It was well after midnight and Jayden found herself standing at the entrance of an alleyway, near downtown New York.  She wore a black leather trench coat and and below her trench coat was a thick layer of black fur.  All of her was black, in fact, from head to tow.  With a simple thought she had manifested the fur across most her body with the dual purpose of staying warm and remaining hidden.  Her face remained smooth, although still with the coal black of her aura.  A close look from an especially observative individual might notice that there was something just a little bit off about the fur, some quality that placed it as not quite natural.  Someone sensitive to the aura's of others might detect more than that.

How long had it been since she'd been in the streets, again?  Months.  Too many months.  How her other had managed to track her down she still didn't know and why she had agreed to see her dying mother in her final days she was still conflicted about.  Still, as much as she had wanted to say 'screw you' as well as a string of other expletives to her abuse with of a mother, in the end she had agreed to come see her.  It was cancer.  Of all the things to get her, junkie, abused and abuser as she was, it had to be cancer.  She still didn't quite know if she felt remorse or not.

Just like the first time she had come to New York, Jayden had hitchhiked her way over.  With one of her talents, she felt little risk to her life and she had been right.  One truck driver had tried to get a little to frisky with her but it was amazing how effective a handful of claws to the throat was in deterring such behaviors.  It was only a trickle of blood and yet the man had all but peed his pants.  Now that would have been a funny sight to behold.

Now came all those questions on how she was going to survive.  Money was the first priority; the limited funds she had managed to procure from her last ride wasn't going to last long.  After that, shelter.  She began making her way closer to downtown where she was more likely to find wealthy club-goers and the like.  They were the ones she had the most success with, the last time she was in the city.  Wealthy and often too inebriated to effectively fight back or even immediately notice what was going on, they were among her favourite targets.  With a grin, Jayden flexed fingers tipped in black cat claws.  It wasn't that she wanted to be a criminal, exactly, but one did what they had to survive and it had been too long since she had been able to fully flex her mutant talents.

This alley was a good alley. He remembered it from the last time he'd been drunk. It wasn't too far from the bar. He could lay down amongst the trash like a real piece of garbage. And people didn't judge if you got -hic- sick.

He didn't make a habit of staying out late drinking. Well. He did. But he rarely made a habit of wasting the alcohol by getting sick. It was an utter waste of a good scotch.

He'd been hitting the bars more, lately. It had to do with being directionless. When you don't have much of a direction in life, being a drain on society is easy.

Dark alleys are great places to get mugged, a nagging thought told him. Sure! But he knew how to take it back! And if anyone robbed him he'd rob back, harder. How bout that?

Elliott yawned. What he really needed was a cab. That, or a warm bed. Or a warm cab. What he got was mindless wandering in the middle of the night. He passed an alley with someone standing by the entrance, and goggled blearily at then. "Is this the good alley? Maybe not." He said. "This one looks occupied. No room to crash. Guess I can head to those abandoned apartments then... not too far. Byeeee." What a nice lady. Big mohawk, hadn't shouted at him for being drunk. He turned and stumbled a few steps away.

It wasn't a long wait before someone stumbled by her little alley.  Obviously this someone was intoxicated and that was the first sign in choosing a good target.  Closer to the clubs and the targets got richer, at least if one knew the right clubs.  She did.  A target was a target, however.  Or at least, a target was a target unless the target was a mutant.  She didn't like mugging mutants, at least not ones she knew to be mutants.  Solidarity with one's own kind, and all that.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately depending on how one looked it it, this potential target was, perhaps, not so potential of a target after all.  In the dim light it was hard to make out the not quite right color of his skin.  What was much easier to make out was the two large antennae and the nose that more of a slit than anything resembling a human nose.  

"If you want to crash here, do.  I won't be needing it."  Probably.  Equally probable was wishful thinking.  It wasn't like she had a place to stay, exactly.

A mention of abandoned apartments almost lost as her mind wandered to her own problems.  "Hey," she called out to him as he wandered by, "these apartments, is there room in them for another?"  Maybe not ideal but better than sleeping on the street.

He hadn't even heard her say he could crash in the alley. His mind was so focused on the idea of a somewhat comfy mattress and a sleeping bag. Or a pallet and a pillow. A blanket and a nice spot of mildly carpeted floor. Mild mildew, a bucket. The city hadn't shut off the water yet. Kerosene lamps.

