Trace Tanner, former agent of SUPER, causer of the massive rip in time and space that was currently throwing New York City into utter chaos, comedic name-r of villains, sat on a park bench wondering where it all went wrong. Looking at his situation from an outside, objective angle, he'd gotten incredibly lucky in several instances. He'd managed not to get killed by an army of the dead; he'd managed not to get killed by a half-goat, half-man psychopath that looked like something out of a bad horror movie. And more recently, he'd managed to not get killed (or captured) by one of the most efficient and deadly agents of his former employer. 

And yet, things still seemed pretty black for the 28 year old. He had no job. He had no friends here. Hell, the entire universe he had known was potentially sealed off from him. His parents. His friends. His ex-girlfriends. Well, maybe things weren't all that bad after all. 

Trace leaned his head back and let out a long breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. The day was typical for a New York Summer morning, cool with the potential for afternoon warmth, no rain. The sun was starting to get bright and there was a slight breeze that carried the sights, sounds and unfortunate smells of the city across any passersby. Having grown up in a slightly smaller big city area, Trace could remember a time when he'd lived somewhere with much less traffic and slightly less noise. But that was a different time.

And a different place.

Was anything about this universe the same as the old? Were the streets that he'd run as a child the same? Could he go to his parents' apartment in Chicago? Would they be there? Or would it be someone else? Would HE be there? 

The questions started to make Trace's head hurt. There were so many possibilities. It was too much to consider all at once. 

Trace had been in this plane of existence for a few weeks now. He'd landed (literally) with some compassionate souls who were kind enough to take him to get medical attention. He'd been pretty dinged up after his Stalker encounter and had nearly died. He'd been taken to a mansion that wouldn't have been allowed to exist in his home universe where a wonderful doctor had taken care of his wounds. Some events transpired and after recanting his tale what felt like a thousand times, the mansion staff had extended them a welcoming hand and allowed him to stay in an extra adult room where their version of the X-men were housed. The fact that there was a version of the X-men here lead Trace to many, many more questions. But they were different.

Here, they were vigilantes, true, but it was not the same as back home. They were something more here. They were official, if not accepted. They had different outcomes. They were very, very nearly accepted. It was pretty amazing. A choice by someone, somewhere could have caused all that difference in his own world. But things had gone a different way entirely. 

And if the rip he had caused was permeable, SUPER was coming. They'd be looking for him, they'd be looking into the mutants on this side of the breach.

Good luck to them.

The occasion for Trace to get out and about today was to track down a potential lead for employment. While he was okay where he was at in the Mansion, he didn't want to trade on their hospitality too long. And besides, word had gotten out through the community somehow that Trace had some experience as a government Agency in another universe. That brought about certain job opportunities that weren't available to everyone. 

On his first excursion out of the Mansion to take a look at this new world, Trace noticed he was being tailed. Oh, the guy was good. That wasn't at question at all. He'd done everything by the book and even improvised a couple of times when Trace had put him into awkward positions. It was seriously impressive. But Trace was better. It had taken him most of the morning and it was a long, difficult trek, but Trace managed to give the guy the slip. But he didn't lose the guy entirely. 

Trace decided that it was probably best not to let the stranger following you disappear back into the crowd without at least finding out who he was. So he began to tail the other guy. Not giving anything away, not giving any missteps where he could be caught. Trace was a professional, and his world was a little less forgiving of mistakes than this one. The scar on his back itched a little. A reminder of a misstep that he'd always carry with him. 

He'd followed the man back to a nondescript, modern looking building. It'd taken several trains and a cab ride to get there. He'd had to use his power (which still worked after everything, thank god) a few times to avoid detection. Trace noted down the location and made mental notes. Discrete security. Possibly people in plain clothes watching the perimeter. Trace would be willing to bet that this was some kind of surveillance post. Maybe a government SCIF. Or maybe some kind of private facility.

Trace withdrew to the mansion where he'd borrowed a computer to do some research. A quick search on the address found that the place was called 'Blackforest Tactical'.  They were, apparently, a high-end security company that had provided several clients including several foreign dignitaries, a couple of billionaires and even someone who'd gone on to be a presidential candidate. Impressive. Likely fake, but impressive.

Okay, so not precisely fake. It was likely a front for a real money-making enterprise. Potentially a government enterprise. SUPER was fairly nondescript itself. Hopefully, it wasn't this world's counterpart to SUPER. He was incredibly well-qualified for that kind of enterprise. 

So that's how he'd found himself outside Blackforest Tactical. On a bench. Waiting for the guy that'd been tailing him. Trace was about to find out what their interest in him was, one way or another. He patiently waited, breathing in the morning air. This could be an opportunity for Trace to turn things around.

