The New Guy [Fritz]

[Kinetix]

Michael sat in the middle of the training room, floating off the ground a few feet. All around him were hundreds of small pebbles he had pulled from the river. For the most part they were all similar if not identical in shape, weight, and quality. They floated in perfect unison, each one foot away from each other vertical and horizontal lines. If there was one thing Michael's ability was not very proficient at, it was precision. The smaller the object, the harder it was to manipulate. Sure, he could block bullets or just bounce them back, but controlling a dozen bullet paths was taxing.

He reached out and mentally felt out a specific rock. Three rows to his left, four back, and two up. Slowly, he worked out which one he wanted. The trouble was not letting the other pebbles move while he messed around with the one.

Someone knocked on the door. The Division leader jumped, losing concentration and being burried in a shallow mountain of pebbles. Michael briefly considered shooting them through the door and effectively shotgunning whoever had the nerve to bother him. Thinking better of it, he pushed the rocks to one side and stood up. "Come in."

[Fritz Stahl]

Fritz Stahl arrived to the HQ of the organization known as Division this morning, and it already became somewhat akin to a minor event. Rarely Human envoy within this facility was sent someone like an overseer, much less a person like this was. A tall, strapping gentleman, in what looked like a strange verse of a military jacket. And the freaky metal half of the face with a red eye. It was obvious from first glance that this was no rudimentary check up.

Fritz was sent to this facility for two reasons. First was, contrary to popular belief, to fill the position of the fighting force of this organization - because the leader, name Michael Rush, seemed to have been overwhelmed with working on his own. Fritz were to take some burden off him, as well as test his own capabilities - the higher-ups were very curious as how he would perform. First in line of cyborg soldiers, but will he be up to stand against even the mediocre mutants?

Second mission was to keep an eye on the mutants of this facility. Sure, they were loyal, for now. But who knows how loyal? They sure didn't. They did not trust powerful mutants, which were most in here. And they needed someone to supervise them. And be able to overtake, should need arise. And on that, they trusted Fritz. He would not defect from them. Not with that chip in his head...

The door opened and the tall cyborg entered the facility. He was around the same height with the leader of the mutant task force, maybe a bit higher even. Well, now he would become a part of that task force. He needed to meet with the commander, if only to introduce himself and discuss some things, eye to eye. Hopefully this guy would not be as allergic to him as pretty much everyone else he met on the way - he seemed to make humans freak out even more than actual mutants, even though he too was a human.

- Guten tag, herr Commandant. - he greeted the other person as he approached. - I was looking all over the place for you. - he stated with a voice devoid of all emotion. Another thing people would get used to around here, it would surely take time though...

[Kinetix]

The door opened, the reinforced metal swung quietly, and a man taller than Michael stepped in. At least he assumed it was a man. At least half of him appeared human. The rest was a polished metal. It looked like steel, but with science being as rapid as a rabbit on coffee, he wouldn't be surprised if it was something else entirely. Regardless, he looked professional. His manner was sharp and...metallic, and his uniform was militaristic. Was this the new Division uniform? The new ones were being hotly debated by the people in PR, so the mutants got to wear whatever they wanted.

The man greeted him with a few words in German. Michael suddenly racked his brain trying to remember. There had been something about a new member transfering in today. It was in vain. All that came to mind was the mountain of paperwork that had yet to be examined. That pile...just sitting there like a bear trap.

The voice was rather robotic and even-toned. Obviously being a cyborg, Michael wondered how much of his body was actually human. Hopefully his brain was. It would be easier that way. He wasn't really bothered by his appearance. Once you've seen a few of the more extreme examples of Epsilon mutations, a half machine man wasn't that bad. Hell, Michael himself had once been forced to blow up a mutant who threatened to detonate in a mall.

"Gut, Sie kennenzulernen. Ich bin Michael Rush. (Good to meet you. I'm Michael Rush.)" Michael knew how to speak a number of languages. His Russian was iffy and his Spanish was god-aweful, but he could at least speak German. His grandmother was German afterall and refused to speak anything else. "You must be the new transfer. I can't remember your name. I know it started with 'F'."

Michael had long since grown immune to embarrassment. Puberty, with his mutation, had not been kind to him. "Let's head to my office. Folgen Sie mir."

He set off to the elevator and stepped inside. Once the man had joined him, he pressed the third floor button with his telekinesis.

