My feet are cold. No matter what I do, my feet are always cold. It makes me a little nervous because cold really isn't supposed to bother me that much. According to the wack-job scientists I'm 'immune to pain and injury'; they just give me funny looks and disbelieving smirks when I complain about my cold feet during my weekly physicals. There are sometimes even a few giggles. Screw them. My feet are freezing, dammit!

The lengths I go to trying to keep my toes warm are unreal. Steaming hot footbaths, triple layers of socks, open flame�. You name it, I've done it. Nothing seems to work, though. My toes are living ice cubes.

After sharing my cell for about a few days now, Rogue has gotten used to my foot quirks. First time she saw me wrap my entire blanket around just my feet though, she actually laughed. It was one of the spookiest sounds I've ever heard. That girl is seriously messed up.

At least she's company, though, and she's a decent roommate; keeps to her side of the cell, doesn't have bad B.O, looks the other way when I have to use that ridiculously tiny toilet. A guy's gotta appreciate that kind of thing. She's quiet too, always reading those books of hers. Only time she bothers me is when her Discman is on too loud and all I can hear is the bass line of that crap music she likes so much. I mean, c'mon! Either turn it up so I can actually listen to the shit or turn it off completely! In between is just plain torture.

Yeah, we get along ok� probably because we leave each other alone most of the time. Still, it surprised me when she backed me up when I argued with that Cyclops dude Wraith's got such a hard-on for. I wasn't expecting that.

Since the muckety-mucks got their new X-Playthings, we'd been spending more time in our cells. Part of me was happy that I didn't have to play nice and go on bullshit missions with those twits, but the other part of me, the louder part, tended to worry.

"Do you suppose that they're gonna kill us now?" The question had been boiling within my brain all day. Hell, I knew she probably wouldn't bother putting her book down to answer me, probably couldn't hear me over whatever screeching harpy music she was listening to, but I had to ask someone. I had to talk about it before the question burned a hole into my brain. With the X-Chumps on some mission, and empty cells surrounding us, now seemed like the perfect time.

She glanced up. "What? What makes you think that?"

"I dunno. I've been feeling a bit more expendable since we helped Wraith acquire that Colossus guy�"

"You're just being paranoid, Juggs. Go request a Valium or a Prozac or something and leave me be."

I fuckin' hate when she calls me 'Juggs.' "I am not being paranoid, Rogue. You should be worried too, y'know. That redhead doesn't even need to touch someone to get a peek inside their heads like you do."

Rogue actually looked up. " She can't steal their powers though. I'm irreplaceable."

"She can get them to do exactly what she wants. She doesn�t steal their powers, she steals their minds and bodies! That's way better, Rogue. She doesn�t ever even have to get her hands dirty!" My feet were getting cold again; I hunkered over and chafed them roughly, trying to get some feeling back into my toes. "They were talking about having Colossus stop a moving train, for fuck's sake! I don't know if I'd be able to do that."

"Well you've never tried, now have you?" Rogue huffed. "You never know what you�re capable of unless you try!"

"Y'think? Shit. I don't know if I'd be able to do that, though. To stop a train� I fuckin' hate Colossus!"

Rogue put her book down with a sigh. "Since you're obviously not going to shut that huge yap of yours, I'm forced to try to make it clear what a friggin' moron you're being! Do you hear the words that are coming out of your mouth? You hate Colossus? What the fuck, Cain?! Think about it for a second here� you're jealous of him because our captors� repeat CAPTORS� are paying him more attention then they do you!? She was actually sitting up and waving her arms in my general direction, more animated than I'd ever seen her. "Are you insane?"

I grinned. "Glad to see that you can still get riled up about something, Roguey!"

"Fuck you!"

"What's the matter? Did I touch an ickle little nerve?"

"You are such an asshole." She moved to pick up her book. "I don't know why I even bother�"

That chafed me. I rubbed my feet harder. "You don't bother. You barely talk to me unless I say something stupid enough to piss you off." I started pulling on my many pairs of socks. "Then you just yell."

She glanced my direction. "I don't do that."

"Yes. You do."

"�"

"It isn't like I care or anything." I smirked as I wrapped my blanket around my feet and rolled over. "I don't need you to do me any favors."

Our cell was quiet for a long time, but I don't think either of us slept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They're back."

