Chapter 8

Max woke in the morning alone. She shifted and realized that not only had Alec gone, but he'd been absent long enough for his side of the bed to be cold. She sighed, hoping he hadn't taken himself too far away. She got up herself, glancing out through the window to see that for once no rain was falling and the sky was clear and blue. Pulling clean clothes and wash gear from her bag, she mulled over what more she could do to help Alec.

It wasn't easy to know what to do for the best. He was recovering she had no doubt of that. The way he'd acted yesterday while at the Command Center had clearly proved he was much recovered from just a few days ago, but the sudden mood swing in the evening, accompanied by another hallucination of Ben showed that he still had some way to go. She wondered why he saw Ben here, why not everywhere he went. The other thought that pressed for attention was the cause of the sudden mood swing; the intense anger he'd felt at the talk on the TV of the superheroes and how they were defending America. She could understand the resentment, but to build that sudden and intense an anger seemed wrong somehow, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

The world was an unjust place. Maybe that was it - maybe that was what Alec hadn't really grasped yet. Like Ben before him, maybe he thought he was going to find something better out here than the reality and while he wasn't dealing with it in the way that Ben had, maybe he couldn't reconcile the two images he now had of the world.

She sighed and took her things with her into the bathroom. She enjoyed the heat of the water and although a little spartan, the bathroom was spotless and efficient. A testament to its owner, she thought that he'd managed to not only renovate it to this level of 'working' but made it appear clean and fresh and whatever he'd done to get the water working that efficiently she also didn't know, but it was enough to make her want to stay over permanently.

Once dressed, she wrapped her hair in a towel and headed out into the apartment to see if Joshua had any idea where Alec was.

As she opened the bedroom door though, her first sight was of Alec, perched on the windowsill looking out into the distance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He looked tired and she wondered just how long he had slept before he'd come out here alone. She crossed the room to his side. "Hey you," she greeted softly as he turned to look at her, her hand already reaching out for him. "Have you been up long?"

"Couldn't sleep and didn't want to disturb you," he said without really answering the question.

"Thanks," she said, not pressing for an answer to the actual question. "Hope you don't mind but I grabbed a quick shower. It's so nice to have a decent power to it. How did you do it?"

"Amazing what I've picked up along the way," he said tonelessly. One hand drifted up to the edge of the towel around her hair. "Your hair is wet . . . Have you - have you brushed it out yet?"

"Erm no, not yet," she said, a little confused.

He looked away, back out the window but asked quietly, "Can I do it for you?"

"Sure. If you really want to. I'll get my brush, hang on."

When she got back, he'd set a chair from the table in the center of the room. He let her get comfortable and then took the brush from her hand and slipped its handle into his pocket as he carefully unwound the towel and gently squeezed as much water from her hair as he could. Then he began to brush. His strokes were tentative at first, careful and he pulled away when the brush caught on a knot as if afraid to hurt her, but gradually he grew more confident, teasing out the tangles and making her feel almost sleepy again with the soothing strokes and the care he was taking.

She'd been lulled by his tenderness and was startled when he stopped and said, "I guess that's all I can do for it. No dryer, sorry. Don't really need one with my hair and Josh . . . well, hair styling's not exactly one of his talents," he said fondly.

He held her brush out to her and as she took it, he stepped away, seemingly embarrassed by the help he'd offered. She stood and followed him, reaching out to catch his arm and hold him still, pull him closer, down so she could kiss his cheek. "Thank you," she murmured.

He didn't pull away, but instead rested his head in the curve of her neck. She didn't know what was going through his mind, but she held him close, cupped one hand to the back of his neck holding him there, hoping it was what he needed, sifting her fingers through his hair. "Everything's going to be okay," she said softly. "We're going to get through this, Alec."

He took a couple of shuddering breaths, then seemed to pull himself together, pulling away and standing up again, immediately turning to face the window. "Give me a minute and I'll make you some breakfast."

"I could do it," she offered, already moving towards the kitchen. He didn't stop her and she kept half of her attention on him as she got a few things together for breakfast for the two of them. "Is Joshua around?" she asked, wondering whether she needed to make enough for three.

