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If there was one thing that Mohinder Suresh was good at, it was getting into trouble. He did it to himself, falling into patterns that placed him in dangerous situations and in league with dangerous people. Yes, he always meant well, chasing after research that would save mankind from and for itself, but the personal toll to himself and those around him tended to be extremely high. This time was no different. A distraction and a slip of a normally very careful hand left a jab through a double layered glove that had him throwing down his tools and heading to the sink to see if he had gotten through the skin. He had only torn off the latex when the first wave of dizziness hit.

Mohinder woke up over an hour later, sweat soaked and shivering on the floor of the lab. Nothing felt broken and for a little while, he forgot what had happened. He sat up slowly, pushed the hair back from his eyes, and glanced down at one blue hand and one skin-coloured palm. Memory rushed back to him and he leaped to his feet to call the company whose drug it was that he was testing and perfecting. There was just a dial tone and a friendly voice telling him that the number had been disconnected. He glanced up and the little red light that usually signaled he was being taped (standard procedure in this lab) was off. The door was unlocked and he shivered again, feeling something move through him.

He should be dead. The catalyst in the drug was enough to kill a man twice his size, the purest form of the component that would make the medicine work against the virus affecting evolved humans. No, he shouldn’t just be dead. He should have exploded all over these walls…and he did not.

The cell phone in his pocket didn’t have reception until he stepped, shaking, into the loading dock. He called the only person he knew might be able to help him. He hadn’t seen Bruce Banner in years. He’d become a consultant for the Avengers in the time since doing humanitarian work in Calcutta, or so the internet said, a frequent guest of Tony Stark of all people. Mohinder didn’t actually have Bruce’s number so he just called the Stark Relief Foundation, where Banner was supposed to be working. It took an hour for him to track down his old acquaintance from his time volunteering with Banner in the slums of Indian. “Doctor Banner? I don’t know if you remember me… My name is Mohinder Suresh. I interned briefly with you overseas?”

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It was good to have friends with genius level IQs, the ingenuity to create just about anything one needed, and access to everything. Bruce didn’t have to jump out of windows anymore, he could flee in style.

Mohinder hadn’t moved, though. He was sniffing the air, without really breathing in. Sensing was probably a much better word for it, eyes half lidded and body relaxed with his hands to his sides. “HYDRA.” He didn’t know how he knew it, but he could feel the vibrations they were making and traced them back like climbing stairs to get to the source. He could picture them. Three men, three women. No. Four men. One was transgendered. He could feel that side of the agent as the group moved towards them.

“I’ll handle it,” he said in his soft, accented voice ad while Bruce went one way, Mohinder went the other. The doors opened for him, swinging outward so hard that they broke off of their hinges. “I’ll pay for those,” he said, sounding more worried about property destruction then anything else right now.

"You'll handle- Mohinder-!" What was his life right now? He stood there in the hall, ready to run properly with Mohinder to somewhere they could be safe when the other said that of all things. He flinched at the sound of the doors breaking, causing a growl in the back of his mind as his heart raced. Not NOW. Stop it.

How? How did HYDRA get into this building? How the hell did HYDRA know- what were they after? A thousand thoughts spun through his mind before he called out, "call Stark, warn the others, let him know what's happening!" He couldn't leave Mohinder to get killed, he couldn't. Or... re-killed.

What was going on today??

But the HYDRA team was close, slowing down as they came to where they were fairly certain their target was, settling guns to their shoulders. Any potential targets would need to be taken alive, anyone else killed.

Though Mohinder wasn’t actively trying to ignore Bruce, he was doing his best not to be affected by the wishes of an old friend. He needed to make sure that they were safe, and the only way to do that was to meet the threat head on. Yes, some of this was because he always met threats head on, thinking he was more of a super hero than he actually was, but today it was because he knew exactly what he was doing.

The agents were fanned out through Tony’s living room at strategic points, all weapons pointing towards the lab and, beyond that, the Hulk cell. They knew where Mohinder was…and Mohinder knew where they were too. Not that it mattered now. They were all face to face.

