Poseidon wasn’t in the best of moods. Normally the man prided himself on his control and expertise in the world, allowed himself a chance to truly revel in the seat of power that he had managed to craft for himself. That wasn’t in jeopardy, oh no, however the same couldn’t be said for one of his holding operations that had proven to be quite the cash cow. There was a business man, a Martin Doheny, who recently bought up a series of buildings that were far closer to his holdings than he cared for. The man was known to be one of those civil types who wanted to change the world. He revitalized communities, pushed out the crime, and made a name for himself as a friend of the people.

He was no friend of Jorge’s. The man had made it no small point that he detested the Atlantis Club and everything that it stood for. However, while he claimed it was for the betterment of the community, Jorge knew of the man’s deep dislike for mutants. He didn’t know Jorge was one, at most, he figured the caramel skinned nightclub owner to be little more than a mutant sympathizer. And his plan, unfortunately, was quite brilliant. He wanted to buy up property around Jorge and hopefully use it as a means of pushing him out; much like a game of Monopoly. But Jorge was not about to let go of a single brick of the land that he had already claimed and purchased. It was merely a filing error that cost him that bid, but it was an error that had lasting repercussions. Now here was a matter that needed to be fixed…

His first instinct was to contact his personal cleaner, Hecate, to go after the mogul, but while she was good at her job, she wasn’t the most – subtle. Jorge needed subtlety in order to clean up this mess which meant that he needed outside help. From time-to-time, Jorge reached out to third parties, people who weren’t necessarily within the organization and who couldn’t be directly linked back to him. They were good for make sure a job was done neatly and quietly, as well as wouldn’t make a direct connection to himself. Jorge was a man who always thought two steps ahead.

With a sigh the man removed himself from the chair inside his office. Straightening up, he wandered over to a nearby mirror and stared at himself. The dark eyes that were usually filled with amusement now burned with rage. Lifting his chin and turning his head, he casually ran his hand over the black and silver stumble that was settling in. With a sigh, the man shook his head as he centered his gaze one more and ran a hand through his smoothed back hair. He wasn’t stalling, really, it was more that he just found doing this to be rather annoying. He hated contacting new assassins, but it was better this way for everyone.

Moving back to his desk, he only spared the two-mirror an idle glance, watching as the patrons of his club danced and drank and snorted their problems away. It seemed like fun but now wasn’t the time for such things. Besides, Jorge prided himself in remaining clear headed – made for better business.

He scooped up a burner, one he only used for these kinds of purposes and casually glanced out the second window in his office that looked out beneath the waters of the river. Watching as fish casually swam by, the crime boss sighed, taking comfort in their vision. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the serenity…and entirely missing the fact that several of the fish were swimming backwards; completely backwards, as if the world were momentarily stuck in reverse. However, just as he opened his eyes, he noted that everything was swimming as it normally should (though he had to marvel at seeing the same fish twice. Huh…).

Staring for a second, the man shook his head as he turned back around to his desk. From there he plucked up cellphone, one that he only used for these occasions. Needing some new blood for this particular sort of mission, Jorge had asked around colleagues until he found the name of a new contract killer, one that came with excellent references. No name, however, so mysterious, but Jorge was fond of the theatrics – so long as the individual could do their job.

Typing in the number, Jorge jotted out a quick message of contact.

Open for a new contract?

[SEND]

What Jorge didn’t realize the second his finger landed on the send button was that cosmic forces that twisted and turned, unseen, all around. As a stream of data flew from his phone, disappearing into the void of the cosmos, Jorge could never wrap his mind around one fact. He couldn’t even fathom that the tiny holes, the little tears in the fabric of the universe that had steadily begun to expand, had swallowed up his message and sent it to parts…unexpected.

Hades had decided to build a safe house. Well, it was more of a hideout really, who are we kidding. It was a base. Hades was settling down in New York for a while. He had a few longer term projects on the go. Firstly was that he was starting a war kennel. Training dogs for missions took time and dedication. Secondly he had decided to set up a place that was more then just a personal safehouse. He wanted a place where he could, if need be, stage a team or a small army for larger missions and contracts, so Hades bought a Hotel. Not just any small seedy hotel mind you but an international hotel.

Hades attention flicked to a security monitor just in time to catch a briefing for the newest batch of security staff.

In a Room Elsewhere, a screen flickered to life in front of a group of unique individuals:

"Welcome. My name is Winston. Now that you have had the physic locks placed to ensure secrecy, or have come to alternative arrangements, let me give you a brief tour of your new workplace.

