Chapter 7

Washington. A few days after Tony Stark was healed.

She walked down the corridor again, barely perceiving the blurring walls. Her hands were tightly gripping work folders, her legs confidently paced in time with the man hurrying in front, her lips clearly and quickly answered the questions asked from time to time, but all this happened without her will. How long has it been like this? Month? Year? Or ten years already? She saw everything, perceived and realized everything, but she could not do anything, could not influence anything. And only when the Other, the one that controlled the arms, legs and speech, remained idle, dying in expectation and immobility, she could crunch her knuckles. Fleetingly feel the glimpse of control over the limbs, playing the role of a harmful unconscious habit.

Today, as hundreds of times before, the world before her eyes was blurred under a fuzzy veil, her native pupils, no longer subject to her will, looked anywhere except those places that she wanted to see. Her captor had meetings and conversations. Offices replaced each other, working folders passed from hand to hand, Another made reports and brewed coffee for the captivator. Everything was as usual - only despair and powerlessness in every moment.

The working day was drawing to a close. The last meetings, the habitual expectation with a painfully sweet aftertaste of fleeting control over the fingers and a swift step to the car ... That something was happening, she did not immediately understand. Too long ago she lost hope of escape, she became too indifferent to what the Other was doing, controlling her body at the behest of the captor. And yet, subsequent events forced her to throw off her apathy, because the Other told the captor what was not.

An invitation to dinner from an important patron that the captor could not ignore. There was no invitation, but the others talked about it. She told the place, time, wishes of the invitee ... Clearly and efficiently, as she had done thousands of times before on any other topic. But all these thousands of times, the Other spoke only the verified and impartial truth, and now she lied. She lied to the one who gave birth to her.

And he believed. I could not help but believe, because the Other never lied to him.

And then they drove off. Without a driver and security, because the patron did not like extra eyes outside the walls of official institutions. And again the Other deceived. They didn't make it to the destination. We turned into an inconspicuous turn. But the captor did not notice anything - he was too immersed in drawing up a report, the need of which the Other told him.

And they stopped. The other left the car and politely opened the passenger door so that the overweight captor could get out without any problems. The darkness of the night helped to hide reality from him in the first seconds, and when bewilderment began to appear in his eyes, her fingers clenched on a flabby neck, at the same time wringing her fat body's hands ...

"Welcome, Mr. Stryker," came from the darkness an unfamiliar male voice, in which the pleasure of the observed view splashed so much, "I hope you are comfortable in the gentle hands of your assistant?"

"How did you do that?" The man croaked hoarsely through his constricted throat. "Who are you?"

"Right questions," a young man in a light coat over a business suit appeared in the spotlight from the headlights. His long black hair was neatly slicked back, held on to the back of his head without any rubber bands or laces, and an ironic and cheerful smile played on his lips. "I will answer to the first one: your wonderful potion," he stepped closer, and the Other abruptly pulled Colonel Stryker up so that he was unable to prevent the unknown from removing a dispenser with a transparent liquid from his inner pocket, "a very interesting thing," the brunette finished the phrase, measuring the find with a glance. "But the trouble is, it makes the victim completely defenseless against mental suggestion."

"Impossible," the man wheezed, convulsively rubbing his hand over the steel grip of her fingers.

"From what?" the stranger smiled. "It's chemistry, not magic. But we chatted about something, and I'm here for you on business," the dispenser, hated by her, disappeared under the coat of a man who, no one knows how, subjugated the Other. "Oh, do not try," he warned William's attempt to say something, at one moment with the way her hand clenched on the colonel's throat, not letting him breathe out half a word, "your opinion and language are unnecessary for me," the right hand of an unknown lay on Stryker's head "just relax and have fun …"

She felt the person in her arms flinch, as if he felt a prick of pain, and then everything froze. The other slightly relaxed her fingers, allowing the former captor to breathe, and the second, who apparently became a new captor, closed his eyes, as if listening to something. And there was silence ...

They were in some empty warehouse, through the main gate of which they entered a room hidden in darkness. There was no light anywhere, only the headlights from the car dispersed the darkness in the center of the empty space. And from this combination of silence and darkness, my soul became creepy. An hour ago, she thought that she had gone through all the circles of Hell and was stuck in one of them forever, but now the mutant woman, who, unfortunately, had the ability to regenerate, felt fear again. The fear that with every second was seizing her heart more and more, displacing from it the black despair that had reigned supreme for a long time.

Whoever this young brunette was, he had no intention of leaving Stryker alive, it was as obvious as day and night. But what will he do next? What will you do? Yuriko Oyama has long ceased to be afraid of death ... she dreamed of it as a deliverance! So she thought ... But what will happen now? Will she become a weak-willed slave of the new owner or will she face the fate of the waste material along with William Stryker? How to be? What to prepare for? She thought she couldn't be afraid. Should not! What is the worst behind, what could not be worse ... But it was so only until there was hope. What ... What if he let her go? .. Free her? .. He's also a mutant ... a telepath, most likely, but he's a mutant! He can feel sorry for her ... Can help ... Maybe ... save!

This word tore at the heart ... Even the Other's breathing became faster. The potion injected into the neck - on the upper vertebrae - still worked and should have worked for a long time, not even allowing to blink at will, but the cheeks became hot, and in the eyes it became dim not only from the veil of intoxicating obsession, but also from the moisture that came out.

A chance ... The first chance in all these years ... The first after she was captured and turned into a guinea pig ... He was so inviting and close, but ... But it was so scary to shiver that her hope would be trampled upon, as Stryker trampled on life for almost ten years back.

"Please …" silently, with only barely parted lips, for the first time in many years burst out ... not even a sound, but a shadow, but the shadow of her own voice. "Please …" managed to push the second word out to an elusive beat louder. "Pr …" but the third was fettered by the Other. Captive Potion mastered the hormones injected into the bloodstream, cutting off the chance of conversation more reliably than any gag.

A lone tear drew a narrow path down his left cheek, making Yuriko feel as if the wet skin was burning and twitching as if under acid. It got even worse. The cold claws of the returned despair gripped the chest ... No longer displaced, but only intensified by the rolling horror. I wanted to scream, cry, sob ... but she could not do anything, locked in her own body by a powerless spectator. And then she felt a touch ...

" Do not be afraid," the soft voice of the stranger reached his ears at the same time as his finger wiped a tear from her cheek, "I will help you," the brunet's palm gently moved to her temple, and the following words echoed in the whole body with an inexpressibly sweet echo. "Follow my voice …"

Still not realizing what she was doing, Yuriko with all her being leaned towards this command and ... She sighed convulsively, dropping Stryker's limp body from her weakened hands.

From her hands ...

Again ... completely ... her ...

The same place and time, Loki.

