“Yes, can I help you?”

Jorge Cervantes stood in front of the newsstand and looked past the irritated owner who seemed much too impatient. Though Jorge understood that the first thing in the morning was a viable excuse to be snappy, he was not in the mood for it either. But instead of participating in a shouting match, he merely took his time and looked over all the items that the vendor had on display behind the counter. The various magazines with their glossy covers shimmer in the dim morning light, while the stacks of newspaper were animated by the flapping of their flimsy pages by a breeze which passed by. Finally Jorge simply shrugged and pulled out a five-dollar bill from his wallet and set it on the stand.

“Just two bottles of water,” Jorge grunted as he watched the vender kneel for a brief second before producing his purchases.

Jorge waited as the man turned to get his change. New to the city of New York, Jorge still could not help to look up at the bustling metropolis that lay about him. The sidewalks were crowded with hustling workers and citizens, all of which seemed to be making beelines for their destinations, with no intentions to slowing down or moving out of the way for new comer to their fair city. The sound of his crumbled change being held out brought him back to attention as he nodded, took his change and purchases and slipped them into his duffle bag.

He felt slightly out of place in the city of New York as he walked down the sidewalk and dodged and weaved around several people, all of which were too busy talking on cell phones or drinking Starbucks coffee in order to watch out for him. Dressed in a dark grey suit with a deep blue tie, Jorge adjusted the duffle bag over his shoulder and sighed as he brushed his fingers across his persistent stubble. God, I must look like hell for my first day he thought to himself as he continued on.

Having just transferred this past weekend from Miami, this was a huge change for Jorge. Though he did not relish the idea of leaving his mother and father back in Florida, Jorge knew that this change in scenery was sorely needed. Since he was a child, he has always lived in the heat and on the edge of sandy beaches and crashing waves of water. But lately Jorge just had to urge to leave, to see something different and experience a different world. For too long, since that fateful day in California, Jorge had been curious about who, or what, he really was. It was not long before he started hearing that other people with special abilities existed in the world and eventually they would be labeled with the name of “mutants”. The idea that he was not alone had encouraged Jorge in his youth but now that he was much older, he wanted more answers and that is how he found in way to New York. If there is one city in the world that gets associated with the term of “mutant”, it is New York. Maybe here, he could learn more about himself.

He continued on down the sidewalk, rounded corners and crosses busy streets with hordes of other people until finally he found himself standing in front of the New York City Police Department. He watched as a pair of cops in dark blue uniform pulled in a struggling woman in skimpy clothing and another officer as he strolled out and sipped from his cup of coffee. Jorge, or as he would now be called, Detective Cervantes, took steady breath before he reached into his bag and pulled out one of his purchased bottles of water.

“Well, looks like I’m ready to report for duty,” he muttered to himself as he unscrewed the cap from his bottle and took a large swig.

Verdy was having a good day. The sun was shining, she had money in her bank account, and at the moment she was totally free. Not that being needed was in any way a bad thing, but still walking in the early morning light was nice. She wasn’t really going anywhere in particular, but the urge to walk had come upon her, so walk she did. A black hoodie was tied around her waist, her movement keeping her warm enough that the tank-top she was wearing was a pleasant temperature. Nodding to herself in time to a wordless tune bouncing inside her skull she ambled backwards and forwards, up streets and down, through alleys and across the occasional road. Black slacks covered her legs instead of her usual jeans, and she felt lighter in general, her small side-bag the only thing she was carrying.

She had paid a trip to all her old haunts, just checking to make sure they were still there and alright. The small Chinese food place, run by a pleasant Asian couple who spoke barely any English, which had occasionally left out boxes of leftovers for the homeless had been on the lengthy list and although it was not yet opened she had slipped a card of thanks, (along with a twenty dollar bill) under the door. It was nothing compared to what those meals had meant to her empty stomach, but it was something. The small cafe where she had cleared tables to pay for coffee or food was another, and she still clutched the cup of fully paid for Latte, the manager had been thrilled that she had a proper place with regular meals and a decent bed. He would never have admitted it, but she knew he cared.

