Change. Truly, the only unstoppable force in the universe. You see, things never remain stagnant. It is not in their nature to do so. They grow, they develop, they atrophy. The cycle is repeated: cell by cell, organism by organism, year by year. The process, slow and steady, maintains a necessary synchronicity between the plethora of organisms residing within the universe. One would argue that altering the verified process would mean disregarding the pivotal symphony between life and death itself. According to this perspective, a Domino Effect would ensue if even one object, one single organism, were to change at a different rate than those surrounding it.

Certainly, this argument was nonsensical. A variety of assumptions arose, unfounded in fact or evidence. One could not predict, estimate, or quantify change, in hopes of establishing a standard of comparison by which to evaluate the world. Even if one were to successfully accomplish the impossible, whom could ever hold that the factors which led to the result could not change themselves? After all, change remained the driving force of the universe. Similarly, the argument seemed to disregard the concept of evolution, which held that those in particularly harsh environments developed mechanisms by which to survive. Immunity to radiation, living in freezing conditions, and developing poison mechanisms were all examples of this very process. Therefore, change could never imbalance the world around it, for that balance itself had been nothing but an illusion all along.

Yet, Julian could not wrap his head around what had just occurred to him. The young Casanova had not experienced much turmoil in his life, nor were the circumstances surrounding his life harsh enough to warrant evolution- not at this expedited rate, anyhow. Whilst he was aware of mutants, he had remained largely undocumented and ignorant on this matter, as he had his own life and interests to focus on. He could not believe that one could be normal one day, and then express such a radical mutation the other. The young CEO had even resorted to philosophical intrinsic debates with himself, trying to recall as much as he could regarding evolution, change, and biology as a whole.

He could no recall that much. Had he been able to, he doubted his limited knowledge could help him in his current scenario.

Julian Grant was almost entirely certain that he was a mutant. It was either that, or a very peculiar disease that he had never heard of. The young adult was not sure which one he hoped for most. A chuckle escaped his lips at either possibility; anxiety had chosen to express itself through humour and intrinsic discussion. These two methods appeared to be the only ways that Julian could stop himself from focusing on the loud, thudding noise, that was his heartbeat. He felt as if it would pop right out of his chest in any moment.

The mutant's worries had been expressed, anonymously, on a variety of websites and forums. Whether medical or mutant-oriented, his message did not change, nor did he spare any details. He would begin by briefly outlining his lifestyle, diet, and workout plan. Then, he would detail the types and amount of substances he had consumed in the past year (legal or otherwise). Finally, he would administer the coup de grace: The apparent mutant had been stuck in a seemingly-endless cycle of either of his palms touching something, which would prompt the appearance and features of his respective arm to progressively change, reflecting that which he had touched. Removing the palm from the surface stopped the process.

It had started as half the arm. Then, as he grew aware of the process' nature, he had managed to cease said transformation once it had reached his wrist. The end, though, remained the same. After approximately ten minutes, he would be paralysed and in pain as the change reverted, revealing his regular arm. The agony was indescribable. It was as if several fingers and tools were poking around within his flesh, trying to tear his arm apart from the inside, gnawing at the transformation until it was gone.

As this (luckily) did not seem to occur when his fingers touched the screen of his phone, Julian had been able to spread his worries in the widest net possible. What type of people had been caught in that net- he was unsure of.

Currently? Julian Grant had taken his shirt off, revealing his upper torso, whilst black suit pants covered his legs, accompanied by a black leather belt, and black shoes on his feet. His phone rested next to his head as he laid upon the white rug found within his bathroom. His palms rested on his chest as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. His eyes were closed, focusing on his thoughts and on some semblance of calm- had he not done this, it was very likely that the mutation would occur, again and again, causing him eternal pain.

By doing nothing at all, just waiting, he had regained control of his life. However, the irony tugged at his core, stirring the anger inside of him. He could not be bound to said position forever, with no way of ever touching anything again. Julian needed to regain full control.

His right palm formed into a fist that was quickly slammed against the ceramic tiles. Sharp pain cursed through his bones as his hand kept slamming against the tile. It hurt, but it was the only way he could express his anger at the moment- so he did.

Then, his phone buzzed. For a second, Julian froze.

