Author's Note: Anyone who can guess the theme of our titles for the first five chapters gets a cookie. XD
Chapter 5 - With gently smiling jaws
Being strapped to the front of a speeding bullet train would probably have been less stressful than the week Lena was having, although the whiplash of moving too quickly and the feeling of helplessness was about the same. It was probably for the best that she couldn't stick around to hear the outline of John's plan. The next day she had her initiation at Paradigm's new laboratory, had to smile through his guided tour and make friends with the rest of the staff, and it would have been much for difficult to do that knowing what the brothers had in mind.
What she hadn't figured on was how quickly they were intending to do it.
"Tonight?" she repeated worriedly, wishing Bends hadn't been caught up back at the University. He might have been able to talk some sense into them, or at least into Clint who was radiating enough boiling frustration to add unstoppable momentum to the others. Instinctively, she kept her voice pitched low for only John to hear. "Shouldn't you wait a little longer?"
"For what?" John asked, looking a little strained but still determined. "If we want to catch him unprepared, we have to start moving as quickly as he is." Seeing her frown, he added, "If it looks like trouble we'll come back, but Paradigm doesn't know that we know about the place, and chances are he won't even be there. At least we'll be getting a look at what we're up against."
"It's still risky," she said. "If you want to check it out, then Bends and I would be a lot less conspicuous-"
"And a lot more at risk," he finished. "If either of you got caught lurking around. then it's over for you. What if he has those other mutants hanging around? You could disappear and it still wouldn't lead back to him. Lena, please." He locked eyes with her. "Don't worry about us. We'll be careful."
They didn't need her acceptance, and the lack of it wouldn't stop them, but John would obviously feel better for having it. She sighed, arms folded over her stomach. "Just come back, alright?"
"After all the trouble we went to fix this place up?" He gave her a toothy grin. "You better believe it."
"And don't let your brothers get out of line," she said with a meaningful look to where the newly titled 'Streex' was preening in front of the mirror they had brought back yesterday.
"I may be forced to admit that black isn't my color," the tiger shark was telling Cooper, admiring the fit of the dark jeans he'd changed in to. "Not that it looks bad, mind you, but it just doesn't compliment the purple very well."
"I think the idea is that we're not supposed to be seen," Cooper offered with the tone of one who was merely humoring such statements of vanity.
Streex didn't seem to be listening. "And the shirt is a total no go. We're not going to fit into anything without some serious tailoring done."
"Better catch up on your needle work then, bro," Clint said, flipping the mirror to quickly check his own look. Clothing was a hit-and-miss business since the mutation had changed their shapes, although from the waist down, it was thankfully less profound. Loosen the belt a bit and most things still fit. "Because I don't think you're going to find anyone who works in mutant sizes."
Streex fought indignantly for his rights to the mirror back, and John looked at Lena solemnly. "It may already be a lost cause."
She sighed expressively. "That doesn't reassure me."
"They'll do fine," John said. "This Meshinda place is supposed to be some kind of open lab. I don't think it'll be too heavily guarded."
"That also means it's less likely you'll find anything useful to use against Paradigm…or anything about your father," she pointed out, and though his expression was hurt it was kinder to be cruel. High expectations led to unpleasant pitfalls when unmet, and though John hadn't specifically mentioned looking for a trace of Doctor Bolton she knew they were all hoping.
"Yeah," he said heavily. "But we have to at least try…"
She nodded slowly. "I know." Half of her wanted to convince them to stay, but the other half had already resigned to just wishing them good luck.
"Besides, if all goes well, no one will even know we were there. It's not like we're intending to blow up the place."
"We're not?" Clint called. "Damn."
"I'm sure Bends could whip us up something if we wanted to," Streex joined in.
"No." John gave them both a hard look. "Let's not give him anything else to use against us, alright?"
They resided with minimal grumbling, and Lena gave John a sideways look. "Maybe it's not a lost cause after all."
"Let's hope not," John said, running a critical eye over his brothers. "But it's been a long time since I've had to baby-sit all three of them."
The steam tunnels didn't take them as far as they needed to go, and since Streex flat out refused the sewers as an option, the brothers were forced to walk the remaining distance feeling very conspicuous and jumping at the noise of every alley cat and distant siren.
"It's still better than the sewers," Streex insisted stubbornly at the halfway point as they took a five-minute break to orient themselves and sooth jangled nerves. "Paradigm wouldn't need any security, he'd just smell us coming."
"If you were talking any louder, he'd probably hear us too," Clint hissed, flinching a little as a car revved loudly down a nearby street.
"I don't see the point of being quiet when there's no one around to hear us, Jab. If you were bothering to use even half your brain you'd have noticed that too."
'Jab' bared his teeth. "Don't call me that."
"Why not? Seriously, what's the point of being fearsome shark monsters is we can't have cool names to match? 'Bobby the Tiger Shark'? How is that supposed to strike fear into the hearts of evil?"
"They're not cool, they're dumb. Why can't you-!?"
