EPISODE 1: INTRODUCTIONS ARE IN ORDER 02200 HOURS THE CITY OF WASHINGTON DC FRANCISCAN MONASTARY GARDENS The Gardens should be closed by now, at least to the public who come from all over to feel a sense of peace, to smell the beauty around them, but it is not. Several nondescript bodyguards stand at attention and keep watch over all entrances, their hands clasped together in front of their business-like attire. Sitting on a park bench are two men, one a balding and liver spotted old man with an American Flag pinned to his person and horn rimmed glasses, he has a definite air of a politician about him. The second of the two of them is a suave, blond haired gentleman wearing a black and white dress shirt and blazer, his shirt's top buttons undone in the heat. In the younger man's hands is an average sized manila envelope, the young man drops his package on the old politician's lap, and waits silently as he opens it up and pulls several unseen photographs from within and takes a long sigh before putting them back and handing the manila envelope back to him. "Who are they?" The young man asks, breaking the informal silence, The old politician stares straight ahead at a rosebush before speaking, "i've always thought of humanity as a beautiful rose, such wonderful colors and varieties, smells that make you think back to simpler times, and the feeling of the delicate petals. Don't get me started," he laughed and wiped a sentimental tear from his eyes, "What does a rose have to do with anything?" The young man asked with a raise of his perfect blond eyebrow, "You didn't let me finish," the old man said and finally looked the less educated young man in the eye, "while humanity is like a rose, a rose has it's thorns. The thorns in this context are this new, so-called mutant issue. They are there solely to do harm to those who want nothing more than to admire the rose," "Oh," The young man said and nodded, "you want me to prune some roses?" He asked with a wink, The old man began to stand, and was approached by an assistant to his security detail who handed him his cane, and in a matter of fact tone he spoke, "in a manner of speaking," THE STREETS OF WASHINGTON DC- THE NEXT DAY [I]"These mutants are becoming an issue, it's one thing for some punk kid to go around egg someone's house or tag up a respectable business-" "A young man with the power to make other see what isn't there was arrested earlier today for stealing almost 1,000,000 from a Wells Fargo-" "These kids are running about making such a mess of things, when are we going to say enough is enough? When is the government going to do something about this mutant proble-"[/I] A young man turned off his expensive and LED lit up car stereo, before turning his attention back to the city skyline. Beside him a blond model type was hanging onto him, playing with his smooth brown hair, "I was listening to that," she said with a fake pouty-face, "Really?" The guy asked and looked over at her in faked astonishment, he had his Lamborghini parked atop an empty parking structure, because sometimes he liked his space, "No Wally Bear," she teased him and leaned for a brief make out session, "that stuff totes bores me," "Yeah," Wally, or Walt as he perferred to be called, "me too," he said with a shrug and looked back over the city. Walt Ashmore was a very rich young man who's image was that of an irresponsible party boy, the playboy son and heir to Ashmore Congolmerate, the family business that liked to buy other businesses and if they didn't make profit, then they would simply be forgotten about, dusted under the financial rug so speak. So needless to say, his family was both loved and hated, but mostly hated. "Who wants to listen to people bagging on mutants anyway, we just go out on the streets and do that ourselves," he joked, but if his lady friend were a little less blond she would've known that he was keeping his real feelings about the New Mutant situation a big secret, "Ooh, speaking of the streets," she said with a girl-ish squee, "there's a rave going on tonight, if you want to go," "Do you really gave to ask me that?" He asked ger with a laugh before starting his car up and backing out, "where at?" "Some abandoned hospital," she said trying to think if the name in her bimbo-ed mind, "saint something or other," "St. Elizabeth?" Walt asked as he drove around the corkstrew-ed road that led down to the street, "Yeah that's the one," she giggled and rolled down her window and let the hair blow about her hair. "Sounds like a plan,"