(Note: this story takes place between the events of New Kid in Town, part 2 and part 3, and before the Bachelor Auction in TCQ)

Le Mastre's Park, Hudson City's answer to New York's Central Park lay under a thick blanket of snow. The trees were bare, limbs heavy with layers of ice and snow. The air was crisp and still. Lights dotted the darkness, newly installed lamp posts along the Park's walk ways and bike paths, each a small oasis amongst the palpable darkness of a starless, moonless night. The park was hushed, the silence lay as heavy as the snow. There was a sense of menace to the air, danger in the darkness.

A shape moved through the darkness from oasis to oasis, hugging the perimeter but not breaching the soft bubble of light. The shape resolved itself into a man shaped smear of darkness against an even darker backdrop. The man moved quickly and erratically, the panicked flight of prey desperately trying to flee it's hunter. The sounds of its passage, every muffled crunch through virgin snow, every soft sob of fear, every ragged, burning breath, and frightened heart beat exploded in the prey's own ears, but was quickly devoured by the hungry stillness of the night. 

Every panicked glance backward showed frightening shadows, dark twisted shapes of blackness against blackness, unrecognizable under the layer of ice and snow and unrelieved darkness, the stuff of nightmares. The fleeing man could see no sign of his pursuer, no movement in the blackness, but he could feel it, the sheer presence, the feral intensity. He knew the beast still followed him, hunted him. He knew if he didn't get out of the park soon, he'd be caught, and may not ever make it out. He knew the name of his pursuer, knew what might be done to him if he was caught. 

A small sob escaped him, and he clapped his hands over his mouth reflexively to stifle any further outbursts, his back against a tree, the effects of the drug fading... fading...

Overhead, the cracking of ice-sheathed branches. His terrified gaze shot upwards, but there was nothing there. Nothing he could see at any rate. And then from behind and off to his left, just behind a public bathroom - was that a sound? Was something moving? The pitiful light from the lamp post just outside the squat brick building revealed nothing but soft mounds of snow. No tracks. No signs of pursuit.

But he was out there. The man knew it like he knew his own name. Like he thought he'd known his own future before the drug came into his life and scattered it like a child's Leggo set, bits and pieces strewn who knows where, never to be recovered. 
 
**************
Mason drew in a deep breath through his nose, wincing slightly at the burn as the frigid February air crystalized in his nostrils. He caught the sickly sweet scent of decay lingering in the crisp night air. The smell he'd come to associate with a user of the Cartel cocktail. He'd been following it for a few minutes, ever since he'd come across the trail of broken snow amongst the trees. The odor was mixed with the scent of unwashed body, human waste, and another odd scent, fear. Overwhelming panic, judging by the strength of the pheromones.

With lithe grace, Mason moved through the trees, tracking the person making the trail. Silent and hidden, his body flowed from shadow to shadow, as if he'd strolled under a noon sun. He spared a thought towards the cold, thankful he'd insulated his costume. Between the insulation and his higher than normal body temperature, he was almost comfortable.

His mind flickered to the last time he'd encountered a scent like this. Two nights ago. The night he'd discovered Phi's secret and saved her life doing so. Not that she'd admit it of course. Ophilia Di Santiago would never admit to needing saved, even to herself. The fact that she was hell bent on being an active part of the Conquistador's, heedless of the dangers, still bothered Mason, just as did the revelation that her powers were more than just mind tricks. He'd not felt able to tell her about his abilities, nor she hers. It felt a little like a betrayal, on both sides. 

He wondered how much of that was due to who they were, their family names and obligations. Mason shook off his thoughts focusing again on the trail he was following. The trail of scents had become stronger, fresher. He was catching up. He put more effort into moving stealthily, relying on his body's superhuman agility and strength, to move like a predator through the night.

....

Jedidiah pushed forward, nerves burning, head pounding. It was getting harder to focus now, the pools of light cast by the new lamp posts flickered oddly in place, or swam in and out of focus like ghostly fish. He needed more! The crash was coming, it was coming hard and -

"Jedidiah."

