The Freaks Reloaded IC Chapter three: the Game is On

New Orleans

"Your boss is in his car which you won't get within twenty feet of lest I crush you." Marshall wound his tinted-out window down and looked his accomplice in the eye with a sarcastic, evil smile. Marshall tipped his hat and blew out a puff of smoke.

"Get in the car." Marshall said, pointing to the Crown Victoria. As he said this, the other cars began to form up around Marshall's Chevelle. The Humvee took position in front of the car, and the two other Crown Victorias drove up to either side of it, leaving a spot behind the gold Chevelle for Cycon's car. A few moments later, two black Honda V4 prototypes drove up behind the Crown Victorias. They were ridden by two men wearing leather suits and tinted-out helmets. These motorcycles would follow a half mile behind the rest of the entourage and make sure that no one was following them. With the edition of two tiny white drones who flew five hundred feet above the others to watch the sky. Marshall always had this entourage no matter where he went, to ward off former victims or vigilantes with a taste for revenge, like The Raven. These days, Marshall was done being a villain.

Or was he?

(slight meta but It makes more sense this way Vipes. Sorry)

Santa Cruz, CA

After driving all through the night, Richard finally arrived in Santa Cruz, about 100 miles south of San Francisco and probably 20 degrees warmer. They had drivne through the night in Richard's Hummer to get out of the blizzard, as all flights had been cancelled. The boys back home, however, accounted for this and had the Facility's private jet parked in Santa Cruz instead of San Francisco. Storm had fallen asleep during the drive, and Richard almost had several times, though recovered before he could get into any accidents. It was about five AM when they finally drove through the gates of the airport and onto the runway, after an awkward conversation with a security officer who found himself incapable of speech after seeing Richard's face (or lack there of). They drove across the tarmatt to a smaller jet, about three quarters of the size of a Boeing 747. The plane was white, and slightly jet-shaped, having triangular wings instead of straight ones and a slimmer nose, which allowed for greater speed. One one side of the plane, in big letters, it said "United States Government" in navy blue. Upon arriving in front of the steps, Richard let go of the steering wheel and nudged Storm's shell with his elbow.

"We're at the airport". he said to her.

If Storm had been a normal human, she would have shrugged, "Well, I was wondering when we'd be there, but then again, it's not like I can get around that easily." With this, she used her tail to make her shell fall out of the car seat, and landed on the asphalt of the runway. She then slowly started to make her way towards the plane, although the pace was agonizingly slow. A few times, she veered slightly off course, due to her shell being far more rounded than an average shellfish, and therefore capable of rolling on a smooth surface. When she reached the plane, she found that she was having difficulty getting up the steps to get inside. Eventually, after several failed attempts, she made a strong gust of wind blow her into it. Afterwards, she simply sat there on the floor of the plane's interior, with nothing better to do except hope someone would pick her up and put her in a spot where she was unlikely to roll around. It was obvious that while she could summon powerful weather patterns, Storm's physical impairments were awful.

"Bye." Damon had replied solemnly before ending the call. He took a sigh as he closed the laptop and slid it into his bag. He had to go soon as well, very soon. The low drones of mostly silent vehicles outside the building was a clear representation of that fact - people were starting to move into the motel, people are going to be around, his face will be seen and his name might even get around, and he really should just get out of here. He has pushed his luck enough as it was already. Damon collected all of his possessions and appointed them accordingly amongst his bag or on his person. Everything pertaining to his computer went into the bag, his change of clothes went into the bag, his toothbrush went into his pocket (purely for intimidation methods for avoiding conflicts, as the handle was shaped as that of a knife's [he hid the brush end]), and various instruments and appliances.

The man was standing next to the door and double checked everything he had -yeah, everything up to the clothes on his back. He was wearing his typical white shirt, his brown leather jacket, he wore the esoteric raggedy, black, designer jeans, and his boots were on his feet. As far as he was aware, he cleaned up all of the potentially useful evidence of his presence here, and possibly the only DNA evidence here was microscopic dead skin flakes in the bed... which the employees should clean after his staying here. He honestly did not want to think about whether or not they did (as that would be disgusting). He opened up the locks on the door and quickly started pacing down the hallway. He head the ding of an elevator as its doors opened up to greet him, as if. He quickly rushed inside, almost bumping into a woman that resided in the pulley mechanism. He didn't pay her much heed, and mostly just noticed her caked face and large sunglasses.