"No. He's already eaten. He and some of the others are starting work on the community center idea where they wanted the X5s who'd had babies to be able to go and play with the children together, try and work out what they needed to know to bring the babies up. I guess that's something else that we're going to need to figure out and locate - stuff for the children to play with. I'll have to work that out soon, but I don't really know what they need."

"Alec." He moved across the room as she called his name. "Alec, we can work it out together. This doesn't all fall to you. I know when we started out I said that you could figure out how to get what we needed, where it would come from and how we'd get it in here, but I hadn't thought that through properly. We're a team, we work better together."

"You don't think I can do it?"

"It's not that. It's that I think you and I make a good team. We achieve more when we're working on things together. Like you said, you don't know anything about babies and in reality I don't know much. But between us, between us, with your common sense and your knowledge of where and how to locate stuff and my experience, which isn't much, but I have been around a few people with babies and children, between us we'll work it out."

He nodded and sat down on a chair to watch her work. Her back was to him when he next spoke. "I thought I might go outside and find a church today," he said calmly.

"Okay," she answered. "I'll come with you. We'll check in at Command Center and then we'll go."

"But -" he began.

She turned back to him, pan in hand and began to serve up the eggs she'd been cooking on to the two plates she'd got out before. "I'll come with you." Her tone was determined and he didn't argue. "Alec, I'm going to come for two reasons. I can take you to a church, but also I can make sure it's not the one where Ben . . . I wouldn't want you to be mistaken for him again. You've suffered enough for him already." Setting the pan down, she pushed one of the plates towards him and said, "Now eat up, while they're warm."

He looked at her, "I'm sure we didn't have eggs -"

She smiled, "You may not have, but I did. Now eat them while they're warm, because eggs are never as good cold." She sat down alongside him and began to eat her own, relieved when he began to eat and seem to enjoy them.

# # #

With the duties assigned for the day and vague excuses made, Max and Alec left the command center and headed for the concealed access route from Terminal City out into Seattle. They were both dressed in non-descript clothes and wearing baseball hats in the hope of staying sufficiently incognito so as not to draw attention to themselves. They slipped out onto a quiet backstreet and set their bikes on the ground, immediately setting off side by side.

Alec had been quieter than Max would have expected of him before, but she was growing used to this quieter more reflective Alec, although in her heart she wanted him to heal enough to regain most of his old personality. He let her lead them through the streets now, although he'd refused to go along with her earlier suggestion of resuming their old Jam Pony personas to move through the streets. When she'd asked why, he'd just said if they got caught, he didn't want it to come back on Normal and their old friends at the messenger service. She had to admit he had a point. Jam Pony had recovered once from its unwitting involvement with Transgenics, it wasn't fair to bring that down upon them again.

She slowed down as she turned down the street that brought them up to the church. She chained her bike to a nearby fence and waited for Alec to do the same. He hovered uncertain, until she took his hand and joined the general mill of people moving in and out of the cathedral pulling him resolutely with her.

As she held the door for an older lady to come out with a smile and pleasant greeting, she waited then gestured for Alec to go in ahead of her. He stepped in slowly, hesitantly, stepped to the side as someone else made their way to the door. His eyes were drawn to the light shimmering down orange over the central altar. The area was bright, clean and as he looked upward to the hanging glass that caught the light, he was transfixed for a moment by the way the light broke into shards that bounced off around the church.

Max gently nudged him forward, encouraging him to move deeper into the church, to see more. He paused by a stone basin, looking at it as if it would tell him why it was there, as if suddenly things he didn't understand would make sense. Max moved closer, said, "I think they call it a font. I think they have a ceremony to make babies part of the church using it."

"How?" he asked just as quietly.

She shrugged, "Don't know."

