There weren't many people at the bus terminal this time of night, and that, thought Jesse, was a mixed blessing. It meant fewer people for him to scan for the four men who were chasing him, but a smaller crowd to hold them back if it turned to trouble. And that was assuming that the four men cared about keeping a low profile while shooting Jesse. Elena carried Nicky in her arms, and Jesse slung the diaper bag with all the money over his shoulder, guiding her to a bench to sit. If worse came to worst, he'd draw their fire away from Elena and Nicky so that the pair could escape unharmed. Elena had a scarf over her dark hair that partially covered her face. Anyone coming into the terminal would have to look closely to identify her; they should be safe from both the unknown gunmen and her soon-to-be-ex.
"Wait here," Jesse directed, taking a few bills from the diaper bag. "I'm going to get tickets for you and Nicky. Don't talk to anybody, don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."
Elena nodded, scared but still game. Jesse walked off to the ticket counter, eyeing the board to determine the best route to give her. Direct was out of the question. Kruger would track her down too easily. He finally settled on a circuitous set of busses that would confuse Kruger but hopefully not be too long for little Nicky to handle. It wasn't easy, thinking in terms of how to handle an infant. It was an uncomfortably responsible feeling. Was this what marriage would be like, being responsible for another person? Jesse wondered if he'd ever be ready, given the life he led. He gave his attention to moving forward in line, waiting to talk to the ticket agent.
A man sat down on the other end of the bench, ruffling a newspaper into submission in front of him and settling in to read. Elena and he exchanged polite glances, then looked away and pretended to boredom. Nicky stirred, and Elena shifted him to her other shoulder. The child wakened further, and nuzzled her shoulder, feeling safe knowing his mother was holding him.
Elena stared around her, wondering if this really was the beginning of her new life. She had longed for it for so long, planned to escape even if Jesse hadn't offered his help in response to their mutual friend's plea. Elena hadn't seen Jesse in over ten years, not since they were children, but still Jesse Kilmartin had remembered, and been there for her. Elena had had no idea how she would have accomplished her getaway had Jesse not come forward, but the question was now moot. She was free, free to begin a new life with her son. There wouldn't be the luxuries that her husband could provide, but the one necessity that Raymond didn't offer it all worthwhile: self-respect.
She could even look at other men without fearing Raymond's anger. Not right away; Elena wanted a bit of time to have to herself first. But looking was no longer punishable by a backhanded blow, or by being locked into the bedroom to await her husband's rage. Or his taunts of the other women he'd been with.
She could look at this man sitting on the bench beside her, although good manners demanded that she be discreet lest her interest be taken more seriously than she intended. He reminded her of Jesse, though not as tall. But he had the same general physique, the same broad shoulders and sandy-colored hair. Not the same eyes, though. No, these eyes were icy blue, and distrustful, with facial lines that pulled the mouth down. This was a man who was angry with the world. She recognized that look from dealing for too long with her husband. She turned away, rearranging Nicky's blankets that were wrapped around him. He cooed up at her, giving a big smile that never failed to win one back. Elena smiled automatically—she couldn't help it, he looked so wonderful lying there—and shifted to scan the rest of the people in the bus terminal.
Which is why she didn't see little Nicky go into action.
With the innocence of an infant who didn't know what he was doing, Nicky saw the shiny blue plastic of a computer disk peeping out of the pocket of the man on the other end of the disk. Nicky wanted it, to touch it, to feel it, to stick it into his mouth and taste it. He didn't know that he wasn't supposed to manifest his mutant telekinetic abilities until later, much later, when adolescence struck. The disk floated free of the man's pocket and over to Nicky.
Unfortunately, Nicky's control was far from perfect. The disk almost made it to his tiny fist, but dropped and slid down between his blanket and the coat that he was wearing. Nicky, deprived of his anticipated toy, reacted in the usual fashion: he cried, loudly and distinctively.
Elena instinctively picked her son up and cuddled him. The sobbing stopped, and the toy was forgotten with the fickleness of an infant: out of sight, out of mind. Elena felt something hard inside the blankets, and started to reach for it, to determine what it was that had distressed Nicky.
