THE CASE OF THE THINKING MACHINES

"Kiss my ass, Tony!" I snarled. I wasn't shouting - yet. However, that was probably just a matter of time.

Marie was standing near the office window and was looking out of it at the street below as she tried to hide a smile. Sooraya, who was sitting at her desk, actually winced. Sooraya is a traditional Afghani girl and she really wants me to be more of a lady. It's a losing battle on her part, but I love her for trying.

Little Hassim, sleeping in his crib next to Sooraya's desk, didn't even stir. I suppose he's used to me by now.

Tony Stark gave me one of his more persuasive smiles, "Dom... please... just listen to me."

"We don't do industrial spying!" I declared flatly.

That didn't always used to be true, by the way. Then I eventually realized just how thin the line was between that kind of work and just plain theft. When a PI is asked to do industrial work, they're often after something that's far more valuable than mere money - they're after ideas. After a couple of cases that didn't sit quite right with me, I put out the word that I was no longer interested in that kind of work. One of the first guys I told was Tony Stark.

And now here Tony was, standing in front of me, bold as brass and shiny as a new penny, asking me to jump into bed with him.

That charming, arrogant, handsome, son-of-a-bitch.

"This time you might be saving lives," Tony added quickly.

That made me hesitate. Marie walked over, put her hands on my shoulders, and gently squeezed. That roughly translates as, 'calm down and hear the man out'.

I subsided back into my chair and made a 'go on' gesture in Tony's general direction.

"My people have noticed something odd," Tony continued after giving Marie a grateful look. "There are small shipments of unusual equipment and hardware coming into town. Things like non-standard electrical parts, rare and high-performance vacuum tubes, exotic alloys, and miniaturized servos and hydraulic systems. All of it is very high quality and pretty damn expensive. And most of it is being shipped to companies and organizations that don't exist. Someone rents an office, puts up a sign, receives the shipment, and then vanishes."

I raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like those bastards at AIM."

"AIM said they'd stay out of the city," Marie pointed out quietly. "They've got a deal with Logan and Erik. If they're breaking it, there's gonna be a war."

I nodded in agreement. I didn't want a war, but I also didn't want to see AIM back in town.

By now, Tony was staring off into nowhere. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he considered the problem. There are those who call Tony Stark the greatest inventive genius since Edison. The only man living that's even close to him is Nikola Tesla. Whatever it is that goes on in Tony's head, it's something the rest of us really can't understand.

"If you give me a list of components, I can usually see what can be done with them," Tony added distractedly. "But this time... this time I keep coming up with solutions that worry me."

"Tony, if somebody is building some kind of weapon, that's not against the law," I countered reasonably. "Hell, you do that yourself."

Tony nodded. "I won't argue with that, but I think whatever's going on here is just plain scary."

Then Tony looked me in the eye and - damn him - I saw genuine worry. Tony tries hard to hide it under a mask of high-living, expensive booze, loose women, and a constant stream of wise-assery, but deep down inside he's one of the good guys.

"Dom, put everything else you're doing on hold and look into this for me," he said. "I'll triple your normal fee."

I got off the phone. I'd just passed two minor cases off to another PI. I owed Maria Hill a few favors and this was a good way to pay her back.

Marie was curled up in the office easy chair, comparing a hand-written list that Tony had given us to a phone and business directory.

"Tony's right," Marie announced. "Most of these parts are being shipped to outfits that don't seem to really exist. The exceptions are some packages that went to the University."

"Sooraya, check and see if any of those companies are actually real and doing business somewhere else," I ordered. "Maybe they're from out of town."

Sooraya nodded.

I looked at Marie. "You and I are going to school."

Marie gave me a crooked smile. "I just hope there won't be a test. Book learning was never my strong suit."

Actually, Marie and I both know more than a few people at State University.

"Any reason you can see that we should have a talk with Jean?" I asked Marie as we parked at the University. Jean Grey is a student there. She's also a pretty powerful psychic and the drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend of a lady named Emma Frost. Emma is one of the richest women in the world, in addition to having the morals of an alley cat.

Marie smiled. "Jean's not a scientist or engineer. She's studying education and psychology."

That made sense. "How about Betty and Doc Banner?" I added.

Marie stirred uneasily. "Actually, talking to Bruce makes sense. And I wish it didn't."

A while back, Bruce and Betty were right smack in the middle of one of our weirder and more dangerous cases. As a matter of fact, Betty was our client and Bruce was the missing person she hired us to find. We eventually found Bruce. And we also found out that both he and Betty were a lot more than they appeared - as well as slowly dying of some kind of poisoning. Scientific research isn't as safe and peaceful of a pursuit as you might think.

Bottom line: Bruce Banner may be nothing much to look at, but if you piss him off he's one of the scariest guys you'll ever meet.

"Betty's something like six or seven months along, isn't she?" I asked.

Marie nodded sadly. Betty Ross was pregnant, but it was a race to see if the baby would arrive before the mother died.

"None of this has anything to do with my work," Bruce Banner said right after we gave him a copy of Tony's list. The shipments to the University were circled in red.

Bruce didn't look good. He'd lost weight and there were dark rings around his eyes. A slightly languid manner to his speech and body language made me suspect that he was still using morphine. That last part wasn't completely Banner's fault - an evil bastard named Samuel Sterns deliberately made him an addict as a means of controlling him. But at the moment, Banner had a long array of problems that pushed the need to kick his drug habit way down the list of things that really mattered.

"Bruce, do you have any idea who might be using this stuff?" Marie asked.

With the air of a man doing a tremendous favor for this lessers, Banner gave the list another look.

"The vacuum tubes are very specialized," he said finally. "Off hand, I didn't know it was possible to manufacture tubes to these specifications. The only researcher on campus who might make use of something like that is Pym. Dr. Henry Pym."

Dr. Pym's lab was on the outskirts of the campus, butting right up against the edge of a rather undesirable and semi-abandoned part of town that's called Piedmont. Piedmont is an old industrial district. It was built in the middle nineteenth century, and then crippled by the modernization of industry in the early part of this century. The Depression finished it off.

The cops spend a lot of time making sure that the few poor people who haunt what's left of Piedmont understand that they're to leave the University alone. A lot of heads get busted in the process.

It occurred to me that if Pym had a lab on this part of campus, he wasn't too popular with the administration.

Pym wasn't in his laboratory, but his girlfriend was. She answered the door when I knocked.

The woman at the door was gorgeous. I swear, this town is full of hotties - it's enough to make a plain-Jane like me give up on mirrors. She was a few years younger than Marie and I, more than a little below average height, and had short black hair, blue eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a perky smile. She was wearing a long yellow and black dress that somehow managed to look casual, despite that fact it had obviously been made for her.

I'm not much on clothes, so when I notice how another woman is dressed you know she's wearing something fantastic.

"Janet Van Dyne?" Marie gasped. She seemed completely surprise.

Miss Van Dyne put a professionally polite look on her face. It's the kind of expression famous people use when they run into a fan.

Marie obviously knew this woman. I didn't have the slightest clue who she was.

"Hello," I began carefully. "My name is Domino. This is my associate, Marie. We're private investigators and we'd like to talk to Dr. Pym..."

"I love your work!" Marie interrupted excitedly.

Miss Van Dyne looked us over. I could read the expression on her face. Marie's store-bought dress, slightly worn high heels, and simple jewelry were barely passable. My pants, shirt, jacket, and brogans were not.

"Hank isn't here right now," she said politely. 'Hank' was apparently Dr. Pym.

"I saw some of your designs at the Hilton fashion show last month!" Marie enthused. "They were great!"

Okay, I finally got it. Janet Van Dyne was a fashion designer. And Marie definitely knew her work. Marie is one of those people who likes expensive things, but hardly ever actually buys them. Even when she has the money.

"Will he be back soon?" I asked hurriedly, trying to keep the investigation on track.

"I don't..." Miss Van Dyne began hesitantly.

"You're the best designer in town!" Marie added eagerly.

A slight smile appeared on Miss Van Dyne's face. "Come on inside," she said.

As we entered, Marie gave me a wink. I had to hide a grin.

My clever, clever, girl.

I didn't know what to make of Dr. Pym's lab. It had a lot less glassware, mysterious equipment, and strange lights than Dr. Banner's lab. In fact, it mostly reminded me of a better-than-average-quality electrical shop. It smelled of electricity, insulation, and hot metal. Parts and tools were scattered over an array of benches and work-tables.

And, yeah, there were racks and racks of vacuum tubes. The walls were lined with them - all carefully installed into long lines of ceramic sockets.

"What's a 'computer'?" I asked Miss Van Dyne - or Janet as she wanted us to call her. She was enthusiastically giving us the cook's tour of the lab as she tried to explain what her boyfriend was doing. A lot of what she was saying was going over my head.

Marie gave me a look. "It's a job where somebody does calculations and computations. All the big companies employ people as computers. Banks, accounting firms, and insurance companies use a lot of them."

That rang a bell. "Yeah, I guess I've heard of that. It sounds kind of dull. Don't you just spend your day working a calculating machine?"

Marie shrugged, "Yeah, but it's how some people feed their families."

Janet was smiling at us. As she spent more and more time around us, she was unbending.

"Hank wants to build an automatic computing machine that's faster and more accurate than a calculator," Janet said.

"Sounds like a good way to put a lot of people out of work," I said - just before realizing that I might be shooting my mouth off. I had to get along with Janet, not piss her off.

Janet nodded. "Hank and I have talked about that. He says that there are always new jobs that focus around changes in technology."

I nodded. That was true, but it was also true that during the gap between the old jobs and the new jobs, a lot of people found themselves in trouble. And some never made the shift. The slums were filled with folks like that.

"Why, hello," Dr. Henry Pym said as he walked into his lab. He was obviously surprised to see us.

At first glance, you could definitely see what Janet saw in Henry Pym.

He was tall, blond, fit, and ruggedly handsome - which was quite the contrast to Bruce Banner, who was the only other big-brain scientist type that I knew.

But his eyes bothered me. They had a lot of Banner in them: a suggestion that if something was useful and could be done, then it should be done and all other considerations be damned.

Janet gave Pym a peck on the check and cuddled up next to him. Pym put an arm around her, his left hand ending up rather low on her hip considering that they were around a pair of strangers. However, Janet didn't seem to mind and it was clearly none of my business.

I stuck out my hand. Still obviously wary of me and Marie, Pym shook it.

"Dr. Pym, my name is Domino and this is my partner Marie," I introduced us politely. "We're private investigators and are wondering if we might have a moment of your time."

Before Pym could respond, Marie handed him Tony's list. He took it automatically. Curiosity was obviously a major trait of his personality.

"This is a list of rather advanced parts and components," he said slowly. "Some of them - the ones circled in red - were ordered by me for a project that I'm currently working on. Where did you get this?"

