* * * * *

Captain Summers had gone ahead, into the depths of the Genoshan prison house to oversee preparations for their trap. Once word got out that Ebonwing was being incarcerated pending further investigation, there was little doubt Telfair would come for him. Alex was determined to be ready.

Having discussed at length each one's role in the plan, Professor Xavier, Negrehr Ebonwing, and a single Acolyte made their way from the interrogation room. All the while Xavier remained in constant psychic contact with his former student.

We're nearly done here, Professor, said Alex. I have four men en route to lead you down to cellblock 12. When Telfair makes his move we'll have him.

And God willing, thought the Professor, we'll be one step closer to unmasking the real power behind this threat.

The building seemed unnaturally quiet as the trio progressed, the low hum of the Professor's hover chair echoing softly off the concrete walls.

Ah, I sense your men approaching now. I ... wait ... Alex, how many guards were you sending?

Four, Alex said. Is something wrong?

The sound of distant footsteps from the adjoining hall grew louder behind them.

I'm not sure, lad, the Professor replied. I only detect three sets of brainwaves.

Moments later four Genoshan soldiers dressed in heavy combat gear rounded the corner behind them.

No, all four are here... But I can still only sense... oh no.

"All Acolytes! Converge on Professor Xavier's location NOW!" Alex shouted, broadcasting on all channels via his com-link.

Three of the newly arrived soldiers looked down at their com-links in confusion. The fourth seized upon that brief moment of distraction and delivered a devastating roundhouse kick to the closest man, sending him sprawling back into his fellow soldiers. As the rogue soldier quickly advanced on Ebonwing and the Professor, the Acolyte charged with their protection sprung forward, lunging with a fist that had suddenly become a giant slab of solid granite.

In one fluid motion the rogue caught his attacker's stony arm and pivoted, sending the would-be defender stumbling harmlessly past, then pulled a combat knife from his belt and buried it deep in the back of Negrehr Ebonwing's neck with a sickening 'squich'.

Xavier looked on in horror as the man's eyes went wide and his body stiffened. "You weren't supposed to be able to find me, Professor," said the soldier.

"Telfair," Xavier said. Though the soldier's smooth countenance bore little resemblance to the records he'd seen of Marcus Telfair's hideous face, there could be no doubt that somehow it was him.

A moment later Ebonwing's features relaxed as he turned to face his attacker. "That would have really hurt if I had nerves there," the winged figure said, his body suddenly melting and shifting form. Where once stood a blue skinned diplomat was instead a thin, hairless young man in an Acolyte uniform.

"They call me Plasm," the Acolyte said as his opponent lashed out, only to find his fist buried forearm-deep in the other's malleable form. "Can you guess why?

"Now be a nice assassin and hold still," he said. As Plasm expanded his body outward, rapidly creeping up his adversary's arm, Telfair pulled out a semi-automatic and let loose with a hurried spray of gunfire.

While most of the bullets were harmlessly swallowed by the Acolyte's gelatin-like body, the others continued unabated down the corridor. In desperation Charles Xavier toppled his hover chair onto its side, his shoulder crashing hard against the floor as the heavy mechanisms in the chair's undercarriage bore the brunt of the stray bullets.

Telfair struggled in vain as Plasm continued to surround him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the other soldiers had recovered and were advancing with guns drawn, the stone-fisted Acolyte leading the charge. Plasm's form was growing more solid as it encased the mercenary and he pushed hard against his captor, his hand moving inch-by-inch towards the bandolier on his chest. The others were nearly upon him. Tearing a concussion grenade from his bandolier, Telfair gave it a desperate heave.

The resulting explosion of light and sound sent a shockwave of concussive force tearing through the hall in all directions. The lead Acolyte bore the brunt of the blast with his rocky form, but all four men were sent hurtling backward. The Professor's hover chair scraped noisily against the floor, a grating whine of metal on stone as the shockwave shoved it sideways.

