A/N: Weirdest thing: I got my tarot cards read on Tuesday, and apparently, my long-dead Grandmother thinks I need to quit slacking off and get my act together. Wow. That is so strange... And now, back to our heroes as they party in the desert. Huzzah.

Mikki raised his eyebrows. "Heavy."

"Tezla, Tezla, Tezla, why does the name Tezla sound so familiar?" Angie wracked his brain. "I swear I read something in Scientific American by a Dr. Tezla…"

St. Jimmy sneered in recognition. "Isn't Dr. Tezla that weird old dude in the Nehru jacket who's dating Nona's mom?" The sainted guitarist expertly dodged the wrench thrown at his head without looking. "Yeah, that's the guy. Damn. He's old. Like, old enough to know the lyrics to elevator music old."

"Shut up, Jimmy!"

"Eat me."

Taro observed this exchange, half exasperated and half amused. How they managed to keep things together throwing around such insults (and hardware) was beyond him. The former Osaka racing star was much more reserved than his young friend, almost shy. He would never consider acting out in such a manner, but this was commonplace with the Foundlings. St. Jimmy had explained it like this:

"Oh, you know us sensitive artists… this is how we play!"

According to Jimmy, he and Nona were like a brother and sister now. They annoyed and teased each other just for laughs.

Taro blinked as he realized his brain had completely glossed over a very important part of the conversation and leaned towards Tork.

"Tezla's dating your aunt?"

A quick glare told him to drop the subject and Taro nodded lightly with his usual solemn expression.

Demitri moved to address the Maniac leader, flanked by his girlfriend on one side and the Dinner Shifters on the other.

"What's all this about a race, Tork?"

"Jah! Vas isst?"

"Quiet, Bjorn," he hissed, hushing the Latverian. "This sounds like something big, even for the Metal Maniacs."

"Bigger than all of us," Tork confirmed. "Sorry to have to cut the party short, but we gotta move some metal." Tork raised his Drone arm, beckoning his drivers. Taro, Porkchop, and Wylde took to their cars and Mel to her motorcycle.

Demitri hollered something in Russian and the Lost Boys prepared to leave. The Dinner Shifters packed up the remains of the feast.

"We'll shadow you," Demitri told him.

Tork only shook his head. "This is supposed to be secretive, Ostrog. You weren't called. We were."

"I wasn't asking your permission, Maddox," he answered. "Besides, if this is as big as you say, you'll need all the drivers you can get."

"Ehrrgan meeghen flahrggen husker du!"

"Quiet, Bjorn!" Fucking Latverians…

Nona, Jimmy, Angie and Mikki left the Lost & Found short three Foundlings and a Lost Boy, so Demitri had found himself creatively recruiting as of late. Anya's sisters were very talented, though Tasha had declined to join, and three cut-ups from Pietro's Diner were so crazy they were up for anything. They showed quite a bit of promise, the Dinner Shifters, but Demitri had almost forgotten how annoying they could be.

And now, he was stuck with them…

Bjorn Werbbenn Jaagermann Jenssenn's parents were originally from Sweden but had moved to Latveria before he was born. He enrolled at the Latverian Central Institute for Higher Learning, located near Doomstadt. He and Jaakko were both majoring in engineering there. Or at least, they were before the rebellion.

The oppressive monarch of Latveria disappeared, leaving the throne up for grabs. And though Victor Von Doom's underlings tried to maintain control of the nation, the peasants elected to celebrate their newfound freedom by rioting in the streets. Bjorn and Jaakko barely made it out of school before it was burned to the ground. The pair of them were sure they were going to die, but a lone Gypsy showed them a secret way out of the city and into the Von Doom mountain range, where they escaped south to Symkaria.

The Gypsy, whose name was Djali Zorbitzin, lost his entire caravan in the Latverian uprising. Some were lynched by peasants; others, shot by police and thrown into mass graves.

It was a ghastly, terrible affair, and the three expatriates, lead by Djali, decided to help out anyway they could. They ended up smuggling refugees into Symkaria, Serbia, Romania, Hungary, and sometimes as far as Croatia if they had to. When Doom returned from God only knows where, the three freedom fighters went to an American embassy in Bucharest and applied for green cards. Somehow, they wound up in Vegas, working twelve hour shifts at Pietro's diner in Little Moscow.

