The X-Project

Kyle, Arthur and America meet Gabe at a boxing event and chat up the boss's daughter.

The details on the invite card had been cryptic. It appeared to be some sort of pop-up boxing match and the coordinates took attendees to an occupied manufacturing warehouse in Queens, with several parking lot lights flickering dimly above it. Compared to the rest of the neighborhood, this building was a dark hole that discouraged joggers, dog walkers and anyone else to take an alternate route away from the building. After this many generations of practice, they knew how to keep their invite-only event just that.

Inside the building a makeshift ring was constructed with metal street barriers, a few chairs pulled from the break rooms for VIPs. A mix of businessmen in suits, folks in jeans and motorcycle gear, and hot shots with new tattoos rounded out the audience. Near the ring, a brunette woman in leather pants and a sequined top was having a friendly chat with two men in dark suits, an older man chewing the end of a cigar, and a man in a brightly colored suit holding a portable PA system.

At the door, a big man who looked like he could have also been one of the boxers vetted folks at the door. “You got an invite?”

"I totes do, my man." Kyle held up his phone, and showed the text from the random number that he had been sent. "You know Gustaf? Lizardy guy, he said he'd vouch for me. Good guy, but yo, I kinda hate fighting him, because pretty sure he's made of snakes. Not like, the guy is a snake, I mean I think he has snakes inside him, he's like fighting a bag of scaly slinkies."

America half-tackled Kyle from behind, locking his head under her arm so she could rub her knuckles against his crown. "I think he gets the point, Blanquito."

This gained the attention from another passing blonde, who got to merely pass the bouncer with a nod. Apparently he was on a list, or in the know, or... well, his million dollar smile was a bit of a giveaway, along with the glint of light that reflected suspiciously from one eye. He patted the bouncer on the shoulder as he passed, trading a pleasantry before stopping with an excited expression.

"Hey, roomie? Is that you? Crazy!"

"Dude." Kyle greeted Arthur, holding out his fist for a bump. "Arthur, have you met America? Amazon, super strong? I got her to bench me, it was great." Kyle was clearly riding high on the couple of beers he'd had before even arriving, and had a genuine grin on his face. "'merica, Arthur, Arthur, America Chavez. She's from a dimension of all women, which is some serious Wonder Woman stuff. Cool, right? Dude. Are you like, here to watch or here to punch?"

Gabriel quietly slid past Arthur, nodding in greeting to him and moving away from the group. He wasn't here to socialize.

He'd been told about this boxing night from an overly butch ex-cop he'd met at a leather night at a bar years ago. There hadn't been any chemistry — and Gabriel would never have hooked up with law enforcement — but Gabriel liked how different the other man was, and they kept in touch. He knew that the boys in blue liked a boxing night, and he'd never had the taste for it before.

But when he and Kevin had beaten the shit out of some small-minded idiots, Gabriel had liked the release. And so when his buddy mentioned this, Gabriel decided he wanted to check it out, and see about getting into the ring. Still, he felt out of place, as he stood with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, scanning the room to get a feel for the types of people that high-tailed it to a part of Queens for something like this.

His eyes landed on the woman in sequins — of all things! — and he watched her coolly, trying to gauge her role in all this, and whether he should approach her.

She greeted people as they passed, as equally friendly with the men in boxing regalia as she was with the older folks who came up to greet her father. As one boxer left, one of the men in suits sighed and leaned in behind her. "Sarah, I wish you would put your coat back on. I don't like the way he was staring at you."

She clenched her fists at her sides, but only momentarily before she took a breath and regained her composure. She turned. "Sebastian, you are my half-brother so I am going to try my best to be nice about this. I am an adult and probably more capable than most of the men in here." She smiled sweetly and lowered her voice, leaning in. "And if you continue to try to talk to me like I am a helpless child, I will drag you into that ring by your hair and we will see who can take care of themselves. Are we clear?"

Gabriel, eavesdropping, decided he liked this woman. The older man strode away, and so he figured this was an in. "Sorry to interrupt," he said as he approached her, a little nervous given her apparent demeanor. "I'm — you're clearly in charge here in some way," he addressed her, ignoring the suited man near her because he sensed it would play better. "What's a guy got to do to get in the ring?"

As if she had flipped a switch, Sarah's face brightened and her body language opened up as she looked him over. "Finally someone here has some sense," she laughed, "though, if you really want to know who's in charge it's my Dad over there. We've run this place for generations." She had made this pitch a hundred times before. Leaning in, she smiled like they shared a secret. "I have his ear though, if you really want to fight. Let's start with you telling me your name and who you're here with?"

