Empathy

by Drake Roberts

UPDATED! The new courier for the Daily Bugle has more connections than Spiderman realizes. The FoH gets involved, an X-Man comes to the rescue, and an enemy learns a valuable lesson. But that's just the beginning! Stars half the Marvel universe.

2. The plot thickens. . .

Empathy

Part Two

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Unfortunately, these characters aren't mine. They're Marvel's. I hope they appreciate what they have. Allison Stills and Isabella Perry are mine however, and I do appreciate them. Very much. Also, forget about any sort of continuity in this story. Just hold on for the ride. It's gets bumpy, and complicated. But, don't worry, it gets even more complicated in the next part I'm working on, due out sometime before the beginning of the next millennium. Please forgive my many mistakes, and send any comments, or questions to arrogantworms@hotmail.com. Flames will be used to heat my frigid dorm room.

Another note:

#This is a telepathic communication. Please notice the number signs at the beginning and end of it.#

Everything else should be self explanatory. But I could be wrong. On with the story!

Two weeks later. . .

New York City's harbor thrummed with constant activity by day, but at night the only sound was sea water crashing into the piers and rats scavenging for food. A suited man carrying a briefcase strode into a seemingly abandoned warehouse. The place gave him the creeps. The man pushed a small pile of straw aside with his shoe and surveyed the room in distaste.

"I can't believe I'm meeting here," he mumbled.

"Why is that, my good sir?"

The suited man jumped raising a cloud of dust. "Geez," he yelped clutching his chest, "you nearly gave me a heart attack, lady!"

"Please, Nelson. You're still a young man," she contradicted, "and in the future, refer to me as Ms. Stills. It's much more professional that way."

Nelson nodded stiffly and set his briefcase on a rickety crate. "Why are we meeting here, anyway?"

"For the atmosphere, of course." Ms. Stills remarked. "People don't trade illegal information at Starbuck's."

"Ah, now I see," Nelson said. "You're insane."

Stills laughed, a chilling cackle that made Nelson's insides freeze. This lady personified insanity. Needless to say, she made his skin crawl. How could anyone so heartstoppingly beautiful act so coldly?

"Now let's get down to business. Do you have the information I requested?"

"Yeah, sure. The presidential agenda and X-men bios, at least everything I could dig up about them, are in this briefcase. Those X-guys are hard to track down!"

"Did you think it would be easy?" Ms. Stills asked smiling insincerely. She slid the briefcase over in front of her and ruffled through its contents. As she scanned the documents, the smile on her face got wider and wider.

"Mutagenic signatures, Potential Destructive Estimations, Known Allies, and Last sightings. . . Wait a second, some of these sightings are years old. And there are no real names or extended family members. How am I supposed to draw the X-Men into the open without proper information?"

"You have their mutagenic signatures. It took me weeks to find what little information I found. You think that big time outlaws like the X-Men would just lie down their records and say 'Come get me?' These guys are not stupid. They know how to disappear."

"What you say makes sense, Nelson, for once. I guess this information is adequate. A few of these leads may prove useful. And the presidential agenda is impeccable. Good job." She buried her head back into the files, chuckling when she found something interesting.

"What gets me," Nelson commented, "is why you didn't just get all this information from your boss."

"He may loathe mutants as much as I do, but he plays by the book. He wouldn't disclose sensitive information like this to anyone lower than him," she informed him bitterly. "Speaking of which, there's one rule about illegal exchanges you forgot."

"What's that?"

"Always make sure you and your contact are alone."

Nelson never saw the man with the pipe coming. Ms. Stills slid back a few steps so he wouldn't land on her new shoes. Two dark suited men picked him up under the arms.

"Take him to the basement. I'm sure we can find some use for him. Then I want you to evaluate these bios. Selection will begin immediately."

* * * * *

Bobby Drake walked down the sidewalk, a grocery bag in each arm. He smiled and started whistling offkey as he headed toward home. His mother was cooking his father's favorite tonight, so she had sent him to get the necessary supplies. The sun shone down, reflecting heat off the ground in minuscule waves that few people other than him could see and warming the street level just enough for Bobby to feel really comfortable. Life was good. Today, Hank told him he would be in New York City to speak at some school in a week, and had promised to stop by for a visit. He had not seen the furball in a while, and had missed the big guy's company. It would be good to see him again. Still whistling, he turned down the sidestreet leading to his house.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" a voice called from behind him.

Bobby stopped walking. He knew what that tone of voice implied. "I don't want any trouble. . ." He started walking toward home again, slowly.

"That's just too bad," the voice said, mocking him. "Because you started causing trouble the moment you were born, mutie!"

With surprising speed, the man grabbed Bobby from behind. Bobby quickly threw him over his shoulder and into the garbage cans in the driveway across the street. The man, only a boy actually, Bobby realized with a shock, shook his head to clear it. When he lifted his head again, he stared at Bobby with a look of such unmasked hatred that Bobby stopped short of attacking him in return.

"What do you want?" Bobby asked confused and angry. "What have I ever done to you?"

The boy struggled to escape the Rubbermaid prison he'd found himself in for a few more seconds, then shrugged, still caught in the heap of garbage. "Don't worry mutie, you'll be paying for it soon enough."

A sudden jolt in his back caused him to jerk upright. Electrical current rippled through his synapses, paralyzing his muscles. The shock abruptly ended and Bobby fell to his knees, and onto the grocery bags. "Damn," he thought groggily. "I should have seen that other guy coming."

He struggled to stand, but a swift kick to his abdomen sent him back to the street. Bobby lashed out blindly, knocking one of the men off his feet. The man swore savagely and kicked him in the jaw, sending Bobby sprawling. "No more fun and games, freak." Something slammed into the back of Bobby's skull and he felt no more.

The large man with the tire iron held a hand out to the boy still struggling to escape the trashcans. The boy took it gratefully and was hoisted to his feet.

"Stupid mutie scum!" He immediately raced over to the fallen mutant, and proceded to kick his ribcage repeatedly.

The larger man grabbed the young man's shoulder. "Easy, kid. We were ordered to bring him in with as little confrontation as possible." The man took a walkie talkie out of his coat pocket. "We got him, boss. Piece of cake, he never saw us coming. Should we go after some more while we're out?"

The walkie talkie crackled and spat static. "No. Inject the specimen and bring him to home base. Did he have any identificdation on him?"

The boy stood up and took out his walkie talkie. "I just checked, nothing. No driver's license, credit cards, dude wasn't even carrying a wallet on him."

"Then, by all means, take a snapshot," she ordered.

"Uhh."

"What is it, Murray?"

". . . . . I forgot the camera."

Murray and the younger man both ducked their heads, scanning the area for snipers poised to end their miserable existences. When nothing happened, they then braced themselves for the barrage of swearing and scolding to come. Surprisingly, though, it never did.

The two heard their boss laugh over the static of the walkie talkie. "Then I guess we will have to do this the hard way. Don't forget to plant the evidence. Hurry back now. The suspense is killing me!"

* * * * *

Ms. Drake trudged up the stairs toward the bedroom where her only son had been staying ever since the incident. Incident. Everyone she'd met in town had called it that. She'd heard that particular phrase so many times concerning her husband that she'd even begun referring to it that way in her own mind. No one ever wanted to mention the fact that the Friends of Humanity had nearly killed a "normal" man just for exercising his right to free speech. It didn't fit with their thoughts on the group. So it was just "that incident your husband was in a while back." She had been so happy when Bobby had decided to stay while William recovered. They got along so much better now, and it had certainly kept her sane. He was always willing to help out around the house, and run errands.

She had sent him to the market hours ago; surely he should have gotten back by now. Maybe he had come in via the second story window. Over the years, it had become his favorite entranceway, especially when he wanted to frighten his parents out of their wits. Her son had always been a joker.

When she reached the doorway, she was surprised to see it missing her son. Two bags of groceries sat in the middle of the bed, with a note placed in front of them. Curious, she picked up the paper and began to read.

Sorry to barge out this way, but it's time I returned to the X-Men. They are a part of my life and my family. Whether they want me or not, I'm going home. I know you both will understand. I'll stay in touch.

Bobby's mom smiled sadly. She knew he had been restless over the last couple of weeks and that he would eventually go back to the X-Men. But, he had just got here. Tears welled up in her eyes, unbidden and she chided herself. He would be back, she reassured herself. He always was.

* * * * *

Iceman woke to darkness and confinement. His mouth was dry and tasted musty, his arms throbbed from where they had been pulled behind his back and tied too tightly. The bumpy movement all around him told him he was lying in a vehicle, but that was not what worried him the most. His head was fuzzy and his thoughts unclear, much more than they should be from just a blow to the head. Moreover, his entire body felt heavy and tingly, almost like a limb you sleep on too long. Something was wrong with him, but Iceman's muddled mind could not piece the clues together.

The vehicle came to a sudden halt, causing Iceman's stomach to heave in protest. He feigned helplessness as he was lifted out of the vehicle and dragged toward an unknown destination. He felt the atmosphere grow warmer around him and the air quality change, signaling he had entered a building. He decided to continue faking unconsciousness, at least until he found out who had abducted him.

"So, this is the best you could procure? I was expecting at least Angel. You disappoint me." The person talking walked toward Iceman, her heels clicking on the linoleum tile. "Well, let's dispense with the fanfare and unmask our X-Man!"

When the woman struggled with the cloth covered Iceman's face, he acted quickly, changing to his ice form. It took more concentration than usual, but he hid his face before she got the cloth off his head. He saw a breathtakingly beautiful woman standing face to face with him. She howled with contempt at the sight of his icy face.

"You fools!" she exclaimed. "He was supposed to still be unconscious!"

"That's what you get for calling me second best," Iceman quipped.

The woman gestured to one of the men beside her. Iceman grunted as the man's fist connected with his chin. "Get the collar," she ordered.

Iceman was still having trouble concentrating on his surroundings, but at the mention of a collar he forced himself to focus. The same man who had just struck him a moment ago brought out an inhibitor collar. Iceman knew if the man got that thing on him, the game was over. He concentrated on the collar, lowering the temperature inside its casing.

Everyone in the room jumped when the collar exploded into tiny shards of freezed dried silicon and plastic. The man swore and grabbed the hand he had been holding the collar with, trying to slow the flow of blood from a long gash on his palm. Iceman's head swam as energy drained from him. What was wrong with him?

The mysterious woman just laughed. The other men around her tended to the injured guard. "So, the boy has claws? More the better for me." the woman said with pleasure in her voice. "Load him into the tank." Before Iceman could recover, the men holding him threw him into another enclosure. Iceman stood and placed his hands on the glass which held him in. It formed a cylinder around him with a metal top and bottom. The woman came up to the glass.

"I'll do this by the books. Who are you? Who do you work for?"

Iceman forced down his nausea and smiled. "I thought that was obvious. My name's Frosty. I build igloos for disadvantaged Eskimos. I also do parties."

The woman's lips curled into a twisted sort of smile. "I know your type. Arrogant, vile, and, in the end despicable cowards. You start out defiant and witty, but end up begging for your pathetic life." She smiled again. "Or, a quick death. Think you'll beat me? Don't worry, you'll change your mind."

Iceman ignored his swimming head and the alarming decrease of moisture inside the "tank" as the woman had so poetically put it. "Give it your best shot, lady," he replied.

* * * * *

Part Three

One Week Later. . .

Massachusetts Academy

"Yes, I see," Ms. Frost purred into the phone. "I would be delighted to participate. Nothing pleases me more than making an impact on today's youth." She looked over at Angelo Espinosa, a.k.a. Skin as he slipped into her office. "They are our future, after all."

Emma gently placed the receiver back in its holder. She sat with her chair back facing Skin until she sensed him become uncomfortable.

"Um, Ms. Frost?" he ventured hesitantly. "Was there a reason you called me to your office?" He smiled wryly. "'Cause if there's no problem, I can get back to my Calculus test. . ."

"Do you have plans for next week?" she asked suddenly.

