Lost and Found (Open X-men/Brother Hood)

[Greel]

Greel walked into the cafe. Huddle House, Waffle House. Something. To be honest he wasn't sure. It may well be a hole in the wall Mom and Pop's. At 5'10 he was only average hieght. Little body fat on his thin frame. His cloths were tattered and worn. He didn't smell. He just looked dirty.

It was obvious he had found these cloths. They did not fit well. He moved with the grace of a cat though. A Throw back from his High School days. High School Days? He was a senior only a few weeks ago and school just started. It was in the past though. After what happened to the boy..

I don't want to fight you

I wouldn't want to fight me freak.

Just go away

I will once I take a piece of you with me...

Greel gritted his teeth at the thought. He kept his powers a secret for almost two years. That little punk saw the car wreck. The punk saw Greel splatter on the hood of the car and pull himself back together. He didn't mean for it to happen.

The other kid came at him with a knife. On reflex he changed to the jelly like stuff that saved him last time. He wrapped around the kid in a ball. He didn't squeeze. He had broke tree trucks this way when he started to experment with his powers. He was able to constrict like a snake. He started to get a little to exited. He was in control. He kinda liked it.....

The waitress made her way to Greel

'What will it be?'

'Just a water right now.'

He sees her had. It is wrapped up tight. On the edge you could see the burn marks she was trying to cover. Greel shivered. He knew what that must felt like. The nerve endings frying till it was cold. He knew all to well how that works.

He heard the sizzle before he smelled it. How did he smell in this form? He didn't have a nose. How did he hear? He had no ears. No matter. He senced it. Even as a Glob on inklink stuff he knew something was wrong. Different. He oozed off the boy. He formed what looked like a head and look at...what was that? Oh my God...Oh my God....there isn't anymore skin on the kid. Oh God.. Where is the boy's other leg?!?!?!?! He looked down to see the grass was dead. There was a trail like a slug behind him. Even as it dispeared like it always did in seconds...there was only dirt. He pulled himself to a human like shape and placed his hand on a tree.

He smelled the burn bark. Heard the sizzle. At once he was human again. No cloths though. He normally had cloths when he changed back. They must have burnt off. It has never done that before. What was going on? He oozed his arms and picked up a stick. No sizzle. As long as he didn't loss control it didn't burn....Hopefully

"You ok Suga'?

"Yeah, I just need my water....."

[Slab]

Senior Detective Brian MacLanahan found the diner easily on his way home. The truck engine roared as he pulled into the place. He was lookin' for a decent steak, maybe some fries, an ice cold Coke, and a place to eat it in. No cooking tonight.

A long day of tedium ended with just the same. No real big cases, nothing new to report. Stalemate. Feeling a little more restless than usual, Brian rubs the reddish stubble on his pale face. Strangely enough, he could hear a radio somewhere:

A three-day beard, I don't plan to shave...

And Brian almost smiled. Almost. The smile faded, just as the jeans on him faded with time. Same as the worn leather jacket, the boots, and probably everything else he wore. It had all probably seen better days, but showed remarkable durability. As did the wearer of the clothing; Brian seemed a figure of sharp and etched lines, almost a chisled individual. Maybe with the stubble, he looked his ripe age of forty, but without it, he had the body of someone younger, someone stronger. Maybe with the full frame, a person could tell; but otherwise, Brian seemed nondescript. Green eyes, red haired, pale skin. Obviously of Irish descent. Most likely a drunk.

With a thud on the pavement, Brian steps out of the truck, and makes his way toward the diner, the truck door shutting behind him. The walk was relatively short, and the bells rang as the diner's doors struck them, announcing his arrival. With the worn clothing, the unshaven face, and the look of a drunk, not many would peg Brian MacLanahan for a senior detective. He didn't even look like an off-duty cop. No visible shield, no visible gun. Brian rarely even carried a weapon. Why? His powers were far more effective than any weapon....

With a sigh, Brian slid into the booth, a table away from the young man in the ill-fitting clothing. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the place. His expression seemed troubled. Brian knew the look all too well. Twenty plus years ago, Brian had the same expression, that same scared-deer-in-the-headlights look. As the waitress brought him his order of water, Brian saw another warning sign yet again. Kid that age would have a normal appetite, unless something happened to take that appetite away. As the waitress made her way to him, Brian ordered a T-bone medium rare with a plate of fries and the biggest glass of Coke she could find. As he waited, Brian noted that he was in the kid's viewing area. He would be easy to spot. Hell, with the red-hair, who could miss me, Brian thought to himself as he waved to the kid.

