Meet me at the abandoned factory near the docks. We need to talk. Don't keep me waiting. 

The note had been at his feet when he had woken up early that evening in preparation for another night out as it were. It was cryptic yet the very tone of the written words demanded attention. Levi stared at he words for a long moment as if staring at it long enough would tell him who wrote this note. Who was this? What did they want? He smelled a trap.  A big, fat rat trap at that....but something told him that if he kept the other waiting then they would come find him. That wouldn't have been pretty. And so he supposed that he should visit this mystery figure and see what they wanted. He was pretty sure he could sweet talk and run his way out of a mess should it come to that. 

And so away we go. 

Levi got to his feet, smoothing out the wrinkles from the T-shirt and jeans he had on. He reached back and grabbed his jacket and the backpack that he had been using as a pillow and as always did a little inventory just to make sure everything was still there. It was -- his uniform and the spy like gear he had nicked from a place in his travels (he wasn't naming names after all) and then there was the pièce de résistance as it were -- the small caliber pistol that he made sure was loaded before putting it into the inner pocket of his jacket and then putting the leather style jacket on. 

It was always the last effort for him -- the gun. He would rather use his powers then a gun any day of the week (hey at least his powers wouldn't kill you -- just make you go deaf is all). But there were some instances in which he needed a little extra something. Thankfully it wasn't that often (seriously in the five...six years he had the pistol, he only used it twice)...but it was useful all the same. And somehow he got the feeling he'd be needing it tonight. 

He got to the factory and stood near the door, eyes narrowed as he continually scanned the area. He made sure his back was against the wall so that no one could sneak up behind him. His muscles were tense and he was clearly uneasy about things. But he wasn't going to chicken out. He was a lot of things...but a chicken was not one of them. 

If there was one thing a businessman like Poseidon hated, it was for there to be issues with his operations. He liked his operations to run like a finely tuned machine and, for the most part, they did. Of course there was the occasional hiccup here and there but it was nothing that a few well placed words (and broken kneecaps) couldn’t fix. If anything the man thrived in the face of challenges because every success reminded him of just how good he was at what he did. However, there was one problem that was steadily becoming more a nuisance than it was worth.

The first incident was a drug shipment being sent out that had been disrupted. The neck was a truck load of stolen tech that had been intercepted. Each time his men came back, most of them complaining about not being able to hear anything due to the actions of one man. That, Jorge found, was the most annoying part of all this. His operations were solely based around aiding mutants and yet there was some do-gooder trying to stop all that? Clearly a discussion needed to be had.

It took time but Jorge was a patient man. His men were instructed to continue work as they always did; however with each operation Jorge implanted a single individual to feed him necessary information about each intervention. Eventually a lead would come to him, a lead that Jorge would help confirm himself, a lead that gave him a name and an address.

Using the services of one of his less than encouraged associates, The Silhouette, Jorge managed to get a note delivered to one Levi Christiansen. It was just a simply invitation, one sentence, but one that carried with it a voice that could not be mistaken. Even if the boy did not answer and tried to ignore it, it wouldn’t stop the man from making this meeting happen.

At an abandoned series of docks that had been bought out by Ragnarok under a variety of pseudonyms, Jorge Cervantes waited. There was no need for him to sneak around in the shadows or wait for an ambush. Instead, in one of the emptied out buildings, Jorge simply sat at a lone table that had been set up in the center of the warehouse. Above him a single working light illuminated him and the wooden table that he sat at. Again, Jorge was a patient man.

Casually twirling a sleek, gold fountain pen between his fingers, the crime boss held a thick cigar between his lips. The smoke that wafted up curled around his features like a nearly transparent veil of gray silk. With each exhale the cloud rose high and each inhale filled his lung with a sweet burn that the man had grown so fond of. On the table in front of him was a manila folder, this one opened up to a series of documents and a hi-res photograph that was paperclipped to the corner. As the man read the file, a suddenly ding on his phone pulled his attention. Plucking up the gold-cased phone, he swiped to reveal a text that showed he had a visitor.