He accepted her answer and slowly moved deeper into the church, all the time watching the other people around them, trying to see what they did. Max could see him analyzing their actions as if he'd be able to fathom the meaning behind them. He hadn't let go of her hand, so she followed him, letting him direct their steps, investigate at his own speed. He paused at each statue regarding it carefully, turning his attention upward to each stained glass window. He seemed to like some and others he moved on from quickly. Max felt the hold on her hand tighten every time there was an image of the man she knew they called Jesus on the cross. Watching him she saw a glimmer of fear and distaste. Eventually he turned in front of the plainest image of Jesus on the cross that they'd seen yet. In the faintest whisper, he looked at her and said, "Why? I thought -" His voice trailed off, but she could see he was unnerved and she turned him away from the image.

"I think he was put to death like that and it's their way of remembering him and that he died because of his beliefs."

"Why would they want to believe the same thing if they thought it might lead there?"

"Maybe because they think there's something better afterwards?"

"After they die, you mean. Something after that. Is that what Ben thought?"

"He thought that killing for the Lady would make her protect him. He wasn't right. That isn't what she wants."

Alec nodded, then asked, "Where is she?" He looked round again and then began to move, still pulling Max along a step behind him.

She heard his breath catch, stepped closer, moving her other hand to be in contact with him and followed his gaze to the chapel in front of them both. Dark wood on the floor below her reflected back the soft glow of dozens of candles, all of them drawing an observer's gaze to the statue in the centre of a woman holding a baby. Alec's gaze was transfixed and Max moved closer into his side, hoping that she hadn't done the wrong thing.

"That's her, isn't it?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said, reluctantly.

"She was a mother to the baby?"

"I - I guess so," Max wasn't sure. She looked round wondering if there was some way of finding out what Alec wanted to know without giving away how little they understood.

"He was wrong to do what he did for her," Alec whispered. "She was a mother. A mother could never want that, never want someone to kill."

Max looked at the statue, surrounded by its warm glow, the aura of tranquility and serenity that encompassed the area. She had no idea why people came here, what they really expected to get, but as she and Alec stood there, she saw people come, kneel before the statue and bow their heads in prayer before they left again, moving on with their lives. None of them seemed hugely changed by the minutes they spent kneeling before the lady, no great weight lifted or inspiration given in that instant of kneeling, but there was a sense of peace on each of them as they moved on. It was enough for Max to know that whatever the Blue Lady did want of these people, Alec was right, it was never for them to be killers.

After a while, Alec moved on again, exploring more of the church but when they had finished, he made his way back to the chapel, found a seat just outside but from where he had a clear view of the statue of the mother and baby and he sat and just stared. Max sat alongside, wishing she knew whether she had done the right thing. Had she found Alec any respite from the turmoil that raged inside him or had she just caused more confusion, more of a sense of displacement?

She lost track of time and he was clearly completely unaware of anything but the way the lighting flickered and flared making shadows dance around the statue. Glancing down at her watch a while later, she was surprised to see how much time had passed and that it was almost lunchtime. She couldn't risk him staying here, wasn't willing to endanger the almost balance he was still working to reach with his eating. "Alec," she said softly, squeezing his hand. "Alec, we have to go now."

His eyes slid slowly away from the statue and over to her, then he gave a slow nod of understanding and stood up, letting her lead him back outside onto the hustle and bustle of the street and the people dashing back and forth.

Leaving the bikes where they were, she led him through the streets to a small street market she knew. There she browsed for fresh food, energy giving and healthy for him; the kind of thing they were both sorely missing. As they meandered through the crowds, she held him tight with one hand while the other lifted wallets from people they passed, rifling through for the feel of cash to be removed before dropping the wallet back to the floor to be trodden underfoot by passersby.

They spent the rest of the afternoon, cycling round the city looking for likely targets for future raids; places with the least defenses or those most easily overcome and the ones that were likely to yield the best reward. Alec drew her attention to a number of toy stores and they wandered into a couple of them to look round at the types of things that were available, both of them overwhelmed by the choice and none the wiser as to how they would ever start to choose what to take for the babies in Terminal City.

# # #

They had an evening meeting in the Command Center with Max and Alec poring over a map with Mole and Adam as they tried to decide where to target next with their raid. They decided to lead two teams the following night.

Adam would lead a team of average X5s out to raid for non-food supplies. They selected three stores not too close together so as not to make it blatantly obvious that it was the same team at all three, but equally not so far apart as to make travel between the three too long. They picked a pharmacy, a toy store and a clothing wholesaler.

