Nathan sat carefully in the seat. He was wearing a t-shirt, a shirt and a hoodie with the hood up, 2 pairs of socks, leather shoes, and long tracksuit bottoms. None of his clothes had any metal at all. Finding trousers without a zipper or button was hard, but necessary. Sitting like a pile of laundry in all his rumpled clothes, Nathan looked at the baking hot day outside. It was 89 degrees and he was suffering. Beads of sweat ran down his brow that had nothing to do with the temperature, however. He was so covered in clothing because of this…curse. This terrible affliction that had struck him. Whenever his skin touched metal he…

Well, he didn’t want to talk about it, actually. The ‘fasten seat belts’ sign came on above him with a *ding* and the intercom crackled to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belts sign, we would ask you all to return to your seats. We will be landing at J. F. Kennedy International Airport in approximately fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes. Then he could be out of this metal hell hole. Metal seats, metal plane. Even the drinks trolley was metal. He’d practically fled up the aisle when the hostess came rolling it towards him. “Yeah, and go where, smart-guy?” his inner monologue berated him. “Well thought out plan, right there…” he taunted himself.

Bringing his attention back to the task at hand, he looked over at the seatbelt. A black strip of plastic holding a metal tongue. Gingerly, like someone diffusing a bomb, he reached over to pick up the seatbelt. The plane shook with turbulence and his gloved hand slipped into contact with the metal. He flinched…but nothing happened. His gloves were adequate protection for now, it seemed. Swiftly, he buckled himself in and prepared for landing.

The plane cruised to a stop on the runway and the intercom briefly buzzed across Nathan’s train of thoughts “…thank you for flying Virgin Airlines, we hope you had a pleasant trip and look forward to….” Before he tuned out again. The stewardesses had opened the doors and were smiling and showing people down the steps into the terminal itself. Nathan looked down the aisle and froze up for a second. Metal wristwatches, belt buckles, zippers, armrests, doors, steps, bag handles and buttons were everywhere he looked. Navigating this maze without touching any would be impossible. He would simply have to hope his ample clothing was sufficient to shield him.

He gingerly made his way without incident to the terminal exit, threading through the thronging mass of people with the poise of a ballerina. He approached the metal detectors and was asked to take his shoes off. He eyed the steel plate he would have to walk across with trepidation, but did as he was asked. “Have you got any metal objects on your person? Keys, watches, coins, jewellery.” Nathan shook his head with a slight smile and walked through. He felt the coldness through his socks, but nothing happened. He set off no alarms and he didn’t…change.

He put his shoes back on, the shredded leather where he’d torn out the metal loops for his shoelaces and his surplus of clothing when most people were wearing shorts and T-shirts caused more than a few odd looks, but Nathan didn’t care. It was less than he’d have got had his…problem occurred.

He had no luggage to speak of. He had $500 in notes, the clothes he was wearing and all the funny looks he could dodge. What else were his options, though? He was a… well, he was a freak, wasn’t he? He couldn’t live a normal life. Hell, he couldn’t walk down the STREET without dressing up like it was the arctic circle. He must look so odd. And why was he here anyway? Because his parents had disowned him after finding out he was mutated. Because it hurt too much to look at his friends and see the fear in their eyes. Because, frankly he had nowhere else to go.

So here he was. New York. Where apparently there were answers. He walked out of the airport and into the streaming daylight. He was sweltering and longed for nothing more than to take off his hoodie, but he daren’t. Exposed skin was a risk. Someone bumped into him, knocking him to the ground. “Hey, watch it, will ya, I’m walking here!” Came the cry of the angry New Yorker as he pushed past Nathan. Nathan picked himself to his feet. Great start.

Dejected and lost, the poor kid bowed his head and started walking downtown. He didn’t know where he was headed. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He was here and he was alone. So very very alone. The immensity of his situation sank in on him, and as he made his way around New York crossing streets at random, a salty tear rolled down his face, indistinguishable from the sweat.

Unable to take the heat any longer, he pulled his hood back and stared at the carefree populace, sinking against a wall for support. “Answers in New York. Go to New York. Sure. Great plan there.” his inner monologue tortured him. What was he going to do? He hurt more than he could possibly express. His world, his friends, his family were gone. He was a stranger in a strange land. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He didn’t know what was GOING to happen to him. He had only questions but no answers. Even here, in New York, was there anyone who could help?

Today was turning out to be a very bad day. Oh, it hadn't started out particular negative, in fact it hadn't started out particularly exceptional at all, but it was definately turning out that way. Meld had started her day in the same way that most of her days had started out over the course of the last few monthss, with an hour of meditation. The vampire Hunter, if nothing else, had introduced her to the concept of meditation in order to gain control of her addiction to killing and pain. It was, on some days, the only thing that prevented her from snapping and going on a murderous rampage. It couldn't take away the urge to kill, couldn't illiminate the addiction, but it could control it. Slowly, ever so slowly, it was becoming easier to resist her darker urges and all of that she owed to Hunter and to her continued vigilince in meditating.

