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Still standing off to the side between the two men, Elena stared into Jack's eyes as she re-established mental contact. I don't know how much you want to tip your hand, Jack, but you should know that The Good Doctor and I know each other, professionally as well as personally. I trust him as much as I trust you. She grinned. Even though he's got as many issues as you do. He has access to The Lair, so if you see him down there, don't pull a Raven on him.

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Aw, dammit, that redhead we were hoping to hook up with is walking out!

Oh, hush. There'll be plenty of opportunities later, I'm sure. We're not here to be leches.

Well will you at least let me speak some! We're getting antsy, and you know what happens when we get antsy.

... fine, but keep it short.

"De details of mein life are quite inconsequential," he began, at first seeming to brush off the request. Then, "Very vell, vhere do I begin? Mein vater was a relentlessly self-improving computer engineer from Vest Germany mit Late Onset Tay-Sachs disease und a penchant for entomology. Mein mother vas a Roma herbalist named Cynthia; she died giving birth to me. Mein vater vould vomanize; he vould drink. He vould make outrageous claims like he invented de If/Den programming construct. Sometimes, he vould accuse pies of being lazy. De sort of general malaise dat only de genius possess und de insane lament... Mein childhood vas typical: summers in Cameroon... lute lessons... In de spring, ve'd make aluminium foil helmets... Vhen I was insolent I vas placed in a metal box und left out in storms — pretty standard, really. At de age of 13 an asylum received mein vater. Vhen I vas 16 I vent to college; it took me six years to earn mein doctorate. At age 23 I took up valtzing. I vanted to be a quadruple threat: an actor, dancer....."

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"Oh, you tease me," Jack replied with a warm smile. "I like that. A man should be able to deal with flattery as deftly as he deals with an honest compliment." He watched a vein pulse in Archeville's neck and reminded himself sternly how impolite it was to stare. "How well would you deal, I wonder, with a challenge?" he asked with a cordial laugh.

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"I propose we...dance." Jack looked Archeville right in the eye, a warm smile on his face. "They say it's the most refined form of combat, and who here is more refined than us?" He's not one of those so-and-sos with superhuman dexterity, is he? Because I really don't want to look like a sucker here. His grin grew almost dangerous. "Elena here can judge us."

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Dance? HA!

That's... that's not really what I expected. At all.

Bah! We shall serve him as he's never been served before!

We... you... what?

"Dance, Herr Faretti? Dat is an interesting challenge," he said said as he moved towards the center of the room. His voice rose a bit as he spoke, and others began to move aside to give them room. "A dance contest, Herr Faretti, between you und I? Oh, I don't know -- I'm not sure anyvon here vould be interested in seeing me dance...."

The small group of musicians stopped in mid-song as a few of the attendees clapped or cheered. They were soon joined by more and more, until a sizable portion were calling for a dance-off. Elena could easily pick up that most were thinking something along the lines of This will either be Really Awesome or Really Funny. Or both.

"Vell, it seems I must bow to de reqvests of de crowd. Ve vil need judges, of course. Let's see..." Archeville looked over the crowd, and gave an ever-so-slight wink to Elena. "You, und... you, und.... you." The first person he chose was a heavyset black man in a "casual formal" outfit, the second was Elena, and the third was a very stuffy-looking Englishman who'd seemed largely bored all evening. "Vould you mind judging for us?"

"Of course, ve vill be needing partners," he said with a smirk. He looked around again, and saw the redhead he'd been chatting with earlier, "Ah, madame: vould you do me de honor?"

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Elena rolled her eyes. "I keep hoping they'll outlaw cock-fights someday. Still, this should be fun." She took a step back from the two "contestants" and rested her hands on her hips. "Every judges panel has to have a token twit from either high society or the entertainment industry. Maybe I'll be like the starlets who always seem to be the second judge on Iron Chef." The tone of her voice couldn't have been more sarcastic. "I can just get away with saying your dancing 'reminds me of my childhood' *tee-hee*."

Jack and Viktor both heard Elena's whispers echo in their minds. For all either man knew, the message was for him and him alone. I suppose when you can't just read their mind, you have to get creative when sizing up a new player. Fair enough.

