The Companion Picture - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Dandelion
Last updated: 12/03/2009 06:26:08 PM

Chapter 31

Artur Kastenek rubbed his eyes as he waited for his companion to finish fiddling with the receiver on the table.

Tia Dahlquist looked up at him and winked through her round glasses. For some reason, she always seemed to remind him of John Lennon despite her full lips and overt femininity. She was an admitted Beatlemaniac so it was probably an image she cultivated.

She was also a genius when it came to electronics.

Kastanek had asked her once, jokingly, if she were a disciple of Forge. She had smiled coolly and replied that although Forge knew his stuff she considered herself a disciple of 'the Machine.'

He hadn't missed the importance she had put on that phrase. He wasn't certain what to make of her at times. He had sometimes dismissed her as one of those extremely intense 'techies' that populated the Department. She was, however, far and away the one he had come to rely on most when it came anything technological. Despite her eccentricities she seemed to understand things on a very intricate level. More importantly, she was discreet, an attribute Artur appreciated. This was especially true now that he had been informed from certain personages of import that any further investigation on Forge's disappearance on his part would be unofficial.

Artur had found the memo waiting for him when he came into the office that morning. Granger's name was conspicuously absent. Kastanek considered that significant since Granger was his supervisor. It could mean any number of things, but Kastanek had his own ideas about it. More than likely the higher-ups made a decision and Granger wasn't a part of it. Artur also knew that his unofficial status on the case was a silent urge to continue his investigation and use any means of finding out information.

Which had brought Kastanek directly to Tia Dahlquist's corner. He caught a shuttle from Washington to New York, where Dahlquist was stationed and had since been sitting across her desk for well over two hours as she made adjustments to the receiver, checked her data and then made more adjustments. He sighed loudly.

She glanced at him. "Bored?"

"Just waiting."

"It's not picking up everything you'd hoped for."

"Why not?"

Tia tucked a tiny screwdriver behind her ear. "Well, you installed it correctly."

Kastanek sighed again and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. "I had figured that."

"Even you make mistakes, Kastanek," Dahlquist replied dryly. "But in this case it seems that the jumpers aren't connecting. The system must be configured differently."

<Not a surprise,> Kastanek thought. <If Forge had anything to do with it.> "What have you got, Dahlquist?"

"You've tapped into the log files, good for you," she replied, looking at her computer monitor. "It is encrypted, though."

"Can you give me an ETA on the translation?"

"Today."

Artur nodded. It was just like her to be so non-committal. "You can do better than that."

"Do you want it done quickly or done well?" She tossed back.

"I want both," Kastanek stood up. "I'll be back in an hour."

Tia watched him go and narrowed her eyes. "I know what's going on, Artur," she whispered. "You can't fool me."

Hank McCoy studied Logan's charts with a grim countenance. He couldn't feel absolutely certain as to his friend's recovery for several reasons.

First of all, the wound itself. The back of Logan's head had been blown off and he hadn't been discovered for several hours. Logan's mutant gift, his healing factor, had begun to repair the extensive damage despite the severity of the wound. Hank found himself continuously amazed by Logan's healing factor. Was there anything it couldn't do?

Second, the sewers. Who knew what sort of bacteria was cultivating down there? Hank had done everything he could think of - twice - to sterilize Logan's wound once he was brought to the medical lab but he wouldn't know for certain what he would be dealing with for some time yet. Last, the stasis chamber. It was a Shi'ar piece of equipment which Hank detested using due to the physiological differences between their races. Hank had been at a loss, however, and went ahead to use it. The chamber was a sterile environment and was in a constant state of cleansing and re-cleansing. The readings, once hooked up to Forge's deciphering mechanism, were certainly worth having. Hank rubbed his eyes wearily and sat down.

Logan's healing factor was, indeed, regenerating his brain. That shouldn't have been a surprise what with Sabretooth's recovery on record. The difference being that Logan's head trauma was far more severe than Creed's had been.

