Re: The Other Kind of Roommate

[Tartra]

“I want to go to that.”

Xander was talking again! ... What the hell was he talking about? What thing?

Oh.

Well, it was good to know he’d wasted no time in throwing them in the thick of things again. He wasn’t sure how much of an effect the coffee had had – Alex still doubted it did anything, but thanks to David’s pep talk about ‘naturally discovering one’s secondary source of energy’, he wasn’t surprised to find the guy bouncing back – but he’d managed to take over Alex’s mouth and fingertips. Never the hands if he could avoid it, because that was too much work, but the gist of what he wanted to do was clear through the basic steering, and what Xander wanted was to point two blocks down the street.

It seemed like every place they stopped in had a overly huge, overly snobby, overly rich restaurant conveniently within walking distance that was probably crowded by as many Agents – just their luck – as the rest of the cities they’d been in. That was precisely what Alex was looking at now: two storeys tall, surrounded by a lush garden, riddled with fountains tall enough to see from way over here...

“Is there a point in telling you –”

Nope!

Xander started walking, either expecting everyone else to follow or not caring if they did. Alex could feel a protest bubbling in his throat about how casual the guy was being when a confirmed – sort of – Agent was right beside them, but it got cut off when Alex was spun around and his arm was thrown over Quin’s shoulders.

“You, buddy, are like my angel right now. It’s about time I got someone new to talk to instead of the idiots I’m normally surrounded by.” Alex. Other one. “We need some time to get to know each other. Where’re you from? What do you do? How’d you crazy kids meet? And your treat? Quin, I might end this date with a wedding ring and it’ll be going on your hand whether you like it or not. Friends forever!”

And then he let him go, doling out one last, good, crushing squeeze that nearly ended around Quin’s neck before it finished. In typical Xander style, he marched to the front of the group and picked up a careless pace, almost leaving the three of them behind if Alex hadn’t intervened.

I don’t like that guy.

“You could’ve fooled me.”

A free dinner’s a free dinner, but I can get it myself. I don’t owe him any favours. And sounding decidedly more pissed off, he added a low, But I’ll try not to be ‘ungrateful’ about it. Good God – that’d be horrible.

“So... you’re mad about what Gwen said.”

Alex would’ve put in the effort to roll his eyes or sigh but his focus was divided by the fresh fire in his foot Xander had unwittingly – or else completely on purpose – stirred up with his brisk walk.

Oh, no-no-no-no-no! What Gwen said was an eye opener. It really highlighted my debt to both of you – y’know, the one who’s too big of a pussy and too stupid to fight the Agents on his own and the one who’d’ve already had her brain ripped out if I hadn’t happened to think she was hot the night before she got attacked. My bad, guys. I’m such an asshole!

“If you only came out of your corner to whine about how hurt you are, save it. I don’t have the privacy to tell you to shut up,” he said.

Well – why don’t you get your gal-pal to send a message? You two seem to be having oodles of fun together, so I’m sure she won’t mind.

Alex couldn’t walk as fast as Xander could on this toe. It was getting to the point where he might’ve been happier taking a knife to it, which was odd because the rest of his body was considerably worse off but still felt numb and dull from when he’d shaken it off in the alley. The point was that he was slowing down, and if the others were following after him, they’d catch up quickly and he didn’t have the will to explain why he was talking to himself. Saying he was ‘crazy’ might encourage more questions, which could turn into an interrogation, which could lead these strangers to finding out who he and Gwen were, which could lead to their bitter, grisly end. In the short moments before he was stuck with the crowd again, Alex whispered quickly, “What are you going to do about him?”

About who?

“About the Agent.”

Which one? Apparently I’m –

Alex took it as a sign there was nothing to worry about, otherwise he would’ve gone on and on about how Quin’s head was going to forcibly separate from the rest of his body. Still, Rudy was only half the problem.

“What about Oz or Ozzie or whatever?”

Who?

That time, he’d meant it. Everyone else knew it was their lives on the line – Xander’s more than anyone’s – and yet he refused to pay attention to the slightest thing.

“The girl,” Alex hissed. “Ozzie’s the girl.”

Oh. Thought you meant Australia. I was like, ‘what the fuck does Australia have to do with anything?’

“Xander...”

What about her?

Alright, not a threat. Good to know.

“Do you think..." This was probably a bad idea. "Should we keep her?”

Just ‘cause she’s a bitch doesn’t mean she's a dog.

“She could help us,” Alex said. His voice was jagged and hoarse. Now that he was on topic, then before anything went wrong and the option was no longer available, he had to keep walking fast to make sure he’d given Xander something to think about. This was swiftly turning into agony. “If he’s an Agent and he’s after her, then she’s got to have powers.”

And I would love to see you explain why she’s gotta jump into this shit along with us.

“We could make something up,” he replied. “We could trick her into thinking she has to come with us.”

Great idea, prissy pants! What, pray tell, did you have in mind? He didn’t bother waiting for Alex to sputter through a minute of nonsense. Or – wait. Let me guess. I have to make something up.

“You’re the better liar...”

The better everything, let’s not stiff me of my glory. Why do we need her?

“Xander, go over it in your head. If we’re transferring – however long that takes – then Gwen has to stop whoever attacks on her own. With someone else around –”

Someone with decent powers, and you’re not sure she even has them. He snorted. The kid’s got one Agent after her. One! And that’s after – from what I overheard – a few hundred near-escapes. I had a fucking army on my ass from day two. She’s useless. Huff. I’m sorry, I meant ‘your ass’. So ungrateful. You asshole, Xander!

“Look – stop getting mad at me when I didn’t say anything to you,” Alex snapped. “This is between you and Gwen. Leave me out of it.”

Very noble. I can see why she likes you better.

“I’m not –” His foot wasn’t going to hold on at this speed for forever. “If we still had David, I wouldn’t bring it up. Even if he was a snivelling coward, we could’ve beaten him into using his explosions a few times before he got away.”

I dunno about ‘coward’. He was pretty helpful in Elmira, bossin’ around the Agent who kicked your ass twice.

“It happened once –”

It’s a safe assumption that it would’ve happened twice if I hadn’t, again, saved you.

“... It happened once, and my point stands,” Alex said. “We need someone else.”

So ask her.

“I can’t.”

So get your girl to do it.

“And what if she –”

Then – oh no! You’re fucked! ‘Cause I don’t wanna do anything that gets someone else walking on precious fucking eggshells.

This was draining Alex's patience in the worst way. His teeth were grinding together and nails were digging into his palms.

“Will – you – get – over – it? It’s not as if I haven’t told you the exact same thing a million times before.”

Yeah, but this time I sad-faced for real. Xander’s voice got louder. Excuse me for taking offence to the words ‘go fuck off and die’.

“She never said that,” Alex told him.

‘I’ll let whatever happens happen, Xander, because you’re such a jerk and Alex is so sweet. He’s my honeybunkle and I’ll love him forever!’

“No more falsetto, please. You don’t sound like her. And that’s not what she meant.”

Right, right. ‘Cause I’m crazy, too. He thought about it. Oh, wait...

“Listen,” Alex said, forcing out a final plea before his foot refused to keep going. “You want this to work as much as I do. I’m asking you to consider stepping in to convince this girl to come with us if she proves to be even half-useful to have around –”

And worth the trouble she’s gonna cause. Or am I supposed to police that, too?

“Yeah, well... That’s part of the deal.”

‘Deal’? Alex had said the magic word. The cursed one, he meant, not the rainbows-and-sunshine type. I didn’t know we were making a deal. Alright – let’s see, what do I want out of this...?

“I need you to convince her and keep her under control so I can get you out of my body –” Alex’s hurried breath cut off in a quick cry of pain, and he stopped to bend over and run his hand over his leg. He could feel the pain in his knee and its slow crawl to his thigh. He’d been hoping for the bus ride, if not just to get the full story on the new power Xander had apparently discovered, then to get his weight off of this... this thing. His heart was beating heavily from the acid pulling through it and he couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on the source of his torture anymore than he already was. “If you wanna... just... take my foot for a while...”

Is that part of the deal, too?

What did he actually think he’d get?

Oh, ye of no imagination, how you pale before my insight, Xander said. I’ll think of something. I always do.

“It’s a little hard to make it sound like I’ve got a soul for sale when you’ve been gnawing at it for years.” The others were gaining on him and the restaurant was a few steps away. “I’ll buy you a Starbucks if you want. Whatever. Will you help?”

Xander considered it. It was too late for Alex to offer any last-minute words; the others were here and they’d arrived.

If she’s packing something better than an attitude, fine. It might make it worth the investment. But don’t forget – if I do it and I get stuck baby-sitting, you’ll owe me, Alex. I’m sick of this shit.

He made that very clear with a flash of anger that raced through Alex’s body. But not the foot. His foot was in Xander’s control, to his incredible relief. Much better. Much, much, much better.

“Hope you guys like... whatever this place serves,” he said. “Your treat, right, Quin?”

A free dinner was a free dinner.

* * *

“I feel sick.”

“You look sick.”

“I don’t think I want to take a plane.”

“You should have thought of that before the idea got in his head.”

Benoit was right. If Eric wanted to fly, they were going to fly, and Eric wanted to fly. The sole response he gave to Jason’s lead when she asked if he was sure he’d like to take a jet was a happy giggle, an excited nod and an overjoyed clap of his hands. The airport was a bit under an hour away from them, but with this particular driver, despite the fact that they were reasonably speeding now, they’d probably show up in twenty. The A-1 had taken the time to check in on his pet, and although she might’ve wanted to wring out his misery, Jason preferred not to talk to his boss – out of concern that he’d distract her from the road. He wasn’t avoiding her. He had no reason to. She’d probably leave him alone entirely thanks to the... ‘d’ word. In his opinion, A-6s weren’t as fun to screw around with as A-5s. Hell – he’d punched an A-6 once before, just because he’d been dared and it’d been a wild night of overtime. Was that anywhere on his record? No. A-6s didn’t complain about a thing. A-7s weren’t allowed to talk. A-8 to A-17? He could stab one if they were breathing too hard. There was no power left in his hands and he wasn’t sure why Benoit let him speak. Maybe the man was bored. Hate him or love him, once Eric’s mind was on something else, the rest of the world felt a bit bland.

“Make sure you brush his hair with the blue comb,” Eric was saying, on his thousandth instruction to whatever labbie in Elmira who’d been charged with watching the kid. “Don’t use the red comb because its bristles aren’t strong enough, but use the yellow comb when you’re done because he likes that.”

“I thought he said he didn’t care about the person he was transferring into,” Jason said softly.

“He doesn’t. But the body is of utmost importance.” Puff, puff. “I am sure you would see the point if you were assigned to be transferred.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m sceptical of that happening anytime soon.”

“Mm.”

Puff, puff.

He blamed Jean for this, by the way. That stupid Flunky... If anyone should’ve been demoted, it should’ve been him. Who was the one person – aside from Benoit – that had the most intel on Alexander? Even if no one knew about the charging, he was an idiot for thinking a one-vs-one made any sense at all. Come on, Jason wasn’t even on the case and he knew that. Then again, if the Flunky was alive, he’d say the same thing about Jason’s screw up.

Dammit. He was a moron. But the kid had been so convincing... What was it about him that screamed ‘obey me’ that he hadn’t been able to ignore? If he’d had his goggles, he could’ve recorded it. If he’d had the cast-off sunglasses, he could’ve done something there too, but both options had been snatched away by Gwendolyn Stewart. He could never forgive her. Not that she was begging for it.

“You’re sure the targets die during the transfer process? How does it work?”

Benoit eyed him in annoyance. Jason nearly took the question back, but he forced himself to remember that until the papers were handed in and processed – and so long as he was talking to anyone that wasn’t the one responsible for making him sign – he was still technically an A-5. He tried to broadcast it across his face. Did it work? Unlikely, but Benoit had his own reason for not ending the conversation.

“I thought you said you could run the transfer,” Frenchie said.

“The program, yes,” Jason answered. “But I’ve never been near the equipment before and I only learned the technical parts because they told me to. Said it’d give me something else to fiddle with to make coming down here a fair use of time. This thing was supposed to be open and shut...”

“And look how that turned out.”

There were a lot of things he could’ve said to that. At least two of them would’ve gotten Jason shot. Instead he said, “But I know how to do it. What I don’t know is how it’ll work. From the target’s side, I mean. They’re supposed to die, aren’t they?”

“Not exactly.” Eric’s phone was off and put back into the magical space with those vanishing papers. “The targets have to be alive to ensure the powers don’t fade. They’re hung in a state of unconsciousness – beyond being asleep, a step away from being dead. They aren’t capable of getting out of it unless the transfer doesn’t hold, but if it does hold, and it’s supposed to, then it’s not a matter of willpower or faith. They’re gone, period, but only as theoretically as we need it to be.” He grinned. “Hence the Alex and Xander situation. You know about their split-control, right?”

“Yeah. I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the psycho face-to-face.” And before he’d gotten a new body. “He almost killed me twice, you know.”

“Twice? Awesome. Count yourself lucky,” Eric said. “But that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Xander’s more than strong enough to hold his ground, but his trick to avoid getting pushed out was telling Alex that he was a part of his subconscious. What a guy. ‘You don’t have someone in your head, you’re just crazy!’ And he believed it! I’m tellin’ ya, I hope we get this sorted out minus the ‘death to Xander’. What a waste of resources, am I right?”

The memory of the eye-searing had Jason thinking the exact opposite.

“So my target will still be alive if my lead takes over,” he said.

“If you want to put it that way. It’ll be like life support forever – nooooot exactly a threat by any means.” The A-1 beamed. “I made sure of it. There is no way to get out. It’s like saying you’ll be fine with a bullet in your brain if you ‘believe’.”

“Didn’t you say your project had two personalities –”

“Ah-ah-ah! A-1 only!”

Oh. Jason forgot.

“You know a lot about the Alexander case,” Jason said. “I thought only Benoit was supposed to have access to it, even if you are a higher rank.”

“That’s usually how it goes, but I got involved ‘cause Xander’s just so cool and we thought we could get him set right,” Eric explained. He shook his head. “Poor Xander. So disappointed when I said we couldn’t help. We’d’ve had to take extract him entirely, and then with proof he couldn’t make the transition – didn’t matter if it was the technology’s fault or not – we’d’ve had to send someone else in. Like I said, it’s a different attachment these days, but having him walk around knowing somebody else got Alex’s powers would’ve been like... I don’t know – Benny jumping into Gwen.”

Benoit choked on his cigarette.

“Only a woman can transfer into another woman,” Frenchie said. “I am distinctly ineligible.”

“Right, right! You understand how insane it’d be,” Eric said. “And Xander – ha! He’s got a short temper the best of times. We weren’t overwhelmed by volunteers for who got to tell him, that’s for sure, so we decided we’d kill the guy and save ourselves the trouble. And that was when we found out he was an incredibly talented pup. Not only did he figure out that’s what we’d come up with, but before I could try bringing him in – no thanks to Benoit, here – he’d exploded my mind and killed me and took out half a dozen of our team. The rest, as they say, is le histoire.”

“Do not say that. Ever.”

“Au contraire, mon frère,” Eric told the Frenchie, grating the words against his smile hard enough to make the man cringe. “I’ll use whatever bon mot I need, largely because it’s appropriate, partly because I enjoy schadenfreude a little more than what’s healthy.” He rolled his eyes and smacked his forehead. “Dammit, that’s German again.”

Gwen wasn’t going to be dead. She wasn’t even going to suffer. The surge of morals around him clearly said he should’ve been happy. He could rest easy knowing that if he, down the road, disagreed with what the Agency was doing, he didn’t have to feel guilty about harming anyone. They’d be at peace.

Should have been happy. Instead, he was disappointed. He kept it to himself while Eric went on badgering Benoit, but he wouldn’t have minded if something in his lead’s transfer was a bit off. He didn’t want the process sabotaged, of course, but if dear Gwen was mildly aware of how screwed she was, it’d make up for everything she’d done to him.

“How long does it take for someone to go mad in the post-transfer coma?” He asked as much out of curiosity as anything else. When Eric’s teeth gleamed pleasantly, Jason offered a quiet shrug.

“Depends on the person. One woman made it four years. She was goobly when she got out at first – four years of nothing is a painful experience – but she straightened up fast. My darling Agent Maggie snapped after six months, though. What a shame that she was in there for a year. Xander did two years, a friend of mine did three – didn’t make it – but the average seems to be around four months.” Eric shrugged, too. “Doesn’t take long. I’d recommend you avoid it.”

“Of course.”

Four months. Then if Gwen stayed awake for forever, Jason would definitely feel avenged.

Right then, Jason felt less sick.

[Guest]

She didn't really know what to feel when he spoke up again, but any excitement or relief that might have been caused by Xander's reemergence was completely obliterated as she followed his pointing finger to the big fancy place at the end of the two blocks. There was no mistaking what establishment he meant and Gwen's shoulders slumped in dismay as she cast him an irritated look. See!? This was the kind of crap she'd been talking about! It would be so much easier, and quieter and even less risky if they just got a meal to go, found a secluded place to eat or even found a new vehicle and ate on the way out of here. These risks he kept taking put their lives in danger and it was completely unnecessary! She remembered a time when she'd thought he was doing it on purpose to leave a trail behind for those who were after them. She no longer felt that way, but still, he was trying her patience.

Right in the middle of sending him a pulse - Alex might not be able to convince him to eat somewhere more reasonable, but maybe if she got on her pretty little knees... - Gwen's thought was stopped short as he fell back beside the still moping and quiet Quin. The man had been poking gingerly at his cracked and dead phone trying to restore it to some semblance of life, and he blinked up at Xander distractedly. Looking down the block where they were headed, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Uh, sure thing, Ben. Whatever everybody wants. I insist on buying, so...go ahead and pig out."

There was a significant difference to Rudy's demeanor now, not only distracted but even a bit numb. There was no longer any melancholy like there had been before right after the phone had been broken, but he was definitely not focusing on what was happening right now. Busy planning perhaps? The phone was gone, but he might be able to get it working again - she was still unsure of what he was capable of and now, the wall around his thoughts was even more impenetrable than before.

Turning to Alex, she was just about to try and convince Xander to eat somewhere else - hell, even Mexican if she could sway him - but she was halted once again by the tone of his internal voice. So, he was still pissed at her. God, and what an asshole! It was like he'd only listened to half of what she'd said and filled in the rest of the story to make himself out to be the victim! Alright, she fully admitted that she'd been a bit harsh and she had failed to mention that she was indeed grateful, but with the way he was acting now, there was no way he'd get an apology.

"Shit! Come on!" a murmured whisper said behind her and she glanced back to see Rudy slapping his phone against his hand in frustration, while trailing far behind the rest of them. Also glancing back, a smile appeared on Osono's face and she leaned towards Gwen as they walked, holding her hand palm upward to her. Gwen knew what she wanted instantly, but still hesitated before lightly tapping her hand with her own in a small "five".

"I gotta hand it to you, Stacy, that team work back there was genius," she said, a cigarette appearing between her lips as she chuckled in a raspy voice. "I've never seen the kid so sad or so QUIET."

For a moment, Gwen was worried that somehow Ozzie had figured out that she'd talked in her head, but there was no hint of it in the woman's mind. "It was an accident," she said with a sheepish smile and a shrug. "I didn't mean to fall on his phone."

"Sure, sure," Ozzie said nodding and dipping the tip of her cigarette into her cupped palms. A light flickered from between the cage of her fingers, and Gwen held back a gasp when she sensed that the woman wasn't holding anything that could have created it. But it was gone in a split second and Ozzie was inhaling from her freshly lit cig and blowing out a thin cloud of smoke as she continued on, as if nothing had happened. Normally people didn't notice. Normally people didn't last long enough around her to even get a chance to notice.

"But I woulda curb stomped it anyhow and then he woulda been pissy at me and bitching in my ear until he gets a new one," she said with a roll of her eyes. "With you and your little "accident" he can't be mad." Um, that was doubtful, especially when she felt her shoulder blades itch from the murderous glare he cast in her direction.

So, fire. Now she knew why the Agents were after Osono and she thought about sharing the knowledge with Alex and Xander, especially since they were currently discussing the benefits of keeping her around. But she caught the tail end of Xander being a bastard again and she instantly shut up. Fine. He didn't need to know - he was so smart, he could figure it out on his own! As far as their group was concerned, she'd already made the decision for him. And she decided Osono was coming with them. Now, she'd just figure out how to convince her to stay with them before he got a chance to and the deal between the ex-Agent and Alex would be off, right?

Looking at the rebellious woman, she was definitely more relaxed now, her shoulders held at ease and sucking on her cigarette in a pleasant way. If there was a better time to get the woman to open up a bit more, then she wasn't going to wait for it. "Why did you want to destroy his phone?" Gwen asked curiously. "Seems like a mean thing to do. I mean, I know he's annoying - and that singing was awful - but it seemed a bit cruel."

"Trust me, babe. NOTHING is too cruel for that little twerp," she said casting her dark eyes at Gwen and for a few seconds their gazes met and she could sympathize with that. Probing the woman's mind, she realized Osono knew that there was a connection between the phone and the faceless men and women who occasionally showed up when Quin was around. She wasn't exactly positive that he called them on the phone or what exactly - there were memories where the phone wasn't involved at all in some instances; these people just suddenly knew where she'd be and were waiting - but she knew that it was used as a signal of some kind at least half of the time.

She'd often contemplated destroying it, but when Rudy was unhappy, he was aggressively whiny and hitting him or threatening him did not shut him up. So, she was left weighing the benefits of getting rid of the phone and having to deal with the big baby. Lucky for her, Gwen's little "push" had basically made her think "Screw it!" and bought her some much needed relief. She was always on edge and needed a little break from running and destroying things and now she had at least a little time to relax.

Ozzie thought about sharing this information with Gwen and she wavered for a few moments, sucking deeply on the cigarette as she thought it through. Gwen was a little disheartened when she decided not to but didn't have time to let the emotion register as Ozzie's hand went around her waist so they were hip to hip in a small hug. The gesture was a lot like the squeeze Xander had given to Rudy when they'd had a "pal" talk.

"Just know that you did me a really big favor, alright? I know it was an accident, but seriously, I owe you one," she said, shaking Gwen's body just a little before releasing her.

That made Gwen smirk a little. "Hey, no problem. I'm a pretty clumsy person; If it means getting him to be quiet, then I'll fall for you, anytime," it was meant to hint that their time together would be longer than Ozzie's normal encounters, but the wordplay made Gwen blush and Ozzie laughed.

"By the way, Stacy, I gotta ask...what is the deal with your boyfriend? Is he a tweaker or what?" She was currently referring to Alex's speedy walk added with the fact that he was clearly murmuring to himself.

"Uh...He has antisocial personality disorder..." Gwen said uncertainly. Osono had no idea what that meant but nodded her head slightly anyways, looking at his back. She at least knew what "antisocial" meant but all of it together just sounded like psychobabble to her.

"And schizophrenia," Gwen added. That was immediately understood and even though she was using the word incorrectly, Ozzie had been taught by pop culture to think the word meant "split-personality".

She sucked on her cigarette thoughtfully and breathed out a sigh of smoke. "Intense shit," she said, nodding slowly, almost as if in approval. She didn't really understand why, but Gwen was even more fond of the woman for that. Normally, hearing that someone had any sort of mental disorders like the ones she'd rattled off for Alex, they would have instantly been wary of being around the person - especially when it was obvious that he was unmedicated - and probably would have tried to put as much distance between themselves and the "crazy" person as possible. The fact that Osono was unaffected by the news and even seemed somewhat morbidly interested in the man, made Gwen feel better about how she'd gotten caught up with Alex in the first place. She wasn't alone in her fearlessness around the "mentally unbalanced".

As they came to a stop in front of the restaurant, near a high vaulting fountain with multiple tiers, Gwen decided to try once more to appeal to Xander's sense of sanity. "Please, can we go somewhere else? I'm really not in the mood for a sit down place. It's also not fair to make Rudy pay for all of us to eat here. And they probably won't even let us in anyways - these types of places usually have a dress code."

Not to mention the fact that these places are like Agent magnets, she pulsed at Xander. Are you naturally this absent-minded about your habits or are you doing it on purpose now just to spite me? Because I totally GET it - you're NOT trying to get us killed by engaging in this immature bullshit. Boy, you sure know how to prove me wrong.

"Please, can we just go somewhere quieter with less...pomp and pizazz?" she was practically begging him and the desperation could be heard clearly in her voice. Just once! Let him be reasonable when he wasn't too tired to put up a fight. Just. Once.

Gwen's complaining got Osono to think that her new friend was upset though. Smoothly, Ozzie slipped up to Gwen, a slender finger with a few hard silver rings upon it nestled beneath her chin tilting her head up as Ozzie's lips pecked her lightly on the mouth. The impulse was so sudden and immediate, Gwen didn't have time to sense what she was going to do before she did it. She blinked and blushed beet red, but as Osono drew away, she sensed from the other woman that the "smooch" was merely intended to unsettle her as well as showing a hint of friendly affection.

"Cheer up, Stace. Me and Rudy will take care of everything. Besides, I know schizo's got his heart set on this place. Right?" she winked at Alex and looked for Rudy, who instantly tucked his phone away and hurried to follow both women into the establishment. As she passed him, Ozzie gave a small friendly punch to Alex's shoulder and Rudy murmured an embarrassed "Heh." before the three of them disappeared through the spotless front doors. Gwen cast a glance back towards Alex, even as reluctant as she was being dragged along by her new friend.

Inside, the ceiling went all the way up to the second floor, vaulted with intricate moldings in the arches and painted an creamy white with light green accents, cut in half by a second floor that covered only half of the restaurant and around the sides. Two large chandeliers, ornate and unbelievably complex, hung from the ceiling, one lower than the other to accommodate the ground floor. And right before the doors was a marble desk, cream colored with dark green veins running through the stone and gleaming. A grand stair case stood a few feet behind it and went up about midway between the first and second floors before branching off to the right and left. The bottom floor before the stair was littered with tables and there were more clustered in groups along the walls beneath the overhanging walkway. Behind the stairs was the kitchen and above it, was the main hall of the upper floor littered with the priciest tables. Music was being played from somewhere above, from an indoor instrument.

As Rudy approached the counter, he handed the maître d’ a card pulled from his pocket just in time for the man to look up and regard their rag-tag group. "A table for 4, please," he said adopting a smooth, haughty tone of voice.

"Sir, I'm terribly sorry," the man behind the counter said, eying them each - but especially Osono - with distaste. "But you'll have to leave. We cannot serve you here."

"No, I believe you'll be more than remiss if you refuse my business," Rudy said in a low voice, giving the man an easygoing smile as he passed an I.D. across the counter as well. The manager cocked an eyebrow and sighed but took the card and looked it over. After a moment of staring he blinked and his tone changed. Probing his mind, Gwen sensed that he recognized the name as a prestigious family that Rudy was the youngest son of.

"My mistake, Mr. Quin," the man said in a deferential tone, a dutiful smile coming to his lips as he handed back the I.D. "Would you prefer a table on the top or bottom floor this evening, sir?"

"Top. And could we get the singular table in the center of the room, please?" He cast a look back at the three of them and said, "I'd like to treat my friends well."

"I'm very sorry, sir, but there are 4 reservations for that table the rest of the evening," the maitre d' was definitely sorry that he couldn't fulfill that request and praying that Rudy wouldn't be angry with him.

But Rudy was not bothered or hindered by such an admission. "They can sit somewhere else. I'll pay extra for those seats - more than any of those reserving it will, I'm sure - just scan the card."

"Yes, of course," the man, bowed his head with another tight smile and slid the bank card through the small machine, instantly getting a beep of approval. "Enjoy your meal at La Madeleine and if there is anything else you need, do not hesitate to ask, sir." Handing the card back to Rudy, another man, shorter and in a plain tuxedo, approached them. Several menus were tucked under his arm and he waited for them to follow him.

"Thank you," Rudy said with a smile and put the cards away before leading the way trailing the new waiter to their table.

On the ground floor, they passed a large fountain in the middle of the room as they walked in a line down the thick aisle between the opulent tables. Several people who were already seated were dressed in lush evening gowns and finely tailored suits and many of them paused to stare as they passed by. Gwen had grown somewhat used to this from her first time eating someplace big with Xander, and Rudy didn't seem to care either way. Osono was also used to turning heads, but she made a point of sneering and glaring at people, surreptitiously making lewd gestures as they passed, causing the innocent bystanders to instantly avert their gazes nervously.

On the second floor, the space spread out on all sides, but most notable was the large ceiling to floor windows against the far wall, overlooking the gardens and fountains surrounding the property. A grand piano was being played nearby. The waiter led them to a table that was right in the middle of the room, with both a clear view from the doors below and from anyone outside in the street below. The table itself was covered in a richly woven white table cloth, with their napkins folded into the shapes of doves and several different forks and knives at each place setting. The chairs were all cushioned and carved with intricate designs and all one piece, heavy as the servers pulled them out for each of them to be seated .

The waiter hastily plucked the "reserved" sign from the tabletop with a white gloved hand and began reciting specials as he handed out the menus to everybody. "Tonight, the specials are the Veal Tenderloin and crab cake served on a crispy potato galette with truffle and lobster sauces, the Fricassee of Snails and wild mushrooms with green asparagus, served in a puff pastry shell and the French onion soup gratinéed with swiss emmenthal. Can I start everyone off with some drinks?"

Rudy looked over the menu with an eager eye and when he spoke, he'd adopted his usual dorky tone. "Do you guys have any soda pop?"

The waiter paused and said, "We have fountain drinks, yes. Basic Pepsi products, sir."

"Hm, that's a 'No' for orange soda, then? Alright, just give me a regular cola."

The waiter took the rest of their drink orders and promptly left them alone, and finally Rudy turned to Alex who sat on his right side at the table. "My family owns a few hospitals, all big time doctors and whatnot. Except me, heh. But anyways, I get a big allowance every month just to disappear and keep quiet, and it allows me to do pretty much whatever I please. So, there's no price limit. Get as much as you guys want." It was more than clear that Rudy was enjoying the moment and being able to splurge on new friends, but there was the slightest hint of something else. Almost smugness. Whatever it was, it made Gwen nervous to be here in the middle of everything where everyone could see them.

"I use to take Ozzie to places like this all the time back in Grissom. But...well, she couldn't stop getting into trouble - she's like a magnet for chaos. So, I kinda just stopped trying, heh." He shrugged at the glare she gave him and laughed sheepishly. "Well, what's the point of setting up a luxurious and expensive meal, if something always happens to upturn the table?"

Conspiratorially, he whispered at Alex, "Hopefully nothing will go wrong, but I apologize before hand, Ben ole buddy, if anything happens that I can't control. The girl is like a frigging tornado." There was nothing but affection in the comment but still, Ozzie took a sip of her water and spat it at him. "Or some other natural disaster."

***

Focus. Focus. Focus. she intoned in her head, the blank mask once more in place over her features, smoothing them out to stonily regard the road. Stephanie kept an ear out with the current conversation but mostly her attention was on driving, trying to focus on something other than her partner for once. She had to reestablish control. There was no excuse for this behavior and how she kept on slipping. Looking back on all that had happened, she began to grow frantic as she realized it was getting worse. What had happened? It was easy enough to blame Jason, but that hadn't been the start of it, it had merely been a symptom. Even back in the apartment, she'd made the foolish impulsive decision to stay behind rather than follow Benoit's plan. With that in mind, it almost made the progression of events feel inevitable.

No! I'm in control. I'm in control! I'm in CONTROL!! It wasn't too late to fix this and correct her current errors. Obviously, something was wrong and her training with the Emotion Desensitization Program was unraveling. Maybe she'd grown soft with it after keeping it employed constantly for such a long period of time? If that were the case, then she needed to return to the basics. That made her remember the moment of it's birth in her mind all those years ago.

It had been the night Richard had left on reassignment. The Agency had recently become official and she had just completed her training as an A-6 level Agent. During her training in the previous three years, Stephanie had been a bit unruly and known within the tighter circles for being especially kinky. It was a novel and taboo subject in her hometown area and she was used to being sought out in secret or seducing her fellow Agents in training. Very rarely did anything last very long, as those looking to be dominated by a woman broke easily and those who weren't didn't measure up enough for her to willingly submit. Either way, her partners had been many and brief. It kept her from growing bored.

Her proclivities were so exciting to the Agents stationed in her hometown, that she was surprised to find someone else familiar with the lifestyle. So, Richard was unique, like her and they both stood out in the crowd of vanilla lovers. As her training manager, he'd been in a position of authority over her and nothing, not even the private lives of his trainees, went unnoticed by Graninger. Her propensity for eating men for breakfast, lunch and dinner, was a hot topic and her personality intrigued him.

She had been wild and untamed, and he was dominant and merciless. Upon some of their first conversations, she'd hated the way he directed her conversation and had tried to rebel in small ways whenever she could. It did not slip by him however, and he pushed his authority upon her and forced her to submit when giving him reports of her training exercises. Always demanding so much of her, to the point where she felt helpless to resist and assert her own identity. It got to the point where she'd willingly given him everything he wanted, and his praise was like the light of the sun upon her making her bloom.

With everyone else, she was a cold-hearted bitch, but Graninger could get her to go through all of her combat exercises 20 times over in an hour if he so desired it. Needless to say, the two were connected, a perfect match, and when they became lovers, Stephanie grew and blossomed beyond what she would have been capable of under her own steam. So, naturally, when he made plans to leave to an assignment up north, she felt as if he were abandoning her. He wished for her to stay in that small city where she'd grown up among a bunch of amateur nobodies. Where her new promotion to A-5 would mean something and she'd be able to make a difference. Put simply, he'd grown bored of her. And she'd learned all she could from him. Love or anything like it could not keep them together any longer.

There had been a lot of pain and anger after he left and as she was assigned to first one case and then another, the stress of her emotions and pining for her ungrateful lover became too much. It was either 'get rid of them' or 'lose her status as a rising star in the Agency'. Driving the car now, zooming past other drivers and her hair blowing in the cold night wind, she remembered that pain. Crying at night alone in the bed she'd shared with Richard, aching as if her heart were being torn in half all over again, months after his departure. And then the hatred of him, the absolute loathing for the mess he'd left her in, forcing her to be strong without him after he'd demanded her complete dependency for years. How cruel! It all seemed distant now, like a small light flickering far away and barely noticeable except when she concentrated on it.

As the Nathan case had come to a head and Maggie was inserted into the kid's brain, she'd began to worry about her future cases and others she might be working with. Her emotions were slowing her down and she couldn't bear to replace the love she'd lost - it would have all been phony anyways; no one could ever compare to that man. Those emotions needed to be gotten rid of and shut off somehow. She needed to stop feeling.

A lot of the first steps in the EDP that she developed had to do with meditation, and clearing her mind. Studying cognitive psychology, she was able to add a more scientific and mental approach to systematicall separating her psyche from itself and constructing internal walls. And finally, to help grease the wheels and broaden her focus, she'd utilized entheogens - psychoactive drugs to affect her chemistry and help the process along.

Now thinking back on it, she'd had the most success in constructing the different layers while using Atropytamine. She needed to go back to the basics to reestablish the crumbling layers and that would be done most efficiently if she had the drug in her system. But she hadn't needed to take any since the first year of becoming the Lead Agent on Gwen's case and thus didn't have any back at her base and most certainly none on her at this moment.

Her attention was drawn back into the car once she heard Jason asking questions about the transfer process. Something about the questions themselves made her look at him in the rearview, just in time to catch him shrugging at Eric. 'Just innocently curious' my ass, she thought, giving him a penetrating look. What are you thinking of, my little pet? What plots are brewing in that beautiful, curly head of yours?

Whatever. All she knew was that if the bastard got between her and her goals, he wouldn't be alive long enough to mourn the loss of his suit. As soon as they got a moment alone, she'd make sure he knew that - and she'd let him know WITHOUT losing her focus! She couldn't afford to lose any more ground or to play any of these silly games. The less...intimate contact she had with Jason, the better, and she was certain he'd gone on failing long enough. He'd just been demoted to A-6 but she'd make him feel it with a crushing stiletto heel.

As they entered the airport, she swerved around back, the wheels gliding over the smooth runway to where the smaller, private business jets were kept. The car skidded sideways for several meters as she came to a rushing stop beside the line of jets and she left her seat barely blinking an eye at the smell of burned rubber. Turning to Benoit, she wondered if she might ask him about the drug but there was really no reason for him to be carrying it. Besides that, she got the feeling that ever since Jean's death, he had a shorter fuse in regards to her and her partner - he had to make up for the lack of glaring dislike being expressed for them, afterall. Then she glanced at Eric and began wondering about his seemingly bottomless pockets. Would it be untoward for her to ask him about it? Probably. But she really didn't have a choice. She was losing her mind and she didn't trust herself to survive the plane ride without slipping even further.

Coming around the car to his side, she touched his arm as he began to approach the planes, and stopped him. When she spoke, her voice was low so as not to be overheard by the other two men and in a firm monotone. "I'm sorry to bother you, and I know this is probably unprofessional of me," God, she was such an idiot! Focus. "But I was wondering if there was a slight chance you might have any Atropytamine or any other psychotropics on you, that I might be able to borrow." Please, don't ask me to explain why. PLEASE. Don't ask me to explain why.

[Tartra]

Jason saw a look in her eye he’d never thought she was capable of: desperation. It was faint and restrained and he might’ve been wrong, but he doubted it before he accepted that answer. If she’d been angry or happy or sad, he would’ve been great with calling himself stupid and going back to swearing his everlasting hatred for his target, but he knew what that was. It was the one thing he’d always be able to recognize, and the only part that tore into his mind more than discovering she had an emotion or two after all was not getting to hear what she was asking the A-1 about. But he heard his answer.

“Standard issue, Stephanie. Have a box, try not to overdose – the usual jazz.” And from out of his left pocket, Eric pulled out a small, rectangular carton, barely bigger than a glasses case and bullshit because there was no way in hell he had room in there for that plus the millions of files he seemed to summon on an hourly basis. And then he went on to come out with another sheet, handing it to her moments after the carton was in her hand. “You’ve gotta sign for these puppies, but no rush. I know where to find you.”

And off he went to the great steel jet whistling airily to himself, dropping back into a world of his own. Jason had noticed that, too. In the Elmira lab, the man’s attention had been on nothing but them. By the time they’d gotten into the car, he could’ve sworn the A-1 had been with them forever, even when he’d chopped a solid rank off of Jason’s throat. Now, though... Eric’s mind was elsewhere. He threw a smile to him and Benoit as an afterthought when he passed instead of as an instinct like before. It had something to do with that pet project of his, Jason figured. The split attention could cause some problems if Eric truly wanted to help take on his target and Alexander, but in the meantime, so long as they were only travelling – and as long as he kept the Flunky’s dead body dancing on those strings – he could do whatever he wanted.

Jason stopped him before he got too far away.

“Sir? Eric?” And a glorious grin was his answer. “May I ask what just happened?”

“With what? Stephie?” Eric chuckled. “I try not to pry into other people’s lives. You can ask her.” No sooner had that come out of his mouth than he burst into a lovely, sing-songy tune of, “Oh Benny! Got a question or two for you –”

“Piss off.”

“You’re adorable! So – any new info on the thing that slaughtered Jean?”

“...”

Fine. He would ask her. As Eric threw Benoit into a too-strong hug that could’ve crushed him, dragging his prisoner off to chat about the wonder that was Alexander, Jason went to his lead, not sure what he should be saying to her but convinced it had to be something. Until those papers were in, he was still an A-5 and he still had full rights over his suit, which meant he needed to know if something was going on behind the scenes. That made sense in his head, at least until he was standing in front of her. Then his careful work at trying to look as bored of the world as she was broke.

“Are those –” No, it was a waste of time to ask that. He wasn’t dumb. Out of everyone here, he was the authority on what she had in her hand. “Can I ask what you’re planning, boss?” It’d come out stronger than he’d meant it to. Pent up anger, he supposed, and maybe relief at finally being on the other side of an interrogation. “It's not that I don’t trust your dedication, but it’s sending a mixed signal when you say you want our target caught but pick those out from Eric.” And what the hell was Eric doing with them anyway? “These aren’t toys.”

He wasn’t lecturing her. For one thing, he wasn’t suicidal. For another, he didn’t have the time to do it, because once his mouth had closed, he heard a furious shout of, “Stop standing there and get on the plane.”

The A-1 had getting under Frenchie’s skin to a science. He was giggling away, going on to talk about something Jason was too far away to hear and that drew an expression over Benoit’s face that nearly vowed the man was going to stab Eric in the eyes. He admit it: that would’ve been interesting to see. Jason had seen the Flunky fight before, but there was something different in their superior that he refused to share with them. What was it? A special kind of training? Some super weapon he’d stuffed down his pants with everything else? Whatever it was, he was wary about what would happen when it was finally revealed. Eric seemed nice enough, but sometimes stereotypes were put into place for a reason, and rumour had it nothing screamed ‘expendable’ to an A-1 like anybody who was a lower rank.

There was more to it.

He was going insane. Frenchie’s warning was... understandable. They were supposed to be on the move and sitting around to chat about the chemical cocktail she’d collected went against that, but the sound of the man’s voice shocked Jason into remembering he wasn’t alone with her. He wasn’t annoyed – God no. He stood up straight and tried feeling grateful to know she couldn’t try anything under their eyes, as had been so lovingly demonstrated on the ‘good’ car ride. But... he was well aware of how intrusive it’d been – seemed like, he corrected himself. It was as if there’d been an audience for a show Jason had wanted private. That was what had annoyed him.

This case was going to be his death, but rhere was no point in talking about this now. He had a very valid reason – extremely valid – for letting out a flush of frustration at what he knew she was going to do. Training with the suit put him around enough people on doses lighter than what she was packing and it’d taken days for them to double up on it, weeks to double up on that, and then every month was another addition until they gave up everything or collapsed in a frothing mess. And then there was the personal experience... Nothing related to his suit – he wouldn’t lie about that – but considering the crap he was almost expected to be put on, the Agency needed people who’d ‘proven’ they could handle something strong. His hands twitched irritably at the memory of it. No, he wasn’t suicidal, but if he was, he’d grab that box and stomp it to oblivion.

“Do what you want. I’m sure you know best.”

He didn’t stick around to convince her. He shouldn’t’ve bothered showing an interest anyway. If she thought she knew what she was doing – he doubted it, for once – he’d have to trust her. And it was all the more reason to stay away from her. His hands twitched again. With his goggles back but as broken as they could be, his body was reaching out for anything to call a fix, but not that, not again. He did what the other lead said and started off for the plane.

“You’re looking pale, Jason,” Eric said, almost as if he approved. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” He looked around. “Where’d Benoit...?”

“Inside already. He thinks he can ditch me, but it’s a metal tube that’s gonna be a zillion feet in the air. Where’s he going to hide?”

The tiniest flicker of loyalty came over Jason again. Since he’d been on a roll analyzing everything else, he trusted his gut when it decided he was making up for coming off a little cold to his lead. Even so, the strength that came with it could’ve been better spent than by saying, “He’s not in the most stable state right now. His friend died hours ago and you’re... wearing him.”

There was a short silence following this. Eric began to chuckle.

“You... are... priceless!”

“Pardon?”

“I cannot get over you,” Eric laughed. “You’re like that kid from that movie – that – uh... With Scrooge?”

“Tiny Tim?”

“Tiny Tim – that’s the guy! You’ve got this faith in everyone that’s – just... I don’t believe it. Really!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jason said slowly, “but I’m not sure I understand.”

“I know you can’t,” Eric cooed, ruffling Jason’s hair. “That’s what makes you priceless. So innocent! It’s great!”

He turned to leave, heading up the metal stairs to the jet they’d parked beside.

“Sir –” Jason was trying again. Uh... Why? “I just think you should take it easy on him. He’s upset. He’s worked with Jean –”

“For forever. Meaning eight years. And since the day our Alex escaped,” Eric said, nodding. “Ah, he’s fine. Tell me he’s mad about scuffing his shoes – that, I’ll believe.”

