"Where were you?" Adam Kane was not best pleased, looking up as Jesse Kilmartin ambled into Adam's inner lab in Sanctuary. More colorful liquids bubbled in beakers in the background on the work table, and on the computer screen pasted up onto the wall a set of cells broke into duplicate sets, courtesy of mitosis. Adam set the test tube in his hand down in its rack to glare at Jesse. "I expected you back two hours ago. Did you get Denise off to the Underground?"

"Uh, yeah," Jesse stammered, taken aback at his mentor's overt annoyance. "Pretty much." Remembering how the sixteen year old had clung to him, begging not to be sent away, even to safety. Thinking of the passionate kiss she had tried to seduce him with, if only to stay at Sanctuary where she had felt safe. Cringing at the anger and despair she'd displayed when he said no. Witnessing the humiliation of a sixteen year old who'd just been turned down by an 'older' man. Yeah, I'd say that Denise is now gone.

"Good. Where's the results of the computer program I needed you to run?"

Jesse frowned. "Adam, you said you wanted it by next week."

"Wake up, Jesse. It is next week. Where is it?" Adam cocked his head in annoyance.

Puzzlement was uppermost. "Adam, you told me about it yesterday."

"Last week, Jesse. I told you last week. As in, last Friday. Four days ago, Jesse." Adam grimaced. "I take it this means that it isn't ready." He sighed, making his displeasure clear. "Another delay."

"I'll get working on it right away." Jesse still didn't understand. He definitely remembered discussing the project with Adam just yesterday when the older man had brought it up for the first time. It sounded interesting, a little tricky setting up the parameters but nothing that Jesse couldn't handle. Even with the resources of Sanctuary at his disposal it would take the better part of a day for the computer banks to finish crunching the data, and Jesse had intended to start on it in the morning. All work and no play, etc… And then he had the mutant drop off to do, the sixteen year old whose psionic gift was indefinable…

But Adam wanted results, and he wanted them now. Shrugging, Jesse plopped himself in front of the computer console and starting tapping at the keyboard, mentally resigning himself to another up-to-midnight session to get the project under control. Not the first time, boss.

The comm. link beeped at him, and Jesse absently tapped at the key to establish the connection. "Go ahead."

"Jess, where are you, man?" Brennan totally ignored the fact that he had called Sanctuary. The question was rhetorical.

Jesse raised his eyebrows, his attention still on the computer screen in front of him. "I take it you think I ought to be somewhere else."

"Well, yeah! Get your ass over here. We've got a mission, bro!"

"A mission?" Okay, let's hit on bewilderment. Jesse had totally missed that part of his life, the part where Brennan or whoever told him about a mission. And Jesse felt reasonably certain that he wouldn't have forgotten something like that. "Brennan, you didn't tell me about any mission. When did this come up?"

"Like an hour ago. Like when you said you were coming straight here. Like when I called you to tell you to meet me and the girls and a guy that I know that needs our help. That's when it came up."

"Brennan, an hour ago I had just finished dropping off Denise to the Underground. I was on my way back to Sanctuary."

"Jess, you are so having a senior moment here. Are you seriously telling me that you don't remember me calling you and telling you to get over to Clancy's Bar?"

"Dude, I would have remembered something like that."

"Then either I was talking to myself or you were doing something significantly nasty to that sixteen year old jailbait that you were dropping off—"

"Brennan—!"

"—it doesn't matter which. Just get your tail over here now, Jess. I mean it, bro. This is some heavy stuff over here, and we need you." Brennan clicked off, chopping off any rebuttal.

Jesse slumped back in the chair. Adam's project to work out, and now some unknown mission that Brennan was babbling about? Bedtime got pushed back a bit more. He'd be lucky not to see the sun rise.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Clancy's was a little hole in the wall, popular with the locals and totally unknown to the out-of-towners. Clancy watered down the drinks only a little, reserving the good stuff for the regulars, and the omni-present cigarette smoke was only three feet thick in the rafters instead of cascading all the way down from ceiling to floor. Jesse walked in the front, looking for Brennan or any of his teammates.

