It was a pretty darn normal day, Tarin couldn't help but think as he paced back and forth in the front of the shop. It was a pretty darn normal day except that Lee wasn't there. She'd worked every day since deciding that she was coming back and Tarin has basically ordered her to stay home...well as much as he ever ordered Lee to do anything.

He was busy as a bee though, making sure the books were kept up and that the Shop was spotless, the last thing he wanted was Lee thinking she couldn't even take a day off. So Tarin worked, and worked, and worked. Then he missed Lee because he was working so hard.

People seemed more than eager to get in contact with their dead loved ones....especially people who didn't actually have dead loved ones with them. Tairn usually had a headache at the end of the day from the effort of constant connection with spirits, today he had a headache from the strain of making up stories to placate these people.

It was lunch time now, and the store was, for all intents and purposes, closed...but his time for relaxation was almost over and Tarin sighed from his beat up arm chair, then slowly rose, making his way to the door to pull up the shades again and flip the switch on the neon "Open" sign. Back to the grind.

Stories of people who can talk to the dead are nothing new. Many people have claimed to be able to over the years. However, amoungst the mass of fake psychics, fortune tellers and magicians every now and then you find a real one. That is why every such tale, no matter how far fetched, is looked into by someone in the employ, either directly or indirectly, of Hunter Antonescu.

Greg Newell was the man looking into Tarin Brooks. It's been years since he'd made a real find, a mutant with some precognative abilities down in Texas, but he remembered the bonus like it was yesterday. He'd lived well for seven years, in a style which he'd like to become acustom to. But he'd not made another find, and eventually the bonus ran out. Now he was the wrong side of fourty and was looking for one last find to see him to retirment.

Along with Tarin Greg was looking into over a dozen other stories in the area, but none really looked promising. Some leads on Tarin however were showing up. Several people he'd spoken to told him of how he'd spoken, with remarkable accuracy, about their deceased loved ones. He'd finally gotten enough posative feedback to make a personal visit three days ago. It was like having an actual conversation with his mother.

He'd notifide his superiors right away. A man by the name of Nigel Banks had gotten into contact with him and asked for confirmation. When the photo of Tarin that Greg gave him corresponded with one from the escape of the detention facility just prior to the collapse of the registration act Nigel knew Greg was onto something. Hunter was notifide immediatly and hence the immortal's entrance to the shop.

For once he was not dressed in a very expensive suit. Instead he wore casual jeans, a plain white t-shirt and sneakers. With his hair loose and a pair of shades on he looked like your everyday New Yorker, just out and about. Upon entering the shop he flashed the owner a smile. "So, I hear you can talk to the dead," he said, adopting a slight New York accent with no hint of his European origins. No sense in beating about the bush.

It seemed like he'd barely turned the sign back on and walked behind the counter to toss out his coke can when the bell above the door jingled to announce another customer. If business had been like this while Lee had been gone, he'd have been so busy things might have been easier. Might have...probably not.

The customer was a smiler, not exactly the norm as far as those hunting for a connection to the dead were concerned. He was dressed casually but something about the way he carried himself suggested that the casual nature was hiding a powerfully restrained interior. He was surrounded by spirits as well. That was unsettling.

It wasn't to the degree that the assassin who'd found his way into the shop had been surrounded, but Tarin had a feeling that playing around with this guy would be a terrible mistake. Nobody walked around with that volume of death following them, who couldn't take care of themself in one way or another. Too wary of the situation to actually establish a link with the spirits, Tarin held them at bay and waited to see what the man wanted.

The man spoke and his slight accent suggested he was a born and raised New Yorker, as did the direct way he got right to the point. If there was one thing he'd learned, beating around the bush with a New Yorker was a quick way to waste time and not end up paid.

Wiping his hands on his pants to clear them of the condensation from the can, Tarin made his way forward and held out his hand to his customer as was his habit. "Tarin Brooks." he said by way of introduction, "And to answer your question, yes, I can talk to the dead in a way." It was always best to be vague, at least at first. After all, how many times had Lee told him that discretion was their friend, their very very good friend.

