The Planes and the Killer Whales were two street gangs that were beginning to step into Ragnarok turf. Despite their ridiculous gang names, which sounded like they stepped out of a Broadway musical, the two groups were growing increasingly violent and were beginning to make things difficult. At first it was the mutant diner that had been left in shambles thanks to the odd manner of dance-fighting that the two groups participated in, then a bakery and a small electronic repair woman’s shop. Jorge should have treated the situation with the gravity that it deserved but he was too caught up with the workings of S.U.P.E.R. and the Femme-X’s to do anything about it. But all that changed a few nights ago.

There had been the obligatory note or two passed around to these fine gents and ladies concerning their activities and how they should cease. When those notes were ignored and they persisted to the point that some of his own men and women had been busted in a gang raid, Jorge found himself less than pleased. Had it been one of his shadier dealings, there was a slim possibility that it would have leaked back to him; a slim chance, but even a slim chance should not be ignored. So it was time to pay them a direct visti.

It didn’t take long to track down the individuals who ran this little parade of bumbling baboons. A simple threat against family, a demonstration or two, and they were ready to meet up at a place of Jorge’s choosing. Of course, being young and headstrong, the man didn’t expect them to be the most honest with this meeting so he let leak information about the location and who would be there, just enough to make them think they could get the upper hand by planting weapons and other things that would make them feel superior.

They weren’t.

It was a warm night that found Jorge Cervantes, or as he was more commonly known, Poseidon, in the back of his town car. An arm resting on the door, the older man peered out the moving vehicle, his eyes checking and scanning over all the passing buildings. At this late hour, the majority of the city was asleep, and those that weren’t knew better than to move through this part of town. This section of the city was only for the bravest of hearts; Jorge, though, was the thing that put the courage of those hearts to the test.

Dressed rather comfortably in on of his finest, black suits, the man carefully adjusted the navy-blue tie that was around his neck. Hand resting on his knee, he casually tapped his fingers against the fabric, a silent song playing in his head. His dark, earthy eyes did not miss a detail of the shadow covered city, peering and knowing almost precisely what was going on in those dark and shady corners. The man’s influence reached far, you know, far enough that this section was subtly under his control. He was aware of all the nefarious dealings and crimes that were in occurrence; well, all but those that the Planes and the Killer Whales participated in. It was why it was time for a discussion with them.

He sighed, stifling back an almost bored yawn and rolled his shoulders. He turned and glanced at the occupant that was sitting next to him, the only other “protection” that the man brought with him: Gluttony. He gave the younger man a warm and almost fatherly smile and attempted to make idle conversation with him before they arrived.

”Alex,” he only addressed him by his codename when out on business. In conversation, his true name was more than adequate. ”How are you doing, my boy? Looking a little thin. Are you getting enough rest? Enough to eat? You know if you want a room that less...hidden away, I can make accommodations.”

Killer Whales and Planes, Killer Whales and Planes, who in the world would name their gang Killer Whales or Planes. Killer Whales made at least some sense to him, if one because it had the word killer in the title but Planes of all things? Why not Jets or Tanks or Knives or Swords or anything else. Alex didn't get it, probably wouldn't get it until he was in the midst of ending them and their reign of terror. Poseidon had filled him in on what was going on, how these gangs were hurting mutant businesses and even a few Ragnarok members. It angered him that they would continue even when they were told to stop.

So of course he was eager to help, as always. Even if they were innocent, he would have done as Poseidon asked. The man was important to him, saved his life, gave him shelter and food, and was always kind to him. In return, he'd do whatever he could to make Poseidon happy.

At the moment, they were sitting in the car, on their way to the location to meet these two gangs. Alex was dressed in dark clothing, with boots and gloves to match. The mask he usually wore on these missions was perched on his head, ready to slide down over his face once they reached their destination. In the mean time, the young man was fiddling with a metal puzzle, it's soft clanking filling the car.

"Alex, how are you doing, my boy? Looking a little thin. Are you getting enough rest? Enough to eat? You know if you want a room that less...hidden away, I can make accommodations."

