Arc 3 - Ch 4: Residence

Date: Thursday, July 22, 2010.

Location: Chikara Dojo, 47 Monroe St., Chinatown, Manhattan, New York

Colleen's keen eyes evaluated the two young fighters before her. Every punch, every kick, told her a story. It was clear these weren't ordinary students. 

Illyana is fierce. She's the type who's been through something to develop that kind of edge. And Tyson... he's interesting, she mused inwardly.

The longer the session went on, the more apparent it became. 

Tyson isn't tiring out. Each of his strikes has held the same intensity from the start, and the speed? It was more than just good technique. There is raw power there. Even for his build, the strength he displays is remarkable. Is it adrenaline? Or is there something more to him? Colleen wondered. His potential is undeniable. We've always been on the lookout for talents like these. Raw gems waiting to be shaped and polished. If guided right, they'd fit in seamlessly.

And then there was Illyana. She had an intensity that couldn't be taught. She'd be a valuable asset to us. With a little guidance and a bit of molding... she could be exceptional. Yet, she had to tread carefully. First impressions matter. It was too soon to make any overt moves or reveal any intentions. They had to be introduced to our world, in their own time, when they were ready.

For now, it was about nurturing that spark she saw in them and drawing them closer.

"You both have potential," Colleen remarked, her face betraying a hint of a smile. "But remember, the potential is just that. Potential. It's up to you to realize it."

The sweat on Illyana's brow was beginning to dry, her breaths starting to return to a normal rhythm when Colleen stepped towards them, her expression serious. "You both have an undeniable talent," Colleen declared, "Have you ever considered formal training, on a more...advanced level?"

Illyana arched an eyebrow, "You mean, more than just afternoon lessons in a dojo?"

Colleen smiled slightly at the response, "Exactly. I'm offering you both a scholarship. It's a chance to truly hone your skills and reach your full potential."

Tyson looked between Illyana and Colleen, he had a feeling he knew this pitch. "What's the catch?"

Colleen chose her words carefully. "The training wouldn't be here. You'd have to leave the city. Think of it like... a training camp or a boarding school. You'd be educated, housed, and trained at a special facility. With the best trainers and everything you'd need."

Illyana's eyes narrowed, "And the price tag on this 'golden opportunity'?"

Colleen hesitated for a split second, "It's expensive. But seeing the potential in both of you, I'm willing to vouch for you. This scholarship would cover everything."

Tyson rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Why us?"

Colleen's voice was sincere, "Because I believe you both can be extraordinary. And sometimes, to achieve greatness, you need the right environment and guidance."

The silence following Colleen's offer was palpable. Illyana and Tyson exchanged a look. Tyson cleared his throat, "Thank you, Colleen, truly. The offer is... generous. But we've just left a boarding school not too long ago." He glanced at Illyana, who nodded in agreement.

Illyana's voice held a hint of sarcasm, yet genuine appreciation. "Yeah, and I've already finished high school, thank you very much." 

Tyson continued, "Our roots in this city are... strong. And our current journey is tied here. We can't leave."

Colleen's face reflected a mixture of understanding and a touch of disappointment. "I respect your decision," she said, offering a small, genuine smile. "If you still wish to train here, I can provide you with the costs for regular lessons."

Illyana glanced sideways at Tyson. "See, that sounds more our speed."

Tyson looked around, "Is the dojo always this... empty?" he asked.

Colleen exhaled, letting out a small sigh. "Enrollment's been low," she confessed. "Especially with summer on the horizon. Kids prefer the outdoors, sports, family vacations... you know how it is."

Tyson looked thoughtful. "About that training camp you mentioned, would it be possible for us to pay for it? I have a feeling that we'd benefit from concentrated sessions like that. And honestly," he paused, "I think you're the right person to teach us."

Illyana's eyebrows furrowed, a hint of suspicion in her narrowed eyes. "Tyson?" she started.

But his illusion silenced her with a subtle hand gesture. She heard a whisper in her ear, "Trust me."

Colleen seemed taken aback, clearly not expecting the proposal. She pondered for a moment, her financial woes flashing briefly in her mind. The lack of students weighed heavily on the dojo's funds. "It's not a normal request," she began slowly. "But considering the current enrollment, I think it's possible." She then named the price, one thousand dollars a month, each. Tyson considered it a fair rate, reflective of the quality of the training.

