'He's a wizard!'

That's the word they had used to describe the man. A 'wizard'. Harlan was pretty confident there was no magic in this world, unless the magic was genetic, so every time someone mentioned some other person had outstanding ability in one area or another, Harlan always suspected if there was more than met the eye.

He was driving on his way to this wizard's 'magic tower'. Namely, his car shop, which was a little away from the city. Among Harlan's customers, there were many insurance companies and he had befriended several people in the business, so more than one of them had told him 'Jacob's Car Shop' could work magic on an engine and now that his car needed a tune up, he decided to kill two birds with one stone, and figure out if there was something more to the 'wizardry' attributed to the owner or just simple mad skillz.

Harlan's blue Ford Focus sedan entered slowly into the shop. There were some cars getting worked on and lots of junk in the back, giving the place that distinct metallic grey and black hues carshops and junkyards usually got. The man parked the car, opened the door and got out, wearing a wrinkled, old faded grey t-shirt promoting a concert from two years ago, an old jacket with some evident wear and tear and faded jeans. He wanted to look very average joe, though the car didn't look the part that well, since he kept it very clean, in good condition and it was just a year old.

He jingled his keys, looking around as he approached the desk, hoping to meet the owner and not one of the assistants.

"Hello?" he let out, a bit on the loud side.

Jacob was enjoying a good book, this one called The Host by Stephanie Meyer… the one who wrote the Twilight books. He didn’t really care for the movies, but he enjoyed the books, and decided to give this one a fair shot. One of the nice things about his ability, his passive sensor could detect someone’s vehicle approaching, so when the small sedan pulled into the parking lot, he considered it for a moment. Looking on one of the screens, he saw a young man getting out of the car and approaching the shop, and he immediately found a bookmark, slid it in to hold his place, and put his book down. Stepping towards the door that led to the stairs that connected his home to the shop, he took a quick glance, didn’t see any stains on his tan combat boots, blue jeans or T-Shirt, and moved down the stairs, emerging from a door behind the front desk. Closing the door behind him, he didn’t worry about the fact that he had been a bit loud, as Regan wasn’t here today, her day off, which meant he was working the front desk.

“Hello Sir. What can I do for you?” A simple enough request, concise and to the point. The man had his keys out, so it was probably a work order. It was Tuesday… and no one had walked in for anything other than their appointments so far. Two mechanics were in the shop, busy on those cars, so that left himself to take care of this gentleman. The large man liked that though… a non-scheduled maintenance was always more interesting because he didn’t know what to expect, and that made it a slight bit more challenging. He needed that too… working on simple oil changes all day could get really boring.

"Just a tune up, it's pretty much due. There's also a noise that pops up when I do sharp turns to the right, but it doesn't happen all the time" Harlan said to the man coming out to greet him. "Are you Jacob?"

The place was Called Jacob's Car Shop, so asking for 'Jacob' was a friendlier way of figuring out if the man owned the place or not. He wanted to play the friendly, 'I'm-just-like-you' sort and not build this respectful, customer-mechanic relationship. Revealing things like mutations was usually something that happened on a personal level and it usually demanded trust, talking, similar experiences in life and maybe after a while, he'd confess if his skill was something more than just that.

Then again, there was a quicker approach.

"I'm Harlan, nice to meetcha" he said, extending his hand and expecting a firm handshake.

Jacob liked to consider himself someone who is able to notice fine details, and the man seemed to have some kind of scar not only on his neck but on his wrists. Still, not wanting to pry, he would not say a word or make any indication that he had noticed such details. Already though, his respect for the man had increased, as he actually had provided his hand to shake his own… instead of Jacob having to be the one that always offered and more often than not, refused in the introductory gesture. “Indeed I am,” he said simply, confirming that he was indeed Jacob… which made him wonder. He was here either because someone had referred him, or he had some other business dealing with his shop as a whole.

