The park was deserted, but that was to be expected this late at night. It was exactly the reason Max had waited till after sundown to come out here. He stood among some of the trees in the park perched on a massive rock that stood there. He was wearing sweatpants and his hoodie which he had unzipped to allow the cool night air to hit his bare chest.

Tai Chi was all about the manipulation of energy within oneself to obtain balance and then using that balance to redirect and nutrilize external forces. As Max stood there taking long, deep breaths he focused on his core. Tai Chi was supposed to be incredibly helpful with mental focus and and Max had been studying it for a while. He thought the form of martial art would compliment his dancing skills well.

He slowly increased the gravity on himself and began moving through his various forms. Slow call circles followed by twists and turns, defensive stances and small open palm thrusts. The added gravity would strain his muscles and make them work harder, which meant he would build muscle faster as long as he didn't overdo it and hurt himself.

He gave into the repetition, moving over and over again through his forms until his mind drifted into the motions and he stopped thinking. He used the forms as meditation, freeing his mind to reach a state of calm while his body turned the motions into muscle memory. In a fight it would make his reactions faster, when he danced it would allow him to flow smoother.

He completed his forms and returned to his starting stance, returning gravity to normal as he did. He bowed to an imaginary master and reached down to take a drunk of his water bottle

Everybody was Kung fu fighting. Their kicks were fast as lightning. In fact. It was a little bit frightening being chased by hatchet men from the Triad through a deserted park at night. You set up one little car bomb, and they catch you, and suddenly you're public enemy number one.

He vaulted over a knee high brick wall, parkour style, then ran some more. Three Chinese men in black suits were chasing him with hatchets, but he was outpacing them. Having a body built for speed made him glad some times that he'd come from beyond the stars. Really, he needed to turn around and beat them down... but he didn't feel like turning to show them his face head on was a bright idea. He'd been in the shadows in a hood before, so all they'd noticed was his form. If he showed them who he was, well, he was fairly easy to pick out in a lineup and things would be bad.

As he vaulted another wall around the footpath and skirted around a bush, he caught sight of someone not too far ahead. It looked like... well, it looked like they were bowing. "Hey," he shouted. He needed to get the guys attention. "Hey. Run!" A hatchet sailed past him on his right, just missing him. It embedded itself in a tree. Elliott turned and kicked the hatchet, hard. The handle snapped off. Then he ran some more. Unfortunately, towards the person in the dark.

The quiet night around him was calming. He could hear the rustle of the leaves above him in the trees. He focused on his body, on the flow of energy through them. He was calm, in a state of mental peace. Maybe there was something to this martial arts stuff.

-"Hey"

Someone was shouting. His bubble of focus popped and Max opened his eyes and looked for the source of the outburst. He saw a hooded figure running his way.

-"Hey. Run"

The man was shouting. Behind him off in the distance Max saw three men in suits chasing the man. "What is up with this city?" Max thought as he saw the pursuit. He saw one of the suites figures extend his arm. There was a silvery flash of moonlight in the night air and Max saw a hatchet smack into a tree beside the hooded man.

"Oh shi-" Max began.

The running man kicked the hatchet and snapped the handle. Max took a reactionary step away from the group and fell off the side of the rock. He nullified gravity around himself and broke his fall as he lost sight of the men behind the stone.

"That man needs help." Max thought.

"Not my problem." A voice in his head responded.

"But those guys will kill him." He thought back furiously.

"And? Once again not my problem." The voice repeated.

Max took a deep breath. When you had a chance to do good, to help someone, and you didn't do it you were just as responsible as the person causing the problem.

"Alright. Go be a hero....idiot." His inner jerk replied.

Max zipped up his hoodie and popped the hood up. The man being chased had the right idea. Last thing Max wanted was to have hatchet wielding lunatics know what he looked like. Max ran out from behind the rock.

"This way." He shouted.

He tore across the path and into the trees. He could weave through the woods here and make his way way to the 7th Street subway entrance. The crowd might help the man lose his pursuers.

The thug who lost his hatchet snatched the handle up as he passed the tree. His second hatchet hung at his waist, thumping against his leg in its sheathe as he ran.

Elliott saw the guy tighten his hood in the distance, and followed suit, tightening his hood as he ran.

Rampant expletives foamed off his lips with every step. Really good ones. Evocative. Someone somewhere was taking notes. But those words did nothing to hinder the hatchetmen.

