The rain-slick rooftop makes Ige's boots squeak as he runs. The thud, thud, thud of the guard's boots behind him matched his heartbeat. "Don't get caught." Her words echoed in his head as he leapt across the gap in the roof to the adjacent one. He rolled, breaking the impact without slowing his momentum. Sliding out of the roll, he turned back to see the guards all gathered at the roof edge, their grey gunmetal suits and red visors glinting in the reflecting light of the city. As a unit, they reached for the rifles and began opening fire. Ige ran, legs pumping as he moved to the edge of the adjacent roof. In a single practiced move, he fired a grapple line to the edge and dropped off the edge. The free fall was brief as the line slowed his descent enough to land in the alleyway below. 

A breath out. 

Unclipping the harness, Ige slips it off as he moves to the alley entrance onto the main street. The percussive beat of DubStep and the sound of club goers echo through the street into the narrow alley, growing louder as he moves. The skintight black suit is dumped into a trash can, followed by the boots. With the baggy jeans and cheap local band t-shirt, he'd fit right in as a student who decided to take a vacation in one of the most corrupt cities in Germany. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he slipped on a pair of sunglasses before joining a pair of students too drunk to notice he was keeping pace. His right hand darts into his pocket and folds around the small plastic case. 

He slipped away from the students and ducked through a series of alleys until he reached the shopping district of the city. A large mall complex with signage in a dozen languages. He was almost to the entrance when he saw them. Green and brown fatigues with flack jackets. Thin rifles with blue capped muzzles with cords connected to backpacks. STRIDER agents. Ige pauses and resists the urge to bolt when he sees that they're doing pat-down checks. Glancing up, he catches the shimmering silhouettes of optically cloaked agents on the four buildings surrounding the crosswalk. "That's five." He thinks. "Each roof. Anti meta human tech, wired directly into EMP-proofed casing and power supplies." He turns and ducks into an alley. He bolts towards the other end, the sliver of light a beacon of escape. He detects the whoosh of air and the slight scent of cheap cologne as a grey figure drops from the air, landing directly in front of him. The light vanishes, and Ige's heart drops into his stomach as the man stands to his full height, the darkness of the alley obscuring his features. The thief narrows his eyes. In a flash, he retrieves two beads from his left pocket and throws them at the agent. They collide with his chest, and a flash of purple light explodes around him. Ige bolts back towards the way he came, only to be surprised by a middle-aged woman with greying hair. She smirks and looks him up and down before pushing her right hand to the right. Ige's momentum is suddenly reversed and twisted. He slams into the rough, slick brickwork of the building's wall, air being forced from his lungs on impact. The woman, keeping her hand extended, slowly moves towards him. "I have him." She says. The man steps towards Ige, and the thief's eyes narrow. He tries to move, but the force that keeps him pinned suddenly doubles. Constriction. Panic wells in his gut, and he frantically looks to her and the man. To his irritation, the man was unaffected by the flashbangs. "Ige. Pleasure as always. We need to talk."

A breath out.

The offices of STRIDER were akin to any other office complex in the country of Braudenz. From the window of Corrigin's office, the early morning German sun began to creep through as Ige was brought in. He'd changed into a sweatsuit emblazoned with the STRIDER logo. His eyes flitted around. Despite his seeming calm, Corrigin could hear his increasing heartbeat as the agents tightened the cuffs. "There's no need for that," Corrigin said. The agent frowned. "But sir-" the director held up his hand. "No. Need. I can handle him." The two agents slipped out of the room, but not before casting a doubtful glance at Corrigin before doing so. Once they have left, Corrigin takes a seat at his desk and gestures at the office chair across it. "Take a seat, son." Ige does, but his lips quirk into a slight smile. "So I'm made." He says. His voice is rough, slightly husky. The director doesn't reply and drops a thick stack of files onto his desk. Taking the top one, he opens it to a black and white mug shot of a young boy with dark skin and the same grey eyes. "Ige Novak. Age fifteen. First arrest at age nine. Armed robbery and at least twelve counts of domestic terror. Adopted son of two terrorist mutant leaders of the Cachinnate crime syndicate." The director looks up as he flips the page. "Need I go on?" Ige narrows his eyes at him. "We've done this song and dance before. I don't need a recap." His eyes rapidly scan Corrigin. His greying hair, missing right arm, and perfect skin that doesn't sweat due to his meta-human biology. Impossible to hear his heartbeat through that skin. He frowns. Corrigin nods and closes the file. "Okay, Ige. I know we've had this discussion before. That offer I mentioned was genuine. But the window is closing soon." Ige snorts in disbelief. "Is that why you brought STRIDER jackboots into Braudenz?" Corrigin shook his head. "Legally, STRIDER brought this office park and the ability to legally operate due to a few contributions to the right officials." He spreads his hands. "All perfectly legal to be here." He clears his throat and pauses to drink from the glass on the desk. Ige watches and focuses his hearing on the director's airways as he drinks. His breathing was off.... Slower. He was struggling to take in air ever so slightly. 

"You're sick." The boy says. Corrigin sets down the glass and nods. "I am." He takes a deep breath, and Ige detects a slight wheeze as he does so. "Doctors think it's due to my meta-human constitution. Something is breaking down. I don't have time left to let the future generations of mutants, mages, and meta-humans go without help. That's why I tracked you down. Your little... family? The Cachinnate? They're clever and move fast, but my people work faster. But last year in New York, when I caught you during that robbery? That offer to be pardoned was genuine." Ige shifts in his seat. "So what, you want me to leave my dad's and go to that academy in Delaware?" He scoffs. "They'll come for me." Corrigin shakes his head. "No, they won't. The Morrison Academy is designed with safeguards in place to prevent tracking. And I've got another option for you."

 On cue, the office door opens, and the woman from the night before enters. A small woven bracelet with golden beadwork is laid in front of Ige. "Ms. Draven was kind enough to enchant this with a glamour spell. No one will know who you are unless you want them to, Mr. Novak." Ige stares at the bracelet suspiciously. "I don't mess with magic." He replies, gingerly picking it up with one hand. "I-" "In that robbery last night, you knocked out fifteen people. Ige, the Cachinnate, taught you to kill. Yet you chose to incapacitate those people. That's why I'm giving you this chance, son. To prove that you aren't the monster they trained." Ige glances at the sorceress, the bracelet, and then at the director of STRIDER. He shifts in his seat again, weighing the options. A breath out. He nods. "I'm in."