“That seems a tad unfair,” Jason replied. “I understand and respect –” The keyword. “– you’re allowed to recover Agents who’ve been killed in action, but when they’re that close, you can’t –”

And that was another keyword. At ‘can’t’, something flashed in Eric’s eyes. Not a muscle in the enormous man had moved but Jason was acutely aware of how much smaller he was than the A-1. Barely feeling his arm as it moved up to awkwardly hold his other elbow, he waited for the moment to die before he tried breathing again. Fuck, he hated when these people cornered him like this. Where the hell was Stephanie – his lead?

“Jason. You’re priceless.” It didn’t sound as warm as it’d been before. Now the air around the word felt... taunting, rather than admirable. The man was halfway up the steps with a hand curled around the railing. The lightest touch lingered between Eric’s hand and the metal, and somehow that still managed to reek of power and the Flunky’s strength. “I don’t know how you do it in this business, because I couldn’t believe in half the things you do.”

“... Sir?”

“Benoit. Come on. You feel sorry for him? Honestly? Come on – honestly?”

“Yes.” Jason fumbled over it. “I don’t pity him but... I sympathize with his loss. Jean and I didn’t see eye-to-eye –”

“He doesn’t care.” Eric was an inch away from rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He doesn’t.”

“... I...”

“It’s easy to misinterpret,” Eric said, chipper. “From what I hear, you lower levels have these weird... What’s the word... Feelings! Right! Lower levels have ‘feelings’. But don’t worry – you lose those at A-4. Mr. A-3 in there? Hasn’t had an emotion since the minute he was promoted. I’d say the same goes double for your lady-friend, what with that desensitization thingy of hers.”

“Emotion Desensitization Program.”

“Yeah! Nifty! Anyway, believe me when I say Benny’s about as bent out of shape over his ‘loss’ as he’d be if he got a hangnail. I’m almost surprised he still remembers Jean’s name.”

Except that didn’t make any sense. Benoit and Jean had gotten on like an old couple – Flunky had been literally dictating what his lead was supposed to eat, and he spoke with such reverence and idolization of Benoit. There hadn’t been an order delivered that wasn’t received with ready obedience and enthusiasm. And Eric said Benoit wouldn’t miss that? The more Jason turned it over in his head, the more he was convinced the A-1 had to leave Frenchie alone. He couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like to be the only two out of how many that Alexander had picked off, only to come back and nearly finish the job.

“If –”

“You can ask him,” Eric cut in. “You don’t have to take my word for it, but you have proof already. The only person someone like Benoit would mourn is his target, the same way Stephanie would only mourn hers. She hasn’t said boo about the rest of her team, has she? And how long has she been working with them? You’re new to the team – you don’t know. She and him and I and anyone else who made it to the high levels aren’t mentally capable of forming the attachments you young’uns take for granted. As far as being people goes, we ain’t.” He shrugged, pleased with this title. “That’s what makes Xander so dangerous to deal with. He’s as inhuman as anyone in our rank, but he’s figured out how to fake it and – worse – hide among those who still have a heart. Plus, he’s insane.”

He was confused. He looked back at where he’d left his lead to fiddle with the garbage she’d wound up requesting and tried putting what Eric said into his picture of her. It almost seemed to fit. It’d explain why she had no problem shutting herself down to build up the EDP – it wasn’t as if she’d keep her feelings by the time she took on the case.

What did that mean for him?

“So...” He took his gaze away from her and loosely brought it back to the A-1. “She doesn’t... they don’t care? About us, I mean. About their team.”

“Think of it this way,” Eric said. “Our teams are like a gun. You don’t mourn the bullets, right?” He smiled. “Try not to stretch the metaphor, even though I know that’s what you’re tryin’ to do. Just accept it. See my point for what it is and you’ll feel much better.” He laughed again, then headed up the rest of the flight. “So innocent!”

“Boss.” His voice was tired and he felt drained. Somehow, that conversation had taken a lot out of him. “Boss, let’s go. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

* * *

“Wine. I’ll have wine. Lots of wine.”

Alex managed to get it out before the waiter got away. Although Xander had heard, he didn’t say anything about it. He was probably imagining ways to knock the bottle over before any went down his throat. That was the plan, actually. That cork was going in the guy’s mouth if he couldn’t stop fighting.

Didn’t these two use to like each other?

He felt his lip curl at the sight of Osono spitting water on the table. Less than an hour with her and he was already calling it quits. Gee thanks, Xander. A sit-down meal was just what they needed.

“Yeah, bitches be crazy,” the devil in his head soundly agreed. “But I’m up for a show.”

He didn’t know who Xander was talking to, him or Rudy, but he doubted either answer spelled good news.

“So... Rudy...” Alex politely cleared his throat. “Why don’t you – uh... tell us about how you two met.” He didn’t care in the slightest. He just needed him to talk so Alex whisper away to Xander to his heart’s content. “Don’t mind me. I’m going to go over the menu.” And he flipped it in front of his face, hiding away from the two they were trying to keep in the dark. “So what are you up to now?”

Huh?

“What’s the plan?”

What makes you think I’ve got a plan?

“Xander, you are the most impulsive, reckless, thoughtless, careless, suicidally-thrill-seeking being I have ever met or even heard of in my life,” Alex murmured, “but you want your body back. I know you have a plan beyond ‘let’s see how badly I can piss off Gwen’.”

Right. ‘Cause everything I do revolves around her. Alex felt a smile tug at his face for a moment. He didn’t drop it in time for Xander not to notice. The fuck’s your problem?

“Nothing.” Well... “You know something, Xander? For a while there, I think it did.”

What did?

“You. Doing stuff. For her.” The smile floated back. “You never did say why you helped her in the first place. I had my reasons but –”

Don’t get any dumb ideas, Xander snapped.

“I’m not, because it makes perfect sense. Why else would you take what she said so personally?”

He hadn’t forgotten about Vestal. That hug, that dinner, that kiss... Sure, Xander hadn’t been awake for that last one, but he’d still, technically, been a part of it. There’d been a mood that'd built up between them that’d started with the simplest things. When Gwen’s nose started bleeding and Alex ran back to his apartment, who’d been the one to remind him – twice – to get a towel for her? It wasn’t a whole lot and the guy probably hadn’t even realized it, but considering who they were talking about... So maybe she’d dropped out of whatever crush she’d had on Xander. It didn’t necessarily mean he –

Hey, Alex?

“Yeah, Xander?”

You wanna fuck yourself, buddy?

That wasn’t exactly a ‘no’.

I’ll stab you.

“No, you won’t – Xander, okay, cut it out!” Alex got his hand back and he irritably jerked it away from the cutlery, falling deeper behind his menu-shield to mutter, “Sensitive, huh?”

The plan’s to cause a scene somehow. I need an Agent here. A high-ranking one.

The fuzzy glee in his stomach over having found Xander a heart sank heavily into a pile. It was a pretty obvious change in the subject – one that did nothing to torpedo his new theory – but it was incredibly effective. Alex had no choice but to play his role and let out a horrified, hysterical and hushed cry of, “What?”

Like I said, not everything I do’s about her, he answered. Like I said even earlier, everything I do has a reason. We need an Agent down here and I’m hoping something between these two goes on and gets me what I need.

“Xander,” he asked carefully, “are you trying to get us killed?”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

“Really?”

Not completely.

That made him feel better.

It should. Anyway, it’s not as though you have a choice, Xander said. This isn’t a crazy whim. It’s a tactical solution to our problem of getting inside the Charlton base.

They couldn’t do this here. Rudy... If he was an Agent – obviously the wrong type or Xander would’ve torn what he wanted out of the guy already – then, cut off from the others or not, it’d be dangerous to say anything in front of him. Alex was on his feet in an instant, losing control of his foot a split instant before pain went screaming up his leg, and turned to Gwen determinedly to say, “I have to go to the bathroom. Can you help me there? My foot’s still... bad. Uh... just get me whatever you think sounds good. The special. The first one. I’ll have that.”

[Guest]

As the small carton was handed over to her, Stephanie smiled in her internal layers, her fingertips burning and tingling as she grasped the box laying between her and the one thing that would ensure her continued success. Nodding her head dutifully at his instructions, she took the sheet of paper from him and waited with bated breath for him to inquire about it's use. He didn't. And she wouldn't tell him. No doubt he didn't care either way actually. None of them needed to know how badly things had gotten for her. In another 48 hours, it wouldn't matter.

This was her ticket to finishing this case without a hitch. If she took these drugs it would help her re-establish the control that was eagerly slipping from her fingers with every passing moment and it would help her remain firmly rooted to her goals. No more mistakes. No more impulsive behavior. No more emotions. That truly was the best part of this whole thing, was the erasure of the weakness within her heart.

She was busily looking over the papers Eric had given her - just a simple form, already filled out with an empty line at the bottom waiting for her signature - when Jason was there interrupting her thoughts and invading upon her privacy. All at once, she found herself getting angry with his questions and especially his tone. Who the hell did he think he was? She knew what she was doing and she didn't need him to look over her shoulder and make sure she was doing the things she was suppose to. If the A-1 didn't give a shit then Jason certainly had no right to pry and worry about her.

Besides, he just didn't understand. How could he even begin to comprehend what it was like for her the constant pressure and struggle that brewed within her- especially when her first impulse after he told her to do what she wanted was to choke his stupid ass until he passed out. It wasn't easy and she hated him for even assuming he was in any position to give her a fucking lecture. She knew what was at stake and she knew what she needed to get the job done.

Thankfully, he left her after that and she let out a small breath, turning the case over in her hand nervously until she consciously forced herself to stop. She didn't have a choice anyways. Everything was falling apart around and within her and she needed to do something. If Eric or even Benoit knew or found out how bad things were getting... Suddenly nausea overcame her at the prospect of being taken off of her case and a second after that she felt the urge to scream when thinking of someone else being assigned to capture Gwen. Her Gwen. Is that what Jason wanted? For her just to break down and be removed from duty? No, he couldn't possibly understand.

Watching him and Eric standing on the steps of the plane, she couldn't hear their conversation but found herself growing annoyed when she noticed Jason looking back towards her a few times. The little prick! What was he saying? No doubt Eric and Benoit had noticed something wrong with her behavior, but most certainly Jason knew something was wrong with her. He was an A-6 now, she really shouldn't be worried... He wouldn't dare to complain about her now would he? Oh, God and what if he was telling Eric about the things she'd done to him!? Was he filing an official complaint!?

No... No, he couldn't. He wouldn't dare. It seemed fairly plausible however, especially with how he'd finally gotten out of her reach long enough to say something to someone. But even as she sweated about it and fiddled with the case in her hands, she realized how absurd it was. No, he wouldn't. He just wouldn't. Calming down somewhat, she looked at the case in her hand and realized, from the panic in her frantically beating heart, that she needed these now more than ever. She could not wait a moment longer. Tucking the sheet of paperwork she'd been given away in her pants pocket, she ran a hand through her hair and let out a harsh breath before opening the case.

It opened like a small book with three small vials tucked in little straps on one side and four hypodermic needles about as long as her middle finger and half as thick on the other side. The backing of the case was a black material, something akin to velvet. Gently she ran her fingers over the vials, turning each of them slowly around so she could see their labels and she hissed through her teeth when a small tremor ran through her wrist. This insanity would stop now. Roughly, she took out the vial labeled Atropytamine and one of the syringes, closing the case and tucking it under her arm as she uncapped the needle.

Her hands were steady as she appropriated the right amount of liquid into the needle, even moreso when she realized how little privacy she currently had and the fact that she didn't even care. Just a few seconds and it would all go away. Just a few more seconds and she would no longer need to worry about forcing herself to stay under control.

One dosage - 10 ml - and she set the vial aside with the case as she looked for a vein. She glanced up for just a moment to see if Eric and Jason were still speaking - her partner appeared to have angered the A-1 from what she could decipher from body language - and she tapped at the inside of her elbow. She didn't have time to mess around with a tourniquet, but luckily she didn't have to as her aim got her precisely what she wanted on the first try. Without a hint of hesitation, she pushed the pump down and watched the clear, slightly purple/gray liquid fill her arm.

After it was done, she recapped the needle and started to tuck it away before a small hum began to grow within her body. A breath she felt the need to release was cut off as a sharp tingling began first in her skin and then her eyes. She remembered this feeling very clearly now and she would have smiled in satisfaction if she was capable of it. The effects of the drug made her feel both numb and hyper sensitive. When she looked around, it seemed nothing escaped her attention - immediately knowing how many jets were lined together on the runway, distances between them and the spatial relation between herself, the jet they were boarding and the car, her hair loosely blowing about her shoulder in the cool night air, even right down to some debris and sand that had not been cleared away from the smooth asphalt - all the information taken in at once and filed away in the appropriate slot in her mind.

Her body was suddenly standing more rigidly as if she was a collection of steel girders inside instead of bone and flesh, and her pupils were dilated leaving nothing but a sliver of grey-green iris around them. And inside she was a hollow shell. The worry and paranoia, the anger and shame, even the lust that had been haunting her inner layers - all of it was silent and dead. There was nothing but a thick cloud of nothingness where her heart should be. Perfect, she thought in a bored fashion as she put the vial back into the case and tucked it away in her back pocket.

As Jason called to her, she walked with a quick and sure step back towards the car, opening the door and reaching in for the paperwork she still needed to sign about Jason's demotion. Stephanie glanced in the backseat and saw her suit coat and hair tie, but left them both there as she slammed the door shut and approached the plane. Climbing the steps, she said in a hollow voice, completely drained of humanity, "Do not assume you know anything about me. Ever. And mind your place lest I stick you in a grave."

She felt nothing stir within as she slid past him making sure not to touch him as if doing so would infect her somehow. Her eyes swept over him, taking in every detail within a matter of seconds - the curl and texture of his hair, the worn and weary look on his face, the fibers of the suit he was wearing - before she'd fully passed him and entered the plane.

Within, there was a large amount of space between the seats, the aisle big enough to stand two people side-by-side and each seat as large as a comfortable leather loveseat with leg room to spare. Stephanie passed the galley as she walked into the main seating area and her eyes swept over everything in a bored fashion, internally hyper and making note of everything from the temperature of the air circulating through the space, to the wood grain of the panels on the walls. The rows of seats themselves faced each other, the first seats with their backs facing the front of the plane and the other two, occupied by Benoit and Eric, facing forward. Moving almost robotically, Stephanie took her seat to the right of the entrance and settled in as much as the drug in her system would allow.

When Jason was seated, she listened ambivalently to the sounds of the door closing and the jet starting to move on the runway finally picking up into the air. A small table was flush against the wall on it's side and hinged to her seat, and Stephanie pulled it out to set the paperwork down on it. Clicking the smiley pen once, she found where she needed to sign - not even a ripple going through her at the sight of Jason's wobbly signature - and she quickly laid down her name in a severe yet beautiful scrawl. She took out the other sheet Eric had given her for the medication and repeated the gesture, every line of her name in exactly the same spot as if she'd printed it out from the tip of the pen.

She was in the middle of clicking the pen back into place when there was a gentle hand on her shoulder. Through the fog that now consumed her, Stephanie felt a ripple of irritation as her sensitive skin took in every detail of the light touch - the weight of the hand, how many fingers were touching her, the texture of the other person's skin. Along with the contact came a feeling of warmth and along with that a surge of panic that she was feeling anything at all. It needed to stop.

"Ma'am, would you like a drink--Aaaahh!!!" the stewardess's calm and friendly voice cut off sharply in a cry of pain as Stephanie's hand whipped out lightning fast to grasp the other woman's fingers.

As a reflex, her own touch was not pleasant in the least as she held the woman's first three fingers and bent them back violently. Slowly, as if she was just now becoming aware of what she was doing, Stephanie turned to look at the hand she held, her eyes darkly tracing over every muscle and bone in the awkwardly arching fingers. She could feel the woman's muscles spasm in pain, the bones of her fingers creaking together threatening to snap with more pressure applied, and the woman stood beside her in the aisle whimpering and swaying in agony, begging in a soft plaintive voice for Stephanie to release her.

There was the tickle of something deep within, but Stephanie was so numb she could not decipher what it was - pleasure or discomfort, it was hard to tell which one. There was a moment when the stewardess's voice moaned sharply as Stephanie began to bend her fingers even more, seemingly effortlessly trying to break her hand, but it stopped as Stephanie suddenly let go.

The woman nursed her wounded fingers and Stephanie stared up at her with cold eyes and said in a completely dead monotone, her voice inhuman with it's lack of any hint of emotion, "Do not touch me. I'm not fond of physical contact."

The woman got a horrified look on her face and cradling her hand, rushed off towards the galley behind Stephanie's seat. Ignoring the muffled weeping she heard just behind her head, Stephanie moved the table back into it's spot against the wall and held out the papers to Eric, the sheet for the chemicals on top of the other paperwork. After he took them back, she sat back in her seat, her spine straight as an iron pole and every muscle tense and ready for action. Turning to the window, she looked out as the city lights grew smaller below them, nestled in a sea of black like the night sky reflected above, feeling nothing but bored and restless in response to the sight.

Eventually, the stewardess came back out of the galley, her hand neatly wrapped in bandages and she inquired about beverages or snacks for the occupants of the jet - and it was more than obvious when she made an effort not to touch Stephanie, her manner even more meek and tremulous when asking her questions, seemingly loathe to engage the female Agent at all. Pitiful and unprofessional, were Stephanie's thoughts as she ordered nothing but water from the woman casting her out of mind as if she were nothing but an insect. In her current state, it did not occur to her to be alarmed that she'd had the impulse to hurt the woman in the first place.

***

"Well," Rudy said smiling suggestively towards Osono at Alex's question - he received another glare in return as the woman began to play with her knife on the table. "It's a bit complicated but I used to live in a loft in the Financial District in Grissom but I wasn't making a lot of friends with the people my parents and brothers knew and kept pissing people off for some strange reason." He rolled his eyes and shrugged as if he just couldn't fathom why as if even the thought of someone not liking him was an absurd idea.

"Anyways, so, I decided to slum it for a while and moved into the same apartment building Ozzie was in. She was the first person I met and we instantly hit it off." From Osono's memories, Gwen sensed that wasn't in the least bit true. Rudy seemed at least somewhat perceptive in mentioning that people didn't like him, but from his first encounters with Osono, he acted like he couldn't tell when someone didn't want him around. Under normal circumstances, not knowing what he was, his persistence in following the young woman around could have been disregarded as him being an oblivious moron. But Gwen knew that it was all an act and Ozzie knew it to some degree as well.

It was like a game the two played, to not let each other know what they really knew about each other. From what she gleaned of Osono's personality, Gwen couldn't grasp why she'd put up with him like that for so long - she obviously knew he was involved with Agents somehow and even Rudy's demeanor wasn't a very good act and would likely fall apart if he was confronted. It seemed that at least half of the time, Osono fell for the "geeky little brother" act he played with her and the other half, she was thinking of ways to escape the chaos he always brought down upon her.

"Ever since then, we've been tight," Rudy said, casting a fond smile at Ozzie. Osono said nothing back, but Gwen got a very clear image in her head of Rudy being shoved into traffic and getting run over by a semi-truck.

As Gwen eavesdropped on Rudy and Osono's thoughts during his tale, she also listened idly to Alex and Xander's conversation behind the menu curtain he'd put up. She found herself blushing occasionally at the things they said but was especially wondering about Xander's current plan. What did he mean? What was he thinking? She blinked at Alex in relief when he stood and started to excuse himself - asking for her assistance - and Gwen tried to ignore Ozzie nudging her with her elbow.

"I can help you, Ben," Rudy said, hopping up from his seat before Gwen could even move. "I need to take a leak anyway. Ozzie, can you get me the Shrimp Crepe Florentine?"

"Eat shit, loser."

"That's great. Thank you," he said with a smile as if she'd said something more pleasant, again seemingly oblivious to the hate the woman had for him.He heard what he wanted to hear.

Gwen looked at Alex helplessly and pulsed to him,

I would join you, but I don't know how to convince Rudy not to go. He says he's gotta pee and he really does. It would be odd for me to come with you guys. I'll stay here and keep an eye on things, okay? We'll talk about this in a little bit.

Already, Rudy was ushering Alex away from the table, saying, "Come on, let's take a look at that foot, buddy. What did you say was wrong with it? Quite a limp ya got there. Heh, you're walking like that dude in District 9. Are you changing into an alien species perhaps? If so, I probably can't help you..." And on and on he chattered, citing this TV show and that, talking Alex's ear off as he lead the way to the restrooms.

Turning to Osono, Gwen blinked as she leaned towards her and said in her raspy voice, "I was about to tell you two to get a room with the googly eyes you both were trading back and forth. So, he's a kinky fella, huh? And sorry about Quin - he has difficulty understanding social cues, in case you didn't already notice."

"Oh, no, I mean, well," Gwen said uncertainly. "Well, I mean, yes, I noticed."

***

"And it was hinted in the final episode of season 3 that the Face of Bo was actually Jack Harkness," Rudy's energetic voice went on as they entered through the bathroom door together. "Can you comprehend the implications of that? It's absolutely mind-blowing!" There were three other men in the room with them, one at a urinal and another washing his hands and the bathroom attendant sitting on a stool by the sink. The sink continued the cream and green veined marble of the front desk and the accents of the larger rooms of the restaurant were repeated here in miniature.

As he stood at a urinal, Rudy went on, either unaware of whether or not Alex was interested or ignoring the fact that he wasn't. "And the Waters of Mars has got to be the scariest shit I've ever seen in my life, just short of a Xenomorph and a child zombie. Near the end, I think the moral complications about what the Doctor did to save those people from the base and changing history was extremely profound." As he finished and zipped back up, he gave Alex a raised eyebrow look and said with absolute sincerity, "Doctor Who is the best show out there, hands down."

The last man left the room as he approached the sink, whistling the Doctor Who theme song as he washed his hands and took the towel to dry them from the bathroom attendant. "So, Ben, what exactly happened to your foot, if I might ask?" There was something flippant and distracted about his voice as he spoke, almost as if he were just speaking to say something. Walking to the door, he nonchalantly turned the lock with a harsh click.

"Sir, please, don't do that. Other customers will need to..." the elderly bathroom attendant said in mild protest. As Rudy turned around, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what could have been a cross between a beeper and a lighter. As his hand smoothly and quickly raised to point it at the man, a small mechanical clicking resounded and the thing grew with intricate parts and pieces to envelop his hand. In the seconds it took to have his arm up and aiming at the old man, the gun had fully formed around his hand with his finger on the trigger. A small whine started a second before an orange flash left the vertically oblong muzzle and the light left the gun to disappear into the old man's body.

"Grk!" was what came from the attendant's mouth in a brutal cry as he seized up and fell off his stool, falling to the ground in a heap. Without missing a beat, Rudy turned from the door to point the gun at Alex, a severity entering his features that was not there before.

"Sorry, Ben, but this is the way it's gotta be," he said with a flash of that same geeky smile. He was clearly not sorry in the least. "It's Stacy, man! If she'd just kept her fat, clumsy, cow ass away from my phone! Everything I had was on that thing and she had the nerve to fucking sit on it! I mean, you should know - no one should ever come between a man and his gadgets. Luckily, I will be able to transfer any data from it to the new one I get, but it's unforgivable. Your girlfriend is gonna die, brah. And because I can't stand when people get all sentimental and shit and come after me for revenge or whatever, I'm just gonna clean up the whole mess this time and kill you too."

He smiled happily again, cool and steady as ever. "Any last words?" his finger inched over the trigger and the high-pitched whining started as the weapon charged to fire again.

***

Gwen was sipping at her water, following Alex's thoughts as he disappeared into the bathroom with Rudy and contemplating how to ask Osono to join them. How should she play it? If she came out with the whole truth outright, it might scare her off and she'd be suspicious. But if she fibbed or kept from her where they were really going and what they were getting into, it would be a betrayal of her trust when she finally found out and it didn't seem fair to ask her along when she had no clue what was really going on.It was a tricky situation and if she didn't handle it properly, they could lose her.

A waiter came up to the table with a basket of breadsticks and set them down before asking, "Does everyone know what they want? Or should I wait for the gentlemen to return?"

"No, we're good, and all set," Osono said with a rough smile. Pointing at Rudy's seat she said, "For that turd right there, if you guys have any stray animals running around out back, or some manure for the gardens lying around..."

An odd feeling came over Gwen then as she looked past the waiter. At first, she hadn't noticed anybody and there was barely a signature coming from that area, but as she stared and listened to Osono paint a fowl picture for Rudy's order, Gwen saw somebody standing there. Blinking, she reached out and probed the area roughly until she realized there really was someone there and her eyes widened as she noticed he was holding a weapon and pointing it at the table. Gwen ducked under the table with a small yelp as she felt the man in the suit start to pull the trigger, but at the same time, Ozzie rose from her seat and hurled her stake knife like a dagger. Catching the guy in the chest, he toppled over and Gwen raised herself up in her seat to look around.

Further downstairs, Gwen started noticing more of them and her panic levels rose as she counted at least 15 different Agents hiding in plain sight among the tables down below. 5 of them stayed behind to block the door and the other ten made their way to the stairs and started heading straight for them. What was even more disconcerting in this moment was that Ozzie saw them too.

ALEX!!! AGENTS!!! she pulsed frantically, not taking the time to notice that Rudy currently had him hostage as she sensed at least 20 more Agents guarding the back of the restaurant.

How did they know where they were? How did they find them? "Osono, we need to get out of here now!" she said to the other woman, but before she could protest, Ozzie had walked over to the railing above the stairs and was vaulting over it. Gwen ran to the edge of it to look over even as she sensed the other woman fighting with them, in full brawl-mode. She only moved when she sensed some of those guarding the door aim several high-tech guns at the upper floor and flattened herself to the floor as a boom reverberated through the space, glass shattering from impact and their table upturned violently.

XANDER HELP ME, PLEASE!!! she screamed in absolute terror.

[Tartra]

I cannot believe he’s talking while he’s taking a piss.

“I know.”

I’m offended. I’m actually offended. It’s like he took the guy code and wiped his ass with it.

“Just about.”

He felt his head shaking.

You know I felt sick when he got up? I don’t have your stomach but I still got a lurch when he said, ‘Let’s party in the bathroom, Xander!’ What a psychopath. He’d probably follow me to the stall.

Alex was pleased to find Rudy’s blather drowned out whatever he said. There was no fear of anything being overheard, and the old man in the corner could’ve guessed whatever he muttered was a humouring word for the other guy. It also gave him some time to go over the one thing he’d been able to understand in the midst of their new Agent friend’s rapid-fire nonsense: was he getting a limp? Was this becoming permanent?

“Speaking of –”

Dude!

“What?”

I just said it’s against the rules to talk in the bathroom! And eyes down, pixie puff. I don’t need that view.

What view? He’d been standing by the door with his head turned determinedly away from anyone breathing. Clearly, that wasn’t good enough. There was a tug on his neck and now he was staring at a grey spot on the white tiled floor. Scuff mark, probably. Someone wasn’t picking up their feet when they walked. If they kept that up, what with the dress code the restaurant enforced – tried to, anyway, but leave it to Xander to run into the one other person who couldn’t be bothered to get out of jeans – and the price tag on nearly everything the patrons were wearing, they’d ruin a perfectly expensive pair of shoes in a week.

“So when do I get to pee?”

Need to? Squeeze in. You’re all about sharing, right?

“I’ll hold it.”

Good man. Camel man. Man of camels!

“That’s going to get sexual really fast, so cut it out now.” Alex shuffled under his shirt and rubbed his arms. Shoulder ached, back hurt, but he was fighting it. With his probably jet-black, battered foot under the care of Mr. Invulnerable – less scary when he remembered the alternative was walking on it himself – his only real concern was that it was cold in here. He should’ve brought a jacket. He should’ve bought one back in Vestal. Too late now, but maybe there’d be a shot at shopping as they kept on riding to Charlton. As a matter of fact – “Hey, we’re probably going to have to get you clothes. I don’t think you’ll be dressed if they’re keeping your body in a tube with the others.”

... Are... are you... seriously thinking about me being naked?

“... No.”

Out of the bathroom. Out of the bathroom right now.

“It’s a legitimate concern,” Alex explained.

Out. Of. The bathroom.

“Shut up. He’s done.”

Oh, I’m so glad you were paying attention!

Rudy had not stopped talking. When did he breathe? Did he? Apparently not, because Alex hadn’t heard him break for anything longer than a switch to a different pile of stupid. When he finally settled on something remotely relevant to anyone – Alex’s foot – he was almost so grateful that he tried to respond.

“My foot –”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on.

Why? What was happening?

He shifted in his skin again, leaving his arms crossed against his chest as he watched Rudy go to the door. Xander’s control grew to something close to battle-ready long before Alex heard the click of the lock, but they were both sharp enough to see the toy come out of that pocket and Alex felt he was entitled to roll his eyes when the old attendant got shot. No – he didn’t mean it that way. He felt bad for the man who might have had a family he was going to see to celebrate his fast-approaching retirement, but... a gun? Rudy was using a gun? It was as if he was trying to insult them. A rocket launcher, maybe, would’ve been a nicer choice, purely because it wouldn’t’ve been screaming, ‘Here you go, kill me with this so you don’t get tired from melting my brain.’

Amateur. Alex could handle this himself.

Or he would have, if Rudy hadn’t let the last bit slip out.

He might’ve drawn attention to the freakishly unnatural speed Xander had once or twice before, but it came up now just as suddenly as ever. Without the slightest hint of any real movement, spurred on by what could only be called witchcraft, he’d gone from resting wearily on the wall with an eye locked onto the miserable – but kind of cool – pea-shooter to standing directly behind Rudy and slamming the guy’s head into the very door he’d tried using against them.

“No, I don’t have any last words,” Xander snapped. “You don’t talk in the bathroom! You’re creepy as shit, man! What’s wrong with you?”

He took no-talking seriously. He’d left his hand on the back of Rudy’s skull too, ready to smash it into the door a second time once he got tired of grinding the idiot’s face into it.

Gwen’s warning was like a bullet to his gut. Perfect! More of them! Alex wanted to point a finger, but there were so many curses that drew these people that it was literally none of their faults anymore. Xander had a plan, anyway. He doubted it went as far as how to safely get out of the restaurant without murdering everyone, but it meant he’d been prepared to handle this.

They hadn’t ordered yet. Last time, they’d barely touched their food. Eating in public was getting steadily more troublesome.

“She needs us,” Alex said. “They’re out there already!”

She can manage one or two. Xander was having a blast crushing Rudy’s head. I’m starting to like these intimate facilities.

New Agent versus ex-Agent and the old school was winning by a lot. So much for the magical gun.

The ground shuddered underneath them. Xander didn’t flinch, save to lean more pressure on his latest victim. The mirrors in the back wall swelled with anger, one of them cracking as a distant explosion went off near the centre of the restaurant.

Near Gwen.

“Xander,” Alex croaked, blinking as the tiny chandeliers flickered. “We have to go.”

If he was going to shake off the suggestion in favour of killing the man in his hands, the heart-slicing shriek of horror erupting in their ears put a stop to it. There was no last second conflict about whether he should finish the job or be by her side; as fast as he’d gotten to Rudy, he threw the half-cracked head away and snapped the lock open.

He’s fucked when I’m done, Xander promised, streaking back to where the table used to be but refusing to break his stride once he flicked his eyes over her. She’s fine there. His sights switched to the group stalking the front entrance. Them? Not so much.

“Watch my foot,” Alex said. “Xander? Watch it!”

Yeah, yeah.

And the first thing he did was launch himself in the middle of the five.

Guns everywhere. Bigger guns, louder than what Rudy had fired. At the back of his thoughts was Osono, who he’d managed to make out as a blur before he whipped past. They’d be in two different places for now. The small comfort in knowing she had powers was aided by the fact the other thousand attackers were spread out. Sure, they were rushing for the stairs to mount one large strike, but by the time that happened, Xander would be ready to deal with them, too. It was almost a safe way to see if the new girl would be worth anything in a fight.

Whatever the explosion had been, they shouldn’t’ve done it. The two glass panels lining the entrance had been left with jagged edges and enough space to fit a human head through. Alex knew this because the first neck his hand latched onto was pulled back, pushed ahead, and thrown onto that tattered lining. Xander’s aim was too perfect to doubt the first Agent’s fate. In the instant before he let go to dig his hands into the next pair, a sharp line split across the man’s throat, threatening to burst before his eyes left to pull Two and Three in for their disaster.

... Not normal. This wasn’t normal at all.

It might not have been the best way to describe him, but Xander was methodical when he fought. Good and violent – no one was arguing that – but controlled and precise at every turn. In front of Roasters, inside the alley, more than definitely in the Elmira lab halls, he moved with nothing but focus that bided its time until the crucial moment crawled from the darkness. The way he was acting now, the extra effort he was giving to make sure these Agents felt the life slipping from them... Slicing a throat on leftover glass? Grabbing Two by the face and crushing his head against the door? Not in the way that he’d done to Rudy – that’d been playtime, more or less. The force Twp met when his skull collided with the immovable wood killed him in that breath. Agent Three followed the same path to his grave, only harder and faster as Xander built up momentum, a torrent of rage built from nothing burning in his eyes as Alex fought to see.

“Hey – wait –”

He didn’t wait. He kept going, fiercer, deadlier, possessed... A field of heavy hatred had clicked around his body, clawing the remaining guards before his hands got anywhere near them. It wasn't until a savage howl of fury Alex hadn’t known his throat could make that the other two moved to get a hold on their weapons and aim.

Too late.

Agent Four made the mistake of locking eyes with him. That ended predictably, but Alex winced when he realized Four had been granted a mercy the others had been starkly denied. Only Agent Five was left to guard the entrance. From Four’s falling corpse, Xander found a gun and broke it against this survivor’s mouth. Silence. That was impressive training. Blood and teeth rained from Five’s lips, but not a sound lived to escape. It seemed like they were back to being targets of quality soldiers. It should’ve brought a smile to Xander’s – Alex’s – mouth or even a satisfied smirk, but it was heartlessly ignored as Five was knocked to the ground and held by the jaw of the gun in his hand.

“That answers my first question,” Xander murmured. His words rolled out in a softness severe as the haunting echo of Gwen’s mental plea. He slid the muzzle up to Five’s shattered face, drawing a trail through the red that it drove in, then said, even fainter, “Number two: who’s the highest ranking Agent here?”

Five said nothing. His dead eyes floated aimlessly towards Alex’s. That was it. He was still. The fact that it wasn’t out of fear and instead from steel-willed disinterest in his wellbeing scared him more than Xander’s unravelling patience. With the message received, Alex felt his hand tighten around the trigger, fire, and end another life.

“So... uh...”

We’ll talk after.

Shit. So something was wrong – more wrong, he meant, than getting ambushed by thirty people. Gwen’s desperation had brought Xander to her aide like the loveable nightmare he insisted on being, but that unleashed... rawness... But it was going away. Those five Agents, specially trained and waiting by the door, must have been the only ones at that level. Alex could see the roughness in everyone else – still dangerous, but not the same. He couldn’t imagine what this fight would’ve been like if they hadn’t been stopped before they’d started. The element of surprise had saved their ass again.

Now to fight the other million.

“Uh-oh! Xander’s packin’ heat! You assholes better be wearing a whole lot of hats.” The mighty smirk had returned to its throne. Playtime was back and there were bullets to waste. “I’m feeling headshot-y.”

Gwen, Alex heard him say. Doing okay up there?

* * *

Ring, ring.

“Huh,” Eric said, pleasantly surprised by his phone's screen. “Looks like we’re missing a show, children.”

Jason had had enough of shows. He pressed into his seat and relaxed in the privacy around him, trying to forget that phones weren’t supposed to be allowed on airplanes but betting the Agency had mastered some fantastic techno-babble to get their A-1 off the hook.

Eric was talking to him. Jason blinked and dragged himself back to attention, exactly where he didn’t want to be.

“Pardon?”

“I said it looks your girl got hungry.” From over his seat, above his head, Jason had a phone waggled at him. It was too far away from him to read, but obviously Eric planned on sharing. “Just got a note saying my boys found her at a restaurant.” Quick pause. “And then they shot her.” Another pause. “My mistake – shot at her. Geez. For a pack of semi-elites, they’re twitchy.”

Benoit’s head turned to address the man, gruffly demanding, “They found only her?”

“Nothing on ol’ Xandy yet. They just got there, though. It’s an automatic update. Give them a sec to – oh, they’re dead. He’s around.” Eric shrugged and stuffed the phone away, burying it under the cabinet of forms and pharmaceuticals already in his coat. “Here’s a tip for handling your minions: always keep a live feed running on their brainwaves. You can’t imagine the stuff it says about their status. No porn on the job in my ranks! I got a zapper to hit ‘em from across the globe!”

Frenchie was satisfied with the answer and shooed the stewardess away to better ignore everyone. Jason politely declined any service for now, too. Honestly, he didn’t think she’d puttering around them so quickly after what’d happened – which the other two couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge. It stood as a testament to the willpower of every Agent. Jason didn’t want to know if he could stand up to it. He liked his hands, thanks very much, and he especially liked sitting in a seat separate from his lead.

She’d drugged herself up, ignoring the warning he’d dared to give. But fine – whatever. If she wanted withdrawal, she could have it. A fuzzy thickness built up on his tongue as he remembered what that’d felt like to go through. How long would the effects last for her? She was supplied thanks to the admirable unconcern of Eric, but that could only get her so far. This case was going to end with him scraping her off the ground, and then her half-molesting him as punishment for trying to help. It was nice to see he was so appreciated, so why the hell had he gotten on the plane at all? He should’ve called it quits and slunk off. It wasn’t like it’d ruin him anymore than the demotion had.

Alright, stop. He wasn’t going to feel sorry for himself. He could do that later. Like it or not – the answer was ‘not’ – he had gotten on, and as long as he was here, he was going to make sure he had every detail he needed.

“What were ‘your boys’ doing around a restaurant?” Jason frowned. “How did they know where she was?”

“Dunno. Didn’t give the order.” Feeling chatty, quite unlike the rest of them, Eric went on to elaborate. “Every A-1 has a band of elites they train and lend out to other groups. Someone must’ve put in an request to borrow five of mine. And it looks like that someone’s getting fired for walking ‘em to their grave. And by ‘fired’, I mean ‘shot, then stuffed in a can and shipped to Mexico’. Y’know Hawaiians used to be cannibals? True story. It’s why they like Spam – perfect substitute for flesh. Yum, yum. Maybe I’ll the send the buttface there.” His entire seat stretched as he shrugged again. “Ah, well. At least those were my lowest elites.”

“Who gave the order? Why have them assemble there?”

“Dunno. It’s outside my circle of interest.”

Yeah. Expendable bullets. Jason got the idea.

His lead had made that clear. The way she’d talked when she first got on the plane and how she’d moved specifically to avoid the slightest contact with his being – because now he was suddenly hands-off – spelt out precisely what she thought about him. He didn’t say anything to her about it. He mutely looked on while she signed those papers, signing away his life without the tiniest twinge for anything that didn’t directly relate to her fucking Gwen. Screw it, then. Maybe he would leave when the plane touched down. He had his own crap to worry about and the less he had to deal with her, the better.

“When do we get there?”

“Charlton? A few hours,” Eric said. “Hope you don’t mind waiting for your pets to catch up, but I like to make sure my warzone’s ready before I’m at my last ten minutes.”

Hours. Good. Jason would be gone in no time.

[Guest]

Osono's army jacket flew up about her arms as she fell, landing heavily on her feet in the middle of the stairs where the newest batch of people after her were gathered. When she'd thrown the knife and killed the first guy, a few women sitting nearby upstairs had screamed and rushed from their tables. The people down on the ground floor however, had not yet become aware of anything wrong. That is until the explosion hit and shook the place down to it's foundation. As shattering glass deafened those inside the restaurant, a few more screams pierced the air and people were running from their tables en mass, abandoning their pricey meals for the safety of the exits.

There were three men currently on the stairs with her and Ozzie's fists lashed out with pounding strikes. She'd grown up in a rough neighborhood, starring in more than her fair share of bar fights and as a result, her fighting was a lot less graceful than Xander's. The first guy charged with his fists up and ready, blocking her first few hits. She didn't expend too much energy on those, but when she found an opening, all of her might went into it to knock the wind from his lungs and bruise his internal organs. When he fell, she stepped lightly over him to meet the other two. The second guy's face turned into hamburger under her fist in a matter of seconds and when the third tried to grab her from behind, she grabbed his balls and yanked and twisted them sharply. All it took after that was an upper cut to his nose and he crumpled to the uneven ground of the steps.

Glancing up to the second floor where the large explosion had landed, she tried to see from where she was if Stacy was alright. She was the first person she'd met in years that she could consider at least the beginnings of being friends - she didn't want anything bad to have happened to her because of Ozzie's problems. She relaxed and smiled when she saw the other woman poke her head through the large hole in the railing, her blue eyes watching the goings on with a restrained amount of terror.

Smiling to herself in relief, Osono turned back to the others who were quickly approaching her and she left the stairs. Looking around, she noticed that not all of the people had left the restaurant and some were huddling in the corners, using their tables as shields. She didn't want to start setting fires with innocents around, but sometimes she just had to make sacrifices. Her eyes drifted over the rest of the area and found Ben fighting several men near the doors and she smiled more to herself. Heh, go Ben! Whoo!

As she stepped onto the ground floor, she decided the safest way to protect Stacy from getting any more battered than she probably was, was to block off the stairs. She didn't want to take the chance of someone slipping past her and although they usually only focused on her, those guns hadn't been aimed at Ozzie. If they were targeting the people whom they found in her company, she couldn't risk depending on the fact she was usually in the spotlight.

The air around her tingled with heated current and her already short, blonde and spiked hair bristled even more than it already was. She slipped her army jacket off of her shoulders and held her arms out a little from her sides, her fingers splayed loosely. Inside her mind she imagined a match striking alight and the air near the stairs sparked with flame. The lacquered railings and steps caught fire, the flames moving upward to engulf the whole stairwell and nothing but the stairs, the flames reaching an invisible barrier when they got to the edge of the steps. The two still living men who'd fallen to her beating, caught fire along with the steps, lurching and screaming amidst the flames like souls being tortured by demons in hell. She could feel the swaying fire hungrily consuming the oiled lacquer and wood underneath, crackling and hissing happily in her ears and filling her whole body with a blazing warmth like the sun itself was shining within her breast.

With her back to the heat and light, Osono's hair seemed like it was made of fire as well and her dark eyes and sneering smile made her the perfect image of a devil. The men who were now merely a foot or two from her, hesitated at the sight of her - most of the others she'd engaged hundreds of times before were dead and gone now, so these guys were new. Even though they'd been briefed on what to expect from this case, other than the fire-retardant suits they wore, they had no other specialized training when it came to dealing with her.

"Come on, fellas," she said in her smoke-weathered voice, her dark eyes gleaming in the new dancing orange and blue lights. "Let's play."

That broke whatever spell they'd been under and three men charged her at once, with two others on their heels. Even after the energy she expelled to create the fire on the stairs, Osono was given a boost from the living flames themselves. Her arms and muscles surged with electric energy and strength was dragged from deep within her and propelled through every limb. Fists lashed out to pound into the rib cage of the first man, bones breaking and piercing internal organs. The second had her hand grabbing him by the neck and squeezing as her combat boot smashed down on his shin at a perpendicular angle, splitting the bone in half with a loud crunch. It wasn't much of a deterrent for the last 3 who came diving at her.

______

As the flames lit up, Gwen squinted and shielded her eyes as she leaned back from the railing overlooking the stairs and let out an amazed breath. Watching first Xander and then Osono fight, she silently cheered them on from where she was, looking around for any way she might help. It seemed they had everything under control, and the best thing she could do was stay put and out of the way. Her attention was drawn from the fight when a burst of hate came from behind her and she quickly turned to meet a seething and enraged Rudy.

Blood obscured one side of his face, dripping liberally from a wound in his temple, and he stumbled once or twice as he made his way through the debris of the old table towards her. His features were contorted with rage and she could feel it coming off of him in waves as he came to stand over her, aiming what could only be a high-tech gun right at her head.

"You both have been more trouble than Osono ever was. I'll be doing the world a big favor, taking you out," he said in a broken, angered voice.

The high-pitched whining of the gun charging made Gwen shrink back with fear and she held up her hand to fruitlessly ward off the blast. He couldn't do this! He was an Agent! If he killed her, no doubt he'd get in serious trouble from the Agency for eliminating her right? She couldn't imagine Stephanie letting him live after killing her precious target. She could still get out of this.

