Disclaimer: Aberrant, owned by White Wolf Games. The Incredibles, owned by Pixar and Brad Bird. Golden Avenger, owned by HERO games.

"Authorities still have not been able to determine the source behind the massive cyber-attack that briefly crippled several networks around the world, specifically in the Asian and Pacific Rim theaters operation. However, that hasn't prevented some people to come up with their own speculations about the cause."

-CBC News

"Though authorities have not determined who was behind the massive cyber-attack that shook the Asian-Pacific Rim, Utopia officials appear certain that David Flynn, the Teragen, or, perhaps both, were behind it, particularly after Flynn's unprovoked action taken against the Project Utopia and the United Nations General Assembly."

-Sandra Raldo, CTV News

"And in the news this week, CTV, our fellow Canadian station up here in the Great North, has suddenly done a one-eighty and become the official Canadian Broadcast Arm for Project Utopia or, at the very least, an outlet for N!Channel. Okay, by my own admission, I'm a fairly liberal guy and lean left of center, but even I know pure-grade Alberta field cookies from smell alone and Utopia reeks of it. It's just sad to see CTV suddenly sell its soul so quickly in the last three days since Lloyd Robertson got hospitalized."

-Rick Mercer, "The Mercer Report", CBC

"Okay, so let's make out a score card shall we? Utopia sicks Miller and N!Channel on David Flynn, David Flynn destroys Miller's career along with several Utopia diplomats, then someone using Utopia equipment tries to assassinate Flynn, Flynn dumps information on Utopia's 'extra-curricular' activities to the UN General assembly, and now there's what appears to be a lull in this little war between the groups.

"Now I know there are people out there, aside from Utopia, who believe Flynn is just some upstart punk kid. Hell, to be honest, I thought the same way about him myself. But given the fact that Utopia has gone out of their way to try and take him out and he's produced some pretty damning evidence about some of the shit they've been doing, it's obvious that he's much more than what a lot of people perceive him to be. In fact, the more they go after him, the more credibility they give him.

"However, I do have to bring up one question about Flynn that many are reluctant to ask: What's his angle? What's his agenda? It's obvious he's up to something, but what is his ultimate endgame. He claims that he and his crew are not political but, for a 'punk kid', he's playing a damn good game for a rookie.

"As for this 'lull', I've got a sick feeling that this is not a 'ceasefire'…both sides are just pausing to reload."

-Henry "Duke" Rollo, "The Duke Rollo Show" on XM Radio

"A lot of people know my stance on novas; I strongly believe they should register with the government. David Flynn and his group obviously oppose my view and they're welcome to disagree with me, but I can't help but respect the man. He openly admits he's a nova, he's not hiding behind a secret identity, and neither is most of his staff. I just don't understand why he just doesn't officially register. Other than that, he and his crew are role models to young Americans today."

-"Golden Avenger" Robert Kaufman on "The Glenn Beck Program", FOX

"Okay…that's gotta' suck for Flynn, having Robert Kaufman saying good things about him. Face it, the only reason Kaufman is saying that shit is because Flynn is standing up to Utopia and he needs all the allies/tools he can find. If Utopia weren't a threat, Kaufman would have had PRIMUS agents rounding up Flynn's crew and throwing them into detention camps. And Flynn knows this."

-Anonymous Post, H-Cove

Metroville Police Plaza 1

Metroville, California

The first thing he was aware of was the cold and lumpy mattress he was lying on. He then heard echoes of voices and was aware of dim lighting on his eyelids. After a couple seconds, he opened his eyes and blinked them a couple times as he adjusted to the semi-dim lighting.

"Hello, sunshine," he heard someone say, "did you sleep well?"

"Go away," Jean-Paul Renard muttered trying to get back to the dream he was having involving paragliding over volcano. "I'm sleepin'."

"Okay," Detective Daniel O'Reilly said as he held the small bag between the bars of the jail cell. "If you don't want this hot ham and cheese croissant, I'll eat it. After all, it's from that crazy French place from the north side you were talking about the other day."

"La Vie En Rose?" Jean propped himself up and looked at the now familiar police detective. He then looked down at himself and realized he was still wearing an orange prison jumpsuit and was sitting in an actual prison bed. "Wow," he said as he grabbed the bag from O'Reilly. "Accommodation upgrade and room service…you're too kind."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," O'Reilly warned, "they're still fighting over who gets custody of you. Utopia still wants you, but now PRIMUS is getting involved."

