xp_logs | Mark and Remy, backdated to Sunday night

Remy drops by Silver to offer Mark the official recruitment pitch. Lucky for him, Mark's mind has been made up since the 24th.

Silver was jumping; the nightclub had seen a resurgence in clients, especially once word got around that whoever had been preying on them had been taken by the police and some unknown heroes. The celebratory air hadn't worn off, and the gossips wondered between drinks and dances who was involved.

From his booth, Mark could watch all of this going on, with a satisfied smile. Being a part of the rescue, even if he hadn't been able to reap the credit for it directly, had been a wholly new experience. As much as he hated the cliché imagery, it was as if it had lit a spark within him, and he needed more fuel to feed it.

"I remember when dis place was Revolution. You couldn't get a damn drink in under an hour den too." The voice said, out of the darkness of the booth right behind him. There was a scraping, obviously a cigarette being pulled out of a pack, and a bright, tiny flare of purple energy. "Used to be able to smoke in here den."

Mark jumped, little lightning bolts dancing at his fingertips in reaction to the sudden sounds behind him. "How did you . . . No, forget I asked." The electricity dissipated, and he turned back continue the playlist. "You can thank Bloomberg for that wise decision," he said. "I didn't really figure you for a club guy."

"You be surprised." Remy said, a thin smile coming to his lips. After being dropped on the streets by the CIA, Remy had spent almost a year in an out of clubs throughout New York, caging drinks, drugs and beds from an endless line of men and women. It wasn't until the mental scarring had started to tear that he ended up on the streets for good.

"See dat de floor is packed. Better part of, what, twenty mutants here tonight?"

"Only if you're not counting the ones who're doing their damndest to stay in the closet," Mark replied. "Like that girl over there? She throws glitter. Really. Sends you on the mother of all trips if you snort it . . . not that I'd know firsthand, of course. She carries around little vials of actual glitter that she empties when she dances, but I saw her throw her own once. Not very subtle sometimes."

"Considering dat dere's likely not more den a hundred or so mutants in de while city, dat's a pretty impressive ratio you got going here." Remy's eyes flickered over the floor, picking out the odd mutant, be more gauging the mood itself. If there were mutants out there, they were being treated as normal by the rest of the club goers. A boy with light lavender skin was actually the centre of attention, dancing with a half dozen human girls.

"Going to here a lot on de floor, place like dis."

"Have you been reading the federal Census, dude?" asked Marked, eyebrow raised. "Don't trust their estimates. It's a city of eight million, one and a half of which live in this borough alone. There might only supposedly to be a hundred mutants in a city this size, but trust me, there's definitely more." He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned just a tad smugly. "In any case, they all come here anyway. Biggest mutant club in the Northeast. I'd venture so far as to say the whole country, but rumor has it that that title belongs to LA."

Mark turned around so he could gaze over Silver's patrons. His people. "Everyone finds their way here at some point. They come from all over. There was this kid once from Assfucknowhere who'd managed to hitchhike his way past the Mason Dixon Line. Got his ass kicked by the local FOH when he manifested, even though he was a minor telekinetic at best. Word traveled that he was here, though, so he had to run before NYC's chapter caught up with him. Haven't heard from him since."

"FOH. When did dat group start getting powerful, neh? Three years ago, dey were a bunch of yokels from Philly. Den dey bomb Disneyland and it's like a recruiting drive ever since." Remy shook his head. He's considered going after the Friends of Humanity, but the word was that they had political sympathizers. Besides, it was more up the X-Men's alley than X-Force.

"Dis is a custom job, isn't it?" Remy abruptly switched track, jerking a thumb at the DJ setup. It was not an out of the box soundboard and amplifier by a long shot.

"It's all mine," Mark replied proudly. "This country is full of fucking idiots. If they can't treat each other with basic decency, then they sure as hell can't put together what should be simple electronics. Plus, I need something to do during the day when I'm not down here. I'm not totally nocturnal yet."

