Banjee paced the floor of the waiting room impatiently, even as the alarm stopped. He remembered this particular alarm; the same alarm had gone off at Area 51 when Vert came through the portal and it meant there was an intruder in the base. On that occasion, however, they hadn't been shoved into a room and instructed to input the emergency lockdown codes into the computerized locks by a man in a Kevlar uniform. There was a hostile on deck, and Banjee could do nothing shut up in here.

The keypad next to the door beeped, proclaiming access denied; it fizzled and shorted out and eight curved blades situated themselves between the doors. No, not blades—claws! The doors were forced open and there stood Melissa McClurg, triumphant but battle scarred. Though her wounds seemed healed as if over a week had passed, bloodstained holes were rampant on her red tank top.

After a few moments, the orange glow in her eyes faded and she fell forward.

"Mel!" Wylde leapt forward to catch her in his arms. "Melissa, baby, what happened?"

She groaned. "Oh, Markie. Never…Never got to tell you…how much I…hate…Ninjas…"

"Ninjas?!" Alec sputtered. "Man, uh-uh. No way could they get into a SHIELD facility."

"Someone should tell that to the Hand clan," she said weakly. "They were here to kill Tezla and steal his research. One of them said to tell you 'Stryker says hi,' whatever that means."

Alec and Banjee shared a look, but everyone else in the room was either too weak or too concerned to notice.

Mel stood up with her boyfriend's help and smiled. "Thanks, Markie," she croaked, and started coughing. Disgusting, wet hacking noises that came from deep in Mel's chest filled the air, like a cat with a hairball.

Alec grimaced. "Ewww."

After what seemed like an eternity to her, Mel coughed something bloody into her hand. Holding it up to the light revealed the item to be a shuriken.

"Holy crap, you really were fightin' Ninjas there, weren't ya? Damn, girl!"

Mel had almost forgotten about the throwing star in her lung, but she was grateful to be rid of it nonetheless. Unfortunately, its sharp edges had also ripped up her throat and she was now rendered speechless.

Another door opened; there was a woman in scrubs looking perplexed. "What's all that noise? Oh, dear!" One look at Mel and she was ready for action. "OR 3 is open. We need to get you stitched up!"

Mel pushed her away, shaking her head. Wylde spoke for her. "Mel's fine. Her mutation is she heals really fast."

"I am perfectly aware of Miss McClurg's abilities, Mr. Wylde," she said. "Oh, now, don't give me that look. All base staff were given files on people who have worked with Tezla previously—even if Miss McClurg wasn't driving."

Mel clung to Wylde, glowering and showing her fangs.

"Now, I know your healing factor will take care of the worst of it, but it still hurts, right? It'll still take the night for you to heal and you require extra food when you're badly injured because you metabolism kicks into high gear."

Mel glared, stomach growling; reluctantly, she nodded.

"Well, see, now, is that so bad?" The woman chuckled. "I'm Dr Fortner. Come along, dear; let's get you cleaned up."

Mel nodded and followed on shaky feet. The doctor chuckled again and dragged a slightly annoyed Mel to an examination room. Vert and Alec started teasing Wylde about him and the redhead being so close, but as a pair of agents on cleanup duty passed through they lost their sense of humor. These particular agents of SHIELD each pushed a gurney, fully loaded with sheets covering their passengers.

"I'll be back in few," said Wylde. "Pray for Dan."


Assistant Director Maria Hill stepped around the chalk outlines and debris that littered the lab; what a disaster. Fury had left her in charge while he dealt with the latest Hulk rampage somewhere in the Midwest, and she had failed. She lost four men to three interns—interns whose backgrounds she had been charged with checking. Her lack of paranoia had allowed her to be fooled, allowing Ninjas into the base.

"Now can I work alone?"

She snapped to attention. "What was that?"

"With all due respect, Assistant Director Hill," Tezla began carefully, "I never wanted to deal with interns in the first place. This attempt on my life shows how few we can trust and I believe my work was going fairly well before I started up with SHIELD again."

Hill advanced on him. "You wouldn't be thinking of deserting, would you? There's a war on, Doctor. That would be treason, and we can't have that."

"O-of course not," Tezla answered. He cleared his throat. "All I meant was having so many people in the lab, so many guards around… I'm under a lot of pressure, as are the drivers, and I just think things would go a little more smoothly in a more relaxed atmosphere."

Hill quietly regarded Dr. Tezla; this thin, bookish fellow with the swollen cheek and the nasty cut on his arm. Finally, she said, "I'll talk to Col. Fury about it. In the meantime, background checks on the new drivers have been completed. You might want to take a look."

