WANTED: Persons able to discern the true history or previous ownership of antiques. Compensation provided upon verification, travel expenses covered. 867-5309

The two line advertisement would not have normally caught her eye, but it was pasted all over everything like graffiti. Noel counted 14 stickers on her way to work. Every shiny white sticker offered her money if she would use her ability. It didn't seem like it would be hard. She only ever tried to tell the truth anyway and extra coin was always appreciated.

By the end of her shift, the idea had rolled around in her head long enough that she'd actually decided to do it.

She called the number provided and got "Ye Olde Antique Trader, your top resource in antiques and collectibles with art and antique auctions, trunk shows, appraisals and more." and found out why travel expenses were paid. The place was out in the middle of nowhere-- same state but two trains and a long, undignified bus ride away.

Maybe since they could afford to pay for people coming out, they could afford to pay big money for the actual job? At least she'd get some fresh air? At this point Noel was willing to put up with a little discomfort to break up the monotony of the day to day.

The very next Saturday, the memorymancer was piling her long braid into the bus seat next to her on the last leg of this tedious journey. She'd left her usual sword at home in favor on a shorter Roman style that fit more comfortably along her spine when sitting since she expected to do a lot more sitting than fighting today.

The bus driver drawled in an accent that sounded like a backwater cousin to a usual New Yorker's accent. "What're you in for?" The driver seemed to be waiting for the train to pull away first, just in case there might be more passengers. So far there weren't many passengers beside herself.

"Going to an antique place to make a buck. What else is there in these parts?"

"Huntin' mostly. Garlic festival come fall."

Right. A garlic festival. Reeeeal exciting. Noel adopted the traditional New York public transit attitude and looked out the window thus signalling that any further conversation was most unwelcome.

Distractions. That's what Ty needed. Something to keep his mind off of...everything.

WANTED: Persons able to discern the true history or previous ownership of antiques. Compensation provided upon verification, travel expenses covered. 867-5309

So, when the ad caught his eye, the psychometric decided what the heck. It was something to do, and it'd be a way to make a quick buck. Besides he hadn't tried stealing since that little ordeal with the ink-manipulator. That was definitely going to haunt him forever. And he had the tattoo to prove it.

Believe it or not, the middle of nowhere was a long ways away. And as he got on the bus to finish the last leg of this journey, he found himself questioning his judgement. Then again he found himself questioning his judgement alot lately. Plopping into the nearest empty seat, he listened to the conversation between some girl and the bus driver.

Great. Competition. Well, it could be interesting. Never met anyone with a similar ability to mine...

"Heh...I grew up somewhere like that. Only instead of garlic, it was Kaolin. Chalk. Of course, I was a kid," he murmured, his icy blue eyes scanning the rest of the bus before he too looked out the window.

Kaolin? No matter which way she tried the word against different mental images nothing seemed to fit. He said it was chalk, but... well she'd never heard of anyone celebrating chalk... or eating it. As the bus rumbled on down the road, curiosity finally got the best of Noel and she turned around in her seat to get some good solid eye contact with the red head. "Kaolin Festival?" The statement had not tasted foul, but... "Where would someone go to celebrate chalk, pray tell?" She tried to keep the sass to a minimum before it spilled out her mouth before introductions were made, but sometimes it was so hard!

The air brakes whooshed as the bus hit a first stop. No one moved so the driver almost immediately kept going. He must have been used to driving a mostly empty bus. Noel checked out the window again even thoug facing backwards as she was, she could only see where they had been. the instructions were to get off at the second stop and Ye Olde Antiques would be impossible to miss. She just wanted to make sure she hadn't missed it already otherwise she would be paying her own fare home.

Noel attempted to brush the sitting wrinkles out of her khakis. Don't want to look like a slob to a new employer.

Ty looked at her, noting the first stop and paying very close attention. "Apparently the 'Kaolin Capital of the World,'" he replied. "As they called it, anyway. Yeah my hometown was dull. I know they use it in paint, but...aside from that I don't have a flying clue, heh...."

He gave a small shrug, not really trying to look impressive in his old blue jeans, green shirt, denim jacket, black fingerless gloves, and black sneakers with green laces. He was what he was, and that was all there was to it. "I'm Ty, by the way."

"Used in paint is more than I knew. Don't think I ever heard the word kaolin before today." And if she didn't know better she would have thought he was making it up. Aaand here came the awkward moment when she was supposed to offer up some trivial comment about her home town to make the kaolin kid feel better about his own. Only she had nothing to go on.