Cooper stepped between them, forestalling another round of bickering. The youngest had always been the tallest of them, but now his size was so much more pronounced, and the two didn't dare do more than glare at each other behind their brothers' yellow speckled back. The rest of the journey passed silently and without incident, until they got their first good look at their target.
"Wow," Streex said. "I didn't actually think the place would look like the lair of a mad scientist. Maybe Paradigm's not as clever as we thought."
The building was an old, stonework monstrosity, with tall, iron barred windows and a severe looking fence of iron spikes that clearly warded off visitors. A tarnished plate bearing the name 'Meshinda Institute' was nailed near the gate which, despite sharing the same antiquated look as the rest of the building, had been fitted with a subtle but impressive set of reinforced mechanics. John could even see a keypad inlaid in the crumbling stonework, a suspicious contrast of old and new.
"Wish we had Bends here to pick the lock for us," John mused under his breath. He had a decent grasp of basic electronics, but not the intuitive, almost supernatural empathy Bends had with machines. He wouldn't be able to get past it without significant time, which they didn't have. "Don't really fancy jumping the fence either."
"Can't we just find somewhere to break though it?" Cooper asked.
John limited the self-admonishment to a mental head-smack. He kept forgetting they weren't restricted to just the mundane options. "Right. Let's find a place where they won't notice the hole too quickly."
That part proved more difficult. The building was on the outer edge of a nice district, which meant streetlights at every corner and no convenient dark alleys. John reevaluated their options, scoured the street for a bit of loose stone, and directed Coop to take out one of the lights with it.
"Glad to see you've still got your throwing arm," John approved warmly as the stone flew true on the first try and the light shattered with a pop of electricity and a tinkle of falling glass.
Cooper smiled embarrassedly. "Coach had me working on my aim all season. It used to be my weak point."
"Not any more," Jab observed, tapping his foot as they impatiently counted down five minutes to make sure no one was going to make a fuss over the light. When the coast was clear, they got to work on the fence.
While the metal was malleable enough, the sound it made was terrible – like the screech of nails down chalkboard slate, but ten times as loud. John did his best not to cringe as he stood watch, stretching the shark's awareness of movement as far as he could while keeping his eyes peeled for car lights. The noise was distracting, punctuated with grumbling and swearing, but eventually there was enough space to climb through.
Jab surveyed their handiwork. "You know, this is the third place we've broken into this week. I think it's getting easier."
Streex stared for a moment before breaking out in a short, nervous cackle. "Can you imagine saying that a week ago? Man, have our lives gotten weird or what?"
"It's been a weird week," John said with a crooked grin, but the expression wavered a moment later as he considered the ruined fence. Now or never…but hesitation wasn't really a Bolton trait. Angling his body so that his new fin wouldn't unexpectedly catch on anything, he climbed through.
The inside of the grounds was well kept. The grass smelt wet and luscious, the hedges were carefully trimmed and the white gravel on the driveway seemed oddly luminescent in the moonlight. There was a single car parked alongside the building, and his heightened senses John could smell the tang of its metal chassis, the rubber of the tires, hell, he could probably even make an educated guess on what kind of motor oil it was using. Beneath that there was another scent, even more familiar. Startled, he went to investigate it, trying to catalog it in the new library of scents his memory was keeping.
"Hey bro," Jab called softy. "We're not here to check out the wheels."
"Nice car though," Coop observed, running an appreciative hand over the bonnet. "Don't see many of these in the city."
"We could tip it," Streex said mischievously. "Bet with all four of us we could turn it upside down, quiet as you please. I wonder who owns it?"
"Paradigm."
The three younger brothers stared at their elder. He'd been the only one to come across Paradigm in their new forms, and even though it had been under harrowing circumstances and in a heavy downpour of rain, he was certain. "He's here."
"Madame Mayor," Paradigm purred. "I assure you that at this time there is no possibility of a city-wide epidemic. Frankly put, this area of genetics is extremely delicate. Causing mutation on such a scale would be astronomically improbable."
He listened politely to the voice on the line. The Mayor was doing her best to calm the fears of the public, and for that he would gratefully answer her questions…not necessarily truthfully. After all, there was no benefit in causing a panic among his potential test subjects when a few white lies kept them ignorant and happy.
"I'm afraid that even after receiving the full inventory from your investigators, there are still missing fragments from Bolton's research," he admitted mournfully, with was true enough. Bolton had been willing enough to share his research in the beginning, had even invited Paradigm to suggest improvements until he'd begun to suspect. After that he'd hidden the choicest parts of his research away, forcing Paradigm to improvise with rather spectacular results, if he did say so himself.
"Thank you Mayor." He smiled benignly into the receiver. "It's good to have your trust."
It was good, he thought. Everything his former colleague had possessed, neatly stolen out from under him. His research, his reputation, the respect of their peers, and even his family…of course, that particular plan had gone slightly astray, but it would be corrected soon enough. Paradigm's plans stretched beyond the complete destruction of his former-colleague's life, of course. That was merely a very satisfying by-product, fueled by years of pent up frustration at being outdone by a man who was merely good rather than great. The insult to his intellect had been abhorrent.
