Chapter 5

Saturday, September 14th, 2002

New York, New York

3: 20 P. M.

His fingers glided easily over the keyboard as he spoke. "What progress have you been making, Dr. Lyons?"

The man in front of him shivered. "I hate to say it, Mr. Shaw, but very little. Mutational Immunodefiency Virus is very hard to beat."

"But you were the ones who created it, aren't you? Or have I employed new people?"

"Yes, we did create it, but it's gone through mutations. Field tests have proved that. Our initial lab-created Legacy had a cure ready. This form doesn't."

Shaw finished composing his e-mail. "When I hired you, I expected results. You have come through with Mutational Immunodefiency Virus, or more colloquially Legacy, but you appear to be failing on the cure. I am not pleased, Dr. Lyons."

"Surely you understand mutations," Dr. Steve Lyons pleaded. "That's what we need, a true expert in the field of mutations. It would make a world of difference."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Shaw smiled, his lips tight. "I know right where to get one."

Dr. Lyons went pale. "Mr. Shaw, the world will notice if another geneticist goes missing," he said carefully.

"The world won't care. And anyone who does can be paid off easily." Shaw frowned, his eyes going hard and sadistic. "I need this cure, Dr. Lyons. And you're going to give it to me."

Dr. Lyons knew better than to drag out the argument. "Yes, Mr. Shaw," he said stiffly, and turned to leave.

"Oh, Dr. Lyons?" The doctor hesitated, turning his head back. "Go against my decisions again, and I may just send you to Selene."

Dr. Lyons managed a nod, then beat it out of there. Shaw sighed, logging out. "The working class."

"Having trouble controlling the ants?"

Shaw turned in his chair, a more natural smile gracing his lips. In the side door of the room lounged a gorgeous figure in black. "Just that damned Dr. Steven Lyons again," he told her. "The usual."

"Oh. Am I about to have some fun, Sebastian?"

'I won't stop you if you're in the mood." They shared a brief kiss. "Have you been studying those demoniac manuals we found in Africa?"

The woman nodded, a snake-like grin slithering onto her lips. "You know how I get when I read them."

"I do indeed, my darling."

Suddenly, the door burst open again, carrying with it an enraged Dr. Lyons. Shaw jumped to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"I'm sick of this! You kidnaped me from my wife and family and set me to work on this -- this fatal disease just so you can show a profit on the cure! I won't have it! I've compromised myself for too long!" With a banshee shriek, he launched himself at Shaw.

Scientist and employer met. Dr. Lyons thudded into Shaw like he had hit a wall. Baffled, he attempted to punch the man, but it had the same affect as hitting a mattress. The laws of physics were turned inside out.

Shaw chuckled momentarily at the geneticist's predicament. "Dr. Lyons. I never did inform you of my mutant power, did I?" He lifted the scientist by the neck. "I can absorb kinetic energy, and convert it into raw power for myself." He flung Dr. Lyons across the room.

Dr. Lyons landed with a thunk against the far wall. He slumped to the ground, then unsteadily got to his feet. "You're a monster," he growled.

"Oh, really?" Shaw's mouth indicated he was amused, but his eyes said that he was furious. "Selene, my dearest. . . ."

Selene's eyes brightened. She walked over to Dr. Lyons, who readied himself for a fight. She stopped a few feet from him and closed her eyes, placing her fingers on her temples.

Minutes later, Lyons was a crying, trembling heap on the floor. Shaw showed no emotion as he pressed a buzzer on his desk.

Two people marched in, in full costume. Their faces were masked in a most unusual way. All distinguishing features were covered by flesh-colored cloth. Three slits allowed the masked ones to see and breathe. Their bodies were similarly attired, in identical dark blue and red. It was hard to tell one of them was female.

Shaw pointed to Dr. Lyons. Take him down to the basement until he recovers. Then take him back to the lab and tell him if he doesn't behave, I'll let Selene have him for an entire day."

