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Mutants & Masterminds: Future Imperfect - Judas Worming


z-Tyler Morgan

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June 15, 2010

"Ah, I hate this." His voice filled his Mumbai apartment with unwelcome sound, shattering even more of his composure. Grumbling under his breath, he rose, stalked to his fridge and grabbed a beer.

For Tyler, starting was the hardest part. Some people just dropped right into the operation without hesitation; he always hated the fretting and the worrying - the struggle to get it right. Building rapport was one of the things he was built for, but he still didn't enjoy it.

He was befriending people to betray them.

Tyler dropped back into his seat, his hazel eyes staring at his computer screen. He took a gulp of beer and ran his hand through his hair, glaring at his empty email, waiting to be composed. The cursor blinked at him like the world's thinnest middle finger, flashing before his eyes again and again.

"Damnit." He sat up straight and made himself enter the email address. Fill in the subject line. Move the cursor into the text box.

Celeste had it easy. She did what he did, but she always kept a part of herself back. Or maybe that was because she'd been doing this for fifteen years. As the oldest of the Et-als, she'd probably done this dozen of times. He had yet to bring a case to fruition. His first attempts to get in with a group had ended when the entire group had been killed by a third party. Three years of being on the back burner while Ronnie had run around with Travis had set him back again and there was the fact that these people didn't just trust anyone. Just getting this email, clearly a use-and-trash one, had taken a while.

"C'mon, just type something." His English teacher had told him that once. Except he hadn't said that to Tyler; he'd never had an English teacher. "C'mon, little wooden boy," he muttered, "dance!" His pep talk helped a little and he started to pick out letters.

Quote:
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: contract

A friend of mine has told me that a friend of yours recommends you for computer work. Since you're using what feels like a disposible email account, I'm assuming that I'll have to undergo some kind of inspection, test or maybe even a hazing.

Just be gentle. I scar easily.

Thirty minutes later, he made a final edit and sat back to read it again. Rotating his neck, he sighed, drained his beer and hit send.

Now, it was the waiting game.

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*Ding*

Sam woke up with a snort and quickly sat up. She absent-mindedly wiped away the smear of drool from her cheek and then used her sweatshirt to wipe it off the leather couch she had, once again, fallen asleep on. She looked down at the laptop that was balanced precariously on her outstretched leg and snatched it before it fell to the floor.

With a groan and a smack of distaste at her tacky morning-mouth, she tossed the computer aside and stood up, streching.

Caaauuuuuufeeeeee

She padded silently across the house on bare feet to the kitchen, redoing her ponytail as she walked. Sam picked up a mug from the counter and inspected it by sniff, and judging it with only a slight wrinkle of her nose, she poured Colombian brew from the automated Mr. Coffee into it.

She huddled over the cup held in both hands and took a large breath of the heavenly aroma. With her eyes finally starting to obey her command to 'open' she glanced at the blue LED's from the microwave that declared it in glaring luminosity that it was 6:32.

Braaarrrgh. Not outside today...I'll fry.

The coffee sufficiently cooled, she took a few sips before setting it down on the counter and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and a Hooah bar from the cupboard. With a thought, as she walked through the scarcely-decorated house and then upstairs, she turned on the treadmill, the adjoining tv, and had her laptop reboot. She could hear her cellphone yelling the morning alarm from the bathroom as she climbed the stairs.

So that's where I left it. For someone with a perfect memory, you lose that damn phone a lot.

She snagged the phone from the sink, (The sink?) and silenced the alarm before continuing on her way to her workout room. The room, like most of the house, was fairly bare. It held a Precor treadmill, a large Panasonic plasma TV mounted on the wall, a small rack of weights, and a mini-fridge.

She slipped on the running shoes by the machine and hopped on the treadmill and started up her program, taking it easy with a light walk as she warmed up. The talking head was going on about yesterday's events in the sports world, so she tuned it out and checked her email on her phone as she cranked the volume on the Precor's radio.

Quote:
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: contract

A friend of mine has told me that a friend of yours recommends you for computer work. Since you're using what feels like a disposible email account, I'm assuming that I'll have to undergo some kind of inspection, test or maybe even a hazing.

Just be gentle. I scar easily.

Sam smirked and hastily thought out a reply.

Quote:
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Re:contract

Details are good.

She smiled again and shook her head as she checked the rest of her email. ...be gentle, heh.

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Tyler settled back in his chair, opening up the Virtual Journal of Lasers website. He had some time to kill before his reply and bedtime; time to catch up on his reading. He'd just settled into In situ observation of self-organizing nanodot formation under nanosecond-pulsed laser irradiation on Si surface when his email pinged. Surprised, he checked, sure he'd just gotten some spam. Instead, it was his contact.

Originally Posted By: 5:40 p.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Re:contract

Details are good.

"That was a short game," he muttered, pleasantly surprised. That was a promising first step. Humming to himself, Tyler began working on a response.

Originally Posted By: 6:00 p.m. IST
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: contract

Name: Tyler Eugene Morgan

DoB: 1/15/1983

Social: Very

Also social: 554-88-6225

Blood type: B-

Firstborn: Already promised to someone else

Martial status: Very single

Citizenship: United States

Residence: Mumbai

Employer: MumTek International

Position: Project Lead (Laser Division)

Likes: Pina Colatas and walks in the rain. And puppies.

What'd I forget?

He considered taking some of the flippant replies out, but couldn't bring himself to edit them. Grinning, he hit 'send' and returned to his article.

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Sam was working on her fourth mile, her feet pounding out imaginary miles, when the Mario Bros. coin 'ding' emanating from her phone alerted her to a new email. She glanced at the screen as the email opened.

Originally Posted By: 6:00 p.m. IST
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: contract

Name: Tyler Eugene Morgan

DoB: 1/15/1983

Social: Very

Also social: 554-88-6225

Blood type: B-

Firstborn: Already promised to someone else

Martial status: Very single

Citizenship: United States

Residence: Mumbai

Employer: MumTek International

Position: Project Lead (Laser Division)

Likes: Pina Colatas and walks in the rain. And puppies.

What'd I forget?

"So you're one of those types huh?" Sam said to herself, smiling.

The 'International' in the name of his company was a huge mark against him, but he was witty. Depending on the job details and how he checked out, this could prove to at the very least, be amusing. She hastily thought out a reply and sent it off to India.

Would you like a squishee? ...Ooh, that sounds good...

Originally Posted By: 6:05 p.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Re:contract

despite the apparent narcissus-syndrome, job details are good too.

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After getting such a fast response before, Tyler wasn't surprised at his email chime. He clicked the window open again and opened the message. The response had him laughing.

Originally Posted By: 6:07 p.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Re:contract

despite the apparent narcissus-syndrome, job details are good too.

"Touché," he murmured, still smiling as he got down to the business he needed. He was amazed that it was going so well; of course, this was the easy part. He was talking to a faceless machine - meeting in person, if it came to that, would be the hard part.

His reply was formulated rapidly; he knew what he needed and it only took a few minutes to type it out.

Originally Posted By: 6:13 p.m. IST
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: Re:Re: contract

Hmm. Usually people find me more interesting than my job. Well, in simple terms, I need a targeting program for a laser. I'll probably need some help getting the computer hooked up to the laser, too. I can build a laser but I'm not sure how to connect the two. I could guess, but I hate guessing on something that could hurt someone. And its not like I can call in the IT guys on this. Effectively, you're my IT guy. Or gal. Or... whatever third option there might be.

I also want a kill switch - hard-kill as opposed to a program.

"Now we learn if I'm talking to the right people," Tyler muttered and sent the email. Once again, he started to return to his journal. Anticipating a rapid response, he stopped himself; he was going to just be getting into it when he got his reply, he was sure. Instead, he swiveled his chair to see the television. A flick of the remote brought up the local news but he grimaced as he heard Hindi coming from the speakers. He pressed a few more buttons and powered up the DVR, selecting this week's Mad Men instead. He really needed to hear some English right now.

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Sam was in the middle of a steep inclined 'hill' when her phone alerted her to another message. The distraction was kind of annoying, generally no one she dealt with was up this early and this was her 'me' time to wake up, process the previous day's events and prepare herself for the day to come. That he had replied so quickly was kind of a surprise, she had figured it would take him a little more time to get approval to go transmitting details of something that had to be proprietary. So it was with a bit of a black cloud over her head that she opened the latest message, wiping away a drip of sweat from her eyebrow.

