One hunter.  Two hunter.  They came at her then they came at her again.  Why couldn't they just let her live in peace?  It wasn't like the was hurting anyone, not really.  She and her pets, they kept to themselves mostly and they only stole food when they were really hungry and clothing when they were really cold.  But no, she was different, she looked different and acted different and they were afraid of her and because they were afraid they hunted.  Shard didn't like to be hunted.  She didn't like to be hunted and she didn't like to be tagged like some dangerous animal.  It made her angry.

So she had run the first time and gotten away and then the second time, she had run as well.  The problem was, they kept coming.  She might get away for a day or a week or a month but in the end they'd find her again and come after her again and she just couldn't get away.  She just couldn't.  But then she found a friend and she helped him and that friend offered to help her in return.  Go to the club Atlantis, he said, and there she'd meet meet someone who would be able to help her.  Well, that sounded fun.

It was a club and she had no clothing appropriate for a club.  Well, only one way to fix that.  There was a pretty  little blond girl wandering alone near one of her usual haunts, all alone the stupid creature.  She looked to be around the right size.  A small swarm of bright crystal bats, gleaming reds and greens and purples, descended from the sky directed by Shard's mental command, and flew around the girl's face.  Wings brushing pale flesh, she bled as shallow cuts appeared wherever they made contact.  "Strip and give me your clothing," she commanded from a short distance.  Whimpering and terrified, she had done just that.

The clothes looked good, at least from Shard's limited experience.  A halter top and fake leather jacket as well as a black skirt and fishnets.  None of it quite fit right, especially the shoes, but beggar's can't be choosers, right?  And gosh, it sure was difficult to walk in shoes with inconvenient heels but she probably should look the part.  Fortunately the woman's purse was large and, once everything was emptied out of it, there was plenty of room to store her 12 crystal bat pets, none larger than a mouse.  Probably couldn't smuggle anything larger than those in with her, but they would do in a punch, loyal lovelies that they were.

Until she was close to the club, she took the stupid heeled shoes off and walked in her bare feet.  Usually, she didn't melt the psycrystal from her feet because she didn't like shoes in general.  Presently, most of her psycrystal growths were hidden, with extensive growth on her back and torso and only a few small patches on her face, neck and arms.  A block from the club, she put the hated footwear back on and approached the bouncers with a confident, if slightly unsteady, stride.  "I need to speak with Jorge Cervantes."  

It was a good night. The music was blaring, the alcohol was flowing, and it was packed out. Some huge group had come to the club to celebrate and while Jorge wasn’t overly fond of the hipster vibe that they brought with them, he was more than ecstatic to take their money. The doors were opened wide and they piled in like attention seeking monkeys, ordering increasingly complicated drinks and dancing in their fedoras, peasant skirts, and blazers over t-shirts. The air inside the water-themed club was absolutely electric and precisely what the man liked to see in his establishment.

Standing at the bar, the man smirked to himself, smoking his cigar as he watched the band on stage perform a particularly haunting and energetic tune that pulsating through the walls of the club. Even the glass windows that displayed the underwater paradise below quivered and shook, threatened to collapse under the harsh soundwaves. It was an added sense of threat, one that the patrons either accepted or didn’t pay attention to; Jorge loved it.

Just as the song began to tremble through his body, he was approached by one of his security team who was stationed nearby. A few seconds ago he placed his hand to his ear, listening in to the chatter that poured out from his earpiece. As the large, bald man marched up to Jorge, the crime boss tilted his head towards him, never once taking his eyes off the band on stage. He listened as the man whispered to him the details of an incident that was happening outside.

The man grumbled and pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket. His first instinct was to tell the guard to send individual who was asking for him away, but he knew to be cautious about such things. He did have an image to keep up. So, through his phone, he pulled up the security feed of his establishment, tipped and tapped until he brought up the camera that was situated just outside the front door.