"Some of these parts may have gone missing in transit," I said. That wasn't exactly a lie. And I let Pym fill in the blanks in what I had said. Assumptions are sometimes an investigator's best friend.

Pym shrugged as he continued to examine the list. "I received everything I ordered."

I nodded. "That's good to hear, Dr. Pym."

Pym was still looking at the list. He suddenly frowned.

"Do you know who ordered these other parts?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I can't discuss that, Dr. Pym," I said carefully. "Is something wrong?"

Pym's cold blue eyes met mine. "No, but some of these parts are... interesting."

I didn't say anything, letting the silence drag out a little. I was hoping that Pym would say something useful. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and handed the list back to me.

"Janet says you're working on an advanced calculating machine," Marie said suddenly, trying to keep the conversation alive.

Pym glanced at Marie as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes casually roamed up and down her body, pausing at her face, breasts, and hips. Okay, Marie's a looker and that's not an uncommon reaction. Hell, I'm pretty sure I did the same thing the first time I met her - and I still thought I was 100% straight in those days. But it still bothered me. The casually superior way Pym was looking at Marie reminded me of the way he was touching Janet.

A smile quirked across Pym's face. "ULTRON is more than just a calculating machine."

I think I blinked in surprise. "ULTRON?" I asked.

"The name of my project," Pym explained.

Janet smiled brightly at us. "Hank says that ULTRON will change the world!"

Marie and I waited until we were out of the building before comparing notes.

"He knows something," I said as we walked across the big open park-like commons that was the center of the University.

"Yep," Marie agreed. "Now what?"

"We keep an eye on Pym and see if he leads us somewhere," I said.

"We can't exactly tail him," Marie said. "He knows us now."

"We can hire a stringer," I suggested thoughtfully. We sometimes do that.

Marie's face brightened. "We know someone who spends a lot of time on campus. And she has some special talents."

I frowned. "Jean? Her girlfriend is one of the richest people on Earth. She doesn't exactly need a job."

"Jean's an independent gal," Marie pointed out. "Don't you suppose she'd like to have some money of her own?"

I shrugged. "Let's see what she has to say."

We found Jean in the lady's hall of the student center. It's a 'no men allowed' place where students of the female persuasion can study, talk, or just goof-off without having to worry about those guys who don't seem to know when to back off.

"Dr. Henry Pym," Jean repeated slowly. She said it like she didn't particularly like the man in question.

Marie raised an eyebrow at Jean's tone. "Did you have a run-in with him?"

Jean shook her head. "No. Pym likes to look, but he's pretty correct otherwise. He and his fashion-designer lady-friend seem to be really tight, and from what I hear he doesn't wander. Believe me, there are a few professors here who think they're quite the lady-killers. Sometimes they're all over you. Pym isn't quite like that."

"Not quite?" I said, emphasizing the last word.

Jean stirred uneasily, obviously not sure what to say. The three of us were sitting in a cluster of easy chairs that faced a big bay window. It faced firmly away from Piedmont and gave us a pretty decent view of downtown.

"I've never been in Pym's mind," Jean said carefully. "I do try to respect people's privacy. But there's something about him that doesn't seem right."

Marie and I exchanged a glance. "I think I know what you're talking about," Marie said. "There's a strange feel to him. I'd never turn my back on him."

I found myself nodding in agreement. Then I stopped myself. "Look, do you know anything about Pym that's more definite? Has he ever actually done anything wrong that you know about?"

Jean smiled - which was like the sun breaking through clouds. "Well... he's got a reputation as a tough grader. Getting an 'A' in one of his classes is apparently quite an achievement."

"A definite sign of incipient evil," I said dryly.

"It is if you're a college student," Jean pointed out with a laugh.

"Okay, so maybe Pym's nothing more than a cold fish who likes to check out your rack," Marie said, "but the bottom line is that he comes across as hinky, is connected to our case, and we need somebody to keep an eye on him. So how about it, Jeannie? We pay five bucks a day."

An interested look came over Jean's face. Then she hesitated.

"I'm not going to read minds for you," she said flatly, looking at me as she spoke. "Back when I helped Marie find you, I was pretty free with my powers because lives were at stake. Otherwise, I try not to use them too often."

I held up a hand. "We understand and we're not asking you to do that. We need someone who's a regular on campus to become Pym's shadow. It's not an all-day thing. Just check up on him every few hours. See what he's doing and who he's talking to. Maybe you could ask a few low-key questions and see what the other students know about him."

"Okay, you've got a deal," Jean said decisively, "but what are you going to be doing while I'm pinning a tail on Professor Pym?"

I grimaced. "We'll be checking out all of the other locations on that list. It's going to be a long grind."

And that was pretty much how it went. Marie and I spent the rest of the day driving from location-to-location, checking out the empty offices that had been the delivery points for the items on Tony's list. We talked to locals and neighbors, hoping to find something to work with.

We got almost nothing. The story was the same everywhere we went. A pair of faceless nobodies would set up shop for a day or two, pretending to be a new business. They would keep to themselves, politely brush off any questions, and then vanish.

On the other hand, we had a set of consistent descriptions.

"Two men," Marie summarized. She was checking our notes as we drove back to the office. "One a tall and skinny blond, and a medium-sized guy with a strong build, dark hair, and pock marks on one side of his face. Both were dressed in off-the-rack business suits. The tall, skinny guy wears glasses, does most of the talking, and has a New England accent."

"It's not much, but at least it's something," I suggested.

Marie nodded. "I'll check with the cops tomorrow morning. Maybe that description will ring a bell with someone."

When we're asking the cops for help, that's a sure sign we're at a dead end.

The lights were on at the office. It was nine p.m. when we got there, but Sooraya was still at her desk. Sometimes she just doesn't know when to quit.

Josh Foley was also present. He's Hassim's father, but he's not Sooraya's husband. It's a long story.

Josh and Sooraya were using chopsticks to pick at takeout containers of Chinese food. Sooraya had her blouse unbuttoned and Hassim was feeding from her with a great deal more enthusiasm. Josh nodded at us expressionlessly. I don't think he has a problem with Marie and I, but we first met him at a really bad time in his life. I think we remind him of things he'd much rather forget.

Marie dropped our notes on Sooraya's desk. It was Sooraya's job to organize, type, and file them. Then Marie petted the mop of startlingly thick black hair that was on top of Hassim's head.

"Greedy guts," she chided Hassim softly. He didn't reply.

"You have no idea," Sooraya responded, obviously exasperated.

"He's gonna grow up to be a big one," I said.

"Let's just hope he doesn't end up like Fred Dukes," Marie said as she collapsed onto the couch.

A slightly disapproving look appeared on Sooraya's face as she handed me a note. "Miss Grey left a message for you," she said.

I glanced at the note and immediately saw what was bothering Sooraya. She'd survived the Egyptian, she'd adjusted to having a pair of lesbians for bosses, but there were some things about this world she'd found herself in that she would never approve of.

The note said: "Call me. We might have to talk to Emma."

Despite the hour, Jean picked up the phone on the second ring.

"Hi," she said softly. I could tell already that something was bothering her.

"What's up, Jean?" I asked. "And why do we have to talk to Emma?"

She paused for a moment before answering. "I said you might have to talk to Emma. It's your call. She may know something useful about Pym."

I frowned. I couldn't really imagine Emma and Pym running in the same circles. On the other hand, Emma might very well know Janet. Was that the connection?

"How does Emma know Henry Pym?" I asked skeptically.

Jean took a deep breath before answering. "Dr. Pym is a member of the Hellfire Club. Somebody from the club - a flunky - showed up at his office to deliver a message and I recognized him. When I got home, I asked Emma if she knew Dr. Pym. It turns out she does."

I left everyone else at the office and headed over to Emma's apartment. Marie had her doubts, but she eventually grudgingly relented and let me go. Things between Emma and Marie are far better than they used to be, but hostilities still haven't completely ceased. They probably never will.

The doorman at Emma's apartment building recognized me - I've been in and out of Emma's place a few times. And Emma must have told him that I was on the way. As soon as he saw me, he wordlessly waved me towards the elevators.

Up in the penthouse, Emma answered the door. She was dressed all in white (no surprise), but had on a long evening gown and a white-mink shoulder wrap. She was obviously dressed for a night on the town. And yet she was just as obviously waiting for me.

"Hello, Dom," Emma purred at me. Jean was standing in the background, dressed like she planned to spend the night studying. She and I exchanged a glance. Jean had a wryly rueful expression on her face. It's tough to keep secrets from Emma, so I didn't hold it against Jean that Emma knew something was up.

"I am on my way to the Hellfire Club. As I understand it, Dr. Pym will be there. Would you care to join me?" Emma asked.

I should have turned around and walked away just as soon as I heard the triumph in Emma's voice.

"Does Jean know about the Hellfire club?" I asked.

We were in the back of Emma's Rolls Royce, heading downtown. I didn't recognized the chauffeur. They tend to come and go. Off-hand, I don't think I've ever been in Emma's Rolls and the same person was driving as before.

"Yes," Emma said serenely as she handed me a glass of champagne that probably cost a small fortune. I gave it an appreciative sip. I'm not much on ridiculously over-priced luxury, but if someone else is paying for it...

"How could she not?" Emma continued. "She knows me better than anyone else in the world. Jean is more tough-minded than you give her credit for, Dom."

I raised an eyebrow. "Does she know that the Inner Circle of Hellfire Club were the people who kidnapped her and Doc Xavier?"

I first met Emma when she walked into my office and told me a pack of lies about a missing Charles Xavier. Then she hired me to find and save her "old friend of the family". I eventually found a very un-missing Charles Xavier training a new and powerful psychic - Jean Grey. At which point the Inner Circle mercenaries I'd unwittingly led right to Charles and Jean opened up on us with chemical mortars.

At the time, Emma was a member of the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club. They believed some crazy prophecy that a powerful psychic would someday become a world-destroying entity. They called it the Phoenix. For some reason or other, they thought Jean might be the person who would bring the Phoenix to our world.

Yeah, it sounds crazy, but Emma believes it to this day. She once told me she was shacking up with Jean for the sole purpose of keeping an eye on her. I suppose the hot sex with one of the most beautiful women I've ever met is just a fringe benefit.

"As a matter of fact, Jean is quite aware of that," Emma said steadily.

I locked eyes with Emma. It's tough to force Emma to talk when she doesn't want to, but it can be done.

"I've been as honest with Jean as I can be," Emma said after a long pause and another sip from her glass.

"Still worried about the Phoenix?" I asked, doing my best to keep any trace of mockery out of my voice. That Emma - of all people - could believe in that kind of horseshit is amazing to me.

Emma gave me a hard look. "I am very worried about the Phoenix. I will be until the day I die."

I let it drop. It was too much like arguing about religion.

"So how does Dr. Henry Pym fit into the Hellfire Club?" I asked.