Her mood was so high, in fact, that as she approached the Police Department she did the unthinkable, that which is never done on the streets of New York. She looked up. One man standing on the sidewalk caught her attention, he seemed to be talking to himself for a moment (or perhaps it was a trick of the light, playing across the stubble on his face) and sipping a bottle of water. He was dressed formally, but not stiflingly so. He looked a little nervous almost, as if he was about to step into a room full of people he didn’t know. She smiled at him, another unspoken rule broken.

“Good morning.”

Three strikes and you’re out. The final, most important rule, never speak to strangers.

((OOC: If you’re looking for a Police-specific guide feel free to ignore me and/or acknowledge and shoo me along ))

At first, Jorge had said nothing when that friendly “Good morning!” was uttered from somewhere out of his peripheral. After all, his experience in New York so far has not been that friendly. Then again, Jorge often gave off the aura of in fact being unfriendly. The dark clothes, the gruff looking face, and hard set eyes often caused people to steer around him out of fear of being mugged or worse, arrested. Still though, after a few moments, Jorge finally turned to glance out of the corner of his eye and noticed that a young woman had looked up and given him that nice greeting.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile, one barely noticeable, as he nodded very briefly and grunted a “hi” as she passed by.

After a second he realized that she may have not heard him, he clears his throat and turns, speaking a little more clearly. “Uh, Thank you, ma’am. Sorry. Good morning to you to.” He flashes what he thinks is a smile, a raised corner of his lips, again barely noticeable. “I’m new to town. It’s a little difficult to get the flow of the people yet. I guess I’m not used to this many high buildings.”

He sighs as he glances back to the police station and looks down to his watch, realizing that he is still at least thirty minutes early for work. He knew that on his first day he would have to spend extra time getting the layout of the station, meet the chief as well as find out if he would be working alone or with a partner, but the thought of all that made his spine stiffen. For some reason at that very second, he believed that just maybe coming to New York was a bad idea. After all, things had been going well in Miami, but as he stared up at the buildings, glanced between the coming and going people, he slowly began to remember why he was here. In comparison to many of them, he was completely different. He was a mutant. And he needed to be where he could do the most good. After all, one of the reasons he had picked the transfer to New York was because unconfirmed rumors were beginning to circle that a group of mutants were starting to mingle with the police. Maybe, just maybe, he could get an introduction to them.

Realizing he had been standing there completely still and day dreaming, he shook himself out of his daze and returned to the woman who had given him his friendly hello and responded again in kind.

“Good morning ma’am,” he said as he held out his hand. “Detective Cervantes.”

The man grunted something at her, and for a second she was reminded of Rupert’s sour face when she had told him she was a mutant. The man had similar stubble too, but lacked that kind of wildness in his eyes of the bigot.

The man turned to her properly after a moment and pursed his lips slightly, was that a smile? Perhaps. She smiled at the man, just in case. After speaking to him unexpectedly it would have been very rude to ignore his smile, or offend him in any way. Apparently his slightly less-than-confident air was because he was new to the city. She glanced up at the sky, mainly obstructed by the high-rise buildings around them.

“Yeah, it takes a little while to get used to it, and everyone flows differently in the city. Just when you think you’ve got them pinned, they change the rules on you.”

She smiled sympathetically. It was tough trying to work out New York City, the variables made it nearly impossible, and the early days were the hardest. The man looked at his watch and the police department, she was silently surprised that she had wandered this far. Usually she avoided this part of town, not through fear, just habit. The man was returning her greeting and offering his hand, she only hesitated for a moment before taking it and shaking it firmly. He was a detective, and they were standing right outside the police station. If he was a mutant with touch-activated powers he surely wouldn’t try anything strange here.

“Verdigris Willow.”

She replied, Cervantes reminded her of Sebastian, the groom at the wedding she had attended spontaneously. Perhaps they were related, or simply had similar names she smiled at the man anyway.

“Nice to meet you.”


((OOC: Just a heads-up, usually posts are written in the past tense, not the present ))

“It is nice to meet you, Ms. Willows,” Jorge said when he shook her hand.

So far she had to be the nicest person that he has met so far in New York. The cab driver from the airport only rambled on about his battleaxe of an ex-wife and snapped at Jorge when it seemed like he had drifted off, a lady on the corner accused him trying to steal her wallet when he picked it up to offer it her after he saw it fall out of her purse, and his new landlady could not speak a lick of English. Only enough to tell him, “No loud music, No Pets, and No Underwear Off Parties!” He still had no idea what that last one referred to. Still, it refreshed his faith in humanity when he met this nice young lady who actually had flashed a smile rather than a scowl.

