Author's Note: Started this before the break from school, and the week long hunting trip that ensued. Went after elk near Gunnison and birds near Olathe with a buddy and a couple uncles. Didn't get an elk yet, but I got a few quail, which added nicely to thanksgiving dinner. Sorry for not finishing before I took off, but I hit a brick wall about 6 pages in and just kind of coasted. I will do more on the kids in this one, and a little bit of info on the villains. As for the Cyrillic, sorry about that, I forgot how it looks if you don't know how to read it. I can't read Russian, just Cyrillic, kind of. Had to use a translator to get what I wanted. It makes about as much sense to me as it does to any of you who can cipher the characters but not the words. So as little of that as possible, probably just staying with "да" (Da) and "нет"(nyet), yes and no respectively. I'll be using those to symbolize when a character switches to Russian. "Da" and "Nyet" written in English will still signify English being spoken though.

Last thing: I need to give out some more credit. To Talyn, author of "Cooldown", and "A Night out", I would like to give credit for both the name of the super prison (I was trying to think of one, but your idea of Roswell…well…brick to the head obvious), and the little discussion Helen and Bob had in "Cooldown" has influenced the way I'm writing for them. So thanks for some great stories, and some great ideas!

Chapter 3: Recon

Bob and Boris sat at the table, staring dejectedly at the plates of bacon and eggs in front of Dash and Violet. Bob opened his mouth to speak, caught one glance from Helen, and closed it again. He looked at his friend, who simply shrugged deeply. They both shook their heads and went back to waiting.

"So you and Boris broke the table dad?" Violet looked over her breakfast at them.

"Well, Violet, hon…we were…", Bob heard Helen snort in the kitchen. "Yes. We broke the table."

"It was kind of cool Violet…dad and Boris were arm wrestling and they started yelling at each other, and sweating, and the table started to crack, and mom slammed her hand down on it and it broke in half!" Dash managed to get this out between shoveling eggs into his mouth. He paused, fork halfway to his plate, and looked at Boris. "What were you saying for a little while there? I couldn't understand it."

"And you never will honey, not if I have anything to say about it. And don't you try to repeat it, even if you don't understand it, am I clear young man?" Helen practically slammed the plates down in front of her husband and the Russian. She slid into her own chair and started to eat slowly, glaring at them. "I thought you two had grown up a bit in the past 20 years. I guess I was wrong. And you", she pointed her fork at Boris, "If you get to using that language around my house again, grown man or not, I'm washing out your mouth with soap."

Boris shifted uncomfortably, glanced at Bob, who seemed to have discovered something very interesting in the yolk of his eggs, and then looked back to Helen. He nodded meekly, muttered a soft "yes ma'am", and resumed eating. Helen felt her mood softening at the way the two were acting, like a couple of little boys scolded by their mother. The image of her standing there, counting as Boris sat in the corner with a bar of soap in his mouth was just too much, and she chuckled.

"I swear…you two will never grow up will you?" She smiled wryly at the men. "It's like having five children instead of three. One thing's for certain, you still haven't proven who's strongest, and with the way you two go at it, you never will."

"What do you mean mom? I thought dad and Boris did this before." Dash drained the last of his milk and sat looking at her curiously.

"Yes, they tried, about 20 years ago. They ended up getting into a fight like this one, and breaking the table without deciding a winner. I wasn't there to step in last time, I recall that they got into a full blown brawl that destroyed most of the bar they were in. Fortunately it was one of those seedier places, and as soon as one punch was thrown everyone was in on it. They stopped beating on each other long enough to prevent a riot, and by the time the police showed up, they were arm in arm like brothers again." Helen smiled slightly at remembering the recounts of it from both sides, both claiming to have had the upper hand before things degenerated. "Of course, the stakes were a bit higher than breakfast that time."

"What do you mean mom?" Now it was Violet who looked curious. She had, like Dash, heard very little about her parent's past, especially involving anyone else.

"Oh, they were deciding who would get to ask me out. I was going out with Boris then, although we had agreed to split up. I think it was some sort of elaborate joke he hoped to play on your father."

"You never told me that." Bob looked at his friend with a hurt expression. "Why the whole fight if you two were already done?"

"Was joke! If I had won, would have said good news comrade, can still take Helen out, as we are now through. But I am still strongest. Sorry…just seemed like funny plan…" Boris shrugged again, spreading his hands. "No harm meant."

