Matthew was awakened by the buzzing of his cell phone.  Through bleary eyes he saw through the 62nd floor window of his penthouse, that the sun had barely cleared the horizon, as his phone buzzed a second time.  The sun's rosy glow colored the surface of Stark Lake.  The phone buzzed a third time, as he found himself in a tangle of sheets and limbs.  He heard the soft breathing of Nikita on his right... or was that Kristen?  The fourth buzz of his phone caused Jessica on his left to stir... no, her name is Kelly.  On his night stand he could see the the name of the caller, Agent O'Brien, as it buzzed a fifth time.

"Uggg.." Matt grumbled, picking up the phone and trudging over to the bathroom. It continued to buzz a few more times as he shut the door and took a seat on the closed toilet.

"And a good Saturday morning to you Agent O'Brien." he answered, a snarky tone to his voice. "And here I thought that the government was off on the weekends like everyone else." He kept his voice down so as not to be heard by the women in the bed outside.

"Agent Dimas, the SCPD reported a theft at the New Port Docks.  There were casualties and they're thinking it was MAKO behind it," O'Brien stated in his customary formal tone.  But, try as he might, Matt could tell that he got under his superior's skin easily this morning.  O'Brien's voice was a little higher pitched than it normally was, which always indicated he was pissed. O'Brien loudly cleared his throat.  "I have Skarka in route already.  I need you there to assist him in the investigation."

A quick calculation told him that from his place, which overlooked Jespersen Cove, to the New Port Docks in Geartown, would take no less than an hour and a half to get there.

"Well, it's just your luck that I'm up and was about to go for a morning run." Matt chided O'Brien. "A little superheroing sounds a lot better than a jog to get the blood flowing. I'll suit up and meet Skarka there. Roger, over and out."

Matt smirked as he thumbed the phone off. O'Brien wasn't a bad person, but his constant insistence that everything be done according to some official protocol was annoying.

He woke the sleeping beauties, ushering them out with compliments of an enjoyable evening and handing them each small roses that he folded out of tissue paper and turned to silver.

Finally alone, he suited up in one of his Alloy costumes; a specially designed running suit that, when turned to metal, wouldn't hinder his vision or movement. After checking himself in the mirror, he headed out to Geartown, hoping that the casualties that O'Brien mentioned were other criminals and not innocent victims.

Alloy sped down 41, making his way towards Geartown.  Traffic was a little lighter than he expected, but then again it was Saturday morning and Alloy hadn't witnessed many mornings lately.  Especially those of the Saturday kind.  41 ran south down the shore of Stark Lake, with the skyscrapers of the city creating a wall to the west.  Sailboats dotted the lake and just on the horizon, he could make out a container ship heading to Geartown itself.

His phone rang again.  This time it was a number he didn't recognize.

Matt answered the phone, "Jim's Meat Packing, you kill 'em we chill 'em. How can we help you?" He waited to hear the unknown caller's response.

On the other end of the phone Matt hears the voice of a man whose use of the English language is very formal and precise.  English certainly isn't his first language.  "I'm so sorry, I'm trying to reach Mr. Dimas.  I must have the wrong number."

"Hold on there. Who is this and how did you get this number?"

"This is Jason DeMarkos, curator of the Stark City Museum of Science and Natural History," the man explained.  "As far as how I got this number, it did take a little effort, but a phone number is not the most difficult thing to acquire should one have the proper motivation.  It does seem my efforts had lead me astray as this is... what did you say?  Jim's Meat Packing?"

"No, this is Matthew Dimas. When I see an unfamiliar number I'm a little wary of who may be calling. You'll have to excuse my little joke. What can I do for you Mr. DeMarkos?"

"Oh!  Well... very humorous.  Mr. Dimas, the Museum would like to like to commission a piece with some very specific parameters.  While this work will only allow for a small amount of artistic expression, the unique aspects of this project could be of interest to you.  I'd like to set an appointment with you to discuss our needs.  Are you available tomorrow at 11:00?"