"It's a good system." Remy had an eye for electronics, having used some of the newest systems while working with the agency. He remembered how proud they were to have a digital camera that could fit into watch. How times change. "You did well last week. Followed orders properly, kept a cool head, even wit' a building exploding 'round you. Dat's important."

Ah, so this is what he was here for. It almost made Mark cringe. He hadn't had any time to prepare answers to this ambush of an interview. At least he'd printed out a resume, which he currently had in his pocket. "Yeah, well, there were kids that needed saving. Madonna-rama just wouldn't be the same without my drag queen shapeshifter, you know."

"My life would be a lot simpler if dat had been de first time I heard dat particular statement." Remy snubbed out his cigarette. He and Wisdom had a long talk about bringing in Mark. Not only was he young, but unlike Doug or Amanda, he didn't have the benefit of X-Men training or the background to prepare him for what they did. Remy had run through his history, and while it showed a certain tenacity, that was hardly a substitute for experience.

Silver told the real story though. Mark was connected into a mutant subculture that they and Xavier's barely knew existed. He was a part of an emerging world that they needed connections to, if they were going to protect it from other threats. Besides, it wouldn't be long before people like Magneto were going to key into it and start recruiting. "I won't insult you by pretending dis isn't a pitch. What I will ask is dat if you say no, you'll keep what I'm about to tell you private. You've seen what we can do, so I won't bother threatening you either, homme. We do what you were involved wit' last week. Dere's all sorts of merde dat people get away wit' because de authorities either can't touch dem, or dey don't care. We work in secret, we do de job, and den we disappear. Dere's no praise, no one calling you a hero or even saying merci. De pay is low, de hours suck, and dere's a good chance dat you be dead before you see you thirties."

"On de other hand, it's important, and dere isn't anyone else to do it."

"You really ought to let Betsy do the recruiting," Mark said with a smirk. "'Cuz then you're too busy staring and don't have the mental fortitude to object. And besides, Wanda and Amanda already told me this. At my insistence, even. You had me at 'hello.' Or whatever passed for a greeting when you did the whole Batman thing."

"De reason I do de recruiting is dat I'm very good at convincing people dey don't want to say oui. Mark, you need to understand dis. You might be put in a situation were you're going to have to kill to save your own life. Or end up on de wrong end of an operation and either get killed or spend de rest of you life in solitary in an Uzbekistan prison." Remy's red on black eyes were intensely serious, freakishly lit in the dark booth. "And you're going to do and see things dat will never leave you. You're also going to give up de chance to ever lead a normal life. Think 'bout dat for a moment.”

"I have thought about it. The night we went up to the docks, when I went to bed I kept asking myself, 'What if I hadn't met you guys?' Would you've found them without me? Would they still be alive? Those fuckers who tried to buy them, what would they have by now?" Mark's smile faded, and he once again took a good look at all the people dancing and drinking and laughing and flirting. "Would any of these people still be alive? And if I'd known something - anything - that could have saved them but didn't do anything about it, could I even live with myself?"

He sighed and looked down at his hands that were once again crackling with Prodigy-induced electricity. "I gave up the white picket fence, pearl necklaced wife, and two point three children when I ran away from home and came up here. That's not me. I'm one of them" - he waved his hand at the crowd - "And I'm not just going to leave them. They are their own people. Not Magneto's, not the Friends of Humanity's, not President Fuckwad McKenna's. They just need to be reminded of that every so often."

Remy nodded. He understood that, as it was much the same thing that brought him down to help Tante so many times. "Bein. Come by de office tomorrow, and we'll get you set up. Also, bring a schedule for you nights here. Dey going to get disrupted sometimes, but both Wisdom and I want you working here as regularly as you currently are. We'll figure out how to fit you in den."

"Sweet." Mark's expression instantly brightened again. He fished out the crumpled resume from his pocket and handed it to Remy. "Here. For official hiring purposes, of course. You should at least pretend that you have a real hiring process, right?"

Remy almost laughed as he took the paper. He looked it over quickly, and held it up in front of him. "Homme, one thing you 'bout to learn," The paper shone purple for a brief second before popping in a small flare of energy. "in dis business, it better to not exist at all."