Freeze in NYC, or Burn in Hell...fire?

[Alphonse Giordano]

((Sorry, but initially this is strictly between me and Rand. It might open up after the important bit is done.))

Now, some may consider this logic flawed, but to put it bluntly, New York City is a miserable place to live. Winter for the homeless, is also miserable. When you put two and two together, it is not that hard to realize that being homeless in New York in the dead of winter is absolutely one of the most miserable experiences a human being can go through...or, in this case, a mutant.

This mutant, is Alphonse Giordano, or Ghostwriter as he prefers to be called. He is a skinny young man in his late teens, wearing an assortment of socks, scarves, gloves, earmuffs, at least three sweaters, a simple pair of boots, and a grey trench coat on top of it all. At first glance, he appears to be nothing more than a young man who probably lives in a cardboard box in some alleyway. The only clue that he is anything more would be a glance at his eyes. One normally wouldn't see a young man with red contacts everyday, but there is nothing truly normal about Alphonse.

It is sometime around noon, but the sky is covered in clouds and it is snowing lightly, to add to the several inches already on the ground. Alphonse is alone in an alley, leaning against one of the walls, shivering slightly. He breaths into his hands, and rubs them together to attempt to generate some more heat. Every now and then, he glances up wards to a window on the opposing wall several stories up, then at the entrance to that building. A few minutes pass, and suddenly the light in the window Alphonse has been staring at goes out.

His attention focuses, and he mutters quietly in rich Italian, {"Finally...well, time to move."} Another few minutes pass, and a man dressed in a suit leaves the building, hails a cab, and leaves. That is when Alphonse makes his move. He walks directly to the wall without checking for witnesses, and closes his eyes for a moment. He then lifts his leg and puts it on the wall, and repeats with his other foot. The young raven-haired lad is now standing perfectly erect...horizontally, and begins to stride up the wall quite calmly, whistling quietly too. When he reaches the window, he flips vertically as if his heel was attached to an axis, and proceeds to walk directly through both the window AND wall as if they weren't there.

Minutes later, he steps out the same entrance and method he entered, holding a journal under his arm, pens and pencils in a pocket, and munching on what appears to be a Pop Tart. He has a discontented expression on his face, as his stomach lets out a growl. {"Damn...the fool probably never eats in his own home...always at fancy restaraunts...nothing but a stale Pop Tart...I hate this country...we actually had decent food in Rome...the ENTIRE kitchen, and nothing but a Pop Tart!"}

Alphonse inverts again once he reaches the ground, and begins to make his way out onto the sidewalk and heads toward Times Square. The lunch hour is coming up, and there will probably be a wealth of perfectly good food thrown out after all of the corporate executives are done. He sighs, and mutters, {"I wish I could speak English...nothing but a few words, I can barely understand any of them...that is why they don't take my books...pig-like publishers! I give them my best work, and they throw it away because I write on napkins and write in my native tongue! PIGS! Oh...but they and the other rich people of this country must live like Gods...Oh what I wouldn't do for a life such as that.......I hate this country....its so cold...."}

[Rand O'Neill]

New York City, the City that never sleeps. Should be the City that never stops bloody snowing.

Rand O'Neill trudges his way through atleast a few inches of snow that hasn't been cleared off of the sidewalk. All around him, pedestrians go their own ways, but they all share a common feature. That is, they ware bundled up against the frigid air, only a few bits of skin showing.

Exhaling slowly, vapor proceeds to rise out of his mouth and mingles with the fat snowflakes that are falling around him. Despite the cold, Rand can still be seen wearing an odd assortment of clothing, a black wide-brimmed hat, which is now decorated with snow, a dark black silk scarf, two insulated undershirts, a dark blue 18th century coat with silver raven embroidery and cufflinks, black leather gloves, insulated underleggings, woolen baggy breeches, padded socks, and high topped black boots, and to top it all off, a cane royal enough for a king, jett black and with a gem encrusted at the top.

