Unknown to Brian or any of the other prisoners, these helicopters held some very precious cargo. These ordinary military helicopters contained the still forms of three of the most infamous mutants known to humanity; Eric Magnus Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, and Raven Darkholme. Of course, there wasn't too much worry about the latter of the three, for she was most obviously the weakest. If awakened, Lehnsherr or Xavier could tear this camp apart with out so much as the batting of a single eyelash. Everyone knew this and everyone was both terrified and thrilled at the mere thought.

The captain of the helicopter was glad to be almost done with this kamikaze mission. He and his copilot had transferred on as the replacement pilots down in Houston, so they were just starting to get tired.

The pilot leaned forward slightly to get a clearer view of the wing-walker below him. This was completely unnecessary, but no expense was being spared.

Moments later the first helicopter was safely on the ground. In a sudden rush, a flow of men clad in SWAT uniforms rushed forward, hastily trying to enter the helicopter. Before the pilot knew what was happening, he could see a sheet covered body being propelled through the swarm. As the other helicopters landed, similar things happened with each one. The pilot slowly sat back in his seat as he watched the anxious task force work disappear underground. As he sat watching a middle-aged man came running towards them, hands clamped to head to hold his hat in place. He wasn't doing a very good job.

As soon as he was close enough, he began waving his free arm and yelling for them to take off. The pilot faked he couldn't hear. The man came slowly closer, repeating for them to turn back.

"What?" The pilot yelled, gesturing with the radio. The men realized his error and quickly backed away as he fished a small pocket radio from his coat.

"Go back to Denver, Houston wherever!" The man shouted with a static filled voice over the radio.

"Why?" The pilot questioned. This wasn't in the arrangements.

"Trust me. You will get your money once you land. Just radio us where you're going." The man replied with a staccato voice.

The pilot exchanged a look with his weary copilot before nodding towards the desperate man. With that they began the take off procedure as the man proceed to run away.

_______________________________________________

"Easy! Easy!" One of the anonymous doctors screeched. The limp, pale body of Xavier was being fitted in his cell. The 'cell' was more of a hollow sphere, a suggestion found in the notes of Stryker's.

Xavier was to be laid down on an elevated table in the center of the room. His disability would prevent him from laving with minimal security measures. Once the lab completed Serum 128 (AKA Stryker's Serum), everything would go smoother than ever imagined.

"Okay…Okay…There! Perfect! … For goodness sake STOP!" The tense doctor yelled, madly waving his arms. The doctor peered over to check on the systems, then when their sight was satisfactory, he turned and began to usher everyone out.

They were almost finished. They had secured Magneto first, for if he woke up he'd destroy everything in sight and then ask questions. Xavier on the other hand would try to make peace with them, so they were much safer in the hands of a pacifist than those of an insane racist. With Xavier now secured, all that remained was Darkholme.

The doctor, followed by a large entourage of military personnel, quickly strode down a long highway in a hurry to get back to the unconscious body of the shadowy Mystique. There shouldn't have been any problems in guarding her but… Oh what did he have to worry? The amount of sedatives the mutant had been given was enough to knock out an African elephant!

With that thought, he confidently approached the small circle of guards surrounding the stretcher. He gave a nod to them and gestured for them to continue towards the next cell.

The clatter of many boots on the concrete gave him an odd but reassured feeling. Just one more drop off and he was home free.

The group came to a stop and proceeded to part as the doctor made his way over to the stretcher as the lead officer opened the cell door.

"Alrighty, milady," The doctor said purely for effect as he approached the stretcher. "Here we go," He said as he pulled back the sheet. A gasp went through the group and the doctor froze in horror. Under the sheet lay a deceased private, still fully clothed in the SWAT style uniform.

"Shit," The doctor breathed. "Shit!" He yelled, repeating his previous statement. He spun around, wildly looking to each of the surrounding personnel with a panic-stricken face. There…There was no way to tell, no way to find her! Heck, she could be long gone by now.

Coming slowly back to his senses, The doctor withdrew his pocket radio.

"We've got a problem," He began.

_________________________________________________

"Lieutenant Bob H. Ewell." The bored guard read off the man's license. "Where'd ya say you was going?"

The young lieutenant smiled kindly at the attendant. "Down to California, Sir. My mother…" He paused, looking down. "She passed away this morning. Need to go back home for the weekend." When he looked up, tears were beginning to well in his eyes.

With a sigh, the attendant handed him back his wallet and ID. "Have a nice trip sir. Sorry 'bout your mother."

The lieutenant gave a forced smile. "Thank you, Sir." He said before driving away.

Once he was several hundred yards away and the lights from the guard station hand long ago faded, the Lieutenant's eyes slowly changed from their honey brown to a bright yellow.

As the car entered onto the empty highway, it cruised a while before it came to a green sign. It read 'EXIT 113 – SAN FRANSICO" and directly below that hung another sign that read "EXIT 116 – VANCOUVER"

The car took the latter exit.