Dr. Everett Wayson had an exciting few months behind him. His own relatively rapid recovery from a variety of serious injuries was due to the very drugs he was working on; unfortunately not including an injection of the serum based on Will; he simply had the wrong blood-type.

His friend William, also his head of security, had insisted on changes; the old building had been torn down, written off as a loss on insurance. They now operated closer to the city, with more methods of calling for backup; dozens of phone lines, various backup generators, armored plates in walls; they couldn't guarantee better results if Eyeball hit again, but for anyone else with similar ideas Will's setup should prove effective. They even made it only two stories; a wide open campus, with two security rooms.

While all the files and samples of Reflex had been taken, he'd had everything else to work with; including one project that had led to his latest effort; 'Boost'. A sidestep of the Reflex program, he'd been working to try to make people just -think- faster.. and had achieved simultaneously amazing and tragic results.

While not nearly as fatal in results as Reflex, out of the current batch of volunteers, two out of twenty had been rendered... well, retarded, in a literal, medical sense. It had literally caused brain damage to the point that they were no longer mentally capable; though in all cases, for the duration of the dose; about two hours; had made the individual substantially quicker, able to answer questions, solve problems; and while physical reflexes hadn't been improved, it would likely still be extremely useful for scientists, pilots, gunners.

The one oddball result had been the most tragic case. One of the participants; a young man who was a metahuman, a low-grade telekinetic; had briefly had dramatically better abilities. He'd gone from barely able to move a few pounds to able to pick himself and others up. He'd been experimenting with his newfound powers when the effects had faded... and his powers alongside them. While the other two had gone from average intelligence and fairly normal mindsets to inability to navigate the world without assistance, he'd lost his gifts; and demanded a second, larger, dose.

Unfortunately, the researcher gave him that second dose; and he'd never awoken from the resulting coma. From Wayson's perspective, the man volunteered; anything that happened, especially when warned against it, was his own fault. The real problem is that... even a little telekinesis is enough for some very important jobs, and the CIA had been scouting the boy before the incident.

He'd received a quiet warning shortly, and advised he would be visited to discuss the consequences of his negligence to national security. And, of course... had just been informed someone from the DMA was on its way.

Wayson's new building campus had a helicopter pad on the rooftop; he was waiting beside it, nervously, when he saw a massive armored truck pulling up to the front gates; a DMA logo on the side. What the hell? Why would they drive out here? Wait. That sort of truck looked like it could handle quite a bit of weight. Was this going to simply be a more legal looting of his facility?

***

Going through the various heroes was a very different experience than the villains. For one, none of them wanted to be close to Eyeball; some of them were clearly considering trying to take him down, mutual enemies or not. For a second issue... they didn't trust him. Regardless of what sort of incentive he might've been offered, they all suspected he was in this to see them taken down.

The fact that he insisted on going armed made it worse; the military was willing to deal with the armed encampment of villains not a quarter-mile away; but one of them inside its base? Fade had to swear not to leave his side until he was through. Still, he gave what help he could. Pointed out flaws and weak spots in armor. Advised them who could; and who couldn't; survive an encounter with a rifle bullet.

Who needed armored visors, who needed full helmets, and of course, who should stay out of the line of fire entirely. The various angry, suspicious heroes finally came to a head when one named 'Daemon'; a red-skinned, clawed hero who looked like he should be in the other encampment, but was a fairly well-know hero with a powerful blend of strength, durability, and regeneration; stepped into Eyeball's path... and at first, simply attempted to shove him to the ground.

Eyeball, of course, saw this coming; and neatly stepped to the side, letting Daemon stumble.. and rise to his feet to glare at the villain, only to see the 40mm revolver centered on his head; his right eyeball, specifically. "You're tough. Really tough. But if I shoot you right now, this round is going to explode inside your brain. You ever met someone who had that happen? I met one of those super-regenerators who could heal even that. They didn't just forget their own name... they didn't even know how to use a toilet, or speak english. You try that bullshit again, and you either end up dead, or wishing you were."

There were murmurs. Growls. Raised weapons. Daemon apparently had retractable claws at each fingertip, and was seriously considering a lunge. Eyeball glanced back at Fade. "I'm still willing to honor my side of the deal, but I suspect it would be better to do it outside of the walls, and let anyone who wants advice come to me. If this freak makes me kill him, there'll be a trail of bodies between me and the exit, and I'll be too badly hurt to help kill machines in the morning."

That was a bit of an understatement. He recognized many of these heroes. There was every bit as much power in this camp as in the villain camp; even more, likely, especially if you considered the military. He could kill a fair number, yes... but he'd be dead or captured in the process.

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But... he did have a reputation. They all had seen what Spike looked like after his encounter, knew he'd killed Lightning, had seen videos of him in action... Fade moved to set a hand on Eyeball's shoulder... only to have the tenner pointed at his own eye. The way the barrel centered on his pupil without Eyeball moving his head, those red LEDs still facing Daemon, was a bit unnerving.

Fade coughed. "Ahh... if you let me, I'll just port you out of here, back to the other camp. I'll talk to my friends here, and anyone else who wants your advice, I'll send over."