Hunter was watching Tarin's pupils as he spoke. The reaction their let him know that Tarin was reading more about him than could be seen. That alone was enough to peek his interest. Hunter took the offered hand and shook it firmly, but concealing his true power. "Steven Wyatt," Hunter said by way of introduction. It was the name of a friend of a friend of the man he'd come to speek to.

Paul Haze had been gunned down in a back alley by a man in his early twenties, about 5'11", well built, blonde hair, blue eyes and a scar on his left cheek. Hunter knew all this because he had instructed the man to kill Paul. Paul was an employee of one of Hunters side companies who had not been pulling his weight, hence volleteting himself for this experiment.

"A friend of a friend was killed rescently," Hunter explained, "Police won't give him the details, but Chuck Harrison suspects foul play. Asked me to see what I could find. I head about you and figured it was worth a shot. The guy's name was Paul Haze, think you can hook me up with him?"

Paul and Chuck were good friends, but Paul's death was still unknown to the world at large, everyone believing he'd gone for a trip to Florida, where he'd turn up dead in a few days. Chuck would have mentioned Steven to Paul. Steven was a private detective who Chuck knew but Paul hadn't met, so Paul wouldn't suspect Hunter once Hunter started asking questions. Like any scientific test, the condition's needed to be controlled. There could only be one variable, Tarin.

The other man introduced himself wihtout hesitation and shook Tarin's hand. The shake wasn't too firm, and it wasn't too soft, a fair introduction under any circumstances. Now it was down to business.

The mass of dead humanity swelled around the two as the man, 'Steven', explained the situation and what he wanted Tarin to do. As he spoke, Tarin started to look at each of the spirits in turn, resisting a direct link with any of them, still slightly uncomfortable with the situation.

There were several candidates who could have been the young man that Tarin was looking for but for some reason he was leary of the information a direct link would give him as far as the spirit was concerned. Right now their voices were still just a mutter in the background, but if he gave up too much more he'd know...maybe too much. The other man's story was just so polished. It put Tarin on edge and he wasn't afraid to admit it, not at all.

Tarin nodded his head at the other man's story though, and took a deep breath and fixed the other man with a level gaze, "You'll have to excuse me for a second. I'd normally do this in the back...but something tells me that the horse and pony show wouldn't do anything for you."

Tarin focused on the spirits and gradually opened the link, focused completely on fishing out this particular spirit by its name. Paul? he asked every spirit, instantly closing the link with anyone who didn't respond immediately...he couldn't risk another John Erik incident.

As he worked his way through the mass of dead humanity assembled in his shop, Tarin got more and more nervous. The glimpses he was getting of these peoples' deaths were not pleasent thoughts, or easy passes in the arms of loved ones. They never were. There was violence here.

Finally, a reaction, a man reacted to the name then sent a rush of images through Tarin's mind that made him gasp slightly, then shudder. "I think I've found him."

Tarin hesitated for a second, the man seemed harmless and simply interested in this contact at the moment, so what harm was there in making him happy?

"I'm very sorry to tell you...but I think your friend's speculation was right. What I'm seeing through this spirit is a very violent death." Tarin concentrated a moment later, letting the morbid scene play over in his head, "A dark place, probably an alleyway, lots of gunshots. He didn't stand a chance."

Hunter watched as Tarin went to work. The fear coming off of him was palpable. Despite his best efforts at concealing who he was Hunter had a feeling that however Tarin contacted the dead, it allowed him to know more about someone that you could tell by just seeing them. When he finally spoke the details were right on hte money.

"Sh*t," Hunter cursed, "Did he get a look at who did it? Anyhting I can get will help." He knew for a fact that Paul had clearly seen his assailent prior to being shot. Time to find out just how detailed Tarin could be, if he was up to the task Hunter had in mind.

Details, the man wanted details. Tarin started to doubt his initial thoughts about the guy. If he worked in law enforcement or something like that, it wouldn't be surprising that he was surrounded by spirits. Tarin looked back to Paul, who didn't look all that happy about his plight in the after life...but seemed at least a little pleased that someone cared about his death enough to want to know exactly what had happened.

