Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games

Note: Thank you to JabbyAbby, twistedservice, DMonkey1607, and Remus98 for Lee, Elena, Frederick, and Sybil, respectively.


Solution


Francine Temple, 43
March 15th, 07:27 PST

There had to be a better solution.

Francine rolled over and pressed the snooze button again, as if delaying her job a few more minutes would somehow make the whole thing disappear. It wouldn't, of course, but for right now, a few minutes of pretending was all she had. Pretending that there was something any of them could do to change what had been set in motion.

She had tried to stop it, right from the start. She hadn't been recruited for the MAAB because she'd wanted to solve the mutant 'problem.' She had just happened to be one of the leading experts on the Sentinels' technology. It was a new project, and that was all it had been, at first. A project. An experiment. She'd lost herself in the designs, the blueprints, the constant tweaking and adjusting here and there to make everything work right. It had almost been fun.

Maybe it was because she had been so wrapped up in her work that she hadn't realized, that she hadn't noticed when everything had started to go wrong. When the others had first suggested the idea of the Games, it had sounded almost like a sporting match. A way to display the mutants' powers. But the idea had grown, taken on a life of its own. The stakes of the Games had become higher and higher, and by the time the idea of a fight to the death had been proposed, it had seemed like a logical conclusion.

And the kids … She wasn't even sure now whose idea it had been to use kids. But that, too, had been irritatingly, inescapably logical. Younger, more inexperienced mutants were more likely to make mistakes, to let their powers get out of control. That was certainly what had happened last year. Hell, the youngest contestant had ended up being one of the survivors. And the other…

Francine shook the thought from her head. Their other survivor was gone. And if she had simply disappeared, that would have been one thing. Piper could have stayed under the radar, lived out the rest of her life in peace in whatever hiding place she'd found. Instead, she had been snatching potential contestants out from under their noses for months.

More frustratingly, she had help. Someone on the inside had been feeding her information. They had to be. There was no other way she could have known about some of their candidates. She could see the future, yes, but only a minute or two in advance, and only in the area around her. Someone was helping her.

Francine rubbed her eyes as the alarm went off again. She wasn't sure which was more aggravating – the fact that she wasn't sure who was helping Piper, or the nagging feeling that it should have been her. She was one of the people who had voted against the Games, after all. She should be the one trying to stop them – or at least derail them a bit.

But it wasn't her. And it wasn't Alvin. At least, she was pretty sure it wasn't Alvin. Yes, he'd been the other vote against the Games, but this … this just didn't seem his style. He'd been too honest, too upfront about his reasons and his reservations to start being covert now. The coaches were the other obvious suspects, but what they didn't know – what Nicholas hadn't told them – was that two of the mutants Piper had snatched away hadn't even made it to the point where the coaches had seen their files. It couldn't be them.

Or it couldn't just be them.

Francine shook her head. It should have been her. Sabotage was right up her alley. And if it had been up to her, she would have asked Piper to save a few of the younger mutants. The less powerful ones. The ones who had no business being in a fight to the death in the first place.

But it wasn't her. She had no way to contact Piper, even if she wanted to. And no way of knowing which of her fellow board members to ask about the possibility. Whoever it was, why hadn't they come to her? She would have helped them.

And that was the problem. Aside from the coaches, she was the first person Nicholas would suspect. Whoever was helping Piper, they had probably decided they couldn't risk involving her. If she wanted to remain a part of the MAAB, she had to keep her hands clean.

Right. Clean.

She had thought about leaving, after last year's Games. Now that they had a handle on the technology, after all, they didn't really need her. She could have walked away. Gone back to her life and tried to move on.

But she hadn't. Nicholas had asked her to stay on at least a little longer in case there were unexpected difficulties this year. Alvin had practically begged her not to leave him as the sole 'voice of reason' as he had put it. But ultimately, the deciding factor had been her own guilt.

She kept trying to tell herself she had no reason to feel guilty. She had voted against the Games. She had done her best to make her voice heard. She had failed. But she'd had her chance to quit, to storm off in disgust, to resign in protest. She hadn't done any of those things – hadn't even thought about doing them until after the Games were in motion.

Now … Now she had to make it right. She had to stay. She had to fix it. She had played a part, however reluctantly, in starting these Games. Now she would have to find a way to stop them.

However long it took.


Caihong Li, 25
Bend, OR

08:16 PST

Eventually, he would find a better solution.

