The man stumbles backward as he is bumped into as the other guy apologizes he holds out a hand. "Eescool man. You new here? Names Jeff, I live in 207."

"Yeah, I tend to move from place to place pretty frequently," Lex said, "Name's Alexander, but everybody calls me Lex.  Sorry for running into you... I wasn't even in a rush to get anywhere.  I really gotta pay more attention to what I'm doing.  Did you feel that tremor just now?"

"Don worry bout it man. Tremor? Nah I didn't feel anything. NOt headed anywhere? You don't got a job yet? I've got some things I could use some help with if you need some extra cash."

Hunter had dropped his motorcycle off in a nearby parking lot and had taken his mask off, using a trenchcoat to cover his gear. USing a key for the previously rented apartment, for situations just like this, he went into the scarcely furnished apartment, fell on the bed and drifted off almost immediately.

Geronimo Jones had a pretty nice pad, considering it was in the Sutra Apartments Building.  While the exterior left much to be desired, Jones had transformed his space into something straight out of a design magazine.  Minimal, with clean lines and a subdued palette, Geronimo's flat was a study in modernity and composition.

Being in one of the top floor units, Jones had taken to calling his apartment the Penthouse as a joke.  When the building codes were changed, Jones had the good fortune to have the only unit with sole access to the rooftop.  Geronimo could have taken this to have his own private deck, and he constantly spoke with his academic colleagues of having a party on the roof.

Instead, Geronimo had only used the deck as a launching point for his activities as Zero.  Unhindered, he could come and go as he pleased without witnesses.

Jones was almost asleep when he heard the roar of a motorcycle far down below.  He wondered why the sound struck him in his reverie, but then let the question die as he drifted into the black.

Hunter awoke with a grunt feeling around the entable for the cheap alarjm clock he kepot here. Finding hit he brought it to his face. 11 am, he'd been asleep for 12 hours? He hadn't slept that much since he was in high school. Sitting up he glanced around at his surroundings. Still in the apartment seems secure. Getting out of bed he dressed in black pants and a polo before heading to the bathroom. Grabbing hthe things he kept in the medicine cabinet Hunter went over his objectives. He needed to fin out who set him up and why, for that he'd need money, to get inot his emergency funds, then he' needed to track them down and eliminate them, he'd need weapons all he had was a pistol with limited ammo and a combat knife as well as his spare outfit, adn the things Hotwire had installed on his motorcycle. He also needed money for that but first he needed information and to get it he needed to access his files. It'd be risky, hotwire could find him, but it was a risk he had to take. Returning to the things he had in his medicine cabinet he died his hair black and put in brown contact lenses before adding a fake scar on his left cheek. Differnet haircolor different eye color, and a single distracting feature, a simple but effective disguise. He then headed out to his destination.

>>TO French memories>>

In the basement of Sutra apartments was a small group of people of varying ages but most in their mid to late teens, all sprawled around the sparsely furnished basement. Among them was Clarissa Clemmons who was currently in the corner her hands clutching her head. " Stay away...

In the basement of Sutra apartments was a small group of people of varying ages but most in their mid to late teens, all sprawled around the sparsely furnished basement. Among them was Clarissa Clemmons who was currently in the corner her hands clutching her head. " Stay away...

Ozzy and Mirage appeared on top of the Sutra Apartment building, Painter's armor flowing back into the sleeves of Ozzy's coat. Ozzy smiled at Mirage and said, "Well, I was hoping to use a bit more finesse on this, actually. Kicking in doors is fun and all, but paying to fix them can get expensive. Fortunately, I've got... alternative methods."

While the door didn't have a handle on it, Ozzy put his hand on the door, a bit of paint flowing around and between the door and the door frame. Moments later, there was a soft click, and Ozzy pulled the door open, using a paint appendage to manipulate the handle and pull it open. Ozzy held the door for Mirage, saying, "Ladies first," and giving a little bow.

--> From the Penitentiary

Mirage gave Ozzy a looking over when his superhero armor had vanished.  The long skirt of her dress shortened into a denim mini-skirt while the top of her dress changed into a sleeveless top with a modest neckline.  Her hat disappeared as Mirage shook her hair out.

"There.  How do I look?  Will this let me blend in?" She said with a smile.  She gave the slightest curtsey as she walked passed Ozzy and through the door.  "Thank you kind sir.  Which floor is it that we're going to?"

