IF anyone had been watching, which thankfully they weren't they would have seen the Iron Man suit fly through one of the giant TVs that had been set up to let anyone not at the main stage to still view it from afar. Rather expensive, and now rather broken. "God damnit." He hit the ground hard and inhaled as the shock shook his body. This guy, was a complete and utter asshole. Like, the pinnacle of assholes. Bad enough that he had someone gained access to his tech let alone the fact that he was now beating the crap out of him with it. It just wasn't cool, or radical in any way at all. In fact it was aggravating. He pushed himself off the ground and raised himself back outside the main stage, looking down on his assailant who was still attached to the reactor. The theory was right now that he was charging himself off the Arc Reactor and the one in the exoskeleton wasn't an actual reactor and more a fancy battery.

"JARVIS""Sir?""Dim the lights in here, prepare flares and one HE small arms missile." The lights in the room went off, the only four sources of light the two chest pieces, the Arc Reactor and the eye slots of the Iron Man suit. "Fire Flares, fire missile at the cable." The sudden brightness blinded the man, who began flailing obviously expecting an incoming attack as the missile instead blew up breaking the cable between the man and the Reactor. Then the moment the whips began to flicker and weaken he pushed himself forward, then lifting his knee up at the last moment he hit the man in the chest breaking the fancy battery and sending him flying backwards. No doubt breaking several ribs.

He landed himself and began walking towards the man to find out who he was and more importantly what was going on when a pulse was emitted from the reactor, he was sent flying backwards and everything went dark.

---

He woke up with proximity alerts. Rolling over he faced police and security officers. He weekly waved his hand at them as he stood up. "Evening.""Sir?""What?""It's nothing, it's just it is... it's morning sir." Tony looked around and it was actually, the system clock was on the fritz but there was also the fact that he had been knocked out for a fair amount of time. He shook his head, ensuring that his mic was off "JARVIS, you there?""Yes sir.""Flight path to the Stark Tower. When we're there full diagnostic and analysis on everything that just happened.""Yes sir."

He clicked his mic back on as he turned to everyone else. "Sorry, I have to go. Important things to do, bad guys to chase."""But we have to.,.." The rest of the mans sentence was droned out as he took off heading back to Stark Tower. He had guessed right earlier, it was going to be an interesting day. Even more interesting than th efact that when he had woken up his adversary had been gone. This obviously ran deeper than he thought.

South Bronx, New York
September 7th, 2013
11:23 AM

Remy laid half nude atop the motel bed, his white boxers caught the sunlight like a crystal, refracting and reflecting. He snored loudly for a moment, which turned into a steady moan. He fumbled with the pillow as if it were uncomfortable and turned into a fetal position. A small discolored circle on Remy’s waist was all that was left of his physical wounds from the fateful day when he lost his family; the mental wounds would always be there, like a ghost, they would appear and chill him to the bones.

A quiet noise breached the humid summer silence. A humming signaled the presence of a drone, it’s shadow was cast into the motel room from the window. The little white floating robot was no larger than a microwave, no smaller than a toaster. It was a disk with an armored shell. A small prong extended from its centrifugal form and tapped the window, it shattered. Remy awoke violently from his sleep, in a moment he was stood atop the bed. The little drone expertly floated into room and landed on the floor, a hologram appeared above it, Fence’s face.

“Glad to see you’re up.” Fence was sitting in a train headed down the eastern seaboard, he’d catch a biplane in Florida. Fence was rather picky about how he traveled, never in a way where he was completely trapped in, what he considered, a death trap. He’d fly the biplane, he could leave the train at any of the many stops. He was sitting in a private booth by himself, speaking into his newly fixed HUD.

“I wasn’t till yo’ damn drone came through the window!” Remy sat at the edge of the bed, lazily stared at the virtual representation of Fence. “What dis doing here anyway?”

“I’m on my way down to Florida, I won’t be able to meet you. But, HARDy here has some equipment and documents for you. I found a place for you to stay, a friendly place. Make sure you read everything I sent you before you head out…”

“HARDy?”

“Oh, yeah, I built him last night, while you were out. Cool hu? HARDy stands for Helpful Assistance and Recon Drone.”

“Well, dat’s just adorable. When will you be back?”

