No suits in the current EZ-Bake Oven known as Downtown. Garrett dressed casually, light khaki pants and a yellow button up top, short sleeved. This was no formal inquiry, though it was certainly an inquiry. It had been no labor to find out who Jorge Cervantes was and since he had never been arrested for anything, walking into MRC headquarters was as easy as walking into any other public building. AN ID check, a breezy jaunt through a metal detector. Sure, he got a few stray glances from cops. In his opinion, they could look at him all day on the videos later if they liked.

The elevator was a bit stuffy, smelling of stale sweat and a smattering of aftershaves. He sucked at his teeth as the floors eased by. With a soft ding, he stepped out on the floor, looking at the little directory and following it promptly to the squad room. Walking in, it was surprisingly small. He assumed that with the apparent mutant crime waves going on, it would be larger.

He saw the man he had seen in the abandoned tenement at his desk. He was quite sure he would be recognized as well. Approaching the desk, he admired the style and background of his nameplate. It was impressive. " Detective Cervantes. May I sit?" he assumed it would be alright to do so and did so.

Slow days. They were a rarity and a godsend for Detective Cervantes as he sat behind his desk, taking the opportunity to catch up on paper work. The MRC was always buzzing with activity: phone calls, case updates, interviews with witnesses, but thankfully today he had yet to receive a field calls. Not that he did not want to go out and do his job, but he had done so much of his job lately that he had yet to finish filing his paper work. The chief had already reamed him once for not getting them in on time, but the detective was always quick to respond that he was business in the field.

Now that he had the opportunity, the detective would quiet the excitable chief’s commentary on his inability to do paperwork and actually finish some.

The day was warm in the offices, but Jorge didn’t fully mind it. He typed dutifully on his computer, wrote out statements and findings for his files and signed on some important paperwork that needed his signature. All in all it was turning out to be a rather productive day. He grabbed his phone off the cradle and dialed the next in a long line of updates that he needed to gather. But as he did, he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye.

Now, it was not that Jorge was unaccustomed to seeing people walk into the MRC offices, obviously. As a matter of fact he didn’t know exactly what it was that made him turn. All he knew was that when he did, he spotted someone rather familiar.

It took Jorge a moment to actually look at the man before he recognized him. The bald head, the pale skin, the look of his expression and the lax way with which he walked; he had seen it all before…only it was leather clad. Jorge was not some memory guru, but being an observant cop, he knew how to recognize people and this was definitely a man that he remembered.

>> " Detective Cervantes. May I sit?"

Jorge arched a brow as he looked at the man. He remembered from that tenement. He was dressed in leather, running around with a creepy-looking doll mask on. In that abandoned apartment, Jorge had been cornered and nearly killed by a lunatic mutant named Razorback who seemed hellbent on breaking his spine. If it were not for this man here, Jorge was sure the mutant might have succeeded. But he had seen neither hide nor hair of the vigilante since then. And now…all of a sudden he shows up at his desk?

“Garrett? Correct?” Jorge asked as he nods to the empty chair. “By all means. What can I do for you?”

Sitting in the chair opposite the detective, Garrett ran his fingers over the smooth skin of his head. Though he could grow hair now, he had taken a liking to shaving his scalp with a straight razor. It didn't leave the smoothness of his original state, but it brought him back to his roots. " Yes. Garrett Wills. I am sure we will meet many times over in the future, so I wanted to let you know that little experiment of mine was a one time thing. I'll leave the crime fighting to the professionals." That was the olive branch that he had.

Garrett always carefully used his words. Words were much more powerful than most mutations. They contained potent energy of the thought processes which crafted them in the first place. The path he was going to take with the officer was slippery at best, treacherous at worst. Especially in the confines of a squad room, where they had all the power. First things first. " I had heard a rumor that many of the officers of this division are mutants themselves. Is this the case?" A positive answer would make a big difference to Garrett.

It didn't mean sympathy on either end necessarily. But considering his ethos, every foothold was a foothold.

>> " Yes. Garrett Wills. I am sure we will meet many times over in the future, so I wanted to let you know that little experiment of mine was a one time thing. I'll leave the crime fighting to the professionals."

“Well…that’s good to know,” Jorge said with a nod. “Though, I am still grateful for the assistance you gave me that night.”

Indeed the detective was grateful, but he was also thankful that the man was going to end the crazed endeavor. The detective appreciated groups like the X-Men because they at least attempted to organize in an effort to fight the crime off the streets. The problem someone like Garrett though was that whenever anyone attempted to take the law into their own hands as an individual, there is bound to be problems. At least the X-Men were trying to go straight, they worked with the police.

Individual vigilantism was an entirely different beast on its own. Whether they harm the wrong person by mistake or caused property damage with no real way to repair of compensate those whom were troubled, it was always a hot button issue because they answered to no one.

Jorge was thankful for the help, but thankfully the man was quitting before he got himself killed.

But the detective had a feeling that the man was not here simply to inform him that he was leaving the crime-fighting business. Part of him could see the in man’s expression, feel it in the air, that there was more to be said. And he could not have been more right.

