The golden doors of the Sanctuary.Once a mystery, hidden from him due to his failed interview with Miss Duskmoor. He had been approaching things the wrong way in general. In Australia, after several weeks training with boomerangs, it occurred to him that having a unique, indestructible weapon would tie him to events and crimes. He could hardly wash himself clean of identities lugging such a deadly anchor. So he quit the school and sold the adamantium ore on the black market. Money would no longer be a problem and this time it was so clean, seeing it would make one's eyeballs squeak in their sockets.

It had taken some time to master the whitewashed American accent. A solid month of it cleared out every single lilt of Britain, leaving him to blend in seamlessly with the humdrum populace. The idea of the Kabal was moldy. The Mansion was repulsive. he had displayed his talents on both fields and could be remembered, however slightly. The Order rejecting his advances had been a blessing in disguise, as his fresh face was now the ultimate icebreaker.

Stride unbroken, Roland opened the golden doors, surveying the foyer and the chairs that he had inhabited so long ago. His eyes then turned to Lisa, the dutiful and everpresent secretary. A smile graced his face, stretching the stubble. A small knapsack of second hand clothing and simple toiletries was slung over his shoulder. He stepped up to the desk and in response to a raise of eyebrows, he took the initiative. "Name's Joe. I heard I could hang my hat here."

Lisa opened her mouth and Lori's voice came from around the corner. "And what is your last name Smith?" She always sounded sultry and about 6 inches taller than she actually was. Yeah. Sometimes she was disappointed too.

In her sensible french curl and heels, she maybe looked like a 17 year old playing office. She handed Lisa a contract and held out her hand expectantly. Lisa, who had frozen for a moment accepted the filled form, checked it with a glance to make sure nothing was left empty or obviously wrong before rustling around in a lower cabinet for a manilla folder.

The hierarchy was clear here. Lisa answered to Lori and both parties were used to the idea. "So what can you do, Joe?" She said the name with a hint of amusement. She wasn't used to the name "Joe" in reference to a non-plumber. The file came to Lori who cracked it open before nabbing a pen from the desk and motioning to Joe to take the papers.

"And what is your last name Smith?" The voice was smoky and sultry. It licked Roland's earlobes as it slinked from the shadows. The secretary quickly became background. " Pick a last name for me. Or a first if Joe doesn't suit you. Either should be as valid." The form that followed the voice was shorter, but was no less potent. her energy was through the roof. Call it charisma. Call it moxie. Call it yum. Thsi was the boss and Roland could think of nothing else than where all that untapped aggression could be put to better uses.

Papers came in his direction and he looked at them with a hint of distaste before placing them on the desk. Aliases galore could be filled into the blanks, as they had been time and time again. Roland's interest was on the blond. He was sure she would cater to that and he felt like staring for free. "I lie, cheat, steal, kill...misbehave in general. What do you do?" He closed the distance between them by a step or two." Better yet, when do you do it? Is it off the clock or always business?" he could almost smell her scent from his position.It was something like sweat and ozone.

A metallic clipboard, formerly on a nearby cabinet, found its way to Roland's hand, as did the pen from the secretary's hand. the papers had to be picked up, but he pretended to do so on purpose, for dramatic effect. Clipping them into place, he began to make nice with the bureaucracy while moving ahead with purpose. "Word is on the street that this is the place for mutants looking for work to come. Is that the case?"

Lie, cheat, steal, kill. And he just walked in off the street? Lucky Lori. "That is my business." Since she didn't back down, two steps meant her full body survey was cut short. Lori dragged her eyes back up to the appearing objects before flicking up to the face that belonged to the anonymous man. Lisa sighed and pulled out her drawer for a replacement.

"And we just happen to be hiring." Lori offered her hand. A first step in figuring out how to get inside that pretty little head. She needed him to talk more and maybe for her to sit down to really delve deep.

As for a name? "I'd say you should just go by your mutant alias, but what are you? Blinky?" The exact parameters of his mutation weren't evident, but a least he'd proved his active x-gene. And she did appreciate that he took up the paperwork again. Seeing it set aside was almost a black mark on his page.

