Disclaimer: I don't know nothin' that belongs to Marvel or any of Da Big Men with the fancy legal paperwork. Original characters like Richard Freyes, Nemesis, and all the others you'll recognize (because you wouldn't have seen them in any comic) are all MINE MINE MINE!!! Any similarities to living dead or undead is coincidential blah blah... wait... I think I copied a zombie in this one. *shrugs*

I'll be honest in I don't know exactly what this story should be rated, but there are parts I feel would probably be R, and those are for violence. Richard can't seem to get laid so there isn't much room for sex. Whatever, better to be safe so it's rated R.

Bless you all for your quick enthusiastic reads and reviews. I won't forget you. Here is chapters 4, 5 & 6 to help keep the enthusiasm going. There is alot more coming still, so hopefully I'll manage to snag at least a couple enthusiastic readers who eagerly await the next installments. I will try to get the next chunk of chapters online as quick as possible. Enjoy.

Chapter 4

No light reached the interior of the ventilation shaft, but that was alright because Richard could see with his goggles . The world appeared as if he was looking through a red lense. He crawled for hours through a constantly shifting maze of tubes and air ducts through the complex.

In time Richard saw light streaming up from the bottom and reflecting off the roof of the shaft. Dust could be seen floating in the beams as they streaked through the grate. Richard could hear voices echo down the shaft but he couldn't quite make them out. He noticed something scratched into the side of the shaft to his left. He looked over and scratch crudely into the metal siding was written, "No Men Allowed..."

Richard continued his crawl and looked down the grate where a young girl slept soundly on a bed. She looked no older than 16 and was very pretty. Standing beside her bed were two men. He saw a bald man in a very expensive suit talking with another man in a long black raincoat and a black brimmed hat. The second man took off his hat and Richard jumped in the vent he was watching from. It was Magneto.

Richard drew his pistol from his side and crouched above the grate and took aim at the top of Magneto's head. The cock made a quiet click as Richard put his finger on the trigger. The gun made a muffled crack as it fired and Richard saw the man with the black hat crumple to the ground. The bald man looked up and Richard fired again and watched the man's face vaporise in a red mist, and the body fell with a loud clump that woke up the girl. She looked up directly at Richard and he lined up the sight on her forehead. She pointed a finger and whispered, "No men are allowed past this point. You are not allowed past this point, go home."

The trigger slid easily back and the gun bucked and fired the empty cartridge out of the side of the chamber. The case bounced off the top of the vent shaft, landed with a quiet chink against the metal sheet and rolled around in a small circle before coming to a complete stop. Richard looked down into the room and the girl was replaced with Magneto who lay flat on his back, blood soaking into the bed sheets. Magneto's face was covered with his black hat. The grate gave in with a single kick and Richard let himself into the room to make sure Magneto was dead, the girl already forgotten. He loaded another bullet into the chamber and pointed the gun directly into the hat and reached to pull it aside. Richard pulled the hat aside and put the gun against the forehead and stopped himself from pulling the trigger once he saw the face....

Chapter 5

Only once before did Richard ever have a dream about an assasination, but this was the first time he ever had a nightmare about one. The images faded into the fog that comes with waking up from a dream and within minutes Richard couldn't remember the face that scared him into waking up. He was never a man to believe in prophetic powers from dreams, but admitted to himself that dreams were some voice deep inside your mind that surfaced in your sleep because you couldn't, or wouldn't, hear them when your awake. In the case of nightmares, the voices come screaming from the darkest depths with messages about ill times or omens and shit like that.

Richard sat up in his bed and shivered for what seemed to him like hours. He finally swung his legs over and stumbled to the bathroom to wash the sweat off his face, and take a much needed piss. The cold water snapped him out of his post apocolyptic dream trance and Richard got a good look at his own face. "Old man, you look like pure shit." he muttered to himself. He looked back down an ant crawled over the faucet. Richard decided that today he'd finally get those ant traps he'd been promising himself.

"Don't worry, I'll have a special meal for you little fuckers. I thought I'd be lenient, but none of you have come up with your share of the rent so it's time you got out."

