It was one of those sodden days of winter when the snow had melted just enough to turn into polluted slush, but still remained cold enough that a wrong step on the ice would cause you to lose your footing. Winter had finally decided to strike New York in full force at Christmas, and there still was the remnants of three days worth of snow wherever you turned. That classic song "Winter Wonderland" seemed to be talking about Central Park and the horse drawn carriages. The whole world just grows quieter when snow falls.

And having spent a better part of the day trudging through a world going soft, Sledge was looking forwards to spring. Scratch that, he thought, one hand digging into the collar of his soaked leather jacket. Some slush from an awning had fallen there and slowly was melting. Bring me summer. Spring is nowt but thawing winter. The British con man normally did not mind a bit of cold weather. As a kid he ran about the streets of Bradford with not much more than a jumper and his trousers. He had stood in temperatures below zero Celsius without a shiver, watching his breath float up and away like the smoke from a cigarette. Only when the cold was combined with being wet that he hated this sort of weather.

His jacket was not the only thing to have gained extra weight with an abundance of water. Sledge didn't own a pair of boots suited to this weather, and his feet were more than a little soggy. Of course his mum's nagging kept reminding him to keep his feet dry in the cold months echoed in his mind, but right now there wasn't much he could do about it. Hair dripping, ear tips and cheeks a bright rose hue, Sledge opened the golden doors to the Sanctuary. The luncheon hour had long since passed, along with dinner, but he could at least grab a cuppa tea to help thaw him out before going back to his apartment. Changes were happening in the Sanctuary, and he intended to find out all he could of what was going on.

As much as he had gathered thus far, the head position of the Order, (an organization that, according to his little blackmailer, was meant to remain under-wraps) was either shifting to someone else, or had been opened up into more of a lassiez fair ruling. Such a change may mean that Kaitlyn no longer would be able to turn him into immigration. Especially if she was able to spend more time with her mum. Kaitlyn was still young, easily distracted. A power shift also meant that his standing could move up higher, should he observe all things and play the right cards.

Such thoughts filled his mind as he went to the mostly empty cafeteria and headed straight to the thermoses of coffee. Tea usually wasn't an option for the Brit, as ironic as it may sound. Whenever he was sick as a child his mum, or da, or on a rare occasion, Charlie, would hand him a cuppa that had some lemon and honey in it. Coffee gave him the caffeine boast that he needed, usually because of his erratic sleeping patterns. However, cold and shivering he granted permission to drink the classic, and admittedly cliche hot beverage. Let his food habits be ironic in other ways.

“Hey, Sledge.” Kaitlyn shuffled into the kitchen in pajama bottoms and a hooded sweater, eyes puffy and red, hair a tangled mess. “Heat up a cup of milk; I’m gonna make hot chocolate.” She smirked. She wasn’t asking. It was nice to have somebody around who was technically lower on the totem pole than she was. Or, at least somebody she felt she could intimidate into doing her bidding.

Plus, something hot and delicious to drink would really hit the spot about now. She rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, looking for the cocoa powder and marshmallows she needed. Anything that didn’t involve sleeping would be great, really, but hot chocolate couldn’t hurt. It’s hard to have a nightmare while being awake and drinking hot chocolate.

“Heat it y’self,” Sledge grumbled at his tormentor, “I‘ve frozen meself out there and I‘m ‘aving a cuppa.” He was willing to bet that Kaitlyn wasn’t going to blow the whistle on him for so minor an action. Why risk sending him away? She looked as though she had been on a bender, whatever the child equivalent of that would be. The combination of her pajamas and bed hair made him look at the cold metal around his wrist. It was a later hour than he had anticipated, but Sledge doubted that this was Kaitlyn’s usual bedtime. Warm milk would be soothing, but hot chocolate this late at night was only going to rot her teeth. Sledge wasn’t going to tolerate any lip from a girl who had a curfew. Not when he was drenched to the bone and had ice still melting down the back of his shirt.

