A dark figure with long black hair, piercing green eyes...and a particularly odd style of dress walked alone in the moon light. The full moon illuminated the most well known part of New York...central park. This place was infamous for the muggings and the mysterious disappearances which happen and continues to be infamous, perhaps it will always be such. The reason that Seth now walked the eternally infernal park was because of the huge surprise that had greeted his return to the States....The Mutant Registration Act.

Perhaps it is merely because I come back from Holland that I find this surprising... He sighed as he thought. Perhaps I came to this scum place because I know that this place will never change. Unlike politics and man's current thinking of what is 'moral' and 'immoral'. He leaned against a tree looking up at the moon closing his vibrant green eyes. Damn those puritans and their christian "love", they constantly discriminate and alienate....sure the target changes but the behavior stays the same. he thought cursing the human condition and wishing he could simply...eliminate them. Though he halted himself and reminded that was the job of the gods...divine justice would come...all he had to do was wait.

Seth looked around tracing the movements of the wind with his eyes, letting the cold gusts of wind lick over him. He could hear his mothers words as if they were floating to him on the wind, a divine message to him from her carried all the ways from the Halls of Amenti. Do not despair...remember...injustice will always exist...it only matters how we respond to it. his mother's voice reminded him. Seth took that small comfort and hugged his arms to himself embracing himself in a hug.

A normal person would hug themselves for warmth, but Seth always produced twice the normal amount of human body heat...It wasn't because of anything he could remember but he was always just immune to most cold. His only girlfriend had joked it was because he was just like the cold on the inside, heartless and uncaring. Seth examined his own hands and his wristband Was she right? Am I a monster? Cold and uncaring on the inside? He wondered, if he was it was only because he had watched his parents die....something no kid could live through. And in a sense neither did he, Seth had been different before that event...he had been Nick. He had called himself as Nick and people knew him as Nick, a carefree (relatively) and nice kid...with wierdo parents...but after the events of that one night...he had changed and changed for the worse.

All of these memories faded to blissful blackness as he opened his eyes, to the sight of a man holding a knife to his throat.

"Gimme your money, mack." the man said lowly

Seth's eyes scanned the man over, no powers...he was not Chosen. Seth grabbed the knife with his gloves, bending the knife back with his strength.

"I'd run." Seth said feeling generous to humanity.

The crook surprisingly got into a philly style boxing style and bounced around "Man did you ever make a mistake!" the crook said.

Seth laughed a throaty laugh. The man stopped and looked at him kinda freaked. Seth stopped laughing...his eyes darker than usual, shadows danced around his face.

"No...but you did." he said evilly as he slammed a sucker punch into the guy's jaw followed by a quick "rising dragon" strike that he had learned from his Taijutsu training by his father. The crook fell down to the ground bloodied and surprisingly got back up.

"Look man you got skills...but so do I." He said as he dropped into his philly stance again.

The crook fired off one, two, three, and four punch combo's in a flurry of movement, this man had obviously been a boxer in a previous stage of life. Seth's eyes kicked in as he saw the punches coming, easily blocking them or redirecting them, expending minimal effort on this poor man who was way out of his league.

The crook's jaw dropped as he backed off "Dude...what the hell?" he stammered.

Seth shook his head "Why won't humans ever learn..." he said as he ran directly at the boxer and with one swift punch to the face, Seth floored the would be mugger. The mugger's body, carried by the momentum, literally left the floor and crashed into a tree, his knife clattering to the floor next to him.

Seth looked down on the man and slowly, surely, crushed the crook's hand with the heel of his boot.

"Justice."

Carrie sighed. So much for this city being the refuge of mutants. Still, humans helped make life interesting. When they aren't messing up our lives, she thought sourly.

She squinted, her eyes still sore from detergent the blasted washing woman had thrown at her as she got kicked out from another expensive hotel. Again. Back home people were more stupid and she tended to do the throwing. But no, here it's New York and humans are a lot rougher than they look. Even, as she stared ahead, the hulk who just stalked across her vision and seemed to be messing with the man at the tree.