>> " I had heard a rumor that many of the officers of this division are mutants themselves. Is this the case?"

The question was interesting and a little surprising. Jorge was curious as to why the man would be curious of such. It could have been perfectly innocent but judging by the way the man spoke and his demeanor, there was a reason behind it.

It was a never up to debate about whether or not the MRC employed mutants. To him it was more an equal opportunity, fighting fire with fire sort of thing. The police were always the first ones at the scenes before people like the X-men were around. They took the biggest hit in the battles between mutants so why not attempt to even the playing field. Yes, the MRC did have mutant cops, but they were not hired off the streets. Each and every single last one of them earned the badges that they wore.

Jorge nodded, finally in response Garrett’s question as he watched him close, looking for any clues as to the man’s reasons for asking. “We do have an equal opportunity policy. Whichever experienced officers want to transfer to us are free to do so, whether they be mutant or human. Why do you ask? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Garrett liked the detective's demeanor, regardless of his genetic placement on the big picture. The two men displayed a kind of unspoken agreement. Their meeting was auspicious and the follow up was up in the air so far. It was clearly foreshadowing to the manipulator, who waited to see the response to his newest query. It was slippery.

“We do have an equal opportunity policy. Whichever experienced officers want to transfer to us are free to do so, whether they be mutant or human. Why do you ask? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Like an eel, slippery and focused. One direction and that is the same as the one it attacks with. Garrett noticed his ability to use bureaucracy and spin yarns. Sure, he was a cop, so it was normal. Bureaucracy was on the buttered side of the bread when it came to Seizure. His mouth replied in kind, though perhaps a bit unkind, depending on how the gene pool turned out. " I'm sure you will be doing some research, so I thought I would save you some legwork. I prefer mutants to humans. It's just who I am. So, I wanted to ask you a little question that has been itching at the back of my optic nerves. Would you have permanently maimed Razorback had he been merely a huge human?"

Garrett cocked his head to the side a bit, like a bird might. Cops had other means. Bashing a wrench into the eye of a suspect until the entire organ is destroyed had irked Garrett more than a little.

Jorge could feel the air go stale in the room. He didn’t know why he suddenly had a large sense of apprehension loom over his head. All he felt like was that this man had something more on his mind than simply coming here to shoot the breeze. It was a dark and imposing feeling that Jorge had felt before, normally around lawyers or news reporters. Whatever the reason, he really didn’t know. But something snickered in the back of his mind, poked at his spine and told him that there was more to this man’s visit…

…boy was he right…

>> " I'm sure you will be doing some research, so I thought I would save you some legwork. I prefer mutants to humans. It's just who I am. So, I wanted to ask you a little question that has been itching at the back of my optic nerves. Would you have permanently maimed Razorback had he been merely a huge human?"

There it was.

To anyone it may have seemed like an innocent question…but it was loaded. Jorge had dealt with these types of statements before, people attempting to trip up the interviewee with anything that may be considered incriminating or an announcement of guilt. But despite the fact that he was a little surprised to hear such a thing from a man who ran around the rooftops inflicting pain on his fellow mutants, the expression on his face didn’t falter in the least.

One too many times the detective had to face the hot seat, the glaring vulture-like eye of a lawyer or reporter seeking to find some way to get him to make a mistake. But the detective did not get to be a highly decorated police officer for several years without learning how to keep his words sparse.

“Rest assured, Mr. Wills,” Jorge said just as calmly as if he were at some burger joint ordering food, “I left nothing out of my report of the incident, except the identity of a certain vigilante, who aided me. If my actions are deemed as inappropriate by my superiors then I shall deal with those consequences when they arrive. Until then, I did what I had to in order to survive a very harrowing experience.” He picked up and clicked closed a pen that he was signing paperwork with and set it gently into his pen cup. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Ever watch a tire go flat? Not with a burst of action, as if running over a nail, but more the slow, eventual descent into uselessness? Garrett saw this very expression in the detective's face as he spoke. It was no real surprise, to see the defenses go up when faced with an ethical question. All bureaucrats, regardless of specific titles, had a sixth sense for dispatching queries of a dubious nature. He would have answered in a similar fashion, though he didn't have the stigma of public opinion to be bothered with.

So, his face turned up in a grin as he nodded in approval. " Spoken like a bureaucrat. I can surely respect that. Also, if you wanted to amend your report and place me at the scene, it would be alright. I've done much more than dance in leather in broad daylight." Advantage denied. " There's no reason to take the deflecting tone, however. I represent no organization, only myself." Yet. But , who cared anyway? The Orderlings on the wall were all so blatant and messy. Focus would remain on them as others got things accomplished. Run circles, dog.

A click of a pen and the man was ready to move on to files. Garrett was not going in the out slot just yet. " As a matter of fact, there is something else. You may come to discover that I get around. So, it should be no surprise to you that I am aware of a certain paramilitary mutant organization that operates out of the Mansion. We know which mansion. I am also aware that said organization is in cahoots with the police. Is it wise to shun some mutants and praise others? It would seem as if mere compliance with human law is the golden ticket which absolves mutants these days. Your thoughts?"

