Doctor (call me Emilia) Destayne put the money in the machine and out popped my smokes. It hadn't taken much; I'd just told her they took the edge off on a day when I was considering how best to snap everyone's neck. I'd been a little worried that she would take it as a threat since I'm not the best at explaining things, but she took it in stride, for all that it pissed off the honor guard. Five minutes of words and I was puffing with a profound sigh.

Outside, of course, since this was a hospital.

“So, what happens now?” I asked her, leaning back to hold up the wall.

“Well, that's up to you.”

I smelled a hint of bullshit. “How so, exactly?”

The good doctor started ticking fingers off. “You're officially a non-entity, and don't exist. There is no one willing to contest that or fight our claim to you. As such, you've been given to me to take care of. I have a set of documents on the way under the name Victoria Destayne, but they will take awhile to arrive. In the meantime, you'll be living with me, in my house in Middletown, Virginia. You'll love it there. I'm willing to take you in, and after settling in, we will have to talk about fitting in. That, or the army can have you; you go in as a ward of whatever state they decide and enter the system. I can almost guarantee things will go less than smoothly if you choose that route.”

So I could be locked away somewhere and raised as a weapon, or play ball and have a layer of insulation between me and being locked away and used as a weapon. Having the doc's name and then suddenly vanishing would bring heat of a kind down on all their heads, especially after they went to all the trouble of fabricating the life for me.

The only problem is I was pretty sure the doc wanted a daughter, here. I didn't really know how to play that part.

She confirmed it. “Of course, you'll have to go to school, and do all those other troubling things you're currently thinking about; I won't lie to you there. In fact, in your case, it might be even more important than it is for most – there is a school that teaches the youth of the world how to use their powers, and I can't help but think you need that bad. My home isn't really that far from it, as the crow flies.”

Does Marvel know someone is ripping them off? Is the owner an old bald guy?”

The doc grinned. “Not really. The owner is about as far from an old bald guy as it is possible to get. So what's it to be? Say the word, and I can get an appointment with the school; quickly and easily.”

It wasn't really much of a choice, but I considered both options anyway, at least until my cig burned out. “I think I'd rather hang with you if you don't mind.” I couldn't deny that learning about what my power did and why appealed to me. The doc had implied the school eggheads had taught her, and I could deal with that.

She also implied that the school was, while close, away from her. And given that it was a secret place (I certainly hadn't heard of it) I doubted anyone could just go there on a whim to kidnap me or anything.

“Sure, I don't mind. I invited you after all. Alright, I'll get it all set up. But for now, it's time to fly again.”

I resumed my holding up the wall pose, and she grinned. “We aren't in Virginia, after all. So it's time to go, my lovely new daughter. Time to see your new home.”

“Joy.”

She lunged, and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the wall. I had to remind myself not to deck her. “Oh it'll be fun, I have all sorts of projects in mind for you once we get there. I need my windows done, and my windowsills painted, and the gutters cleaned, and....”

I tuned her out. She was a bit too obvious about trying to get my goat anyway.

We headed into the parking garage, and into a black limo. I watched as a steamer trunk was loaded, as well as bags that I recognized. The driver opened the door, and it took me a second to realize everyone was looking at me; I'd just been about to cross the car and enter from the other side.

“Right, whatever.” I got in, and the doc piled in behind me with a smile.

The driver shut the door behind her and I stretched out.

Inching my hand toward the booze caused the doc's grin to widen. “You know you only weigh about sixty pounds, right?”

Darn it. I eased away from the whiskey. “Right, one would probably screw me up.” That was probably not the best idea.

“I'm not saying no, by the way.”

“If you did, I'd just ignore you,” I told her.

“That's fine, as long as we're alone or among friends,” she replied, nodding her head at the driver. “But when among everyone else, you're going to have to act. I do hope you can do that.”

I shrugged. “We'll find out together.”

The car ride was a short one, to the outskirts of the military base that was trying hard not to look like a military base and the small airport. I didn't question it when the doc led the way to a small private jet already facing the end of the landing strip and the desert beyond with its engines idling.

The driver waved me off and managed the steamer trunk himself. I snagged the bags when he wasn't looking, and slipped them into the cargo area next to the trunk. They held my old clothes, and some new ones, unfortunately, both sets for me.

