“Would you like a cup of tea Mr. Stark?” The old woman asked as the tall thin man sat at her kitchen table.

“No. But thank you for asking” The detective politely refused pulling out a notebook and pencil from the inside of his suits jacket.

“Why aint you taken off your hat or scarf. It ain’t polite ta keep your face covered in another man’s house.” The gruff old man grumbled to his guest more than a hint of a Russian accent.

“I have a cold. Wouldn’t want you to catch it” Clay lied smoothly.

“And ya sunglasses?”

“I’ve been told I have an unnerving stare. Now you were telling me about your granddaughter?”

The woman nodded and sat beside her husband. Their hands clasped and they subconsciously leaned closer one another for comfort “Yes, Elena Vasin. She went missing a week ago at the airport. We were supposed to pick her up but, well you must know how bad the traffic can get around here. We were almost an hour late. And when we got there she was gone.”

“We asked around but no-one could remember seeing her. We went home hoping she'd gotten a cab but Elena did not turn up that evening or the next day.” Mr. Vasin put an arm around his wife. “I called my son in Moscow but she defiantly got onto the plane. She's just vanished. Poof. Into the thin air”

Clay looked up from his notebook. “Does she have any other friends or family in the states? Could she have just...”

“No!” A hint of anger hinted the old Russian man’s voice as he glared at the slim detective across from him.

“And even if she did she would have come to see us first.” Mrs. Vasin explained putting a placating hand on her husbands shoulder.

Clay nodded. “Why haven’t you called the police?"

The old woman sighed. “We did but the police claimed that she was an adult and there is no evidence of foul play. And the young man who came by to take a statement seemed to loose what little interest he had when we told him the Elena is a mutant.”

“Izabella!”

“Oh hush Viktor. We had to tell him. He would have discovered it for himself sooner or later.” She soothed her fuming husband. But glanced at Clay nervously.

Clay raised a placating gloved hand. “I don’t care that she's a mutant. She would be just as missing if she wasn’t. Unless her mutation was that she always knew where she was. That would be far more useful than some powers I've seen an heard about. While we're on the subject what could she do?”

“She's an artist.” Mr. Vasin explained gruffly. “That’s why she was coming here in the first place. She could make pictures move, especially if they had been painted by her. That’s why she's here in the first place she was going to show off her work in America maybe join a studio. Some of them were so lifelike they looked more like videos than paintings. Everything she makes is beautiful, just like her.”

The old woman was crying now she slipped a picture of her granddaughter across the table. “Find her Mr. Stark. Find our granddaughter and bring her home to her family.”

…

Clay stepped out of the little apartment and sighed. He rechecked the scarf that covered the lower half of his skull and re-angled his hat to shadow his eye sockets. The walked off down the street and pulled out the photograph. The girl was beautiful. And new to the country, young, naive, traveling alone and barely speaking the language.

The first place to look would be at the coroners and hospitals, to check if a girl matching Elena's description had been brought in. After that he would push a few contacts and knock on a few doors around the airport. Nobody could simply go missing in such a large well guarded and well observed place. It just wasn’t possible. Someone had seen something Clay felt sure of that. The only problem was finding out what and where the girl had gone from there.

This wasn’t going to end well he could already feel it in his bones.

Sveta had been tracking this operation for weeks now. It was personal, in more ways than one. Almost all the missing girls were mutants, and quite a few of them were also mail order brides. Sveta had been down that road, by her choice and own free will, but something else was happening here, something horribly wrong, and she was hell bent on finding out what.

And now there was a new player in the game. Lights flooded the area of the airport, but Sveta, wearing the costume that some people in the city were starting to recognize as the "Scarlet Russian" (well, at least some of the people, mostly the ones that had the good grace of not naming her Red Russian two generations after the Cold War), stayed in the shadows, keeping an eye on the tall, lanky figure that seemed to be just as observant as she was. Her blue eyes narrowed behind her mask. Most girls went missing straight from the airport. Everyone, and everything, was suspicious.