"Wait! You don't want to kill me!" she said suddenly before he could pull the trigger. Her voice reverberated thickly and filled the space with a slight echo. Her eyes almost seemed to glow an incandescent blue. "You need me alive."

For several minutes he blinked in astonishment and at first as his finger drew off of the trigger, she thought it had worked and he was listening. "Whoa... that's some Jean Gray/X-Men shit for a stupid little whore like you to be wielding," he said, seeing her clearly for the first time. Whatever effect her new "voice" had on Alex and Osono, it bounced right off of him without a trace. Except he was clearly aware of the attempt she'd made and realized she wasn't just a normal person anymore.

"Much too powerful to have slipped the Agency's notice. I bet you're someone's lost puppy, aren't you? You're right!" he laughed suddenly. "I don't want to kill you! That's like a beggar setting fire to a pile of cash!"

No, she did not want to be used as this guy's currency. At least he wasn't going to shoot her now, but she needed to find some way to get away from him. As she surreptitiously searched the debris around the railing for something to disable him, she pulsed to Xander,

I'm in a little bit of trouble. The Comic Con reject knows I have powers now. And I don't think those stars in his eyes mean he wants to let me go.

There was a length of wood from a chair leg just a foot away from her and she eyed it hungrily while watching him warily. If she made a dive for it, he would most certainly shoot her. But he no doubt was already thinking of contacting the Agent on her case - there was no way she'd go into Stephanie's hands without a fight. Without giving herself another moment to contemplate the repercussions of it, Gwen bolted from her spot by the edge of the railing, her hand grasping frantically for the carved, wooden stick. Rudy was there, wrestling her for it and even as she grasped it and thrust the jagged edge at him, he held it off before effortlessly knocking it from her hand.

"Sorry, Buffy," he said smugly, his one hand grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to her feet, while the other pointed the gun under her chin. "Maybe I should have said, 'I don't want to have to kill you.' But I will if you make this too hard for me. No skin off my nose and I've got a nice get out of jail free card." Glancing over the railing he could see that Xander had killed all of the men who'd been ordered to guard the door and Osono was just about done with the rest. It was definitely time to go.

"Say goodbye to Ben, Stacy," he said with a small smile as he began dragging her to the back near the restrooms. Nearby they turned a corner into a niche with a sign above it that glared a baleful red and said "EXIT". Rudy made it down the stairs with her quickly, only because everytime he got the chance he jerked her this way and that and the concrete steps lurched beneath her as gravity threatened to pull her down to kiss them. Out the back door into the fresh night air, there was a black car waiting and at least 20 more Agents approaching the building together. There were tables outside amidst bright and shining lamps, gardens and fountains decorating the scenery. The white and green tables were topped with hastily discarded meals from patrons who'd run away. No one was around to help her.

Xander! He's got a car! He's got a fucking black car! Please don't let him take me away! her internal voice had grown frantic as she saw in her mind's eye the contraption that Nathan had been put into that had been the vehicle for the banshee being inserted into his head.

She couldn't do that! She didn't want that! The muzzle of the gun against her throat was hot from being charged and she knew he was just as likely to shoot her on accident as he was to do so on purpose if she struggled.

Please, I can't...! I can't...! I'm sorry for everything I said! I didn't mean it! Please, just help me! Don't let her inside my head! practically weeping now in desperation, even openly as Rudy approached the men waiting by the car.

One of them had a syringe and he blinked in obvious confusion at the sight of Gwen, even moreso at the blood dribbling all over Rudy's face and clothes. "Gimme that!" Rudy said, quickly shoving the gun into the Agent's hands and grabbing the syringe from him.

As soon as she felt the gun leave her, Gwen started to flail violently, her arms scratching at his neck and face and her elbow whipping out to catch him in the gut. The guy was made of air and none of her blows hit, dodging her as if she were a simple child. Slipping past her defenses, there was a sudden prick in her neck and she choked as he stabbed her with the needle in the side of the throat, pushing whatever was in it into her body.

"This was meant for Ozzie, but I doubt she'll mind if I give it to you instead. Extraneous circumstances and all that," he whispered in her ear. She continued to struggle against his now crushing hold on her but all of her limbs grew weak and in a matter of seconds, she was limp in his arms.

Alex... I can't move... I can't...move...

As she passed out in Rudy's arms, he quickly shoved her through the open car door into the backseat. Looking at the man who'd had the syringe he held out his hand and demanded, "Give me your phone!" Roughly, he swiped the small slender cell that the other man offered and gave one final look at the building he'd left in chaos. "We're not to be followed under any circumstances."

"Understood, sir," the man said dutifully as Rudy ducked into the car and slammed the door shut. There wasn't even a breath of a second as the car peeled out and drove off into the night. Dialing on the new phone he'd acquired, Rudy shoved Gwen's body over carelessly to give himself more space in the backseat. Waiting for someone to answer, he touched the wound on his head gingerly and played with the now gummy and congealing blood decorating his fingertips.

"Hello? This is a private line - who is this?" Noel asked in an irritated voice.

"Yeah, hey, it's me, sweetcheeks," Rudy said, returning to his pleasant, dorky tone of voice.

"Quin! Goddammit! Where the hell have you been!? I've been sending you text messages nonstop but your phone was disconnected. Then I got your signal at La Madeleine's and sent the team there - I hope that's what you wanted."

"Yeah, that was perfect, babe," he said with a smile into the phone. He could always count on her to know exactly what he wanted without him having to say it. After years of working side-by-side and sharing more than just case files between them, she better have adopted some relational intuition. "Noticed some flashier guys mixed in with the usual muscleheads - somebody upstairs suddenly fond of us or what?"

"I specially requested those men," she said with a bit of reservation. She'd been putting all her money in the pot with this particular run-in. "Why? Did they do well?"

"Heh, well, they're dead. Just like everybody else," he smirked as she let out a resigned sigh. He glanced at the young, unconscious woman who occupied the backseat with him, her body shoved awkwardly against the door. "At least I didn't come away empty handed."

There was a long silence and he smiled again. "....You-You HAVE HER IN CUSTODY!!??" He pulled the phone from his ear as the speakers screeched with Noel yelling into the receiver. He giggled slightly to imagine her reaction sitting at her desk, practically hyperventilating at the idea of him finally capturing the target. It was almost a shame to let her down yet again.

"Not HER her. Encountered somebody else's targets I think. I need you to find out if there are any cases currently on the run - a guy and a girl. The guy moves like fucking Batman and has a crazy temper over stupid shit. And the girl has mind control powers or something."

This was their usual pattern. Most of the time, Noel was the one in charge and took over directing him and punishing him, but every once in a while, she allowed Rudy to take this tone of voice with her. "Get the girl's Lead on the phone. I've got a present to deliver and I need to know where to send it."

***

Stephanie tensed even more than the Atropytamine made her at the mention of Gwen at a restaurant, her eyes hollow and fixated on Eric's phone. The numb cloud within her shifted and swayed when he said she'd been shot and as panic threatened to rear it's ugly head, Eric amended the statement to say she'd just been shot at. She was sitting on the edge of her leather seat as she waited for more news on Gwen - annoyance fluttering to a small degree as Benoit inquired about his own case - but a few minutes later all hope of more information was cut off as he reported all the men dead. Of course. Alexander. Gwen's hero coming to the rescue.

It was a small comfort knowing he was there to protect her from stupid Agents acting trigger-happy but at this point, she didn't even know if Gwen was dead or alive. She wanted to feel angry about it or at the very least distraught or worried, but other than those first small ripples through her internal layers, there was nothing. No comfort in emotions to fall back on to release the pressure her agonized thoughts put her through. Inside her head, there was nothing going on except taking in and analyzing information. The rest was emptiness. It was like drifting in the middle of nothingness, blackness surrounding her. It's alright, she thought dully, even her internal voice lacking any emotion. This is exactly what I asked for. It's a good thing. Less chance for mistakes to be made based on emotionally charged action. It's a good thing. It's a good thing.

Even as she was trying to convince herself of that, she knew she couldn't just sit there and not find out what happened.

"Sir," she said respectfully to Eric. "If I might borrow your phone? I need to know how it went and if Stewart is dead or wounded," she tried not to listen to the dead tone in her own voice, tried not to be scared by it, especially when it regarded the possible death of her target. The more professional I am, the less they have to worry about me not being capable. It won't do to get panicky now if it turns out nothing is wrong.

As accommodating as ever, Eric handed over his cell phone and she automatically began putting in the phone number for her base. Her hand ran through her straight blonde hair, pushing it away from her ear as the phone was fit snugly against it.

"Hello, this is Stephanie March - is there any information currently coming in for the Stewart case--" she paused as the person on the other line interrupted her, spouting off new information.

"Yes, there is an Agent Quin trying to contact you. We've been calling your phone for the last 15 minutes."

Stephanie got an image of her suit jacket back in the backseat of the car, her phone chirping merrily from her pocket. How had she missed that? It would have been useful.

"Oh? Well, I'm here now. Put him through." The man assented respectfully and the line went silent for several minutes while Stephanie sat staring blankly ahead. When she heard the man come onto the line, she immediately jumped into the conversation. "Agent Quin? This is March on the Gwen Stewart case. You have some information for me?"

"Heeey! Stephanie! The little hotty from training camp, yeah? Remember me? I had a habit of wearing Star Wars T-shirts to training practice and you let me cheat off of you on a test once. We had a fling once or twice. Remember?" Rudy said on the other line. He still had the same voice, and even if it weren't for the memories he listed off, she would have remembered him from that alone.

"Yes, Rudy, I remember. You cheated off of me? When?" She did not remember that and she would have been annoyed if it were possible. A nervous laugh came from the other line and she decided to drop it. He was such a manipulative little prick - two could play at that game. If he wanted to reminisce, well, she could do that. "And if by 'fling' you mean tying you down and making you squeal like a pig when I used my stilettos to crush your--"

"Anyways," he interjected uncomfortably, clearing his throat to cover his now unsettled tone, moving beyond the current topic smoothly. "Long time no see. Always knew you'd make it big. You had the drive for it. While I was chasing down my own target, I got beaned in the face by another and thought she probably belonged to somebody. Are you missing someone special?"

Stephanie expected to feel something then - relief, hope, surprise, ecstasy - anything at the hint in his voice, but the emptiness stared blankly right back at her. "Yes," she said in a deadpan voice. "You found Stewart? Is she alive? Is she wounded?" There wasn't any concern either inside or out - she was merely gathering necessary information.

"The girl who tried to play a Jedi-frigging mind trick on me? Yeah, she's peachy. Grabbed her out of convenience. She's currently wrapped up in chemical restraints and I need to know where you want her deposited."

Stephanie hesitated. Grabbed her out of convenience? Instead of his own target? Rudy had always been a second-rate Agent even back in training but she doubted this was for free. "What are you asking for?"

"Heh, I'm that transparent, eh? Might as well be as blunt as possible then. I'm going to be in a bit of trouble real soon - broke somebody else's toys, somebody important and blahblahblah - so I may need you to use your influence to get me off the hook." Before she could respond to that he added, "We'll talk prices when I meet you where ever, 'kay? Now where do you want her - under the Christmas tree or beside the menorah?"

She would have laughed if there was any way she could connect with happiness right now. He thought she had influence? Was he high? Knowing him, it was probable. So, he'd been the one to order the A-1's elite Agents to that restaurant. By Eric's own mouth, that person was going to die anyways, so she didn't see the dilemma of Rudy's deal. She wasn't attached to his or anyone's memory enough to hesitate when killing them to get what she wanted. Basically, she was getting this for free, regardless of what Rudy imagined was going to happen.

"I'm on my way to Charlton right now," she said, glancing at Benoit. "Is Alexander following you?"

"Who? Oh, you mean her psychotic boyfriend? No, I've got men blocking the way. He might have wrestled with 5 no problem, but there's no way he's gettin' past 20. He's a fuckin' dead man."

Either Rudy had not heard of Alexander or he was just too stupidly arrogant. The mere fact that he gave the man the title he did let her know that Alexander would indeed dog his trail the whole way just to get Gwen back safe and sound. Fine, she wouldn't have to go out of her way to help Benoit. Besides, there were transfer facilities in Charlton and it was the most convenient course of action. "Bring her to Charlton. I'll be there waiting for you."

"Yep, yep. And remember our little deal, Steph," he said with a gleeful smugness. How could she forget? She might get the chance to carry out his execution order. If the drugs wore off by then, she might even get the chance to enjoy it. With that, she hung up on him and handed the phone back to Eric calmly.

"Thank you. That was definitely...informative," she said in monotone as she settled back into her seat. "I didn't realize Rudolph Quin was promoted to Lead. Whoever signed the paperwork for that decision needs to be shot in the face. I only knew him in training and he was always a lazy, narcissistic, fuckup but it doesn't sound like he's changed one bit. He should have never made it above A-6 rank if allowed into the Agency at all."

She sighed without inflection and leaned upon her armrest. "Anyways, apparently, he's captured Stewart - while leaving his own case behind for whatever imbecilic reason - and he's going to meet us in Charlton with her. Since he's under the delusion that his regular A-5 and A-6 Agents can hold Alexander off, no doubt he's following close behind as well. Just a minor alteration of the original plan but it's still all going as we originally set up. And at least she's still alive."

Again, there was no relief or excitement or happiness in response to that thought, not even inside behind the walls she'd put up. It caused her to glance blankly at Jason, but only for a moment as she continued. "Aside from trying to use her as leverage - even if I wanted to try to convince you not to punish him for having your men killed, I don't understand why he thinks I would be successful; he obviously doesn't know who he's dealing with - his own target, Osono, might be involved now too. Not sure. From what I remember of that particular case back when I was part of the team gathering intel on her, she didn't make social attachments very well. Now that Rudy's out of the way, and fully distracted, she might take the chance to disappear again."

She ran her hand through her hair before taking another sip from her water. "Still, it might be best to prepare for her. Lest we get burned."

[Tartra]

He might not have been the fastest at assessing a situation, but Alex knew this fight was over. The restaurant was littered with fallen threats, lined by men and a few women draped across tables or collapsed on the rugs. With ten left on the lower floor – nine –and that on the verge of being handled –

She’s hogging them!

Of course she was. What a whiner.

“You’ve had enough fun,” Alex said. “You just finished killing five super-Agents in under a minute. Let’s go to Gwen.”

Gotta get the lock off this dumb gun. I hate how protected these shits are.

“Or we’re going to Gwen to make sure she’s okay. She didn’t answer us.”

One second, one second...

Alex’s hands were fiddling at a latch and knob at the base of the gun’s grip. Xander was trying to unscrew something and taking his dear sweet time.

“Would you hurry up? There’s no point in you fighting them,” he said. “They’re not a challenge, right? They’re boring?”

What planet were you living on where I turned down shooting somebody in the face? Chill out, fruit fish. It’s almost off.

“Xander!” Another ‘one second’ as his hands kept twisting. “It’s not like she’s doing anything you didn’t get to do!”

And then the stairs lit on fire.

He was far enough away for him to’ve stayed where he was without his face singing from the heat, but the sudden burst of light and sharp crack as the railing went up in a blaze had him trip back a step. His other foot stayed where it was – holy crap, that’s awesome! She’s my hero! – and it kept him from running too far, but it didn't meant he couldn't see the shadows twisting in agony and hear the hellish screams from within.

“There’s people in that,” he said, staring stupidly at the flames.

‘Agents’, not people. Looks like a fun barbeque, Xander said. Broke a nail, by the way. Sorry. Sort of.

“It's fine...” Not this. He was torn listening to them shriek. Osono was standing in front of it, proud as though she’d accomplished something, and she gave no sign of remorse as she moved on to the next wave of attack, and while he should have been too used to Xander’s handiwork to get a groan from his stomach, the heavy weight of his nausea was there. She was brutal. She almost surprised him when she didn’t pull the other three into the flames as well. “My God...”

What’s your problem?

What was his problem? Could he not see what was happening?

“She murdered them,” Alex cried. “She – just...”

... Uh-huh... There was a click and then the gun was nestled firmly in his palm. I’m gonna murder those other guys now. Close your eyes if you’re squeamish. I don’t need to see to shoot.

That was completely different! As far as Xander went, ‘soul’, ‘conscience’, ‘mercy’ and ‘morals’ were as real as unicorns and leprechauns – a nice thought, but exactly that. Osono was someone who came from a normal society and given three people their final breaths without a thought about it. His throat clenched as the shadows stopped moving, falling into a pile of charcoal as the new girl crushed ribs and broke lungs. Then she was finished with them, waiting for the last three, but as they leapt towards her, hurling themselves over the pile she’d built at her feet, a different type of light went off. Muzzle flare. The ring of the gun was a fatal melody, too familiar from the years the Agents had shot at him. The last three fell with chunks of metal lodged neatly in their temples. Xander was very happy. He said as much when he dragged Alex up to her.

“Damn, Sparky.” He was grinning. “You should learn how to set bullets on fire. It's not gonna make them any more dangerous, but it’d be really, really cool.”

Gwen’s pulse cut off the answer Alex had been ready to give. The way she worded it set him on edge. Rudy knew she had powers? As in... she’d used them and they hadn’t worked?

“If you’re done torturing your victims,” he said, wiping Xander’s happy look off his face, “I’d like to use the stairs.”

Do you see the problem when people stay alive? The one time I don’t rip somebody’s head off, they start raining chaos the minute my back’s turned. Alex’s head moved until he was looking at a wall that’d been shot to hell. A smashed table was under it and at the top was another broken rail lining the second storey. Forget the stairs. Let’s use that.

He began to walk immediately, enjoying the distance he put between himself and the pyromaniac. He’d been right about one thing: as far as extra muscle went, she’d be great to have around. Unfortunately, he’d been wrong about wanting her. Osono was crazy. Look at what she’d done! He couldn’t trust her to watch him while he was being transferred. Were Gwen’s powers failing her? Then she couldn’t promise she’d keep the woman in check. They’d be better off being two. It’d worked so far.

“You’re going to jump that?”

Wall climb, kid. See the gouge in the middle?

“No.”

Xander raised the gun up and fired a deep trench in the centre of the distance. With it empty, he chucked it to the side, nodded at his latest improvement and then said, See it now?

“There’s innocent civilians in here, Xander. You can’t fire like a madman when there’re innocent civilians.”

I didn’t do anything like that. Move over. You can’t make this on your own.

Did he argue it? No. With stunts like these, he was glad to hand over control. Alex watched as he was brought back a short ways and thrown into a run towards the railing. He pounded on the ground and drove into the table, jumping in the air and digging his hands into the gouge. It was too high for anyone – even him – to make it in one leap, but at the centre-trench, Alex got worried. They didn’t know how much time they had before Gwen’s trouble grew out of control, but he couldn’t tell the guy to go faster. He was already moving as quickly as he could for someone putting so little pressure on a wounded leg. He had to leave it hanging as he deftly brought up his good one into the gouge beside his hand, and then balancing on those toes, he readied himself to grab the shattered rail and launched himself the rest of the way. He caught it, held it, rolled through to his destination, then sat up in his spot on the ground with an effort more obvious than Alex would’ve liked. Especially now.

“You okay?”

Sure.

“Then move! Rudy has her!”

I’m pretty sure I know, he replied, losing the sharp edge purely to say, They went through in the back. Must be an exit.

Gwen’s voice came to them again. She wasn’t worried anymore. She was panicked, terrified. If they had a van, they were trying to take her away, and if they were taking her away, it narrowed down exactly what they wanted to do with her.

“Go! Go!”

Your foot –

“Run, dammit!”

So Xander ran, but not until he stood and stopped swaying. Even then, it was clear he was worn out. The weakness he’d been suffering must not have been fixed in Elmira even if the other things had, but there was no way Alex could sprint like he could, so the guy was just going to have to suck it up. And go faster – come on, Xander!

If you think it’s so fucking easy, you do it.

And then again, Gwen cried for him. She was apologizing now, as if the reason Alex wasn’t there was because Xander was still nursing his grudge.
“Great job, asshole,” Alex spat. “She’s blaming you. Are you happy?”

As expected, Xander had nothing to say, but there was a distinct increase in speed.

* * *

He could almost say he was glad for her. Someone had done their job for them. He was glad for himself too, because now he had no reason to stay. As added bonus, he’d heard what he needed to hear from her. After the flat greeting she’d given to Agent Quin – not a name he recognized – there was something about crushing and stilettos. She might not have finished her sentence, but there were only so many ways it could’ve ended. Jason was one in a line, then. He felt sorry for whoever came after him, but maybe his lead would luck out and find a lackey who enjoyed it. How about Agent Quin?

“‘Burned’, huh? And ‘Osono’ sounds like a familiar name.” Whoosh. More papers. This time, they were files. “Right, right. Her. She’s a wild one. No surprise Mr. Quin can’t take her. I bet you’d manage, Benny.”

“Of course I would. Fiercer cases have closed by my hands in time for early lunch.” He had another cigarette out. No wonder he needed a new body. His lungs must’ve been flooded with cancer. “Whoever this idiot is, ‘shit’ is not strong enough to describe him.”

“Don’t be so harsh, Benoit,” Eric said, grinning. “Doesn’t him living through a night of Xander score him any points?”

“I should think my target merely refused to kill a man so pathetically outclassed.”

“... We talking about the same ‘Xander’ here?”

“Then maybe he was distracted by killing your men,” Benoit told him.

Eric had a good laugh over that. Jason was waiting for Benoit to take offence to that, to hammer in what the loss was supposed to mean, but he said nothing. He turned back to his window and puffed away, unconcerned by the thought. Or, as Jason hoped, maybe he’d given up trying to explain it to the A-1.

“Sir... Eric.” The man had turn his entire body to look back. “Could I speak to you?”

“Chat away,” he replied.

“No – uh... I mean privately.”

If he’d made up his mind and he wasn’t staying anymore, he might as well make it official. He could almost hear Eric telling him to take it up with his lead, but she wouldn’t have the forms on her and the most he needed from her end – and about the only she’d give him – was a signature. So he’d talk to Eric. He’d have him sort it out.

“Sure thing,” the A-1 burbled. “Come on up and you can whisper in my ear.”

... Was he serious?

“Oh... Okay.” Jason got out of his seat slowly, waiting for some sign that said he was kidding, but – no, Eric let him walk up and actually expected him to whisper. “I need a form to resign from this case. I was supposed to contribute as an A-5 in possession of a suit. I don’t have that anymore. I’m wasted space.”

It quickly occurred to him that Eric didn’t need any explanation of any kind. The instant he’d explained what he needed, the sheet was produced and put into his hand. But he didn’t let go. It stayed between his fingers when Jason tried to take it.

“Not that it’s any of my business –” That spoke volumes about how little he cared, considering this was exclusively his area of management. “– but are you sure you want this on your record?”

“With all due respect, Eric, my record’s a lost cause.” He’d been perfect, now he wasn’t perfect, so what the hell did it matter? “This is better for her work, anyway. It’ll free up a slot for a different A-5 to join my lead’s team.”

“Sure.”

The form was his now. ... And it’d already been filled out. Not for him personally, but all the general information had been pre-scrawled on the usually empty lines. How many people asked for this sort of thing? It’d be rude to ask, so he vaguely promised to look it up back at headquarters. He took the form to his seat and set to work writing in the rest of it, brazenly ignoring any last-minutes cries of protest. He was going through with it. He’d be thankful in the end. If he had to start over as an A-17... Well – that wasn’t likely to happen, but if he had to, he could find some other way to be perfect.

Yeah. This was a good idea.

Or at least he’d tell himself that until he believed it.

* * *

“She’s gone.”

No ID on these guys. No phones, no computers, no way to communicate... And there was Xander, sounding so blasé. We’ll have to guess where they took her.

Maybe he hadn’t heard.

“She’s gone.”

There’s only two places they could go: on to Charlton or back to Elmira, unless there’s another spot Gwen didn’t find out about.

Alex waited.

“And?”

... And my money would be on Charlton, since everyone after us is probably on their way, too.

“Xander,” he said. “Gwen is gone. She is not here. They took her.”

He expected some smartass response over having pointed out the obvious three times or an almost psychic assurance that they’d have her back within seconds – minutes, at the most. Neither came. Instead, Alex had a thin breath leave his lungs and briefly felt his body ripple in guilt. Blunt and slow, his only answer was a quiet, utterly ignorable, Yeah.

His eyes burned. His body was drained. He kicked one of the twenty Agents’ unconscious arm and wanted to spit at it. A pack of them had been left behind as a... deterrent or something. It was clear Rudy hadn’t clued in as to who he’d been dealing with. It took six minutes for Xander to chew through the group, and only that long because he was tired from the first fight, from the run, from whatever was sucking out his energy, but that didn’t strike Alex as a good enough excuse. Forget what he’d said about the guy and Gwen. He wasn’t used to Xander having feelings yet, but guilt? He was sorry? Why wasn’t he chasing the car down? They’d done it a hundred times before!

I can’t. Those two words took a while for him to say, and they surged with resentment from having been stuck in a weak body. Your foot’s broken.

That was his defence?

Alex rolled his eyes and shot back a hefty, “What’s wrong? Pain suddenly too much for the almighty ex-Agent?”

You tell me.

Xander gave up control.

Collapsing went without saying. At once, the full force of what Xander had been keeping away flew back and stormed up his leg, crushing his gut under a steel grip and stabbing into his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. The ground scraped his arm as he mindlessly dragged himself across it, as if a part of him thought he could crawl away from the agony. The only reason he hadn’t instantly blacked out or been driven insane was because of a miracle holding it away from the same grief as the goggle-headache.

“Xan–” He choked on his breath. His entire leg spasmed as the torment roamed free. “Xander – stop –”

It was gone. Mostly. His leg gave another massive shudder as it slowly relaxed into movement. Alex laid there long enough to be sure there was no hope of catching the car now. He was beginning to think he wouldn’t be walking soon.

“What the fuck did you do it?”

Gave it a pedicure. What the hell do you think? It’s broken. Oh, broken! Right. By Xander, during the tantrum Xander had thrown. Come on. Get up. Let’s go back inside.

“For what?”

To eat, you idiot. You’re starving.

Xander had a new toy to threaten him with. The very idea that, at any moment, he’d run out of strength to keep his foot at bay brought an overwhelming obedience over Alex. He scrambled to his foot, crying out as his leg bent for the first time after that. He weakly caught his balance, then dragging his dead foot behind him, went in through the exit. There’d been a dead Agent holding it open for them. Good to know they could be useful at times.

“So that’s it?” He wanted to break down. “It’s over? She’s gone?”

The feeling he got as an answer was much more promising than before: disgust at the mere suggestion that’d he’d given up and the sight of his fist punching into – ow. Alex rubbed his jaw.

Stop crying. I’m getting her back. More to himself, Xander added, I owe her that much.

“Then how are we going to find them?”

Rudy? Rudy Quin? If that’s his name, we can look him up, he said, at Charlton.

“We’re still going?”

We don’t have a choice. You’re falling apart and I need my body back. We go there, we find where he went, we make the transfer... He stopped. More guilt, more loss, then abruptly nothing, as if he hadn’t meant to share that with Alex at all. Then we find her. Hopefully in time.

“That’s fantastic.” Alex said nothing else until he was back where’d they been sitting less than half an hour ago. Their table was destroyed, but at least there was another that had food on it. And look at that – untouched, like it’d been laid out for them. "Do you like fish?”

No.

“Me either.”

Yeah, I know. Where’d Sparky go?

“Who cares? Maybe she ditched with the rest of them,” he muttered. “We never decided she wasn’t an Agent.”

I thought you wanted her to come along.

“I changed my mind,” Alex spat, shovelling the halibut or salmon or... or monkfish – whatever – into his mouth, trying not to taste it. “That okay with you?”

... Well...

He could’ve slapped the guy. He settled for sneering, “You want her to come? Do you actually only do the opposite of what I want?”

I was fine with keeping it at the two of us so long as we went for a speed or stealth mission. In your condition, I can’t do either.

“Then the pain is too much?”

Pain’s got nothing to do with it. It’s nerves. If your foot physically shuts down, we’re fucked in a fight. No – we’re gonna have to try brute force on this one. It’s the safer way to play it.

“Who knew there’d be a day when you got cautious,” Alex said, wryly.

Yeah. Well... Apparently, there’s someone counting on it now.

Xander had shut himself away again. Alex couldn’t know for sure what he was thinking, but if the glimpses he’d gotten before were worth anything...

“How long do we have?”

I don’t know.

“Ah.” Alex turned back to his plate. “Shit.”

Yeah. Shit.

[Guest]

Osono could feel the heat of the fire coursing through her, singing it's chaotic song and filling her with life. She loved the flames, felt like she was a part of them, and it's dancing lights shone in her eyes with a crazy brightness. So when the last three guys charged at her, she was not only ready for them, she was filled with a desire to tear into them, to unleash the full masterpiece of the fire. Even through the crackling blaze that filled her ears, she did not miss the sound of gun fire and knew instantly what had occurred as each man fell to the ground around her.

Blinking, tension began to leave her body as she looked around the space and realized there was nothing but civilians left, those few too stupidly scared to run away. And of course, Ben. His praise was an odd thing to hear and she smirked casually, about to offer her own compliments for what she'd seen of his fighting style. But then all at once, he changed and addressed her as if he were disgusted. Victims? Torture? What...? Did he mean the guys who'd been trying to kill her? Was he seriously upset that she'd killed them, or was he mad that she'd burned them alive? Then why the hell had he--?

Oh. That's right. Stacy mentioned that about him. That whole, schizo and antisocial psycho disease, or whatever. As soon as that explanation came up in her head, she no longer felt angry at him for not understanding what the whole fight had been about - afterall, she didn't see anybody still breathing over in his corner of the room. And she was about to turn down the fire on the stairs when he was off shooting at the wall leading to the second floor and climbing up it like a freaking monkey man. Ozzie watched for a few minutes as he painfully dragged himself over the ledge through the busted railing and then she turned to the stairs herself to follow him.

In the minutes since they'd started, the flames hadn't eaten too deeply into the foundations of the wood, but a few steps groaned as she put weight on them, fire quickly growing smaller around her feet. It felt like something was falling asleep inside her. She wasn't getting tired, but it was something else separate from herself that was dwindling and fading away. And just because she was reluctant to let it go completely, she left a few straggling flames burning on the stairs, hissing and breaking through the wood happily. She ignored the charred remains of those who'd been consumed by the fire and also ignored the stench of burning flesh as she stepped over them.

When she got to the second floor, she looked around and just barely caught sight of Ben running down the small niche with the EXIT sign over it. She took a few moments more to look around for Stacy but the girl wasn't here. Maybe she was with Ben and they were running? If Osono was in their place, she'd do the same thing. In fact, that was exactly what she should be doing right now. There was also no sign of Rudy and everybody who was willing to put up a fight had been killed so...she didn't really need them anymore.

With one glance towards the way Ben had gone, Ozzie let out a harsh breath and ran back down the stairs. As she reached the ground floor, she grabbed up her jacket and slipped it over her shoulders and headed for the front doors. Stopping with her hand on the glass, she looked outside to see the fountain out front and the street cluttering with people. Some were from the restaurant - if the way they were dressed was any indication - but a lot of them were just bystanders gathered to see what the commotion was. Ozzie snickered to herself briefly to think of the explanations they'd try to come up with for tonight. The only sobering thought was that she knew some of the guys after her were part of the police force sometimes and they'd probably try and cover the truth.

Quickly, she made her way back upstairs - she'd at least follow Ben and Stacy out the back way and hopefully she'd get out without running into anyone important. Before she made her way to the small hallway he'd left through, she went to the large, shattered windows along the back wall and looked out to make sure no one was there. Gaping in surprise at what she did see, she stood staring for several moments at the scene of carnage.

The fountains and gardens in the back of the restaurant were now littered and accented by death, corpses strewn about on the ground amidst the tables and a lot of them laying limply in shrubbery and dipped in fountains as if they were nothing but discarded dolls. Alone among them stood Ben looking off down the road that swooped in close to the back of the establishment - it looked like it could have been for delivery vehicles or something - murmuring to himself. Stacy was nowhere to be seen.

Ozzie stood for several moments trying to piece together what had happened - obviously some sort of fight had occurred. Had Ben fought and killed all of those men by himself? It really was no surprise from what she'd seen of how he fought, but he couldn't have been down there for more than 10 minutes. Needless to say, she was more than impressed. But Stacy's absence and the way he stood there as if he'd lost something, set a whole new tone to the scene. Something had definitely happened to his girlfriend. Had she been taken or what? And why?

She'd been selfish. All this time that she'd been chased by these nameless people, she'd assumed it had something to do with her gift. Never before, while she encountered them time and time again, had they ever paid any attention to anyone else. She'd just automatically assumed she'd been the one they were after. It never occurred to her that they took regular civilians too. And that made her wonder if it was her fault. Did they take her away because she'd been close to Osono, or was Stacy just somebody important that they were threatened by?

After a little while, Ozzie's attention was drawn back outside the window to watch as Ben crumpled to the ground under his own weight. Her brow furrowed and her mouth hung open in confusion as she watched him helplessly crawl for a few seconds, his leg jerking and convulsing in agony before finally lying still. Jesus... The guy was really broken up about losing Stacy and for the first time in a long while, she felt something akin to sympathy stir within. Along with it came guilt when she once again thought about herself being responsible for Stacy's disappearance.

She would help him find her. Ozzie had no idea how she would even begin to do that as she had no idea who these people even were. But she could do something she'd never done before - next time they showed up to ambush her, or next time she saw Rudy, there would definitely be some interrogating going on. All they needed was one left alive and she had a few ideas already on how to get them to talk. They would find Stacy and they'd get her back from where ever the hell those guys had taken her. Even if it wasn't Osono's fault that she'd been taken... there'd been a connection between them. Osono had latched onto the pair out of desperation and Stacy had reached out to her in return. Nobody had ever done that before.

She was just about to leave the windows to head downstairs and join Ben - drag him up from the sidewalk and slap him around a bit to motivate him - but then he was getting back up, and limping towards the restaurant. Was he coming back up here to get her? That was also new. Those who got out of sight of her usually kept going and never looked back. Then again, Ben had seemed really psyched when he'd found out what she could do...well, at least half of him had.

Waiting by the back windows, she turned to see him trudging from the EXIT and wander to an empty table. Was...was he eating? "Holy shit..." she murmured with the beginnings of a smirk touching her lips.

Walking over, she stood in front of him by the table and folded her arms. "So...they take Stacy right from under you while you're flinging bodies left and right and you...stop for dinner? You're a class act, man," she shook her head and laughed without amusement. She unfolded her arms and leaned them on the table to give him a piercing look.

"Do you have a plan other than stuffing your face and moping about your girlfriend? If so, I want in. Those people were here for me, not you guys and it's my fault they took her." There was no room left for argument in her voice - she wasn't going to let him out of her sight and even if he somehow felt the need to just abandon Stacy to whatever fate they had in store for her, Ozzie was going to drag his ass with her as she searched them out. Hopefully things would go easier than that though.

"Unless you're still butthurt over me putting into practice 'kill-or-be-killed' on the guys who've been chasing and shooting at me for years." Or did he think it was 'cool' again? Only then did she remember that he was suppose to be mental and she wondered if it was really a good idea to sign up for a road trip with the guy who couldn't make up his mind about whether or not he liked or hated her.

***

Of course, Eric had Osono's file right in that file cabinet he called a "pocket". She would have been surprised that he had THAT particular file on him and she would have had the impulse to go over and root around in there to find out what else he had - suspicious pockets were suspicious - if the walls constricting everything that wasn't an objective observation allowed her to entertain such frivolities. As Eric and Benoit once again went off on another semi-related tangent, she left them to it and returned to the nothingness filling her, allowing herself to feel like she was disappearing.

That is until Jason spoke up. Instantly she looked at him, her deadened gaze narrowing at his use of the word "privately". More conspiring against her back? What the hell was he up to now? Luckily, she wasn't going to be left wondering, as the A-1's idea of "private" was a lot less accommodating than everything else about him. Surreptitiously, she leaned until she was on the edge of her seat and listened closely to the whispers traded between the two men.

He... He was resigning from the Stewart case? It was like lightning struck through the top of her body and she sat there, the numbness inside shifting enough to allow her to feel something akin to astonishment. Well, it was really no wonder. After all she'd tried to do during this trip to make him feel useless without that suit and now he wasn't going to be wearing it much longer. Plus, the fact that the case was practically over with Gwen in custody.

Still, there was something about the whole thing ...what was it? Was it disappointment? Anger? Excitement? No. She felt betrayed. How could he do that? He didn't even want to wait to see the case through to it's end - he was that eager to get away from her. And there was something else in what he said, a hint of something in his voice when he mentioned that she could find someone to replace him. Was he pouting about something? She tried to think over what could have possibly spawned this thought process for him...well, other than the fact that he'd been tortured and molested. Had it been the drugs she'd taken despite his advice and snoopy warning? It was just shallow enough for her to believe it was the real cause.

Whatever it was, as he sat down and began to finish filling out the form, she found herself breathing hard as anger started to fill her. It was a slow burning at first, but the more she thought about what he'd just done, the more enraged she became. A fantasy flashed in her mind's eye of her standing up, tearing the seatbelt from his chair and choking him with it while demanding he sign the fucking document. As the vision cleared away, and she looked down at her hands gripping at each armrest, she realized she could not allow this to go without him being punished.

As soon as she had the thought, she'd risen smoothly from her seat and crossed the aisle separating them, leaning upon his arm rest as she bent close to whisper in his ear. "What. The fuck. Do you think you're doing?" she asked as he paused while in the middle of writing. Her voice was soft and yet slowly the monotone was being shaken loose to let in the anger and hate quickly filling her body. "How dare you go above my head like that to request a resignation form. I am the Lead fucking Agent on this case and you need my clearance to even consider such a thing. As it is, I should choke you to death right here and now for disrespecting me in such a manner. And for what? Because you're still sore I didn't let you reprimand me at the airport?"

She was breathing heavily now, her whispered breath cascading on his ear and what little skin showed above the collar of his suit. Her hand reached forward, clawed and slightly trembling as it smacked in the middle of the sheet he'd been given. Her fingers contracted into a fist, pulling the paper with it into a crumpled mess in her palm.

"Even if you get a new one, I'm not signing it," she whispered harshly, her voice biting at him with every word. "You're the tool I picked out from the shed and I'm not tossing you back until I've gotten what I wanted."

The crumpled paper was tossed aside and her hand made it's way to his lap where it groped near his groin, her nails digging in just the tiniest bit. Leaning even closer to him so her nose nuzzled at his ear lobe, her hair falling over her shoulder to brush along his neck, she whispered even lower, "I fucking own you. We're not done until I'm no longer standing here in this form, so buckle up and shut up until the ride is fucking over."

For a few moments longer, she stayed close like that, pinching his inner thigh and breathing deeply of his musky, manly scent. Then she blinked and drew back to look him in the face, her hand leaving his lap. For several minutes longer, she stared him down like that before moving away and drifting back to her own seat. Flippantly, she tossed her hair over her shoulder as if nothing had happened and cleared her throat just the tiniest bit before bending down to pick up the balled up document. She unraveled it and smoothed it out and briefly looked it over. Glancing at Jason, Stephanie's eyes met his and she gave him a small smile as she methodically began to tear it up into small, thin strips.

Amidst all of this, it did not occur to her once that the numbness inside her had faded almost completely. That is until she was in the middle of tearing the page and her hand shook as she gripped the two pieces she was currently ripping apart. Staring at her trembling hand, it suddenly hit her what had just happened and that she was no longer coasting under the influence of the drug. That stupid Jason! It was all his fault! Everything had been blissfully, coldly fine until he'd had the nerve to upset her like that. Now, she could feel the case in her back pocket pulsing at her painfully and she ran a quivering hand through her hair as she once again got up from her seat.

As she passed Jason, she stopped beside his seat once more and looked down at him with a sneer. "You see what you do?" she breathlessly whispered in accusation. The torn paper strips in her hand came forth and she shoved them forcefully in his face, her fist making brief contact with him, covering him in a small blanket of litter before she stalked away to the restroom.

Once she'd locked herself inside she instantly took the small carton from her pocket and opened it before laying it out on the counter by the sink. As she took the appropriate vial from it her eyes drifted up briefly to catch her reflection. Her skin had lost a bit of it's healthy golden cast, dimming and waning with a pale white and her light hair hung half over her face in limp strands. There was the hint of dark circles forming under her eyes and she blinked in astonishment as it took just a split second delay for recognition to set in.

Had she looked like this in the car when she'd adjusted her lipstick? The sun had been setting then and in the dim light she thought she'd looked okay. But then again, she'd been pretty loathe to look at herself at the time. It couldn't be the drugs. She'd just started taking them and although they did eventually wear on a person's body, there was no way they'd have these effects this quickly. Maybe it was the stress her constant emotions were putting her under?

Whatever it was, it was inconsequential, she decided and went back to setting out the things she needed. She wouldn't be in this body much longer. Gwen was on her way to Charlton, nicely packaged and ready for the transfer. Besides, even if it was the drugs, it wasn't like she had a choice now. Her little explosion at Jason was proof of that - if she let up for even a moment, her emotions were waiting, ready to be set free. But she'd taken a full dosage. It shouldn't have worn off that quickly - they'd only been on the jet for 45 minutes or an hour. Whatever. 10 ml was obviously not going to cut it. 20 should help give her that longer boost that she needed so she wasn't left running to the bathroom again before the jet landed.

[Tartra]

So she was still here. Wonderful. Alex looked up when her hands dropped on the table, but after that, he went back to eating.

“You’re breathing on my food,” he told her. “Stop it.”

Like it’ll make it worse. Should fish be grey? Fish shouldn’t be grey. I don’t trust this.

“Probably crawling with mercury,” he muttered.

Does that mean it’s flammable? Hey – can she re-heat this?

Ignoring the rudeness of asking the lunatic if she’d like to be a microwave, Alex refused to put the question to her. Big or small, he didn’t want her help, and any favour would instantly put him in her debt. Then again, considering he’d done her the service of wiping out the army in the back – You? – she could’ve owed him her life right now. She should be grateful he wasn’t calling it in. Osono was right: this was her fault. If she’d just left them alone on the damn bus... Why the hell had she attached herself to them? If what she’d said was true, she’d gotten away from Rudy a million times before. Why did she suddenly need help – their help – to get away? Unless it was how she got away. Maybe there was a list of people she’d thrown to the Agents in trade for her freedom.

How very Agent-like.

She should’ve run off like he’d expected. There was no point for her to hang around. The entire reason Alex had stayed hidden for so long with a hellish night-wraith in his head was because the way he killed was natural. Sort of. Seizures were hand wave-able. Giant gusts of fire for zero possible reason had to be investigated and analyzed and picked apart and studied... The Agency had to be at their wit’s end pulling the media away. Why they’d had any trouble finding her was beyond Alex’s understanding. Provided she was innocent, he reminded himself. If she was one of them, she could’ve had something worked out or arranged for times to cause a scene. Killing other Agents to build up credibility didn’t sound like something the organization would be against. Hell, Peter had worked hand in hand with Xander when they’d trusted him. It just seemed weird that they’d try it twice. Or maybe that was the point.

“I’m not doing this again,” he said. His mouth was full of fish. He doubted even Xander knew what he’d just uttered. Swallowing heavily, still weak from everything that’d happened today, he waved his fork in Osono’s direction and stiffly asked, “What stopped you from killing your pal Rudy? You obviously don’t care about melting people and it sure as fuck would’ve ended your problem years ago.”

Needed an alibi? A way to connect to victims? Peter hadn’t needed it, but she was no Peter.

Fuck that guy.

Alex agreed.

“Stacey is now gone because of you. I appreciate your kindness in admitting it, but I figured it out on my own. Wasn’t hard. And as far as having a plan goes – sure, whatever. I have a plan. I always do. I plan for everything – every variable and make sure every piece is in its place.” Enough fish. It sucked anyway. He stood and scowled at her, his teeth slowly showing from under his lips. “You know what I didn’t plan for?”

The suspense is killing me!

“You. And I’m not going to give up the little control I have by changing things around for you to come with me,” he said. “You’ve been a big help, but if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go before the rest of your friends show up and try to grab me, too.”