Rogue's statement made me open my eyes. I don't know if she was talking to me or just couldn't handle the silence anymore. How did she know I was even awake?

"The redhead's crying." Her voice cracked slightly.

"Yeah." I could hear them, the Xavier kids, scuffling around in their cells. I'd been listening to them for quite a while, actually. Ragged whispers and sobs floated across the hall; angry desperate voices from the cell next to Rogue.

"Vic says she killed someone today. With her thoughts."

"Yeah." I rolled over and looked at her. "Told'ja."

"It's nothing I couldn't have done. I'da just had to touch a little." Her arms were tightly folded across her chest, eyes staring emptily across the hall. I followed her gaze and smirked.

"You should really stop spying on people hugging, Rogue. It's about as creepy as the time I caught you kissing yourself in a mirror."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying�" I grumbled, sitting up. "Shit, can't even make a joke without you jumping all over my ass."

"It wasn't funny."

I just shrugged and started in on my foot ritual, unwrapping the blanket and then peeling off my socks. After the first three layers I glanced over at her. She hadn't moved. Fingers still gripping her elbows, pushing those boobs together and up beneath her bodysuit. Face still hard, spine still rigid. Eyes still empty. And wet.

Oh fuck.

Working off the rest of the socks I checked out the action across the hall. Kurt was curled up on his cot, as usual. The redhead, 'Jeannie' I remembered, and the deluded asshole with the funky glasses were still hugging. His fingers were stroking her back lightly, soothingly. With a pang, I had a fleeting memory of someone, maybe my Mother, caressing me like that. I remembered how warm, comfortable and safe it made me feel. My eyes stung and I blinked hard for a moment, staring at my feet. Then I looked back at Rogue.

"Wanna help me?" My voice sounded out of place, odd, as if the sound were trapped in the air between us and never actually reached her ears. For a second there, I thought it hadn't, then she seemed to shake herself.

"What?"

"I wouldn't mind some help here." I mumbled, "With my feet, I mean."

She blinked, vacant.

"Forget it. It was just a suggestion."

"No. Wait." Slow movements untangled long thin limbs; she actually looked curious. "What could I do?"

"Dunno. Thought you might have some ideas."

"Um. Not really, no."

"Oh."

Ignoring the hovering awkward silence, eyes avoiding the emotionally unraveling spectacle across the hall, I resumed my ritual, chafing each toe in turn in a feeble attempt to get the blood flowing again. I swear, it was almost funny the way the tips of my toes wrinkled up, all white and pasty. They were bloodless, like little vampire toes in their efforts to conserve warmth. I was trying out a new technique today in my eternal war against icy feet. I'd roll one toe, small and sausage-like between my fingers until I could feel the tingle of resumed blood flow and the digit was red, shockingly proud beside its four frigid brothers. The wonderfully warmed and rosy toe was then loosely insulated with toilet paper while I worked on the others. I methodically warmed an entire foot this way, toe by toe, feeling Rogue's eyes on me the entire time. Finally, I had just finished wrapping the entire foot mummy-like in tissue and was pulling on a sock when she stopped me.

"That's not going to work, y'know."

"It might."

"It won't."

I sighed. "Look, Roguey, at this point I'm willing to have the devil himself come and piss on my feet if that�s what it takes to keep them warm. Anything's worth a shot."

One long leg stretched across the cell, spanning the space between our bunks, and the rest of her body followed it. Y'gotta understand, when Rogue moves sometimes it's almost as if you can see her skeleton, the bones beneath her skin, actually lifting the body, forcing the unwilling flesh to submit to the unyielding strength of bone. Yeah, I know that it's the other way around, muscle and sinew puppeting bone, but I can't help what I see. Just watching her bones push at her flesh beneath the fabric of her bodysuit mesmerizes me.

Oh fuck, she'd been talking.

" so that they stay next to each other, sharing body heat." She was sitting on the end of my bunk, leaning in and looking at me with those eyes of hers. "D'ya see what I'm saying?"

" Er"

"It isn't a difficult concept, Cain." Oooh.. she was starting to sound huffy or excited or both. She's gonna get mouthy any second. "Just think of it like� um� gloves!"

Now I was thoroughly confused. And she was getting too close; I could feel her fuckin' breath for cryin' out loud! "g-g-Gloves?"