"He's with us!" Kyle waved, big grin and arm in the air. "I mean, probably." He glanced at Gabe, and shrugged. "Badass lady I don't know, this is Gabe, who is cool, America, who is also a badass and Arthur, who is pretty badass too and has a cute dog." Somehow Kyle had managed to get another beer. "How do we get into the ring? I mean I know he asked that, but. Valid question."

Sarah tapped Kyle's shoulder gently and the touch felt more solid than expected. "First, you don't get into the ring tonight because you're drinking and we aren't in the business of hosting bar brawls." She smiled, and tapped her own chest. "Second, I'm Sarah, though 'badass lady' is potentially the most fun thing I have been referred to this week. And third," she turned back to Gabe, slickly handing him a card with a phone number on it from her pocket, "you put yourself in the pool, and we put you on the fight schedule. You get your winnings in cash. If you're good, you can quit your day job."

"Don't expect that'll happen, but good to know." Gabriel was unable to help but raise an eyebrow at being handed an actual business card, but he eyed it. "A pleasure to meet you, Sarah, I'm sure." he said, pocketing her card. "Looking forward to seeing what your boxers have to offer." It sounded lame, but it was true.

Arthur, softly, nudged Kyle at this. America was close enough to be privy to the whisper. "Are we here to support Gabe? Your text was vague, but I'll stan him through whatever character growth this whole thing is. Are we team Gabriel tonight?"

"We are now, cause I'm too drunk to fight." Kyle answered, just as quiet. "Which, I mean, I guess." He grumbled.

"It's fair, anyone can lie about healing factors and weird metabolisms." America tried to be subtle, watching Gabe. He didn't seem well.

While they were talking, two makeshift spotlights which had been illuminating the boxing ring were suddenly switched off and the warehouse lights flickered back on. The suited man from earlier returned to speak to Sarah quietly. "We've gotten a call," he said.

Sarah nodded in understanding. "Take my car and get Pops out. Keys are in the console." She turned back to the group and started speaking with an air of calm that suggested this had all happened before. "Did you all drive? We're going to need to make a quick exit."

Arthur, a bit blinky-eyed, looked toward Kyle and Gabe, "Friends, was this a dinner theater invitation? I had the distinct impression this was one of those MMA-deals with a lot of flexing and clapping."

He shrugged. "I took the train from Westchester. Met some great people."

"Uh—" Gabriel eyed Arthur a bit curiously, weighing whether to ask a follow-up, but Sarah's general demeanor suggested otherwise. "We've got wheels. Plenty of room, too." He regarded her expression as he spoke, and, unable to help himself, added: "Why?"

"Because the cops are on their way," she said matter of factly, taking a leather jacket from one of the suited men giving directions to the crowd. The makeshift ring was quickly being gathered and thrown into bins for removal. "And if you will trust me, we will all make it home tonight without an arrest record. Or a further arrest record. I don't judge." She gestured towards the exit. "Parking lot is right in front of us. We'll need to move quickly."

"Fucking hell." Kyle shook himself once, and his loose, tipsy demeanor shifted as he followed Sarah. "I drove but I'm too loose to drive back for another half hour." He pulled his keys and jangled them. "Gabe's right. I got plenty of room, and my car is dead boring." The Volvo logo on the key spoke that as much as his words.

"Perfect. I'll drive." She eyed the nondescript car in the lot and hoped it drove better than it looked. "I can get us out of the neighborhood and off their radar. By the time you're sober," she smiled at Kyle and took the keys, "you can take over and I'll call a cab to take me the rest of the way home."

"Instead of all of that, I'm still sober and a professionally qualified driver," offered the other blonde guy in the party with a shrug. Arthur did not specifically note what kind of driver, but instead plowed ahead while holding out a hand for the keys. "Way less complicated if these folks know who you are already. Plus, I'm feeling lucky."

Sarah eyed him, and reluctantly handed over the keys. "Who am I to argue with luck?" She didn't sound convinced, but it wouldn't really matter. If Sarah got picked up, there were enough cops that owed her Dad that she would be out before anybody knew she was there. She handed the keys to Arthur and waved her arm towards the car.

"We have to go now. Everybody in the car!"




The car was crowded, and Sarah didn't like being someone else's passenger.

She tried to make the best of an uncomfortable situation by giving directions from the passenger seat, whether they wanted the help or not. As they drove out of the vicinity of the warehouse, police lights flickered on behind them. Sarah cursed quietly, and inventively, and looked at Arthur. "Do not stop this car."

Kyle leaned up a little from the back seat. "Told you. Boring car, sick engine." He grinned, full of adrenaline and beer. "The boring's supposed to keep us from getting pulled over in the first place though. Idea is, nobody believes the dead boring volvo wagon can pull one-twenty."

