It was Saturday, early afternoon. There was no church service, and it was a perfect time for a walk in the park. 

At least, it was for the man he was waiting for. The late winter chill kept his hands in his thicker Kimono, aside from the one he needed out as he patiently copied text from a book onto a scroll before him on the grass. Back against a tree, the Ronin rested and worked to further his craft as he waited for the man. As a light breeze carried a winter chill through the air, the warrior paused his brush mid stroke, and soaked moment of inspiration in.

Lifting his brush, he dipped it once more, and leaned to another blank  scroll laid out to his side, writing thoughtfully in his native scribe.

Long I seek the breeze
Wandering aimlessly on
Resting, it's chill comes.

He set the brush down, leaving the short poem on the ground next to the tree. rolling up the scrolls for his study, he tucked them into their spots on his saya. He then stood, straightened up his robes, and walked toward his target. A calloused hand would reach up to land upon the shoulder of a man with his back turned. 

If the man named Rex Vidales were to feel a hand on his shoulder, and turn to look upon who might be touching him, he would see a somewhat familiar man, decked out in garb he likely hadn't seen him in before. Raijin wore his white suit to the meetings, after all, and now he looked more like he'd stepped out of an old Samurai flick. 

"Ah... Mister Vidales. I thought I recognized you." The slightest hint of a smile would be on the Japanese man's features. Disarming. Friendly. Last he'd seen him would have been not long before he'd stormed out after his snap. The swordsman had spent most of the meetings off in the corner, sitting on the ground, ignoring most of the goings on, so it might seem a bit odd that he was engaging more at this time.

"What a wonder, that I would run into you on such a nice day. From what I have seen, they are few, and far between this time of year." Small talk. Harmless. Let's, you and I, talk about the weather. 

It was, in fact, a good time to walk in the park. Rex had finished his stint at a soup kitchen and thus had his day been left open. Saturday. Normally it wouldn’t have made a difference to him, weekends typically variable when he was on call. Otherwise, he would’ve spent them enjoying time with his family.

Now his weekends were painfully wide open, with nothing to fill them. Even his therapist was closed, being a standard 9 to 5 professional who only worked during the week. Rex wouldn’t meet with him for another three days. Nor was he anywhere near ready to come back to his job, as if they’d even allow him. Not just yet, not until he had a good bill of health from the shrink.

No family, no job meant Rex had a lot of time on his hands. Too much time. Time he hated spending at home, in a place filled with reminders of the life he couldn’t have just yet, if ever again.

Lost in his brooding, Rex didn’t notice when someone approached him. Only when a hand settled on his shoulder did he even acknowledge where he was. He turned. “Yes?”

A smiling man in some kind of kimono or bathrobe. He knew Rex by name, but he didn’t seem familiar to Rex at all. “I’m sorry, have we met?” He frowned as he tried to place the man, but nothing was ringing a bell so far.

Somewhat unruly eyebrows raised a bit at the man's response. "Oh, my friend, you wound me! Surely your memory for faces is not so soft?" He seemed very much offended, though body language and posture was relaxed, and not threatening. He spoke in a deep, booming voice.

"It's me! Raijin! We've met many times!"


He leaned in, and muttered under his breath, his sword sheaths clacking against each other softly in the motion.

"I forgive you... Maybe your awakening left some holes in your memory." A short bow, eye contact maintained, would seek to accentuate his gracious act of forgiveness.

"We must catch up, then!" A hand still rested on the shoulder, and this time it went for a few fairly heavy pats. "Maybe over a few drinks! Tell me, Vidales San... Are you much of a drinker, these days?"

There was an odd air about, here. To the casual observer, he was being friendly; indeed, he did nothing at all to hint at anything being amiss. Why, then, was there this barely noticeable tension about?

The frown deepened, tempered by a lack of memory. “Sorry, I can’t place you. Where did you say we know each other from?” Rex asked. It was odd enough for someone to approach him out of the blue, especially such an unusually-dressed man with...swords?

The swords clacked and there was a bow and then a spark of recognition lit inside of Rex. His eyes widened and then faltered under a glare. “Welldrinker,” he said bluntly. No. No, no, no. Not this. Rex still didn’t recognize this Raijin, but in truth, he wouldn’t have recognized many of the other members of the cult. He’d been out of his own mind so often when attending meetings, he could’ve met the man a hundred times and still not be able to place him. And regardless of their shared history, whatever that might be, or perhaps as a result of it, Rex realized this man’s presence was not one he wished to remain around.