"Great," Jean rolled his eyes, "just what I needed, Golden Avenger and his patriotic glee club of the damned." Jean took a bite of his croissant, closing his eyes for a moment to savor the taste. "Oh hell yeah…it's not quite like home, but fucking close. Thank you, Detective, I owe you."

"You're welcome, but you're still a menace." The detective then pulled up a chair outside the cell and sat down. "You know," he said, "I don't get it. You had a chance to escape but you didn't take it, why?"

"If you think those were my people trying to rescue me, Detective, then you are sadly mistaken."

"Oh, I know that. I've seen enough ambushes in my time and this was not an extraction job. It was a hit, pure and simple. However, we're still not sure about your boy Slapstick and why he was even there."

"Slapstick was…well…being Slapstick," Jean said, wincing as he remembered what happened to the crazy nova mercenary. "That reminds me, Detective, did he-?"

"Oh yeah," O'Reilly replied before Jean could finish his sentence. "A Utopia retrieval team showed up to take his body only to find the ME they had sent ahead to examine his body tied up, gagged, and stuffed in the body bag they were going to transport him in." Despite his best effort, he couldn't help laughing. "They also had to call a proctologist to remove the poor bastard's tools from his ass." Both men laughed at that for a couple seconds, and then O'Reilly's expression became serious. "But seriously, Renard…why haven't you run yet? I know you could break out of here at any time, especially since we haven't stripped you down and put you in a bare cell like last time."

Well, Detective, it's quite simple really…if I leave town, someone might trigger this little device in my head that will pretty much kill me. Jean shook his head at that thought, realizing how ridiculous that sounded even if it was true. However, that wasn't the real reason he wanted to stay.

"What's the matter, Renard, see someone you know?"

Jean remembered those words coming from the man calling himself Behemoth. They were frightening because Jean recognized the face of the man when he lost his helmet. Though the man appeared at least twenty years younger, he was a dead ringer for a younger Mr. Incredible.

That's not possible. Bob Parr is a middle aged man in his forties, probably pushing fifty…but who the hell was that and why did his companions seem so familiar?

Ever since he was recaptured and brought back to 1 Metro Plaza, Jean kept thinking about the novas that attacked the convoy. "Tell me something, O'Reilly," he finally said, "did they ever identify the people who attacked the convoy?"

O'Reilly shook his head. "Only on two of them; Legion-22 and Decay…they were part of a group that included Gator. No one's crying about their deaths and some of the brothers in blue are wondering why we should even bother holding you on that. But the other three…we got nothing. All we know is that they were dressed all in black, wore black helmets, and moved like a team."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Jean said, a thoughtful look on his face as he got up to stand in the middle of his cell. "Legion-22 and Decay, though they were with those three, they seemed to be operating separately. I'm willing to bet the other three let them loose to soften us up."

"But you have no clue who they were?" O'Reilly asked.

Jean shook his head. "No," he replied, "but you're right, Detective…they moved like some sort of spec-ops team. From what I gather, they surgically divided the convoy up, and systematically took out the novas that Utopia assigned to the convoy before they got to us."

For a few seconds, O'Reilly said nothing, merely nodding in agreement as he mentally processed the information. "You still didn't answer my question," he finally said. "Why haven't you run yet?"

"Because things have changed," Jean said, "I know this may sound crazy, Detective, but I get this feeling that I stumbled into the middle of something really big. You ever get that feeling…you know…the kind where you're at ground zero of something but can't quite fully grasp the situation even though you know that, for some reason, this is a significant moment in your life?"

"Yeah," O'Reilly said after thinking about it for a moment, "except usually a firefight would break out and the next thing I know, two of my buddies are on the ground, the rest of my unit is taking fire, and then I see a damn television crew huddled across the street shooting footage that will be used by their station to make it look like my crew were the bad guys." He then gave Jean a bitter smile. "I thought that bullshit ended when I got out of the Marines and went back to being a cop. Needless to say, I was wrong."

"As the old song goes, 'it's a mad, mad world'." Jean walked over to the bars of his cell and looked the detective in the eye. "You asked me why I haven't run yet, O'Reilly, the answer is simple. I still don't know what to do yet about my situation, but I figure I should at least warn you, I do plan on breaking out soon."