"Scuse me, mujer?" he asked, confused. "You should know I have nowhere to go. All of my family, minus one cousin, think I'm dead. I can't just show up in the middle of the barrio." Angelo paused, feeling slightly annoyed. True, he could have asked Ev to take him to St. Louis, but he figured his family wanted to spend some quality time with him while he was back from school. Angelo always seemed to get in the way of quality time.

Ms. Frost smiled. "That's what I thought. How would you like to accompany me to New York? I have to give a speech concerning women's roles in modern society. It's not the most exciting excursion in the world, but it does beat staying in Massachusetts.

Angelo thought the proposal over. Almost everyone else had found a way to escape. Jubilee was going to the X-Mansion to spend the week with Wolverine. Paige was returning to her family in Kentucky with Jono in tow. Even Leech and Artie were going to spend the week with Franklin Richards. Only Monet and Penance would be left behind with Banshee over the break, and staying alone with Monet wasn't that appealing. Ever since the twins had switched bodies with Penance and the real Monet had surfaced, Skin had begun to feel slightly uncomfortable around the Algerian girl. Not that he'd been too secure around her before.

"Why me?" he asked Ms. Frost. "You could take Monet. I'm sure she would enjoy New York. The two of you could go shopping, see Cats, do some kind of female girly-bonding thing."

"Monet needs to stay here," Emma told him. "There are things she needs to sort out with her sisters that can only be accomplished while no prying eyes are lurking about." She smiled at him. "Besides, I need an escort."

Skin almost fell out of the chair he was sitting in, "An escort? Emma Frost, la senora de mucho dinero, wants me, Angelo Espinosa of East L.A. to escort her to a public function in New York City? Are you loco?"

"No, Angelo," Emma assured. "I just believe you might enjoy the cultural exposure. And it's not a request, Mr. Espinosa. Think of it as a field trip."

Skin smiled. "Alright, if you want this hombre to go with you, then I won't object. When do we leave?"

"You have ten minutes to pack."

* * * * *

Peter Parker sat arranging beakers and test tubes in one of Empire State University's many science laboratories. He frowned as he realized he had forgotten the Bunsen burner and walked into the storage closet in search of one. After a few minutes, he found the item and exited the closet, closing the door. Peter turned around and nearly jumped to the ceiling.

"Did I surprise you?" Izzy asked.

"Actually, yeah," he replied with disbelief. "No one's been able to do that in a long time. You'll have to give me your secret." Peter had to admit, Izzy had an uncanny way of sneaking up on people without getting noticed. She did it to everyone at the Bugle on a regular basis. Escaping his special abilities took skill; he was impressed.

"I cannot reveal tricks of the trade," Izzy replied. "but I can tell you about the weird looks I got from my chemistry teacher when I asked her to order these chemicals for me. What do you plan to do with this stuff?"

"A guy's got to make his webbing," he explained.

"Why don't you just make it at home? Why all the cloak and dagger?" she pressed.

Peter tried to ignore her question, but by the stubborn look on her face he knew he would not get off that easy. Oh, well. Someone had to know, and Izzy had proven a faithful, if nosy, confidant. "MJ doesn't quite know that I put the mask back on yet."

Izzy grimaced. "I see. So, she thinks that your new job is the only job you have right now?"

"Yeah, and it's going to stay that way, right?"

"Of course, Pete," Izzy assured him. "With all the stuff you know about me, I wouldn't even dream of blabbing anything. You can use me as an alibi anytime you want, just be sure to tell me if by some freak chance me and MJ cross paths."

"Thanks," Peter said smiling.

Izzy looked at him critically. "Mary Jane's no dummy, though. She's going to figure this out sooner or later. I think she'd take it better if you came clean than if she caught you sneaking in the window at two in the morning."

Peter sighed. "I know. I'll tell her, but now isn't the right time."

They let the conversation drop. Izzy sat beside Peter helping him mix up chemicals. She thought about how many things in her life had changed in the last three weeks. A month ago, if someone had told her she'd be on a first name basis with a superhero, she would have laughed out loud. If someone would have said she was going to meet two X-Men, she would have questioned their sanity. But, both those things had happened, all in a day for that matter. One occurrence that night had far surpassed the others, though. Her uncle, Henry Peter Gyrich, had come face to face with a mutant and not totally lost it. She couldn't remember much from that night, Iceman's strong arms, her uncle's angry and concerned voice, but what stuck out most in her mind was the feeling of understanding that prevailed. No shots had been fired, no tempers had flared. She wished she had that kind of stability in her life. Something had been nagging at her for over a week, but she couldn't figure out what.

"Hey, Pete," she said breaking the silence. "I was wondering, did you ever get that funny feeling out of your head?"

Peter looked over at her. "No," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Cause I think it's spreading. I've been restless for the last week. Something isn't sitting right with the city or something. People are acting weird."

"You sure it isn't just your uncle Henry?"

Uncle Henry had been acting weird lately. Most of the time he behaved in his usual manner, but every once in a while she caught him with a troubled expression on his face. He asked her what was going on in her life more, which was good, but he seemed to be battling with something on the inside. Late one night, she had went into the living room of his hotel room turned apartment and discovered him watching old footage of a group of mutants engaging Magneto at a nuclear base. It hurt Izzy to see her uncle troubled, but she figured he had to get through this on his own.

"No, it's everyone else too. Well, not everyone, but more people than usual. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"More than you know," he answered. The city seemed nervous, he thought. The fact that Izzy had caught onto the change reassured him he wasn't going crazy. The air itself seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Maybe it was because the president was visiting next week. People always became anxious when something important happened, and nervous people sent off weird signals. That might explain the almost spidersense he had been feeling.

"Oh," Izzy got up from the lab table and headed for the door, "while I'm thinking about it, Thursday there's a special assembly at my school. You might want to check it out. I'm kinda the head of the planning committee. Jameson might like some pictures. There are some important speakers coming. They'll be standing still, so even you can get in focus pictures of them!"

Peter threw a wad of freshly made webbing at her as she ducked out of sight. "Oh, yeah!" he challenged. "Who would come to something you planned?"

* * * * *

Emma Frost stepped out of the cab and waited for Angelo to join her by the gate. Skin whistled under his breath when he caught sight of the sign.

"McCallister's School For Girls, huh. You should have told me. I would have dressed for the occasion."

Ms. Frost smirked and rang the buzzer. After a few moments an elderly man's voice could be heard from the intercom. "Who goes there?" he screeched.

The headmistress of the Massachusetts Academy dispelled the Wizard of Oz image that came to mind. "Emma Frost of Frost Enterprises," she answered. "I came for the special assembly tomorrow. I was told to ask for a Ms. . . ."

"That would be me," a figure answered beside them. She stuck out her hand to the headmistress. "Isabella Perry, head of the planning committee for Futures Day. Pleased to meet ya, Ms. Frost."

Emma and Angelo gaped at the young woman standing next to them. She wore a pair of old jeans with the left knee torn out and an oversized T-shirt with a big yellow smiley face plastered across it. "It looks like she borrowed a pair of jeans from Gambit and a shirt from Drake," Emma thought with amusement. Her frizzy hair while originally pulled back in a ponytail, now only held back about half of her tousled mop of curls. The other half either framed her face or stuck out at odd angles.

"Sorry about my tardiness," she apologized, pulling at a small patch of sticky gook from her shirt sleeve. "I was helping a friend out with a science project."

"De nada, chica," Angelo replied. "Just as long as you tell us how to get in this place without having to yell at Mr. Belltone in the office.

Izzy laughed, "As long as you don't give away my secrets." She pulled out a thin metal bar and began to methodically pick the lock. After no more than three seconds, the gate swung open. She jiggled the bar around a few more times and led them inside. The gate locked behind them.

"So," she asked the two, "what do you want to do first?"

"Why don't you give us a tour of the school, Isabella?" Ms. Frost suggested.

"Whatever floats your boat," Izzy replied, "and call me Izzy. Only my uncle calls me Isabella." She scratched her hand absently. "One word of advice, though, hombre," she said to Skin, "some of these girls haven't seen a guy in weeks, so watch it."

"Are you among that number?" Angelo asked mischievously.

"Of course not," Izzy replied indignantly. "That's why I learned to pick the lock on the front gate in the first case." She scratched her hand harder. "Damn Pete's chemicals," she muttered under her breath. "Come on, everybody," she ordered. "Let's go."

For the next thirty minutes, Izzy tried to keep Emma and Angelo entertained with trivial facts about McCallister's School for Girls. When that tactic failed, she regressed to telling them embarrassing experiences from her year as a student there. After about fifteen minutes, she and Skin began comparing experiences, each trying to top the others' embarrassing moments.

"You know, I've heard of the Massachusetts Academy," Izzy commented. "Someone told me that Dr. Henry McCoy sometimes gives guest lectures."

"Si, chica," Skin affirmed her statement. Emma shot him a look to melt lead. "That is to say," he stammered.

"You're so lucky!" Izzy exclaimed. "I only got him to come for Futures Day. You get to have him lecture about material from his own field instead of just mutant rights."

"He's coming here to talk about mutant rights?" Emma interrupted, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"Yeah," Izzy answered. "Being the head planner has its advantages. Last semester a bunch of snobs invited a FoH prick to speak, so someone needed to show the right side of the coin. He got here an hour ago."

Emma probbed the girl's mind and found she was telling the truth. So, Dr. McCoy would speak here tomorrow also. And the girl definitely had a great deal of respect for him. In fact, from what she could ascertain, the girl had met him before. Ms. Frost resisted the urge to probe her mind more deeply.

"You know, I met him once," Izzy commented to them softly. "Only for a few minutes though." She sighed regretfully.

Both Emma and Angelo sensed there was more to her story, but being nosy might cause Izzy to ask uncomfortable questions about them. They let the subject drop. After a few tense moments, Skin felt obligated to break the silence.

"So, chica," he began, "what's on the agenda for tonight?"

"Anything you want to do," Izzy answered. Angelo winked. She laughed. "Get your mind out of the gutter, boy!" Angelo didn't fail to notice the slight drawl in her voice. So, the girl was a hayseed. Either that, or one of those strange people who just liked to start rattling off in a different dialect every few sentences. They entered a small guest room. "Well, here's your room, Ms. Frost. I hope it suits you. Angelo, your room is next door, and Dr. McCoy's is two doors down." She turned to Skin. I'll take you, if Ms. Frost doesn't need anything. . . ?"

"No, Isabella," Emma answered formally, "this is quite satisfactory. I believe I will go discuss matters with Dr. McCoy. Thank you." She and Angelo turned to leave. "Oh, and Angelo?" He turned around, groaning inwardly. He'd almost made it out. Emma smiled. "Have fun."

Izzy quickly showed Angelo to his room. Angelo threw his gym bag on the floor and flung himself on the bed. Izzy pulled up a chair beside where he lay. "So," he asked. "What is there to do on this campus?"

Izzy smiled wickedly, wonderful thoughts of mischief and mayhem dancing through her head. Angelo grinned also when he caught on to what she was thinking. "Are you up for a little covert public disturbance?" They both chuckled in anticipation.

* * * * *

Emma Frost tapped on Dr. McCoy's door gently. #Doctor McCoy, I know you are in there. Cease pretending to not hear me.#

The door opened. "I would never dream of ignoring you, Emma," Beast said as he stepped aside to let her through. "To what do I owe the honor of your prescence?"

Ms. Frost pulled out the chair by the desk and seated herself. "So, you came to speak at the McCallister's School for Girls? I thought the only guest lecturing you did was at the Massachusetts Academy."

Dr. McCoy smiled at her jovially. "Young Isabella can even persuade the blue wonder to expand his horizons. Who better to talk about mutant rights? What makes you so curious, Emma?"

"She said she had met you before," Emma explained. "I sensed some past between the two of you, but she protects her thoughts too well for me to intrude without it raising . . . uncomfortable questions. Plus, she and Angelo are roaming around campus as we speak."