Emma shrugged. "Like many of us, Dr. Pym inherited his membership. However, he was never a member of the Inner Circle. As near as I can tell, he attends our functions for the fun of it and nothing else. To be frank, his family no longer has the money and influence required to be considered a part of the club's elite. And that might be a mistake on the part of our more powerful players - the man is a genius."

"What do you know about him?"

"As I said, he comes from old money, although the family has fallen on relatively hard times. His parents are deceased and he has no brothers or sisters. He has multiple degrees from some of the finest schools in the country. His specialty is exotic biophysics, but he has a penchant for engineering. He's a bit socially awkward - a common problem among high intellects - but has friends and has managed to secure the very desirable Janet Van Dyne as a companion. He is currently teaching at State University and is working on a project that involves simulating the structure of the human brain in electrical form."

"That's... pretty good," I said slowly. "In fact, very good. How do you happen to know so much about him?"

"Dom - the Hellfire Club is a pool of sharks," Emma said with a cold smile. "If you want to swim in it, you should be prepared."

A thought occurred to me. "What do you know about Janet?"

This time, Emma seemed to pause before answering. "She comes from an old family with a trifling amount of money and influence - never enough to become a part of the Hellfire Club, of course. Her father is a judge and her mother is involved in some kind of charitable work. She has become a fashion designer of some note. I own some of her work, but it really isn't daring enough for my tastes. In her younger days, she was a bit of a player among the wilder elements her college social group. She met Dr. Pym about two years ago."

I sighed. "What does Janet see in him? I mean... he's handsome enough, but there's something about him that seems... I dunno, kind of cold and closed-off? He just doesn't seem like Janet's type."

Dam stared at me for a second, a tiny and knowing smile on her lips. "Perhaps you will find out tonight."

The Rolls pulled into the grounds of the Hellfire Club's mansion. The city had long-since developed completely around the property, but the club has never budged or sold off any of its land. The mansion's grounds consisted of dozens of acres of meticulously maintained park-like woods, surrounded by a high wall of thick stone that was topped with sharp iron spikes.

Rich people doing rich things doesn't intimidate me, but when I looked out of Emma's limousine I suddenly got nervous. There were dozens of cars parked in front of the mansion and Emma's Rolls Royce didn't stand out. A scatter of people - late arrivals like us - were walking towards the mansion. The younger folk had the sleek, handsome, and well-groomed appearance of the children of the very rich and very powerful. The older people were at least carrying some wrinkles and a few extra pounds, but even then they moved with a sureness the defied their age.

Maybe those kind of people really are better than the rest of us. God knows, they certainly think so.

It was how they were dressed that threw me. Some were dressed like Emma, in the height of modern fashion. Others were wearing clothes that harkened back to the eighteenth century. A few were wearing full body cloaks. All of them were wearing ball masks - the kind that obscures your upper face and is held on with adhesive.

I was dressed for work in a gray suit and a pair of worn-down, but quite comfortable, leather shoes. Even my tie was less than decorative. And it had a blood stain on it that I couldn't quite seem to get completely washed out. To say the least, I'd stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

"No way I'm fitting in with this crowd," I told Emma sourly. That wasn't a fashion-concern on my part. I just prefer to blend in when I'm on the prowl for information. People shut up around someone who doesn't seem to be a part of the pack.

Emma was peering into a hand mirror as she examined the mask she had just put on.

"Actually, you have an outfit that's quite suitable," Emma said distractedly as she made a minute adjustment to her mask.

I just shook my head as I looked out the window.

At the door to the mansion, two flunkies dressed like royal footmen were holding the door for an elderly couple and two cloaked figures. I recognized the man. He owned one of the bigger east-coast railroads.

Then the two hooded figures took off their cloaks. They were two very pretty girls - one black and one white. And they were naked except for their masks and matching high heels.

The footmen took the elderly couple's coats, and the girls' cloaks, and then handed them off to a maid who was standing just inside the door. Meanwhile, the older couple locked collars and leashes around the girls' necks. The woman smiled at the one she was handling and gave her kiss on the lips and a firm slap on the ass.

I was still staring when Emma handed me a mask and a pair of high heels.

"These are a pair of Jean's that are a bit too big for her," she said calmly. "I think they'll fit you."

I glared at Emma.

"You are out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to do this," I snarled at her.

So there I was, stark naked except for a stupid mask and Jean's shoes. And Emma had a collar around my neck and my leash in her hand. She was enjoying herself entirely too much.

The footmen didn't even seem to notice me, although they did fawn all over Emma. I guess this was just another day at the office to them. Or maybe they were gay.

"How long have you been planning this?" I whispered as we got past the footmen and into the mansion.

"Since almost the first second I met you," Emma said with an air of vast satisfaction.

"This isn't going to work," I repeated for maybe the tenth time.

Emma sighed. "Really, Dom, you're becoming tiresome. All you have to do is keep silent and watch. Actually, your station here doesn't really give you many other options. This is going to be some of the easiest investigative work you've ever done. And who knows what useful secrets you might learn tonight? Some might prove valuable even after your current case is finished."

Once we got past the foyer, we entered the cavernous main hall. It had been fitted out for a party and was filled with dozens of people. About half of them - male and female both - were naked and on the end of a leash. Up on the balcony that overlooked the hall, a band was playing some soft and slow jazz. A hazy cloud of tobacco and marijuana smoke drifted above the crowd. In the middle of the room, couples in various stages of dress and undress clung to each other on a dance floor.

Curtained alcoves flanked the room. As we passed one of them, I heard the sounds of some very enthusiastic screwing, complete with a young man's voice loudly moaning about the wonderful hugeness his lover's dick.

Emma smiled thinly and shook her head. "I know who that is. And, trust me, the member in question is of no more than average size."

Then she gave me a critical look. "You obviously don't know what to do with your hands. Put them by your sides. Try not to look like such a rookie."

It turned out that my hands were nervously clasped in front of me. I didn't realize I was doing that. It took some effort, but I did as Emma asked.

Then Emma hooked a finger in my collar, dragged my face to hers, and kissed me. And it was none of that peck-on-the-cheek stuff. It was the real thing. My mouth opened immediately and her tongue began a long, leisurely, exploration. She tasted of fine champagne and the faintest trace of expensive tobacco.

And, suddenly, my hands were on the side of her face, holding her in place. Meanwhile, her hands were sliding over my bare body.

There were a few chuckles and other sounds of approval from around us. Apparently we were quite the spectacle.

We eventually broke apart. And with our faces inches from one another, we looked into each other's eyes. Hers were cold and clear and blue, like always. But this time is seemed like there was something distracted in them.

"That brought back old memories," I said, trying not to let my voice shake.

"I wish..." Emma began - and then stopped. And did my ears deceive me or did Emma Frost, woman of iron and ice, sardonic viewer of the contemptible human condition, and breaker of countless hearts, also seem to speak with a bit of a tremor?

"We have things to do," Emma finally finished, her words now steady and sure. Then she made a point of putting some space between us.

"Hello, Emma," a familiar voice said.

Emma turned to greet the person who had spoken. I damn near had a heart attack.

She was wearing a ball mask, but it didn't conceal who she was.

Ororo. Dear God in heaven, it was Ororo.

A fellow named Logan runs the biggest gang in town. His senior people are all like him - people with powers. Two of them are Ororo and Warren Worthington. Ororo and Warren are an unlikely couple, but they've been together for years.

Warren, strangely enough, comes from a family that's richer than hell. So it made complete sense that he had a key to the Hellfire Club. Over Ororo's shoulder, I could see Warren on the far side of the room. He was having an animated - and angry - talk with a couple of men. Ororo had apparently gotten bored and wandered away.

Ororo was wearing a long, flowing, black and gold gown. A side slit on her dress showed a lot of very attractive leg. The outfit contrasted well with her white hair and light brown skin.

"Hello, Ororo," Emma smiled. "I didn't realize that you and Warren would be here tonight. What brings Logan's representatives to our humble little affair?"

Ororo shrugged, her eyes on Emma's face and ignoring me completely. "The usual. We are reminding the rich and fatuous of the limits of their power. Right now, Warren is letting somebody know that they really should not try and compete with our smuggling operations."

Emma glanced towards where Warren was standing. "I'm afraid the men Warren is talking with are even more arrogant and stupid than normal. I don't think your warning will succeed."

"Then there will be consequences," Ororo replied with a chuckle. "Actually, I rather hope so."

Then Ororo looked at me.

"I like this one," Ororo said idly, her eyes roaming up and down my bare body. "Is she new?"

I relaxed, forcing my posture into something feminine, graceful, and as submissive as someone like me could manage. Actually, that wasn't too hard to do in the aftermath of Emma's kiss. Parts of me happened to be feeling very, very, feminine at the moment.

"Yes, she's new," Emma said as she put a hand on my bare shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Remarkable complexion," Ororo said thoughtfully, talking about me as if I wasn't right there. "So pale that, in a certain light, it might seem like a shade of light blue. And the scars give her a certain character. She is familiar with violence. And not scared of it. Not many women are like that."

Then Ororo locked eyes with me. She knew precisely who I was. And she wanted to know if I was there of my own free will. If she didn't like the answer, I suspected all hell was going to break loose.

I took a step forward and took Ororo firmly by the shoulders. The kiss I gave her was as wild and enthusiastic as the one Emma and I had just shared. And maybe a part of me was just trying to put Emma in her place by kissing Ororo. But no matter what, it was a lot of fun - particularly that moment when a very surprised Ororo seemed to melt against me.

"It's okay," I eventually whispered in Ororo's ear. Then I licked it for good measure.

By then, Ororo was smiling. She looked into my eyes, then back at Emma. "I really must get back to Warren."

Emma nodded, "Of course. It was good to see you, Ororo."

Emma handed me some tissue from her purse. "Clean off your face," she ordered tartly. "You have lipstick all over yourself."

"None of it's mine," I said as I scrubbed my lips and lower face. "I never wear the stuff."

"Precisely," Emma responded acidly.

She was jealous. Score one for me.

"I'm just playing my role of a typical Hellfire Club slattern," I responded with a grin.

"You do seem to have a talent for it," Emma shot back.

Then she paused and took a deep breath. "Go fetch us a pair of drinks - I'll have a dry vodka martini with one olive. Meanwhile, I'll see if I can find out where Pym is."

Emma handed me the end of my leash. I'd already noticed that when someone with a leash walked away from whoever they were with, the leashee simply wrapped it the rest of the way around their neck to keep it out of the way. So I did the same, the loop on the holder's end dangled between my breasts.

It's amazing how quickly you can adjust to things. The bar was near a side entrance to the hall. I wandered across the room stark naked... and all I could think about was how the high heels I was wearing really didn't fit me very well. It didn't help that I only wear heels once or twice a year. Unlike Marie, I've never really acquired the knack of walking in them. My feet were beginning to hurt.

"Russki martini light. One green," I told the bartender - a middle-aged, but buxomly handsome woman. Her ruffled shirt had wildly exaggerated collars and cuffs. "And a double bourbon neat."