Lee nodded crisply as his brothers, Shui and Chao, made their way towards the three of them who were already seated outside the small cafe. Beside him, Olivia was still yawning, and Marcus was rubbing the sleep from his eyes even as he glanced around anxiously. But Lee had always been a morning person, and his brothers … well, they were probably just happy for the chance to see him.

He did his best to let them know when he was in town, of course – but it was getting harder to do it without their father finding out. It was getting harder to go anywhere without getting noticed, without the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that someone was watching, that someone was looking for him.

It was probably all in his head. Chances were, working with mutants like Marcus was starting to rub off on him. When Olivia had first explained what she and her uncle were doing, it had sounded exciting. Helping smuggle rogue mutants through Oregon and up to Washington so that they could make their way across the border into Canada and start a new live – it all sounded like some grand, heroic gesture. But the truth was that it was just a lot of work. A lot of hiding, a lot of waiting, and a lot of paperwork, making sure the refugees like Marcus would have something to start a new life with once they got to safety.

Safety. Right. As if anywhere was really safe for someone like him, or someone like Marcus. Olivia and her uncle were taking a risk, of course, but at least they'd had a choice. He was a mutant, whether he liked it or not. Never mind that his power wasn't all that dangerous, or that he'd never even considered trying to hurt someone with it. Where was the harm in being able to drain a little color from something, or transfer that color to something else?

But that wouldn't matter to the government if they found out. It certainly hadn't mattered to his father, who had insisted that Lee conceal his power. And his mother … well, his mother probably hadn't even known that her son was a mutant. If she had, she certainly wouldn't have left him with his father.

That was all he had known at first – that she had left. It had been years before his father had explained that she had taken her own life … and even longer before he learned the real truth. It was Olivia who had finally told him the rumor that had spread – that his mother was a mutant who had run off to live in the wilderness.

For years, he hadn't been certain who to believe. But when his own mutation had appeared … well, that proved it, didn't it? He'd left his father behind, moving in with Olivia and her uncle, and had started a new life. Just like the other mutants he was trying to help. A new life. A fresh start.

Except…

Except he hadn't been able to just leave. His brothers were still here in Bend. His mother might still be here somewhere, hiding in the wilderness. Something kept drawing him back, every time he was in the area. So here he was, sitting at a cafe with his older brothers, who eyed Marcus curiously but said nothing. They knew better than to ask questions. The less they knew, the less they would have to hide. This was his work, his life now, and he didn't want to drag them into trouble.

Not that he'd ever wanted to be dragged into trouble himself, either. Not the way Olivia did, certainly. She lived for trouble. She thrived on it. The excitement, the thrill, the chance to 'stick it to the government,' as she put it, if only in some small way.

And it was a small way, in the end. He wasn't naive enough to think that what they were doing would really put a dent in anything. A mutant or two here or there wouldn't be missed. But for now, it was what they could do. They couldn't afford to take the chance of trying something more ambitious. Not yet. Not until they had more support.

Then they would find a better solution.

Until then, they would have to make do.

Just as Lee was about to call the waitress over to take their order, however, he saw Marcus quickly raise his menu to cover his face. "What is it?" Lee whispered as quietly as he could. What Marcus probably didn't realize was that trying not to be noticed had just made him that much more noticeable.

"Sentinels," Marcus hissed back, shielding his face. Lee stretched his arms, taking the opportunity to glance nonchalantly in the direction Marcus was trying to hide from. There were two Sentinels there, but they didn't seem to be taking any notice of the five of them. "Probably nothing," Olivia assured him. "Just act normal."

Lee nodded in agreement, but he could feel his whole body growing tense. Sentinels were becoming a much more common sight in larger cities, but Bend wasn't that big. What were they doing here?

And why were they coming towards the cafe?

Lee set down his menu. The Sentinels were a little too close for comfort now. "Okay." His voice was low, just loud enough for the others to hear. "Stay calm. We're going to get up slowly and head into the cafe. Pretend we're going in to find different seats or something. Olivia's parked on the other side. We get in the car, and we drive away – slowly. Don't draw attention. Don't—"

Before he could finish the sentence, however, Marcus was on his feet, darting towards the cafe, sending a gust of wind in his wake, blowing a few of the tables and a woman near the Sentinels backwards. "Or we could just run," Lee muttered as the others scrambled to their feet, racing after Marcus. He could see the woman near the Sentinels shouting something, but he couldn't make out her words over the wind, which was starting to pick up even more. Marcus was standing by the door of the cafe, waiting for them, sending gust after gust of wind towards the Sentinels.

