Author's notes – Yeah, Liz, I know the chapters seem short, lol. I would post a whole book at a time but I am stalling in order to get the last book in some semblance of order. It certainly doesn't seem all that polished right now and only half the pictures are done, up from none from just a couple of weeks ago, lol. Not to mention the unexpected project of having to go back and put in all the missing separations in my earlier posts. What a nightmare. I feel bad for anyone who tried to read Through the Looking Glass without them, especially the parts where Gambit is reliving Kimble's old memories from Siska. Think about it, I have to skim every single chapter I ever posted here. There's like a million! Crikey!

(Four)

Once Kyle set the pace, the group moved quickly into the woods. Now that he had finally been given a task to perform that he was actually suited for, Kyle's mood picked up considerably, his shine sparkling bright with happiness. It smelled so wonderful out here in the crisp clean of the woods, not like the canned, recycled air of the Complex. These were real trees, true old growth woods, not some man made, half hearted forest that replaced what had been cut down. While most folks wouldn't know the difference, his feral sense of smell was just too powerful not to. This was as close to heaven as he had come in a long time and he was relishing every moment of it.

He could hear all the animals around them, nestled deep in their burrows, he could hear the flapping of small birds in the branches above them, taste the fresh snow in his mouth as it kicked up from his nimble hands and feet. There was no greater bliss than this and he couldn't hide small little yips of excitement from leaking out around his heavy breathing as he moved. It was the old call of the pack, letting the others know he was on the trail and to come and join him in his hunt. He was dressed the lightest out of the whole group – thin black pants, light boots, a Thermalite fleece parka vest with the team colors, no gloves or mittens. Like Logan he wasn't the least bit troubled by the cold, his body was generating its own heat as he moved effortlessly along the trail.

Remy was pleased to see the colors of intense joy racing through Kyle's shine even if he wasn't so sure of the cause. He knew that back home Kyle wasn't the happiest of fellows, spending most of his time either confined or taking orders from someone. He had very little control over his life and it must be difficult to live that way. Here he was free, doing what he had been meant to, nose to the ground, skillfully tracking his prey.

Kyle wasn't just genetically suited to this kind of work, he had also been highly trained for it during the years he had spent inside the Weapon X program. He had fared little better there than Logan had, barely surviving that rough military lifestyle. Kyle didn't take orders well and suffered when harshly treated, something Remy knew well from reading the kid's file. While he hadn't been given fine details, he had gleaned enough from it to understand that Kyle had to be handled delicately. Shouting in his face or beating him to force him to behave wasn't going to work. So far Kyle had been flourishing under Gambit's much gentler hands, becoming more and more civilized as the days passed.

Remy slowed and looked behind him when he heard Trigger's rough laugh. The boy didn't laugh cheerfully, it was almost always from observing someone being picked on and this time was no exception, Remy quickly saw. Hercules was once more teasing Julien who had fallen quite a ways behind and Trigger was amused by it. It was disappointing.

Remy's team was composed of a lot of runaways and they had a lot of catching up to do both educationally and in maturity to match the other squads who had spent most of their lives in the Xavier system one way or another. Gambit had done that deliberately, choosing those prospects who had been rejected from other teams or had simply been overlooked as useless. He had hoped that by selecting these kids and carefully working them that they might be the best of all the squads or at least the most hard working since they had the most to prove. They would at the very least be the most notorious or would stand out, of that Remy was sure. He did hope it was for overcoming the most odds and not for crashing and burning. So far it had been mostly working as well as planned. Remy's kids were doing better academically than they had previously since they had joined, the smarter girls had seen to that by tutoring the slower boys. The maturity was a different matter, however, and it was slowing them down among other things.

Most of the kids he had chosen had been rejected from other teams because they either couldn't pass the starting requirements or couldn't keep up in class. Remy was doing his best to work around this by going outside the box. Instead of the usual calisthenic drills, he took them rock climbing in the Complex's Solarium. They took modern dance lessons, Pilates, and yoga classes. Remy flew them to exotic locations in the Dragon 2 and had them hike for hours in the woods, the jungle, and on endless beaches on deserted islands. They played many games of baseball, street hockey and soccer. These techniques were working. Their physical abilities were improving all the time but most of all the kids were having fun. They wanted to come to practice if only to see what new thing the Thief and his Siskans had come up with for them to do.

However, in spite of this the weaker members of his team were all still struggling when it came to athletics, poor scrawny Julien in particular. Other than Hercules, Gambit hadn't chosen them for their physical skills and it showed at times like this.

Remy called a halt and walked back to Julien, passing a harsh look to Hercules on the way. This was the part Remy liked least about running a squad, the endless bickering and politicking between the kids, the jockeying for perceived positions of power. This boy wanted to be a leader in this group and usually stood up for anyone who lagged behind, but never for Julien whom he still considered a traitor in every sense of the word. He wanted Julien off the team in the worst way and was forever pointing out his many failures. This repeated behavior frustrated Remy who felt that anyone seeking a leadership position should lead by example and not single people out just because he didn't like them.

Julien was slogging his way through the knee high snow, breathlessly stumbling along even though a rough track had been dug out by the kids who had preceded him. His head was down from exhaustion and he didn't even notice Remy coming for him until he had nearly plowed into him.

Gambit held his arms out and caught the boy who stumbled and almost fell right into them. He couldn't stop himself from comforting his son in as low a voice as he could, he didn't want the others to hear. "Easy, fils. You breathin' too damn 'ard."

Julien at first sagged there, his breath coming in ragged pants, but then he recoiled away once he fully realized who had caught him. "I'm fine!"

Remy let him go, trying not to show how much it hurt that his son still wanted so little to do with him. How light he had felt there in his arms, still so bone thin. He had gained some weight since he had joined the squad but it seemed like it was never enough. As it was they were still unsure even of how old the boy was. He claimed to be eighteen but his body, so stunted and starved, looked more like fourteen. Fourteen fit Remy's time spent better with the boy's mother, but there were extenuating circumstances – the boy had spent time in a pocket world where time was a bit funny. It really was possible that he was older than he looked, but with the inconsistent birth records, nothing could be certain.

Remy had taken Julien to see Hank numerous times about his health problems but the big blue doctor still wasn't sure of the cause of his perpetual malnutrition, other than to speculate that it might be because Julien was an energy producer like his dad who sometimes struggled with the same problem. All the doctor could do was recommend feeding the lad as much as he would eat and keep him exercising. Hank's best guess hadn't satisfied Remy but it was all they had for now. He put those thoughts aside for now and suggested, "We all takin' a break. You should eat something."