Catching the girl who was starting to settle, I picked her up and carefully carried her to the still open car door. Already at the second step, Yuriko began to pound a large shiver, demonstrating the stress that her body was subjected to. My influence, no matter how gentle it was, still remained a sharp "shifting the steering wheel in the opposite direction", which was a difficult test for an already depressed nervous system. So even her regenerating body took a while to recover.

Immediately twist Tony's tail on the topic: "Look for me scientists! More Scientists Needed! All - in sharashka*, according to the precepts of KJB! Search me for a way out of this universe! Shnele! Shnele! Arbeiten! '' it would not be very correct in the general context. Let the man sort out his affairs, get used to the new position, and then it will be possible to somehow gently hint about a promising direction. The final result in this case promises to be of better quality than if it now starts twitching convulsively. Thus, after completing my affairs with Stark, I figured that one way or another, and Tony would soon divert the attention of all interested parties to himself, from Fury, who lost one of the best operatives, and ending with the big uncles at the Pentagon, which, with the recovery of the billionaire, the dream of getting the armor of Iron Man will be covered with a copper basin. So I thought that since everything is going so well, why not take up another businessman, for the sake of which I have been collecting information for a long time? So, leaving my illusion of teaching a lesson and flirting with Storm, I myself went to the capital of the American hegemony, the result of which was a Striker lying on the floor and a trembling mutant girl in my hands.

Gently sitting the dumbfounded lady in the car, I took out brandy from the minibar of the car and generously poured amber liquid into a glass, which I gave to the recent prisoner of her own body - the relaxing effect of alcohol was now the best choice.

" Have a drink, it will help you to recover faster," thin, but extremely strong fingers clenched convulsively on the glass, the glass creaked in protest, but still was in no hurry to become covered with cracks, although it was clear that he was not far from this state.

Another second or two glances at "nowhere", and the container with the drink is brought to the lips. Greedy gulp.

"Kha… khe…" the shivering Asian woman coughed.

"Take your time, now everything will be alright," trying to give my voice a soothing note, I promised and received a short nod in response ... And a new sip, not so convulsive.

Things went well, but I, watching the rescued woman slowly come to her senses, continued to ponder what I saw in the memory of the fat man. What he kept in this memory would have been enough for an electric chair for him and a dozen more influential uncles and aunts, and with another fifty different senator-congressmen could receive forty to fifty years of "special regime". The deposits of compromising evidence, however, were not the most interesting treasure I found in Stryker's head. I achieved my initial goal - the secret of adamantium was now in my hands, and, like everything brilliant, it turned out to be simple.

No, the events of that stoned film with the young Wolverine, Deadpool the constructor on text control from a personal computer, the elder brother Sabretooth and another half-ton of any crap, including the adamantium meteorite, did not take place here. And praise to all the Great Powers, I tell you! For I was afraid until the very last moment, although I saw Logan's x-rays. I don't care that there were no bullet holes in the indestructible skull and a couple of bullets stuck in the brain, because this is the Marvel Cinematic Universe! Here, even the properties of Mjolnir change to strictly reverse within the same timeline, in the sense, from a powerful weapon that gives power over the weather, to a plug for Thor's personal powers, and before that he was worn by Hela, and he gave her all the same opportunities with thunder and lightning ... don't ask ... I don't know how it works. Marvel Cinematic Universe - everything is possible here! Even talking about raccoons.

However, I digress. And the bottom line was that the secret of creating an adamantium alloy was discovered by chance, while trying to reproduce the secret of creating vibranium, which went to Captain America's shield. The basis was titanium and another half dozen rare earth metals, which had to be mixed in a strict sequence and proportion. However, there was nothing impossible in this, even the operating temperatures could not be compared with other weapons-grade steels. The most difficult thing was in preserving the alloy and working with it, since as soon as it solidified, no furnaces were already able to melt it. Unlike vibranium, by the way, which although it was a refractory metal, but not so much that it was impossible to remelt it. But it was not possible to determine the melting point of solidified adamantium, despite the fact that it remained in a liquid state even at three hundred degrees, which is less than that of lead, and only when lowered to two hundred and fifty did it solidify.

As for Stryker himself and the question of the uniqueness of his knowledge, he was the only owner of the secret of the creation of adamantium, or, at least, sincerely considered himself so. He prudently killed all the scientists who knew about the process, erased all the records, but he did not strongly believe that someone would be able to open the alloy recipe anew.

But these were the expected data, one might say, for the sake of them I moved, because without the captive Magneto, as I thought, William Stryker became a practically safe person on a global scale. I will not say that I was greatly mistaken, but ...

Here was the X-23 project.

The one with the female clone of Wolverine, who was trained from birth to be an obedient puppet of the right people in the war for American domination. Stryker was only "one of" the project leaders, far from leading - all his participation ended with the supply of adamantium and the choice of the direction of training for the experimental girl, and nevertheless this project was here, and the restless mutant-hating colonel knew about it.

As well as about another project: a project to create biological weapons against mutants based on ... Drum roll ... The virus that killed all vampires in the early nineties! Hello cool black guy with a katana! Blade, you nigga bespectacled, you and here, it turns out, exist!

But not only that, the project of total destruction of all owners of the X-gene was supervised by the same person as the X-23 project - Zander Rice. And it was that bastard who had still gone, it was not for nothing that Stryker respected him wildly and dreamed of jumping even more, even though he was two times older. And I, perhaps, will also go to him personally. For, with all my current roof and the general carelessness caused by this case, to clearly know that this is happening in a lost bunker near the Mexican border, and do nothing ... no, it was not for me. Here, rather, a different question was: to run to that bunker and get the X-23 out of there right now, or to finish with the colonel first? I didn't really want to waste time, besides, the raised hype could make the rest of the curators of the revived Arms-X project go to the bottom. But, on the other hand, it was not necessary to flog a fever either ... No, perhaps the death of William Stryker, no matter how loud it is, will not affect the rest of the work in any way. Taking into account the public there, they will rather be glad that one pain in the ass, with its nonsense and wishlist, has become less. Slightly worse with his curators from the very top, but they are unlikely to scratch themselves. If only because the main curator of Stryker was Alexander Pierce. This, for a second, is a member of the world security council, who is directly subordinate to SHIELD, and although the colonel's affairs are important for him, they are far from paramount. He has such colonels half N.A.T.O. Oh yes, and Pierce is also one of the leaders of Hydra ... Not the one that "Hydra Dominatus", but a local pirate copy of the Nazi spill that the Red Skull created - an under-super-soldier, under-Fuhrer, under-agent Smith, under-Elrond and, in general, a complete misunderstanding. His successors, however, turned out to be a little more talented and now rule from the shadows almost the whole world. Well, after one is not very smart, Ebony (not Fury) drank all the vampires that quietly managed to all the world before. Seriously, tools like the offer of immortality, wealth and power were better than the "pirate copy" of Dominatus could offer, which, with a probability of 99 and many, many nines after the decimal point, previously went under the same vampires. But Stryker did not know about all this, and I only know from the films. In short, the big uncles have no time for a plump fan of bone metalization, because he, even if he wants to surrender everything and everyone, does not threaten them with anything.