In fact, the healing factor's work on Logan's brain was so intense that the rest of his body was suffering as a result. The muscles were in intermediate to advanced stages of atrophy and his organs were functioning on extremely low levels. Hank firmly believed that were it not for the pristine conditions of the stasis chamber Logan's body would be at a serious level of decay. He pressed the intercom at his desk.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Hank?" The Professor's voice held a harsh tone. Hank knew this was caused by Xavier's concern over Logan's condition and circumstances surrounding it.

"Tell Jean to get ready," Hank said. "We're ready to do a mindscan."

"I'll inform her immediately."

Hank sat back in his chair and regarded Logan's body again. One thing disturbed him more than anything else. <Who did this? And what did they come for?>

"Alex?"

Silence.

The room was dark and the figure that spoke was little more than a shadow. The shadow figure spoke to another figure lying still in a tank filled with a translucent blue fluid. That figure was of a young man with short blond hair and handsome features.

"Your time will soon come."

Silence.

"You are the independent one. You will succeed."

Silence.

"Rest, Alexander. Soon, you will be called upon."

Emma Frost leaned over Sean Cassidy's back to read over his shoulder. She smirked slightly as he began to squirm. Having someone read over his shoulder was a well-known pet peeve of Sean's but she tormented him anyway. One reason was that she was curious to see what he was so engrossed in. The other reason was because an off-kilter Sean was sexier than hell.

Sean shifted his position and cleared his throat several times in the hopes that Emma would get the hint.

If she did, she ignored it. He turned his head towards her to suggest that she bugger off but was met with the curve of her breast as it swelled under her bustier. He snapped his eyes to the front again with a red face feeling as though he had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. He flushed hotter as he became angry with himself for getting so flustered. <It's not as if she doesn't lay everything she's got for the world t'see anyway.>

Emma sat down across the table from him and looked him in the eye. "So are you going to tell me what you're doing or do I have to be sneaky?"

He frowned at her. "As if my telling you would stop that."

She drummed her fingers on the table.

"I'm workin' on something for Charles," he mumbled, rustling the papers and slouching over them.

"Why Sean you look almost sullen," Emma cooed. "I can probably help, you know." "Do you know Forge at all?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Then you wouldn't be much help." Emma looked towards the ceiling wondering why any man so irritating could be allowed to live. "I might draw a fresh perspective, Cassidy. Broaden your horizons, why don't you?"

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. "You're not going to leave me be, are you?"

Emma merely smiled.

He stared at her for several moments, then sighed and shoved some of the papers to her. He recounted the situation of Forge's disconnected number, the hologram in Xavier's Danger Room and the messages she gave. "So basically, Charles has a hologram that's talking in code to him."

Emma scanned over the papers she had been given. "How does he know for sure?"

"Bishop said so."

Emma stopped. "Excuse me?"

Sean didn't reply.

"We're going on the word of the most paranoid, anal-retentive mutant on the planet?"

"I said Bishop, not Scott," Sean offered a weak smile.

The corners of Emma's mouth flicked upward seemingly against her will. "Yes. Well, let me see if I can offer the perspective of a telepath."

"Forge isn't here, woman," Sean supplied wearily. "Ye can't just barge into his head and root around as ye please."

Emma eyed Sean coolly and offered a patient smile. "Sean," she said in her most schoolteacher voice. "There is more to being a telepath than reading minds."

Sean cocked an eyebrow. "Really then?" He regarded her thoughtfully for several moments.

"The floor is yours, Emma."

Emma held her hand out for the other pages. He handed them over and she studied them carefully for several minutes. "Classic literature," she remarked. "Interesting." She burst into rich laughter. "Oh, how very amusing," she said. "I've never met Forge but he's obviously very intelligent with a magnificent sense of humor."

"Any reason ye say that?"

"The first quote here is from the Song of Roland. It's a quote I've often linked with you X-people."

"Ye're an 'X-people' now too, Emma," Sean replied with a grin.