Let’s start with the Hotel Continental, a well-known 5 start hotel of good repute where you will find all of the normal trappings that go with intuitions of that standard. Indoor and outdoor heated pools, helipad, Michelin star restaurant, night club in the basement, etc. It should be noted the third floor of the Continental is reserved exclusively for VIPs. Any violence, damage, or other activities which would in any way, shape, or form draw attention to the Continental are strictly prohibited. If such events occur it is your job to contain them with the utmost urgency.

To the world at large the Continental is by all appearances owned by Mr. Glont, a reclusive Russian who mostly works in investments. He made his fortune in oil and petroleum. To those of us in the know, the true owner is Hades, an immortal combat specialist and gun for hire. A man known for keeping his word. Any others willing to kill for a price are asked to swear on their honor that they will hold their hand while on the premises of the Continental except for self-defense.

The Continental boasts an excellently trained security staff, which you will shortly be joining, a number of trained Adapteds permanently on site, and daily bug sweeps. All of this adds together to make the Continental an excellent "neutral ground" for the aforementioned professions to meet, negotiate contracts, and relax. The concierge is also able to procure most any items that may be requested by the guests, in some cases you may need to assist in delivery, for the right price. The result is that at any point in time the Hotel Continental plays host to some of the deadliest and most proficient killers in the business. Any attack on the hotel itself would be met with very strong resistance....."

Hades switched off the monitor. He had sat through more than one orientation and did not need to see more. It had all come together rather nicely. Well there had been some speed bumps but they were now either resolved, placated, ten feet under or... widely distributed. Hades was not sitting in the hotel itself. He was sitting in the base Under the hotel. It was not yet fully complete but progress was going smoothly. It was then that his thoughts were interrupted buy a vibration in his pocket, a text message. It came on one of his current burner phones. He cycled them often, it made him harder to track and trace. The message simply said:

>"Open for a new contract?"

There were a number of facts that stood out to Hades about this text. Firstly he did not recognize the number, and he knew the current numbers of all of his existing or previous clients by heart. So a potential new client then, the second fact was that Hades did not give out his number freely, so the fact that someone new had obtained Hades number without his knowledge either spoke of a high recommendation by an existing client or someone who was dangerous to extract the number from an existing client. Either way, Hades was intrigued. So he replied in the usual short brief fashion.

"10-03. Referee name? Contract specifics? Price?"

10-03 was old school police code for ready for transmission. It was a commonly used turn of phrase in some circles. If this mysterious texter was recomended by a client of good standing, the contract was challenging and paid well, Hades had no qualms with taking on a new client.

Jorge waited. The message was sent but he knew these types weren’t always the quickest to respond. They could be in the midst of an assignment or dealing with a number of other cases. Maybe he was just being jotted down into some little black book the man carried with him. That was fine, it wasn’t as if they had his real name. All he wanted to ensure was that the job could actually be accomplished in a timely manner. A picture of patience, the watermancer set his burner phone back down onto his desk, clasped his hands behind his back, and stared out into the open water his club dipped under.

After a few minutes of thought, the man turned to try and occupy his mind elsewhere. He needed to go over the numbers for the latest Ambrosia shipments and hopefully get a better handle on his troops. They were getting listless, as evident from their lack of recent activities. It was good because it was a sign that his operations were plugging along successfully, but the quiet also bred sedation. The Syndicate couldn’t afford for the group to get too quiet, after all.

A sigh on his lips, Jorge turned and was ready to make way to the window to take in the sight of his beloved club when he heard the distinct sound of buzzing coming from his desk. His brow arched, the businessman turned on his heel and meandered over to the desk. Tilting his head, he reached down and plucked up his burner and pulled up the recent text message. A smile tugged at his lips – excellent.

10-03. Referee name? Contract specifics? Price?

Just a glance seemed to show that his newest contact was fairly professional. He wanted the name of who referred him, as well as information about the job. Taking the moment to return to his desk, Jorge slipped into his large chair and pulled a file folder from his drawer. He plopped it down onto his desk, muttering to himself as he flipped it open and retrieved the information that he had so far been able to gather on his target, one Martin Doheny.

Reading through what he gathered, Jorge started to type out a message in reply to his new contract killer, adding whatever the man asked for. This wasn’t a case where Jorge needed to charm or sell him anything. Assassins were pretty straight forward and only wanted the details – Jorge relished the simplicity of it.

High references from Bengaal. Specs: Martin Doheny, rising city developer. Price is 100k.

