The misplaced mutant was sitting at the local ice cream shoppe, filling up on a triple choco chunk monstrosity. It seemed that chocolate performed the same function as liquor when it came to keeping her mind at bay. When Randall spotted her from the street and took a seat opposite the firl, she grunted and pushed one of the three orders of sweets in front of her friend. That thought amused her. He was about as close to a friend as she was able to fathom, yet she knew what they had was not a proper friendship. More like a comfortable working relationship.

             As they indulged, a shadow passed over the counter. That bulk of a cyborg stood behind Nine, looking about as menacing as possible, but once he caught the scientist's eye he gave a polite smile and wiggled his fingers in a wave just over Nine's head before clearing his throat. Nine knew full well that he was standing behind her, but frankly she chose to ignore him, at least until she finished her dessert. "I'm glad I found you two," Brimstone began, not waiting for and invitation. "Something big's happened to your boss man. Really big." Still no reaction from the girl. "He sort of stole something from Timothy.. it's... it's not good, no matter how you slice it."

             "What did he take?" Randall asked, seeing that Nine wasn't about to take the bait.

             "His DNA... a sample of it." Of that fact BS seemed a bit muffled, biting his lower lip before continuing. "It seems he wasn't to enhance his psionic abilities and he's acting really Desperate. He must be if he's pilfering unstable molecules.. but.. that's not the real problem."

             "Well, all that would explain the secretive behavior," Randall commented as he saw that Nine was still busy shoveling spoonfuls of ice cream down her throat and a quicker pace. "So, what's the problem?"

             "The sample, Unfortunately Tim's not inhabiting his own body..."

             That brought Nine's head around, almost in a full 180 degree pitch. She still didn't say anything so Brimstone blundered on before he lost his nerve. "It was a fluke, really. His son's body is ''pathic.. but it's.. well kind of kinetic too."

             "This sounds bad," Randall moaned.

       Nine's countenance couldn't be more hateful. "Tristan. He was one of the rogue mutants roaming

 Southern Cross. Bad news. Hit and run tactics mostly, yet they never did catch him." She stood up and pushed the bowl away from her before turning and staring up at BS, barely clearing his breastplate yet holding such a command even for her dainty size. "Are you telling me my psychotic Captain is funneling high- grade mutated material into his veins?"

             "You forgot unstable mutated material. And I expect that your humans go just as batty as our whenever they tank up on this kind of stuff. As it is, he says he's got Big plans for you. Has had them since he started this little foray. From what Tim gathered, none of it was very nice. I'll spare you the gruesome details."

             Nine's glare never changed. All she did was leave some coins next to the empty bowl, gather up her gear, and march out into the street; heading straight to the pirate's tavern. Randall just shook his head. "I don't like the sound of this. No wonder Skipper kept himself locked up all this time."

             The 'borg watched her go. "Yeah, that crossed my mind too. that's why I figured I'd give youse guys the heads up." Brimstone turned and rested his fleshed hand on Randall's shoulder. "And she ain't that far behind him. You can feel... well.. I can feel it. She's a ticking time bomb."

             "Nine is holding up much better than the Skipper," Randall lied.    "Really? From what Tim was able to tell me, Rooslan's been pushing her the whole time." Again the robotically enhanced man lightly tapped Randall's shoulder. "You'll just have to watch over her and be a constant for her, 'cause if she goes...." All he could do was shake his head as he stepped backwards. The walls of the parlor as if he was being absorbed by the woodwork. Randall finished his ice cream then rushed into the street to catch up with Nine.

             Brimstone was halfway home when Timothy suddenly stepped out from behind a tree. The fact that the psi was able to stand so shortly after his rough ordeal with Rooslan was a testament to how resilient the mutant was. He still looked haggard as his body was still wearing out, but the Rex still had a glimmer in his eye, and that normally spelt trouble. "You just HAD to tell her, didn't you? Ain't she nervous enough?"

             BS snorted, then side-stepped his kinsman. "At least I Gave her fair warning. You Want her to get spooked so she'd kickstart that atomic blast she's toting about. You're almost as bad at that psycho commander!"

       "Not necessarily," Tim found himself jogging beside Brimstone, attempting to keep up with the larger man's ground-eating strides. "Besides, I didn't see You intervening when that nut job tranked and snagged me."

             "That was a miscalculation on my part. For that error, I apologize."

             "Apologize? He could have sucked out my brain!" The Rex took two more steps, then stumbled as he realized why his comrade-in-metallic-arms hadn't come to his rescue. "You Wanted him to take me?"

             The larger man nodded. "I was hoping he'd either pull all of you out and into himself. I figured he'd go after then talent, not the genes. I guessed wrong, and I sure didn't want to tell you, not if he went prying around in your brain." The cyborg snorted. "I didn't think you'd be that slow on the uptake, though. I guess you Are slipping."

             "So you thought that he would take me in, and me being the more skilled of the two, would commandeer the body. Shrewd. Even for you. Apology accepted, for now." He again broke out into a trot to tail the bionic man. "So what now? Sabotage his experiments? Blow him to smithereens?"

             The 'borg looked back with his red lensed eye. "Oh I'm quite sure you've got a whole case of contingency plans lined up for events like this, Tim. That's what you're known for." Brimstone still had that cold slant edging his words, finding the Rex's handling of this alternate form of Aurora quite distasteful. After all these years, he figured that the psi's perceptions of Aurora would have at least matured, but then again, dealing with the woman would set anyone's teeth on edge. They were just all so... bullheaded. Nevertheless, distant kin or now, they had an obligation. Brimstone just wasn't sure what kind of obligation.

             The bar was quite crowded, but that fact didn't deter Nine as she set her jaw and navigated across the floor to the serving counter. Her eyes darted around the room as she walked. Crow was there, but she was in no mood to match wits with him. Not now. She had way too much churning in her mind. There was that Winston fellow, sort of laying in his booth looking, well, dead. They called him a wraith, but he looked more like a fresh corpse than a ghost, barely animated. His breath came in sporadic huffs, barely strong enough to move the long locks of raven hair from his face.  

            None of these shipmates mattered right now. She leaned over the bar and poured herself a mugful, then a second as she sensed Randall coming up through the throng behind her. She made sure to leave a small stack of coins to cover the scientist's drink as he was not a proper member of the crew. "Glad I caught up with you," Randall gasped, having lost his breath while trying to follow Nine in the crowd.

             "I would think you should be running for the hills." She took several swallows of the bitter brew. "You know if Rooslan tries to take me I'll kill him, or at least try to. You know that, right?" Even the strange sword Hybrid vibrated in agreement.

             Randall smiled, a strange reaction Nine thought. "Let's just say I think I can be of more use

dealing with this problem."

             "Like what? You heard that walking tin can! If he manages to get both psionics under his belt, nobody will be able to stop him. Definitely not me!" She seemed to be on the verge of tears, a rare sight for any of the pirate crew that were watching.

             The scientist seemed undaunted. "I've finally got the scanner problem licked. If I can catch his frequency, I can make a jammer."

             Nine narrowed her eyes. "Right. You've never read Tristan's wrap sheet, have you? He lifts large buildings and drops them on people. Those left standing were just mind- manipulated into attacking their own Militant outposts. We NEVER caught him. In fact they yanked me off tracking just in case we did run across him. Now imagine That talent inside a Militant. I think we're dead. Well, you'll be dead. I'll be dissected on some lab table."

             He could see she was on the verge of losing it. "I still think we can make this thing work. After all psionic energy is still a form of energy wave. I just need to generate a counter wave. that's all."

             She wasn't hearing any of it, and the brew wasn't calming her down either. A least the current throng of people was thinning out, save for Crow, now flanked by a flouncy blond-haired orphan-looking child filled with light and energy, so much that if even seemed to soften Crow up a bit. Lana had emerged from somewhere and was talking to Crow while pouring some juice for the half-grown girl. Deadman Weston was still sitting in his booth, carefully listening in on Nine's conversation.