He perked up at the sound of his own name, the brain teaser momentarily forgotten in favor of smiling at the man, "We're doing okay sir; maybe a little tired and a little hungry but no more than usual. And the room's fine sir. We like it, it's...safe. S.U.P.E.R won't find us there and if they did, you're usually there too, or other Ragnarok members. No one would dare attack us in there." He had an odd way of speaking, he knew, never using I but we. He couldn't help it though, in his time with S.U.P.E.R something had gone wrong with his sense of self, something had splintered inside him.

He had been teased by other members of course and speaking to anyone casually was something painful for him. But he did his best to act as normal as he could. It didn't always work, try as he might. He could only hope that Poseidon didn't mind it, that it wasn't something the man disliked him for.

It was hard to imagine Jorge Cervantes with a soul. The atrocities the man committed, the lives he ended, it was enough to permanent tattoo his hands red. But despite all the wrong the man has committed, he always did it with a purpose – he did everything with purpose. The truth was that despite all the bad, the majority was done for the greater good of mutants. Seeing how they suffered in the camps, the indignities that organizations like S.U.P.E.R. inflict on them, and so forth, it was enough to spur on the actions of this man. Of course, whomever got in his way, be they man or mutant, paid the price, in the end he couldn’t allow anyone to stand in his way.

Alex here was the perfect example of the atrocities of humans. The young man had his sense of self taken away from him thanks to those butchers. He slept a dark, hidden room, the only way that he felt safe from those monsters. The boy was quite talented with his abilities, so it was easy to see why anyone would want to control him, but he was not a tool; well, he was not a tool for anyone to use asides from Jorge himself.

Inquiring after his health, Jorge listened attentively as he admitted that he was doing well; or rather They were doing well. Deep down in the remnants of his shriveled heart, he could feel the tiniest pang. The boy had suffered so much and now he was probably the most loyal member of his organization. He was a killer, a monster, and yet he was so loyal to Jorge that he could count on the boy should his life be at risk. In many ways, Alex was like an old attack dog that had taken one too many beatings in his life. He was faithful to his master but a devil to everyone else.

It was perfect.

The man frowned a bit sadly at the boy’s quelled paranoia about S.U.P.E.R. being unable to find him. It was a look of sympathy, with only a tinge of pity. However that look was quickly masked behind a gaze of pride as he reached over and gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.

”No one would ever,” he repeated. ”I’ll keep you safe, my boy.”

As he pulled back his hand, Jorge sighed as he looked out the window again. They were getting closer to the meeting place. He could see the state of the buildings as they continuously grew more and more dilapidated until they were mainly skeletons of structures clinging onto those last bits of life. No one in their right mind would occupy these places willingly, but Jorge knew of the demons and dredges that stalked the darkness. As a matter of fact, he knew preciously which ones were circling nearer and nearer to the meeting place. It was, after all, his business to know.

It was long before the car pulled up to a rather rough and terrifying looking warehouse. It had certainly seen better days and seemed to be clinging onto the last bits of its life. The façade had cracked and crumbled, revealing the brick surface that sat decaying underneath the plaster and mold. All the glass had been broken in, and trash and debris was scattered across the landscape – it truly was a destitute looking place. However, in the crack of space until the massive loading door off to the side showed the faint flicker of light where there should be none. Their guests were here.

Before climbing out of the car, Jorge turned back to Alex and gave him a proud and encouraging grin. ”Are you ready? Hopefully these…Killer Whales and Planes…will listen to reason. But if not…you know what to do, yes?”

"No one would ever, I’ll keep you safe, my boy."

Alex committed those words to memory, the look on Jorge's face, the sensation of his hand on his shoulder. He didn't want to forget a single bit of it. He knew, that despite the man's hard exterior and violent ways, he cared and would always keep his promises. Alex knew he could count on Jorge to be there for him, no matter what.

He nodded, smiling with a grateful expression and then the moment passed. They were going to arrive soon enough and he mentally prepared himself for what was going to happen next. Happy thoughts of Jorge's warm protection were carefully stored away, replaced with ideas and strategies on how to best commit his work. Jorge, no Poseidon, was counting on him to do his best tonight.

He slipped his mask down as they arrived at the building, a hollowed out husk of what it used to be. The sign above the loading door way was faded and graffiti'd over but one could vaguely make out what it once said. Something about fish? Or furniture? Whatever the case, the light beneath the loading door was telling. At least they were dumb enough to reveal that they were here. Though he was bracing himself for an ambush. He didn't trust these guys to be honest about their position. He scanned over the buildings nearby, looking for signs of people staking out or looking to get the drop on them.

