Comments and Reviewer Notes: Thanks so much to dolphinology, US Ranger, and tlg for reviewing chapter two. I really appreciate your taking the time to do so. I am especially honored that tlg considered this one of the best fics they've read, and that dolphinology saw fit to place me on his or her favorite authors list. That means a lot guys!

FFN is being annoying so the formatting is a little different this time around. Also, this chapter will hopefully be one of the last heavy on exposition and set-up, allowing the plot to really start moving forward soon.

When Even Hindsight is Clouded

Chapter Three: Two Roards Diverged in a Yellow Wood

-Pacific Ocean-

The blue-green calmness of the ocean waves did little to betray the complex and tangled net of both life and death contained within. In the span of a mere moment, a life below ended, began, or took an irreversible turn. Predator caught prey, mother gave birth to child, counterparts met as mates. The gentle, repetitive motion of waves gently washing over each other concealed every bit, lending the horizon an unmatched aura of equal serenity and mystery.

Elsie almost wished the rest of the world had a similar calming albeit deceptive covering. Amid the chaos that the past several years of her life had been, she was thankful she could still find something that didn't tug at the jaded cynic that had come to envelope more and more of her persona.

"Looking at the waves, dear?"

Wincing slightly at the endearment, Elsie turned to face Worthington. Dark suit slightly wrinkled, he leaned back in a posh, roomy seat, clearly relaxed yet still maintaining an air of sophistication. Wire-frame spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose as his gaze traveled over words printed in the morning edition of The Times. Without waiting for Elsie's reply, he continued to speak. "Being able to enjoy lovely sights such as those could certainly be called an advantage of traveling in a low-flying private jet."

The paleontologist only smiled politely in response before going back to staring out the window of the small aircraft.

"Not fond of conversation, hm?" Worthington joked.

"It depends on who the conversation would be with," came the curt reply.

Phillip laughed lightly before lapsing into a moment of thoughtful silence. "You know, despite my being rather persistent in soliciting your assistance, this was still your choice, and it will remain so." He gazed at her, expression serious. "You can back out at any time."

Elsie sighed. "I said I'd do it, so I will. You don't need to worry about me abandoning ship in the middle of the investigation."

"Very well then," the older gentlemen conceded. "If perhaps then, you might be able to shed some light on the hostility?"

Green eyes blinked in surprise. Beneath the ever-eloquent covering, Worthington's request was uncharacteristically blunt. Elsie had expected him to perhaps hint at her rudeness rather than bring it up as a conversation starter. Turning her gaze from the window once more, the redhead's expression was apologetic. "I'm sorry. I really don't mean to be so rude." It was only a bit of a stretch, as Elsie never held much fondness for the pampered rich. "It's just that I've been having second thoughts about this since the moment I stepped on your chopper."

Worthington nodded. "Perfectly understandable. It has been a while since you're embarked on this sort of mission. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that you've retained your unmatched skill in sorting out the often strange behavior of our oversized friends."

Slightly annoyed, Elsie attempted to clarify her reservations. "It's not that I don't think I can do the job."

Phillip looked genuinely confused, though Elsie suspected it was an act. "Then what's the problem?"

Biting her lip, the forty-two year old considered her options. She knew this man for all of five hours. An honest answer to his question would require divulging personal information she'd rather keep private. Not to mention it would require more backstory than the ride to Costa Rica would allow.

So she could always lie. Ease her way around the question by saying she'd had a bad week, or that she was frustrated about being taken away from her work in the middle of a major find. But the old man seemed more perceptive than one might initially give him credit for. He'd see through her story, and judging by his tenacity, wouldn't let up until he got some semblance of the truth.

Well fine then. She could at least grant him part of the story, leaving out the bits that she still hadn't quite figured out herself. "I've worked very hard to re-establish myself in the field of paleontology," she began. "My work with HEAT was no more than a diversion from what I really should have been doing."

"A diversion that lasted two years," Phillip noted.

"Exactly." Elsie fidgeted slightly. "With my work gaining more and more recognition among the scientific community, the last thing I need is to open the door to another two years of chasing giant man-eating chickens."

Phillip's brow furrowed. "I don't recall any-"

"There weren't any," the quick-witted woman quickly corrected, eyes rolling. "But that doesn't mean we never fought anything just as ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not, they obviously posed enough of a threat to warrant your attention." Worthington swirled his glass of wine around a bit. "I wouldn't be so quick to discount your previous line of work."

Elsie fell silent for a moment, once again thinking carefully as to how to frame her answer. "I'm not discounting the work, per se. Just the means through which it was accomplished."

"You think HEAT was useless?" Phillip asked, skepticism hidden. "I suppose you'd say the M-Force is doing a better job?"

"No, and no," Elsie replied, frustration making its way into her voice as she felt cornered. "HEAT did a better job than the M-Force ever could."

"Then why the reluctance to go back?" the boardroom veteran asked, curious.

A slim finger absently twirled a strand of bright red hair as Elsie wondered if there was any accurate way of answering that question. She finally settled on an honest, if ambiguous, response. "It's complicated."

"Life is complicated my dear," Worthington brushed her off. "Doesn't mean we should hide under our beds, hoping it doesn't find us."

Didn't make much sense, but Elsie understood what he was getting at. "I'm not hiding…none of us are hiding," she said, referencing the other four members of the former mutant-hunting team. "Sometimes things just don't work out like everyone wants them to. Things started going downhill, and Nick ultimately chose to disband the team. It wasn't an easy decision, but in retrospect it was the best one. We've all moved on." Or at least she assumed they had. The behavioral expert didn't know much about what her former teammates were up to.

"Even hindsight can be clouded," Worthington sighed. "What looks best in retrospect isn't necessarily the best path one's life could have taken. Imagine how different everything would be could we go back and change just one cataclysmic choice…" the old man trailed off, the look on his face prompting the younger woman to wonder if he was still talking about her former team. She didn't get a chance to ask, however, as he quite literally shook himself out of it. "In any case, if I recall correctly, you left HEAT before Dr. Tatopoulos officially disbanded the team."

"I didn't leave," Elsie defended herself. "I just took a sabbatical, of sorts. A former, very respected colleague had asked for my opinion on some of his research. Invited me to come along to a symposium where he'd be presenting it…then a dig to see what else we could find…" the redhead trailed off, memories at once fond and painful bubbling up to the surface. "Before I even realized how much time had gone by, I got the call that I wouldn't need to return to New York."

Brown eyes regarded her carefully. "This mystery paleontologist you speak of wouldn't be Dr. Alexander Hall, would it?"

Elsie stiffened at the mention of her ex-husband. "Who it was doesn't matter."

Correctly gauging her reaction as confirmation of his suspicions, Worthington pressed on. "Putting that in perspective, do you still the choices made were for the best?"

The sharp-tongued woman immediately erected a solid wall of defense around herself, refusing to let her mind wander down that route. Reflecting on her failed marriage to Lex was painful enough on its own. She didn't need to add to it the "what if's?" from if she had turned down his offer and stayed with HEAT. So instead of acknowledging his rather personal inquiry, she turned the interrogation around on him. "How do you know so much about this?"

"I must confess that statement about leaving HEAT to work with Dr. Hall was merely a guess on my part," Phillip admitted. "But I kept tabs on the going-on's of the world's premier mutant control team. Not surprising, considering my corporation's crown jewel as far as subsidiaries go."

"You expected us to have to come clean up one of your messes?" Elsie inquired dryly.

"Not consciously, no," Worthington assured her. "But perhaps, subconsciously, I knew things would eventually go astray." He paused, mulling over something. "Or perhaps the presence of what was practically your sixth member intrigued me. With the chaos spreading around the world due to the exploding mutant population, I don't think I'm alone in wishing one was on our side," he finished wistfully.

Elsie was quiet, the expression on her face unreadable. "I don't think all mutants are inherently evil, or that it would be impossible to find one willing to co-exist peacefully with humans," she finally spoke up, before pausing again. "But even so, Godzilla was a special case. One that I don't think we'll see replicated anytime soon."

Phillip nodded, not eager to push the issue any farther. Instead, he checked his watch and glanced outside the window. "I've certainly enjoyed this very enlightening conversation, Dr. Chapman," he began, "but I'm afraid we'll have to pick it up some other time." He gestured to the sandy shores and small huts visible outside. "The Rice Coast beckons."

-Costa Rica-

The midday rush combined with the especially sunny weather left the outdoor café in a whirl of chaos, successfully masked for the benefit of its patrons. A tall, Latino waiter jogged by the bar, whisking away a tray topped with drinks in the blink of an eye before scanning the packed patio for its recipient. Finding her, he slowed down his strides into an eased stroll before leaning down and presenting the tray. "Your pina colada, Senora."