Nothing. The dance floor was moderately crowded, but not so much that Jesse couldn't see all the participants, and neither Brennan, Shalimar, or Emma was among them. He let his gaze wander over to the bar. Yup, there was Clancy himself, fat and greasy and with a pretty good heart to go along with a larcenous soul, but no sign of Mutant X. Maybe in one of the back rooms? Maybe dashed off into the night after whatever the mission was? Jesse bellied up to the bar. "Hey, Clancy."

"Hey, Jesse," Clancy greeted him, wiping his hands on a dish rag. It looked dirty, and Jesse wondered once again how the man managed to stay one step ahead of the Department of Health. "What'll it be?"

"Just some info." Jesse glanced around once again. "Have you seen Brennan? Maybe Shalimar or Emma?"

Clancy shook his head. "Not tonight. You looking for 'em?" He pushed a foaming mug of beer in front of Jesse, knowing that the man would pay for it even though it hadn't been ordered. He was right. Jesse hauled out a couple of bills from his wallet, sighing. Larcenous soul…

Hm. Strange. "Brennan said he was here. Meeting someone."

Clancy shook his head again, this time with more certainty. "Not tonight, he wasn't. Haven't seen him all night. You sure he said to come here?"

"Yeah. Unless you know another bar run by a guy named Clancy."

"As it happens, I do, but that bar is in a little town called New York. Probably not the one Brennan told you about. But like I said, Jesse, I ain't seen Brennan all night, nor any of the girls, neither."

Hah. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice in Wonderland liked to say. Well, Brennan wasn't Alice, and the three were obviously not where Brennan had said they would be. And since Clancy, usually a pretty reliable source, said he hadn't seen them… Jesse made his way to a quiet corner of the bar and raised his comm. link ring to his lips. "Brennan?"

"Jesse? What's keeping you, man?"

Jesse fought down a sense of exasperation. "I'm right here at Clancy's, Brennan. Where are you?"

"Clancy's? What are you doing there? We're at Chacko's, man. Jesse, we don't have time for games. Hurry it up, bro."

"You said—" Jesse broke it off. This was so not his day. First Denise the teen-age mutant with an over-sized temper tantrum and an ego to match, then Adam, now Brennan, and both of them telling Mrs. Kilmartin's little boy that he was losing his marbles. Early Alzheimer's setting in? He should be so lucky. "I'm on my way. Chacko's, right?"

"Right. Move it, Jess."

Didn't have to tell him twice. What with Adam's project, and now this mission, it looked like Jesse would be lucky to get any sleep for a week.

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Chacko's was a good deal noisier than Clancy's but made up for it by being smoke-free. It also catered to a younger crowd; Jesse grabbed a bottle of over-priced water before heading over to the table where he spotted Brennan and the girls. It was hard to hear over the hard rock din and the squeals of the teeny-boppers pretending to be older than they were but Brennan gave him an impatient wave.

The fourth person sitting in the booth made Jesse think of a short, squat Brennan, one made out of a brick wall. The shoulders were broad and the torso thick but Jesse got the impression that there was a lot of muscle in that torso, and not just from popping steroids. There were some serious work-out delts under that shirt that more than made up for the meager stature. Short dark hair, gleaming brown eyes, big grin; Jesse considered feeling out-classed. Nah. Muscles wouldn't mean much against a diamond-hard exterior. Jesse had nothing to worry about—as long as there weren't any girls around that Jesse wanted to impress.

"Finally," Brennan greeted him. "Jesse, meet Kenny Dickerson, an old friend of mine."

"Kenny." Jesse nodded, shook hands. He slid into the booth, sitting next to Shalimar who scooted over to make room for him.

"Jesse." Kenny grinned in welcome, white teeth flashing. Some serious dental cosmetic work there, too. Guy likes himself. "Glad you could make it."

"So am I," Brennan added, a glare in his voice. Late, dude!

"Sorry to be late." We'll talk about this later, Brennan; won't air the dirty laundry in front of guests. You told me Clancy's, and don't try to tell me that you didn't... "What's this about?"

"I need help," Kenny admitted. "Heavy duty help. So naturally, I thought of Brennan."

"We go way back," Brennan said with a proprietary grin. "Before Kenny turned legit."

"Before we both turned legit, you mean," Kenny corrected. "I am now KD Enterprises, Limited."

"Limited to what?" Shalimar put in, curious.

