Post by METTLE on Jan 10, 2022 23:04:36 GMT
Mettle traveled frequently by car now. Although he had never obtained his driver's license - superpowers made driving a vehicle pointless - there were perks to travel by automobile. For starters, he could relax and let someone move him around, letting his mind wander; in the opposite circumstance, if he were busy, he could place calls without worrying about where he was going, or monitor his affairs more generally. Even though he never slept - once more on account of his powers - he would occasionally close his eyes and go inward, entering a waking REM sleep of sorts which helped him re-focus.
Travel by car also meant he would attract less attention. Over two years ago, when he'd first developed his superhuman abilities, he could just jump across town. It was exhilarating to run across walls, burst from rooftop to rooftop, and hurl himself at his destination...but now, that was no way for a man in his position to travel. It attracted attention, and not always the welcome kind. It behooved him to move discreetly, and the all-black Chirop Motors sedan served him well in that. The last time he flew, he'd earned himself a tail - Daystar. A trip to Middlefield for personal reasons turned into something else entirely.
There was also something he admired about cars. As a machine-man, he'd been compared to them before. Engine. Fuel. Et cetera.
His destination was Hope's Garden Therapy Centre, with the English spelling, not the American, as had been specified on the website. It was the public office of the esteemed Dr. Alvis Holt, a famed therapist whose clientele consisted entirely of super-humans and the super-human adjacent. He had many high profile clients, but was known for his professionalism and guarded nature, upholding privacy to the best of his power. And then there was what he'd heard about his ability.
Alvis was a telepath. That made him of particular interest for Mettle. In fact, when he'd heard rumors of a true telepath close to New York, he'd resolved right away to do whatever was in his power to meet with him.
As he cleared his mind on the car ride, he pressed his thumbs together, fingers locked. Looking down, he could see one of his hands trembling.
A true telepath.
He stared at his hand and it stopped its motion. Then he turned his wrist over to check his silver watch as the car came to a stop. He remained a being of flesh, not steel, as he bid his driver goodbye for now, disembarked from the car, and walked down the stone path to Hope's Garden, garbed in his usual black suit-and-tie combo, along with a longer dark jacket for the winter weather.
"David Leiter. One o' clock appointment."
The time was 12:50. He always did his best to be early.
