"Don't worry, mother," Ben was saying. Shalimar, Brennan, and Emma had crept up on the scene. The group was outside the barn, the barn doors wide with the three sedans inside warmed up and ready to go. Brickman and his men were ready to depart the farmhouse for good, three of the men trying to put the last of the suitcases into the trunk of each car and having trouble finding room amidst all the other paraphernalia that Brickman had insisted on recovering.
But two others held Bea Sutter with a knife to her throat. It was low tech, but effective. The rest were menacing Ben, forcing the super-soldier into compliance with a combination of guns and threats to his mother. Brickman faced the young man.
"Don't try anything, Benji," he was saying as the trio crept up. "Your mother is valuable to me, but I can do without her. I am a perfectly capable researcher myself. Put your hands behind your back, and Bart over there will put the handcuffs on. You do that, and I'll take the knife away from your mother."
"Don't do it, Ben." Bea Sutter's voice was low and calm. Only Emma could truly know the iron-clad control the scientist had to say that to her son. "Don't worry about me. He won't hurt me."
"Yes, I will, Benji," Brickman contradicted. "It's you that's important here. Showing you to my backers and then to Genomex will be the highlight of my career. I'll take my place among the Nobel prize winners of this century."
"You won't enjoy it if it's posthumous." Ben delivered his threat as coolly as his mother. "If you harm her, none of you will leave this place alive. And don't think that I can't do it." He flicked his eyes casually around the group. It was twelve to one, but only one or two of Brickman's men looked satisfied with the odds.
Brennan started to get up, to provide more support for the home team, but Shalimar pulled him back down. She pointed.
Three more cars trundled up along the dirt road that lead to the farm, carrying dust and soil along with them. One rubbed its suspension along the ground as a tire descended into a dirt rut, jolting the passengers. These were city cars, and the men who got out were city boys in suits. So was the woman who got out last, brushing off her black blazer and straightening her skirt. Long black hair cascaded down her back.
She glanced inside the car, then back at the people in front of her. "Which of you is Brickman?"
Brickman stepped forward. "I'm Dr. Brickman." Emphasizing his title.
She ignored his importance. "Which one is the mutant?"
"I've completed the serum that will correct the intellectual deficiency to the super-soldier mutant," Brickman said. "I have all my notes right here," and he patted the attaché case by his side, "and I'm ready to go."
The woman tightened her lips and repeated, "Which one is the mutant?" She flicked her eyes over the group and settled on Ben as the likely candidate. "You. Get in the car."
Ben stayed just as cool. "What are you offering?"
"That was not an offer. That was a directive. From Mr. Eckhart."
Ben didn't move. The whole tableau seemed frozen, waiting for someone to make the first move. Even the man holding the knife to Bea Sutter's throat was transfixed.
The woman broke the moment by sighing. "Have it your way." With a sudden gesture, she flung a bolt of light straight at Ben. It barreled him over, flinging him against the side of the barn.
That was Mutant X's cue to get involved. Brennan jumped up, twisting electricity between his fingers, and flung his own missile straight at the woman. She may have been the smallest combatant there, but she was the most dangerous. Astonished at the attack from an unexpected venue, she cartwheeled away, coming back to hurl another bolt of light.
Shalimar couldn't sit still. She bounced off of the broad side of the barn and onto the heads of two of Brickman's men, then ricocheted off of the man holding the knife to Sutter's throat. He staggered back. Sutter squealed as a thin line of blood appeared across her neck. A handkerchief came out, and she dabbed at the clotting liquid.
That galvanized Ben into action. He sprang to his feet, lashing out at the oncoming attackers. They were men hired to train Ben in the martial arts, but with his newfound intelligence, Ben schooled them. One flew into the barn and lay still. The next ended up hanging from a post. The third, the one who had been holding a knife to Ben's mother's throat, took one careful look—and ran.
Emma went for the woman from the car. She aimed a telempathic bolt at her, and the long-haired woman staggered back. But she recovered quickly, and prepared her own retort. A barked command from inside the car stopped her, and Emma caught a quick peek of a shaggy white-haired man inside: Mason Eckhart. The woman hustled inside, scowling at not being permitted to finish the fight, and the car backed itself out and roared away.
That took the fight out of all the rest. Prudently, they took to their heels, running down the road after the car, coughing at all the dust kicked up by racing tires.
All but Brickman. He backed away, attaché case clutched to his chest, stepping back until the barn prevented him from going any further. Bea Sutter advanced on him, fire in her eye, a drop of blood still trickling from the thin red line etched across her throat.
"Bea, wait!" Brickman cried. "I was doing this all for Benji! This was to help him!"
Bea Sutter wasn't fooled for an instant. "You bastard!" she snarled, and decked him.
Dr. Brickman rolled his eyes back into his head, and slid slowly down the barn door.