Tyson nodded. "We can manage. I'll find a night job if I have to."

Colleen looked them over, "And do you have a place to stay?" she asked, the genuine concern evident in her tone.

Tyson had a confident gleam in his eyes as he replied, "We have that covered."

She remained skeptical, doubting if these two could truly handle everything they were getting into. But she chose to keep her concerns to herself. Instead, she simply nodded. "Alright then. I hope to see you soon."

Tyson gave a deep bow to Colleen. "Thank you for the lesson. It was truly an enlightening experience."

Illyana opted out of the customary bow. But she did dip her head in acknowledgment, "Yeah, thanks," she added in a surprisingly genuine tone.

Colleen smiled in return. "It was a pleasure teaching both of you. Remember what you've learned today."

The door chime sounded as Tyson and Illyana stepped out into the streets of Chinatown. The sun painted the skyline in hues of amber and pink, a gentle reminder that evening was approaching. Tyson's stomach rumbled audibly, and he chuckled. "Hungry?"

Illyana rolled her eyes, but answered, "Always."

He led the way to a cozy-looking restaurant, the aroma of sizzling dishes inviting them in. As they settled at a table, Tyson made eye contact with their server and summoned his illusion powers. He was subtly manipulating the man to ensure that when the bill came, the costs would be covered in a way that didn't cause him trouble. He ordered a generous spread of dishes for them, each one more delicious-sounding than the last.

Illyana leaned in, whispering, "You sure we can afford all of this?"

Tyson just laughed. He winked and replied, "Don't worry about it."

As the sounds of the bustling restaurant surrounded them, Tyson leaned in, capturing Illyana's attention with a serious expression. 

"Alright, here's the plan," he began.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? Since when did we start planning things?"

Tyson sighed, "Since we've been on our own, we've pretty much been winging it. Just hoping things will work out. If we keep taking shortcuts, using my powers like this," he gestured vaguely around the restaurant, "we're bound to slip up. It's only a matter of time before we draw unwanted attention."

Illyana smirked, picking up an appetizer and taking a bite. "So, what's the master plan?"

"We need stability," he pressed on. "A place to call home, a regular income." As Tyson laid out his thoughts on a more permanent living situation, a sudden realization crept across Illyana's face. Her usually sharp and witty demeanor softened, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She hesitated for a split second, her blue eyes searching Tyson's for some hidden meaning.

"You want to make a home... with me?" Illyana's voice was almost a whisper, a mixture of surprise and vulnerability, her Russian accent more pronounced.

Tyson was momentarily caught off guard. Illyana's words hinted at something deeper. He hadn't intended to imply anything about the nature of their relationship, but as he looked into her eyes, he realized he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant," Tyson started, choosing his words carefully. He took a deep breath, and with a sincere tone added, "But, I enjoy being with you. And if you feel the same way..." His voice trailed off, leaving the sentiment unspoken, yet palpable between them.

Illyana's eyes held a mixture of surprise and consideration. The usually confident and often sarcastic mutant found herself in unfamiliar emotional territory. The implication of Tyson's words was something she hadn't anticipated, yet it stirred something within her. The clinking of dishes and the soft murmur of conversations surrounded them. As the server set down their plates, Illyana leaned back, taking a sip of her drink. "So," twirling a strand of her blonde hair she asked, "what did you have in mind?"

Tyson took a moment, collecting his thoughts. "First things first, we need to find a place to live. Hotel hopping has been... adventurous," he chuckled, thinking of the various hotels they'd been in over the past days, "but we should pick one and set up a more long-term residence."

Illyana raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "And how do we do that?"

Tyson smirked, "Some hotels offer high-level employee perks; reserved rooms, access to special lounges, and such? We make ourselves appear as such employees. That way, we get food, shelter, laundry, and everything. It's a bit of a cheat, but it'll provide us with the stability we need."

He paused, his eyes searching Illyana's for a sign of approval. "Plus, if something ever happens and I'm not around temporarily, you'd still be taken care of."

