The air was damp and cold, the darkness of the night pressing in upon the scarlet-skinned narcissist. It wasn't the first time he would do business at such an odd hour-- and it would not be the last. Much to his chagrin, Khalil often worked in the shadows, surreptitiously setting buildings ablaze, or making opponents go bye-bye with a silencer and a small piece of metal.

Tonight was different, though the familiar weight of a gun was still tucked between his stomach and the hem of his pants. Rather than staging some sort of coup, he was delivering ambrosia to a dealer. And rather than working alone, he had company. His sheet of black hair had been fastened into a ponytail, and his outfit was mild enough-- jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket. All black, all fitted.

He knew better than to question Poseidon's directive, though he was not above reminding the boss that his specialty was destorying evidence-- not making deals.

"We have a handful of new additions," Poseidon had said dismissively, "And this particular recruit needs a little more training. See to it that you teach him properly."

The two of them strode down the street, not necessarily in the nicest part of town. Most businesses, having closed for the night, had grates or sliding metal doors pulled tightly over their entrances and locked. Just the fact that they were out at this hour, was questionable.

"This your first run?" Khalil asked casually. They hadn't spoken much thus far. Most people were none too pleased to work with the narcissist, and thus gave him very little leeway conversationally, "Or have you gone on other runs before?"

By 'runs', he meant running errands for Poseidon, of course. Neither of them were running. They were walking. Briskly.

While Jay was no stranger to being out late, this night was a bit different; he wasn't out for a pleasurable evening stroll, nor was he on his way home after a gig. Tonight, the work was just beginning, as he was walking down the street, his black jacket zipped tight, his blue jeans without a single rip, and his white sneakers topped off the outfit. His keener hearing and smell took in the sounds and smells of the night-life, the more shady side of the city. A side the canine-shifter knew all too well, though now it wasn't for his own amusement anymore.

He looked to the red-skinned mutant next to him as the relative silence between them was broken. Jay wasn't silent on purpose, he just wasn't really good at breaking the ice with another dude. Not really his preference. "Yep, this is honestly my first official job since I was recruited," he said with a chuckle. That was why he was quiet.

He was taking in everything; he didn't want to **** this up, as Poseidon didn't seem the type who took well to failure. And from what he gathered from their first meeting, 'no' probably wasn't a word that the boss took kindly. So this struck him as a time to keep his eyes open and his big mouth shut.

The city was prepared for the more shady dealings of the night; windows barred, doors locked tight, that sort of thing. The only difference now was that he wasn't doing this sort of thing independently anymore.

"Though, really my recruitment was pure luck," he said, trying to make conversation. Though he wasn't sure if it was good or bad luck that contributed to this. "I was busting up a dog fighting ring. Just so happened Poseidon was busting up an M operation in the same building....we kinda met in the middle. Literally"

A rookie. Greeeeat. Khalil smiled, and gave an unconvincing "hm" with a smile. Poseidon had tasked him with an errand that was outside of his expertise, with a partner who hadn't really been formally assessed by the Syndicate yet. Just great. How wonderful. Fantastic.

Because this guy... whatever his name was... was new, Khalil felt comfortable giving him the rundown.

"I'll handle the talking," Khalil said quickly, "And when we're dealing with these *ssholes, call me 'Red'. And I'll call you-"

Khalil flapped his hand. He hadn't caught the guy's name.

"These guys are potential dealers, and Poseidon wants us to collect from 'm, okay?" Khalil explained, "They make good on their end of the deal, we have another source of income, everyone's happy."

His voice was soft. Even though the streets were empty, or seemed empty, he didn't want to take any chances.

The guy said something about being "lucky" for being recruited. At some point, Khalil had thought himself "lucky" too-- he had shelter, a creative outlet where he could let the flames run wild. But now? Now... f**k, he didn't know. But it sure a.f. didn't feel lucky. But dissent for a gang to which you belonged wasn't exactly smiled upon.

"Luck~y," Khalil echoed, smiling faintly. He didn't sound convinced.

Jay nodded as his acquaintance..."Red" spoke. Okay so they were making not so obvious nicknames? Jay could play that game too. "Just call me Wild Dog, then," he answered, realizing they'd never actually exchanged, but Red and Wild Dog would just have to do.

