"One last key, one more." Jesse pounded furiously away at the keyboard, the three other mutants clustered behind and breathing down his neck in anticipation. "Almost got it—there!" He sat back in satisfaction as a picture scrolled up from the bottom, followed by a spate of documentation. He and the rest scanned the information, hunched over the screen.
The picture showed a dark haired girl with big brown eyes. A man could melt in those eyes, Brennan thought to himself. Adam had good taste. He read further: Ana Del Castillo, like her brother Carlos, was a mutant. But Ana's mutant ability was chromatic, the ability to control light. Jesse activated the video clip, and it showed a tiny pint-sized woman, sparks flying from her eyes, hands glowing with excited photons. A swift move—it made Emma think of Brennan—and a blast of light shattered a concrete cylinder put there for the experiment. Shards of dust and rock splattered. The lens to the camera cracked, and the scene went black: a casualty of experimentation.
Shalimar crossed her arms and whistled. "That's some mutant. Wonder where she is now? In Eckhart's pods? Working for her brother, maybe? I'd like to think that we would have heard something about someone that potent. Is she hiding out somewhere?"
"Uh-oh."
"Uh-oh? Why don't I like the sound of that, Jess?"
Jesse pointed at the bottom of the screen. "Died five years ago. Exact date unknown, exact cause unknown. Suspected to be related to her mutation. Apparently there was a slow but inevitable degradation of the liver due to the build up of toxins related to chromaticity. No autopsy was ever done. The body was charred to a crisp, but talking to people around her confirmed the symptoms of liver disease." He frowned. "That's odd."
"What's odd, Jess?" Shalimar rested her hand on his shoulder.
"The liver degradation. Apparently no attempt was ever made to reverse it." Jesse leaned back on the stool to better make eye contact with the others. "This particular disease is not that hard to cure. I've seen Adam do it more than once. Remember that Billy Joe Bob guy that we got into the Underground last year?"
"The one with the microwave powers." Brennan nodded. "He was the perfect guy to have over for left-over pizza."
"I remember him," Shalimar said. "If he offered to 'lasso that little doggie' one more time, I was going to give him to Genomex myself."
"That's the one. Adam shot him up with the Potion du Jour, and he's currently as happy as one of his little doggies somewhere on a ranch in Arizona. I hear he's a bit hit on the trail when it comes to the mess tent. But the point is, guys, that this mutation side effect is not particularly lethal, as long as treated properly." Jesse fixed them with a questioning gaze. "So why was Ana not treated properly? Especially since Adam confessed to going out with her?"
"Had to have something to do with Carlos," was Brennan's opinion. "I mean, look at it. Sparks fly," and he snapped his fingers to demonstrate, "and—yow!"
Brennan had only intended for a tiny arc between forefinger and thumb. What he got was substantially more.
The arc balled out into a giant globe of electricity, blasting the other three mutants on its way to demolishing the newly refurbished computer. The monitor exploded. Glass from the screen shattered, scattering shrapnel at them. Jesse instantly massed to protect the others.
They picked themselves up slowly, moving around the shards, trying to avoid being cut by the shattered glass. Wires hissed and spit as the circuits shorted out. The monitor looked like someone had kicked it in with a heavy metal-toed work boot. Emma righted a stool, brushing it off.
Brennan looked at the mess in dismay. "Guys, I so did not mean for this to happen! Are you all right?"
Shalimar glowered at him. "I'm going to be picking shards of glass out of my hair for a week, Brennan. Whatever possessed you to do that?"
"I didn't!" Brennan protested. "It just came out like that. It was supposed to be just enough to power the EverReady Bunny."
"Well, this Bunny was a Killer Rabbit," Jesse grumbled. "Look at the computer. You not only fried it, you scrambled and diced it into oblivion." He tossed a disgusted look at his team mate. "New monitor, new box—you even melted the keyboard, Brennan! What's with you?"
"I don't know, man." Brennan almost rubbed his fingers together to examine them, and thought better of it. Worry seeped into deep brown eyes. "Guys, I really don't know what's going on. It seems like I'm building up a charge all the time, and it just comes out at the wrong times! I can't stop it!"
"Maybe you're mutating again." Emma voiced what they all were thinking. "We ought to talk to Adam."
"No." Shalimar was definite. "Not yet. Not for another few days. Adam isn't well, and you know that if he finds out about this, he'll be straight into his lab and working on a cure."
