Playing with Fire

Yes, the mind boggles, there has been less than a month between chapters. Armageddon must be upon us. Anyway, don't get your hopes up for the future, I'm still glacially slow, this is just a really short chapter - for me anyway. Although I do have the next one about 70% done, so who knows?

Again, thanks to my beta - Sue Penkivech. She makes this much more readable I assure you.

HUGE thanks also to all the wonderful people who review. I REALLY appreciate the time you take to give me feedback and it's wonderful to know people are enjoying this and that it's not just mental masturbation (pardon my French).

I hope no one's too disappointed that I don't acknowledge reviewers individually here. I'm just not that organized. If you leave me an e-mail with your review I am more than happy to respond to you that way if you'd like. It's much easier for me to deal with reviews as they come in that way. Anyway, hope you enjoy - things are starting to heat up, in soooo many ways.

A SECRET REVEALED

Jason Newcombe was bored. Very, very bored. He shifted irritably, rearranging his air rifle between his knees before checking his watch - 5:45. At least his relief should be here any minute for the six o'clock shift change. With a sigh he went back to scanning his assigned section of woodland. As he'd done six out of seven days or nights for almost three months now and shit he was sick of it.

All because of that fucking blue freak of nature. And in all that time he'd only laid eyes on it once - at a distance. Two weeks ago it had come pelting through the woods in the middle of the night like some hellish cross between a cat and a monkey. Back-up had been called in all along the perimeter that night and he'd been dragged out of his bed in the middle of the night. All for nothing though - like usual. In the end it had simply disappeared back into the woods too far from the perimeter to be monitored. On the way back to the apartment complex that served as his 'barracks' he'd been irrationally glad that they'd never gotten a shot at the thing. After watching the creature move, the only thing he'd been really sure of was that he *never* wanted to come within touching distance of it under any circumstances.

The faint sound of footsteps in the woods behind him told Newcombe that he was almost off the hook for one more day. Williams could park his ass and spend a cold, fruitless night watching for any sign of the beast - _he_ was going to make his report and then have a long, hot shower before bed.

As he started packing up his equipment he wondered, not for the first time, just how Mrs. Newcombe's little boy had ended up in this line of work. The pay was decent, but the hours and working conditions sucked ass. It had seemed like such a good and noble idea when he'd been given the 'opportunity' to join the Organization after boot camp. Keep the world safe from those filthy freaks of nature and help America stay strong and powerful. Help his country assume its *rightful* place in the world. Sounded real pretty on paper. Now? Now it was long hours of boredom punctuated by brief periods of stark terror. He shuddered as the memory rose, unbidden, of staring into the Wolverine's cold eyes in the forest outside of that pissant German town - Winzeldorf. Didn't matter what he thought at this point anyway. This job was for life, just like its predecessor Weapon X before it had been disbanded and forced underground. The only way out of this outfit was in a box.

"Hey Jason." Williams' quiet hail jolted him out of his thoughts and he rose stiffly to his feet.

"Robbie," he grunted in response before noticing the odd, eager look on the boy's face.

"Don't bother packin' up," he was told in an excited whisper. "Sergeant Masters saw the freak heading into the woods this afternoon and it hasn't come out yet. We might get a shot at it!"

From the jaded vantage point of his 23 years, Jason Newcombe repressed a grimace of disgust at the misplaced enthusiasm of youth. Damn nineteen year old. Fresh out of Basic and new to the Organization. Hadn't even seen a mutie close up in the wild before. Just video footage and the collared, broken ones that were used for training. Robbie Williams had sure as hell never looked the Wolverine in the eye! As this ran through his head, Newcombe conveniently glossed over the memory of promptly pissing his pants and dropping in a dead faint the second after he met the crazed killer's murderous glare - hard as it was to forget since that little 'failing' was the primary reason he'd been stuck here, in one of the most godforsaken posts on the perimeter, for the past three months.

"And we might not," he finally grunted indifferently. _Least, I sure as hell hope not._ "Why'n hell wasn't I notified earlier if it's out there?"

"Sarge said Lieutenant Myers didn't want all the sentries gettin' all keyed up if it might never actually show. Only notified post eighteen 'cause that's the direction it was heading and then waited to see if it actually showed up. Just as relief was gettin' sent out, Eighteen reported sighting it heading this way within ten meters of the perimeter. All relief in Eighteen through Twenty-two was ordered to establish a double watch until further notice."

Newcombe resisted the urge to curse. Lack of enthusiasm for one's work could be considered a...disciplinary...issue, and Williams was just the sort of over-eager newbie who'd mention something like that. He'd had a taste of _discipline_, thanks, and he didn't feel any particular need to revisit the experience.

