Comments and Reviewer Notes: Thanks to dolphinology and US RANGER for reviewing Chapter One. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. I was hoping where the characters were in the future would make sense, since that would make this fic a vast improvement over my previous, challenge-inspired take on HEAT's future.

This chapter is longer than the first, so hopefully that will explain a bit of the extra wait.

When Even Hindsight is Clouded

Chapter Two: The Past Sneaks up on the Present

---Cambridge, Massachusetts---

The bell that hung over the cracked glass door of the Java Hut clanged as two men sporting overcoats and briefcases shuffled inside, escaping the chill of a New England autumn morning. A waitress raised an eyebrow at the odd couple that settled into a round, window-side table. The younger of the two, a brown-haired twenty-something that would've been rather handsome were it not for his oversized nose, exhibited signs of hyperactivity, no doubt a product of excited anticipation. His companion, a blond man in his forties, exuded wariness as he looked around, undoubtedly unhappy to be there.

Ignoring the curious looks that suddenly sauntered their way, Jonah smacked his metal briefcase on the tabletop with a grace befitting an elephant. Mendel winced in response, wishing desperately that he could crawl under the maple table to escape the stares that only increased with the ruckus.

"Oh don't look so mortified," Jonah flippantly addressed Mendel, "I'm used to this."

The blond could only stare incredulously. "Well it's great that you're used to being stared at like you're some kind of noisy freak, but I'm definitely not."

"Really? Well that's quite a surprise." Jonah ribbed.

Mendel's mouth only opened and closed before he set his features in a scowl. "You know I didn't agree to this little outing of your's just so I could be insulted." At the moment, Mendel couldn't quite remember why he had agreed in the first place. Coffee had sounded harmless enough, but considering he would be getting said coffee with Jonah Levine, he should have known better.

"No, you're right," Jonah acknowledged. "I was just having a little fun with you is all."

"Why is it that everyone who's ever known me equates teasing with 'fun,'" Mendel muttered darkly.

"You're an easy target Doc," the younger man answered, ignoring the rhetorical nature of the question. "But like I said, I didn't ask you to join me in this lovely little café to tease you."

"Of course," Mendel sighed, realizing the moment he had irrationally hoped to avoid had arrived. "So this is where you tell me about that proposition of your's, right?"

"You sure one of your many talents isn't telepathy?" Jonah grinned. "You're exactly right."

"You're predictable," came the bored reply as the robotist laid an elbow on the table and rested his face in one hand.

"I'd have to disagree, but then again, this isn't about me." Jonah stated.

"Amazing," Mendel said dryly. "You're concerned about something besides yourself."

"Spend more time with me and you'll find all sorts of surprises," Jonah good-naturedly replied.

"I'd rather not."

"I'm sorry to hear that," came the muffled response as Jonah leaned under the table to pick up a cardboard menu that had fallen to the floor. "But by the time we leave here, you may have changed your mind." He gestured to the listed specials. "You want anything?"

"No thanks," Mendel declined, glancing at his watch. He wished Jonah would just hurry up and explain this whole thing to him so he could say no – he had promised his mother he'd call after his presentation at the symposium.

The up-and-coming technology expert shrugged. "Your loss." He then waved a nearby waiter over. "Could I get a blueberry muffin and a cup of the Kenyan roast please?" The server nodded before scurrying away to file his order. "You know the coffee here is simply divine and they keep this nice little intimate atmosphere going – impressive considering it's a national franchise."

Mendel lazily traced the edge of the table with his finger, deciding Jonah needed more of a push before he'd quit stalling. "That's great. So are you going to tell me why we're here?"

"Oh I know exactly why I'm here." Jonah fixed Mendel with a stare. "The question is, why are you here?"

Sighing, Mendel replied, "I'm here because you wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to come."

"And that may be partially true," Jonah mused. "But there's more. My mention of using NIGEL in mutant-control couldn't help but pique your interest, because deep down, you miss your old life."

"Miss what?" Mendel snorted. "Being chased by bloodthirsty mutants, having to rebuild NIGEL every week, or having the military constantly breathe down my neck?"

"I'm sure there were other necks the military was huffing and puffing on more," the younger man replied. "And you won't get anywhere if you just focus on the bad."

"Really?" Mendel asked, genuine interest flaring up. "I should keep that in mind."

The corners of Jonah's lips quirked slightly before he checked his watch. "Alright, I'm running out of time here, so I'll make the rest of this quick."

'Finally,' Mendel thought, sitting up a bit straighter.

"About two weeks ago the government contacted me on behalf of the International Taskforce for Control of the Mutant Population." Jonah paused. "Are you familiar with it?"

"The M-Force," the blond nodded. "I know a thing or two about it."

"Great, then that saves me a few minutes of explanation," Jonah said in relief before continuing. "They've secured a multi-billion dollar contract with one of their regular contractors for cutting-edge anti-mutant technology."

Nothing out of the ordinary there. "So where do you come in?"

"I'm getting to it," Jonah replied. "The head honchos were rather impressed by the prototypes this contractor offered. Thing is, none of them had enough experience or know-how to understand exactly what each of them would be capable of. Solution? Call in an expert to evaluate this new technology's value beyond being shiny and haphazardly blowing stuff up."

"And they called you?" Mendel gaped.

"Hey I'm more well-known than you and many of your colleagues give me credit for." Jonah moved his briefcase out of his way so a waiter could place his muffin and coffee on the table. Taking a hearty sip of the Kenyan blend, he sighed in content. "You really should've tried this, Doc."

Ignoring the culinary advice, Mendel tried to figure out exactly where the enigmatic man was going. "How do I figure into this?"

Placing the oversize mug down on the table, Jonah dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "Well I'm not one to downplay my own expertise, but I'll admit I don't have much practical experience when it comes to this sort of thing." He broke off a piece of the muffin and chewed it before continuing. "I was already in town for the symposium and noticed you were listed as keynote speaker." Jonah shrugged. "Got the call when I just happened to be in town with one of the world's leading robotics experts, who by an off chance also used to chase mutants for a living. Call it fate."

"I call it an unfortunate coincidence," Mendel sighed, finally able to piece together what Jonah wanted.

"I take it you've unearthed my intentions then," Jonah bubbled happily. "What say you come along and help me out? You'd be doing a service to your country."

"Serving Uncle Sam isn't one of my top priorities right now," the robotics expert asserted. "And how do you know they'd even let me come along?"

"Considering they've been pestering you to work with them for years? I don't think they'd mind if you volunteered your services."

Mendel bit his lip, searching for more excuses. "I have classes."

Green eyes sparkled. "Nice try. I know you're on sabbatical to focus on your research."

"Fine," Mendel conceded, throwing away all pretenses. "Then I just don't want to do it."

Jonah nodded. "Well at least you're being honest. But just think about it for a second. What have you got to lose?"

"I can't even begin to list how many ways I could finish that sentence," the blond deadpanned.

"I'm not asking you to join the M-Force or anything like that," Jonah proceeded carefully. "I'm just asking you to meet with me, the contractor, and some representatives of the force."

Raising an eyebrow, Mendel asked, "Which representatives?"

The twenty-seven year old shrugged. "They didn't say. Does it matter?"

"It might," Mendel mumbled in reply before sighing. "You're not going to let up on this, are you?"

"I'm asking for two, maybe three hours tops," Jonah said encouragingly. "Well, that and the plane ride down to New York. You could fly back to Pittsburgh from JFK when this is all done."

Remaining silent for a long while, Mendel contemplated his options. He could always turn the irritating young know-it-all down. But that would probably spurn stalker-like tendencies, as Jonah wasn't known for letting go of a goal once he set his eyes on it. And it wasn't like there was anything particularly urgent waiting for him in Pennsylvania.

"Alright," the blond relented. "But I'm only agreeing to this meeting with the contractor. Nothing more," he said, stressing every word.

"No problem," Jonah eagerly replied as he motioned for his check. Dropping the required amount of money on the hard maple top, he grinned at his contemporary. "Now no more dawdling. We've got a plane to catch."

---New York, New York---

Thick mud squished beneath boots as a splattering of raindrops fell from the sky, enveloping what should have been a cheerful autumn morning in a dreary, cold, blanket. Leaves, soaked with polluted rainwater, clung to jackets and the undersides of shoes, only leaving their perch whenever a hand braved the mud and the chill to remove it. A small child, naïve as to the implications of her current whereabouts, gleefully played in the natural shower, sticking her tongue out to catch the rain until a stern arm yanked her back into place alongside her deadly quiet family.

Richard Reynolds loosened his grip on his umbrella as he checked his watch. "We have about fifteen minutes to spare," he said. "You sure that's enough?"

