Appearances are everything and no one knew that better than Orion Zane. Born ugly, Zane had that lesson taught to him again and again with the myriad small cruelties that life dealt to an unwanted child. Had he been born into the warm embrace of a caring family, the harsh truths of the world might have been kept at bay. But Zane had a face that even his mother couldn't love and, as a result, he had been bouncing around the foster care system since before he could remember.

Babies, typically, have a fair shot at getting adopted but, here too, Zane's appearance worked against him. Everyone wanted to adopt a cute little bundle of joy but no one wanted Orion Zane. No family could stomach taking in a sallow-skinned, misshapen freak. Even his foster care families seemed to want to pass him on to the next home as soon as such a placement became available. By the summer he turned twelve, Zane had been through fourteen different homes.

That fourteenth home would be his last. He'd lived at Mrs. Abernathy's house for little over a year before he hit his twelfth birthday making it his longest placement. Mrs. Abernathy appeared to be a sweet older woman who liked to take in hard case kids. After all, she had three pre-teen foster children with her when she took in Zane. A jolly, red-faced church lady with a heart of gold was the ideal placement for a child that had yet to find acceptance anywhere.

The reality was Mrs. Abernathy's one and only love was her bottle of Jack Daniels. The children she took in? Well, the extra check she got for caring for them certainly helped keep a full bottle at her side. During school days, she merely had to make sure they got on the bus in the morning. And on weekends and holidays? She'd hand her charges a granola bar or two, herd them out the front door, and lock it firmly behind them. The door would remain locked until just after dusk...sometimes later, if Mrs. Abernathy's date with her bottle of Jack caused her to nod off early.

No one ever questioned why Mrs. Abernathy's wards wandered the street all day, every day. Or, if they did, the red-cheeked, old woman would chuckle and say, "Oh! You know how good it is for children to play outside! They love to run around the parks, the little rascals." Whether because it was too much effort to argue the point or because people are naturally inclined to latch onto their first impressions, no one ever thought to say otherwise.

First impressions and appearances had been the cause of a great deal of Zane's early woes but his hard-knock school had taught him well and now? He was a master of manipulating them. Whatever impressions Skye had once held of S.H.I.E.L.D. had been wretched away yesterday. Zane would like to take credit for that but, truly, it had just been a stroke of exceptional luck that the people Skye once held with such esteem had made such a spectacle of themselves in front of her. (Technically, in front of a camera, but it all amounted to the same thing in the end.) Their actions had certainly accelerated the timeline for his plan but Zane was nothing if not adaptable.

He'd been plotting this course of action since that fateful summer when he'd turned twelve. Birthdays weren't a thing in the Abernathy household. The fact that it was the day of his birth (according to the grimy birth certificate that followed him from school to school) didn't register for any of his fellow foster siblings or his foster mother. Since there was very little a freshly turned twelve year old could do without funds to celebrate the occasion, his birthday should have gone down much the same as any other day. Unfortunately, it was one of those blistering hot days where the heat index was off the charts and the weather channels were advising everyone to stay inside. The cement steps of Mrs. Abernathy's house was really no place to hang out on such a day so Zane tromped on down the road hoping to find shade or water at the local park. Instead, he found two other children: Adam Hall and Ryan Zuckerman.

Adam Hall and Ryan Zuckerman appeared to be model children. Adam was the son of the local minister. He volunteered at the church's food pantry on weekends, always managed to get exceptional grades on his tests, and was already a rising star on the local Little League team. Ryan, his best friend, was a crowd pleaser too. Polite, well-spoken, and with a slightly crooked grin, he was a hell-raiser with a knack for talking his way out of detention. Adults loved him with all his smiles and dimples, his 'yes ma'aming' and foot shuffling. He was all set up to be a heartbreaker in another few years.