O'Reilly nodded. "I kind of figured as much," he said. "And I know you'd have no problem escaping, but I've been ordered to tell you to stick around for a little bit. Someone wants to talk to you. In fact, that's why you're in a standard cell and not the stripped down one; they wanted to talk to you before you 'escaped'."

"Seriously?" Jean took another bite of his croissant. "And why do they want to talk to me?"

"Because, Bomber," said a new voice, "I've got a proposal for you."

Jean felt his blood freeze when he heard that voice. O'Reilly grinned at his discomfort as the newcomer stepped out of the shadows.

Oh shit, Jean thought as he recognized the tall wiry black man with the shaved head and goatee. Though the man was in normal clothes, Jean knew the voice, mannerisms, and facial structure. Frozone!

O'Reilly nodded at the man. "Councilman Best," he said. "Meet Jean-Paul Renard aka Bomber. Renard, meet Councilman and soon-to-be mayor-elect Lucius Best."

"Getting ahead of yourself, Detective," Best chuckled, "the elections not for a couple days."

"I don't see Sansweet winning this," O'Reilly said. "He's pissed off too many people and Utopia's popularity isn't very high in most of the city."

"Still, don't jinx it for me." The councilman then turned to Jean. "Hello, Renard, thanks for seeing me."

Jean spread his arms to gesture at the cell he was in. "Yeah, well, you'll have to forgive the state of my office here," he laughed, though he kept his eyes on Best, preparing for the possibility of an attack. The last time they met, Frozone sent Jean "sewer-surfing", trapped in a block of ice…not exactly one of Jean's better moments. "So, Councilman, what can I do for you?"

Before he answered, Best turned to O'Reilly. "Detective, would you mind giving me a couple minutes?"

"No problem, Councilman," O'Reilly replied, making his way towards the exit down at the end of the corridor. "I'll probably grab a coffee from the stand across the street."

"Thanks Danny," Best said. "And tell your father I'll be seeing him on the court tonight."

The detective waved over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.

Best waited until he was certain the detective was gone before he returned his attention to Jean. "So…Jean," he said, "how ya been?"

"Ah, you know how it is…Fro…er…Luc…um…what can I call you?"

"Since we're going by first names, Lucius or, if you want to be the normal ass you tend to act like, you can call me 'Mr. Best'. Councilman will also work."

"Not Mr. Mayor?"

"Not yet."

"Ah, so the election is pretty much a lock, huh?"

"Pretty much." Best silently studied Jean for a couple seconds, the expression on his face telling Jean that he was trying to make a decision on something. "Okay," he finally said, "let's cut the bullshit, Jean. The last time I saw you, it was in LA and I do recall dumping your sorry ass in the sewer system."

"Oh please," Jean fired back, "You hit me with an ice blast as I jumped. And by the way…that so wasn't cool. No one told me they had re-scheduled the deluge release an hour earlier."

"What can I say," Best grinned, "shit happens."

"Oy…bad pun."

The smile on Lucius Best's face faded and was replaced with a more serious expression. "I talked to one of the surviving guards from the prison convoy," he said. "I heard how you antagonized the Paladino kid, trying to goad him into a fight."

"Yeah, well, if my plan had worked, he would have been on life-support by the time I was done with him," Jean said. "I don't know if I should be asking this, but…Violet…how is she?"

"She's out of her coma, if that's what you're asking. There's been some…complications…with the medical procedure she went through, but I've been told her condition has improved." Then he arched an eyebrow in realization. "You actually care about her, don't you?"

"Hey, we may be adversaries, but that's more out of tradition than anything else. Besides, she's really cute when she's pissed. Her lips twist into this really cute snarl."

"Yeah, and I recall you were singing soprano when she hit you with that force-field ball."

Jean winced. "Don't remind me," he grumbled. "On the other hand, I did dare her to try and take me down. Just wasn't expecting THAT." He couldn't help smiling as he remembered that incident and Violet actually apologizing.

"Sorry," she had said, "I actually meant to do this!" And then he was hit from behind by another forcefield ball that sent him flying into a wall.

Jean shook his head as he remembered the half-dozen times he encountered her after that event. Their fighting became more of a cross between combat and flirting which would start usually after he had defeated Violet's brother.

"Okay, that wasn't nice."

"Hey, your brother is a speedster and I had to find a way to slow him down."

"You dumped him in a vat of taffy!"

"Your point?"

Jean was still laughing at that memory when the sound of the councilman clearing his throat brought him back to the present.

