Ellie looked up at the panther mutant. She offered him a warm smile. While he was odd he wasn’t the oddest person she’d seen today, Meld still had that prize. “Of course,” she said, “please go right on through.”

Hunter was in the training room doing a tai chi routine. Upon spotting the new arrival he finished the move he was doing and stood in the centre of the room with a smile. “Welcome,” he said calmly, “How may I help you?”

((ooc: Continued from The Return of an Old Face.))

His nose was flaring even before the secretary answered. As the glass door swung shut behind him, the smells of the building came to him more strongly. It was a new place. Maybe not newly built, but newly remodeled and refitted. Meld had been here earlier in the day, along with other people, both familiar to him and not. The secretary smelled of some kind of flower over the more natural odors that a woman acquires over the course of a day of work. The subtle smells weren’t offensive to his nose—they just were.

Something older weaved its way under and through the other scents; the master of the house. The one who’d been spending the most time here. There was a subtle spice to it, now. That was new. Change in diet? Maybe he’d been off feeding in Mexico. Or India. Calley knew the man’s preferred diet, now. It was hard to be the Kabal Leader’s brother and not have learned a few trivia facts about its former Leader. It was an area of mutual interest between the brothers, after all.

>> “Please go right on through.”

“Thank you,” the panther said, with a cordial nod of his head. His paced quietly over the floors, and let himself in. His hand did not hesitate on the door. He did not owe this man that much. He let himself inside.

Black hair. Shorter now than he’d remembered it. The man was still tall, but that seemed different, too—it was like a child remembering his father. Calley hadn’t really grown; he was still his 5’8” to the man’s 6’2”. 6’2” just wasn’t so untouchable as he’d remembered. Abyss was taller.

He really was just a man, wasn’t he.

>> “Welcome. How may I help you?”

There was something different in the voice, too. Was this what it sounded like, when the immortal desired to be civil? Calley wouldn’t know. He really wouldn’t.

“Good afternoon,” the black panther intoned, his voice a mixture of thick vowels and sharp consonants as a cat’s tongue and teeth worked to form the words behind lips that were only half-way human, at best. They were Calley’s vocal chords, but this was not Calley’s voice. “My name is Miles. You would be Hunter Antonescu.”

He would be. He would have the gall to be, and to be back in New York.

“Yes I would be. Please call me Hunter,” replied Hunter with an honest smile, “It is a pleasure to meet you Miles. So what have you come here to learn? Do you want to learn some meditation techniques, perhaps brush up on your martial arts skills? Or is there a more serious issue which you would like to discuss?”

As far as Hunter was concerned he was talking to a mutant he had never met before. Where he not restricting his senses he might notice the remnants of Calley’s voice in his disguise. But he was operating at a human level, and thus the disguise had him fooled. He had no idea he was looking at his former employee who he had so horribly abuse and who had set him on his path of change.

It was the sort of smile that could make a young man wish that when his fist connected, both the skin on his knuckles and the teeth in the other man’s mouth would break.

Miles returned the smile, his expression equal in pleasantry to the man’s.

“My interests lean towards mediation. I’m not much of a fighter, contrary to appearances.” He held up a paw-like hand; sharp nails briefly scythed out from his finger tips. He lowered it again.

“May I inquire as to your credentials? Forgive a cat’s curiosity, but your establishment didn’t seem to be here last week, and ‘Antonescu’ seems a rare surname for a monk.”

Credentials. Just were have you been, Boss Man, and what game was this all about?

“Meditation I can help you with,” Hunter assured Miles, “You are quite right, Antonescu is not an oriental name. I recently spent over a year in Tibet improving myself and among other things learning various meditation techniques from a temple master.”

Hunter started walking towards the exit to this room and indicated for Miles to follow. “If you’d follow me to the meditation room I’ll show you a few simple techniques. If this is what you are looking for then you can arrange an appointment with Ellie.”

Now they were changing rooms. Why? The panther man’s ears lay flashed low to his skull for an instant, then perked up again as he followed behind the man. Behind. Antonescu’s gait was relaxed; his arms swung easily in that silly white get up of his. Where oh where did the man even find something like that? It was loose, and thin. Calley’s claws would slice cleanly through.

The hall they were walking along was comfortably wide by architectural standards. It was still more Hunter’s battle field than his own, though. The man specialized in physical fights: close quarters, making full use of his strength and speed. Calley knew from experience that he couldn’t win playing things that way. Open areas—open sky—suited him better, both for attack and defense. That was even more important, now that his power was behaving so strangely. He’d beaten the man using splintering techniques, last time. This time? He wasn’t even sure how many splinters he could make anymore. He couldn’t afford to pass out mid-battle again. He doubted the man would leave him alive a second time.

Why had the man left him alive? He didn’t know. If he’d been able to cling to consciousness for a few more seconds, Calley wouldn’t have done the same for Hunter.

