By the time Quin got home from work the moon was high in the sky and it had been dark for a few hours. That's how it went these days...that's how it had been for quite some time now. Between work and the dojo, she usually found herself home just in time for a shower, quick meal, and sleep. She'd even found a meal service that allowed her to pick up prepped organic lunches and dinners at the beginning of the week. It was like an upscale version of TV dinners that actually tasted good. Once upon a time, Quin had liked to cook, but that seemed like another life now.

As she walked down the hallway that led to her apartment door, the redhead jingled her keys in her hand, making enough noise that her approach would be anything but a surprise. As she put the key in the lock and turned it, Quin's spare hand rested on her side arm. Some things never changed, especially after you'd been the victim of a violent home invasion. Once inside the door, Quin pushed the door shut and locked the two deadlocks and the flip-lock. Better safe than sorry.

Satisfied with her exterior security, Quin moved deeper into the apartment and around she looked, in all the nooks and crannies. Nobody was anywhere they weren't supposed to be.

Flipping open her phone and checking the camera app once more to be sure, the redhead nodded to herself, no alerts from the motion-activated cameras in the apartment. Seemed safe enough, though Quin didn't know how the camera would work for an invisible invader. Since Quin didn't know any mutants with invisibility powers, there wasn't anyone to ask to test the theory. Still, one couldn't worry about everything all the time. So off to the kitchen Detective Archer went to pull her duck and pomegranate stew from the freezer and put it in the oven. Then it was time for the shower and comfy sweats. Hair still wrapped in a towel, Quin pulled out the chair that sat at her desk and opened her laptop.

There weren't always work things that the detective could do from home, but there was a case that she'd been investigating for a while that seemed to finally be turning up leads. In a city the size of New York, fake documentation was a booming business and it caused serious problems for the city. From teenaged students who got into bars and subsequently into trouble to people committing insurance, welfare, and identity fraud, it was something that the NYPD put a stop to whenever possible. A suspect had turned state's evidence a few weeks ago and had proved ready to give up some information on one of the larger fraud rings in the city. This particular perp had even been so kind as to provide a long list of license numbers that had been used in recent documentation. A few years back, New York had updated all of their state ID's to the type with the nifty scan codes. All it took to find out where the fake license numbers were being used was a cross search of the numbers and the list of scans from local establishments.

The oven timer made its presence known and Quin retrieved her dinner, sitting it on the desk to cool next to her computer. Then the search was on. Accessing the scans and the list provided by the CI the redhead grinned as a few matches popped up.

"John Smith," she whispered to herself as her eyes fell on a name that was simply too common to be common, "Whoever has you is either really young and experienced, or trying just a little too hard to blend in."

Narrowing the search to that specific ID, Quin glanced over the results, spooning the cooling food into her mouth as she searched for patterns. It looked like there was one particular spot that this person visited with some regularity. That was where she would start.

Immediately, Quin began to draft an email to her Captain. It looked like Detective Archer was going out tomorrow night.

OOC - I left it up to you where exactly we are! We can assume the next post picks up the next night.

Club Vibe wasn't the best spot in town, Inferno held that position in Max's heart pretty firmly, but after spending most nights of the week waiting tables their Max preferred to head to Vibe to cut loose and have some fun. There was less chance of running into a regular who would want to chat, or being mistaken for being on duty and feeling obligated to put in a drink order for a table that waved him down.

Vibe was busy, the line wrapping around the corner. Of course the scantily clad girls giggling in lacks that basically screamed "I'm here with the girls but you could take me home if you like" were getting in with no wait at all. Max stood in a button up shirts a pair of nice jeans and a flat bill baseball hat. His fanny pack was hanging from his hips as usual and after a little bit of a wait he flashed the bouncer his ID. The guy used his littler scan gun to verify the ID, something that Max found pointless given that his was fake and he had never been halted, and after a small satisfying ping Max entered the club.

Vibe was mostly a EDM club that preferred to let flashy, strobing lights and loud music dictate what the crowd wanted. It was pretty packed and Max saw groups gathered around the single bar and most of the tables full. That was fine he wasn't here to drink.

He walked past the railing that separated the dance floor from the bar and entered a sea of people. Some were wearing clubbing attire while what Max could only assume here hired dancers wore glowing body paint and not much else. Max made his way through the crowd moving to the beat and looked for his target. Sure enough he found his mark quickly.

At any dance club you are sure to find a group of people circled around someone who had a large amount of talent. Most people came to places like this to grind on their date without fear of being yelled at for serial harassment or to find a stranger and clumsily shimmy around while making awkward conversation. The circle was where the performers went.