A puff of arctic wind makes his eyes tear up before he can lower his head against it. Cursing under his breath, he places his hand on his hat to keep it from blowing away. It feels as if his face has been injected with some sort of numbing agent as he spares a glance into the window of a shop.

It is near noon as Rand finally sees his destination just about two blocks away. Ianelli's Italian Restaurante, a family owned operation that served delicious gourmet Italian food. It was one of Rand's favorite places to eat, as it had a friendly environment and WARM fireplaces where guests could sit in armchairs with glasses of red wine.

He isn't sure what tells him to look in one of many alleyways, perhaps it is the snatch of Italian that he hears as he is visualizing himself sitting in one of those booths by the fireplace eating delicous spaghetti and breadsticks, but he does glance over.

What he sees astounds him so much that he actually stops in his tracks, only to be nearly knocked to the ground a moment or so later by a tall man who isn't paying attention to where he is going. They exchange apologies and Rand quickly moves out of the way and into the alley. A homeless man...is well scaling a building! Rand watches in silence as the mutant makes his way into the apartment.

A few minutes later, with Rand second guessing himself and shivering in the cold, the mutant makes his way out again carrying a notebook or journal under his arm...and munching on what appears to be a Pop Tart? Rand listens as the man begins to talk to himself in fluent Italian.

{"Damn...the fool probably never eats in his own home...always at fancy restaraunts...nothing but a stale Pop Tart...I hate this country...we actually had decent food in Rome...the ENTIRE kitchen, and nothing but a Pop Tart!"}

To Rand, it sounds as if the mutant is talking in English, his powers doing the translating for him. A smile appears on his lips as the man continues, completely oblivious to Rand's presence.

{"I wish I could speak English...nothing but a few words, I can barely understand any of them...that is why they don't take my books...pig-like publishers! I give them my best work, and they throw it away because I write on napkins and write in my native tongue! PIGS! Oh...but they and the other rich people of this country must live like Gods...Oh what I wouldn't do for a life such as that.......I hate this country....its so cold...."}

"{Hello, friend. Would you be interested in some food of your native country? Surely, that Pop Tart shall not fill you. Please, I insist that you dine with me....Oh, and not all of America is this bad...trust me}"

Rand is sure that the man will accept his invitation. He is very eager to get to know this young man.

[Alphonse Giordano]

Alphonse has not been surprised that often since his arrival in the country. Compared with the shock of falling asleep and waking up in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, most of his other experiences in the Big Apple pale in comparison. This however, is one of those situations.

"{Hello, friend. Would you be interested in some food of your native country? Surely, that Pop Tart shall not fill you. Please, I insist that you dine with me....Oh, and not all of America is this bad...trust me}"

Alphonse stops dead in his tracks, and his eyes narrow. The things running through his mind are as follows: Wait...I understood that! I can actually understand something! And, food! Not this spoiled garbage! Is this some sort of cruel, cruel joke or a saint? Maybe the cold has gotten to my brain? Did I walk through too many walls? No...it was really Italian, and a real invitation!

Slowly, he turns around to meet his potential savior. Naturally, comes the next surprise of the day: A man dressed in regal, if dated, clothing. The young man is stunned by a combination of the invitation, the man's mastery of his language, the clothing, and the sheer monetary value of the clothing compared to the boy's rags. Alphonse scans the man quickly, glances at the slightly-eaten pastry in his hand, then decidedly tosses it into the street allowing a large smile to appear on his face. Alphonse speaks very loudly, and happily to this stranger.

{"Oh thank the Heavens! Signor, I am deeply humbled by your invitation, and my heart sings that I can actually talk to another person in this country! You would not believe the difficulties I have suffered in this place! I would gladly join you Signor...and to continue this conversation out of this biting cold. But before that, I must know Signor, who are you to be so kind to a pathetic soul such as I?

The young man is on the verge of breaking into tears. This is the first time since arriving in New York that he has truly been happy. It has been such a long time since he has eaten a warm meal, longer since it was original Italian food rather than the cheap imitations these Americans sell en mass.

