John Pierce finished his bagel, wiped his mouth, and stood up from the park bench. He looked around for a trashcan and ditched his wrapper.  Satisfied that he wasn't being watched, he crossed the street bordering the park and entered a store with a sign reading "Vang's Pawn and Jewelry."

Tu Vang sat behind the counter reading a Hmong-language newspaper.  He looked up and smiled at John.  "Johnnie! So good to see you!"

"How are you, T.V.?"

"Good, good.  You want to buy more Thai gold or you want diamonds?"

"Rubies, Tu, I want to see rubies."

"Come on back, Johnnie."

Tu led John through a wooden double-door, then unlocked the thick, heavily bolted metal door that followed.  He spoke a few words to a young woman in the jewelry storage area beyond, and she left to tend the counter.  John glanced over the gems and precious stones, amazed at the spectrum of crystalline beauty that sparkled and flowed along the storage shelves, equally amazed at how ample Tu's inventory was considering his store seemed so small from the front.  He knew Tu worked very hard to be helpful to the police and was meticulous about stolen goods.  It made it so much easier for him to broker information and such.

"So, Johnnie, what sort of job do you want?"

"Nothing for me this time, Tu.  I'm acting as agent for another businessman."

"Ah, the man who made such a dramatic exit at the Crane Research compound."

John knew the reaction didn't show on his face, but Tu chuckled anyway.  "Come on, Johnnie, you only broker for one man.  It would be so much easier if you just let me deal with him directly."

"What?  And lose my cut?  What good is that to me, Tu?"

"You would still get all of those special courier jobs..."

"Forget it, Tu.  Just look for a job for my guy.  He wants something quiet. And no drugs."

"Whatever you say, Johnnie.  I may have something soon.  I'll pay the usual way."

"Don't forget my ten percent."

"Johnnie!  You are my friend! I 'd only cheat you if you were family."

The two spent a few minutes talking about inconsequentials before John left.

Conduit slid across the roof of a brownstone, alert for any threat.  Squatting on the edge of the building, he paused and looked over the low wall bordering the top of the neighboring Chinese restaurant.  Across the narrow alley was another three-storey building: the first floor was a laundry complex; tenement suites were along the second floor; and then, on the third floor, was where he was going.  According to his contacts, this was the staging base for a group of Hong Kong arms smugglers.  And, in one of his favorite types of job, he was to rob them.  It seemed they had stolen a prototype for a British anti-missile logic system.  He was supposed to steal it and give it to another guy.  He liked robbing thieves because the cops never got called.

After a few more minutes of maneuvering, Conduit was clinging to the wall of the laundry level, preparing to make his move.  Inside he saw four men, all with AK-47s, sitting around a table with a metal briefcase on it.  According to his hire papers, the prototype was only about 10"x6"x4", so it was probably in the case.  As Conduit reached for a secure hold, he grabbed a rope.

Startled, he looked across. On the far side of the casement was another grappel rope, just like the one he was on.  Unlike his, it was the exact color of the wall and, looking up, he could make out where it was anchored to the outside wall. It was obviously not for coming in from above, so...

A brilliant flash from the room interrupted Conduit's train of thought.  He had been looking away and was spared, but a glance showed the gunmen inside reeling from the shock.  The door to the room was slammed open and a man dressed in black with an equipment harness rolled into the room, a silenced pistol in each hand.  In a few seconds the gunmen were dead, one shot each.

Duly impressed, Conduit watched as the man opened the case, examined the small box inside, and placed it in a small compartment hanging from his belt.  Conduit leaned back out of sight and waited.

A moment later the window slid open and the stranger leaned out, grabbing the other rope. Conduit reached out and grabbed the case from the man's belt. Startled, the stranger spun
awkwardly on the rope, reaching for one of his shoulder holsters.  Conduit looked him right in the eyes and let go.

