The morning was very different than the night before. There was no touching or motions of anticipation made by either one, and they had settled into a bit of a stride. They weren’t talking and he was driving too quickly, something which Charlie enjoyed. She sat with her feet on the dash as they zoomed through the streets of New York, her face locked in a smirk. There was no amount of speed that would really scare her, really. She’d seen much worse.

There was some unspoken deal that Charlie understood; they wouldn’t talk until he was ready to reveal why he wanted some one night stand of no real consequence to join him back at work. When he was ready to share, then they would discuss things. Until then, they would sit in silence and enjoy the rush of cutting the corners a little too closely.

Jorge parked the car out in front of the bar, which was also very different in the morning. It wasn’t exactly a slimy bar, but there was something about seeing any nighttime establishment in the day that was a little unsettling. Charlie had much experience with that. They drove into a somewhat well-kept garage (as far as garages went) and the blonde saluted the security guard that passed them by.

There was no thought of chivalry as Jorge silently got out of the car and began to walk away. With a raised eyebrow, Charlie followed. Intriguing. He was making her work for what she wanted, which was something that she often liked to make others do. Sometimes it was nice to meet someone that was on a similar level.

She fell into step beside him after a bit of a brisk walk to catch up. Once they were on their way, he finally started to talk. He began to explain that the world she was in was a little harder on mutants and that he did whatever he could to help them. It was a noble cause if she’d ever heard one. Combating ignorance and bigotry with dancing and drinks. A damn good cause.

She listened silently as she slipped through the door he had opened and stood in a grey hallway. He was explaining, so there was no need for her to cut in. That was, until there was a question posed to her.

>>”…where do you stand concerning them?”

The blonde paused and took in his smile. It was foreboding, like he was daring her to say that she hated mutants. If she hadn’t been completely desensitized to that sort of thing, she would have been shaking. It was a good thing that she had a) the correct answer and b) a pair larger than most of the men she met.

”Wherever I want to,” she said, matching his smile. ”I’ve been a mutant for a few centuries longer than most. I’ve seen my share of bigotry and I’ve never been a fan.” She stepped forward and turned back so that the cold light cast shadows over her features. ”Now, is there something that you wanted to show me?”

There was clearly more to this club than what was initially let on. Coming in through the back entrance, this was the behind-the-scenes preview of the operation that Jorge ran. While it didn’t look like much initially, just a few winding hallways that were sterile and cold, someone who was observant would see that there was far more space in this section of the building than initially seemed necessary for the club. While, yes, there needed to be supply closets, storage rooms, and other such spaces, really at most, there should be one or two, not at all similar to what Jorge was showing.

Very few people got to see this part of the club, and those that did were usually far more trustworthy. Yes, there was the odd incident or two (he would make sure remind himself that he needed to have words with Max), but for the most part, everything that Jorge was showing to Charlie was privy to a select few. Maybe she should have been impressed but, really, he didn’t blame her for the blank expression.

Again, all she was seeing were a few halls and a lot of doors.

Oh, and listening to him talk. That was a big time eater. As Jorge walked, he began to explain about the plight of mutants and briefly mentioned that he was a force helping to shape their future. Of course he would explain more, but that wouldn’t be until after he was sure that she could be trusted. That was why, the next conceivable question was asking for her standing on the mutant issue.

He turned, faced her, a dangerous smile upon his lips as he slowly advanced, inquiring where her own stance was. Mutants were usually quick to agree with him, humans were stammering and unsure. But Charlie, she was an all-together different beast as she merely pursed her lips and continued to stare him directly in the eye. The man could respect her boldness, her ability to stay cool under pressure. He was liking her more and more as the time ticked away.

>>”Wherever I want to…I’ve been a mutant for a few centuries longer than most. I’ve seen my share of bigotry and I’ve never been a fan.”

There it was. That was really all he needed to hear to confirm his suspicions. While it seemed that alternates could come in a variety of flavors, the knowledge that Charlie and Charlotte had the same abilities, similar personalities, it just made the kingpin see the woman as the spitting image of the one he already knew. Of course, the man could be flying blind here, but he was actually willing to trust his gut on this one, believing that the two of them were almost destined to meet.

He grinned. Locking eyes with her for a hard minute, the man’s expression as amused and, almost, knowing; it was as if Charlie’s statement that she had seen so much over centuries of time had been easily glossed over. Clearly, it wasn’t news to him.

”I figured as much.”

>>”Now, is there something that you wanted to show me?”

Still smirking, Jorge confirmed with a nod of his head and turned towards one of the doors. Grabbing it by the handle he carefully unlocked it before pushing in. A flick and the lights came on, affording a brief view of the interior. Stepping aside, he gestured for Charlie to join him. Only when she was inside did he close the door and proceed further into his room.

Indeed, this was Jorge Cervantes’ office. The large pane of glass on the wall was a two-way mirror that looked out over the interior of the club, a club that was now quietly and slowly being worked on by maintenance and cleaning staff. The office itself was possessed nice décor, including memorabilia worth a lot of money, expensive furniture (including the sofa he had mentioned back at his place), and a large desk that looked to be made of reclaimed driftwood that was smoothed to a fine polish. It was the office of a man in a seat of power and it exuded power from every corner of it.