Then Elena suddenly stiffened; she saw someone that she hoped never to ever see again in her life. Raymond Kruger strode into the bus terminal, scanning the territory as though looking for someone. Elena had no doubt as to whom he was searching for. How had he known that she was here? His underworld contacts, no doubt. Kruger would use anyone and anything in his possession to get his way, and especially with his errant wife and child.
Calm; perhaps he hadn't seen her yet. Elena gathered up Nicky's belongings, clutched the boy to her chest, and walked swiftly away. She tried not to break into a run. To do so would be to attract unwanted attention. Elena needed to stay undetectable. She adjusted the scarf around her hair to further heighten the illusion that it was not her. She chanced a look around; where was Jesse?
She had lost sight of Jesse but she had no choice. To keep Nicky safe she would have to be invisible. Jesse would find her. He would search through the bus terminal, certain that she wouldn't leave without saying good-bye. Beside, he had the bus tickets. Elena couldn't leave without meeting him one last time. Elena headed away, anywhere away, down the concrete corridors to where it grew dark and dim, the part of the bus terminal no longer in common usage. The man she despised wouldn't notice her there, she hoped.
Kruger spotted the man he was looking for, and advanced on him. Taking a seat next to him on the waiting bench, he pulled up a case.
"I'm prepared," he murmured quietly, carefully not looking directly at his quarry. "Are you?"
"Of course." Dusty Brightman stuck his hand into his pocket. To his credit, not a muscle betrayed his dismay. There was nothing there. He felt again; the disk was not in his pocket. He thrust his other hand in the other side pocket: still nothing. Where the hell had the computer disk gone?
Dusty covered swiftly. "But not here," he said. "Too public. Too many people could be watching." He indicated the group of two attractive women and their tall escort who walked in. The three paused and scanned their surroundings. "Like them. Who knows who they could be?"
"You've been watching too many episodes of the Sopranos," Kruger grunted. "Those are normal people, here to take a bus trip. Maybe pick somebody up."
"No, they're not." Dusty recognized the type, if not exactly who they were. "They're looking around too much. They're looking for someone. They're not here to take a bus trip." He started to get nervous. Were they here to get him? Dusty hadn't had too much experience with organizations who were out to get mutants but what little he had convinced him that staying out of their way was in his best interests. A heightened sense of self-preservation had served him well more than once. This particular caper was higher profile than he liked to maintain, and it made him nervous. It was time to get the money and disappear, disk or no disk.
Kruger eyed the trio. One was a cute little blonde, tiny little waist, just the way he liked 'em. That blonde, she had to be stupid; or, if she were smart, then she'd be smart enough to act dumb. The other, good-looking but too brainy. Kruger didn't trust women with brains. They got ideas. Look at his wife; she started getting ideas about starting up her own business, like he didn't keep her in enough luxuries. Never satisfied, that one. At least she gave him a kid, and a boy at that. After this thing was over, he'd fix her but good. No more whining.
The man looked like trouble. Anyone that big, that much in shape, would give Kruger a hard time if he gave him the chance. Those arms looked like they'd have the range and the muscles to reach where Kruger didn't want 'em to.
But Dusty was right, these weren't kids here to buy bus tickets. They were looking for someone. Possibly the man sitting beside him? It wouldn't be the first time that people had brought trouble to Kruger. But for those three, it would be the last. Kruger made his reputation by being tougher than anyone else around. With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for his four bodyguards to move in.
Brennan scanned the bus terminal. "Where is he?" he asked rhetorically, as if the other two weren't looking as hard as he was. "Anybody see Jesse?"
"No, but I do see four low-life's walking purposefully toward us," Shalimar replied. "Anyone you know, Brennan?"
"Nope. Not me. Not this time. Lexa?"
"The people out to get me have better taste in clothes," Lexa sniffed. "I don't suppose they're simply four men late for an appointment somewhere across town?"
"Do they look like they'd care about being late?"
Brennan sighed. "I suppose we'd better spread out."
Brennan was the one who got to duck under the first punch. It wasn't hard; he was ready for it, and followed up with a quick jab to the sweet spot. The man went down hard. The elderly lady with a petit point valise by her ankles who had been admiring the young man with the lovely physique, shrieked loudly enough to be heard throughout the entire terminal.
That was the signal for everyone to notice the melee: more shrieks and screams, many people running away, dragging overstuffed suitcases and children behind them. Three little boys were shuffled out by a harried mother telling them no, you can't watch the ninjas.
