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Trace nodded at Hunter's explanation about the IDs and winced a bit at how Hunter came down on Raine. Trace had realized the nature of the girl's request. Being an inter-dimensional refu-gitive was not all it was cracked up to be. Their world was big and scary at the best of times, but it was theirs. It was familiar. The people they loved were there. People always liked to criticize refugees; they were likely targets for many political sects. The irony of that, however, was that they were the victims. They were the poor and the disenfranchised. They were also unfamiliar. They were targets. It was an awful life. You had to do what you could to survive.

"Raine is just feeling lost, Mr. Hunter. Think of the most recent dimensional crossover sci-fi movie you've seen and our lives have been about a hundred times worse. They always gloss over the particulars in those." he said, hoping he wasn't completely overstepping his bounds. Hunter had to learn sooner or later that Trace was a smartass. Might as well get that out of the way early. "Of course. I didn't expect you to." Trace replied to his comment about not discussing classified ops in front of the ladies. That only made sense. The statement had more been about letting Hunter know that Trace was serious about the business and he had no shortage of work ethic.

The next statement was a bit complicated to answer. Did Trace really have a place to stay? The answer was almost certainly no. He'd been staying at the Mansion for a while now while he was on the mend and trying to get things up and running. He hadn't exactly expected this opportunity, but he was going to do whatever he could to get out of the X-Men's hair as soon as possible. They'd been kind to him. Even after he'd explained what had happened. Well, most of what had happened. Their doctor had been able to glean many details using his power, but they hadn't gotten all the details. Trace barely even remembered most of the details. There had been a lot going on. And a git of a SUPER agent had put a knife solidly into his back. That did kind of awful things to your recollection. The massive blood loss didn't help, either. He noticed Raine clearing her throat and looking like she was the last person in the room that wanted any attention on her. That was usually the best way to draw all attention in the room to you. Trace let it slide. She'd had a rough day and he wasn't really sure what that was about anyway.

"My living situation is kind of... Tenuous, at best." he explained "I was fortunate enough to find some friends over here shortly after I landed." he said, the joke not playing with anyone present. They had no way to know the situation. But Trace was amused and that's what was important. "They won't turn me away. But my presence isn't exactly good for them. If there's somewhere else I can go, I should." he said simply. There was no point in being dishonest or tough in this situation. It sucked.

Trace let out a sigh of relief. Canada. Right. This was one instance where a jurisdictional issue was a good thing. He smiled and nodded his thanks at Rianne, stating "Why do I always seem to end up owing you one every time we interact?" he said, the joke evident. In truth, Rianne had saved his Bacon several times. He wouldn't have fought her if he'd had to. But then again, on some level, he'd known he wouldn't have to. She was good people. It wouldn't have ended that way.

That obnoxious truth-speaking voice in the back of his head spoke up again at that moment. You can't go home after this. You've done too much. They'll put you down on sight. it nagged at him. It was right. SUPER, let alone the government as a whole would be all over him if he set one toe back through that rift. He couldn't even guarantee that he was safe here. They very well might come looking in this side. He didn't know.

Raine snapped him out of that dark line of thought. She had a great talent for doing that, even though she had no idea it was even a thing. She implored Rianne to be careful on the other side of the rift. Trace had to agree. "I have to agree, Barbie. No matter how indestructible you are, SUPER isn't something to mess around with. If there was any way to avoid it, I wouldn't even have you go back across." Trace said before waiting a beat. "Wait, why are you going back again?" he asked, realizing he didn't know the answer.

Raine went on to make a comment about getting him a job so he could buy them lunch. "If I get this job, I'll buy you all the happy meals you can handle." The truth was, that was going to be all he could afford until the paychecks started rolling in. "Speaking of which... Hunter's been gone a while. Wonder what's going on..." he said, unconsciously looking at Rianne

Trace frowned at her response. Privileged information? Oh that didn't sound good. That was definitely the kind of thing that could get you killed by a shadow government agency that's existence was denied by the very same government that it served. That fact had probably occurred to Raine by now. Trace could almost see the gears turning in her head. Oh no.