Max saw two guys in the center dancing fervently against one another in a series of back and forth. One was tall and was popping with precise skill. The other was obviously a b boy as he windmilled on his back. It took one round for Max to decide that the taller man would win. Stunts looked good but he had more skill. Sure enough after a few back and forth the taller man recieved a round of cheers and the competitor slinked off into the crowd. The music changed songs and the crowd waited for the next dancer.

Max threw his hat in the ring? Literally. The cap flew into the center of the circle and Max slid on his knees into the circle and picked it up. Swift motions brought the hat around him in circles, the hat spinning around him as he twirled it on his finger before flipping it onto his head as he hop to his feet.

His competitor started dancing, locking and twisting to the music. He was good and Max felt a healthy respect for the man form. Then it was Max's turn again.

He started with tutting making quick and precise squares with his arms before dropping back to his knees. He swept them around him and knelt allowing his momentum to dictate his motion. He took a quick step up and his hips and chest alternated popping to the beat. He got in the man's face, grinning a confident smile.

It went on for a few more rounds but in the end Max found himself surrounded by applause and his opponent fist bumped him respect. This is how dance clubs worked. He might be a thin, gangly looking white boy but he had moves and here that meant more than looks. He was sweating now and made his way to the bar, ordering a water. He was on cloud nine, nothing could ruin his night.

Song

Of course it was a dance club...Quin veritably grumbled as she tugged her skirt down, waiting in line outside of the sort of place she usually wouldn't be caught dead inside. It wasn't the drinking, it wasn't the crowds, it wasn't even the almost certain lack of dart boards and pub tables...it was the dancing. Despite the fact that she'd earned every band and belt a person could get in aikido, Quin Archer couldn't dance to save her life.

The whole point of being undercover was blending in, so her skirt sparkled with silver sequins over a large pattern of black flowers and her shirt was a simple black camisole. It worked well enough, and the heels gave her enough height that she could see that she was going to be waiting for a bit. People milled out, people milled it, it was how clubs like this worked. Sooner than she would have thought, but longer than she would have liked, Quin made her way past the bouncer (he was checking ID's like a good boy...) and into the fray.

Good. God. Surely this was hell. Why had she chosen to do this on her own? Why hadn't she sent someone else in to do the dirty work? People were grinding and dancing and...was that a dance off? Oh hell no.

Making her way towards the bar, ignoring the women and giving a few men pointed stares, Quin ordered a jack and ginger to sip on while she scoped things out. One couldn't truly be undercover if they didn't blend in.

It seemed like the dance battle had ended in some sort of odd draw, and people were clapping. Nice. Quin scanned the club, looking for anyone whose demeanor screamed that they had used a fake to get in. The irony was, that pretty much everyone here was in the age range that they could have passed for underage.

One such person approached the bar near Quin and ordered a water. A water? There was no way on Earth that her luck was that good.

"Playing DD tonight? Or don't know what to order?" She asked with a grin.

Max sipped his water as the woman next to him struck up a conversation. She seemed uncomfortable in her clothes, the skirt shining in the dancing lights. Max raised an eyebrow, she want with anyone and she seemed less than interested in the dance floor. Intersting. Not one to be polite Max gave her a sheepish grin in return.

"Neither really. I worked up a bit of a sweat out there and wanted something to actually quench my thirst," He said kindly, "What about yourself what brings you here?"

He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't pin exactly what was causing it. He felt a bead of sweat run down his face completely unrelated to his exertion on the dance floor. He felt like he had found himself in a vipers den and just hadn't figured it out yet.

Ahh. He had been one of the dancers. Mildly disappointed that tnis ruse wasn't going to be immediately fruitful and allow her to get back to her sweatpants, Quin decided that conversation could be good. She would blend in more, if nothing else.

"Im new in town and checking out the scene." Quin said casually, "You were really moving out there. Do you come here a lot?" . She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"My name is Quin, by the way."

Max nodded as Quin introduced herself and complimented him. He never knew how to take compliments. He felt a rush of excitement as she mentioned wanting to check out the scene here. Anyone who was new to dance needed a good chance to get the experience. Max always wanted to share that with people.

"My names John. I come here about once a week to cut loose after work. It's a pretty nice place."

He looked at the bartender now that he had been properly hydrated.

"Jack and coke. On the rocks." He ordered.

The bartender took a moment and prepared his drink. Max took a drink from his beverage and looked back at her.

"So you liking it so far?"

Name: John...check.
Frequency of visits: weekly...check.
Newbie drink order for bravado: Jack and coke on the rocks...check.

It was almost too good to be true. The skirt was starting to get itchy. Sequins were gorgeous and sparkly and a girl could wear them like the stupid X-Men wore their stupid uniforms...they itched though. It would be nice to get back into sweatpants. But first.

