In a private club outside of D.C., two men in their mid-thirties met in a small booth. They were clad nearly identically in expensive business suits and mirrored sunglasses. They each nodded a hello to the other before sitting down.

"I trust your making progress?" The first said.

The second nodded. "Everything is going as planned."

"Good."

The second man hesitated a moment before speaking again. "It may even go beyond what we had planed."

This did not rest well with the first. He lowered his sunglasses down slightly, just enough to peer over the edge. "Oh?" He asked, his voice icy.

Growing nervous, the second man began to fidget. "Yes, well, The idea went over excellently. It surely will pass."

"What did you mean, 'go beyond'?" The first man asked frigidly, bringing the conversation back to the former topic.

"It's nothing. If it becomes something, I shall notify you." The second man said, getting up to leave.

After he was gone, the first remained. His business here was not yet finished.

He ordered a cocktail and waited for another half hour, slowly sipping on his beverage and checking out the occasional scantily dressed college girl whose type so often littered the club.

Then, non-discreetly, one of them confidently walked over to his table. With a large smile, she sat down.

"Hi," she said, with a toss of her long, dark hair. "You busy tonight?" Her voice had a slight Middle Eastern accent to it.

The man grinned back. "Nope," He replied.

The girl entwined her long fingers on the tabletop, clicking her nails against the fake marble top.

"How much do you charge?" The man asked.

"Sixty, US." Then a high-pitched laugh followed.

The man nodded. "Shall we head out then?" He asked standing up. The girl stood up also, and together they walked out.

From the shadows of the club, the second man watched his partner and shook his head. He had had suspicions of his partner making arrangements behind his back; but now it was pretty clear all his partner was doing was 'having a bit of fun'… He thought about that for a second and with a laugh ordered up another drink from the bar.

Out in the parking lot, The man looked around quickly, before hitting the button to unlock his car. Him and Sadira had to be careful that neither of them was under surveillance. Once in the car, they were both silent until they were speeding down the highway.

"So how's your brother?" He asked, breaking the silence.

Sadira smiled, "Rez is good, busy planning one new thing or another." She said with a laugh.

"Business is good then?"

She smiled, "Yes, well, one night in Bali, another in Israel, then a quick jump through Germany. Keeps us all busy."

The man nodded. "I got a job for you."

Sadira stopped laughing. "For the team, or just for me?" She asked cautiously.

The man shrugged. "You. The team. Doesn't matter to me as long as it gets done."

"And the usual pay?" She asked.

"Of course."

She smiled. "Do tell then."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Two weeks later.

"Brain." An Annoyed sigh. "Brain!"

Brain snapped his head up. Staring at him with hands upon hips was his biology partner, Kelly. She gestured over to the silver pan containing their dissection project with a disgusted look on her face. "I am so not touching that thing!" she quietly screeched.

Brian shook his head and reluctantly put down his cell phone. He'd been instant messaging with one of his friends in another class. Kelly was admittedly one of his best friends though – not to mention this was considered a 'huge' assignment.

He walked over to where Kelly was, and looked down at the dead creature the teacher had given them. Inside the pan lay a small octopus, roughly about a foot long it's flesh a cold gray color.

Kelly wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thing. "I don't see why we have to do this," she muttered under her breath.

Brian rolled his eyes. He gestured for her to come a bit closer. Cautiously, Kelly obeyed.

Sounding serious, Brian began. "Look, the thing has eight legs. Just keep slicing and if you mess up, just use another leg." And with that, he picked the creature up and promptly handed to her before she realized what he was doing. Mortified Kelly held it out as far away as she could in her gloved hands. Grimacing, she dropped it back into the pan, causing splatters of goo to shoot out.

Kelly screeched and Brian reflexively jumped back, cell phone in hand.

Just then, their teacher returned to class. He momentarily glanced towards the back, trying to see what all the ruckus had been about. Brushing that off as usual teenager antics, he returned his focus to the class in general. "Students," He called.

About half the class turned to look up at him, the rest continued what they were doing.

He cleared his throat. "I…I have an announcement from the office. There has been a terrorist attack in Las Vegas this morning. The Office has requested that we cancel assignments for the day, so students can deal with what happened. You are all therefore excused from today's lab. Please bring your materials to the front cleaned; and I shall turn on the television." With that the teacher turned and began fiddling with the controls of the classroom TV.