AD Hill brought up the profiles on the one monitor still intact—Russian American orphans, a pair of giantesses with an ex-KGB father, a trio of Latverian freedom fighters opposed to the tyranny of Von Doom. Most interesting of all were the Foundlings, a rock n' roll three piece with a background in street racing; a small Japanese fellow disowned by his parents, and of course, the daughter of a Vegas showgirl Tezla dated in the 1980s. But the drummer…good God, the drummer…

"Are you sure this is correct?"

Hill nodded. "There's no denying any of it. A public figure like that, the truth comes out. The kid's one bad day away from his own Behind the Music special."

Tezla shook his head. "He ran Taro off the road. If the EDR hadn't been properly installed…" He groaned, running a hand through his silver hair. "Gott in Himmell…"


Mel stepped carefully into the hall, now in her favorite black jeans and a swishy red blouse. Her wounds had healed outwardly, though she was still in pain, and her curly hair hung down her back.

"See?" Fortner said cheerily. "Don't you feel so much better now that you're all cleaned up?"

Mel rolled her eyes and smiled. Upon returning to the waiting room, however, she was slightly puzzled by Taro's appearance. Arching a single eyebrow, she pointed a clawed finger in the older racer's direction, and soundlessly cocked her head to the side.

Taro grumbled in annoyance, but said nothing—at least not in English. Fortner tittered with amusement and pinched Taro's cheek.

"Oh, you are just too cute!" With a motherly smile, she got back to business. "You'll all be pleased to know Mr. Dresden's operation was a success; there was significant muscle damage, but his organs are all intact. His tissue seems to be regenerating very nicely and he should be just fine."

Banjee, Alec and Vert fell into a mess of high-fives; Mel and Wylde embraced in joy. Taro breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he knew Dan was okay, he could get back to the garage; Karma would be wondering about him, and Angie Halloran needed to pay for running him off the road. But just as he was getting up to leave, Banjee pulled him back.

"Hey, where you think you're going?"

"Back to the garage."

"Nuh-uh," said Banjee. "You're coming to check on Dan."

"But—"

"It's the polite thing to do!" Banjee demanded, and that was the end of the discussion. Vert snickered to Alec as they followed.

Dan lay peacefully in the infirmary bed, his breathing in time with the monitors. Fluids and fresh blood were infused intravenously through a tube in his arm, along with antibiotics and painkillers. As his friends surrounded him, Dan slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey there, stranger," Wylde said gently. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Dan smiled weakly, speaking in a hoarse voice. "Hi, guys." Vert, blonde as the poor lad was, asked the most obvious question of how Dan was feeling. The older racer actually squinted off to the side and thought about this before answering honestly. "Like my body's suspended in green jelly."

"That would be the drugs," Alec replied. "They pumped you full of sedatives while they put you together again. You really had us worried, Dan."

"My stomach hurts."

Banjee smiled sympathetically."Of course, Dan. You almost had it ripped out."

Mel patted the patient's hand in a sisterly way and smiled. Her throat wasn't quite healed enough to speak, but Dan go the message.

"Thank you for saving me, Mel," he said, clutching her hand. "If you and Markie hadn't come along, I wouldn't be here."

"You woulda been here sooner if you'd just let me hit the EDR! You are so stubborn, Dan! Honestly, you coulda been killed!"

"I already thought I was dying, Markie; I didn't want to die without finishing the race…"

Mel squeezed his hand. Dan looked up, perplexed.

"Uh, Taro…you got something right about—"

"Yes! I know I have a cat on my head!!" Taro snapped. "I've tried to pull it off but this stupid thing won't budge! Will everyone please shut up about it?!?!"

Dan arched an eyebrow. "Have you tried tuna fish and warm milk? Poor thing looks half starved."

Taro rolled his eyes. Banjee, Vert, Alec and Dan all had a laugh at his expense, but their mirth soon turned to adoration as the kitten in question began to mewl.

Though she still could not speak, Mel's hazel eyes were big as saucers. Due to her mutation, Mel's maternal instincts were much stronger than those of any normal human. Basically, anything small and or fuzzy was in serious danger of being snuggled and nurtured to the point of losing its mind. You didn't need super senses to hear her biological clock ticking. Taro recognized Mel's expression as the same Karma wore whenever she saw a sleepy baby or a group of small children playing in the park.

"So cute…" Dan's eyelids drooped closed, and his well wisher silently agreed to let him sleep. The former Street Breed had a long recovery ahead of him.