How to join Ragnarök? Nobody really knew who the members were much less there names. There graffiti marks did pop up from time to time on building and landmarks. And just as they were cleaned away more popped up. The mark was no secret to the public and in truth Rico had been contributing lately in defacing property in the late of night.

As much as he would have loved there to be a recruiting booth on a street corner that was just not going to happen. He had to put effort in getting noticed or bumping into members. Rico moved through a ally wearing black full body overalls covered in bloody human handprints he painted on. Depending on who looked at him they could almost say it was haunting. Like looking at the painted hands of ancient man on cave walls.

The black balaclava mask he wore to hide his face and identity probably did not help to improve his appearance. Rico stopped near the ally exit onto a street and made sure nobody was nearby. Feeling safe to work he opened up his back pack to pull out a spray can to paint the Ragnarök graffiti mark that was all to commonly seen in the city.

Having finished he put the can back into his backpack. Rico felt like a punk kid during there rebellious years. Never mind the fact he was a grown man. Still he hoped.

As she meandered down the alleyways, she noticed a distinct lack of street lighting and usual New York activity. No big deal, she could take care of herself. By now she had a solid grip on her newly manifested psychic powers. Any jerk stupid enough to mug her would be convinced to commit suicide within 5 minutes of asking for her wallet and phone. She ducked into a doorway and searched in the dark for her cigarettes. Between the muffled sounds of things rattling in her purse She heard the rattle of something on metal can followed by the unmistakable hissing of spray paint.

I dare you to try and mug me. She thought to herself and lit her cigarette.

She intentionally walked in the direction of the spray paint, letting her stilettos fall heavy on the concrete. Until she stopped a few feet away from the masked man spraying a symbol on the brick wall.

"Is that your band or something?" She asked sarcastically and blew a cloud of smoke into the wind.

The thing about alleys is that they are often not as secure as one might have hoped. Sure, it's basically a hall between two buildings, off the street and away from prying eyes forward and back. You have to be at the alley's mouth or its back just to see down it, to see the person within. Of course, that's when you're thinking in two dimensions, forward and back. In reality, the world is 3D. There are rooftops, fire escapes, windows above street level. Many people live above the shops they run. In short, New York alleys aren't always the most secure place for secretive and clandestine meetings. You gotta look left, right, forward, backwards, and of course, up. Neither person in the alley was looking up. The man in the black balaclava, with the barreled chest and beer belly, wasn't looking up. Neither was the woman with the subdermal horns and tattoos. So when the man with green skin and big red oval "alien-looking" eyes landed on one knee behind them, from a jump a few stories above off a fire escape, neither person was likely to be anything but surprised.

Why was he there? What was he doing, that he would be in that specific place in space and time? Good question. Let's for the moment entirely fail to address it. Instead, let's address what he said.

Elliott jerked his eyes to the graffiti on the wall. Then to the man painting it. Finally, to the woman with the unique appearance, who had asked the man a question. The guy was wearing overalls covered in bloody handprints, on further examination. Obvious as heck. "You painted it a little sloppy." He pointed to a curve in the symbol that was not quite perfection. "I know. The circle with the 'arrows' sticking in and out of it is a little complex. It's no nordic fire rune or anything, but your symbol looks more like the symbol for female. ♀ . Needs some work."

He glanced at the woman again. "So, no. Not a band. And he's certainly not being 'low-key'." Rhymes with 'Loki', 'leader' of the faction the symbol he had tried to paint was named. If anyone had dug enough to know that little detail and get his joke.

Yes, he totally had been in the right place at the right time to meet someone painting a symbol connected to a faction he was a part of. Yes, he sort of had just appeared for above and off-camera like some sort of God Mode hacking was involved, to get the jump on two intelligent people. Why was he there? What was his excuse? Mugging.

That's a joke. He never mugged. He only pickpocketed. And not so much, anymore. He really didn't have an excuse, except for the bulge of a can of spray paint discretely hiding in the pocket of his red fleece jacket. It's possible he had planned to paint that very same wall.

When the alien-esque man landed, Rikke jumped a little in surprise. This alley was becoming quite the hotspot for mutants it seemed. Assuming the masked bandit was a mutant.

In the silence that before the green man, or woman's words Rikke listened in for any surface thoughts that would indicate if the frog person intended harm.

He spoke to the masked man, she continued listening in to his open surface thoughts. He didn't seemed to like the fledgling graffiti artist much.