             "Doc," She was close to begging at this point. "You can't stop him. You'd do better just to get away from me when he comes."

             "I won't abandon a friend," he insisted.

       Nine snorted, finding Randall to be heroically stupid, and moved away, as if putting distance between them would lessen the scientist's resolve. She paused as she passed Weston's table, watching a slight head movement. When she stopped, so did Randall as he was about two steps behind the girl. He pulled out his scanner and pointed it at the strange dead creature, only to have Nine shove his arm aside. "Will you cut that out!?" she barked.

             But even she had to look twice. Weston's body wasn't quite solid to start with. Cautiously she extended her hand to poke at the soggy flesh, only to have Weston move, jerking his hand upwards to grip her in a firm handshake. It felt like an old sink sponge. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked firmly but politely.

             Nine resisted the urge to yank her hand free, instead slowly releasing her grip, thankful he did the same. "I.. er.. well.. I've never quite seen anything like you... exactly.. I mean. It's like you're half phased... like you're stuck."

             Weston nodded. He'd been listening in on Nine for some time and was please that she and her

 cohort were versed in the technological terms used to describe what he was. "That is correct. I only partially exists in the physical plane of existence. I also live in the meta-physical one. As near as they can tell, I am what is known as a wraith."

             Nine's mind was churning again. "A wraith? That's a ghost, isn't it? So, you're like.. dead?"

            Randall was more fascinated with the mode, not the name. "An interdimentional existence. Fascinating."

"Yes," again Weston nodded, the wet, black hair blocking most of his features. "I died roughly

 one hundred and four years ago."

             Nine looked the body over again. "You're holding up well for being dead. I could only hope..."

             There was an argument brewing at the bar. "I want a tab," the shabbily dressed man insisted at the counter. "And I want a bottle of whiskey on that tab!"

             Lana's eyes narrowed. "No tabs here. Ye want whiskey, then you pay up front in gold. If ye don't like the rules of the tavern, be off w'ye."

             "I accept," he smiled mischievously. "I Love rules." He dug around in his pockets, pulling out a cheap cigarette case in which he kept his coins. "How much for the bottle."

             "Ten gold."

             He just about choked. "Ten Gold!?"

       "Aye. Prices are dear in this tavern."

              Nine would have moved to lend a fist if Lana needed it, but Crow, or Sebastian as he insisted in a grumbling voice was his new name, was still off her flank. Another one of the buccaneers, Ataru, was slowly moving to an optimal launching pad should this customer prove to be feisty. Content with the coverage, Nine sat down in the booth, Randall scooching in after her. "So, what's it like to be dead? Does it hurt?" She figured to gather as much information as she could, since there was a good chance she would soon be joining Weston in his other domain.

             And the man suddenly sat straight up. He'd been through this "interview" process a few times. "Dying did hurt, but since then I cannot actually "feel" anything. Though I can gauge distance from object to object, I am little more than a manifestation of an ethereal being."

             "So how did you end up in a spongy body? Did you drown?"

             "No, my 'body' us mostly air and water molecules manipulated from the metaphysical plane. I'm more solid there."

             "Well then, if we go by what people call things around here, you'd be more of a water elemental then, right?" The bickering over the bottle price had mellowed some, now that Lana had some muscle to back up the bar's rights. The little girl had grabbed a handful of darts and was throwing them at the board. She was doing so-so, but seemed thrill if it came slightly close to the big red spot in the center. Once she was clear of ammunition, she tried to retrieve the darts, but found one too high to reach. Nine gestured slightly for them to pause their discussion, then she headed over to the dart board and retrieved the last dart. "Here you go."

             "Thank you, Ma'am."

             " 'Ma'am'? I'm barely older than you, I bet!" She tussled the child's hair in a friendly manner, then returned to her seat, giving the bar by Lana another glance. Ataru now had his blade to the rude man's throat. He'd gotten his bottle but still had yet to pay for it, and was dearly close enough to pay with his life if he kept pushing the pirates' patience, especially when he started chugging down the contents quickly. The swordsman paused, then slowly lowered his blade, then picked up the nearest bottle and smashed it over the alcohol-thief's head, sending him into the floorboards.

            Lana nodded. "Looks like Ataru has things well in hand."

             As Ataru toted the unconscious body out the door, Nine headed back to the corpse and the scientist as they talked softly. "My brother.. disfigured me," he admitted cautiously.

             "Really? Can we see?"

             It may have been rude for Nine to ask, but Weston obliged her, pulling back the wet mop of hair to expose his face. His eyes were brown, but had the glazed milky white color of dead eyes that eerily focused on her. The oxygen deprived pale blue lips were extended as slashes pulled back along his cheeks, giving him a ghastly smile. Add to that the cross etched crudely on his brow and she could see why he kept everything under wraps. She had seen worse, but most people didn't see the carnage she had, especially in a bar. As the dead man let his hair flop back into his face, a squeal brought Nine's head around. This time it was pleasant circumstances as the little girl was once again throwing darts. She had come very close to a bulls-eye and was ecstatic at the prospect. The last dart struck its mark and the girl went wild, jumping all about. Her outburst even drew Lana's and Sebastian's attention from whatever discussion they were ensconced in. "Cute kid," Randall smirked.

             Again Nine made her way over to the board, plucking the darts from the board to hand back to the little girl.

             That's then she saw that hulking mammoth of a man from the Thorny Rose enter in the bar.

            Once again there was blood smeared all over his face, adding to Nine's paranoia. "When it rains, it pours," she sighed then slipped over to Randall whom also had seen the blood covered giant. "Doc, you better just slide on outta here now afore that guy tries tearing my head off."
           The new player seemed more interesting in drink than a fight as he sat on one of the stools, the wood groaning in protest. "Tender?" he called out softly. He seemed stunned, at a loss as to where the blood had come from.
           Lana was still in deep discussion with Sebastian, but paused, nodding to Ataru as he cleaned up the broken glass from the last customer. "Can you tend to the customer please?"
           Nine was also on the move, pausing by the little girl. "Can I borrow one of those darts for a moment, please?"
           "Of course you can, Ma'am!" the girl was still giddy with the satisfaction of her first bull’s-eye.
           "It's not Ma'am, dear. It's Nine. My name is Nine."
           "I'm Amy!" she beamed back. "Nice ta meet you.. but.. can I ask you a question?"
           "Sure." Nine's attention was mostly on the hulk of a man at the bar.
           "Why is your name Nine?"
           Only from the mouths of babes, the mutant thought. "That was my rank, long “Go. A-9. But since nobody else left is in that rank, I just go by Nine. Now, why don't you go find your Daddy and tell him how well you threw those darts!" Ataru was serving her stalker a bottle of vodka, giving her time to clear the innocents out of the line of fire without panicking them.
           "But my Daddy's not here!"
           "Then tell you what. Why don't you go over by Weston there and tell him how well you threw. You know he can't see to far with his head all facing the wrong way like that."

              Amy sulked a bit, kind of sensing that something was going on, but not quite fully aware what it was and thought it was some fun she was being steered away from. She did listen and head over to Weston's table, leaving Nine to continue her course towards the big man at the bar. Akaru had already given the big man a bottle of vodka along with some cherry tobacco for his pipe. Nine wasn't phased by this calm and amiably social behavior. She was sure this man was sent to kill her, or somehow subdue her on behalf of Rooslan and she wasn't going to go willingly. It was going to be a one-sided fight as this guy was easily four times her bulk if not more so she was calculating on getting the first shot in and making it good. The dart clenched in her fist behind her back would do some damage if properly used. She hung by his right elbow even as he stuff the pipe with the fresh leaves and lit up. She'd probably be bounced from the crew as she was initiating this attack. She preferred to call it a pre-emptive first strike tactic. A glance back revealed that Weston was guarding her back. The corpse now had a strange hatched in hand, just under the table, out of sight of taller folk, and at the ready, even as he listened to Amy's retelling of her bull’s-eye. Buoyed by this knowledge, she cleared her throat. "Are you still stalking me? This is like the third place now."