The weapons leveled at him didn’t matter. As Bruce rushed out after the Indian, a rain of unused shells fell from the backs of clips, unspent. Anything in the chamber was pushed out too. Mohinder’s eyes were gold now, pure gold. “I think you should leave,” he said, voice still soft.

...How...? Bruce stopped at the doorway, suitcase thudding against his thick, unable to see his friend's eyes but seeing the shells the obvious confusion in the motions of the face-less HYDRA agents behind their masks. He watched as the well-train agents kept their guns level at Mohinder at first, but at those five simple words, their guns started to waver. They didn't lower completely, but they wavered in a way Bruce never would have expected.

One agent's hand started to go towards his or her belt and the strange device held there along side of several others - it looked like a throwing weapon, almost like a smaller, rounder silver grenade. Bruce's eyes went wide and his whole body tensed, enough that he felt the grip on the briefcase start to tighten more violently.

The agent with the thrown weapon suddenly collapsed as mohinder looked at him. Two of the others found themselves pulled towards the ceiling as if on fishing line, unable to right themselves or reach for any weapons not currently dropped on the ground. Another dodged behind a desk and the others retreated. "I told you that you should leave."

By that point, Tony Stark had remotely scrambled the Legion and was already on his way back to the Tower, wet swim trunks inside of cushioned air Iron Man armor. Not the most comfortable way to travel but he would be back within the hour, flying well under commercial and private air lanes.

He would not be in time to help any of this, but he didn't need to. Those agents who had hid or fled were caught by the Legion. The collapsed man was unconscious and so were the two floating up by the ceiling like helium filled balloons.

Mohinder turned. His nose was cascading blue-purple blood. "Are you all right?"

Bruce stared for another few seconds before letting out a breath. "No," he admitted, holding up a hand. "Pretty much nothing of what just happened was all right." He walked over towards Mohinder, concern in eyes that were faintly green. "You're bleeding, badly." Not that he had anything to clean it up with, and Tony would have a heart attack over the stains, but he didn't care about the latter right now.

"...we need to figure out what is going on and... do something with them." Glancing past the other towards the unconscious man and those stuck to the ceiling. "How... How did you do any of this?" He adjusted his glasses slightly, but everything remained impossibly the same. "The only people I've ever heard of being able to do anything like this... were mutants. Inhumans. Whatever PC name they are being called right now by the half-dozen or so people who have any clue."

Mohinder didn’t feel poorly. He touched his nose, fingers coming away with that almost black blood smeared on them and the fear returned to his eyes. “I don’t know. I just… I thought that if I asked—“ But there were people swimming on Stark’s living room ceiling. How did that happen? Shaking hands reached for a tissue in his pocket to press to his face and they allowed the Iron Legion to clean up the rest of the mess and they could retreat back into the lab. Mohinder was dripping inky blood as they went, but he felt the need to sit down, not because he was in pain, but because his fear response had kicked in strong.

His tongue was thick in his mouth as he allowed Bruce to tend to him or stick electrodes on him or whatever it was that Mohinder needed to go through to finish up testing or just to monitor his vitals as they were now.

“I think it must go back to… What I said. About human cerebral capacity. I’m using more of mine. Able to use more of mine. Instead of using technology to adapt, my brain is adapting to help me do what I wish… I think I can control matter. Or maybe just other people… Oh God, Doctor Banner, what have I done to myself? How could this have triggered a mutation? It’s a catalyst, it was never near the serum. I was never introduced physically to any of the trail runs!”

"You thought if you asked-" Bruce parroted, voice tightening in momentary shock before he closed his eyes and took a breath. "We need to figure out what's going on, because until we have some better idea of that, we won't be able to do anything about it."

Back to the lab they went, and this time, Bruce worked quickly to try and get as much information as he could together. He was grateful for the Legion in the sense that he didn't have to deal with those agents, but all of it made him incredibly anxious. The Other Guy sat right behind his eyes because of it, watching as they hooked Mohinder back up, trying to understand his changed body with science.

