The truck jerked to a halt in front of the Jaager Worldwide building. Supposedly the company ran all of it's trials in-house. Probably to keep whatever happened close by and make any spying rather difficult. Still it didn't ease the worry in his gut. The building on the outside felt too rich for him, too imposing even for the rather large mutant sitting in the back of the pick-up. The little window at the back of the driver's seat slid open, revealing his uncle's worried face, <"Are you sure about this? It might not work out.">

<"Yes, I'm sure. Plus it's paid. I need to do more to help out, so what better way than this?"> Victor hoped out of the truck, making the people walking the sidewalk skitter around him. He let out a irritated sigh before calling over his shoulder, "I'll call in half an hour."

With that he marched inside the building, playing as cool and confident he could be without accidentally bumping people or getting in the way. So, not very confident. Still he made it to the secretary's desk with little issue and asked her about the clinical trials for the mutant cure. She handed over paperwork with a fake smile and a large novelty pen that would fit his hands better. Apparently he wasn't the first large mutant to walk through the doors.

"If you need help filling out the paper work, don't be afraid to ask." She said with a kindness that he wasn't sure was genuine or not. He thanked her and tried not to appear ungrateful for it. After all, it wasn't everyday that someone offered him their help. It was a nice change of pace.

Finding a chair that he could sit in without having his tail scrunched to one direction or another, he began the tedious task of filling out the information. Name, age, birth date, so on and so forth. Forms to agree to protect any information that was shared about the product. Liability forms and payment information. Boring, boring information but necessary. He doubted he'd be denied qualification from the trial, his mutation was too obvious to ignore.

"Mr. Jaager, sir?"

Ambrose didn't hear his secretary calling at first. He was sitting in one of the many laboratories in the Jaager Worldwide main headquarters building, listening to one of his scientists trying to explain the new development they'd made on the mutant cure to him. He'd majored in biochem, sure, when in uni in order to prepare for his unavoidable role as JW's new CEO, but even this was a bit much.

"Mr. Jaager?"

Something about using something that would directly tunnel into the genome to do something? He narrowed his eyes as he flipped through the schematics visible on his tablet, as the scientist still chattered on, trying to explain it to his boss.

"Mr. Jaager!" Ambrose's head snapped up, finally having heard it, and his eyes darted across the room, trying to find the source of the sound. And once he did, he grinned, putting the tablet down and excusing himself politely from the scientist to walk towards his clearly irritated secretary.

"Ah, darling," Ambrose smirked. "What can I do for you?"

His secretary, Madeline Brass - a beautiful mutant with a feline mutation, covered in a thin layer of spotted white fur - stared him down, unamused. She had a girlfriend and Ambrose knew it, but he needed someone to tease on a daily basis.

"Víctor Calisto Ochoa," she said, and Ambrose stared at her, not getting what the name meant. Understanding his confusion, she repeated (somewhat condescendingly), "He's the mutant who's going to be undergoing our clinical trials for the Dusk project?" Ah, him. The one-eyed four-armed mutant, here so Ambrose could watch scientists stick needles in him as the new and not really improved version of the mutant cure did absolutely nothing. Oh, well - he was here, and with a mutation that would make any progress painfully obvious, which was an improvement from the last twenty mutants with mentally-based powers they could barely control to begin with. The papers he was filling out were merely a formality. Ambrose had already checked on what was available about him when he responded to the ad and immediately flagged him as a potential subject, so he was already in.

"If you could send him up, Miss Brass," Ambrose sighed. She was well aware of his frustration with the seemingly stalled project, so she gave him a vaguely comforting pat on the shoulder before leaving. As she left to retrieve him, Ambrose glanced at his reflection in the glass windows by the door of the lab. Judging by the other man's mutation, Ambrose didn't think he'd be affected by the wings and spikes clearly visible on his back, or his yellow eyes with slitted pupils now that he'd taken his colored contacts out, having been replaced with his more effective regular ones. He wasn't wearing a shirt, in fact - the scientist he'd been talking too had just been using him as a test subject for a different drug they were synthesizing to temporarily dampen the visible effects of mutations, but it had so far done nothing. Ambrose suspected it wouldn't, considering that the drugs he took may have interfered, but he wasn't going to announce that.

So he perched on one of the spinning stools, motioning at the scientist to start explaining again, as he waited for Madeline to return with Víctor. He hoped they'd hurry, though - this particular scientist was far too fond of saying things he knew Ambrose wouldn't understand before backtracking to explain them to Ambrose as if he were six. He didn't know for how much longer he could just sit here and not tear the other man apart, and if he did so, PR would hate him until the world itself ended.