“Listen Joey, I just need the surveillance tapes for last Sunday afternoon.” Clay spoke into his cellphone as he unfolded himself out of the cab. “Not even the originals, you people can copy things like that now right?”

“I cant do it Clay. It would break so many laws. Hell, I don’t even know if I can count as high as the laws I'd be breaking send you something like that.”

“Joey you owe me.” Clay reminded him forcefully as he casually jumped up onto a fire escape a story up. “You owe me and you know what its like to have a family member missing. Not knowing where they are... Scared for what’s being done to them... Helplessly waiting to-”

“OK, ok, enough with the emotional blackmail already. Look I'll review the tapes for you, see what there is to be seen. Best I can do for you.”

“That’s all I ask. You have a copy of the picture? Good. Say hello to Carrie for me will you. Bye” The detective walked up another few stories, the fire escape barely making any noise under his slight weight and careful footing. He reached the window he wanted and checked inside.

A television was on, showing that game that Americans insisted on calling football. The fridge was open casting light into an otherwise shadowy kitchen. Empty beer cans littered the sagging sofa and a stack of pizza boxes served as a side-table for the occupants evening meal. Which was, shockingly, pizza. Clay paused for a few minutes wondering what pizza tasted like, bread, tomato, greasy cheese and pepperoni. It sounded at the same time awful and wonderful. He shrugged the question away. Pulled off his scarf and sunglasses. Pulled out a set of handcuffs and launched himself through the window in a spray of glass.

He landed crouched and then rolled to rid himself of the excess momentum and sprang onto his feet. Donnie Amaro yelled in shock and alarm but managed to throw his half empty beer can in Clays general direction. Clay knocked the flying beer can aside took two steps forward and kicked Donnie in the knee. He grunted in pain falling to one knee just in time for his forehead to meet a very boney elbow.

…

Donnie woke up with a sore head his hands cuffed behind his back and leaning over the railing of his fire escape. Very far over the railing of his fire escape.

“Hello Donnie, before we begin I must apologize. I may have accidentally given you a few cuts while I was dragging you out of your broken window. That wasn’t my intention and I do apologize... Please stop screaming Donnie, I'm not going to let you fall... Well that’s a lie, I might. But only if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”

“I. I dddont know nuffin.”

Clay sighed let Donnie drop a few more inches. Listened to his squeal a little and then spoke. “Donnie Amaro, a little ghost told me that once upon a time you worked for an organized crime family that specialized in kidnapping young women and holding them for ransom.”

“Those charges never stuck. Besides I've been clean fa years, ask anyone. Oh my god are you a skeleton?!”

“Yes”

“That’s really weird. And honestly, a little bit scary. Oh God, are you Death?”

“No! Why dose everyone ask that? Long black robes look horrid on me. So 1666.” He let Donnie slip a little bit more and then carried on after he'd calmed down enough to listen. “Now I know its been a while since you performed any kidnappings yourself Donnie, but I know people like you, you keep your ears to the ground. You pride yourself on knowing what’s going on. So my question is this. Who’s been taking girls from the airports Donnie?”

“I already told you man! I don’t know nuff-”

A bony fist slammed into a kidney and he completely left the rail. He screamed held up only by two thin hard hands wrapped around his ankles. “The bright side to being undead skeleton is that I don’t get tired. I can hold you like this alllll day Mr. Amaro. The downside of being a undead skeleton is a distinct risk of dislocation. I'm not too worried. My arms will probably land on your soft fleshy corpse. I mean I'll have to wash them a little, get all the blood off... but I wouldn’t mind too much. So I'll ask again and for the last time. Who's been taking girls from the airports Donnie?”

“OK, OK. I heard about these guys. They’ve been taking girls, but not just from airports. Homeless chicks, women who enter the country to be mail order brides. You know, girls that wont get missed!”

“Who and why.”

“I don’t know why!” There was a popping sound and Donnie was suddenly swinging from one leg screaming. “I Don’t Know Why!! Please! I just got a name. Please don’t kill me!”

“THE NAME”

“Jason! Jason Romero! He’s some kinda mutant. He runs a gang down by the docks. Bad place, worse people. You shouldn’t mess with them!”