Carrie reached for the stolen baton tucked securely in her belt loop. Night. Darkness. The guy had a huge back that screamed easy target. It had been a long time since Carrie had practiced aim and throw. Being undercover from the retarded Registration Act meant wandering around as a vagabond. It meant no fun. Now, here was the perfect opportunity…

Then bam. Carrie blinked. The guy had been floored. Was he dead? Oh who cares. Must be the loner up front who'd knocked him out. She would give him a piece of her mind. Unless he was a mutant himself. This was New York after all…

'Hey you,' she said quietly. The park was silent, he was bound to hear. She picked up the half empty box of Chinese take-out and waved it, clacking chopsticks in the other hand. 'Come and eat. And what was all that about? You killed my fun.'

Seth looked up from his recent 'fight'. You can't even say that with a straight face, call it how it was...a slaughter. he thought to himself. After straightening himself up he walked over to the source of the voice he had heard.

"You're out late." Seth said cautiously "And I'm not hungry." he sat down next to her. People sure do have the oddest fashion senses... He thought as he looked her over Then again...I've got no room to talk He thought.

"He tried to mug me, and he ended up biting off more than he could chew." he said shrugging. "He'll live...his pride bruised but I tried not to kill him....I have to keep a low profile....I'm already called a 'mutie-lover' by my audiences when I go out preaching my message of tolerance." he said sighing.

Sometimes the best place to hide is right out in public He rationalized.

Carrie nodded sympathetically. 'Yeah, I got the boot from home, never mind spreading tolerance. You sure you don't want a bite?' Before he could answer, she popped another dim sum in her mouth. It was cold, chewy and congealed, but it was something. 'Something stolen,' she muttered.

'Tell me about your past.' She put this politely but bluntly, not bothering to ask. 'You can 'preach' tolerance to me now if you want. I'm all ears and camping out tonight.'

Seth was taken aback by her forwardness "Uh...what do you want to know?" he asked willing to say some but not much, mostly about his years at University and his papers on the international treatment of mutants...nothing earlier...because if he did, it would surely make him lose control. Losing control is the last thing I need here, especially with the random raids and the mutant hunting robots that I've heard of....I best be cautious.

"You're camping out here? thats...odd." he said still perplexed as to why this woman wore such outlandish clothing "And...why the clothing?" he asked puzzled. "And I don't want to preach, I want to enjoy the night."

'Oh make yourself at home. I really would like company if you'll care to know.'
She looked at him quizzically. 'Dr Garsha, despite your youth and fairly clueless wanderings around New York, you are obviously an educated man. Surely you can tell that I am a pennyless woman doing my fair bit in wandering. The clothing,' (pause) ' - my grandmother's. A family heirloom,' she said shortly. 'I steal what I need and make do with what I want. Now what I want happens to be a place to sleep and on a fine night like this, who'd want to be cooped up in a some spiffy apartment anyway? So there you have it, can you, um, stop staring at what I'm wearing? I mean, I know it's odd…'

'But back to your history. I don't know, we really do have all night if you'd care to stay. ' Carrie's face lit up - 'Tell me, have you always known you infected?'

Seth hadn't realized he was staring at her clothing but sure enough he had been, especially at her Celtic brooch. "Forgive me, its just not usual to see people dressed as a civilization as old and archaic as the Celts." He said softly as he drudged up his knowledge about the Celts and how very unique their system of magic was. "During the Iron Age, Celts lived across a wide range of lands, from the Iberian Peninsula to Anatolia, but the ultimate origin of the Celts is a subject of controversy. Before the archaeological discoveries of the 19th century, the Celts were considered to be inhabitants of the south of Europe. Since then, some scholars have placed the Celtic homeland in what is now southern Germany and Austria, associating the earliest Celtic peoples with the Hallstatt culture." he recited out of his doctoral paper linking all magic-centric cultures together to a father civilization. "Celtic witchcraft has as its basis a strong sense of spirituality and a love of the earth. Central to this love are the Goddesses and Gods, who play a strong role in Celtic worship. The Celtic religion recognizes two main deities; the Earth Mother Goddess and the Horned God. But Celtic Wiccans also worship many other minor deities who each represent specific qualities important to Celtic individuals. Celtic worshipers celebrate the same Sabbaths, perform rituals and magic, and have a strong faith in their spirituality, just like any member of the Craft. The main differences between Celtic witchcraft and other forms of the Craft is that with Celts, magic is everywhere. Magic is woven into their jewelery, their tattoos and all their artwork and everyday items such as clothing and cutlery." he said softly.