As Jorge moved through his office, he didn’t bother to look back at Charlie, merely allowing her to take in the sights. After he checked the mail that was left on his desk, he sighed as he paused and picked up a framed photograph. Staring at it for a long moment, Jorge sighed as he looked up to Charlie, slowly crossing around the desk as he held the photograph in his hands.

”You see, I was honest when I told you that I am a business man,” he started. ”Only my ‘business’ has extended beyond just selling drinks and entertainment. Several years ago, when I first came to New York, I started a...club…you could call it. With like minded individuals.” He sighed. ”We saw how mutants were being treated, especially by the lesser life forms, and knew it was something that we simply couldn’t stand by to watch.” Standing in front of Charlie, he looked down at her, his firm eyes could not be read and were damn next emotionless. He offered her the framed picture.

Wrapped in a gold frame was a picture. Black-and-white in color, the photograph showed a younger Jorge Cervantes standing at the closed doors of the Atlantis Club, but he was not alone: two others stood with him. Flanked on either side was one woman, a bit older than he was but with a clear, dangerous air about her. This was Helena Patricia Lovecraft. And, on the other side of him, was someone who looked extremely familiar – it was Charlie herself, or at least a woman who looked exactly like her.

Jorge said nothing, letting Charlie look over the photograph in silence as he turned to walk back to his desk. Honestly he didn’t know what her reaction would be. She could laugh and mock him for thinking she was someone whom she clearly wasn’t, she could be stunned into silence. Either way, Jorge would roll with the woman’s reaction, but his gut told him that right now, the only thing he could do was sit back and wait for her to talk. So, pulling a cigar from a case in his jacket, Jorge leaned back against his desk, snipped the end, and proceeded to lit it. He would be here when she was ready.

Charlie was intentionally being rather cryptic and not saying anything outright. Her mutation was really all there was to her mystery, so she had wanted to keep it for a good moment. He had directly asked her about mutants, so she’d said something along the lines of being alive for a few centuries, but there wasn’t a lot of information behind what she was saying. She was fully expecting that he would have several questions for her.

Instead, he took what she said in stride. Actually, he seemed to be expecting it, as if he had been waiting for her to say that all along.

>>”I figured as much.”

”Excuse me?” she asked, a little more flustered than she would have liked. No one responded with ‘figured as much’ to the revelation that she, a woman that looked to be about twenty-five, was actually well into her second century. Especially not people from different worlds.

When she looked back, Jorge was already gone. He had waltzed off down the hall somewhere, oblivious to the fact that he had just thrown Charlie completely off kilter. Maybe he hadn’t heard her correctly? Maybe he was thinking about something else? There was no way that he should have reacted like that. No way. Even if he had just figured that she was an immortal mutant, there should have been more processing time. A lot more, in fact.

She took off behind him, shaking her head as she followed into the office. There was quite a bit more explaining that needed to be done, because she was clearly missing information of some kind. She expected it in that office, and if she didn’t get it, then she would force it out of him.

The office was equally as nice as the penthouse had been. Expensive furniture, memorabilia, and a window that looked down on the club. It must’ve been a two-way mirror, since Charlie would have remembered seeing a window into an office like that the night before, even if she had been a little distracted. The whole scene looked like it had had money thrown at it left and right so that it had the aura he desired. An aura of power and knowledge that he wasn’t sharing with her yet.

She stood in the middle of the floor with her arms over her chest as she waited for him to say something. He was standing at his desk, staring at a photograph in a gold frame. After a minute, he finally spoke.

Everything that he said, she was expecting to some degree. The club was built to help mutants in several capacities, and he hadn’t done it alone. Sure. It was unlikely even a man of his power had started out like that alone, carrying the entire enterprise on his back. Still, there was something missing. Why on earth was he telling her all of that?

Blue eyes flickered from Jorge’s face to the photograph that he passed to her. In it were three individuals: a young Jorge, an older woman, and… Charlie. Only, it wasn’t Charlie.

It was hardly the first time that she had seen a picture of herself that she didn’t remember being taken. Her memory was spotty, and, really, who actually remembered the 60s? That photograph was different, though. She knew without a doubt that the woman pictured was not her. There was no way that she could have completely blanked out living in a different world and starting a club; that was too big, even for her s***** memory.

Her throat went dry as she took in the image, her fingers running over the figures pictured. Was it some kind of joke? Some sort of photo manipulation? No, that was absurd. They’d met the day before, and even then, she’d known that there was something fishy about the way that he looked at her. Before that moment, she’d just chalked it up to regular old lust, but now she knew that it was something more. Something that ran deeper than she could have known.

There were so many questions that she had. Did that mean that there was someone running around that New York that looked exactly like her? Was this some sort of test? Did Jorge want her to be a body double for her twin? Did she have her powers? Was she already dead? Rather than asking any of them, Charlie took a deep breath and steadied herself. She needed to get a goddamned grip.

She closed her eyes as she tried to figure out what the right question would be to ask. ”So what is this? You wanted two women that looked exactly the same? Is she going to jump out from a closet or something?” she let out a slow, angry breath. She felt blindsided. ”I want to know exactly what’s going on.”