He followed. What else was he gonna do?

As he changed directions, shifting to the right, the hatchet man who had recovered his handle threw the damned thing. Elliott cursed, throwing himself hard to the left to roll out of the way. As he landed, his eyes snapped to where the handle had landed, jutting out of the dirt. He narrowed his eyes, made a decision, and whipped his hand towards the handle. He was about 8 feet away. Close enough that the tongue that slid out of the palm of his right hand could reach the handle, wrap around it, and throw it hard in the direction of the man who had thrown it. He didn't look to see if it hit, he was already scrambling back to his feet to chase after the mystery man. His tongue retracted as he went, sheathing itself neatly in the arm. He briefly shuddered at the thought of tongue splinters. Yuck.

Some distance behind Elliott, the triad member who had thrown the handle lay on his back in the dark. His eyes were glassy. The handle stuck out of his chest like a stake, from his the place his heart would be. The devils luck. That's what that was. The two Triad chased on.

Max looked back to see the man following him but he didn't slow down. He made his way through the trees, his focus behind him. The man rolled out of the way as a hatchet handle flew at him and Max found that the guy was light on his feet. He saw a quick motion and the handle was flying back, despite the hooded man being too far to reach it.

"A mutant?" Max thought as he turned to look where he was going.

He didn't see the handle kill the man, which was probably a good thing. Max had never killed anyone and the sight would have majorly freaked him out. Instead his focus was on brick wall ahead of him.

The wall marked the edge of the park and once over it the subway entrance would be right on the other side. Max used his ability, lowering gravity, and vaulted upward. He soared eight feet up and landed on the ledge of the wall. He dropped to his stomach and offered his hand down for the hooded man being chased. He could see the two figures in pursuit barreling after him.

It was a wonder the Triad men hadn't pulled guns when one of their number had fallen. Neither Elliott, nor the other guy, had seen the man fall, but the Triad men had. They were traditionalists, though. Revenge for their fallen comrade was a dish best served with chopped liver. And fingers. And toes. Cutting people up, is what was being got at, here. Again, they were Hatchetmen. Not Glock men or Tommy guns. A little bit of reliability is a valuable thing.

They were still about ten or eleven strides behind him. Elliott was a great runner. It was kind of his thing. But running in the dark, in a park at night, it's easy to lose ground. And they'd seen where he'd stumbled, and avoided the spots to catch up on him. Another of Elliott's special skills was jumping. But--- he wasn't using that now.

When the man ahead of him reached the wall, he sprang upwards, revealing his ability. Either jumping, or something to do with gravity or flying, but it stood out. If Elliott started using his skills, the ones that he was famous for, they might be able to pin something on him. If possible tongue saliva DNA evidence on the handle weren't enough. Was he in a spit database? He had no clue! But back on the topic of to jump or not jump, Elliott chose 'not'. Not because he wanted to avoid people connecting him to his crime: moreso because he wanted to do this the old fashioned route.

Elliott came at the wall running. When he reached it, he hit it, and started climbing the walls face, parkour-style. He caught the man's hand and used it to get him the rest of the way up, landing on top of the wall.

"Man. Whoever you are. You rock." Elliott said breathlessly.

Below, the hatchetmen shouted incoherently in Chinese.

The man climbed up the wall with precise skill and grace. He was light on his feet. Max took pride in being fast, but even as he helped the guy up onto the wall he knew this guy could probably out sprint him if he had to.

-Man. Whoever you are. You rock.

The voice sounded familiar somehow and as Max looked at the guy he saw a flash of green skin peeking out front under the hoodie. A long forgotten memory tried to push it's way out but Max had bigger problems at the moment. The Chinese men below were yelling insults.

He heard a whooshing sound and more on instinct than anything else Max threw his hand out. With more luck than he could ever claim to have had in his life he felt his fingers slide onto the smooth wooden handle of a thrown hatchet. He gripped it tightly and felt his arm tug against the force of the throw, halting it before it could hit him.

He looked down onto the street and saw it mostly empty. He could see the subway terminal he had been heading for just below them. Yellow caution tape was stretched across him and a light up sign read "Out of Order." An idea sprang into his mind.

"Don't thank me yet man," He raised his voice to just under shouting to ensure the men below heard., "Look the bus is pulling up. This way."