Poseidon was powerful sure but a good, silent sniper shot would be all that it would take. It was his greatest fear, failing to anticipate some unknown variable.

"Are you ready? Hopefully these…Killer Whales and Planes…will listen to reason. But if not…you know what to do, yes?"

Alex nodded, setting his puzzle aside in favor of adjusting his gloves. "How would you like it done sir?"he asked curiously. There were two usual ways; with good old physical violence or with his powers. Breaking necks and knocking out teeth certainly had more of a artistic aspect to it, but he also knew Poseidon enjoyed a good show. There was little else that could compare to the sight of multiple enemies being eviscerated from the inside out by all manner of creatures.

They had arrived. Jorge could see the lights were on in the building and knew that those ridiculous gangs were now set up inside, waiting for him to enter. Though he didn’t really know if they were planning a coup in order to topple the king, but he knew people well enough to know that these young bastards were too arrogant to take things slow. They wouldn’t let this this “old man” run around with the power that they wanted to fight over. They were young, headstrong, and they felt like they were immortal. Oh how quickly they were going to learn that that simply wasn’t the case. Though the man held a lofty spot in the ranks of Ragnarok, he was also known to get down into the trenches with everyone else. He too was just as fond of spilling blood.

There was hope that things wouldn’t reach the level of violence tonight but his world being what it was, it was indeed expected. As much as the man was fine with getting down and dirty and setting blood free in the honor of his organization, he also didn’t care for the attention. An a building full of bodies, even an abandoned one, was still a building of bodies. It would take time, effort, and attention to detail to clean everything up before anyone noticed these hoodlums were gone. It was a good thing that Jorge always hired the best for just these occasions.

As the duo climbed out of the car, they made a rather interesting pair. Jorge himself was dressed in one of his finest suits, as he always was, and Alex himself was dressed like some modern reinterpretation of death, what with the faceless mask being slid over his face. Jorge allowed the boy his theatrics, knowing full well that they also served a purpose of hiding his identity from any wayward eyes belonging to S.U.P.E.R. He wouldn’t deny him the animosity he sought after.

>> "How would you like it done sir?"

Strolling towards the doors, Jorge reached out with his senses, feeling the humanoid bodies of water already inside. He knew the people were there and, for the most part, he really didn’t sense anyone who was hiding. As a matter off act, they all seemed pretty clustered together. Maybe they were going to be smart and just sit down for a discussion with the man. Good.

Jorge grinned at the kid. ”Dealer’s choice,” he said, given Alex the opportunity to do whatever he felt was most effective tonight. ”As always, just wait for me word. And, don’t answer any questions unless you feel like you want to.” He gave the kid a nod and marched on. Upon approaching the large, rolling door, he knocked twice, very hard, sending the echo reverberating around them.

Patiently Jorge waited. He could hear the sounds of shuffling inside, of people trying to get into position. Even though they were completely shielded from sight, they weren’t shielded from Jorge as he could sense the water in their bodies moving, almost seeing them as clear as day in his own particular way. He boldly stood before the door, a wicked grin on his lips. They could have easily opened fire and taken care of their competition with but a few trigger pulls, but, they were stupid. One set of footprints stepped forward, the sound of the chain being pulled and suddenly the rolling door began to pull up under it was just at his height.

Jorge grinned as he stared at the much, much younger, tattooed man who had a jet streaking across his chest (that was commitment). His grin was returned with a look of barely controlled disdain from the man. ”Evenin’!” Jorge said with a smile. ”Are we ready to talk some business?”

The tatted guy rolled his eyes as he turned and led Jorge and Alex to the interior of the build where, as he instructed, there was a table with three chairs. Occupying two were the leaders of the Planes and the Killer Whales, and the last one (meant for Jorge) was empty. It was time to get the discussion underway.

"Dealer’s choice... As always, just wait for my word. And, don’t answer any questions unless you feel like you want to."

Alex nodded, "Yes sir," then slipped his hands into his pockets and followed Jorge to the door. The wait was short and you didn't really need any special abilities to hear them on the other side. He tensed for a moment, prepared to tackled Jorge to the ground should the cowards open fire through the door. But perhaps they knew better, no gun fire came, only the door opening to let them in.