He smirked as the live feed showed someone slinking outside the door to the warehouse. Amused, the man chuckled darkly to himself before eh cleared his throat and called out in his gravelly voice.

”There’s no need to sneak about,” Jorge called to the individual on the other side of the door. ”I know you’re there. Come in, ma boy...let’s you and I have a chat.”

A voice.

Levi's ears pricked as he heard the gravelly tones from the other side of the door. Ahh so the mystery man had already been here. Of course he had. He shouldn't be so surprised. There was some small part of Levi's brain that was telling him to run. To run far, far away and to not look back. But he disregarded it as usual (his sense of self preservation wasn't the highest of course). I mean honestly -- if he had listened to that voice before --he wouldn't even be in this mess right now. Needless to say it wasn't a voice he listened to very often.

Anyways!

He took a deep breath as he turned and opened the door. He saw the table with the lone light illuminating it and the older man sitting at said table with a folder before him and Levi would be lying if he said that he wasn't at all nervous about this. There was something so wrong about all of this--so many red flags were being raised right now and yet he was in too deep to back out now. He had been in this deep hole for a long while now--this was just one of those rare times he was being called out on it. Something he did not enjoy.

Levi walked farther into the room (he purposely left the door half open just in case--he wasn't about to lock himself in here after all). He then looked around the room--mentally surveying his environment and what was around them. He turned towards the other man,

"Interesting choice of meeting venues." he said simply as he walked closer yet kept his distance from the other at the same time. He wasn't sure what this "chat" was about (even if he had his ideas) and he had little idea of who this guy was if any and he was just being cautious. Could you blame him? His escapades were exactly safe and so it was just a habit.

"So...what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked...might as well get this over with...

There was really little reason to hide. Even if his planted men hadn’t seen the boy outside of the door, closing his eyes and reaching out with his senses allowed him to snag the globular image of water in the shape of a young man. He knew that his invitation had been taken so, at this point, he couldn’t see the point in all the cloak and dagger. It was just a meeting, a breaking of bread, you could say, so that they could try to come to some form of agreement. Jorge was first and foremost, a businessman.

Idly tapping the end of his pen on the table in somewhat rhythmic tune, the man had his head tilted, cruel brown eyes alit with humor as he watched the door to the room. A few pregnant moments rolled by before he finally heard the door handle being carefully tested and door. The door squeaked rather pathetically, announcing to anyone in the vicinity that it was being opened.

When the door fully opened, Jorge tilted his head up, shadows cast down over his eyes making them appear to be little more than a glint of stars caught in a voice. His lips stretched into a wide, full smile as young man cautiously stepped further into the room. Carefully setting down his pen, Jorge moved onto his two feet, stretching up to his full, 6’2 height and clasped his hand behind his back.

He was a tall, thick, intimidating guy that was draped in darkness and a fine suit of black with a gold tie. Anyone would be scared of him when he scowled but what made this all the more terrifying was the smirk that was plastered on his lips. To those that knew the man, they knew that when he smiled, they better start running. Had the kid known who he was, really, then he would be wise to run. Instead he only crept closer.

>> ”Interesting choice of meeting venues.”

The room was cavernous, as one would expect a dilapidated warehouse to be, with a few standard shipping containers that had been emptied and abandoned. The smallest sound echoed everywhere in the room but so large was it that voices quickly vanished into nothing. This may not have seem like the most ideal meeting place for someone with normal means, but Jorge was not a man of normal means.

”It has a quaint charm,” Poseidon said with a smirk.

When the younger man had drawn closer, Jorge took a moment to just stand there and stare at him. His expression was fairly unreadable expect for that tiny, knowing smirk. When the other asked to what he owed the pleasure of the meeting, Jorge’s expression didn’t falter.

”Oh, I think we both know the answer to that question.” He gestured to a seat that was directly in front of the boy. ”Have a seat, Mr. Christiansen…correct?” Another knowing smirk. He took a seat only after the boy did. ”First off, let me begin by saying…I’m impressed. And that’s saying something. It takes an awful lot to impress me.”