The man realised the reality of his circumstances and ceased his senseless rampage against his own residence. His anger had to be directed elsewhere. Better yet, he could have regained control: of his life and of his body. Then, the anger would disappear.

Hurriedly, the CEO of Scorched Earth Limited grabbed at his phone and turned the screen on. Somebody had replied.

Unbeknownst to Julian, the one that had chosen to help him was more than just a person or a mutant. He was family, for both of them had been plagued by change in unnatural ways.

Mirror

There were days when Mirror thought that the darn AMA was never going to leave him alone. It was haunting everyone who ever did it - including Ms. Taylor - and it brought tons of weird fan mail to the Mansion, at proportions unseen since the Maxine days. But there were also days when the mirrorwalker had to admit, the Brat Brigade had a point about the whole social media thing. Young mutants had no easier way to reach out, especially anonymously, than through the Internet. And that was kind of why Xavier's existed. To help them.

So, Mirror got the new and remaining members of the school's Brat Brigade (as a sort of temporary IT club) to monitor forums and chat rooms that were frequented by questioning mutants. Of course most of that crap was trolls, role-playing, and hoaxes... but that was why Mirror delegated the gruntwork of sorting through it. And every once in a while, the message boards turned of something true; or someone who was genuinely in trouble.

Like the guy with the weird tactile shifting thing.

That description was too detailed, and also weird, to be made up completely. Of course, it could have been a kid with a vivid imagination - but at least it was something worth looking into. It was at this point that Maya decided to take over from the kids. Recruitment was kind of in her job description, anyway.

It only took a few minutes to make an account on the message board, and find where she could direct message the guy.

Hey there! I just read your post about your mutation. Sounds like it's pretty recent. Are you doing ok?

Amidst everything, a reply came in. A sliver of hope had formed in the heart of the young man, telling him that he would not have to turn into a recluse on the basis of his recent medical situation- he would not call it a mutation, for he did not know what it truly was. Thoughts and feelings fervently fought for dominance, rendering chaotic the chambers of his mind. In the middle of the indecision, insecurities, and paranoia, a reply came in.

If only that reply had ******* said anything useful.

Upon reading the message, Julian's jaw clenched tighter than he believed possible, hearing a light snap come from the back of his head upon doing so. The veins on his forehead showed ever so slightly as his nostrils flared up, his breathing accelerating at an exponential rate. Once more, he could hear the pounding heartbeat in his head. Echoing, drumming, aching. The fingers on his left hand curled tightly against the phone, squeezing it in their grasp as if they were going to turn it into dust. His eyes closed as let out a deep groan. The fire within him was growing stronger by the second. What had once been a mere spark was now a bubbling pot of fiery anger, ready to erupt. The lack of control and the idiocy with which he had been met upon trying to seize said control were infuriating!

There he was, in his bathroom, secluded from the world and from touching anything, for touch would inadvertently cause him pain. There he was, asking for help from anyone. There he was... waiting! There he was... out of control! And when they replied, they dared waste his time with small-talk?! He had no time for it! He was not okay! He was out of control! Why couldn't they just see that?!

Julian propelled himself to his feet, throwing the phone against the wooden door with all of his might before allowing his fists to repeatedly slam against it. Strike after strike, his knuckles with hit the door until they bleed. When the pain got too bad to keep wailing on the door, he turned his attention towards the sink. With one, jagged motion, his arms scattered the items that had been on the sink all around the bathroom. Some broke, some shattered. He didn't care.

The mutant gazed at himself in the mirror, careful not to touch anything with his palms. His eyes and his skin were red with fury, veins inflated from the rate at which the heart was pumping blood throughout his body. A scowl marked his facial features. Julian stared at himself for ten minutes, gazing into his own eyes, repressing his anger, trying to think.

"Maybe cold water will help," he thought. The cold tap turned on and, as soon as his hands were engulfed in the icy liquid, he could feel it. The sharp pain radiated across his knuckles, like tiny needles piercing his skin, whilst its duller counterpart was felt across the fleshy region of the palms. He winced, slowly extending and bending his fingers. After a few splashes of cold water to the face, Julian appeared to have regained his sanity and control.