After that and a quick meal in the Sanctuary kitchen, Meld had left the haven that was her home in order to do some much needed research. Normally she avoided going out during the day, being far too infamous and noticable and having acquired far too many enemies. For her current plans, however, going out during the day was essential. Her next flesh meld, this one her most ambitious yet, required a great deal of research and that required a trip to the library. She could only learn so much about the feasability of cyborg-like technology through the internet and now it was time to go out and learn a little more in depth and practical knowledge.

The trip the the library itself hadn't been any worse than expected. Of course Meld got people staring at her, as she did wherever she went, but she was used to that. It was the consequences of having metal limbs and being on the news as often as she had been. If she was any judge, however, the memories of the people were starting to fade, it having been several months since her last public appearance and if she had it her way it would be several months more before the next. Or, better yet, perhaps it was time to start avoiding a next all together. The research itself also had been moderately successfull, giving her a place to concentrate her efforts on the details of her project. It was upon leaving the library that things began going wrong.

meld didn't realize immideately that she was being followed, the knowledge came gradually. It was a glimpse of a dark clad figure here and then again several minutes later. At least 2 of them, possibly 3 and they were following her. She swore under her breath, not loud enough for anyone around her to hear. She couldn't go back to Sanctuary while her enemies were trailing her, that would never do, nor could she simply stop and try to confront them in the streets for two reasons. First, that would complety negate any progress she had made in her attempts to remain out of the public eye, and second they weren't staying still long enough for her to draw any of them out. Which meant she had to get somehwere private where she could deal with them.

Meld began walking swiftly towards a particular safe house she had used before, a werehouse both she and Aura frequented. There was no fear of an ally getting caught in the crossfire there and it was private enough that she could dispatch of her enemies outside of the public eye. Her tail swivelled behind her, blinking every few seconds to give her a view of what was going on around her from all angles. She caught a glimpse of one of the dark clad figures again and, unfortunately, lost him almost as quickly. She let out another curse, this one louder than the first. Unfortunately she wasn't paying nearly enough attention to what was going on in front of her, so preoccupied with her silent tails, that she ran right into a human male in her path.

It was probably his fault. Lost in his own thoughts, Nathan was oblivious to the world around him. Self-pitying and moping in a general malaise. Like almost everyone else his age across the entire planet. Unlike the vast majority, however, he had good reason to be. Anyway, these depressing mental pictures of his grim future, shunned by society, rendered outcast by an unwanted power…they’re probably the reason why he didn’t see the woman running full tilt down the street towards him. Why he was oblivious to the obvious threat, not just to his safety, but to his secrecy.

He noticed her just a fraction of a second too late and tried to get out of the way, but was perhaps thrown in his attempt by this woman’s bizarre appearance. She had an eye which was clearly mechanical and a metallic arm. An arm she was swinging to run with. An arm which, like the strike of a pendulum was swinging inexorably towards him.

Her entire body was heading for him but it was the arm that had him worried. And for good reason. He braced for impact (which involved shutting his eyes and wishing himself elsewhere) as he knew that he couldn’t dodge the collision in time (which was getting to be a pattern for him). The woman smashed into him like a runaway bull, clearly preoccupied with whatever she was running towards. That was the least of his problems.

Her (he now saw bladed) metal arm went into and through his three layers of clothes like they were so much tapioca. Punching in towards his skin with almost contemptuous ease. If it was any consolation, he told himself the instant before it happened, it was entirely accidental. The woman probably didn’t mean him any serious harm.

What happened next significantly complicated Nathan’s life and altered its path forever.

The instant the metal touched his skin, he felt a rippling sensation. He’d felt it before. Too many times before. His skin began to tingle and go numb. It was like the arm was a part of him and apart from him all at the same time. He felt hollow on the inside and then hollow on the outside as well. And then he felt nothing.

Current Avatar: Titanium Melting Point: 1668°C Weight: 766kg (rounded up)

The force of her impact would have been enough to send his normal body flying, but as Nathan opened his eyes he found himself stationary. The damage done to his shirts, already half ripped by the woman’s collision had been finished off by the transformation, and hung in shreds about his body. This, unfortunately revealed for all the world to see that his torso, arms and head (and indeed the rest of him) had been transformed into a shining metal personage.

He looked down at his arms. They were a bright, gleaming silver colour with a darker metallic sheen to them. His fingers moved like quicksilver as he flexed them. He was dismayed by his sudden change and so it was a few seconds before he was alert enough to react. He saw the crowds reactions and would have cried if capable. So this was New York, huh? “Sure, you’ll be accepted here. Great move, Nathan.” droned his inner monologue in it's sarcastic drawl. If it had a face, he would punch it. As soon as he regained focus, however, his thoughts went to the woman. She could sure charge through crowds, but she had just crashed into about a ton of (what looked like) solid Titanium. He looked around for her, to help her up if she had fallen. Hopefully he could fix the situation and maybe smooth things over with her before she called the police or something and had him deported.

”Hey, are you okay?”

There were many great advantages that Meld experienced because she was a mutant. Her flesh melds were stronger and faster than any mere human limbs, not to mention far more durable. She could climb walls with relative ease, see in the dark and even see behind her and that didnt' even begin to go over the fact that her flesh melds were far more deadly than simple human limbs, bladed as they were. That was not to say, however, that there were not also certain disadvantages, primary among them being the fact that it was impossible for her to hide what she was and also the fact that she had no sense of touch. It was the lack of a sense of touch that, in this particular instance, came around to rear its ugly head.