"I'm slumming." She continued reading. "This other is from Dante's Divine Comedy. The Inferno, to be specific. An interesting read if a bit tedious after a time."

Sean sighed. "Spare me the reviews, if you don't mind."

"These are both poems," Emma switched back to her analysis but otherwise did not acknowledge Sean's request. "Roland is a medieval text. It's a poem about Charlemagne's knights and in particular," she paused thoughtfully, her brow furrowing slightly. "In particular, it is about Roland's sacrifice for the sake of the order. The Divine Comedy is a man's journey through the afterlife."

"What's it tellin' you, then?" Sean asked gently, noting her thoughtful expression with interest.

"I'm inclined to follow my instincts here," she replied. "And I feel that the texts from which these quotes are taken are just as important as the quotes themselves. There's a bigger picture we're missing due to the fact that we're looking at a transcript log."

"You've got these texts, haven't you?" Sean asked, immediately seeing the validity of Emma's statement.

"You think this library is for show?" Emma stood up. "Of course I have these."

"Remy?"

The voice was thick and heavy, reaching the consciousness through a drug-induced cloud.

"How are you feeling, boy?"

He struggled to talk, but couldn't yet. He twitched and found his limbs secured.

"It's for your own good." There was a pause.

"Now just relax and open your eyes."

He opened his eyes and found that everything he looked at was tinged with red, as though his eyes were covered with a thin film of blood. A strangled cry escaped his throat and he thrashed some more.

A figure leaned over him. "It's no good. You won't break free."

He recognized the figure. Sinister. He

remembered being wheeled into the operating room.

"What you done t'me?" he whispered. Sinister smiled. "I've made you more than you were. I've made you complete." His smile faded. "You were the perfect host. Your physical make-up is almost flawless and your genes were able to stand the strain. This opportunity was impossible to pass up. You, Remy, shall never want again."

Remy's voice changed to something ethereal and unreal. "Free me. Free me or you shall not escape your reward."

Sinister's eyes hardened. "You belong to me now. Defy me and perish."

Remy's mind seemed to burn. With each breath it became hotter until everything seemed to be bathed in a white-hot fire….

Brett sat upright in bed with a strangled cry. Breathing heavily she scrambled to reach a light and quickly turned it on. Despite the shock the light was to her eyes she practically sobbed with relief. "Colors… Ah see colors. It's okay. It's not blood. Oh, God… Remy…" she covered her face with her hands. "What did he do to you?" She still felt the burning in her mind but it was fading quickly as was the nightmare. She glanced at the table where her lamp was and noticed that Lorna's note sat there.

<This is the thing that sent Remy off to the woods to… what? Think? Sulk? Cry?> She heaved an exasperated sigh as she idly looked at the letter then slammed both hands down on the table to look closer. Something in her mind clicked and the words took on an entirely different meaning. That meaning made her feel cold all over. She grabbed the letter and raced across her room towards the balcony. One well timed shoved knocked the door completely off its hinges. Brett took a couple of quick steps, jumped up to the balcony ledge and flung herself into the air and towards her lover.

"Are you ready, Jean?"

Jean glanced at Hank and nodded.

"Definitely."

"Do your thing," Hank turned away from her and studied his monitors.

Charles sat a short distance away and watched the proceedings intently. He was there to monitor Jean's condition as Hank was to monitor Logan's. It had been decided through several days of discussion and debate that Jean would be the best choice to do the mindscan of Logan to see how things were progressing. Jean stood the best chance of entering Logan's mind without being fought. Despite the damage to his brain there was every reason to believe that the possibility of some sort of shield or backlash would exist. Jean took a deep breath and got very still. An outside observer would not see anything but a woman sitting quietly, perhaps in meditation, but Hank and Charles were familiar with mental powers and they knew Jean had already left her own consciousness and was deep in the astral realm.

The images were, at best, abstract and disjointed. Jean looked around her and sighed softly. Logan's mind was a puzzle under normal conditions. His memories were either fabricated or altered and it was never easy to figure out what it was you were looking at.

