It was the oddest thing. Jorge had not expected to get a call like this. Sitting at the precinct, the man had just finished putting a fairly busy day behind him. Loads of paperwork, a number of eyewitness testimonies to take, and some newbies to give the lay of the land. It was, by far, not one of his busiest days, but it certainly ranked up there. He was happy, therefore, when he spotted the clocked and noted that it was nearly time to go home, back to Xavier’s, and back to the loving arms of his bride-to-be, Gemma Taylor.

But, as with all things one looks forward to, Jorge found himself drawn back into the world that he was trying to escape from. A mysterious caller had dropped a tip, stating that there was suspicious activity at a local, burned out factory. Several anti-mutant slurs had been freshly painted and a few mutants had been attacked in the area. Fearing a anti-mutant gang or mob was in the works, Jorge would be called out. It was five before he was done for the day -- meant that it still counted towards his work day. But he was here to protect and serve, and serve he shall.

After quickly informing his colleagues that he was heading out to investigate the matter, Jorge excused himself from the precinct and climbed into his car. The paper cup with the plastic top that he carried with him was set inside the cupholder but it hardly seemed necessary at this point. The coffee inside and long ago gone cold, leaving risk of a coffee burn at nonexistent. He had accidentally allowed his coffee to go too long without drinking again.

Oh well. One of these days he will have a fresh cup, he was sure of it.

Once in the car, he slipped his keys into the ignition, revved the engine of the police issued vehicle, and pulled out of the parking space and into the street. Before long, the detective was en route to the scene, taking his time as there didn’t really need to be a press for time. Truth was that the anti-mutant slurs were definitely a probably but it wasn’t likely that anyone was still there. Still, he wouldn’t treat the incident like a cat up a tree. There was always a chance that someone was there so he needed to tread cautiously.

Quietly the detective hummed along with a song on the radio, some nameless pop tune that he would never admit to finding catchy in the first place. When he had arrived at his destination, the man was quick to turn off the radio, unbuckle his belt, and step out into the cool, evening air.

Just one glance and, yeah, he had to voice the only thought that popped into his head…

”Creep city,” he muttered. Adjusting his leather jacket, Jorge took a calming breath as he surveyed the scene and then made his way forward.

So it wasn’t like the detective was expecting someplace fancy when he answered this call, but it definitely was not the best looking of places. Rather the rundown warehouse looked exactly like what “the bad side of the tracks” was supposed to look like. The husky of a building was massive, blackened out over various parts, and smelled of sewage, charcoal and standing water. He remember a year ago when this warehouse caught fire. Some hapless mutant had lost control of their abilities and damn near brought this this entire sector of the city. But, thankfully, the mutant’s powers managed to be contained to this area, but not without significant property losses.

Jorge eyed the “MUTIE” slurs spray painted on the greasy walls. It made sense that an anti-mutant gang would set up shop here. Several workers had been lost in this fire, not to mention city workers who had come in to try and stop it by regular means. Families were left behind, shattered by the experience, and now were struggling to pick up the pieces. It was almost the perfect recipe to start up some hate group, wasn’t it?

Shaking his head, Jorge moved past the hastily painted slurs and deeper into the building. There was a small part of him that nagged him, willing him to go back to his car and call for some back-up, but the more logical side of him felt like it was overkill. There was no way that this was anything more than just a simple, empty building.

So, moving deeper into the facility, Jorge kept his eyes open as he peered at the dark and dank corners. It certainly didn’t smell nice in here but other than that, he really couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary aside from those slurs and a few discarded bottles of beer that were, at most, a week old. He shook his head. There wasn’t anyone here now and the deeper he traveled into the building, the more likely that it became that he was just chasing ghosts.

Jorge stopped as he reached shadowy room that was completely abandoned. Still there was nothing. So, pulling out his phone he immediately dialed the precinct.

”Yeah, this is Detective Cervantes responding to the 10-50 out in the industrial district. I don’t really see anything here,” he explained. ”Just make a note to keep this address on the watch list for anti-mutant activities.”

”10-4.”

He sighed, hanging up the line. He needed to get out of here. He was certain that the stale scents were beginning to mix in an incredibly wrong way. However, just as the detective turned to leave, he stopped. At first he didn’t know why, he didn’t see or hear anything suspicious, but it wasn’t suspicious activity that stopped him. It was something different.

The water. He could sense the watery form of something a floor below him, in the loading areas. However, this wasn’t some transient sleeping or stuck in a hiding place. Rather, this person was standing perfectly still...in the center of a room...and was looking up, through the floor, directly at him.

”...the ****?”

