Still Mortal - The Windy City

[Corporal Lance]

The young woman had been switching up her pace all day. Slow amble to fast and serious, slow to serious, over and over again. There was a certain method she was trying to go for, and it worked on and off like it always did. She'd lollygag down the streets for lack of a better thing to do. Honestly, what was there to do anyways? Being early wasn't going to help anything. Besides, it wasn't good to waste energy when you didn't know when you'd be getting it back. The reason she would step up her speed was in accordance with working to get that energy back. She'd narrow her eyes and make herself look like she was in a rush only to run into someone who wasn't paying attention. She could pick them out pretty easily, the normally had headphones in. Hope would bump into them and look back, uttering an apology, only to look back at what was in her hand when she stepped away. Was it foolproof? No. She made sure to never do it twice on the same street and if anyone said anything she'd quickly disappear. So far, she had four more phones and almost $60 more than what was in her empty pockets that morning.

Being a mutant made living without a home a breeze for Hope Thomas, and she was easily the richest hobo in Chicago. Need to grab a bite? Find a vending machine, cheat the system and yank something out of it. How about a place to sleep? If the shelters were full, she'd find a bridge and literally sleep under it. Kept her from getting robbed or worse. Well, what about a shower? She was a woman, so she could convince some sucker to let her in pretty easily. If he thought he was getting more than a pat on the back and an 'attaboy', she'd act offended and make him feel like the victim. And if he tried to force himself on her, the fuck was she afraid? If she wanted to she could probably tear down his apartment. That almost happened once, but luckily it didn't. With society today, Hope could easily pass as a hipster or a hippie. The difference between hipster and homeless were only two things: smell and attitude. While she couldn't find a shower all the time, Hope didn't act desperate and would condescend to people. She had decided to quit playing fair when the world told her pretty forcefully that it never was, and she even stopped looking for honest work. In fact, Hope Thomas had a plan. She'd try it out to get a feel for it, but crime really wasn't that bad of a way out. It was a hell of a lot more lucrative than panhandling and more self-respecting, too. Pickpocketing was one thing, but she thought she'd try a little harder tonight. Make enough money to grab a hotel for a week. What did she have to lose? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That's why she was in this mess in the first place. Jail would be a comfort. Shelter from the cold, a bed, free food. She might have been better off than all the other homeless because of her talents, but that's like saying you have the best type of cancer.

So on she ambled. She was done stealing from people at the moment anyway. With all the money she was about to get, she could probably get some new clothes, have some bus money for a while, maybe even enough for night's stay in a 3-star hotel. The wind was biting enough as it was, and she could use a place to get away from it. The streets were getting empty for all the people going to work anyway, so who was there to steal from? Hope could tell you where: McDonald's. This city was so fucked up. So many people were starving in the streets or close to it, and yet that fucking fat-house was always packed. It never mattered whenever you stepped in, there would always be some tub of lard leaking ketchup all over his shirt. It made her sick in more ways than one. Hope scowled in disdain when she saw those golden arches. It wasn't a place of comfort, it was a monument in mockery.
Hehe, people better off than you get to stuff their ugly faces! it would call out in jest. But Hope kept coming back for scraps. She might not have had a shower in four or five days, but she never felt dirtier than when she was in that hellhole. When she opened up the front doors, she went relatively unnoticed. That was pretty easy in Chicago. Nobody really payed you that much attention. Instead of waiting in line, she stepped off to the side as if she were waiting for someone to show up. Technically she was. Hope was doing her best to keep track of the orders. She might have watched for a full 5 minutes, pretending to be bored, before she got her chance. It was some kind of mom with her kid. She didn't look that old, and she ordered her meal like the rest and moved to sit down. When her number was called, Hope's eyes flashed to the mom. Her child was crying, and she didn't hear it. Another call. Still paying attention to her kid. Showtime. Hope pretended to snap out of her trance of people watching and walked up to the counter.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was kind of drifting off," she announced as she picked up the bag. Without delaying anything, she walked as fast as she could without drawing attention out of the restaurant. She looked back. Everything seemed normal. Hope gave a sly smirk, more for herself than anyone else. Especially no one else being there. She walked a good block before settling down at a bench at a bus stop. The wind blockers would give her a reprieve, and she couldn't wait any longer. Exercising extreme restraint, she calmly took out her goods and began to eat. What she really wanted to do was tear into it, the dry biscuit, greasy meat, powdered eggs, and low-grade cheese being the only thing she'd eaten besides M&Ms in 24 hours. But that would make her obvious. Spotlighting yourself like that could get you killed in this city.

