The moon provided the lighting of their rendezvous, a symphony of police sirens providing a dim soundtrack. The warehouse they had selected to lay low in was rotting and falling apart, what little structure that remained providing hardly any shelter from the midnight chill. Deep shadows cast the three of them into silhouettes, panting and gasping for breath. Far in the distance, red and blue lights flashed between streets, but they came no closer.

Once it was certain that their pursuers weren't going to come any closer, there was an unhappy grunt and one of the figures tore himself free of another's grip and stumbled forward. Pulling himself up to his full height, the man — the only one of the three who could be considered "human" — sneered in the face of his associates.

"I am quite capable of holding myself up," he snapped, brushing his sleeve where the largest of the three had been holding onto his arm. Granted, it was for the express purpose of getting him away from the pursuing authorities more quickly, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. He straightened the red-tinted goggles over his eyes, trying to look composed and dignified, before turning back to the other two. "We can skip the formalities. I've lost patience for that sort of drivel over the years. Speaking of…" He gestured openly with both arms. "Why now? After all this time? I assume I've been released from my imprisonment to complete my end of the bargain."

The two non-human figures exchanged glances. The larger one grunted, almost uninterested, and turned his head away. With a noise of defeat, the smaller one took it upon himself to step out of the shadows. He stood hunched over, clearly not worried about intimidation or first impressions. Fangs jutted out from his lower jaw, lining his slightly protruding muscle. In the silver light from the sky, the orange fur covering his body appeared to glow.

"You have been rather hard to come by, Doctor," the ape-like creature spoke in near-perfect English, only the hint of a Chinese accent to his careful words. "We tried to find you two years ago, but it's only been now that you've made yourself known again."

The good doctor scoffed, then seemed to relax, puffing his chest out. "Yes, well— I had my hands full. Traversing other dimensions for the sake of my experiments and all that."

If either of the other two were impressed, then they didn't show it — dimension hopping or not, most of the last two years had passed him by on the other side of a prison cell. The small ape nodded absently, almost appeasing. "Then you should have a better idea of what you're doing than most."

He gestured, with one furry hand, to the tallest of the three — something that could no longer be considered a man despite the obvious masculine features. It had muscles thicker than most people, but also extra appendages and a blood lust that suited its pincers and the thick, suffocating webbing it could produce. At the command, the spider-like creature produced what appeared at first to be a stick.

Upon closer expression, it was clearly much more than that. The staff was metallic and shined, clearly cared for, reflecting the moonlight off of its curved base. One end held a crystalline green skull, artfully carved, and the other balanced a bird talon with three, double-pointed claws. There was a button near the fanged end, implying that, despite the craftsmanship, it was a tool and not a decoration.

There was a slight gasp of awe and the doctor took it without hesitation, running his gangly and pointed fingers over the shaft almost reverently. "Is this truly…?"

The ape nodded. "Yes. Pure antimatter."

Particle physics wasn't his area of study, but as a scientist, the doctor could appreciate the marvel of the object in his hands. He turned it over several times, admiring it, and curled it almost protectively to his chest. "I heard about the "accident" when I came back. Those Secret Scientists covered it up so well that I almost missed it. I'm guessing that there wasn't actually a leaking gas pipe?"

"The reality of his demise was far more complicated," the ape agreed grimly. He gestured to the weapon in the doctor's hands. "He split himself at the quantum level and was torn between dimensions. This weapon is, I believe, the first step to his return."

Thoughtfully, the doctor stroked his chin, dropping the smug and self-confident front to genuinely ponder the situation for a moment. "I suppose it is possible," he allowed. "Still, I will need the matter counterpart if I'm going to be tearing between dimensions without killing us all. Do you have that as well?"

For the first time, the ape looked unsure. He shook his head. "No, I do not. But I do know where I can find it. It belongs to a child."

There was a snort of disgust, a sneer on the doctor's face. "Children can be quite meddlesome, though." He opened his lab coat and tucked the anti-matter weapon away neatly, feeling how it sizzled and tingled ever-so-slightly against his skin and the fabric and anything else it came into contact with. "Very well. I do owe him. You two can procure the counterpart weapon that we need and I'll get to work on constructing a suitable body. I'm sure that there is no shortage of fascinating subjects in the area…"

No more words were said. Finished, the doctor turned away and took his leave from the incriminating scene. The two that he left behind had polar opposite expressions — doubt and determination — but when they looked at each other, there was a shared convention. Regardless of how it turned out, they both knew full-well where their loyalties were tied.

The orange ape turned his head toward the moon through a splintered gap in the roof. He closed his eyes, already muttering apologies under his breath for what the horrible things he knew he would do. "The ends justify the means," or at least, that was how the saying went.

"I'm sorry," the Xing-Xing muttered to no one. "I will be seeing you soon… Old friend."