There had been three people in the past few months that had come and tried to buy out his shop. Considering that it was paid off and there was no real drawbacks or need for their money… he politely declined, wanting to keep his business just that… his business. He was officially the local mechanic for both USAA insurance holders and State Farm… meaning that business was swarming… he had more jobs than he knew what to do with, and it was starting to take a toll. The money was great, but he needed to start hiring more mechanics. “I don’t suppose you’re here to apply to be one of my mechanics, are you?”’ he asked, shaking the man’s hand firmly, but not to the point of pain.

Harlan noticed that Jacob noticed.

As an actor, he was used to looking at people's eyes, since sometimes the eyes gave more clues to a person's disposition than their face would. They were also good for telling when a fellow actor had forgotten his lines or for guessing what they were looking at. The few times he had met people who noticed his 'cuts' and then talked to them about it, the first impression they usually got was that Harlan had tried to commit suicide at some point in his life. Jacob gave no indication of thinking such things, confirming his identity instead and then asking him if he was applying for a job. Apparently, the 'average joe' look had worked quite well.

Harlan grasped the man's hand and here he thought over his next step. For an instant, he felt tempted to go "GAAH! My hand!" and then have it pop off his arm, but he had an inkling feeling that such an approach would actually sour Jacob's disposition, and yet, showing off his mutation was the quickest way of getting where he wanted to go, speeding through the whole 'building trust' process. Then again, he could always show his true nature in a less shocking manner.

"I'm not" he answered, giving one firm shake and then letting the hand go without any shenanigans. "I work closely with some insurance companies and they all speak wonders of the place, specially of you. They say you're a true wizard when it comes to engines" he said, starting off with a compliment without sounding too much like a suck up. In his business, compliments helped pave the way to getting a flurry of questions answered. "How long have you been a mechanic? Did it take a long time to pick up the skills or was it more of a... natural talent?"

Jacob noticed that the man held onto his hand a half second longer than he expected, as he was already letting go and the man still had his hand… meaning he was in the midst of considering something. Had he noticed that Jacob had seen his scars? It was very possible that he was in the midst of dealing with someone who was inquiring information… and was watching him the way Jacob watched just about everyone. Keeping that possibility in mind, but also noting that he could very well be wrong, he decided to wait and see what happened and keep his guard up mentally just a little bit.

He spoke about how he worked with insurance companies, and that was how he had come to learn of the shop, and that made sense, he supposed. Perhaps he was from one of them to find out if his shop was worth their recommendation or the praise that it got… but that idea went almost completely out of the window when he all but asked if Jacob was a mutant. This man could easily be someone who wanted to find out if he was a mutant and was somehow using his ability to scam people… or perhaps he was a mutant hater? A recruiter for a gang? Anything was possible… in fact, the Mafia idea popped up in his head, after all, he did talk about ‘insurance’.

Too bad the man wouldn’t be able to force him to do ANYTHING he didn’t want to… but he would play along for now.

“I started working on different stuff ever since I can remember. I think my Dad said I was taking apart his lawn mower when I was six. It’s what I like to do, so I excel at it.” The most direct version of indirect answering he could provide. It would suffice though, and his tone was still perfectly smooth, his body language ‘relaxed’ but his mind on edge, ready to act like a hammer ready to strike the primer of a bullet… and Jacob was twice as lethal as any bullet. He hoped though that he wouldn't have to prove that true.

"At age six!? That's impressive!" he said, feigning surprise and making it sound like another compliment. "At that age kids barely know their way around a screw and it's usually a big, plastic, toy screw!"

There was no set age for mutation to strike. Sometimes kids were born that way, other times, they'd lived their humanity long enough till puberty struck and the gene got kickstarted and other times, the mutation laid hidden, waiting for a fateful moment to strike and get activated.

His mind immediately flashbacked to the sight of a katana blade, coming down at his arms, slicing through like his wrists weren't even there. Every time he felt stressed or worried, nightmares of that day would still pop up in his mind with different results. Sometimes his mutation never kicked in and he bled all over the place until he died, other times, they hacked him up to pieces, again and again, until he just couldn't assemble himself together.

