Alphonse was willing to give anything and everything to achieve his family's ultimate goal. He had already sacrificed his only child to the cause. Alphonse had killed him with his own hands, but that didn't hurt him the way it should have. He was disappointed in having to shoot his son, but he'd never mourn him. Soon the government would release the body and Alphonse would have to go through the charade of an elaborate funeral and burial. He wasn't looking forward to that.

That was the truth behind the look on the old man's face when two neighbors came into the house sheepishly. "We're so sorry about what happened to Martin", the women said and Alphonse turned to give them a tired smile.

"He got himself mixed up in some horrible business", Alphonse said, giving no hints that Martin was only trying to live up to his father's expectations.

"We knew he liked his parties, but what young men don't like parties?", the older of the two neighbors said. "We didn't want to bother, but just to say that if you need anything at all, we're here for you."

Alphonse took both women's hands and gave them a little squeeze of reassurance. "That's so kind. I'll get through it all, and trust me this helps." The two women looked at each other knowing that they'd done the right thing after hesitating to bother him. They left after a few more minutes. Alphonse was once again alone in the house.

People had the ability to be so selfless to each other, and also so exceedingly cruel. It was odd that sometimes those two traits existed inside the same person. Alphonse looked at his Rolex. He had to leave if he planned to make the meeting on time, and Alphonse was never late.

Unlike his son, Alphonse preferred to ride under the radar. It was the reason that he'd been able to do so much dirt and still come out smelling better than a rose. He slipped into his comfortable 21 year old Jaguar and drove to a small airport twenty miles away. He parked inside the hangar and walked out to the waiting Cessna. He slipped a generous tip to the mechanic who'd overhauled the plane before climbing into the pilot's seat. Alphonse contacted the tower while rolling down the taxiway, after a few brief words with the controller he took off.

Flying continued to be a thrill even after all these years. Like most American men of his age, Alphonse had at one point served in the military. He was lucky in this aspect of life as well. He was a high school senior when the Korean War ended and by the time Vietnam rolled around, Alphonse was long out of the Air Force, working as a Federal Prosecutor in Pittsburgh. He liked that town a lot. Some of his biggest triumphs and a few of his biggest headaches had happened there. He'd gone through them all though. As he flew north, Alphonse wondered if perhaps he should have raised his son there in that city, where hard work wasn't something that somebody else was supposed to do.

The plane was still humming along as it slipped from Florida into Georgia. He wasn't yet halfway to his unlikely destination. Alphonse checked his autopilot and then his watch. He didn't have the stamina that he used to have as a younger man and allowed himself to doze into sleep. It was too bad Alphonse didn't have access to that girl Morgen used to travel all around the world. Alphonse probably could have found out her name, but one look at that girl told him that she could be trouble if you were on her bad side. As Alphonse fell deeper into sleep he wondered if Morgen was going to use her to travel to their meeting.

Morgen Stern was in the company of another beautiful young Black woman. He rolled X-417 onto her back, glancing downward at the thick nipples poking up at him, and couldn't resist. He took one of the tootsie roll sized nipples in his mouth and worked it with his tongue and lips. The Femme arched her back and raised her ample ass off the bed even with all of Morgen's weight on her stomach. Morgen's excitement grew. He took two handfuls of breasts and smothered his face while X-417's muscled body writhed beneath him. He reached one arm down and thrust it between her legs. The Femme moaned. Her eyes slowly closed. Morgen sat up a bit to see her body in all of its fascinating glory.

Pin-pricks of sweat caused the light to glisten off of her pure ebony skin and show her flexing muscles in stark shadows. Morgen took her right arm and stretched it out before him and began to trace the contours of her beautiful muscles with his tongue. He missed none of the throbbing ridges and waiting valleys of her arm, making sure to wet and worship each corded muscle of her forearm before venturing to her iron hard biceps or triceps.

X-417's abs flexed like ranks of marching soldiers as she raised first her legs higher and higher until her thighs sat on Morgen's shoulders on each side of his head. Those muscles were strong enough to crush Morgen's head flat, strong enough to crush a car to pieces... strong enough to fight one of Alphonse's monsters for him. Morgen turned his handsome face and kissed the inside of her thighs, working his way to her already wet sex. He didn't hesitate when he reached it.

X-417 grabbed his hand and held it to her abs and chest as her body twisted while his tongue and lips worked her. She closed her legs around him, letting him get just a taste of the hardness of her muscles. Morgen pulled his head away and let the Femme fall to the bed. He entered her and her body tensed. Morgen was impressed with the muscle show if not with her display of passion. He thrust into her for a time before spinning to lay on his back with X-417 still atop him. He spun her round so he could see her beautiful ass while she fucked him. It remained almost perfectly shaped even when she sat on his thighs for the instant when his dick was fully inside him.

He ran his hands along her back, watching the landscape of her muscles changed one beautiful shape to another as she whisked her body up and slammed it down. Her muscles were so dense and hard that even without trying she was going to make his legs and lap sore, but Morgen didn't give a damn. She spun to face Morgen, the sight of her beautiful ass and hourglass back were replaced with her rock hard abs, bouncing breasts, and spiked nipples. Morgen took X-417 by the back of her head and pulled her lips to his. They kissed as he spent his load. Her eyelids fluttered a little and Morgen gave in to the pleasure, looking into her eyes was like looking twin inkwells. They deep and inviting, but Morgen wouldn't explode that, not yet.

'Flex for me', he ordered her with his power without ever having to speak a word. X-417 slowly raised her arms, while her hips still ground and fucked Morgen. She stared directly at him as she curled her arms and squeezed her fists tightly. Muscle erupted atop her arms. Morgen ran his hands over her biceps. She lowered her arms and squeezed into a most muscular pose that showed her body anew. The sight of those deeply etched muscles was all Morgen could take. He collapsed against her warm chest completely spent.

With his ear against her body he heard the deep rumble of her beating heart and realized with considerable pride that he actually gotten her heart rate up. Femme's were programmed to please their sexual partners and every orgasm was manufactured by that programming, but the body still regulated the Femme's heart. That was real enough.