Then, she said it. "Is that why you were there that day? To--"

In that instant, Trace's mind went into overdrive. What had he really been there for? He'd been ordered to tail her. Was that the mission? Was it implied that he was supposed to kill her? Was there some kind of subtext that he hadn't read into in the orders? Trace's suspicions had been confirmed the moment they'd tried to kill Raine. But until that point? Had that almost happened because Trace hadn't acted?

"--tie up loose ends?" Trace sighed and shook his head. "You're not a loose end Raine. No, I was not under orders to kill you. I wouldn't have even if I was. I'll be straight with you: I was assigned to investigate you. You know, find out your relations. Who your friends were." he said, the implication made, but not overly emphasized.

"Up until that day, I'd had growing doubts. I'd never caught an assignment where I'd had to take a life. I know that others had. It was all line-of-duty and him-or-me stuff. But I'd never made that choice. It wasn't an option for me. I'm wondering if I wasn't paying close enough attention. That maybe I should have caught it sooner. I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing." He explained. It sounded a bit hollow. Suitable, because that's how Trace felt.

Raine then made an excuse to get up and leave. "Raine, you're one of the only two people I know in this entire universe. Literally. I'm pretty sure that regardless of what's going on, if you want it to be your business, you're welcome to it. I know I'd feel better with you here. But if you need to leave, I understand." Trace said simply. It really wasn't time to mince words.

Trace settled back in his chair and listened to the older man speak. He glanced around the room, which just so happened to be lined from about mid way up the wall to nearly the ceiling with firearms. That definitely made an impression on the person sitting at the table. Trace was unaffected by the display. Oh sure, everyone of the firearms was locked, loaded and most likely ready to fire. But he could just as easily get ahold of any of them as anyone else. And he had his power to help.

Trace turned and gave Zero what he hoped was a reassuring smile. She'd expressed a bit of discomfort because she didn't realize she'd be invited in. Truthfully, Trace didn't realize they'd be invited in either, but he wasn't going to show hesitance or insecurity. Those things didn't belong in this type of job. He'd have to talk to her later and explain a few things. The only other time they'd really interacted, Trace wasn't being very 'agently'. Hugging a random woman that walked up wasn't very agently either. But hey, he was just glad she wasn't dead. Some allowances had to be made.

Ah. Now down to the real questions. What had Trace done on the other side of the rip?

"Well, Mr. Hunter, that's a bit of a loaded question... " Trace began, taking a breath. "On the other side, I was employed by the federal government as an Agent for a paramilitary black ops division of the CIA. There's a lot that I wish I could tell you, but, infosec was a big priority for them. I went through standard issue training through Langley and was selected for service because of my... Additional qualifications." Trace said referring to his mutant powers. Hunter had seen an example of those earlier.

"But... I can tell you that I have skills in reconnaissance, counter intelligence, combat and security. We were thoroughly instructed in anti-mutant tactics. SUPER was presented as a way to protect the little guy. People who didn't have powers and couldn't fight back. And that was partially true. I met these two on missions like that." Trace indicated Rianne and Zero with a nod. "But then I started looking deeper. I found out some things on missions that made me begin to question. I wasn't thrilled with what I found out." Trace explained, drawing a breath.

"There were rumors of mutants disappearing. Being experimented on. Being killed. Everything I was able to turn up indicated nothing. Not a peep. And in intelligence, that's as good a confirmation." Trace stated gravely. "Anyhow, I was on an op tailing someone" Trace skirted that topic "When Zero here helped me stop a really bad mutant from killing an entire classroom of people. SUPER's version of thanks involved a bullet in the back of her head. I couldn't stand for that. Not anymore." he let the story stop there. He didn't add the point about him causing the rip or anything about that. He'd been talking for a few minutes, so he stopped, waiting for more questions.