"It'll have to be," Nick absently replied, eyes focused on some unidentifiable point on the looming hilltop. He clutched the bouquet of recently purchased flowers in his left hand, a black umbrella occupying his right. "Wait here."

Having no choice but to do as he was told, Rich could only watch Nick try to pull his dark overcoat tighter around himself as he ascended up the hill.

The former oligochaetologist ignored the dull ache in his legs as he pushed himself up the slippery slope, occasionally having to pause to regain his balance when his feet slid backwards. Upon reaching the apex, tired blue eyes searched among the chillingly familiar markings for the one they desired. Finding his goal, Nick slowly made his way towards it, dreading what loomed before him, yet nonetheless longing to be there.

Kneeling, he discarded the umbrella, numb to the torrents that now soaked him. He stayed silent for a minute, collecting his thoughts before taking a deep breath. "I know I haven't come to see you in a while. I'm sorry. Work's been crazy, though you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

No response met his words. Assuming his sanity was fully in place, however, he had no reason to expect one. Instead, he only ran his gloved fingers over the engraving on the smooth stone surface.

Audrey Timmonds-Tatopoulos

1977-2008

"I don't have a lot of time to spend with you today," he apologized, "but I thought I should come here anyway." He smiled bitterly. "Our anniversary is in two weeks, and I don't know that I'll even be Stateside for it. Would've been five years. That's the 'wooden' anniversary." He paused thoughtfully. "We probably would have gotten that townhouse by now, so furniture would be an appropriate gift." A rueful smile decorated his features. "Though I would have had to consult you before buying anything rather than try to surprise you. You always were better at the sort of thing."

Nick swallowed hard, mentally forcing himself away from thoughts of what could have been. He'd never be able to move on if he kept painting a vivid mental picture of what could have been his life with Audrey. "Enough about that. I…well, I guess I could fill you in on what's been going on with me."

The gentle patter of rain filled the ensuing silence and Nick wondered why he even bothered to pause while speaking to her. "Life with the force has been…well, same old same old to a certain extent. You've listened to enough of my ranting about that." A dry chuckle escaped his lips before his air of gravity returned. "But something's different. Tony – he's different."

Nick sighed, the weight of the current murkiness that clouded his life combining with his grief to form an anchor in his chest. "We used to trust each other. We weren't the best of friends, and we didn't always agree, but I knew I could trust him. I knew he would never keep anything from me, especially after I started working so closely with the M-Force."

Biting his lip, the widower continued. "Now…now I don't think that's the case. I don't think Tony, or the higher-ups in the force, are being straightforward with me, and I can't imagine why." He paused. "This may sound morbid, but I'm hoping it's just because the 'mutant problem' as they like to call it has been increasing by orders of magnitude in the past few months. He may just be stressed, and he may not be able to relay every single new development to me."

A scowl suddenly appeared. "That still doesn't explain why he has me running errands and wooing sponsors rather than doing field-work lately." A light laugh. "Guess I wouldn't be much help when it comes to getting you the exciting inside scoops right now." He mulled over that last statement, anticipating Audrey's answer. "I know I don't have to answer to him, but I feel like I have no choice."

The beeping of his watch alerted him to the passing of the hour. He ignored it, staring intently at his wife's tombstone instead. "I'm worried, Dre. I'm worried that the mutant population is getting out of control, and that if I sour my ties to the people with the authority to take care of it, I'll be stuck on the sidelines with everyone else. My views will mixed in with those of anyone who's ever known enough about this to form an opinion." He drew in a ragged breath. "I can't let that happen. I owe it to too many people to not give up. I…I owe it to Godzilla, too."

He closed his eyes for a moment, memories of another painful loss flashing before him. "I may not have a lot of influence, but I have something, and that's what matters." His eyes moved heavenward for a moment, as he searched the sky for nothing in particular. "It's just that…it's hard. I can feel everything I've worked for these past eight years slipping away from me, and I don't know what to do." Nick faced the grave once again, and a passerby would have trouble telling if the streaks on his cheeks came from the rain, or recently shed tears. "I need you, Audrey. I've needed you this whole time. I can't do this alone." He took in another deep breath, eyes blinking furiously. "God knows I've tried, but it just doesn't work. One person doesn't have the power to take on our own government on this matter, let alone the combined strength of every developed nation."

His lips quirked in an odd smile. "One person doesn't, but two people might've. At least when one of those people has the power of the press behind them."

An abrupt ringtone suddenly cut through the air, as Nick's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He opened it up, finding a text message from Rich, politely but firmly reminding him about the time. "Right," he murmured before turning towards his lady's final resting place. "I'm going to have to cut this short."

Placing the flowers at her tombstone, Nick forced himself back to his feet and shook remnants of muddied leaves off his previously discarded umbrella. Though he appeared to be ready to leave his deceased wife for the moment, Nick remained rooted to the ground. His cell phone vibrated again, no doubt the result of Rich getting impatient. Nick, however, might as well have not felt it, as he had centered his entire being on the slate-grey stone structure in front of him. As of its own volition, his hand made its way to the pocket of his coat, retrieving a small, metallic item.

Cerulean eyes studied the object intently, despite having already memorized every aspect of its appearance. It was a circular charm of sorts, made of tarnished silver that had lost any luster it once possessed. In the middle of a thin halo lay the shape of a flame, so intricately detailed one could almost feel the heat from its core. He ran his thumb over its surface, the grief within him sinking to be replaced by vengeful anger.

It wasn't even her fault. Audrey had been away on assignment, and not wanting to spend the night in a van filled with broadcasting equipment, had opted to stay in a small motel for the night. Unfortunately for her, the room next door housed an FBI agent on the trail of a notorious, international crime ring. And said crime ring was not about to let anyone get the best of them.

Exactly what had happened was merely an educated guess on the part of the police, since there were no witnesses to the actual crime, and Audrey had been staying alone. From what they could gather from the crime scene, the assassin ran into a bit of trouble in eliminating the threatening federal agent. The chaos found in the agent's room could only point to a noisy struggle, which undoubtedly roused the curious reporter to step outside her room.

Her natural inquisitiveness, combined with ill-fated timing, would prove to be her undoing. Audrey found herself in the hall just as the battered assassin slumped into the hall, the agent lying dead on the floor behind her. Any criminal knew enough to eliminate those that had any grounds on which to incriminate them, and a petite reporter, no matter how tenacious, was no match for a trained killing machine.

Nick's fist clenched around the metal ring, his gloves preventing the sharply cut item from slicing into his skin. It just wasn't fair. Audrey was no threat to them; rather, she had been an unfortunate victim of circumstance and carelessness on the part of the assassin. If those sons of bitches had had the common sense to-

"Dr. Tatopoulos?" Rich had giving up on the cell-phone tactic and instead opted to scale the hilltop to personally retrieve the biologist.

Shaking his head, Nick used every ounce of willpower he could possibly call upon to return to a clearheaded state of mind. "I know. I'm sorry about this."

Rich stared at the rainwater-glazed tombstone before answering. "It's ok. But we really need to be going."

"Right," Nick said, taking a few steps backwards before turning. "Solstice headquarters isn't far, but we're to rendez-vous with Dr. Levine a block away."

"In front of a bookstore," Rich added, though he knew Nick probably remembered. He paused. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Nick called over his shoulder, any traces of emotion erased. "Let's get moving. We don't want to keep the lovely folks at Solstice Technologies waiting."

The dark-haired agent regarded the retreating figure skeptically. He decided, however, to keep any opinions to himself and followed in Nick's footsteps, pausing only to pay one last glance to the drenched bouquet, whose previously vibrant petals now drooped from the weight of an infinite number of stormcloud tears.

---Argentina---

"What fax?" Elsie asked, surprise on her face mixed with apprehension.

"This one," Jimmy replied, picking up a small piece of paper. "It doesn't say who it's from."

Kim snatched the paper out of his hands before reading it aloud. "Dr. Chapman, I apologize for my inability to deliver this request in person, but other engagements require my attention for the time-being. I'm sure you are aware of the current going-ons in Costa Rica. If you would perhaps be able to pause your paleontological studies to assist me, I would be forever in your debt."

Elsie regarded Jimmy critically. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The grad student shook his head insistently. "No, I swear it isn't." He grinned at her. "Kinda cool though isn't it? A mystery man sending you a cryptic note all the way out here."

Raising an eyebrow, Kim asked, "How do you know it's a man?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Wording sounds like it was written by some upper-class stooge."

Ignoring him, Elsie took the fax from Kim. "There's a phone number."

"To call them back I assume," Kim said, eyeing the note. "Want me to go get the satellite phone?"

"No," Elsie replied, haphazardly dropping the fax back onto a nearby table.

Shocked, Jimmy looked at her in dismay. "Aren't you going to call them back?"

"Why should I?" Elsie asked. "Whoever this is expects me to just drop everything here to grant them some kind of personal favor."