When physically touching fragile fleshy humans, Meld always had to be careful to ensure that she didn't accidentally exert too much pressure or cut them with her lethal claws or other blades. Unfortunately, when accidentally colliding with someone she wasn't exactly prepared to maintain that careful attention and, as a consequence, bladed sheild sliced through fabric as if it didn't even exist and bit into tender flesh. That's when things went from bad (because it could never be consider good to accidentally cut someone up) to bizarre. Instead of a scream of pain and drops of crimson falling from the stranger's flesh, his body began a baffling transformation into something that resembled a moving metallic statue whose features were exactly like the features of the tender human that had been standing there only a moment before.

Despite the stress and danger that Meld was currently under, she couldn't help but stare at the transformation, an approving smile upon her lips. It was, to her mind at least, ironic that of all the people she could bump into and accidentally cut, it would have to be a mutant and a mutant that didn't seem to even take any damage from her blades, no less! Had she herself been merely human the force of the collision might have sent her tumbling to the ground, but instead her bladed metal talloned feet dug into the ashfault of the ground, steadying her.

"Oh, I'm fine," Meld answered. Her tail eye continued to keep watch behind her, though she didn't currently see her trails. Hopefully they wouldn't think to attack until she was somewhere less public. Hopefully she could spare a few minutes to talk to a new mutant. She smiled encouragingly at the stranger. "I would ask the same of you, but you appear to have turned to titanium and I would know better than almost anyone how much it takes to harm the stuff." She lifted her metal arm by way of demonstration. It was, for many reasons, her primary material of choice when constructing her flesh melds.

The stares and mutterings of the crowd met nothing to Meld, less than nothing. Both of them, it seemed, were mutants and she knew how milling humans both feared and envied them their mutant heritage. How could they not? As long as the crowd stayed exactly where they were and didn't actually try anything, they were meaningless.

Nathan looked stunned. This woman was unlike anyone he’d ever met. For one thing he wasn’t sure she WAS a woman. She had a bladed metal arm a clearly bionic eye, a veined hand and…surely she didn’t have a tail? It blinked at him and he almost did a double take. Besides her appearance, which was shocking enough, the fact that she was still standing was remarkable. She clearly wasn’t human. He blinked a few times at her outré accoutrements, and then looked at the crowd again.

They were looking at the spectacle from all angles, a circlet of faces crowding around them. The expressions of the onlookers ranged from excitement, at the prospect of action, fear at the appearance of the two freaks in their midst, horror at the sudden transformation of Nathan, and anger at the two mutants displaying their powers. As for him, well Nathan still couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d been in New York less than an hour and he was already revealed as…being what he was.

And screw ‘fitting in’. The faces of the crowd told him everything he needed to know about the attitudes of people in New York. They might be used to mutants here, but they didn’t like them. Not one person seemed -.

That wasn’t quite right though was it?

>>> “Oh I’m fine. I would ask the same of you, but you appear to have turned to titanium and I would know better than almost anyone how much it takes to harm the stuff.”

How could she be so calm? Why wasn’t she screaming in fear or freaking out, lashing out at him and raging in terror. As if by way of demonstration, she lifted her metallic arm. Things started to click for him. She was like him. That was why she was taking this in stride. She was…one of them. Freaks. Mutants. God’s mistakes. And she didn’t hate him.

On the contrary, she seemed almost amused by his body. “You’re…like me?” he asked, incredulous, though the truth was obvious. The crowd was beginning to make him uncomfortable and he longed to be elsewhere. Shouts from the distance brought a more pertinent question to his mind and he tried to ask it through the daze. “Better question, why were you running?” It was possible that she was suffering the same sort of persecution that he had back in England, and he was worried lest he suffer the same fate.

Already the crowd was beginning to turn, the looks of excitement dimming into snarls of contempt as it became clear there was no real street theatre taking place. He didn’t know his way around the city, and had no real idea what to do. His heart started to race. He was looking a little lost. Everything was moving so fast. This had to be some kind of a dream. How could things have gone so wrong, so quickly? And yet…what if this was providence? Here, having literally bumped into him and triggered his power was the genuine article. She had to be. What were the chances? What were the odds? Him, out of the million people in NYC. Him, with his mutation, and her with her titanium arm. It’s almost as if it had been planned.

Judging by the way the metal man was reacting to herself and the entire situation, Meld came to the immediate conclusion that he was a newly discovered mutant. She remembered when she had first discovered her powers, her hand having been severed by a thief and worse and her instincts taking over allowing herself to attach an art project to her wrist. True the stranger hadn't lost any limbs (that she could see anyway) but it was still a shock to discover you were a mutant. A shock that almost every mutant she knew had to go through at one point in their life or another and one that shouldn't have to be gone through alone.

