It had been a long time since Shane had done this. He couldn’t even remember an actual time, just that as a child he would come here much like he was now. The smells and the sounds of central park brought back all of his favourite memories from his entire life, be them moments like the ones he was thinking of now from his childhood, or other positive elements of his time spent out in Adirondack Park. And yet, despite all of the positive things that his outing this evening reminded him of, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. After all, there was nothing he was less ok with then how he was spending his night; visible in a public place.

Shane had spent his entire adult life hiding in the shadows and avoiding being seen, but in his short time here in “The Big Apple” he was beginning to learn that people like him were not as uncommon as he had once thought. Though that did not give him the confidence to just walk out in the street and act like he owned the place. Baby steps, he’d think to himself. Just get yourself to spend time out in public for now, even if it is just at night.

So that’s what he was doing. Sitting on a bench, trying awkwardly to avoid eye contact with the people passing him on the path. He knew that he looked ridiculous, but he had given himself a goal, and he was going to achieve it. He’d stay there for one full night, or at least until the crowds were gone. In reality, very few people who passed him even paid him any attention, and the ones who did usually only did so in passing, taking him for a homeless person resting on the bench, but as far as he was concerned, every stranger was glaring at him, judging his every move. He pulled his hat down low and flipped his collar up.

He’d dressed up as well, sporting the most pieces of clothing he’d ever worn at the same time. He would rarely wear much in the way of clothing. Usually just sticking with his long jacket. He found he was less capable of utilizing his powers when he was restricted by fabric locking him into one shape. His jacket worked well to cover him up, but was easy enough to toss away when trouble began. Today was about blending in, and naked man with a trench coat in a park probably wasn’t the best way to go about it.

So there he sat, arms crossed and covered up by as many layers of clothes as he could handle wearing before the heat would get to him. It was going to be a long night, he could just tell.

Central Park. The surprising aspect of a city like New York was that you didn't really notice all the strange and unnatural color scheme around you after a while. Grey became the default color for everything. With a few touches of steel and glass for the financially more prosperous parts. And inside it all a park. A thing that ought to be called something different. Central Park was a huge slab of natural colors, swirling and humming and buzzing and clattering just sitting in one of the biggest metropoles of the world. Martin still went here sometimes when the gray got to him. Or when he wanted to be around plants. Being a gardener for a cover really made you appreciate them and the work that had gone into this park.

Even at night. It was wonderful to leave the honking and squabbling behind for a time. Even at night. Despite muggers and unpleasant folk around. The way he looked now he might have been one of them. Sagging pants, modern sneakers, overlong shirt hanging down to cover his backside. And on his head, just to cover some things up, a black piece of cloth. People in his neighborhood had learned to avoid that piece of cloth. Painfully learned so. Martin did not fear muggers. Or being mistaken for one. He wanted to get a breath of fresh and unsullied air. He wanted to hear insects buzzing.

He also did not care much for intruding upon other peoples space, but the only bench in sight had already been claimed by what looked like a sleeping man for the night. And since he was sleeping, it wasn't really intrusion, was it? Very sound logic. Not. Martin just wanted to sit down for a while and enjoy the night. A sleeper would not keep him from that. So he firmly planted himself on the bench. He had to keep his shirt under him to not leave things... exposed. Why had he taken to wearing these things again?

Some stranger had taken it upon themselves to up the ante for his little experiment that night. With a significant lack of interest in Shane’s claim to the bench, he confidently plopped himself down right beside the dark shape-shifter. He was livid, but managed to keep himself from jumping up or over reacting right off the bat. This intruder may only be sitting down for a brief moment, perhaps to tie his shoe or catch his breath. He decided it best to give it a minute and see if the problem would resolve itself.

He propped himself up in his seat. He was aware he might have appeared as though he were sleeping on the bench, which could have thrown him into this pickle in the first place. If that were the case, perhaps sitting up would help him move along quicker. He was pretty sure most people didn’t have much interest in sitting with a homeless person. He couldn’t look past anything that would help to remove this intruder quicker. Shane was a pretty territorial person by nature, and invasions of personal space were something he simply couldn’t bring himself to tolerate.