Max, Alec and another X5 called Pace would lead the second team together on another food run. Their team would be bigger, enabling them to separate and hit two different types of food store. The aim for Pace's part of the team would be to bring back one supply of fresh food, perishable but much needed in terms of variety and the nutrients that they all would benefit from. Max and Alec would yet again target the long-lasting staples that were currently providing the bulk of everyone's diet.

Max didn't voice any of her concerns about Alec going on the raid, knowing that he would be well supported and the way that he and Adam had split their team meant that Alec's part of the team would all be advanced X5s providing him with the extra support and a now very experienced team. Pace would work with most of the second group knowing Max and Alec were close enough to help if need be but also enabling them to begin training some more teams and team leaders so they could make more frequent but smaller raids, hoping to stay below the radar.

Max knew this was probably also leading up to Alec's suggestion that they raid further from home, going away for days at a time to other cities to bring back supplies. Part of her knew how right he was, they couldn't keep making these demands on the citizens of Seattle. It was going to be tied back to them eventually and it was only going to increase the animosity at the gate. And that was if it didn't actually bring down the military on them.

As the others left for the night, Alec was tidying away the last of the maps and lists of essential supplies. Max saw everybody out, then returned to his side. "Ready to go home?" she asked with a smile.

He frowned for a moment. "Sure." He shrugged and sticking the papers into a drawer, he reached for his backpack. "What about you?"

"Can I come by yours again?" she asked, relieved when he nodded. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes. "My place sucks," she said simply.

The uncertainty changed to concern. "You want to move in with us? I can fix up another room for you, if that's what you want. Give you your own space. Let's stop by yours and get your stuff now."

"Would it be okay to stay at yours? All the time? You and Joshua wouldn't mind?" she made herself sound eager. It was what she wanted but for so many reasons that she hadn't really given herself time to consider and weigh up the pros and cons, but for once, she was going to take a step closer to Alec. She didn't know if they'd work out as a couple, but friends they could definitely do now, even if she would like to try for more. She wasn't sure if he would ever want more. It wasn't like they'd had the easiest of starts, but they were both growing up, learning more about each other's worlds and in truth each other as well. She owed it to him to move closer, but not too push him too far yet. He needed time to heal and to grow and understand more of freedom and ultimately more of what it meant to have choice.

"We wouldn't mind. If you come now, I guess we could share again, but tomorrow I'll try and sort you out another room."

She smiled, pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss to his cheek, she whispered, "Thank you."

# # #

He was poised in the air above the water, shivering in the cold air, waiting in the darkness. He knew it was all done to keep him weak, keep him trying to obey commands and be the best he could in an attempt to earn some vestige of kindness . . . some respite from the pain. Yet none ever came. They hurt him and he did what they said, they threatened more pain if he didn't follow orders and so he obeyed. He couldn't imagine how things could get worse than they were, but he didn't dare take the risk of finding out.

He had figured out that for the most part he was kept sedated, his body relaxed and so he trusted the tubes and wires, he trusted that he would be kept alive under the water . . . Maybe it wasn't trust, maybe it was just that the drugs they gave him kept him so removed from his own body that he didn't even know what they were doing to it. The drugs freed his mind, let it drift out and find 494, follow 494. Sometimes he saw the world through 494's eyes, through his thoughts and motivations, other times he was outside watching. He knew that was when 494, Alec, saw him . . . not him, 493. They weren't the same. Or at least he didn't think they were. He didn't remember his own designation, if he'd ever had one. He didn't remember a time when his life was anywhere but this darkened room with the machines and the tank of water.

As he waited, he considered that allowing the drugs to wear off enough for him to become conscious while still underwater was deliberate, they wanted his panic, they wanted his suffering. They knew exactly what they were doing to him. Like the way his body was moved in and out of the water . . . that was deliberate too, the way the pole in the center of his back raised upward, pushing his body to its limit without breaking anything while keeping his legs and arms pinned down, then suddenly allowing them to raise and keep his body stable. It wasn't a glitch in the machinery, it was intentional.

