Months Ago...

She was lying in a pool of her own blood.

Jubilation Lee couldn't be sure from where exactly she was bleeding, not when every muscle in her body burned, not when her every bone ached, not when it felt as though her skin itself was on fire.

The cold and sterile room she found herself in was dark, or so it seemed.  Her right eye was swollen shut, a mass of bruised and purpled flesh, throbbing to an irregular beat, her left eye simply refused too open, blinding her from the world.

She tried to move, every now and then, the smallest twitches the only thing her broken body could muster.  Her hands and feet were painfully tied together, her wrists and ankles held secure by plastic bindings, the harsh material digging deep into her flesh.  She couldn't feel her fingers, the circulation to her didgets now minimal at best, at least three of them were broken.

She didn't bother trying to count how many of her ribs were the same.

With the exception of a random cough, one that shook her small and fragile frame, she made not a sound as she was left to linger in her own, bodily fluids.  She remained tight lipped in the darkness, a stubborn cut to her jaw even though her every nerve demanded that she scream.  She had done enough of that, she had given them all the satisfaction they would receive, they had heard enough pain escape her lungs while they had savagely beaten her too a pulp.

Punishment for trying to escape, punishment for fifty yards of defiance, fifty yards of freedom.  Fifty yards and they had left her like this, battered and broken, prone and helpless in her own waste.

Fifty yards, and it was worth every bruise.

A battered bone for every yard of freedom.

She heard the sound, in some distant part of her mind, the opening of the heavy door that lead to her chambers.  She saw the light, through both swollen and blotted eyelids, dimly illumining her dank, cold and terrifying world.  She heard the shouts and curses coming from some far and distant place, some rage unleashed from another throat.

She felt the hands about her shoulders, large and strong, pulling her from her own muck and igniting a fresh wave of pain throughout her entire body.  She clenched her stubborn jaw so the cry that tried to escape her lungs barely made a mumble past her dry and broken mouth.

She felt the cold liquid brought too her lips, the cool yet stinging touch of sweat water brought too her jaw, she felt the temptation rise up from deep within her to drink her fill.  Too drink the life giving liquid too the very last drop.

She felt her body shaking from the pain.

She felt herself lash out, in some far and distant way, disregarding the agony that gripped her, launching forward for one last yard of freedom.  Her head jerked forward like a viper, her teeth both bared and sharp; there was a cry of pain as Jubilation Lee made one last act of defiance, as her mouth filled with the blood of another, as she viciously bit the hand that fed her...

Now...

"It's mah fault isn't it?"

Paige Guthrie asked as quietly as she could, almost hoping that she wouldn't be heard.  It had been two days now, two days since Jean Grey had delivered her dire news, two days since they had all learned the truth, two days, and only now had she found the nerve too voice aloud the guilt that she was feeling.  The guilt her friends insisted wasn't hers.

She couldn't help but feel ashamed that it had taken so long.

Was it really so bad?

Was it really so bad that she didn't want to die?

Her shoulders shuddered even though it wasn't cold; it never was inside the sealed environment that was the Danger Grotto.  It was a lot like herself, she felt, this place where she and her former class mates used to train, where they would prepare for a future that never came.  It was alive, a vibrant mass of greens and blues, of trees and rivers, a home to the many animals that frolicked through the branches high above.  For all intents and purposes it was a tiny pocket of the wild; it was what it was; only it truly wasn't.

It wasn't real, it wasn't wild and free, it was built by man and sealed off within a bubble, a bubble that was not its own.  It was one thing in its heart, and something else entirely outside of it.

In her heart, Paige Guthrie was herself, in her soul, she was herself, but the body she resided in, the face she showed to the outside world, the bubble she was nestled within, that was something else entirely.

This was her soul, but it was not her body, she had stolen it, she had slipped into it, she had taken it from Jonathon Starsmore.

Now she didn't know how to give it back, regardless of the dire consequences of not doing so.

Paige Guthrie opened her eyes and raised her head, looking at the man sat opposite.  Neither had said anything for the longest time, both cross legged on the grass, the wildlife of the Danger Grotto leaving them in peace.  Neither had said anything for a good long while, or so it felt, until Paige had chosen too break the silence.

Gateway had chosen not to answer.