As soon as I went up the stairs, the door was shut and we began to taxi with a lurch.

“Belt up.” The doc called. She was already belted in somehow.

I dove into the nearest seat and locked up. The window was open, and I watched as the ground receded.

I could feel the stress ramp up; something about flying made my fists and brain clench.

“You can smoke on this aircraft if you have to,” The doc said, concern her makeup of the moment. “Some do anyway. I'd just recommend you wait until cruising altitude.

I tried to give her a smile; It didn't take. “I got it. I'll be fine.”

My mind was telling me to tense, and it was much stronger than before I found myself in this stupid body – but that was probably a false lead. After all, plenty of girls could handle plane rides. Was I afraid of flying? I'd never been afraid of heights before.

A closer look, a more in-depth one, revealed it was the voice. That one voice I'd heard yelling at me before was yammering at me in a whisper now: fall from this height will prove fatal over and over in a loop. Telling the voice I had no intention of falling didn't quiet it.

Something else was also happening; that snap crackle popping feeling but on repeat, almost as if it were shuffling my head like a deck of cards.

I forced myself to relax and tried to sleep. My head was having none of it.

“Hey.” I jumped, having almost forgotten the doc was here. She was close, out of her seat and staring into me with her big eyes.

“Hey,” I answered; she'd seen my reaction, but didn't mention it. I wasn't going to bring it up.

“So, this flight is pretty boring. Want to help me liven it up some?”

“How?” I asked, wary.

The doc smiled and lifted herself up, sliding into the seat across from mine. Then she pulled out – a deck of cards? Some colorful deck...Uno?

I felt I should remind her of some important things. “You realize I'm not a kid, right?”

She nodded, smile still on. “You don't need to be a kid to like Uno. Come on, two people can play this.”

“The flight attendant makes three.” I pointed out.

“So she does – and she has the drink tray we need! It's win-win!”

…...

Apparently, I sucked at Uno, somehow. I wasn't as bad as the flight attendant, but the deceptively simple game apparently had some depth that I wasn't seeing, and the doc was a master of. She smoked us most of the time. When she finally put the deck up, just before the tray tables were due to be placed in an upright position, I might have been a little disappointed; I was way behind on won games.

Not that I'd ever admit such a thing, of course. The doc's grin told me she knew.

Another limo ride, this one slightly longer, and we were in suburbia, USA. A more wet and humid suburbia, with different trees and more green just lying around. It was also in better condition than I was used to, and I counted three cop cars patrolling the streets before we stopped. Had I somehow taken a trip to a gated community, and missed the gate? All the houses were magazine worthy, but none of them had anything tacky at all. They just didn't stand out in any way; it was weird.

I felt like I was watching one of those old movies about family life during the cold war or something.

The house the limo finally pulled up to was right off the main drag, on Elm Street. That much fit; the place was a two-story colonial, and it fit with its colonial neighbors... but it was stone to their wood. And not brick, either. Rough stones in shades of gray mortared together in that vaguely picturesque way some people liked. There were two Elm trees out front, casting the porch and sidewalk in shade.

There was no fence, and the backyards I could see from here were all a good three lots or so back home.

“If your yard is as big as the others, I'm not mowing it.”

The doc just smirked as the driver let her out of the car. “That shouldn't be a problem; I have a groundskeeper.”

Of course, she did; I kind of hoped he was named Willie. The driver grabbed the trunk, and I grabbed my bags. We walked up a sidewalk so clean it had to have been power-washed recently.

The doc unlocked the door and turned off the alarm system. Then she turned off the secondary alarm system that was hidden behind the basement door. I memorized the codes, since she didn't seem too intent on hiding them from me, and walked left into the living room.

The floor was dark stained hardwood, with a large tan throw rug bearing some design I was willing to bet was Indian on it. The television had to be fifty inches and was mostly flat. There was a Blu-ray player under it, nestled in between the surround sound system that probably cost more than my last house.

The fireplace mantle held knickknacks of crystal and gold, and I was willing to bet the gold was real. Evidently, military research paid better than I knew; I was in the wrong racket.

The kitchen was like a cooking show set, with all the pots and pans hanging on a rack over the polished granite countertop, and a stove and a fridge and dishwasher that matched, in light off whites contrasted by dark trim.

