"I can see that we're never going to see eye to eye on this matter." Xerek took his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together vigorously.

"If yo-you mean that you're never going to convince me that you were justified in helping fund the human experiments of a genocidal tyrant, you're completely right." Helen was shaking violently, but from the rage or the cold, she couldn't tell.

"Quite so," Xerek said, refusing to respond. He thrust his hands back into his pockets. "But then, your stubbornness was always your most attractive feature."

"Stop it."

"Well—" he cocked his head, thinking — "one of your most attractive —"

"That's enough!" If she could have stretched, she would have punched him. She may have to deal with Xerek against her will, but she didn't have to tolerate his comments.

"As you wish," he said easily, as if he'd been doing her a favor with his remarks. Then he clapped his hands together in a jovial manner. "But as long as you're here, we might as well make the most of it." He walked toward her and extended one hand. "I wouldn't want you to get the idea that I'm inhospitable, so if you would join me, Helen..."

The last thing Helen wanted to go was go anywhere with him, but as she was still shivering uncontrollably, she needed to get out of the freezer. She was unnaturally stiff as she got her legs under her, but she was not going to give Xerek her hand. He stood there, unmoving as she pushed herself to her feet, the freezing, rubbery exoskeleton firm against her limbs but still able to move with her.

Helen brushed passed Xerek and out the door, welcoming the warmth of room temperature. As far as she could tell, they were still in the same room they had apparated into. Hard, smooth concrete for the floors and walls, clinical metal tables with bright hanging lights — it was a lab of some kind, but given its emptiness, it was obvious that it hadn't been utilized for a long while. Empty, that was, except for the sturdy wooden table that clearly didn't belong, and its deep red tablecloth, bowls of food, and places set for two.

Xerek walked around her and moved to the closest chair. He pulled it out and gestured to the seat.

"Join me."

"Do I have a choice?"

He smirked, a grin that was not malicious, but still spoke of the power he held. Helen had learned long ago that he meant it. "What do you think?"

She pursed her lips and walked to the table. She sat gingerly on the edge of the seat, and Xerek pushed the chair in before moving to the other side.

Helen took note of the food in front of her and tried to ignore her rumbling stomach. There was a tossed salad and a fruit bowl filled with apples in the center, a plate of fresh bread and a chicken dish in a sauce that was meant to be served over rice.

"What can I get for you?" Xerek said, as if they were out on the town, and she looked away, focusing on a crack in the grey concrete wall.

"I'm not hungry."

She might have to sit here, but he was nuts if he thought that she was going to pretend that this was a date, much less ingest food and drink prepared by him. Not after what happened the last time.

"Still," he said. "You need to eat."

Xerek motioned toward the fruit bowl, and looking back, Helen caught sight of a nearly indistinguishable wave that rippled through the air. It hit the apple sitting on top of the rest of the fruit, and it fell toward her, rolling between her plate and her wine glass before she let it drop to the ground.

"Gravity wells," Xerek said, clearly pleased with his display.

"Well, that's appropriate." Helen muttered. And before she could convince herself that it was smarter to keep her mouth shut she said, "You always did repulse people. Now you can just do it on purpose."

She caught a flash of something in Xerek's eyes: dangerous, unpredictable, and then it dissipated, replaced with a cool smile.

"Did your daughter inherit your wit?" he asked, sipping on his wine.

More than you know, Helen thought, but she fell silent, unwilling to give him anything more than he already knew.

Xerek shrugged. "No matter. I'm a patient man; I'll find out sooner rather than later."

Helen resisted the urge to shudder, but chalked it up to the still freezing exoskeleton that was nullifying her powers. The last thing that she wanted to do was talk about her daughter, but she still needed to know what he was intending.

She took a deep breath and exhaled fully before asking, "Why don't you go get her?"

Xerek looked up. He seemed surprised that she had furthered the conversation herself.

"Metroville isn't exactly in the neighborhood," he said. He began cutting up the chicken on his plate.

"That didn't stop you before," Helen said. "I know you can teleport."

"And as your little cage demonstrates, powers often come with limitations," he said, chewing around his food.

"You can't do it again?"

He paused while he swallowed. "Let's just say that for jumps of that magnitude, I have to save it until I really need it."

Helen eyes narrowed. Never had she heard of a Super who had such limitations when using their powers. Powers could be draining, energy wise, but to only be able to use the power once before that ability was depleted was strange.

But before she could ask about it, there was a knock on the door of the lab.

Xerek sat up, as if in anticipation, and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Fortunately," he said, standing, "that's not the plan."

A short man in an oversized lab jacket entered. "Sir, it's ready."

"You're sure?"

"Positive." He handed a small box to Xerek. "Though we didn't anticipate having the program ready this quickly, all that was needed was the proper incentive."

Xerek smirked. "Isn't that always the case?"

The scientist shuffled out of the room, the door echoing as it slammed shut.

Xerek still stood. He took the cover off of the box and pulled out a small, rectangular item. Xerek fingered it appreciatively, and Helen's insides clenched in apprehension.

"What is that?"

"A remote."

"For what?"

"There's a repurposed fighter plane on the roof," he said, examining the buttons on his device. "It's fast, stealthy, maneuverable. You used to fly them during the war, I believe."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He looked up, his pale eyes directed right at her. "You will go and find our daughter and bring her here."

He was insane.

"What on earth would compel me to do that?"

"Dearest Helen, I think you'll find yourself compelled quite easily." He flipped a switch on the side of the remote and a red light flashed brightly. "Do you remember the computer chips I created to cure blindness?"

"What does tha—" Helen paled, and her hand moved to the back of her head. To the cut directly above the occipital lobe.

"No."

Xerek smiled.

"Fascinating woman, that Ms. Deavor," he said, fiddling with a dial on the remote. "Her study into hypnotism has advanced the field by decades."

"Xerek ... don't! Please!"

"She made one fatal mistake though."

Helen stood up, knocking her chair over in her instinctual attempt to escape. Her gaze whipped wildly around the room, futilely searching for a way to escape what was going to happen.

Xerek pointed the remote at her as if she was a television screen.

"She shouldn't have created goggles that were so easily removed."

"No!" she yelled.

Her face screwed up as she clenched her eyes shut, but it would be no defense.

Violet.

He pressed the button, and Helen froze in place.