"Molly fed me before we left."

Good for her, Remy thought. His wife was always so thoughtful. Still he reached into his own Away Pack and took out one of the two good sized protein bars that were always stored in the packs as emergency food. There were really tasty, peanut butter and chocolate, and it was sometimes hard to keep them in stock because they were too easy to simply snack on. All the kids had them including Julien. Remy didn't see why they would need to fall back on them this time out but still preferred that Julien keep his own as spares just the same. "Eat dis anyway."

"I don't need it," Julien protested, turning away and slogging forward towards where the others had gathered, his legs clearly shaking from the effort. The last thing he wanted was his dad pointing out his weakness in front of the whole group to see.

"It wasn't a request!" Remy hissed at him, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to halt. He then gave him a half shove, forcing him down to sit on a tree stump that was conveniently there to receive him.

The boy went down on his ass with a startled grunt, the protein bar shoved into his hands with authority. Julien snarled something ugly under his breath but Gambit let it slide when he heard the wrapper being opened.

Remy walked back to his tracker, his face dark with frustration. He was annoyed with his son for being so stubborn but also annoyed with himself for being so short tempered. It was more than Julien's uncanny ability to press his buttons so easily, it was also the cold, he knew it. The expression 'when Hell freezes over', how he hated it. As if the cold would be an improvement. Hell for him was a white, frost covered, snow ridden environment such like he was in right now. The longer he was out here, the more aggravated he was becoming. This was sucking big time and the last thing he needed was a bunch of unruly teenagers snapping at themselves. Still he had to be better than this, he had to be better than they were.

He had actually finally managed to calm himself down, a good thing, until he heard Hercules grumble to TrueBlood, "We should have just left him behind. He's a complete waste of time."

Gambit turned on him sharply, his anger rising up again like an ugly red beast. His loss of control showed as he snarled, "Are we goan be bitchin' de whole way? Cause I can just as quick run all yo' sorrowful asses right on back home and call up de other kids dat was too tired to show. Bet dey all up now. Dis ain't no Kindergarten!"

Hercules blanched at that, or at least as much as a green skinned mutant could, and took a step back, his hands up once more in surrender. It wasn't like Remy to swear and it made it clear that this time he had gone too far. He didn't know if the threat was real or not and didn't want to find out the hard way. "Sorry, boss."

Remy looked at him hard, remorseful at his own loss of control, but it was too late to take it back now. Perhaps he could use it to teach instead. "Look, de only way dis team is goan work is if we all pull together. All of yo' talents work together like pieces of a puzzle, like all de parts of a bridge dat cross over a valley too deep fo' just one of you to cross alone. De stronger kids gotta hold up de weak, not just de ones dey friends wit. Life works like dat and so is bein' on a team. In dis 'ouse, we leave no one behind, hien? If you can't 'andle dat den you in de wrong place, son. Comprenez-vous?"

"I get it," Hercules replied, just trying to placate his irate team leader. It didn't mean he was willing to be best buds with Julien or anything, just that he was recognizing Gambit's position of authority.

Remy could see it and it didn't improve his mood. "Den act like it or you're done."

With that Remy walked away back over to Kyle, his back turned so he wouldn't have to see the look of shocked surprise on Hercules's face. Hercules was stunned at the idea that he could be cut from the team and that was just fine with Remy, the kid was getting too big for his britches and he needed to be unsettled a bit. The boy was getting too comfortable with his popularity and oversized ego.

After a few more minutes of rest, they resumed their way along through the trees. They were all a lot quieter than they had been before, cowed by their leader's short temper, and made good progress. Remy halted them next when they finally reached the small clearing where Aiden had met his unexpected visitor. Remy stood at the rim of the trees, pausing thoughtfully for a moment as he read the scene before him. He didn't like it, not one bit. The snow here was very disturbed and it didn't look like it had been done by passing animals. Someone had tried to cover up what had happened here, but not well enough.

Remy waved a hand and called out, "Kim?"

The Siskan stepped forward at the ready. "Aye, Cap'n?"

"Take a look see over 'ead. Don' touch nuthin', sil vous plait? Just fly over and tell me what you see. Don' want us walkin' out into some kind of trap."

Kimble nodded and jumped up into the air, mindful of the branches all around. He wasn't the only one in the group who could actually fly, Gryfon could as well, but in this case Remy trusted him best at least for this preliminary peek at their situation. Kimble drifted up high and then out over the clearing, shielding himself protectively just in case. Remy's voice had been calm, but there was enough unease in his shine that Kimble wanted to be prepared.

Gambit was still issuing orders, making good use of his resources. "Dewy, use de birds. Tell us what dey see."

Dewy nodded and closed his eyes, focusing out with his mind. The woods were quiet to the ear, but filled with life that he could readily sense. He felt the mind of every small creature within his short forty foot range and tapped into them, doing his best to try and meld the images into one cohesive picture. Unlike Kyle who could merely sense their presence, he could actually see what they saw, feel what they were feeling. They weren't telling him much at the moment, only that the squad was out here by themselves as far as he and they could tell.

It didn't mean there wasn't anything out here to learn. Kimble had by now drifted out to about the center of the clearing, keeping his seven foot height from the ground. Something caught his eye however and he stopped suddenly, dropping down quickly and disobeying Remy's direct order by reaching down to pick up something from the trampled snow.

Remy recognized what it was even from a distance - it was a piece of Aiden's shredded black and pink parka. Alarmed now, Gambit raised a hand and shouted out to Kimble in warning, but even he could see it was too late. Kimble was dislodged with a startled grunt and it was someone else in his place. Zander had come out and he wasn't fooling around, he had already conjured his glowing sword and was looking around, searching for a target.

Aiden wasn't the only damaged Siskan in Remy's possession. The most common defect amongst these sentient holograms was personality separation, they just couldn't hold up to the psychological abuse their Masters always seemed to dish out to them even though they hadn't been designed for it. Aiden had been shattered the worst of any Siskan Remy had ever heard about – being forced to fight for money will do that – but he had been repaired well enough that his voice was the only real giveaway that anything untoward had happened to him. He was still his own person.

Kimble hadn't been so lucky. He had been shattered as well, though into fewer pieces, only four as compared to Aiden's twelve. Unfortunately the repairman who had reintegrated him hadn't been so skilled as Aiden's. Over time, Zander, Kimble's more violent and protective personality fragment, had been slipping back out on his own. Luckily he was only popping out in situations like this where there was some kind of threat to those he cared about and he felt the call to action.

