While to took a while Chris found out where the vehicle stopped. Chernobyl. Chernobyl was almost eh exact centre of the circle covering western Russia. How it had managed to get there so fast was beyond him, but he took several satellite photos of an individual in a heavy, concealing cloak, setting up some unidentifiable apparatus. Seemingly satisfied the individual packed up his equipment, turned his vehicle around and speed back the way he had came.

Soon after Chris noticed an attempt to bypass his firewalls. The attempt failed, and he was about to track the source when another, far more sophisticated program hit him. It started to erode its way through the firewalls, changing and adapting to each one in turn. At its current rate of progression Chris had ten minutes until the program made it through. He didn’t waste them

Rather than try and fight off the program he set up a trap for it. Creating a series of deliberately weak firewalls that led to a separate machine he put it in place, manually disconnected anything that could no be risked, and waited. When the program finally broke through it followed the trail of firewalls to a simple terminal. Disconnecting the terminal form the rest of the network the program was now contained.

Chris had just opened a diagnostic program when the machine went dead. Despite his best efforts he could not restart it. Sending it off for a full computer autopsy he went back to trying to trace the hacker, but whoever it was had left no trail to follow. With the latest two events some more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Now he knew how everything was connected, he just needed to know why.

When the results from the autopsy came in they were remarkable. Every scrap of data in every part of the machine had been deleted, including the ROM. He’d never seen anything like it, and wished that he had time to study it. The more he looked into the puzzle the more it intrigued him, but there was still not enough to go to Hunter with.

As Hades waited in the tank, he could still see the readout of the progress of his “special program”, he was surprised at the complexity of the firewalls in the lab, and was even more surprised when he saw that the program was disconnected. From the records the computer ran an automatic analysis as to reasons of failure and from those results Hades concluded that whoever responded to his program was a genius worthy of a challenge, and he determined to answer that, but later.
Then the serum started to take effect, it seemed as if pure acid was traveling in his veins instead of blood, Hades writhed in agony and pain, and then it was all over. Hades sank to his knees as the tank drained and the computer ran a biometric scan. To his relieve everything was ok, and he sub sequentially passed the forced dispersion tests and discovered that the serum had in fact shortened his recovery time.

Being the caution man that he was, Hades wrote a program that would monitor all data to and from a wide general area, kind of like a blanket search. It was a huge undertaking and would use no small percentage of the bases computing power, but what was locked in Europe and in Russia was simply too valuable. “If they only knew, they would kill for it.” “I cannot allow that to happen, since I left my name on the tombstone, someone will sooner or later dredge up old legends and note the scrolls that I am keeper of, Hmph Hades, keeper of the scrolls.”
Days later, the program duly made its report. Hades was alarmed to see that in all the areas that he had been or was about to go someone was tapping in on all information, news and items of interest going into and from those areas. This worried him slightly.

“7 Dark is the name of one of the only two successful Technology Jump Labs operating in the world. The technology that they have and research is terrifyingly advanced. They have successfully started in gene extraction and manipulation technology in the early 1990’s. The seven scientists are rumored to have designed custom made serums for themselves that could boost certain abilities. Of the few in the know or who have heard the rumors the lab once was nicknamed the mutant generator. If the rumors are true then the technology at the lab could not only grant mortal humans the powers of a mutant, it could also vastly boost the power of those with existing mutant powers.

Recent updates on rumors suggest that the seven serums have been successfully tested and are ready to be activated; each contains a genetic blueprint of the intended user and the power. The serums could possibly be used on other subjects although the outcome would not be certain”
End of Classified report

Hades mused over the classified report that he had accessed and deleted from government top secret digital vaults. This particular document was deemed so classified that only a handful of people had heard of it much less seen it.

Hades readied his things, it was time to put his plan into action. Finally after all the preparations had been made he stepped up to a wall and drew a long series of symbols. So long and detailed were the symbols that when the electricity pulsed through them they lit up the whole room and the corridors leading off it.

Programs were loaded, assembly lines were activated, and in the dark caverns, vaults were removed and carried away, ANNWN went into full operation capacity. Hades satisfied that all was in order, set off in a private transport to the nearest airport, to catch a plane bound for Europe.

A cross-referencing of everything that was even linked to something that had happened in any of the three circles had been going on since they were on the map. While the machines that were searching through the data were exceptionally fast, the amount of data that had been gathered by Hunter and those who worked for him over the decades was vast.

So vast, that it had only just reached the reference of the Technology Jump laboratory from 1932.

