He hugged the woman, who barely seemed to notice. "Ahem. Which brings us to, how do I hold on to the incredibly powerful Miss Mars? And how will I keep you from telling anyone my little secrets? Ah. Well. Maria, show them."

Maria raised her head, her eyes meeting mine. I had a moment of panic, as I felt a presence in my head, insinuating itself, twisting around parts of my mind. There was the briefest sense of ... apology?... before it pulled. There was an obscene ripping sensation and an incandescent detonation behind my eyes, and I collapsed to the ground, senseless.

"Jack," Court began mildly, as she wiped brains from her face, "if you were worried that zombies were caused by something attacking the brain, something that might be infectious, something that you didn't understand at all, what part of the zombie would you least want to SPLASH ACROSS YOUR CO-WORKERS?"

Court nodded grimly. "We have intelligence about one of those groups. We're not sure if they're crazies or not.

They call themselves 'El Crá¡neo Rojo' -- 'The Red Skull'. And... we think they have zombies."

She sat up to face me, her expression serious. "How can you plan for contingencies, when you can't possibly guess at all the scenarios? Who knows what's out there? Every nation that can manage it will have their own metas there -- and not all of them are friendly to us. Then there's the groups that don't want these talks to happen at all, or the crazies who just want to see their name in the headlines. What if they have a meta up their sleeve?"

I interrupted her. "Never mind that. The chips. I want them." I needed at least one sample, and I couldn't trust anyone else to destroy the remainder.

She frowned at me. "Now hold on one moment, Miss..."

I sighed, and silently cursed my new form for the thousandth time. Intimidation wasn't in my arsenal anymore, unless you were six years old. If I couldn't intimidate, I had to demonstrate, and that took time and people got hurt. My hand snapped out and grabbed the woman's throat, lifiting her off the ground. "Chips!"

Her hands clutched at her hand on my throat for a few moments, before she pointed frantically back towards the hallway. "Office. Safe." she choked out.

The first one reached out to grab me. I wanted to kill them -- kill somebody -- so badly I could taste it, but I couldn’t afford the luxury. Not yet. I broke his arm and smashed his knee, putting him down with a gratifying scream. The second guy I just tossed over the bar into the wall, hard. He slid down and didn’t move. I slapped Ramon’s knife out of his hand and bent him backwards over the bar, fist bunched in his shirt, my now-broken beer bottle pressed into his cheek. “The bartender touches that gun, you lose the fuckin’ eye, kay? You choose.”

"Hey! Wait! You said you wanted to talk!"

I sighed and settled back to the roof. "We have been talking. We’ve been talking about what a bunch of fuckups you are. How you’ve been infiltrated, and you knew it, and you dragged me into this anyway." My voice was rising. "I am not interested in your games. I’m just trying to cope with the shit that’s been dumped on me, live my life, and help out where I can. As far as I can tell, the only thing that keeps me out of your hands is that you don’t know who I am."

I folded my arms across my chest. "I don’t know why you asked Jade to set up this meeting. I don’t know anything about your group. I don’t know what your intentions are, or if I should trust you even if you told me. I’m not feeling a lot of government love out there for metas. Some of you guys have already tried to cart me off and dissect me, alive or not. I was lucky -- lucky! -- Jade was there for me. Nobody else was. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t you. Or maybe you’re just plan B."

The night guard at the gate of Terberon Research Corporation settled in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk, pouring the first cup of coffee of the night from his thermos. The front window of the gatehouse afforded a clear view of the road leading up to the facility, as it wound through the trees toward the brightly-lit final half-mile straightaway culminating at the gate. In the darkness, the headlights of any approaching traffic would be visible a good five minutes before it eventually arrived at his post.

The first indication he had that his facility was under attack, was the sniper's bullet exploding out of the darkness and into his brain.

I took a deep breath. "I'm metahuman."

He shrugged at that. "I expected something of the sort, or I wouldn't have invited you in. You are... unbalanced. In here." He pointed at his chest. "What is inside you does not match the outside. Why do you think I can help?" Just a trace of impatience, a hint of master dealing with a dull student. Executed to perfection.

I lowered my eyes, studying the fine wisps of steam rising out of my cup. "I have new abilities, that I am still getting used to. Strength. Speed. I am very difficult to hurt." I raised my eyes to his. "I'm a blunt instrument. It would be very easy for me to kill a person with a single blow. I don't need anyone's help for that. It is very hard for me to not kill a person with a single blow, and that's where I hope you can help."

Ben Turner offered a half-smile. "I believe I can help. Do not strike anyone. Thank you for coming."

Dolores studied me for a moment. "You're going out there, aren't you? That's what this is about," she asked quietly.

I nodded slowly, wanting her approval. "How can I not?" I asked. "Heatstroke is another metahuman, has to be. There's only a few of us in the whole world, can we really assume somebody else will just show up to take him on? He killed five cops, Dolores. He's going to own this city. And he works for the Cartel. You can be sure he won't be the only metahuman to go bad."

"And what will you do after that?"

"I'll go after the Carpaci family. With me dead, the D.A.'s whole case falls apart. They'll be rubbing his nose in it."