“I’d like to be back by Monday, we should be able to hit the target a few days after that.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t say too much over dese channels.” Remy felt a little vulnerable in this motel. He knew the espionage game, he knew the different ways in which people could gather information. Remy was pretty sure no one had followed him to the motel, so physical surveillance was very unlikely. And, of course, Remy trusted Fence’s encryption methods. But if there is one thing the Cajun learned during his escapades with espionage types, it was that you could never be too careful, or too paranoid.

“I got you. See ya!” Fence replied, smiling. He was proud of Remy, they were going into the breach, two adventurers out on a limb. Remy was always prepared, always thinking; Fence couldn’t think of a better partner.

The hologram disappeared and the drone lifted off of the ground, that’s when Remy noticed he wasn’t being controlled, HARDy was intelligent. He hovered right over the bed, the cameras twirled from the plastic band running along it’s center, positioning itself perfectly over the pillow. A PDA fell from a compartment at the bottom of the drone’s body, a GPS came out behind it, and then a paintball case filled with the prototype metal balls.

The twitching feet came back into Remy’s mind, his throat ripped to pieces by metal bits and his face burned to a crisp. Seeing the metal orbs again made him feel a twinge of regret, they were killing machines, especially when combined with Remy’s deadly powers. Cards were far less deadly. Sure, there would be scratches, at the worst someone would die days later from impact shock, but nothing so brutal.

“Hey, can I speak to Fence again, HARDy?”

HARDy bobbed a little in the air, hovered over to the ground and sat again. Fence came up as a hologram moments later.

“Fence.”

“Yes, Remy.” Fence seemed a little annoyed. The fact was that a very beautiful woman had slipped into his booth, she was a bit of a technophile, it seemed. There was a blossoming of those. Fence had just promised to order a bottle of chardenea.

“I don’t know if I want to use these pellets.”

“Why?”

“I killed an agent last night…”

“What?!? Where?”

“In my apartment, it was terrible. There was shrapnel, Fence.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. The one’s I just sent have a special mist instead, don’t take any electronics into it and keep your eyes closed if it explodes next to you.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not lethal, just very annoying. Is that all?”
Remy thought for a moment if there was anything else, shook his head. “No, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, HARDy will patch us through once you get to your new home.” And with a click the hologram was gone. HARDy zipped up and out of the room as Remy slid into his body suit.

59th St Subway station, New York
3:30 PM

The A train started up and then chugged out of the station, almost everyone made their way to the stairs. Remy, wrapped in his overcoat, slid into the shadows of the subway tunnel and began running down the darkened highway. A puddle of muck splashed under his feet as he detoured into a small hallway which ended in a manhole. Remy dropped down in and plunged even further into the muck. Remy ended up at a delta of sewage-ways, he stood on a platform on the side, looking down the red-lit corridor. Remy carried a duffle bag over his shoulder, he turned to his right and began walking. It was easy to ignore the smell, Remy had surprisingly been in worse. Remy smiled when he saw the green light which signaled the location of his safe zone. A vault door, outfitted with a security panel shone in the verdant light. Remy plugged the numbers he’d been given into the keypad, a fingerprint scanner revealed itself directly below the keypad. Remy removed his glove, unlocked the door, and stepped in. It was a moderate space. Nearest the door was a small cot with a dresser at its feet. Opposite the cot was a couch and desk. Set up on a concrete dais was a kitchen area, a bathroom was hidden to the side behind an opened iron-bar gate.

Remy placed his bag down and sat on the cot, the vault door closed automatically behind him. “I can get used to this place,” Remy commented as he fell to the pillow, he’d need some rest before a heist he had planned for later that night.

IC:Wolverine

The Blackbird landed comfortably under the X-Mansion, and Logan quickly powered the jet down. He unstrapped himself from the pilot's chair and left the plane with Storm. At the bottom of the ramp waiting for them was Charles, "I take it you were successful?"

"In a sense," Stom sighed. "We have a name, and no guarantee he's the man we're looking for."

"Graydon Creed," Logan growled. "The only name MacTaggert could come up with. He's also more or less untouchable, so the next step is going to be a tricky one."