Originally Posted By: 6:13 p.m. IST
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: Re:Re: contract

Hmm. Usually people find me more interesting than my job. Well, in simple terms, I need a targeting program for a laser. I'll probably need some help getting the computer hooked up to the laser, too. I can build a laser but I'm not sure how to connect the two. I could guess, but I hate guessing on something that could hurt someone. And its not like I can call in the IT guys on this. Effectively, you're my IT guy. Or gal. Or... whatever third option there might be.

I also want a kill switch - hard-kill as opposed to a program.

"Wow that was detailed." Sam mumbled, shaking her head in disgust. "Okay Mr. Morgan, if you won't provide the 411, I will."

She waited until the incline was over and then logged into her laptop with a minimal effort of thought, beginning her normal background check on prospective work.

Well, he is who he says he is...and he's got the money...and he's hawt! Alright, maybe I can do something for him...but dammit, why does he have to be some corps lapdog. Oh! He's a mutant...light manip...that's cool...explains the lasers.

She started rattling off a response to him while she kept digging.

Let's see, no pets, no siblings...

Sam stumbled at the next bit of information and as soon as she partially stepped off the belt, the treadmill stopped dead. She regained her balance and held onto the bars as sought to recollect herself. She pulled up the report again and forced herself to read it.

No way. Both parents dead, nearly the same time...but to be killed like that...

The information drudged up painful memories of her own parents' death at the hands of the Virus. This caused an instant cascade of angry emotion. She ground her teeth and had a death-grip on the foam-padded handles of the treadmill and then the hair on her arms started to stand up and all the sweat on her body instantly evaporated. A moment later the TV flickered and then went black, followed quickly by the treadmill and even the mini-fridge shuddered to a stop. Before she could reel herself in, more power was pulled until the breakers started popping, one by one, clacking in quick succession.

Fuck it! Not fucking fair...

She finally collapsed and fell into sobs. Her tears sparked as electricity bled off of her, arcing as it sought ground.

"Get out of my fucking head!" she cried out in desperation, a hostage to her own painfully perfect memory.

Sam cried it out, feeling wasted and spent by the time the last bolt had fizzled off her skin. She pulled herself up, her joints screaming in protest.

Stupid Virus.

Peeling singed clothing off as she slowly headed to the shower, she used her neighbor's internet to add one more line to the email before sending it off.

Originally Posted By: 6:29 p.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Re: contract

I think you find yourself more interesting than most people would.

And while I know what you look like, and I appreciate your flirting, you have no idea whether or not I'm some 200kg chinese nerd with an anime fetish drooling over your 'very single' marital status.

I can help with the targeting program and kill switch. I will need detailed schematics and at least an overview of what you are looking for. Attached is a secure email that you can forward the information to along with my fee.

Also, sorry about your parents.

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It actually took his mystery-man/woman/other some time to reply, making Tyler wish he'd just read the article. However, the episode of Mad Men was entertaining enough that he found himself sighing when he heard his email announce the arrival of a missive. Pausing the show, he turned to see what he'd been sent.

Originally Posted By: 6:29 p.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Re: contract

I think you find yourself more interesting than most people would.

And while I know what you look like, and I appreciate your flirting, you have no idea whether or not I'm some 200kg chinese nerd with an anime fetish drooling over your 'very single' marital status.

I can help with the targeting program and kill switch. I will need detailed schematics and at least an overview of what you are looking for. Attached is a secure email that you can forward the information to along with my fee.

Also, sorry about your parents.

The email had Tyler grinning in amusement. I think I like you, he thought just as his eyes dropped to the last line. That one wiped the smile off his face. His eyes darted to the right of his monitor, where a picture of Henry and Jen Morgan smiled at him. It was natural, he'd told himself over and over, to have a picture of your dead parents around. Normal, even.

He still felt guilty about it. He wondered if they would approve of him being a spy.

Tyler turned his gaze back to his screen. Slowly, awkwardly, he picked out a reply, trying for a humor he no longer felt.

Originally Posted By: 6:42 p.m. IST
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: Re:Re:Re: contract

For all you know, my fetish is 200kg Chinese nerds. Especially with anime fetishes. Those people come with their own costumes, you know.

I'll forward on the information and fee before I bed down for the night with my hello kitty dolls.

And thanks for the condolences.

Tyler

The last line was the hardest. He wanted to acknowledge the sentiment somehow, because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, it had meant something to him. Finally, he just signed his name to it as a silent way of saying what it had meant – mostly because putting that into words was just too sappy as well as being unnecessary. Sighing, he sent the message, then opened another email and input the secure address.

His eyes flicked up to his parents’ picture again; frowning, he reached out and laid it down on its face. It was stupid and he knew it. But he couldn’t do this with them watching.

Compiling the full information took some time. He included the schematics, leaving out only a few details – namely, the part that would make this actually work as a weapon. Someone could build a laser from these, but it wouldn’t burn holes in something instantly. So few people understood that; they thought that lasers were much more destructive than they actually were. Once his contact had gotten him the program and hooked it to a computer, he would go back and weaponize it.

He included a more detailed idea of what he wanted the program to be able to target and how – namely rapidly acquiring moving targets like people. He was sure that a targeting system was simple to build but he had no idea how to go about doing it and that lack of knowledge gave him a reason to reach out. He asked about infrared, night vision and some other options, his fingers flying over the keys as he worked. Tyler wasn’t sure how much of what he was asking for was fantasy and how much was possible – that’s what he was paying his contact for. He was sure that he’d get told if something couldn’t be done. Or not. He might be getting robbed.

“Cheerful thought,” he muttered as he transferred the money to a double-blind account. He added the account’s information to the email, knowing that it’d be drained within seconds of him sending the email. “And away we go,” he said, hitting send.

Continued in Little Wooden Boy...

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Sam was still in the shower, letting the scalding hot water wash away the aches caused by the Virus when her phone alerted her to the multitude of emails concerning a deposit to one of her accounts, a secure email notification, the notification of the secure email itself.

Not his fault you're screwed up.

She sighed as she turned off the water and opened the door to the shower stall, the rush of heat instantly fogging up the mirror and leaving a wispy haze hanging in the air. Without power, there was no fan, and no light. The early morning beams penetrating this far into the house were not enough to do much by, let alone dry her hair, so she wrapped herself and her hair in a towel before slowly walking downstairs and to the pantry where the fuse box was located.

After moving aside the step ladder, she opened the panel and restored power to all the circuits, flicking the switches one by one. As she plodded back to the bathroom, picking up her discarded clothing along the way, she mentally went through and reset all the clocks in the house.

She took her time getting ready, not really in any rush and doing her best to push her parents out of her mind by beginning the layout of the requisitioned program. As she pulled on her last sock, she had already inputted a first draft outline of the program on her laptop.

She darted into the workout room to snag her phone before she rounded up her laptop and headed to the basement.

Originally Posted By: 6:42 p.m. IST
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: Re:contract

For all you know, my fetish is 200kg Chinese nerds. Especially with anime fetishes. Those people come with their own costumes, you know.

I'll forward on the information and fee before I bed down for the night with my hello kitty dolls.

And thanks for the condolences.

Tyler

Sam snorted as laughter caught her by surprise and she quickly covered her mouth, "Hello kitty, ha!" She checked the other emails, but only to verify them quickly as she hit the light switch that opened the panel that once she inputted the correct code and had her retina scanned, opened a door to an 'accelerated walkway' that would take her to the Underground.

A few minutes later, she was at another door, and after going through similar, but slightly more thorough security measures, a thick blast door opened and she was allowed inside. Her father's old access opened directly into the computer room that had become Sam's second home and the place that everyone in the Mutant Underground knew they could find her, assuming she hadn't locked herself in.

One wall was nearly covered in a mounted flat screen that could be divided up on command into smaller screens of varying sizes. Before it was a complex control panel that Sam had slowly customized over the years, giving her access to the gentrified lair. Along the opposite wall was a nice brown leather couch with two zebra-patterned throw pillows. A black fridge with a microwave on top and a small home-sized soda fountain sat along the south wall that also had a door that led further into the base.

She spent some time examining the schematics, uploading a copy for her own use later.

I could build that, with some time and a shit-ton of money. Would bore a hole in just about anything. Wonder what they're gonna use it for...sure as hell ain't mining...unless they're mining tanks. Don't need targeting systems like he's asking for unless you're shooting moving targets. He probably just left that part out of the design he sent me...bout as clever as a stick.

While she ordered the parts and laptop she would need, Sam tried to dig a little deeper on Tyler, her intuition telling her he wasn't the good ol' hot single smartass she hoped he was.

Womanizing bastard! Why am I not surprised...jerk.

Deflated, she prattled off another response.

Originally Posted By: 8:01 p.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Dr. Evil's "laser"

Make sure you pack one when you bring the laser for testing.