Tarin opened the mental link more between himself and the dead guy. The picture came into even clearer focus in his mind's eye and he concentrated on the details that Paul had seen before the guy pulled the trigger, as the bullets pumped into him, and as he lay dying in the dirty alleyway. Tarin was glad he was desensitized to these things, otherwise this might have been too much.

"Yeah...I can tell you some things." he said, voice just a little bit rough, then he looked at the other man, a searching look before he spoke. "It might be better if her heard it directly from his mouth though."

Tarin channeled energy into the dead man's spirit, feeling the pull lightly on his own energy reserves as it appeared that the man appeared out of thin air. He was transparent at first, but quickly thickened up until he was standing in the room between the two men. "I'll trust you to be discreet about this." Tarin said, casting a look in the other man's direction and hoping that his eyes which were milky white with his effort wouldn't freak him out too much.

"Paul. Please tell us about the man who killed you. Details please."

The spirit nodded its head slowly, pleased simply to be able to speak again, to be heard, "He was just under six feet probably. Blonde hair, a big scar on his cheek. I can't remember which one...it keeps switching in my memory....if that's what it is. His eyes were like ice...so cold." The spirit started to lose focus..."Then I was so cold...I started to freeze right then and there...I was choking on my own blood...then I was floating...."

That was enough...Tarin severed the link and the guy blinked out if existence as fast as he had appeared and Tarin shuddered mildly shaken by the desperation of the spirit who was still speaking to him about the way it felt to die.

"I'm sorry if that ended up uncomfortable for you sir." he said to his customer, "Sometimes they get a little caught up in being able to feel again..if only temporarily."

Hunter could hear the strain in Tarin's voice as well as see several other signs. Connecting with the dead was a drain on him. When he mentioned hearing it from Paul's mouth Hunter was confused, then he saw Paul beginning to appear in the room. Hunter couldn't believe his eyes, and strained all his senses to see how real this spirit was.

It seemed real enough, even with his enhanced eyesight it looked real. However, there was no smell, Tarin couldn't replicate that when he brought the spirit back. The voice was indeed Paul's, hunter had heard a sample before coming here, and the details were accurate. Test result: Posative.

Would he dare? It would be much safer to just obtain a blood sample and deal with it back at the lab. However, he'd not seen here in centuries. She was now only a hair's breadth from him. Dare he risk it, risk it all for her? He'd done it once, and for a brief few decades been happy. Surely doing so now was worth it if he could be happy for eternity?

"Very good Tarin," Hunter said, taking off and discarding the shades, "you've passed my test. You have proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can communicate with the dead. I knew the precise details of the man's death as I orchestrated it. Now, you are going to do exactly as I ask or I'll have to orchestrate yours."

Hunter paused letting the threat sink in. "Now, I want to test your limits. I want you to find me a spirit that has been dead for two hundred years. Katherin Oswald, my wife." Hunter deliberatly neglected to explain how he could have had a wife so long ago and still be here now, Tarin had enough to process right now. All he wanted was to see his wife, talk to her again. Was that too much for a man to ask?

The man was impressed, and some of the smooth facade fell away as he tossed away his sunglasses and took on the air of a very dangerous man. They were standing in the middle of the front of the shop, so Tarin hoped that would give him some protection from whatever it was the guy had planned.

Wrong.

The guy kept on talking and all that Tarin could do was stare. Death threats? What the hell did the guy think that he did for a living? Tarin was incredulous as he stood in his shop and listened to this man tell him that if he didn't contact the spirit of his wife who had died 200 years ago, he was going to kill him.

Tarin did another mental double-take. 200 years old? How old was the guy standing in front of him? How was he that old? Tarin stood still, the spirits actually forgotten as his head spun with the information and threats he'd been presented with. The guy was just standing there and watching.

Tarin's brows furrowed, he was thrown off and he hated contacting spirits when his mind wasn't all there. There wasn't much choice though, it was that or not show up at home for Lee.

Tarin gritted his teeth and looked up, locking eyes with the other man. He would take it, but not sitting down, "What do you think I do here?" He said, momentarily more insulted than afraid of the man's threats.