Paper work taken care of, he texted his uncle to let him know that things were going alright and now he'd have to wait for whatever the scientists needed. Probably the usual check up stuff, height, weight, breath in, breath out sort of deal. Honestly he hadn't been to a doctor since the mutation took hold so it was probably for the best that he was here. If only just in case.

It didn't take that long for the secretary to return, asking him to follow her. Down the hall and one elevator trip upward later he found himself in a place that felt rather sterile. If he didn't know any better he'd say they were in a bunker. The lack of windows were probably for the best though. The drug trials were private after all.

Well as private as they could be. Apparently he wasn't alone in them, for when they arrived another mutant was already sitting at one of the spinning chairs. He looked rather bored listening to the scientist explain the details of...something? It might of been the drug that they were going to test on him but he honestly couldn't make heads or tails of the jabbering. It didn't look like the other mutant could either.

The secretary had him sit down on one of the metal tables. The cold surface of which made him grimace. He absorbed some of the warmth from the air hoping that it would be enough for the length of whatever the doctors needed to do.

Ah. And there he was, thankfully - the mutant in question, along with the secretary from downstairs. She nodded at him and immediately left to return to her post after settling the mutant down on one of the tables. He was more impressive than the photographs that Ambrose had dug up had shown him to be. The guy was much taller, for starters, but Ambrose couldn't help but admire the brutality that the other man's mutation implied.

Only after a moment or two did the scientist - Dr. Gellan - notice the new arrival, and he immediately veered off to confront him.

"Mr. Ochoa! Ah, a pleasure to finally meet you. So, now that you've filled out the paperwork, we're just going to get some basic information about you in order to ensure that the drug won't have any negative consequences on you." With that, Dr. Gellan jumped straight into the checkup, clearly wanting to get it over with so they could test the drug.

Ambrose yawned, flexing his wings a bit, unconcerned with the onlookers and enjoying the limited time during which he could stretch out. Funny - Víctor didn't seem to realize who Ambrose was, only momentarily scanning him over and clearly brushing him off as another mutant there for the trials. He did look rather different, after all, with his mutation clearly visible and without his customary suit that probably cost more than the yearly paycheck of the average American. So he decided to roll with that for now, unsure whether or not being recognized would change how Víctor behaved.

"Víctor Ochoa?" he asked pleasantly, head tilted a bit to observe the other mutant in an almost predatory way. "I'm Ambrose. Are you here for the trials?"

Dr. Gellan glanced up in confusion, but from behind Víctor where he couldn't be seen. He seemed to momentarily figure out what Ambrose was intending, however, and merely went back to what he was doing. It didn't affect him, after all, and Ambrose himself would prefer it if the good doctor didn't ruin Ambrose's playtime, so to speak.

He nodded, just as eager as the doctor to get things started. He stripped off his jacket and shirt as requested, letting the doctor do what he needed and answering questions about this or that. Standard check up stuff with bonus questions about his mutation. Easy enough stuff to answer, nothing really complicated. Though he could do without the cold of the room. He was unintentionally drawing heat from the doctor's hands in order to regulate himself. Otherwise he might just doze off.

Though his attention was caught by the other mutant in the room. He couldn't shake the predatory sensation he got from the other man. Something in him wanted to growl. But the man's, Ambrose's words didn't warrant aggression. So he kept his voice in check.

"Víctor Ochoa? I'm Ambrose. Are you here for the trials?"

"Yes, I'm hoping they can cure me of my mutation or at least provide some temporary relief." It was all he could ask, just a few hours where he wouldn't have to worry about his size or how he looked or the constant need to find warmth. Last winter had been hard enough on him, he could barely work with how cold it had been. He wasn't looking forward to any future winters.

"What about you? Are you here for the trials as well?" It certainly looked like it with his body exposed as it was, it wasn't hard to see the physical mutation that had taken hold of the man. Something about it honestly reminded him of a chupacabra. Not the version one would see these days but the way it used to be drawn. Wings and spikey back, a hint of sharp teeth and yellow eyes, there was just something dark about him. He didn't know what it was but something felt off about the man.

"Yes, I'm hoping they can cure me of my mutation or at least provide some temporary relief." Alright, relatively predictable intentions. He wanted to hide his mutation so he could blend in with the humans, as superior as he himself was. Sure, he may have some troubles, but he didn't have to hide away like Ambrose did, seeing as he likely didn't have the public scrutiny or ability to change into a more inconspicuous form so he could rampage while in his normal shape.