"Hey, kid. Brighten up."

[Greel]

Greel looked up. This guy was a little taller than himself, but alot more filled out. The guy looked like a one of two things. He was either a drunk, or someone that had not slept in days. The red veins in the eyes gave it away. People said that the eyes were a window to the soul. If that was the case the windows in this man had been hit by a rock. Spiderwebbed on the verge of breaking.

"I am ok. Just....out of it."

Greel had heard of guys like these. They picked up kids like him. On the run. They offered help at a price. The price? A few minutes in the back seat of a car or hotel room. Greel had knew what was up. He had seen few episode of Desperate Housewives thank you very much.

He hund his head to try and shield his eyes. Don't make eye contact. That is how they break you. Gave him a few seconds to think as well. His eyes darted back and forth. He looked around trying to take as much in as he could in only a few moments of time. He had played game like this before when he needed to ghost of something.

The space under the door

The crack in a window.

A window that has seen better days. A window that lets you know what is on the other side. A widow that doesn't hide what is happening. It is there for everyone to see. Yet the window doesn't care. It is just a natural phase of life. It has seen things. Knows what is going on in the world. Been down rough roads. Windows can't hide what is there. Even in they are cracked and looked like stained glass. Red was the new black anyway right?

"I just have messed up. Don't know what to do from there. I got into a fight. Don't know how to go back from there."

The glass started to heat up. Helet it go real fast. Had to control his emotions. To many people here to cut loose. Stay calm. Just stay calm.

[Slab]

Brian nodded his head, knowing all too well the boy's dilemma.

"Well, that's exactly how it always starts. But it ends in two ways: either you get a grip, or you lose it. The first one, trust me, is far better than the second. But here's the first decision in front of ya. Do you a) eat food with an older guy who's been there, and is willing to even pay for your food, or do you b) sit there and sulk, with a hungry stomach that probably won't be filled for sometime? The choice is your's to make, as is all the choices that we must make in our lives are."

Brian looked up, as the waitress brought back his food, a sizzling T-bone medium rare, a steaming plate of seasoned fries, and a refill of his tall glass of Coke, heavy on the ice. He sawed into the steak, taking a bite of the reddish-pink meat. It was nothing short of heaven after a day of tedium. Brian made sure to savor the bite. It was a good steak. But savoring such in front of a hungry kid would only serve to bait the kid. And Brian didn't mind paying for a kid's dinner, especially if he were in a spot of bad luck. Brian was just that kind of person. Some called 'em Samaratians, others just called 'em good people....

[Greel]

Greel nodded. What harm could it do? He was already in past his head in life. What was one more dance? He motioned for the older man to have a seat. Greel looked through the menu.

"I'll take a cheese burgar, hold the onions, with a side of fries. I also will take a large coke as well."

Greel looked at the man as he sat down. He wanted to see if he was on the level. Greel had been slumming it for a few months now. He knew some of the slang 'his kind' used now. What the underground muties used. Time to see how far the rabbit hole went.

"I guess I can blame it on my parents. I got bad genes."

Any mutant that has been down any rough roads new what that meant. Bad Genes was a slang for the X-Gene. The one that gave you your powers. Saying it was a bad gene lead people to think you had bad teeth or your daddy liked to slap you around a bit. Muties knew better though. He knew lots of slag now.

The waitress brought him his food. He started to tear into it. It was weeks sence he had this much food at one time. He was used to eating a little at a time when he could find it. His powers gave him the ability to do some greatish things. One was not eat very little or such. He could melt a car and turn a animal to a puddle that looked like something out of a horror show, but he could not feed that way. He knew jelly fish could and hoped it worked similar, but it didn't. Just melted stuff. That was when he wanted it to. Greel was able to contain it as long as he was calm. He was still working on the control under stress part.

[Slab]

Brian nodded. His years of being a mutant and a police officer had paid off, honing his instincts.

"Well, I figured as much. We all got bad genes; some get bad hair, others bad teeth. You and I, we get....I dunno, whatever we got...."

Brian took several bites of steak and fries.

"So, just how bad is your situation? I'm pretty sure I have a solution..."

