HEROES Chapter 8

Yelena was saying very little as she helped Tim load up the jeep. Tossing boxes of ammo, more guns and other weapons as well as some grenades to Tim so he could secure them in the jeep, she let him and Toril talk things out between them. IN reality, she was terrified she was about to get caught and deported. Tim, of all people, knew how much that frightened her more than anything right now. While he didn’t know exactly what had happened to her when she was deported the first time, he knew what ever it was caused her to change drastically. Still, he respected her enough to never ask her what and she appreciated that more than she could ever voice in words. As the jeep was finally ready to roll, she looked over at Toril and Tim both as she hopped into the back seat.

”You two done planning future so we can move out now? Or should I give more time to get to know each other better? I could go find Kate and have tea with her if you need privacy.”

It was all she could do to not smile and even as the men looked at her she felt the corners of her mouth starting to tug upwards into a devilish grin. It was a serious situation they were in, yes, but it wasn’t their fault. It was Morgan’s and she knew it as sure as she stood leaning on the roll bar of the jeep looking down at the men.

”I believe ‘Let’s Roll’ is good thing to say now. Yes?”

Toril was taken back by Tim's question. "No. No I don't." he answered with a wide smile, "I know which ones taste good."

The big man placed his heavy load on the ground then began to effortlessly place the military style cases and crates into the back of the jeep alongside Cowboy. "I can swing a hammer, that's about it." Toril added, "Once we figure out how to counter act the effects of the serum and that signal, I'll come back here and give ya hand rebuilding."

He slid in the last case and stood back, surveying the load like an artist admiring his latest work. Curious about the time, he dug into his back pocket for his phone and remembered that he had instinctively turned it off when he jumped into Stubby's dune buggy. As the screen lit up, several alerts from the same caller came up. He had a satellite link, and there weren't many places on the planet he couldn't get a signal, and Slate knew it, which why he had been so persistent.

Toril chuckled. "Looks like, Sigma's been tryin' to getta hold of me, all morning. I tell ya, Tim, these things are great about ten percent of the time when you really need to get a hold someone, or check something out, but the other ninety percent, they're a big pain in the ass. Excuse me." He hit the speed dial for Sigma and put the device to his ear.

"Devon? What the f**k? I've been sittin' around here wonderin' if R.A.I.D. nabbed ya or somethin'" Grumbled Slate.

Toril rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sorry about that. Gotta a little side tracked. I'm here with Cowboy and Chameleon."

"Holy shit! Really?"

"Yeah. Thought I might need some back up."

"Good thinking. That's why I was trying to get a hold of you. I have bad feeling about this Doctor Jacobson. It's not like R.A.I.D. to leave any loose ends dangling. If he's played a big as role in this as you seem to think, they're definitely keeping tabs on him."

"Duly noted." Wraith concurred, "How are things down there?"

"Oh, same ol', same ol'" Replied Slate as he leaned back in his chair to turn on the coffee maker beside his computer desk. He had them everywhere it seemed. Some had been set to go for some time but quite often he got distracted and simply forgot their location, only to rediscover them weeks later. "The cities holding its own."

"Good. Say, wanna do me a favour and use your R.A.I.D. credentials to check on Jacobson?" Requested Wraith.

"Way ahead of ya. Been searching all morning and so far I've come up with a big fat zero. That's what raised the hairs on the back of my neck. R.A.I.D. has his files locked tight. You need level seven security clearance, that's almost on heard for an outsider. You watch yer ass."

"You too."

"And keep yer f**king phone on!" Growled Sigma.

Toril just laughed. "Well, it looks like R.A.I.D. is keeping an eye on our target. Things are probably going to get a little harry." he said to Tim as he ended the call.

That's when Yelena called back to them, with an impatient tone to her voice. Seems she wanted to get a move on already, and Toril was inclined to agree. "Yes, let's 'roll out'", he added looking over to Tim as he jumped into the passenger seat.

"You sure you're up for this?" Toril asked Yelena, "You seem a little tense. Is anything wrong?"

Morgan made it to the door when a her foot was grabbed and she went down hard, the wind getting knocked out of her. She scrambled to grab onto anything as she was pulled back. Flipping herself over, she looked into the enraged face of the biker, his nose at an odd angle, blood caked on the lower half of his face. "YOU F****NG BITCH!!! YOU BROKE MY NOSE!!!!! I'M GONNA KILL YOU REAL SLOW!!" The smile he gave her sent chills down her spine and she kicked out with her foot again, catching him in the mouth, feeling teeth breaking as he howled. She kicked again, catching him in the side of his head. Pulling at her hard, he rolled her towards the wall and got to unsteadily to his feet. His eyes were crazed as he looked at her and began to walk towards her. She got to her feet as well and took a defensive stance, remembering everything she'd been taught from her Aunt Jackie and the others on the reservation. Her lavender eyes darkened to a deep purple and became hard as she turned off her emotions. When the biker rushed her, she rolled out of the way just as he was on her, the man slamming into the wall where she'd just been. She came to her feet as smooth as a cat and crouched down.

The biker turned around, facing her....."I'm gonna enjoy ripping you apart, bitch!!" He charged her again, only this time she met him with a blow to his throat, crushing his windpipe with the force of the blow. She finished with a roundhouse kick to his head, the biker falling over. She didn't wait to see if he was moving, she just ran for the door and out into the hot Texas sun. She stopped and looked around. It looked like warzone and when she looked to where her ATV was, she saw that it wasn't taking her anywhere. It was scorched, the tires flattened. She looked down at her leg and side and then back over the destruction and finally up at the sun. Taking a deep breath, she started walking, not sure how far she would get. She hoped she was heading back to town.

Before, Yelena could reply Toril turned his head toward the faint, distant sound of a scuffle emanating from the battered barn. He didn't hesitate. Unable to assume his convenient wind form, he took off on foot, but since there were no witnesses kicking about let his instincts kick in and took to flying. In what appeared to be one great leap he sailed through the air and blew through open hay loft doors, land softly on the a rafter, perched like some great bird that neither of the struggling people below him took notice of. Wraith recognized the smaller one right away, to be Morgan and instead of intervening sat back and watched the fight as it played out.