As he stumbled off, she called to him. That got his attention and drew it back. He blinked at her. Was she wearing FUR? 'Some people say that's murder, you know?' His sluggish mind rambled. He buckled down and focused on what she was asking.

At first blush, he thought she was propositioning him. But no. That was not it at all. Bad on him for even thinking that! She was inquiring about room at the apartments. Elliott's face went through a lovely series of changes as he processed these thoughts. First, a sullen frown, then blankness, followed by an arched eyebrow.

"You want to stay at the apartments?" He asked, disbelief in every syllable of his words. "Yeah, I guess there's room! I bought a bunch of sleeping bags and left them there. Hopefully vagrants haven't raided the place and stolen everything including the mattresses, even though the place was kind of FOR them. For as long as it's abandoned. Because itsh nice giving back to the communnitty. Communnitty. Community." He got the word right in three.

"I think there's still running water. Last I checked, it was paid till the end of the month. Not so sure on electricity. Someone might've stolen Cable. If they did, there probably is. But it ain't no castle." Still, it was better than a lot of folks had. He had spent time on the streets. His recent run in with a vagrant had put him on thinking about other people and their situations. The apartments had been abandoned to squatters as the owners funds ran out at just the right time.

He hadn't put much money into it. Sleeping bags, lanterns, some dried food and canned goods and random other crap. A few hundred. Most of it from pickpocketing. But some from his own accounts. It was disgustingly generous of him and he still didn't know how he felt about the whole thing. He hadn't talked to any squatters to get their take.

Elliott scratched his chin, and considered this person who wanted to stay in abandoned apartments. Probably broke. A sobering thought, but not sobering enough to stop him from being drunk. Heh. "It's only a couple blocks from here. Within stumblin distance." He smiled.

It was her place to judge the drunkness of the mutant before her.  Aside from the distinct knowledge that being that drunk made one a a likely target, there wasn't much judgement to be had.  Then again, he was a mutant and not one easily hidden at that so perhaps that tipped the tides in his favour, no matter how much he'd had to drink.  Certainly she'd associated with enough drunk punks in her time.  Hell, she'd been a drunk punk in her time once or twice.  What else was there to do when you were homeless, unemployed and way with too much time on your hands?  It was either that or do something illegal and illegal tended to get you into trouble.

"A sleeping bag would be great."  Warmth wasn't usually a problem but there was something comforting about a proper blanket.  For all her brash bluster, she was still a teenage girl trying her best to make her way in a hostile world with nothing.  "If they have been stolen I can help get you more."  Didn't want to seem ungrateful.  Besides, she had a talent for acquiring money and other valuables and those things easily translated into more useful things.  Like food and blankets.  Damn, why had she left the life she had just started to really build for herself in order to run back home?  Hadn't she known she'd have to once again start with nothing?  She hated having nothing and hated even more having to rely upon the kindness of others for basic survival.  Kindness rarely lasted and was rarely free.

"I don't plan on staying there long."  Tone of voice a little more defensive than was necessary, she began following the drunk mutant.  "Just until I find a place to stay.  And some money.  You know, to pay for a place."  Damn her mother anyway.  

"Sorry if I seem a little bitter.  I'm grateful.  Probably shouldn't take it out on others.  Espeically others's helping me find a place to sleep for the night.  I'm..Darkshift."  A slight pause before she spoke her name; it had been months since she had used that name; didn't quite seem appropriate back home.  Back here in the city, that was the person she wanted to be.  Jayden was who her mother had made her into, a weak, desperate and bitter person.  Darkshift was who she was making herself into: someone strong and independent who wasn't going to be anyone's victim ever again.  That was who she wanted to be from now on.

Elliott nodded at her offer, but he really didn't think it would be an issue. A polite offer, all the same.

He got back to walking, listening only partly. The phrase 'listening with only half an ear' didn't apply to him. He didn't have ears. At least ones that stuck out.

It sounded a familiar story. Someone down on their luck, in need of money and a place to stay. That was largely why he'd set up the apartments like he had. It was funny how he'd mistrusted the guy at the sanctuary for the same thing.

He let her ramble. She had a lot to say. Plus, he was still a little fuzzy minded and being quiet helped him remember the way. They turned, and walked a little bit longer.

She gave a name. It was fake. Haha. A fake name. An urge struck him that only the drunk would follow through on. He gave her his codename. For Ragnarok. "I'm Heimdall." He smiled graciously. "Nice to meet you, Darkshift." Maybe he could have abbreviated that as dark? But mutants with code names tend to be very specific about their code names being said in full. Darkshift, it was.