After a few minutes to let his own heart slow Morgen rolled over to his back. X-417 was looking at him. Morgen didn't look at her for very long though. He went to staring up at the ceiling, thinking. He wasn't in love with this Femme the way that Benny was with X-424. No, not even close. He was smitten, that was sure, but Morgen felt sorry for this young woman. She'd had her life snatched away even if her body functioned better than it ever had when it had been hers to command. She'd probably been on drugs or in a gang or she might have walked the streets as a hooker. In any case, she had deserved better than being turned into a mindless super soldier. Morgen had avoided it, but he rolled over to his right side to face X-417. She faced him, her programming ready to accommodate his every want or need, but when Morgen put his hand gently against her cheek, he really reached out with his gift. It slipped right past the programming.

Morgen had the ability to force any person to do what he wanted. He took control of a person's will and very quickly it became his to toy with. The process of making a human brain ready for the programming made it child's play for Morgen to control any of the super soldiers including the Femmes. All people had some resistance to Morgen's gifts, but X-417 had none. All of that had been taken away. He felt a moment of deep sadness for her. He sent his power to depths of X-417 searching for just a trace of who she'd been before, and found nothing at all, not even echoes. Mallster's scientists had been quite good at their business.

Morgen rose from the bed and started towards the bathroom. X-417 sat up and the covers slid down her body a little, exposing one breast. "Want me to go with you?", she asked with a naughty grin, but Morgen shook his head. If she followed him in, he'd want to fuck her again, and they were leaving soon. Morgen was in no hurry to go though. In truth he hadn't felt this level of peace in years, but obligations were more powerful than wants, at least to Morgen Stern. He dreaded his meeting with Alphonse, especially since the man had killed his own son in cold blood. In a weird way it had been Alphonse's actions that had allowed Morgen this brief respite from his usual worries. That murder was the last shove Morgen needed to fall back into the loving arms of the family he'd mostly shunned for years.

The bathroom that Morgen entered was the very same one he'd used a boy growing up. One of many in his family's stately home in Leipzig. The Stern's weren't old nobility or anything of the sort. They'd been merchants for more than 300 years, losing great fortunes only to make them back, so they could once again be lost. The family was currently on an uptick, and had been since the early 1970's when Morgen's father Heinz had become head of the family and a very powerful man in the hierarchy of East Germany.

Morgen and his father were both quite stubborn. For many years, neither had been willing to take the first step to thaw out their frosty relationship until Morgen had made that call to his father from the seat of his car. When Morgen had come here to Leipzig and laid eyes on his father, all the animosity felt so juvenile and foolish. The father and son had embraced for longer than either man had expected. No words were spoken, mostly because none were necessary. Morgen loved his father and Heinz loved his son. That was enough.

Of course Morgen hadn't come alone. To his family, X-417 was known as Adanya, and she was from Lagos, Nigeria. It helped that she could fake the accent very well because she couldn't actually speak Yoruba, Hausa, or any of the other indigenous West African languages. Those brilliant scientists had dropped the ball on that front. It was convenient that X-417 spoke German like she'd grown up next door to the Sterns. Morgen and X-417 walked down the stairs together and found the family assembled for breakfast around the smaller table in the solarium in the back of the house near the garden.

"Did you sleep well, Adanya?", Morgen's sister Lena asked. She too had let go of a lot of animosity. For years Lena had blamed both her father and her brother for the death of her beloved mother. Her mother had been like a bright like in a darkened room and her loss had hurt Lena in ways she couldn't describe. She'd reconciled with her father after some years though. Forgiveness for Morgen had come slower. It seemed to her that Morgen hadn't been seeking it, but to her great surprise, in the hospital after the birth of her child, Morgen had walked in with a balloon, a big bouquet of flowers, and an even bigger smile. It seemed that Morgen liked the idea of being an uncle. She and Morgen weren't extremely close even now, but there were no bad feelings anymore. Lena even worried about her jet setting older brother every now and then.

"Very well", the Femme replied in her perfect German. "This house is absolutely beautiful", she gushed with a big smile revealing two rows of pearly white teeth.

"You are kind to say so", Heinz spoke up for the first time. He was just as strict and stoic as Morgen remembered him, but for the first time in his life Morgen found those traits oddly comforting. "After the war, the Soviets used this house as a barracks and after that a military covalence home. I didn't step foot in here for nearly 20 years, and when I did I thought the wrecking ball was the only remedy for the state of it. My wife thought otherwise however. Brigette could have looked at a lump of coal and seen a diamond inside it. I suppose that is why she agreed to marry me", he said with the makings of a smile.

Self deprecation was not his father's usual MO, but maybe an old dog could learn a new trick or two, or maybe it was that Morgen hadn't really known his father very well.

X-417 laughed and patted Heinz's hand. He put his other hand on top of hers and held it there for a moment. "You are good for Morgen. He needs a strong woman like you to keep him in line and perhaps even one day make him a respectable man", he added with another grin.

"Not likely", Morgen replied and stood up from the table. The household staff was already bringing down the luggage. They hadn't brought much to Germany with them, but a woman with a credit card in a shopping district is a dangerous thing, even a Femme.

"Are you sure you have to go away so soon?", Lukas, Morgen's young nephew asked with a whine

Morgen leaned down and kissed the young man on his forehead. "I do have to leave, but I promise I'll be back very soon. Morgen could tell that both his father and sister hoped he was telling the truth. In his heart he was, but life often conspired against plans.

Morgen and X-417 traveled first class from Germany to New York. It would have been quicker and more efficient to travel to Baltimore or Washington, but Morgen had someone to meet first, someone he trusted.

The butler opened the door to the Broker's spacious Upper East Side home. Morgen showed himself into the office. Morgen walked past all the paintings and the statues that the Broker loved so much, including one he'd just gotten the day before. Dimitri could sometimes be dramatic, but in this case it was Morgen doing the cloak and dagger routine. He couldn't let DeBraya know that he was in New York when he wasn't supposed to be.