"Thanks," Candace said, gratefully accepting the fruit drink from the courteous server. The blonde sipped a bit through her straw, eyes closing in pure bliss. She had only been to Costa Rica once before, but her most vivid memory by far was the quality of the tropical drinks. No matter how they may try, bartenders back in the states simply couldn't match the island mixers. Blue eyes fluttered open as she returned to reality, then narrowed. "Randy, stop harassing that poor lizard."

"I'm not harassing it," her husband defended himself. "We're just playing. Right little guy?" The small salamander in question only cocked its head, eyeing the stick in Randy's hand with great suspicion.

Candy regarded the recently fired software engineer skeptically. "Doesn't look like he's having fun."

Tearing off a piece of his sandwich, Randy tossed a bit down to the salamander's feet. "A peace offering," he explained to the animal. "How's that for ya?"

Sniffing the food, the black-spotted orange lizard turned up its nose before scurrying away into the nearby brush. Randy turned back to his lunch-mate. "Guess he's watching his carbs or something."

"Or he could just be fed up with you," Candace replied before taking another sip of her heavenly mixed drink. "You want one of these?"

"Naw, but a margarita would be nice," Randy suggested hopefully.

The blonde shook her head firmly. "No alcohol." She sent a cryptic smile his way. "You're enough of a handful when you're sober."

Sticking out his lower lip, Randy feigned hurt. "Can you blame me? We've been sitting here for almost an hour."

Sighing, Candy turned in her chair for the fiftieth time to survey the new patrons entering the café's vicinity. Finding no one she recognized, she turned back to Randy. "We'll wait just a little bit longer."

"Yeah, I'm sure Moneybags has a good reason." He finished off the last of his sandwich. "Think if we get the table cleared now, he'll treat us to lunch?"

"No more food," his wife replied, expression playful. "Getting fired doesn't give you an excuse to go chubby on me."

Randy shrugged. "Then I won't ask, but if he offers…well I'm not making any promises." He pushed crumbs around his plate with a toothpick. "Just who is this guy again?"

"Philip Worthington," Candace answered, tracing the outline of her glass with a straw. "CEO of Worthington Enterprises, and a major sponsor of the 'habitat.'"

The twenty-eight year old raised an eyebrow. "The one where our favorite mutants go to recover, or the one that shall not be named?"

"Well, technically both." Candy rested her chin in her left hand. "But it was his idea to come up with a more public institution that works with mutants in Roswell, to combat some rumors swirling around the base." The blonde shrugged. "Even if Uncle Sam did implement Worthington's suggestions on self-serving terms, I can't say I'm unhappy with the way things turned out. The reserve is the perfect place for smaller, benign mutants to recover from illness or injury while at the same time providing the public with an opportunity to learn that not all of these new steps in the evolutionary chain are bloodthirsty monsters."

"Try telling that to the people here," Randy muttered, noticing that mention of mutants had turned some heads in their direction. "I think we should steer the conversation in somewhere else. The whole mutant thing seems to be a touchy subject."

"Understandably," Candy replied, lowering her voice so as to not be heard. "But we can't tiptoe around the subject forever. That's why we're here."

"No, that's why you're here," the former hacker corrected. "I'm just tagging along because apparently I could use the vacation."

The older woman gave him a small smile. "I didn't hear you complaining." In fact, Randy hadn't even complained that much about losing his job in the first place, confirming Candy's suspicions that deep down, he was relieved to be out of there.

"It'll be a pretty boring vacation if I have to spend it by myself," Randy mused before looking at Candy. "How long do you think your 'business' here will take?"

She shrugged. "Worthington didn't say." Regarding her husband carefully, she attempted to gauge his true feelings about accompanying her on such a trip. She knew of a way to make his time in Costa Rica more exciting, but the scientist wasn't quite sure he'd be open to the idea. Taking a deep breath, she took the plunge anyway. "You know, Worthington was especially familiar with HEAT."

Randy stiffened. "So?"

"So," Candy continued, "he probably wouldn't be against the idea of you helping out. You do have more experience in the field than I do."

"Yeah, but you're an actual biologist," Randy pointed out. "I'm just a computer geek."

"A computer geek who spent two years chasing mutants around the world," the blonde smiled. "One who would have spent more years doing exactly that had he had the chance."

A bitter smile crossed the dredlocked man's face. "I had the chance. I just didn't take it."

Candy poked at her salad uncomfortably. "I'm sure Nick would've let you join him whenever you wanted."

"Nick would've," Randy conceded. "I just don't think the M-Force or the government would." He chuckled dryly. "Hacking under the supervision of someone who's willing to resort to extreme and possibly illegal measures himself is one thing. Doing it under the nose of Uncle Sam is another."

Even giving him that point, Candy still believed Randy could've maneuvered himself into mutant-chasing in a way similar to what Nick had done. In any case, she couldn't say she was sorry that he didn't. True, the M-Force made the occasional visit to Area 51, but she knew pursuing their initial long-distance relationship, as well as Randy's agreement to relocate to New Mexico, would have been much more difficult to accomplish were Randy globetrotting with his former boss. But thinking along those lines made her feel guilty, since it almost seemed like she was putting her own happiness above Randy's.

"Hey," the computer expert interjected softly, recognizing the slightly pained look on his wife's face. "You're not doing that whole guilt-trip thing about snatching me away from the mutant biz, are you?"

"No," Candace replied sheepishly, though she knew he'd see through her.

Confirming Candy's hunch, Randy rolled his eyes. "We've been through this before. I'd rather be stuck in a dead-end, boring as hell corporate rat race with you than going on mutant-filled adventures without ya."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Well now you may have both."

One dark hand scratched the back of the younger man's head awkwardly. "We'll see how well your rich friend here takes the idea."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Candace assured him before raising an eyebrow. A dark, obviously expensive designer suit had caught her eye. "Speak of the devil…"

Randy turned to squint at the unspecified location that currently held Candy's interest. "What? Where?"

"He's coming this way," the blonde explained, before pausing, both eyebrows arching in surprise. "Is that?"

"Dr. Kirk!" A cheerful voice boomed, cutting the unfinished statement off. "What a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise, Phillip." Candy glanced uneasily at her husband, who wore an expression of shock on his face. "It seems we both took the initiative to bring a friend," she mused dryly.

"That we did," the older gentlemen replied, surprised, yet clearly happy. "Dr. Chapman, don't you think it's a wonderful coincidence that-"

"Is this some kind of joke?" Phillip's companion sharply interrupted, causing Randy to wince. Someone sure wasn't happy to see him.

"No, no," Candy answered for Worthington, attempted to defuse what had already become an awkward, tense situation. "I brought Randy along without asking if it was alright."

The mentioned tag-a-long gave his former colleague a short wave. "Hola, chica. How's it going?"

"Just peachy." Elsie replied caustically. She was being unreasonably hard on Randy, but with every passing second this damn trip reminded her more and more of a life she had spent the last six years trying to forget. If Fate existed, it sure was having a hearty laugh at her expense.

"Ok then," Randy shrugged before glancing at Candace and then Phillip. "You know, maybe me tagging along isn't such a good idea."

"Nonsense," Worthington assured him. "I think you'd be an invaluable asset to our little team here." He smiled broadly at his new companions. "Despite the gravity of our goal here, I don't think it'd be a crime for us to enjoy ourselves a bit too. Think of this as an adventure."

'Right,' the youngest one thought weakly, noticing the expression on the redhead's face akin to undergoing root canal. 'Bet this little jungle-trip to hell will be fun for everyone.'

-New York, New York-

People shouting. Screaming. Panic.

Something's not right.

Head hurts. Chest hurts. Everything hurts.

Legs ok?

No, but they'll work.

What happened?

Rumbles..crash…fall.

Fall to where?

Into a wall.

What wall?

Doesn't matter. Someone else here.

Who?

Light…soft…curves…

Audrey...?

-

Panicked cries echoed through the shaky walls of Solstice headquarters as employees raced towards the stairwells for fear that the top half of the building might be sliced off. The platinum blond CEO shouted at security through a cell phone, struggling against bodyguards that were muscling him towards an exit.

"What's going on?" Lila screamed, coughing as dust and debris leaked through the cracks in Winter's office door.

"We need to clear the building," a security guard barked, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

Mendel attempted to take advantage of the temporary distraction to push through the crowd and towards Winter's office. If Nick had any sense, he'd be out of there by now. Unless something was keeping him locked inside. Shaking his head, the robotist cleared the more morbid, pessimistic thoughts from his head. Nick was probably just hurt, and would need some help getting out. He had no reason to expect the need for a body bag.

Well not much of a reason.

"Excuse me sir," a voice firmly stated as one hand grabbed the blond's shoulder, "This entire floor has to be evacuated."