His piercing green eyes met her soft brown eyes as he said "That's why I was staring at your clothing, please forgive me." he asked still wondering what type of magic might be contained within the girl's brooch and clothing.

"I adore the outside as much as anyone but I do fancy a hotel every now and then especially when I can afford it." he said as if checking the time. The truth was, he loved his money, and he hated sleeping outside...he loved comfort and the aristocratic pleasures. "But I shall stay, you're the only interesting company I've had all night." he said softly.

"Infected?" he asked puzzled "What do you mean?"

'I'm impressed,' Carrie said lowly. Clearly there was more to Dr Garsha than what she'd first thought. 'You know your field well. Or, did something stronger than education draw you to the Celts?' She gave him a sidelong glance. Third-generation American-Hispanic? How'd he know so much?

She fumbled with the brooch down her front, twisting it. It was soothing. She didn't know why, but it was soothing. Pulling a handkerchief out from the pocket of her left sleeve, she started polishing the jewels on the breastplate she was wearing. He must think I look like some priestly weirdo starting a cult.

'I come from Belgium,' she started slowly. 'A little bit further away from Austria, you know?' A warm evening breeze blew in, lulling Carrie's senses. In the distance, a city bird skimmed the surface of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir. For a moment, Carrie's evening shield shimmered, an ivory gowned holograph of her 19-year old self. Yawning quickly, the pajama-ed image vanished. Stupid fool, she scolded silently hoping Dr Garsha hadn't noticed. After all, they were in the darkened park beneath an oak tree.

'My parents never talked much about our ancestors. Grammy sort of went senile by the time I was old enough to stop being ignorant and ask.' Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers over the jewels and twisted the brooch again. 'She always wore this, until they forced her to take it off at the nursing home. Da had disappeared by then. They say he'd been buried. But I don't think he was. Dead or anything. No, come to think of it, I don't. '

She gazed intently at Dr Garsha, and thought back to Dan. He was knowledgeable, no question to it. Like Dan... and like Grammy and Da. If only she felt it was okay to take sample of his genes and cells.

Then, shaking her head slightly, as if to get back on track, 'Infected? Well, people like us, or as they like to say, mutated creatures.' At this her voice twisted slightly, coming out almost in curdled undertones. 'You know, people call it all sorts of things, 'mutants,' being the most common.'

He had accepted the outdoors, and, she thought more consciously of this, it seemed, her presence. Still, with his impeccably clean and straight cut trench coat that proclaimed sophistication (despite the less-than-well-furbished clothes underneath and street-smart wise-guy wristband), said otherwise. Pointing at a banner of the MoMA, NYC's famed contemporary art museum, she asked 'Want to carry on our conversation there? I know an exit door that's never closed for workers. There's a coffee shop we can sit down in.'

You know your field well. Or, did something stronger than education draw you to the Celts?'

Seth smirked at what she was implying, "I am a doctor of the field of Occult Studies...I should know much about the Celts. I know much of their magic system and of its weaknesses, strengths, and relatives in the area." he said unafraid of what she would think. He saw her wring her brooch in her hands, "Stop or you'll damage it." he said softly as he lightly placed his hands over hers and gently pried them off the piece of jewelry. "Please" he finished "I would hate to see a family heirloom ruined."

'I come from Belgium,' she started slowly. 'A little bit further away from Austria, you know?'

Seth nodded, he could tell something else was driving her motivation here. Something she wasn't telling him, and his natural curiosity resolved to find out by the end of the night...no matter the cost. His curiosity was right as his astute eyes picked up on the shimmering of light so quick he couldn't make out what it was, but he could tell something had just happened.