The reality of their situation though? Zane had experienced both of their particular forms of torment before. Adam was the master of shoving people into lockers or toilets or other places they didn't belong. Ryan was just a step worse because he was relentless. All day, Ryan would pester and heckle Zane or whatever other misfortunate youth straggled past him. He'd even cajoled enough friends to upend Zane into a dumpster on the last day of school. The other boys had sat atop the lid for a full hour so Zane was left in the sticky mess of hot plastic struggling to breathe through the rotting lunch waste until all the other boys had been called home for supper. To make matters worse, Zane got back to Abernathy's so late he had no supper left waiting for him.

To say Zane would rather avoid these boys was a gross understatement but, unfortunately for him, neither the dangerous heat that kept most people trapped inside nor the supposed birthday luck that some might have gotten just for turning twelve would keep him from this encounter. Zane had just gotten into the shade of the trees and felt, with great relief, the relative coolness of the air there when a stone came hurdling down from above and struck him sharply on the head.

"What are you doing here, freak?" Ryan called. His friend was grinning next to him on a branch too far up the tree for Zane to really see. Another stone came whirling down toward Zane. This one hit him on the shoulder.

Zane cursed his classmates initiative for trouble. Why did they have rocks if they were sitting up in a tree anyway? Ducking his head, he mumbled a response and tried to move beyond their range.

A third stone hit him on the cheek, opening a cut. Hot blood oozed down his face but he was so hot and sweaty from his time in the sun, he didn't notice the difference.

"You're not wanted here, freak. I'm pretty sure there's a sign by the park that says you have to at least look human to enter." Another rock. This one missed.

"Stop. Please." Zane had asked only to feel another stone cut into his flesh as it punched against his chest. Blindly, he reached down grabbing the rock that had just hit him. He had only meant to throw it back at his tormentors to make them relent for a moment. His only design had been to get further into the forested park, to get away from both the brutality of the sun and his classmates alike. But his birthday luck picked the oddest moment to show up and the rock he threw back flew straight and true. It struck Adam right between the eyes so hard that the stone actually embedded a little in his forehead. It took but a moment but finally both the rock and boy tumbled from the tree with a sickening thud.

Frozen in fear, Zane watched as Ryan scurried down the tree and over to his friend. He watched as the other boy shook his friend, called to him, pressed his hand over his heart. Ryan went white. Then red. "You killed him. YOU KILLED HIM!"

And, with those three words, Orion Zane felt truly accomplished for the first time in his life. For once, Zane had felt there could be justice in the world – if he could just reach out and take it. Ryan's death had been much less clean than his friend's. It had been a hard won fight and Zane had taken as many, if not more, punches as the other boy. But, as the childhood rhyme so warns, sticks and stones can break bones. Zane hadn't gone back to the Abernathy house because his meager belongings weren't worth the risk but he had gone onward with the knowledge that death could bring such a sweet peace to a survivor. Peace and justice – what more noble cause could anyone strive for?

Zane dug through the closet of the apartment he'd spent the night in. The clothing looked to be far too big and dowdy for Skye but he found a colorful cotton scarf and an oversized pair of sunglasses that might serve her for a disguise. He knew she likely wouldn't need a disguise. As far as he knew, there was no APB out on Skye but since he'd told her as much to keep her from racing out to find her friends last night, he would have to keep up appearances. He would modified his own too. He'd go for dark hair, be a little shorter, more muscular. As disguises went, his would be far better than Skye's but there was little who could do to change that.

There were other things he could change, things he could control. Step one in maintaining his story was making sure that Skye couldn't get in touch with her less deserving friends. Zane was happy that Mike and Kara Lynn had gotten Skye this far, delighted with the run in at SHIELD that had really set things in motion, but those two were still merely human, still lesser than they should be. Skye might have seen them as valuable friends but that had to change. Skye needed a clean break from the people in her past that were tying her down, preventing her from realizing her full potential. Zane was sure that S.H.I.E.L.D. would assist him. They would surely get rid of Ward, his most difficult hurdle. Mike and Kara Lynn? Well, they just weren't going to answer the phone today.

