As much as she was coming to love New York, Rikke was growing tired of seeing the usual cattle going about their days of making money and spending it. She liked having money as much as anyone else, but something about these New Yorkers just rubbed her the wrong way. Something about them made her hate them. She fond an open chair at Herald Square and resumed judging everyone she saw.

She needed a target, money was running low lately. She had Arthur Cambridge's penthouse to live out of, but since she'd discovered how easy it was to steal money from these pinheads she'd also discovered how much she enjoyed spending it and getting over.

She leaned into her chair and reached in her new bag for her cigarettes and lit one. A group of tourists passed by her, all gawking at the buildings and commotion of the square. No, tourists were off limits for her. She didn't have much by way of morality, but one rule she kept was not to rob tourists.

Following the tourists was a trendy young woman in flawless red lipstick. Did Daddy set aside a great big trustfund for you? She reached shallowly into the girl's mind, enough to read memories but not enough to be so deep as to get stuck in the woman's head for the rest of the day. No, no trustfund, just a few saved dollars from a editing job that the woman found boring. She could barely afford her Brooklyn apartment, even with 5 roommates.

"Pass." Rikke muttered and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

She studied the people more, taking advantage of the rare sunlight. until after half a pack of cigarettes and a coffee she found a prime spot outside the Waldorf where moneyed men on business trips were exiting for their dull business meetings. All she needed now was some rich jerk who really deserved to lose everything on a chance encounter with a vengeful mutant.

"Excuse me, do you have an extra cigarette?" An ugly man asked her while she sat outside of a cafe sipping her coffee and smoking.

She scanned his mind shallowly, rich, check, stupid, check, deserving? She scanned a little deeper, He was a high strung accountant who hated his wife who he suspected was a mutant. Intrigued, she dared to scan as deep as she could without getting stuck in his head. Yep, he hit her.

"You'll do." She smiled and slid into his head deep enough to control

Speak truth She instructed silently.

"Do for what, miss?"

"How much money do you have in your pocket right now?" She asked and glared at him.

"Uh, a couple hundred, I think, maybe three hundred."

Give it to me She ordered

As instructed the man retrieved his wallet and handed the cash to her.

"How much is in your bank account?"

"Right now, I think about 150 grand." Despite her control, he appeared worried.

"You suspect your wife is a mutant?"

"Yes, but what does that-"

"Stop talking." She said and issued a new command, I am your goddess.

"Apologies, my goddess."

"You're being very disrespectful."

"I am, and I am very sorry."

"I'll let it slide this time. Come with me."

She left the cafe waitress a hundred dollar tip and entered a cab with the rich man in tow.

With some quick questions, Rikke learned the man's wife could take 2D images and bring them to life. He'd seen little drawings jump right off a page and entertain her like live cartoon characters. The woman was an artist by trade, though unemployed. He suspected her of marrying him  for money and he was quite selfish in that he felt he shouldn't have to share the fruits of his success. He made her have a separate bank account where he deposited a meager allowance every month.

They exited the cab and she made him transfer all but 10 thousand into her account, the ten thousand, Rikke kept for herself.

They strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge from the Manhattan side and she confirmed that his life insurance policy would benefit his wife before ordering him to jump to his death.

While the attention of public suicides was difficult for her to make a clean escape, she couldn't help but love watching some idiot fall to his death. She fingered the 10k in her pocket and resumed crossing the bridge.

Trailing at the back of a small tour group Rachael made full use of the break in cold overcast days to soak up as much sunlight as she could. Wearing one of her new t-shirts and having tied her hoodie around her waist much of Rachael's green skin was exposed to the elements, and for once it didn't actually bother her. Maybe it was due to the time she'd spent in New York so far or the constant interaction she'd had with 'The Detective' and other members of the MRC, either way she'd become less ashamed of being visibly different in public. At least when in large crowds.

"Over 600 workers took part in the construction of this bridge, 30 of which died before its completion. The chief engineer included." The tour guide explained as the group trudged on. Rachael was sure the elderly woman had mentioned her name at some point in the tour but Rachael hadn't heard it, been drifting in and out of focus as the view of the city distracted her. "When it finally opened in 1883 over 150,000 people crossed the bridge on it's first day."

"Were you one of them?" A young man in the middle of the group butted in, earning him a giggle from the girl under his arm and a high five from the boy next to him.

