Concrete, glass and steel, the soul of a city, and a jungle no less than
those covering 'underdeveloped' areas of the world. You want comparisons
you say? Fine, here we have a river, though one of sewage and sludge rather
than wild running waters. Skyscrapers rising high into the air instead of
majestic trees. And horns cry out, the screeches of metal beasts of burden
in place of the clear clarion calls of free roaming creatures. Ok so maybe
the smog blots out the stars most nights, but come on, a little exhaust
fumes never hurt anyone, and before you think we don't have style here, let
me be the first to welcome you to New York City.

*****

It was a hot, oppressive day in the Big Rotten Apple, and the weather had
young Evan Powell in a less than pleasant mood. He wasn't going about doing
anything important, just heading to the Bloody Mud to have a drink or
three. As he got there the building wasn't anything to write home about,
just a dingy little place on Manhattan's lower east side. It was marked
most notably by shards of window glass and a few pieces of broken neon
tubing, a discarded and broken sign lying next to a dumpster. Without
pausing he reached out and opened the door, already well used to the dingy
outer shell of his favorite bar.

Inside there was a bit of music, not much though, since Lenny stated it was
just for 'ambiance'. Oh yeah, the place had that in spades. It was only
early evening, right about 6 o'clock, and the place already had its own
crowd. From the bikers in the corner, to the old man passed out under a
table in the middle of the room. One of the bar's more notable patrons was
already in, sitting at a table with a man Evan didn't recognize. The one he
did know was Logan, sitting at a table and sipping a can of that hideous
Ugly as he talked to his companion. The other man was fit and muscular and
spoke with a precision of speech that suggested that perhaps English was
not his native language.

Even didn't pay much attention to the other man for the moment, instead he
was grateful, as always, that Logan did not recognize him. Despite the fact
that Logan and Evan had never been properly introduced, at least not by
these names, the short man with bad taste in beer had shown a sometimes
uncanny insight in their previous meetings. Taking a seat at the bar he
reached into a pocket and dug out a few bills, tossing them on the bar.
"Lenny, gimmie a Three Wisemen would ya." The young man's voice was a bit
scratchy, as if not recently used.

Turning from his conversation the man called Logan spoke up, "You got the
worse taste in drinks I know bub, and from the look of you, you sure you
can handle the stuff?" Evan didn't say much other than to grunt a few
friendly and colorful obscenities by way of response.  The man sitting with
Logan clapped him on the back and leaned over and whispered something in
his ear that set him to grumbling. Lifting up his drink and counting the
change Evan swallowed the shot in one go, managing to keep the grimacing to
a minimum. Of course that little grimace rapidly expanded to a bigger one
as he saw what was coming through the door.

First came the stormtroopers, dressed in standard Department H issued
uniforms. There were no identifying markings on them, but they were
instantly recognizable to Logan and his as yet unnamed companion David
North, the mutant otherwise known as Maverick. Both men began to rise, but
paused as two new arrivals came in behind the soldiers. The first was a
tall man of medium build, his eyes burning like blue fire. His clothes were
simple; black fatigues, well worn and seeming to fit the wearer like he was
born to them.

The woman who walked in with the man was as different from him as night was
to day. She was Asian to begin with, possessing delicate features, and her
eyes bright green and searching, with a exquisitely crafted katana hanging
at her side. The one thing they did have in common was that they both moved
with a liquid, deadly grace, like predators searching for their next meal.


The man sniffed at the air, the glow of his eyes flaring brighter for a
moment and his voice a rough growl, "He is here Steel Dragon, there is no
mistaking it."

The woman smiled, a smile not particularly filled with mirth. When she
spoke her voice was like a gentle breath of wind when compared to that of
her companion, "Ah how auspicious that we should finally find him. And
Logan, Maverick, please sit back down, we are not here for you, not today
at least...." In the few seconds this conversation had taken the soldiers
had fanned out through the room, encircling it and all the patrons, their
weapons at the ready.