Reaching into her little beaded reticule, Quin palmed her badge and slid it across the bar until it touched the little napkin that had come with John's drink.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Smith. . She said, very aware of the fact that he'd never told her his last name, "Maybe we should take this outside." .

God help her if he ran. She could, and would catch him, but lord only knew what that would look like in this getup.

V"Well there goes my good evening." Max thought.

He stared at the badge for a moment. He could run, he even considered it for a moment, but there would be a hefty process to pay. He couldn't go around having the cops chasing him and work for Haven. Plus if he ran he would have to ditch the ID and never come back to Vibe. This hadn't been a random bust. She knew his alias, and knew he was going to be here tonight that much was evident.

"Alright. Alright. No need to make a scene." He said heading for the door.

He exited into the night air and walked a little distance from the crowd outside as he weighed his options. He wasn't known for respecting authority, Max preferred to handle things himself. He had an idea of where this was going to go, the past year threw a wrench into things but have him something to work with. He turned to Quin.

"So Q, what do you wanna know?" He asked his expression blank, " Don't give me the this was a random bust crap either. You were looking for me. What's the deal?"

Oh good, "John," wasn't going to run...at least until he was outside the bar. It would be easier to chase out there, if nothing else, and surely there were some plastics around that she could use to help if things got hairy.

So out they went. Slipping her badge back into her reticule, Quin kept a close eye on "John," as he wove through the crowd and out into the open space in front of the bar. Clear of the bar and the dance floor, the pleasant demeanor of the young man disappeared and was replaced with an awesome sense of bravado.

When "John," was finished making demands, Quin crossed her arms and took that stance...the one where all her weight was on her right foot and her left hip jutted out a bit to one side. It was supposed to show that she wasn't impressed, but its effect was probably diminished by her outfit. Still, with the heels she could look down on him.

"Detective Archer will do, thanks." she said, "And this is going to go one of two ways. John. One: We have a nice conversation, you turn over that ID and any other documents you've got. Two: I take you downtown and we do this in an interrogation room without the nice background music." she let the words hang in the air, "It's your call, but it wouldn't hurt my feelings to grab my spare clothes out of my locker and get out of this mess. The heels are killing me." .

She had an impressive air of authority around her. She seemed unfazed by Max's attitude, not surprising given she announced herself as a detective. It was her job to be smart, quick thinking, and reading people. She might have found Max a bit obnoxious but she didn't know the truth. The tough guy act wasn't for her, it was for him. Even the best performer has to be able to put on a good stage face. Max wanted to come out ahead in this fiasco, so he needed to believe he would. He looked at her and tossed his arms up in mock defeat.

"Alright Detective Q, I'm cooperating. I came out here to talk. I could have run, but I don't want to be looking over my shoulder waiting for you to pop back up." He said stalling for time to think.

He could do what she said. That would be simple. The ID was useless now anyway. But what was this chat she wanted to have with him? He could tell by her stance and demeanor she was used to being in control. She had him on the corner. He couldn't let it stay that way. He pulled out the ID and held it out to her.



"I'll take option one. But I have a quick question first. If I went with option two you could hold me for 24 hours for questioning. You could charge me with possession of a false document, which is a misdemeanor in New York. By the time the lawyers got involved I'd probably just get a fine and some probation. Not a fun time but not terrible." He said taking a brief pause.

His father was a defense attorney, and a damn good one. He had been basically pushing Max to go into law since he could talk, which meant Max had spent plenty of long hours listening to his dad lecture him about cases, or sitting in his office as he talked over his current clients options. No wonder the guy had been so mad when Max decided he wanted to be a dancer.

"That sounds like just as much of a headache for you as for me. So my question is what do I get out of this for talking?"

Detective Q. Quin supposed that was at least a little bit of an improvement over simply being called Q. It probably wouldn't have even bothered her if it wasn't for her deep and unyielding hatred of nicknames. Where that had come from....was another story and she focused on the task at hand.

The kid knew just enough to be dangerous, as the old adage stated, and the red headed Detective smiled and shook her head as he pointed out the pros and cons of her taking him in.

"You're leaving out the part where I slap your smart ass with a 'persons under 21 in possession of alcohol with intent to drink' charge too. That one stays on your record for six months, you have to pay a fine, and you've got to do community service. Now that I think about it, I saw you drink too. I'm sure that counts for something...I've got a copy of the police code in my purse if you want to wait a second..." she said, holding up the ridiculous little thing. Quin wasn't the cop to try to intimidate with paperwork. All of those years as an intern had made her awesome with forms.

" All of that for one little headache." . She said with a bright smile, snatching the ID from the proffered hand and studying the thing.