Sooooo... That’s a ‘no’ to the brute force plan, huh?

“She’s not coming.”

His foot was like a dead weight on his leg. Either Xander didn’t have the energy to keep moving it, or he couldn’t. He didn’t know which one was supposed to scare him more. He could almost feel the pain in his leg and that, on its own, was enough to make him stumble. But he caught himself and pushed his chair away, scooping up his bag – and Gwen’s, because she’d want it when they got her back – and throwing one on either of his shoulders before shuffling off.

Don’t take the stairs.

“I don’t think I could manage it,” he mumbled. “We’ll go out the back.”

You’re sure this is a good idea?

“What? Leaving her crazy ass behind? Definitely. You saw what she did to them.”

Yeah, which is why I can’t get why you don’t think she’s fantastic.

The EXIT sign loomed in front of them. Alex trudged towards it, unsure and unconcerned if or when the proper authorities decided to walk in. It didn’t matter. If they tried anything –

Oh boy. That’s not hypocritical.

“It’s different,” he spat.

It’s a textbook double standard. But don’t mind me. You’re adorable when you’re scandalized. Awwww – I’m gonna miss you!

“Shut up, Xander. You’re an idiot. You’re not taking this seriously.” Through the back halls, bit by bit. Slow going, but at least he was making progress. “Who was the one that went ballistic when he found out about Peter?”

Me. And it was sensational.

“Exactly. And at the hotel – back in Vestal – what’d you tell me about Gwen? That you gave her... what? Forty percent of your trust?”

I have it at sixty now.

Sixty?

“You still don’t trust her? Xander – she means everything to you –”

Hey, hey, hey! Let’s not get carried away.

“You should trust her,” he said. “She’s been with us this far and now she’s in danger.”

Right! And I’m sixty percent sure I’m doing the right thing by believing that. Alex roared with annoyance. She could be a very good actress. Very good.

The guy brought a new world of definitions for ‘paranoid’. That proved Alex’s point completely.

“You were maybe worse than me when you said you couldn’t catch up to the car,” Alex said, “but you’re still not giving up the thought that she’s against us. And why? Because we got burned before. Peter ruined any faith we have in anyone – ever – and you know that much better than I do. So what makes you think we should bring her along?”

Extra muscle.

“Extra muscle we can’t control,” he said. He rolled his eyes. “Fine – that I can’t control, which screws us both over if you run out of strength. ... How’s the foot holding up, by the way?”

Holding.

“Good. Anyway, we can’t risk it.”

He was being final. That was the end of the discussion.

I have to explain this, don’t I?

“It’d be nice,” Alex said. “I don’t know why you think I can follow your logic.”

It’s the same deal with that David guy.

“His name was ‘Nathan’ and I don’t see how that relates to her.”

Effort. It’s about the effort. The Agency’s lazy! They could come up with an infallible plan made to cut off my every escape – and any chance of someone helping me – but it’s way easier to send mook after mook until they finally take me down, especially after I blew their last grand scheme to shit. Peter. Think about it. If she put this much effort into setting up a scenario that involves taking Gwen away and bringing us in, she’s not going to blow it now. If anything, she’d want us to go to Charlton. She’d be reinforced there. If she could take me – she can’t – she wouldn’t be wasting her time.

“You want to use her,” Alex flatly concluded.

Might as well. If she gets us inside, that’s more than enough. If she’s innocent – hey, great. If not? I’ll kill her. No skin off my dick. And you’d want to keep an eye on her, if she is who she says she is.

“Since when did ‘keeping an eye’ on somebody outrank ‘running the hell away’?”

Xander said nothing. He must’ve been thinking about his answer. Alex, meanwhile, had made it outside. The crisp night air stung his throat and he blinked against the coldness. Was he taking a bus again? No. Gwen said they wouldn’t get him the whole way. Train? Car? He could steal one...

Corvette, Xander said. You weren’t kidding about those five being super Agents.

“What?”

The Corvette it was. A bright yellow one was parked a little ways off, obviously the property of someone who’d been dining here tonight. Hopefully, they wouldn’t mind. Just to be careful, he dug out the putty and marker at the very bottom of his bag. Xander had insisted on stuffing it in the little sack of essentials he’d had at his old room. It was mixed in with the gauze and wrapping, left inside a small white case no bigger than a plum. Time for some arts and crafts.

They had a symbol on them, Xander went on. A bee. On their shoulder.

Oh, come on.

“He’s alive? You blew his head apart!”

No joke. After he’d fried Peter’s mind, Xander had taken a rock and smashed his skull like a pumpkin. Alex still hadn’t gotten it out of his head.

He’s a slippery bastard.

“That’s a great understatement,” Alex snapped. “He almost killed me. He almost killed you.”

Keyword’s ‘almost’. I figured it out in time. Fucking traitor. Xander seethed. Then he said, The point is, he’s back to wherever the hell he was before and now he’s commanding some of the higher-up goons. He might have an army.

“What are we supposed to do?”

Blow them to pieces. Avoid them, he said. Or set them on fire.

Alex had only done this a few times before. He took the putty out, found the L, and slowly shaped the letter into an E. Then he turned the P into a scraggly B – which Xander corrected, thankfully. The 6 became an 8, the I turned into 7 – Scrap the 7. You can’t squeeze it in. And then he coloured over it. There. Not perfect, definitely wrong if someone looked at it, but if they were on the road, they’d be fine. It might even fool the cops if they were behind him. It’d give them the extra second to think if they needed it.

“You think she’d do it to her own team?”

If it is her team. She seemed fine with it before.

Osono was no longer the big problem.

“You’re sure that’s what the bee means? Just because he had one scratched on his glasses –”

It’s him. I know it is.

He was dead serious. For the second time today, Xander’s voice was grave, lifeless and determined. But it was also worried. Alex couldn’t let that go.

“What happens if he finds us? He shot from forty percent to a hundred and ten pretty fast for you,” he said. “I don’t even know what turned you – unleashed you – on him in the first place. It was back when I thought you were a voice in my head.”

Nothing fancy. He made a deal and couldn’t deliver. I got out of it before I paid my half.

“And what was it? What’d he want?”

You. There was no emotion surrounding it. The answer was purely a fact, plain and simple. Don’t worry. He lied. I won’t fall for it again.

Now he wasn’t trying to hide it. Alex sighed gruffly and went to the side of the car. He didn’t have to jimmy the lock open – the stupid owner had forgotten. And he’d left his lights on. No keys, though. No problem.

“You won’t fall for it again unless...?”

Unless he lies better. It figured. He’s a very good actor.

“Isn’t everyone.”

That wasn’t a question. It ushered in a short rest from words as he threw the bags into the back and clawed at the panel beside the pedals until it broke open.

Red wire. Red wire. He had no patience. Move over and let me do it! You’re fucking it up.

“Sorry I’m not a seasoned criminal,” Alex said, letting his hands fall away from his control. “... You think she should come with us?”

It’s a decent gamble. She doesn’t know who we are. And if she does and is only pretending, she can’t afford to blow her cover yet.

“Win-win?”

Win-not lose. Best I can give ya. Four minutes ticked by. Suddenly, the car roared to life. Sexy. Let’s bounce.

Fine. He’d take her. But the first toe out of line that he saw... He couldn’t let her ruin his chances at getting back Gwen. Xander must have known that. He wouldn’t take this risk unless it’d help her.

... Would he?

“Osono!” Alex had the windows down and pounded on the horn. “Hey, crazy! If you’re serious about coming, hurry up!”

I’m driving.

“Like hell you are,” Alex said. “Last time –”

I have the foot, I touch the fucking wheel. Anyway, you drive like my grandma.

“Do you have a grandma?”

No, most Agents were born in tubes. It’s faster than trying to recruit. ... He was joking. Yeah. Joking. Call her again.

“Osono!”

Where was she? Backing out already?

What? After you asked like such a gentleman?

He felt doubly annoyed knowing it was Xander – of all people – calling him impolite.

“She’s got twenty seconds,” Alex said. “Then we go.”

Do me a favour, Xander added. Try not to scream about who we are. I’d like to keep her in the dark for a little longer than an hour.

He just wouldn’t let it go.

“Osono!”

* * *

His lead had a lot of nerve telling him he had a lot of nerve. Jason grabbed his arm rests and crushed them with his fingers, irritably shaking the scraps of paper off his head the instant she took off. This was the thanks he got for warning her not to kill herself? He was helping her! He knew what that crap could do, and she was sticking it in her arm like it was the cure to cancer. If she thought that was going to be the end of it, she –

“‘Tool from the shed’,” Benoit breathed out. “I may have to hold onto that.”

And that was the cue for Eric to burst into earth-shaking, mountain-crushing laughter. The man nearly broke his chair leaning into it, gasping for breath as if he wasn’t already dead. He was slapping his knees and holding his gut and wiping his eyes and – as Jason caught a flicker of movement from the other side – he realized Benoit was chuckling, too.

“I’m glad you’re both so happy,” he said, carving holes in the chair through the gloves. “Eric, I want out of this assignment.”

“I can’t –” Laughter. “I can’t –” More laughter. “I can’t –” Even more laughter. “I can’t breathe!”

Jason had been pleasantly obeying the basic rules of airplanes. He’d been wearing his seatbelt whenever he was sitting, but now it was hurting him. The belt was suddenly too tight. He grabbed at it, trying to rip it open, and failing that, stumbled through some too-complicated process of unbuckling the damn thing.

“And where are you going?”

Frenchie was smirking through his toxic fog, eyes glinting behind his shades.

“I’m getting her to sign,” Jason said.

“But the ride is not over,” he replied. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“Buckle up!” Eric was struggling for air amidst the raucous guffaws. “Buckle up, buckle up, buckle up!”

“Shut up! Both of you! This isn’t funny,” he spat. “She’s been – fucking –”

He stopped. The words wouldn’t come out. This was the perfect opportunity to tell them what’d been going on, but it wasn’t working. He brought a hand to his throat as if checking for a chain around it. Nothing there. He didn’t understand.

“She’s been what?” The A-1 had managed a loud gasp. “What else? I gotta hear this!”

“Maybe we should take a different plane,” Frenchie said. “I think you need alone time to work this out.”

That set Eric off again. Jason’s ears hurt. He saw the stewardess poke her head out before vanishing once more.

“Jason –” Yet more laughter. “Jason – I’m sorry – I’m – I’m so sorry –” He didn’t sound very sorry. “I’m not laughing at you – I’m – just –”

Yeah, yeah. A flight and a show. He hoped his lead was proud of herself.

“May I have a new sheet, please?” He shouted to make himself heard. “Sir? I need another form.” Louder still, he tacked on a sharp, “And maybe you’ve got something for... disciplinary... stuff...”

“Sounds kinky.”

And Frenchie could shut the hell up! Eric was roaring at the man’s words – the only one, he might add, regardless of how many people were in the airplane – and, although he was ecstatic to give him another document, it was crumpled from him gripping it so hard in his mirth. He couldn’t stop wiping his eyes. There were tears streaming out of them. It hadn’t been that funny!

Eric quickly replied, “It was a little funny.”

Frenchie snickered. If he wasn’t a fucking A-3, Jason would’ve...

Nevermind. He had what he wanted. He grabbed the sheet and stormed to the back, trying to decide whether he wanted to break the door in or pound on it. He settled on a sharp knock, the sound of which sent both men howling.

“Open up,” he hissed. “We need to talk. You have to sign this.”

Nothing from in there. Maybe she’d overdosed and killed herself. With what she’d just done to him, with the shit she’d put him through, he couldn’t say she wouldn’t deserve it. She’d ruined him. He should help her ruin herself.

“Knock louder!”

“Shut up, Eric!” ... Holy fuck. Did he just say that? To an A-1? A coldness ran through his body as he felt the world turn to stone around him. Thank God it unfroze a second later, breaking at the noise of Eric laughing harder than ever. “Hey, boss. Open up!”

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. If he had a corner to do it in, he’d be rocking back and forth.

“Go in,” Frenchie called out. “An A-6 can’t pick a lock?”

Fine. She wanted to play it that way? He had his suit. He’d get it open. Immediately, his pick came out of his wrist and he jammed in the small opening beside of the word ‘occupied’, maybe harder than necessary but in a way that felt intensely satisfying.

“Hey, Benny. Think maybe we should go up to the cockpit?”

And what Frenchie said to that almost made Jason blackout. Needless to say, they both disappeared shrieking.

“Telling me crap like ‘this is what I do’,” he snarled to himself. “What about you, huh? This is your fault.” The door was open. “Finally. Let’s talk.”

[Guest]

The vial was in her hand, upturned with the needle poking through the sponge top, and she let out an uneven breath as she began to withdraw the pump, completely unaware of the scene she'd left behind outside. There was nothing but her and the Atropytamine, closed off from the rest of the world. As the syringe filled with liquid, she caught sight of herself in the mirror again, her reflection directly in her line of sight as she concentrated on the vial. There was the sense of her life slipping away, draining from her just as the drug was being drawn from the vial. Swallowing thickly at that train of thought, she focused once more on the numbers printed on the side of the syringe, the clear, purplish grey liquid slowly consuming them one by one.

Then there was a harsh knock at the door. Despite herself, Stephanie jerked a little and blinked, letting out a shaking breath as she turned to glare at the door to the small room. Through the thin metal barrier - decorated on this side with a few anonymous warnings and instructions with basic illustrations - she could hear Jason's voice come through. It was slightly muffled but there was no doubt about what he said. The little bastard! He'd gotten a new form and he wanted her to sign it? And he just couldn't wait for her to come out of here to kick his fucking ass for daring to ask AGAIN!? Was he fucking mental? Had she not made herself clear before or was he just suicidal now? Had Eric and Benoit said something to him about it - she'd made just as much secret about their conversation as Eric had made his with her partner.

Not only were his current actions completely insane with how their last conversation had gone - and he knew, he fucking KNEW what she was capable of - but it was also radically inappropriate. She was in the fucking restroom! Stephanie hadn't hidden the fact of what she'd come in here to do, but for all he knew, she could be on the freaking toilet and half-naked in here! And there he was, just pounding on the door eager to chat! Taking in a deep breath, she shook her head and returned to what she was doing. From the anger that was swelling within her, she knew she needed the drug in her system before she dealt with Jason again. Otherwise, there was just no telling what she would end up doing.

Finally, the syringe was filled at 20 ml and she set the vial onto the edge of the counter. For a few seconds, she searched the room for something to use to tie off her arm, but feeling the chemicals gnawing at her, she quickly decided it didn't matter. Standing beside the sink, she over turned her left arm, holding the syringe in her other hand and searched for a vein. The thick blue rivers in her forearm could be seen fleeing from her elbow to trickle up her wrist and she smiled a little as she pointed the needle in the middle of one of them at an angle. Something else was going on with the door - a small, mechanical clicking that she didn't understand - but she shoved it away as she willed her hand to stop trembling. No more distractions. She would do this. And whatever was happening outside, she'd be better prepared to deal with it afterward.

The slight tremor in her wrist had just about settled down and Stephanie was getting ready to push the needle point through her flesh when suddenly the door burst open and Jason came inside. The bathroom was a lot classier than those on other airplanes, but there was still only enough room for 3 or 4 people to move about comfortably. As a result, Stephanie took an abrupt step back as the door opened inward and her hip bumped into the counter edge.

The vial that had been resting there teetered before clattering to the floor, but the ground was made of linoleum tile and the glass was thick enough that it didn't break. Stephanie wasn't done moving and she took another step back to give Jason enough room to enter, the sole of her highheel putting her weight on the tiny glass bottle. The sound of it crunching wetly and the harmless, sickly sweet medicinal odor of the Atropytamine, filled the air.

Stephanie gasped harshly before blinking and looking down at what she'd done - what Jason had made her do. The pieces of the vial were somewhat stuck together in a torn mosaic as the label kept the glass together. But the bottle itself was flat and busted open on either end, the metal cap dented and crushed. Purple-grey liquid pooled under her feet.

She felt ill. She felt weak. Oh, God, what have I done? There were still two other vials left in the pack Eric had given her - much stronger drugs than the one she'd selected to start with - and she still had what was in the syringe. But the rest of it was gone. At this particular moment, not having the drug in her system and spiraling wildly out of control, she didn't even consider that she could get replacements in Charlton. All she saw was what had been destroyed, what had been taken from her and as her eyes drifted up to regard the man now sharing the bathroom with her, she saw nothing but red.

The tremor running through her body no longer had anything to do with her needing another dose of the drug but rather with the escalating hate and anger growing within the core of her being. Openly glaring, her eyes widened and turned a bright emerald green as irrationality took over and her emotions overwhelmed her.

"You son of a bitch!!!" she shrieked before flinging the syringe to the side and charging at him.

It didn't take her long to span the distance between them and her fist slammed into his cheek bone, hammering into his skull with one brutal hit and shoving him back into the door violently. Her knuckles were red from the blow as she drew her fist back again and surged into his stomach with another savage hit. Even through his precious suit, he had to have felt that.

"You stupid, fucking moron!" she yelled as she hit him again and again, blind with rage. "You just had to be a problem, didn't you? You can't just follow orders can you!? Because you're an arrogant, lazy, whiny little bastard! What did you think was going to happen with you coming in here and challenging my orders? Huh!? TALK, you fucking pussy!"

She had the front of his suit in two fists now and swung him from the door to slam him into the mirror. For safety reasons, the glass was not of the regular sort and merely buckled when the back of his head collided into it.

"Shut up!" she bellowed, cutting off anything he might have to say to explain himself. She didn't want to hear his stupid whiny voice! She didn't want to see his pathetic, incompetent face anymore! Now more than ever, Stephanie knew she would only be satisfied with this punishment if his blood was shed and his life ended. She would get rid of this problem once and for all. Screw him and his disobedience!

Her hands left his suit, one of them snaking up to grab a fistful of his hair and wrenching his head violently to the side to expose his neck. Her other hand drew back, her fingers together and flat like a knife, fingernails sharp and glistening in the lights above the mirror. She stared at him with a wild look in her eyes, her hair falling over one side of her face and her chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion. Heat flowed through her veins and a kinetic energy surrounded the hand she'd now turned into a weapon - preparing to use it on him in much the same way she'd been about to disable Gwen two days ago. This time, she'd go for the kill and aim to slice into his jugular with one fluid strike.

"There's only ONE way you're getting out of this assignment early..." she whispered hoarsely, grimacing as her hand drew back, ready to spring forth for the final attack.

Stephanie's eyes were fixated on his exposed neck just above his collar and right under his chin. Her focus was so deeply ingrained in this area of his body that she noticed the tremble when he swallowed, the bulge of his veins as they snaked through his throat. That vulnerable flesh... open and unprotected... the lines of muscle stretching elegantly as she twisted his head to the side to expose it... God! It was a beautiful sight...

Inside, the anger continued to boil with unreleased wrath, but something else began to form and flower right on top of it. When her hand should have been moving through the air and cutting through his neck, her mouth found it's way to the target instead. Suddenly, her hand had left his hair to rest flat against the mirror, her arm straight like a pillar blocking him from the doorway, and her body was pressed tightly against him, her hips wedged between his legs.

Feverishly, her lips moved across the flesh of his neck and jawline, teeth nipping with a savage intensity and her tongue whipping out to stroke at each little mark she left. Her breathing was erratic as she reached his lips, enveloping them with her own to continue the bite-and-tongue-lashing dance, her free hand moving up to undo the notches of his suit at his collar. As more of his neck was exposed her mouth moved south again, teeth dragging wantonly along the vein she'd been about to puncture with her fingernails.

"God, you're so fucking bad...!" she murmured in a harsh reprimand, her teeth leaving a trail of red welts on his collar bone and her right hand moving down to grope his ass and press him more firmly against her.It wasn't enough! He just wasn't close enough!

Finally, after several minutes of squeezing and biting/suckling on him, she tossed her head slightly to remove the hair from her face and looked him in the eyes. Hers were clouded with lust, the green brighter than they'd been in years, but even as captivated as she was by her own desires, there was a strength in her features as she looked him over. With her breasts pressed firmly into his chest, Stephanie's hand slithered back to his front, moving up along his side to where his rib cage would be underneath his suit. Watching avidly, her fingernails clawed a jagged path, digging into him, scrapping all along his side under his left arm, and as every twinge of pain flickered over his face, her breathing quickened excitedly.

"Are you going to force me to take what I want," she whispered huskily, a small, seductive smile playing upon her lips. "Or are you going to give it to me, like a good boy?"

There was little doubt that she was asking out of playful spite - there was no choice for him to make. She was already well on her way to getting "it" from him as her hand continued to wander and her body swayed against his rhythmically.

***

Ozzie waited not without a bit of impatience for him to respond to her seriously - she was going to ignore the accusation that she was breathing on his freaking fish; he was lucky. Normally, she'd be just offended enough to get reeeaal close and start obnoxiously hacking and coughing inches from his plate - but when he did, he had a mouthful of food and she couldn't hear him clearly.

"Huh?" she said with a rude sneer. When he cleared his mouth of debris - which watching him talk with his mouth full was nasty, by the way - he was suddenly asking about Rudy and she blinked defensively.

"Well..." it was hard to explain. She'd never wanted to believe that Rudy was anything other than what he seemed, a geeky and annoying, harmless little turd. She'd had her suspicions of course, and she knew something was going on, and everytime she got away by the skin of her teeth she promised herself she'd char his ass to oblivion the next time he showed up. But there was something about the guy. The few times he caught her when she was alone, he followed her like a puppy dog, chatting her ear off about his nauseating interests and annoying everyone within a few feet of him.

Something about his presence brought out the big sister in her and although she fucking hated his guts, and suspected he was the root of all the trouble she'd suffered, it was that feeling that always stayed her hand when ready to blow him up. She didn't understand it at all herself - even now, she was planning different ways to finish the job for next time she met up with him - so she couldn't even begin to explain it to someone else.

But Ben's questions didn't make her feel like explaining, especially not with the way he'd addressed it to her. It made her want to take that fucking fork and shove it so far down his throat it--anyways. It made her bristle defensively. She didn't need to explain herself to him - she'd made a mistake and she'd been humble enough to fucking cop to it, which was something she never did for anyone. He should be grateful she was offering to help him at all!

And then as he continued on, Ozzie found her fists balling at her sides, shaking with the effort it took not to reach across the table and beat the shit out of him. God! Rub it in, why don't ya!? Asshole! Everything about what he said had the effect of making her feel even more guilty and useless than she already did with what had happened. Of course he blamed her! She should have realized he would. Still, she'd thought if she approached him with enough of a contrite heart and at least trying to make up for it, that he'd set his anger aside and allow her to come with him.

Forget it now. She was withdrawing her offer and she wasn't going to trail his stupid ass either. He thought he was soooo freaking macho and epic that he could get Stacy back with his hands tied behind his back. Fine! The jerkface was on his own. He probably had as little information as she did anyways and she could figure out where they'd taken his girlfriend without his help! And he would feel really stupid when he found the two girls together eating at IHOP after the grand rescue. ...Alright maybe not IHOP... Somewhere with a barbecue, maybe.

As he got up from his seat - stumbling awkwardly - she murmured to herself, "Ass," and waited till his back was turned to make faces and gestures at him. She wouldn't hurt the arrogant fucker because Stacy liked him - God only knew why - but she'd let all her frustration out now in the form of a gestured "Fuck you!" and "Smell it!"

When she had it all out of her system, he'd disappeared with that stupid gimpy limp down the small hallway to the exit and she turned away, kicking at an almost whole shard of plate. Alright, so she was on her own. Again, although unwillingly this time, so where did she start in her search? Looking over the area where their table had been she noticed the basket of breadsticks that the waiter had brought them just before all hell had broken loose. Well, he had the right idea anyway - no use searching for Stacy if she let herself go hungry.

Walking over, she crouched down and picked out a few sticks of bread and began to eat. She was busily stuffing the pockets of her jacket with them, with one hanging out between her lips when she noticed under the tablecloth there was a body. Uncovering it, she immediately recognized the guy who'd interrupted their dinner. Stacy had been the one to see him first, and if she hadn't made to hide under the table, Osono would probably not have realized she'd had a gun pointed at her head.

The man was in plain clothes, drab but not cheap, just really unremarkable. His eyes were semi-closed and what little she could see of his eyes they were glazed with unmistakable death. Her steak knife jutted from his chest, and blood had drenched the carpet underneath his body. Tossing the breadstick she was eating away, she began to search through his pockets with as much reservation as she would have if he were just asleep - meaning none at all. There was nothing on him. No wallet, no I.D., no cell phone. The guy didn't even have a pack of chewing gum.

"Dude, what's wrong with you people?" she asked him, shoving the body in frustration. As she did the tablecloth moved even more off of him and revealed the gun he'd had laying by his side. "Hello..." she said pleasantly, picking it up and looking it over. It appeared to mimic a glock with a silencer, but it was of a make and model she'd never seen before. Still, it only took a few minutes of messing with it to figure out how it worked and she checked the clip to make sure it was loaded.

Satisfied with that, she tucked it into the back of her pants and stood with a small grunt and walked away from him. Now what? Well... she'd need money if she was going to go anywhere - after coffee and a bus ride she only had a few dollars left in her pockets - so that was next. She had to find the main office where they usually kept the safe for a neato place like this. Jumping down the stairs three at a time, she went through the kitchen on the ground floor.

The long room was divided into three aisles, counter tops and stove tops in the middle two columns and shelves full of extra food and supplies bordering the walls all around the room. It was empty in here and there was a fire burning what appeared to be some shellfish in a pan on a stove that had been abandoned. The fire roared in greeting and she smiled as the warmth of it tingled inside her breast, but otherwise she ignored it. Walking past one counter, she came upon a pan with a full chicken roast inside it, sitting cold and ready to be stuffed into an oven. Wrenching a raw leg free from it, she continued to walk through to the back as it caught fire in her hand.

Five or ten seconds she let it burn before blowing quick at it and instantly silencing the fire. The chicken was no longer pale and bumpy flesh but charred a nice crispy brown and she took a hearty bite from it as she entered a small hall in the back of the room. The hallway itself led out to a small delivery area and there was a door off to the side before it. Kicking it in with her combat boot and busting the lock in a rain of splinters, she chewed noisily on the chicken as a startled old man yelped from where he was hiding huddled behind his desk.

He was a bit portly and balding with a thin pencil mustache and dressed as if he owned the place. "Wh-who are you?" he asked worriedly, sweat dripping down his face and making his spray-on tan run and stain his collar.

"Grim Reaper," she replied glibly around a mouthful of chicken, only half paying attention to him. "Wanna take a trip? I swear, where I'm going, it's just like the Bahamas."

He looked around warily, licking his lips as if he wasn't sure how to respond and she said, "No? Alright then. Beat it before I decide to take you somewhere less pleasant." He hesitated. It was obvious he didn't believe her story, but he was contemplating whether she was dangerous enough to obey or not. Stepping into the room, she only stopped chewing apart the chicken leg to thrust her hand forth aiming it at a stack of papers on his desk. It took a few minutes for the air to dry up enough but when it did, the top sheets caught fire with small flames crackling happily.

The gentleman exclaimed in horror, shrinking away from the stack and she stamped her foot to get his attention again. "I said MOVE, dumbass! Bells toll and all that shit!"

She didn't need to tell him twice and he whimpered weakly as he moved from around the desk to flee out the door, flinching away from her as he passed. When he was gone, it took an effort of will to get the fire to obey her and like a drug, she was reluctant to let it go. But the barrier she'd made on the stairs - keeping it restrained from spreading and slowing it's consumption of the wood - had taken a lot of energy out of her. All of these little fires were not as much of a drain, but the papers were quickly being eaten away. She didn't want to leave it going because she wasn't sure she could stop it once it got big enough, so she slowly closed her hand into a fist and snuffed them out completely.

Walking around the desk, she began to search through the drawers, keeping an idle hold on the drumstick, and found a key for a safe. Then she heard a loud engine coming to life and revving powerfully. So, either Ben had found a car or someone was being a dick - because they didn't have one. Turning to the safe, she started to search through the ring of keys for a few minutes until she heard someone yelling what sounded like her name.

The honking horn accompanying it made a smirk come to her lips unwillingly and she scrunched her nose up. "Shit! I knew it!" Ha! The dumbass DID want her help finding Stacy. Well, he'd been really mean to her, so she wasn't willing to forgive him just yet, even though she smiled again when she heard him call her name. After a few more minutes fiddling with it, the horn was getting to her and she tossed the keys away in frustration as she turned and ran to the door.

Down the rest of the hallway she went through the delivery room and out the back doors that let out to the street. She stood for just a moment looking around for him, taking one last bite of chicken before tossing it away into the shrubs of the garden. Spotting the car - a fucking sweet ride which she whistled at - she dusted her hands off and jogged to it slipping easily into the passenger seat.

Ozzie barely got her foot inside the car before he was backing up out of the space and driving off and she shot him a hateful glare as she closed her door.

"What made you change your mind?" she asked in her raspy voice, not looking at him but watching the road as he sped away from the restaurant. "Does this mean we're friends now, or are you still gonna be a dick to me? Should I be ready for more verbal attacks - because believe me, you may beat me in a physical fight but you ain't got nothing on me when it comes to verbal abuse. I can dish it."

It was obvious that she was still prickly about what he'd said in the restaurant and she sighed, realizing this wasn't a good way to start - in fact, he was very likely to toss her out on her ass if she didn't behave. "Alright, I'm...sorry, okay?" there was a hesitance before that word, as if it were hard for her to say and when it finally came, it was rushed and terse, as if she were slapping it down in irritation at being made to give it up. "I didn't mean for this to happen and all I want is to get her back safe and sound. I swear, if you really hate me that much, you'll never hear from me again after that."

"As far as traveling together goes, I don't got a problem with not talking and I can provide for myself so you don't got to worry about me. I just want in on where we're going and what I gotta do to help Stacy. You an' me don't need to be friends." Reaching into her coat pocket with one hand, she brought out a half filled pack of cigarettes and took one out with her lips as she rolled down her window a few inches. Turning to Ben, with the cig held loosely between her lips she shrugged and said, "But if you wanna fight the whole time, I ain't got a problem with that either." Without touching it a small spark lit the end of the cigarette, glowing a bright orange and red as she sucked in a breath.

[Tartra]

The fleck of fire caught his eye in the worst way. He was glad – almost – that Xander was driving; even as tired as the guy was, it was safer than Alex's sudden lack of attention on anything that wasn’t that cigarette. He grit his teeth at the sight of it, then snatching his right hand away from the wheel, he rolled down his window, grabbed it out of her mouth and flicked the thing outside.

Feel better?

“Much.”

It wasn’t that he had a problem with smoking – although the smell was awful and it was a bad habit to have – but if there was anything he could do to make her day a bit less fun, he’d go for it. Besides, he didn’t want to have to add ‘cancer’ to the list of things she’d done to him.

So spiteful, Xander said. You’re supposed to be the nice one. We can’t have two crazies.

Yeah, well...

“We’re gonna have to set some ground rules,” Alex told her. “I don’t want you here, but a voice in my head seems to think bringing you along isn’t a terrible idea. I’m only warning you once: if that changes, ever, I’ll kill you, because I’m not running the risk of dragging someone along who might try to kill me. Got it?” And in a lower voice, he added, “And I don’t think I need to explain what happens if we don’t make it to Gwen.”

You’d better not.

Right. His powers were a secret again.

I’m worried that you have to think about it so hard.

“Rule number one, so we don’t start this off on the wrong foot –” Yeah, that’s a lost cause. “– don’t use your powers in public. What you did back there was stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean, sure, I’ve done –” Not five seconds after I just finish saying it. Great job, retard. “I’ve seen what someone... y’know – like you can do. It’s impressive. It’s powerful. It’s also the most attention-grabbing show anyone could make, and as a person who’s supposed to be running for their life, you’re not doing a hell of a lot to stay undercover.”

If this were me meeting you, you’d be at a negative trust level right now. -37%, Mr. Potential Agent.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself. This was a lot more difficult than he’d realized. Maybe Xander was right to not trust him with this stuff.

Ohhhh, really? I’m right? There’s a shocker.

“So that’s rule one. If we’re up against the Agents, you do whatever you have to, but if there’s other people around, you need to keep it quiet. You can’t cover up a fire by saying it was an accident and you’ll be drawing them to you – to us for as long you’re tagging along – like... well – like moths to a flame. And I can’t waste time dealing with those psychos. We’ll buy you a lighter or something.” What else? “Rule number two: don’t wander off. Forgive me for being presumptuous, but you don’t strike me as a ‘people person’. If I’m not wasting time with Agents, I’m not wasting time hunting you down ‘cause someone made fun or your hair or whatever.”

-48%.

“This is why I have no faith in your trust levels. It’s arbitrary,” Alex hissed, snapping his head sharply to the other side to block Osono’s view. “There’s no way that could’ve changed by 11% in under a minute.”

Allow me to assure you that all my values are based on very specific criteria and highly calculated algorithms. For example, right now you sound like a dick. You know who else are dicks? Agents. Make that a solid -50.

“And you’d know.” Xander seemed praised by that. Alex rolled his eyes and tried not to say anything else. Conversation was out of his league for now; his throat hurt from breathing, his chest felt like there’d been a vice clamped around it, and every now and then, there was a quiet spasm in his knee, as if the pain rolling in his foot was trying to claw its way out, and the keeper of that door had to be losing strength. “We need to stop somewhere.”

That’d be the smart thing to do. He needed to get off his foot and rest – not for his sake, but for Xander’s. The less moving around he did... maybe... somehow it’d give him strength to draw from. He didn’t know if it’d ever happened before but the thought alone was enough to convince him. At the very least, if he was sitting, his weight would be on something else, and maybe he’d be in a better state of mind to take on part of the burden and give Xander a break.

My hero.

Except that it sounded ragged. For a voice in his head and no real lungs to go along on, Xander was pretty out of breath.

“We’re stopping.” There were a few hotels around. It was practically an instinct to head for the biggest, shiniest and probably most expensive. His wallet was still in his bag – that was a small mercy – but he had to wonder how badly the credit charges were going to hit him. Or at least whoever Xander had sent the charges to back when he’d made the cards, if it was a real person at all. Oh well. By the time anyone figured it out, two more days would’ve passed. He was in the clear for now, but after that, they’d have to find another way – preferably one that didn’t involve ‘working’. “We’re going in there. We’re staying for the night.”

For the night?

“We’re – I’m – this is not the time for us – me – anyone to be going up against them,” Alex said. “We don’t have the element of surprise anymore! They’re after us! We don’t have a choice. We rest one night –”

For what? Why? What the fuck is a night going to do? Keep driving. We can make it by tomorrow evening.

And instantly, his knee twitched.

“I can barely believe you lasted this long. If you expect me to be in any shape to cart you to your dumb body, we’re stopping,” Alex hissed. To pass that one off, he tried coughing into his arm. Suspicious? Maybe, but as long as she didn’t hear anything that let her piece stuff together, he didn’t care what she thought. He was used to it anyway. “Sorry. But I’m serious about stopping.”

But we can make it –

He took his hands back. It wasn’t hard. If Xander had put up a fight, it’d been so pathetic that Alex hadn’t felt it. That settled it, then. They were stopping, resting, and then they’d get Gwen.

“We don’t even know where she is.”

... Ahhhh, shit! What now? I forgot to keep one of those assholes alive!

“One of the Agents?” He was pulling into the hotel’s driveway, rounding the island of roses and ivy spread over a rock pool. “Too late now. You killed them all.”

Yeah, I gotta stop doing that. But in the meantime – fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m so stupid. That was important! We needed those dickwipes to get us into the Charlton base.

He’d been talking to Xander for a very long time. He didn’t care what she thought about him, but it wasn’t as if he wanted her to think he was a complete psycho. He kept his mouth shut, hoping that his thoughts were loud enough for the guy to pick up on. It was a simple message: why can’t we get in the same way as Elmira?

“The codes.” Alex shook his head. “Damn.”

Obviously. They’d gotten in before because of the codes Gwen had had. Hell – they’d found the place because of Gwen. She’d gotten it from the goggles and the guy whose mind she’d read; Alex had neither of those things. He was ready to ask if they could do the rooftop break-in, but putting his foot under more stress was exactly what he was trying to avoid. His hands tightened around the wheel, out of frustration for yet another problem they’d run into and out of nervousness at the sight of the valet. He gave the red-suit a quick smile and wave, trying to be casual about his refusal. He had to handle parking the car on his own, what with that no key business. Starting it up in the morning... They’d probably have to switch cars. In fact, he shouldn’t have this car anywhere near the hotel. While he felt safe enough driving into the one dark corner, devoid of any streetlights, buried in the back of the lot, he’d be running the risk of someone sneaking too close and calling the cops.

But his foot...

This is a nice car, Xander said. It’d be a shame to lose it.

“We’ll find you that tank you wanted,” Alex muttered, kicking at the wires left exposed beside his feet. The car shut off and he stiffly grabbed his and Gwen’s bag from the backseat. Without further ado, he threw himself into the lofty task of pulling his dead leg away from the pedals and onto the pavement. He waited briefly to see if his foot would move. It didn’t. Xander was running on reserves and whatever he had left was in keeping the pain away. It was too bad he didn’t have a crutch, but at least he had experience. “I can’t believe that time you crushed my ankle in a car door actually came in handy.”

I can’t believe you picked getting your ankle crushed by metal over getting me a latte. It’s like you’re mentally incapable of learning from your mistakes.

“Here,” he said to Osono, his breathing short as his leg groaned against the movement. “Take my bag. It’s just clothes and stuff.” He’d been smart enough to stick his wallet in his pocket and he’d rather her set fire to his things than any of Gwen’s. “Just carry it up there and I won’t ask anything else from you.”

Except for the hundred other things we’re gonna ask her to do later.

“That’s more ‘tell’ than ‘ask’,” Alex mumbled. He was standing, finally, and he took it as an accomplishment that he was able to shut the car door. It felt like he was slamming the cover down on another chapter of these screwed up two days. Almost three days. Yup, this was just another week. “Penthouse?”

Uh... yeah?

“Just making sure.”

There was not going to be any disappointing him here. The hotel was built from a white and lavish stone, gleaming in the moonlight and shining out of every sparkling window. The red awning hung over a grand carpet leading into the front door. For once, Alex shrank back at the sight of it. A limousine had pulled up to the curb and out stepped two men in finely pressed suits and three women with sleek, silky dresses. They looked kind of panicked getting inside. No doubt about it: they were from the restaurant a certain someone had finished turning into ash. Damn. Witnesses, he guessed. ... And he could use that.

They have an hour on us and we’re about twenty hours away from Charlton. If they don’t get out of the car, we can take a train or something and beat them there – barely. If they do get out of the car and switch to something faster... Well – they still have to wait for whoever’s getting transferred in to show up. Then the actual transfer process...

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Alex said. “In case anyone asks, we were at the restaurant. Uh...”

La Madeline.

“We were at La Madeline, we were there during the attack, there’s people in there who saw the same thing, and we only have to say that we... I don’t know – that we followed a limo here for the hell of it.” He shrugged. “It’s not perfect, but it should do the trick. If they ask about our clothes, they were hit by the fire.”

And if they ask about us not going to the hospital?

They wouldn’t. Because... they wouldn’t. But Alex obliged the guy and gave a hushed, “That’s when people get seizures.”

Sounds good to me. Oh – except for the whole ‘let’s piss a day away here instead of hauling ass to get Gwen who’s a day and a half away from having her brain yanked out of her skull’.

“You can’t be a hero if you can’t move. One night of rest is better than nothing.” He sighed. Gwen’s bag was heavy on his good shoulder and the strap cut into him. He absently stuck his thumb under it, trying to curl the edge into something less than a sabre, but when that didn’t work, he chose to be satisfied by having something for his fingers to play with. “Okay, Osono. Let’s get going. Try not to barbeque anyone on the way in.”

* * *

Jason, in a word, was proud of his analytical skills. He’d mastered basic and advanced logic, he had a good grip on common sense and reasonable deduction, and as far as his observation went, he was a cape and a pair of working goggles away from being Superman. When he walked in and found her, instinct drew him to the needle at her arm and then immediately to the small vial that fell, crashed and was crushed open. The smell of it was sharp and intensely familiar. It was nothing he’d used or considered, but although it wasn’t effective at fighting the symptoms of the suit, a lot of men and women that’d been given one had seen fit to sample that juice, too. Good stuff, from what he’d gathered. He completely understood the look of loss on her face, still weirdly cold a split second before it snapped to oh sweet shit she was coming after him.

He’d been trained to fight – sure – but he wasn’t a fighter in that sense of the word, and all the observation in the fucking universe didn’t give him a damn chance to hide from her psychotic fist – holy shit, what was in that needle? Steroids? She picked him up, snapping his head back after politely plunging her fist through the gut of his suit, then – okay, he’d blacked out for a second. Good thing he hadn’t missed out on all that pain, because that was the fun part.

She hadn’t wasted a breath breaking him apart. His head was ringing and he was choked by the awkward twist she’d forced his neck into. So this was it. This was how he was going to die. All in all, not a bad death. Private airplane, in the bathroom, crazy woman and drugs all around him... As far as autopsies went, his was going to be in the top twenty. He could feel her eyes already pressing into him and unwillingly shivered under it.

He felt the hand leave his hair first, but only because that was the easier thing to process. What he realized next explained itself in wildly... no, it was simple enough. While the panic that she’d gone entirely insane and was going to chew a hole through his neck had taken a moment to get rid of, it’d vanished under the smooth and frenzied feel of her lips against his skin, overshadowed by the feral bites she was taking out of him, then utterly forgotten by the violent awareness of her fingers picking at the collar of his suit.

That observation stepped in. Suddenly, the smell of the drugs was like a distant perfume. With her so close, she was taking center stage. Her body was outlined by his, her nails were in every inch they could find, and when she ended her attack long enough to... challenge him, her eyes...

This was going too far. This was too much. She was a lead Agent, she was an A-3, she was a professional, she was his boss, her boss was on the plane, this was a bathroom – the list for why she was a maniac for even thinking this was going to end in some way other than her ass being handed over to her kept going for as long as she stood like that: melded into him with her breathing quick and excited, hands draping and raking against his suit and the flesh underneath, between his legs – what was wrong with her? What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he said a damn thing?

The way she spoke turned a switch in his mind. For a full, solitary moment, he met her gaze with perfect strength. In that time, behind his freshly clenched teeth, he spat out a harsh, “No.” In that time, his hands knew what to do. In that time, his arms went under hers and he grabbed her by the shoulders, then unceremoniously pushed off the wall she’d thrown him to, and his grip did not let up. It clenched around her, keeping her escaping despite the blatant fact that he was the person who should’ve been trying to run. He didn’t. And for reasons he was too fucking stupid to bother questioning, when he stomped forward and put her deranged ass into a corner – yeah, he could do that shit, too – with the full intention of leaving her there, because he’d done his part by making sure she wasn’t dead and only wanted her to sign the forms now soaking in the remnants of the vial, he lost that analysis and logic and common sense and went ahead to bruise his mouth against hers.

He was so screwed now, the last thread of reasoning told him. He ignored it in favour of forcing whatever space between them the fuck out of the room. One of the hands on her shoulder tore from its post and found a new home at the base of her skull. He was holding her in place, crushing his hand between her and the wall as he kept finding ways to get closer. But all that – even now – was miraculously restrained. As much as he was against her, as tight as his fingers were around her, he couldn’t allow anything to wander. There was still that sense of... not refinement, not with the way his tongue whipped across hers, but an annoying sense of ethics that would not shut its mouth about how horrible this decision was and how many losses he could cut if he stopped this second.

... When he’d said ‘no’, he’d meant for that to be the end to this. Once again, the good little boy had given his boss an answer. Whoo-fucking-hoo.

[Guest]

Control and domination were completely intoxicating, almost as much as his pain and discomfort was, the little flickers of movement upon his face heating her body to the depths. Even as she took charge of the situation and kept herself from being lost completely to the whims of her body, she was still locked within the room with him, lost to the rest of the world. The rest of the plane, the other Agents on it with them and the whole case and mission to Charlton had fallen off the face of the Earth. She was consumed and fixated on her desire and right now, that was to teach her little bad boy a lesson. To torture and toy with him. To make him murmur in delight and squeal in the pain she caused his body to suffer.