"Excuse me, pardon me..." he muttered as he slinked away to the back of the elevator after pressing the ground floor button. Another look at the woman showed that she was dressed in all black leather. He couldn't help but wonder if she was a prostitute that someone called in... which some rather peculiar kinks, he might add. But he kept his composure and tried to appear as polite and inconspicuous as possible.

David Swiftwing, the plane's pilot, saw Storm roll into the airplane and stood there a moment, puzzled as to why there was a giant clam in his plane. Richard climbed up the stairs and walked into the cabin.

"That's our new mutant." Richard said.

"It's a clam". David said.

"Yes, yes it is. Now please escort our little clam to a seat please". David rolled his eyes and looked down at his US Air Force pin. He wasn't getting paid enough for this. But, he wasn't going to argue with a man who could fuse his heart chambers together so he picked up the (deceptively heavy) Storm and placed her on a seat. Richard sat down next to her and buckled a seat belt over her.

"So, I forgot to ask you." Richard said "What's your name?"

---

Valkyrie's eyes lit up and she sat in the back of the elevator, motionless, until the doors closed to the elevator. She walked up next to Damon, and shuddered when a single bee crawled out of his clothes. Valkyrie hated bugs, especially bees. She was stung by one back in grade school and it almost killed her. Nobody had told Valkyrie of Damon's powers, just his name, location, and that he was a criminal. Valkyrie walked up to the elevator and hit the stop button, causing the elevator to freeze between the third and second floor. She turned around to face Damon.

"You're Damon, right?" she said.

Meanwhile, outside, One of the Shelbies in the parking garage made a beeping noise like a car locking. The tiny microphone hidden in Valkyrie's hair had picked up her talking to Damon. Now was the time to move. Two of the Shelbies pulled out and a third stayed behind, relaying it's video feed to the others. One of the cars rolled onto he street and parked next to Valkyrie's car, and the second drove into a dark alley where it awaited her escape. They had their orders directly from Marshall.

Kill the bitch.

---

Marshall put his face in his hand and dropped the (now smoked) cigar butt out of his window. Cycon got into the car, as did the other men, and the entourage drove off, up an onramp and down the highway, heading for Mississippi. Marshall tuned his satellite radio station and turned up the tunes. As the song began to play, the motorcycles fell away about a half mile behind the entourage, and the Crown Victorias' hidden police lights lit up. Marshall wound up his tinted window and turned the music up a little higher. AC/DC; real music.

A sound that was most likely laughter sounded from the clam, almost hysterical. "Funny thing, my name was Storm, even before I turned into a giant shellfish that could control the weather. It's quite an ironic coincidence." Storm wasn't really happy having been trapped in a clam, but it was also quite easy to make humor out of her situation. After all, the fact that there was such an occurrence was hilarious. Eventually, the laughter subsided, "Of course, now that the introduction is out of the way, may I ask where we're going? I typically don't know where I'm going, so it's a bit of a luxury to be around people who do."

Richard chuckled a moment at the irony of Storm's name, and looked up at where David stood. He was talking to someone rather loudly on the phone, and slammed it down a few moments later, irritated.

"Course change." David said, rolling his eyes and taking off his sunglasses to reveal his yellow, hawklike eyes "We have to go to Texas to pick up another mutant. Some kind of cat lady".

"Excellent!" Richard said as he put his seatbelt on "I love cosmetic mutations!" With that, David stormed into the cockpit, taxied onto the runway, and took off into the warm Santa Monica morning.

Storm would have frowned, if she was capable of such a thing, "So we're going to go get another person that agreed to this, or is it another mutant that has no clue we're about to ask them the question? I'm not exactly a very good negotiator. The last person I negotiated with got electrocuted, because he tried to pry my shell open. It's just plain exhausting."