The phone rang again. A common enough occurrence since he'd become the city's one and only savior. He let it ring a few times before answering soberly. "Yes?"
The genuine smile affixed to his face certainly shone in his voice. "Ah yes, Miss Mason, I'm glad to hear from you so soon. I take it you've had time to consider my proposal."
Her response was as enthusiastic as he'd hoped. The poor girl…she reminded him a bit of himself. "Why not come tomorrow? I'm sure you'll find the labs are more than adequate for your needs. The address is on the card."
There was a buzz from the intercom on his desk. He gave the device a particularly vile stare, as though it would somehow transmit to the source of the interruption. "I'm sorry Miss Mason, but I've got an important call coming in. Shall we continue this conversation when I see you in person? My pleasure. Goodbye." He hung up and hit the intercom harshly.
"What is it?" he answered, not bothering to keep the irritation out of his voice. The unwitting public was worth the face of his good humor; his Seaviates were not.
"Sorry to interrupt, Doctor," the voice of his creation answered. The drawling hiss was hard to differentiate from the regular buzz of static, but it was clear there wasn't very much regret present. It sounded more like restrained glee. "But we have an intruder sighting on the ground floor monitors. Looks like it could be sharks."
Paradigm paused for a moment, his intellect calculating the odds. "Already?" he murmured, mostly to himself, but at once his good humor returned twice fold. "Well then, by all means activate the outer defenses. I'll be down in a moment."
John hastily interceded and checked for obvious wires on the door before busting the lock with a simple push. Jab had been making dire mutterings about pulling the thing off its hinges, crumpling it like paper, before going on to demolish the rest of the building until Paradigm scurried out of whatever hole he was hiding in. John managed to stall him with the reminder that Paradigm might try to run for it instead, although in truth, he didn't believe that.
He remembered the Doctor facing him down on that rooftop; tall, proud and utterly fearless. It was really the unknown that people were afraid of, and Paradigm knew the four of them right down to their DNA.
John was going to enjoy proving him wrong on that score. Putting the fear back into him was going to be sweet vengeance, and perhaps then, assuming the Doctor still had the use of his vocal cords, he would be more willing to tell them what had happened to their father. The possibility of finally getting some answers had the effect of dangling raw meat above the mouths of hungry wolves, but he had Lena's words and his own caution to remind him that it could just as easily be the bait of a trap.
Little hope of convincing his brothers of that fact though.
"C'mon, which way?" Streex asked him. "Use that magic mojo of yours. There's gotta be something moving in here."
"It's not that easy," John grumbled, doing his best to concentrate but he seemed to be getting mixed signals. Shark instincts didn't usually have to function with the added impediment of walls and floors in the way, and right now the most prominent movement was that of his brothers, and at least one of those signals was moving away. "Hey, get back here!"
Jab did no such thing. The side door they'd used had let them into a kitchen, and while the smells from the fridge had been temporarily fascinating, it simply wasn't enough. The hammerhead stalked through the darkness, forcing his brothers to follow or be left behind, because he wasn't moving slowly, not was he making any effort to hide his presence. He wanted to be found, preferably by that smug, sonovabitch who called himself a geneticist.
The oak-paneled walls looked expensive. He only resisted the urge to start prying up the wood because it would have slowed him down, and there was little chance of finding Paradigm that way. He was following the barest trace of a scent, like the faint musk of expensive cologne, which indicated someone had passed this way in the last few hours. Only when the tight corridors gave way to a foyer did he pause, realizing he was at a crossroads. The trail split in at least three different directions, and he couldn't figure out which was the most recent.
"Hey Jab, if you find Paradigm first, you'll remember to save some of him for the rest of us, right?" Streex asked, catching up.
"No promises," Jab ground out.
The foyer had a wide stairway leading up to the next floor, and at least one of the trails led in that direction. Jab scowled at it, and Streex followed his gaze. "Should we go up?"
"No, down."
Streex raised an eyebrow at John. "We have down as an option?"
"That's where the movement is," John said, seeming a little annoyed, but mostly distracted, trying to stare through the floor. "Looks like we've lost our element of surprise though."
"How?"
John pointed, and the middle siblings took startled notice of the camera in the rafters. Its tiny red light blinked at them admonishingly.
"Damn," Jab muttered softly. "Sorry."
"I don't hear any alarms," Cooper said, glancing around as though he expected them to suddenly come alive at the reminder.
"Maybe no one's manning the cameras," Streex said hopefully.
"Don't count on it. Paradigm probably just doesn't want the police involved." John felt a brief flicker of nervousness that he banished. "Look for some stairs down. Stay close and yell if you see anything."
Streex was still convinced that maybe they were giving Paradigm too much credit. The stairs were tucked away behind a door labeled 'Staff Only', which might as well have read, 'Keep Out: Mad Scientist's Lab Ahead." At the bottom was a door that looked like it was suited to a bank vault.
