"You ready for a job?"

She stares at me but her eyes are blank. There's no tension in her face; no change in her scent; not even a hint of body language to tell me that she heard the words.

"What'd you say?" she asks, finally squinting her eyes just a little. What was that? Distrust? No, guardedness. Maybe just disbelief.

"You said you're not just a kid anymore," I answer. "Well, there're affairs that need straighten'n out, and seein' as they're your affairs, I figure you got a right to straighten 'em out yourrself, now yer grown up an' all. You ready for a job?"

"Hell yes."

I drop on the bed, facin' her square. Make sure she knows I mean business. "Before we go tryin' to get ourselves killed, though, I need you to level with me."

Then she stiffens. "About what?"

"How strong are yer powers?"

She thinks a long time before sayin' anything. "Well, I don't exactly know. I was only a kid when I lived at the X-Mansion so I didn't get any proper genetics education or training or anything. And since I was so young, my memory of everyone else's powers is pretty poor. Watching you over the years hasn't been much help, because your mutation is all based on your physical being—you know, enhanced senses and healing and all that. Those are pretty much the exact opposite of my psychic abilities, so it's hard to measure myself next to you." Her gaze shifts off and she's lost in herself for a bit. "I think I'm very powerful…maybe one of the most powerful mutants that we know. From what I understand, you're like, crazy strong, right?"

I nod. "I'll never beat Rogue in a weight-lifting match or anythin', but I can pick a two ton car up over my head when needed."

"Well the weight that I can lift with my TK is somewhere between your max and Rogue's, then." She pauses, and her hands are fiddling nervous-like. "I think I can lift, like, six or seven cars."

"Shit, Red, why didn't you just waste all those goons back at the house?"

"I was scared." Her eyes grow cold on me all of a sudden. "But this time, I'll be prepared. Whatever we need to do, I'm down for it."

How long have you been that strong? How do you know you can lift six cars? Have you been practicing behind my back? Will you really be as ready as you think when the time comes? I sigh and toss aside the ten thousand questions streaming through my head. "Well, that's pretty much what I was afraid of. The bottom line is this: yer too strong. Morph sold you out to Sinister. Now it's only a matter of time before Sinister goes blabbing to The Hellfire Club or tryin' to get the old Brotherhood members to hunt ya down, and then yer name's all over town. We need to kill you. And fast."

"Kill me? Hmm. How do we do that?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. "It's a one-stop-shop for getting the word out. If S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database says yer dead, everyone will hear it, and take it as truth."

Twenty minutes behind, alarms soundin' every goddamned place, and a full-scale lock-down on all exits. Fuck, this mission's goin' to hell. To make things worse, hacking's really not my thing. Rachel's pacin' by the door, guardin' the way if any S.H.I.E.L.D. agents come bustin' through, while I'm doin' my best to fix the records on my…hm…on her.

"Can't you speed this up at all?" she barks at me.

"Believe it or not, hackin' the most intelligence-based database of the highest-security military headquarters in the world ain't exactly child's play."

She grumbles to herself.

The virus I stole from Morph busted through the firewall easy 'nough, and then it was just a matter of installin' the re-write software that looks exactly like the original program to the hard drive. But actually findin' the damn file was the problem. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system is DOS-based, very un-user-friendly, probably on purpose, and I've heard tryin' to sort through the code is a talent very few programmers can master. But I finally find the file and enter the fake date, time & location of her death. For good measure, I paste in my four-paragraph report by an Agent M. Lizer on finding the remains and re-investigating the Summers murders in the desert all those years ago, with no new results. If anyone ever looked up the report, it'd only take a few minutes of reading and a call to Agent Lizer to figure out that it was forged. But it's extremely unlikely that anyone will pick up Rachel's file again. She was six years old when she disappeared, she'd never had any reports of interest before the Summers murder case, which involved a lot of other, higher-profile mutants, whose files would be of far more interest than her own, should the case suddenly re-surface.

I yank the flash drive out of the CPU and turn back to Rachel. "Are you ready to go yet?"

She jerks her head toward the door. "We've got a dozen agents waiting outside for us. It's a narrow hallway. It'll be just like Sinister's goons all over again. Put I can put up a shield this time."

Then several things happen all at once. I hear a footstep behind me. The sound sends chills up my spine, makin' my ears prick and my nostrils flare. I breathe in deep and catch the scent. The attacker's a male, black, 'bout six feet tall, muscular build, sweatin' from the stress, with that mercury hatred rollin' off him in waves. How the fuck did I not smell him coming? Too damned focused on a stupid computer, that's how. I turn on my heel to face him. I'm mid-crouch by the time I get turned 'round but his gun's already raised and next second, I hear the unmistakable bang. Just as I feel the bite in my shoulder, a silent wind rushes past me toward him.

I fall, grabbin' my left arm and glance back at Rachel. She ain't hit. Relief washes over me. Then I see her face; she looks like she's seen a ghost or something. I look back at the agent. He lies face-down on the cold linoleum, a dark puddle of blood swellin' around his form. I get up and stagger over to her.

"You okay, kid?"

She snaps out of her reverie. "Fine. Stop looking at me like that!" Then softer, "Are you gonna be able to get out of here with that?" pointin' at my bullet wound.

"'Course, who do ya think yer talkin' to?" I fix her with a confident smirk. She doesn't respond; her eyes are still…I dunno…off. I clear my throat. "Well, if he came from over yonder, means there's an exit thata way. Come on."

We follow the agent's scent to an escape hatch, which opens to the wide open air. Even though I've done it a few times, it's still jarrin' to stand out there, on the edge of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s flying base, lookin' down at the clouds, and knowin' there's over a thousand feet between you and the ground. I'm not scared; I know from experience I can survive that drop. But my body pushes against the wall, my instincts on fire. Rachel, on the other hand, looks almost bored. I take her hand.

"The jet's on the other side of the base, over 800 feet away. Looks like we're just gonna have to jump. You got that shield ready?"

Through all the red hair whippin' 'round her face, I see her fix me with a hard stare and nod. I take her hand. She doesn't squeeze back. I step off the ledge, pullin' her with me.

I've always loved the feel of a free-fall. Most of the time, when I get to do it, I don't have a parachute with me, so the end of the fall means a helluva lot of hurtin' and, if I'm droppin' more than twenty or thirty feet, there's always a long-ass recovery after that. But god, the feel of the wind lashin' at my face, the roar of force on every side of my body, the bizarre up-ward push of turbulence against my stomach, it's one of the best high's in the world.

We plummet through the wet clouds, our clothes slightly damp. When we're 'about 200 feet off the ground, I turn to her. "Time for your shield!" I yell to her.

She turns her face to me but says nothing. I've never experienced a free-fall with a TK shield 'round me, so I don't know what it's supposed to feel like. But I do know our hair is still trashin' all over our faces and necks. I'm guessing if TK stops bullets and missiles, then it should stop wind, too.

"Rachel!" I scream. "The shield!" She turns back to look at the ground comin' up fast on us. "Rachel!"

I tighten my grip on her hand and pull her to me, using my body as a shield for hers. But I know the force of the fall alone is enough to collapse her lungs. She curls into my chest, nuzzling, like we're snugglin' in bed or somethin'. I hug her tight with my good arm and try shouting into her ear. "Come on, Rachel! I need you with me, Red! Come on, please!"

Now the valley floor's only fifty feet away. I brace for the impact, prayin' to I don't fucking know who to somehow save this girl's life.