Chapter 5 - A Little Bit of X: Chapter 5


                                                     A Little Bit of X

                                                 by Volpone


                                                         Chapter 5

          Quinn was waiting by the side entrance in his street clothes and carrying Slapstick when
Jean arrived, with Scott showing up moments later. The team leader glanced at the staff,
opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind.
          "We've got to get there fast. We don't know why, but she's running scared. The
message we intercepted referred to a 'hunting party', and I don't like the sound of that. Jean,
honey, can you get us to Riverview Park, fast?" 

                                        **********

          As the three were lifted away by Jean's telekinesis, the figure with the binoculars who
had been watching the mansion spoke into his radio link with hushed tones.
          "This is Perotti. Grey, Summers, and the mystery guest just flew out of here... literally.
They're not in uniform, and they're headin' for town. Repeat... this is Perotti. Three X-Men,
including Grey and Summers heading your direction... Over."
          A voice behind him replied, "I'd say you're 'over', all right."
          The surveillance man spun around just in time to see a large dark fist with hairy
knuckles at very close range. After that, he didn't see anything for some time.
          "Dammit, Bishop! You didn't even give me a crack at him," complained the green-haired
Polaris.
          "I promise to leave you some next time," he said as he began slinging the unconscious
man over his shoulder. "For now, let's get him back inside so we can find out what he knows."
          He started out for the mansion with his burden, keeping a careful eye out for any witnesses.
          "'Next time'... 'next time'... damn chauvinist... won't let me have any fun..." She muttered
as she followed him back, choosing to walk rather than fly so that she could kick a few rocks
on the way. Calling after her teammate, she observed, "I hope you know that, technically
speaking, we just mugged that man."
          "Yeah, yeah. I'll just put him back where we found him with a note of apology. Besides,
we're transporting him to another location against his will, so it's actually kidnapping." He kept
going, being well up the drive and not at all anxious to have a curious onlooker drive by at the
moment.
          Polaris said under her breath, "Thanks for the reassurance, Bish." Louder, she said,
          "Don't say I didn't warn you. Judge Judy wouldn't like it."
          His reply as he carried his burden inside was uncouth and quite unlikely, not to mention
unsanitary.

                                        ************

          The six persons in the group pushed through the door of the Banco Santa Marita slightly
after noon, local time. They were immediately the center of attention. This was largely due to
the fact that every one of them was dressed in some type of fitted blue and gold costume.
The second was due to the fact that the huge, beast-like man in the front of the group picked
up the guard on the left side of the door and threw him at the guard standing by the counter.
Both guards went down in an unconscious heap.
          The remaining guard posted on the other side of the door brought up his machine gun,
but when the amazingly attractive and statuesque brunette on the group's right met his eyes,
he was out like a light before he could fire off a single round.
          Several of the staff rose from their desks and ran for the back of the bank, but at a
gesture from the small, dark man with the precise mustache, the entire group froze in their
tracks, paralyzed instantly.
          The remaining man, a tallish, red-haired fellow, shouted, "Hold it! I mean 'alto'! Damn!
Can't even tell them to stay put or get fried." He squirted a blast from the flame-thrower he
carried, and the flames gathered into the form of a large bird which held its place near the
ceiling in the center of the room.
          Turning to one of the two remaining females, he said, "Relay, get the alarm!"
          The blonde he spoke to said, "Already done. Mind your own business and let me do my
job." Her hand rested on the keypad for the automated security system by the entrance.
When one of the tellers behind the counter reached down and pushed the button on her
alarm, she let out a cry of pain at the electrical shock she received for her efforts.
          The one called Relay snapped at the small man, "Quick! Hand me a phone!"
          Wordlessly, the man called Freeze-frame took a receiver from the nearest phone and
handed it to her. A look of concentration creased her brow for a moment, then a shower of
sparks popped from each phone in the room.
          "Secure!" she yelled.
          The one with the flame-thrower said to the huge man, "Find the manager and get the
vault open."
          With the exception of Relay (the woman with her hand on the alarm keypad), the group
fanned out around the room of cowed employees as the hulking brute moved towards the
office behind the counter.
          A woman in her mid-forties moved to intercept him, waving her hands at him.
          "No, no! Senor Mendoza no esta..."
          "Outa my way, sister," and he almost negligently backhanded her out of his path. She
flew to land in a crumpled heap some ten feet away.
          Wrenching open the door of the inner office, Sabretooth discovered just why the bank
manager, Senor Mendoza, was not to be disturbed.
          The middle-aged man in the dark, well-tailored suit stood behind his desk. His fly was
unzipped and his hands rested on the shoulders of his pretty secretary who was on her knees,
her crimson lips wrapped around his manhood as she performed one of her "secretarial
duties".
          "Looks good. I think I'll have me some of that," he growled.
          The lovely senorita started to button her blouse and rise, but Sabretooth took one swipe
with his claws and took off the corner of the manager's desk. The threat bridged any language
barrier they might have had. She fell back to her knees, her hands instinctively coming up to
shield herself from the flying splinters. While she had her hands raised, Sabretooth hooked
one claw into the front of her outfit and split both blouse and bra of the thoroughly intimidated
woman.
          The manager sputtered incoherently as he stuffed himself back into his pants, trying
unsuccessfully to demand an explanation. Sabretooth simply lifted him by the jacket and
tossed him out the door.
          "Here he is, Pyro. You talk to him about opening the vault for us. Take yer time. I got a
date waitin' in here."
          Turning back to the pretty Hispanic woman kneeling there, he reached into the pants of
his uniform and pulled out an immense erection, saying, "Looks like Little Victor gets a treat,
huh, sugar-lips?" He slid his hand behind the terrified woman's head, and then, almost as an
afterthought, kicked the door closed behind him.
          Pyro cursed. "Bloody wanker! In the middle of a bloody..." Knowing that there was
nothing to be done now without putting the operation at even greater risk, he turned to the
bank manager and propelled him towards the vault. The sixth member of their crew, Locus,
kept close to him. Passing the office door, they distinctly heard Sabretooth's grunting,
punctuating the sound of female sobbing and gagging.
          To the manager, he commanded, "The emeralds! Open up!"
          Though he understood perfectly well, the manager tried to play dumb.
          "Que?" he asked.
          The fiery bird swooped down suddenly, passing so close in front of the man's face it
singed his eyebrows.
          The man suddenly understood too well and keyed in his security code.
          Back at the front entrance, a businessman wandered into the bank from outside, and
exclaimed when he saw what was happening. He started to back up, but Relay reached out
and touched the side of his neck. Redirecting the electricity from the alarm circuit, she gave
the man a jolt which dropped him in his tracks.
          When it looked as if the woman had killed the customer, one of the male staff panicked
and made a break for the back.
          "Knock-out!" she yelled.
          The gorgeous woman in blue and gold looked towards the fleeing man, but nothing
happened.
          Realizing his team-mate was unable to stop him, Freeze-frame waved his hand and the
man's muscles locked tight, making him tumble to the floor like a mannequin.
          At the look she got from her fellow criminals, Knock-out said, "I can't stop 'em if they
don't look."
          Pyro's voice rang out, "Vault's open!"
          Locus was the first inside. As she entered, Pyro turned to the manager, smiled and
said, "Thanks, Paco." Then without warning, he swung his left hand up and the barrel of the
flamethrower caught the unsuspecting man across the bridge of the nose. Señor Mendoza
collapsed on the floor with a cry, tears streaming down his face, hands clutching at his ruined
nose.
          A few moments later, Locus said from inside the vault, "Found 'em!"
          Pyro was inside in a flash, wanting to see what they had come for.
          His partner held two trays lined with black velvet. There, in the dark background, were a
truly amazing display of unset emeralds.
          "Four more trays just like 'em." She smiled at the thought of the immense value of what
she held.
          The team leader leaned out the door and yelled, "Victor! Move it out! Where's them
bags?"
          The door of the inner office opened, and Sabretooth emerged, rearranging himself
inside his uniform.
          "Damn Latin gals got talent but no stamina," he grumbled. He moved towards the back,
producing several sacks as he went.
          When he got there, Locus began stuffing the trays whole into the sacks, as Pyro
shouted out, "Bus leaving in thirty seconds! Let's move!"
          The rest of the gang broke off and quickly moved into the vault. Relay paused to reach
up to one of the bank's surveillance cameras, closed her eyes momentarily, and sent a surge
back down the power lines to the v.c.r. recording the scene. Inside it's secure cabinet, the
tape machine gave out an impressive cascade of sparks, the security tape destroyed as the
machine became so much scrap.
          On the way by the manager's office, they couldn't help but see the form of the halfnaked
secretary slumped across the floor, unconscious.
          "Got 'em all!" Locus informed them. She handed the sacks to her teammates, then as
Relay scooted in, said, "Close the door."
          To the room of terrified workers, Sabretooth said, "Thanks for the fun," then he grabbed
one edge and swung the massive vault door shut effortlessly. It closed with a solid "clang".
          Then there was silence.
          It took almost five minutes for the police to arrive. When they did, they poured into the
bank, weapons drawn, ready to open fire, only to find no sign of the robbers. When the staff
members said that they had entered the vault and closed the door, the police looked at each
other as if the criminals were crazy. The vault was solid on all sides, without any way out
except the heavy door by which they had entered. They had trapped themselves more surely
than if they had locked themselves in prison.
          The manager was taken away by ambulance, as well as a number of others, including
the unfortunate secretary who had been alone with Sabretooth. The middle-aged woman who
had tried to prevent him from entering the office was taken as well, but when her stretcher
rolled out, the emergency worker rolling her shook his head to his colleague and covered her
face with the sheet.
          It seemed that the robbers had taken something more valuable than emeralds.
          Their faces set in grim expressions, the police gathered around the door of the vault,
and when the bank president arrived to open it, they were ready to open fire on anyone they
found inside.
          The massive door swung back to reveal... nothing. No sign of robbers, and no
emeralds.
          They were still pondering how they had escaped long after the criminals were safely half
a world away.