Morgen sat down in a chair across from the Broker's desk and opened a briefcase. Neither man spoke a word in greeting and the Broker didn't ask what Morgen was up to because he figured that he'd know soon enough. Morgen pulled out a thick stack of pages and set them down on the desk with a boom.

Morgen motioned to the stack before he said, "That is the beginnings of a novel… a poorly written novel, but the subject matter is quite interesting. It was written by the recently departed Martin DeBraya. It seems that his family has been looking for something called the Great Recipe and according to this it does…"

"I know what it does", the Broker finally said in his strange accent. He pushed the stack of pages to the side and looked directly at Morgen. "I'm not an expert on it, but I've known of the formula's existence for some time."

"And you were going to tell me when?"

"When you did something like this, allowed me to trust that you and I are still working together and not against each other. I know you have wants and needs of your own. Sometimes your destination and mine are not in the same direction."

Morgen sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. "We have our differences, Dimitri, but not on something like this. I have to admit that at first I thought about using this knowledge as leverage for something or other, but it's above some petty power play."

"Yes. It is above either your business or mine. Also we can't let a man like DeBraya succeed. You already know how ruthless he is. I mean he's the reason…"

Morgen held up his hand for the Broker to stop. He didn't need him to explain what a retched man Alphonse was. When he closed his eyes Morgen could still see Martin's face after he'd been shot.

"Alphonse won't rest until he has the power in his hands, and there's no simply killing him. He has allies in places that I wouldn't even have expected. High up in the US government, so I'm sure he has assets in others places, other governments as well. Hell, I'm not even sure if he's the one ultimately in charge, or just a major cog in a huge slow turning wheel."

The Broker sat forward and put his hands on the desk. "We have allies of our own. We aren't helpless even against a man with the influence and reach of DeBraya. We would have to play our limited hand very well however."

Morgen shrugged. "We could implicate him in the crimes of his son. That might weaken him."

The Broker shook his head. "No, he'd have thought of that already and I bet he is so distanced from his son's crimes that no one could connect the dots. Well you could, but then you would be exposed as working against him."

Morgen knew that his friend was correct. Morgen had a ring of loosely associated people who did his dirty work and transported in information, which was Morgen's main business, but his organization wasn't nearly strong enough to withstand or repel an attack from a man who had the Regional Director of National Security in his pocket. The Broker was thinking similar things until Morgen finally spoke, "I'll have to play along with him. There's no other way. You're going to have to work hard at your end so we can stop him, but he can't suspect me."

"This is dangerous", the Broker told his old friend. They'd known each other for more than two decades, since they were both idealistic young men. Each of them had risen to the top of shadowy empires that would be destroyed in an instant if Alphonse succeeded in recreating the Great Recipe."

"Life is dangerous", Morgen replied. He stood up from the chair. "I should be okay for now. He needs me, but if a man like him will kill his own son…"

"You needn't say more", the Broker said and stood up to shake Morgen's hand. "This is like the good old days. Trying to save the world from the forces of darkness."

Morgen laughed. "No this is much worse than that. Give me the Stasi or the KGB any day."

After Morgen left the Broker was back behind his desk. His face betrayed the heavy thoughts running through his brain. His staff knew better than to talk to him when he was in moods like this. After a while he picked up his phone and dialed a Chicago number.

Dr. Zachariah Waarmer answered his personal line after the second ring. "Hello", the old man said.

"It's starting", the Broker said with a sign.

The old man nodded. "I understand", his voice sounded much older than it had only seconds earlier. The Broker spent a few minutes explaining what he'd just heard from Morgen. "We'll have to do the meeting soon", Waarmer said. "Those kids deserve to know what they are up against."

"I'm not even sure if I know what we are up against", the Broker replied. "I know you said that I am instrumental in our success, but you haven't told me how."

"Now that, my friend I don't even know. We have to tread carefully. Your friend Morgen is going to settle in with DeBraya and his people before we start making waves. I'll talk to Hayfa and see if she's ready to bring you up to speed. Until then, we wait."

"Just so we don't wait too long."

Warrmer didn't have to update Hayfa Redwine on the new developments. She already knew, because she'd been listening to his conversation. The news that events were moving forward was troubling, but not unexpected.  It was nice to get a name for the opposition though. Alphonse DeBraya was well on his way to discovering the Recipe. He’d be hard to stop if he ever did get his hands on the power that the Recipe represented. He had killed his own son to get a single step closer to his goal, but that had always been the way of the world.

Hayfa let out a long breath and allowed her consciousness to once again inhabit the same space as her body. Hayfa’s head swam and she was forced to grab hold of the nearby table. What she'd done hadn't been easy even for someone with Hayfa's considerable power and skill. She was trying some of the old techniques that her ancestors had used in  ages past.  They'd been  able to do what she'd done  while reading or  writing a letter. The power those people had possessed staggered her mind.

She went to her cousin's sink basin and splashed some water on her face before looking in the mirror. In her youth Hayfa had been one half of the most beautiful duo in their South Chicago neighborhood. She would be 60 years old on her next birthday, and even in her most critical moments she knew that she didn't look her age at all. Her skin was healthy and ageless, a trait she’d passed on to her children. Hayfa had gained a few pounds since her heyday, but that's what having five children while being married to a world famous chef would do to a girl. She smiled despite the enormous burden on her relatively narrow shoulders.

As a girl Hayfa and her twin sister Hamida had made up fanciful stories about how they would defeat the forces of evil and save the world because it was their destiny, but Hamida was dead. No amount of knowledge or power would bring her back. Sometimes Hayfa cried at the memory of her sister and other times she cried because she had to coordinate these battles alone.

Hayfa turned when there was a knock on the door. It opened halfway and Hayfa’s youngest child stuck her head in.  “Mom, I’m heading out”, Cassidy said in Tunisian Arabic as easily as she could have in English.

Hayfa looked at her daughter for a long moment before walking over and giving Cassie a big hug.  “Where are you off to?  Back to El Hani?”