Morgan's attacker was a real animal, but nothing Wraith himself couldn't take apart in a matter of moments, but this wasn't his fight, it was hers. It was time for the girl to learn how to rely on the physical enhancements that made her different. Faster reaction time, stronger bones and denser muscles gave their kind an advantage, but strength alone did not turn the tables in a fight, especially when up against an opponent experienced in combat. Apparently she had already gotten the better of the biker. A broken nose severely hindered a person's perception, it made the man clumsy but he was determined to get his revenge and made the mistake of misjudging the meta-human's strength and speed. He literally walked right into her throat seeking punch and was sitting duck for the girl's finishing blow.

When she ran out of the barn, Wraith silently followed, hovering down and softly landing a good distance behind the girl. He still had no idea, who she was and so Wraith wanted to have some room for a ranged attack if she was indeed, Sasha.

"Not bad." Came a voice from behind her. A deep voice with a very slight Norwegian accent that popped out every so often. She recognized it right away.

"You've improved, but you still gotta a lot to learn about fighting." Toril advised her as Morgan turned around to face him.

The tall, blonde haired man wasn't exactly dressed as she remembered. In fact, he wasn't wearing a costume at all. He was dressed kind of like a lumber jack, and for the first time, Morgan saw his face, but she knew who it was.

"So who are you? Last time we saw one another you were in a struggle with that 'psychic manifestation', Sasha. Is that you Morgan?" Asked Wraith, and along with his inquiry she could feel the winds picking up around her, tossing their hair about as the wind master prepared for a battle.

Morgan stopped dead in her tracks when she heard the voice behind her and slowly turned around. She smiled upon seeing Wraith, a part of her wanting to collapse in relief, but the other part of her...the part that was now stronger, stood tall. Then he asked her if it were truly her and she looked puzzled until he mentioned Sasha. Her smile disappeared and her lavender eyes hardened a little when the wind picked up. They didn't harden to the point of coldness, just of one who would no longer be a victim...who would fight if she had to and fight to win. She hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

"It's Morgan, Wraith....Sasha is dead. I never got to thank you, though, for keeping me alive. You saved my life after my father.....after what Frank did to me." She noticed that he was keeping his distance and knew that he didn't believe her, but she didn't have a way to prove to him that she was Morgan and not Sasha. So, she opted for the truth, letting him see her eyes so that hopefully he would know she wasn't lying to him. "I killed Sasha after she attacked my aunt and uncle, killing my uncle. I don't know how to prove it to you, but she's dead. And I wish now that I hadn't been the one to kill her." She said no more...not sure if he would believe her if she told him about now being able to call the various insects as well as her animals. How she prayed every night for the Great Spirit to take this new ability from her. How she fought against using it.

When he continued to stare at her, she sighed. "Tim told me not long after we met that I was welcome to come to his ranch and share a rocking chair with him on the porch. After....after killing Sasha, I thought long and hard about what I was going to do and remembered what he'd said, so I thought I would come down and see if the offer was still open."

Morgan knew she looked a little different...a little harder, a little leaner and the small scar on the side of her face, near the corner of her eye didn't help matters, but she prayed that he would believe her.

Yelena remained silent, as Tim started the jeep, shifted it into first and headed down the passageway. at ajuction, he turned right and followed a branch of the tunnel that brought them to a wooden ramp. Tim stopped at the bottom of the ramp, pressed a button under the dash and a section of the barn floor at the back of the barn, at the far doors that opened as the floor raised. Tim drove the jeep up the ramp and out of the doors. It was then that Toril's head turned and he jumped out of the still moving jeep. As he ran back towards the barn he said. "You two go on, I'll catch up with you latter." ..... Tim said. "The Harley's in thar sum whars." Tim then added "That thar boy jus' can's sit still." .....Tim, looked at Yelena as she moved up to the passanger's seat. "Buckel up, this might be a bit ofa bumpy ride. An' I'd right hate ta hav' ya fallin' out." Tim then shifted into second, up through the gears and headed southeast out across the ranch.

Wraith's eyes began to blaze with an ominous bluish glow and the winds continued to rush through the young woman's hair. If he had registered anything that she had told him, the large man did not show it. He took a step toward her, then another and another. His strides were long and purposeful, his face chiseled with concentration.

The girl stood her ground. Standing before her, barely an arm's length away she had to tilt her head back to look up at the man. Towering more than a foot above her, she knew his densely muscled body bore the strength to crush one of her stature, even with her enhanced physique. Ice blue eyes alive with a fiery glow burned into hers. His hands tightened into fists remained tense at his sides but at any moment they could strike with a speed customary of their kind and she would have to react with inhuman dexterity to avoid being struck by one his thunderous blows.

The powerful hero of old continued to search her eyes, then as if he had the girl's silent prayer the eerie blue halo of his gaze faded and his stare softened. The winds instantly began to calm and Wraith turned away to survey the carnage about them. He opened his mouth to comment but he seemed to be at a loss for words. What could he really say about the bikers. One might assume they followed, Morgan but then again, they could have already been onto Tim's scent, who knows. What Wraith did know, was that he was just as much to blame for pissing them off back at the Jack Rabbit as, Morgan was, maybe more so. They came for blood and Rutherford gave it to them and then some, but they were looking for something else as well.

Wraith then turned back to Morgan. She was different. Stronger; hardened maybe. Her stance was not motivated by misguided defiance but rather certainty and confidence or perhaps she just realized it was not in his nature to act rashly... at least, not anymore. Whatever — he was glad to see that she was alive and well.

"I'm sorry about your uncle, Morgan." Wraith offered with a weak smile, feeling a little responsible since he had not tried to follow up on the girl after their last encounter. He then extended his right hand. "You can call me Devon."

Morgan stood her ground when Wraith's began to glow and the wind picked up. Tilting her head back as he came closer so that she wouldn't lose eye contact, she refused to take a step back. To do so, in her eyes, would be telling him that she was lying and she wasn't. She needed him to know she was telling him the truth.

When he stopped, giving her his condolences about her uncle and then introducing himself, she smiled.....a true smile that reached her eyes. She placed her much smaller hand into his, her grip firm. "Devon....thank you for keeping me alive. I have something to talk to you about, but it can wait. What I want to know right now is am I welcome here? Or will I be wasting my time where Tim is concerned? And, Yelena? Do you know if she's okay? She was.....well, not overly kind to me, but she wasn't mean either and she talked to me."

