"Duo, Trowa, Quatre, Wufei." The words were soft, and yet cut through the air like a knife, bringing the other pilots to the speaker's side. Heero looked up from Kitty's computer, which he had stolen and quickly modified in order to complete his objective.

"I've finished procuring some of Xavier's money and funneling it into accounts in Zurich." Duo hung over the edge of the chair, his braid falling into Heero's lap as he leaned forward, squinting at the information onscreen. The other pilots crowded around the desk, looking over the numbers on the screen with the shrewd cunning of entrepreneurs.

"Apparently Xavier gets a large monthly stipend from the government for taking these 'mutants' out of the public view. I've diverted twenty percent of that into our accounts. There is one shared between all of us, as well as private ones. Quatre-" the blonde looked up quickly, gesturing for Heero to continue- "-I've found one of your ancestors; they already have a sizable fortune. I believe his name is Bill Gates. I've stolen funds from him as well; small enough to not be noticed, and if in the unlikely event that it is, my path is untraceable."

"The communal account has five-hundred thousand dollars, with an addition each month of the same amount. Each of our private accounts has twenty-thousand dollars. I've made counterfeit credit cards for each of you; you'd be surprised at how primitive their anti-counterfeit technology is here." Heero turned to look at each of them, smiling a sad, small smile. "A small amount of money has been earmarked for you to feed your addictions. Duo, your alcohol is funded. I opened up a small tab for you at a liquor store in the town; Bayville, I believe it is called. Trowa, your LSD is provided for as well. I trust each of you have verified that you have immunity to the harmful affects of your chosen drugs?" The pilots nodded perfunctorily, waiting for him to continue.

"Quatre, your tranquilizer pills are paid for; you can pick up your monthly supply at the same drugstore Duo's alcohol is at. Wufei, your heroin is funded." Wufei looked up quietly to meet Heero's eyes, surprised at the rare expression in them. There was no surprise, no disappointment, no condescension, nothing but calm acceptance of their individual coping strategies. The former Wing pilot's lips pulled into a wry, slight smile.

"As for myself, I've developed more then a passing addiction to menthol cigarettes. Is the amount of money in your accounts agreeable?"

Duo whooped loudly and swooped down to slide an arm around Heero's slender shoulders. Heero tensed, his hand going for his gun, before he realized that it was Duo, not an enemy, and he relaxed and accepted the embrace resignedly.

"It's more then 'agreeable,' Heero! It's great, actually! Thank you!" Duo chattered, squeezing Heero energetically. Trowa smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling in amusement; Quatre grasped Heero's hand happily; and Wufei, always dignified, bowed gravely.

The noise of thundering footsteps made them whip around, guns drawn. Kitty's shrill voice echoed down the hallway as she shrieked loudly,

"Guys! My laptop is missing! Come help me find it! GUYS!" Duo smiled slyly, picking up the laptop and sliding over to the window. "I'll go return it," he offered, unlatching the window and leaping nimbly to the ground below.


"Chuck, we need to get them out of here!" Charles Xavier watched Logan pace calmly, one eyebrow raised. He knew who Logan was referring to, of course; how could he not? Logan had been noticeably frustrated with the fact that none of his contacts knew anything about the new mutants.

"I mean, it's like they just dropped in from the sky!" Charles leaned back in his wheelchair and said wearily,

"And why, pray tell, do we need to make them leave?" Logan snorted, irritated at the younger man's blindness, and turned, shoulders hunched in anger.

"You haven't seen them. The way they move; it's like they think they're in a war zone, and there's an enemy around every corner. They handle their guns, their swords, their knives, like professionals, like they've been trained to kill. The way they speak is military; the terseness, the clipped accents." He stomped forward, hobnailed boots clicking on the wooden floor, and slapped his palms down on the desk, staring intensely at the Professor.

"Jesus Christ, Chuck, that Trowa kid nearly slaughtered Kurt when he teleported into the living room! In the library, when Scott was showing the younger kids a film about the Friends of Humanity, one of the people on screen fired off a gun. I heard that Duo nearly had a heart-attack! He leaped up on top of one of the bookcases, pulled out three knives, each one between two knuckles, and threw them at the speaker that the sound had come from. Needless to say, we've got to buy a new one. Wufei has been frightening all the students, ever since the Porcupine challenged him to a duel and Wufei disarmed him in less then ten seconds. All the older students are terrified of Quatre; one of the oldest students tried to beat him up. Quatre's eyes apparently turned an odd silver color and he began laughing. Then he knocked out the bully and made it look easy. And now the younger kids worship him.

That Heero kid- No one ever sees him, you know? He stays in their room, never leaves except in the middle of the night, and his friends bring him food. And Chuck?"

The Professor looked up, waving him to continue. Logan did so, his voice grave.