"Domino?" someone said. The voice had the barest trace of Boston working class accent. I looked towards the voice and immediately recognized the naked woman standing next to me.

"These masks aren't worth a shit," I grumbled. The bartender actually paused in what she was doing and laughed.

I knew the girl who'd just spoken to me. A while back, Marie and I bumped into her while we were on a case. She went out of her way to help us when it might have cost her a lot to do that. She helped us because someone she owed was in trouble and needed a hand. I didn't care how she made a living, people who do stuff like that are solid in my book.

"I'm sorry to say this, but I never caught your name," I told her.

"Olivia," she replied as she put a tall glass lined with red residue on the bar. "Bloody Mary - lots of veggies," she told the bartender. The bartender nodded.

"Are you here with Percy?" I asked. A fellow named Percy Andrews had been her meal-ticket the last time we met.

Olivia rolled her eyes - which has an interestingly exaggerated effect when you're wearing a ball mask. "He's in one of the back rooms, hopped up on morphine. So he won't be having much use for me tonight - except for helping him get back home. Right now I'm just having a few free drinks and trying to avoid the more touchy-feely rich farts."

"Watch it," the bartender warned, not bothering to look up from her work.

Olivia waved a hand apologetically. "Sorry. I'm just having a few free drinks and trying to avoid the more touchy-feely of our esteemed Hellfire Club masters."

"That's better," the bartender said approvingly as she got to work on Olivia's drink. The drinks I'd ordered were on the bar in front of me. I took a sip from mine... and couldn't help but nod approvingly. It was a fine bourbon, smooth and smoky. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the Hellfire Club served the good stuff.

"Hey, Olivia," I asked, "do you know a guy named Pym? Henry Pym. He's a prof at the university. I hear he's a member."

"Sure," Olivia replied matter-of-factly. "He's Janet's guy."

"What do you know about them?"

Olivia frowned thoughtfully. "He's been coming here for as long as I remember. Percy shared me with him a couple of times back before he took up with Janet. Hank likes the rough stuff, but he's polite about it. He asks first and doesn't go beyond what you've asked him not to do. I wish everyone else here was like that."

"And Janet?" I prodded.

"I'm surprised you don't know. Janet and Pym are an item. They've been together a couple of years."

I took another drink as I considered what Olivia had said.

"So you're saying..." I said, letting my words drag out.

"He likes it rough. She likes it rough," Olivia replied. "They give each other what they need."

I think I made a face.

"At the moment, we're both naked and pretty trash for rich people," Olivia reminded me quietly. "We really don't have the right to judge anyone."

Okay, maybe it was more complex than that, but Olivia had a point.

"You're right," I said. "Sorry."

"What's going to be sorry is you two if you don't get away from my bar and back to work," the bartender warned us grumpily. "Go find someone to entertain or I'll tan both of your fine little asses a deep shade of red."

Olivia and I grabbed our drinks and moved out. As we skirted the dance floor, we had to dodge a happily twirling couple. Their eyes were closed and they were in a world of their own. One of them was a small, iron-haired, and slender woman dressed in a black satin dress that was about a decade out of style. Her partner was a naked boy easily a third of her age. I found myself hoping he was at least out of his teens, but I wasn't willing to bet on it.

After that, we stepped around two older men who were enthusiastically comparing their latest cocaine acquisitions. One of them casually groped Olivia's ass as we walked past. She gave him a dazzling smile... and then grabbed my arm just in time to keep me from breaking the bastard's nose.

"Stop it," Olivia told me firmly as she dragged me away. "These assholes have real power. You don't want to piss any of them off."

I took a deep breath and nodded my head. Olivia let go of my arm, pulled a stalk of celery out of her drink, and took a crunchy bite.

"You haven't asked why I'm here," I said to Olivia.

Olivia was still munching on celery. "I'm guessing you're here on a case and that it involves Pym. The only thing I can't figure out is what it has to do with Miss Frost and Miss Munroe. I saw that show you put on with them. You're a dynamite kisser, Domino."

I winced. "Want to do me a favor and not spread it around that I'm here on a case?"

Olivia shrugged. "Who the heck would I tell? People here don't think my mouth is for talking."

"Who was that?" Emma asked. She was holding her drink in one had and the end of my leash in the other.

"Her name's Olivia. She's a working girl who's with Percy Andrews."

Emma made a face. "That's right - I knew I'd seen her before. She has abysmal taste in masters."

I let the word 'masters' slide. "Yeah."

"Did she have anything interesting to say?" Emma persisted.

"Not really," I replied quickly. "Just some gossip. Percy has a morphine problem,"

I was trying to give Emma an interesting tidbit. Emma is pretty free with her powers - unlike Jean or Xavier. If she decided Olivia was a problem, or knew too much, she might very well decide to wipe Olivia's recent memory. I wasn't sure I wanted that.

Emma looked disgusted - I've always had the impression she doesn't approve of hard drugs. "Yes. Well that will make your friend's job easier. At least for a while."

"Did you find out anything?" I asked.

Emma gave me a strange look.

Okay, it was no surprise that the rest of the mansion was devoted to even wilder forms of sin and debauchery than what I'd already seen.

When you thought about the party in the main hall - with it's casually naked servants, open drug use, and alcoves where the rich and famous could be provided with a quick orgasm - then what went on elsewhere in the mansion had to be pretty extreme.

Look, I wasn't completely taken by surprise by what I'd seen so far. I'd heard stories about the Hellfire Club for years. But there's always a difference between hearing a story and seeing the truth with your own eyes. Until then, I just wasn't sure how much of what I'd heard was real and how much was fantasy.

It turned out that everything I'd heard - no matter how wild - was true.

Emma and I entered a room that was only lit by a single, bright spotlight. The margins of the room were dark and crowded with couches. The layout made it difficult for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. What happened in any given couch would remain a mystery, even if you were sitting adjacent to it. But a few quiet moans gave you all the clues you needed.

A servant escorted us to an empty couch - there was a dull light on their arms that illuminated nothing, and was shielded when someone took possession. Emma and I sat together. Neither of us said anything about it, but from the moment we sat down, we were right next to each other. We were holding hands and our bodies were pressed together.

In the middle of the room, under that bright and merciless light, Janet Van Dyne was suspended by her wrists. Chains ran up from her manacles and into the darkness above and she was only barely able to touch the floor with her toes. She wasn't wearing any clothes.

Two men - one of them Henry Pym - were standing to either side of Janet. They had viciously thin switches in their hands, and were taking turns using them on Janet. Janet's face was torn between pain and ecstasy. Sometimes one. Sometimes the other. Sometimes both.

"Thank you, master!" Janet kept moaning, over and over. Depending on what was being done to her, sometimes she whispered it, sometimes she screamed it.

The analytical part of my mind put some facts together. The way Janet had been dressed the other day had been subtly off. She'd been wearing an outfit with long sleeves, a high collar, and a skirt that went down to her ankles. It wasn't quite right for the weather. Now I knew why. It was designed to hide the marks on her body.

Janet's skin was a tangled roadmap of marks. Some were brand new, some were days old.

Shaking with revulsion, I got to my feet and left.

I was disgusted with Pym. Disgusted with Janet. Disgusted with Emma. Disgusted with the human race.

And, most of all, I was disgusted with myself.

"Give me a triple this time," I told the bartender.

She gave me a long look. "You saw something bad?"

I snorted bitterly.

"I know you're new," she told me quietly, and not without sympathy. "So you get one drink - and just one drink. And you have fifteen minutes to get yourself together. Then, after that, you put a pretty smile on that pretty face and get your pretty ass back out there. Do you understand?"

I nodded as I leaned against the bar. The drink the bartender poured me was pretty generous. I was grateful for that.

Before I became a private eye, I was a soldier, a spy, a cop, and a gangster. I've seen stuff that was by any reasonable definition far, far worse than what was happening to Janet. Hell, I've _done_ stuff that was worse.

Why did it bother me so much? Janet was an adult and this was apparently something she wanted. And as far as I knew, she could walk away from it at any time.

Emma stood next to me. The bartender stiffened immediately, her eyes suddenly bright with fear.

"Hello, Cindy," Emma said to her.

"Ma'am... it's good to see you," the bartender - Cindy - choked out.

Emma pointed at my drink. "Give us the bottle."

"Yes, ma'am," Cindy replied quickly.

The bottle appeared almost immediately. So did a glass for Emma. Cindy carefully poured for Emma. When she finished pouring, Emma touched her on the back of the hand.

Cindy froze.

"It's been a long time," Emma said to her.

"Yes, mistress," Cindy whispered as she stared at Emma. They say some kinds of snakes can mesmerize birds. This looked like that.

Then Emma leaned over and gave Cindy a peck on the cheek. The expression that came over Cindy's face was an elegant mixture of fear and desire.

"You'd best get back to work," Emma told her.

Cindy nodded jerkily and walked quickly over to other end of the bar. A pair of Chinese girls wearing formal courtesan makeup - and nothing else - were chatting amiably in Mandarin as they dropped off some drinks to be refilled. They both went silent and averted their eyes when they saw Emma. One made a ancient Buddhist gesture with her hand. It was intended to ward off evil.

"You're pretty well known around here," I noted. Maybe there was a sarcastic edge to my words.

Emma nodded and downed her drink without hesitation. The whiskey didn't seem to faze her.

My drink was gone. Emma poured me another.

"The hardest part is accepting that you sometimes enjoy what you see here," she told me.

I was about to deny everything, but then I realized who I was talking to.

You just can't lie to Emma Frost.

I finished my drink again. Emma didn't pour me another, and Cindy was keeping her distance, so I filled my glass by myself.

"Who's the other guy?" I asked harshly. I'd gulped down too much whiskey, way too fast, and my throat was raw. And the world was getting wobbly.

Emma seemed puzzled.

"The other guy with Pym and Janet. Who is he?"

Emma's face cleared.

"His name is Trask," she told me. "Bolivar Trask."

It was something like four in the morning when I finally got home. Emma and I had killed the bottle together. I was still drunk.

Marie was waiting for me. She was curled up on the couch with a book in her hands. As she got to her feet, she smiled tiredly and shook her head at my state.

"So have you finally cheated on me?" she asked as I collapsed into the easy chair. She was still smiling.

"No," I responded as I kicked off my shoes, "but, as always with Emma, it was touch and go."

"What happened?" Marie as she sat on the arm of the chair and began loosening my tie.

"Emma took me to the Hellfire Club and made me run around bareass naked. And I learned a lot more about Janet Van Dyne and Henry Pym know than I really wanted to know."

Marie looked mildly shocked. "The Hellfire Club?"

By now my jacket and shirt was off. I was relieved to note that I hadn't left my bra in the back of Emma's car. After some thought, I reassured myself that I was wearing my panties.

"That place is just as crazy as they say," I said with a shake of my head.

"I know," Marie nodded.