Hedging his bets, Mendel tried to talk his way out of being personally escorted down the stairs. "I have a colleague who's still up here. I just need to find him." He wiggled out of the guard's grasp. "Don't worry, I'll be out of here as soon as possible. I'm not suicidal."

"Staying here might be," the guard muttered before shaking his head. "I'm still going to need you to come with us. Someone will find your friend and bring him downstairs."

'No they wouldn't,' Mendel though, panicking. As far as anyone else knew, Winter's office was empty. No one would check to see if anyone was in there. Several minutes had passed since the attack with no sign of Nick. Mendel knew he'd want to keep his snooping undercover, but he also knew Nick wasn't stupid enough to stay in a collapsing top story. Something was wrong, and despite their less than amiable current relationship, Mendel certainly didn't want the biologist dead.

"Carter!" a scratchy voice traveled through the guard's walkie-talkie. "We've got an injury here. Suite 3012. Get over here now!"

The security guard sighed, temporarily admitting defeat. "I have to go, but I'm trusting you to get down those stairs right now. Am I clear?"

"Sure," Mendel replied weakly, hoping the other man wouldn't notice his eyes dart back towards Winter's office doors.

-

Cerulean eyes clouded with pain and disorientation opened to survey their surroundings. The first thing they registered was the gaping hole in the wall in front of them. A more careful survey, however, revealed that they were actually in the wall. Gray, dusty chunks of drywall covered two almost unmoving figures, as if to reinforce the point of their current predicament.

Groaning, Nick attempted to force himself into an upright sitting position, but found himself unable to do so thanks to the weight lying unceremoniously on top of him. He blinked, mind once again flashing back to memories of who that would once be, but the new focused image in front of him dissolved any illusions of a blonde siren. For one thing, the woman draped across his chest, while beautiful enough to lure an unsuspecting sailor into a watery prison, had dark hair that fell out of its formerly tight-knit bun. She was also a bit paler than the woman of his lucid dreams, not to mention taller. And her face…her face was all too familiar.

Swallowing, the brunette tried to clear the chaos inside his mind, fueled by questions that he had a feeling would remain unanswered. Why was she here? Why did he ever have to see her again in the first place? First Mendel, now this second specter from the ruins of a sunken dream. But this one had slipped away as discretely as she'd slid into that reverie. He never thought he'd hear of her, let alone come face to face with her again. How exactly had Fate managed to twist their paths into enough of a gnarled mess to make them cross again? He glanced down. Unless she knew something about it…

She's not moving.

Nick shifted slightly, easing the still figure onto the floor, yet allowing it to continue to rest against him. Sliding one arm around her body to support her back, he used the other to lightly shake her shoulder. Actions earning him no response, he bit his lip before trying again. "Monique?"

Nothing.

He brushed errant strands of hair out of her face, freezing when a familiar, sticky-wet sensation coated his fingers. Crimson stained both his hands and her hair, turning raven locks into a damp mass that stuck to the side of her head. Gingerly moving her hair out of the way, Nick finally managed a thorough view of the injury. "Shit…"

A hefty piece of drywall or concrete must have hit her during their trip into the inner workings of the skyscraper. She probably had a concussion, if she was lucky. Cynical it may be, Nick had had more than his fair share of exposure to gruesome field injuries at the hand of even docile mutations to come to that conclusion.

So what now?

Try to help of course. True, her sudden presence in a New York office building at the exact same time as him was pretty incomprehensible, but who was he to claim to understand how the French secret service worked? Winter was probably involved in some less-than-ethical hijinks that crossed the Atlantic. Wouldn't surprise him.

In any case, he could play detective later, if he so pleased. Monique was an old friend, albeit one that he hadn't seen in six years, and she was seriously injured. He needed to find a bandage of sorts to stop the bleeding. Fingering the fabric of his shirt, he decided against going that route. Besides being one of the nicer elements of his wardrobe, the relatively thin fabric would not do much to mitigate the bleeding.

The ground shook again as more screams filtered through the crevice in the side of the building. Nick temporarily left his fallen former comrade's side to glance outside, only catching the tip of a large, scaled tail. Whatever was going on, he didn't have much time to waste. Rich was probably cursing at the silence he undoubtedly received while trying to dial Nick's crushed cell, bits and pieces of which dropped ungracefully from his coat pocket. Taking a deep breath, the brunette murmured an apology to the unconscious woman before lifting off her cotton shirt. Turning his head, he ripped off a few streaks of cloth that he promptly wrapped around her forehead. A rapidly shedded overcoat added the final touch as Nick pulled it tight around her shallowly breathing form. Picking her up and rising to his feet, he grit his teeth as his body howled at him in protest. He may not have blood dripping from his crown, but the strong ache that coursed through him argued against him escaping unscathed.

A primal, animalistic screech reverberated through the air, prompting Nick to almost drop Monique for want of covering his ears with his hands. Shaking his head to clear the ringing in his ears, the biologist ignored the now dulled pain in his legs as he shakily pressed forward, regaining more of his balance with every step. Whether he himself needed medical attention was inconsequential. It was time to go to work.

-

"Nick? Nick!"

No response.

Mendel ran one hand over the other in nervousness. Maybe he couldn't hear him. The mahogany doors that formed the portal to Winter's office were very thick, or at least they seemed to be. He raised a fist and knocked soundly on the door. "Are you in there?"

Still nothing.

'Great,' the robotist thought, eyes glancing back to where security would no doubt appear in a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds. If he was going to get Nick out of there, without either of them getting caught, he'd have to act immediately. A chubby hand grasped the door handle and turned.

Unfortunately, on the other side, a foot decided to kick down the door at the exact same moment.

Retreating from both shock and physical force, Mendel shook his head to get his bearings back. "What the hell did you do that for? I was trying to come help you!"

Nick blinked. "I didn't know you were still here."

"Why wouldn't I be?" the blond asked, stepping back even more once he noticed the dusty, drywall covering on his former colleague. Great, just great. The city's being attacked by a giant, screeching mutant, and on top of that, he's about to suffer an asthma attack. At least he had the good sense to bring a warm coat so he wouldn't catch cold on top of that. Speaking of coats…"Hey what happened to your…" Mendel trailed off, eyes finally coming to rest on the bundled up form in Nick's dark overcoat. "What the-"

"I wasn't the only one trying out my espionage skills in Winter's office," the biologist explained dryly, eyes darting down to the face that rested against his chest. Mendel probably couldn't see. Shifting the figure in his arms, Nick continued. "Though I don't think my skills in the clandestine come anywhere close to her's."

Brown eyes widened in shock. "That's, that's-"

"I know," Nick replied. "And before you ask, no, I don't know why she's here or what she was doing hiding behind a bookshelf."

"How'd you find her?" the professor asked, curiosity temporarily overcoming his surprise.

A dry laugh. "Great minds think alike." Leaving the cryptic reply at that, Nick started to jog towards the stairs, jerking his head in a motion for Mendel to follow. "She's hurt – a head injury. We need to get her to a hospital."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine," the brunette answered dismissively. "A little sore, but believe me, I've had worse." Taking the stairs two at a time, he had to pause to regain his balance. Carrying Monique had thrown off his center of gravity, and he hadn't given himself the time to relocate it. Nick turned his head slightly to look at Mendel. "Do you have a cell phone on you?"

"Yeah," the huffing and puffing man replied. "Why?"

"Do you know Rich's number?" Nick asked, increasing his pace down the stairs. Thirty-five flights was no cakewalk, even going down instead of up.

"No," wheezed Mendel. "And before you ask, I don't know Jonah's either."

Saying nothing in response, the M-Force collaborator simply turned on his heels and barged through the door to the thirtieth level.

"Um, where are we going?" the blond asked in confusion as he followed the brunette's fast-paced footsteps.

Nick nodded towards the elevator coming into view. "You feeling lucky, or, at the very least, not cursed?"

Mendel froze, deadpan. "You can't be serious."

"Unfortunately, I am," Nick replied, finally reaching the lift and punching the down button with his left elbow.

"The elevators aren't safe!"

"And the stairs are too slow," the younger man explained. "If this building is in danger of collapsing, I think it'd do it by the time we reached the bottom. Besides," he observed, watching Mendel carefully. "It looks like you could use a break."

Opting to simply give his former boss a dirty look, Mendel said nothing in reply.

"Do you mind holding her?" Nick asked, bringing Monique back to the center of attention as he adjusted her position in his arms. "All this running must've diverted blood flow from my arms or something, because they're starting to hurt."

Sighing in resignation, the robotist awkwardly accepted the transfer of the unconscious Frenchwoman. "Where are you taking her?"

Nick shrugged. "I'm not taking her anywhere. In case you didn't notice, we've got another unexpected visitor."