"Why are you still here, Jean?" Best asked. "Danny's right, you could have busted out of here. What's going on?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Jean replied.

"Kid, we're super-powered beings who do crazy shit now and then. I think it's safe to say that suspension of disbelief is required when it comes to people like us. I also want to know what it is that has Jean-Paul Renard scared."

"Scared," Jean scoffed. "I'm not scared? Well…maybe not much."

"Jean, seriously, what's going on? According to Danny out there, you were out for blood and he was concerned that you were going to put Paladino and a few of the Utopia people in body bags."

"That was the general idea, but then we got attacked."

"So, why should that bother you? You've been attacked before like that, and your ability probably would have allowed you to survive."

"I'm not sure," Jean said, "these people knew all about Paladino and me and they moved in to take us out accordingly. They would have succeeded if 'Stick hadn't gotten involved. They had everything planned out, but he was the one factor they hadn't counted on. With his help, we were able to stall them long enough to force them to abandon their mission." He then walked over and sat back down on his bed. "But they'll be back," he said. "I've seen too much, of that I'm certain, but I still can't believe what I saw."

"What makes you think …" Best started to ask, then the realization hit him. "You got a look at them, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Jean replied, "I got good look at one of them when his helmet got blown off. And…" He shook his head again. "Fuck it," he finally said, deciding it was best to get it out in the open, "I saw your best bud, Bob Parr, except he was in his twenties again, had a full head of hair, and was the leader of the team that attacked us. Yeah, I know, it sounds crazy but that's what I saw."

Jean was expecting some snide comment from the other man, but was surprised at the several seconds of silence. When he looked up, he saw Best standing there, a thoughtful look on his face. "Kid," the councilman finally said, "with what I've learned over the last few months, that doesn't sound crazy at all. And you're right, you did end up in the middle of something and you truly have no idea of what you've gotten yourself into."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Best laughed, shaking his head. "No," he said, "but I don't either. But since you've stumbled into it, I thought it would be best to lay out a few options for you." He then began counting off with his fingers. "Option one, you can stay here and play prisoner until PRIMUS, Utopia, or someone takes you off the city's hands and throws you in a hole somewhere; but we both know that you won't let that happen and will escape or die in the attempt."

"Yeah…not really keen on that one," Jean said.

"Option two," Best continued, "you escape from custody, resume being an outlaw hero, but know that whoever is out there will eventually be coming for you and you will be alone when facing them."

"I'll take my chances…and wait…hold on, I'm not a 'hero'. I'm a mercenary."

"Please," Best snorted, "you're the only nova mercenary I know of who would break off in the middle of a firefight to pull some kids out of a burning building."

"Hey, I didn't know they were in there and Inferno started the fire, not me. Besides, I'm not that heartless. And, for the record, I did beat the shit out of that fucker because he deserved it."

"Be that as it may," Best said, "your general attitude and the way you present yourself on the 'net has made you something of a hero, much to the chagrin of parents worldwide I'd imagine."

"I have a sick feeling where this is going, what's option three?"

The councilman gave Jean an evil grin. "Well, I'm so glad you asked. Like I said earlier, I got a proposal that you might be interested in."

"What makes you think I'd be interested?"

"Because, Jean," Best said, his voice taking an ominous tone, "you have nowhere to go." Then his expression eased up a little. "And," he added, "how would you like it if you had people watching your back when whoever attacked you decides to come back and finish you off?"

Jean didn't answer right away. Instead he weighed all three options for a few seconds before deciding to hear Best out. "Okay," he finally said as he got up again and approached the bars of his cell. "I'm listening."

Emerald Night Bistro

Manhattan, New York

1600 Hrs

"Okay, not that I'm complaining, mind you," Zoe said as she sat down in the chair David pulled out for her, "but why are we here?"

"Well, a couple reasons," David replied. He sat down across from her and then picked up a menu. "I understand this place has some of the best Thai food in Manhattan and it's a known hang-out for up and coming business leaders and political figures of tomorrow."

"So you are willingly hanging out with the snobby corporate elite you like to poke fun at, why?"

David shrugged. "Because the food is good and, the table we're sitting at belongs to a Hong Kong business man named Edward Fong."

"Wait, I know that name," Zoe said, snapping her fingers as she tried to remember something. "Edward Fong…you mean 'Blazin Eddy' Fong, that hacker from the 90s?"