It took me a second to process that. "Wait... you've been there?"

Marie nodded again. "Yep. Back when I worked for Logan. Warren and I would visit every now and then - he's a member. Normally it was to let people know that they shouldn't forget about us. The people at the Hellfire Club are pretty sure they rule the world. Our job was to remind them that wasn't true."

My pants were gone and... yes... I actually did have my panties on. Good for me.

"Ororo has your old job. She was there with Warren."

"How is she?" Marie asked. By now my panties and socks were gone.

"I had to kiss her in order to whisper a message in her ear. We both really liked it. You know, you really should be pissed at me."

"Maybe later," Marie laughed. "It's hard to get mad at someone for the things they did at the Hellfire Club. That place has a knack for taking away your inhibitions. I've got some stories of my own about that place."

I shook my head.

Then Marie was kneeling in front of me, looking girlishly innocent in her white, ankle-length, nightdress. The blaze of white in her hair seemed particularly intense. Grabbing me by the hips, she yanked me forward until my bare ass was perched right on the edge of the chair. Then she opened my legs very wide.

"Sugar, let me remind you why you shouldn't bother yourself with other women," Marie told me huskily, her breath warm on my inner thighs.

I closed my eyes as Marie went to work.

Then I let out a low, gasping cry. It was the first of many.

I called Sooraya the next morning and gave her something to work on. Then I took a few aspirin and went back to bed. Marie and I slept in until ten. Then we made love one more time, showered together, got dressed, and finally deigned to show up at work.

"Bolivar Trask is a noted industrialist," Sooraya told us as she examined some notes and paperwork on her desk. "He lives in Philadelphia, but visits here often. Trask International is considered to be a major competitor to Stark Industries, but it is understood that Stark International has the upper hand in their dealings. Mr. Trask's latest projects include a new radio for Navy and Air Corps aircraft and a number of highly efficient electrical generator designs. He has several facilities here in town, but none of them are very large and they are all focused on research."

"Mr. Trask was married, but is now divorced. His estranged wife lives in New York city. They have a son. He is ten years old and attends a private school in New Hampshire."

"Did anything odd turn up during the divorce?" I asked suddenly.

Both Marie and Sooraya gave me an odd look.

"I'm sorry, Miss Domino, but I'm not sure what you mean," Sooraya said. She was obviously puzzled.

"Any juicy gossip?" I explained. "Was he cheating on her? Did he drink? Did he beat her?"

I tried not to put any emphasis on anything I'd said.

"The divorce was on the grounds of mutual incompatibility," Sooraya said. "I didn't find anything otherwise in the gossip columns."

Sooraya was turning into a cracker-jack library researcher. I nodded my head, took another sip of coffee, and made a gesture indicating she should go on.

"I found two things of note during my research. Mr. Trask is often seen with Dr. Pym whenever he happens to be in town. Dr. Pym sometimes consults for Mr. Trask, but they also appear to be friends. They've known each other since their college days."

"Is Trask seeing anybody?" I interrupted.

This time Sooraya didn't hesitate. "Since his divorce, Mr. Trask has had the usual assignations you might expect for a man of his wealth. They are mostly actresses, models, and other professionally beautiful women. None of those relationships have lasted very long."

"If any of those girls are local, I want their names," I said thoughtfully.

"Yes, Miss Domino," Sooraya replied as she made a note.

"You said there were two oddball things you noticed about Trask," Marie noted. "What's the second?"

"Mr. Trask is apparently interested in the subject of people with powers - mutants as some people call them."

"Interested how?" I growled, suddenly sure how this was going to go.

Sooraya took a deep breath. "He feels that mutants and non-mutants are a threat to each other. He is of the opinion that one side will inevitably destroy or enslave the other. He has made this argument in a number of small journals, public conversations, and letters to the editor of various publications. He has not made any specific suggestions on how to deal with the situation."

Marie shook her head. "This again," she muttered to herself.

All over the world, anti-mutant sentiment is on the rise. It has been ever since the Depression started. If you ask me, hard times creates a need for scapegoats.

However, our city... our grimy, crappy, decrepit, little cesspool of a town... is an oasis of human-mutant harmony.

Okay, I couldn't actually manage to say that with a straight face. Let me try again.

This town is really run by the biggest local crime boss. That's a guy named Logan. And, trust me on this, Logan is one of the most dangerous things on two legs that you'll ever meet.

Logan has decreed that normal people and people with powers are not to screw with each other. At least not in an organized, political kind of way. He thinks it's bad for business. If you mess with that rule, then you are messing with Logan. Messing with Logan is a really bad idea. So peace - of a sort - is the rule here. And that peace steadily attracts more and more powered people to our fair city. We have more mutants in this town than anywhere else on Earth.

And it's all due to that short, hairy, smelly, ugly, bastard of a Canadian gangster.

Sooraya came up with a list of three local women who'd dated Bolivar Trask. Two of them weren't available. Marie and I paid a visit to the third. Her parents had named her Mary McGraw, but her professional name was Sarah Night. She was a peroxide blonde with a spectacular figure. You could tell by the fleshiness around her eyes that she was in a constant battle to avoid gaining too much weight. So far, she was winning.

"Private eyes? Really?" Sarah asked, eyeing us both with obvious amusement.

Sarah was working for the biggest local radio station, but I had the impression that it wasn't a high-paying job. We'd caught her at a late lunch break. She was eating a salad that looked a little wilted. I found myself hoping she hadn't paid too much for it.

"Really," I confirmed.

She cocked her head at me. "So you're the cynical, tough-as-nails, gumshoe and she's the beautiful, loyal, secretary who secretly has the hots for you?"

I was honestly taken aback by that. Once upon a time, that had been dead true.

"Actually, I'm her partner," Marie answered, apparently unfazed by what Sarah had said. "And there's nothing secret about how I feel for her."

Sarah nodded as she used her fork to extract some lettuce from between her front teeth.

"Rug-munchers, huh? I drive a stick myself, but to each his own. What can I do for you?"

By now it was obvious that there wasn't much of a gap between whatever Sarah was thinking and what was coming out of her mouth. Questioning somebody like that is either really easy or really frustrating.

"We understand you used to date Bolivar Trask," I said.

She nodded immediately. "We went out a few times. Nothing serious and part of it was maybe just for show. A single guy his age has to be seen with women or people start talking. What's this about?"

"Does that really matter?" Marie asked as she put a ten dollar bill on the table. That was about five dollars more than I would have started with, but Marie's always been a bit generous with that sort of thing.

Sarah eyed the green thoughtfully. "I guess it doesn't. What do you want to know?"

"Anything interesting about your time with him?" I asked.

Sarah shrugged. "He likes blowjobs."

"You've just described every man on earth," I sighed. Marie tried not to smile.

Sarah grinned. "I guess you're right. Okay, how about this. We met in a fancy bar down on Independence Avenue and went out maybe four or five times. He was pretty generous and always showed me a good time - we went to some really nice places. I started sleeping with him after the second date. He was rich, good looking, and not bad in the sack. I guess I was hoping I might be able to get something long-term going with him, but he eventually stopped calling. And I'm not inclined to beg a man for his company, so that was the end of it."

"How did he treat you?" Marie asked.

She took a moment to think about that. "A little free with his hands after we started sleeping together. Otherwise he was okay. I guess he was on the distant side, but I can see how a man in his position might get like that. Once you have money, I suppose everyone wants a part of it. I sure did."

"What are his politics?" I asked.

"He's a Roosevelt Democrat. Thinks government spending is what we need to get us out of the Depression. Of course, he expects to get some of that government money for himself, so maybe that's not so surprising. Like you might expect, he knows some bigshots. He once postponed a date with me because he had to meet with a Senator named Kelly."

"Does he have any extreme opinions?" I interjected.

Sarah examined my face closely before answering. "He doesn't like your kind."

"'My kind'?"

"People with powers. He thinks you want to take over."

"What makes you think we have powers?" Marie asked curiously.

Sarah nodded at me and then looked back at Marie. "Your friend's obvious - just look at her skin color. And you have the look as well. Your kind can do things that normal people can't. That scares normal folks and you're kinda cocky about it. As near as I can tell, you all have that look about you."

Marie didn't say anything, but she seemed to examine Sarah thoughtfully.

"Does Trask have any opinions on how to save your kind from my kind?" I asked.

"He never said anything about that to me. He's just pretty sure that someday there's going to be some kind of war."

"He knows somebody named Henry Pym. Ever meet him?"

Sarah's face got tight. "Hank? Oh, yeah. He's some sort of college professor. Bolivar and I went out on a double date with Hank and his lady friend. It was the opening show for a musical down in the theater district. Hank's girl is Janet Van Dyne - you know, the fashion designer?"

"How did that date go?" I asked.

Sarah hesitated.

"Something wrong?" Marie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I... felt kind of like the odd girl out," Sarah said slowly. "Bolivar and Hank and Janet were all... together. They were friends and I was an outsider. Which was strange since Janet is nothing like Bolivar and Hank. They're both really smart and maybe a little awkward with people, while Janet is this bundle of personality and energy. It was the only time I was with Bolivar when I felt like I was just eye candy."

"So they've known one another for some time?" I asked, mostly just to keep Sarah talking.

"I don't know, but it's like..." Then Sarah paused again, her brown eyes seeming to peer off into the distance.

Marie and I waited for Sarah to finish. People are social animals. We don't like to leave words hanging in a conversation.

"There's some kind of special connection between the three of them," Sarah said. "When Janet's around, Bolivar and Hank kind of light up, you know?"

"Are you saying the three of them are... uh... together?" Marie suggested.

Sarah shook her head slowly. "Maybe."

"When you were with Bolivar, did he want anything kinky?" I asked.

Marie's eyes flickered towards me, but she didn't say anything.

Sarah laughed. "Nothing too strange. Believe me, I've known guys who were weirder. A lot weirder in some cases."

"You said he was free with this hands," I reminded her.

"Yeah, but he kept it private. He's not one of those guys who grabs you in front of everyone so he can show people what a big man he is. He just likes to touch."

"Anything else?" I prompted.

Sarah suddenly chuckled. "Well... one night we were fooling around and I pushed some of his buttons just because I could - I guess that was right after our double date with Hank and Janet. And then the next thing I knew I was over his knee. He gave me a sound little spanking."

"It wasn't too bad?" I asked.

Believe it or not, bold-as-brass Sarah Night actually turned a little pink around the ears. "We then had a seriously hot fuck. If that's bad, I wouldn't mind more of it."

I played a hunch. "Was that your last date with Trask?"

Sarah shook her head. "We went out one more time, but it went kind of flat. He made an obvious excuse and dropped me off early. I never heard from him again - the bastard."

I put another ten on the table.

"What do you know that you're not telling me?" Marie asked after we got back to the car.

I told her what I'd seen in that back-room of the Hellfire Club.

"Oh..." Marie said with wide eyes.

