[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/YWqLekM.png[/img][/center]
[h2][center]Negotiation[/center][/h2]
The Ambassador wanted it all, everything she could use against the woman she undoubtedly bore some personal grudge against. So, Silence would do his job properly, as distasteful as it may be. He looked at the replica firearm in his hands, turning it over familiarly, it would serve for what he had in mind. It was just beginning to turn dark, and he found himself crouching in a bush just off to the side of a porch in the suburbs of Jamestown. There were a couple of sticks nestled in the small of his back, poking him every time he shifted his weight, luckily he was wearing quite bulky clothes to hide his body shape. In the same way, he wore a neckerchief and coloured glasses, with a backwards baseball cap. His face shape was completely lost in all the assorted clothing, taking no chances. He was about to kick down an anthill, the last thing he wanted was any of them getting his scent and following him back to Lost Haven. He had enough enemies.

Finally, after almost an hour of anticipation, the sound of an approaching car reached his ears. Lekh’s eyes turned to it as the vehicle pulled in, a black sedan, how cliché. The woman inside stepped out, her hair was greying and she had put on some weight, but she matched the picture he had seen of one ‘Doctor Short’ a geneticist at the correctional facility where Michael Garth met his fate. He knew more than that about her, he knew everything he needed to twist the thumbscrews without having to get his hands dirty. Just the way he liked it. 

She fumbled for her keys, her cumbersome fingers tired by a full day at work doing god knows what. Silence made his move as the handle turned, propelling himself silently out of the bush, he was behind her before she could step through the threshold, his gun at her side, pressing through her coat. She cried out in surprise as one gloved hand wrapped around her mouth.

[color=bc8dbf]“Quiet now, lady, or you’re going to get hurt.”[/color] His accent was noticeably American, pitch-perfect for the local area in fact. She couldn’t do much, only quiver against his body as he pushed her through the door with a suggestive press of the gun at her hip. She almost stumbled going in, and he pushed the door closed with a flick of his foot, prompting another cry from the hostage at his mercy. Her imagination was probably going wild right about now, it usually did, which suited him just fine. Let her imagine what terrible things he could or would do to her next, it saved him having to do anything.

He kicked her feet out from under her and dropped her onto a sofa in the living room as he went toward the window and drew the curtains. She was crying behind him. Her trousers were wet. 

“Wha-what do you want!” She cried, her voice raising a whole octave as she struggled to overcome her panic. 

[color=bc8dbf]“Calm down, Doctor Short.”[/color] His use of her name quieted her, what had she gotten herself into? This wasn’t a robbery was it…

[color=bc8dbf]“Michael Garth.”[/color] Silence stood over her. [color=bc8dbf] “You know that name, don’t you?”[/color] 

“No.” 

[color=bc8dbf]“You’re lying to me Doctor.”[/color] He slapped her in the face, trying to cut through what small measure of defiance she held, he didn’t want any notions of protecting her livelihood to butt into his purpose, or things could get messy.

“No I’m not I don’t know a Michael Garth, please you must believe me, I’m just a prison doctor!” 

[color=bc8dbf]“We both know you’re more than that, Doctor Short, you wrote your PHD on experimental genetic research, delivered a speech at a national conference, do you expect me to believe you settled for a job patching up prisoners?”[/color]

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about, please.”

[color=bc8dbf]“Doctor Short, you conducted research on Michael Garth, didn’t you, probably others as well? What were you doing, what did you find out, who else is involved, where is the facility?”[/color] He hit her with another slap as she pretended to not follow his line of questioning. [color=bc8dbf]“Answer from the top, where are you based.”[/color] He hit her with his aura this time.

“The facility… it’s a mile out of town, I can show you on a map, but please, don’t kill me.”

[color=bc8dbf]“Who else is involved?”[/color] 

“I… I don’t know, I work with a man called Merit, everything is controlled, we’re government funded I think.” 

[color=bc8dbf]“Good, what were you doing, what did you find out?”[/color] 

“We were doing a form of genetic experimentation on individuals with a specific genome that we now associate with the sudden upsurge in meta-humans. We were hoping to activate the genome, to understand how it affects the human body, to replicate it if necessary. It was probably funded by the military.” The words were tumbling out of her mouth now, quite literally tumbling as she almost seemed to slur. 

[color=bc8dbf]“And Michael Garth, he had this genome I take it?”[/color] 

“Yes, he was one of the first we discovered, a dangerous sociopath. We activated the gene, the results were… unexpected.”

[color=bc8dbf]“What do you mean?”[/color] 

“He could change his body at a molecular and structural level at accelerated speed, he seemed to take on the form of animals, people lost their lives.”

[color=bc8dbf]“Tell me everything, Doctor, we’re going to be here a while.”[/color]