The people nodded and dragged Lyons out of the room. Selene shuddered with pleasure. "What a rush," she purred. "Thank you."

"Even leading members of the Hellfire Club should be allowed their pleasures," Shaw smiled. "Which reminds me -- I believe Mr. Fletcher Smith wanted to make another appointment with you."

"Again? That man's becoming used to it. I'll have to alter my style." Selene frowned, just a little. "I don't really like catering to their needs. It cheapens the sensation. But, if it brings me pleasure. . . ." She shrugged.

Shaw sat back down. "Our dear Dr. Lyons will have one thing to be grateful for when he comes to. He'll be getting his asked-for help."

"Really?"

Shaw frowned at his wife. "Selene, much as I hate giving him what he wants, we need this cure. It will make us billions. And with it solely in our possession, we could also build a web of powerful allies. I also don't want to risk us getting infected. Practical considerations must come first."

Selene shrugged again. "Well, who is it?"

"Dr. Hank McCoy. He's a leader in the field of genetics."

"He won't come willingly," Selene warned. "His sympathies lie with the X-Men."

"We'll give him a chance to come on his own. He may care more about curing Legacy than the X-Men. If he refuses, we'll take him by force."

"I'd prepare for force. His loyalties appear quite strong."

"That's what our members are for," Shaw reminded her, picking up the phone.

Saturday, September 14th, 2002

Graymalkin Lane, Westchester County, New York

3: 52 P. M.

Doc stared in frustration at the computer screen. "Damn it! Work!"

Marty had to cover his grin. The subject at hand was deadly serious. It wouldn't do to start laughing at Doc's tirade. "Still no luck?"

"None. None." Doc dropped his hands in defeat. "I thought -- Hank's serum coupled with these codes of DNA --" He sighed, looking at the simulation play itself out. "But nothing."

Hank brought the data screen back up. "I hate to say it, but I was pretty sure this would happen. Legacy affects different mutants different ways. What may work for one may not work for another. Using mutant DNA, even from people like Wolverine, probably won't work."

"It was just a thought, Hank. Biology's not my speciality, after all."

"I know, and it was worth it to give it a shot. We can't afford to leave any stones unturned."

J. C. appeared, holding a cell phone. "Yo, Dr. McCoy, phone call for you. Sounds important."

Hank took the phone. "Hello, Dr. Hank McCoy." He blinked a few times. "Who's calling? Okay. . .Yes, I'll talk to him, I guess."

Marty, Doc, and J. C. exchanged puzzled looks. Who was it?

"Yes?" Hank listened for a minute. Then his face went red. "Shaw, under no circumstances will I sell out. Offer me all the money you want! Not interested. Good DAY, sir." He flipped the cellular closed and made a motion like he wanted to slam it down.

"Jesus, who the heck was it?" J. C. asked.

"Sebastian Shaw."

"The wealthy industrialist? The guy who's companies have built practically everything on the planet?"

"Yes, that Shaw. Owner of the Hellfire Club, CEO and owner of Shaw Industries."

"That doesn't explain much for me," Marty said, looking lost. "Who the heck is he?"

"In 1987, I read about a certain Sebastian Shaw who was setting up his own business," Doc offered. "This Shaw is quite possibly his future self."

"I'd bet money on it. By now Shaw Industries has grown into an insanely powerful organization. If it can be built, he will build it. He's a multi-millionaire on par with Bill Gates."

J. C. whistled. "Whoa. That's rich."

"Indeed. The Hellfire Club is his personal club for the rich and famous. Entrance is by invitation only, and their parties are the stuff of legends. Many millionaires would gladly give up their wealth for a chance to get in."

"Sounds like your average snot."

"Far from it. For one thing, both Shaw and his wife, Selene, are mutants. They've never gone public with this news, of course, but we know. Shaw once entertained Professor Xavier."

"That just goes to show how rich Professor X is," Marty said, highly impressed.

"Do you have any information on his powers?" Doc asked, curious. "I'm assuming he'd be willing to help us, and we could try just one more time with the mutant DNA. . . ."