Ty saved her with his introduction. "Noel."

"Doesn't sound so bad." The brunette immediately grimaced with the taste of that polite lie. "Okay. It sounds like watching paint dry was your high school's best sport." Instant relief like drinking milk after gobbling wasabi. She mouthed the word 'sorry' because that was the best she could do to make such a boring place seem better. Didn't make the chitchat any asker, though.

Luckily, "This is my stop." She was standing before the bus was done gasping it's slow-mo break. Just as promised Ye Olde Antiques was impossible to miss. As far as this bus stop was concerned, the warehouse sized complex that was studded in light bulbs and neon signs was it. There was a little bit of "yard" that was littered with a few statues and bird feeders and the like, but beyond the store it was pretty much just forest out there.

And Noel wasn't the only person to exit the bus. There were three of them in all, the entire contents of the bus except the driver. The bus rattled away and then there was nothing but them and the building.

"You too, huh?" The third guy to answer the advertisement looked more like a teacher than anything else. He was graying at the temples and dressed in slacks that had seen better days. "Looks like they have enough merchandise for us all to take a whack at it, assuming that's all antiques in there." 

"Yeah. It was a small town. Nothing really fancy. The kind of town every high school kid ditches as soon as they graduate--or sooner." He offered a smile and a nod at her introduction, then chuckled as he followed everyone else off the bus.

"Heh....looks like this antique shop is the only reason our driver had anything to do today," Ty mused lightly, looking at the third guy, then at the shop.

"And then some, it looks like. Either way looks like there's gunna be plenty for everybody."

Huh. So now Noel was feeling even more foolish for blabbering. She should have stuck to her New York instincts. Now she was standing here with two potential competitors. Or, if the last guy was to be believed, co-workers. Either way she stuffed her hands into her pockets and tried not to feel too sullen.

"WELCOME!" The voice was as loud as all the light up signs, but the man was smaller than she expected. He stood about 5'3", cowboy boot heels and ten gallon hat included. "My name's Terry and I'm just tickled that ya'll could make it out on this fine day." He gestured with his arms in a somewhat fatherly manner to usher the three indoors.

Tickled? Noel glanced around between the other guys who had just arrived. Was this guy for real? Because she couldn't tell.

"I guess ya'll're wondering exactly what I want ya'll to do..." The interior of the shop was laid out in heaps. A heap of shutters, a heap of mannequins, a heap of creepy children's toys-- Terry walked past all that toward the back of the shop that held glass cases and more valuable assets. "These things here are worth a considerable amount more if we know their history. A lesser man would just make one up, but we've got a reputation of integrity to maintain. Very important in a business like mine."

Noel glanced up and down the cases. One for weapons, one for jewelry, one for foreign objects like vases and rugs. A few shoppers drifted about the store, but most of the large structure was open and relaxed.

"I'd like ya'll to try the same three items. Just ta tell me what you can about 'em." He scooted around the back side of the cabinets and jangled his keys as he worked the cases. Terry pulled out what looked like a set of dueling pistols, a rose colored cameo, and a tripod vase-- one item from each case. "I know a bit about these so this is my verification test." He motioned for the visitors to get to it.

Ty looked at the signs, at the warehouse in general, and at the guy. Terry? Wow...Tickled? This guy seemed about as fruity as....well nevermind. He bit his lip and tried not to giggle as he listened to the man speak, focusing more on the job they were there to do. Ty nodded as he listened, focusing on the more serious angle as he took off his gloves and walked over toward the dueling pistols. He'd have to touch each one, so he had his aspirin ready. Hopefully he wouldn't go into a coma or something.

Relaxing, he touched the first pistol, and the memories flashed before his mind. Then, he popped a few pills, touched the other one, then took some more, sitting down to rest as he gathered his thoughts.

"Okay...of these two...." he spoke slowly, speaking as if he ran a marathon. "This one's as fake as a politician's smile, and worth as much as his promises. The other's real, but from what I'm guessing...it's worth less by itself, and it was restored. Aside from that...nothing of real importance. That pistol hadn't seen too many duels. Mostly empty threats and carried for show....Sorry to disappoint." He breathed deeply, resting as he leaned against the wall. He'd probably be a few minutes before trying another.

Woo. Noel would not have gone for the guns. The potential for experiencing violence was too present. It was one thing to kill a man, but a whole thing entirely to experience the memory, the motivation and the feeling behind someone else's choice. She'd long ago learned that people could be quite ugly.