He snapped his fingers. From the dark there stepped an older, relic of a man dressed in a tux. In his hands he bore a silver tray with a wine bottle, a champagne bottle, and a pair of beer bottles. As the older man approached, he stopped before Levi and held the tray down to his level. Jorge took this to nod to the kid.

”Have a drink.” As he let Levi decide, Jorge sighed as he closed the manila folder he was looking at and sat back in his seat, his eyes still scrutinizing the kid. ”Tell me, Mr. Christiansen…you’ve been quite…active these last few nights. What prompted you to take such actions? Do you consider yourself a Good Samaritan? Or do you just enjoy making hard working individuals go deaf? No judgment here, mind you,” he said with a low chuckle. ”I’m merely…curious.”

The two men really were a lesson in contrasts. They may have been almost the same height (give or take a couple of inches) but that was about the only thing they had in common. The older man was in a fine suit with a tie and that whole get up while Levi was in a pair of faded blue jeans with a T-shirt and a fake leather jacket. The other was a lot broader and muscular then Levi too (for whom the term bean pole fit rather well). Levi knew right then and there that if thing went south, then he was going to have to rely on his powers, his smarts and his agility to get out of it.

The other gave him a good hard look and honestly this was making him nervous. That smirk was annoying the tar out of him. It was like an ‘I know something that you don’t’ kind of smirk and Levi was not enjoying it. But again he didn’t back down. He was soon at the table near the other, the light coming down and cloaking their faces in an odd mix of shadows and yet not at the same time.

The other mentioned how … quaint the place was and Levi had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Quaint...riiight. Not the first word he would have chosen. Dumpy was more like it...which made this encounter all the more strange and nerve wracking. Let’s just get this done and over with already please?!

”Oh, I think we both know the answer to that question.”

”Vervloek dit…” the younger man hissed under his breath as he cursed in his native tongue. He had been right. He had hoped that he was wrong...but he hadn’t been. The other had figured it out. Figured out that he was the one who had been derailing the recent drug and stolen tech operations. This was just getting better and better wasn’t it. He even knew who he was...which meant that nowhere was safe was it? Ahh probably not. Course what else did he expect when he started butting in and sticking his nose in where most people would say that it didn’t belong. He knew it would come to this eventually. That he would mess up one of these days and that the charade would be up. Seems like it came sooner rather than later.

Levi begrudgingly took the seat as the other gestured towards it. The man took the lone seat opposite of him and said that he had been impressed and Levi laughed softly, ”Impressed? Really? It that just because I’ve annoyed you more than most?” he said dryly with an air of self deprecated humor. He was sarcastic--there was no denying it. It was what it was.

He snapped his fingers and Levi did a double take as the even older gentlemen came out of bloody nowhere--varying drinks on a tray and that just made him even more unnerved. He was going to have to be careful. Who knew who else would be in the woodworks here? Who else would be in the shadows--unknown to only the man who had called Levi here.

”Thanks…” Levi said as he took one of the beer bottles off the tray as the other offered him a drink. Ahh why the hell not? He had a feeling he was going to need a few more before this night was over.

Then they got to the heart of the matter. Why the other had called him here? The other was at least specific and he cut to the chase. Levi just shook his head...more to himself then to anyone else. He really knew didn't he? Of course he did.

Yes Levi had been quite active in his crime stopping gig the last week actually. He had to use his powers on almost every occasion and there had been some admittedly close shaves. But he didn't have to know that. And of course he wasn’t about to totally admit to anything though. He wanted to know who he was dealing with first. The guy could have been a cop trying to string a confession out of him. Or maybe not. He probably would have been handcuffed to a chair in a jail cell if that was the case. Nah this was something else.

Levi took a lazy sip of his beer and shrugged, "Or maybe it is both. What does it matter to you? You the brains behind those operations or something?"