He waited. And waited. And waited. The man just sat there with a smug smile on his face. Shane continued to sneak glances in out of the corner of his eye, watching him intently. The man never once acknowledged Shane’s presence. He quickly began to realize that he wasn’t really that mad before. NOW he was mad. He had a short temper, and it was ready to burst. He had lost interest in keeping his low profile any longer. By this point, as little time as it had actually been, it had become a matter of pride for him. He had claimed this bench as his own, and now he needed to defend it.

He turned to face the man beside him, staring directly at him. The man continued to have no interest what so ever. Shane lifted up his hat and pulled down his collar, revealing his face. The man continued to ignore him. Shane could feel the slip of a mouth of his ripping open and expanding, opening to a grin that quite literally ran from ear to ear, jagged and filled with simulated teeth. His bubbling throat managed to slide out the word “Move” calmly, yet with a hint of anger he had no interest in hiding. If this didn’t scare him of, He’d just have to eat the man.

> „Move“

Well, the sleeper was awake. The sleeper was a mutant too, from the looks of it. Surprise, surprise. New York was full of them. This one looked quite delightful. And it was bent on telling Martin what to do and what not to do. He was trying to bully Martin. That was the young, still almost teenaged looking, maybe gang member sitting on the bench. A proper person of 20 or so years would have run. Probably they'd have hiked their pants and run. Martin, though, was not a proper person of twenty years. For one he was older. And for two he was much more dangerous. For three: He did not like being pushed around. Unless you paid him to be pushed around. Then he would be mildly irritated with you. And still do the job you paid him for. Get good satisfactory scores, too. Not that he had ever needed those.

„So you have big, big teeth.“ Martin said with an air of sound disinterest to the non-sleeper that had occupied the other half of the bench. Blue-gray eyes were looking at Shane from a little under a meters distance. They looked somewhat cold. And not scared in the slightest at the sight of many pointy things. Or at the smile. The young man even went so far as to offer one of his own. Small and almost amused. “But my cap is not red.” He added behind. He was not in the habit of picking fights. He hoped that this wouldn't be one. Maybe a bit of humor would put him off. Humor delivered in notes that could have discussed the current price of oil. Or how to best behead someone. There was no emotion. None.

There were few instances that Shane could truly confess to being caught off guard. He never would have expected a small conversation on a bench to be one of those times. He figured his plan was pretty straightforward; Make a scary face, tell the man to move, maybe growl a bit, watch as the stranger runs off with a stain in his pants. Not today however. Apparently he wound up with the one person in the park with little to no interest in a monster.

The man just sat there, smiling back at him, completely un-phased by what he had assumed would have been a pretty jarring sight. He even managed to throw out a snarky comment on the quality of his teeth. Shane was furious. Or at least he thought he should have been. Confusion really was the only label to put on him at the moment. His shoulders lowered and his posture slumped down a bit. He needed to figure out where to go with this now.

“Red… cap?” Shane forced the words out. It was equal parts genuine question (he really hadn’t understood the comment) as well as the perfect vocalization of his complete confusion. His wide grin shrunk inward from the ends, filling itself in like a liquid spilling into the cracks. A significantly less jagged frown now took its place.

His composure was slowly slipping away, and already all of the chips were in the other man’s corner. Physical action could always be taken, but he’d leave it as a last resort. He still wanted to try and maintain a low profile, plus, this man gave off a level on confidence that left Shane feeling like he’d probably lose that fight. So much for his long, dull evening.

The big glob of goo, living goo, it was surprised. (Surprise!) About the face, the very face he had, that young face, which had dared to say, in his face, something about teeth. Yes. Big teeth. The pointy things it had made from goo. So say Boo! And so confused it was, that monster from clay-or-other that it lost its teeth, or quite a few, too. Martins face, the young one, widened its smile, for it was victory. In some way it was. In your face, face.