My parents never talked much about our ancestors. Grammy sort of went senile by the time I was old enough to stop being ignorant and ask.' Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers over the jewels and twisted the brooch again. 'She always wore this, until they forced her to take it off at the nursing home. Da had disappeared by then. They say he'd been buried. But I don't think he was. Dead or anything. No, come to think of it, I don't. '

"I understand, they knew it was better to assimilate rather than face the persecution that comes with acknowledging the old ways...my parents unfortunately weren't that intelligent...or perhaps they just didn't care about being different." He said softly. He knew inside himself generally when people just 'disappeared' like that....it was often the government who was behind it...but he didn't want to crush this woman's hopes...in all likelihood the man was dead or being tested on or worse...in the camps right now.

Well, people like us, or as they like to say, mutated creatures.' At this her voice twisted slightly, coming out almost in curdled undertones. 'You know, people call it all sorts of things, 'mutants,' being the most common.'

Seth almost laughed out loud, he stomached the laugh and then put his hands (which had been resting on her leg, he had forgotten to move them after he took her hands away from the brooch) to his head. "We are not mutants, listen to me." he said making eye contact "We are special, we are Chosen by the gods...or god whatever you believe..." he said having a noticeable distaste for the monotheists. "We have been blessed and now it is our job to use it to change the world." he said, his eyes sparkled with dreams "We are charged with bringing about a world where we Chosen are not persecuted, where we can use our powers for the good of the world!" he said lifting himself to his feet, positioning himself underneath the full moon "WE ARE THE GODS OF THIS NEW WORLD!" he said stressing the words.

After a few minutes of the thought running through his head, he dropped his hands and sighed "Or at least thats what I think." he said softly. "And no, I don't want to take it into a coffee shop, if we're going to speak further then we need to get to a secure location. Follow me." he said as adjusted his glasses with one finger and he offered her his hand to help her up with.

She took his hand, stood up, then quickly withdrew it. He's too forward, I've never met anyone who's as forward and intelligent as him before. She eyed him intensely, then shifted her focus away, lost in remembrance. 'Fine, lead the way.' They walked in silence, for awhile, sometimes with Carrie slowing down and trailing behind, looking over her shoulder, then hurrying again to keep up. Dr Garsha would nod occasionally, waiting, every now and then, but generally he seemed intent and firm on getting to wherever he was leading.

'You seem to know what you're doing,' she observed, although in truth it puzzled her slightly, what was a well educated scholar like him doing wandering about in New York City? And in the dead of the night to boot. She realized he was analyzing her, trying to find out more. She shrugged. Well if he finds out a thing or two, who's he going to tell anyway?

She had clammed up inside when he said they were special, Chosen, he'd said. The Gods of the New World. Perhaps he was, 'yes, perhaps you are,' she whispered, as if someone in the ghostly night would hear. But not me. Dr Garsha seemed bent on destroying humans, or at least he didn't seem to care if he did. She tried to cover up the panic building inside, she despised those who killed mutants herself, but he didn't know, at least not yet, that she hadn't always been a, a, what had he said? A Chosen. No, she'd been infected, and that was entirely different.

'Dr Garsha, as it seems it's going to take some time to go wherever we are going, can you tell me some more about your past? How did you become interested in the Celts? Does that,' she hesitated, then plunged on, 'does that have anything to do with you being a, a Chosen?'

He glanced at her brooch again, she'd noticed he'd been doing that quite a lot. 'Perhaps you have some form of Celtic blood running through your veins…' she said half to him, half to herself, 'diluted, but it may be there. How's your family like?' Rubbing the brooch absentmindedly again, her mind lulled. She tingled in envy and said almost thoughtfully, 'No, if your parents don't care what everyone else thinks of them, then I think it's quite a gift. Regardless whether you think they are intelligent or not. It's about guts and slyness, surviving is. Showing yourself to be who you are is either a brash and foolish thing to do or it is wildly courageous.' She paused. 'At least that's what Da said. As for me,' she laughed softly, 'I'm somewhere in between.'

It should be safe, wherever they were going. He's not the only one interested in finding out a person's history. She smiled and fell in step with him, the tap-tap taping of her stilettos steps matching his more sturdy, muffled ones.