Then he turned to her almost as if he knew that she was listening to his thoughts. In addition to his striking appearance, she was startled and stepped backwards. He found the joke funny, but she was intrigued. "Loki" "Ragnarok" it was unfamiliar to her, as was the symbol.

"You're lying," She smiled, "you guys are in some lame mutant emo band." She pointed a finger at the green guy. "I bet you play bass, Froggy."

He said, "So, no. Not a band. And he's certainly not being 'low-key'." The thoughts in his head were peculiar, he had made a joke of sorts that she didn't immediately understand.

"Is that your band or something?"

Rico turned towards the voice and found it was a mutant like him. Though far more obvious with the bumps on her head and fang like teeth. He would have been more concerned of being caught in the act had the woman not been smoking. And as it often was with smokers he found the need to have a cancer stick as well.

"You could say that." Rico said dryly and rooted out a benson from his pack and lit it with a bic lighter. It was not exactly a common brand like cowboy killers. But it was easy enough to find in little Kingston. Taking a deep breath the cherry flared in the dark of the ally and illuminated his masked face a bit more. Rico was about to ask the woman what her story was until another arrived.

"Wow." Rico said and clapped his gloved hands. "Well you certainly know how to make  entrance guy." He appeared calm enough but the truth was Rico was already running plans through his head of how to deal with this possible threat. Mainly the idea of tossing his bag at the green skinned newcomer and doing a running drop kick.

Not pretty. But that method had saved his ass in the past. But then again the stranger had jumped off a damn roof. The thought it would only piss him off also came to mind. Any idea of fighting disappeared though as the newcomer spoke.

"I know. The circle with the 'arrows' sticking in and out of it is a little complex. It's no nordic fire rune or anything, but your symbol looks more like the symbol for female. ♀ . Needs some work."

Rico looked to his work on the wall and shrugged. "Meh, I aint no artist. Just doing my part. Will make sure not to do that in the future." With that Rico flicked the cigarette butt at the wall, the still burning cherry on it exploding into embers at the impact. Rico was content to cross his arms across his chest and lean a shoulder against the wall all the while listening and observing. The low-key joke went right over his head.

"you guys are in some lame mutant emo band."

Well this woman had a sense of humor. That was always good points in his book. Rico looked at the newcomer and then back at the woman. "Well it looks like she got us. And for the record its a blue grass band. He plays the banjo."

Elliott sighed, and slapped his forehead with the palm of his three-fingered hand. "Why does everyone call me froggy. I'm literally a freaking green alien with antennae. Why does anyone say 'frog' at all?"

Sure, I can jump like a frog and I'm green. He thought. But that's really it. He eyed the woman again. Who was she to call him froggy, anyways? She seemed a little strange, herself.

He turned his attention back to the guy in the mask as the man spoke. And blinked. Why had the man said 'yes' to the band thing, when clearly that wasn't the direction he had been going? A cover. Yes. A cover.

"You got me. Want I should play froggy went a-courting?" He joked. This guy painting the symbol was not familiar to him. If he was painting it, he was likely connected to It in some way. Or maybe he was just latching on to a symbol he assumed meant anarchy. He'd have to corner him alone and talk about it. "It's actually time for band practice. You ready to go?" He jerked his head towards the mouth of the alley, and their exit. They could just walk off and leave this woman in their dust.

This person knew DETAILS about the symbol. Rico only knew enough about it that the public knew. Enough for the public to know that they either hated the group. Or supported it. Either way Rico figured it was a method of recruiting. It made sense in a way. Get caught by members painting it and you could be considered a interested person in joining. And he was sick and tired of painting them on buildings like a low level lackey worthy of nothing else then spreading the message. He wanted to do more.

"It's actually time for band practice. You ready to go?"

Rico uncrossed his arms and started to walk away without a word. He was just glad someone finally noticed him. This woman was a unknown variable. But he had taken plans to that as he evidently demonstrated. There always existed unknown variables in the shadow world. All you could do was plan for it and execute a plan as necessary. Preferably one that did not draw to much attention. The mask and overalls he wore was also part of that plan. Easy to ditch and blend in with a crowd with the T-shirt and jeans he wore under it.

She was free to follow as free will was not something to control. But Rico, or rather doubted she was interested in the things he had planned. But he could be wrong. Rico stopped at the mouth of the alley and finally spoke.