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest, the sweat freezing along his spine. There, in front of him! Standing in a pool of flickering light, yellow eyes nailing Jedidiah to the spot like a moth pinned to a display board. He was dressed like they all dressed down Below, in odds and ends and cast offs and hand-me-downs: a dirty brown trench coat over a black hoodie, faded blue jeans and sneaks. Half gloves that left the long fingers exposed, nails gleaming like shards of glass at the tips. A black stocking cap covered his dark hair, leaving the pale face exposed to the cold.

Oh fuck.

"Who gave it to you?" the voice fluid and musical, but not warm at all. Never warm, that voice. If a shark could sing, this is what it would sound like. "Who!" A near bark, loud in the still night. A flash of pointed incisors as the lip curled back.

****

Mason had quickly caught up to his quarry. A slight breeze blown up during the silent chase and Mason had circled around so he could approach from down wind. The stench of fear and decay had been steadily spiking, but Mason had caught a new scent in the air as he closed the distance. It carried some of the same overtones as his quarry, those that Mason had come to recognize as inherent in the homeless. However, there was something else, a scent similar to his own. Something human, but feral at the same time, instead of fear, or the desperation that he normally picked up from the homeless of the city, there was a sense of power, anger, quite unlike anything he'd encountered so far. 

Mason crept to the edge of the clearing, staying low to the ground, and moving with the stealth of a hunting leopard. The sharp bark of a command broke the silence surrounding them, and Mason could smell the fear of his quarry ratchet another notch. 

It was time to intercede. Mason broke cover and strode purposefully into the clearing, tense and ready for action. He picked out the two figures easily, by scent, his quarry was the one cowering against a tree, the other unknown apparently menacing him. Mason squared his broad shoulders, feeling the tight leather of his costume jacket stretch across his tense muscles. 

"Enough!" He called, his voice a rough growl of command. "What is going on here?"

Jedidiah ran, a rabbit bolting for its warren, fueled by the last vestiges of the cocktail in his system, and a faint Pandoran promise that whoever had just shown up would distract him long enough for Jedidiah to get away. 

For a moment there was nothing but the muted thuds of the fleeing man's feet in the snow, and the far away sound of late night traffic on the 45, just outside the park. The stranger turned to face Mason, hands twitching in irritation, nails like clear glass reflecting the dim light in tiny diamond shapes. Yellow eyes, birds eyes, glared up at the much taller socialite-turned-vigilante, then narrowed. 

"Go away." The voice held an accent that Mason had never encountered before, melodious but off-key at the same time. 

Mason's eyes narrowed, their emerald green flashing in the light, the slitted pupil a slash of ebony against the gem-like gleam. He felt his own claws slide out, a visceral response to the threatening pose adopted by the stranger. He hunched forward a little, weight on the balls of his feet. The action was instinctive, and despite lowering his height, he seemed to swell, appearing larger than he was a few moments ago.

"This is my park." Mason declared. His voice wasn't guttural, but the force of it was definitely feral. The light had given him a clear shot at his original quarry, and he'd recognized him. Jedidiah, one of the city's homeless. Jedidiah had been a regular visitor to his shelter, that is until a few days ago. Jedidiah had his problems, but his drug of choice was alcohol. How he'd gotten mixed up with the cocktail was something that Mason needed to follow up on. The homeless of the city were his chosen responsibility,  and no one was going to prey on them while he could help it.

Jedidiah's flight caused problems, but this threatening stranger need to be taken care of first. "Who are you, and what do you want with Jedidiah?" He asked, his entire bearing demanding an answer. The smaller man snorted, a "whuff!" of air that conveyed irritation and dismissal.

"Above..." he grumbled, shaking his head. "Mine. Mine. Always mine." He turned on his heel, dismissing Mason with one final appraising golden look, and ran after the fleeing Jedidiah, footsteps sure and solid on the slippery ground. There was none of Mason's feline grace to the man, whoever he was, but he ran fast. Mason had no doubt that it would take the stranger very little time at all to catch up with the strung out homeless man. 

Mason took a stunned breath. He'd never been dismissed so completely in all of his life. Especially since he'd acquired his powers. He'd always commanded attention, with his name, his looks, and since the infusion his feral nature had often been enough to cow some of the lesser willed into submission. this was the first time he'd ever been dismissed, as if he was inconsequential.