"What about you? Are you here for the trials as well?" And, oh, wasn't this amusing. Ambrose could faintly sense fear - a natural predatory instinct, to recognize when the prey was wary. And a natural instinct of both homo sapiens and homo superior as well to be unnerved in the face of a predator, and Víctor seemed to be succumbing to just that.

"You could say that," Ambrose said amiably, watching as Dr. Gellan entered data into a computer. But almost immediately after he responded, Dr. Gellan let out a happy exclamation, and moved to face Víctor.

"Alright, we're ready to start the injections. Is there anywhere in your, ah -" and he leaned over to peer critically at Víctor's skin - "scaling that might allow us to actually inject something?"

Meanwhile, Ambrose had stopped fidgeting and had fallen almost completely still, not unlike a lizard laying in wait for its prey, with no movement expect for the occasional slow blink. He stared pensively at Víctor, waiting to see what would happen, but not in a caring way. The other mutant was an experiment to him, nothing more, and while he would never admit it out loud or show it with his expression, that was merely how he saw everybody else in the world. They were all assets, and he was their king, and the mutant before him was merely more important than much of the others.

Ambrose didn't say much more than some agreement with his assumption. He still got a predatory vibe from him. He wanted to growl, flare up his heat, make it clear he wasn't prey. But then he wouldn't be acting very civilized. Less man and more monster. So he reigned in his aggression, focused on the doctor and his questions, anything but the need to show up this smaller man.

His eyes widened when the doctor mentioned having trouble finding a soft spot for the actual injection. "Oh, uh, if you could raise the temperature, my skin will soften." The assistants in the room quickly scattered about, closing off any temperature sensitive material before raising the temperature of the room. He quickly absorbed it, loving the warm sensation that spread through his body. Despite them increasing the temperature of the room, they would actually feel it drop as he took in all the heat.

The color of his skin becoming brighter and warmer. Healthier by the looks of it. In turn it was softer to the touch, more like gecko and less like a tough hide. "I think my arm should do for the injection now, right?" It was certainly soft enough now.

Ambrose lazily eyed the scientists skittering back and forth - not unlike mice in the face of a higher predator, he considered, but caught himself before he could make such an inane comment out loud. He waited for the heat to go up, but, to his surprise, it didn't. In fact, if anything, it was getting colder. He glanced over at Víctor only to see his skin color gradually growing brighter and brighter - he was absorbing the heat, then. Interesting. Normally one didn't see physical mutants with abilities that mutants resembling humans could possess. He wasn't flying around and breathing fire, for example, but this one might be.

Dr. Gellan poked the skin, and, satisfied with its newfound consistency, slid the needle in. Administering the cure itself took three parts, from what Ambrose could understand - the first drug "marked" the X-gene, the second drug used the marker to locate and then permeate the gene, and the third used the second one to break down the gene itself. The first drug was working perfectly, but it was the latter two that the scientists were having trouble on, apparently. Drug #2 wasn't as effective as hoped, and because of that, Drug #3 - already not at optimum effectivity - was also not working as well. What the good doctor had been attempting to explain to Ambrose before was that they'd found a better alternative to their original Drug #2 that would work better because of... something.

With the first drug having been administered, Dr. Gellan bustled over to get another syringe, checking it before scurrying over to Víctor and injecting that one as well. Two down, one to go. Ambrose was almost unnoticeable, movement having ceased entirely, and was staring Víctor down intensely. This had to work... he'd had no progress for almost a year now, and the fact that it was out of his hands was more frustrating than he was used to. Dr. Gellan returned to the table where the tray of syringes were and picked up the last one, carrying it almost reverently over to Víctor, and lining it up with a vein.

He slid the needle in and gently pushed the plunger, before nearly pulling it out and returning it to its position on the tray. Both he and Ambrose had their eyes locked on Víctor, now - Dr. Gellan out of almost maniacal curiosity, Ambrose out of clinically detached interest.

Something had to happen. It had to. Now if only it would...

[OOC: So this cure is allowed to work for brief seconds before reverting a mutant to their original state, so feel free to play that as you wish.]

Victor watched the drugs seep into his system one after another, three in total. He could still feel Ambrose's eyes on him but at the moment he was more concerned with the effects of the drugs. At first it seemed like nothing was going to happen, he didn't feel any different and there were no outward signs that his body was even recognizing it.