His tail flicked, brushing against the hallway wall on both sides as they reached the room. His ears flattened again, as the lack of noise began to close in around him. The room was still glass-fronted, but the panes were thick. Sound proofing, and a durability he couldn’t hope to break through easily in a pinch.

“Do you mind leaving the door standing open?” He asked, with an explanatory tap at one of his rounded ears. “Sound proofing is a bit... unsettling.”

And he’d spent enough of his life locked in a room with this man.

“Of course,” said Hunter as he stepped into the middle of the room and sat cross-legged, “The sound proofing is more for those who find background noise distracting. If you’d rather leave it open we can. Please come and sit with me.”

Laying his hands palm up on his knees Hunter waited for Miles to sit. He planned to teach him a simple mind clearing exercise that allows you to empty your mind and then focus on things that were troubling you. While a simple enough technique it was good for solving problems.

Hunter seated himself in the center of the room; Calley seated himself a socially appropriate few feet away, well aware that putting extra distance between them would mean very little in light of the man’s speed, no matter how tempting it was. His back wasn’t to the door, but that trajectory was certainly possible, if it came down to it. He was angled both towards the man and towards the front of the building. He had to admit: glass walls really helped a panther to see what that secretary might or might not be up to. Calley was familiar with the sorts of secretaries the man had hired, in the past. Flower scenting and pretty faces did not equate to innocence anymore than sudden New Age acts did.

“May I presume that your expertise lies more towards the martial arts?” The man’s little spiritualist farce really did invite sniping. Sniping done in a perfectly respectful, friendly tone, of course. He emulated the man’s cross-legged pose. He wasn’t sure he’d ever bent his legs that way, in this form. Human hip joints really were quite something; he was glad he’d opted for them. “One year of study doesn’t seem like terribly much. Tibet or no.” His whiskers fanned to the sides. “What drove you there, if I may ask? Some special school, or training?”

Hunter did not do all the calculations that Calley had done as he sat down. They didn’t even occur to him for the simple reason that in his mind if Miles wanted to leave, he could. Smiling at the question Hunter replied “I used to think so, but I’ve recently been shown that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was and have had to brush up on the martial arts aspect. Also I knew several meditation techniques before I went to Tibet and have a very disciplined mind.”

“Now,” Hunter said, “I want you to think of a question to which you want answers. Hold that question in your mind. Imagine that it is written on a large blackboard. Now as you focus on the question on the blackboard I want you to let everything else fall away until there is only the blackboard. Place the blackboard in a large, empty white room. Now slowly fill the room with everything you know about your question, one at a time. Once you’ve finished placing things in the room step back and look at everything. Now you can see everything related to your question and only that. There is nothing else there to obscure anything. Take a walk around the room, inspect various things in it and the answer to your question should become a little clearer.”

Hunter had intended to guide Miles into a trance like state that would make this technique work much better How much Calley was will to relax and empty his mind however would be a different and deciding factor.

This man. This man was not a good salesman. ‘I opened a martial arts and meditation center! I’m not a master of either! Take my classes! They’re free!’

You get what you pay for.

“A very disciplined mind, hmm?” A very disciplined mind, indeed. Not at all prone to tossing over jeeps because a seventeen year old’s childish taunts had irked him. The epitome of discipline and self-control sat before Calley, about to lead him into a peaceful meditation session. The panther man’s ears flicked. He’d been right: this was a joke.

>> “I want you to think of a question to which you want answers. Hold that question in your mind. Imagine that it is written on a large blackboard... Place the blackboard in a large, empty white room.”

Despite himself, his mind started to follow those directions. The question was immediate, and prominent: Why are you here, Hunter Antonescu? The question echoed in the empty room.

Why am I still alive?

What do I have to do to stay that way?

>> “Now slowly fill the room with everything you know about your question, one at a time.”

The panther man breathed in, and out.

Why are you here, Antonescu?

June, 2007. Antonescu had come to America and established the Labs and the Kabal almost in the same breath. Much like he’d opened this place, and papered the town in fliers. The immortal moved fast. In everything he did, he moved fast.

Why am I still alive?

He didn’t know. He did not know why the man hadn’t killed him. Had he been too injured? Had he thought his little spy might still have some use, when he returned?

What do I have to do to stay that way?

That was easier. Hunter had to die.

He had to kill Hunter, or have him killed.

He had to understand what Hunter was doing here, and how far it extended. He had to know where the man might flee if injured, and be prepared to follow him there. He had to know if anyone would take revenge. He had to kill those people, too.

Could he kill?

The new question wrote its way over the chalkboard, in scrawling white letters.

June, 2007. Calley had been seventeen then, when he’d been forced to join the Kabal at its founding. September, 2008. He’d been eighteen when he’d challenged Hunter. He’d won, but not completely. The man was still alive, after all. Calley had gone in there prepared to kill him.

Prepared to kill. It was a feeling he hadn’t had, since then.

November, 2008. He’d killed two men. Kidnappers. Bad guys. It had been a complete accident: just a car crash. No one had cared. He didn’t know why no one cared, except him.