Cooper glowered. "I'll take care of it."
The door looked like at had been built to keep out creatures such as themselves, or perhaps a small tank if one could have fit down the stairs. John had thought it would take the determination of all four of them, but as Coop wound back his fist, the great white changed his mind. The first strike rang against the metal clear as a bell, leaving a dent that a normal person could have put their head in. Cracks shot out like spider webs along the walls and the floor, and John felt the aftershocks of the impact like a localized earthquake.
He shifted next to Streex, muttering under his breath, "Slammu huh?"
Streex grinned. "Told you the names fit."
They forced smiles at each other but John knew they'd both seen it. For a moment, just a bare second in the shifting gloom, it was like watching something other than their brother. That much concentrated strength was scary. It only took three strikes, and the door folded like soft cheese, along with most of the wall. Brick and concrete, John noted in passing, before very deliberately moving to Slammu's side and gripped his arm reassuringly. "Nice job."
The dark glare faded, to John's relief. Anger never lasted long on the youngest, but whenever it raised its head even slightly, it was ugly. "Thanks."
"Hope you can manage one more," Streex said, stepping over the wreckage. The newly ventilated room was much more modernized than the rest of the house, with every surface plated with a cool, smooth metal, and on the opposite wall was a door equally impressive as the one they'd just ruined.
John moved to follow, but was stuck by a premonition so profound it was like vertigo. He staggered as though the floor had suddenly thrown him…no, wait, not quite, but it was definitely moving. "Bobby wait!"
He'd noticed on his first sweep of the room, but had utterly overlooked the six tiny indented panels in the floor that might just have been imperfections if one missed the fact that they were in equally spaced, identical rows. They rose in synchronous, revealing small turrets, armed with a shiny adornment of barrels that were all pointing in one direction.
John had a moment to notice the rather comical, 'Oh crap!' expression on Streex's face before hell broke loose.
It was all too soon, Paradigm mused distractedly. Although he handled the test tubes a little more brusquely than usual, there was no hint of panic in his demeanor, nor even a trace of disappointment. He had been expecting this, after all, even if by his own studious calculations he should have had at least another day or two. It wasn't hard to figure out where the blame should be placed. The brothers weren't the first Boltons to invade this particular lab, and Robert was the perpetual, unknown factor in his equations. Paradigm really shouldn't have underestimated him a second time, but the way Robert banded his insufferable morality about Paradigm certainly hadn't expected the man to send his sons in like hounds to flush out the game.
How quickly we fall, eh Robert? He thought, preparing a syringe for the pale, green liquid he'd prepared. He hadn't been able to check this particular formula with his usual meticulousness, but one had to be adaptable in the face of a crisis. Even if it failed for perform as expected, he would undoubtedly learn something, and the experiment would still be a success.
Much like the way the brothers had turned out. He hadn't anticipated the delayed reaction of their mutations, and had disposed of their supposed corpses without a second thought. A shame that; things might have turned out quite differently, but even now they were proving themselves to be his most brilliant creations to date. His lab wasn't the easiest place to lay siege to, and with only four people? An astounding effort. He spared a moment to privately congratulate his own genius.
The attack itself was an inconvenience, but a necessary one. It was time for his creations to be called to heel, although without the time to properly prepare, his method was appallingly crude, but this building wasn't made to resist their strength and the defenses would only buy him time, and probably not much of it. With that in mind he set the syringe to auto-inject. He only had one dosage, and probably only one chance, but he still felt confident. It wasn't as though anyone, man or mutant, was really his equal.
If anything, his only oversight was to make the brothers a little too well. He'd been aiming for the perfect blend of human and shark, and had gotten it. Their residual humanity made them smarter and more cunning than his other creatures, but it also made them independent, uncontrollable. Even so, he'd thought they could have been manipulated to serve until he realized that sharks too were self-sufficient and untamable creatures, compounding the original problem. In the short term, his only solution was to introduce a new element – a creature that was more limited, but cold and vicious, the perfect addition to balance out the human's empathy and the shark's independence.
The alarm was still blaring in the background as he stuck the needle in his pocket. Beside the door, his guardians shifted restlessly. The noise and lights upset their small, limited brains. That was the flaw in starting with animal minds instead of human ones, but at least they knew how to obey.
The marlin, Slash, was the smarter of the two, not that it counted for much. He was intently watching one of the tiny screens that linked to the security cameras, an aggravated scowl crossing his scaled face. "The sharks are right outside the lab, Doctor." The fact that he could even manage human speech was yet another chalked up victory for Paradigm, even if his voice was the sibilant hiss of a body being dragged across sand. "Do you want us to go out there and take care of them?"
He wasn't sure whether Slash didn't understand the strategic implications of being outnumbered, or if the marlin was just vengeful and overconfident. It was interesting, in a purely scientific way, to watch the mental development of his creatures. After being beaten by the Boltons the first time, Paradigm had seen the first seed of wounded pride planted in Slash's personality. Intriguing as it was, it hadn't helped the Doctor convince him that the Sharks were not to be harmed beyond reason…either the concept was too complex or Slash was purposefully pretending it was.