Harlan shook his head, noticing he had lost track of the conversation and decided to get this 'are you a mutant?' stage over with. If the man was just a curious mind with a knack for machines, then fine, he'd probably just spook him a little or might get himself kicked out of the shop if he was a hater as well, but if the man was a mutant, then this 'show you mine if you show me yours' approach might bear fruits.

He looked around, trying to discern if his other mechanics were busy and not watching, and once he noticed they weren't paying any attention, he grabbed his right hand with his left one.

"Can't say I'm that inclined to taking apart things" he mentioned, as he pulled a little and the blueish glow of his lid portals became obvious, his hand separating from his wrist just a couple of inches, then quickly snapping them back in place. "Unless it's my own body. It's a gift I've had for a while, though not since age six" he added. "Would you say your 'gift' with engines and lawnmowers is a lot like my own?"

Jacob could hear just a hint of something in his voice as he exclaimed his amazement at his ability… sarcasm maybe? Or perhaps he was just trying to ham him up a bit… either way, it was false in some way… but some people were like that… that was simply the way some people communicated, but Jacob didn’t care for it. He wouldn’t hold it against him or anything, because he didn’t expect trust or respect from the man yet, but hypothetically, if he did know Jacob, he would certainly be rubbing him the wrong way. He gained a little bit of a glaze to his eyes for a moment, something he knew as recalling a bad memory, one he had seen in countless soldiers who had seen the real hell of combat.

He then gave a demonstration of his ability, and he didn’t seem shock or startled at all, simply looking at it and pondering for a moment. Certainly an interesting ability… hell, it could be useful for someone in his line of work. Get your hands in a place where your arm couldn’t get to, or have it in such a way to catch bolts as they fell… very interesting… but not something that immediately brought him trust. This man could still be anyone, capable of wanting something from Jacob, and when he asked his next question, finally coming forward and asking what he had been hinting at, he leveled his eyes and stared into the eyes of Harlan. “Even if I was, Sir, I can’t say I would trust you enough to tell you. Why?”

It was simple, concise and to the point… he didn’t trust him, and a lot of that had to do with the fact that he had beat around the bush… but if he gave a good reason for wanting to know, then he might be more inclined to share that information. But as it stood right now, he didn’t… a million things were running through his mind, but his face showed nothing but calm and collected passiveness.

...Aaand it all came back to trust, it seemed. The man was a stonewall, who kept his emotions well hidden, but even showing no reaction was a reaction in and of itself. Not every person would stay calmed and collected after seeing another man pop his hand off and then putting it back in place. It took a very special kind of 'I've seen all sorts of crazy things in my life' to take such a display in stride. This was actually a good sign, the only problem was, Harlan felt he had gotten on the man's bad side. He had given Jacob his name, but he was being given the 'sir' treatment already.

Sliding a hand behind his back, he produced a wallet and from it he pulled a business card which he offered to Jacob.

"I'm a private eye, nothing less and nothing more" he said, knowing full well that that wasn't enough. He needed to 'give' information and in his line of work he was much more used to getting it, not giving it. "I work with insurance companies, banks, lawyers, but I've been branching out lately and trying to take on cases that involve mutation. In this business however, one of the greatest assets a mutant can have is contacts" he said, now starting to get to the point. "It's difficult to find contacts, when they're trying to hide from persecution, so you probably understand why I'm being cautious with whom I tell" he said glancing back again at Jacob's mechanics who were still not paying attention, "and whom I don't."

He clasped his hands together, leaving the card in Jacob's posession, with his name, telephones and company address. "My car does need a tune up and someone to check on that 'turning to the right' noise. If you suddenly find you turn out to be something more than just a mechanic, let me know. We could be talking business" he offered.