“Not yet”, Cassie replied. “I’m going to the gym. I haven’t had a proper workout in days, and I’m going crazy.”

Hayfa laughed and kissed Cassie on her cheeks. "I'll see you later sweetheart." Cassie had already bounced halfway down the steps by the time Hayfa let out a long sigh. Her daughter was so unburdened with the world around her that Hayfa felt both envious and sympathetic. Cassie was smart enough to know bad existed even if it rarely existed near her, but she didn't let any of that put a damper on her joy. The truth though was much worse than Cassie would have imagined, and Hayfa dreaded having to tell her.

Less than an hour later, Cassie narrowed her hazel eyes and let out a hissing breath. Sweat rolled down from the peaks of her rising, thickening biceps as she curled the bar again. Every muscle in her upper body looked ready to jump through her perfect bronze skin. Her arteries throbbed in time with her thumping heart, adding layers to the surface of her completely shredded biceps. Cassie's hiss stopped at the top of the rep. She squeezed and flexed her biceps really hard before finally racking the bar. Cassie jumped back a step and spun to look at the full length mirror to her right. She raised both her arms, extended her right leg and struck a well practiced double biceps pose. Hard, lovingly sculpted muscles blasted out at all angles.

Cassie’s abs were free of the slightest bit of excess. Six almost symmetrically square blocks of muscles were carved on her midsection. Her obliques and serrus muscles looked like the gears of some anatomical machine as she swayed her hips left and then right all while her quads, hams, and glutes flexed tight like drumheads. She raised her cross trainer off the floor and pointed her toes to allow her calf to transform. Her lower leg flared to balance and accentuate the muscled curves of her quads. Suddenly she relaxed and turned profile. She raised her right arm and admired the rear rise of her bicep as she pumped her flexed harder and higher.

The people in the cosmopolitan tourist city of Sousse were more accustomed to women in the gym than guys in others North African cities might have been, but they’d never seen a woman quite like this one. Some men openly stared while others tried to hide their admiration of this young woman’s body. Some had deep reservations about her showing her body like this, but they kept their objections to themselves.

“Who is she?”, one of the regulars asked the gym manager as they stood at the counter watching Cassie transition to side chest pose. She wrinkled her nose as she noted that her delts weren’t keeping up with her biceps. She’d have to work on that.

“I wish I knew. She came in, paid the one day fee and started working out”, the manager answered without taking his eyes off of Cassie who was completely aware of the stares. She continued her workout though as if she were the only person in the gym. After she’d worked her muscles into tired submission she went to take a shower. In an effort to keep the sexes as separate as possible, the women’s bathing and changing area was almost in another building entirely. The gym was only connected by a long narrow hallway. Cassie was the only woman in the entire area and she welcomed the solitude almost as much as she welcomed the soreness of a good workout. She dried off and dressed, actually chuckling  at the irony that at this time of year back in Chicago she'd  have been forced to cover her hear, but here in Tunisia she just let her still wet hair lay across her shoulders.

The breeze off of the beautiful Gulf of Hammamet felt as good as the waters looked, but as Cassie walked down the street, the image of her mother’s worried face entered her mind and wouldn’t leave. Cassie had planned to go to her relative's olive grove near Sidi El-Hani, but now Cassie wasn’t so sure that everything on this ‘vacation’ was about fun. Instead she walked into her favorite café to have some tea. "It's good to see you again, Amina", the owner greeted Cassie. She went by her middle name in Arab speaking countries for a variety of reasons. Cassie didn't say much to the owner beyond returning his greeting and ordering a local verity of tea. She found a seat at an outdoor table with a view of the bay. This was the perfect place to think.

Morgen Stern had been to Kentucky several times, but each earlier trip had taken him to the Derby in Louisville. His destination this time was farther south and east in the Appalachians. That made him think of Caeda who'd spent some of her formative years in these same mountains, on the other side of the state line in West Virginia though. This town had a main street and one or two side streets, but nothing else of note. Morgen had learned through experience though not to count short the little diners in these small towns. Their comfort food could be quite tasty, but Morgen wasn't hungry in the least. He was anxious. He had to meet Alphonse, a man much more formidable and resourceful than Morgen had first expected. The door to the squat two story building was unlocked and Alphonse was just settling into a chair when Morgen walked in.

"Ah, a man who appreciates punctuality. I always knew that we could do go business together Mr. Stern. Have a seat." Morgen closed and locked the door before sitting next to Alphonse. The retired judge poured his guest a tumbler of bourbon. When in Kentucky there was no reason to drink anything else.

"My associates are quite pleased with the report I gave them on your service to me. They're eager to see your role with us expand."

Morgen took a sip of the premium spirit in his glass and appreciated the smooth bite of it. "You wanted me to kill your son, and you had to do that yourself. I fail to see how I did so well at my assigned task."

Alphonse frowned and for the first time Morgen caught him short. "Are you serious, Mr. Stern? You convinced my son that you were on his side. He never once thought that you were working for me. That takes some chuzpah. You were so convincing that I worried you might have taken his side over mine. In the end I was a fool, and nearly paid for it with my life."

Morgen kept the lie from his face. He had felt sorry for Martin. The man was in a no win situation, but looking back on it, as shocking and off putting as his murder had been, it had been inevitable. Morgen could have delayed it. He couldn't have stopped it.

"Plus, you managed to throw both the government and those worrisome Caufield girls off my trail, so I won't have to constantly look over my shoulder wondering if they might connect me with the actions of my son. I am in the clear largely because of you."

Morgen took the compliments in stride. He was used to getting them, even if these still seemed somewhat undeserved. "So when might I meet these associates of yours?"

Alphonse smiled. "That takes time. Maybe less for you than it did for me in the beginning."

"So you aren't the leader?", Morgen pried.

"I am a leader. We are an assembly of equals. The structure of our organization is quite simple. It is built on a very ancient model that has worked so why change it. You remember what I told you on the car ride?"