He remained calm, inhaling slowly before allowing the smoke to waft from the sides of his

mouth. "I am not stalking you. You are of little interest to me."

  "Then how is it that you always seem to end up in the same bar or inn right after I get

there? Three times is Not a charm."

              The big man almost chuckled. "This place has excellent service and doesn't discriminate. The other encounter was pure luck. I was meeting a high-end client."

              "I bet. Seems you're always wiping blood off your face every time I see you. I hope you got paid well."

  "Quite well." A pun slipped into the man's head, but he thought better no to say it. Instead he

opened the bottle of vodka.

  But Nine wouldn't let it go. "So how much is he paying you? Or are you just to soften me up

 for him to finish off later?"

  "He?"

  "Rooslan. I know he's out to get me. He must feel I need to be tenderized a bit before he

shows his rotting face."

  The hulk of a fellow turned back to his bottle. "Never heard of the man."

  That's when she swung her arm around attempting to plunge the dart into his kidney, hoping

to do enough damage to slow him down when he turned to attack her. Her plan was to lure the man out into the open street where she could let Hybrid at him as protocol wouldn't let her unsheathe the sword in the bar. The pirates would probably bounce her out for provoking this attack anyhow, but she had to nip this problem in the bud before it bit her back. 

            However she was thwarted at the first step. Somehow the dart and her hand became tangled up in the thick cloak the man wore, sending her strike of- center. "Hey!" the man protested, spinning around and accidentally entangling the mutant further into the fibers. Her curses were muffled under the cloth as she began to panic, unable to punch, bite, or kick her opponent. Of course the man was trying his best to shake her free of his clothing. 

            Finally he undid the clasp at his neck and she stumbled backwards from him. "You can tell the

psionic sonofabitch that I ain't going back!" she railed from somewhere under the cloth.

            "What psion are you talking about?" the muscular man cried out, totally at a loss as to why this woman insisted that he was going to harm her. He stood up, his white linen shirt stretched tight over his built frame. He sighed and tried to untangle her until she tumbled out of the fabric. 

She still had the dart clutched and her hair was splayed in every direction as static electricity rolled off the woolen cape. The effect made her look even more insane, if that was possible. "Rooslan, of course!" she spat. "He sent you to capture and/ or kill me. It's That obvious!"

            He stared down at the tiny girl that looked more like some half- plucked chicken than someone to be feared and he had to bust out laughing. "Lady, you are one paranoid little woman." He picked up his rumpled cloak and shook it out.

            "I AM NOT! You can ask Doc...." She turned to see that Randall had indeed taken her words of warning to heart and had slipped out of the tavern. "Damn."

            "Look," the man offered as some sort of consolation. "I don't work for psions. I hunt them for a living." He tapped the pipe into the palm of his hand to clear the ashes before pocketing it once again then re-attached the cloak to his shoulders. He saw that his words had somehow wrinkled their way into her brain as her guard seemed to slip slightly. He tapped his temple with a meaty finger to clarify some of her confusion. "No psion can get through this maze."

            Nine slowly backed away from the fellow to stand next to the table where Weston and Amy sat, placing the now mangled dart on the table. She still kept a stance, shielding her shipmates should this monster of a man show a different streak and attack, but the man backed away then turned and headed to the door, pausing just long enough to gentle open it before slipping out into the street. Only then did Nine sink into the chair, deflated. "Man, this has become on hell of a day."

            "Such things happen," Weston intoned. "I trust the potential threat is over?"

            The mutant couched her head in her hands, barely keeping her nerves in check. "Gods I hope so. It's just been so much. I just found out today that my old boss wants to chop me up and dole me out in itty bitty pieces for a cadre of scientist to pour over and use to enhance their own little army. I keep telling him that he's got it wrong, but he's gone Right over the deep end. Now I got this oaf of a guy following me everywhere." She looked up at Weston, the harrowing ordeal plain in the girl's eyes. "And you see how well I handle an attack. Even with an advantage, I missed. Miserably. I'm quickly becoming nothing." Her eyes darted to the door as the aforementioned oaf slipped back into the bar, heading over to the counter to retrieve the pouch of tobacco. Nine watched him, but kept up her diatribe. "What little talent I had has flown the coop. May as well call me human." She didn't make the word "human" sound appealing at all.

            The hulking man paused at her table, looking down at her. "You're not human," he grumbled, barely audible.

            "No, I'm not," she agreed in the same tone. She heard a metallic tapping under the table and felt the brush of the dead man's hatchet against her leg. Weston was offering his weapon.

            But there was no need. "I can tell," the massive muscular man nodded. "You're....." He paused, thinking better of himself and turning on his heel, heading back to the door, pausing once again. "I know you both want to attack me, but I have done nothing, nor will I, even if you attack me." He saw the unrelenting look in Nine's eyes. "I'm glad I didn't finish my thought," he mumbled again, then was back out into the street.

            Nine didn't relax until the man's shadow passed from the doorway. Only then did she turn to the wraith. "Am I being too paranoid?"

            Weston had withdrawn the weapon and pulled his hand out from under the table. "It's really a matter of perspective. You have someone that wants to kill you. I know of several people that have been attempting to infiltrating this guild. There is also a good chance your friend is still outside listening in on us. Taking all this in regard, I doubt your paranoia is groundless." He scootched over, allowing Amy to sit up next to him, now that the threat was gone.

            "So what do I do? Surrender and let Rooslan make mutant sushi out of me?"

            "I know!" Amy offered excitedly. "Get Dad and Melody to help!"

            "No." Weston shook his head to both opinions. "I suggest you learn to defend yourself and the sooner the better."

            Nine picked up the dart and pushed it across the table towards Amy. The feathers were a bit mangled and the tip was bent in two places; but Nine did return the tiny weapon as promised. "My defenses are far and few nowadays. Here. Watch."

            Amy had picked up the dart, staring at the damage done to the heavy tip. Now it wiggled in her fingers, then slowly lifted up as Nine closed her eyes, furrowing her brows as she tried to concentrate. She dreaded doing this but the wraith seemed to have a calm head on his shoulders and some experience. The child would probably consider her talents as magic. Either way, she wanted to show Weston her problem. At first the object seemed to behave, but then it slowly tilted, wobbled, then suddenly shot out at a ninety degree angle, pinging off a bottle before imbedding itself into the wooden floorboards. "See?" she gestured. "I can barely control it now, what little I've got left."

            Weston had watched the demonstration with quite some interest, thought it was hard to see any emotion in the barely animated corpse. "You know there is a human aboard, Oz Ricari, whom managed to best a vampire in unarmed combat. He has no special gifts other than a firm knowledge of self."

            "Unarmed combat? I dunno. I can't even get Hybrid to let go of me, much less me fight unarmed." She thumbed a finger to the blade as it appeared to stare back from over her shoulder.

            "If that were so, why did you not sue the blade against that man?"

            "Not enough room to start with, plus I wired him to me so nobody else would get accidentally hurt." She pulled the lone line of hemming away from her neckline to reveal the wires crossing her torso. She had learned that Hybrid had some sort of psionic link to her. If she became upset, he was apt to literally fly off the handle and attack that which upset her. With the wires in place, he would struggle, but the cords would cut into her flesh, causing her pain. the blade would immediately let up rather than allow its mistress any discomfort, even in the heat of battle. "I won't hurt my shipmates," she stated as she allowed the fabric to slip back into place. "Besides, he literally has my back covered. You can never be sure whose lurking in the crowd behind you."