As though to prove he wasn’t going to jump at her orders Sledge drank greedily at his tea. Tea had such a familiar and comforting taste to it, and he could feel the heat trickle down his throat, pooling in his gut, and taking the worst of the cold bite out of him. Now it was his turn to give the arrogant smile, and that was an expression that he was well versed in. Oh, Sledge knew that Kaitlyn was telling him what to do, and he knew that he had a bribe for her in his pocket, but this time he wasn’t going to give her anything but grief. She might just be a little kid, but she was turning out to be just as wicked as him. The teacup was spun slowly in his hands as he tried to draw some of the warmth from it into his fingertips. No over exertion of his mutation today, but his hands felt nearly as useless as if he had. Fingerless gloves were excellent at keeping your palms warm, but they did very little for anything past that first knuckle. Cold might have robbed his fingertips from their sensitivity, but he could still move his hands well enough.

The cup of tea was placed down so that he might take his hat off. As usual, the man could not resist the urge to play with it, flipping the hat by the brim over his hand where he gently deposited it near his tea. Having his hair drip in his eyes was both bothering him, and probably was not the most sanitary for his brew. The crown of his head was mostly dry thanks to the fedora, further proof in Sledge’s mind that one should never underestimate the importance of a hat, but with the wet and the wind his mop was tangled almost as bad as Kaitlyn’s. Fingers sorted through the hair, trying to restore some sort of semblance to it’s normal style.

Tea was all well and good, though if he really wanted to warm up sufficiently for the walk home, Sledge was going to need to get some hot nash into him. A sarnie was simple enough to make, but cold cuts do not exactly say “welcome in from the storm”. Toasties were in order. Large thick toasties that a doctor would frown upon. “Anna’m hungry,” he challenged as further proof that he was not going to get out of his seat, where he had just started to feel comfortable and almost human again, just to cater to the whims of a child he had no guardianship or responsibilities to. Iffin she wanted hot cocoa, she would either have to go without the warm milk, or get a saucepan and start it up herself. By twelve years old you should at least know how to safely put the kettle on.

Well, wasn’t that something? Sledge must’ve grown a pair while Kaitlyn wasn’t paying attention.

She giggled to herself. It had been months since the Oracle had called off all his plans. The blackmail had been completely unnecessary for the last several months, and the threats had meant nothing ever since Sledge started making himself reasonably useful to the Order.

Kaitlyn closed a cabinet, smirking, a bag of marshmallows and a packet of cocoa mix in hand. “I was wondering when you’d stop letting me boss you around.” It was nice while it lasted, but this wouldn’t stop her from being amused that it lasted as long as it did. She grabbed a mug from another cabinet, a gallon of milk from the refrigerator. At some point in the process, she noticed how soggy, cold, and miserable Sledge looked. Weather outside was supposed to suck that night, if she remembered right.

“So, what’s up?” He probably had to have a good reason to walk all the way from his apartment to the Sanctuary. Kaitlyn couldn’t honestly say that she cared about that reason, but she’d rather think about that than the stuff she just woke up from. Hopefully, it would involve cool Order stuff.

Kaitlyn more or less said that she had been leading him on, playing him as the fool, by not letting him know that he was no longer stuck under her thumb. Not entirely accurate he felt, given that the only thing that had changed since then had been one less child giving orders. Technically Kaitlyn could still order him to do things, seeing as he was a part of her mum’s secret society. He didn’t intend to be a part of any of this. It wasn’t as though he had heard about the Sanctuary in England, let alone the Order. Just the name of it brought to mind childish play in the garden. All things considered, Sledge probably knew a good deal more about the Order than was healthy for a bloke. Since there wasn’t much that Kaitlyn could bribe him into staying loyal and a part of this society, for the security of the Order she would be better off blackmailing him. His mouth had gotten him into this position where Kaitlyn had dirt on him, but he was going to be wise and not point out that she still could technically continue her exploitation of him.

