Sitting in his office the Ranger shuffled papers across his desk. Everything from inventory to a few personnel files. He checked the time and dumped several of the files away into a drawer. He had a meeting with a kid about working there at Blackforest Tactical.

A perk of the sealed off nature of the business was that the Ranger could dress causally at work, most days. Jeans, boots, and a plaid button-up that he did not tuck in. The kid wasn't interviewing to be on a board of directors. Business causal would be overly dressed up most days.

Of course the kid wouldn't be able to do the usual security work. But, a company can't run if everyone serves the same function. The kid would be more like an intern. He would help fill in the gaps. Clean guns, file documents, inventory ammo. That kind of thing. He would be paid of course, unpaid internships are the worst and the Ranger could spare the money for it.

Blackforest Tactical Solutions was a smaller security firm that seemed to make more money than made sense for their size. The secret being that they were actually a private military company that handled security as a day to day. This meant keycards at doors, including the entrance, and tiered access to the various parts of the office.

The guard on duty today, Terrance, had been given the name of the kid who would be showing up today and would escort him to meet with the Ranger. Terrance was likely the best person to handle this. As far as the people who worked the vanilla jobs at Blackforest, Terrance was the one who not only didn't have a stick up his butt, he seemed genuinely friendly while still being capable.

The Ranger left his office and went to the boardroom. and sat along one of the long sides. He normally sat at the end, but this would be just him and the kid. Sitting at the head would be overkill. The table sat in the middle of the room and had eleven chairs. One at the head and five on each side. Lining the walls were guns; rifles, shotguns, and pistols all of them unloaded. Save one. Only the Ranger knew which one was actually hot.

The Ranger checked the time on his phone. If the kid was on time he should be there any minute.

He had heard the kid was a pain in the ass, but the Ranger was one to encourage investing in social capital. He knew someone that got the Ranger's attention

All was fair in love and the job market.

In another life, he'd traded and even thrived on social capital. Somehow, now, it felt like cheating. He really, really needed the job in order to get the apartment he wanted. And he really, really wanted to stay out of the Mansion.

But he didn't want to toady.

Jude was unsure of how to fit in this potential job. It wasn't acting, like his last one. It wasn't selling his mutation for money, like his first one. It sounded like just a job-job. Like, a job that anybody could do.

That, more than anything else, made him take the chance.

Jude didn't have a lot, but his shoes were the same kind of brown that his belt was and he'd combed his hair. And his hair was his hair. He could have shown up as a 7 foot tall lobster monster... instead he had his best jeans on. No holes. He was met by a generally beefy dude. The Wong had been all fast twitch muscles. This man had 'I want to arm wrestle you' written all over him.

After a quick back and forth, he proved to be a generally nice guy despite the build disparity between them.

He'd been warned that any one of the people here could break him in half and eat him for breakfast (he was paraphrasing, of course), but he did have his pride. If this Michael guy turned out to be a turkey-armed, gun kissing know-it-all, Jude was walking.

Somehow, that wasn't the impression he was getting as he was escorted through a modern and sleek glass and concrete structure. On some level he had... taste.

A little rap on the door and Jude was ushered in by the man whose name he'd already forgotten. Turbo? James? Eugh. He was just making it up now. Whoever he was, he took the initiative to introduce Jude to the sole inhabitant of the room of many guns.

"Michael Hunter, meet Jude Coilin." He pat Jude on the back hard enough to make him take a step forward into the room. "You'll do fine, kid."

Jude took a nervous seat across the table. "Hi. I'm Jude. I hear you can use a pair of hands." He was willing to overlook the fact that they were sitting in the middle of a hell of a lot of firepower so long as this Michael Hunter was.

The came a rap at the door and it opened. In stepped the kid, Jude, as Terrance had introduced him. The Ranger gestured for him to take a seat. The kid would have been under dressed in most businesses. The Ranger a bigger fan of more casual attire, so long as it was on the nicer end, approved. Jude sat and took the initiative on the conversation.