Lee grabbed Marcus' arm as he reached the door of the cafe, pulling the boy along behind them. "Stay close," he hissed as the five of them wound their way towards the back exit and out the door. He could see Olivia's car. Maybe—

Olivia leapt into the driver's seat, and his brothers piled in alongside her. What were they running for? Lee shoved Marcus into the backseat and climbed in beside him. "Go!" he shouted as he slammed the door shut, but he could already see a hand – a giant metal hand – reaching into the car. "Duck!" Lee called to Marcus, and he quickly did the same.

But not quickly enough. The hand smashed through the door just as Olivia stepped on the gas, but the robot wasn't reaching for Marcus. Lee couldn't help a scream as the hand closed around him, dragging him from the car. "Go!" one of the others shouted, and Lee could see the car pulling away, even as the Sentinel lifted him higher into the air.

"Put him down!" ordered a voice. Lee clenched his fists as the Sentinel lowered him to the ground beside a woman who was holding some sort of collar. As he was still getting his bearings, the collar snapped around his neck. "Next time, wait for my orders," the woman grumbled at the robots before turning to Lee. "Sorry about that. They're efficient, but not particularly discreet. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

Lee raised an eyebrow, nodding towards the Sentinels. "Ask?"

The stranger grimaced. "Touche. I was trying to be polite. I've got a car out front. You can either come under your own power or not. Your choice."

It wasn't much of a choice.


Elena Burleigh, 21
San Francisco, CA

10:49 PST

Someday she would find a better solution.

Elena glanced this way and that as she and Astrid made their way through the crowded streets. It was always better during the daytime, when the streets were packed full of people milling about. She had always felt safer in a crowd, where there were more watching eyes. More eyes, but fewer of them focused on her.

It wasn't that she didn't like attention – as long as it was the right kind of attention. A friendly smile, a round of applause, congratulations for a job well done. She had always been at home in the spotlight, and had left home three years ago in the hope of becoming a DJ and music producer in the big city.

So far, most of her gigs had been pretty small-time. But she was making it work. She had an apartment of her own – no small feat in San Francisco – and was on her way to a wedding reception for a friend of one of Astrid's friends. Their first DJ had backed out only a few days ago, and the couple had been desperate enough to pay a little extra for someone to step in at the last moment. All in all, things were going pretty well.

If only she could shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

That was how it had all gone wrong one night. She had been walking home alone from her regular club – a cozy little place called The Second Circle. There had been a group of men following her. Or at least, she had been certain they were following her. She wasn't as sure now. Maybe they had simply been going in the same direction. In hindsight, it was easier to give them the benefit of the doubt.

In the moment, however, she had panicked. She had started walking faster. Faster. Trying to ignore a tingling sensation that was building in her fingers. By the time's nearly reached her apartment, she'd been at a full sprint. She'd raced inside and promptly thrown up in the toilet.

Only then had she looked down at her hands and realized that her fingers had changed. At first, she had thought she was hallucinating. She'd only had one or two drinks, but what other explanation was there for the fact that her fingers had turned to metal?

There was another explanation, of course. Her fingers really had turned to metal. She was a mutant. For weeks – months, really – she'd resisted the idea. She couldn't be a mutant. She didn't want to be. She just wanted to live her life, just like she always had. She wanted her friends, and her shows, and her music. Being a mutant … It put all of that in danger.

Didn't it?

It wasn't as if she'd wanted to use her power, or would use it for anything dangerous. She couldn't even control it – not really. Mostly it seemed to happen when she was nervous. Stressed. It wasn't something she wanted to do. What was the point in turning herself to metal? Well, maybe it would look pretty neat – her hands shining in the dancing lights of the club as the music played. It was only her hands that changed, after all. Sometimes her feet. But that was all.

But that would be enough, if anyone ever found out. It didn't seem to matter whether a mutant's powers were particularly dangerous. Anything could be dangerous in the wrong hands; that was how the argument went. They would be worried that she would use hers to … what? Fight? She'd never thrown a punch in her life. She'd never wanted to. Sure, there were creeps at the clubs sometimes, but it was always easier to just talk them down, or walk away.

But that wouldn't matter if she was caught.