OOC: Vervloek dit = d**n it

Poseidon was like a hawk watching a mouth. The cute, furry little creature, flailing in the gold talons of a predator, nipping and struggling to be free, before the inevitable fate befalls him; it was truly a wondrous site to behold. Though, of course young Mr. Christiansen here wasn’t flailing outwardly, it was a struggle that Jorge could see in his eyes. Clearly the discovering of who he was and what he had done was beginning to weigh on him. The truth was that a lot of young heroes like to think that they were untouchable at the beginning – they all needed a reminder of their place in the pecking order.

Sitting back in his chair, he grinned as he observed the young man looking suspiciously about. Jorge was kind of voice, but it was a voice that was just a little too kind as he admitted to the kind that he was impressed by him. Unfortunately his words were met with a line of sarcasm, the kind of which Jorge despised in his own ranks and outright hated coming from anyone else. Still, he didn’t act, he didn’t shout, his expression didn’t even change. He merely smiled.

A snap of his fingers startled the kid as a shadowy figure immediately. The elderly man in the tuxedo slowly strolled over, offering tray of drinks for the young man. Suspiciously he eyed the both of them before finally Mr. Christiansen relented and picked up one of the bottles of beer. That alone only continued to amuse the business man as he continued to flip through the folder in front of him.

”I have to admit, you continuously surprise me, my boy,” Poseidon chuckled. ”I honestly have expected you to decline out of fear of poisoning you.” Really, that was like Hero 101 – never accept food or trick from a criminal figure. Still, he just waved his hand dismissively, sending the butler away. ”Relax, kid. If I wanted you dead, well, I can think of some far better ways than lacing your beer with poison careful designed to make your heart explode.”

It was casual, the way he said it, and a reminder that it was something firmly in the realm of possibility for him. Though Jorge like to take the person approach with people, poisoning was not something that was ever off the table. It was merely another tool; just not one of his favorites.

Once the butler was away, Jorge immediately went into his line of questioning. He was curious about the kid, after all, and wanted to know more. What drove him to do what he did? Was he merely trying to get drugs and tech to sell for his own uses? Or was he truly trying to be the hero and just make the world a better place. Both of those options were likely and, to be honest, neither truly mattered. All they did was give a snapshot of the young man, just another piece of the puzzle he wanted to finish.

>> "Or maybe it is both. What does it matter to you? You the brains behind those operations or something?"

Jorge watched him, his dark, brown eyes burrowing holes into Levi’s before his Cheshire stretched lips released a proud, ”Yes. I am.” There was no need to exchange names just yet. As far as the kid knew, he was merely breaking up some random operations, nothing in connection to Ragnarok or to the name Poseidon. It was best to save that little trinket for later.

Returning to the folder, he continued to flip through photos and reports that his men had given him. They contained photographs of their wounds, of shipments that had been destroyed or went “missing”, and for the most part it was a complete loss for the man. Anyone would have been angered by it but Poseidon was more intrigued than most.

His gaze returned to the young pup. A second of heavy silence weighed between the two of them before, finally, he spoke. ”Mr. Christiansen, while I can respect you wanting to do the ‘right’ thing, the ‘right’ thing in this day and age is very subjective. Yes, my men were carrying out actions that would be considered illegal. But the fact is we are working in a system that fights against us. I’m merely leveling the playing fields. Which leads me to my point for this little meeting,” He closed the file and sighed. ”I don’t like people messing with my business, but I can respect up and coming talent. I…would like to offer you a place in my operation. Give you the chance to do something that’s really good.” He grinned as he eyed him. ”Thoughts?”

Even if he knew who he had been messing with (Ragnarok was was no joke after all and neither was Poseidon -- tangoing with crime lords and their crew was never a good idea)--he probably still would have done what he had been doing (though with perhaps more care taken to hiding his identity -- opps). In his mind, the human versus mutant sides were already so skewed that there was no leveling the playing fields as it were. And bringing in weapons and technology like that would have only made things worse. Who was to say it wouldn’t have been stolen by those mutant hating thugs anyways? The last thing any of the mutant community needed right now was even more technology and crap like that being used against them.

Levi watched as the other flipped through a folder of -- well God only knew what was all in that folder. He couldn’t help but to glare at the file in the other’s hands. Just how long had this creep been tailing him anyways? Just what was in there? The idea that he had been followed and that the other knew things about him that Levi didn’t want people knowing about -- that rubbed him the wrong way too. Who did this guy think he was?!