That didn't sit well with the socialite's ego. Not one bit. He burst after the strange man with the bird eyes, knowing full well that with the speed the man had just displayed, there was no way Mason could catch him. He just hoped he could get catch up before Jedidiah ended up worse off than he already was.

**

He had almost reached the wrought iron gates of the parks entrance when he was caught, lifted from behind by his jacket, and tossed unceremoniously into a snow drift head first. He'd had time for a strangled scream before everything went dark, wet and cold, his mouth full of gritty snow. He twisted about, flailing with arms and legs until he'd righted himself and pawed at his face, trying to clear the snow from his vision. 

Then he wished he hadn't. 

He was standing there, breathing hard, breath whooshing out in plumes in the freezing night air, sun-gold eyes full of disgust. The drug had left Jedidiah, its power spent. He could feel the tightening of the major muscles of his arms and legs beginning, his vision becoming pinched as his body began to cycle into the crave. So fast now, so very fast, and the worst of it yet to come. 

"I didn't do nuthin!" he squeaked, ashamed at how high-pitched and womanish his voice sounded. He moved backwards on elbows and feet, more snow working its way inside the loose waist of his pants - his shoes. "Honest man, I didn't!" 

"Lies." 

A hand flashed out, gathering a fist full of Jedidiah's jacket, lifting him effortlessly out of the snow and sending him up and out, to land in a crumpled, sliding heap on the ice-covered ground. Jedidiah saw stars as his head bounced off the frozen ground, and for a moment he thought he was going to black out. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring back down the path into the park he'd just run up. Saw another man with wicked claws and emerald eyes come running into view. 

He wanted to cry. Another one? There was another one? Or was it a user like himself? Goddamn, but they were coming out of the woodwork these days! Maybe... just maybe... 

"Help!" he managed to croak, not sure who he was asking for assistance, really. It was all he could think of to do. "I can hook you up man! Get you more! Just help me with HIM!" He spat out a twig and tried to look pitiful and helpless. 

Msaon picked up the panic in Jedidiah's voice. The offer didn't appeal to him, but he planned to let Jedidiah know that after the stranger was dealt with. Besides, If Jedidiah had a source, and he survived the crash, Mason now had a lead on how to stop the distribution of the lethal drug.

The chase had been short, but hard. The freezing night air made every breath a trial, and the snow made every step that much harder. By the time he'd caught up, Mason felt a little winded, but nothing serious. He was definitely annoyed though, and was looking for an outlet. The new guy looked like a perfect target. 

"You want him? You go through me." Mason growled in challenge, stopping between Jedidiah and the stranger.  He gave Jedidah a glance full of heat and command. Don't Move. 

"thankyouthankyouthankyou," breathed Jedidiah behind him, a pleading relief, a prayer... Mason saw the dilation of the pupils, the flushed skin - the crash was coming for Jedidiah hard and fast. Mason could smell the sour/sweet smell of the cocktail on the mans breath, in his pores, the cold giving the odor an edge of bitter clarity. 

"Why?" Mason's opponent said, eying him curiously. It was obvious the stranger was agitated, the long fingered hands were still twitching, opening and closing in frustration, and now the man was beginning to move, slowly circling to the left, avian gaze never leaving Mason's face. But Mason didn't get the sense that an attack was imminent. "You are Above. We are Below. This is not yours." 

The oddness of speech was more noticeable now - the words tumbling out almost as song, inflections on vowels there and then gone. But there was a firmness of conviction present in his tone that made Mason think of... himself, really, in his Archon persona. This man was one hundred percent sure that what he said was fact, and that to argue with him would be to question gravity, or the need to breathe. And there was no warmth there. None at all. 

Mason followed his movements, turning with him, keeping himself between the stranger and Jedidiah. "Because I can. Because someone has to." Mason's words were just as sure, his manner just as confident. "I'm not sure what you mean by above and below, but I choose to aid people like Jedidiah, because if I don't then they're just prey, meat for anyone stronger, more affluent than they are. Not anymore!"