Damon was minding himself, taking great heed to not notice the woman beside him. He expected her to leave the elevator and he would be left alone to ride the elevator down to ground floor. Unfortunately, the chain of events did not follow that specific flow, and she sat tight and the door closed, isolating the two of them during what will no doubt be, to him, a very long trip down the elevator. He picked out some details of her from the corner of his eye: she had long brown hair tied back, she wore sunglasses, dabbed with makeup, she was geared in tight black leather, a great figure... Damon darted his eyes back towards his own possessions, hoping that nothing would come of this. It was silly, but the woman almost reminded him of some movie spy or something.

This woman, much to his chagrin, whether or not she was a spy or a prostitute had moved from her place halfway down the descent and pressed a button, abruptly halting the elevator. Damon squeezed his eyes shut and silently swore to himself as he heard her voice permeate in his ears. "You're Damon, right?"

He paused momentarily, look this woman up and down, averting eye contact with her until he had finally spoken up.

"Depends who's asking." He droned, leeringly looking at her with his eyes darting back and forth from her face to the shiny hand gun that was esoterically holstered on the side of her hip.

"Smart boy." Valkyrie swatted a rather angry bee away and it flew away from her. She paced around him a moment, and then began to speak. "My name is Rachel Bates. Like you, I am a mutant. I have been sent here by the United States Government to take you to an all-mutant facility in order to escape persecution by normal humans and hone your abilities to help others of your kind". With this, Valkyrie began to pace around the elevator more and took off her sunglasses, revealing hr stunning eyes.

Outside, a black Ford Crown Victoria drove up to the motel. Three men got out, and the car drove off. They literally ran through the door of the motel, sending wood splinters across the lobby. The doorman dove for his gun which he kept under his desk in case of robbery, but was silenced by a suppressed .9mm bullet to the head before he could touch it. The mean scrambled across the lobby, two taking up position at either side of the elevator door and one diving behind the counter, a high-powered rifle in his hand with the crosshairs aimed dead center at the door.

Damon found himself having a hard time believing everything the woman here was telling him. Firstly, her being a mutant, plus the very idea that she believewas sent by the United States government to find him and send him to a safely secured facility devoted to protecting his kind. Not to mention the fact he is being offered a chance to get his name cleared... but here she was. She knew where he was, and she knew he was a mutant.

"I don't believe you." Damon stated bluntly, noting some ruckus downstairs but payed it little heed. "First off, how did you manage to find out where I am? Secondly, police records has me charged with first degree murder and evading arrest, why would the government want me to help me escape persecution?"

What he did notice though was that a bee had gotten a bit comfortable and started scouting around the woman, whom he learned to be Rachel. Damon wasn't keen on giving a hint of what his... "mutation" (he preferred the term "curse") was. Damon followed the act of avoiding the flying bug, and even went as far as giving it a hairy eye before the bee flew off behind him into a corner, where he would send it a command to subtly crawl back into his ragged clothing.

Caden

New Orleans, Louisiana


Just another day. Caden had found himself in yet another crowded place. A mall on the outskirts of New Orleans. It was a few minutes from his home, and he just liked to come here when he was bored. There isn't too much for him to do these days except hope that something interesting happens. He was sitting on a large fountain with a golden painted eagle on top with it's wings spread gloriously and it's beak pointing towards the sky. Caden was wearing a white hoodie wrapped over his head with some of his dreadlocks hanging visible or in front of his face. He was wearing matching white sweat pants which had three black stripes on the sides. Today he had no cigarette, the mall has a no smoking rule. People were just walking by them, and Caden had no intention of having a conversation with anyone he didn't know. Unless they had a good reason.


Maybe he should go home and try to go to sleep.


These days were feeling more and more pointless ever since that incident with that girl, Cassidy--- or Lemontea as she liked to be called. A long time ago Caden and the girl lived in a large city named Miami. Years back when they had first met they had something going.... along with his other friend Cycon. Then all their powers came into the mix. It started out simple as talking to reptiles (Caden practiced it on Lemontea's pet Gecko) and evolved quickly to controlling most reptiles. Until he had discovered his true ability; transforming into a powerful hybrid of reptile and man. Lemontea's ability was far more... destructive. From what Caden could tell her mere presence affects the powers of those around her. She (inadvertently) caused Caden to lose control and go berserk. He nearly clawed her face off in his monstrous form and that moment still haunts Caden. After that she simply disappeared, and Caden's family was in a urge to leave Miami for New Orleans. He feels more than responsible for what happened. Which is why he plans on finding her...


