Recent Posts

...Well, Chris couldn't really argue with that. He watched as Malakai started to jog out of the alley, giving some final advice directed at Chris. A confused frown started to spread over his face; since the suggestion had been so out of the blue it took him a moment to process it. When he did, his expression changed to horror.
Body glitter.
No way. Most of all, Chris wanted to blend in, and, if that was out of the question, at least try to not stand out so much. Which could be hard enough if you were a mutant with certain aquatic features, but would be near impossible if he also sparkled. He got a brief mental image of himself covered in glitter, and it was an unpleasant picture enough that it sent a shiver down his spine.

The sun had set, and there was enough time for Chris to get back to his van. It might be old, dank and smell strongly of fish, but it was his home and one of the few places he felt secure. After eating dinner he relaxed in the back for a while, contemplating the day's event. He wondered how Malakai's photo shoot was going; he only had a vague idea of what actually went dow during a shoot, except that it seemed hectic.
For a moment he wondered if he shouldn't go, after all. Good clothes would just be wasted on him, and the situation felt very new and alien to him. But he needed a jacket or a coat, and if he ditched Malakai he'd deny the man his good deed.

Unfortunately he was out of gas, so he couldn't drive to the adress Malakai had given him. It wasn't far, though, so he left the car and started to walk towards his destination. Chris didn't own a watch or cellphone, but when he rang the doorbell he estimated that roughly three hours had passed since he'd left Malakai. While he waited for Narissa to open the door he weighed from foot to foot, glancing over his shoulder occasionally. The area seemed rather nice and not very threatening, but he still kept an eye on his surroundings out of old habit.

Chris nodded when Malakai gave his explanation. Religion had never really been a part of his life - he grew up just hearing about it on radio and television, and his grandfather had never talked about his beliefs, or lack thereof, with Chris. But it still put him a bit at ease - it seemed less likely that Malakai's offer would somehow conceal an elaborate trap when he had a reason to be generous, even if that reason was, in his own words, holy points. Not that Chris really thought it was going to be a trap. The man could transport people across town with his mind, if he wanted the thief to end up in a jagged pit adorned with rusty nails there were more direct ways to make it happen.

Then Malakai, who rightly assumed that Chris didn't owe a cellphone, gave him a card. Chris accepted it without a word, memorizing the address before tucking it into his jeans pocket. Ask for Narissa, wait for Malakai, don't steal anything. That last part he hadn't even considered. To steal something when he was about to be given clothes for free would be a totally illogical thing to do... not to mention downright nasty.
"You have my word."

When Malakai asked if he had somewhere to store the clothes he nodded. He kept all of his clothes in a box in the back of his car, and there was plenty of space there.
"Yes, I do. Thank you."
That seemed to be it as far as instructions went, so he should probably get going and let Malakai deliver the garment bag to their original destination. He started to walk towards the exit of the alley before turning back around.
"Is this going to be an inconvenience to you? I don't want to be any trouble.

Chris just nodded when the other said that he couldn't transport himself.  He didn't protest or feel offended when the other called him a lousy thief, because it was true. Since he was a thief who had failed to get away; so yes, he was lousy. He was mildly surprised that the other man actually seemed to be curious about Chris' life - maybe he didn't have so much contact with other mutants. This made Chris relax a bit. 

Before Chris had the opportunity to answer the car's engine started. Chris spun around at the sudden noise, but it just seemed as if the driver had had enough of hanging in an alley with the two of them and had decided to defy the other mutant's stared daggers. The car drove past them, giving them a wide berth, and then rounded the corner and was out of sight. Chris turned his attention back to the man and shrugged.
"I don't do too much," was his answer to the previous query. "I swim and fish and hunt. Goes hand in hand with my mutation, really."

When the man asked for his name, or something else he could call him, he just said "Chris." He'd never had the need to create a code name for himself; he had no secret identity to protect, no family around that could be tracked down. Some of his friends (okay, mostly Saphirus) had tried to come up with a good code name, but nothing stuck... something he was glad for, since most of them had been downright awful. Like The Barracuda, Kid Piranha or Fishboy. Just... no.
"You?" he simply asked to get the stranger's name in exchange. He didn't extend his arm for a handshake, since most people weren't too fond of touching his clammy and slightly fish-smelling hands. Less awkward to just not.