            "You would make a damn fool of yourself."

            Both mutant and wraith were startled by the big man's statement. Apparently he'd once again entered the bar and had overheard their conversation, but before the could answer him, the turned and left again.

            "What did he say?"

            "He said you'd make a damn fool of yourself," Amy parroted, sort of listening in on the conversation, but like most children, not truly paying attention to the matter.

            "I told you he was listening outside. Your paranoia does have grounds."

            Weston's observation did nothing to sooth the jittery mutant. "Fight him? Unarmed? That would be nuts."

            "What would be so 'nuts'? If you had training in such, you'd not only put up a good fight, but probably have won."

            Nine sat back, resting a hand on the child's head and tousling her hair. "No... I've got to learn to pick my fights. But learning to fight unarmed..." She did ponder the point a moment, looking down to catch the child yawning, exposing a set of fangs. This must be the Daywalker Zigg was talking about. Sweet child. "I've always had a weapon, usually a high-tech highly explosive one. I suppose you Could teach me a move or two?"

            "I might be able to show you a few tricks to disable a larger opponent."

            Nine was nodding as she formulated her next moves. "I'd like to learn. I'd just hope I can learn enough in time, but it will have to be later. I gotta go find Doc afore somebody enslaves him or something. Besides, he's got a pistol I want, though I may have to let him keep it. He's almost as good a shot as me."

            "Here." The wraith held forth the hatchet from earlier. "Until you can get to a weapon of more use. Your sword seems of little use in close combat."

            Even as Hybrid grumbled at Weston's comment, Nine was testing the balance of the dead man's weapon. It was of a cobalt steel blue with an onyx black head. Runic symbols were etched along the edge and it seemed to crackle with a black static charge. Frankly it gave her the creeps. It almost felt spongy like its owner and the charge seemed to clash against her own rhythms, but she didn't want to seem rude so she kept the offering, hanging it from the simple leather strap that served as the all- purpose belt. At least it was much lighter than it appeared. Perhaps it was undead as well. "Thanks," she told the substantial specter, giving him a military salute, more in thanks for his help in combination with old habits, before heading out to find her errant scientist friend.

            The woman tried her best to keep things as sane as possible in the tavern. The wolf standing in the kitchen dripping wet from its recent bath sure didn't help in keeping that illusion together. Add to that Ataru's outrage at having the animal in the place and you had the makings of an outlandish sit-com program. "That Mutt Ain't Stayin' Here Sonya!!" he insisted.

            "Yes it is!" she retorted, carefully trying to comb out the knots in the thick coat. "Besides she's cleaner than you are and she's Not a mutt!"

            The wolf seemed inclined to agree. She bolted from the caring of the brush and ran out the door, taking a moment to nip playfully at Ataru's ankle. "Damn beast!" he snarled.

            Apparently the damned beast had human friends as a woman peeked into the tavern, watching the duo fling wet towels at each other. "Did you guys see a wolf come through here?"

            "Yes," Sonya replied. "I just gave it a bath, but Ataru scared it away." She sidled up next to the offending man and Chastised him by slapping the back of his head.

            "I'll help clean up the mess." The wolf's friend insisted, though both Ataru and his female friend noticed the girl smelled very much like a freshly bathed and shampooed wolf. The barely teen-aged Amy skirted around the cleanup crew, picking up a towel and slipping into the bathroom to deal with her newly acquired injures.

            Through all this, Ataru seemed seething in ire even as he gestured at the girl swabbing the deck. "If you only knew the First of it/ You better keep that.. that... that.. CREATURE out of here!"

            It was at this unfortunate time that Megan opened the bar doors. She caught the last line and thought it was directed at her, especially since it seemed the fighter was pointing in her direction. She thought to just back out and leave the tavern, but there was a knot of unfairness in her chest. She was a member of the crew, same as him, and she should be allowed to enter. That and the need for a drink seemed to pull her in by her tongue. Verbally injured, but driven for relief, she stepped inside. She did keep her distance from the pirate, not wanting to upset him further, but she so desperately needed a drink to steady her nerves. Ataru saw the pained look in the girl's eyes and saw his mistake. "Not you," he grumped.

"Ataru," Sonya chided. "You really need to be more nice. Don't make me kick the snot out of you."

            "Be Nice?!" he snarled with indignation. "Was she nice when she Deserted me?!"

            The wolf girl seemed more amiable, especially since she saw Nine's body posture as a sign that she didn't care for Ataru. C'mon in. He won't bite, and if he does, I got your back."

            Frankly, if Nine mistrusted Ataru, she certainly wasn't sure of this wolven person. She reached over her shoulder and patted the gold and black twisted handle of her sword. "I've already got something covering my back."

            But something still nagged at Ataru, and he finally spilled it as his chest heaved under his stressed breathing. "Yes... Onyx... I Know it's you."

            The girl seemed shocked as well, slamming her hand on the counter, causing Nine to jump and Sonya to cautiously watch the two interact. "Maybe we need some counseling?" she quietly suggested.

            The tension mounted. Slowly the woman drew out an ornate card and held it out at arm's length. "You... I knew! You forgot me easily enough!"

            Nine scooted down the bar, far away from the action and impending fight. She could feel aura's building already. It also brought her closer to the keg, which was what she wanted in the first place and helped herself to whatever was on tap. From her seat she saw Amy emerge from the back rooms, a big shiner was developing under one eye and her lip was split in two places. She talked quietly to her mother, but Nine was still able to pick up most of the conversation. "You need to stop fighting," Sonya insisted.

            "The day they stop trying to Kill me is when I'll stop fightin'."

            Well, this conversation was more in what she was currently dealing with. She grabbed her mug and scooted closer to the girl, and further away form the accusatory escalating yelling match. Onyx saw how the other patrons of the bar were reacting to their squabble and tried to calm her brother. "Bring your voice Down!"

            Nine may never be a mother, but the instinct was there... kind of. She made her way over to Amy. "What happened? Those two didn't do this to you, did they?" She gestured over at the squabbling duo. Frankly she didn't put anything past this pirate family as internal rendings seemed to be the predominate problems with this guild.

            "Them?" Amy almost laughed out loud at the suggestion. "No, just a couple of slayers gain. Nothing to worry about, right?"

            "No." Nine stated coldly. "Just.. lemme see that eye." She had to bend down slightly to eyeball the bruise in the dim light of the bar. "Hm... don't think the orbital socket is cracked. Should be okay. I'd say put a steak over it, but I'm not sure if that works on your kind. You're a vamp, right?" She had caught the underlying smell of stale blood on the girl, marking her as one of the undead.

            "WHY YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARD!!" The shout from Onyx caused both girls to wince. There were several people trying to calm the siblings down and failing miserably. The sister had her hands clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms and drew blood. A man dressed in rolls of loose black fabric held back Ataru's shoulder, talking a stream of common-sensed words into his ear. Nine would have pegged this sensible man as a cleric of some sort, except the shock of white hair didn't seem "priestly" for the man. That and he seemed somehow more a pirate than a man of god. As a last ditch effort to keep what was left of the peace, Ataru stormed into the kitchen and downed a flagon of water to cool his temper.

            With the lull, Amy answered Nine's inquiries. "I'm Vampyre; born of Human and Vampire."

            "A mutt then," the mutant nodded. "Not to shabby. You must be the Daywalker Zigg was bragging about." Now came he barrage of questions. "Do you feed like a vamp then. or do you resist that particular urge."

            "Both," Amy answered shortly.

            "Hm." Nine ran a skilled hand over the girl's bottom lip. "Nope. Don't need stitches, but then I assume you heal quicker than most."