"Hi. I'm Jude. I hear you can use a pair of hands."

"Howdy. I'm Michael." The Ranger reached across the table and held his hand out to Jude. It was almost like the table was made exactly wide enough for this gesture between to individuals.

You can tell a lot about a man from his handshake. A good handshake should be firm. Neither party should be crushing the hand of the other. The Ranger's handshakes were like rocks. Unyielding in how firm they are, but only tight enough to convey strength without having to crush a hand to prove it.

"Y' heard right. I've been out of country fer several years an' this place has come somewhat unglued in my absence. I need someone I can task t' fillin' the gaps. Sometimes that means office work, sometimes that means gettin' yer hands dirty in the armory." The Ranger indicated the wall behind him. "Ever worked with guns before? I don' mean shootin'."

Howdy. That was strike one.

Strike two was the fact that he wanted a handshake. Jude's power had been giving him fits recently. He didn't trust it. Touch made that more difficult, but Michael didn't seem to have any obvious mutation other than his beefcake arms. Actually, he was sitting the whole time. So he didn't know for sure if he skipped leg day or had goat feet or what.

He probably hesitated a bit too long before he extended his arm across the table to shake this man's hand. Jude knew his way around a handshake. He could have given him a floppy fish, but it was just as creepy to give as it was to receive. He could have tested him with an overcompensation squeeze, but the first guy had been right. Every dude he'd seen looked two or three times his bulk. So he just did his best.

Jude's power gave a testing lick, giving nothing away about the man's mutation other than the fact that it was there and it wouldn't mind swapping.

Armory. His eyes flicked around to the guns on the walls again. Right. Paramilitary or whatever.

"My only experience with guns is taking them away from people." He shrugged. It wasn't a brag, but he had been training to be a member of the X-men team before. "I understand you respect the potential for destruction, but I've honestly never touched one except to hand it over to the police. I've done a little inventory and box carrying too, but honestly not much." He probably should have been working harder to sell himself or sound enthusiastic.

The truth was that what the Ranger would want done he could get a trained monkey to do it. Humans were much easier to work with and were less of an investment to train.
While it may have taken a moment for Jude to return the handshake, it was not a dead fish. That was good at least.

Jude said his only experience was with taking guns away and handing them over to the police. So, he had touched them. Not the worst place to start. There were people who couldn't handle the thought of touching a firearm.

[colo=tan]"Blackforest Tactical is a private security firm. We offer armed security services not unarmed security. Unlike other security services we drill proficiency. Using handguns is an incredibly easy t' lose skill. It idn't uncommon for us to run through a ten-thousand rounds in a week here."[/color] Most of that was from the dark side of the business running training in the shooting house. "This means a fair amount of disassembly to clean and reassembly of firearms. Mostly pistols. An' nothin' more than a field strip most of the time."

The Ranger slid back to the wall and pulled a SIG Sauer P226 off the wall. He rolled back to the table and set it down. "SIG Sauer P226, the gun you'll see more than any other here." The Ranger narrated what he did for Jude. "Always eject the mag first. Then lock the slide back, this is the slide lock on the left here. Confirm empty visually an' with a finger. This is the take-down lever, rotate it down ninety degrees and then release the slide an' it comes right off. Push down on the guide rod to compress the spring. Slide it out. This gun uses a tilt barrel, push it forward before tilting it up and pulling it out. To reassemble go in reverse." The Ranger reassembled the gun before sliding the magazine back in and decocking the hammer. He then passed it over to Jude. "Y're turn."

Michael just mentally walked right on past the concept of a teen that didn't use weapons, but still disarmed someone with a gun. At first Jude was mildly insulted. Then he realized that it was possible that disarming your enemy was so commonplace and everyday to him, that it was nothing special.

That made Jude sit up in his seat.

He didn't want to be security, but he wouldn't mind leeching off the collective badassery of a place that didn't bat an eye at going through 10,000 rounds in a week.