She didn't really expect him too, in all the time she had known the short, Aborigine Mutant, she had only ever heard him mutter a single word.  In all the time since, and all the time before, his council had been his own.  A private man with private motives, intentions that could not be fathomed.

His thin chest rose and fell, his wispy white beard gently moved in the breeze, his eyes did not open.  Paige had raised her head and asked her question, a question she had not dared to ask any other, a question he did not answer. 

Paige was almost glad he didn't, even if she did herself.

"It is mah fault..." once again she whispered quietly, levelling the accusation at herself.  An accusation that came just in time for a fresh blaze of pain too fire through her mind, a lighting storm in her cortex, a flash of agony that seized her every muscle.  It quickly passed, as it always did, a thunder strike of white hot misery to remind her of the damage her very presence caused.

She was killing this body, the form of Jonathon Starsmore; she had been since the day she died.  She had been since the moment she had begun too share his mind with her own, she had been since she had seized upon a single instinct and done what she had too in order to survive.

She just didn't want to do die, and now she hated herself because of it.

"Paige..."

She felt the comforting hand on her shoulder and the voice of a friend that cut through the fading pain.  She knew who it was long before she opened her eyes and saw his face, one covered with a mask of concern; it was one of the most honest faces she had ever known.  It was a face she was always glad to see.

Everett Thomas, possibly the only student in the world who had studied as hard as she did, even if they did have different goals in life.

"Are you ok?" he asked, the mask of concern not fading, despite a sincere smile that was added to his features.  He offered her his hand to help her up, a friend trapped in the body of another, it was a hand she gladly took.

"Ah'm fine..." she insisted, graciously accepting his help and pulling herself up to her feet, still not used to the fact that the body she was now in, the body of Jonathon Starsmore, was a good inch or two taller than Everett "...just...Y'all know...headaches and all".

“I know…” Everett nodded, taking a moment to ensure that Paige was steady on her feet before letting go of her hand “…Jono was getting them a lot too”.

“Ah can imagine…” Paige sighed, the final moments of her flash migraine fading into memory “…ah must be the worst tenant ever”.

“Maybe” Everett smiled “But I’m sure you’re one Jono would gladly have”.

“Y’all think?” she asked quietly.

“I know” the young man answered sombrely.

“Ah guess…” Paige began to agree before she caught sight of what her friend was wearing.  She hadn’t quite realised it at first, her senses caught in the grip of pain, but now she could clearly see that Everett had not arrived in casual attire.  She recognised the suit he was wearing, it was impossible for her too mistake, the dark read tone of the uniform they had all been issued with what now felt like so long ago.  The uniform of Generation X.

“Oh, ah’m sorry…” Paige smiled despite herself “…have ah travelled back in time as well?”

“I’m afraid not…” Everett laughed, rotating his shoulders in a suit that seemed to be a little too small “…I had to dig this thing out of Mothballs; Monet says its time for us to suit up”.

“Ah don’t understand…” Paige felt perplexed “…for what?”

“What do you think?” Everett tightly clasped her shoulder with his hand.

One Hour Later...

Sometimes, life just rocked.

Not as often as it should do, but often enough.  Every now and then something would roll along to remind Jubilation Lee just how awesome her life was.  Being unofficially adopted by the X-Men?  Incredible!!  Hanging out with a whole bunch of Mutant Misfits like herself?  Spectacular!!  Flying a multi-million dollar private jet...?

Priceless!!

And to think, a few weeks ago she spent all her time and effort scheming her way into the driving seat of a Jeep.  A Jeep!!  The dark haired girl sighed at herself as the high altitude scenery passed by the cockpit windows.  'Jeep Driving Obsessed Jubilation Lee' was so lame in comparison to 'Private Jet Flying Jubilation Lee'.  She just couldn't help but become increasingly awesome with each passing day, it was a curse.

"You totally rock by the way" Jubilation voiced aloud in no uncertain terms, directing the compliment to her co-pilot. 

She used the term 'co-pilot' loosely in her mind since the Private Jet in question belonged to the young woman next too her and, unlike everyone else on board, she could fly under her own power.  If Jubilation was to suddenly shift from being totally awesome to being totally lame, sending the multi-million dollar private jet plummeting suicidaly towards the ground, Monet St. Croix wouldn't have a great deal too be worried about.