"If you need work," Elliott added. "I know a place that's hiring. Ah, here we are." He stopped them in front of a rundown three story red brick apartment building. Some windows were boarded. The front door was locked. But there was an easy fix to that. Not all the windows were boarded. He didn't give her a chance to reply to his offer. Elliott took off running, jumped eight feet into the air, and used his speed to climb the remaining space over the ledge of an open window on the second floor.

A minute later, the front door swung open with a click. Elliott stood in the doorway. He waved.

So what if she was rambling a bit.  She had every right to ramble, didn't she?  Maybe she just needed somewhere to unload about all the ways life had been unfair recently.  No, there was no maybe about it, that was definitely what she needed.  Maybe a strange man with antennae and no nose wasn't the best target of her woes, but it wasn't as if anyone else was listening.  Wong time wrong place.  Or maybe right time right place.  Whatever.  He was here, anyway.

A turn followed by some more walking, she did her best to pay attention to their route.  Just because she didn't intend upon staying there long didn't mean she could be ignorant of where she was going.  She'd need this place for a while; days certainly and probably weeks.  Hopefully not longer than that.

Jayden barely managed to hold in a snicker when suggested that there was a job available.  She had little intent of making money via what most would consider a 'real' job.  There were other means and she had other skills.  "Thanks."  There, that was an appropriate response, right?  Appropriate or not, he was off before he even had a chance to hear her reply so apparently that didn't matter.

An impressive running leap took Heimdall 8 ft into the air and up to an open window.  A few moments later he was back on the ground next to a much more conventional open door.  "So, I guess I should keep the door shuttered and make my entrance via window if I decide to stay?"  A grin in his direction.  That was doable.  Maybe not quite so easily or gracefully, but it was doable.

"Oh, there's a back door with a key," Elliott smiled. "I just wanted to show off. Here. I'll give you the tour."

The building was exactly how you'd expect it to be. A little dirty, signs of people having recently left. Scratched floors from furniture. The downstairs had a front desk, and offices.

On the upper floors, there were apartments shooting off halls. Some doors were closed, some locked, some open. The apartment he had set things up in was on the second floor.

He had set up different rooms with different things. Bedding in the bedroom, canned goods and dry food in the kitchen. The sink had running water, and surprisingly, the electricity was running. A tiny box tv the size of a small dog sat on a table in the living area. Someone HAD stolen cable. Nice of them. The electricity even powered a mini fridge with one lonely Coke in it.

Elliott explained about the bedding and the food, how it was for everyone.

Jaager Worldwide would never do charity like this. But he had used their money to fuel it. He didn't tell her that.

Elliott shrugged at her. "It may be a little barbaric, but hey, it's a home." He said.

A back door.  Well, that was certainly simpler.  The building wasn't exactly anything to brag about but it had more than some squats she'd seen.  Most such places managed to scrounge up some furniture, but the really impressive thing here was the running water and electricity.  Those things made the arangment a step above other squats; maybe severl steps.

"You've got a pretty good little setup here."  It sure beat sleeping in the streets, which had been pretty much her only option the first time she had come to New York.  Even with the advantage of a warm fur coat or water resistant feathers, no one wanted to left on the streets.  No one.

"Have you done all this?  Brought in the food and furniture?"  Even in a cruel world, there was hope in such rare acts of kindness.  This could be home.  At least for a little while.

Yeah, it was nice, wasn't it? He'd scrounged and found a good place when it went down, and the cops hadn't figured out anyone was squatting yet. Word hadn't really gotten around, so people really didn't live there yet. But they probably would. And this lady could share.

He didn't dwell too much on how he was helping. That sort of thing used to gross him out. Giving away help, for free? Gasp! He felt like maybe he'd had this same thought several minutes ago. A real drunken feeling of deja vu. But whatever. It had a purpose which was a step up from a lot of things. And he didn't have to be downright evil, even with who he was working for and what his day to day life was like.

"Thanks!" Elliott smiled at her. "It should help out, I think."

She asked a good question. He took a moment in his mildly addled state to think up a good answer for her. "Yes..." Elliott began slowly. "And no." It was simple and complicated, at the same time. "A lot of things got left behind and people set some things up before I got here. I bought the sleeping bags and a few other things. I brought in the food. I think, maybe, I talked with a friend and he helped me....?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully, considering if he had or had not. "People might show up looking to squat but you'll have an apartment and privacy, so I think it'll be fine. That friend might be spreading the word. Hopefully, it'll help you until you find something a bit more permanent. But like I said. It's a nice little setup." No. she had said that. What had he actually said? He couldn't remember now.