"Why yes, I was." The woman replied without missing a beat and the whole tour group exploded into hysterics. The way the woman didn't bat an eye or raise any objection to the jab at her age earned the woman Rachael's, and likely the remaining tour groups, respect. She likely got that question a lot. "It was a sight to behold, the largest suspension bridge in the world by far at the time."

A loud honking from the nearby road caught her attention and Rachael didn't notice when the tour group parted to allow other bridge goers the ability to pass through, almost colliding with two individuals going the other way. A man and a woman. Her eyes lingering on the woman for a moment. She wasn't what someone would describe as pleasant to look at, her greyish skin was covered in tattoos and piercings and even the structure of her forehead seemed extremely uneven. She wasn't one hundred percent sure but Rachael could hazard a guess that the woman was a mutant. Not that it really mattered, mutants weren't illegal here, hell she was one she could hardly judge.

"Come on now, no dawdling." The woman called out and it took Rachael a moment to realise she had been talking to her. This guide took her role seriously it seemed and quickly memorised each and every face in her tour group. Rachael slowly jogged to catch up with the group as the guide turned to face the New York skyline. "Now for just a moment I urge everyone to just turn around and take in the sights, camera's down. From here you can see the breathtaking skyline of..." She stopped, the woman seemed so confident in everything she said. Why did she stop? 

Quickly Rachael followed the woman's line of sight, a man had climbed over the railing and so Rachael watched with muted horror as he simply let himself fall. The tour group all rushed to the edge, several of the younger women screamed and more than a few turned their gaze away from the sight. Rachael didn't need to see though, it looked like he went over the edge head first, there was little chance he'd survived. From this height hitting the water would be like hitting concrete. There was something oddly familiar about the man though, she was sure she'd seen him before. 

She glanced in the direction the man had jumped from and found her gaze once again caught by the strange woman, she was alone. Strangely enough the woman didn't seem surprised or bothered by the fact her partner had just thrown himself from the Brooklyn bridge. In fact given how quickly she recovered and walked away it seemed as though she expected it. Damn it! If only she had a phone, if she did then a quick call to the detective and the situation could be resolved. Instead a man was dead and judging by the public attention on finding the man's body the perpetrator could be getting away.

With a quiet sigh Rachael untied the hoodie from around her waist and pulled it on over her head, perhaps if she followed this woman to her house she could report it to the detective later. As long as she stayed a fair distance away and refrained from obviously staring at the back of the woman's head then hopefully she wouldn't catch on.

As she approached the end of the bridge in Brooklyn Heights, Rikke thought about the money in her pocket and smiled. Ten grand was enough to keep her happy for at least a week.

Upon exiting the pedestrian walkway she ducked behind a corner to light a cigarette, at some distance she spied a green skinned woman, presumably a mutant. Mutants in public was a good thing. If other mutants felt safe walking around, then she was fairly safe from any harassment.

Green skin, and Rikke thought she had a tough mutation. Or at least she used to think so. Looking like a walking cucumber had to be a rough life. The worst anyone used to call her in Aarhus was 'horn hoved'. At least until she started taking body modification to a new level, then it was things like devil or demon, people in Argentina crossed themselves when they saw her. She smiled at the thought, "If you want something to fear, I'll give you something to fear." She used to say. Now, of course, with her psychic gifts manifesting, she had become quite fearsome as she lured foolish men in and stole their money only to convince them to commit suicide so she wouldn't have to listen to their idiotic thoughts all day.

She wondered if chlorophyll back there had any mutant powers beyond her unfortunate skin tone. Rikke had always assumed her mutation was
limited to the horns and teeth, but lately since she was kicked off her flight to Madrid, she'd manifested some useful psychic skills. Maybe the Zucchini had some additional powers to go with her verdant skin. Doubtful, she'd read a statistic recently that a little under half the mutants in the world were limited to physical mutations than having any actual powers. But then that was probably government propaganda designed to make it seem like things were under control.

She spied the green lights of a metro station ahead and decided against public transport. She had cash in her pocket, might as well spread the wealth to the taxi drivers. She flagged a cab and crossed the road to get in. As she drove off, she spied the green skinned woman again.

While she couldn't be sure Rachael had an inkling the woman had noticed her, shortly after she'd lit a cigarette it appeared as though the horned woman looked directly at her. Not that it really mattered right, she couldn't have possibly figured out she was being followed so quickly. Either way after she'd lit her smoke the woman continued on as if nothing was different, Rachael took that as a positive sign. 

