What, you thought it was over? You thought that this reckless piece of trash was finished? Well, not yet... Only a few more chapters to go, if not one.

I own deu nada, if that is how you spell it.

This'll be the only chapter for a while.

&&&&&&

Catherine Carradine rubbed her eyes in protest to the bright sunlight. She often found the sun too bright, but then again, she was one of life's constant complainers.

She got out of the old Cadillac uneasily, and winced slightly at the sudden rise in temperature. She really did not like hot summers. Gravel crunched beneath her as she walked up to the building site, carrying a small dossier with her.

The door to the 'gaffer's' office, as she always called them, was open to the outside air, giving a lazy orange glow to the interior. She knocked once, then walked in.

An ordinary-looking man was reading a local rag. He looked up at the sound of Catherine clearing her throat, and peered at her through his glasses theatrically. "Can I help you?"

She smiled briefly, sitting down on an offered chair. "Yes. I am here to see one of your workers on this site. It concerns a matter of grave, personal importance." She smiled again.

The man pursed his lips extravagantly. "Dear me. Whatever is the matter?"

"As I said. It's personal."

The man cleared his throat unsteadily. "Which person did you want to see, precisely?"

"A Mr. P McIllvanney." Catherine stated, reading it off from her notes. She looked back up at the man.

"McIllvanney... McIllvanney... oh yes, you mean the man from Georgia, yes?" Catherine nodded. "He's a good worker." The man continued. "I do hope there is nothing seriously wrong."

Get on with it, you old fool! She thought to herself, but said. "Do you know where I could find Mr. McIllvanney?"

"Today, I'd expect him to work at the South end of the construction site." The man turned to get a drink from a small refrigerator. "If you want to, I could call him ov-" he turned back to an empty room. He raised his eyebrows, then made a slightly disgruntled noise. "No sense of common decency at all..."

&&&&&&

McIllvanney paused his work, hearing his name being called from the far end of the site. He brushed a few errant hairs from his eyes, then turned to face the caller.

"I say again, is there a Mr. McIllvanney here?" The woman was of a normal build with pale skin. Her head was bare, but she did not seem to disguise that fact.

"Yeah. I'm McIllvanney." He said, walking towards her.

"Hey, McIllvanney, who's your boyfriend?" A mocking voice from a crowd crowed, and brief laughter followed the remark. McIllvanney ignored it, but the woman's jaw jutted out angrily.

"What do you need me for?" He asked, holding out his hand.

The woman ignored the gesture. "I'm afraid I have some personal information to tell you." She looked at the rest of the construction workers. "Is there anywhere on this site where we could have some privacy?"

McIllvanney rolled his eyes at the chorus of catcalls and jeers that arose from the previous comment. "Yeah, sure. Follow me."

&&&&&&

McIllvanney had lead the lady up to the top floor of the building. As it was so late in the day, it was pretty much abandoned. McIllvanney kicked out at some pigeons sending them fluttering away. The woman stood in front of him and opened the dossier she was holding.

"Mr. P McIllvanney, yes?" McIllvanney nodded. "Born in Savannah, Georgia to parents Richard McIllvanney and Teresa McIllvanney nee Archer?" Again, he nodded.

She flipped a page. "One sibling, a Ms. Mary McIllvanney, approximately thirteen years old... You have blonde hair, blue eyes, have a height of six feet six inches, a weight of two hundred and fifty-four pounds, you were educated at home, briefly joined the army, given a dishonourable discharge..." she trailed off and smiled at McIllvanney's confused expression. "As you can see, we have built up a considerable file on you, McIllvanney."

"Who's we?"

The woman waved her hand vaguely. "That's not important right now. What is important is what I have to offer you."

McIllvanney raised a hand. "First, can you tell me your name?"

The woman smiled. "You can call me Bosshog, if you want." She shuffled some more files in the dossier. "Now, onto the topic at hand... I know that this is not your favoured type of employment. You are more a man of action, hence your brief military career. I can offer you such employment."