[Rand O'Neill]

Another frigid gust of wind sends shivers down Rand's entire body but he makes no attempt to move until this young man is following in to the warm restaurant that is his destination. The young man seems to be a bit taken aback, as if he hasn't conversed with someone in his native tongue in quite a while. The poor lad probably doesn't know English, Rand thinks to himself.

The Black Rook knows that he must look odd to the foreigner, but he disregards the fact without a second thought. Rand actually doesn't mind keeping with Hellfire traditions, and wears the 18th century garb without hesitation. He finds it rather fitting to him, actually.

Rand listens as the young man begins to speak.

{"Oh thank the Heavens! Signor, I am deeply humbled by your invitation, and my heart sings that I can actually talk to another person in this country! You would not believe the difficulties I have suffered in this place! I would gladly join you Signor...and to continue this conversation out of this biting cold. But before that, I must know Signor, who are you to be so kind to a pathetic soul such as I?}

The happiness in the other man's voice is unmistakable, and Rand feels a bit warmed by his good deed despite the blistering cold. He can't explain it, but he feels drawn to this new acquaintance of his.

"{My name is Rand O'Neill, sometimes called Lord Rand and other times called the Black Rook. I am glad that you accept my invitation to dine, and I believe that I will enjoy your company even greater once we are out of this bloody cold}"

Turning on his heel, he signals to his fellow mutant to follow his lead to the restaurant. Softly, he begins to hum a tune not heard in America for atleast 400 years. He believes he knows the words, but figures he will spare his guest the misery of his singing.

[Alphonse Giordano]

A smile passes Alphonse's face, as he warms his hands again. Somehow, someway, he finally caught a break. Finally, a warm meal, good company, and he seems rich! Maybe I can learn English now...or get someone to translate my stories! That would be magnificent! But I can rejoice AFTER lunch...oh this is perfect!

Alphonse eagerly follows Rand toward their destination, and tests out saying his possible friend's name in heavily accented English. "Rand O'Neal...Rand O'Neal...Lord Rand...Black Rook....Black Rook.......Black Rook? Pen name! Black Rook is Pen Name! Me pen name too! Ghostwriter! Rand Black Rook, Alphonse Ghostwriter!" What this essentially means, is Alphonse' epiphany of code names, or as he calls them, pen names: like Mark Twain.

Alphonse coughs quietly and explains in Italian as to make his point clear, {"I'm sorry, I don't speak much, if any, English. But my name is Alphonse Giordano...but I like to call myself Ghostwriter sometimes, it is my pen name for some of my stories, so I suppose Black Rook is one of yours? Yes, it must, but everyone has different names for reasons, and I will not pry."} Somehow, the fact that Rand is dressed in 18th century garb does not affect him in the slightest. If Rand is willing to pay, Alphonse is willing to eat.

When Rand begins humming, Alphonse perks up again. This was a tune that he did in fact know. He smiles a knowing smile, and hums along in harmony. Alphonse does not have much of a singing voice, but humming for him is not that hard. Even less so when there is a good meal to be had.

[Rand O'Neill]

Rand continues onward on the slippery sidewalk toward Ianelli's, fat snowflakes still falling softly on his face. Despite the gloves on his hands, they still feel numb and so he places them in his coat pockets. This young man could potentially serve us well, he thinks to himself with an inward grin. Already, Rand had great plans for his newfound friend.

"Rand O'Neill...Rand O'Neill...Lord Rand...Black Rook....Black Rook.......Black Rook? Pen name! Black Rook is Pen Name! Me pen name too! Ghostwriter! Rand Black Rook, Alphonse Ghostwriter!"

Rand is a bit startled as the man following him begins to talk in staggered English. So, he did know a few words? Pen Name? Rand chuckles at Alphonse's revelation and turns his head a bit with a reply in English:

"Ahh, so you do know a bit of English, fantastic. Yes, Black Rook is my "pen name" as you put it...Ghostwriter, right?"