Then he started to feel strange, a weird pressure along his face. A numbness in his fingertips. The fire in his belly gurgled uncomfortably. He couldn't see it but it did appear that there was a minute amount of change. His extra limbs, horns, and tail shrunk a fraction of an inch. His single eye seemed to stretch a little horizontally.

Before it all suddenly springing back. Victor chocked, coughing as fire flared in his mouth. The heat of his skin grew hotter still, glowing with the rise in temperature. With no where to release it Victor released the flames toward an empty wall. He was probably going to have to pay for the damages later.

Something was happening.

Ambrose immediately straightened up, eyes glinting with anticipation, watching Víctor intently, like he was a lab rat. The cure seemed to be working - Ambrose could barely see the mutant's extra appendages shrinking, and his single eye starting to flatten out. This might have been it - they may have finally figured out the cure.

And then it all snapped back, his mutation returning with a fiery vengeance.

"No!" Ambrose snarled, glaring at the flames scorching the laboratory wall. He stood up violently, knocking the chair over in his anger, and started to pace around in his agitation. "No, no, no!" The last word was punctuated with a swipe at one of the intact lab walls, and when he moved, the parallel gouges in the cement were clearly visible. His claws were digging into his palms, the black blood dripping sporadically down onto the ground, and all present looked rather unnerved by the outburst.

"Well, that's the best it's ever done -" And suddenly, Ambrose was pressing Dr. Gellan up against a wall, a bloodied claw in his face.

"I want you," Ambrose said, slowly and in a rather sinister way, "to look over the data and find out what happened. And I want it fixed. The next time I see this cure tested, it will work, or I may have to resort to drastic measures to get somebody who'll get it right. Do you understand?"

Dr. Gellan swallowed as a drop of black blood dropped onto his pristine white lab coat, and nodded. Ambrose let go and back away, and he scurried off, followed by the other scientists and the assistants, until only Víctor and he were left. So he turned to the room's only remaining occupant, smiling tightly and bitterly.

"Ambrose Jaager," he said, rather humorlessly. "That's my full name. You may have heard of me; it's my name on the side of the building." He padded over to a mass of computers, logging in so he could see Víctor's vitals and clear him to go now that his scientists were gone. "My apologies for the outburst; this cure has been a constant source of annoyance for me. I'm just checking your vitals so you can leave and we won't get sued." As he typed away, scrolling through the information from the remote sensors that were gathering information, not needing to be hooked up to Víctor himself, he said - having, rather disturbingly, reverted to his usual pleasant self - "This may take a while. So why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"

Victor coughed, patting his chest as the last of the fire dissipated from his belly. His sigh of relief produced smoke rather than steam this time. A bit worrying but his attention was drawn to Ambrose freaking out, literally clawing at the plaster on one of the walls. He was stuck between intervening and staying still when the man grabbed the doctor. Vaguely he was aware that a few of the assistants had grabbed fire extinguishers to douse the remaining flames on the wall.

"I want you, to look over the data and find out what happened. And I want it fixed. The next time I see this cure tested, it will work, or I may have to resort to drastic measures to get somebody who'll get it right. Do you understand?"

And with that the good doctor and everybody else scurried off, tail metaphorically between their legs. He was left alone with what he was sensing a very pissed off Ambrose. Not wanting to risk his own safety, he stood preparing to leave as well.

"Ambrose Jaager, that's my full name. You may have heard of me; it's my name on the side of the building. My apologies for the outburst; this cure has been a constant source of annoyance for me. I'm just checking your vitals so you can leave and we won't get sued."

He paused, blinked in shock that he hadn't realized the owner of this company had been sitting there the entire time. He felt a bit strange, knowing now that the man who would own the cure was watching his check up. Though perhaps he should have been bothered before then. But it was easier to ignore him when he was just another mutant in for a test.

"I'll still becoming back for more tests though right?" They were close, he felt it before it sprang back. A few good pushes in the right direction might actually cure him.

"This may take a while. So why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"

He sat back down, thought about the question. How much did he actually want this powerful man to know about him. "I'm not sure there's much to tell. I'm not all that spectacular when you get down to it." There, just enough for the man to specify what he wanted to know. He wasn't about to give out his life story.

"I'll still be coming back for more tests though, right?" Ambrose nodded as he scrolled through the data on the screens.

"There are, sadly, a very limited amount of physical mutants who are willing to submit themselves to the clinical trials. Self-consciousness, mainly. So yes, you have become rather valuable to us, because whether or not the cure affects you is significantly more obvious than whether or not it affects Random Air Elemental #23." Ambrose really hoped Víctor was okay with that - they did need the guy. "Oh, we will pay you for every time you come in, by the way. You can collect a check from the receptionist at the front desk." That helped, right? Greed was not the most vulnerable emotion, but it was easily exploited. He hoped it would work for this specific mutant.