Program will be ready for beta testing when you get here.(to the states)

Then she started coding.

Wonder if Mouse is busy...

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Tyler’s living space, Mumbai, India

6:05 a.m. IST

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh gaaaawwwwwwd.”

The painful moan filled the room and Tyler’s head as Tyler’s body told him he’d had enough sleep for now. “Why can’t I remember to drink some water?” he hissed as he rolled into something more or less upright. The room didn’t help, spinning around him like a top. Moaning, he put his head in his hands.

A buzzing noise made his entire body jerk in agony and tore a soft moan out of him. The buzzing came again, followed by his answering machine picking up. The voice of his book agent, distilled through his answering machine, drifted in from the room, and Tyler once again cursed the fact that the man couldn’t figure out the time difference between New York and India.

Shambling to his feet, he checked the time and more or less walked into the kitchen. He forced himself to guzzle a glass of water with four Tylenol before he oozed into his living room. Passing the computer, he reflexively grabbed his remote before dropping onto his couch. A flick of his wrist turned it on, bringing up the Mad Man he’d paused. Grimacing, Tyler exited the show and pulled up the local news.

The next thirty minutes were spent absorbing Mumbai doings before he turned over to CNN, watching the day’s events. By the time he’d finished that, he felt good enough to heat up a Hot Pocket and face his computer. He was pleased, in a distant, foggy sort of way, to see a reply from 1558433512488. “I guess this is moving forward,” he said, frowning.

He shouldn’t be having mixed reactions about this. He should just be calmly and coolly proceeding. Sighing, he opened the email.

Originally Posted By: 8:01 p.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Dr. Evil's "laser"

Make sure you pack you pack one when you bring the laser for testing.

Program will be ready for beta testing when you get here.(to the states)

“Guess I’m in,” he said, biting into his Hot Pocket. He was rewarded with a burst of hot cheese, leaving him wincing and trying to juggle it with and off his tongue. “Fuuuhhh,” he growled, putting down the vile cheese-dough-meat concoction and sucking cooler air into his mouth. Once he had cooled it enough to swallow without melting his throat, he wiped his eyes and began a reply.

Originally Posted By: 7:13 a.m. IST
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: Dr. Evil's "laser"

Few questions. You got somewhere to reassemble the parts once I’m there? I’ll need at least a two-car garage amount of space; this thing doesn’t fit in a briefcase yet. It also needs to be a clean room, class ISO 1. I’ll need access to water, electricity and the room has to have good ventilation. It should have fire suppression systems, for what I hope are obvious reasons.

How long will your part take? Just to put the laser together will be several hours; more if something breaks in-transit and I have to replace. Calibration and safety checks will be at least two days.

Where in the States? You’re talking a lot of ground there, my Chinese dumpling. Seriously, it’s probably best if you come to my place; I can, with effort, sneak you into the building if you’re shy.

Tyler sent it and picked up his now-warm food, choking it down. Was it just me or was that last email a little less friendly than the one before?

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Sam was sucking the last of the juice from the orange Otter Pop that hung from her mouth like an artificial tongue when Brickhead trundled in. That wasn't his real name, Eugene was, but no one knew that, not even Brickhead himself. Sam had tried to tell him more than once, but he rarely remembered it past the end of the conversation and Sam had long ago gave up in frustration. He knew Brickhead and responded to it, so that is what she resorted to calling him, whether it sounded insulting or not.

She swiveled around in her chair at the sound of his approach, taking in the giant 6'7" bulky man. She hated to call his description stereotypical, but it was. If there was a living Neanderthal, Brickhead would be it, complete with sloped forehead, ridged brow and lots of shaggy hair. He was dressed in overalls and a t-shirt stained with ketchup, which didn't help his outward persona. Overall, he was very intimidating, but Sam knew he was just a big teddy bear.

"Hey, Brick." Sam said, pulling the plastic from her mouth.

"Sam ask for me?" Brickhead responded, his deep baritone vibrating through his chest.

"Yeah, I have your new ID card..." she said as she pulled it from her sweatshirt, "do you promise not to lose this one?"

Three days, tops.

"Yeesss." he replied, looking excited, and yet humble at the same time. He'd been eager to go outside, but no one was allowed without a registration card, even if wasn't real. It saved the Underground time and manpower in trying to recover someone if they got captured and kept Sam from trying to wipe all the records of the capture.

Sam stood up and slid it down into the front bib pocket of the overalls and gave him a pat on the chest, "There ya go big guy."

"Thank you." he said, wrapping her up in a massive, not-so-sweet-smelling hug.

"Ugh...you're welcome." Sam gasped out, struggling to no avail. "You can have a popsicle..."

He dropped the hug and immediately went to the freezer.

"What color do you want?" Sam asked, stretching a bit as she took a full breath.

"Orange!"

Sam opened the freezer and pulled one from the box, "Is this orange?" she asked, holding up green.

"NO THANK YOU!" he bellowed, acting a bit angry.

Sam put it back and pulled another, "Is this orange?" she asked again, holding up red.

"YES!" he exclaimed, snagging it from her grasp and tearing it open with his teeth as he quickly walked out.

I'll never get how he can confuse those two.

As she walked back to her desk, the notification for an email from Tyler popped up.

Originally Posted By: 7:13 a.m. IST
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com

From: pin1200@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: Dr. Evil's "laser"

Few questions. You got somewhere to reassemble the parts once I’m there? I’ll need at least a two-car garage amount of space; this thing doesn’t fit in a briefcase yet. It also needs to be a clean room, class ISO 1. I’ll need access to water, electricity and the room has to have good ventilation. It should have fire suppression systems, for what I hope are obvious reasons.

How long will your part take? Just to put the laser together will be several hours; more if something breaks in-transit and I have to replace. Calibration and safety checks will be at least two days.

Where in the States? You’re talking a lot of ground there, my Chinese dumpling. Seriously, it’s probably best if you come to my place; I can, with effort, sneak you into the building if you’re shy.

Dumpling? AMG is he for real?

She typed up a fast reply, wishing she had doubled her fee.

Originally Posted By: 7:15 a.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com

From: 1558433512488@gmail.com

Subject: Re: Dr. Evil's "laser"

I can arrange for facilities in Las Vegas at UNLV that will satisfy all of your requests.

Freak.

Without pausing, she sent off another email

Originally Posted By: 6:17 p.m. PST
To: Thomas.Messini@unlv.edu

From: margiesparks@gmail.com

Subject: Experiment

Evening Thomas,

I have a colleague flying into town soon, and was wondering if I could book a week of time at the 'big lab'?

Hugs,

Margie

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Originally Posted By: 7:15 a.m. IST
To: pin1200@yahoo.com
From: 1558433512488@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Dr. Evil's "laser"

I can arrange for facilities in Las Vegas at UNLV that will satisfy all of your requests.


Yeah, a lot less friendly. It had to have been the hello kitty stuff. Someone does not have a sense of humor. Tyler sighed and dropped his skull against the headrest of the chair. “God,” he moaned. “I suck at this.”

Still, he had a job to do. Sitting back up, he leaned over the keyboard again and started typing.

Quote:
To: 1558433512488@gmail.com
From: pin1200@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: Dr. Evil's "laser"

Sounds good. I’ll have the parts shipped over, so I’ll need an address…


He finished up the list of things he’d need to make arrangements and sent off the email. Then he pulled a notebook over to him and started to make a list of all the things he’d need to do for the trip. “I hate Vegas,” he muttered as he started his list.

June 29, 2010, 11:42 a.m.

A Gate, McCarran International Airport, Los Vegas, NV, US


“God, I hate Vegas,” Tyler muttered, slipping on a pair of sunglasses as he got in line at customs. It wasn’t that much hotter than India, but he could already feel the dry heat, even in the air conditioned building. It wasn’t the place so much; it was who lived here. Kincaid. Ronnie, too, but that was just uncomfortable. None of the Et-als liked to get too close to another’s ‘territory’.

A pudgy man with long, brown hair drawn into a pony tail waved him forward. The TSA uniform was trying its hardest to hold him all in, but Tyler caught a glimpse of undershirt through a gap between buttons. He had eyes that would have looked larger if the man hadn’t been overweight and a wide mouth ringed with a goatee. The better to eat with, Tyler snorted to himself. His nametag said ‘Bruce’. “Papers, please,” Bruce intoned with the same inflection that Nazis used.

“Yes, Mein Furher!” Tyler said in a cheesy German faux accent before he could stop himself, holding the papers out with flourish.

