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>> "I'd always go fer the kill with a pistol. I'd rather not add t' the risk of gettin' killed…I guess that makes you the braver of us."

Jorge smirked at the comment. “Or just stupider. I hear that one a lot.”

It was true. Jorge had a distaste for actually taking a suspect’s life. If he could avoid it at any cost, he would, but that did not mean the man was not willing to pull the trigger when it came time to do so.

He still remembered a moment that was so instrumental in this mentality. Back when he was working Vice in Miami. It was a case that provide to be consistently confusing. Suspects were getting drugs in and out of the city without so much as a single whiff of them being caught. For the longest time Jorge’s precinct was in turmoil since they didn’t know what was going on, or how this was happening. It was then that a suspicion was made and Jorge and his partner at the time were called in. There was evidence of a rat in the works and they needed to work together to catch him.

Heh. Little did Jorge realize, until it was too late, that this rat was his own partner. A man that he had beers with, played poker, had he and his ex-wife over for Christmas dinner with his family. He was what Jorge had considered his closest friend. And the man used that to weasel around the law.

It all came to a head one night. Jorge had begun to suspect his partner and followed him to the docks. When the evidence was apparent that he was siding with the criminals, Jorge tried to give him a chance. Guns raised at one another, ultimatums were man, but in the end, Jorge was forced to squeeze the trigger.

The detective shot that man. a man he trusted, straight through the heart. His partner was dead in moments and Jorge had to live with that.

He blinked as he returned to reality with a shake of his head. Bad memories. He may have been foolish man for holding back when he was on the job. But the detective knew that if it ever came down to it, he would stop a suspect…at any cost.

“You have some impressive skills,” Jorge finally commented to the man’s shoot capability. “You in law enforcement? Military?”

It was really breaking his heart thinking about what this young boy had gone through. Jorge hated working cases like this when he was back in Miami because it always took so much out of him. It was almost as if just listening to these kids and their horrendous experiences caused him a piece of his soul.

Maybe it did. For a child to have to go through such terrors and not come away from it without a piece of their soul taken away was simply unheard of. Maybe that is what they needed to just come out and tell their stories: maybe they needed just a piece of a the person willing to hear them in order to help them talk. It was like borrowing from one jigsaw puzzle in order to get the entire picture of another; in order to Jorge to understand what any of these kids have gone through, he needed to give away a piece of himself.

If that was what Michael needed in order to relate to Jorge, in order to open up, then so be it. He wanted to help that boy, to keep him as far away from that psychopath who could have harmed him so readily. That was why the detective did his best to not press Michael to talk, but to give him plenty of opportunities to relate his story on his own.

So far…it seemed as if it was working.

>> “My...my leggo. I got it when...when my dad and mom decided that I should stay in my room. And...and things like my Leggo I played played with. Sometimes when things were bad I’d get more leggo, or I’d play with it under my bed sometimes. It was easy to hide under...and...and I played leggo for a long time...and found out the rules.”

Jorge said nothing. Instead he kept his eyes on the leggos and kept trying to build. But it was obvious that the boy’s words had managed to have an effect on him. While concentrating on trying to stick to the pattern, it quickly became apparent that he was having trouble separating the rules from the leggo building and listening to Michael’s story. Normally he would have taken out his pad of paper and pen by now, but he didn’t need to freak the boy out by jotting down his words. Instead, Jorge memorized them as best he could until he could leave the room and jot everything down.

It was not evident to him, though, just how distracted he had gotten with Michael’s words until the boy had managed to crawl over, again and pointed out his mistakes.

>> “It’s messed up again...the blue goes after this one...”

“Oh, sorry about that, Michael,” he said with a warm and apologetic smile. Jorge did his best to undo the pattern until he could fix that one piece he messed up. He then concentrated and continued with the set pattern from there. “You’re very good at remembering the rules. Did…you know…things get ‘bad’…often?”

There was just too much going on. First the detective, Paul, and Shawn had found themselves in one of the castles many chambers where they were being measured for clothing (and judging by the boy looks and batting eyelashes of one of the handmaidens, he was sure he was being flirted with in a medieval manner), then the next thing he knew everyone was being summoned out of the room by a rather boisterous voice. But as he turned to see who the owner of this voice was, after al it couldn’t have been the Duke, he was struck by the sight of the light haired, glowing woman that had stepped into the room.

