Follow the lead

[Peter Wisdom]

Peter Wisdom had been in the colonies for a month, and he was sick of it. More accurately, he was sick of New York.

In London, your looney doomsday cults were hard to track, but there was only so many places you could hide. Peter hit the right people, paid off the rest, he could find what he needed without anyone ever knowing he was Ministry. However, in this God forsaken city, there seem to be a bloody hiding spot in every bloody building of this bloody city. And not a single Bleeding one of them knew anything about Apocolypse's hand. By law of averages, he should have found more than just one hit by now.

Now, he was stuck in one of those hipster clubs, which too much fake fog and track lighting, looking for some woman who called herself Trade. He had no picture, no real name, and only a hint that she may be involved in the cult's activities here in NYC.

Peter had always believed that on a snake, the rattler may get your attention, but it's the head you never see coming. He still was going to check out the Facebook of Humanity or whatever but right now he wanted to have the same amount of information on all the players. The Brotherhood was dangerous but unorganized, and Apocolypse's Hand had gone darker than a black hole. He decided to investigate the cult before the frat.

He pushed his way through the throng of people, until he found himself at what appeared to be a bar from some neon loving future earth, and yelled loudly at the bartender, quite a few times. Finally, when the bartender was about to give up, Peter wrote the five letter word on a napkin. "Trade?"

[Trade]

Clubs. She usually didn't go to such things. But, this one had a secret hidden in the sublevels. The levels even deeper than the police and investigators as well as inspectors managed to get down to. Hidden, sound proofed, the only way to get to it was to be a part of what went on down there. The place where "kill or be killed" was taken literally unless you happened to be one of those cash waving spectators with a thirst for blood and a morbid attraction to mutilation. There was only one rule: No Muties.

Well, she made sure that she got a go-ahead anyways. In this lighting, passing off as an albino worked just fine. She was skilled enough with her abilities to where it was nearly impossible to tell what she did anyways. Practice made perfect and in those years she used to belong to Cortez for, she had been made to get perfect. It was over a decade ago, but that didn't matter. Old habits died hard and new opponents died fast. Not too fast though, the crowd needed a show. She had to make it exciting for them. Get their blood pumping as she had the blood of her opponents spraying.

This was one of her frequent haunts. The fights keeping her past and nightmares at bay. At this point, they knew her by name. They didn't ask how she managed to come back as often as she did. With how much she was covered up, it would be hard to tell if she had any bandages or stitches anyways. The fighters weren't given inspections here. It was every man for himself. Well, normally every man for himself. Women weren't all that common here. Well, as far as "participants of the events". Actually, she'd only come across one and that barely could have passed for female with all the steroids and such that she had been pumped full of. She had looked like Steve Austin with braids and slightly less facial hair.

Another reason for them to be so welcoming when it came to her coming in for the fights. Sex appeal. She might not have thought she was much to look at but the spectators liked to see something like her getting beaten around by monster of men. The chance of there being torn clothing or even domination of a female fighter that looked female brought in more customers for the fights. Even if it all remained strictly underground business. Only the high-rollers of the black markets, the darkest of the gang leaders, the most "eccentric" of the wealthy who had unconventional appetites, the fighters their owners or agents, and the private security even knew of this place.

How did she come about this information? Well, once you're in that life you never leave, it seems. She had made enough impact in peoples wallets that it didn't matter that she had retired for a little over a decade. They wanted her in. All she had to do was track down some key faces she had remembered from back in the day. Not hard since they were in the background of the memories of her former owner.

The fights had been as bloody as usual on the end of her opponents. On hers, not so much. It seemed tonight was just full of people who didn't know what they were doing. She didn't get many injuries so she had to work a little harder. She didn't mind that though. They died the same and she got what she needed out of it to a point. It just meant she would have to come back sooner in the week than usual.

Collecting her money after about an hour to make sure to keep up the facaide of her being normal, she went to the showers then after cleaning herself up, putting on the fresh set of clothes she had brought with her. Her money was given to her in a small case that resembled a laptop when it was closed. This "laptop" was placed in a generic laptop carrier. It was hundred dollar bills and fifties, but the club broke them if the service was needed.