                                        ************

          Back in Salem Center, the trio of rescuers were not more than a few seconds off the
ground when Columbina informed Quinn of the message sent by the surveillance man. She
had been monitoring for anything unusual from that location, and had been doubly triggered by
the narrow-band message and the mention of several key words.
          "Collie says the lurker in the woods phoned home about our sudden departure, so we
may run into more trouble than we planned," he informed the other two.
          "We can't turn back now. Whoever she is, she needs our help."
          "No argument from me, chief. Just keeping you informed."
          A few moments later, Columbina confirmed his suspicions as she relayed another
intercepted transmission.
          "Cyclops, we're gonna have company. Collie caught another message, this time from
somebody named 'Fade' to someone called 'Foster'. Fade told Foster that he was going to get
his wish, and that he and Skyhook would be flying backup. He told this Foster that you and
Jean were coming specifically, and that he would bring along the 'new toy', whatever that is."
          Scott asked with obvious distaste, "Not Raymond Foster?"
          "She didn't catch a first name, though she did say that the two speaking didn't seem on
the best of terms."
          He nodded. "If this 'Fade' is a mutant, that would fit." They began to come in for a
landing in the park. He continued his explanation. "The Foster I've heard of is a muta-phobic
ex-Special Forces jerk with a rep for hurting mutants, supposedly militant FOH.
          "If Foster is involved, now I know why whoever it is is running scared. Foster was
rumored to hunt Morlocks in New York when he could catch them alone. He did it for sport."
          Scott's lip curled in distaste. "I hope it is Foster. I've been hoping to run across him for
several years."
          Surveying the ground, he pointed to the denser greenery near the river towards the
west end of the park, indicating that was where he wanted Jean to set them down.
          As they touched down amidst a heavier section of unkempt folliage, Jean said, "Scott,
remember that we're here on a rescue mission."
          "Oh, I won't forget, Red. I just wouldn't mind if Foster happened to get in the way."
          :: Quinn... tactical update. The manifestation I've been tracking, which I assume is your
fleeing woman, is about forty meters east-south-east of your position and stationary. There
are four other human signatures in the park besides your group, and three more just entered
by the main gate and are separating. Two tightly spaced active manifestations are
approaching at high speed from the north-west, and they seem to match the two from your
previous encounter with the mob the other day, though it is difficult to be certain. ::
          For the several thousandth time, Quinn thanked the powers that be for having Collie on
his side.
          :: Great job, bella. Better send my back-up suggestion to the Prof. Keep up the good
work, and warn me when the air-force arrives. ::
          :: Flatterer. You just love me for my brain. ::
          He blew her a techno-kiss. She responded with the impression of a laugh.
          :: Not right now, dear. My husband's due home any time. ::
          Quinn slapped Cyclops on the shoulder to get his attention, then went through a quick
set of gestures to show the position of their rescuee, that there were three bad-guys spreading
out across the front of the park, and that there were another two bogies coming in by air.
          Scott nodded acknowledgment, praying one last time that Harlequin wasn't a sleeper for the
other side.
          Jean had missed much of the exchange between the two, and touched her husband's
mind.
          ::Scott, what's wrong?:: she thought at him.
          ::Three armed men just entered the park, and two unknown figures are flying in from
the direction of the center of town. We need to find her and get out.::
          Shifting back to sign language, Scott directed Jean to the right in the direction of the
river, Quinn to the center towards their objective, and he went to the left, angling closer to the
three gunmen. Quinn kept silent, but inside he questioned the wisdom of putting the only
member who wasn't fairly bullet-proof up against guns. Oh, well, Cyke was the boss...
          Just as the others moved out of sight amidst the heavier foliage, another message
reached Quinn.
          :: The two active manifestations are arriving at your location now, but are remaining at
about fifteen meters above ground level, moving slowly. They are behaving in a manner
similar to the two you encountered during your intervention on Jubilee and Husk's behalf. ::
          :: Acknowledged. ::
          The park wasn't large. It was just a couple of acres stretched out along the river that
had once been the site of many boating parties and picnics. But with the onset of urban decay
and never enough funding to go around, what had once been a wonderful swath of shaded
paths had become a bit of inner city jungle, shunned by most law-abiding folks. Visibility was
limited to a few feet in many places, except a smaller area of lawn near the park entrance.
          Moving quietly along the overgrown track, it was Jean that was the first to encounter the
opposition. As she entered the tiny clear-space, the man in fatigues was facing away. He had
been concentrating on tracking their quarry, and the movement he had heard was enough to
make him concentrate ahead rather than guard his rear where Jean appeared.
          He spun back with his Ruegger drawn, but before he could squeeze off a shot, the
pistol was wrenched from his grip by an unseen force and went flying off into the undergrowth.
Then he shouted in surprise as he himself was hoisted aloft, and went sailing gently out over
the nearby river from which the park drew its name, only to be unceremoniously dropped from
about fifteen feet up. Jean hoped he could swim, but wasn't overly concerned if he couldn't.
          She pushed forward across the clearing, only to almost run head-first into one of the
park's semi-residents. An old woman, dirty, wild-eyed, and obviously homeless raised her
stick to chase off the young redhead invading her home.
          "Get out! This is my spot, not yours! You get!" and she threatened Jean again with the
make-shift club.
          "Please!" she apologized, backing away. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm just..."
          What she was just doing went unexplained because there was the sound of an energy
discharge, and a beam struck her squarely in the back.
          She didn't fall hard. She wasn't really even hurt... just stunned. She dropped to all
fours because she suddenly felt disoriented and unable to focus. What surprised her as much
was that she couldn't seem to see who fired the beam that hit her. (The last wasn't the result
of the beam but because of Fade's ability to prevent others seeing them.)
          "Bullseye!" cried a voice coming from somewhere above.
          "Shut up!" reprimanded the other. "We don't know how well it works in every case."
          The first voice replied hotly, "I can always dump your ass from up here and you can try
flappin' your arms to fly, big-shot."
          "Listen," said Fade, "there are two more of Xavier's pets out there, plus the other that
Foster was chasing. That one must have called Xavier for help and he sent these three." He
began to scan the undergrowth for the remaining X-Men.
          He didn't see the end of the staff protruding from a particularly large-leafed variety of
plant.
          "Bad time to sit and argue, guys," Quinn said softly, and a highly-focused pressor beam
flicked out, catching Skyhook squarely in the side of the head.
          The airborne mutant felt as if he had been sucker-punched by Evander Holyfield, and
his world exploded into sparks. Skyhook's ability to keep them aloft failed, and both he and
his partner tumbled out of control to the ground, bringing another squawk of outrage from the
old woman who had been threatening Jean moments before.
          They hit the ground hard, both badly stunned by the crash. If it hadn't been for the
undergrowth that helped to cushion their fall, they might have been more severely hurt. As it
was, Skyhook was out cold, while Fade was so badly battered that he couldn't concentrate
enough to make himself vanish. It didn't help him that some crazy old bag lady was whacking
him with a stick and yelling incoherently about what he had done to her home.
          "Come on, and stay close," Quinn said to Natalya, pushing his way toward the figures.
          Not more than a couple of minutes before, with the assistance of Columbina, he had
discovered Natalya hiding in the undergrowth. He had quickly identified himself as being from
the mansion and there to help. She might have hesitated had he not looked so completely
unlike Foster and his comando-wanna-bes. As it was, she was extremely relieved to have
found a friendly face, and was willing to follow his lead.
          As they moved into the small clearing, Quinn deactivated his web and slowly moved
toward the bag-lady, holding one hand up in a gesture of peace.
          "Easy, mother, easy. He's not gonna hurt anyone in that condition."
          Looking to Jean, who was still on hands-and-knees, he asked, "You okay, Jean?"
          "I'm dizzy... but I think I'm alright. I can't sense anything, though. It's like my psy is
packed in cotton."
          The old woman looked up at the extremely unlikely pair approaching... one was a tall
man with long hair, mustache and goatee, carrying a staff, while the other was a shorter
woman who was completely covered with soft greyish fur.
          "Who do you think you are... Little John and the Easter Bunny?" She stopped beating
the semi-conscious Fade for the moment, but held her stick at the ready to take on this new
possible threat. Honestly, it was getting as bad a Grand Central Station here. She was
definitely going to have to think about changing residences.
          "That's right," nodded Quinn, "and I'm here to give to the poor." He reached into his
pocket and produced a small group of twenty-dollar bills, probably a couple of hundred dollars
worth. "I'm sorry about the damage to you home," though the only sign of a home that he
could see was a few sheets of dirty cardboard protruding from under the forms of Fade and
Skyhook. He offered the money to the old woman. "I hope this will pay for any damages."
          The woman known as Riverview Gracie looked suspiciously at the man. He might be
offering her money, and he seemed friendly enough, but his stick was a lot bigger than hers.
          "I'm not looking for charity. I'm not a pan-handler. I just want to be left alone."