[DawnKnight]

Alive. Huge, sprawled, but oh so alive. Life pulsing through every vein, every artery. An organism of such simplicity and such unapproachable complexity, one that has survived through wars and fought on through plague. A giver of life, and a taker. Both the apex and the nadir of evolutions achievements it stands firm against the tests of time and the elements. But this great achievement even now begins to shake, to crumble, as it is undermined from within.

An incomprehensible metaphor? Perhaps. But all too true of what is happening to society now. Are we mutants in fact the problem? We wield the powers of the gods, but society still fears us. Do we then use our powers to help society, or do we lash out in childish petulance? People fear what they do not understand, it is not their fault, it is a natural reaction, how did you feel when you realised you were special?

Violence is not, has never been the answer, it only begets more violence until we stand in the ruins of our own lives, the ashes of our relationships and maybe our very species. I have lived for a very long time, and I have done many things I am not proud of. I have seen humanity tear itself apart and rebuild itself time and again, no matter what has happened we have always found a way. Change is a terrifying thing, but it is inexorable, mutants might be the agents of that change, but we are our own worst enemies.

With the power that we have been granted we could change the world. Rewrite history, end suffering and make war obsolete. What are we reduced to? What do we make of ourselves?

He sighed as he shut down the browser, logging off 'Mutant's Unite' and the PC and finishing his coffee. He sat thoughtfully for a moment, staring at the fading spiral as the machine beeped and returned to the log on screen. The middle aged man stood up, tossing the crumpled cup into a trash can. He shook his head and made his way out of the internet cafe.

He walked out into the weak sunlight of early afternoon, it cast long shadows across the pavement but around here there were no skyscrapers to blot it out entirely. Taking a moment to enjoy the cooling breeze he looked around, seeing one or two passersby, a mutant. It was a knack, something about the way they walked. Once to have such abilities was a point of pride, now most mutants hunched in on themselves, trying to make themselves as unnoticeable as possible, it was a sorry state of affairs.

Even they were not the worst off though. People were tired of hearing it, but the deficit had hit people hard, and some harder than most. All over Chicago the shelters had sprung up, offering food and a roof for the people who were forced otherwise to sleep under the clouds. Despite the efforts of the over worked volunteers the shelters were still rife with infection and illness. They were all too eager to accept the help of an aging doctor who offered his services, god knows they were few and far between and Frank Applebee seemed to have a knack for the work, as though he'd spent more years healing than showed on his face. That's where he was going now, it's where he spent most of his time. Why would anyone look for him there after all?

[Mastermind001]

{Joesph Magnus}

_Fire House_

It didn't take Joesph long to noticed that he was being observed. " Ah! I'm so sorry!" He apologized loudly as he almost forgot he had a guest at his base of operations. Inside his room as Winters would notice that he had a bed with dark blue blankets and pillows with a metal frame, silver. A table in the center of the room that had a lego sized version of Chicago with lego people placed in various areas, another bookcase that instead of books had various electronics and memory sticks scattered on the board, which were shut off. And finally a closet that had various outfits, mostly causal and business causal clothing all hanging up with an iron and an ironing board. The bed post, had a picture of a family, a mom, a father, a small female child, and Joesph.

"Did I wake you up with my ramblings?" He questioned immediately as he wanted to gauge what exactly she learned or how she would react. " If I did, I'm quite sorry. I need something like that to start the day." He mentioned and then quickly went on to explain why he does this. " You know a rally, a battle speech, that sound of thing to psych me out." Joesph lectured as he told her various things. " After all, I have a very busy day. Apparently, this company that hired me yesterday needs me to come in today. " He added as he started to pace around the room. " Probably need some coffee and lunch or bunch. My god, I need to think quicker." He muttered as he becoming quite frantic.

