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Interceptors - New Recruit [IC]


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June 1st, noon

The figure cut casually up the street, clad in plain blue jeans and a battered brown leather jacket. He whistled merrily as he sauntered along, hands in his pockets. His face was covered with a big baseball cap, a faded green colour.

When he got to his destination, the figure casually sauntered up the staircase, and pulled out a letter from his pocket, detailing the specifications of his employment. And, with a wide grin, knowing he was about to annoy some certain people, he pulled a pair of orange goggles up from where they hung at his neck and up around his eyes. And then hammered 'shave and a haircut' on the door.

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Erik Espadas tilted his head slightly as he heard the rhythmic knock on the brownstone apartment building's front door. "...'two bits'?" Standing from his seat on a stool at the island countertop in the center of the kitchen area, he set aside a nearly finished glass or orange juice and the paper's sports section and moved to the front door, unlocking it and puling it open. For a beat he simply looked at the grinning figure revealed on the front steps. The green of the ballcap combined with the goggles made recognition almost immediate. "What? No. What?" So saying, the athletic young man simply closed the door again in the visitor's face.

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The door caught on a foot which had appeared there with lightning speed, as the grin didn't fade from Geckoman's face. "Sorry, Jackie Boy, but I'm going to be coming in." He produced the envelope from his pocket.

"I've been recruited." He affected a fake sterotypical drawl, proclaiming that "We want yew!" He leaned on the door casually. "Now, are you going to let me in, because it's quite uncomfortable having my foot there. I mean, sure, you could close it completely and shatter every bone in my foot and I'd not much be fazed, but it still hurts. Totally not polite. Although neither is having my foot in there, so am I one to throw stones? I mean, I throw boomerangs, but they're not made of rock..."

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"Jack, where are you?" called Fulcrum as she came in the back door.

Although arrangements were made for groceries, Mona still enjoyed shopping at the little corner markets scattered around the West End. In an age of super and mega markets, the little Mom-and-Pop stores were a real treasure she encouraged. Which meant that once a week or so she'd arrive with two large nylon bags full of various sale items and fresh produce. Like today.

Sitting the bags down on the island, she called, "Jack?" Without an answer, she shrugged and began unpacking when snippets of conversation drifted into the kitchen. Sounded like someone at the front door.

Since the Brownstone was technically a secret base, Fulcrum zipped by the front door at lightning speed. Gave her the chance to see what was to be seen without being seen in return. Well, as nothing more than a motion blur and a breeze anyway. But this time she stopped and 'walked' back behind Jack, looking out the crack in the door.

"Aren't you Geckoman? Wander's team mate?" she asked incredulously, and glanced down at his foot trapped in the door.

"Jack, really...be polite." The door opened then whether she had to pull Jack along with it or not.

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