"They may have lost someone in Costa Rica," Kim offered gently. "They probably just want closure."

Elsie sighed. "It's not that I don't have sympathy for anyone like that, but what can I do?"

"You should at least call him back to say no," Jimmy pushed. "It would be rude not to."

"Kid's right," Kim agreed. "You never know, this could be a potential or even current sponsor. You don't want to burn any bridges, especially when said bridges are lined with gold."

"Money isn't an issue," Elsie lied, pulling out the stops to avoid following up on the enigmatic note. "And I don't care if I'm rude."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "What are you so afraid of?"

A pair of red eyebrows climbed Elsie's forehead in indignation. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Then why won't you call them back?" he asked skeptically.

"Because…" Elsie trailed off, racking her mind for how to finish that sentence.

"Because you're afraid that if you actually talk to them, they may have a chance of convincing you?" Kim offered, reading her friend like an open book.

"No," the redhead shot back. "I have my reasons. Thing is, I don't have to share them with you."

Ignoring the barb, Kim regressed to a more gentle type of prodding. "You don't even know what they want. Can't you just call them and find out?"

Elsie relented. "Fine. I'll give them a more direct rejection." She picked up the satellite phone and started to dial before she realized she still had an audience. "That is, I'll give them a more direct rejection after two little eavesdroppers give me some privacy."

Kim groaned good-naturedly while Jimmy gave her a curious look. "Why? It's not like you're calling your boyfriend or something."

"C'mon kiddo," Kim intervened before Elsie could say anything. "We've got work to do."

Rolling her eyes at Kim's departing wink, Elsie dialed the number on the fax and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" came an airy, female voice on the other end.

"Yeah, hi," Elsie began, wondering if Jimmy's hunch on the sender's gender had been wrong. "My name Elsie Chapman, and I received a fax asking me to call this number."

"Dr. Chapman?" came the surprised reply. "Oh wow, Mr. Worthington didn't think you'd call back."

Elsie snorted slightly. "Well that's one thing we've got in common."

"Um, ok," the young woman replied, slightly confused.

A few beats of silence passed before Elsie finally became impatient. "Well? Is anyone planning on telling me what all this is about?"

"Oh!" the voice on the other line exclaimed. "Oh right. You don't know, do you?"

Rubbing her temples, the paleontologist simply agreed. "No, I don't."

"Huh. That's too bad."

Exhaling in frustration, Elsie contemplated just hanging up. "Is there a way I could find out?"

"Oh of course," came the enthusiastic reply. "Mr. Worthington would be more than happy to tell you!"

"Great," Elsie said. Another long pause. "Can I talk to him?" she asked, gritting her teeth at the other's woman's denseness.

"Umm…"

The redhead sighed. "Is there a problem?"

"Well um…yeah."

Catching on to the fact that she couldn't rely on implied questions, Elsie pressed on. "And that is?"

"He's not here right now."

"Wonderful," Elsie muttered. "May I ask where exactly he is?" She listened as the other voice chattered away when her eyes suddenly widened. "He's what?"

"Elsie, er, Dr. Chapman, whatever!" Jimmy's voice called. "I think you should get out here!"

"Could you excuse me?" Elsie quickly said, hanging up before she could get a reply. Hurrying out of the tent, she froze in shock at the scene before her.

Her teammates scurried around the dig site, throwing coverings over the skeleton and uncovered bones and running into nearby tents for shelter. Dust clouded the air as the deafening beat of helicopter blades rang in her ears. "What's going on?" she yelled, covering her face with her left arm.

"I don't know!" Kim yelled back, before gesturing to the landing helicopter. "I don't even know who this is!"

Jogging over to the aircraft that was busy stabilizing itself, Elsie waved her arms. "This is a private dig! You can't…" she trailed off, as she caught the "Worthington Enterprises" painted across the helicopter and a portly old gentleman opened the door, smiling cheerfully at her. Realization sinking in, only a choice set of words escaped Elsie's lips.

"You have got to be kidding me."

---New Jersey---

A discordant medley of revving motors and indignant honks echoed off the interstate's sound barriers, protecting the ears of nearby residents, but only magnifying the discomfort of hassled drivers. One rolled down his window to scream profanities at a particularly reckless traveler while another crossed four lanes of traffic in ten seconds, allowing him to barely squeak into his exit lane.

In the midst of the rush hour chaos, a discrete black Lincoln smoothly made its way through the endless traffic, careful to obey each and every traffic law, including the speed limit. Such behavior may lead an outside observer viewing the occupants of such a vehicle as model drivers, if not model citizens. That observer, however, would be blissfully ignorant of the true motivations behind the painstakingly law-abiding driving.

Inside the vehicle, a red-haired vixen crossed her legs and regarded the car's other passenger coolly. "Did you get the details of your assignment?"

"Pas encore," came the equally cool reply. "But if you are ready to brief me, I assume we are close."

Blood red lips curved upwards but did not reveal the pearly whites that lay underneath. "Smart girl." She looked out the dark, tinted windows. "We'll be in the city in about twenty minutes."

"Newark?"

"New York."

A tense silence settled over the backseat of the car as the raven-haired woman let the information sink in. She hadn't visited that former residence of her's for a while. "Who is it?"

"Who indeed," the other woman laughed. "Someone rather important."

"Such as…?"

"We've got time," the redhead smirked. "Why don't you guess?"

Dark brown eyes narrowed threateningly. "I do not have time for games, Emerald."

"Well I do, my dear," Emerald replied. "And I also happen to know the details of your new mission, which I have every right to keep from you should I for any reason believe you are not capable of carrying it out."

La Minuit, or Midnight, grit her teeth before resigning herself to the older woman's riddles. "Political?"

"Corporate."

"Famous?"

"I assure you," Emerald began, "if you are successful, everyone will be talking."

The younger woman tilted her head. "Infamous, then?"

"Considering how many enemies he's made, I suppose that's the only way to describe him," Emerald replied airily.

Musing over this new information for a second, Midnight continued. "Who is the client?"

"Ah-ah-ah," the fellow agent chastised. "You know I can't reveal that."

"It would help in this little guessing game of your's," she answered.

"That it would," Emerald acknowledged. "But I still can't tell you."

"Fine," the junior agent replied, already bored. "Then I see no reason to continue."

Staring at her for a moment, Emerald let a little bit of classified information slip. "I can't reveal any identities, but let's just say our client stands to gain a lot from the target's death."

Well that was usually to be expected. Nevertheless, Midnight decided to indulge her. "Money? Power?"

Emerald grinned. "Curious little thing, aren't you? If you must know, it's both."

Made sense. Tackling a high profile assignment involved risks for both the assassin and the client. The Ring of Fire would never take such missions lightly, as failure meant certain ruin for the organization. Serious payoffs had to be in line for everyone involved. Well everyone except the unfortunate victim.

Jade eyes surveyed the outside surroundings. "We're closer than I thought," Emerald announced. Retrieving a small folder from a hidden compartment, she tossed the mission file over to her colleague. "Might as well give this to you now, in case you have any questions."

The less experienced assassin carefully read through the sparse documents contained within, eyebrows rising once she caught wind of the target's name. This would be her most-high profile case ever. Federal agents would surely be on both her's and the Ring's tail for years if she was successful. "How long do I have?"

"Hm?" Emerald asked, a bored expression on her face. "The client didn't say. Get it done fast."

The brusqueness of her reply was not lost on Midnight. "Mario assigned me to this?" she asked, referring to the leader of the Ring.

"Yes he did," Emerald bitterly replied. "Though I can't see why."

Lips coated in black lipstick smirked. "You think you would be better for this particular assignment?"

Cocking her head to one side, the senior agent took on a condescending air. "Of course I would. I simply don't have time for it." She lowered her eyelids dramatically. "Running the Ring can be rather trying, you know."

"Bien sûr. I just thought the compensation that must accompany such an assignment might lure you away from your 'very pressing' administrative duties." She smiled sweetly at the older woman. "Everyone knows brewing Mario's coffee can be extremely difficult."

Red lips twisted into an ugly scowl. "If you're saying I'm just his secretary-"

"Of course not," Midnight interrupted, feigning distraction. "Your duties go far beyond that of a secretary, as it's widely known that you attend to his, how should I say, more primal needs as well."

Emerald's eyes widened. "Are you calling me some kind of whore?"

"I do not believe I called you anything," the raven-haired woman replied dryly before returning to staring out the window, her repressed emotions in turbulence. The importance of the assignment, combined with Emerald's obvious jealousy, indubitably meant she was moving up in the ranks of the Ring. Were she a normal assassin, she would be thrilled. Targeting big to-do's certainly meant more risk, but a greater risk implied greater reward, as well as increased prestige and power within the Ring. If she succeeded in her current assignment, anyone who did not already know her name in the Ring of Fire would definitely become familiar with the black cat motif.