On the other hand, Jubilation Lee herself would be pretty much screwed, so she always strived to make sure that she remained 'totally awesome'.

For her part Monet St. Croix raised half a brow at the unexpected compliment, a slight smile creasing the side of her face that young Jubilation couldn't see.

"Well, thank you" Monet answered with her polite and clipped manner, opening her eyes for the first time in hours.  The dark skinned young woman had been on the verge of pleasant sleep since the aerial journey had begun, entrusting the young, would be pilot at her side with not only her exceptionally expensive possession, but also with the lives of all those on board.

She needed time too think, she had wanted time to think, trying to decide, even at this late hour, if the course of action she was about too propose was the correct one.  It was a feeling she did not enjoy, it was a feeling to be kept locked up and out of sight of all those who knew her, the feeling of uncertainty.  She had no room for it now, she could not afford it too be a luxury, and yet, such frail and human traits were difficult too discard.

She would have to work on that.

Jubilations 'enthusiastic' offers to take the pilots seat had inadvertently given the young woman the time she would need to put her final doubts to rest, a few hours of quite contemplation, such as it was in the company of Jubilation Lee.

"You know..." Jubilation made a sideways glance at Monet St. Croix beside her, making a show of reading the navigational dials "...this could be where you compliment me...?"

"Ah, yes..." the slight smile that formed on the pristine features of Monet St. Croix, one that remained out of view of young Ms. Jubilation Lee, became a little wider.

"My apologises, I am quite certain you...'rock' as well" Monet concluded.

"I do, don't I?" Jubilation grinned in no uncertain terms, feeling increasingly proud of herself.

"But you know..." Jubilation began again, the dark haired mutant shifting her view between the largely empty, high altitude, outside world and the young woman beside her.  A young woman that, not so long ago, she had served with on the X-Men.

Not the greatest chapter in either of their lives.

"Yes?" Monet raised a questioning brow.

"It really sucks that Jean couldn't come up with a solution," Jubilation voiced the opinion that had been hovering around her head for a while. Granted, young Ms. Lee, much like all of them, didn't exactly know yet where Monet planned on taking them, the whole thing was being kept 'hush, hush' and 'super secret', but she knew what it was about.  She knew it had something to do with Paige Guthrie being trapped in the body of Jonathon Starsmore.

She was pretty certain that it was something Jean 'most awesome telepath on the planet' Grey could help with.

"Yes, well..." Monet began, repressing a small sigh as she closed her eyes, her refined features becoming entirely neutral.

"I am...disappointed..." the dark skinned, young mutant had opted to pause, choosing not to use the word 'thankful' in present company.  As capable as Jean Grey was, her involvement was not something that she was intent on actively pursuing.

"But the affairs on Muir Island have the X-Men occupied with their own problems..." she calmly summed up the current crisis that had recently struck the Scottish Island "...we will have to make do without her assistance".

"I guess so" young Ms. Jubilation Lee made a pretence of a sigh, the dark haired young mutant nonchalantly looking out the window at the passing clouds.

"Still, if she were here..." for once in her life young Ms. Jubilation Lee repressed a co spiritual grin from crossing her features, the dark haired mutant exercising every bit of will power that she could too remain nonplussed.

"She coulda pointed out that I’ve never actually flown a real plane…"

To her credit, the look of shock that overtook the refined features of Monet St. Croix was purely momentary.

Undisclosed Location...

Honestly, the place was...smaller than she thought it would be.

Paige wasn't sure what to expect, Monet's insistence that this is where they needed too go was what had driven them this far, a promise that all would be explained upon arrival.  Monet had asked for patience, which was easier for some too give than others, and now, not to sound ungrateful, but with all the secrecy, Paige had expected something... more.

In retrospect, Paige thought too herself as the small group entered the lobby, the reception was large enough, the room easily capable of housing well over a hundred people, and yet it had little too stand in awe of.  The angles were sharp, the furnishings spartan and only a single man was there to greet them, an elderly fellow with thinning hair and disinterested eyes, watching them without pause from behind his desk.

With the exception of the two guards, each adorned in suits, that had greeted them without emotion just outside, there was not another soul, no-one but Monet and her companions.  Nothing that suggested a solution too her own, life or death dilemma.