Stephanie hadn't truly realized how much she missed it, the old days before she'd become a Lead Agent, before she'd been yoked by responsibility. Jason had let her taste and sample that old version of herself a couple of times in the past few days, but here and now she was living and breathing it and she couldn't get enough. Proudly, she awaited his response, expecting him to be cowed by her authoritative presence like the many who'd come before him. She expected at the very least, she'd have to punch him a few times before he'd finally submit and allow her to get to the good part of this game.

What she got instead however, was something she had not even prepared for in her wildest dreams. The look that came over him caused her to pause and her eyebrows to bounce a half an inch in surprise, even as a buried tremor ran through her. It was followed by a second as his voice cut through the air in a rough whisper, and her eyes narrowed at the negative tone.

Before she could react, he had ahold of her and was propelling her backwards, a small growl leaving her lips as she met the opposite wall. How dare he defy her! At first, she'd taken his denial and following movements as a refusal to participate - which she was more than happy to correct him about - but when his lips crushed into hers, she took it to mean he wanted to dominate her. Did he even know who he was dealing with? Had he gone mental!?

For a few moments, her hands grabbed fistfuls of his suit at his shoulders and sought to push him off when his body once again melded into her. As his tongue stroked at hers however, another tremble fled through her and a hum escaped her throat, her whole body melting against him, her hands no longer clawing at him to push him away but rather to pull him closer. Stephanie couldn't help the new reactions that spiraled within her as his rock, hard muscles pressed against her through his suit, creating an immovable barrier between her and freedom. Her hands clung to shoulders that were a lot broader than she'd realized before, a leg moving up to curl around his backside, and her lips moved with his even as they smashed together in a violent dance.

All this passion, welling inside him and she'd had no idea. She hadn't seen it, merely tempted by the victimhood and flashes of defiance he'd chosen to show her. Why doesn't he touch me!? she thought wildly, goosebumps covering her where his fingers cradled her head. As strong as he was and powerful his presence had become, there was that duality again. A dignity and respect still imbuing his assault, causing her to grow eager for things to move forward.

She wanted him like this. Strong and controlling, consuming her, owning her while still seeming to await her command and following her lead. Even as she felt that way however, realization and the real world crashed down upon her as she realized the reason for his restraint. He was her subordinate. She was a Lead Agent. And this was a plane. Everything came flooding back, invading her isolated little world and her chest rose and fell rapidly with a bit of nauseous fear to remember that the A-1 was still on the plane with them.

They needed to stop - no, she needed to stop - right now. They probably had a few minutes left before their time in here together became more than obvious in how inappropriate it was. And she could not let this jeopardize everything she'd worked for - GWEN! God, what was she doing!? She was so close and here she was flirting with disaster! She needed that body and after everything she'd done, everything she'd sacrificed to get this far, she could not allow herself to ruin it for a brief moment of bliss with her colleague.

However, as these thoughts ran through her mind, she continued to touch him, her hands running through his soft, curly hair, lightly tugging on the locks and letting him grind his lips against hers, his tongue exploring her inviting mouth. She didn't want to let go, not yet. Not when everything was so...yummy. Even worrying about Eric being on the plane, it only added to the adrenaline coursing through her filling her veins with vibrant life with every touch from the man sharing the small space with her. It had been so long since she'd let these walls down, since she'd breathed and every new lungful brought her Jason's musky scent. It was too new, too precious to just toss it away now. Besides, he didn't seem to be in much of a hurry...

Along with remembrance of Eric and Benoit sharing the plane with them, also came the memory of why Jason had entered this room in the first place. The drugs also came back up but were discarded from thought a moment later.

He'd wanted her to sign that form again. His resignation from the case. With all these realizations coming back to her, it felt like no time had passed, and even with him kissing her forcefully back, it felt like if she stopped them now, nothing would change. He would still want to withdraw. He'd still want to abandon her. Just like Richard had...

Her chest grew tight before she quelled those old emotions, now made more real by her present desire for Jason and the life he filled her with, as she broke the kiss but kept him close. "I need you...!" she gasped against his neck, nuzzling slightly into his thick, muscled shoulder, breathing deeply of his scent, clinging to every last piece of him before she forced herself to let go. "Don't..." her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat as she drew back to look him stolidly in the eyes. "Don't leave me."

As the words left her mouth, Stephanie knew they sounded pathetic and a small, embarrassed wince rippled across her features, fully bringing her out of the spell her arousal had put her under. God! After all she'd put him through and demanded of him, after everything HE'D lost because of her and the best she could come up with to convince him not to go was 'Daddy, please don't leave me'? Good fucking God, if she were faced with that, she'd leave herself just for being so utterly ridiculous.

Her eyes left him almost immediately after that, and she kept them away as she gently, yet forcefully wriggled out from underneath him, her body growing cold even as she squirmed against his form. Standing apart from him in the middle of the room, she looked into the mirror and began to quickly adjust herself, running a hand through her hair, smoothing down her tank top and wiping her mouth so it didn't look so blatantly like she'd been sucking face with someone. A few times her eyes fell to Jason, only to retreat quickly when she saw him looking back at her. Whatever had been there a moment before between them, was probably completely gone now with her stupid, whiny begging. He must think I'm such a loser...

It didn't even make sense, her wanting him to stay. If anything, she should be gladly signing the papers and helping him on his way. The constant stress he put her through and the nonstop temptation - she could toss the drugs away if she could just get rid of him. But she didn't want to. There was no future with him, not with all the plans she'd laid - at most they'd have two or three days before she left and became someone else and went on to complete her assignment for the Agency. So, logically, she had nothing to offer him, nothing to sway him except that...she wanted him with her. It was so incredibly selfish, he might as well leave.

As an afterthought, she reached onto the counter by the sink and grabbed up the small carton Eric had given her. Closing it up she tucked it into her back pocket with a resigned sigh. Underfoot, the glass of the broken vial crunched and crinkled with the paper of the form he'd brought in with him but they both went ignored as she turned to the door. With her hand on the latch, she stopped and looked back at him, forcing herself to meet his gaze. He must think she was completely insane...

Her eyes fell upon his neck again, drawn there this time by the dark, slightly circular markings peppering his flesh like a frigging leopard. Some of them were red welts but a few were unmistakably hickeys. The fact that their little tryst had left behind identifiable marks made her realize they needed a mutual agreement on the events that had taken place in here, lest they both lose something upon leaving the room.

Stepping forward, she began to reattach the clasps of his collar as she spoke. "You were thoroughly reprimanded," she said softly, her eyes meeting his as the slightly raised, reddened flesh encircling his collar bone in several small patterns, was obscured from sight. "You almost died, but I was able to convince you to withdraw your resignation request without needing to take your life. You now agree that it would be best to just finish the assignment, with only a few days left on the case, so as to not shred your record any further." The last clasp on his collar was fastened and most of the marks were hidden beneath it - one or two peeked above the fabric of the suit, but they were placed just so with the boundary of the suit touching his flesh, that they might escape indepth scrutiny.

Stephanie continued to look him over to make sure everything else fit - his cheekbone was slightly puffing now from the first blow she'd laid upon him, and her own knuckles, red and a bit swollen, would attest to a beating - but a smudge of dark lipstick decorated the corner of his mouth and she reached up to lightly rub it away. As it faded her eyes drifted up to his again and she opened her mouth to say something more - maybe apologize, or explain herself - but with how pitiful she'd been with begging him, she silenced herself. No, there was nothing more she could say that wouldn't compound upon how pathetic she was right now. Best to just leave it and not blur the lines between them anymore than they already were.

Turning once again, she stood for a moment at the door, squared her shoulders, replacing the old, emotionless mask and opened the latch before stepping out, hoping that the practiced explanation she had in mind would be sufficient - but really praying that Eric wouldn't care enough to ask for it. Walking from the room, she resisted the urge to look back inside as the weight came barreling back down upon her shoulders. It was practically on a physical level, suffocating her, as if every foot that brought her out of there was adding a ton to the whole mass she was currently balancing.

At first, she didn't understand the reaction, keeping a firm hold on her mask and not letting it shift for a moment to reveal the panic going through her. But then she recognized it as the sweet, sick smell of Atropytamine. Jason had interrupted her before she'd gotten a chance to redose herself, and now the need came back upon her full force after leaving his presence. She chalked that up to him being an incredible distraction more than any kind of block against the chemical's effects on her body. Because that was absurd.

As soon as the door to the bathroom had opened, the flight attendant had peeked out from the small galley near the front of the plane and Stephanie instantly zeroed in on her, walking with a rigid, robotic grace down the two person wide aisle. Standing at the opening to the small cubby hole, she drew attention to her beat up hand when she ordered, "Get me some wrapped up ice for this. Now." She didn't really need ice as the wounds and swelling barely registered for her with everything else she was currently feeling, but more to draw attention to the fact that her knuckles had been giving a pounding recently. She tried not to think about the way Jason's face and flesh had felt with every blow, despite the comfort it offered.

When the flight attendant started to busy herself fulfilling Stephanie's request, she noticed Jason had left the restroom and she looked at him. For a moment, the mask shifted as she felt that magnetic pull again, but was firmly put back into place as the other woman handed her an ice pack wrapped in a small hand towel. It was too late to go back in there now...

***

Right in the middle of that first exhalation, the cigarette was yanked from between her lips and she blinked in astonishment, a small gasp of irritation leaving her now empty mouth. "What the fuck, man!?" she murmured in annoyance, contemplating dragging out another cigarette and keeping it out of his reach. But she didn't have that many left and she still needed money, so she didn't want to risk losing another one in a similar manner. Besides, everything was still kinda touchy. Even though he'd allowed her to get into the car with him, she got the feeling he would kick her out any minute just as easily. Until she had established a solid rapport with him, she needed to play the game his way and be good.

Osono was eating her words a moment later as the next thing to leave his mouth was the word "rules". Rolling her eyes, she nodded chagrined, hoping that the list wasn't long - she had an unbelievably short fuse tonight after everything that had happened, and she already knew it was not a good idea to beat the shit out of him while he was driving. But the guy just wanted to make it as difficult as possible.

First off, there was the mention of the voice in his head and she rolled her eyes a second time. In the next breath he was threatening to kill her out of the same sense of distrust he'd had for her in the restaurant and she had to bite her lip to keep in the rude retort. He thought it'd be so easy? What? Did she just look like someone who was easily victimized? Or was he just shoving his 'big balls' around now because he had control of the situation? Needless to say, it made her want to punch him and ask for clarification on that part of his "plan" specifically.

Even if she'd wanted to or been able to do so at that moment, she was left blinking at him in confusion as a new name passed from between his lips. Gwen? Who was...Gwen? From the way he phrased the sentence, there was no doubt who he was talking about and Ozzie doubted that he forgot his girlfriend's name. So...Stacy-Gwen had lied to her? Sure it was just a name but it set the stage as an introduction between people. Why would she lie about that unless she were hiding something?

Osono was still stuck on wondering about it as Ben started to go through his list of rules and she refocused on him enough to snort derisively. How long did he think she'd been doing this? She'd been running from these guys for almost 6 years now and she'd never been caught, despite the fact that she frequently started fires - sometimes as a distraction, sometimes as a threat and sometimes on accident just because she was so pissed off about something. She didn't need him to tell her when and how to use them and she instantly shrugged his rule off as inconsequential because of that. Fire was hers and she'd do with it as she saw fit.

But then she was instantly on edge in her seat, frowning at the streetlights out the windshield. He'd...what? There were others like her? And how did he know about them? How did he know that she was running - had she said that??? What had Rudy said to him in the bathroom...? Oh shit... Suddenly everything started to click together and Ozzie found herself glancing at him warily from the corner of her eyes.

It made sense. Rudy was with them and they'd just happened to take Ben's - if that even was his real name - girlfriend. That was probably why Gwen had given her a false name - she must have had powers too! If that was the case, then was Ben HER Rudy? No...that didn't make sense. Not with the way they'd been introduced and definitely not with the looks the two of them had shared. You couldn't fake googly eyes the way Gwen had been making them.

Or maybe...he'd been undercover to get close enough to her, like Rudy had done with Osono. But then why had he been fighting them, if that was the case? God! This was all so confusing! What was going on with these people!?

Her attention was focused back on what he was saying just in time to hear him go into "rule number two" and she bit the inside of her lip worriedly at the word "Agents". Is that what they were called? Or was he just calling them that to give them a name? All this time, Osono had nicknamed the people after her "Them"; there hadn't really been any reason to call them something else and it fit with her perception of them as a secret government organization, 'The Man' trying to keep her down.

She looked at him sharply as his voice grew low and muffled and he spoke into his opposite shoulder. No words could be heard but she guessed right away that was the point. God, what if 'the voice' inside his head were really just part of the ruse? What if he had a microphone or something and was talking to them right now? Rudy seemed to do that too. Uneasily, she shifted in her seat, looking away from him but keeping an eye on him as she watched the road ahead of them. Willing her heart to slow down, she tried to tell herself not to panic - for one thing, it would not help her to start making wild and irrational accusations and for another, she didn't have enough energy to control any 'accidents'. It wasn't his car but she doubted he would enjoy it if she were to start randomly setting fires - especially when he found out she couldn't help it.

Busily breathing in and out deeply through her nose, she looked at him again when he said something about stopping. She tried to find something sinister in the comment but as they approached a large hotel, she relaxed a few notches. It was when he started repeating himself that made her tense up again, mostly because she got the feeling he wasn't speaking to her. And she continued to get that feeling as he murmured under his breath and the drove up to the establishment and parked in a far corner.

As the car came to a stop, for several moments, Osono contemplated just opening the door and disappearing into the night, but that was the panic talking. There were still so many questions running through her mind and the only thing she was absolutely certain of, amidst all the wild suspicions and doubts, was that she no longer trusted Ben. Stacy--Gwen was different, because she'd been such an open and innocent person, so she was still pretty sure that Gwen had been taken by Them, the Agents or whatever. Realizing that Ben was very possibly one of them gave her a rare opportunity that she'd thought she would need to wait a long time for - she needed answers and to find out where Gwen was being kept and here she had someone who knew things.

Stifling the need to run for her life, she watched him leave the car - seemingly in pain because of his leg - and quickly followed suit, keeping a wary eye on him the whole time. A small annoyed "tch" escaped her lips as his bag was shoved at her, but she didn't make any more of a fuss than that as she put the strap over her shoulder. It was something easily accessible that she could search through, possibly when she had him incapacitated.

More muttering to himself - or perhaps whoever was on the little microphone in his ear; which, you'd think They'd get him a better, more discreet way to communicate. Maybe with Gwen being so clumsy, Rudy's phone hadn't been the only one she'd ended up breaking? - before he was turning to her with a hashed together plan involving the restaurant. Osono nodded slightly, giving him a narrowed look, but she said nothing.

The tone he took with her when he ushered her along, provoked a response however and she said in her sandy voice, "Yeah, you know me. Always ready for a roast." The truth was, he didn't know dick about her, but he would soon find out everything that was necessary.

Approaching the doors behind him, she kept silent and looked around warily for any more Agents - maybe this guy was like Rudy and they showed up randomly when he was around? As they entered and walked up to the check-in counter, she forgot to put on her best "afraid for her life" face, but the woman manning the computer seemed to take Osono's agitated watchfulness and Ben's weariness as symptoms of shock. So, when he started spouting that nonsense about them being part of the small crowd fleeing the French restaurant, the woman bought it without suspicion. But not without questions.

"Oh, my God," Peggy said in amazement, her red curly hair done up in a loose but fashionable bun and her big eyes blinking as she shook her head slowly. "We all heard about that on the radio in the break room and then a few people from there started coming in. It sounds absolutely horrific. Do they know what happened yet? We heard some people were fighting."

Before Ben could respond to that, however, Ozzie stepped forward and said in a blunt voice, "Yeah, it was some fucked up shit that went down. I'm feeling pretty traumatized and all, and I need to freaking lie down, so if you could...?" And she made a motion for the woman to finish up the transaction and hand them their key. At first, she didn't blink when Ben ordered the penthouse, that is until she realized why that didn't seem odd to her - Rudy often got that room. Those brief times when they'd been running together in the beginning, he always insisted on staying in the most expensive places he could find and they practically had the penthouse reserved for him, where ever they went. When it occurred to her that Ben had done the same thing, Osono raised one eyebrow at him, but kept her mouth shut, casting another anxious glance around to make sure none of those "Agent" fuckers was hiding anywhere nearby.

The ride on the elevator was excruciating, if only for the fact that they were alone in an enclosed space and she felt like any minute he was going to put the jump on her. Rudy had never attacked her or raised his hand to her, no matter how many times she'd done so to him, but even though Ben copied a few of Rudy's habits, she was acutely aware of him being a completely different person. She had no idea what to expect from him, or if she should even expect anything - Rudy continued to play his undercover game and she had the feeling that he only did so because it still seemed to work on her.

Off of the elevator, there was a long hallway with two double doors spaced a short distance from each other. Upon entering the first, however, it was apparent that the second pair of doors was still a part of the same room, with just a different exit down the hall. It was the only room at this level. Walking into the room, Osono's eyes quickly swept over the luxury and rich furnishings, searching corners and crevices as if every gleaming floor tile and silken drapery were hiding a threat in plain sight.

When she was satisfied that there was no one else here, she proceeded to one of the large tables in the room and unslung the bag on her shoulder, unzipping it and over turning it over the polished tabletop. Quickly, she rifled through his clothes and picked out the passport that had been stuffed in among his things. Opening it up, she made another noise with her lips and pulled the gun from the back of her pants and aimed it at him as she turned.

"Who the fuck is 'Tom Ferguson'? Huh?" she asked acerbically, tossing the passport away in irritation. It was useless - no doubt it wasn't real either. He was just full of lies and she was done being fed stories. She wanted something real and she wanted to find and help Gwen. She was no longer blaming herself for the other woman's capture however.

"She trusted you!" she said through gritted teeth, sneering at him with her finger on the trigger. "Is that what Rudy was suppose to do to me? Get close. Get me to love him and trust him so he could just shove me away in a black van someday? Too fucking bad They don't know my type!"

She stopped yelling for a moment and took a deep breath. "I can't believe I didn't see it before - I mean, it should have been fucking obvious with the way you put your arm around him like you guys were old highschool buddies. Rushing off to the bathroom together to whisper and plan in private. Did you guys just decide to trade targets, or what? Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? I'm right here, asshole!"

Her dark eyes were bright and wild, looking around the room and yet always coming back to him, anger and fear filling every inch of her and all of her muscles tensed with threat. "You almost had me fooled with the way you fought Them - I just thought I was lucky to find a guy who knew freaking Matrix style karate. Now I know! I know it's because you were trained like Them! You're one of Them!"

The air in the room was quickly heating as her panic rose, all the moisture sucked up and everything drying out and growing crisp. Swallowing thickly, she grimaced again and shouted, "I want to know who the fuck you people are and I wanna know NOW! What do you want from me and Gwen!???" She was an inch away from sparking and losing control of the situation and she took a deep breath and said through a barely restrained voice, "If I don't get some answers now, I will blow up this whole fucking room! And you bet your ass, I'll be the only thing walking out of here unscathed."

Explosions were not something she could do without the right ingredients present, even if she had enough energy to create something big enough to fill the whole space. As it was, she was more likely to set something ablaze by accident and she definitely didn't have enough energy to make it go away once it started. She just hoped he wouldn't call her bluff, because a potted plant catching on fire because she was scared was a lot less impressive than the room exploding spontaneously.

[Tartra]

“Oh boy. I hope we gave you two enough time.”

Jason didn’t say anything to that. He did take his hand away from his collar, though. The fabric felt too harsh against his skin and he knew for a fact there was evidence plenty of what the hell had just gone on. Why? What possible reason did he have for taking this from bad to worse? As if the harassment hadn’t been enough, she was set to blackmail him. One word and she’d have Eric or Benoit in the know and then they’d rip the suit off his back right now! Shit, this was horrible, and he grit his teeth because he knew he was fully to blame. He was stupid for walking in there and he was stupid for not walking out – out of her trap, which she’d probably been planning from the minute she’d had her fun in the car.

Too harsh on his skin. He had no choice but to scratch at it again, warily eyeing the other two as they sat down in their seats. Benoit sat, at least. Eric jumped on his and nearly broke it. The whole thing gave a loud grunt of pain as he reclined and stretched out, leaning far enough that the chair had almost become a bed. Upside down, the man smiled broadly, then excitedly declared, “I was flying the plane. Could you tell?”

“No, sir.”

“See? He thinks I did a good job,” Eric said.

“I imagine he was distracted,” Benoit replied. “I, unfortunately, was there to watch as you let go to ‘see what happened’.”

He had a glass of wine in his hand. It seemed bigger than what was normal. It also drained twice as fast.

Jason took a breath.

“I’ve decided to stay,” he mumbled. “So long as I’ve made it this far, I might as well see it out.”

Snort. He hoped Frenchie could feel the glare to the very bottom of his throat. It didn’t look like it.

“That’s fantastic! I’m delighted to hear you’ve changed your mind,” Eric said, sounding exactly that.

“However abruptly.”

Jason grit his teeth harder. No one ever knew where they stood with higher level Agents. Did he seem more suspicious because he wasn’t offering an explanation or was it smarter to let... his lead handle it? Or would that make it worse, like she was trying to bail him out?

“I changed my mind,” he finally explained, “because this case done enough damage. If I help close it, I can say I made the best of an awful situation.”

“That’s excellent thinking. Isn’t that excellent thinking, Benny?” Another snort. “Benny says ‘yes’. And I agree! You’ll be able to walk back to headquarters with your head held high, proud you didn’t give up and ready to serve as a model for others to stay diligent and dedicated even after a tremendous mistake. I should promote you back to A-5 – I’m just that impressed!”

“... Really?”

“Sure! ‘Course, the whole ‘letting Alex and Gwen get away’ thing reminds me why I demoted you in the first place, but I’d be thrilled to comment on your profile that you showed tremendous tenacity, riiiiight under ‘takes orders from little kids in hallways leading to the direct escape of two high-profile targets’.”

Benoit seemed to perk up at that.

“‘Two’?”

“Yup,” Eric said. “Two.”

“When did the girl become so important?”

“Awwww, Benny,” Eric cooed. “I’m not saying Alex is less important. He’s great and I adore him! I simply happen to think she’s special in her way, too. I mean – anyone who needs a whole system whipped up purely to make sure Gwen doesn’t pop into their mind and explode their thoughts is packing a pretty good punch.”

Jason guaranteed it couldn’t make more chaos than was already in his lead’s head.

‘I need you.’ ‘Don’t leave me.’ What the hell did that mean? The instant he’d walked in there, she’d gone straight for his face. He was surprised she hadn’t picked out his eyes, but he was guessing it would’ve been harder to explain. When she’d changed her mind and started groping him again, he’d been almost content to know he understood the situation: she was a lunatic who had no problem doing whatever popped into her head under the eyes of an A-1 but wouldn’t go any further than that because she had too much to lose. Then all of a sudden, he lost his grip. He’d... accepted the invitation and... and then... that. And she said that. And then she stopped and left, as if she didn’t want to do this anymore, leaving him behind to feel numb everywhere she hadn’t dragged her hands across him. So what... unless...

Okay. He got it now.

The motivation behind it was up for grabs. She could’ve been doing it to pass time, to put him in his place, as part of a team-exclusive hazing or on orders of someone else. Who knew? The Agency could’ve told her to screw with him as part of a test. He wouldn’t put it past them. Aside from hunting people with special abilities and patting themselves on the back about what good work they were doing, the organization’s founders – the real ones, the ones who ran the Agency and everything else the company did – had marked their favourite pastime as ‘fucking around for shits and giggles’. What their motivation could’ve been was equally as hidden in insanity. Whether it was for a social experiment, punishment for the zero mistakes he’d made, a test of calibre – whatever – it all fit as rational explanations behind why anyone would take it this far, but frankly, if he never got an answer, he didn’t care. What mattered was getting the hell out of here before she threw the final strike.

She was trying to ruin him. She was working to run him into the ground. Actually, that gave him an answer: spite. He’d come to her with a flawless reputation and she’d either hated it or hated him for failing her. Understandable, he admitted that, and he’d expected something like revenge, but she was actively destroying everything he’d ever accomplished by setting him up with... well – with every charge he’d been planning to throw at her. He thought about it and came together perfectly. What happened in the car had been its own thing; easily deniable and hand-wavable even if he complained. She might’ve been satisfied with if he’d fucking said something, but his silence must’ve been enough to convince her to go on with it. Then, because he’d made everything worse by listening to that stupid kid in Elmira, she’d upped her need to tear apart and lured him into that bathroom to build up some rape story or something. That ‘I need you’? Precious. And she’d used it so he’d think they were on the same page about not wanting the others to know and pull out that distinctly rehearsed – she’d come up with something that meticulous in half a second? Bullshit. Bullshit! She wanted him to say it first so she could turn around and say he’d forced the story on her and then have Eric kick his ass out of the plane instead of wasting time with forms.

Still... it didn’t explain why she’d leave marks on his neck. And the forms – crap – he’d left them in the bathroom. They were soaked with drugs and he had bruises and there wasn’t a mark on her. If he said she’d come after him, Eric and Benoit had every reason to believe it.

... Maybe it was more subtle than that? She was after him, he knew that much, but no matter how he worked it over in his head, he couldn’t understand her plan. And there had to be a plan. A woman who’d made it past A-5 wasn’t so reckless that they’d do this without a goal in mind. If he kept at it, he’d eventually see the pieces in place and be able to protect himself.

Wow. He really was a pussy. But she was a calculating bitch from hell who wouldn’t stop until he’d broken at her feet, so it evened out.

“Your phone’s ringing,” he said, instantly annoyed by the metal sound.

Eric pulled his mouth into a bubbly ‘o’ as if he was surprised by the news, then sat up in his air and righted the seat. The most Jason could make out was his elbow as he dug into his pocket and took out his phone. It beeped, obviously on, and then he heard a relaxed and upbeat greeting of, “Did you kill her yet?”

“He won’t shut up over losing his five,” Benoit’s voice floated over. “I can’t understand why he’s suddenly so fond of them. I doubt he’s ever even met them. No – he just gets off on stomping out anyone who loses his property.”

... Was he slurring?

“Benoit,” Jason said, “how much of that have you had?”

“Enough.” That was a ‘yes’ to the slurring. “I’d understand if it was Stephanie calling to complain about you being dead. There’s too much love around you both and it makes me sick. But he’s as liable to shoot one of his minions as not, so there’s no sense in him getting pissy about it now, except that if there’s a dream to crush, he’s the first to line up.”

“Benoit,” Jason said, a touch slower, “are you drunk?”

“No. Well...” And then he waved his hand at Jason as if he was whining about something unimportant. “Come back when I start crying about Jean – who, again, I have more reason to request a ‘permanent resolution’ for than him, because I know his name.”

“Are you allowed to be drunk?”

“Maybe. But perhaps I wasn’t clear,” Benoit said. “He was flying the plane and he let go. And it’s not as though you two were around to say anything. I hope the bathroom is clean.”

‘Clean’ was a relative term.

“Yeah? Then ask her if she’s got some sort of excuse for knocking off five of my guys,” Eric said. “She wasn’t there? Then ask her who was and kill that guy. I want someone’s head in my office by the time I get back... you. ‘Kay, thanks!” The phone clicked. The man leaned back in his seat again. He would’ve been in Jason’s lap had the chairs been closer. “I think I’m gonna take a nap. We’ve got a few hours before we land and it’s been a long day.”

“Signing papers is hard,” Benoit said. “I simply don’t know how you do it.”

“Benny,” Eric sang back. “Go back to drinking.” The perfect enabler, the man produced another bottle of whatever the other lead had been downing. “Here ya go. This should tide you over for a while.”

“I hate you. I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

But he took the bottle.

“He’s adorable, isn’t he? Don’t worry about him – he’s French, it’s what they do,” Eric said. Then Jason’s lead caught his eye and he sat up again, halfway, showing the faintest twitch of concern the human face was capable of. “Miss March, what happened to your hand?” He stopped himself and turned back to Jason. “And what happened to your face?”

“I was thoroughly reprimanded,” he grunted. “But it’s solved. It’s fine.”

He’d figure it out. Sooner or later, he’d know precisely what she was hiding up her sleeve. Until then, he tucked his chin closer to his chest and angled away from the A-1’s eyes. If Eric saw the welts, Jason wasn’t going to be the one to explain them. Those were on her. ... Unless it was part of her plan to have to explain them. Unless it was part of her plan for him to think that and pre-emptively explain them. Had anyone seen already?

Benoit had the right idea. And Eric, once again, was psychic.

“It’s red and it’s Italian,” the man said, handing yet another bottle over the back of the seat. “Don’t know what it tastes like, though. I’m not a drinker.”

“I’ll fill you in after,” Jason said.

“Would you? What a sweetheart. Steph, you up for some red-Italian? I think there’s some white-Italian around here, too.”

If there was ever a complete report written about what was happening here, Jason would burn it and whoever wrote it to the ground.

* * *

What was with all these people having guns? Was there some kind of a sale? Were they giving them away? Where the hell had he been when they’d handed them out?

Can we sit down? I’m getting... woozy...

His foot throbbed.

“Yeah, let’s sit,” Alex said. Louder, more directly to the raving pyromaniac an instant away from turning them all into charcoal – unless she meant what she said about walking out of this unscathed, which must’ve been some fun perk she’d picked up to go along with the melting – he said again, “I’m sitting down. My foot hurts. Try not to shoot me.”

On the bright side, the penthouse had delivered. If there was one thing he could complain about, it was that it was too rich. There was a thick smell of money around them he couldn’t shake from his nose. They were heavy on gold and white in this place, but a dark wood had blessed with the task of making up the furniture in here. It’d been smoothed and glossed and ornately carved, from the bed in the far off corner of the room – just behind the wall and polished door boasting acres of space for its guests – to the curved edges of the table Osono had slammed his bag on, seconds before chewing through it. She had to look through his stuff, didn’t she? At least she hadn’t gotten to Gwen’s. That was one small mercy.

How angry would you be if I said I can’t actually feel your foot? I mean – it’s there and I guess I can wiggle it around and stuff...

“Just stop,” he said, limping to the couch. If he’d been in the mood to appreciate the pearl-lined cushions and gilded embroidery, falling into it would’ve been more pleasant. “Can you – just... sit, too? And possibly stop trying to kill everyone? I know it’s your ‘thing’ but I’d rather not have to fight you right now.”

I mean – it’s not like I can’t feel at all. And maybe it’s because I’m tired. You’d probably feel it.

“I don’t want to feel it,” Alex muttered. “What do I say to her?”

I dunno. Tell her you’re not an Agent.

“Would you believe that?”

I don’t believe anyone about anything. And just so you know, I’m not technically responsible for what happens to you or your foot. You’re the one who decided not to go to the hospital immediately after I told you it was broken. Which might have had something to do with the ‘date’ that’d started this. Also not my fault. Your hormones, not mine.

He rolled his eyes. Then he remembered Osono had no idea he was talking to Xander and could only conclude he’d been rolling his eyes at her. He cleared his throat, trying not to make any sudden movements beyond the walk to the couch and going over what his options were. No telling her about his powers, no telling her anything personal, no trusting her if Xander wasn’t sure she wasn’t an Agent – but there was only so much he could lean into that if the guy still thought Gwen was a possible threat – and no doing anything that’d turn the suddenly tropical climate into a burning inferno rivalling the sun. Not a lot of wiggle room, he grimly noted, and it didn’t help that she was so much more high-strung – and dangerous – than Gwen had ever been around them.

“No one is trading targets. I’m not one of ‘them’,” he began, already hating how he’d sounded. “I’m here to help... well... Okay – you know her name isn’t Stacy. ”

Congratulations.

“And... I think it’s obvious my name isn’t Ben. But I’m not here to work for them. They’re...”

Come on, Xander. What next?

Dude.

Oh, right.

“They’re after her.” And only her. “She’s like you. Except not like you because she’s...” As right as it would’ve been, saying ‘sane’ was not the best way to finish that. “She has mental abilities.” Play it down. Bare minimum. “She can communicate with us... you know – with her mind.”

We haven’t heard anything from her yet.

There was nothing in his voice to hint at whether that was good or bad.

Alex sighed and ran his hand through hair. When had this become so complicated? Having people chase him was something he was used to. Bringing someone else along wasn’t so much harder, but trying to convince a person in almost the same situation as him that they were on the same side? Or at least that they weren’t enemies.

He turned his head to the side and quickly whispered, “Can you handle this?”

Sure can! But it’s that or the foot.

“Just feed me lines.”

No can do. Gotta have the full Xander attitude. Tell me it’s not true. ... It was a little true. Fuck yeah. I’m sexy, even as a disembodied voice.

Fine. He’d do this by himself. Again.

“The Agents... uh... they are... a group of people after anyone who has powers,” he explained. “They’re crazy. The minute they have you in their sights, they don’t stop until they win. They’ll throw people at you until something breaks. Right now, they’re after Gwen. Stacy. And now they have her.”

Bile rose to the back of his throat.

Fire...

He pushed it down. He wasn’t going to smile, but scowling wasn’t a good idea.

“That Rudy guy? I’ve never seen him before. He pulled a gun on me in there – exactly the way you’re pulling one on me now – and he did that because he knew I was trying to help Gwen. If anyone traded targets, it’s him and the woman who was hunting her before. And... I don’t know what his plan was for you. Or why I put my arm around him, which was really dumb because it only happened out of some stupid fight I was having. You know, the one that led to us going to a restaurant where –”

He stopped with a strangled hack of a cough as his foot exploded to his mouth. In one river up the side of his body, every muscle seized and tore and burned –

“I’m going to say this once, out loud, to make sure everyone hears.” – his foot was splitting his leg in two – “On the very long list I have of people I want to kill, Gwen is at the absolute bottom. Barring her putting a knife in the centre of my face, that won’t change. Are we all clear, or are there any other jackass accusations I have to clear up?”

It stopped. It stopped – sweet merciful fuck, it’d stopped. His hand went out and grabbed the arm of the couch, squeezing it as if that’d get rid of everything. His side was still rigid and still reeling from the shock, but he could breathe again and nothing extra was coming from his foot.

Explain that one, shit face.

“That was... my... nothing,” he gasped, hurling out the words through a tightly clamped neck. “My foot. It’s... it acts up... and stuff... But that was true. That... was true...”

He was never going to be able to run.

Not with that attitude.

“Stop it,” Alex hissed. He coughed again, almost stuck on it until he coughed one last time. Okay. He was okay. He was good. In agony on one perfect half, but... he’d live. “Look, Osono, I can only say so much. Gwen... she’s not someone I’d ever hurt. I mean... I’ve been helping as much as I can. And I didn’t... You’re alive, aren’t you? You saw me fight – you said you liked it. If I was after you, why didn’t I take you down then? I had...” There was no way he was getting off this couch, and the instant he had a chance, he was getting a crutch. He had to handle it alone once Xander was gone and he refused to spend his first minute of freedom passed out from torture. “I had a gun, alright? I could’ve shot your leg... your arm, your shoulder, whatever, but I didn’t. It’d take less than a second to turn on you, but I didn’t. But if you don’t trust me, that’s fine.” He did the best he could to gesture at the door. “You can go. You know where I am. I’m not going anywhere until morning.”

You know that friendly barb you spat about not needing to explain what happens if we don’t make it to Gwen in time? Xander’s voice turned low. That goes for you, too.

Yeah. Yeah, he knew.

“It’s up to you,” Alex said. “Either... come with us, do what you said you wanted and help, or go. Anything after that, you roll with it, because that’s your choice and you have to back it up.”

And of course Xander had left the aspirin at the Vestal hotel. Would it have really helped?

Not in the slightest. Let’s get some morphine!

It was the sort of thing Alex had once expected would shut Xander up for a while. Unfortunately, and he’d paid for that mistake later, it hadn’t. At all.

“I’m sleeping. And I’m leaving early,” he said. “Decide fast.”

[Guest]

Having been in emotional states like this before, Ozzie knew the thoughts to stay away from - the ones that would absolutely trigger the reaction she was trying to hold off. Mostly it was words like, "ignition" "kindle" "combustion" "spark" and images of fires bursting to life. As she stood high-wired with the gun pointing at his face and listening to him speak, she could feel the warmth in the room reach an apex and a match appeared in her mind's eye. Frantically trying to calm herself down, she imagined it being dunked into a glass of water. It helped.

Not surprisingly, the things "Ben" said did help calm her down as well, but there were still so many things that he did that made her think he was jerking her around. First, even as she was threatening his life and about ready to obviously pop, he still found the frame of mind to mutter to himself. The calming breaths she was taking didn't do jack shit when paranoia creeped up her shoulder blades again. Who did he keep talking to? The voice in his head or the little microphone he was hiding somewhere!? The fact that he couldn't make it any more obvious was like an ineffectual murmur in the back of her head as panic ran with the idea that he was getting pointers on how to "negotiate" with her from someone.

Secondly, he had this way of speaking as if he were searching through a pile of stuff he wasn't supposed to tell her. On the one hand, she understood that with a gun to his head and explosion imminent he'd have to choose his words carefully. But on the other, all it made her think was that he was trying to think of something other than the truth to shut her up and calm her down. That wasn't the kind of response she needed right now, especially not when she was seconds away from doing something that would reveal her hand. Once she'd regained her energy back, she would have no problem setting the whole room ablaze. If she let herself panic now while she was weak, he'd know her setting the draperies on fire was the best she had right now and might take advantage of that weakness.

Other than that, the things he was actually saying got her to start breathing again and thinking somewhat rationally. He was right. He could have taken her down at any time if that had been his intention and at the time, if he was an "Agent", he'd had enough men at his disposal to help him take her into custody or whatever. But instead, he'd left her alone and fought and killed them all single-handedly. She could have left at any time and she hadn't been able to convince him to take her with him - he'd been more than ready to just leave her before making that last minute decision at the car.

All of a sudden, all her suspicions seemed more than wildly crazy, they appeared to be downright idiotic. But in her defense, he HAD been acting strangely all evening without a better explanation given except the one Gwen had offered. And after dealing with Rudy and his stupid little games all these years, an elaborate ruse just to gain her trust seemed highly plausible. What was she suppose to think?

More than his offer that she could leave at any time - and the almost weary acceptance of the fact that she might actually go - what finally got her to lower her gun was his revelations about Gwen. So, her suspicions in that regard had indeed been correct! Gwen was able to talk to people with her mind? Seemed severely limited compared to what Osono herself was able to do, but it wasn't a contest. Suddenly, Ozzie didn't feel so much alone anymore and felt an even stronger connection to the woman she'd just met this evening. Someone else like her. Ben had mentioned there were others before, but now having someone she knew possessing powers like she did, helped solidify the fact for her.

And Ben had stayed with her. From the way he spoke about Them, it seemed like he'd been dealing with these people for a long time. How long had he been running with Gwen? She had to admit, him not being a target did present something almost romantic about his dedication to his girlfriend and protecting her. Again, Osono was assaulted by guilt to realize she'd really screwed things up for the both of them.

As the gun was finally lowered and her shoulders relaxed, she let the heat in the room fade back down to normal temperatures. Not really sure what to say to him and not wanting to apologize for a second time tonight, she turned away from him and headed towards one of the balcony windows. Sliding the glass door open, she rested against the metal frame and let the cool night air flow into the room to help return some of the natural moisture to the room as well.

Looking over at him, she folded her arms, still holding the gun loosely in one hand and sneered a little at him. "You're really weird, you know that?"

It was the closest she would get to an explanation for her behavior or even remotely close to something resembling an apology for threatening him. She wasn't really sure how to talk to him other than that. The truth was, despite feeling considerably more at ease with the current situation, she honestly didn't like Ben. She didn't want to know his real name or anything about him. She didn't want to help him with his foot - whatever the hell was wrong with it - and she didn't really care if he suddenly fell apart because of it.

If she could find Gwen on her own, she would have taken his offer and left him behind. But she couldn't - she didn't even know where to begin and as far as information went, Ben outmatched her by at least 10 miles. As much as she knew about these people, he didn't need her. Hopefully she'd be able to make up for it and be able to contribute in other ways and help fix the situation she'd created.

Looking out the window, she could see La Madeleine's - mostly because of the distant flashing lights of police cars and fire trucks, so she was really guessing that it was the restaurant and not some other fire. There were probably Agents swarming the place because of the fire she'd caused - and no doubt the manager hadn't kept his mouth shut - and they were most likely searching for her trail now. She could now finally agree that possibly Ben was right about that. Setting fires in public wasn't the smartest thing to do. That was when something else he'd said occurred to her.

"Rudy threatened you?" she asked, looking back into the room at him.

In all her time spent with him, Rudy had never indicated that he even knew how to fire a gun let alone the fact that he'd never possess one. There had been times when the little weenie wouldn't shut up about this science fiction show or that freaking comic book and she'd been forced to get physical. She'd done everything from breaking a few of his fingers to pulling his hair and the shrimp had never even raised his voice in anger in response. To hear about him actually having the balls to pull a gun on someone...and kidnap someone... it didn't feel like they could be talking about the same person.

Even though she disliked Ben, she was past not trusting him anymore - at least for now - and she didn't doubt that what he'd said about Quin was true. So, it was out in the open and official now. It was real. Rudy was and had been with Them all along. She wasn't surprised though. Deep down, she'd always known.

"You asked me before why I didn't kill Rudy when I had the chance," she started, lost in thought at first and then looking directly at him. "I guess I could ask you the same thing."

That's as far as that went. She still didn't have an explanation for the way Rudy worked - especially when it had been made more than obvious to her that he'd been involved for years - but she knew it was something akin to pity with a bit of mutual play-acting that always stayed her hand. It was stupid and she was fully responsible for letting Rudy into her life over and over again, so she really wasn't in any place to accuse Ben for not doing what she'd failed to do for almost 6 years.

The room had returned to normal as far as temperature went and with the fading heat also went the rest of her energy, drained from her muscles and bones with the chill of the night air. She'd be lucky if she could create anything right now, and along with the loss of energy came the natural fatigue her body was suffering. Nonchalantly, she reclosed the balcony door, not bothering with the gossamer curtains that got stuck outside.

"Alright, schizo," Ozzie said, tucking the gun back into her pants as she approached where he was sitting on the couch, stopping just a foot away. "If you're going to sleep, can you drag yourself over to bed on your own or do you need me to help you?"

She didn't really want to - in fact the less she had to personally deal with him right now, the better she'd feel - but she was still feeling responsible for everything, even freaking out a moment before and it was the best she could offer by way of amends. Still, she hoped he said "no" and she could leave him to find her own corner of the room - preferably as far from him as possible - to settle down in.

***

"Come on! The way they ended the series was complete genius and should have satisfied all the fans!" a familiar voice said.

She felt stiff and her shoulders ached. Slowly, Gwen found herself sluggishly rising from consciousness and the first thing she became aware of besides the voices in the room, was the aches and pains in her neck and back. She was sitting up in a straight backed wooden chair, the cushions on it barely helping with the way her neck cradled her head against her chest, her hair creating a curtain around her face.

"Nuh-uh, boss," a second voice she'd never heard before said around a mouthful of food. "The whole 'we were dead the whole time' reveal was a total cop-out and the creators need to be euthanized for taking such a lame and unsatisfying direction for the conclusion."

Gwen tried to move slowly, her shoulders and neck screaming in agony, before she realized that her hands were bound together behind the chair with her arms looped through the armrests and her ankles were bound as well. Tugging lightly, and twisting her wrists within the circlets around her forearms, she came to the conclusion that they were cuffs of some kind. Each wrist was encircled by a thin, cable bracelet, but they hooked together in the middle and all her shifting around could not move them. They did not cut into her wrists either but they molded to her skin closely so no matter how she flexed or twisted her arms, the pressure did not shift or move with her but stayed constant. Moving her feet resulted in the same.

"Just-- shut up, Hoskins!" the first voice, which she now identified as Rudy, sputtered in irritation. "You obviously didn't listen to anything Jack's father said in the church and you don't really understand what happened in the Epilogue! Lost was an epic series and as soon as I file the paperwork I'm demoting you for your lack of taste!" He let out a frustrated sigh before continuing. "Look, she's finally waking up."

