S.U.P.E.R. tended to take good care of its assets - and that included the agents. Whatever they needed to function and work was provided for - food, medical supplies, weaponry, even uniforms. As a recluse that kept mostly to herself, Agent T rarely ventured outside of the premises of the offices and the training facility. Unless on a mission, of course. She could purchase things on order if she wanted to indulge in anything not covered in her contract, but those instances were few and far between.
What she did like to buy for herself, however, was books.

Every once in a while, Agent T would go out to New York City and visit the Filament, one of the city's most popular used book stores. She enjoyed perusing the shelves for reading materials; she liked the size of the store, several floors filled with tightly packed shelves creating nooks and crannies. Even at the busiest hours, one could find a quiet, secluded corner to browse away from distractions. Agent T liked it that way.

Today, she was looking over the History section, wearing an outfit that only barely differed from her uniform - black pants, a black sweater, running shoes, and her usual sunglasses pushed up to the head. She was enveloped in her own little world of reading, but even so, her training made sure she was aware of her surroundings. Always alert. One could never be too cautious these days.

Jorge was a man who believed in covering all angles. The man never went into a situation without several means of either manipulating it or ensuring that he could get out. The man was smart and he never allowed himself to get backed into a corner. That was why he was always proactive when it came to S.U.P.E.R. or, most specifically, their agents. They were a hodgepodge of humans, misguided mutants, and adapteds; it was only those last ones that made the man’s skin crawl. Adapteds were a plague on the earth, the last desperate attempts of a species attempting to maintain its foothold. It anything needed to be eradicated, it was them.

But, still, Jorge wasn’t a heartless man. He knew that they had their uses if used…properly. The thing was that he was hard-pressed to find those people who were willing to bend to his will. A few mutants, Like Delta 9, could easily be bought, others simply wanted freedom; but adapteds were a tough nut to crack. That didn’t mean Jorge was going to back away from them, no, it only spurred on his fire to infiltrate their ranks.

Today, one of those agents whom he had been keep invisible eyes on was a leggy beauty by the name of Gemma Taylor. His intel on her was sparse but he knew that she was loyal to S.U.P.E.R. and a hell of an agent. How could he not approach her himself with his offer? Surely a man of his charm and wit would be able to sway her to more agreeable thinking?

The Filament was an establishment that Jorge was quite fond of. It didn’t escape his attention how people were shifting away from the written word, much less words that were printed on paper. In his youth he used to have a great fondness for books and even in college it was a passion that stayed with him. These days it wasn’t so strange to find the businessman sitting in his office, reading an overly large book, with titles that most of his associates could scarcely understand. It was a reflection on the poor state of the world.

Moving through the aisles, the finally dressed in an impeccable suit of dark navy and a gold tie, sighed as he slipped between the aisles. The scent of the books filled his lungs, bringing about a near euphoric sense that no manufactured narcotic could achieve. As he slipped passed the History section, he paused at the end and glanced in. As much as he wanted to enjoy the presence of the books around him, there were other assets that required his full attention.

A smirk on his lips, the man carefully made his way down the aisle where he spied Agent T currently perusing the books. He didn’t look at her right away, but instead kept himself occupied with peering at the shelves of books. As he got within ten feet of her, Jorge knew he was entering the danger zone. His water senses had been turned off and he was seeing the world as an ordinary man would. Most mutants would freak at such a sensation, but the man was not so easily turned away.

Turning his attention to a row of books, the man chewed on his lips as he made an inquisitive sound and pulled out a book on the holocaust. Carefully he turned the pages, his eyes roaming over the words and the horrific images that were printed within. It was enough to even make a man like him want to shed a tear – mainly because the parallels of suffering between these poor victims and his own kind was anger inducing. The fact that humans couldn’t understand that they were repeating a terrifying pattern was irritating enough.

He sighed and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He didn’t bother to look a the woman but spoke loud enough for just her to hear. ”So…so tragic…” he mused. ”To know the atrocities that people are capable of out a sheer lack of understanding…”

Gemma was aware of the well-dressed man in the same aisle long before she glanced up to take a look. He could have been just one of the store's many patrons, but her well-honed senses of danger said otherwise. Even in her peripheral vision, she recognized the build and the profile she had been looking at for weeks at work, marked with all kinds of red flags and no possible solutions. Her shoulders tensed up lightly.