Dusty Brightman rolled his eyes at the other man seated on the bench beside him. The meaning was clear: can't take you anyplace. Trust Kruger to turn a simple exchange of goods into a three block riot. "Look, you want this disk, or not?" he demanded, glossing over the fact that he no longer had it in his possession.
"Give it to me," Kruger told him. "I've got the money right here."
"Not so fast, you idiot, you want people to see us?" Dusty hissed. "I'm gonna go over to that bunch of lockers there, see? I'm gonna put the disk inside. You do the same with the money. We exchange keys in the men's room. Then we walk out of here, and nobody knows what happened." He stood up. "Wait for a few minutes. Don't make it look like we're together."
"Nobody's watching us, genius," was Kruger's response. "They're all watching the fight."
Which was almost over. Mindful of the onlookers, Shalimar declined to bounce off of the wall as she would usually do and instead settled for a high kick to her opponent's head. The next kick to his head was aimed considerably lower, occasioned by his helpful semi-conscious slide to the floor. The man's head went from being at waist level to being at floor level.
Lexa didn't have time to play around with the nice goon. She took him out with a single uppercut and mowed right along. Scandalized parents dragged impressionable daughters away, cautioning them that such behavior was unacceptable if one wanted to find a nice husband. Lexa ignored them; such behavior was perfectly acceptable if one wanted to stay alive.
Brennan finished with the last two and stood up, shaking the pain from his fist. One had had a hard jaw. "I still don't see Jesse," he said worriedly.
"I do," Lexa said. "He's over by the lockers, putting something inside. Let's go get him before the Back-Up Squad makes an appearance. Jesse," she called urgently.
Dusty looked around. He couldn't hear the words, but a pretty brunette that he'd never seen before in his life was clearly calling to him. Normally that would be a good thing, but right now probably not. In fact, this whole operation was headed down the toilet. He aimed for the men's room to make it look like he intended to meet Kruger there. Maybe he could still salvage something before everything got flushed for good. He grinned at his own wit; damn, but he was good at bathroom humor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kruger get up and start toward the wall of lockers. Good. Let's get this whole thing over and done with, so that Dusty could head out of town.
Jesse ambled back, tickets in hand. He had plenty of time; the bus wasn't scheduled to depart for another two hours. He scanned the benches, looking for Elena and Nicky.
A sinking feeling started near his throat and burned its way down his esophagus. He couldn't see the pair. What had happened to them? Elena wouldn't simply get up and leave. Something must have happened.
Something like a fight. Four scruffy-looking men picked themselves up off of the floor. One staggered, another tried to help, and they both ended up back on the dirty tiled floor.
Jesse leaped to the entirely correct conclusion that Kruger had arrived. How had he tracked Elena and Nicky down? Right now that didn't matter, and it did explain why he didn't see the pair. What was important was that Jesse find them and get them out of here before Kruger grabbed them.
There Kruger was, at the wall of lockers, stuffing a briefcase inside. There was something wrong with that, but Jesse didn't stop to consider all the details. Right now all he needed to see was that Elena and Nicky weren't with Kruger. He hadn't gotten to them yet, and Jesse intended to make certain that that didn't happen.
Where would Elena have gone with Nicky? Not out the front door, not with Kruger's goons there. She must have headed down to the departure terminal. Dark, dim, and an easy place to get out of sight. Jesse turned to follow.
"Jesse!"
Jesse whirled around. That was Lexa's voice. Good; reinforcements had arrived. He could set them to searching for Elena and Nicky as well.
Or he could if he could talk to them. His team mates were headed toward Kruger and the wall of lockers. He grinned; he'd bet that it was Lexa who cracked the protections he'd put on his personal e-mails to track him down. She was good, he'd have to give her that. Of course she came to the wrong conclusion about Elena and he but hey, couldn't be right all the time. Clearly they were going over to take out Kruger and prevent him from abducting Elena and Nicky.
"Over here," he called.
The three stopped dead in their tracks. Three heads swiveled around.
"Jesse?" Shalimar was the one to squeak it out.
Just as clearly Jesse had been wrong in his deduction. They were not here to help their fellow teammate by removing Elena's husband from contention. Then who had they been calling to? And more importantly, who were they after? If they weren't after Kruger, who had they called to?