In high school, Demitri and Mikki had both worked their butts off at Pietro's, waiting tables to earn extra cash, and the Dinner Shifters even then were crazy. Shouting at each other in four different languages; waving knives around, even making dinner with guns on the table when mobsters were eating in the restaurant.

"Well, okay, that's their life story," Alec said dryly. "But I still don't get why we're bringing the caterers."

"Dude, do you have any idea what kind of moves you need to outrun the Latverian Secret Police?" Mikki asked. "The Dinner Shifters have mad skills. They may not seem like much but they aren't guys you want on the away team."

After several hours driving through the desert the racers thought for sure they were lost; after all, the GPS had brought them to a military base. A chain link fence, fifteen feet high and topped with barbed wire, stood before them and seemed to go on for miles. At the gate were two jeeps with SHIELD insignia, loaded with armed guards. The guards eyed them with obvious suspicion. They were so close Mel could smell gun oil and hear safeties clicking off, and she shivered.

"Right, then. Who's asking for directions?"

"Shut up, Angie!"

Vert was on the verge of panic by the time he saw the third jeep approaching the main gate from the compound in the distance. He prayed his father had nothing to do with any of it, but he had no idea.

They had to be ready for anything…

From the back of his head, Angie thought he heard an appreciative chuckle, and someone who was not there whispered a suggestion; something disgusting and terrible. Horrified, the drummer checked the time and popped a pill. The stranger in his eyes muttered with disapproval. Angie gripped his steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

There was a bit of a commotion amongst the guards who piled efficiently out of their jeeps. The gates of the base slid back automatically. The third jeep pulled over, and the driver stepped out.

Tork's jaw dropped in shock as painful memories came flooding back to him. His rage was so intense that he could not move. Before the Maniac leader stood the subject of his nightmares, clean and whole. That God-forsaken blood traitor.

Kadeem.

Kadeem stepped forward with a jovial smile so many of the drivers remembered so well. But by all means, this was a smile that none of them expected to ever see again. While with the Silencerz, Alec had anguished over the archive footage of Kadeem being lost in the Storm Realm. Vert felt such a terrible guilt over failing to rescue the African prince he unknowingly gave his twin brother sympathetic nightmares. Tork himself had damned a semi-robotic Kadeem to Hell for the torture he took part in under Gelorum's command. Yet, here he was, warm and friendly, as if none of that had ever happened.

"We have been expecting you," he said. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the guards. They saluted, grudgingly loading back into their vehicles and heading for a compound in the distance.

Vert was the first out of his car, his face pale as a sheet. He had to make sure it was real and not some crazy dream.

"Kadeem? Is it really you?"

"We thought you were a goner," Alec stated, almost immediately at his side.

Kadeem nodded grimly. "More far gone than you can imagine, my friend."

Those among them who had known and cared for Kadeem in the past were soon at his flank, checking to see that he was truly all there. The very last Metal Maniac to reach Kadeem—for though Mel was generally the most cautious, her curiosity got the better of her and she was quickly upon him—was Tork. For a brief moment, a connection forged of pure unadulterated loathing came across their eyes, but Kadeem managed to compose himself and maintain a friendly face. Tork, on the other hand, preferred honesty above all else. And he honestly hated Kadeem.

The leader of the Metal Maniacs usually wore a leather jacket to cover up his Drone arm; the sight of it simply raised too many questions—questions he was not prepared to answer. But now he let the robotic appendage gleam in the light of the rising sun. He wanted Kadeem to see what he had done and remember what he had put Tork through. If there was a shred of decency left in Kadeem, a teeny tiny part that felt any kind of remorse or shame, Tork wanted that part to burn.

"Nice outfit," he said. "Last time I saw you half those corn rows were wires. You clean up real nice…for a blood traitor."

Kadeem stamped down a pang of guilt, unwilling to get into a fight. He was sick and tired of being surrounded by violence, and all he really wanted was to go home. Still, he felt a great hostility toward this man. Finally, he looked up at Tork.

"I am sorry for what happened to you, but you must understand I was at a point where I had no choice." They stared at each other, their animosity filling the air with tension. "But I am glad you stopped me when you did. I owe you more than you can possibly imagine—"

"I don't want your apologies," Tork growled. Kadeem narrowed his eyes.

"He is not worth it, Kadeem," the old man chided. "Would you be so foolish as to leave the city of your fathers behind for something so trivial? You know what you did was wrong. Now you have made it right and you are free. Do not jeopardize that!" Angie rushed between them, his eyes pleading.