"mmm-hmm." She was bobbing her head, white curls bouncing and tangling with brown against her forehead. "Mittens are warmer, but bulkier; with gloves each finger is separate so we can manipulate stuff better." She wiggled her slim, encased fingers in my face for emphasis. "You don't need to worry about that with feet though."

I was completely lost, distracted like I was by the fingers and the hair and the breath and stuff. And my tongue wasn't working. "Um. Oh� Kay?"

"Cain"

Whatever else this suddenly crazy woman was about to say was mercifully interrupted by a pair of guards dragging a very raw and crispy Wolverine down the hallway. We gaped, gawked, plugged our noses against the smell of charred flesh, listened to Sabretooth gloat, and then left the J-Crew Kids to their worried wails. It wasn't like they were going to include us in their newly-compounded shared misery, thank God, and we really didn't have any words of comfort for them anyway.

Besides, the strange fact that Rogue was still beside me on the bunk mattered more to me at the moment then a dozen deep-fried co-mutants.

"He didn't look too good." Her voice was soft. Why was she holding my socks?

"Nope."

"The Ice-kid is crying." There they were, just lying in her lap, empty and lost.

I shifted nervously. "He's young."

"Not that young." She didn't meet my eye; she was looking at her hands, her lap, my socks. "We're not much older."

"We've been here longer." I curled one naked foot behind the opposite knee, a long-standing warming tactic, though all I usually ended up with was a chilly hamstring.

"Yeah." She still didn�t look up, and the fingers resting on my socks were trembling. "Do you suppose�" she murmured, "do you think his tears freeze?"

I couldn't help it. I reached one of my big old hands across and closed it over hers, the socks, everything together. "Could be." I withdrew my hand, slowly pulling the socks along with it.

She just sat there, staring down at her hands, her lap, her gloves. When she spoke, her voice was light and full of near-reverent surprise. "That would really suck."

"Yup. You aren't the only person whose mutation has nasty side-effects, y'know." I started pulling a sock over a now much-rumpled tissue covered foot when she reached over and snatched it out of my hand. For a second I thought she was going to beat me around the head with it.

"I said that wasn't going to work, Cain!" She waved the sock in my face. "Don't you listen to anything?"

To my dumbfounded shock, she scooted to the end of the bunk, situated herself in the corner, and promptly pulled my feet into her lap. I was very uncomfortable, but getting too scared of her to do much of anything about it. This wasn't normal Rogue behavior. I didn't say anything for a moment until she started determinedly tearing off tissue paper.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She looked up, puzzled, each small hand wrapped firmly around a big toe. "You asked for my help, I'm helping."

I blinked. "How?"

Her lips twitched slightly. "I don't know yet. We'll see."

I bunched up my cheap, flattened pillows and tried to make myself as comfortable as possible. Rogue meant business, all thin lips and impersonal fingers, and, since she tends to be single-minded about things, I figured I was in for the long haul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Anything?" Her voice was almost plaintive.

"Not really, Rogue," I answered tiredly. It had been 2 meals and one long nap since Rogue had started her one-woman mission against chilly Juggernaut feet and, so far, there had been no joy. "The only thing that even works for a while is when you rub 'em� and that doesn't last long."

"C'mon Juggy! There's gotta be something." She was truly exasperated and was rubbing the top of my left foot roughly. It's a damn good thing I'm invulnerable or she would have taken the skin off by now. "It just doesn't make any sense that nothing's working!"

"Maybe it's part of my mutation."

"Bullshit!"

"Seriously! Maybe I'm really Ice-foot-boy or something." I chuckled. "It's my strongest, most impressive power, mysteriously latent at the onset of puberty, but somehow triggered by close proximity to Weapon X assholes!"

She snorted. "If you have any overwhelmingly strong, secret mutant power it's your ability to pass noxious wind while sleeping."

My jaw dropped. "I do NOT!"

"Why else do you think I sleep with my head under the blanket?"

God, this girl was evil! "I can think of way too many reasons why you'd want to do that, Rogue-ness."

"Be nice," she growled, pinching a pinky resentfully. "Have you tried an electric blanket? Scalding footbath? Hot water bottle?"

I let out a patient sigh. "Rogue. First time I complained that my feet were cold those science sadists took a blowtorch to 'em."