“You never heard Little red riding hood?” The voice, the young voice, was quite amused. “I will presume you were like this since birth then.” For no mother who loved her child let them go, flow, without telling them the stories. Stories of the past. From Brothers Grimm come unto us, the story of the big bad wolf, who ate, as you guessed, a grandmother. Right now though there was only one wolf in central park. He was not made from goo. Whooo. One thing the boy turned man wanted to say to blob though. One little thing. This was: Boo! To your face. Of goo.

Shane was unimpressed. This man was demonstrating a pretty extreme level of confidence, but as of yet, he had done nothing to prove it was warranted. As far as he was concerned, no one should be this cocky, especially around him. He’d established by this point that his relationship with other people was that he scared them off. As much as he always hated that that was the relationship, he had come to accept it. It was his standard. This on the other hand was turning away from standard and becoming highly unusual. He wasn’t impressed, and he wasn’t going to back down.

“So you’re not afraid of the big bad wolf huh?” Shane asked, trying to emulate the smug tone he’d been receiving this entire time. His voice still carried with it the rasp and unpolished quality it did when he had only recently assembled his mouth: the throat needed time to shape up and function properly. He plopped back down on the bench beside the man, completely removing his hat and pulling down his scarf and collar. There weren’t many people around, and by this point and the sun had almost completely set, so it wasn’t very easy to make anyone out. In he sat down and crossed his arms in a very stand offish manner. Looking directly at the squatter, he slowly began to tweak his face to resemble a wolf, his nose elongating into a snout with ears sprouting up. “I’m not going anywhere.” He growled out.

“No, Wolves don't scare me. My granny once killed one.” Martins voice was matter-of-factly now. The first part of the sentence was very true. There was little that could scare a person like Martin. And surely it was not a glob of goo pretending to be a teenager and looking for an opportunity to compare the lengths of teeth...sticks, whatever Alas the last bit was a lie. But his compatriot did not need to know this bit of troubling information. Need not be troubled by it more likely. “You should be going to visit Xavier's Sister School for the Gifted.” They might teach you manners he thought inside. Saying the latter though would have been a bit much, even for Martin. Too blunt and certainly made to set the now half-wolf-glob on his barricades. A mental sigh... seeing he was already there “You might learn something there.” Well... Considering all things. He was not good with subtlety tonight. It was dark and he had expected a peaceful stroll.

Around them the night was shifting, the small rest of starlight exant here slowly disappearing behind a cloud that reflected the light from the city below in an eerie orange tone. Martin was breathing deeply through his nose, enjoying the smells of near-wood and flowers.

Sending this one to the Mansion might be fun. Really. Because this is where children went. Were sent, by their parents. For being foolish. And maybe for being mutants, too. But there was seldom a distinction between teenagers without or with xgene. The ones with simply found more colorful ways of getting their hormones raging.

It was beginning to seem as though arguing with this man was pretty pointless. He clearly wasn’t afraid of Shane. Hell, he didn’t even seem phased by him. Shane’s presence barely seemed to have any effect of this man’s life one-way or another. It’s exactly what he had wanted when he first came out here for the night. This exact thing; to be accepted for what he was without being thought to be a monster. This man was giving him exactly that. And yet here he was, completely unsatisfied with that. Clearly he had become far too used to being hated, he was actually starting to expect, and possibly even want it. That’s kind of screwed up, he thought to himself.

In this realization, he slumped back down into the seat, letting his rear slide forward on the bench. He flipped his head back and stared up at the sky, realizing how much he missed the stars. It’s not the kind of thing you this about if you never get used to them being there every night. To him, they feel like a bit of a missing friend in the nighttime. Like someone who should be there to support him had abandoned their post. He let out a long sigh of relief as he switched his face back to its typical human shape. Up until this moment he had so many different emotions swelling up inside his body that he hadn’t known how to react to anything. Now, however, there was just the two: embarrassment and curiosity.