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It was an alarmingly simple matter for Jack to curl a lovely young woman around his arm, a smile and a few whispered words enough to get the daughter of one of Freedom City's wealthiest investors on his arm. Debbie's chocolate skin made a pleasingly aesthetic match with his pale hand on her bare arm. "I believe it's up to the challenged party to choose the weapons of our contest?" Jack inquired of Archeville, a smile on his face. "Name the music, sir." Jack replied to Elena with a simple tune. "When you're in trouble, go into your dance..."

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Muah hah hah! Exactly what we thought he'd do!

You... expected him to be honorable?

I expected him to be a fool!

Hey, watch it, he's Elena's friend. We don't want her gett-

Bah!

"Ah, how kind of you, Herr Faretti," he replied, smiling a very mischievous smile. He turned to the small mini-orchestra that had been rented for the evening, and murmured to himself a bit as he looked them over. "Yes, yes, dis should do qvite vell."

He tuned back to Faretti, put his hands in his lab coat pockets, and rocked on his heels for a moment, drawing the moment out. Eventually Archeville removed his hands from his pockets, first his right (which he offered to his chosen partner) and then his left, with which he made a sweeping gesture.

"A Viennese valtz." He turned his head towards the band, "something by Strauss, if you can, please."

The musicians conversed among themselves for a moment, then began to play; Archeville immediately began to dance, twirling his partner about. To some small surprise, Jack actually recognized the tune: it was the overture to Die Fladermaus. The opera, largely a vaudevillian farce, was liked by many of the more cultured vampires because the title translated to "The Bat," and because it featured lots of seduction and late-night revelry.

Inside his left lab coat pocket, Archeville's Electromagnetic Screwdriver silently flashed.

What did you do?

Nothing... unfair.

You set the E.S. to send out a subsonic subliminal pulse! How is that 'nothing unfair'?

Because it's us using our one real trump, our scientific & technical know-how.

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Why, that... Jack smiled, though, beaming down at his partner as they swept their way onto the floor together. Well, if Archeville was willing to make the contest...interesting, Jack was willing to play his game. After all, this was all about taking each other's measure. "Ah, Die Fledermaus!" His voice carried as the two of them moved onto the dance floor together, his low, melodious tones pleasantly interacting with the music in a perfect, synchronized rhythm. "A tale of wooing and lovers, of...forbidden passions and exquisite desires."

When the crowd, or at least the ladies in the crowd, were eating out of his hand, Jack actually began dancing, something he admittedly had little training in. With an adoring, wide-eyed Debbie in his arms, Jack moved around the dance floor with the grace and energy of a lion, sweeping and dipping, twirling and spinning, and ending the dance with a just-slightly-risque kiss right on the lips of his lovely amour.

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Ha! Amateur!

Judging by his appearance, I doubt he's had our breadth of experience.

Ah, but judging by our appearance, we shouldn't, either. Or do you forget just how young we look?

"Ah, but dere is so much more to it dan dat, Herr Faretti," Archeville countered. "It is the lilt of de Viennese valtz dat gives Die Fledermaus its soul! De valtzes symbolize not only seduction und deception, but also of melancholy sentiment, as vell as sparkling exuberance! Und all dese are captured perfectly in de overture!"

Hrm, a fair point. Which means we shouldn't do anything to overly upset him. We don't know what he's capable of.

Isn't that the point of this contest, though? Plus, he's a friend of Elena's, right? Surely any friend of hers wouldn't be the sort to hold any sort of grudge for being shown up.

Well, given that we're her friend, your logic would seem flawed.

Archeville was not as dexterous as his rival, but still made for an impressively agile showing. "Mein compliments on your footvork, Herr Faretti. You appear to be a natural."

Watch our feet, you clumsy fool!

You watch where our hands are going.

The deficit in agility was greatly overshadowed, though, by Archeville's near-superhumanly magnetic personality, and the fact that he did know how to waltz. (The subsonic subliminal pulses that caused everyone to pay a bit more attention than usual to Archeville helped, too.) His dance ended with a kiss on his partner's hand and a respectful bow, to his partner and then to the band.

The crowd exploded with applause.

Yes! YES!

Well, at least you should sleep well tonight.

Depends on how things go with our redheaded partner.

Oh, for the love of...