It was years ago that the Atlantis Club was started. When it did, it was a minor business success but it didn’t have the pop and power that he wanted it to have. He had done wonders back in Florida, the first step on his road to power, and while he had managed to bring some of that flare to the bustling metropolis that was New York City, he still felt like there was more he could do.

He started small. He set up a means of finding mutants, specifically those that wanted to see their own kind thrive. Through them he was able to start building his organization, but they were all street level thugs by that point. His aims were, clearly, much higher. But, through various connections and support, he met the likes of Helena Lovecraft and Devon Hadden. Both of whom shared his views. The three of them managed to make quite the team and, thus, the Syndicate was born.

Charlotte, on the other hand, had been a different matter. While she may not have been a founding member, she was one of his first, trusted employees. A dancer by trade, she soon made a name for herself on the stage, enticing the money out of men and women alike. Jorge had been smitten, of course, not just by her physical beauty but her stubborn tenacity. It was long before she earned a place in his organization and, thus, appeared in that very picture upon his desk.

Now, staring at her doppleganger as she looked over the picture, her fingers running across the glass pane, Jorge was quiet and simply studied her. There were differences, of course, but the similarities were quite striking, especially to those who knew the woman as well as Jorge did. It was the subtleties that did him in and turned the gears in his mind. She was so close to the person his Charlotte was that he couldn’t help but wonder – were they the same across dimensions? And, if they were, would she be willing to pick up where the former left off?

Charlie seemed so utterly confused by the picture that her silence was almost amusing to Jorge. Ever since he had met her last night, she had never been silent once. She always had a witty word or two for him. Now, however, the kingpin had to admit that it was almost endearing to watch her wrestle with uncertainty, but he wouldn’t leave her twisting in the wind for too long.

>> ”So what is this? You wanted two women that looked exactly the same? Is she going to jump out from a closet or something?”

With a smirk upon his lips, Jorge sighed. Oh how he wished that were the case…

>>”I want to know exactly what’s going on.”

Dark, stormy eyes stared directly into Charlie. The man didn’t move as he watched her, instead taking a puff from his cigar and swirling the smoke into the air around them. He understood the woman’s frustrations (as much as he could see them flashing upon her face) but he needed her to be calm before he showed her anything. There was still a lot he didn’t know about the woman and, while he wanted to trust her, he also wasn’t going to be foolish. He worked hard to make the Syndicate and he needed to know the type of woman that she really was before anything was fully unveiled.

”…very well…”

The cigar between his lips, the smoldering end slowly advanced upon the woman as he got up from the desk. Crossing the gap that separated the two of them, Jorge loomed above her as he slowly reached over, his hand briefly covering hers, almost comfortingly, until it was reveal that he was only retrieving the picture frame from her hands. With it in hand, he turned around and placed it back upon his desk, in the exact spot where it had been.

A gesture towards the tray with bottle of aged scotch upon the top and crystalline glasses was offered freely to her. Jorge didn’t make for the drink, however, instead he more offered it to help the young woman process whatever feelings she was currently having. Waiting until she decided on whether or not to partake, he leaned back against his desk, his arms crossed over his chest, one hand balancing the cigar between fingers.

”Let me take a guess at something first…” he closed his eyes, placed his free hand upon his forehead and mimed some carnival telepath trying to guess the lives of an unbelieving patron. ”I’m seeing…a woman…with a power. A power…that simply does not allow her to die…” he smirked, eyes still closed. The smoke that whirled about his face gave him a mysterious, almost mystical air. ”…or rather…doesn’t allow her to stay dead. Instead she miraculous regenerates in the same location every time.” Eyes opened, he gave her a small, almost cruel, knowingly smile. ”Added to that, it’s a deathless death that…scrambles up memories like eggs on the losing end of a whisk.”

He waited for a moment, just letting the smoke continue to swirl and undulate around him. Maneuvering over to the cart, Jorge picked up an empty glass and then snapped his fingers. In an adorning vessel of glass, still water with lemon sitting inside spiked upward, moving in a serpentine manner, filling the glass he held. It was the simplest and most mundane task in the word for Jorge Cervantes, and that was how he treated it. After all, if he knew about Charlie’s abilities, certainly she should know of his as well.

”You see…” he started calm, picking up a small handful of ice to add to his glass of water, before he turned around to face her. ”…you are not the first of...well…you that I have met.” he smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling a little. ”Don’t get me wrong, the woman in that photograph is most assuredly not you…and yet…she is. That is Charlotte. A very dear friend of mine – or…she was.” He sighed, taking a sip from his water. ”…before she died. And I don’t mean in the manner I had described. I had seen that often enough that it hardly fazed me. No, when I say she died, I do mean that she finally and permanently died.” A small smirk. ”So…no…she won’t be ‘jumping out from a closet’.”

It took a lot to rattle Charlie Sinclair. She’d seen a lot in her day, and there wasn’t all that much that surprised her anymore. It was very rare that a situation could really shake her and make her feel something. It was rare that she felt like she didn’t have a bit of the upper hand.

Jorge Cervantes had really rattled her. The picture that she was holding had stirred up something real and scary, and she wasn’t sure how to react. There was a woman in the photo that was her, but wasn’t her.