Jesse agreed. "And he won't take a break until he has it. Or until he collapses in exhaustion." He glanced unhappily at the shattered plastic and wiring that littered the floor. Already the metallic pieces were aligning themselves in a north-south relationship to Brennan. Jesse swallowed hard—just how powerful was Brennan now? "I'll sweep this up. You girls ride herd on Adam. Don't let him near here or the lab until I have a chance to clean this mess away and do some of the preliminary research in the lab on ole Sparky here."
"And me?" Brennan's voice was uncharacteristically low.
Jesse favored him with a look half amused and half worried. "Find some way to burn off some excess juice, bro. Go find a thunder storm somewhere and show it how lightning is done. Maybe you won't be so noticeable."
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The office was sterile. There were no wood products to soften the look, no warm leather seats; only cold infection-free metal that was impervious to the bleach that frequently applied to the surfaces to ensure the lack of bacteria.
There was a desk chair for the office's owner to sit in, but he rarely allowed himself the opportunity. No, there was too much to be done to waste the time seated. There were underlings to oversee, laboratory experiments to review, budgets to approve or disapprove. More often those budgets were disapproved. He had idiots working for him, idiots who couldn't be trusted to carry out the simplest of tasks without close supervision.
There were a few that he allowed a more free rein. Most had proved themselves through completion of simple tasks. And, as now, he would let some ingratiating fool believe that they had talked him into some pet project or other. He always put a certain amount into his capital budget to finance a few go-getters in the forlorn hope that one or more might be successful in their endeavors. It kept the others trying at the mundane jobs and if the go-getter failed? Well, that too would keep the others in line when they saw the consequences of failure. As certain of the military branches of government were fond of saying: failure was not an option.
And he was quite certain that the object of his gaze was well aware of that. She stood in front of him, taller than he now that he was half-sitting against the front of the gun-metal gray desk, trying nervously not to fidget.
"Ms. Manse," he said finally. "Do you have something to say to me?"
The woman in front of him, neatly attired in a business suit so starched that it could have walked by itself, swallowed hard and opened her mouth to reply. He cut her off.
"I do not wish to hear excuses, complaints, whines, or even explanations," he snapped. "I wish to hear results. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Manse?"
Ms. Manse swallowed again. "Perfectly, Mr. Eckhart."
"You have already failed me once. Do you wish to submit a new project completion date?"
"Yes, sir. I—"
"In writing, Ms. Manse, in writing. And this time include a little more detail as to how you propose to accomplish it. I would like to know your plan even if you don't."
"Yes, sir."
Mason Eckhart turned to look into the room where the pods lay, each holding a carefully shorn and sleeping mutant. Not one could harm the human race. A fitting place for those who would alter humanity.
A cough came from behind him. He didn't turn around.
"Are you still here, Ms. Manse? I am waiting for my report. Have it on my desk in the morning. You are dismissed."
"Yes, sir." She fled.
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Jesse heard the argument from far down the hall. The voices grew louder and louder, tempers rising, one low and male and thoroughly annoyed and one female trying to stay calm and placating. Jesse was in the lab, working on a computer that Brennan hadn't zapped to hell and back, wondering if he could possibly finish running the program he had cobbled together before Emma lost the battle altogether and Adam came charging into the lab.
"It's been two days, Emma. I promised the doctor two days, and it's up. I've got work to do."
"It has not been two days, Adam. It's not even five o'clock in the afternoon, and that does not qualify as two days."
"Close enough," Adam grumbled.
Jesse glanced worriedly at the computer screen. The clock on the side of the window estimated another four minutes to completion. One glance at the computer program and Adam would know exactly what Jesse had been doing all day in Adam's absence and would insist on taking over. Which Jesse wouldn't have minded—the problem was in Adam's field—but they all had strict instructions to make the man rest. Here goes nothing… He hurried to block the door to the lab. "Adam! How are you feeling?"
"Very well, thank you, and ready to get back to work," Adam replied with a dangerous glint in his eye to match the note in his voice. Emma hovered nervously behind their mentor with an I-couldn't-stop-him shrug of her shoulders. "What are you doing in my lab?"
"Ah, ah." Jesse waggled an admonitory finger at him. Kilmartin to the rescue, milady. "You heard the doctor. Two days, Adam. It's only been one and a half. Someone has to protect you from yourself. Tomorrow will come soon enough."
"No, it won't," Adam said in no uncertain terms. "Out of my way."
Grinning, Jesse massed hard as a rock. Adam bumped into him.