"I've seen soldiers come home from war with legs and arms blown off; I've seen people who've lost their entire families to war or hunger or disease; I've seen children killed for being mutants. I'd like to think I've seen the worst of humanity, Chuck, but I've never seen eyes that are as cold and dead as Heero's."


The five pilots followed Scott down the halls of the Institute's basement, heading for the Danger Room. Trowa was bearing the backpack containing their collection of weaponry. Scott was speaking in a pompous, loud voice, 'briefing' them on the Danger Room.

"The Danger Room is where we train. It has eight levels; eight is easiest, one is the hardest. You may face a variety of opponents; holographic assassins, robots, tentacles armed with saws and tazers. Each level has rules. In level one, you must not kill any of the holographic assassins. In level two, you may not kill anyone, but you may remove their legs or arms. From level three onwards, you may kill anyone. Each level lasts about five minutes. Your uniforms will be in the room to the left of the entrance."


Duo held up his uniform in disgust. "Aw, hell no! I'm not wearing this!" They all looked exactly alike; all were black spandex, all had a red symbol with a black 'X' in the center. Quatre and Wufei were making muffled noises of disapproval as well, scrutinizing the spandex angrily. Trowa and Heero were already dressing, Trowa rolling his eyes at the other's complaining.

"Duo, the faster you get in the thing, the faster you can get out of it," Heero reasoned logically. Duo glared at him for a moment before he grunted and began to struggle into it, Wufei and Quatre following his lead.

Kitty poked her head in, eyes widening and bile rising in her throat. The new mutants looked positively skeletal! The sharps planes and angles of their hips, ribs, and collarbones poked out from underneath the cloth, bones seeming to push restlessly against the black cloth as though yearning to break free. And with as thin and fragile as they seemed- maybe she should warn the Professor? Duo brushed by her ill-temperedly, his braid flicking in the air behind him. The other four followed, Quatre smiling at her apologetically.


Logan glared down at the featureless metal room; more specifically, the small cluster of people down there. When the new mutants had stridden into the room, everyone in the observation deck had gasped audibly. Not just at their skeletal frames, but at their formidable armory of weapons strapped to their bodies.

Heero had knives strapped around his legs, in his boots, around his upper arms, and a sword; a katana, if Logan judged correctly, sheathed diagonally across his back. His gun, obviously well-used and well-loved, was holstered; several leather pouches of bullets were strung around the belt he wore.

Duo seemed to have gone for the more close-combat route. Knives, knives, knives ranged about his body. Every square inch of his frame, excluding his head and braid, was covered with knives. Two spring-loaded sheaths were attached to the bottoms of his wrists; a leather bandolier strung across his chest; several vials were kept securely in the small pockets, each filled with some unidentifiable substance. Poison, probably.

Trowa was more minimalist in his approach; he had a gun and two bands of complexly woven material around his wrists. Needles gleamed in the dim light, secreted away in the bracelets. What their purpose was, Logan did not know, but he had updated the simulator to include those as possible weapons.

Quatre seemed to be primarily a long-range combatant. Throwing knives were strung across his chest; several small metal javelins, barely two feet long, were held in a quiver on his hip. A gun rested in a shoulder holster, the enameled grip glinting in the light.

Wufei was probably the most lightly armed; he had his sword and a gun, nothing else. Only two weapons.

Still- each one of them was a walking arsenal.

"A'right," he barked into the microphone, "Beginning the simulation."

Light shimmered in the air around them before it coalesced into a mountainous area, with deep, craggy canyons that ripped the jagged earth in two. Black shadows began to move, forming into stealthy assailants.

Slowly, the enemy moved towards the waiting mutants.

The five pilots shared a glance, almost amused, before they began to sign quickly to each other.

Two of us should pair up; the other three will be a group.)

(04- I'm a long-range combatant primarily; so it's a tossup for me between Duo, Wufei, or Heero.)

(03- I'll go with Quatre and Wufei. Is that alright with you, 01, 02?)

(02- Yeah, sure! Come on, Heero! It's killin' time!)

The mutants on the control deck stared, befuddled, at the calm communication between them, while the enemy crept up on their backs.

"What are they doing?" Scott muttered to himself, only to have his eyes fly wide

open as the new mutants exploded into frantic, nearly-choreographed action.

Heero and Duo bounded away from the other three, the long-haired man moving silently, swiftly, as Heero feinted to the right, drawing the opponents off. The five attackers followed him for a moment, their soulless gray eyes blank beneath the cloth of their masks.

One of the five attackers plunged forward, the others moving around in a pincer movement to trap Heero and Duo- In an odd, almost lazy manner, Heero crouched and rested his weight on one hand, his legs sweeping out and knocking the opponent to the ground. One thin hand came back, clenched, white-knuckle tight, into a fist- Heero began battering the prone attacker, who struggled feebly to escape. Seeming to grow bored with the struggling, Heero drew back a knee and rammed it into the opponent's solar plexus, driving the air from him and knocking the attacker unconscious. He shimmered for a moment, and then disappeared.