10,000 rounds? What were they trying to split bullets with other bullets like archers split arrows in the bullseye!?

He was still trying to process what that meant when the man stood and went for one of the weapons on the wall. He did not, Jude noticed, skip leg day. Nor did he have a tail or goat legs or any other tells of his mutation.

That was actually a relief.

And the gun show was cool... until it was his turn.

"How many people work here?" Yes. That was a much smarter question. 10,000 bullets wasn't a big deal to 10,000 people, but 10,000 guns were going to be a serious pain for everyone involved.

Jude took the reassembled weapon into his soft hands and pulled the hammer. No. Wait. Magazine. He sheepishly undid the hammer and started from the actual top. Magazine, slide, and there was a little mechanism to lock that... he wasn't as fast or smooth, but he had been paying attention and he was extra careful to actually look for bullets even though Michael clearly already had. Gun were not a joke. He wasn't kidding when he said that he respected what they could do to a man.

And once the SIG Sauer (as the handle indicated) was all in pieces, Jude felt as if a little bit of the mystery that had surrounded guns was dispelled.

"Huh. And this is a field strip?" He picked at what appeared to be some kind covering cap that he assumed closed over a screw. Surely this thing came apart more... Ah, but he was supposed to put it back together. So he did.

“How many people work here?”

”Other than myself there is Alpha team and Bravo team. Alpha is four guys. Bravo is currently at fifteen. “ This amounted to 500 rounds per man per week. Bravo only ran around 50-100 rounds per week. Alpha burned most of the ammunition themselves.

The Ranger watched Jude disassemble the weapon. He by no means expected perfection. He wanted to see if he could remember a set of instructions after one telling, or in failing to remember problem solve to accomplish the task. He would have plenty of time to get this procedure down rote. The kid did good. The Ranger was impressed that he didn’t just assume the gun was empty because the Ranger had just disassembled it. The most important step was observed.

“Huh. And this is a field strip.”

”Correct. If y’ ever need to break it down further we have vises an’ punches in the armory. That’s more fer repairs than cleanin’ though.” The Ranger shifted gears. ”A 226 is the easiest thing y’ll have t’ break down. There will also be ARs, bolt guns, and shotguns needin’ cleanin’. When not doin’ that y’ll file papers and do whatever else needs doin’.”

The Ranger slid a sheet of paper over, took a pen and wrote a number on it before sliding the paper over to Jude. Y’re hourly wage. Starting when you walked in the door. Y' can work as much as y' want provided we need y’ as long as y’re here at least 20 hours a week.” The number was a quite competitive offer for what amounted to an entry level position in New York City. It was written on what appeared to be an employment contract which provided health benefits, not the best in the world but hey it’s something.

20 employees, including Michael. It wasn't hard to do the math in his head for the bullets, but now Jude was wondering how much 500 bullets cost. Or even how much 1 bullet cost.

20 wasn't so many that Jude figured he'd be doing gun duty all day everyday and Michael confirmed that. Except he only had the most tenuous concept of what he'd be doing.

"What's a bolt gun?" Like Rosie the Riveter?

And then he handed him an offer. Easy as that. With medical.

"I'm not even sure what you do here." He was trying, and failing, to play it cool. He could have hyperventilated at the number on that paper. "You're armed security, but like... for what? What kind of people are you guys? And you're not just offering me this because you're somehow obligated." That last one was a question, technically, but he wanted it to be true so bad that it came out more as a statement.

Jude picked up the piece of paper, scanning over the fields required. He had most of this memorized, but he didn't exactly have an address right now. Oh dang. He was going to have to pay taxes.

"I think this is my first job that's not illegal." And considering that it wasn't his first job and it seemed way more dangerous around all these weapons that was an odd thought.

"What's a bolt gun?"