"Haven't figured that out," Kenny told her cheerfully. "But, looking at what is going on with my latest job, I'm kinda thinking that I'm going to limit myself to computer security. Safer, is what I'm thinking. Knives and bullets are not my thing, and I'm thinking of developing a serious allergy to bombs."

"Bring me up to speed?" Jesse requested. This was getting interesting.

Brennan gave him a look, echoed by Emma, that very clearly said if you'd gotten here on time in the first place, you'd know all this by now. "Kenny is providing security for Thomas Merriwell."

"Ah." Jesse sat back in his seat. "That's a big target."

"You said it," Kenny agreed. "When I took the job, Mr. Merriwell wasn't so big. He was just another businessman out to make a relatively honest buck. They hired my firm—me, that is; I'm the only guy that I employ—to look into the security on their computers. Keep the little stuff, and the big stuff, from leaking out to the competitors."

"It worked," Jesse acknowledged. "I've been listening to the word on the street: Merriwell is the only guy who knows how to make this CAMS computer chip. He stands to make millions, assuming the chip is everything that the scuttlebutt says it is."

"Right," Kenny agreed. "Even federal governments can't touch him; the key to the chip is inside his head. The military can come and yell and screech to get the chip but unless they're polite, they don't even get the time of day from Mr. Merriwell. Needless to say, they are not happy campers. Let me tell you, guys: this is fun to watch."

"So what do you need Brennan for?" Emma asked. "What's the problem?"

Kenny sighed. "Not just Brennan. All of you. Like I said, I'm an expert in computer security, but the problem here is that we need an expert in security against stuff a little more overt."

"Like—?" Shalimar slid in.

"Like flying bullets," Kenny told her with a crooked grin. "Dark men in darker suits in darkest sedans. Kidnapping stuff. Last week they tried assassination."

"Isn't that a little extreme for a computer chip?" Emma wondered.

"This particular chip utilizes a new type of technology, one that manages to have the computer working on three different levels at once," Kenny replied. "Think multi-tasking to the nth degree. This will revolutionize the computer industry."

"And put major corporations out of business," Jesse realized. "Anyone stuck in the old technology will see their stocks plummet overnight. I can see why someone wouldn't want to have that sort of invention hit the marketplace. But assassination?"

"It's happening," Kenny said grimly. "Two attempts so far. Mr. Merriwell has been lucky. The first time his chauffeur managed to lose the guys. The second time I spotted the gun and yelled. Mr. Merriwell ducked, and as a result I still have an employer as well as a bonus. I'd like to keep him around; I like getting that regular paycheck." He gestured to the members of Mutant X. "And I'm willing to share that paycheck. It's pretty generous. I can afford it. I'd like to sub-contract out that part of the security detail to you guys."

"You don't need—" Emma started to say.

Brennan interrupted. "Speak for yourself, Emma. This guy can afford us; believe me, I checked. And I don't intend to work cheap. What do you need?"

"Bodyguards," Kenny answered promptly. "I can handle the computer security, and I've already got my claws poking around as to who might be interested in eliminating his competition. But that won't do me any good if my boss gets off-ed. I need someone who knows something about personal protection."

"I know a little about computers," Jesse offered. "Give me what you've got, and I'll do a little poking around, see what I can come up with on my end."

But it was Brennan who shook his head. "Don't bother, Jess. Kenny's got it covered."

"Bren?"

Brennan jerked his thumb at his old friend. "He's one of us."

"Ah." Understanding started to enter the picture.

But Brennan wasn't finished. "Computers, Jess. Kenny's into computers. I mean, really into computers."

"As in—?"

Brennan grinned. "Yup. Leaps tall gigabytes in a single bound. Faster than a speeding RAM, more powerful than a motherboard with multiple USB hubs—"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture." But Jesse still had a concern. "Sounds good, guys, but what about Adam?" As in, does he know?

Brennan nodded. "And approves." And you would have known this if you'd gotten here on time.

"Approves?"

"Approves," Brennan affirmed. "He's getting a good deal out of this, too."

"Oh?"

Kenny grinned. "How many guys do you know who get to have cutting edge technology put on their personal PC's? Trust me, guys: Mr. Merriwell is willing to pay handsomely for protection. He is one scared suit. Your services in exchange for a paycheck and a sample CAMS chip."