"Oh," I repeated flatly.

Marie was silent for a while as she thought over what I'd told her.

"What does that have to do with what Tony hired us for?" she finally asked.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. "That's a good question. I don't know. Maybe nothing. Remember what I told you about getting caught up in strange leads?"

When you investigate people, you sometimes discover odd things about them. An easy mistake is to decide that the weird thing you just unearthed must have something to do with the larger case. I once spent days trying to find the connection between an accountant's expensive taste for rare Asian art and the fact he was cooking the books where he worked. It turned out there was no connection at all. He was stealing the money to pay for his mother's hospital bills.

"Let's backtrack," Marie suggested. "So Tony hires us to investigate some odd shipments of specialized parts and equipment."

I nodded in agreement. This was a good game - it made you think about where you were, how you got there, and forced you to review the facts.

"We find out that some of the shipments are going to Pym at the University," I said.

"We talk to Pym," Marie continued, "and he tells us about his super-calculator - and we decide that he knows something more about what's going on than he's telling us."

I took the handoff. "We hire Jean to keep an eye on Pym, while we pursue other leads. She spots a Hellfire Club messenger boy paying Pym a visit. Jean recognizes him because Emma is so big in the Hellfire Club. Jean asks Emma some questions about Pym and the Hellfire Club, and then Emma contacts me."

Now it was Marie's turn. "You go with Emma to the Hellfire Club and get an eyeful of Janet and Pym's idea of a fun Saturday night. And it turns out that Trask is a part of it."

Back to me. "Trask is also a member of the Hellfire Club. Trask is a scientist and businessman and has lots of money. Trask also has an anti-mutant streak. Trask and Pym sometimes work together. Trask is part of a weird threesome - maybe sexual, maybe not - involving Pym and Janet."

"So where does that leave us?" Marie asked as she slowly ran her fingers through the white streak in her hair. She does that when she's thinking.

"Remember when we first talked to Pym and decided that he knew more than he was telling us?" I said thoughtfully.

Marie nodded.

"Who does Pym know who would be doing an engineering project that Pym would recognize from just a list of parts?"

"Trask," Marie said immediately.

"But Pym seemed to be surprised by what we showed him. So assuming this is about Trask, and Pym didn't know that Trask is up to something, what does Pym do next?"

"He has a talk with his good buddy Trask," Marie replied immediately.

"Let's see if Jean has anything for us," I suggested.

"Yes, I recognize him," Jean said. We'd just shown her a newspaper file picture of Bolivar Trask.

"Has Pym talked to him?" I asked eagerly. We needed a break in this case.

Jean gave me a surprised look. "They're talking right now. Trask showed up at Pym's laboratory just a half-hour ago."

Standing outside of Pym's laboratory, we could just barely hear shouting from inside. However, I couldn't make out any of the words.

"Go back to the student hall," I told Marie and Jean. "I don't want them to see all of us together."

Marie seemed rebellious at first, but gave in to the logic of the situation - it would be a good idea if Pym and Trask didn't know the faces of everyone on the team that was investigating them.

Once Jean and Marie were out of sight, I banged on the laboratory door. The shouting immediately died away. Then, after a brief pause, the door opened.

It was Pym. Trask was standing in the middle of the lab. Both men were red-faced and breathing hard. The tension between them was clearly visible.

Was it my imagination, or did Trask's face get even more angry when he saw me? I do look a little different from most people, and Sarah had recognized me as a mutant immediately. Was Trask just as eagle-eyed?

"Miss Domino," Pym said formally, "this is not a good time."

"I was hoping I could talk with you two about your current work," I asked.

Pym tried to hide it, but he winced. And Trask was suddenly paying even more attention to me.

"What do you think you know?" Pym asked, his tone of voice very flat. Pym has a bad case of smart-person's disease - the automatic assumption that everyone else is stupid.

"You're working on some kind of electronic brain," I said. "It's a machine that can do something akin to thinking. And Trask here has stolen or borrowed some of your ideas. He plans on building a mutant-hunting weapon with them."

I figured it out on the way to the laboratory. It helped when I remembered something that Emma had told me about Pym - that his current project was more than just a bigger and better calculator. He was actually working on something that imitated the human brain.

After that, everything suddenly fit together. However, I wasn't a hundred percent sure, so I didn't tell Jean and Marie what I thought was going on.

Pym gave me a long and startled look. Then he shook his head and stepped back from the door. "Come in," he said.

I hesitated.

Pym and Trask were full-grown men and neither was in bad shape, but they weren't fighters. They were scientists and desk-jockeys. I should be able to take either one of them - or both of them together - in any kind of a fair fight. And that wasn't even taking into account my penchant for wild strokes of luck, or that I was armed.

And yet I hesitated to be alone in the same room with them. I'd seen a different side to both men - a side that enjoyed making a woman scream. And if I walked into Pym's laboratory, I would be on their turf. Who knew what surprises they might have prepared for an intruder?

For a split-second, I once again saw that scene from the Hellfire Club mansion. Only this time it was me hanging by my wrists.

Suddenly, I wished I hadn't sent Marie and Jean away. It was hard to believe, but I realized that I was scared of Henry Pym and Bolivar Trask.

Keeping my face as expressionless as I could manage, I took a deep breath and stepped inside Henry Pym's lab.

A strange thought occurred to me. It was something that Sarah Night had said. She told Marie and I that 'our kind' - mutants - frightened ordinary people.

Was this how she felt around us?

Was this how Trask felt about us?

I was inside the lab, but I kept my hand on the door handle. I couldn't quite bring myself to close it.

Pym noticed. "Leave the door open," he said quietly.

"Hank..." Trask said warningly.

Pym shot Trask a harsh look.

"Hank, I can't let you do this," Trask said.

I flexed my hands in order to make the shaking stop. If it came down to it, I could quick-draw the .45 out of my shoulder-holster in almost no time at all.

Pym shook his head. "I've been thinking the same thing about you, Bolivar. Forget about your Sentinel project. We both know you won't go through with it."

The look on Trask's face turned hard and mean. Pym had just challenged the commitment of a fanatic to his cause. That tends not to end well.

"Saying that you want to defend us against mutants is just an abstraction," Pym continued. "It really means that you plan on killing them. But can you kill someone you love? With your own hands? With your own creations? I don't think so, Bolivar. You aren't that kind of man."

That was the dead-wrong thing to say. I could see murder in Trask's eyes as he glared at us. Then he went for a gun.

Trask was faster than you might expect, but nowhere near as fast as me. And, oddly enough, that's what saved his life. My semi-automatic was in my hand and leveled at Trask's chest before he even managed to put his hand inside his jacket. If he'd actually managed to get a weapon clear and pointed at least roughly in our direction, I would have shot him on the spot.

Trask's eyes went wide as he stared down the muzzle of my .45 and realized that he was just a tiny amount of trigger pressure away from residency in the morgue.

Pym looked from Trask to me - and then back again. He didn't seem frightened. Rather, he just looked disgusted with both of us.

"Put your hands where I can see them," I ordered Trask.

Trask slowly obeyed, but something about his attitude suggested that he didn't think he was out of options.

That was when a robot came through the wall.

Something hit the exterior brick wall - hard - and it ruptured inward. It was like an explosion. Brick, mortar, wooden trim, and assorted other debris flew at us. I took a jagged chunk of brick to the head that knocked me flat.

Standing in the gap of the shattered wall, broken bricks clattering down it's metallic body, was a tall, man-like machine, easily eight foot tall.

My vision was blurry and my ears were ringing as I struggled to my feet. I had a nasty cut on the side of my head and I could feel hot blood flowing down the side of my face and neck.

The robot reacted to my movement - and only mine. Completely ignoring Pym and Trask, its head rotated as it somehow tracked me. Then it took an ominous step in my direction.

Trask was just a few feet in front of me. He'd also been knocked down by the appearance of the robot. I immediately swarmed over him, wrapping an arm around Trask's throat and shoving my handgun into his side.

As I'd hoped, the robot froze.

"So that's your mutant-hunting machine?" I hissed into Trask's ear.

Trask gave a single, abrupt, nod.

"Call it off!" I told Trask, jamming my gun deeper into his ribs to emphasize what I was saying.

"Sentinel zero zero one!" Trask shouted. "Go to standby!"

The robot seemed to slump slightly.

I reached into Trask's jacket, intending to get his gun away from him. But he didn't have a firearm. Instead, he had something that looked something like a small radio.

Whatever it was, I didn't like the sight of it. I pitched if off to the side.

By now, Henry Pym was on his feet. He advanced slowly towards the robot, obviously fascinated by what he was seeing.

"Hank... don't..." Trask called. "It will defend itself if you get too close."

Okay, that was good to know. Pym stopped and then carefully began backing away.

"Why did you bring this thing with you?" Pym asked Trask.

"I thought if you saw it, you would change your mind," Trask choked out. I still had him grappled. "It reacted to protect me after a weapon was drawn."

Pym didn't say anything, but he was listening to what Trask was saying.

"We've discussed the mutant crisis," Trask continued. "You know what will happen. Is it so wrong to want the human race to survive? Together, we can make the Sentinels into something other than war machines. They can become a police force - existing to keep mutants from taking complete control. They will give humanity a way to respond to the threat. As it now stands, we are defenseless."

"Be careful, Pym," I said coldly. "Your friend is building some kind of murder robot that targets people with powers. This town is filled with people who are gonna take exception to that."

Pym nodded slowly, his eyes on mine. Then he said, "ULTRON, disarm her."

Some force snatched my gun from my hand. It flew across the room and slammed into a metal plate mounted on a wall. It didn't fall after it hit the plate. The gun just stayed there like it was glued in place.

I was off-balance and surprised. Trask took the opportunity to twist away from me. I managed to kick his legs out from under him before he could get too far. Then Pym landed a surprisingly fast and strong rabbit-punch on the side of my face. I was rocked back on my heels almost as much from surprise as from the force of the blow. I side-slipped, dodged another punch, and got ready to beat both men into the ground.

And then the Sentinel grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the nearest wall. It was effortlessly holding me up with one hand. I tried to pry its fingers loose. That didn't work. Then I chopped at it's wrist and elbow. That didn't work either. Then I kicked it as hard as I could in what would have been a man's solar plexus.

It didn't even flinch. Nothing was working.

So I went for it's 'eyes', but they were shielded by thick glass and I couldn't dig my thumbs into them. Meanwhile its grip on my neck was steadily increasing and my vision was beginning to go red...

Pym grabbed the Sentinel by the arm and yanked hard, trying to break me loose. All the while, he was yelling, "Damn it, Bolivar! Stop this!"

If Bolivar Trask had anything to say, I didn't hear it.

Pym let go of the Sentinel's arm and snarled, "ULTRON! Electro-magnetic overload attack on Sentinel zero zero one!"

Every vacuum tube in the lab exploded - and the Sentinel convulsed and shook in response. It was distracted and perhaps damaged.