But the fact of the matter remained – she was not a normal assassin. She had not been inducted into the Ring by any ordinary means, and her motivations for maintaining her current lifestyle were probably not shared by any of her fellow agents. At times she wondered if she could erase it all and leave the entire Ring behind. Maybe go back and change just a few seconds of her past. Those moments of daydream, however, were always cut short by the nature of her reality. Whether or not she wanted to stay was inconsequential. She was an agent of the Ring of Fire, and she would remain so until the day she died.

"We're here." Emerald's voice cut into her thoughts, forcing her to focus her eyes on what lay beyond the tinted glass of the Lincoln. High-rise buildings towered above her as they reached to the heavens, a testament to the simultaneously hopeful and arrogant nature of humanity.

Gesturing to the driver to stop, Emerald fixed la minuit with one last stare. "We'll drop you off here. Remember it. It's where we'll pick you up." With a snap of her slender fingers, the door popped open.

Taking the hint, the dark-haired agent gracefully exited the vehicle, instantly transformed from deadly assassin to just another face in the crowd. Brown eyes took in her surroundings, memories of years past flashing before her as a familiar landmark caught her eye.

"Quit dawdling and get to work," Emerald ordered sternly. "This won't be an easy job, even for you."

"I am aware of that," Midnight calmly replied, though her nerves were on end at the severity of her mission. If she failed, she could not only kiss the Ring goodbye, but most likely her freedom and her life as well. For even if the Feds did not catch her, the Ring most certainly would. And they had no time to be bothered with inconveniences such as due process.

"Well then act like it," the senior agent shot back. Sliding back into her seat, Emerald moved to shut the door when she paused. "You have three days. Don't mess up." With that, she slammed the door shut and the black Lincoln peeled away.

Placing the mission file into a sleek black briefcase, Midnight easily merged into the mass of New Yorkers rushing back and forth. 'If we were ever to meet again, Monsieur Winter,' she thought, sending a message that would never meet its recipient, 'I cannot say I expected it to be like this.'

---New Mexico---

"Zelcroft customer service, how may I help you?"

"I was running your financial calculator program and my computer screen just went totally blank."

"That's probably a hardware rather than software issue, but I can still help. Is it a blue screen or does it look like it's turned off?"

"Huh??"

"What color is the screen?"

"Not quite black; it's a kind of dark grey."

"Ok. Is the monitor on?"

"What's a monitor?"

"The TV part."

"Oh. I don't know."

"Look at the bottom of the monitor, er, TV. Is there a little green light on?"

"No, no light."

"Maybe a red or orange light then?"

"Nope, nothing."

"Ok. Do you see a power button for your monitor?"

"Power button?"

"A button that makes the TV turn on."

"Oh. Umm, I see some buttons."

"Do you know which one is the power button?"

"No."

"Do you see a small circle with a line through it?"

"What?? It's a square and there are no lines!"

"…Ok. Just push every button and see what happens."

"Alrighty then. Hm."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing?"

"Yup."

"Alright, can you take a look at your CPU?"

"My what??"

"Your CPU, m'am."

"What in God's name is that?"

"The tall, rectangular part of your computer. It's what you put discs and stuff like that in."

"Ohh, you mean the engine?"

"Er, ok, sure."

"Oh thank goodness. I thought you were making a pass at me."

"Um, I assure you m'am, at Zolcroft we know to always maintain a high level of professionalism."

"That's nice to know. Because you know some people get their jollies from talking dirty on the phone."

"…Right. So can you look at the engine?"

"It's under my desk."

"Even so, can you look at it?"

"I think so…ok, I'm on the floor."

"Perfect, I guess. Can you see your computer?"

"I'm looking at it right now."

"Do you see any small lights?"

"No. It looks dead."

"I'm sure it's not. Do you know where the power button on your computer is?"

"Always with the power buttons. No, I don't know."

"Then how do you turn it on?"

"I never turn it off."

"That's not good for the computer."

"Oh no…do you think that's why it suddenly stopped working?"

"Maybe, but most likely, no. Press all the buttons on the CPU."

"Ok."

"Did anything happen?"

"No."

"And you pressed all the buttons?"

"Yes."

"Ok, then we're going to have to check the power supply. Can you reach behind the CPU and feel any wires?"

"Just a second. Alright, I feel some thick ones."

"Good. Do they all feel like they're plugged in?"

"Yeah, they do."

"Hmm, ok. I need you to put the phone down for a second so you can get a better view. Crawl under your desk if you need to and see if the wires are plugged into anything."

"Fine." Loud rustling and a few noisy bumps could be heard for a good while. "I'm back."

"Were the wires plugged in?"

"I don't know."

"…Why not?"

"Because it's too dark."

"Too dark?"

"Yeah. The lights are all off."

"Well then turn the lights on."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"There's a power outage."

A few seconds of absolute silence passed as the temporary tech support representative took in this new information, and the fact that he had spent twenty minutes on the call. "Mother-!"

-----------

"Now Mr. Hernandez, at Zolcroft, we strive to make our customers comfortable, make them feel special. After all, it's impossible to run a successful business if one's customers are unhappy."

Randy shifted uncomfortably in his leather seat, eyes darting around his supervisor's office. "I know, sir.

"Do you?" Mr. Niedermeyer asked, eyes narrowing. "Because I don't know why anyone would think a customer would enjoy being cursed at."

"I didn't curse at her," the nervous employee replied. "I didn't even curse. I just said-"

"I know what you said, and I don't care to hear it repeated." The balding manager removed his glasses to increase the effectiveness of his glare. "It was more than inappropriate."

"But she called for tech support in the middle of a power outage," Randy pleaded. "Shouldn't the fact that she had to use her cell phone rather than her desk phone have clued her in?"

"Are you implying she's stupid?" Mr. Niedermeyer asked, expression critical.

"Well, no…"

"Because in addition to not enjoying spewed profanities, our customers also don't enjoy being made to feel stupid," Mr. Niedermeyer interrupted.

"I didn't make her feel stupid," Randy stated. "I was very patient with her the whole time."

"Obviously not patient enough," the supervisor flippantly replied before turning serious. "Mr. Hernandez, despite your excellence performance these past two years, this incident forces me to seriously reconsider the terms of your employment."

"In my defense, sir," Randy said, desperation sneaking into his tone, "I'm not even supposed to be on tech support. I'm a programmer." In fact the last time he had served as tech support was six years ago, when a former boss had tried to stay up a few hours too many while wrestling with an endless pill of bills and had spilled coffee on his laptop.

The middle-aged man raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you're not qualified to handle a customer's minor technical difficulties?"

"No, no, I'm more than qualified," the software engineer clarified. "I just think I would be put to better use on the coding side of the company. I never even received any kind of training in how to handle customer service calls."

"I thought you were more than qualified," Niedermeyer replied dryly.

Randy exhaled in frustration. "You know what I mean!"

"I'm afraid I don't." The older man's expression was overly grave, as if it were only for show. "I can't say losing an employee as talented as yourself will be a boon for Zolcraft."

"Sir," Randy began, "Please…"

"But we have an image of courtesy and professionalism to uphold," Niedermeyer finished, previous affected gravity replaced with smug satisfaction. "Ms. Dale will help you clear your desk if you need it. I hope you understand."

"No," the disgruntled twenty-six year old replied as he rose from his seat, fists clenched. "But I won't waste any more of your time."

-----------

"You got fired?!"

"Yeah," Randy bitterly replied, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he stuffed various files and folders into cardboard moving boxes.

"What did you do?" Candy asked incredulously.

"Not what you're thinking," her husband assured her. "I just let a not-so-nice phrase slip while substituting for someone on tech support."

A long pause. "You cussed a customer out?" the voice on the other end cried.

"No!" Randy insisted. "I didn't." Sighing, he awkwardly placed a box on top of the corner of his cubicle. "It's just that it was this incredibly long, difficult call, and at the end…" He paused. "Let's just say I realized was completely wasting my time."

"Even so, that doesn't mean you can-"

"Look, Candy," Randy interrupted, frustration clear in his voice, "I already got chewed out by Mr. Niedermeyer. I don't need to hear it from you too."

Her voice softened. "I'm sorry hun. I know how things were…he was probably just looking for a reason to get rid of you."

"Tell me about it," he muttered. "I know losing my job really sucks, but in a way I'm relieved to be out of here." Randy bit his lip. "Only thing is I now don't know what I'm going to do."

"You'll find a job," Candy said encouragingly.

"After being fired for being rude to a customer?" Randy asked skeptically.

"Well…" she trailed off.

Randy sighed. "See?"

Another long pause. "Tell you what."