The other four were having trouble with Duo. Like a snake, he slipped easily through their hands, a wild, vicious grin firmly affixed to his heart-shaped face. One of the opponent's hands swung forward in a wild jab; Duo dodged it by a hair, his hand coming up to entrap the opponent's arm and pull him forward. It was an odd parody of an embrace, the attacker disappearing as soon as Duo's other hand grasped one of the nerves in his neck and squeezed hard, leaving the opponent unconscious. Heero suddenly appeared by him, and with astonishing speed, they disposed of the other three assailants.

Wufei plunged forward with a snarl, grasping one of the shadowy figure's arms and pulling it behind his back, whereupon Trowa slammed his hand into the attacker's jaw, snapping his head back and knocking him out.

Quatre back-flipped nimbly, digging his fingers into the cracks in the side of the canyon and hauling one of the enemies with him. The 'man' choked feebly, his blank gray eyes rolling back into his head. Quatre dropped him with a muttered oath, and leapt back into battle.

Trowa bent down on one knee as Wufei sprinted forward. As soon as the other pilot planted a foot on his spine, he heaved upwards, sending Wufei into freefall. Wufei landed on another assailant, scooping up a rock from the canyon wall and braining him with it.

Quatre and Trowa looked around for Heero and Duo, smiling ferally as the other two joined them. The five pilots moved back-to-back, and then resumed their deadly playtime.

"Level Eight," Logan said, voice carefully inflectionless. "You can kill 'em, use all yer weapons. Begin."

A hiss of air heralded the unsheathing of Heero's sword. The blade glinted in the light as he swung it through the air carefully before letting the blade rest on the ground. The five mutants looked at each other with dark, untamed grins, and there was a deadly, insane light in their varicolored eyes. "Two for each of us," Duo muttered softly.

Ten men stood, lined up like toy soldiers, across the room from them. There were no pretty illusions this time, nothing but cold metal and gleaming holographic blood.

Wufei broke away from the group, withdrawing his gun and firing two bullets. One of the attackers flailed in agony, fragments of bone, tissue, and skin flying out from the gaping, dark wound of his chest. The other howled in rage and sprinted forward, withdrawing a sword and lowering it to point directly at Wufei's torso. The Oriental, seeming bored, pulled his sword out and shifted his stance.

The attacker reached him and slashed sideways, spinning with the force of the blow and thrusting it forward. Wufei was already gone, the blade hissing as he drove it forward. The clang of metal on metal rang loudly in the air, the blades locking and sliding across each other. Wufei pulled back his hand and smashed it into the opponent's nose, driving the bone into the brain and killing him. Just to make sure, he sliced the assailant's throat easily, standing back as red arterial blood poured onto the ground. The body shimmered, and then disappeared as Wufei sheathed his sword and leaned against the wall, waiting for the others to finish their matches.

Quatre pulled out one of his short javelins and pressed a button. With a whoosh of air, it extended into a long spear that gleamed in the light. The Arabian smiled darkly and bent backwards, snapping his body forward and hurling the spear. It took the dark ninja through the throat, tearing the flesh apart and lodging in the space between the axial vertebrae. The spear clattered to the floor as the ninja screamed in agony, arching his back and vanishing.

Drawing his gun, Quatre twirled it idly around his fingers, aiming quickly and firing. The shot took the opponent cleanly through the heart, killing him instantly. Finished with his short duel, he holstered his weapons, picked up the javelin, and strode over to rest by Wufei.

Trowa stared coolly, amused, at the ninjas as they rushed towards him. Drawing back his left wrist, he removed several needles from the bracelet, holding them thoughtfully in his fingers. The needles were poisoned, and could kill within a minute, depending on where they were placed. In this case, speed seemed to be of the essence. One of the ninjas leaped into the air, aiming a foot at Trowa's upturned face. With a flick of the wrist, the five needles rocketed towards the opponent, each embedding itself around the ninja's heart. Blank gray eyes flew open in agonizing pain, and the ninja fell slowly, crumpling to the floor.

Dodging the other assailant easily, he fired three bullets, each piercing a vital organ. One the heart, one the spleen, and the other the stomach. If he missed the heart, the wounds to the stomach and spleen would kill the opponent anyway. The man gurgled softly, gloved hand coming up to touch the cloth, wet with blood, before he, too, vanished.

Duo howled with mad laughter as he leaped nimbly out of the way, slashing the attacker's throat. Dark crimson blood sprayed from the torn arteries, coating the walls and floor. Duo grinned at the dying ninja, flipping his knife in his hand casually. "Never play with Shinigami," he whispered to the man, "For he does not play fair." The blood and the man disappeared, leaving the space empty.