He then took a step back and sighed deeply as he looked between her and the station. He knew that he was not going to get as nice a welcome as he has received so far, so he figured he might at least try and get some answers about the city from a native before his day started.

“Excuse me, but, do you mind if I walk you down the block?” He watched her face as he asked but quickly raised his hands defensively with a smile. “I mean that with the most honorable intentions, of course. I’m new to the city from Miami and honestly,” he reached into his duffle bag and fished out a glossy, folded up brochure that looked as if it had been folded and refolded one too many times, “I’m lost trying to figure out the subway lines. And, I won’t ask for your help for free of course,” he said as he reached into his bag again and pulled out a fresh, unopened package of Twinkies, “I offer golden, fluff filled treats.”


((OOC: Thanks! Sorry, I will try to keep my eye open for my tense changes. I apologize. It has been awhile. ))

She frowned slightly as he seemed to weigh her up compared to the station. He seemed a little lost actually, like his purpose was there but he lacked the means to his ends. His question was unexpected, but didn’t come off as threatening, his qualifiers dispelled any small doubts she had about it and she smiled. The subway could in fact be more confusing than the streets, with the streets at least when you got lost you could backtrack. Once on the subway you were destined to continue. She glanced at the brightly coloured map which was replicated at stations all over the place.

“Sure thing, oh- don’t-“

She protested his paying of her until she saw his price. Nothing quite like a nutritionless snack for breakfast and tour-guide-payment. She grinned and nodded.

“Well, I guess that’s alright then. Where would you like to head to first?”

She flung her hands out, encompassing the whole of the street, the whole world. There was a subway station nearby, not too far a walk, and in the early morning light everything seemed cleaner, and the distance seemed even shorter.

“So, what brings you to the city from Miami?”

The grizzly detective no longer seemed as harsh as he normally would have seemed after he handed her the unopened package of Twinkies and strolled with her down the sidewalk. He looked over her shoulder as she unfolded the glossy subway map and pointed out the difference between the colored lines and how the second you stepped onto a train, that was your destination and you had to factor that into how to find your way back home. The subway unsettled Jorge a bit since he had yet to get onto one in his time in New York, but now that he lived here, he would have to figure it out. He nodded several times as he took mental notes about what trains would lead where, and which would be the safer routes back to the general area of his home.

Then he almost cracked a smile when he noticed the small piece of golden Twinkie stuck on her chin. He stopped, cleared his throat and scratched his own chin to give her the hint that there was something there.

“That is a very good question,” he muttered when he heard her inquiry as to why he left Miami. “I guess that I wanted to try some different scenery. You know, Miami has its share of crime and violence, but there is just something about this place that draws you to it. Besides, it seems like New York is the mecca for special individuals.”

Jorge muttered that last half a little enigmatically on purpose. He still could not get a good figure out on this woman and where she stood on certain issues. If she turned out to be one of the people who were bigoted against mutants, he had hoped that she would not catch onto his meaning of “special.” Then again, if she was, well, it would be nice to meet a friend. Jorge gave no acknowledgment at what he was implying but instead took another long drag of water from his bottle as they got closer to the end of their block.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you lived in New York? Do you enjoy it?”

Verdy was only confused with the sugary bread for a moment, it was her first experience with the iconic snack, but she was fairly certain she was doing it right. Kinda. Somehow she managed to get crumbs on her chin and on her top. She brushed those on her top off, but it wasn’t until the man gestured that she realised and removed those from her chin. ... Scenery, he had travelled to NYC for the scenery... well, each to their own. She nodded slowly, she knew very little about mecca, but she was sure it had something to do with religion. Had he emphasised the ‘special’ on purpose? Or did he simply have a husky voice? She smiled and brushed off her top again, you couldn’t be too careful.

“I have lived in the city for nearly four years now. At first I didn’t enjoy it, but I’ve moved into a different area and have a good job, so now it is much better. For a while the city was a rough place, but its mellowed somewhat and generally most people are accepting, with a few exceptions, of course but you get that everywhere.”