The rip opening between universes had created chaos, because people had expected it. Beyond the initial displacement created by its opening everything had been rather tame. The US governments of each universe had reached a tentative agreement for the rip while they ironed out a more permanent one and established a border crossing.

The chaos was was one of people behaving like an army was about to storm across the rip any day and they needed to be ready. This had meant interest in security services were high. Which was good for someone who provided security. It also meant that companies like Blackforest Tactical needed to recruit new talent. Who better to recruit than someone who had been a government agent across the rip. Not only are they an extra pair of hands, but they were a source of intel. And intel is the most valuable currency.

To this end Chris Renfield, Sideshow, was tasked with following Trace Tanner. To his credit Tanner had shown skill at identifying and avoiding his tail. Sideshow then led Tanner back to Blac-Tac. Tanner managed to avoid Sideshow noticing him until they were almost there. He had promise.

When he showed up outside on a bench in the morning Ranger went out to speak to him himself.

”Howdy, Trace. I’m Michael Hunter.” He held out his hand, ”We don’t normally have folks waitin’ on the benches outside. How can I help y’?”

---

It had been a tough time for Rianne since the rip opened. When she had first found herself in a new universe with Raine she had nothing but the clothes on her back and the money in her wallet. Enough to get a room at an inexpensive hotel. She also had no identification that worked so she was forced to find work at somewhere that didn’t I-9 employees. This meant day-to-day job changes and payment in cash. Dishwashing, floor sweeping, and other menial labor jobs.

It felt wrong to her to be doing undocumented work, but when needs must. She wasn’t about to go stay in Tent-ville. Rianne had small periods of free time. She began to use it to search for herself in this reality. She couldn’t find a Jennifer Rianne Hunter anywhere. So she searched and found her parents. Deceased. They had also never moved to New York.

And they had a son, a Michael Ross Hunter.

Michael had the same parents, same birthday, born in the same hospital. She was a man here? Something must have really changed with that portal for her to be a man here.

Armed with a name Rianne dug further and found that Michael owned a security company in New York City. Blackforest Tactical. Her male self seemed to also be interested in protecting people, he just took a different route. Military to private sector security work. She decided she wanted to meet herself. See how life was different from just being born a boy.

That day she told Raine about her discovery and that she was going to head out to to Blackforest Tactical the next morning. It would be the last thing she’d do before heading back through the portal. It seemed that contact across it was established and people were being allowed to cross it. Rianne could go back home.

Once there she would need to check on if Raine was being hunted for and what had happened with Trace. Did they find him? Was he even still in that universe? Scraping enough cash to have a place to live had made looking for Trace difficult. And it was just enough cash to get by. Cheap hotel, thrift store clothes, cheapest food she could find. Maybe there was something to working in the in the private sector? Have a little more cash on hand. Though there was no way it could be as personally fulfilling could it?

Rianne woke up on the terrible bed and got up to get ready. You couldn’t look trashy when you met yourself, don’t want them thinking they’re the better you. It was a sad day when she realized no matter how many places she checked she would have zero luck finding a pair of second hand boots. She had to meet herself bootless. Thank goodness she carried her off duty pistol as a backup so she had something she could concealed carry. There was no way she could manage to fit her P226 into her outfit. Maybe in a big shoplifting bag, but that was far from optimal. Her white jeans gave her just enough room to stash an M&P shield with her dark sleeveless top covering the grip that poked up above the jeans.

”Time to go meet… Myself.” Rianne said standing at the door.

Raine had a whole new appreciation for undocumented workers and immigrants. Here where she too was an immigrant just trying to scrape through, she knew she'd been given some breaks she didn't deserve and still found it difficult to make ends meet. Even when Rianne and Raine pooled resources, it was spaghetti-o's and day old, discount bread. Heck, frozen veggies were out of the price range at this point because they'd needed more than one set of clothes.

Lorraine had done research on herself too. While she was disappointed to not be a man (a gender bent world would at least explain some of the crazy), she was more disappointed to find out the Raine here was a salacious crook. An old salacious crook caught up in litigation and mud slinging.

Today was the day that Rianne wanted to leave. Raine had come to trust the other woman. They weren't best friends, but they weren't catty and they'd worked together to make the best of their situation. Now Rianne was going to leave and Raine had to trust that the other woman wouldn't just forget her.

"Rianne, white jeans... is that really the message you want to send to yourself?"