The man glared at him and started going through the papers, checking them closely for mistakes. Tyler was pleasantly surprised when Bruce didn’t react to his Class II papers; he would have thought that a bully would have zeroed in on them. Finding nothing he could harass Tyler about, the agent asked, “Do you have anything to declare? Any restricted items in your luggage?”

“A couple of Playboys and the album version of Sexyback,” Tyler quipped. As Bruce all but snarled at him, Tyler said, “Oh, you said restricted, not explicit. Sorry, selective hearing.”

“You know, I think you’ve just been randomly selected for a luggage search and strip search,” Bruce said with a nasty smile.

“Anything to see my tight bod, huh? Well, lead on,” Tyler said. He’d known it would come to this the moment he’d started smarting off; might as well have some fun with it.

Forty minutes later, Tyler was released from security, only a little worse for wear. Despite Bruce’s animosity, the guy who’d actually done the search was professional, if personally thorough. “Welcome to Vegas,” Tyler grumbled as he hooked his sunglasses on his jacket pocket. He’d opted to wear a collared shirt, no tie, with a nice jacket. He’d gone with jeans rather than the dress pants for comfort; after almost twenty-four hours in the air, he was thankful he’d done just that. "And remember, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas..."

He hooked his carryon over his neck and shoulder, adjusting the computer bag so that it hung at his hip. Sighing, he took a firmer hold on his suitcase’s leather pull and started forward, wondering if his contact had given up on him. It’d be my luck, he sighed to himself, suddenly feeling every hour of that twenty-four in the air. “Hello, jet-lag,” he muttered, scanning the crowd for someone with a sign bearing his name – possibly even a 200 kilo Chinese person.
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Originally Posted By: Tyler Morgan
He hooked his carryon over his neck and shoulder, adjusting the computer bag so that it hung at his hip. Sighing, he took a firmer hold on his suitcase’s leather pull and started forward, wondering if his contact had given up on him. It’d be my luck, he sighed to himself, suddenly feeling every hour of that twenty-four in the air. “Hello, jet-lag,” he muttered, scanning the crowd for someone with a sign bearing his name – possibly even a 200 kilo Chinese person.


Sam hated going in public, she always got stared at and small children were herded by paranoid parents from her path. It would be suspicious to be dressed in full sweats at the airport, more so with the hood up, so she was regulated to trying to appear, 'normal' if even that action proved to do the opposite. She was dressed in a pair of well fitting jeans and a plain pink babydoll t-shirt with a grey zip-up sweatshirt over it. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, though most of her recently dyed red streak was framing the right side of her face, accentuating the green of her eyes, and the muted green of the lines on her skin.

Her link was active to check Tyler's arrival, which was on time, at least. She was watching for him via the airport's security cameras, which had been annoyingly difficult to get into, and her runny nose proved it. She hopped out of her F-150 once she had spotted him, grabbing the newly purchased Hello Kitty doll and heading for the terminal.

Sam dropped the link immediately, not wanting more attention than she was bound to get and headed directly for Tyler. She spotted him first as he was facing away and she walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around in surprise, she was caught off guard.

AMG, he's hawter in person. Even jet-lagged like a mofo.

"Uh..um," she stuttered for a moment before collecting herself, "I'm Margie...here this is for you." and she thrust the stuffed kitty at him.

Smooth, so, so smooth, Sam. Why don't you just rip off his shirt and lick him.

"How was your flight?" she asked, trying to regain her dignity.
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Tyler was still looking when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Hopeful that it was his contact, he turned around to see a tall but slight woman looking up at him. He instinctively made eye contact and was instantly caught by the incredible green of her eyes. Tyler managed to blink after a second and see more; the sharp features filled with defensive confidence, the colored hair and the unique pattern across her skin. Kinda like freckles, he thought and his brain immediately noted that it seemed to continue down under her clothing and what fun he could have playing “Connect the Dots”.

He realized he was staring and jolted himself out of his fugue. He took the toy and grinned at it, feeling better instantly. Maybe she does have a sense of humor. He’d honestly been dreading working with his contact after the last couple of emails, sure that he’d be stuck dealing with some humorless stick in the mud. Tyler was pleased to find he had hope of this not sucking. He was also happy this wasn’t some fan, and her introduction had immediately established that. “Aww, this is perfect,” he said, a boyish smile lighting up his tired features. “Thank you!

“And, uh, Margie, so good to meet you,” he said, tucking the toy into one hand and offering the other to shake. He answered her question as she gamely shook. “And my flight was… great, now that I’ve landed.” He shrugged and said, “I don’t think there’s any way that a twenty-four hour air trip can be defined as good other than ‘good we finally arrived’.”

He paused and the awkward silence rose quickly. “My truck’s this way,” Margie said quickly, gesturing vaguely.

“Yes, let’s go,” Tyler said. They walked along for a moment before he said, “I had my assistant book me rooms at a hotel near the campus, but if you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.” He personally hoped it would be Come stay with me but he had sincere doubts that was the case. And doubts were no reason not to ask if she did have a better idea than the Hyatt Place Las Vegas.

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"You could stay with me." Sam said.

Did I just say that out loud? Keep it secret, keep it safe, Sam! He's hot...hold it together!...This is not going like I thought it would.

"I mean...um..at my house...in a different room." she stuttered, turning a rather bright shade of red.

Why did you clarify!? Now he knows you want him!

"Of course." Tyler responded, placating her.

The lines and dots flashed green for a moment, almost like a wave passed over her as she started her truck and got the AC going. "You don't have to, it was just an offer...I hear the Hyatt has great towels."

Towels?! Shut. Up. Now.

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Tyler's eyes widened when she actually did offer her place. He was shocked into near silence, then distracted by the wave of color that lit up her digital 'freckles'. I wonder what other circumstances she'll light up under, he mused.

Then she mentioned towels. Tyler tried, but he couldn't stop the laugh that burst out of him. It was short and he quickly got it back under control, but he'd still laughed when she was obviously floundering socially. It was not the way to make friends and gain her confidence.

He thought he had it under control, until he spoke. "So, are you saying your towels are sub-par?" he asked, his mouth shooting off before he could stop it. "On a scale of one-to-Hyatt, where are your towels?"

Still, her awkwardness was indicative of one thing: she didn't make this offer often. Tyler found himself a little touched - and turned on - by her kindness.

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Sam was saved from responding immediately by the proximity of her vehicle. She used the key fob to unlock it while Tyler loaded his bags into the back. She pulled herself into the relatively new interior of the 2011 model F-150 and took comfort in large amount of electronics that were surrounding her. She took a deep breath before Tyler got in to calm herself.

"They're easily a seven." she answered as she buckled in and backed out of the parking space. "Is that good enough for you? I wouldn't want you to be too uncomfortable."

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"Yes, that's more than fine," Tyler said, smiling as he settled in and buckled up. Hello Kitty was left on his lap while the computer case slid under his legs. "Really, I appreciate the offer. Are you sure I wouldn't be imposing?"

"Nah, there's plenty of space. The room service kinda sucks though, just warnin' ya," she smiled as they got underway.

"Alright, then that sounds better than a hotel," Tyler answered, smiling. "Thank you, again." Pretty smile.

A smile you're going to betray. To turn over to UNISON. Even if Margie wasn't involved in anything nefarious, a mutant terrorist group had her name. She was going to come under suspicion, at the very least; have her life poked into and violated. That removed his smile. Noting his sudden change, Margie asked, "You okay?"

"Jet lag," he said. In a second, he decided to take her into his confidence and muttered, "Better than the alternative." She frowned at him and he cleared his throat, looking a little nervous. "Yeah... it's a trick that I can do that isn't on public records. I can teleport just about anywhere in the world, but if I go too far, it sparks an outbreak of the virus. Even when it doesn't, it leaves me completely dizzy for a minute or too." He ran his thumbs over the plush face of the doll as he added, "I'd appreciate if you didn't tell that to anyone of an official bent."

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Jet lag my ass. I missed something on his dig.

The sudden reveal of information, whether it was a vote of confidence or not, put Sam on edge. She thought she knew everything there was to know about someone she had just agreed to let stay at her home, so near the Mutant Underground and now that idea had sent to the Recycle Bin, along with her mental file of what she thought she knew about him.

His whole file could be a work-up. He very well could have been sent after me, or Mu, or he's investigating the Parade.

"Yeah, no worries on that from me. I'm not the type to go spillin' secrets..." Sam said, pausing a moment in confusion, as she glanced at him nonchalantly, "But why are you telling me? You have no idea who I am."

Some random person you just met to do black market work for a laser you plan to shoot at things is not the most likely source for your new BFF confidant. Why are you trying to work me?