The fact that the fake hadn't tripped the scanner at the door was proof positive that it was solid work. Most of the time kids like this got caught before they even had a chance to get themselves in trouble. The problem with this particular fraud ring, however, was that they were good at what they did. It was impossible, or next to impossible, to tell their imitations from the real thing.

"That being said...I'm still willing to go with option 1." she looked across the street, eyes falling on a 24 hour diner. They probably made a killing across the street from this place. "I'll buy you a burger across the street while we talk and cut you loose when we're done.". That seemed fair enough.

"Call me any variation of Q again though, and I'm taking you in."

She countered Max's argument quickly, leaving little room for retort or loopholes. It was the mark of a good cop that she had all that ready to go, she was definitely not a slouch.

"Oh she's good." He thought to himself.

She took his ID while giving him a brilliant smile and a solid remark to add insult to injury. She offered him some food and his freedom in exchange for some info and he found it hard to argue. He would help her out and then go about his mary way. He was interested in her though, she was sharp, he could make use of that.

He headed across the street as she gave him a warning about nicknames and he grinned to himself. Perhaps he was getting under her skin just a little bit. She was a rough and tough lady cop, but that didn't make her immune to annoyance. Max reached the diner door and opened it. He held the door for Quin and gave a steep bow.

"After you Detective Quin Archer, Badge number #######" Max said, keeping his tone sincere and his face straight.

They took a booth seat by the window. Max figured the Detective would want a view of the door and the street to keep an eye out for trouble. He ordered a Coke and a burger with fries from the waitress and looked over at Quin.

"So what do you wanna know?" He asked.

Now. That was progress! Quin was pleased with herself as the two of them made their way across the street to the diner. In spite of her tendency to eat organic, healthy, mostly vegetarian food, Quin simply couldn't say no to a good greasy spoon every now and then. After all, Vitamin G was one of the essential nutrients. Offering the kid a burger had been a clever excuse for her to get one herself while she hopefully worked some kinks out of her case.

Once they were seated, a waitress approached and "John" quickly ordered. ]"I'll have the same except with a chocolate milkshake instead of the coke." No sense in doing things halfway...

Now that food was settled, Quin found herself looking at the ID again. "This is good work." she said, back in serious police mode for a moment. "Not something that a kid with photoshop and a printer is making out of his dorm room."

She paused for a moment, trying to decide how best to proceed, "The first thing I want to know, John is how got ahold of one of these.". Quin left out the fact that ID's like that could be expensive, was this a trust fund baby who just wanted to get out on the town? Or was there more to it?

She ordered and inquired with Max about where he had gotten his ID. Getting the thing had nearly emptied his meager savings. She had analyzed the ID with ease and Max nodded impressed.

"At the bus stop on third street you will meet a guy named Tony that hangs out there at night. If you walk up to him and look young enough you can ask him when the 16th Bus arrives. He will give you a phone number to call." Max explained.

He was interupted when the waitress returned with their food. 24 hour diners had surprisingly speedy service. Max took a bite out of a fry.

"Text the number saying :Tony and you will get an address and time. Be at that place at that time the next day and you will find a guy set up with a camera and backdrop to take your picture. Wait five minutes and then bam you get a nice shiny ID." He continued.

His burger tasted like heaven and he felt like it was worth it to have to spill the beans. Having this group out would do Haven a favor too. The document ring had some good forgers that could be used to help get mutants in trouble new identities if they found their current work unavailable.

"I'd give you the details I had but the place changes ever night for security. You could arrest Tony but I think you want a bigger fish. You could come with me and I'll meet him and get the info for you. Then you can do your SWAT thing and get some nice credit." He offered.

He had decided he wanted her help, and the best way to get help was to give it.

Quin pursed her lips slightly as the kid spilled the proverbial beans...all of them...they were veritably swimming in beans by the time he was done. It was suspicious as hell. People didn't go from trying to strike a deal to being 100% cooperative, no matter how good the burgers were. They were awesome, by the way.

Some habits died hard and as John spoke, Quin pulled her little steno from her purse. How there had been room for so much in that little thing, she didn't know...except that she may have been bluffing about the copy she said she had of the police code.

"Tony...third street..." . Quin muttered, jotting down shorthand notes of all the details she was told. Even if the kid's sudden change of heart was a bit odd, that didn't mean the info wasn't helpful.

Notes taken, Quin went after a fry, dipping it in her milkshake before eating it and going after another. This place had been a good call. Maybe it was the food that had made John so talkative.

The kid had a point too. There would be channels to go through, of course, in order to set this up properly. It was doable though. "You're eighteen, right?" she asked, gesturing with a fry.

"What's your name, anyway?" she asked, "If we're going to be working together, I'm not going to call you John."