Jesse sat back and grinned. "Cutting edge technology? On a computer that I get to use? Sounding better and better."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Four AM. Jesse leaned tiredly back in his chair, surveying the computer program in front of him. Finished, at last. Adam's project would chug away for the remainder of the night and have the answer for Jesse and for Adam sometime mid-afternoon tomorrow. Today. Whatever. Jesse rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to tell himself that he didn't have a headache, that it hadn't been one of the longest days he'd had in a long time, and that he could go to bed now and collapse.

His thoughts turned idly to the mission that Brennan had accepted on their behalf, racing furiously in circles despite his weariness. Helping another mutant, that was something they could all get behind, even though Jesse felt a little off-kilter with this one. Sure, he liked to get out into the field like the others but it felt funny to allow someone else to take the lead in the computer arena. Not that there was a better option; Jesse was good, but any mutant who could pour himself into the very wires and computer chips themselves could outdo a man with a keyboard any day.

He punched in a request for the database of mutants from the computer, pulled up the file on Kenneth Dickerson, AKA Kenny. The info was a little on the scanty side; Jesse snorted. Not surprising, for any friend of Brennan. The database on Brennan himself had been a little scanty up until recently.

Kenny was in his mid-twenties, had grown up in a bad section of town and had not been a model citizen. That was obvious, despite the juvenile records being sealed. Jesse could guess what was in them from talking to Brennan: shop-lifting, juvie scams, a little grand theft auto when big bucks were needed for the latest electronic toy. Hadn't graduated high school, although that didn't mean much. Jesse was willing to bet that an ordinary public school couldn't keep up with a kid who could jump into the nearest computer and play in an internet fantasy for hours on end. Role playing games to the max, dude.

There the intel ended. Sometime in the last year Kenny had gone straight, had formed KD Enterprises, and was now legitimately fleecing honest and not so honest businesses for the privilege of delving into their computer systems and rooting out the spyware that would siphon off industry secrets to the highest bidder. Real-life role playing games, Jesse decided, with the added advantage of not only getting paid for the game but not getting hassled by the cops.

Okay, looked good, even though Jesse couldn't shake a feeling that something underhanded was going on. Maybe it was just because Kenny was a friend of Brennan's; seemed like everyone the elemental knew had a shady background. If Jesse was going to work with Brennan, he was going to have to getpast this concept.

He sighed, feeling the need for bed, wondering how Shalimar was faring. The feral had volunteered to go back with Kenny to the Merriwell estate to start the job right away. As the liveliest of the bunch at night, the other three had graciously and quickly agreed to her plan, which meant that Shalimar was now happily prowling the bushes outside a certain mansion looking for trouble. He grinned, and tapped the comm. link. "Shalimar?"

"Jesse?" Her voice came back quick and strong. "What are you doing up? Don't you know what time it is?"

"Time for good little boys to be in bed," he agreed, "which is where I'm headed. Just finished working on Adam's research program. You got anything?"

"Not a thing," Shalimar admitted. "Everything's quiet. Nothing to report." Pause. "Go to bed, Jess. Your shift at the mansion will be coming up soon."

"Got it. G'night, Shal."

"'Night, Jess."

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The alarm clock rang entirely too soon for his liking, and Jesse stumbled blindly out of his room in search of something highly caffeinated and hot. Coffee, lots of it, with as much natural stimulant in it as he could manage after last night. Then a shower, and he might even turn into something vaguely approaching human.

Emma was there in the kitchen, sipping on her own mug. Something soothing and herbal wafted from the brew she was drinking; her legs were crossed with the morning paper ruffled out in front of her, perusing the news of the last twenty four hours, getting ink onto red-tipped fingertips. Even this early in the morning she looked good: dark red hair fluffed around elfin features, the lean and taut body tucked into tight jeans. Wait—it wasn't early in the morning. No wonder Emma looked good. She'd been up for several hours at least. Jesse had overslept.

Well, he considered himself entitled, after working so late last night. His shift on Brennan's mission with his buddy Kenny wouldn't start until sometime later this afternoon when boss man Merriwell needed to make an excursion to a business meeting in town. He glanced at his watch, not yet trusting his voice to function. Brennan would already be at the Merriwell mansion, and Shalimar on her way back home for some well deserved rest.