So she'd done her best to make sure she didn't get caught. She avoided walking home alone at night – sometimes even during the day. The more she avoided stressful situations where her power might start to appear, the safer she was. So far, that had been enough. Maybe eventually she would come up with something better – a way to stop her power from appearing at all. But for now, at least things were under control.

"Thanks again for doing this." Astrid's voice shook Elena from her thoughts. "They were really worried they wouldn't be able to find someone who would come in on such short notice – and in the morning, too. Seriously, who gets married in the morning?"

Elena shrugged. "I like mornings."

Astrid chuckled. "You like everything."

"Not everything."

"Name one thing you don't like."

Elena grinned. "Math." Sure, she'd always been pretty good at it, but she'd never liked it – not the way her parents had hoped she would. Both of them had hoped that she would go into something traditional in college. Math, science, maybe engineering.

It had never occurred to them that she didn't want to go at all.

She hadn't told them that, of course. She'd simply told them she hadn't been accepted. The truth was, she'd been accepted at every school she'd applied to. But as good as she'd always been at academics, she'd never enjoyed it. She'd never loved it the way she loved her job – her life – now that she was away from all of that. She still loved her parents, but this was her life, not theirs. It was her choice.

A woman was waiting for them at the door when they arrived. "Elena Burleigh?"

"That's me." She'd changed her last name after moving to San Francisco.

"I need you to come with me." The woman gestured towards a large van that was parked nearby.

Elena shook her head. "I brought my own equipment over yesterday—"

"This isn't about the wedding reception, Elena."

What?

Elena took a step back. "What do you mean?"

"You need to come with me. I've already arranged a replacement for you; they should be here any moment."

"Why would you—"

"Please, Elena. It's such a lovely day, and such a nice party. If I have to call in the Sentinels…"

Whatever the rest of the sentence was, Elena didn't hear it. As quickly as she could, she turned and raced back the way she had come. Sentinels. That could only mean one thing. They knew she was a mutant. Somehow, they knew. Shit. Okay. Okay, maybe she could make it back home. It wasn't that far. She could grab a few things, catch a ride out of town, and then—

And then what? Go back to her parents? No. No, this was her home now. But if the Sentinels had found her here, they could find her back home. She had to disappear. Start again somewhere else, change her name, and—

Just then, a Sentinel stepped out from behind a nearby building. Of course they'd been lurking somewhere nearby. Elena screamed, trying to dodge out of the way as the arm reached down, clamping around her waist. She could feel a tingling sensation in her fingers, working its way through her hands and towards her wrists. Stop. She had to stop. Maybe she could convince them she'd made a mistake.

As the Sentinel carried her back towards the van, however, she already knew it was too late for that. If it had been a mistake, there would have been no reason for her to run. They knew. Elena clenched her fists as the Sentinel lowered her towards the van. Astrid was still there, watching. Staring at her hands. Elena didn't have to look down to figure out why.

"Are you happy now?" she asked, glaring at the woman who was standing beside the van.

The woman shook her head. "No. But for now, there's nothing either of us can do about that." She clamped a thin plastic collar around Elena's neck, and immediately the tingling in her fingers faded. The Sentinel let go, and Elena stumbled for a moment before finding her balance again. She shook her head, glancing around at the people, then at the van.

"What do you want with me?"


Frederick William Phillip Bouvy, 17
Bel Air, CA

14:12 PST

He was lucky his parents had found a solution.

Frederick leaned back on the couch, flipping through channel after channel. A news lady on one channel was saying something about mutants; so was a politician on a second channel. It seemed to be all that everyone wanted to talk about on television these days. Mutants this and mutants that. Dangerous mutants who couldn't – or didn't want to – control their powers. Mutants who had to be contained.

He was one of the lucky ones. He'd discovered his power at the age of six when he'd accidentally melted one of his toy cars. After a half-hearted attempt to pass it off to his parents as some sort of accident with the stove, he'd broken down in tears and told his parents the truth. He'd been terrified, worried that they would ship him off to a mental institution like his brother.

Instead, they'd started looking for a solution. A way to fix his problem. They figured out pretty quickly that he could only melt things with his hands. It took them longer to find the right material to block his power. But after weeks of experimenting with different materials, they'd discovered that his power couldn't melt through snakeskin. Soon, he had a pair of snakeskin gloves – as well as several extras in case the first pair became damaged.