"All you had to do is ask dude. Your threats just make it hard to concentrate. Come in the back. I took a huge risk letting that guy show himself out here in the first place because I thought I was doing someone a favor. We'll talk about your wife when we get in back."

It was balzy, and risky, Tarin knew it as he made his way to the back of the shop...but he had to bank on the fact that the guy wanted to see his wife. Finding that out for sure and being able to find her were his only options.

Hunter was impressed that Tarin was seeming to keep it all together. Hunter had not threatened the man's life to scare him into helping him contact Katherin, but to let him know just who he was dealing with. It occured to him that perhaps he could have chosen a more subtle and tactful method of getting the severity of his intentions across. After all, Tarin here was a most intreguing mutant and Hunter would like to not kill him.

Hunter followed Tarin into the back and said, "Before we begin I would like to explain something. I only made the threat to let you know who you are dealing with. I have been alive for over four centuries and accumulated more power than potentially any other individual on the planet. Now, those facts are to remain secret. They do not leave this room. Now, if you can put me into contact with my wife you will be richly rewarded. Regardless of your usual payment I'll pay you one million dollars."

Now Hunter had shown both the carrot and the stick to Tarin. Work with Hunter and Tarin would end up significantly better off. Work against him and he would end up dead. Now, if Tarin was unable to make contact with the spirit of his wife Hunter wasn't going to hold it against him. After all, it had been a long time, it might not be possible. Were that the case Hunter would simply leave the man be.

Of course, having revealed what he had Tarin would now be under constant survalance, but unless he did anything to deliberatly disrupt Hunter he would not feel any reprucussions. Hoping that he had made the position clear to Tarin he waited for the man to begin.

OOC - I took some liberties, Hunter...I haven't had a chance to talk with you. IF anything I said is inaccurate or not okay just let me know and I'll change it asap. I also need to talk to you at some point before the end of the thread.

Four centuries, Tarin simply nodded curtly at the information. That would explain how the guy had managed to have a 200 year old wife. It was all still just a little too weird for him to grasp. Tarin had also thought that the mutant gene was a recent thing, something akin to the next step of human evolution. This guy threw a bit of a wrench in that idea...though Tarin supposed in the grand scheme of evolutionary time 400 years wasn't long at all.

"Fair enough." he said, this guy wanted all business, Tarin would give him all business. The guy went on to offer Tarin an insane amount of money and Tarin couldn't help himself, he started laughing.

"You know...sir...I keep trying to say this...but I'd have done what you're asking for the twenty bucks I charge everyone else." Yeah, he was laughing at a guy with some insane amount of power who'd threatened his life not a minute and a half before...what did it matter though...."and if I went around blabbing everything I knew and people really understood what I do is real, the line for this place would be wrapped ten times around the block. I don't want that any more than you do. My life is already too much like a carnival."

"Alright then...Katherin Oswald..." Tarin said, glancing around at the assembled spirits, face far more serious at this point than it had been previously.

There were people of all ages once again and Tarin frowned at the sheer number, not all of them were hostile though. Tarin sifted through, one after another until he found ad woman he assumed was dressed appropriately for her century and who wasn't radiating hate. Instead, the woman was radiating warm feelings, hesitation, and something else Tarin couldn't pinpoint. He wasn't an empath after all.

Tarin looked at the woman, "Katherine?" He asked, and she nodded her head slowly, choosing for the moment not to sleep. She was a particularly calm spirit, no begging or pleading from this one. Just acceptance, rather like the woman at the top of the Empire State Building. "Do you mind?" he asked again.

"Not at all." she said in a soft voice, and Tarin nodded, concentrating, probably even harder than he had on the man in the front of the shop. Slowly the woman became more and more visible and Tarin stepped backwards, clearing the path between the two. Turning his attention to his patron, whose name he was pretty sure was not Steve, Tarin said.

"She's not going to be completely solid...and from what I've seen before, she won't be able to really feel you either...she may also be quite limited in her emotional range. It never works the same twice."