“Thank you Mr. Amaro. You've been most helpful.” He swung Donnies screaming form and then let go. He landed in a heap on the platform of the fire escape just under the one Clay stood on. The detective ambled down the metal stairs, removed his handcuffs and arm from a weeping Donnie Amaro and carried on by. “Stay out of trouble Mr. Amaro. And remember, the dead are watching you.”

...

Clay whistled tunelessly as he rounded the corner making a few notes and doodles in his notebook. He had a name and a general area to search. Helpful, very helpful but not conclusive on the word of a man under... well lets say duress.

He headed towards the airport hoping to meet up with Joey. If he had a picture of who took Elena, or at the very least how she was taken that could help. And if he could prove she was taken against her will the police would have to get involved mutant or not.

“Mr. Clay, your being followed again.” The little girl floated a few meters ahead of the skeleton as he moved towards the airport. She looked around six or seven wearing a simple cotton dress and bright red shoes. She clutched a ghostly grey teddy bear to her chest as she looked up at the skeleton with wide eyes.

“The lady in the costume Bell?” Clay asked as he turned down the closest ally and while he was out of sight quickly ducked behind a parked van.

“Yep all red, kinda like a superhero.”

“Good girl. Tell me when she's about to draw level with me OK, Bell? Can you do that for me?” Clay asked quietly as he pulled a solid looking police truncheon from its hiding place inside his ribcage.

“Sure Mr. Clay.”

There was something disturbing about the guy in the hat. Sure, he looked shady by default with that hat and scarf and all that, something out of a spy movie. (Sveta never liked spy movies. It was always the Russians turning out to be the bad guys in the end.)

But other than the looks, there was something more. He was gangly, and moved in a certain way... Sveta pursed her lips as she watched. He was definitely at the airport for a reason, and no luggage. He didn't look like someone about to catch the next flight to LA. He didn't look like someone here to pick someone up either, and that bothered Sveta more. He did not join the crowd of excited relatives and friends and overly friendly taxi drivers. He was here for something else.

Sveta waited till she saw him exit the building. If she lucked out, if she really, for once, lucked out, he would be accompanied by a young woman, and Sveta could follow them to beat him into a pulp in a convenient alley. If he was not, however... well, Sveta would have to improvise.

“She's not coming down here Mr. Clay” the little girl ghost said as she peeked around the van.

Clay shrugged and slipped the truncheon back into its hiding spot inside his ribcage. “Then maybe she's not following me after all. Maybe she's just creeping for the sake of creeping.”

“Really?”

“Nope. I was just being wistful.” Clay tilted his head in amusement. He crouched down eye level with the little ghost girl.“Bell do me favor and follow her around for a few hours, then come and let me know what she's been doing, who she's been seeing, stuff like that.”

“Like a spy?”

“Exactly like that. Think you can handle it little one?”

“Sure. I can be super sneaky.”

“Good girl.”

…

Clay sat on a bench just inside the airport. His scarf and hat were resting on his lap, exposing his skull to passersby. It was marginally better for security to monitor a mutant than to monitor a man who was purposely covering his face. Marginally.

He was reading a Harry Potter book while he waited. The writing style seemed to be aimed a children but he had been assured that the recommended audience grew along with the main characters. Overall he was enjoying it be bemoaning the lack of skeletons in literature.

“Hey Clay. You look a healthy as ever.” Clay looked up to see Joey his contact in airport security standing in front of him along with his seventeen year old daughter Carrie. Clay stood, gave Carrie a bony hug and shook Joey's hand.

“Nice to see you both again. Although someone always seems to be missing when we meet. Carrie you staying out of trouble? Good. Now what have you got for me?”

Joey pulled out a group of printed surveillance photos and passed them on to Clay. “These pictures show Elena Vasin arriving from Moscow and being picked up. Obviously looking at them now its obvious she was threatened and marched off against her will.”

“Why wasn't anything done at the time?” Clay asked as he leafed through the printouts. It indeed showed Elene being frogmarched across the terminal and out of the airport. The distress on her face was obvious.