He stops in his tracks as he realizes that he is about to pass the restaurant. It is a brick building with stained glass windows saying: Ianelli's Italian Restaurante in curly lettering. Rand approaches the dark colored imitation wood door. Pulling it open, he allows himself and Ghostwriter admittance.

A young woman dressed in a white blouse and dark black pants greets them, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. Rand isn't sure which one of them surprises her more, the weird guy in 18th century style clothing, or the homeless guy with an assortment of different styles on. Nevertheless, he gives her a toothy grin, his eyes sparkling with delight.

The warmth of the restaurant is much welcomed as he and Ghostwriter follow the waitress to a booth situated by the fireplace. There aren't many customers in the restaurant today, and Rand figures it is because of the weather.

Taking his seat, he takes up a menu, waiting for Ghostwriter to follow suit.

[Alphonse Giordano]

Alphonse cannot help but look in wonderment around the restaurant. He knows for certain that it is not some sort of sick, cruel joke, but he is actually going to get a full meal. He sits down across from Rand, and shivers slightly as the warmth of the room spreads over him. To add to his comfort is the nearby fireplace. For once, it is not a pathetic little trashcan fire, but a full, real fire.

Alphonse briefly wonders if the menu is in English, but relaxes when all of the items on the menu are in Italian with English translations. His stomach lets out a very, audible growl, and he even begins to salivate slightly as his mind races through the combinations. However, he does not want to impose. That would be very impolite, so he chooses a simple though delicious and filling meal, and says to the waitress when she arrives to take the order, I take Brasato di manzo al Barolo, bread sticks, coffee one sugar and creme, please.

Naturally, he still speaks with a heavy accent, but he gets his point across he hopes. It is still hard for Alphonse to completely grasp the fact that a complete, rich, oddly-dressed stranger picked him out of the gutter and presented him with a warm meal. Then again, who is he to talk about odd dressing styles? That aside, Alphonse smiles, and relaxes into the comfort of the booth and waits for Rand to make his order. Music is played softly through speakers to add to the atmosphere, and it almost feels like home.

[Rand O'Neill]

Opening his own menu, Rand peers down at the fancy writing and searches through the boldened headings. He isn't quite sure what he wants, so he peers through the entire menu, reading each little piece about the dishes. As the waitress approaches, Rand comes to a decision.

Ghostwriter places his order as Rand is setting his hat down next to him, along with his leather gloves. Rand nods his approval at Ghostwriter's choice, a tasty main course that he himself has had once or twice before. As the waitress turns to him, still writing down Ghostwriter's order, he flashes a smile.

"I would like the Seafood Pasta, madam, and a large sweetened iced-tea."

Nodding to herself, the waitress finishes taking their orders and departs. Rand thinks she's cute, but that isn't why he is here. He takes in the man sitting across from him, and wonders just what he is capable of. Rand is itching to ask him, but doesn't want to call any more attention to an already attention-grabbing pair.

"So, Ghostwriter, what brings a man such as yourself to New York?" he questions, trying to start a conversation.

[Alphonse Giordano]

Ghostwriter rubs his hands together for a last time, as he is finally warmed up. He glances at the waitress as she takes Rand's order and watches her leave before Rand speaks to him.

>"So, Ghostwriter, what brings a man such as yourself to New York?"

The homeless man is not completely certain what his new friend said, but he understands the gist of what the question was: how had he gotten here? Well, it is a fair question. How DID a man who speaks only Italian arrive in the Big Apple? Ghostwriter thinks carefully about what he is going to try and explain next. After he's mapped out his thoughts, he speaks slowly but heavily accented.

"Is...very strange tale. Mi familia, they die in...er...auto crash? Si, si, auto crash. Me ten then. Lived in Rome, beautiful city. Very warm. Lived in streets, like now. Much warmest. I use trick to get food. Trick get me past all locks. No taken things I have need not. Few years pass, I fall asleep on boat. Very big boat. I wake up, in middle of pond...no, ocean, si? Use trick to get food from crew. Crew no see no hear me. Days gone, arrive in Hell...here. That three years I think. I scared, but use trick to survive. Is very, VERY good trick, you want to see? Don't think others can do tricks, but you still want see mi trick?"