"About living for hundreds of years and getting great world changing power? Yes, I remember it", Morgen said with just enough skepticism in his voice to get Alphonse to divulge a little more information than he wanted to. Morgen didn't like using his powers to get information. He'd learned other skills for that. Once he used his power on someone it left a trace that a skilled telepath could detect even weeks after it had happened. He was pretty sure that Alphonse had access to people could have detected Morgen's gift. But just like before during that car ride, Morgen just had to sit back and listen while Alphonse spoke.

"Two hundred years ago, an ancestor of mine marched with Napoleon to from Paris to Moscow and back. While he was standing in the charred mess of Red Square he spotted a piece of vellum stuck in the snow. He didn't know what it said, but the calligraphy was quite nice so he tucked it into his jacket.

"He'd found the last piece of evidence that pointed to the existence of the Great Recipe. He didn't know quite what he had at the time, but over the course of his life he figured it out. The little scrap was a chemical compound that is rarely used today, but that's not the secret of the vellum, Morgen. Now see this is the real secret. No one man ever comes up with the entire Recipe. A piece here and a piece there, that's how it comes together. Then once all the pieces are out on the table the race begins. When Moira Kelly ordered that antiquated synthetic enzyme, I knew the race had begun. You see, I'm not the only person looking for the Great Recipe. I'm just the one with the most to lose if someone else puts the puzzle together first." Alphonse was about to say something else, but smiled it off then took another sip of whiskey. "You think this is an old man's foolish chase for immortality, don't you?"

"Not all at. Seems to me that it's a chase for your birthright, Your Honor." Alphonse almost got a tear. Why in the world had this man not been his son?

"I'm going to help you realize your dream, Mr. DeBraya", Morgen continued. "I cannot say that there won't be problems and setbacks, but since you have such faith in me, I will do my best to live up to your expectations." Morgen cleared his throat and set his bourbon down. "On to another matter. So tell me more about this scientist, Moira Kelly."

"Ah yes", Alphonse exclaimed. "She is the first researcher to get so far with the Great Recipe. Martin sent Spencer to attempt to recruit her or to get her information to give to our researchers. I cared for Spencer but sending that man to coerce a woman is like sending a hunting dog to retrieve a pet hamster."

"Do you have a sense of whether this Moira Kelly would join in a group effort to discover the Recipe?", Morgen asked.

"I doubt she knows the magnitude of what she's working on, but that would have to your call Heir Stern. There was a time in my life when I appreciated subtlety and patience, but those traits have bled out of me over time. You have them however. Meet with this Moira Kelly and get to know her. Then you make your call."

Morgen nodded and the Alphonse's face twisted into a frown. "Be careful though Morgen. Somebody is watching out for this woman. Spencer was reckless, but he was skilled. Martin thought that Spencer had killed himself to keep from spilling the family's secrets. I don't think so. I think somebody killed him, and that somebody might be watching Moira Kelly for her sake or he might be watching out for his investment because he wants to get his hands on her research. Either way this man has some reach to get to Spencer."

Morgen eyed Alphonse intently now because the old man was talking about him. Morgen was one watching out for Moira. He'd been the one who'd asked her to look into the formulas that Benny's people had found. It was Morgen's fault that Moira had ordered that chemical from DeBraya's company, and it was his fault that she'd gotten roughed up pretty badly. She'd been tortured and almost killed. Alphonse could never know that it had been Morgen who'd used his powers to force Spencer cut his own throat with a scalpel. Morgen knew that he'd become a hunted man if that information ever got out. The only person alive who knew what had happened was Morgen, but sometimes a man's thoughts aren't just his own. Morgen would have to protect his mind from prying eyes. He made a mental note to take care of that sooner rather than later. "I'm always careful", Morgen said and took one more sip of whiskey. "Whoever is looking out for the Moira Kelly won't be a problem for me."

Alphonse finished the last of his bourbon and stood up. "If I had your confidence Mr. Stern I'd have already found the Great Recipe and would have taken over the world."

Morgen smiled and threw back his whiskey. The two men shook hands and parted ways. Morgen got into his rented Ford and Alphonse climbed into a Jaguar that was quite similar to the one he drove in Florida. Morgen turned north towards Louisville and the airport while Alphonse went east, deeper into the hollows and ridges of the mountains. There wasn't much traffic on the two lane county road. One old pickup truck was behind him, trailing so far that Alphonse never even noticed it.

X-417 drove the truck, staying so far back that only her scientifically enhanced eyes could have seen him. Femmes didn't have expectations so she didn't wonder where Alphonse was going or how long it would take to get there. She did glance at the fuel gauge though. She had a full tank at the start of the trip, but if Alphonse's car had a longer range than the gas guzzling v-8 truck.

The drive wasn't long though. He pulled down a gravel drive that had no side roads or back trails. X-417 didn't turn after the retired judge though. She kept right on going for another minute before turning around to make sure that Alphonse hadn't turned around. When she was sure that Alphonse was indeed somewhere down that dirt road she called Morgen.

"Good job", he told her, knowing that he would check that location out later. "Meet me at the place, I'll pick you up", he told the Femme then ended the call.

Alphonse drove his Jaguar into the entrance to an old mining tunnel that had long ago been converted to other uses. A hundred yards into the tunnel twin sliding doors opened up and bright, clinically white light shined out into the tunnel, but the tunnel was once again black after Alphonse drove in and the doors shut.

"You were tailed", a man a few years younger than Alphonse said after the car had been turned off and the door opened.

"I suspected as much. Green Dodge?"

The man shook his head slowly. "Blue Chevy pickup. Morgen just bought it this morning."

"To follow me I guess. Well he gets an A for effort."

The man's frown deepened. "But now he knows where this place is."

Alphonse smiled. "He would have known soon anyway. Besides, how do we expect Mr. Stern to be successful if we keep expecting him to only do what we say? Men like him are curious."

"Too curious. It's going to get him killed one day", the second man said as he fell in behind Alphonse who was heading to a communications room.

"Yes, but not before he's done what we want him to do."