"What?"

"An old friend called in a favor earlier today, and the big boys approved. Should be a short case, and afterwards I asked for some time off," Candy replied.

Not quite catching on, Randy pressed for more information. "And…?"

Though he couldn't see it, his wife was grinning. "How would you feel about a Central American vacation?"

---Argentina---

The light clicking of plastic cups and saucers was all that could be heard in the stillness of the small, crowded tent. Ever the gracious hostess, Kim had brewed tea for Elsie and their unexpected guest, and now placed two cupfuls in front of the pair. The kindly old man expressed his thanks before lifting his cup to his lips and proclaiming the blend simply divine. Elsie, on the other hand, ignored the tea, opting instead to continue to stare at the new arrival in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Placing his cup of steaming tea back on its saucer, Mr. Worthington good-naturedly ignored the bluntness of her request, remaining amiable. "I'm so sorry my dear, I haven't formally introduced myself, have I?" Taking Elsie's blank stare as confirmation, he continued. "My name is Phillip Worthington. I sent you a fax earlier today."

"A fax saying you had other things to attend to," Elsie said, still confused.

"Yes that's true, as I wasn't sure if I would be able to make it all the way here today," he explained. "The weather off Southeastern coast of Mexico was rather frightful."

"So you braved a Mexican storm to come all the way out here," the redhead mused. "I hope you have a good reason."

"I have an excellent one," Worthington assured her. "Though it will take a bit of explaining on my part."

"I'll bet," Elsie replied dryly before motioning for him to continue. "So you might as well start now."

"Very well then," Phillip obeyed, smoothing down his tie. "As you can see from the helicopter, my family owns a rather successful corporation."

"I've heard of Worthington Enterprises," Elsie nodded. "It's a big conglomerate, isn't it?"

"That it is," Phillip smiled. "Besides a large shipping and manufacturing business, one of our subsidiaries, WorTech, specializes in biotechnology."

Biotechnology? Elsie knew there were few paths a road starting there, combined with a sudden interest in a behavioral specialist that used to work with mutants, could take.

"We were especially known for genetic engineering," Worthington continued. "WorTech worked with, and in some cases employed, the world's leading experts on genetics. We were recognized as one of the leading biotechnology companies."

Elsie gave him a pointed stare, opting to get straight to the point. "Something went wrong, didn't it?"

The elderly man sighed. "We didn't mean for anything to happen."

"Forgive me for sounding cliché," Elsie snorted, "but the road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"I suppose it is," Phillip quietly agreed. "Even so, I hope you'll hear me out."

Elsie sighed, and nodded. "It can't hurt."

Smiling gratefully, Phillip picked up where he left off. "We had a research lab in Costa Rica. Not on the mainland, but on an uninhabited island off the coast. We didn't want to take any unnecessary risks." He paused. "But apparently our geographical safeguards did not prove foolproof."

"You think your company has something to do with the attacks taking place in Costa Rica?" Elsie asked, though she already knew the answer.

"I fear we have everything to do with them," Worthington explained. "We had a…project of sorts. One that proved to be a bit much to handle."

Raising her eyebrows, Elsie inquired as to what kind of project that was.

Phillip shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to say." His voice was apologetic. "I will tell you that the results were quite unexpected, and our researchers did their best to clean up the mess they created. We boarded up the facilities and burned everything – files, tissue samples, synthesized chemicals, etc."

"Obviously that wasn't enough," Elsie observed, "or you wouldn't be here today."

"You're quite right," Worthington acknowledged. "We thought we had the situation under control, and for several months, that appeared to be the case. But with the recent tragedies in Costa Rica, I'm no longer sure we successfully averted disaster."

"You're not sure if those attacks had anything to do with your pet projects?" Elsie asked, trying to get a better handle on the situation.

"Since no one's gotten a good look at what's responsible, no," Phillip replied. "There is also the matter of the distance between the research facilities and the beach on which the attacks take place. We can't be sure the…experiment…could travel that distance unaided." Sighing again, he added, "Of course it's not like we ever ran any tests on endurance."

"Where do I come in?" the paleontologist asked, hoping to get to the heart of the matter. The quicker he asked for her help, the quicker she could turn him down.

"Well the combined efforts of the Costa Rican government and the international taskforce assigned to dealing with mutations have come up fruitless." Worthington folded his hands across his lap. "No one knows any more about this nighttime predator now than we did when the first hunt occurred."

"Sounds like a tough case," Elsie replied. "I'm sure the M-Force can handle it."

Hints of a smile tugged at the senior citizen's lips. "Do you honestly believe that?"

"My opinion on how effectively the world is handling this issue doesn't really matter." Elsie brushed some hair out of her face. "The fact remains, the force and local governments are the only ones with the authority and resources to do anything about it."

"I may be getting on in years," Worthington said sympathetically, "but I do know that wasn't always the case." He eyed her. "You of all people should remember that."

Else sighed. "Believe me, I remember. But that's not necessarily a good thing."

Phillip hesitated for a second. "You're a well-known behavioral paleontologist, and one of the only ones who's had real experience with mutations over a long period of time. If you could perhaps accompany me on a short trip down to Costa Rica to take a look at things…"

"I'm sorry," the redhead interrupted, "but that's a part of my past I would rather not revisit. My work in paleontology is my life now, and I don't have time to let anything distract me from that."

"This wouldn't be a lengthy distraction," Phillip offered. "Just a few days down on the beach and a bit of time in the Costa Rican jungle is all I ask."

"I have rather pressing matters to attend to here," Elsie replied firmly. "We just uncovered a possible Carnotaurus fossil."

"And that fossil would be waiting for your critical scientific eye once you returned." Phillip leaned forward a bit. "I know you probably don't have a lot of sympathy for me or my company, and that's understandable. But if you were to just devote a matter of days to this, there could be an innumerable number of people that owe you their lives."

Elsie bit her lip. He certainly was persistent.

"The present anti-mutant teams have all but failed. We need someone who can both find those hidden clues that have been overlooked, and put them together to form some insight into the matter. Perhaps why it hunts at night, its fondness for the beach, what kind of prey it's most likely to go after…"

"There are behavioral specialists already working with the force," Elsie asserted. "I wouldn't add much."

"Ah, but I think you in particular have a lot to add," he responded. "You have both a brilliant mind and a good amount of practical experience. I have no doubt that you would be best suited for the job." He rose from his seat. "Nevertheless, I need to be going. I have another specialist to rendez-vous with in Costa Rica. Tell your colleague that her tea-making skills are unparalleled." He made his way to the door before turning. "I'll wait for fifteen minutes. Please give my request some serious consideration."

"Look, I certainly appreciate your coming all this way to speak to me, but my answer is still-,"

"Just think about it," he said, gently cutting her off.

"Fine," Elsie conceded, moving to hold the tent flap open as he left. After he hobbled out, Kim came rushing in to replace him. The fiery-haired woman smirked. "You weren't eavesdropping, were you?"

"Of course not," Kim lied, before turning serious. "So are you going to do it?"

"If you heard enough to know what 'it' is," Elsie replied, "you should also know my answer."

Kim looked visibly deflated. "Come on Else, what have you got to lose?"

"Oh just everything I've worked for these past six years," she retorted.

The blonde rolled her eyes. "He's not asking you to drop all of this forever. He just wants your help for a few days."

Elsie sank into a metal folding chair. "It doesn't matter how long it is. I'm not going back to that."

Squatting so that she was eye-level with the now-seated Elsie, Kim's expression was thoughtful. "I don't know everything that happened during your time with HEAT," she began, "and I also don't know why you left." She paused. "You try to make it seem like you were miserable the whole time, but when you lighten up and tell us some stories…" she trailed off. "You seem happy, Else. Like anyone would be when reflecting on good times. No matter what you say, I think you really enjoyed your time there, moreso than you enjoy this."

"What are you talking about?" Elsie exclaimed, shocked. "I pour my entire life into my work now!"

"I know you do," Kim assured her. "Everyone does. But that doesn't mean it's necessarily what you're meant to do."

Rolling her eyes, Elsie only said, "Don't tell me you believe in destiny or anything like that."

"Well, maybe," the blonde replied. "I believe we all have a purpose in life, but we can sometimes get thrown off-track in figuring out what that purpose is."

"My purpose then," the older woman smirked, "is to sport a perpetual cough from all the dust I inhale while digging up dinosaur bones."

Kim shook her head. "All jokes aside Else, I think you should really consider Worthington's offer. It's a good way to dabble back in what you used to do without a huge commitment. I can hold down fort here until you get back."

Elsie sighed. "I don't know Kim…"

"Fate works in mysterious ways," Kim smiled. "Worthington came to you for a reason."

"Yeah," Elsie snorted. "To try and bail his careless company out."