The stranger had mentioned Xavier’s, a name he’d heard before - in passing – relating to mutants in some way. He didn’t know much about it, in fact he may have learned more about it from those two sentences he’d just heard now then from most of the other conversations he’d overheard up until that point. Xavier's Sister School for the Gifted he called it. Right there he’d learned that it was a school, and that there was another one. Sometimes it’s amazing how much you can learn about something just from hearing a full name.

He turned to look back at the stranger again, though with far less confidence then before. “What do you know about Xavier’s?” he asked, hoping to move the conversation away from his clear defeat in this stand off before it had a chance to develop. Besides, if he knew about Xavier's, maybe he knew a fair bit about mutants as well.

Martin was quite good at explaining things. In a painful fashion. With painful punishment. And other effective motivators. This though was instruction that was not motivated by anything but curiosity. And this curiosity might lead his new gooey friend into avenues of thought that were dangerous to Martin. Nobody at the Mansion knew – as far as he was aware – the true nature of their onetime Gardener. So he could reveal not too much to this one. And could not reveal his own past. Not that he would have anyways. These things were nothing for strangers.

“It is a school for our kind where children can learn. They offer you control of your powers and a family to fall back on. In some ways. All you need to do is become nice and fluffy.” As he had stated before, he was not good with subtlety tonight. Not good at all.

Two words jumped out at Shane, grabbing hold and not letting go. “Our Kind.” Could this man sitting next to him be a mutant as well? He’d been implying he knew a fair bit about them in the short time they’d been conversing. Things weren’t quite adding up though. He hadn’t had many encounters with other mutants, but they few he had had still been obviously mutants. Amber had the eyes. Gina and himself had their entire appearance. But this man, as far as he could tell, was just that. A man. Nothing unique or special going on. Nothing to mark him as an outcast from society. Nothing that should give him the right to claim to be a part of this club he’d been born in to. Shane had never been proud to be the way he was, but he wasn’t about to let some Joe Schmoe claim he was on the level with him.

“What do you mean, ‘Our Kind,’ exactly?” He looked the man up and down, scanning for something he may have missed. There was clear frustration in his voice again. The confidence he’d lost only moments ago was flowing back to him, which was really what he needed. This was supposed to be his night. He resented the fact that some stranger was able to get this much of a rise out of him. But perhaps what was getting to him the most (although he was unaware it was the case) was the idea that there could be a mutant who could have the benefits of being a mutant without the pain of rejection that seemed to be so common among the few others he’d met with recently.

He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Martin sighed. A short and controlled, but nonetheless exasperated noise as he was being scanned from head to toe. “Really kid, do you think were all that obvious?” He waves a hand mildly in his direction. Some part actually wanted to poke that globs chest. There was no irony or willful hurting in his voice, just the plain question. And maybe a hit of suggestion. You have a lot to learn. You need to learn a lot more before you can walk about really. Silly children.

He seemed to pause for a second. “Not every mutant has visible signs about them. I just happen to have some.” He removed his head-covering to reveal his third eye. A perfect copy of the other two, sitting right between the others, on the nape of his nose. It looked as cold as the other two. Then it happened. In one eye black bubbled up from below, just something sickly rising from the bottom of a pond. Another was veiled, white drawing across the colors and the pupil until nothing remained. And in the third the iris seemed to bulge and extend until it filled the whole eye with a sea of steel-blue color. It took only a few seconds for the transformation to happen, while Martins mind broke the borders that lay beyond, the realm of time. Things... shattered there.

And then they were whole again, the eyes normal. “No, you don't want to know what that just was.” Martin said as he was replacing the cover. His hands were calm. One held a small red streak. A nick maybe. From the bench.

Every time the man spoke, Shane felt like he was learning something that he didn’t quite have all the pieces to make sense of, just yet. It was like he had missed a vital step in the recipe that was this conversation earlier on, and nothing was quite adding up the way it should from that point onwards. The man responded to his question with an answer that lead him to believe that he was, indeed, a mutant of some kind, despite his normal human appearance, It was crushing his understanding he had about mutants, even if those facts he held true were all based on assumptions and hearsay.