Kimble's being split wasn't the same as a human being split. In human cases the inner selves most often were unaware of each other. Kimble's broken selves, on the other hand, had at first conversed with one another internally as if he had a whole committee in there. It had driven him nearly mad and the subsequent repair did fix some of that by putting two of those fragments into a deep dark sleep from which they hadn't woken from since. This left Kimble mostly in charge but Zander, however, was much too powerful and motivated to be silenced so easily. Of course one thing Zander thrived on was physical and defensive training. All the team work that he had been going through lately with the squad was feeding him in its own way, even if he hadn't popped out until now to say so.

The sword Zander had conjured was his best weapon. It was in reality a hardened telekinetic shield just as Aiden's spikes were but Zander took it one step further, he had learned how to charge this weapon with plasma energy from his own body. This was called Channeling and Remy had seen Zander use this energized weapon to kill more than once.

"Uhm... what just happened?" shy little Tilda asked warily from behind Remy's left shoulder. While Kimble's body hadn't changed shape, the personality shift was obvious even from a distance. Zander simply stood taller and prouder, he carried more authority and it showed. His voice was different, though he hadn't yet spoken aloud for them to hear – it was deeper and far more gravelly than Kimble's smooth even tones.

Zander had been scarce these past weeks since Remy had been training his squad and this was the first time any of the kids had ever seen him fully in charge like this. Remy had been happy enough to see Kimble stay in control all that time, but now because of it he had no easy means of explaining the change to this group, nor did he have the time.

He didn't look back at Tilda, but answered her question as simply as he could. "It's too complicated fo' de time we got here, so I'm just goan say dat Kim's mind is split and leave it at dat for now, eh? 'E won' ever 'urt any of you when 'e like dis. Stay 'ere. It'll be okay." He then stepped out into the clearing, his hands raised, wordlessly asking for Zander's patience.

Remy had good reason to be nervous. Zander was the embodiment of gentle Kimble's suppressed rage from years of abuse and violence came easy to him. He was quite comfortable with murder and Remy had seen him kill more times than he ever wanted to. Zander had another name as well, one he easily deserved – he was The Punisher and he didn't hesitate to act as judge, jury and executioner all at once when given the opportunity. Thing was, without knowing the situation, it was simply too dangerous to have Zander out here jumping to any conclusions that just might be wrong. It would be difficult to interrogate the skewered.

"Easy, Zandy. We all just got 'ere, eh? Relax," Remy ordered, keeping his voice light. He had to be careful, Zander didn't always respond to his authority like Kimble did. Zander backed off only when he wanted to. He and Remy had butted heads more than once and Remy had spent a lot of time trying to figure out better ways of getting Zander to do what he wanted. What he really needed to do was point Zander in a direction and use him instead rather than trying to fence him in and hold him down. Remy had learned that this was the same problem that Kyle had had with his handlers in the past and Remy was all to happy to use the same techniques that were working on bringing Kyle out of his shell on Kimble's more aggressive self. Instead of Remy always insisting that Zander give up control back to Kimble as he might have done in the past, he now tried to reason with him instead. "T'ink about what you doin' out 'ere, homme. Dere ain't no need fo' gettin' angry and gettin' off track, eh? We don' even know what's goan on yet. How about you start wit' givin' us another good look around?"

Zander turned towards Gambit, his sword still raised and an angry sneer on his lips. He wasn't quite ready to take orders just yet. He thrust out the scrap of cloth he had picked up in a tightly clenched fist and complained, "You said this wuz just suppozsta be some kind of game. Well it shure as fuck ain't!"

Remy nodded, knowing his earlier concerns had obviously been justified. Trouble was that he'd had that conversation with Aiden, not with Kimble. Zander wasn't in love with Aiden, Kimble was, but Zander would unhesitatingly protect what belonged to his weaker, other self.

Remy tried to keep this from getting worse. "Je sais, I know, but mebbe Aiden's just playin' along, d'accorde?" He didn't really believe that, but he didn't want Zander to go off rampaging with his sword either. "See if you can find anyt'ing else out dere, sil vous plait. Help us out."

Zander made a face at that, sensing Remy's doubt. He couldn't be lied to easily. Still, he was taking some comfort in the fact that Remy wasn't fighting him or trying to shut him down. It calmed him some and he did as he was told, searching the snow for any more clues that he might have overlooked in his anger.

"Uh, boss?"

Remy turned in annoyance when he heard the question from behind him. He had his hands full with Zander, he didn't want the interruption. "Quoi?"

"What the heck is this?" TrueBlood asked, holding up a what looked like a thin icicle. "It's cold but it sure isn't ice. The trees are full of them."

"Fuck!" Zander shouted abruptly, recognizing what it was at once. He vaulted back up into the air and floated back away to the furthest treeline, flying in a slow backwards defensive circle, now searching the entire perimeter for potential threats. He had good reason to be wary. Aiden only used the spikes when he was in real danger, never frivolously. It took too much energy to make them. Thing was, the team couldn't be sure if the threat was still here or not.

It wasn't the first time the kids had heard Kimble swear but when it came out in Zander's guttural, anger filled voice it had them all in defensive positions faster than Remy could bark the order himself. The squad moved forward and formed a circle, the weaker members in the middle, a perfect defensive formation. Remy couldn't have been more proud of them at that moment. All the joking and complaining was gone, these kids were ready to rock if they had to. It was the best sign he had gotten so far that all those endless hours of training were actually paying off.

Now that Remy knew for certain that this was no drill, he was upset with himself. Because he had been taking this as an exercise for the most part, he had dallied a bit getting out here. How much time had he wasted on instruction and getting his crew in line? He wouldn't have done things this way if he had been more certain. Well, there was no taking it back now. He got back to work and asked, "Dewy, anyt'ing?"

"Not that I can see," the lad answered, his voice tight with fear. "I think it's all clear."

"Bien. Mebbe we just missed it den. Kyle, you next. Move out slow, tell me what you see. Zander cover him." Remy wanted the second opinion because he could see that Dewy was so nervous and scared that he couldn't be sure the boy's testimony was reliable. Good thing he had more than one way to find out information on a complicated scene like this one.

Kyle obeyed and cautiously crept out into the snow on his hands and feet, his nose low to the ground. He hadn't said much earlier, but he had picked up a lot just while they had been hanging around. "Mrr! Two people..." he announced right off. "Wolv'rine and someone else... mrr! A stranger..." He moved out a few more feet and then bent down farther, actually taking a bite out of the snow at his feet.

