A few miles away from the  bigwigs in Hightower (her own name for the building that housed the Haven Council) Anne was meeting with one of their gofers, offering him one chance to get the fuck off of her property before she made him eat her whip. His name was Luxe Bartom, and he had a proposition for her about working for this city that was really just a regrettable heap of semi-desolate wilderness.<br/><br/>There was a tension in the air around them, as if she'd sucked all the best bits into herself and left him with nothing but staleness and eerie silence. He had no doubt she was serious about going through with her threat, but his leaders had been very direct about his orders. They were to recruit her or die trying. He'd thought it would be easy, but now fifty percent of him hinged his bets on the death idea.<br/><br/>Anne Ashling was a different breed of woman, and even a hardened man like Luxe could see it in her gestures, eyes, even the way her fingertips didn't remain stationary on that long leather whip, coiling it for easy access in the crook of an arm.Other women handled handbags or pets that way, or stroked the arms of their lovers.<br/><br/>Her hair was so blond it was white, or it seemed that way. There were the last dying remains of pink dye at the tips, faded to almost nonexistence. She must have had long hair three years ago, and these were the last remnants from then. Hairdye had been soem of the first things to disappear. Her eyes were light blue, and he had the feelign they were even befoire she gained her talents.<br/><br/>When he didn't speak she struck out, slicing open his left cheek to the bone. The tall brunette man reached his hand up to touch the wound, almost amused. He could see this made her angry, and she snarled, her pearly teeth set in a snarl befitting of a wild dog.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry, but if you don't come with me then you'll have to kill me. There is no room for failure. I hope you understand my position."<br/><br/>She would be able to see it from his gesture. The mutation was under control for him, centered to the inside palms of his hands. The blood dripping down his cheek was black. She would know Councilman Arghost's tolerance for mutants fairly well at this point. Even though Ann was a hard woman, she would know that his fate would be in her hands. Slowly she untensed and threw her weapon casually over her neck. Flicking him a raggedy handkerchief, she walked to him and past.<br/><br/>They had to get to the Hightower.<br/><br/>" Whatever you say, you glorified slave. Who are the other Conduits, and why do they think they'll join in this crusade?"<br/><br/>" I can't tell you, but you'll know soon enough. Until then-"<br/><br/>The world went dark when he touched her shoulder from behind. He slid the gloves in his pocket back on with the ghost of the same grin from before. The suctiony puckers that grew on his palms produced extreme levels of melatonin in Conduits. He would need her alseep to transport her. Hopefully the others would be gathered much more easily.