That said, Tarin stepped back further and tried to make himself invisible. Despite the fact that the man had threatened his life, Tarin still felt awkward sitting in on this reunion.

Hunter listened to Tarin explain his own personal desire for secrecy. "While I understand that, your exposed secrect just makes your life more crazy, mine will screw up decades of work and result in a lot of people getting killed. I just wanted to impress that fact upon you."

He watched as the image of his wife began to fade into view. She was every bit as beutiful as he remembered. He thought back to the first day he saw her, the ball and the walk in the garden. It had been a turning point in the immortal's life. Now the woman responsible for the happiest time of his life was apearing before him.

"Katherin," Hunter said, his voice almost giving out. He'd completely forgotten that Tarin was in the room.

"Hunter," Katherin replied, a warm smile on her face, "It's been so long."

"It has," he replied, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Is that why you went back to your old ways?" she asked, stopping Hunter in his tracks, "I've seen the other spirits as they pass. You've killed more people e'd been hoping for a nice reunion, and possibly seeing his wife regularly through Tarin. Instead she'd attacked him, accusing him of decieving her in the past. Hunter had been true to his word when he married her, and not killed others.

"I... it was... I just..." Hunter was lost for words, he had no idea how to defend himself because she was right. He had gone back to his old ways once she had died. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry!?" Katherin said, anger creeping into her voice, "The moment I died you tore across Europe killing everyone in your path. At best you dismissied me at once and went on a killing spree to make up for lost time. At worst you never stopped killing. How could you do that!" Tears were now running freely down her face.

A single tear ran down Hunter's. He couldn't bear to hear any more. "Enough!" he roared, grabbing a table and hurling it at Katherin. Grabbing a full bookshelf he hurled it in Tarin's direction bellowing "Make it stop!" He was lost to a rage, the same rage that had gripped him upon Katherin's death and seen him carve a bloody path across Europe.

By this point, Tarin was doing everything he could to disappear. He considered pleading with one of the other spirits for a little help with that because he had a sinking feeling that being associated with this man was a bad idea...a very bad idea.

The woman spirit's voice pulled Tarin back to the situation at hand though and despite himself he couldn't pull his eyes away from the reunion as it occurred right in front of him.

Uh oh. The conversation was definitely going south. The woman was pissed, it didn't take long for Tarin to wish he'd have simply kept his mouth shut and acted like he couldn't do the things he could. Why did he have to go out of his way to try and help people? These were the things that always happened.

Returned to his old ways...another trained killer. Tarin could have pulled his hair out at the roots in frustration...he'd brought another killer into the shop. What if Lee had been there. The guy was getting pissed...then he got really pissed. The woman was crying and all of a sudden Tarn's table was flying.

That table was heavy...Tarin could hardly move it by himself and it had been one of his favorite pieces of furniture. Had been because it was now in pieces as it slammed into the ground.

Tarin shrunk back against the wall, hoping that in his tantrum the guy had forgotten he was there. He thought that it was a possibility, this was a tantrum for the ages, that was until the guy grabbed the bookshelf.

Tarin realized what was about to happen a split second before the huge bookshelf that took up half the wall came flying across the room. There was no time to get out of the way and all Tarin could do was throw up his arms as the mass of wood and paper flew at him.

The impact didn't hurt as much as Tarin would have thought it would. He heard a snap and there was a shock of pain that shot through his arm, but then the shelf hit full on and the back of his head slammed against the wall. Tarin didn't feel anything then, just saw a flash of light, then absolute darkness.

Completely oblivious to the things going on around him Tarin crumpled to the ground, the bookshelf tilted at an angle and dumping books out all over him.

With Tarin's consciousness had gone the spirit, and had he been conscious enough to hope, Tarin would have hoped that would drive off the man as well.

With the crash of the bookcase the spirit of Hunter’s wife vanished from view. Now she was gone Hunter began to calm down. Looking around he saw that Tarin had been hit by the bookshelf. Absentmindedly he pulled out his cheque book and wrote Tarin a cheque for a million dollars and tossed it onto the unconscious man as he replaced his shades and left the shop.