While she followed the woman she couldn't help but wonder how exactly she'd leveraged the man to jump off the bridge in the first place. Rachael was no psychologist but looking at what the man was wearing when they almost bumped into each other he seemed rather well off, sure he may have been putrid in the looks department but his clothes were nice and he seemed to have that air of greedy business owner. Generally those sorts thrived in these times, it was hard to see him as a man to willingly end his own life.

Which meant he was likely coerced, but how? So caught up in her pondering Rachael almost didn't look back to the woman in time to see her climb into a taxi. Damn it, she couldn't let her get away now! Quickly Rachael scanned up and down the street, every movie she watched set in New York seemed to have at least five taxi's on every street so where were they? Rachael spared a glance at the woman's vehicle, it was parked at a red light not that far away. A few short seconds later Rachael's hopes were answered as from out a side street a yellow taxicab emerged, vacant and stopping just in front of her as she waved it down.

"See that Taxi in front of you?" Rachael asked, getting a nod in response. "Follow it." Okay, that one got an odd look from the driver. "What? I'm from out of town and don't know the address of the place I'm staying. The rest of my family are in the other car but there wasn't enough room for me as well." Rachael wasn't the best liar but even she had to be impressed with that tall tale. For a moment Rachael was convinced the driver didn't believe her, until he looked down from his rear view and pulled out from the curb. Keeping the other taxi in sight.

"You got money?" He asked in a foreign voice Rachael couldn't quite place. A brief flash of her purse, and the contents within satisfied the man. "Then I don't care why." Oh... he hadn't bought it.

As she passed over the Manhattan Bridge Rikke admired the Manhattan skyline. New York was fantastic... If you had money. And Rikke had money. One night in a homeless shelter was enough to convince her to start hustling and scheming her way out of poverty. The psychic powers were a blessing to manifest when they did. Without them, she'd probably still be in a shelter or begging her Padre in Madrid over the phone to rescue her. Or dead. She had one exciting night out with a new friend in Williamsburg and because the police raided the mutant bar she was in and caused it to burn down, killing her only New York friend and who knows how many others in the process.

As the lights of the city dazzled past the taxi, it struck her how close she came to dying that night. Twenty-three years of life, that's it. All because the police had a burning hatred of mutants and absolutely needed to raid a mutant hang out to show the mutants who's boss. Dead. Just like Valeria is now, a charred skeleton under piles of burnt rubble.

If there was a capital of the Mutant world, it was New York. and yet, here they were being persecuted in their own homes and hang outs. They even mass produced robots to hunt and detain mutants. Violent crimes were rampant in he Bronx, but nobody wants to design a ****ing robot for that. But mutants were people just different enough to deserve an unprecedented level of fear and hatred to justify unleashing killer robots upon the population.

"Hmm... this town needs an enema."

"What was that?"

"Oh, um. I think I'm feeling like a coffee, take me out to Chelsea, please.

Upon finding a cozy cafe, she purchased a black coffee with her newly acquired cash and settled into a steel chair on the sidewalk so she could smoke and watch the city.

While it may have concerned it at some point that a taxi driver was willing to aid a potential stalker for money in this case she was glad, his lack of compunction prevented her from losing the horned woman in the traffic.

That gave Rachael more time to return to her previous train of though, how had the woman convinced him to jump? Two immediate options came to mind, he was coerced by some sort of external factors. Perhaps his wife and children were held hostage by the woman's associates, only to be released upon the man's death. If this was a legitimate option perhaps stalking the woman wasn't the best idea. Too late now. The second option operated under the assumption she was definitely a mutant, she had some sort of mind control abilities. If that were the case all she'd have to do is say 'jump' and he'd willingly have thrown himself from the bridge. Rachael wasn't sure which thought frightened her more, that she was a dangerous woman with connections or she could control someone with a stare.

Best not to think to hard on it, Rachael decided as she looked out the window. The buildings and places that zipped by seemed unfamiliar to the girl, likely a place in New York she had yet to visit. "They've stopped." The driver suddenly stated, quickly gaining Rachael's attention. Sure enough the other Taxi had stopped approximately fifty or sixty metres ahead, the woman climbing out. "That'll be seventy dollars, fifty for the fare and twenty for me. You are very distinctive you know." A bribe, to keep his mouth shut that she'd been stalking someone. Quickly she dug into her purse and retrieved the money, practically throwing it at the man. 