“What can I say? You are rather intimidating,” Sledge said flatly. Oh he knew what Kaitlyn was capable of power wise. That dream that had been so real provided him with more insight than what it meant to have a conscience His dream had her blowing up New York City, as powerful as one of those nuclear weapons. The force that the anklebitter could exhibit he reckoned was stronger than the best of his punches. That, not the girl who could do it, was the thing to be worried over. She certainly could put an interesting new twist on the phrases “explosive personality” and “firey redhead.”
the most threatening part of Kaitlyn was her age. She was still young enough that the consequences of her actions could be hard to fully grasp. When you're young like that, you don't worry about what you've done to others, only what punishment you were going to get. Speaking of which, Sledge's dream might have given him a little more resources to change his situation. “I'm sure your Mum would be pleased to know what you're capable of.”

Yes, the Brit's other young employer had backed of his plans, and yes, Sledge had created rather simple maps of the Sanctuary that he had planned on giving to him. Those maps had been a source of pain in his dream. On a daily basis they had gnawed at him, until, at last, he wasn't able to deal with it anymore. All his careful calculations and measured drawings were destroyed. No evidence remained of his work as a cartographer, so nobody had to know what he had been planning. “I was networking, doing a little business negotiations.” Sledge spared a glance at his companion, taking another sip at his tea. Next cup he would let steep longer. “An yeh? Innit past yeh bedtime?”

At the mention of her ‘mum,’ Kaitlyn stopped what she was doing to give Sledge a death glare. She didn’t like his tone of voice. Either the pair Sledge just developed was a bit too big for his own good, or he lived under a large rock somewhere in Order territory. And that comment about her ‘bed time’ was just patronizing enough to indicate the former.

“I had trouble sleeping. And I don’t have a ‘bedtime,’” she snapped. The girl was agitated, but she couldn’t think of anything appropriately insulting to answer Sledge’s transgression. She poured some milk in her cup and put it in the microwave. Four obnoxious beeping noises rang out as she pressed its buttons: one, zero, zero, start. It whirred to life.

“If you bring up Lori again…” Her voice trailed off when she realized how crazy she would sound, threatening to kill him just for mentioning her former adoptive mother. Even if she was only half-serious. “… well, just don’t.”

"Tha' chocolate won't 'elp yeh none," Sledge said, pointing to the mug of confectionary hot beverage that Kaitlyn was removing from the microwave, "Or is tha' what you're aiming for?" Bloody hell, that better not be it. At her best, Kaitlyn frustrated Sledge with her lies shaky foundations, but after she finished her little late night snack she had best go back to bed. Not because she was young and needed the sleep. Rest was important to the health of anyone, but especially to those who were still growing. No, Sledge wanted, no, needed Kaitlyn to sleep because he didn't want to have to deal with a cranky version of her.

At the name of her mother Sledge arched an eyebrow. Hearing her say a name that would probably only be said by another adult was suspicious. He might not always respect the values and rules that his parents had, but his mum was never called anything but "Mum". Something didn't seem right about Kaitlyn calling her Lori. "She's not really your mother is she." It wasn't a question. Sledge was confident that he had read the situation right. If Kaitlyn was trying to threaten him for just mentioning her, then she wouldn't be calling her mother by the first name. It had been the kind of fierce devotion that any kid would have to their parent, and not that casual first name basis that seemed to be the trend of parents who want to be their child's friend.

"Shite," he said, turning towards his tea and studying it thoughtfully. This was like his dream all over again. He was stuck with another kid that had lost their parent. And once again the preteen he was stuck with was suffering from insomnia because of their missing parent. In his dream he had left Chase by becoming a fighter in the Pit. There wasn't anything like that he could do here. He worked in the same building that the kid lived in, knew the same sort of people. Kaitlyn was simply unavoidable.

“Warm milk makes you sleep better. Duh.” Didn’t Sledge know that? Kaitlyn knew that.

She also knew that chocolate had stuff in it that was kind of like caffeine. And she was just remembering this. But she was already committed to the idea of hot chocolate, so that’s what she was going to have. She wasn’t about to admit that Sledge was right about anything.

>>"She's not really your mother is she. Shite."