          "I know that. I'm just offering to pay for damages. These two," he nodded towards the
barely moving Fade and Skyhook, "aren't my friends, but the woman is, and I feel responsible.
I just want to make good on a debt is all. If you take the money, I'll consider the matter settled,
and we can get these guys out of your way and you can go back to your life."
          Gracie wasn't stupid or crazy, she was just eccentric. She knew as well as Quinn that
the money he offered wasn't for damages... it was the only apology he could make for their
world crashing in on her privacy, the only thing she still had that she had been able to count
on. She decided to let him off the hook.
          "Done," she said, taking the money from his outstretched hand and tucking it safely
away without counting it. "Just see that the rest of your friends don't come tromping through
my yard, will you?"
          About that time, there was the sound of several shots, answered by the sound of one of
Cyclops' optic blasts.
          Gracie glared at Quinn again. "If you bring the cops down here..." She really didn't
want to have to move, and the cops had left her alone up to this point, but if they began
searching the park, she would have to abandon her home. Vagrancy was still technically a
crime, even though most didn't prosecute it any more. She might have to go elsewhere for at
least a couple of days. Dammit, she should have gouged Mr. Merrye Man and his chinchilla
girlfriend for more money!
          Quinn was already moving. Jean had gained her feet unsteadily, but the two mutant
thugs were still only semi-conscious.
          Addressing Natalya, he asked, "Can you help her? It sounds like our other friend's in
trouble." Though he was torn between grabbing the two villains and assisting Cyclops, he
settled for removing the headpiece from Fade, settling it in place so that he could eavesdrop
on Foster, and taking the odd rifle that Fade had been carrying. He wanted that even more
than the bad guys.
          "Be careful," he said over his shoulder as he went off in search of the sounds of
combat.
          :: Collie... Jean's stunned but otherwise seems fine. Shots have been fired, and I'm
searching for the source. The woman we were looking for is safe with Jean, and two mutants
who were helping the opposition have been neutralized temporarily. Unless Jean recovers
faster than I think she will, we need that back-up plan. ::
          :: I figured something of the sort from the energy signatures I was receiving. Back-up is
on the way. The Professor reports that the individual watching the mansion has been invited
inside rather forcefully by Bishop and Polaris, and I detect no other spotters. We must have
caught them between shifts. ::
          :: Sloppy. Just can't get good spies now-a-days. ::
          Mid-way through her report, the head-piece began squawking in Quinn's ear.
          "Fade! Where are you? Get your ass over here! We've got Summers pinned down,
but we can't get close enough for a clear shot without him picking us off first. Fade? Come in,
you friggin'...!"
          Quinn hadn't ever heard enough of Fade's speech to try for an imitation, so he tried to
put the commando off guard by simply replying in what he hoped was a convincing manner.
          "Shut up, Foster! There are two more besides Summers. Just keep him pinned down
and we'll be there soon. Out." He prayed that in the heat of battle, Foster wouldn't notice any
difference in their voices.
          As he worked his way closer, he heard an occasional shot, and one of Scott's optic
blasts took out some vegetation well off to his right. There was a cry from a male voice, then
silence.
          "He got Morgan!" came the warning from Foster.
          Quinn was surprised. He had thought there were only three, and Jean had eliminated
one... he thought.
          With Collie's coaching, he came up behind what she thought was one of the remaining
assailants.
          He spotted the large crouching figure in khaki facing away, his gun aimed at some point
beyond. It was one of the men that had been leading the mob chasing Jubilee and Husk.
          Quinn set aside Slapstick and the new weapon carried by Fade, and was moving up quietly
behind him, but before he had gotten close, Foster's voice called out from somewhere to the
right, "Behind you, 'Ski!"
          Quinn accelerated, trying to cover the distance, but there were almost twenty yards of
fairly open space separating the two, and even at his top speed he couldn't close with him
before 'Ski was able to spin around and fire off three rapid shots, all of which struck Harlequin
high in the chest. The bullets hit with enough impact to cancel most of Quinn's momentum,
but Ski was momentarily unprepared when his opponent didn't go down under three direct hits,
especially when he could tell that his target couldn't be wearing a bullet-proof vest by the skin
visible through the holes his shots had left.
          "That stings, dammit!" growled the jester.
          With a spinning back kick that was so fast it blurred, Quinn knocked the gun from Ski's
hand before he could fire another round. Ski was another ex-Special Forces who had served
with Foster and Morgan, so he didn't allow himself to be surprised for more than just a second
before he was moving in to try to catch Quinn with a kick of his own. As his foot lashed out, he
reached for his k-bar, thinking that he might be able to close with his enemy and settle the
question with steel.
          He never had the opportunity.
          His foot never connected. Quinn changed directions, went under the kick and took
Ski's other leg out at the knee with a sweep that was like a sledge-hammer, buckling Ski's
supporting leg and making him lose control of his knife. In the background, another shot was
fired, only to be answered by another of Scott's optic blasts.
          Foster watched events with half an eye, trying to keep Summers covered, but when he
spotted the headset Quinn was wearing, he realized that their operation was compromised,
and that he had almost no chance against the remaining X-Men if Ski didn't take his opponent
quickly. The edge in firepower was no longer on their side.
          As Ski hit and rolled, he came back to his feet, only to find that his opponent was far
closer than he should have been. Quinn's snap-punch connected squarely before he could
bring up his guard, and for Ski, the lights went out.
          When Ski went down like a sack of potatoes, Foster decided to cut-and-run. He hated
mutants, but he hated the idea of answering to mutants for his actions even more. Leaving his
team behind sucked, but he had to report in, and to do that, he had to get away. Time for a
"strategic advance to the rear".
          As he fell back, keeping to cover as much as he could manage, Foster made the park
entrance, but as he reached it he was almost struck by the expensive car that squealed to a
stop in front. Fortunately for him, the car's brakes were in top shape, and the driver had good
reflexes.
          As the mutant-hunter made his exit, Bobby Drake's head stuck out the window of
Quinn's car and called, "Hey, anyone call for the Good Humor man?"
          Scott and Quinn reached the car at about the same time, but by then, Foster was gone,
but not before Quinn recognized him as the thrower of the molotov cocktail in the same mob
that had contained Ski. Things were beginning to make more sense now.
          "You guys need a ride?" asked Drake. He looked at Quinn and noticed several round
holes in his shirt. "New fashion statement?"
          Quinn glanced down at his perforated apparel and gave an fake nasal whine.
          "Not another one! Hangin' around with you guys is too hard on my wardrobe. Jeez!"
Scott, who was still frustrated over the mutant-hunter's escape, ignored Quinn and
turned to the driver.
          "What are you doing here, Bobby? I don't recall choosing you for this operation."
          "My fault, Scott," interrupted Quinn. "When Collie told me about the two unidentified
mutants arriving by air, I had her relay a request for back-up. Sorry for overstepping my
authority, but you were off looking for Foster and couldn't be consulted." To Bobby he said,
          "Sorry I got you in hot water, Bobby."
          The man behind the wheel shrugged.
          "Hey, I have a reputation for cooling down hot water. Besides, the Prof sent me, so I
don't see the problem."
          Summers was still trying to get up to speed.
          "What two unidentified mutants?" he asked.
          "The two that were helping fly air cover for Foster. This headset," he removed it and
offered it to Scott, "was how they coordinated. As I figure it, Foster and his playmates were
the shock troops, while the mutants helping them were the recon and high cover men who
were called in when anyone from the mansion showed up. I think the one called Fade kept
them invisible, while the other provided the transportation."
          After telling Iceman to stay with the car, Scott gestured back towards the heavy
vegetation at the back of the park, indicating that they should move as they talked.
          "Well, what happened to them? And where's Jean? And what happened to the woman
they were chasing?"
          Quinn answered the questions in reverse order.
          "I found the woman hiding in the underbrush back there. She seems fine. But Jean got
hit by some kind of stun ray that Fade was carrying, and she seems a little shaken up, but the
woman we came to help is with her. I brought down the two opposing mutants with a shot
from Slapstick."
          They found the unconscious man Cyke had taken out with his optic blast, and Quinn
noted his soaked clothing.
          "I'm impressed. This is the one Jean dumped in the river from a couple of stories up.
Foster must pick his hirelings for durability." He checked the unmoving form, found a strong
pulse, but when he checked under an eyelid, he could tell that his lights would be out for quite
a while.
          "No answers here. He's probably gonna be out for hours." They moved on.
          They came to the still unconscious form of Ski. As they bent over him, Quinn grabbed
the k-bar knife that Ski had been reaching for and sent it sailing out into the undergrowth. As
he checked his vitals, Ski gave a slight groan, showing that he would be recovering before
long. While Scott kept a lookout against the possible return of Foster, Quinn quickly patted
down the reviving form, finding an ankle holster with a hold-out pistol, a boot knife, and a beltbuckle
knife.
          "Whew! I wish I had a metal detector to check him with. But you do what you can."
          After removing the small arsenal, Quinn stripped the prone figure of belt and boots,
hog-tying him with the boot-laces, then strapping his upper arms tight to his sides with the
mesh belt.