"So you're just going to drop her off on a street corner?" Mendel indignantly inquired. Sure he and Monique had never been more than just colleagues, but he wouldn't leave her out to dry. And if he recalled correctly from HEAT's swan song months, Nick was closer to Monique than he was. Maybe he should be thankful it wasn't him that apparently had his head bashed through a wall.

A deep, gravelly voice cut through his thoughts. "I'm not abandoning her," the biologist clarified. "But I can't see to her safety personally once I have to start dealing with whatever crisis is currently going on." He leaned against the elevator wall, eyes fixed on the bundle wrapped in his coat. "Rich or Solstice security has probably already called in the authorities. We can give Monique to someone there."

Mendel looked uneasy. "Think that might interfere with, well, her 'work?'"

"Tough," came the response as Nick scoffed. "I just dug her out of a hole in the wall. If she's so concerned about the sanctity of whatever mission she's on here, then when she wakes up, she should ask me to put her back in it." He about-faced at the stunned look Mendel gave him. "I'm just kidding…"

"Right," he agreed warily, still eyeing Nick strangely.

The brunette rolled his eyes. "You can't honestly believe I would stick an injured woman back into a crushed wall just because she complained about me rescuing her."

Shrugging, the robotist only said, "You've changed."

A look of indignation spreading across his features, Nick immediately became defensive. "Well so have you!"

"How?" Mendel asked, quirking his head in curiosity.

The biologist bit his lip. "I don't know," he mumbled. "But you have. Everyone changes. It's inevitable."

"Sure," the blond shrugged. "But some people change for the better."

Not willing to let the weighty implication slide, Nick glared at his former colleague. "Where do you get off telling me I've-"

"I don't think I said anything about you," Mendel evenly replied, remaining steadfast in his response. "Just that some people don't adjust as well to the curveballs life throws them than others."

"Just like some people are the ones throwing those jagged curveballs at their friends, right?" came the icy reply.

"Yeah," Mendel said quietly. "I guess so."

Sighing, Nick turned to the side, not willing to let an argument over long-dug graves cloud his focus. Something was attacking the city. Something big, scaly, and loud. Hopefully Rich had had the sense to alert the military by this time. As far as he knew, there were no M-Force agents stationed nearby, so the armed forces would be the next best thing.

The elevator's light ding alerted the pair to the fact that they were now on the ground floor. Metal doors slide apart to reveal chaos on. Surprisingly, Winter was still around, being manhandled by security guards as he refused to leave. Nick raised an eyebrow. There was obviously something important hidden away here so that Winter would want to return to the top story of a wrecked skyscraper.

He didn't, however, have time to ponder over his suspicions any longer. Rich came running up to him, eyes wide and clearly flustered. "Where have you been?"

"Stuck on the top floor," Nick replied, brushing past him and jogging outside to survey the situation. A few crushed cars, imprints in the street, and gashes in the sides of buildings, but luckily, there didn't appear to be any casualties. Or at least there weren't any yet. Nick's time in the Force had taught him the hard way that time was of the essence in responding to new mutant threats. "Have you contacted the military yet? Or Hicks?"

"Both," Rich answered, shouting to be heard over the almost deafening din. "The Air Force is on the way." The agent glanced back to the unexpected guest tech expert that had accompanied them. And then stared more intently at what said expert carried in his arms. "Who's the girl?"

An uncertain look crossed Mendel's face, as he looked to Nick for guidance on how to best handle that question.

"She's someone who needs to get to a hospital," the M-Force collaborator answered for his former friend, not willing to waste too much time on the situation with Monique. He'd make sure she'd get much needed treatment, and then she'd slip back out of his life once again. As would Mendel. But that would come later. Right now, he needed to track down their new arrival. Nick frowned. Just where did he go? It certainly couldn't be that easy for an oversized mutant to hide in a city, even one like New York.

"What's her name?" Rich was apparently still hung up on the unconscious woman.

"Doesn't matter," Nick answered tightly, not wanting an angered secret agent on his tail for blowing her probable cover. "Just send her over to some paramedics and have them keep an eye on her after she gets up. Don't worry about her after that. She can take care of herself." He paused for a moment, remembering his conversation with Mendel in the elevator. "And I don't say that because I'm cold-hearted or anything like that. She wouldn't want someone fussing over her, much less some Americans she doesn't even know."

The M-force agent regarded his informal superior curiously. "I take it you know her?"

"You could say that," Nick muttered, the mirroring of his response to his recent words regarding Mendel not lost on him. He gestured towards a nearby paramedic, who had recently arrived on the scene after word of a mutant attack. "Can you see to it that my friend over there gets taken care of?" he asked, pointing towards Monique.

The paramedic hesitated. "The guy or the girl?"

"Seeing as the girl's unconscious I would think her needs would be a bit more pressing," Nick retorted, not able to bit off the snarky answer. "If the man needs medical attention, by all means give it to him, but I think he's fine."

"Dr. Tatopoulos!" a voice called urgently. Nick turned around to see a uniformed, middle-aged man pacing towards him. "Colonel Jeb Stuart, Air Force."

"Afternoon Colonel," the brunette nodded curtly. "Your boys caught sight of our new friend yet?"

"As a matter of fact they have," Stuart replied, gesturing for Nick to follow. "It's heading towards Greenwich village. We need to get a move on ASAP. I'd rather not have angry store owners or University staff bitching about property damage courtesy of yet another mutant."

Nick couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The colonel was apparently someone he could sympathize with. "You got a way of getting us over there quickly?"

"Right here," the officer responded, nodding towards an armored helicopter. "You got any of your people you want tagging along?"

The biologist nodded before calling over Rich. Once the fellow agent had boarded the copter, the colonel shut the door and signaled the pilot to speed towards the heart of the hurricane that had erupted in the middle of Manhattan.

-

"This is the temporary sick ward we've set up," Bryan, the paramedic, explained to Mendel as they eased Monique onto a sturdy cot. The marked off area was relatively sparsely populated for now, as most seemed to have escaped the initial mutant aggression without serious injury. "Do you know what happened to her?"

The blond shook his head. "No, but Nick mentioned something about being thrown into a wall."

"Well that'd do it," Bryan remarked wryly, looking over Monique's battered form. "Did he accompany her on this trip into the wall?"

"Don't know," Mendel replied, shrugging. "But he was covered in drywall dust, so he probably did."

"He need to be checked out?" the Asian man asked as he gingerly unwrapped Monique's t-shirt bandage in order to get a better look at the injury.

"He looked fine to me," Mendel began, "but I wouldn't be surprised if that were for show." The robotist shrugged. "That's his choice though. If he thinks playing M-Force soldier is more important than his own health, then that's not our problem."

"Fair enough," Bryan replied. He glanced towards the back of the tent. "I think I can take care of the lady here. In the far left there's a friend of your's, or so he claims to be." He looked at Mendel critically. "You are the blond Carnegie Mellon robotics professor, right? You match the description he gave and you were with Dr. Tatopoulos."

"Who…?" Mendel trailed off before he caught a glimpse of the spiry figure lying in the back. A sigh escaped his lips as he rose and trudged over towards the occupied cot. "Of course. Who else?"

"Who else indeed Dr. C," Jonah replied cheerfully. He gestured towards the splint on his leg. "Despite my rather high opinion of myself, it seems I don't hold up very well under the weight of a falling brick wall."

"Are you ok?" the older man asked, genuinely concerned. Sure Jonah was annoying but he didn't want him dead, or even close to it. A brick wall falling on one's leg sounded painful, to say the least.

Jonah waved off his concern. "I'll be fine." He patted his chest confidently, grinning from ear to ear despite the seriousness of the situation. "I'm not indestructible, but the man upstairs is going to have to try a lot harder to take me down for good."

"Nice to know your ego's intact," Mendel commented, smiling despite himself.

"Just like it's nice to know you're still not above taking the occasional shot at your buddy here." The tech expert shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable in the makeshift hospital bed. "So how were things going before El Nino stormed into town? Winter as big a son of a bitch as I hear he is?"

The blond shrugged. "Probably, but I can't say for sure. We never really talked to him."

Lying back, Jonah closed his eyes in an attempt to relax his rather tense body. "Ah. So you spend your time reminiscing about the good old days with Dr. T?" He opened one eye to smirk at his companion.

"You could say that," Mendel muttered, countenance immediately darkening.

Jonah sat up again to peer at his contemporary critically. "I take it things didn't go so well?"

"Well it wasn't the worst that could've happened," the professor admitted. "But it definitely wasn't the best way things could've gone either."

"I know the feeling," the younger man sympathized. "There some bad blood between you two?"

"I guess so," Mendel replied, regret clearly written across his face. "I don't think Nick ever forgave me for leaving."

That didn't make much sense, in Jonah's humble opinion. "Didn't others bail too?" he asked. "I know Dr. Chapman did, and so did that, um, insurance lady?"