[SEND]

If the man was available now to discuss things, Jorge would stay in his seat and await to see what the killer had in mind. So, pulling a silver case from his coat pocket, Jorge opened it to retrieve a cigar and set it between his lips. He could go higher in price, especially since Mr. Doheny was beginning to being a recognized face in the city. But it was always best to offer what you were willing to build up from. Now was the time for negotiations…

The response was prompt. Hades liked that in a client. It usually indicated one who knew exactly what he wanted, and was decisive.

>High references from Bengaal. Specs: Martin Doheny, rising city developer. Price is 100k.

"Winston?"

"Checking sir."

Hades sat in his newly completed command center underneath the hotel. His desk computer in front of him. Winston's voice issued from hidden speakers, filling the sound proofed room and on the wall far in front of Hades, holographic projections flickered to life.

"Displaying information now."

Winston was through and professional, the best in the business, otherwise he would not be there. Hades only worked with the best. The life, biography of one Martin Doheny scrolled on screen. The man was a vehement mutant hater and had helped fund and organize anti-mutant rallies. He had also advocated for "Mutant Free" zones in some of his development projects. He was one of those people who "took up a cause" to find meaning in life, that and accumulating power and money. Illusions of security and grandeur. Hades snorted to himself. The man had capital and was wielding it like a sledgehammer, buying what he wanted, using every trick in the book to coerce cooperation. The type who have a stick up their rear end. Being paid to terminate such a man was a bonus. The reference came through as well. Bengal had replied promptly even though it was the dead of night and informed Hades that yes they had recommended him to a new partner. They declined to mention what kind of partner, nor did they need to.

So target valid, check, reference valid check, price good, check. Hades decided to extend further courtesy to the new client. He texted back.

"Reference good, target valid, price accepted. Preferred method? Special requests?"

The target was close by he had just purchased the 5th most expensive house on NY. 50 East 69th Street. The rice was good, it indicated that the client meant business and had thrown in a little something extra for the trouble. For that reason and the reply from Bengal, rarely did a new client come so highly recommended, Hades decided to allow the client to choose the method of execution, public or private? and did the client have any special preferences, was it meant to look like and accident as a subtle accident, did the client want it loud as a not so subtle message, did he/she want just ashes?

Martin Doheny was a cancer. He was a cancer that needed to be snipped out of the growing body of Jorge’s organization. The crimeboss’s influence was already reach far in the underground, but he needed legal holdings as well, not just the promises and loyal of criminals and gang leaders. That was not how a war was won, that was not how footing was gained. If Mr. Doheny was allowed to continue to buy up these properties, he would become a thorn in his paw and Jorge was not going to allow that. No, the man’s antics needed to be put to an end before he became untouchable. Now was the time to strike.

Sitting back in his desk, taking the smoke into his lungs and breathing it out with a contented sigh, Poseidon casually set his phone back onto the table and started to crack his knuckles with his thumb. Pop. Pop. Pop. How many jaws had these broken? How many noses smashed in? How many times had he felt the warm pool of crimson ichor coat his hardened hands? Too much to count, it would seem. Years and time had made it almost a necessity for the older crimeboss to regularly pop his knuckles. It was a good time waster, especially when he was waiting.

Zzzt!

He blinked and glanced back to his phone. His new friend had seemingly taken his offer under consideration. Happy that the individual was willing to take the job, Jorge reached over, plucking up his phone and read his latest message…

Reference good, target valid, price accepted. Preferred method? Special requests?

Jorge grinned. Not just any grin, but the grin of a man who was about to have his problems solved. Though he knew better than to celebrate before achieving his goal, he still was pleased that now the gears were rolling to take care of his situation. Of course, Jorge would remain cautious as he contemplating how he wanted Mr. Doheny to meet his demise.

Oh the pride in him wanted Doheny to know that it was him. That it was Jorge Cervantes himself who had ordered the hit. But for as much as his ego wanted such satisfaction, it wasn’t a safe call. If by any strange or impossible means the man survived and, worse yet, had evidence of Jorge’s involvement; that would be bad for all parties. No, it was safest to ensure that this remained quiet and subtle…and accident, maybe.

Another wicked grin on his lips and Jorge balanced his cigar between his lips and started to type out his response.

Excellent. Make it accidental.

[SEND]

Jorge paused, looking at his phone. Another grin as he typed up a quick followed up.

Live steam possible?

[SEND]

Doheny may not know it was Jorge himself that called the hit, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to watch the man die. At least that he could savory for many moons to come…

Hades had already started doing some preliminary surveillance when the clients text came in.

>"Excellent. Make it accidental. Live stream possible?"