Raine, in a bout of defiance, had purchased the most purposeful looking outfits that 25 cent teeshirt day could help her afford. The gravity girl had opted for ripped jeans and vintage tees and felt totally punk rock as a result. Rianne could make all the faces she wanted at her animal print kitten heels, they were the best thing that had happened to Raine in this universe. Besides, Raine wasn't expected to be at the corner diner to sweep and mop until after they'd closed. She could swap back to her blood-stained sneakers then. The shoes had cost her less than a plastic jar of "premium" soup. As it turned out, "premium" soup was still prepackaged soup and total waste of money that Raine was not going to fall for again.

"Okay. So." They were walking and so far Raine was not regretting her footwear choice. She wanted to control something and this was about as good as it got. "While you're gone, I'm going to stay in the hotel for as long as I can. If I find something better or safer, I'll leave you a message at the front desk, but it better be a good reason." Raine was nervous about keeping ahead of the costs, she wasn't the most practical spender, but she wasn't about to be homeless. "How will I know you're not in trouble over there? Should I wait 2 weeks and then assume you're not coming back if you don't make it by then?"

A cloud of pigeons took flight as the crossed out from the subway and into a less than reputable looking side of Brooklyn. The building in question looked nice enough. Everything else seemed like a crapshoot as far as legitimacy.

Trace watched as a man (that was not the same guy that was following him before) approached the bench that he was sitting on. Well, that meant that he'd either been seen before (which he hadn't really minded towards the end) or they had better surveillance than he'd thought. He hadn't seen any drones or anything of the sort, but then again, if they were doing it right he wouldn't. Well, either way, Trace had gotten precisely what he'd wanted. An audience with the king. A meeting with the president. A huddle with the head honcho. Michael Hunter was the CEO of BlacTac. Trace had found some low-key traces (haha) of information on the Internet that this guy was the real deal. He was not someone to be messed with.

Upon seeing him in person, however, Trace paled immediately. His mind raced back to that day. The day he'd blown a hole in the universe. He could remember every single instant of when it had happened. There had been lots of color. Trace was sure that he was going to die. Well, something worse than death. The very fabric that held his universe together had been pierced and severed. He'd come entirely apart. During this time, he'd seen people that he'd interacted with in the past. And he'd seen... Well, upon thinking about it, they'd all been fairly familiar. Almost as if they'd been the people he'd been near. Hell, at the time, he'd thought he was each of them for a moment.

This person had a massive truck. It was quite ridiculous. And Trace had seen him when he'd seen Rianne. That... both complicated and simplified things. They even shared a last name. That had to be a coincidence, didn't it?


”Howdy, Trace. I’m Michael Hunter.” He held out his hand, ”We don’t normally have folks waitin’ on the benches outside. How can I help y’?”

Trace stood quickly and shook Hunter's hand. The man had a heavy accent. Trace, being the smart alec that he was, had to try not to slip into that accent himself. No, that wouldn't be a good idea. "Well, Mr. Hunter, I'd like to inquire as to why you have someone following me." Trace said, plainly. No point in mincing words. Trace had a bit of a knack for reading people and this guy wasn't one for sugar coating or messing around. "And I'll be the first to tell you, it's been a long time since anyone's accused me of being 'normal' at this point..." Trace commented dryly. It was true.

The pair shook hands and Tanner went straight to business. He wanted to know why he was being followed. Straight to business, Ranger liked that. ”Y’ were a government agent in the other universe. I had someone test y’. I needed t’ see if y’ could notice a tail and then lose them. Remaining unnoticed until y’ were near here was what really impressed me. Chris is very good at his job. “

Getting to the point, ”Consider that y’r first interview. It was nice of y’ t’ show up f’r y’r second.”

When looking for most security personnel Ranger had nigh standards, but it was still fairly normal as far as the application process went. When looking for more specialized recruits or Alpha recruits he ran it more like selection. Treat them like mushrooms, the ones who are worth it will figure out what to do.

---

Raine called out her wearing white jeans. Rianne looked down at herself and replied jokingly, ”Yes. I know you’re jealous. It's okay.” She didn’t have the best clothes to choose from. Finding clothes in a thrift store that fit someone as muscular as her that were flattering wasn’t the easiest. Add to that no boots available and clothes shopping had been rough for her. Rianne hadn’t been willing to splurge for a pair of heels. When the wolves were at the door, Rianne buckled down and remained practical. It did help once she knew she could go home where she already owned many pairs. She wouldn’t be stuck without boots and heels working for crumbs.

While they were walking to the subway Riane talked about her plans to stay in the hotel as long as she could. Leaving a note if she left for somewhere else. Whether that was she couldn’t afford it anymore or found somewhere better and safer. Rianne had already decided to leave her taser with Raine. Sure Raine could float people but Rianne wanted her to have a defensive redundancy. She couldn’t leave one of her pistols, that could open a nasty can of legal worms if something happened, but thanks to the Caetano case electronic weapons were kosher.