Mendel blinked. Insurance lady? His eyes traveled towards the fallen Frenchwoman now being treated by a pair of paramedics. Oh. Right. "Yeah the insurance lady left too," he slowly stated. "But Elsie never officially quit, even if she did spend all her time on digs with Lex." The underlying bitterness that crept into Mendel's voice as he spoke of the male paleontologist's name was not lost on Jonah, but he wisely decided against pursuing the matter.

The blond paused for a moment, clearly lost in some episode of the past before continuing to explain. "Even so, I was the first one to up and leave. I didn't really give him much notice, and once I did it the others weren't as wary of doing the exact same thing." Lowering his voice, Mendel tapped the reserves of his mind for his evolving opinion on the root of Nick's hostility. "I think Nick was just afraid his team was falling apart. That after working so hard to establish HEAT as the best response to any mutant threat, it was all going to hell."

"It was all going to hell just because you left?" Jonah asked skeptically. "Trust me, I hold the deepest respect for your abilities, expertise, and value in the field – otherwise, I never would've dragged you here. But I still find that hard to believe."

Shaking his head, the former member of HEAT attempted to clarify. "It wasn't just me." He paused again, thinking hard. "In fact, had I left a month or so earlier, I think don't think there'd be so many hard feelings." He once again grew quiet, drawing upon recollections that were painful for everyone involved. "But after Godzilla died, HEAT's usefulness was taken down a significant peg or two. Sure we knew how to innovatively and effectively respond to mutant threats, but without our biggest ally, we had to rely heavily on military support. That in and of itself was a huge blow to what Nick initially made HEAT out to be." A dry laugh caught in Mendel's throat. "Ironically enough, he doesn't seem to have a problem with it now."

"A product of circumstance I suppose," the tech expert interjected, half-defending Nick. "It doesn't look like he has any other options."

"He could have moved on," Mendel interrupted, firm in his opinion. "Everyone else has." The small, knowing smile that was now creeping up Jonah's face irritated the robotist. "What!"

The dark-haired man assumed an air of objective, professional disinterest. "You say you've moved on," he began, "but somehow, you've been thrown back into the mutant-filled loop, despite your best efforts to avoid it. Maybe Nick just realized this was his true calling before any of the rest of you did."

"I would hardly call this being thrown back into the loop," Mendel corrected. "I just happened to be at the site of a mutant attack, at the same time as Nick and another M-Force agent. Nothing too extraordinary there." He shrugged. "But you have a point. Maybe this is Nick's 'true calling,' I don't know. But it's definitely not mine."

Jonah smiled politely as he conceded. "Whatever you say." He didn't believe him, but he also wasn't willing to get into an argument in a cheap tent-turned treatment center. 'Somehow, though,' he thought, 'I get the feeling you'll be singing a different tune in a matter of weeks.'

-

"Do you know exactly where we're going?" Nick asked, squinting out the side of the helicopter.

"Following the path of destruction seems easy enough," Colonel Stuart replied wryly, eyes on the crushed roads below.

Well he had a point there. "Have you been contacted by Major Hicks? Is the Army sending anyone?" He knew it wouldn't be viewed by the military as 100 percent necessary, but some ground-based artillery might be useful.

"Hicks is caught up on other business," Rich answered, even though the question hadn't been directed at him. "We can ask for backup from the Army but they seem to think the Air Force has got this under control."

"That we do," Stuart confirmed, eyes glued to what he could see out the window. Rising, he made his way into the cockpit before calling to the two M-Force representatives. "Looks like we found 'im boys."

Nick slide open the door, holding tightly onto the side as he leaned out of the helicopter. The sight that greeted him would certainly go down as one of the more bizarre scenes he'd witnessed in his lifetime.

He couldn't identify any normal creature that could be considered a "blueprint" for this mutation. If he had to name anything it looked most like a lizard of some sort, although the similarities ended with the head and body. Its four legs were towering trunks that almost seemed too thin to support the massive torso. Light greenish-blue scales covered its entire body, pointing to reptilian origins. The webbing on its neck and feet, however, made Nick suspect it was amphibious in nature as well. The head was round and stout, with a large mouth opening to reveal surprisingly dull teeth. All in all, it was a gangly, awkward-looking creature.

"What the heck is it?" Rich asked from behind Nick's shoulder.

"I don't know." Nick turned to the colonel. "Any chance you could bring us closer?"

The colonel made the appropriate remarks to the pilot before the copter swung in nearer to the beast. At a better vantage point, Nick could make out the dull, glazed look in its eyes that widened only when the creature stumbled, apparently holding a poor grasp on the specter known as balance. Its head turned to the side, surveying the city with a sort of muted interest before letting out small cry of distress.

"It seems confused," the biologist observed. "And it's not displaying any signs of aggression."

"Um hello?" Rich asked, clearly bewildered. "What do you call that attack on Solstice headquarters?"

Before Nick could respond, the mutant flicked its tail, unwittingly tearing through another nearby office building. Surprised, it stumbled back, away from what had made its already aching and bleeding tail feel worse.

"I don't think that was an attack, per se," Nick explained. "It doesn't look like it knows what it's doing, or what's going on right now."

The mutation's subsequent behavior only confirmed the brunette's hypothesis, as it peered curiously at the jets swirling around it. It ducked as one made an arc a bit too close to its head for its liking, but all in all it reacted very passively to what other mutants would correctly recognize as a threat.

"Since it's not displaying any kind of hostility right now," Nick shouted over the whirr of the helicopter blades. "I don't think provoking it via an air strike is a good idea."

The colonel was clearly skeptical, but decided to humor the supposed expert. "Then what do you suggest we do? Ask it if it will pretty please go away?"

"Something like that," the former oligachaetologist replied, stepping back into the full protection of the aircraft. "Our best bet right now is to try and lure it away from the city." He glanced out the window at the creature that was now making its way down the street. "The webbing makes me think it's at least partly amphibious in nature. Maybe we should lure it out to ocean for now." Nick then turned to Rich. "Contact Hicks, or M-Force headquarters if you can't reach him. Arrange for a transport to Monster Island."

"I'll see what I can do," Rich said hesitantly, knowing the current M-Force leadership preferred to terminate new mutations rather than house then on the already crowded island. "I'm not making any promises."

"They give you any flack, tell them to talk to me." The former leader of HEAT had had eight years of experience in dealing with stubborn officials who believed every mutant belonged in an oversized grave. Facing the colonel, he asked, "Is there any chance you could set us on the ground?"

Stuart shook his head. "I'm afraid this thing moves too fast for us to hope to keep up on foot. We'll stay close." Raising an eyebrow, he then asked, "Now how exactly do you plan on luring it into the Atlantic?"

"Well it depends," Nick began, "we don't know what it eats so bait is out of the question. It's a safe bet, however, to assume it will have either a positive or negative reaction to bright light."

The colonel wasn't following. "And we would use this how…?"

"The M-Force has used vehicles and air craft with large light panels on the side for this kind of thing before," the biologist explained. "We fly one up to it and set off bulbs flashing in front of its eyes. If it's attracted to light, it'll follow the copter wherever it goes. If it's repelled, it'll take a little more maneuvering to chase it into the ocean."

"How long until this mobile light show can get here?" Stuart asked.

"I'm working on it," Nick replied in a slightly irritated tone while fiddling with Rich's radio in hopes of finding the right frequency for the nearby M-Force base.

Colonel Stuart stared at the brunette for a moment before picking up the speaker to the on-board radio. "Major Lee? Start the air-strike."

Nick almost dropped the mic he was holding in shock. "What?" he cried. "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of the problem," Stuart replied evenly, no sympathy audible in his voice. "I have to think about how many lives waiting for your bait might cost."

"Lives?" the M-Force representative asked, livid. "It hasn't cost any lives yet. You can find dachshunds more aggressive than this thing!"

"Aggressive or not, we have to take it down." The colonel said, moving to the open door to get a better view of the action.

The first few missiles took the creature by surprise, opening gaping wounds and tearing through its flesh. Distraught, it roared in pain and stumbled away, trying to flee from its attackers. Another fighter jet flew up behind it, poised to strike. The mutation disposed of it with one swift movement of its tail, sending the aircraft into the side of a department store.

"It's running back towards the water," Nick muttered to Rich. "We can only hope it gets there before the cavalry tears it apart."

Indeed, the beast was making a beeline towards the body of water from which it had emerged, hoping to find sanctuary within its depths. A sharp stab of pain in its back, however, stopped it in its tracks. Enraged, it turned to face the craft that had taken it upon itself to give chase to the frightened creature.

Two more missiles found their targets, one tearing straight through its shoulder blade while another embedded itself in its abdomen. Struggling to stay upright, the mutation swayed dangerously close to toppling onto an apartment building.