"You've done a good thing here."  That was something rare in the world she'd come from.  Charity?  What was charity?  Maybe for those who had never experienced what it was like to have nothing, a dry place to live with food and furniture might not seem like much, but she knew differently.   The world was all too often hostile nad cold, so those little glimmers of sunlight really mattered.

"So, do I get to choose one of the open rooms," Jayden asked, looking around.  A pause for thought.  "You know, I'd like to help you here.  Once I'm back on my feet.  If you'd take the help, that is."  Because giving back to those who gave to you was important.  Because even though the world might have been dark and hard, that didn't mean it always had to be.  When the hell had she become such a bleeding heart optimist, anyway?

"Is this mostly a place for mutants?  Or, you know, anyone who needs help?"  Not that the answer really matterd all that much, but these pieces of inforamtion were good to have.  Sometimes rules of conduct were different among one's own kind.

Praise. Now that was something he didn't get much of on the streets of New York. Hostility, sure. Hatred, for nothing more than the color of one's skin? He saw that all the time. But friendliness, praise? Those things were strange rarities. He remembered vaguely when he had been paranoid because Devon at the Sanctuary had wanted to be good to people and give back... just like how he was. It's fascinating how things can come full circle. Had he done a good thing? Sure. "Thank you," Elliott said, a moment before his silence would have been deemed awkward. He turned his mouth up in a brief smile that didn't show his teeth.

Her question had an easy answer. A nod. "Yep." She could have any room she wanted, if it was open. Her followup again surprised him. An offer to help. He hadn't really thought about the long-term for this place. He'd focused on the short term. If the place stayed at its current state, that would be nice. Things had a habit of changing when you least expected, though. The surest way to keep this place alive, and prevent the former owners from coming back, or the bank from showing up to foreclose (or whatever happened in those situations, he was a little groggy and misty on that subject)... the best way to protect the place was to buy it. That was a thought for another time. For right now, he said "Alright. Sounds good." Which was Elliott code for 'We'll see.'

All of these thoughts were thoughts for someone who was more sober. Thinking them was causing him to get more sober. And that was a sad development, indeed.

Her last question was easy to answer, even though he hadn't given it much thought (like everything else, really). Some things are like that. "The Sanctuary is the mutant-only... Sanctuary... in town. This place is for whoever. I don't discriminate." Not being a mutant, why would he?

Jayden didn't have any issue living alongside non-mutants.  She might consider herself a mutants first kind of woman, sure, but that didn't mean she had any issue with humans, not in general.  She had issue with bigots who wanted to hurt, collar or otherwise kill mutants, sure, but despite what some of the more radical members of her species might suggest, she knew that wasn't all humans.  Most, just like her own people, were just trying to get by in a world that was often hostile and cold.

"Ya, I guess I could have gone back to Sanctuary."  Too much to go into as far as why she preferred not to, not just yet anyway.  "Its probably better this way though.  With mutants and humans living together.  Helps teach tolerance."  She was more than willing to steal from or hurt humans when it was necessary, but that didn't mean she found it ideal.  Ideal would be a world filled with sunshine and rainbows and everyone getting along perfectly, but she knew that was fantasy land thinking.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to choose my room now and try to get some sleep.  Its been a long night.  Thanks again for bringing me to this place."  It wasn't much, but it was a start of bigger and better things to come.

Tolerance. Again, not something he gave much thought to. But he wouldn't disagree with her. It was a valid enough point for Elliott to give a small nod. And a "Yeah."

It felt like they were reaching a wrapping up point. He needed to call a cab, and get himself home. And she was ready to call it a night.

"No problem," Elliott agreed. "Way better than an alley. One sec." He paused and turned away from her, digging in his pocket for a napkin. It was even a clean one, and brown. In an unusual bout of foresight, he had written a telephone number on it. That cute bartender had never given him an in to set it out. That paid off in the long run, though.

"Here. This is a number you can reach me with, if there are any problems with the pad. Noisy neighbors, asses who need kicked. You know, normal stuff. Utilities." He wasn't giving her his number for any ulterior motives, is what he was sober enough to be hinting at now. Elliott handed her the napkin, nodded once, as if that settled things, and turned to go.