Paige only realised that Monet had come too a sudden stop, long before reaching the disinterested, elderly man at his desk, after she barely avoided walking into her.  With a swift side step that was clumsier than she was used too, the body of Jonathon Starsmore far more ungainly than her own, she looked to her friends in puzzlement.

"Wow M..." Jubilation was predictably the first one to speak up, the short mutant in a yellow trench coat blowing and bursting a bubble with her gum "...this is like, awesome squared".  Sarcasm was secondary nature to young Ms. Lee.

"Patience" Monet sighed, looking too the elderly man with a small nod before turning to the others.  She stood with hands folded behind her back, her expression serious, almost cold as she looked each one of them in the eye.

"What I am about to tell you..." the dark skinned young woman begin, making sure she had each of their attentions.

"What I am about to show you...can not be repeated, can not be spoken of, beyond these walls.  Understood?" she questioned.

Paige looked to the others, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the turn this was taking.  Jubilee, much more comfortable in her old, dark red and gold uniform than Everett was, merely shrugged.  Angelo did likewise, at least he did after trying to brush off little Molly, the girl in a cat eared hat pulling on his sleeve impatiently, trying to point out something at his feet.

Everett was the only one to speak.

"If this is something that can help Paige and Jonathon..." the thoughtful young man put his thoughts in order "...then I’m sure we can agree to that".

"Good..." Monet almost seemed to relax, her shoulders becoming a little less tight, her expression, however, no less serious.

"Because you shouldn't really be here" Monet admitted moments before five members of the sextet almost lost their footing. 

The noise was incredible; a great cracking of thunder as the floor beneath their feet dramatically broke and shifted.  The sudden shift in movement did not end instantaneously, not as the air filled with the roar of grinding gears and shifting metal, of marble scraping stone, as the very ground they stood upon, a great circler disk, began to descend.

"Holy Monkey Nuts!!" Jubilation Lee declared as the solid disk of marble, a circler platform some twenty metres in diameter, gradually plunged downwards.  The lobby they had been standing in slowly disappeared above them, and entirely different world opened up below them.

Paige instinctively stepped back from the edge, the group as a whole moving closer together at the centre of the giant, marble disk, as it slowly descended.  The world far below them was as vast as Paige could see, a hanger bay of truly massive proportions, all manner of transports, planes, trucks and cars littering its surface, all manner of people milling around in some mad, sweeping task.

It was a world buried deep beneath the world, and Paige suspected that this was just the beginning.

"I like your basement..." Angelo found the only words he could think of too explain it "...I wouldn't want to clean it".

"This is hardly mine" Monet explained calmly, seemingly oblivious to the giant disk of marble they were slowly descending upon, and the barely organised chaos that was taking place far below them.

"Not big enough huh?" Jubilation’s sense of sarcasm never failed her.

"This installation is the headquarters for a recently established United Nations Task Force, one instigated by men such as my Father... and overseen by those such as myself..." Monet calmly continued, regaining the attention of her former class mates.  The attention of everyone, that is, except young Molly Hayes, the girl still fascinated by something on the floor.

Molly, growing tired with Angelo and his indifference to her insistent pointing, instead turned to Jubilation.  She pulled harshly on her arm, pointing at what had caught her interest; Jubilation in turn humoured the girl with a quick look.

It didn't take long to see what it was, the fine line carving that was engraved across the entirety of the marble platform they were standing on.  It was a symbol, difficult too recognise at first due too its size, and yet, she knew she had seen it before.  Somewhere she hadn't had time to remember it clearly, somewhere that she didn't want to see again.

"This is..." Monet began.

"BYRON!!" Jubilation harshly interrupted.

The coffee tasted like powdered crap, which was proving to be the highlight of her day.  Karen Barnes was in a fowl mood, which was not unusual, but today was worse than usual.  That was always the case when she knew it was going to be a bad day before she even woke up in the morning.

God Damn Teenagers would be the death of her.

She wasn't the only one enjoying a bad temperament today, that Karen made damn sure of.  If she was going to be a pissy mood then everyone she encountered was going to be as well, she had a knack for it, making sure the rest of the world joined in with her misery.  Petty?  Yes, perhaps, but it made her feel a little better.