He sat down, resting his back against the wooden door that his knuckles had sunken into minutes before. He exhaled deeply as he looked at the ceiling. Once more, he had ceased moving or thinking for a substantial span of time- without realising it

He snapped out of his trance-like state, looking around him. The mutant's eyes fell upon the phone. His arm extended, his fingers tugging at the back of the phone until they could grab onto it. Upon turning the device, he saw that no substantial damage had come to it. No other reply had come through.

The situation was precarious. With an unwarranted supply of faith, Julian decided to temporarily venture into the land of the reckless and the idiotic. He replied to the one that had privately messaged him.

His reply was simple. After including his address, he only added one word: Help.

Julian needed help. There was no avoiding it.
He was afraid what he would do if he could not regain his control.

Help

The response took a long time. Maya wondered if the post had been a hoax after all, of if the mutant was not ready yet to actually talk to someone about it. But then the response came, with the address and just one word. Help.

Maya walked into the mirrors and headed to the address right away. She needed to check it out, even if it was a prank of some sort. Besides, if someone had planned a prank or an ambush, they probably expected her to come through the front door. Which she was not going to do.

It took her a while to find the right mirror - but when she did, it was pretty obvious. The guy was sitting in a bathroom, in the middle of a pretty bad mess of things broken and thrown around. He did look like he needed help.

Maya knocked on the bathroom mirror with her knuckle to get his attention.

"Hey. You said you needed help?"

Know Thyself.

Said the Seven Sages of Greece

Know Thyself.

Had been the words that had been inscribed upon the Temple of Delphi.

"Know Thyself."

Julian echoed in the chambers of his mind. Thinking, wondering, worrying.

His whole life, he wished to achieve true knowledge and control. Even as a teenager, he would notice the reality around him whilst the rest remained oblivious to the facets of the world surrounding them. He sought to use his awareness to develop his knowledge, which would inadvertently lead to his domination of his peers and competitors. Such was the way the success.

Yet, he wondered. He worried. Julian Grant thought he knew himself better than anyone else could ever know oneself. He believed that he had reached true enlightenment in regards to the self. Every quality, every flaw (not that there were many), every nook and cranny of his mind and soul, were known to him. Yet, there it was, the glaring secret; the spot of darkness that had avoided being harmed by the harsh light of reality for two decades. The originally shy, shadow-like being, cowered in the corner of his mind, had grown in size and ferocity. It had become a beast, taking center stage, gnawing with its claws and teeth at Julian's thoughts and feelings. Whilst the mutant sought to retain control, the mutation inside him sought chaos and disarray: it had been prodding and pushing him towards untenable rage.

Rage that he had given into, only a few minutes ago.

Realising that he had lost control to an enemy inside of his own body, the CEO's heart rate began to accelerate, pumping adrenaline through his veins as if the man required it to live. All he could see, as his eyes were closed, was the shadowy goblin towering over him, taunting and mocking him as it continued eating away at his sanity. Its teeth were razor-sharp blades made of sheer darkness. Its eyes were of a fiery red that burned deep within Julian, provoking him with their gaze and fervour.

He could feel his muscles tense. It started at the jaw with a tight clench, before moving down his body. His back bulged up as, one by one, his muscles tightened. From his shoulders to his thighs, Julian was now as tense as could be. All of the rage building inside of him was waiting to escape, waiting to be let out into the world so that it may take hold of him and roam free. The nails on his fingers dug into his palms ferociously enough as to draw blood, which started dripping down his wrists and forearms, and falling down on the floor.

The monster, the mutation, taking hold of him, taunting him. The need to lose control. The need to express anger! The anger that was building inside of him! He could not hold it in anymore!

The man's body shook in surprise. The spell that the goblin had placed him under, drawing him into the crevices of his mind, where Julian would surely lose all control, was broken. A peculiar-sounding knock and a female voice had broken that spell.

As his eyes opened and his limbs sprawled all around him, he wondered where he was. Between his confrontation with the self, and waking up, he had forgotten all about it. All about his worries, about his past, about his mutation. It felt... serene.

But nothing remains forgotten forever. Relaxing his body, Julian looked around erratically, trying to compose himself. If someone knocked, and it was not his psyche playing a cruel joke on him, then they would have to have been the one that Julian had asked for help. Yet, he had not felt any force against the wooden door.