She nodded to a black graffitied message ‘out mutant scum’, next to a squiggly blue ‘sam waz here’ and under a rainbow ‘gay rights!’ For some reason she wasn’t one hundred percent confident about blurting out about her mutation directly, if he could play coy games about ‘special’ people, then she could too.

“Perhaps its just because I’m pretty much pro-everything, or equal-rights everything. But everything just seems better when there isn’t fighting.”

Jorge smirked to himself as he walked next to Verdigris. It was a sign of the times to meet a young person open minded about practically everything. So many times he had seen incidents throughout of his life of racism, sexism, and these days, the whole mutant controversy. Having been a cop for so many years, it did not surprise him that he had seen examples of almost every time of “-ism” there was out there, the sad thing was he really did not see a solution to the problems. The unfortunate thing is, as he has come to realize, is that it is just human nature to dislike things that are out of the status quo. The second people get used to something, they need something else to hate and revile and so and so on in an unending cycle that has really showed no signs of stopping.

Jorge looked up at the various anti-mutant, anti-ANTI-mutant signs and so forth. He shrugged as he glanced at Verdigris out of the corner of his eye.

“I guess if that were to ever happen,” Jorge said as he stopped at the corner, “I would be out of a job.” He smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. After all, if everyone did get along, they would not need anyone forcing them to.”

He stopped and continued to survey the city around him. He no longer felt like an ant in the middle of a museum, he actually started to feel better about his surroundings. The tall towers of glass and steel, the warm concrete of the side shops and the rumble of the trains both above and below ground, had drifted into background noise that he could easily ignore. He began to understand to flow the sidewalk traffic, to remember to read people’s body signals which always gave away whether they were going to move for you or through you. And now that an expert in the city had showed him how to read that subway map, he definitely began to feel better. All because one person took the time out of their day and showed him a brief moment of kindness.

Jorge, gruff almost always angry looking Jorge, smiled briefly as he opened his coat and pulled out a small business card and held it out for her.

“Ms. Willows, thank you for taking the time. You didn’t have to and I appreciate it,” he said as he handed her the NYPD contact card. “My name is Jorge and that has my extension on it. I’m part of the Mutant Related Crimes Division. If you need help in any way, I hope you will call me.”

Hopefully she hadn’t offended him, as he noted his redundancy if there was peace. She thought about apologising for a second, before deciding not to. Harmony is what every person should strive for, his job suggested that he strove for it, just in a slightly more hands-on kind of way. She nodded slowly, surely if there was peace then people would be happier. Although, to employ every no longer necessary officer, soldier, security worker or other job to do with enforcing the law and order would be nearly impossible.

She accepted his card silently and turned it between her fingers for a moment. It had really been no trouble, she had been out for a mind-clearing walk anyway, his inclusion was no great difficulty. Saying so though, may have come across as dismissal of his problem and she recalled a time when even the smallest friendly move, even turning a blind eye to her light fingers, seemed like a blessing in the angry city.

He gave her his name, as well as his number, and gave a brief outline or the name of his job. Mutant Related Crimes... Did he know? How could he have picked it up? She had no real visible mutations, nothing to tip him off, like the scales, fur or feathers covering fully or partially students roaming the hallways of the Mansion. She eyed him for a second, perhaps it was merely coincidence, he possibly had no idea that she was a carrier of the X-gene. She flipped the card between her fingers again and ran the pad of an index finger across the edge, just light enough not to be paper-cut.

“I’ll remember that, thanks. Is mutant-related caused by mutants? Or towards them? “

It would help to know that if she ever needed help to do with a malfunction of someone’s mutation or even her own.

“Just curious.”

Because sometimes it was better to tell a white-lie, than to be known as a mutant.

Jorge smirked slightly when he heard her question. It was true, the title of “Mutant Related Crimes” could mean a couple of different things, it depended on the person’s perspective. If she hated mutants, then she could assume that she could call him to have him wrangle up some peaceful mutant neighbors she just wanted to have hauled away. Then again, if she was pro-mutant, then his division could be seen as being more sympathetic towards mutants. Both were tricky subjects, especially since he really was not sure where she stood on the matter. But, she did say she was pro-everything so Jorge took that to mean that maybe she really was a sympathizer.

“I guess that would mean that my division handles a little bit of both,” he replied as he shoved a hand into his pocket and adjusted the strap of his duffle bag with the other. “We specialize in handling mutant related situations whether they be crimes or offering help.”