He listened as Red spoke, taking in the other mutants' instructions. He seemed sort of...jaded or something, but it wasn't Jay's place to say anything about it. After all, he was still just the new guy, and didn't have any sort of pull. Besides, he knew Red was the one with the experience, and both men were more than okay with him taking the lead.

He let the comment slide, after all, he was thinking that he was lucky in that Poseidon didn't just waste him too, but he wasn't about to say that out loud. Sure, Jay was just feeling things out right now. It seemed as though he'd fit in here, but the fact of the matter was, he really didn't have much choice.

"Sounds straightforward enough," he said after a moment, adjusting the gym bag on his shoulder as he walked.

Khalil smiled and nodded. Wild Dog. Sure, he could do that. Street names made things a lot more official-feeling. Khalil skimmed their surroundings with his amber eyes, scouring their surroundings for street signs. Ah-- here it was. Khalil fished his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and opened a messaging app.

*click*

He sent the picture to the street-sign to their contact, and waited, quietly exchanging a glance with his cohort. If everything was in the clear, they'd send their whereabouts to the two of them.

Khalil's breath came out in small puffs, waiting for his phone to buzz.

*buzz*

"Ah, there we go."

Directions from the street corner, to where they'd make the exchange. And a request for how many of them would be coming.

Khalil texted back that there was two of them, and repocketed their phone.

"We're in," he announced, "Come on."

The silence that followed was almost unnerving. Almost; Jay'd been in some less-than-legal activities before, though it was usually the basic theft, breaking and entering, that sort of thing. So he wasn't quite as unsettled as someone else might have been. After all, he had an ace in the hole that most people couldn't say they had.

He took in the sights and sounds of the city's night-life, though still watching as Red did most of the work. He was alert, that was obvious. When his partner finally spoke, he looked over with a nod, his arms folded across his chest. There wasn't much he could say; he was just there to learn the ropes, after all. 

He followed, still silent, the little hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as they drew closer. Okay, so maybe he was a little bit on edge, but that was to be expected, right? He wasn't tense, or obviously frazzled in any way, but he had this strange feeling in the pit of his gut.

Khalil slid the phone back into his pocket, and started back down the street. Banks of low-lying fog were rolling down the street off of the nearby waterfront, which came into view as they progressed. They were heading towards the docks and, in the distance, a faintly pulsating bass. A humanoid stood silhouetted beneath an orange-ish lamp. His eyes looked like nebulae, and yet Khalil could tell the guy was looking at the two men.

He grunted wordlessly, and gestured for the two men to step inside. Something about the doorman's mutation must have advised him of the identities of the two men. Khalil crossed the threshold first.

Contrary to the industrial exterior, the inside was decidedly more done-up. Valances were draped from the high cielings, light fixtures illuminating the room. Music with a heavy bass-line permeated the room, and various people milled amongst card tables and dance floors and from bar-to-bar. This was the spot.

"Now we just need to find our connection," Khalil announced, "Stay close."

Jay was used to shady situations, but it was usually just him, and never really anything so....organized. However, as they neared the docks, his keen hearing picked up the familiar sound of a pulsing bass. It wasn't live, but either way it struck him as out of place. Then, he saw the figure under the light, and before he knew it, he was walking through a door behind his new acquaintance.

The inside of the place was much different from what the outside suggested. Honestly though, the inside made him feel more comfortable; this setting was more his forte, after all. Though this was still business, not pleasure.

"Got it," Jay answered, looking around, surveying his surroundings. It was important to survey exits, room layout, that sort of thing, even when not up to trouble. He stayed close to Red, though he wasn't as nervous or tense as he had been.

Khalil was scoping the scene, too, high as well as low. The open ceilings worked to his advantage. The valances would catch fire nicely, if need be… but the exits seemed limited, and that was concerning. Any potential entrance it exit had security, and there was even some in the catwalks. Khalil harrumphed, and slinked towards the bar. Nowhere in his instructions had Poseidon said that alcohol was off limits. And a buzz would make this errand at least somewhat enjoyable.