"A bolt-action gun." The Ranger turned to the wall and pointed to a Remington 700 AX off near the corner to his left. He often forgot people in this city aren't as up to speed on gun terminology as they were back home. "Y' have t' work the bolt by hand to cycle it."


"I'm not even sure what you do here. You're armed security, but like... for what? What kind of people are you guys? And you're not just offering me this because you're somehow obligated."

It was good the kid was asking questions. Smart people ask questions. Smart people can do more and what they can do they do faster with better quality. Normally. Sometimes they're just pains in the ass. "Fer whoever pays. We've worked as security fer celebrities, fer foreign dignitaries, and large corporations." And the United States Department of Defense and other NATO powers who needed something done off book. "I have shit that needs t' get done. I need the hands. Y' came with a decent enough recommendation and y' seem sharp enough. There're people I can show how t' break down a SIG and they'll fumble away fer five minutes and not get it done an' what's more y' aren't afraid to ask questions when y' don't understand. I'll wager there'll be a lot of that an' better you ask then trash somethin'.""I think this is my first job that's not illegal."

"I think this is my first job that's not illegal."

That gave the Ranger a pause. He was about to ask, but thought better of it. The less he knew the better. "Everybody has t' start somewhere. Jus' try not t' get charged with any felonies."

"When y' finish with that I can give y' a tour."

Jude saw the gun. He heard the explanation. He still did not know what a bolt was, but he surmised that it was somewhere on that gun. He had a feeling that he'd be figuring it out eventually.

They worked for anybody. Switzerland. Neutral territory. That was something Jude could appreciate as well. Especially when he did nothing to reprimand Jude for working illegally before.

Jude smiled for the first time since he'd shown up. Yeah. He figured that he could fit in here okay. He had his doubts because he disliked guns— or maybe it was better to say that he disliked what guns did to people, but it wasn't him running out and shooting. In here, they were as good as any other machine. Sure. It wasn't a job with his specialty in mind, but it was a job and that was just fine for a kid just starting out.

He filled out the form. For his address he wrote down the address for the Sister School. It was unavoidable. He'd have to go back eventually.

Jude stood and handed the application back.

"Ready."

The Ranger had a feeling the term bolt was lost on the kid. He'd let it go for now, there could be a rifle anatomy lesson later.

Waiting for Jude to finish the paperwork the Ranger checked and sent some emails from his phone. This one was yet to be cracked. Screens on modern phones didn't last long in the Ranger's care.

"Ready." Jude rose and handed back the application.

"Alright. Let me show y' 'round." The Ranger moved toward the door and after opening it said, "Let me drop this off in my office first." He waved for Jude to follow and set off down the hallway. Not far, his office was only one room down from the meeting room. He opened the door.

It was like a portal into another world. While the office was predominately modern, greys and blacks with metal and glass and a little wood, the Ranger's office was best described as Western. Dark wood desk, leather and wood chairs, the works. And to top it off a Red Deer mount hung behind the desk. It had a 40" spread and 14 points. A souvenir from his years overseas.

The Ranger dropped the document on his desk and left the room shutting the door behind him. "First up, the paper hell."

The Ranger led the way down the hall and into another room that had a couple walls of filing cabinets, a bookshelf with books. The most used looking books all read "Acquisitions and Dispositions" and then had an identifier. A desk sat in the middle of the room with a laptop and stacks of papers. "Y're gunna get real familiar with this room." The Ranger pointed to the cabinets. "Tax documents, invoices, transfer logs, personnel files. You get the idea. Anythin' that would need t' be written down." He then pointed to the bookshelf, "Manuals fer the equipment we run, logbooks, an' anythin' else that is vaguely book like an' needs a home."

And just like that every suspicion that Jude had was confirmed.

Dead deer, wood paneling like it was cool, the smell of leather was overwhelming, and... and… Sebastian​ would have hated it. Maya would have hated it. He hasn't the foggiest clue what Cafas thought, but he had seen his apartment and knew he had no taste.