Illyana mulled over the idea, taking a bite of her food. "It's sneaky," she said after a moment, a sly grin forming on her lips, "I like it. We'd have a… home. And it beats running around the city with no fixed address."

Tyson chuckled, relieved. "I had a feeling you'd be on board."

Illyana, picking up a fork, looked at Tyson, "Why the dojo?" she probed. "Out of all places... why there?"

Tyson thought back on recent events, "Since I woke up in that truck, I've felt like a punching bag. I've been in fights almost non-stop," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "And I'm not winning as many as I'd like."

Illyana tilted her head, "You're not exactly a pushover."

He chuckled weakly. "I have memories, techniques, entire lifetimes of fighting stored in my head thanks to Sabertooth. But when it comes down to it, I'm constantly scrambling, reacting more than acting." Illyana was about to retort, but Tyson continued, "And you," he said, his gaze intense, "you have that magic sword of yours. It's powerful, sure. But without proper training, it's just a sharp object. You need to wield it, not just swing it."

Illyana's pride was evident in the slight stiffening of her posture. "I've managed so far."

Tyson leaned forward, the urgency clear in his voice. "We can't rely on 'so far', Illyana. Magneto's probably plotting as we speak. Stryker might be off our backs for now, and then there's..."

"Azazel," Illyana hissed, her distaste for the name palpable.

Tyson nodded grimly. "He's a master with that rapier of his. You need to be more skilled to stand a chance against him."

Silence enveloped the table for a moment. Illyana's fingers tightened around her fork, her eyes clouded with thoughts of battles past and those yet to come. Finally, she nodded. "Fine," she conceded. "We train." A teasing lilt was added to her voice, "Are you sure it isn't because you think Colleen's cute?"

Tyson nearly choked on his drink, eyes wide as he sputtered, "What? No!" 

Illyana tilted her head, "Hmm, I wonder if you have a type." 

Tyson looked at her with a mix of confusion and wariness. "A type? What are you talking about?"

She waved her fork around casually, "Well, you do seem rather... fond of Jubilee."

Tyson's eyebrows shot up, his voice dripping with disbelief, "You think I have a thing for Asian girls?"

Illyana clapped her hands in mock delight, "Yes, that's it!"

Tyson's face turned a shade redder. "But... I'm with you, aren't I? What's your point?"

Illyana leaned in, her smirk growing wider. "Isn't a part of Russia in Asia?"

Tyson brought a hand to his forehead, groaning. "I can't believe we're having this conversation." 

A pressing question weighed on Illyana's mind. Taking a sip of her drink, she looked over at Tyson, her blue eyes searching his. "How are we going to afford the lessons? We've been scraping by as is."

Tyson, leaning back in his chair and asked, "Remember that massive bull statue we passed?"

Illyana's brow furrowed, recalling the huge bronze statue in the Financial District. "Yeah, the Wall Street bull thing? What about it?"

"That area is overflowing with money, Illy. I was thinking I might try my hand there."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching. "You? In a suit?"

Tyson waved a dismissive hand, laughing lightly, "Not exactly. But, there are countless jobs and chances to make money. I'll find a way."

Illyana considered his determination, and her worries momentarily quelled. With a sigh, she said, "Alright, if you say so." Illyana's eyes snapped to his, feigning annoyance. "And don't call me Illy. I hate that nickname."

Tyson leaned forward, pretending to ponder deeply. "How about... Yana?"

She snorted, "Sounds like a pop star or like I should be dancing in a ballet or something."

He smirked, "I wouldn't mind seeing that. How about... Ana?"

She squinted at him, "That's just lazy. Next, you're going to be calling me 'I'."

Tyson chuckled, holding up his hands in defeat, "Alright, alright. I'll stick to Illyana then."

The atmosphere in the restaurant grew softer as the evening progressed. As the last remnants of their dessert sat on the table, the flickering candles painted their faces with a gentle glow. Tyson's demeanor shifted to something more vulnerable. He placed his hand atop Illyana's. To anyone else, it would've looked like a simple, intimate gesture. But she felt no accompanying pull on her life force, letting her know it was an illusion crafted by his powers. His eyes searched for something within her own. "Illyana... Are you truly okay with everything? With all of this? I feel like... like I've been dragging you into my chaos. I want to make sure this is what you want."