McIllvanney raised an eyebrow. "Ordinarily, I'd ask why me? There are plenty of other better ex-soldiers and mercenaries out there who'd want some action and who are better behaved then I am. I was kicked out because my methods were considered too extreme."

"Yes, killing the officer who insulted your background may be considered slightly extremist in some circles..." The woman smiled sardonically. "It is because of your methods that you have been tracked down."

"Is it a government-based job?"

The woman's eyes went from one side to another. "You could interpret it that way..."

McIllvanney shrugged. "Well, if you wanted psychotic soldiers, employ some mass-murderer. I've paid my debt to America, now I expect it to pay me back. I'm not working for any G-man." He walked towards the staircase.

Bosshog's eyes hardened. "Fine. You were headhunted because we know you are different from other people."

McIllcvanney paused. "I beg your pardon, what did you say?" he asked quietly.

Bosshog returned to the dossier. "Back in when you were in eighth grade, you got into a fight with a small gang of thugs. Even though you were outnumbered six-to-one, with them armed with weapons ranging from pipes to knives, you managed to hospitalise all of them. All of them suffered some sort of breakage to the bones, three of them received, and I quote, 'serious brain damage'. One has remained in a coma ever since the accident..." She trailed off, then raised an eyebrow at McIllvanney. "Have I missed anything?"

His eyes thinned. "No. What's your point?"

"I know for a fact that there is something different about you. I know that you know it, but you don't wish it to be known. I also know..." she took a step towards him, "...that such skills are in demand. The people I represent are very interested in a man of your talents, McIllvanney."

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to refuse." McIllvanney snapped curtly, then turned back to the staircase. Bosshog grabbed his shoulder, trying to stop him. McIllvanney spun, lunging out with a fist. She dodged it, then grabbed McIllvanney under his chin, lifted him off of the ground, then slammed him into the floor so hard that he left an indentation.

Her knee stabbed painfully into his back, his right arm was twisted behind his back painfully and he was pushed into the floor mercilessly. "Don't think that just because I don't have your brawn or muscles I am the weaker of us." She hissed into his ear. "As you can see, I also have such abilities, but I am not afraid to use them. I do not hide them in fear of what I am." She twisted his arm some more and leaned in closer. "This is the freedom I offer you. Don't throw it away."

McIllvanney tried to push away from the ground, but Bosshog returned the favour. God, what a fighter! He thought. He shifted his head his face was not scraping against the floor. "How do I know I can trust you?" he grunted.

"You have my word as someone who understands your situation." She smiled. "Do we have a deal?"

McIllvanney nodded breathlessly. Bosshog released him from her grip, then pulled him up single-handedly. He swung out with his fist again. Bosshog ducked the blow, then kicked him into a pillar.

"That's the type of thinking I'm looking for, McIllvanney." She said, pulling him out of the building. "However, if you try that trick on me again, I will kill you." She stared at him levelly. "Are we clear on this?"

McIllvanney nodded breathlessly, then winced at the sensation of his wounds closing. Despite the fact that it made him practically invulnerable, it did not stop it from being extraordinarily painful.

Bosshog stared at the shrinking lesions on McIllvanney's skin. Yes, that's the type of person I can use, she thought. A muscle-minded tank-brain. A thug and a murderer who doesn't ask; why am I here, rather; what do I do now? She smiled at the thought, and passed him a handkerchief to wipe the blood off of his face.

"So what is this?"

The bald woman turned and smiled at him wanly. "'This' is a small group of elite personnel used to target and eliminate certain..." she paused, "...elements within this country. We are a highly secretive and strategic group used in conjunction with military operations, among other things."

McIllvanney tipped his head to one side. "You mean an anti- terrorist squad?"

The woman pursed her lips. "More or less, more or less." She mimicked his head movement. "Do we have a deal?"

McIllvanney sniffed, then shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

Bosshog smiled. "Most excellent. If you'd care to follow me..." she indicated the stairway.