Cervantes moved closer and picked up a book. He was inside her aura now; brave of him, she had to admit, since it cancelled out his impressive mutant powers of manipulating water. Not that there was much in that regard in the bookstore - books did not like moisture - but still, he appeared to be alone. Gemma shifted lightly. The aisle was a dead end; if he attempted to attack her, it would be a close-quarters fight. She was ready for it.

>>”So…so tragic... To know the atrocities that people are capable of out a sheer lack of understanding…”

He was taunting her. Gemma nodded slowly, absent-mindedly turning a page in the book she was holding, and muttered in the same matter-of-fact tone.

"It is truly sad what some people are capable of when their power runs away with them." she looked up at the man. They were about the same height. She had never seen him this close before - only from surveillance, and pictures. There was something threatening about him, like the calm of the ocean before a storm.

She was a lovely creature, that was to be sure. The epitome of what an Amazon was supposed to be: tall, strong-willed, shapely, the business had to keep certain thoughts to himself. Had he run into her on the street, had she not been part of that blasphemous S.U.P.E.R. he might have actually attempted to seduce her. A charming smile, an expensive night on the town, a few glittering baubles of jewelry to shine in her eyes, oh he would have pulled out all the stops just for a single evening with the dark-skinned goddess before him. Sadly, again, she wasn’t the type to be bought and, most importantly, the b**** knew who he was.

He didn’t look at her directly when he addressed her. Anyone passing by may have just assumed that he was musing to himself and not another person. Of course the man couldn’t help but poke a little fun at the woman at his side. She worked for an organization that was desperate to control the one thing that they couldn’t control – fate. That alone was a mistake but the fact that they were actively hunting his brethren made it all the worse.

>> ”It is truly sad what some people are capable of when their power runs away with them.”

She had claws. Again, she made it more and more regrettably that she couldn’t be seduced. Her sharp tongue was exactly the kind drew Jorge’s attention. He liked a woman who was feisty because it meant that they were feisty in more than just a single way. Still, for as much as he wanted to lament on what could have been (maybe there was some world out there where the two of them were together, as ridiculous as it sounded) there was business to attend to. Jorge always made room for business.

”Oh, quite sad, indeed,” he agreed. He carefully closed his book and finally turned to face her, his grin one that would shame the Cheshire Cat. ”I guess it’s a good that that those power hungry, misled individuals always get their comeuppance.”

Holding the book against his chest, Jorge had fully turned to face the younger woman. The two of them were clearly sizing each other up. Any mutant would have been terrified of standing in the presence of Agent Taylor – especially one with a laundry list of supposed crimes under his belt like Jorge Cervantes. To be unable to access abilities must have indeed seemed like a scary prospect – but Jorge always believed that he should never rely too heavily on such things. Besides, it upped his intimidation factor to show just how much he didn’t fear her…or her organization.

A wicked smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He dipped his head to her in greeting. ”Ms. Taylor…” he said in an impressed tone. ”…in the flesh. I have to say, the photographs I have of you certainly do not do you justice.”

>>”Oh, quite sad, indeed. I guess it’s a good that that those power hungry, misled individuals always get their comeuppance.”

Power hungry, misled individuals indeed. That was how Agent Taylor thought about the man next to her; using his powers for criminal activities, and having the audacity to corner her in her time off just to showcase how he believed he was untouchable.
They faced each other now. For a fleeting moment, Gemma considered the possibility of arresting him right then and there. She could take him. As long as he was in her aura, even if he had a weapon on him, he was no more than a human, and Gemma knew her own capabilities. She could subdue him in close quarters combat. They would make damage to the shot, for sure, but S.U.P.E.R. would sort that out...
A rookie might have gone for the opening. But Agent Taylor was no rookie. She knew it was a rash decision, and a bad idea. And Cervantes really was, for the moment, untouchable. She could do nothing to hold him, not without a smoking gun. Not if he attacked first.