She studied him for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle. "Tyson, after Xavier's Institute, I didn't have a clear path in mind. You know that. Staying there to help teach? Or trying to navigate college applications? That's not me. At least not right now." He nodded, swallowing hard as he continued to hold her gaze. Illyana squeezed the illusionary hand, wishing she could feel the warmth and weight of his actual hand. "This adventure? It's been wild, unpredictable, and honestly? More fun than I expected. I'm happy, with you."

He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relief flooding his features. "Thank you, Illyana. I just... I want to make sure you're never feeling trapped or obligated."

She smirked, her trademark mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "Trust me, if I wanted out, you'd know."

With a chuckle, Tyson replied, "I believe that. Well, now that we're full. Want to find a nice place and move in together?"

Illyana raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. "Well, that escalated quickly. Moving in together? Are you sure you're ready for that level of commitment?"

Tyson chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "We've been through a lot together. We've fought side by side, and we've had each other's backs in the toughest of situations. In a way, we've already been living together, just... without a fixed address."

She tilted her head, pondering. "You make it sound so romantic – 'living without a fixed address'. Most people call that being homeless."

He laughed, "Well, we've had quite the untraditional journey so far. I just thought... maybe it's time for us to have a little normalcy. A place we can call home. A safe haven."

Illyana sighed, looking out of the window for a moment before turning back to him. "A home does sound nice. Somewhere to return to after a long day. Somewhere to hang my... sword?"

He nodded, "Exactly. And besides, I think we're due for a bit of stability."

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Alright, but only if you promise not to leave your dirty socks everywhere."

Tyson grinned, "Deal. But you have to promise not to bring any demons home."

"Deal!" she said with a laugh.

And with that, the two set out to find a place to call home. Tyson and Illyana walked side by side, their footsteps in sync as they strolled back toward City Hall Park. Glancing over, they spotted a luxurious Four Seasons hotel. With its grand entryway and a revolving door, it beckoned them over, suggesting an elegance that was inviting. As they walked in, the high, vaulted ceiling, gilded with hints of gold, captured the essence of luxury. Large crystal chandeliers hung majestically, each crystal meticulously polished, scattering prisms of light that danced across the marble floor, reflecting intricate patterns. To one side, a grand, sweeping staircase adorned with plush, deep red carpet led to the second floor. Seating areas, scattered around the lobby, featured plush velvet sofas and armchairs which sat atop hand-woven rugs. Every corner whispered sophistication; from the curated pieces of art that graced the walls to the discreet, uniformed staff that moved silently, ensuring the perfection of every detail. Towards the back, a large, polished mahogany desk acted as the reception, where staff, looking impeccable in their tailored suits, attended to guests with a level of care and discretion only seen in establishments of this caliber. The ambient music which was a soft blend of classical and contemporary filled the air.

Without missing a beat, Tyson confidently strode toward the reception desk. Behind it stood a young woman with neatly pinned-up hair, her smile a practiced blend of cordiality and professionalism.

Before she could greet them, Tyson locked eyes with her, subtly activating his illusion powers. "I'd like to speak with the manager," he stated calmly.

She blinked, seemingly finding something reassuring in his gaze. "Of course, sir. One moment, please."

A few moments later, a sharply dressed man approached them. His suit was crisply tailored, his shoes polished to a shine. "Good evening. I'm Mr. Lawrence, the floor manager. How may I assist you?"

Again, Tyson employed his gift, locking eyes with the manager. "Is there a higher-level manager available?"

Mr. Lawrence appeared momentarily caught off guard but soon regained his composure. "Well, I'm in charge of the daily operations here. However, our hotel administrator, Ms. Carter, oversees the larger scope of management. Would you like to meet her?"

Past the grand lobby and the serene indoor fountain, the duo found themselves standing outside an ornate wooden door, the nameplate reading "Ms. Carter - Hotel Director." The door opened, revealing a large, elegant office that had the same air of understated luxury as the rest of the hotel. Sitting behind a sleek mahogany desk, Ms. Carter looked up, her sharp eyes assessing the two young people before her. She was a tall, poised woman with a stern countenance, her black hair pulled into a tight bun, and a single strand of pearls around her neck. "How can I assist you today?" she asked, her tone professional.