"Follow." Lori turned toward the office that had once belonged to one Garrett Wills. She only had one or two things left to clean up. And no more phone calls. At the thought she unclipped the choker covered in static wicks that had encased her neck. They didn't always spark, but they did always work.

She didn't back down. It bought her some respect and made her vastly more attractive, as if she needed help in that department."That is my business.and we just happen to be hiring."Roland put the trademark half smirk on that suited him best, regardless of the face it stretched over. "[color=Must be my lucky day.[/color]" He took the offered hand and returned the strong grip he had expected to receive. The doll had a penchant for making sure no one took her lightly. Who had a chance with all of the chest puffing? Whatever the case, he was already in like Flynt and just had to play the interviewee, something else he excelled in.

"I'd say you should just go by your mutant alias, but what are you? Blinky?" She was testing him, trying to find out if he was a short fuse or a cool character. Roland intended to mold the persona into whatever made him most attractive, so he continued to play with her until he found the right method, the sweet spot that produced results."I've gone by many names. You pick the one that suits me best, but let's give it more than a minute and it might not be Blinky. Of course, Blinky is just as efficient as anyone else."

Carrying the clipboard and papers with him, he easily followed as directed. He wondered if the silken strut of her hips was practiced for his benefit or natural. He'd have to make a point to watch more intently and more often to be sure. For scientific purposes. As they entered an office, Roland took care to ease the door closed behind them. It made for more pleasant conversation , though the room could easily be bugged. It had been easy enough for him to bug these places. he took a seat and waited to hear about Blinky's future.

She said follow and he did. She prodded him for some depth of character and got an overly verbose zilch. Well, one in one wasn't all that bad. And the more he talked, the more the little sparks of bioelectrical current zipped around his brain. Really. She needed to sit down to focus on exact placement. Shame. She would have really enjoyed the thoughts behind Mister No-name.

And she wasn't about to pass on another passive, obedient dog. "Joe is fine for now since you're feeling so dodgy on the subject." She would have to know him a bit better to pick a suitable name. Besides. The man with no name was called Joe in A Fistfull of Dollars. Not that he was a Clint Eastwood, but he had a good start as far as Lori went.

Lori pushed open the office door and slunk around the desk to toss the neck wicks down and grab up a few things before she took a seat on the side of the desk. She was just out of easy reach, but didn't put any physical barrier between them. "Sit." And he did after closing the door. She crossed her legs and worked at the wicks at her wrists next. This suit didn't have any built in.

"So where did you come from?" Outer space? Or down the street? It didn't really matter so long as he was talking. She wanted in his mind. And now she had the force of will to focus on what was needed to hear what he was thinking.

Once she took a seat across from him, Roland began to get the vague inklings of deja vu. She seemed very familiar to him for some reason. In the meantime, he made an effort to ignore her question and ask one of his own. "Speaking of being dodgy, what's your name? This isn't exactly the type of place where people wear name tags, but while I am here to work without supervision, I like to know the boss' name.." She wasn't so made up and fitted when he saw her last. Where was it?

She was reading him, or trying to. Whether or not she had telepathy was hard to tell with her poker face, but he maintained his unused alias and dossier, similar to interrogation tactics. If you believe you are a person enough, even the sodium pentathol would reveal it as your given from Mom and Dad. " If you need an alias for your files, I will be happy to give one that will come out as clean as a virgin's underwear. As far as where I am from, I don't think it is really relevant. The relevance is that I can work for you, on or off the books, and get the things you need done accomplished. i am sure a young girl like yourself could use a hand." But where to put it?

Roland eased back in his seat as the face clicked in his mind. The girl curled up in the Escalade. He had saved her and her male friend with the mouth from a lynching one night. He had then dropped them off at the Mansion. Only the new face kept him from being outed on the spot, to a point. While she would only remember him as the snarky stranger, her mention of such a blond haired Brit to others in her circle could definitely get the wrong word of mouth around. New York was getting smaller by the second.

Her name? She so used to dodging that issue that a myriad of options flicked through her mind, a thorough distraction from the stranger's mind, before she realized that she was pretty much locked in to the truth these days. Lori tossed the first bracelet of pyramids down on the surface of the desk and slid it away from where she was sitting before working on unhooking the next. Her dexterity just wasn't what it used to be.