Jacob’s muscles unconsciously coiled as the man reached behind his back, and although he didn’t move, his breathing slowed for just a moment as he prepared to instinctively act if the man tried to threaten him in any way. He resumed his normalcy immediately upon seeing the card, flawlessly transitioning from preparing to break his hand and disabling him to casually standing there, and if you weren’t paying close attention, you wouldn’t even realize anything happened at all. He carefully accepted the card, reading over the information and considering this. Most people wouldn’t go through this much trouble… he would hear the man out at least, truly consider what he had to say.

Private Eye set his mind on edge slightly, but it wasn’t all that far off in his own mind… but he didn’t make any comment, waiting for the man to provide more information. He did, and he wondered if his initial analysis was correct about the Insurance Companies auditing his work or something else of that nature. He waited for him to finish though, and considered it for a moment. On one hand, he could certainly understand the man’s position, assuming everything he said was true… and perhaps he could give the man a glimpse of a chance to prove it. He would hint around a bit more, and see where it led.

“You will have to forgive me… a Private Eye who works for insurance company visiting my shop and asking if I was a mutant. Add it up, and it sounds like some higher up trying to find out if I am suspected of foul play.” He paused letting the man understand his words, then took a deep breath, glancing once towards the shop door himself. “I am a mutant… my ability allows me to figure out what is wrong with anything mechanical.” He didn’t tell the man everything yet… he would see how he reacted to this information and judge his trustworthiness from there.

Excellent! Harlan was pretty much playing his last hand and from here it was pretty much go back to the office and hope for a phone call, but after having identified himself properly and leaving the door open to business, Jacob decided to play along.

His hesitation was understandable. Harlan himself preferred to use suits and long sleeved shirts whenever he dealt with human clients, specially if there was any suspicion of them being mutant haters. Jacob was worried that Harlan's 'insurance' connections were more trouble than they were worth. His mutation however turned out to be a curious one and Harlan sort of suspected it. The detective only had very vague information and the 'wizard' moniker to work with, but if the man excelled with engines and fixing cars, then his mutation probably had something to do with it. When he revealed it was 'anything mechanical', that sort of opened the compass to other things besides cars.

"No harm done, I understand and I've even been there myself" he said, regarding the man's apologies, but his curiosity soon got the best of him and Harlan immediately switched to 'question' mode. "What does anything mechanical imply? More than just cars? All sorts of machinery? Clocks? Computers? Can you tell what's wrong with a machine without having even seen it before? How does that work?..."

Harlan suddenly paused, realizing that he had asked too much and hoped the barrage wouldn't put Jacob in another reticent mood, but the man's abilities showed promise. He had taken cases that involved insurance fraud and car crashes before. Could Jacob tell if a car had been tampered with? If any machine had been tampered with? There was a lot of potential in making friends with a man of his talents, no doubts about it. The question was, would Jacob want to make friends with a man like Harlan?

Jacob regarded the man with a simple nod at first, but he quickly became more passive as the barrage of questions hit him like a ‘Fire for Effect’ artillery strike. As he stopped himself Jacob smirked slightly… he knew people like him before… asking questions non-stop, curiosity driven, knowledge mongers. It was fine, honestly, but it could easily get him in trouble if talking to the wrong person. “Well your certainly used to asking questions, I’ll give you that. Hang on.” That said, he moved to the door leading to the shop and popped it open real quick. There was only one other mechanic present at the moment, but it wasn’t time to close yet. “Hey Joe. I’m going to run upstairs for a bit, buzz me if you need me, but when you get done with that, put this guys car in the bay and head home, OK?” The mechanic looked up from his current project, smiling at the aspect of an early day off of work. “You got it, boss.”