His other guardian was far less difficult to interpret. Slobster's name directly reflected his lack of grace, both with his cumbersome pincers and his unsophisticated mindset. His basic instincts were far more pronounced, and about as refined as a chainsaw, but he was still a fearsome creature that Paradigm treated as though he were a loyal guard dog. A very enthusiastic one. "They won't get past us a second time."
"I'm sure," Paradigm agreed grimly. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let them wear themselves out getting through the door. I'd rather not take the chance that your combined incompetence will prevail again." He highly doubted that either of them even knew what 'incompetence' was, but the tone was obviously condescending and Slash grumbled unhappily. "And stick to the plan! If any of the Sharks are killed before I say so I'll unmake you both and use the remains as fish bait. Are we clear?"
Their assent was given reluctantly, but Paradigm was quick to dismiss that minor act of insubordination as he felt the small cylinder in his sleeve. One dosage, one chance. He had already chosen his victim, and he was ready.
"Be honest with me, bro. How bad is it?" It was hard to tell what part of Streex's tone was serious, and which part was just stilted dramatics. Certainly the way he was fidgeting while John looked critically at the burn seemed to indicate he wasn't all that injured.
"I think you'll be fine," John said, wishing he'd though to bring a first aid kit so he could at least put a bandage over the singed mark. He hadn't expected such an impressive defense system. The Doctor was either paranoid, or had somehow known they were coming. He wasn't ready to discount either theory.
"Well no duh. That thing barely scratched me! I just need to know if I should be considering plastic surgery for the scar. Is it going to ruin my dashing good looks?"
"Don't chicks dig scars?" Jab asked with a weak grin, and it was a testament to the scare they'd gotten that he didn't immediately pounce on Streex's vanity. They were all wound a little too tightly, sharing the dangerous reality that maybe they weren't as ready for this as they'd thought.
Nervous tension forced them to joke, or simply fold under the stress. Streex twisted around to get a better look at the injury. "Only if they're cool looking. This one doesn't count. Look at it, it just a blob! And if you tilt your head this way, it kind of looks like Texas. Hey John, what do you think?"
John was staring at the doors that barred the way. The little alarm bell of his motion sense was ringing its heart out, promising fresh, moving prey just ahead. They were so close to answers, and yet- "Maybe we shouldn't do this."
That earned him three stares of indignant shock.
"What?!"
"But bro-"
"Are you kidding?"
"Look, this isn't working out like we thought it would," John spoke over the top of them firmly. "This was supposed to be a stealth mission but it's obvious they know we're here."
"Oh no, no way," Streex pointed at him, looking peeved. "You did not drag us this far for nothing. Have you had a good look at this burn? Like hell we're going empty handed after that."
"What about Dad?" Slammu asked. "What if he's still here? We have to find him!"
"I know, okay?" John shifted restlessly. The shark instincts didn't enjoy standing still, especially not when he was getting hungry again and he could practically smell his next meal just around the corner. "But we shouldn't just go barging in. I don't really wanna see any of us ending back up on a lab table."
"Think about the risks, blah blah, haven't we done this already?" Jab said impatiently. "I'm with Streex," and he shot a glare at his brother, daring him to make a point of the use of that name. "We haven't taken all these scratches and bruises just to turn around when it looks like a rough ride. That's not us. I thought you had that figured, bro."
John rolled his eyes a little. "It's not that easy. Until Dad gets back, I'm sort of in charge-" Streex snorted; he ignored it. "-and if anything happens to you-"
"It won't. Conversation over." Streex gestured with his chin towards the imposing doorway on the far side of the room. "Hey Slam, reckon you can put a dent in that for us?"
Slammu shrugged apologetically at John, but moved to comply. The eldest groaned. Well at least he'd tried, even if they obviously weren't going to listen. Lena's words were still haunting him but there was nothing to do but try and keep them safe as much as possible.
He caught Slammu by the shoulder. "Alright, but if we're doing this then let's be smart about it. How about we start by not using the front door. That's just asking for trouble."
"Well how else are we getting in?" Jab demanded.
John pointed back towards the stairs. "I think they say the advantage is in higher ground."
"But what if we can't find another staircase back down?" Slammu said uncertainly.
John shrugged eloquently. "Who needs stairs?"
That earned him a round of blank looks, followed by understanding smirks.
"And just so we're clear," John said, picking up the remains of one of the gun turrets and hefting it meaningfully. "I get first shot at Paradigm."
He threw the scrap of metal towards the camera in the corner, shattering it beyond use.
"We lost the camera," Slash observed. The screen only displayed unhelpful, monochromatic static, leaving Paradigm without any eyes on the basement landing.
"I can see that." His powerful mind raced, categorizing the possibilities and their likelihood. "No doubt they're trying to find another way in."