But then he threw another curveball Shane’s way. Lifting the piece of black cloth from his head he revealed a third eye living firmly in the middle of his forehead. It took quite a bit to shock Shane when it came a person’s appearance, but he was certainly taken back by this turn of events. Shane’s empty whites locked onto his third. He was mesmerized by it, until it began to change.

He subconsciously backed away from the man a few inches on the bench as his eyes seemed to take on a monochromatic state, each eye it’s own colour. The entire event seemed to happen way faster then he could comprehend, because before he really knew what the man was doing, or if it was dangerous for him to still be there, it was over. His eyes were normal again, and Shane was left feeling confused. It was beginning to become a trend that he really wasn’t a fan of. Regardless of what had happened though, it seemed fairly clear that this man was a mutant, and that meant that they were on the same side, right?

“So, you are a mutant then.” Shane confirmed aloud. He was anxious to make allies in this city, and from the impression this man kept giving him, if nothing else he wasn’t someone to have as an enemy. This could be a chance to learn a bit about the community, and he intended to cash in on it. He remembered back to not too long ago when he first met Amber, and the Sanctuary she had talked about. Maybe he had more information to offer in respect to that.

“You seem to know a bit a Xavier’s.” He started, choosing his tone carefully to almost make his words seem like a challenge. “Have you ever heard of the Sanctuary then?” If he didn’t end up knowing anything, it wouldn’t really matter, The important thing to do tonight was keep this stranger on his good side.

Martins smile was bedazzingly patronizing. Wide and almost crimson-red with blood. Well maybe not blood, but a bit of danger was there, on the edges, hinting. One of his hands idly began moving up to the top of the bench, resting. He seemed quite content. Lounging. “Really, Sanctuary... Who hasn't heard of them?” The mutant shelter front wasn't really all that special. It was the thing that grew in the shadows of that publicly lauded venture that kept humans hairs nicely white (or bloodied) and the population of New Yorks Finest on edge without end. There were streets in New York whence the Police did not go. The block around the Sanctuary was such a place. And with good reason. The Order never had had much qualms about killing people. One of the reasons he had not gone to them. They killed much too much. And without much purpose behind it. “Come into the right circles and you might hear things about both places that turn your nonexistent hair curly for a lifetime.” Now that was also delivered with smiles. An invitation maybe. Inside Martin was smiling at a memory. A cat-woman had once introduced him to the more obvious factions in the city. Sitting in a Chinese restaurant no less. And it was only much later that he had found out about his current main employer. The Kabal. Now that was something not to tell children that needed to learn to do their shoelaces.

He’d caught Shane’s interest, though perhaps more so then he’d intended. He knew about both of these places, and as best as he could tell, he knew some shady details about both of them. It threw him off to hear him say something like that though. A school and a place named Sanctuary didn’t really strike him as a kind of places that would harbor shadowy secrets. Of course, that could just be his naivety taking point on his understanding of this entire situation. He certainly could never describe himself as knowledgeable of the city and how it worked. Hell, he barely had the insight to make appropriate guesses as to the way things played out among the various people and communities. All he had were the little clues he’d picked up along the way as he tried to put the puzzle together without knowing what it was meant to look like.

“What’s so bad about them?” Shane asked. Any degree of superiority he may have had in his tone was completely gone. He was trying to be as inviting to talk to as he could possibly be, which was not an easy task for him. “From what I’ve heard, they seem like pretty good places to be.” He continued to listen for an answer, but his eyes darted to a group of three you people walking towards them from down the path. They were laughing amongst each other loudly, the moon now rising out from behind them above the tree line, making their shadows long. It seemed to be fairly full, illuminating the park quite well with little help from the disappointingly dim lamps along the path. He pulled his collar up again and slouched in his seat as he turned his attention back to the stranger. There wasn’t any need for anyone else to see what he looked like tonight. As far as he was concerned, one was more then enough, especially since he turned out to be a mutant himself.