Disregarding those minor queries and concerns, the mutant slowly recovered to his feet, smearing the blood along the white floor and the nearby (similarly white) wall. He turned towards the door and inhaled deeply. He was whispering to himself, trying to collect his thoughts before vocalising any of them. Whomever was on the other side of that door could not know how weak he felt. How he thought that he could never regain control of his life.

He believed he was ready when, out the corner of his eye, he saw a figure in the mirror. His heart jumped in his chest as he looked at the mirror, his body jumping further away from it reflexively.

"Are you f****** crazy?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! Jesus Christ!" He yelled angrily as his right palm laid flat against his bare chest, painting it red, whilst his left hand was reflexively open towards the would-be attacker. His anger was expected, given that regular individuals made a habit of knocking on doors, not on mirrors- and that, well, they usually weren't in the mirrors even if they chose to knock on them.

Unbeknownst to him, the source of his anger had been more than just the startling interaction with the female mutant. The fact that a mutant had replied to him, and that they chose to showcase their mutant abilities to him, only solidified his fears that he may have very well been a mutant as well.

Processing that information would prove to be incredibly difficult.

Maya tried to be as obvious as she could be; there was no need to spook the guy. He was already freaking out, and from the looks of it, he was not dealing with the situation very well; his hands were bloody, although she was not sure what caused it. It was not enough blood to point to him harming himself. Yet. That was good at least. But even though she showed herself, and knocked, he still turned to the door first... Maya was about to gently correct him, when he caught sight of her, and jumped.

>>"Are you f****** crazy?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?! Jesus Christ!"

"Whoa whoa!" Maya held up her hands "It's okay, I'm here to help. Sorry, I was trying to get you to notice me... You messaged me, remember? I thought you'd want proof that I'm a mutant too. Mind if I come in?"

Even though she was already technically in the apartment, she did not want to step any more into the guy's personal space, before he gave her the ok to do so. He looked more than a little frazzled. Hopefully, talking would help with that...

Julian's shocked and angered conduct seemed to prompt a defensive reaction from the other. The female, attractive as it were, held her hands up and exclaimed. She assured him that she was there to help, and that she only meant to be noticed by the otherwise entranced man. That... made sense. Knowing that the other did not mean to harm him in any way helped Julian calm down. Yet, his system was still in shock. His chest heaved up and down as he hunched slightly, his palms now resting on his jeans, smearing them as well.

Recollecting himself from his trance and from the surprising encounter, the man realised that he did not truly expect for the other to attack him. It had been a natural, defensive reaction for his body to tense up at the sight of a potential attacker. However, the female appeared to be anything but, regardless of the construction of her DNA. This realisation startled the CEO, whom realised that, after uncovering the truth about his own genetic makeup, both his body and mind had given up on him. His mind, infected by the mutation, toyed with him and his emotions, prompting uncontrollable fits of sheer rage, whilst his body reacted in cowardice rather than the self-defence he had instilled unto it for the past half a decade.

It appeared as if every cell inside his body was giving up on him. A hint of dark humour passed through his mind, jokingly wondering if he had actually died and ended up in Hell. Yet, that could not be the case. Fortunately.

Julian had to actively prevent himself from rolling his eyes at the female when she asked him if he had remembered messaging her. He was experiencing trauma, not memory loss. There was no need to be condescending. His gaze moved from the female to the ground in said attempt, but he was sure that some of the exasperation had escaped through some part of his body.

Then, she said that she thought he'd want proof that she was a mutant too. Too. Julian froze in place. The word ate at his heart strings as if they were bubble gum before inflating a bubble of sorrow that burst in his chest and filled his core with unending anxiety.

So, he was a mutant. There it was. There was no coming back from that. No matter what he would say, do, or attempt, from now on, Julian Grant was a mutant. There was nothing he could do to change it. The man had been cursed by his own DNA, forced to live as a recluse for the rest of his existence.

"Yeah, come on in." He replied, his tonality a neutral grey, as soon as he realised that he had kept quiet for a while, attempting to process the new information. His eyebrows pressed together as he inhaled sharply, holding back the liquid that threatened to pool in his eyes and drip down his cheeks. No sign of weakness could be shown, Julian. None.