“Lumen?” was all he could muttered as he watched her with surprise.

It had been months since he had last seen Lumen. She was supposed to have been investigating the missing children cases. What the hell was she doing here? And how did she know Paul? At least that is what he assumed with the way she had ran up and hugged him so tight. The detective was definitely going to be having some questions for her.

But before he could say anything, he stopped and simply listened to the discussion that followed. For whatever reason, the man who had walked in with Lumen was pretty bluntly asking them what their business was here. There was something different about this man though. He was not just some commanding noble. It seemed almost like he could see through their little charade. This was proven when Paul attempted to speak up for Shawn, whom he had never meant, and Shawn attempted to explain what was happening.

Jorge narrowed his eyes but said nothing as the man peered between the three of them. When their eyes locked, though, Jorge began to feel a pressure in the back of his head. The sensation was odd but he didn’t fight it. He had a feeling that if he did it would have only made matters worse. But in that span when the two men looked at each other…there seemed to be some sort of understanding made.

The man narrowed his eyes but nodded at the detective.

Jorge could only nod back in equal respect. They were simply trying to do their jobs.

“Well,” Jorge finally said as he glanced between them all. “This is a cozy gathering, but I hope that there are some answers too?”
Unfortunately, before they could get any real answers from either Lumen or the man that had come in with her, there was a knock on the door. When it was opened, Jorge was surprised to see that the women who had taken their measurements had already returned, bearing clothing. They must have already had some on hand and had simply altered them to fit their measurements.

>> "Now if you'll excuse us we need to change." [/color]

Jorge decided that they would keep playing along until they were given the okay not to. He followed one of the handmaidens who had taken his measurements. Handing him his clothes, Jorge, was relieved to see that none of them consisted of tights. That was at least a plus in this scenario. As he looked over the outfit, though, he had to admit that he was impressed with the work. A thick brown coat that was studded in silver and hung with sleeves just a little baggy, but it looked comfortable. The lighter brown pants and thick boots came next, it was all magnificent work. But what was most impressive was the emblem that had been sewed onto the left breast, that of a ferocious boar’s head. These people definitely worked quick and they worked in quality.

Scabbard and belt provided, Jorge sighed as he looked over the materials that had been handed to him. Thoughtfully he looked them over, deciding how this was going to work.

“Everything to your liking, my lord?” the coy handmaiden asked with a bat of the eyes lashes.

“Oh, just fine,” Jorge said with a nod and a friendly smile. “Many thanks,” Jorge said as he pulled off his coat. Subtly he detached his gun holster and glock 9mm in the bundle of his coat. He needed to keep a careful track of that. The last he needed was to leave a handgun in medieval times! Who knew how that was screw up time! But as he set his coat aside, he noticed that the handmaiden was still there, eyeing something on his belt. Jorge glanced down to see that he was still wearing his badge.

“That…is most beautiful,” the maiden said. “But, I thought your emblem was the Boar?”

“Of…my kingdom,” Jorge attempted to explained. “This…is a family crest.”

The maiden smiled as she eyed him. “I’ve…never met a Spaniard before. You are certainly the most handsome I have seen yet.”

Jorge, so not needing this attention, smiled appreciatively and nodded. If that woman’s eyelashes batted any harder she was going to take off! But, thankfully, she left her flirting at just that, flirting and excused herself so that he could dress. He hoped that that would be the end of it…but he doubted it. Anyways, Jorge took the time to dress…

When he finally returned to the rest of the group, Jorge was dressed in an outfit that fit him rather perfectly. Silver sword sheathed in its scabbard, Jorge crossed his arms over his chest as he glanced between them.

“These pants are not really made for boxer shorts,” he grumbled as he adjusted his belt. This was followed a hidden giggle from the gathered handmaidens and he arched a brow. It was that same one that had flirted with him earlier. Great, the last thing he needed was more attention…

Welcome back Warren!! Awesome new character! Cannot wait to see him around the boards!

Jorge was making the boy uncomfortable. Even he could see that. But this meeting was important and the only thing that Jorge could do was to tread carefully and hope that he didn’t make the boy clam up. He needed him to feel comfortable so Jorge did his best to appear as none threatening as possible. That was why Jorge asked to join the boy in playing with the legos. If he could just get Michael to lower his defenses a little, the detective might be able to get an accurate statement from him.