          Scott observed, "That should hold him long enough to get him back to the mansion for
questioning. Now, where are the others?"
          Stopping momentarily to reclaim Slapstick and the new weapon from where he had
stashed them, the two men made their way rapidly back to where the others were waiting.
Gracie was nowhere to be seen, but Natalya, Jean, and Gracie's unwelcome houseguests
were still where they had been left. Natalya had grabbed a larger stick from the debris
nearby, and looked ready to use Fade for batting practice at the first sign of trouble. Skyhook
was just beginning to stir, groaning pitifully.
          Natalya was addressing the awakening flyer with her wonderfully accented English...
          "Are you hurt badly? If not, might I have a try?" She raised her stick threateningly. Fade tried
to shrink in on himself, but Skyhook was still too far gone to be duly intimidated. The sight of
the shapely, five-foot-three, softly furred female dominating the two males, the smaller of who
must have outweighed her by fifty pounds, was wonderful to behold. She glanced back as
Scott and Quinn approached, but, recognizing Quinn, returned her attention to the devils she
knew.
          Scott moved to Jean's side, concern coloring his voice.
          "Jean, darling, are you alright?"
          Weakly, she said, "I can't seem to focus. My powers... are... nnnnm..." and she brought
a hand to her head.
          "Don't try to do anything. It's all right. We'll get you home."
          "Excuse me..." said Natalya. "I am very grateful for your assistance, and would never
wish to tell my rescuers what to do, but if we do not hurry to some safe location, we may find
ourselves facing guns wielded by officers of the law, which might place us in a most awkward
position."
          Scott nodded. "Right." Turning to his wife, he asked, "Hon, can you lift us all out of
here?"
          Sadly, Jean shook her head.
          "Sorry, Scott. I can't even lift a twig. I've tried. It's like part of my mind has been shot
with Novocaine."
          The man in the ruby glasses looked toward Quinn.
          "Good thing you called for transportation." There was a slightly suspicious undertone to
his compliment.
          "All part of the service. What do you want to do about these two?" He indicated the
two prone villains.
          "That car of yours isn't built for large parties. It only seats four at best. There are
already five of us, but we can squeeze in real cozy if we need. Unless you want to give three
seats over to prisoners, I don't see any way of getting them out of here before we get our legal
fundamentals caught in a ringer. We leave them here."
          "Discretion is the better part of valor," quoted Natalya.
          "I think Hank has found a kindred spirit," observed Quinn. He hefted the new weapon
and considered using it on the two captives, knowing it wouldn't be fatal... he thought... but
might add to their discomfort. It would at least make them walk back to their lair. Then he had
a better idea.
          :: Collie, keep a close scan on the park. Watch for active manifestations. If there is
any, follow it back to where it stops and get us an address. Also, add the names 'Skyhook',
'Fade' and 'Foster' to your key words. ::
          :: Harkening in obedience, oh efendi. ::
          :: Remind me to discuss your salary later. Tell the Prof we're heading back for the car,
and we may have a prisoner, if we can figure how to bring him along. ::
          "Come on," said Cyclops. "Let's get out of here before Foster can show up with
reinforcements."
          "I think we have a case of heated agreement," quipped Harlequin. Natalya gave him a
sideways look of appraisal.
          Scott leaned down and grabbed the front of Fade's shirt with one hand and pulled his
face near to his own. The captive winced notably and gasped in pain. Quinn figured him for a
cracked collarbone... and he also figured it couldn't happen to a nicer guy.
          "You'd better pray that my wife is okay, scumbag, or I will find you and make you wish
you broke your neck in that fall!" and he shoved him back onto his co-conspirator, who was
showing more signs of life. Scott turned to Skyhook. "The same goes for you." And with that,
he scooped his wife up in his arms and moved off through the bushes, leaving Natalya and
Harlequin to bring up the rear.
          As they move along, Natalya said, "Has there been any word about my friend, Maria?
After I ran from those men, I lost track of her."
          Quinn asked, "Where did you last see her?"
          "Back at the coffee shop."
          "We haven't heard anything about her so far. Is she mutant as well?"
          She seemed taken aback by the thought.
          "Maria? No, she is just a good friend that gave me a ride here from the city. She is
between jobs, so she volunteered to drive me up."
          "If she's not obviously mutant, she's likely safe, but give me her last name, and we'll
start inquiries."
          "Her full name is Maria Anna Villa-Lobos. She's from New York City."
          "Alright. We'll see what we can find."
          :: Collie. ::
          :: What is it now, Quinn? Can't you see I'm busy? ::
          :: Enough with the wisecracks. The day you can't handle everything I've asked of you
and more is the day you're due for a overhaul. Separate inquiry on one Maria Anna Villa-
Lobos concerning her whereabouts and well-being. Limit it to the Salem Center area.
Possible assault victim, last seen in town in the company of one Natalya... wait a moment. ::
          "Natalya?" he asked.
          "Yes?"
          "You never told me your last name."
          "Oh. It's Shostakovitch."
          "How musical! Thanks."
          :: ...Shostakovitch. ::
          :: Will do. ::
          "Quinn?" asked the furry female.
          "Yes?"
          "Thank you again for coming to my assistance."
          When they were almost back to the car, the came across the bound form of Ski, who
was now conscious and had obviously been struggling with his bonds. His wrists and ankles
were growing red from the nylon bootlaces.
          Scott looked down at the low-life ex-military man with contempt.
          "I wish I had time to make you talk. I'd love to squeeze you and find out where Foster's
hold up."
          Out of sheer macho attitude, Wjolewski (his real name) struggled and swore.
          "You wouldn't get a thing out of me, freak! I'd snap your neck like a twig the first
chance I got. And I'd do the same to that bitch of yours, too!"
          Scott almost lost his temper, but he ground out, "Let's get to the car."
          Quinn had other ideas.
          "Scott, I'm sorry, but this guy's attitude just screams for major medical. We've got to
take him along or we lose our last source of info on who's behind it."
          Cyclops spun around and anger was clear on his face.
          "Listen! I'm in charge here. There's no room for him! I don't like it, I don't like him, I
especially don't like Foster, and I don't really like you at the moment, but what do you suggest
we do? Ask him to follow us in his jeep? Tie him to the hubcap? Strap him to the hood like a
deer?"
          The outburst of frustration did nothing to wipe the growing smile from Quinn's face.
          "No... but there's always the trunk."
          Scott plainly didn't think like a kidnapper. It took him a full second to see the justice
Quinn's suggestion.
          Snapping at the chance, he spun back and yelled towards the waiting car, "Bobby!
Give Quinn a hand loading this garbage!"
          Handing Slapstick and the new rifle to Natalya, Quinn called out, "Don't bother, Bobby!
Just open the trunk, would you?" And with that, he reached down, grabbed the larger man by
the belt around his arms and chest with one hand, took him by his pantleg with the other, and
lifted the struggling Ski off the ground, toting him along like some bizarre form of luggage.
          Ski began to yell as he was carried along until Quinn stopped and growled, "If you don't
shut up, I'm going to lift you by somethin' you're a lot more fond of, and that'll give you
somethin' to scream about."
          The silence was immediate.
          He continued.
          "Although I think you'd probably make more of a gargling sound at that point.
Capeesh?"
          His captive became much more docile at that point.
          Natalya unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh, and Ski spared a look of hatred mixed with
misery for her.
          Scott settled Jean into the passenger seat.
          Bobby looked at Quinn, who had broken into a dog-trot with his burden, followed by
their lovely rescuee.
          As he grabbed one end of their burden, he said to Quinn, "You guys shop in the
weirdest places. We send you out for chicken and you bring back a side of beef. Oof!" and
they deposited the unhappy Ski in the trunk, into which he barely fit.
          "He was on special." To their captive he said, "Now, you just relax for a second, and
we'll be there in no time." Then, he reached down and grabbed the unsuspecting Ski by a
spot at the base of his neck.
          For a second, Ski's eye's got large, and his mouth opened, but nothing came out but a
faint squeak. Then his eyes fluttered closed and he went limp.
          "Neat trick," observed Bobby. "Learn it from a passing Vulcan?"
          "Nah... just made him think he was back in algebra."
          Bobby smiled and said, "You know, I could get to like you." He closed the trunk lid.
          "Sorry, Bobby... I don't swing that way."
          Scott's voice came from inside the car.
          "If you two will postpone the repartee for a few moments, maybe we could get back to
the Institute before the police stop by for a friendly chat."
          Quinn was about to slide into the minimal back seat before he noticed that Scott and
Natalya already occupied all but about four inches of the available hip room.
          Seeing the problem, Natalya immediately semi-stood and leaned over the gap between
the front seats, leaving where she had been sitting open.
          "Come on! We are going to be a little intimate, but I'm sure a jail cell would seem even
more so."
          "Point taken," and he slid in back, where she promptly sat down on his lap, putting her
arms around his neck.
          "There, that is much better."
          Before he could think of a suitable reply, Scott interrupted.
          "Let's move, Bobby, but don't get a speeding ticket. We'd have a hard time explaining
our sixth passenger."
          "We could always say we were trying to sneak him into a drive-in," Bobby suggested
unhelpfully as they pulled away.
          Jean spoke up in a rather pitiful sounding voice.
          "Bobby... I've got a terrific headache and you're not helping."
          "Sorry, Jean," came the sheepish reply.