The lactation of the site that was destroyed just before Hunter could enter it was almost in the centre of the central Europe circle. This was all starting to make sense. Whoever was doing all of this was most likely after the lab, and may possibly already have something from it, the vehicle and the unidentified organic compound. Now he had enough to tell Hunter. This was something that should capture the man’s interest.

As the transport drew up besides the airport, Hades activated another one of his little gadgets, immediately his appearance changed to a distinguished looking man with a commanding air. His clothes were immaculate, his stride confident, to all around he looked a handsome young man striding off to an important meeting.

To Hades relief check in went without a hitch, and his poison containment shield worked well. The shield did not totally contain his poison, it mere made it easier to control, When Hades returned from Europe the poison control serum and the effect enhancement serum should be ready, all that was left was to begin the rigorous training program that he has planned to hone his powers. When he went through customs, something flagged up, apparently he was the subject of a random security check, and was asked to go to a separate room escorted by guards. He suspected as much when he was led to an interrogation cell.

“Something about me dredged up a red flag, oh bother; well if they want to interrogate me then they are really asking for it.”

One minute the guards were standing around this well dressed man while one guard read from a screen and frowned. Then he began to ask questions, apparently the government had listed Hade’s as a dangerous suspect and possible terrorist, but the proud captain wanted to be the one hwo had brought him down, so he did not send out the general alert, not that it would have mattered due to one of Hade’s precautionary programs.

The interview was getting increasingly hostile, and to the point where Hades had had enough. He wanted to catch the flight and was growing increasingly worried about Europe being monitored, funnily enough all his tracing programs lead after days of dead ends and clever deception back to this strange MONDRAGON Lab.

Finally Hades acted, one minute he was sitting there the next minute out of this well dressed man a vision of death appeared, at the same time the room seemed instantly filled with a faint green gas. The next minute the guards had frozen for a second and all fell to the floor stone dead with the look of absolute horror on their faces. “They must like my new hair cut” mused Hades. He then proceeded to erase all flags associated with his name and stroll casually onto the plane.

The death of the guards was discovered two minutes and thirteen seconds after the plane which Hades was on took off. Chris was made aware of the event one minute and forty seven seconds after that. He guessed it was done by whoever was going hunting for the labs.

Hunter needed to know about this now, so Chris contacted him and explained the situation. He got orders back to mobilise units to meet Hunter there. He needed to gather a few Kabal members and would fly out there himself.

thread moved to theultimatexmen.proboards26.com/index.cgi?board=europe&action=display&thread=1191317042&page=1#1191317042

(continued from: theultimatexmen.proboards26.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=fanfic&thread=1193321634&page=1 ('Wanderings'))

The air whispered of some kind of abandonment, some great feeling of eeriness shrouded the whole place, making the trees seem secretive and haughty at their great height. Carrie shuddered. She had been walking for over four days now and still hadn’t reached the big red spot marked on the map. She squinted again, to no avail. It looked like it said Chernobyl, but Carrie wasn’t sure. Still, she was sure this wasn’t it. It looked almost exactly like the rough map sketch of a Mongolian village Lucien had drawn out for her. ‘Avoid that place. You don’t want to go near it,’ he had said.

‘How helpful,’ she muttered. It was getting dark; her stock of food was running low. Fleeing and dropping half her provisions whilst being chased by bear had been less than pleasant. One day had been spent searching for food alone, only to learn half her berries were poisoned as were all the mushrooms. Only the sandpapery fungi seemed edible.

Spying a large hut at the end of the path, Carrie made up her mind to kip for the night. The extreme quietness in the run-down village made her hair stand on end. It would be nice if she could get a fire dancing and light the place up. Then a bit more planning and handful of berries before bed.

A crackling noise made Carrie jump. She looked down. They were only bone-dry twigs and dead leaves. There were a more twigs and some inconspicuous wooden splinters poking around. Carrie treaded the ground with more care, trying to take as little time as possible to reach door of the big hut.

Its door was swinging gently in the breeze, though Carrie thought it could hardly be called a door. Three planks nailed together with one in the center was hardly a door though it served its purpose.

She stepped inside, and gasped.

Sprawled across the entire room were bodies. The village hadn’t been deserted, it had been murdered. Robbed of its simpleminded existence, from what, Carrie didn’t want to know. Outside, the wind whistled, slamming the door behind her. The hungry walker almost jumped out of her skin. Here she was, closed in with a village load of the dead smiling up at her, smiling up at her! Lucien was right, she didn’t want to know, and now that she did, she wished she didn’t.