"I am like you," Meld agreed, trying her best to be encouraging. "You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, you should be proud of the fact that you're a mutant. It makes you something special, something exceptional." It made him better than all the humans around him, but she knew that sort of speech could sometimes turn a person off from her. Despite the truth of the matter, some people had an odd sense that everyone must be equal in different ways or some such nonsense. It simply wasn't true. Mutants, as a whole, were superior to humans. Simple as that, cut and dry reality. But she didn't say any of those things, it was enough that he shouldn't feel ashamed of what he was. Anything else was secondary and would either come or not, however his life unfolded.

When asked why she was running, Meld's attention returned to the crowd and to scanning outside the crowed for her silent and almost invisible enemies. "We should walk," she suggested, gesturing forward. The crowd parted before her, one of the advantages of being both feared and covered in lethal looking blades. It had been a very long time since she had to deal with trials of a crowd of people. People saw her and people moved. Probably because they knew she could cut down any one of them where they stood, if she chose to.

"I was running because I was being followed." Meld cursed silently under her breath, unable to catch another glimpse of her enemies. "I'm not exactly well liked in some circles, in fact you might even say I've gotten myself a few enemies. Enemies that have decided that stalking me like I'm a rabbit for their stew is a good idea." Normally she would have offered to take the boy back to Sanctuary with her, but she couldn't go back there until she had dealt with the issue of her nameless hunters. "I don't think they'll actually do anything while I'm out in public, especially not now that I'm standing her with another mutant." Although she'd been attacked in public before, or at least in the semi-public of a movie theater. That had not been a pleasant experience and a mutant had almost died because her enemies didn't care about sacrificing innocents in the crossfire.

"Do you have a place to stay? Do your parents know what you are?" It was a good place to start. With that information Meld would know just how much help the boy needed. Of course she would be willing to do whatever she could because he was a mutant and that was her duty to all mutant kind.

>>> "I am like you, you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, you should be proud of the fact that you're a mutant. It makes you something special, something exceptional."

Wow. This was so surreal. Here he was, filling himself with self-loathing and hatred, beating himself up about his mutation when there was an entire city willing to do that for him, and someone comes out with something like that. He didn’t know WHAT to think now. Was this lady crazy? He’d taken all sorts of abuse back in England, been mocked and hurt by his friends, threatened and laughed at by the public and eventually disowned and thrown out onto the streets by his parents.

He’d felt almost every emotion he thought it was possible to feel about his…issues. None of them positive. It just didn’t seem feasible. Pride? He should be proud to be a freak? “Not a freak, idiot. Listen to the woman. Special. Something exceptional.” Was it possible? Could his mutation be viewed as anything other than a curse? He had no idea, but this woman was the only person he’d ever met who hadn’t freaked at the sight of him.

>>> “We should walk” she said.

“Hell yes we should.” his mind yelled. “Buddy, this woman might be the ONE person who has answers for you. You just gotta go with her.” Obnoxious as his inner monologue could be, it had a point. If he was to discover more about himself, find the answers he needed, stop having to dress like an Eskimo and tiptoe around the nails in floorboards, he had to start somewhere. He’d come to New York to try and find answers, help, maybe a cure, and this…amazing woman had fallen right into his lap. Godsend.

He fell into step beside her, barely noticing the crowd parting like the red sea to allow them unimpeded progress. Bizarrely, he didn’t find the woman’s appearance intimidating. Why should he judge when…well, just look at him! Six foot of solid titanium does not just walk down the street. Of course, there’s an exception to every rule. This one is him. He barely noticed the fearful presence of the crowd at all now, and was utterly enraptured with his new companion. “like you…” the words seemed to echo through his mind.

He wasn’t alone! Of course, he’d heard it on the news, and the radio, and occasional amateur TV footage – it’s why he was here, but, he’d never dreamed that he would meet another. And so soon! A strange and unfamiliar emotion surfaced. Almost painful, in its awkwardness. For a second his body struggled to identify it. Happiness. He was made of titanium, shaking the paving slabs of the New York sidewalk as he strolled down the street, next to a bionic woman…and he was happy.

>>> "I was running because I was being followed. I'm not exactly well liked in some circles, in fact you might even say I've gotten myself a few enemies. Enemies that have decided that stalking me like I'm a rabbit for their stew is a good idea."

“What? That’s awful!” Nathan’s little bubble of happiness lasted about as long as a snowflake in hell. “Who are these guys, and why do they want to hurt you!” he demanded, turning to look back the way they’d come, trying to see her mysterious would-be assailants. “Are you in danger?” he asked, horrified as the thought struck him; that he might be placing this woman’s life at risk for his own selfish agenda. Why should he be the only one who got to have problems?

>>>"I don't think they'll actually do anything while I'm out in public, especially not now that I'm standing her with another mutant."

There it was again. “With another mutant”. She could so casually bandy the term around. She didn’t hide from herself or the public, apparently. Nathan envied her that. Looking down at his own titanium form, he clenched his fists. Of course, it was obvious to everyone that he was a mutant. He’d read that some mutants had it easy. They could fit in with the public. But no, not him. And not this woman, either. He hadn’t asked for this, though. She had accepted herself, clearly. He wasn’t ready to do that. So far the sum total of all the people that hadn’t freaked out when they had discovered his mutation could be counted on one hand. Without taking his mittens off. Hell, he’d freaked out. Her calmness infuriated him. She acted like this was just a normal day for her. Didn’t she care? How could this not be a big deal!