"Peace! Peace, brothers, can we not live in peace?" he begged. "An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind. Violence won't solve anything! Please, you guys, we're working for a common goal here! What about this Tezla guy?"

Kadeem eyed him carefully, and he and Tork stared each other down for another moment before both finally took a step back. Tork looked away.

"Dr. Tezla," said Kadeem "has new information I obtained from my time with…the Drones… That information, along with collaboration with Dr. Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four, has resulted in a major breakthrough in his research. And now SHIELD has finally allowed Project Bluebook to get back on track."

"And now you're here to drive for Tezla again," Tork stated rather than ask, but Kadeem shook his head.

"I'm going home," he stated plainly. "I've had more than enough adventure to last me through this lifetime. And now that I am safe and free, I wish to do nothing that would endanger that besides protecting the people I love."

Kadeem clapped a firm hand on Tork's shoulder and they locked eyes again, but Kadeem's gaze was soft. "I have no fight left in me, Tork. It is all up to you now."

For a moment he glared, but eventually, he nodded, looking to the other drivers with renewed confidence. "Let's move some metal," he said. They loaded back into their vehicles, but Angie lagged behind.

"If you do not hurry, you will miss your friends."

Angie only smiled at the gentle warning. "Thank you for helping to calm him down…Haziz."

The old man's sightless eyes widened with shock. "You can see me?"

"You can see him?" Kadeem echoed. "But…how?!"

Angie stared up into the sky. "I've got my ways," he said; he looked back at Kadeem and winked. But Kadeem was no longer in a friendly mood.

"What is your game?"

"Kadeem," Haziz whispered. He could hear soft laughter and the flapping of wings. "Leave him be. Something is not right."

"Very perceptive of you, old man," murmured a beautiful woman, her voice dripping with venom. "Much unlike my son here. He's a rather stupid boy; a useless, whining dog with no sense of reality. He's as naive as his father."

Kadeem's gaze flitted to the woman with the ice blue eyes who taunted and sneered at this driver.

"You miserable dog, you're in deep now," she said. "You know they'll never let you leave…"

An appreciative chuckle echoed through the empty space where there should have been no echo at all, and the other specter flexed his leathery wings. "Don't worry, Angelo," the shirtless figure lilted in his childlike coo. "Even if we do become trapped here, we can always burn this place to the ground. Oh, what fun! I can already smell their fat sizzling in the flames! I can already taste their screams!"

He laughed more loudly and viciously, baring his fangs, his waist length hair covering his eyes completely. Kadeem took a step back as a precaution; even Haziz had the heebie-jeebies. Angie forced a smile but his pain was obvious.

"You're so lucky to have an angel looking over your shoulder, Kadeem," he said, "when so many of us have only devils to call our own."

"Poor, sweet child," Haziz intoned, shaking his head. Angie smiled, and this time, it was genuine.

"Compassion is for the weak and pitiful, like you. Wretched, idiotic weakling…"

"Mother, I am trying to have a conversation here," Angie stated through clenched teeth.

Haziz scowled at the vicious woman, muttering in his native language. Mrs. Halloran eyed him in a way that reminded Kadeem unpleasantly of Gelorum. "Why don't you leave him alone, you cow?" Haziz spat.

"Because I'm all she has left," Angie sighed. "Take good care of each other, you two. Have a safe flight."

The draconic figure laughed and grinned at them. "Hope you crash and burn," he giggled.

"Devinn!"

"What? I didn't do anything!"

The apparitions faded away as Angie climbed back into his van and followed his friends to the compound. As he watched the drummer go, Kadeem heard Haziz say precisely what he himself had been thinking.

"What a strange young man."

Haziz himself began to fade and Kadeem counted his blessings. How fortunate he was to have friends who cared about him and looked out for his best interests. How wonderful it was to be alive. Most of all, how happy and grateful Kadeem was to be going home. There was a gust of wind and a great jet landed; an SR-77 blackbird with green shamrocks on the side. Kadeem's ride was here.

"Top o' the morning' to ye," the pilot said, waving, when Kadeem had boarded the plane. Kadeem gave him a friendly smile and they were soon on their way.

A/N: I always thought Kadeem deserved better than he got. I know it's farfetched, but hey, if Aunt May can be engaged to Doctor Octopus, this works for me.