She flinched. "Jesus." Her thinly gloved fingers rubbed harder, faster. "And you really didn't feel a thing?" She was looking at me. Hard.

"No." I had to look away, anywhere but at her. My entire being was suddenly flooded with guilt, rage� impotence. I'd been right down the hall the last time they'd broken her legs; I'd heard her every scream, every whimper, every single defiant curse. I'd had to put up with Sabretooth's bitching that he had to get touched by her again, after she'd been left to 'think on her mistakes' for a few hours. They couldn't hurt me like that; the only thing they had to hold me was the threat of blowing up my head. It made me sick to realize how easily they'd shaped my will and how much she'd had to suffer before they even cracked hers.

"Hey." I felt her small hand on my arm. "It's o.k."

My eyes burned, but I met her gaze. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

Her smile was small, the half-hearted expression of the old and resigned. "We can't all be invulnerable. At least I can steal a healing factor sometimes, right?" She shifted uneasily, obviously uncomfortable, and changed the subject. "So, did you pick the name 'Juggernaut' or did the great self-important gurus upstairs saddle you with it the same way they forced 'Nightcrawler' on Kurt?"

I sniffed. "They gave me a list. I picked."

She wrinkled her nose. "A list!?"

"Yeah."

"What else was on it?"

"Stupid shit."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like. What?"

"Behemoth, Gigantor�" I could feel myself starting to blush. "Colossus."

Her other eyebrow joined the first. "No freaking way!"

"Yup." My ears were burning; I couldn't even begin to imagine how red I looked, hair and all.

She snorted. "At least you chose well. Juggernaut suits you, strangely enough," she said, poking me in my ribs playfully before moving her attention back to my abused feet. "What made you pick it?"

I shrugged. "All the other names would have made me sound either dumb or�" I hesitated, darting my eyes toward the cell I knew held the Russian.

Rogue's lips curved. "Pretentious?"

"I was gonna say pansy, but pretentious just about covers it."

"Be nice."

"I am being nice!" I wiggled my toes at her nose. "You're the one who said it first!"

"If you don't get those things out of my face, I'll bite them off!"

My lips pursed. "Tease!"

"Prick!" she muttered, but her lips were curving. Her face was slightly flushed and her fingers developed an eerie strength as she pushed my foot back to her lap. "Be a little more careful, Juggs."

I sighed. "Relax, Roguey." I nudged her ribcage with a big toe. "I'm just messing with you. Geez."

"I just don�t like being teased."

She could dish it out well enough, but I wasn't about to push the subject. "Anyway, Juggernaut just sounded more� warlike. Kinda like an A-Bomb or something."

She just stared. "Don't you know what it really means?"

"Nope."

"Wait." She hopped up and knelt in front of her bunk, reaching under the mattress into her stockpile of quasi-smuggled books. I swear that girl's got a veritable mini-library under there; sometimes I wonder how she sleeps. She pulled out a ratty old dictionary. "Here we go!" She slid back into the space she'd commandeered at the end of my bunk, legs all askew, and pulled my feet back into her lap, resting the spine of the heavy volume on my toes as she rifled through the pages. "Got it!" Her eyes scanned the page quickly, then she snorted.

"What?"

"Oh great and powerful Juggs� you're a Hindu god!"

"Bullshit."

"Seriously! The Juggernaut is an aspect of the Hindu deity, Krishna!" She was laughing now, in her weird Rogueish way, holding most of it inside as if she was too scared to make any real noise. "Oooh, oohh!! Get this! Says here that people would sacrifice themselves to this god and shit!" Her chuckles slowed. "'Something, as a belief or institution, that elicits blind and destructive devotion, or to which people are ruthlessly sacrificed.' " She lifted her eyes to mine and recited the remainder of the passage, lips carefully forming the words, eyes round. "'An overwhelming and irresistible force or movement. Lord of the World.'"

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"I chose well."

"Doesn't it seem a little� oh, I don't know� pretentious?"

I smacked her with my pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, I was awakened by a barely hushed argument between the curvy weather chick and Mr. Newly-Blue next door. He was angry, and she was attempting to be comforting, but failing miserably. She was suffering from an overabundance of anger herself, it seemed. I wasn't particularly interested in eavesdropping on the misery of others, honestly, and staring at the wall wasn't going to help me get back to sleep.