[Firebreather]

Fox glanced at the clock above the chalkboard, impatently tapping his foot, waiting for class to get out.

Lunch was always his favorite period, usually being alone behind the campus didnt excite him; but since he was new, it would be best to avoid conversation in general.

"Mr. Markson.." Mrs. Dreakford snared, glancing at him once then quickly rolling her eyes to the board, "Since you think its 'appropriate' to doze off in class, you can answer the next exam question.."

Her pale, veiny hands reached for the sallow white chalk and began to draw with little precision on the felty green board. Little by little a sloppy sketch of a frog was materialised, it almost looked like a scrunched up bird.

"Alright.. Now, name one thing about frogs this that is proven to be true." She clicked her heels together trying to remove a blemish apon them.

"Uhm..." Fox glanced around the room, tapping his fingernails on the grafittied desk "They are..." he wanted to say cold-blooded but the words wouldnt come out

"Well? Speak! Produce words Markson..." she snapped leaning against the board, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger.

RRRRINNNNNNG!!!

The bell sounded its screeching alarm signifying the end of the period. This gave the phrase "Saved by the bell" a new meaning, he nonchalantly excused himself from the room. Freedom! This hell of a school day was finally coming to an end.
He walked down a few steps to find himself thrusted by thick meaty fingers onto the floor.

[Goldmarble]

There was a buzz on the MU forums still. The repercussions of the fight in the middle of downtown Chicago had left many, rather stunned. In the thread with the most replies, now reaching page forty-seven, there was a minor argument being relayed between members. Some were defending the mysterious mutant's defensive fighting, and his methods to minimize harm to the attackers, citing it as an example to be followed. Some countered that the mutant was using too much force to defend himself with, saying he should have avoided breaking the one man's hand. Many voiced disappointment. Disappointment that the mutant hadn't killed the cowards who attacked him. Saying that, from the video, he could have taken all of the attackers down. Another thread was concerned about what the mutant looked like...and some were drawing analogues to a past occurrence from 2006 where some grainy, silent surveillance footage from a camera in a bank recorded the actions three men attempting to rob a bank;

Waiting in line in a hooded sweater much the same as yesterdays mutant, was a man who stayed standing when three men wearing masks ran into the bank, and ordered everyone to lay down. As the video progressed, one of the armed robbers walked up to the figure with a knife in his hand. After a few moments of silent arguing, the robber thrust the knife into the figure's abdomen. The figure doubled over, while twisting. The assailant pivoting over the mystery man's shoulder, landing on his back as the defender rose, the man's arm still gripped, and then a knee shot into the back of the outstretched elbow, reversing the joint. The man on the floor began wreathing in silent agony. The second and third robbers turned to look at the commotion as the figure righted himself, the hood falling back and revealing a dark head that...looked weird. One of the robber's produced a pistol, two flashes from firing, and the mutant staggered, but then started charging them. A third flash, and the gunman was tackled into the counter violently. The third robber ran from the bank. The mutant rose from the caved in teller's counter, and covered his head and face with the hood again before it looked around. It reached to its waist and pulled out the life that was sticking from his abdomen, pocketed it, and left rapidly as well.

Commentators were trying to figure out what this mutant looked like, and if it might have been the same one from the Taunton, Rhode Island, Defeated Bank Heist. No one could seem to come up with a definitive answer, as there seemed to be features that were different between the two. But some who were convinced they were one and the same, blamed the grainy video from 2006 was to blame for these discrepancies.

Ira sighed. He sat in front of the laptop in his small apartment and closed his eyes. This was rapidly becoming a nightmare. Back in the eighties and early nineties it had been easy to get fake identification, and move when something blew up in his face. The internet was non-existant to barely there. News spread at the speed the tapes or discs could be mailed. News took longer to spread, and journalists focused on more important things usually. Now, cameras were everywhere. They were in cellphones, on buildings, in buildings, in people's cars. It was getting to the point where you couldn't go outside without a camera being pointed at you. On top of that, pictures and information spread faster than wildfires with broadband internet connections, wifi phones, laptops, netbooks, cars....everything was connection. Everything that was connected, could share anything and everything almost instantaneously. Ira had forced himself to learn much of this technology, just in order to try to defend himself; he had to learn how to use proxies to hide his internet address after someone hacked into his computer and leaked some of his personal files. He had to learn how to advance his identity forging techniques; gone were the days where you could create a legal, new identity by mail by manipulating the systems. Now, one relied on just the fake identity itself, and frequent movement. It was getting harder and harder as police began checking identity for seemingly everything, and with wireless computers, could check it in depth, instantly. Hell, he had the vague notion that the Government's higher authorities knew exactly who he was, and where he was.