”I’ll try to be back within a week if I can. If I haven’t made it back by two weeks…” She thought for a moment, ”If I haven’t made it back in two weeks something happened. Carry on as best you can, if I show up after than I can hunt you down.” A lot could happen after she made it back. The portal could close, she could get stuck dealing with an internal investigation, SUPER could roll her up after she starts looking into Raine’s status back home, or any other number of things. It was why she wanted to be back with information for Raine as soon as possible.

Rianne stood as they rode on the subway. She was wearing white pants. The seats were dirty. That would not be a pretty sight.

When they climbed back into daylight it was clear they were headed into a seedier part of Brooklyn. Approaching Blackforest Tactical one might think the neighborhood would start gentrifying. There was no way the building wasn’t going to be raising property values. A nice modern building with space around it before the garbage started.

”Private security must pay better than I thought.”. Rianne squinted her eyes and looked at bench near the building.”Is that… Trace!”

> ”Is that… Trace!”

Whatever Raine had been thinking about was shoved right out of her head. Rianne didn't even have to say where Trace was. He was standing right hecking there in front of the building they were headed to. Trace. The reason why Raine and Rianne had met, the reason why Raine was still alive, the guy that started it all.

And he was talking to a looming beefcake.

Their stances didn't look adversarial, exactly, but both seemed a bit defensive.

Without knowing anything about anything, Raine had already made up her mind.

She picked up the pace and walked with a longer gait so that her heels clacked on the pavement. One glance at Rianne and Raine went one way, Rianne was free to go the other. This was classic girl-pack tactics. One of their own was being threatened? Well, they had his back. Raine found a smile and stepped around the park bench in order to lean her arm up against Trace's shoulder. The nails on her other hand suddenly were just so interesting she had to look at them rather than the big dude who was way bigger up close and personal.

"Trace, is this guy bothering you?"

Trace nodded at the compliment. So he'd impressed Hunter with his skills. That was definitely a good start. Trace had been hoping that he could somehow maneuver this whole thing into a job opportunity. The next sentence made him realize that he'd had much more luck with that endeavor than even he'd imagined.

”Consider that y’r first interview. It was nice of y’ t’ show up f’r y’r second.”

Well, that was unexpected. Trace grinned and said "Well, if I'd known this was an interview I'd have dressed more accordingly" he said, nodding to his attire. Secret agents in the movies did a terrible job dressing to blend in. A three piece suit and bow tie really doesn't cut it when you're trying to blend in. A zip up hoodie, a pair of every day jeans and his faithful old Chuck Taylors were much more suited to the job. If you saw someone dressed like that, your eyes were just as likely to bounce right over them as they were to stick, even for a second.

Trace heard a noise in the background, the sound of heels clacking on pavement at a hurried pace. Must've been someone late for work. The building definitely said We're modern but we want people on time but Trace got the impression that things were all too practical to worry about the clock ruling the world. As long as things were getting done the way they were supposed to, all was likely right in the world. Of course, security assignments rarely held a normal schedule. They were the kind of job that required you to drop a significant portion of your life into the job.

Trace wasn't precisely unprepared (or at least he tried not to show it externally) when someone walked up and put their arm on his shoulder. He shot a glance to the side, ready to hit the pressure point up under the person's arm. He slammed a time bubble into place around himself, Hunter and the would-be assailant. His jaw went slack, however, when he realized exactly who it was that had put their arm on his shoulder.

"Trace, is this guy bothering you?"

Trace's heart skipped a beat. Zero?! She was alive! She'd made it!

Before Trace really knew what he was doing, he'd turned and scooped the girl up into a hug. He couldn't really help himself. He hadn't known what had happened to her after the moments preceding the rip. In fact, she'd been the last straw in the series of events that had lead to his break with SUPER. They were going to kill her. An innocent girl. She hadn't done anything other than save a bunch of lives. How dare she, right?

"You're alive! I can't believe it! You made it! How did you get here!?" he asked, chuckling when he realized he'd just verbally and physically blitzkrieg'ed the poor girl. He let the time bubble and the girl go, looking back at Hunter. Wow, what a way to start a second interview. He then noticed in the background Zero's companion. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her. Rianne had mirrored Raine, getting around behind his prospective employer, ready to intercede as needed. Oh man, this could be bad. What happened when a person from the other universe met their double? Could it cause another rupture? He caught her eye and nodded with a grin. It was too good to see her to worry about all of that. "Constable B." he said, trying not to embarrass her in front of Hunter. You didn't want your self to think of you as Barbie. That was a weird thought.