Whack!

Jesse saw stars, the result of a swift and sudden blow to his head. "Hey—" he started to say.

"How dare you!" Emma hissed. "How dare you broadcast that kind of thought at me!" She shook her finger in his face. "Do that ever again, Jesse Kilmartin, and I will fix it so that you never have those thoughts for the rest of your life!" Emma slammed her mug down on the counter and flounced out of the kitchen.

"What—?" Jesse's head rang, and he blinked several times to clear it. "Huh? What did I do?"

Adam ambled into the kitchen, aiming for the coffee-maker, tossing a backward glance over his shoulder. "Good. You're finally up. Did you finish my project yet?" And, without waiting for an answer, added, "and what did you say to Emma? I've never seen her so angry, at least not often."

Jesse worked his jaw. It wasn't working too well after Emma belting him one, and he was worried that his thoughts weren't any better. "I'm not sure. I don't think I said anything."

"You must have said something," Adam replied. "Emma doesn't get worked up over nothing."

Jesse shrugged. "I'll apologize." It was the easy way out, and Jesse had learned long ago not to argue with a pissed off woman. And as for one who was an empath? Well, Jesse himself was no dummy. You may not have done anything wrong, but apologize anyway. That was the Twelfth Commandment: always apologize to the woman, especially when she's wrong. That came right after the Eleventh Commandment: thou shalt hang up thy choir robes neatly.

Adam accepted his answer. "You finish the computer program?"

"Got it chugging away right now." Jesse was grateful to be able to say yes. The late hours were worth it; at least there was something going right. The last twenty-four hours had been an exercise in wrong things going even more wrong. "Should be ready sometime this afternoon."

Adam frowned. "I had hoped that you would have it by now."

Jesse groaned. "Adam, give me a break! I didn't finish writing the code until four AM. The computer here won't work any faster, and it's one of the fastest brains around."

"I wouldn't have had tocome toyou if you'd done it last week asI asked."

Jesse closed his eyes, took a sip of hot coffee before saying anything that he regretted. The same thing applies to genius scientists: apologize. Don't argue. Just apologize. "I'm sorry, Adam. I must have forgotten."

"Don't let it happen again," Adam grouched. He set down his coffee cup, and pointedly looked at his watch, then at Jesse in his current state of dishabille. Jesse fled to the showers.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Early afternoon, and Jesse was ready. Completely ready. Well-dressed, ready for the job of bodyguarding one of the currently most important men in the computer industry, ready to escort one of the currently most powerful empaths in the world to the afore-mentioned job. Good thing, too, because Emma still hadn't forgiven him, sending him an occasional frigid glare if she happened to catch his gaze. Too many mistakes made over the last twenty-four hours, Kilmartin. Used up your share. Let someone else make the mistakes now. Hopefully the assassins that you're supposed to be guarding against.

Adam sauntered by, nodding approvingly. "Looking good, folks. Brennan just called in, said that Merriwell will be ready to go inside of an hour. Just enough time for the two of you to get over there; Shalimar will join you as soon as she wakes up. Jesse, you're bodyguard number one. Any bullets fired, you're up. Emma, you and Brennan will be handling the survey detail. Brennan says that Kenny is trying the computer route, trying to see who's behind all of this, but so far no luck. If someone does take a pot shot at Merriwell, I want you three to capture him alive. We'll see if he knows anything."

"Got it," Emma said. "Jesse? Ready to go?"

"Hold it." Adam halted them with a hand. "Jesse, what about my program?"

"Almost done," Jesse assured his mentor. "In fact, it should be completed right about," and he looked at his watch, "now."

"Good." Adam tapped on the console of the unit slaved to the mainframe, searching for the answers before the originator left on his assignment. He frowned, and tapped again. Then tapped some more. "What name did you put it under?"

"Mentor 18A, as usual. Won't it come up?"

"Oh, it'll come up all right." Adam tightened his lips. "The file name comes up beautifully. Just one little problem, Jesse."