"Oh …" tore me out of my thoughts of a young mutant, who has mastered drinking and began to look at the world with a much more meaningful look.

"So," I draw Yuriko's attention to myself, "I suppose now I should say something like "he is yours", or some other pretentious slogan of a brutal hero leaving into the sunset, but forgive me - I have already written the scene of his death, and the scenery waiting for the actors. So, when you come to your senses, I advise you to take his car home, and then quietly and peacefully disappear. You have money and funds, but if anything, I can share a couple of addresses of mutant communities. There is an option with a caring team, vocational rehabilitation and other resorts, but there are also radical vindictive guys who will gladly help you open a couple of mouthfuls of those involved in your fate. Choose what you like best."

" And you?" with a hoarse and not very confident girl squeezed out of herself.

" And now I will start preparing the last act of the Marlezon Ballet, and somewhere in a week the country will be shocked by a report telling about the unprecedented cruelty going on under the nose of honest taxpayers. But you better be far away at this time."

"So I'm ... free?" Despite the strict gray suit, business glasses and tightly pulled hair that all together should literally scream that there was a cold and unbending woman in front of me, she now looked extremely helpless and confused.

"Yes," I said briefly and took the bottle of brandy again. "Here, have another drink, you need it now," I fill the empty glass.

"Just?" not noticing the appearance of the amber liquid, the Asian woman continued to look timidly into my eyes.

"Yes," I said again, releasing a soothing smile on my face.

"And you don't want anything from me?" in the voice of Yuriko flashed notes of fearful distrust. I can't blame her for that.

"No," I smile wider. "And relax already, I would like to do something bad to you - I would not help regain control over the body. Now shake yourself up, finish your medicine," I point with a glance at the brandy, "and decide: are you interested in the addresses of mutants who are ready to help, or can you handle it yourself? Just make up your mind as soon as possible, or I'll take this body away now," a nod to Stryker, "and I'll be like that."

"Can I go with you ?!" The glass in the lady's hand cracked, spilling the contents, but she did not notice this, with a new level of fear on her face leaning in my direction.

"Um…" It was sudden… Although… If you think about it… The reasons for her emotions can be understood. " In the sense: with me "from here" or with me "in general"?" I clarify an important point, otherwise who knows what is going on in women's brains? Even with all Loki's discernment, you can run into here.

" With you in general!" Hastily the Asian woman jerked her head, but for some reason it seemed to me that she again did not really perceive the surrounding reality.

"Wait a second," I raise my index finger in warning. "You just got freedom from slavery for several years, when you were a prisoner of your own body and worked for a person who dreams of destroying your entire species and is ready to use you at any moment, as you become unnecessary, and now you want to go to no one knows where, it is not clear with whom and on an ongoing basis, did I confuse anything?"

" Y-yes!" The woman nodded abruptly, continuing to stare at me hopefully.

"It seems to me that the state of passion speaks to you," I considered it necessary to make another attempt.

"I have nowhere to go, everything that I had was taken away from me, and you saved me. Please," Yuriko leaned even closer, practically getting out of the car, and if I hadn't been standing right at the door, I probably would have got out, "give me your protection!"

" I'm sorry, what?" it seemed to me that I did not hear.

"Let me serve you for your protection, please!" The girl repeated without hesitation, and it seemed that my skull began to itch.

"But ... you're strong, aren't you?" Regeneration, martial arts, adamantium skeleton, retractable claws? .. - I move my fingers in the air indefinitely and questioningly, finishing the enumeration.

"My strength didn't help me," Oyama shook her head without breaking eye contact. " I know these people, they will look for me. Even if not Stryker, there will be another. And again, and again. I have nowhere to go and ... no one. They will find me. Please ... Please!"

"So I'm just saying that I can recommend a couple of good mutant communities. Believe me, each of them will have enough strength to arrange a small apocalypse in a single country.

"I don't know them," was the immediate and firm response.

" You don't even know my name!" Unable to withstand the intensity of the strangeness of the situation, I was indignant in my voice.

They nodded to me in response. Impulsively, firmly and still without a shadow of doubt in their desires.

"So, let's calm down a little," I gently put my hands on the girl's shoulders, immediately feeling through my clothes how strong, albeit imperceptible in the twilight, tremor continues to beat her. Y-e-es, here we have an obvious hysteria, and logic will not help matters. You need something else, something that will switch it ... " Let's start with the fact that I am not a human" and shut up, waiting for a reaction. There was no reaction. "I mean, not a human at all, not even a mutant," we wait ... we look at each other ... reactions - zero. "Okay, okay…" I smack my lips, realizing that it just won't happen. "My name is Loki, I am a Scandinavian God of Magic, I am over a thousand years old, and I am one of the most famous bad guys in the history of mankind ... can you hear me?" Yuriko readily nodded, but that was the end of the reaction. "I am eccentric, narcissistic, unbearable, shameless, disgustingly tactless, and if you come with me, there will be no turning back, do you need it?"

" I agree" but your mother, what kind of fanatical fatalism is this ?!

"Agree with what?"

"Help you. I'll be helpful."

" Do you even know who Odin, Thor, Loki are? .. I mean, do you understand what I am warning you about now?"

"Yes," the girl nodded once again shortly and laconically.

Silently letting go of her shoulders, I took a step back and took a fresh look at Stryker's former assistant. The twilight of the night warehouse was not very conducive to a detailed assessment of facial features, even for the jotun's vision, but in general ... If you look closely and remove these glasses ... Perhaps you can say that this was the second beautiful girl I met in this world, Black Widow does not count - Scarlett Johansson is not my type. And-and-and ... this beautiful girl wants to work for me ... The only question arose, do I need it? Well, and a number of others, like: will she change her mind when she comes to her senses? Can you trust her? Did the Stryker cocktail damage any brain function? Even if the latter was unlikely, even natural roasting of the brain with a red-hot metal does not affect the sanity of the regenerators, Logan proved, but you never know? On the other hand, to just take and leave the lady in trouble, I ... not that I could not, but, damn it, this is the second beautiful girl I met in this universe, and I already managed to pretty much climb the multimillion-dollar city with its surroundings. She's also Japanese. Not that I had anything against the Japanese, especially if they are pretty girls, but even in my past world, the number of their fetishes, odd behavioral paradigms and just the size and number of cockroaches in their heads made any European nervously hiccup and look for a balloon with the sacred with promethium. What can be going on in this world, and even with the "victim of the experiment", I'm even scared to think, but for some reason I have little doubt that it can be twisted.

