The Devil's Playground

[Vigilante]

She looked at Joe and then back to Mr. Ironwood. "I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn. But when I came in he was playing two people at once on that laptop keyboard in MvC? His reflexes are inhumanly fast."

And her observation skills were pretty sharp too. But that was a learned skill, from her time with the Army Rangers. Ginny unconsciouly buttoned and un-buttoned a button on her jacket, doing her best to took awkward and apologetic.

[Twitch]

"Joseph?" Mr. Ironwood looked at his nephew.

"MvC is Marvel versus Capcom, and yes, I can play as two people at the same time." Joe unpaused the games to demonstrate, casually annihilating the two computer oponents in thirty seconds.

"That is quite a gift." Steven said, a little awed.

"Well, Ms. Hayes, I'm glad you discovered this and not someone else. Joe, you and I are going to have to talk later."

"Uh... ok." Joe was overwhelmed.

"Ms. Hayes." Mr. Ironwood opened the conference room door that led back to his office, and motioned for her to enter.

[Richard B. Howlett]

Working security detail seemed so tedious. Or at least, it seemed so to Richard B. Howlett, one of the security guards on the floor of Smith, Klien, Sax and Ironwood. Richard was used to, or at least most recently, being the other guy, the one that the buildings were being guarded against. Looking at the security detail here, even with a mutant or two hired, a good building breaker or thief could get in and out with little trouble here. Then again, this wasn't a maximum security building; this was just an office building housing several businesses. The need for security was necessary, but not to that same, severe extent. As of right now, this was an end to a mean for Mr. Howlett. A means to make decent money. And this office was close enough to the city limits that it was easy for a being like Mr. Howlett to jog to work everyday, easily. Himself, he preferred the not-so-busy life of the country, or at least the outskirts of the city. He had a small apartment, nothing too fancy. Basic needs. No television. Only a radio, an AM/FM radio with a cassette deck. No CD player. No MP3 player. No Ipod. Just simple, older equipment. He was more of a simple man, with simpler pleasures. He was merely saving up to fix his bike, which he trashed into a ditch about six months ago. It was a wreck that he shouldn't have walked away from. It was an accident that he should not have even come out alive from. Yet he got up, wiped the blood from his brow, reset the broken arm, and held his hands over the flames, absorbing the heat that should've burned him severely. Instead, as the heat absorbed into the skin, the broken and fractured bones began to mend, the meat beginning to close up, the scars fading before they were ever existent. Needless to say, his bike was completely wrecked. He decided to return to a city and begin working to save up money for his bike. He was now doing just that, working as a security guard in a nice skyrise office building, making good money for his work, and paying out even less for his basic accomodations.

Sighing, Mr. Howlett made his way down to the breakroom. Lunch time. Sitting at the small bench in the dimly lit breakroom, Richard opened his lunch and began eating. Three cans of vienna sausages, cheese spread, an entire roll of Ritz crackers, can of fruit cocktail, a chocolate bar, and a bottle of water. The lunch of champions. As he ate, he fished around in his uniform jacket, finding his cigarettes. Winston Full Flavor 100's that he kept in a metal cigarette case. Flipping one out, he reached for his lighter, cigarette hanging limply in his mouth as he ajusts his darkened goggles with his free hand. His search was futile. No lighter. Richard sighed, and looked around. Seeing that he was alone, and the lack of security cameras, and he nodded, bringing his right hand up to his cigarette. Putting the tip of his middle finger to the cigarette's end, he sighed and drew forth from the filter, as the medium between his finger and the loose paper glowed red, the paper catching fire and lighting the fine tobacco inside. The end of the cigarette glowed red with heat and life as the smoke began to rise. Drawing in the smoke into his lungs, Richard exhaled, blowing a plume of smoke into the air. He sighed. He didn't like using one of his powers so openly unless it were necessary. And he wanted a cigarette. It was necessary.

Setting the burning cig into the ashtray off to his left, Richard began to wolf down his food, as if he were some sort of starved animal. In nature, it was eat quickly, or risk losing it to other animals, or having to fight other animals for it. Nature was still winning out....but eventually, Richard began to reason it over, and slowed down eating. He wasn't all animal. Mutants aren't animals.....they were humans; advanced, stronger, different, yet reasoning and cognitive, like humans....And yet they weren't.....Richard kept eating, but at a slower, steady pace. This was good food....

[Vigilante]

Ginny followed Steve Ironwood into his well appointed office, letting him close the door behind her and motion her to a seat. She sat, and crossed her legs as the lawyer took his chair behind his large desk. It held quite a few stacks of paper, some of which he moved to one side as he got comfortable.

"Ms. Hayes, there has been a change in your case." His face was impassive, but he could have been simply thinking about his nephew.

"Oh?" She tried to stay optimistic, but the families of the dead Rangers were determined to drag her through as much hell as possible.

"Yes," Ironwood seemed to come back from far away, and he smiled. "After a year of getting nowhere, they are dropping the suit against you."

Ginny sat there for a moment in silence, and then blinked slowly. "Just like that?"

"Exactly like that." He reached across the desk towards her, and she found herself shaking his hand in a sort of daze. "To be a survivor is hard enough without someone else trying to blame you for the incident. I think that they finally realized that."

[Twitch]

Outside the building, Joe's black Pontiac TransAm WS6 was being towed. Not because he was parked illegally, but because the tow company was owned by the Russian Mob. Inside the car was the original <st1:country-region><st1>Georgia</st1></st1:country-region> lisence plate and the Glock. The Trans Ams were worth towing anyway, even if a innocent owner was caught in the process and pursued action. File away the VINs, and the chassis, body parts and engine/transmission would fetch a good amount of money. As a precaution, the cars would be taken to a holding lot, untouched for 24 hours in case it was equipped with LowJack or a similar device.
<o></o>
Ginny and Ironwood, Esquire continued to close the details of the case and finish organization in case someone else decided to be a total butt and file another suit. Joe occupied himself with Metal Slug 3, although he felt nervous about the entire thing now. His Mother was on the way, and she would make a huge dramatic mess about the missing thing, and then make another huge dramatic mess about his inhuman reflexes. It was one of the reasons his parents got along so well. Mom wasn’t around a lot, and Dad was really practical. He also had a special gift for calming Mom down. He hoped Uncle Steve knew how to keep his sister calm.<o></o>

[Vigilante]

It took nearly half an hour to close up the case, but Ginny remained sitting when they were done. "I'd... I'd like to retain your services, Mr. Ironwood."

He looked up, concern in his eyes. "Certainly, Ginny, I'm here to help you with whatever additional legal issues you may be having."

"Well, I'm not having an issue right now, persay..." her voice trailed off. Now she had his attention, and there was no where to go but forward. "Ah, well, now that the case is finished with... I haven't been truthful with you. The mutant gene is active in me. But everything else is true, of course," she added hastily, "I had nothing to do with the accident. But I... I can teleport. That's why I wasn't killed too - I got myself out of there just in time."