She held on tight to the picture frame as she readied herself for some sort of explanation. She needed a long one, too. There was clearly no simple answer for whatever the hell was going on. Jorge seemed to be taking his sweet time, though. As if the cigar he was smoking was more interesting than filling her in on details.

The blonde narrowed her eyes as he crossed the room and put his hand on hers. Was he seriously trying to get in close with her? Sure, he’d made the joke about the couch, but it really wasn’t the time to get into that. She was near ready to aim a knee to his crotch and make a break for it before he took the photograph away and placed it back on the desk. He really was mysterious.

He motioned to the tray of drinks next to her, but she shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to day drink right now. She needed her mind as clear as possible to process anything weird.

Finally, he said something. Well, he played with her a bit. The psychic shtick was over the top and downright infuriating, especially when he gave her that smile. Charlie ground her teeth as she watched him, her face twisted in disdain. ”I get it. You’ve seen it before. There’s no need for salt in the wound, yeah?” She was being civil for now. If he kept it up, he would see something a whole lot different.

He paused again after revealing that he had known her power all along. There had never been any mystery. For her, anyway. It was clear from the way he snapped his fingers and the water swirled upward like a living creature that she wasn’t the only mutant in the room. It was amazing how it seemed to follow his commands and move freely through the air, but Charlie stayed still with her arms crossed. Her face was emotionless as her eyes flickered between the man and his display, trying to appear unenthused.

Finally, he explained what was going on. Mostly. She had a doppelgänger that was a dear friend of his, and she had died… permanently. That didn’t make sense at all. For years, Charlie had searched high and low for some way to end her life in a way that would stick, but she’d found nothing. To find out that it was indeed possible when she’d already come to terms with the fact that it likely wasn’t going to happen threw things off. She could die… she could die for real.

She let out a long breath and ran her hands through her thick hair as she tried to process the information. She turned away, trying to get a grip before she actually addressed him again. Mostly, she was amazed that he’d gone that long without tripping up and telling her something. A little angry, too, that she’d been strung along without any explanation when he had so many answers available.

”So let me get this straight,” she said slowly. ”Last night… you f***** me because I looked like an old… friend, was it, that you have unresolved feelings for?” She shook her head and let out another quick breath. It was easier to judge than it was to deal with anything real. ”You, my friend, need counselling. Maybe even more than I do, and that’s saying a lot.”

Her legs wanted to move, to take her for a walk. She had pent up anxious energy that needed to be used, so she began to walk around the room. Suddenly, that day drink didn’t seem like such a bad idea. She moved over the cart where he was standing and poured herself some scotch. She drank quick sips as she continued to move.

”So how did she die?” Charlie asked bitterly. The idea that some other version of her had figured it out when she hadn’t ate her up inside. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted it now, but the idea that she could still have… whatever it was if she wanted it was appealing.

Charlie didn’t seemed to be all that amused by his gifted after of mental acuity. But that was understandable. She was dealing with a situation that was very, very different and one that she simply couldn’t truly comprehend. There was always that idea that out there in the world, there was an exact copy of you. But the issue with that was those copies were just supposed to look like you, nothing more. They weren’t supposed to have your powers, your mind, your life. The simple fact was that the rift was opening barrels full of worms.

Jorge said little else after that, instead moving away to allow Charlie to look over the picture. She was visibly upset so, taking the picture back from her, he set it back on the desk as he moved over to the small table and tray where his high end personal stock of drinks were set. However, Jorge didn’t always have alcohol in the morning and, instead, simply picked up a glass and filled it with chilled water.

Of course it was here that Jorge chose to display his own gifts of homo superiority, by causing the water to swirl out of the pitcher and fill his glass. There was no point in pretending at this point any more as he had already went on his tirade about mutants and the fact that they were superior. Clearly he wouldn’t have said any of this if he weren’t already a mutant and Charlie’s own “subtle” admissions had been enough to clue him on that she was very, if not exactly, similar to Charlotte.

Why not put all the cards on the table?

After doing this he turned back around to face her, smiling in a sly manner as he explained about her double, that Charlotte was very similar to her but that she had died, permanently. Charlotte was indeed a good friend of yes and, yes, the two of them had shared a bed in the past, but it was never anything more than just sex. The two respected and were loyal to one another, but love was just not in the cards for either, whether they were both just incapable or it was by choice. But, that was it and Jorge was fine with that.

It seemed that the death of her doppleganger had been enough to truly pique Charlie’s interest. She stared at him, trying to keep her emotions in check as she let his words sink in. Jorge didn’t interrupt her, but rather he remained quiet, reflective, and observant, studying the woman’s face. He tried to pick up on those subtle identifiers to what she was thinking, but clearly he couldn’t read her thoughts. He was picking up emotions, rather, and most of them were of confusion – then irritation.

>> ”So let me get this straight…Last night… you f***** me because I looked like an old… friend, was it, that you have unresolved feelings for? You, my friend, need counselling. Maybe even more than I do, and that’s saying a lot.”

He smirked, saying nothing at first, but rather just tracked her as she moved across the room to finally claim something to drink. She was shaken, that much was evident. So, taking a sip of his water, he allowed her to continue, in silence, and simply waited until it was his turn to talk. Causing a shouting match was in no way going to help either of them.