"He's getting away," Lexa snarled, pointing at the short sandy-haired man walking away from the wall of lockers toward the men's room. "After him! He has the disk!" She took off after Dusty. After a moment's hesitation, Shalimar and Brennan followed, motioning for Jesse to hustle along.
Right. The unknown they were chasing had nothing to do with Elena, and that was where Jesse's responsibility lay. He'd catch up with them later. He advanced on Kruger who was swiftly striding off toward the departure gates—and Elena.
Dusty took one frantic look over his shoulder and spotted Lexa, Brennan, and Shalimar in hot pursuit. He didn't know why the trio was chasing him—he didn't know who or what they were—but he had a well-developed sense of self-preservation based on years of operating on the skinny side of the law. He darted behind the wall of lockers, estimated which locker that Kruger had put the briefcase into, and put his hand onto the back edge.
Not much time. Dusty exhaled, his eyes going hooded. The back of the locker wavered, shifted, and then crumbled into its constituent parts. Dust wafted to the floor. Dusty reached into the back of the locker to pull out the briefcase that had been in Kruger's possession. Good; got it. Now it was time to boogie. He turned to find Mutant X in front of him.
Lexa confronted him. "Hand it over." Brennan and Shalimar flanked her, solid back up.
"Not a chance, bitch," Dusty snarled. "This is mine!" He held up the briefcase. "You don't want to mess with me."
"I don't care about the money," Lexa said. Brennan winced. "All we want is the disk."
Dusty grinned evilly. "Sorry, doll. Don't have it."
"You gave it to Kruger?"
Dusty grinned some more. "You wish. I lost it. Slipped out of my pocket. Gone for good."
"You'd better hope that's not true." Lexa knew more how true it had better not be. If the disk had vanished, the Back-Up Squad would come in and wipe out every man, woman, and child in this terminal to make certain that it didn't fall into the wrong hands.
"Better question, doll: ask me if I care." Dusty held up the briefcase. "I'm history, guys. And if you know what's good for you, you won't follow."
Brennan and Shalimar widened the circle, enclosing Dusty inside, trapping him against the back side of the wall of lockers.
"You're not getting out of this so easily," Brennan warned.
But Dusty wasn't cowed. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He wiggled his fingers. "More deadly than karate."
"Really." Brennan wasn't impressed. He chanced a quick look around; no one could see them. "More deadly than this?" He twisted several thousands volts of electricity between his fingers. With a flash of light he threw the lightning bolt at Dusty. It bowled the mutant off of his feet, the briefcase flying. But what made it worthwhile for Brennan was the look of utter astonishment on Dusty's face as he hit the floor.
Brennan stood over him and picked up the suitcase, grinning. "What, you thought you were the only mutant around?"
* * *
Jesse padded off determinedly in the direction of the departure gates after Kruger. There was precious little other place to go for Elena, and Kruger was close to catching her. The others of Mutant X had seen Jesse; they would follow as soon as they'd finished with whatever tune Lexa had them dancing to. Jesse felt a moment's flash of annoyance with Lexa and the Dominion. He wished the light elemental would make up her mind as to where her loyalties lay: with Mutant X, or with the Dominion. Then he sobered. Lexa had made it very plain; the Dominion owned her.
The tunnels got deeper and darker. This part of the terminal was rarely used; cutbacks in service meant fewer busses, and the remaining departures all took place on the upper levels. The concrete block walls looked drab and dingy and in desperate need of a fresh coat of gray paint. Jesse squared his jaw. This would be exactly the place that Elena would head for: someplace silent and out of the way, where she could hide and not be seen. He considered calling out to her; no, Kruger would hear him. And Elena, if she called back. No, better to move silently himself.
He glanced down at the floor, hoping to see footprints in the dust. There they were, two sets of them, one small and dainty and the other large with the clear imprint of the heel of a man's shoe overlapping it. He hastened his stride.
Kruger saw a small woman and her child in front of him, scurrying ahead along his planned escape route. He grimaced. Someone would see him. Not good; it was time to escape from this fiasco. He'd lost the money, Dusty Brightman was nowhere in sight, he didn't have the computer disk, and he'd lost his temper as well. And now he was about to lose his anonymity, thanks to that witness in front of him. Probably an old woman with that scarf over her head, even with a kid in her arms. Maybe a grandkid, or something. Didn't matter; she was a witness that he was here.
