xXx

"Please don't," Logan said softly as Stark flicked the cover off the trigger.

"He stole from me," Stark said patiently.

"He stole the dummy," Logan said. "An he's a friend of mine."

"What are you two talking about?" Peter asked.

Stark looked at him. "The Tymaz Nine canister they all want. It's a decoy, a fake. In fact, it's a bomb. I push this button and a microburst blows away everything within fifteen feet."

Peter felt cold. "Yikes."

"Don't," Logan repeated.

Stark sighed. "I owe you gentlemen my life," he said after a brief pause. He flicked the cover back down.

"What about them?" Peter asked, nodding at the screen. Three generations of the Project's finest were cornered; Mystique, oldest and most enigmatic, next to Creed, the largest and most savage, and in the lead the newest and most technological marvel, Garrett.

"I want to see if they can get out," Stark said, his eyes gleaming. "I want to see if they are as good as they are supposed to be."

"Mistake," Logan said, lighting a cigar. "Corner them and they'll surprise you. So far there's been no killin."

Stark looked at Logan long and hard.

Garrett snapped. He came around the corner, through the tear gas. He was among the security guards. His hands and legs darted out with vicious strength. He was an awkward whirligig of death. He leaped into the masses and yanked off heads, punched through armor, tore out throats. They were too close, too slow for the killing machine he had become. Stark watched in slack jawed awe as Garrett punched through fifteen troops in as many seconds, arming himself with the gun they had been setting up in an emplacement.

"My God," he whispered.

Then Garrett was on the surface. He moved fast, and low, and he didn't miss. The two barricades went down, then the satchel charge took out a segment of fence. The three escaped into the night.

Stark sat stunned.

Logan sighed, and put a hand on Stark's shoulder. "That's about thirty dead," he said. He took a deep drag on his cigar. "No class, that new guy. No respect for life."

"My God," Stark whispered.

Then it was over. The radio crackled. "Mr. Stark?" said the captain of security. "Do we pursue?"

"No," Stark said. "No, let them go. Inform the police."

"Yes sir."

Stark turned off the monitor, and the three of them were alone.

"Are you… okay?" Peter asked.

Stark winced. "I've recharged the suit," he said, gesturing at the cables plugged into the shoulder vents. "I don't know what shape I'll be in outside it. We'll just have to see. Creed… he's very strong."

"Yeah," Logan said, rubbing his jaw.

"Speaking of which," Peter segued, "what the hell are you doing here, Logan?"

"Oh yeah," Logan said. "Dija like my note?"

"It was great, why did you drag me into this?"
"Well," Logan said, puffing on his cigar, "Stark tracked me down and invited me. See, I'm what you'd call an expert on Tymaz Nine."

"What is Tymaz Nine?" Peter asked, frustrated.

"Classified," Logan and Stark said in unison. "Anyway," Logan continued, "When Mystique grabbed Tymaz Nine the first time, she ditched it in your car when she made her getaway. Pure accident, but when I saw your picture in Stark's file I knew you'd want to get in on this little shindig. I missed ya," he said, reaching out to ruffle Peter's hair; Peter reflexively moved without thinking.

"Yeah, but who was the furry blue guy?"

"Another friend of mine from way, way back," Logan said. "He wasn't here for me, though. His bosses want Tymaz Nine pretty bad."

"So if that was the decoy, where is the real one?" Peter asked, frustration rising.

"I destroyed it," Stark said softly. "I developed a temporary suppressant to counter its symptoms, then I destroyed the samples of the weapon itself."

"That's a nasty joke," Peter said with a grin.

"But not the best punchline of the night," Stark replied enigmatically. "I thank you for your help. How can I reward you?"

"Three things," Peter said. "Forget about me and erase all evidence I was involved in this mess."

"Done," Stark said. "And?"

"You owe me a camera," Peter muttered.

Stark laughed.

xXx

Peter and Logan stood outside the front gate to Stark International.

"Thanks, kid," Logan said. "For everything."

"I think we're even," Peter replied. "You've saved my life more than once tonight."

Logan shrugged. "Friends don't keep score, kid."

"Peter," the young man sighed. "Name's Peter."

"Yer so cute," Logan grinned.

"I wish people would quit calling me that," Peter grumbled.

"Well, ya got a good shooter."

Peter looked down at his new camera and smiled. "Yeah. I have a stop to make before I go home, so I'd better get moving."

He started to leave, hesitated. "What are you going to do now?"

"Life's big, kid," Logan said. "Maybe the merchant marine. Always wanted to see the East. Maybe somebody will make me a better offer."