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The crowd was applauding them both...but it was applauding the German scientist even more. Jack was a perfect gentleman, striding up to him and throwing his arms around Archeville's shoulders. "Three cheers for the finest dancer in the city!" This close, as the crowd cheered them both, he murmured with a wry smile, "I suppose a man must use all his advantages. Mechanical, or otherwise."

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Bah! He dares insinuate that we needed mechanical aid to defeat him?

You're the one who had us use 'mechanical aid'!

... Silence!

"I am sure I haff no idea vhat you are talking about, Herr Faretti." he murmured back, followed by a knowing wink. He quickly resumed his normal voice, "oh, I don't know about de finest, und I am sure you could easily best me vere you to choose de style of dance! Or any style, had you de proper training."

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"I suppose I've benefited from talented partners." Jack beamed at Debbie, leaning close to murmur sweet nothings in her ear about her performance. She had his number by the time she went back to her table, and Jack had her marked. With a little luck, he'd feed well tonight. "And talented opponents as well." He shook Archeville's hand firmly. "Well, I think we have each other's measure. How exactly do you know Elena, anyway?"

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Elena grinned and shook her head. "Jack, you speak about Die Fledermaus which such great authority, for a guy who's exposure to it is limited to having watched Raven Begins far too many times."

"And you." She turned to Viktor and lightly punched him in the arm. "The terms of the competition not being clearly stated is no excuse for cheating. Sun-Tzu would have approved. Confucius would not."

She let her arms hang free for a moment, then walked up between the two men and casually rested one arm over each of their shoulders. She turned back and forth between them. "I guess that makes you the Odysseus to Jack's Achilles. One crafty, the other full of bluster, but neither one motivated by anything as pure as the defense of one's homeland. Rather, one was driven by greed and conquest, and the other, bloodlust, and his own insatiable ego." She patted them sarcastically on their respective backs and chuckled. Yes, you two make quite a pair."

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Jack had only the vaguest concept of who those people were, but, hey, Achilles was a tough guy! That had to count for something. He winced, just a little, as Elena spoke, but it was indeed hard to argue with the truth. Come to think of it, maybe the Achilles thing wasn't as good as he'd assumed. He'd have to go home and look that up. "I guess that makes me Brad Pitt," he said with a slightly strained smile. "I could do far worse. Would that make you our..." Think! Think! Think! "...Helen?"

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"I guess that makes me Brad Pitt," he said with a slightly strained smile. "I could do far worse. Would that make you our..." Think! Think! Think! "...Helen?"

Elena smirked as she watched Jack struggle. She laughed and raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. "Trying to butter me up, Mr. Faretti? Think flattery will get you back into my good graces? Nice try. But no, this face couldn't launch a thousand ships." She grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a waiter as he passed, downed it one gulp, and set it back down before he walked away. She smiled. "Maybe ten. If the crew on five of them were drunk. No, Helen looked more like Moira. I, on the other hand, feel more like Cassandra as often as not." She patted Jack twice on his bicep. "Don't strain your brain on that one. She wasn't in the movie."

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... what'd she say?

She says she saw what you did there.

Dammit!

See, I knew it was a bad idea.

Well, no one else saw it. Probably. And, hey, if she's Cassandra, then no one would believe her if she did tell.

And if Jack tells?

... then we see how invulnerable Achilles really is.

"Odysseus, eh?," he replied, "Vell, I am more dan a bit cunning. But if you're Brad Pitt," he turned to Jack, "dat vould make me Sean Bean, ja? He's a fine actor, I can live mit dat. Although... ja, ja, dat is very fitting." The lights in Archeville's eyes dimmed a bit, but only briefly. "I could go for a drink. Ginger ale, preferably."

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"Ah, the hard stuff." For a moment or two, Jack was the small-town kid trying to socialize with the kids in the big-city clubs. He hadn't liked it then, either. "Yes, well, I think we've all had a chance to show off our respective talents tonight." He needed these people, irritated or not, and he wasn't going to go out of his way to alienate them. The thought of betraying Archeville's secret never crossed his mind. Predators did that sort of thing to one another all the time. He shot a quick smile over at Debbie, one that didn't quite reach his eyes despite its perfection.

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