"I did meet her, on one occasion," Beast admitted. "It was a rather unforgettable experience. Fret not, Ms. Frost, she poses no threat to you or your students."

"How did the two of you cross paths, anyway?" Emma prodded. "Did you bump into her at the twinkie rack at the Seven Eleven?"

"She asked me to come speak at her school over the twinkie rack, but alas, our first encounter failed to achieve such ambiance." Beast sighed melodramatically before continuing. "Actually we met through a frigid friend you and I mutually possess," Beast said, smiling at Emma's shocked expression. "The young lady came across a bit of calamity, demanding the attention of a certain uncanny passerby. Upon emancipating the damsel in distress, the young hero promptly conveyed her to his humble abode, where I assessed her injuries and introduced myself."

"So," Emma said thoughtfully, "she met you and Iceman?"

"And Spiderman as well, if my memory serves me correctly," Beast added. "Although, from their friendly banter, I suspect she knew him before that night."

"This girl gets more interesting by the minute," Ms. Frost commented. "Tell me more."

"Surely your hectic schedule will not allow time for idle gossip," Beast argued, a grin coming to his lips.

"We are stuck at a boarding school, Henry. What else is there to do?"

"Point well taken, my lady. Let the story begin."

* * * * *

Angelo and Izzy crept through the darkened hallways of McCallister's dorms. Izzy led the way, a giant wrench slung over her shoulder. Angelo brought up the rear, connecting doorknobs with twine as he went.

"You sure no one will notice this until morning?" Angelo asked doubtfully.

"You bet," Izzy assured him. "The patrols have ended for the night. No one will catch us. I can't wait to see these snobs faces when they get stuck in their rooms in the morning." She giggled quietly. "Then when they go to shower. . ." Izzy broke into spasms of muffled laughter.

"Those chicas will be freezing!" Angelo laughed along with her. "What did these girls ever do to you, Izzy?"

"Don't get me started," Izzy scowled. "They are so self absorbed, they have to look down their noses to see Earth!"

"I know the feeling, amiga," Angelo replied. "We better get back before Ms. Frost finds out I'm gone."

Izzy shuddered. "Something tells me she's not a person you want to upset."

Angelo smiled. "You have no idea."

"You know," Angelo continued after a short pause. "If you had invited one of the X-Men to come in full spandex, those chicas might have actually listened to the Mutant Rights speech. Either that or drooled."

They both chuckled softly and headed back toward Angelo's room, careful not to bump into anything, lest they alert someone to their prescence.

"I actually tried to get Iceman to give a speech," Izzy commented.

"Wait a second!" Angelo exclaimed. "You're telling me you have actually met one of the X-Men?" He kept up the pretense that he had no idea who the X-Men were, even though he had met most of them. He didn't want to give anything away, after all.

"It's a long story," Izzy replied. "Remind me to tell you sometime. Let's just say I have connections with people who know how to get in touch with him. While I was talking to my informant one night, I told him about Future's Day and asked if he could ask Iceman if he wanted to give a speech. The guy told me Iceman was off on business. Whatever that means."

"You have an informant?" Angelo asked.

"Well, he's really just a friend, but informant sounds much more spiffy."

He looked at her thoughtfully, but did not answer. He noticed how she had carefully avoided mentioning the man's name who she had called. She would keep his secret, at least the parts that could put someone in danger. He still didn't reveal more than a minimal amount of information on the X-Men. So far, he had not commented on anything that could not be gathered from news reports and a small amount of snooping. However, he did remind himself to tell his headmistress about Bobby's apparent disappearence in due course.

Izzy scratched the top of her hand absently as they crept along. She'd washed it four times since leaving the lab, but if anything, it itched worse than earlier. She figured one of the snobs had snuck some itching powder in her lotion bottle again.

When they got to the corner, Izzy peeked around the wall to make sure neither Ms. Frost or Dr. McCoy were out in the hallway. She breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered no one out and about. Suddenly something darkened the window across from her.

"Um, Angelo?" Izzy stammered. "I think we should duck!"

The figure raised a weapon and shattered the window, along with half the wall. He landed in the hallway followed by five other men, all heavily armored with identical weapons. Izzy and Angelo both sat up coughing and choking on the dust. Beast and Emma Frost charged out of their room to investigate the explosion.

"How nice," one of the armored goons stated. He leveled his energy weapon at Beast's chest. "Now we don't have to search the entire school for you. Now be good and come quietly."

"Fat chance of that!" Izzy slammed the large wrench into the man's skull. "He has a speech to give tomorrow."

Beast sprang forward, knocking two of the men's heads together as he jumped over them. The White Queen punched the closest one to her in the jaw and kneed him in the groin. Two more to go. Beast grabbed another man as he tried to make his escape back out the destroyed window. He slammed him against the wall and lifted him a foot off the ground.

"Who sent you?" he demanded. The man whimpered incomprehensibly, futilely trying to pry Beast's hand from his armor.

The only remaining armored goon came out of hiding. "Your time has ended, mutie scum. We will hunt you all down, no matter what it takes!" The man clubbed Emma, who had been sneaking up behind him while trying to mask herself telepathically. He discharged his energy weapon, dislodging a section of wall the size of a minivan. The projectile ricocheted, missing Beast completely. Skin did not even notice it until it was almost upon him. He felt Izzy grab him frantically and his body stiffened. This was really going to hurt.

* * * * *
Emma groaned and grabbed her temple, trying to dull the throbbing deep in her brain. Cursing under her breath, she wished she had used her powers with less restraint on the armored man. She could not hear any more signs of the battle. All she heard was the sound of the approaching police sirens and scratching. She concentrated on the latter noise. Scratching, grunting, and heaving.

Then she heard a voice, loud and frantic. "Angelo, Izzy, can you hear me?"

At the mention of one of her students, her mind snapped into clarity. She opened her eyes and saw Beast digging through a pile of rubble that enveloped half the hallway. She went over to him as fast as her swimming head would allow.

"Beast?" she asked, a note of panic coming to her voice, "Where are the kids?"

"The rubble from the wall, it collided with the wall where they were standing," Beast explained anxiously. "Do you feel them?"

Emma reached out with her mind and came up empty. No! She refused to believe it! She scanned again, frantically, tears stinging her eyes. For the second time in less than two minutes, Emma wished she had fried that armored bastard's brain beyond recognition. They could not be dead. She had lost one group of students already and she was not about to add to that number.

She came back to her senses as Beast was lifting the last piece of debris from where the wall had collided with Angelo and Izzy.

"They're gone!" Ms. Frost exclaimed with both worry and relief. "Where could they be? How did they get out of here?"

"I haven't a clue," Beast answered. He was baffled, to tell the truth. He had seen the section of wall go toward the two and cried out a warning too late. For all intents and purposes, they should be lying beneath the rubble. He looked over at Emma. "I did not see them escape from the oncoming debris, so we must suspect some other force in their disappearance.

Ms. Frost mulled Beast's theory over in her mind. "Well, if Angelo is able, he knows how to contact me, but assuming someone has abducted them, that might not be the case. We need to find them, as soon as possible."

Beast nodded in agreement. "Indubitably, but we need help." He looked Emma over. "Do you think you can contact young Robert?"

The White Queen smiled and massaged her temple gingerly. "I believe so." Ms. Frost set her mind to work, reaching out for Bobby Drake. Finding his mind was not that difficult a task for her, considering the fact she had inhabited it for a short time after the death of the Hellions. She was loath to admit it, but the fact was, she had enjoyed being there for a short period of time. He possessed both experience and a certain degree of innocence which was rare and slightly disconcerting. His was one of the most unique minds she had ever beheld. His good nature actually soothed her fractured psyche after she learned of her students' deaths. Most of the other minds she'd ever invaded would have used that display of weakness to strike. She searched, looking for that familar jovial aura. What she found when she got there though was not at all what she expected. Violent images flooded her mind. Pain, panic, and hatred hit her like a brick wall. She felt fear too, but not for him. He was afraid they would sense her and find her; he had to get her away! Emma's head snapped back as Bobby forced her to break contact. She felt a supporting hand on her shoulder.

"What happened?" a bewildered Beast asked.

"Bobby. . .something's happening to him. He pushed me away before I could get a chance to focus on his location," Emma mumbled. She was torn. Her student and an innocent girl had just mysteriously vanished. But Bobby was definitely in serious danger. She was drawn to help him as well. He had accepted her role as headmistress of the Massachusetts Academy with more good faith than anyone else.

"We have to find the kids," Beast said. She could sense his inner turmoil. Bobby was his best friend, she knew. She knew he was only a step from dropping everything and searching for him without a second thought as to where to start. She knew this because the same was true of her.

"You said so yourself that you couldn't get a fix on his location," he continued. "Locate the kids, quickly. Then we will find Bobby."

* * * * *

Angelo woke up to a blinding flash of light. "Madre de Dios," he mumbled groggily. "I didn't think the light to Heaven would hurt so much."

"Who are you?" a feminine voice asked forcefully.

Skin shook his head and tried desperately to think straight. He was not dead; he could tell that by the shrill, anxious sound of the woman's voice. The last thing he remembered was a huge chunk of wall barrelling toward him and Izzy. Where was he? Where was Izzy?

"Answer me," the voice continued. "What are you two doing in my house in the middle of the night?"

Angelo opened his eyes, squinting at the flashlight beam in his eyes. Two of us? So Izzy was here with him. Ignoring the woman with the flashlight he turned in search of her. She lay slightly underneath him, covered in a thin layer of dust and appeared to be out cold.

"Is she alright?" the woman asked, a little more gently. She moved the flashlight out of Angelo's eyes and played the beam on Izzy's prone form.

Just then, Angelo heard someone else coming down the steps from the upper floor of the house. The person moved quietly, like they were used to sneaking through dark alleys and quiet buildings. "Have you satisfied your curiousity yet, honey?" Skin could see his legs now, lean, but well muscled. Whenever that guy saw him, he would probably beat him senseless. "Unless it's Venom, we should be safe. . ." The man's voice trailed off as he caught sight of the two intruders.

The woman, his wife Skin guessed, turned toward the man. "Is there something wrong, Peter?" she asked.

"Skin?" the man asked. Skin bristled with anxiety. How does this person know me? Peter ran and flipped on the light switch. Izzy groaned, the first sound Skin had heard her make since they landed in this strange house. Skin took advantage of the brightness to get a better look at this man who knew him. He was of average height, and kind of scrawny looking, even with the wiry muscles. But, something about the way he moved and his voice made him seem familiar.

"You know them, Tiger?" the woman asked. Angelo's heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the sight of the woman with the lights on. She was heartstoppingly beautiful, with long red hair and bright blue eyes. Had it not been for the seriousness of the situation, he might have made a snide comment. As it was, he turned back to Izzy, who had begun to stir.

"Come on, chica," Angelo encouraged her, "snap out of it." He felt her shivering and rubbed her chilled arms to try and circulate some warmth through them.

"Izzy?" Peter came up beside where Skin was still sitting.

"Would someone explain to me what's going on?" the woman asked.

"Si, y mi tambien," Skin agreed.

Izzy moaned. "Angelo, meet Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson-Parker. Mary Jane, this is Angelo." Izzy groaned. "Now someone tell me where this killer headache came from."

Peter and Angelo helped Izzy sit up. "I courier to the Daily Bugle, Mary Jane. I'm Izzy."

Mary Jane smiled slightly and sat down on the bottom step. "Pleased to finally meet you, Izzy." She looked at Peter critically. "Is Angelo a friend of your other persona?"

"Yeah, from a few months back," Peter answered. Skin just sat on the floor looking confused. Izzy smiled at him weakly and patted him on the back.

"If you don't mind, Tiger," Mary Jane interjected. "I'm going back to bed. I have a photo shoot at seven o'clock tomorrow morning."

Peter went over to her and gave her a passionate kiss goodnight. "Don't take too long," she whispered into Peter's ear. He smiled as he watched her walk upstairs, but as soon as the bedroom door shut, he was all business.