“Something fruity and full of regret, please,” Khalil purred at the bartender, a young woman who wasn't wearing nearly enough, in all the right ways. Feline eyes slid towards the blond in-tow, “Anything for you, Wild Dog? My treat…”

Soon enough, beverages were acquired, and the two Syndicate flunkies found their way to a table off in one darkened corner. Khalil sat with his back to the wall, so that he could watch for their connection. He clasped the highball with his fingertips, surveying the neon liquid before taking a swig.

“Mmm, just what the doctor ordered.”

Yeah, it was going to be pretty tricky if things were to get hairy, though he hoped they wouldn't. He knew they could probably handle it, but he didn't want to test his luck. And then Red was making his way to one of the bars; this was Jay's kind of guy.

"You mean besides her?" he answered slyly, slightly teasing as he gave the bartender a mischievous wink, a charming gleam in his eye. "Same thing," he said seriously after a moment, but not before shooting the young lady another hopeful glance. The closest thing he could get to the puppy dog eyes without actually using his mutation.

Sitting across from his cohort, Jay too kept an eye out, but he was more focused on trying to filter out the different sounds and smells. He was mostly trying to filter through the constant buzzing of nearby conversation hidden under the thumping bass. It was by no means foolproof, but he could pick out the occasional choice word if need be.

He took a sip of his drink. Not bad.

Very little was said in response to Wild Dog's remark. The bartender smirked, Khalil shrugged and let his companion have his fun, and that was that. It was probably all a ploy to get better tips, anyways. Milk the thirsty patrons for everything they had. That kind of thing. And Khalil, who was very prone to flirting when he wasn't on the job (and sometimes, when he was on the job) wasn't about to tell his friend how to live his life. Khalil couldn't distinguish between the sundry of smells and sounds. His eyes did most of the work, flicking between faces in the crowd.

Even in their short time on this side of the Rift, Poseidon had been making quite the reputation for the Syndicate. If everyone on the filthy criminal underbelly didn't know Poseidon and his associates already, they knew of them. Some people liked them, others merely collaborated with them-- and there were those that hated them. Such was the nature of holding power.

Khalil caught the eye of a Latino dude with toussled hair. Hm? Why was he looking this way? Was he a connection. Khalil's free hand slipped over the handle of his gun. The Latino dude looked away. Maybe it was a coincidence. Khalil continued looking. Someone else met his gaze, a girl with a shaved head, quite the chest, and chiseled arms. She had a really nice bone structure.

Khalil raised the highball to his lips, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down. The woman got up. The demon pointedly cleared his throat, gaze flicking towards Wild Dog before back towards the woman before them. This hadn't... exactly been the kind of person he'd envisioned when he'd imagined their "connection". Maybe he was mistaken, perhaps she was "selling her services" at the club.

"Hey," the woman greeted, placing one hand upon the table, "You look like the type of guys who like a potluck."

She was the one. Huh. Guess it took all sorts to run a seamy criminal underbelly.

"Yeah," Khalil said coolly, "I make a mean ambrosia salad."

The lady smirked and took a seat.

"Shall I order you a drink?" Khalil purred.

"Don't push your luck, we're here on business." The lady reached into her clutch, and set a manilla shipping envelope on the table. Khalil reached across the table, opening the envelope to survey the contents. A fat roll of 100's was inside. The demon man smiled, pulling the wad of cash out. He fanned the money, replaced it into a fireproof money bag, and sealed it. This bag was then pocketed.

"We'll be in-touch," the demon man assured the woman in front of him. For better or for worse-- if they continued business, or if Poseidon came to collect money that he was shorted... they'd be in-touch.

Jay sipped his drink, taking in the sights and smells of the club. There were different murmurs, mutterings, but they were mostly small talk. He focused on hearing and smelling because his eyes had a different job; his blue eyes were focused on the red-skinned mutant. Watching his actions, his mannerisms, and how he went about this.

When Khalil's gaze shifted, so did the canine-shifter's, turning to see a woman with a shaved head and a very nice figure approaching them. Showtime. Though it wasn't what Jay had expected, then again he'd watched way too many action movies.

Jay let his friend do all of the talking, as was the plan. It seemed easy enough; straight forward. Granted, the shit hadn't hit the fan, but in perfect condition, it was a piece of cake.