You can still leave, a voice at the back of her head pushed. Yeah, leave this whole bloody cursed village. But something made her stay. Something made her stare back, challengingly, at the faces of madness that grinned up at her.

Carrie moved carefully around the room, bending to close the eyes of each of the dead. The smiles she left, there was no way she was going to touch those lips. They were unnatural, it was like being back at the slave auction again, where she had escaped from three years ago with innumerous scratches and bruises. It had been a festive day, with drinks sloshing down every bidder’s stomach, whether it went through the mouth or the nostrils. By morning, ten had been trampled dead with the raving look of lunatics still hanging off them.

The smell wasn’t so bad, the freezing atmosphere and open hut must’ve kept the stench away, except that one smell which seemed to come from the back of the room. Dreading what she’d see, but curious, Carrie pushed back piles of hay and more wood, trying not to trip over anyone’s broken nose along the way. What she saw made her throat constrict.

Her eyes widened in horror at the most gruesome thing she’d ever saw. Nothing Slaveeka had taken her through back in her slavery days even came close to this. The man, or what had been a man, obviously died in terror. His had been a gruesome death without a doubt. The shriveled up body must’ve been given the same treatment as the others, but unlike the others, he did not smile. The contorted face screamed of pain, fear and absolute agony. In the moonlight, the bones of the few toes that had not yet succumbed to frostbite jutted out from his skin.

There was no reason to stay the night, anywhere away from this forsaken derelict village was better than here. Now she knew why it was eerie. The trees had failed to keep their secret. Deeply shaken, Carrie made a run for it, tripping over more than a few of the dead in her desperation to exit. Wet slime specks spurted over her hands and face, she knew she must’ve cut into some of the dead, but she didn’t care, she had to get out of there, had to, something was slowing her -

Carrie looked down and almost screamed. There attached to her shoe was a dead woman, the heel had slashed right through the woman’s mouth and flesh was flapping from it, leaving a messy trail of skin bits behind. Carrie shook her foot violently, but the more she did, the more flesh came out. She could see that the woman’s tongue had rotted away.

The swung open again, to Carrie’s utter relief. Strong arms pulled her, jerking her out. Her rescuer slammed the door with a vengeance.

‘Mazimiyas at your service, I’ll explain later, the Stokes family is anxious,’ without waiting for a reply, he disappeared into the trees. He needn’t have worried, she had heard the name before, Mazimiyas. Friend or not, Carrie was too overwrought to think straight. She hurried behind him

Sometime between midnight and the early hours of the morning, Carrie reached a small clearing with a large cabin in the middle. Her guide Mazimiyas, though well built with sinewy features and a straight jaw suggesting determination, looked haggard. He had spoken little. She only knew enough to feel she was safe; the man had worked for Rokha until the building had closed. Rokha was an unsteady man with a disposition given to suspicion and had put dynamite into one of the elevators, exploding the place, giving his workers little time to evacuate. She wondered about Daniel and Lucien, even. They must’ve known each other, otherwise how would Mazimiyas know she was here? That must be the reason why.

A voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘We’re here now, go in quietly, the twins are sleeping, Mrs. Stokes has dinner prepared for you.’ Carrie nodded, strange happenings were such a daily part of life she wasn’t surprised any more.

A bronze haired woman smiled, as she put a plump arm around Carrie’s shoulders, steering her to the center of the room where a green doily had been laid. The table was heavy with dishes of turnip, bread, roast goat and mushroom stew. The woman who had brought her in muttered to Mazimiyas in rapid French. Carrie’s mind ticked as she tried to read their lips. She’d learnt to lip-read, but having failed French three times in high school, she could barely make out what they were saying.

The two sat down. Mazimiyas reached behind him to grab three wooden bowls on the shelf and eating utensils. He passed them around. They sat there for a while, filling their stomachs in silence. Carrie’s warmed, as the feeling in her fingers filled again. She was still a little shaken from her encounter with the dead earlier, but the friendliness of these people had a very calming effect.

Having eaten her fill, Carrie looked around. The cabin was large and comfortably furnished with rugs, cushions and a fireplace. She could see pots and pans hanging next to a large painting above the mantle of what must be a French countryside. How these French had ended up in this forsaken place she could only wonder why. Three doors spoke of rooms. One was closed, two open with what must be the twins sleeping snuggly under layers of quilts in a straw bed, a boy and a girl with flaxen hair who looked no older than four.