                                        ************


"ISLAM SHOCKED OVER DEATH OF LEADER

"AP--Mastafa, UAD

          "An unidentified assassin today shot and killed Abu Hamal Uman, one of the most

influential religious leaders of the Islamic faith, outside of a mosque in the town of Mastafa.

The assailant was apparently waiting for the holy man..."



                                        ************

          The robbers of the Banco Santa Marita suddenly reappeared inside their hideout
somewhere on the African continent, courtesy of Locus' talent of translocation.
          "Gahhh!" exclaimed a disgusted Sabretooth, pulling at the collar of the blue and gold
uniform he was forced to wear. "I gotta get outta this thing. It's givin' me a rash."
          "That's part of the job, Victor. We wear the suits when we do the gigs. That's the rule."
Pyro wasn't pleased with his teammate. He was team leader, not Sabretooth.
          "Well, I don't much care for rules." He was peeling away the uniform as he moved
towards the room which held his bed and few possessions.
          Pyro called after the retreating form, "And speaking of that, what was the idea with
Senorita Blow-job? We're there to do a job and get out, not amuse ourselves with the local
talent while out teammates do all the work!" He moved to a phone on a nearby table and
began dialing in a report.
          "The job got done," came the unconcerned reply, "and I did my share. You got a
complaint, we can settle it real fast." His tone told Pyro exactly how the complaint process
would be resolved, probably with numerous broken bones on Pyro's part.
          Locus said, "Stuff that! Let's see the pay-off." She took one of the bags and slid the
tray out onto the table. Her teammates produced similar trays until five trays were laid out.
          "Victor!" she called. "Where's your bag?"
          The bag sailed out of the other room and was barely caught by Relay.
          "Christ! You want to be careful with those? There only worth about five million."
          "Yeah, yeah..."
          The last tray joined its mates on the table, and most of the team gathered to get a good
look at the result of their day's activities. Each tray held about a hundred or so magnificent
deep green gems, each reflecting viridian light back at the observer.
          Knock-out said, "I do love emeralds. Their so nice and... colorful." She ran a finger
playfully along the side of one of the trays. She did it in a suggestive manner, the same way
she did most everything. The uniform she wore had been tailored to her specifications to
show off her natural features, which included a remarkable amount of cleavage and some very
long, shapely legs. Strictly an amateur criminal up to this time, she had chosen the team
name Knock-out as a play on words, describing both her mutant ability and (she felt and many
agreed) her appearance.
          On the other hand, Locus was all business.
          "Well, these should net us about three million each. That's about what we'd get total if
we tried to fence these." She began to pack the precious stones back for transport. "Not bad
for one day's work."
          Freeze-frame said as he walked away, "Good. If I am needed, I will be in my room."
          Other than then necessary, he seldom associated with the others.
          Pyro hung up the phone and said, "Okay, the transfer's set. Locus, you know the spot?"
          "No trouble."
          "Good. Take the stones and drop 'em with the Arab. He'll give you payment, and you
come straight back here. Got it, ducks?"
          Locus snorted as if dealing with a moron.
          "I'm there." And then she was gone.
          As she vanished, Sabretooth returned, his fake X-Men uniform traded for t-shirt and
jeans.
          "How long's it gonna take her ta get back with our shares?"
          "At least thirty minutes," replied Pyro. "The Arab said they'd need to confirm weight and
quality before paying."
          "So... we got a little time to burn."
          He moved closer to Knock-out, looking her over carefully, taking extra time to examine
her very full uniform top, and she smiled invitingly at the huge man.
          "See something you like?"
          "I smell somethin' I like even better." He gave a notable sniff. "Somethin' like bitch in
heat."
          Knock-out wasn't offended. In fact, she had been quite excited by what he had done at
the bank. The violence... the danger... the pure animalistic lust he showed. With her natural
streak of exhibitionism, she was ready to do Victor there in the main room.
          "I can be very bitchy sometimes."
          He circled her once, taking another sniff as he went, and Knock-out gave a shiver.
          She was less than pleased when he then moved over to Relay and gave the blonde a
sniff as well.
          "Make that 'bitches'. You get off on violence, too, eh, Sparky? You enjoy the show at
the bank? You want some of what that little Latina got?"
          His nose might tell him that Relay was excited sexually by pulling off the robbery, but it
couldn't tell him that he was not even close to being in the running. To her, Victor was a
gross, uncouth Neanderthal with as little sexual appeal as a moldy rug. Pyro on the other
hand... he was a long way from her dream, but he had that lean, wiry build that she preferred
on men. Under the circumstances, she could make do. Besides, she liked his Aussie dialect
a lot.
          "I'd rather do Bobo the Dancing Bear," she said lazily. She didn't even look at him
when she said it. Her hand idly reached over and touched the floor lamp near by, and when
she held out her other hand, she said, "But if you want, I'm sure I could give you a hand-job
that would give you a charge." Electricity arced across between her fingers with a loud
crackle.
          With a snort, Sabretooth said, "Well, I guess that means that Flame-boy here get's
lucky. Good. Maybe it'll loosen up his tight ass."
          Dismissing her from his thoughts, he returned to the gorgeous brunette.
          "So, sweet cheeks, you want to get to know Little Victor better?" He rubbed a huge,
paw-like hand down one side of his fly, showing her who "Little Victor" was.
          Relay made a retching sound, and Pyro said, "Get a room, mate!"
          "Stuff it, momma's boy." He said it without even trying to make it sound like a threat.
His attention was elsewhere already. "I like it right here." He settled his impressive frame into
an overstuffed chair in the middle of the room, showing he had no intention of going anywhere.
          Not put off at all by his crudity, Knock-out purred teasingly, "I don't know. What do I get
out of it?"
          "You mean besides..." He undid his fly.
          Knock-out's eyes got large.
          Relay said, "I am so outta here." She stopped for a moment and said to Pyro, "You
coming?"
          "Yeah." Then, when he realized what she had said, "Yeah, sure, babe. Right with you.
Leave these love-birds alone." He put a possessive arm around the blonde's shoulders and
steered her towards his quarters.
          As they left, Sabretooth idly stroked one hand over the huge erection standing out of his
jeans. It was in proportion to the rest of him... huge. Standing about fourteen inches in length,
it curved upwards aggressively, like some obscene monument to the tasteless. As big around
as most men's wrists, it was enough to make most women cringe just looking at it.
          But not Knock-out. While it was the largest erection she'd ever seen, she had never
come across one that she couldn't handle.
          "As impressive as that may be, a girl likes a little encouragement." She slowly began
pulling down the zipper at the front of her uniform, gradually exposing more of her marvelous
chest as she went. She didn't know how far she could push Victor before he went animal on
her, but she definitely wanted it rough.
          "You want encouragement? How 'bout this?" He reached into his pocket and brought
out a magnificent emerald, about twenty carats in size and probably worth almost a half-million
dollars. "How 'bout I give you a really nice emerald, and you give me some really good head?"
          "Victor!" she said smiling. "You wicked man, you! Holding out on us like that!" She
eagerly reached out for the gem.
          "Call it a pain-in-the-ass charge for Flame-boy yappin' in my ear all day."
          As her hand closed over the emerald, his hand closed around her upper arm, insuring