Accidental, that narrowed the options, but only slightly. Accidental could mean anything from choking to death in a restaurant full of guests, accidental electrocution in the bathroom, slipping down stairs to the far more dramatic. Hades recalled one of the most dramatic "accidental" deaths he had arranged. It was a multi-millionaire who had built a steel and glass monstrosity in a city in Dubai. One of the features of said building was a cantilevered swimming pool made from high strength glass, more than half the pool was suspended in mid air. In the dead of night Hades had climbed the building and drilled a weak spot in the pool, filled it with a time delay acid and simply waited for the target to take his morning swim. The results had been spectacular, and untraceable. But for this one, perhaps something different. yet still dramatic.

"Conditions accepted. Contract confirmed. Will initiate stream when ready."

That was it. Hades had given his word, the contract would be carried out regardless now. It was a known fact that Hades always completed his contracts, regardless the circumstances.

Hades began surveillance in earnest. Within minutes Hades had the personal diary of one Mr Martin Doheny on his screen in front of him. Minutes later his banking information, personal and corporate. Hades set Winston to work running recognition algorithms and data mining programs to churn through the terabytes and terabytes of data. Apparently Mr Doheny always drove with two escort vehicles, one in front one behind. the same route every day.

Now relying on traffic cameras and digital information is all very well and good but it never paid to become too reliant on such methods. Nothing could compete with actually eyeballing the locations. In two days Hades had already picked out one primary location and two secondary locations for Mr Doheny to meet his demise. Now all that was needed was a little bit of elbow grease.

As this client was very generous with his price, Hades would supply high quality results. This was in the form of multiple cameras. Accident site Alpha would be on the exit to the Lincoln Tunnel, the turn where road 495 overlaps the light rail. Accident site Beta and Charlie were at a construction site and en-route home respectively.

Mr Doheny was in a good mood as he sat in the back of his wallowing Cadillac. He preferred comfort. At the present moment in time he was sipping a bloody Mary and enjoying the sun rise in New York while putting financial pressure on a hapless land owner to sell his property, by literally forcing him out of business. The fear filled pleading voice issuing from the speaker of his phone was as a soothing lullaby, perfect for the start of a new day. Then it all changed.

Un-noticed by anyone a small object detached from the rear bumper of the lead escort vehicle. That object had two functions, which it performed admirably. The first was to cause a catastrophic blowout of the front right tire of Mr Doheny's car. The second was to fragment and leave no trace behind.

Martin heard a bang and suddenly his car lurched to the right. Naturally at Mr Doheny's instance they were going well above the speed limit so a sudden swerve was accompanied by substantial momentum. There was no hope of stopping. The car veered right, climbed the guard rail and fell. A hidden web cam and mic captured every facial twitch, expression and sound in high definition. Another camera in the bumper showed where the car was going. A hijacked traffic camera recorded the event from yet another angle. When a client paid Hades generously, he got generous results.

The car landed heavily on the tracks. There was even enough time for Martin to regain consciousness and see the train coming towards him. He tugged frantically at his seat belt. It would not come undone. The spring had been removed. The camera swiveled to track him. Its last shot showed the train perfectly framed behind Martin Doheny and then static. Then an instant before impact both web cameras disintegrated.

Hades collected the recordings, all three angles, the audio, new reports from two separate new channels as well as a copy of the coroners report and sent it to the client.

"Stand by for file transmission. Contract complete"

The final burst of information was a bank account number in the Caymans. Hades work was done.

He should have been in a good mood; should have. But the truth was that Poseidon was admittedly perplexed. There was something that was bothering him, something that the man couldn’t quite wrap his head around. The fact the matter was that Jorge had expected someone to be dead – and he was far from it. However, therein lay the problem – Jorge had seen him die.

It was a mystery that had plagued the man for the last day or so now. Ever since he had witnessed the event, apparently live-streamed from the assassin whom he had hired, Jorge found himself on cloud nine. Doheny had been one of his biggest competitors, a thorn in his side, one whom he simply wanted to be out of his life so that he could freely conduct his business. With the knowledge that the man was dead, Jorge started to relax and smile again. It was one less thing off his plate.

Imagine his surprise, when no more than a week later, he watches dumbfounded as the man’s company bought up another bit of property he had his eye on. Add to that, no one was that odd but when Jorge had investigated the matter, found that Martin Doheny was alive and well. It was…aggravating to say the least.

Jorge immediately returned to the Atlantis Club, fuming, thinking that he had been cheated out of his money by some wanna-be killer with strangely good references. It didn’t make sense to him but Jorge was more than livid about the matter. However, he was not one to lose his cool, especially when the evidence he had seen with his own eyes had proven to be rather convincing. Something was wrong and he wanted to know what was going on.