            They both jumped again, this time as some arch-angelic creature slammed his Jager's hammer into the counter, sinking the weapon at least three inches into the woodwark. Apparently he was sparring for a fight. It was the preist-ish imp that answered the call and the two men left happily together to spar in the authorized arena down the wharf. Nine snorted at the flexing of temperament in the bar then turned back to the fanged teen-ager. "You know, maybe you need an escort. Do these attacks happen often?"

            'I can handle it!" Amy snorted in almost the same gruff manner.

            A manner that made Nine smile for the first time in weeks. "You sound just like me. Trust me. There is always somebody better than you out there. You have to be careful. Very careful."

            "I am. Usually they come after me only in twos or threes."

            Nine had to reach over and rough up the girl's already wild hair. "Still... if you need help, come see me." As she ruffed up the girl's 'do, Nine's gaze once again shifted to where the action was. Or wasn't. At least not in the gut-rending skin flaying way. The girl was now sifting through the rest of her strange cards. turning them over one by one. Several people watched with interest. Weston had "ghosted" his way into the bar and was looking down from the rafters. Only Amy wasn't interested. Something else was prying at the girl's mind, but Nine respected her privacy. Unlike some slimy commanders she knew and hated. Ataru seemed to have his hands full with Sonya as she hasselled him, wanting to feed. Another vampire, Nine noted, even as Ataru tried to stave off her advances angrily with is sword. Apparently Ataru and her were an item of some sort, though it seemed the vampire had the stronger hand in the relationship.

She watched as Amy took her leave. No doubt there would be trouble but Nine was unsure on how to handle it. Slayers Amy had called them. No doubt skilled at killing vampires. Nine did wonder briefly as she settled down to watch Onyx play with her card if these slayers might be interested in a different type of gig, mainly getting rid of psionically enhanced psychopaths.

            The normally moody mutant was in a less than sullen mood when she visited the bar the next day. Lana was tending, chatting with Ataru and Zigg about some new pirate in town. Drake, Nine gleaned from the conversation as she settled in her chair, wrapping the tattered cape around herself, trying to keep out the night chill. "I think he's a bit of a boaster," Ataru snorted."A bit of a 'hunt for trophy' type person. He seemed the more outspoken as Zigg just sat, twirling his knife on the tabletop, being somewhat sullen. He was dressed nice enough, but the tussled hair told Nine that he'd just recently been in a scuffle. A third man joined them, Fallon. He also bore many scars on his bare torso as he looked over the bar for an ale. Yep, a ragged band of fighters.

            Lana seemed soured by Ataru's frank comments. "He never boasted about a thing in here," she grumbled.

            "Well.. not Boasted per say, but he thinks... highly of himself. I can see it in the way he treats you."

            The bartendress snorted, Obviously growing annoyed. "I think he's rather wonderful, even if he is always yelling at me."

            "Whose yelling at you, Lana?" Nine finally asked, curious about the conversation.

            "Captain Drake Gradian." The woman seemed almost giddy in the reply, her eyes dancing with a new spark of life. "He goes back and forth between absolutely wonderful to being a great bloody oaf. However, I do admit that I seem to vex him sorely at times. He's very impatient with my ways."

            Nine didn't need to be very bright to see that the girl was smitten with this man, whomever he was, and Nine made sure Not to make any slighted comments, especially since she hadn't met the fellow first hand. "It seems like this whole crew drifts from 'wonderful' to 'bloody oaf'. I just thought it was a family thing."

            Lana had to laugh at the comment and her eyes continued their romantic drift. "I am tempted to go to him, but I do not want anyone to think I am a whore."

            Ataru seemed to be very open with his observations of the whole affair and spoke without malice. "He plays you, Lana, by making you angry then sorry."

            Again her danger was up. "No man shall have ME over a barrel! He has been nothing but kind to me, and perhaps I owe him this. the other night he was wounded by a crew member and tonight he had to put up with all sorts of foolishness. I stomped on his foot and tried to punch him in the jaw. I suppose that was rather unreasonable."

            "You were trying to help someone," Ataru argued, turning slightly to watch Crow make his way into the bar. "He acted badly tonight. Not you."

            "How did he act badly?" Lana bristled.

            Nine had scooted out of harms way, watching tempers flare quickly. "And I thought My kind were wound up tight.... yeesh..." The room was filling up quickly as Sonya showed up, wearing Fallon's shirt. Another match Nine mused, maybe with a bit of sour grapes. Sure there were potential mates here, but frankly none of them struck her in that manner, nor did they seem that interested in her. Probably a good thing. She was still young, barely of breeding age. Even though her military contract stated that she had to attempt to produce viable offspring, there was still plenty of time to fulfill that particular subsection. If she ever got back home.

            She cased the room, spotting Crow across the way but didn't bother to scowl at him. She had bigger worries on her mind and frankly she knew where her problem stood with him. He was right. She had to learn to forgive, but it was not him that she needed to atone.. it was her. He wouldn't understand and she knew if she attempted to explain what the underlying problem was, he would just become that much more agitated with her. Finally her gaze settled on Zigg. He seemed distant from the conversation, staring down at the weapon in his hand as he twirled the knife on the table. She made her way over to him. "Hey... you okay?" she asked, gingerly resting a hand on his fighting arm should he instinctively flinch and slash as any unwary predator would.

            Instead he blinked a few times, then looked up at her. "Uh.. oh.. sorry.. yeah.. I'm good."

            "You don't seem that good. Way beyond spacey even." She slid down in the seat opposite him. "What's up?"

            "Nothin'. Just ain't really in the mood ta talk about all the stupid blowhard bullshit I be takin'. Just figured I'd stay over here."

            The other half of Lana's argument. That Nine had no doubt in. It did put a crimp on asking the man's opinion about this no-weapon fighting style she wanted to learn. Weston had said that Zigg was good at it too, and she wanted to learn from a variety of people. But gathering from the growing tension radiation out from Lana's bickering with Ataru, there would be no calm discussions today. "Ah.. well.. then I'll bug you later then and leave you to.. well.. to whatever you're doing." She would have actually pried him a bit, but just then that oversized bald-headed monster of a man wandered into the bar, the one from the Rosey Thorn inn. "Oh Sweet Jesus on a stick. Excuse me, Zigg."

            Her shipmate nodded, returning to his mindless knife spinning, not taking notice of the change in Nine's tone. She inhaled slowly, then marched right over and blocked the monstrous man's path even as he reached for a bottle of vodka on the counter. "You are really pressing your luck, Mister."

            He rolled his eyes downward to see the petite girl once again. "Luck? I fell off a mast today. I don't know if that's luck." He put fifteen in gold down on the counter to pay for his drink.

            That remark caught Nine off- tempo and took some of the thunder out of her sails. "You fell off a mast? What were you doing climbing one?"

            The muscle-bound man sighed. "I'm leaving with the tide and I needed to fix my sail."

            Any fight Nine had left was gone, her mind filling up with confusing questions. "Leaving? So you're not gonna try to kill me first?"

            He snorted, then busted out laughing. "Only if you pay me to, and then I probably wouldn't. "You're too cute for that." He comment made her blush badly, though he could see she was more confused than embarrassed. "Although if I see this Rooslan character, I'll be sure to stab him with my sword."

            A moment over her shoulder caused her to turn quickly. A man standing behind her seemed quite interested in their conversation. He was no where near the size of the oversized stalker, but he was a good head taller than her. He seemed to favor browns instead of blacks, though the fancy clips holding the cape to his shoulder and the shine to the sword peeking out from his hip showed he wasn't any sort of poor peasant. His long thick black hair was swept back in a ponytail and he had a metallic glint to his eyes. "Friend of yours?" she asked her larger ex-antagonist.

            "Yeah, a family friend." He smiled, seeing her grow more perplexed and flustered with every minute. It seemed as long as they kept her off-center, she was actually tolerable to be around. And she was cute. "Sail much lately?" he asked her, trying to swing the discussion back to boats.