that she wouldn't have a sudden change of heart once she had the fabulous jewel.
          "Why, Victor, don't you trust me?" She tucked the gem into the top of one boot for safe
keeping, then returned to slowly unzipping the front of her uniform, showing that she had no
intention of going anywhere.
          "Quit talkin' and get to work, chippie." His hands reached out and roughly pushed the
uniform back from her shoulders, baring her impressive breasts. As one paw began to roughly
grope her chest, the other took her by the hair, and he pulled her head down roughly to his
waiting hard-on.
          Knock-out barely had time to wet her full lips and open then before he stuffed her mouth
full of his mammoth penis. He pushed her head down further and further until she gagged on
the sheer size of him. She immediately realized that she had agreed to more than she could
accomplish easily.
          "That little Spanish whore did better than that!" His hand tightened on the back of her
neck, putting pressure on her spine, letting her know that he could snap her neck at any
moment he chose. He thrust roughly into her tightly ovaled lips several times, making her gag
each time, but there was simply no way she could take any more of him from the position she
was in. She put a hand around the shaft of the huge member being rammed into her mouth
and began stroking in time to her lips, hoping to please him this way. The beautiful brunette
kept it up for another thirty seconds or so, trying desperately to please the man-beast, but
soon tears were openly rolling down her cheeks.
          "Enough of this shit!" he snapped, and he pulled her off his erection. Dragging her over
to a nearby table, he pulled her backwards across it until she lay flat on her back, her head
hanging back off the edge.
          "Now let's see how you do."
          Coming up to her from what was above her head, he pulled her head back and again
pushed his huge dick into her luscious lips and began roughly fucking her mouth.
While the position was less comfortable, she was able to finally do more than take just a
few inches of him. Stretching her neck and relaxing her throat, she swallowed and began
doing her best to suck his gigantic cock.
          "That's more like it, sweet cheeks." He pushed forwards even more, and more of his
impressive equipment disappeared down her throat. She moved her head back and forth
slightly, and even more vanished.
          Pushing forward again, another two inches slid down her throat, but by now she
desperately needed to breathe, and that was impossible with her throat completely filled with
Sabretooth's tool.
          He stopped pushing and began to pump himself in and out of her mouth, his huge
hands groping her fabulous breasts mercilessly. He was rough to the point she knew that
she'd be bruised the next day.
          Running out of air fast, Knock-out did something she hadn't planned on... she started to
panic. She began pushing at him frantically and struggling, until finally, just before she was
going to black out, he withdrew enough for her to get a deep breath.
          "You're no better that that little Hispanic slut. I just guess you'll have to do something
else to earn your pay."
          He flipped her over so that she lay face-down on hard, cold table, her breasts
compressed against the flat surface, her legs hanging off the edge so that she was bent over
at the waist. Pulling aside the narrow band of material pulling tightly between her thighs,
Victor exposed her crotch, and Knock-out began to have very serious doubts about accepting
his challenge.
          "If you can't handle me the easy way, let's see how you do this way."
          She had been relaxing herself as much as she could manage, preparing herself for him
to shove himself into her. This she was sure she could handle, and even enjoy. The feel of
that huge, hard cock filling her sweet pussy... pushing against her eager clit...
          She felt him as he began to push forward, but her pussy wasn't his target.
          With nothing more than her saliva as lubricant, Sabretooth began to force his cock into
her asshole.
          Knock-out gasped loudly as the pain first struck her, but she couldn't even manage to
form coherent words. She'd had anal sex with dozens of men in her life, some quite sizable,
and she'd always enjoyed the mixture of pleasure and pain greatly, but nothing had prepared
her for this. Here, there was no pleasure.
          The huge head of his steel hard prick continued to press harder against her rectum, and
she again cried out wordlessly, sobbing as Sabretooth ignored her agony in his animal lust.
He grunted slightly as he flexed his hips a bit, and the crown of his cock finally passed the tight
constriction, and Knock-out sobbed out again, tears again streaming freely down her pretty
features.
          Though the worst of the pain was past, the woman impaled on the table still cried each
time he roughly pushed forward, forcing himself more deeply into her. Her fingers clawed
helplessly at the table top, scratching furrows in the polished wood surface as he continued to
force more and more of his length inside her.
          "Yeah... you do better this way, don't ya, chippie?" With all but a couple of his fourteen
inches buried in her agonized posterior, he began to pump himself into her, and Knock-out
began to cry out in time to his thrusts, "Ahhh-uh! Ahh-uh!"
          "You got a sweet ass, girlie," and he groaned slightly as he anally fucked her.
          Somewhere in the midst of her pain, she found that the sensations were changing to
something else, and before long she was crying out for a different reason. Tears still ran
unchecked down her lovely face, but now she had found that place on the border between
agony and ecstasy, and she stayed there willingly. The pain was incredible, but so was the
pleasure.
          Sabretooth began to speed up his thrusts, grunting as he rutted away, building towards
his release. Her cries began to rise in pitch and volume, losing their tortured quality and taking
on a much more erotic tone.
          Then, unbelievably, she was coming, her cries of passion ringing out as her nails
gouged onto the table and she shook with release. Each thrust by Victor made her exclaim
and shake again, and though there was still pain for her, it was an exquisite pain that she
clutched at gladly. She started to come a second time when Victor drove deeply into her,
groaned mightily, and then he was coming along with her. His climax was so strong that she
could actually feel his cock buck with each massive contraction as it delivered its load inside
her.
          After he had finished and was momentarily sated, he roughly pulled out of her, causing
her to exclaim and sob yet again. He was completely unconcerned as he tucked himself back
inside his pants.
          "I guess I'll let ya keep the emerald, sweet cheeks, even though you didn't really earn it.
But I guess I'll just consider this a down payment. Ya can earn the rest later."
          Leaving her lying across the table, exhausted and in pain, Victor Creed casually walked
over to the chair he had occupied earlier and dropped his considerable bulk into it, ignoring the
woman he had just used so thoroughly.
          When Locus reappeared a few minutes later, Knock-out still hadn't moved, her
disheveled and semi-naked state a testament to what had gone before. Her anus still gaped
some and a heavy trail of semen ran from it. Sabretooth was sitting in "his" chair, completely
unconcerned.
          As Locus looked at Knock-out and then at Sabretooth, a cruel half-smile tugged at her
mouth. She really didn't like the beautiful woman and her slutty manner anyway. Looks like
she got what she deserved.
          She tossed a bank passbook to a reputable Swiss financial house on the table next to
Knock-out, saying "That's your account, with your password." She moved on as if nothing was
amiss.
          "There's yours." She tossed another in Sabretooth's lap. "Next time, try to earn it."
          "Stuff it, sweetie." He didn't even bother to try to make it threatening. Victor was always
a bit more relaxed after a fuck.
          She looked back at Knock-out, who had yet to move as she lay over the table, breathing
deeply with a slightly shocky look on her face.
          "So," asked Locus innocently, "did I miss anything while I was gone?"
          "Nah," replied Sabretooth. "Same as always."