It was too bad that Alphonse's companion didn't share the same cavalier attitude towards Morgen's snooping. Morgen would have to be sent a message so he knew exactly who he was working for.

X-417 drove the pickup to a motel just off of Route 23 but didn't get out. She sat in the truck with the windows up and the engine off for more than ten minutes before the manager noticed. She might be a hooker waiting on a john. From the looks of the truck she had to from somewhere nearby. He guessed that she would be no trouble so he went back to watching Jeopardy. He hardly ever got one answer right, but it was fun to watch anyway.

A white SUV drove down the same road and stopped on the shoulder. They were in a gentle bend so it was much easier for them to see the truck than it was for anybody in the truck to see them. "We're supposed to send a message. The uglier the better", the squad leader said to his three underlings. "We don't know what skills she might have, but surprise is always surprise. We shouldn't have fear or remorse. Mr. White wants to make sure our message is received loud and clear. Understand?"

The men in the back of the SUV nodded and pulled hoods over their heads before getting out. It was go time.

The SUV sped towards the motel and skidded to a stop near the waiting truck. Three men jumped out of the back doors armed with sub-machine guns. They aimed at the cab and emptied every bullet. The noise was deafening. Tongues of fire shot out of the barrels. Busted glass, pieces of old blue paint, and bits of steel turned powder flew all over the place, but still the men fired. All three men ran out of bullets at about the same time and one of them approached the bullet riddled truck, not because they wanted to see what was left of the person inside, but to confirm that they'd done their jobs. The handle was so shot up that it didn't even work so the guy just peaked through the window. He saw only a shot up seat.

The look of surprise had just come to his face when the truck started to rise like it was being lifted by a crane. The tires sagged as the suspension lost its burden. The truck was being lifted by something much stronger than mere steel. X-417's muscles contracted and bunched, but they were barely burdened by the old pickup. Her shoulders pulsed the solidified into craggy hardness like fresh lava. Muscles rippled along her back from her shoulders to her waist, but her face was expressionless as the truck rose higher still.

The men aimed their guns at her exposed body beneath the truck, but didn't get a chance to pull the triggers. With a mighty toss, X-417 sent the truck towards them. It spun once in the air and was on its side when it crashed down on the three closest men. X-417 expected the men to be squashed flat, but the truck stopped in mid-air. Six arms and six struggling legs absorbed the weight and got balance enough to throw it back. X-417 was in for more than her programming had figured. She spun to her right towards the motel just as the three men managed to dump the truck off of them. She gripped the steel overhang support and gave a concrete dust creating tug. Her biceps flexed harder than battleship steel as the pole tore loose from the roof and the ground at the same time. She took a mighty swing and the man nearest her hadn't quite his gun trained when the pole caught him in the side of the head. The sound echoed off the distant mountains and blood sprayed from both his nose and his mouth. A dent the size of the man's skull warped the pole, but X-417 wasn't finished with it yet.

She charged. Another man tried to dodge, but she took him in the chest and lifted him off the ground as she plowed forward like a bulldozer. She stopped suddenly and the man flew through the air before landing on the hood of the SUV so hard that it caused the front of the big vehicle to bounce off the ground. The man broke the motor mounts of the engine beneath. He bounced off the hood and flew through the windshield, finally coming to rest in the laps of the driver and the team leader. Both men were showered with glass and blood. The last of the three shooters had his gun set on the Femme though and pulled the trigger.

X-417 was quick, but not that quick. A bullet struck her wrist and another hit her chest. Neither wound slowed the Femme in the slightest. The shooter wisely retreated.

Inside the SUV the leader ordered his man to stomp on the accelerator. Even damaged the GMC surged forward, kicking up dust as it gained speed. X-417 stood exposed as the big grill barreled towards her. The leader and the driver both thought that they had her. At the last second X-417 jumped straight up. Her lean powerful calves flexed diamond hard, launching her like a rocket. The soles of her shoes cleared the roof by full inches even in that short a time. Up in the air, she turned to look back at the SUV as it crashed into the motel, knocking bricks and furniture all over the place.

The other attacker took aim at the Femme as she fell back to earth and squeezed off another few rounds. One took X-417 in the cheek and another hit directly in the center of her stomach. Rich red blood leaked from all her various wounds, but didn't affect her. When she landed, she ran behind the overturned pickup truck. The man chased her, but shouldn't have. She doubled back faster than the man could react and caught him by the throat with her left hand while her right hand gripped his weapon's barrel. He tried with all his might to raise that gun, even reaching across his body to use both of his hands. Her triceps were harder and stronger than both of his arms though and gun remained pointed at the ground. He pulled the trigger anyway, spraying his bullets into the asphalt. He gagged when her fingers closed around his neck. Muscles boiled along the length of X-417's arm. Thick clumps of writhing muscle gathered under her deep ebony skin. This man's enhancements were just good enough to keep X-417 from crushing his neck flat like an empty beer can. He did begin to lose consciousness though. She would have held on long enough choke him to death, but the indestructible engine of that SUV cranked back to life.

X-417 turned towards the building, the most solid thing nearby, excluding her body itself, and threw the man in her arms like a centerfielder throwing to home plate. The man's body impacted the front of the motel harder than the SUV had. Broken bits of brick, mortar, bone and wood filled the air like a bomb had detonated. X-417 ran the way she'd thrown the man to his death, but changed directions at the last second towards the rear of the big vehicle sitting in the motel room.

The driver put the selector in reverse and pushed the pedal. Power went to all four wheels, but the vehicle didn't move. The driver pushed a little more, and the engine's note changed. He looked in the rear view mirror and nearly shit his pants. Even partially obscured by hanging ceiling tiles and roof debris, he saw that woman. Her muscles were fully engaged now, protruding along her body wherever he looked. She pushed against the big SUV and impossibly held it in place. The driver pushed the pedal down to the floor. The air filled with rancid smoke as the tire chewed threw the cheap motel carpet before getting to the smooth concrete beneath. The tires laid down layer after layer of rubber, but even with all of its weight the SUV couldn't find grip enough to move this Femme. X-417 hunched her shoulders and bowed her back. She put the soles of her shoes to the test as she did the impossible. She started pushing the vehicle forward.