Richard flicked the light off and climbed back into bed. It had occured to him more than once that talking to himself (or even to ants in the bathroom) might be seen as a sign of insanity, probably from living by himself for the past year, and not getting laid since.... hell he couldn't remember if he had even been with a woman in the last two years. Don't get thinking about sex, plenty of time for that when you own an island somewhere. Besides, your only insane if you start responding to yourself.

He laid his head down on the pillow and wondered if he just responded to himself, but decided to drop it. Besides, your only obsessive if you're obsessed about how you act when your alone and have time to worry about your own obsessions.

The next thirty minutes were fitful and didn't yeild a moment where Richard even thought he could sleep again. He turned on the lamp in his bedroom/livingroom/kitchen and decided to write that night's rest off. He set a kettle to boil and went to get a paper.

The sun was just starting to rise and the sky had a pretty hint of pink, but all the real good colors were blocked off by the city line. Richard quickly dashed across the street barefoot and put the coins into the vender. He grabbed a paper out and ran back to the warm floors of his house. Once he climbed down into his basement suite and locked the door behind him he clicked on the radio in time to catch the beginning of the morning news.

"In an astronomically quick decision by the judge of the Supreme Court, Eric Lensherr was found guilty yesterday and sentenced to twenty years in a secret maximum security facility for the attempted assasination of the more than fifty world leaders on Ellis Island, and the second degree murder of eight police officers on Liberty Island at last week's World Leader Conference. Charges are still pending regarding the destruction of a train and over fifty-thousand dollars worth of damage to the train station itself. Police are still on the look out for two other mutants who have not yet been identified in regards to the train station incident. Police urge the public to keep away from these two if they are seen as they are considered extremely dangerous. No identity has been placed on the other faction who defeated Eric Lensherr and no one has tried to claim credit for his defeat. There is speculation that this mysterious group was involved in the train station incident and may have been responsible for the death of a four year old boy who was crushed to death by debris when the roof was blown off by what is currently being labeled as an unknown energy discharge from the eyes of a mutant. Any information is being called for, and there is a three thousand dollar reward for information leading to the aprehension of the two mutants seen with Lensherr..."

Twenty years at a secret facility? Richard knew it was going to be hard to get to Magneto, but this would be really hard. If only he could find out who judged the trial, or who Magneto's lawyer had been. Neither of them would be bribed, though, being a defence lawyer for mutants paid an obscene amount of cash so information couldn't be bought from the lawyer, and the judge of the Supreme Court of America? Might as well try to talk the President into publicly announcing a UFO was being held in Roswell and was going to be donated to a museum for public viewing. So how is one to find this information? The prosecution? No way, they're all too well paid and disciplined to give out information like that. Nemesis's second Email said Magneto was going to be held in a secret military facility.

How the hell would they get him to court? He is probably the most dangerous mutant ever made so public, maybe even in all of America. Anything made of metal could be used to disatrous effect. It wouldn't take much for Eric to rip a bolt from the judges desk and plunge it into his heart, or rip the guns from every officer in the room. Something isn't adding up here. And how did Nemesis know a week in advance how the trial would turn out and how Eric was going to be held, but not where? Again, Richard was beginning to feel overwhelmed at how much planning he was going to need to pull this off. It was already one week down from six months. The only reason Richard waited so long was that he had a feeling the trial would be over soon and if it told him where Eric was going to be held it could save him alot of time. Well, time was wasting, and it was time Richard got ahold of the supplier.

Getting in touch with 'the supplier' is not an easy task. First one has to phone his pager and leave a constantly changing password that was only given to special employers who in turn gave it to special employees. This month Richard told the pager, "I'm making chicken tonight and was wondering if you wanted to join me for dinner. Call me.". And then, the supplier would get ahold of you since the special employer would give the supplier the information he needed to get ahold of the special employee for chicken dinner. Richard made that call at nine in the morning. Now all he had to do was to go shopping, and stop by the police station. After all, he had a few ants to pay respect too.


Richard popped the hatch of his chevette up and a young boy loaded the bags into the back of the car. Customer service is the most important aspect in any business, Richard understood that, and he was pleased the grocery chain understood that too. Hauling all the bags out to his car was never his favorite part of shopping and was pleased this service was provided for him.