The third door led to a faded pink room with floral prints on the walls, two single beds and a simple jewelry mirror desk. The curtains were drawn and tea light candles cast a dim glow against the shadows of the room. One bed looked like it hadn’t been touched in months. Carrie’s fine vision spied a thin layer of dust on the simple bed sheets and pillow.

‘My angel, Melissa,’ Mrs. Stokes said quietly. Her crinkled eyes had a dreamy, far-away look, framed in lines that spoke of both laughter and sorrow. She glanced at Carrie. ‘My daughter.’

‘Oh,’ Carrie wondered. This was getting stranger and stranger. But she was getting used to that.

‘We will be bringing her flowers at dawn.’ Mrs. Stokes pointed to the sprigs of bluebells propped up in a thin jug. ‘Her favorite. We want you to come,’ she said, turning steely. Where this French woman had access to fresh bluebells was beyond Carrie’s numbing brain.

Want me to come? But why? Who are these people? I’ve never even heard of a Melissa Stokes, let alone one in the middle-of-nowhere-Mongolia. Sloppy. Sloppy! She silently scolded herself. Had she learnt nothing in her slave days from Slaveeka to take care of herself? What of her mission? Sloppy work!

Mrs. Stokes had just finished talking about her twin youngsters Mary and Michael and was describing her cranky and usually fuming father as Carrie turned the rusting knob to peek inside when she felt something sharp poke her from behind the ear.

‘Can I offer you a sparkly brooch in exchange for that kitchen knife?’ she asked, eyes wide in maidenly innocence. ‘It’s in my drawstring bag.’ The accusing voice exploded in her head again. ‘Sloppy! Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy! You fool, Mietzl, always thinking of your belly, a friendly face is the biggest liar – nobody suspects the beautiful!’ it screamed. It was just like Slaveeka to scream like that when she messed up, and I’m doing it now too, she thought dryly. Next time I may not have a peace token. If there is a next time.

‘We don’t want your brooch, Carrie,’ Warm blood trickled down the arch of her neck as Mazimiyas released his grip on the knife, swinging it back. It sliced clean into the butter. Carrie was impressed. The man was good with his knives, and Carrie suspected other pointed weapons too. He may’ve knocked her to panic slightly, but he had revealed more than he obviously wanted to, such as a softer side and a desperately needed bargain, Carrie thought satisfied. And here comes the bargain.

‘Now I’m ready to listen,’ Carrie shifted on the rug, turning her nails in true female insolence. Her hosts hadn’t even twitched, and she liked it. It had been long since she’d last met someone who can keep a blank face. Mrs. Stokes face was one of polite interest, thoughts hidden skillfully behind amber eyes.

Mazimiyas stuck a hand into the back of his jean pocket, producing a glimmering glass phial. Carrie glanced at it, still playing the façade of disinterest. The back of her mind tickled, excitedly Carrie analyzed. The phial was ordinary; it was of no importance, the solution, however, perked her interest. She’d seen something like this before, smoky wisps of bluish smoke, only it didn’t have bits of quartzy-looking bits floating inside.

‘Did the work for you, jarred this in Chernobyl. Lucien figured you may get lost,’ he shrugged, indifferent. ‘I know the rural plateau better than anyone anyway.’ He popped the phial in the middle of the rug. ‘We want you to analyze this.’

It was no surprise that the men knew each other. She figured they’d known she was a mutant anyway, though how they’d known of her powers…. well, she could’ve let things slip. ‘And why would I do that?’ she asked, still playing the role of a very self-contained time-given woman.

Her hosts didn’t answer. Mazimayas held up the phial, turning it slowly, ‘this contains power.’ The candles lighting the room hit it, reflecting in every direction, the substance inside glowed. ‘Interesting,’ he murmured.

Carrie wearily looked on with a face of polite interest. If they want me to test it, then they better have a bargain, and a good one. Mazimayas looked up sharply, ‘we want you to test this.’

Carrie raised an eyebrow; had the man can read her thoughts? But how would he know that she could….? No, he couldn’t, I’ll make sure of that, she thought stoutly. Besides, she would’ve been able to feel if he was, was – like her. Her skin would glow a silvery-white if any mutant was near. And she wasn’t buzzing right now.

‘Heh?’ she startled.

‘He said can you please test this out to see if it will –

Bang.

Blue - violet smoke engulfed them, wind blasted from the center, knocking Carrie face down. Nearby, she heard a nose crack and someone swore. Her hair sprang from its coils, whipping the back of her neck. She shivered as sweat rolled down her back. The room was falling to an icy temperature.