The hall was as almost as big as my mobile home, with room for maybe three people to fit side by side, and carpeted its entire length. It led to an L shaped staircase that had no less than six doors; two on the left, and four on the right. All were good hardwood, with latch locks.

The first on the left was a bathroom that was large enough to use as a bedroom, even with the large claw-footed tub and sink. Both cast iron unless I missed my guess. The fixtures above them were more modern, all slick plastic and multi-featured.

There was no vanity, just the sink anchored to the wall, but there was a type of armoire that held the washcloths and towels and other crap. It even had a first aid kit and over most common over the counter meds.

“Done snooping?” The doc asked from behind me. Of course, her house, so she knew where all the creaks were, and how to avoid them.

“Not even close.”

The next room was a master bedroom, done in dark pastels. The bed was a king sized that was smothered in comforters and had an old looking quilt at its foot. There was a walk-in closet to the right with those little folding doors, and an armoire to the left, two nightstands on either side of the bed, and room for it all. There was also a door off to the left past the armoire, which was probably a bathroom.

“My room.” The doc said.

I shut the door. If there were any drawers in the house I didn't want to go through, these were it.

“The other rooms are all empty, pick whichever one you want, and I'll get it furnished as soon as possible. Unfortunately, that might take awhile, and you'll have to sleep on the couch until then. The bathroom here is yours, I'll be using my own, and the public at large will use the downstairs one. I'm going to go make some coffee.”

She strode off but stopped before she got all the way down the stairs. “Oh, I know this is kind of an imposition, but I'd appreciate it if you not smoke in the house just yet. I'm going to get something that will deal with the smoke and air quality reduction, but it'll take some time to arrive. Until then we'll have to work something out.”

I opened the first door. It led to an empty and spare room, painted light blue with white trim. The floor was dusty. “I can just smoke outside, can't I?”

“Well, the neighbors and police might start to talk if a ten to twelve year old went outside and lit up, you know? Best to try and be a bit more stealthy about things. As I said, I'll think on it.”

Well, shit. What business was it of theirs? Stupid neighbors. At least I didn't feel the need right now.

“Fine, but make enough coffee for both of us.”

She laughed. “Done, although trading one drug for another doesn't work, historically.”

The second door led to a room painted poo brown; I was instantly reminded of home. All of the no; I closed that door in a hurry.

“Don't care. Drugs are bad until you need 'em.”

The third door led to a large dusty room, this one painted white. It was dusty too, and there were faint smears of dirt (at least I hoped it was just dirt) on the walls.

It didn't stink, so it was probably just dirt. The windows were in good repair, and sealed well; the view was into the backyard, which was as big as I expected and complete with a small gentle sloped hill with a slightly stunted apple tree topping it.

There was also a concrete pool in the backyard, just beyond the patio. And beyond that, a small swing and slide set made of aged wood and metal that was probably just beginning to rust around the edges. I hadn't seen any evidence of the doc having kids.

The last door opened into a sort of guest room, complete with bed and nightstand. The closet was mostly empty but held two suits, both for men. Both for the same man, judging from the sizes. There were no other personal items in the room. The room was wallpapered, one of those awful abstract design wallpapers that were all the rage before I was born, in tans and browns that matched the furniture, at least when one discounted the water stains and discoloration. There was less dust to stir around here.

With no places left to explore, I headed downstairs.

The doc was waiting on me, a mug of coffee already poured and sitting steaming across from her as she nursed her own. It annoyed me that my feet wouldn't touch the ground all the way when I sat in the chair.

The coffee was a little sweet, and I tasted cream in it. I normally took it black.

“So, what about the last room?”

“Oh, that's a guest bedroom. It also doubles as a room for the security detail, when such a detail is deemed appropriate.”

I took another, longer sip of coffee. That seemed to follow, but it didn't really solve the mystery. “Yeah, I can sort of see that from the hitman suits in the closet, but why can't I just use that room until we get another one set up? Sleep in that bed?”

The doc smirked. “Trust me, you don't actually want to sleep in that bed; the room is the draftiest one in the house, and my couch is much more comfortable.”

So she was hiding something, without trying to hide something.

The doc slid a plate of Oreo's across the table; I took one and nibbled. Seemed like they could use some milk, but I wasn't sure I trusted her fridge – she seemed the type to spend long hours away from home.

My brain lurched, coiled and restless.