Good luck with that, he thought. The main door was really the only feasible entryway - no wait. He frowned in consideration. Would Bolton have told them about that? Better to be sure.
"Slash, go double check the exit Doctor Bolton created when he departed our company. Slobster, wait here while I check the computers. No doubt their entrance will be a noisy one but stay on your guard."
The security systems were further back into the laboratory, behind yet another solidly locked door. He didn't jog, precisely – he still wasn't worried, and it would be unseemly to rush in his own laboratory – but it was definitely a brisk walk. He had to anticipate what Bolton might have told them about the layout of the Institute, its strengths and weaknesses…and the large hole leading towards the East Wing certainly counted. The Brothers had been approaching from the opposite direction so he hadn't thought to remember it, but perhaps it had all been misdirection?
The computers would know for sure. The cameras were out but he still had the motion sensors to fall back on. As long as he could track their movements he wouldn't end up cornered, not that he didn't have another exit prepared just in case. One could never be too careful.
The code to the security room was ten digits long, and changed every other week, but such was the prudence of a cautious mind, and it wasn't as though such trifling memorizations were beyond his ability. The numbered were entered with confidence and the door gave way respectfully.
The interior computer was not one he'd crafted himself. Why bother to waste his time and talents on such a thing, when the simplest solution was just to hack the records of the best security systems' dealer in the city and steal the design of their best model. Already it had called up a map of the building, and Paradigm was instantly reassured. As predicted, the brothers had moved back upstairs, but they weren't heading to the East Wing, just milling around in the foyer. He absently noticed he'd lost the camera there too, but it was a trivial matter. What could they possibly hope to accomplish?
The signal disappeared.
Paradigm stared at it, waiting, but it didn't instantaneously reappear. Several long seconds passed. No living creature could stay still that long, much less four of them all at once. Was the machine broken? Had they somehow managed to short it out? Or-
Oh. Of course.
"Their father's sons indeed," he murmured to himself, finding humor in the situation. The Boltons kept managing to surprise him. That happened rarely enough that he could still appreciate the novelty.
He left the security room and was unsurprised to find the great white waiting for him.
"The first thing I'm going to do after I strip you of your free will," he began pleasantly, "is have fix the hole you just put in my ceiling."
"The first thing I'm going to do after I break your legs," John countered, "is make you tell me where our father is."
Paradigm didn't let himself so much as raise an eyebrow. They hadn't been contacted by Robert? Then how-?
Save the thought for later. John lunged, forcing Paradigm to dance away, reaching unobtrusively for the needle. It was small enough to hide in his palm until the perfect opportunity presented itself, though he'd have to be careful with it. The minor distraction proved to be all John needed for a second swing, one that neatly cleaved a nearby table in two, sending a medley of lab equipment flying.
Paradigm had to give the boy some credit. He'd gotten faster already, acclimatized to being a perfect monster instead of flawed human, but he was still untrained and unpolished. A diamond in the rough, although there was a look of burning savagery in his eyes that Paradigm could approve of. Hate was a powerful tool.
"Don't tell me you're still fighting your brothers' battles," Paradigm said, choosing to parry the mutant's next swing instead of ducking it. The impact wasn't pleasant, but it as time to remind John that he wouldn't be so easily overpowered. The energy-conductive, woven fibers of his power suit increased his strength ten-fold. "Or is this some kind of act of chivalry? Fighting me one on one? It really isn't necessary."
He forced John back a few inches, twisting his arm at an angle that should have broken it, but added flexibility was a perk of his new genetic structure. John yelped, pulling back before any real damage could be done. Paradigm graciously gave him a moment to recover.
If one of the others did show up then, well, there might be a problem, not that he'd let it show. He was certainly confident he could take any one of them. Two? Might be stretching even his skills, although he predicted the younger two would be less troublesome than Clint. He had a taser as a backup, of course, especially calibrated to work against mutants, but it hadn't yet been tested. It might be too strong…or it might not be strong enough. He was pretty confident that his pets would be occupying the others though, if their earlier declarations had been any indication.
Something was burning. The liquids in the beakers from the now broken table had probably leaked into the electrical equipment. Now there would be a mess. He sighed. "Shall we finish this before you do any more damage to my lab?"
"Sounds good to me!"
He hadn't quite expected John to pick up the closest half of the table and use it as a club. Oh, well, he had, but as the measure of possibilities went it hadn't been high on his list, and John had moved with unexpected swiftness. Another miscalculation, but an invigorating one. Did this mean the brothers had the potential to be even faster than he'd calculated? He had the genius equivalent of hours to wonder about it as he was thrown back into the wall.
His armor absorbed most of the shock, although was definitely dented around the ribcage, impeding his breathing somewhat. He made a mental note to add that to the list of things he would improve once this crisis was over, but the more immediate problem of the needle remained. One dosage, once chance, and he really didn't want to wait until next time. His scientific progress would not be halted!