"What happened?" he asked Izzy.

"Just who are you anyway, hombre?" Angelo asked.

Peter sighed. He had given his secret identity to more people in the last three weeks than during his first year as the webslinger. He should just print an exclusive in the Daily Bugle and be done with it. Oh, well, he supposed he could trust Skin.

"We met in East LA," he answered, smiling. "Of course, I was wearing the old red and blues back then."

Skin's eyes widened as he realized just whose house he was in and he grinned. "Man, you have a wife like that and you were running around in LA with me and the gang?" It was Izzy's turn to look confused now. What was the connection between Spidey and Angelo? Had Spidey saved him once? She stared down at her hands, trying to figure out how Angelo and Spiderman could ever meet.

"Oh, my god," she said. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

"What?" Angelo and Peter both said alarmed.

"My hands!" she exclaimed. A pale blue light radiated from them, tinging the immediate area with their glow. She held her hands up for Angelo to see. Their glow brightened and her eyes widened.

"Just stay calm, amiga," Skin instructed her soothingly. "Concentrate on making them look like they normally do." Izzy closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Slowly, the glow dimmed. "That's it," he assured her. See, all better now."

Izzy opened her eyes and smiled with relief. "Well, at least it was a nice shade of blue," she mused, still a little shocked.

"Are you alright, Izzy." Spiderman interrupted.

She nodded. "Just a little cold."

So, Izzy was a mutant. Did she know her new friend Skin was a member of Generation X, or did all this constitute the biggest coincidence Spiderman had ever witnessed. "Now tell me, what are you doing here?"

"The school was attacked by these big guys in armor," Izzy answered. "One of them blew up a section of the wall and it was coming right at us, and. . ." She looked puzzled for a minute. "and . . ."

"My guess is the chica teleported us here and saved our asses," Skin finished. He smiled at Izzy's shocked expression.

After a moment, her expression changed into a small grin. She looked down at her hands. "Good timing, guys," she told them.

"But McCallister's is over two miles from my house," Peter argued.

Skin just laughed. "She must be good for a beginner then, eh? We have to get back to the school and make sure Dr. McCoy and Ms. Frost are alright."

#Angelo? Can you hear me!#

Skin winced as Ms. Frost's mental yell drilled into his brain. "Speak of the devil," he mumbled with a groan. #Si, I hear you. Could you keep it down?#

Even though he had no telepathic talent to speak of, he still felt the relief in his headmistress's mental voice as she continued. #Where are you? Is Isabella with you?#

#Yeah, we're okay. We crashed at a friend's house, literally. It seems that Izzy has more connections than I first thought. We'll meet you at the school, okay?#

#You two come back here, McCoy and I must search for Drake. We believe he might have encountered some difficulties and have decided to discern his whereabouts.#

#If Iceman's in trouble then let us help,# Skin argued. #You and Beast can't just go it alone.#

#We can and we will,# Frost argued forcefully. #Go back to the school.#

Skin opened his eyes to see Peter and Izzy looking at him worriedly. "That was Ms. Frost," he explained.

"I'm getting the feeling there's a lot about you and Ms. Frost that I don't know," Izzy commented. "Care to explain?"

Skin's lip quirked in the beginnings of a smile. I can tell by the look on her face; Izzy's starting to figure it all out. She's a pretty smart chica. "Maybe later, amiga. The story is way too long for now. Emma said to go back to the school," he explained with a scowl. "We have to stay there while they check out something with Iceman."

"What about Iceman?" Izzy asked, her face clouded with concern.

"Emma said he was in some kind of trouble," Skin answered. His eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you know him too." This was almost too much. She probably knew more superheroes than he did. Oh, well. That's New York for you, the superhero capital of the world.

"We have to help," Izzy argued.

"I agree, chica. You with us, Spidey?" Skin asked.

"You really should do what Ms. Frost tells you," Peter argued. "It's for your own good."

Izzy frowned. "Et tu, Pete? If you're not with us, you're against us." She grabbed Angelo's hand and disappeared with a giggle.

Peter Parker watched them leave with a frown. Part of him wished he could have went with them, but MJ would definitely find out. He smiled ruefully. Of course the Spidertracer he had snuck onto Izzy's shirt let him keep an eye on them. With a chuckle, he headed upstairs.

* * * * *

Emma opened her eyes and allowed herself a small smile of relief. The kids were safe, though how they escaped the attack at the school remained a mystery. She felt bad about forbidding Angelo to help with the search for Bobby, but she could not put him, or Izzy for that matter, at risk. True, they might need the extra manpower, but. . . she would just have to cross that bridge when she got to it.

"They're alright," she informed Dr. McCoy. "We should get going." She did not need to inform Beast of the necessity for expediency. He was just as anxious as she was about Bobby.

Before they had the time to leave the hallway, a glowing sphere appeared in the air in front of them. It quickly expanded until it stood a few inches taller than Emma and became translucent. She spied two figures huddled in the middle of the ball, clinging to each other tightly. Suddenly the sphere retracted upon itself, being pulled back into Izzy's body. Skin grabbed her around the waist as she slumped over.

"Maybe that wasn't the best idea," she said weakly, trying to regain her balance.

Skin pulled her gently to her feet. "You okay, Izzy?" he asked with concern.

Izzy lifted her head and regarded him seriously for a few moments before giving him a weak grin. "Man, what a rush," she stated.

She straightened slowly and shook her head. "I'll be alright." She looked at the shocked faces of McCoy and the headmistress. "If you thought you could leave us behind, you were wrong!"

Beast opened his mouth to say something, anything in order to get an explanation out of the two teenagers. He stopped short, however. There was no time for stories; they had an X-Man to find.

* * * * *

"Gotta stay focused. Gotta stay. . . frozen!" Allison Stills watched with morbid fascination as the X-Man mumbled to himself. Scientists watched their computer screens as the measurements fluctuated. They wanted the data, but Allison only relished the multitude of suffering she had watched the man endure the last few days. First, they had drugged him so his reflexes would slow enough to put on an inhibitor collar. Unfortunately, he had proven resistant, making it necessary to put him in the tank. Personally, Allison had secretly hoped he would prove difficult to break. She had not been disappointed.

Once in the tank, they had heated the interior to 120 degrees Fahrenheit, expecting him to melt like a popscicle. But he hadn't. The scientists had been astounded. They explained to her about him pulling moisture from the air to keep his ice form and said that he somehow always cooled the air after they heated it. While she had found all of this mildly interesting, it did nothing to achieve her goal. She wanted to know the identity of th man behind the face of ice. She knew she should have just gotten her men to take a picture, but she also had needed someone to use as a test subject for her tank. And, let's face it, this way was more fun.

Next, they had went the opposite route and dropped the temperature to negative twenty. Iceman had surprised the scientists once again by actually making himself larger by gathering moisture from the air. This had started an entire new subject of conversation and plans for other experiments, but this distracted from her goal. She wanted to break him. Then the scientists could do whatever they wanted. If she could prove that her methods producted better results than that prick Gyrich's warped form of justice, she might just get that corner office. Provided, of course that the other parts of her scheme proceded as expected.

What they were doing now delighted her the most. The tank had been heated once again to 100 degrees and made arid. All moisture had been stripped away. The assembled group had been observing him for the last 24 hours. Now his once sheen icy body more closely resembled someone completely covered by frost.

Iceman looked up at Ms. Stills, just noticing that she was standing there, staring at him. "Do you like what you see?" he asked, giving her a cold smile.

"Very much," she answered. "You feeling well, honey? Are you feeling a little warm?"

"Nah," he answered. "I've been wanting to go to a sauna for ages."

"Funny how convincing he is, even though he probably doesn't have the strength to stand," she mused as she walked back toward the computer consoles. Last week, she had believed all mutants were sadistic, yet cowardly creatures. Now, however, she knew that they were stupid as well.

She turned away from the tank and it's lone occupant. "How's he doing?" she asked the nearest scientist.

"As far as I can tell, he should be giving way fairly soon, either voluntarily or by loss of consciousness," the man replied. "While the specimen's temperature still remains far below normal, it has risen substantially since first subjecting him to the tank's adverse conditions. I estimate that if he were in his flesh form, his temperature would be approximately 104 degrees Fahrenheit. His bodily fluids have also been slowly depleting themselves," the man smiled thinly. "He should be succumbing any time now."

"Good," she said with a chuckle.

She turned back to the tank. Iceman lay slumped against the far side of the glass tube, his eyes closed. It wouldn't be much longer now. She wondered what his face looked like under that thin veil of ice. The ice shaped his face into a mask of innocence. She could almost imagine the boyish good looks. With his back to the glass and his eyes closed he looked more like a boy than a man. She shook her head, dispelling the thought. Yes, he did appear several years younger than herself, but it made no difference. Under that veneer, he was a hideous, ruthless creature that needed to be gotten rid of. The devil had many cunning facades.

Iceman sat with his back against the glass concentrating. He had remained in his ice form for nearly a week now, despite his body's protests. He had used the moisture in the air to keep from dehydrating, until they had made the tube arid yesterday. At least, he thought they did that yesterday. Aerosol drugs kept his mind effectively muddled. Bobby had no idea how long he had been imprisoned here. He wished for the millionth time that he could freeze the damn gas and use it for an escape.

Even in his drugged state, he knew he was in trouble. He felt his body resisting his ice form. There just wasn't enough moisture for him to do anything, but something had to happen soon or it would be too late. He calmly searched for precious particles of much needed water. Just beyond the pane of glass, he felt the multitude of moisture, beckoning him like a mirage. He could also see the drastic temperature difference and longed for the cool air. Both had been taunting him for what seemed like an eternity. All he needed to do was break through. He doubted he had the strength, though.

Earlier, he had pushed Emma's probing thoughts away. No need to drag her into this. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing her or anyone else imprisoned in a tank beside him. He wondered idly what his parents were doing right now. Had they contacted the X-Men when they found out he was missing? Were the X-Men searching for him, even now? For some reason, he doubted the X-Men even cared. It knew it had probably been at least a week, after all. With Wolverine's keen senses at the scene and Gambit's skill at breaking and entering, the fortress should have been compromised days ago. But in all this time, the only telepathic communication he had received had been from Emma. He guessed they finally decided to let their second string X-Man handle his own problems.

A pounding on the glass broke his concentration. He knew the woman was taunting him once again. He had come to hate that gloating face over the past few days. "What are you thinking, Popscicle?" she asked. Her voice held none of the jovial taunting that most did when they called him by that name. "Do you seriously believe you still have a chance to escape? I'm disappointed. I thought the last try broke you of that habit."

He remembered that moment. Yesterday, at least he thought it was yesterday, he had discovered the vent which sucked all the moisture from his tank. Reaching with his power, he had captured the tiny particles in hope of shattering the glass surrounding him. The caper did not go as planned. As soon as he pulled the moisture back through the vent, an electric charge ran through his body. An eternity later, when the charge ceased, Bobby had fallen to the ground in agony.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you?" the woman had asked with mock sincerity. "Tampering with the tank produces shocking results." The crazy woman had laughed after that remark, a morbid, cold giggle that made Iceman shudder. "We like to keep our lab rats in line." She had left the room after that, still laughing.

"Why would I care what a bitch like you thought?" Iceman growled through clinched teeth.

"Oh, such language! I'm hurt!" Allison replied. She'd finally gotten him angry.

He could feel his eyelids becoming heavy, and struggled to keep himself awake. He suddenly felt glad he had asked Logan about how he stayed awake for so long at a time if he needed. It was paying off now. Now if only he had a set of claws. Oh, well. No use wishing for things you didn't have. But he did have one advantage with the woman.

"I'm sorry, ma'am; I really am. It's just. . . . well, Ally, I'm beginning to think you don't like my company." he replied with mock sadness.