After that, things had returned to normal. He'd returned to school, his parents explaining to his teacher that he had to be allowed to wear the gloves because of a horrible accident that had left his hands burnt. At first, he hadn't wanted to lie to people, but he certainly hadn't wanted to tell them the truth, either. And after a while, people stopped asking. Some of the other kids were curious, but most were jealous that they didn't have a cool pair of snakeskin gloves.

And every year at Christmas, along with his other presents, there would be a new pair waiting for him – whether he'd outgrown the old ones or not. It had become a tradition of sorts, a little reminder that they would take care of him. That there was no problem that couldn't be solved with enough time, patience, and money. Fortunately, his parents had plenty of all three.

Frederick flipped to another channel. Not everyone was that lucky, of course. There were mutants who simply hadn't found a way to control their powers. Mutants who were as much of a threat to themselves as they were to anyone else. They were the ones he felt sorry for. Some of them were probably trying, desperate to find a way to contain their powers. As desperate as he and his parents had been. They were a threat to other people, certainly, but they weren't the real problem.

No, the real problem was mutants who knew how to control their powers, but simply chose not to. Mutants who chose to use their abilities to cause destruction and chaos. There weren't many of them, certainly, but they were the reason the government was getting a bit carried away with their Sentinel program. Everyone else … well, they were just caught in the crossfire.

He did his best to stay out of it, of course. Aside from his parents and his housemaid, no one else even knew he was a mutant. When the subject of mutants came up at school, he avoided it – or quietly pretended to agree with what his friends were saying. They were just afraid. When they said that all mutants should be locked up or deported or … or worse … they were talking about the dangerous ones. The ones who were really a threat. They weren't talking about mutants like him.

Were they?

Frederick shook the thought from his head. They didn't know. None of them had any idea that they were friends with a mutant. If they did … if they realized that some of them – most of them – were just trying to live normal lives, then they would understand.

But he couldn't tell them. Because if even one of them let it slip to the wrong person, then the government would find out. Then he would have to register, and … what? What would they do to him? He'd heard, occasionally, about mutants simply disappearing, but that was for their own good, wasn't it? They were being taken somewhere where they couldn't hurt anyone else – or themselves.

"Frederick?" his father called. "There's someone at the door asking for you."

Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Who is it?"

"She says she wants to talk to you."

Frederick shrugged and headed downstairs. At the door was a woman in a sharp-looking suit. "Frederick Bouvy?"

"That's right. Frederick William Phillip Bouvy."

"That's quite a mouthful."

Frederick chuckled. He got that reaction a lot, but he liked his full name. There was something sophisticated-sounding about it. "What's yours?" he asked.

"Francine. Francine Marie Temple, but just Francine will do." She glanced behind her, as if expecting someone else to show up. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me, Frederick."

"Why?"

"It's about your mutation."

Shit. Okay, he could still play it cool. They couldn't know for sure – not really. Maybe they suspected, but…

"What mutation?"

"Please don't play stupid. It's been a long day. Just come with me, fill out some paperwork, and we'll have you back before supper."

"That's it?"

Francine nodded. "Look, kid, we can see you've got it under control. Keep wearing those gloves, and there won't be a problem. Just a little routine paperwork, and you're good to go. So what do you say?"

Frederick's father shook his head, stepping between the two of them. "He's not going anywhere with you – not without us."

Francine shrugged. "Fair enough. He's still a minor, after all. Frederick, you come with me; your parents can follow in their own car. That way, you can get a start on filling these out." She handed him a stack of papers and headed towards the van that was parked out front. Frederick turned to his father, who still looked reluctant but grabbed his keys and headed towards the garage. Frederick climbed in the passenger seat of the van.

Immediately, Francine pulled out of the driveway. "Wait!" Frederick called, fastening his seat belt. The garage door was still opening. "How's he supposed to follow us if—"

"You've got a GPS on your phone, don't you?"

Frederick relaxed a little. "Right. But what's the rush? I mean, there can't be too many people waiting to fill out paperwork on a Sunday, right?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you."

Frederick brightened. "You mean I might get to meet some other…"

"Some other mutants?" Francine smiled. "Absolutely."

Frederick nodded, but his heart was pounding. As far as he was aware, he'd never met another mutant. The idea of meeting someone else like him … Maybe it was a good thing the government had found him, after all. If all he had to do was fill out some paperwork, then maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

Maybe he'd been worried over nothing.