The driver frantically tried to maneuver the vehicle, finally turning the steering wheel left and right. X-417 leaned her body and directed her push to counteract his movements. Everything was happening quickly, so quickly that neither man paid attention to anything other than defeating this too strong bitch. The didn't notice the smells coming from the expansive but damaged engine compartment. Mixed in with the overwhelming scent of burning rubber was the smell of overheating steel.

Coolant wasn't traveling through the motor after the water pump had been damaged, but that didn't cause the fire under the hood. Brake fluid from the broken reservoir leaked onto the overheated block and after a very short time the flames spread. They might have stopped if the engine had simply locked up, but if American automakers made one thing extremely well, it was engines. It would melt into a solid block of cast steel before it actually stopped running, so this just fueled the flames until some curtains spread across the hood caught fire then some broken wood from the window frame. After a few more seconds, the smashed couch in front of the smashed grill began to smolder.

"We have to get out of here!", the leader yelled over the roar of the engine and the squealing of the tires. The driver finally took his foot off the gas suddenly. The 300 horsepower stopped pushing against X-417's body, but her muscles didn't stop pushing against the SUV. Unencumbered, X-417's strength blasted the GMC forward so fast that men inside had their heads thrown back. X-417's churning legs gained speed as she shoved tons of steel through the smoldering building. The roof collapsed behind X-417 as she sent the SUV through the supports. Even the steel beams hidden in the wall snapped like twigs. One of the jagged little ends from a metal support tore into the vehicle's gas tank as it sped over it. X-417's enhanced nose smelled the gas instantly, but she was already committed. The front of vehicle sustained another tremendous impact as it broke through the brick and block rear wall of the motel. The SUV was relatively intact considering what it had already been through. There was just three feet between the motel's rear wall and a one of the numerous East Kentucky ridges. The vehicle didn't survive this collision. With X-417 still supplying her massive strength, the SUV hit solid stone like it had been driving into it on purpose. Both occupants were thrown forward. Even X-417 wasn't immune to the sudden stop.

She smashed into the rear of the vehicle hard enough to break through the rear doors. She sailed through the cargo area. Her shoulder broke through the rear most seats. Her head hit and dented the floorpan. She cartwheeled inside the vehicle and came to a rest only an arm's length from the driver. It was the team leader whose vision cleared enough for him to see the Femme only inches away. He snatched the pistol from his hip. X-417 could have attacked, but she knew something he didn't. She pushed off against his seat. The force threw the leader against the dashboard. He lost his aim just long enough for X-417 to jump through the gaping hole her body had made in the rear of the SUV. The leader fired several shots in her direction. He couldn't tell if any hit because so much debris was in his way. He saw her again, running towards daylight at the front  of the motel. The leader took careful aim. Just as his finger started to press the trigger, everything around him exploded with heat and flames.

The blast knocked X-417 to the ground. She backed away from the heat and watched the dissipating fireball rise towards the sky. The motel only smoldered as the explosion had actually blown out most of the fire. The programing calculated that the explosion had extinguished the lives of the men who'd attacked her as well. It was wrong. A bullet struck the beautiful Femme in the neck. Her hand went to the wound while she ducked and ran.  She spun as a second shot came her way. She took cover behind the old pickup truck trying to keep more blood from flowing from her wounded neck.

X-417 didn't see the team leader pull himself through a broken section of roof. In the clear he took another shot that impacted the truck. He cursed that antiquated thing. It seemed to be her best damned friend. He would have walked along the still standing section of roof to shoot over the obstacle, but he feared a cave in and jumped to the ground. His right hand sported some burns and the hair on the left side of his head was singed. The palm of his left hand hurt him more than all the other injuries. He reached to save his driver after the intense heat and pressure wave passed. X-417's push had put him mostly behind the passenger seat and that seat had saved his life. The driver hadn't been so lucky. A piece of wood no bigger than a nail file had hit his driver in the neck. He bled to death before the flames could burn him. That was a small mercy. This woman wasn't going to get any mercy though. He was going to kill her.

The leader moved tactically trying to get an angle on X-417. He knew these super soldiers had weakness too and maybe he'd found one. The shot to neck seemed to have slowed her down. He got closer to the truck knowing that she was probably right on the other side of it. He was tempted to put some rounds through it and hope to hit her, but hope would get him killed. He'd wait for the right time and then strike. Only the right time never happened.

X-417 was just on the other side of the truck and she knew where he was. They circled the truck once and when he was standing next to the hood, X-417 put her hands against it and pushed. The truck spun like a top. The leader had been facing the wrong way and could only swear before the truck hit him square in the face. Blood leaked from a big gash that opened on his cheek. He tried to back pedal faster than she pushed, but that didn't happen either. X-417's legs churned like they had when she'd pushed his SUV through the building. The truck spun so fast that he was forced to the ground with the truck on top of him. He screamed and swore as X-417 pushed the truck fully on top of him despite his best efforts to stop it. The truck teetered for a moment before one more push from X-417 sent it over. The desperate man threw both his hands up as the truck crashed down to the ground.

X-417 put her hands on her knees. The programming went into damage assessment mode, but her head snapped up when a car sped into the lot. The programming realized at once that it was Morgen Stern's car and that he was driving it without anybody else in the vehicle. He stopped and jumped from the car to hurry to the scene.

X-417 was covered in soot and blood, some of it was hers and some of it wasn't. He didn't bother to ask if she was all right. It was X-417 who spoke first. "These men attacked me nine minutes and fifty-three seconds after I arrived in this parking lot. I defended myself. Did I do anything against your wishes?"

That question made Morgen smile. "No, you did what was necessary." Just then the truck gave a lurch. The leader used his own enhanced strength to pull his torso from beneath the side of the truck. X-417 started towards the man, but Morgen put a hand to her shoulder. "Go sit in the car. I'll be there in a moment." She left, and Morgen walked to the leader who kept struggling to free his legs, only stopping when a unknown man stood over him. The leader looked Morgen wishing his gun wasn't out of his hands, but it was.