"Mr. Hunter, allow me to introduce a couple of friends from my side of the rip. This is Zero. And the woman in a tactical position behind you that I'm sure you've noticed by now is Officer Hunter. It's a long story, but I wasn't even sure either of them was alive." he said, cringing on the inside. What an interview.

”F’r what y’re interviewin’ for, y’re dressed accordnin’ly.” Ranger said. What he had in mind for Trace might require dressing up from time to time, but the day to day would be more casual, something that better blended into the background of the city.

Before Ranger could invite the man inside the sound of heels clicking away drew their attention. Ranger glanced in the direction and saw a pair of blond women fast approaching. The younger looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The pair of women split, with the younger approaching Trace and putting her arm on his shoulder.

"Trace, is this guy bothering you?"

Lori.

The woman looked and sounded like a young Lori. He hadn't seen her in years so it didn’t click right away, but it was unmistakable after she spoke. He mostly masked a look of surprise.

So young Lori and the other blond knew Trace, Ranger glanced to see where the other woman had gone and saw that the world around him rippled, and the woman was moving incredibly slowly beyond it. In that moment Trace had grabbed the woman in a hug. Ranger didn’t have to ask, Trace’s exclamations gave him a fair amount of context. He’d worried the younger blond had died.

Ranger heard movement as the other blond had returned to normal speed and fell into a position near him.

Rianne had never had the opportunity to see one of Trace’s time bubbles from the outside. Sure a few of the ripples had been similar, but it was weird to see trace blurring as he moved in the time she took a couple steps. After the bubble went away she took her position flanking… herself.

“Constable B.”

A slight smile crossed Rianne’s face, he couldn’t not use his nickname for her. Though it was strange he left off the Barbie. Maybe whatever his business was with her male version meant he didn’t want to call her Barbie. She decided to avoid calling him ‘Butt Fairy’ for the time being. That didn’t mean she didn’t mouth it while her male self was looking away.

"Mr. Hunter, allow me to introduce a couple of friends from my side of the rip. This is Zero. And the woman in a tactical position behind you that I'm sure you've noticed by now is Officer Hunter. It's a long story, but I wasn't even sure either of them was alive.

Young Lori was Zero, and Constable B was an officer. Both of the ladies were from Trace’s side of the rip and it they were having a reunion in the most unlikely of places. His business while he was interviewing Trace. Ranger turned to the officer and extended his hand, ”Nice to meet you Officer, I’m Michael.” His greeting of her first gave him the chance to shift his positioning so he didn’t have someone behind him.

”Rianne.” She said shaking his hand. It was a weird experience,shaking the hand of what was essentially yourself, but not yourself. Despite the difference in hand size they had an almost identical handshake. Rianne gave points to her male self for the quality handshake. His accent though, it surprised her. She had a little accent, but her male self almost sounded like he worked to have the thickest East Texas accent he could manage. That or he just never cared to adapt to New York City like she had.

”Nice t’ meet you.” He said before turning to shake Zero’s hand.

”Likewise.”

The curious thing was that unless the ladies had tracked down Trace, as he didn’t know they were alive, they had arrived for a different reason. And Rianne seemed to be studying Ranger. ”Why don’t we go inside, sit down in the conference room.” Let them have their reunion and then maybe use them as character references for Trace.

Raine did her best to look all kinds of dangerous and threatening and then Trace went and ruined it by squeezing her until she squeaked.

"Yeah. I'm really glad you're not dead too." Since he seemed to want a hug she turned and gave him the hug. Some people were huggers. They needed that reassurance. There was a lot to say here, but now didn't exactly seem like the most polite moment to say it. "Officer Hunter and I were both trying to find you when the world ripped open. She had me in cuffs." Raine smirked. From cuffs to roomies. They'd come along far enough... and now her roomie was leaving her. At least now, knowing Trace, she had one person who knew who she was here.

"I didn't expect to see you here, though. We came to find the Rianne of this world." Raine spared a glance at the man who was introducing himself to Raine's temporary roommate. She wanted to say that she could see it, but she just couldn't. Maybe if they'd both been wearing boots, she could? The ways that they stood, talked, and moved were all different. Rianne might have been an officer, but this guy was something scarier.

"He's a dude." She stage whispered to Trace, as if he couldn't tell. Also... had Rianne just mouthed the word "butt" at them?

Ughhhh. Right. Trace could only introduce her as Zero. She'd forgotten her totally fair and justified paranoia in not wanting to trust a G man with her name. "What are you doing here with Mr.--" Man-Ree-anne may have rhymed, but it was so not appropriate and not even how Rianne said her name. Raine adjusted on the fly. "Hunter?"