"You know how long I have been painting this nonsense to get y'alls attention? Was beginning to wonder about this recruiting method of yours and planned something big tonight. Nice you came along because I was starting to wonder if Ragnarök was WORTH my time. Sick and tired of this juvenile graffiti crap." At this point Rico would come off as arrogant or confident. Either way such things could be considered useful to a organization.

"I scoped out a low key META storage facility and have some yardie friends who can can deliver some toys for us to make it go up in very public display. Interested in helping me?" At this point Rico pulled a disposable cell out his pack. "More fun with others but either way I am blowing the place. I hate canners."

Blue-grass indeed, maybe if the green one was blue, that would be funny. The alien guy had agility and plus who knew what else, he was a risk. The masked one was a big question mark. She watched the two roams the corner out of the alleyway, worst case she'd control the green one to deal with Mr. Anonymous.

She followed the two down the street. Like hell they were going to walk away from her like that. Though, she had no idea what they were up to. The symbol on the wall was a mystery to her, but she guessed it would lead her into something useful.

The two talked in hush tones but the masked one's surface thoughts were loud as ever. The masked one was planning on blowing something up. She couldn't get much on the alien guy, psychic defenses or just unique biology. Either way, she wanted to blow something up, the green one was either in or out. It made no difference to her.

She lit another cigarette and followed at a few paces behind while digging in the masked bandit's head for details on what he intended to blow up. It was murky, but everything pointed at a META storage facility. Perfect. She was dying to get some revenge after the incident she had at the construction site in Brooklyn.

So, he wasn't a member. He was just a pretender trying to get attention. Strange. He'd been up-front with it, after a fashion, and he clearly had not wanted to talk about it in front of the outsider, but still... it put Elliott on cautious footing. Criminals lie. And who is to say who can and cannot be trusted? He didn't want to make any mistakes and get Ragnarok involved in anything it couldn't handle. Elliott definitely didn't want to compromise anyone. Not that he knew many people affiliated with Ragnarok. He knew Valkyrie, and he knew about Jaager, head of his big business. He knew the basic staff at that place of business, and he knew the sisters, who helped him from time to time. Outside of them, really, there was nobody he knew. He didn't think over all of this when the man spoke to him. This was just background information hidden behind the very obvious umbrella thought of 'I don't trust this man.' Got to be careful. Always careful.

The arrogance of bringing the entire spiel up at the head of an alley, not TOO far away from someone he did not know or trust struck Elliott as not careful. The man had wanted to be recruited? Recruitment. Right. Have not done much of that. On the surface, he kept a cool unreadable look on his face. The last thing he wanted to do was lose face in front of an unknown variable. He also didn't want to get himself killed.

Elliott glanced behind them. He felt like he was being followed. Being paranoid always helps. Didn't see anyone,, right off the bat. Clearly, if someone was following them, they'd waited in hiding for a moment before starting up behind them, only a few paces behind... and they would have kept to the shadows, and kept themselves quiet and avoided being seen... because otherwise, such a stalking would have been detected by the career criminal quicker than he could attempt to snap. It's hard to snap with two fingers and a thumb. Actually, you really only need a finger and a thumb. He just had trouble snapping. It wasn't as if he had reason to.

He kept silent a few moments as they walked. The guy had suggested blowing up a robot-storage facility. The man flat out said he was going to destroy it, whether Elliott helped him or not. He was going to get himself killed.

Elliott smiled a jagged smile at him. "Have you dealt with 'Canners' before?" He asked coolly, and continued on without stopping. "I have. My alien physiology doesn't quite give me the stopping power to destroy them, flat-out. We'll need to stop somewhere to get the type of toys we need to handle resistance, if we do this. I know someone who can help us, if I just give them a call. But let's see how your contacts do." He glanced at the street behind them, at the sidewalk again.

"Have you dealt with 'Canners' before?"

The toothy confident smile threw Rico off right then and there. "Kinda." Rico blurted out his confidence now shaken. "Yes." He said more confidently now. "Once." After that he paused in thought trying to remember the fragments of his memory last time he went feral. "I remember fighting one. Large. I remember the feeling and the sound of its head giving out as it caved in..... in my mouth." At that Rico crossed his arms. "You ask to many damn questions."

He was getting defensive now and wondered if this guy was even with the group he was trying to join. Cops asked a lot of questions and Rico was getting suspicious.

"We'll need to stop somewhere to get the type of toys we need to handle resistance."

"Resistance?" Rico asked with a restrained laugh. "The place is a storage facility run by a couple of guards made of flesh and blood. Damn husks have not been programmed yet. They wont put up any kind of fight." At least Rico hoped not. His intelligence could always be wrong. But the opportunity was to good to just pass up.