Gluttony's eyes swept over the room, taking in the number of men each gang had brought in. More than them, they were easily out numbered, however not out matched. There were guns of course but fewer than he could initially see. Most of them appeared to be carrying bats or knives, he even spotted a machete or two. Lucky them...In close combat he knew he had the advantage, not only because of his powers but because of his training.

If S.U.P.E.R had done one thing right, it was training him to use his body as a weapon, to not rely solely on his powers. He couldn't say that for either of gangs. They seemed generally run on experience not training. Not bad in a fight, but it could only get you so far. Though unnerved by the numbers against them, he was confident they could handle it if thing went south.

He watched Poseidon take a seat and positioned himself behind and to the left of him. He kept his gaze ahead, looking between the body guards the two gang leaders had brought themselves. They were bigger then him in height and probably in weight class too. But that wouldn't matter much, if it really came down to a fight.

This was exciting. Jorge loved these kinds of meetings. He often wondered, mused, pondered what was going on in the minds of these people. Did they understand that the titan that they were toying with? Did they get that they were swimming with a shark with a deep cut on their jugular? No, they were too arrogant, too full of themselves to understand things like this. It was unfortunate, truly. That they didn’t have a grasp of such things but he wasn’t about to correct them before the fun began. Besides, there was always the slimmest idea that they would understand they were in over their heads and give up.

Heh. Oh how he wished that were a true fact. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Criminals, thugs, people like this were far, far too predictable. It was unfortunate, really.

Sitting down inside the room, a smile on his face, Jorge Cervantes calmly assessed the situation. Everyone around him seemed…tense. Just a little but there was a thickness in the air around them, choking, suffocating. It was the air that usually settled over the grounds of a battle about to take place. This would be a battle of wills – to which the younger gang leaders were more than under equipped.

Jorge sighed, carefully smoothing out his pant leg as she folded his hands on his lap, and eyed the two gentlemen from rivaling gangs. It was sweet how they were able to break bread for this little get together, but it was also a little more than just somewhat obnoxious. He didn’t like the idea that these people were trying to undermine his operations, especially when they could be such excellent pawns. But, as always, Jorge would do whatever he had to.

After a few moments, the tense silence was beginning to get on his nerves, still that didn’t allow the smile to falter on his lips. Instead there was a dangerous glint in his eyes, a glint that showed just how dangerous the man could be. So, after a moment, the older man finally cleared his throat before he raised his voice towards the two gentlemen who were trying so hard to give him the stink eye.

”You know, gentlemen, if we’re just going to sit around and glare at one another,” he started. ”You could have at least offered refreshments.”

The two glanced at one another, muttering obscenities under their breath before the one with the plane tattoo on his chest spoke up. “Yo, shut the **** up, old man.”

“Yeah,” the other one, this one with a black and white colored mohawk chimed in. “You called this stupid meeting. But we running it.”

“Yeah,” Tattoo repeated. “What the hell you want anyway? Still trying to get us to stop messing with your hood?”

Jorge sighed. Such riveting conversationalists he was dealing with. Shaking his head a tiny bit, the man straightened his back a little as he opened his mouth to speak with him. However, before he could get a word out, Tattoo gestured towards young Gluttony at his side.

“And who the f**k is this? You said to come alone.”

”Oh, so you did hear me correctly,” Jorge smirked, the devil in his eyes. He eyed and then gestured to the rest of the criminals standing in the wings around the room. ”I can hardly be considered the only one who has broken the rules here.” They clearly didn’t like what he had said as they began to mutter amongst themselves disgruntledly. ”Listen, I’m not here to pick fights. I only want to have a meeting to see if we can come to any kind of…understanding. Him…he is just here to observe. Nothing more.”

Tattoo glared daggers at Jorge before shooting his gaze towards Gluttony. Spitting disgracefully off to the side, he nodded to him. “That true, punk? You just f**king here to ‘observe’ or whatever?”

Gluttony watched silently as the men stared at Poseidon, as if they were attempting to make the man back down with just their eyes. He was reminded somewhat of dogs staring eachother down, the moment tense before any action actually took place, a moment where there was a chance for one or the other show weakness. Poseidon, as per usual, remain calm and smiling in the face of danger. It was honestly calming to know the man didn't waver a bit, that he was so assured that what was before him was under his control.