Stills scowled at this and looked at her scientists accusingly. Somehow this boy had managed to find out her name. He'd used it to taunt her over the last couple of days, chatting with her between his bouts with her machine's climate controls like they were old friend. And he called her Ally. She'd hated that particular nickname since she was a toddler. It upset her to no end, and that bastard knew it. Watching him struggle to remain conscious only began to whet her apetite for the things to come once she found out who was hiding behind all that ice.

Ms. Stills pounded on the glass once again, bringing Iceman back to reality. "Stay awake, Frosty. Stay awake!" The woman smiled and strode around the glass chamber. He was beginning to like this man; he had spirit. Funny, none of the classified files she had received ever mentioned it. It almost made her want to toy with him even longer. But, she was on a timetable. She decided it was time to take away his last thread of hope. "I just thought you would like to know," she commented. "That your friends are next."

Iceman opened his eyes and stared at her intently. "What?" he asked, scarcely believing he'd heard him correctly.

"They'll all be joining you soon," she said with glee. "I have their tanks set up already, specifically designed for their mutagenic signatures." She laughed. "We'll get information on them all. I just thought I would leave you with that thought." The evil woman practically skipped out of the room.

If she had waited to see Iceman's expression, she would not have witnessed the breaking of his will, as she expected. Allison Stills had just made a fatal mistake. She had underestimated her opponent. If only his life came into jeopardy, he might have surrendered, in time. But at the thought of his friends, his family, being subjected to the same, drove him to action. It would not happen; he wouldn't let it.

Allison's face suddenly appeared on a screen on the opposite wall. "Thought I would leave you alone? Not a chance. I want to see you suffer. I want to see that wonderful spirit of yours drain from your body, and savour every moment of it." She looked at the scientists' cubicle. "Go to phase four," she ordered.

The tank started heating up even more and he suddenly became dizzy. She was sucking all the air out of the tank. In less than two minutes, he would be unconscious and his friends would be betrayed. He concentrated desperately on the moisture outside his prison, following its flow. He couldn't find any pathway, not even a small stream came into the tank. Dejected, he slammed his fist into the glass, hoping to crack it. When he lifted his hand, he noticed a smudge on the glass. Water.

He thought of his friends, locked in these tanks. Storm would go ballistic just being inside the closed cylinder. They would definitely exploit her claustrophobia to their advantage. Logan would sooner die than give in to these goons. A look of pure determination came across his face. So would he. Iceman snapped his head up and he met Stills' gaze. Her laughter died in her throat. The look in her prisioner's eyes made her blood run cold. He broke the stare a split second later and closed his eyes.

Iceman reached inside his own body, feeling for the moisture trapped there. He just needed enough to break the glass. His head began to spin as the air got thinner, but still he concentrated, pulling the water from his cells, essentially dehydrating his own body. He fell to his knees, but still he did not open his eyes. He knew the scientists were chatting excitedly about his power fluctuations, but he paid them no heed. Distraction would be fatal. He heard himself gasp involuntarily as the last of the air was sucked from the tank, but by then he wasn't paying attention to the outside world anymore. He focused past the thundering of blood in his ears, the aching in his body, and the confusion of his mind, on cold, on ice, on freedom. His power surged through him as he built the moisture on the glass.

It was all over in less than a second. He frosted the glass, made it brittle, and shattered it in a split second. That fact was lost on Iceman though as his lungs involuntarily gulped oxygen in ragged gasps. He had not even noticed that his actions had happened so quickly that the electrical charge never ensued. All he was concentrating on was escape. And now he had all the moisture he needed.

* * * * *

At one-thirty in the morning, the riverfront was lifeless except for a few vagrants, some fishermen pulling a late night on their boats, and two mutants who were the complete opposite of one another. Jubilee loved traveling with Wolverine. They could go anywhere, no matter how unsavory the conditions. She never felt in danger when she was with Wolvie. She could investigate the waterfront at one-thirty and not fear muggings or kidnappers. Life was so good.

Suddenly, Wolverine stiffened beside her and cocked his head to one side. She waited patiently, knowing that asking him what he heard would only distract him from listening. She looked around cautiously to try and see the disturbance. After a few moments, though, her impatience got the best of her.

"Whatcha hear, Wolvie," she whispered.

"Don't know, darlin'," he answered. "It's real faint, and there ain't no scent."

"I don't see anything," Jubilee offered. "Maybe it's just a party?"

"Nah, ain't no party," he told her, "and it's getting louder."

Jubilee started to answer, but she held her reply when the ground started to shake. She held out her arms to steady herself. Beside her, Wolverine adopted a fighting stance even though his claws stayed underneath his knuckles. She watched in amazement as an abandoned building two blocks away was transformed into a four hundred foot pillar of sparkling ice.

Jubilee's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Wolvie?" she looked over at her companion, who appeared almost as surprised as she.

"Come on, darlin'," he ordered. "Let's see what kind of trouble Snowball's gotten into this time."

* * * * *

"Bobby!" Jean shot up in her bed, her hands going to her chest in fear that her pounding heart would leap from her ribcage. She took several deep breaths and wiped the damp tears from her face. Her hand brushed against the bed where Scott normally lay beside her. Unfortunately, he and several others had left the mansion hours earlier to investigate the latest Friends of Humanity "gathering." A minute later, she had focused herself and quelled her rampant terror.

"Dear, God, Bobby," she whispered to herself. "What have you gotten yourself into?" She quickly slipped on a pair of sandals and headed for the mansion. She could have easily flown in a telekinetic bubble, but her anxiety required physical exertion.

Jean opened the door and headed through the main foyer, toward the MedLab and the Cerebro unit Moira MacTaggert had loaned the X-Men. She was so preoccupied that, had it not been for some inhuman agility, she would have run straight into Gambit.

"What you doin' up, chere?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I could ask the same of you, Remy," she countered. She knew Gambit had went to sleep earlier this evening. His recent bout with a bad case of the flu had kept him from helping with the mission.

Suddenly Jean sensed another stab of agonizing emotion from Bobby's mind. She cried out involutarily as her knees buckled. Faster than she imagined possible, Gambit was at her side, saving her from a fall to the hardwood floor. He gently supported her around the waist as she regained her equilibrium.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he let go of her.

"It's Bobby," she said, opening her eyes and regarding him. "He's in some kind of danger. She watched as Gambit's face paled ever so slightly, even though his face remained expressionless. She did not fail to notice the haunted look that came to his eyes.

"Is there some way Gambit could have sensed Bobby's outcry?" Jean thought. She pushed the thought aside. Remy may be secretive, but she doubted he could hide that level of ability from some of the most powerful telepaths in the world. However, he had paled.

"We have to find some way to help him. Are you sure you're feeling up to it?"

"Gambit be fine," he answered with a smile. "He just can' stomach de gumbalaya for a while, non? I been wantin' t' go ta de Big Apple for weeks."

Jean was nearly out the door before she realized something in Gambit's glib statement. She looked at him strangely for a moment. How had Remy known Bobby's cry came from New York City? She had always secretly suspected Gambit kept some of the finer nuances of his mutant ability under wraps, thief's tricks of the trade and all. Besides being one of the world's strongest telepaths, she was also a licensed psychiatrist and not the naive, Alice she knew some of the other teammates sometimes mistook her for. Now, however, she wondered, just briefly, how deep the rabbit hole really went.

* * * * *

Part Four

Jubilee ran to catch up with Logan. She could see his shoulders tense as he jogged through the alleys. Jubilee couldn't help but worry too. The building had turned to ice in less than a second. She never knew Bobby could do that. It was kind of spooky.

Within three minutes, the two had made their way through the side streets to the ice building. The building was not only covered with ice, the ice sculpted it. Each individual window, doorway, and building fixture was molded with ice. If it could stay frozen, people could live in it. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"Frosty needs to forget the superhero gig and take up art," Jubilee mused quietly to herself. Wolverine grunted in reply. "You don't suppose he just got bored, do you?" she asked hopefully.

Wolverine shook his head. "It don't smell like fun here, Jubes." He smelled many things. Disinfectant, scientists, and metal, but overshadowing all those scents was desperation. Iceman's desperation. He growled low in his throat as memories came to the surface. "Something bad happened here," Wolverine commented.

Jubilee knew that look when she saw it on Wolverine's face. She did not like it in the least. Something had struck a chord in Logan's distorted memories, which only meant trouble for Iceman. She suddenly felt more anxious than ever to get into that building and find her friend.

"Oh my stars and garters!" a familiar voice commented behind him.

Wolverine spun around to see Beast and Emma Frost standing behind him, along with Skin and another girl he had never seen before. There was a smell on her he could not quite place, though. It made him edgy. So did the fact that he had not heard or smelled their approach, even though they stood downwind of he and Jubilee.

"What are you doing here?" Jubilee directed toward Ms. Frost.

"Looking for Drake," Emma answered bluntly. "What else?"

Wolverine could smell the anxiety on Frost and saw the tired look in her eyes, as well as the growing bruise on her temple. The others weren't much better. He could smell healing flesh on Beast. Angelo did not look that worse for wear, but the strange girl was leaning heavily on him for support. She appeared anxious as well.

"What happened to you?" he asked them, "and where did you pick up the kid?"

"We had a run in with some armored rejects," Skin answered.

"Actually, I picked them up," the girl retorted. Her voice sounded strained, but contained no fear. "We saw the building and they hitched a ride."

"Our young friend has recently acquired a rather formidable teleportation ability," Beast explained. "Though I deplore her overuse of it so soon after its discovery."

"Iceman would do the same for me," she replied defensively, still sounding a little shaky. So, the girl knew Popscicle, Wolverine mused. "Besides, I'll be fine in a minute," she assured Hank.

"You have expended a great deal of energy in the last few minutes, Isabella," Izzy cringed at the use of her real name. "A minute will not suffice. You will remain out here while we search the area."

Izzy glared at Ms. Frost, looking hurt because of being shoved to the side. "I'll watch her back, Ms. Frost," Skin put in. "We can take up the rear. I'm sure if the chica sees trouble, she can 'port herself to safety."

Wolverine cut the two off before they could argue. "Enough talkin'," he scowled. "We're not doin' any good out here bellyachin'. Let's go."

The six headed cautiously into the building, Wolverine and Emma in the lead, Jubilee, Skin, and Izzy following closely behind, and Beast taking up the rear. Beast noted with a degree of interest that Izzy was indeed correct about her condition. She no longer depended on Skin's supporting shoulder to keep upright. Her mutation kept showing new and unexpected dimensions. With control, he wondered what she could do. He took his gaze off the mysterious girl and took in his surroundings. Every surface was wrapped in ice, clear and transparent, but encompassing everything. Beast had known Bobby since they were teenagers. At times, the man of ice had proven himself stronger than others thought him, but he had never done anything to this scale. Even when he froze the Empire State Building, it hadn't been to this extreme. This was thorough, meticulous, and tragically beautiful.

"I didn't know Frosty had it in him," Jubilee commented as she looked around in awe.

"I don't think Snowball knew it either, darlin'," Wolverine answered her. He stopped, sniffing the air. "We've got people ahead," he called and started down a flight of stairs at a slow run.

The stair wound down farther than anyone, except maybe Wolverine suspected. Jubilee caught up with Skin and Izzy on the way down. "So," she asked Izzy. "How'd you and Frost meet up?"

"She came to speak at my school," Izzy answered. "If I had any idea she and Dr. McCoy would bring so much trouble, I would have invited them a year ago."

Angelo laughed. "You think that was bad," he said. "come to the Academy for a couple of days."

"Of course, now you will have to avoid rich snobs other than M," Jubilee joked. "But you would be great at scaring them and booby trapping their rooms. . . "

Their conversation was cut short when they reached the bottom of the stairs. They all stood in stunned silence as they surveyed the room. Along the sides of the walls, computer consoles and instrument readouts were frozen in time. A large cluster of computers sat near the other side of the room. Seven scientists looked at the intruders with horror. Some were standing, some sitting in chairs or leaning against desks, but none of them could move. They were encased to their necks in ice. Near the center of the room stood a single cylindrical tube. The glass encased was shattered, pieces scattered in every direction. On the wall across from the tube, a television shot sparks around a spire of ice that had been thrown through the screen.