Paradigm climbed to his knees, searching with his good eye in the hope that the delicate tool hadn't been shattered in his fall, and as his arms scrabbled across the floor he felt the pinch on his right palm again, the barest sensation of cold, sharp pain, and when he spared a glance-
-The needle was sticking into his own hand.
It protruded innocuously, in defiance of any sense of logic, but the slender needle had pierced through one of the minute cracks in his armor. Where John's mutant strength had only managed a few inconvenient dents, a more delicate and accurate assault had won a victory twice as devastating. Paradigm could only stare. The syringe was empty, the auto-injector had performed flawlessly, and he had stayed frozen too long, because the next jolt of awareness came back as he collided with the wall, pinned by the monstrous hand around his throat that was barely restrained from asphyxiating the life out him.
"Alright Paradigm," John said, his face looming in the doctor's vision, all jagged teeth and cold, dark eyes. "It's time for you to give me some answers, and I'd better like what I hear."
His throat was squeezed, but Paradigm only afforded the creature a sneer. Did he really think such rough intimidation tactics would work on a man of Paradigm's genius? John couldn't kill him – he had the same, cumbersome morality as his father, the one that had lead Robert to confront him in private rather than just take what he knew to the police straight away. No, he wouldn't dare to cross the lines that Paradigm had, and thus his threats meant nothing.
He opened his mouth to explain exactly how futile this situation was, but his jaw didn't seem to want to obey him. Was it a side effect of the fall? Perhaps the limited oxygen that was barely reaching his abused lungs? Or…
His hand burned where the needle was still embedded, and he belatedly realized that it wasn't his jaw that wouldn't open, but rather his teeth had already grown to fill the gap, stretching beyond reason until he could feel it dislocating and the muscles of his face threatened to tear.
He caught a glimpse of John's horror-struck face – momentarily gratifying – but then the fire in his veins was spreading to the area he's primarily intended it to target, the brain, and he realized that no act of genius could save him from this.
John hadn't realized how utterly bizarre and nauseating the mutation process was. He hadn't been there to see his brothers change, nor had he gotten a very good look at his own like Bends had, and suddenly he was grateful. Paradigm's transformation was going to haunt him for a long time.
It was like watching the crude machinations of a child with wet clay. The lower half of his face morphed gruesomely to accommodate a row of fangs that were as long as nails. His lips rolled backwards until his nose and his chin disappeared somewhere in the stretching, and his mouth was pulled wide until it threatened to split his face in two. The worst was the noise. If the transformation was as painful as it looked, Paradigm would have been screaming, and it certainly sounded as though he was trying but with the horrific distortion of his face he could only manage a high, wheezing sound as he clawed madly at his throat.
John wasn't quite sure at what point he'd let Paradigm go. He tried to decide if he should move closer to try and help the man or not, but instinct cemented him in place. There was just no way he wanted to be anywhere near that, even if it was a matter of life and death.
For a minute, John was sure that it was going to be the latter, but finally the convulsions faded and the wheezing quieten down into heavy panting intermixed with whimpers, and he dared to look again. Paradigm's gums had bled with the violent eruption of his teeth. Blood and saliva dripped from his mangled mouth, which was now contorted into a permanent, repulsive grimace as his lips could no longer cover the glistening ivory fangs.
John spared one moment to be profoundly grateful that the needle he's seen as the cause of this horror hadn't gone into his own arm.
He hedged forward slightly, moving with the caution reserved for cataclysm survivors. "Doctor Paradigm?"
The man hadn't moved, frozen in shock perhaps, but slowly his single eye focused on John. The pupil had expanded until his eye was a single, soulless pit of blackness that communicated nothing but madness. John had the unruffled calm of the shark's predatory instincts to back him up, but even he couldn't resist taking a healthy step backwards. "Holy sh-"
Paradigm struck.
The man had been fast before, now he was insane, and apparently not holding back. John couldn't see anything like recognition in the doctor's eyes as he attacked managing to knock John off his feet and landing on top of him, clawing like a rabid dog. John wasn't in a good position to push him off, and damn that armor must have been heavy because he could barely keep the doctor back. The disfigured mouth was opened wide, emitting a high pitched screech, and he was getting closer and closer to being able to bite at John's neck-
-until a second pair of hands joined with his own and yanked the man off.
"What the hell?" Jab swore, pulling his brother his feet. "Where did that come from?"
John hissed weakly, feeling assorted aches surfacing with the immediate danger out of the way, reminding him that it hadn't been that long ago that he'd jumped from the top of a building into a dump truck. "It's-"
The being formerly known as Doctor Luther Paradigm straightened stiffly, like a wooden marionette, and he seemed to present the object in his hand with the same kind of absurd drama as a puppet play. There wasn't anything funny about the contents of that beaker though, and for the first time there was a glimmer of intelligence in his eye. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Move!" John tried to drag his brother, but it wasn't easy to hurry a mutant when they didn't want to be, and Jab was still staring at Paradigm, transfixed with no small amount of disgust.
"But what about-?"
"Forget it!"