I braced my foot against the Sentinel's chest and yanked my revolver out of its ankle holster. With my last shred of consciousness, I put the muzzle up against one of the Sentinel's eyes and pulled the trigger.

The bullet crashed through the thick glass port over the robot's eye, sending shards of glass and metal flying - some cutting into my face. For a bizarre split-second, I could actually see into the interior of the Sentinel's head. The grip on my throat weakened as the Sentinel reeled backwards, but it was still holding me suspended in mid-air.

What I saw next didn't make a lot of sense. Something small - insect-small - buzzed through the air and into the hole I'd blown through the Sentinel's eye. Then there was a flash of white and blue electricity from inside the Sentinel's skull. The Sentinel convulsed suddenly and threw me across the room.

I slammed into something hard and everything went dark.

I didn't wake up all at once. Instead, I became aware in a series of bleary, painful stages. Then I suddenly remembered that I'd been in a fight with a killer robot.

"Easy," Janet Van Dyne said as I frantically jerked awake. I was lying on a bed and my right wrist was handcuffed to the brass headboard.

Still breathing hard from my flash of panic, I looked around. We were in a small bedroom. There was folksy artwork on the walls and the furniture was plain but sturdy. It looked completely ordinary.

My head was throbbing and my throat hurt, but somebody had bandaged up my hands - I'd smashed them up pretty badly trying to fight my way out of the Sentinel's grasp. There was a mirror on the far end of the room and I caught my reflection in it. I was cut, bruised and battered, but again, somebody had made an effort to patch me up. There was a big bandage wrapped around my head. It was obvious that I'd come way too close to losing my most recent fight in a very final way.

My rumpled and blood-stained jacket was tidily folded over a nearby chair. My badly scuffed shoes were neatly tucked under the same chair. My .45 and shoulder holster were nowhere to be seen. And my revolver wasn't in my ankle holster.

Janet was sitting by the door. She had a book in her hands. As I watched, she inserted a bookmark and put it on the chest of drawers next to her. I noticed that it was the latest Hemingway.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Janet said.

"Janet," I said as calmly as I could manage, "I honestly don't have a clue how you're involved in this, but you should know that your two boyfriends are honest-to-God mad scientists."

Janet shook her head. "That way Hank and Bolivar tell it, you pulled a gun on them. They think you're the crazy one."

I chuckled painfully and rattled the handcuffs that secured me to the bed. "Fine. So let's call the cops and let them sort it out. I'm perfectly happy to wait until they show up."

Janet stirred uneasily, but didn't respond.

I licked my lips. "Do you have any water? And I wouldn't turn down an aspirin."

Wordlessly getting to her feet, Janet left the room. I took the opportunity to examine the cuffs. They were professional quality, in fact they were the same model that the FBI uses. I guess it should have been no surprise that these three had access to a good pair of handcuffs. A quick check of my pockets showed that my lockpick set was gone - along with my wallet, keys, and switchblade. Whoever had searched me had been thorough.

The headboard was pretty solid, but given time I could probably tear it loose from the bed. I would still be cuffed to it, but at least I'd be able to move.

Janet came back with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. She put them on the nightstand next to me. I considered making a grab for her, but decided against it. I had to find out what was going on - and maybe build a rapport with Janet. I just didn't see her as one of the bad guys. If I could get her on my side, or at least on the side of preventing her men from train-wrecking their lives, that would help a lot.

"So exactly how do you fit into this?" I asked once I'd taken some aspirin.

Janet was back in her chair. "You said Hank and Bolivar were my boyfriends. I guess that's close enough."

I drained the glass of water and put it back on the nightstand. "What's that like?"

Janet smiled at me. It was... beautiful. Janet's a fine-looking woman, but every now and then she does something - like smile, or brush her fingers through her hair, or tilt her head when she talks to you - and then she dazzles.

"It has its moments," she told me mildly.

I leaned back against the headboard. "I was in the Hellfire Club last night," I told Janet.

Janet didn't say anything, but she seemed to examine me carefully.

"I saw you with Hank and Bolivar," I continued.

Janet was still silent, but didn't seem upset or angry.

"I'm worried where that will go in the long run," I finished quietly. "You might end up hurt... or worse."

"Are you worried that Marie might hurt you?" Janet asked with a raised eyebrow.

I shook my head, "Most folks would say we're talking about different things."

A flicker of anger finally appeared in Janet's eyes. "Maybe 'most folks' should learn to mind their own damn business, Domino."

I held up my non-cuffed hand. "I'm not judging, Janet. After all, society doesn't exactly approve of how Marie and I live. But like I said, I'm worried."

Janet shrugged irritably. "Your concern is noted."

Letting out a sigh, I shook my head. "Okay, I've pissed you off. Sorry. Tell you what, since you don't want to talk about your love life, how about we talk about mine?"

Janet didn't respond. She just looked at me skeptically.

"When I was at the Hellfire Club last night, I was with Emma Frost," I told her.

The expression that came over Janet's face was somewhere between startled and alarmed.

"Emma had me on the end of a leash," I added.

Janet let out a long breath before speaking. "And you're worried about me? For the love of God, Domino! Do you understand what you're playing with?!"

"I know," I replied.

"How far has it gone?" Janet asked as she leaned forward in her chair.

And then words began rushing out of me. Until then, I didn't realize how much I had to talk with someone about Emma. Maybe Janet wasn't the best choice, but she was all I had.

"I love Marie, but there's something about Emma," I said - and I could hear the desperate confusion in my own words. "She gets inside of your head and then never goes away. Emma doesn't make any secret of the fact that she wants me, but with her you just never know. Does she really care about me, or am I just going to be another notch on her bedpost? She's so different from anyone else I've ever met. Does Emma even feel the way other people feel? Love like other people love? How much of her cold-hearted-manipulative-bitch act is just an image, and how much of it is really her?"

Janet just shook her head.

"I haven't cheated on Marie," I continued, "but Emma and I have come so damn close. I keep pulling away at the last moment, but I'm not kidding myself. Someday..."

I stopped. I couldn't quite finish.

Janet gave me a sympathetic look. "Stay away from her, Domino. Emma's poison. Poison in a very pretty package."

I couldn't agree with that. I've seen the obvious affection Emma has for Jean. I've seen Emma concerned about people in trouble. And Emma's helped both me and others when she didn't have to. Even Marie, who doesn't particularly like Emma, but has been in her head, says that Emma isn't as bad as she pretends.

That couldn't all be an act. Could it?

"She's a hard woman to know," I told Janet slowly. "So many people only see the image that Emma shows the world."

Then Janet looked me in the eye. "I know Emma Frost. She and I were together once."

I was still trying to deal with that when Henry Pym entered the room.

Pym tossed me something that I caught in mid-air. It was a key to the handcuffs.

I uncuffed myself and got to my feet, trying to hide how wobbly I actually was.

"Miss Thurman, please get out of my life," Pym said to me. Despite what he'd said, he didn't come across as angry. Instead, he just seemed tired and depressed.

I shrugged. "That sort of depends, Dr. Pym. I'd like some answers."

Pym gave me a ghost of a smile. "You pulled a gun on me and Bolivar. Then you wrecked a highly sophisticated and expensive machine with a five-cent pistol cartridge. Go away or I'll call the police."

I actually laughed. "If you were going to call the cops, you would have done it already. Something tells me that both you and Trask don't really want the authorities involved. But if you give me a few answers, then maybe I'll go away."

Pym thought that over. Then he nodded and leaned against the doorframe. "Ask your questions and we'll see if I have any answers."

"When Marie and I showed you that list of parts yesterday, you recognized them, didn't you? Even the ones that weren't yours?"

Pym nodded. "Yes."

"So you knew about Trask's robot?"

Pym shook his head. "Bolivar and I discussed a robot design. I thought it was purely theoretical. However, the parts on your list were right for someone building a humanoid automaton that fit our concepts."

"So all of the stuff on the list was for either you or Trask?"

Pym nodded.

"Are you a part of Trask's anti-mutant campaign?" I asked next, trying to keep any harshness out of the question.

Pym and Janet exchanged a look. "No," Pym said tightly.

A suspicion suddenly came over me. But I didn't say anything.

"How's ULTRON doing?" I asked - more as a distraction that anything else. I figured it wouldn't be a good idea to let on what I suspected about Janet.

"ULTRON is completely destroyed," Pym responded tightly.

I didn't respond. Frankly, I suspected that wasn't a bad thing.

"Okay, now I have a question for you," Pym said suddenly. "Who are you working for?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry Dr. Pym, but I can't talk about my clients. However, I'm pretty sure that he intends you no harm."

Pym cocked his head slightly. His eyes seemed to flicker as he considered the problem.

"Tony Stark," he eventually concluded.

Dr. Henry Pym was just as smart as everyone said. I kept as straight of a face as I could manage and didn't say anything.

"Are we done, Miss Thurman?" Pym asked.

I nodded.

"Then please get out of my house," Pym said very flatly.

"You have my guns, wallet, and keys," I pointed out.

"They're on the dining room table," Janet said.

Out in the dining room, I grabbed my stuff.

"Janet..." I began, right after I'd slipped my semi-automatic back in my shoulder-holster.

"Yes?" she said in response.

"Thanks for the save," I said - and I meant it. "I was in big trouble. What you did to Trask's robot probably kept it from breaking my neck."

Janet paused for a long moment before answering. "I don't know what you mean, Domino."

She wasn't a good liar, but I let it go. Even in this town, a lot of people with powers try to blend in with normal folks. And as far as I was concerned, that was their business.

"Your friends are waiting for you outside," Janet said.

That was good news. I began limping painfully for the door. Janet put an arm around my shoulders and helped me get there.

Marie and Jean were waiting for me outside the Pym residence. They were in my car and parked on the other side of the street.

Jumping out of the car, Marie met us half-way. Janet let me go, made sure that Marie had a hold of me, and then retreated back into the house.

Marie gave me a quick once-over to see if I was okay, then gave me a careful hug.

"You look like hell," Marie said with a worried shake of her head. Then she gave me a big kiss - doing her best to avoid the parts of my face that were bruised and cut.

"I went a round with a robot," I replied. "The robot was winning until everyone ganged up on it."

Then I gingerly kissed her back. Even my lips hurt.

Jean was behind the wheel. Marie and I got in the backseat. Normally, it's a good time when Marie and I are in the back of a car together. She's kinda randy for car-sex.

"Before you get mad," Jean said as she peered at me in the rear-view mirror. "I'm the one who convinced Marie not to go in after you with all guns blazing."

"Actually, that was the right move," I told her. "Whatever else Janet and Pym are, they aren't the bad guys. And Pym felt bad enough about what had happened that he was willing to answer questions. Turning the situation into a fight wouldn't have helped."

Jean looked over her shoulder at Marie, and gave her a long and level look that seemed to ooze 'I told you so'. Marie had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"Southern girls are temperamental and possessive," Jean told me with an exasperated shake of her head. "Pym doesn't know it, but I probably saved his life."