On her way out, one of the "security" there gained her attention. Then, was lucky not to have gotten slashed in half as she heard the message that had been delivered from the bartender. Someone was looking for her. Either it meant that the big boss man was ready to give orders, or that someone from her past was looking to die. Sure, there were chances of other situations arising, but those were slim to none. A chance, but not too likely. Still, she had a sense of curiosity lingering so she decided to do something about it. She decided to go up and see what this was about.

The bartender had stalled. He'd used the excuse of having so many patrons that he couldn't get to the stranger for a few minutes. Those few minutes had been all he needed though as Trade, as deadly as her hair was white, stalked up to the counter and took a seat on one of the stools, giving a slight nod to show she wanted some water disguised as vodka. The bartender gave her a signal to let her know which person had asked for her and she gave another nod.

"Not much of a talker, so good luck getting to where you're trying to go with her." The bartender stated before gesturing over to where Trade was sitting.

[Peter Wisdom]

Peter looked, and looked again. A nice way to say how this "Trade" looked was exotic. And he got the impression you always wanted to nice things about her. She radiated confidence. No, more than that. Danger. She was dangerous.

Peter nodded to the bartender. He realized that he was already playing this all wrong. If this was a cult, they needed followers. And he had identified himself as a player. And not the kind ladies love to hate. As soon as they locked eyes, he knew that she was sizing him up as well.

"Bullocks", he said under his breath as he finished his cranberry juice. Then he stood up, walked over to her while straitening his tie, and gave his best powerful glare. "How do you want this to go down?"

[Trade]

He'd be easy to kill, assuming he was as fleshy as he looked. Never knew with people these days. For all she knew, he could have had a chainmail of some insane alloy of metal under his skin. Mutants were out there and there were a lot more of them than people might have guessed, after all. She drank down the water like one would a shot, then tapped a couple of times with her index finger on the bar counter to order another. It was always a good idea to drink a lot of water after losing some blood.

The stranger muttered something she didn't quite catch but she had seen his lips move. Either it was a congratulations to himself over having found her, or it was a curse to himself over the situation that could quite possibly unfold. A lot could happen in a second. Like a fight breaking out and plenty of people dying. There was a deadly gleam in her eyes which would still look red due to the lighting of the club. Albino, she was passing herself off as albino... even if the owners of this club and those who worked in it knew that some albinos were nothing near fragile.

"How do you want this to go down?"

The stranger seemed to have an idea of the danger he was getting into himself. So who was he? What did he want? Why ask for her by name? Very few people would ask for her by name. And most of them ended up realizing they had suicidal tendencies.

"Spill it."

Two words. Two words more than people usually got. Most the people around here assumed that she was mute. Even the bartender seemed to be a bit caught off guard as he set the water down in front of her and took her empty glass.

[Peter Wisdom]

"I'm a mutant. My name is Peter Wisdom. I worked for someone you've never heard of, but for all intents and purposes, I'm off the clock. I want to make the world better, and I want to do it right now. Either this is the start of us having our own private war, or this is your chance to prove to me I'm back the wrong horse."

He dead eyed her, let his hands open up, and small white hot blades began to creep from his fingertips.

Peter had hunted predators all his life. And he knew what it meant to be in their den. This was "Trade's" turf, and he was the challenger. So, his goal was two fold. Show strength, then try and work his way into the pack.

[Trade]

Well she could guess that right about now, whoever he worked for would be less than entertained with him announcing in a public place that he was a mutant. Unless they were they type that were already set with their identification cards and were proud of it. Not very likely. The majority of mutants were against the idea from what she knew. Perhaps that was why he mentioned it in past tense? Because they had expelled him from their circle? But then how did he find her? Why did he know her by name? It could have been that he was trying to flush her out. Trying to expose her as a mutant.