Jorge got scared from time to time. It was just a natural part of being a human. Yes, he was a mutant, and a fairly powerful one at that in some circles, but at the end of the day he was still a human being and suffered all the same pitfalls, insecurities, and fears that anyone can suffer -- especially when it comes to the unknown. When he saw the presence of another individual, standing in the middle of a massive room below him and just looking up, it was hard for his skin to not immediately start crawling. It was like something out of a horror movie. He could try to convince himself that it was just a trick, that maybe someone was just looking upward. But as he took a few steps away from that spot, it was damn near impossible to not notice the other’s head following his movements.

The hell was going on?

Not wanting to risk calling this in in case it was a hostile and he didn’t want to give away his position, Jorge pulled his handgun from his holster and tiptoed across the floor, made his way to the nearby stairwell. He turned but he could see that the other form was still following him, no matter how silent his footfalls were. Really, who was this person? Again that feeling crept across his spine to call for help but stubbornness stayed his hand. He was both an X-Man and a police officer. He wouldn’t be intimidated.

Making his way down to the lower level, Jorge was just about to reach the landing when a massive burst echoed like thunder in the air. The detective winced, trying to unclog his ears, but as he turned back, he found that his water senses were not completely unreliable. The sound of rushing water hit his ears and he realized that several pipes must have burst at the same time, causing the sprinkler system to go off. He winced, trying to ignore the sight of all the splashing water and focus in on his target but, again, it proved to be fruitless. The hell?

He stepped onto the bottom step, the sensation of water falling all around him. It was almost comforting, actually as this was his more basic element. He held sway over water like no other person and felt assured that if something happened, he would be able to protect himself. So, with a bit more confidence the detective stepped into the loading dock, gun up and pointed as he checked his corners and all areas. He couldn’t immediately sense the other’s location, but damn it, he knew that they were here.

”Hello?” he called. ”This is the N.Y.P.D.! Are you in distress?” If whoever it was could see him anyways, by play around?

Silence at first. Jorge stared into the darkness, only seeing and feeling water as it poured all around him. But, through the torrent of liquid he heard one other thing. It was faint at first, practically unheard if not listened for carefully enough. But as he did zero in on it, taking wet, cautious steps forward, it became all the clearer. It was laughter.

”Hehehehe…” the voice was low, rumbling, and strangely familiar. ”I’m absolutely perfect, ‘officer’” The word was said with such disdain. ”But we need to have a talk.”

Jorge turned, his gun still aimed, and that was when he saw him. The man was tall, about Jorge’s height, wearing all black. Black tactical pants with a sweater and tactical vest. Over his face he wore a ski mask with only the eyes cut out, leaving him a vague shape in the darkness. Jorge wanted a better look at him but the coursing water that poured in from all sides was making it too hard to not be distracted. The other, maybe a mercenary by the looks of him, only continued to stand perfectly still, no weapons in his hands and yet he carried with him an air of such confidence that the detective wanted to vomit.

He narrowed his eyes, his gun still trained on the individual. He wasn’t armed but something told him that that didn’t make the other any less dangerous. His feet planted in spot, Jorge continued to watch the other, cast a glance to the left and right to ensure that no ambushes were in the making. So far there was nothing that he could tell but really that seemed pointless considering how much water was pouring out of the sprinklers.

The other was laughing, saying that he wanted to talk. The detective wasn’t about to outright believe that but he wasn’t going to gun someone down in cold blood either. So he had to play this safe and, still trained on the mercenary, he spoke firmly and with authority.

”Were you the one who called in the tip?” he asked. ”There are easier ways to arrange a meeting. That, you know, don’t require you breaking the law.”

The other snickered and shrugged his shoulders. ”Can’t blame me for wanting to be a little theatrical. After all, look who I wanted to speak with? The great, Jorge Cervantes.” With a click of his tongue the other continued. ”One of N.Y.P.D.’s most finest. A member of the X-Men as well,” he chuckled. ”And so powerful he could probably summon a goddamns tsunami if he wanted to.”

Jorge narrowed his eyes, gun still held at the ready. Water continued to pour on him and he started to wonder, exactly how much water was in this goddamn sprinkler system? It should have drained out after a few seconds! It’s been minutes now!

”You’re quite the flatterer,” Jorge said. The other started to pace so Jorge followed him with his eyes. ”However you have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You seem to know an awful lot about me. But...I have no ****ing clue who you are.”

The other winced and tutted at Jorge. ”Tsk, tsk, you really should watch that language, Super Cop,” he teased. ”You are a role model, after all.”