The beaker arced gracefully through the air, and not a drop was spilled until it smashed against the ground, and the tamely burning flames John had started earlier burst into renewed life. The air filled with acrid smoke that burned their eyes and gills, and the flames quickly spread outward, searching for more to consume. Paradigm was already invisible behind the curtain of flames, but John imagined that he could still hear a high-pitched, maniacal laugh.
"Hey, where's all this smoke coming from?" Streex asked as the eldest two rounded the corner back into the main part of the lab. "You know, I think Slam took care of that Lobster if we wanna stop and barbecue it."
"No time," John said. "We better get out of here before the fire department shows up."
Streex blinked. "Good point. Which way?"
Good question. Getting back through that hole in the ceiling wouldn't be easy, and the main door to the lab was probably still sealed. Breaking it down would be time consuming, and the smoke was getting thicker. He remembered reading that it was often smoke that killed people long before the fire ever reached them.
"I thought I saw a weak wall down that way," Slammu pointed. "I think we can get through there pretty easy."
It lead further away from the fire, to where the air was a bit cleaner. John decided to risk it. "Show me."
It was, oddly enough, a very recently repaired hole in the wall, large enough to fit them all easily once its shoddy repairs were out of the way. John tore through them like wet paper, and wondering what had put it there in the first place. One of Paradigm's other creatures maybe.
He could see stairs back to the ground floor just beyond them, but he paused on the threshold, glancing at Streex. "You got it, right?"
The tiger shark showed off the miniature computer drive. "Losing faith in me, Ripster? I got his whole system copied, right here."
Ripster smiled. "Good."
Any clues Paradigm had on his computers would be on that disk, and the good Doctor was now a victim of his own gene-slamming formula gone wrong, perhaps even having been consumed by the flames he'd released himself. If that wasn't ironic justice, he didn't know what was.
Gabrielle's wardrobe that consisted of clothing that could survive the end of the world, and looked like it already had, with shapeless sweaters and jeans that weren't so much fashionably ripped as just ripped…but she had one nice dress and today she wore it, nervously checking and rechecking her purse. She panicked over losing track of the card six times before she finally decided to just keep a hold of it, turning it over in her hands so many times that it probably lost some of its sheen before the taxi arrived wordlessly at the destination and took her money rudely. She realized the reason for his abruptness only after she climbed out; the street was swarming with police cars, all flashing their lights, and gawkers were being shooed away without much heat.
Nothing to do with me, she thought, trying to hold her head high as she checked the address on the card one last time just in case her memory decided to trick her and ruin this chance. She checked the street numbers, looked at the building…rubbed her eyes, and looked again, but the sight didn't change. It was a ruin, but a recent one if the presence of so many people was any indication. She stared for an untold time, her eyes growing increasingly wider, and when they were finally stretched to the limit, her senses called attention to her hearing instead.
"-no, I was on the top floor last night. I didn't notice anything happening until the floor began to shake." The voice was familiar. The officers looked right past her as she slipped between their cars, just like everyone else, though on this occasion it was actually useful.
Among the sea of people pulled too early from their beds, or those who just stared uselessly at the destruction, only one man stood tall and alert, calmly giving his statement to the police as though he wasn't holding a bloodstained cloth to his face. "Doctor Paradigm?" her voice quavered a little, but he didn't look annoyed at her interruption, only surprised.
"Miss Mason? Ah, I'm afraid you must forgive me. As you can see, this morning has been a little…unfortunate."
A brave understatement of fact. "What happened?"
The officer taking the Doctor's statement looked pained. "Ma'am, I'll have to ask you to step back please-"
"No, please, it's fine," Paradigm interceded quickly. "Miss Mason was a prospective student of mine. Still is, I hope?" She nodded frantically, and he seemed to relax a little. "As you can see, the Institute has been the target of a regrettable act of terrorism by the Bolton family. Specifically Robert's sons, I believe, although I have only the tape of my security cameras to go by. I didn't see a thing myself."
It seemed like the officer was trying to will the Doctor into staying silent, but he could hardly say so. Gabriel felt a stab of dislike for the man, trying to suppress information just for the sake of doing so, as if she was some brainless twit that would blather it to all the news stations. The doctor held no such misconstructions. He offered her a wry smile. "My worst luck was having some plaster come down on my head when the building collapsed. Hardly a heroic tale."
She thought it was. "Are you alright?"
"I certainly will be," he pronounced stoutly. "But sadly the building will not. The supports under ground have been destabilized. The whole place would have to be torn down and rebuilt, and that would require a serious contractor and time I simply do not have."
Her mind raced. Her specialty was machine engineering, but one could hardly claim to know that subject without being aware of its related fields. The same theories applied to both civil and architectural engineering, though she'd never designed anything on that scale before but she could learn. She would learn, anything that would be of use to him. "I could help you fix it!"
She probably sounded like a stupid little girl, trying to fix a broken dream, but his smile was soft and his eye seemed warm. "My dear, I believe you could…but I'm sure I can find a far more suitable outlet for talents such as yours."