Six months later

***

The fishing boat was moving slowly; the captain had been, frankly, an absolute pain for the last few hours; and it didn't help that Jimmy's headache had been growing worse by the hour. He wasn't even the only one with a headache; aside from Dave, who'd spent the whole time working on the engine, everybody was complaining.... must be a fever of some sort.

Jimmy gave the lever a sudden tug; the motor on the winch started up, and a few of the other crewmen all reached out, helping to guide the net as it lifted up; dumping literal tons of fish and various sea-life onto the deck. He grimaced when he saw the haul; more of those damned crabs. "Aren't these things supposed to be endangered?"

One of the other crew took out a long hooked pole; and started firmly tugging one of the giant coconut crabs, trying to toss it over the side; but the creature let out a strange, bubbling hiss; and the man collapsed, holding his head in his hands, pole landing among the others... as Jimmy's headache became unbearable. "Ahhh... fuck.. what..." He clutched his head, backing away, closing his eyes... not even seeing one of the other crabs lumbering towards him.... its claws moving, digging into the soft flesh around his throat; even the agony of his torn throat not comparing to the pounding inside his skull.

***

"So, before we go over the first batch of results the director sent down... which one feels like the better option?"

Arakiel stared down at the two cases on the table. "...Neither. I get a general bad feeling about both choices. Just equal; whatever they are, both are just as bad." He glanced up at Sam, frowning. "Honestly, boss... they all feel bad lately. A few days out, or things going on right now, they all feel fine. The injections, I could tell you that all but two of them would be absolutely damn terrible. Powers work. But ever since we talked to Apollo.... its like I can't predict anything past the immediate future. Its odd, because Apollo even told me that his own powers have been a bit finnicky since then as well; though they'd already started to get weird as soon as I first started using mine."

Dr. Torrance looked down at the two cases on his desk; just in case the stock market was going to crash, they'd decided to use a different test this time; and one case contained ten pounds of gold, the other ten pounds of ration bars. The food should only be the better option in absolutely horrific situations. The only way neither should work is if they'd all be destroyed before opening... or if his powers were being weakened.

"Well, shit. You've stoked quite a bit of optimism lately, especially considering the results I was about to give you, and this sets it back a ways."

"Can't be sure. As soon as I think about acting on an idea, I get the feeling. Just for example... I know I could beat you in a fight, but if I imagine attacking you, it feels awful; obviously that would have terrible consequences. There's things I get mixed feelings about... like recruiting Disaster back when we started. But this upcoming experiment? Feels like a good idea."

Sam sighed. "I... hate to say it. But you remember how we asked you for semen samples back when you started?"

"Of course. I've been keeping up to date on it, actually talked to a few of the moms... though not all of them want anything to do with me." Arakiel shrugged. "Feels weird to know I'm gonna have like... six kids in a few months."

"Well. If precognition gets weaker, the more precognitives there are, because everybody's precognition starts to mess with each other's.... it could be your timeline for turning it all to static lines up with the first kid being born. We've already checked their X-rays; at least three of them are going to be born with a third eye. Possibly even more."

He blinked. "Ahhh.... fuck. Okay then. We need to get the kids offworld, and onto the colony ships. Hell. Maybe me, too; now that he's figured out the secret for why the Jotun were gonna win, Apollo can probably handle things without me."

Sam blinked... and leaned back in his chair, focusing on the three-eyed man before him. ".....What do your powers say about sending the kids away? Good feeling? Bad?"

Arakiel tilted his head, thinking. "I think I need something actionable to really trigger it."

"Alright." The doctor tapped at his keyboard for a minute, whistling to himself... and then looked up. "Okay. If I hit enter, or you step around and hit enter for me, I'll be sending a request to Thomes to get the kids offworld with their moms. Good, or bad?"

Arakiel leaned forward, close enough to press the button, imagining pressing it... "Ahh... fuck. Good. Not pushing the button feels terrible. Either something's gonna happen to kill the kids, or you're right, and them being here messes with my powers... and Apollo's. This... sucks. I was planning to be there for however many of the births I could manage, aside from the three married couples."