Yet again, a misuse of words. By trick, Alphonse refers to his mutation, a concept he does not fully understand. He hasn't been able to understand the media, and was actually asleep during the entire Ellis Island fiasco a while back. But that aside, Alphonse glances to make sure nobody is watching, smiles, and leans across the table and hides his hand from the other patrons, but has it at an angle so that only Rand can see.

Alphonse places his other hand on the table, and presses down. He moves his hand slowly, and passes it through the table, then up again. He then repeats this again and again, very quickly as if the table was not there.

"Good trick, si? Mi have more!" He drops his voice to a whisper and continues, "I change weights. Make heavy float, make light crush down. I can change...what it called...smart person with apple. Fell down and hit head...gravity! Gravity, si, si, twist gravity. Can jump high, walk on wall, or go through. Is fun to do at night. Go to top of building, go through walls, up. Take deep breath first, need to hold breath in wall. But I go up, to top of building. I make no gravity, jump off. I make little gravity, I fall slow. I stay close to building, put hand in if want to go back in. No alarms, easy, then go down through walls to go out. But I can make happen in big place. In alley, make all trash float, but no move side-side. Easy to do up-down. Very sleepy to side-side....is English clear?"

[Rand O'Neill]

"Is...very strange tale. Mi familia, they die in...er...auto crash? Si, si, auto crash. Me ten then. Lived in Rome, beautiful city. Very warm. Lived in streets, like now. Much warmest. I use trick to get food. Trick get me past all locks. No taken things I have need not. Few years pass, I fall asleep on boat. Very big boat. I wake up, in middle of pond...no, ocean, si? Use trick to get food from crew. Crew no see no hear me. Days gone, arrive in Hell...here. That three years I think. I scared, but use trick to survive. Is very, VERY good trick, you want to see? Don't think others can do tricks, but you still want see mi trick?"

Rand listens attentively as Alphonse tells a little bit of his back story. It seems as if the young man missed his old life in Rome. Rand genuinely felt sorry for the man, at his misfortune, for he could not imagine living the way that Ghostwriter described. His English wasn't the best, but it was atleast understandable and Rand gets the gist of it.
But, he is puzzled by what Ghostwriter describes as his "trick." Did the young man mean his mutation?

He continues to watch as the young man across from him proceeds to give him a demonstration of his"trick." Rand is impressed as Ghostwriter's hand passes through the table as if it is well, a Ghost's. A familiar feeling creeps into the back of his skull, signaling that something is about to happen to him. Great, not now...

Ghostwriter continues with a hint of excitement mixed into his heavily accented English.

"I change weights. Make heavy float, make light crush down. I can change...what it called...smart person with apple. Fell down and hit head...gravity! Gravity, si, si, twist gravity. Can jump high, walk on wall, or go through. Is fun to do at night. Go to top of building, go through walls, up. Take deep breath first, need to hold breath in wall. But I go up, to top of building. I make no gravity, jump off. I make little gravity, I fall slow. I stay close to building, put hand in if want to go back in. No alarms, easy, then go down through walls to go out. But I can make happen in big place. In alley, make all trash float, but no move side-side. Easy to do up-down. Very sleepy to side-side....is English clear?"

This time, it takes Rand a bit longer to piece together what Ghostwriter is trying to convey to him. What he gathers is: Basically, the young mutant sitting across from him can manipulate gravity, and he enjoys doing so. It is easy for him to move things vertically, but harder for him to move them horizontally. How interesting, Rand thinks.

"Yes, your English is just lovely, mutant scum," comes a harsh voice. Rand's head turns so fast it's as if some invisible force has pushed it. It is the waitress, and she is wearing perhaps the meanest scowl that Rand has ever seen on her face. She is holding their drinks, but Rand is pretty sure that they will not get to enjoy them.