"How long have you been working here, son?" As a boy Richard had never liked it when old men called him 'son'. It always felt patronizing. Therefore, Richard swore to himself that he would never be a patronizing old man, hell he was never going to be an old man. But after a few summers and drunk nights, one wakes up in his apartment a forty six year old man paying four hundred dollars a month to rent a bachelor basement suite from a senile old woman, and with over ten million dollars just deposited into the bank. And now he was calling this boy 'son'.

"Just a couple months mister Freyes. My uncle owns the store, that's why they hired me so young I guess."

"What's your name?"

"Bobby. Bobby Meyers."

"Just like the weiner?" Richard laughed and Bobby gave a polite little laugh and looked around. It struck Richard he really wasn't funny and Bobby wasn't fooling anyone in that he wanted to be gone from this crazy old? man.

"Well, you tell your uncle your the best damned employee he has. Here." Richard slipped a twenty dollar bill out to Bobby and that look of escape left the boys eyes.

"Shit man, you don't have to give that to me, I'm just doin' my job." Yeah right, you're looking at that money like you were staring at Michelle the cashier's breasts less than ten minutes ago.

"Don't worry about it Bob. Take the cash and buy Michelle a flower or something."

The kid's eyes flashed up to Richard's face with bewilderment and red was already creeping into his cheeks. Bobby slipped the bill into his pocket and muttered a quiet thanks and quickly sauntered back to the market.

Richard liked making friends like Bobby there. It was at a grocery store where Richard met Stephen Lauren five years ago. They bumped into each other in the soup isle and Stephen dropped his speghetti sauce. Well, the manager was feeling pissy that day and insisted that Stephen paid for the broken sauce even though Steve had been in the process of returning it to the shelf. Well Richard has a few pet peeves which he tends to stomp out without second thought, and poor customer service is one of them. Richard presented a masterful lecture on proper customer service and the manager quickly apologized and gave Stephen a new jar of speghetti for his troubles (Even though the lecture consisted of how a pussy starved little shit managed to suck cock all the way to his life goal of running a grocery store so he could ass fuck customers whenever his period was late). Well, the rest is history, and now Mr. Lauren worked with the New York state police as a special investigator in the mutant crime devision. It's important to remember that the little kindnesses in the world paid off in time.

The Chevette started with a quiet purr, just because Richard wanted to look poor by driving a rusted microcar didn't mean he couldn't keep the guts in pristine order. Someone thumped on the passenger window and Richard hit his head on the ceiling of his car from the shock. It was Michelle the cashier and she was holding up something to the window. She was shouting at him, but he couldn't quite hear what she was saying. It sounded something along the lines of "Hey, Mister, No Men Allowed."

Richard's mouth hung open and he found he was unable to say anything. He stared at the girl and forced his mind to reenter his head. She was holding a wallet against the window. Richard leaned over and rolled the window down.

"What did you say?"

"You forgot your wallet. I was afraid I wouldn't catch you Mister."

"Oh, thanks. Sorry, I'm a little tired, I didn't sleep well last night."

"No problem. Hey, have a good one."

"Yeah thanks."

Richard drove out of the parking lot feeling more uncomfortable, the dream coming back to him. Never before had he ever tripped out of his mind so much as he just did, and that wasn't something Richard wanted to experience. He just sat and let his car idle in it's spot long after Michelle had left and thought about what he should do. He really wanted to go home and pour a glass of whiskey, but that urge was thankfully brief. It was time to go see Stephen, he would know where Magneto was being held. Then, he would give the ants in his bathroom a dinner they weren't likely to forget.


"He's in a top secret military facility under the Nevada desert. I was shown it before Magneto took up residence there."

Stephen Lauren sifted through the pictures spread across the table. He then found what he was looking for and handed it to Richard.

"This is what Magneto is being held in. It's made completely out of a classified synthetic material and suspended by four chords of a similar material one hundred feet away from any surface. There is not a single piece of metal within one hundred feet of the cell. It connects with the rest of the world via a retractable plastic tube."

Richard was looking at the glossy with growing admiration.

"Why do they even have this thing? Wait, don't tell me. They built it because with the wide variety of mutants in the world, there might be a chance that they'd have to arrest one who's a walking bomb when he's within reach of any metal."