He slid down the wall to the street and waited for his new companion. When he spoke again this time it was a whisper.

"This way."

He headed for the subway and ducked under the tape. Even if the station was out it made for a heck of a good hiding place. He quickly made his way to the security terminals with the swipe card slots and jumped over the small rotating blockades that stood there. He found himself in the deserted terminal and stopped running.

Hopefully the hatchet men would think he had hopped a bus. And as Max looked at the map in the terminal he saw that the next station was only a few blocks away and he could make it there using the maintenance hallways.

"Why were you being chased down dude?" He asked without looking at the man.

"Damn." Elliott put all the power and strength of a religious invocation into the word. "Nice catch." Was this guy just that lucky Or was luck making its rounds tonight? To just reach out and snag a hatchet in flight took skill and cajones of steel.

He followed the man's gaze, figured out the basics of the plan, and listened for the go-ahead. Nobody would ever say this alien was bad at following directions except when this alien was bad at following directions. But that mainly happened with model kits and furniture from IKEA.

Boots scraped gently against the wall as Elliott followed down. Into the deserted subway, over some barriers. Into an empty station. Nobody else was around.

The guy asked what he'd been doing to make the men so mad at him. Why was he being chased down? The easy thing to do would be to tell the truth and roll with it. The fun thing to do was to double over breathing heavily, and say breathlessly. "Hate. Crime. I'm green." What did Kermit the frog say? The lie was easy. Believable. It wasn't like they were speaking enough English to invalidate his statement.

"Are you." Breathy breath. "Going to hold. Onto that hatchet all night? It's a nice souvenir, man. But I think it's little dangerous to run with." He stood straight again, recovered from the running. Hoodie guy had never discarded the hatchet he'd caught. It was a wonder he hadn't gotten hurt!

Max raised a questioning eyebrow as the man explained why he was being chased. A Chinese gang was commuting a hate crime on a green man? Max had to be missing a crucial part of the story here, but for the moment decided it best not to ask. If the green man didn't want to spill the beans that was his right.

The man mentioned Max holding the hatchet? Had he not put it down? He looked at his hand and saw the wooden handle clamped firmly in his grip. He had payed no mind to it at the time but standing there he became hyper aware of it.

"Good point. Adrenaline man." He said.

He looked around and found an old trashcan to drop the hatchet in. He lowered his hood with his now empty hands and something clicked into place in his mind. He turned to look at the man.

"Wait I know you," He said in surprise, "Last time I saw you you were wearing a blue pimp suit in that club. Dude you gave me a good ass kicking that night. I didn't wake up till after you had already left."

The green man had faced Max in an underground fight club about a year ago. Max had attended mistaking the battle for a dance battle. He had fought to the best of his ability but the green man had put him down.

Blue pimp suit? He didn't remember... wait. Maybe. Yeah. That sounded weird enough to be possible. He barely remembered what he wore last week, let alone months ago. Fights, now. Fights, he could remember. The jumping the guy had done earlier that night... yeah.

"Yeah, hey..." Elliott trailed, thinking. Then it came to him. He snapped, then pointed at the guy. "Didnt I lick you you?!" Wait. Yeah. Kind of a weird thing to remember. But he had a reason. "I couldn't taste anything except aftershave for an entire week. Sorry. That's really freaking weird. I don't remember if they gave out names during that fight. I beat up a lot of people. Who were you again?"

Who was he again? He probably hadn't given out a real name. It was usually important to keep tabs on that crap. Way too easy to flub it and screw everything up. That was why he tried to stick with the same aliases in the same circles. That way, if one person knew him, he wouldn't screw it up by having someone else refer to him as someone else.

Should they keep moving? If the people didn't fall for the trick, they were just standing there reminiscing about ass kickings.

Max laughed as the green man remembered him from his aftershave. He couldn't quite get his head around how it must feel to taste with hand tongues. Max knew how good this guy was. He could have handled those hatchet men, so why hadn't he?

"I'm Max. What was your name" He asked.

He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the subway map for reference. He didn't want to wind up lost down here. He took a few steps over to the maintenence door and tried the knob. Locked. Figures.

He dug into his fanny pack and produced a small plastic carrying case that had his lockpicks. He'd picked up some useful skills in training during CLASS. During an infiltration Sim he had been taught how to pick locks by a Havenite. It was surprisingly easy.