>>”So how did she die?”

With a sigh, he pushed himself off his desk, one hand holding onto his cigar, the other upon the glass of water. As he walked up to Charlie, he set the glass down on the tray and leaned against a wall next to her. ”An adapted.” he explained. ”There is an agency in this world. An organization known as the ‘Strategic Unit for Preternatural Experimentation and Research’, or, SUPER.” he smirked as he watched her expression. ”I know. A bit on the nose. But their sole purpose are to keep mutants under the heel of mankind. They are mostly human but with some mutants they’ve managed to convince or otherwise brainwash. However, they also recruit, coerce, and train adapteds, individuals who can turn the X-Gene off just by being in their presence. My dear Charlotte came across one of these agents while working with me.” he shrugged, tapping the ashes of his cigar off into a nearby ashtray. ”I barely got there by the time they plugged a bullet into her head.”

Jorge loomed over the woman, watching her as he regaled her with the story of her alternate self. Watching her for a reaction, observing the drink that she took, Jorge let the silence prevail a bit longer before he leaned down to talk. However, these weren’t the sweetest words of honey, but rather a frank reply to her early comment about the night they spent together.

”And by the way…” he said. ”…I didn’t **** you because you looked like my ‘old friend’.” he said. ”I ****ed you because a beautiful woman was throwing herself at me, and...despite what you might think...I'm not stupid.” With that said, he stepped away from her with a cheeky grin on his lips, once again picking up his glass of water for a sip. Back at his desk, he turned, one leg slipping over the other, arms crossed over his chest as his cigar was set upon the edge of an ashtray. It was her turn to decide how she was going to proceed here. She could either hear more…or walk out the door. It was up to her.

The scotch was gone far quicker than it should have been. Quick sips had turned into long, thoughtful ones, and the formerly rather full glass was empty within a few minutes. She glanced down at it with a sour expression and held it by the top, resting it against her upper thigh. She didn’t set it down quite yet; there was still the chance that she would need a refill.

The culprit of Charlotte’s death was the mysterious group called “SUPER”. Charlie listened with narrowed eyes as Jorge explained what they did and how they killed her shadow self. It was strange, almost as if she were listening to a tale that she could have been a part of, but wasn’t. She wasn’t sure whether to mourn Charlotte’s death, learn something from it, or simply brush it off.

Adapteds were what had made her ultimately stay dead. Of course. Charlie had heard rumours of people that could turn off mutations by just standing near a mutant in her own world, but she’d never come across one in person. Until that moment, the memory of them had been buried and she had never thought too much on the subject. It made sense, though, and it did mean that she had the chance to die, if she so chose. It was a big deal to someone who had come to terms with the fact that she would be one of the world’s few constants for the next foreseeable forever. 

Did she actually still want to die, though? Did she have anything to live for anymore, or was she just making her way through life, waiting to see whether it would give her anything new? The thought sent chills up her spine. It was a decision that she would review at some point when she wasn’t standing there.

She lifted her head as he claimed a reason for sleeping with her; one that was different from what she had accused him of. Her lip twitched, but she remained silent and still, not commenting on any of what he said. There was a time and place for dry humour, and that was not it for her. Her brain was a little occupied.

He had claimed that the club did more than just what a club was supposed to do. They protected mutants and fought for a world that was better for them. That was all fine and dandy to say, but she didn’t know what any of that actually entailed. Mostly, she wanted to know what went on there and what her alternate self had been a part of, especially if they were working against something that actually killed her. There was a lot that was still unanswered, and she wanted to know more.

Sure, there were things that worried her about the situation. There were things that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be involved with. If Charlie had learned anything in her 200+ years, though, it was that she didn’t want to live with regrets. She would regret walking away at that moment.

”So what do you and Atlantis do, if you’re here to protect mutants?” she asked, diving straight for her biggest question. There were things she needed to know before they got into anything else.

It was a lot to take in. Jorge was understanding of that little fact. Leaning back against his desk, arms crossed over his chest, a cigar sitting between his lips, he said nothing else as he merely observed the other woman as she started to make sweet love to the scotch that she poured herself. He didn’t stop her, not at all, instead he merely stood away from her and allowed her take all the time she needed to process whatever she was just told. After all, it wasn’t every day that you learned you had a twin in an alternate universe who died.

Not many would be bothered by such a thing. Though Jorge didn’t know if he had one such as himself in this alternate world, he did understand that he probably wouldn’t be fazed if he had learned of this man’s passing. He was just another person, to him, a stranger who lived his life completely separate from Jorge’s – if he existed at all. Whatever his fate, Jorge was fine with it and doubted it would affect him in any discernable way.

Charlotte and Charlie, on the other hand, were apparently different stories. In a way, Jorge understood. Charlie here, her first inclination was to ask how Charlotte had died. It was something that he had heard Charlotte mention in the past; her great fear that she would never be able to die and needed to occupy her time. It was tragic to hear her talk in such a manner but also it was unsurprising. He could guess that the same must have been for Charlie because she seemed a little more interested in the manner than he would have thought.