Noel watched the pill popping with a bit of unease. Surely he wasn't an M user, dosing in broad daylight.

The third guy picked up the vase and turned it in his hands. Either he had better control of his touch-based psychometry (he wore no gloves) or he had another way of getting his information. He related a story about opium, status symbols and blue glaze and Noel took the opportunity to pick up the cameo while the rest of the group was distracted.

Her power was a little embarrassing to use in front of others. She brought the small object close to her face as if to sniff it and tried to hide that fact that she had to take a lick to get the full story. She tried to focus on a name, a date or catching a reflection of the wearer of the brooch. Leaving her eyes unfocused she tried to sort through the deluge of information until she had something that seemed like the beginning of the story.

"Originally worn on the high lace collar of a woman... Isadora Nickerson." She saw the way the woman signed her name with a certain double stroked flourish and tried to blink back the memory of writing it. Not important. "This is not it's original setting, but it's an old one. The silhouette is an image of Isadora's mother Pearl who did everything she could to further womens' rights, but died suddenly in a fire. Isa wore it to motivate herself to be brave when she handed out pamphlets about women's suffrage. Thing was damn expensive. Even then."

"Did you... sniff it?" Terry had his hands looped in his belt loops.

"No." Was that a touch too defensive? "Sir." She added to take off the edge of her earlier comment.

"Well I guess ya'll are all on the level." He sniffed in a way that perhaps indicated that he was a bit disappointed. "I've got paper here. See that lil dangly paper tag? Each item is labeled with an identification number. I don't got a lot of information on these items here." He slapped his hand on a case at the back of the display area that seemed to be in sore need of sorting. "Write down what you can about each piece and make sure to include it's number. We'll get ya'll sorted payment-wise after I read through what you've got. Sound fair?"

Ty took a breath, looking at the other two mutants, then to the objects. Great, apparently he was the only one whose mutation took a physical toll on. He looked at the bottle of aspirin, rolling it between his fingers. He pushed himself off of the wall, making his way toward the paper, grabbing a pad and a pen, then looking at the display case and rubbing his temple with his free hand.

"Looks like I may have bit off more than I can chew..." he muttered. If the fakes took this much out of him...the real crap was going to be hell. Carefully, he picked up a dagger by the tag, looking at it. Taking a breath, he touched it.

~The dagger was forged in a blacksmith's shop. Bought by a middle eastern assassin. Saw many deaths before being passed down to the next generation. And the next. And the next...before finally being stored, the tradition broken. Pressed for money, the current owner sold it, and it ended up here eventually.~

Ty scribbled down the number, wrote the highlights of what he'd seen, then took a breath, looking even worse. "Can I trouble ya for a bottle of water?" he wearily asked Terry. Yeah....this kid was in over his head...

There were worse ways to be spending her Saturday. This at least felt a bit productive and with two others here she could afford to choose which items she would deign to taste and which she would pass on. Cuff links? Suuuuure. Pointy throwing star type weapon? Probably not.

The cuff links were duds. Old, yeah, but the most excitement their owner had seen while wearing them was attending an opera.

"Does it bother you every single time?" Noel tried to make conversation while scribbling her notes.

Terry brought Ty some water and after watching some work get done seemed to get bored and wandered off. "Just holler if ya'll need something else. I'l be around"

A string of pearls and cloisonne powder box later, Noel had finally worked up the courage to try something with a little bit more oomph to it. She grabbed an ornate looking letter opener and gave it a good lick.

Nada.

That was weird. Usually there was something left for her power to read. Maybe in one of those crevices of the delicate metalwork? Noel poked her tongue down in there and got similar results.

"I don't seem to work on this one." Noel held the dainty metal object out as an offering to one of the others. Maybe their powers didn't work like hers and could get around her limitations. "Maybe it got wiped down too well or... soaked in bleach?" Silver polish wouldn't do it. At least, it hadn't with the cloisonne piece. "Why would someone soak a letter opener in bleach?"

Of course, people were complete weirdos. There was not always logic behind a person's decisions. Noel moved on that throwing star. There had to be a non-pointy part where she could get a good lick in.

"Yeah," Ty replied, taking a swig of water and a couple more aspirin. "The older it is, the worse the headache. But if I keep hydrated and take breaks, I should be fine." After a few minutes went by, he politely touched the pearls, then paused as he began to scribble some more on the pad.