Okay, you can return to this issue and finally solve it when she leaves, now trying to convince her somehow is useless, and playing hide and seek and a hasty escape, and even with Stryker's body on the backs, I definitely won't, because this action would undermine my divine dignity. Who Said About Laziness?

Looking again into the eyes of the shrinking girl, I sighed heavily. Well, why the hell am I taking on extra hemorrhoids?

"Okay, here you go," I pulled out a box of chocolate chip cookies from my subspace pocket. Yes, sometimes I go to the store, can't I eat the kids in Xavier's kitchen? - As you finish, you will start your new job duties.

"What is it?" Yuriko accepted the box in confusion.

"Dark Side Cookies," I smile like the complete idiot that I feel. " Since you asked to be a servant to an evil deity, then you must observe the traditions. And yes, I warned you about eccentricity, but you can still back up. You can always back up before you have eaten the cookies! .. But then it's too late!"

"I understand," the woman nodded mechanically and, completely ignoring the warning, opened the package.

What a miracle I resisted not to caress my face from all the breadth and scope of the divine hand, I cannot imagine. Although, probably, I was ashamed to fall even lower. However, in order not to see how the poor Japanese girl is intently chewing cookies with an air of such an air as if the level of the world ocean depends at least on this, I hastened to move away and deal with Stryker.

Eviscerating his memory, I was not too concerned about the safety of the process for the victim, I was much more worried that he would not interfere and resist. With the same Eric Lanscher, I was much more careful, and I looked at him with a noticeably smaller volume - only that related to scientific research and the current situation on the front of his struggle. The same situation was with Stark, only without a fight. However, the colonel's personal life did not bother me, as well as the first issues of Playboy, which fell into his hands in his distant youth. Nevertheless, the volume of "dirty deeds" was still very large, and if Loki's brain tolerated this flow of information calmly, then Stryker felt bad. And it will be bad for about a week, with constant bouts of dizziness and loss of consciousness. Further it would have been bad too, but he was no longer supposed to live there, and for my plans, his state of affairs suited me quite well.

Lifting the fat body by the scruff, I easily carried it to my own car and unloaded it in the back seat. Then he took out his mobile from the colonel's inner pocket and, finding the number he needed, called Jason Stryker's nanny, or mutant number one hundred and forty-three, as his own father preferred to call him after he gave him a lobotomy.

A sound illusion, a short dialogue - and now they are ready to take the last participant of the upcoming performance to the set decorations and wait only for the appointed time. One more call - and the helicopter is ready for me, because the adamantium produced by Stryker will not take itself out of the base. There was not so much of it at the moment - only about half a cubic meter of melt. It made no sense to keep a larger volume, because even in the depths of a full-fledged hydroelectric power plant, one could not be completely sure that there were no power failures, and, as a result, no heating. Equipment also tended to break, and indeed ... Large volumes of this metal were not required. At one time, the colonel still dreamed of adamantium fighters and body armor, but when he calculated the cost of rare earth metals for the production of an alloy alone, excluding all hemorrhoids with the manufacture of finished products, he put his dreams into hell. Plus, mass production put an end to his prescription monopoly, and William was not ready to go for it. For many reasons…

In short, it was time to leave the hospitable warehouse and ride towards fate. Fortunately, the technomagic "thermos" was already waiting in the wings in my subspace pocket and was even ready to accommodate three times the volume of alloy.

"I see you've finished strengthening your mental strength?" referring to the empty plastic tray from under the cookies, I ask the girl, returning to the circle of light.

"Thank you for the treat," she officially bowed her head, getting to her feet.

"Nice," stepping closer, I take the package and immediately send it to the subspace pocket. "Now listen carefully. Now you will get back into the car and take her to Stryker's house, leaving her where she should be. After that, I will tell you where you should hide for a while while I deal with your past employer. Have questions?"

" How can I contact you?" clenching her fists and stretching out, as if swallowing a pole, Yuriko asked succinctly.

" Look to the right," with a slight movement of my hand I create my phantom next to it, "I will be there all the time," I continue the phrase with his lips ...

Some time later. Not far from the border with Mexico.

"Rice, turn on the news channel!" a young tanned woman with a distinct imprint of bitchiness on her face unceremoniously burst into Zander's office.

" How long can I ask you not to break into my office without a compelling need, Kimura?" the head of laboratories winced. "And everything that does not belong to the potential danger for the project is not "weighty" !"

"Just turn on that fucking box and you'll figure it out! the woman growled in response, impulsively grabbing the remote control from the bedside table and forcibly shoving it into the boss's hands.

" Okay," the scientist sighed with a grimace and, pointing the remote control at the plasma panel hanging on the wall, turned on the requested channel.

"… Two injured police officers have just been taken away by an ambulance. We remind you that we are broadcasting from Irving Street, Washington. At thirteen forty-seven, a call came to the dispatcher's console with a statement about strange sounds in the neighboring yard. An ordinary call in the suburbs of the capital this time turned into something terrible - the camera switched to a top view, apparently from a helicopter. A solid-looking large house behind a massive fence was surrounded by police cars, behind which the brave servants of the law sat down, and did not try to lean out.

" Smelly mutants!" heard a familiar voice. "It's all your fault!" the sounds of shots joined the voice.

"The military adviser living in the house, Colonel William Stryker, being in a state of severe alcohol or drug intoxication, started shooting in his own house, and upon the arrival of the representatives of the law refused to let them in and opened fire. At the moment, there are two wounded, and, according to preliminary information, in the house, in addition to Colonel Stryker, there is one hostage, which is his son. The Defense Department has yet to comment on the case. However, based on the cries of the suspect, the reason for what happened is his radical views on the phenomenon of mutation, which was discussed in Congress six months ago. Our operator was able to record some of William Stryker's lines, so I suggest you listen to them."

" ... They live among us, pretending to be ordinary people!" The familiar voice of the colonel screamed angrily, but with a completely unfamiliar feverish intonation, as if he had a nervous breakdown. "Disguise and even interbreed. Giving rise to bastards like themselves! But you won't get me!" The sound of shots was heard on the recording. "I studied your habits for forty years! Think you have the ability? Ha! I saw your abilities on the operating table! Whatever you know how, you can always be cut! Animals!" shot. "No, you are worse than animals, worse than blacks and dirty Latinos! A real plague that cannot be identified by skin color to stay away! Get infiltrated into our society! Pretend! But I found a way to find you! Yes, you will not fool me!" again the roar of shots. "You wanted to take me to the honey trap ?! Thought my wife would be able to control me ?! Not! I got it! I guessed who she was! You all need to be isolated from normal people and cured ... cured or destroyed. Keep on pills! Yes, on pills," the hysterical screams were interrupted by another shot. Obviously, there were more than enough cartridges in the colonel's house. "I tried to heal her ... I almost succeeded! It's all about the brain, the brain! .. But she did not appreciate my work, she wanted to escape and prevent me from treating our son ... stupid mutant and her geek! Surely she cheated on me with the same freak, a normal person could not have a mutant son ... But nothing, nothing, I did not let her ruin everything and cured my boy! Really, sonny? This is what needs to be done with all of you! What Should Be Done for America! Real people must protect themselves from these geeks! Protect! Unite!.."