"But let's see how your contacts do."

Rico was insulted by that comment. The black market held a lot of state of the art tech. Including a nice bundle of RDX as his contacts described it. Research development explosive. Very powerful and unknown to Rico, Unstable at times. "Whatever you prick peddling dog faced catepilar." Rico muttered and dialed on the phone. "Wa Gwon. Ya man. Buck up same place. Bless." With that Rico hung up the disposable phone. "Now we wait." He said blankly and leaned against the wall all the while keeping a close eye on the green guy.

The green guy was getting cautious, she didn't need her powers to tell her that. She wasn't completely sure about his angle, but the masked guy seemed to trust him, or at least he wanted to. She guessed that Green-Man had something that the mask wanted, probably a Ragnarok or whatever that was.

She'd managed to pick up very few details about Ragnarok in her time in the city. All she knew was that it carried a lot of respect and power, whatever she was. Some talked about with awe and excitement like was a religion or god, so she once thought it might be a drug of some kind. But so many talked about it in hush tones that she eventually concluded it might be a person. She'd seen the symbol all over the city but never really understood what it was supposed to mean. What good was a symbol if nobody knew what it meant?

She listened in, Greeney seemed hesitant to take on the 'canners' but she sensed a determination in the masked guy; that was good, she could use that. The more they talked, she was getting annoyed with froggy, he was too unknown and he seemed like he was going to get in the way of blowing things up.

She listened in, "The place is a storage facility run by a couple of guards made of flesh and blood. Damn husks have not been programmed yet. They wont put up any kind of fight."

Beautiful. Unprogrammed METAs, she imagined everything she could do with a META of her own, assuming she could find a way to program it. But then, she would probably do what she always did: find someone who had what she wanted, programming skills in this case, and force him telepathically to do as she wanted and then force him to commit suicide. The trouble was moving an unprogrammed META, she had no immediate solutions for that, but something woulds come up, eventually.

The two men were going to wait for some kind of contacts, she hated waiting around for anything. She leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette and imagined everything she could do with a small army of robots.

Kinda. Yes. Once. That was about as good an answer as he'd expected. Caving in in is mouth. 'What kind of power does this man have?' Elliott wondered.

Of course he was asking questions. How else would he get to know the situation? The guy was on his heels now, defensive. It figured. Sometimes us criminal folks get paranoid when people start asking questions, but then we start asking questions and oh, look, shoes on the other foot. At least for people who can wear normal shoes... He was lucky. His feet weren't so different with two toes than peoples with five. Shoes fit him just fine.

He hadn't been thrown off his game like this man had. Hopefully, the man's contacts would do the trick and hook them up with some good hardware to handle the robots. The man seemed to think it would be a factory with no robot guards, ran by a skeleton crew. With how certain the guy was about that, and how defensive he'd gotten, Elliott had to wonder if that dog faced caterpillar comment was for him.

Now they'd play the waiting game.

"It's possible," he ventured, as Elliott crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. The same wall that someone was smoking while leaning against, some ways down the block. "That there are METAs guarding the META facility, and they only want you to think it's two men. That kind of technology wouldn't be guarded by any old Dick and Tom." It was only a possibility. He was just throwing that out there. "How sure are you about this intel? Also, do you have a nickname you want me to call you? Or do I just call you Bandit? Tag? Bob Ross?" That last one was a commentary on his painting skills. A sarcastic one. He said it with a joking smirk, though. He wanted to break down some of this paranoia the guy was showing him. If he really wanted in on some covert chaos operation, he'd have to extend some trust... because they certainly weren't extending it to him." There are some who call me... Tim." Elliott deadpanned a line from Monty Python. Would jokes help ease the tension while they waited?

Also, he could still definitely smell cigarette smoke coming from somewhere. Just because he didn't have a long nose like some people, it didn't mean he had no sense of smell. Was someone smoking next to them? Were they being followed? Or did the guy call the cops, himself, using code? Elliott added that to his 'am I being followed today' line of thought. He was usually always paranoid, so even if he wasn't, it wasn't unusual to think such a thing!

Rikke watched the two men, or at least she presumed the green one was a man, mutants with visible mutations were sometimes tough to gender. The graffiti 'artist' made a call and seemed to have some reservations about his contacts, but they were so deeply buried in his mind that Rikke felt sure that his contacts would work out. All low level criminals were concerned that their contacts would eventually fail. In her experience, most street level guys wished they were big shots and that nobody dare cross or fail them, but in reality the street level guys were perpetually hanging by a thread, one bad day away from losing their entire attempted criminal enterprise.