Unfortunately the woman hadn't headed for a place of residence but instead a small cafe, a sigh escaped Rachael's lips. The longer this woman went from place to place the higher the chance she'd realise she was being followed, unfortunately there had to come a point when Rachael just gave up. Quietly Rachael sat down at one of the outdoor tables of a nearby restaurant only twenty or thirty metres up the street. Hopefully she wouldn't look too hard this way.

Rikke took the last drag from her cigarette and crushed it under her boot. She looked ahead at a large group of young Asian women on a tour and watched as a familiar hooded green skinned mutant hurried in front of the crowd into a restaurant. The mutant of interest took a seat outside on the recessed patio.

Am I being followed? She wondered to herself and stood up to investigate further.

"Can I, um, help you, miss?" The Host asked with trepidation.

"I'm meeting a friend, they're on the patio. Thanks." She smiled with her pointed teeth and gave him a 50.

Rikke scanned the patio for a second, spied the hooded woman and grabbed a waiter by the arm. "Bring me two glasses of Pinot Noir for my friend and I, would you?" She smiled and handed him a 50. 

Rikke walked slowly and quietly behind the woman, She used her powers to listen for any surface thoughts that might be useful but didn't find much.

She placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, "Hi, you're following me, let's talk about that. I hope you like red wine, I've got two glasses coming and I'm buying Dinner, if you want it. They make an excellent Lasagne." She smiled without showing her teeth and sat down across from the Green skinned woman.

Rachael tried her best not to appear terrified right now, she really did. One second she was watching the woman at the coffee shop, she turned away for a moment to wave off an approaching waiter and before she knew it the woman she was following stood behind her, one hand placed upon her shoulder. It took all Rachael's strength of will not to slide out from the table and run, doing so would only confirm her guilt. No, she could bluff her way through this.

"I-I'm sorry, who are you?" Rachael asked shakily. Her hands quickly gripping at the edge of her hood and pulling it down, the young green skinned teenager looking the older woman in the eyes. The woman had said she'd ordered wine, perhaps she when the woman noticed Rachael she assumed she was older. "I don't think I've ever seen you before lady, you are after all rather..." Rachael froze, thinking of a word to describe the woman's appearance. "Unique," She settled with. "I think I would have recognised you."

Rachael grimaced, she truly was a horrible liar. What was her next move, how did she get out of this? Did she excuse herself now? No, much like running earlier that could easily be seen as a admitting guilt. Did she just ignore the woman, let her make her accusations and simply deny them? No, that's silly as well. That option just left Rachael with more opportunities to say the wrong thing. The only option was to double down on her current story.

"N-Now do you mind moving?" Rachael asked, more hesitantly than she'd of liked. "I think it's pretty obvious this is a case of mistaken identity."

OOC: Sorry about the delay, work was killing me for a while, plus my internet crapped out.

IC:
"I am.." She paused, "My name is Rikke de Cordova. Just relax, I just want to talk." And she did only want to talk. Though, she wouldn't admit it, she had no friends, not one person to talk candidly about her new powers, about the bar in Brooklyn burning down around her, the police chasing her through a construction site, about trying to survive in the city after being kicked off her flight for being a mutant. It was stressful.

"Are you from this city? I'm not. I was born in Argentina, raised between Aarhus, Denmark and Barcelona in Spain. I got kicked off my flight home, by some bigot." She forced a half genuine smile. "You look different, cause of your mutation, I thought you might understand. Plus, you were following me." The sommelier poured two glasses of red wine and set them on their table. Rikke sipped her wine. "My treat, I Don't know if you know anything about wine, but this is really, delicious, expensive wine. Though, judging by the texture of your skin and a few surface thoughts I've picked up, I'd say you get most of your nutrition from the sun, water and maybe nitrogen. Wine will probably be lost on you."

She flagged a waiter over, "We'll be having the salmon, and a pitcher of water, no ice."  She turned to the woman, "If I recall my Earth science correctly, Salmon is nitrogen rich. A living plant like you should enjoy it."

Rikke realized she was lecturing the woman. "Anyway, I'm talking too much. Tell me about you, your powers,  what you're doing with your life and what do you want to do with it."


 

OOC: Don't worry about it, I can be patient.