Masons last words were spit with the intensity of an oath, the conviction of almost religious fervor. This was the core of his Le Mastre's Park initiative, to protect the unfortunate, to give hope to the depairing, to repair the damage caused by the social elite, and corrupt of this city. He'd been given a second chance at life, and he'd be damned if he wasted it. His emerald eyes flared with the intensity of his conviction.

The man stopped and looked at Mason cooly, head tilting first one way, than the other. "You didn't help me." The pale face was expressionless in the freezing air, the eyes constantly moving, focusing and re-focusing. The man gestured at Mason, nails glittering. "You dress like them. Con-keest-ah-doors." He spat on the ground at his feet, as though the word was toxic and he was glad to be rid of it. "Pretty. Useless. Bad." 

Behind Mason, Jedidiah moaned.

"The clothes don't make the man." Mason replied, with a sneer. His 'costume' was basically a set of custom fit motorcycle leathers, in muted black and greys to better aid his stealth, and a stylized domino mask as a nod to protecting his identity.  Nothing as elaborate as what Phi had dredged up for her team. "If I had known you needed help, I would have. As for the Conquistadors. I'm not a member. Their focus isn't mine." Mason could smell the pain in Jedidiah. The sickly sweet odor of the drug was fading, replaced with the salty tang of sweat and decay. He could hear Jedidiah's body scraping against the ice covered ground in what was surely the onset of heavy convulsions as his body tried to tear itself apart in withdrawal. 

This has to end now, or I'm going to lose Jedidiah. Mason thought. "I don't know who you are, you don't know me. All I know is Jedidiah needs help now, and I need to find out who gave him this drug so I can prevent them from giving to anyone else. We can fight for him, we can go our separate ways, or ... If what I sense about you is true,  we can work together. The choice is yours, but you'd better choose quickly because he's not going to last much longer."

"Fight? You? For him? Why?" the stranger asked, eyes flicking to where Jedidiah lay behind Mason, then back again. "You don't come into the Below. You stay Above. And you claim you are help us." Again the swipe of a clawed hand through the air. "I have not seen you. We do not know you." A strangled cry from Jedidiah, a wet, sucking sound. The stranger moved forward, cautiously, pushing up the sleeve of his jacket, a look of disgust on his face. "It's time to fix him. Or he'll pass. Die. Then come questions. He'll tell," a look at Mason as he went to move past him, "tell us where it comes." 

Again with the Above, and Below. As if they're places not adjectives. Mason was getting confused. At least the stranger seemed less threatening towards Jedidiah, but that could change. Best to stay on his guard. He moved to block the stranger. The vagabond meta stopped as soon as Mason blocked him, staring up, yellow-gold to emerald-green, both mens breath fogging out in the chill night air.

"I don't understand the phrase Above, or Below. I claim to help you because I keep the parks clean of people who prey on the helpless, I provide shelter to the needy, food to the hungry, Medical attention for the injured and sick, as I find them. I do it because it needs done.

I will allow no more harm to come to him." Mason said. "If you can help him somehow good, otherwise we take him to a hospital where he can get the aid he needs. Deal?"

"Allow." Scorn evident in the other mans voice. "It is past you for that. I can fix it, but I'll have to soon or he'll end." Focus and re-focus. Focus and re-focus. It almost seemed as if the other man viewed the world through a pair of golden cameras, the lenses constantly on the move. Mason almost thought he could hear the whirring as the strangers eyes shifted and danced, soaking in the world around them in what had to be 1080p HD.

"Move." The man stepped forward, towards the writhing form of Jedidiah. 

Mason hesitated, the hairs on his neck bristling in response to the others blatant scorn. His jaw muscles clenched as he fought back a growl of challenge. His feral nature wanted to assert itself, but his intelligence fought against it, realizing the stranger was correct. They could waste time seeing who could piss higher on the bush, and Jedidiah's body would rip itself apart, while they established who was dominant. 

Mason didn't move out of the way, but he didn't block the stranger's path either. It was as close to capitulation as he could force himself to display. 