Richard knew he wasn't that witty with jokes, but he knew that Stephen had no sense of humour to bother speaking of, so he wasn't all that self concious about cracking some bad ones. Stephen took no notice of Richard attempt and just continued talking as if it were a legitimate statement.

"Actually, it was a virus containment unit."

"What? You're fucking with me right?"

Stephen did smile at that, "Don't be so surprised. Of course, officially I don't know anything. But it's just like in that guy Stephen King's book about the end of the world, there are black projects out the asshole of the White House that would incite a riot across the country if people knew for sure. And right now, making germs seems to be their new hobby."

"Holy shit man, that's nuts." And Richard meant every word of it. His fascination with what he was hearing was doing it's part in puffing up Stephen, and the cop's chest rose just a bit at how well he was able to capture Richard's attention.

"Get this, not only is the entire suspended cell completely synthetic, but the air itself doesn't get refreshed. There's a recycler that sucks in air, replenishes the oxygen and spits it out again on the other side of the room."
By this point, Richard had run out of statements of amazement and wonder and just contented himself to nodding with wide eyes.

"And this is the kicker. They can superheat the room to over one thousand degrees within thirty seconds. Just..."

"Just in case the virus happened to break out." Both of them shared a moment of silence in homage to what they were looking at on the table.

"What did they do with the viruses then if they're dropping Eric to rot in there? I somehow don't expect they would've just put a padlock on the cabinet."

"No, conveniently enough they had just finished a second facility just like it. I don't know where that one is but they had to work like hell to get everything transferred before the trial ended. I hear that judgement was put on hold for two days while all that shit was moved."

Richard leaned back in his chair and tossed the picture back on the table. It was now time to see if this informant was going to tell him what he really needed to know, or if these last two hours were just a cruel taunt that would leave him searching blindly for what he needed to know.

"Can you tell me how to get there?"

"Why are you so interested in Eric?" Stephen shot back, and Richard's stomach sunk with dissapointment. He wasn't going to get to Magneto's jail, not by Stephen. If it were left up to Richard to do on his own, it would probably take over a month to find it through other information. It was just a pure fluke that Stephen happened to investigate Eric's involvement at the train station.

"Come on Stephen, you know the rules of the game. You're getting well paid for all this and you're not allowed to ask."

"Yeah yeah, I know. But I just don't see any real reason why anyone would be looking for Eric now. I mean, he's locked away and anyone with half a brain knows that no mutant has successfully gotten parole yet, let alone getting out early on good behavior. What else could anyone want? Aside from killing him?"

Richard's guts just did a triple backflip and he felt his heart skip a beat.

"He owe's me money on the Superbowl." This was going nowhere. The longer Richard stuck around, the more questions he'd have to divert.

"Alright, I understand." Stephen conceded. Richard stood up getting ready to leave when Stephen spoke up again, "Listen. I'm going to see Magneto in five days. I'm hoping to question him about his two friends. He won't give up anything, I already know that, but I have to try. I can bring you along if you want. You won't be able to come in the cell with me, but you'll at least see first hand what I've been telling you about."

God bless spaghetti sauce.

Chapter 6

A flashing light told Richard that a message was waiting for him as soon as he stepped into the house that evening. He put his bags down and pushed play hoping it was the supplier. All that was repeated back was a phone number read off of a computerized voice. No greeting or farewell, just the phone number.

It was the supplier. And the phone number was different from the initial contact number. Well, the message was left only twenty minutes ago, and Richard had an hour to get ahold of him. Richard quickly put away his groceries then sat down at the phone with a notebook and a pen to make the call.

Only once before had Richard ever dealt with the supplier. The supplier doesn't listen to what you have to say, in fact you didn't even get to speak to him live. You were given a recording that told you when and where to meet him. The recording only played once then it deleted itself, therefore it was important to write down what was said. Nemesis had also given Richard strict warning against recording the conversation, "He has a way to tell when he's being recorded. I don't know how he does it, but... One of my men had disregarded my warning and recorded his call just so he could make sure he didn't miss any information. Well, his head was found two months after he dissapeared." Richard had no intention of ever needing to be found.