"Sorry, Adam. Doctor's orders. No lab time for you until tomorrow. And we'll be keeping an eye on you to make sure that you don't over exert yourself. I think one hour in the morning, and another in the afternoon should be enough, don't you? Especially if you take a nap in between."
Adam's reply was non-verbal, unprintable, but eloquent.
"So glad to hear you agree," Jesse smirked.
But Adam wasn't finished. "And when did you finish medical school, to be ordering me around?" he challenged. "I've been practicing for over twenty years—"
"And right now you have a fool for a patient," Emma put in from behind. "You've scolded us plenty of times for pushing ourselves beyond what our bodies can take. Tables have been turned, Adam. It's time to take your own medicine. You need rest."
But Adam had seen the torn down computer bits on the workbench. Jesse cringed; the working computer had finished crunching the program—he'd bought himself enough time for that—but he'd forgotten the remnants of the Brennan-melted machine that he was trying to salvage parts from. Adam pushed by and into the lab, heedless of Emma's wordless protest.
"What's this?"
Jesse hunched his shoulder. "We, ah, had a little accident with one of the computers. I'm trying to put it back together—"
"I can see that. What happened?" There was no amusement in Adam's voice.
"My fault." Brennan came up behind the Emma, and took the blame—though not in the way it happened. He continued easily. "I was horsing around. I tripped, I crashed, and we are now out one computer. I'm sorry, Adam. I've already told Jesse that I'd help with the repairs."
Emma held her breath, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Brennan lied as well as anyone she knew, and not giving him away with body language was tough. She could feel the nervousness emanating from Jesse, and hoped that she herself wasn't doing the same. Adam couldn't sense the psychic resonance as she could, but the man had an uncanny instinct for seeing past any pretense. Brennan leaned against the doorframe, surveying the others inside the lab, giving Adam a frank and open look that managed to convey that the elemental was thoroughly ashamed of himself for being so careless around expensive equipment. Emma was impressed. Had she not been there when Brennan's 'accident' happened, she would have believed him.
"Liar."
Emma didn't need her powers to tell that Adam was annoyed. It radiated from the man, beginning from the time that his body had betrayed him almost two days ago through the enforced and resented recuperation to the present. Annoyed? No. Seriously pissed. And Brennan was the perfect candidate to take out his anger upon.
"If you're going to lie to me, Brennan, at least do it with a modicum of cleverness." Adam snapped, pointing at the computer parts. If he had been an elemental himself, sparks would have flown from that fingertip. "You may be hot-headed, but you are not clumsy. And I have yet to see the plastic housing on a keyboard melted from being tripped over." He glared at them all, not leaving anyone out. "What's going on? How did this computer get over-heated to the point of melting the plastic? What are you keeping from me? Where's Shalimar?"
"We're not keeping—" Jesse started to say, but Emma interrupted him with the truth.
"Adam, we didn't want to worry you. You've been sick. You should be in bed even now."
Adam folded his arms, regarding first one, then the other, and finally ending up on Brennan. "Well?"
Brennan heaved a sigh. There was no use in trying to keep anything from Adam. He always knew.
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Shalimar wasn't surprised to find that the scent pheromones led her to the top of the building. Ferals always harked back to their genetic roots, preferring the environments that their animal counterparts did. Shalimar herself was happiest stalking prey through a forest, silent as a cat, placing one careful paw in front of the other.
Carlos Del Castillo was an avian feral, from the peregrine falcon persuasion. Therefore the man preferred to nest somewhere high where he could survey the land. So Shalimar dutifully trotted up ten flights of stairs to the penthouse, pleased at the exercise because she'd had to give up her usual work-out this morning to care for Adam, forcing the man to stay in bed, carrying a breakfast tray into him and putting it on top of his lap so that he couldn't get up without spilling everything.
Casting a swift glance around to make that no one was watching, Shalimar put her ear to the door. She could hear the sounds of a shower far back in the apartment, the wavering of the water indicating that the man inside was engrossed in the hot water. A small smile played across her lips: the prey was distracted. Shalimar quietly picked the lock to the front door and eased herself inside.
The apartment wasn't large, but it was expensive. Del Castillo believed in feathering his nest nicely. The furniture was well-made and of high quality, nestled around a wood-stove that was there more for show than for heat. A small grand piano sat in the corner, the beginnings of a dust film settling on it, showing that Carlos kept the instrument as decoration only, and that the maid was due any day. The acoustic guitar leaning against the piano bench looked more used, and Shalimar guessed that it was the man's musical instrument of choice. The pictures on the wall also spoke of money; Jesse had taught her some of the hallmarks to look for, and Shalimar could tell that these pieces had been collected at some exclusive art show. She idly wondered if Del Castillo had bought them or if he'd stolen them.