IC:

Rachael stared at the woman in genuine surprise, she was being extremely forth-coming with information for someone Rachael assumed had just killed a man. Suddenly the cracks began to appear in the theory Rachael had so strongly believed to be the only possibility. Had she been mistaken? Had the man just had enough and jumped of his own free will? Rachael was about to speak when the sommelier arrived and filled the two glasses of wine, promptly leaving as soon as he had done so. Did he not realise Rachael was underage? Rachael guessed that a mutation could make it more difficult to gauge someones age, potentially slower ageing process but still, Rachael was in no way twenty one. 

Too hear that the other woman could read thoughts just confirmed one of her earlier theories, telepathy of some sort, even if that theory had taken a slight beating by the other woman's overly friendly demeanour. Originally she'd been planning to give a fake name if she'd been discovered but with this revelation it would be a pointless effort now. "No, I'm not from here," She finally responded, her finger running the rim of the wine glass. "I can definitely understand what you've been through though. Name's Rachael and I'm actually from Australia, things aren't great there for mutants so I had to leave." Rachael considered explaining her methods of transportation but in the end opted against it, it wasn't really one of her finest moments. When the woman began to speculate the peculiarities of her biology a shrug was Rachael's only answer. "Sunlight and water I know to be necessities, not sure about nitrogen." She'd never been properly examined ever since her mutation manifested, who knew the extent to her biological changes. 

The thought of being able to eat something though, eat it and not feel violently ill was an opportunity to good to pass up however. "I suppose I could try," Rachael told the horned mutant. While she did occasionally allude to the fact in self-depreciating jokes it irked Rachael to hear someone describe her as a human plant. Adding the 'plant' to the end created a distinguishable gap between her and the rest of the populous, one that while technically true Rachael would rather forget about.

While she waited for the fish Rachael saw no harm in giving up the most basic of details. "Don't have much to tell in the way of stories. Arrived in the states, spent quite some time homeless and in a nearby shelter. Didn't work out though. Thankfully I ran into a generous soul who was willing to offer me a place to stay and a job. It's been rough but I think, or rather hope I'm through the worst of it. As for what I want to do? Can't say I've given it much thought, to focused on the present." If the woman was indeed a telepath then it was likely she already knew this information and more. "I'm surprised you're being so courteous,  you knew I was following you and don't even seem upset by the notion. Why?" With the other woman likely able to read her thoughts Rachael decided there was no longer a point to keeping up the lie.

"What good is it to be upset?" Rikke asked and sipped her wine. "I'm sure you have a good reason to follow me. And whatever it is, I can handle it." As far as she knew, the girl had only followed her since Brooklyn Heights when Rikke first noticed her. Rikke had one rule: she didn't dig in the brains of other mutants, the humans were fair game, but mutants had rights that she respected. Plus, she had a soft spot for mutants with visible mutations. She liked the girl, at least a little bit. "Australia, huh? I spent a summer there back in '11. Cairns mostly, until I went to Tokyo and got sick. Australia would be cool, if not for the humans."

The food runner placed two plates of Salmon before them, She gave him a 50 and turned her attention to the steamed vegetables, "Sorry, do you mind if I eat these?" For all she knew, the girl could hear plants talk and was vest friends with them. "I don't want to eat someone you knew or something." She smiled, she came off as sarcastic and insolent often, and she hoped the smile would put the girl at ease.

She chewed the Salmon after deciding to leave the vegetables for later and she spoke, "Sometimes, people's generosity can come with a time limit. Should that happen and you lose your place to stay, I'd like to set you up with a place of your own. And a job, if you like." She paused to think. "To live in New York City comfortably, you need an income somewhere in the range of seventy thousand a year. Let's say your current job pays min wage, you're about fifty grand short. If your free housing falls through, which, given the real estate situation here, it probably will eventually, then you're looking at five to six roommates, some of which might not feel great about sharing space with a visible mutant. She bit into another forkful of Salmon and swallowed. If you want a place of your own through me, I'll put you on the lease and its yours for as long as you stay in my employ. She raised an eyebrow anticipating the girl's response.  

Rachael was somewhat surprised to hear that the girl had been to Australia only five or so years ago, the girl likely witnessed or experienced some sort of mutant discrimination while there. As such she ignored her comment about the Australian human population, her family and friends were human after all. "There's a lot wrong with my homeland," Rachael replied with a sigh. "I didn't realise it until the problems affected me directly."

