Graves and Officer Imposter escorted us down lengths of underground corridors.

"I figured I wouldn't get to see the real Site," Grace muttered dejectedly. "Mr. Graves doesn't even know what the waste pools look like."

"I think I could fix that," whispered Ian.

Graves led us into the antechamber of a cavernous laboratory full of various imaging and testing equipment I could recognize and a lot I couldn't. It figured. Anyone referring to this place as a testing facility would have thought it pertained more directly to nuclear research. "Kids," I said, "welcome to the east Idaho testing facility of the super black ops Commission on Superhuman Affairs."

Graves glared at me. "What?" I replied. "They have a right to know, and they can keep a secret, though with all that's going on, it looks like that may be a moot issue."

"She's right." A pert, blonde woman in a lab coat entered with two armed, black clothed members of what I hoped was their security detail. "HQ is now considering a certain amount of public disclosure as our only option for damage control." She held her hand out to me. "Dr. Diane Stanger. And yes, we will need to do some testing on you and your daughter."

"Where are you going to find a room soundproof enough for me?" said Grace.

"And not that I want to sound paranoid, but I think I should take a moment to consider if I want the organization that would have, given the chance, faked my death and kidnapped me, to even lay a finger on my child! I know of some sound studios and vocal teachers a safe distance away. She can work on her abilities with them," I added, leaving out any mention of the increasing terror I felt for Ben.

Dr. Stanger's jaw dropped at the sharp tone I took, but she quickly recovered herself. "I understand. But will you consent to us running some tests on you?"

"Of course," I replied. "If I didn't, Graves, your fake cop, and I would not be here."

"Very well, then. Guards, please attend to the children. This should only take about a half hour."

I mentally left the kids some directions and a reminder to behave. Stanger, Graves, and I then stepped into the laboratory itself, and before either of the guards could even think of complaining of having to baby-sit, Ian fixed them with one of his most wide-eyed pleading looks. "My sister likes nookyelar science. Can we see Daddy's work? Puh-leeeeeaze?"

"Awwww, what the heck," said one of the guards, thinking about how much he'd have liked a job that would make his own kids so proud.

"Of course," said the other, her fingers giving his cheek a gentle squeeze. "You're such a cutie."

And so the guards left hand in hand with a couple of mutant children, the most dangerous of whom sang softly and off-key, "Cutie-man, Cutie-man does whatever a cutie can."