Her eyes carried a hint of sadness at what she was afraid he was going to tell her and her face was now serious. She was prepared to leave if Tim didn't even want to see her. She refused to grovel, even though she had strong feelings for him. But, she also wanted a chance to try and get him to understand where she'd been coming from those months before when she wasn't as strong as she was now. If he even wanted to hear it. She would leave that up to him.

Wraith was curious of what the girl needed to speak with him about. The tone of the matter seemed serious but not so pressing as to discuss it presently. It many ways she was still a child, at least she seemed so before the older hero. As young as he appeared his true age was so much more than so, and listening to her prattle on of Tim's concerns and Yelena's opinion of her was almost difficult to take seriously. Such things, though, were important to the young, perhaps they were even important to him at times but so much of late. He would try to understand.

Devon smiled, forcing the stern, judgmental look that began to fall across his face as the girl spoke of romantic affairs and adolescent concerns. Her questions were direct and so he was decidedly as forthright. "Morgan," he began with a serious tone, "I don't think Tim is looking for someone play house with, I mean his life isn't normal, none of ours are. Now, I often mind my tongue when it comes to such matters but I honestly can't keep quiet any longer." He paused then, looking over the girl's shoulder.

Wraith surveyed the carnage about them. The infrequent gusts of the lingering dust storm stirred the sands that had collected on the bodies, and injured bikers who were scrambling onto their motorcycles. The well placed explosion had taken the fight out of the lot of them but a few seemed motivated by vengeance. It was a strange place for a heart to heart discussion but then for their kind it just might have been considered normal.

Toril sighed as he glanced over at the few encroaching bikers. Two mangled men were searching the sands for any kind of weapon they could find as they did not have the guts to attack them without one. Out of pure contempt, Wraith ignored them and turned his attention back to Morgan.

He furrowed his brows with concern. "Can you really blame, Yelena for not trusting you? Trust has to be earned, especially by her, and so far you haven't done much that would make her feel otherwise."

Wraith then looked past Morgan once more as he spied one of the bikers digging his hand into the sand and pulling out a gun. He just shook his head in dismay as the man started to limp toward them, holding the pistol before him with a quivering, bloody hand. Wraith just raised his hand slowly and a powerful jet of wind rushed toward the man, parting the sands. It struck the gunman, hurling him through the air, sending him tumbling across the ground where he eventually lay still and limp. Seeing this, the other took off and Wraith continued his discourse with no further interruptions.

"You asked if you're welcome and honestly I don't know how to answer that." he said shrugging his shoulders, "It's not really a matter of yes or no. I guess it's all about choosing to be one of us. It's not an easy decision. All of us, Tim, Yelena, me and the others in Chicago decided a long time ago not only to avoid, but to fight the registry. I don't want to hurt your feelings, Morgan, but we're not some high-school gang out for kicks. This is serious. We have to be on our guard all the time not just for ourselves but for any others who could be harmed by our mistakes. Do you understand?"

Wraith hated sounding like a lecturing father, but this had been a long time coming. It was time for Morgan to choose whether or not she was ready to become on of them and that meant, among other things, growing up a little. He really didn't know how else to appeal to the girl but she needed to realize that they just couldn't have a wild card hanging around them. It was too dangerous, she was either with the program or she hit the highway.

With Devon's words, what Aunt Jackie had been trying to tell her finally made sense and her eyes hardened. Her Aunt Jackie had been telling her that if she chose to be with Tim, Yelena and the others she had to harden her heart and forget childish dreams. She would have to choose to either be a part of the program or not and if chose not to be, then she would be alone or on the wrong side of things. This she told her after the incident with the yellow jackets. And with Devon saying practically the same thing, it started to come together.

"I understand, now. And I now understand where Yelena is coming from. Can't say as I blame her. As for playing house.....looks like I totally misunderstood Tim's invite to the rocking chair on the porch." She looked down at the ground, considering what she should do and knowing she didn't have much time with which to decide. She figured she'd best come clean all together and see if Devon would even still welcome her, but she turned around then and saw a few stragglers struggling to find weapons to attack them with.

"Before I decide what it is I'm doing, I should tell you what I need to talk to you about. When I killed Sasha, her ability to call insects somehow became mine. I can now call insects and animals both. And this is going to sound completely crazy, but somehow Frank's.......essence was in her and I can sense mutants if they're not too far away from me. It's not as strong as the insect thing, but I don't want it....either one. I don't want to have anything that was theirs. Is there anything that you can do to seperate them......get rid of their abilities that are now mine?"

Morgan explained the best she could, and watched Devon's eyes for any indication that he would strike out at her, thinking her a threat. She had left out the voices, not wanting to sound like a complete nutjob, but knew that eventually she would have to tell him and the others if chose to stay.

In truth, Devon knew little of Tim's intentions toward Morgan. He only knew that if she wanted to stay among them — among those who took a stand against RAID, she would have to learn how to control her powers and her heart. Above all, she had to know when to blend into society and when to unleash the Meta-human. As the girl revealed what became of the doppleganger, Sasha, Devon listened intently despite the few remaining fools that would yet attempt to fight them. He acknowledged that he understood with a stern nod, but said little else.

Wraith suspected much, but all of his suspicions could just as easily come to not. Whether or not, her own powers were tearing her apart inside as he at one time theorized was yet to be seen. Either way, it was better she stayed close to her own kind and a doctor who might be able offer care when required. He immediately knew that there was nothing that could be done to rid a Meta of mutation, there was far more to their genetic code than the scientific community suspected, Devon had discovered this. The best she could do was learn to control her abilities; to suppress them and she could only learn how to do that from a disciplined Meta, or some Eastern guru, but since there was none around he'd have to do.

Three bloodied men emerged from the dust. They staggered toward them carrying knife and chain. They came, like all their kind did, for blood, this Devon knew all too well. As he turned to face the three gang members, he twisted his bull neck and spoke to Morgan "Control is the key." he said in low voice and in that moment the winds suddenly stopped. It was as if a giant had dropped a giant glass bowl over them, blocking out the air and Morgan felt her ears pop from a pressure change. "You have to know when to hold back and when ..." the big man flexed his arms and threw them out before him, "... to release." It was like an invisible dam burst and the three bikers were thrown back by a deluge twisting winds.