>>>“Do you have a place to stay? Do your parents know what you are?"

That question hit him hard. No, of course he didn’t have a place to stay. That required organisation and forethought. Did his parents know what he was? Oh they knew… But wait. Was this chick offering him a place to stay? She’d go that far? For a total stranger? Under normal circumstances (strange woman offers young boy a bed) he’d have bolted, but these were far from normal circumstances.

“…actually no.” Nathan replied, almost thankful for his metallic hue hiding what he was certain would have been a blush. “And then yes. They…well, they…they threw me out. They said they never wanted to see me again... they called me... they said...” Nathan stopped. His voice was shaking. His steel hands were rock solid and he stood tall in his form, and was certain that were he his normal self he would be crying on the floor right now. This was too painful a wound to go over. Too fresh. He steadied himself for a few brief seconds and then continued. “That’s sort of why I’m here. Guess they really know how to bring out the welcome wagon here in NY…” this last was directed to the hateful populace he observed behind him.

He looked at the woman, knowing that this was sink or swim. He’d never asked of anyone as much as he was about to ask of her, and he could hardly find the words to ask. His eyes met hers and he dredged himself for the courage for what he was about to say, before finally managing a weak “Help me…please…”

It was rare that Meld got the opportunity to help a mutant in a pure sense, one that didn't involve the downfall of any humans. The opportunity was one that she treasured and it was just a shame that her tails had to exist in order to ruin the moment. She had to deal with them, one way or another, and that meant she had to lure them into the open. The only way to do that, most likely, was to enter an unpopulated area where they believed themselves to have the advantage. The one thing she didn't want to do, however, was to bring this innocent into the crossfire.

"I don't know who they guys are," Meld answered, her voice calm and businesslike. There was no reason to panic nor any reason to cause others to panic. It was all part of the life she lead and the risks she sometimes had to talk. Even before she had become a champion for mutant rights she deeply involved with organized crime and this wasn't the first time someone had sent thugs out to kill her nor was it likely to be the last time. For that matter, she didn't even know if they technically did want to kill her. It was always possible they wanted to converse with her or perhaps make a business arrangement but for whatever reason didn't want to make such an arrangement public. It wouldn't be the first time for that either, although it was always more prudent to prepare for the worst.

"They've been trailing me for the past hour. Two, maybe three of them. I suspect them to be assassins of some sort intent upon my untimely demise and just waiting for the right moment to strike." Meld frowned, considering her options. Something told her she wasn't about to lose them, not in daylight anyway. One she could lose with relative ease, even in full light, two might be a challenge but if there were, as she suspected, three tails then it was a lost cause, at least until night fall. While she was competent when it came to games of stealth, she was no master by any means, her real talents lay elsewhere.

Meld began leading the two of them to some of the darker and shadier areas of the city, closer to her warehouse safe house. "I'm sorry to hear about your parents. My parents...well, I didn't give them the opportunity to kick me out but that's exactly what they would have done had I stuck around. They weren't what you'd consider to be fond of mutants." She let the emotion of the statement enter her voice, just enough to show that her words and the feelings behind them were real. While she had gotten over her past and had even successfully confronted and disowned her mutant hating parents, it was still a difficult subject. It would probably always be a difficult subject.

"I'm here to help," Meld replied kindly. Her tail swished to the left and blinked as she caught another glimpse of her stalkers. Damn them anyway. "There's a place I live that helps mutants. Its called Sanctuary and it takes on all mutants, including myself. If you need a place to stay, that's the best place I can suggest. You have a choice to make now. If you stay with me you may be put in danger, although I'm not sure how much damage you can actually expect to take with your body as it is." She couldn't prevent the slight admiring smile as she said those words, glancing down at his shining metal form. It wasn't the first time she wished herself able to become completely titanium, not that she had any issues with her power as it was. "I can't return to Sanctuary with my stalkers still on my tail for fear of putting the others at risk. If you choose to leave I won't blame you and I'll give you the address so you can find it yourself. If you stick around you may have to duck if things go bad, but once I've dealt with the situation I can take you back there in person."

Sanctuary. The word itself sounded soft, golden and inviting. A castle made of clouds that he could retreat behind and lick the wounds of recent weeks. A place of safety and shelter specifically for mutants. It takes all mutants. It could help him… He was so lost in this all encompassing thought-blanket that he zoned out for the next few sentences and had to play them over again in his mind, to make sure he understood them.

His companion was going to try and deal with the assailants. Brave of her. Nathan therefore had to make a choice. Take the address, leave in safety for the Sanctuary and avoid the fight, or stay and place himself in danger. Let’s put that another way. He could walk the streets of New York alone as a shining titanium man, attracting abuse and resentment for who and what he was from any and everyone, leaving the one person who had ever accepted him in serious peril...or he could stay and try to repay the huge favour she was prepared to do for him. Tough call.