"He's the head of the Friends of Humanity," Xavier stroked his chin. "Tricky indeed."

"We miss anything around here?" Logan asked, clearly seeking whether Charles had managed to located any of the Brotherhood members.

The professor shook his head, "Nothing to write home about. Creed seems to be our only option. But as you mentioned, getting close to him will present a significant hurdle to jump."

"Not if we had someone who could read his mind," Storm interjected. Logan and her had conferred during the flight home about how they'd get information from Creed. "All we'd need to do is get in the same room."

"I'm much to visible," Xavier shook his head. "We'd never get within the same city."

"We weren't thinkin ah you," Logan mumbled, ready for the backlash. Charles and Wolverine had been at odds over Jean since Scott defected to the Brotherhood. Her powers had always been extremely unpredictable, and though she had kept them under control for years, Xavier was afraid the shock and devestation from the loss would send her out of control. Logan had more faith in the girl than that. He had more or less raised her, and he knew she could take care of herself. Besides, she'd never know unless she got back out in the field.

"You're sure?" was Xavier's response. He sounded nervous and weery, but receptive. He knew something needed to be done, and if this was it, so be it.

"I always am, Chuck."

"Then get her ready. Storm and I will figure out our next move."

Harkins watched the small red blip on the monitor with a casual ease that belied his intense interest in the image and its sole occupant.

"Magnify."

The image zoomed in on the red blip, and faint red lines became visible, crisscrossing the various shades of blue that composed the rest of the image. Those must be hot water pipes.

"Is this the only angle we have?"

"Yes sir. Anything else and the brick in the walls obscures the thermal scopes. Top down is the best I can do."

He supposed he shouldn't be disappointed. They wouldn't have been able to find her at all, even with the satellite tracking, if they hadn't known where she was going in the first place. As it was, it was still difficult to make out the shape of a girl huddled on the floor with her knees pulled up and pressed against her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them to create a comforting, yet completely incorrect, illusion of safety. He would have to disabuse her of that illusion as soon as possible. They'd been too soft on her thus far, not realizing that she really could take every bit of the punishment that the Wolverine himself could withstand. Possibly even more. Logan had been the first stage, the prototype product. With X-23 they'd been able to start fresh, avoid the mistakes they made with her predecessor. She was already beating his scores in the in-house training scenarios, though her real world test scores had yet to catch up. That was to be expected, really. She'd only been given one mission thus far, and they'd made the mistake of sending her in without any blood on her hands. That was not a mistake he intended to duplicate. Reaching down to the console in front of himself, he depressed the intercom button and spoke.

"Send the NYPD that anonymous tip. I want to see how she handles an ambush. Make sure they know she is armed and dangerous."

Whoever was on the other line spoke their assent and the comm went dead. Harkins turned back to the monitor to watch his new drama unfold, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in thought. He half wished her implant was still functional so he could tell her that the no-kill order had been rescinded. Oh well. He'd just have to push her into it. No more of this accidental deaths business. He wanted a clean kill.

"Let's see if we can get her to open up a bit."

---

She'd been sitting in the safe house for hours, waiting for them to send someone after her. It had been empty when she arrived, and for a moment she'd feared that it too had been compromised. She only realized that wasn't the case because of the smell. No human had been in here in months, possibly years. The food in the kitchen was all canned with an expiration date fifteen years from now, and it quickly became apparent that this was one of the low-upkeep facilities they kept around the country, not one of the active locations. The only reason someone would come here was if they had no other place to go, and that was her right now.

The ice-cold air bit at her exposed skin as she sat in the all but abandoned safe house, but she ignored the frigid temperatures and focused on what her senses could tell her of the outside. She could still just barely hear the sounds of traffic several floors below, though the spaces between the passing of each car had become longer and longer as the hours dragged on. If she had to guess, which she didn't, it had to be nearly four o'clock in the morning by now. The sun would be coming up in a few hours. Maybe that would make it warmer in here.

Her thoughts were pulled back to the sounds of outside as her ears picked up the telltale rumble of powerful engines. Lots of powerful engines. At least half a dozen, if not more. There was also the sound of weapons being loaded and rounds being chambered, then heavy footsteps on the stairs below. The lack of decent insulation in the building had one perk, at least.