[Fritz Stahl]

- That would be true. Mein Name ist Fritz. Fritz Stahl. I am sent here from the government agency I've been assigned to. My task here is to take active duty here, considering your little platoon still lacks in numbers, and to serve as your advisor. And no, I am not a robot. - Fritz explained briefly, as he followed the mutant. He sensed one unspoken question, and replied to it. Again, without any irritation that one could have anticipated, but without any kind of enthusiasm either. Of which Fritz was also aware of.

- I apologize in front for any awkwardnesses and inconveniences that may transpire due to my less than desired mannerisms or manner of speech, or anything else. It cannot be helped I'm afraid. - he apologized for something one really shouldn't apologize for, but that was just him. He did it all the time. Apologizing that is. Fritz frowned a bit when the button was pushed telekinetically, but said nothing. He had an opinion about using weird powers where they should or shouldn't be, but kept them to themselves.

- However, I can assure you those will not hinder me from doing my work efficiently. In the meanwhile, I would appreciate if you give me a short layout on the situation here, considering the division, mutant activity in the city and so on. Then maybe we could start thinking on how to get this organization out of its embryonic state.

[Kinetix]

Michael listened attentively to the man. Fritz was perceptive to say the least. Either that or he knew what questions people often asked. That was probably the case. Michael was often asked if it was him moving things when people weren't looking. People tend to be suspicious of the telekinetic when they can't find their pen.

"Well," said Michael, leaning against the side of the elevator, "as long as you aren't too nosey things should be fine. The younger members might ask you questions. We, I mean mutants, tend to take our abilities at face value. A cyborg is rather strange by comparison."

Fritz then asked about the status of the Division. Not good, that was certain. "In terms of beauracracy we're doing well. You'll find a few mutants in the HR and tech departments. Just a few low-level technopaths and ones with photographic memory. The problem is getting people in the field. A lot of people don't like the idea of joining Division. I could honestly use a few more out patrolling."

The elevator door opened. Michael walked out adn made his way across the floor to his office. It was a modest room with a desk, chairs, a coffee maker in the corner, and a few file cabinets. Michael quickly moved all the accumulated papers off his desk and on the cabinets in neat little stacks before Fritz could see. "You want coffee?"

Michael motioned towards the machine and let the machine brew. He sat behind his desk, breathing out a little as he settled into the rouch cushions. "Take a seat."

As he said the words, he prepared to catch Fritz in case his cybernetic components were too heavy for the furniture.

[Fritz Stahl]

- The Division should start recruiting then. It will not fulfill its purposes if underpowered, and the job of apprehending mutants would fall to police, who tend to have "accidents", which do not exactly help with the noble goal of pacifying both parties, who loathe each other equally. - Fritz made an observation. There was something funny in his words, as if like he did not consider himself belonging to either party, and, from a certain perspective, that was true. He was more machine than man.

As they finally reached the office and entered, Fritz closed the door behind. The room was nice enough, and the chair was comfy. The cyborg did not break anything when sitted, sure, he was heavy, but not THAT heavy. Some fat people were probably heavier than he was. However, when the commander offered him a cup of coffee, he unfortunately, had to refuse, no matter how much he wanted to.

- I'd love to, ... if I could. Unfortunately, my digestive system has been ... replaced. - he stated unwaveringly. Indeed, they have replaced pretty much everything they could, to make room for wires or just plain plating - a shot in his guts would have a fair chance of ricocheting. Means of giving the remaining organic body nutrients required for sustaining it were ... unnatural. If they could, they would remove that part also, leaving only a brain cased in a metal shell, But they were not that advanced ... yet.

- Trying to find recruits among the lesser mutants is a lost cause I am afraid. They live in the slums and lead an existence in misery because of the human society, and they see Division as their top enforcer, and you - as traitors. Their powers must also be not very noteworthy, otherwise they would have found a way to use them to their own benefit and climb out of that pit of the world. The stronger mutants, the ones we need, often lead a semi-decent life, and it is them who we should invite to work for us. - the cyborg made a pause, before explaining his though further.

- Some of these may have already settled down, maybe even having families, and children. Our offer, aside from a hefty pay and obvious benefits from joining, could also include paying for said children' future tutelage, and overall protection from possible hazards that come with being a mutant's family. Considering acts of "casting justice" and purging entire families of mutants are alarmingly increasing, that would be a very good argument for joining. It would also cement their loyalty to the organization, because should said mutant become astray, their family could immediately become a target...