Not for long. Time to cut his losses. He'd make it up on another deal, though it would be tough. This would have been such a sweet deal, with a wealthy buyer waiting with the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. He'd already made plans for some of the money: invest some for little Nicky's college fund—never could start too early, and he could use a kid with a head for business in today's world whose loyalty to family would be unquestionable—and another chunk on a big diamond necklace for his mistress. Man's gotta cover all his bases, he thought, stuff for now and stuff for the future. He drew his gun, ready to remove the witness from her ability to place him at the scene. He took aim.
Jesse saw Kruger pull out his gun, ready to fire. He froze in horror; there was no possible chance for him to dart in front and mass to deflect the bullet. Kruger was too far in front. All he could do was to yell: "Elena!"
Elena's head whipped around in terror at the fear in Jesse's voice. Seeing Raymond Kruger pointing a gun at her with Nicky in her arms, she jumped to the entirely warranted yet erroneous conclusion that her husband had followed her here and was about to take revenge for his abandonment. The only thought she could muster was the frantic concept that Nicky mustn't be hurt. She turned to flee.
Kruger, for his part, dropped his jaw in astonishment. Of all the people in the world he expected to see at the bus terminal in the abandoned part of the garage, his wife and infant son were not among them. He lowered his gun, trying desperately for some understanding.
"Elena!"
Kruger heard Jesse call out. Understanding, however misconstrued, occurred: his wife was running away with another man—taking Kruger's son with them!—and that man was Dusty Brightman. No wonder Brightman insisted on the meet here at this terminal. How long had their affair been going on under his nose? He'd kill them both! He took aim at the man he thought was Dusty Brightman.
Shots rang out. Jesse had just enough time to phase to insubstantial. The bullet passed through him and bounced harmlessly off the concrete wall, chipping away at the fading graffiti to turn 'SANDY LOVES BOB' into 'ANDY LOVES BOB'. Jesse hoped that neither Sandy nor Bob were especially homophobic, or that they at least possessed a sense of humor for clearly Kruger did not.
Wait a minute—several shots had rung out. Only one passed through Jesse. Where did the rest go? And more importantly, where did they come from?
The Back-Up Squad entered the arena, carrying rifles that looked bigger and meaner than anything Jesse had ever seen. One of the four carried a small black box like a Geiger counter, swinging it to and fro, centering on something emitting a tracking signal. Jesse cursed himself; how could he have been so foolish? The money back at Sanctuary, the money that Elena had given him to hold for her that he'd hastily picked up and escaped just ahead of the team: it had been tampered with to send out a homing signal. The Squad was hoping to track Jesse to the computer disk that Lexa had kept babbling about, not realizing that they had the wrong mutant. And now Elena had the money, and the Back-Up Squad was going to kill her, thinking that she had it along with the money.
Little Nicky squalled. His tooth was hurting, the one that was trying to erupt into his mouth. His mother pulled out the hard plastic blue thing that had gotten into his blanket, and he chewed on it contently, trying to gum the discomfort away.
"Elena, run!" Jesse yelled. He stretched out into a full-fledged gallop, barreling toward both Kruger and the Back-Up Squad. He had a chance against them; Elena, a mere human, had none. Elena ran, Nicky screeching in her arms.
Kruger's gun misfired. It blew apart in his hand. He howled in pain and betrayal—"stupid piece of crap metal. Should' a bought American stuff instead of overseas tinfoil"—and threw it away from him.
That didn't do him any good. Following their mandate of a Scorched Earth Policy the Back-Up Squad did their best to leave no man standing. Three of the four guns trained on Kruger and fired as one. The bonus was that Kruger had already destroyed his own weapon and couldn't shoot back. Kruger jerked as several rounds plowed through him. He tottered three steps, held out his hand to his terrified wife and child, and crumbled to the cold concrete floor.
The Back-Up Squad turned on the one carrying the tracer signal: Elena, and four month old Nicky. They aimed their guns. Elena froze. There was nowhere to go, no place to hide.
"Hey. Pick on someone your own size."
A bolt of lethal electricity careened across the cavernous garage, knocking one of the gunmen off of his feet and into the wall.