Except maybe for that. Kaitlyn was silent for a moment, staring at the floor, making a concerted effort at not-crying. Luckily for Sledge, Kaitlyn didn’t think she could express anger at the moment without letting some crying slip through, and she wasn’t going to risk that by following up on any vague threats. Her poker face held up.

“You didn’t know?” She asked with a hint of ridicule.” I don’t look anything like her. She adopted. Then… I guess she just sorta stopped caring and ran off.” The last part came out like a sigh. It was more than she’d really wanted to bring up, but she’d started saying it before she had time to think.

The microwave continued to hum in the background.

"Tha' chocolate will rot your teeth though," Sledge lectured Kaitlyn. Briefly he wondered what sort of dental plan was offered by the Order. Of course he wouldn't ask it out loud. People around the Sanctuary were use to sights such as a mutant with half their face, but to hear a British bloke ask about dental care. Sledge was well aware that his front teeth were a hair too long, and it gave him a somewhat comical grin. He never claimed to have a perfect mouth, and his parents weren't able to afford corrective dental work when he was a young'in.

She took his realization hard, and Sledge winced. It wasn't his place to pry into family affairs, and it probably wasn't a good idea to curse around a youth. "It's not as though I ever saw her around you. Iffin you remember, it wasn't your mum who was giving me my marching orders. I believe tha' was you." It was true as well. Sledge had taken most of his orders directly from Kaitlyn, having only working knowledge of who Kaitlyn's mother was. "And looks don't dictate family bonds. Me brother Charlie's blonde and blue eyed and me? Well, iffin I'm the black sheep of my family, then at least I've got the looks to match."

She was dangerously close to crying, an action neither one wanted to happen. Her, he wagered, for whatever sense of pride and maturity she wanted to cling to, and for him it was a weakness of his. Sledge would not win any awards for father of the year, nor even for a guardian, or say, a tutor. Those younger than him were an annoyance to him because he simply had no clue what to do with them. "Did you think tha' maybe there's another reason why she hasn't come back yet?"

Kaitlyn didn’t say anything for a while.

She’d thought of a hundred different reasons why Lori could have disappeared. She could have been kidnapped or murdered by anyone in a long list of powerful people who might have a reason to want her gone and the ability to make it happen. Thinking about it that way just made Kaitlyn feel worse. If Lori decided for herself to leave, that would mean she’d betrayed Kaitlyn and everyone else in the Order, which was bad. But if Lori had been killed or kidnapped and nobody else in the Order cared enough to do anything about it except for Kaitlyn, that would make Kaitlyn feel like the entire Order was betraying her.

The microwave beeped. Her milk was ready.

“…I guess she coulda been kidnapped or killed or something,” she said eventually, shrugging, her voice hollow. “We’re not gonna waste time trying to find out more, though.”

When she took her milk out, she slammed the microwave shut a lot harder than she strictly needed to. It’d be better if she could keep acting like Lori left by herself. Less anger, fewer explosions to clean up after. If it was Lori’s fault, she wouldn’t have to be reminded of it every time she walked through the Sanctuary and saw another Order member.

“Let’s talk about something more cheerful. Hear about that gargoyle kid who the police beat the crap out of?” She started mixing the milk and cocoa powder a little more vigorously than she ought to, making a small mess in the process. She could clean up her mess later.

It was glaringly obvious that Kaitlyn did not want to further discuss her adoptive mother, or her sudden disappearance. Had she just grown tired of hearing people tell her over and over not to worry? Or was it that she had been told a truth that she didn't want to hear? David wasn't going to press it any further. He wasn't concerned over the welfare of her mum. Her absence was causing enough confusion that things were easier on the Brit. Blessed with tact as he was, David chose not to tell this to Kaitlyn.

"Her name is Gina," Sledgehammer corrected Kaitlyn, frowning into his cup of tea. He'd seen the news report on the telly, and read about it in the newspaper. She wasn't just a name said on the nightly report, but the one who had helped him to get those bribes for little Kaitlyn. At the time Gina had struck him as a little silly, what with her swooning at his accent, but on the whole someone who honestly innocent and trusting.