Then it was Raine's turn to shake mister scary man Hunter's hand. He didn't strangle her out, but the nickname 'iron hands' sprang to mind. Ow.

"A pleasure to meet you Mister Hunter." She knew how to be polite.

> ”Why don’t we go inside, sit down in the conference room.”

"Mr. Hunter, it's been a weird couple days. Can you tell me truthfully that your conference room isn't a trap and that you currently have no dealings with the agency our Mr. Trace, here, definitely quit?"

> "I promise y' it idn't a trap."

It wasn't the only thing she'd asked, but it was going to have to be enough. And now Trace had Rianne for back up and Rianne had Trace for back up. Raine had no compunctions about where she stood on the real scary scale. In fact, she hummed the Mission Impossible theme as they stepped through the nice shiny glass doors. Here's to hoping this wasn't a nest of SUPERs.

Trace rolled his eyes as Rianne mouthed 'butt fairy' at him but smiled at the same time. That nickname. It was all his fault, but did she always have to use it?

Trace then tensed as Michael Hunter extended his hand to Rianne Hunter. Hoo boy. Just going to jump right into that one, huh? Fortunately for the universe, everything didn't implode. Or explode. Or any kind of -plode. That was a definite plus. And it opened an entirely new can of worms.

Raine, after somewhat-awkwardly returning his hug, expressed that she was glad that he wasn't dead also. Trace managed to suppress a giggle when Raine mentioned Rianne having her in handcuffs. That was just inappropriate at a time like this.

"I didn't expect to see you here, though. We came to find the Rianne of this world." Ah. So they knew. And it was pure, cosmic coincidence. So maybe the universe wasn't too angry for getting a hole punched in it. That would be something. Raine made a rather overt stage whisper about Rianne's other half being a dude. Heh. "If you ask me, that answers a few questions..." Trace said, low enough that Rianne may or may not have heard. Who knew.

Michael Hunter (man, being specific like that was going to get tiring) then invited the whole group of them to come into his conference room. Trace's paranoid agent-brain questioned this invitation. Why would he invite the two women that just walked up? Well, I mean, guys had a lot of reasons to invite women places. But it didn't strike Trace as that kind of thing. If it was any other situation, money and... he'd call it 'romance' were huge factors in motivation. This, however, was business.

His agent brain also kicked forward another piece of information: Rianne was a mutant. That likely meant that Michael was a mutant. Or not. This universe may have had different rules on how that worked. But for sure, Michael didn't feel threatened enough to be even a little wary of the three of them combined. Raine was probably the least dangerous looking on there, but she had shown that she wasn't someone to be trifled with. Michael seemed to have the bearing of someone who was ex-military.

Raine rose to the occasion and questioned whether or not this whole situation (going to the conference room) was a trap. Michael responded as Trace shook his head and promised them that it wasn't a trap. Trace hadn't really been worried before, but Michael seemed like the type of guy that would keep his word. Besides, he was a prospective employer for Trace. It wouldn't server to kill him. "No need to worry. Mr. Hunter and I here were actually just discussing an employment opportunity." Trace explained. He gestured towards the doors in a 'ladies first' kind of manner, allowing the two women to go ahead. Texans were big on propriety on his side of the rip. Trace usually embraced good manners anyway.

Trace crossed into the building via the nice, shiny glass doors. Honestly, he was a little surprised. Maybe Texans in this universe were a bit less... Rustic than on the other side. The building was modern, open, and most definitely a front. There were many business operations going on. People went about their day to day business, talked on desk and cell phones. It had a very office-y feel to it. But everyone present seemed... Prepared. Not necessarily something you would notice if you weren't trained to look for it. Just casually ready. Trace would hate to see what happened to the person that came knocking on these doors looking for trouble.

They were lead to a conference room with a standard-issue brown conference table that seemed to find its way into every conference room. He could see himself reflected in the table top. So someone had an eye for detail. Trace selected a seat on the near side of the conference room table with a view of the door.

"So what did you have in mind for this interview?" Trace asked Michael, after the room had an opportunity to settle.

Ranger’s offer for everyone to go inside was met by Zero wanting an assurance that it wasn’t a trap and that he wasn’t dealing with the agency Trace worked for.

"I promise y' it idn't a trap."

In truth Ranger didn’t know what agency in specific that Trace worked for, he’d been able to piece together a rough idea of the type of agents they had. It was a sort of specialized CIA/NSA hybrid on steroids. Focused on domestic affairs, but exercising in covert operations.

Trace headed off anything else, "No need to worry. Mr. Hunter and I here were actually just discussing an employment opportunity." Ranger nodded, confirming it was the case. And it was quickly becoming a very strange second interview. Trace gestured for the ladies to go first, and Ranger caught the door. The guard at the front desk, Tedward, looked up before seeing it was Ranger returning and went back to his own business.

