Alright, moving swiftly into Act II.

Thank you all who've been reading -- thanks Yarrharr for the review at the Prologue and Time and Fate and smearedliner for the reviews on the last chapter of Image of the Invisible. Let's just say that the X-Men are more delayed-reactive...and no, they probably won't show. DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU'VE READ THE FIRST STORY IN THIS SERIES!

kmf's stuff: Sorry. I take French. Shoulda caught that, but my teachers just never mentioned it. Ok, enjoy! It's short but good. Really!

curt's crap: (Thanks again Yarrharr.) Remember all, reviews equal love, Zippos and cards!

ps -- if this was a movie, most likely Christian Bale would play Adam Gearson.

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Prologue

Adam Gearson's face was clean-shaven, rather angular, rather plain. His most distinguishing features were his cupid's bow mouth and a scar through his left eyebrow.

Right now, it was hard to go anywhere without seeing that face.

Adam Gearson had stepped up to take the late Warren Worthington II's place at the head of the anti-mutant front. It was not that he was anti-mutant honestly...he saw it as a matter of science. The mutants were fascinating little lab-rats. Anomalies of a sort, though science had made amazing steps in finding out about them. Their powers fascinated Gearson most of all... How did they work? What was it that decided what type of powers a mutant would have?

Gearson was a protégè of the infamous William Stryker. He was Worthington's replacement. And he had always been a zealot in his studies.

Now his mission was to figure out what to do with the mutants -- he either had to assimilate them -- neutralise them -- or annihilate them. Judging from the nationwide reactions, Choice Two was the most efficient option.

But he'd get a few subjects to..."test"...before it all was over.

"Alright, den."

"Alright, then?"

"Yeah, John. We got a war goin' on. We need t' get as many rallied 'round us in a central area as we can."

"And where the fuck do you propose we go to do that, Remy?" John glared across the table from his friend. "We can't stay in the Bronx forever, man. They're gettin' closer to findin' us out."

Remy smirked. John had come to find that simple expression could infuriate him like nothing else. "Well...out West, young man. Out West."

"To?"

"I don' kno." Remy looked over to Ian. He threw a pen at him. Ian stopped it in mid-air and sent it towards the map they had pinned up on one wall.

"Dere," Remy said, leaning across the table to look as John walked over to the map. The pen had stabbed in the middle of Nowheresville, Montana.

"So our training ground is gonna be in the middle of nowhere?"

"Where better, sir? Unless you want to move it up to Canada," Ian inputted.

"Fuck that. Alright." He turned to face his top two men. "Ian, get Jensen out on the communication lines." John himself still didn't understand how that all worked, but somehow every proactive mutant was in touch with his crew and techno-whiz Jensen controlled it all.

"Yes, sir."

"John... Just, John. Thanks, Ian." Ian gave a sharp nod then headed out. John turned to Remy.

"So, ready to play teacher again?"

(The lyric in the page break is from "Violence Fetish" by Disturbed.)