Noting this, Nick chose to chew out the colonel. "You said you wanted to prevent the unnecessary loss of human life? You kill it here and it'll destroy any nearby buildings when it falls on them."

"It'd destroy those buildings on its own," Stuart retorted, unconcerned. "The thing staggers around like it's drunk."

Lacking a suitable response, Nick fell quiet again as he watched the continued assault on what had been a benign, if misguided mutation. The creature opened its mouth, pink, narrow tongue lashing about furiously. An unfamiliar jet tore between the paths of two others, heading straight for the open crevice. Rich's eyes widened in shock. "What does he think he's doing?"

The jet's actions spoke for itself as it pulled up at the last minute after launching a large, silver-gray parcel into the mutant's throat. Choking, it hacked uncontrollably, almost collapsing as it tried to dislodge the unwelcome entity.

Nick was confused. "What was that for?"

That question was answered as a loud ticking was heard, followed by the detonation of the delivered explosive, tearing the mutant's throat apart from the inside out.

-Costa Rica-

Verdant jungle foliage, soaked with drops from a recent shower, scraped along the canvas top of the Jeep that plowed through the uneven terrain. Birds took flight from their perches and animals scattered as soon as the noisy behemoth came into view. Idly, Elsie hoped they could only be so lucky with the mutation that lived there as well.

"So the two of you are married?" Worthington asked brightly, addressing the pair sitting opposite him and Elsie.

Candy nodded. "Four years next month."

"You make quite the pair." He glanced almost uncertainly at Elsie before asking his next question, as he didn't want to open up any sore wounds. "Did you meet on one of HEAT's trips to New Mexico?"

"That we did," Candy replied, "though we didn't really start dating until after the team disbanded."

"Of course." The Jeep remained silent for a moment, the with only the sounds of the occasional branch scraping its side or underbrush getting crushed by its wheel being heard.

Randy cleared his throat. If there was one thing he hated more than being cooped up in a crowded vehicle, it was awkward silences. No need to subject himself to two tortures at once. Feeling brave, he turned to Elsie. "So…" he started, hoping she wouldn't bite his head for being too conversational, "how have things been going with you?"

Luckily, Elsie had calmed down from the initial shock of working with her former teammate and now presented a decidedly neutral, vaguely interested front. "Ok I guess. We discovered a possible Carnotaurus in Argentina."

"You mean the thing in the Zodiac?" Randy asked, unwrapping a granola bar for a quick energy boost.

Elsie blinked. "You know, I really should introduce you to Jimmy." She shook her head at his confused look. "Never mind."

Randy shrugged. Not like he'd know anything about dinosaurs. "Kept in touch with anyone from the team? Dr. C maybe?"

After remaining quiet for a moment, Elsie shook her head. "No. Mendel and I haven't spoken in years." There was something decidedly wistful in her tone, though not so much longing as it was regret. No one liked to lose contact with a close friend. "Have you heard from him?"

"Naw," the younger man answered. "The only person I still talk to is Nick."

Not even a little surprised, Elsie nodded. That made sense. "How's he been?"

"Ok I guess," Randy said with a mouth full of granola.

"Don't talk with your mouth full dear," Candy reprimanded, not looking up from the book she was reading.

"Sorry," he mumbled, before swallowing. "Nick's been working with the M-Force."

A red eyebrow arched. "You mean he actually joined?"

"No, not really," the ex-hacker replied. "I don't know what the exact details are, but he's kind of a consultant. He usually works with the Force, though he takes on jobs for individual governments or private clients now and then."

"Oh." Elsie looked at Randy thoughtfully. "Funny, but I thought I'd see you working with him."

Candy glanced at her husband, wondering both if he'd respond to that, and more importantly, how. His decision hadn't been an easy one and she wasn't sure Randy wanted to revisit that worn path.

Apparently, however, he was willing to do it for now. "After Nick officially disbanded the team, I went back to school full-time and got a job as an intern at a software company. We stayed in touch, and a month or so later Nick called with an offer to come with him on a mission that the Peruvian government had enlisted his expertise for. At the time he had actually gone back to studying his worms, but he decided to put that on temporary hold to help them out. I turned him down that time, since I had midterms."

Randy paused to take a sip from his wife's canteen. "But then the next mission came up, and the next after that. It seemed Nick's name was still out there, even if HEAT no longer existed. Every so often, he'd get a call, tuck the worms away, and go chase mutants. And every time, at least in the beginning, he asked me if I wanted to come."

Putting the canteen down, he continued, lowering his voice as it became twinged with the smallest hint of regretful nostalgia. "I went him with to Thailand during spring break. But neither of us was sure how stable an arrangement this would be. It wasn't a real job." The dark-haired man shrugged. "Nick was willing to take his chances, but I decided to play it safe. He already had to do a lot of sweet-talking to get some people to let me come along in the first place. It just made sense that I should give it up and focus on finishing school and becoming an official member of the rat race."

Elsie absorbed the new information. "So where do you work?"

Chuckling sheepishly, he replied, "Well I used to work at Zolcroft."

"Used to?"

Randy eyes darted away from Elsie's critical gaze. "There was some…unpleasantness. But not the kind you're thinking of," he quickly added, noting the look on Elsie's face. "The boss thought I got snippy with a customer, which I didn't."

"It's a good thing hon," Candy said, joining in on the conversation. "You hated it there. Time to move on to new and better things."

A connection made itself clear in Elsie's mind. "That why you're here?"

Candy nodded. "I thought he could use a little break before heading back to the corporate world."

"Some break," the redhead snorted. "Chasing a man-eating nighttime predator."

"Trust me," Randy began, "It's an improvement over my old job. A big one."

Elsie didn't doubt that. She'd heard enough horror stories about corporate America from her friends. Made her thankful for her line of work, even if it forced her to inhale an unholy amount of dust while digging in the dirt.

"We're coming up on the clearing in which they found the last victim," Worthington interjected, noting a break in the conversation. It wasn't that he didn't want the former colleagues to get reacquainted, far from it. But they did have a job to do, and he wanted to get it done quickly, so that Elsie would not become too irate over missing her work.

"How much longer till we get there?" Randy asked, noticing the ride dragging on too long for his taste.

Phillip spoke rapidly to the driver in Spanish before answering, though Randy had understood the conversation. "A few more minutes…" he trailed off before a large, fallen tree trunk came into view, blocking the SUV's path. "Or on second thought, perhaps a bit more than that."

Candace peered at the fallen structure. "Think this is a result of the storm?"

"Guess again," Elsie remarked, pointing to claw marks clearly visible in the plant's side. "Looks like something thought this tree would be better off in a horizontal position."

"Something big," Randy muttered, noting how the trunk had been ripped from the ground. "Think we've found a clue?"

The paleontologist didn't answer, instead opening the door and getting out of the Jeep to investigate. The others followed suit, sinking a bit into the muddy ground. Elsie ran her hand across the fallen tree, pausing a bit when her fingers ran over a sticky substance. Candy noticed it too. "Tree sap?"

Elsie shook her head. "I don't think so. It's not viscous enough." She turned to face Worthington, who was still standing by the Jeep. "Can you toss me a small biohazard bag? And maybe something to scrape this off with?"

He complied, after which the redhead carefully sponge the mystery substance into the bag. Sealing it, she remarked, "It may just be from one of the natural residents, but a little lab analysis wouldn't hurt."

A rustling could be heard to the side. An alarmed look crossed Candy's face. "What was that?"

The same rustling, closer this time. Randy swallowed nervously. "That pet project of your's," he asked Worthington, "he only comes out at night, right?" They had left the few weapons they brought along in the Jeep. Though it was only a few steps away, he doubted they'd be able to reach them in time should the need for self-defense against a bloodthirsty lab experiment gone wrong arise.

Candy moved closer to the parked SUV, willing to take her chances at grabbing a tranquilizer should be they attacked. Heart racing, she bumped against the cool steel of the Jeep, fingers twitching in anticipation.

Fortunately, the source of the rustling was not a hungry predator. Unfortunately, it wasn't that much of a step up.

A man wearing a dark green uniform stepped into view, brushing bits of leaves off his shoulders before addressing Worthington and Co. "I'm Brett Barnes, Agent 452 of the M-Force." He flashed an ID to confirm his identity. "And I'm afraid you're trespassing in a restricted area."

"Oh my," Phillip feigned shock. "I didn't realize we weren't allowed to be here."

Brett nodded curtly. "It's ok sir, but we'll need to escort you back to the village. It's not safe out here."

"We're well aware of the risks," Worthington explained. "We were only hoping to do a little investigating of our own. The last time I checked, that was perfectly legal."