Jorge was getting irritated. The other flaunted like he knew Jorge’s deepest, darkest secrets when a quick Oogle search would have brought up all of this. So, instead, he tried to push past the disturbing familiarity of the other and just focus on what he wanted. He hadn’t attacked yet but as the mercenary started to pace, the inkling grew that a swift attack was on the horizon.

”Why don’t we cut the B.S.?” Jorge said, abbreviating as a tease for not cursing. ”What do you want? I’m hardly impressed by information you got from a search engine.”

A scoff. ”Unimpressed, huh?” A sigh and he continued to pace, his hands at his hips but not showing any weaponry. ”Tell me, how go the wedding plans between you and that adapted, Ms. Taylor? Your adopted brat of a child, Chase, taking it well?” He smirked. ”And how about that sweet and tender little niece of your’s, Marisol? She enjoying dance school?”

He didn’t need to hear it. He felt the snap in his mind as the switch suddenly changed from caution to all out anger. Whoever this man was, without saying it, had threatened the only people that Jorge ever cared about in this world. That meant he needed to act. Gun drawn and lifted high, the detective clenched his jaw as he kept a bead firmly on the unarmed man across from him. Just one excuse, any excuse, and the detective would feel fully justified in taking down a threat to his family. Hell, in the briefest of moments, the man almost felt compelled to lie and say the man came at him with a knife. Really, there was no one around to say otherwise.

But now. He was better than that and he knew it. So, keeping his fears in check, the detective merely continued to follow the pacing man, still almost begging him for an excuse. Still, he had to wonder, exactly how much this man knew? And what did he want? Simple questions but would he get straightforward answers? His mind raced to figure this out as he continued to eye the other warily. He as done being cute about this.

”Seems I’m a popular topic for you,” Jorge tried to take the emotion out of his voice but it was clear that the mercenary had gotten to him. ”Let me guess: mafia? Anti-mutants group? Who’s paying you to research me?”

That damn laughter. There was something so cutting and degrading about it, as if the mercenary was some cruel teacher speaking down to an exceptionally stupid child. He antagonist just continued to chuckle to himself, shaking his head as he placed his hands on his hips. When he finally did stop, he turned, facing Jorge, still making no move towards him. Rather he just stood there and sighed, shaking his head.

”And here I thought you were the smart one,” the mercenary said. ”No one paid me to do anything.” A sigh. ”I’m actually doing this completely of my own free will. Simply because, the second I heard about you, I had to see it with my own eyes. And, I have to tell you, I’m pretty disappointed in you…Detective Cervantes.”

Teeth ground so hard Jorge felt he jaw would pop off track. But keeping his composure to the best of his ability, he snarled. ”Who the **** are you?”

A scoff. ”Just call me…Poseidon...”

Jorge was going to scoff. He was going to dismiss the idiotic, supervillain-esque name the second he heard it. After all, this was New York City and if you heard one egomaniacal speech, you’ve heard them all. The detective was no stranger to it and it was to the point where he normally would have shot back some witty comment mocking the other for his choice in moniker. But two factors prevented him from stating such: 1.) the man was making a show of knowing everyone in Jorge’s close circle of family (an obvious threat), and 2.) the mercenary made a move. Jorge saw that flick of his wrist and immediately raised his gun, ready to issue him one final warning but his voice would fall dead in his throat.

The water. He saw it with his senses but it move too fast for him to really comprehend what was happening. A tendril of liquid lashed out from the water pooling around his feet. The whiplike vine of liquid snapped painfully across Jorge’s hand, causing him to immediately drop his aim, releasing a shot into the concrete ground. Another whiplash wrapped around the smoking barrel and the gun was forcefully pulled from his hand. He didn’t have any more time to think.

Hands reached out to his sides, summoning the water around him into a large, globular shield. The tendrils the other commanded were knocked away and absorbed into the swirling waters -- but only for a moment. As Jorge controlled the wall of liquid, he noted that some of it began to resist him, almost swayed in another direction. It was then that he felt the water bulge as part of it burst out, painfully shooting against him like water from a high-powered hose. Jorge growled, feeling his skin reddening through his clothing and quickly turned, sending the wave of water crashing off to the side.

For a few, brief moments, he had no idea what was going on. He felt as if he had lost control of his abilities but as he locked eyes with the cackling, masked man across from him, it began to settle in that it wasn’t his powers that were out of whack, it was the influence of the mercenary. He was controlling the water too. Jorge had never run across another water manipulator before and, now that he had, his was quickly trying to come up with something, anything that would even the odds.

The mercenary, however, grinned under his mask. A chuckle fell from his lips as he continued to pace. Raising his hands, a clear ring of water could be seen undulating around each wrist, a similar effect that Jorge possessed whenever he used his own abilities. And, while Jorge was too dumbstruck for words, the other was more than happy to continue talking.