Sam was about ready to change her mind and send him to the hotel, if not packing his curry-smelling bags back to Mumbai. The integrity of her work and the people under her charge was not worth her desire to get laid.

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Tyler sensed the confusion and cursed himself. Stop trying, he ordered himself. He was charming enough on his own without forcing it. After all, he'd been made that way. "I don't know," he said, letting his voice soften. "I can't tell most people stuff like that. My assistant is the closest..." He stopped. Celeste had once told him the best lies were ones that were true, but he didn't want to talk about this, not really. He didn't want to tell the pretty girl that he was a friendless loser. He shrugged, feeling tired and depressed.

"I guess part of me wanted to tell someone who I knew wouldn't turn me in," he said. "I haven't told anyone what I can really do in a long time." That was true; the Et-als had known what he could do at his creation. He hadn't shared with Eila because she'd been selected as his assistant by MumTek and he wasn't sure he could trust her. The last people he could remember telling had been his mom and dad - and that was a lie.

"And no, I don't know who you are. But I do know what you've agreed to do, and where I got your information from," Tyler pointed out, still looking tired. "So I'm pretty sure you've already figured out that if you turn me in, I'll turn you in. In that light, I don't have much to lose when getting something like this off my chest." He paused and added, "Or so I assumed - I've never done anything like this before."

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...turn me in, I'll turn you in... The echoed thought reverberated through Sam's skull like a jackhammer wielding groundhog. ...don't have much to lose...

Possible scenarios flipped through her head quickly based on the available choices and she let the one she desired most play out in her head for a moment.

Sam slammed on the breaks, nearly forcing Tyler to eat dash while the car behind her blared its horn as it swerved around her, nearly clipping her rear bumper. She yanked her pepper spray from her purse, dousing Tyler in it and then beat him soundly with the empty can...

Sam shook off the fantasy and gave the steering wheel a good friction burn before she spoke, "Point taken. You seem to have everything figured out." Sam said plainly, biting back her temper.

Her skin flashed again, as she subconsciously bypassed the exit from the parking garage, making the arm raise with a casual thought instead of payment. The route she started on as she left the aiport, was not that of Henderson and her home, it was towards the campus and the Hyatt.

The 'dick' part of his profile is spot on. What an ass.

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Tyler only needed to glance at her face briefly to know that he wasn't making friends. A tiny part of him was glad; the less they liked one another, the less personal this would be later. Another part of him knew that he had to do his job. But there was a third part of him that really wanted to know the girl behind the angry scowl; to see why she looked at the world with such a defensive attitude.

"I have a congenital disease called being a smart ass," he said simply. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, feeling Hello Kitty's soft fur against his other. "I don't know what I'm doing or what to say. I've never done anything like this before. I didn't want to upset you, but managed to do it anyway. I'm sorry."

His voice rang with sincerity. He was being truthful; he really was sorry. He hated disappointing pretty women. When she glanced at him, his handsome face was contrite.

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Sam's stubborn temper was not going to release anytime soon, if ever. Veiled threats was not something she took lightly, nor likely to be solved with a simple 'I'm sorry I'm stupid." However, she would be good to her word and complete the work he wanted done, but that would be the end of it. His back and forth between self-proclaimed smart ass and puppy dog eyes had already gotten old. Sam couldn't think how any self-respecting woman had ever allowed themselves to be taken in by it and must have been heavily medicated or had a frontal lobotomy in their recent past.

"Sure." Sam said, nodding and shrugging off the lackluster apology. She didn't really care what Tyler said at this point, she had some modifications to the program she needed to do before he could take off with it and she was eager to get him kicked to the curb at the hotel. Luckily for Sam, the Hyatt was only a couple miles away from the terminal.

She pulled into the parking lot of the hotel a little faster than she should have and stopped under the awning at the front door before putting the truck in park.

"Here ya go. I'll meet you tomorrow at seven at the Science and Engineering building on the north end of campus...Questions?" She swiveled her head towards him, clearly hoping he did not actually have an inquiry.

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“Nope, I’m good,” Tyler said, hiding his disappointment. “See you tomorrow.” He popped out of the truck and grabbed his bags. “Thanks for the ride and the gift.”

“Don’t mention it,” Margie replied and Tyler understood that she meant that literally. He stepped back from the truck as she took off faster than was strictly necessary.

“Ugh,” he muttered as he turned around and walked into the hotel. “Well done, Tyler.” He managed to keep the comments to himself as he checked in and went to his room. On the upside, his room was nice with a full entry room and comfortable couches. The bed was less so, at least for him; this mattress was not his beloved memory foam.

Tyler forced himself to stay up for a few more hours; he needed to adjust his schedule. Having done this dozens of times, he knew what he needed to do to acclimate, even if it sucked. So he managed to hold out until midnight before he gave up and crawled into bed. Despite his subpar mattress, he was still asleep within seconds.

The next morning, he was at the door to the Science and Engineering Building, slouching on a bench. A bag of donuts and two cups of coffee in a carrier waited with him. “Morning,” he said cheerfully as she approached. He’d already determined that he was going to be nothing but polite to her. If she wanted to be polite, they could have a decent time. If she wanted to be a bitch, there was nothing Tyler could do about that. “Donut? Coffee?”

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Sam was dressed in a matching set of UNLV sweats, one size too big, seemingly in defiance of the heat that was only just getting started. Her hair was pulled back and braided, still wet from her shower earlier. She had a black leather laptop bag slung over one shoulder, balanced with her purse over the other.

"Sure...thanks." Sam said, taking the proffered coffee. She had drained her own and had left the commuter cup in her truck. When he offered the donuts, she waved them off.

If this is drugged, I swear to God I am going to zap your junk so bad you'll never pee straight again.

She had been up most of the night working on compiling code with Mouse, ensuring that the targeting system would work how she wanted it to. Whenever she came across a problem, Mouse always seemed to be able to figure out where it was, lucky bastard. She figured she had at least one more day to work on it, barring another surprise. Tyler had said it would take a couple days to put together the laser.

She sipped on the coffee as she yanked open the door to the building. She held it for Tyler, gesturing with her head for him to head in. She led the way down the hall, her steps echoing on the floor since it was relatively quiet during the summer with only a few classes, and even fewer labs. They walked into the interior of the building, taking two turns before arriving at a windowless door. Sam pulled an ID badge from the pouch pocket of her sweatshirt and waved it in front of the reader by the handle. The LED changed from red to green and she pulled the door open for Tyler again.

It led into a prep room, There were various suits depending on need, static, chemical or biological and a bank of lockers to stow belongings. They would enter the lab through an intermediary chamber, though the lab itself could be seen through mesh laden glass to the right, where stacked containers held the parts for the laser.

"Okay, what now?" Sam asked, playing dumb.

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Tyler unslung his laptop bag and pulled out a post it note. He wrote 'Help Yourself' on the note then stuck it to the bag. Taking one of the donuts out, he left the rest to the mercy of hungry college students.

"First we suit up," Tyler said, his voice becoming more brisk as he settled into his element. Turning, he eyed her; though it wasn't at all sexual, Sam wished it were so she could tell him to knock it off. It was thorough, flashing from her head to her feet. He poked through the hanging static suits until he found one and tossed it to her. "That should fit you." He selected a suit for himself and pulled it on over his clothing. Next he selected booties for his shoes, handing Margie a pair, too.

Once they were ready, he led them into the room. He examined the boxes, looking over them for signs of damage. Those he opened first to make sure that the contents were alright. Next he checked each of the other boxes to make sure that their contents were safe. Once he was satisfied that everything was good, he turned to 'Margie'. "Let's build a laser." The boyish delight on his face was unmistakable.

The next several hours were informative for the young cyberkenetic. Tyler's enthusiasm was contagious and he spent a lot of time explaining the laser and the way it worked to Sam. Also interesting was his handyman skills. He'd brought a few electronic tools but no mechanical ones. Sam was smirking to herself as she watched him get to the metal frame base, where he needed to screw the nuts to the bolts. But instead of having to hunt around for a wrench, Sam watched him create one made of light.

At noon, Tyler stopped. "Man, I'm starving," he complained. "Want to grab something to eat?"

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"You mean, like...at a restaurant?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"They do have food there, yes, so that is definitely an option." Tyler smirked.

"Yeah, I don't do public for obvious reasons. I dunno what it's like for you over in India, but mutants don't have the best public image over here."

"Well, then, something else. I just need to eat."

"Lots of places will deliver, the cafe is closed though, but I can get us into one of the offices here to eat."

"Sounds good to me."

"So what do you want? Just about anywhere will deliver to campus."

"Doesn't matter to me, you're the local. You know what to avoid better than me."