“I no longer drink,” Rex said, brushing off the hand. He didn’t step away but he gave the man his full attention. “I’ve left that all behind me.” Eyes locked tight and fires of conviction burned steadily there. Whether the man was referring to the cult’s doctrine, the alcohol, or that hellbegotten witchcraft, Rex wanted nothing more to do with it.

“Have a good day,” he said stiffly and turned to leave, taking a deep breath as he did. His pulse was picking up and memories were returning, but those were not the ones he wanted. He didn’t want to dwell on those times, those dark days and darker nights.

The initial question was only answered with that same smile as he took in the slightly taller man's expression. Confusion. He really didn't recognise him. Slightly insulting, as he was hard to miss. Then again, he'd never introduced himself, and had mostly just sat in the corner for all of the meetings.

His own expression remained the same as his fellow wizard's shifted to recognition. "See! You do remember me!" He patted him once more, and then leaned in again. "Careful though, friend. Uttering such a word in public is dangerous these days." He nodded.

Being brushed away, his hand moved in a neat loop, aiming to find its way on his shoulder once more. "Shame! We could settle down with some Sake, you and I. Talk about old memories."

He was told to have a good day. As he did, he would do one of two things. If his hand had been allowed to rest on the shoulder once more, he would simply close his fist to grip his clothing and not let him leave. If that wasn't the case, he would step forward and loop his arm around the taller man's shoulder.

"Vidales San... One does not simply leave the well after drinking of it! No, as old friends, I really must insist we have a talk!" He wasn't leaving this man's bubble. For one, he needed to be close enough to cut him wide open the second he tried to cast a spell. For two... Wait, there was no number two.

“You are in error,” Rex said gruffly. “I do not remember you. But knowing your cult is enough.” The man’s hand came back to rest again upon Rex’s shoulder. Rex knocked it off again. “Don’t worry, I’m not revealing your secrets to anyone.” Except to his priest, but that was a sacred trust. Besides, who’d believe him if he started talking about magic cults?

That was one part he kept back from his therapist. The magic. Oh, he mentioned the cult, but not what they believed - there was no way that’d reflect well on him. He only spoke about them as they had fostered….self-destructive behaviors in himself. A society of negative influencers. The metaphysical discussion was reserved for his priest.

Still the man would not leave him alone, and had even gone as far as to wrap his arm around Rex’s shoulders like a drinking buddy.

The thought repelled Rex.

He stopped and stared blank-faced at the man. “I have already told you that I no longer drink. You may take your sake and harass someone else. Those memories are precisely the ones I wish to avoid,” Rex said briskly, sliding into his this-is-how-it’s-going-to-be voice. “I don’t care about your cult. Just leave me alone.” His eyes flashed warningly.

Such defiance. "My cult? Vida-San... It is our cult, isn't it?" He said he wouldn't reaveal their secrets. What did Rai care about that? He wasn't here to make sure this man didn't talk. He was here to make sure he either came back, or wasn't able to talk. Those weren't one in the same.

"Friend... I don't recall saying... I am worried! We are just two old buddies talking, after all! No secrets here."

He secured his arm around the man's shoulder, and gave it a little squeeze. "Oh now, I think you do drink... Or you did. You drank of something sacred, did you not? And now... you just want to walk away. They don't like that, Vida-San. They send me to handle what they don't like." He leaned his head over to the side toward the other man's head, muttering. "Think... about how quickly you can summon your fire. And how quickly I could use my free hand.... To pull this shorter sword, and cut your throat. Which is faster? Are you? I am willing to find out. I love a challenge."

He smiled again. "Or we could talk! Catch up! Make plans for your triumphant return!" His grip on the shoulder would remain firm. Not so tight that he didn't remain spry and flexible in order to respond to movement, but not so loose that he could be easily pulled away from.

He started to walk forward, aiming to steer the other man somewhere, his spare hand resting on the hilt of his Wakizashi.

This encounter was growing wearisome. “It is not my cult any longer,” Rex replied indignantly. “I wash my hands of it. It was a coward’s mistake, a refuge in abandon. I am no longer that man.” He set his jaw. He refused to go back to that place, that dark place where he’d been when he’d opened himself up to all the pleasures and purpose of the cult. He had more important things to strive for now.

But then the penny dropped. The arm squeezed and dark words were spoken. Rex glared as understanding dawned on him. His mouth opened, as words immediately came to mind, but he closed his mouth again. Scripture would not help him here - it would be a death sentence. This Raijin was right.