... He's not sure of what he'll do once he finds her.




Lemontea

Benton, Pennslyvia



Lemontea was a smart girl. She decided to stray away from larger cities for several reasons, (she's a girl alone, and meta-humans were the top two). Sticking to the smaller and densely populated areas were the better idea, because for once it's quieter and she can easily slip in and steal some food and get out. Or, she can take advantage of the kindness of these schmucks by feeding them a sob story. For once those horrible scars on her face actually helps her. She was wearing a bright red hoodie--- hoodie would be a inaccurate term since the hood was torn off. Tattered jeans, that go down a bit past her knees. She was holding her book bag a few inches off the ground with her arm. She was strolling into Benton, in fact she just entered the town limits (indicated by the sign). She was going to repeat the process she does in order to survive.




Sylvia

New Orleans, Louisiana


Sylvia always liked to spend time outside after preforming at her job. She was sitting on a bench directly at the entrance to a park. As she had no intention of entering it at the moment. Just spend a few minutes out to breathe in the air.

"Damon," Rachel said as she continued to strut around the elevator "I'm CIA; we know everything. For example, we know that you've been dealing with Enrique Castro's body double Eduardo by giving him a virus that can delete every scrap of information from any computer in the world. I also know that there's a group of men in the lobby who would like nothing better than to kill us both, so I suggest we go up." At this, Rachel turned around and pressed the up button on the elevator. It started off going up towards the roof.


---


Baltimore, 10 AM

Ryan Romanski isn't exactly the most intimidating man on the block. He looks like a Genius Bar frequenter who spends his days at comic book conventions and the sci-fi section of the library. On this particular day, Ryan was sitting on the hard leather back seat of a black and yellow taxi cab. He looked at his brass pocket watch to check the time and straightened his glasses. Despite his normal appearance, Ryan was trying to look as tough as he could today by puffing out his chest and chewing on a toothpick, though his tweed jacket and vest kind of killed the vibe.

Upon arriving at his destination, Ryan stepped out of the car, handed the driver some money, and walked up a set of wooden steps onto a porch of a white single family home. Ryan knocked on the door three times, and then began to pace back and forth across the deck, waiting. He knocked again, a few moments later, and then began to pace, this time raising his buzzing smartphone to his ear.

"Hello?" He said in a dull voice.

"Hey Ryan it's Kransky". the voice on the other end of the phone stated.

"Oh hey Doctor Kransky!" Ryan replied, straightening up slightly.

"Are you at his house yet?"

"Yeah. I'm on the front porch".

"Okay good. be careful. I don't want you getting hurt!"

"Don't worry, doc. I'll-" Ryan was cut off by a creaking noise, and the pumping of a shotgun.

"I have to call you back, Doc." Ryan hung up the phone, and turned around, leaving his hands high in the air above his head.

"Get the Hell off my property." Connor Conrad said as he held the gun at Ryan's chest. Ryan gulped loudly and stepped back a few inches, his eyes not leaving the gun's tip.

"I said to go!" Connor stepped forward, and an ominous growling escaped the house, revealing that a dog was inside. This dog soon revealed itself to be an overweight tan English bulldog who looked about as vicious as a stale marshmallow. Ryan took a step back, and almost fell down Connor's porch steps.

"We need to talk Connor." Ryan said, meeting his old friend's eyes.

"We've talked enough! Now go!" Connor's hands shook slightly as he pointed the gun at Ryan, and his face was flushed beet red. The fat bulldog skittered over to Ryan's feet and began to bark like the devil.

"You can't keep hiding Connor!"

"Ryan, if you don't get your dirty, blood-trading @$$ off my property in ten seconds, I'm gonna kill ya!"

"Connor!"

"Five.....four..."

"Connor, let's talk about this!" The dog began to bark louder, and Ryan stepped back into nothing, causing him to fall down the steps and land in a stagnant puddle on his back.

"Three....two..."

"Connor, don't do it!"

"One!"