"Someone's thirsty," Hercules joked uneasily. He had been trying to keep quiet as Remy had ordered him to earlier, but he wasn't sure if all the fuss between Remy and Kimble was just grandstanding or not. They had been out here with Logan all this time, if this was a game they might be in on it as well. He couldn't deny the fear that was chewing at him though. He was no coward but still, with little actual field experience he was a little jumpy. It lessened his patience for what he was perceiving as theatrics by Kyle and Kimble and it was grating on his nerves.

Remy was about to silence the lad for kidding around at a bad time but froze when Kyle's shine swirled with bright color, a reaction to whatever he had just tasted. Kyle's head jerked up. "Mrr! Blood!"

Crap! Remy cursed internally again. How much time did he waste lollygagging out here with the kids? "Is it Logan's?"

Kyle stamped his hands and feet in place, something he did when he was frustrated. "Yes... but no. Mrr! Something's wrong... "

Hercules snorted derisively under his breath, still trying to behave and failing. "What kind of tracker is he?"

Remy raised a hand, silencing any further complaints Hercules might have said. He was watching his tracker work it out. Kyle was licking more snow, his shine growing more and more excited. Some of it was the feral hunger aroused by the blood itself, Remy knew that Kyle was at heart a cannibal and this blood was human. Kyle dug into the snow and raised another of Aiden's spikes, this one tinged deeply red. Before Remy could stop him, Kyle put the tip into his mouth and sucked the blood off of it like he was eating a popsicle.

"Gross!" Hercules whined, unable to keep that silent. He had been trying to obey his leader and keep his mouth shut, but the blood tasting was just too much for him. He found it too unnerving.

Remy reached behind him and snatched at Hercules's coat, giving him a swift, short yank in correction, all the while still keeping his eyes on Kyle. "What you got, Kyle?"

Kyle stamped his hands and feet again. "Mrr! Not Logan.. but his.. taste... Lung wound, not a smoker... mrr! Male... eats lots of fish..."

"Remy, come on!" Hercules protested, keeping his voice down because he was still tight in his squad leader's grasp. "This is bullshit. This guy doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Kyle never lies," Grace answered to that, her eyes still on the trees.

Grace had no sooner spoken the words when Trigger cried out and crumpled to the ground. Just as fast Dewy and Tilda went down next. Remy had expected the much older and supposedly more experienced Gryfon to cover the kids, but instead he was dismayed to see the rat bastard leap high into the trees, leaving the squad behind. The kids who had been struck were the ones closest to Remy and the Thief was no sooner exposed when he felt a sharp sting in his neck. He never had a chance to comment, he simply fell down into a sudden deep dark black.

(break)

Zander shouted in frustration when he saw his squad mates all begin to fall. He had already shielded himself telekinetically and so wasn't all that surprised when he heard the thunk of a tiny dart hit his shield and stick there, suspended in mid air as if by magic. His quick mind noted that it was a small silver needle with a tuft of red on the end, feathers. A tranquilizer gun meant that whoever this was wasn't fooling around and knew something of what this team was capable of. It wasn't coincidence that the heaviest hitters had fallen first.

Well, not all of them. Kyle was on the move, he had turned right around and was heading to the left and through the trees to where the darts were coming from. He had a couple of the brightly red tags sticking out of him but they weren't slowing him down any. He was pissed off and it was jacking up his metabolism, letting his healing factor take care of the sedative. He launched himself up into one of the trees and climbed with furious speed, his finger claws gouging deep grooves into the trunk and sending bark flying.

Zander lost him in the branches and he flew closer to the tree Kyle had chosen but kept back, ready for anything. Zander touched down in the snow down underneath, hoping that peering up would give him a better view of the action, but it was still hard to see exactly what was going on, there were too many branches in the way. He heard Kyle roaring and snarling, it was one heck of a fight going on up there, and then Kyle came tumbling down to his left from pretty high up and hitting the ground with a dramatic thud of crunching snow.

Kyle hadn't fallen alone, he had someone in his arms now and the brawl continued unabated on the ground. Kyle's guest was dressed in black military clothing, now all ripped and bloody from Kyle's less than gentle ministrations. He had been hidden well in some kind of platform blind up in the tree, the reason why Dewy's birds had been unable to see him. Perhaps with more training Dewy might have done better, but he was still just a new recruit and had much to learn. Parts of the blind the fellow had been using came tumbling down with the struggling pair, snapping and breaking on the way down in a cloud of dead of leaves, shredded canvas, and crumbling tree bark. A long sniper's rifle came down with them, harmless now that it was out of the hands of its user.

The man Kyle had so skillfully extracted from his lofty refuge was the same fellow that Aiden had encountered earlier, the slim Asian with the Mohawk. Apparently, he had needed no help for this particular round up. If the guy had brought along more friends than the one accomplice Logan had seen, they were now nowhere to be found and hadn't come to any call of distress. He was on his own at the moment but didn't seem the least bit deterred by it. He never cursed the inconvenient and no doubt painful fall as a lesser man may have done, no, he simply made his next move, changing his tactics for the new terrain. He expertly rolled to his feet, separating himself for a moment, and the fight continued, changing to the ducking of punches and side stepping around the trees.

Zander had dodged the tangled pair when they had fallen down from above him, trying to stay out of it for the moment, and was forced to move aside more than once as the fight took up more and more real estate under the tree. Zander laughed at the absurdity of it. He wasn't taking it that seriously just yet and was more than happy to let Kyle have his fun.

As the pair continued to battle, Zander began to realize his mistake. He noted the brilliance of the stranger's shine just as Aiden had done - this was usually a sign of someone who was a rapid healer or was mostly invulnerable to injury. Their life force was that much more powerful and it most often came on out in their shine, a handy clue to have in a fight. For Zander, it let him know it was better to deal with this quickly instead of letting it messily drag out. Kyle, a regenerator himself, had a shine just as bright. If Zander were to just let them duke it out it would likely be a long and pointless fight.

Zander got right to work, he boldly stepped in and grabbed Kyle's opponent by the long ponytail of his Mohawk before giving him a rough toss, finally separating the pair. It proved to be something of a mistake. A well trained fighter, the man simply hit the ground and rolled right back to his feet as he had before. Now that his hands were free, out came a small black handgun from a holster attached to his waist. He had two guns there, one on either side, each one different from the other. The one he held now was no dart gun and before Zander could stop him, the guy fired three high caliber bullets into Kyle's chest and face, throwing up a crazy artist's painting of gore on the trampled snow. He then turned the weapon on Zander, firing rapidly without even waiting to see if Kyle had gone down for good, which of course, he had.