Bob glared at him for a long moment and then grinned. "Had you going didn't I? I knew it for years, I was just playing with you. No harm meant, of course."

Boris laughed, slapping his thigh with one hand. "Da! Play joke on Russian, very funny!"

"Wait…mom…you and Boris…" Violet looked back and forth between her mother and the large man.

"Yes dear, we dated. For about a year in fact, I met your father through him." Helen shook her head. "It wouldn't have worked out anyway. Boris was a bit wilder in those days, and had his share of drunken brawls that wound up in the police blotters. He was never proved as an instigator, and probably stepped in to stop most of them, but I suspected one or two were his doing. Drunk Russians and bikers didn't mix then, and I'm fairly sure they don't mix now."

"You mean that you met dad after you dated Boris?" It was hard whether Violet sounded more shocked at the thought of her mother dating other men, or at the thought of her mother dating this man in particular.

"Yes... I was being stupid in those days, got too drunk one night, forgot to focus before wading in. I wound up in hospital for a week while they stitched me back together. I swore off excessive drinking at that point, but I am thinking is what scared your mother off. She needed someone more stable, so I introduced your father to her. The rest is history."

Violet opened her mouth to make another inquiry, but Boris was saved further explanation by the phone ringing. Helen reached over the counter and picked it up off the hook, bringing it to her ear.

"Hello? Oh…yes…hold on…" She handed the phone to Boris. "It's your wife." She excused the children from the table, and they headed into their rooms to begin getting dressed.

"Hello? Hello my sweet how…what… нет, нет…you did what? Where? And Fyodor was ok with this? He did WHAT?!" Boris rose out of his seat hastily, and began to pace back and forth behind his chair, gesturing with his hands as he talked. "What do you mean you enrolled him? The security risks…yes he is my son too…no I do…but…that's different! It's safer back home! Against these people yes! Wh-no don't do that…no…that's the last thing we need! Signed him up for what? You're joking! This is serious Natasha you cannot be risking…yes I know…but…fine! Fine! Have it your way! But you will not be telling me how dangerous it is for him when we get back home! Yes…yes I love you too. I am just…worried, about the both of you. Please Natasha, be careful, and listen to Fyodor. Yes my sweet. Yes I will be home shortly. Tseluyu."

Boris clicked the off button on the phone and sighed, letting it dangle from his fingertips as if it weighed a ton. He wearily handed the phone back to Helen and sat down, resuming his breakfast. He took a few bites, sipped from his glass, and looked up at the family.

"What?"

"Boris…is something wrong?" Bob asked gently.

"You coul…oh yes. You don't speak Russian do you." He smiled wryly. "Apparently only us foreigners need to learn your language. Well, Natasha has gone and enrolled our son in school here. He will be starting this morning. And, of all things, his bodyguard is being given job as janitor at school. Political connections have made convincing principal and staff of best interest for all. If times were not so serious, it would be funny. Also, Natasha has allowed Gregor to sign up for hockey tryouts."

"That…that's not too bad…right?" Bob asked this with a bit of worry in his voice. "I mean…he is like you in that way right?"

"Yes…but…is not having as good control as I am. I worked entire life to get where I was 20 years ago, he is only 14 and sometimes lets emotion get the better of him. I only worry that during heat of game he might become upset and hurt someone, really hurt them."

Helen, who had been quiet through all of this, glanced at the clock again and did a double take. Was it really 7:30 already? "Kids! Finish getting dressed, teeth brushed, on the double, Violet your bus will be here in half an hour, Dash get a bath and your pack together, and Bob you need to leave for work in 15 minutes!"

The storm of chaos that is getting two children to separate schools at separate times consumed the family, with Helen the driving force at it's helm. She was everywhere she needed to be, partly in presence, partly literally, helping her husband fix his tie, her son find his backpack, and checking over lunches at the same time. Boris stood off to the side, his mouth halfway open, watching the immense amount of energy expended by the woman before him. About 7:45 she noticed him as she was kissing Bob goodbye, handed him Jack-Jack to change, and resumed the pace.

End Section

Violet sighed, glancing towards the clock on the classroom wall. It was an hour from lunch, and Tony had promised to meet up with her. An hour seemed like too much time entirely. She glanced up in time to see a boy quietly closing the door behind himself. He was lean and suntanned, with close cut light brown hair. He was tall, Violet guessed somewhere between 5' to 5' 3". He looked around, caught her glance with his green eyes, and smiled slightly. The smile struck her as familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. Besides, what did she care. She had Tony to meet in an hour. The boy crossed over to the desk, spoke quietly to the teacher, who nodded and stood up.