Normally a jolt like that would have removed the combatant from the action for days, if not weeks. Brennan Mulray started preparing another shot to take out the next member of the Back-Up Squad from a distance.
But the first was no ordinary man, armed with more than ordinary equipment. He picked himself up off the floor, almost casually dusting himself off, and swung his gun into position with super-human speed and accuracy. Brennan yelped in dismay, only barely dodging the return shot.
"He's grounded," Lexa tossed off over her shoulder, fading into deadly invisibility. "They all are."
Grounded? That meant that the Back-Up Squad knew exactly who, and what, they were dealing with. Okay, Brennan could live with that. No mutant powers for this fight. Hand to hand only.
If only he could get close enough. The man that he'd blasted against the wall peppered the ground in front of the mutant with deadly fire, kicking up dust. Brennan shoulder-rolled to the side to escape the lethal hail of bullets, dodging behind a thick pillar doing its best to hold the ceiling up. The sound of gunfire echoed loudly above Elena's screams and Nicky's frightened wails.
Lexa moved in. Back-Up Squad member number two adjusted his goggles. Oops, she thought. So much for being invisible. Lexa dove behind Brennan's column, barreling into him. Shots followed her in with little pellets of concrete floor being knocked loose by the gunfire. Brennan grabbed Lexa to keep her from skidding back out into the open.
"Thanks," she gasped.
"These guys are good," Brennan returned grimly.
"That's what I told you when this whole thing started."
Shalimar had the best luck of any of them. Seeing her teammates' lack of success, Shalimar approached the Back-Up Squad in a round-about fashion, jumping from spot to spot too fast for any human to follow.
Any single human, yes. But the Back-Up Squad had trained for such antics, and used teamwork. One shot at Shalimar. She jumped away, only to find two others tracking her and anticipating which way she would jump. If one missed, the other might not. And they were coming awfully close. Shalimar joined the other two behind the column; it was getting crowded.
"All right, I'm open to suggestions," Shalimar grumbled.
"Jesse got us into this," Lexa returned. "He should get us out of it."
"He didn't do anything," Shalimar protested.
"He ran," Lexa snarled. "If he hadn't run, I wouldn't have thought that he robbed the bank and started this whole mess."
"He didn't run. He went to help that woman," Shalimar pointed out.
"Details, details."
The Back-Up Squad had turned their attention to the remaining member of Mutant X. Jesse had finally arrived in front of Elena, massing at intervals to deflect the lethal projectiles being hurled at them both. The Back-Up Squad continued to fire patiently, certain that eventually one or more bullet would find its mark. The four black-suited men spread out, opening the range of their fire.
Things looked desperate. Jesse cast around for a way out; there was nothing but concrete wall behind them. Elena clung to him, little Nicky clasped between them, howling and screaming in terror.
There were precious few options. Summoning all of his strength, Jesse placed his hand on the concrete wall and exhaled.
The wall faded.
Seeing their chance, the rest of Mutant X dashed to their teammate. Pushing Elena ahead of them, they whooshed through Jesse and the wall almost as one. With his last effort, Jesse followed them through the opening he'd created, allowing the wall to solidify behind them. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.
It was only a temporary reprieve. The room was an employee break room long abandoned, a mere ten by ten area with only a dilapidated sofa against one wall as its only furnishing. The walls were the conventional gray cinderblocks now covered with dust and cobwebs from months of neglect. They were trapped; the only conventional exit led straight back out into the garage where the Back-Up Squad waited. Brennan paced off the dimensions of the small room. "Okay, guys, what do we do now?"
"Wait for them to get bored and go away?" Lexa's sarcastic rejoinder went unheeded. "That is so not going to happen. They'll blow the place up first."
Shalimar squatted beside Jesse and Elena. Jesse had crawled to a sitting position, recovering from the immense effort to open up six inches of solid concrete for several people to pass through. Elena huddled next to him, and Nicky had finally quieted down, looking around him with wonder and choking back the sobs. "And this is—?"
"Sorry." Jesse managed a little smile. "Elena Kruger, meet my friends: Shalimar Fox, Lexa Pierce, and Brennan Mulray."
"Hey," Shalimar greeted her. "Cute baby. Can I hold him?"