The stranger brushed past Mason and knelt next to the moaning, thrashing, sweating mess that Jedidiah had become. He stripped the glove from his right hand, the flesh of his hand and arm pale in the dim light. Goosebumps rose along his arm, the one he'd bared just moments ago. The look of disgust on his face deepened, the mans nose wrinkling at the smell pouring from Jedidiah - sour and rank.

"I will hold him. Make him not move," the man said, placing a his gloved hand on Jedidiah's shoulder and pushing the man prone with ease, despite the squirming and wiggling and bucking. So, Mason noted, he's stronger than he looks. The stranger then straddled Jedidiah, knees over both shoulders, sitting on the struggling mans chest. Then the stranger bit into his own palm, hard. Blood welled, black in the stark light, steaming.

The stranger then lifted his left knee enough to free Jedidiah's arm, bringing the mans hand up towards his own. A quick slash across the homeless mans palm with those glittering nails, and then the hands were clasped together. "You will heal," the stranger whispered to Jedidiah. "And then you will tell us. Yes, you will tell us of all the things. The drug.." 

Mason growled a warning when the coppery tang of blood filled the air, but managed to restrain himself from attacking, barely. He suspected something about the stranger's blood had healing properties, similar to his own. He didn't like it, but the alternative could easily cost Jedidiah his life.

A minute passed. And then another. As the frozen seconds tumbled past, Jedididiah's convulsions began to slow. Occasionally, the stranger would re-open the wounds on both their hands, but other than that he made no other moves - said nothing. He just peered down at the man beneath him distastefully until Jedidiah fell still, breathing going from labored, to strained, to strong and steady, limbs quiet upon the snow. 

Mason could hear Jedidiah's heart beat, slow and even out. His scent lost the bite of fear, and some of the foul scent of decay from the drug. Whatever the stranger had done, it had obviously helped. Mason stayed alert, but some of the tension began to ease. Perhaps the stranger did care about the underprivileged of the city.

"He'll sleep," the stranger said, rising to his feet and stepping away from the snoring homeless man. "We'll take him Below." He pulled his sleeve down and put the glove back on a hand that showed no sign of injury. The cut had healed. Around them, a light snow began to fall, the sound of it a gentle hiss to Mason's enhanced hearing. It smelled clean, like cotton sheets fresh from the wash - like sunlight in spring. The stranger in the grubby clothes bent down and scooped up Jedidiah, cradling him close. "Follow me." Then he turned and began walking towards the park entrance, his steps sure and unhurried. 

Mason moved easily with the stranger, his senses alert. "I am called Archon. Who are you?" He asked the stranger carrying Jedidiah.

"Adam," said Adam. "What is Archon?" They moved past the gates and towards a nearby underpass. Above them, cars occasionally flew by on the 45. 

"Archon is a name, or title, I've taken as protector. It used to mean ruler, in ancient languages, but has devolved to indicate one who is sworn to promote and defend the rights, well-being and traditions of a group of people. I have sworn to protect and defend the rights, traditions, and well-being of the disenfranchised of this city. I do this in many ways, from patrolling the streets at night, to supporting programs that better the circumstances of the needy, from shelters to food distribution." 

Adam snorted. "How long?" he asked, as they passed under the highway and then crossed the street at the light. There were no cars waiting, and the pair moved along up the slushy road under skeletal black trees devoid of leaves. A light breeze ruffled their clothing, and snatched at the steam of their breath. Jedidiah continued to snore, deep in sleep. 

Mason was quiet a few moments, aware of how poorly his answer would sound. "It's been less than six months that I've been actively involved. But ... peripherally for years. It was only recently that I became able to do more than throw money at the problem. Money that I discovered never made it where it was supposed to go." 

"I will ask. I will check," Adam replied. He stopped at the next intersection and pointed towards the place where the cross-streets intersected, glassine nail gleaming red in the glow of the stoplight that swung gently above them. "Below," he said, turning to face Mason. "My place. Our place. There we get answers." 

Mason's eyes followed the strangers gesture, and saw, nothing. He glanced at his odd companion, confusion filling his eyes, then back to where he pointed. There was nothing there, it was an intersection. Then he saw it. In the center of the intersection was a manhole cover. Things began to click.