Blinking and squinting at the light in the room, Gwen opened her eyes and slowly looked around, memory flooding back to her in a rush. Even as she looked around and took in the lavish hotel room - a very modern design, all black, red, grey and white with smooth surfaces and sharply sloping angles with very little design and details - she was frantically reaching out for Alex and Xander. Nothing. They weren't anywhere nearby. Reaching out even further, extending her powers as far as they would go, she still came up with nothing. She did learn however, from eavesdropping on a few others within the mile radius that they were in Hammondsport - how had they gotten here so fast? How long had she been out? And where was Alex?

"Hey, sleepy head," Rudy said in a chipper voice, leaning his elbows on the table to leer at her from his seat. As she looked back at him, she noticed that the blood was gone and he had small adhesive bandages keeping the split in his scalp together. Other than that and the slightly perceptible bruising along one side of his face, centralized around his forehead and cheekbone, he looked no worse for wear. "Surprisingly, I guess you weigh less than Osono, since that pharmaceutical sample I gave you should have knocked you out for much longer." He returned to the lobster on his plate and used it to gesture with as he shrugged. "My own fault really. I totally misconstrued the content of that globular mass on the back of your hips."

Gwen blinked slowly at him. Was....was he calling her fat? Probing his mind she was met once again by that silent wall he'd had up since they'd been on the bus together. But the other man sitting at the table with him - and enjoying a very succulent steak - was an open book. Vince Hoskins was a 25 year old low level Agent, newly recruited to Ozzie's case as an in-field assistant to Rudy. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened to the team that had the case before him since the reports were extremely vague on the matter, but he wasn't exactly the questioning type. So far, Rudy hadn't made a very good impression, besides his friendly tendency to talk a lot, but Vince just wanted to keep his head down and finish this assignment without any trouble. He didn't have a perfect record, but it was all the more reason to not screw anything up if he could help it. Despite Rudy's constant promises to demote those on his team for arguing with him, so far, they seemed superficial threats at best.

"Anyways, since we made such good time on this delivery so far and your ass-face boyfriend seems to have abandoned you as a lost cause," Rudy continued, airily breaking open the bright orangish red claw in his hand. "I decided to stop for the night and have a big meal and a nice warm bed. The car was nice and all, but your phone-crushing ass was hogging the backseat."

Along with the jab about Alex, clarity came to her at that last comment. Okay, so, he was still pissed about her accidentally falling on his cell phone. Jesus, the guy was a bigger baby than Xander. At that thought it made her wonder worriedly if he really had given up on her. Would Alex let him? They didn't have much time left to get Xander into his body. Would he waste time to chase after her? Again, she found herself reaching out for him and felt herself start to choke up a bit to realize she was completely alone with this psycho who had a grudge. And delivery...?

"You hungry, tubby?" he asked while digging out the meat from the shell, pausing in between swallows to address her as if they were friends. "I'm sorry to say you missed the fajitas earlier, but we still have a few more options for you - the room service is excellent here. Since stone-cold Steph is an old friend of mine, I feel obligated to keep you in somewhat nice condition for when I finally hand you over, so it seems only fair after ruining your dinner earlier, that I offer an alternative."

Gwen had been looking around the room and probing the floor they were on for anyone outside who might be of assistance - the most she learned was that they were on the top floor, alone, and they were staying in a modern hotel called the "Quartieri" - but she instantly looked at him with wide eyes when he mentioned Stephanie.

A small smirk appeared on his face as he watched her reaction and he said, "So you know your Agent's name, huh? No surprise there, with what you can supposedly do. I looked into it. She doesn't keep any detailed Agency files on you, but I had a friend of mine hack her personal computer and we found a shit-ton of information." He dipped a long, slender piece of meat into a small bowl of melted butter and slurped it into his mouth. "I knew some of these transfer Agents got obsessed, but Steph takes the cake. File after file of audio of just you breathing. It's some really sick and fucked up shit." He rolled his eyes and then paused as if he thought of something else. "Course, then again, it IS Stephanie. I wouldn't be surprised if she also collected your old clothes and wore them in her private time."

Gwen was barely listening or paying much attention to him anymore as fear started to grip her by the throat. Stephanie. He was taking her to Stephanie! Alex wasn't here to protect her and there was nothing stopping the woman from inserting herself into Gwen's body if she wanted to! She couldn't let that happen! At least not without a fight. Frantically, she started to think of a plan while keeping herself as outwardly calm as she could.

Rudy suddenly snapped his fingers at Vince and pointed to the myriad of covered dishes arrayed on the black shining tabletop. "Feed her," he said to Hoskins, instantly turning back to his own meal and fully expecting his order to be obeyed. For a moment, Vince's face fell and his thin shoulders slumped, but he got up without complaint, only glancing at Gwen once. Looking over the different dishes and uncovering a few, he selected a pasta dish with bow tie noodles and a heavy, meaty sauce.

In the middle of chewing, Rudy shook his head and waved his hand in a canceling gesture. "Dude, that is full of carbs. Give her the chicken. The cow could use something lean in her gut for once." Again, Vince made no complaint as he reached for the lemon garlic chicken, but internally he berated his boss for the choice. Apparently, the chicken had been Hoskins next choice for a meal selection and he was sore for being made to give it to her.

Begrudgingly, Hoskins came around to her side of the table and set the plate down in front of her. Unfurling one of the black, silk napkins, he tucked it into the front of her shirt politely, and began to cut the thick chicken breast into medium bite-sized pieces. Realizing that she was still very hungry, Gwen opened her mouth willingly when he offered the first bite on the end of a fork, seemingly not wanting to get too close to her.

Having finished his lobster, Rudy started to pull Vince's plate over to himself as he asked, "Hey, you done with this? Looks delicious. I'll finish it up for you."

Startled, Hoskins turned to watch as his boss began to systematically finish the steak he'd been savoring, his mouth opening to protest but nothing coming out before it closed again. Angrily, Vince turned back to Gwen and forcefully stabbed the next bite and shoved it in her face. Fuck! And he calls the girl fat! If he weren't an A-3, I'd shoot a hole through his bottomless gut!

Swallowing the piece he'd given her, Gwen jumped on the opportunity and whispered in a low voice that echoed, " You should."

Slowly, Hoskins looked at her, blinking sluggishly as he lowered the fork with the next bite on it and stood from his seat. He was just angry enough that he was following her thought, but when he turned with his weapon pointed at Rudy, he stopped.

Rudy's chewing slowed as his eyes met the barrel of the gun in his face and he quickly looked Hoskins over and then glanced at Gwen. "Dude, relax. I'll get you another one, if you're really that pissy about it."

Hoskins arm trembled a little and sweat started to bead on his forehead. "B-boss..." he murmured anxiously, filled with doubt. Gwen didn't have time to let him change his mind; she needed to get out of here and getting rid of Rudy was the quickest way.

" Do it!" she said loudly, panic filling her even as she mentally shoved him.

It worked to get Hoskins' finger on the trigger and the gun clicked loudly as it loaded, even as Vince nervously gulped. Instantly, Rudy set aside his silverware and held his hands up a little, staring Hoskins straight in the eye.

"I want you to think about what you're doing right now. This isn't something you would normally do, is it? Think about your career and what will happen next after you pull that trigger. Do you honestly think that will be the end of it?" Vince was trembling even more now but he did not lower the weapon, keeping it aimed at Rudy's forehead from a foot away. "Just put it down. It's not your fault, buddy, alright? She's messing with your head right now and you need to regain control of yourself. You're not going to get in trouble for this - I promise - but you need to put it down right now."

Gwen could feel Rudy's empathetic tone starting to click inside Vince's head as he took big gasping lungfuls of air. " Shoot him!" she yelled in desperation, shaking her cuffs, her voice reverberating against the walls before fading. But it was no use, he was already lowering his gun, letting it fall from limp fingers. Helplessly, Gwen whimpered as she saw the charged light on the top of the gun slowly fade.

Standing fluidly, Rudy came up to Hoskins and put his hand on the man's shoulder as he profusely began to stutter an apology. "Boss...I'm so sorry... I don't know what happened... I swear, I would never...!"

Then the air crackled and burned with energy as a discharge was emitted from the gun Rudy had used before and Vince fell in a lifeless heap on the ground by the table. "Yeah, yeah, yeah-pffft!" he said, sticking out his tongue and making a small noise at the corpse.

Gwen was busy staring at the body of the fallen man - the man she'd basically gotten killed - so she wasn't paying attention to Rudy until he was standing right in front of her, carelessly kicking the body out of his way. When she looked up though, her vision exploded in black and white stars and her head whipped violently to the side when his fist slammed into her face. Her head reeled for several moments as pain filled her cheek, but she was gasping in fright a moment later as Rudy surged forward and grabbed her face, turning her to look at him.

"I want to explain something to you, since it might not be clear to your simple mind. I assume following logic is not in your skill set, so I know it's hard but let's do it together - that's what she said," he smiled cheerfully but from the tension in his body and filling the fingers that dug into her cheeks, it was more than obvious he was ready to snap her neck. "I hate you. The only reason you're alive right now, is because I need to use you to help clean up a little mess I made with some of my Agency friends. Believe me when I say, I didn't plan for you and I certainly don't have a plan for being without you. But as you can see, I have no trouble scrapping ideas that just don't seem to work at any given moment. I'm kinda a bit ADD like that."

He got closer to her and she shrunk back defensively, flinching at the cold look in his eyes. "Do not think for a minute that you're not disposable. Despite the attention the Agency has given you up to this point, you are NOT somebody special. You are NOT somebody important. You're nothing but a potential guinea pig - a plaything for people with the means and desire to manipulate the flesh and lives of others. Your death will be as much a loss as if one were to melt a plastic toy soldier in a kit of thousands. No one is going to save you. No one is going to help you - as you can see, I'm not afraid to destroy the lives of innocents that get in my way or pose a threat. If you want to live to see Stephanie, then I suggest you do the smart thing and mimic an actual mail package. Anything less than that, and I'll fill you with bullets and walk away to find something new to do."

With a harsh jerk, he released her and stood back up, seeming to regain his earlier demeanor within a few seconds. Glancing at Hoskins' body he looked back at her and said, "I also hope you know that this," he indicated the corpse. "Means you won't be eating for the rest of the trip, since I can't be arsed to hand-feed you." He looked her up and down tied as she was to her chair before continuing. "But from the looks of it, you could stand to lose a few pounds, eh, Jabba?"

After that, he returned to his seat and continued to eat while Gwen fought the urge to cry. God, where the hell was Alex? She couldn't do this on her own...

***

Stephanie moved over to her seat as she let Jason handle the explanations, keeping her newly acquired ice pack on her knuckles and occasionally checking the swelling. She would have said something in addition to Jason's words, especially with the small quips Benoit kept making, but decided the smartest thing to do was to keep her mouth shut. It would look too much like she was being defensive if she decided to add anything. So, even as Benoit drunkenly murmured about "love" being between her and Jason, she kept her stony expression and ignored him.

Besides, she had enough problems already without adding to the suspicions the two other men already had. For one thing, even with just one dose of the Atropytamine, she could feel the familiar withdrawal gnawing at her. She'd dealt with this before, so she knew what to expect - mostly, it would just feel like gravity had added 100 pounds to her body for a couple of hours and she might end up becoming a bit emotional - but it didn't make the rest of the plane ride any more fun. Mostly, she was willing to suffer through it, because the withdrawal itself made her realize that Jason had been right. She remembered what the drugs were like and what they could do and it was not smart to tie herself down with them, no matter how much it would help to erase her emotions that way. Especially not when the only drugs she had left right now were of a much higher strength than she'd ever tried before. She'd just have to let herself ween off the Atropytamine and by the time they landed in Charlton, she'd be free of it. Hopefully.

And for another thing, she was worried about how Jason was reacting to what had happened. He didn't say much and she wasn't sure if he was putting on an act looking all pouty to throw off suspicion, but it made her nervous nonetheless. She'd basically admitted everything to him - bore her soul in not so many words. Did he feel rejected because she wasn't willing to ruin her carrier just to become involved with him? Or possibly it was what she'd said afterward that had made him feel like she was caging him in? Stephanie didn't understand it and everything was too complicated for her to work through it without speaking to him again.

When Eric offered her a drink, she shook her head slowly, still lost in thought. No, that was definitely something she didn't need right now, not when her impulses were already so loose. She needed to focus on the case on getting Gwen and fulfilling her destiny. When the stewardess walked by, Stephanie stopped her and softly inquired about anything sweet she might have to snack on. When the woman brought her some thin, shortbread cookies, Stephanie opened the bag on her lap and began to lightly chew on one.

Even with her firm belief in this case and love of the Agency and what it stood for, at this particular moment, she was just emotionally fragile enough to let her mind wander. Maybe she'd been mistaken about Jason's responses to her in the bathroom. It had been years since she'd been with anyone and she was a little rusty on what the different reactions meant. It was strange, especially since at one point, she'd been so well-versed in seduction and manipulation.

Thinking about Jason made her remember why she'd taken the Gwen Stewart case and why she'd applied for body transfer in the first place: her life sucked. Not only was she a horrible person who could do nothing but get enjoyment out of hurting others, but she was incapable of connecting with others. Gwen not only wrote about the hope that love could bring and the healing itr caused between two souls, but she lived it everyday of her life. Even after the incident with the stalker, Gwen still finished her last book in the Nightshade series and it was the perfect happily ever after anyone could ask for.

Stephanie wanted that. Not just the fluffy romantic love in the words that Gwen wrote, but the unshakable optimism that lived in the other woman's heart. Gwen had no trouble finding others who were willing to love her, and she never held back her own emotions from them. Something Stephanie had thought she'd been capable of at one point... and recently had tricked herself into thinking once again...

Glancing at Jason, she thought back over what had happened in the restroom and how he was acting now and she knew that even if things were okay..they could never be together. He'd never want her. Nobody would.

Suddenly, without warning, a sorrowful gasp left her throat and tears began to stream down her face. Setting her cookies aside, she held a hand up to her mouth as she started to weep openly, turning her face away from the others on the plane towards the window. For several moments, her shoulders continued to shake as she silently cried, and the flight attendant, concerned, tapped her shoulder briefly, offering her a small plastic wrapped stack of tissues.

Defensively angry, Stephanie jerked them out of the other woman's hands and glared at her through her tears. "Beat it, wench!" she said through an emotional voice. The flight attendant took a moment to flinch before scurrying away, and Stephanie began to unwrap the tissues, sniffling as she dabbed them at her eyes and cleaned her face off. This couldn't get any worse, and she couldn't look any more pathetic.

After the tears finally stopped, she began to feel restless and gently kicked off her high heels, letting her bare feet rub against the smooth carpeting. Grabbing up her bag of cookies, she left her seat to sit Indian style on the floor in front of Benoit. She didn't say anything about her little emotional outburst and tried not to look at Jason as she offered Benoit some of her cookies before taking another for herself.

"When Quin finally delivers Gwen, I hope you'll understand if I leave you to do whatever with Alexander," she said, returning to her usual monotone. "I want to start setting her up for the body transfer as soon as possible." She did look at Jason then, but quickly discarded him from thought a moment later. It did not help anything to dwell on the things she could not have. She needed to focus on the future already laid out for her, lest she lose everything.

[Tartra]

‘Schizo’, huh? What’d put that idea in her head?

“I’m going to stay here,” he said. “I need every second of rest I can get if I’m really going to move tomorrow.”

The crisis was over, everyone was intact, and the painful tension in his neck that hadn’t come from his foot had started to peel away. There must have been an angel watching over them, because there was no way he’d been responsible for anything that’d changed her mind. He was terrible at standoffs. Alex blamed a lack of practise, but it wasn’t his fault they always boiled down to staring contests and it wasn’t his fault if he had a good trick to win those when they happened. He didn’t know if it would’ve helped back then, though. With her on the edge of exploding, he might’ve gotten away with killing her, but his seizure-death-ray could’ve also been the trigger her powers needed to volcano the entire hotel.

Working with her was going to be a mixed bag. If patience wasn’t her virtue, they’d have to rely on her strength, and while he knew he’d have to wait before he asked what she could do – at least until he got the gun off her, he couldn’t risk her thinking he was sizing her up – if he didn’t get an answer soon, he’d either walk her to her death by sticking her in something she wasn’t ready for, ruin his plan by backing out at the last minute or severely exceeding his expectations, or run him to his grave after getting sideswiped by a move she’d quietly kept up her sleeve. Not that he wasn’t guilty of that. She knew he could fight – part of him could – but the insight stopped there if he wasn’t letting her in on it. One mistake, one misplaced look, one step in the way of what of other was trying to do, and she’d be frothing on the ground while his skin melted from his back.

Teamwork. That was their answer. It was an obvious solution, but he shook his head. To get that to work, they’d need more trust than what they were shuffling around. He had a feeling she wouldn’t’ve been so quick to aim a bullet at his face if she didn’t hate him. Maybe later he could talk her into chalking it up to stress somehow. He’d get Xander to do it.

Or you could try not being a douchebag and see how that works.

... Or he could get Xander to do it.

You’re never gonna learn if you don’t try it yourself..

There’d be time for that later. Right now, they needed to make sure the tension in here was down around ‘tolerant’, and if he sucked at standoffs, how did Xander think playing nice was going to go? Every time he blinked, he saw shadows in a fire falling to the ground, and on the back of his neck were faint beads of sweat from the sauna she’d cooked up a second ago. Better let the professional handle it so she didn’t see how little he meant whatever apology she might’ve wanted. They’d told her they didn’t want her following them off the bus, and even if it hadn’t been explicitly stated, they’d damn well laid it on thick enough for her to have picked it up. He couldn’t believe she –

“Before you run off –” Alex froze, waiting on the unbelievable torment to spring up from his foot. “– I should say thanks for helping out with those Agents. Considering the fiesta I was having with your evil-almost-boyfriend, who by the way, really needs to work on that basic bathroom etiquette, something worse could’ve happened to Gwen than getting picked up. This way, we have a shot at saving her.” Xander shrugged, like he was making the best out of it. “So thanks. Even if you made the same mistake I did. Damn – I needed one of ‘em alive. Damn, damn.”

Now we’ve gotta go on a hunt and find one of those assholes, he went on muttering. Just one code and we’ll get in. That’s it. That’s all I need.

Alex would keep an eye out. Mostly, though, he was going to take it easy. Xander hadn’t stuck him with the full weight of his miserable limb, but a solid ache had come out of it when he’d split his attention to talk to Osono. He reached out to rub it, had his hand yanked away – almost thrown into his face – and got another ache for his wasted effort. Disappointed even that was enough to make it worse, he looked at the woman again and tried to smile. It came out tight-lipped and forced. He was hammering that first impression home, wasn’t he?

“So good night,” he said lamely, unsure of what else to do and guessing that a wave goodbye wouldn’t be so bad. It sure as hell looked stupid when he did it, but he felt he got his point across. “I’ll wake you if I’m up first, if you’re sure you want to come.”

She did. That was the weird thing. She seemed genuinely interested in helping out on this.

Maybe Gwen got in her head. OoooOOOOoooOOOooooh!

That could’ve been the reason. It wasn’t out of a debt to him. Alex almost wanted to think it was possible, but Gwen only had her powers for two days. Would they be strong enough for that, especially from wherever they’d dragged her? She hadn’t talked to them yet. What if it’d already...?

They haven’t done the transfer yet.

“Glad to hear you sound so sure.”

He meant it. Alex had had his fill of Xander being human. Outside of the restaurant, plainly admitting she was gone, had flipped his stomach harder than the showdown he’d had with their new ‘friend’. No more of that again. Ever. He’d take the childishly self-absorbed robot over what the hell that’d been any day.

Well, excuse me. I didn’t realize you were gagging for an Agent after all the bitching you pulled on me.

“If we’re up against Agents, we need an Agent,” Alex concluded. “Stay focused. I’ve told you that before.”

Probably, but I wouldn’t know. You say a lot of shit I don’t listen to. His back moved as if he was trying to sit up. Get me paper.

“... What for?”

To write on, you idiot. That was more suspicious than just wanting paper. Since when did he write anyone? Since someone wanted to waste a night on fucking sleep instead of hauling ass to Charlton. I need to make this worth it. And anyway, I could use better company than your foot.

Alex sighed. He lowered his eyes to rest on his shoe. There was no way it was ever coming off – and if it did, there was absolutely no way it’d go back on.

“Are you going to be okay to watch it? Are you... tired or anything?”

Paper.

He looked around. There was a fancy-edged pad on the corner of the coffee table. With a good stretch, he nudged it over, managing to keep the silver pen from rolling off. Xander used his left hand to drop the pad on his chest, deftly clicking the end of it and immediately getting to work.

“... Uh...” Alex squinted. “You’re doing it in Braille?”

Russian Braille. In case anyone gets sticky fingers.

“... Alright.” Ten points for creativity, but he felt uncomfortable like this. “Would you mind using my right hand? I –”

Nope. Gonna write through the night, I need the hand with the stronger grip. You stud, you.

“Xander.”

Go to bed. Your voice is bothering me.

Even if the guy couldn’t see it, Alex glared at him. He got the idea Xander thought it was funny before he felt his eyes close. Fine, fine. He’d go to sleep. It was the reason he’d wanted to stay here in the first place.

“You’re sure they haven’t done the transfer? She’s okay?”

If you’re worried, get up and let’s go.

The pen was lightly jabbing him like a machine, uniform and constant in its movements. Xander seemed absorbed in it already. Absently, a thin tingling came over his wounded heel. Hopefully, he didn’t get attacked by it tonight.

“How long did it take for you to transfer?”

A week. Shut up.

“Why a week? I thought –”

Old tech, now it’s new tech. Shut up.

Alex did, for nearly a second. With his eyes forced into darkness, he was beginning to realize how un-tired he was. He’d pay for that in the morning, he knew. For now, he asked, “What’re you writing?”

‘A hundred ways to kick Alex’s ass if he doesn’t shut the fuck up and go to sleep’.

Ah, one more couldn’t hurt.

“Where’d you learn Russian? And Braille?”

I’m very seriously considering putting this pen through your neck.

“Are you Russian? Are you blind? Are you left-handed? Is that –” The light jabbing stopped. “I’m just curious. It’s not like I won’t find out in a day anyway.”

Then it won’t be a long wait. Now if you’d kindly close your trap so I can think, I’d be much obliged. He went back to writing. Can’t keep wasting my strength on babysitting. And you know this is twice you’ve gypped me out of a bed. In a row.

“I’m sure she won’t mind if you crawl in,” Alex grunted. “I give it ten minutes before you try to sleep with her anyway, and fifteen before you do.”

Poppycock. It wouldn’t take that long.

“Mind the burning sensation. There’s probably eight ways to get it from her.”

And you’re surprised she doesn’t like you. Fire’s a sterilizer, f-y-i.

“I didn’t ask for her to like me. I don’t care. She’s here to get us to Charlton and then she can throw herself on the next bus and ruin someone else’s life,” Alex told him. “What makes Gwen so special she suddenly wants to help? There’s no reason for her to put her life on the line.”

Mm.

“That’s a lousy answer.”

Dude.

“Okay, I’m sleeping,” Alex said, sick of talking to him anyway. “Good night. Wake me up.”

I went from a high-class assassin to a glorified alarm clock. These’re tough times.

Alex dropped away faster than he’d thought. The tiny bit of satisfaction he got out of it was knowing he’d been right about needing to rest. In the morning, he swore he wouldn’t stop until he found her again.

... In the meantime, he’d dream up a way to hate Osono less. It’d be in everyone’s best interest.

* * *

Was she crying?

“Oh, no,” Eric tut-tutted. “That won’t do. I can’t nap when there’s tears.”

Fortunately for him, Jason’s lead handled the problem alone. She’d gotten up and settled down beside Benoit, who’d graciously accepted her offer and come back with his own: a full glass pushed into her hand whether she wanted it or not.

“Believe me when I say we’ll all need more of that to get through this,” Benoit said. “Except for Eric. He’s powered by loathing and the blood of children.”

“Speaking of which!” Eric had his phone out and was dialling excitedly. “Thanks for reminding me, Benny. I’ve gotta check on little Nay-Nay.”

He did that. He was chatting instantly with an Agent on his team.

“I don’t trust this ‘Quin’,” Jason said. “He’s going to hand deliver our target? Why waste the time? He should’ve dropped her off in the care of someone else and gone back to work catching his.”

“You sound upset,” Benoit said. “Shouldn’t you be thrilled your work is done?”

Not in the slightest. With his target apprehended, there was no shot at redemption left for him. He didn’t want her to escape again – time to let her powers grow would make her virtually invincible – but he needed something to do. If that ‘Quin’ was going to get the glory for bringing in his lead’s pet, the suit slayer, then maybe there’d be hope for him there, too. If he found a way to get to the fire woman...

“Nathan! How’s Elmira treatin’ you?” Eric nodded like he was listening intently. “Good, good – glad to hear you’re rested up. Who’s watching you? ...Well – great! Put ‘er on!”

“What do you think happened to his target?” Jason wasn’t entirely comfortable asking any of them a question. If the A-1 was on the phone and his lead was... something... then it meant he was stuck asking Benoit. If the man had just a little less poise, he would’ve been singing about now. Jason certainly would have, but it turned out Frenchie was better with wine than he’d ever be. “Do you she ran off?”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

Jason tried to ignore that answer in favour of having a little hope. Benoit didn’t know the girl; his speciality began and ended at Alexander. Then again, he was probably talking of out common sense. If he’d changed plans to grab someone else and take off, would he honestly expect his target to wait around?

“You’re keeping him fed and everything, right? I know it’s only been a few hours, but I worry. I mean – the last time a certain someone let him prance around on his own, he ran into Alex after a week. Can you imagine the work I would’ve wasted if he let it slip I’m alive? Xander would not be happy and then I would not be happy,” Eric said, picking at the end of Jean’s shirt. He seemed sombre now. His voice was still loud, but it was softer than it’d been before. “Where’s that head I asked for?”

He hadn’t done anything with the bottle Eric had passed over. He’d simply let it sit on his thigh, on its edge, idly picking at the cap with his glove. On the one hand, it wouldn’t make anything worse. On the one hand, he could use something to lose his stress. On the one hand, it beat having to not think about his lead and what she was up to. On the other... there was... probably a good reason or two.

He opened the bottle.

“I’m going to take it as permission to drink if the rest of you are doing it,” he said.

“Peer pressure,” Benoit said. “You aren’t very reliable on the ‘think for yourself’ front. You should work to improve that.”

“Thanks.” Jason opened it faster.

Click. Eric snapped his phone shut. The man was back in that world of his for a while, until he turned around and smiled serenely. Jason couldn’t quite make it out from where he was sitting, which was immediately behind the A-1, but it looked as if his eyes had fallen on his lead.

“You’re more than welcome to do whatever you need to make sure your job is done,” Eric said, “but I have to supervise. And frankly, I’d prefer to have it done in Elmira. I trust the equipment there more than any backwoods lab.” His head craned to face Jason. “As for you – oh, I certainly hope she isn’t gone. Big plans for her. It’d be nice if I could talk to the lead in charge, but apparently –” He wiggled his phone at all of them with a distinct air of annoyance. “– no one’s picking up.”

“I’ll order the caskets,” Benoit replied.

“Would you? I’ve had my people ring their people for two minutes and nothing. They’ve got orders to keep trying but...” He shrugged. “I dunno. Someone’s getting fired – that’s all I can say.”

Jason had missed the joke. Eric was laughing again.

“What do you want us to do? Find our target and bring her to Elmira? That opens the door to another chance at escape,” Jason explained. “We should keep the distance we have to travel with our case as small as possible. Charlton might not be as advanced, but it’ll do the trick. It’s safer.”

“That’s very reasonable of you to say. And very true,” Eric said. “Let me ask you this: what about Alex?”

Jason frowned.

“What about him?”

Benoit was offended.

“From what we know,” Eric began, “Alex and Gwen are on their way – were on their way – to Charlton to do a wonderful, fluttery, butterfly reverse-transfer. That puts him on a direct collision course with where we’re going this instant. Owing to the fact Alex was in miserable shape leaving our happy home, it’d make sense for them to want to continue what they’d started, get his body back, then make a play to save his dear lady. But we have a jet.” He waved his hand at the window in the case they’d forgotten they were in the air. “We beat Alex to Charlton, we get your Gwen, we whiz over to Elmira, then Xander has to drag a bloodied corpse a full trip and a half to find us. Trust me: going to Elmira boosts our chances. That is safer.”

It didn’t matter if Jason found a hole in his logic. Eric was sitting forward again, relaxing in his seat. He must not have wanted to discuss it any further. As if to prove it, the sense of him returning to his thoughts flooded the cabin and brought on a hefty silence. Jason couldn’t bring himself to break it by asking for a glass, so he did the considerate thing and drank from the bottle. With any luck, no one planned on sharing with him. With even more luck, by the end of the hour, there’d be none left to share.

[Guest]

Oh, good! That was a relief! Not only did she not need to haul his cripple ass up and tuck him in, she got the bed too! And Osono didn't even pause to think of the pain she'd seen him display both here and at the restaurant and how he probably needed the bed more than she did right now. If he didn't want it - whether out of some chivalrous notion because she was a woman or because he was too pathetic to limp from one space to the next - she wasn't going to play some stupid social game of "No, you go ahead, I insist!" just to convince him he was wrong. In her mind, if you offered, then you expected it to be taken - just as she had when asking if he needed the help in the first place. Not her fault if he wanted to screw around and play "nice guy" games without knowing she didn't participate in bullshit.

So, she was understandably eager to get to it - not only to explore the kind of crib this place housed, and to get the hell away from his creepy ass but also because she was incredibly tired herself - and ground her teeth together as he stopped her to continue talking. But she paused as it sounded like he was actually grateful for her involvement back at the restaurant. And here she'd been under the impression that she'd done nothing but screwed his whole freaking life up and thoroughly disgusted him with how she'd dealt with the Agents on her end. She waited for him to get touchy-feely about it, but he didn't and kept it pretty low-key and distant while still allowing her some amount of praise in her efforts. It almost made her want to insist he take the bed. Almost.

Then he said something about needing one of the Agents alive and she assumed it was for the same reason she'd planned on finding one of them before he'd let her join him. So that was a bit disheartening. Apparently he wasn't so chock full of information as she'd originally thought and these Agent-people still had something more that he needed. She didn't know why but she'd been hoping when he'd said he had a "plan" back there, that he actually knew where he was going and what he was suppose to be doing. Maybe she'd get to set her public fire afterall.

Ozzie tapped her booted foot lightly for a few moments, waiting for him to say something in conclusion when her eyes drew back up to watch him spaz out a little with his hand. She raised a curious eyebrow that instantly vanished as he did something that REALLY sent a shiver up her spine - the jerk freaking smiled at her. Needless to say, the moment was incredibly awkward and Ozzie couldn't help the slight curl to her lip and narrowed gaze she gave him in return - who the fuck are you smiling at?

And then he was uttering the magic words and she quickly turned from him, not even waiting to see him wave dumbly at her. If he never pulled that kind of facial expression with her ever again, it would be too soon. And even though it had been extremely awkward, as she was walking away from him towards the part of the room that was sectioned off for the bedroom, she did actually appreciate him saying what he did. She could have guessed from him allowing her to come with him that he appreciated her help on some level...but it was still kinda nice to hear it.

That got her to remember the reason they were even together - this was for Gwen. He'd made no secret that he blamed her for what had happened and although it had just occurred when he'd told her off at the restaurant and could be blamed on trauma and stress or whatever, it was more than clear that he didn't like her. And from her own behavior back, he would have to be a dense idiot not to realize the feeling was mutual. But if he was willing to set that aside enough to make the situation better for the goal they were both striving for, then she was too. For Gwen. But she curled her lip again as she closed the dark wood doors separating this part of the room from the other, silently praying that he didn't expect her to get mushy or soft or anything stupid like that. She didn't usually like people and Rudy put up with a lot of abuse - to the point where it almost seemed like he liked it sometimes. She'd need to get used to traveling with someone and not being a bitch constantly. Hopefully they'd find Gwen quick.

Turning to look into the room, Osono stopped sneering instantly, her face blossoming in her own version of a smile as she regarded the bed she'd get all to herself.

***

As the wine-glass was placed in her hand, Stephanie politely took it from Benoit, pleased on some level to be sharing "snacks" with him, but she did not drink from it and just let the glass rest on her folded thigh as the conversation continued. She understood what he meant and a part of her agreed, but another part of her was still worried about her loss of control of the EDP. And already, she was feeling the weight of the Atropytamine starting to press more and more on her shoulders. It was a contest to keep focused on the conversation while still keeping her back straight and stop herself from slouching. Alcohol might help relax the effects but it would also loosen other things about her that really didn't need any more loosening as it was.

When Jason voiced his concerns about Quin, Stephanie wasn't really sure what to say at the moment. When she'd been in training to become an Agent, Rudy had been a part of the same group as she was and under the same supervisor. Back then, she'd been involved with doing her own thing and enjoying life before she needed to buckle down and get serious. But from what little she remembered of the other Agent was from the times he made a spectacle of himself during training and the intimate affair they'd had.

He'd been into the scene and willingly became one of her toys at the time, but he was not a true submissive personality. Although he gained a certain amount of pleasure from being forced to do things by an authority figure, there was always something under the surface with him, some private part of himself held in reserve that never gave in. And he was a manipulative little bastard. She wasn't sure what he had planned as far as bringing Gwen to her, but she knew there was going to be a string attached to the gift. But another thing she remembered about Quin was that he had a tendency to half-plan, so she was depending on that for whatever ace he thought he had up his sleeve.

While Eric had been on the phone, Stephanie had been paying only slight attention, nibbling on her cookies and listening to Benoit slur at Jason in their little back and forth. But when the phone clicked shut, her focus fell on the A-1 and she felt her eyes get wide and her gaze hard as he mentioned taking Gwen to Elmira for the transfer. Everything seemed to fall away from her then and for several seconds she struggled with the urge to scream. No! She'd planned for Charlton! All she needed to do was hold on until Charlton! This flip-flopping around would take longer and keep her from her goals for an even longer time! She didn't want to! She wouldn't!

As always, her partner anticipated the appropriate questions to ask and voiced them - as far as observations and gathering information together, he still had that skill regardless of whether the suit was helping him or not. Eric's elaborated explanation got her to understand and calm down about it, but she didn't like it any more than she had before. Of course it made sense and she knew Alex would jeopardize everything if he were present while she was trying to get what was rightfully hers, but still! The delay seemed to add another weight onto her shoulders and it was becoming harder and harder to bear.

Letting out a stressed breath, and without pausing to think about it, she took up the glass Benoit had given her and quickly emptied it with several gulps. She'd never been a very big wine drinker, but from as far as she could tell, it was fairly decent and a certain numbness descended in her shoulders where the current pressure had been building. Silently, she tipped the glass at Benoit and he willingly poured her another from his bottle. In the middle of her third glass was when she finally decided to slow down, the weight in her shoulders mellowing out until she couldn't even feel it any more.

Lounging back on the floor and holding herself up with one stiff arm, she unfurled her legs and let her bare feet rub into the carpet, tipping her head back to regard the lights in the cabin. She could wait until Elmira. Everything was finally coming together and the road ahead seemed to twist and swerve perilously, but the goal was in sight and within reach. And this thing with Jason, whatever it was anymore, she wouldn't let it get in her way.

That thought made her think of how he'd been in the restroom with her, the pressure of his hands on her shoulders as he'd pushed her back into the wall. She'd wanted to break him, to uncover his hidden self, to find out what made him tick. She'd only been playing for most of the trip, without any regard for things actually going anywhere. He'd been an idle distraction and something to occupy her time while she pursued her target. A toy to play with and then toss away when it was time to get down to business.

But what had happened in there had been serious. She'd let herself become excited by the prospect of owning him, willing for at least 10 whole minutes to throw away everything she'd planned for in pursuit of him. And then the way he'd reacted... She wanted that. It wasn't possible and it wasn't ever going to be possible, but she couldn't deny the fact that she greatly desired to be his. For the first time since she'd become a Lead Agent, she found herself torn between her desire to continue with her mission and her desire to stay as she was. For the first time...she actually had the desire to stay.

They sat brooding in silence for almost an hour before she started to feel uncomfortable sitting on the floor. With a soft, breathy groan, she rose from the ground and stretched slightly, taking her still half-full glass with her as she wandered over to Jason's seat. Gently, she nudged his arm out of the way with her hip as she perched upon his armrest and clung to the back part of his chair to keep herself sitting and balancing there, half-leaning into his personal space.

"As soon as I heard about it, I was smitten by the idea of the body transfer," she said softly. It had been a while since Eric had said anything, and although she didn't want to disturb him and kept her voice low, she was at a point where she didn't really care. "Not just the glamorous allure of gaining someone's powers and being able to wield them as my own - although that is certainly nice, it wasn't what really hooked me about the process. It was more the process itself - sucking your mind and consciousness out of your body and placing it into someone else's. The ultimate domination of someone's life from the inside out. To become someone else..." To not be me.

"It was with that in mind that I've prepared all these years. I gathered as much as I could know about her - everything, right down to the last detail, until the cadences of her life were so ingrained within me, it was like I already was her. Grooming myself for the final transformation." She adjusted her position slightly on the armrest, allowing her body to brush close to him for a moment and practically sitting in his lap. "I knew exactly when her powers were meant to awaken, predicted everything accurately about what we were to expect from her."

For a moment or two she fell silent, her leg curling under his to rub the top of her bare foot against the back of his calf and ankle in a small, hidden gesture. She didn't know why she was confiding in him. It wasn't like it would change anything. But for some reason at that particular moment, she wanted him to know these things and she didn't see a point in stopping once she'd started. It occurred to her that Benoit and Eric were still within ear-shot, but that didn't seem to matter either. "By the time I finally gave the order for her capture, I didn't even really consider myself as me anymore, but a shadow of her. Do you know what it's like to suddenly wake up and not recognize yourself? It's both beautiful and terrifying."

Glancing out the window beside him, dawn was quickly approaching in just a few hours more, the black-blue of the sky already chasing away some of the stars. She drained her glass and looked at the emptiness within the belly of the cup. "Don't worry about Rudy," she said, her voice returning to the icy monotone and her tattered mask fitting back in place. "From the conversation I had with him, he seemed to be under the impression that he was in some sort of trouble - which being responsible for the death of Eric's men at the restaurant, he is. And he seems to be under the delusion that he has something with which to bargain. I have a few ideas of what it might be, because of our history together, but it's nothing to worry about. Like with everything, he underestimates everyone involved, especially me. If he knew any better, he'd understand that when it comes to her, I'm not fucking around with bullshit and nothing will stand in my way."

Having said what she'd wanted to get across, she stood from her perch and left his side to sit back in her seat with a small sigh. Watching out her window, she waited for the sun, sleep not finding her despite the fatigue that seemed to drag within her bones.

***

In the night, Osono had opened all the curtains in her secluded room, so when the sun started to peek over the horizon, she could feel the distant ball of fire making it's ascent into the sky. It was like being awakened by a song as the light cascaded onto her face, the chill of the night rushing into the far corners to hide in the still clinging shadows. Dreams escaped her as she squinted with a half-smile and stretched at the just barely lightened sky, the rays of light filling her with a distant energy that was more a comforting presence than any actual physical boost.

The bed had been glorious, as they usually were in these high-class places, and she tossed the covers off before venturing to step lightly on the chilled carpeting in her bare feet. Still dressed in her tank top and black pants, she rushed to the bathroom and quickly got herself cleaned up before slipping her boots and heavy army jacket back on. Peeking into the other room before she entered, she saw that Ben was still here and on the couch where she'd left him. Remembering yesterday, she felt a bit of distaste fill her at the prospect of being with him again - he seemed so much nicer like this; couldn't she just lug him around in a state of constant sleep? - but she was eager to get moving.

The sun had barely made it above the horizon fully as she walked into the room to open the curtains in here and open the balcony door. Reaching into her pocket she dug out her cigarettes and lit one up, letting out a long, drawn out sigh of smoke through the open door. Letting the cigarette hang from her lips, she approached the couch and tapped him lightly, yet insistently on the cheek. "Hey...Hey you..." she said softly, trying to be non-obtrusive.

Then she quirked her lips and slapped him with the flat of her palm to leave a nice stinging sensation across the right side of his face. "Hey schizo! Time to hit the road! Get yer lazy ass up!"

[Tartra]

The night had taken its dear sweet time to pass. More than once, Alex had woken up, panicking over the lost feeling in his foot but remembering why he’d been okay with it when Xander let a blip of pain fall through to shut him up. It happened three times during the night, he figured, and all the while, that jabbing on his chest had gone on.

He was awake before he thought he was awake. His eyes were closed and he drifted in and out of a half-real dream, slowly warming to the feeling of daylight but too stuck in his fatigue to rise to it. If it hadn’t been drilled in to him over the years that moving around on whatever he was using as a bed was a bad idea, he would’ve rolled over. On his side, a hand could’ve flopped down, and the smack of it on the ground would’ve been enough to at least take a look at what was happening around him. But it was fine. He was tired. This was nice, laying here like he – “What the fuck, Xan-sono.”

‘Xansono’?

The anger flooded back in. He’d sat up and brought a hand to his face, curling his lip back and nearly baring his teeth.

“You couldn’t stop her from doing that?”

Stop her? Hell – she beat me to it.

Great. He had to put up with this shit from two people.

“Glad to see you’re up,” Alex snapped. “Sort of.” So much for being nice. This is how it was going to go? Fine! He was better at handling this garbage than being friendly, anyway. “Let’s try to – dammit – what the hell!” Again! Again he’d been hit in the face, this time by his own hand – which shouldn’t’ve surprised him in the least, but had somehow managed to.

Ha, ha – now you’re schizo and you have tourettes. And because that amazingly wasn’t enough, in the split instant Osono took to blink, Xander slapped him for the third time. Let’s move, patty-cake. Quit standing around.

He wasn’t even standing! He was still sitting on the couch, and by the way, everyone in this room was an asshole. And seriously? She was smoking again? That wasn’t what he wanted to wake up to! Hadn’t this week been horrible enough with one more thing to dig at him all day?

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed at the twitch in his left arm. Louder, to Osono, just as reluctant to talk to her as last night, he said plainly, “I’m going to the washroom. Stay here.”

He now regretted giving her the bed.

Oh – so now you want the bed. Okay.

It was bright in the room she’d come out of. Sunlight spilled out of the door, heating the carpet and making a soft path he was sure would’ve helped with his foot. He didn’t have the frame of mind to waste his time hanging around in the bathroom when he got to it. He’d seen stuff like it before, even if he absently admitted it was nice. The novelty had worn off. He’d been in there for only five minutes and every last one of them was spent wondering what the hell he was going to walk back into when he went out there. When he did go out and found everything more or less singe-free, he was even more annoyed. Her not burning things probably meant she’d been snooping, and while he could say she’d been ‘justified’ to dive through his bag to get his passport – one of four, actually – he frowned at it like everything else he’d seen her do.

On the couch was the pad of paper he’d left Xander to fiddle with. Alex realized the guy hadn’t been writing when he woke up, but he might’ve just stopped to enjoy the smack in Alex’s face and forgotten to go on with it. That very clearly turned out not to be the case. As he got back to where he’d been sleeping and found the paper lying there, a quick glance and study of the bend in every page proved he’d been writing until he’d run out of room.

“Russian Braille,” Alex muttered, rolling his eyes. He picked it up and leafed through it. They were very pretty dots. Good work, Xander. And he supposed there was no point in asking how he’d written so neatly with his eyes shut. “What does it say?”

It lists our next move, he replied. On there’s a bunch of addresses and shit. I think – I think those’re the locations of some Agency bases. Small ones. Offices, really.

“You want to go there because...?”

We need an Agent.

“And you expect to ring on the doorbell and ask them what you want?” If this was going to be another conversation, Alex better start coughing or something. He picked rasping very lowly and very quietly in his throat. The schizophrenic thing was a good excuse. Had Gwen come up with it? She’d made it much easier on him. “How many addresses are there?”

... Five.

“That sounded confident.”

I’ve never been here before. I’m going off of what I can vaguely remember from the old days.