Sam nodded... and added a few more lines, typing away... before pressing send. "Well. That'll be that. I'll talk to the director. It might be better for Earth if you go with them, though it'll mean giving up control to a band of immortal lunatics who aren't too fond of us. Still Some vaguely positive news; out of the thousand stocks you picked, each of which we bought a thousand dollars worth, roughly, of shares.... eight of the ones you chose were the ones with the biggest gains. Your bonus for the past six months just jumped by over a hundred grand; more proof your long-term powers are real, if there was any doubt. One of them merely did okay... because the CEO got arrested. I suspect we're looking at a butterfly effect situation; some decision you made after the picks led to his crimes being discovered."

"Not too shabby, but honestly, I don't know what to do with the money I've already got. What about number ten?"

"Number ten was a penny stock; a thousand bucks was thousands of shares, a good solid chunk of the company. It looked like it was going to have a resurgence; the CEO was going to release something special; but it fell through. The shares have pretty much no value... but mean you'll get to pick from among the company's assets as it gets dissolved in a few weeks. I'd call that one a loser.... but for all I know you're gonna find a crate full of gold in that warehouse."

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Arakiel blinked. "Well. That could be fun. Or it could just be a trip to the dump. I guess we'll see. Is it time for the real experiment?"

"Of course. Though... Steven gets to go first."

***

The lab had two gurneys laid out in the center of the floor; each with dozens of small metallic tendrils, tipped with a needle, over them. Doctor Disaster was standing at a computer console not far away; and thousands of different devices were scattered across the room. His 'personal' lab; where his own private, but monitored, experiments were being carried out, was on the other side of a heavy-duty divider, in the event his most recent project; an augmented flying 'immortal' jellyfish; managed to get loose.

One of the two gurneys had an unconscious figure laying on it; Steven Maxwell, mastermind behind much of Project Ground, wearing a metal band around his head, and with a series of injectors all just a few inches away from his flesh; three over each arm, four over each leg, three over the torso and one over the throat; with the biggest, longest needle leveled directly over his heart.

A young woman in a black gothic outfit was sitting in a soundproof booth, reading something on her iphone and glancing around at the equipment every few minutes; before returning to whatever had her so engrossed. As Arakiel entered the room; or, well, Jason, at the moment; the armor was upstairs, he was just wearing a white bodysuit, identical to the one Steven was wearing; with tiny metal spots on it to note where the injections needed to go, covering him from his throat down to his wrists and ankles.

Disaster glanced at him for a moment; then back at the woman; and sighed, shaking his head, as Jason stepped closer. "Well. They seem to have the utmost confidence in these powers of yours. And you do as well, considering your push to participate. Mister Maxwell... I give better than a thirty percent chance of success. He's very similar to his cousin, genetically, his powers are similar, and those powers promote rapid healing."

Jason blinked, as he sat on the gurney. "Only thirty percent?"

Disaster sighed. "Look. Every mutant is genetically unique, more different from the next than he is from an ordinary human. Me, you, Lightning, and Steven, all of us have powers that alter our brain function. But our structures are all altered in fundamentally different ways; as similar as they seem on the surface, both gentlemen have brains more different from each other than from an unaltered human. Steven and Lightning, while genetically similar, have dramatically divergent brains. Lightning's genetics, as they take over Steven's body, will have to adapt a very different brain structure in order to work.... but the thing is, even if Steven's brain structure remains as-is, if Lightning's powers simply overwrite the rest of his genetics... we would still arrive with a workable body."

"Interesting. Would you have gone through with it, if I weren't here making predictions, and Thomes backing me up?"

"No. If Steven were some criminal, or some useless idiot, perhaps; thirty percent was better odds than the minimum I was willing to risk for the cartel. But he's a brilliant man whose power only augments his brilliance; he's been of tremendous help with my own work. I'm honestly surprised he can't seem to grasp my methodology; but then, his work on producing exotic materials for project Rip is far beyond my own capacity, so I suppose we all have weaknesses."

"Project Rip?"

Disaster laughed. "Go ahead and lie down, we'll get you settled. There's a metahuman who works for the DMA; name of Ripper. We're currently working on replicating his powers via technology; pulling objects into and out of another universe. We had our first success last week; I believe Steven wanted to make sure we had a working prototype, in the event you were wrong, and this killed him."

