The walk to the diner was a pleasant one. But I couldn't escape the feeling of impending doom. Nothing small or vague. A real feeling of great specific doom, which I was walking towards. I shrugged.

My obligations lay ahead of me, so ahead of me I would go. Even towards the almost overwhelming feeling. It was crazy though, I'd never felt the like before.

For all of that, the new night was pleasant, not quite cold enough to be brutal, but getting into jacket temperatures. The birds and insects were silent. For that matter even the dogs that everyone seemed to have were silent, and not a few of them were actually in hiding. Odd, but it didn't seem to affect the people at all.

It seemed everyone was out enjoying the nice weather, doing errands and chores before it got truly cold, or just walking around to get in each others way. I couldn't tell which for sure, but to me it certainly seemed like there were more than my fair share directly in front of me. It ceased being charming and rapidly became annoying.

The growing pressure in my head wasn't making that any easier. This was far beyond a normal headache. Again, not that it mattered. Neither rain, nor heat, nor physical discomfort of any kind would keep me from my appointed rounds.

Then the diner hove into view, a faded, greasy looking place full of faded greasy looking people. The name on the place was “Bill's”, but there hadn't been a Bill here since before I was born. The current owner was a man named Mike.

I liked Mike, he was a bluff simple guy, almost as large as I was but older and with that ex-military swagger most men around here had. He also knew my father before the accident, a fact I didn't hold against him, even when he started trying to compare me to my old man.

None of that really translated to one of my favorite things – free food, but no relationship was perfect. At least he didn't try to get in the way when I escorted Penny or the other girls home. The area wasn't really that dangerous, at least not anymore.

I had myself in the door and seated in my favorite stool (the one with a view of the kitchen and the door) before Mike or Penny even recognized I was there. Standing room only tonight, but Jed and I had an understanding; he sat here in the afternoon until a half hour from Penny's shift, and if I wasn't here by then he left.

Old Jed didn't really have any place to go in the afternoons, spending most of the time chatting with his buddies at this very counter, and he loved playing seat warmer for me. As always, he got up with a nod right as I came into range, drained his coffee and left. His check would have been paid already.

I nodded back and settled in, giving a warning glare at some euro - douche haired yuppy type who thought he was going to swoop in and get my stool. He hadn't even put his cell phone up' it was still glued to his ear. He saw and paled in a most satisfying manner before going back to his call... loudly.

Luckily (for him) Mike noticed I was suddenly sitting in my usual spot.

“Vic, what'll it be?”

“The usual Mike, the usual.”

The usual was a nice large burger with lettuce and tomato, and a large plate of greasy heart clogging fries next to it. No condiments. No pickles this time, but I'll just pick them off. Only salt on the fries, and only a little.

I was well into the plate, munching away, by the time Penny had a moment to look up. She looked right to my stool, and sighed when I gave her a small wave. I couldn't hear it over all the morons shouting over each other, and euro- douche chatting over it all in my ear, but I could see it.

I ignored it with an application of will; typical night here. It took almost no time at all to finish up. A quick check of the clock revealed that Penny only had fifteen minutes left. Meal over, I stood up, and the yuppy immediately took the stool, still on his phone.

I retreated to an out of the way corner near the restrooms to wait, holding up the wall. As big as I was, most people seemed to have vision based on movement, which meant I could blend into the background if I stood still. I wasn't sure how it worked exactly, but it did.

Made it easy to see the dipshit trio arrive outside.

Now, those three were not me. So they couldn't get away with half the crap I did. As such, they couldn't really push their way through the crowd for a seat and get served. Mainly because they saw me there through the window, and also saw Mike was on duty in the kitchen. Last time they tried that, he threw them out, none too gently.

And he had saved them much pain; I had been a step slower than he had.

At any rate they were safely outside.

“Hey, almost ready to go.”

Penny had snuck up on me while I was keeping an eye out for trouble; true to her word, her apron was off and in her hand; she was a few minutes early, but a glance at the register revealed Mike and proved he didn't seem to mind. A glance into the kitchen proved that Becky, her shift replacement, was already here and ready to take over.

“Alright. I'm here. Go clock out.”

At least she didn't seem upset. Not that it mattered to me. I'd let her beat on me before, to work out her frustrations. It hadn't hurt at all. Well except for that perfect straight punch to the nose, but if I'd told her that, she'd only do it more.