"Don't breathe too deep, folks," he advised them. "There's some kind of aerosol sedative in the air." Wolverine growled low in his throat. These scum had been experimenting on Iceman. Only one thing stopped the Canadian from gutting every last one of the scientists in the building. Iceman could have killed them, but he didn't. Only a few more inches and he could have suffocated them, or he could have frozen all the blood in their bodies. There were several ways Iceman could have done it, but he hadn't. After they had put him through only God knew what, Bobby had restrained himself, and Wolverine respected him for it, even if it wasn't his style. The shattered television bothered him, though.

Beast walked up beside him. "Any sign of our frigid friend?" he asked.

"Nothin'," Logan answered. "He was here, but I'm sure ya could tell that. We should check out the other rooms down here. It's hard to catch his scent when he's in ice form." He looked at the assembled group. "Beast you and me can stay and check out this room. Everyone else, search the other rooms." He waited for Emma's words of protest, but they never came. She gathered the others together and quickly left for the other rooms.

#I will alert you if we find anything,# she told Wolverine.

#Thanks fer not complainin',# he answered.

#Complaining would not help the situation,# she replied.

He turned back to Beast, who was now staring intently at the computer readouts. Wolverine walked around a trembling scientist and stood beside him. "What ya find there, McCoy?" he asked.

"These men's experimentation data," he answered through clinched teeth, "and the intended procedures scheduled for after they obtained his identity. Iceman was kind enough to leave one computer terminal in working order."

Wolverine put a hand on Beast's shoulder, knowing how he felt. "So, his secret's still safe?" he asked just loud enough for Hank to hear.

"Yes," Beast answered.

"How long had he been here?" Wolverine asked.

"A week," Beast scowled. "I don't understand how he could have been here so long without anyone knowing!"

"These kind of scumbags have a way of planning everything out," Wolverine replied with a growl. "I'm sure they covered their tracks well."

Hank took a deep breath and assumed his usual professional manner. "It appears from these records that this operation was more than mere coincidence. They seem to have a small degree of information about many of the X-Men in this database." He looked at Wolverine. "We seem to have stumbled on a conspiracy."

"Any clue to where Iceman might be?"

"Alas, no. His escape surprised these men as much as the four hundred foot ice pillar did us. Shall we join our comrades in the next room or thaw out these mad scientists?"

"Leave them," Wolverine ordered coldly. Beast, for once, did not argue for more humane treatment. "Let's take the database and get the others."

Beast tore the motherboard and main memory circuits from the computer he was working on and he and Logan headed for the door. Just before they left the room Wolverine turned and looked back toward the shattered television.

"What is it, my friend?" Beast asked.

"I just don't get it," Logan commented. "The kid left everyone alive and all the equipment frozen, but intact, except for that screen. And he didn't just shatter it cleanly; he threw a spike through it. What could piss Bobby off that much?"

Beast looked and the television, his eyes widening as if noticing its possible significance only now. Iceman rarely ever lashed out with such raw violence. "Indeed," he mused, a concerned look spreading across his face. "We should rendezvous with the others."

* * * * *

A few blocks away, an eloquently dressed woman stood on the balcony of her penthouse apartment. Her dress, sheer and formfitting, looked like something taken directly from the fashion runway. The furious tantrum she was displaying on the balcony took away from that fact however. She jumped up and down in her heels and pounded her fist against the railing. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes looked over the New York skyline with hatred. Allison Stills was not a happy woman tonight.

"Those incompetant fools," she howled into the night air. "I leave for one banquet and all hell breaks loose! He was practically broken. We should have been able to get anything we wanted from him." She started pacing back and forth across the abandoned balcony. "And the moron manages to escape. Him, escape. Not only did he get out, he destroyed my building!"

Her pacing intensified and her arms started to swing at her sides. She tugged at her upswept hair and shrieked in utter frustration. "Stupid mutie freaks. Always getting in the way! Everything I try, they ruin. I could have made him suffer! Suffer like my parents . . ." She resolutely held back the tears that threatened to fall.

"My father trusted you!" she yelled at thin air. "Let you stay at our house even though you were obviously different. Gave you clothes, food, even a job when no one else in town would hire you!" Her heels clicked dangerously on the concrete as she practically ran around the balcony. Her tears remainded unshed, however. The sadness had left her long ago. Hatred burned in place of that grief.

"HE LOVED YOU!!" she screamed. She gripped the balcony rail and shook it forcefully.

"I loved you." She shuddered and took a deep breath to calm herself. "The day you killed my father was the day you signed a death warrant for you, and every other mutant abomination."

Stills stopped pacing and leaned heavily on the balcony's railing. A tall man in a dark suit walked out onto the balcony, standing behind his boss. "Ms. Stills, ma'am, the operatives just radioed in their report."

"And?"

"The mission was. . . unsuccessful, ma'am," the man answered reluctantly. "The specimens proved more resourceful than we anticipated." Stills glared at him dangerously. "It was not a complete loss however. Stevens said this would be of great interest to you, ma'am." He handed her a tiny videorecorder.

"This is from the previous mission?" she asked, a smile slowly creeping to her face.

"Yes, Ms. Stills. One of the guards placed the videorecorder near the breach in the main wall. He thought it might come in handy."

"Excellent. Give that man a raise," she proclaimed. "Now leave me alone." She excused him with the wave of her hand.

As soon as he left the balcony, she turned on the small videorecorder and begin watching the replay of the mission. These guys were good, she had to admit. The way the big blue guy tore through her troopers, it fascinated her. She wondered how long he would last in the tank. Even the woman held up well, despite the fact she did not possess any mutant powers she could see. Maybe this Emma Frost was more than she appeared. Allison shook her head. Nah, she just has enough money to hire a good self defense instructor.

Stills leaned against the railing and watched on in interest. Four of her five men were now down, but the other had just knocked out that bitch, Frost and fired at the beast. A piece of debris flew over the blue guy's head and crashed into some students. Funny, no one had informed her of fatalities during the conflict.

She fast-forwarded the video after her troops retreated, noting the main happenings. The beast was digging through the debris. How noble of him. The snob was panicking and spacing out just like all women from her social class. Stills was about to turn it off when a blue sphere filled the entire screen. She watched in amazement as the two students she thought dead appeared in the middle of the room. She paused the playback to get a closer look.

"Well, well, well," she mused with a wry smile. "The plot thickens." With a renewed resolve and more even temperment, she pulled a cell phone out of her small purse. This was going to be good, she thought with a smile.

* * * * *

Halfway down the hallway, they were met by Jubilee. "I was just coming to get you," she said, panting for breath. "Come quick."

"Why didn't Emma contact us telepathically?" Beast asked with concern.

"Psi-shielding," Jubilee explained. "It makes what Snowball did even freakier."

The three broke into a run, careful not to slip on the floors. When they got to the room, what they saw made their blood run cold. The room was a picture of carnage. Twenty or more of the cylindrical tubes were frozen, bent, and smashed on one side of the room. Wolverine picked up a scrap of metal.

"Storm," it read. Wolverine jerked his head up and scanned the debris. Under each broken cylinder was a metal plate with a name. Cyclops, Phoenix, Angel, Gambit, Rogue, Jubilee, Chamber. . . there were remainants of enough tubes to contain all the X-Men and Generation X as well. This kept getting worse and worse. What had they stumbled onto?
On the other side of the room was, of all things, an igloo. Wolverine peered at it closely. Suddenly Emma crawled out of the opening carrying a small child. Izzy and Skin soon followed, both also leading out children. The children huddled against Izzy and Skin frightfully, hiding behind their legs.

"It's alright," Izzy assured the boy behind her. "We're the good guys."

"Are you with the icy man?" the oldest child, a girl, asked.

"You seen him, darlin'?" Wolverine asked.

"Y, yeah," she stammered, "through the igloo's roof. He flew out of here real fast. He went crooked, like he was dizzy or something."

Wolverine nodded his head. "Yeah, I can smell him now," he told her. "Thanks, kid."

Emma handed the child she held to Angelo. "You and Izzy take the children outside so the authorities will find them. I assume you know the way out?"

"Si, Frost," Skin answered. "Care to come, Jubecita?"

Jubilee looked around at the assembled adults. She could feel Emma urging her to leave with Skin and Izzy. For a moment she considered staying just to spite her headmistress. However, she had a feeling what they were going to talk about and she decided that she preferred to cling to the belief that Bobby had come through this unscathed for a few more minutes.

"Alright," she followed them outside.

"We haven't got much time, Emma," Beast told her. "If you're going to scan the room to find out what happened, then do it."

Emma nodded. She sat down on the floor and began concentrating on the psychic echoes in the room. She was not disappointed. She began to get a mental image of the scene through the girl's eyes. She was huddled in the igloo that had mysteriously formed a few moments ago. Suddenly, a man burst into the room on a thin sheet of ice. He stumbled and fell to the frozen floor. Lifting his head slowly, he noticed the other tubes, and screamed with rage and fear. Without even raising his hands, the miniature prisons shattered and crumbled to the ground. Emma was slightly taken back by the power and control of his attack. Then the man raced for the ceiling high above. She saw his slide waver as he made his way for the small skylight. She let go of Wolverine and Beast's minds, who had been watching along with her.

Without a word, Emma walked out of the psi-shielded room and carefully reached out for Iceman's mind. She hit his thoughts of panic and confusion head on. She felt herself reel back, but resolved not to let him push her away again. She desperately tried to pinpoint his location. After a few moments, she realized that he didn't even know where he was. His stress level and drugged state compounded to produce utter chaos in his mind. He was running blindly, seeking escape from his captors.

#Calm down, Drake. It's Emma.#

She felt his mind clear slightly. #Emma?# he called softly. He sounded like a lost child.

#Yes, Drake. Where are you?#

Again, she was hit by his confusion and panic. #Don't know. . . Big buildings. . .billboards. . . .# She caught an image, but felt his consciousness start to falter. He'd managed to give her a clue, though.

#Don't pass out on me, Drake! We are coming to find you.#

She opened her eyes. "I found him!" she proclaimed. Both of the men relaxed visibly. "We have to hurry though, while I still have a lock on him."

They raced out of the building and down to where Izzy, Skin, and Jubilee stood. The other children were gone, she noticed. The three looked at them expectantly. Their eyes asked the question all of them were afraid to voice: Was Iceman okay?

"I've located him," Emma informed them. "Unfortunately, he is over Times Square, and heading farther away from us."

"But why would he do that if you talked to him?" Jubilee asked in confusion.

"He's not thinkin' straight, Jubes," Wolverine answered. Jubilee nodded in understanding. She knew that people could act strangely when they were hurt or confused. Sure, Bobby had been hurt before, but she did not like to think of him so incapacitated. Not since the power surge and Sabretooth's escape.

Emma cried out involuntarily as she felt Iceman struggle to remain conscious. "I'm losing him. We have to get going."

"No one's going anywhere," a voice spoke over a bullhorn. Everyone turned to see Henry Peter Gyrich standing a hundred feet from the frozen building with a small military strike force. "You are all under arrest by the authority of the United States Government."

"I'll show ya authority, bub," Wolverine replied, unsheathing his foot long claws.

"There's no way we can all make it to Times Square in under ten minutes," Izzy appeared behind the headmistress, putting Emma's body between her and Gyrich. "Can you still feel him?" she asked.

"Yes," Emma answered. "Weakly. He's going fast."

"Showing your true colors, I see," Gyrich yelled. "Killing innocent bystanders is standard procedure for you, isn't it? But mark my words, this will be the last government facility you destroy, mutants!"

"A government facility?" Beast answered with confusion and more than a little anger. "Do you run this laboratory?"

"Don't play stupid with me, McCoy," Gyrich jeered. "These are office buildings for government scientists."

"Oh, please," Jubilee retorted sarcastically. "You're joking, right?"