“‘The old days’? Six years ago?”

Eight.

“I bet half these places don’t exist anymore,” Alex said. He leafed through the dots again, like he was trying to verify the information. It was stupid for several reasons. “We’re not going to get anything out of it.”

I know two important facts. Number one, we – meaning her and me because you sat in the back like a bitch as usual – killed a lot of Agents yesterday. They’ve got to be scurrying to get a hold of us. Maybe they were expecting it if it was just her, but throw me into the equation, throw in a definite survivor – That meant Rudy. – and you can bet your ass they’ve got another team out combing the place for us. It’s too much of a threat to let lie. Number two, those addresses, while very likely abandoned, are still on record as having been Agency-owned property. We knock out one? Coincidence. Two? They know something’s up. Three, and we’ve sent a very clear message. By the time that happens, they’ll know where we are, then we grab a good one and get a code or two from his skull.

“That’s assuming these addresses are right,” he grumbled.

Yeah, well... Best I can do. But we might get lucky and run into their forces without having to hunt them down.

It’d be quite the timesaver.

“These are on the way to Charlton, right? We’re not going out of our way?”

That first one is. The rest are relatively on the way. I think.

“And you’re sure this is what we have to do?”

We need an Agent. After that, the rest of it falls into place.

“About that,” he said. “What’s the rest say?”

Just stuff. Just sort of guessing at what we’d be up against.

Alex frowned and put the pad in his pocket, muttering, “We’re screwed if you needed every page to sum it up.”

They’re high estimates. I wanted to cover the worst-case scenario. Plus, I forgot – like – half the Braille contractions and those pages are tiny. There’s much less on there than you think.

So he said. What was Alex supposed to do, double-check? ...Wait a minute.

“How long did it take you to do...?”

I was done at around four-thirty.

And if it was seven or so now, that meant he’d had about two hours to do whatever he’d wanted... and he’d had a pen...

Alex turned around and made perfectly sure Osono couldn’t see. Then, almost terrified at what the latest ‘masterpiece’ would be, he lifted up the front of his shirt and –

“Wow.”

Yup!

“That... is... incredibly graphic.”

‘Graphic’? What? It’s adorable! I drew a farm.

“No – I get that it’s a farm,” Alex said. “It’s everything else. Like the people.”

I’ve got some sheep in there and some goats...

“In the middle of a writhing orgy. Thanks, Xander. Now I have another reason to not be allowed in public.”

I even put it upside down so you could see it properly. I was gonna do it backwards, but I thought an hour and a half of effort was enough. ... An hour and a half still meant he’d – And then I spent the rest of the night drawing a penis on your neck. Sorry, but not really. I think we should frame it.

And as Alex was marched to march to the bathroom a second time, firmly smacking his arm over his neck – he knew he’d felt something, he knew he hadn’t woken up at night for the fun of it – and ripping a washcloth from the mound of towels hanging on the wall, he exploded in a seething, “We’re supposed to be getting Gwen! We don’t have time for this, you moron!”

Awww, you’ll miss it when it’s gone. Jesus. Alex could’ve almost called Xander ‘nice’ for telling him about the neck ink, because if he’d walked outside with that still on his skin... Lighten up. Gwen’s going to be fine. The way I see it, she has three days before anything happens. Maybe two. We’ve got plenty of time.

“Yeah? This coming from the dick who whined for an hour about spending in a hotel?”

I worked it out, Xander said, in a voice that would’ve been soothing if Alex wasn’t washing a penis off his neck. I’ve got a solid theory in place that keeps her safe for a while.

“What theory?”

It’s got everything to do with Peter. Half the humour in his words died at the mention of that name. Xander paused for a moment, as if he needed a break after saying it, then pushed on a decided, He’s back. Those bee-guards were proof.

“Not a lot of proof,” Alex pointed out.

Exactly the right amount. He’s back. He’s alive. I don’t know how, but he is. Another break. Something like a pissed off huff. And the way I see it, he’s got enough reason to want you, Gwen and Osono alive for another day.

Twenty different thoughts flitted through his mind, all of them more plausible than the last. Alex stopped scrubbing long to ask, “What reason?”

Don’t worry about it now. Let’s stay focused on the job and leave Peter and his fucked up projects for another time.

‘Fucked up’ was definitely the proper term. Peter was sick. Something had been very slightly off about him even in the overwhelming charm he’d thrown out years ago. The fast taste of what it’d been when they’d tapped into it had been what Alex needed to be proud of Xander for killing him. Having him back... It felt like something was hanging over their heads, not quite ready to leave the shadows and swing at them, but certainly close enough to breathe down their necks.

“Two days? You’re sure?”

Two days, I’m positive. Three days, I’m fairly sure. If we go now, we should make it to Charlton by evening. If I drive, I mean.

“Or we take a bus,” he said. “After her, there’s not much worse we can run into, and I don’t think it’s smart to take the Corvette. The owner could’ve reported it by now.”

Fine, fine. A stupid bus. That’ll mean late evening. Then he added, She’ll be fine until then. It’s not like Peter would let anything happen to her now.

There was the question of how Peter would make sure of that floating in the room. Alex ignored it. He didn’t want Xander’s opinion. Just this once, he’d stick to being ignorant and hang on to the hope that that traitor called the shots from behind some desk rather than slink onto the front lines.

“No more pens,” he muttered, before tossing the inky-cloth in the sink and heading outside. He hobbled to his bag and took out his deodorant. That’d have to work in place of a new shirt for now, because he’d prefer to use the time spent changing on moving to that bus.

“Morning, Sparky,” Xander popped in over his shoulder. “Sleep well? ‘Cause that bed looked awesome. By the way, we’re gonna hit up Starbucks, then blow some shit to the moon. You know. Their buildings. Sound fun?”

If he was getting giddy about destroying something, Alex could only imagine how happy Osono would be. She struck as the type of person who’d drool over an exploding office. One more point against her, he mentally noted.

“We’ll be in Charlton by night, apparently,” Alex said, wrestling back control. “We have to move fast, though. Come on.”

* * *

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

It didn’t matter how close she was. He knew what she was trying to do. Jason stubbornly refused to move his leg when her foot rubbed against it. He was sick of her game and he was backing out. To commemorate that decision, he took another swig from his bottle.

He tried not to listen to what she was saying. It wasn’t anything important – or at least nothing directly related to his work on the case – and he knew giving in would grant her another edge over him. But she was sitting so close... Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

He didn’t. He went to sleep. He didn’t have much of a choice, since Benoit wasn’t talking and the A-1 seemed to be mulling something over. It wasn’t until he got sunlight in his eye that everyone was let in on what that was. It looked like his lead had had an effect on someone after all.

“That was beautiful,” Eric said through a grand, weepy smile across his face. “What you said? Stephanie? That was gorgeous. You’re really something. You’ve got this... this passion I can’t wrap my head around. It really puts a point on how far I’ve fallen. I used to get excited, too! Now the only thing I’ve got left is the highest rank in the Agency, a bitchin’ sweet army of underlings, at-will access to every piece of tech this group’s got to offer, and all the corpses I could ever need. But I don’t have love, man! Y’know? Love.”

“You can manage,” Benoit grunted.

He seemed to have woken up when Eric broke the silence, and if the sharp irritation on his face was any indication, the man’s voice was making a certain someone’s hangover jump from perfectly ignorable to steadily ill.

“That’s what they say,” Eric said. “But you’ve gotta wonder if there’s anything more to life than ‘managing’. What would I have been like if I’d done something else?”

“If you had picked a profession that didn’t involve raping the sanctity of death? Don’t be foolish, Eric,” Frenchie said. “This is what you were meant to do.”

“I like to think I’d be a doctor. I’m all about helping people.” Benoit didn’t bother pretending he had an answer to that. Jason laughed a little – in his bottle, though. “Anyway, Stephanie, you’re an inspiration. I truly hope you get exactly what you’re aiming for, so you can show the world and the Agency what a successful transfer is supposed to be. I’d like to see that. I’d also like to have a one on one chat with your friend. He’s the guy? Hang on a sec.” Eric’s phone was open again. “Lyddie! Hey – run the name ‘Rudy’, would ya? He’s some backwater A-3 or A-4 on the fire girl case – sweet Ozzie. Let him know we need to chat. Like – now. And that his rank drops a level every minute I’m stuck waiting. And that three minutes means he dies.” Eric turned to them and silently mouthed, “I’m kidding – he dies anyway.” Then he grinned and swept his hand in front of his neck as if he was putting an end to any urges to ‘tell’. “Oh! And be sure to say ‘good morning’.”

This probably wasn’t what Jason’s lead had meant by not having to worry about him anymore.

He looked over at her.

No, no, he stopped looking. He stopped. He went back to not thinking about it. That was what she wanted. Another puzzle piece had filled in while he’d slept: she tried to let him think she was opening up to him, let see something he could call vulnerable, spark a need to give back and open up in nearly the same way, except it’d be different because she wanted him to be honest. No. Hell no. He had his friend, Mr. Wine, and if they were at war in his gut and his head right now, he was satisfied with the relationship. Doubly satisfied, actually. If Quin died, maybe he could take his place. Jason couldn’t be any worse at it, that was for sure. The thought made him laugh.

Ow. His head. He rubbed his temples and winced. This was why it wasn’t a smart idea to follow the cues of a man who’d gulped down three bottles without so much as a hiccup. Jason was not cut out for drinking this. He’d manage. He’d survived his suit’s withdrawal. It was just a pain to have to go through it again, especially coupling it with the fact that his withdrawal had sunk in once he’d signed that form.

“How much longer until Charlton?”

“Twenty minutes,” Benoit said, looking at his watch. “We had to stop at another airport because Eric wanted ice cream.”

“That’s right,” Eric chirped. “I got some ice cream while you guys were sleeping. I would’ve offered you some but – uh... well, Jason didn’t wake up and I didn’t want to bother our insightful Miss March. And Benoit hates joy, so he wasn’t allowed any.”

... Ice cream. Ah, the great perks of the A-1 rank.

Did anyone mention that stopping for ice cream could’ve been a bad idea if Alexander made it to the Charlton before they did? What was he saying – of course not. If Jason had been asleep, the voice of reason had gone with him. At least they were ready to land shortly. They could make up the time.

Landing was not going to be fun in his condition.

[Guest]

Naturally, considering the current prickly status of their relationship, Osono expected Ben to be somewhat upset from being woken up in the particular way she'd chosen to do so. And she was prepared with a proud smirk on her face and a laugh as he sputtered angrily and gave her the most offended look she ever did see. What she did not expect, however, was for the dude to freaking smack himself in the face, twice. And despite how utterly bizarre it was to see the surprised/annoyed expression doubled each time it happened, she couldn't help the snickers that erupted from her chest in response. God, Ben was such a freak! But at least he was entertaining as hell.

The night had erased most of the bad feelings and tension that had built between them, but all of it had returned when she'd entered this room again. Watching him kick his own ass and get upset about it was just the thing she needed to erase that tension again and it worked wonders. She still hated him, but she was no longer loathe to be around him. What a great way to start the day!

Then he was hurrying off to the bathroom and she stayed put as instructed. But not without finding something with which to entertain herself while he was gone. The first thing she looked at was a hotel notepad he left behind on the couch, but she quickly lost interest in it when she saw nothing but dots. Nice doodle, freaking psycho, she thought to herself as she tossed it back where she'd found it.

She shook her head at her own thoughts, when something caught her eye. The other bag he'd been carrying, shoved against the foot of the couch discreetly. Checking to see if he was coming back yet, she crouched down next to it and started to gingerly go through it. There were a few women's clothes inside, but also what appeared to be Gwen's purse and she immediately picked it up and unzipped it.

Other than a conservative amount of junk she might need when going out, there wasn't much by way of personal effects. There was a wallet that had what she'd expect to see - no cash money, but a few membership cards for a clothing store or two and a bookstore, and identification cards which told her Gwen's last name - and a key ring with 4 different keys on it, and a small golden key chain of the word "LOVE" as decoration. Also amidst everything else, small things that gave her a little more insight into who Gwen was, there was a crumpled piece of paper as well.

She only had time to pick it up before she could hear Alex's footsteps shuffling in his odd limp back towards the room. Roughly, she shoved the purse back in the bag and stood while stuffing her hand into her pocket and attempting to stand where she'd been when he'd left. Her cigarette had been left unattended, stuck between her lips this whole time and a half an inch of ash had collected on the end of it. Carelessly, she flicked it onto the carpet and gave Ben an innocent look when he re-entered the room.

He came back over to the couch and started to inspect the little notepad he'd left in his spot and she started to relax again when he didn't seem to notice that she'd left Gwen's bag open. Even when he started to hum and murmur to himself again, she found she was starting to get used to it and waited for him to finish doing whatever - he appeared to be going back over his notes or something. As she watched him however, her eyes zeroed in on the odd little drawing on his neck and she was smirking quietly to herself again as smoke drifted from between her lips. She didn't understand his mental illness, but she was growing more and more fond of it by the minute - whatever made him do the shit that he kept doing to himself, it was keeping her in light spirits to say the least.

For the time being, she waited patiently and had her smoke, letting the nicotine fill her with it's bitter warmth, heating her lungs with every inhalation, but she let out a small sigh and stamped her foot in irritation as he once again left the room. Didn't he say they were leaving early or something?

"Why don't we ring up the room service and charge a few pay-per-view's, while we're at it?"

She was trying really hard not to be paranoid about him seemingly dragging his feet and she trying to be understanding, but there was an urgency in her bones that she could not explain. Mostly, she figured it had to do with a general ignorance of what they were even dealing with. All these years, Ozzie had only ever really dealt with these people on the outside and in public situations - usually in the form of a confrontation ending with several dead and her free as a bird. But...what happened when they caught someone? What were they doing to Gwen? Ben hadn't really explained what exactly the goals there Agent folks had except that they were after people with powers.

By the time he came back into the room, she'd finished her cigarette and had Gwen's bag slung over her shoulder. Ben could carry his own shit - she couldn't believe he'd made her do it last night! She would have been angrier at the time and tossed it back in his face if she hadn't suspected him of being a traitor. She didn't really know why, but holding Gwen's stuff made her feel better. These were things that were important to Gwen, stuff that even while running for her life, she'd hung onto. She would want them back when they found her and Ozzie was going to make sure she got it.

At the almost friendly tone Ben addressed her with, Ozzie quirked an eyebrow at him, but her eyes widened when he mentioned blowing stuff up. "Hell yeah!" she said with a sudden smile, her hand of it's own accord moving to make the sign of the horns as she grew excited at the prospect. "That's what I'm talkin' about! And Starbucks - it figures you'd have a few redeeming qualities, I suppose, but I wouldn't take you for one with good taste."

She was happy that he finally seemed ready to leave, but his mention of blowing things up made her pause. He meant her, didn't he? It wasn't something she could just do with a snap of her fingers and she didn't want to get there and be expected to perform the act and possibly screw things up because she couldn't. It was no longer hard admitting what her weaknesses, because she did trust him, but it wasn't something she normally talked about.

So, she waited until they'd proceeded to the elevator before she decided to speak up, playing idly with the strap of Gwen's bag. "One thing, before we go running into this. I...can't really blow things up. I mean I can, but the right stuff has to be present - I'm just a spark." She wasn't going to apologize for misleading him last night - at the time, she'd been fully entitled to bluff since he had been "the enemy", and besides, she thought it was kind of funny now.

She glanced at him as she stood beside him in the small space, and fiddled with the bag strap some more, her raspy voice slightly mumbled and forced when it came. "Sometimes...I'm attracted to chemicals and materials that are flammable and I can feel it when something is fire-resistant - like the suits worn by the guys who always come after me. Like...I love silk but I hate nylon and wool... I can smell things like lacquer, turpentine and phosphorous a mile away - not really a mile, but I kinda know when they're around... I can blow things up and have done so before - like, most recently, a gas station a few cities south of here - but I can't do it unless there's the right combustibles present. Mostly...I can just make and control fire..."

Ozzie shrugged. It was a bit uncomfortable having to explain it aloud to someone. She'd never told Rudy any of this and certainly none of the other random strangers she'd picked up along the way of running from place to place and the rest of the time...she was always alone. It was like telling him her bra size or something weird like that.

They were a few floors away from the ground level and she found herself once again wondering about whether or not Gwen was safe and when she spoke up again, her tone had become somber. "Are they going to hurt her? I mean...what do they do once they've caught someone...? What do they really want with people like her and I?" Her hand tightly grasped the strap of the bag on her shoulder, almost clinging to it as she waited for him to respond.

***

She hadn't slept for the whole rest of the plane ride. Not a wink. Mostly, she'd spent her time thinking about Gwen and trying to imagine what it would be like to finally get her hands on her - what would she say to her target after this long-distance and emotional dance they'd both endured? She almost wanted to congratulate her on keeping ahead for this long and making a problem where there hadn't previously been one, but that felt a little misplaced with Alexander's involvement.

Stephanie just knew she was going to cry when it finally happened, when she finally strapped her down. She would try her best to remain professional, but there was so much invested in this case, she knew she was going to get emotional about their reunion. Hopefully, things would be at a point where everyone would understand and forgive her for her sentimentality.

She also spent a bit of time thinking about Jason, even watched him sleep for a little while, secretly adoring the way he held his wine bottle loose in one hand and almost let it tip over and over, his wrist jerking it upright subconsciously when he felt the weight of it pulling down. But without him conscious, it was like a light had gone out and the feelings she'd been grappling with for most of the plane ride seemed to subside with his "absence".

When Eric stopped at the airport, as soon as she ascertained that they weren't in Charlton, she'd settled back in her seat and continued to quietly brood. Normally, she would have gotten mad and a bit impatient, maybe even put up a fuss about the stop, but it was tempered by the fact that Rudy would most likely not be in Charlton yet, and also she'd have to wait even more for the trip to Elmira. So, even though she abhorred doing so, since there wasn't a point in getting upset about it, she let it slide by without comment or protest.

Finally, when everyone was waking up in the cabin, Stephanie felt herself get wired again by the resurgence of consciousness that took over the atmosphere. But what really did it was Eric's sudden praise for her "private" talk with Jason. All at once, she felt herself bolstered anew by the A-1's attention. Especially when he mentioned "love". She supposed in a way that the way she felt about Gwen and the case itself could be classified as love, but in her mind, she'd assumed she was no longer capable of the emotion. All it took was to see a situation from someone else's perspective.

"I won't let the Agency down," she said duly before he was once again opening up his phone and talking away. Again a feeling of well-being and confidence filled her to hear what he said and she almost smiled a little bit to hear that Eric was so invested in Rudy's fate. Despite what she'd told Jason, a part of her had been worried about what the little twerp was planning - whatever it was, likely wouldn't turn out the way he wanted or even in a way that would benefit him, but it could still screw things up for her. She didn't have a lot of things to hide and she wasn't scared of her past coming to light, but mostly, she was worried that Rudy would do something stupid like bargain with her target's life in exchange for a free pass. The fact that Eric was stepping forward to personally deal with the guy, made her feel protected in a way.

An odd sound made her turn towards Jason before she realized it was the sound of him laughing - it was low and restrained but still it caught her attention and she stared openly for several long minutes waiting to see if he'd do it again. It had been a brief, yet beautiful sound and she was almost remorseful that she hadn't seen the smile that had probably gone along with it before it had disappeared from his face. Why did he have to torment her so?

Forget it. Focus. Gwen, remember Gwen. Just a little while longer. She was busy saying such over and over in her head when suddenly nausea hit her like someone grabbing her guts and wrenching them violently within her body. Quickly, without a word, she hurried to the restroom and shut the door behind her, barely making it to double over the appropriate receptacle before emptying the contents of her stomach. There wasn't much inside her except the short-bread cookies and the wine, and as the illness faded, she immediately blamed the alcohol for causing the reaction.

Standing at the sink and rinsing out her mouth, she tried not to look at the mirror which still buckled in the upper right hand corner from when Jason had been thrown against it. It was fine. She was fine. Splashing water over her face and dabbing it dry with a paper towel, she eventually let her eyes trail up to her reflection and surmised that she definitely looked worse than before. But she knew everything that was the cause - the obvious dark circles under eyes were a result of not sleeping, as was the slightly wearied look to her cheeks, and the new paleness was because she'd just violently lost her snack from a few hours ago. Even having an explanation for everything didn't make her feel better about the way she looked.

It was alright. She'd find the time to take a shower in Charlton and she'd just stay away from drinking from now on - no matter what Benoit or anybody else put in her hand. Having regained her composure and cleaned up, she proceeded back out and walked up to the galley where she knew the stewardess was hiding. Quietly, she demanded gum of some kind, and when she was handed a packet, she once again took her seat. She stoically chewed a few pieces of her newly acquired cinnamon flavored gum, the spicy sweetness burning her tongue and erasing the awful taste of bile.

***

On the road again and behind the wheel, Rudy whistled lightly to himself the dungeon songs from Super Mario World and tapped out the bass beat on the steering wheel with his hands. A new red and swelling bruise adorned his left cheek and after a few moments, he pulled out a small stopper made of tissue from his left nostril, sniffling experimentally to make sure the bleeding had stopped before tossing it away.

Gwen laid on her stomach in the backseat, practically hog-tied with her restraints and with a few new bruises and blood stains of her own. Duct tape was pulled over her mouth, almost wrapped all the way around to the back of her neck, and she rested her sore cheek against the leather seats, trying not to think about where they were going.

"That was completely unfair getting that biker involved," Rudy said in a disappointed tone of voice, sitting up in his seat to look at her in the rearview mirror. "Not that I was scared of him or anything. Also, I hope you realize that you totally got those guys killed trying to get them to help you. Not my fault. I explained all this to you last night - I have no problem with killing innocent people. If you put them in my way, you KNOW without a doubt now what will happen."

The scowl that had appeared on her face when he'd started speaking again, faded somewhat as she remembered what had happened at the hotel before they'd left. She'd tried to escape again. Rudy had drugged her while he'd slept for a few hours, but had allowed her to wake up this morning when the breakfast he'd ordered had arrived. Seeming to grow soft, he'd fed her a few things that he had been willing to share and even helped her drink orange juice when she got thirsty. And all the while, she'd frantically tried to think of a way to escape.

The idea hadn't come to her until he was busy lugging her forcibly down to the car, waiting until there was no one around before moving her through the lobby - which was more a section of hallways all converging at the front desk. In the parking garage, Gwen had been panicking trying to reach out to anyone who might help and lucky for her, there had been some rough looking guys who'd noticed Rudy toting her around like a sack of potatoes. At first, it seemed like none of them knew what to do until she called out to them with her special voice and spurred them into action. A struggle had resulted, and it seemed at first like the burly men had the upper hand, but it ended quickly with Rudy standing alone and holding the electric gun he was fond of using.

Even as disoriented as he was, they were still alone at that point so Rudy took a moment to "reprimand" her before taping her mouth shut and driving off. She'd lost her "speaking privileges" he'd said, as if he'd allowed her to speak at all before. Still, she felt incredibly guilty about getting those people killed. But she didn't know what else to do and desperation had taken over. Every moment she had to think about it, she remembered the visions in Nathan's head and she felt that deep, all-consuming hunger that had been inside Stephanie. She didn't want to die and she knew she was going to if she didn't do something.

"And after I gave you muffins," he said with a shake of his head and slapping the steering wheel.

Gwen was slumping into the leather once more not bothering to even reach out when she felt the phone in his pocket ring a few seconds before she heard the tone.

"Y'ello?" he said in his normal, cheerful, dorky tone as he opened the cell and put it up to his ear. "Oh? ...I bet he does. Yeah, yeah." Even without hearing the other side of the conversation, Gwen knew he'd hung up on the other person before they'd finished speaking. Keeping an eye on the road, Rudy dialed a number and put it up to his ear again and this time Gwen roused herself enough to listen in.

As soon as someone picked up, Rudy immediately started speaking, his voice running quick without losing his coherence and keeping his laid-back cool demeanor. "Hey, this is Quin. Now, I should have contacted you sooner than this about the recent turn of events, and it's probably not helping my case any, but believe me that I'm serious when I say, I've been a bit preoccupied lately. I know, I know, I've probably got an axe over my head right now, but just hear me out.

"It was an accident. I was in pursuit of my target and everything was fine - I was in the process of springing a trap on her, which under normal circumstances should have worked with how many men my partner tossed my way. But like she tends to do, Ozzie attached herself to some people and I had no freaking clue who they were. One minute, we were having dinner with this loser and his fat girlfriend and the next, they both start whipping out powers, like, 'Holy shit!'

"Have you read issue #234 of Teen Titans? When Terra becomes a part of the team and everything's cool until they find out she's working for Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke and it's like 'Oh, my God! No way!'? Anyways, it was kinda like that. And the dude freaking pulled a 'Batman' on me while I was trying to take a pee. I'm fairly discomfited about the homosexual overtones of the experience and I may or may not need counseling.

"And now I've been babysitting Bettsy, the empathic whale, and she tries to kill me every chance she gets - you'd think she doesn't want to be Agency property or something. It's weird. My assistant is fish food, I've got a freaking fractured skull, and I can't find my Magic cards anywhere - I was so sure they were in the glove box, but Hoskins probably moved them, the cheeky bastard, God rest his soul..."

Finally, Rudy took a breath to laugh and shrugged helplessly before saying in humored tones, "I gotta tell you, Sir. It's been a shitty fucking week."

Despite the defensive content of his conversation, Rudy was the perfect picture of calm, almost confident to the point of arrogance. Gwen still couldn't read any of his thoughts but when she reached through the phone to read who he was talking to, her body stiffened in alarm. Whoever was on the other line had as much of a mental "signature" as Vince Hoskins did this morning and his mind was a hole so much deeper than Stephanie had ever been able to conjure up.

[Tartra]

Eric’s phone rang shortly after Jason’s lead had been sick. He’d almost moved as if to prove he was around to help – force of habit from the non-special cases he’d successfully completed – but the weight in his stomach kept him in his place. That, and he had to get helping her out of his mind. They were against each other. Still, he felt he should pretend to make an effort, if not out of professional courtesy, then just to keep her from realizing her stunts weren’t going to go work. The last thing he wanted was for her to change strategies. She might get lucky with the next one.

“Are you –”

“Be quiet.”

Jason’s mouth twitched at Frenchie’s intrusion. He was going ask what the problem was until he gleaned the reason. Benoit was looking at Eric, who hadn’t answered the call yet, and reclined as far as he was, he made it obvious there was nothing holding him back. The phone was neatly caught between his thumb and his index, trapped there, staring at its owner with a blank... fright, if it didn’t sound crazy to say. It was worried, unsure why the flashing screen wasn’t getting the alert across. It lit up faster, rang louder, doing everything in its small power to reach the man and growing panicked by the threat of failure. Eric still didn’t answer. If the phone was desperate, he was enjoying it, quietly holding a steady gaze Jason knew came with the same half-haunted smile he’d given when he’d first pulled rank to get Jean’s body. Until then, despite everything he’d seen, he wouldn’t have believed the A-1 when he explained he was dead. Now it was impossible to think otherwise, even if he forgot. The phone was shaking under the steel of it.

Inhale. It was soft and fluttery.

No, Jason wasn’t crazy. That phone was relieved to be put out of its misery. Now the only thing it had to do was stand back and work from the side. Whoever was on the other end, though, shouldn’t plan on anything as fun and inviting as Eric’s innocent “Helloooo?” outright lied. Benoit didn’t have to warn anyone – no one was talking. He could barely come to terms with knowing he didn’t have to hold his breath.

Or maybe he did.

Eric was either listening to someone who couldn’t shut the hell up or was holding off his response like he’d done to his toy. It came to the same end for the people in the plane: a stark discomfort settled over them. Whether it was for their personal safety or a subconscious guess at what that poor fool would soon run into – whatever it was drew ice through his spine – didn’t really matter. No one wanted to ask questions because no one wanted to know, but a sick curiosity pinned them down, or else they might’ve sought safety by leaving the man to talk to his friend alone.

Quin. Had to be. There was no one else it could’ve been. Somehow, it made the yawning peril much more real.

“Rudy,” Eric crooned, drawing out the name like a knife was slowly carving it. The morbid care gone into the note felt borderline psychotic, and he’d spoken so gently, like a man who thought too lowly of whoever he’d graced with conversation to bother being louder. Jason’s ears strained to hear what was said, and he was closer than anyone. “My name is Eric Patten. I’m level A-1 of the Agency to which you’ve confusingly been employed and I’m the man who owned the Agents you appear to have let die. I’m telling you this so you understand who it is you’ve been talking at. I’m your superior, Mr. Quin – your better, your greater, and your boss. Should I ever hear another word from you that would make a tear fall from my mother’s eye, I won’t wait for you to meet us at Charlton. I’ll find you that very moment, and after I take your jaw and remove it from your head, I will proceed to impale your body on the nearest stick my hands can reach.

Now, I’m not so cruel as to think you aren’t just jumpy. That’s all that was, right?” His voice still found room to hush, spiking up the dare to say he was wrong and letting the short lull after his question wave at a trap no one would possibly be stupid enough to walk into. “So. We’re going to try this again. I’m going to say ‘hello’ and you’re going to reply, ‘Hello, Mr. Patten’, and you’re going to do it in the voice of someone speaking to the gentleman who will otherwise come to kill you at his earliest convenience. It should be... I don’t know, something like humility. Modesty. Maybe slow and sleepy, but not so much that I drop off listening to you beg for me to spare you. That’s my favourite part.”

A light and a chime went on overhead. The chime saw its mistake immediately and dove back into the silence it’d destroyed, but the light, proud and perky, stayed put.

“We’re landing,” Benoit said. “Five minutes.”

He didn’t instantly die. Benoit had permission to talk when it was necessary. He even got a grin from Eric after it – a friendly one, the kind he’d been dishing out since he’d joined up. There was a flicker of hope that this showdown was over, but it smothered and drowned as the A-1 returned to his fairly one-sided conversation.

“We’re landing,” Eric told Quin. “I suggest you make it snappy.” He cleared his throat. A flood of warmth burst from nowhere and sent him into smiles and rainbows again. “Hello? Is this little Rudy Quin? How are ya, slugger? I heard you had some fun with Alexander – and caught Gwen! Nice! Now how about a recap on what the fuck happened down there?” And to the rest of them, Eric whispered, “I get to swear because I’m in charge. I love it. It’s great.” Then back to Quin. “Rudyyyy? Don’t hear ya talkin’ yet, pal.”

Frenchie had started relaxing. Jason took it as a sign to let go of the armrests.

* * *

“If you’re scared,” Alex said, “maybe you shouldn’t come. The one time you have something to do, you have to screw it up with ‘power limits’.”

She had no excuse. Gwen had her powers for two – three – days? She was allowed to have as many roadblocks as she wanted. Osono? She blew up a gas station and she couldn’t manage an office? And how many people had been in that place when she’d done it? What for? Someone was chasing her? Alright, he could see the reasoning in that. It still meant she’d destroyed probably a block and vaporized a family’s life. He knew a few people who’d worked at gas stations. It wasn’t always a one-of-a-hundred franchise. A lot of them were owned by people who scraped together the funds they’d oh God, just spare me. I’m so sick of you two squabbling.

“Just come on,” Alex told her, hauling his bag onto his shoulder and heading for the door. He thought about holding it open for her since it was one of those heavy types that swung shut the minute it was let go, but if she wasn’t fast enough to manage that waaaaaaah – mean ol’ Osono hit me in the face! How could she be so mean to me, after everything I’ve done for her?

Too late. He was in the hall. She was either behind him or – oh, she was.

“We’ll have to work around it,” Alex said, marching to the elevator. “If we’re lucky, we’ll just stumble on someone who has what we need, but if we’re not, we’ll...”

“Get some dynamite.”

“No – we won’t get dynamite, but –”

“Yes to dynamite.”

Alex pursed his lips for the moment he could manage it before it pulled into a wince. A few more of those, and his face would be permanently stuck that way.

It’d be an improvement, if you asked me.

“I didn’t.”

That’s not very nice.

“I’m not in a mood to be nice right now,” he spat. “Gwen is gone, we have to get to Charlton, we’re trying to hunt down buildings with addresses you aren’t even sure are right, my foot’s falling off and this is all your fault!” Osono’s and Xander’s. If he’d just stayed out of his brain to begin with, none of this would’ve happened.

Oh good sir, you wound me with your words. Try to remember the only reason I’m not wounding you with pain is ‘cause I might not have the energy to get your foot back after.

“If you’d shut up, maybe you could save a bit of strength.”

Also try to remember that I’m doing this as a favour for you. I’m not the pussy who can’t handle a bruise.

“You owe me this ‘favour’ because you’re the one who put that bruise there,” Alex snapped. “And my hand. And my face.”

You’re so grumpy today, was his answer. Like – more than usual.

“I’m thrilled you took your head out of your ass long enough to clue in,” he said. “This is serious. You know how much is at stake.”

One, you’re almost shouting, so stop that. Two, she doesn’t know. How about filling her in?

Why? What for? What about that ‘trust level’ thing? If Xander wasn’t convinced she wasn’t an Agent, why fill her in on shit she probably already knew? He wasn’t playing that game.

“The Agents want to put one of their people into your brain so they can control your powers.” There. Was that so hard? “Also, that couch wasn’t comfy. Bad night means bad attitude.” Again.

“Don’t expect me to apologize.”

‘Course not. That’d be unrealistic. You just keep sulking and expecting things to magically get better ‘cause you’re sad. Geez – you almost have me wanting to break my rule and just tell her who I am. It sucks having her think I’m part of you.

What a tragically tragic tragedy.

“That’ll change soon.”

Not fast enough.

He got on the elevator with a furious storm brewing around him. He was surprised Xander hadn’t let go of his foot yet, especially with the endless opportunities he’d had that he’d’ve normally jumped at. It bothered him, even as he tried to vent by stabbing his thumb through the ground floor button. It didn’t work and now his thumb hurt, but at least it got some sense into him. He probably should explain what was going on. How much was another question. He didn’t know how far her sudden loyalty to Gwen was going to hold out in face of what the Agents did. She’d be walking into the lions’ den wearing a suit of meat and banging a drum. Still, better to find out now than when he had to depend on her.

“The people you keep calling ‘them’ are from an Agency. I know... bits and pieces about what the real organization is. They’ve got their fingers in a lot a different stuff – energy and pharmaceuticals, mostly, with some tech stuff they’re all about field testing. As for what they want and what they plan to do to you, they seem to think you and people like you have no control over your abilities. They you’re dangerous. Can’t imagine why, what with your sparkling record, but it got them to develop a way to put their people, trained Agents, into whoever’s body they can find. After that... I don’t know. I guess they live out their lives as us – as you – or just keep working to bring everyone else down.”

The elevator had hit the lobby. The doors swept open. Alex walked outside, torn between waiting for her to keep explaining and going out to check on the car. He wouldn’t mind taking it, but without a key, it was too much of a hassle to turn it on every few minutes. But a bus... Could they rent a car?

“Sir? Miss? Are you checking out?” A small-nosed blonde woman looked at them from the counter. She smiled politely with dimples in her cheeks. “I can help you here.”

Rent a car. It’d be less illegal and more convenient.

“I need a place to rent a car,” he said. “Something that’ll get me around and doesn’t use up too much gas.”

“We offer many cars suitable for a variety of needs,” the woman said, abnormally happy so early in the morning. “What do you plan on getting done today?”

“... Driving. Uh... a lot.”

“Ooookay.” She ducked under her counter and pulled out a binder of laminated pages. On them were lists of car models they had available. Where were they keeping these? The moon? “We have a range of comfortable choices.” She was flipping through the pages. “In terms of ‘affordable’, we have –” Alex’s finger landed on a name. “That’s an Audi, sir. The R8 is $1100 a day.”

Want it. Get it. Let’s bounce. And then his hand produced a credit card. I’m gonna drive the shit out of this thing.

“I’d rather you didn’t...”

“Sorry, sir?”

“Not you,” Alex said. “Just... Fine. Yeah. The Audi.” He pushed the card towards her. Three minutes ticked by, and then it – along with a pair of keys – were pushed back. “Thanks.”

“No problem, sir. Will that be all? Will you still be checking out?”

“Yeah. Just... Yeah.” His head hurt. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep. It was better than nothing, he supposed, but he might have to give inn to Xander’s crazy ideas and gave nothing but coffee for the day. He sighed at the notion, then turned to Osono. “I don’t know how much you want to know. I don’t know how much I should tell you. If you have a question... ask, I guess, but don’t get mad at me if it’s not something you want to hear.”

Audi Audi Audi Audi Audi Audi – we are gonna look so neat in front of Starbucks!

[Guest]

Rudy didn't get easily rattled. It just wasn't something that came naturally to him and he had a wide, emotional buffer zone that kept him from even acknowledging such when it did happen. But as the man on the other line finally began to speak, Quin lost the cool grace that he normally had and felt himself swallow thickly as his breakfast threatened to make the trip back up his throat.

The original plan for this phone call was to exude confidence and familiarity and hope that the unexpected conduct would earn him some points with whoever he'd upset - he hadn't even been paying attention really when everybody kept saying he'd fucked up, so he'd kinda walked into a dark room with his eyes closed as far as knowing who he was talking to. He assumed whoever was in charge would understand the mistake and appreciate his honesty and that they'd be laughing together about it after a few minutes. Well, he was definitely paying attention now and scrambling frantically to come up with "plan B". And nobody was laughing.

A-1! A fucking A-1! Jesus! And oh, fucking God! Had he used a TT reference to describe the unexpected incident at the restaurant?? He was somewhat surprised that he hadn't been killed through the phone yet and prayed it was by the grace of whatever omnipotent being had his back enough to allow him a second chance to correct himself and not an elaborate ruse to draw out his torment.

His maddening pursuit of figuring out what to say next was abruptly halted as he felt an unfamiliar pressure within his skull, like a soft tugging on his brain. It was like someone watching and leering at him, making him paranoid except inside his head and immediately he stamped on the brakes, Gwen's body lunging forward and rolling off the seats to the floor in the back. As she landed with a hollow "umf!", whatever had been in his head instantly disappeared and he glared at her in the rearview mirror as he continued driving, reasserting the mental control he knew had kept her out until a second ago.

The phone was still up to his ear and he was startled as Eric prodded him for a response. "My bad--I mean..." he started hoarsely, pausing and shaking his head to clear it and taking a deep breath before continuing in a slower and much more wary tone, walking on eggshells as he frantically tried to think of a way to turn these events to his benefit. Or at least lead things to a conclusion that didn't end with him dead.

"Hello, Mr. Patten," he started again, almost saying the words as if he were asking a question - the questioning tone itself was more in the vein of searching for approval than anything else; was that right? Did he say it the way he was suppose to? - and the rest of the words that followed were hinted at with the same stops and starts as if waiting for some signal from Eric to show he liked what he was hearing before Rudy would move on to the next thing.

He figured it was safest to stay away from anything that hinted at familiarity - despite the tone of the superior Agent's questions - and he also decided to be as thorough as possible but keep it brief. "I caught up with my target in Elmira after following a trail of leads, where she was found boarding a bus to leave the city. By the time I came up to her, however, she was already with Gwen and Alexander, although at the time, I was not aware of who they were and they did not know I was an Agent - they used different names and there was no reason for me to believe that they possessed powers or were involved with the Agency in any way...

"Osono stayed with them, even when they got off the bus at Terreston, and seemed to make enough of a connection with them to accept an invitation to dinner. I tagged along of course, still undercover, but I lost contact with my partner almost as soon as we got off the bus. Luckily, I was able to send a signal to her when we reached the restaurant - a fancy French place that Alexander selected, called La Madeliene. Noel appropriated a small team of your men, without my prior knowledge, in hopes that the added levels of expertise would bolster the chances of success...

"It is not usual for Osono to make friends and she seemed to be warming up to both targets. I was worried that they might make trouble, so I sought to control the problem before it began and confronted Alexander in private with the plan to eliminate him. Right around that time, Noel's team of Agents arrived and began to engage Osono and Gwen back at the table. Also, not being prepared for it and not even realizing who Alexander was at the time - I've since been informed as much as I can be by Noel's personal knowledge of Agency lore - so I'm sorry to say I was overpowered and left for dead...

"Alexander joined the fray and along with Ozzie--I mean, Osono, they whittled down the numbers fairly quickly. There was a fire blocking them off and when I emerged from the washroom, Gwen was the only one I had access to. I became aware of her powers and decided to try and salvage what I could from the situation and took her with me when I left... "

Finally, the report came to a stop and Rudy waited nervously, briefly peering into the back to make sure Gwen was still alive - despite landing unceremoniously and swallowing her heart when she'd fallen, she was fine - and flip-flopped with hoping that he hadn't drawn out the report too long and worrying that he hadn't been thorough enough with the details of what had happened. Licking his lips rapidly, and realizing that the blackmail plot he'd had in store for Stephanie was no longer going to work - there wasn't going to be any jerking this guy around and casting any blame on anyone else right now would probably fall into the category of "words that would make a tear fall from his mother’s eye" - Rudy decided it wouldn't hurt to grovel and beg a little bit.

"I...had no clue at the time that I was even responsible for any Agents other than my own, even when Alexander's powers became apparent to me... It was just a mistake... I'm... I'm sorry, Mr. Patten... If I had known they were your men I would have taken the right precautions to make sure that nothing went wrong... As it is... it was a loss of communication and bad luck to encounter Alexander that was responsible for what occurred... it could have happened to anyone..." He paused. "Please...sir...Mr. Patten...have mercy..."

As she listened to the back and forth from her new position on the floor, Gwen blinked at the soft, pleading tone that had entered Rudy's voice near the end. The dynamic between the different ranks in the Agency was intriguing to watch - and "A-1"? What was that? Like, "President" or something? - and she didn't know whether to enjoy watching Rudy squirm or to worry herself about the man who was not a man on the other line. Even just hearing his voice, she didn't need to delve any deeper to know that Rudy asking for "mercy" was a lost cause. But she also knew that if she were in his place, she'd probably do and say anything to better her chances, especially if Eric Patten had the authority to make good on all his threats.

Even though the Agency car Rudy was driving was classier than most, the floor was still uncomfortable and the carpeting was not only stiff, with tightly packed fibers, but thin as well. Adjusting her position slightly, she contemplated reaching out for help with the other drivers on the road - even though her mouth was taped, she knew from her encounter with Osono that she didn't need to use her voice to put a suggestion in someone's head. But as soon as the thought occurred to her, she tossed it away with a sad wince, the images of the men from the hotel dying, flashing before her eyes. She'd forced her will upon innocent strangers to get them to blindly dive into a situation where they were severely impaired even compared with Rudy and she'd gotten them killed. It made her double guess the merits of even using it again. Without Alex and Xander here, though...it made her extremely vulnerable to just sit and wait...

***

Back in her seat, busily chewing away to distract herself from the emptiness and residual sickness that swayed in her stomach, Stephanie barely looked up when Eric's phone rang yet again. She did however glance in Jason's direction when he spoke up, obviously about to inquire after her well-being. She wasn't really sure how to feel about that... There was nothing particularly concerned about him asking her and normally, she would be irritated about him thinking her weak enough that he even needed to ask. And maybe it was because of their time together on this flight that was affecting the way she was feeling but...she read more into the almost asked question than was probably there.

Stephanie would have taken the moment to berate herself for her foolish flights of fancy, but luckily, Benoit cut the whole situation short and drew attention to Eric who still hadn't answered his phone. Remembering what he'd said about demoting Rudy a rank for every minute he didn't get in touch with him, she assumed he was doing it on purpose to get the guy to sweat a little. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to demote him? That seemed unlikely, considering his own rank; he didn't need more of a reason than what he already had to punish Rudy. So it was probably the former reason of getting Quin frantic before finally answering the phone.

Silence reigned for the next few minutes after that and she found herself internally rolling her eyes. Oh, yes...she remembered that about him. Rudy really liked to hear himself talk, often ranting and prating on about the most nonsensical crap, taking forever to get to the point. She'd been lucky in her conversation with him that he hadn't gone on forever, but despite herself, she sat tensely watching what Eric would say in response. For normal situations with those on his level, Rudy could get away with being an idiot who didn't know when to shut up. But as the silence wore on longer, she couldn't believe he'd be so foolish to do so with Eric.