The smoke dropped quickly, leaving a large gap between itself and the ceiling and a small one from the floor as it levitated sweeping around everything else.

Squinting, Mazimayas voiced the question on everyone’s mind. ‘What is this stuff?’

Carrie trudged down the woody area surrounding the clearing, kicking rocks whilst Mazimayas and Mrs. Stokes’ family paid their respects at the Stokes’ eldest child’s tomb. A falcon called out in the distance. On the tomb were words. Someone had scratched ‘Hades’ on it. Certainly it was not the door to hell. Carrie shook her head. She did not like mysteries. The mutant had had more than enough mysteries of late. And what with the phial…

It was weird. Usually whenever I am near anything unusual like mutant blood she thought, my skin shield glows and hums. What’s this? It is not normal! “I hate things that are not normal,” she muttered irritably. Whatever it was had not given much of a reaction, except the explosion; and that wasn’t a normal explosion either. Carrie could’ve sworn she felt air sucked in and pushed out again. The result had Mazimayas smashing into a brass cabinet and now sporting a nose that resembled one of her squashes back home. That and a bluish print with loops and whorls like a thumbprint on the nape of her neck. Mazimayas had a similar one, except on his chest. Mrs. Stokes was marked on the ankle.

The distressed falcon in the distance called again. Something twanged. Carrie turned, in time to see an arrow flying straight for Mrs. Stokes.

Whipping into action, she flung out her shield. ‘We’re under attack!’ she yelled. They started pouring in, some with drawn daggers, others with flying stars. One plunged at Mazimayas as he met him with a flying kick, a fist up and under. The bandit roared, dropping his knife. Furious, his comrades closed in, roaring. With a glance, Carrie could see the oldest Stokes scoop up the twins and run for cover. Mrs. Stokes handled two attackers single-handedly, her hands full with knives. That woman never goes without kitchen weapons, Carrie thought, grimly amused. Archers and flying stars had her jumping everywhere, illuminating the place with her shield. A lucky star slashed past her shield, opening a gash in her shoulder. Gritting her teeth, Carrie focused her mind as she jumped back closer to the others. The bandits were closing in. Behind her, she heard a man snarl. Mazimayas had been cut open in the side. She turned just in time to see him pick off another man with a flying kick. It was time to speed things up.

Biting her lip, the mutant closed her eyes to slits, concentrating. If this works with willpower… reaching deep back, the girl growled in her throat, flinging her energy forward, the shield doubled in size and blasted out, a blazing barricade that knocked and burned everyone in front.

Mazimayas tramped around, breathing hard. To him, these men were little more than peasants. Trained peasants, he thought.

A boy no older than eighteen, with coppery hair stood out amongst the four other men, who looked just as scruffy and scar-riddled as him. Their clothes smelt of muddy river water and eyes flashed of either hunger driven madness or sullenness. One bent old clod fingered the amulet of a fallen comrade nearby, sniffing. The boy kicked him, hard. Clearly he was leader to the group, and intelligent. The crude ties Carrie had made to bind the living bandits from the clothes of the dead lay in a heap. Where she had gotten the idea he wanted to know, when Carrie arrived back from scouting out the area with sticks for more people.

‘None,’ she said. Mazimayas closed his mouth. He’ll just wait till later. ‘I think we’ve all of them.’ Kneeling, she soon had a fire blazing.

‘Here,’ Mrs. Stokes settled down with two fish in hand. Carrie nodded.

Carrie went for a check on the prisoners leaving the others to cook. They ate in silence, tired and weighed with thoughts. Mrs. Stokes threw the remainder of her dinner to the men, whose heads bent down, wolfishly devouring skin, flesh and bone. The boy glared at his comrades.

Mazimayas eyed Carrie wearily.

‘I think you owe me some explanation,’ she said.

He groaned. He knew this was coming.

My boss had said Mietzl would be able to identify why we react this way; why I react this way; he never said she would be stung by it. Maybe it’s that crazy shield of hers. Hm, interesting, now how do I get into her mind? If only we knew the significance of this… liquid.

Carrie stared. Was she reading his thoughts? Impossible. Mrs. Stokes sat away with the men, making them useful by whittling bits of bark for more eating utensils.

‘I can hear you.’

‘What?’ What? She can –

Yeah, I can. Odd isn’t it. What are you?

Mazimayas looked at her, highly offended. ‘What am I?’

‘Yeah. What are you?’