Like now, when they had raised him up from the water and then left him here to freeze in the chill breeze of moving air. He was pinned in the darkness waiting. . . Waiting for them to decide what to do to him next.

He was theirs and there was nothing he could do about it and they would be back soon to find out what more he had learned.

# # #

Obsidian was perched on the side of a window balcony beyond the railings and out of sight of the apartment's inhabitants watching the world go by and waiting. Today's victim of justice would be a gang of steelheads who were holding up local liquor stores. About time someone started to deal with their ilk in Obsidian's opinion.

He wasn't in the mood for playing games tonight, figured he could be in and out and be home in time to grab some sleep before first light. He swung his legs back and forth waiting, hoping that they'd hurry up and turn up before it started to rain again. He was damp already from the last downpour and enough had soaked through his clothes that sitting there was unpleasant. Not that it was going to stop him. Nothing was going to stop Obsidian from completing this mission.

He saw the Steelheads approaching and let a feral grin spread across his face in eager anticipation. He took a few deep breaths to center himself and sat poised for action.

In typical Steelhead over acting, he saw them kick the door to the liquor store off of its hinges before heading inside shouting and raging about handing over the money. Obsidian counted to five giving all four of them time to get inside the store, then let himself drop cleanly from his perch to land on his feet and ran the short distance to the door.

He paused in the door for the fraction of a second it took to take in everyone's position, but he was moving again before anyone had realized he was there. His eyes gleamed as he launched himself at the first Steelhead grabbing him round the neck and using his body to support his own as he lifted himself off the ground, kicking the second in the face and knocking him out. Landing again, he braced himself as he pulled the Steelhead over his back, slamming him down on the floor and banging his head an extra time, just to make sure he was unconscious. "Oooh, that's gotta hurt," he laughed as he turned round to face the remaining two Steelheads.

"You do realize that you look stupid, Metalhead!" he sneered at the taller of the two. "Not that it matters. I guess it's not exactly what you'd call false advertizing now, is it?" With that, he bounced lightly on his toes and made as if he was about let fly with a punch, but instead he shifted his balance a fraction and kicked upward, catching the unsuspecting Steelhead under the chin and sending him flying backwards over the counter.

Turning to the final Steelhead, he bounced back and forth lightly, saying, "Come on. Come and play, little tin man!" He waved him forward, tauntingly. "You want to kill me. You know you do so come on!"

The final Steelhead seemed undecided, attention flitting between the cashier and Obsidian. For the moment, his gun was pressed to the cashier's temple but Obsidian could see him faltering, the temptation to turn on him clear. He sneered, "So what's with the bodily adornment? Don't you have to be careful round magnets?" He made a sucking sound and pulled his hand back gradually closing the fingers as if to mimic drawing something in. "Nope, you know what? You guys really do look stupid. There is no other way of putting it and any girl who thought that all that gadgetry was appealing needs her head seeing to. And they've sent me for psychiatric evaluations. Dude, they'd have had a field day with you!"

"Shut up!" the sole remaining Steelhead snapped.

Obsidian ignored him. "Do you agree with me?" he addressed his question to the terrified cashier. "Oh, hey, you can calm down because I'm not going to let him hurt you. That's a promise," he said sincerely.

"Don't make promises like that!" the Steelhead barked, drawing back the safety on the gun.

"You can't shoot him and me before I kill you," Obsidian said simply. "Which leaves you with the choice to either," he put up one finger, "shoot him and know that I'll kill you before you can even try to turn the gun on me, or," and he lifted a second finger, "try to shoot me before I kill you." He smiled evilly. "I guess there's always the third option of trying to shoot yourself and I don't think either of us would object to that if you wanted to try it, although I think he might prefer it if you let go of him first. Blood splatter can be really messy."

The cashier whimpered as the Steelhead tightened his grip round his neck, but turned the gun on Obsidian. "Yay! A decision! You're going for option number two! I like option number two!"

As the Steelhead pulled the trigger, Obsidian blurred to the side and back again, smiling broadly as the bullet slammed through the window behind him. "Missed me," he taunted.