"As you can see, the Colonel is very upset," a journalist appeared on the screen, behind whose back the house being watched from the helicopter could be guessed. "These racist slogans, obviously …"

* BOOM! * - the next sound of a shot, judging by the noise - from a shotgun, rudely interrupted the speech, and something crashed loudly right next to the camera, forcing the operator to sharply blur the image.

Do you think I do not know what you are up to ?! You will not silence me!" Following the distant cry was heard a hysterical sob. "Sorry, but I can't help you ... damn mutant!" It's all your fault! Mutants ... these damn mutants are everywhere! You can't take me! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

" Lie down!" a policeman in a bulletproof vest ran up and knocked down the journalist and the operator.

"Don't come! I will not give in! BOOM! BOOM! .." and everything was quiet.

Journalists, contrary to attempts to persuade the police, contrived to direct the camera at the house, and it became clear how the law enforcement officers were pounding at the door. A second, then another - and the camera snatches out in the opened corridor some exhausted man, limply leaning back in a wheelchair, a neat hole in his forehead clearly shows that the unknown is definitely dead, and a scar around his temple - that the colonel's words about the brain and "treatment" were far away not drunken delirium. A few minutes later, cunning reporters already reported that Stryker himself was found nearby - the body with the back of the head completely torn off was lying in the middle of the destroyed room. In his hands was a revolver drenched in blood.

At this, Rice turned off the TV, not interested in watching how TV people retell the news in the next round. He was much more worried about completely different questions.

"Well, how do you like it?" asked the woman who broke into his office.

" Nonsense," the doctor frowned. "For the layman it will do, but those who know ... I knew William well, he, of course, was that still a pain in the ass, but ... he never drank like that, let alone anything more."

"And what could it be then?" asked Kimura.

"I think…" the scientist strained his considerable intellect, "for public opinion, it's just the suicide of a demented mutant-hater, but for more enlightened people, the staging of all this… the performance will not cause doubts. The question is, why? A warning? Pre-emptive strike?

"A little bit of everything," said an unfamiliar voice from behind and to his right. "But mostly I was interested in the secret of adamantium, and the rest was a nice bonus."

"What?" Rice tried to turn around, but suddenly something pricked him in the neck, and the body was painfully paralyzed, without turning off, however, consciousness.

For a moment, a rustle - and Kimura falls beside him, awkwardly trying to group up and hold out his hands, like a naughty cat that the owner threw from the closet.

"I'm sorry, what"? A young-looking man who appeared in his field of vision asked curiously, unceremoniously driving the woman's head into the floor with a kick. And the phrase "hammered into the floor" was by no means a figure of speech - the tiled concrete cracked and washed out about five centimeters, which made even the bulletproof Kimura quieted down. "Guys, you decided that you can do anything. The dissatisfied public in my face, in response, decided that you are superfluous in this world."

"You have no idea what you got yourself into, guy," it was difficult to say, but the thing that was injected into him was completely paralyzed only below the neck.

"Oh," the stranger winced, "just don't need those cheap cliches with" you don't know who is behind us "," all this is for the highest good "," Gott mit uns "," Hail Hydra "and other babblings. Believe me, I know about the structure of the universe much more than you, - a young mutant, and this type could not be anyone else, bent down and easily pulled Kimura onto his knees by the hair, then thoughtfully tilted his head to one side. "Look, she's really alive ... It's good to be strong," he summed up with a grin and put his right hand to the woman's temple. "Hmm ... That's how it is. Just a venal scum with a bunch of complexes and childhood traumas that have developed into a simply gorgeous bouquet of mental deviations. Nothing valuable ... but at least I'll see how this thing works," with these words the brunette pulled out a "pipette" vaguely familiar to Rice and dropped some transparent liquid under the upper vertebra on Kimura's neck. On contact with the skin, the liquid hissed and was absorbed almost instantly. "So, what would such an order? .. Oh, exactly!" releasing the woman, the mutant snapped his fingers and smiled. "Go and drown yourself in the nearest sink."

The mercenary straightened herself mechanically, turned around and went to the bathroom adjacent to the doctor's office. And he, much to his dismay, was able to observe how the woman, plugging the sink drain, busily filled it with water, then stuck her head into her and ... remained standing until she lost consciousness due to asphyxiation, but even so her body simply sank and fell forward, the head remained under the water.

" Not bad," thoughtfully stroking his chin, stated the mutant. "Now let's get to you, doc! Let's play! I'm like a priest, and you're like a parishioner in confession. Lighten your soul, so to speak. And then I'll go into your brains later, poke around in these slopes, and so I'll go through fresh associations faster, and you, perhaps, will remain in your mind, and not like poor Will. Come on, you don't want to upset me? .."

In the same place. Loki.

As expected, it was not difficult to split this creature, rather it was a difficult task to understand the stream of eloquence that he poured on me. Confident in their exclusivity and impunity, sadists for some reason very quickly become obedient and ready to cooperate, as soon as their brains realize that they have no more "exclusivity", and now they can and want to pinch their fingers. And then all this happened. And the cobbled up production with Stryker, which now at the same time will give a reason to say their weighty word to the "defenders of mutants" in the political arena, will plug the throats of mutant-hating chatterboxes and make those who are aware of the real state of affairs very thoughtful, and the next "voluntary suicide" of the next victim is a good motivating factor for frankness. Let me still have to crawl into his brains, but at least I will cut my unpleasant job ...

Alas, the splendor did not last long, and a vulgar note of guile wedged into our instructive conversation. In the sense that Zander Rice began to try to embellish some moments and keep others silent, and after all, I just gutted Kimura's memory ...

I had to end the conversation and put my palm on his temple. I don't know how telepathists perceive this, but for me, viewing someone else's memory is like attending a session in a cinema, with full 3D immersion, surround sound, and also a remote control in my hands. Only the latter saves, allowing you to skip the unnecessary, go to the "menu" to the most important, or put the "mut" in a particularly unsightly one. Otherwise, I seem to see a first-person film about a person's life with a second-by-second chronology. Many frames and entire layers of time in people, as a rule, look faded and faded, but if desired, even the most worn-out ones can be restored by seeing everything in the smallest detail, although this requires a fair amount of effort from a mental magician. Although in reality this is completely unnecessary, a person will never send really important events or results of work to the section of "everyday routine", which "does not require the participation of consciousness," and therefore almost is not "written" into long memory. Nevertheless, the phrase "the whole life flashed before my eyes" here fits like no other - I really can look through the whole life while only a couple of seconds pass in the real world. And those lives of a mercenary named Kimura and a scientist named Zander Rice were ...