Trace nodded at the compliment. So he'd impressed Hunter with his skills. That was definitely a good start. Trace had been hoping that he could somehow maneuver this whole thing into a job opportunity. The next sentence made him realize that he'd had much more luck with that endeavor than even he'd imagined.

”Consider that y’r first interview. It was nice of y’ t’ show up f’r y’r second.”

Well, that was unexpected. Trace grinned and said "Well, if I'd known this was an interview I'd have dressed more accordingly" he said, nodding to his attire. Secret agents in the movies did a terrible job dressing to blend in. A three piece suit and bow tie really doesn't cut it when you're trying to blend in. A zip up hoodie, a pair of every day jeans and his faithful old Chuck Taylors were much more suited to the job. If you saw someone dressed like that, your eyes were just as likely to bounce right over them as they were to stick, even for a second.

Trace heard a noise in the background, the sound of heels clacking on pavement at a hurried pace. Must've been someone late for work. The building definitely said We're modern but we want people on time but Trace got the impression that things were all too practical to worry about the clock ruling the world. As long as things were getting done the way they were supposed to, all was likely right in the world. Of course, security assignments rarely held a normal schedule. They were the kind of job that required you to drop a significant portion of your life into the job.

Trace wasn't precisely unprepared (or at least he tried not to show it externally) when someone walked up and put their arm on his shoulder. He shot a glance to the side, ready to hit the pressure point up under the person's arm. He slammed a time bubble into place around himself, Hunter and the would-be assailant. His jaw went slack, however, when he realized exactly who it was that had put their arm on his shoulder.

"Trace, is this guy bothering you?"

Trace's heart skipped a beat. Zero?! She was alive! She'd made it!

Before Trace really knew what he was doing, he'd turned and scooped the girl up into a hug. He couldn't really help himself. He hadn't known what had happened to her after the moments preceding the rip. In fact, she'd been the last straw in the series of events that had lead to his break with SUPER. They were going to kill her. An innocent girl. She hadn't done anything other than save a bunch of lives. How dare she, right?

"You're alive! I can't believe it! You made it! How did you get here!?" he asked, chuckling when he realized he'd just verbally and physically blitzkrieg'ed the poor girl. He let the time bubble and the girl go, looking back at Hunter. Wow, what a way to start a second interview. He then noticed in the background Zero's companion. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her. Rianne had mirrored Raine, getting around behind his prospective employer, ready to intercede as needed. Oh man, this could be bad. What happened when a person from the other universe met their double? Could it cause another rupture? He caught her eye and nodded with a grin. It was too good to see her to worry about all of that. "Constable B." he said, trying not to embarrass her in front of Hunter. You didn't want your self to think of you as Barbie. That was a weird thought.

"Mr. Hunter, allow me to introduce a couple of friends from my side of the rip. This is Zero. And the woman in a tactical position behind you that I'm sure you've noticed by now is Officer Hunter. It's a long story, but I wasn't even sure either of them was alive." he said, cringing on the inside. What an interview.

Trace Tanner, former agent of SUPER, causer of the massive rip in time and space that was currently throwing New York City into utter chaos, comedic name-r of villains, sat on a park bench wondering where it all went wrong. Looking at his situation from an outside, objective angle, he'd gotten incredibly lucky in several instances. He'd managed not to get killed by an army of the dead; he'd managed not to get killed by a half-goat, half-man psychopath that looked like something out of a bad horror movie. And more recently, he'd managed to not get killed (or captured) by one of the most efficient and deadly agents of his former employer. 

And yet, things still seemed pretty black for the 28 year old. He had no job. He had no friends here. Hell, the entire universe he had known was potentially sealed off from him. His parents. His friends. His ex-girlfriends. Well, maybe things weren't all that bad after all. 

Trace leaned his head back and let out a long breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding. The day was typical for a New York Summer morning, cool with the potential for afternoon warmth, no rain. The sun was starting to get bright and there was a slight breeze that carried the sights, sounds and unfortunate smells of the city across any passersby. Having grown up in a slightly smaller big city area, Trace could remember a time when he'd lived somewhere with much less traffic and slightly less noise. But that was a different time.