Devon turned back to Morgan. "Know when to conceal your inhuman abilities and rely upon your natural physical enhancements."

The big man began to walk slowly toward the bikers. They lay prone in the dirt, the last of their fight beaten out of them, but Wraith continued to approach until he stood above one staring down at him without any pity.

"Always protect the innocent." he said coldly his eyes trailing off into some distant memory, "Always be aware of those around you who may be endangered by your acts."

Below him the biker's eyes were taking on that wild, glassy, stare. He started to stir, anticipating the attack that lingered in the big man's rage filled eyes.

"Most of all, Morgan. Know when to kill..." he growled as his heavy work boot stomped down hard on the man's head, his powerful leg like a jack hammer crushing his skull with one blow, "... because they've done it before and they'll do it again."

The other two scrambled to their feet, shocked by the sight of their comrades flattened, blood soaked skull. Needless to say that Morgan herself might have been a little confused by the 'good' Wraith's, Cowboyesque actions. There was no where for them to run, and so like cornered animals they charged, flailing their fists like brawlers, only to have them easily fended off by the powerful man. He reached out with absolutely no finesse and grabbed hold of one of the men by the neck and lifted him into the air like thrashing chicken, while he caught hold of the other's forearm and twisted it violently, forcing him to the ground. Devon then caught sight of two more men rounding the corner of the barn, they must have been hiding until an opportunity presented itself.

"Shit!" Wraith cursed under his breath as he turned the man in right hand toward the newcomers like a shield.

The two charging bikers were armed. One had a sawed off shotgun, the other a pistol and because he was wearing clothing that possessed the common bits of magnetized metal he could not dematerialize; they had him dead bang. They're only chance was team work. He had to rely on Morgan but she was too far away and they'd cut her down before she even got close.

The larger man with the handgun opened fire. The bullet struck the biker that Devon was holding up before him, he could hear the thud of the impact, followed by a piercing pain filled scream. At that very moment then, Wraith was able to conjure a wind, nothing strong enough to cause serious impact, but a blast with enough power to hurl a cloud of sand at the gunmen, temporarily blinding them. Hopefully it gave, Morgan enough time. The choice was hers now. Fight or flight.

Morgan listened intently to Devon's words, knowing that he was trying to teach her. He had her full attention so she was shocked when she felt the air bubble around them and her ears began popping only to be cut loose. She turned to see the three bikers fly backwards and watched as Wraith approached them, still talking. Then, she stood there, stunned as he stomped the biker's head into the ground, killing him, but she understood what he said. 'Protect the innocent'. When he battled the other two, she thought it was over until she saw the two men emerge from hiding and shoot at Wraith. When he threw the wind at them, kicking up the dirt and blinding them, she had her chance.

Ignoring her own wounds and remembering what he'd said about her physical enhancements. She knew she was faster, stronger and harder to hurt then a normal person thanks to her aunt and now she used those abilities, rushing the two temporarily blinded men, knowing there weren't enough animals about to call in to help. Upon reaching them, she kicked up with her foot, landing a powerful blow to the man's wrist holding the handgun, hearing the wrist snap. She then took out his knee with another kick and gave him a blow to the head as he went down, not moving. The dust had started to settle when the other man turned the shotgun towards her, firing. She almost dropped in relief when she heard the click of an empty chamber, but it was double barreled and he would be shooting the other within a second. She moved fast, grabbing the barrel of the gun and yanking it from him, turning it around and shooting the man at point blank range in the chest.

While Morgan challenged the gunmen, Wraith quickly dispatched the human waste in his arms. With a twist of his wrist he snapped the arm of one, while he crushed the throat of the other he had used as a shield as the bullet hadn't yet ended the miserable sod's life. Tossing the body aside then, he brought the ridge of his hand down hard into the neck of the other with such force and precision that it snapped his neck, instantly killing him.

Wraith's movements were the culmination of years of practice, far more than any normal man received due to his longevity. His extensive training had molded his enhanced physique into a lethal weapon that those lacking the necessary fighting skills rarely could hope to survive. Even without training, he would have still been a formidable opponent against a skilled fighter, but against two armed men, Wraith did not believe he would have fought with such confidence as Morgan had seemed to. He hadn't doubted that her heightened abilities would have allowed her disarm two common thugs, it was the manner in which he did it that raised his suspicions. The moves she executed took months sometimes years to perfect, and yet she performed them confidently and cooly, and it was that lack of emotion that worried him most. She was far too young to have turned so callous.

If Wraith had been alone, he could have dealt with the two fools that had rushed in, but he wanted to see how, Morgan would react to the challenge. He had fully expected her to falter, but instead she not only disarmed the men, but killed them both. Perhaps she would yet reveal some emotion, but such a display meant nothing. He had seen her in the heat of battle, when a person's true nature emerges and what he had beheld chilled the old hero to the bone. This was not the same girl he had known in Chicago, Morgan had changed and there was nothing natural about it. There were very few Meta's out there with the ability to master new skills so quickly, and she wasn't one of them, this much he knew. Her father was in there somewhere, it was the only explanation.

Studying the girl with smoking shot gun in her hands, Devon quickly became aware that he had been staring for a little too long.

"Well done." he complimented to cover up any suspicions as he made his way toward her, thankful that the gun she held was empty. Wraith wasn't sure what was going on with, Morgan but her sudden unnatural advancement in fighting skills told a story that he didn't much like. Too much power, too soon, never ended well, hopefully not for either them but if it came down to it, he as sure hell wasn't going down. Thankfully, though, they weren't there yet. Wraith had time, hopefully he would be able to turn the girl around before she got too close to the dark side, if it wasn't too late already.

Devon stared out to the horizon, his face impassive, then as if he read, Morgan's mind told her his destination. "We're heading to Lubbock."

Before the girl could speak, he turned his back and strode over to a motorcycle half buried by the dust storm he had conjured. A dead biker lay beside it, bled out by a wound from a piece of shrapnel. Wraith pulled the body out of the sand and removed the leather jacket from the corpse. He rummaged through the pockets and found a set of keys, then dusted the large jacket off and inspected it to make sure there weren't gang symbols on it. Wraith's actions had made it quite apparent what he thought of gang members, he had absolutely no use for them, they were nothing but waste in his eyes which was why he attacked them without mercy.