As if I bathed in shit ...

Not in the sense that their life was unbearable and disgusting (although Kimura had a difficult childhood), but in the sense that they lived like utter scum and did nasty things, not because they needed to, but because they could. Here their story differed little from what I knew from the comics, albeit adjusted for the cinematic universe. A downtrodden girl from a family of poor alcoholics, who grew up in a disadvantaged area, formed into a little rat who went all out, barely awakening his abilities. All complexes from bullying at school, poverty and indifference of parents immediately blossomed into violent sublimation. The former victim became an executioner for others and found in this the only way to self-assertion. She herself would have been dissected long ago, despite her increased physical characteristics and impenetrable skin, but she turned out to be too convenient a tool. It was not a fool to call her, but children's complexes completely cut off her ambitions above the most primitive level. She had two passions: money and bullying others, and she didn't really need money, but she still longed for it and was ready to take on the most dubious adventures for a pack of greens. An ideal puppet for dirty deeds, who is not at all interested in power or any lofty ideas, just provide her with "toys" - and she, sitting on a leash, will happily wag her ass and rush her throat to gnaw anyone at whom they point out. And cutting so wastefully - where else can you get a mutant who will enthusiastically help you find ways to subdue or destroy his race? With Rice it was both similar and not similar: his childhood turned out to be wonderful and wonderful, the family was rich and not deprived of position in society, the guy grew up as an "elite", like a licensed copy of Bill Gates or the same Elon Musk, but ... turned out to be by nature sadist with rat habits. He was a good organizer, had connections, knew how to present himself and put the sponsors on the ears, fancied himself an outstanding scientist, but in reality he was not much. In this, they were very similar to Stryker - both considered themselves innovators and great minds, although in reality they were classic "enhancers" of existing technologies, and not "inventors" of new ones.

Nevertheless, they knew how to organize the process and select people who would do the work for them, and then quietly disappear. Likewise, Rice was in charge of the X-23 project, but his merits in the success of the work were no more than that of the abstract "Uncle Sam", which gave money for the entire banquet. The real engine of the project was Dr. Sarah Kinney - initially a young, ambitious and daring scientist specializing in gene mutation, but over the past eleven years, she managed to get rid of the rose-colored glasses of idealism and understand which company she got into. How did I determine this from not her memory? So the behavior changed. People who are full of hopes and inspired by career prospects in a new job, and people who have realized that their employer is able to spank them at any moment, without the slightest twinge of conscience, and it makes no sense to contact any police a priori, behave oh, how different ... And it cannot be said that Sarah did not have enough opportunities to be convinced of the reality of the second option. Here, at the base, of course, they did not cut the experimental packs and did not shoot their own every day according to the precepts of the clichéd villains, but ... incidents happened, and why the X-23 project was being prepared, the leading specialist on this project knew very well. As well as had the dubious pleasure of watching the course of the training initiated by the chief.

However, I still have time to talk to Dr. Kinney, but now I was more interested in Rice's second key project, namely, biological weapons against mutants. The work was carried out on the same base, and, I must say, quite successfully. Zander knew little about vampires and their role in the world arena, practically only that they were destroyed by Blade, who had been targeted by the secret services of the whole world for more than a decade. However, the sample of the virus, which they were used for, was provided to him from above in a very pure and healthy form, along with a number of other interesting materials on the topic of the genetic structure of vampires, the process of rebirth into them from ordinary people and other extremely specific details. At the moment, painstaking research on the virus was going on, together with attempts to develop a strain against mutants that would not touch ordinary people. There was some progress, but waiting for the result earlier than seven to eight years was not worth even thinking, I would even be guided by twenty years - this is a more realistic figure for such studies. In addition, despite almost unlimited funding and support from the very top, Rice was very small, and there were no geniuses like Tony Stark or Bruce Banner in him. And if such a person appeared among the curators of all this lewdness, he would be the devil with two given into slavery to Rice, they would rather organize a separate laboratory, according to the principle of the Stryker scientific center, and then whoever copes first is a fine fellow.

In general, having rummaged through all the ins and outs of human brains, I let go of the former head of the base, sending him to bask in another world, and I myself went to the bathroom. After pulling Kimura out of the sink, I checked her brain for signs of life, but none were found. On the test, poking the skin with a summoned dagger, I learned a curious fact - with death, her natural armor ceased to work. That was good — I'll need some of her tissue samples. After a couple of minutes, the woman's head (by the way, never once was such a fatal beauty as she was portrayed in comics, but a very ugly boy-woman) was separated from the body, and a small suitcase with built-in cooling in my subspace pocket acquired a number of samples, from blood to spinal cord.

After unloading the remains into the bath and closing the curtain, I civilly washed my hands, washed my face, slightly straightened my hair that had lost my hair and went to the mass executions. Here, in contrast to Stryker's secret base under the dam, all personnel were very smeared. And if in Canada I calmly entered, took the adamantium, Jason's "potion" supplies and just as calmly flew back, then here people were out of luck. Although the colonel was a stubborn racist, sadism did not appear in his many sins, and when he could, he tried to be scrupulous in his means. Zander, on the other hand, was a person of a different kind, and it was in the order of things for him to use the X-23 to kill innocent prisoners to train him, they say, well, a couple of Mexicans will disappear in a neighboring city, so who counts them? So let's forget about humanity, and for the main villain of a couple of paintings on this fucking MCU, I killed too few earthlings, we need to fix this, otherwise what kind of evil God is I?

The last thought made me freeze for a second, there was something strange in it ... In fact, I noticed for a long time that from the moment I got into this body, even mentally I never called myself a name from a past life, but the name Loki somehow quickly became attached to me. I really liked to call myself that. And even further, the more I liked doing that ... because of the lack of which I decided to escape from Asgard. I liked to associate myself with this unlucky, but, let's be honest, damn charming villain. Even in conversations with Xavier, describing some moments from the past, from time to time I took them quite seriously as happened to me, if I pulled myself off my mind, then belatedly, or even without attaching any importance to it. Despite the fact that, deliberately delving into Loki's memories, I continued to clearly feel that these were not mine, but his memories. A wake-up call, if you think about it ...

Perhaps I was in vain drove a wave on the past (past ???) of the owner of the body ...

On the one hand, it is scary to realize this, but on the other hand ... It's good! To be a full-fledged God is much better than an unknown chimera of a pitiful little man (I've never had any illusions about this at all) and the soulless body of a dystrophic jotun. True, this option gives rise to a whole abyss of uncomfortable and difficult questions. Starting from: what is "personality" in general? If this is a combination of character traits and life experience, guidelines and rules, then the deformation of my own personality as it approaches Loki is quite logical. What is just over a quarter of a century of mortal memory versus more than a millennium belonging to God? And in conclusion: why do I consider myself to be myself, and not, say, Loki, who received "knowledge of the future" with an appendage in the form of "garbage" from the memories of a person from another universe? The last question is especially interesting, by the way ...