>>”Ms. Taylor…in the flesh. I have to say, the photographs I have of you certainly do not do you justice.”

"That's Agent Taylor for you, Mr. Cervantes." she noted coldly, her eyes narrowing. She did not use his 'mutant name' on purpose. It was the name of a god, and right now, he had no power. "And our photographs certainly do you justice."

He had been under surveillance for a long time, and that was no secret. Agents had taken many pictures of Cervantes, but he was always careful; a lot of them almost appeared staged, as if he was putting on a show for the cameras. He was clever like that, and Agent T hated him for it.

"What a coincidence, you having an interest in history." she added, glancing at the books they were holding. He had to be here for a reason. She was just not sure what it was yet.

It was true that Jorge was a smart man. He knew how to pick his battles, he knew when to engage, he knew when to retreat, and he more than knew how to keep connection with certain affairs hidden. Yes there were a lot of things that Jorge might have been involved in, but lack of evidence, paying off the right people, and sheer intelligence kept the man from being tossed into jail or made into one of S.U.P.E.R.’s lab rats. They had nothing to scare him off with – especially the woman standing in front of him with daggers in her eyes.

Still, despite the fact that there was nothing to arrest him for, he was still going to be cautious around the leggy beauty. He was well aware of the woman’s reputation and, being and adapted, meant that he was in that much more danger around her. But the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one here keeping eyes on her made than made him comfortable. Just because she couldn’t see them, that didn’t mean that Jorge was stupid enough to interact with her on his own. That was a rookie mistake.

He greeted her with his charming and slick smile. Clearly any form of fraternizing was out of the question but it wasn’t as if Jorge could just turn this off; it was just a natural part of his personality. With a smile that denoted more than he was letting on, the man just sighed as he gave her a quick look over. Again…such a damn shame.

>> "That's Agent Taylor for you, Mr. Cervantes…And our photographs certainly do you justice."

He had to chuckle at that. Like a man hanging onto every word a woman he is interested in utters, Jorge was completely bemused. Again, it was no secret that the man likely them feisty and Agent Taylor was the feistiest around. He really did have photographs of her, taken from long distances or from secret surveillances. The man kept tabs on everyone he could, especially those that were dead set on finding him.

As for the photographs of himself, the man had to wonder just how frustrating it was for her and her agency. He knew precisely the types of photographs they had of him: public appearances, charity events, his favorite was him showing up at the opening of a local bakery run by two individuals whom he helped to get onto their two feet. The man was a darling to the general public, just famous enough to the locals but low enough to not draw any serious attention. He was in the perfect position in life to do many of the things he was accused of, but never have it traced back to him.

Jorge had to grin at her jab, putting on a faux-embarrassed look on his face. ”Oh Ms. Taylor…” he said, blatantly ignoring her early correction about being referred to as agent. ”I’ll have to learn to guard myself against such honeyed words.”

The two were sizing each other up, closely. He was certain that if this descended into a physical one-on-one that it would be a hard fight to call. She had the training and the size that Jorge wasn’t normally expecting of a woman, but such things had never stopped him before. If he really wanted to hurt her, he was certain he could do it. However the man closely guarded his image and a all-out brawl in the middle of a bookstore was certainly not his forte.

>> "What a coincidence, you having an interest in history."

The grin that split his lips had an almost diabolical quality to it. ”You can say I’m a great lover of history,” he admitted. ”It has so many lessons that can be learned.” However he sighed as he tilted his head, looking at her directly in the eyes. ”But it isn’t so much ‘history’ that I am interested in right now, Ms. Taylor. I’m more concerned with the future…” A small step closer. It wasn’t rushed or antagonistic, but rather was a calculated step. He wasn’t scared of her, and though they were around the same height, he still towered. ”…mainly yours.”

A sweet, almost sickening smile followed.

>> ”Oh Ms. Taylor… I’ll have to learn to guard myself against such honeyed words.”

Gemma's face clearly and loudly read NOT AMUSED as his attempt at charm and flirting rolled off her like water off a duck's back. She had never understood flirting. She liked people who were direct and honest, and did not try to get away with things by charming and dazzling others. She was not susceptible to such attempts, even when they were not made by a notorious criminal who could not be trusted. She simply stood by with a deadpan face until he moved on to what he actually wanted.