Elena was trying not to quake with fear. "Are you all like…?" She trailed off, not certain how to ask what she wanted to know without offending Shalimar.
"Like Jesse?" Shalimar flashed a white-toothed smile. "Yup. Not quite, but similar. Comes in handy sometimes. Like now."
Elena wasn't convinced. "Are we going to get out of this? Alive? Who are those people and why are they shooting at us?"
Brennan peeked out of the door, slamming it quickly when a shot almost slid through. It banged loudly on the metal, echoing and making them wince inside the small chamber. "Getting out alive? Sure thing. Wouldn't have it any other way," he said stoutly.
"Anybody got any bright ideas on how to accomplish it?" Lexa asked sourly. "Didn't I read somewhere about never letting yourself get bottled up with no way out?"
"I'm sorry," Elena started to say, when Jesse interrupted her.
"It's not as though we had a lot of choice here, Lexa. Or would you prefer to be outside, dodging bullets from your friends with the goggles that can see you coming and going?"
"And this is not your fault, Elena," Brennan added.
"But my husband—"
"Sheer coincidence that Jesse happens to look like the guy who stole the computer disk," Shalimar said firmly.
"Sheer coincidence that the guy got caught on tape in living color at the exact moment that Jesse was helping you to escape," Lexa grumbled under her breath. "Speaking of which, where is the afore-mentioned disk?" Her gaze lit on little Nicky. "What is that that he's chewing on?"
"This?" Elena took a closer look, her attention pulled to her child once again. "It's a piece of plastic—"
"No, it's not." Jesse rescued it from Nicky, wiping his hand on his shirt. Nicky howled in protest until his mother found a set of brightly colored plastic keys for him to chew on instead. "It's a computer disk." He looked at the others. "It couldn't be."
"Right color," Lexa said. "We won't know for certain until we stick it into a computer. But how did this kid get hold of it?"
Elena smiled weakly. "There was a man who sat on the bench next us in the main terminal. He looked quite a bit like Jesse. Could it have been your man?"
"Must have been," Brennan said. "Maybe he was afraid of being caught with it on him, and stuffed it into Nicky's blankets intending to pick it up later."
"Good theory. Let's find a way to test it," Lexa said. She struck a pose. "Oh, wait. We can't. We're stuck in here, waiting to get shot. Or blown up."
"Give it a rest, Lexa," Brennan advised. "Nobody, including Jesse and Elena, asked for this to happen. And nobody couldn't have predicted that this Dusty character would look so much like Jesse."
Three shots banged at the door. The metal dented. The Back-Up Squad had decided it was time to come knocking.
"Before they come in," Shalimar said in alarm. "Ideas, anyone?"
"How about if we toss the disk out?" Jesse had to shout to make himself heard over the din.
"They'll take it, and then kill us," Lexa told him through gritted teeth.
"And if this thing really does hold fate-of-the-world stuff, then I'm not too happy with the Dominion having sole possession of it," Brennan added. "Think of another plan. Preferably one that doesn't include dying."
"And make it fast—" Shalimar started to add.
Elena interrupted her. "The wall! Look! It's melting!"
It wasn't melting, it was phasing. Each member of Mutant X instantly recognized the quivering liquidity that preceded Jesse's gift being applied to a solid object. Only this time it wasn't Jesse—it was Dusty. The mutant on the outside was dusting the wall in order to get inside to get the disk. The massive concrete ceiling above them rumbled threateningly.
Jesse leapt to the wall, throwing his hands against the de-solidifying surface and exhaling. Instantly the texture tightened up, but only for a moment. It shifted back and forth as both moleculars applied their particular gifts, fighting for control over the concrete cinderblocks.
It was peculiar battle. It was conducted completely on the atomic level, with each man striving to wield control over molecular bonds, strengthening the bond here, destroying another there. The others could see the strain Jesse was exerting to keep their sole defense intact.
The Back-Up Squad intensified their efforts. Shots banged against the door almost constantly, setting up a din that had their ears ringing. Nicky added his howl to the noise, complaining about the racket.
"We've got to rush them!" Brennan said. "That's our only chance!"
"If Dusty doesn't get in soon, they'll be knocking down the door," Shalimar agreed at the top of her lungs. "And Jesse can't keep this up forever."