Ryan shot to his feet with superhuman speed and screamed "CONNOR NO!" His face turned beet red and Connor pulled the trigger, but no bullet came out. Instead, there was a loud metallic screech, and the shotgun disassembled itself mid-air. When Ryan finished screaming, his face turned back to normal and the pieces of shot gun went raining to the ground, where they chased the fat bulldog back inside. For several moments, Connor and Ryan's eyes locked in a stare that would have probably fried anyone who got in the middle of it. Finally, Connor looked down, and walked back into his house, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. Ryan walked away, breathing like an angry bull. He walked through the opened gate of Connor Conrad's property and simply kept on a b-line away from the archaic house.

Several hours later, a gold Chevelle surrounded by four black cars pulled up to a rotting Mississippi farmhouse. The land around the farmhouse was dry and dead and devoid of life. The cars all stopped at the same time, and men in black suits filed out of the cars, each of them wielding firearms of varying sorts. They surrounded the Chevelle as Marshall got out and closed the door of the golden car. He walked over to his head of security, a tall, thin, Greek-looking man wearing sunglasses and a black suit. The Greek man nodded, and followed Marshall close behind, a rifle in his hand.

"Cycon, come on." Marshall yelled over his shoulder as he walked towards the dead farmhouse.

---

[LOCATION EXPONGED]

According to all world governments, Subject 6 does not exist, nor does Area 225. Area 225 is built in the [REDACTED] Mountains near [REDACTED],USA. The facility is hundreds of feet above the ground, deep in a cave that tunnels deep into the mountain's granite core. The base is comprised of thousands of concrete corridors in a twisting labyrinth of doors and labs. Only base scientists know how to get to Subject 6's cell in the very center of the facility, and they all live on-site to keep them from telling another living soul that the base exists.

In the center of the base is Subject 6's cell, also known as Area 666, nicknamed this by the head scientist at Area 225. The cell is a 24ft x 24ft x 24ft concrete box, surrounded by twelve alternating layers of steel and concrete, each layer a foot thick. The only way into the cell is via twelve different sliding titanium-steel alloy doors which are opened individually using twelve different key cards. Each door closes after the person entering reaches the next landing in front of the next door, and can be flooded with hydrochloric acid if anyone ever gets in...or out. The outside of the cell is paneled with four-inch bulletproof glass, designed to shatter on impact into massive shards. The black grate floor around the cell can drop away to make anyone or anything on it fall into a pit of hydrochloric acid. On the outside of Area 666's door, there is a laminated sign that reads as so;

WARNING!

You are entering the most top-secret and most dangerous government facility that does not exist! Not following these simple safety precautions will lead to immediate termination or death;

1. NO long hair may be visible while in the cell.
2. All nails must be clipped down and all operatives must wear a pair of sanctioned quarter-inch antimaterial gloves while in the cell at ALL TIMES.
3. ABSOLUTELY NO SYRINGES, SURGICAL TOOLS, OR BLADED OBJECTS OF ANY KIND ARE PERMITTED. Any operative who attempts to enter this cell with any bladed objects will be destroyed with prejudice.
4. DO NOT show any hostile actions towards Subject 6, who may or may not be present in this cell.
5. Do not yell or make any threatening noises while in this cell.

Deep inside of the twelve-foor thick walls of Area 666, a black shifting shadow spun its way across the floor. In the cell sat a humanoid creature wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and jeans. It's face was covered by the hood, and was black as night, with no facial features whatsoever. The creature stirred a moment, and rose from it's uncomfortable cot in the back of the room. He used to have a nicer bed, but the monsters took it from him.

Carter stood up and walked across the scarcely-furnished room which he was now in. The furniture was all very austere and simple, with a plastic table nailed to the floor in the middle of the room with a matching plastic chair (also nailed down), a rough, uncomfortable cot, and a concrete shelving unit which held a few different objects like coloring books, crayons, and a beat-up leather diary. Carter shuffled uncomfortably over to the shelving unit and took the old diary down. He flipped the pages open to reveal that it's contents were poorly-written sentences and drawings that looked like they were made by a kindergartner. Carter put the diary on the table and sat down. His facial motions gave the appearance of smiling, and he began to write on a fresh page in red crayon;

Deer Diawy,

Toda I am feewing vewy sad. I am stiw sweeping on da bad bed dat da monstews gaave me, and my bak huwts. De beeg monstew saes dat mey speewing es vewy bad, an' dat I need to lern 2 speew buttr. Mayby eye cam gewt 1 of da monstews 2 teec me 2 speew.