>>”You can say I’m a great lover of history. It has so many lessons that can be learned. But it isn’t so much ‘history’ that I am interested in right now, Ms. Taylor. I’m more concerned with the future…mainly yours.”

He stepped closer for that last part, and Agent Taylor raised her chin and stood her ground. He had quite the intimidating presence, but she recognized posture when she saw it, and the only way to deal with that was to not give an inch. So she didn't. His claim was simple, and thinly veiled. This time, it was Gemma's turn to have an amused look on her face, as a small smirk tugged on the corner of her lips.

"My, Cervantes, are you trying to threaten me?" she asked, looking him in the eyes "A bookstore might not be the most fitting place for that, but sure. Go ahead. Threaten me. I'll wait."

There were a variety of ways in which to intimidate someone. Researchers across the globe have done research into the matter and found that for each person, there was a bevy of styles available to them. It can range from anything from a severe beating, brandishing a weapon, or simple with a look. For Jorge Cervantes the man had used all of these methods, and more, to put the fear of a god into them – but for this instance he didn’t need to rely on cheap tricks or blunt instruments. No, for this particular woman all he needed was to simply stand there and look at her. She knew his reputation and, whether she would admit it to herself or not, she should be scared.

He closed the gap between them, just another other step, and made their exchange that much more intimidate. She didn’t back down but instead raised her chin a bit higher. In this public setting, any one passing by may have assumed that they were just two people hitting on one another in a book store – however one look at the expressions in both of their faces (one very unamused and the other condescending) would show that there was no love between the two.

Jorge offered his take on history and his concern for something a bit more personal to the agent – her future. He said it in such a way that it could almost pass for concern if it weren’t for the thin layer of intimidation that was laced around it. In what he anticipated as typical for the bravado-filled agent, she merely scoffed at him

>> "My, Cervantes, are you trying to threaten me? A bookstore might not be the most fitting place for that, but sure. Go ahead. Threaten me. I'll wait.".

”Threaten? Haha, perish the thought…” he replied, his voice as smooth as silk upon bare flesh. ”I’d sooner smash in a stained glass window than mar such a pretty face,” he motioned to caress her cheek.

A chuckle fell from his lips as the man straightened up, tilting his head to look at her more closely. He to admit that this was fun. He’d met with other soldiers, other agents of S.U.P.E.R. before and, for the most part, none of them were as memorable or entertaining as the woman in front of him. At the end of the day, there only so many broken bones and torn out fingernails that a man or woman could take, but it the verbal back and forth he appreciated the most. He would have to dance with this agent more often.

With a hefty sigh and a small pout watched her another second before continue. ”No, my dear, I’m threatening you. Merely offering you some friendly…advice. You shouldn’t work so hard. Take some time off. Maybe spend some time with your kids? What were their names again?” He tapped his chin. ”Laurent and Valerie? Beautiful names.” His smile grew somewhat sadistic.

>>”Threaten? Haha, perish the thought… I’d sooner smash in a stained glass window than mar such a pretty face,”

Agent T kept her face blank. A small part of her mind wondered if his alleged charmed ever worked for him at all. She was clearly not moved by the flirting, or the thinly veiled compliments - and she could not help but wonder if he meant them at all, or if he was just doing it to get her off balance. Either way, she was not about to give in.
He was in her personal space now. Not her aura - he had been in that one for a while, whether he was aware or not - but in that closer bubble of comfort that people only entered for affection or intimidation. In this case, it was the latter. Gemma stood her ground.

>>”No, my dear, I’m threatening you. Merely offering you some friendly…advice. You shouldn’t work so hard. Take some time off. Maybe spend some time with your kids? What were their names again? Laurent and Valerie? Beautiful names.”

Gemma's eyes narrowed, like a tiger's before the pounce, and tension ran through her muscles. She knew he was hoping for a fight, hoping to goad her into doing something both stupid and potentially dangerous. But still, with all her training and careful consideration... while Agent T managed to stay still, Gemma Taylor was murderous.