It was something different, though. He needed something different. Jude reserved his 3rd strike for now. He wanted to try this non-mutation reliant path before he asked for his application back.

“Does that deer not freak you out?” He didn't want something pointy mounted where it might fall on him…

And then it was “paper hell.”

“Ah. Now this is something I’m more familiar with.” He hadn't had a job like this in this timeline, but the skills should be the same. “None of this has a place yet? Shouldn't some of the personnel information be under lock and key?”

Jude cracked his knuckles. It wasn't that tax documents were fun. It was that tax documents were far more in his wheelhouse and he wanted to impress.

“Does that deer not freak you out?”

"Not at all, but it is good at knockin' people off balance fer me." There were three kinds of people when it came to seeing Lucky on the wall. The first kind were impressed by the incredible size of the deer's rack. Red Deer were massive. The second didn't care at all. The third were the people who it creeped out or in some other way bothered. Bringing the third group into his office often gave him a leg up in dealing with them.

“Ah. Now this is something I’m more familiar with. None of this has a place yet? Shouldn't some of the personnel information be under lock and key?”

The Ranger pulled out his keys were a little device was on the key ring. "I can get in any door without havin' t' take the time to swipe in. Y'll get an ID that y'll swipe. Keeps a log of who comes and goes an' how long they stayed."

Moving to the desk the Ranger picked up a few of the papers and looked at them."Fer the most part y'll be filin' papers that get stacked up in here or enterin' data into a spreadsheet." He indicated the laptop. "Might even have y' dig up files from time t' time." He pointed to the stacks of paper, which were all in their own bins, if all lopsided from being dropped in there in a hurry. "There're labels that say what needs t' happen to each pile."

The Ranger moved back to the door. "Next the armory."

Huh. The deer thing was a social maneuver. Jude's regard of Michael went up several points and he put him back on Strike 1. He wasn't just the muscle. There was a brain!

"RFID? Spiffy." Gadgets were cool, and saying stuff like 'the armory' made this feel like a secret spy agency of some kind. Spy agencies didn't pick up dumb kids to pull apart guns... unless they were using him for his fingerprints!

Jude squinted at Michael surreptitiously and resolved not to touch anything else for a while. Was this a front of some kind? Surely a little alone time in paper hell would let him snoop enough to figure that out.

"I can use a computer okay. If not, there's the internet." The internet, collectively, knew everything. It was a bit like will-o-wisps of ye olde fairy tales in that the internet tried to lead you astray, but more and more people were figuring out how to sift through the dirt to find the gold.

"I can use a computer okay. If not, there's the internet."

"I'll have some of the guys show y' how t' do what y'll be doin'. Not hard, jus' detailed. I'm not gunna jus' throw y' t' the wolves."

Making their way through the halls to thee armory the Ranger pointed out offices. They wouldn't need to worry about getting a tour of them, but the kid knowing where they were would be useful. Eventually the Ranger stopped at a metal door that was clearly reinforced. A light came on by the door as the Ranger approached. It registered him. He then entered a number on the keypad. Anyone could lift the means of getting into the rooms here, this one room had added security.

The door clicked and the sound of metal bars sliding into the door could be heard. The Ranger opened the door and stepped inside.

The armory was the biggest room so far. Half the room was dedicated racks that supported rifles, shotguns, and pistols. The other half of the room had racks with parts, shelves with boxes of ammo, and a long bench with several vises mounted to it. The bench had tools hanging above it on the wall and many bottles of various chemicals and oils.

"Here's where the gun an' ammo are stored. We also handle the cleanin', repairs, an' if we need t' work on a build. All guns are logged in an' out of here. All guns're inventoried every quarter. As ammo comes in it is checked off against the invoice and then stacked over there. An' if you see those shelves over there," The Ranger indicated a set of shelves next to the ammo that had magazines"Y'll help keep the mags there loaded. Alpha goes through a lot of ammo an' it takes a long time to load up their mags by themselves."