She wanted those METAs though. She imagined having a few reprogrammed robots at her disposal, not only would it solve her developing security problem, but it would gain her easier access to the police. Previously, she had to pilfer the mind of a cop to get the information she needed, but with a META, she could send it in and retrieve the information without anyone noticing. Or at least she could if these two jerks didn't blow them up first.

She approached the two and spoke, "Ok, so you're not a crappy emo band. I want in on this whole META operation. I've got a bone to pick with those oversized Roombas."

She hated putting herself out like that, but it would be worth it to orchestrate their plans around her own ideas and reduce the risk of them getting in her way

"That there are METAs guarding the META facility, and they only want you to think it's two men. That kind of technology wouldn't be guarded by any old Dick and Tom."

Rico could not deny the logic and said as much. "I thought so as well. But these aint your average joes. They got the smell of PMC all over them. Private military contractors, Black Water types, mercenary's. Had a few run ins with there outfit already." He paused in thought and fragmented memories from his time in feral dragon form came back. Memories of a warehouse at the docks and a PMC ambush. It seemed more a nightmare then a memory and Rico forced it from his mind.

"How sure are you about this intel? Also, do you have a nickname you want me to call you? Or do I just call you Bandit? Tag? Bob Ross?"

"Sure enough to try it. There are risks as with everything." The last bit of the green guys comment made him chuckle a little. "Smart ass, you can call me Razakel." Rico did not remember were he had heard that name before. But he always found it fitting. There was something mysterious and foreboding about it. More so then the name Malakai that he used from time to time.

." There are some who call me... Tim."

"Tim?" Rico asked. It was definitely not what he was expecting. "So I take it this is the part where I spit out a witty comment." Rico paused and added. "I will get back to you later on that." Rico at least made the attempt to be friendly with this Tim guy. Maybe he might end up saving Rico's ass if things went tits up.

The phone rang again and he listened and cursed just as the woman came and spoke. "Fine, just drop it by the secondary place." Turning off the phone again he looked to Tim. "They had to drop off the gear adjacent to the warehouse. They almost rolled up on one of those random police checkpoints. I think it best we split up and meet there."

Having ignored the woman for that exchange he finally nodded his head in her direction. "What you think Tim? Another body could always help. Especially if the shooting starts. It gives them another person to aim at besides us."

The guy granted him his point. Good. He wasn't the kind of person with an ego so big it prevented them from acknowledging points of common sense. Elliott appreciated that. Still, he kept on about private military contractors. If this place was guarded by mercenary forces, they'd have to be extra careful. The guy seemed to be considering it all, all thoughtful-like. The green man watched him for his reactions. He was still working on getting a read on the man.

Razakel, he called himself. A fake name, if ever Elliott had heard one. He was very familiar with fake names. Razakel (again, a fake name, hah) was certain enough of his information to risk their lives over it. If he was certain enough to stick out his own neck, Elliott figured he'd give the man a little respect. And a fake name, so if it went south, he wouldn't be connected to the man. Just in case.

Raz took that 'Tim' name with incredulity. Maybe he was familiar with Monty Python, the origin of the line. Maybe he wasn't. But he wanted to drop a witty rejoinder, either way. Elliott gave him a slight nod, and a crooked smile. "All good things in time." He said.

While Raz turned to focus on his phone call, Elliott turned his body to face the woman who had approached them. A brow arched. He felt like this situation was the type that would get complicated before it got simple, and she simply confirmed it. He joined in in not replying to her, at least until Raz did, then eyed her suspiciously, smirk never leaving his face. It was an odd look for a green man with red eyes and a crooked zipper-like smile. His eyes were narrowed, but he smiled like he didn't have a care.

"I thought I was being followed." Elliott commented wryly. "Sure. We can give you a shot. Are you going to tell us what your mutation does, or do we simply have to guess and hope, if things get jagged?"

He didn't like being sneaked up on. He didn't like that one bit. It was hard to trust either party here, but he had been working on getting outside his comfort zone and trusting more. It is hard to gain members in a chaos faction if one treats it like a job interview every time. Chaos requires a little give and take. Also, leaps of faith.

"I jump good." He added the last part as an after-thought. Again, leaps of faith were required. He could share that part of his power.