"Tell me about it," I said with a tired nod - just before I kissed Marie again.

Then a thought occurred to me. "When I went missing, you tracked me telepathically, right?"

Jean nodded. "It seemed like a good time to bend the rules."

"Did you read Pym and Janet's minds?"

Jean nodded again. She was becoming wary. I had to be careful.

"I know you have rules, Jean, but... is Janet in any danger? Is she being forced into what she's doing with Pym and Trask?"

Jean shook her head. "No."

"Okay," I said after a long pause.

"Sorry, sugar," Marie said as she took my hands in hers, "but there's just no damsel in distress here. Nobody needs to be rescued."

Back at the office, Sooraya damn near panicked when she saw my worse-for-wear condition. I sat down - slowly and carefully - in my desk chair as she dug out the first-aid kit. Then she and Marie began fussing over me. Actually, there wasn't a lot left for them to do. Either Pym or Janet had already dressed most of my injuries.

I found the thought of Pym's hands on my unconscious body to be more than a little creepy. But was that completely fair? I remembered how Pym threw himself into my fight with the Sentinel. He tried to save my life. Arguably, when he ordered ULTRON to destroy itself to knock the Sentinel for a loop, he did save me.

"What now?" Jean asked. She was sitting in the chair that faced my desk. Hassim was in her lap. He was studying Jean carefully. Jean was returning his gaze.

"Tony hired us to do a job and we've done it," I said. "I'll phone Tony and give him a verbal report. Then we'll write up something more formal and send it to him - along with a grotesquely huge bill. There will be a line item in the bill that will list your services as an expense. You'll be paid fifty dollars and I'll charge Tony a hundred."

Both of Jean's eyebrows went up. Hassim giggled at that.

"Not that I'm objecting," Jean said, "but the deal was for five bucks a day. At most, you owe me ten dollars. And if you go by hours on the clock, you only owe me five."

I smiled painfully. "People who help track me down after a murder-machine has knocked me out get a sizable bonus. Besides, I love milking Tony Stark."

"There's a mental image," Marie said distractedly as she applied some antiseptic to a cut on my jaw.

Jean chuckled. Sooraya had to think for a moment about what Marie had said. She blushed when she finally got it. She's really too innocent of a young lady to be hanging around with tramps like us.

Marie gave Jean and Hassim a curious glance. "So what's the little guy thinking about?"

Jean looked back down at Hassim. "Mostly, he's thinking that he'd really like to suck on my boobs."

"Typical guy," Marie and I chorused simultaneously.

Blushing even more, Sooraya abandoned me and plucked Hassim out of Jean's lap. Then she fled back to the illusionary safety of her desk and begin feeding her son.

"I think you're going to live," Marie told me as she screwed the cap back on the bottle of antiseptic and tucked it into the first-aid kit. That really wasn't my preferred way to apply alcohol to injuries, so I pulled a bottle and three glasses out of my desk drawer and poured the three of us a generous shot. Sooraya doesn't drink. I swear, she's too good for this world.

"But seriously, what are we going to do about Trask?" Jean asked as she sipped her whiskey.

"I'm going to have a talk with him," I said. Being a lot less ladylike than Jean, I slugged my drink down all at once.

"What are you going to say to him?" Marie asked.

"I'm going to tell him that if he doesn't get out of the anti-mutant weapon business, then I'm going to mention what he's doing to Logan and Erik."

Marie, Jean, and Sooraya all winced simultaneously.

I heal pretty quick - much faster than ordinary people. The next day, I still looked and felt pretty rough around the edges, but it was a lot easier to get around.

Visiting Tony, I dropped off both a written report and our bill. As usual, Tony paid immediately, in full and in cash. That's one of his more endearing traits.

My report only mentioned the Hellfire Club in passing, and I left out the wilder details of Pym, Trask, and Janet's personal lives. It just didn't seem like something I should be spreading around.

Back at the office, I made a phone call to Trask that was short, cold, and to the point. I gave him my ultimatum and told him I'd be keeping an eye on him. He hung up on me. For his own sake, I hoped he got the message.

Marie hand-carried Jean's share of the money to the University. Then I got an excited call from her. Jean was treating Marie to lunch and then they were going to go shopping together. They wanted me to come along, but I said no. I'm not very good at being a girl and Marie sometimes needs to spend time with someone who is.

Yes, I'd noticed how close Jean and Marie were becoming. And I'd made up my mind not to worry about it.

Sooraya went out on some errands and suddenly it was just me and Hassim in the office. And he was asleep.

I called Emma.

"Hi," I said into the phone.

And then I was somewhere else.

We were in one of Emma's illusions. She calls them 'mind-scapes'.

Emma and I were sitting on the cliff-side porch of a magnificent mansion. Below us, the ocean crashed and muttered. The day was bright and warm, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

Emma and I were both dressed for tea - in the kind of gowns that were all the rage among upper-class women thirty years ago. Her's was white, mine was midnight blue. In the real world, I'd never had the opportunity to dress like that. I was surprised to find that I rather enjoyed it.

Everything - the distant scent of coastal pines and new-mown grass, the call of seabirds, the hint of brine in the air, the play of shadows and light - was perfect. Emma is really good at that sort of thing.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "This is different from the usual."

Normally, whenever Emma takes me on one of her little mental vacations, I'm usually barely dressed - or just plain undressed - and assigned to some perversely exciting role where I'm serving one or more of Emma's quirkier desires.

"You've had a hard few days," Emma said with a smile that was almost as bright and perfect as the sun. "I thought it would be a good idea to dispense with the usual games."

Then she made a casual gesture that encompassed everything around us. "This is my estate on the California coast. It's south of San Francisco, near a town called Half Moon Bay. Someday, I hope we can visit it together."

"Nice place," I said with what I hoped was a casual nod. There was a cup of black tea in front of me. I picked it up and took a sip. I recognized it as something I'd had years ago in a Richmond restaurant. I'd loved it, but never got around to asking the waiter what it was. I'd tried to track it down a few times over the years, but with no luck.

"It's from Ceylon," Emma said. "A small plantation on the northern end of the island. It's sold under the brand name 'Myeria'. I caught you thinking about it that time we had lunch at the Broadmoor Hotel. I memorized a mental impression of the flavor and did some checking."

Okay, that was too much. I put the cup down with a slight clatter.

"What's going on, Emma?" I asked bluntly.

Emma shook her head. "This is an apology, Dom. And I'm very bad at this sort of thing. Please accept it."

I tried not to smile. That was a neat reversal on Emma's part. Now I was the bad guy for not being nice enough to poor, poor, Emma.

She's good.

"Apology accepted," I said easily. "And it will be doubly accepted if you do something important for both of us."

I'm also pretty good.

Emma gazed at me without saying anything, but she was wearing a tiny smile.

"There's a guy we have to keep an eye on," I continued seriously.

"Trask," Emma said with a slow and knowing nod. I figured Jean had given her most of the details. I hadn't bothered with telling her not to.

"He's a danger to himself and everyone like us," I said. "I warned him to back off, but he's a fanatic and I don't know if it registered with him or not."

"I doubt if it did," Emma added tonelessly.

"So we have to know what he's planning and who - if anyone - he's working with," I continued.

"I'll help," Emma agreed. Then her face darkened. "You understand that Trask could easily put us in a situation where we will have to deal with him?"

I nodded without saying anything. I refused to lie to myself about that. It wouldn't matter if I did it myself... or if I picked up the phone and talked to Logan or Lehnsherr. The results would be the same for Trask.

"Are you willing to go there?" Emma asked very quietly.

I looked Emma dead in the eye. "Yes. Are you?"

This time, it was Emma who nodded wordlessly.

I leaned back in my chair and scanned the ocean horizon. Damn, it was a beautiful day. And, of course, the temperature was exactly what Emma wanted it to be. So why did it suddenly seem cooler?

"Janet told me that she and you used to be together," I said.

Emma hesitated before answering. "Yes. Yes, we were. I met her a private party - a Bohemian event filled with young men and women who were doing self-conciously outrageous things as a way of rebelling against mommy and daddy. It was the usual toying with drugs, sex, and so-called black magic. Nothing too extreme."

Emma's eyes drifted slightly. "The others were just playing, but Janet was the real thing. She has desires that are quite powerful. We left the party together. Then she lived with me for about a year."

I didn't say anything. This part of the conversation was all Emma's show.

"I thought I'd found the one," Emma continued slowly. "The person I've been looking for my entire life. Somebody with needs that matched mine. But I was wrong. She eventually left me and took up with those two... creatures."

It was strange to see Emma mourning the one who got away, but I suppose fate has a way of eventually leveling all of us. Rich or poor, human or super-human, we all have our painful regrets.

"I'm sorry, Emma," I said softly.

Emma laughed bitterly. "Believe it or not, Dom, I introduced them to each other. Janet wasn't a member of the Hellfire Club, she was my companion and lover and attended as my guest. She would never have met Pym and Trask on her own. But one night, I introduced her and Pym on the assumption that they would find some passing amusement with each other. Within a matter of days, she began drifting away from me."

"You could have prevented that," I pointed out. Emma has a reputation for being ruthless with her psychic powers. It's not completely true, but sometimes it's pretty close.

"I didn't want a puppet. I wanted Janet," Emma replied simply. I could hear the pain in her voice.

The difference between how Janet and Emma recalled each other wasn't lost on me. And I suppose it was only human. Breakups always leave a legacy of pain, anger, and confusion. If you like the people involved, it can be a tough thing to watch happening.

"Does Pym know that Janet's a mutant?" I asked.

Emma gave me a long, long look. She was obviously surprised that I knew Janet was one of us.

"Yes," Emma finally replied.

"How about Trask?" I asked slowly. That part really bothered me.

Emma nodded her head slowly. "Yes. I imagine that provides something of an edge to their relationship."

"Jesus..." I muttered half under my breath.

I can't say that particular case has ever really ended.

Trask continues to speak-out about the 'mutant threat'. He also funnels money into organizations - both extreme and respectable - that back an anti-mutant agenda to one degree or another. And he keeps designing Sentinels. However, he hasn't actually built another one. At least, not yet.

Emma and I are watching. And waiting for the day when we'll have to act.

Hank Pym is working on his new ULTRON design, and Tony and I have talked that over. ULTRON II isn't designed to have an actual walking-talking body, but I'm sure that Pym eventually won't be able to resist. Someday, ULTRON II - or III - or IV - will get up off of a lab table and look its 'father' in the eye. What happens next is anyone's guess.

Tony and I haven't reached the same understanding as Emma and I have made about Trask, but we're still watching Pym carefully.

Meanwhile, Pym, Trask, and Janet remain together. I have no clue how that works. It just seems crazy, but then again, people are crazy. And we're particularly crazy when we're in love.

It's a part of us all.