Thankfully the sombre conversation was interrupted by a food runner who carefully placed two plates filled with food. The scent of freshly cooked fish and steamed vegetables was heavenly, Rachael's mouth almost watered as she looked down at the meal. Did she really want to try this? If Rikke's assumption was correct than this would be a monumental stride on feeling normal again, eating something for the first time in months. That being said, Rachael was not looking forward to her re-acquaintance with the porcelain god if her body rejected it like everything else. 

She was faintly aware of Rikke making a comment about the vegetables and her relationship with them, earning the other woman a half-lidded stare as she tried to decipher whether the comment was serious or made in jest. In the end she decided to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and assumed it was some sort of joke, "No, my mutation is purely physical unfortunately." She informed the woman.

With great excitement Rachael helped herself to a small portion of her salmon, the taste alone was pure bliss for her taste-buds. Despite hunger not being a necessity Rachael practically attacked to salmon with ravenous intent, any concerns of becoming ill falling to the wayside, this was worth feeling sick for.

While she ate Rachael listened to the other woman, she had to admit what Rikke was offering sounded extremely tempting. She knew she couldn't rely on the kindness of the detective forever, more so because her conscious wouldn't allow her to abuse him like that. The detective was kind to a fault and despite it only being a few weeks by now Rachael already felt she was taking advantage of him. "That does sound amazing," Rachael replied to Rikke after swallowing a mouthful of salmon. "However what sort of work would I be helping with?"

OOC: Rikke uses a mild psychic suggestion on Rachael, it should be fairly easily shugged off, but it does have power. Respond to it as you wish.

Rikke watched the girl consume the Salmon in large bites. Rikke guessed that her assumption that the girl needed Nitrogen as much as sunlight and water was correct.

Now, an idea was forming in her mind. Humans were armed to the teeth with counter-mutant measures. But aside from a rudimentary understanding, most mutants were ill-equipped to defend themselves or even stay in good health. Rachael, for example, didn't know she might need nitrogen, if she had become ill from Nitrogen deficiency, what human doctor would be able to figure that out? There needed to be an organization that educated and taught mutants how to no only control their powers, but use their powers; ideally in service of other mutants.

Rikke took bit into some Broccoli, and thought about Rachael claiming to not know any plants. It was surprising to her. Plants communicated with each other regularly through a fungus network in the ground, it was not unlike how humans interact and gain information from the internet. Apparently, Rachael, with her mutation hadn't tapped into this resource. In order for her to do that she would need roots, and as far as Rikke could tell, Rachael had no roots tucked away in her shoes. Or, perhaps, Rachael just hadn't learned how to grow her roots yet. She wondered how old the girl was and how long she'd had her mutation as a part of her life. Rikke had been an obvious mutant from birth, her horns were present at birth, though they were smaller then. Her telepathic gifts were new, only becoming apparent in full force in the past couple weeks. Growing up an obvious mutant was hard, her own parents hid her away for years. She wondered if her new green friend had a similar experience.

Rikke sipped her wine and listened to the girl.

"That does sound amazing, However what sort of work would I be helping with?"

Rikke thought for a moment, how to phrase it. "As of late, I've found myself leading a very large undertaking. So large it will revolutionize life for every mutant in New York City. It will be extremely costly and require a great deal of paperwork and meetings with important people in the city, ranging from politicians to the wealthy elite of the city. Therefore I need an assistant, someone who can organize affairs for me and speak to people when I am unable to. It will require a great deal of work and the utmost discretion. You will be compensated very generously and I promise you will live better than ever before. And, of course, you'll be doing a great thing for our fellow mutants."

She ate a forkful of Salmon. "And of course, to start with you'll earn 75 thousand a year, plus housing of your choice and a nice bonus for saying yes."

She thought about the amounts of money she was talking about. She had maybe 90 thousand to her name, all of which she needed for her own living expenses. While she had been orchestrating her plans for a mutant haven in New York City, she knew it would become very costly. But given her newfound love for robbing rich city inhabitants, it previously seemed like gaining the money was going to be fairly easy. But as the numbers grew, Rikke realized she needed even more than she could rob from individuals. Things were becoming exciting.

The sommelier refilled her glass and Rikke drew a crisp hundred dollar bill, making sure Rachael could see how much she was tipping the man. Ideally, Rachael was smart enough to understand that Rikke had enough money to casually pass out like it was nothing. As subtly as she could, Rikke send an idea into Rachael's mind, This could be you, unlimited money, the best clothes, the best housing, safety and power. Say yes.