When he said this, it was said with a conviction that he really did not know he possessed. He really was here to help people. He wanted to make a difference, to somehow change people’s lives for the better, which ranged from putting mutant criminals behind bars, to saving those who have been harassed by every day humans. Where this conviction came from he did not know. He had never been a sign wielding protestor or had handcuffed himself in a human chain of defiance. As a matter of fact, there were many times where he had to be one of those arresting officers. But this was different. He did know why, it could be as simple as he was tired of the intolerance he had seen over his years on the force or even because he himself was a mutant.

Jorge took a steady breath and he nodded. “Besides, mutants are here to stay. So long as we, ur…I mean, they are here…everyone might as well try to get along.” He sighed at his slip up, but he had said it so fast, he had hoped it wouldn’t get caught.

A little bit of both, that was fair enough. Crimes and assistance… so just like a cop, but only called into situations with mutants.

“Do you have to be specially trained to work with mutants?”

She had overheard in the corridors that the X-men were working with the police now, but she wasn’t sure if that would have been in the same division as the grizzled man beside her, or in a section of their own. She had been on the urge of asking clarification when he began speaking again, and stumbled on his words. Her head turned to inspect him closely, in what might have been considered a rude stare.

He didn’t seem to carry any external manifestations of a mutation, wings or claws would have been noticed immediately, but she herself was a prime example of the invisible mutation, and others like Slate or Hunter… Who knew how many mutants scurried the streets undetected.

“We can only do so much, I’m afraid, it has to be a two-way road.”

The lack of specificity left it open, working in the mutant crimes division for the benefit of mutants could mean many things, perhaps he was just sympathetic. As such he wouldn’t attack a known mutant, even if he himself didn’t possess the gene.

“I’ve seen crimes both ways in my time here unfortunately, but there are people who try to make things better. Like the X-men. Since I’ve been at the Mutant school there’s been acceptance all round, and I haven’t met a mutant as bigoted as some of the humans I know.”

Another older man with muffins and a poodle sprang to mind. His vehement hate of her and his death wishes simply because of her genes was by far the worst case she had seen in a long time.

“And maybe it goes both ways, I just don’t see it.”

The detective was quiet for a while as he regarded the woman in front of him. She had made mention of the X-Men and her time there. Before coming to New York, Jorge himself had done research and heard of several reports which linked various rescues and good deeds attributed to the X-Men and their cause for peace. Could it really be that he was speaking to one of those members now? Was she a mutant too? It was hard to tell, obviously, since he had just met the woman and she had no visible mutation upon her, but then again, it was not exactly like he stood out in a mutant line up either. But as he watched her, he realized that she had taken a huge risk. She had practically came out and told him she was a mutant, at most a sympathizer, without really even knowing him. Then again, how else can progress be made?

After a deep breath, Jorge gave her a warm smile in response and nodded. “You’re right, there is only so much that WE can do.”

He watched for recognition in her eyes that he was revealing himself as a mutant to her. It must have been odd for her to make that kind of connection. A mutant who worked as a full-fledged police officer for the NYPD, yet here he was, in the flesh. He walked off to the side for a bit, out of sight of the passing populace so that they could not see what he was about to do.

“I came to New York,” he started quietly, “because I wanted to make a difference. Too many times the voices of certain groups are not heard. That is why I accepted the transfer here,” he pulled a water bottle from his bag and held it up for just her to see.

The clear plastic bottle was half empty of water that moved only slightly inside of its confines. The reflection of the morning light as it shimmered through the plastic and through the clear, cool looking water, danced in little sparkles across her eyes. The detective raised his free hand to the bottle and before her, he made a small example of what his X-gene allowed him to do. Inside the bottle water crept up the sides of the plastic and fell down in a little torrent of rain towards the bottom. Then the water swirled and formed what looked like a small whirlpool that led nowhere before several tiny globes of water gently roles form the rapid surface and danced in swift moving circles around each other. Jorge slowly ended his small water ballet. The water flowed down back to the bottom of the bottle, filling it back to the halfway mark it was once at until it returned to the look of any other half drunk bottle of water, with only the small disturbance at the surface to prove that anything had happened.