At that moment, the last door into the cell clicked and a scientist walked in, accompanied by three security guards wielding assault rifles. Carter's ears perked up when he saw that it was Dr.Wexler, the only monster that had ever been nice to him. He got up and shuffled over to the doctor like he was a little kid. The security guards stopped him from getting too close to the doctor, and held him back cautiously.

"Lemme go! I wanna talk to the doctor!" Carter barked angrily at one of the guards. One of the guards stepped back and pointed his gun at Carter while the other continued to hold him fast.

Cycon

Show-time!

Cycon was sitting quietly during the entire car ride with his usual child-like expression on his face. Completely unaware of the true intentions of his employer(s). It was so interesting to ride around and beat the living crap out of mostly anyone who got in his way. Most of the people who even dared fight him got quite the surprise when they discovered his nigh-indestructibility. With his stretching abilities mostly all will be defeated with ease. If they didn't out strategize him--- which is fairly simple given his lack of intelligence. Cycon opened up the door quickly and started a slight sprint to catch up with Marshall until he was standing/walking alongside him. He laughed and said, "What are we doing at a dump like this?!" Before looking at the farmhouse.

"Finding a friend." Marshall said as he pushed past his security guards and walked towards the barn. The barn was empty inside, nothing but a few leftover strands of hay and an ever-present dust clung to the floor. Marshall walked around the inside of the barn for a few moments, and then left through the front doors. He began to walk towards an abandoned farmhouse in the distance, which was also covered in dust. Upon arriving at the crumbling white house, he kicked his way through a section of rotting fence and walked into the farm's smokehouse.

A blast of foul-smelling smoke hit Marshall in the face as he walked in the door of the smokehouse. The inside had obviously been abandoned, and dead pigs hung from the ceiling. Cuts of sausage, bacon, and other smoked meats hung as well, prompting him to grab a few rings of sausages, and a whole pig, which he handed two security guards to lug. He arrived back at the barn, and plopped the food on the ground.

"And now, we wait." he said.

At first, nothing happened, but eventually, over the horizon, something began to change. In the ground, there was a ripple, as though something were traveling beneath the surface. It was moving unnaturally fast, so much that it was too quick for the human eye to follow, a blur of movement. Eventually, the shape arrived near the barn, and something small, yet armed with alarmingly big claws, and needle-sharp teeth, burst from the ground, launching up a good distance into the air. It landed and charged out into the open, producing a shriek that sounded like a combination of the squeal of a hog, and the growl of a bear cub. Although the two sounds alone were not scary, the two put together, at an amplified volume, was alarming.

The tiny creature screeched and clawed about, forcing everyone to give it a wide berth, before it stilled, its nose twitching. It circled a bit, similar to a dog tracking something, before it turned to face Marshall and the small pile of food. Hildegard tilted her head to one side, sniffing, trying to figure out if this was a trick. This was not the first time she had been offered food, when it was actually a scheme to lure her so that she could be dispatched with a gunshot. However, she did not know if she was able to distinguish the gunshot. Yes, there were many people here, she could sense their heartbeats through the ground, but were they friendly? Their scent was strange. Eventually, she stopped sniffing, and gave a confused whine, like a puppy.

Marshall slowly but cautiously approached the beast. It was a beautiful beast, with mole-like features and plated keratin armor that shone like that of a medieval knight's.

"Everyone leave". he said solemnly. All of the guards filed out, and Marshall was left alone. He pulled his gun out, an old .44 magnum, and in a tense moment, threw it across the barn, where it slid under a skid that used to contain hay. He grabbed a ring of sausage, never meeting the beast's eye as he did so, and offered the ring to it cautiously. This was the most crucial moment of the entire operation.