Wraith slipped the triple extra large jacket on over his borrowed red colored hunting shirt.

"Damn." he expressed stretching out his arms and finding the jacket to be a good fit, "Can't pass up a fit like this."

He then grabbed the heavy bike, and pulled it out of the sand with as much as effort as one might exert lifting a bicycle.

"A 2006 Springer Softail." he announced, then looked back over to Morgan, "I have an old friend who's into these things. She taught me how to ride." he explained as he straddled the Harley.

"I'm not sure where, Tim took off to, but I'll take you back into town so you can pick-up your car." Devon offered then he revved up the motorcycle and waited.

Morgan stood there holding the shotgun, feeling nothing at first. She'd felt nothing as she'd rushed them, nothing as she'd broken bones, nothing as she'd killed. She remembered everything her aunt had taught her, only she applied the moves with the ease of one who had been fighting for years. She vaguely heard Devon's 'well done' as she stood there, fighting the voice within her head....the voice of her father. "And the demon kills again. hahahaha. You felt nothing when you killed....perhaps you will be a daughter I can be proud of yet."

By the time the voice faded, Devon had the motorcycle up and was revving the engine. She turned to look at him, her dark purple eyes were at first void of all emotion then they lightened and the horror at what she'd done hit her. She looked down at the shotgun and threw it from her. She reached up and wiped at something on her face, her fingers coming away smeared with blood. She walked towards Devon and the motorcycle, hearing him say that he would take her into town to get her car.

"Where did you say you were heading, Devon?" She turned around and looked at the biker she'd killed and then remembered the blood on her face. She promptly turned away from Devon and the bike and vomited. By the time she was done, she was on her knees, shaking. "Devon, do you think there is a chance that you can take them from me? Get them out of me?" She hadn't noticed that she had said 'them' instead of 'their abilities' when she'd asked him, her voice low and a little shaky. She got to her feet and turned around to face him, having wiped of her mouth. She was a little pale, but her eyes were questioning, hoping that he would be able to help her.

Devon sighed and shut the bike off for a moment so they might converse without having to shout. He listened to the girl's plea with a distracted, almost apathetic expression and responded with a silent shake of his head. There was nothing that could be done.

"Do you know what I used to, Morgan?" Wraith mentioned his eyes drifting off, "I used to experiment on our own kind. Working with a team of scientists to unravel the mystery of the Meta-human."

The words rolled out Devon's mouth like a bad taste. He wasn't proud of those days, not that he ever caused any undo pain, it was simply the principle of it all that didn't sit right with him. There's a fine line between study and experimentation and he crossed, once but never again.

"I'll never cross that road again, but even if I did there's not much I could do for you. We learned that the Meta-syndrome was even more complex than anyone had ever suspected. At the time, Beacon thought that if they could replicate Meta-mutations, that they could use them to transform Humans into allies... an utterly stupid plan, but thirsty for knowledge we went along with it believing that when the time came we could stop the madness. Fortunately the time never came, nor would it ever. We discovered that there is no way to replicate the Meta-human condition. Extensive testing on Human subjects proved that we could pass on mutations, but that they gave rise to mutant-colonies which formed a virus so lethal that they died in a few hours. In short, there is no way to modify what you are, Morgan. Not without killing you."

He fell silent for a moment but then his eyes lit up with optimism. "There may be some things we can try though. If you're game for it, but control is you best bet. Learning how to control your abilities is the key, that and perhaps some medication. If your condition worsens then we'll try some anti-psychotic's on you, they may be enough to ease your schizophrenic symptoms."

Morgan didn't cringe when Devon told her what he used to do. She didn't judge him or condemn him. It was what it was and she chose to look at as if he hadn't done what he did, he wouldn't know what he did now. He wouldn't be able to help mutants medically as well as he could. She could tell that it wasn't something he was proud of and she was glad that he wasn't for that would make him as cold hearted as RAID.

When he mentioned schizophrenic symptoms she lowered her gaze. Her father, even in death, was still able to torment her. She sighed. It was hard to swallow, but on a subconscious level, she'd already been considering schizophrenia.

"Okay, Devon. I will do whatever it takes to control this......affliction. No, not my meta abilities....Sasha's and Franks. Had I known this would happen if I was the one to kill her, I would have let her live." She grinned then, "I guess I could look at like this.....at least I fight better now."

"Don't get too cocky kid." Remarked Wraith, "My mother could have slapped those two guys around."

Wraith had to bust her chops a bit. Over confidence was a killer and the two men she bested were in his opinion, inadequate fighters. Nothing but brawlers who always fought with reinforcements at their back, softened by their reliance on guns. Were she to fight someone who at least knew how to throw a combination she'd quickly find herself in unfamiliar waters, thus it was important to prepare her for such struggles. Were Morgan to go up against Yelena, he figured the Russian would taker her three moves, but he wasn't about to tell her that. The goal was to keep her humble not completely strip her confidence away.

He started the bike once again. The Harley's engine rumbled smooth and rhythmically beneath him as he waited for the girl to jump on. He hadn't rode a bike in years, and Toril figured it would be just as well if the girl drove, but he just couldn't bring himself to switch places and cling to his much smaller companion, although he had little doubt she could probably ride much better than he could.

Once, Morgan was on the bike, Devon slowly made his way across the uneven ground and didn't really open her up until they reached the grid road that would take them to Arnett. He was tentative at first and a few times the back tire kicked out on the loose ground, but he was quick to regain control. After another five minutes or so, feeling more confident, he opened her up a little more and cruised down the road enjoying the wind rushing through his hair. If the state of Texas had a helmut law he really didn't care to comply, unfortunately explaining to the police that he could fly probably wouldn't go over all that well, but he'd cross that bridge if it ever came.

Too soon the town came into sight. Toril was just starting to enjoy himself when the large sign of the Jack Rabbit came into view and as he rumbled down the street several people took notice. The event that had taken place earlier that day had made folks nervous but he didn't blame them, fortunately he really didn't look the biker type, nor did girl and that put them at ease. He followed, Morgan's directions to her car and parked the bike.