"I still don't really believe it," Gabriel muttered. He turned over his shoulder to try and get a sense of how far behind them the cop car was. "Not for nothing," he said, sotto voce because he wasn't sure whether they could trust Sarah or not, "if they catch up, I'm hightailing it the fuck out of here."

America nudged Gabriel. "Watch your bony elbows, ijos." She leaned closer to Arthur. "Let's go faster!" She was definitely having the time of her life.

"One-twenty? Kyle, my man, you should have led with that." Arthur's face, illuminated by the boring dash, broke into a fierce grin. It was a delicate balance managing the plasticy ergonomics of a Subaru, a horse not exactly designed for speed no matter what laid under the hood. The blonde man didn't let this fact stop him, however, as he hit the gas hard.

"Sarah. Can I call you Sarah?" This was almost casual as the man hit a turn sharply through a red light. Several other cars screeched behind them in protest in the wake of a suddenly upturned intersection. "I used to do this for a living."

His eyes were glowing now, face lit by his own lucky light, as he popped onto a curb to bypass some traffic piled up in front of them. By this point he had graduated from loosely following Sarah's directions to just shaking their tails.

Dramatically.

Oddly, though, there were no sounds of squealing metal from collisions or car wrecks.

"Where are we going?"

"There's a garage on Austin. If we can get there, the staff will cover for us. But I need you to listen to my directions, there's neighborhoods over here we definitely don't--shit!" She yelped and put a hand up against the dash to steady herself as the car unexpectedly took a turn. "Turn left!"

Kyle grunted as the car went left and he had the combined weight of America Chavez and Gabriel Cohuelo slide into him. "I suddenly understand people who get car sick..." He groaned. "I want pancakes after this."

Gabriel snorted as he tried to slide toward the other side of the car. "You're supposed to stare at a spot at the horizon, which is easier to do when—" He braced himself on the car door as Arthur made an abrupt lane change. "Well, you know."

For his part, Arthur turned his head completely to focus all of his attention on Sarah. "I am listening to only you. Lay it on me."

Now, this was still paired with an extremely sympathetic smile, but the fact that his eyes were most certainly glowing full tilt certainly made it eerie. Or the fact that he was also, right now, accomplishing a perfect 360 degree slide into a multi-lane road across a full lane of traffic. With his eyes half-locked on Sarah and most definitely not on the road.

His smile never broke as they straightened out and the tension ebbed. "Tell me where to go and we're there."

Sarah stared at him, and silently reminded herself that punching the getaway driver was a bad idea. Still, she squeezed her fingers into fists and winced when her now very bony fingers cut her palms. Fantastic. "Look, I don't know if you think you're being cute or what but keep your fucking eyes on the road or I will push you out of this fucking car and not feel bad about it." The cell phone in her pocket rang and she answered it quickly. "Is Dad safe?" She listened for a moment, shook her head and sighed in frustration. "I'll be in touch."

"The garage is out. They got raided and there's cops everywhere." Sarah opened the window and threw her phone into the street with a growl. "They knew where we would go next."

Gabriel watched Sarah's phone break into pieces as it hit the asphalt. "I don't think..." He leaned forward toward the space between the driver's and passenger's seat, poking his head slightly between the gap. He looked toward Sarah and recoiled ever-so-slightly as he caught sight of her hands. He tried not to show his surprise to see the growths on her fingers, but he couldn't help but stare. It was as if her skin had shredded, and —

"District X," he said, finally looking up to her. "There's a good chance he'll outrun them," he nodded toward Arthur, "but even so, you'll need a place to stash the car. I've got one."

"You would have to ask your friend if he's comfortable leaving his car in this... District X, was it?" She gestured at Kyle, not acknowledging the shock of the more visible parts of her mutation. "Besides, how do you know there's no police there? This is obviously more than just an illegal boxing raid."

She shrugged off an arm of her jacket, revealing the round end of a bone broken through at the top of her shoulder. "And I'm not exactly inconspicuous."

"I'm good." Kyle said, with a shrug. "Car's been in the DX before, I do some teaching at the local middle school sometimes." He leaned back into the seat, trying to ignore the nausea from Arthur's sharp turns. "There's a hoodie in the back end, and my snowboarding gear, so uh, gloves, snow pants... might be sweats and a t-shirt in there too."

"I would rather not ruin your stuff if I can help it," she sounded resigned, and more than a little shocked. All her life they had done these events, and it had never ended like this. Sebastian had gotten their father to safety, but the loss of the garage safehouse meant the family lawyers would be busy this weekend. She wasn't entirely convinced she wouldn't need one of them.

"If you think District X is safe, let's go."

"District X it is," chimed Arthur as he turned toward that direction. A cursory check of the rear view mirrors signaled a distinct lack of pursuit, finally. Looks were starting to look up. "The DX is homebase for most of the car even if we need to play it by ear."