 

Brian cleaned out the pan and rinsed the scalpel while Kelly picked small, gooey bits of octopus out of her long red hair.

"You should've worn a shower cap," He said with a grin. She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove before returning to her seat.

After returning the items to the front, Brian joined her at the table they shared. Once she saw he had sat down, Kelly reached over and carefully picked a good-sized chunk of their project from his dirty blonde hair. She then held it out in front of his face, pinched tentatively between two fingers. "Maybe someone here should have worn a shower cap," She said with a giggle.

Brian was amused, but didn't laugh, he simply pushed her hand away this time. "Shhhh," He hissed, trying to quiet her for their teacher had finally figured out how to change the TV to a news channel.

'BREAKING NEWS!' Flashed across the screen in a bold, red font. Then the screen cut to a news anchor.

"We are live on the phone with one of the witnesses from the scene. Can you tell us what happened?" The female anchor demanded. A small telephone icon popped up and the voice the station identified as one Gerald Bolar, a lawyer and eyewitness on the scene in Las Vegas.

A deep rattling cough came loudly from the line.

"Sir?" The anchor questioned.

"Ah'm here," A deep voice thick with a southern accent replied. "I, I saw the whole thang. Some jet, I dunno what size – just some big hummer by Boeing was landin' in the airport. Mah wife and me could see it from our hotel room. We was standin' out on the balcony plannin' out the rest of our little vacation, when suddenly the thang just dang blew apart. Like a mailbox after a few of them hooligans have tinkered with it." Gerald paused. Then sighed. "Lord, it was horrible. Chunks of it went flyin' all which way, as if possessed! And the screams…" He trailed off.

The anchorwoman sadly shook her head. "What do you have to say to the rumors that this was caused by mutants?"

There was a pause on the line. "Ah'm sorry missy, but I've got to go," Gerald Bolar said, and quickly hung up.

Looking startled, the anchorwoman hesitated. Obviously there was nothing on the cue cards for being hung up on. "Well, then," She said, stalling. "Incase your just now joining us, at about 11:13 this morning, a Boeing 767 unexpectedly exploded nearly directly over the Las Vegas Strip. At this point, the casualty count is still unconfirmed, but we have rough estimates of a minimum two-hundred sixty dead, with an unknown number of injuries." The anchorwoman paused, bringing her finger up to her earpiece, listening in. Snapping out of it, she quickly returned her attention to the camera. "This just in…FBI investigators are saying these attacks were carried out by a rogue terrorist cell – one composed mainly of mutants. We expect a message from the president shortly…"

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Elsewhere…

Cocky, Sadira Rashmeed strode into her employer's office. She was fashionably clad in bright, abstract colors, and skin tight pants. She wore the usual over-sized style of sunglasses; her long mocha colored hair styled glamorously.

She walked with a model's grace over to his desk, leaning far over. "Was that big enough?" She asked coyly.

The man gave a halfhearted spin of his chair, with a thoughtful look. "That was…wonderful." He said, standing up and moving over to the nearest wall. "Sadi," He began, pausing to remove a large, 19th century-style painting off the wall, revealing a silver safe. He fumbled with a combination momentarily, then opened it up to withdraw a nice, Italian leather briefcase. "You and your brother will never cease to amaze." He declared, handing over the briefcase.

With a smile she took it.

Appearing lost in thought, the man sat back down behind his desk. Sadira turned to leave. "Wait," He called, gesturing for her to come back.

She obeyed, looking curious. But when he looked closer, there was an edge – quite unusual; anxiousness in Sadi…

"Do you, do you remember that night we met?" He asked slowly, reminiscing.

Sadira's jaw dropped a half-inch. "The, night we met?" She questioned.

He nodded.

"Is that really important?"

"Answer me, dear." He said standing up.

Looking unsure, then the next second decisive, He watched, as the skin on her cheek seemed to ripple.

She never saw the bullet that killed her.

He walked out from behind the desk, wiping the glove's handle off with his shirt's hemline. He crouched next to her body and carefully positioned the gun in her hands.

"Imposter," He spat. Standing up and quietly leaving.

Hours later, The man's office was a crime scene. He'd been interviewed several times, each time he gave the same heartfelt story. His old friend, a younger sister of a college mate had burst into his office threatening suicide. He'd tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen. No, instead she rambled on about them damn mutants, until she finally pulled the trigger on herself…

That night, the man walked cheerfully away from his office building. He was making advances.