The Steelhead gaped, glared and then pulled the trigger again, this time Obsidian jumped upward, clean above the line of fire and when he landed he was directly in front of the end of the gun. "Want a third try?" he asked drily, just ahead of punching the Steelhead in the face.

The cashier dropped to the floor, cowering behind the counter, while Obsidian gave a couple of extra blows to the Steelhead's face. He stood up, dusting off his gloves and turned to the cashier. "You got something to tie them up with?"

The cashier shook his head, still too terrified to speak. Obsidian sighed, "I should have kept some of those zip ties from the guy the other day. Who knew that I'd need to start carrying stuff like that around with me?" He seemed to think for a moment, then turned back to the cashier. "Okay, here's what we're going to do . . . you, my friend, are going to call the police and ask them to come and collect the intruders, you are then going to open the back door. I'll stay and look after these, making sure they stay unconscious until the police get here. Once they are here, I am going to slip away out the back and you are going to make sure that you keep the police talking long enough for me to get away. How does that sound?"

"But -"

"Ah-ah-ah," Obsidian warned. "That wasn't really a question. It was more of an . . . order. We're doing it my way, because you, my friend, are grateful for the help I've given you and you want me to be free to continue to help the honest, law-abiding citizens of our fair city. If I am still here when the police arrive, I'll get all bogged down in paperwork and technicalities and police resentment that I'm better at catching these criminals than they are and then where will we be? I won't be wandering the streets keeping our honest, law-abiding citizens as safe as I can. That's not what you want, is it?"

The cashier nodded and moved slowly and warily towards the telephone, which he then picked up and stammered out the request for help and the words Steelheads and robbery and hurry, please. Obsidian nodded approvingly, before bending down to shift the Steelheads closer together to make it easier to watch over them all. One of them started to stir and Obsidian punched him again, sending him swiftly back into oblivion.

The sound of sirens in the distance and Obsidian gave one last check that all of the Steelheads were still out before running out through the back door. He heard the cashier behind him as he ran down the street and when a quick glance back over his shoulder showed the man disappearing back inside the shop, he blurred, covering the distance at twice the speed before leaping upward and catching hold of a downpipe and scaling the building hand over hand. They'd never find him now, because up was the last direction they'd expect him to go.

# # #

"And in other news tonight, yet again a Seattle citizen has been saved by the man they are now dubbing the Nightwalker. This individual has now saved at least two individuals from attacks before the local police could come to their aid. In the first instance, a serial rapist who had persistently evaded detection by the police was caught by the Nightwalker in the act of breaking and entering with the intention of raping yet another victim. This time a group of Steelheads thought to have been responsible for the recent spate of liquor store robberies in the city were all taken down by what witness descriptions would indicate to be the same person."

"Nightwalker seems to make a habit, not only of solving crimes in advance of the police but also getting in on the action early enough to prevent any serious harm coming to the potential victims. How he manages to do this is as much of an unknown as the man's reasons for leaving before the police arrive."

"Coming next, an interview with the cashier saved by the Nightwalker and his opinion of the new avenging angel on our streets."

Clint threw another piece of popcorn at the TV screen while laughing hysterically. Steve was frowning at his antics, annoyed by the fact he found that Nightwalker's activities so amusing, although he wasn't certain of what specifically was so amusing.

"Tell me, my friend, what in this thou findst so amusing?" Thor asked him in consternation, to Steve's grateful relief.

"Nightwalker! Nightwalker! They called him Nightwalker the Avenging Angel; he sounds like a hooker or a stripper, not a superhero!" Clint was gasping for breath. "And seriously, a bunch of steelheads in a liquor store, those guys would have been distracted by all the pretty colors as the lights bounced through the bottles!" he sneered.

"Well, I'm sure you could have though t of a better name for him," Tony said drily. "And you also would have been able to take down the Steelheads unarmed despite the fact that they were. You wouldn't have had any problems with that and given that we're talking Steelheads, it's not in the least bit likely that they would have been hyped up on meth or anything now, is it, Hawkeye? And while we're on the subject, what kind of name is Hawkeye? One you picked? Or was it picked by some random journalist for you?"