"What about my two week notice?"

"It's already being dealt with..."

&&&&&&

Whistler stopped the van, and made a low theatrical moan. "Looks like we were too late, Bosshog." He turned and shook the woman awake. "This has the Road Virus's hand all over it."

Bosshog opened her eyes to the wreckage of the Bayville playing field. "Destroyed property... damaged buildings... yeah, that looks like his work." She got out, and walked towards the scene. "Whistler, Rosemary, get out and search for our three lost lambs, will you?"

She walked to the car park end of the field, hearing the other two mutants get out of the van and start searching. Thankfully the police did not appear to be here. She didn't want to start this day with reckless slaughter. For one thing she was running low on cleaning tablets.

A brief gust of wind blew across the field, sending some light weight garbage flying around the grass. She chewed on her lower lip and thought.

Rosemary's shout startled her from her reverie. Bosshog jogged over to where the red-haired girl was. At her feet was McIllvanney, lying face- down on the ground.

Whistler ran up. "Is he dead?"

"Don't be dense, Whistler." Rosemary snapped. "He's not dead. You know as well as I do he can't die."

Bosshog pulled a face. "Well, he can die, but only if he is in separate pieces." She picked him up and flung him over her shoulder. "Come on. Let's head back to the van. People are going to swarming here soon, I want us to be nowhere near here when that happens."

Whistler put on an injured expression, but followed her. Rosemary looked around at the area before joining the other two.

"So, what do we do now, Boss?" Rosemary asked as they entered the van and drove off. "We're back to square one, in case you haven't notice-"

"I am well aware of that fact, Mary..." Bosshog muttered, controlling her temper. If only Piter were here, she thought in annoyance. He would be able to see the hidden strategies here...

"Why was McIllvanney here?" She asked aloud. "To what possible advantage could he have to stage a fight?"

These are the types of questions I must ask. The answers to these will help me find the other lost lambs...

"I know that McIllvanney was a single-minded fool. He wouldn't get distracted by anything. So, why was he here?"

"We could ask him when he awakes from the healing suspension." Whistler suggested.

Bosshog shook her head. "He wouldn't say. That's another thing I know about him. He'll keep his mouth shut. No..." she muttered. "To get the answers here, I need to do some deduction on my part."

He came to kill those two boys. Piter would feel 'duty-bound' to fight him one-on-one despite what I taught him about cheating... Dean would try to trick him, but how? Dean did not have the subtlety of Piter, and Piter would hear nothing of arranging a trick. Therefore, that wreck was a result of Dean's meddling.

She ran her fingers over her skull. I know that Dean would stick close to Piter, so if Dean is here, so is Piter... But where?

There was a brief squeaking sound from Sneaky. "He says he's bored." Whistler translated. "He wants the radio to be put on. That OK?"

Bosshog nodded absently. Where? It would be a place where there would be adequate protection, but secluded. Where in this place is there such a housing?

"Aw, turn the channel already." Rosemary snapped. "It's that damn Kelly guy." She leaned to change the station, only to be blocked by Bosshog's hand. "Hold on."

"-I say again as a citizen concerned about the safety of other law- abiding citizens, that these mutants are quite frankly, a danger." The man continued. "All the times that we have encountered these menaces, they have caused untold damage, either to public or government property." Probably a Republican, Bosshog thought. "A prime example can be found in the suburb of Bayville at the Xavier Institue, where already four new mutants have arrived to add to the ch-" Bosshog switched the radio off.

She smiled slowly. Serendipity, she thought. I love it so much. She turned to the passengers. "How would you feel about having a home here for a while?"

Rosemary crinkled her nose. "You mean in this white-bred, normal-as- hell, plain old suburb? No way!"

Bosshog smiled. "That's a shame, because that's what we are going to do."

The van drove off, heading towards the distant shape of the Xavier institute.

&&&&&&

The END! Isn't that handy!

R&R, e'eybody.