"You didn't miss much. Belonged to a rich woman, she polished it religiously. Saw little action. Had a heart attack and this was sold with the rest of her crap, in a nutshell," he said, taking another swig of water and leaning back against the wall for a spell.

"So, I take it yours works alot differently from mine," Ty said politely. "Mine pretty much crams every memory of an object into my skull in a matter of a couple minutes, showing me the important stuff, but I recently discovered with work, I can 'remember' what I saw. Bad news is it's exhausting as hell..."

"There is a limit to how many of those suckers you're supposed to take in one day, right?" The medicine, that was. Ty was a big boy and could define his own limits for how many antiques he might write about.

Mister DidNotIntroduceHimself seemed to be in a regular pace off in his own little world. He had selected a few items and made himself a little queue. Maybe he really needed the money. Maybe eh just wanted to make sure he did more than Noel and Ty put together. Either way that left plenty of time for them to chat during Ty's breaks.

Noel plucked an extendable brass scope out of the case while she chewed over how to explain her ability. "I get access to all the memories of a person that relate to the contact with an object for a while. If I don't access the memories in the right way it just gets forgotten. I have to focus on what I want to find and have a goal in mind."

Like this telescope thing. She wanted to know if a pirate ever owned it. One good lick told her no. But it had been on a ship. Then she tried to see writing to get something more solid, but watching the horizon didn't have much to do with writing. The best she could do was identify a flag. "French naval officer. This bad boy has seen some fighting, but not personally."

"I think so, but I just take 'em as needed. Usually I don't use my power this much in a day. Guess I didn't really think this one through, heh. Though maybe I should see about getting something stronger, but that'd prolly take a prescription." He gave a dry chuckle. "Heh...what doctor in his or her right mind would give someone like me a prescription for pain meds. 'Uh..yeah, I need it so I can touch stuff and view the past.'" He gave a cheesy grin. "But, I manage."

"That sounds cool, and a lot less painful. Me, once I see it, it becomes part of my memory as if I was there. Oh and it's worked on something of mine before too. Then I get two copies of the same memory, just in two different perspectives. That's fun." he rolled his eyes, picking up what looked to be an autographed picture. Chuckling, he shook his head, then wrote "FORGERY" on his pad next to the item number.

"You could go for the newer looking stuff?" She made it into a question even though it was a suggestion just to be sure it didn't sound like she was bossing him around. Sometimes guys were funny about that crap. "I'm sure you could find a doctor who wouldn't care." She shrugged. Seemed like plenty of people did. Noel preferred to steer clear of anything that had the potential to inhibit her choices, even the over the counter stuff. She dealt with enough of that due to her power.

"Mine doesn't work on my own memories." And it was clear by her tone that was a major bummer to her. She licked her next item petulantly.

Meanwhile, the other guy accidentally nudge a vase out of his queue and onto the tile floor with an, "OH SH**" so loud that the nearest old lady hurrumphed and turned away with disgust. The thing may as well have blown up for how thoroughly it shattered. Must have been very delicate porcelain. With a growl he bent to grab up the pieces. "I guess he'll be charging me full price of that one."

Sure enough Terry came bobbling back with condolences for the man and a good-natured slap on his back.

Noel rolled her lips together to keep herself from smiling. It wasn't funny (Okay. Maybe just a little.) because the pieces were flipping everywhere. Even if she didn't want to help clean up, she had to because even just taking one step would have made her step on some of the further reaching shards. "There's gotta be a broom somewhere." She tried to tip-toe over some bits as she made her way behind the counter.

Sure enough there was a little hand broom. Noel tossed that to Ty and then grabbed the trash can and plopped that next to the guy so he could dump the largest pieces he had been collecting in his hands.

"Stupid piece of... can't believe..." The guy muttered to himself as he worked and Noel had to roll her lips between her teeth again. Must. Not. Show amusement.

It was easier to duck behind the counter again and pick up the chunks from under the case than keep herself from grinning. She reached around blindly under the cases with care, but something jabbed her anyway. "Ouch!" Noel fished out the offending object and turned it over in her hands.

Another letter opener? This one was painfully plain in comparison to the one she had to pass off to Ty, but no less sharp. "Guess we missed one." Noel set the object up on the counter.

The store owner took notice of her minor wound and toddered off to retrieve bandaids.

"Oh. Not there. That's my finished pile." The vase-breaker grabbed the object to move it and froze.

Noel looked at Ty. Was he seeing this?

"Sh**." This one was quieter, but with no less feeling. "We need to leave."