The CEO straightened his back and waited for the other to enter. He wondered how exactly that would happen, but he figured he would immediately get an answer that would satisfy his curiosity.

Once given permission, Maya stepped out of the mirror and into the small space of the bathroom. The guy... was clearly not okay. If he really had just manifested powers, he was probably even more of a mess inside than what he looked like on the outside. He was a little older than the kids that usually manifested, but that did not really matter. Maya stopped as she landed, waiting for his reaction.

"Well... hi" she said finally with a small smile. She was not going to do the whole bright fake smile freshman orientation thing, but there was no need to look all serious. He was spooked enough. "My name is Maya. I saw your messages and thought I'd come see if I can help. I have met a lot of mutants who just recently discovered their powers and... it can be a mess." understatement of the year, hello. Maya glanced at the man's hands instead. "That looks like it hurts."

Holism.

The firm belief that the individual is the sum of its independent parts. Body, mind, and soul, come together to form the man. Julian, contrary to most men, had one more element thrown into the concoction. Beyond his mind, body, and soul, he had suffered a genetic mutation- one which threatened to break him apart.

If the whole was the sum of the parts, then what happened when another part- an infectious, poisonous part- was thrown in?

The theory did not seem to account for any such complication.

His body would never be the same. Not only had his genetic makeup been suddenly altered, but it would perpetually alter whenever he would make tactile contact with another object, thereby placing the state of his body in eternal flux. There were a variety of objects that he would like to touch, a variety of things he would have loved to have felt one more time, but he could not do so any longer. Retrospectively, he thought, he wished he would have had the awareness of what was to happen. If he had, he would have enjoyed the world around him more.

His mind, previously a haven for control, knowledge, and sanity, had been tainted by the mutation as well. The effects were indirect, but they were far more devastating than the physical pain and paralysis inflicted upon the body. Julian had lost control to an extent that he never had before. It was terrifying. The amalgamation of lack of control, fear, rage, and the mutation, took form of a shadowy figure within the halls of his mind, threatening to tear it apart. It would confuse Julian, take away his control, and entice him towards rage.

His soul? He was not certain what to make of it. The mutant had never paid too much attention to what one would have 'truly' felt in a scenario. He had his own things to deal with. Julian had objectives, goals, targets; name them whatever, but those were his sole focus. His soul had never come into focus, in two decades of his existence. Yet, in that very moment, he pondered over it for a few seconds. How had this mutation affected it? Had it tainted it? Was it possible to taint it beyond its current point? Or, was his soul intact, as he actually believed it to be? After all, Julian was not a bad person.

The mutation had poisoned every single part of him.

It appeared that the sum was the difference of the parts, after all.

She stepped out of the mirror and introduced herself. Her name was Maya and she wanted to see if she could help, as she had met a lot of mutants whom had just manifested their powers. The sentiment was nice enough and, when she smiled, it was genuine. None of it was fake or forced. On some level, Julian had to have appreciated that. However, all of that was on the back-burner, as he was currently trying to decode as much as he could out of the few words she had given him.

Maya met a lot of mutants, and this happened shortly after they discovered their powers. She was aware of how it looked, how it felt, how they took it. This could only certify Julian's logical assertion that she was experienced in interacting with mutants and knew a variety of them. She was also good-willed enough, offering to help him. Manipulating her was going to be easy enough. Julian needed help, and he needed it urgently.

Inside his mind, the shadowy goblin taunted him. The Great Julian Grant, asking for help.
He gritted his teeth.

> "That looks like it hurts." she said, most likely referring to his bleeding hands, given her gaze.

"Yeah, it stings like a *****." Julian thought. But, he could not show any weakness. It was not allowed.

"It's fine." He replied instead, shaking his wrists whilst he straightened his fingers, flinging the blood off his hands as if it did not hurt at all. It surely did. Yet, he kept a straight face.

"If I may," he began, humbly, as he knew other people (especially the naive) enjoyed some humble modesty, "you said that you could help? How could you help me?" The CEO questioned her directly. He was aware that he lacked both time and patience but, in light of the current circumstances, he believed that would be excused by the kind-hearted spirit.