"Yes," said a new voice, causing both David and Zoe to turn and look at the Asian businessman standing there, his long black hair tied back in a pony-tail. He was flanked by two stern looking bodyguards who looked like they were waiting for the orders to toss Zoe and David out the door. "And would mind explaining to me why you two are sitting at my table?"

"Waiting for you," David replied as he stood up and offered his hand. "Mr. Fong, I am-"

"David Flynn," Fong said, shaking David's hand. "I know who you are, but why are you here? I do have an office, you know." Though there was some mild irritation in Fong's voice, David could sense the man's curiosity.

He knows that I paid a hefty sum to bribe the manager to seat us here, David thought to himself, and he's curious as to why I would go so far as to intrude on a place he comes to when he wants to get away from the trade.

"My apologies, Mr. Fong," David bowed his head slightly as he spoke, "but given what's happened in the last couple days, particularly to some of your colleagues yesterday, I thought we should talk about the person responsible."

The two guards flanking Fong tensed for a moment, catching what David was saying. However, they relaxed when Fong briefly turned and nodded to them. "Go," he ordered them, "and see that no one else disturbs us." He waited until they were gone and then sat down at the table. When he spoke again, his irritation was gone. "You know who was behind the incident that crippled some of my colleagues' networks?"

"I do," David replied. "And I got a name…Lady Ion."

Fong softly cursed in Cantonese for a moment and shook his head. "You are certain of this?" he asked David.

David pulled out a thumb-drive and handed it to Fong. "Comparisons of some of her program algorithms from previous attacks and the 'Soul Killer' program she attempted to use on me. It's not the whole program, just what was left from it after we killed it."

"And you trust me with a copy of that fragment?" Fong asked, inspecting the thumb-drive. "Despite who I work for?"

David couldn't help laughing at Fong's question. "Mr. Fong, I understand there are some people who would consider this exchange an act of treason, but even you have to agree that this isn't about national interests, this is about survival. There's also a nice little encrypted puzzle I threw in there, just to amuse you. Given your skill level, I figure you'll crack it in less than ten minutes. Think of it as a digital box of Cracker Jacks with an awesome toy inside."

"What kind of toy?"

"Oh nothing," David said, grinning at the man. "It's just a list of safe-house locations. What you have your associates do with it...is not my concern."

"How do I know if this is not an elaborate set up by your government?"

"Oh c'mon, Fong, do I look like a government agent to you? I'm only eighteen...I'm just a punk kid."

This time, it was Fong's turn to laugh. "Eighteen...a punk kid? Flynn, you are the son of a weapons designer and mass murderer, and you only recently surfaced in public in the last year. My people have been trying to dig into your background and you know what we found? Nothing. Oh, there's a trail that traces your birth and existence, but it's very faint. That means you have either lived a very dull life or you represent a possible threat that people have gone to great lengths to hide. I'm inclined to believe the latter, especially with the way your own government is wary of you."

David's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"Of course," Fong chuckled. "My government sees you as a person of interest and, to be honest, had they known of your existence and abilities much sooner, they might have tried to extract you."

"Or kill me."

"Well, yes," Fong admitted, "after all, we wouldn't have wanted you to fall into the wrong hands. However, we didn't know about you back then and, well, coming after you now would be meaningless. Besides, your latest actions involving the exposure of Utopia agents seems to have bought you some leeway with my superiors. As it stands now, they don't view you as an enemy...at the moment."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it. No...seriously...don't mention it." Fong then gestured at a waiter who came to their table. "William, I'll have my usual and," he then looked over at Zoe and David, "would you two like anything?"

David shook his head. "No, thanks," he said, "I think I pushed things enough by violating your private sanctum. I only came here to talk to you and give you that drive."

Fong nodded and smiled as David and Zoe got up from the table. "No apologies necessary, David Flynn," he said, shaking David's hand. "This interruption was worthwhile and I'm certain my associates will agree."

"Good to hear," David said. He then proceeded to walk with Zoe towards the exit.

"Oh, and Mr. Flynn," Fong called out.

David paused and half-turned in the man's direction. "Yes?"

"If you're ever interested, I could arrange the occasional job for you and your people."

"I'll keep that in mind, Mr. Fong," he said, giving the man a slight nod before following Zoe out of the restaurant.

"Would you mind telling me what that was about?" Zoe asked as the limo pulled away. "Did really I see you do what I think saw you do?"

"What do you think you saw?"