No matter. Shalimar was there to persuade Del Castillo to give up his death threat against Adam. Or kill him, if sweet reason didn't work.
She advanced on the bathroom. Del Castillo was singing, a pleasant tenor, something in Italian that sounded vaguely operatic. Steam seeped out from behind the bathroom door. Shalimar halted. Opening that door would allow hot steam to escape from the small room and alert her prey that he was not alone. Shalimar would have only a split second to subdue him.
No time like the present. Shalimar readied herself, balancing from one ball of her foot to the other, cat-fashion. She flung open the door and sprang inside.
Someone snagged her around the neck from behind the door, wrenching her off of her feet. Astonishment hit worse than the blow, but Shalimar recovered instantly, pushing her feet against the slippery bathroom wall tile to ram her attacker back against the door. The hold on her neck loosened. Shalimar slipped away.
There was no room to fight for either of them. They took the battle to the living quarters. Carlos flung Shalimar against the wood stove. She landed on her feet and launched herself at the feral across the piano.
They were well-matched in size and weight, Carlos with his ultra-light bone structure. It was a battle of black and white, Shalimar blonde and blue-eyed and Carlos dark-haired with smoldering black orbs.
"My nest!" he hissed at her.
"My pack!" Shalimar snarled back. "Why? Your sister?"
That sobered Del Castillo. A nasty little smirk crawled across his lips. "Don't be stupid," he replied. "Ana died several years ago, too foolish to go after the serum she needed to live. This is strictly business."
But, here inside his nest with four walls and a ceiling, the avian had given up his feral advantage. Shalimar was accustomed to using the six surfaces equally well, Carlos preferred the open sky for his battles. His superior sight was of no use for in-fighting. With a screech of anger he flung himself out through the window, shattering the glass with his passing. The last view Shalimar had of him was a dark-haired man in a bathrobe gliding away, dancing in the air. It wasn't quite flying, but as an escape route it was effective.
Shalimar hissed in frustration.
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The scan finished playing over the elemental's torso, and Brennan casually folded his arms behind his head, the action not quite hiding his nervousness. The bio-bed that he was currently lying upon was narrow and just barely accommodated his bulk. There were boxy machines dangling from the ceiling, some that Brennan was well-acquainted with and others that he had yet to experience—and dreaded the thought. "Well?"
Adam turned away from the reports emanating from the computer screens. "The good news: this is a rather minor acceleration of your mutant DNA. Your increased control over electricity has caused certain of your body cells along the nervous system to align like a magnet, with north and south poles. This alignment in turn has increased the voltage that you can call on, resulting in an increased output. Translation: all the electrical work-outs you've been doing have increased your electrical muscle." Adam eased himself back into a chair, lines drawing down his face. But his eyes were alight with energy, eager to explore more of this problem before him, and that need to think and solve overruled any mere considerations of physical health. This was the sort of recuperation that Adam craved.
And his answer reassured the other members of Mutant X who had crowded around the computer to listen in. Shalimar had not yet returned from her jaunt, and only Emma knew where the feral had gone to, what her purpose was in sallying forth from Sanctuary. Adam had guessed, the others wondered, but only Emma knew for certain.
At Adam's words all three of the mutants relaxed in relief. Every one of them had faced similar threats to their lives and had only squeaked through as well as they had due to good luck and staunch research by the man sitting next to them.
"That's good news." Brennan meant it. "Leaking excess electricity everywhere I go is getting kind of embarrassing. This is not the kind of turn on that I want to give every girl I meet." He rubbed his fingers together to demonstrate. Already small crackles of power were gathering.
"I've alway knwon that you were a shock to everyone around," Jesse teased. "This just makes it official."
Adam grinned. "Fortunately for you, Brennan, I have a solution; literally, a chelating solution that I can inject into your bloodstream. It will take a little time to prepare, but it should do the trick."
Brennan swung his feet off of the bio-bed. "Then I can go? Until you've got the antidote?"
"Yes." Adam winced. Emma looked up in alarm, but Adam continued to speak as though nothing was wrong. "In fact, that's a good idea. Go some place where you can shoot off a few thousand watts or so without disturbing anyone. That'll work off the excess energy that you're building up and give you practice in controlling what you have. You haven't finished mutating, Brennan. There will come a day when this will happen and we won't be able to reverse it. This is an increase in your power levels—" he broke off with a gasp. He closed his eyes, clenching his lips in pain.
