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With a sharp intake of breath and his body jerking, Sledge was suddenly awake. His back was aching, and his neck did not want to turn more than a centimetre or two in either direction. As comfortable as his couch was, it was not intended to sleep on sitting up. The telly was still on the news network, currently discussing what had been said by which politician. On his lap was a detailed map showing the battle movements of the French and Irish troops at the Battle of Castlebar. Wincing he tilted his head first to the left, then to the right, hearing a satisfying, but slightly painful crack with each movement. This was the problem with spending many nights in a row away from his bed. At the most inconvenient time he would crash. Sledge groaned and began to extricate himself from the couch.

It wasn't as though he had been out of the world for days, but he felt like he had a pong about him. A shower was called for, if for no other reason than to get his muscles to loosen up a little. Yes, a shower would be a good idea right about now. His back protested leaning forwards to turn the television off. From top to toe he felt like lead. Coffee was in order as well. If he had been asleep for this long he might as well stay up now. One day the sheer amount of caffeine that Sledge consumed would come back and bite him in the behind, but today, he needed it.

His mind was still in that half aware state that happens when you suddenly wake up. What had caused him to stop sleeping wasn't entirely too clear. Now that he had turned off the news his flat was relatively quiet. In the background the fridge made a quiet humming sound which was peaceful in the dark of the flat. There were no signs of any intruders, so that couldn't have been what bothered him. Nothing about his flat would suggest a need to wake up from his slumber. Sledge had to have been really out of it to not have even bothered laying down on the couch when he passed out. Not making it off the couch and into bed he would be able to understand, but he could have at least laid down. Now his body was aching and his brain was telling him that he really needed to put himself on a proper schedule. On his way to the shower he paused over his desk, studying the measurements that he had so meticulously taken of the Sanctuary, and his attempts at sketching out a rough map. For a minute he stared at them, mulling over a dull niggle at the back of his mind. Something to do with them, he supposed, was what had woken him up.

Good points Calley. I was thinking maybe some sort of experimentation on the M drug with a "volunteer" test subject. And I can see the purpose of having it not take out all of New York. I did want the area to be larger than a few blocks though, that way there can be things happening outside of it's area as a result of the power outage.

I'm still waiting the results of Locke's exam, so count me tentatively in?

The cards were shuffled by another while Sledge surveyed the others there that night. His target was older, probably close to Charlie's age. Everyone was in roughly the same age range. It was that point in life when you become comfortable in your job, and the world is yours to conquer. Each man in attendance that night probably wouldn’t mind loosing a couple hundred. Maybe a few thousand too. For the first hand Sledge wasn’t the dealer, so it would be hard pressed for him to pull any sort of trickery. Not a problem. He’d been provided some money to win or loose. Coming to the card game had been his idea, but getting the politician to come back with him was a job he had been assigned. This sort of job was a nice change of pace from what he usually was ordered to do for the Sanctuary.

He glanced at his cards as they were dealt to him. On the whole it was a bland hand. Nothing particularly stunning or promising to win anything. He had a pair, but it was low and easily beaten. Sledge tapped the cards together so that he could hold them in one hand as the others studied their own hands. A simple game of five card draw seemed to be the dealer’s choice. Perhaps it was done as a courtesy to the one who was obviously foreign. When you first start learning how to play poker, five card was probably what you were taught. There weren’t too many variations of the rules, and it’s biggest downfall was just a short amount of betting rounds. The game played faster though, and money would be changing hands at a good clip that night. “So Councilman Burke, how does the campaign go?” Sledge asked politely.

Hyatt Plaza was no St. Regis or the Ritz, but it still had the same air of classic elegance to it. The building was very well maintained both outside and in. Lights were dim enough to allow patrons to feel at peace, as though they could simply lie down and rest or enjoy a cup of coffee in a quiet moment. As conversations flowed from the guests, accompanied by the sounds of moving luggage carts and the employees answering phone calls, there was a sort of hush. In a city where noise could easily flood your mind and the hectic pace drained you, the Hyatt was calm. Business meetings and conventions weren’t uncommon, for the space was generous enough for the price.

To Sledge it felt as though he had been shuttled into his Gram’s nursing home. Everything was clean, but there was no smell or taste of the rug shampoo or disinfectant. Mostly just wood polish and freshly laundered linens. Not a single bit of modern furniture was to be spotted, and any chair he passed by on his way to the meeting room looked as though it had enough stuffing for a bed. It just felt old to him. This wasn’t a place to feel trendy. No, the Hyatt was meant to make you look like a proper gentleman or lady without actually having to spend your last penny. He would wager that most of the regular clientele were as stuffy as the embroidered armchairs.

Including politicians. For a man who could not even vote, Sledge followed the politics of the United States closely. As a general rule of thumb he found their statements and agenda’s flawed to say the least. They spoke of ways to improve the life of those in the lower and middle class, but had little or no experience with such a life themselves. Spending a year or two on the dole before trying to run for any position seemed like a fair requirement to the Brit. You can hardly expect someone to have faith in your ability to run a city, a county, or even a country if they could not establish the connection to a basic human lifestyle.

Having a politician in your pocket was an incredibly useful thing though. To do so usually meant having either rather deep pockets or enough dirt to fill a grave. Blackmail, Sledge knew, could be an excellent motivation, provided the consequences were grave enough. Slander meant nothing these days though. It had become S.O.P if you tossed your hat in the ring. Forget trying to elect a vice president, find a good public relations assistant who could spin the dark truths into gleaming beacons of hope. He was hardly in a position to try that to his mark. Technically speaking Sledge would be the one at risk here. Who wouldn’t support a campaigner who caught an illegal immigrating criminal? Even with the deaths of some of the biggest threats, the “War on Terror” still ran strong in America, perhaps more so here in New York than anywhere else.

No, Sledge was going to use one of his favorite techniques. Manipulate the situation so that the mark thinks that their actions are what they want, and not, in fact, your desires pressed upon them. So he rented a suite at the Hyatt for a few days, packed a few of his finer shirts and trousers, and set himself up in a game of cards that the mark had been invited to. By no means was “David Maxwell” the only criminal who would be shuffling the deck that night, but he was positive that he’d be the one to take the pot. Mr. Markus Burke’s loyalties and political sway were the real prizes tonight.