“Are you sure this is what you want?” There was little denying the trembling in his voice as the question rolled from his tongue. Even now, he wasn’t sure why he was asking. He knew the answer already – didn’t like it, but knew it nonetheless. Turning away, he paced to the window, braced his arms on both sides of the windowsill, and looked out onto the quiet streets of a now deserted town.

In response, the child turned his gaze upward, examining the taller man with wide eyes. Those eyes, still wise beyond their years, reflected an innocence that was slowly eroding away, and Zero Down couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for that. Recruiting a child had been a long shot in the first place, even if that child had turned into one of the strongest members of his team.

Stepping backward, the child lowered himself onto a chair and shrugged. Strangely, the high back chair almost dwarfed the child’s stature, subtracting years from his appearance and making him younger than he was. With a shrug, Grey Goose replied, “No offense meant, ZD, but it just fits better this way.” He paused for a moment and then added, “You’re not mad, are you?”

Zero Down shook his head. “There are choices that need to be made, and I can’t fault you for making the right ones. That would hardly be fair of me.”

This brought a thin smile to the child’s lips. “I wasn’t asking what would be fair. I was asking if you were mad.”

“No reason to be,” Zero Down confirmed. “Truth of the matter is, I don’t think I’m quite cut out for this team either – or at least leading the team, anyway. With Xavier dead, there’s not exactly much guidance from above me, and I’m much more capable as a middleman. Now that I’m left to my own devices, I feel like I’m lost. That’s where I lay the blame for your leaving.”

“So what does that mean for the team?” Grey Goose asked, his voice teetering somewhat from the assured tones he’d started the conversation with. “If things are going to fall apart because I’m leaving…”

Zero Down cut him off. “Don’t worry about that, kid. I’m not dissolving the team; I’m just stepping down as its active leader. I think missions will flow easier with all of us acting as a full team instead of one of us shouting orders at the rest of the group. Worse comes to worst, a new leader will step forward and take the reins. But don’t worry – we’re not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.”

An expression of relief crossed the child’s face. Before he could respond, however, Zero Down asked, “So, when you all hit the high road?”

“Most of the cell has already left. Rogue and Circuit stayed behind to wait for me and to make sure things got tucked away here. I guess everyone’s still a little freaked that the Giver may resurface sooner or later. This way, they get some assurance that it’s not sooner,” Grey Goose explained as he scooted out of the chair. The thought gave him pause, and an expression of unrest settled across the child’s face. “There’s a lot of healing left to do. You know how it is.”

Zero Down nodded. “I do.” He took a second and looked down to Grey Goose, with a shift in his eyes as they narrowed. “There’s a storm coming, and I can’t help but feel that you’re signing on to be in the center of it. Worse, Panic doesn’t seem to realize the game he’s playing right now. Just remember, when the chips are down, you’re the bridge between us all. It’s gonna be your job to pull the groups together, and get everyone beyond the mistrust that’s shackling us all.”

With a glance upward, Grey Goose allowed an unsure smile to crease his lips, and then he closed his eyes. “If it comes to that, I’ll be ready. I don’t want to worry about it right now; really just want to get myself settled again, find a place to call home. This a step in that direction, I think.”

“My best to you, kid. If you need anything…” Zero Down left it hanging there, not entirely sure what else there was to say on the subject. Time would decide the impact of the decisions made today, and with any luck, Fate’s hand wouldn’t be cruel in its dispensation.

Half a world away, Parker Coleman turned up his collar as he walked through the front doors of Grand Central Station. The hour and minute hands indicated he had a good forty minutes before his scheduled rendezvous, and experience told him that a cautious man would arrive to the party earlier. It was his intent to arrive earlier than his meet, to see how the other man approached the situation, and more, to see how the other man was going to stack the odds in his favor.

Disappearing into the sea of pedestrians, Parker made his way to the bank of Arrival/Departure monitors and appeared to take deep notice of their contents. In truth, he was looking beyond the words and examining the reflections in the monitor glass, watching the row of lockers that stood exposed behind him.