Sybil Herveaux, 21
Los Angeles, CA

15:06 PST

This arrangement was the best solution for everyone.

Sybil leaned forward in her chair, letting a little starlight weave its way through her hair as the pair of them ate. Isaac had invited her to a late lunch at a cozy little cafe on a surprisingly uncrowded beach. He could always find the perfect places to give them a little space, a little privacy. It was sweet, wanting to be alone with her, and it lowered the chances that they might run into Virgil.

Not that Virgil would be in much of a position to complain, if he ever discovered that she was also seeing Isaac. After all, Virgil had a wife and children at home. If he was having a little fun on the side, there was no reason she shouldn't be able to do the same. Besides, she'd been with Isaac since high school. If anyone was a little 'fun on the side,' it was probably Virgil. She respected him, and being in the good graces of a prominent television host was certainly useful, but she could never love him quite the same way she loved Isaac.

But that was all right. She didn't need to love them the same. She was happy with the arrangement she had with both of them, although she occasionally got the impression that Virgil wanted more. That maybe he was even ready to take the next step, to leave his wife and children and run off with her. But she couldn't have that. If he did that, his reputation would be ruined, and his usefulness would be … if not gone, then certainly diminished.

No, things were better just the way they were. She certainly had no cause to complain. Everyone got what they wanted, and if others were getting it, too … well, all the better, right? Sybil took another bite of her dessert, gazing out at the water. "Well, look at that."

Isaac turned to look. Sybil flicked her wrist a little, and beautiful shades of pink, blue, and purple began to dance on top of the nearest waves. Isaac grinned, watching as the colors drifted back and forth, almost as if they had a life of their own.

They didn't, of course. She was controlling the colors, the starlight she had learned to conjure at a fairly young age. Maybe it wasn't the most useful power, but it was fun, and it was harmless. A few colors here, a dash of light there. A little splash of starlight mixed in with her usual makeup to make her even more irresistible. There was no harm, no reason not to experiment. Even if the wrong people eventually found out, there was no reason for them to fear what she could do. The starlight wasn't even tangible, after all. It tickled, sometimes, but that was all.

Still, there was only one person she'd ever told about her gift, and he was sitting in front of her, smiling, almost hypnotized by the way the light was dancing on the water. "It's beautiful," he breathed at last. "And so are you."

In an instant, he was by her side, wrapping her in his arms, his lips pressed against hers. Yes. Yes, this was the way things were supposed to be. This was where the two of them belonged, wrapped in each other's arms, watching the starlight dance on the water. It was so simple, so perfect. So many people had lost sight of that – the simple perfection of a man and woman together, the way things had always been. The way things were supposed to be.

"Sybil Herveaux?" A voice broke through her train of thought. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

Sybil glanced up, and two things immediately sprang to her attention. The first was the woman in front of her, her hair pulled up in a bun, her navy blue blazer and slacks screaming 'business.' What was she doing in a restaurant like this on a Sunday? Did her husband know she was here? Sybil could see the ring on her finger. Sybil almost chuckled.

But she didn't, because the second thing she noticed was that almost everybody had left the restaurant. Only a few people lingered at one of the tables in the opposite corner, chatting quietly. "Can I help you?" Sybil asked, standing up. Isaac followed suit.

"My name is Francine. I need you to come with me."

"Why?"

"Just a little quick paperwork. We know about your mutation."

Sybil took a step backwards. "My what?"

"Your mutation. The starlight on the water – that's a pretty neat trick."

Sybil forced a laugh. "You're making a mistake. I was just pointing out how beautiful it was, and—"

"No, you weren't." There was no doubt in the woman's voice. Shit. How could they have found out? There was only one person she'd ever told, and—

Sybil turned to Isaac. "Did you … did you tell someone?"

He hesitated. Only for a moment, but that was enough. Sybil took a step back. Then another. "Why?"

Isaac's face was, for the first time, unreadable. Or maybe this was simply the first time she was reading it. "I had to," he answered flatly. "It's my job."

"Your job?"

"You were my assignment. I've been keeping an eye on you ever since high school, and when I heard they were looking for contestants with eye-catching abilities for some sort of game … Well, it doesn't get more eye-catching than what you can do, right?"

Slowly, the pieces fell into place. A game. A game with mutants. She turned to the woman beside her. "You're with the government. That business up in Alaska last year – that was you. And now you're doing … what? Something similar?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're quick. None of the others quite put it together yet."