"Alright, Chinese then. I know Dr. Delgado has a stack of menus in his desk...we can eat there too, he has no classes this semester."

"Lead on."

They exited the lab after getting out of the suits and headed to the second floor of the building where most of the offices were located. Sam let herself into the Doctor's office with a caress of the badge reader, a flash of green reflecting off the glass of the door. A quick search through drawers of a retro metal desk gave them multiple copies of various local restaurants' available food. Sam quickly found the one she was looking for and replaced the rest.

"They got meal deals for two people and they let you order online. You allergic to anything?" Sam asked, glancing over the paper menu.

"Nope." Tyler smiled.

"Kay." Her skin didn't flash this time, but stayed lit for close to 15 seconds as she read the menu over. "Food's ordered, be here in 10-15."

"How much do I owe ya?" Tyler asked.

"Nadda, don't worry about it."

The minutes passed with awkward silence as Sam waited for the phone call that would tell her they were there and she preoccupied herself with checking her email and composing replies.

... when you grow up...Would you be the savior of the broken...The beaten and the damned??...

Sam's ringtone startled her from the middle of what she was doing, but she quickly recovered and answered it, "Yup, Bee-Arr-Tee." She headed for the door before glancing back, "Be right back."

Good to her word, she was, carrying a large brown paper sack. Food was divided and chosen and before long, they were both eating heartily. Sam's appetite always out-did her stomach's capacity and long before Tyler was done, Sam was picking and toying with a container of chow mein.

"This has been driving me crazy...aside from the obvious character flaws..." Sam smiled, "You seem to be a nice guy...so why are you working for those dumbasses making a weapon?"

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Her question surprised Tyler and his chopsticks paused as he looked at her. He started to just tell her, then wondered if she was going to get mad at him for sharing personal information again. She asked for it... “Well,” he said after a moment of contemplation, “first, you don’t know what dumbasses I’m working for. Though,” he added after another moment of contemplation, “given your skills, maybe you do know.

“Honestly, I don’t see them as dumb, maybe more desperate,” he continued, pausing only to take another bite of his food. “You said you didn’t know what it’s like for a mutant in India. Well, it’s nice. Most people in India treat mutants better than humans. The people recognize their value. I’m pretty sure my mad mutant skills with light is what got me my job. In the rural areas, like where my assistant Eila grew up, you can find places where mutants are treated like daevas – revered as little gods.

“But Pakistan, Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, places like that, it’s completely different. Mutants are hunted. I’ve heard of children – boys and girls – being stoned to death when they start to show their powers. Mutants killed by their neighbors, all approved by the government.” Tyler looked angry and disgusted, pushing his food away from him. “These people are desperate, fighting for their lives. My deal is that they’ll use the laser in self-defense in a certain area, around their hideout. That’s why I want the hard-kill switch, just in case they get any bright ideas about taking it on the offensive. I don’t want to support baby-murdering terrorists, but I have it good. I feel bad about that sometimes, that just because my parents could afford a good education, I get to live in a safe place while other people like me suffer.” He swallowed, thinking that if his parents had lived in Mumbai, they’d be alive today. And he’d be someone else’s fake son.

Tyler looked at Margie and added, “This is probably the worst idea I’ve ever had in my life, but it makes me feel better. Giving back or something.” Reaching over, he tore open a fortune cookie and opened it, reading, You will be a boon to a friend soon. “That’s a good sign,” he said, trying to lighten his mood as he tossed the slip of paper onto the table.

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"Well, you just told me that you don't really work for the company most would think, so you could extrapolate a bit on that...but why not help mutants here? You obviously aren't Middle Eastern, why not help the home crew? Who cares if they turn that desert into a glass bowl? There are plenty of resistance groups here in the U.S. that could use your talents. The goat herders should be the last of your worries." Sam said, her voice raising and blood pressure rising, "You give this for defense, I guarantee that within a year it's being used on the wrong side for even worse things. I applaud your effort to make a difference, but trust me, this won't do what you want."

Sam looked back down at her chow mein and stabbed it with her chopsticks a few times.

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“I do work for MumTek,” Tyler said, choosing his words carefully despite the rising desire to say the perfect thing to shut her up. “They pay the bills, it’s a sweet gig. I do my job and then on the side, I have time to do what I want.

“As for helping people here, first, I live in India. It’s at least a grand to fly here,” Tyler continued. “It’s too far to jump without risking making myself sicker than a dog. But all that aside, it took me a year to get your contact, and you’re just a computer tech gu-url. Look at me.” He spread his arms. “Do I look like the kind of guy who knows where to find the pro-mutant parties? I look like the kind of guy who knows where to find the nearest kegger.”

He dropped his arms, looking annoyed. “So yeah, I’ve worked with the mutant goatherders because they’re the ones that I’ve found to work with. I can hop over the border, do two or three hours of work and skip back in time to get a few hours of sleep and be a model employee for MumTek.” He felt silent, meeting her brilliant green eyes, wondering if she really liked fighting with everyone this much or just him.

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Originally Posted By: Tyler Morgan
“I do work for MumTek,”


Bullshit.

Originally Posted By: Tyler Morgan
Tyler said, choosing his words carefully despite the rising desire to say the perfect thing to shut her up. “They pay the bills, it’s a sweet gig. I do my job and then on the side, I have time to do what I want.


Exploit women.

Originally Posted By: Tyler Morgan
“As for helping people here, first, I live in India. It’s at least a grand to fly here,” Tyler continued. “It’s too far to jump without risking making myself sicker than a dog. But all that aside, it took me a year to get your contact, and you’re just a computer tech gu-url. Look at me.” He spread his arms.


Move here.

Originally Posted By: Tyler Morgan
“Do I look like the kind of guy who knows where to find the pro-mutant parties? I look like the kind of guy who knows where to find the nearest kegger.”


Finally! Something true!

Originally Posted By: Tyler Morgan
He dropped his arms, looking annoyed. “So yeah, I’ve worked with the mutant goatherders because they’re the ones that I’ve found to work with. I can hop over the border, do two or three hours of work and skip back in time to get a few hours of sleep and be a model employee for MumTek.” He felt silent, meeting her brilliant green eyes, wondering if she really liked fighting with everyone this much or just him.


Stupid idiot. Playboy with a guilty conscience, oh poor baby. Whatever lets you sleep on your twelve hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets I guess.

Sam's face turned into a sneer and she shook her head. With a disgusted snort she tossed the container of chow mein back into the paper sack and left the office. As the door shut, he could just hear her mumble, "Jackass."

She walked quickly down the hall, wanting to be out of sight if he looked out after her. But at the same time, she wanted to be chased down. As infuriating and misguided as he was, his intentions were noble, at least on the surface. A surface that was very, very nice to look at.

Sighing in frustration, partly in anger and partly because Tyler didn't run after and sweep her into his arms, she swiped her way into the lab and set a waste bin to keep the door from shutting all the way so he could get back in, whenever that was.

She pulled the static suit halfway on while she booted the laptop that would become the targeting system and began to review code.
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Tyler sat very, very still for a moment, the muscles in his jaw tight enough to make them rise under his skin. He rose and cleared the remaining food, throwing it in the trash can. He stalked back toward the lab, only to pause at the hallway leading out. He could go get a cab, go to the strip, gamble a little and find some companionship for the night – or the week. The idea of leaving her all alone in the lab until she figured out he wasn’t coming back held a very strong childish appeal.

With a scowl, he passed by the exit and continued to the clean room. The trash can blocking the door was shoved into the room hard enough to bounce it off the side wall, echoed by the door closing with a sharp snap. Tyler grabbed his suit and pulled it on with practiced movements, ignoring the woman bent over her computer. His bad mood was strong enough that the light in the room began to brighten a little before turning red, washing the room in an eerie light.

That caught Tyler off-guard. It’d been a while since he’d been so mad that he’d let it slip over into his powers. It also made him angrier, which didn’t help. He took three deep breaths and forced the lights back to normal. “From now on,” he said, his voice sharp, “let’s keep it business.” He pulled the hood up around his head and said, “Can the personal inquiries.”

Two steps put him at the door to the lab and he almost left it at that, but personal vindictiveness caused him to stop long enough to add, “If the sexual tension is that bad, you really don’t have to call me names to get my attention. I’d throw you a fuck.”

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Sam glanced up at the lighting, then at Tyler as he lost control.

Typical

Originally Posted By: Smartass
“If the sexual tension is that bad, you really don’t have to call me names to get my attention. I’d throw you a fuck.”

Sam's eyes widened and it was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping in disbelief.

What...did he just say?!