The cafe he'd arranged to have Skye 'meet' some fellow Attilanians would be operated today by one of the Evolutus Guard. He had made sure to get in touch with them last night, using the phone he most certainly hadn't left at the last hotel. The phone at the cafe would be a dummy phone. Skye could call anyone she wanted and the phone would ring and ring and ring but that signal wouldn't go anywhere.

And tomorrow? The day after next? By then, it wouldn't matter. The Guard was everything and Skye would see that once she got over this little bump, once she could see the larger picture. The larger picture was what Zane was set to paint for her today. He knew that it wouldn't be advisable to just tell her about his Guard. He knew that to the world at large, they were nothing more than sadistic terrorists. The biased media was working against him, to turn his acts of preservation, his commitment to bettering the world into something dark and twisted. But, one day, the members of the Evolutus Guard would be heralded for what they truly were: heroes. And today? They'd take a giant leap towards that new reality.

Today was the work of years of sacrifice. It had been an investment in patience, in building the right sort of friendships, of acquiring the right supplies. For most of these years, he hadn't planned to walk away from this day. He'd always imagined his freedom from the judgement and brutality of the world would come at the price of his life. This was to be the grand finale to his smaller works. His magnum opus, his final act. But three months ago, while eating pie in little diner on the edge of D.C. as his urge to kill ate at him, Orion Zane's plans had shifted ever so much when Skye came in and introduced him to a much larger reality.

She had taught him that there was more to be done than just seeking retribution for the humiliations he'd once faced.

She had shown him that they weren't just a handful of mutated freaks.

Zane had always known he was different but his encounter with a diviner shard, like much else in his life, had not been his choice. The reasons for his powers had never been fully comprehensible until Skye came with her story of alien races and evolutionary splits in the genetic tree of humanity. Until then, his only rationale had been to give as much pain back to the world as he felt he'd received. Now, he had a true justification – a higher calling even. If they weren't just a handful of mutated freaks, if there was a much larger society of people like them, perhaps, this society was what needed changing.

Skye was hope. Zane knew, one day, she'd be responsible for giving that hope to so many of their kind. Today, unfortunately, some of theirs would have to pay the ultimate sacrifice to put her on that path. But, that too, was a mercy. By the nature of their abilities, some of his Attilanian friends craved their end; their abilities gave more pain than power. And to die while giving birth to the rise of their people? No sacrifice could be more noble. Zane would make sure their sacrifice would not go unsung. He would see that, when the dust cleared, and the righteous were sorted out from the wretched, their stories would be told.

His story, too, would be one full of the heroic valor that would be talked about for ages to come – all thanks to Skye. It would have been such a waste for him to leave the world on this day. This didn't have to be his final act. What if Monet had stopped with haystacks? The world would never have had his water lilies. What if Beethoven had stopped after the Moonlight Sonata? The world would never have his 9th symphony.

Today was only the beginning.

Entering the room where the other Attilanians were, Zane ignored their cold, blank stares. He felt bad for this crowd but it was obvious they were too broken to be of much use one way or another. Had they shown any willingness to commit to his plan or any self-preservation instincts or even just basic gratitude, Zane might have given them a heads up. Instead, he smiled blandly at the others in the room as he scanned it for Skye.

His Skye looked worse than she did the day before. Her skin was paler, her eyes puffy from crying, and she had dark rings under her eyes. The poor girl would have a tough time today too. But, then, she'd see that sometimes the world's wrongs could be re-worked, could be made right. Zane looked forward to putting the smile back on her face, that sassy bounce back in her step. He looked forward to having the gratitude he knew Skye would give him once she understood all that he had done for her. For them.

He handed her a pair of oversized sunglasses and a scarf. "You'll need to make sure no one can tell who you are. We don't want to get picked up on our way in." His careless smile was as much of a lie as the words that fell from his mouth. He could not wait until the day when he didn't have to keep up appearances for her. Lying to her was distasteful to him but, for today, he had to maintain this charade.