“You’re kidding, right?” Nathan asked her. “No way am I leaving you to fight three guys alone! We’ll see them off and then we’ll go to this ‘sanctuary’ together. Deal?” he asked, his words sounding a lot braver leaving his lips than he felt they had any right to. He’d never been in a fight. Not one where he’d done any actual fighting. Back in England, his body had ended up breaking the wrist of a kid who’d tried to punch him in the face. Was it his fault he was made of Copper at the time? Of course, the kid’s parents had been really understanding…

This was different though. For the first time in his life, Nathan was actively heading into a fight. What was he thinking? He didn’t know how to fight! If he had been capable of breath, he would have taken some to steady himself. As it was, he simply punched his palm and hoped that he didn’t let on how scared he was. This calm, composed woman clearly new how to handle herself. Her every word dripped with honeyed calm and surety in her footsteps. All he had to do was have her back, right?

Meld couldn't exactly say that she was grateful for the new mutant's help, but she was thankful to have it. Or at least, she was thankful so long as her enemies didn't try and do something creative like have weapons specifically designed to take out her titanium flesh melds. That could be a particularly bad turn of events, though she doubted her enemies were smart enough to think of such a thing. Unless they, for some reason, happened to be mutants themselves in which case she might be in some serious trouble. The only thing to be done, however, was to wait and see. Until they revealed themselves there wasn't anything she could do beyond speculate.

"I appreciate the assistance," Meld answered. She extended her titanium hand for shaking, not entirely sure if the metal man would be willing to shake it given the fact that he seemed uncomfortable with his current mutant nature and she had, in a way, been responsible for his transformation. At least, that's what she assumed anyway since he had transformed only after her metal meld had touched his skin. "The name's Meld."

"I expect my stalkers to be individuals with a problem with some of my activities against anti-mutant organizations." It seemed prudent to Meld to explain the background of the situation. She didn't want to have to protect an innocent and have the mutant with her become a liability rather than a boon in her favour and explaining the details reduced the chances of that happening. "I expect them to be armed with guns, the usual human weapon of choice. The fact that they are stalking so effectively, however, means that they are likely more than just common thugs. They've been sent against me specifically and they are probably aware of most of my strengths and weaknesses. Your presence, however, is likely to throw a serious wrench in their game plan." Being experienced in similar illicit activities herself, Meld knew what it felt like to have plans to awry and it wasn't a pleasant feeling at all.

The remainder of the trip to the warehouse was both uneventful and relatively short. Meld slowed her pace as the two of them approached, wanting to give her mutant ally time to ask any questions or make any plans before they actually entered the building. She knew that as soon as they entered that's when her stalkers would come out of the shadows and confront her directly. Until then they would remain safe, even in the current neighborhood which couldn't exactly be considered a good neighborhood. After that point, however, all bets were off.

>>> “I appreciate the assistance, the name’s Meld”

Nathan did not hesitate at the titanium arm. What right had he to do so? He shook her hand warmly, the clink of metal on metal drummed out as his fingers wrapped around hers in greeting. “I’m Nathan. Very pleased to meet you, Meld” he replied, the image of charm. He wondered silently what kind of a name Meld was, but then to each his own. Possibly it was an adopted moniker to do with her bionic implants. In any event, his heart was racing, but he was in for the long game now. He had, somewhat foolishly, agreed to help her out. He couldn’t back out now.

Wow. Bad guys armed with guns? And wait…illicit activities? Just what exactly was this Meld person involved in? It didn’t surprise him that there were anti-mutant organisations. What did that make Meld then? Anti-anti-mutant? He shook his head. None of that mattered right now. What was important was the bunch of guys that he was now set up to fight. At least three and possibly more. It was beyond him why ANYONE would want to fight someone as patently nice as Meld. Clearly these were bad dudes. Really bad dudes.

“So what’s the gameplan?” he asked, wisely bowing to her obvious combat experience. He had no real idea what to do in these situations, so he followed her through the backstreets to a warehouse district. The kind of area he’d normally shy from, but which he assumed must be the common locale for his kind of people. Out of the way. Not in the face of the public. It was incredible how much your perspective could change if you’d only open your eyes and think about it. And have all your ties to your old life forcibly severed by backstabbing ‘friends’. That helped.

“I don’t know if I’ll be much help, but I won’t let them hurt you.” he promised, wondering precisely how he was going to achieve that. “Is this the place?” He asked, pointing at the warehouse. He had thought he’d seen some shadowy figures following them, but that could easily be paranoia and his overactive imagination settling in to scare him. Finally he came out with the most pertinent question to ask a commander in an an unfamiliar combat situation: “What do you want me to do?”

Meld nodded curtly at Nathan, acknowledging his name and introduction. Hopefully they would be able to dispatch of her assailants quickly and easily and once the risk was dealt with then there would be more time to be social. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy casual social interactions, because she did although not many people were willing to deal with her on that level, it was simply that there were often more pressing matters. Such as people trying to kill her, something she never took kindly to.

"The gameplan is we enter the warehouse in front of me and hide behind one of the crates," Meld answered. "I'm hoping that'll lure my stalkers inside at which time we can dispatch them, preferably one by one. Are you fully made of metal or is that just a metal shell?" Because if he was full metal he could probably take a bullet or two, but even a titanium shell might not be enough to stop bullets, depending on how thick it was. Her shield arm had been designed to be able to withstand bullets, but the metal the shield was made out of was thick, very thick. In fact, if she didn't have enhanced strength in her flesh melds she might have had difficulty moving it as quickly and dexterously as she was able to.