"Adam?" More sparks flew from Brennan's fingers unheeding.
Color drained from the older man's face and he clutched at his arm. "Chest.." he managed to choke out.
"It's his heart!" Emma exclaimed. "Brennan!"
Both Brennan and Emma grabbed at the stricken man, pulling him bonelessly from the chair to wrestle him onto the bio-bed that Brennan had just vacated. Jesse fired up the computer-imaging scanner; it was designed to measure mutant anatomy but would work just fine on a mere human.
"It's an arrhythmia," Jesse rapidly diagnosed. "His heart is beating erratically—it's too slow!" Then he stared at the tableau: Adam unconscious on the bio-bed, Emma beside him.
And sparks flying from Brennan, striking both Adam and Emma. Even as Jesse watched, the tiny electrical arcs flew through the air, arrowing in onto the tender flesh of both Adam and Emma. Another moment more, and Emma too felt their sting. Her face went pale, and she clutched at the side of the bio-bed to keep from falling over. She cried out in distress.
Brennan was terrified, and confused. "Wha—?"
Jesse came to a fast conclusion. "Brennan, get away from them now. Back up!"
"Huh?"
"Do it!" Jesse yelled. Leaping forward, he massed himself between Brennan and the other two. Tiny streaks of lightning flung themselves at him but couldn't assault his diamond hard surface.
Brennan staggered backward, still not certain what was going on but trusting Jesse. Almost immediately the sparks died down. With no possible terminal end point to complete the electrical circuit, they vanished. Emma almost immediately felt better; she sighed in relief. But her own brush with death took its toll: she closed her eyes and sank to the floor, Jesse jumping in just in time to keep her from slamming her head on the hard tile. Brennan started forward, only to be halted by Jesse's frantic gesture.
"Stay back," the molecular commanded, holding up his hand to keep the elemental away.
"Jess?"
"I don't know how, but being close to you is causing Adam's heart to malfunction and now Emma's as well." Jesse picked up the unconscious telempath and deposited her gently on the second bio-bed, arranging the scanner to swiftly look over her vital signs. Jesse looked over the readings. Relief spread over his even features, and he glanced back up at Brennan. "Emma will be okay. She needs rest."
"And Adam?"
"I don't know." Jesse peered at the older man's scan. "He's unconscious, but his heart seems all right now. It's beating normally. His vital signs are low from the episode but recovering." He looked back at Brennan fearfully. "His heart almost stopped, Brennan. We almost lost him!"
Brennan couldn't believe what was happening. He stared at the other two, both senseless on separate bio-beds. Emma's color was returning, but Adam still looked frighteningly pale, beads of sweat dotting his brow. "I did that? I couldn't have, Jess!"
"We'll figure it out, Brennan." Jesse let his fingers dance swiftly over the keyboard, inputting bio data into the files for later evaluation. "Just stay away from them for a bit. Keep your distance. Just until I figure out how to reverse what's going on. Or even what's going on."
"What about Emma?" Brennan was having a hard time comprehending.
"Same thing there. She must be susceptible, just as Adam is."
"You?"
Jesse shook his head, too busy to meet Brennan's panicked gaze. He rolled across the floor on the movable stool to input data into a second computer, telling it to correlate its findings with the first. "Doesn't seem like it. Massing seemed to deflect the worst of it. I felt a couple of little pin pricks, but that was all. I feel fine."
"Right."
Now Jesse did spare a sympathetic look for his teammate. "Don't worry, Brennan. I'll solve this, and if I can't then Adam will be up and around and champing at the bit to do the same thing. This must have been why he went down at the lecture hall, and he was recovering from that just fine until this happened. We'll pull him through, Brennan. But right now he and Emma need a little bit of space from you, literally. Make yourself useful, bro: go check on Shalimar. See if she's had any luck with that Carlos Del Castillo character."
"You're trying to get rid of me."
"Yeah, Bren, I am." Jesse was getting involved in the readings the computer spit out. "It's not good for you to be here with Adam and Emma, and I want to find out why. Adam said that he had a solution to the problem, so I need to do some research and find out what he meant. And one of us should touch base with Shalimar, in case she's running into some trouble. You or me, buddy, and the comm. link. You got a better option for divvying up the chores?" The question was rhetorical. Brennan fled.