She glanced at the one called Videmus first then back at him. Her smile was weak, tired. Again, Zane felt a surge of protectiveness for her. He knew that was another thing she'd be grateful about. She didn't really like the eyeless one and he'd make sure she didn't have to see him ever again. Taking the scarf, she wrapped it around her hair, obscuring it. She slid the glasses onto her face and said, so sweetly, "I'm ready."

His Skye – ready for anything. Even as tired as she was, she would brave the day! He wanted to take her into his arms, pluck the glasses from her face, and kiss her but now was not the time. First, she needed to see why the others were so wrong for her. Only then would she be ready to come to him. Reaching out, he tucked a stray strand of hair back into her scarf. He thought, perhaps, she'd shivered at his touch. Was she already so affected by him? He knew that her infatuation with that human could only last so long. Grant Ward may be a pretty piece of eye candy but he was not a viable option for someone as precious as Skye. If she felt half as much need for him as he did her perhaps his true reward would come sooner rather than later.

With that though simmering in his mind, he exited the apartment. It truly was such a glorious day. The sun was shining brightly in an azure sky speckled with the white puffy clouds people would feel comfortable painting on a nursery wall. Birds were chirping from the trees. Zane was tempted to hum as he led Skye down the street but knew there was still a lot to accomplish before the day could be 'glorious' in more than just appearance.

Last night, Evolutus had set up three minor explosive devices around the New York Stock Exchange. Zane fully expected S.H.I.E.L.D. would arrive in time to deactivate them but, if they didn't, the damage would mostly be superficial. Loud and flashy but hardly damaging. The explosions were set to go off at 9 and, whether they succeeded or not, Zane was sure that some sort of law enforcement would be on hand to capture the obviously inhuman couple that would walk by the Exchange that morning.

It was his job, of course, to make sure that Skye would see that; she would see the unnecessary use of force on hapless pedestrians, see the prejudgement, the prejudice that her kind constantly faced. He would nurture her outrage. After all, he'd been controlling appearances for so long he knew just how to set to scene, to make it work to his favor. And the couple that would take the fall? They'd been part of Evolutus long enough to know just how to provoke a most satisfying retaliation from S.H.I.E.L.D. He was sure that this was the last push Skye needed to see to realize the righteousness of their cause. Change needed to happen for peace and justice to reign.

Zane could gift her with that change.

For every act of shaming humiliation or pain that humans had forced a member of Evolutus to endure, a demolition charge of C-4 had been loaded into an old subway train car parked indefinitely in the City Hall Loop, an abandoned station under the heart of New York City. His masterpiece was a work of great patience. The record of pain that went back years appeared to be almost frivolous when it amounted to only seven cars filled to the brim with those malleable bricks of pent-up disaster.

Those seven trains were set to roll out onto the underground tracks at intervals today. Zane would let Skye remotely trigger the seven underground explosions if she so desired. After their little show in front of the NYSE, he would take her to safety, take her to a place where she could have whatever vengeance she desired. Those explosions would disintegrate the very ground that the city was built on. Lower Manhattan was only about five feet above sea level. After today, only piles of rubble would manage that , they would wash the city clean of all that human filth.

As they neared Wall Street, Zane looked over at Skye. She'd been very quiet, no chatter, no babbling. She was currently eyeing a rusted out, blue conversion van parked on the side of the road. In the window a broken Benjamin Franklin bobblehead looked forlornly out at the world. Skye looked so intrigued by the vehicle that Zane, too, stopped to stare at it. "Can you believe they let that thing be parked here?" he asked, trying to guess at what thoughts had fixated her on the vehicular eyesore.

"What? ...uh... yeah."