Rikke did the basic math in her head, the cost of the block in Williamsburg was well over a million, but she and Roach had a plan for that. Her own costs for her side of the operation, if Rachael said yes, were on the approach to 200,000. That was pretty cheap, though, she needed to buy security sometime soon. It was time, to take things to the next level. Robbing the occassional rich idiot wasn't going to cut it anymore, she needed real money. Though, paying rachael would be a significant cost at this point in time, she expected the girl would make more than enough money to earn her keep.

She chewed her salmon and waited for Rachael's answer.

With a content sigh Rachael placed her knife and fork back down on the plate, had fish ever tasted so good to her before? Hard to tell, Rachael really hadn't had a great interest in fish before her mutation but now... now the sea creature tasted like the nectar of the gods. Slowly she scooted her chair back a little from the table, it was a good sign that she hadn't yet felt ill from the salmon but perhaps when nutrients she could process were involved the illness did not take as long. Or perhaps, her body could process this.

The rest of the food on her plate Rachael had prior experience with. Carrot, broccoli and various other vegetables were among some of the first meals her body had rejected once her mutation had developed. This led to a large battery of tests and practically a week spent huddled over the toilet bowl as various foods were tried, all of which with nauseous and painful results. 

The woman's goals had seemed noble enough, a strong desire to help her fellow mutants without dipping into extremism, or so it seemed. Though she had to admit the comment about discretion and the amount of money being offered did set off some alarm bells. "Well, my current job does involve quite a lot of paperwork so I'm sure that I can provide assistance on that front." She'd of course need time to explain to the detective that she'd found a job, the internship being something he'd set up to help her acclimatise to the US. "Speaking might be an issue. My mutation is still somewhat fresh, I'm not quite comfortable being the centre of attention."

The more they spoke the more Rachael was warming to Rikke's ideas. The woman definitely looked bizarre but she seemed to have an interesting idea and a plan to make it happen, Rachael respected that. When the sommelier returned and Rikke tipped him a considerable sum the image of Rachael being in that position wormed it's way into her mind. What would it be like to have that much money? She could have the best of everything. She could have everything.

It was a weird thought Rachael realised in hindsight, ever since her arrival in the United states considerable wealth was the least of her concerns. Perhaps the sight of such a relatively large sum of money being just handed out had excited her. Whatever the reason, the image provided Rachael with the final push of motivation needed to agree.

"Alright," She said with a smile. "I'll help you." 

Excellent. Things were moving smoothly. An assistant meant that she had a layer of protection between her and any unforeseen consequences of her actions. Plus she now had someone to deal with the more unsavory characters involved in building her dream.

She glanced at her phone for the time. "It's too late to hunt for apartments now" she said and finished her wine. The bus boy earned a hefty $100 tip as he cleared their plates. "But I will make good on getting you an apartment. Just not until tomorrow. Meet me outside the Marcy street station in Williamsburg tomorrow, we'll get brunch and you can start working after we find a suitable place that meets your tastes." She calculated how much she stole from the rich man earlier that day, should have been around 75 thousand, but that was in an account, she dig in her pocket and retrieved a wad of hundreds and fifties, she handed the girl what looked like 3-4 thousand in hundreds, "a little gift for agreeing to work with me, plus cab fare." She smiled without showing her pointed teeth. "Take care, you're part of a whole new world now."

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Rikke leaned against the green railing of the subway entrance, watching people pass buy. While the subway was considered transportation for the lower class, Rikke loved it, she liked seeing the people and wondering what their stories were. Plus, with her psychic gifts she was privy to everyone's secrets and she definitely loved that.

She lit a cigarette and stared down Marcy Ave, it appeared that the city had yet to clean up the damage from the fire at The Phoenix. Which was good, she needed it to be as grim and horrible as it was when she first saw it.

Finally, Rachael arrived. Rikke greeted her and led her down Marcy towards where The Phoenix used to be. "I hope last night's Salmon was too upsetting to your unique biology."

"Before we get started, I want to show you something."

They stopped in from of a pile of burnt rubble.
"This used to be a dive bar called The Phoenix. It was very popular among the mutant population in Brooklyn. The police raided the place and shots were fired. A fire broke out and 27 mutants died, the police escaped."

She did the math in her head, 54 parents lost a child, countless orphans and widows. "This is what I am trying to fight. When my methods and decisions feel unsavory to you, remember this place."