"Lori Faust." The days of her skating through on a false identity were gone. She missed them dearly at this moment in time. "If you have virgin's underwear then you may keep it tucked away for a rainy day. Virgin's have a habit of fast corruption around here." Lori regarded the man for a moment. Even her finger's fumblings were forgotten in her inspection.

The squarish jaw combined with the way he sat and the way he feasted with his eyes with little remorse... This called for something with a bit of substance and a little history. "If I get to choose something off hand, today I feel you will be Dean. I think I like the name Dean." She had yet to settle on a last name, but she wasn't used to choosing male names or living so vicariously.

"You're right about where you're from. It really doesn't matter as long as you know where you're going." She looked at him, in him, as much as she could. There was no way he was a bland inside as he claimed. She had a vague impression of... herself. He was thinking of her. And a car.

Lori made a tch sound with her mouth as she finally released the catch and tossed the last bond aside for the day. It made a dull plunk against the thick papers on the desk.

He was a tough egg. Interesting enough on his own to distract her away from his thoughts.

He didn't have to worry about his paycheck. Their books were custom tailored. The issue was where to put him in their sprouting bud of organized crime... "If you are such an eager beaver, I do have something that could use immediate attention." She watched the line of his body carefully. A twitch, an involuntary groan... she would see it.

"There is a renovation project on an apartment complex not three blocks from here. We're very interested in the community, you see, and I've been working on the foreman to ensure that the apartments renting to humans are kept under construction... indefinitely. He doesn't seem to see it my way, though. Could you be a dear, Dean, and change his mind?"

If he could do that on his own he would prove himself to be a very valuable asset. If he needed someone to hold his leash, well, he would still be useful but not nearly as much.

Lori Faust. If ever there was a cover, that was a fine one. If Lori Faust was her given birth name, Roland Hornbuckle wash is. Nonetheless, that is what she went by and what he would call her. Maybe after they were better acquainted, she could clear that up. Virginal corruption and her eyes synched up nicely as she did her best to toss a quip back at him. She really did try. She was just too young. Give her a decade and she would really be dangerous.

She did come up with a smashing name for him. Of course, anything beat Blinky. "Dean. Dean it is."Lean. Mean. Clean. Obscene. Dean seemed to work well. "Get me a last name and I'll have a social and a birth certificate the next day." If it was important, he could have it in an hour. Didn't seem so important, though. More a fancy for a lovely lass."You're right about where you're from. It really doesn't matter as long as you know where you're going." Perhaps she was psychic. That or she just wanted to burn through his skull with her piercing eyes. He had enough chatter going on to keep any real probing to a minimum, though he wasn't sure. One way to find out before he thought more on the subject.

He smiled and blinked at her. " Pardon me for asking, but are you trying to read my mind? I know you are a mutant, since everyone here is. I showed you a trick and short of taking off your pyramids there, I am unsure of yours. If you can read minds, I'd like to know. Seems like the best thing to do at the beginning of any fruitful relationship." Maybe business. Maybe pleasure. No longer being confined by money let Roland focus on becoming an artist with the grand medium of violence.

"If you are such an eager beaver, I do have something that could use immediate attention. There is a renovation project on an apartment complex not three blocks from here. We're very interested in the community, you see, and I've been working on the foreman to ensure that the apartments renting to humans are kept under construction... indefinitely. He doesn't seem to see it my way, though. Could you be a dear, Dean, and change his mind?" A wide smile stretched over Roland's face as his eyes darkened and his eyebrows arched. "A proper test. I like tests. Give me the principal's name and a time. If you like, I can go down there and have it done by the end of the day or the week. You tell me the extent you would like me to go to and the time in which to do it, also known as the parameters. Sounds more like fun than work." A simple shakedown. A tad disappointing, but Roland had the idea that it could only get better.

He agreed on Dean, as well he should. It fit him somehow like a sock he'd worn before. Not quite a glove, but it was workable with a little bit of wiggle room. And wiggle room was important.

"Pardon me for asking, but are you trying to read my mind?

"I think reading body language is more effective. But my talents lie with the movement of electrons. The pyramids help me not kill electronics."

Minds were tricky things. Tricky, slippery, and hard to look into at times. No, she was much more comfortable reading the things she knew like tonal inflections, hold of the lips, hesitations in exhalation, that supremacist glint.