"I've been thinking on that," Bruce said quietly as he watched the latest scan, "and I wonder... if you were lied to. Maybe it wasn't just the catalyst. Otherwise, why did they run so quickly? Why not lock you up and let you explode, then continue on?"

Mohinder had been wondering the same thing and he watched Bruce diligently book him up for the next few tests. Mohinder wasn't even sure what they were measuring for. His baselines kept jumping to a point where it wasn't even possible to find out what his levels were. Still, due diligence and the scientific method was clear on how to proceed. It wasn't as if he was suffering.

"They were waiting for me to make a mistake?" No. They orchestrated it. "I passed out. I was feeling groggy-- Oh God, they drugged me to make me implant myself... Why me?" He was their head researcher. He was the one who had discovered the catalyst to begin with. His mind supplied the answer. "Clinical trials. I can't be the only one. My team... They might be out there as well."

Or dead. It would depend on the serum sample.

"I feel as if I must strongly consider retiring after this."

He tried. For everything he had been raised and brought up to believe in science and theory, he tried. However, it was all too quick before he realized that any machine he had on hand, calculated for humans or even himself, was capable of dealing with what Mohinder had become. Everything was carefully documented, but at the end, he wasn't sure if anything truly had been accomplished.

Mohinder's last words made Bruce give a sad sort of laugh, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Strongly consider retiring. ...I strongly considered retiring several times and even attempted to and somehow I kept getting drawn right back in. I get the feeling that given all of this? You will have the same problem and even more so? You and I both know... you want to understand this and what to do next with it."

"I don't think I have very much of a choice about the whole of it," Mohinder responded quietly, pulling off the electrodes from his skin because he knew that this was doing absolutely no good at all. "My brain is active but my heart is in cardiac arrest perpetually. I no longer need to breathe unless I care to talk. My blood is coagulating... Am I dead or alive? And if I am merely the experimental victim of a force I did not believe I formally aligned myself with, who? And why are they coming after me?"

That last question caused Mohinder to stand up and he lightly brushed a hand through the new growth of hair on his head. The curls did not catch his fingers at all and they seemed to almost flow over them.

"I am and have been placing you in the utmost danger, Doctor Banner. I'll return to the lab, perhaps there are clues there, but I can not include you further in this mess. I could not forgive myself if I lost another friend. I have lost so many already."

"No." That Bruce could and did sound firm on, looking over to Mohinder with a serious expression and almost pleading eyes. "You are standing in one of the most secure locations in the city, and even with what happened, I believe we won't be disturbed here. Someone must have tracked you here - and we need to figure out how they did so. Doing this alone isn't going to help anyone."

His voice softened, a hand gesturing slightly towards Mohinder. "You can't lose me. I don't want to go into details, so let's leave it at that. We need to understand something of what's happening here, and if you're alone, it gives them all that much more chance to capture you."

The problem was that Bruce didn't need to go into details. Mohinder had a horribly knowing look as he leaned forward to put a hand to the older man's shoulder. "I fear more that you will blame yourself if I trigger the one lurking behind your eyes and under your skin." He was not judging. He couldn't judge in this particular case. It would be hypocritical. "And I believe I can take care of myself."

People. Swimming on the ceiling.

"But you should come with me. I might need an anchor. My friends have long since left and I have no one to remind me of what i once was." He was already collecting his things. He bent to hand Bruce his brief case back.

Unfortunately, Bruce couldn't disagree with that - for the most part. Mohinder would feel the very faint flinch under his hand of someone no longer used to touch before Bruce's lips thinned and he said quietly, "Maybe you're right," Mohinder was right, "but I don't want to see you abandoned." If the irony didn't creep up on him, it still existed. How similar were his thoughts to Betty's as she stood by him despite the hell breaking loose around her, the danger the Other Guy put her in. Maybe it didn't show as strongly for him because unlike her, he couldn't so easily be killed.