"Good morning class, today I would like to introduce a foreign exchange student. His name is Gregor Ninelevich Kuznetsov from Russia, and he will be staying with us for the rest of the year. Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself."

"Well…I am from Bogorodskoye in the Khabarovsk region of Siberia, I want to play hockey here in America, and I am hoping the winters here are nicer than at home. I like American music, although the food is not as good as back home." He looked at the teacher expectantly, got the nod, and went to his desk.

"I trust you'll do your best to make him feel welcome. Today we're going to cover ancient Greece…", the teacher droned on.

Violet felt her attention waning. This didn't normally happen, she usually was a very good student. But something about the transfer student kept tugging at her mind. What was his name again? Gregor? Wasn't Boris's son named that? Of course, the last two names were completely different, and Boris had said his family was still in Russia, but the smile seemed to only add weight to the case. It resembled the large man's smile, but the facial features were sharper, narrower on the boy. And his eyes weren't even close in color.

But then again, parentage played a part in it. Violet understood enough about genetics to know that even though her parents had different hair than her, it was passed down from one of their parents or further back along the family tree. So it was entirely possible for this boy to be Boris's son. He did look like he'd spent a lot of time doing heavy physical labor…didn't Boris say his son was working as a lumberjack when he had left for the States? In any event, Violet wasn't willing to rule out that possibility. Her internal voice satisfied, she focused back on the teacher, who was describing the effect of Socrates on Greek thinking.

The hour passed quickly enough, Violet knew she was lucky to have a teacher capable of presenting this kind of information in an interesting way, asking for analysis and response from his class as he went along. It kept things from getting boring, a useful situation in any history class. When the final bell came, the teacher looked up, glanced at his desk, and dismissed the class with a reminder about the test in two weeks.

Violet told her friends to go on ahead, that she needed to ask a few questions about the notes. She hung back by the door to the room and just as she thought, the exchange student emerged, looked at her, glanced around, and smiled slightly.

"Hello Violet…I know who your father is."

"Nice to know. I met yours already Gregor." Her suspicions confirmed, Violet began to walk down the hall, letting Gregor fall into step with her. "But we can't talk about that at school. I'm going to lunch to meet my boyfriend", she made sure to put careful emphasis on that, "but you're welcome to come too."

"Thank you. That is very kind. I get the impression that I will not be fitting in well." Gregor said these words as they passed a group of girls that had been giggling a moment before but went silent as they walked past. They resumed once they were at the end of the hall, too far to overhear anything but the laughing.

"Doesn't look like it. Probably the name…Ninelevich Kuznetsov? And coming from what sounds like the middle of nowhere in Siberia doesn't help." Violet said this kindly, to let him know she wasn't planning on making fun of him.

"It happens. Is life." Gregor shrugged, then smiled wryly. "How many of them will ever get to track Siberian tiger from helicopter on field trip?"

"You did that?" Violet asked in astonishment.

"Yes, and rest of class too. Not hard, only ten of us, and big helicopter, Hind used for troop transport. The tiger climbed a tree and tried to swipe as we went past." Gregor seemed amused at the thought of a tiger bringing down a modified attack helicopter. "If tiger was smart, would climb to tall tree, sit on top to bend over. Jump off when tail rotor gets near, bring down helicopter almost for sure." He made motions with his hands to accompany his words and looked perplexed when Violet giggled.

"I'm sorry…just…I've never seen anyone use their hands like that when they talked. It's…", she blushed, trying to find a way not to be offensive.

"Different. Yes. We do a lot at home, helps illustrate point." Gregor shrugged. "Force of habit. Can understand. Thinking that Americans should use hands more when talking, say so much, get out so little", he glanced at her and hastily added, "not all I mean. Professor this morning was very instructive, very good."

"I hope you don't mind me saying this but your English isn't as good as your father's."

"Is because he is living in America for many years. For him, English is practiced all the time. I learn in school, very little chance to practice." Gregor grinned slyly. "Maybe you help me practice English, I teach you Russian. Always good to speak extra language."

"Maybe…but…" Violet tried to figure out the best way to respond to this. She was saved the trouble by a very large bearded man wearing a janitor's uniform walking down the hall and stopping when he saw Gregor. He grinned and winked, saying something in Russian.