So much she couldn't believe it in fact, that she recalled the moment in her head like an instant replay, watching his lip movements as they slowly mouthed out, '...thrrrooow...yooouu...aaa...fuuuckkk.' Rage boiled inside her like an ignored tea kettle, but she didn't want to dare give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words had done their job and decided instead to turn the tables back on him once more. She would no doubt destroy something later, but now, it was far more important to make his brain regret ever developing the ability to process speech.

Sam slowly stood up, keeping her eyes down as she closed the laptop and unhinged her jaw from its tightly clenched position. The suit slowly started to work its way down Sam's legs as she took small steps towards Tyler, glancing up coyly as she advanced. Not knowing what exactly she was up to, Tyler found himself nervously inching back until he was against wedged in the corner of the side of the locker bank and the wall of the lab. Sam reached out a hand to his chest as she tiptoed forward, stepping out of her static suit, "You're right...I didn't know how...hard it would be to admit it...but you're right. I want you so bad."

She moved in closer, her breathing quickening, letting her hands slowly run down his chest as she stepped in, but before they could go south of the border, he grabbed her arms and she pressed herself against him as she stared into his eyes, "Ever since I saw you at the airport, it's been all I could do to keep myself from you."

She craned her neck, moving her mouth closer, "But I think...we could...make...this..." she stopped, just shy of her lips meeting his. She let the hot breath of her words slowly caress his neck, "...more pleasure...and less...business."

As the last hiss came off her tongue, a jolt of electricity ran through Tyler, sending him to the floor in convulsions as his grip reflexively let go of Sam, his brain subconsciously wanting away from the source. Sam's eyebrows raised in a facial shrug of surprise as her hands went to her hips, "I guess there is a spark between us. Pity your junk's not working." she said, her tone returning to something stonier.

She grabbed the laptop and her bags before wrenching the exit door open, letting her rage erupt as it slammed into the lockers and bounced back behind her.

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Tyler's own anger flared hot and sudden. He'd said something shitty; she had attacked him. Reflexively, he reached into his hollow of light and reached out. He didn't want to hurt her, not really. So it wasn't his 'One Man Rave' power but a simple creation.

It was just a wall, blocking the door. It was simple; a partition of golden light, forming in an attempt to stop her forward progress. He placed it properly, but she was quick enough to get around it. Grimacing, he let it drop and sank to the floor, sighing.

"Well," he muttered, "that went better in my head." A second later he rolled his feet. He'd never gotten anywhere in life by sitting on his ass and feeling sorry for himself. Pissed as all hell, he snatched open the door, expecting to see her pert ass rounding the corner. Instead she was waiting, staring warily at the door. "Oh, you're still here."

Brilliant, Tyler.

"Look, we're here to do a job, not take potshots or attack each other. Come back inside, let's try this again," he said, holding the door for her.

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What did he just try to do to me? If he can make tools, he very well could do worse.

"Third time's a charm." Sam mumbled, giving him a mocking smile before staring him down as she walked past. "Finish putting your Legos together so I can do some real work."

Not waiting, she yanked on the static suit and went into the lab, pulling the laptop along with her. She'd drained it to zap Tyler, but the need to charge it would keep her on the opposite side of the lab from Tyler which suited her just fine.

She glanced up at him over the screen of the computer as he reentered the lab and took up the work where he had left off.

I really need a better screening process. Are you a douche? Yes --- No Please circle one. Does your self-centered ego create a hostile work environment? Does your ass look remarkably well in nerdy lab gear?...Do women wish you were mute?...Do the hundreds of women you've slept with want to gouge out your eyes with chopsticks?

Sam pounded the Backspace key a multiple times as she vented, waiting for it to boot up the Linux platform. Soon, though, she was absorbed in code, at times, not hardly even aware of the lab. She sent herself to the MU and conducted an impromptu meeting with the Council after receiving an email about the possibility of someone defecting. It was something that had happened before, but evidence was sketchy and inconsistent so it was agreed that one of the Parade would be assigned to the suspect to monitor their activity for the next week and they would meet again to make the final decision.

After the business was done, she pulled back to the lab and glanced at the clock.

Holy crap! 5:30!

She glanced over the screen at Tyler, but he seemed as absorbed as she was, though bottles of water had appeared on a table at some point in the afternoon.

"Hey. How about we call it a day." Sam said, standing up and stretching out tight muscles and rubbing her sore butt.

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Tyler had lost himself in his work. It was uncomplicated; devoid of pissy, bitch women with electric tongues. This is what he loved, more even than loving the ladies: working with the lasers. It was a matter of pride to put it together, to take the random components and create something that lasted. He’d stopped only when his body let him know that it needed agua, stat. Though not really ready to make peace with his tech help, he still brought some water for her, too. She ignored it, remained buried in her computer.

Her voice roused him out of his fugue. He was on his back, a glowed backboard wedged between the struts of the machine for him to sprawl across. The handsome man looked more than a little silly as he twisted to stare at her upside down, his static suit adding to the image. “Oh, so it is,” he murmured after a glance at the clock. “Hmm, I think I might stay and put in a bit more work…”

“I have to be here with you-”

“And you have better places to be. Sure thing,” Tyler said quickly, curling up his legs and swinging them to the side so that he could kneel under the body of the laser. He crawled out from underneath the machine and straightened, wincing at the stiffness in his back. In silence, they entered the changing room and stripped off the suits. Tyler gathered up his laptop bag as Margie finished packing her gear; the silence remained as they exited the building.

At the door, Tyler pulled out his sunglasses and put them on after a brief glance at the sun. Staring at the sun without fear had been the first sign to his parents that he was a mutant; he couldn’t see it without thinking about that. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Margie said, starting to turn.

“Want me to walk you to your truck?” Tyler asked. It was only 5:30 p.m., but the campus was deserted, the kind of empty you only saw in the height of summer. “I don’t do public” didn’t make him feel comfortable leaving her to walk alone across God-only-knew how much campus.

She paused and those green eyes stared at him, unfathomable. He was suddenly glad of the shades; as always, those brilliant eyes bypassed all his anger at her and tickled his libido. “Sure,” she said suddenly and Tyler gestured for her to lead the way. Of course, she went in the opposite direction of his hotel, but he wasn’t going to get pissy about a bit of an extra walk. Besides, he had all evening to find a distraction tonight.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too far; the same lack of people that had made him nervous about leaving her alone had left plenty of parking. At the truck, Tyler stopped and said, “See ya tomorrow, Margie. You have my contact information if you need me before then.”

Oh Jesus! Tyler resisted the urge to slap his forehead. That had just popped out of his mouth. She was going to think that was a come-on, whereas after today, he’d rather her do a go-on. “You know… if you can’t make it in the morning.” Yeah, smooth recovery, retard-o. Real Don Suave there.

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"Yeah..sure...whatever." Sam rolled her eyes as she ducked into her truck. She couldn't help but shake her head as she drove away, hoping this job would end soon so she could forget about it.

Her evening proved to be pleasantly uneventful, as did her morning. Something she could only pray her day could mimic.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With a large sigh and her hair still damp, she hopped out of her truck, grabbing her bags and coffee.

Maybe he got hit by a car last night. More likely he was out whoring and drinking on the strip. Fuckin' playboys.

She walked up the building, but he wasn't there yet, so she sat down on the steps and waited. According to the clocks on various walls inside, as well as 2 students' phones walking by, she was a bit early. It was promising to be a hot day, and her hair was already nearly dry. Luckily today she hadn't worn sweats and had actually put on a polo and jeans. They were some of her closer fitting, tighter clothing, so as to not interfere with the lab gear, as she was likely to actually get to touch the laser today.

It didn't hurt that she felt like the outfit showed off her body. Anything that would shove a sliver, nail or railroad spike into that ego would make her day.

She took a sip of her coffee to hide the flash across her face as much as she could as she sent off a text to Tyler.

Originally Posted By: Textmania!
Tick tock

Give him ten, then I leave.

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The reply was rapid.

Quote:
Keep your panties on. Almost there.

Tyler came around the corner five minutes later. There wasn't anything obviously wrong with him, but she could tell he wasn't in a great mood. And Tyler wasn't. Last night hadn't been anything fun, or at least the non-fun had definitely outweighed the fun. He still managed to smile politely and say, "Good morning."

It was a good morning when a hot lady was waiting for him. Too bad she wasn't willing to be receptive to more than looking hot.

"Morning," Margie said, glancing at the bag in his hand. He also had two coffees again.

"Yeah, I brought enough for both of us," Tyler said. Margie nodded noncommittally as she opened the door. They were silent as they trudged back to the lab and suited up.

