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“Don’t you think it’d be best if we discuss the hazards of your occupation inside, where there are less ears to listen?” Sledge asked, raising an eyebrow at Tses, expecting her to give way for him to enter. Much to his surprise she did not give in to him. He always got what he wanted with these Yank women, one way or another. It might have taken a bit of time with Seyta, but she had opened up to him thanks to his charm and sexy accent. Then again Ladybird didn’t even pick up that he was British the night of the bank job, only that he didn’t talk like a hobo. Ladybird didn’t move to let him in, and he sighed. Enough was enough. Sledge had tried being polite, not entering her home without her permission, and she hadn’t been considerate enough to even let him step past the door. So instead of standing out in the hallway, Sledge let himself into her flat.

“Let’s put it like this, there isn’t a prison in the world that could hold me. You might have those little glowing marbles of yours,” Sledge said, looking around and then settling himself down on her couch. With his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed one foot on top of the other, Sledge seemed to have no problems with making himself at home. There were of course ways that he could be held within a prison, and like Tses, should his hands be restricted in their movement, his powers were less then helpful. “But don’t forget, someone who dinnit even know you could keep them from helping you out.” At this point Sledge leaned forward, as grave as a tombstone. He might have been boasting about his own escape prowess, but he was being authentic in the risk of a jail cell.

“You think that you aren’t going to be caught? You’re dumber than I thought Ladybird.” Insults weren’t going to win her over, but he needed to break her down. “Always, always assume that you’ll be found. Best to minimize the damage before police catch whiff of you. That’s why I wanted you to take the camera out and why you would have done well to keep that mouth of yours shut tight. Banks often have a silent alarm system so iffin there’s a hold up police can be called without alerting the robbers. You wouldn’t want someone who broke in to run off before they can be detained.” Sledge knew the risks involved with taking the breaking and entering job for the Sanctuary, but he did not trust there to be any support to cover him when things went south. Kaitlyn would probably enjoy seeing him wiggle. And as much as Tses’s incompetence as a criminal irked him, Sledge saw the potential in her.

“So, I have come with a little business proposal for you,” Sledge said, picking at the arm rest of her couch, once more taking on the relaxed air. “You and I build up solid alibi’s for this, keep the investigator off our arses, and I’ll cut you in on some of me works. Even my lower end money schemes get more cash flow then the piddly bit you lifted that night.”

“There’s a problem Ladybird,” Sledge said, crossing his hands in front of him. He hadn’t been complacent after the bank job. Not that it had finished once they had left the building. There were always loose ends to tie up, and he needed to be the one to do that. Sledge doubted that his fellow robber had thought to do so. A network of informants had been set up, using the people that society tended to not pay attention to. Little old grannies often catch a good amount of gossip, and they seemed to love a cheeky little monkey like himself. The homeless that he had disguised himself as heard and saw things without people even glancing the other way, and gaining their trust was a simple enough matter. “Someone’s looking into our little business venture.”

His implication was that Ladybird was in trouble and not himself. Of course once the police found out that Tses wasn’t the only one in the bank that night he was going to show up on their radar. If she was caught, Ladybird could point the finger at him, probably saving herself a little trouble and making any sentence given to her that much lighter. It was important that before that could happen that Sledge find her. And while he might be chatting to her as though she was a daft apath, he wasn’t pushing his way into her apartment. “Have you seen the paper lately?” he asked. Yet another resource that Sledge used that got overlooked. News was taken in either by those tablet things he saw people with or through the telly. Printed news was costly and couldn’t be updated as quickly as other methods.

“I expected that there would be some sort of investigation,” Sledge said, examining his thumbnail briefly before looking back up at the Ladybird. If he was going to keep her from talking he needed her to know that he was in charge. That was why he had tracked her down to her apartment rather than finding her out on the street. Interrupting another job of hers was risky. She had been caught by surprise the first time, and he had gotten lucky in grabbing onto her fists. Casually showing up at her apartment meant that at any time he wanted to, he could find her. Time to push that fact a little further “You could use a boost to your home security. Anyone could make their way in here.”

The statement was thrown out there casually, and he gave it a moment to sink in before acting as if he remembered what he had been talking about in the first place. “In the newspaper there was an advertisement. Seems a private investigator is looking to have a few special mutants help him look into crimes like you’ve pulled. Ones that are psychic, can see the past, tha’ sort of thing. You might have taken out the camera, an me the alarm, but neither one of us can rewrite the past.”

"That's the problem with people," Sledge said, in reference to Aura's caged animal comment, "They spend their whole lives already living in a cage. A comfortable cage granted, with cushioned seats and delectable tasties, but a cage none the less. We fool ourselves into thinking that it's not so bad, and keep up the charade long enough that we forget the cage is even there." It was time, it would seem, to talk about his theories of life. Sledge had not been one for intense theological moments, but he had established a dogma of sorts, a general philosophy of life. First rule was that there wasn't enough to go around.