No one particularly enjoyed having their mind prodded. If only they knew how dreadfully boring most of their minds were... unless of course he had a car fetish. She couldn't quite place why he had thought about an Escalade. Had it been an Escalade? Bah. Now there was only one clear thought to latch on to. She was older than her. Or... no. He was thinking he was older than her. Lori shook her head.

"I like tests. Give me the principal's name and a time."

She leaned over the desk and plucked a blank note pad out from under a stack of opened mail. The desk needed better organization. Sure, Lori knew where everything was, but it was driving Lisa bonkers. Lori leaned further across the wooden table to pull out the drawer and snatch up a pen.

"Bring me the foreman's assent. Be it a mutant only tenant return to the building or something a bit more creative, I don't care, but you need to get him to agree with you enough to serve our goal. Bring me his response by midnight tonight and I'll give you your last name today, Dean." She'd never put a time limit on her tests, not that she'd tested many of the Order yet, but this man... he had promise in a way that most others she'd come against did not.

He had resources. He knew where to get things like false legal documents. He had experience. He seemed confident in the feasibility and amusement factor of her task. Best of all, he didn't argue with her. He had the maturity to accept and work with what he had been given. With a smile.

In her usual slanting, all caps print, Lori wrote the name of the man Dean was to find and where he might find him. She held out the paper to him but pulled it out of reach again just as his fingers came close. "Well, technically it'll be tomorrow." And if or when he returned triumphant or not, she would know better how to apply this new tool she'd been handed.

Lori let him have the paper, snatched out from her finger by hand or mutation.

Her mind continued to work on him. As a fellow interpreter of tells, Roland could see that Lori's movements at the desk were a well orchestrated feint to cover the idea that he was fairly unassailable. This was the type never to admit defeat. probably not even mutual surrender. She was interesting. Electrons were a great and powerful thing, as they spun within every atom of everything that was. Perhaps she was a third of the Goddess Incarnate. The dirty third.

Her lean body reached over the desk for a piece of paper. The principal's name etched itself in large capital slants as Roland listened to the parameters. It seemed as if it were too easy. Perhaps things would be scaled up. Perhaps she was used to dealing with amateurs. Perhaps she had no fathomable realization of the ends that the man across from her would go to see a thing come to fruition. His eyes remained on the paper and then rose with it as it was held in a way to seem as a bone for a dog. Or a stick to fetch. All of this without a shred of judgment or ego inflation. Or deflation.

His own fingers reached out to pluck the paper as it was pulled away. " Let's make it 11:59 then. I'd hate to be late." The fingers locked on the edge of the paper, a slight, nearly imperceptible give and take, push and pull displayed before he promptly pulled it free, as a magician would swipe a tablecloth, leaving the flowers and crystal in place. The smile returned as his eyes looked into her own. "See you soon."

6:00

A few calls from disposable phones. A favor called that could not be retracted. A new pair of clothes. A suit, detective style, fairly current within a few years but showing the weather of a long stakeout. The complementary sidearm, slung from a shoulder holster. A badge. One of special importance to him, as the number was on the laundry list of Duskmoor's victims. Just a personal touch that all but the most perceptive might glean from his disguise.

7:00

A gray sedan from an auctioneer. Used previously in police work. At once unidentifiable and shining like a neon fire to the criminal types. A small red flasher which could be plugged in to the cigarette lighter. It was a shame that so many new models lacked a cigarette lighter. A map of the borough and a short drive around, noting the actual black and whites in the area and noting their locations using the police scanner that came as a bonus buy from said auctioneer.

8:00

Leonard Altman arrives home from a long day of work, consulting with developers and architects for the new building. His home is quiet, which is strange for a married man and father of four. He looks around and finds his family assembled in the living room, faces etched with nervousness and comfort. A strange pair, indeed. The wifey announces their guest as Frank Epps, a representative of the local Fraternal Order of Policemen, as well as a Jersey sergeant. Handshakes and pleasantries exchanged, children excused to their homework and computers. Wifey takes a few sidelong glances from the man before she gets the idea to go cook something.