Cradling the prototype, Conduit slammed into the pavement on his back.  He rolled to his feet as her felt his body absorb the kinetic energy of the impact, converting it, energizing every fibre of his being, augmenting his strength and scouring away any remnants of fatigue.  It was his turn to be surprised, however, when an energy bolt slammed into the alley where he had been a moment before.  At the mouth of the alley stood two men in bluish-grey metal armor, carrying large, high-tech rifles. Conduit dove behind a heavy garbage dumpster as one kept firing at him.  In a few moments he was joined by the stranger from the wall, who was drawing fire from the other man in armor.

Conduit looked at the man in black, who had both his pistols out again.  "Nice shooting up there."

"Thanks."  The man popped up and fired off two rounds at the men in armor, then ducked back.

"You a freelancer, or do you work for someone?"

"I'm with British Intelligence."  He squeezed of two more rounds, dropped, and looked at Conduit.  "Are you going to make yourself useful?"

"Well, since your .22s don't seem to have enough juice to penetrate their armor, I was considering making a break for it."

"You'd never make it."

"Yeah, but they're making quick work out of our only cover, so I don't have much choice. Maybe you could cover me?"

The agent swapped clips on one of the pistols and looked at Conduit.  "Why not? You're only a thief."

"Thanks. You're a pal."

Conduit waited until the timing was all wrong and stood to run.  He was immediately shot in the back, crying out in pain and spinning to face the shooters.  Damn! he thought That really hurt! Some of that got thruh--

Another shot, this one to the chest, flattened him.  He could feel the burn and the bleeding where the impact had been a bit too much for his powers to fully absorb.  He could also feel the converted energy of the lasers surging through his muscles.  Trying to be patient, he played dead as best he could.  A moment later, he felt someone grab his ankle.  Sneaking a look as his head
rolled limply, he saw the agent trying to pull him back to the cover of the partially melted dumpster. Conduit was about to simply roll over himself when a red blast caught the agent in the shoulder. Silently, the agent collapsed over Conduit's legs.

After a brief pause, the two men in armor moved in and stood over Conduit and the agent.

"Hurry and grab the module, the cops will be here soon."

"Relax, cherry. Our people will keep the cops busy for at least five more minutes."

The rooky kicked the agent in the head.  "Think he's a mutie?"

"Nah, just a criminal, or a pawn of the mutie-loving government.  Either way, I say we finish them off as soon as we have the module."  He bent to search the agent.

The rooky chuckled a little. "Did you hear this one: 'what's the best thing about a dead mutie?'"

Conduit raised his arm and fired an energy bolt right into the rookie's faceplate, slamming him into a nearby wall. As the other tried to bring his weapon to bear, he froze with Conduit's fist, still smoking from his first blast, under his chin. Conduit glared at the shooter. "Do you know the best thing about a dead mutie?"

"N-N-No."

"Well, what good are you, then?"

Conduit's second blast tore the helmet off the shooter and slammed him into the dumpster.

Conduit turned to see the British agent.  He rolled him over, checking to make sure he was aliv -- and he was.  Conduit discovered a first-aid kit in one the compartments along the agent's combat harness.  And as he gaused the agent's wounds, he felt a case in the man's shirt.  It was the prototype.

"You bastard!' Conduit exclaimed. "You stole it back!"

Staching the prototype in his own harness, Conduit checked the shooters. Their armor had kept them alive, but he doubted either would be going dancing anytime soon. He stripped the power cell magazines from their rifles and hurled them away before taking his leave.

Two days later John was sitting in his apartment eating smores and reading the paper, while Casablanca played on the TV.  The shoot-out in Chinatown was being reported as a drug-related altercation between rival Asian gangs.

Shrugging to himself, John turned his attention to the movie while his mind wandered.  Whoever the mutant-haters were, they were well equipped and had connections. And they would probably hold a grudge. And he was very concerned about being on the wrong end of the tea-and-crumpet-loving agents at MI6.  He resolved not to do any jobs in England for a while.

He did owe that agent, however; even though he knew Conduit was a thief, the agent had risked his own life trying to save metahuman courier.

But it wasn't like Conduit left him to fend for his unconscious self in the alley.  Conduit had lurked in the area and followed the ambulance that took the agent away.  It was easy to find out which room he had been sent to before he was awake.  John just hoped the agent appreciated the fruit basket.

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