None of his true colours would show.

>>"It's fine."

It was not fine. It was most decidedly totally not fine. Maya arched an eyebrow as the guy - who had not told her his name, poor freaked out dude - shook his hands out. It looked like he had been digging his nails into his palm. Was he in pain?... She wanted to ask, but he was already all tensed up and guarded. It was not the time to try to baby him more.

>>"If I may... you said that you could help? How could you help me?"

"I work at Xavier's" Maya ventured "The school for mutants downtown? They took me in when I was sixteen. I'd been living on my own before that... so the school's pretty much my home. I find mutants to need help, and figure out how to help them. If you're hurt, we can fix that... if you need help figuring out exactly what your powers are, and what you can do, we have the safe environment to do that." she shrugged, looking at him "But mostly I'm just here to check, for now. Looks like you've been through some sh*t. You wanna tell me?"

He had begun to feel it.
Pain.

It had started as a sharp ache- a piercing feeling whenever he would do something that caused harm to himself. Punching the door caused waves of pain to break against the banks of his knuckles, only for the waters of hurt to dawdle into the remainders of his hand. Throwing the items around had caused some to ricochet and hit him, granting him spots of dull ache throughout his body. Digging his nails into his palms was some of the sharpest pain he'd ever felt, each nail feeling like a screw. The blood sure made it seem that way.

Yet, the pain had evolved far beyond its initial intensity. It subsided for a few minutes before flooding him all at once: a dull tsunami, ready to knock the life out of him. All of the pain he had felt up until that point, all the fatigue, all of the mental toll that he had felt that very evening. It hit him as hard as it could.

Stoically, he stood there and listened to the other. He did not pay mind to the radiating pain, currently engulfing his whole body in various degrees of intensity. He did not care for the shadowy goblin dancing in the recesses of his mind, taunting him to let his anger out on the helpful woman. Julian had forced himself to stop caring for his lack of control as well- he would repeatedly tell himself to live in the moment and fix the issues, rather than keep mentally pressing upon them. Yet, that could not work, for control was all that he had ever craved, and all he ever truly had. Until that moment. That damned moment that took all of it away; made him a helpless victim, a beggar. A mutant.

It appeared that Maya had both the resources and the authority to start Julian on his path of figuring everything out. He was excited to hear that- an excitement which he cautiously contained within himself as he listened. He would not want to seem too thrilled about going to Xavier's, as that might provoke an odd reaction. All of the persona he had built in front of her would come undone if he were to tell her that the reason he needed her was to get there, so he could learn about himself, and regain his control. She was, at the moment, a means to an end.

Yet, in that very moment, Maya appeared to want more information. She'd requested him to tell her what he had gone through (in a polite manner, as most people usually did when they wanted something, but felt too weird to ask it straight), as if he were some kid with a scraped knee that she needed to help. He felt as if the dialogue was partially condescending, which irritated him slightly. What irritated him more was that he was in a vulnerable position, where he had experienced pain and anguish, and he had truly been through 'some sh*t', as she said. However, his code dictated that he could not tell her the truth about how he felt. About how he ached all over, or how the goblin danced in his mind, taunting him.

A workaround was found. Julian would pretend he was in the exact same position he was, allowing him to exaggerate or embellish, whilst attributing those traits to the persona he had built up in front of her.

"No." he said, after a sigh, but then shook his head slightly.
"I suppose you can't help if I don't," he paused again and looked at her, making sure that she was listening to him.
"I was here and... I touched something. My arm started becoming what I had touched and..." he pointed at the iron faucet, which was similar, but not the same object he had originally touched "it only stopped after I took my hand off of it. It wouldn't come off."

Julian's palms raised and opened as he looked at them. Red and bloody.
He inhaled sharply.

"It wouldn't come off. It wouldn't... come off. Then, minutes later, I was paralysed. I felt myself change back. I felt it all." Inside his mind, the goblin was still laughing. His taunts and mockery were getting louder and louder. "Then... then..." Julian was not sure whether what he was saying was a lie or true anymore. He was not sure whether this was a persona, or whom he truly was. Had the mutation changed him? Had it broken him? Could he repair himself?

No, he couldn't.

The voice inside was adamant.