9:00

Leonard has a drink. He needs one. His friendly FOP visitor has given him the insight he needed to realize that his recent reason to work late was actually the young, as in underage young, daughter of a reputable mob boss. One who enjoyed feeding bad parts to bad men. Papers are produced, which explain in a nutshell that the apartment building will be signed over to the boss's eldest daughter as a sign of respect and a desire to keep all reasons for working late attached and in their current condition. For anonymity's sake, the legal document is registered to a name that was as real as Sgt. Epps badge number was fake. Lori Faust.

10:00

A drink is shared between the men and they make their way to the stoop outside, as wifey needs to clean up and get the kids ready for bed. Between a few cigarettes, the local politics are covered as are the responsibilities of Mr. Altman to keep his mouth shut. Mentions of other men being friendly with girls around the age of the girl in question were discussed. Girls like the young Altman girls. Roland painted the possibilities with a wet brush and wide strokes, clearly and disturbingly describing the awful scenes that could be readily avoided with discretion and a few signatures.

11:00

The sedan and the costume are discarded at one of the new safehouses. Clothes are changed to a new wifebeater and black jeans. The relative economy of the clothes is purposely accompanied by a pair of eelskin cowboy boots, as he suspected Miss Faust could appreciate. A few right turns out the door and a cab was hailed, returning the man to the golden doors of the Sanctuary. Lisa is still there, typing away. An automaton of some sort? Who could say?

11:30

"Miss Faust has left her office. her room is near the end of the hall, seventh from the end." Her room. Interesting. Perhaps it was another test, the more difficult half of the egg. A manila envelope in hand, Roland took a seat in the foyer. Not a drop of blood spilled. Only the release of fear. Fear, like a howling angry dog full of rabies, pulling nearly free at a weathered chain, inches from a man's sense of safety. He snickered softly to himself as he sipped a coffee.

11:55

Roland stood outside the door. he suspected the telltale clicking of the boots' heels would be enough of a calling card. He savored the four minutes prior to knocking, imagining Faust stepping from the shower.

Long days deserved a luxurious soak in a hot bubble bath. Unfortunately, that was not an option for Lori all on her own. She peeled away the layers and sponged the streets off her skin as per her usual methods. Natural sponges, hot water, and rubber gloves. Such tedium.

The suit she hung up before she donned her pajamas. Silky black athletic shorts, a tight dark blue tank top and knee high socks, as per her usual. Lori looked like she was ready to go play soccer, but it was worth the lack of fashion to protect her feet. She wasn't getting gussy for the new guy. She flopped onto her huge bed and snatched up her most recent book. And then she waited.

Curiously enough she got snippets of what was going on. It wasn't that The Boundary-Layer Method in Diffraction Problems wasn't a riveting read. It was that some thoughts sort came through like a radio. Sort of like she was still hooked in to this man's frequency, but she could only get something coherent if it rolled around in the mind a while first or repeated several times.

Phone. Clothes. Car. Scotch. Daughters. Blood. Success. Clothes. And finally the idea of coffee. It was strange to be looking over a differential equation and suddenly it's not math on the brain but coffee.

Lori looked up at the sound of shoes. The front flap of the dust cover of folded to mark her page. The book closed and set on her side table as something darkened the slice of light streaming in underneath her doorway.

"Good job." He could fill her in on the details if he wished, but she was confident even before he had thought of success that he would return to her. The door opened and Lori looked up to Dean's eyes, her reading glasses still in one hand. "No coffee for me?"

She opened the door wide. There was very little of her room that was worth hiding. The orgy-sized bed took up most of her floor space and anything else was covered with bookshelves, text books, whiteboards, and charts. She loved the analysis. There were cost/benefit ratios for just about everything about the Sanctuary's happenings now, including the potential payoff if certain people were to go missing. But that was back in her office. Most of what she had in her room was genetic and probability based.

"Good job." Of course it was. It was nice to hear the voice behind the door verify this, however. " No coffee for me?" Civility and a dash of impressed. Expected, but still a perk. Roland waited for the door to open before responding. Once it did, her eyes took a long look at him. No longer the impressive office setup, power pyramids and all business. A book sat earmarked in the room, athletic clothing over freshly washed skin. He was glad to see she could relax as easily as she could give orders. Always the sign of a good boss.