Seth didn't give anymore answer, he merely kept walking, finally he arrived at his destination....the airport. He grabbed her and snuck her behind the airport to what looked like to be a private airfield. There a pilot looked at Seth and nodded in respect, then glanced to Mietzl and smirked as if he approved. He quickly lowered the ramp to the private jet and escorted the two into the jet. He raised the ramp and climbed into the pilot seat "Fasten your seat belts, we're gonna jet!" he said over the loud speaker as he roughly pulled out of the hangar and sped off down the landing strip. The plane gained altitude and began to fly.

"Now, we can speak in privacy." he said as two female flight attendants of gorgeous figure brought Nick his usual, vodka on the rocks. They looked to the newcomer and offered her a drink menu.

"Order what you wish, we're going someplace where we can get you cleaned up. I won't have a fellow Chosen out on the street."

She can sense him sneering at her. Declining the drinks menu, she instead buckled herself securely into the seat. Soon they were gliding steadily. Carrie unbuckled herself and nodded in the direction of the washroom. 'I'll be right back.' Not waiting for her host's reply, she moved past the chattering flight attendants and down the wide aisle… and past the washroom into the kitchen. Tucked away was a mini cabin room labeled 'Store.' She glanced quickly back. All was clear. The women were attending to Dr Garsha's beck and call, and he seemed entertained. Or amused. Whatever it was, curiosity beckoned. Turning the handle, she saw a small room, filled with discarded cardboard boxes. Scribbled over the tops in an elegant hand were the words 'Hate,' 'Love,' 'Dragon,' and 'Regret.' So this American-Hispanic had an Asian influence to him as well as the Celts. How interesting.

Making good of her time, she quickly went to the washroom, splashed water on her face and pulled loose tendrils over her ears. It seemed she was in for a long flight, and had no choice but to stick it out. It had been a long time since her last flight. The last time she was on a plane she had thrown up. She hoped it won't happen this time. Right before leaving the washroom, Carrie bent her legs, gave her heels a sharp strike and walked out, heels fully contracted into the sole of the shoes. I might as well make myself comfortable.

Heading back out she sat down, and watched as her host finished his conversation. The women laughed and offered him a slice of cheesecake. Carrie shifted abruptly. 'Sorry to interrupt, but exactly where are we going? I haven't expected you to fly us out of New York when you said somewhere private.' Something about him gave her a twitch of suspicion. One doesn't offer flights for free. It just isn't done. She narrowed her eyes. 'If you're trying to rub it in that you're wealthy, I can tell you that you're wasting your efforts.' She tugged at her sleeves and tried to rub off a dirt smudge.

'If you're trying to rub it in that you're wealthy, I can tell you that you're wasting your efforts.'

Seth shook his head "Why would I do that? I merely wish to not be spied upon by the government nor be at risk of being reported." he said softly and somewhat dejectedly. I thought she might have a little more trust in a fellow Chosen...but such is life... He thought as he drained his drink.

"We're going no where, we're just flying at cruising altitude so that we can have a private chat. If you should decide on a question that I will pose in due time then we may be headed to El Paso, Texas." he said shrugging.
He caught her glancing at his tattoos "Like the tattoos?" he asked inquisitively.

She hadn't realized she'd been staring at his shoulders, eyes shifting from one to the other. The one on the left she'd recognized, a popular art symbol she'd often seen. 'That one's 'love,' she turned to the other one. 'And I'm guessing this one's 'anger' or something similar? Or, I don't know.. It could be 'Chosen… is it?'

He'd said they were just cruising around in midair. Or maybe they'd end up in Texas. She'd never been to Texas. Well, it couldn't be worse than New York. Sighing, she smoothed out the creases in her skirt.


'Well I guess, to business. Or back to our conversation. Or… well actually, I have a simple question. How are you Mr Garsha?'

Seth shrugged "As well as one can be in this country." he smiled happy to be back in his luxury "So I've told you some about me, lets hear about you." he folded his hands together silently wishing he had his notebook to take notes on his second encounter with a mutant in America. "What can you do?" he asked, his bright green eyes staring down her brown eyes.

He smirked and gave his iris' a swirl, a move that no normal human should be able to do "I'm very curious."