"Stay where you are, the police are on their way. Seems that a passerby a few blocks away spotted your pal here, coming out of an apartment. They say that he could pass through the walls...and by his lovely demonstration that he just gave, I'm 100% sure that he's the guy."

By this time, her little tirade has drawn the gazes of basically every patron in the restaurant. Despite the harsh words directed at he and Ghostwriter, a mask of calm hides the roiling torrents of fury inside. Rand prepares to get up, first gathering his hat and gloves, but she continues.

"Where do you think you're going? The both of you are staying here until the police arrive."

"I think not", he replies cooly.

[Alphonse Giordano]

Alphonse knows trouble when it comes. The waitress and her tone, despite not completely understood by Alphonse, is trouble. He manages to pick out a few key words and understand, "Police, scum, mutant, leaving, and not." Alphonse scowls slightly, not enjoying being called scum. It is always some sort of 'scum' with these Americans. Homeless scum, dirty scum, scum, and now mutant scum. Adding the police does not bring him any comfort.

Alphonse grabs his notebook, and stands...directly through the table. He is taller than the waitress, and he places his free hand on Rand's shoulder. He is glaring down directly into her eyes, showing that to the untrained eye, he has red eyes. Slowly, he says both to the waitress and the patrons, "Signora, you no respect people who work to live. You take food granted. You also call me and friend scum. Well signora, YOU the scum! See how YOU like being treated like scum! See how YOU feel helpless!

As he speaks, various untouched pieces of silverware begin to rise off of the tables. Those with longer hair in the restaurant would find that it too is rising. Alphonse presses his hand down on Rand to keep him on the ground, then contorts his face into a full, concentrated scowl, before hunching over slightly, and suddenly flexing outward.

When he does so, all gravity in the room is reversed, sending all of the patrons, chefs, pots, pans, knives, silverware, and the waitress flying into the ceiling of the restaurant. The only exceptions are Rand and Alphonse. The man's eye is twitching as he continues his "trick" and helps Rand to his feet...also through the table. "How you like it? Feeling helpless? No way down! When leave, you fall. Brace for it, scum! I spit at you!" And he did...the spit flying upward and hitting the waitress in the face.

Alphonse then looks to Rand, eye still twitching and says, "Feel slight weird. Go through walls now. Take deep breath make easier. You hold on, you go through too." With that said, he makes certain that Rand has all of his belongings, and leads him through the wall of the restaurant, to another alley way. Alphonse can hear the sounds of sirens, and a refreshing number of screams and crashes from the building which they had just left. He smiles slightly, before leading Rand through several connecting alleys, an empty laundromat, the first floor of a cheap apartment, and eventually into covered alley shielded from the wind directly across from a bank but not in view of any cameras.

Alphonse is panting slightly, and makes sure no part of Rand is in a wall, before letting go of him, and sitting down on a covered trashcan. {"Are you alright, my friend? It feels very strange the first few times, but in time you get used to it. I'm sorry about lunch...I didn't know what my trick was. I don't think a mutant is a bad thing...but I don't think I shall want to eat THERE again...the food seemed good, but the service was horrible...but I am sorry about ruining our lunch. If I hadn't shown what I could do, none of this would have happened. If you wish to go back to your fancy life or whatnot, go ahead.}

[Rand O'Neill]

While Rand may have kept a cool head, Alphonse surely did not. All of a sudden, Rand finds himself resisting the negative gravity that Alphonse has created in the restaurant, Ghostwriter's reassuring hand on his shoulder. An assortment of objects fly through the air and upward, seemingly stuck to the ceiling. Rand lays a hand over his head to keep his hat from flying off.

Damn, best to remember not to piss this guy off, thinks a slightly nauseous Black Rook. Despite the seriousness of the chaos that is all around him, Rand can't help but smile, a smile that speaks volumes about what he is thinking. Hahaha, told you so!, he smiles at the fear-stricken waitress. If only she could read his mind, and to think, he had thought she was cute...