”What’s wrong, Super Cop? You seem a bit stunned,” he mocked. ”Did you think you were the only one who could move the elements? Did you think only you had the gifts of a god?” His voice raised and suddenly both arms were jutted forward. A wall of water formed, complete with spikes that skimmed across the surface, aimed directly for him.

Jorge, snarling, reached out to the water around him, forming two, massive hands of floating liquid. Clapping both hands forward, the water gauntlets responded in kind, slamming into the wall of water, smashing it into a fine spray of mist. But the mercenary wasn’t stopped. Rather he seemed to anticipate this as, from the mist, several lances of water cut through the spray, flying towards the detective like javelins.

Jorge cursed, leaping out of the way, rolling across the water, but came to a sudden stop when an octopus-shaped tendril of water suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him up. Without thinking, Jorge reached out with his free hand, summoning water from the ground and forming it into a thick claymore he had seen on some fantasy movie Chase watched the other day. With a quick swipe with his “blade” the watery limb dispersed, causing the detective to fall, landing on both feet.

Poseidon only chuckled. ”Impressive. A little raw. So much potential though,” he teased. ”Let’s have a little fun, shall we?” Another burst of water was sent towards the detective but instead of there being a projectile following, the man himself closed the gap.

It must have been a poetic and strangely beautiful scene for anyone to walk in on. As Poseidon engaged Jorge, the two immediately fell into a give and take of punches, kicks, and grapples. All of this was only accentuated by the fact that water continued to splash and form into various offensive and defensive shapes as the two tangled. At one point, several spikes of water jutted up from the ground, to which Jorge responded by created pillar to climb safely above before leaping off to land behind his attacker. Oh it was indeed a lovely sight, watching as the two clash, each landing a hit before the other retaliated in an equally magnificent manner.

A stalemate. That’s what this was. It was the answer to the proverbial question of what happens when an immovable object meets one that can move anything. This was not merely man versus man, this was a clash of titans.

Jorge ducked, swooping out of several quick punches, before he lashed out, driving his knee into the other’s side. There was satisfaction in hearing a painful grunt from Poseidon’s masked face and another would come when Jorge followed through with a firm punch directly into the side of the man’s jaw.

Poseidon grunted, stumbling off to the side, away from the detective. He fell down onto all fours, taking a moment to catch his breath. Most would have assumed that a yield would come, but all that issued from the mercenary’s lips was a firm and mocking chuckle. Shaking his head, he carefully climbed to his two feet, rolling his neck and reaching up to where Jorge’s fist had connected with his jaw.

Still grinning, he sighed. ”Wow, you are impressive,” he said. ”You have me impressed.”

Jorge narrowed his eyes, still in his boxer’s position, ready for another round. He was getting tired, he could feel the quiver in his muscles, but he wasn’t going to back down if he perceived a threat to his family. ”Funny. That means little coming from a *itch.”

Poseidon laughed and clapped his hands together. ”Hah! And so crude too. Unfortunately, I’m afraid that our time is up. Clearly we are at a stalemate...well...so long as I keep thumbing down my powers so that you can keep up.”

”Excuse me?”

Another shake of his head. ”You don’t think this is my A game, do you?” Poseidon tsked the detective with a waggle of his finger. ”Come on, Super Cop. If I really wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.”

Jorge rolled his eyes. ”As delusional as you are, you are not a god, ‘Poseidon’,” he clarified. ”You’re just a man. A man in control of his abilities. Just like me.”

Poseidon lifted his head. He stared at Jorge for the longest time, almost as if he were trying to decide the best way to proceed. Jorge could feel the other’s penetrating gaze as he glared at him from beneath his mask. And it was then that he felt it, the swirl of the water around him. Not just a few bits here and there, but every single drop of water, even the sweat that dotted Jorge’s forehead began to move towards the mercenary.

”See?” Poseidon started. The playfulness was gone from his voice. ”That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not in ‘control’ of my abilities. I’ve mastered mine.”

Jorge barely saw the burst coming.

Ever watch a movie where it’s raining and through the efforts of visual effects magic the scene just stops, allowing the viewer to see every single drop of water? It was like that, only this wasn’t a special effect, this was real. Every drop of water in the room, ever last ounce of liquid paused in mid-air around the self-proclaimed god before it suddenly all burst forward in a single direction. That single direction just happened to have Jorge directly in front of it.