"I guess I'll see you in Lubbock then." he said to Morgan, "I gotta few things I wanna take care of in town before I head out. I'm staying at the Embassy Suites Hotel, room 321, under the alias Steven Moore."

Devon handed the girl his extra key card. "You'll probably beat me there so make yourself at home."

Morgan thanked Wraith for the ride and the key card as she walked to her camaro. She had immediately calmed down when he told her in a stern tone to not get cocky. She slid into the driver's seat and sat there for a few minutes, thinking. Laying her forehead on the steering wheel, she closed her eyes. ~What am I doing?~ She looked at the key card and sighed. Could Devon help her? She didn't know, but he'd already started teaching her. But, what was she going to do about the two voices that kept popping up inside of her head? Schizophrenic. He'd said she had schizophrenic symptoms. Pulling down the sun visor, she opened the flap to the make-up mirror and stared at her own lavender colored eyes. "You're crazy, Morgan. Frank's won. You've gone wacky."

She started the car and pulled out, heading for Lubbock. The drive helped some, giving her time to think. By the time she'd reached the Embassy Suites Hotel, she wasn't any more sure of what she was going to do then when she'd left. She walked into the lobby and stopped, looking around. She'd never been in a ritzy hotel before and she was in awe for a few seconds, until she realized that people were staring at her. She looked down at her dirty clothing and knew she must look like crap. Looking back up, she smiled nervously, "Hiking......didn't do well." She hoped that that would explain the blood on the side of her shirt and on her upper thigh. She'd completely forgotten about her wounds until just then and now they began to pulse with pain. Gritting her teeth, she made her way to the elevators when she was stopped by the registration desk manager. "Excuse me, ma'am......just where do you think you're going."

Morgan stopped, pulling the key card out of her pocket as she did. "I'm a guest of Steven Moore. He will be here in a bit." She showed him the key card with the room number on it. He smiled at her and apologized as he went back to the desk. Sighing in relief, she entered the elevator and rode it up to the third floor. It only took a few minutes to reach room 321. She swiped the card and went inside, eager for a bath and change into clean clothes.

Wraith had stuck around, Arnett if only to briefly duck into the Jack Rabbit where he made his way into the convenience store where he purchased a utility knife, scissors, a roll of electrical tape and a roll of duct tape. He then went into the bathroom and began to modify his clothes so in the case he had to dematerialize no pieces of metal would hinder the ability. To accomplish this, he placed tape over any pieces of metal he could not easily remove, first the electrical, then the duct table to insulate the magnetism that prohibited his transformation. He was done the pants in no time; years of practice had made him quite efficient and the boots were clean. The leather jacket he had taken from one of the deceased bikers, however, proved challenging, but in the end he had managed to remove all of the decorative buckles without ruining the look of the coat. Unfortunately he had to cut out the zipper and use the duct tape on the inside of the jacket to hold it closed. Waste of a damn fine jacket, but his being able to use one of his primary abilities was far more important.

Morgan was in the middle of her bath when she heard the door to the hotel room open and close, followed by Wraith's heavy foot steps as he walked past the door to the bathroom.

"Just me." he announced as if she probably already hadn't guessed.

Normally he possessed a stealthy step, but the heavy work boots made it nearly impossible for the large man to move in his customary fashion. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to endure the clunky foot wear for much longer as he had stopped off at mall and did some fast shopping, which was the reason he why he arrived a little later than Morgan had anticipated.

Breaking the hidden duct tape seal on the inside of the leather jacket, Devon removed it and tossed it onto a chair in the corner of the room. He then sat down on one of the queen sized beds, flicked on the news and started rifling through the items, that Steven Moore had purchased, and since old Steve was a generous guy, he also bought a few things for Morgan as well. He was pretty good at judging people's sizes so he was confident the clothes would fit her, it was just matter of the girl approving of his picks.

Yawning, Wraith kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed. It had been a long day and he was still no closer to finding Doctor Jacobson, not that he presently had the energy to carry out that mission anyway. A nap might be order before he considered what the best time would be to head down to Texas Tech University, but he'd wait for Morgan to come out of the bathroom before he let his eyes close.

Lying there, idly watching whatever he surfed to, Wraith couldn't believe he was actually in the same room as the 'Summoner', as he had come to call her in his mind. She seemed rational and in control, but he was little apprehensive about her schizophrenic episodes. He had no idea what the extent of her control was, but it seemed to him that she could still differentiate between reality and fantasy, which was important if he were to attempt to help her through this. Once they got back to Chicago, tests would be order, but until then she would just have to struggle to remain in command of her own body.

Yelena and Tim made their way across the Texas prarrie, passing a herd of Texas Longhorns and Black Angus cattle, mixed with twenty horses and four young colts grazing on the prarrie grass. As they drove through the herd, Tim pointed out a dozen new calves romping cose to their mothers. They soon a arrived at a gate, in a ravine. Tim stopped the jeep and jumped out. "Ya wait right cheer, till I give ya the all clear." Tim said to Yelena. "Then ya bring tha jeep and falla me."
Tim slowly opened the gate looking around cautiously. He then dropped to the ground and crawled up the risde and peered over the crest at "The Trident" ranch house, coral and horse barn. There seemed to be no one around so he stood and motioned to Yelena to come forward.

Yelena drove througfh the gate, stopped, jumped out and closed the , jumped back in the jeep and then proceeded towards Tim slowly.

Tim waked slowly and cautiously to the back of the horse barn and opened the doors. He then pulled on what appeared to be a hook on one of the support beams and a section of the floor of the horse barn dropped down forming a ramp that lead below the barn. As Yelena drove into the barn, Tim said "Drive down thar, I'll be down directly." Tim waited till Yelena had driven down the ramp, he ran outside with a broom and hastily swept away the track of the jeep and his boot prints. Tim stepped inside, then closed and locked the barn doors and walked down the ramp. At the bottom of the ram he pressed a button and the barn floor rose. Tim the pulled a lever and lights came on. Yelena could see a bank of work benches with different shaped lumps on them covered with dust covered tarps a couple of stools, what appeared to be a desk chair cover with a tarp, what was obviously a motorcycle and two vehicles covered with tarps. Along one wall was a series of steel cabinets.