”Thank you.” Rianne said as she went through the door.

Ranger then led them down to the conference room. The office was busier that day than it had been in a while. Ranger had only recently returned from the hospital and the arrival of the rip had flooded them with business. It wasn’t only Ranger recruiting talent, his Bravo team leads and other Alpha members were recruiting more Bravo members to help cover the new clients Ranger had deemed worth taking on. Employment, logistics, and payment. The nitty gritty of business.

Again Ranger caught the door letting them all into a room with the obligatory long table with large. It looked like a normal conference or boardroom. Except for the walls lined with firearms. ”Yall grab a seat.” He let them grab a seat before sitting down.

Rianne took a long look at the walls before sitting down. Ranger guessed that as an officer she questioning what was his deal with displaying all these guns. Chambers shut. No flags, locks, or any indication they were not hot. Not to mention any of them could be just picked up and used.

"So what did you have in mind for this interview?"

”I hadn’t planned on us havin’ company durin’ the interview. Given the circumstances it idn’t a problem.” Ranger set his elbows on the table and brought his hands together. ”Y’ have skills, Trace. I’m gunna assume y’ did y’r homework and know we handle high end private security. The arrival of the rip has increased demand an’ I need more hands t’ meet it… Most of the jobs can be handled by more vanilla security. F’r the high rollers I need men of a higher caliber.” Normally this meant former special operations, but that meant his Alpha team was more equipped to handle direct action missions. Trace would give them greater investigative capability. Working for a NATO power meant there was some level of intelligence, but when operating for Haven they might not always have that. "I'm not gunna ask y' t' violate any laws state secrecy laws, but tell me a bit about what y' did on the other side of the rip."

Raine was so far out of her league and totally loving it.

Dun-NUH-NUH-NUHHHH Dun-NUH-NUH-NUHHHH dun DUN DUH.

The Mission Impossible theme was all internal, thankfully. If someone had access to her mental soundtrack they might notice her footfalls landing on the beat and in time, but nothing more to give away the fact that Raine thought this whole thing was so incredibly cloak and dagger. Heck. They even got ushered through the halls of what could pass for the set of a Bond movie and into a conference room slash gun rack.

She could get shot here. That sobering thought had Raine sitting delicately at the edge of her seat. Surely these guns were just for show...

"Sorry. I didn't expect to get invited in." She murmured under her breath to Trace as Mr. Hunter brought the class to attention. He said it wasn't a problem and the man just oozed genial attitude. Maybe it was easier to be nice when you were the boss. He sat and just the fact that he'd stopped looming over them made Raine feel a bit better. This newfound paranoia was tiresome.

> ”Y’ have skills, Trace."

Raine tried to split her focus between the men in the room, but really ended up watching Trace. He'd been built up a bit in her head as something like a hero. He'd worked for the bad guys, sure, but he'd realized it, said enough was enough, and beat a dude with all that moral fiber.

She was tempted to let Mr. Hunter know what all SUPER had been up to as far as she'd seen, but Raine hadn't even filled in Rianne about everything. She'd been trying to keep the fact that she was a vigilante out of things, especially since she was starting to feel like the vigilante life might not be for her. Even if the X's here were sort of popular. That wasn't the social coin she wanted to trade in.

A black haired boy came in with a couple cold bottles of water branded with the company name. He passed them out, all the while eyeing Raine like she might have stepped in something icky. She got her water bottle last and thanked him before he asked the big boss for a word outside. He looked awfully young to be security, but if he was carrying water bottles, he probably wasn't out in the field.

Trace settled back in his chair and listened to the older man speak. He glanced around the room, which just so happened to be lined from about mid way up the wall to nearly the ceiling with firearms. That definitely made an impression on the person sitting at the table. Trace was unaffected by the display. Oh sure, everyone of the firearms was locked, loaded and most likely ready to fire. But he could just as easily get ahold of any of them as anyone else. And he had his power to help.

Trace turned and gave Zero what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She'd expressed a bit of discomfort because she didn't realize she'd be invited in. Truthfully, Trace didn't realize they'd be invited in either, but he wasn't going to show hesitance or insecurity. Those things didn't belong in this type of job. He'd have to talk to her later and explain a few things. The only other time they'd really interacted, Trace wasn't being very 'agently'. Hugging a random woman that walked up wasn't very agently either. But hey, he was just glad she wasn't dead. Some allowances had to be made.

Ah. Now down to the real questions. What had Trace done on the other side of the rip?