"Hawkeye doesn't make me sound like I should be walking the streets plying my trade!" Clint snarked back. "Why so touchy on the subject, Stark?"

Tony ignored him completely, instead turning to Steve and saying, "Cap, got a minute?"

Steve was out of his seat and moving before Tony had finished speaking, certain that the summons had more to do with either the Nightwalker or with the Transgenics.

# # #

Steve followed Tony down to his workshop swiftly, taking his usual perch on the spare stool as Tony immediately started talking to Jarvis. "Jarvis, we need that security footage that you pulled from the liquor store in Seattle."

He turned back to Steve. "We were lucky. The store they hit was part of a chain and given the recent spate of incidents the chain had discreetly upgraded the system and so the footage was immediately recorded and sent to a central location. Makes it easy for Jarvis to snaffle that information out of the ether, into his files and put it up for our perusal. So," he waved at the image before them, "I was watching this earlier and our dear Nightwalker, which Clint is right sucks as a name, but don't tell him I said that, is shown in action. See this is the point when the Steelheads enter the store, note the unnecessary damage and the immediate resort to violence. Typical."

"Tony . . . what are Steelheads? Is that like a gang name?" Steve asked uncertainly. As Jarvis zoomed the image closer in, Tony winced at the look of sheer horror on Steve's face. "What on earth happened to them?" he gasped.

"Not sure you'd really say it happened to them. It's elective. I'm thinking it's kind of what they call a lifestyle choice," Tony said blandly. "Not everyone's taste and accompanying the large number of adornments tends to be ridiculous drug habits."

"They chose to have that done!"

"Yeah. I mean the ring of spikes coming out of your forehead, it's very Statue of Liberty, don't ya think? Very 2012."

"Why? What purpose does it serve?"

Tony had to admit he felt a certain degree of sympathy with Steve at this point. As far as lifestyle choices went, this was one even he couldn't begin to understand, Steve coming from the 1940s, when women maybe had a single earring in each ear, was kind of a leap beyond all expectation. "For the most part, none beyond aesthetics. Like I said choice. However, there are some other enhancements . . . Jarvis, zoom in on the cybernetics of the leader. If you look here," he pointed out the leader of the group's cybernetic arm, "That serves a very real purpose." The Steelhead was easily subduing the cashier on screen by applying the cybernetic hand to the cashier's throat without any thought.

"He was injured and they replaced a limb. It's impressive, a real shame that with that second chance he's been given, he turned to this life. I know many men who were injured in the war would have prayed for something like that."

Tony grimaced. "Cap," he said, moving closer, gripping the other man's shoulder. "Times have changed. I don't know about that guy there specifically, but some of those Steelheads had two perfectly working arms before having one replaced. They want the extra strength and power that comes with it.

Steve was speechless and Tony gave him a moment to gather himself before he had Jarvis start to play the recording and he began to point out Nightwalker. "Watch him in action. You see the guns, the knives. He isn't afraid, but he is methodical and quick. Jarvis, replay from just before Nightwalker comes in but at one-eighth speed. Watch him. There is a split second in the door where he pauses and looks round, analyzing the opposition, then he moves and have you ever seen anyone move like that, fight like that? I have. I've only seen one type of person able to fight like that -"

"Natasha?" Steve suggested.

Tony let a sharp bark of laughter, "Good one, Cap, but no, not Natasha. Although at this speed, it does bear certain traits that are reminiscent of our very own Black Widow, but remember this is being played at one-eighth of the actual speed at which it happened. Jarvis, again at actual speed." Tony fell quiet as the two of them watched the scene again and saw Nightwalker literally dodge bullets. "Nightwalker is a Transgenic. It's the only possible explanation for that," Tony said plainly.

Steve nodded slowly, "You're probably right. I still don't understand why he would do this under the circumstances, but it would explain why he is always so eager to leave before the police get there. If they found out he was a Transgenic, there's no telling what they would do. I get the impression they might arrest him as well."

"At the least," Tony agreed.


Author's Note: I'm hoping people are enjoying this and that I'm doing the right thing in keeping posting at this point.