Jorge carefully brought his hands down and watched his, hopefully new friend, for her reaction that would not include fear.

It was official, as official as emphasizing certain words could make anything anyway. Grizzly was a mutant. She nodded slowly, she wasn’t sure if any mutations were particularly endearing to the police department, but certain x-genes were surely good to have on your resume. Like shotgun hands… Or perhaps that would work against her, if she ever chose to join the force. He moved to one side, and something about his movement tipped her off. She was getting a demonstration.

The water was just your ordinary dihydrogenmonoxide as far as she could tell, a cheap brand sold in many of the little stalls which littered the streets, selling papers and snacks to early morning walkers like herself. His talk about making differences almost made her brace for a ‘half empty/ half full’ spiel. She was staring at the bottle, trying to determine which and had just come to a conclusion (half empty, as it had started full and been drained, not empty and filled, which would make it half full) when the waterline began to tremble with something more than shaky hands. The sun gleamed, flashed off the water and reflected in the light in dashes and flecks. At first it was this glimmer in her eyes that made the water look different, but even as she justified it as so, she was watching things that could not be explained away. At least, not by anything other than an x-gene.

Yet again she was accepting things simply because of the gene-relation. As the water danced and swirled she decided she didn’t care. The movements of the water were every bit as graceful as a ripple on a pond, the shapes changing almost as fast as she could see them. Patterns formed and un-formed, swirled, changed and re-formed. It was fascinating, and she felt almost disappointed when he stopped, it was like having a lava-lamp on colourless steroids. He seemed to be checking her reaction for negativity, she found herself grinning at him.

“Wicked. One of the nicer ones I’ve seen, have to admit.”

She tossed her head slightly, peripherally checking for any passers-by that seemed more focused on them than usual. Finding none she decided to show him. Fair was fair, and he had taken a risk in sharing his.

“I’m still a little rough around the edges, but…”

She faced her palm away from the man, directed safely at the ground. It would not do to brain him with a projectiled penny. A flicker of a frown and a small glass ornamental rock flung from her palm to bounce a few times along the ground and off the wall. She picked it up delicately, someone had obviously dropped it into the gutter sometime ago, as it was scratched, and little bits were missing. She gave an awkward smile, his demonstration had been a lot more polished and graceful.

“It doesn’t have to be glass rocks, its normally little things, that people lose easily.”

Like spare keys, or batteries. Pens were also frequent, and paperclips more often than one might think. Money, however, didn’t seem to appear so readily as the less useful items.

The detective could not help the small smile that appeared at the corner of his lips. It was not because he found the woman’s powers to be funny or amusing, but more because he was relieved. He had met a friendly mutant, someone of like mind. He had taken a big risk when he gave her a demonstration of his abilities out in public, mainly because he still was unsure how the rest of the force was going to treat him. Some, like the commissioner, knew he was a mutant and that was the whole reason for putting him on the force. He remembered the interview he had with him over the phone. The commissioner wanted a mutant to be there, as a kind of link between the X-Men and his officers. He wanted a mutant, but one with a long history on the force so that he would be a cop first and a mutant second.

But now that Jorge was here, in front of another mutant, he simply was not sure of what to say or think next.

He finally just grinned as he relaxed a bit. “That really was very impressive,” he said to her. “Thank you for not aiming anything towards my head.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief as he watched her closely. It seemed almost funny to him that the first possible friend he would make in New York would be another mutant. He was thankful for that fact. If there were anything worse than being a stranger in a strange city, it would be being a stranger who is a mutant in a strange city with nobody to call a friend.

Jorge stuck out his hand towards her to shake. “Thank you for this morning Verdigris. I really, really appreciated all your help. But, unfortunately I do have to head in now. My shift is going to start,” he said as he motioned to the police department down the way. He seemed reluctant to go but as he finally started to turn he stopped and nodded to the contact card he had given her. “Listen, I do hope that we can talk more. Maybe I can treat you to a lunch or something if you are not too busy…?” Jorge cursed inside his head as he knew that probably sounded like he was asking her out on a date. “Or not.” He laughed a little and shook his head. “I’m sorry for how that sounded, god, you probably think I’m some perv now. I really am sorry. Just, keep me in mind if you ever need help, okay? It was nice to meet you,” he said with a warm smile and tried to run away with whatever elder dignity he had left.