But, again, he said nothing. He merely watched her, let her struggle with what demons bounced around in her head, and finish her scotch far quicker than she should have. Luckily there was plenty more where that came from and, seeing her balance the glass against her thigh, it was a second trip that she may in fact be taking soon.

After a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, Jorge watched Charlie as she finally raised her gaze to meet his. She had questions, of course she would. He blew out a puff of smoke from between his lips as he observed her and awaited.

>> ”So what do you and Atlantis do, if you’re here to protect mutants?”

He smirked. His eyebrow arched and he pushed himself off of his desk. He took her question into consideration because, really, there were a number of ways that he could answer it. if he truly trusted the woman, he would reveal exactly what the Syndicate operation had to offer to the mutants of the world. But seeing as she was rather defensive and unsure right now, maybe he should hold back some of it. Jorge considered all this as he moved around the room, stopping in front of the large window that looked out into his club. His eyes drifted over the scene, the empty dance floor, the tables with the up-turned chairs sitting upon them, and so on.

Another puff of smoke whirled about him as he finally turned to face her. ”There’s a number of things that we do. We give to the community. We help those who are struggling to get back on their feet in a vastly prejudice world…” he then paused, eyeing her closely. **** it. ”And we work to ensure that mutants reign supreme.” He moved past her, heading towards his office door again. Opening it, he stopped, turned, and held it open for her to pass through. ”Care to see?”

Charlie’s free hand had migrated to her forehead, where it rested, as if that would help her get a grip. The hand was a physical manifestation of her frustration and just how out of control she was in that situation. She had only tidbits of information, and nothing to do other than asking him more questions and hope that he gave her answers. Essentially, she was at his mercy there. Especially with that whole water show he had just given her.

She’d asked her question, and now he was making her wait for a reply. He was clearly considering it as he puffed away and looked over his club. As if his stance didn’t seem powerful enough from Charlie’s perspective, he had taken a measure to ensure that he appeared even more so. 

With a bit of a scowl, Charlie calmed whatever nerves were left with a second glass of scotch. She poured a large glass, took a sip, and then replaced the bit of liquid that she’d drunk for good measure. She didn’t want to be caught without enough if things got even weirder.

Finally, he began to explain. Smoke swirled around the room, creating a warm, dignified atmosphere as he began to describe exactly what they did. The first part was a given; they were an organization, so they did a bit of charity work and yada yada. It was the second part that gave Charlie pause. They were working to ensure that mutants reigned supreme. That was a bold statement.

There was helping mutants and making the world a better place for them, and then there was taking steps toward a different world. How far did things go? Were they actively changing things? If so, then how far? Were there criminal aspects? Judging from the nature of the club and the general aura of the man, she didn’t believe that it was that far of a stretch. Was her doppelganger really a member of such an organization? She needed more information. Much more.

>>”Care to see?”

”Yeah, I would,” Charlie nodded, taking a sip from the scotch so that the liquid level was low enough that she didn’t have to worry about spilling it as she stepped out the door. She walked a few steps out of the office and then waited for Jorge to lead her farther into the depths.

Common sense would have told him that this wasn’t wise. He didn’t know this woman, not really. He only knew a version of her from a different world than this one. But there was something about her. Not the face, not the eyes, not even the words she said that actually told him differently; rather it was the internal struggle that he could see occurring behind her eyes. If she had truly been unfit to know any of this, she would have gone off running a long time ago. After all, you don’t drop the mutant supremacy line on people and not expect a strong reaction one way or the other. The important factor was that she wasn’t running.

With a grin, the man offered a chance at knowing more. He stopped by his door, holding it open for her as he inquired if she wanted to learn about what her doppleganger was involved in. Not since Willy Wonka offered golden tickets to tour the chocolate factory had a more coveted invitation be offered. The question was whether or not she would take him up on it.

He waited, watched as she drank another healthy bit of scotch, before she turned to face him, fire in her eyes. Oh he knew the answer even before she uttered anything. He could see that fire in those eyes and the set look of determination upon her lips. She was definitely ready to learn more.

>> ”Yeah, I would,”

He held the door open, a slight dip of his head as she stepped boldly through the door, a step that she couldn’t take back if she decided that all this was above her head. Not a lot of people could take the idea of what he was going to show them, and once they did, there was no stepping back from it. The only way weak-stomached people could forget it was with a metal sleeping pill taken between the eyes.

Waiting until she was fully out of the room, Jorge closed it behind him, the automatic lock clicking into place. Once that was handled he stepped forward, taking the lead, again moving within his confident air. Jorge walked the walk of a man without fear, a man who was not in any way scared that he was going to be showing this woman far too much of his inner workings. Truth be told, it was the confidence of a man who didn’t hesitate to make the hard call. If she proved to be untrustworthy, well, he had just the thing to ensure that she wouldn’t talk.

As they marched down the halls, Jorge pushed open another set of doors that led to a small hall with an elevator at the end. Upon arriving, he called the elevator and as the doors slid open, he stepped inside and made room for Charlie to stand next to him.

”You see, Charlie, my associates and are believe in something.” he said with a grin. ”Not some delusion of God or belief in the human spirit, rather, we believe that mutants had a rightful place to take.” The elevator began its descent and Jorge crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall as he observed her. ”The founders and myself united after what the governments did in those atrocious mutant camps. We found that mutants were sorely unrepresented, more than willing to accept intermingling when, in reality, we are being denied our birthright.”