Ozzy shrugged. "Yeah, but won't you get cold, or at least wouldn't you have been? I mean, I've seen girls wearing less in the cold in this neighborhood, but let's just say that you don't wanna be looking like that, you know what I mean? Err, not that I'm implying that you look like one of those girls or anything. I'm just thinking you'd be a little cold."

He followed Mirage into the building, letting the door shut behind them.

"No problem. Anyway, we're headed for the fourth floor. That's where my uncle stays, and we'll need his mailbox key to grab the compass. He doesn't know about the whole Painter thing, though, so that's partly why costumes are a no-no."

"Hmm?  Really?" Mirage paused on the stairs and looked at her clothing.  "Cold is not a problem for me, but I certainly don't want to be known as one of 'those' girls."

Her skirt lengthened into a pair of jeans and a small jacket covered over her shirt.  "That should be better." she said and slipped an arm through Ozzy's.  "Tell me about your Uncle.  Does he have abilities like you?"

"Much better. You look good, and you look like you're warm enough, too," he replied, having stopped to wait for Mirage to finish her transformation. When she took his arm, he started walking, keeping pace with her.

"Yes and no. Yes, he's a wizard like me, but no, his abilities aren't like mine. While the magic user 'gene' can be passed down through families, its effects can be varied. My uncle is an enchanter. He sort of sings his magic, but... well, according to Grandpa, he lacks talent in the magical sense. He's good at giving people mental 'nudges', but other than that, there's not much he can do. He's a good guy, though. Just kind of rough around the edges. But, he helped me get the hang of my powers when I was younger, and taught me the basics of magic," he replied.

"My turn to ask a question, I believe. Namely, what should I call you?"

"Hmm.  I see.  So there are varying degrees of magical ability." Mirage mused as they walked.

"You can call me whatever you want, but others just call me M when I'm out of the dress.  Speaking of which, you seem really concerned about my body temperature.  Are you sure that you weren't just saying that but really thinking about something else?  Are you the type of man who is easily distracted by a pair of long legs in a short skirt?" she teased lightly.

Ozzy chuckled, "Oh, definitely. I'm a leg man, and I wouldn't have been able to keep my story straight with you in that skirt. Seriously, though, people probably would have asked questions, or at least stared. After all, it was snowing outside today."

As they came down the last flight of stairs before their destination, Ozzy gently slid his arm free, and stepped forward to get the hallway door.

"Here we are, fourth floor. Hardware, home goods, and mailbox keys. After you, ma'am," he said with a joking smile on his face.

Mirage stepped through the doorway and into the hallway beyond, giving a light chuckle as she did so.  "It's good that you told me that.  I wouldn't want to distract you from the task at hand." She said, her tone light though her eyes scanned the hallway for any trouble.

"Maybe changing was a good idea.  This building is kind of rundown.  It looks safe enough, the building notwithstanding."

"This is the seedy side of town. While I'm sure you can take care of yourself, it's still not good to give people the wrong idea, yeah?" he said.

"This place isn't too horrible, though. I spent every other night here from the time I was six. It was kinda weird, actually. One night, I'm here, the next I was in one of the nicer apartments at Derring Condominiums. It provided an interesting contrast, to say the least."

As they drew nearer to his uncle's door, an electric guitar chord pierced the thin walls, though it was still somewhat muted in the hall. When they got closer, Ozzy knocked on the door, calling, "Yo, Unc'! It's me! I brought a friend, so make sure you're decent!"

The guitar stopped, feeding back a bit as it was forced to quit playing. A couple of seconds later, and there were clicking and sliding noises, followed by the door opening to reveal a man in his mid-thirties with long black hair and green eyes. He wore a pair of ratty jeans and an old white T-shirt, and if the state of his hair had anything to say, he'd just woken up.

"Heeyy, Ozzy! What's up, my man? Who's your friend, huh? Come in, come in! I was just getting some practice in, but no worries. Got a gig tonight, man, gotta get some extra practice in, you know? Anywho, what can I do for you, bro?"

"Hey, Unc'. This is M. M, this is my uncle Dave. Unc', I just need your mailbox key. Grandpa asked me to do some stuff, and I figured I'd see how you were doing while I was over here, and the guy at the front desk said you hadn't gotten your mail yet." replied Ozzy, smiling.

"Oh, thanks, dude! Yeah, I just got up, you know how I am. Gimme a sec, lemme go get it. C'mon in for a bit, take a load off. Nice to meet you, M, and just call me Dave, 'kay?"

With that, Ozzy's uncle walked into one of the other rooms in the small apartment, leaving the door open. Ozzy poked his head in first, then pushed the door farther open, holding it for Mirage.