"I do spend a lot of time with them." she said quietly, keeping the eye contact with Cervantes "And if there was a need... I would probably take time off too. Resign, even. Maybe freelance for a while." there were things that agents could not do... but freelancers could "See, Cervantes, I am what I am, regardless of the uniform. And you... you are just a disgusting man in a fancy suit."

When Jorge looked into someone, he looked into all aspects of them. Not because he was vastly interested in their lives, but for one very important resource that every person had, no matter how hard they tried to hide it – leverage. Leverage was that made Jorge’s world go around. Whenever he was courting anyone to join his team or to help change their minds, the man put out every feeler he had, peeking into their private lives and scoping them out for months before he even so much as allowed them to glance at him. That was the way that his world worked, it was how he kept control and it was how he kept others on their toes.

Now, Gemma Taylor, she was an interesting creature. Get beyond the beauty and the hellcat-in-the-sack that could be surmised she was; the facts themselves were just as interesting to Jorge as fantastical daydreams.

Couch in high school. Love for the kids. Had two of her own children and even a man to call her own. Such a beautiful story; but like all great stories, there needs to be tragedy! A mutant’s powers gone awry. The following hospitalization of her family, leaving her to be the lone member still function. The first the go would be her husband, but the kids? No, the kids were fighters. Jorge like the kids; he liked anyone with a will to survive.

The question, however, was how much did Agent Gemma Taylor want her kids to survive?

Of course Jorge wasn’t direct with his threats, he never was. There was no reason to be when such things could be said in such a way that they would work into the person’s mind like a treasure chest with a lock. When they finally snapped it open, the looks on their faces could be quite exquisite. Gemma Taylor herself, well, let’s just say that he wished he had taken a snap shot of her.

Her eyes hardened, her nostrils flared, and he could practically feel the hate radiating from her body. Oh how she wanted to do such terrible things to him (he imagined) but she kept herself rooted in spot. Despite the closeness, despite the veiled threats, even despite the sheer lack of witnesses, the woman knew how to hold her ground. It was an admirable quality, indeed, but so very misguided.

>> "I do spend a lot of time with them… And if there was a need... I would probably take time off too. Resign, even. Maybe freelance for a while."

The man’s smile never faltered. It remained, amused and in no way backing away from the woman or her logical response. She had nothing to prove to him, no reason to defend herself or her choice in lifestyle. Instead she was merely displaying the options that were available to her.

>> "See, Cervantes, I am what I am, regardless of the uniform. And you... you are just a disgusting man in a fancy suit."

His eyes locked with hers. The two of them stared at one another. Her verbal barb did sting him in the slightest, a fact that she was probably painfully aware of. Jorge had been called far worse by far more important. The only difference right now was that those people usually did so directly before a bullet found its way into their skulls or they were drowned in the middle of their bedroom. Gemma here, as could be plainly seen, was alive and well.

Tilting his head, the man sighed and just shook his head. A light chuckle escaped from his lips. He still hadn’t stepped back from her personal bubble.

”Such a shame…” he said sadly. ”So much potential. And so beautiful, well, you know,” He gestured towards her. ”Except for that pigheadedness you have smeared right there.” His arms crossed over his chest, seemingly defenseless, the man watched her for another second before continuing. ”You know, despite how rude you’ve been, I still would like to make sure you come out of this on top,” that was followed by a wink. ”Take a long vacation. Away from all this. Go see your family. Enjoy them.” His grin widened. ”While you still can. Otherwise, well...” he shrugged and leaned in again, his husky voice whispering towards her. "...I would hate for you two find that your two vegetables had been chopped up and tossed into a soup."

>>”Such a shame… So much potential. And so beautiful, well, you know. Except for that pigheadedness you have smeared right there.”

Now he was down to mixing insults with compliments. Gemma was tense with anger, but at least she knew that he was losing his patience as well. Did he really expect her to be charmed, or intimidated, and stand down from her life and job? He must not have known how S.U.P.E.R. agents were trained.
She could see the real threat coming now. He was not going to spend the whole day trading banter with her in a bookstore; he needed to get his point across and get out before he lost the initial momentum. Gemma's eyes narrowed again as he leaned in to whisper.