            "Not lately, no. I fell off the boat last time I was aboard one, and it was still tied to the dock." She was squirming inside. She wanted to drive this man out of the bar, but somehow it all had gotten turned around. She needed a hasty retreat to regroup, then saw him take a swig from the bottle. "Ah! My drink.. I left it over there!" She slipped under the big man's arm and almost dove into the growing crowd filling the bar.

            Dracon Draghkar watched the girl slip away. "Interesting," he mused.

            "Indeed," his giant cohort replied. "She was trying to hurt me before now, but I don't know what I've done to change that. I hope she didn't go back for a weapon. I'm so unarmed. I'm surprised she didn't use that blade hugging her backside." If Nine had been listening to her metallic protector, she would have found the blade strangely calm and silent throughout the whole exchange.

            "Bah, I don't think she did. If she does.. well, I've got my sword Vanagald." He chuckled, patting his weapon that seemed to glow and chuckle with him. "Besides, I thought Hybrid would have gone back to Megan by now," he shrugged and took a sip out of his own goblet.

            Nine reached the table, picking up her cup and draining the last of the ale, taking the moment to collect herself before turning around to stare at the duo. Was this big guy just trying to fake her out? And who the heck was his buddy? A look around the room told her that if she picked a fight now, she wasn't going to get much immediate support. Zigg had slipped out. Ataru, Sonya, and Fallon had escalated into a very vocal yelling match, the subject being on whom had kicked whose ass the best. Lana had retreated, Obviously to hunt down this Drake person, while Crow way eyeing a very sultry asian woman whom gave him more than an eyeful to see. She stood a minute more, then headed first to the bar to get a refill of ale to settle her nerves. Once restocked, she inhaled, gathered herself, then headed back to the duo, determined to wring at least some useful information out of them. "So.. you both are leaving in the morning then? Sailing for points far and away?"

            The shorter man shook his head. "I'm not sailing anywhere. I've got a kingdom to run."

            Now her eyes rolled from the big guy to the smaller one. "A kingdom. Right. A Captain and a King. You all must think I'm thick or something. Whatever.. I hope you have a nice trip, Big Guy.. and you..." turning to Dracon.." you have fun running your little kingdom. I've got a psychotic telepath to deal with. Gnight."

            "Hey!" the larger man protested. "I gotta name!"

            She spun back on her heel. "Not like you bothered to tell me it before. You just stood there and hulked over me, scaring the beejeebers out of me!"

            "Well, you were always poking me with something!"

            "Well, you were stalking me!"

            Dracon just covered him mouth, hiding his smirking, listening to the duo snip at each other. Just like Megan, he mused. "Marek? Stalk? He's too big to stalk. And way too easily seen."

            "Just let me introduce myself then. My name is Marek Rift. And I'm not your stalker."

            The mutant crossed her arms, looking Marek over. "I'm Nine," she replied as she wasn't sure if he Did know her name or not. "And I guess you're not a stalker... a Wannabe stalker, maybe.. but not a real one.."

The mammoth man smiled. "Nice to meet you."

He stood under the scrutiny as the tiny girl seemed to examine every inch of his hide. "I can't say it's been a nice meeting, per say.. being that... well.. I suppose I Have been a bit.. wired. I guess I sort of kind of owe you some sort of half-assed apology or something."

            "No apology necessary."

            "Good cause I'm not very good at apologies." She switched cups in her hands..

            Then dropped the cup as Marek's friend suddenly convulsed, his body twisting as scales seemed to ripple out from the cape, converting into a set of red membraned wings. He face elongated, then hardened into the snout and frontal horn of a red dragon, the effect rolling down his body. Within a few seconds, the black-haired man had converted into a six foot tall red scaled dragon. The whole effect freaked Nine out as she backpedaled away from him. "What t..the!" she stammered, pressing up against Marek's stomach instead of the wall of the tavern. Apparently she found the dragon currently more the threat. She turned to look up at the big man, seeing him totally unphased by anything Dracon did. "That's.. a dragon?"

            "Yes. So am I." Marek calmly replied.

            The reptile snorted, smirking through his alligator teeth. "You're perceptive. I'd figured one of your lineage would have been able to pick up on that a long time “Go."

            NOW Nine knew what had been nagging the back of her brain. It was true that she carried some of the reptilian DNA from DXB, mainly because it supported the mutated gene that allowed all the splicing and piecemealing material to stick to begin with. Also inherent in that DNA is the innate ability to pick up on other mutants. By a stretch, it would also pick out dragons, the progenitor of the mutant gene. The panicked feeling she kept getting was from detecting scaled kindred. "But... no way... you all are like extinct.... have been for a while now..."

            Both males laughed. "Not by a long shot!" Marek insisted

            "Indeed," Dracon agreed. "It is quite the opposite, I assure you."

            Even though still taken aback, the initial shock was wearing off quickly. Now she was studying the lizard in detail, leaning in closer and closer. Soon she was poking and prodding parts on Drac. "This is hinged wrong.." she mumbled. "And this... not enough bone in the chest area here... You're not Del Marian dragons."

            "Del- what dragons?" Marek asked.

            "Like Lady Megan," Drac replied, trying not to jerk away from the probing. She was tickling him in spots, a probing that quickly halted at the mention of Megan's name. "You know about her and the rest of that looney bin club?"

            The reptile nodded. "I'm sort of like a protector of hers when she's around."

            "You.... protect.. her..." It took a minute for Nine to absorb this concept. "From what I hear, everybody and his distant cousin is out looking for her. Pity she's a throwback."

            Drac never showed any hint if the words hurt him or not. 'Regardless of what she is, I consider her a friend and I protect my friends."

            Nine nodded taking another sip. Apparently Marek has stepped outside for the moment, leaving her to drill the dragon for any insight. "Have you met her mother?"

            The reptile could guess where the conversation was drifting. "From what she told me was that her mother was gone. Dead or otherwise, it's none of my business. Once you showed up, they told me that you are her mother, but that you were from a different time line or something."

            He may have been non-committal, but Nine sense he was leaving a large body of information out. She would have pressed him, except something soft suddenly covered her shoulders and back. She jumped up and spun around, thinking that somebody was trying to throw an net over her, intending for capture. Nothing of the sort, actually. Marek had seen her shivering and did the gentlemanly sort of thing and offered his thick black cloak. Her eyes darted from the big man to the cape and back again. It Was thicker, and she had never been fully warm since buying the metallic battle dress, even with a drape to cover the bare spots. "I... er.. well.. are you sure? I mean you'll need it out on the boat, right?"

            "Doubt it," he grunted. "Besides, I don't mind rain."

            "I... err.. well.. thanks...." She draped it higher on her shoulders, totally covering the sword hanging off her back, much to its chargrin. She found the material very warm and soft, still retaining some of the previous owner's body heat. Everything finally began to relax and she turned to the bar, finding one of the men minding the store. "Refill, please? Whatever's closest. I'm not picky."

            "Not Fussy?!" Marek snorted.

            "Well, not when it comes to drink." She took the refilled mug and had several swallows down when she realized the bartender had filled it with whiskey, not quite what she was expecting. Marek was making preparations to leave once again, readying himself to sail out with the tide. Nine reached over and patted one of his massive forearms. "You take care out there," she insisted, the gesture about as friendly as she got, save for Randall. Perhaps she was sweet on him, she mused sourly. Pity he was human.

            "I have a feeling I won't be gone for long," he grumbled. "The main line keeps sticking.. and beating me up in the process, I might add." He did raise an eyebrow when she patted his arm, not quite sure what the gesture meant. Dracon had prepped him on what these "mutants" were like, but they were so hard to read, and their mood switched almost by the minute. How the Vashtailan lizard had managed to be their friend so long without getting killed escaped him, but perhaps it was all in the handling. Even now this Nine person didn't seem nearly so .. nervous.. around them, having now drank with them and talked with them. She was still guarded, but not nearly in the spooked manner she'd been earlier.