Gregor's face tightened up slightly, and he responded with a slew of words Violet couldn't understand. He gestured at her, at himself, around in the air, and continued to talk. The janitor laughed, made a quick motion with his hands and a face, and said something else. Gregor stomped his foot and replied, throwing his hands above his head. Violet chose to disengage, deciding it would be best if she didn't know what they were going on about. And she was already 5 minutes late for lunch. She hurried down the hall into the cafeteria, spotted Tony standing by a table, and walked over to him.

"Sorry…I had to stay behind and ask the teacher some questions. We've got that test coming up." She smiled apologetically and put her backpack on the floor.

"That's ok. Is it true that there's an exchange student from Russia here?"

"Yeah, his name's Gregor. He's in my history class." And, he's the son of a super hero that's best friends with my dad, she added in her head. And he's really kind of nice…

"That's cool. Does he have an accent?"

"Yeah…", Violet giggled slightly, unable to help herself. "A pretty bad one. But he's intelligent and he said he was trying to improve."

"Cool. Did you get to talk to him?"

"A little. He stayed after class too, so I told him he could come meet us for lunch. I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's fine. I'd like to meet him, I'll bet he's got some pretty cool stories."

"Yeah…hey there he is!" Violet stood up and waved to Gregor, who was doing his best to ignore the janitor trying to talk to him. One glance from a teacher and the janitor sighed, waved goodbye, and went back down the hall. Gregor walked over to them, muttering to himself under his breath. He stopped, took a deep breath and smiled.

"Hello again Violet. Sorry about that." He slid into a chair and pulled a metal lunch box out of his backpack.

"It's ok Gregor. I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Tony." Violet smiled slightly.

"Nice to meet you." Tony extended his hand across the table.

"And you as well." Gregor reached across and shook his hand.

Violet felt warm inside. She had managed to make contact with the son of another super, and introduce him to her boyfriend without any hostilities being exchanged. She sat back down, pulling out a sandwich from her lunch bag. "Who was that guy by the way? Do you know him?"

"He is my…", Gregor paused for a second, "uncle. My uncle Fyodor, my mother's brother. He is getting job here, so mother is saying good school to place me in, one where family is working. He is big child, always joking around. Speaks very little English, but understands a lot."

Satisfied with his explanation, the three settled in to eat. Violet watched in amazement as Gregor produced sandwich after sandwich from his lunch box, and even Tony seemed a little surprised. After his 5th one Gregor closed the lid and replaced it back inside his pack. He belched softly, stretched, and pulled out a toothpick.

"…That was impressive man…I've never seen anyone eat that much for lunch." Tony's voice held a little bit of awe in it. "How much do you work out?"

"Not much… twice a day, pullups and sit-ups. Appetite coming from work, training to be forester." He chewed thoughtfully on the toothpick, staring at the end of it as he worked it around his mouth.

"You've already got a job?"

"Yes, father is…how you say…shift boss for company. So, before coming over, I work. Good job, good pay, good hours. Good workout too…", Gregor flexed one of his arms, and the muscles underneath his skin rippled slightly. "Not easy work, but good."

"Do you play any sports?" Now Tony's voice held vested interest. If he would be seeing this guy on the field, it would be useful to get to know him very well. It's easier to function as a team when everyone knows each other after all.

"No…well…hockey. Am trying for hockey team."

"No football, baseball, just hockey?"

"Maybe football, in couple of years. But hockey…" Gregor's voice had taken on a dreamy sound. "In Russia we play on lakes in winter…is like nothing else."

"Well that's cool. You should try out for the team though, I bet you'd do well." Tony hoped that would be the case. He liked Gregor, he was a nice guy, and didn't seem to let the differences in countries bother him too much. The trio continued to talk until the bell rang, and then separated for class.

End Section

"So Boris, with all that other information, what, exactly, are we up against?" Bob stretched in his chair, suppressing a yawn. This briefing had seemed to drag on forever. He checked his watch and winced, he'd told his boss it was lunch with a client and wouldn't take longer than a couple of hours.

"Not entirely sure. We have surveillance information on the other three, and of course you know the Cossack." He slid a thin folder across the table to Bob and flipped open an identical copy in front of him. "We were hoping you might have run into some of them in the past."

Bob thumbed through the folder, pulling out and setting aside a few of the photos. He studied these closely for a moment and sighed, rubbing his temples. "Boris you could probably give me pictures of the president and I couldn't tell you right now. We've been at this for close to four hours. Aren't your guys the ones collecting intel for us?"