Why were they coming in armed though? They had to know she wouldn't hurt them, not if they'd been sent from the facility. Unless... Her implant had been damaged somehow in the fall, so maybe it wasn't working on their end either. If they didn't know what her status was, it was possible they would feel the need to come in with backup. Or it wasn't Facility operatives at all. It was just as likely that they were aligned with whoever those fake cops on the roof were. She'd already surmised that her extraction plan could have been compromised, so why not the safe house?

But who would even know about the safe house to compromise it? Only someone from the inside would have access to that information. She had to make it back and warn Harkins. There was someone inside the facility leaking information to outside entities. She stood from her huddled position as the sound of boots reached the floor below, and ducked into the kitchen as they began the ascent to her floor. She didn't have much time to prepare, but the lack of windows in the safe house meant there was only one way out. It occurred to her then that this was a very poorly designed safe house, though she was unable to dwell on the thought as they knocked twice, calling out for someone to open up each time, then smashed the door in when no one answered.

She was standing in the kitchen, arms folded across her chest to hold her coat shut, head down so her hair fell around her face, and knees pulled together so she looked less threatening. She even managed a tear and a half-choked sob as the first officer rounded into the kitchen. He was dressed in a high-end SWAT officer's uniform, complete with top of the line body armor and a helmet with a face plate. That would make incapacitation difficult. He stopped when he saw her, but didn't lower his gun.

"Miss, I need you to get on the ground and lace your fingers together behind your head. We have to take you in for questioni... Holy shit!" It was when he saw the blood that stained her coat and face and legs that the situation took a turn for the worse, and he instantly backed up to gain distance before yelling at her to get the fuck on the ground. She wished he hadn't done that. Wished the order to avoid casualties had superseded any others, but it didn't. there was only one order that was at the top of the pyramid, one order that she had to follow above all else. Don't get caught. Never let yourself be taken by the enemy. These police were the enemy. Her heart sank as he stared her down over the barrel of his gun, and a second tear slid down her cheek as she looked back, this one all too real. She hated herself for what she was about to do, knew it was wrong even though every iota of her training said otherwise, but she also knew there was no other way. There were too many, and they were too well equipped to simply incapacitate and flee, even for her. There was no other option.

"RAAARGH!!"

A snarl full of rage and despair tore from her throat as she lunged forward, drowning out the subtle "snikt" as her claws sprang free of their sheaths. A bullet tore into her shoulder, but she ignored it, more tears joining the first as she cut two long gashes through the armor and flesh of the officer in front of her. He fell with a sickening gurgle as she moved on to the man beside him, killing him and three more officers before the others in the room had a chance to react. When they did, it was already too late. She moved like a dancer, almost too quickly for their eyes to follow, much less their guns. Moments after it had begun, the fight was over, and the young woman stood surrounded by the bodies of her victims, blood and tears mingling on her face.

Her claws withdrew almost of their own accord, and she sunk to her knees on the red-covered floor and cried. Not just for the men, but for something else too. Something she couldn't name or identify, or even known she had before, but she knew somehow that whatever it was, she had just lost it forever. There was no turning back for her now. She was a killer through and through, a weapon to be aimed and fired at whatever target her masters required. Any trace of innocence had been wiped away by this single, terrible act, and she wept for the loss of it.

---

It wasn't long after that Harkins stepped through the door, followed by one of the facility's clean up crews. He stopped in front of the kneeling girl and regarded her thoughtfully for a moment as the cleaners set to work planting their bomb.

"You did good, twenty-three."

She didn't raise her head, even though she knew just how rare praise like that was, coming from the man in front of her.

"I killed twelve men."

"And you will kill many, many more before we are through with you."

She looked up at him then, her face stained with blood and half-dried tears, her hair clinging to her skin in swirls of black that wove their way through the red. It was her eyes that caught his attention, though. Where once they had been full of curiosity and enthusiasm, they were now nothing but cold and dead. He had finally succeeded in breaking her spirit, the last stage before she could reach her full potential as his greatest creation. His greatest weapon. He smiled down at her and reached out a hand to help her up. She took it and rose, then looked him dead in the eyes and spoke, her tone as cold and remorseless as her eyes.

"Who's my next target?"