The Price Of An Empire

The sun hadn't even risen when Raven awoke from her slumber.

Years of staying two steps ahead tends to assure that you wake up before sunrise, no matter the time zone or time of year. Generally, that is also aided when you become incredibly used to disappearing from a lovers bed before they even begin to stir.

That was certainly true today. From behind tired brown eyes that were not her own, the woman who stirred looked toward the man that laid beside her. He was older, mid-forties, with a pot belly that even be seen beneath the white-struck blue sheets that covered him, and a receding hairline that had long since lost it's luster, but a fragile ego wasn't keen to let go of. Were it not for mask of the early-twenties brunette intern that she had worn throughout the night, the ruffled nose would tell her disgust for the sight of him.

Still, he had his uses. Turning ever-so-carefully to place her feet on the floor, she rolled her shoulders. He was a well-renowned politician from good ol' Tennessee with a bright future ahead of him. The kind of person that could not be trusted to lead... but could be trusted to extend a few favors, should someone have intimate knowledge of him. All the better if he had no possible way of knowing where that someone was at any given time. Really, this was the kind of client Raven Darkholme had built her secret fortune on.

She stood, careful to maintain even weight across the bed so as not to wake him. On tippy-toes she crossed the room toward an open closet nearby. Black-clad leather clothes and untied rope strung inside the doorway from the night before, which she was quick to step over. She really did _love _the kind of man she could manipulate while barely ever touching them. Inside, she took the pencil skirt, blouse and suit jacket that she had worn at 'work' the day before, and carefully put them on. Grabbing her purse, she slipped lipstick out of the bag and put it on. Usually, she didn't need makeup and just kept it for undercover appearances, but in order to leave a little farewell kiss on the collar of his button-up from the night before, she needed the real deal.

Then, with nary a sound, she dismissed herself, found an alley, turned into her usual red-haired street identity, and was gone from his life, leaving him with nothing but the fantasies of his infidelity until their next meeting. Something she would put off for as long as possible.

Within a few hours, Raven arrived back at her local safe house. It wasn't anything like the pent houses she owned that she actually enjoyed her time at, but she sure as hell wasn't going to buy an apartment in Nashville. Locking the multiple locks on the door behind her, she let out a sigh and dropped yet another false identity, finally reverting to her natural yellow-eyed, blue-skinned state. She was quick to find the shower, get out of that outfit and get the stink of the man from the night before off of her.

Within an hour, the woman known as Mystique was on her bed, crossing out the dates on her calendar in her little black book. She had quite a few of these, all generally hidden before she met one of her 'clients'. This particular book housed politicians, businessmen and well-renowned public figures that she could use to either fill her purse or, if needed, leverage power and favors should something occur in more nefarious aspects of her life. These were the necessary contacts, the ones that assured she had something to fall back on should the absolute worst occur.

Placing that black book into a lockbox and placing it inside of a separate hidden compartment in the floor, Mystique pulled out a secondary book and plopped back onto the bed with a sigh. Running her tongue along her thumb, she opened the book and stared, almost dreamily, into it.

Now, this was the most important book she owned. It was old and a bit beaten, but still had more pages than any of the other little black books. It was sometimes hard to tell what Mystique was thinking, or even where specifically she was looking at with those full-yellow pupiless eyes, but if someone was in the room with her they could describe that look as dreamy, even wistful.

This was her book of fellow mutants and other such super types. Within these pages, all sorts of relationships could be inferred. On one page you might find a secret identity that she uses just like the others. On another, an X-Man (or woman) and a list of those close to them that they find attractive but couldn't actually sleep with, and on yet another, one single name might sit with the implications that Raven could be herself in their company.

It was a wide array of different people from across the superhero spectrum, but... one thing Raven could happily admit was that, generally, they all were far better company than the worm she'd had the night before.

Placing the book back on the bed with an almost disappointed sigh, Raven stood and headed toward the nearby closet. Whether her next move was that little book, or another, she had to get moving.

She was a busy woman, after all.