                                        ************

          On the way back to the Xavier mansion, Quinn had the interesting experience of having
the attractive lady on his lap suddenly become far less furry. The process took just over two
seconds, and may have been one of the most curious events Quinn had ever experienced.
          "There," she said in a relieved voice. "That is much less conspicuous." She smiled at
Quinn and Scott. "It is somehow interrelated to my increased speed and agility. I can perform
it whenever I desire, but it is an involuntary response when I feel threatened. When I no
longer feel threatened, then it goes away." She shrugged, and the gesture caused Quinn to
be reminded of how attractive and just how extremely female the person occupying his lap
was.
          "I take it you don't feel threatened now?" he asked.
          "Why?" She leaned back and gave him a playful look. "Am I in some danger?"
          "Depends on what activities you consider dangerous."
          Cyclops cleared his throat pointedly.
          "If you kids wouldn't mind waiting to get a room...?"
          "I am sorry," she apologized. "You have been quite kind, risking yourselves to help me.
As you have seen, I do not react normally under stress."
          Drake opened his mouth to launch some verbal sally when Jean said warningly,
          "Bobby..."
          He closed his mouth and concentrated on his driving.
          They pulled into the driveway of the mansion less than a minute later.
          Several other members met them at the car. Forge took possession of the unidentified
weapon for analysis. Jean was helped out and Natalya was introduced quickly. Bishop and
Logan brought out a large, sturdy blanket and after visiting the trunk of the car, returned inside
with a large bundle inside.
          Once their prisoner was no longer a concern, Rogue took charge of the woman they
had rescued.
          "Ah'll take her to mah room so she can clean up a bit. C'mon, hon." Rogue put an arm
around Natalya.
          "But I must find out about my friend, Maria."
          Rogue shot Scott a look, but he was concentrating on his wife's condition. She then
looked to Quinn as the only other team member.
          "They were separated very early. Just a minute."
          :: Columbina... status on Villa-Lobos inquiry. ::
          :: No record by that name found yet, but there was a 911 call made from a downtown
coffee establishment about the right time. An unidentified woman was taken to Sacred Heart
Hospital. No records have been entered into the hospital's computer yet, but I am keeping a
close watch. There was no mention of police involvement. ::
          :: Inconclusive, but possible. Keep me posted, oh brilliant one. ::
          :: Why, Quinn! You'll make me blush. ::
          To the waiting women, he said, "There's no official word yet. Let me make a phone
call, if you don't mind, and also let the Professor know what's happening. I'll get back to you
just as soon as I can. I promise." He held up three fingers in the Scout's sign of oath.
Rogue looked at him with narrowed eyes. She had seen where Natalya had been riding
when they arrived.
          "Sugah, y'ain't never been a Boy Scout in yo' lahfe."
          "Why, Rogue, you say the sweetest things." He winked at the two and then
disappeared inside.

                                        ************

          After a quick briefing, the Professor commented, "I must admit that we have never tried
to make a habit of taking prisoners, but your arrival seems to be changing that."
          Quinn replied, "I'm a victim of bad timing."
          "So it would seem."
          Emma had questioned Perotti, the man watching the main entrance to the mansion, and
over the Professor's reservations had read the needed information from his mind.
          "Mister Perotti here," she said, "is merely a private detective, payed by an anonymous
party to keep watch and report our movements. His client also seemed to suggest that if he
were caught, we would likely do away with him. I have, I trust, managed to convince him
otherwise.
          "He was hired about two weeks ago by phone, and knows nothing other than he was
paid his sizable retainer by a money order which was delivered by express service. The
money order was signed by one 'John Hancock'." She gave a sniff of contempt over the lack
of imagination.
          "What were his instructions?"
          Perotti answered the Professor's question himself.
          "I was told to report any arrivals and departures from the Institute. I also got a bonus
when I reported the arrival of the dude in the fancy car."
          "You mean Harlequin?"
          "They didn't give me a name, just a description."
          "Why did they want to know?"
          "When your client hires you over the phone, you can figure he doesn't want to answer
too many questions."
          "Where did you receive your communications link?"
          Emma answered, "By a drop box arranged for the purpose. Beast ran it down and it
was rented under the name of 'Tom Jefferson'."
          "I seem to be detecting a theme here."
          Bishop wanted to know what to do with their unwanted guest of a private detective.
Perotti himself observed, "Now that you know I was watching, one way or another, my
job's over. They said I only got paid so long as I wasn't caught.
          "But you know, I'm surprised you guys spotted me. I'm known for being very low profile,
and I took extra care on this job, because they were paying me about twice what I could make
on most jobs. It was the steadiest gig I'd had in years. I didn't want to mess up the gravy
train."
          "'Gravy train'?" asked Emma. "Does anyone actually say that any more?"
          Professor Xavier told Bishop, "I think we must release Mr. Perotti as soon as he wishes
to leave. To keep him here any longer might constitute kidnapping, which would cause
complicated legal questions we do not need at this time."
          "Yeah," observed the detective. "If my partner gets back and I'm missing, he'll report
first to my client, then to the police. We set it up that way for both of us in case things got
sticky."
          "Then, in that case, you are free to leave, sir. I hope you have not felt yourself ill-used
while sharing our hospitality."
          The detective rubbed his jaw. "Nah. Other than the welcome I got from John L.
Sullivan here," he indicated Bishop, "you folks done okay by me. If I screw up, most times,
least I get is a coupl'a cracked ribs. Not that I'm complainin'."
          Bishop jerked his head towards the door, and the smaller man got up to leave, but
stopped short of the door.
          "Hey, Professor... just thought you might wanna know, I'm not the only one watchin' you
folks."
          That got everyone's attention.
          "You got two guys I figure for Feds or such tryin' to keep tabs on your place here, too.
They've been by six, seven times at least every day I been here, either drivin' by real slow in a
dark sedan or a van, or set up near and dressed like workers... road crew, linemen, cable
guys... you know the type. Different outfits, but the same two guys."
          "How are you sure they are the same gentlemen?"
          The detective gave a knowing smile.
          "'Cuz of two things... one is they got on the same shoes every time, no matter what
they're dressed as. Strikes ya as kinda funny, seein' tree trimmers wearin' polished black
leather shoes."
          "And the other reason?" prompted the Professor politely.
          "Every time I've seem 'em, neither one ever takes off his sunglasses... ever."
          Xavier nodded.
          "We appreciate your information, Mister Perotti. Thank you."
          "Don' mention it. I figure I owe it to you for not givin' me a bad time."
          As he reached the door, he turned back again and said, "You know, you folks are alright
for muties." And with that, he left, followed by Bishop.
          "Higher praise one cannot have," was Emma's only comment.