Instead, he sat back down and then shifted over, making room for the kid on the log next to him before turning his attention back to the woods beyond the chain link fence.

_Bit diff'rent from that great big wall and the fancy wrought-iron gate they've got for display out front._

"Best pay attention then," he finally muttered. "Wouldn't want to miss the freak if it comes by."

There were a few awkward moments of jockeying for position as Williams settled in and arranged his equipment. Then they both began to scan the empty woods, searching for any sign of life or movement that wasn't a squirrel or a bird. It hadn't been more than five minutes when Newcombe heard the faint crackle that told him a message was coming in. He pressed a hand to the tiny comm unit in his ear, noticing Williams mirroring his movement as he did so, and concentrated on splitting his attention between the incoming message and his continued surveillance of the surrounding woods.

"...target sighting confirmed 17:58 hours by Post Nineteen. Headsoutsouth within ten meters of perimeter in company of Specimen Four. Posts Nineteen through Twenty-two high alert..."

As the transmission ended he glanced over and briefly met Williams' excited gaze.

"Well shit," the boy mumbled, blue eyes wide and one hand running nervously across the blond stubble on his scalp. "Looks like we're next." The kid's grin was more than a little wild as he hit the confirm button on his comm link before adjusting his rifle and raising his binoculars to peer eagerly out into the woods again.

Jason Newcombe settled for a non-committal grunt in response as he too resumed his examination of their assigned sector - all the while fervently hoping that if the thing showed up it would bloody well keep moving.

Two minutes later he froze, watching in horror as a teenage girl appeared, running full-tilt _through_ the trunk of a slender birch. He immediately recognized Specimen Four both by her physical appearance and her powers and shuddered. That was so fucking _wrong_. Not as bad as the blue freak they were after, but still _so_ wrong. He understood they could be useful to the Organization and the Cause, but it still made his skin crawl to think of people - real human beings - actually interacting with the things.

He nudged Williams gently and jerked his head in the...girl's...direction. He never took his eyes off her as she trotted through the trees - sometimes literally - casting frequent glances over her shoulder as she went. He heard Williams fumbling with his comm unit and then the soft sound of his voice as he sent the message confirming visual contact with the Specimen, but he never shifted his gaze from alternately tracking the mutie and checking her back-trail for signs of the freak.

She came to an abrupt halt about three meters from the perimeter and leaned against a tree, panting for breath. Since she showed no sign of moving any time soon Newcombe focused most of his attention on her back-trail, almost missing it when the freak dropped right out of the tree above her.

"Shit! Didn't even know it was fuckin' there," Williams breathed in awe. The kid immediately began fumbling with his comm, obviously not wanting to waste any time claiming the honor of spotting their target but consequently missing the thing's next move. Newcombe had to stifle the urge to gag as it grabbed the mutie girl and started...making out with her. Worse yet, she seemed to be _enjoying_ it. Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker![1] She might be a mutie, but she at least _looked_ human. How in heouldould she let that...thing...touch her?

He could tell from the startled gasp that Williams had finished his report and turned his attention back to the pair. He grimaced in disgust that the kid was seeing something this - sick - and it only got worse from there. It didn't take long to figure out that the freaks had every intention of fucking right there in the open and his cheeks flushed with the realization that they might as well have a front row seat for the action. The woods weren't particularly thick here and they had the best surveillance equipment money could buy. Shit!

He tried to ignore the inarticulate groan from Williams as the mutie whore unbuttoned her shirt for the freak and he - it - slid it and her bra quickly off. The kid had probably never seen tits outside a dirty magazine or a porn movie, but still.... He couldn't believe this. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with a professional obligation to watch two mutie freaks going at it like cats in season. They didn't fucking pay him enough for this.

He carefully estimated their distance from key landmarks again, his brain going on autopilot as he tried to ignore what was actually going on in front of them. Wishing that Williams were trying to ignore it as well. They were still at least five to six meters beyond the safe pick up range at his estimate - not close enough to bother with the precision of the laser range finder. The second they got within two meters though, he'd have back-up heading in. They'd be ready to nail the freaks the second they crossed the perimeter into the safe range.

"Shit," he mumbled, feeling Williams jump at the sound. He quickly relaan uan update to HQ, informing them of the target's position and current...activity...before forcing his eyes back to the pair. Just in time to be disgusted by what she was doing with the thing's tail. He glanced away, thoroughly repulsed.

_God! How can she even *touch* that, let alone...? Ugh!_

He glanced at his partner, taking quick note of the glazed look in the boy's eyes. His slack-jawed stare combined with his short, shallow breaths left Newcombe even further repulsed. The kid was actually getting off on this.