The elevator dinged as it hit the floor below. Jorge pushed off the wall, summoning Charlie to follow him. It was a lobby, large, metallic-white and pristine. There a pair of security guards were behind the scenes, hands falling to their hips but pausing the second they saw it was Jorge; though they eyed the woman closely. Jorge merely waved his hand that she was fine and continued on unimpeded. This area looked vastly different than the rest of the club that was above their very heads.

”Neanderthals fell to Homo sapiens…” he said. ”…Therefore, it stands to reason that Homo sapiens must fall to Homo superior.”

Confidently he pushed open a door that opened into a smaller room. The front wall was completely made of glass and looked over into something that could only be described as a hanger. Down below, men and women worked, some visibly mutated, others freely using their abilities. They moved boxes for shipments, one lead what could only be described as troops, and still others were busy loading trucks. Jorge grinned as he walked up to the glass, turning and gesturing for Charlie to step up and take a look.

”My dear…” he said as he curled an arm down, pressing gently against her lower back and to bring her forward and look out into everything he and the founders had created. ”…this is the Syndicate.”

Charlie followed close behind Jorge, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed. One hand hung just a bit lower and held her scotch tight. There was no telling when or how much she would need of it. Jorge still wasn’t telling her much, which was disconcerting. He had the clear upper hand in the situation, and it didn’t seem like he was going to be relinquishing the hold on it anytime soon. 

Usually, Charlie wouldn’t care much about herself, since whatever happened, she could just come back from it, but there was a catch there; Jorge knew how to kill her permanently. She wasn’t sure that it would be the worst thing in the world, and she wasn’t even sure if it was something that he was going to go through with, but it was still something that she had to consider when choosing the best course of action.

They reached a second hallway, at the end of which there was an elevator. Charlie got inside and stood next to the man, keeping her eyes forward as the little box shot downward. As he began to speak, she glanced at him through the corners of her eyes, her arms still crossed. Again, he wasn’t giving her any straight information. It was all buried in words and poetic phrases, to the point where Charlie was getting a little frustrated. All she wanted was a straight answer to what exactly she was walking into. Even if he simply told her that it was some sort of cult, it would be a better answer than the bulls*** he was giving her.

The elevator lurched to a standstill and dinged, letting them know that they had reached the floor below. The doors opened to reveal a white lobby. It almost looked like a doctor’s office, though she doubted that Jorge was running a free clinic in the basement of his club. It seemed a little less than likely, especially since there were armed guards standing in front of a door.

The blonde took a quick sip of her scotch before following Jorge out of the elevator. The guards looked apprehensive as she stepped outside, but her companion waved them off. Charlie saluted them with a smirk as they walked past. She liked having special access to things.

He pushed the door open to reveal a little room made entirely of a thick, weight bearing glass. It looked like the little hanging boxes on top of the Willis Tower in Chicago, only larger. They were suspended over… something.

It looked like a business floor. What looked like a large group of mutants were performing tasks that could only be referred to as ‘jobs’. If it was just the boxes, then Charlie would have assumed that ‘The Syndicate’ was a factory of some kind, or perhaps a drug cartel. Only, there seemed to be other things going on as well. Groups trained together in another area of the large room. There was definitely something other than the loaded boxes going on down there.

”This certainly is… something,” Charlie mused, hiding the fact that she was intrigued by taking another sip of her scotch. She was still a little put off and she wasn’t about to bury herself further by making it clear that she thought it was something special. ”Now, are you going to give me a straight answer for once or are you going to make me guess what exactly is going on?”

The Syndicate. It was the future. It was the nature of evolution. It was the way of the world. It had been created by people who only wanted to see mutants succeed, to be allowed to take their rightful place at the top of the food chain. Humanity spent far too much time as the masters of their destiny, and when they tried to stifle the next in the line of succession, it was clear that something needed to be done in order to bring balance. It was criminal that these humans were still allowed to be in power when, like dinosaurs, they should have gone extinct long ago.

That’s what the Syndicate was for, the reset the scales and the pull their fellow mutants up. To fight the fight that most were too scared to commit to. Of course, Jorge didn’t blame any of those who didn’t rise up, he didn’t even blame those poor schmucks who were either brainwashed by SUPER or who were misguided enough to try and stop them. They just needed correction, something that the Syndicate was there for.

Looking out over the warehouse, at the training, and the precision of the men and women who worked under him, for the mutant cause, Jorge had to breath a small sigh of relief. He wondered if Patricia or Charlotte would have ever imagined that this was something they would have ever seen come to fruition. In the beginning it was tough, they just had a dream and that was it. They tried subtlety, they tried through legal routes, but in the end, the only way to achieve change was by becoming those dark and scary things in the night.

It was a hard call to make but Jorge knew that it was one that he would make again and again and again. Mutants deserved to have someone who actually gave a crap about them in the world and that person was Jorge Cervantes.