"Stay in touch," Peter said slowly. Logan grinned.

"Git outa here. We'll meet again 'fore you know it. Get in some deep trouble and I'll be bound to show up."

Peter smiled, turned and started walking. Logan watched him go, but he didn't go back inside immediately.

He looked up into the stars, lost in thought. "Take care, kid."

xXx

Amy answered the door. "Parker!" she said. "Any idea what time it is?"

"Hey, we're in college, right? I saw lights," Peter said, blowing on his hands. "Mind if I come in?"

"Come on in," Amy said. "MJ, it's the pit crew."

"Ow," Peter said softly. Amy smiled at him and went back in the living room. Mary Jane came out.

"What's up, tiger?" she asked.

"Aunt May wanted me to get pictures of our first date," Peter said with a shrug. "Our camera, well, you know what happened. So, uh, say cheese."

"You're kidding, right?" she said, her eyebrows raised.

Snap.

"Aw c'mon, smile," Peter said. She did. Snap.

"I'm in my sweats," she protested.

"I'll scan the pics into Photoshop and dress you as best I can," Peter said with a grin.

"I don't like where that could go," Mary Jane noted archly.

"Take one of me?" he asked, handing her the camera.

"Amy, why don't you get one of us together?" Mary Jane asked.

"You know, it doesn't matter," Peter said as Amy trudged in. Peter looked into her eyes. "No matter what, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Good lovey look," Amy said, too bored to sneer. "Very moon eyed." She snapped the shutter. "Can I go?"

"Thanks a million," Peter said quickly. He took the camera, glanced at Mary Jane, and left.

"Loser," Amy muttered, heading back into the living room.

Mary Jane looked after him, and smiled faintly. "Wow," she said.

xXx

"So you have plans after this?" Stark asked casually when Logan returned.

"Merchant Marine?" Logan suggested. "I've always wanted to see the East."

"And if I made you a better offer? I could use a man of your caliber."

They exchanged a long look.

Logan grinned.

xXx

Fury was waiting for them, the chopper set down in the park. By the time they reached him, none of them needed to limp.

"So?" Fury said, a cigar clenched in his teeth. "Did you get it?"

"No," Creed said shortly. "The blue teleporter got it."

"Yet you got the turncoat," Fury said, his voice cold.

"We never woulda made it out without her," Creed said fiercely.

"This true?" Fury asked Garrett.

"No," Garrett grunted.

"I see," Fury said. "Mystique, you served under Bryant. Didn't get along. You want another shot under me?"

She nodded.

"Then you have it. Probationary. I've read your file. I'm sure I'll be satisfied."

She smiled.

"Okay, Garrett," Fury said. "Let's go."

They piled into the helicopter, and once they were in the air, Fury nodded to the tech that had been waiting for them inside. "Let's see what kind of parts you got from Stark. At least one phase of the mission went the way it was supposed to."

The tech popped Garrett's forearm open. "This arm was replaced, right?"

"Right," Garrett said.

The tech hesitated. "You mean your other arm, right?"

"No, this one."

"What's this?" Fury asked, leaning over.

The parts all bore the insignia of the Project next to Stark International.

"What?" Fury said, his face growing white and his eye flashing with rage. "Stark already took our plans?"

The tech glanced over at him. "We didn't manufacture these, but it's our technology, sir. It's hardly possible, but… he might have figured out how to reverse engineer and replicate these technologies from Garrett's remaining parts when he arrived."

Creed started to laugh, and he laughed almost loud enough to cover Fury's passionate cursing.

xXx

Somewhere miles behind, Stark and Logan raised a glass of wine to toast the Project.

February 20, 2002

Strange lay the paper down on the table and gazed out the window. Behind him, Valeria polished the last of the dishes and put them in the cupboard. She closed it, tossed the towel on the dish drainer, and turned to face his back.

"Well?" she said.

"Good job," he mused. "Fascinating material. Your explanation of the condensation of skin and muscle tissue at a molecular level is intriguing." He shook his head. "Normal flesh acting like chain mail. As pliable as mere mortals, but incredibly damage resistant. The notion of microfiber muscular composition affected by solar radiation opens up new avenues of thought. Which leaves an important question," he said, turning to face her. "You've laid out what the power is, but not how it works. Also, this doesn't address your myriad other abilities."

"For one, my good doctor, I don't know how it works. And for another," she said, arching her eyebrow, "I don't want to know. If I knew, and if others knew, then it would lead them to attempt to duplicate the effects. Is that not the aim of good science?"