Rex matched the man’s smile with a bitter, stubbornly stern expression. There wasn’t an immediate way out, not one that he could see. He wasn’t a trained combatant - quite the opposite, really. His gifting of fire had fended off one or two such things so far, but this man clearly wasn’t bothered.

Rex’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but there was no chance the man wouldn’t feel it, as closely joined as they were. “Fine. Let’s talk,” he bit out, despising the taste of the words as they crossed his lips. He allowed the swordsman to start leading him. God, have mercy on me!

The statement drew a head tilt from the man with his arm wrapped around our would-be do gooder. "A man does not become another man. When one makes a choice, one must... live with the consequences of their choice. In this case... You took something, and the expectation, was that you would give back." He squeezed the man's shoulder. "You understand. You have not given back yet. You will."

After the tense little bout of words, the Japanese man guided Rex, not to a quiet back alley or a dark dockside, but rather to a rather crowded coffee shop. It was a chain out of seattle, with a wide eyed merman clutching his fins as its sign. He found them a place to sit... he did this by picking a seat, and starting to sit, even though there were other people there already, simply using his free hand to push one of the men out of the way.

After standing there confused for a moment, the group of four wandered off. "Like my choice of a place to sit? Here, you cannot use your powers without making quite a scene." He let him have his own seat, sitting across from him at a small table. Raijin had, of course, taken then seat closer to the door.

"Now! Vida San! Tell me.... Why did you leave?" He settled into his seat, smiling innocently, his posture that of someone catching up with an old friend.

Rex didn’t want to believe this Raijin’s words. He wanted to dismiss them as cultist propaganda. Cult’s wanted you to feel your worst, that’s how they ensnare you. That’s how they’d ensnared Rex. Except he was breaking free! He wasn’t part of that cult anymore!

Wasn’t he?

Raijin seemed to disagree. Quite lethally so. Bitterness mantled Rex as they changed course and soon came upon a cafe.

It was something of a surprise, the choice of location. Yet the man’s words resolved that quickly. In truth, this man did know Rex’s capabilities - the people around them were hostages held to ensure Rex’s good behavior. They didn’t seem to be protection for the man though - Rex sensed that one on one, this person was still able to fend for himself just fine.

When the table cleared, Rex said woodenly upon a chair, his pose perfect and so, so stiff. He did not cross his arms, if only because his hands were squeezing the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

“That cult of yours is evil,” Rex intoned bitingly. “An abomination upon the soul. Foolish was I not to realize it until too late.” A sour smile appeared. “It seems as though my sins have come to find me out.” He leveled a solemn stare at the out-of-place man. “Is that why you’re here? To suffer not a witch to live?”

They really couldn't be more different in juxtaposition, the stiff, modern man sat across the loose Samurai out of time. Still, Raijin's ability to make others pale at a glance if they stared too long only needed to be used a couple of times before people reverted to their usual New Yorker ways and ceased paying attentino to them at all.

"Ours. Vida-San, it's our cult. You have taken just as much as I." He stared at the man for a long few seconds, and shifted to get comfortable in his seat again. "I find the concept evil to be largely... subjective. One man wants, the other man has, that man is evil until he gives it to the other man or dies. Many attempts to justify this over time have not proven to me otherwise."

This man. Reeked. Of religion. Not the harmless type, either. He spoke of his sins coming to find him. Raijin frowned for the first time "I have come. As a result of your actions. It is interesting, while I am not familiar with your tern, your vocabulary mimics many who would not... What was it? Suffer a witch... to live."

He smiled again. "I, on the... other hand. I do not want to see you die. I have been sent to see you pay your dues. And to find out more about why you left."

Rex matched stare for stare, unmovingly. He forced himself to not grind his teeth as this man continued existing. “I would undo it if I could,” Rex said. “I would take back those two years. All I can do is cast them unto the sea of forgetfulness.” He didn’t rise to the man’s view of evil. There was no point. Evil was not subjective - it was very black and white. Witchcraft was an abomination.

Rex was an abomination.

He noticed the man’s frown. He was noticing many things about the man. He had Rex’s undivided attention. The single brief moment of disruption to that perpetual amiableness was interesting, possibly even useful.

“I had a revelation that night,” Rex said, still unwaveringly from his position. “I saw your cult...” and he emphasized the your specifically, “...for what it is. It teaches anger, hatred, and false doctrine. It feeds the darkness in the hearts of men. This thing that I did? Weakness. Weakness of mind and spirit. Mere prey to temptation. I succumbed and may God have mercy upon my soul.”