[Greel]

Greel looked througha window letting the sun hit his face. It was funny how something you could never touch meade you feel so good. It made things simple. The sun warms you up. Why? It does. The sky is blue. Why? It just is.

"It is a little rough. Me and Guy I knew got in a fight. I didn't know it could happen. He just...fell to pieces is the wrong phrase. Puddy in my hands?maybe? Is there a phrase for someone melting by accident?"

Greel felt there was no way or reason to sugar coat it. There was not a clever play on work for 'I didn't mean to, but I melted a guys skin off along with most of the right side of his body'. Sometimes you just have to toss it out there.

In Martial Arts there is one type of winner. Not a one hit wonder, but a winner. Someone that has notchs on his belt. The fighter knows when to rush in or play it safe. Everyone learns when they need to. The winner understands his counterpart in the. He tosses him the ball to see what happens. After all, that is the only way to learn about a person. Seeing how they play when the ball is in thier hands.

[Slab]

Taking a deep breath between mouthfuls of food, Brian looked up, though not suddenly. No real look of surprise crossed his face. As mutants without control of their powers, sometimes things went bad. Brian himself had hurt his own father. Though it was in self-defense, or just standing there, being stone, Brian still felt responsible. And there were plenty of people who got caught in the crossfire. No different from people being in the way of a gun going off....sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, it just happened. It was how you dealt with it that defined who you were. Brian dealt with it by going to the right side of things, trying to do the right thing....Like now, helping out a kid who had problems much like the ones that Brian had himself once.

"Wow, that is bad. But if he attacked you, then you are not at fault. You defended yourself, and the rest was accidental. Tell ya what..."

Brian took a gulp of his Coke, finishing off the glass.

"I'll take care of the specifics, if you just come with me. I know of a place where you can recieve help. The same place that helped me years ago. Trust me, it's a nice place..."

Brian flashed a smile at the young kid.

"But first, a name might be a good idea, buddy. Ya got one?"

[Greel]

Rook leads and attacks king. Queen defends King. Retatiate with Bishop attacking Rook. Knight takes Bishop. Retreat to try and protect King. Pawn takes King. Check Mate.

The Bait and Switch. The Prestiege. Slieght of Hand. You look one way and get hit from the other side. Often this happens because you are two comfortable with oneself due to ignorance, stupidity, carelessness, or arrogance.

Greel was none of these. He wanted to be somewhere where he could feel safe. Somewhere where he knew he didn't have to hide. The Bait and Switch. got to be careful you don't get caught in it. When stuff looks to easy...

What did the guys in the sewers call him. What were thier names? Morlocks was it?

Rook attacks King. Queen Protects King. Retatiate with attack on Rook with Bishop. Knight takes Bishop. Queen stays with King. Pawn has to take Queen first. The game is allowed to contenue.

"Greel. I have been called Greel."

[Slab]

Brian nodded.

"I understand. It's a nickname. Fine by me. That way, you're comfortable enough. You want my nickname as well? Or would a full name suit you? 'Cause frankly, I could care less. You could call me Dirty, Old Bastard for all I care...Though that name may not suit well, in polite company..."

Brian smiled, taking another bite of his steak and fries, savoring it.

[Greel]

"I'll call ya old man. Greel is the only name I have now. I read in a blog that I should have a real name. That my flatscan name is like a slave name. Greel is all I am now. Like a true name."

Greel ate more of his burgar. He savored the juice and grease. It was odd how after only a few months can make you almost forget something that you used to have twice a week.

"What is your solution? A hide away? Commute?"

[Slab]

Brian chuckled softly.

"Well, kinda. It's actually more of a school. A school made by mutants, for mutants."

He took a few more bites of his steak, chewing it slowly to let the information sink in for Greel. He chased it up with the refill of Coke that the waitress handed him. He watched with interest as the waitress walked away, her shapely backside swinging. He then turned his attention back to Greel.

"Well, I'm Brian MacLanahan. My nickname is Slab. I work with the X-Men every now and again. I've been with the NYPD for twenty years....and I'm near ready to retire soon. This senior detective crap is goin' nowhere. It's high time I draw on my pension, and I dunno, go fishin' or somethin...You see, I use my position as the resident mutant to gain sympathy for mutants who have committed crimes that were accidental in nature, such as yourself....Provided I get them a means to improve themselves and their situations, the mutants in question usually get off without so much as even a slap on the wrist...It was exactly what old man Cullen did for me all those years ago..."