River, his resident tech genius. He had her look into the video, trace the streaming signal and investigate to ensure that none of it was CGI or any kind of creative moviemaking. She had his phone for less than a few hours before she came back with two rather interesting notes. The first was that the individual in the video was certainly dead. This wasn’t a hoax or CGI. Whether or not it was truly Mr. Doheny was hard to tell by just judging from the video, but it wasn’t a hoax as far as she could tell. But that wasn’t the strangest thing; she couldn’t track the source.

Jorge has known River for a number of years now. She is one of his most valued members of the Syndicate and her expertise and mutation made her an invaluable resources. Because of that, the man had a respect for the woman, and her word. If she said that something couldn’t be tracked – he listened.

Her explanation was simply that the source did not exist. She searched, she dug, she sought every nook and cranny of the internet that she could reach and absolutely nothing in the world or deep web led her to an answer. It was such a startling development, even River’s logical mind was having a hard time processing it, but she presented her information nonetheless.

Jorge mused on this for a day. Something was off. Something was strange. He had no idea to know that the cosmic forces were tearing at the fabric of reality as if it were swiss cheese. His text conversation and the responding video occurred just when the gaps were right. River’s investigation happened when the way between worlds was closed. None could have guessed that this was the reason as to the strange anomaly, but it did pique Jorge’s curiosity.

Then it happened. He didn’t know what it was but the news outlets were all over it. People every were panicking because of a strange incident that happened in Madison Square Park. Grainy footage of a some official looking mutant battling with a fleeing man had reached the internet and copied a billion times over. Jorge had not been present for the even but judging from the video, he was glad he wasn’t. Whatever it was…it defied explanation. What was even worse was the straight, translucent window that appeared from nowhere. What was going on?

A small gulp and Jorge turned back to his burner phone. It was a new but he made sure that River transferred the same contacts over. Suspicion led him to pick up the phone and curiosity had him pull up the contact of the assassin that he had hired. It had been days since he had seen Doheny die. Money was sent promptly. However, he never got a confirmation that the money had been officially routed. He clicked his teeth curiously before he typed up a quick response and sent it.

Was the Doheny contract truly fulfilled? Was payment received?

[SEND]

Hades sat alone in his personal room. It was quiet and dark, eerily so. Word had spread fast, those staffing the underground base knew that Hades was not to be disturbed. Much had happened that week.

It all started when he got textual confirmation that proof of contract completion had been confirmed and that the money had been transferred. No money arrived. That in and of itself was odd. Bengall, like all other existing clients, knew the risks of recommending a bad client and the consequences. One did not cross an assassin. History was littered with examples of the horrors inflicted on those who did not pay assassins.

An assassin who has not been paid will not just kill you. He will go to work on all that you own, all that you cherish, he is patient, he is calculating and cold. He will pick apart your life, unravel it one thread at a time. Often he can sell the piece by piece destruction of the offender for a higher price than the original contract. History is clear, unless you bury the assassin, you never cheat him of his payment.

Then Hades got an odd text.

>"Was the Doheny contract truly fulfilled? Was payment received?"

Hades reply was short and succinct. Firs was a series of images, of one Martin Doheny on a mortuary table, the distinctive "Y" shaped stitching shown. The second image was a close up of the toe tag, identifying the body as belonging to one Martin Doheny. The third image was of the ME's report, including the weight of various internal organs, the X-rays showing the extent of the damage, the T.O.D etc. After the images three words of text.

"Payment not received."

A news flash caught Hades eye. IT was garbled, there was much confusion. A single glance to one of the cameras that served as Winston's "eyes" and a glance back to the confused garbled message on screen was enough to send Winston charging valiantly into the sea of information. Due to the wide range or sources and sometimes contradictory nature of information they provided the task took longer than usual, but as usual Winston delivered. Winston delivered his findings in the voice of Jarvis from the Iron Man movies. He could, and frequently did, change his "voice" at will. Sometimes he did it to annoy Hades other times, well no one knew.

"It appears Sir that there has been a rip in time and space."

There was a pause as Winston allowed Hades to digest the information. It was easy to forget that not everyone had hundreds of thousands of CPU's and GPU's with which to process the world. Hades nodded for Winston to continue.

"A stable portal seems to have appeared on the streets of New York that apparently grants access to an alternate version of our current universe. The starting point of both universes are the same but somewhere in history certain events had differing outcomes."