"Then... I... uhm... it happened again. And again. And again. And again." With each repeated sequence of words, his voice grew rougher and louder, his palms clenching into tight fists.

"I cannot touch anything without f****** becoming what I touch! Then there's the f******* pain!" Julian shouted, face twisted in anger, as his right arm shot towards the wall, hitting it with the back of his fist.

It hurt, but the voice had disappeared in that moment.

... Then, he realised what he had done. He looked back at Maya and let his arms fall to his side.

"I'm sorry." He said.

Perhaps they were the most honest words that he had said that evening. Perhaps they were all a ruse.
Could he tell anymore?

The guy was... guarded. Confused, mostly, which was no wonder if he was dealing with a manifesting mutation, but also guarded in a way that made Maya question if he had some sort of a bad experience with asking for help before. Or maybe he did not want to appear weak. Which was stupid, but not all that uncommon.

>>"No.... I suppose you can't help if I don't,"

Sure, he probably did not want to talk to a stranger at all, but the stranger was already in his bathroom, and he did not have many other options anyway. he knew that.

>>"I was here and... I touched something. My arm started becoming what I had touched and... it only stopped after I took my hand off of it. It wouldn't come off."

She could feel the panic, or recent memory of panic, rising in his voice. No wonder he was freaked out. Whatever he touched in the bathroom, shifting unexpectedly had to be scary. Maya nodded slowly.

>>"It wouldn't come off. It wouldn't... come off. Then, minutes later, I was paralysed. I felt myself change back. I felt it all. Then... then... Then... I... uhm... it happened again. And again. And again. And again... I cannot touch anything without f****** becoming what I touch! Then there's the f******* pain!"

And then he lost it. Maya was getting an idea of what was going on, but he really did not have much of a grip on his reaction yet. When he yelled, she shifted back, not that she was scared of him, but she wanted him to have some more personal space, to calm down. She also held up a hand. "Whoa. Okay. Breathe."

>>"I'm sorry."

"It's totally okay" Maya shook her head at the apology "It would freak anyone out, trust me. It sounds like you're some kind of... inorganic shifter, maybe? Taken on properties of materials on contact? I've met some of those before." it was likely he had no control yet on what his body decided to do. "I shift involuntarily too, but... in a different way. Anyway, let's take this one step at a time, okay?" she took a look at him "I'll try to walk you through this. Can you tell me your name?"

There it was, again. The condescending, yet somewhat caring tone, telling him to calm down. Telling him to breathe. As if Julian required any direction as to what to do. Even if he did require guidance, he was of the firm belief that any such reductionist selection of words would only serve to anger him further- as the words had indeed managed to do. The CEO felt offended that the other believed her words would have any calming effect. He was a mutant, whom had just exhibited his powers, whom was getting angrier by the second, whom was in pain, and she was indirectly telling him to calm down. How condescending and idiotic could she get?

The fire burning hotter and hotter within him was only quelled by the realisation that Maya's words only served to help herself: if she truly was a caring person, as she appeared to be, then she would have felt better with herself knowing that she helped someone else. In truth, whilst her words were meant to help the other, they possessed a selfish trait that, once recognised by Julian, calmed the newly-mutated man.

Indeed, Maya was the best person to satisfy his desire to regain control.

Julian inhibited his anger and listened, his face slowly changing to its neutral shape from the deep scowl that had previously taken hold.

Maya had seen this before. She even had a name for it:

Inorganic Shifting

(the ability to take on properties of materials on contact)

The words flew out of her mouth and into his mind, tying a few pieces together. There was a certain serenity in hearing the other explain his mutation to him, but with more knowledge and awareness as to what it truly was. Of course, she was guessing, given she had not seen it in action, but her experience led Julian to believe that she had a firm basis to go on.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he pondered over it quickly. If she knew what it was, it meant that she could help him with it. She could help him turn it off, or at least teach him how to control it. Suddenly, a paradigm shift had occurred; while the mutation had previously been seen as a curse placed upon him, tearing him apart, Julian could now hypothesise of a time when his mutation would be advantageous. Yet, the shift was subtle and deep within him, blocked by  uncertainty and lack of knowledge, which clouded his sense of self. Alongside the sigh, his body relaxed ever so slightly.

