Author's Notes: Weekend! And K is now the least of their worries...Yea. Thanks, TheOnyxDragon12 and AsgardianGrizzly for the reviews! :D
Disclaimer: Ultimate Spider-Man is not mine. Nor are any of its characters. That's Marvel's job. Any Original Characters and art you note, however, are all me. No. I'm not making money. Don't rub it in.

Chapter 19 - Ghost

Peter flashed a sheepish smile as he passed Fury and entered the Tricarrier's debriefing room. It may not have been convincing, but that hadn't been the intent. The Director knew it was coming. That's why he scowled so deeply. And eyed the hero's back like a stalking predator as he flipped into a seat between an unmasked White Tiger and sunglasses-free Power Man. White Tiger shared a weary look with him then brought her brown eyes to Zeelan, who sat across from them. Peter followed suit.

"Uh, hey, Zeelan," he said a bit awkwardly with a small wave. "Don't talk to you much these days. Uh…about Kevin…"

"Oh, don't go walking on eggshells," the mutant drawled, her Midwestern accent low with exhaustion. Peter had never heard it so clearly before and blinked when she muttered something further while slumping deeper in her seat.

"If that's the case, then I'm sorry about your brother," the hero added.

Zeelan sighed then turned his way. "Oh? What sense does that make then? He threatened your friend like Papa's Thanksgiving turkey."

"Uh, true. But…I can still be sorry."

"Come on, Z," Power Man interjected as Peter frowned. "Being bitter won't help anyone. Right?"

"We aren't here for apologies or pep talks," said Fury in trademark seriousness. Joy kill. Peter watched as the black-clad Director stalked towards the holographic computers, activated a few screens, and addressed the whole group with a pointed stare from his calculating, dark eye.

"No, we're here about this Ghost character, right?" asked Power Man.

The SHIELD leader nodded. "And before anyone mentions it, Miss Weir is here to ensure she doesn't try anything stupid."

"You should give her more credit than that, Sir. She'll stay for Danny."

"Uh-huh." Fury disregarded the crossness of Power Man, activating a file that opened over the table with pristine detail. "Moving on. This is the character you saw, correct?"

"Yeah," answered Peter, sore.

That smug grin and angular face. Those beady black eyes. His dirty facial scruff and shaggy brunette hair. All of it cried criminal—no doubt about it. Yet it was a surprise to see how high Ghost ranked on SHIELD's Most Wanted list. Wait. There was a class type for this criminal? What made him so special?

"Hannigan's on your list?" The 'A's in Zeelan's question rose in uncertainty, accentuating her dialect.

"Do you know him, Zeelan?" asked White Tiger.

The mutant didn't draw her wide eyes from the criminal's photo as she said, "Uff da…He went to school with us. Came from out of state. He had a knack for playing girls and swindling good people out of their money. He was lower than a snake's belly."

"He had the charm of one, too," Peter noted, glancing at Fury.

Fury caught his gaze a moment then redirected it towards Zeelan. "Did you know he was a mutant, Weir?"

She replied by shrugging her shoulders. "Haven't for long. K told me in passing. Before that, he disappeared from Enderlin without a trace because of his bust at school."

"What kind of bust?" questioned Power Man.

"Blackmails, illegal deals, cheating, hired muscle—thug things."

"Those hardly seem like SHIELD-worthy offences," noted White Tiger as she lifted a claw then squeezed it into a fist. Her impatient glare felt menacing, and Peter assumed she was experiencing flashbacks from their fight. Ghost had hit on her, shamed her, and then knocked her out within a matter of moments. Short moments.

Fury must have read this anger since he immediately returned to the file. "Sven Alroy Hannigan—AKA Ghost—is twenty-three with a criminal record dating back to childhood. He's since exceeded petty crimes and is now wanted for numerous accounts of assassinations and kidnappings. He's a notable gun for hire."

"So, he's a mercenary? Like Deadpool?"

The Director shot Peter a look, and the hero ducked his head.

"Who's Deadpool then?" Zeelan asked Fury.

Peter couldn't help answering, "He's a guy that used to train with SHIELD before going rouge. We believe he's the one that set you up in Illinois."

"Wait…" Zeelan's light brows furrowed. "So you do have an idea of who it was then?"

"Spider-Man."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Peter smiled wearily at Fury. "Yes?"

"We're talking about Ghost. Keep on task."

Begrudgingly, the lithe teen rested his head in his hand under Fury's stare.

"Now"—the Director started—"Ghost has interfered with SHIELD before, which is how we know he's a powerful Astral Projector and Psychic Blocker."