"You might want to double-check whatever gave you that idea," a woman's voice called out, as Brett's partner made her way through the underbrush. "Only M-Force and Costa Rican officials are allowed here. Right Brett?" Receiving no answer, she paused, tempted to wave a hand in front of her partner's face. "Brett?"

"Don't I know you?" he asked, looking between Elsie and Randy strangely.

"I don't believe we've met," the paleontologist answered honestly.

The agent didn't let up. "I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before…"

"Maybe you just thought you did," Randy quickly cut him off, wary of where the man's train of thought was heading. "We're just a rag-tag bunch of bored tourists, looking for an adventure." It was a poor cover story, but the best the software engineer could come up with off the top of his head.

"Right," Brett agreed, not voicing the internal revelation that had gone off in his head. "In any case, you need to come with us."

Sandra, the other agent, pulled apart some large leaves to reveal another SUV parked nearby. "You can follow us back to town."

Candy glanced to Phillip for guidance. He leaned down towards her ear and spoke quietly. "Just do what they say for now. We'll get around this later." He motioned for the others to pile into the Jeep before calling to the two agents. "We'll be fine. We know the way back."

"Then you won't mind if we follow you?" Brett asked, not quite willing to trust them.

The old man smiled. "I certainly can't stop you. Suit yourself." With that, he shut the Jeep door and signaled the driver to turn around and peel away.

Watching the Jeep disappear into the distance, Sandra started back towards their vehicle. "Well? Aren't we following them?"

"Yeah," the male agent agreed, two steps behind his partner. "But after we make sure they get back to town, we've got a phone call to make."

She regarded him oddly. "Think this was that big a deal? Sure they're overly curious, but if we keep an eye on them I don't see them doing much harm."

Brett shook his head. "Trust me," he said, "Dr. Tatopoulos is going to want to hear about this."

-New York, New York-

Wiping bits of sprayed mutant flesh from his face, Nick cursed his decision to not close the helicopter hatch and felt his hold on his temper slip even further. "What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded, glaring at Colonel Stuart.

"I took care of the situation," he replied coolly before lifting the speaker to his radio again. "Lee? We're going to need a clean-up crew."

Blue eyes traveled downwards and across the gargantuan form that now lay motionless in the street, head completely torn off. On the ground, bystanders gagged from the sight and stench, some doubling over and vomiting on the grass. The jets had disappeared and New York City law enforcement was doing its best to clear the area for a biohazard clean-up effort.

Rich shrugged, holding onto a nearby bar as the helicopter started to fly back to their pick-up point near Solstice Technologies. "Monster Island is getting too crowded anyway."

Nick turned his glare on his colleague, stunned that he'd say something like that. "Too crowded? So what, we just slaughter every mutant we come across just because we don't have any place to put them?"

"This wasn't some innocent martyr, Dr. Tatopoulos," Stuart firmly interrupted. "If you don't recall, it did attack one of my fighters."

"After you shot god knows how many missiles at it!" the biologist cried, exasperated. "We could have resolved this peacefully, without unnecessarily killing something that wasn't a threat."

"We didn't know that it wouldn't become a threat," Stuart replied.

Nick could only stare in disbelief. "Using that logic we should just throw everyone in jail at all times. Never know who could become a threat."

The colonel grit his teeth, losing his patience with the headstrong scientist. "Honestly, how many harmless mutants do you know?"

"There are plenty," Nick began, "but the military's too busy blowing them up to give them a chance."

"Give them a chance?" the officer snorted before leaning closer to Nick and sneering at him. "You mean like your little pet project?"

Eyes narrowing, the former leader of HEAT clenched his fists. "Godzilla was never a pet, or a project," he spat. "He was the biggest ally we've ever had in our fight against dangerous mutants."

"Too bad he was one himself," Stuart added off-handedly. "Trusting in savage beasts may be well and good for you, but most prefer the support of always-obedient weaponry."

The helicopter came to rest on the ground and the colonel promptly got off, with Nick following only a few paces behind. "We didn't have to worry about Godzilla being 'obedient.''' The brunette let out a dry laugh. "What could we do if he decided that he didn't want to listen to us? He protected and helped us because he wanted to, because to him it was the right thing to do."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" the colonel asked incredulously, unable to stifle a small laugh. "You think a giant, fire-breathing lizard knew anything about 'the right thing to do?'"

"Mine did," Nick said quietly, suddenly retreating from the heated argument as the matter became a little too personal for his taste.

-

Another loud crash and the noisy whine of jets flying overhead made Mendel Craven cover his ears in irritation. Jonah noted the new direction of the fighter jets' paths. "They're flying away. Think we won?"

The blond sighed. "I guess. I don't see the Air Force running from a fight."

"Must not have been a very exciting fight," the younger man observed. "Cause that was awfully quick."

Mendel shrugged. That wasn't really something to complain about. "Are you feeling better?" he asked hesitantly, a not-so-hidden guilty look in his eyes.

Jonah laughed. "You want to leave, don't you?"

"No," the robotist tried to assure him. "I wouldn't abandon you like that."

"Really? Because that seemed to be the first thing on your mind since I first spoke to you." He smirked. "Guess this brace comes with a helping of extra sympathy."

Mendel smiled. "Apparently."

Jonah leaned back and waved the older man away. "Go if you want. I would. Not likely that we'll be continuing our discussion with Solstice anytime soon."

"You sure you'll be fine?" Even if he did find the up-and-coming star in the technological community irritating, Mendel didn't want to leave him to fend for himself while injured.

"Don't worry about me," Jonah assured him. "I can take care of myself. I think they're going to drive me over to a real hospital soon anyways." He motioned towards the front of the med-station. "What about that gal you came in with?"

"I don't know…" Mendel trailed off, having almost forgotten about Monique. "I guess Nick can take care of her, or at least tell someone else to."

Nodding, Jonah left the matter at that. "Well then I guess I'll be seeing you Dr. Craven." He stuck out a hand. "It's been a pleasure, albeit a rather strange one towards the end."

"Same here," the blond said, shaking Jonah's outstretched hand.

The younger man laughed. "Liar. But I appreciate the pretense nonetheless."

-

Exiting the medical tent, Mendel surveyed the rather chaotic scene. More people were being brought into the makeshift clinic, though thankfully none of the injuries looked too serious. He wondered how he'd ever make it to JFK airport in time to make his flight home to Pittsburgh. Every road in view was closed, and traffic had probably gone to hell. Frowning, his thoughts wandered to his favorite yellow creation. He couldn't believe he had let Jonah talk him into storing NIGEL in a crate and leaving it under paid guard at the airport. Sure NIGEL had a complex tracking system that would allow Mendel to find him should he ever become lost, but still.

In any case, he first had to figure out how he'd get out of here. The immediate area was fenced off by police line. Deciding to try and sneak past the officials, Mendel hoped he wouldn't be considered important enough to bother chasing.

Unfortunately, he was wrong. "Excuse me Dr. Craven, but I can't let you leave."

Mendel turned around to face the person who had just grabbed his arm. "Rich?"

The M-Force agent nodded. "You're going to have to come with us."

The professor didn't understand what was going on. Why on earth would he have to stay? "Come with you where?"

"I don't know yet," Rich shrugged. "But it'll be awhile, seeing as we have to get this mess cleaned up."

Remaining calm, Mendel knew he'd have a better chance of wheedling his way out if he didn't anger any of the authorities. "Why exactly do I have to stay?"

"You were part of a sensitive meeting," the agent explained. "The Force can't just let you walk away without a debriefing of some sort."

"Debriefing?" the blond asked. "A debriefing of what? Nick and I didn't even get to meet Winter." Unless Nick had told them otherwise. But why would he do that?

"Mr. Winter says otherwise," Rich stated. "And we need to find out how much Dr. Tatopoulos told you."

"He didn't tell me anything. And I guess I technically did meet Winter, but we barely even spoke. He was just asking where Nick was."

Rich looked at him strangely. "Nick wasn't with you? Where was he?"

Gulping, Mendel recognized his slip-up. "Umm…bathroom?"

"Right..." The man's odd answers to basic questions were all the more reasons to interrogate him. Leading Mendel off to a waiting van, Rich stayed firm in his resolve. "Whatever the case may be, this is a matter of procedure. I hope you understand."

-

Bryan Huang peeked his head out of the med-tent. Seeing Mendel Craven otherwise preoccupied with an dark-haired man, he decided to seek out the only other person he could consult about the still unconscious woman lying on a nearby cot. Spotting him, the Asian man jogged up towards the apparently sulking figure. "Dr. Tatopoulos?"

Hearing his name jerked Nick out of a temporary reverie. "What?"

"What do you want me to do about the woman you brought in?" he asked, nodding towards the tent.

Nick mulled over that. "Get her to a hospital as soon as possible. Once she wakes up, let her decide what she wants to do."