As the bullets bounced uselessly off of his ready telekinetic shield, Zander watched Kyle go down from the corner of his eye. He compartmentalized it for the moment, not letting the rage swamp him. He knew Kyle was a healer and would probably be okay – eventually. Zander had only one thing on his mind now and that was taking down this freak. He approached the man with all of the menace only a truly pissed off Siskan could muster and, spitting in his irritation, demanded, "Where's Aiden?!"

It wasn't that Zander was unconcerned with the rest of his squad, it was that of them all only Aiden was actually missing. Zander had no doubt he could take down this pathetic scrap of a man, he could simply just spike his ass or worse, but he just didn't want have to tear the woods apart afterwards, looking for Kimble's lover.

"Oh, he's around..." the man replied in a lazy tease, a sly smile twisting his lips, his slanted Asian eyes merry. If he was the least bit frightened by Zander's display of anger, it certainly didn't show in his shine.

Zander had a mind to change that. He twirled his sword and grinned widely now, sure to show his fangs. He could have recharged his sword but left it alone for now. Plenty of time for the big kill later. He wanted information first and was still confident that he could do so without resorting to overkill. "Best if ya bring him on out now. It ain't such a good idear keepin' me waitin', boy!"

"If you want him," the man teased, grinning himself now. "..come and get him!"

With that, he vanished in a burst of speed Zander hadn't imagined the guy capable of. It wouldn't be the first time Zander had let his cockiness get away with itself, allowing him to underestimate an opponent. He cursed and gave chase, following the footsteps in the snow.

He hadn't gone far when he saw a large white, heavy duty pickup truck parked in the snow. It had a truck cap over the bed begging to be looked into, but there was this pesky little scrawny scrap of a human to contend with first. The man was at the cab with the passenger door open and was rooting around inside.

Zander was still on his feet and charging towards the vehicle when the man turned to face him, a different kind of weapon in his hand. In it he now held a slender Samurai sword.

"Seriously?" Zander chided arrogantly as he came to a stop, flexing an arm and twirling his own Medieval Knight sized broadsword. "What're you plannin' ta do with that? Pick my teeth?"

The man just laughed and the sword moved swiftly in front of him in a rapid series of exercises that looked to be more flash than substance. If Zander were more of a coward, he might have been intimidated by all that grace and style, but all it did was fuel his amusement. He spread his arms in invitation and playfully challenged, "If ya dare..?"

The man came at him and Zander blocked the first strike easily, but it quickly became apparent that the man's lighter weapon gave him the advantage – that and he was much better trained in its use than Zander was in his own. It was looking like all that flash and pop the young man had shown him earlier hadn't been just for show after all. Zander was a big bruiser, a hack and slash kind of guy. He did not possess the ability to dance and swerve and flow with such speed as his opponent did. The only thing that kept this from going from bad to worse was that Zander was able to maintain a telekinetic shield about his body, a secondary armor his opponent did not possess. As it was, the guy was doing little else but tiring himself out while evading Zander's wide, heavy arcs.

The man danced in, trying to get close, but Zander kept him at bay. He tried a different tack, baiting the Siskan with his mouth instead. "You are at least putting up a more spirited fight than your pretty little blonde friend," he teased, trying to get a rise out of Zander. "He went down quick, begging for his life."

Zander wasn't about to fall for it. He just grunted a laugh and teased, "I doubt that. There ain't but one thing Aiden ever begs for and that's a good... hard... fuck." He placed special emphasis on the last three words, stepping in a bit closer all the more to pin the man suggestively with his eyes, his mouth wide and hard. "But I doubt a pipsqueak like you would be up to the job."

His opponent just laughed, charmed. His shine swirled with colors Zander did not expect. Most men of battle shared a common homophobia, seeing it as a sign of weakness, of femininity. This man had no such concerns, an interesting twist. He was at least.. familiar.. in some way with this form of love. "And you are?"

"Oh, I always am," Zander returned, his smile changing into something more menacing, a promise of how he might be willing to give a demonstration, one this fellow might not enjoy. He let the not so empty threat stand out there, waiting to see what the guy would do with it.

The man stepped back and laughed again with true merriment, taking a moment to wipe some sweat from his chin. Zander let him take the break, he was much too fascinated by what he was seeing in the guy's shine. There was still no fear but what Zander had taken for a sort of receptiveness to untraditional lovemaking was actually something else, something darker. This man was no stranger to brutality, he had in fact often been the wielder of it. The man had related to Zander's true threat – one of domination and cruelty, not that of sexual intent – and Zander had an idea that this guy was far more used to being the giver and not the receiver of it. This man knew little of mercy and kindness because so little of it had been shown to him. A monster made, not born. His shine was speaking to Zander, it had a glimmer that was saying, I have been the victim before, but no longer. Now, I am the bringer of pain and you can't scare me. Not one bit.

Busy now, Zander cataloged that tidbit of useful in formation away for later. Intimidation of a sexual sort wasn't going to work so it was back to business with the swords until he could think up something else.

His opponent was up for it, offering strange praise as they continued to parry back and forth. "You have an interesting choice of weapon. It is nice to see someone use a sword, it happens so seldom these days. With a little practice, you might even be able to actually use it."

Zander laughed again, seeing at least a hint of good nature woven into the words. "What better time than now, eh? Teach me sumpthin', boy, or just lay it down and get it over with."

They circled around for a couple more rounds, but were interrupted by a series of electronic beeps. The stranger's watch had chirped.

"You out of time or sumpthin'?" Zander teased, amused by the reminder that as bizarre that all this was, it was still taking place in the real world.

"No, my friend," the man replied. "But you are. So endeth the lesson."

Zander had no chance to ask for clarification because from that moment on things went suddenly and terribly wrong. A sudden arc of electricity spread over his shield, seemingly coming from out of nowhere, blinding him. In all this swordplay and mucking about, Zander had failed to recognize that the second gun the man had affixed to his belt wasn't a handgun at all, but a Taser, one that could work from a distance. The plan had been to bring it out when Zander got in a bit a closer but the Siskan hadn't allowed him near. What Zander had lacked in finesse, he had made up for in sheer power and fearlessness.

Now reminded that he was on a schedule, the young man had simply tried to see if the weapon might work even though the Siskan was shielded. It couldn't hurt, right? The fact that it was the perfect weapon of choice for battling a Siskan was pure fluke, but it worked wonderfully. He pulled the trigger and two electrodes shot out, attaching themselves to Zander's telekinetic shield with a thunk and a happy buzz.