Eyeball slowly turned his head to Fade. Focused. If he touched the teleporter, then after a few seconds he'd appear in the shadows outside the other base. He could see Daemon, apparently a bit nervous, moving his head, trying to get out of the line of that 40mm barrel... only to find it still tracking.

"Fine. You kept your end for the first half." He holstered the 10mm, and took Fade's hand; for a moment, it was darkness. As if they were falling into a bottomless pit. Then... he was by the fence. Fade and Eyeball were, for the moment, alone.

"Look. Kid."

"I'm 22. Not a kid. Not anymore."

Eyeball sighed, shaking his head. "I'm only about seven years older than you, but lets just say most of it's been a hard seven years. But... I can feel what you did. I feel lighter. Stronger. My guns, armor, all of it seems to weigh less than it did an hour ago. My odds of killing enough of these machines to get out alive just went up dramatically... and as I'm sure you're aware, my odds of killing you in a fight did as well."

"I've heard. Your service history had a long chain of, well. Borderline suicidal behavior. You'd go out, fight like hell, do something stupid, go to the hospital. Get out, do the same thing. Over and over. You should've died now, a dozen times over. You were a walking medical miracle. Survived shots to the lungs, the liver, the throat, IED fragments, legs crushed by rubble... Still. If you really think you can take me on? You've got another thing coming."

Honestly, it'd be close. Eyeball could see the possible future paths of a fight. Most of them, he'd come out ahead... but quite possibly ended up teleported somewhere extremely dark in the moments as Fade died.

"Perhaps. Still. I don't have anything against you, personally. Or any of the heroes. If Lightning had never shown up at that bank, my kill count would still consist entirely of enemies of america. I'm a professional soldier. I kill who needs killing, I do what I promise. If you still plan to keep up your end of the bargain, I won't just give advice here. I'll do my best to keep our people alive. As many as I can. As long as I can, however long that is against these things."

Fade nodded, and turned back to the military encampment. "Oh. Was that bit about once seeing a regenerator who'd literally had his brain destroyed true? Forgot even how to use a toilet?"

"Not quite."

Fade nodded, a touch relieved. His own powers of healing got better the more life force he held; and his ability to hold it was growing better over time. Someday, he'd be able to heal back from a brain injury like that.

"It was actually two guys. One of them was like a baby, completely unable to understand anything, docile, almost helpless but half again as strong as a normal man. The other was pretty much feral. Was actually trying to eat somebody alive when they used a flamethrower to put him down."

***

Inside Everett Wayson's office, Spike, Diss, and Wayson himself were sitting, quietly. Will was in the office, by the wall; ever the vigilant protector, especially after he'd seen what Wayson had done after the men left; literally dragging his broken body across rubble, debris, and all sorts of madness for just a tiny shot at reviving him. Will had encountered some fairly serious pain in his years as a mercenary and security guard; and his respect for his boss... and his friend... had gone up dramatically.

"Look, I received notice from the CIA someone was coming. I didn't know it would be someone this important, but... the truth is plain and simple. The medicine was non-fatal but hazardous; trials in primates had better than a 99% survivability rate, much better than our last medicine to go to human trials. If he'd only taken the one dose, he'd be perfectly healthy. He insisted on the second, fatal, dose, even threatened the researcher, and the cameras will prove it."

Spike gave a slow nod. He had no idea whatsoever what Wayson was talking about. But it probably had something to do with Apollo's reason for sending them here. "I'm not here to drag you off to prison, doctor. Give me the details. What, exactly, did that drug do."

Wayson stopped. He realized that maybe he wasn't about to be threatened, arrested, or robbed. "Well. In addition to the intended mental enhancement, the young man's ability to lift objects with telekinesis; previously limited to perhaps five or six objects, no more than four pounds at a time total; was amplified to well past four hundred pounds; likely more, we didn't get an opportunity to precisely measure. The unique brain structure that gave him his telekinetic powers, however, wasn't designed to handle this much stress... and essentially burned out."

He tapped at his keyboard for a moment. The holographic display emerged above the desk. "Now, every mutant is different. Frankly, aside from other telekinetics, most of them will have brains more different from the subject's than they are from my own, unless they happen to be related to him. But we can reasonably expect the drug to have roughly similar effects on other telekinetics, and, if either given a smaller dose, or if they simply refrain from using their power -too- excessively, they might be able to avoid losing it afterwards."

Diss nodded for a moment. "And if they didn't care if they still had their power after? Could you amp up the effect even more?"

"...Well. I can have my people run some tests, but if we used some of our earlier work with synthetic adrenaline, we could likely do so, and keep them alive through a larger dose. You might get a few minutes at hundreds or even thousands of times your power's normal capacity... but then afterwards, probably be dead, or have the power burned out for good just like our test subject if you survived. Likely even a coma for a while."

Diss smiled. "Perfect. I never really wanted this power anyway. Get me a double dose, and anything you can to make it stronger."

Spike turned to her, looking a bit concerned for a moment... as Diss raised her hand to forestall his complaints. "This was meant to be, David. This, exactly, is what we were sent here for. All our troops have to do is hold the line... they can drop me in the middle of mexico, I take a dose... and its over. One girl's death is worth it."

Against the wall, William stepped forward, and settled his hand on Wayson's shoulder. "We might actually be able to help your odds in the aftermath. Would you happen to know your blood type?"