The brutality towards a girl that Sledgehammer thought of as not bad bothered him more than the absence of the one who was suppose to be running this ship. There was a way to survive without Lori, it was being acted out even as he thawed himself. There wasn't, in his mind, any reason for the gargoyle girl he convinced to get her ears pierced to have been beaten up badly enough that she needed hospitalization.

“Yeah, Gina Schuyler. I go to the same school as her, now. She seems like a real goodie two-shoes, to me.” Too much of a goodie two-shoes to get on the cops’ bad side for a legitimate reason, as far as she could tell.

Then again, Kaitlyn never spoke a word to her in her life. But she had an eerie feeling that the gargoyle girl was familiar, as though she knew her before she’d seen her on the news or in the ViewTube videos. Must have been that future dream nonsense messing with her head again.

The redhead took a sip of her hot chocolate. It was a bit hot, and needed more marshmallows. She popped some directly from the bag into her mouth before putting a handful in her cup.

With distaste Sledgehammer watched Kaitlyn pop some marshmallows in her mouth before adding even more to her hot chocolate. There was nothing wrong with a bit of sweetness to your hot beverages, but surely the chocolate flavor was enough to coat the inside of anyone's mouth with a layer of stickingly sweet mucus. “You might think of her that way, but you would do well to get close to her.” If nothing else it would provide him with insight to his former blackmailer's mind. Armed with such knowledge David could further keep improving his position at the Sanctuary. Knowledge was dangerous and powerful, and it was Sledgehammer's intention to arm himself with as much of it as possible.

“I'm sure that yeh've learned a thing or two about extortion,” Sledgehammer said, standing up at last. His cup of tea had been drunk, and it was time to get either a second cup, something to eat, or both. He headed over to the refrigerator and took out some margarine, cheese, and a few sliver thin slices of ham. Tea and toasties, the doctor's recipe for feeling warm and cozy. “Be all nice like to her. You might ind she's quite useful to yeh, and with those 'goodie two-shoes', you do them a favor or two and they automatically put themselves in debt to you.”

Something felt wrong about taking advantage of the girl who became a national incident by getting the crap beaten out of her. But more often than not, Kaitlyn knew, those feelings could stop you from recognizing a really good idea when you see one. And Gina could probably be useful to an Order-type like her.

After a few quiet moments, the girl nodded. “I hadn’t even thought about that.” Sledge was a lot smarter than Kaitlyn gave him credit for. Even though he’d revealed this to her numerous times already, she kept slipping back into a pattern of not respecting him.

A sip of cocoa. Then, “Wait… what do you think should I do with her, once she’s all in debt to me?”

"Of course you haven't. You're young still, and your mind can think of only so much without an outsider's perspective," Sledgehammer said, prepping the bread for his toastie by spreading the margarine on it. For as harsh as the words may be construed, he hadn't meant to be entirely cold to her. You just naturally are more depended upon the input of adults when you are younger. There's just this need to trust that someone who is older knows more. That is, of course, until the alarm goes off in puberty and suddenly anyone older than you knows nothing.

"Get her in your debt and you could use her for just about anything." He scrounged around, trying to find a frying pan that was both clean, and not of size for cooking as if for a catered event. In his own kitchen he was capable of finding things without a problem. His time could be better spent on other things than fumbling about to make a meal. Efficiency and order dictated the contents of his flat. "But, seeing your age, I'd try to get her to tell you things others wouldn't normally. Adults tend to sugar coat things for anklebiters, or they just leave out things all together. Who knows what knowledge she's privy to that you aren't."

Victorious, Sledgehammer spinned the frying pan's handle in his hand the way that a tennis player would their racket. The pan was still large enough that a few more sarnies could be cooked on it, but the important thing was that it was clean. Smiling he dropped it onto the range and lit it up. His bread would have to wait until the pan got hotter. "She may also get you into places that others would find suspicious for you to go on your own. People question when a kid goes to a horror movie on their own, but with an adult nobody bats an eye."