Below, it had to refer to the maze of tunnels and sewers beneath the city. Was there a sizable population down there? If so, he suspected his efforts so far hadn't even scratched the surface of what was necessary.

Adam smiled, more a baring of teeth than anything, and barked out a laugh. "You don't know. But you will." He moved quickly out into the street, knelt by the manhole cover, and easily hooked it open with one clawed hand. He'd slung Jedidiah over his shoulder. He set the cover down with a muffled thunk of metal on concrete, then stood and gestured at Mason. "Down." 

Down. Into unknown terrain, at the mercy of this unknown meta. Mason's feral nature, the part that thought in terms of the three F's, fighting, feeding and fucking, warned against it. However, Mason had long since learned to control that nature and over rode it. If it came to a fight, Mason felt sure he could handle himself. Besides, they were erstwhile allies, their paths convergent for the moment.

If there truly was a sizable populous of homeless in the warren of tunnels and sewers below this city and he was truly dedicated on his chosen path of protection and assistance, then Mason needed to know what he was dealing with. He needed to know the extent of his territory and make sure those he intended to help knew he was their protector, not another hunter. 

He nodded once to Adam, and lowered himself into the darkness below. He dropped into a crouch and quickly surveyed his surroundings. He found himself in a dark tunnel at the foot of a set of metal rungs. The rungs led up to the manhole, through which Adam was now descending. It was very dark, almost pitch black - no problem for his own enhanced eyesight of course - and it reeked of cold and mildew and other smells best not thought of.  Jedidiah's body tumbled down and landed with an ungainly splash in the filthy water at his feet, startling him as the grating sound of Adam pulling the manhole cover back into place above rattled around him. 

Mason was surprised by the splash caused by Jedidiah. He'd expected Adam to hand him down, not just drop him like a sack of grain. Cursing loudly, Mason knelt in the foul runoff and lifted Jedidiah's head out of the water, looking him over for injuries at the same time he kept him from drowning.

The homeless man was snoring loudly and seemed to be unhurt from his short fall. Adam dropped solidly down next to Mason, scooped up the slumbering user, and began to move purposefully down the tunnel, feet splashing noisily in the chill and filthy stream that ran down the center of the floor. All around was the sound of dripping water and, above, the occasional rumble of traffic. They went through miles of these tunnels, service passages and sewage channels, all dark, all damp.

Having no frame of reference, Mason soon lost track of where they were in relation to the city above. This made him slightly nervous. The periodic presence of ladders leading up to man-hole covers told Mason that they hadn't dropped any further into the network of tunnels that was supposed to honey-comb the depths below Hudson city. They were still in the service and run off tunnels which meant Mason wasn't trapped, just lost.  

Occasionally they would pass a single fellow traveler, wrapped against the chill and damp and carrying a small light source. A candle or a small flashlight, the light sources gleamed and danced in the modified eyes of the two men, cat-like and eerie. Twice they passed small groups. Each time a path was made for them, and nobody spoke a word. Those they encountered just watched with eyes grown wary, or weary, or sometimes even scary - mad eyes revealing broken minds. 

The relative lack of people as they traveled belied Adam's earlier suggestion of a sizable population in the tunnels 'below'. Mason suspected either he'd overestimated the population, or Adam was purposefully keeping him away from the main population.  Mason smiled. He couldn't blame Adam, he'd have done the same thing if their positions were reversed. It would take more than a casual meeting and a few words to make Mason trust him enough to bring the man into his home and amongst his family and friends.

At a point that looked just like a dozen others, in front of a red brick archway no different from those they'd already passed, Adam stopped. "In here," he said in his cold, sing-song. "We will talk." 

Mason nodded, simply and smiled warily. "After you, this is after all, your territory."

"Not mine," Adam replied moving into a narrow tunnel. "Ours." Mason got the impression that he wasn't part of the ours that Adam was referring to. The pair moved perhaps a hundred feet down the sloping narrow tunnel, their shoulders nearly brushing the walls. It opened out into a square chamber perhaps a dozen feet on a side. There was no light, no obvious ventilation even. Just the room, a couple of beat-up wooden chairs and an army cot that had seen better decades. Adam dumped Jedidiah on the cot unceremoniously, then squatted down next to him, back against the wall. He pulled something out of a pocket and light bloomed in the narrow room from a small black flashlight that he set butt-end upon the ground. The beam painted the ceiling with a ring of feeble yellow light, revealing damp, crumbling brickwork. 

