Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

1. Mutie-Lovers

The early morning was getting rather cool, with the wind dragging progressively darker clouds across the sky. Frank Alcott put on a leather jacket over his light shirt.

"They was talkin' 'bout it bein' a sunny day on the radio just now. 'Stead, it gets like this!"

Leaning on a sheriff car, Frank looked up at the sky and shook his greying head lightly. The younger man at his side, slightly shorter and just as fit looking, agreed with a distracted nod.

"Weather changes fast, this time o' the year. From warm an' sunny ta cold and rainy in a blink o' the eye. There's no need o' no weather guy predictin' what can't be predicted."

"Yeah, jus' don't ya get talkin' o' no rain, Mick." Frank stood up and stretched his still imposing figure. "It ain't gonna help no one if it starts rainin'."

Frank went over to the other side of the road, where an old battered car lay. He peeked inside and grinned. A young man slept peacefully on the back seat, his purple hair dishevelled. Frank opened the driver's door very carefully and then banged it close. He almost laughed when the young man jumped up, his eyes wide from the scare showing irises eerily red on a black background. He banged his head on the car ceiling and cursed loudly.

"Watch that tongue o' yours, boy." Frank was still grinning good-naturedly, and the young man eased up. "Shouldn't ya be studyin', son? I hear ya got a great deal o' school books ta read."

"Just a few." He rubbed his eyes carefully and moved to the door. "It's early in the school year, Pa. There'll be plenty o' time."

Frank looked at Mick on the other side of the road and said thoughtfully.

"Law school is hard, boy. But it's gonna be mighty useful ta everyone. Ya don't wanna ruin yer chances o' climbin' out o' somethin' like this... Small beans. That's what we're playin' fer, here: small beans. Ya play yer hand right, and ya'll be helpin' folks big time. Ya just have ta hang on ta them books."

"Yeah, yeah; I know. It's just I can't read anything with these contact lenses on."

As if to prove his point, he restarted rubbing his eyes lightly. Frank looked at him slightly concerned.

"Well then, why don't ya take 'em off while we're waitin' and get..." a sudden shrill whistle interrupted him. From the other side of the road, Mick signalled that a car was approaching. Frank was immediately on the move.

When the white mini-van came to an obedient halt behind the sheriff's car, the purple haired youth was nowhere to be seen. Mick was entering the mini-van's license plate on a small laptop as Frank approached the vehicle.

"'Morning, ma'am."

With an expert eye, he noticed that the Hispanic woman was very young and that she unfastened her seat belt as if she was going to get out of the car, but checked herself with a smooth hesitation. She ended up opening the window only slightly, and then opened it a bit more to make conversation easier.

"Good morning, Mister officer. Is somesing wr... ah... Quer dizer, is somesing I can help?"

Frank almost frowned. The woman wasn't American, but she didn't have the typical Hispanic accent... No, the accent was actually pretty regular, but she certainly wasn't a fluent English speaker. Other than that, she was nervous, although trying to act coolly; but, most importantly, she had been taught to deal with traffic officers' by the book. Definitely suspicious.

"May I see your documents, please?"

"Ah, yes, of course." She started by further opening the window then stopped with a guilty start and fumbled in her bag for an ordinary dark wallet.

Frank looked at the driver's license and then back at the nervously smiling woman. She looked younger than the twenty-two years old her documents claimed.

"Well, Miss Maria Irbis... I see ya're from Wausau. Got some family there myself... Near the University. Ya been livin' there fer long?"

She smiled openly, exuding honesty.

"No, I live in Wausau at... Bem, since de beginning off..." The woman suddenly blushed and stuttered a little before finishing with an embarrassed "dis summer".

Despite being suspicious, Frank smiled reassuringly and asked whether she was enjoying her stay. She only nodded, with a guilty smile.

"Unfortunately, ma'am, we been havin' some problems with car thieves 'round these parts and one o' the stolen cars we lookin' fer happens ta be a white mini-van... Just like this one." She blinked, apparently unsure of how to react. "I'll have ta ask ya to wait a few minutes as we cross yer document's information with the police database. If ya don't mind, that is..."

Mick was already near the car and even before she could have said anything, Frank gave him her documents. Mick smiled at her and walked back to the laptop. Frank excused himself and followed suit.

"'Morning, ma'am." The woman nearly jumped out of her skin, but the young man held nothing but the most soothing smile.

"Ah... Good morning."