He wished he had a camera as Alphonse proceeds to spit in her face, right in her eye! On the inside, Rand is giggling madly. He likes this new guy! Alphonse turns to him and says something, but Rand can barely hear over the patrons indignant and fearful cries.

Taking the man's heed, he takes a deep breath and holds it. Rand feels as if he's passing through icy-cold water as he sky-rockets through space, holding on tightly to Ghostwriter as they make their dashing escape, beings of intangibility. The feeling is quite rushing, but Rand isn't too keen on a second go.

They end up in another alleyway, and Alphonse is panting slightly. The sudden transition between intangibility and tangibility is quite jarring, and Rand can't help but double over, wretching out his breakfast. After a moment or so, he wipes his mouth on a white kerchief and deposits it in a trash can.

The sound of police sirens can be heard in the distance, and Rand isn't quite sure just how far they've gone away from Ianelli's. He takes a deep breath and sits next to an upset Ghostwriter.

{"Are you alright, my friend? It feels very strange the first few times, but in time you get used to it. I'm sorry about lunch...I didn't know what my trick was. I don't think a mutant is a bad thing...but I don't think I shall want to eat THERE again...the food seemed good, but the service was horrible...but I am sorry about ruining our lunch. If I hadn't shown what I could do, none of this would have happened. If you wish to go back to your fancy life or whatnot, go ahead.}

"{'Tis not your fault my friend...The people back there were just afraid of what they do not understand. They should not have treated us the way they did...but do not place the blame on yourself. I will not leave you, for we must look out for each other. I insist that you return to the Hellfire Manor with me, Ghostwriter. I guarantee a warm bed, warm food, and clean clothes.}", says the Black Rook assuringly.

It seems as if they have lost the police, but Rand is like a magnet for trouble today. Two police officers walk by, glancing into the alley. Rand can hear distinctly the sound of the dispatcher over their radios. One of the officers picks up his transmitter, identifying Rand and Ghostwriter. Bloody, cursed luck! he thinks furiously.

"You two, against the wall, hands over your head!"

With a look that says "Oh, how about hell no?" to Ghostwriter, Rand siphons all feeling out of him. There, just beyond his reach, is a pool of psionic energy just waiting to be used. Extending his "grasp", he taps into his power. Two blinding white blades erupt into his hands, signaling to the officers that this isn't going to be a picnic.

With a flick of his wrists, the two blades whistle through the air and into the two officers' chests. Almost immediately, they go down in a fit of convulsions, eyes rolled up in their heads.

The sirens suddenly don't sound so far away...

[Alphonse Giordano]

Alphonse smiles at the promises of warm beds, good meals, and clothing other than these filthy rags he wears. In Rand, he had finally found a friend in this horrible city. Certainly, Hellfire Manor is an odd name, but then again, what IS normal anyway? Certainly Alphonse isn't, nor is Rand. Less so when suddenly, it appears his friend creates blades from nothing, and takes down both officers almost effortlessly.

So it seems that both of them have tricks...er...mutations. Alphonse smiles a slight smile, which drops when the sound of sirens draws closer. Looking around at the fastest escape route, Alphonse's gaze slowly drops down to the ground. He looks across the street at the bank, and gazes at the clock face on it. It reads 12:07. He gestures for Rand to stay where he is, and jogs out to the alley's opening, where the downed officers are. He peers around the corners, and knows where he is. Naturally, he uses landmarks rather than street signs, but the timing is perfect.

He runs back to Rand, and grasps his shoulder firmly. {"My friend, you may think me crazy, but I ask you trust me. Take a deep breath, try not to flinch, and definitely try not to scream. I have done this before, and if I fumble this, don't worry...we'll just have to walk a bit more. Alright, deep breath......three.....two...............one!"

