Trevor Turner threo the prono he'd been glancing at a top the pile on his coffee table. It knocked over several empty beer cans as it slipped down to the filthy carpet. He rose from his polluted easy chair, lit another cigarette and paced to the window. Well, paced as well as he was able through the stagnant heap of moldy chinese take-out, clothes and various other discards from something he liked to call "mood enhancers".

He was being watched, he could feel it. The only question was, by who? The company Cyborgs would have attacked by now, so it was either hired help or the kids themselves. He couldn't imagine who'd be worse. A passing car threw unwelcomed light into the slum apartment he hid in.

"Damn, I gotta get out o' this. I'm goin' nuts!" He didn't expect an answer. He jumped as he got one anyway.

"Need any help with your travel arangements?" He spun around at the sardonic voice to see her idolently leaning against his wall. She was so beautiful. Deadly so, he reminded himself as a silver thread delicately rose and parted the skin on the back of her hand. She tapped the claw against her lips, like a mother shushing a child. He started to tremble in panic.

"I only came up with one part,"he began rambling, "one aspect of the formula that accomplished the, the the tr-tr-transformations. I swear, I had no idea what it was he was gonna do. I swear! PLEase, don't kill me, I'm a worthless piece of ..."

He nearly had a heart attack as a hand clamped itself over his babbling mouth. He twisted until he saw glowing ruby eyes watch the girl in front of him sniff the air. The rest of them were here. Oh God, he was so dead.

"The rescue squad is outside. I can smell shortie's cigar from here. We gotta move."

"How did they find us so fast?" The ruby eyes grew voice and asked.

"Who knows, who cares. Let's get what we came for and leave." She inched closer to Turner, her breath tickling his nose.

"Make things easy for us and live." He nodded his assent, not noticing how dangerously low her voice was. "Who hired you?" In the silence, the hum of the air exchanger could have been mistaken for a tornado.

He was never quite sure exactly what happened next. It seemed the walls exploded inward as his apartment was demolished the most horrific of battles in his terrified life. He was thrown roughly to floor as a small army of Cyborgs overwhelmed his 'companions'. From under his coffee table, he saw Darcy's fire destroy two, Chuck's discus throw one twenty feet in each direction and Magg's claws become of blurr of silver lightning as she fought off the attackers with a singular intensity.

Joel and Frizz seemed to be working in concert as 'borg bodies started flying around what remained of his living room. For all their valiant efforts, Turner knew if a second set of claws, ice beside the fire, glowing playing cards by glimmering CD's, a flying red head next to a blonde and psionic blades joining the discus, his young captors would have been dead, or far worse, re-captured. The heated battle, as it was, lasted nearly thirty minutes longer. He was uncerimonously hauled to his feet as they did a head count. They came up one short.

"Maggs!" Joel cried in anguish. "She was fighting beside me just a few minutes ago. She couldn't have been..." A quick search determined her body was not among the carnage.

"Hey Claws!" Frizz yelled her pet name for their leader. The only true friend she'd found in a long while.

"Maddy!" That ought to bring the girl running, thought Darcy. She hates that name.

*Maggs!!!* Chuck began to weep softly as she found no response to her mental shout.

"I can't find her! Psylock, do a scan. Bobby, Rogue, Darcy, and Joel, do an aerial and see if you can find her trail. Gambit, Frizz and Chuck better stay here with our guest; if we can't find Maggs, we're gonna need him." From the tone of the short man's voice, Trevor Turner feverntly hoped that Maggs showed up. Suddenly, from the four anguished and unmoving forms, a heart wrenching cry erupted from their throats.

"MAGDELINE!!!!"

The professor marveled at the fierce devotion displayed for their leader. It rivalled his own x-men's for him. This young powerhouse of mutant strength would never allow Xavier to train them for his dream, or even convince them of its validity without Maggs. And then there was Logan's instant identifcation to a young woman who apparently had suffered much the same torturous transformation as he had. He needed to find out for certain what exactly had happened to these children in order to help them all. The sooner the better. Oh well, on to the task at hand.

"Mr. Turner, let's begin with..."

"Quentin Industries."

"I beg your pardon?"

The professor seemed concerned. Perhaps the man was suffering from too much excitement. "I realize this must have been an upseting night for you..."

"Quentin Industries."

"What is Quentin Industries?"

"Where I worked."

"You worked?"

"For the man himself."

"The man?"

"Sir Charles Quentin."

"Who would be...?"

"He wanted the transformations. Wanted the girl back, she wasn't finished."

"Sir Quentin is a respected member of the British Parliament who is a great deal of help to us in the pro-mutant front..."

"He had her modelled after someone. Had them all modelled after some team. Wanted a private team of mutants all his own."

"He wanted a copy of the X-Men?" Logan's voice sounded astounded from the doorway. Ranged behing him were the members of Quentin's experiments. All hell bent on revenge and taking their leader back.

"Why isn't she finished?" Bobby asked, " She has the claws, the healing factor, what else is there?" Logan froze as the answer hit him.

"Her memories. He has to erase her memories." A collective gasp was heard behind him as he sprinted to the Blackbird, the new recruits hot on his trail.