“Are you sure you want to do this without the whole team, boss?” A timid voice sounded over the comm unit.

For a moment, Parker wondered if Circuit doubted whether or not he had the right to question leadership decisions, and under normal circumstances, Panic would try to assuage those doubts. In the current matter, however, there were no options, no variations. Everything was going to be done by his call and his call alone. “Positive. Anyway we take him down, this guy’s got two options – prison or the grave. Either one is going to be by my hand.”

“Just checking.”

Ten minutes until ETA, and his quarry stepped into the perimeter. Rolling his head to the left, he whispered softly into his collar, “Pull the noose. Circuit, you’re on surveillance detail. I want every camera in the facility zeroed on our target. Gambit, you’re on tail duty. If he shakes, you shake. And if anyone fucks this up, there will be no doubt as to how far I’ll carry a threat.”

“You be on edge, mon ami. Perhaps, it’s time to relax, eh?” Gambit shot back, the ever-present jubilation ringing in his voice. Parker didn’t care much for the reaction, but he took it for what it was -- an affirmation that the Cajun would do his job.

Thankfully, he didn’t need the same vocal assurance from Circuit. “This is a fugitive target, recently enjoying flight time after the destruction of the Cube – a superhuman prison facility. Be aware of your surroundings and especially wary of bystanders. Target is willing and able to utilize innocents to meet his objectives, particularly if he feels in the least bit threatened by his environment. Do not engage unless target makes your identity.”

He hated having to issues these orders. By-and-large, this should have been his mission and only his mission. The timing was off, though, and with it, there was a need to wrap this up as cleanly and quickly as possible. And if anything, Panic wanted to ensure that Mr. Fear was taken off the board before he could cause harm to anyone else’s family.

“Here’s the lowdown. Target is an omni-level emotional manipulator with power application centering on the fear response. With that, he is able to pull a backdoor mind control on the victim, inciting them to his will through manipulation of their fears. I’m going to be doing my best to blanket those in the immediate area and block their reception of his abilities, but that can’t be my sole concentration. We’re short-handed, and that means we’re all in this on multiple levels – including you, Circuit. If need be, you’re to move into a physical role on this action. Understand?”

“Crystal,” the technopath responded from the other end of the comm-line. “Cameras are ours, and the pipeline is in place if we need a quick exit. I’m moving into position in the lower levels of the Station. Just give the word when to snap, boss.”

Already, Panic could feel the twinges of fear and disillusion tugging at the edges of the minds around him. Turning around, he leaned back against the Departures board and stared out across the crowd, weaving his sensory perception through each of the minds between him and Mr. Fear, forming an intricate web of mindscapes and hauntings. This was where the battle would begin and end.

And that’s when the mission scrubbed – before the plan was even set in-motion. Just before reaching into the locker, Mr. Fear turned, and a cruel smile spread across his cracked lips. The look in his eyes communicated everything, daring to laugh at the idea that he had walked into a trap. Across the room, Mr. Fear mouthed the words, “Think you’ve caught me, do you?”

“Oh, I’ve done so much more than, you bastard,” Panic whispered under his breath. This was, in every consideration, his moment. Sure, the Cajun and Circuit were present, but Parker was certain they understood their roles in all this. They were simply here for crowd control. The actual battle was between Mr. Fear and himself, and it was a grueling throw down that was long overdue.

“Bring it on.”

The first wave of seismic emotional energy erupted from a plump woman in her thirties. The woman took a single step forward and then froze in place. Her eyes opened large, taking in every ounce of her environment, and a scream choked in her throat, refusing to release. Plunging forward into her mind, Panic could feel the raw terror that had seized her, and the touch of that unbridled emotion energized him. Seizing it with his mind’s touch, Parker rolled the emotion away from the woman’s fear of dense crowds, and pushed her into a happier place, fueled by the release of positive endorphins.