            She was even being helpful. "Try duct tape. It'll fix anything." She gathered her newly acquired cloak around herself before turning to face the smaller kin. "And I guess I won't see you for a while either. I mean you've got a kingdom and all to take care of?"

            "Bah, it's pretty self sufficient. Things are peaceful and quiet nowadays."

            "Peace and quiet? Right.." and with a wave of her hand, she slipped out into the street.

            Nine opened the door to the pirate's tavern slowly, seeing Soya removing a bullet from Fallon's wound and handing it to the woman standing behind her. This new lady Rain carefully etched the stricken hero's name in the chunk of silver in some strange semblance of a joke. Sonya didn't seem as joking. "If you wouldn't have taken that bullet, I wouldn't have been able to bring Crow back to life."

            "If ye had been hit by the bullet.. well.. all I'd be sayin' is Poor Little Ataru."

            Apparently she had missed the gunfight. As it was bullets and broken glass littered the place. Thankful that he had missed the bloodshed, she sat down towards the other end of the bar, just in time to watch Zigg enter the bar. No.. not Zigg... this one must be Zagg. For one he wasn't wearing the plastic trenchcoat, opting for a t-shirt barely contained all the muscles the man sported. His weapon of choice was some sort of bladed staff, a nasty piece of work, that he laid across the table where he sat, definitely not looking approachable.

            She took her perch at the ned of the counter, wrapping Marek's cloak up around herself. She did notice another woman looking her over closely, but chose not to press the subject. The woman just snorted. "She not part of this insane crew," she decided allowed.

            Sonya smiled and rested an hand on the woman's shoulder. "Think again," she snickered, then took up a bar rag and tried mopping the mess from the counters. The man snorted, frowning. The only crew members were the ones that visited him in confession; something that ninety nine percent of the crew seemed to avoid. The others seemed to be in better spirits, playfully kicking at each other, sometimes making more of a mess than cleaning one.                                                                                                                                         Through the post- battle frivolity came Marek, sweating heavily as he pulled up a chair next to ... his kindred, now that she thought about it some. He forwent the shirt this time, but did have a massive blade strapped to his side. It was strange seeing him with a weapon as she'd imagine him more as a hands on type of fighter. "I thought you were sailing on the morning tide?" she quipped.

            Hmm? Oh. I did. I left last night."

            "But you're sitting here, unless you can time travel or something."

            "Nah," he smirked. My ship is now dry docked in Vashtalia. It didn't take me long to get there and back."

            The gay nature of the bar changed as Rain seemed suddenly weakened and fell behind the bar. Her friends in attendance rushed to her side trying their best to revive her. Apparently her efforts in the fight and afterward had taken quite a bit out of the woman. Fallon carried the girl over to the couch where she mumbled in a half-dream state.

            Megan noted the movements in the bar, but since it seemed well in hand, and she wasn't much of a healer, she opted to keep Marek company. "So now what? You gonna hand out around here and try to make me paranoid again?" This was said in a half jest. She wasn't afraid of the man anymore. She was just being wary. She'd been tricked before, deceived even.

            Perhaps the big man could see the doubt and mistrust in the young woman's eyes and tired to make a start of it. "No... but I can be your friend, if you'll take me as one."

            Now she sized him up with and intense scrutiny that would have made anyone apprehensive at best. She canted her head a bit. "How a bout a shipmate?" She gestured to the pirate group trying to calm the half-conscious Rain. "These guys can use someone like you. You've had experience even." She had to snicker a bit, a rare sight on the normally nervous woman. "Even if you can't manage to stay on board a boat. That doesn't seem to be a prerequisite, thankfully."

            Strange that she would offer such a position to him and he smiled. "I'll have to think about it," he smiled. Actually he was slowly pitching forward as he smiled. The man was exhausted. Nine figured he must have just come back to port and hadn't had a wink of sleep all night. Even a he lightly began to snore, she removed the cloak he'd given her and draped it over the big man's shoulders, having to stand up on tip toe to do so. Also in the process, she exposed the slinky skimpy Grecian cut armored dress. It didn't look like armor. Randall had told her the material was Mithril, a sort of magical sliver mined and tendered by elves. It didn't feel magical, but it literally took the edge off of a borrow sword when she tested the cloth. It also took all her money at the time, but it was one of the few investments she thought was worth the price. Pity it wouldn't keep Rooslan at bay. The snoring had stopped and she turned back around, catching the big man staring at her, smiling. "Such a cutie," he winked then yawned and stretched, letting the cape drop from his shoulders.

            Nine was not used to flattery. Actually she'd never been called "cute" or anything endearing that she could remember. The dress she wore may have seemed exotic, but she didn't move like one used to wearing lush materials. She could have been wearing her old flight jumpers and it wouldn't have mattered. What she saw as armor was plainly something else in the big man's eyes, and it made her nervous in a different way. She wasn't stupid. She knew about the birds and the bees, at least the technical aspects; and she could very well guess what was on his mind, but for now she just shoved that uncomfortable and foreign line of thinking way back in the corner of her mind, doing naturally what her ancestors did so well: Repress. Instead she slipped around the counter to make a large pot of coffee, figuring the who bar could use something other than alcohol to consume.

            If anyone assume that because she was a woman that she would have some cooking skill would quickly see she wasn't. She put in almost two cups of grinds into the pot and set it over the fire, eventually making something akin to sludge. It poured very slowly from the pot into the ceramic mug she found in the sink. Once transferred, she pushed to offering in front of Marek. "Here.. this'll wake you up."

            Ataru rushed into the tavern, carrying a very bloodied and beaten Lana, the woman found by that Drake's boat, the "Lady Rhianne" moored at the other end of the wharf. Much like Rain, she was also in a rambling state, wanting to go back to the injured captain, then sobbing as she insisted in her delirium that he would never return for her. It was a heart-rendering sight. Ataru wasn't happy, looking to go '"talk" to Drake turned, allowing a set of wings to rip and expand from his shoulders before rushing out into the night. Sonya set about getting some food into Lana with Fallon's help. Zigg wandered in, then rushed immediately to the woman's side, filled with concern. So was Nine, but already Lana had more than enough friends watching over her, and with the mutant's still unclear standing in the ranks, she didn't want to push in where she would be unwanted and in the way. No, she would keep an eye on the doors and windows, looking for perhaps some sort of retaliation. There had been a fight and Nine already knew that many of the crew did not approve of Drake. She sighed and picked up the fallen cape, shaking out the wood shavings. "This was a nice gift, Marek, except it's a bit long. I feel like I'm toting a cathedral-length train. I'll have to get it hemmed at least two feet!"

            Marek reached out and touched the hem of the cloak. It suddenly zapped, retracting the asked two feet. Nine almost dropped the piece. "Magic!" she hissed, her skin crawling in revulsion.

            "—hm," the big man nodded, the coffee quickly setting his blood coursing through his veins.

            "Gross!" she whined and tossing the cape into the adjacent chair, thoroughly filled with the heebie-jeebies. "You didn't say you all did magic!"

            Rain had recovered from her swoon and quietly watched the activity around the room. "Sonya? Is the crew mad?" she asked in wonderment.

            "We are not mad." The woman insisted, slapping Fallon upside the head when he failed to move quickly enough to attend to Lana's needs. "We just don't stay civil for long."

            Marek kept his composure, somewhat enjoying Nine's confusion. He hadn't figured on this aspect of mutants. Of course Drac Had reminded him that performing any acts of magic around them may not be a good idea. "Don't most dragons?" he asked.

            "I don't! None of My ancestors did!"