He looked to Harlan for his keys, and once provided, he tossed them to Joe, and then moved towards one of two doors behind the counter. Pulling out a single key, he unlocked it, opened it, and waited for his guest to proceed up the stairs to his home’s living room. “A little more privacy…” he said, closing the door behind him. His home was the second level of the shop, which made tax season interesting when he claimed the shop/home combo… he actually had to show the guy who did his taxes the first time in order to prove he wasn’t pulling the wool over his eyes. As he ascended the stairs, it would open up to the entryway where shoes were removed typically. Once there, an open doorway led to the living room, it having a large microswead couch facing multiple mounted television, most were little 17” TV’s, each displaying a feed from the security footage of his very cleverly concealed security cameras. Jacob immediately flipped them on once he got upstairs so he could keep an eye on things… but the six small mounted TV’s were dwarfed by a 50” LED television in the middle.

There was also two matching chairs on either side of the couch, and one of them looked particularly flattened, as it was one that he used the most. He moved to the chair instinctively and guestured towards the couch, inviting him to sit. “You want anything to drink?” he asked, moving towards the attached kitchen that was behind it and was open, everything visible from the living room. After he poured himself a glass of Vitamin D milk, and anything for his guest if requested beside alcohol, he sat in his chair and looked at Harlan directly in the eyes, a sign that he respected the man and also his way of insuring what he was hearing was true.. “So, before I answer anything that you are grilling me for, I need to know more of why you want to know… the whole truth.” It was that simple… because there was more to this inquiry than what had been explained so far, and he wasn’t cooperating until he had all the pieces to the puzzle.

There was nothing that could tell you more about a man than the place they called home. Jacob led Harlan upstairs, where he lived, right above his own shop. That meant he was a practical man, much more interested in things working out for him and being comfortable than in looks, status or luxuries. Either that, or he just liked saving a lot of money on gas or commuting.

The way he had furnished his living room also revealed something about his character. Six TV's? Harlan didn't even see any of the cameras downstairs. Was it a lack of trust in his employees or clients? Simple paranoia, or maybe a need to have control over everything that belonged to him? Maybe both, he was probably a man who likes to be in control and doesn't like surprises to catch him unawares.

"Juice, thank you" he said, when offered something to drink. He noticed on the open fridge that there was milk, water, orange juice... but no liquor. That reinforced his belief that Jacob liked control. Maybe he didn't like losing it from getting drunk, maybe he had quit years ago from having lost control at some point in his life or maybe... he was just out of beer. There WAS such a thing as overextending yourself over the details.

A chair with a cushion shaped after the man's ass. Comfort. Routine. A hard working mechanic needs his rest and entertainment over a large TV. When Jacob demanded to know more about what Harlan wanted, asking for the whole truth, Harlan's kneejerk reaction was to lie, but he immediately realized there was no need to do so. Jacob's attitude had changed and Harlan was really interested in being able to use his abilities and expand his contacts. He wanted Jacob to feel comfortable and in control and a string of bull would likely achieve the opposite.

So he gave the man the whole truth. He sat on the empty, less used chair, holding the drink Jacob had provided.

"There are mutants who use their talents to help mankind and do good and there are others who use them to steal or commit crimes. Me, I use mine in my line of work, just like you do, and make my money legally, excelling at what I do best" he said, taking a sip from his orange juice. "There are many licensed private investigators in New York, but many of them don't touch mutant cases with a ten foot pole. Humans have limits and many detectives count on those limits to discard theories or suspects, but mutant powers add too many variables to the equations. Most mutant cases are usually referred to the MRC unit in the NYPD."

Harlan leaned back in his chair as he spoke, trying to make his pitch sound business like, since in the end, that's excatly what it was. He was just concerned that Jacob might think Harlan was being a bit greedy or predatory in his approach to the current mutant/human situation.

"I assume with such a large screen in your living room that you're probably familiar with a certain video of cops beating down on a poor mutant girl. This has made mutants trust the NYPD even less than they used to. Add to that the fact that P.I.s usually avoid their cases and you're left with a market that no one is looking after. In order to succeed in such endeavours however, I need contacts. I need to know what I'm getting into, who I'm dealing with, what can other mutants do and if they can do things that can help me, then pay them for their services" he said, ending on that line so Jacob could easily connect the dots, that this was a business proposal they could both profit from.

