Training. It was, perhaps, something Slate needed to do more diligently. The past few months had not been particularly kind to him. If he was not a healer, he would be rather dead. Even being a healer, he had died—and he had not gotten better, without outside intervention. Additionally, his wardrobe was suffering to an alarming degree—being a dress shirt on his person was turning into some sort of garmentary death sentence.

Therefore, training. Yes. He would do that, at some point.

For today, however: he was here to observe and aid in Iron Mouth’s training. The need to go to Romania was approaching at an alarming rate; their Senate had officially put the Registration Act on its next order of business, and the Romanian Resistance was stirring like a beast of the depths disturbed. He was checking, and double-checking, that all things were ready. And during the last takeover, his lack of preparation had gotten himself and Tarin tortured.

It was not really that Iron Mouth needed additional training: his recent mission to Colombia had gone quite well, by all reports. It was more... that Slate needed to check. Check everything. Repeatedly. For the sake of his poor shirts, if nothing else.

Why Slate wanted to help with training? Slate did not seems to be the kind that fight, well he was a healer after all ... Perhaps he was being underestimating by his boss , yes , it was that . It was all a trick to see what he got , he was really going to test his skills . How dared him to underestimate the almighty Iron Mouth? Wasn't his mutation sufficient for the future missions? Weren't his skills good enough to defeat him even without using his hands?
As he walked resolutely toward the meeting place his mind jumped to the second topic of importance.

Fausto wanted Katrina to accompany him to Romania. He did not want to leave her alone again, the best idea was to take her with him but I was afraid to ask his boss, It was not a stroll through the city he knew it very well , It was a mission of great importance but Mr. I-gonna-do-what-i-want still wanted to take her, he could borrow a gem for himself, but what about her? Slate was not going to give him more gems, maybe if ...

Maybe if he could make Slate recognize his magnificence ... Yes, it was the answer , He had to make himself worthy of take as many gems as he like. Fausto was going to show all the techniques he learned from Sam and Luke. Even his skill with the knife taken from Johnny, and if none of that was enough he was going to bite until the young chief who commanded Kabal recognized who was the real boss . Slate would heal anyway ...

He felt so confident, Fausto was so sure he would show the healer that he was much more than what he believed. Nobody should underestimate him. He did not even bother to knock on the door, he entered without asking and greeted him in such an inappropriate way and also out of place, after all Slate was his boss.
"Yo, Slate. ¨

>> “Yo, Slate.”

“Hello, Iron Mouth.” If any disrespect had been given or intended by his fellow teenager, Slate did not notice it. He was far too busy studying the young man. Iron Mouth looked... healthy. He did, didn’t he? No particular bags under his eyes from an unfortunate lack of sleep, no stray sniffles of impeding colds or flus, no overt signs of poisoning?

Visually, the teen passed Slate’s inspection. Good. When and if they had to go to Romania, Iron Mouth should be ready. Hopefully.

Therefore, Slate needed to know precisely how the teenager could fit into his plans. Therefore, Slate wanted to know everything he could about Iron Mouth’s abilities. Never mind that he had no clue what he would do with the information. He needed to be prepared.

“It has occurred to me,” he started, now that their two lines of greetings were safely out of the way, “that I do not know much about the specifics of your abilities. For instance, what materials can your saliva not cut? Do you have any way to attack without using your mouth?”

He had an entire list of questions, actually. One of the younger secretaries had shown him how to create it on his blackberry. She had not, however, shown him how to open the file back up again.

Although it was not true, the illusion that the possibility exists gives more security. It is not the same to claim to be almost perfect than to say that you are the perfection itself . That little word before a fact opens up many possibilities ... if you're near perfection you are imperfect then what you wanted to affirm ends up being unmasked . So should he tell Slate that his already well-known phrase was incomplete?

His father always used lots of nice phrases to adorn his lessons that were many, almost all sentences were known by all. ¨ Lies are the worst form of cowardice. ¨
He could almost heard his father saying those words from the depths of his memory, though perhaps his brain had forgotten and he remembered in his heart ... Either way there was his father that recalled the importance of sincerity. ¨ If you are a coward then lie, if your heart is not fazed by anything you must face the truth and all it could bring. ¨
His father had nothing to enviable the noble Sir Lancelot, neither his heir to the throne of the Martens family because his heart also roared like a lion strengthened in his pride and courage while feeling that confident pronounced the name of his biggest nemesis. ¨ Glass ¨ Fausto was embarrassed, even blushed a little by admitting that his magnificence was counterbalanced by certain types of glass, just glass.