Did I mention she had a mean right hook?

She came back and of course punched me in the arm when she thought I wasn't moving fast enough for her.

“Come on, I don't want to stay in here any longer than I have to. No offense Mike.”

He smiled.

“None taken.”

I couldn't blame her, work was work. We threaded the crowd and hit the door, just in time to almost literally run into a guy that was even taller than I was. He was nearly a foot taller if he was an inch, and had on some of the most dated clothes I'd seen. Detective movie stuff. I had to admit, except for the size, he made it look good.

The sense/headache/pressure I'd been feeling also turned from a muddy mental haze to a clearly focused feeling the moment my eyes made contact.

Too strong for you. Leave now.

Well that was a first. I'd heard this particular voice inside me head before; it was my sixth sense, my combat awareness. It often told me the things I needed to know in order to win fights, or what type of skills people had just by looking at them (like the time I knew that H1'er was a swordsman, even with no sword visible on him. He'd had a holdout I'd noticed somehow).

I didn't question it, I'd been told by an old marine that everyone had such a sixth sense, and to trust it. Hell, my father had said the same when I questioned him. But this was the first time it had told me that no matter what, I had no chance to win.

The first time it hadn't whispered of odds, probabilities, and fighting adaptations necessary in order to win. Just an abbreviated 'you have no chance.' Looking at the guy again, I noticed a faint greenish tinge, and an almost glow about him. When my eyes met his it was like an electric shock. I'd seen eyes like those before, on vets. Those eyes combined with that slightly off-hinged grin was a bad sign. He also had no eyebrows. I quickly steered Penny away from him.

“Excuse me sir.”

“Think nothing of it young man.”

His voice turned the whisper up a notch, but I ignored it. Just running away screaming would only bring unwanted attention. Well that and totally ruin my rep.

But we were done, to the side, and walking away from the strange guy without any confrontation at all. Which meant of course that the situation had to go to complete shit. And as with most situations, this one was ruined by an idiot.

“Hey old man, you a mutant?”

God damn it Mica, you must have a death wish. Oh well, I'll miss you, moron. I tried to hurry Penny along, but she'd taken another glance at the old guy, and was dragging her heels. She wanted to see the fireworks.

The guy looked over in mild surprise that I was sure was feigned.

“Why no young man, I'm not a mutant; why do you ask?”

“Because you look like one. You sure you aren't?”

I heard the tell-tale snap of a spring blade. That would be Daryl. Darrin was trying to look menacing, which was hard to do to a guy bigger than you, and Mica had his phone out.

His special H1 given phone which he'd made such a big deal of. The one that connected straight to the home office in Montgomery, 10 miles away.

“I'm absolutely positive young man. Again, why do you ask?”

That strangely insistent tone. The warning bell in my head was a gong the moment I heard it. He was looking for a fight too. This old guy was looking for a fight every bit as much as Mica was. I started dragging Penny along outright for a few feet, dropping any pretense whatsoever... before Darrin pulled his favorite battered piece of lead pipe.

She finally started to get the idea herself, and stopped needing to be pulled.

By then of course it was too late, I could well see how this was going to go down. This guy, mutant or not, had powers like one, and was not shy at all about using them. Even against scrubs like Mica and his two man gang. Or the police. Or humanity first. Or even the K.O.P., power armor and all. Once started, he'd fight everyone... and Mica was going to start him.

“Because we don't like mutants around here. This is a clean town, and we like to keep it that way.”

…Shit. I never hated being right more than now. A subtle move no one noticed put me in front of Penny as we walked. OK, judging by the look she just gave me, she knew. She also started walking faster, no doubt in reaction to what she called my 'fight face'. She told me I had one, though I never saw it, and that when I wore it, she knew crap was about to hit the fan. I wore it the day I broke Mica and his cronies, she told me.

“Well old man, I guess we'll have to check your credentials. The old fashioned way.”

I wasn't watching behind me, but I could almost sens the rush. Then the wave of whatever it was hit, and I found myself on the street, Penny half under me and unconscious. Right, old dude had powers, mutant or not. And he'd just cut loose with them in a crowded block of my hometown, and hurt Penny.

Right.