He put his tension wrench into the key hole and chose a pick as he exerted slight pressure on the thing. The pick slid in and he racked on the pins until he felt the knob turn with a satisfying click. The door swung open into an unlit dark hallway.

Max stashed his lockpicks and pulled out a small pocket flashlight. A beam of light shot through the darkness and illuminated the hallway. It was honestly a little spooky.

"So after you?" He said.

Would he give a real name, or a fake name? Guy was sticking his neck out for him. Fake name, it wasn't. "Elliott." Elliott said. "Or, I guess, some people call me October. Nickname. Nice to formally meet you."

Max pulled out a lockpicking kit and picked a lock. Nice. He had some applicable skills, then. Those were always good to have. Elliott himself probably could have done it, if he'd had tools on him. He didn't, though. Too easy to get caught with those and have to explain.

The door sprung open. Elliott's second set of eyelids slid away, then came back with the sudden light change. The flash light helped.

>>"So after you?" Max said.

Hurried Chinese shouting came from behind, as if on cue.

"Yeah." Elliott shut the door gently, then stepped past him, pulling a keychain flashlight from his pocket and turning it on. They could both be prepared. "Let's get out of here before they figure out where we are." He started walking down the hall.

Elliot introduced himself and Max nodded. Max heard the shouting and Elliot shut the door and took the lead. Whoever these hatchet men were they wanted to catch Elliot bad. Max couldn't tell for sure between the echo of the empty station and the fact that he didn't understand Chinese but it sounded like more than three voices.

He had hoped his little stunt would have worked, but obviously getting away was going to be a little more difficult. He made his way alongside Elliot down the dark hall. They were lucky it was so late otherwise running into workers might have given away their location.

He couldn't make out the voices anymore as he took another turn. They had faded to indistinguishable noise behind them. Max looked at Elliot.

"Are they tracking you somehow? Of all the places to check they seem to be coming right for us." Max asked.

At this rate the hatchet men would catch them and Max would have a fight in his hands. He hadn't wanted any of this. Why did things always have to be so complicated every time he tried to do something good.

"Maybe they have a sniffer?" Elliott volunteered with a casual shrug of his shoulders. It was possible. "A guy who scents mutants. Senses mutants." He wasn't a mutant, but it was possible his DNA was strange enough he'd give off a unique scent of his own. Max was a mutant. Maybe they were now tracking him. No loose ends. He frowned at that thought.

"I'm sorry you got involved." He said. "If these guys are anti-mutant enough to track us both... well, we should give them the slip. I'd rather not fight them if we can avoid it. Especially since you went out on a limb for me when you could have just kept low."

Why a mutant would be with a mutant hate group was an explanation Elliott hadn't considered. The backstory was so ludicrous he hardly gave it any thought. He stopped walking, looked over his shoulder at Max. In his old age, he was getting more honest, rather than less. It was a bad habit to have.

"I haven't told you the whole truth..." he said slowly. Better now than never. If the guy wanted to balk, he should give him a fair chance. Damn him and his newly forming conscience. "They aren't a hate group... they're more like the Mob. I... kinda attacked their facility. I really didn't expect them to catch me in the act. They deserved it, but--" he stopped talking. What the hell kind of excuse was that?

"A sniffer huh?" Max said in response, "I didn't even know that was possible."

"Yeah says the guy who came back from the dead" He though to himself.

It was true. Anything was possible now. Max couldn't assume anything, that was something he needed to be aware of. He watched Elliot walking ahead of him and heard his apology. Max gave a small shrug.

"Don't worry about it man. You needed help and I was there. That's what's important. If we end up in a fight, well I guess it's gonna be a bad day for them." Max grinned.

Elliot looked back at Max in the poorly lot corridor and Max thought for a moment he saw vulnerability in the man. Then he explained what had caused this commotion and Max mulled it over for a moment. He didn't wanna get into the middle of a gang war, that didn't seem smart. He could split up with Elliot at the next junction and leave the man to his own devices, but that felt wrong.

"Why did you attack them?" He asked, " I assume you aren't an idiot, so you had to have a good reason."

He heard a smash behind them that must have been the door they had locked being broken down. Max checked his phone and looked at the map. They were going to make it to a service tunnel in a moment, an old tunnel that had been decommissioned and used for storage. There would be a ladder in there. They might just gwt out of this.