"I'm not sure there's much to tell. I'm not all that spectacular when you get down to it."

"Oh, I wouldn't sell yourself short," Ambrose said amiably. "Everyone's got a story. Whatever yours is, I'm sure it's far more fascinating than mine. The machine has to recalibrate for your specific physique, so it'd be quite a nice way to pass the time if you were comfortable telling it."

"So yes, you have become rather valuable to us, because whether or not the cure affects you is significantly more obvious than whether or not it affects Random Air Elemental #23. Oh, we will pay you for every time you come in, by the way. You can collect a check from the receptionist at the front desk."

Well that was nice. Not only was he valuable, more valuable than other passable mutants, if only that the cure's effects were more visible with his mutation. But the payment was real and he wasn't being charged for damaging the wall. If they didn't have to worry about damages he could only imagine how much money this company was raking in on the daily.

On the question of his history, Ambrose seemed intent on hearing more than just the usual fair.

"Oh, I wouldn't sell yourself short. Everyone's got a story. Whatever yours is, I'm sure it's far more fascinating than mine. The machine has to recalibrate for your specific physique, so it'd be quite a nice way to pass the time if you were comfortable telling it."

He hesitated a moment, wondering why a man this powerful would bother with him. But if Ambrose really wanted to hear it, who was he to deny him that. "If you really want to hear...Where to start..." He scratched the back of his head in thought. "I may not look like it now but I'm Latino. But my parents are Peruvian, though they didn't travel to the U.S. together. They just sort of found each other in California."

He paused a moment, careful with his words. Not knowing if any of this was something Ambrose cared about. "I was their first child and the only one to become a mutant. I thought I was honestly dying when it started. Because the fire came as fevers before anything physical changed. Despite the changes I was able to finish high school."

"I might have gone to college but the prospect of even trying with this new form was...daunting. So, I came here to New York to work with my uncle, live with his family. And I guess that's it."He shrugged his shoulders, not knowing if any of that was at all interesting and had filled any time.

Ambrose nodded along as he listened to Víctor's story. It was your typical physical mutant schtick - mutation manifested much to their confusion and horror, unable to complete school, came to New York. Especially the last part. He supposed the commonality was because he was centered in New York so only people who'd moved here would speak to him, but eh.

The hadn't completed college part, though - that was curious, and something that Ambrose may find useful in the future. He knew the uncle worked for a shipping company and thus so did Víctor. But he was sure the man had skills that could be put to better use... maybe he'd discuss that second part with the other mutant later.

"Well, you could always go to college here," Ambrose said, leaning back on the lab table behind him and crossing his arms. "New York's nice like that. Less people care about how you look compared to other places." Now was probably a brilliant time for bribery. Of sorts. "Unless it's a money thing, too. In which case, did you know JW gives out scholarships to underprivileged mutants in need?"

Something beeped. He glanced over at the screen again and started typing away. "Huh," he said almost as an afterthought, before turning to focus on Víctor again. "One of the compounds is more similar chemically to the Haywire drug than to a cure - about how badly did you say you lost control, again?" He suspected that if the scientists didn't fix that, his lab might be slightly broken next time Víctor was here, and that would not be fun.

"Well, you could always go to college here, New York's nice like that. Less people care about how you look compared to other places. Unless it's a money thing, too. In which case, did you know JW gives out scholarships to underprivileged mutants in need?"

He looked at the man, surprised by the offer. It was tempting, go to school, get a degree, maybe move on from the dead-end job. But then...who would hire him? Hell what would he study? He didn't want to waste a scholarship on a liberal arts degree. Perhaps a business degree, then...well he came back to the first question. There weren't a lot of companies that would risk time on a mutant like him. There were a couple here. Including the one he was sitting in.

"Well, if I were, what degree would you suggest? Before the change I was just going to go for a liberal arts degree, remain undecided until I could figure out what I would like. But I don't want to waste a scholarship on a plan like that. And there aren't exactly a lot of business that would hire someone like me. Which would leave me with a place like yours or maybe Faust Pharmaceuticals."

He smirked, knowing that at this point he was playing a little game with Ambrose. Perhaps seeking to strike a better deal, get a job guaranteed with that scholarship, "But then it might be rude to use a JW scholarship and end up with the competition."