“There was a suspicious package being investigated at the same time at the other end of the airport. Most of the security team was tied up over there.”

“A distraction...”

“Probably. I'm sorry Clay, I hope this helps.”

“Faces... names... They don’t really help without a location or motive. The airport and the docks are big areas to search. But thanks Joey I appreciate it.” He shook the big security man’s hand again, slipping the printouts into his book and then the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Do me a favor for a favor Clay? Walk Carrie out to her car? She brought me my dinner but I always get worried for her, walking to her cab in the dark.”

“Dad! Don’t be so stupid, I'll be fine!” Carrie moaned exasperated.

Clay finished winding his scarf back around his face. He placed his hat back on his shiny white skull and held out an arm. “Humor two old men Miss. Carrie and allow an old gentleman to feel good about himself for a few minutes. After all if my ego isn’t inflated every few minutes I may just seize up and die. Again.”

The young woman sighed and looped her arm through his. “Lead on then skinny.”

They walked out of the airport together and The skeleton helped her into the back of a cab. He paused looking about and then walked off casually, running through the case notes in his mind.

The lanky man walked out of the airport area accompanied by a young woman.

Bingo.

There was a moment of hesitation - should she go after the girl, or after the tall figure walking off into the shadowy streets? The hero in her said she should save the girl.
But Sveta was a vigilante.

If this guy was the one picking off the girls, that meant that he knew where all the others had gone. She could save all, or at least more than just one.

Slipping out of the shadows, the Scarlet Russian let the cab pass by, and followed the tall figure into the streets. She matched her pace to his and waited for a few corners for the late crowd to thin, and when they were alone on a side street, she stepped up behind him, pointing a gun at the back of his head.

"Stop right dere." she said coldly "Do not make a move."

If I was kidnapping a dozen or so women where would I hide them. Well a specially prepared hotel that I had bought and prepared years earlier through a long and convoluted series of shell company’s. But not everyone’s as smart as me. So if I was a gang of criminals kidnapping women, with enough sense to take ones that wouldn’t be missed, but stupid and arrogant enough to risk taking them from airports where would I keep them...

Clay was pondering as he walked down the road and into a side street. That was the one good thing about not having to eat or sleep, you gained much more pondering time. So he pondered upon his questions and their answers right up until the heavy click of a gun interrupted his line of reasoning. Guns tend to do that.

The detective froze listening to the voice. English, russian accent, female and such a cold voice, she's angry about something but what? Slowly and carefully he raised his black gloved hands. “Hello there. Am I being mugged?” Clay asked dryly and annoyingly calmly. “I've never been mugged before... Is there anything special I have to do? Please be gentle, its my first time...” He shifted his wrist slightly changing the angle of his watch face until... there we go. A blurry reflection of the gun woman. Clay could just make out the mask. The costumed creeping lady. He wondered where Bell had wondered off too, dismissed it as unimportant.

Fight or flight? Information first. Then he would decide.

>>“Hello there. Am I being mugged? I've never been mugged before... Is there anything special I have to do? Please be gentle, its my first time...”

"No" Sveta said louder this time, sufficiently annoyed by the calm voice "You would be happy to get mugged, dirtbag."

She still had the gun pointed at his head. If anyone walked in on them in the side street, it would have looked like a mugging. Except for the mask.

"I will only ask you once, and den I start shooting limbs. You try anything but talk, I will shoot you in the head. So listen well. Were. Are the girls?"

Time was off the essence. The good thing about not being an X-men: Sveta was left to her own conscience.

“Dirtbag? That’s mildly insulting.” Clay's continued to speak calmly as his mind raced connecting the dots, trying to make sense of the masked girls statement. Was this masked woman on the same trail he was? If so then why was she pointing a gun at the back of his head? Aside from being rude and unnerving it was frankly more than a little counter productive.

Unless she was working for whoever was taking the girls. She could be trying to find out how much he knew before silencing him. But that made no sense, no-one knew he was looking for the missing girls. Apart from the Vasin's, Joey and his girl, a few ghosts and... And Donnie, damn.