Tyson didn't waste a moment. As soon as their eyes met, he activated his illusion power. 

A woman opened the door and entered the room. 

The hotel director, Ms. Carter, straightened up, stern expression shifted to one of sudden realization and respect. She addressed the newcomer, "Ms. Taylor! I didn't expect the Four Seasons CEO to be paying a visit. What can I do for you?"

"Ah, Ms. Carter," Kathleen Taylor began, "I apologize for arriving unannounced." Ms. Carter assured her it was no problem. The CEO continued, "This is my nephew Tyson Smith, and his fiance, Illyana."

Tyson, playing along with the illusion he had cast, said, "We'd like to spend some time in New York and were hoping to reserve your finest suite for the foreseeable future. And I want the utmost discretion." Illyana tried to hide a smirk, impressed by Tyson's audacity.

Ms. Carter, now saw him as a distinguished corporate VIP of the Four Seasons chain, "I apologize for not recognizing you immediately, Mr. Smith. It's an honor to have you here." she said, her fingers deftly moving across her computer keyboard. "We have our Empire penthouse suite available for just such situations, it takes up half our top floor and offers panoramic views of the city and every amenity you might require. I'll ensure your stay is as comfortable and private as you wish."

Ms. Taylor chimed in, "And ensuring any room charges are written off as corporate expenses would be appreciated."

Ms. Carter's fingers paused on the keyboard, her eyes widening slightly at the request but quickly regained her professional composure. "Of course, Mr. Smith," she responded, turning her gaze back to the computer screen. "I'll arrange for all charges to be billed directly to the corporate account."

Illyana, still maintaining a facade of nonchalance, leaned in slightly. "We appreciate your discretion, Ms. Carter," she said, her voice carrying a hint of a Russian accent. Her eyes darted between Tyson and Ms. Carter, a mixture of amusement and intrigue dancing in them.

Ms. Carter nodded her attention still partially on the computer. "Is there anything specific you require during your stay? Any particular preferences or needs?"

Tyson glanced at Illyana, then back at Ms. Carter. "Privacy is our primary concern," he said, his tone firm yet polite. "Beyond that, we trust your judgment to provide the best Four Seasons has to offer."

Ms. Carter, now fully in the role of an accommodating host, looked up from her computer with a smile. "I'll have someone show you to the suite right away. And rest assured, your stay here will be nothing short of exemplary."

As they were escorted towards the elevator, Illyana whispered to Tyson, "I can't believe that worked." 

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

The Empire Suite at the Four Seasons Downtown in Manhattan was nothing short of a masterpiece. It had a magnificent panorama of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the entire suite in a golden hue. The open-concept living area was expansive, with plush beige sofas adorned with rich, patterned throw pillows, a pristine glass coffee table, and modern art gracing the walls. The space was large enough to host a small party, with a long walnut dining table that could easily accommodate ten guests. Crystal chandeliers hovered above, casting their radiant glow. To the left was a kitchen with stainless steel appliances and glossy black countertops. Nearby, a media room boasted the latest audio-visual equipment, waiting to deliver entertainment. Perhaps the most impressive feature was the master bathroom, which felt more like a mini spa. It was adorned with white marble, a deep soaking tub with views of the city, and a rainforest shower. The office held a sturdy mahogany desk, with a high-back leather chair. Shelves lined with books and curios gave it a personal touch and a modern desktop computer gleamed under the ambient lighting.

It was at this desk that Tyson sat, studying the map of Manhattan with the city's skyline stretching behind him. Illyana, having just awoken, walked in with her characteristic swagger, her blonde hair tousled from sleep.

"Morning," she yawned, leaning against the doorframe, taking in the sight of Tyson and the room around her.

Tyson looked up, offering a warm smile. "Morning, sleepyhead. How did you find your first weekend in our home in the sky?"

Illyana stretched and smiled as her eyes scanned the suite. "Feels a bit too posh for a couple of misfits like us, doesn't it?" she teased. "It's weird that the club's just next to us, but I didn't hear any of the usual club noises all weekend. Nice soundproofing."

Tyson glanced up from his notes, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, they've designed this place well."