The online entity of OldMan, known mildly for his equalist views and opinions, logged off of MU. He exited the proxy servers, and started browsing craigslist. The old S10 was left in an abandoned lot on the other side of Gary, Indiana right now, while he lived in the basement of the rundown old home on 1567 Tyler St. He found a few options and quickly printed them out. Leaning back in the simple chair, he took stock of the nearly barren apartment; clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed (double mattress, no sheets, just a sleeping bag used as a blanket), makeshift desk made from an old door stolen from one of the derelict buildings with some cinderblocks to support it, and the old chair he found in another home that looked like it had just come from the seventies with its garish, yellow/brown vinyl, and long tubular steel frame, that had rear legs that stuck out about eight inches behind the chair itself. The kitchen was stocked with pots, pans and dishes he'd salvaged from the local salvation army. "62 and living like a runaway kid. Maybe I should just get the hell out of this country. Doubt there's any record of me in Sau Paulo, Santiago or Bogota."

Leaving the home, Ira walked before the old house, a rundown 1920's example of the town's (Gary) Steel Mill booming wealth. If you tried hard enough, you could see the simple, but strong construction used in the building. Behind the peeling paint were decades of stories to be told, of the rise and fall of Gary's fortunes as a town that was built because of the nearby steel mills. The problem was, the house next door on the right was a burnt shell that had been left, decrepit for the better part of a decade itself. The three remaining houses across the road, were obscured behind a barricade of overgrown shrubbery, weeds and trees that would render the decrepit shells unnoticeable come spring and summer. The rest of the street, and much of the surrounding blocks were simply devoid of buildings entirely. The town once housed over 180,000 men and women, it now housed just 80,000, even after annexing another suburb. Gary was a rundown ghetto with high violent and non-violent crime rates. One of the worst in the Chicago metropolitan area, and Ira walked to the Forest Green Celica, a splash of muted colour in the gray and whites of winter.

He climbed into the old liftback, and slammed the thin door closed behind him. He stomped on the accelerator, priming the engine with an extra shot of gas before turning the key. The engine coughed and revved into life, before settling down to a smooth, whispering idle. A minor squeak as he pushed in the clutch, he shifted into first and pulled away from the curb, the snow and ice crunching beneath the all season tires. Ira let out a sigh as he drove through Gary, the melancholy atmosphere of the town seemed pervasive, and fitting for someone like himself. It was comfortable here in this rundown, derelict, and forgotten town of shadows and ruined dreams...and part of Ira hated that complacency. He headed out to Chicago, following the map he had printed out to the first vehicle on his list of possible replacements for the S10.

[Base Four]

"Ahh, um, no."

Gabrielle uttered the only, extremely senseless and unorganized, response that she could think of after realizing that self-morale-boost speech was probably not supposed to be overheard.

"Sorry for inturrupting your talking to yourself...and, um...oh wow! Did you build this?"

She went on with an apology only to be interrupted by herself as she noticed the miniature lego city that was put on display on a desk nearby. She gleefully walked over the the desk, taking a closer look at the miniaturized city. The streets, buildings...everything was built in such precise scale that she could recognize the street scenes she saw every day in the pile of bricks and blocks. The university, the park, the fast food shops, the coffee shop she worked at...even this firehouse, and the raw of identical fake-marble buildings nearby where she used to live in.

"This is totally amazing. How long did it take to do all this?" She asked enthusiastically, standing straight and facing Joseph again, who was muttering some stuff about coffee, meals and him needing to think quicker.