"Uh-oh." Jesse had a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"There's nothing in the file." Adam sighed angrily, heaving the gust of wind in Jesse's direction. "You managed to erase not only the program, but all my data as well. Thanks, Jesse."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I can't understand it," Jesse fretted. "Where did the data go? Adam's program was humming along perfectly last night." He turned the wheel of the Miata, putting the little car easily through the curve ahead of the black SUV filled with screaming kids and soccer moms. "The only time I've ever seen a program crash as extensively as that was that time that Brennan accidentally put a ton of voltage through the power box."

Emma sent another glare filled with icy daggers. "So now you're blaming Brennan for your screw up, Jesse?"

"Hey, I didn't say that!" Jesse stomped on the brakes a little harder than he liked to avoid a big Caddy that decided that stop signs were only meant for the little people. Even that drew another angry look from his teammate. On the spot Jesse decided to cut his losses, and shut up. Nothing was going right. Maybe, if he was lucky, the assassin would take aim at his target, and Jesse would get in the way without a sheet of dense armor. That would solve all of Jesse's problems. Right, Kilmartin. And, for an encore, we're going to stand in front of a cold window until we catch pneumonia and die. Then won't everyone be sorry?

Jesse sighed. Probably not.

The Merriwell estate was huge. Jesse parked the little Miata behind the building designed for the fleet of vehicles owned by the nouveau riche Mr. Merriwell, hoping that no one would notice the comparatively cheap vehicle. Jaguars, Rolls, even Hummers with every accessory known to teen-age boys and a few even they hadn't thought of—Mr. Merriwell had learned to enjoy life in short order. Jesse was amazed that Brennan wasn't out here in this over-sized garage, drooling over the engines tuned to within an inch of perfection.

The tall elemental noted their arrival, and came sauntering out to meet them, Kenny in tow.

"All's quiet," he greeted them, "not that I expected anyone to make a move here on the estate. Kenny's got some heavy duty security set up along the perimeter. The squirrels are having trouble stealing acorns from the oaks around here."

"Least I could do," Kenny grinned, "especially seeing as how my ass lives inside, too. I may not be much in the way of punching out the opposition," and he flexed the biceps on one arm, the muscles rippling inside taut skin, giving the lie to his words, "but I do know electronic security."

"Got that right," Brennan smirked, sharing a private old joke. Emma admired the interplay of muscles. Jesse carefully kept quiet.

Kenny led them inside, and Jesse silently admired the ostentatious display of new money. It had a familiar look to it: the heavy velvet drapes in a long single swath, the halls carpeted in pile so deep that the rug would qualify as a mattress. Even the entrance hall boasted its own fountain, the three cherubs maliciously squirting water through a white-washed computer tower. Jesse looked twice at that one: Merriwell had clearly had it made to order, to symbolize his luck at computer technology and thumb his nose at the world at the same time. He did a closer scan: the keyboard, also white-washed, had four keys depressed. The keys were A, S, C, and M.

"Shal did a perimeter sweep last night, checking out the lay of the land," Brennan informed them. "Good news, there's a fence around the whole estate, all five miles of it, with some of Kenny's finest tinker toys hard-wired in. Anyone climbing over that fence will set off a silent alarm in the house, and we'll have at least five minutes before they get close enough to do any damage."

"And the bad?" Emma asked.

Kenny shrugged. "Anyone flying over the fence or not touching it will get in undetected. It works by touch and proximity, but I can't do an entire shield over the estate. It's just too big, and there are too many things to go wrong. The ground hogs are playing havoc with the buried wires and there's a red fox that I swear is laughing at me every time he sets off the proximity alert."

Jesse acknowledged the limitations of the system. "How about inside?"

"That I have hard-wired," Kenny said. "Sensors on all the entrances and exits, all the windows, anything where anything bigger than a medium-sized rat could get in. Everything is hooked up to a central computer that sends a page to both me and to the local police."

"The police?" Brennan looked surprised. "He doesn't have his own squad of bodyguards?"

Kenny shrugged. "Up till now, he hasn't needed it. He hasn't been big enough to attract the attention of the big boys. Now that the CAMS chip is finished, it's a whole 'nother ball game." He gestured broadly at Mutant X. "Welcome to Mr. Merriwell's new team of bodyguards. Until he hires his own set, of course."

Brennan grinned equally as broadly. "Let's get started, troops."