“So anyway, the Television gets satellite, over a hundred channels, and the house is wired for internet, with the computer in the den. We can get you a laptop, and you'll probably need a new phone... which room did you say you picked, again?”

“I didn't, but the second door.”

“Alright. I'm not a fan of putting another television in this old house, but I've no problem with movies upstairs and the like. If you eat anywhere but the kitchen, please make sure to clean it up; the area has a bit of a mouse problem, and I don't want them back.”

“Got it.”

“Loud music is a problem, hm, maybe we should install some soundproofing, oh and stay out of the basement.”

Of course. “What's in the basement, oh mad scientist?”

“Just my real office, and a bit of a lab. There is a secondary door with a code lock, but I'm fairly sure if you want to you can get in. Just be aware that you aren't cleared to see anything in there, and violating this rule will be the mother of all bad ideas.”

All that delivered in the same voice she used when talking about her couch, as if she didn't care less.

“So, why are you doing this, doc? Why take me in at all? I mean, what's in it for you?”

She grinned. “Took you long enough. I'll tell you the absolute truth; I intend to study you. Completely non-invasive of course, but your DNA may hold the key to understanding several of the mysteries of mutation science currently has. You literally adapt somehow to circumstance or threats and do it without ingesting other DNA or any known delivery method. You switch rapidly with no hint of GSD, at least so far, and seem to know exactly what to do with your power as soon as it changes; for the rest of us even that basic level of mastery can take years.”

Well, the doc was telling the truth as she saw it; I believed her. I just KNEW she was. She leaned back and continued. “Knowing how you do what you do can help the rest of us understand how we do what we do. But there is another reason; you seem to suffer from an enhanced form of aggression, and studying that may lead to common genetic links in mutant psychological disorders.”

I didn't feel like my aggression was enhanced. Was it? I mean, I didn't go out of my way looking for faces to break; they just popped up in front of me, like moronic whack-a-moles. “I don't think I'm more aggressive than normal for humanity.”

The doc bobbed her head, once, decisively. “That may be true, I don't have any evidence of that yet. If it isn't true, then that still might give me some ideas on where to look,” She reached across and grabbed my hands. “I've been a researcher for years, and my instincts are telling me you're a missing link; someone that can prove or disprove theories scientists have been posing on the nature of mutation and even biology in general. That makes you very important, and of course, I want a crack at you first.”

She made a point of meeting my eyes. “However, beyond all that... well I kind of like you, and I think we could be friends if the person I've seen so far is who you are. I'll even give up my swinging bachelorette lifestyle to make sure you don't go into the foster system.”

Well, I'd wanted honest. The mix of self-interest and goals she wanted me for was as honest as it got. “Good enough. You keep being that honest with me, and we'll have no problems.”

That... came out wrong. But still, the Doc smiled as if I'd given her a declaration of true love, and stood up.

“And on that note, I'm going to hit the hay. I'm still jet-lagged, and your appointment at Whateley just came through – for tomorrow. Which means we are going to need to fly again in order to make it.” The doc trailed off a bit, muttering something about names I didn't recognize. None of it sounded very flattering.

I finished off my coffee; I wasn't really feeling tired, but I'd need to sleep too if we were commuting like that again. I'd also need more cigarettes.

The doc paused at the door. “Oh, there is something else you should know, another reason why I took you in and the foster system is a bad idea.”

There it was, the other shoe. Or was that the third shoe? “Yeah?”

“Omega Man took an interest in you after your fight. He all but commanded us to 'take good care of you' in his own words. So the current theory is, he will be watching. So leaving you in the foster system could lead to... unpleasantness. So could making you disappear in a testing facility.” She spread her hands. “Welcome to the compromise.”

Well, that was more than a little dangerous. “Can he find you?”

Doc grinned again. “Oh my yes. We want him to see we are treating you well after all, otherwise what would be the point? Until you're ready for round two it's best to make sure he has no complaints. Anyway, I'm off to bed. Try not to break anything!”

And she vanished up the stairs while I was still working around that. The government was actually afraid of the guy? They needed me to take him out? I mean, I was willing for round two, but I wasn't ready yet; until I figured out what new power this form held until I got the voice to respond to me, I wasn't going to be winning anything.

But maybe soon.

How was I supposed to sleep knowing a dude who could irradiate cities could be watching me?