"Eh. Sorry. Wouldn't want to make you late for work then..." she said, deciding that all that interest and questions she could save for later. Although, speaking of breakfast...Life. Kill it. Eat. That was what the biomass always whispers in her mind when she was hungry and there's anything alive around. That's probably the only part she disliked about not being human anymore-that constant temptation to kill whatever life form she could sense-in this case, Joseph. She has learnt to hold back, however, so she did not pose that much of a threat to most people; but she was this a bit hungry at that moment.

"Alright. I should be able to get my own..." she started, and then remembered that Joseph is supposed to have her belongings stored somewhere. She also just noticed that she was still wearing the same suit of clothes she wore yesterday-the shirt and trousers, the one with those blots of red on it. Egh.

"...I think you have my wallet?" She said, looking at the man who was perhaps in a hurry to go to work. "And...mind if you borrow me some clothes to change into?"

[Mastermind001]

{Joesph Magnus}

_Fire House_

Oh shit! Oh shit! Calm down, Calm down, Joesph, geez, this is why you need to always remember the little details... Joesph thought as he attempted to calm himself down. Being frantic and all crazy like, wouldn't help him and he knew better or should know better. He stopped in mid-pace and smiled at his guest, Miss Winters, his composure returned and his wits sharp. " Its alright, just many things are happening all at once, Miss Winters." Joesph said " Beyond my control, but I wouldn't worry. It will be a matter of time when the pieces go to where I want them to be or when they realize I'm a player."

She soon entered the room, something catching her eye like a child with a new toy. She loomed over the Lego city, Chicago that was in the center of the room. Joesph walked behind her and looked down at the city made with lego bricks. " Not long, but I wasn't the one who created it." Joesph answered her question. He reached for a lego version of himself in the city, wearing a maroon jacket and blue pants, slicked back hair, and connected that lego self on top of the roof of the fire house. " A gift from a speedster, I helped in the past." He went on to explain. " That person understood something about myself. Knew I needed something."

"Hmm, work? Oh yes, I have plenty time. I can travel at the speed of light thanks to the internet. No need to worry of such a thing. " He mentioned as he then picked up a few crimson red bricks, shape of a square, and connected them to different places within the city. When she questioned about her stuff, the thing he turned into pure data. He turned to her and mentioned " Ah! I made them materialize in the next room, next to this one. Has a bed much like mine."

"Figured a room, would be much better than what you had last night." Joesph said as he placed his hands into his coat's pockets. " Regardless, everything you own is there and forty dollars on the bed." He mentioned as he then head over to the door. "I'm heading out for bunch and pay a visit to my school, see you later." He said with a smile as he started to disappear piece by piece into blue little squares.

[Frettzo]

Sigh.

That was the only sound heard inside the petty apartment of Katherine Dubois for several minutes. She had just been lended this apartment in Chicago today from a local crimelord. it had taken her almost a day full of flights and airports to get here, to the USA. She had been last stationed in South America, working and living there for a few months. Now, though, after her last job was finished, she was contacted by this specific person who needed her to take care of a few varied jobs. The man had been thoughtful enough to have a place ready for her, and even though she knew that meant she was being watched constantly, she quite simply didn't have the time or will to look for a perfect apartment in Chicago.

At the moment, she was sitting on the floor against a wall with her legs crossed and with Kha besides her, like always, she had Kha wrapped around in a hug and was petting his head. Jha right now, though, was off in the kitchen doing stuff. Her dogs were the most valuable thing in her life right now, they were like her family, and even though they couldn't speak english or spanish, she was able to communicate with them, maybe in a very primitive way involving her behaviour and emotions, but she was able to.

After an hour of silent comfort, Katherine stood up, smiling at Kha as he stood up as well, looking up at her with his usual neutral expression she interpreted as a happy one.

Walking into the bedroom, she grabbed a big suitcase she had brought with her from South America and put it on top of the bed, then opened it, revealing a Glock 17 handgun, the standard of the police forces in many countries. She quickly grabbed it and loaded it with a magazine, then put it on the bed, safety on. "15 Minutes. 15 Minutes and my employers will pass by to take me to the location of the job. Time to be quick, Ki." She said to herself neutrally as she lifted the tray of the suitcase holding the ammo and pulled a full bodysuit out of the suitcase, it was black with yellow and violet highlights scattered around in an organized fashion.