She stood at the very centre of Red One, the nerve centre of the Facility, glaring with unconcealed irritation at the various monitors that surrounded her station.  Her jet black hair was pulled back harshly, her tie hung loosely, her suit fit badly, babysitting the black projects of a dead Agency just wasn't sitting well with her.

Damn that witch for recommending her to the post!!

None of her subordinates were making eye contact, which was probably the best decision they would make all day.  Instead they remained focused on their stations, pencil pusher guardsmen, security men that had never lifted a gun, monitor watchers all.  Everyone had too be good for something Karen supposed, but you just couldn't beat shooting a threat in the head until it went away.

Problems were easier to solve that way.

The former Agent of SHIELD muttered various obscenities as she rubbed her forehead, an increasingly familiar sense of nausea washing over her.  The middle aged woman knew exactly what it was, and despised there was nothing she could do about it.

"She's dreaming again isn't she!?!" Karen snapped, her dark eyes flashing at the subordinate responsible for monitoring the Facilities final level.

"Yes Sir" the petite girl with red hair answered, her own suit pristine in every way "should I increase her sedative?"

"Do me a favour..." Karen snapped again, grimacing as she downed a mouthful of her powdered crap "...and just shoot the sodding cow!"

"Sir?" the petite red head, whose name Karen never intended to learn nervously questioned.

"Alright, fine!" Karen waved an irritable hand "yes, increase the sedative, knock her out, kill her, whatever, just stop her dreaming".

"Yes sir" the red head nodded, returning to her monitor.

Karen scowled, chocking back another mouthful of powdered crap as her dark eyes found their way to the real source of her irritation, the monitors displaying the VIP's of the day.  As if the high and mighty St. Croix wasn't bad enough on her own, she had brought the Brat Pack with her.  Cleared or not, they would be having words about this later.  They always did.

"I've already got one bitch looking to shit in my cereal today as it is..."

"WHAT THE HELL MONET!?!"

Jubilation Lee was shouting, not caring if anyone else could hear them as they continued to descend on the giant marble disk, one that was engraved with the insignia of the Byron Agency.  She was pissed, a flash of anger tearing through her gut and erupting out her mouth, a firestorm of instant rage that tore through her mind.  It was one that had been born from weeks of torture and confinement, of betrayal and misery, all of which was at the hands of the Byron Agency.

It was an instant rage that demanded that she lash out; striking the shoulder of Monet St. Croix with a wicked slap.  In retrospect she could have struck a brick wall, a swift wave of agony gripping her fingers as they whipped across Monet's invulnerable frame.  She didn't care, she barely even noticed it.

Just as she barely noticed Everett Thomas trying to hold her back.

"I MEAN, WHAT THE HELL!?!" she demanded to know, unable to understand why Monet would bring them here, why she would have, why she would want, any part with the Byron’s, why she could betray them to the very people who had raped them body and soul!!

"Jubilation, please..." Monet spoke both carefully and calmly, apparently entirely unfazed by the other young women’s physical attack, even her dark crimson uniform was un-scuffed.  "This is not what you think..." 

"THE HELL IT ISN'T!!" Jubilation glared at Monet St. Croix with entirely unveiled hostility.

"This isn't the Byron Agency!!" Monet's tone was suddenly sharp, cutting through the very air itself.  "Stop being such a child and listen to me!!"

Jubilation paused for but a moment, her hostility no less open, although Everett felt he need not hold her back so much.

"This is the Byron Trust, a poor choice in name perhaps, but it was not my decision" Monet sharply sighed, straightening out her dark crimson uniform with a tug.  Satisfied that Jubilation would be silent for the moment, and that the others were more receptive too listening, she continued.

"When the Byron Agency collapsed, it's installations around the world did not simply vanish, it's black projects did not disappear and those that were still imprisoned were not suddenly set free" Monet composed herself, explaining the situation as clearly as she could, the circular platform they stood atop continuing its slow decent.

"While the X-Men were more than happy too bludgeon their enemies into submission, they clearly had little interest in cleaning up the mess.  Byron collapsed after the hierarchy was taken into custody, but the fallout of its actions were not instantly resolved.  The Byron Trust is a United Nations Taskforce with the simple mandate of locating, cataloguing and, if need be, destroying all Byron Agency Facilities and Projects that infringed on Human and/or Mutant rights".