At this point Hades interrupted Winston. "Which makes it entirely possible that the client could have been referring to the other Martin Doheny, hence the query regarding contract completion."

"Exactly sir."

Hades would have to mull over that. He did some more searching, apparently the governments of both sides were still negotiating regarding the crossovers of finance but the current consensus was that currency was currency and maintained a 1:1 exchange rate. If all of this turned out to be more than conjecture, then perhaps it would be better to insist being paid in gold, or at least ensure that wire transfers would be honored between universes. "See if you can connect with the internet on the other side. start building a data base on the surviving Martin as well as his biggest competitors. Check the prices of hits if you can. If the pricing is similar to this universe, then the amount for the hit either indicates a strong personal hatred of the target or a significant business rival."

In a different universe something vastly more sinister was occurring. In a corner, a syndicate member was tracking outgoing transmissions. She had left the recorder in place and had only just managed to slip away long enough to download and review the recordings. The tap monitored all outgoing cell transmissions in the area. Much of it was the usual, every day people going about their every day boring business. A few were between Syndicate members, offering her juicy bits of information which she stored away. She was always looking for ways to get noticed and promoted. One particular entry caught her eye. It was unfamiliar. On a whim she tried dialing the number from a distant pay phone, her confusion increased when the phone informed her that that number was not valid. It did not exist. Never the less, this information was worth something. She sent a message detailing the contents of the information and her findings to "base" and signed the message "Spyder".

In his rich, lavish and well defended home, Martin Doheny eagerly received word from his operative. He viewed Jorge and Undertow Holdings as a thorn in his side. Particularly as Martin Hated, absolutely Hated Mutants, which Jorge seemed to support. He eagerly put out a hit on the unlisted number in the other universe.

Back in the original universe, the result of AV Martin's actions was that Hades was informed that his cabin in the woods had been burned to the ground and the five dogs he was training, killed. That was where he had spent the most time with his burner phone on.

Hades sat in the dark, contemplating. The rage within him burnt a fiery blue. It was not a blind rage that lashes out in haste, it was a stone cold calculating rage that planned meticulously. He sent a text,

"Hit completed in wrong universe. Considered on the house. Other Martin killed my hounds. Possible leak suspected. His demise will be public. Are the change in parameters acceptable? If so send symbol to leave at scene."

The world was changing – and it was ripe with possibilities. Jorge found his attention completely enraptured by the events that were being shown on television. The news on the subject of the “temporal anomaly” were nonstop. People everywhere were weighing in on the issues, cameras never stopped filming that undulating, glowing wormhole in the center of Madison Square Park. Reports stated that it was everything from aliens to angels or a secret government weaponry gone awry; but under the surface, most believable reports were coming in that it was, in fact, due to several mutants who were caught fighting. This…intrigued crime boss. But it was information that he would have to utilize in full later.

On a notepad (the one thing on this planet that couldn’t be hacked), Jorge continued to jot down notes in his own specialized code when he heard the familiar buzzing of his phone. Picking it up, he down his silver pen and swiped to the messages; it was his contract killer.

"Payment not received."

Jorge cursed under his breath. Shaking his head, he sighed as he set the phone down. The photos that were sent over seemed proof enough that the contract was fulfilled. The dots were beginning to connect now. After a second of thought, he reached over to his intercom and pushed the button, ringing for P.L.A.T.O. Room. There was only the shortest amount of times between rings before an exhausted voiced picked up.

“Yeah boss?” It was River.

Jorge breathed a sigh. ”River. Get up here.” he said softly. ”I have a few questions for you.”

Once he hung up, it was only about ten more minutes before River showed herself at his office door. Anyway receiving a call like that would have been filled with fear and panic that maybe they were caught doing something wrong. However, River knew better than this because she was as loyal as they came. Dressed in gray overalls that were stained with grease and singe marks, she appeared at the man’s doorway and waited to be allowed in. As she did approach, Jorge directed her to sit and the pair of them began to discuss.

Jorge showed River his phone, his contact with the assassin and his records of a payment being sent out. He wanted to know if what had happened here was a mix up called by whatever was happening in Madison Square Park. Taking the man’s phone and plugging it into the port at the base of her skull, River began her search as her body slumped over in his comfy chair. Jorge stood, carefully adjusted the young woman so that she wouldn’t fall off and poured himself a drink. He knew it would take her some time.

Before long, River gasped, her body awakening as she pulled the phone plug out. Jorge reappeared at her side, offering her a glass of seltzer water with ice. Gratefully she took it, sipped, and sighed before she nodded her head.