Zander's shield did keep the electrodes from actually hitting his skin, but sadly it also conducted the released electrical charge quite effectively all around his whole body, doubling its effect. He was a Siskan trapped in a lightening storm that he had no escape from. Zander howled as he was overcome and his legs gave way, crashing him to the ground. He seized violently, thrashing in the snow in a frightening display of control lost. This was why Remy had placed Trigger, an electricity producer, on the team as a failsafe. No Siskan could withstand such a jolt and Zander was no exception.

Gel gushed from his mouth and nose like vomit as he flailed, spraying out in a mist not unlike blood. It shimmered brightly in the snow, glowing there a moment or two before vaporizing away, just as his sword was now gone. His skin actually flickered off and on like a light switch out of control, color to no color, back to color again, betraying his mechanical origin. Zander jerked and twitched a few minutes more finally growing still, his eyes half closed and his sides heaving for air.

The man approached him slowly, still distrustful. He had arched an eyebrow at Zander's flickering skin, but gave no other sign of surprise. He crouched down and dabbed his fingers in a bit of gel slop that still dripped from Zander's chin. He grunted to himself in recognition, remembering this from his earlier encounter with Aiden. There was something different about these two, and yet they were the same.

He didn't get much time to reflect on that interesting fact. He heard some branches snapping behind him and turned just in time to see Kyle leaping for him, his face and chest bloodied but now mostly healed. Zander's fooling around had bought him some time and Kyle had recovered enough from his earlier mistreatment enough to come back for a second helping. He had stripped down for more speed in the snow and he was now reduced to just his pants, the snow the last thing on his mind. They collided and rolled in a now familiar dance.

If the young man was startled to see Kyle come so unexpectedly, he gave no sign. Really, his orders had been to collect them all so Kyle's coming to him saved him the bother of having to backtrack for his body. Still, this time he was taking no more chances. He broke free just long enough to run for the truck cab once more, enduring a vicious raking of claws down his back.

He fumbled and reached for the virus gun just as he felt Kyle's teeth sink into the back of his neck. He managed to fire off a couple of rounds backwards but point blank into the boy before falling exhausted and face first into the snow. He squirmed and shuffled, crawling under the truck itself, his slanted Asian eyes watching as poor Kyle dealt with the new round of abuse he had just been dealt.

Kyle had fallen away, releasing his attacker. He now gasped and writhed in a twisted heap, just as Zander had done, his body just as out of control. These were no ordinary bullets. The wounds burned like fire and the pain was intense and unbearable. A bomb had gone off in his chest, a nuclear blast had exploded right behind his eyes. He was screaming even as he choked on foamy vomit that spilled from his mouth and splattered all about him. His back arched painfully back as he thrashed and his eyes rolled back to the whites before he fell black with a strangled, pitiful wheeze. For Kyle, this fight was finally over.

(break)

Whatever thoughts Remy might have had about Gryfon's cowardice at fleeing the scene, they were somewhat misplaced. Yes, he had run away – or rather flown – from the initial attack, but it had a real purpose. He wasn't the sharpest guy but even he could tell that whatever this was, it was going to be really bad. As he had scrambled away he had fumbled for and quickly found the small ring of keys he had stashed in a nearby pocket. One of the fobs there looked like a modern car key with a chip, but what it actually did when activated was send a noiseless, wireless automatic signal back home that something was terribly amiss. It wasn't something that was to be used as a joke or in simple drills so he knew that once received, it would be taken seriously. Gambit had possessed a similar device, but had been taken out too quickly to use it. With the team going down so decisively and without warning Gryfon had to be the quick thinker and get the alarm out, even if it meant temporarily leaving the others behind to their fates.

Well, the plan had been for that abandonment to be only temporary, but when he saw Kyle and Zander take on the bad guy themselves, well good ole Gryfon got to thinking maybe it was best if he just stayed back and let them handle it. These were tough fellows and supposedly more than capable of taking one guy on his own down. Gryfon watched the fight dispassionately, not even the least bit concerned when Kyle went down the first time, his face blown apart by high caliber bullets. He knew the small scruffy fighter could heal.

That all changed when Gryfon next watched the bad guy retreat down the path into the trees with Zander gleefully following him, merrily dashing off to who knows what trap the man had waiting. See, that was the difference between an experienced man like Gryfon with years of combat training and a new recruit that only had a few months. Gryfon was certain that all of this had been planned by the bad guy and that none of it had occurred by accident. That was what this former Gold Member's keen eye could see, and he absolutely believed it.

Stupid Zander, that unfathomable idiot. Warren wasn't dumb, nor was he unobservant. He had seen Kimble many times at practice and Kimble's skills were supposedly the same if not lesser than as Zander's were. It was the same body after all. The same memory drives. Kimble had spikes, he had powerful shields and barriers, he could lift and throw heavy objects great distances from himself. Likewise, there were so many things Zander could have done to end this quickly and safely, he was that same powerful telekinetic after all, but his arrogance and inexperience had led him to choose badly. Zander had wanted to play, to draw this out for what could only be some sick kind of perverse pleasure, for the thrill of the hunt perhaps. There really hadn't been time for that kind of horseplay here, Gryfon was thinking bitterly.

How many times had Remy placed these strange Siskan creatures up on some pedestal, like they were somehow better than their fleshly counterparts? What could possibly have driven the Thief to ever consider raising Kimble and Aiden to positions even higher than the prospects on the squad? To even use them as trainers? What a fool. These guys had no more field experience than the kids did and therefore should never have been allowed the status they now held. It had been misplaced, they were unworthy of promotion and Zander's current display of recklessness was only proving it.

Zander was now out of Gryfon's sight and Gryfon was stuck with a difficult choice – stay as he was and continue to exploit the fact that he had been forgotten, or follow Zander to see if he needed any help. The second choice would no doubt bring Gryfon out into the open and then he would be exposed. He wasn't sure he could handle their attacker, not on his own. Of course all he had to do was delay the fellow only long enough for help to arrive. He just wasn't sure if he was capable of even doing that.

The problem was solved when below him, in the snow, Kyle's battered and mangled body twitched and slowly came back to life. Gryfon couldn't help but be impressed. Half the man's face was in rags and there he was awkwardly scrambling to his hands and feet in a drunken daze. Gryfon couldn't help but wonder how much of the guy's brain was gone, his coordination wasn't entirely there.