A smile crossed his face, after having admitted his weakness he had to swing the balance in his favor stating his strengths, otherwise Slate would not be pleased.
¨ I'm trained in close combat especially in locks and disarmament, i also use the knife quite well. ¨ His smile grew with every word and he felt so secure that even allowed himself a comment, a request.
¨ Hey boss, I am incredible, awesome, fast, agile, trained to hide and seek but ya know everything of this is useless against ... i felt so useless in Columbia among all these guns ...¨ Iron waited a reasonable silence to see if his boss showed any reaction of disgust or approval but he do not expect his answer , the impatience beaten him. ¨ Can i have one ... ? ¨

“Glass?” Slate repeated, with a blink. Really? Glass? It was so... simple. Common, even. Slate’s surprise showed on his face. Fausto may have seen it; the younger teen blushed. “Ah,” Slate repeated, with a bit more confidence. “Glass. That would make sense—your saliva is akin to acid, is it not? I believe glass is used in laboratories to contain acid.” Or so he had read. Doctor Ingram really did not appreciate him experimenting with such things in his lab; nor, really, did the Labs’ other researchers. They seemed to think he was a—what was the word?—hazard.

>> ¨I’m trained in close combat especially in locks and disarmament, I also use the knife quite well. ...Hey boss, I am incredible, awesome, fast, agile, trained to hide and seek—¨

The corner of Slate’s lips twitched as Iron Mouth spoke; ‘incredible, awesome, fast, agile, trained to hide and seek’? Was he sure he wasn’t missing a few more descriptions? Really, for such an extraordinary teenager as the Great Fausto, that list was surely far too short.

>> “—but ya know everything of this is useless against ... I felt so useless in Columbia among all these guns ... Can I have one ... ? ¨

His lips returned to their usual level line. “A gun?”

And why not? Really, it made perfect sense: Iron Mouth’s mutation was built for close quarters; he was not well suited against long-range attacks. Yet it seemed, somehow... like Kaz. A mutant who felt so insecure in his own abilities that he carried a full set of battle gear in the trunk of his car at all times, on the off-chance he saw battle. Or, perhaps, like the security he had seen at airports—strict checks and a grand show that really, in the end, did very little to protect people. There was something to be said for preparing for every foreseeable eventuality, to the point of burdening yourself down; likewise, there was something to be said for being able to simply shoot your opponents.

These things were not, perhaps, what Slate wanted his employees to say.

“Do you really have such little pride in your abilities, Fausto Martense?”

While Slate repeated his weakness what he did not expect him to do it outside that room and in the presence of others , he could not help but be concerned by his remarkable surprise, he blushed at the thought that this was a very common weakness for its grandeur and became even more red because not even Kat knew about it. He just smiled when his boss relate his saliva with acid, which was wrong, they always made that mistake ... ¨ Akin but is not acid, nor alkaline ... doctors failed to understand it , I am so awesome that a totally new substance is produced by my body, it have the effect of a lot of acids but is not nulled by the alkaline substance. ¨

Finally his face showed a little emotion, as small as Iron Mouth's self critical sense and as fast as those moments, his smile disappeared almost instantly. As the young man spoke, his employees responded with a frightening look of loathing, these words made his heart beat wildly. How dared to question his abilities? his pride? If the restrictions could been physical, It would be necessary giant chains to hold Iron from bite Slate until he become a shapeless mass of flesh. if so he would learn not to play with his pride. He was like the Titan condemned to hold up the sky, and just so heavy was the burden of which he held in his small shoulders. With all his strength he avoided the desire bite his neck and see him bled.
His voice did not help to soften the glare, it increased hostility toward him, as his voice showed anger and ... jealousy. ¨ I am very confident on my close combat skills but i am not confident at running while dodging bullets to reach a favorable position for my skills to work. Is not my fault, everyone else should do close combat. ¨

Fausto's magazine ran out of bullets, he let the clip slided out and as soon as he breathed the magazine was changed then he started to fire again with the speed and impatience common on him without aiming properly.
¨ I am sure i could not survive with bullets in my Brain, ohh i forgot you could perhaps survive but not everyone else could ... My wounds do not close as quick as yours ...Come on, give me a damn weapon to deal with those. I am glad to work for you but i will not be useful if someone kill me. ¨

“Are you content with being human?” Slate asked, not backing down from the reddening teenager. A large part of that was simply not understanding the danger he was in. “Should I get you a bullet proof vest and a gun? Would you like a shock collar, while I’m at it?”