[Kinetix]

They would get along well. Fritz was a thinker and a plotter. Granted a little long-winded, but that was forgivable considering everything. Michael was intelligent as well, but he rarely had the patience or time to think up long-term plans. When his coffee was done, he floated it over and dropped a small bit of chocolate into the steaming mug, which had 'World's #1 Dad' painted on it by his wife.

Then Fritz started hypothesizing a plan for recruiting new members. He spoke in generalities, much to Michael's discomfort. On numerous occassions he had come across Gamma and Beta mutants in the slums, much to his surprise and pain. Mutants in better conditions did tend to have more controllable powers, but they also tended to be more subtle. He didn't bring these points up though since they were, in fact, more exceptions than decent statistics.

Instead he decided to broach a more specific topic. That is, once Fritz decided to let him speak. "I might have an idea for our first recruit...more of a re-recruitment."

Michael rolled back and started rummaging through his files. Eventually he pulled out a decently thick envelope and handed it over to Fritz. "That's Charlotte Frost, also known as Nightlocke. She's a former Alpha-level Division mutant who recently managed to...'retire.' She had some kind of mental breakdown and went rogue. We're currently tracking her. Charlotte would be a valuable asset, but...bringing her in would be, shall we say, sehr lästig (very troublesome)."

[Fritz Stahl]

- In...deed? - Fritz asked slowly, his gaze being directed on some spot on the table, blank and emotionless. He simply did not find anything better to do while he was listening to Michael's words about an alpha mutant that went rogue. The cyborg mused why nobody was sent to eliminate her in a way Division always did in such cases. Though, mental breakdown might have served as justification of such ... mercifulness. If the mutant decided to betray them on purpose, it would have received no mercy. No pity.

- Troublesome is a matter of perception and one's abilities. What is hard to one person may be a cakewalk for another. Charlotte Frost. I have not heard of her. What kind of abilities she has? Are they worth the trouble you mentioned, which we will have to go through on recapturing her? - he asked, slowly redirecting his scanning glare to the commander. He still had a few somethings to discuss with him, but only after this case is settled with.

Fritz remembered everything he recorded within his brain about this person sitting opposite to him, Michael Rush, 30 years old. Married, has a wife and a newborn son. Peerless record. Never found suspected in treasonous activities. Merciless to rogue mutants. This was quite a resume. Why would the higher-ups suddenly worry themselves so much about loyalty of organization lead by this man? Worried enough to send someone like him to supervise the whole ordeal? Maybe reports were not matching the actual state of affairs? He'd have to probe that.

- Tell me, commander, what is your take on the whole mutant crisis in general? - Fritz asked, voice did not betraying a hint of curiosity. He must have not been a strong conversationalist, his pattern of speech was more dull and monotonic that talking to a bank computer terminal. But, however, he also had his own view on the whole situation, being just curious how muchly the commander's view will match his...

[Kinetix]

Michael has a newborn son named Victor.

Nightlocke's powers. Michael took a sip of his coffee. The melted chocolate had added just the right amount of sweetness. "Nightlocke can create plasma. Also stuff like lightning and forcefields. Basically just a lot of nasty energy-based abilities. It's the worst kind of power for me to fight, to be honest."

Michael took another drink of his sweet yet bitter drink, letting the warm beverage slip down his throat. Fritz was thinking about something. There were no visual indicators, but Michael had been around enough people to know the difference between the types of silences. He asked what Michael thought about the whole state of mutants.

What kind of question was that? An obvious baiting question if he'd ever heard one. What did he think? He was a successful mutant working for the government with a loving family. In all honesty there was not reason for him to personally give a crap.

But he did give a crap. He didn't stay until three in the morning just for giggles. He didn't take a double-patrol for the scenery. And he certainly didn't volunteer to hunt down the most dangerous mutants because he liked risking his neck. "It's manageable for now. I think if we give it time, mutants will come to accept registration as the norm. Society will adjust to mutants. Either that or they'll come up with a cure. I can't say I'm happy with the poor and the downtrodden, and that goes for regular humans as well, but I have too much paperwork to worry about them as well. You want to know what I think? I think this is the calm before the storm, the calm before some mutant does something stupid and ruins it for the rest of us."