Illyana turned back to him, her blue eyes curious. "So, about your job search... What's the plan."

Tyson hesitated for a moment, his gaze drawn to a particularly imposing tower further uptown. "You know," he began, his voice thoughtful, "I've been thinking about it some more. Instead of Wall Street, maybe I'd visit one of the major corporations headquartered here in Manhattan."

Illyana, with her platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, looked at him quizzically. "Why the sudden change in plans?"

He pointed in the direction of the towering structure that caught his eye. "See that? That's Oscorp's tower. It's further uptown and has way more visibility than any other building. I'm considering heading up there, maybe do a little scouting."

"Oscorp? Of all places?" Illyana raised an eyebrow, "What's pulling you there? Looking for some high-tech toys?"

Tyson shook his head, "No, it's not that. It's just... I have this feeling. Call it a gut instinct or whatever." He met her gaze steadily. "I can't explain it, Illyana. But something tells me that there's more to Oscorp than what meets the eye."

The early morning sunlight washed over Oscorp's massive structure, giving the glass exterior a glistening hue. Tyson positioned himself at a nearby coffee stand, a block from the entrance. It was the perfect vantage point, allowing him to observe without drawing too much attention.

He watched as employees hurriedly made their way into the building, ID badges swinging from their necks. They were a mix of young and old, all dressed in professional attire. The tech giant had a reputation for attracting the best talent, and by the looks of it, that reputation held.

Every so often, someone would step out for a quick coffee break or to catch a breath of fresh air. Tyson seized these moments as opportunities. Striking up casual conversations, he'd subtly probe for information. 

"Morning! Seems like a busy day at Oscorp," he remarked to a young woman waiting for her cappuccino.

She smiled politely, her eyes darting to his attire. Tyson was dressed in casual clothes, giving off the vibe of a tourist. "Always is. New projects, deadlines... the usual corporate stuff."

Tyson continued his approach, blending in seamlessly as he engaged with several more employees. In each conversation, Tyson used his illusion power to gather insights. The employees, under the influence of his power, shared details about their work with a sense of pride. However, Tyson couldn't help but notice a cautious tone in their voices, hinting at deeper, more complex dynamics at play within the company.

His interactions had piqued his curiosity about the inner workings of the tech giant, but he wasn't keen on forcing his way into a position. The risk seemed too high, especially considering the other opportunities that New York presented.

The city was a hotbed for various underground activities. Gangs, crime, and other less-than-legal means of making money were rampant, offering avenues that could be exploited without causing harm. Moreover, he hadn't completely given up on the idea of using his illusions to secure a high-paying job in the finance sector. The prospect of effortlessly waltzing into a lucrative position using his powers was still appealing. It was a safer, potentially more profitable route.

With these thoughts in mind, Tyson decided to step back from Oscorp for now. He would bide his time, exploring the various facets of the city and perhaps its darker corners, all while keeping the option of a cushy finance job as a viable backup plan.

Since Times Square was nearby, Tyson walked over for a look before heading back to the hotel. Neon signs flashed, and enormous electronic billboards streamed advertisements for everything from the latest blockbuster movies to brand-name clothing. The constant thrum of activity was punctuated by the sounds of traffic, pedestrians chatting, and street performers trying to earn a few dollars. 

Tyson stepped into the sea of people, allowing himself to be carried along by the crowd. He glanced up at the buildings, looking for any signs of difference between this Marvel universe and his memory. However, aside from a few ads for Stark Industries and Oscorp, it felt disappointingly familiar. With a resigned sigh, he headed south, enjoying the familiar feel of the city. The sights, sounds, and even smells of NYC were a comforting backdrop to his thoughts. 

Several miles into his walk, a corner pizzeria with a sign reading 'Bleecker Street Pizza' stopped him in his tracks. 

The name rang a bell, but he couldn't place where he'd heard it before. Its rustic red-bricked exterior and the aroma of freshly baked dough beckoned him inside. Inside, the warmth of the oven and the sound of soft conversations surrounded him. The walls were adorned with photos of celebrities who had visited, along with countless awards the pizzeria had earned over the years. He approached the counter and ordered a slice of their signature margarita pizza. As he bit into the cheesy goodness, Tyson scanned the room, searching for any clues as to why the name was so familiar. The slice was decent, but it was the name of the place that kept nagging at his mind.