The younger male couldn’t help but to laugh as the other expressed his surprise at him. ”Well I’d figure that you would want to at least tell me what you wanted from me before trying to kill me.” he said with a smirk. Yeah Levi supposed that he could have (or rather should have) played it smarter than that. The other could very well be trying to kill him. But somehow Levi didn’t get that vibe...well not yet that was. The other didn’t want him dead -- for now anyways.

Of course that oh so nonchalant manner he spoke in when he mentioned how he could have poisoned him did nothing to relax him as the other had told him to (Hah! What was he crazy or something like that?! The last thing that he was going to do was to relax right now.) ”Right...not something I’d advertise out to the world. he responded sarcastically of course...but that was neither here nor there. Or was it? Suddenly he didn’t feel very thirsty anymore and so he had sat the nearly full bottle of beer down on the table and he had no plans to pick it up again.

The other told him that he was the head of the operations he had been messing up. He had to figure that much at least. Crime organizations never did take kindly to people getting in their way and messing things up for them. And he had the feeling that this man was no exception at all. The older man went on to explain how he wasn’t happy with the younger male getting in his way. He was trying to level the playing field he said. The system fights against us he had said. He then offered Levi a place with his crew--the chance to do something really good and Levi frowned as he crossed his arms,

”I’m sorry sir but I’ll have to decline your offer. There is no leveling the playing fields. And I don’t want to think about what will happen if mutant haters get their hands on some of that technology you were trying to smuggle in. They have enough things to use against me.”

In all honesty, Jorge thought he was being more than reasonable. Even though the kid delivered a level of snark that the man simply did not appreciate, he was not one who could let a possible asset just go. The kid had a spark to him, one that Jorge was more than willing to accept within the ranks of the Syndicate, provided that the boy was smart enough to take his offer. Of course, there was the distinct possibility that he was going to say “no” and it was an opinion that Jorge was willing to accept. He just really hoped that it wouldn’t be the case.

Sitting back in his seat, the man calmly folded the file closed and turned his eyes onto the boy. He could see a wealth of potential in him and he hoped that he would take a moment to think about his offer. Hell, if the kid wanted to go home and think about it, Jorge would allow him. He was just that kind of an individual because he understood that big decisions take time and patience. Jorge had those in abundance.

Unfortunately the look on the kid’s face seemed to betray his internal thoughts. Before he even would open his mouth, the business man knew what the kid was going to say. Unfortunately these types were far too predictable. They liked to think that they were better than most, able to say that they took the moral high ground when facing against someone as dark and malevolent as Jorge seemed to be. They loved to tried and stand tall against him, to make him feel lower than any man shoulder feel. The banter, the sneers, the snooty looks, Jorge had seen them a hundred times over.

He also knew how quickly those looks vanished when visiting these same individuals a week after their imprisonment and torture began. Again, Jorge was patient, patient man.

>> ”I’m sorry sir but I’ll have to decline your offer. There is no leveling the playing fields. And I don’t want to think about what will happen if mutant haters get their hands on some of that technology you were trying to smuggle in. They have enough things to use against me.”

Jorge sat in silence, letting the kid strut his peacock feathers as he rallied against Jorge’s offer. It was a stupid move, one that didn’t make the crime boss happy but none of that reflected on his expression. Instead it was silent, still, stoic, and simply scrutinizing. He read the boy’s face, his features, his mannerism. One might have expected Jorge to suddenly jump up and slap the kid or pull a gun on him or something, but instead the man just cracked a small and very thin smile.

A sigh of regret and the man nodded his head. With a shrug of his shoulders, he spoke. ”Then I guess this was a waste of time. My apologies…” He lamented. ”You are free to go.” Jorge gestured to the door the kid walked through. However, he stopped and held out his hand for him to shake. ”I am not an uncivil monster and I can take bad news when given to me. So I bid you adieu.”

Hand held out – it would be rude to not shake it….wouldn’t it?