She paused, reading the reactions of her classmates, Jubilations continued too be hostile.  The shorter Mutant didn't want to be here, Monet could understand, unfortunately she did not have the time too sympathise.  She would just have to deal with her anger.

Just like everyone else involved with Byron would.

"This entire facility was once theirs, now it serves our purposes; this is the heart of the Byron Trust.  Everything is relocated here, every sin and every dark project, all too be studied and dismantled both safely and securely.  The Byron Agency left a trail of human misery across the entire planet; we are simply cleaning it up".

Monet sighed, resisting the building urge to pinch the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb.

"There are nine levels in all.  One for transportation and storage, two for imprisonment and confinement, two for housing and leisure, four for research, study and development.  I will be taking Paige too Level Seven, where I may be able to solve her problem.  The rest of you, for today only, have been granted full access too this facility.  You may observe any department you desire, but you can not, under any circumstances, interfere".

Monet paused for a final time, looking each of them in the eye, Jubilation in particular.

"To be involved with me is to be involved with this, if, after today, you are not comfortable with that...then it's time for you too leave".

The Byron Trust, Level Seven, R&D.4…

Any thoughts Paige Guthrie had of this installation being small had long since been washed away. 

At first she had tried to burn the layout of the facility too memory, as she often did, making a mental note of every corridor Monet St. Croix lead her down, of every room they passed, but such efforts proved to be in vain.  It was not due too some failing on her part, rather, it was her curiosity that got the better of her; it was her inquisitive nature that distracted her.

It was the sense of wonder this place awakened in her.

Paige Guthrie did not study day and night in some mad quest to better her eventual grades, it wasn't even, at least not only, her desire to join the vaulted X-Men, it was instead her need to learn.  It was her passion to learn, too absorb everything she encountered, too understand the world around her.  Too use the intelligence that God had seen fit too grant her.

Ambition and curiosity, these were the traits that pushed her to aspire too ever greater heights.  There was not much here, deep underground while she was trapped in a body that was not her own, that could serve to further her grand ambitions...but there was plenty to spark her curiosity.

Enough to keep her occupied for a lifetime.

None of which she could pause to linger on.

All of which was tainted with blood...

Paige forced herself to remember that as they passed each room, watching the technicians and doctors as they deconstructed and studied marvels both mechanical and biological.  Breakthroughs in medical science, vast strides in the world of techno-organics, genuine attempts at creating viable Artificial Intelligence, all of it the brainchild of a corrupt establishment, the legacy of the blood stained Byron Agency.

Breakthroughs in Science for the benefit of Mankind...all at the cost of its Humanity.  Science without a conscience.  Bad Medicine.

"Paige dear..."

The young woman trapped in the body of another quietly berated herself as the refined tones of Monet St. Croix cut through her musings.  She had been caught lingering, her eye too easily distracted by the bright corridors and the technical marvels that lay just beyond the windows on either side of her.  She had fallen behind her still striding guide, forced to quicken her pace to catch up.

"...we are on a time limit" Monet saw fit to remind her former classmate, her gaze not shifting from the path right in front of them, her chin held high, all others they encountered parting to let her through.  She was a master of this place, and everyone knew it, and Paige suspected that Monet enjoyed it.

"Ah’m sorry..." Paige apologised, nodding politely towards everyone who had seen fit too step aside for the two.

"It's just...ah have never seen anythin' like this before..." Paige found her head involuntarily turning as they passed a room housing the remains of a disassembled Sentinel.

"This place is...amazing..." she admitted.

"I'm sure it seems that way" Monet commented dryly, her features becoming sharper, her gaze never shifting too the rooms on either side of them as they passed.

"Ah'm sorry..." Paige hastily apologised, knowing that much of the blood these advancements had been tainted with belonged too her friends "...ah just..."

She stopped the moment Monet raised a sharp hand as they walked, the sudden gesture clearly asking for an end too the discussion.

"It's fine Paige..." Monet's tone had become both short and terse, the tightness in her shoulders clear for all too see "...all things are a matter of perspective".

"Ah guess..." Paige nodded a little, the young woman feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

"Ah'm surprised y’all want to be here at all..." Paige wondered quietly before she could stop herself, what would bring anyone to return too a place that had caused them so much pain and misery?