"I see your point," he conceded with a nod. "Verification of the principles you put forth in this article would lead to other, for lack of a better term, super people. Those driven to find results like this are seldom altruistic," he said, tapping the paper. "I think you have chosen a wise course. This is plenty of grist for our readers' mills in one go."

"Besides," she said a bit archly, "it would be a shame if I wrote all the material into one article. This way there's more of the story to be told, a bit at a time."

"You wound me," he said with a winning smile. "You make my endless search for the enlightenment of the human soul sound like a moneygrubbing enterprise playing on cheap sensationalism."

"Expensive sensationalism more like," she said, walking to the window and looking out. "After all, this is America, and you are not without bills."

"Indeed," he said, a smile arching his face. "I do in fact have some accounting to do." He rose from the table, and tapped her stack of papers into order. "I'll take this with me and send it to our copy editor."

"Let me know if he finds a mistake," she said with a smile.

"I won't hold my breath," Strange murmured fondly as he left the kitchen.

Valeria watched the sunset with an imperceptible sigh.

xXx

Hours later, Doctor Stephen Strange leaned back in his chair and gently squeezed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Bills to pay, indeed. But his magazine, The Planetary, was increasing in circulation and in scope as his network of contacts broadened and deepened.

He hesitated. The door to his Sanctum Sanctorum down the hall was touched, but not by Valeria. He waited, listening. It was touched again. Words were spoken.

It opened.

He stood, intrigued. So, a trespasser, and one who was familiar with the Art. With a gesture he called his red coat through the air and slipped it on, then he stepped out into the hallway and looked at the bolted double door at the end of the hall.

Interesting.

The Sanctum no longer held as many critically important articles as it once had, for he had outgrown the crutches of mortal wizards. He was Sorcerer Supreme, and he had redefined the role. However, many useful tomes and divination devices and so on still resided within those armored walls. Things that could be troublesome if released. He stealthily approached the closed door and listened through it with more than his ears.

Someone inside moved, quickly scanning the shelves. Reached for a book.

The door boomed open at the command of its master, the Sorcerer Supreme, whose power was unveiled for just a moment. The interloper spun, startled.

"May I help you?" he asked mildly, his eyes flaring.

The trespasser was a shapely young woman with straight blond hair and an attractive face. Her beauty was marred by cruelty. Her tail whipped around in surprise, and Strange saw that she had goat-like legs ending in cloven hooves.

"I have come to partake of your knowledge, wizard," she said, her voice soft and low. "Partake I will, whether you like it or not. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

"By all means," Strange said with a small smile, "I prefer the hard way."

"As you wish," she growled, extending stiff fingers towards him.

He chose not to be moved. Her eyes widened.

At that moment Valeria cleared the top of the stairs, her incredible hearing alerting her to the intrusion. Strange half turned.

A disc of weird light, pale and dark and wreathed in flame, spun up from the floor and swept over Valeria. In less than a heartbeat she was gone.

"She is in my power," the interloper said. "You must do as I say if you wish to see her again."

When Strange turned to face her, the mildness was gone from his face. His features looked as though they were carved from stone.

"You have miscalculated," he said, his voice even and restrained. He gestured, and bands of wilder magics sprang from the ether and snarled around the trespasser, then snapped into her. She tried to scream as eldritch energies swathed her and constricted until she was almost crushed. She felt her bones shift in the grip of the binding.

"Crush me if you dare," the interloper hissed. "You will never find your woman again without me, for I am the sole ruler of the realm where she is now kept. If I do not return she will die."

Silence. "I see," Strange said. He gestured, and she was snapped upright to slowly spin in mid air. "Relax and this won't hurt a bit."

She didn't relax.

It hurt a great deal.

Strange let his mystic probe fade. "You have… so little… formed magic knowledge," he said.

"I have a lot of potential," she gasped, her breath heaving in and out. "My teacher. He failed me. I have… no technique."

"Hence your visit," Strange said. She nodded. "How did you find me?"

"Scrying," she gasped.

"I see," he murmured. "Yet I did not feel your observation."

"I am not a fool," she said, gathering her composure and her breath. "I learned of your existence from others, then I observed you when you were in the midst of distraction. I can have a very light touch."

"Impressive," he said, unimpressed. "I find nothing in your extremely limited arcane knowledge about how you travel back and forth to this other realm."

"It isn't magic," she hissed. "It is… natural talent, if you will. Only I can travel to and from this place, though others can move near it, near enough for me to catch them. I am the key. Damage me and you will never see the woman again. Free me and give me a few books and you can have the woman back."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I do not deal with thieves or terrorists."

"Nasty words," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Would you like to know what is happening to your sweet little woman right now?"