5 Minutes later she was in it, stretching out before sighing as she stood straight, pulling on the mask as she let her hair fall onto her back through a few slits on the back of her head. She made sure to move her tail from side to side to check if it was comfortable, then smiled to herself in satisfaction.

Now, due to the speed at which she had to pack for the trip from SA to Chicago, she wasn't able to bring as many weapons as she'd have liked, so she only had the handgun, which she had holstered to her right thigh, and a combat knife that was strapped to the left side of her waist.

Looking herself over in a nearby mirror, she shrugged, and grinned sweetly as Kha trotted into the room carrying his food tray. "Kha! You already ate! You know someday I'm not going to be able to take you out for excersise as often and you'll get fat, right?" She said with amusement marking her voice, before giving in to Kha's pleading look and wagging tail. "Alright, alright. Just share it with Jha, yes? You know he gets jealous." She whispered as she kissed Kha's forehead and walked into the kitchen, Kha in tow as she grabbed a big bag of dog food and poured a decent amount of it on Kha's tray.

"There." She said with a small grunt as she carried the bag over to the cabinet she had pulled it out from. Kha instantly munched away on his food, and with a amused chuckle, Katherine made her way out of the apartment after making sure she had her usual five magazines of ammunition and all weapons with her, throwing on a long coat with a hood to hide herself as she climbed into the black, suspicious looking can in front of the building, arming herself with her bussiness mode personality.

"What is my first objective, sir?" She asked a mysterious man at the wheel before they drived away.

- 20 Minutes later, 1 block away from Joesph's Firehouse -

For the most part, the trip had been silent, the silence only being broken by her employers for a few minutes as they explained her objectives to Katherine. Apparently she was to meet up with a group of thugs to take charge of a strike on an enemy gang's hacker safehouse. Apparently these hackers had been messing with his employer's networks for a few weeks now, and they had enough of it. After a minute, she exited the car, instantly noticing the rest of the thugs... Ugh... They looked really inexperienced and too poor for her taste in both men and subordinates, but she was not in a position to be picky right now, as she was technically a subordinate right now.

After a few minutes of planning, organizing and teching a few of the thugs how to properly shoot a gun, they approached the house, and using her senses, Katherine could hear about 7 persons, 5 males and 2 females. They were laughing, apparently playing sme kind of game together. She raised her nose into the air, sniffing the air. Nachos and cheese.

Making a few signals to the 6 thugs with her, she waited three seconds, before one of the thugs kicked down the door and rushed inside, kicking down a few more doors before gunfire started to be heard. They had to be fast here, and leave no survivors, as her employers had been clear the they did not know if their rivals had mutants on their side. After the rest of the thugs bursted in, Katherine didn't waste another second and peeked into the room. 3 Of the hackers were down, while one of her thugs were wounded. She got back into cover again and took a deep breath, steadying her aim before leaning into the room, taking a few accurate shots every now and then, ignoring the possibility that the hackers might have been connected to a network by the time they assaulted the place.

[Base Four]

The room looked pretty much like the one she had prior to this series of events: same bookcases, same bed, same desklamp...even the laptop and her instruments are there. The only difference between this room at Joseph's firehouse and the one back at home was that it was much bigger-or at least seemed to be since her room has never been as organized as what was in front of her now.

"Whoa, thanks." Gabrielle muttered to herself, since Joseph has already left for school. Alright then.

She grunted a bit as she tore the stained shirt off, strings of sticky red fluid trailing off it. She dragged that fluid off the fabric and allowed it to flow back onto her hand and into her system, mending the torn, dripping gorey texture on her arms and torso back into a natural human skin. That shirt would have to go to the trash, though, the dried blots on it would pretty much be impossible to wash off. She threw on some clothes she retrieved from the re-materialized closet, and a jacket just because it's probably still raining or snowing outside.

Joseph could have kept his money, though. She scooped up the 40 dollars and tossed them into a lidded metal box she kept all her miscallaneous stuff in (which took a few seconds to locate where Joseph has put it), just so she'll know where it is when she'll return the money when Joseph comes back. As for breakfast...she's pretty sure there's still some cash in her wallet if she could find it. Even if she couldn't...there would most likely be some pigeons or street cats outside somewhere. Since Joseph left and she's possibly the only person in the house now, being hugry is much more tolerable when she doesn't have to resist the urge to kill.