Meanwhile, his own body processed the energy from her negative emotions, and the power flowed through the electrolytes in his blood. Crackles of blue light licked the edges of his fingers, and then, opening his palm, Panic released the blast of energy into the center of Mr. Fear’s chest, toppling the villain backward into the row of lockers. “How’s that for playtime?”

The man’s lips curled back in a dry, cold laugh. “Expended your bit of surprise too quickly, didn’t we?” He pulled his limp, angular body away from the dented lockers and shook off the smoke that smoldered from his overcoat. “You really should have made sure that was everything you could muster.”

And then the world turned pear-shaped and abysmal.

“You ain’t much for words, are ya?” she asked. From behind the oval lenses of her sunglasses, she peered up at the strafe of clouds that floated through an otherwise flawless sky. It was far from home, but it would have to do for now. “Seems like you haven’t said a word since we finished the whole shakedown.”

The white-haired woman shrugged, the words seemingly having no effect on her whatsoever. Popping her gum and then sucking it back into her mouth for extra chewing, she turned her head to the side and replied, “Haven’t had too much to say so far. I’m just keeping an eye on the situation and making sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”

“And what situation is that, sugah?”

Switchback peered down the bridge of her nose and eyed the Southern Belle closely. It was the sort of stare that said a thousand words and communicated that fact that none of them needed to be said at all.

Rogue immediately leaped to the defensive: “Ah ain’t the only one who caught a bit of the nasty from The Giver. If ah remember correctly, he went to town on your fragile, little self, too.”

“There’s a distinctive difference there, Rogue,” Switchback answered, pushing away from the wall and taking a few steps onto the browning lawn. “Through the years, lots of people tried to hurt me – most with some degree of success. In the end, I get my revenge and usually end up hurting them on somewhat of an exponential scale. I don’t hide the fact that I’m not a nice person. But you, you’re a much different person than I am, and you took a piece of that son of a bitch into yourself. If nothing else, that’s cause to keep you under watch.”

“Sounds like you’re letting personal issues seep in there. This ain’t about you and me, darlin’.” Rogue glared at the woman, letting darkness swirl into her emerald eyes. Sure, she was used to having her character scrutinized, but it was a different matter coming from someone whose past was less than stellar.

Switchback shook her head. “Never has been. But keep in mind that I’m an excellent judge of character, and my instincts aren’t typically wrong. This one’s gonna come back and bite us in the ass, and I’m going to do everything in my power to watch mine. You can mark my words on that.”

“Ah’ll take that to heart, sweetie. You can count on that, too.” Rogue wasn’t in the mood for mind games, guilt trips, or threats from people who were supposed to be her teammates. However, she had little luxury to argue. The boys were already having all the fun, and time was already running short for meeting them. “So, what’s keeping the kid?”

The sound of a young voice coughing drew their attention back to the doorway, and Grey Goose lifted his hand in a wave. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you all, but wow…anyone could have pulled that off. You two were knee-deep in it.”

“Nevermind that,” Switchback retorted, backing away from Rogue and once more folding her arms across her chest. Casting an auspicious glare upon the child, she asked, “Are you ready to go or not?”

The boy raised his eyebrows as if to question whether Switchback was always hostile like this, and Rogue merely returned a shrug toward him. With a nod, he said, “I’m as ready as you are. The sooner we get out of here, the better for me.”

Rogue laughed. Patting the kid on the back, she remarked, “You know, for a pint-size, you talk a lot bigger than your britches.”
A warm smile spread across the child’s face as he shrugged deeply. “I guess it comes from a childhood spent on the road. Lot of free time and a lot of books to fill it with. Or maybe it’s just an offshoot of my powers. Who knows?”

“Well, you learn to watch your ass, kid. I’m not here to do it for you,” Switchback said, pushing off the wall and beginning the long walk to the plane. Over her shoulder she called, “I’m not anyone’s mother.”

Grey Goose stood there and watched her go, jaw dropped in astonishment. Still staring after her, he asked Rogue, “Is she always like that?”