She was caught off guard as Monet came too a sudden stop for a second time that day, making several strides before realising that she walked alone.  Paige turned in time too see the shoulders of Monet St. Croix tighten before the dark skinned, young woman inhaled deeply.  A moment later she looked her in the eye, her own appearing as though they had been carved from frozen stone.

"'Want' and 'need' are not the same" Monet explained, her tone cold and hard.

"What was done to me in a place like this was inhumane and unforgivable, they tore me apart and stripped me down.  They defiled my body and my nature in every way they could, they stole my very self and made a freakish monstrosity in my image..."

Monet paused for a moment, composing herself as best she could, a sense of a rage that was locked up deep inside seeping too the surface.  It was palatable, a foul stigma in the air.

"Heaven help me, there are times I would burn this place to the ground, too eradicate everything that was stolen from me.  There are times I want to do this, but I won't..."

With each passing word Monet grew visibly calmer, much too Paige's surprise, as the young telepath slowly put the beast back in its box, far away from the light of day.  Her manner returned too composed, her features resolute, her dignity undiminished.

"What I want and what I need are not the same, or should I say, what the world will need.  Advancements have been made, it can not be undone.  Yes, my body and mind were violated too achieve them, and I assure you, that I will most certainly not forget...but I will be Damned if the only ones to benefit from that is them!!"

The Byron Trust, Level 8, Imprisonment and Confinement.1…

Everett Thomas found himself feeling sick.

Monet's offer for all of them too explore the Byron Trust Facility had been taken up with varying degrees of enthusiasm.  Jubilation wanted to be alone, Angelo had opted to follow his more immediate needs, searching out the cafeteria, Molly had quickly followed.  Everett, on the other hand, had found his way here.

Why exactly, he wasn't sure.  Perhaps he had to see it for himself, just once, the place that lay deep underground, on level eight of nine, the detainment centre.  The place in which his friends had been imprisoned, where they had been tortured.  The place in which they had suffered immensely...and he had been far too oblivious too help them.

The cells were empty now, vacant of even furniture, dozens of rooms stretching as far as the eye could see.  The walls were white and sterile, the floors were clean and spotless, they had been sanitised, each and every one, but the young man was not fooled.

He could see the truth, as he stood outside one cell, staring through the reinforced glass at the vacant room.  In his minds eye he could see the prisoners that had been trapped here, faded auras of long lost mutants, whispers of vanished souls.  He could see the suffering in their final moments; he could see the torment of their final deeds.

He could see the blood and sin that could not be scrubbed clean by any kind of sanitizer.

He felt sick and entirely failed to understand how one man could disregard another so entirely.  He would never understand the base cruelty others would gladly fall too, he couldn't understand it, and he prayed to God that he never would.

One thing was for certain, he would certainly never forgive it...

The Byron Trust, Level Seven, R&D.4…

Her nose was bleeding again, only now it showed no signs of stopping.

Paige had a handkerchief in hand, holding it too her nose in an effort to stem the tide of blood that threatened to coat her chin at any moment.  The headache that accompanied it was not as intense as the ones before, and yet it lingered, a throbbing at the very centre of her mind, one that numbed her senses and increasingly muffled the world around her.

After some quite consideration, Monet St. Croix had opted not too inform Paige Guthrie of her bloodshot eyes.  The orbs of Jonathon Starsmore blotted with a harsh shade of red in each corner, a stark contrast too the increasingly pale nature of the bodies skin.

Monet quietly cursed herself as the two of them continued to stride down the corridor, forever onwards towards their final destination, the final possible solution to saving both her former class mates.  She cursed herself for taking so long too make these arrangements...she did, however, curse those responsible for making it so, all the more viciously.

How her Father could stand the dalliances and idiocies of politicians and administrators was beyond her.  It was a skill set, and a patience, he could wield far more nimbly than herself.

She could only hope that the wasted time would not result in a wasted life.

No, Monet berated herself; there was no need for hope.  She would succeed, she was Monet St. Croix, she would prevail, it wasn't in her nature to except less.

As Paige lost a step, the body of Jonathon Starsmore stumbling, Monet immediately grabbed her arm, the powerful limbs of the oldest of the St. Croix sisters supporting her former class mate with ease.