                                        ************

          :: Quinn... update. Three items. Two active manifestations detected departing park for
downtown, currently tracking. Also, Maria Villa-Lobos was admitted to Sacred Heart for
treatment of multiple contusions, lacerations, and several potential fractures. The patient is
listed as being in "fair condition", and is described as "distraught, but coherent", and also
"possible victim of criminal assault". Police have been notified. ::
          :: Thanks, marvelous one. Keep up the track on our manifestations. ::
          :: Of course. ::
          :: What was the third item? ::
          :: It may mean nothing, but I just picked up a news wire concerning mutants robbing an
emerald depository in Santa Marita. At least one dead and several others injured. No
descriptions yet released, but if anything gets put into the police computers, I have a trigger in
place to route a copy to my attention. ::
          :: Good thinking. I hope it's nothing, but then again, it's good to be sure. ::
          Knowing the concern she expressed for her friend, he went off to locate the newest
guest to the household. After asking a passing Iceman for directions (and retrieving his keys,)
he found Rogue's quarters easily.
          Rogue opened the door at his knock.
          "Is Natalya here? I have news."
          The marvelous accent responded from somewhere beyond Rogue.
          "Please, Rogue, have him come in."
          "Hon, why don't ya'll put on somethin' a bit more..."
          "I am sure Quentin will not be shocked. Please? It is important."
          She stood aside so that he could enter.
          Natalya was obviously fresh from the shower, a large white towel wrapped around
herself as she fluffed her wet hair with another.
          "You have heard something?"
                    He nodded and moved closer so he didn't have to speak across the room.
"Maria's okay. She was taken to Sacred Heart Hospital for observation after the attack,
but she's listed in fair condition, and will probably be released as soon as the doctors satisfy
themselves that she's fine."
          She began to gather her clothes, obviously preparing to go somewhere.
          "I must see her. Quentin, will you drive me?"
          Rogue interrupted.
          "Whoa! Slow down, sugah! Ya'll just missed bein' her roommate in the hospital, if not
the morgue. I wouldn't go rushin' back to give 'em another shot."
          Quinn nodded.
          "Rogue's right. Maria is safe where she is, and you can't help her by making yourself a
target again."
          "But she was hurt because she was with me. I must go to her."
          "Hold it! You may just be putting her in more danger. Let me make a couple of quick
calls first. Rogue, can I borrow your phone?"
          His first call was to the hospital.
          "Yes, I was hoping to speak to Maria Villa-Lobos. She was admitted earlier today.
Yes... I'll wait." He covered the receiver with one hand and said, "They're putting me through
to her room." He waited as the call was connected. "Hello? Miss Villa-Lobos? Just a
second, please." He handed the phone to Natalya.
          "Maria? Are you alright? I'm so sorry! Those men were after me and they hurt you and
I'm so sorry! It should never have happened..." She continued making apologetic sounds
while Rogue and Quinn spoke quietly across the room.
          "We can't let her out of here until we're sure she's safe."
          "We can try, sug, but she strikes me as bein' kinda head-strong."
          "Just help me convince her that it's in her friend's best interest for her to stay clear."
          Rogue nodded. "That maht work. Prob'ly true, too."
          "I'll make arrangements to see that Maria's safe and cared for as soon as Natalya's
done."
          He moved back toward their new guest and observed, "Natalya, dear? You're repeating
yourself. She knows you're safe. Let Maria have some rest."
          They listened to the one end of the conversation.
          "Maria? I'll be there soon. Okay?...
          "No, I'll be fine. I just need to see you...
          "Maria...
          "No, I'm sure they're not watching for me any more...
          "I have friends with me...
          "But I really would like to...
          "But what about you?..."
          This time there was a much longer pause as Natalya listened. As she did, Quinn and
Rogue realized that Maria was making their case for them.
          Finally, Natalya nodded in agreement.
          "Very well. I will not come. I just wish I could see you...
          "Yes. Me, too...
          "I will see you soon. Alright?..
          "I love you, too. Get some rest."
          She hung up the phone and stood silent for a minute.
          "Maria agrees with you. She says that it will be more dangerous for her if I come, so I
will stay away. She is alone, but I will stay away." She sounded bitter, but accepted the
inevitable.
          Quinn reached for the receiver.
          "Here. Let me make another call."
          He dialed another number.
          "Ed? Quinn, here. How's Jennifer?...
          "Glad to hear it...
          "Yes, I know I promised I'd come by for dinner some night...
          "No, Ed, this week's not good. I've got some major things going on right now...
          "Yes, I'm sure Jennifer's friend is a lovely girl, and I'll be happy to meet her...
          "Sure, just as soon as things settle down here...
          "As a matter of fact, you can do me a favor. A-one priority. You'll want to take notes.
I'll wait...
          "Ready? A woman was admitted to Sacred Heart Hospital in Salem Center, New York,
today. Her name is Maria Villa-Lobos. I want her to have a private room, and put a bodyguard
on her... female. Someone friendly but capable that we've used before. And add two large
male security types outside the room to discourage visitors. Not even lab coats go in without
positive i.d., and the patient is never left alone, even with a doctor.
          "I want us to take care of the bill. I don't want her to worry about where the money's
coming from..."
          Natalya said quietly to Rogue, "Is Quentin...?" She let the question die away.
          "Rich? Single? Into little boys?" Her new friend shrugged. "Danged if Ah know, sug.
Ah've just known him a couple o' days, and all Ah know is he can cook, fight, make me laugh,
and claims to give good back rubs. Looks good in his skin, too." When Natalya gave her an
appraising look, Rogue quickly said, "No, not 'cuz o' that. Funny story. Ah'll have to tell ya'll
later." They went back to eavesdropping on his phone call.
          "...Also, find out what her interests and talents are, and see if we have an opening in the
Manhattan area that she would fit. She's between jobs, and she did a big favor for a friend of
mine...
          "I know it's not like me to pull strings, but..."
          He listened for several moments, then said quietly, "Ed... she took a beating because
she was with a mutant... a friend of mine. Okay?..
          "Yeah. You know my feelings...
          "Good. And make sure those bodyguards are in place in the next hour. This a debt of
honor, Ed. No room for mistakes...
          "Okay. I'll let you get on it...
          "Yeah, it's good to hear from you, too. Give my love to Jen...
          "Yes, I remember. Dinner as soon as this calms down.
          "And Ed... thanks."
          He hung up the receiver and turned to Natalya. Both women were watching him with a
curious expression on their faces. It was obvious they had both overheard his conversation.
          "That's taken care of. Maria will be fine, and she'll have someone keeping an eye on
her at all times, so you can relax."
          "That was not necessary."
          He brushed her objection aside.
          "Let's just say I consider it a point of honor on my part, and let it go at that."
          The blonde woman moved closer.
          "And I just realized that I did not thank you for saving my life earlier."
          He smiled charmingly.
          "It was my pleasure."
          "No. I wish to thank you personally." She moved close and put her arms up, clearly
expecting a hug.
          He stepped up, but when he put his arms around her, she pulled his face down and
turned the hug into a very sultry kiss. Her lips opened, and she did her best to make him feel
just how grateful she was.
          She seemed to feel very, very grateful.
          About twenty seconds into the kiss, the towel that was wrapped around Natalya slid
unnoticed to the floor.
          Another twenty seconds or so later, when the kiss showed on signs of losing steam,
Rogue cleared her throat and said, "Maybe Ah should give y'all some privacy." She began to
move towards the door.
          Reluctantly, Natalya broke the kiss. She still hugged Quinn close, then finally released
him.
          "No. I'm sorry, Rogue. That was rude of me. But I wanted Quentin to know how greatly
I appreciate his gallantry."
          Without any sign of embarrassment, she bent and retrieved her towel, wrapping it back
around her, but only after Quinn had plenty of opportunity to observe just how much of Natalya
there was under it.
          Rogue found herself in an eddy of mixed emotions. She admitted to herself that she
was drawn to Harlequin but could do nothing about it, and the sight of the very female Natalya
giving him an all-out tonsillectomy made her both embarrassed and jealous. She tried to
cover with her usual teasing sense of humor.
          "Oh? Ah appreciate gallantry as much as anyone." Knowing fully well that Quinn knew
what affect her power had on men, she moved closer and said, "You care to try that on me,
stud?" She leaned forwards at the waist, making fish-kisses in his direction.
          Quinn looked at her, weighed the risks, and made a quick decision. He turned to
Natalya and said, "Pardon me a moment."
          Kicking his web onto its lower setting, he stepped in and planted a big kiss on Rogue's
shocked lips.
          Her eyes grew huge in surprise, then when she had recovered, she gave him a push
away, bowling him completely over backwards. He turned the push into a roll and came back
to his feet with a flourish like a magician finishing a trick.
          Rogue seemed furious.
          "Ya danged fool! You tryin' to put yo'self in a coma or somethin'? Why'd ya'll do
somethin' so stupid?"
          Quinn simply stood there, grinning his ass off, and Rogue quickly ran out of steam.
          "Say, why ain't ya'll in a coma, or unconscious, or somethin'?" She was clearly thrown
by his apparent immunity to the primary effect of her mutation.
          "My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure." He struck a comic
melodramatic pose.
          "Sugah, if yo' heaht is pure, it's the only part o' ya'll that is."
          "The defendant stood on the Fifth Amendment, and then beat a hasty retreat before he
fell off." With a grand flourish and bow, he said, "Ladies..." and swept out of the room.
          "Have I missed something here?" asked Natalya.
          "You ain't the only one, sugah."