He noticed she was trying not to stare at his purple hair and red eyes.

"Name's Jack. Jack Muddley." He paused, but she only stuttered and didn't give her own name. "Don't ya worry 'bout the sheriff. He's stopped dozens o' cars so far and it never took more than five ta ten minutes. Ya ain't runnin' late, are ya?"

"Oh, no. I... I've got time."

"Glad ta hear that. Most car accidents happen when ya're speeding 'cause ya're runnin' late."

She smiled, relaxing with the youth's obvious ease, and agreed wholeheartedly. He then asked her if she was going somewhere far.

"Yes, you can say dat."

"Lucky you. I'm stuck here; darned car over there keeps breaking down..." He looked at the beaten car with a sigh. "'S a pity I ain't got no money ta fix it."

"I hope ya won't mind me askin'," he suddenly said turning back to Irbis with a cute coy smile, "...but ya wouldn't happen ta be a mutant yerself, would ya?"

"Mutant, eu?" Irbis chuckled. "No, no. I'm not mutant."

"Ain't ya got nothin' ta do 'cept botherin' the lady?" Irbis jumped in her seat, failing to notice the youth was neither surprised nor upset at the sheriff's rough tone. "Everything's okay, ma'am?"

"Yes... Thank you, but de boy is OK. He was very sympathic."

Frank paused imperceptibly before commenting in a worried tone.

"Glad ta hear that, ma'am. Most people won't put up with no mutant, no matter how nice he may be." He went back to his normal voice. "Everything seems ta be in order. Ya're free ta go, now."

"Thank you, Mister officer."

"Lemme just warn ya there's a detour a lil' up the road, 'cause o' some road work. Ya go this way, and ya're on the lookout fer the first turning t'yer right. There'll be an arrow pointing ta the turnin', but ya don't even need ta see it. First turning t'yer right. Ya go up to a gas station and they'll tell ya the fastest way ta get to wherever ya goin'."

The woman smiled and thanked him. As she started the car, the purple haired youth waved good-bye and she waved back.

As the car disappeared, Mick joined Frank and told him that everything was in place. The young man was taking off the contact lenses.

"Hey, Junior. Great show back there. Ya sure had the chick goin'!"

The youth smiled and continued fighting off the red lenses, but Frank was snorting with disgust.

"Good show! Good show'd be seein' the woman wantin' 'im ta disappear. Darned mutie-lovers... They're worse than the mutants 'emselves. Mutants ain't human ta start with; these freaks turn their backs on humanity o' their own free will."

The station wasn't as close as she had thought and only after five minutes driving did she glimpse a lonely building up ahead. She thought about the mutant boy briefly, feeling pleased. She had been able to suppress her years of 'training', back home, to fall into informative chit-chat without second thought. Today, she had had a dismally poor and almost anti-social chit-chat, but had managed not to reveal anything about herself, nor asked anything about the boy or the officer's family. Creed might not have been happy at her distractions, getting ready to get off the car, opening the window too much. But, for a first time, she told herself, she had behaved just fine.

Irbis was feeling very confident when she stopped the car. The building was old but looked solid enough. An old man was sitting on a wooden chair near the gas pumps, which were old and looked out of order. He got up when Irbis got off the car and spit to the floor.

"Lookin' fer a map, are ya?" His voice was hard and filled with scorn. Irbis hesitated for a second, before nodding affirmatively. "Follow me. I got'em in the shop."

Irbis hesitated and remained near her van. The man entered the building and asked where she was heading to. The room was pitch black and Irbis got a sudden wish of getting in the car and speeding away. The old man's face appeared at the entrance.

"I ain't heard where ya was headin'." His eyes were hard and she found herself thinking about Creed, when he was seething with rage. "I got'em maps in here. Ya gonna have ta come in an' see fer yerself which way ya wanna go."

You're being stupid. She told herself. It's just an old man... But her instincts were yelling at her to take off. Remember when you were kidnapped in Portugal and then at the Library. Remember those men in the woods. Remember what Mr Creed has told you again and again: you can't defend yourself, so take precautions to the limit of common sense. Be careful!

The man was getting annoyed, restless. She was very close to the open door of the van, the car keys in her hand. The man smiled. An evil smile that reminded her of a warm night in Portland. Almost without meaning it, she turned around and opened her eyes in helpless disbelief as a rough looking man punched her in the face.

The last thought to cross her mind was of how Mr Creed was going to have good reasons to be mad at her.