"Let me pack a bag and I'll be going with you." And leave a note for Tony because he had a feeling the other man would have severe issues if he was suddenly gone after an attack by HYDRA.

Well yeah he'd have severe issues! Banner came to visit, had a party, left a mess and didn't even wait for him to get back?! Rude. That note would maybe keep the angry voice mails from Bruce's Stark Relief Fund phone down to a minimum. Maybe.

Bruce was given something of a shocked look from Mohinder. He was pretty sure that he could convince Bruce to stay but he found that he didn't want to. He needed some sort of reminder here that he was still human despite his lack of some vital signs and the addition and over abundance of others.

"All right. I won't leave without you," he promised, bending for a moment to gather up what had been dropped. He made sure that his laptop had been put away and that he took extra notebooks from one of the desks.

Maybe. Sigh.

You better keep that promise, Bruce thought briefly to himself, but nodded as he quickly left to do exactly what he said. He was used to living out of a single bag or nothing at all, so it almost felt like a luxury to take just a few minutes to gather some things together, almost like he was packing for a vacation (almost). Leaving a note for Tony was simple as well, though he tried not to think on the wording too long:

Tony,

An old friend needed help. Will return when able. Sorry about the blood stains. Thank you for getting the Legion to clean up. Don't worry about me.

He read it again and ended up just shaking his head, leaving it where he was fairly sure Tony would spot it before he returned to his lab, half expecting to not find Mohinder there.

Bruce would be pleasantly surprised to see Mohinder sitting on a stool with his back to the doors. His whole body gave off that subtle glow, under his clothing, that he looked almost as if he was surrounded by a halo. He was studying his hands with his bag on his lap, counting the hair follicles on his wrists. He could see each one. He could see how they grew from his skin and he knew how long they were burrowed beneath it.

When Bruce came in, he let out a breath he had been holding and stood.

"Thank you for not telling him where we're going," Mohinder said as if he knew the contents of the hastily scratched letter. "Or for mentioning my name. He should not be in danger. They'll come after me. I've taken the liberty of erasing the data you collected on me too." No reason letting it potentially fall into the wrong hands. "We shouldn't take a cab. The subway is much faster and more anonymous. Do you have everything?"

He almost sounded cheerful.

Frown. Bruce stared at Mohinder for several long seconds before letting out a breath slowly. "Mohinder." Quiet but firm, clearly not pleased. "I don't know how you're doing it, but stop. Stay out of my head. You are going to have to learn some new form of self-control and to do it quickly." He didn't like the idea of anyone else in his head than the being already trapped in there.

He wasn't fond of the subway, so crowded, but this was more about Mohinder so he ended up just nodding. "Subway is fine," he lied easily.

Mohinder looked surprised. "I'm not in your head. I heard the pen on the paper. I am truly sorry that this is making you uncomfortable. I haven't developed telepathy, not that I'm aware of. But I do know what it's like to live with a telepath. I was very good friends with one once... But he lost... He lost a great deal more than his way. It is not a pleasant ability," Mohinder said with a sigh. "I do apologise so... Hearing... The writing. I hardly know how sound from another room translates into the words written across my eyelids, but it does."

He couldn't telepathically bond with the beast in Bruce's head either. He just felt him stirring, like a fly caught on his web.

Mohinder gave Bruce a tight smile. "You're under no obligation to stay with me. If it gets too troublesome, I would understand if you returned to your own work." His eyes flashed like a cat's in low light before he turned to bring up the elevator and head down to street level.

Bruce wasn't entirely certain he believed Mohinder's diagnosis of what had occurred. Perhaps he did somehow hear the paper that far away, perhaps, but given the distance out of the lab, Bruce doubted it highly. An unconscious mental connection, given what he knew of another with certain possibilities, seemed more likely in the face of this vast amount of impossibilities today. Given that Mohinder had merely commanded a group of men to stop and they had listened.