Jean pressed deeper into Logan's mind, or what was left of it, and felt a hard resistance to her probes. She smiled to herself. His instinctual shields were still in place, at least in this section of his brain. It was encouraging, at any rate.

She expanded her awareness and let her own astral aura touch Logan's mind. There was a hesitance in the mindblock, as if it knew her touch but wasn't exactly sure why. Jean remained patient, simply putting her energy out for Logan to feel until he was comfortable enough to let her in.

Eventually, the shields subsided and she delved further in. She moved slowly, so as not to disrupt things further than they already were, until she found a place to stop and look around. Again, the images were either abstracted or simple. Colors and shapes seemed the predominant symbology in Logan's mind. Other simple ideas like 'Skies are blue' and 'Rain is wet' seemed to be floating around as well. The images were real and they were progressing as images should inside a person's mind. The fact that they were simple was not as disturbing as it could have been. Jean was happy there was anything there at all. As the images shifted to sounds, Jean began the process of extricating herself from Logan's mind. She heard the howling of winds, the sound of gongs, and a familiar 'snikt', and as she left completely, she thought it rather interesting that the theme song from "The Sound of Music" could be heard.

Emma and Sean leaned over the table where they had opened up the two volumes that held Forge's mysterious quotes. They surveyed the passages in question.

"I'm disappointed," Emma stated. "This isn't proving to be as fruitful as I'd hoped."

"Ye can't expect the answers to just pop out and pinch you," Sean replied. He leaned over to study the two books intently.

"I believe I can," Emma replied caustically. "I'm reputed to be something of an expert in the ways the mind works."

"It's not your way to be diminishin' yourself, Emma," Sean told her. "So don't be expectin' me to build your ego up for you."

"I know," she answered. "And I don't. I was trying something new. I think, though, that it may be your turn to use your own investigative skills, Agent Cassidy. You know Forge, what does your instinct tell you?"

"Forge was always something of an enigma," Sean's voice was somewhat distant. "I liked him well enough. He was certainly more my age than some of the other X-men. He was easier for me to relate to as well, neither of us saw the X-men as the pivotal reason for our existence. I had a life before I met Xavier and so did Forge."

Emma touched her fingers to her lips in a small effort to hide a smile.

Sean glanced at her. "What's so funny?"

Emma laughed lightly. "That's quite a different tune than what most of the others sing, you know. It was almost worth believing that Xavier had actually brain-washed the entire school."

"Well, the man inspires loyalty," Sean remarked. "And you're naturally suspicious."

"True," Emma conceded. "I am suspicious."

"These lines are numbered," Sean said suddenly.

Emma nodded. "Epic poetry generally numbers their lines. Shakespeare is the same way."

"Aye, but look," Sean flipped a few pages. "See the stanzas are numbered as well, in both works." He looked thoughtful. "It means something."

Emma looked at him seriously. "Are you sure?"

He lifted his gaze to hers. "I'm followin' my instincts."

She reached for a piece of paper and began writing the numbers down.

Tia Dahlquist surveyed her work silently. She noticed Artur heading her way and turned her chair slightly to meet him.

"Have you got those logs uncoded?"

"No," she said simply.

A frown came deep into Kastanek's eyes. Tia only looked at him, her eyes widened slightly. There were people in the department that were afraid of Kastanek's frowning eyes. She figured that those same frowning eyes were a part of what made him effective in the field.

Tia Dahlquist did not frighten easily.

"Dahlquist, I'm going to ask you again," Artur said quietly. "And this time I'd better have an answer I like."

Tia leaned forward in her chair. "Really, Artur, it isn't like you to be so sloppy. If one avenue stops short you make a detour, isn't that what you always tell me?"

Artur rested one ankle on his knee and regarded her silently. "You're saying you found something else."

She grinned at him.

He rubbed his chin, slowly exhaling. "I apologize for snapping at you."