“You speak of pride. You sing about pride. Yet here you are, telling me that your own mutation is weak.” His baby blue eyes were steady on the mutant before him. He really, really did not understand the danger he was in. “You are not weak, Fausto Martense. Stop acting like it.”

“Let us find a way for your own gifts to overcome your weaknesses: your weakness in range, and your weakness in glass.” He allowed a small smirk to touch his lips. Perhaps he would not have, if he were a true mind-reader. It really was a surprisingly cute weaknesses, though: glass. Heh. The common window pane was the great Iron Mouth’s bane.

Every word was loaded with enough poison to kill the population of a entire country , not by the meaning 'cause it was very soft but for the hatred used in every sound that made these words dangerous. He was a dangerous man.
¨Should i feed from your flesh while my saliva chemically burn your skin, muscles and bones?¨
Fausto advanced like a big feline, measuring his steps, treading carefully but relentlessly moving toward his prey, almost ready to jump, ready to discharge all the pressure of his jaw on the neck of his victim and this time he even could do it without adding another damned to his nightmares .He smiled knowing he could bite, break him, melt him, stomp on his wounded body and he would recover sooner or later.

Immortality could be a good punishment for whose in his mouth.¨Would you be able to heal faster than i could eat?¨His dark eyes that looked like two deep abysses watched the incoming scenes that would happen a few seconds later, a jet of blood sprang from the wounds made with his knife while at the place his mouth tasted the flesh his skin was horribly melted and burned, bubbling. He grinned mentally and physically as his real tongue made each one of his teeth a deadly weapons while he also tasted the imaginary flesh . He wanted to bite him and would had done it but Slate surprised him once again with that voice so challenging and yet so devoid of emotion. Ignorant, reckless, masochist or very confident in healing abilities. Fausto cursed what he had swore :loyalty and justice. Because Little Boss really deserved a strong bite. Nobody had insulted such a magnificent person as him without receiving a punishment. He alsmost growled.
¨Tell me what you have in mind.¨
What hurt him more was that Slate was alright, Fausto was thinking as himself as a human , not that being a human was a sin seeing his parents were humans and created such splendor , but why at that moment he saw himself as a pitiful being while everything in him spoke of pride? . Even his heart beats sang the song of royal blood running through his unholy veins. or was the skinny conqueror being unreasonable by using his brain instead of running toward the bullets?

Five feet and eight inches: Slate Swartz’ height, and the height of the great Fausto Martense. The Kabal’s young leader did not even need to tilt his head as his fellow teenager approached. He simply stood precisely were he was.

>> ¨Should i feed from your flesh while my saliva chemically burn your skin, muscles and bones? ...Would you be able to heal faster than i could eat?

“Control,” Slate stated, once it seemed that Iron Mouth’s intimidations had paused for the moment. “It is both physical and mental. Is yours really so poor?”

>> ¨Tell me what you have in mind.¨

Now, Slate tilted his head; a bit to the side, in thought. “Your problem lies in your current need to bite an opponent, correct?” He mulled for a second more. “Spitting does not seem like the most accurate thing in the middle of a fight, either; and both of your attacks would be quite obvious before you launched them. Something that allows greater subtlety, control, and range is what you wish for—correct?”

His head tilted again, the other way. “Does glass negate your power, or does the saliva simply sit on top of the glass?”

Nothing was good enough for him , nothing. A range of emotions were deployed , but apparently the emotions were not what the boss was worry about . Hatred, jealousy, pride, loyalty, mercy or self control, very little of the last one but all signs of a raging heart . Anyway passion was labeled as weakness by Slate.

¨ Saliva remains in the glass for a limited time until it ¨eat ¨ itself trying to dissolve glass . ¨

To do anything was senseless , Slate would call him weak again and only would turn him more angry. Inaction was the best course of action.
Fausto just merely responded coolly to his question, ignoring everything else.

>> ¨Saliva remains in the glass for a limited time until it ¨eat ¨ itself trying to dissolve glass.¨

It seemed they were getting somewhere, now. At the least, Fausto was answering questions like a rational person, rather than a growling dog.