Lexa had to concur. "Shalimar, you open the door. Brennan, you and I will throw a couple of bolts. While they're reeling from those, we'll attack." She turned to shout at Elena, "after we're through the door, take your baby and run. Don't look back." She handed her the blue computer disk. "And take this with you. Don't let anybody know you have it, and wipe it clean with a magnet the first chance you get. Understand?" She didn't wait for an answer. The door was looking well-dented. It wouldn't last much longer.
"What about Jesse?" Shalimar asked.
"I heard." Jesse ground out, not giving in to Dusty outside. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "Get yourselves out. I'll follow as soon as I can." He didn't have to add that with the others gone there would be no need to continue the battle. Dusty would be welcome to send this little room into concrete dust. The concrete ceiling would fall in, but Jesse could phase in time to walk out unharmed. He hoped.
"On the count of three," Brennan shouted, so that they could hear him. "One—"
He never got to two. The door banged open, damaged beyond defensible. Shots rang out, ricocheting from wall to wall. Elena screamed. Brennan and Lexa loosed their respective bolts, both of which went over the heads of the crouching Back-Up Squad. The attack had been anticipated by their opponents. Nicky wailed, and Elena instinctively turned to shelter him with her body. Shalimar leapt to the attack, slamming one man back through the door with both feet. She bounced onto the floor, then back onto her feet for the rebound.
Brennan felt more than heard a bullet whistle through his hair. Close, he thought. Won't need a haircut on that side for another two weeks. He sent another bolt streaming through the door. It knocked one of the suited men back into next week, but—time flies when you're having fun. Next week is coming early this year. The man picked himself up and re-aimed his gun entirely too quickly for Brennan's comfort.
More bullets flew through the air. Lexa hit the ground, feeling little puffs of concrete dust flying up to occlude the view. Won't need my powers to stay invisible, she thought. Shrapnel will cover us up just fine. She scuttled to one side of the room to catch her breath and prepare another bolt of light.
A spray of bullets came in through the door. Elena screamed as one landed not two inches from Nicky, embedding itself in the mortar between the cinderblocks. To Brennan's eyes, the next one appeared to travel in slow motion. He could almost trace its path through the center of the room toward where Jesse and Dusty were still battling it out for possession of the wall. Bright red blood blossomed on the back of Jesse's shirt.
The molecular jerked in shock. He half-turned, his hands dropping away from the gray wall, his jaw opening in disbelief. His knees gave way; with a groan he slid to the floor.
"Jesse!" Brennan shouted, but his voice went unheard in the din. The wall instantly dusted itself to the floor, setting up a cloud of gray dirt swirling in the air.
The heavy concrete ceiling, bereft of a significant portion of its structural support, collapsed on top of them all.
Dusty waited only long enough for some of the dust to settle before wading in. He tossed some of the boulders aside, chunks of ceiling that now would only qualify as construction debris. A speck of blue caught his eye, clutched in a tiny hand. He pounced, and dragged the computer disk away. Like taking candy from a baby, he thought. The little hand set up a tiny high-pitched wail; Nicky wanted his teether back, even more so now that Mommy wasn't responding instantly to his cries for help. That tooth hurt!
Dusty didn't care. He had the disk. He didn't have a buyer, but he could find one. Those men in suits, for example. What else would they be here for? He held it up so that they could see as they approached through the settling dust clouds. "Hey, guys. Let's talk about a deal. You interested in a slightly used computer disk?"
Four guns blazed away. Dusty had his answer.
One of the Back-Up Squad picked up the blue disk from his unmoving hand, blowing on the plastic to clear it of the top layer of grime. He cast a glance over the rubble; no movement. He nodded to the others: job complete. Scorched Earth policy carried out. They walked away.
Not quite carried out. A rock moved, and a hand pushed its way out. Another chunk tumbled aside, and a tousled dark head picked himself up. He spotted the four men striding off, blue plastic disk in hand. His eyes narrowed.
"Hey, guys," he called out, half-crazy under the dirt. "You forgot something." A bolt of electricity shot out from his fingertips, and scored a direct hit on the blue computer disk. The man holding it yelped in sudden pain, dropping the now-slagged piece of plastic to the floor.
Good-bye, disk.
Four guns blazed out once again, and the dark head fell backwards into the pile of broken cinderblocks. Dust puffed up, and settled slowly in the now still air.