Shaking her head, Kim defended the old man. "He seems sincere, not to mention fed up with the incompetence of the M-Force. He knows who'd be best for the job."

Closing her eyes, Elsie took a deep breath before uttering one word that she was sure she'd later regret. "Fine."

Surprised,the younger womanmade sure she heard correctly. "You'll do it?"

"Why are you so shocked?" Elsie asked, amused. "You're the one who's been pestering me about it." She got up to leave the tent and speak to Phillip. "I may be jaded, but I'm not heartless. If there's a way for me to help the people of Costa Rica without giving up my current work, I might as well take it." She shrugged. "At the very least, it's good karma."

The upper corner of Kim's lips twitched. "You believe in karma, but think destiny is a load of crap?"

"Not a load of crap," Elsie called over her shoulder as she moved towards Phillip's helicopter. "Just a tad less reliable than the newspaper horoscope."

Coming up towards the side of the Worthington aircraft, Elsie knocked on the door. Phillip opened it, smiling widely. "Dr. Chapman! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's your lucky day Worthington," she said. "I'm in. But only for this one trip."

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "We'll have a wonderful time together!"

"Yeah," Elsie muttered at the man's incomprehensible delight at the prospect of going on a wild goose chase after a man-eating monster. "That is, if I don't shoot myself first."

---New York, New York---

Pulling his light jacket tighter around himself, it took all of Mendel Craven's willpower to keep his teeth from chattering as another sharp gust of wind blew past. The vast majority of New Yorkers ignored the cold, concentrating solely on reaching their next destination in the quickest possible time as they bumped and shoved each other, at times accidentally, at other times, not. Mendel jumped out of the way as one ill-timed shove sent a woman's open cappuccino splattering to the ground mere inches from his feet. He smiled weakly at her rushed apology, opening his mouth to say it was fine. But before he could do so, the woman brushed herself off and pushed past him, the incident forgotten. He pressed his lips in a thin line. "Oh how I love New York. Can't see why I don't come back more often."

Jonah grinned at him. "In a sarcastic mood I see. If you hate this place so much, why exactly do you ever come back?"

"I don't hate it," Mendel clarified, "and Mother lives here."

"Ah," the younger man nodded in understanding before checking his watch. "They're late."

"Good," the robotist said. "Maybe they're not coming."

Jonah laughed. "I'm sure they're coming. They probably just encountered an unexpected delay. Heard they're flying in from pretty far away."

Shifting uncomfortably, Mendel became uneasy. "Well are we just going to stand here forever?"

"Not forever." Jonah checked his watch again. "But definitely for another good half-an-hour."

"Maybe you can stand out here for another thirty minutes," the blond snorted. "but I definitely won't."

"There aren't any flights to Pittsburgh for another six hours." Jonah shrugged. "You might as well stay here. Nothing to do in an airport."

"You mean a heated airport," Mendel muttered, rubbing his hands together. He eyed the inside of the bookstore they were currently stationed at, focusing on the cozy coffee shop. "Think I have time to get a drink to warm me up?"

Jonah waved him off. "Knock yourself out – metaphorically speaking." He smiled playfully at Mendel. "Don't hit the liquor too hard."

Rolling his eyes, Mendel ignored the last barb, biting off his comment about not caring too much for alcohol. Instead, he eagerly pushed open the glass door to the Borders store, escaping the chilly autumn weather in favor of heated comfort. Making his way through throngs of people browsing through books and CDs, he finally reached the counter for the coffee shop. "Excuse me?"

The clerk turned from his conversation with a fellow employee. "Yeah?"

"I'd like a small, plain, decaf, please," Mendel requested.

The teenager eyed him suspiciously. "That's it? A plain decaf?"

Mendel nodded. He'd probably be allergic to half the ingredients of anything more complicated. "That's all."

The cashier shrugged. "Ok then." He punched Mendel's order in the cash register while simultaneously calling for someone to get started on it.

The forty-two year old waited patiently for a few moments until his order was filled, handing the appropriate payment over to the cashier before accepting his steaming up of decaffeinated coffee. He took a hearty sip as he made his way through the ever-present crowd, careful not to bump into anyone and inadvertently spill the precious beverage. Glancing outside, he could see Jonah talking to two other men. One looked to be in his mid-twenties and wore the dark uniform universally associated with the M-Force.

'It's about time,' he thought, quickening his pace so as to get the whole ordeal over with. But then the other man turned around and Mendel froze, almost turning his coffee into a dark splash of liquid on the floor.

-----------

"Ready to take a break?" a portly middle-aged man asked as his colleague headed for the door.

"Pretty much, yeah," Ben replied. "Want me to get you something?"

Joe, his fellow security guard shook his head. "Naw, I'm good. No one coming in at this time anyway…everyone's out to lunch. Probably don't even have to stay awake."

"Didn't the Boss say something about two people flying in for some important meeting though?" Ben asked.

"Eh, whatever," Joe shrugged. "If they're supposed to be here then they won't mind waiting a minute or two for me to check their creds."

"Right," the blond said as he walked out the door before calling over his shoulder, "But you should still stay awake!"

Joe laughed heartily as he waved goodbye. Propping his legs up on his desk, he moved to lean back in his chair until a solid blow to his head caused him to slump to the ground.

-----------

The formerly two-man ensemble outside the Borders had grown to three, despite losing an original member. "Once again, I'm sorry we're late," Nick apologized. "It was my fault."

Jonah waved his apology off. "No problemo. I love waiting outside in the cold."

Nick regarded him strangely. "Right."

Stepping in, Rich made sure Jonah knew what was going on. "Have you been briefed?"

"Uncle Sam wants to know if Solstice's new bag of toys is the real deal," Jonah replied. "No big." He paused. "I did bring someone that had some practical experience in the matter along. I hope you don't mind."

Rich blanched. "This is a rather sensitive meeting. You can't just invite people to tag along without permission."

"I didn't think it would be a big deal," Jonah replied, before eyeing Nick. "Though I didn't know you would be here."

"Why would that…" Rich began to ask, before catching a glimpse of his brown-haired colleague.

Nick's jaw had suddenly tensed and his eyes were focused on a point beyond Jonah. Keeping his voice eerily neutral, he curtly nodded. "Mendel."

The man who was now the subject of three stares tried not to wince. "Hi Nick."

"How's MIT?" Nick asked, voice still tight.

"Actually, I'm at Carnegie Mellon now," Mendel quietly corrected.

"Oh," the biologist replied, bitterly amused. "Nice to know your inability to stick with one employer for more than two years crossed over to the academic world."

Brown eyes glared. "You know I-"

"So," Rich interrupted, trying to diffuse the obvious tension. "So, do you two know each other?"

"You could say that," Nick answered before turning to Jonah. "I take it this is your friend with the practical experience?"

"Yeah," the twenty-seven year old replied. "I thought he would be a big help. He'd only have to stay for this meeting."

Rich opened his mouth to protest when Nick cut him off. "That's fine. I'm sure Dr. Craven would know more than any of us about how well Solstice's prototypes would translate into the field."

Mendel shrugged awkwardly. "Not necessarily."

Several beats of silence passed, as no one knew quite what to say. Rich finally found the courage to speak. "We're cutting it close time-wise. Shouldn't keep Solstice waiting."

"Of course we shouldn't," Nick said, though his expression darkened. Catching this, Mendel was thankful there was someone else who Nick apparently disliked even more than him.

-----------

Stuffing the now unconscious security guard under his desk, Midnight set to work on the video monitors. They seemed to cover mostly hallways and areas in which what could only be described as trade secrets were stored. Scanning the small white print at the top-right corner of each one, she finally found "Wntroffice." Typing away furiously at the keyboard controlling what each screen displayed, she replaced the office view with that of some workers droning away in cubicles.

Satisfied, Midnight scanned the upper walls. Finding an air duct, she hoisted herself on top of a shelf, popped it open, and crawled inside. It was uncomfortably warm, but her reliance on stealth required tolerance for less than ideal conditions.

Now there was only the task of finding Winter's office. Seeing as it was about thirty stories up, she used the air ducts to discretely make her way to the unused maintenance elevator. Once there, Midnight made sure the coast was clear before sliding out of the duct and into the elevator.

Elevators were risky, as she couldn't be sure no one else would use it. But the stairs would take longer, and since it was broad daylight out, she couldn't try to scale the skyscraper from the outside. She'd just have to place her bets on the janitors taking a break.

Slender fingers with black painted nails felt along the ceiling of the elevator, stopping when they came to rest on a small hatch. Waiting for the trip to be halfway complete before pushing the elevator's emergency stop and then punching the hatch open, Midnight hoisted herself up and on top of the elevator. Pulling on gloves that would give her a better grip, the assassin began to scale the thick wires that supported the elevator. It would be a long trip, and was certainly still dangerous if someone else decided to use the lift, but she'd rather risk being crushed by an immense elevator car barreling straight at her than risk being discovered by some unsuspecting maid. Not that she couldn't take care of said maid. She just wanted to leave as few tracks, or in this case dead bodies, as possible.