The detective’s expression remained neutral as he simply listened to the man speak. It was obvious that he was not easily intimidated, not that that had ever been Jorge’s intention. He was not going to amend his report by putting Garrett name in it. He was a man of his word and he did say that he would not reveal who it was that had helped him. It may not have been in the best of judgments that he did that, but the detective liked to believe that he was an honorable man and that his word actually meant something when he gave it.

Still though, this man was starting to slowly grade on is nerves. It was obvious that this was not his first time doing it, and more than likely he enjoyed a small part of it.

>> " As a matter of fact, there is something else. You may come to discover that I get around. So, it should be no surprise to you that I am aware of a certain paramilitary mutant organization that operates out of the Mansion. We know which mansion. I am also aware that said organization is in cahoots with the police. Is it wise to shun some mutants and praise others? It would seem as if mere compliance with human law is the golden ticket which absolves mutants these days. Your thoughts?"

Jorge merely arched his eyebrow as he sat back in his chair, looking Garrett squarely in the eye. Human law? There was no such thing to him. The law was the law and he did not believe that mutants required their own set of rules to live in society. He was a mutant and he got along just fine with regular citizens. Then again when it comes to someone like Razorback, with an obviously physical mutation, shouldn’t they be granted their own set of rules? After all, society has proven time and again that people who are “physically different” normally have a harder time to making their space in the world.

But that was a cop out. Taking that same line of thought, nearly every social, ethnic, religious class has had to go through the exact same trials. There is always a period of trial and error before a society finally was able to evolve and accept the newcomers. Jorge believed that’s the state that they were in now…they were slowly beginning to accept more and more mutants and it would only be a matter of time before they were no different than any other social, ethnic or religious class.

The one thing that would not help the cause is mutants running around believing they lived outside the law.

Jorge casually twirled his click top pen between his fingers as he watched Garrett closely. By the time he was done talking, Jorge had done the only thing he could do…he shrugged.

“Mr. Wills, as I said, if you have a problem with the way this department runs it affairs, then by all means, write the mayor, write your congressman, file a complaint. This paramilitary group does work in conjuncture with the MRC but that was well in effect before I came along,” he smiled warmly. “My job is to keep people, both mutant and human, safe. And that’s exactly what I intend to do, even if that means fighting my own kind. I’m sorry if you disagree with that. But, as I said, if you have issue with it, then by all means, file a complaint. Other than that, there is little I can say that will appease you.”

Telepathy had to be the best gift one could recive. Pity he didn't have it, as the detective before him was one of those Mickey Spillane types, no doubt. Probably some kind of easy jazz and a running monologue going on in his head. A raised eyebrow in response to his matter-of-fact stance. Just a stance, but seemingly effective. A shrug to tie it up, corresponding with more pen clicking.

“Mr. Wills, as I said, if you have a problem with the way this department runs it affairs, then by all means, write the mayor, write your congressman, file a complaint. "

Standard red tape spew, mixed with a dash of personal annoyance. Tasted like sunshine and snow cream.

"My job is to keep people, both mutant and human, safe. And that’s exactly what I intend to do, even if that means fighting my own kind."

..fighting my own kind.[/i]"

That solved that little mystery, Detective. Also put a spin on things. Good or bad remained to be seen, but spinning all the way.

"Other than that, there is little I can say that will appease you.”

Garrett smiled and rose from the seat. " I don't know about that, but no reason to wax semantic. I think we know where we stand. " He stood behind the chair, pushing it up to the desk, his fingers drumming quietly across its back. " I'm sure we will see each other again. Perhaps next time we will both be wearing suits. The black tie type, of course. Don't be a stranger." Cryptic with a side dipping sauce of minor threat. A good appetizer. Garrett would scarf it down anyday.

Jorge’s expression was completely unreadable as he watched Garrett seemingly mull over everything he had said. The man was like…a lawyer. He listened intently to every word that Jorge had to say and seemed like he were making mental notes on them to pick apart at a time of his own convenience. What was his game? The detective wished he knew but there would be no point in outright asking him. It was apparent that he would reveal nothing.

Only a few seconds passed before the man finally replied and stood to make his exit.

>> " I don't know about that, but no reason to wax semantic. I think we know where we stand…I'm sure we will see each other again. Perhaps next time we will both be wearing suits. The black tie type, of course. Don't be a stranger."

“Of course. Same to you.” Jorge smiled back nonchalantly. “You have an excellent day Mr. Wills.”

As he watched him go, Jorge could only watch him with every bit as much curiosity as when he first met the man. It was obvious that he was up to something or wanted information on something, but whatever it was, he didn’t know. Nor could he put his finger on. And, as much as that disturbed him, he was going to have to let it go. There was nothing he could do about it right now…

Except stick a pin in it and return later.

Writing “Garrett Wills” on a small post-it, the detective peeled that from the bunch and stuck it onto his bulletin board. He’d have to keep an eye on this man…a close one at that…