"So he can do what Z can?" Power Man inquired while sparing the white-haired mutant a glance.

"More," Fury answered. He kinda sounded bummed about it. Or maybe that was mistake by Peter's ears.

"How much more?" Power Man followed up.

Fury replied by saying, "Mastery of his mutation aside, he can turn his astral form into a physical persona that can grow or contract to any size or shape he wishes. It's how he got his name. He's been known to form armor with it, though sometimes he fights at a distance and is never seen on the battle field."

"We fought with his green-glowing self," injected Peter. "It hits about as hard as Juggernaut. Even with the new 'man power' presents from you."

"His 'green-glowing self' is a Psionic Projection," remarked Fury, bland.

"So? He was still glowing green. Like a Hulk dipped in lightning bugs. Or a barrel of radioactive—"

"Did he give you a reason for being in the city?"

Peter hesitated before nodding at his boss' glare. "This is where I apply my superior deductive reasoning skills and—" He paused when he swore Fury would pop a blood vessel—it throbbed like a squirming worm above his good eye. Well, best not push luck this time. "He said he found it hard to believe that we were the ones keeping the 'others' from finding the 'mice'. Who else do we know that's on a hunt in New York?"

"Excuse me, Fury, Sir?" Coulson's voice cut through the room, gaining all attention as the middle-aged agent approached Fury, papers in hand. "Sorry to interrupt, but we identified Ghost's current employer."

Power Man's brows raise a fraction. "Already?"

"We've got a few tricks for tracking him down by now. Besides, he left a messy trail trying to capture a girl—an Alice Espello—in Montana."

"He…took Alice?" Zeelan paled in her seat, staring at Coulson with pained eyes.

"I take it you already know the name on this report, Miss Weir," Fury noted evenly.

"I—if he's working for the same employers as the Trackers then…yes."

Hold the phone. Stop the press. Just, wait. Peter stared wide-eyed at Zeelan's downcast expression then pointed a finger that clearly voiced his surprise—like this tone—as he loudly exclaimed,

"You mean to say, you knew who hired The Trackers this whole time?"

"Oh, you never once asked about it," the mutant countered in a low, accented tone. The hero met her side-glance with a grimace, but said nothing. She was right…

"Since you seem to be so full of knowledge and wit, Miss Weir, why don't you enlighten the whole class on the situation?" Well, Fury clearly didn't like being left in the dark. But when did he ever? He waited impatiently with his arms crossed for Zeelan to grace him with acknowledgement—which she did, just…in passing. With a flick of her wavy, white hair.

"Her name is Jessica Collier," she started, "owner of a genetics research company called Collier Labs. She set up a satellite lab in Enderlin five years ago."

"That doesn't sounds like a wise business plan," White Tiger remarked incredulously.

"Indeed it wasn't," Coulson added. "And her board of directors agreed, apparently. But according to this report, she did likewise in three other states—Texas, California, and Maine."

"Did she pick small towns in them like Enderlin?"

The agent shook his head at the heroine. "Two are major cities and the other is semi-large. Kidnapping rates rose in every place her lab set-up base in, though. It's almost as if she was testing something."

"Oh, trust me, she was," Zeelan noted in a tone darkened by reminiscence. "When she approached our mayor, she proposed the building of her lab as a means to create factory jobs and thus improve the economy of our town."

"I thought they were labs, not factories," Peter interjected, brow arched.

"I can't speak for the others, but the one in Enderlin focused on agriculture and its effects on people. Collier would hire farmers for her gardens in shifts, so each family could make extra income each month. But…that was a ploy."

"And your town didn't find a genetics company dabbling in agriculture as abnormal?" White Tiger asked, meeting Zeelan's frown with her own.

"Typical city kids," grumbled the semi-tan mutant, "don't understand."

"Enderlin was verging on financial desperation," added Fury.

Zeelan sighed heavily then said, "She took advantage of that. She was looking for mutants. And to get them, she sparked the uprising."

"How?" Peter asked softly. He could understand how much pain this topic brought, and thought he braced himself for the amount of misery Zeelan's dark eyes mirrored. He hadn't.

"Oh, patience. And a specialized gas that filled the city like a dense fog. The first wave…brought out the worse paranoia in people—humans. That started the violence. The second forced animal mutants to transform against their will…I—I lost track of many people I knew by that point. And…I don't mind a lot of it being a blur, honestly."

"Collier was praised for her company's handling of the uprising," Coulson noted, straight-faced.

"Yeah, 'quick to act and very resourceful'. Isn't that what the news said then?"