Arms burning and muscles screaming at her in rage, she finally made it to her destination. Taking a deep breath and jumping to the small ledge that would dock with the elevator car, she summoned whatever strength remained in her arms to force open the doors. Not even pausing to catch her breath, she quickly jumped up into that floor's air duct so as to avoid being seen.

The heat within the air ducts was even worse when combined with aching muscles. Scorching-hot metal would have burned her skin were it not for her gloves and the dark, full-body covering that made up her usual ensemble. Hair twisted into a tight bun completed the simple but effective look.

Peering through the grill of a nearby vent, Midnight squinted to make out the figures in the room. A woman was busy typing. Petite; brunette; short, flipped hair…matched the description of Winter's secretary. Surmising that his office was nearby, she continued straight ahead until she could see into a spacious room lined with bookcases, frames, and mahogany furniture. It was also unoccupied, though that wouldn't be the case for long.

-----------

A light knock on a cherry-wood, glossy countertop did not serve to alert any Solstice employees to the presence of four men waiting in their lobby. Nick frowned. "Hello?"

"Strange," Rich mused. "You'd think they'd have a receptionist or a security guard here."

Blue eyes traveled over the small TVs built into a cabinet. "Looks like it's security." He leaned on the counter. "Or at least, it would be if anyone were here."

Mendel had remained quiet for a while, still not comfortable with being there in the first place. A slight groan, however, caught his attention. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Jonah asked, confused.

Another groan. "I heard it," Rich stated, looking to Nick for confirmation. After seeing the biologist nod, the M-Force agent stealthily leapt over the security desk and quickly retrieved the assaulted guard who was finally starting to wake up. "Well this was unexpected," he quipped.

Nick frowned. "What happened?"

"You might want to slow down there," Jonah prodded, "I don't think he's ready to start talking."

Rich hoisted the chubby guard over the desk until Nick eased him down to the floor. "Does anyone have some water?"

"Mendel's got coffee," Jonah offered until he saw the look on the robotist's face. "Or he may have already drank it."

The biologiststared at him for a moment, but a cheerful voice cut off any reply he may have been formulating. "Hello there! Welcome to Solstice Technologies!"

Hopping back over the desk, Rich extended a hand. "I'm Rich Reynolds, and this is my colleague Nick Tatopoulos. Drs. Jonah Levine and Mendel Craven will be joining us for the presentation." He looked down. "But before all that, you have a situation you might want to take care of."

"Oh dear," the woman trailed off before whipping out a cell phone. "Troy, we have something down here that needs to be looked at."

"Is there a hospital nearby?" Nick asked. "It doesn't look too serious, but he still needs medical attention."

"I assure you, Dr. Tatopoulos, we are more than capable of handling this ourselves," she replied, voice frosty.

'My reputation precedes me,' Nick thought to himself. 'Might as well try to keep at least one trip to this God-forsaken corporation free of any unpleasantness.' He subsequently relented, leaving the guard to the two Solstice employees that had just stepped off the lobby's elevator.

"I hope you will excuse my manners, as I haven't properly introduced myself," the woman continued. "My name is Donna Marfield, and I work in marketing here at Solstice."

Rich nodded. "I believe we spoke over the phone."

"That we did," Donna agreed. "But there's been a slight change of plans."

Both Nick and Mendel were instantly wary. "What kind of change?" Nick asked.

"Trust me," Donna reassured them, "it's a good one. Our CEO, Cameron Winter, was so thrilled at the prospect of such a huge government contract that he insisted on speaking to some representatives of the M-Force in person." She glanced at the clock. "But he's a bit pressed for time, so if perhaps two of you could meet with him and then join the others at the presentation." Giving the ragtag group a once-over, she added, "However you want to split that up is up to you."

"I'll meet with Cameron," Nick stated firmly before anyone else could even open their mouths. "And Mendel will come with me."

The CMU professor was shocked on two accounts. First, that Nick would volunteer himself for a personal meeting with Winter. Second, that Nick would force him of all people to come along. Mendel wasn't in the mood for an argument, however, and so let it slide. If they seemed to be on speaking terms, he could ask about it later.

-----------

Through her obscured view from the ventilation system, Midnight could see the form of a woman enter the office and shuffle through some papers on the desk. Though she didn't have a clear view, the profile seemed to reveal the secretary. Footsteps indicated the presence of another, a fact which the ensuing conversation would confirm.

"Do you have everything ready?"

"Yes. Mr. Winter will be back in a few minutes."

"Give him some time to get settled, then send our two guests in."

"Right," the secretary said, moving out of view, and Midnight assumed, out of the office. Her voice could still be heard as she lowered it. "We didn't know that he would be coming…Boss is going to have to pull a number on him if we want to get this through."

Not knowing nor particularly caring about what she was referring to, Midnight only listened intently for the telltale click of a closing door. Once she heard it, she swiftly opened the duct and slid out, remembering to put the grill back in place once finished.

Brown eyes quickly surveyed the office for a decent hiding spot. Nothing would be as good as the vent, but from what the secretary had said, she'd only have a few minutes of Winter alone, and so needed to be able to strike quickly. Her eyes came to rest on a short, oddly shaped bookcase. Undoubtedly avant-garde furniture, the front shot down rigidly straight while the back curved. The positioning of the books also made it seem like the bookcase part of it ended somewhere in the middle of the structure. Moving the object as quietly as possible, Midnight was rewarded with the sight of a small crawl space.

Voices could be heard outside. Making haste, the assassin squeezed herself into the available space, pulling the bookcase back into position before anyone could sense something was amiss.

-----------------------------------

Lila, Cameron Winter's administrative assistant, smiled broadly at the pair seated in his waiting room as she closed the door to his office. "Mr. Winter is running a little late," she explained. "But I have it on good authority that he will be up shortly."

Nick nodded. "Great. We'll just make ourselves comfortable until he's ready."

"Of course you will," she replied, voice sugary-sweet. Glancing awkwardly from one man to the other, she inquired as to whether they would like any coffee while they waited.

"That would be wonderful," Nick replied. "I'll take mine black while my friend here would rather have decaf, easy on the sugar, but generous when it comes to cream."

Lila gave them a small, polite nod before scurrying out of the room, glad for an excuse to not have to stay and make small talk.

Mendel regarded Nick out of the corner of his eye. "I just had coffee."

"It's decaf," his former boss answered quickly. "One more cup won't hurt."

Silence.

"You take it black now?" the blonde hesitantly asked.

"Cream just dilutes it," Nick succinctly replied, not eager to go into an explanation about his change in coffee habits.

More silence. Nick rose from his seat. "Stay here."

Mendel blinked in surprise, hoping Nick didn't mean to leave him to face Winter alone. "Where are you going?"

"Just investigating a few things," the brunette called over his shoulder as he moved towards Winter's office.

Brown eyes practically bugged out of a round, bearded face. "What do you think you're doing? You can't just sneak into his office!"

Sighing in exasperation, the biologist turned to face his former teammate. "A security guard for a cushy corporate headquarters is found stuffed under his desk, unconscious, in the middle of the day. You don't think something's up?"

"It's a possibility," Mendel began, "but there are tons of innocent explanations for why that might have happened."

"You're right," Nick acknowledged. "Except this is Solstice."

Sighing, Mendel only said, "I see you don't let go of past grudges."

Blue eyes narrowed. "What passed between Winter and me was more than a grudge."

"I know, I know," the robotist ejected before Nick could start a tirade. "But what possible motivation could he have for sabotaging a gigantic government contract? His company would lose billions!"

"A lot of the technology used in that contract would help me," the younger man forced out, gritting his teeth.

Mendel could only roll his eyes. "Not everything is about you, you know."

"And I never said it was," Nick shot back. "But this is Winter. I know him better than you or any other person here does. I know enough not to trust him."

Staring at the brown-haired M-Force collaborator, Mendel finally asked, "By some strange leap of logic, does this have anything to do with why you asked me to come up here with you?"

"If you must know," the former oligochaetologist replied disdainfully. "It does."

Confusion painted the blonde's features. "Why?"

"Because I could trust you more than Rich or Dr. Levine. Rich wouldn't take kindly to my snooping around a sponsor's office, and I don't know Jonah well enough to know what he'd think." Nick fixed his gaze on Mendel. "But from what I've gathered, you don't even want to be here. You wouldn't care."

"You're making an awful lot of assumptions about me, aren't you?" Mendel bitterly retorted.