"Not long now. He will wake up." Adam said into a silence broken only by the soft snores of Jedidiah. And it was silent in the room, the air still and cool. Not freezing like outside, but the chill of a cave or cellar. Adam was staring at Mason from his hunched position next to the cot, brows lowered, his pupils mere dots in a sea of gold. Mason had taken up station across from the strange meta-human, at the foot of the cot. He leaned casually against the walk, arms folded across his chest. The position allowed him swift access to Jedidiah should Adam get rough, and a view of the door they'd just come through. The socialite wondered what purpose this room originally served; it's position down the long tunnel seemed odd, and it was fairly small, with no obvious ventilation or power lines and only one way in or out.

Who knew? 

Jedidiah's snores stopped abruptly, and the man snorted and coughed his way back to consciousness. He sat up on the cot and blinked owlishly at Mason. "Where are we?" Then he realized that Adam was crouched less than a foot away. "Oh no..." he whispered, scrambling across the cot to get closer to Mason. "Don't let him kill me!", he begged.

Mason snapped off the wall as soon as Jedidiah started moving towards him. He was obviously very scared of Adam and this was the second time Jedidiah had asked to be saved from him. "No one is going to hurt you as long as you answer the questions we ask." Mason replied softly. He could play the good cop to Adam's obvious threat. He didn't like it, but he could do it. "However, if you lie to us, ..." Mason let his voice trail off as he purposefully looked at Adam, the threat unspoken. 

Silently he cursed himself because he knew there was no way he'd allow anymore harm to come to Jedidiah. Even if it meant taking on Adam on his own turf. He met Adam's strange dilating gaze with his own and allowed his beast, the feral part of him to rise into his eyes, warning the other that he meant his words.

Adam snorted, his focus solely on Jedidiah. If he'd noticed Mason's statement, he made no acknowledgment of it. "If killing I wanted, you," he ran a clawed finger across the air before his throat. "Stupid man. Talk. You are clean. No more drug. I cleaned you. I will know you now, always. Find you anywhere." He brought both hands together before him, intertwining his fingers. "We are one." He spat on the ground in front of him, distaste twisting his features. "No more drug for you, ever, or I know." Then he rose, hands twitching at his sides. "Where do you get drug, Jedidiah. Tell me." 

"Oh Christ," Jedidiah breathed. He felt it then, or rather he didn't feel it. The crash was gone, the craving dead. Even his breathing was better. The freak had done something to him, and the other guy had let him. He was screwed. He slumped back down on the bed, his face in his hands. "I can't tell you that. You know I can't. They'll kill me if  I turn them in." He sounded miserable, and felt worse.

"I will take you to the doctor." Adam replied in his strange sing-song. "Hyperion will know you. Keep you safe. Hide you better. Talk!" the last word a bark.

Jedidiah jumped at the shout.

"I can't!" he pleaded, looking up into Adam's pale face. "You don't know them. What they'll do!"

Mason growled. This wasn't the growl of a man pretending to be an animal but the throaty growl of something bestial. They both had forgotten he was in the room and that was about to change. Mason brought his beast to the fore; allowed it to fill his mind, his eyes. His eye teeth, normally just slightly protruding, slid further out to become fangs; his hands clenched and opened, with wicked looking claws suddenly apparent at the tips of his fingers.  

"Jedidiah." he said simply, forcing the man's attention to him by sheer force of words. "Tell us what we want to know. Now!"
Command, unyielding expectation of obedience, and silent threat all oozed off of Mason, who suddenly seemed much larger than before. Mason knew Jedidiah had to be more afraid of them than he was of the dealers. Since Jedidiah was already afraid of Adam, it was time to up the ante.

Adam regarded Mason warily, noting the physical changes, studying him.