No problem, Kyle's anger was doing most of the work for him it seemed. The more parts of him that got moving, the louder he was growling, a tortured grumble of pain and fury. It raised chills up Gryfon's spine but at the same time his feral heart leapt with joy at the sound of it. Like a Beagle's howl at catching a scent, it was companion sound, a call to arms for the pack and Gryfon heard it. When Kyle finally found his feet, he threw off the rags of his tattered vest and gave a ragged, stumbly chase, one that left blood spattered behind him in a haphazard declaration of impending doom for the one it was aimed at. Gryfon forgot all concerns and followed him from above, leaping from tree to tree and gliding with ease.

Oh dismay and calamity. This was what Gryfon felt next as he took in the scene by the white truck. Zander was down, unconscious and laid out like a plucked chicken ready for the pot, limbs all tossed out as if he had been thrown aside with the careless anger of a spoiled child.

Kyle, if he had taken in any of this, showed no surprise. He was at full charge now, as feral red as the blood that flew from what remained of his foaming mouth. He launched himself in a superhuman leap and took the intruder by his back but it was all for naught.

As much as it had been stupid of Zander to fail them, it was now even more so for Kyle. The boy supposedly had many years of specialized training under his belt, he should never been taken down so quickly and with such ease. Here now was what had kept him from going up the ranks of military service as Logan had done. His rage and reckless dash for revenge had earned him only more shots to the chest, this time from a weapon that Gryfon did not recognize but was no doubt far more effective than the previous pistol had been. Down Kyle went, his agonized and tortured body a perfect crumpled match to Zander's own.

Gryfon fully expected their attacker to turn his attention to him now that Kyle was down again, but it didn't happen. The guy just laughed as he crawled out from under the truck where he had been hiding, his torn back and neck already healing. He gave Kyle's limp body a rough kick just for spite before simply grabbing him and tossing him into the back of the truck. Zander was next to be added and just like that, the stranger was back in the truck and in reverse, returning to where Remy and the kids now lay helpless in the snow.

Gryfon cursed under his breath and checked his watch. Damn. This had all gone down so quickly. As fast as the Gold Squad could scramble under pressure, it could still be at least twenty minutes before they got here. He had to do something.

He flew as quietly as could, following the truck back to where the squad still lay so helpless in the clearing. Their attacker was working quickly, grabbing the unconscious kids and heaving them into the truck as fast as he could, being less than gentle with the much heavier Hercules. The guy was strong, it wasn't taking him much of an effort though he was much more winded doing this than he had been while battling Zander. It had been a long day for this fellow and it was not even much past daybreak.

Gryfon hesitated, unsure of what to do. He needed to stop this guy but he had no desire to get a dose of the same punishment that both Zander and Kyle had received. The specialized gun the man had used on Kyle was on the man's belt now, taking the place of the Taser that had been discharged and rendered useless. Gryfon had serious doubts about his ability to survive a shot from that gun, whatever it was.

When the last body had been loaded, Gryfon checked his watch again. Damn, still not enough time. If a rescue was coming, they were being a bit slow about it. This guy had to be delayed and it was now or never.

As the man closed the back of the truck and moved for the cab, Gryfon sucked it up and gave it his best shot, for good or for bad. He swooped down, trying to be as silent as he could, his hands outstretched, the gun his main target. If he could at least separate the guy from that weapon, he might actually have a chance to save the day after all.

Sadly, he wasn't as silent as he had hoped. The man turned towards him as he came, smiling as he said, "Ah, there you are."

They collided painfully, chest to chest. The momentum of Gryfon's flight unexpectedly carried his head over the other man's shoulder and his face smashed painfully into the driver's side glass, shattering both it and his nose. Dazed as he was from this clumsy landing, his hands had managed to find their target – the man's still holstered gun, and he did not let go, even as his companion grunted and twisted, trying to get free from Gryfon's much larger body that now pinned him against the vehicle.

Both men grappled for the gun, swearing and snarling as they thrashed. The stranger was weaker than Gryfon, or so it seemed, and relaxed his hold little by little, giving up an inch at a time. He finally tilted his face to meet Gryfon's own, smiling as he did so. "Come now," he soothed in a voice as smooth as velvet, "There is no need to fight me. We can settle this in a more.. civilized.. manner, yes?"

Gryfon met his eyes and snarled as he offered with sarcastic generosity, "Sure. How about you just let my friends go and leave? No harm, no foul."

The man just laughed, amused by it. "A tempting offer to be sure, but then my Master would be so displeased. Perhaps we can think of a better way. Look at me, my pretty. We can talk this out. Just you and me."

As he spoke, the man's eyes bored into Gryfon's own. At first Gryfon was mystified as to what the guy intended, but the longer he looked, the deeper he stared, the more Gryfon felt his urge to fight simply slip away. He couldn't explain it, it was just that strangely the man's words seemed to make sense. Fighting was silly, wasn't it? It had never solved anything in Gryfon's life, in fact it had always seemed to cost him dearly. What was the point?

"Wha – what?" Gryfon stammered lamely, oddly bewitched and unable to look away. His anger had dissipated and all that was left was a sense of a deep and perfect peace. All of those dark and ugly urges he had been holding in check these past many days simply vanished, leaving him empty. Quiet. Serene. It was a pleasure beyond measure.

"You fight so hard when there is no need," the man purred, daring to release his hold on Gryfon enough to reach out and gently stroke back the loose feathers that had fallen into Gryfon's eyes. He was a mess from his impact with the window, blood was oozing from his poor broken nose and his eyes had already started to blacken with fresh bruises. "Shh... easy now," he continued to whisper, his voice so soft and gentle. And then he leaned in gently planting a tender kiss on Gryfon's lips.

In the real world, where everything made sense, Gryfon would have been throwing this jerk right off of him, his homophobic heart going into overdrive. But that didn't happen. Robbed of his urge to fight, washed in a warm and fuzzy cloud of absolute bliss, that one kiss meant everything. It was all going to be okay now, everything was so wonderfully peaceful and quiet. It had been so long since anyone had touched him so tenderly, had held him so closely, had touched him without pain. There was no greater bliss than this...

The stranger chuckled softly, feeling it when Gryfon actually swooned – yes, swooned - in his embrace. His next movement was so swift the human eye wouldn't catch the entirety of it but it was oh so devastating. The hand that had stroked those feathers so lovingly back came to rest on Gryfon's right shoulder and then just like that, dug right in and spun him around violently, the man's other hand grasping Gryfon's wrist. The turn was so shockingly sharp it not only dislocated Gryfon's shoulder rather neatly, it also snapped his forearm in two places.