So I rolled over. Almost instantly, my eyes met Rogue's. Her eyes were huge, haunted and tired in her small face, but they weren't defeated. She rolled away from me deliberately, drawing her thin blanket over her head like a shroud. One movement transforming the space between our bunks into a cold, wide gulf.

For a moment, I could only stare at the shapeless lump, slightly shocked and even a little hurt. I had been under the impression that progress had been made on both sides towards a mutual understanding, and here she was reverting to her 'Rogue the anti-social bitch' persona. But suddenly, it occurred to me that, even as I was watching her now, tracing the hills and valleys of her hidden body revealed by the cool green glow of our cell's nighttime illumination, she may have been watching me as I slept. This was both a strangely pleasant and frightening thought. Shit. Now I really wasn't going to get to sleep anytime soon.

Tearing my eyes away from her body, my gaze landed on the dictionary resting on the floor beside my boots. Rolling onto my stomach, I scooped it up, propped myself on my elbows, and flipped to the 'R's. The light wasn't great, but I could still make out the words. The entry was outlined heavily in black, easy to find.

rogue (r?g) n. 1. An unprincipled person; scoundrel. 2. A person who is playfully mischievous; scamp. 3. Archaic. A wandering beggar, vagrant. 4. A vicious and solitary animal� 5. An organism� that shows an undesirable variation from a standard.

My lips moved soundlessly as I read and re-read the entry. Single words or phrases stood out starkly: scoundrel, mischievous, wandering, solitary, undesirable. None of the words were nice; nothing in the passage could serve to uplift or empower. My eyes lingered on the final definition, undesirable variation, before I closed the book with a huff. Whether chosen or given, the name suited her, and it was sad.

I fell asleep curved on my side facing her, hugging the ragged book to my chest, ears ignoring the faint murmurs still coming from the neighboring cell. In those hazy moments of half-sleep I remember wondering which came first, the name or the girl.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, I was only able to recollect most of it in segments, the impressions of events rather than the details. Rogue's hand on my shoulder waking me, her entire body electric with excitement, the power off, the glow of emergency lights and a scuffle of tense voices at the end of the hall. The flood of joy at the single, blessed 'Abracadabra.' I remember clapping my helmet on and charging headfirst into a wall of very frightened Weapon X flunkies, tasting for the first time the satisfaction of having the upper hand. My feet were still cold, but I no longer cared.

I was sitting in the rear of some aircraft of the Brotherhood's, smushed into a seat that wasn't anywhere near sturdy enough to support my bulk. Rogue sat nearby. Part of me found it odd that she stayed so close; with just the aisle between us it really didn't feel too different from our cell. It was kinda comforting, actually. Arguing voices floated back to us from the cockpit, a melange of accents out of which I was unable to distinguish a single coherent word. Except for Mastermind, who was napping 5 rows ahead, and the Blob, who sat in front of him eating something smelly, all the members of the Brotherhood of Mutants were jammed noisily into the cockpit. Oh, they hadn't ignored us. Wanda started off the trip by making a long speech of welcome that I could tell got on Rogue's nerves but I, for one, appreciated. It was nice to feel wanted, and to have a choice in the matter.

The X-Twits had asked us to join their little happy club of nice-nice mutants, of course, but it was obvious they were halfway scared that we'd say 'yes.' All we could do was laugh in their faces. Rogue wasn't about to hook up with them, and I'm not too fond of them myself. Besides, I could tell she had real sharp feelings of hate for that redhead telepath, and the popsicle-boy didn't exactly improve relations when he encased her hand in ice.

She had a glove off and was sucking the fingers of that hand methodically, prim as you please. I was just concentrating on trying not to stare. She caught my eye and pulled her pinkie out of her mouth with a faint 'pop.'

"They still feel frozen."

"The blue guy said they might feel that way for a while, didn't he?"

"Yeah." She grimaced, staring ruefully at her hand. "Ice-boy got me back good for that trick I pulled when I stole the redhead's powers."

"They don't exactly live up to their own standards, do they."

"Hypocrites." Her voice was rough but her eyes twinkled. She shoved an index finger between her lips. "Sowaya pinka dawadewood?"

I blinked. "Oh� um� them? Uh� well. At least they busted us out of that fuckin' place." I glanced around nervously and lowered my voice, leaning over the aisle. "I just want to see how closely they hold to Magneto's ideals without going over the deep end. That Wanda chick seems to be trying, but if you ask me she's a little� er� disturbed."