Hildegard held very still for a moment, cautiously sniffing, trying to determine what had just occurred. Yes, the man had been armed with a gun, but he had taken it and thrown it far out of his own reach, and definitely ordered his own men to leave the barn. She was blind, but her power to sense vibrations formed a clear picture. Clearly, he was the leader of the group that had been present earlier. Now, not only had he left himself vulnerable, should she choose to attack, but he was also offering food. She thought for a moment, before tentatively approaching, and taking the sausage from his open hand. Once she tasted it, she was sure that it was not tainted with rat poison, and could be positive that this was a friendly gesture. She ate the ring quite quickly, before returning to the stranger, and nudging her nose beneath his hand and purring. For the longest time, she had not been serving anyone, but that was true no longer. She had a new master now.

Missouri

"Excellent!" Marshall patted Hildegard on the nose gently, and walke dover to where he threw his gun. Marshall holstered the weapon, and walked out of the barn, beckoning for Hildegard to follow him. Once out of the barn, Marshall signaled to his men, and they returned to their cars. Hildegard was led to the back of a Ford F-150, which seemed to pop out of nowhere. After making sure of his new pet's accommodations, Marshall got in his Chevelle, and the entourage left.

As he drove home, Marshall placed a call to his daughter, Irene.

"Hey honey!" Marshall said as soon as she picked up the phone "How's Texas?"

A Northern Texas forest

"It's going great, pops!" Irene lied as she drove down some backwood dirt road in a hardtop Jeep Wrangler. Irene wasn't exactly a woodsy person, and she hated being out in the wilderness with bugs and mosquitoes and mud and alligators and jaguars and possibly bigfoot. She shuddered as she drove past a splattered deer, it's torso crushed by a tire.

"Oh good darling!" Marshall replied, smiling as he looked down at a picture of his daughter that sat on his dashboard. "Excellent! Have you found her yet?"

"Not yet pops." Irene replied. She stopped all of a sudden, when she saw a little boy with a very grown-up face standing by the roadside. She smiled and stopped the car.

"But I think I just found him. Talk to you latter pops". Irene closed the phone, and pulled over to the side of the road.





Chapter 3: The Game is On



New Orleans

Dante Daymond wasn't what you expected your average government-agent-for-an-agency-that-doesn't-exist archetype. Whereas most agents wore black suits and carried enough concealed weapons to start three wars, Dante simply walked down the street like a very large average citizen, wearing a white polo shirt and blue jeans. On his head rested his trademark brown fedora, and at his hip rested a .45 Colt pistol which he very rarely used. Dante was happy with his job; it payed well, and he got to help out people like himself; mutants. He soon found himself on Bourbon Street, which was bustling with pedestrians and cars even though it was still daytime. Several drunken people shuffled down the street, smiling like idiots and giggling like schoolgirls. One guy even walked up to Dante and lifted his shirt up. Dante simply rolled his eyes and pushed past the drunks, continuing down the street. He was looking for a mutant known to be hiding in the city by the name of Lemontea. How he was to find her, though, he hadn't the slightest.


Texas

Richard left storm in the custody of the pilot and left off for the forest as soon as he could. He borrowed a Hummer H2 from the agency for it's four wheel drive, and was now rolling through the woods, looking for the next mutant. It was a shame that he didn't have a partner on this trip; it got lonely sometimes when you were searching for a mutant that you couldn't find. He continued to drive through the backwood forest, searching for a diamond in the rough, or, more likely, a jaguar in the ruff.

The Damien just looked up at the woman when she stopped the car and approached him. He was short, maybe only five feet tall, and he looked very young, although when he spoke, his voice sounded more like a teenager's. It was hard to judge how old he was by appearance. "Ma'am, are you here to help me look for my friend? I haven't found them, but they've been lost in the woods for days. I don't know where to look." Although he did not say his name, Damien hoped that this woman would assist him. In reality, he had no clue who this friend was, except that it was a creature that he felt was a lot like him. He didn't say how he knew, he just did. He just had a feeling about it, and he was pretty good with feelings. He knew this woman seemed to be happy, and most people liked to help when they were in a good mood.

"Okay..." Irene stepped out of the car and walked over to the little man. She looked around the woods, and shuddered as she stepped into a mud puddle, splashing mud all over her designed boots. She frowned, and then responded to the boy slowly.

"Sure I guess. What does she look like?" Irene added "I'm not here directly to help you, but I'm trying to find a friend of mine as well. Perhaps we're looking for the same friend". She smiled, and hoped that he knew what she meant.