Logan growled low in his throat before speaking in more a snarl than a
normal voice, "Dragon I don't care who you're here for. I'm here tryin' to
have a relaxing drink with an old friend, when lo' and behold someone walks
in intent on spoiling my well deserved R&R. Which means I'm gonna give you
two choices for goin' out that door, on your feet or on your back, I'm
satisfied either way lady. As for you Tracker, I don't much mind you one
way or the other, at least not currently, but you've got the same choices
as the lady does bub."

The rough looking man named Tracker, well his expression didn't change much
one way or the other. He was here to do a job, and even as Logan spoke he
was scanning the room, trying to gain a more accurate fix on his prey. As
for the woman who called herself Steel Dragon, she just laughed, the sound
like bells tinkling. "Oh but Logan, I'm not giving you any sort of choice
in the matter. I am here to retrieve something and then leave, and if you
stand in my way, then you will be put down."

As the woman was speaking Tracker began moving slowly through the room,
head pivoting this way and that. He was using his inborn mutant powers to
track anyone or anything, no matter how hard his targets try and hide.
Following those subtle hints and tugs he began moving towards the bar,
sensing that his quarry was somewhere in that vicinity.

With Tracker moving ever closer, young Evan sat at the bar fervently
thinking to himself 'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. They're here for me, what
the hell am I going to do?' And that as they say, was a very good question
indeed. For the simple truth was, that these hunters had come here looking
for young Evan, or more specifically, for the biological weapon that was
inside him.  A weapon that when unleashed, gave a rather ordinary young man
the power to go toe-to-toe with Omega Red, and survive. Rumors of just such
a weapon had made their way to Department H, and of course they decided
that they just had to have it, regardless of its desire to come along
willingly or not.

At that moment, luck or perhaps it was fate, decided to intervene on Evan's
behalf. Tracker paused for a moment, turning his head from side to side as
if confused. "Something is not right," he said, "where there should be only
one signature there is instead two. Almost, almost as if the target was
managing to mask itself somehow."

Without turning her head in his direction Steel Dragon snapped, "You are
not being paid for excuses Tracker. Now if you wish to keep your reputation
unblemished and your head attached to the rest of your body, I suggest you
do as you are told."

Right around then Evan decided he wasn't about to leave his fate up to
chance. Grabbing his empty glass he threw it at the nearest soldier's head,
the resulting impact causing the empty container to shatter and sending the
room into chaos. Soldiers and bikers charged each other, while Logan jumped
over the table and landed firmly on the back of Tracker, slamming the
larger man to the ground. Maverick caught a rifle butt to the back of the
head and went down. Evan got tackled and rammed through the door leading to
the alley, splintered wood flying.

This all happened in less time than it takes to tell. A split second later
there was a flash seen through the shattered doorway, and the sound of a
body solidly impacting into a wall. While half the people turned their head
to see Maverick leaped to his feet, absorbing the force from the shot to
his head, and releasing it as plasma blast, sending one of the Department
goons flying backwards. Logan and Tracker were rolling around on the floor,
the smaller man showing a clear advantage over his opponent. As for Steel
Dragon, she was aiming a calculated kick at the back of Logan's skull when
suddenly a sphere of rippling energy, more felt as a sense of 'heaviness'
rather than seen struck her square in the chest knocking her flat.

Within moments a figure out of nightmare came charging through the
destroyed door. Tall it was, appearing to be covered in some sort of
organic metal, seeming to almost shine with some internal, or perhaps
infernal, light. Short blades emerged from its arms, back near the elbows
and pointing upwards towards the shoulders. The eyes burned with a cold red
fire, briefly flashing more intensely as they looked in the direction of
the temporarily fallen Steel Dragon. And that is who it moved toward, each
step carried out with an otherworldly grace, eyes locked on its prey.