With a bored smirk, he rammed the dagger behind him, tearing it downwards. The man screamed in pain, his hands coming up to try and push his organs back into his body futilely. Duo withdrew the blade and stared at it in disgust, wiping it on the Spandex and sheathing it as he strolled over to wait by the other three.

Heero whirled the katana and crouched, his blue eyes blank and cold as he stared at the onrushing assailants. How.. easy. His lip curled in disdain as he stood up and sheathed the sword. If they weren't going to give him a worthy opponent, then he wasn't going to use any weapons. His fingers curled into claws, the blunt nails no hindrance. One foot lifted, set back on the ground again, and he launched himself forward.

With a swipe of his hand, he tore out the belly of one, feeling the alarmingly real slick slide of holographic blood over his fingers. With the other hand, he hooked his thumb into the hollow of the artery, and tore savagely. Blood sprayed, and the last opponent fell silently to the ground.

With a blank look on his face, he slid over to stand by the rest of the pilots.

The entire massacre (it was too one-sided to call a battle) had taken less than a minute.

"Jesus Christ.." Scott whispered in awe, he and the other students clustered by the windows and staring at the five bored-looking mutants below. Logan and the Professor were conversing in low, worried tones, their expressions grave. Evan growled in frustration and envy, slamming a fist down onto one of the consoles. A low, calm voice said softly,

"Saw Tentacle: Activated. Target: Quatre Winner."

An agonized scream split the silence.

Quatre's back was arched painfully, eyes wide in betrayal, his pale hands clutching the ruthlessly whirring saw that protruded from his shoulder. Red blood flew from the saw blade, flecking the silent bystanders that stood for a moment, staring.

Crimson rage flickered in their eyes.

Golden fur was sprouting like grass from Trowa's skin, washing down his back and shoulders as a rainfall might. The clothes were being absorbed, somehow, into his body- Pain slashed its way down his synapses, the legs, arms, jaw structure reconfiguring, but he didn't feel it-

They hurt Quatre. They hurt him- tea-drinking, gently violent Quatre-

They deserved to die!

A full-throated roar rang from the walls as the massive golden lion with startling emerald eyes left the ground, his claws tearing huge gouges in the ground as he leaped to land atop the tentacle, gleaming white fangs deadly, clawing furiously at the smooth metal, ripping great chunks of metal and wiring.

But the tentacle kept on.

Flame burst into being, white-hot and snarling, consuming the air around itself to fuel the fury. Wufei shook silently, his hands outstretched, lips and teeth pulled back in a savage grin. The fire flew forward, destroying air and oxygen, to surround the metal monstrosity that had dared to hurt one of their master's own. The sizzle of burning metal and cracking wires filled the air, mingling with Quatre's agonized screams and Trowa's feral roars.

But the tentacle didn't stop.

Duo's eyes flew wide open as Quatre's blood flecked his face. Wonderingly, he raised a hand to touch it. Violet eyes darkened-

Wings of shadow spread from his shoulders; insubstantial, seeming to be made of smoke and darkness. A red light gleamed in Duo's eyes as he growled low in his throat. Shadow seemed to engulf the room, crawling together to meld into one whole, a towering column of darkness that waited by Duo, ready for his command. The shadow flew forward and wrapped itself around Quatre, gently pulling him from the tentacle. Red blood was contained inside the bandages of darkness, the Arabian's eyes unfocused and glassy as Duo knelt, beginning to tear strips of cloth and bandage the gaping wound.

But the tentacle did not cease it's howls.

Heero turned his head to stare at the weapon that remained static, the whirring of the saw blade ringing off the metal walls. His face did not change; his eyes did not widen; he showed no reaction to the attack on Quatre. And somehow-

That was the most frightening of all.

Slowly he raised a hand to point at the defilement of technology. Heero blinked for a moment; there seemed to be a white-hot ball of light inside the thing, the glow rapidly ebbing. He turned to the others, seeing that they, too, had these white balls of light inside them, stronger then the ones that were inside the control room above them.

Light, life- His hand curled into a fist and the white light inside the tentacle was gone, destroyed, as if it had never been. The tentacle crashed to the ground with a deafening sound, the 'life-force,' such as it was, extinguished by Heero's power.

The lion padded over to Quatre's pale, blood-spattered form, changing fluidly on its way into the tall, silent European. Heero loped over and knelt, looking up to see Duo, normal once more, busily bandaging the open flesh. Wufei blinked, the flames gone, and sprinted over, still managing to be dignified.

"I've got the bleeding under control," Duo said tersely. "Prognosis is good- it should heal in about a week, less if Heero donates some of his blood." Heero nodded in response, watching Trowa pick Quatre up and cradle him gently against his chest. The five of them left the Danger Room together, refusing to acknowledge the observers.

Logan was the first to break the silence.

"Well, holy shit."