"Did Alphonse DeBraya send you?", Morgen asked the question he wanted to know above all others.

"No", the leader replied instantly, to his own surprise.

"Did he have knowledge of this action against my associate?", Morgen asked using his power.

"No", the man replied with a look of confusion coming on his stressed face.

Morgen seemed to relax after that second no. He crouched next to the man. "So who did send you?", Morgen asked without using his powers.

"I'm not going to tell you shit!", the man grunted. Morgen tisked and suddenly the man started talking without even wanting to. "Gregg White."

Morgen frowned. He'd heard that name before. "The same one who used to run Global Finance Corp?"

"Yes."

Morgen knew that Alphonse's organization had access to lots of money, but if Gregg White was involved then their resources would be for all practical purposes unlimited. That wasn't good news for Morgen or for the Broker. "How are he and Alphonse DeBraya connected?"

"They are both full members of the Covent."

"What business do they have in Kentucky?"

"This is one of the central coordination centers for the Eastern US and has been for a very long time." The man was crying now as he tried to regain control of his own actions, but Morgen wasn't finished with him yet.

"Why did Gregg White send you?"

"To teach you a lesson in humility. You work for us and shouldn't be snooping on your betters."

"Betters?", Morgen repeated with a chuckle.

"What other full members have you met personally?"

"Just one more. William Granger."

Morgen actually gasped at that name. He'd met Billy Granger in East Berlin in 1981. Back then Morgen had been a punk kid looking to help bring down the Warsaw Pact, and Billy Granger had been a former Navy Seal who was on his first high profile undercover espionage mission. That meeting had lasted for only two minutes. Both men had made an impression on the other, and both had gone on to bigger and better things. Morgen had an information gathering empire of his own, but Billy's was much, much larger. As the Director of the National Clandestine Service, Billy was the CIA's top spy and privy to pretty much every piece of information the United States gathered all over the world. Morgen smiled then, and filed that little nugget away in his mind.

He stood up, but kept looking down at the man who was both angry and ashamed that he'd told so much information. No matter how hard he commanded his mouth to stay shut more and more information had passed between his lips.

"I want you to relay a message to Gregg White for me", Morgen said then started walking towards the car.

"I'm not going to relay shit!", the trapped man screamed, trying to regain some defiance.

Morgen retrieved something from the glove box then came back to stand over the man. "No, you'll give him the exact message I want to send." Morgen leveled the pistol and fired a single bullet into the man's forehead. Morgen had caused the death of many people, but it had been a while since he'd actually gotten his hands dirty. He didn't feel bad though. If anything he felt relieved that if need be he still had what it took to end a life, even if this murder had been committed just to allow Morgen some breathing room.

He was about to go back to the Ford, when a man at the end of the building tried to block his scream with the palm of his hand. It didn't quite work. Morgen turned towards the motel's office and sighed. If the windows had been broken by the earlier explosion Morgen never would have heard him. He wasn't above using a bit of luck to his advantage.

"Come out!", Morgen called. "I'm not going to shoot you, unless you don't come out!"

The man held his hands up and slowly rose from behind the counter. The overturned television was showing 'Final Jeopardy', but the manager didn't even look at it as he walked towards the man beckoning him closer. Morgen wore a smile on his handsome face as the man came to stand about five feet from him.

"You can put your hands down." The manager did. His eyes never left Morgen's face, but the man's mind was all over the place. He'd seen things that he couldn't believe were real. He'd seen a hot Black chick pick up a fucking truck and he'd seen that same woman jump like 20 feet in the air and do all kinds of impossible shit. Add that to the other guys who'd shot up the motel. This was easily the most exciting day of his entire life. It was too bad that to his dying day he wouldn't remember a bit of it.

"I'm going to need you to forget what you saw here. You didn't see me, or anything I did. You didn't see the attack either. By the time you came out from behind the counter everything was over."

The man nodded and Morgen started walking towards the car then stopped. "Go call the authorities", he suggested with a shake of his head. The manager snapped back to himself and ran into the motel office. By the time he picked up the receiver Morgen and his rented Ford were gone.

Every cop in the county showed up with the fire department and medical personnel. They were there for hours and hours, but only minutes after the first cop arrived Gregg White learned why he hadn't heard from his team. He'd sent those men to their deaths mostly for his own ego. That was a crushing blow to a man who wasn't used to receiving blows at all.

He got the preliminary police reports from another source some time later. It was easy to see that four of his men had been killed by Morgen's assistant whoever she was. Gregg had learned too late that she had to be enhanced in some sort of way. She might have even been gifted. Either way Gregg's haste had cost some of his men their lives. If Morgen had such people at his disposal then it would be in Gregg's best interest to seek some allies. He had someone in mind to call. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table as he read about the death of the team leader.

Unlike any of the other men, he'd been killed with a bullet, a single gunshot to the forehead. The preliminary report couldn't determine when the team leader had died, but Gregg already knew. That unfortunate man had died last, shot by Morgen Stern himself. The woman, whoever she was, had been strong enough to kill in any of a hundred ways, and she hadn't shot any of the others. No, Morgen had shot that bullet to land directly at Gregg's feet. Gregg had set out to send a message, and had instead received one of his own. Morgen Stern wasn't a man to be taken lightly. Gregg would swallow his pride for now, and make every effort not to interfere with Alphonse's new wunderkind.

"Mom?", Cassie began. Her gift allowed her to feel all the heavy emotions in the room and it was almost overwhelming. "What's going on?"

"Oh, come in baby", Hayfa said and walked over to put her arms around her daughter's shoulders. It broke Hayfa's heart to see her usually vivacious daughter bowing to the solemn energy in this room. Of course what was coming next wasn't going to be any easier.

"Have a seat, darling", Jeremy Redwine told his daughter. "Your Mom's going to explain some things to to you."

"Sweety", Hayfa began. "There's a war coming."

to be continued....

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