He pulled out his trusty map of Manhattan, tracing a route with his finger. Spotting Bleecker Street's connection to Broadway, he realized he could follow it back to the hotel. Setting the map down, Tyson took one last look around the pizzeria, hoping something would click. Unfortunately, it remained a mystery.

With his pizza done and the map folded away, Tyson exited the pizzeria, letting the city's ambiance envelop him once more as he made his way back to the hotel. The bustling streets of Manhattan were a labyrinth of turns and crossings, but none as peculiar as the six-way junction where Bleecker Street met 6th Avenue. He hesitated for a moment, watching as the locals navigated the intersection with ease. Shrugging off the mild embarrassment, Tyson continued his walk. The savory smells of restaurants wafted through the air, and the magnificent facades of high-rise condos towered overhead. But none seemed to pull at Tyson's memories like Bleecker Street Pizza did.

Just as he was getting lost in thought, he froze as he nearly walked past a particular building. His eyes widened, and his heart raced as he looked up at the facade. The shock was evident on his face, and for a moment, the bustling city around him faded into a mere whisper. The building stood out to Tyson like a beacon. 

The New York Sanctum.

It was an old, stately structure that looked slightly out of place amongst the modern architecture of the city. Built from worn white stone, the Sanctum had tall, narrow windows with intricately designed lattices. Above it, close to the roof, was an arcane symbol etched into the window, a circular design with intertwining lines shimmered faintly, as if there was some latent energy pulsing from within.

A shit-eating grin was plastered to Tyson's face. Every instinct told him to go knock on that door. But he couldn't, not without Illyana. This was their shared adventure, he wouldn't move forward without her at his side. He glanced up, noticing the orange hues of the sun in the sky. The clock was ticking, and it was already 7 p.m. He couldn't waste any more time; Illyana had to see this! With that thought, Tyson pivoted on his heel and launched himself into a swift run, zooming through the streets, weaving past pedestrians and dodging the occasional taxi, heading straight for the hotel.

Bursting through the doors of the hotel, he made his way to the nearest phone. He picked it up, dialing the concierge. As the phone rang, he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart.

"Good evening, Hotel concierge. How may I assist you?" came a crisp voice from the other end.

"Hey, I need a recommendation," Tyson began, trying to sound casual despite his evident excitement. "What's the best tea place in lower Manhattan? Something special, something... unique."

There was a brief pause on the other end as if the concierge was contemplating the perfect suggestion. "Ah! I would recommend 'McNulty's Tea & Coffee Co.' on Christopher Street. It's not your everyday tea place. It has an old-world charm, and they offer a variety of unique blends."

Tyson's grin widened. "Perfect! Thank you!" With the information in hand, he went back out into the streets. Their visit would have to wait until tomorrow. He couldn't arrive empty-handed.

~~ Rogue Replacement ~~

The morning sun streamed through the curtains of their hotel room, casting a golden glow on everything. Tyson lay there, counting the seconds, as he listened to the subtle shifts and movements of Illyana stirring from her slumber. He replayed yesterday's discoveries in his mind, the anticipation bubbling within him, almost too great to contain. 

Illyana stretched and gave a slight yawn, her blue eyes blinking open. "Morning," she murmured, her voice raspy from sleep.

"Morning," Tyson replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "How was your night?"

Illyana pushed her wild blonde hair out of her face, recalling the quiet evening she'd had. "Good enough. Drank some wine, and watched some crap TV. You?"

Tyson propped himself up on one elbow, trying to keep his face casual, which was harder than he thought. "Oh, you know. Searched for a job. Found the wizards," he said nonchalantly, trying to hide his grin.

Illyana, still waking up, nodded slowly, processing his words. "Mm, that's nice," she replied distractedly, then froze. Illyana's initial look of bemusement turned into wide-eyed astonishment. "You're joking, right?" She sat up quickly, the blankets falling around her. "You found them?"

Grinning triumphantly, Tyson replied, "Thought that might wake you up." He chuckled, unable to hide his glee any longer. "Yep! I found them."

Illyana sat up, her excitement mirroring Tyson's. "Let's go!"