Turning back to Charlie, Jorge crossed his arms over his chest, watching her with a sly smile upon his lips. He looked like a mirror image of her, stance wise, anyways, except he didn’t have a glass of alcohol in his hand, and their expressions were different. While he was calm and collective, Charlie seemed to be enmeshed in contemplation and a tinge of irritation. What she was irritated about, he didn’t know, but instead kept his mouth closed as he waited for her to say…something.

>> ”This certainly is… something…Now, are you going to give me a straight answer for once or are you going to make me guess what exactly is going on?”

He rolled his eyes. Really, Charlotte would have figured this out by now. What did he have to do, draw her a frickin’ map? With a shake of his head, he pushed off the glass wall and approached her, his hands at his side, his dark eyes boring directly into hers as he spoke.

”The Syndicate is here to bring an end to the rule of man. We are an organization that weeks to bring up mutants and topple humanity from the head of the table.” As he stopped in front of her, he reached out, his hands holding her upper arms, giving them a little squeeze as he grinned. ”And I want you to be a part of it.” He gave her arms another squeeze before he let go, clasped his hands behind his back and started to pace. ”The operation runs pretty smoothly as it is. Money laundering, racketeering, buy offs, blah, blah,” He turned to her. ”All of that is handled. And I’m not offering you a spot here simply because you happen to look and act like Charlotte…”

He immediately stopped her from voicing that thought, if she were going to. Truth was that while it may have seemed that way, that wasn’t where he was going with this. Charlie had already accused him of some favoritism before and, while it did seem that way, that wasn’t what Jorge really had in mind. Yes, he did miss Charlotte, but just because this woman looked like her, it didn’t mean he was going to throw away everything he built just because of some nostalgia.

His back to her again, he stared out over the operation. ”…I’m offering because I need someone like you on my team.” he said with a breath. He turned and eyed her again. ”I need a foothold on the other side of the rip. On top of that, I need someone with experience.” He grinned. ”Not that I believe you to be a seasoned criminal, that’s not the experience I’m talking about. What I need is someone who has seen it. Who has lived an impossibly amount of lives and has seen the atrocities that humanity is capable of. I need that experience to help ensure that the Syndicate is making the correct moves and not repeating the mistakes of the past.”

He paused. The air was heavy with silence until he spoke again.

”So…I guess this boils down to one thing; will you stand with us…or against us?”

The organization that Charlie was looking at from their glass tower was a living organism. It needed no direction or orders; each person moved and did exactly as they were supposed to, only shooting a few wary glances up toward the pair in the glass box. It was almost eerie how well things were run, but then again, Charlie didn’t think that Jorge would be someone that you would want to disappoint, especially when you worked for him.

It was an organization, as Jorge so graciously put it into plain words, that was built to bring an end to the rule of humanity in a world where mutants were blatantly oppressed and hunted. It was an ideal that most wouldn’t have any idea where to begin with, but that he was already working toward. He had troops, a hand in the underbelly of New York, and whatever they were loading into that truck. It seemed like things were in place and moving.

So why the hell had he brought her there?

The obvious answer was that she resembled his long lost business partner. Great. Who didn’t love being chosen because of something that their alternate universe counterpart did? Jorge even seemed to acknowledge the implication as he grabbed her arm and offered her a place amongst the employees of the Syndicate. Still, he was claiming that that wasn’t his reason for offering her a position. Charlie gazed at him scrutinizingly. Other than her ability as a natural survivor, she didn’t have much to offer him, and they’d only just met. It seemed foolish to want to bring her in otherwise.

>>”…I’m offering because I need someone like you on my team. I need a foothold on the other side of the rip. On top of that, I need someone with experience.”

The blonde crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. There was no reason for him to offer that position to her. The rip had opened all of three days ago, and already he was looking to expand, and he’d made the rash decision to choose someone that he’d only just met and had no reason to trust. It seemed fishy.

Why did her world even need the Syndicate? Mutants weren’t hunted like they were on the other side, and there didn’t seem to be all that many issues. Hell, the X-Men could run around in their little costumes and no one batted an eye.

Then again, what they were fighting for would be nice on both sides. A world where mutants were in control rather than humans, where they could make their own laws and regulations. She could walk around freely after coming back to life and not have to worry about mutant hating bigots chasing her down. It was an intriguing thought.

>>”Not that I believe you to be a seasoned criminal, that’s not the experience I’m talking about. What I need is someone who has seen it. Who has lived an impossible amount of lives and has seen the atrocities that humanity is capable of. I need that experience to help ensure that the Syndicate is making the correct moves and not repeating the mistakes of the past.”

There. That was a valid reason. That was actually a skill that Charlie possessed, and it did make sense. She was an old soul who had lived centuries on the other side of the rip, so she would have a better idea of what to do over there. Was she necessarily the best person for the job? Probably not, but she wasn’t about to bring that up. It would be a nice change of pace to do something that mattered rather than just taking pictures of dirty men cheating on their wives.

She turned away from him as she considered the offer, watching the moving people below them. There wasn’t any obvious reason for her to say no. She liked new experiences and new jobs, and it made sense for her to do it. If one version of her liked it, then she likely would too.

>>”So…I guess this boils down to one thing; will you stand with us…or against us?”

A long, heavy moment of silence passed. ”Where do we start?” she inquired, her thumb resting against her bottom lip and her eyes still forward. She was in.