"The ones that break, that you can take for a ride and wring every last penny out of, those are the ones who not only deny that they're in a cage, they've become afraid to leave it. So you do one of two things. Make 'em think that if they don't follow you that they will lose their cage," with his free hand Sledge held out his thumb, then his forefinger, "Or make them promises of a gilded cage that in the end, you don't deliver to them."

He nodded his head in agreement with Aura on the spy issue. Everyone loves a little bit of espionage. Although he had never watched the telly as a kid, Sledge had gone to the movies, and when still in primary school, pretended that he was Bond. The man was suave, drew women to him like a magnet with paperclips, and had at his disposal the most amazing gizmos and gadgets. Who wouldn't want to be him? "I'd prefer the term 'informants'. Tell them that they're spies and you have people runnin' round hard and getting sloppy. Make them think that you're their mate, and they'll drop tidbits of knowledge without even thinking about it."

Spies wasn't the only use for humans. Maybe it was because Sledge had been using people for so long, even before he discovered that he was the carrier of an active x gene. "But there's more than just that. Funds obviously. Human, mutant, anyone is vulnerable to being swindled out of their money, home, business et. all. Alibis are always a good thing to have on 'and."

At least it wasn't because of him that Seyta wanted a knife. Good to know that he wasn't being chatted up only to get stabbed later on. Sledge could understand Seyta's planning security for the future. He might have forgotten her when they were heading off for bagels, but he couldn't shake that realistic, and strange dream. He had to get his flat more security. It wasn't enough to just trust in the building's ties to the Sanctuary. Of course, his flat being ramsacked may have had something to do with him handing over detailed maps of its floor plans. Still would be prudent for him to make plans against what he dreamed of. The crowd's attention was about the only good thing from being in the Pit fights. "Of course. Have to do some security work meself,"

Sledge watched as Seyta climbed through the entrance that he had made for them, once more appreciating her choice in Halloween apparel. Women might not be dressed in the most sensible fashion this night, but when you've been pursuing a bird for so long with little or no success, seeing her dressed such a way was a nice reward. With watching her Sledge couldn't help but to notice her hesitation. "Yeh worried?" he asked, a little shocked by the words he said. He'd only just learned that Seyta walked on his side of the law, and that knowledge, to him, meant not being concerned to head inside the store. Anyone could do a B& E, just as anyone could lift stock from a store. If she really did this sort of thing, why did it make a diference if he was there. "Way I figgure it, should the electrics come on when we're in there, we've got a couple o' minutes ta get out while the systems reboot."


Shopping with Seyta was wildly successful. Carrying not only his own bags, but the lady's as well, proved to be an excellent work out for his arms. To an outside observer, it would look as though Sledge's punches were destructive because of strength. It made sense as well. Nobody ever really thought of the importance of momentum and speed in a punch A car crash was thought of as more disasterous with larger cars, but even a little VW bug can reduce another car to scrap metal if it strikes at a high speed. They were returning to their apartment complex with an excellent haul, and before the knight returned the lady fair to her home, he needed to drop his "purchases" off in his flat.

But all things told, this had been a good evening with Seyta. The usual awkwardness that he couldn't understand, but rather civil on both parts. With the power now out in their block as well, taking the lift had been out of the question, and Sledge paused on the landing. Her apartment was one floor down, he remembered, and he didn't want her walking there alone. There was a menacing feel to this night. If he was a knight, he'd be honor bound to protect her right? "I don't suppose you'd like to stop in me flat for a cuppa? I've got candles."

“Heat it y’self,” Sledge grumbled at his tormentor, “I‘ve frozen meself out there and I‘m ‘aving a cuppa.” He was willing to bet that Kaitlyn wasn’t going to blow the whistle on him for so minor an action. Why risk sending him away? She looked as though she had been on a bender, whatever the child equivalent of that would be. The combination of her pajamas and bed hair made him look at the cold metal around his wrist. It was a later hour than he had anticipated, but Sledge doubted that this was Kaitlyn’s usual bedtime. Warm milk would be soothing, but hot chocolate this late at night was only going to rot her teeth. Sledge wasn’t going to tolerate any lip from a girl who had a curfew. Not when he was drenched to the bone and had ice still melting down the back of his shirt.