When Alphonse says one, he keeps his hand on Rand, and hops into the air, when he comes down, he falls through the ground, taking Rand with him. Several feet of dirt pass, and he prays that he hasn't missed. Just as he is about to become worried, the dirt disappears and the pair fall into a tunnel...with a pair of blinding lights in front of them. Alphonse grits his teeth as his timing was slightly off, but he leaps again when the train approaches, passing through circuitry and passengers to the deserted back car, placing the two of them easily in seats. Alphonse steps away in case Rand vomits again, but still sighs with relief. If he had just a few seconds more off, they would have had to walk the rest of the tunnel.

{"I hope that I did not scare you too much. I have had to do this before when I needed a quick ride. No tickets, no problem. Well then...tell me more about this 'Hellfire Manor.' Fairly uncommon name, then again, it is fairly uncommon for a man in Eighteenth century clothing who can manifest blades to befriend a homeless young man who can walk through walls and twist gravity, no?"}

[Rand O'Neill]

A moment or so later Rand lets go of his power, feeling slightly nauseous once more. He is reluctant to release it completely, to let the euphoria of grasping his psionic energies leave him, but lately he has been feeling a bit strange when using his powers. The world seems to become washed out as he lets go, but that is nothing unusual...what is though, is the horrible taste in his mouth and the dizziness that is accompanying it. So, as you can imagine, Ghostwriter's little ploy does not help matters at all.

The feeling of intangibility returns as Alphonse exercises his own powers, sending the two of them sinking through concrete and earthly matter. Exhilarating, but at the same time chilling, a tingling feeling throughout his body, as if he is being poked with tiny childrens' cold fingers. A few moments later they pass through an underground tunnel, directly in the path of an uncoming subway train.

Eyes wide as saucers, Rand tries to let out a terrified shout, but sound does not leave his lips. Closing his widened eyes, he braces for the inevitable impact....,

Only to find himself in a seat on said subway train. Feeling a bit green, he fights back the urge to wretch and reluctantly, his stomach agrees. Letting out a deep breath, for he realized that he is still holding it, he swallows the warm air of the subway train. As can be expected, the patrons of the subway are both staring at he and Alphonse for obvious reasons, but he decides to ignore their incredulous expressions.

{"I hope that I did not scare you too much. I have had to do this before when I needed a quick ride. No tickets, no problem. Well then...tell me more about this 'Hellfire Manor.' Fairly uncommon name, then again, it is fairly uncommon for a man in Eighteenth century clothing who can manifest blades to befriend a homeless young man who can walk through walls and twist gravity, no?"}

Rand figures that he might as well fill Alphonse in, being how he will be staying in the company of a very powerful organization.

{"Yes, good point. I reside at this Hellfire Manor, but it is one of many throughout the country. As for the choice of dress, all Inner Circle members of the Hellfire Club, which I am apart of, choose to wear this style...perhaps to honor the founders of the Club. The Inner Circle is comprised of very powerful mutants, such as myself. We are named according to Chess pieces, hence my own name: Black Rook. Sadly, we only have a few Inner Circle members...and a certain influential member has...well...left us."}

[Alphonse Giordano]

Alphonse listens intently. He still has trouble believing that he is actually leaving the streets to live in a Manor. He has never played chess, but he has watched the old men in Central Park do it. In fact, he has passed by an old man not too long ago playing chess, but he had been metal chess pieces. But Alphonse has gotten used to not questioning other people's choices in clothing, music, food...or in this case chess piece material.

When Rand finishes his explanation, Alphonse leans over and looks at the staring subway passengers. He has an apathetic expression, and says quietly but audibly, "Boo." He doesn't wait to see their reactions, but returns to his conversation with Rand. Alphonse also chooses to ignore the fact that he has evaded the police eight separate times before now.

{"Well then, I'm sorry for your loss. Did they...no, I will not pry into personal matters. But tell me, why did you choose to pick me up out of the gutter? I mean, you are a rich, enigmatic, powerful man with a gift, and I am just a homeless vagrant who also has a gift. Unless you want a thief or a writer, I am not that much good. I've seen my fare share of strange things in this city, for certain, but I could not lead you to them."}