Clay slowly shrugged his shoulders.“OK the girls. I'm assuming you talking about the kidnappings? Elena Vasin and the others. A few from the airport, but most taken from the streets and other places where they wont be missed. Yes, I know a little about that .” He paused and cocked his head. “But why should I tell you anything?”

He slowly and calmly started to turn around on the spot. He made no sudden movements, kept his hands raised and unthreatening. He kept talking calmly. His hat, sunglasses and scarf remained in place, but he could now see her clearly at least. “You have a gun to my head. And while i understand the need to be in a position of strength you'll forgive me if it makes me feel disinclined to help you. So go on, shoot me. See how far it gets you. Or you could put the gun down and we can talk like civilized people.”

As he talked he could feel something just on the edge of his perception. It was a deeply embedded feeling that was slowly worming its way back into the back of his mind. For some reason Clayton Stark was feeling the need to breath.

>>“Dirtbag? That’s mildly insulting.”

So, he understood Russian. That did not make Sveta feel any more comfortable. She decided to stick to English. Mostly out of spite.

>>“OK the girls. I'm assuming you talking about the kidnappings? Elena Vasin and the others. A few from the airport, but most taken from the streets and other places where they wont be missed. Yes, I know a little about that. But why should I tell you anything?”

Bin. Go. The guy knew about the kidnappings, and had no qualms about talking about them. The corner of Sveta's lips curled up slightly, but she held the gun firmly pointed at his head.
The stranger started to turn around slowly, and Sveta tensed up, but let him do it. Looking into someone's eyes was always...
... well, damn.

>>“You have a gun to my head. And while i understand the need to be in a position of strength you'll forgive me if it makes me feel disinclined to help you. So go on, shoot me. See how far it gets you. Or you could put the gun down and we can talk like civilized people.”

"Civilized" Sveta spat the word "Is dat what you call kidnapping innocent girls? Mutants? Because no one misses them? You are a monster."

She held the gun in place, staring down the unreadable gaze behind the sunglasses.

"Last warning. Talk."

Clay cocked his head to one side mildly amused. He wondered, if he had still been able to squint would he have seen steam coming out of her ears? She was mad enough. And now he knew what she was mad about he could understand why. But why she thought he had anything to do with it escaped him. “No civilized is what I called a morally developed and well mannered society. But that’s just me.”

There was something wrong that persistent urge to breath was nudging at the back of his mind. It was stupid but he could swear he cold almost feel his heart. It was like something was reawakening old instincts, making him feel more alive. It should be distracting but at the same time he could feel his mind race. What was happening? What had changed?

“Mutant... Hmm, your a mutant. A psychic? No, I know my own mind well enough to know if someone was intruding... Unusual.” He spoke softly still trying to figure it out. His demeanor suddenly changed, his voice and shoulders stiffening. “Get down off your high horse lady. I'm not a monster even if I look like one. Your the one with the gun so that makes you the bad guy here. Put it down and I'll tell you everything you want to know. Because at the moment all your accomplishing is to wasting both our time.”

>>“No civilized is what I called a morally developed and well mannered society. But that’s just me.”

And now he was getting smart. Sveta's eyes narrowed into hateful slits. The guy did not seem phased by the gun at all. Was he a mutant, or just wearing a vest?...

>>“Mutant... Hmm, your a mutant. A psychic? No, I know my own mind well enough to know if someone was intruding... Unusual.”

Like she was going to tell him what her power was. She stopped doing that a long time ago. Around the first time she got kidnapped for her blood.

"I have enough power to take you" she bluffed in a cool tone, but did not lower the gun.

>>"Get down off your high horse lady. I'm not a monster even if I look like one. Your the one with the gun so that makes you the bad guy here. Put it down and I'll tell you everything you want to know. Because at the moment all your accomplishing is to wasting both our time.”

"I have all de time in the world" she said, stubbornly standing her ground "You know who doesn't? The girl you just sent away in a car. Her, and the others. I saw you. So why should I trust you?"