Both Ms. Frost and Beast noticed his armored guards at the same time. They were the same who had attacked McCallister's a few hours ago. If Gyrich was telling the truth, then. . .

"Gyrich you must listen to us," Emma interrupted him.

"I won't listen to anything you have to say," he shot back defiantly.

Wolverine growled as a new figure came out of the shadows behind Gyrich. "Actually, he had no clue about what was going on in this building." she answered. "Just that his niece had started associating with some unsavory types." The woman smiled and brought a flashlight down on his head before he could react. "You should have listened to the yuppie, Gyrich." Izzy held back her cry of outrage. She didn't think Stills had noticed her yet.

Wolverine lunged for the woman, claws extended. His flight was suddenly stopped in midair, however by an impact with an invisible wall. The woman pressed a button and Logan was enveloped in a green globe. Wolverine fought the elastic material with hand and claw to little effect. "A nice effect of the gas in the tank is the dulling of the senses, especially smell."

Suddenly the streets came alive with armored soldiers. They came from every direction, soundlessly, despite their heavy artillery. "Surrender now or Gyrich and the animal die slowly."

"No!" Izzy cried.

A blue substance spread from Izzy's hands onto Emma's arms. Izzy looked skyward and closed her eyes. Images swarmed into her mind at an alarming rate. Good thing she caught her by surprise or it might be hurting more than it did already. Finally after what seemed like forever, but was only a fraction of a second, Izzy found what she was looking for.

"I see him," she stated. She spread out her mind to encompass everyone around her, screaming from the strain. She could not grab the X-Men, no matter how hard she tried. Something in the men's armor blocked her. Her uncle remained out of reach too.

#Go, child,# Emma projected to her. #Find Iceman and get help.#

Emma pulled free of Izzy's grip and elbowed the soldier next to her. The man stumbled, hitting Skin with the butt of his gun and knocking him into Izzy. In the blink of an eye, a blue sphere formed around her. With a small flash of light, they both disappeared.

* * * * *

When Jean stepped out of the boathouse, Gambit could barely believe his eyes. She had dressed in a pair of worn boots, ripped jeans and a green halter top that accentuated not only her eyes, but also her well developed abs.

"Chere, does Cyke know y' have clothes like dat?" Remy managed.

"Yes, Remy, he does," she answered calmly.

"Den why don' he make y' wear dem more often?"

"So, you think I'll fit in?" she asked.

"Don' worry. You look ev'ry inch de biker chic. Maybe I loan Cyke de Harley an' he take y' bar hoppin' next weekend, non?" The two climbed onto his bike, Jean clinging tightly to the Cajun's waist, and sped off toward the city's bright lights.

Now, Jean heard the muted noise of a battle just around the corner from where she and Remy stood in the shadows. Her friends, her family needed her. She started out of the darkened alley, but her progress was halted by a gloved hand grabbing her wrist gently.

"Too many soldiers, chere," Gambit told her. "We wouldn' be any help t' dem."

Jean paused, shocked by his words. Usually Remy never hesitated to dive into any skirmish with the X-Men, no matter the odds. Of course, she realized, the entire team was not here, only an insomniac telepath with a bad feeling and an under the weather Cajun. "How do you know how many soldiers there are?" she asked curiously. She could only feel a shadowed presence, as if something was blocking her scan.

"Years of t'ief trainin', chere," he replied glibly. "You hear de fighting sounds, non? Where is Wolverine's growl, or Jub'lee's fireworks. De battle be very one sided."

She listened for a moment and nodded in solemn agreement. "Is there any way we can get a better look at them without being spotted?"

Gambit grinned crookedly. "But of course," he answered.

* * * * *

Peter Parker sat in an old armchair in his living room. After Skin and Izzy's abrupt exit, Peter had been tempted to try and follow them, but the fact he kept his webslinging quiet made him reluctant. That did not help his ability to sleep, however. He jumped slightly when the phone rang beside him. He fumbled with it for a few moments before putting it to his ear.

"Hullo?" he answered sleepily.

"Parker, why haven't you left yet?" a voice bellowed on the other side of the line.

"Mr. Jameson?" he said bewilderedly. "What are you talking about?"

"It's all over the news, Parker. Turn on your TV."

Peter obliged him. CNN was broadcasting from the city docks. He could see helicopters circling behind the veteran reporter's head, searching the area. The reporter herself, despite the makeup, looked like she had just woke up. It was four in the morning, he reminded himself. Suddenly the scene changed and Peter sat up abruptly. The television showed a full view of a building completely covered in ice.

"Holy . . ."

"My thoughts exactly, Parker," Jameson replied. "Now get down there and get me some pictures! I'll expect them for the morning edition." Parker pulled the phone from his ear as Jameson slammed down the phone.

"Honey, I heard the phone ringing. Who was . . ." Mary Jane's voice faltered when she saw the image on the TV screen. "What happened? Is that building covered in . . .ice? It's the middle of April, during a heat wave."

"I know," Peter answered. "J.J. wants pictures. No rest for the weary, I suppose."

"You weren't sleeping anyway," Mary Jane countered. "Not with those two kids out who knows where." She glanced at the ice building once again. "Just be careful, ok?"

"I promise," Peter answered, wrapping her in a loving embrace.

* * * * *

Jean and Gambit leaned up against the fire escape of one of the buildings adjacent to the crime scene, watching the action two stories below. Jean marveled at Gambit's ability to get them so close without being seen. One of these days, she would have to finish convincing her husband that he needed to get Gambit to tutor the X-Men in some of his "t'ievin' skills" as he so eloquently put it. She crouched beside Remy and observed the scene below.

Several ambulances had arrived at the scene, their alarms screaming loudly. The police had arrived several minutes earlier and entered the building in full riot armor. Several men, scientists by the look of them, were wheeled of the building on dollies. Gambit shook silently with suppressed laughter beside her. She caught sight of three children huddled in one of the squad cars. The police officer had somehow bought them food even though it was the middle of the night. From their vantage point, they could hear the reporter.

"Barely an hour ago, the building behind me looked no different than the ones next to it. However, at 2:30 EST, an unknown mutant terrorist group attacked the building, turning it to the icy form you see behind me. Seven scientists working at this federal building sustained minor injuries, but thankfully no fatalities have been reported. Details are not known at the moment as to the amount of property damage, but estimates are in the hundreds of millions of dollars."

Suddenly, Gambit stiffened beside her even as she felt a presence moving swiftly toward them. Remy did not turn around, but she saw him draw several cards out of an invisible pocket inside his coat. A figure landed expertly on the fire escape railing and held up both his hands.

"Whoa, hold it," he said glibly. "I'm one of the good guys." He eased himself off of the railing and Jean relaxed as she saw the familiar costume.

"What brings you here this time of night?" Jean asked him curiously.

"Skin and a friend of mine showed up at my house an hour ago," he started to explain. "They left looking for Iceman. When I saw the ice-scraper, I thought it was time I checked up on them."

"Your frien' and Skin been lookin' fer Iceman? Anyone else wit' dem?" Gambit asked.

"I remember Skin saying something about a Miss Frost," Spidey answered. "Izzy, my friend, said that some armored soldiers attacked her school earlier tonight."

"Henri was goin' t' talk at a school," Gambit remembered. "Mus' be de same one, non?"

"Probably," Jean reasoned. "Emma and Beast must have went searching for Iceman. Hopefully, they have found him by now."

"I wouldn't be so sure," a voice said softly from the entrance of the alley.

Spiderman looked toward the source of the voice and saw Ben Urich standing with his back to the three. Spidey had to respect the man's observance. Gambit blended into the shadow of the building, and he and Jean were hardly any more visible. Jean and Gambit gave him a questioning look and he nodded, saying they could trust him.

"What have you heard, Ben?" Spiderman asked cautiously.

"A police officer tells me that those three kids in the squad car swear they were saved by an icy man that was being held prisoner by the people that work in that building. The oldest girl says she even saw him inside some kind of glass tube when they brought her there a couple of days ago." Ben paused for a few moments, pretending to read through his notes. Spidey silently thanked him for not drawing attention toward them. He saw Gambit grin slightly as he realized his tactics.

"They were brought in forty-five minutes ago by three teenagers, an Asian girl in a yellow coat, a gray-skinned boy, and a girl with glowing hands. They didn't stay around to make a statement."

"Have you got anything else?" Spiderman probed.

"An eyewitness reports to have seen Iceman flee the scene and later to have seen Henry Peter Gyrich and a group of mutants arguing. He went on to say that an unidentified woman entered the scene, knocked Gyrich in the head with a blunt object, and sicced two dozen armored troops on the remaining mutants. He said two escaped though, in a big blue globe." Ben sighed. "I can't make much of this story, but whatever happened, it isn't what the news is saying. I thought you guys might get more out of it than me."

"Thanks, Ben," Spidey called down to him softly.

"Just do one thing for me," Ben said as he started to leave.

"What dat be, homme?" Gambit asked.

"When you find whoever took those kids, hit them once for me. Those kids were tired, dirty, and hadn't eaten in days. I'd find your friend fast. He's probably not in any better shape than them if what the girl told me is true."

"Thank you, sir," Jean told him as she left. She balled her hands into fists at her sides in fury. Gambit put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Part Five

Gyrich came to his senses slowly. A pronounced throbbing worked its way from the base of his skull to the edges of both his temples. Where was he? What had just happened? Gyrich tried to focus on the earlier events, but his pounding head prevented it. He only recalled one thing: the X-Men. Or, at least some of them were X-Men. There was also a strange woman and some teenagers. Gyrich wondered where they all were now. He tried to sit up and a soft groan escaped his lips.

"I wouldn't move all that much if I were you, bub," a voice advised him gruffly.

"The blow to the cranium you received from our humble host did not leave you unscathed. You have sustained a severe concussion and increased mobility will only aggravate the injury. Until a proper medical examination can be arranged and diagnosis made as to the condition of the occipital plate of your skull, I suggest you remain in your prone position."

"What?" Gyrich asked faintly.

"Beast said the bitch with the flashlight may've cracked your hard noggin, so don't move," Jubilee supplied for him.

"Language," Miss Frost chided none too gently.

Jubilee scowled. "We're all trapped in some abandoned basement by some. . . witch that's crazier than Gyrich. Iceman's missing along with Skin and I. . .mmmmfff!"

Beast hastily clamped an oversized hand over Jubilee's mouth and half of her face. "We need not be reminded of our dire predicament." He leaned over close to Jubilee's ear. "Do not mention Izzy to Gyrich," Jubilee looked at him with confusion, but upon seeing Beast's serious expression did not say another word.

"Why would you care about me?" Gyrich asked faintly.

"Believe me, it's not you," Wolverine answered coldly. You got a fix on the kids yet, Frosty?"

Gyrich opened his eyes to see the sole collarless person, besides himself sitting on the floor with her eyes closed. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and beaded with sweat. He could have sworn he saw a slight pinkish glow radiating from her body. He watched her with amazement.

#I did not expect curiosity to be your first reaction upon encountering a mutant power,# Emma commented to him telepathically. Gyrich grimaced.

"You're lady friend apparently did not do her homework as well as she thought," Emma commented aloud. "She failed to realize I possessed mutant abilities." She smiled sadly, but with a degree of pride. "She also underestimated Iceman's abilities and resourcefulness."

"I think everybody did," Jubilee interjected.

"What does Iceman have to do with all this?" Gyrich asked. This situation kept getting more and more complicated. All he had wanted to do tonight was make sure his Isabella was safe.

"Iceman was the reason we were all at the laboratory," Beast explained.

"The four hundred foot ice sculpture should have given you a clue, Gyrich," Emma explained coldly. Jubilee did a double take. "We discovered that your collegues have been performing experiments on him for the past week. Unfortunately, your compatriots covered their tracks well and we did not know of his apparent disappearance until tonight, or rather last night."

"Allison had Iceman? They ran tests on him? Why didn't I know about this?"