"As long as we can prevent all three enemies from surrounding us, I can take them out. If I see it coming I can take a bullet and a lot more besides, but my human parts are just as vulnerable as any other human body. All I need you to do is distract them long enough and I can take care of the rest." Meld hated to suggest that another mutant be the distraction, but in her defense he was made of metal so she couldn't think of another distraction that had less chance of actually being hurt by the role. With someone as young and green as he was, however, she it would be up to her to actually deal with her enemies directly.

Once Meld had explained the game plan in brief, she entered the warehouse, holding the door open for Nathan to follow her inside. She flicked on a dim light in the middle of the room, displaying a dirty room with large wooden crates scattered throughout. In the corner was a table with a couple of chairs that she and Aura had used in the past as well as an old mattress and blanket. In another corner were a few of Aura's art projects, half finished furniture carved out of human bones. She completely ignored the art projects, hoping that Nathan didn't look too closely at them either. She might be used to her friend's rather morbid hobby, but most others were not and that was one thing that could definitely turn away a needy mutant. She gestured towards one of the creates near a wall (one on the opposite side of the room from the art projects) and went to hide behind on herself, waiting for her enemies to enter behind her. Only her tail peeked up above the edge of the create she was hiding behind, its ruby red eye trained at the door.

>>> “Are you fully made of metal or is that just a metal shell?”

Nathan paused at the question. He’d never really thought about it before. Strange. All he knew was that he was different, a…mutant. Hmm. Odd. Before, he’d have used the word ‘freak’. Whoever this ‘Meld’ was, she was having a profound effect on him. Regardless, all he knew that he was hated and feared for this shiny body of his that appeared at the touch of any metal. He’d viewed it as a curse and tried to avoid it at all costs. He’d never thought about experimenting with it. The truth was that he didn’t know, and that scared him a little. What else didn’t he know about himself?

“ I, uh…don’t know actually. I’ve not really, I mean…” Nathan trailed off as he absent-mindedly drummed his titanium fingers against the back of his head. He was getting distracted, so he shook himself back into focus. There were going to be bad dudes with guns arriving to try and take out him and Meld any second now. It was like something out of an action movie, but he was no Bruce Willis. He had to just try to keep up, and pray that he wasn’t so out of his depth that he’d drown.

“Anyway, that sounds like a plan.” Nathan said, putting on a confident expression as Meld let him into the warehouse. She held the door open and he strode in, shadowing the doorway and walking across a stream of light, dust motes spiralling at his footfall. It was darker inside, the colours appearing somehow subdued. He got the feeling that this wasn’t a happy place. She took the lead and led him quickly across the warehouse, her composed attitude and professional bearing betraying her experience.

The room was drab and dirty, wooden crates lying in an apparently haphazard pattern, but he didn’t pay too much attention to the décor. He doubted it was important, which in later years he would come to look back on as an amateur mistake. Taking the bone-constructed furniture in the corner as theatrical props, it never even occurred to Nathan that they might be made from real human bones. Meld had pointed out a locale for him to hide, so he hurried, barely noticing the impact he was having on the floor of the warehouse. He crouched down behind the crate, and leaned on it to look over. The wood began to splinter and buckle, so he swiftly drew his arms back, slightly surprised at the newly warped crate. Clearly his body did more for him than just make him an outcast. But how much more?

He watched the entrance as Meld positioned herself behind another crate, and determined not to let her down. She was relying on him. He had to keep them occupied while she dispatched them. He had no idea how he was supposed to do that, but he was banking on something coming to him in the heat of the moment. Whatever happened, he was not to let them get surrounded. His eyes flicked towards the back of the warehouse, but saw no door there. “C’mon Nathan, think positive. Three men enter, two mutants leave. Just like thunderdome. But didn’t people die in that?” his conscience did an awful job of consoling him. Nathan resolved to do something about his inner monologue, he gave it far too much free reign. And another thing-.

His train of thought was disturbed by shadows crossing the threshold of the door. It was a single silhouetted figure who was clearly holding a gun of some description. The man whirled around the door, gun up and ready, scanning the warehouse as two further figures appeared over his shoulder, both also holding guns. The lead figure, stepped forwards, motioning with one hand for the other two to enter behind him, clearly indicating for them to go searching off to the left and right, while he took the middle. The three of them began to fan out into the warehouse.

Over on the left hand side, he could see one of them only about 10 feet away from Meld’s location as the other two tipped over crates and looked carefully. They were going to get to her soon and then, and then…Nathan remembered vaguely some sort of plan but these were DANGEROUS guys! With GUNS! And y’know, those long things on the end to keep the noise down, whatever they were called. Silencers. That was it. They carried silencers! These guys weren’t trying to ask questions, they were here to kill Meld! And they were about to!

“Hey!” Nathan shouted, standing up with a surge, accidentally backhanding the crate he was kneeling down by as he did, sending it flying the full extent of the warehouse. It hit the wall and, half gone with the impact of his arm, shattered into splinters. Nathan was partly struck dumb by this unexplainable strength he seemed to posess, and partly by the sheer idiocy of his action which was just now catching up to him. His sudden emergence had had the only reasonable effect it was going to: All three men whirled to face him, and guns already drawn, they fired.

