<strong>August, 1995 (San Diego)</strong><br/><br/>The black SUV pulled up to the warehouse wreckage and thru the cordon around it. Two agents of the Mutant Control Office (MCO) stepped out, the senior agent got out and spat on the sidewalk as they headed into the water soaked wreckage.<br/><br/>"Tell me." Harvey Mayer said to the woman following him, one of the rare few mutants in the MCO. Rebecca "Assay' McKay sighed as she looked over the site.<br/><br/>"Mechano-Lad and Kitbash were turning in a bounty when Dr. Quinine delivered a van load of his custom designed ragers." Mayer shivered at the thought of blood raging maniacs with super strength as she continued. "Kitbash was killed and Machano and the rest of the city swat team put down most of the ragers. He traced where Quinine's lab was and the mad doctor emptied his lab of his remaining test subjects." 'Assay' pointed to the bodies. "They killed Quinine and each other. Machano-Lad was damaged beyond repair. The SWAT team has a devisor on call, he called the android damaged beyond repair. They recovered a fist sized gem from the damaged android frame."<br/><br/>"Well let's take a look at it." Mayer said waving her in. The woman followed him in. Her gift allowed her to psychically read objects, and in the case of devisor technology understand if it can be reverse engineered into usable and duplicatable tech. She took the fist sized gem out of the case and removed her gloves and held it in her bare hands. Minutes passed.<br/><br/>"It's a mind, sleeping but a human mind." She whispered as she put the gemstone back in the case. "It can’t be duplicated and it's way too complex to re-engineer." She said handing the policemen back the case.<br/><br/>"You know that thing will sit in an evidence room forever." Mayer said to her as she let them take it away. Her look back at him explained it. "Yeah, you're aware. You are thinking it thru. I'm retiring, you are fishing for a job outside the MCO because of the fact that only a burned out agent is the only one you can trust...."<br/><br/>She nodded.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Today</strong><br/><br/>He'd dreamed for an eternity, his life relived over and over again. Till with a lurch he was dreaming someone else's life.<br/><br/><em>She was Sinclair, age 9. She was in a doctor's office. She walked around the room while listening to her parents and big words like autodidact and superior autobiographic memory were being used to explain her abilities to her parents. She understood them, didn't tell anyone about them. Just like she didn't tell anyone she could speed read at over a thousand words a minute easily or that she imagined she was some sort of child prodigy. It was hard to tell just how much was the ability to replay memories in her head and how much was just being able to understand concepts supposed 'too mature' for her.<br/><br/>She looked over the book in her hands. The method of loci: Key's to the Mind Palace by Warren Keys. She never heard of anyone with hyperthymesia, or superior autobiographical memory, building one but she hoped it would let her index her memories for easier access.<br/><br/>"This is the first room." She whispered to herself in the mirror as she focused on the details. The old 1940 styles building with odd bits, like an angle where the backstairs cut off the far right corner at an angle. The scent of old books, the murmur of water in the radiator. Mom and Dad asking questions and she feeling the THRUMM in her head. The big secret that she kept hidden from everyone after she realized that no one else could  touch that humming power and go somewhere without moving.. <br/><br/>She looked in the mirror and thought about every detail she could see, feel, smell or sense in anyway. The brush of the shag carpet on her feet, the smooth glass on the mirror, the slight chill spring on the air as she heard the murmur of her parents and the doctor talking, the babble of rain on the rooftop as it started to rain. She replayed the moment again and again, building it in place in her mind. This was her first room, she'd build the rest from here..she reached out to open the door....</em><br/><br/><br/>He/She blinked as awareness filled his mind. The body felt off, but he could breath. Like for the first time in forever. Several words filled his mind as he forced his eyes to stay shut. The sound of other's around her kept him from moving as the awareness of the world filled his ears. The conversation of someone near by filtered into his/her awareness.<br/><br/>"She's not waking up.. "<br/><br/>".. said it might take a bit, 2 decades in that stone, takes a bit of time to figure things out. Imagine relearning how to do stuff, not to mention ..you know.."<br/><br/>"Yeah, but we need to get her under control quick. The Triangle leadership will want to get a return on the investment. We snatched a brain dead mutant and a gee-gaw from the San Diego PD evidence room...."<br/><br/>"An the little genius figured out how to combine the two. The body with a box full jump locations, Syn has knocked off jobs damn near everywhere."<br/><br/>She/He blinked, that was this body's name. Sinclair 'Syn' Dane. But it wasn't his name. That seemed just out of reach... then something else came into his mind.<br/><br/><em><strong>RUN</strong></em><br/><br/>A single impulse that made him reach within himself, for that mysterious<em>THRUM</em>that lurked within her.<br/><br/>There was blackness, and then a twisting/falling sensation and he was aware of humid air and the scent of back alley dumpster rot and things not suitable for considering. He looked around, badly lit alley with few clues as to where he was. A touch to the back of the neck revealed long hair, a glance down showed something he didn't recall having, breasts and a panicked check revealed all the points of anatomy of woman and last he recalled he was a guy. He couldn't recall his last moment of awareness but he was sure of that. He was also sure that he had something more than a hospital gown.<br/><br/>"I need clothing' He said, starting at the husky whiskey rich voice he..no she had. An image filled her mind.<br/><br/><em>Her hands lifting an acoustic tile, sliding in a duffel back into place before letting it drop back in place.</em><br/><br/>A memory, not his but hers, but with it he/she felt the location as clearly as if he/she was there. A twisting/falling sensation and then she/he was. A quick check revealed a small gym bag sized duffel full of clothes. A quick panicked change of clothes had her in tight jeans, a embarrassingly tight thong and sports bra, tank top and tshirt.<br/><br/>She was, she discovered, in New Orleans..<br/><br/>"Now what do I do?" She asked as she looked thru the pack and pulled out a wallet. The Mutant Identification card, or MID, read ‘Syn’. It was her new face on it and the alias was the only name you’d seen on a MID. Privacy concerns kept all MIDs to an alias.