"This…this is all the intel we acquired. The observation team has been out of contact for a week, most likely dead. I am sorry, we ran the photos through our database and managed only partial matches on all of them."

"Ok…hmm…what partials did you turn up? If had a few names to start from I might be able to identify one of these guys." Bob picked up a photo of a very large man with a huge battle axe. "This guy though…something about him…I wish you could have gotten a color shot."

"Sorry comrade. All photos taken at night, about a week ago, in Arizona. We tried to observe during the day, but there was no activity, and we couldn't risk approaching the area to plant color feeds. It did not do the team any good anyway." Boris sighed and found what he was looking for. "Here we go…for the large man we have the following: The Medieval Mauler, Axe'l, The Executioner, Boss Gazgull, The Canberra Cleaver…", He shook his head and sighed again. "Too many that have been released or escaped or never caught."

"I know…wait…you said Boss Gazgull?" Bob inspected the picture intensely, studying the axe in particular. "Yes. Yes that's got to be him, nobody else has an axe like that." He passed the photo to Boris and pointed at an area of it. "Notice the markings on it. None of the ones you listed have marking like that. Almost completely certain that's him. Do you have any more shots with the axe in them?"

Boris flipped through his folder and handed Bob another one, a hi-res shot of the head of the axe. He studied it closely for a second and then let out a small whoop.

"Yes! Tell your boys to pull up everything they can on Gazgull. We got one down, 2 to go." Bob felt energy flow through him. Identifying one of the enemies he would have to face gave him an advantage, and it felt good to know that. "What's the next set?"

Boris pulled out another folder and handed it to Bob. "This one is a bit more difficult. For some reason the cameras had trouble picking up the next one. All we able to catch for the most part was a flash of an arm or torso…but we did get one very good one." He pulled out a picture of a man's head and shoulders. The man had strange tattoos on his cheeks, with a skull mask painted on his face. Long, curving tusks dangled from his ears, pierced through the lobes, and a small bone ran from one side of his nose through to the other.

Bob furrowed his brow as he studied the picture. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like him before…you get any partials?"

"Am afraid we did not. We could not find anything that matched this photo, and it worries us. Unknown super villians are emerging all the time, as you know with the Underminer. We suspect he's black and from somewhere in Africa or the Caribbean, but we can't be certain. We sent images to governments in those areas, but chances are we won't get much of a return. You know how some of the dictators shelter villains to avoid their anger or use their services.."

"Well that doesn't do us much good. Ok, we're 2 for 3, anything else?"

"Only one…and…this is the last. We think the surveillance got spotted and managed to make it to the drop sight before being caught. We were lucky to recover these at all." Boris hesitated for a second. "I am not even sure if this is worth anything, but we must take the chance." He slid the photo across to Bob.

It appeared to be nothing at first, just the strange white tint afforded by the night vision lens. Then, he noticed, near the center of the photo, a strange spot in the white. It seemed to be a different color, and twisted and moved as he watched. He brought it closer to his face and studied harder. It danced in front of him, strange…mesmerizing. He felt himself being drawn into it, his mind aligning itself with the patterns and symbols it carried. He felt tiny, dwarfed by it…he could hear whispering to him…he must…and the photo was torn from his grip. The whisper screamed in rage for a second and was gone, his mind once more his own. Bob gasped for air, planting his hands against the table.

"What…the hell…was that?" He gestured towards the photo, feeling faintly queasy. That voice…how had it done that, through a still photograph?

"We don't know. This is the only photo we have of what might be the fourth villain. Did you see the patterns as well?" Boris carefully replaced the photo in the folder without looking at it.

"Yeah…and the voice."

"What voice?"

"You've never heard it?"

"No…", Boris furrowed his brow and looked apprehensively at the folder. He crossed himself and placed it inside his briefcase, then slid that away with his foot. "If you did hear something than chances are we should not be looking at it any longer"

Bob felt a stab when he said that. What? He had to look at the picture, had to study it, find the patterns…he shook his head violently, willing away the lingering effects. "Whatever it is, it's not going to be easy. If it can do that through a picture, what else can it do?"

End Note: Sorry about not having combat in this one, I just kind of ran out of steam after about 3 days of writers block and managed to hammer out the last couple of pages. I will get some combat in the next one, and big things are in the works, I promise.

12/1/04