Morgan had 'felt' Devon come in, the humming throughout her body letting her know that another mutant was close by. She hadn't known that it was Devon though, until he'd hollered out to her through the bathroom door. She finished her bath, scrubbing the dirt, dust and grime off of her and washing her hair three times until she felt that it was clean again. Stepping out, she dried off and dressed in a pair of hip-hugging, black jeans, teal blue short sleeved cardigan, and her damp hair was trailing down her back. Her small feet were bare, having wiped down her black boots and tucking them away into her bag to put on later.

She mumbled a 'hi' to him as she walked by the bed he was on and sat down on the other one. She yawned herself, the hot bath having helped work out the stiffness and soothe her nerves.

"So, what's the plan, Devon? What are we doing and where are going and can you at least tell me how I wound up absorbing their abilities when I killed Sasha and why I hear their voices every now and then? Then, I will shut up and we can get some sleep." The last she said with a smile, a smile that finally reached her dark lavender eyes. Then she yawned again, trying to keep her own eyes open while waiting for Devon to answer her.

Ten miles southeast of Arnett, in the town of Ropesville, Rednecks bar was dead silent. On the floor lie three dead men and two women, their blood flowing freely, mixing with the remnants of the countless others who had disappointed Harley DeCamp.


Breathing heavily, the warlord (as he liked to think of himself) sauntered over to the bar and curled his bloody fingers round a bottle of whiskey. He drank deep, swallowing the alcohol down with hardly a wince, then he turned to last remain member of the Venom bike gang.


Barr quietly stood by, awaiting his judgment. He and DeCamp went way back, but that didn't mean shit to the man, and the hardened biker was well aware of it. The fact that Harley was taking a breather didn't bode well for the seasoned servant, but then their leader by rite of force turned and spoke.

"Know'd what yer are, Barr?" Growled Harely in his low raspy voice, "Yer a goddam waste a &$%Ding skin. You here'n me alright thar boy?"

Violent words to retort swelled in the man's throat, but Barr bit them back. The fact that Harley was taken the time to speak was a good sign, one that meant he might yet live to see another day. Harley could see them burning behind the man's eyes and it would take but a little more coxing to get them out, but the fact was that he yet needed Barr. His experience was invaluable, plus he was the only one remaining who knew what this 'cowboy' looked like. The bastard that dared to stand up to his men and steal one of his shipments!

Harley heavily placed the bottle back down on the hacked and worn bar. "MOTHER#$%@&#!" he screamed, then turned his gaze on all who stood around, finally focusing on Barr, "I.... want... this @#$%er's head mounted on my @$%#ing wall! I want him an' all his friends, his family, even his @#$%ing dog... dead! Ye got me?"

Barr nodded and for while Harley's lingered on him, and the old biker swore it felt like the Devil himself was plucking at his soul. "Get the @#$% outta here, Barr before I tear, your @#$%ing head off! An' don't come back until you've dun what I told ya. Find out who's close to this piece a shit and make 'em suffer."

Barr hastened out of the place at a respectable pace.

"And Barr!" Harley shouted at his back, "Bring me back my souvenirs, ya hear?"

The biker paused and complied with a nod. DeCamp always had to have his souvenirs, a piece of the victim, a memento of the kill. Once, long ago, talking shit while in a drunken stupor, Harley had told him and few others who were dead now, that he relived the kills through the tokens. He revealed in a cold and certain tone that night that death replayed his works for him if touched the kill. Barr always thought it was just horse-shit, but the reality was that if Harley didn't get his 'souvenirs' he took it out of your ass.

As Barr left, Rednecks he knew he had to make good on Harley's demands, and to do so he would need the roughest bunch of men he knew; friends of his, who he had served with in Libya and Lebanon back in the good old days. Leaning against his bike, Barr made the call and set up meeting with his old comrades who were now mercenaries. Hired guns, who now made a living at collecting bounties on meta-humans, if anyone might now who this hombre was that messed with him, they would.


While Morgan asked her questions, it was quite apparent that Devon was very at home in the high class hotel room. She observed how neat he was, even the old work boots he had borrowed from Tim had been positioned beside one another and at a ninety degree angle from the bed. In fact she had noticed that he had positioned his toiletries in a similar fashion and that even the parcels he had purchased had been arranged in an orderly fashion, and it was then that she noticed that some of Devon's recent purchases were clothes that were apparently for her. He made no mention of the gesture, but then she had already began to notice that he was very prone to distraction and probably forgot.

Devon lay on the bed, his head leaning back against one of his large arms curled behind him while the other worked the remote. He seemed lost in thought as he surfed through the channels and Morgan was beginning to think he hadn't heard a word she said when he glanced over at her. For a moment he just stared in silence, his mind working through the intricacies of the girl's physiology, that and he had never really acknowledged how beautiful she actually was. There was no disputing she was well put together, almost stereo-typical, much like himself. He imagined that on the surface the scene of the two of them would have looked rather domestic, in a 'hollywood' sort of way and the thought of it brought a smile to his lips. It was if anything nice be back in the game, making a difference. He had tried to retire, but he knew now that it wasn't for him. Pushing sixty now, the old hero yet had the physique and appearance of a thirty year old. Physically he was still in his prime and probably would be for many years to come, but once in a while he felt his age in some sort of psycho-somatic fashion, as if his muscles, deep down, knew how old they were and figured they should be acting their age. One day, he would have to write a paper on the phenomena but in the mean time he would concentrate on taking a stand against RAID and anyone who threatened the innocent, just like the good old days.

"I think, Morgan, the answer lies in your ability to detect mutations that denote the meta-syndrome that makes us what we are. You see, all of our abilities are unique and in reality go beyond what we currently understand about our genetic code. In my research I discovered something, that the scientific community will not accept. I found, a sub-atomic code underlying the dna strands of all organisms. Mystics would call it, 'prana', others 'chi', but I proved that it is a real, and exists within all of us. It is especially prevalent in meta's or those individuals that have developed special mutations and I believe that it is this sub-atomic-code, or let's use your word and call it 'essence', that is the true key to what we are."

Devon, excited by the topic, sat up and swung his legs onto the floor, leaning closer to Morgan.