"Looks safe enough. After you, M."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:45, Tue 18 May 2010.

"Looks safe enough?  Are you expecting trouble?" Mirage asked as she stepped into the room.  Her own eyes swept the room, taking in what she could of the situation and, in spite of her words to Ozzy, was looking for potential trouble as well.

"Do you play in a band, Dave, or solo?" She called out, taking a look around the apartment.  "Maybe we should go and hear you play."

"Not trouble so much as a mess. Dave's a good guy, but his pad tends to be a bit messy. I try to clean when I'm over here, but it's been a while. Still, you can never be too careful. With some of the parties he has here, it can be pretty crazy." replied Ozzy softly.

"Oh, I do both, but it's a band gig tonight, down at McHaggis'. It's a bit rough, but they always seem to enjoy my music. The owner asks my band there a lot, since there's never a fight when we're there. I dunno why, but he seems to think we're some kinda good luck charm. I figure it's just the good music puttin' people in a good mood, you know? Anyway, we're called Nostalgia, the Mid Life Crisis project. Harry, the drummer, suggested it. I think his kid's garage band has a long name like that. I dunno, I just sing and play rhythm guitar. It'd be cool if you came, though." said Dave from the other room, accompanied by the sounds of searching.

"I've seen worse.  Caused a bit worse that this myself, so you don't have to go worrying about me." Mirage replied with a mischievious smile.  "Wild parties, hmm?  I may have to come back here and crash one."

She turned her head in the direction that 'Dave' had gone, raising her voice so that he could hear her.  "I know McHaggis'.  I don't remember hearing about your band, but I'll keep an eye out for it.  We might stop by later tonight and listen in.  So you're Ozzy's Uncle, or is that some honorific?"

"Really? Huh. Weird. Anyway, nah, I'm actually Ozzy's uncle. I'm the black sheep of the family, though, so they don't really like to talk about me much. Gina, Ozzy's mom, is okay with me, but Dad and my older brother aren't too pleased with me. Meh, whatever."

Ozzy smirked, "I seem to be inheriting 'black sheep' status, though. Eh, it's the price we pay for our freedom from the family business."

Dave walked out of the back room, tossing Ozzy a small key.

"Yeah, really. And, honestly, could you see me as a lawyer? I mean, c'mon," he said, grinning.

"Thanks, Unc'. Arright, I'mma go down and grab the mail. You comin', M?" asked Ozzy.

Mirage gave a soft laugh as Dave reappeared.  It was the polite thing to do.  "No, I don't suppose that I could see you as a Lawyer.  Why would you want to wear a stuffy suit and tie anyway?"

She gave a small wave goodbye to Dave and followed Ozzy out the door.  "So do you have any other interesting family members that I should meet?" she asked in an amused tone.

"Exactly! See, why can't they see that? See ya in a minute!" replied Dave, waving them both goodbye.

Ozzy chuckled as they left Dave's apartment. "I dunno if Grandpa counts as interesting. He's stuffy, old fashioned, and very set in his ways. Him and Dad pushed me towards the family business, just like they did uncle Dave, with much the same results. Of course, it's not like they didn't get through to me at all. I don't wanna spend my life behind a desk, but I do try to make my contributions to the cause of justice."

"By family business, are you referring to practicing Law or organized crime?" Mirage said with a smirk as they walked down the hallway.  "There's nothing wrong with sitting behind a desk and doing a goods day work.  We need lawyers to make sure that the baddies we beat up get put away for a long time.  But it's not for everyone and you have to do what makes you happy.  I assume that you are the artistic sort?"

"That would be practicing law, and I know there's nothing wrong with it, but like you said, I can't stand it. But it's the family business because, well... I'm a Gysbourne. You know, of that big law firm, Gysbourne and Farris? My grandfather would be the Gysbourne of that combination, and Dad stands to inherit the firm when it's time.

And, yeah, I'm more of an artist, like my uncle. I'm a painter, though, not a musician. My medium of choice is, well... the urban landscape. There's just nothing better to me than the feel of rollerblades on my feet, a spraycan in my hand, and headphones on my ears. I try to get permission when I can, but sometimes...  well, let's just say that I do a little unsung touching up when the urge strikes. You oughta ask Lucas to let you see what I put on his dojo sometime. I hope to do it professionally, or maybe do some pro skating, but if not, I dunno." replied Ozzy, shrugging. He didn't so much brag about who his family was as sound like it was something he didn't like talking about.