Gryfon howled as the brilliant burst of pain shocked him right back into reality – was that guy just kissing me?! What the fuck?! But by then it was too late. Gryfon's legs buckled from the sudden change in mental gearing – from absolute peace to sudden bewildering agony – and it was enough that his attacker gave him a separating shove, pulling the weapon they had just been fighting over out from its holster. The man broke from mere amusement into real laughter then, even as he fired a single round low into Gryfon's back, choosing a non lethal shot on purpose but one still resulting in significant injury.

Gryfon screamed anew and stumbled to his knees from the impact of the bullet, almost tumbling face first into the snow. The pain was immense, burning, consuming, numbing him from the waist down. If he had thought the breaking of his arm was bad, this was ten times worse. He had been thoroughly defeated without fully comprehending why. Had it only been just a couple of minutes since he had flown down from the trees? Was it less? This was ridiculous. Infuriating.

While the all encompassing pain might have weakened someone else, it filled Gryfon's feral mind with red instead. Blood and pain, oh he had been given it and he would have it back in spades and then some if he could manage it. His intense and terrible rage was uglier than the pain and it allowed him to temporarily overcome the wickedness that was chewing into his guts like an angry swarm of fiery bees on the loose. He blindly lashed out behind him with the one arm that still worked and smiled with satisfaction as he hooked his prey deep in the left calf with his long finger claws.

Gryfon pulled that calf towards him with as much violence as his attacker had given him and laughed with his own malicious glee as it jerked the man right off his feet, landing his Asian ass right in the snow without an ounce of dignity. Gryfon then turned and simply heaved those parts of him that were still working right onto the fellow, using his torso to pin the guy down even as he sank his teeth into the meatiest bit of flesh he could find. The red had taken his mind and he was clawing, scrabbling and biting like a rabid machine, his body just doing its primal best to stay alive, to punish, to kill this little jerk of a man for totally ruining his day.

Screams, rewarding and glorious screams came from below as Gryfon's mouth filled with salt and blood, an elixir that at least momentarily allowed him to forget the ever spreading numbness and heat that was migrating out from the deep slug of molten horror in his back. He had scored and scored well, his teeth striking the man right in the neck just as Kyle had done. Guttural sounds of pure animal joy leaked out around his tightly clenched teeth, a cheerful revenge for the kiss he was hoping he could someday forget. In that moment he was the closest he had ever come to relating to Logan's feral mind, a man he had thoroughly hated from the moment they had first met. Too bad he was too far gone to realize or appreciate it. All he wanted was justice, justice for what this man had done.

Sadly though, his attacker had too many advantages for this minor victory to last for long. As Gryfon's body was gradually weakening from the punishment it had been given, his opponent simply healed up almost as fast as he was being injured. Done with this, the Asian man finally popped claws on both hands and slammed them into the bigger man's thighs, hoping to miss anything vital. Under the best of circumstances he would have sunk them into Gryfon's sides and neck instead but there had been an order given – don't kill if you could help it. A message had been intended to be left behind for those who were surely on their way, but it couldn't be delivered by the dead. While he didn't normally allow himself to be so limited, an order was an order and he was for the most part an obedient creature. For the most part...

Gryfon never felt the impact of those claws, nor did he even see them that he might question how this man had come by those weapons in the first place. He was too fixed on his prey and now basically paralyzed from the waist down. That didn't mean the injury had no effect on him. The man had missed the artery as planned but major blood was still spilt. Gryfon's jaws began to relax as bright pretty spots formed and swirled before his eyes, a sign of serious blood loss. It was a sure declaration he was going to lose this battle and with that knowledge came a low whimper of angry protest from his raw and hurting throat.

Gryfon's strength was ebbing away quickly and he was powerless to stop it when the guy that had once been trapped below him finally rolled him off like a lover who hadn't quite satisfied and the roles were reversed. The slim young man was now on top of him, grinning back at him with a kind of savage glee. "Look at you," he purred, amused by Gryfon's last efforts to keep fighting. "I suppose you think of yourself as an eagle. Hmmm.. Even a griffon for real, one so savage and perfectly lethal, but alas...we both know the truth of you. You are chibi suzame, a tiny bird beating against me with your tiny, ineffectual wings. Well, goodbye, Little Sparrow. Perhaps they will let you be an angel for real up in Heaven."

With that he simply rose to his feet and fully healed now, casually walked away, leaving Gryfon behind, battered and shuddering with each breath on the cold, now hard packed snow. Gryfon was helpless, unable to even cry out any retort or protest he might have thought of on the fly. The cold now was seeping in with each new breath, even as the heat that was burning in his back was now boiling his insides, spreading like an evil virus ever higher, working above the numbed nothing that were his legs.

There was slam of the truck door and then the louder rumble as the vehicle's powerful motor was revved like a snarling beast. A choking cloud of exhaust blew into Gryfon's face and he coughed, spattering more blood out onto the already filthy snow. The truck began to move, the rear tire tantalizing close to Gryfon's outstretched hand. He twitched hard, flexing the talons of his bloodied fingers. It was all he could manage, a gesture no more threatening than the wordless curses that raced through his mind.

Gryfon's vision began to blur and he squinted, fighting it, a last ditch movement that for one second brought the license plate number into brilliant focus before washing away in a blur of tears.

WEB 357! his mind screamed.

And your point...? he countered, feeling the blackness move in alongside him, promising a release of his pain. How glorious it would feel.

You know what you have to do.

I'm dying.

Big deal, you've died before.

Yeah, well, it's not like I have a pen handy, you know...

There are other things than ink. You can do this. You have to.

He gasped again, his eyes opening a little wider. Was it vanity? Maybe. But it was a cold hard fact that even now as he was probably breathing his last, he still didn't want to be thought of as the poor deranged freak who had poisoned himself like an idiot chasing a stupid dream that had never come true. He was a monster. They all hated him, but he could do this one thing. This one thing to show them he was .. no .. that he had always been a soul worth saving. He was still a human being just like them.

He shifted, lucky that in all of his flailing about, his arms were now quite close to one another. The fingers of his one functioning arm were not yet so numb that they couldn't move. He managed to creep them up against the arm that lay limp and twisted in a way that limbs should never be. He took a deep breath and dug in with a claw, getting to work. It took a minute or two and it wasn't really pretty, but like the true Gold Team member he had once been, he got it done.

Exhausted now, he relaxed and breathed. When the black finally came for him, he didn't fight it.

To be continued in Riding the Night Train.