At leas the young mutant Meld had found was putting on a show of confidence even if she was able to see behind that show. She really didn't want to get him involved, not at all. This was her fight and it was her own actions that had attracted her enemies to her, but she had given him the option to flee the battle and had chosen to stay. She fully intended to dispatch her enemies and protect the man as best she could and then bring him back safely to Sanctuary. It was her duty to do so and she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she failed in that duty.

Meld settled herself to wait behind one of the crates, muscles tense and preparing to act at a moment's notice. She didn't have to wait long to catch a glimpse of her enemies, three figures garbed in what appeared to be dark military gear, which seemed to be complete with body armour. It was difficult to tell exact colours when peering through her tail eye whose ruby composition turned everything red.

As her enemies fanned out to try and find Meld and Nathan, because she was certain they must have seen her enter with the gleaming metal mutant, she crouched and waited for her opportunity. Waiting was a game she knew how to play and knew how to play well, she wasn't the type to simply rush in guns blazing. Sure her mutation helped make her a truly deadly combatant, but she was still vulnerable enough that she worked at her best when she was able to pick her spots and her opportunities. All she had to do now was wait for an enemy to come close enough to strike at and, with a little luck, she'd be able to dispatch him or her without the others even realizing what had happened. Because her enemies were completely covered from head to tow, including masks, it was impossible to tell whether they were male or female.

Just as Meld's first soon to be victim was getting close enough for her to strike, metal man jumped out from behind his crate, yelling. He may as well have been waving his hands and shouting 'shoot me shoot me' and all three veiled heads turned to face him. With a curse under her breath, Meld acted. Jumping out from behind her crate, her tail whipped out, wrapping itself around the next of her nearest foe. She squeezed, cutting off the figure's airflow and all he could do was gasp an struggle. His weapon clattered to the floor. Normally she would have just slashed his throat with one of her many blades, but given the young mutant before her and given the fact that she didn't want to scare him away, she was intent on dispatching her enemies in a slightly less lethal manner. Hopefully she wouldn't come to regret the decision.

*thwap thwap thwap* went the guns, silenced by the added muzzle.

Nathan flinched. It was all he had time to do. His chest was suddenly really itchy. Maybe it knew he was going to get shot. He’d never been shot, but he’d heard that right before you died your whole life flashed before your eyes?
*thwap thwap*

Maybe that’d happen to him. Now his face was itching. He could HEAR the gunshots, echoing in the warehouse despite the suppressors. Didn’t bullets travel faster than sound? He was sure he’d read that somewhere. And hang on, this was a really long train of thought. How was it possible to still be thinking about this?
*thwap*

Tentatively, he opened his eyes. There were 2 assailants that he could see, clad head-to-toe in black military body armour. The central, and lead figure had stopped firing, Nathan thought he might be conserving bullets, but the one to his immediate right was still going, squeezing the trigger again and again. *thwap thwap* Nathan saw the dimmed muzzle flash, and the man’s gun twitching upwards ever so slightly with each shot fired. So why was he still standing? Either this guy was a truly lousy shot, and needed to find a new line of work fast, or…

Nathan looked down at his torso. There was a *zing* as a bullet hit him square in the chest, and pinged off, hitting a nearby crate. He felt the tickling itch in the exact place it had struck him. Nathan looked around and saw the crumpled noses of several bullets having met a similar fate. The sound of muffled gunshots turned into clicks that somehow rang louder in the warehouse than the gunfire. And Nathan was still standing. He looked down and saw that his smooth, unbroken titanium skin was unblemished by the gunshots.

The…assassin for want of a better term, having run out of bullets, withdrew a wicked looking combat knife from a boot sheathe and began advancing towards Nathan. Nathan hoped Meld was dealing with the other two, which he’d lost sight of, because he had his hands full right here. Nathan began to back away from the man with the knife. His mind was telling him: if bullets didn’t hurt him, the knife wasn’t going to hurt him. His skin simply asked: You really want to find out?

Suddenly the warehouse seemed a lot smaller. Nathan heard a dull clang and realised there was a wall against his back. The assassin seemed sure of himself. Dangerous. He hadn’t appeared fazed by Nathan’s apparent imperviousness to bullets. His combat fatigues were a dark grey, mottled with black. Urban camo. His body armour was black Kevlar, but dinged with streaks of grey, dented and chipped. It wasn’t there for decoration, this guy had seen some serious action. His mask was a customised faceplate, with a red fist motif stencilled in and a score of notches on the other side. Sixteen notches, if Nathan had had time to count them (which he didn’t). Later, he’d realise their significance.

He held his knife backhanded. Navy-seal style. His movements were lithe and agile, where Nathan’s seemed clunky and awkward. He closed the distance between them at a run whilst still managing to appear to be taking Nathan’s every action into consideration. Nathan was hopelessly outclassed here, and boy did he know it. Well, he’d taken one of their attentions away from Meld. He hoped she’d be okay. Hell, he hoped HE’D be okay…