June, 2009. He’d fought the X-Men, like a child throwing a tantrum.

January, 2010. He’d gotten beaten up by a girl. In sneakers. He’d curled up on the floor and let her kick him.

March, 2010. The same girl. Again. What the hell kind of fight had that been? She wasn’t anything. Just a brunette with an attitude problem, and no power to back it up. Why hadn’t he really fought back? He could have killed her. Easily. At the least, he could have beaten her.

Why had his only serious fight been nearly two years ago, against this man?
Why did it feel like since then, he’d just gone back to being the kickable lump the immortal had trained him to be?

>> “Take a walk around the room, inspect various things in it and the answer to your question should become a little clearer.”

Calley was not religious. No, no way, and no thank you. He didn’t believe in higher cosmic plans, fates, or destined meetings. What was just.. was. If there was any sense in things, it was only by accident.

Why was Antonescu here?

The twenty year old paced around the back of the blackboard. What was written there wasn’t an answer; it was a joke. Ever since he’d seen that flier, he’d been living a joke. The universe had a good sense of humor: he had to hand it that.

Why did it take him coming back to find my backbone again?

The panther’s breath hissed through clenched teeth. His tail curled and uncurled in dangerously slow flicks at his side.

The mediation was not helping him to relax.

Whatever question Miles had written really seemed to be bothering the mutant. Rather than relaxing and getting answers as this technique was intended to do Hunter had a feeling Miles was only finding more questions to write on his board.

“I also do one on one sessions,” Hunter said as he tried to gently coax Miles out of the meditation he was in, “Usually I’m helping people with specific problems, whatever they may be, in any way I can. I can see that there is something troubling you and I’d like to try and help, if you’re willing to let me. While I have various session booked this week I should have time around Friday or at the latest early next week.”

Calley didn’t know what made him want to hurt the man more: the idea of spending even more quality one-on-one time with him, or the fact that Antonescu needed to check his schedule, first. There was a certain barb in those words, made even more annoying by the fact it honestly seemed unintentional.

“I would loathe that,” the panther man stated levelly, white teeth flashing through his smile. “Which may just mean that I need it.” Which might just mean a chance to study the man further, to learn more before he took action. He needed to learn more. None of this was making sense, yet.

“If I may inquire, why is it that you’ve established this place? Why are your services free?” Why paper mutant strongholds in fliers, and why feature his name so prominently as he did so?

One stubby finger pushed his glasses higher, as his green eyes focused on the man’s forehead. He knew better than to meet those gray eyes; he knew what could happen, if they turned silver. He’d been inconspicuously avoiding looking at them since he first came in.

“Forgive me, but I’ve found it pays to be careful, particularly for one of my kind.”

There was something off about Miles. Hunter couldn’t place his finger on it. In the old days he would have had him followed to find out more. Not only could he no longer do that but he also had no inclination to. Miles would reveal to Hunter in time what he wanted when he wanted.

“Talk to Ellie on the way out and she will arrange a session,” he said with a smile, “As for why I’ve established this place, to help those who want my help. It is free because I have spent so long taking from this world that it is time I gave something back.”

“Not an unwise precaution,” he remarked when Miles apologised for not meeting his eyes, “And had you met me two years ago doing so would have served you well. However the ability to trap people with my eyes is not longer something in my repertoire. You can safely meet my eyes without fear. While I don’t expect you to simply take my word for it I hope that you will come to trust me enough in time to loo me in the eye”

Things seemed to be wrapping up here, in a tidy, civilized fashion. Outside, sunlight passed sedately through gaps in the city skyline, finding its way into Spiritual Balance. The building’s windows invited it inside. Modern architecture contrived to make this a bright and open place.

The shifter hated it. That was decided in a flash, and a flick of his tail: he hated it. He hated that things couldn’t just look like they were, so a person could tell.

>> “Not an unwise precaution. And had you met me two years ago doing so would have served you well. However the ability to trap people with my eyes is not longer something in my repertoire. You can safely meet my eyes without fear. While I don’t expect you to simply take my word for it I hope that you will come to trust me enough in time to look me in the eye.”

“I hope for that, too,” he stated demurely. As he rose back to his feet with typical feline grace, his large ears swiveled towards the man. “So you’re a mutant as well, then? That explains your choice of advertising locales.” He smiled easily, his tail swaying behind him. “What happened to your powers? I've heard of power growths, but never losses.”

The tail journeyed left and right, as if expecting to find something.

Hunter rose when Miles did. “Indeed I am a mutant,” he answered as he walked with Miles back to the foyer, “I have in fact advertised in several locations, both human and mutant. This place is open to all.”

“My power didn’t shrink,” he explained, trying to put the remarkable psychic resculpting into words, “it was changed. It is a long story, perhaps we’ll get to discuss it at greater lengths during your session.” Now in the foyer Hunter extended a hand, “It was a pleasure to meet you miles, I hope to see you again soon.”