"Apology accepted," she turned back to her monitor. "While I was trying to decode the logs, I noticed that there was a static recording on the transmitter. I fed it into the system and found something very impressive."

"What?" Artur leaned forward.

Tia turned her head and looked at him. "It's binary," she told him. "It's a picture."

"Can you pull it up?"

"Done," she pulled a manila envelope out of her desk drawer and tossed it to him.

Artur opened the envelope and looked at the printout. "It's a map."

"Correction. It's a marked map." She checked her watch. "And there's a shuttle to Boston in about thirty minutes."

Artur Kastanek smiled.

"I've never particularly cared for numbers games," Emma said wearily. "Especially numbers games created by technophiles like Forge."

Sean sat with his elbows on the table and his fingers through his hair. "Aye. Never been one to play with math. I've always preferred a good drink and a good woman to a game of chess, anyway."

Emma smiled to herself. Sean tended to get a little bawdy when he was tired and frustrated. She pulled her cell-phone out of her pocket and began dialing. "I use numbers for precious few things," she stated. "Bank accounts are one. There aren't enough numbers here for that. Stocks, the numbers here are too many. Passwords, cash or credit cards and addresses, none of these fit because you need some other peripheral. Phone numbers I use all the time. And you only need a phone. Those are easy to get your hands on."

"As if you had any trouble getting your hands on anything," Sean grumbled. "Well, I haven't got my hands on you yet, have I?" Emma pressed the phone to her ear and waited. Sean straightened and looked at her.

She frowned. "Wrong number."

He nodded to the table. "Try again."

She did. This time the phone picked up.

Emma straightened and grabbed Sean's arm.

"It's a recording." Swiftly, she switched the phone to her other ear and leaned close to him holding the phone between them so they could both hear.

"Roland knows what must be done. A tavern and an inn awaits to comfort the weary traveler. A stone's throw away from the coldest spot in town - a town known for it's savage and bitter parties."

Emma started to laugh.

Sean pulled away. "Another bleedin' code?"

"Already broken," she stood up. "Granite Falls Hotel in Boston. I can see it from my offices at Frost Enterprises. Let's go find out what Forge has hidden, shall we?"

"Wait a minute," Sean stood as well. "This isn't our game, it's Charles'."

"Admit it," Emma said, poking him in the chest. "You want to know what this is about just as much as I do. Maybe even more."

"Ha!" Sean lifted his chin, looking smug. "Knowing what everyone else is up to is an obsession with you. I'm just curious."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Have it your way. At any rate, we're here, we're local and you want to know what's going on even if you won't admit it."

"All right," he lifted one hand up with his index finger extended. "But this is only because we're here and we can deliver it to Charles easier than his people comin' all this way to dig it up and take it back to Westchester."

"Shall you drive or shall I?" Emma dangled the keys.

Granite Falls was a newer hotel chain with a Pacific Northwest theme. Sean whistled as they walked in.

"I could stand a bit of time away here," he said, admiring the décor.

Emma shrugged. "It has a certain primitive appeal. And a low end room costs about $200 a night."

"Really," Sean looked around. "So it wouldn't be a particularly cheap vacation."

"Cheap vacation? You?" Emma looked shocked. "I wonder what you do to get away from it all. Wrestle bears? Live in a cave? Drink to excess and dance jigs?"

"Ha ha," Sean said sourly. "And what do you do? Go to some spa and pay someone to douse you in peat moss and mud?"

"Well maybe I should go on vacation with you sometime, Sean." Emma smiled sweetly. "Then I wouldn't have to pay for it, would I?"

Sean grinned. "I'm not quite a peasant, woman."

"Well, I have seen your home," she conceded. "The ancestral castle that bears the name of Cassidy. It is impressive. I've often wondered why you left it."

Sean's face took on a haunted look. "That castle is full of ghosts," he said quietly.

The full meaning of his words hit Emma square in the forehead. Sean had lost his cousin, his wife and his daughter there. He may have found Teresa again, but the years that had been lost could never be regained.