Immersed in this thought, I resumed movement, although two active phantoms, one at Xavier's school, the other at the hotel with Yuriko, continued to sit motionless with closed eyes in their chairs. However, they sat there even before my thoughtfulness - it's easier to dig into someone else's memory, and from the operation to penetrate a closed object, attention is not distracted by unnecessary angles of vision and limbs. Still, I would not want to get started in such a case out of my own stupidity, and if I were active in three different sets at the same time, I could be distracted at the most inopportune moment by some insignificant trifle or, distributing attention, skip another trifle, but already significant.

In general, plunged into thoughtful introspection, I moved to clear the bunker. The bunker, with the already neutralized security system, was cleaned methodically and calmly, most of Dr. Mengele's followers did not even realize that they were suddenly moving from a living state to a nonliving one, and I calmly walked on to the "wing" where the X-23 was being kept. ... And where I had a thoughtful conversation with Sarah Kinney.

The question remained, where to go first? Visit Sarah or Laura? More precisely, to X-23, because, as far as I remember, the girl will receive her name a little later ... more precisely, she would have received it from the dying Sarah, having simultaneously cleaned and blown up the bunker on her own. But the question remained open. Who should you choose to start a conversation? A learned lady or a child who knows nothing and who is turned into a beast without bothering with such "garbage" as socialization and other things? Hmm ... a dilemma. And then the corridor bifurcates, offering to go to the left or to the right ... Okay, let's be consistent in our image and turn left, which is already here.

A leisurely sweep of all living things fifteen minutes later led me to a monumental view of the pressurized door. The information received from Rice's head suggested that behind this door was the "room" of the weapon girl. Well, since my legs brought me here, then so be it. I drive in the desired combination on the combination lock, the sash opens with a barely audible hiss, and ... my gaze opens up a picture of a girl of about ten or eleven standing at attention in something like a medical gown on her naked body. It looks like a brick. Bare feet. The tense pose, apparently, Kimura's "training" has already yielded the first fruits, although it lasted nothing at all, because she was hired only about a year ago. Perhaps I was in a hurry with her drowning, and I should have come up with something more interesting.

"Well, hello," I greeted the girl. At the same time, again remembering the authors of the universe with an unkind word.

Why? Well ... the future Laura was very nice. Not even that, she was a charming girl promising to grow into a real beauty, which, without the prism of someone else's perception, at a personal glance, was obvious, like no other day. What kind of world is this? Beautiful women can be counted on the fingers of one hand of a loser-turner, but this minor miracle will already give ten points of handicap even to the Black Widow. And no, if I am exaggerating, then within very reasonable limits. And here's how to relate to this? How am I supposed to take it? What is this universe hinting at to me ?! It was like I flirted a couple of times with Ororo, and I was immediately written down as a pedophile, they say, I'm more than a thousand years older than her, which means - perverted? What the hell is going on here ?!

"…" only a frowning look from under his eyebrows answered my greeting.

" Hmm …" I sat down in front of the child and thought. My usual demeanor here clearly did not fit. What in general can you talk about with a ten-year-old girl who doesn't even have a name, but has training, albeit "initial"? "Let's get acquainted, my name is Loki. And what is your name?"

"Call sign: X-23," the girl answered succinctly, without blinking looking at me with brown eyes.

"Clearly," according to Rice's memory, adamantium was applied to her claws thirteen months ago, but the reaction to the smell of the "trigger" has been developed for a year and a half, starting at the age of eight. Fortunately, the latter work had not yet been completed, and the berserk state had not yet become a conditioned reflex. "Well, I came to take you to a place much better than this, will you come with me?"

"I am ready to follow you," hmm, it will be difficult.

"Okay, let's go," I straightened up and in one movement lifted this miracle in my arms. Of course, it would be worthwhile to be wary of her claws, but knowing the speed of Wolverine and Sabretooth, I will have time to dodge the little girl's hand ten times.

" Um?" the child, taken in his arms, fell into a stupor. Apparently, in this way she has never moved.

"What?"

" No, nothing, sir …"

"It is possible without sirs," I shrug. So, now let's go down the remaining corridor and visit Sarah.

"Hmm …" the girl's gaze rested on the body of the guard with a slit throat, which was spread in the middle of the corridor. True, the reaction ended there.

Still, Rice is a nerd, just like Kimura. If you really wanted to grow a reasonable weapon, then the first thing you need is to attend to its loyalty, and here the reaction is completely indifferent to the corpse of "her", in the future she would organize these corpses herself. Anyway, A new walk along the new corridor took another ten minutes and seven corpses - my illusory double was doing quite well, so I just walked forward with the child in my arms, and laboratory assistants were suddenly dying behind me in separate rooms.

Sarah was waiting for us in her study. She looked rather pale, however, it was not surprising - the woman had access to surveillance cameras and, since I personally did not block her line, she fully saw the "bloody path" organized by me and the methodical cleaning of the complex staff, so to assume that I will come and to her soul, she could. Moreover, the assumption was true. Somewhat.

"Miss Kinney," we politely smiled at the scientist, "good evening. Beautiful weather outside, isn't it?" I must say, the woman was somewhat prettier than most of the ladies of this universe, but she still did not live up to my requirements, and in general, I have a Storm ... well, hypothetically.

"Please ... not with the girl …" she answered with trembling lips, and the aforementioned girl in my arms tensed and, trying not to attract attention, shifted a little. So that it is more convenient to stick the claws under my chin. Good girl.

"No, no, I'm not going to kill you," X-23 in my arms immediately relaxed, "moreover, I came to you with an offer!"

"A proposal?" Sarah did not understand anything.

"No, not hands and hearts, you are not my type, but I think you will be interested in the opportunity to disappear from the radar of your employers and start a new life?"

"What will I owe for this?" You can see a person beaten by life, albeit frightened, albeit realizing that she does not have much choice, but has almost reached the point where a person begins to spit on himself, but the prospect of getting to the enemy's throat is inspiring. Let there be no "throat", but, it seems to me, between death and the offer to work for the next vivisectors, a woman will prefer the first.

"Absolutely nothing." I give the woman a discouraging smile. - And before you start arguing, let me introduce myself. My name is Loki. I, the God of Magic, create a phantom next to me, through whose lips I continue my speech: "Intrigue - another one" and a new switch, simultaneously with flicking my eyebrows, " and what is called trolling on the modern Internet. And lest you think too much," I say in three voices, "I happened to be here quite by accident. In general, I was busy with other things," the first phantom shrugged his shoulders, "but it just so happened, I found out about this place and decided to look in," the second one added. "Not for the sake of self-interest, but for the soul," I finished with my main body, slightly shaking Laura in my arms.