" Maybe you are a tea girl. Or amaretto. Or ice water. It would be presumptuous of me to bring you something until I know what you like." Service minded to a fault, the killer was. Keeping the heads groomed meant more leeway in the long run. The room was one of function, not form. Of course there was the giant bed in the foreground. Was this where all the real business dealings got done? He handed her the envelope as he entered, turning the chair at the desk around and straddling it as he sat. " You plan on talking to me? Or should I just think the rest of the night out and let you play charades?" A chitter of chuckle escaped his innards.

His eyes consumed the boards, the books, the bed. He was no psychic, but Roland had more than enough experience in reading people to do a bang up job on a guess. He had been a good dog, so it was time for a treat." That was too easy. Fun too, in its own sublime way. Now, what's my name?" He asked it in a nice way now, though maybe at a later date, he could ask it in a different way, there in the large silken boardroom.

"... It would be presumptuous of me to bring you something until I know what you like." [/color]

Well that was a humble brown nosing excuse. "You could have wagered it. What would it have cost you to toss an unwanted cup of coffee as opposed to showing your boss how considerate of the details you might be...?"

Out of habit, the door was pushed closer to closed rather than left hanging open. It was a safe medium. Quick to close, quick to open. Safer than actually closing it. They broke a lot of doors around the Sanctuary.

"You plan on talking to me? Or should I just think the rest of the night out and let you play charades?"

He made himself right at home next to a pile of genetic stochastic projections. It showed over a period of years the probability of genetic mutation for the x gene as well as a projected probability of adapted humans. Admittedly, her data points were limited for the adapteds. She'd had to go on the sampling she learned about in Florida and who knew if that was even accurate for the rest of the country?

Cerulean eyes moved from the pile of papers to the man chuckling in her chair. Why pantomime when there are more efficient means of communication?

A psychic, she was not, but by copying her auditory center onto his he would get to hear what she was thinking. The shorter, the better with these kinds of things. She had yet to really develop this power, but there was no time like the present to sharpen her skill.

"That was too easy. Fun too, in its own sublime way. Now, what's my name?"

Lori turned her head left and right listening to the crack that came from her cervical vertebrae. "Adwin." She knew the name had something to do with cunning or artful deception since she'd used it once or twice herself. "I suppose I'll have to find something a bit more challenging for you next time."

She walked past him to place her reading glasses on tiny bedside table that was smashed between the bed and the wall. "Welcome aboard. You want a room? Or will you be staying elsewhere?" She was pretty sure she could convince him to nest close, being the eager to please beaver that he was.

"You could have wagered it. What would it have cost you to toss an unwanted cup of coffee as opposed to showing your boss how considerate of the details you might be...?" Roland dismissed this with a mental handwave. It was a little late in the game to be second guessing an employee. He surely didn't take any of her gestures as genuine niceties either. he suspected that most new male employees, and possibly some of the females, got this kind of coy gauntlet in order to see how easy they could be shaped by lust. While Lori was a very attractive girl, Roland would never stick his neck out like that to a boss. It was weak. If she ever came, she would have to do the coming.

Why pantomime when there are more efficient means of communication?[/i] Roland's eyes narrowed slightly. Was she a psychic after all? Or was this merely another electron trick courtesy of Dr. Science. Either way, he hemmed up his thoughts until he knew for sure. In response to his request for a name, he received one. Adwin. Dean Adwin. the name repeated itself in his mind like a mantra, as most aliases did until he could be woken up from a deep sleep and answer to it."I suppose I'll have to find something a bit more challenging for you next time." Yes, something more challenging and something worth breaking a sweat over. Or not. if Lori wanted to waste Roland's talents on courier business, that was fine too. He could workout on his own time, if need be.

She strolled by him, her scent wafting in the air between them as she placed her reading glasses on the small bedside table. "Welcome aboard. You want a room? Or will you be staying elsewhere?"It was a bit of a surprise to Roland that it was so easy to get into this place. He should have just tossed the reporter gag and walked in the first time. He could have been sitting pretty by now in this band of brigands. No time for retrospection with the open party line on, though. He straightened himself up and answered the question."Sure, I'll take a room. May not be in it often, but I'll be close enough. How close would you like me to be?"