"Sean," she said gently. "I apologize for that."

"Never mind," he said sharply, heading to the front desk. "We've got work to do."

"Reservations under Roland Travallier," Emma cooed at the desk clerk when they stepped up. She leaned against Sean and smiled.

The clerk looked at them with a knowing look in his eye. He turned to his monitor and began to look up the reservation.

<He thinks we're newlyweds,> Emma told Sean telepathically.

<I'm surprised he doesn't recognize you,> he replied. <I thought everyone in Boston knew the illustrious Emma Frost.>

<He thinks we look completely different,> Emma assured him. <I'm a raven-haired temptress and you're a typical tall, dark and handsome man. The type who should be seen with me.>

<What good's a disguise if you're only goin' to change one thing about me?> Sean teased.

"Would you like our complimentary champagne sent up now?" The clerk looked between the couple.

Emma tossed her head and looked at Sean.

"Honey? Do you think we need it now?" She reached down and pinched him firmly on the butt.

Sean jumped, flushed and grabbed Emma around the waist. He pulled her against him and held her there tightly, nearly cracking a rib in the process. "Ye little minx," he said to her, with what the clerk took to be a fond expression.

Emma trilled a laugh that ended with a low sing-song comment of: "Too tight."

"Not nearly," Sean murmured back to her. He looked at the clerk. "We won't be needing it for a while, if you take my meaning." He winked broadly. "We'll give a buzz when we're ready for it."

"Of course, sir," the clerk smiled. "Enjoy your stay."

"Oh, no question of that." Sean turned, released Emma and nudged her towards the elevator.

"Lead on, my love."

As they headed into the elevator a pair of eyes followed them.

"Mr. Cassidy and Ms. Frost," Artur Kastanek made a note in his folder. "How very interesting but not entirely unexpected."

"You are a cretin."

"You started it," Sean told her as they entered the room. "What's the idea of pinchin' me?"

"How could I resist, you manly man?" Emma blew a kiss over her shoulder as she entered the room.

"A more infuriating woman than you couldn't possibly exist," Sean grumbled.

"I hope not."

The suite was luxurious in every sense of the word and looking around Sean was bombarded by images that were not at all connected with the business that had brought them to this place. Images of fire, champagne, tangled sheets, tangled bodies, sweating and moaning, white leather, silk, and a certain long-legged platinum blonde whose eyes were the bluest he'd ever seen and whose body felt anything but unpleasant when pressed against his in the lobby.

Sean cleared his throat and glanced at Emma. She was standing in the middle of the room silently. He had seen this before. She was attuning herself to the vibrations in the room. He took a quick lap around the suites and then fired off a high-pitched sonic scream that he used to bounce off any surveillance devices.

"This is it," Emma said opening her eyes. Sean nodded and sent out another sonic burst to effectively disable said surveillance devices.

"We're clear."

She smiled. "You do good work."

He shrugged, thinking she'd scarcely seen half of what he could do well. "What have you found?"

"The safe," Emma walked casually over to a picture on the wall, removed and gestured to the safe.

"Don't tell me," Sean waved his hands. "You know the combination, too."

"Don't be silly," she smiled. "Breaking and entering is your department. I'm the lookout, remember?"

He chuckled softly and sent one burst towards the safe. "Now, get what's there and let's make our escape."

Emma opened the door and pulled out what looked like a hand-held computer. "We've got the goods."

Sean raised his eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?"

They walked casually to the balcony door and opened it. "Isn't that agent talk?" She asked him. He laughed.

"Not when I was licensed," he told her. "Things may have changed since then." He looked over the balcony. They were on the side of the hotel that did not face the street. "Looks like we've got service entrances back here." He climbed over the railing. "We shouldn't have many witnesses. If we do, they're all yours." He held onto the railing with one hand and held the other one out for her.

Holding onto the Forge's creation, Emma balanced on the railing and leaned back into Sean's arms. She pulled her legs up and rested the crook of her knees near Sean's other hand.