"Um...if I understand correctly, you gave a Chinese intelligence operative information leading to the whereabouts of the nova that tried to take you down online."

David nodded. "Yep, that's right. I gave him a list of safe-houses she has used or will use."

"And they will go after her and hit those locations?"

"Oh yeah."

"Okay, I'm not trying to come off as being uber-patriotic or anything, but isn't that kind of an act of treason?"

"Not really."

"But what if they capture her?" Zoe asked. "You know they'll probably try to turn her and use her."

"If I was certain they were going to find her, I'd be worried about that. But it's not gonna' happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

"As I said, I gave Fong a list of safe-houses Lady Ion has used or has set up."

"Yeah, which means they'll find her when they..." Zoe stopped herself when her mind processed what David had said. "Oh, you sneaky bastard," she giggled.

"That's right," David chuckled, "I didn't give him the complete list. She'll know her safe-houses have been hit and I'm certain she'll try to figure out which ones have been compromised and which ones are still safe." Then his smile faded, his expression becoming a cold mask. "And when she thinks she's safe, that's when I'll pay her visit."

3 November

Avalon Industries

R&D Facility #7

Chicago, Illinois

2200 Hrs

Even though the reinforced Eu-Metal wall was designed to withstand the impact of high velocity tank-shells, it still buckled under repeated assault from the fists pounding against it. Even though the sixty-four square foot metal slab was designed for the purpose of taking such punishment, the nova called Behemoth was more agitated than usual.

Correction, he was not agitated, he was pissed.

Behemoth, also called Robbie by his close friends and Director Lavielle, prided himself on being an even tempered individual. When in combat situations, he was always cool under fire and he never let his emotions get in the way of the objective. Once given a task, he would carry out his orders and eliminate the target. Yes, he was pretty much a glorified "cleaner", but he and his crew were good at it. Yes, there were times when he was mildly annoyed and even angry, but he managed to push that aside and burn it off in the gym.

However, today, he was feeling rage.

It was supposed to be a simple job: Ambush the Utopia convoy, extract Brian Paladino (dead or alive), and leave no survivors. It truly was a simple job, until three factors came into play.

The first factor was Director Lavielle assigning freelance operatives Legion-22 and Decay. Behemoth knew of their reputations as mercenaries, but he considered them, like he considered all nova Elites, an insult to the security profession. However, they made for good cannon fodder and, despite their assignment to the mission, they were reasonably competent.

Unfortunately, they didn't count on the second factor; the last minute pick-up of Jean-Paul Renard, otherwise known as the Elite called Bomber. When informed of the last minute change, Behemoth was assured that Bomber would pose no real threat and he was inclined to agree. After all, Bomber was considered by most Elites to be a joke and an insult to their profession because of his irreverent attitude and flamboyance. In hindsight, Behemoth realized that the flamboyance and irreverent attitude hid a very skilled nova combatant. Legion-22 and Decay dismissed Bomber as a joke and it got them killed.

Then there was the third factor: the unexpected rival of the insane nova called Slapstick. Behemoth had heard about Slapstick, but dismissed the man as a clown and an even bigger fool than Bomber. However, he had underestimated the clown's ability and it cost them. He did take some satisfaction when Tag cored the bastard, but that vanished when he learned that Slapstick had somehow survived and put the Aeon medical examiner in the body bag that was meant for him.

So, after reporting back to base, Behemoth went to the gym to take his anger out on the equipment. In the last day, he had gone through four sheets of the reinforced Eumetal, punching holes in them repeatedly.

Renard.

Paladino.

Slapstick.

He would repeat those names with each impact.

"Okay, 'Hemoth, time to take five." Behemoth turned to see Tagger standing there, holding out a gallon jug of water to him.

"Why are you here, Tag?" he asked, taking the offered water.

"Well, this is a gym and I do work out here, just like all the other operatives."

"Please," Behemoth snorted in amusement, "you only show up to use your X-Ray vision on some of them."

"Well, there is that too," Tagger admitted as he opened up his own smaller bottle of water.

"And if Vel and the other women knew what you were doing, you would be a greasy little smear."

"Maybe." The younger nova took a sip of his water. "Then again, death might be worth it."

"Who said anything about killing you?" asked a new voice before an invisible force picked Tagger up off the ground.

"Waaaaugh!" Tagger screamed as he was tossed halfway across the gym before landing in a heap. "Ow," he muttered a couple seconds later.