And a different place.

Was anything about this universe the same as the old? Were the streets that he'd run as a child the same? Could he go to his parents' apartment in Chicago? Would they be there? Or would it be someone else? Would HE be there? 

The questions started to make Trace's head hurt. There were so many possibilities. It was too much to consider all at once. 

Trace had been in this plane of existence for a few weeks now. He'd landed (literally) with some compassionate souls who were kind enough to take him to get medical attention. He'd been pretty dinged up after his Stalker encounter and had nearly died. He'd been taken to a mansion that wouldn't have been allowed to exist in his home universe where a wonderful doctor had taken care of his wounds. Some events transpired and after recanting his tale what felt like a thousand times, the mansion staff had extended them a welcoming hand and allowed him to stay in an extra adult room where their version of the X-men were housed. The fact that there was a version of the X-men here lead Trace to many, many more questions. But they were different.

Here, they were vigilantes, true, but it was not the same as back home. They were something more here. They were official, if not accepted. They had different outcomes. They were very, very nearly accepted. It was pretty amazing. A choice by someone, somewhere could have caused all that difference in his own world. But things had gone a different way entirely. 

And if the rip he had caused was permeable, SUPER was coming. They'd be looking for him, they'd be looking into the mutants on this side of the breach.

Good luck to them.

The occasion for Trace to get out and about today was to track down a potential lead for employment. While he was okay where he was at in the Mansion, he didn't want to trade on their hospitality too long. And besides, word had gotten out through the community somehow that Trace had some experience as a government Agency in another universe. That brought about certain job opportunities that weren't available to everyone. 

On his first excursion out of the Mansion to take a look at this new world, Trace noticed he was being tailed. Oh, the guy was good. That wasn't at question at all. He'd done everything by the book and even improvised a couple of times when Trace had put him into awkward positions. It was seriously impressive. But Trace was better. It had taken him most of the morning and it was a long, difficult trek, but Trace managed to give the guy the slip. But he didn't lose the guy entirely. 

Trace decided that it was probably best not to let the stranger following you disappear back into the crowd without at least finding out who he was. So he began to tail the other guy. Not giving anything away, not giving any missteps where he could be caught. Trace was a professional, and his world was a little less forgiving of mistakes than this one. The scar on his back itched a little. A reminder of a misstep that he'd always carry with him. 

He'd followed the man back to a nondescript, modern looking building. It'd taken several trains and a cab ride to get there. He'd had to use his power (which still worked after everything, thank god) a few times to avoid detection. Trace noted down the location and made mental notes. Discrete security. Possibly people in plain clothes watching the perimeter. Trace would be willing to bet that this was some kind of surveillance post. Maybe a government SCIF. Or maybe some kind of private facility.

Trace withdrew to the mansion where he'd borrowed a computer to do some research. A quick search on the address found that the place was called 'Blackforest Tactical'.  They were, apparently, a high-end security company that had provided several clients including several foreign dignitaries, a couple of billionaires and even someone who'd gone on to be a presidential candidate. Impressive. Likely fake, but impressive.

Okay, so not precisely fake. It was likely a front for a real money-making enterprise. Potentially a government enterprise. SUPER was fairly nondescript itself. Hopefully, it wasn't this world's counterpart to SUPER. He was incredibly well-qualified for that kind of enterprise. 

So that's how he'd found himself outside Blackforest Tactical. On a bench. Waiting for the guy that'd been tailing him. Trace was about to find out what their interest in him was, one way or another. He patiently waited, breathing in the morning air. This could be an opportunity for Trace to turn things around.

Hey all, my posting might be delayed for the next week or two. Work has been consuming my life (read: soul) for the last couple of weeks and should get considerably easier on/around Aug 16th. I'm going to try to pop into the Cbox periodically and post some, but might have some delays.