Still, he chose to say nothing on it. "I told you, I'm coming with you, or I wouldn't still be here." He stepped up beside the other, adjusting the shoulder strap to his bag. Maybe it was insane to be doing this at all, given that it could go very poorly very quickly, but the idea of sending Mohinder out alone to deal with this would never have settled well on his conscience.

Though he might argue that he was able to soothe people to stop in their tracks not because he read their minds so much as was able to alter them, explaining that to Bruce might only upset him more. He could not hear what went on inside of his head but he could control it. Which was worse? Probably the latter.

Without thinking, or lifting his arm as was customary to call a cab, Mohinder called the nearest one over with a glance and after it pulled up, tha passenger riding inside of it eased out of the back seat and Mohinder took his place. Bruce could gawk or follow. It didn't matter. Mohinder was already giving directions to the lab.

And there he was, as far as Bruce was concerned, doing it again. He followed, but it was obvious from his expression and body language he was less than pleased with Mohinder. In the back of his mind, he wondered just how far this power went, and wondered if Mohinder even realized just how dangerous he was to be able to suggest such a thing. If the young man didn't get control over it properly...

His fingers tightened over the handle of the briefcase he didn't allow out of his grip, staring down at the dull surface. A part of him wondered if they would find anything at all in the lab, or even if the lab remained. Whatever Mohinder had gotten himself messed into, possibly HYDRA the more Bruce thought on it, the more obvious it became that they would not allow much to slip through their fingers. Perhaps they had no idea just what their little experiment would become in his full power, strong enough to resist them.

But Bruce knew how ruthless HYDRA could be when they wanted something. It was what he chewed on during the cab ride, remaining silent in a mix of thought and displeasure.

The silence in the back of the cab bothered him but Mohinder tried to put it out of his thoughts. He had so many more things to worry about, didn't he? The cab let them off at a street corner somewhere in the not so nice parts of the Lower East Side. Mohinder paid and tipped generously. He knew what it was like to drive a cab and while their driver was middle eastern and not Indian, he still wanted to pay it forward to a brother just trying to earn some money. At the corner, and not waiting for Bruce, Mohinder crossed the street and passed spray paint stenciled art work that depicted several pseudo HYDRA like images. He didn't notice, or seem to mind at least, and just kept walking to an alley.

The back door, thick metal, of what looked like an Indy record shop with a complicated keypad stood in the way of their progress. There were dumpsters to flanked it, and Mohinder used one to climb up and grab a folding fire escape ladder that hung just above it. He pulled it down for Bruce and slipped up to the third floor. A window there had a similar keypad and into this one, Mohinder punched a code. The window flung itself open, the brick around it slipping up as well to provide a door for them.

"It's one of the side entry ways," he said. He hadn't known about it until he felt it in his fingers upon passing one of the images actually. He didn't fill Bruce in on that either.

Bruce, however, did notice them and silently eyeballed the hell out of them before sighing. Damn it. How had Mohinder gotten mixed up so deeply with HYDRA? They had been able to use him so easily...

He followed Mohinder up the complicated way up, a brow raising at the surprising entrance, but he said nothing about it. Nothing about this felt right. Surely there were eyes on this building, waiting for Mohinder to return. Nervously he glanced around, studying the alley and all behind them, but it was silent. His gaze drifted to the rooftops but saw no figures there, either. That didn't mean they weren't being watched. "We can't stay for long," he said quietly before he ducked inside, eyes peering into the gloom.

"Says the man who requested to come with," Mohinder teased as if all of this was just a jaunt to the grocery store or the pharmacy and they weren't letting themselves into a dangerous underground lab that allowed or coerced Mohinder into killing himself while making him immortal.

Once inside, the facility played exactly as one might suspect. Mohinder found the lights (well no, he touched a wall and the lights came on, but whatever) and cold, white hallways laid out in a grid of mazes in front of them. None of the doors were labeled and all had security pads next to them but Mohinder knew the way. Or at least he walked straight ahead and expected Bruce to follow.