The voice in my head was no longer a whisper, it was a scream.

Cannot win, avoid engagement. Flee at best speed, only option for survival.

Not good enough voice. I demand options. Ways to win. Because this bastard was going down.

No way possible. To fight is to die.

Not good enough, you better work on it. 'Cause retreat ain't an option this time.

I stood up, checking Penny on the way. She was unconscious, and possibly hurt somehow. I wasn't sure what he hit us all with (radiation, microwaves gamma waves x-rays) but it could have cause permanent damage. Likely did, if the voice screaming in my head was true.

I on the other hand, felt fine. My head felt very hot but other than that, perfectly fine.

Absorption of ambient radiation 92%.

I shrugged. Whatever. My cigarettes were fine, so I took one out and lit it. The old guy was still at the door, as if he hadn't considered what his action in zapping everyone would be. Of course everyone in the diner, even big Mike, was out too. Or worse, I didn't exactly have time to check them all.

“Yo, old dude.”

He turned around, his surprise total and almost comical. I took a deep drag.

“You really shouldn't have done that. You ruined a perfectly nice night.”

The cigarette dangling where I could inhale it's relaxing vapor, my hands broke for my knives. The lock blades unlocking sounded pretty loud in the silence. I didn't want to go this far, but the voice was screaming that to have any chance at all I'd have to go lethal right from the outset. After a glance at the carnage on the street I wasn't about to argue.

He had even nailed the traffic along the street; of course that caused more than a few accidents. And a few fatalities, unless I missed my guess. Fucker didn't even look like he cared. At least I wouldn't have to worry about a car hitting Penny.

The jackass in question gave me a look that would have lifted an eyebrow if he'd have had one, staring right at the knives.

“Those didn't work for your compatriots, what makes you think they will work for you?”

Compatriots? What the hell, who talks like that nowadays?

“Not my compatriots, dude. I'm no friends of theirs. The problem is, I am friends with a few of the people you just hurt. So that makes me your problem. Talk is cheap, time to dance.”

Another drag and I was off, surprising him with my speed. I knew my knives could hurt him, the voice whispering in my head was telling me so. Death lay in hesitation, so I went right to it.

…...............................................................................................

Simon was actually impressed. Here was a hearty example of humanity; one who could absorb one of his favorite attacks. It was meant to quell resistance by trash, and perhaps it hadn't been necessary here, but it led to a rather marvelous development.

This young man was obviously a mutant of some kind. That was the only explanation. A tight burst of microwaves (as tight as he could manage at any rate) proved it. Leaning out of the way into a roll to the left, just enough to clear the most damaging effects, the young man leaped back to his feet with a speed Simon could follow, but not completely react to. So, a speedster, with a hint of an esper danger sense?

Annoying, but not as if such a combination could really hurt him.

That opinion was rapidly revised when the young man's blades came arcing in, one at his head and one at his kidney in a rather deceptive looking combat move. Had he had training? He didn't bother to dodge much, simply moving his head to make sure his eye wasn't a target; simple steel couldn't cut him, and he knew from a look that those knives were quality steel, but just steel nonetheless.

This opinion was smashed to microscopic pieces when his cheek lit up with pain, while simultaneously his side let him know it had sustained a cut as well. Simon grabbed the follow up roundhouse out of the air and threw his attacker.

A quick check to both abused places left him sighing in relief. The cut to the cheek was minor, and the potential killing blow to his kidney was far too shallow; it had barely broken skin. Another glance revealed the tell tale sheen of force fields coating both blades. Force fields strong enough to damage him at all were rare.

But if that was the best he could do, it was only a matter of time. Still, just how many abilities did this young one have? Power sets like this were rare. And the list of powers visibly displayed was in no way explaining how he was still up after eating the first blast. Surely it wasn't a matter of simple exemplar traits? Most exemplars were unable to deal with the radiation he could generate long.

He decided to up the ante.

…............................................................................................................

Alright, so the first attack had proven less decisive than I'd hoped, but done more damage than I feared I'd be able to pull off. Another blast coming, I profiled left and felt the ripple tickle my nose. My brain was on fire, my thoughts wrapped in cotton, and the voice was screaming at me to run, to run RIGHT NOW, and hope he tired of toying with me.