The recording on the other end of the call told Richard that his presence was required at the Taj Mahal on the corner of thirty second avenue and thirteenth street. Richard knew exactly where that was. Richard found out he was to meet at 2100 hours, shit, that was only twenty three minutes from now! Richard quickly ran out of the house and didn't realize he had forgotten to lock up.


The white chevette slipped into an open spot right in front of the restaurant on the street and Richard gave a quiet thanks for the small blessings. He risked a glance at his watch, 8:57. Right under the wire.

The Taj Mahal was a dimly lit restaurant and Richard thought, not for the first time about this particular establishment, that it was purpously designed for shadey dealings. The layout was long, therefore no tables were in a middle dining area, but segmented off in a booth against a wall. Richard told the waiter at the front counter he was meeting a friend and quickly scanned the tables.

"Ah, John, I'm over here."

Richard instinctively looked at the man who called out his alias for such dealings and saw a short man with a bulbous nose and wire rim glasses that made him look like a banker from one of those old western movies. Richard almost expected one of those bowler hats to be sitting as prim as can be on the table, but of course there was just a wine list which the man was looking at.

In the quiet murmer of the restaurant, Richard didn't worry about being spotted. He wasn't worried about being tailed by anyone (and being followed by anyone was an unlikely prospect thus far, Richard was always very careful.), and knew that the supplier couldn't have been followed by anyone. It was a legend among those that knew of the supplier that when on official business he would have a dozen different drivers cruising the city in contact with each other and after less than two blocks the supplier would jump cars in the middle of intersections and even while in motion (everyone was always awed by these facts though no one would ever claim to have seen any of these things done.). Whether that was true or not didn't matter, all that was required was the safety that the supplier could not be tracked.

"It's good to see you Larry, how've you been holding up you ol' dog?" Richard greeted the supplier in a rather raccous manner and shook his hand. They exchanged a few pleasantries and ordered dinner. 'Larry's demeaner changed instantly and Richard knew that it was time for business.

"I'll be honest with you, I know who your current mark is, and for the first time in my life, I don't see any real way you can pull it off."

"Well, the big guy believes I can so there must be a way."

"I'm sure you can figure out how to get him, but how to get TO him is going to be the tough part. I mean, even if you know where he is, it's not like you can get any hardware to him, and I don't think they're going to be letting him out for mornings jogs for the next little while."

"No safe is impregnable. Besides, I can't afford to think of impossibilities. I'm getting paid too much."

Larry laughed, "True enough. Do you know what you want already?"

"Well, I have an idea of what I want, but I don't know what the hardware is exactly called."

"Well, shoot. I'll tell you if I got it or not."

Richard smiled thinking, fuck you, you have abso-fucking-lutely everything. "First of all, I'm going to need a completely synthetic rifle and bullets."

Larry just looked at Richard without allowing his face to seep any thoughts or emotions and Richard had no choice but to continue talking, "I also need a complete stealth suit with no metal in it at all. The belt strap has to be plastic. I also need dark vision goggles. The sonar won't help me this time because I'll need to see textures. The goggles can't be made of any substance that can be manipulated by magnetic fields either."

"Fuck me. You realize that all this will cost a fortune, assuming I can even get some of this shit."

"We'll worry about the price when we get to that. And I know you can get all that. You have fancier toys than that."

"You're right, I can get all of that, but I don't know if it's possible to have all that and be plastic, man. Let's look at the rifle for instance, not as hard as the goggles to make synthetic but still going to be damn improbable. Even if I can get a plastic for the barrel that can take the heat and pressure, I don't see that I can make the firing pin or even the bullet casing out of plastic."

Richard knew that this wasn't just a ploy for more money, Larry meant what he was saying. "Listen, I know you'll do your best so I'll trust your capable hands to do what they can. Even if you can't do it synthetic, at least find an alloy that responds minimally to magnets."

"Of course, you can trust me to find you the best that's out there. I'm just worried one of my better customers is going to be taken out on a fool's run. That guy is dangerous, not to mention all the other guys that are gaurding THAT guy."

"I know, but I'm a dedicated man. But just between you and me, I don't think even they will be able to keep him in their plastic prison forever."

Larry laughed heartily at what might be the only real good joke he would ever hear from Mr. Freyes. As it turned out, it was.