She claimed to shift as well, involuntarily, but in a different manner. The statement was, most certainly, meant to provide a sense of kinship between the two. It had failed in doing so. Whilst Julian was curious about it, specifically whether the statements was factual or not, he did not question her regarding it, as it would not have helped him in any way. He was to get help, and he could not detract from her focus and efforts in any way. Maya seemed willing to help, offering to walk Julian through it all.

However, he was first to tell her his name.

Of course! He had forgotten to introduce himself! In any other circumstance, he would have kicked himself for that, given that his name carried a lot of influence and authority amongst the depraved and the powerful, but he believed that the special circumstances allowed him some reprieve.

"My name is Julian Thadeus Grant." The man spoke, trying to get this part of the conversation out of the way, as he looked at her. He tried to glance over saying his name as it meant nothing (humble and vulnerable people would do so), but he feared that some of his pride in whom he was and what he had accomplished would shine through the mirage.

If it had, the CEO hoped she would not denote anything negative from it.

Hope.
The equivalent of losing control and placing your fate in the hands of another.

The demon inside him mocked him for it, making him wince in pain.

>>"My name is Julian Thadeus Grant."

He said that as if she was supposed to know who he was. Maya wondered if he was some kind of a V.I.P., a hotshot businessman or lawyer or something. She was not going to find out anytime soon, given the state he was in, but she made a mental note to Google him later. For now, whoever he was on a normal day, he was mostly a dude going through some sh*t and not being too nice about it.

"Alright. Julian." she nodded, folding her arms. He looked like he had no patience for talking in circles. "You are wearing pants, an standing on the floor. So... is your body not trying to copy what you're currently touching, or are you actively holding it back?"

If she could guess what he would and would not turn into on contact, she would have a better idea of how to protect him from shifting involuntarily, at least until she managed to get him to calm down, and find a safer environment. Or get him to the Mansion. The last thing she wanted was for him to turn into glass while mirrorwalking...

Uh-oh. She folded her arms. Usually, that was a bad sign, as people would only fold their arms across their chest when they were defensive, wary, or uncomfortable. Julian could understand the latter, but the former two could not be explained. It seemed that she did not know whom he was, which meant that she had no reason to fear, or defend herself against him. Perhaps it was the situation which made her uncomfortable, given his aggressive tendencies and his reluctance to engage in meaningless small-talk. Furthermore, he was quite close to being naked.

He supposed he understood the wariness.

Yet, all of that became unimportant when she questioned him regarding his mutation. Maya had brought up incredible useful and informative points through her rhetorical statements and her questions. It was true, Julian was wearing something (pants) and he was standing on the floor. In fact, he had stepped on a variety of materials, and had worn a shirt that he had taken off during his second ever mutation. However, he had not replicated the molecular structure of his pants, of his (now off) shirt, or of what he was stepping on.

Even more knowledge had been gained regarding his mutation. Julian, most likely, could not replicate or absorb materials through his feet, or any other part other than his palms, as they had been the only ones which prompted his mutation. Whilst he was undergoing the change, he could then not replicate another object until the previous change had ceased. Pondering over this newfound information, he smiled to himself with raised eyebrows, feeling as if he regained some of the control that he had lost.

The shadowy figure within his head slightly shrunk in that moment.

She asked him if he was actively holding back his powers. Julian realised that, in the midst of the pain, paralysis, and internal chaos, he had not even attempted to touch something whilst forcing his body not to shift. In fact, he feared touching anything at all. Yes, he had touched his chest, and the water, but those were under some basic presumptions that he could not replicate himself, nor could he turn into water. Which had been yet another clue- Julian had not turned into water. This encounter was truly informative, he thought.

"I, uhm, I'm not. I... realise now that I've only... shifted... when I touched something with my palms. I haven't really tried touching anything and stopping. The pain is... overwhelming. But... I do know I cannot replicate myself, or water, if that helps." Julian spoke tentatively, trying to hide his pride and happiness at the newfound information. Even the word 'shifted' had been met with an inquisitive tonality, rather than the general neutral tonality he had adopted so far.

The more information he gained, the more the CEO felt like he was in control again. Of course, he still wasn't.