>>”You know, despite how rude you’ve been, I still would like to make sure you come out of this on top. Take a long vacation. Away from all this. Go see your family. Enjoy them. While you still can. Otherwise, well...I would hate for you two find that your two vegetables had been chopped up and tossed into a soup."

That was it. Gemma's patience broke with an almost audible snap. What did make a snap, however, was her elbow colliding with Cervantes' nose in a lightning-fast and brutally sharp hit that was bound to break bone. He had been standing too close for a full punch, but Gemma was seeing red, so she instinctively went for another close-quarter move. She just wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. He had clearly found a chink in her armor, and she did not even care anymore.

"You don't have your powers around me" she spat, glaring at him "But touch my children, and I will strip you to the bone."

She stepped past him, storming out of the aisle.

People were like a woven strip of cloth. A strange analogy, but bear with me. You see people are pieced together by their experiences, their memories, their ups, and their downs. Each story, each little piece of them are just threads that have been woven so tightly together that they form a fully standing and functioning human being. However, being comprised of so many threads, so many little pieces woven together, well, there was bound to be a loose strand or two. These are usually simple things, insecurities, fears, whatnot, that can be pulled out and forgotten. However there were those strands, those very important threads that, when tugged correctly, could unravel the entire cloth. Jorge Cervantes had found that little thread, or rather, both little threads that happened to be named Valerie and Laurent.

He knew what was coming even before she did; he had counted on it. There was a particular pleasure in grinding a person’s resolve down into absolute dust. Oh she wasn’t weeping and crying for mercy (yet) but her hardened stance against him had faltered. Her emotions got the better of her and she had lashed out. Anyone would have seen this and attempted to stop them but Jorge was not stranger to pain, as a matter of fact he welcomed it from time-to-time. In that pain he knew that he had more power over the person than they would ever admit.

The elbow came fast, honed with years of training and powered by rage. He felt it collide with the bridge of his nose, cracking it and sending his head backwards. There was a small grunt of pain as his mouth filled with salty flavored crimson but aside from that gasp of pain, there was no cry or hissing of agony. Instead Jorge merely held his hand over his nose, wincing as he pushed through the pain that radiated throughout his skull.

>> "You don't have your powers around me…But touch my children, and I will strip you to the bone."

She stormed passed him, looking to exit the aisle. However, before she could leave, before she was gone from earshot, the a sound came from the man’s throat. There was no crying, though, no lamentations for his mistakes or fear for the woman who had harmed him. Rather, instead, it was a low rumble. Like the thunder from a distance storm that loomed just pass the mountain tops, it started low and soft before it gradually picked up – it was a laugh. Though not the nefarious laugh of comic book villains, there was enough malice laced within it that it would chill the steeliest of nerves.

Chuckling, Jorge straightened up and pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He dabbed the blood from his upper lip, his eyes turned to watch as she walked away from him (an admirable view, certainly). The tiniest of winces as Jorge wiped the blood away, he sighed as he shook his head. He called out after her. ”Lovely talking to you, Gems. But serious, consider my advice.”

When she had rounded the corner, Jorge sighed as he walked on, handkerchief held under his nose as he stepped out. A clerk, curious upon seeing the blood stepped up to inquire if the man needed help but Jorge merely waved him off with a smile and assurances that he was fine. He didn’t follow Gemma but instead headed out the door. After all, why should he follow her…when she was going to follow him? Standing for a second on the sidewalk, Jorge turned and headed down in no particular direction, a chuckle still on his lips.

”She was feisty…” he smirked to himself. ”…I like her.”

By the time she exited the store, Gemma knew she had made a mistake. S.U.P.E.R. trained their agents better than this; she had gone through psychological evaluation to make sure she could hold it together even when things got personal.
And she failed.

It was very satisfying to see Cervantes bleed. To know that he was not invulnerable, or untouchable. But the smirk he gave her bothered Gemma, and she knew instinctively that she had only made things worse.
She rounded the corner and paused. She wanted to run, or hide, until she could calm her nerves, and stop her hands from shaking with sheer fury, before she did something stupid and went back to rip Cervantes apart, damn the consequences. But after a few deep breaths, another plan began forming in her mind.
Maybe she could make things right.