"I'm not like the others."

"Clearly. So I'm sure you'll understand why it's less trouble for all of us if you come along quietly."

Sybil hesitated. The stranger was trying to flatter her into cooperating; that much was obvious. But she was also right. There was no point in trying to fight – not when there was no one here to help her. She had no doubt the woman wasn't alone; she probably had some Sentinels waiting outside as backup. And Isaac didn't seem the least bit interested in helping.

Okay. Okay, maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe she could use this. The experiment last year had been televised, after all. Maybe there was some way she could use that to her advantage. But that wasn't likely to happen unless she at least appeared to be cooperating. Once they got wherever it was they were going, there was certain to be someone who could help her.

Someone better than Isaac.

Sybil forced a smile. "Of course. Wouldn't want to get the customers upset by fighting things out here. I guess we'll have to save that for later." That was what had happened last year on the island, after all – a fight.

Well, quite a few fights.

Sybil followed the stranger out of the cafe and towards a large van. The woman handed her a thin plastic collar. "I'm going to have to ask you to put this on. Just a formality, really; your power certainly isn't dangerous, and I'll leave it turned off as long as I can."

Sybil nodded and slipped the collar around her neck. The woman was trying to be polite. Maybe even trying to be kind. That was her mistake, and Sybil wasn't about to make the same one. Kindness wouldn't get her anywhere. If she wanted to get out of this alive, she couldn't afford to be kind.

But that wouldn't be a problem.


Francine Temple, 43
Calpet, WY

18:35 MST

"Any problems?"

Francine shook her head as she stepped off the plane. Judah was waiting for her there; he'd probably been one of the first to make it back. She didn't particularly like Judah, but even she had to admit that he was nothing if not efficient, and he was very good at what he did. It was just that what he did…

Francine shook her head. He had spent his day doing the same thing she had. What they were doing … maybe there wasn't so much of a difference between them, after all. Sure, she had more doubts, more reservations, but what if that didn't really matter in the end? What if all people knew – all they remembered about the MAAB – was what they had done?

What she had done.

"Who else is back?" Francine asked casually, or, at least, in a voice that she hoped sounded casual. Normal. Not that there was anything normal about what any of the were doing.

Judah smiled as they headed towards the back of the plane. "You're the fourth one so far. Lilian beat me back, and Hans got here a little before you did. Nicholas is on his way, but it sounds like Mack and Alvin are going to be a bit later.

Francine nodded. "No problems, though?"

Judah chuckled. "Don't sound so hopeful. Everything's going according to plan, for the most part. Picked up an unexpected surprise, but nothing we shouldn't be able to handle."

Francine raised an eyebrow. "Unexpected surprise?"

"An extra contestant," Judah explained. "Nothing to worry about. You said there were plenty of extra collars."

Francine shook her head. "Collars, yes, but that doesn't mean that we're prepared for extra contestants, or the complications they might cause. What sort of power are we—"

Judah cut her off. "He says he's unlucky. Not sure what sort of a mutation that is, but I can't think of a good reason why he'd lie about something like that."

Francine nodded, taking that in. Bad luck? How were they supposed to account for what might happen because of that? That could mean anything. "Can I talk to him?"

Judah shrugged. "Don't see why not, but I'm not sure he'll be able to tell you much. Doesn't really seem to understand how it works himself. For the most part, he just seems happy it isn't working right now."

Francine nodded. "And during the Games?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if he'd rather have the collar turned on, what happens during the Games? Do we keep it on, or turn it off and see what happens?"

"Not my call," Judah reasoned. "Can't see where it would matter much one way or another. The kid's in pretty bad shape already, physically and mentally. Can't really see him lasting long, bad luck or not."

"Then why is he here?"

"Because he wants to be."

"What?"

"He volunteered. Stowed away on the plane, agreed to stay willingly. He doesn't know exactly what he's volunteered for, but the idea of someone choosing to be in the Games – that's something we can work with."

Francine shook her head. "That's what we've been telling people all along – that they volunteered for this as an experiment."

"But this time it's true. We can use that. We'll just have to find the right way to spin it. We'll have to wait for everyone to get back, but I think we've got something here."

Francine watched silently as Judah headed for the back of the plane, ready to escort their new arrivals inside. He was right; they certainly had something.

But was it something they wanted to have?


"Do you want vengeance or a solution?"