Brian smiled, dipping a large pinch of fries in some ketchup, and biting into them, chewing away. Man, these fries are good!

[Greel]

Greel didn't smile. He didn't blink. All he could do was taste the tar-like gunk in his mouth. He half contiplated spitting at the guy. He never expermented with it before. He really didn't want to do it now. The mouth is the nastiest part of the body. If the slime from the rest of his body was able to eat through metel and concrete, then he would hate to see what the ones from his mouth would do.

He breathed in through his nose letting the clean air in. After a few moments the taste went away and returned to normal. If thise guy rolled with the
X-men then he had some clout. It would not be a good idea to screw with the guy. He was a cop two. He could get a sketch out quick-like an then Greel would see his face on every corner

"I'm not going to jail man. I have no problem with a school. I would love to learn more about my powers without worry or hurting people. I just am not doing a jail. I will bail on that quick. I don't know for a fact, butI don't think any jail could do much good with me. There are people out there that take people like me. I think they call themselves The Brotherhood, but I would really rather not go that path. The terriost life style is not for me."

[Slab]

"Exactly. You see, you ain't a bad guy; you just got bad genes, like you said. You know, like when someone has a bad temper. Thing is, tempers can be controlled. And so can those bad genes. They can be controlled. It may be difficult; and it may take some time; but it can be controlled. So, let's just finish our meal, and then you can come with me. I'll get ya to Cullen's straightaway. Jail's not on the list of places I intend to take ya, I promise ya that. Wanna shake on that?"

Brian held his right hand out, beside Greel's plate; it was rude to have your hands over someone's plate without at least excusing yourself. Now, if you were passing the rolls, that might've been different, and even then an excuse was proper.

"Don't worry. It won't melt off, man. If that should even begin to happen, I'll rock out, and that will help the situation some."

Brian smiled. He was getting somewhere with the kid.

[Greel]

Rock out. A shifter type like himself. Rock could melt though. Greel had ate through concrete before. He was running for his life then. Had a little want to eat fast. Didn't take long to do it. Again, running his lfe though. Greel took his hand and shaked.

"This school. I got one more year of school left. I want to stay under the radar. I have seen alot of these Collins yahoo's preaching Bible like on the issues. I am not a hero man. I want control, but I don't want to be a secret police. No offence. I don't want to be a dog of war."

[Slab]

Brian nodded.

"The choice is entirely up to you. You don't have to be an X-man, you don't have to sign up for anything. The dangerous missions part is totally voluntary. Hell, you see what I do; I'm a cop. It's 'cause I've always wanted to be one.....just like my pop....God rest his damned soul...I probably coulda done somethin' different, but I chose my path. And bein' an X-Man full time just didn't appeal to me. Sometimes, when called upon, I'll come back to help out, 'cause that's me. Always willin' to help a good cause....But like I said, no obligations, really. Just sign up, have patience, learn to control your powers, learn whatever else you need to learn. I went to my last two years of high school there, and even through college. And they keep ya below the radar. Hell, most don't even know what the place is. I think some sort of force-field or hologram or somethin' keeps the place lookin' inconspicuous...."

Brian finished the last of his steak, and his fries with ease, washing it down with the last of his Coke.

"Man! That was some awesome food. I sure could use some ice cream or somethin'. How 'bout you, Greel?"

[Greel]

"I am good. No ice cream. having sweets if you haven't had any in a while is bad for ya. Kills your somack."

Greel took adeep breath

"Who do I need to talk to? What do I have to do?"

[Slab]

Brian took a sip of the refill of Coke that came his way.

"I'll do most of the talkin'. And I'll be talkin' directly to the man in charge now, Mr. Ethan Daniels. A good guy. Really knows his stuff, and takes good care of the mutants. Now, as for what you have to do: you have to ride with me to the store to get you some decent damn clothes. Then we stop by my place so you can shower and shave. Then, if you're hungry again, a stop for some food. 'Cause you gotta eat. And after that, it's off to Cullen's for a little meet and greet. You worry about the school work, and gettin' that power of your's under control, and I'll worry about the law end of matters. How does that sound, Mr. Greel?"

[Greel]

"Ok, lets met this guy and see what he says."

Greel was not worried about the small stuff. As long as he had somewhere to sleep and was safeish for a few nights. Hell, it may even work out in his favor.