She peered around the corner just as Cervantes exited the book store. He did not seem to have anyone with him - maybe he had been telling the truth, and came alone. Either way, it was a chance. For her to follow him, and maybe find some useful things out, get something to go on, so that S.U.P.E.R. could officially bring justice down on him, and make it stick this time.

After some hesitation, Agent T fell into the routine of her training, and began to tail Cervantes across the city. She knew how to stay unnoticed. Or so she thought.

Those his nose was bloodied, that didn’t mar the handsome face of the older man as he made his way down the street. Moving with all precise pace of a man who had places to be, the man didn’t allow that to make him rude to the people who passed him. Beautiful young women, elderly gents, they all earned a kindly smile and a gentle nod from the man. Despite what S.U.P.E.R. “knew” about the man, to the rest of the public was one of the pillars of the community, the paragon of goodwill and blessing to his fellow men. His was charitable, he was kind, and he was just the picture of community; it was no wonder that S.U.P.E.R. couldn’t crack that shell.

Strolling with intent, Jorge stopped when he came across a transient who was sitting at the corner of an alley, rocking back and forth and holding his head. He was muttered about strange voices and yelling, commanding them to stop. The man, in his fine suit, sighed as he knelt down in front of the poorly dressed man. When he had caught his eye, the two of them remained still, staring at one another; the transient seemed almost calmed by his presence. With a smile Jorge pulled out a wad of money from his jacket, hundreds, fifties, it didn’t matter to him what denomination they were – he still plopped it into the transient’s upturned hat.

Donation made, Jorge patted the man on the shoulder before standing and continuing on his set destination. As he reached a corner, Jorge held up his hand to hail a taxi; one immediately pulled up to his side of the road. With a nod Jorge climbed inside and gave his directions to the cabbie who lit his sign to state that his cab was occupied. Jorge never turned to check behind him to see if anyone had hailed another taxi to follow.

The trek throughout the city was quick. Jorge’s cab was persistent to get to its destination, almost as if the very devil were whipping its tailpipe from behind. When the cab finally came to a stop, several minutes from the bookstore where Jorge was picked up, it pulled off to the sidewalk. Slipping out from the car, the man gave the cabbie a wide smile and several bills over the payment that he owed for the ride. His journey done, the crime boss slipped his hands back into his pockets and moved quietly towards a rather large and empty looking warehouse.

The building was massive and looked as if it had been quite important in its hay day. Now it was little more than a skeleton of its former self, with broken windows, graffitied walls, and various other aspects that made it seem like a place to be avoided at all costs. However, when a man like Jorge Cervantes enters, only nefarious things could be occurring, right? Drug trade? Torturing an innocent civilian? Gun running? With such a large and isolated building the options were limitless.

Jorge stopped at the entrance of the warehouse and turned to look behind him. It was probably the only point at which the man appeared anything resembling suspicious. He glanced around to make sure no one was around before he turned and pushed the rusty, heavy door open and slipped inside, vanishing into the darkness within. Just what was he up to?

Agent T trailed Cervantes across town. She was not going to lose him. Wherever he was going next, whether it was his secret lair or his office (or maybe a doctor's office to get his nose checked), she was going to follow, and keep an eye on him until she made sure he was not going anywhere near her kids.
They should have done this ages ago. Put a permanent tail on him, scavenge up every piece of information they could find. The guy had to have a weak spot. Everyone did. Some people just hid them well.

Gemma did not bother with hailing a cab. She flashed her S.U.P.E.R. badge and requisitioned one, compensating the somewhat baffled owner with a handful of bills and the promise to return the car. She could have taken her bike that she had ridden to the bookstore - but that was a lot more noticeable. So she drove the cab instead, lost in a sea of other cabs in New York, until they came to a stop at a warehouse.

Gemma saw Cervantes looking around before he entered. Whatever he was up to, he did not want to be followed. The windows of the warehouse were high up from the ground, but there were smaller adjacent buildings and containers around. Instead of walking through the doors like a rookie, Agent T climbed up to look inside first. Peering through the glass, she had one hand hovering over her sidearm. Just in case.