The woman looked rather…ragged. Her clothing seemed ill-formed to her and there was something of a strange air about her person. Was she just someone seeking help or was this some form of ill-advised hit on his life? Very few people asked for him by name, at least those whom he didn’t already know. This person, however, was unfamiliar to him, so how did she know him? He clicked his tongue a few times in his mouth before curiosity finally got the better of him. He whispered and ordered to the guard to relay to the others to keep the woman in place. He would meet her personally. They would be on standby if she tried anything funny.

Dropping his phone back into his pocket, the malicious watermancer set his cigar back between his lips as he moved across the bar, reached the staircase and marched his way up to the front doors. Those employees his passed nodded their heads to him respectfully, a few of his more familiar employees greeting him in a friendly but respectful manner. As he reached the front door, he pushed them open slowly, exiting from the building in a thick cloud of cinnamon scented smoke. As he stepped outside, he greeted the bouncers and turned his eyes down to the young slip of a creature who had been asking about him.

Standing over her, Jorge arched his brow. He cut an intimidating figure and the thin, malicious smile that stretched his lips was both terrifying and confusing at the same time. He tilted his head, scrutinizing the young woman before he pulled his cigar out of his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke, respectfully, off to the side, before turning his gaze to her.

”I hear you’re looking for me,” he said. ”How can I help you, darling?”

Even from outside, Shard could hear the blaring music inside the club.  Loud music, crowds of people and copious amounts of flowing alcohol making those all ready loud people stupid and sloppy was not her idea of a good time.  In fact, it was pretty much the opposite of everything she associated with good.  Humans were agrivating, stupid creatures.  Her pets were so much better, obdient and quiet and they did everything she wanted them to do all the time.  Humans should be more like pets.

For a time, she was made to stand and wait which was yet another thing she had little familiarity with and more than a little hatred of.  There were many things that could be said of living on the street, many of them not exactly positive.  One of the things that was rarely spoken of, however, was the independence and freedom.  She had only herself to be accountable to and only herself to care for.  No responsibilities, no waiting and no one to tell her she couldn't do something she wanted to do.  For once, however, she'd condescend to wait.  The results had better be as worth it as she had been led to believe.  

Eventually someone stepped outside.  He looked to be in his 40s and was dressed quite well.  Something about his expression or the way he carried himself said he was dangerous.  Well, she could be dangerous too.  Nothing obviously spoke of him being a mutant but that was the case for most mutants, wasn't it?  The lucky mutants.  

"Gluttony told me I should find you.  Said you might be able to help."  She looked back and forth from one of the bouncers to the other and to the small lineup of people that was still watiing to get inside.  What to say in front of such people?  Probobly not much.  She said nothing further.

Towering over the younger woman, Jorge tilted his head as he observed her. He liked to pride himself on his ability to size up the people whom he met with. It helped him to gain an edge over them to learn things about them before they were ready for him to know. He knew if he scared people, if he made them feel comfortable, and most of all, he knew how they could be manipulated. However, none of those went into play right now as he eyed the young woman, but there were still points of observation to take note of.

The most important thing was that she truly was a mutant. He couldn’t see it on the feed clearly, but up close he could see the sparkle of jagged gemstones sticking out from her flesh. It was a beauty to behold and a sight that he could already see causing her a great deal of harm. People, after all, were ignorant and would probably see the sparkles as a personal goldmine for them. Then again, Jorge didn’t know this woman’s background, only that she wanted to see him.

So he inquired, was she looking for him? He was a patient man and didn’t express any displeasure with having to wait outside his own club for her to talk. He could hear the sounds of those people in line, trying to get his attention, some of them claiming to have been to his establishment before, others promising to do anything to get in. While all of that was intriguing, the man paid them no attention as he simply waited for the woman to speak.

>> "Gluttony told me I should find you. Said you might be able to help."

”…” he said nothing as he watched her. Taking his cigar from his lips, he tapped the ashes off and let them fall gently to the concrete. His gaze scrutinized her closer, as if wondering if her actions were genuine or not, however if he didn’t trust her, he didn’t say it. Instead the man simply nodded his head. ”…Follow me.”