The response from Jedidiah however was far more immediate and gratifying. "Samuel Dang! He's the cook! The cook at Jade Delight! I meet him around 3 in the afternoon and run some errands for him and that's when he gives me the stuff!" The words tumbled out like white water over boulders, Jedidiah's immediate fear of Mason overcoming whatever fear he may have had of Dang. "It's Dang! He's the one you want! I just hand it out man, I just hand it out!" 

Mason rolled his shoulders forward, forcing himself to relax as he pulled the beast back. His slitted eyes lost some of their intensity and his fangs receded slightly, becoming once again just abnormally long eye teeth. Mason unclenched his hands and the claws slid back, becoming unassuming fingernails again.

The beast rolled once inside him the stench of Jedidiah's fear washed over the room, but Mason forced it back down until he seemed to shrink slightly into himself, a less forceful presence than before. He smiled warmly at Jedidiah.

"Thank you, now was that so hard?" he asked rhetorically. Mason turned his gaze to Adam, keeping his face a mask of warmth and friendliness. "Now that we have the information we need to proceed, Jedidiah needs to be made safe against their reprisals. Can you ensure his safety, as you promised?"

"I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm so dead." Jedidiah breathed.

"No promise." Adam replied simply. "Never promise. Promises are Above words, mean nothing." He settled once more into a crouch by the bed. "I will take him to Hyperion. The doctor will do it. The best he can to be safe." Avian eyes flicked to Jedidiah. "You come with me. Then you have to go away. Far. Cannot be found but by me."

Jedidiah nodded, mutely, tears staining the grime of his face. "I aint got a choice now." 

"No." Adam agreed. Then he took the flashlight from the floor and handed it to Jedidiah. "Go to Hyperion. You know where." 

The trembling man took the light, his hand darting out and back as though he was afraid of being burned or bitten. "Hyperion," Adam repeated. "Not Dang. I know if you go to Dang." The homeless ex-junkie nodded. "Yeah, I get it, I'm screwed." He rubbed the snot away from his nose with the back of a gloved hand and stood there, waiting for Mason to move.

"You let us worry about Dang, and his suppliers. Do as Adam says, stay clean and get your shit together." Mason said as he moved out of Jedidiah's way. He should feel bad about what he'd done, but Jedidiah had brought it on himself. If they hadn't found him, Jedidiah would have killed himself with that foul drug, sooner, rather than later. By the level of decay he'd smelled on Jed earlier, Mason suspected he wouldn't have lasted another dose. By cleaning him up and forcing his hand, they had saved not only his life but potentially those he was dealing to. If they could be found.

Jedidiah flinched at the sound of Mason's voice and quickly scuttled past him and down the corridor. Adam watched him go, hands still flexing and twitching in little jerks and fits. The look on his face was one of annoyed disappointment. 

Mason glanced at his watch and noticed it was after 2 am, just over thirteen hours before Jedidiah would be missed. "Now what? More sightseeing, do we wait until day light and Jedidiah's normal meet time, or do we go hunt now?"

"We?" Adam asked, head tilting slightly to the left. With the absence of the light, color had more or less vanished from Mason's enhanced vision and the smaller mans eyes were luminous and gray. "Don't know about we," he said. "I will go Above at the time. Find this man. Get answers." He stood and moved towards the tunnel. "If you are there..." he shrugged as he went past, smelling of mold and sweat. "...then you are there," he finished. 

Mason chuckled and just shook his head as Adam became a dim shape in the darkness, moving quickly away from him. Mason pondered the odd man, as he followed, more slowly, taking the time to sense his surroundings. Adam in some ways was his counterpart, a near mirror reflection, yet opposite in others. He wondered idly about the man's background.  

When he got to the junction where the room's tunnel met the main passage, Adam was no where to be found. Sighing heavily, Mason made his way to the nearest manhole cover. He listened carefully and determined there was no traffic above him. Hefting the cover easily, he lifted himself back into his own world and looked around orienting himself. The upper North side. he thought. Great, I just added 12 miles to my patrol. Mason replaced the cover and headed off back to his interrupted patrol, senses alert. Tomorrow was certainly going to be an interesting day.