"Why indeed?" Emma glared at him. "I thought you kept your employees on short leashes. Unless you were in on it all along."

"Nah, Frost," Wolverine interjected. "He's tellin' the truth. For once. The dame worked everything behind his back. The senses may be dampened, but I can still spot a lie."

"Obviously, we are not the only people who have been left in the dark," Beast told Emma. "It appears that Operation: Wideawake is experiencing some degree of conflict of interest in its management infrastructure. Care to enlighten us as to the specifics of this mutiny."

"Why should I tell you anything?" Gyrich argued.

"Heads up, people," Wolverine growled. Emma quickly stopped her mental scanning as a laugh was heard near the darkened doorway.

"Because the lives of that twit you call an X-Man, the ghetto Stretch Armstrong, and your niece quite possibly depend on what information you give them so they can make their escape," a voice answered with a chuckle.

"Allison, what have you done with Isabella?" Gyrich demanded. Out of his line of vision, he heard a small gasp escape Jubilee's lips.

She walked through the room until she stood over Henry Peter Gyrich. He squinted in order to focus on her face. No matter how hard he tried her visage still wavered slightly. Finally, with a nearly inaudible sigh, he gave up and just let the image swim in front of his eyes.

"I think I like seeing you in this helpless state even more than I would like you dead. Good thing I ignored my first impulse to kill you back at the laboratory. Maybe you will prove to be of some use to me, especially since your niece is still running around." She turned to Ms. Frost. "Nice move, by the way," she commented. "Elbowing that guard so she and that Latino kid could make a break for it. I'll make sure you pay for that."

Emma laughed at her haughtily. "You can try, certainly, though I seriously doubt you have the intelligence necessary."

"Funny, Iceman said something to that effect after I captured him. Of course, his statement was a little more crude. He soon ate his words. Breaking him proved very entertaining. He struggled at first, but within 36 hours I had him blubbering like a newborn. It was a pity, really. All bark, no bite."

Her speech was abruptlly halted by riotous laughter near the far wall of the room. Wolverine rolled around on the floor inside his elastic prison, tears streaming down his face as he gripped his sides and cackled with reckless abandon.

"What do you find amusing, animal?" Stills asked with a frown.

"You, lady!" he gasped, not even trying to contain his outburst. "Even without my senses, I can tell you're lyin'." Wolverine's eyes narrowed. His voice quieted. "He got under your skin, didn't he?" He saw Stills wince ever so slightly and continued, a smirk plastered across his face. "You tortured him, but he didn't give an inch. The second you laid eyes on him, you figured the kid'd be a pushover, no problem. But, you were wrong."

"Cease this bantering," Stills commanded.

"He beat you at your own game. Popscicle escaped and you learned nothing except that your machines don't work."

"I will listen to no more of this," Stills yelled at the Canadian.

Wolverine smiled at her sympathetically. "It's alright, lady. Everyone gets proven wrong once in a while. 'Course, most people realize it before someone destroys their entire operation."

"That whelp means nothing to me," Stills argued. "I have more labs, more resources . . . "

Wolverine chuckled once more. "You want to delude yourself, lie ta someone who knows better. I've seen that twinkle in a body's eye too often. You wanted ta control him like a puppet on a string. So, you put him in a big glass jar, hopin' he'd crack and tell ya everything you wanted to know. But your plan backfired, bigtime, and it's eatin' away at ya. Face it, ya want 'em bad. He destroyed your building, froze your staff, let out your other experiments. It really gets to ya, don' it?"

"Shut up!" the woman screamed. An electrical pulse ran through the Wolverine's elastic bubble and rippled though his nerve synapses. An inhuman howl escaped his lips as the smell of burnt flesh and hair circulated through the small room.

After a few minutes, Allison Stills pushed a button on the small remote she held in her hand. She wrinkled her nose at the smell and headed for the door. "He's nothing! An animal, a lab rat to pick apart at my leisure, an it. He's not even worth the air he expends. Someone should have shot him the moment he showed signs of mutancy!" she cried. "All you muties deserve to die. Every single last one of you! But he will suffer like none of you can ever imagine. He will plead for death. I will get him back! And I will break him!"

"You're a fool if you think he'll ever tell you anything," Gyrich sneered from his place on the floor. His statement was rewarded by a kick to the face that left his ears ringing. Stills stomped out of the room and slammed the door. A weak chuckle was heard on the other side of the room from Wolverine.

"Remind me t' give Snowball a pat on the back next time I see 'em," Wolverine commented hoarsely. "Up 'til now, I thought only me 'n Gumbo could piss a woman off that bad."

Silence prevailed over the room for several moments after the woman left, both because of her barely contained moments of psychosis and Gyrich's unexpected outburst. Jubilee, the only abuductee close enough to reach Gyrich wiped away the trails of blood now coming from his nose and busted lip with a napkin from her yellow coat. She repositioned his cracked glasses over his eyes.

"Ya know, that almost sounded like you were takin' up for an X-Man for a sec," she commented quietly. She was not sure how to speak to the man, who at any other time would be her enemy.

"I owed it to Iceman. He saved Isabella's life," he answered. Gyrich looked at the girl. He knew there was no reason she should even care about him, given her past with the X-Men and his with Wideawake and Operation Zero Tolerance. If the situation was reversed, he wondered if he would have shown compassion toward her. He shuddered inwardly when he realized the answer. His niece would have though, without a second thought about her past, background, or genetic makeup. She was about the same age as his niece, he realized upon closer scrutiny, actually a little younger. Suddenly something Allison Stills said struck him.

"Allison said Isabella and someone escaped," he began, wincing from the pain talking caused. "Where did they go? Why was she with you?"

"She was helping us find Iceman," Frost answered coolly. "She and another boy managed to escape the amored strike force you led to us."

"Why did you let her put herself in that kind of danger?" he asked accusingly.

Emma looked slightly ashamed. Jubilee broke in before Ms. Frost could respond. "She knew exactly what she was getting into, HPG," Jubilee answered. "She felt it was her responsibilty, and no one could convince her otherwise."

Just a hint of a smile appeared on Gyrich's face. "Isabella's a stubborn girl, isn't she?" He tried to shift his head, but when that didn't work, he just moved his eyes until he was looking at Emma. "Where did they go?" he asked weakly.

"To find Iceman, of course," she answered.

Gyrich seemed satisfied with that answer and was quiet. At least he knew she was safe, for the moment. He decided to look at the ceiling and try to ignore the pain in his skull.

* * * * *

"I've got to stop doing this," Angelo grumbled from where he laid on the ground. He opened his eyes with a groan and turned over on his stomach. "Maybe one of these days, I'll get used to popping from one place to another."

With that thought, he realized he hadn't heard anything from Izzy yet. He got to his feet as fast as his disoriented body would allow and looked around frantically. He saw her sitting, huddled in a ball, not far from him. He went over and helped her to her feet.

"When we find Iceman, I'm going to take a bottle of aspirin and sleep for a week. And I am never trying to look into Miss Frost's mind again," she said through chattering teeth. Her lips had taken on a slightly blue cast and she was shivering uncontrollably. She started jumping up and down and pacing to get her blood warmed. "And I'm going to sleep in the thickest pair of flannel pajamas I own."

"I hear ya," he agreed. "I haven't even done anything and I'm totally bushed. I don't even see how you can stand, much less jump up and down."

"One of the many advantages of being slightly hyperactive," she answered with a grin. She wasn't shivering nearly as bad now, but her lips were still slightly blue. Angelo decided to keep an eye on her.

"So, where are we?" he asked.

Izzy looked over at him. That's when she noticed the gash on his forehead. "You're bleeding!" she informed him with alarm.

Angelo touched his forehead, and sure enough, saw a smudge of red on his fingertips. He held his fingers there for a minute until he believed the bleeding had ebbed. "Don't worry about it, chica. I'll be fine. Where's Iceman?

"From what I got from Ms. Frost's mind, which wasn't much more than a monster headache, he should be right on top of us."

She wasn't that far off. In truth, he was right above them. The two jumped as he crashed into an oak tree 100 yards from where they stood. Angelo and Izzy turned to see him fall to the ground.

"There he is!" Izzy exclaimed and ran toward him, Angelo not far behind.

Iceman staggered to his feet. He didn't know where he was, all he knew was he had to get away. There was no way he would let them take him back, ever. His head was swimming so much, he could barely tell up from down. The only thing on his mind was escape, and no one was going to stop him.

Izzy came to a halt about twenty feet from where he stood. "Iceman, stop," she called.

"I'm not going back there!" he screamed. In a split second eight ice spikes formed in the air, spiraling straight at Izzy, who was still recovering from her last teleport.

Angelo reacted instinctively. His fingers lashed out and grabbed the nearest tree branch, several feet away. He grabbed Izzy tightly around the waist and swung them Tarzan style out of harm's way. He deposited Izzy near the tree and quickly pulled in the extra skin until his fingers were their normal length again.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah" she reassured him. "You alright?"

He nodded.

Izzy promptly punched him in the arm. "How dare you not tell me you could do such neat things with your hands! Here I am flaunting my 'gifts' and I didn't even let you share in the fun."

Their banter was cut short when they saw Iceman coming toward them. The ice gave way to his flesh and blood form and he stumbled. He shook his head, as if to clear it and stared at them. The two backed up apprehensively.

"Skin . . . Izzy?" he asked, his voice like sand paper getting rubbed against a cheese grinder. Both of them could hear the exhaustion, as well as a glint of hope in his voice. The last of his strength drained away and he collapsed to the ground with a hoarse moan. Angelo and Izzy approached him cautiously.

"How is he?" Skin asked when they got to his unconscious form.

"He's alive, but he looks like he's been through the ringer," Izzy answered. "Of course, I'm no doctor, just one of the few people who actually paid attention in first aid. There's about a billion things I could miss. He's dehydrated . . . I think, and as crazy as it sounds, feverish." She looked at his face, covered with several days worth of beard growth. Even the stubble didn't cover up how young he was underneath all that ice. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "I don't think he's slept in days," she said, pity etched in her voice. Izzy looked at the ground. "He's been tortured," she said, more to herself than to Skin.

Angelo swore under his breath. Whoever did this was going to pay, he silently vowed it. Iceman didn't do anything to deserve being treated like some kind of lab experiment. He had watched scenerios and the few pieces of old footage showing the original X-Men in action. Iceman didn't pull punches, but he never lashed out with this kind of cruelty. There was no reason for something like this to happen to him, to anyone. Of course, when was life ever fair? Suddenly, a movement from the road caught his eye. It was the armored men, moving in from far off in the distance.

"Um, Izzy," he asked. "We need to get out of here. Now"

"What?"

"Remember those armored freaks from earlier? They're back with a vengence. Got any ideas where we could go? How about Spidey's crib?"

"I don't think I could make it there with all three of us," she admitted regretfully. "I'm thinking, though."

"Make it fast, they're getting closer," he informed her. They both made sure not to make eye contact and tell the strike force they had sensed their presence. Angelo silently wished that he or Izzy possessed enhanced strength. Then they could just carry Iceman out of here. Iceman looked light enough for Skin to pick up, but running from their pursuit with him in tow was a different matter entirely.

Izzy grabbed Angelo's hand and pulled him down beside her and Iceman. "We're going to have to be close together in order for this to work. How close are they?"

"Just behind that stand of trees. They're waiting to ambush us," Skin answered.

A small blue globe formed in her hand and slowly began to expand. Skin could see sweat beading on her brow from the effort. The globe in her palm got darker and darker until it more closely resembled a tiny black hole. "Hold on tight. This is going to be a bumpy ride." Almost quicker than Angelo could comprehend, the globe engulfed the three of them. Izzy grabbed Iceman and him by the arm. He could feel the heat draining from her fingers. Izzy's jaw clenched and eerily blue orbs glowed where hazel eyes had been only moments ago.

"And we're off!" she yelled. They disappeared in a blinding flash of blue, leaving nothing behind, save eight ice spikes melting in the grass.

* * * * *