A DEBT PAID
The man in the SUV watched as the woman went inside the apartment building. As locations went, it was a pretty good hiding place—a rundown dump in an urban combat zone where no one was bound to think of looking for her.
The hot dogs aren't bad, though, he thought as he finished his meal. He washed it down with some bottled water. Then he blacked out the windows of his SUV and began to change into his uniform. When he was done, he drove the SUV away from the woman's building to someplace unobtrusive.
Rebecca locked the door behind her as she entered her apartment. So this was the consequence of helping out the government—a small flat in the bad side of town and every law enforcement agency still after you.
Still, it wasn't so bad. She wasn't completely helpless. She knew how to disguise herself and how to blend into a crowd so that no one could see her. She could defend herself in situations that warranted it. She knew she could survive.
She put the paper bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. Eggs, milk, some vegetables, bread, bacon…not exactly what she was used to eating but she would make do for now, at least until she could figure out a way to get to her money.
She was putting away the groceries when she heard someone behind her say: "Freeze."
An intruder! But why hadn't she heard him come in? Rebecca wondered if she would be able to fight her way out of her current situation but the answer came in the form of cold steel pressing against her nape. She didn't need to look to know what it was.
"Sweet dreams, Commander Darkholme," the intruder told her. Then he squeezed the trigger. Rebecca felt something sharp hit her. She tried to turn, tried to see who it was that had shot her, who it was that had called her by what she called her slave name, but all she saw was a mask and a gun.
Then everything went dark.
"You're awake."
Rebecca blinked a couple of times, trying to get her eyes to focus properly. Someone snapped her fingers and she turned her attention towards the man in the chair in front of her—he was in something resembling a military uniform and wore a mask. All of a sudden, she realized that he was the intruder who shot her.
She tried to move but found that she was tied to a chair with plastic restraints. "Who are you and why are you doing this?" she asked as she tested how tightly the restraints were tied.
"My operative designation code is The Lone Wolf, Commander Darkholme," the masked man told her.
"That's not my name," she said. "Stop calling me that."
"Why should I, commander?" The Lone Wolf asked. "It was good enough for you before? Or do you prefer Mystique?"
"Mystique is dead too," Rebecca told him.
"Is she now?" The Lone Wolf stood up and approached her. Without warning, he slapped her hard across the face. Rebecca let out a cry of pain.
"Mystique is dead, is she?" He slapped her again, this time with his left hand. Rebecca tasted blood from a torn lip.
"Well, if you say she is, then let's make it so." The Lone Wolf produced another gun and aimed it between her eyes.
Rage welled up in Rebecca's soul—rage and the will to live. That's when she felt it—her body was changing…
The bullet missed her as her body liquefied and oozed out of her restraints. When she regained her solid form, she attacked instinctively. A swift kick sent the gun flying. She unleashed a flurry of blows that sent The Lone Wolf moving backwards towards the living room. She stayed on the offensive for several moments until she noticed her hands.
Her hands were blue…and her arms were scaly. Just like before. She stopped attacking The Lone Wolf and gazed at her hands and arms.
"What—what did you do to me?" she asked in disbelief.
"Call it reverse-engineering, Commander Darkholme," The Lone Wolf said, walking towards a window overlooking the street. "The cure isn't permanent. Worthington's scientists couldn't figure out how to do that. And Leech never wanted to use his powers that way either." He opened the window.
"Why? Why did you do this?" Rebecca asked.
"Call that a debt paid, Commander Darkholme," The Lone Wolf told her without looking back. He stepped out onto the ledge and, with a wave of his hand, jumped. She ran to the window just in time to see him land on an SUV that had caught him. He quickly got in the vehicle through the window and sped away before anyone could stop him.
Rebecca—once again and forever Mystique—watched him leave, saying a soft goodbye.
"Thank you, Marc," she whispered. Then she shut the window and went to her bedroom. She had plans to make.