“Internet is abuzz. Government is going nuts trying to figure out how to contain or monitor it. The consensus is that a type of Einstein-Rosen bridge created by unknown origins has appeared and stabilized in Madison Square Park. If the space between realities has been that thin, sir,” she breathed, taking another sip. “Then is stands to reason that the initial contact you had with your assassin could have been achieved by one of these anomalies.”

Jorge sighed. ”So I’ve been communicating with a man in another universe. A man who killed a different Martain Doheny.”

River nodded. “Multiverse concepts theorize that dimensional planes run parallel to one another but with different sets of circumstances prevailing. Example, in universe A, you decide to have pancakes for breakfast. In universe B, which occurs in the same time frame, you instead decide to have waffles. Choices big and small, in theory, have the ability to create alternate planes of existence.”

Jorge shook his head. ”Of course this couldn’t be easy. But at least it goes to show that my assassin wasn’t trying to cheat me.” Bzzzzzztt!! Jorge glanced to phone. ’Speak of the devil…”

"Hit completed in wrong universe. Considered on the house. Other Martin killed my hounds. Possible leak suspected. His demise will be public. Are the change in parameters acceptable? If so send symbol to leave at scene."

A leak? Jorge narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He normally was extremely careful with those people whom he let into his world. If someone was trying to gain information on him, then he needed to find out who they were and quickly. So, turning back to his tech-genius, Jorge gave her an encouraging smile. She was one of the few that he knew he could trust implicitly.

”River. Contact members of Syndicate. We should send out an exploratory party before the government starts putting up borders.” he scoffed. Even if there were walls, it wouldn’t stop them. As River turned to go, Jorge stopped her by touching her shoulder. Leaning down he whispered into her ear. ”It also appears that we have a mole. Investigate any information that has been re-routed. We need to stop it. Now.”

River nodded. “Yessir.”

As she turned to go, Jorge took another deep breath and returned to his desk. Pulling his phone from his jacket, the man sighed as he pulled up the hitman’s number and started a response. They needed to set this right. On top of that, he was already liking the man’s style. After all, you can never turn down a free job, especially when it was getting rid of anti-mutant fanatics like Martin Doheny in two universes.

Taking a moment, he thought to himself before he pulled out a piece of stationary, one that he only used for the most specific of circumstances; upon it was emblazed the emblem of the Syndicate. Taking a picture of it, Jorge sent a message back to his contact.

Wrong Doheny, but you still did the work. I respect that. Half-price for the Doheny you took care of. Same price for you have yet to dispose of. Deal?

[SEND]

Hades waited and planned. While he awaited his contacts return he was preparing. Even now, at no small cost, Hades had smuggled a transmitter over to the other side. In the Alternate Version (AV) of the world, Winston was deploying data miners, gathering information. How was AV Doheny different? What kind of resources did he have? Who stood best to gain from his demise? What was the lay of the land in the AV world?

He had Winston do something complicated with it to mask the signal, something to do with making the phone number virtual so it could not be triangulated through cell towers and signal bouncing. Bottom line, unless AV Martin Doheny had a few spare super computers or equivalent at his disposal, he would not be finding Hades anytime soon. The dogs would be replaced, new puppies delivered for training to begin. Hades toyed with the idea of waiting till the dogs had become fully trained war hounds and setting them on Martin but that would take too long, besides he had a contract to fulfill.

He had just finished burying the bodies of his hounds when his phone buzzed.

>"Wrong Doheny, but you still did the work. I respect that. Half-price for the Doheny you took care of. Same price for you have yet to dispose of. Deal?"

Winston came back with his report. Hades browsed it over a glass of whisky. So the AV Doheny, had considerably more muscle. Winston had discovered hints of bribes or monetary transfers to politicians. Martin's servers also boasted some serious protection. It would require a physical hack to breach, but Hades would take care of that. Martin's largest competitor was Undertow Industries, headed up by one Jorge Cervantes.

The next day one unremarkable man passed through the borders from the World the the AV world. He was unremarkable in every way, seen then immediately forgotten. That unremarkable man picked up a duffel bag from a bus station locker and vanished in the crowd.

After three more days of recon, Hades was ready. He sent a text to the client. "Accepted, watch his stocks and the news."

It seemed as if Martin Doheny's luck changed for the worse overnight. His construction projects seemed to be plagued by accident after accident. Crane cables that snapped just as the load was 8 stories off the ground, water and gas pipes ruptured at inconvenient times. A number of night watchmen swore they had seen a specter in dark flowing robes carrying a scythe that was at least 8 feet tall. They pointed to the chains that had been sliced cleanly in two with a single stroke. Martin's stocks plummeted as most all of his construction projects in New York ground to a halt as safety review after safety review was called.