"Ready?"

She nodded, curling one arm around his neck. She glanced down at the distance between them and the ground. "Let's go."

Sean let go of the railing and quickly tucked his hand under Emma's knees. Without the support that one hand hold offered them, he tipped backwards into empty space with Emma firmly in his embrace.

Emma tightened her stomach muscles as they dropped towards the ground. She forced herself to keep her eyes open however, despite the fact that they were plunging headfirst towards the concrete. Their descent leveled out and slowed after a moment. Emma felt a little better, but her breath came no easier. Eventually, Sean touched down and looked at her with a grin.

Emma's face was pale and drawn. She was looking steadily upwards, waiting for her stomach to catch up and rejoin her on the ground again. Sean noticed the death grip she had on him at that point. "Emma? Are ye--"

"Don't ever do that again!" Emma yelled. "And put me down."

Sean set her down softly. "What's the matter?"

"I don't particularly care for free-fall."

Looking at Emma, Sean could see quite plainly that she hadn't much enjoyed his impromptu bungee-jump without the bungee. Seeing her unsteady like this he had never liked her more. He placed his hands on her shoulders gently. "I'm sorry, lass. I had no idea."

"Well, why do you think I only travel in lear jets?" She demanded.

"'Cause ye didn't have me around, of course," he replied.

She looked at him sharply ready to wipe the teasing grin she knew was there off his face. He wasn't grinning, exactly. He just looked at her kindly. She met his gaze with one of her own and lifted her chin slightly. "Well, no harm done. Just warn me next time." She straightened her jacket casually.

"Of course I will," he assured her. "Let's go then. We've got a bit of a drive ahead of us."

He placed his arm about her shoulders supportively and ushered her in the direction of the car. Emma decided that his touch was certainly not unwelcome.

Back at the school they sequestered themselves in Emma's office to figure out exactly what it was they had brought back from Granite Falls.

"It looks like a transmitter," Emma said watching Sean fiddle with it.

"It looks like a tracer," he replied. "Ah, here we go." He flipped a switch and powered it up. "Password entry," he grumbled. "Of course." On a whim he entered in the password that they had set as the backdoor access for Muir Isle before the Shadow King crisis had come to a head. The screen blinked <Accepted> and Sean smiled.

"Forge is a man who appreciates history," he looked at Emma. "We're in."

She whipped around the desk and sat next to him, leaning over so she could see the diminutive screen as well.

Sean selected the intro option that was available and a video popped up. Forge peered at them from the screen. He smiled enigmatically.

"Hello Sean."

Emma laughed out loud.

"You broke the code and you remembered a blast from our past. Bravo, Irish," the video continued. "The information on this device is critical and of the gravest importance." He paused. "You won't find me until I'm ready to be found. I've got operatives working across the globe for what's coming and now it's your turn to join the ranks. Emma glanced at Sean, her face nothing but serious now.

"A faction of the Department of Defense is working on turning what they call virus-l into a genetic weapon against Homo sapiens superior. X-Factor was to be their guinea pig. They had already tested Polaris, using the Magneto Protocols as a cover-up. We managed to get her out of the immediate area before they got further with her, but others were not so lucky. "Sean, I hate telling you this, but we have a casualty. Alex Summers is dead."

"Good God," Sean whispered.

"We have reason to believe that the faction operates under the name Black Pyramid. Keep your eyes open, Sean. Now comes the difficult part. "I have jettisoned several key pieces of equipment across the nation, you and the rest of the team will need to pick these up. The directions are in this unit as are the schematics of the item you'll be putting together with those parts. Shard is the key. You'll get more information as you go.

"Good luck, Sean. I'll be in touch."

Sean looked up his face pale and drawn. Emma was already on the phone. "Charles?" Her voice was quiet. "You need to come here right away. Bring Scott and his…" she paused. "Bring Scott and Jean." She took a deep breath. "There's trouble."