The pale agent nodded to Zeelan. "All those kidnappings and murders in the past six months…I'll bet Collier headed those as well."

"I almost forgot about those," said Peter under his breath. Scratch that. He did forget.

"The supposed 'workers on scene' were mutants she had already captured," Zeelan continued with less emphasis in her Midwestern speech. "Don't ask me why they follow her. Maybe it's money. But The Trackers were the ones in the uprising that picked out mutants one-by-one. Th—the kids in my group were ones Kevin helped saved before we fled. He…he faced Hannigan. Lost. But he didn't bother with my brother after their fight…"

Power Man rested an arm on the table and leaned forward. "Why not? I thought that was the point of her efforts?"

"Oh, Collier has a type," the mutant answered, sharp.

"The second gas only affected animal mutants," noted Coulson.

Zeelan sent him a long, steady stare. "They were the only ones picked out. Honestly, K and I aren't wanted by The Trackers—not like them."

"Well"—Peter paused—"what would happen if they found your group and not everyone fit the criteria?"

"You're asking about Nova…and K," Z answered grimly. "Well…Let's pray it doesn't come to that because…they know too much. They'll be killed…"

Heavy. There could be no other way to describe Zeelan's heart. It had bogged her down ever since her meeting with Fury, Coulson, and the others a few hours earlier. By the time they had adjourned, their words fell on deaf ears, and now the mutant couldn't recall how it ended. Not that she tried hard, mind you. She didn't want to think about the last words that sunk in. Unfortunately, they couldn't be avoided; they were her own…

They'll be killed…

"Miss Weir," an unfamiliar voice addressed.

Zeelan blinked out of her thoughts, remembering who sat across from her on a cool, steel floor. "Oh, sorry, Doctor"—she paused—"Strange. My mind's been slipping a lot recently."

"We can't have that, Miss Weir," Strange countered while leaning forward in his Lotus position. The expression behind his long bangs was a mix of emotions Zeelan couldn't decipher. It only made him look odder.

"I know," she added with a light sigh.

"Danny has been under the Swilla Iku poison for six days now. He is strong; however, he is not immune."

"How long does the poison usually take to kill someone?"

"Were he an average human, he would be dead already."

Zeelan didn't care for the frank response. It was truth, which she preferred, but…it made her want to puke. She felt her heart race in her chest as she swallowed a hard lump in her throat and sat straighter. Strange waited for her to regain her voice.

"H—how much longer do you think he has then?"

"That is hard to determine," the sorcerer answered, even. "It could be twelve days, it could be one. It all depends on how strong he keeps his mind."

Slowly, Z's gaze drew from her lap to Strange's face. "Is there a way to strengthen his mind then?"

"That is a very difficult thing to manage, Miss Weir."

"I know, but Danny once told me about a flower called the Yu Shi flower."

The name seemed to strike a chord with the man, as recognition lit his eyes. "Ah, yes. A resilient flower that grows in the frigid temperatures of K'un-Lun."

"Could we use that?"

"Not unless you desire arrest."

"But—"

"It would be a waste of effort. The Yu Shi flower must be delicately prepared and few in K'un-Lun are capable of such. The harvest season ended months ago. The trip would be far too long. And that is not including the hassle of possibly gaining clearance into the land."

"I—is it really such a hard thing entering Danny's homeland?" Z asked, voice as heavy as her sinking stomach.

Strange nodded then didactically said, "Our best bet is to do our work here. So you will need to practice projecting. As often as you can until it becomes second nature. You must be confident in it when we extract Danny's mind from the poison. Otherwise, you will fall victim as well."

"How does that even work?" Z questioned with an instinctual accentuation of her vowels. "I've projected maybe twice before—both when I was sleeping. I thought it was a dream."

"Most often do. You must realize that is not the case. You must relax your spirit, rest your mind, and imagine leaving your body. Imagine, entering the Astral Plane."

Easier said than done. Z frowned when Strange closed his eyes, his breath deep. She could have sworn he had fallen asleep if she weren't certain of how serious he took, well, everything. She tried to follow suit. But her mind just wouldn't shut up. It reminded her how silly she must have looked, how illogical it was to think she could leave her body behind like shedding a skin.

She hated it for that. She needed to do this. She needed to believe this. For Danny. It didn't matter how silly the task or how ridiculous she felt—that all needed to be pushed aside for once. For Danny.

'He deserves that much…'

"Ah, see? The act is natural to those of psychic and mystical abilities. Even if they are not aware of it."

Zeelan blinked. She hadn't remembered standing. And the Strange ahead of her held a small glow around his form, as well as—wait, could she see the wall behind him? She could.