Slate’s head stayed tilted as he thought. The problem with Iron Mouth’s powers was that they could only be restrained by the teen’s mouth; outside that, much like his anger, the saliva was a threat to everyone and everything. It ate through them all. Except for glass: glass, apparently, gave them a small window of time in which the saliva was out of the young man’s mouth, but still potent.

Ah. Well, that was an idea.

Slate straightened back up, blinking at his fellow teenager. One question: a confirmation of something he recalled the teen ranting, earlier. “You are good with knife-fighting, yes?”

Two voices fought in his mind to take over the world ... to take over his body .
One said Be quiet while the other said Be quiet , dog. Just one word was added by the second voice but second phrase was loaded with much more meaning . Both were so different.
Be quiet ,dog. If you want to follow him as a little puppy instead of being a wolf
His pride wanted to bite him but all his other senses prevented him for doing it carried by such no sense.
It was suppose to be a rational talk after all .
Yes , sir . Would be a perfect answer for Slate but Fausto could not contain all his energy .
The knife was already in his hand swiftly slashed the air in front of Slate with great speed and precision while he demonstrated what he said ¨Yes , i am . Of course i am . My skills are only surpassed by my master.¨ One final thrust to the air and the invisible enemy disappear .

Slate did not know much about knife fighting. At all, really. The only time he could remember seeing a knife in action outside of a kitchen had been when one had stabbed Tarin. Also, himself. The blade had slipped under his ribcage with surprising ease: it had been well kept. Or had it been? Would a more honed blade have gone in even easier? Would he have felt more than a cool touch where hands should never go—would the pain have been almost an afterthought, starting only after the blade had been removed?

Or, if it had been dull. Rusty. What would that have felt...?

Suffice it to say that a slight trace of unease showed in Slate’s eyes. He did not know whether Iron Mouth’s movements were skilled or not. He did know, however, that the teenager’s knife was uncomfortably close. He decided that he did not like knives being so close.

>> ¨Yes , i am . Of course i am . My skills are only surpassed by my master.¨

The final thrust was not appreciated. The lowering of the knife was. Slate watched it for a moment more: then, with a force of will, he returned his thoughts to their former subject.

“...Have you considered making your weakness into a strength? If we put a glass coating on that blade, would it be able to carry your saliva on it for a time? If your saliva can indeed cut through anything besides glass—wouldn’t that give you a much stronger edge in a fight? You would have a knife that could cut through any armor.”

Armor-cutting or not, Slate would appreciate it if the knife were put away. He kept his eyes on his fellow teenager’s face: this seemed like a better place to look, than at the sharpened edge.

A weapon able to pierce through anything ...Iron Mouth was a weapon able to pierce anything , a weapon under the righteous orders of Slate . A weapon for a weapon ...
His lips curved in a wide open smile while he hide his knife from his sight . Was that thing in his eyes a subtly form of fear or concern ? Fausto grinned for that and continue with it while he exposed his interesting idea .
He never though about it but when Slate said it , it was imposible to ignore that new posibility . ¨Could you put glass on a knife and keep it still durable and sharp ? ¨ The idea was so simple and so useful ... ¨¨You are a genius , That way i could keep more distance than when i try to bite and is more easy to see a incoming counter attack , it even make more easy to use my mutation to damage some specific places without the repetite bite to the neck or arms .¨
Probably that was why Slate was the boss and not him . Slate though with his brain instead of his heart as Iron do .

Fausto smiled at him as he tucked away his knife. Widely. Slate decided, after a moment of thought, that this facial expression made him uneasy. His suggestion, however, seemed to go over well.

>> “Could you put glass on a knife and keep it still durable and sharp?”

Slate thought for a moment, then gave a tentative nod. “I imagine the edge can be kept sharp—glass certainly can be sharp, after all. As for durability... I imagine the blade will no longer be quite as good on its own, but with your saliva to help it cut, it will be far more effective than before. The metal inside should help to reinforce it... but I would still avoid dropping it, as much as you can. Also, hitting it with blunt objects.” He was under the impression that glass did not like that.

>> “You are a genius, that way I could keep more distance than when I try to bite and is more easy to see a incoming counter attack, it even make more easy to use my mutation to damage some specific places without the repeat bite to the neck or arms.”

It was nice that he wasn’t being threatened anymore. The praise on top of that was appreciated.

“I believe the scientists can have it ready within the next few days,” Slate stated. The corner of his mouth quirked into a small smile. “How would you like to field test it in Romania?”