As he drew out several small glowing blades, she continued to look at him the same way she had been. Her expression never shifted, never changed. The security wouldn't think anything odd of this. Nor would the bartender. Why? Because it was because she was the same way in the ring or cage. The bartender pretended to be busy with some of the patrons on the other side of the bar counter but Trade knew that he was just waiting to see what would happen. And to see if he could get to his shotgun if it was needed.

"You're misinformed." She stated with about as much warmth in her tone as a crocodile's blood.

If she was to show that she was a mutant here, this would no longer be one of her haunts. That, and word would spread. Spread like a wildfire on a windy day. So for now, she'd keep drinking her water. The fact that she hadn't attacked him yet would be because at least half of the time, she let her opponent make the first strike.

[Peter Wisdom]

"You're misinformed," she said blankly, turning towards her drink and something apparently more interesting.

Whew Peter had to think to himself. This may have gone better, but it could have gone much worse. If she had tried to pull him in, this wouldn't be what he was looking for. If she had attacked him right there, he was pretty sure he was a dead man. But in fiegning ignorance, she had confirmed that she had something to hide, and that he was at least intriguing enough to her to let him live.

At least till she got the full story on him. Or had him jumped outside the hall. Playing a rookie move may have made him appear weak, but it might have saved his life.

"My mistake," he said. He retracted his knives, placed his hands in his pockets, and leaned his elbow on the bar. "I'd offer to pay for your drink, but I don't think they charge for water. And I doubt they charge you period." Peter than walked out into the crowd towards the side door exit. As he pushed the door open, he found the cool air refreshing. She was part of that group, and at least it was a solid lead. He decieded to wait 10 minutes in the alleyway, see if she tried to make a move. He was pretty sure he was on to something, but knowledge is power. Peter could always use alittle more power.

[Trade]

He commented on it being his mistake. The stranger had no idea on how right he was. Not only had he come searching for the wrong person but he had publicly shown that he was a mutant. This had been directed at her at that, so she would have to ensure that no one began to think that she was one. It would bring about the events she was earlier trying to avoid.

"I'd offer to pay for your drink, but I don't think they charge for water. And I doubt they charge you period."

What little chance he had of getting away with this, was gone with those words. She knew this, and as she shot a glare at the bartender, he knew this. It was only a matter of time before the mutant would be finding this out. Time that was rapidly running out. One of the members of the security here began to move in her direction and she gave a single shake of her head to answer before he even asked. No, they wouldn't be handling this. She would be. It wouldn't be the first time she had taken care of an offense. There had been a couple of out of the ring challengers she had dealt with in the past. This would be about the same.

Just this time, she wouldn't be waiting for them to bring out a couple of the highest paying spectators.

Finishing off her water, she set the glass down then moved from the bar. She was silent, her movements were fluid, and she passed through the crowd as if it didn't exist causing barely a ripple in the sea of people who were dancing or standing around talking or drinking. And as she closed in on one of the exits, she allowed her knife to drag along her side. The darkness of the night would do the part of the concealing that the black of her shirt wasn't able to.

It was a different exit but led to the same alley. A simple transference of one of the cracked ribs she had from the fights took care of the camera. He was there. Just like she had known he would be. And as she walked towards him with anger burning in her eyes, she sent the deep cut she had made not too long ago, onto his back to go down along the spine.

Nothing fatal, just a warning.

"I'm no mutant." She stated, nodding her head towards the club to make it clear to him that she was getting him back for trying to put doubts in the minds of the people who were within it.

((permission to mod was granted))

[Peter Wisdom]

Peter saw the door open, and as he turned, he felt a wound appear on his back. Just....appeared. And it hurt like hell.

"Gahh!" Peter shouted, ripping off his coat on instinct, as if that was cutting him. He felt the blood flow warmly down his spine.

"I'm no mutant." She said with authority. He was too busy trying to reach his back to notice.