Zane laughed at her incoherence. "You need caffeine. Badly. Lucky for you, we're here." He waved her through the door to the cafe and gave a slight nod to the man behind the counter. It was nearing 9AM. Zane knew that her attention would have to be on the street outside soon but he fully expected her to dash to the counter and demand to use the phone. Clearly, she was too tired to manage even that so Zane hastily ordered two coffees. Black for her. Cream and two sugars for him.

"Skye?" he asked, holding out his offering of coffee for her to take. Her focus on the street outside was just what he would need in a moment but he really wanted her to try her call first. He really needed her friends to appear as if they had cut and run and left her alone but for him. "Do you want to call Mike and KL?"

She hadn't taken off her oversized sunglasses so much of her face was still obscured. She nodded slightly though and made her way to the counter. Zane watched as she called, watched as no one answered. He was impressed by her lack of reaction. He'd expected more anger but, clearly, Skye had less of an investment in these so-called friends than he had once thought.

They sat in the window, facing the street. Zane had a clear view of the wall clock and he could barely keep himself from counting down. There was next to no pedestrian traffic today so Zane knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was likely already there. Did they clear the Exchange? Did they buy his faux threat and respond just as he hoped? They must have, at least, set up detours around Wall Street to limit pedestrian traffic. Though he didn't remember passing one on the way in but, then again, he had been so focus on other things.

His foot tapped impatiently on the floor as he stared down the long minute hand on the clock. It clicked away the time. 8:50. 8:51. 8:52. 8:53. 8:54. And then they came! Just as planned!

Olivia Ernest would not have needed to undergo elaborate makeup to star in the old Hellraiser movie. More pin-cushion than human, her powers never made up for the pain they caused her. Her partner on this fine morning was Roberto Lopez. Lopez had an excess of skin but not in the way most people did. He was not overweight at all. Truly, he was mostly just skin and bone. His power allowed him to control the dangling excess he had but this did little to aid him. Even Zane could hardly suppress the urge to meanly describe Lopez as the inhuman version of silly putty. It was a useless power especially since, aside from sheer excess, his skin had no super strength or invulnerability. He just had a lot more of himself to hurt. That coupled with the stares and taunts Lopez faced on a daily basis meant he'd readily volunteered for the suicide mission at hand.

A man oozing with skin and a woman dotted with pins walked slowly down the street together and, just as planned, the men and women in black body armor came down on them. Zane had to bite back his laugh of delight. Everyone was just so predictable...

From out of alley ways, from out of the Exchange, they dashed steadily toward the inhuman couple, guns drawn, commands of "Halt!" being shouted.

Zane glanced over at Skye only to find she was no longer sitting across from him. She had stood up with such haste, she'd knocked over her untouched coffee and the steaming liquid was sliding across the table, splashing down to floor.

Skye darted toward the door and had almost pulled it open when Zane reached out to grab her. "Skye? You can't go out there! It isn't safe!" He pulled her back with such force, the sunglasses flew from her face and for the first time, he saw her look at him with something close to loathing. For a brief second, he thought he'd let his appearance change back to the one he'd been born with, that she was seeing the ugly and misshapen creature he was underneath it all. It froze him in place just long enough for her right hook to slam into his face with a resounding crack. Then, she wretched free and was out the door.

"Don't shoot them!" She called to the amassed agents, drawing the sights of their guns to herself. "It'll trigger something worse...don't shoot. Just, please..."

Zane didn't know how she'd found out about that aspect of the plan. He'd been so careful. She hadn't had contact with anyone else who would know. Or had she? Had someone betrayed him? Worse, Skye herself was throwing him over to S.H.I.E.L.D., undermining the necessary purge of humanity that would make the world safer for their kind.

This wasn't how she was suppose to act.

She was suppose to be grateful.

She was suppose to understand.

She was suppose to be his Skye.

Not this horrifying, backstabbing, bitch.

He could see one of the men in black break formation and stride towards her. It was an older gentleman, the one they'd encountered at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Coulson? He knew Skye thought a great deal about this man once. That he'd been a mentor of sorts. But would she really choose him now? Would Skye choose the man complicit in the torture of their own kind over him?