"Ok I guess," Bryan said hesitantly. "You sure you don't want her to come with you?" At the other man's questioning look, he explained himself further. "You did say she was your friend when you brought her in, or at least you referred to her that way."

Chuckling, the biologist clarified his earlier comments a bit. "Right. Well I guess you could call her something like that at one time. Now? Not so much."

"Oh," the paramedic nodded sympathetically, thinking he understood. "Ex-girlfriend?"

Nick blinked. "What?"

Realizing he'd made a faux pas, Bryan hastily expanded on the reasoning that had led to the apparently incorrect conclusion. "It's just the way you were talking about her, I guess it seemed-"

"Don't worry about it," the brunette cut him off good-naturedly. "I guess I can see why you might think that. She was an 'old friend,' but I actually just meant 'friend.' She and I were never an item." He chuckled a bit. That would be interesting, to say the least.

Relieved, Bryan moved to wrap things up. "You sure you don't want to check up on her before you leave?"

"Positive," Nick replied, eyes scanning the premises for Rich. Finding him, he exchanged good-byes with the paramedic before making his way through the crowd, shivering slightly. Wrapping his arms around himself, he wished he had brought another coat.

The M-Force rep stopped in his tracks. His coat. With the folder from Winter's office. Now wrapped around Monique.

Cursing his carelessness, Nick immediately turned on his heel and rapidly made his way back to the mobile clinic. "Hey!" he called, catching sight of Bryan entering the tent again.

The younger man looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"On second thought, it probably would be a good idea for me to see how she's doing," Nick said, ducking into the tent and kneeling besides Monique. "That ok?"

Bryan shrugged. "No problem," he said, before departing to tend to an injured cubicle jockey from Solstice.

Glancing to both sides, Nick tried to be as discrete as possible. He had put the folder in the side of his jacket, a little bit towards the back. With the way he wrapped the coat around Monique, however, it was probably moved entirely. Peeling away the initial layer of the coat, he gently shifted Monique to her side, exposing her back. Sure enough, the folder dropped out of the coat and came to rest just above Monique's waist. Sighing in relief, Nick grabbed it and was about to leave when something caught his eye.

It was small, almost negligible at first glance, even though the dark red ink contrasted sharply with Monique's ivory skin. The color or size, however, was not the aspect of the tattoo that currently held Nick's attention with an unmatchable intensity. It was the ring. The ring with a lone flame enclosed in it. The ring that had burned itself into his memory years ago.

"Dr. Tatopoulos? Are you ok?" Bryan called from across the tent, noting the expression on the brunette's face with concern.

Swallowing, Nick did his best to keep his voice even and his emotions under control. "I'm fine." Covering Monique up again, he shakily rose to his feet. "But there's been a change of plans. She's coming with me."

-Japan-

The overwhelming musk of raw fish wafted down from the kitchen, causing the teenager who plopped down cross-legged on the floor of her living room to gag. Sure it was good once it became sushi, but she wasn't a fan of the fresh out of the ocean scent. Unfortunately for her, she got more than her fair share of exposure to it, as her father was a fisherman.

"Miyako!" her mother's voice rang out from the adjoining room. "Did you pick your brother up from soccer practice?"

"I thought Dad would," she answered, irritation making its way into her voice.

"Kaz just called," Atsume Yamuri reprimanded her daughter. "He's been waiting for thirty minutes outside school. You were supposed to stop by on your way home and pick him up."

Miyako sighed in exasperation. "I told you, Dad was supposed to get him!"

The middle-aged woman frowned. "Where is he anyway?" Pausing for a moment, she contemplated their best course of action. "I'm going to take the car and pick Kazaki up." Atsume then looked at Miyako pointedly. "But that doesn't mean you're getting off the hook. Take your bike and swing by the wharf to see if your father needs help. He should have been home two hours ago."

The dark-haired teen groaned. "Do I have to?"

"Indeed you do," her mother replied, not a single trace of sympathy in her voice. She grabbed her keys from a nearby table and strode out the door. "Get moving Miyako! We want your father home in time for dinner."

-

If Miyako had thought the odor of recently deceased fish was unbearable in her kitchen, there was little that could prepare her for the stench of the wharf – including previous visits. Making a grand show of holding her breath, she garnered strange stares from the fisherman milling about. Not many locals were so sensitive to the scent of seafood.

Locking up her bike, the seventeen-year-old strolled down the docks, eyes rapidly scanning the horizon for any sign of her father's fishing boat. Strangely, however, she did not see the large watercraft in its usual spot near the end of the docks. She did, however, notice police cars and an ambulance.

Frowning, she increased her pace and squinted to see more. A rescue ship was stationed nearby, its inhabitants barking orders at the people on land. Swallowing, Miyako attempted to calm her now racing heartbeat. It probably didn't have anything to do with her dad. She didn't even think it was in the right spot. Her father's ship docked a few yards farther down, right?

Feet now moving in a jog, she listened to the whispered conversations that grew in intensity the closer she got to the accident. The words "Taiga" floated around, increasing the teen's alarm. That was the name of her father's boat. Had something happened to it?

The scene that gradually came into view answered her unspoken question and slowed the motion of her feet until they were planted to the ground in shock. Mouth hanging open, her throat went dry with the combination of disbelief and paralyzing fear.

"Taiga" was barely visible anymore, thanks to the jagged wound in the hull of the ship. Or at least what was left of the ship. Most of the once almost majestic craft had been ripped away, as if the hand of God had grabbed the vessel and furiously torn it apart. Blood stained the top of the stern, and Miyako could barely make out the form of a man draped across the railing, unmoving. Any glass had been shattered and it was a miracle that the ravaged boat barely stayed afloat.

Sprinting, Miyako frantically tried to break through the ever-increasing crowd around the morbid scene. "Move!" she screamed, fists bounding on the back of an exceptionally large man. "My father, I have to see my father!"

The man ignored her, prompting the frightened girl to squeeze between him and a neighboring bystander. Law enforcement swarmed the scene, shouting into walkie-talkies and forcing the oncoming crowd back. Miyako could only make out bits and pieces of what they said to each other.

"Third attack in last two weeks," one said in a low voice to a fellow rescue worker. "All the same. Huge boats absolutely ravaged. Few survivors, if any." Those last words gave rise to a hollow, sinking feeling in Miyako's chest. "A nearby vessel got a visual this time. We know what did this."

The worker leaned in close to their colleague's ear to whisper the rest of that line of thought, causing the other's eyes to go wide. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," came the grim reply.

'What are they talking about?' the girl thought. 'What happened to my father?' Deciding to take the initiative, she freed herself from the surrounding crowd's grasp and rushed towards the conversing rescue workers. "What happened? Are there any survivors? What did this?" Her questions were rushed and flurried, but the uncertainty of the situation threw her normally rational way of thinking out the window.

"You need to move back young lady," the rescuer sternly told her. "We can't have everyone-"

The rest of his sentence, however, went unheard as a figure lying behind the workers caught Miyako's eye. Violently pushing past the surprised officials, she lunged towards the broken form. "Dad!"

Looking up at the hysterical teenager, the medic tending to the injured man moved slightly to allow the daughter to kneel at his side. Concerned after getting no response, Miyako tried to catch her father's attention again. "Dad? It's me, Miyako."

Glassy eyes moved to regard the figure that now stared fearfully at them. The man still did not respond, presumably more through inability rather than choice. The expression on his face and the stiffness of his entire body pointed to him still being in shock.

Biting her lip in an effort to keep from crying, Miyako turned to the paramedic, repeating a question she had already asked to no avail. "What happened?"

"The boat was attacked," he replied, mulling over how tight-lipped he should be around the victim's family.

Not placated by the obvious answer, Miyako pressed on. "Attacked by what?"

The paramedic looked at her sympathetically, but remained cryptic. "I'm afraid I can't tell you yet."

A look of righteous indignation erupting on her face, the teenager opened her mouth to demand more information when a gasp from her father cut her off. Head whipping around to face him once again, she appeared more hopeful. "Dad? Are you awake?"

"G-Go…"

"Go?" Miyako repeated, confused. What was that? "Go-what?" She paused, thinking over the mumbling. "Did this Go thing attack you."

Her father eyes only stared straight ahead, focused on an indeterminable point in space. Breath coming in raspy gasps, he uttered a name that had remained unheard of for six years.

"Gojira…Gojira!"

And then, as if summoned by the speaking of his name, the head of the great beast emerged from the sea. Blinking at the crowd gathered on the docks, he snorted, and then opened his jaws to release a deafening, terrifying roar.

Sorry that took so long. I hope it was worth the wait. :o) And I know things are moving slowly, but I don't want to make this too contrived.

If anyone's ever wondering about what's going on with this story while I'm in the process of writing, make sure to check my profile. I update it every few days with a status report of sorts on the next chapter.