"Your talents are excellent to run a business like yours, but they can overlap quite nicely to help me potentially solve some cases. I've worked with insurance companies over frauds involving vehicles and it'd take an ordinary mechanic weeks to find out what went wrong, and not just that... You said you can tell what's wrong with 'anything mechanical' and that opens up a lot of doors, not just cars" he said, as he drank from his glass again, then placed it on the floor.

"That's why I'd like to know the extent of your 'gift', so I can know what I can throw your way and what I can't. And there, Jacob, is your why."

The juice was a simple enough request, and a tall glass of non-pulp orange juice was given to his guest. Jacob sat, sipped on his milk, and listened to the man explain the situation. It made much more sense now… all the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and while it was slightly possible that he was an astoundingly good liar, the chances of that were pretty slim. Jacob could tell someone was lying from a distance, let alone this close. His breathing was regular, his eyes didn’t stutter or shift, and his focus was on him, himself. The man wasn’t lying… most likely… so he decided he could make the small leap of faith and respond in kind.

“Well, that certainly explains a bit more.” He paused for a moment, polishing off his glass of milk and setting it on the end-table that was between the two men, and regarded him evenly. “I certainly can understand you more now… although I am concerned how you were able to easily piece together the idea that I was a mutant in the first place, considering your occupation, that is likely something that you are skilled in. Since you have finally leveled with me, allow me to do that same.” He took a deep breath, relaxing a little bit as he slowly let the breath out, feeling the inner locks on his mind release. “I can do more than I said earlier. I can sense machines from about a mile away… and that includes anything, as you said. For instance, the door has hinges, moving parts, and thus, a machine. But I can also control them at range… for instance, if I wanted, I could start your car… from here… and go do some donuts in the woods. Lastly, I can repair vehicles, but it can wear me out if the damage is too severe.”

All the while, he was watching the man’s reaction… every body movement, expression, and even his breathing pattern was under his scrutiny, to see what Harlan’s response to finding out the information could be.

“I will always stop and help people, and if you’re simply asking for a bit of help in your line of work, I would like to see what you would want me to help with.” He then paused altogether, allowing the man to process the information that he got, and preparing himself for the likely barrage of questions that was likely to ensue.

Harlan tried to keep his cool. He tried to seem like he had heard mutations like this all the time and it was business as usual, but he couldn't help it, because he felt like he had hit the jackpot. A large smile drew itself on his face, both of his hands went to the back of his head and he leaned back on the chair. The only thing missing was him going: YEEESS!!!

When Harlan ended up in control of his father's company, some of its employees quit soon after. One of them was in charge of repossessions for banks and insurance companies and he didn't like the idea of having a mutant as top dog on the company. It was a job with some risks, since sometimes people would think their cars were being stolen. If what Jacob was telling him was true, he could repossess vehicles from AFAR, totally safe from retaliation and the possibilities didn't end there at all. He was having a difficult time trying to grasp how many uses such a mutation could have.

"It was good before, but now it's even better" he admitted when Jacob told him of his full scope. "I'd be mostly interested in repossessions, frauds, machine tampering and the sort, but rest assured, help is well and good, but we charge for our services and pay our providers, which means you wouldn't be doing it for free. Now, what does 'mechanical' imply? Hinges and levers but no electronics? What are your limitations? Can you handle locks? I don't want you to think we'd be doing anything illegal, since we do all the paperwork beforehand, but there are times when we've had to deal with those. Are there any mutants in your family with similar abilities?"

Now, that last question may have seemed like he was delving in personal territory, but he didn't see any harm in asking. When you've found a golden geese it's always good to know if you have a spare. Harlan then wondered if he could push it further, since mutants were sometimes part of a tight community.

"Have you met any other mutants with useful mutations? I'm not interested in the destructive, offensive sort, but in the kind that could put their talents to good use, aiding in investigation and P.I. work."