Speaking of awkward... it was hard to miss that the other guy was looking him over. Chris was used to people staring at him, but most tried to at least be discreet about it. It didn't give him the urge to run and hide anymore, but he still wasn't fond of it. So he met the other's eyes unblinkingly, hoping that his own stare would make the other man stop.
"And you, what do you do when you're not hunting down lousy thieves? Do you collect clothes?"

How was it possible that even when he tried to calm the other man down all he succeeded in was to make him even angrier? He'd said he was sorry, he'd tried to explain his reasoning, the items in question was back with their original owner... He was at a total loss about what to say to just get an end to this awful, misjudged situation; an end that preferably wouldn't include himself getting injured or killed. Maybe blindly agreeing would make the man less hostile? Chris nodded empathically at the man's statement.
"Yes, the buttons would certainly be worth more than my belongings. I... I did not realize the value. I just wanted a jacket."

The cold stare the man shot his direction shut him up and stopped his nodding. Instead he started to squirm slightly , and it was a relief when the man turned his attention to the driver for a moment.
When the man mentioned that he hadn't made up his mind about killing him or not, Chris swallowed hard. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and cradled his injured left arm with the right one. He was definitely in over his head.
"And what do you mean I'm a mutant too?"
He was not just in over his head, he was standing in the middle of a minefield. One wrong step could eventually lead to instant destruction. He was pretty sure the other man was a mutant; he'd felt the garment bag disappear from his grip, it hadn't gotten pulled away and he hadn't dropped it. One moment it had been there and in the next it had been back with the original owner. Either the other man was a mutant or Chris had hit his head harder than he thought.

One thing he'd been told over and over again at the mansion had been to never underestimate hostile mutants. There were some really nasty types out there, people who'd turn your insides to mush with a mere thought just because you looked at them wrong. Chris' eyes darted from the other man to the of the alley behind him: his head felt clearer and he had no doubt he'd be able to make a run for it, but the risk that the angered mutant would be able to dissolve him into atoms with a wave of his hands was something he had to take into consideration. Better to try and speak to him, maybe he'd get tired and walk away.
Pressingly aware that the wrong answer could lead to possible integration on the spot, Chris forced himself to meet the other's hard glare... which didn't make it easier to find the right words.
"Well, because... you did the thing. With the... the bag. I could feel it disappear from my hand."
He blinked twice. Perhaps it would be wise to offer the possible mutant a way out in case he didn't feel like admitting his abilities, or if there really was some other explanation to the disappearing bag.
"Of course, I could be wrong," he added hurriedly. "Maybe I misunderstood. I don't mean any harm. Don't want a fight."

The pavement welcomed him with its hard, cold embrace. The impact knocked the air out of him, and he spent a couple of seconds just laying there staring up at the sky while gulping for air and doing a quick damage control. Head not split open? Check. Could he still feel his legs? Check. Something broken? The landing had given him an ugly scrape on his left arm and if the pain on his left side of the torso and hip was anything to go by, he'd have a bruise the size of Canada the next day. That was, of course, if the man didn't kill him on the spot. He seemed clearly upset, even though he'd gotten his clothes back.
Chris tried to apologize, but all he could manage was a weak groan. He rolled over to his stomach so he'd be able to see what the man was doing. For now, he seemed too busy with the contents of the bag to attack.
Chris took a deep breath and tried again.
"I... I am sorry I upset you. I didn't think you'd miss your jacket, since you already have one." Or a shirt, or something like that. Chris wasn't too sure about the terminology. He frowned in a way that clearly communicated what he thought next; why would anyone need more than one jacket?

The man's next question confused him. Who steals clothes? Wasn't the answer really obvious?
"Is that... do you want me to answer or was it a rhetorical question?" he asked hesitantly as he slowly got up on his feet. He leaned his back towards the side of the car for support, shooting wary looks at the man who just seemed to get angrier and angrier. If he would try to attack, the grey mutant wasn't going to take it laying down. Standing up made his head spin, and he realized he needed to gather himself for a moment before he'd be able to bolt. His eyes went over the man, prepared for any sign of trouble.
Then his eyes went back to the garment bag, and widened as he remembered how it had just disappeared right from his grasp. There was one explanation.
"You're a mutant too," he whispered, and then quickly added "Please don't kill me."