I don't know how she did it, what with a mouthful of digits and all, but Rogue smirked. It was getting really hard not to stare at her mouth so I sat back in my seat and pretended to be interested in something else, looking anywhere but at her. It was damn difficult. After what seemed like an endless silent torture, broken only by Mastermind's snores, Rogue's wet breathing, and the occasional grunt of satisfaction from the Blob, she spoke as if our conversation had never paused.

"Yeah, I get that too."

It took me a second to process what she was saying but when it sunk in I was just a little stunned. "I don't think of you that way, Roguey," I said quietly.

She smiled slightly as she drew on her gloves. "Liar," she murmured lightly, raising her eyes to meet mine. She regarded my openmouthed expression evenly for a moment. "You know very well I'm not exactly stable."

"But� but..!" I was floundering, and I knew it. I honestly didn't know what to say to the girl, especially since I felt like she was pinning me to the bulkhead with those impossibly green eyes of hers. "But Rogue�.!"

"Relax Cain." She stretched a long leg across the aisle and rested a foot on the arm of the seat in front of me. "I'm not going to chew you a new one just because you happen to side with the majority on the question of my sanity. Besides," her lips widened into a rare grin, "we ex-Weapon X types have gotta stick together."

My chest suddenly felt very tight. "What do you mean?"

She raised an eyebrow my direction. "Y'know. If the shit hits the fan again here with the Brotherhood and such�" she fiddled nervously with the fingers of her gloves. "I mean, who else are you gonna trust?"

I felt like she'd hit me dead center with a wrecking ball. She was right of course. She was right, and I felt both relieved and resentful. Truth was I liked Rogue, despite her freakish ways and frequent open hostility; the thought of going our separate ways wasn't a pleasant one. Still, it just wasn't right that she could read me the way she did. I wasn't one of her damn books. Her being able to slip her mind between the layers of my personality like one of her fancy-ass tasseled bookmarks was unnerving. I glared at her.

"What?!" Her fingers plucked fretfully at the fabric of her glove. "What is it?"

"I just hate when you do that, Rogue," I grumbled. "Is saying what's on my mind even before I know what I'm thinking part of your mutation or something?!"

"So you're with me on this?" She sounded vaguely anxious.

I hesitated, but not very long. "Yeah. I guess so." For some reason my nerves were all jumpy. "But I doubt we'll have to skip out. Loopy as Wanda may be, the Brotherhood is probably our best chance right now."

Her entire body settled, as if a clenched fist inside her ribcage had slowly opened. "I know." Her lips curved slowly into a small smile, the softest expression I'd ever seen on her face. "Still. It's nice to know I don't have to be completely alone."

I knew she was just covering all her bases; maintaining my loyalty was a survival tactic, plain and simple. But she looked so pale and tiny in that seat, so completely breakable that for a minute there it didn't matter to me that we were really negotiating on how best to use each other. I could pretend with her for a while that our decision was genuine, based on honesty, trust, and the true secret desire for the loyal companionship of a friend. Maybe in a nicer world it would have been. I know I, at least, would have liked it to have been true.

I leaned back against the bulkhead and gently settled one of my feet into her lap. "In the meantime, Rogueness, why don't you chafe my toes for a bit." The look she sent me was so relieved, so damn near grateful that I didn't have the heart to tell her that, for perhaps the first time in months, my feet were already warm.

Notes: Assumptions: Ultimate Juggernaut is a perplexing character to me, but also full of possibilities. We can assume that there are 2 major changes in Cain Marko's character as opposed to his 616 counterpart: a) He is no longer Charles Xavier's abused/angry stepbrother, b) his powers are genetic in nature, not mystical. Also, he is a teenager who has been forced to comply with the Weapon X project for an indefinite period of time (his number is 5� I'm figuring at least a couple years of slavery here!) I'm going to allow him to retain, as a mutant, most of the properties the bearer of Cyttorak usually enjoys: the ability to survive indefinitely without food, water or oxygen, unstoppable living engine with the ability to smash through any barrier, immune to pain and injury, etc�. I'm sure you get the picture.

Disclaimer: Dictionary excerpts are from The American Heritage Dictionary, Second College Edition.