Behemoth turned around to see Velocity standing there, dressed in sweats and toweling her face dry. "Vel," he said, "anyone tell you that you're a scary bitch sometimes?"

The young woman smirked at him and playfully punched him in the ribs. "Only you, big guy," she answered, "and I might take offense at that some day." She then waved her hand lazily in the air and Tagger, who was just starting to get back up, was knocked off his feet again.

"Oof! Hey!"

"But that will only happen when I tire of Idiot over there."

"Excuse me," Tagger called, "but I can hear you!"

Another wave of her hand sent a medicine ball flying into Tagger's gut, knocking him back down again.

"You do have rage issues," Behemoth said as he watched Tagger groan and try to get back up a third time.

Velocity tilted her head to the side for a moment as she considered that possibility. "Well, maybe a little," she admitted. Then her expression softened as she looked back up at Behemoth. "But seriously, Robbie, what's with you? You've been 'Captain McCranky' for the last day or so."

"I'm fine," Behemoth snapped, then he sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Vel, just pissed off at the mission."

Velocity stared at him for a moment and then, suddenly, began to shake her head and laugh.

"What's so funny?" Behemoth asked.

After a couple seconds, the young woman managed to recover and took a breath before she could answer. "I'm sorry, Robbie…you're bothered by THAT?"

"We failed in our objective," he said.

"Under no fault of our own," she countered.

"She's right," Tagger said as he half-stumbled over to where they were. "We followed our mission parameters. How were we to know that bastard Slapstick was going to show up?"

"That's not what concerns me," Behemoth said.

"Then what is it?" Tagger asked, before quickly glancing over at Velocity. "Please don't hit me again," he said to here, "I wanna' know what's got bossman off his game here."

"Oh…alright," Velocity mock whined, "I suppose that's fair." She then turned back to Behemoth. "So, Robbie, talk to us…inquiring minds want to know…who shoved the blackberry vine up your ass?"

"Okay," Tagger said to her, bringing his finger up as if he were reprimanding her, "the imagery on that one…very disturbing…seriously."

"It's Renard," Behemoth said.

"What about him?" Tagger asked. "He's an arrogant douche, what's the big deal?"

"An 'arrogant douche' that blew my helmet off and got a good look at my face."

"So what?"

"He recognized me." Behemoth then shook his head. "Okay, maybe not me…but he recognized who I resembled; I could see it on his face. I should have killed him there."

"Look, 'Hemoth, we had to get out of there. The local authorities were showing up and we didn't want to risk this being a full blown public incident. Someone had to make the call to withdraw and, to be honest, I'd do it again." Tagger then paused to look at Velocity who was staring at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Velocity said, shaking her head. "It's just that…for a moment…you actually seemed all leadership-like." Then she shook her head again and giggled. "No…wait, never mind. I just realized who I was talking to."

"Bitch," Tagger muttered under his breath.

"I heard that."

"You were meant to. But seriously, 'Hemoth…don't worry about it. It was combat, the situation was fluid and things got blown." Then Tagger slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Besides," he added with a grin, "we got plenty of people to kill and I'm certain Director Lavielle will give us the green light to go after him."

"Really?" All three of them turned to see Phillipa Laville approaching them, wearing an evening gown which got a soft whistle from Tagger. "Velocity," Phillipa said, "smack him for me."

"OW! What the hell was that for?"

"Hey, the Director told me to hit you, I hit you...she is the boss, you know."

Phillipa rolled her eyes, chuckling softly. Then she looked up at Behemoth and gently touched him on the cheek. "They're right, Robbie," she said. "The situation had unstable parameters, so the failure is not on you or your team." When she got no response from the man, her eyes narrowed as she did a light telepathic scan of his mind. "But that's not your concern, is it?" Then she smiled when she saw what he was truly angry about. "It's not the fact he recognized you, it's the fact that you didn't kill them."

"You know my reputation, Director," Behemoth said, bowing his head slightly.

"Indeed I do," Phillipa replied. "Once a target is assigned, you take them out. You take pride in your work, and that's to be commended. But don't obsess over this, because it will only dull your edge. However, your concern about recognition is valid and Renard does present a dangerous risk to our project."

There was a sudden flash of life in Behemoth's eyes, and his body shifted slightly as he straightened up a little. "I take it you have read my report and suggestions."

"I have, and I agree." Phillipa smiled at him again. "So," she said, "how would you like a second shot at him?"