Steel Dragon sprang to her feet as this new opponent, the target she was
sent here for, approached. She lashed out with a vicious kick aimed for the
Guyver's chin, her foot connecting with an audible crack. Evan, now
ColdFire, staggered back for a moment, but the blow hadn't even really
dazed him. Charging in he slammed his fist into the woman's stomach, and
was rewarded for his efforts by a hard elbow to the back of his neck. Both
opponents backed away, shaking their heads and circling each other. Logan
and Tracker still struggled on the floor, but Maverick had succeeded in
helping the bar patrons subdue the last of the soldiers.

She made the first move this time, snapping a foot towards Evan's stomach.
He managed to catch the kick and rammed his fist into her knee. There was a
satisfying crunching sound, and Steel Dragon winced in pain, hopping
backwards. It didn't take her long to recover however, between her
invulnerability and her body's ability to heal rapidly she came forward
with a series of rapid strikes aimed for the Guyver's face. He managed to
deflect most of these, but a few got through, rocking Evan back a bit. The
few remaining patrons, as well as those soldiers still able to move took
this split second respite to run for any open exit.

That was all the time that Steel Dragon needed. She drew her adamantium
katana in one smooth motion and brought it around in a vicious arc. Evan
didn't have time to think, so his symbiotic armor reacted for him. His left
arm came up and instinctively the blade at the elbow extended, humming
softly. Katana met Symbiotic Blade with a hideous screeching sound. Within
seconds the sound had risen to a near unbearable pitch, every bit of glass
in the bar shattering in one moment of destruction, bottles, windows and
glasses alike flying apart with an almost orgasmic fury. The sound shook
Logan as he fought with Tracker, and the former Department H soldier was
taken by surprise when suddenly an ephemeral weapon formed in the other
man's hand and was thrust into his skull. Logan's screams were lost in the
intensity of sound filling the room; and hands clamped to his ears Tracker
fled from the Bloody Mud.

Dragon and Guyver stood with blades locked, the sound rising like the death
scream of a forgotten god. Her nose had started to pour blood and his
entire body was shivering from head to toe. What is the exact resonance
frequency to blow someone apart? If something didn't happen soon it seems
that the Evan, Steel Dragon, Maverick and Logan were about to find out.
Both Logan and Maverick were on the ground, hands clamped to ears, the
Canadian's healing factor working overtime to repair the damage done by
Tracker's psychic blade and the sonic assault. ColdFire knew he had only
one choice left. Keeping his arm braced he drew on his inner reserves of
energy, shunting them to the most devastating weapons he had. The right
side of his chest seemed to open, trailing a few strands of a mucus like
substance. From head, chest and waist there came a glowing and sense of
pulsing, and before Dragon had time to realize what was happening the
Guyver fired all three of his biological energy weapons.

The woman screamed under the force of the blast, finding herself blown out
through the wall still clutching her indestructible blade. Evan also
watched, with mingled horror and fascination as the sweeping energy tore
away his arm starting just above the elbow and all the way to his fingers,
disintegrating it like a heavy breeze dispersing smoke. Stumbling back he
tripped over Logan, falling to the floor as his symbiote tried to dampen
the pain and began reconstructing the lost appendage. And as the two former
Team X'ers climbed shakily to their feet, they watched as the strange
armored figure's arm boiled and pulsed, recreating both human flesh and
mysterious armor.

Logan leaned down and grabbed ColdFire's front, gesturing for Maverick to
grab the Guyver's feet. Grunting the two men lifted their rather heavy
burden up and headed for the door. Under his breath the Canadian mutant
mumbled, "I always thought there was something funny about you kid. You
never half smelled right. Don't worry though, I'm not gonna tell anybody
you turn into a huge, crazy lookin' monster. Well at least not anybody that
shouldn't know. You might wanna watch it though, they're gonna know who you
are now, and want you even more." With a few more grunting sounds the two
men made for the back door, well what was left of it anyway, so that they
could try and smuggle the kid to safety. Maybe ol' Chuck wouldn't mind
having him around at the mansion, or if he did mind, well between the two
of them they could always find a safehouse, some cold beer and maybe a few
sympathetic women....