The southern mutant chuckled and replied, “Honey, they ain’t got a word for what’s crawled up her ass.” And then, depositing the child on her shoulders, she added, “C’mon, let’s get this wagon train over with. Sooner the better.”

Mr. Fear stood in the midst of the maelstrom, a cruel smile painted on his face as he relished the chaos he’d created. Around him, the people were tearing into one another, fighting to get to the exits, and as the crowds shifted so too did the plague of terror. A wicked roll of laughter spilled from the thin man’s lips and he said, “All your vaunted research and planning, and you didn’t even realize how well I’d perfectly my abilities. I bet you didn’t even realize I’d redesigned myself and made my fear effect into something virulent and communicable. Mass infection is so much more fun.”

Parker wasn’t laughing. Sweat dripped down his face as he fought to contain the effect, tried to halt each route even as two more opened. The situation was growing quickly out of control, and he should have known better than this. It had been amateurish to approach the skel in an open territory, even if he’d considered himself capable of containing the man’s extranormal abilities. And this was a mistake that was going to cost them dearly – in both lives and opportunity. This was a mistake he needed to rectify as quickly as possible.

“Gambit, I need some kind of static around our dance partner. Keep Mr. Fear off-balance and keep his blasted disease quarantined if you can. I’m going to quell the crowd,” Panic shouted out, moving erratically throughout the room and trying to get to the most-affected victims first.

Three cards appeared in the Cajun’s hands immediately, but his movements stopped there. Ruby-red eyes glared at Panic incredulously as Gambit replied, “How you suppose I do that, mon ami? Gambit got plenty of cards, but he ain’t got nothin’ in his bag of tricks to deal with dis.”

“What are you talking about, LeBeau?” Parker called after him, spinning in place. His hands filled with bright light, heat massaging his palms as he awaited an answer from the Cajun.

“You be crazy, Panic. De threat ain’t here no more. He’s flown the coop while you were strutting ‘round the room chasin’ shadows.” Gambit’s voice seemed more worried than anything, but there was still a tinge of mistrust echoing behind it.

Parker stopped in place, and his jaw dropped. His eyes closed for a moment, and he counted backward from five. When he opened his eyes again, everyone in the room had turned toward him, most with some degree of panic etched into their expressions.

Sighing deeply, Parker powered down and hung his head. Mr. Fear had played him like a fool, working on Parker’s worries instead of those in the room around him. An easier escape than trying to battle his way through a stampede. Raising the radio, Parker asked, “Circuit, please tell me you still have him on the grid.”

“That’s a negative boss,” the technopath called back over the feed. “Fear slipped the noose the minute I had to co-opt the media circuits to prevent the sideshow from broadcasting beyond Grand Central. We lost him.”

“Son of a…” Parker turned away and finished the rest beneath his breath. He didn’t need to lose his calm any more than he already had. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he motioned for Gambit. “Let’s go. We’ve already exposed ourselves enough here. Let’s salvage what little we have left of our dignity.”

“There’s some left?”

“Keep it up, smart-ass, and I’ll leave you here to do the press conference.”

As they exited the front doors of Grand Central Station, the Cajun tilted his head toward his boss and asked, “What about Mr. Fear?”

Panic looked briefly toward Gambit then turned his attentions back to the sidewalk before his feet. That was the nagging question, and Parker knew – more than anything – that the answer to that question would not be to his liking.

The flight home had been a quiet one, uncomfortable as the two women had kept their distance from one another and concentrated on the task of keeping the plane on-course. Grey Goose had moved to the back of the plane for the duration of the trip, consuming himself with a copy of Crime and Punishment. It was a mindless distraction, and he’d approached it as such. The characters, despite their intricacies and depth, had failed to capture him, and he chalked it up more to mood than anything else.

In front of him, a new life was waiting – a new home, a new group of friends and teammates. Thus far, the Underground had afforded him a wealth of opportunities to explore and expand upon his life, but that didn’t make this any less daunting than it already was. Deep in the pit of his being, he knew something great and frightening was coming, and he couldn’t shake loose of that feeling.

It was coming. And it was coming soon.