A Thief in the Night

Pietro raised the collar of his leather jacket against the chill of the February wind. That was the problem with living in the northeast. It stayed cold for so damned long. The back of his neck and ears were starting to feel numb from the icy wind when he reached his destination. His father was sending him on an errand and he had been instructed to do nothing to bring attention to himself. He hated it when the bastard made little demands like that. It wasn't like he got in a lot of trouble. He'd become too good at getting away from things. Police were fools. Even with the knowledge that mutants had skills that surpassed regular humans, they still couldn’t think outside the box.


Pietro blew into his hands, trying to warm them. He usually wasn't outside for very long so he hadn't dressed for the weather. The old man noticend ind it was probably the reason he'd told him not to use his speed. Damned if he'd give the man the satisfaction of complaining about it. Wanda had warned him that their father was in a mood. Despite her anger at him over his actions a few days earlier, she was still his only true ally. loveloved him and he loved her. Despite the rocky start to rebuilding their relationship, they shared a close bond of a common enemy. Dear old Dad.


They both knew that Magneto played them off each other, and the old man knew it too, which made it all the more difficult to avoid. The powerful mutant was obviously grooming his son to take over running 'things' in his absence. The man never talked about death. He didn't want to give his children any ideas. Despite his assurances that Pietro was his only male heir and would therefore inherit power, Wanda still held one thing over their father that made his position precarious. Fear. Magneto was just a little bit afraid of his daughter. With the exception of Charles Xavier, Wanda was one of the few people who'd held her own in a battle against him. True, she'd never beaten him, but she'd been very young and untrained at the time.


Magneto had never considered his son to be any kind of threat to him. Afterall, the boy was only fast. Pietro quickened pacepace a little, nothing too drastic, but the apartment building he was looking for came into view. He wasn't in a very nice part of town, and he regretted, again, his choice of wardrobe; but for a different reason. He wore designer jeans and boots with a snug white shirt and an expensive leather coat. He screamed "Money" and would prefer to get his errand done before any potential muggers took notice. He entered the building and rang the button for the apartment number he'd been given. The door buzzed open and he walked into the lobby, his boots made a slight crunching noise on the dirty tiles.


Pietro walked up the stairs slowly. He wanted to warm up a little before his meeting. He didn't like to look anything more than completely comfortable and in control. If he was shivering and had snot sliding down his lip, it would hardly give off the desired impression. He wiped his nose on a linen handkerchief and stopped ode ade a door on the third floor. He rolled his shoulders slightly, forcing his muscles to relax. He rapped his knuckles sharply on the door and waited for the peephole to darken, indicating the inhabitant was checking him out. He gave the peephole an irritated glance. The door opened and a short, skinny man wearing a rumpled shirt with sweat stains under the arms beckoned him inward.


Pietro wrinkled his nose as the odors from a few days worth of fried leftovers assad hid his senses. The small kitchen was covered in styrafoam boxes from various take-out restaurants, and very little of the remains had been tossed in the overflowing trash bin. As disgusted as he was by the man's complete lack of personal and household hygene, he knew it meant that he'd been preoccupied with other matters. It was these other matters that brought him here tonight. Following the man to the back of the apartment, Pietro spotted a tidy worktable that held a sleek laptop computer and various tools and gadgets, only half of which he could begin to identify.
"Right on time, Mr. Brite." The little man said, rubbing the back of his neck as if to ease its tension. Both men knew that Pietro wasn't using his own name, but there was no point in dwelling on it.


"Just show me what you have, Jonesey." He replied, trying to keep his impatience out of his voice. The little man was easily distracted and could use a little Ritalin. But he was also brilliant in the field of genetic research. Stuck, as many brilliant minds were, working as a tech for one of New York's most prestigious labs, he'd been ambitious enough to think it was unfair. He was a rare find, and Pietro couldn't afford to offend him yet. The odds of locating another underappreciated genius who'd realized his own potental and wanted to make a profit were slim. He wiped his disgusted expression from his face as the man turned to face him. He held a vial in his hand that contained a faint yellow liquid in it.


"This is it, Brite." He said triumphantly. "It's what they've had me working on for months now." His close-set eyes glittered eagerly. "It's supposed to be an early activator for a mutant gene. It's also used in conjunction with a complete neurological exam to predict the way a mutation will manifest."


"There's only a little bit here." Pietro frowned. Jonesey looked annoyed.
"T "The security at the lab is really tight, but I know most of the formula and I can use this to figure out the rest of the components in order to synthesize it myself." Pietro knew that labs like the one where this man worked often didn't tell their techs what they were working on in order to keep them from leaking to the press. With a breakthrough like this one, secrecy would be paramount.


"How long do you think it'll take for you to figure out the ingredients?" skedsked. Focusing on the glass vial.


"Less than two weeks." Before the taller man could pretest he added, "I still have to work, you know. I can't afford to take a sudden vacation and let them continue to test without me."


"I'll pay well if you can do it in ten days." The man's eyes widened greedily. "And if we like you're work, maybe we'll offer you another position." He turned away, then, not wanting to watch the little ferret smack his lips like a hungry animal. He looked over some of the gadgets that lay on the worktable. "What are these?" He asked, pointing to a set of metal wristbands that were thicker and clunkier than watchbands, but not much larger.


"I doubt it would be anything to interest you." Jonesey said, circling around and setting the vial down in a test tube holder. He rubbed his hands in an obviously greedy gesture. The man had absolutely no control over himself. It was only a matter of time before he was caught stealing from the lab. Pietro gave him a sharp look.


"I'll be the judge of that." He said coldly. He picked up one of the bracelets and looked it over. There was no obvious power source, but there were a number of wires running from it to a larger, unidentifiable box that sat next to the laptop. Jonesey stepped up quickly and all but snatched the object out of his hands. He could have held onto it if he'd wanted to, but he allowed the man to take it back.


"You're looking for stuff that speeds up mutations." He said, placing the band back on the table with an almost reverent gentleness, these are my own design and when they work, they'll block the signal from the brain that activates the mutant gene." When Pietro looked interested he went on. "I call it an 'Inhibitor.'" He said triumphantly.


"Kind of a mouthful." Pietro replied, feigning boredom. He gave the man some money, but not enough to make him think of leaving town, and promised more upon completion of the task he'd been set. "And Jonesey." He said, turning to face the man as he reached for the door. "Let me know when you've got those wristbands completed. I know someone who'd be willing to test them." He left and walked down to the street. His mind was spinning with possibilities. Dad had been anxious about how to identify and activate a mutation, but Pietro would be much more interested in a way to inhibit a few of the deadlier gifts. One in particular came to mind.