It was amazing what a little money and common hatred of an anti-mutant mogul can do. The next to go was Martin's personal reputation. Allegations of bribes, of back room deals began to surface. Some true, some sounded so plausible as to be true, the result was the same. Life was not going well for Martin Doheny. He got to enjoy a front row seat as the mighty empire he had built suffered death by a thousand cuts.

Then exactly two weeks after Hades entered the AV world, one Martin Doheny was found deceased in his residence, along with every member of his security force. They had either met their end by a throwing knife, a broken neck or being hit by an 8 foot scythe. A symbol was left above the former mortal shell of one Martin Doheny. It was the same symbol that adorned every throwing knife. Eyewitnesses told of a dark robed figure with glowing green eyes wielding an 8 foot scythe passing by the windows. Hades work was done.

As Hades left the AV world he sent one last text.

"Contract complete. Please see attached instructions for deposit of funds. If you ever cross over, Hotel Continental, check in under the name Bengaal."

As an after thought, he added one more little bit of information. Winston and some hired help had come across it when they broke into Martin's server. A name just a name, but who knew where it might lead. The client had been generous, so Hades would return the favor. That was how relationships worked.

"See link for access to Doheny's personal server. Found a name linked to leak....Spyder. Over and out."

The world was different now. What was impossible suddenly became possible and a new world of opportunities presented itself. There was now not one earth, but two, united by a single entry point, one that the governments were scrambling to grab a hold of. It would be a mess at first, but eventually order would come in. In the meantime, it was chaos that Jorge was more than willing to exploit. What he didn’t like, however, was when said chaos screwed with his own plans.

He had made contact with the other side, with a hired killer who had somehow, by some miracle, accepted his job offer. The job was fouled up and the wrong man was killed. Obviously it was no fault of his hired gun, how could it be? Though it would cost him a bit more than he had initially offered, the man was thankful for a hitman with business sense. He was will to offer him a free kill, something that few, if any, really offered to the gentleman before. It was that honesty that spurred the crimeboss on to make his offer.

An offer which would be accepted.

It was a few days later that Jorge would hear anything about Doheny. For the most part he kept his distance, no engaging in the man as he normally would and instead continued with his business affairs as he always did. However news reports began to pull at his attention. He had tasked River with tagging certain news stories on the web that were related to Doheny and to have them forwarded to his personal email.

Whoever the killer was that he had hired, the man certainly had style. At first it seemed too good to be true. Minor troubles seemed to plague Dohney’s operations before it turned in full on crises. With pleasure, Jorge watched as the man’s life was dismantled, piece by piece. Rumors of a hooded figure took to the web, pertaining to some connection to the man – it seemed the assassin had a flare for the theatric.

In the end, Doheny was broken, shattered man, having lost everything close to him, eventually getting so far as to him questioning his sanity. On his last night on earth, he was treated to a rather gruesome bloodbath. Bodies were found all over his home, broken, sliced, gutted; the worst seemed saved for Doheny himself. The man had been mortally wounded and left to extinguish sitting in a pull of his own ichor. Most had no idea what to make of the senseless, yet calculated killing; the only evidence left behind was that which Jorge used for the Syndicate.

They were known now. It would be understood that trash like Martin Doheny would not be tolerated in this city. Ever again. Jorge watched and read all this with the most sincere and pleasurable of smiles upon his lips. However, just as Jorge light a fine cigar to place between his lips, he turned to his phone which had started to buzz once again.

Contract complete. Please see attached instructions for deposit of funds. If you ever cross over, Hotel Continental, check in under the name Bengaal.

He nodded. Immediately he contacted River, giving her the instructions and a strict word to ensure that the man was paid for every cent he was owed. Jorge wasn’t about to risk making an enemy of such a man. And with the invitation to meet in person was offered…why not? Already Jorge’s mind was turning, the pieces clicking as he started to formulate a new plan, a plan the expand, a plan to cross worlds…

Bzzzt!

See link for access to Doheny's personal server. Found a name linked to leak....Spyder. Over and out.

Jorge looked down at the phone. The name Spyder. His eyes narrowed. So there was a leak, someone who was passing along information that they knew they shouldn’t be. That was a matter that Jorge was going to have to look into personally. But, a silver lining in all this was that while they would be losing an employee with this “Spyder”…there was indeed the prospect over another. Jorge grinned.

My eternal gratitude. And I may take you up on your offer.

[SEND]

Yes. It wasn’t a bad idea at all…