The burly detective sat once Michael had given him the permission to and cleared up some space. Jorge nodded appreciatively as he slowly lowered himself until he was sitting with his legs crossed on the other side of the legos.

But even as he tried to calm the boy, Jorge could not help but notice the boy’s timid nature. His flinching, his scars, the way he made himself as small as possible. It was truly a tragic thing to see such behavior in a child as young as Michael. Jorge had seen such behavior before. Many a times was he called out on suspected child abuse cases when he was working in Miami and all of them just managed to get to him at a level deeper than he would have liked. Police officers always tried to keep themselves separate, to not get personally involved. Obviously that is not always possible.

Jorge connected and he wanted to help each and every one of these victims that he came across. Michael was no different. He really hoped he would be able to help.

>> “Th..there’s a pattern. You’ve got to go in the order that I go in. It’s white...then green, and then blue and other things like that. It’s all in order anyways.”

The detective nodded as he watched Michael work. He had to admit that the boy certainly had a great sense of symmetry and color. In silence he watched, observed before he finally started his own attempt at building a structure similar to Michael’s. He tried following the color patterns but it was obvious that he was not as adapt at picking out the right colors as Michael was.

He smirked a little when the boy finally glanced up at him and Jorge showed him what he was building.

“I guess I’m just clumsy. I can’t make anything that looks nearly as good as yours, Michael,” Jorge said with a nod. “You do good work.”

The combination of the water swirling and the rain that fell from the sky made for a pretty awe-inspiring sight. Around the exterior of the water that Jorge had managed to whip up, the lava hissed like an angry reptile the second that it had touched it. Normally this would have done little to stop the flow of lava but the fact that Jorge kept spinning the water and replacing it proved to be a pretty tough barrier against the molten rock. The clouds of steam floated into the air, the water boiled as it spun, but Jorge was not going to back down. No matter how exhausted he was feeling.

Indeed, Jorge was pushing himself to the limits right now. If Gemma saw this, she was more than likely going to kill him when he got home…if he got home. At the moment the mind that was Jorge Cervantes inside the watery elemental could not really conceive if he was going to survive this. All he knew was that it was looking more and more unlikely.

If these were his last moments, then at least he was going out the way he wanted to, saving people.

The water churned and shuttered as his focus began to weaken. The longer he piled more water into his enormous title shield, the weaker that he was getting. But his will to keep going was what made him hold on. Water flow straight from the ocean, spilling onto the spinning shield as molten rock was shock cooled until it actually began to stop moving. Glowing red slowly died down into embers and then into hardened, black rock. People marveled as the sight they beheld. The water managed to sustain itself and the lava piled upon itself as it cooled down.

It was such a beautiful sight to see. But few, if any, bothered to look at the large, watery elemental that churned the waters for them. They didn’t see the form shaking and shuttering to hold itself together, nor the look of absolute pain and exhaust on its face. Jorge was in pain over the amount of strain he felt manipulating that much water. It was so much so that he was sure that he was actually hearing his heart bounding in his ears, even though he was made of water now.

Jorge was beyond his limit now, but still he didn’t stop. Not until he was sure that everyone was safe.

Hardened, black rock now circled around the beach and stopping at the very water line. After it had piled on and cooled do to the combined efforts of Jorge and Cold Steel, lava that was not directly touching water began to take a detour, sliding away and around the people trapped on the beach until it spilled into the ocean and further cooled there. They were saved and the lava would even run its way into the cool waters of the ocean.

The danger down, Jorge slowly let down his guard and willed the water to return to the depths from which he had pulled it. Once it had receded, Jorge eyed the black rock and sighed, thankful that impromptu wall was holding and diverting the rest of the lava flow away. But the second that Jorge took to breath, blackness incased his mind.

The watery sentinel shuddered and began to melt before the eyes of the people on the beach. Water shrunk down and down until it was the size of a normal man again. Once that had occurred, flesh replaced water and a naked Jorge Cervantes fell into the ocean, swallowed by the waves. Unconscious, barely breathing, Jorge sank momentarily before he floated to the top. His body bobbed in water as he drifted left and right…