"No need for surprise," the man stated—his voice faintly tinted by amusement. "You are transparent in looks as well. No one can see us on this plane, the Astral Plane. Physics play little role as well, so we can fly and pass through matter. Now, come, I wish to show you something."

Zeelan did as commanded. Really, even if she wanted to fight him, she couldn't. Her mind reeled at the Astral Plane. Everything had a new feel to it, though, visually, it looked the same. She hesitated before following Strange through the wall of their meditation room and she flinched as she entered the room beyond. It didn't hurt like she had thought it would. She didn't even feel a pressure—like there wasn't a wall there at all.

A glimpse of Strange's cloak brought the mutant's attention upward. She realized the next step was flying. Great. Was she supposed to…jump? Think happy thoughts? What? Her dark eyes concentrated on the spot the cloak had passed through. It grew bigger and bigger until it loomed ahead. Then, Zeelan glanced at the new distance between her and the floor and—in mild panic that she would fall—she began flailing her arms as if treading water.

She released a little squeak when strong fingers wrapped around her bicep, pulling her through the ceiling. She quickly planted her feet on the new floor then glanced at her side with a questioning stare.

"We both inhabit the Astral Plane," Strange said, a slightly amused look on his face. He then turned and left the room.

Zeelan followed him down a familiar route. She knew where he was going and it felt like no time passed when they entered the Medical Ward. They warily approached the blonde resting in bed. Though, before Zeelan ventured too far, Strange halted, resting a hand on her tense shoulder.

"I come here as a spectator," he said. "I am merely a safety net. This is your first lesson. I want you to reach Danny's consciousness."

Z felt her mouth go slack. "But…I thought you said—"

"I will handle the poison. You practice reaching him. Understand?"

"…Yes. How do I do that?"

"Do as you would with any other person: call out to him."

With a little nod, the mutant left Strange's hand. Her body closed the distance between her and Danny's bed. At his pale, sweaty face—framed by matted blonde hair—her stomach tightened. Her determination wavered with his uneasy breath, but she shook her head free of doubt when she was reminded that he needed her to believe.

"Danny?" she asked softly.

A prickling tug from an unseen source felt uncomfortable. And it worsened when she called his name a second time. The poison must be fighting to keep Danny away, so Z closed her eyes and focused harder. She didn't call him out loud again. She called him from within her mind, which flooded with memories of their past talks. Again and again, each time growing more definite.

She felt something in Danny—like a small sun within a cold void. Would Strange call that a Chi signature? The term sounded familiar, so she focused on that warmth, imagining it was drawing closer the longer she asked for Danny. A flash of light blinded her mind when the sun came just out of her reach. When the image refocused, she stood in front of Danny. Only, he stared blankly at her, as if she weren't there.

"D—Danny?" she questioned in an eagerness that accentuated her 'A' more than normal. She smiled at him—aching to touch his arm—yet his dead, green eyes kept her stationary with their unnatural state. "Danny…?"

"Who are you?" he questioned, voice low and hoarse.

"Oh, I, uh, I'm Zeelan. Zeelan Weir…remember?" She flashed a sorrowful grin and stepped forward. "North Dakotan. Mutant. SHIELD prisoner. You've been helping me. You…Oh, Danny."

"Why are you here?" The blonde's voice raised a fraction. Did he actually sound annoyed that she had come?

The mutant frowned. "I came here so you know we're saving you."

"Who asked you to save me?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm fine here…" The image of Danny began to flicker, fade. Zeelan reached for it, but passed right through. And he glared at her for it.

"Oh, please, Danny," she said in mild desperation, "You have to remember. We had a lot of good talks. And you would always insist I need to believe. Well, I am now. You did it; you converted me, okay? So just—remember so you can rub it in or something."

"Get out."

"Danny—"

"I said get out!"

Zeelan gasped as a sudden force hit her entire body. Before she knew it, her eyes shot open, and in the gasping seconds afterwards, she realized she was back in her body. The tingling of adrenaline felt foreign through her shaky limbs. She didn't often do things that involved such endorphins and she still felt a sense of severe vertigo when she regained her breath.

"Did you see him?" Doctor Strange questioned without so much as a twitch.

"Y—yes," Z answered breathlessly.

"And what was it like?"

The mutant glanced at her clenched fists that rested on her folded legs. "It was like…seeing a ghost."

Author's Note: Touchdown and . . . Danny don't wanna see her face. Poor Z. Ya'll should have fun with the next chapter, though. Don't forget to review!