            The oversized man slowly stood up and turned to leave, testing to see what she would do. The girl bit her lip, then reached up and grabbed his arm, seeing she'd insulted him. "Whoa, big guy... I'm... I'm sorry.. didn't mean to snap... it's just I get such bad vibes whenever people do that.. especially without warning.."

            "Okay, " he smiled. "I'll warm you next time.”

            Nine sighed, seeing she'd managed once again to avert any misunderstandings. It wasn't easy, trying to avert making any more enemies. She sure didn't need anymore. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Zigg sitting at the head of the makeshift bed sitting in some sort of tantric pose, apparently to tend to Lana's mental needs. She frowned. She hadn't figured on Zigg being a psi, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. Apparently he'd gleaned what information he needed as he suddenly stood up, letting the returning Ataru take up the head position as he tore into the night. Angels caring for Pirates? Dragons toting magic? That one just blew her away. "So.. do you change into a dragon too?"

            "Yes," he nodded, sitting back down for now. "A gold one."

            "Really? For all the black you liked to wear, I would have thought you to be black scaled. You Are scaled, right?"

            "Yes," he nodded again. "My niece is a platinum dragon, but she's nothing like the dragons I know."

            "So you don't have to be born from gold stock to be gold? At least we have one constant."

            "Actually my father's a gold. My niece is adopted."

            As they chatted an older man dressed in white robes and a beige cape made his way over to the duo, chuckling softly. He sported a staff nearly 8 ft and seemingly made of solid gold, a dragon's claw holding a red gem seated in the palm. Marek turned, nodding. "Hello, Claw."

            The man lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. "Since when did we start calling my by name, Young One?"

            "Since I didn't get any sleep last night," Marek retorted.

            Nine looked the newcomer over with a critically sour eye. "You're a dragon too? Damn, they're all coming out of the woodwork."

            That brought a chuckle from both draconic men. "Nine, this is my dad Claw Rift," Marek gestured. "Dad, this is Nine."

            "Well met, Lady Nine. I assure you there are more dragons in this world than you think."

            Again she gave the old man a judging eye. "You will forgive me. Where I'm from we're damn near extinct. I barely carry enough of the blood to qualify."

            Claw seemed to know this as well, somehow. "I think the only member of the Royal court who isn't dragon would be Lady Melissa, but... never mind. She used to be a dragon."

            Their attention turned for the moment back to the injured party. Lana wouldn't settle down; neither for the treatments of wolfsbane nor for bandages. Nine assumed now that Lana had been attacked by a werewolf. It was agree that they would carry her to see Drake, assuming that she would become co-operative once she spoke her mind to the man. Apparently Drake was in the same dire straits and couldn’t be moved from his current sickbed. Nine thought about joining them, but once again a detachment from the initial accident kept her. She didn't know who was in the wrong or right on this battle, and she couldn't very well go pell mell into a melee without some idea. Well, she Could, but it wouldn't be prudent, or wise. No, she would guard their flank and home fires. And she would interrogate this new reptile. "You wouldn't be related to that,, uhm Drac guy.. the kind of that place.. Vash.. Vashtalia, ain't it?"

            "You remembered! No, I'm not related to him, but I am Lord Dracon's advisor and chief mage."

            Nine gave a wry smile. "A dragon mage, and a used-to-be assassin. I don't suppose I can hire you both as assassins... guardians even. I bet Rooslan would thing twice if I had magical dragons guarding my hindside."

            "I'm sorry," the old man smiled. "I don't do assassinations, but a guardian though. That's not a bad idea! Why not? It'll be something different to do with my time."

            "Sounds like something my mother would want me to do," Marek chimed in.

            "Well then, I guess we would have to decide on a fair price. Shall we draw up a contract?" She started rummaging in the pockets of her dress, figuring it was about time she put these strange gold coins to good use.

            "Bah!" the old man gestured. "I'll do it for free!"

            "That's right," Marek agreed. "He'll do it for free."

            Nine deposited a handful of the odd coins on the counter in front of the larger man. "and you, Marek? What is your price?" She wouldn't dither with Claw. If he felt obliged somehow to do it for free, so be it.

            Apparently his son felt the same. "I can't take your money," he insisted.

            But Claw was looking over the coin, picking one up and turning it over several times. "I think I'll take one coin anyhow, just to make things official like. If anything, I'll just add this to my coin collection. Nice to have one from a different dimension."

            Nine scooped the rest of the coins back into the flat pockets of the dress. "Seems insanity runs in your family too. I can't believe you both a passing up a sizeable profit. S'okay by me, as long as you two don't try reneging in the deal when the going gets too hot."

            "Us? run away?"

            "You've not met Rooslan, and I'm guessing he's gonna be a tougher customer when he finally shows up. He's a psi, or going to be a better one. At least that's what the tin can told me."

            "Tin can?" Both drakes seemed a bit confused.

            "You haven't met him? Big guy? Almost as big as you, Mer. Got parts of him made outta metal?"

            "Oh," the older man pouted, snorting in indignation at the girl's assumptions. "You think I will run away? I didn't run away all those decades when Vashtalia was almost blown off the map. I sure don't intend on running away from some fledgling psi assassin. If this Rooslan fella tries to hurt you or anyone else then I'll make sure he doesn't exist anymore."

            Again they paused. Lana had returned, being carried once again by Ataru and once again deposited on the couch. They look beaten, not in a physical way, but definitely their emotions had been rubbed raw. Whatever had happened at Drake's boat had gone badly. Zagg seemed in even a deeper depression than before and the woman's glances told her that things were not right in the world of the pirates "I swear, it's almost contagious," Nine muttered at the scene. "It's like people all around me just.. lose it." She now turned back, having only caught a bit of Claw's speech. "Just as long as you all don't fall off the ledge and take everyone with you." A yawn escaped her as she was beginning to see the congealing of a plan to deal with her insane commander and she stood up wrapping the cape back around her now that the magical sensation had worn off.

            Marek stood up as well. "So when do we start?"

            "Now as far as I'm concerned. I've got a little place out there where I hole up at night. I don't expect you to stand right in front of the doorway or anything. In fact, you can see it from the doorway if you squint. Now, if you'll excuse me." She turned and slipped out the door, figuring they would follow, but she saw they were quietly discussing something. Very well. Let's see how good these cold- blooded reptiles were. She darted into the evening crowd, easily slipping around several large groups of party goers. She could cover quite a bit a ground for a short chick and quickly made her way down the wharf before making a few hairpin turns and diving into a blind alleyway. The two gentlemen standing halfway down the congress approached, but stopped when they saw who it was. They skirted around her and ran out of the alleyway, leaving the mutant smiling. the had been three of them, but after she viciously attacked the first one, breaking both legs and puncturing a kidney, these young men had thought it safe to leave her and hers alone. Now she approached "home", a slatted wooden box with a corrugated tin "roof". Sure she could have stayed at a motel, or even at the tavern, but she didn't want to endanger anyone. Oh she was sure that Zigg and Weston and Crow could hold their own against any other vamp, werewolf, ghost, or angel; but once Rooslan got all hyped up on that mutant juice, there would be few forces able to stop him. This way the echo that traveled down the brick walls would carry his vibe to her before he could sense her and give her a chance to escape. So it was cramped and wet. Now that she had Marek's cape, she wasn't nearly as cold. The Mithril dress didn't need any tending to, not even ironing or pressing, just a rinse in the river and it was as good as new, and she Had been Military trained too. Roughing it wasn't unknown to her. Besides, didn't her reptilian ancestors sleep in caves? Hers was just a tad bit smaller and draftier.

            As she curled up to sleep on the chewed blankets that served as the floor of her "home", Claw shifted into his golden dragon form, the overall size barely four feet in length, before climbing up into the tree in the park opposite the alleyway.

            Just like Megan, he chuckled to himself before coiling up to doze as well.