He could hear a muffled sound from the inside of the car and quickly turned his head towards the source of the noise. The cab driver had been sitting in the front seat the entire time, Chris had just been so focused on fleeing that he hadn't noticed him. The faint smell of cigarettes was lingering even outside the car, so it wasn't hard to guess why the driver had parked in the alley. The man, who seemed like he desperately wanted to be elsewhere, looked from Chris, to the other mutant, then back to Chris. Then he locked the car from inside.

Chris dared to glance over his shoulder when he heard the man shout after him. The man was chasing him, and he seemed pretty upset. Well, it was understandable. He had just lost his garment, after all. But Chris had hoped he wouldn't be angry enough to follow him; after all, the guy already had a jacket. Why you'd need two at the same time was completely crazy.

Chris was not a swift runner since his legs were more adapted for swimming, and with a pang of dread he realized his follower was gaining on him. The grey mutant tore down a garbage can as he passed it, hopefully the trash on the ground would be enough to stop, or at least distract, his follower. And if it didn't... well, he must have really liked that jacket.

The mutant rounded a corner and suddenly came to a halt. Not far in front of him was a brick wall - this alley was a dead end. A car stood parked in front of the wall, a white transport car with a pizzeria logo on the side. His eyes darted all over the alley as he fervently looked for another way of escape - no, it seemed like the wall was his only choice. He quickly started moving again, aware that the other man was probably right behind him. He took a running leap up on the car's hood, and then stepped up to the car's roof. The garment bag was still in his hand. He put a hand and one elbow on the top of the wall, prepared to heave himself up over it and land on the other side unless the guy managed to get a hold off him first.

The sound of police sirens and screeching tires against pavement was not particularly unfamiliar for the citizens of New York; rather, on the unusual nights where a car chase didn't go down somewhere in the city, it felt like something was missing. Chris had witnessed his fair share of car chases, but he had never participated in one. Before now. As he swerved around a corner in his grandfather's old 96' GMC Savana, he couldn't particularly say that he enjoyed the experience so far.

This had gotten way out of proportion, the young mutant thought as he passed over a speed bump at a speed that made his van lift from the ground for a second or two. He had only parked his car in an alley, locked the doors and gone to sleep at the back of the van. He wasn't in anybody's way. Still, he'd gotten woken in the middle of the night by a banging sound on the side of the van. He'd gotten out of the bathtub he kept half filled with water and crawled into the driver's seat. Outside of the car stood two police officers, who had demanded he winded down the window so they could talk to him. He did just that, and they wanted him to leave the car and go with them. Apparently ha wasn't allowed to park there, and the car hadn't been registered for years. Chris realized what that meant: he'd lose his car, the only thing he owned in this world that was worth something. His home.
 Not tonight. He'd turned on the ignition and started to drive away from the alley; one of the officers had reached in through the window and tried to grab his arm. Chris was pretty sure he'd bitten the officer's hand, it had been pure reflex. He'd hoped he'd be able to get away before they got back to their car, but the van, no matter how many good sides it had, wasn't a very agile vehicle.

Still, he was driving as fast as he could. The police car was quicker, but hopefully they'd decide that it wasn't worth it and give up... wait, was that another police car chasing him? His heart sank. This was not going according to plan. The desperation made him reckless, and in front of him he could see a yellow light on the verge of switching to red. At the speed of at least 60 mph he crossed the lane just after it had switched to red, to the sound of angry honking behind him. He dared to look in the rear mirror as he turned into an seemingly abandoned street, tires shrieking at the rough treatment. It had looked as if the police cars had gotten stopped by the all of traffic. Good, that gave him a chance to...

Suddenly his headlight illuminated a human shape in front of him. The street hadn't been totally abandoned after all. Chris had quick reflexes and instantly pushed down the brake, but his slimy foot just slipped of the pedal. He tried to swerve, but it was too late. With a sickening THUNK! he hit the man in front of the car, who flew at least ten feet and landed on the pavement further up the street. Chris stopped the car, disengaged the gear and just sat there with his hands grasping the wheel, staring at the body on the street in front of him. A shiver went through his body, and not because of the still soaked clothes he was wearing. He felt like he was going to throw up. All he had wanted was to get away, he'd never wanted... this.

Chris opened the car door and started to climb out - but before he'd stepped onto the street he stopped. His eyes squinted as he inspected the man in front of him, who actually seemed to not be dead... and also very familiar.
"Saphirus? Is that you?" he said hesitantly.