"All, meta's exhibit a different brain wave than homo-sapiens, but it is difficult to detect and so many scientists discount it, as is their way. This represents that fact that all meta's are in fact tapping into some form of psychic ability to perform their super-human feats. Tim's time stopping ability, for instance, has arisen because it is simply the way that his meta-syndrome has formed, another meta with a similar ability will 99.9 % of the time be completely different."

"There are a probably a thousand factors that have contributed to your... 'condition'... Morgan, but the simple answer, I feel, is that you and your father both possessed some sort of symbiotic ability. They exist 0.01% of the time, in families where the meta-syndrome of one has been passed on to their children. Your father, I feel though, was not a meta. He possessed a single mutation, and one that did not manifest itself until your birth. At some point I suspect that your powers manifested themselves and in turn awoke his, unfortunately his ability probably lead to his insanity, but that's not to say the same thing will happen to you." Devon said quickly to raise the girl's spirits, "You're a meta, and we are able to handle our mutations more effectively, than homo-sapiens that develop a change in the structure of a few genes."

"Now, the fact that, 'Sasha', was an actual physical being, a 'phantasm' if you will, born of your father's and your clashing minds is a phenomena that I have never before witnessed, but since there are meta's out there that are able to conjure things out of thin air, I imagine the principle is very similar. It also makes me think that your power to detect other, meta's may be an evolving ability, but I will need to do a lot more research to know precisely what is going on in that there head of yours. For now, I think the best thing to do is keep it straight. We'll work on control and focus and worry about the medication later."

Devon then sprang off the bed and skipped over to the personal computer in the corner of the room.

"Now the plan. I told, a friend of Tim's by the name of Stubby at the Jack Rabbit that I was heading back to Lubbock and where we could found, hopefully he gets word to him and Yelena. I had sought him out because I think I might need some back up on this one."

Devon brought up a website for the Texas Tech University and accessed the College of Agricultural Sciences and Natural Resources. He then brought, Morgan's attention to a picture of one of the professors.


"This is Doctor Ephraim Jacobson, a brilliant geneticist and the creator of the serum they are administering to the people of Chicago to counter-act the plague that is being generated by a signal, by UMBRA. A fact, that RAID, seems to be suspiciously unaware of. I need to talk with him and find out how to make this," Devon pulled out a jump drive and a sample of the serum, "work. I don't know how he put it together, but it is almost impossible to decipher."

Devon walked back over to his bed and sat down. "So that's it. The thing is, though, that I suspect that Jacobson is being watched by RAID. I need back up on this, just as a precaution. You're welcome to help, but remember that subterfuge is of the upmost priority."

The big man, bounced back and returned into his previous position, lying comfortably on the bed. "First on the agenda though, is a nap. Hope, you don't have any problems with this arrangement, if you'd like a room of your own, I can arrange it after I shut my eyes for while and recharge the old batteries. Otherwise make yourself at home."

Morgan listened intently, intrigued by all of what he was saying. She didn't have the patience or intelligence to do what he did, but to listen to it, have it explained by someone who knew how to do just that, caught and held her interest. He assured her that just because her father went insane, didn't mean that she would and she breathed a sigh of relief, only to listen as he began about Sasha. That in itself was mind boggling to her, the fact that she was physically real and yet....not. She also couldn't help but smile over his child like energy at explaining something that he loved to talk about and giggled as he 'skipped' over to his personal computer. She rose and walked over to stand next to him and looked at the picture of the doctor on the screen. Again, Devon spoke about a 'plague' in Chicago and she looked confused, but kept quiet for now.

When he laid back down on the bed, she sat down on the other and realized that she'd forgotten to ask him about the bag of women's clothing, but he was already talking about taking a nap and she was tired as well. "I'm fine with this arrangement, Devon as long as it doesn't bother you and some sleep sounds like heaven." She lay down herself, curling up on her side facing the other bed. Within minutes, she was sound asleep, exhausted from the day's excitement.

Devon had gotten so wrapped up in explaining his own theories and delving into the mysteries of Morgan's own meta-mutations that he had been completely oblivious as to the reason of her polite smile. It was only when he closed his eyes that it even dawned on him that there was something amiss about the girl's odd reaction when he made mention of Chicago. He was up like a shot then and quickly turned on the TV. He hadn't really bothered to check the news, what with Sigma filling him in and he had simply assumed that the crises was being broadcasted coast to coast. Yesterday, the President himself, had addressed the situation and declared Chicago a natural disaster and such an address would appear on every major station throughout the US.

As Devon surfed the channels, searching through the various news stations he was optimistic that he would find something about Chicago, but as the remaining networks began dwindle a cold chill ran down his spine. All he could find was a mention of an epidemic in Chicago, alluding to a dangerous virus, like H1N1, which was why they had closed the city down, as a precaution to avoid any further spread. Nothing at all was mentioned of UMBRA and the deforming condition that required a special serum to control.

Devon leaned back and audibly sighed. He turned toward, Morgan, whom he was pretty sure was just dozing and began explaining what was happening in Chicago.

"Morgan." he whispered, and when the girls eyes opened he continued, "It seems that RAID has grown so powerful, that they can censor the words of the President. There's a strange affliction affecting the people of Chicago, it's deforming condition that Meta-human's are immune to. We found out that it is being caused by a signal, generated by the Meta-human group, UMBRA, who is also providing the serum that can remedy its effects. The serum is highly addictive, and I fear that it may have other affects on the population. That's why I am here, to speak with Doctor Jacobson, so that I can learn how to modify our counteract the serum's affects, because I have a feeling that is in fact UMBRA's goal. The plague is just a smoke screen, the real goal is getting people hooked on the serum."

There were also other factors to consider, but Wraith wasn't going to worry Morgan with them at his point in time. The fact that RAID might be working in league with UMBRA was a possibility, but it was just too far fetched for Wraith to accept, but he didn't put it past them to sink so low.

Morgan opened sleepy eyes as Devon spoke, listening. When he told her what was going on back in Chicago, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She waited until he was done, then thought for a moment. "Well, do we get some sleep first or head out now? And, what did you mean by 'subterfuge'?" She'd decided when he was explaining about the doctor that she would help him any way she could...it was the least she could do. But, she was hoping that a nap at least, would be on the agenda first. "Oh, and Devon...before I forget, what's in the bags over there?"