"He can absorb kinetic energy and convert it into power for himself. Selene is an illusionist, we don't know her speciality. But I don't want their help, except as the absolute last possible resort."

"Why not?"

"Shaw's not known for being -- ethical. One or two of our contacts who have worked for him or been close to him report violent personality changes. He can be charming or sadistic, it all depends on his mood. One even reported catching him in a temper tantrum."

J. C. laughed. "He sounds like a big baby!"

"A very dangerous baby. He's offered to build the government machines that can identify and track mutants. He's also a generous public supporter of the Purifiers."

J. C. went stiff. "A race traitor, huh? I wonder what would happen if I called up the Purifiers and told them what their hero really was? After all, I know one personally."

"It's not worth it, J. C.," Marty said, understanding how she felt. "He wouldn't believe ya. He'd say you were making it up."

"In fact, much as I hate to say it, he probably wouldn't take the call," Doc added.

The teen relaxed again, sighing. "You're right. I've put that behind me. Forget him."

"So you can see why I don't trust Shaw's motives," Hank continued, steering the conversation back on topic. "Yes, he's trying to cure Legacy. But for what purpose? Market it, and he'd make millions. Be the only producer, and he could build an army of desperate mutants. I won't work for him."

"Neither will I, Hank. Why don't you e-mail Moira, and see how she's doing?"

"Actually, I've got a better idea," J. C. said. "Why not e-mail the Doc Brown of this year? I'm sure he'd be ecstatic to help. It's his life he's saving."

"I would, if not for two things," Doc said. "One -- it is inadvisable to have contact with your older self. Especially if he came here and I saw him face-to-face. At best, we'd faint because we'd recognize each other. At worst, we'd create a life-ending paradox with our actions."

"So, just e-mail him. He's you, he'd know not to look at ya."

"That's where Two comes in." Doc swallowed, lowering his voice and dropping his eyes. "I don't know if he's alive."

J. C. lowered her eyes too. "Oh, yeah."

"Do you need a break?" Hank asked. "We've been down here for about seven hours."

"Yes, I think I do. I need to see my family."

"I want to find Jennifer," Marty nodded, getting up. "What about you, J. C.?"

"I might as well stay down here. If Hank'll let me."

"Sure, no problem."

Doc headed for the hallway. "I'll be back in five," he said.

"Oh, hell, you need longer than that. You're working on your time machine as well. I want you to take at least 30. Now go on, shoo!"

"Yes, sir," Doc kidded, making his escape with Marty. J. C. took a quick admiring glance as he left.

"J. C., you'll have to be more discreet than that," Hank informed her. "Everyone in the school knows you were drooling over Kurt yesterday. Do you need them talking about you and Dr. Brown as well?"

"I don't care. They're both really cute." She smiled at the stairs. "Absolutely stunning eyes. . . ."

Hank rolled his eyes, then got serious again as he looked at the computer. "I wonder. . . . What happens if he doesn't survive? Will I still be influenced by him?"

"That's a pickle. You'd have to ask Doc himself about that. Time travel's way too confusing for me."

Saturday, September 14th, 2002

New York, New York

4: 10 P. M.

Shaw looked at a smug Selene. "You were right, my dear," he sighed. "His damn morals got in the way."

"They always do, unfortunately." Selene poured herself into Shaw's lap. "Do we still take him by force?"

"It would be best. With him on our team, we may be able to make some pretty important breakthroughs." He frowned. "And if one of my staff was willing to attack me. . . ."

Selene understood very well what Shaw meant. "I'll have the security on our private rooms expanded."

"Thank you. I'll start making plans for our eventual raid on Xavier's manor. We don't want to make the same silly mistakes Stryker did." He dialed the phone. "Hello? Miss Frieda Stamos? It's Sebastian Shaw, Frieda. I have reason to believe we'll need you in the near future. I'll be hosting a party in a few days. . . ."