Damien frowned, this woman was now suggesting something, he knew it. However, there was now something else, a connection, leading into the woods. It was more of a pull, but he felt it, all the same. "We talked, but I never saw her face. It wasn't clear, it was really dark. She's in the woods, and I think she's somewhere north of here. We had a lot in common, and I didn't even learn her name. She just disappeared, and I haven't seen her since." Damien, in reality, had just felt a strange pull, calling him to search the woods for someone. He didn't describe her face, nor her name, because he didn't know. "I think I know where to go, I think she's this way." He said. With this, he turned and started to head north, following the strange pull connecting the woman to the person he was searching for.


Kirra had been asleep in a tree when the sound of a Hummer disturbed her dreams. Cars...what on Earth are they doing in the woods? She thought to herself. Upon realizing the full truth of this thought, she was instantly alert, perched on the branch, her ears pricked up, ready to receive any sounds she heard. She hated cars, the smell they made from burning gasoline, and the way they crushed underbrush and scared away prey. It was a complete invasion of privacy, and it ruined her day. Whoever had come here, they must have been a complete idiot to think they could get away with depreciating the quality of her home with their nasty pollution. If it was another reporter or tabloid person, she was going to rip out their throat, just like any other creature that thought they ruled the forest. She was in charge here, and she was not going to tolerate strangers in her woods. Taking a deep breath, she let out a roar, which echoed across the trees. Savage, it carried a solid wave of anger with it, the feelings of a beast whose territory had been violated.

Irene perked up when the sound of the roar reached her. She smiled, and began to walk away from the boy in the direction of the roar.

"I think we've found my friend!" Irene yelled "Let's go!"


Richard stopped the car when he heard the roar. His hand immediately flew to his comically large gun, which was covered in a special polymer which Richard could not damage. He turned the engine of his car off, but stayed in it, as he wasn't going to fight a wildcat if he didn't have to. Hopefully now, the cat would come to him.

Damien followed the woman, but shuddered when he heard the roar. There was so much anger in it, fury, the kind that could have only been made by an enraged animal. Whoever he was looking for, there was something primal about them, something instinctive, and without reason. Most of all, there was the desire to dominate a foe, as though someone had intruded on their territory. "Hey, that roar sounded really angry, we should be careful!" Damien said, as he ran after her. He was excited at locating this person, but at the same time, it was dangerous to deal with someone who shared animal traits. Animals weren't very nice when they were backed into a corner.


Kirra alighted on the ground, seeming to have floated down from the trees, moving with a feline form of grace. However, as slow as the movement was, there was obvious strength, coiled and at rest. Kirra gave a deep growl, and looked at the Hummer, and the stranger with the gun. So, it was a hunter? He didn't smell like one. The scent of fear hung thick in the air, with the disgusting reek of car exhaust. Kirra's pale eyes glinted savagely, as she anticipated a challenge from him, one that would surely end with her as the victor. She did not speak, waiting for a reaction. Let her wordless silence torment him just a little longer.

Richard saw the jaguar jump down from the trees, and froze. His heart skipped a few beats, and he gasped audibly. He pulled the pistol out, but remained in the car, as if holding it would ward off the angry wildcat. For a moment, he debated whether or not to open the door. What if this cat wasn't the mutant, and was a real wildcat? What if it didn't possess any human reason in this form, and attacked him? Richard was sure that he could take the beast by simply melting the chambers of the beast's heart, but he didn't want to hurt it. Then he got an idea.

Richard slowly opened the car door, his hand shaking slightly. This was the first mutant in a while that he was actually afraid of. Richard had heard about how vicious wildcats could be, especially when provoked. He silently prayed that his plan would work, and stepped out of the car, facing the cat. He looked down at his gun, the only thing that would protect him from the cat without disintegrating it, and threw it across the road, into the brush.

"Hello there." Richard stammered "Did my car disturb you?"


Irene watched the transaction from behind a tree, which she had ran to as quickly as she could. She silently giggled as Richard threw the gun at her, and mind-spoke to him;

So you're a tiger tamer now, Richard? Irene mused to him in his mind. Richard looked around a moment, and exhaled deeply when he realized that Irene was talking to him.

Bad time Irene. he thought-spoke back. I'm kinda busy.