“The girl I...” Clay looked at her head tilted in confusion. Then he started to laugh, long and hard. He doubled over laughing that weird old instinct breathing a little stronger as he ignored it and laughed on and on not needing to gasp for air. “Carrie? You, you mean Carrie right? The girl at the airport?” He shook his head in amusement and straightened up again hands still loosely raised. “I saved her life a year ago. He father owed me favor so he checked out some security tapes for me. Carries a friend, not a kidnapped victim.”

Clay to a few steps back and lent casually against the wall and crossed his arms. “Look. My names Clayton Stark. I'm a private investigator hired by Viktor Vasin to find his granddaughter a Russian national by the name of Elena Vasin. Who, from what I can gather was taken from this airport against her will a week ago.”

He sighed and continued. “I'm a mutant. I'm not scared of your gun. I'm not your enemy. I'm a little annoyed that your delaying me in finding Miss.Vasin and I'm leaving unless you put the gun away.” Clay turned and unhurriedly started to walk away. “Oh and I'm also a skeleton, just putting that out there.” His head twisted around 180 degrees to look back at the masked girl, his scarf and sunglasses missing. A gleaming white skull grinned at her before finishing the 360 degree turn to look forward again as he walked off.

Sveta had no idea that she had said something amusing, but apparently the guy thought so, because gun or no gun, he doubled over laughing.

>>“The girl I... Carrie? You, you mean Carrie right? The girl at the airport? I saved her life a year ago. He father owed me favor so he checked out some security tapes for me. Carries a friend, not a kidnapped victim.”

>>“Look. My names Clayton Stark. I'm a private investigator hired by Viktor Vasin to find his granddaughter a Russian national by the name of Elena Vasin. Who, from what I can gather was taken from this airport against her will a week ago.”

So, he did know about the kidnappings. He knew names, and times, and places. He was also not behaving very scared, and was not too eager to reassure her of his friendship either. Sveta was getting more and more confused.
He started to walk away.

>>“I'm a mutant. I'm not scared of your gun. I'm not your enemy. I'm a little annoyed that your delaying me in finding Miss.Vasin and I'm leaving unless you put the gun away... Oh and I'm also a skeleton, just putting that out there.”

The head turned around at an unnatural angle, and Sveta, despite her better judgement, let out a scream at the top of her lungs. It was such a dead-on nightmare scene that any horror movie director would have wept tears of joy.
The gun went off and tore into the stranger's coat, otherwise missing the flesh that was not even there.

Sveta clapped a gloved hand over her mouth and lowered the gun, staring at the man's back with wide eyes.

Clay stopped at the sound of the gunshot. He looked down. Turned around and looked up. Looked down again. And then in a mildly annoyed tone he finally spoke. "This... This was my favorite jacket. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a jacket in my size? I'll tell you. Its impossible, everything i wear is tailor made." He stuck a finger in the singed hole the bullet had made in his suit, wiggled it around and sighed. "Well, at least you missed my ribcage. Your an awful shot." He said that last part a little accusingly, as though he'd expected better of her.

He walked over gently sat the stunned girl down on the curb and took the gun away. He carefully put the gun back in its holster and sat down next to her. He looked at her oddly. "OK, you've gone all weird, have you stopped screaming oh good you have."He paused "Its because I'm a skeleton isn't it.?Yes, it can be a little overwhelming for some people. I'll tell you what. While you sort yourself out I'll tell you what I know, then you can tell me what you know and we can meet somewhere in the middle."

He pulled out a battered notebook. He explained Elena's kidnap at the
airport, the distraction that made that possible, the name Donnie had
given him and the general area he was going to have to search. Finally
he pulled out the surveillance tape printed outs  and showed her the
pictures of the two men frog marching Elena away. "Do you recognize them? I'm guessing they work for this mutant called Jason Romero. I've never heard of him and have no idea where in the docks I should start looking. Or even why their taking all these women."

He sighed and looked over at her. "Who are you anyway? Aside from being a bad shot and having an awful sense of fashion that is."