Speaking of Joseph. How this man does all this was beyond her comprehension: magically erasing objects from existence or making them reappear at different locations, travelling 'at nearly the speed of light', and everything. She was actually starting to appreciate this person who didn't turn out exactly as simple she thought the good guy philanthropist would. He seemed to have a plan or sorts, knew what he was doing at any given time, and at least had a pretty wide web of relations. Joseph was also, to a certain degree, confusing. "When the pieces go where I want them to be" seem like words from a supervillain, but then he offered to help a random man in a coffee shop, asking for no reward for it whatsoever. And then there's the fact that he did not even hesitate in inviting her into his 'base of operations' without full knowledge of who or what she was.

Gabrielle decided that Joseph would either be some sort of genius with plans and sources of data beyond the limits of her imagination, or just be outright dumb. She's not sure which case would be better...but for now, she decided she should perhaps just be glad that she had somewhere to stay.

She plugged in her bass guitar and began to pluck random strings.

* * * * *

The streets of the Windy City are still partly coated in white after last night's snowfall. Some households or hard-working street cleaners have cleared part of the streets and driveways, but the slushy blots of greyish white still remain on most parts of the sidewalks. And if you look closely at those sidewalks, between the shadows of the few figures that are hurriedly moving towards wherever they are headed, you'll find another figure, another blot of white that takes the shape of a person, pacing at a ridiculously slow speed compared to everyone else. She was dressed in flat-colour: white trousers, grey shirt, and a jacket that is a shade somewhere between the two. The colour of her hair and skin-the half of her face that's not buried under her scarf-matches that of her outfit, with only the thick black circles lining the shape of her eyes, resulting in the peculiar inpression of a snowman, only much slimmer, slowly gliding along the pavement.

Cathy Johnson continued her slow, gliding steps until she arrived at the gates of the University. She raised her head to look at the clock embedded into a wall nearby, exposing more of her face briefly before she tucked it back under the protection of the scarf that was apparently too large. She was most definitely late for class. She sighed and walked towards the classroom, still at the pace of a crippled tortoise. Because why hurry if you're already not going to make it on time anyway?

[Mastermind001]

{Joesph}

_Gunfire on Zeiger Street_

A regular citizen's cell phone started to buzz with electric cyan blocks shooting right out of it. Each piece that flew formed a piece of Joesph, who was walking down the sidewalk in deep thought. Miss Winter, she's a blob of red ooze, has an aversion to water, and definitely not a registered mutant. Impressive that she has stayed hidden for this long...Joesph thought as he pondered about his new found room mate. Does she even eat? Will she use the forty? Break into the locked drawer? Kill me? And who else knows about her? So much to think about yet so little time..He thought with a big grin on his face as he very curious. She could be a killer, she could be troubled, she could be anything, and yet Joesph still helped her. Confusing, yes, but he knew that about himself.

Whatever happens, he'll find a way and that is all Joesph needs to know. A block away from his home gun shots were heard and caught Joesph's attention. He ducked behind a trash can and took out his i phone. This was a surburb of regular houses, old folks, people with families, and some singles that kept their lawns maintained in the summer time and their sidewalks clear for the winter time. Its strange for there to be any gunfire in a sleepy area like this in Chicago. " What the hell?" He complained as he selected an object for his photo gallery. A golden metallic helmet popped into existence in his right hand and he quickly placed it on to conceal his identity.

Joesph reached into his cellphone and took out words like "Flash" and "Blare" from his screen. Releasing them into this world, the words expanded into white and black blobs that floated in the air. He then texted a few messages sending them to various places as those blobs started to form humanoid shapes. They had blank faces with words written across their faces, dressed in what looks like black suits with red ties wrapped around neatly against their necks. Joesph pointed at the one with Blare on its face and then pointed right and the one with Flash on its face, he pointed left to surround the house with gun fire.

Inside the home that was being invaded with armed thugs, all the cellphones started to ring. With ringtones, buzzes, what not all loud and continuous as Joesph attempted to contact them. Why does this has to happen a block away from my home...He thought as he waited for someone to answer.