"Well," she settled back into her seat, wondering if tossing the phone was the right call now that she was heading to an unfamiliar part of town with people she didn't know. She knew it was, but it was very isolating knowing that someone wasn't only a phone call away. "It sounds like you all know what you're doing. On the way, maybe you can fill me in on where we're going and why you all know you can hide a car there."


Tomorrow morning, Sarah gets an offer she can't refuse.

It wasn't the most luxurious guest room, the furniture still with the recently unboxed and assembled smell and sheets that had come right out of the plastic and never slept on. Still, it had been quiet and the one who set her up - Gabriel - had promised she could stay as late as she wanted.

The rest of the floor was just a couple of hallways filled with closed and locked doors, and in front of the elevator was a small kitchen and sitting area. There was no one there when she had originally come in, but now as she left the room, the smell of fresh brewed coffee hung in the air and a man in a sat at a table, reading a copy of the New York Times.

As she moved quietly down the hallway, the place reminded Sarah of a hospital. Clean. Nondescript. Maybe too nondescript.

She still felt dazed from the revelation that not only had they been thrown under the bus, but that she also couldn't go home until after everything settled. She wasn't staring at the wall anymore, but clearly part of her was still teasing out the puzzle, trying to figure out if there was a way out of this mess. She was exhausted. Bone erupted from her skin along her hairline, down her neck and presumably more below the hem of her shirt.

She walked into the kitchen and opened a cabinet identified as cups during her earlier "tour". After a moment of silence, she sighed and turned to the man at the table. "I'm sorry, can you point me to a mug that isn't someone's special favorite mug? I'm trying not to piss anyone else off in the next 24 hours and a lot of these look like personal mugs."

"No clue. I don't pay attention to mug preference. I promise I won't tell if you use someone else's."

"Well that's a relief," she shrugged, grabbing a mug that looked mostly generic and filling it with coffee, "Most of the folks I know will cut you if you take their "World's Best Grandpa" mug."

"We try to encourage them to not get too attached to specific things. That way, they only cut people when they have either a good reason or orders to do so." He said, turning a page in his paper. "So, you sleep alright?"

"Not really, but that's not your fault." She leaned back against the counter and sipped from the mug. It was too hot and not the greatest coffee she had ever tasted, but it was still a comfort. "I'm not used to being away from my family for this long."

"You might need to get used to it. Police have issued warrants for your father and brother and you are officially wanted for questioning." He said mildly. "We did some checking around. Looks like it was the Karnelli family that dropped the dime on your father's fight club. Rumour is that your aunt Margaret hooked up with them and this is either payback for being forced out or just good business by removing the competition. Either way, all of you should be laying low or if not, lawyering up."

Sarah realized she was clenching the mug so forcefully she might break it and set it down gently on the counter. Her hands shook ever so slightly. "I wish I could say that I was surprised, but she's been upset at us for so long I am surprised it hasn't happened sooner. Luckily, my father has good lawyers--if they're still loyal."

"This was an attack of opportunity. If they'd caught any of you at the club, there'd be a case. Otherwise, I doubt whatever juice they have lasts more than a few weeks before it's too expensive to be worth keeping it up." He turned the edge of the paper down and looked at her over top of it. "You got a safe bolthole that isn't connected to you?"

"Any other time I would go to another family that's friendly. But if one's already been flipped, I don't know who I trust not to turn me in to get on Margaret's good side." She picked up the mug again, took another sip of coffee. "Fuck."

""Sounds like an apt summary. I might have a solution." Kevin said. "We have an... interest in keeping eyes on the Maggia. If you're willing to consult, review some info, talk to some of my people, I have a place out of town you can stay for a few weeks. Real swanky, free meals..."

"We don't do a lot of direct business with the Maggia that I know of," she shrugged, and thought some more about any dealings she might have with the Family, "but a couple of them come to the fights and they get talkative when they're drinking."

"So you give us the gossip, and we can even throw in a retainer for your trouble. Interested?"

She wasn't sure she had any other choice that didn't end up with her taken in police custody, but she had to make them understand what they were asking.

"Sure, but they can't know it was me. It has to be able to be tracked back to bragging in public, or I will never be able to go home again. And my father has an even bigger target on him. My Aunt and Brother too, probably."

"I don't expect you to drop a dime on your family. Other families for the most part." He took out his phone and tapped for a minute. "I'll have a car downstairs in twenty, and a room set for you." He gave her a perfect smile. "Welcome to our world, Sarah. I hope you survive the experience."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and finished her coffee. "Huh. Usually the question is whether other people will survive me. Good luck to all of us, I guess."