Plasm absorbed the worst of the shockwave as he and his captive were sent tumbling violently forward. Marcus Telfair staggered to his feet as the metamorph's unconscious form slowly sloughed off, gathering in a sludge-like mass beneath him. He tightened his grip on his gun and advanced towards the upended Professor Xavier.

Charles Xavier looked up at the approaching mercenary. With each step his likeness flickered and shifted back and forth, Genoshan soldier one moment, battle-scarred mercenary the next. His horrifically torn, lop-sided grin was gone and then reappeared in rapid succession, like an x-ray flickering over his already grim visage. Even as his image inducer sputtered and malfunctioned, a thin band of metal lined with tiny circuits sat atop Telfair's brow and Xavier understood at last - it was a psychic shield, protecting him from those with telepathic abilities.

Telfair stood over the Professor's prostrate form and lowered his gun. "Cute decoy," he said. "I guess the time for skulking about is finally over."

Suddenly, a burst of white-hot plasma tore through the mercenary's weapon, reducing it to ash and nothingness. A guttural scream tore at Telfair's vocal chords as his hand was left a dark, smoldering husk.

"It's over, Marcus," said a voice from up ahead.

The mercenary looked up astonished. Havok stood at the hall's entrance, his clenched fist still pulsing with concentric rings of ambient cosmic energy. Flanking him was a battalion of Acolytes, each one tensed and ready to strike at their Captain's order.

Telfair cradled his arm in pain and sneered at the assembly of mutants before him. "It's never over." His eyes moved rapidly about the corridor, searching for some advantage. "Not until you're all in the ground."

"Hands up and step away from the Professor," said Havok.

Telfair took a step back, but kept his arms low. He eyes settled at last on something nearby.

"Hands up," the Acolyte Captain repeated, his look grim and determined.

"We've got him, sir," said a pair of Acolytes at his side, producing a heavy set of manacles and taking a step forward.

Telfair took another step closer to what he was eying and slowly began to raise his ruined arm.

"Both hands, Telfair," Havok said, noticing the man's line of site. "Now." Three heavy firearms - dropped by the soldiers struck down by Telfair's concussion grenade - lay on the floor nearby.

He wouldn't, Alex thought. The two men looked at each other and Telfair smiled. The mercenary's muscles tensed.

A split second later, Telfair lunged. Yet as Havok unleashed his plasma blasts, turning the nearby guns to slag before his opponent could get there, Telfair stopped before barely half a step and turned - his feint had bought him the precious seconds he needed. With his good hand the mercenary pulled a flash grenade from his bandolier and hurled it towards the approaching Acolytes as he spun.

Behind him, the hall erupted in a blinding flash of light. Startled cries and angry voices filled the air as Telfair made a mad dash for the nearest adjoining corridor. Gunfire and energy beams streaked blindly past him. Something hot pierced the back of his shoulder as he stumbled around the corner.

Everything was fireworks and flashes and smears of light, but Alex could hear his men firing. "Everyone hold!" he yelled. "We have men down in this hall! Hold your fire!"

Alex stumbled forward as his vision began to slowly clear. There was no sign of Telfair as he turned to his men. "He can't be far. Everyone spread out and I want com channels open at all times! Go! Go!"

A young Asian Acolyte with bright white hair stepped forward. "Don't worry, sir" she said, her slender body changing into that of a white wolf. "I've got his scent. We won't lose him."

As the Acolytes poured into the corridors ahead, Alex knelt down beside his former mentor and pulled him from his overturned chair. "Are you okay, Charles?" he asked, helping him to sit up. "I can have a medic here in less than a minute."

"I'll be alright," Xavier replied. "Thanks to you. I'm just... slightly disoriented."

"I can imagine," Alex said.

"Captain Summers, this is Commander Ray," said a voice from his com-link. "We've got Telfair's trail, sir. He's moving through the north wing."

"The north wing? There's not much up there," Alex said.

"No, sir. Mostly offices and storage. He's probably running blind."

"Doubtful, Commander," Alex ordered. "Not Telfair. He wants something. All units, converge on the north wing."