Zane let out a howl of rage and strode out into the street. Immediately, he had all guns, all agents trained on him. He didn't care though. In fact, he found it rather funny. With a crazed laughter, he let his skin ripple and change. "You can't shoot me."

Apparently, that was a statement that demanded to be tested. One agent, a tall woman with fierce eyes, pulled the trigger on her gun. So, technically, they could shoot him. Still, he'd made his skin of stronger stuff. The bullet ricochet off him and pinged uselessly on the street.

"You can't tackle me." This time, he took the demonstration into his own hands and changed to something so small he appeared to vanish. If anyone blinked they would have missed it. When he came back, he was much larger and barely any resemblance to humanity had been stripped away. He was stronger, faster, and better now. "There's nothing you can do to stop me."

"We aren't here to stop you," the man called Coulson said, he kept his voice even and carefully moved his gun to his side, as if his show of submission mattered when every other agent was still ready to take him out. "We're just here to get Agent Skye." Slowly, he held a hand out to her. Zane held his breath. For a moment, he thought that Skye could make everything right again. She could reject this false call for peace, could return to him. But then, the traitorous bitch reached out to take the hand of a man who'd committed crimes against their people.

With that last betrayal, Zane felt the last of his hope die. If everyone wanted Skye so badly... well, he'd see to it that they couldn't have her. She was his. Zane's arm shot out with blinding speed. He grabbed the scarf wrapped around Skye's hair and used it to propel her back. With a cry of pain, she was pulled back into his arms, into his crushing embrace. "You...I would have given you everything. I would have given you the world." Her pain made her more beautiful and he was momentarily distracted. But, then, he felt it. A slow burn ran up his arms. His skin starting to tremor, to crack. She was using her power against him! With a hiss of pain, Zane pulled back and landed a concussive blow to her head. Skye went limp in his arms, her power gone with her consciousness.

"Orion," Coulson was trying to console him again. "Let us talk about your demands. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement if you'll just..."

A movement at the doors to the Exchange caught Zane's eye. A man in dark combat gear was moving towards them. Zane recognized Grant Ward even from this distance. Grant Ward working with S.H.I.E.L.D.? He should be dead. Or rotting in some subterranean holding cell. They'd all lied to him. Everything had been a lie.

Zane's focus came back just in time to see that Coulson had been creeping forward, was nearly on him, nearly had a hand on Skye. Lies. Betrayal. Trickery. Was there any question why humanity needed to be stopped? Zane thrust forward, colliding with the man, sending him spinning back onto the street. With a snarl, Zane said, "If I can't have her, no one can." He would destroy her for denying him his due, for her lies, for betraying their kind. He would destroy them too. His plan wasn't that far gone.

This wasn't how the morning was suppose to go. It didn't matter, now, if his scene played out with Lopez and Olivia. But, if nothing else, Zane was adaptable. He'd make sure they got their wish for death another way. He'd make sure that he moved forward with the rest of the day's design. Throwing Skye's limp body over his shoulder, he bolted away from the Exchange and ran blindly down the street toward the subway station on the corner. He could hear shots being fired behind him but if they hit, he did not feel it. He could hear the sharp pounding of booted feet on pavement and knew he was being pursued. It would not matter though for, today, luck was on his side. The last car of a train leaving the station was just visible as Zane reached the platform. With a fierce jump, he leapt out onto the tracks, grabbing the edge of the car. The metal of it was cold and bit painfully into his hand but Zane did not care.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Looking back at the agents just now gaining the platform, he grinned. Nothing mattered. That was a singularly freeing sentiment. With Skye still draped across his shoulder, Zane was whisked away into the darkness of the tunnels.

A/N: Extra thanks go out to ExellentlyEllen for breaking through some writer's block and doing her usual fantastic editing job. Thanks, too, to the readers who've liked and commented and kept giving me encouragement as the story unfolds. Phew! We're almost there!