_If he touches himself I am so going to kick his ass. God, I wonder if he's the type of sicko who gets off on watching dogs and horses too?_ He shuddered at the thought and looked back to the pair of freaks. God, he was never going to live this down - stuck out here watching a pair of muties rut.

Then again, maybe not - the blue-furred freak had actually pushed itself away. Now _that_ was a shock - to Williams too from the sounds of it. Newcombe sneered at the inarticulate sound of disappointment from the boy. Hard to believe the thing had the self-control to turn down sex, really.

As he watched the silent tableau before him, Newcombe almost found himself wishing he could hear them speak. Hard as it was to believe the thing could actually talk, it did appear to be a two-way conversation - and a pretty acrimonious one at that. Damn! Was it actually going to attack her? A mutie fight wasefinefinite improvement over mutie sex, though he still fervently wished they'd chosen some other spot on the perimeter for their rendezvous.

They'd shifted a bit and Newcombe automatically estimated their current distance from the perimeter again - still a good four to five meters at least. He relayed an update to HQ and requested back-up be put on immediate stand-by. The way this was heating up there was a definite chance they'd break the perimeter. A moment later he received confirmation and went back to observing, just in time to get the shock of his life.

"Holy fucking shit!" Only long weeks of conditioning kept his voice just above a whisper - significantly quieter than the strangled noise coming from Williams.

Where seconds before had stood a fuzzy blue demon, tail lashing and eyes burning eerily, now there was a thoroughly unremarkable, non-descrieenaeenager. Pale, lanky, shoulder length black hair.

"The brass are gonna fuckin' shit bricks," he breathed incredulously.

He'd seen that kid before. They all had. He went out the gate almost every damn day with total impunity. He hadn't shown up on TV. Had not, to their knowledge, ever done anything the least bit unusual. No hint of what, if any, powers he might have. Consequently, no one had paid him any mind at all. Not even enough to bother putting a name he fhe face. Apparently the consensus had been that he couldn't have any powers worth paying attention to if he wasn't even any use to the muties.

He fumbled frantically for the control of the small, helmet mounted video camera they all carried and hit "record" a fraction of a second too late.

"Oh shit," he muttered agawithwith significantly more feeling this time, as the 'normal' boy disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared and the demon again stood in his place. Williams was still making odd, strangled noises - doubtless the unfortunate by-product of trying to think his way through the situation. They were both _so_ dead. They should have started recording the second the thing came within range. The detail wasn't too good at this distance, but it was good enough to pick up _that_ little trick.

He fumbled blindly for his comm and then paused, turning to look at the boy beside him. "You _did_ see that, right?"

No _way_ was he going to send _that_ message unless he was 100% sure the kid wouldn't shoot him down.

"Oh hell yes," Williams breathed with fervor. "I sure as shit did."

Newcombe grunted in response as he pressed his microphone in place against his throat and hit transmit, frantically composing his message as he went, hoping he was going to be believed and not written off as a nutcase or disciplined as an incompetent.

He waited an anxious moment as his communication was relayed to command, nearly jumping when his earphone crackled back to life.

"...Stand by for immediate reinforcements and relief. Please confirm...."

He did so promptly, letting his attention wander for a moment as he thought about what he'd just seen. If that kid was a fucking shape-shifter, on top of being a teleporter, then the game had just gotten _way_ more complicated.

"Well hell!" He looked up again in curiosity, wondering what had prompted the exclamation from Williams. Seeing nothing to justify the oath, he nudged the boy with a questioning grunt.

"Oh, she just hauled off and slapped the shit out of it," he explained with a grin.

He grunted again and went back to his surveillance. At least he wouldn't have to be at it much longer, and it was nice to know that even if the thing broke the perimeter tonight _he_ wasn't likely to be involved.

On the down side, he was probably about to face one of two almost equally unattractive activities: a long debriefing spent trying to convince the brass that he and Williams _hadn't_ been hallucinating as well as trying to cover their butts for not recording the whole exchange, or a short debriefing wherein one of the Organization's two tame telepaths confirmed that he hadn't been hallucinating. While he was repulsed by the prospect of coming into close physical contact with a mutie, the possibility of one actually _using_ its power on him was even worse....

It hadn't been more than two minutes since his transmission before the sound of footsteps alerted them to the arrival of their relief. He snapped to brisk attention when he saw just who it was. The brass weren't taking any chances at this point, it appeared. It was only a moment's work to deliver a brief update and gather their equipment, then he and Williams were on their way back towards HQ and what would probably be a _very_ long, _very_ unpleasant night.

[1] My dad actually used this particular curse. Not often, I'll admit, but he did. Apparently picked it up in the Canadian Navy in WWII.