Sam smiled absently. "I was adopted by an older couple. Guess I developed their taste in music. And anyway, I'm older than I look." And, honestly, good music was good music. Just like good art was still good art. Titian had died a gazillion years before Sam had even been cooked up in the lab. His work was still pretty dope. To say nothing of Leonardo and the other Ninja Turtles.

"And no," she added. "That wasn't when I got whooshed here." She paused. "And 'whoosh' is the scientific term."

She refilled his glass. Not because she thought he needed more of her rat poison, or anything. More of a stalling technique, as she debated how much she wanted to share.

Well. What the hell? What did she have left to hide?

"No, it was about six months after the Rain of Fire. The last vestiges of...well. We were planning a full-frontal assault on the Predators. Ironically, that also involved super suits..."