Turning he waited for the bouncer to hold open the door and stepped back into the cool interior. He wouldn’t descend down the steps until the young woman was at his side; once she was, he would led the way down the staircase that would lead to the loud, musical club. Pulling the cigar from his lips again, the man addressed her once they reached the main floor.

”You must be in trouble,” Jorge commented. He waved for her to continue to follow.

Through the din of music and flashing lights, Jorge confidently strode through, his eyes resting upon the back door that would lead to the much quieter areas of the club. Upon arriving at it, he stopped, opened the door and bid her to follow. From there, he pushed in another door that led to his office.

His office was decorated quite elegantly. Expensive memorabilia adorned the walls and shelves, furniture of repurposed driftwood was perfectly laid out. On one wall, to the left, there was a huge pane of one-way glass that looked out over the dance floor and the patrons partaking in their drunken ways. Behind his desk was another window, but this one looked out underneath the river that his club was situated under. Jorge moved to his desk before he turned and gestured for her to take a seat. He blew out another cloud of smoke before he spoke.

”So…Gluttony, huh?” He rolled the cigar between his fingers. ”You must be in a heap of trouble if he sent you to me. What…did he tell you…exactly? And what’re your troubles?”

Shard nodded and followed as instructed, not saying anything further as they made their way through the throngs of people.  How could people stand being in such crowds with that kind of noise coming from all directions.  It made her anxious and when she was anxious she was liable to be violent and unpredictable.  Even in small numbers humans were often a trial to deal with, she couldn't imagine by she would ever want to be among them in large numbers in such a cramped space.  

Clutching her stolen purse as she walked, she took solace in the fact that her little pets were in there, just waiting for her summons should they prove needed.  Emotionally unstable she might be, but she was smart enough to know that it wouldn't be a good idea to attack any of the patrons of the man who was supposed to be helping her.  No, that wouldn't be a good idea at all; unless they did something to provoke her and then self defense was always reasonable.

Fortunately, their time spent among the crowds of people was blessedly short and upon arriving in the office, she noticeably relaxed.  Still slightly twitchy, she took the offered seat.

"I'm being hunted.  Twice now they've come for me.  Its because I'm a mutant."  And a thief and sometimes more violent than circumstances warranted.  But mostly it was because she was a mutant.

Gluttony knew better than to open his mouth about him. Jorge knew that. He knew that his name wouldn’t be dropped unless it was for something important. He knew all his loyal members of the Syndicate were good people, all of them following his rules and making sure to never draw too much attention to themselves. It was a good system and one that the man had been able to ensure that his organization ran smoothly. But now it seemed that things had taken a turn and someone knew ended up on his doorstep. Jorge was not entirely opposed to others knowing of his activities, so long as they knew what he wanted them to know.

From the look of this younger girl, she was in trouble. She looked disheveled and was wearing a dress that didn’t seem to entire fit her. It was close enough to her size that he wondered if maybe she had picked it up at some thrift store or some kind. Not that the man had any real notion about female clothing, but he knew well enough what worked and what didn’t. So the appearance and the paranoid look in her eyes just painted the picture of someone who needed help. But what kind?

After they had made their way into his office, where it was much quieter, the man turned and crossed his arms over his chest as he stood still and watched the young woman. He commented that she must have been in a lot of trouble if she had found her way to him and inquired what her troubles were. That would clarify what help, if any, he could give her.

>> "I'm being hunted. Twice now they've come for me. Its because I'm a mutant."

He sighed and lowered his head. He already had an inkling as to what was happening. From the looks and sounds of it, it had all the earmarks of a S.U.P.E.R. tracking. He sighed as he turned his neck, cracking his vertebrae before returning his gaze to her. The most important question was next, the one that would decide whether or not he could even help her.

”Tell me,” he said as he took a puff of his cigar and respectfully blew the smoke away from her. ”Did they tag you?” he asked mysterious. ”Did they inject anything into your body?”