"So we'll be working on the laser today?" Margie asked as they entered the clean room.

"Uh, yes," he replied, eying his work and getting himself back into the right frame of mind. Tyler cracked his neck and felt himself start to relax a little. "In fact, I can start giving you a crash course in laser-building."

"Sounds good," Margie said tersely, her subtext saying Anything to get something good out of this waste of time.

Tyler unclenched his jaw, told himself to stop projecting and nodded. "Let's go then."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

They worked through lunch, pausing only to grab snacks from the vending machine. There was no question that both were focused on getting through it and getting done.

But Tyler was a little distracted. There was a thought worming into his head and he debated even broaching the subject. It bothered him all through the day, even as he kept up his instruction, showing Margie how to assemble the laser and how it worked. But in the end, he kept his mouth shut. "Alright," he said, glancing at the clock to see it read four-forty-five. "I think that's a day. We'll do calibration tests tomorrow."

Margie grunted in agreement; the two left much the way that they had arrived: in cold silence. Tyler again offered to walk her to her truck, which she accepted. Neither one said anything on the walk, and Tyler managed to only say “Have a good evening” to her in parting.

The real fun began the next morning. Tyler had spent the night in his room, watching TV and practicing his fine control over light. This was done with a little LED toy he’d bought in the gas station. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure it was a good one. By the time he drifted off to sleep, he was reasonably sure he could do, though not without some effort. And effort meant risking the Virus. It seemed pretty extreme, but Tyler couldn’t shake the look on her face when she talked about not doing public stuff.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The next morning was a repeat of the other two, though Tyler made sure he was on time this morning. The coffee, the surly silence, the suits – all of it was the same as before, making him wonder if his idea should even be mentioned. She’d probably just find a reason to hate him for making it. It was briefly amusing to try to guess her possible reasons for twisting the offer against him but it also was disheartening.

“Alright,” he said once they were in the room together. “Let’s do this.” He was trying to sound chipper, despite being locked in a room with a woman who despised him. Trapped with a cute woman who doesn’t want to jump me… so depressing.

“Sure.” Her reply made him want to put his fist through the wall in frustration, but he stifled the impulse and merely began to show her how to calibrate the laser. While he kept his mind on the task, part of his attention was taken up by his continuing quandary. His brain finally pointed out the obvious: he had nothing to lose in the offer. And it was coming up on lunch.

Margie had stepped away to take another look at the changes he’d made based on the last test. She was out of shocking range; now was as good a time as any. Casually, Tyler started another calibration cycle. “So I was thinking that you might want to get lunch out?” he asked, watching the computer. “I know you don’t do public, but I think I can suppress your marks. They are light and I can manipulate that, if you were interested in trying.”

Still trying for casual, he peered over his shoulder to see her reaction. Margie was staring at him, her mouth opening and she didn’t look pleased. He wasn’t sure what her expression was, because he noticed where she was standing. “Not there!” he barked and mashed the ESC button. It was too late; the system was well into the cycle. Turning, he threw himself at her, trying to get between her and the laser.

The ‘Man of Light’ was seconds too slow. Margie had taken his warning to heart and was in motion too but he saw the beam lance out. The scent of burning clothing and skin filled the air as he slammed into her. The laser burned its way across him as he pulled her under the beam, but light didn’t hurt him. He felt the suit and his shirt split across its path, but the laser itself was mere warmth.

They landed side by side on the floor. “Shit!” Tyler barked as he scrambled to his knees, trying to keep from touching her; he didn’t want to hurt her anymore and she was already making some terrible noises. Fearing the worst, he peered at her back, where she’d been struck and saw a black, burned hole. He couldn’t see the extent of the damage, but he could tell it wasn’t superficial. Scrambling to his phone, he snatched it up and started to dial. “Lie still, Margie,” he ordered, kneeling behind her again and putting a hand on her shoulder in case she decided to get up. “I’m calling 9-1-1 right now. Just… relax. You’ll be fine! Just... fine.” He hoped he wasn’t lying.

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  • 2 weeks later...

"NO!" Sam yelled, reaching back and grabbing a fistful of suit on his chest between moaned screams. Shock had taken what she knew had to be most of the pain away, but she knew this was bad..real bad.

She focused up at him, lifting her head and blinking away tears as she tried to make eye contact, "Please don't." she sobbed.

"Then what?!" Tyler responded, glancing down her body, "You need help."

Sam's mind raced, trying to think of anyway around it, but her mind was clouding over and she knew she was going to pass out soon. Her options were narrowing much like her vision.

"Home...take me...home...please. Help...there...basement." Sam said between gasps of ragged breath and sobs of pain.

"You're delirious--"

"Fuckin' shit dammit!" Sam yelled, grabbing his suit with both hands as she rolled over and yanked herself up face to face with the man of light. "Stop fucking arguing with me! I don't wanna die because some playboy..."

Her eyes rolled back into her head and she went limp as she lost consciousness. The sudden jerky movements of Sam had broke the laser-cauterization of the wound and blood was starting to pool on the lab floor.

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“Oh, shitohshitohshit.” That seemed to say it all to Tyler. But it wasn’t helping him make a decision. A woman’s life depended on what he did: the sensible thing or what she wanted him to do. “So unfair!” he whined as he knelt next to her. If she died, he’d feel terrible. If she lived, she’d hate him. She certainly seemed to think that the hospital would kill her.

Tyler’s eyes widened as his brain finally figured out what she meant. She knew she was badly hurt; she knew she’d die without medical attention. The only reason for her to assume that going to the hospital would kill her rather than the opposite was the belief that she’d be captured for something and locked away.

She was a terrorist.

“Crazy,” he muttered but there was no doubt that she didn’t want to be in the hands of the authority. Scowling, he made his decision and stood, dashing to her bag. He scattered the contents around a bit as he pawed through it, but found what he needed. Her driver’s license had her home address. That was what he needed, at least for now. Swallowing, he knelt next to her and put his hand on her shoulder again. Closing his eyes, he focused his powers. The shift in the room came much more slowly this time; the sensation of being one with the light come much more slowly because he was pulling her along with him.

When he opened his eyes, he muttered, “And now for the suck.” The light grew to fill his awareness until he was one with it – one with Margie, too. That was confusing; he’d never done this with a person before. Things yes, but people no. It was strange to share this with someone living, who had a will to herself. Even unconscious, she was there with him in a way that nothing inanimate had been before. Shaking off the feeling, he reached beyond himself and sought the vague location in his head. He’d done this before, and it always took monumental effort. He sought the light at that place-

Then he was kneeling next to her in an entryway, the overhead light giving him access. Nervously, he looked around – was this her house? He wasn’t sure but he wasn’t in the basement either. He waited for the nausea to pass, holding his head for the minute or so it took to clear. It was necessary, but he was aware that each moment was crucial for her survival. The moment he felt ready, he picked her up under her legs and shoulders, grunting as he took her weight. Time to hit the gym more, he thought as he settled his weight against him.

He found the stairs down and tried to take them carefully, but she came awake with a groan halfway down. “Sorry,” he muttered as he stepped off the stairs and saw… a normal basement. “What the fuck! You said you had he-”

“There,” she said weakly, cutting off his rant. She was pointing to a light switch. Rolling his eyes, Tyler walked her over and let her click it up. His sarcastic statement died in his throat as a panel opened. Without being told, he moved her close enough so that her trembling fingers could enter the code. Then a freakin’ retinal scanner activated and Margie made him lift her high enough for it to scan her eyeball. A door opened revealing a moving floor and long hallway.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, looking down at Margie. But she had passed out again, and the clammy feel of her blood soaking through his static suit and his shirt were reminders that he didn’t have time to gawk. Tyler took off at a quick walk, wondering where this rabbit hole would take him—

And if Margie was going to declare “Off with his head!” when it was all said and done.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The accelerated walkway came to an end at another doorway similar to the one that they had just come through, though here there was only a small touch screen to the side of the door. A lit up stylized thumbprint on the screen was enough for Tyler to deduce what was required.

As gently as he could, he shuffled Sam and used the wall to brace himself and pulled Sam's arm up and pressed her thumb to the scanner. A moment later an aperture opened to what he now recognized as a retinal scanner.

"You've gotta be kidding."

Turning around so his back was against the wall, he pulled Sam's weight back onto his hips and got her face situated in front of the scanner. Tyler was trying to figure out how he was going to pry open her eye and not drop her when the opening closed and the touch pad turned red.

"That can't be good."

The door opened a couple seconds later revealing a small and unassuming man with a carton of ice cream in his hand. There was a momentary pause as they both looked at each other and the man looked at Sam in his arms. "Who the fuck are you?

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