"Well, Mr. Hunter, that's a bit of a loaded question... " Trace began, taking a breath. "On the other side, I was employed by the federal government as an Agent for a paramilitary black ops division of the CIA. There's a lot that I wish I could tell you, but, infosec was a big priority for them. I went through standard issue training through Langley and was selected for service because of my... Additional qualifications." Trace said referring to his mutant powers. Hunter had seen an example of those earlier.

"But... I can tell you that I have skills in reconnaissance, counter intelligence, combat and security. We were thoroughly instructed in anti-mutant tactics. SUPER was presented as a way to protect the little guy. People who didn't have powers and couldn't fight back. And that was partially true. I met these two on missions like that." Trace indicated Rianne and Zero with a nod. "But then I started looking deeper. I found out some things on missions that made me begin to question. I wasn't thrilled with what I found out." Trace explained, drawing a breath.

"There were rumors of mutants disappearing. Being experimented on. Being killed. Everything I was able to turn up indicated nothing. Not a peep. And in intelligence, that's as good a confirmation." Trace stated gravely. "Anyhow, I was on an op tailing someone" Trace skirted that topic "When Zero here helped me stop a really bad mutant from killing an entire classroom of people. SUPER's version of thanks involved a bullet in the back of her head. I couldn't stand for that. Not anymore." he let the story stop there. He didn't add the point about him causing the rip or anything about that. He'd been talking for a few minutes, so he stopped, waiting for more questions.

Trace answered Ranger’s question with a little more detail than he expected. For one, Trace gave up the name of the agency. Super. Normally Ranger would not approve of such a breach in OpSec, even for an agency you no longer worked for. Though, if what Trace said was true they would have shot Zero and he went rogue in response. Ranger decided who would have to withhold judgement for the time being.

Rianne was interested in Trace’s mentions of what happened with Raine. Or Zero as Trace called her. She had wound up in this universe as a result of her trying to find out what had happened. While it wasn’t information she could use to try and help him, it did corroborate what Raine had been saying. Though, the name Zero tickled a memory. She had heard it used as a name somewhere before but she couldn’t place it.

While Trace was talking Jude entered the room and passed out bottles of water. The bottles were branded with Blac-Tac labels. Ranger had found the idea silly, but he was aware he knew nothing about marketing so he’d gone along with it. His only request was that it didn’t taste like Bryan water. No one knew what he meant. He let it pass, no sense taking the time to explain how bad the municipal water was there.

Before Ranger could ask Trace another question Jude stopped him and asked to have a word outside, ”If y’ll excuse me a minute.” He said before raising from his chair and stepping outside with Jude. ”Yes?”



”And here I was worried about you, Trace, but you’ve already gone and found a job and everything.” Rianne said. Then abruptly changing subjects, ”I like his boots. Expensive pair of Luccheses.” She nodded in approval. It was good to know that the version of her in this universe had good taste in boots even if he happened to be a he.

Important things.

The Rianne of that universe was a guy who worked security and had money to just wear Lucchese boots as everyday wear. He kept walls of guns. Was the her of that universe some kind of Lord of War? Used the security as a cover for something nastier? He gave off the vibe of someone military. Maybe he used it as cover for being a mercenary? Though, being a mercenary is a legitimate business.Companies like Academi existed. Though they preferred the term Private Military Company to mercenary.

Raine's jaw didn't hit the conference table, but only because she had known a little of what Trace had to say. She also knew a little more than what he said out loud, but considering all that he had said already... maybe she should have feigned surprise? It should have been shocking news to learn that a government anything had been doing those things.

She didn't realize how much Trace had known and she'd also sort of hoped that he'd been a plant in the bad guy group from the start. A good guy just waiting to expose the bad guys for how bad they were. Instead, he was just uninformed. Trained to be bad, doing what he thought was right. That was somehow disappointing.

Raine swallowed hard when he got to the goatman killings. She'd helped, but she hadn't really gone through the details with Rianne. She definitely hadn't told the other woman in the room that she sometimes went by the name Zero, so of course he just had to drive that point home and say her vigilante name again. To make matters worse, somehow talking about a bullet in her brain seemed a poor choice of words while surrounded by an ark-load of guns.

> "...I couldn't stand for that. Not anymore."

The words 'not anymore' struck a chord in Raine. Just how complicit had he been before he decided to not let her get murdered? Was it that he couldn't see yet another innocent mutant get put down in front of him?

She opened her mouth to ask just how many people Trace had killed or seen killed, but Mr. Hunter shuffled out after the boy and closed the door behind them. That closed Rianne, Raine, and Trace together for a moment that they might not get again.

Rianne tried to fill the silence with talk of boots and that was great and all, but... "My name's Raine." She could set that much straight at least.