Finally, Poseidon spoke, "You know, gentlemen, if we’re just going to sit around and glare at one another. You could have at least offered refreshments." The humor in his voice was clear and apparently upsetting to the little thugs.

“Yo, shut the **** up, old man.”

The first spoke and he felt his fists clench in anger. How dare they?! He could have torn them apart right then and there. Yet, he remained otherwise motionless. Poseidon hadn't given the order yet and he wasn't about to act of his own accord.

“Yeah, You called this stupid meeting. But we running it.”

“Yeah, What the hell you want anyway? Still trying to get us to stop messing with your hood?”

Behind his mask, Gluttony glared at the two, eyes sharp with anger. He wanted to growl, give a demonstration of real power. But he couldn't, not yet, not yet. Poseidon was still calm, still smiling in the face of such insult. How the man could do it, he wasn't sure. But that only proved to him how good the man was, how forgiving. There was still a chance that everyone could walk out alive.

And then the men had to point him out.

“And who the f**k is this? You said to come alone.”

Alex remained silent. Letting Poseidon, speak for him. That's right only here to observe, only here to watch. He wasn't important enough to give attention too.

“That true, punk? You just f**king here to ‘observe’ or whatever?”

He merely nodded at the question, rather than answering, since he had been told that he didn't have to answer if he didn't want to. And he wasn't about to open his mouth and potentially spill all his anger out on these two. No, he was here to observe, up until such a time that observation was replaced with slaughter.

Gluttony was a good kid. Jorge knew that. He knew that he was loyal, that he was faithful, that he didn’t have to worry about talking out of line, and mostly he knew that if he were in any kind of danger, the boy would give his life for him. Of course everything that he liked about Gluttony he could have easily gotten from an extremely trained guard dog. But those were mere semantics. Jorge would never verbally voice these thoughts to Alex, but instead merely kept smiling at the ne’er-do-wells whom were glaring at the both of them. They had no idea what they were getting into.

With a sigh, the man tapped his hand lightly on knee. He listened as the duo, Tattoo and Mohawk as he so dubbed them, muttered back and forth to themselves, verbally strutting like peacocks in some vain attempt to appear far bigger than they actually were. They shot spite at him, questioned him, even questioned young Alex by his side. Alex, true to form, merely nodded to their questions, saying nothing of what was going on in this meeting (good boy). The man merely sighed, tilting his head as she peered closely at the punks, a knowing smile on his lips as if he were in on a joke they had no knowledge of.

As they blustered amongst themselves, Jorge let his senses reach out. It was harder the closer he was to a group of people, but still he could vaguely discern how many people were actually in this building. Aside from the six (included the duo) in this room, there was at least four or five others roaming around the interior of the building. His senses, unfortunately, weren’t attuned to see how armed each person was (aside from what he could see and guess) but that didn’t matter with Gluttony at his side. He was well protected.

“Whatever, man,” Tattoo grumbled. “What the hell you want?” He demanded, turning his gaze back to Jorge.

“Yeah! What?” Mohawk chimed in.

Thrilling. Jorge merely sighed as he straightened his posture a bit. Suddenly he looked far more imposing than he did when here was there for only a few moments. He sat up a bit straighter, his expression darkened, and there seemed to be a heavy weight drifting into the room. These punks were no longer sitting in the presence of a man, but of a terrible force with power over one of the most abundant resources on the planet.

”Gentlemen,” the word dripped with sarcasm. ”I called this meeting for one very simple purpose; to talk you out of my neighborhoods. These are good people, honest, only trying to make it by. And the services that I provide, well, it ensure that they are safe. So…with that being said…I would like this little meeting for us to sit down and, I’m hoping, come to a rather agreeable understanding.”


He smiled. Pulling a cigar from a case in his jacket, he snipped the end, slipped it into his mouth and casually lit it with a lighter he pulled from his pocket. Taking a deep draw of it, he let the smoke out in a hazy gray cloud, drifting up higher and higher before dissipating up to the ceiling. With a deep, satisfied, breath, he sighed as he turned his darkening gaze upon the men.

”Otherwise…if we cannot reach an agreement…then I’m afraid the backlash will be quite…” he grinned malicious. ”…unsavory.” Another breath of smoke and the man regarded the two closely. ”So…let’s chat…”