Finally after a short time of hooping and hollering, he finally calmed down enough to look at the knife wielding beauty before him. Peter looked at her quizzically. "Oh, you're a mutant darling. Now that there is no one around no harm in admitting it. But what's your skill. Let's see, you could be telekinetic...but that would have caused a the wound to open gradually, not all at once. If you could someone control my skin, I would have noticed a spike in my vitals when you took control. You could have teleported, but if you were that fast you would have taken me out at the bar with no one the wiser. Think, Peter, Think."

"Ohh...trade, I bet you make a trade of some sort...what did you trade for I wonder? Well, doesn't matter now. If you could do that, I assume you could have done it to a vein that would have ended my life, but all you've done is piss me off and ruin my shirt. And I really liked this shirt.


"So, I am alive, and you are out here alone, which means you need something from me or you want to say something to me. Either way, get it over with."

[Trade]

He yelled out from the unexpected pain and she felt nothing but that chill that had settled over her heart. Sounds of pain didn't bother her anymore. Not like when she had been a kid. In fact, in a lot of cases these days, it brought satisfaction to her to hear such things. Especially from an opponent. Right now though, she was much too serious to feel that.

"Oh, you're a mutant darling. Now that there is no one around no harm in admitting it. But what's your skill. Let's see, you could be telekinetic...but that would have caused a the wound to open gradually, not all at once. If you could someone control my skin, I would have noticed a spike in my vitals when you took control. You could have teleported, but if you were that fast you would have taken me out at the bar with no one the wiser. Think, Peter, Think."

His rambling was getting to start on her nerves. Not that she had much patience in the first place. While he talked to himself, she paid close attention to the doors that led to the alleys to make sure no one was on their way.

"Ohh...trade, I bet you make a trade of some sort...what did you trade for I wonder? Well, doesn't matter now. If you could do that, I assume you could have done it to a vein that would have ended my life, but all you've done is piss me off and ruin my shirt. And I really liked this shirt... So, I am alive, and you are out here alone, which means you need something from me or you want to say something to me. Either way, get it over with."

"Leave me alone."

Short, cold, to the point. It should have gotten the message across. He was to drop the whole topic of her or anything to do with her. This was the only warning she was going to give him.

[Peter Wisdom]

Peter pointed two fingers at Trade, and allowed a 5 inch hot knife glide out of them. The air sizzled as the blade cut the space before him.

Peter's eyes went cold. He dropped the facade he had used. He was running out of time and this lead was going nowhere. He only had a few options available to him, and he wasn't fond of any of them. That didn't mean he wouldn't use them.

"Then give me someone else to bug. Because right now, you are my only shot at finding out more about your little club, and I plan to get the information one way or another. While you don't know who I am, I will at least tell you what I do. I can make blades hot as the sun, and I control how long they last. I can use them to either cut off your limbs or paralyze them. I will take you down, and I will get my information I need."

Peter stood defiant, ready to attack.

[Trade]

She saw the weapons that he formed at his fingertips, but was not intimidated in the least. In fact, Trade couldn't remember the last time she felt intimidated. It was like she was numb to it now. She halfway wished that she could feel it again. That she could feel things like nervousness and fear again too. Those were the things that people felt when they were alive, right? The things felt to tell you that you had at least some sense of self preservation instincts? Where were preservation instincts? Were they dead and gone like the person she used to be before Cortez had gotten a hold of her?

"There's no club." She almost growled out at him.

Technically, it wasn't a group it wasn't a club and it wasn't an organization. Not until they were all called upon by Apocalypse. Not that this man was going to get that from her. He could try, and he would end up as dead as anyone else who tested her patience.

"See what happens."

She was telling him to attack if he dared to do it rather than attempting to threaten her. He had no idea what he was getting into. She might have been trying to give mutants a chance where humans had failed in showing her there was something worth to save, but that didn't mean that if pushed to a certain point, she would feel any remorse in killing one of her own. Killing was what she did. She did it often, and without regret over what she had done. But then again, those she killed were just asking for it one way or another.

As she heard the doors to the alley way open, she have a flick of her wrists to have her knives fall out of her sleeves and into her hands. She had to protect her secret for now, after-all.