As though to prove he wasn’t going to jump at her orders Sledge drank greedily at his tea. Tea had such a familiar and comforting taste to it, and he could feel the heat trickle down his throat, pooling in his gut, and taking the worst of the cold bite out of him. Now it was his turn to give the arrogant smile, and that was an expression that he was well versed in. Oh, Sledge knew that Kaitlyn was telling him what to do, and he knew that he had a bribe for her in his pocket, but this time he wasn’t going to give her anything but grief. She might just be a little kid, but she was turning out to be just as wicked as him. The teacup was spun slowly in his hands as he tried to draw some of the warmth from it into his fingertips. No over exertion of his mutation today, but his hands felt nearly as useless as if he had. Fingerless gloves were excellent at keeping your palms warm, but they did very little for anything past that first knuckle. Cold might have robbed his fingertips from their sensitivity, but he could still move his hands well enough.

The cup of tea was placed down so that he might take his hat off. As usual, the man could not resist the urge to play with it, flipping the hat by the brim over his hand where he gently deposited it near his tea. Having his hair drip in his eyes was both bothering him, and probably was not the most sanitary for his brew. The crown of his head was mostly dry thanks to the fedora, further proof in Sledge’s mind that one should never underestimate the importance of a hat, but with the wet and the wind his mop was tangled almost as bad as Kaitlyn’s. Fingers sorted through the hair, trying to restore some sort of semblance to it’s normal style.

Tea was all well and good, though if he really wanted to warm up sufficiently for the walk home, Sledge was going to need to get some hot nash into him. A sarnie was simple enough to make, but cold cuts do not exactly say “welcome in from the storm”. Toasties were in order. Large thick toasties that a doctor would frown upon. “Anna’m hungry,” he challenged as further proof that he was not going to get out of his seat, where he had just started to feel comfortable and almost human again, just to cater to the whims of a child he had no guardianship or responsibilities to. Iffin she wanted hot cocoa, she would either have to go without the warm milk, or get a saucepan and start it up herself. By twelve years old you should at least know how to safely put the kettle on.

“A knife?” Sledge asked, incredulous. Strange indeed. Not knives, as in flatware, but knife, as in singular. He chuckled at it, brushing aside her seriousness. After all, he had seen her wearing a silken dress with roses on it. That's not the sort of thing that you do when you want an assault weapon. But Sledge could see that she was not joking. “You're serious?” Sledge leaned away from Seyta slightly, giving her a nervous sort of smile, “I know that you are usually mad at me, but I dinnit think that it was anything worth murdering.”

He was only half joking. She was acting all friendly and flirtatious now, but he had clear, fuzzy memories of her being angry at him, though the reasons for such behavior never was clear to him. Up until now he had just assumed that she was being a fickle lady. Now he was wondering if maybe she had just been insane. Then again, who can predict the mind of a woman. If ever there was a man who was able to do so, there would have been a book that was published by now, and men wouldn't be struggling anymore.

At the Best Buy store, it was time to get back into the working mode. Rummaging around in his bag for a minute, Sledge extracted an exercise weight. Five pounds to be exact. While he could easily break through the display windows with his powers, his arms weren't invulnerable to cuts, and he didn't want to waste his time plucking out bits of glass, or steming the flow of blood. Besides, having the glass broken by something more conventional, it made it seem as though anyone might have broken in. Said weight was thrown at the window, where, with a little help from mutation enhanced speed, it shattered and fell through. “I believe the saying is ladies first.”

Sledge hadn't opened any of the security boxes yet, though he was reaping the benefits of Ladybird's work. While she was after cash, he didn't care what he took from the boxes. Some of the things he was grabbing he saw no value in. Such items would be left scattered around the general area of the bank, as though the thief had been unable to carry all of their loot. In his pocket he had something else to throw the police off from his trail. The longer that they were chasing their tails, the more he'd be paid for this night's work.

Ladybird wanted to know if there was a specific box that he was looking to open. He nodded his head yes, but held up a hand. She had done enough of the work, and it was time for him to play a part. While his powers could theoretically open up the boxes, that plan had been scrapped by having the girl do the job for him. There was a possibility that someone would notice that all the other boxes had been opened by an explosive force while his target had been smashed in. If he was going to use his mutation he'd have to have it as present as her little mess, or deal with the consequences of someone knowing two parties were involved. Ah well, in for a pinch, in for a pound.

He seized up the wall, studying the area surrounding his target. Seeing enough security boxes still in tact around it, he took two steps back, cracked his knuckles, and punched.

The force of the punch made a rippling affect, the target being not the box he wanted to get into, but one beside it. In the hush of the bank it echoed and made almost as much noise as the Ladybird's little explosives, and had the pleasing side effect of popping open the security box that he needed, in addition to the other boxes that surrounded it. He riffled through them, moving things from one to the other, adding somethings that he had pocketed from the other boxes. Finding the file that he had been sent to retrieve, he extracted it, then set fire to the folder that had held the papers.