As Jason lay down; and Disaster carefully set each of the needles into position; the door slid open once more; and three figures entered.

One, Jason had grown intimately familiar with; he smiled at Imperious; the golden-haired woman currently wearing normal athletic-wear, and with four arms rather than wings, looking at him with a blend of worry and disapproval. She set a hand on his arm. "You sure about this?"

Jason grinned. "I've got a good feeling about it. Besides; if it works, I'll be able to fly without a suit."

Director Thomes stood next to Doctor Torrance, following him into the room as they reached the main control console; and Disaster looked at the two men, nodding. "Gentlemen. This is your last chance to call this off. Foresight or no, I give it a seven out of ten chance that you leave this room with two corpses; and a ninety-nine percent chance you leave it with one."

Thomes glanced down at the heavyset lead he'd chosen for Project: Ground... and shook his head. "No. I've let Sam run this so far, and Arakiel has shown himself to be right so far. And even if it goes awry... we do have someone on-hand to help." He glanced at the young goth girl, and gave her a nod. She glanced at the director, and waved through the glass. "Witchlock hasn't been cleared to know about the precognition, or even exactly what you're doing here. She'll need to be on-hand in case anything goes wrong, so I need to be completely clear with this. We refer to the process as integration, once she's out here, and don't mention how we know it will work, or even that we do."

Disaster sighed. "Ahhh. Magic. I wish you'd let me have one of those magic-using criminals to study. I could learn so much.... the cartel tried to get me one, but... well. Still. It's all ready."

Thomes nodded. "Mister Maxwell first. We've kept him sedated long enough." He turned, walking over to the soundproof booth. "Good day young lady. I appreciate you coming down here to help me with this."

She looked up from her phone; and neatly slid it into her purse. "Well, I know you're trying to fix Steven, something grandpa couldn't do. So if this works, I can just feed a little juice into him and claim credit next month. He'll know I don't actually mean it, but it can be fun to play the insufferable brat sometimes. I just wonder... are you trying to give him the angel-boy's super-reflexes, help his body keep up with his mind?"

Thomes sighed. "Please don't speculate, miss. Disaster. It's time. Miss Witchlock, if you could stay near Steven, for now. If Disaster says, you may need to help him."

Disaster shook his head... and reached up; pulling a lever. "Alright. Warming up to body temperature to ease integration. The... integration serum will only be good for about two minutes afterwards, so if you call it off now, I'll need a whole new batch." He glanced around, as if expecting someone to come to their senses... and then shook his head; shoving the same lever back into place. All of the needles simultaneously slammed into Steven's body, causing his unconscious form to jerk; as the red liquid pumped into him from every spot at once.

For just a moment, nothing seemed to happen; as the needles started to slide free, and faint trickles of blood emerged from the holes... then... Steven's eyes burst open... and he looked around, studying the room... before smoothly rising to sit up. There was no delay; no sort of recovery. One moment, he was unconscious; the next.... perfectly fine. He looked around the room for a moment... and focused on Disaster. "It... worked better than expected. I'm currently modulating my perception to a normal timeframe, but... I suspect my body can keep up with my mind, now. Can you assess my biological state?"

Disaster studied his console for a few seconds, then glanced up. "Well. The... integration went perfectly. Your body and mind should be just as fast as each other now, though... the ability to control it is unexpected, I was thinking you'd still be trapped at a faster timescale, just with your body matching it."

Steven slowly nodded. "Well. I need to go. I must speak with Terminal. And with Mark." He carefully pulled to his feet; popping the sensors attached to his arms and chest off. "Thank you, Disaster. I will return for the checkup when you are ready for me." He started walking towards the door.. Thomes started to step in his path.

There was a pop; a few papers blown off the table, the director visibly shaken... Steven was behind him, at the door. "Apologies. I will try to be more careful going forward. But I have things to accomplish."

And.... he was gone.

Jason stared at the open doorway, and inhaled deeply. "Well, fuck. That went about as well as it could have. Alright, doc. My turn."