Once outside Hunter was still viewing things through a red haze. He’d been a terrible person over the last few centuries, but every now and then there had been a spark of humanity, a spark that had been given to him by Katherine. Today she’d torn that spark out.

Hunter walked down a back alley and was confronted by a trio of large men. “Hand over your cash and this won’t have to get ugly,” one threatened. Hunter hadn’t even stopped walking. Reaching the first he reached out with his left hand and snapped the man’s neck. Before the others could even react he had kicked one in the side of the head, causing it to cave in as it connected with the alley wall. Simultaneously he snatched the final assailant by the throat and tore it out.

Leaving the three men dead in the alley he calmly walked on, wiping the blood off his hand before exiting the alley. Hunter had left Tarin’s shop a different man. Before he had a streak of decency in him that had occasionally led him to do good deeds. He’d also had a hot temper, flaring up now and then. Now Hunter had a heart of stone. No longer would his temper flare, but now would he be motivated to do good deeds. He would now only act in ways that directly benefited him.

Apparently it was easier to come by an identity when you didn't care if that identity was under 21. Ghost had picked one her own age because she didn't care about drinking: she cared about learning. It also meant that she'd gotten to pick certain details about her identity. That actually would help her if she were ever questioned about it. She'd picked the name and a new birthday too, August 7, just to farther muddle her dad's trail. August 7th was the day of the star festival, the one day two clandestine star lovers were allowed to meet across the milky way. They were locked in epic legendary love, but forever separated except on the seventh day of that month.

Vega Altair. Ghost looked over the license, still not used to the name. It was like a movie star name except it was her picture on the plastic card. To her it was so obviously fake, but she couldn't help but love it. She was secretly an optimistic romantic. She'd stayed on the star theme: the names she chose were actually the Western names of two stars in the festival's legend. Sure it might have been a little cheesy, but to her it was perfect.

Today, Ghost had several errands to run. The first, picking up her new identity, had been taken care of already. Her next stop was the medium shop to let Garrett's boss, Tarin, know why Garrett hadn't been in to work in the last few days. Ghost had never met the man, but she'd heard good things and Garrett really didn't want the man to think ill of him for suddenly skipping. After her chat with Tarin, Ghost was going to swing by NYU campus to get her final bits of paper work filled out for who she was and where she was going to pay. Thank goodness for loans. Then she'd need to stop by the book store for her class materials. She hadn't even had time to stop and look for a real job yet. Maybe she could ask one of the administrators about job possibilities on campus.

Thoughts humming along pleasantly, Ghost had no idea of what she was about to step into. Or that she'd walked past an alleyway with several recently deceased corpses. She hummed pleasantly to herself as she stopped in front of the store. The blinds were drawn. She checked her wrist, forgetting that she didn't even own a watch. It seemed too early to be closed, but it was a privately owned establishment. She shrugged and tried the door. It opened easily and she stepped into the dimly lit room.

Her eyes adjusted to the scene slowly as her mind tried to make sense of the jumble. It was ... quiet. "H-hello?" She stepped gingerly over a pile of scattered books and onto a board that squished awkwardly.

She blinked. Squished?

Ghost jumped off of the pile and started digging frantically. Sure enough below the wreckage of the book shelf was a man she had to assume was Tarin.

She made sure he was breathing and then paniced. Should she call someone? Tarin was supposed to be a mutant, though... was he the kind that avoided hospitals? His head wound seemed to have bled a lot. Who knows how long he had been there, though the blood seemed tacky as if it were coagulated. She ran through her meager first aid knowledge as she tossed books and splinters of wood aside to fully dig him out. "Mister Tarin? Can you hear me?" When she didn't get an immediate response she dodged around the room looking for a phone or cellphone or emergency contact number... something... anything... wasn't there another person who worked at this store?

She didn't think she could.. or even should move him. What if he had a neck injury? that was bad wasn't it? and his arm - that amount of bruising wasn't normal. But then again having a bookshelf on top of your head wasn't normal either. Ghost fumbled around behind the counter near the register looking for some kind of hint or first aid kit... anything to help.