Jorge barely got the curse out of his lips as he raised his arms to turn and shield his face. The water hit him from a thousand different directions at once, each one ranging in feeling from a bee sting or a high-powered water hose. Water was everywhere, striking him with such a unified force that the detective was blown clear off of his feet and sent colliding back into a far wall at least twenty feet away. Had the man not partially turned while being blasted back, he very well could have heard the sound of his lower spine snapping, rather than the crack of his shoulder.

He fell, like a sack of potatoes, onto the ground. Jorge knew his shoulder was broken, he could easily feel the fact that it wasn’t right anymore. And despite the fact that he faced extreme danger, the man wouldn’t couldn’t move. He couldn’t get his feet to plant under him and lift him up from the ground. Instead he just laid there, struggling to regain his senses. But one thing was apparent, thundering in the man’s years despite confusion and pain, it was the sound of footsteps steadily approaching.

More of that mocking tutted filled the air as Poseidon advanced. With a disappointed sigh, the mercenary stopped short of the detective and knelt down. Arms resting on his knees, Poseidon just shook his head.

”I could kill you right now. Would be easy,” he snapped his fingers. ”But that would be like needlessly smashing a mirror. Look at you. What can you do to me? You’re just...a really poor reflection of something far better.” Reaching down, he grabbed Jorge, forcing him to sit up, despite the pain that radiated in his shoulder. ”But I’m still going to give you a chance,” he said, adjusting Jorge’s jacket. ”Oooh, nice jacket. Anyways, this is your one chance, Detective. If your not with my people, with mutants, then...I’m afraid that things will not end pleasantly for you. Got it?”

There was another smirk. Poseidon stood up, wringing water from his clothing as he straightened up his posture. With a roll of his neck, he turned to walk away from Jorge, but stopped a few feet from him.

”And before you get all blustery and bold, I don’t just mean you will hurt.” he threatened. ”Gemma. Chase. Marisol. I will personally put a bullet in-between each and every single one of their eyes.” Even if Jorge couldn’t see it, he could feel the malevolent grin and curled his lips. ”Do we understand each other?”

Much like before, Jorge felt that surge of adrenaline. Even if he was in pain and humiliated, the detective was not one to be taken lightly. Threaten him all you want, it wasn’t something he hadn’t heard before. But threaten his family and the man easily turned into a raging bull who could only see red. His blood pounding throughout his body, the detective snarled as he moved onto his feet. One arm hanging limply to his side, took several steps towards the exiting villain before he broke into a run. He charged Poseidon but he wasn’t going to foolishly just tackle him to the ground. Instead he would show him what he could do with his powers.

Flesh melted away, turning transparent and liquified. Soon enough the detective vanished leaving only a tower, hulking beast of pure liquid that surged towards the mercenary. Massive fists raised, ready to drill the villain into the ground like a railroad spike. But, before he could deliver the blow, the man-god suddenly turned, running both hands into Jorge’ liquid body.

Immediately Jorge lost all control. His body was frozen in a state of attack, arms raised to strike, water swirling and dripping about him. But Jorge couldn’t move. He couldn’t will his limbs to make a single hit. Even in his most powerful form, it seemed to be completely absent of his control -- but it soon became apparent who did possess it.

Poseidon shook his head. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead he just stared into the humanoid face of the water beast that had barreled down towards him. His hand embedded deep in the other’s body he started to separate them, pulling them away from each other. It seemed to be meeting some resistance but the man continued to pull.

At this same time, Jorge’s body exploded with pain. He was being ripped apart -- literally.

Pain can cause seconds to feel like hours and this was utter agony. Then, with a sudden swipe, both Poseidon’s arms flew outwards to the sides, separating and causing Jorge’s watery form to disperse, ripped around unseen seams and sent flying into all corners of the room. Poseidon sighed, drying off his hands as he looked about the room.

”That’s what happens when you’re reckless, detective.” His eyes drifted across the room. ”When you pull yourself together, I want you to remember something, okay?”

Jorge could barely make sense of anything. This was a sensation he never thought he would feel again. When he had fallen into the oceans those years ago and dispersed to save his life, it had been done by choice. Now he was literally ripped apart and the pain and overflow of information was nearly too much for his mind to handle. Jorge drifted, droplets of water trying to reconnect but mixing with the water that had already filled the room. In this state of agony, Jorge tried to focus, tried keep Poseidon in his line of sight but it grew more and more difficult -- even when Poseidon removed his mask.

Would he remember that face later on? Would he remember seeing a doppleganger, a mirror image of himself standing in tactical gear in a room full of water? Would he remember that he was bested by someone who looked exactly like him? Only time would tell. What he would remember were his final words.

”Stay out of my way.” The sound of exiting footsteps filled his hearing and, like that, the drifting particles of Jorge Cervantes, fell into a slumber.