Rex’s eyes darkened and he leaned in. “Did you hear the words I spoke that night? Don’t!” he said quickly, raising a hand in quick forestallment. “I’ll not repeat them. But do you know what they refer to? They are from the book of Exodus. It is the story of a people who had lost their way, who had succumbed to the teachings and riches of another people, forgetting what had been precious and important to them. When they finally remembered, they left, and a pillar of fire would lead them through the night to safety.”

Rex smiled mirthlessly. “I do not want your teachings, nor your riches. I choose the person I was before, and who I can be again - not the hateful, horrible person you knew.”

"Unless you have learned to travel in time... I see no point in worrying about such things. You cannot take it back, and it is a cowards path, to choose to forget." Wishful thinking was this man's forte, it seemed. Religion was a good fit after all.

Still, he was showing some spine. Standing his ground. Raijin smiled again. He felt it just then. The tension in the conversation, like a blade awaiting flight from its sheath. Like a predator awaiting the perfect opportunity to pounce his subtly prepared to move, a set of tensing and relaxation of specific muscle groups that only a trained eye would catch.

This could be the moment before he sent this man's head spinning from his shoulders.

Still, he sat, seemingly calm and relaxed. "Vida-San... You summon flames by quoting scripture... It seems as though... God will not have any mercy for you."

Raijin's head slowly tilted as Rex leaned in; he quietly calculated the angle and range for a quick kill. He spoke as if he were going to repeat his little biblical incantation, there was that thrilling moment of being about to act upon the tension filling the space between them before he was shut down.

Of course. He wasn't going to do it. Right. He was a coward.

"Ah, so you will lead us to salvation, Vida-San... How will you do that, while trying to deny you ever were involved?

He shrugged, and leaned back after the last statement. "I do not care. Not to teach you. Not to give you any riches. You already have what you have taken. Pay with action, or pay with blood. Your choice, Vida-san. I can not say I mind either way... at this point."

The air around them was nearly crackling. Undercurrents of rage and fervency vied for power against serene lethality and promised destruction. Rex could practically taste it, and bitter that air was. He could also taste bile in his mouth as he thought about having anything to do with that heretical cult.

The swordsman utterly misunderstood what Rex had meant, but Rex reflected that he wasn’t used to giving sermons himself. He wasn’t about to argue religion or God’s plans with this man, that’s for sure, not even about something like mercy. Every word this man uttered was like a viper striking with deadly fangs and Rex was not going to take the bait.

Except for one last thing. “Again, you err. I do not deny my participation,” he said. “The path of repentance is barred to those who refuse to realize their sin. I am leading nobody except myself anywhere, and that is as far from this sorcerous cult as possible.”

Rex’s tight smile had vanished. Stern solemnity was all he was emoting, a sharp contrast to the ever-moving, nearly languid man across from him. Rex’s patience finally wore out. “Yes, yes, again with the dead threats,” Rex said, sharply swatting the words aside with a wave of his hands. “You made that clear earlier. So name your price. What ‘action’ do you want from me?”

On the inside, he was crumbling.

"Are you not the pillar of fire, Vida-San? The guiding light?" He chuckled, taunting him with the alternative interpretation of his words. "Maybe your god tells you you will burn? Burn others?" His hand rested on the pommel of his sword as he leaned back, and waved toward the counter.

Not being the type of place that gave table service, the Ronin's actions were completely ignored, as the place had a long line of grumpy people who hadn't had their coffee yet. "Hnnn... I do not like places like this. They forget the meaning of service." He turned back to Rex to see his face reflecting his emotions once again.

Good.

Rai leaned in, place his elbows on the table, and his head upon his clasped hands. "There we are. No veiled pretense. I need something. You give something." He smiled.

"This chain's been in... Trouble lately, did you see the news?" Those pauses, where he seemed to stop and consider his words at times... They added a sort of tension to his speech, though at the same time it seemed as though he were displaying that he had all of the time in the world; Like he was chasing you, walking while you ran and not falling behind. That, or it was indeed hard to find the right words, English being his second language.

"They have been shown to be... averse to hiring mutants. They are in hot water for it. Many protestors. Peaceful, so far. Until today. When an angry mutant... burns this location to the ground." He leaned back once more.

"That, or it's a mutant-caused electrical fire... I think, though, if we do it the second way... No one makes it out alive. Do you understand?" The subtext here was obvious, right? Rex knew there were those in leadership that wanted to see Mutants fail, die, or disappear as a whole.

Raijin had been tasked with stoking the fires, so to speak. Rex was here to by the tool that got the job done. In hindsight... It really had been odd that such a man would walk into a place so far off from his aesthetic, wasn't it?