"Well?" Nick asked skeptically. "Am I wrong?" After a few moments, he simply said, "I'll take your silence as a 'no.'"

The robotist crossed his arms in defeat. "I'm not going to cover for you if you get caught."

Shrugging, Nick dismissed the idle threat. "I wouldn't expect you to." Gripping the door handle of the door to Winter's office, the brunette paused. "If I were you, however," he began, "I would warn me if you hear anyone coming. If I do get caught, they'll know you knew about it. And that won't exactly do wonders for your reputation."

-----------

Midnight longed for the ability to stretch her legs for even a moment, as her current cramped position made the ventilation system feel like a down pillow. But too much time had passed, and she knew enough to not risk being caught just for the sake of relieving discomfort. The assassin had squeaked out of too many legitimate close calls to let herself be defeated by something as trivial as her own muscle pain.

She could hear voices speaking just outside the door. Both male. Midnight shifted positions so that she might hear better. The two men were conversing about something, and someone mentioned getting caught in the office. The ebony-haired woman frowned. She doubted Winter would be concerned about anyone finding him in his home away from home. Her mission file told her he logged an immense amount of time behind that mahogany desk.

That begged the obvious follow-up question: just who were those two men outside? Remembering a passing comment made by the CEO's secretary, the Frenchwoman surmised that the pair must be the guests that Winter planned to meet. She strained her sensitive hearing even more. Something sounded awfully familiar about those voices, but she couldn't quite place it. Her career in the Ring had taken her to dozens of countries and had her listening to thousands of conversations. She may have heard those two during a previous stakeout in New York, however long ago that may have been.

Heavy footsteps could be heard, despite their being muffled by the thick wooden door. Then a creak echoed through the room as the footsteps grew lighter, but moved closer. Whoever this was obviously did not want anyone to know they were there.

More footsteps, spaced regularly enough for Midnight to confidently say they came from one person. The pacing then stopped, only to be replaced by the sounds of drawers opening and the shuffling of papers.

The assassin barely allowed herself to breathe now, taking extra measures to make sure absolutely nothing would betray her presence. She may have been here on a lethal mission, but she did not want to have to eliminate her target's guests as well. If Fate looked kindly upon both of them, he would leave before Winter returned to find him perusing through what were most likely confidential files.

-----------

Not sure as to why he was being so quiet, as only Mendel remained nearby, Nick nonetheless discretely made his way into Winter's office to begin his search. He wasn't exactly sure of what he was looking for, but his gut told him he'd know when he found it.

Stepping into the center of the room, Nick put aside his personal opinion of its occupant for a moment and admired the décor. Winter may be insane, but the biologist had to admit, he had taste. Seemingly expensive taste too – the value of the furniture alone could run into the upper tens of thousands of dollars.

Remembrance of his time constraints, however, cut his analysis of his enemy's furniture fashion sense short. Lila was only getting coffee; she could be back any minute. Whatever he had to do, he had to do it quick.

Moving swiftly to the most likely habitat of incriminating evidence – the desk – Nick gave the surface a quick once over, moving papers around haphazardly. Finding nothing that would support any sort of case against Winter in the eyes of Hicks and other M-Force officials, Nick frustratingly tossed them aside and moved behind the desk, roughly pulling open drawers and sifting through the contents.

Financial projections, strategic analysis…no, nothing interesting there. Stuffing the file back into place, Nick shut that desk drawer and opened the next one. He found employee satisfaction surveys and press releases. Basically more papers and folders of little interest to him.

Knowing he was running short on time, the thirty-four-year-old almost resigned himself to giving up, until a file with a red label caught his eye. Setting its companions back into the drawer, Nick stared at his discovery. "Project XLR-G19." The brunette frowned. What was that?

-----------

Mendel lounged back in his chair, asking himself over and over why he ever agreed to accompany Jonah on this damn trip. Idly, he wondered if the whiz kid had been truthful when he asked him if he knew who the M-Force representatives would be. He most certainly would never have agreed to tag along had he known Nick would be coming.

But judging by Solstice's reception of the quartet, they didn't seem to be expecting Nick either. The man no doubt still held his former prejudices about the company, and probably made that clear in any interactions with its higher-ups.

A light rumble interrupted Mendel's musings. He tensed, entire body on alert to sense any possible disturbance in its environment.

That paid off with the sensing of another rumble, stronger this time. Everything in the small room, from the tables to the lamps, shook slightly. The blonde frowned. It didn't feel like an earthquake, and it's not like they'd get any in New York anyways.

Before he could contemplate the mysterious disturbance any further, Lila's voice floated in from the hallway. Mendel threw a panicked glance at the office door as Lila and Winter entered the waiting room.

"Dr. Mendel Craven," Cameron Winter exclaimed. "We meet again. I must say it is an honor for an expert of your caliber to pay my little company a visit."

Mendel smiled weakly. "It was nothing."

The platinum blonde executive frowned before addressing his secretary. "I thought you said Nickels was with him."

Lila frowned as well and opened her mouth to speak. Mouth moving faster than his mind, Mendel cut her forever unspoken sentence off. "He had to go the bathroom!"

Raising an eyebrow, Winter only looked at Mendel skeptically. "Really?"

"Really," Mendel replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"Well then," the CEO began, obviously not satisfied with Mendel's excuse, "I guess I'll just get things ready in my office…"

"No!" the blond cried, mouth once again proving too quickly for his mind to catch up.

Winter fixed him with a cold stare, as Mendel's behavior only confirmed his initial suspicions. "Just what is going on?" he asked sternly.

Mendel's eyes trailed to the door. 'I don't know why in God's name I decided to cover for you, Nick, but you better think of someway to get us both out of here.'

-----------

Two ears perked at the sound of a low rumble in the distance. Waiting for a moment, Nick tensed once he both heard and felt a follow up vibration. He moved towards the window, echoes of restlessness and apprehension in the streets getting louder the closer he got. The sound of recognizable voices outside the door, however, almost made Nick drop the unopened folder he held in his hands and zapped his attention away from the would-be earthquakes. Tucking the Project XLR-G19 folder into one of his coat's large pockets, and pausing to be thankful Lila hadn't had the graciousness to take their coats once they came in, Nick did his best to calm down. Unfortunately, all the thoughts running through his mind were along the lines of "Ohhhh shit."

Taking deep breaths, the biologist called upon his previous experience in harnessing his body's supply of adrenaline to escape from tight spots. He had done it before. He could do it again. All he had to do was…was…

Hide. He had to hide.

Hide for how long? He couldn't stay in here forever.

Well he could try. In any case, it was better than any other option he had at the moment, which included either strolling out of the office to greet an enraged Winter, or jumping out the window.

Finally gaining some direction in his escape plan, Nick carefully scanned the office for a nook or cranny big enough to conceal a 6'1" frame. Under the desk? Winter would find him in a second. Behind a plant? No protection at all. Under a sofa? Possible, but also easy to uncover. Behind a bookcase? No, no room.

Until one particular bookcase caught his eye.

It wasn't tall by any means, but the strange shape seemed to create a sort of open space behind it. Moving quickly, Nick pushed it aside, eyes glued to the door as he tried to be as quiet as possible. Unfortunately, a new, stronger rumble threw him off balance and sent him crashing into his newly created hiding space. But judging by the soft object that cushioned his fall, he was not the only thing to try and utilize such a spot.

Jerking away in shock, Nick attempted to see in the relative darkness caused by the room's present lack of artificial lighting. Whatever it was moved further back against the wall, prompting the brunette to try and feel it out. It seemed to be a person. His hand traveled up a bit. Not just a person, but most definitely a woman.

Said woman did not appreciate his non-malicious curiosity, and a high-heeled black boot swiftly caught him in the jaw, spraying him back onto the floor. Before he could even get up, he felt himself pinned to the ground, the frosted blade of a knife pressed against his neck.

The clear and present danger, however, was not what currently monopolized Nick's attention. That honor went to brown eyes, dark hair, and a face that for so long had only been a memory, yet was still instantly familiar.

Blue eyes searched brown ones for signs of recognition that he knew she could easily repress. Both remained speechless, unwilling to be the first to break the tense silence that settled over them. Finally taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to speak just as she eased the knife off his neck, clearly nervous about what he might say.

Her fears, however, proved unfounded, as a giant scaled appendage came crashing through the window, ripping reinforced concrete apart like tissue paper and knocking the pair through a now shattered drywall barrier.

---End Chapter Two---

Gah. It is nearly five in the morning. I stayed up all night to get this done. Well I hope you guys like it. I won't be able to update for a while, seeing as I will not have access to a computer from the 27th-30th. There is obviously more action to come, and I promise everyone's favorite lizard will get eventually get more screen time. :o)

Also, I was wondering about what you guys think of the chapter lengths. Shorter, longer, whatever?