Again, I quashed it ruthlessly. Leaving Penny and Mike (I didn't really give a rat's ass about anyone else) to the tender mercies of this bastard just wasn't an option.

Running no longer an option. 4 minutes, 27 seconds ending in termination.

So death in under 5 minutes huh? I finished my cancer stick with a fatalistic shrug. If Mica's call had gone out, then the Knights of Purity might well be only minutes away. Perhaps I could play for time. But how did one play for time?

Well if one was me, then they attacked for all they were worth.

My right blade actually shattered on the guy this pass, the left bet a bit but held. He was sporting two new cuts though, and his attention was firmly cemented on me. He looked almost... happy.

“Time to get serious.”

I nodded, pulling another of my blades.

“I couldn't agree more.”

Handspring left, back flip right, I could feel the near hits. Whatever he was throwing was damaging me anyway. It was just lessened with the dodges. I could actually see my skin start to smoke. My dodges led him down the street, something I don't think he noticed. Or maybe he just didn't care. I was now on my last set of knives, all prior sets had melted. He did care when I flipped completely over his blasts and charged him again. Feeling the strain of a fight like this was for suckers.

A thrown knife and he was forced to break eye contact with me, or lose the eye. For all I knew his eyes were just as tough as the rest of him, but human instinct was a powerful thing to overcome. When my knife bounced off the back of his head I flipped again, somehow making it over his head just in time to keep myself lost. The voice was almost calm, like it should be.

Repeat slash in prior location.

He managed to get his hands in front of his eyes, so I drew a shallow line across his throat with one knife while checking something with another.

It seemed that repeated cuts to exactly the same spot would in fact, go deeper. Not by much, but perhaps it was enough. The voice was worth something after all.

Before I could try that again, I found myself embedded in a car somehow.

Time from beginning of engagement 4 minutes, 27 seconds.

Well shit. Now the voice in my head would just be insufferable. I tried to move, and found that I couldn't. I couldn't even feel the pain I was sure I should be feeling. If I was lucky, the old geezer would mistake me for dead. Of course I never even once suspected that would be the case. I could hear his footsteps coming closer, and I tried to at least meet death on my feet. But with a flash of heat, I was gone.

…........................................................................................

Dangerous. That young man was actually dangerous. An exemplar, a regenerator, a speedster and package deal psychic, and somehow able to absorb or negate high levels of his radiation. Not all of it, no... but just enough to be dangerous.

That last attack had actually started his fight-or-flight reactions; he was shaking from the adrenaline. He was sure the cut to his cheek would scar. The young man had actually done significant damage to him; he could count the people on that list on one hand... well two hands now. Yes, he was the sixth.

If not for that mistake in losing to grapple range, he might have won. Not that it was a mistake really, the force fields surrounding his weapons did not seem capable of being manipulated outside of those. He hadn't even tried to use them to shield himself with. Obviously untrained. Uncouth. Unlettered.

But still very honorable, in his way. He had led me away from his friends on purpose. He had tried to buy time for the authorities to arrive. And while he cared as much for trash as I did, he stood by his own. Admirable.

But now he had to be dead. Simon had grabbed the arm holding the knife to his throat (breaking it in the process) then thrown him almost straight up... a good dozen stories. His return to terra firma had all but shattered a car with the most awful screeching. Simon couldn't even see the body, it was hidden from view by the crater made in the unfortunate auto. Were they making cars less sturdy in these modern times?

Supposing he should be thorough, he approached to offer the appropriate coup-DE-gras when a form of gamma radiation washed over him. Well that answered that question; the young lad had been holding... it... somehow..?

In the shattered remnants of the car laid an enigma.

Simon was quite sure that he had thrown a young man up, and quite sure the same young man had come down again, proving he did not possess the ability to fly. But a young man was not what he he had just discovered; instead of a man of any stripe he found:

A young girl, perhaps twelve years of age, and certainly no older. Long black hair lay scattered fetchingly around her, giving her a Rapunzel like air. She was thin of frame and wrapped in a black dress adorned with lace and ribbons, just beginning to show the first small curves of womanhood. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, with only the faintest hints of a frown marring her pixie-like features. He knew that if he could coax her eyes open, he would find them a most startling shade of green.

She was also free of all the radioactive energy he had been throwing around for the last several minutes.

She was...

She was...

She was perfect.