"It's hard to believe," the woman muttered distantly, constantly looking from one of my faces to another.

"And yet it's true."

" And the fact that you turned into a mare and gave birth to an eight-legged horse for Odin from another horse that belonged to some giant?" Did I say that I hate the Vikings with their interpretations of Loki's life? I am doubling ... no, I am tripling this statement! Why, that's why in Midgard only such stories are remembered about me?

" N-no," I could not completely hide my emotions, " I collected his genetic code in the Crucible of Souls, and then raised it in a test tube, but my close brother blabbed about it during another drunkenness on Earth, and stupid Scandinavian savages understood everything on your way."

"…" I think I broke it. "A-a-and ... how are you going to get me off the employers' radar?" - the scientist decided to change the subject.

" Well …" I glance at her, " let's say I know one school where a biology teacher would not hurt."

" Biology?" I love this misunderstanding on the faces of my interlocutors.

"Yes, you see, here a couple of months ago the Third World War almost happened, and since I cannot allow people to destroy their civilization, I had to sort it out. Since then I have landed at a private mutant school and have occasionally taught history. But our teaching staff is small, and there are a lot of spin-gnawing with superpowers, so they won't scold me much for revealing a secret address to you, if you take on some of the work yourself."

"World War III? The teaching staff? .. That is," Sarah closed her eyes with her hand, collecting her thoughts, " if you are a god ... why couldn't you allow people to destroy civilization?" It seems that she herself does not know what more she wants to ask.

"Potatoes," I answered exhaustively.

"What potatoes?" Her eyes went to her forehead. Moreover, for once, it was not me that was suspected of madness, but my own perception of reality.

" I really love potatoes, and this is an earthly plant, it is not cultivated either in Asgard, or in Vanaheim, or in Nidavellir, in general, it does not grow anywhere else in the immediate vicinity. Thus, if human civilization ceases to exist, I will lose the opportunity to eat my favorite dishes ... or I will have to personally collect mutated tubers in the radioactive wasteland, and this is very stressful. It is much easier to save you."

"… How did it come to this?" Shaking herself, but not very much recovering, the scientist asked helplessly into space.

"The truth is very difficult, you have to be ready for it," I nodded sympathetically to the left phantom. - And you also ask questions to the God of Intrigue. Of course, I restrain myself, but you are completely unprepared.

"But…" Kinney's hands moved to his forehead, trying to squeeze it, or massage it. "God the teacher ?!"

"What? I may be God, but everyone needs part-time jobs! You understand, the crisis of faith, Christianity, Islam, the Macaroni Monster, you have to somehow get out."

" …"

"Okay," I sigh, "you can consider me a bit of an eccentric mutant who really didn't like what they were doing here. Having questioned your former colleagues, I decided that, unlike them, you yourself are almost a prisoner. In addition, as I understand it, this girl has warm feelings for you - I just toss the X-23 in my hand, as if demonstrating what kind of girl we are talking about, - and I don't want to offend the little cute girls. Therefore, I am offered a job. In addition, the child really already needs the help of a psychologist.

"My psyche is absolutely stable, sir," the discussed one made the correction.

"I believe, but there is no socialization at all. Man, however, is a social being and he still cannot be without society," I explain to this fighting hamster with an instructive intonation, involuntarily smiling. I mean, I often smile, but here keeping a serious face was obviously beyond my strength - she brings her brows so sweetly! "So," the right phantom returned Sarah's attention to himself, "what do you say to my proposal? Not that I was in a hurry, but these dungeons are already a little sick of me."

"I agree," the woman closed her eyes.

She clearly did not trust me for a penny, but she understood that she had only three ways out - to go with me or, in case of refusal, either die by my hand, or remain alone in a complex filled with corpses, with a stolen "project" and without the ability to hide anywhere. So-so perspective. As for trust and other things, it will come over time. Well, even if not, even if Xavier's head hurts - he is our director, so let him puff out.

"Well. Then I had two questions."

"What kind?"

"Do you need to take something from here? I mean personal items. Do not think about any money, documents, clothes and other tinsel, I will provide you with this, and there should be no evidence that you escaped."

"Then it is not necessary," the woman shook her head.

"Well. Well, the second - what is the name of this miracle?" I lift the girl. - "Call sign: X-23" is clearly not suitable for a child.

"Laura," Sarah replied after a brief moment of thoughtfulness, "her name is Laura.

"Do you hear fighting hamsters?" I turn to the little girl who opens her eyes in surprise at Sarah's last words. "Your name is Laura, no more alphanumeric identifications!" The confused girl looked from her mother to me, but met only the trademark smile of the past owner of the body. I honestly wanted to make her warm and caring, but some slyly-cunning note still leaked out, and in general I put a pig on myself, because as soon as it was voiced, the phrase that punched the "hee-hee" sounded in my brain: "X -23 - fighting hamster. " Honestly, so ambiguous and, what is really there, only I could freeze a black sample of humor. " Well, everything, get off and go to mom," I put her on the floor, out of harm's way, "and Uncle Loki needs to work."

"Dr. Kinney?" Even more bewildered than before, the petty woman turned to the woman.

Instead of answering, she simply rushed to her and embraced her, reflexively feeling for integrity and health. Apparently, this is some kind of female instinct, because from a rational point of view, this child in this sense, in principle, could not risk anything.

"So, now wait calmly," having already estimated the complexion of the ladies, I estimate in my mind the parameters of the spell. "Somehow …" I put the spell into action, helping myself with the movement of my right hand, "so!" with the last sound, the clothes of the scientist and her daughter went golden-green tints, transforming into a desert-type military uniform, with minor modifications on the materials.

"What is it?" Sarah caught herself, examining the new sleeve of camouflage color.

" We have to walk a little, and doing it in heels or even barefoot is not the best idea. As we get to the nearest city, I will dress you in something less noticeable, but for now I ask for me" I turn to the door with all three bodies.

"We need to destroy the camera tapes, experimental data, samples…" Kinney jumped to her feet and began to list quickly.

"Alas, contrary to all the laws of the American cinema genre, there is no self-destruction system on this basis," I sigh, shrugging my shoulders. I specifically watched this moment in Rice's memory.

"But you can't leave it all! They can restore the project!"

"Of course, that's why I ask you to follow me as soon as possible. Now we will go out to the helicopters and fly away while I," I nod at the phantoms leaving the room, "will transform the local air into something explosive. Do you think an explosion of 1,500 cubic meters of propane will be able to remove the recordings from surveillance cameras?" I smile at the woman.

"BUT…"

"Laura, take your mother by the hand and help her not to get lost," I switch to a more stable listener. "We still have three hours to get to the US border, and I want to dine in civilization, not in the desert."

sharashka*- colloquial name of research institutes and design bureaus of a prison type, subordinate to the NKVD / Ministry of Internal Affairs of the USSR, in which convicted scientists, engineers and technicians worked