"Relax Paige..." Monet assured Paige Guthrie in quite tones, almost carrying her to the double doors that appeared before them "...we're here".

Paige blinked several times, her vision ever more hazy, the shapes and colours of the world around her increasingly blurred.  She saw the doors and how they slid open, she saw how the corridor came to an end on either side of them, she saw no other way but forward.  This was the end of the line, this is where Monet was hiding her ace in hole, this is where she had hidden her solution.

This was where Paige would find the means to save the life of Jonathon Starsmore, a man she herself was killing.

She stumbled at first, as Monet released her arm too see too some other need, and yet she found her footing.  Even with her vision blurred and senses dulled, even with the endless thumping at the very centre of her mind, she found her footing and stumbled forward, ever deeper into the room.

It was cold in here, making her skin shiver and lungs shake with every breadth, the very air itself visible before her.  The walls were white, almost blinding her with their glare, like the floor beneath her feet, one being stained by the trail of blood drops being left from her nose, a crimson map of where she had been.

"You're problem is a serious one..."

Paige could hear Monet explain from some place behind her, the tone of the dark skinned young woman somehow distracted.  She looked to either side of her as she walked, her bloodshot eyes falling upon the twin rows of metallic beds running symmetrically with one another.  One pair, two pairs, three...all of them were cold and sterile, all of them were dead, all of them were shrouded with a stark white blanket, hiding something from sight.

Something that could be human.

Something that could be...something else...

"...but not complicated".

The voice of Monet St. Croix was further away now, distant and unreal as Paige continued onwards, drawn to the very end of the row.  She was drawn to the very last bed, the very last cold and metallic cot, drawn to the stiff an lifeless form beneath that featureless shroud.

For a moment her nose stopped bleeding, for a moment the hammering in her mind grew dim, for a moment the pain of a dying body subsided as she pulled the shroud away from the body before her, revealing what lay beneath.

She gasped and chocked and covered her mouth with blood stained hands as she looked at the figure laying prone before her.  One that lay in eternal silence, long dead and decayed, the skin both shrivelled and dried, the muscles both taunt and tight, the hair both white and sparse.  She gagged as she stared at the body before her, one that sported a single hole buried deep within the centre of its torso.

"Oh Lord...what have y'all done..."

She struggled to say, the very words caught in her throat by the horror of the sight.  She struggled to breadth as she looked upon the lifeless body before her, Paige Guthrie staring down through the eyes of Jonathon Starsmore...and deep into the lifeless ones of her own corpse.

"WHAT HAVE Y'ALL DONE!?!"

The Byron Trust, Level 8, Imprisonment and Confinement.1…

Everett Thomas noticed that the number of security personal increased the deeper he descended into the detainment centre.  Ordinarily he wouldn't find this odd, prisoners needed guards after all, and the men and woman he passed, all equipped with body armour and grim expressions, could be nothing else, but in the here and now, they seemed out of place.  The cells were empty, the prison was vacant, those who had been unfortunate enough too be held captive here had been freed.

The prisoners were gone, and yet the guards remained...all of them armed for bear.

There was someone down here, of that he was now certain.  He didn't need the suspicious glances of the odd scowl of the guards he passed too tell him that.  He didn't need the feeling of oppression that grew with every step, the feeling of trepidation running up his spine; he didn't need any of this.  He could feel it, an aura granted to him by his very birth reaching out and finding the sole remaining prisoner.

One last man to be guarded.

Everett came to a stop as he came upon the final cell, staring through the reinforced glass that separated the prisoner from the world.  It was not the den of horror it had once been, a single bed with a table and chair for furniture.  A room furnished for, and occupied by, only one.

One who seemed to be just as surprised to see the young man in question as he was to be found.

"Well now..."

The man in question spoke up, shifting from thoughtful contemplation too sitting on his bed.  The hint of a smile almost broke his tired features, the posture of the middle aged man both slumped and defeated, his eyes much older than they had ever been.

Everett Thomas struggled to find words and yet none would come, his mind struggling to grasp how quickly the world could change, how the man before him could be the man he had once known.

A man he had respected.

Sean Cassidy.

The Banshee. 

"...I cannie say I was expecting to see ye this morning?"