As the A-1 Agent introduced himself in those low tones that made her strain to grasp onto, she knew right away that Rudy had indeed screwed up. The idiot probably hadn't even known who he'd been speaking to. The rest of Eric's conversation had her perched politely on the edge of her seat to even hear, but from what she could generally glean from the whole thing was that he was probably the most fantastic and utterly beautiful person she'd ever met.

Not beautiful in the traditional sense, but she wasn't even the object of his scorn or the threats he dealt with cold ease and it sent a shiver down her spine. That familiarity with violence and the power rippling off of him in waves was very magnetic and she enjoyed very much watching him work tearing someone down before smoothly shifting modes to a more relaxed state. The fact that Rudy was the target was just an added bonus that made her feel giddy and threatened to make her swoon in admiration.

Still...a small frown appeared on her lips to wonder what Rudy might have said to Eric and what he would say or do in what was probably now desperation. She worried about Gwen first and foremost. Would he hurt her? Had he hurt her already? Ever since her own phone conversation with Rudy and his mention of drugging Gwen, she'd imagined her target lying in a constant state of unconsciousness all the way to Charlton. It would be the most convenient plan of action to keep the target in such a state while transporting her. But Rudy wasn't a smart person...

Buckling her seatbelt, she prepared for their landing while still focusing intently on the conversation and anything that might be said about Gwen. Although another reason to physically hurt Rudy when he arrived in Charlton would be nice, the fact that Gwen was already so much a part of her made her anxious that he'd mistreated her in some way.

***

Was he fucking serious? Seriously? Just because she had powers didn't mean she was fucking invincible! And just because she felt obligated to share with him that she wasn't a bomb-factory didn't mean in any way that she had doubts about her involvement or that she didn't want to help! Well, screw him if she ever told him anything about herself ever again! You know what? Fine! She'd fucking deal with the problem - he didn't have to be burdened any further about what she did or didn't need!

Ozzie had to resist the urge to heat the room again, clenching her fist and grinding her teeth as he finished gathering his stuff, and helped the warmth threatening to overtake her subside by counting to ten. Do not burn Ben. Do not burn Ben. Do not consume Ben in a blaze of firey death... She could not comprehend what Gwen saw in this guy if he couldn't get over himself for even a few seconds.

She didn't really have anything to say to him - and if she did talk, she knew she was just going to start swearing and getting angrier and angrier until he ended up with his hair on fire - so she was silently following him into the hallway right on his heels and unperturbed that he didn't seem to want to wait for her. Adjusting Gwen's bag on her shoulder helped her stop imagining different ways to barbecue him though.

Ignoring his incomprehensible murmuring to himself kept getting harder and whatever conversation he was having was growing more intense by the minute. No longer did she find this cute or funny, so she tensed defensively when he finally addressed her enough to answer her question. She'd practically forgotten she'd even asked about that, with how mad he kept making her. They were like Body Snatchers then? ...She tried not to get unsettled when she realized the reason she even knew of that movie was because Rudy had told her about it - hmmm, maybe he'd been trying to hint at something...?

And Ben's quick little explanation for his bad behavior made her sneer at him. She'd fucking offered the bed to him and he'd said 'no' and now she was suppose to be understanding when he took it out on her? And "Do not expect him to apologize"??? Do. Not. Burn. Ben...

By the time they were on the elevator, she'd fully euthanized her murderous urges and had retreated back into a surly silence. Like she'd said before, they didn't need to be friends to do this - but damn it all if they couldn't be civil! It wouldn't bother her so much if she didn't own most of the guilt, so instead of letting his bad attitude roll off her back, she felt defensive with the way he kept treating her.

As he spoke up and explained further about these Agent people, she felt herself grow cold and a different tension enter her body. Not out of fear for herself, but for Gwen. So they were like Body Snatchers! Why wasn't he more worried? These people had Gwen and that meant they were probably putting someone in her head right now! Maybe he was worried... maybe that was why he was being such an asshole. It wasn't the bed or his foot that had him talking down to her every time he said something or kept him murmuring agitatedly to himself. It was because he was scared.

All at once, as they made it to the ground floor, even with her own worries about Gwen being in current danger, she found enough strength in her new realizations to not want to brutally kill Gwen's boyfriend anymore. Of course, he was stressed about whether they would even find her let alone make it in time to save her, and Ozzie was a convenient target to take it out on. Although she understood and it did make her feel better about things, she still thought he was being a super, big fat baby for dealing with his feelings in that way. Then again...considering how she'd been dealing with her own guilt by lashing back out at him, she wasn't much better in that regard.

Following him to the check-out counter, she waited nearby, watching as he first selected a car - an Audi! Sweet baby Jesus! - and passed his credit card across the counter without blinking an eye about the price. When he turned to her wearily with that offer of information, she smirked slightly.

"Me? Get mad you? Now you're really just making up stories, Penis-Neck," and despite herself, she actually laughed about that again. That new nickname was definitely a keeper. She could get through the rest of this without a problem and all she had to do was call him that and remind herself of the irreverent doodle he'd put on himself.

When she'd finally calmed down enough to speak clearly again, she clapped him heavily on the back in a rough gesture of camaraderie. "I don't know... If there's anything more indepth I need to know about Them that will help us deal with Them then fine, but the rest, I don't really wanna hear about it. Mostly, I just want to know where we're going and what the plan is for getting her out before a Body Snatcher takes her over."

She wasn't going to bring up the doubts she had about making it in time. No. They were going to get her back and she would be Gwen, the real Gwen. That was all there was to it. "Other than that... I guess I'd like to know your name. When I keep calling you 'Ben' it makes me feel like a dumbass." Not that she was likely to call him by it as much, when there were so many much more entertaining things to address him by.

[Tartra]

He shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. With Eric like this, the grating fear that he’d be set off into a monster hung thick in the centre of his throat. He couldn’t swallow without coughing on it, which was fine because his mouth had gone dry anyway. He didn’t know why he cared if he wasn’t being punished, but the man’s voice and his endless silence kept him from tearing his attention away. He was stuck giving it his whole focus, even as he felt the nose of the plane tip when they finally began their decent.

It was morning again. He’d left his window open because the night sky had offered no threat of daylight, but now the heat of the sun was on his legs. His lead’s and Benoit’s windows were open, too; Eric’s was not, and the shade around him seemed to suck the morning glow from the air. A dead circle of darkness lay around the A-1’s seat as he continued to... say nothing. Jason sat back and let the air tighten around his chest. His bottle was empty from last night’s binge, but enough drops were leftover to slosh against the front of the glass. The ground was more in focus, more centred in his view. It was too early in the landing for him to feel anxious, but the longer he waited for some definitive word that the ice in Eric’s voice had thawed, the more the stress would get to him. Worse than that, an impossible curiosity had filled his mind.

Here was a person who’d redefined what it meant to look on the sunny side of life. He might’ve had his quiet spat with Benoit at Elmira, but even then, there’d been an ease to it. Jason hadn’t felt a wrench of pain in his gut when the forms had been reoffered with a voice of stark authority, and as the too-white sheet brought out to strip him of his suit for good appeared, a quiet half-apology, half-‘my hands are tied’ came with it. There was none of that when he spoke to Rudy. He was the A-1 every Agent expected: cold, relentless, unforgiving and scraping for any excuse to tear his victim limb from limb. Whether it’d be metaphorical or otherwise didn’t matter. Quin was not getting out of this unscathed. Jason heard the steady breath as Eric readied his –

“Okay, I forgive you. But Rudy? I’m super serious about working hard from now on. Keep little Gwennie safe, or some adorable A-5’s gonna have his head mounted on my wall with the others. Cupcakes and sugar!” And then he hung up. The sun swam merrily around his head as he opened the window and smiled. “What a cute kid. You’ve gotta admire him for what he is.”

“He sounds like a pain,” Benoit muttered.

“Maybe,” Eric rolled out. “Then again, he has somebody captured. I don’t see Alex on this plane anywhere, unless he picked up ‘invisible, weightless and mute’ along with that eye thing.”

“Speaking of which,” Frenchie went on, “if you plan to take the girl to Elmira, I assume you also plan to leave me behind to handle Alexander.”

“Oh – no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Eric tut-tutted and shook his head. “That’s nowhere near what I want. See – I was thinking –” Benoit looked sick at the word. “Relax! This is a good idea!”

He was back to normal. It was as if Rudy had never called. The sting of his voice on the phone had faded and Jason was left wondering what was there to have been worried about. He felt stupid. Eric might have had his Agent-y moments, but everyone did. He was more like a teddy bear than anything.

... Right there, at that moment, he was more afraid of Eric than anyone he’d ever met.

A-1s weren’t normal. They didn’t count as people even if basic biology said they did. Every person on this plane was fully aware that an A-1 at his best was a psychopath at his worst, but somehow Eric had changed it for them. His smiles and delight had warped the view they should have kept clear: he was dangerous – more than any case, more than Alexander, maybe more than Jason’s target at her full potential. He had an unshakable grip on everyone around him and yet no one had noticed. He dug too deeply for them to argue. It took pulling rank over Benoit, throwing rules at Jason, and Quin could be brought in line just by scaring him shitless... Whatever chink in his lead’s armour she thought she’d hidden away was probably lit in neon to Eric’s eyes. But – still, Jason found himself shaking it off, because even if he was an A-1, he was Eric, and what happened on the phone was not the honed result of unnaturally honed manipulation. It was protocol. Pure protocol.

More rules. Jason would lie down on train tracks if there’d been a rule.

“I should hope you learned your lesson from the last time you had a ‘good idea’,” Benoit said. “I certainly did.”

“Right – don’t get your leg in the way of sharp sticks. Actually, I think that was on Sesame Street.”

“Yes. I saw that one. The letter was ‘A’ for ‘You’re an Asshole’,” Benoit told him. “Leave me behind. I can handle Alexander alone.”

Jason waited for it. The pieces were in place. It was obvious in a way he couldn’t believe he’d ignored. The set-up was there, and with the slightest touch, Eric could shatter the response and force it to go his way. He was in charge, after all. Why wouldn’t he act on it? Pulling rank again made –

“Alright, if you insist.”

Dammit!! That was the second time... But Jason wasn’t wrong about this. His senses were picking up and he was doing his own analysis. Eric was an A-1, A-1s were insane, so Eric was insane. Even if he didn’t act like it. Even if he hadn’t shown the slightest sign of erratic behaviour. No better and no worse than anyone on his level... If he was trying to keep whatever was inside of him tucked within his shadows, he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Sir?” Eric turned around. His face was relaxed in enjoyment. It was welcoming enough for Jason to finish asking. “Am I wrong in thinking you’re evil?”

He giggled. Jason was soothed by the sound until he cut it off with a frank, “No.”

“... You’re... you’re evil?”

“Hugely.”

Jason frowned. He tried again.

“Are you joking?”

“Nope. Evil? Me? You got it. Benny?”

“What.”

It seemed Frenchie couldn’t be bothered to play along right now.

“How evil am I?”

“As evil as you are annoying.”

“See?” Eric beamed. “Evil.”

That settled absolutely nothing. He believed him because Eric had no reason to lie – not to them, as long as they were his lackeys – but the honesty was overwhelming. He couldn’t trust it. A game was being played around them and knowing his place on the board wouldn’t help until he knew the man’s opponent. Something told him whoever it was would be just as deadly. Jason numbly picked at his suit’s sleeve. Then he held on tighter to the seat as the plane began to drop. It was ten minutes until they arrived in Charlton. One short drive later and they’d be at the lab.

“I’m confused again,” Jason said, his voice rising with each drop in altitude. “The plan keeps changing.”

“Because he keeps changing it,” Benoit said. “Listen up: when Quin arrives with your target, take her and go. I will be staying to neutralize Alexander. No matter what he says, that step stays as is.”

“That’s right,” Eric agreed.

“Prepare the system but do not begin until you hear from me. I will not have a botched transfer on my hands because someone refused to wait until Alexander was contained.” Frenchie kept his balance flawlessly intact while the plane descended. He turned gracefully to shoot a look at Jason’s lead. “I suggest you make yourself comfortable when you return to Elmira. You have a day to sit through before you can start. If, by that time, I have not made contact, panic.”

“But I’m sure it’ll be handled before then,” Eric said, “‘cause I’m gonna hang around to help!”

“No.”

“What? Why not?”

“No.”

“Benny – come on!”

“Try,” Benoit said. “See what happens.”

A long, whiny, agonizing moan flopped out of Eric’s mouth. He kept it up until Frenchie glared like he’d get up and slap the man across his face.

“I’d be such a benefit, Benoit! You’d do great having me around! Sure, you know ol’ Alex better than anyone, but Xander needs special handling that I’m historically and exclusively able to provide. Besides!” He tugged proudly at the collar of his jacket. “I’m a part of your team, aren’t I?”

Benoit had no immediate answer. His mouth curved into a faint smile, as if those words cut too deep to let him do anything but laugh. In a way that only an A-3 could manage, he looked away calmly, locked down his seething, and instantly began to smoke. He had a cloud wrapped around him in seconds.

“If you were part of my team, you would take the order to go to Elmira,” he said softly. “I can’t stop you. Do what you want.”

Eric didn’t have to pull rank. That dig had been enough to get the man to bend. So what else didn’t Eric need to do?

Underneath their feet, the wheels touched the runway.

* * *

Goin’ to the guh-raaaage! Gonna get an Awe-deeee! Gonna get –

“If you don’t stop singing, I’m throwing a fit in every Starbucks we find until you’re blacklisted,” Alex snapped.

...

“That’s better.”

Alex needed to concentrate. Osono’s question shouldn’t have been this hard to answer and the enormous time he was taking – two minutes so far! – had to have been putting her on edge. He got that feeling no matter what he told her, she was going to think he was lying, but anything was better than ‘Penis-Neck’. Dammit, Xander...

... guh-raage... duh-nuh-nuh nuh awe-deee...

“Shut up,” he spat. He timed it to his turn away from the counter, grabbing the keys and wrapping his fingers tightly around their teeth. “Thanks for the help. The garage is that way?”

“That’s right. There’s a line of signs that can point you in the right direction,” the woman behind the counter said. She smiled her plastic smile and then went back to work. Alex was glad to be rid of her.

He was still mulling over his response to her as he walked down the hall. He had the patience to wait for her this time, but with time bearing down on them – Xander was convinced they had room in their schedule for coffee, but Alex was feeling the pressure he’d missed out on when he’d demanded they sleep – he kept up a swift pace. His foot would hate him later, but it couldn’t get worse. He’d live. Hopefully. Was there a way to die from a broken foot?

“The plan...” He’d answer the easier stuff first. “The plan is to find an Agent. They have the codes we need to get into a lab where they should be taking Gwen. We go in there, we find her...” Find Xander’s body, get rid of him, make sure he didn’t immediately decide to sell them out. “I can’t hammer out the details until I see what we’re up against, but that’s the outline of it. First thing’s first: Agent. We have five addresses, we’re gonna go to them, we’re going to start a scene and that should send a clear enough message for them to check it out. That’s unless we run into one of them on the way.”

Has to be a high enough ranking one, though. The little ones aren’t always guaranteed access to the labs, just the crappy warehouse and office parties. A-9 and up is what we’re looking for.

“Yeah, but how hard could those be to find? We trip over them every other day,” he mumbled.

You’d be surprised how nowhere-to-be-seen they are when you actually need one. I imagine we’ll see plenty of A-12s and the rest of the Flunky Bunch long before we get a good one.

How long was this going to take?

We might get it on the first try if we’re really impressive. Hence the dynamite.

“We’re going to Charlton. That’s where the lab we need is located. With some luck, we get there before she does. We’ll be able to prepare that way. With more luck, while we’re preparing, we don’t get swarmed.” His back hurt. Why’d she have to hit him so hard? As if the fight he’d been unconscious for with the big hadn’t roughed him up enough... “Also, can you lay off on the ‘touching’ and the ‘punching’ and the overall... pain delivery? I’ve had a bad few days.”

Crutches. They should stop by a doctor’s.

Can’t. No time.

“If there’s time for Starbucks, there’s time to get crutches,” Alex whispered. The door to the rental lot swung open for them. “Now where’s this thing?”

... nuh-nuh-nuh –

“Stop it. You’re giving me a headache.”

There, there, there! Oooh – it’s white! It looks so clean and pretty and fast! I love it. I want to marry it. Get me closer so it can have my babies.

It took longer for him to find it, but when he did, he was a little excited, too. He’d never driven a car like that without ruining it with paranoia. People were so quick to call the cops when their things went missing that no one was able to enjoy it. This would be interesting, except that interesting wasn’t his main concern. ‘Fast’ was the important part. He hobbled over to the driver’s side and blankly opened it up.

“... Alex.” If it’d been a bad idea, Xander would have said something. “My name’s Alex. Alexander – but... Alex is fine.”

Introducing himself always felt so odd. He’d given half his name away already. Offering up the four letters he had left struck him as losing a part of himself. He was exposed now. She didn’t know who he was but the fear was bubbling up anyway. He wouldn’t ask if she’d heard of him even if he wanted to; it’d be suspicious and the answer would be ‘no’. At least she wasn’t asking for a last name, too.

Get in! Get in, get in! I wanna drive!

With his bag in the back and Gwen’s soon to follow, Alex dropped heavily into the front seat.

“Where’s the first place we’re going to go?”

1447 Stokes Boulevard.

“... And...”

GPS! GPS!

GPS it was. He started the car and, over the excited squeal that rang throughout his mind, the quick chime of the dashboard surging to life greeted him. 1447... Stokes... There it was. Twenty minutes away, so not bad, even if it was in the other direction a bit.

“This won’t take long,” he said.

... Ahem.

“What?”

Alex’s hand reached for the GPS again.

Okay. Nevermind. First stop: Starbucks. Apparently.

[Guest]

To say that Rudy felt some of the threat and overall malevolence from the man connected ear to ear with him, would be an understatement. It practically oozed through the phone dripping into his skull and had Quin sitting on pins and needles even while he tried to concentrate on the road he was still driving on. So, when Eric finally responded back to Rudy's long spiel and soul venting, the chipper tone in the other man's voice and abrupt disconnection felt like he'd crashed into a brick wall at 80 mph. Thoughts were swarming through his mind surrounding the man's last words to him and he couldn't believe the conversation was over. It was as much a relief as it was not.

"A-5? Waitaminute--Sir? Sir?" his voice was bordering on disrespectful as he shouted into the echo of the dial-tone. "FUCK!" And then the phone was no longer against his ear but flung out to clatter violently against the windshield where it stayed nestled on the dashboard quietly. "I fucking called you as soon as I could! It wasn't my fault! It was stupid, fucking Alexander!!!"

There was no question who Eric had been referring to when talking about an "adorable A-5" and what the implications were. The pompous ass! There hadn't been more than a minute between when he'd gotten the call from some "Lyddie" chick warning him about his time limit and when he'd phoned the guy. Although Eric had taken forever to answer, at the time, Rudy had let it roll off his back with the confidence that his conversation skills would smooth any and all threats over.

For almost 4 or 5 years, Rudy had been the Lead on Osono's case and an A-3 level Agent. And with how troublesome the pyromaniac metalhead was, it hadn't been easy to keep his position, let alone what it had taken to actually secure the spot for himself in the first place. Whereas others moved up the ranks in the Agency through hard-work and ingenuity, Rudy had done so by seducing the previous Lead on the case. His relationship with Noel went as far back as his first assignment as a lowly A-6 on her team, and ever since then, she'd done everything from covering his constant mistakes to pumping up his stats to justify an overly speedy promotion.

The most effort Rudy had ever put into keeping his position was allowing Noel to play "top" whenever she wanted to and whipping out the sexual contexts of their relationship whenever she was angry or stressed about his latest failure. Other than that, it had all been her doing. Never having filed a report for the case, Rudy was still the only living member of the team who had any idea what really happened on all the missions he'd led to take Osono down. And Noel was so dedicated to keeping her little boy toy, she willingly made up stories to fill in the blanks on records that would otherwise be damning and illuminate Quin as the incompetent fool that he was.

Even though there hadn't been a lot of effort involved, his position in the Agency had allowed him a certain amount of freedom, resources and power that he had grown well-accustomed to. Getting Osono was a side-option to be completed at the last minute, but the rest of the time, he enjoyed himself while still putting forth as little or as much effort to make it look like he was doing his job. He knew about Ozzie's hate-filled crush on him and that it would continue to keep her from killing him so long as he played the fool, so it was a win-win as far as staying on top went - and Noel had never questioned why Rudy remained the only constant, in fact growing jealous when she heard about Osono's deep-rooted feelings.

After the initial shock of his demotion passed, Rudy finally calmed down and let out a long, deep breath as he gripped the steering wheel. It was alright. It was going to be alright, he was still alive and could work his way back up again. At least that was the worst of his troubles now. Afterall, Mr. Patten had forgiven him for the mistake. Thinking positively once again, the usual haughty and geeky smile spread across his features and he laughed quietly to himself thinking that he'd gotten away pretty much Scott free once again. Well, almost...but he'd seriously thought the A-1 was going to kill him for a few seconds, so it was like he'd dodged a bullet "Matrix-style" in his opinion.

He glanced at the discarded phone and contemplated calling Noel for several minutes, but he suspected that she'd known all along who had his neck in a noose and had not told him - he'd fucking asked the bitch who she'd gotten the men from. And for that reason, he'd already thrown her away. It wouldn't be too hard to continue to manipulate her until he'd regained some semblance of control and then throw her under the bus later. He'd come up with something nice and crippling, just for her, and then take her position as the supervisor on Osono's case. When he was in charge, nobody could say "boo" to him. Ha!

Oh... that reminded him of the other thing Mr. Patten had said. He was suppose to "keep Gwen safe". Hm, maybe the little psychotic psychic was important to somebody afterall. Sitting up in his seat, Rudy peered into the rearview but couldn't see her. He had to glance back several times to get a good look at where she lay on the floor of the backseat.

"Hey, Porky," he said over his shoulder, while watching the road. "Did I shake ya up good? Funny little mind trick you tried to pull while I was talking to the bossman. Don't ever do it again."

This whole time, Gwen had been lying on the carpet trying to think while keeping an ear out for Rudy's reactions to the phone call he'd gotten. The other Agent's last words had not been what she'd expected from somebody like him - was "cupcakes and sugar" codeword for something or was Eric Patten just the gayest guy in the Agency, in addition to being a leader of some kind? - and she had no idea what A-5 or A-1 even meant. Alex might know. Xander would most definitely have an idea. At the thought of him, she once again stretched out as far as she could, straining her focus to find his mental signature, looking for that familiar pulse. It was like sitting in a boat out in the water and trying to see crabs walking on the seabed several hundred feet below. There were hints of things moving about but the actual ocean floor and the things on it were not even visible. He was too far away... She couldn't do it...

When Rudy addressed her, making another unnecessary jab at her weight - how long would he keep that up? Until he ran out of fat related names? - she turned slightly, on her side, to peer between the front seats to look in his general direction. He glanced back at her and saw fully for the first time what he'd done to her face and felt a sudden trickle of sweat coat the middle of his back through his shirt. He hadn't really thought about his abuse too hard when it had just been Stephanie he'd been delivering Gwen to - hell, he'd kinda let loose a little bit the two times Gwen had pissed him off, just to see the look on the woman's face when he finally dropped off her precious target. But now...the A-1 Agent was involved and he'd specifically asked for Rudy to keep her safe. Trying to predict Mr. Patten's reactions, he assumed he also meant keeping her safe from himself and he knew he couldn't deliver her looking like she was a hostage kept in somebody's basement for 3 days. That would be highly unprofessional and not fit into the 'working hard' criteria.

"Hey...how about we clean you up, huh?" he said, keeping an eye on the road but speaking loud enough so she knew he was addressing her. "If you promise not to make any other innocent people beat the shit out of me, forcing me to kill them, maybe we'll stop somewhere nice for lunch and get you in some new clothes or something."

Gwen blinked at that and shifted her lips under the duct tape that was starting to itch on her face. Was...was he being nice? She didn't know his reasons and she didn't want to know - although she suspected it had something to do with that phone call from his superior - but it was another opportunity. She knew that Rudy was currently going speeds that was bringing them closer to Charlton and that they'd probably make it there by late afternoon. Knowing what was waiting for her there, she had this one last chance to escape from his clutches. So far, her escape plans had been fueled by panic and desperation and they'd both failed. This time, she needed to be smart about it and ensure that if she was going to make another suggestion and enlist someone's help, that the risk to their life was smaller than the chance of success. But she also could not afford to wait until the opportunity passed her by. There was a fine line and she had to be sure the moment and the persons were right, otherwise, they'd be like flies on a windshield and more blood on her hands.

When he glanced back at her for an answer, she nodded and mumbled in agreement. Yes, she would be a good girl...

***

Taking the small piece of gum from her mouth, Stephanie very daintily placed the chewed chunk of rubber in it's wrapper and rolled it up neatly. The flavor had gotten bland and the tastelessness of it had been bothering her. But at least the taste it had been intended to cover up was completely gone now and every trace of her previous momentary illness was gone by the time Eric finally hung up on Rudy. At his statements, she almost snorted. Rudy? Cute and admirable? Only Eric, who saw everyone from such a high, cold perch could use terms like that and have it apply to the person he was talking about. Even when she'd sort of liked Rudy back in training, she still wouldn't have called him cute.

Airily, she listened to the current flow of conversation, making note of Benoit actually standing up to the A-1 for once, but her attention was fixated firmly in place at Jason's question. She had to hold back a long drawn out "aww" that threatened to escape her lips at not only the question itself but also her partner's reactions to Eric's response. Now THAT was cute! So innocent! Stephanie had never been the type of person to fawn or cuddle, but the urge to snatch him up and squeeze him tight was very real. He brought out the strangest emotions within her...

Truthfully, Stephanie did not consider things in such strict terms. In her personal opinion, Eric wasn't "evil", no matter what he said, but rather a man who saw what he wanted and had nothing holding him back from getting it. She had to admit, that as far as morals and decency went, there were very few things that Stephanie flinched at anymore and she'd tried just about everything. But there were still some things that tickled the emotional fiber within her and kept her restrained from action. These ideas and feelings held her back, whereas Eric had achieved true freedom from everything that would turn even the most hardcore Agent's stomachs. For that reason, she truly admired him, not only as a Leader and authority figure but also as a person. He was everything she'd, at one time in her life, hoped to be. Now she sought to achieve freedom in other ways...

As the plane shifted around her, she felt a burst of excitement fill her and a small smile came unbidden to her lips. It had less to do with the adrenaline of the plane's descent and more to do with their arrival in Charlton, what had become like a "Promised Land" for her. Even with needing to wait until Elmira to do her transfer and even with what Benoit was now saying they'd need to wait even longer while he got his shit together dealing with Alexander - none of it mattered. Charlton was where Gwen and her paths would converge and their destinies would twine inseparably together. Nothing could ruin her good mood barring Rudy showing up with nothing in hand.

As the plane touched down, she let out a conservative "Whoo!" and giggled a little, bouncing in her seat while watching the jet rush along the runway, progressively slowing down before coming to a complete stop. The Charlton airport was a tremendous relief to finally see and she cast a bright smile around to the others with her while unbuckling her seat belt.

"I'll be waiting eagerly for your signal, Benoit," she said, calmly but with an undercurrent of zealous energy. "You've been nothing but cooperative with my team on this case and I thank you greatly for everything. I also trust your judgment and agree, it would be best to wait until Alexander is no longer a threat before starting the transfer. The Devil knows, I don't want it to screw up either. And I'm almost certain, with Eric's help, you'll finally succeed in neutralizing your target."

She waited patiently, humming lightly to herself for first Eric and then Benoit to rise and proceed to the door of the plane before getting up as well and following them out, with Jason behind her. Standing at the top of the stairs that were pushed in front of the doorway, she breathed in deeply and let out a long sigh as a gentle morning breeze tossed a few strands of her light, golden hair about her face.

Turning back to look at Jason, she gave him a smile, her green eyes shining an emerald hue in the light of day and said excitedly, "She's almost here! I cannot wait!"

Near the bottom of the steps a limousine waited for them and a stony faced chauffeur dressed in black waited beside the rear door. At the bottom of the mobile stairwell, while Benoit and Eric proceeded to the car, Stephanie stopped suddenly and turned to Jason once again, her joy now dampened by a concerned look. Blocking his way down, she seemed to have forgotten the car and Gwen for the moment, fixated on this new worry. Seeing the car made her remember the promises and threats that had been made in the other vehicle.

Touching his arm gently, she looked over the suit he was wearing - sexy and slimming, she was just now realizing - and asked, "Are you going to be alright? The suit..."

This wasn't the time nor the place, she suddenly realized, once again becoming aware of the other two who were with them entering the car. Giving Jason one last, piercing green look, she turned and followed after the others, bending at the waist to slide into the stretched vehicle. There were two large seats in the back that faced forward, and a long three or four person seat along the one side, all covered in plush black leather, the car filled with the overpowering smell of it. Taking one of the seats along the side, Stephanie turned to Eric, suddenly intent.

"Are you still planning to kill Rudolph Quin?" she asked. "I do not mean to seem morbid or as if I'm overstepping personal boundaries, Sir, but... If you are, I would very much appreciate being there for it - if not an active participant in his leaving this world, then at least present to watch. If it's alright with you, Master."

Almost as soon as the word left her mouth, she knew it was wrong and a sharp blush filled her cheeks as she looked away. Oh fuck! Why would she call him that!? She hadn't called anyone that in years! Why now!? Gently, she smoothed a hand over her lap and cleared her throat, willing the heat to leave her face and trying to think of something to say in place of that to cover up her blunder - maybe he wouldn't notice? She could only hope that he wouldn't bring it up. God! She was such a moron!

"I'm sorry, if I seem a little scatter-brained at the moment..." she said hiding in her safe and secure monotone, keeping her eyes trained on the floor and then on her hands in her lap and then the windows. "I've been chasing Gwen for three days when I had originally expected to have her in my clutches within 5 hours of ordering her capture. When Rudy brings her... This will be the first time I've had real, face-to-face contact with her without needing to subdue her. I'm just a little excited..."

There, that was an explanation... sort of.

***

Osono didn't really expect him to take this long answering the questions she'd asked, but she supposed it might have to do with him not having all the chinks in the plan figured out yet. That was fine, she was willing to wait for his mind to work through it. Meanwhile, however, she had to think of herself. With only a few dollars left in her wallet, she needed to figure out a way to provide for herself so she wasn't stuck leeching off of the schizo. He may have had a cushy wallet, but she didn't want to add to the reasons why she wasn't an asset.

So, as they left the counter and proceeded towards the garage, Ozzie was busy looking over the few people they passed while still in the lobby, searching for a good mark. She found him when they entered the first hallways, a portly man in a business suit with a long overcoat with hems that dangled just over the ground. He glanced at Alex as he passed him first, but did not even seem to see Ozzie until she bumped heavily into the right side of his chest.

"Oh! sorry, dude! Ya alright?" she asked as he shook himself slightly and carried on as he'd been going, barely nodding in answer to her question and eager to leave her presence.

She watched him for a few seconds more before hurrying after Alex, just in time to hear him start detailing what the plan was. Find an Agent, huh? Seemed simple enough and she knew he'd wanted to find one before, but now she knew why. Of course, these guys were high-tech and classified enough to keep their "head quarters" locked up tight. Rubbing her hands together, she became eager to get started, now that she knew what they were suppose to be doing and that they had a definite place where they were supposed to be going.

As he elaborated even more, she started to search her memory for anything she knew about Charlton. Nope. Didn't ring any bells and she didn't think she'd ever been there before. Which was probably better for them, going someplace where she hadn't left behind a trail. Agents weren't likely to be the only ones to remember her in the cities she'd passed through.

When he warned her not to touch him or punch him anymore, she smiled and took her pack of cigarettes from her pocket. "Sure, thing, pussy," she said with a cig between her lips, quickly casting a glance around before starting an ember on the end of it just as they passed through the doors to the rental lot. Following him to the car when he found it, she blinked happily at the vehicle and ran a hand over the door before opening it and sliding in.

"Freaking Metal," she murmured around her cigarette as she petted the dashboard and felt at the seats before closing the door behind herself. The divider between the seats was complex and interesting and she spent a few moments opening it up and looking around in the small, empty compartments. Satisfied with her inspection, she turned and rolled down the window with a push of a button and flicked the ash off her cigarette outside before returning it to her mouth.

Ozzie waited until they'd left the lot behind before she dug into the wide sleeve of her army jacket and pulled out a tan leather pocket book. The wallet itself was long and rectangular, with a golden clasp on the front which she flipped open carelessly. Inside the long pocket for cash, she murmured appreciatively to find several high-marked bills. Quickly, she removed them and counted it out to be about $800, stacking them together straight in her hand before folding them and tucking them away in her pants pocket. Then she proceeded to look over the rest of the wallet, taking a moment to show Alex the photo of the guy fishing and muttering, "What a square. Nice shorts though, eh?"

The cards that lined the inner pocket were useless to her - a few bankcards that she didn't have the PINs for and several club and exclusive membership credit cards that they would never send the average Joe in the mail. When she grew bored with it, she tossed it flippantly out the window and blew a stream of smoke after it.

"So, 'Alex', huh?" she said with a smirk and crinkling her nose at him. "You couldn't come up with something more girly? Fine, whatever. If that's what you wanna be called. So long as you answer to it. As much as I'd like to scream 'dipshit' from across a room to get yer attention, I kinda have that reserved for generally everybody." She flicked her cigarette again and smiled meanly at him. "But 'Penis-Neck' is just special for you, I promise."

With that out of the way, she was now paying attention to the commands he'd been giving to the GPS and asked, "So, these places we're going to... What are they? Like...office buildings...headquarters? What? And sure, creating scenes. I got ya covered in that area." She could just start a really big fire and let it run loose and it was bound to grab somebody's attention. "Oh! But, I'll try not to melt anybody, since I know it hurts your feelings." She laughed lightly at that and turned on the radio, instantly searching out a heavy metal station and turning the volume up on a particularly brutal song.

"These speakers are the shit!" she yelled to him through the noise, bobbing her head lightly.

[Tartra]

Nope. Never. Alex turned the noise off and then forced his hands to stay on the wheel before he tried to choke her.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, but I’m not kidding,” he said. “Nobody has to die if we do this right. These addresses are for office buildings and they’re supposed to be abandoned.”

By Agents. Who knows what’s there now?

He was ready for a fight if it came to that.

“If they aren’t and the worst happens,” he went on, “I have no problem turning you in if you get out of line. The cops might not believe me, but there’s one group who’ll be interested.”

‘Alex’ was a common name. She didn’t seem to think it was the truth, either. If the Agents caught her and asked who she’d been running with, she’d have no choice but to spit out ‘some guy calling himself Alex or Ben or something like that’. It wasn’t exactly hard evidence, and with his case buried as deeply as it was, he doubted it’d send out more than a vague memory let alone set off alarms. There was the chance the Frenchman would hear about it and put two and two together, but Alex was more worried about him hearing from Rudy than from anything Osono could say. But this was good. He had to play this part up. Yes, the thought of her gleefully burning anyone in her way churned his stomach, and it felt great to tell someone how sick they were for wanting to do it – and even better to have a response of guilt now and then instead of immortally smug pride – but I do it so well. He didn’t have to draw it out like this, though. He understood the reasons and what the desperate had to do when a gun was in their face, but so long as he kept her convinced the most she had to worry about was him running to the cops, he’d destroy any sense of a threat she’d gotten from him. Fantastic, because since she’d tagged along officially, he needed her to be as unafraid of him as possible. It’d throw her off-guard, make her underestimate him, and it set a clean way for him to blow up her mind if she went for that ‘final speech of how pathetic you are, Alex’ stunt the Agents were crazy about. That, and with her thinking he was too weak to do any heavy-lifting, she’d be running and he’d get to stay off his foot. The less danger he ran into, the less need Xander would have to get involved. It’d keep him focused on controlling the pain in his toes, and that was almost as important as getting Gwen back.

Almost, Xander put in. How much thought have you put into what’s happening after I get my body back?

“Huh?”

Great answer. Alex felt his fingers tingle. Drive faster, will you? The only reason I’m riding shotgun is ‘cause you won’t stop crying about the way I do it.

“I’d be more comfortable if you did things like recognize stop signs,” he replied. “What do you mean ‘after’?”

Where are you going to go?

“I’m going to get Gwen.”

Sure, sure. But the way I see it, we’ll be getting her back at roughly the same time. So what about after?

“... I’ll... do what I always did: hide until they give up and go home.”

Gwen’d be delighted to get sucked into that crap life. Hell – Sparky too, but she seems to be doing better at it than most people. I blame it on Rudy being half-retarded. A gun? I’m still pissed about that.

“I don’t think we should be discussing this when Gwen’s not here,” he mumbled. “She... might...”

Shit. Gwen probably had as much of an idea of what she’d do when this was done as he did. They’d made a mention of what would happen when Xander got his body back before, but it’d been under a different microscope: would it be another step in getting away or would they be unleashing something that’d drag them to their end? If he caught a whiff of the suspicion Alex let loose, and Alex knew he did, he didn’t say anything to call attention to it. Either he thought he’d explained himself enough already or he didn’t want to make anything worse. The uneasiness of trusting his answer and then trusting him when he was out of Alex’s head had been what’d stopped them from getting past this issue in the first place, because after that...

He’d never meant to run forever, but it’d been so easy with someone in his head doing the work that he hadn’t gotten around to making a permanent solution. And what was that supposed to be? If he killed the Frenchman, there’d be another Agent to take his place. Alright – maybe not. After all this time and manpower put in and failing to capture him, they might write him off if he took out his main attacker. But... if Xander was out, maybe they’d see him as a viable target again. Maybe they’d throw together a new team because he’d be practically defenceless. Six years and he’d hardly learned a damn thing – and he’d never asked before because until a few days ago, he’d been living under the full assumption he was simply insane. He couldn’t tell the guy to stay – he’d been straining at his leash for years – but maybe... if he hung around for a week or two or something... That didn’t sound so unreasonable to him.

Starbucks! Starbucks, Starbucks, Starbucks!

Yes. Starbucks. Mighty, mighty Starbucks.

“Okay, settle down.” He shot a wary frown at Osono. “Keep your eyes open for anyone after us. Don’t kill them. We’ll need them alive.” He wasn’t far from the door when he parked, and as he did and shut off the engine, he gave low sigh and a tired, “Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

Her smile might have been real, but it felt like she’d taken another swing at him, sticking it in his face like that. Did she want him to join in? No – she made her true purpose very clear soon after that. Despite it, he felt a little brighter, and that was out of the professional courtesy he’d maintained that insisted he come close to matching whatever his lead felt. It’d been hard with her constant blankness, but she’d been quickly showing more of herself lately, and she must’ve known it would’ve grown in him. That was why she immediately cut it down and asked him about his suit. And then she left, as if she’d only brought it up to make sure he hadn’t stopped thinking about how fucked he was going to be when he gave it back. Everything he’d worked for and everything he’d put into this...

Shut up. Stand straight. Everyone else was going to the limousine without a problem. Eric was almost skipping, so Jason wasn’t going to drag the spotlight over by dropping into any well-justified, thoroughly understandable moods.

His hands shook the second the word ‘suit’ came from her lips. She couldn’t let him live, could she? Not while there was entertainment left to be wrought out of him.

Or nevermind. When he got into the limousine and quietly slunk into his new seat, legs tired and in need of a good stretch but otherwise prepared for the drive, it seemed like the fun was going to come from his lead instead. At the word ‘master’, his eyes widened and his eyebrow twitched in bewilderment. Benoit didn’t react much, save for getting a new cigarette since he’d already burned through his last one, but that might not have had to do with anything. Eric didn’t even notice, or if he did, his response was buried in his already blinding smile. He seemed to appreciate her interest in his work.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I remember the first time I was about to transfer. And you’ve been working hard, Steph. Allow me to commend you on your tremendous contributions to the Agency. I don’t know if they ran you through the nitty-gritty of every promotional level, mostly because they’re infrequent beyond A-8, but it’s tradition to bump A-3s up to A-2s once they’ve successfully taken over. Who knows? Maybe you just being in the same room as her’ll be good enough for me to sign off.”

Benoit made a quiet noise. Jason thought it was a scoff at what’d been said, but when he turned his head away as if to remove himself from the conversation, a flickering smirk came over his face, lasting long enough to be seen before vanishing completely. He would’ve asked, but Jason didn’t know if he wanted the answer. And anyway, Eric wasn’t finished.

“As for Mr. Quin,” he went on, savouring the words and whatever thought was in his head to accompany them, “he’s definitely dead. I thought I’d be nice though, and wait until he brought Gwen in before I picked a method. It's normally a private affair, but... I think I can bend the rules this once. The more, the merrier! I like sharing my hobbies.”

“You never miss a chance.”

“Can’t help it,” Eric told Frenchie. “I wasn't kidding about that wall, and it’s in my best interest to have as many corpses around as possible. Y’never know when someone’s gonna pop up claiming they want revenge for... I don’t know. Whatever it is.”

Jason was curious.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Every other day.” The man beamed brighter than the sun. Jason had to squint. “It’s not a good week until someone tries to kill me.”

“... Have they?”

It wasn’t a stupid question with powers like his. Eric nodded, thrilled.

“I walk in very proud circles, Jay-jay,” he replied. “If it’s not an old target who wants to take out his hate for Agents everywhere, it’s some other Agent who ‘disagrees with me’. Sure – I’ve been killed, loads of times. Don’t mind it, not if it’s quick, and there’s always something dead lying around, but you’ll notice I’m still here and they’re... not.”

“You play possum and wait for them to go,” Benoit said. “Then you kill them in their sleep.”

“In their bed,” Eric corrected. “I wake them up.”

“It amounts to the same thing.”

Eric cooed.

“Ever the advocate for a fair fight! That’s probably why Xander caught Alex in the first place. If I remember correctly, he drugged you that day.” The A-1 giggled. “Let’s be real. You couldn’t think to use a mirror before he did?”

“I refused to risk it,” Benoit said. “Alexander-the-guest was under the impression that killing one target only meant he wouldn’t have those powers. He was happy to take whatever came his way.”

“What a whore, huh? I love that crazy guy! You’ll love ‘im too, Steph. He’s nuts,” Eric said. “So! We should be there in about fifteen minutes. Anyone hungry or are you a ‘straight to work’ kind of crowd?”

“Stop wasting time,” Frenchie growled. “Get us to the lab.”

He said it without the slightest hint of irony.

* * *

Oh – gawwwwwd – this line is so looooong. Just let me get one of the little ones! I won’t do it hard.

What sort of parent brought a children’s soccer team to Starbucks? Xander hadn’t questioned the decision, just the timing. He, Alex and Osono were stuck behind a young couple, one businessman, and a grungy blonde mother with a rainbow of children nipping at her heels for caffeine. She seemed frazzled and exhausted by their yelling. Alex knew the feeling.

“You’re not kicking one.”

Dude. Look at their shoes. Those are cleats! I’m sure they get kicked worse all the time – they’re not gonna suddenly break ‘cause I nudge one in the knee and take his ass to the floor.

“I told you ‘no’,” Alex said, looking around the room. Everyone’s eyes were in their direction, but they were focused on the screaming, drooling, foaming kids dancing in the line. They wouldn’t stop jumping. They almost landed on his bad foot, but Xander, finally on his side, snatched it away before it got stomped on. That child had barely missed the brush of death. “Just... wait. They’ll probably only get those pretzel sticks. It’ll be one, fast order. Calm down.”

Or –

“No.”

Okay – then – just... Just get one of them to look at you –

“You’re not mind frying a child,” he snapped. “Are you crazy?”

I’ll be doing everyone a favour. That bitch’s a booger away from cracking them in two anyway!

“Then you’ll let her do it and stop interfering,” he muttered sharply. “We should use this time to talk.”

In public?

“Nobody’s watching us.” And Osono had to be a little distracted by those monsters. Two of them were have a brawl across the floor. That’d nearly set Xander into a murderous rage right then and there – because how dare they sully the sanctity of Starbucks with their stupid fight if they weren’t even going to do the smart thing and make it to the death – but it’d gotten close enough to their new teammate that he was sure their ugly shorts had scraped over her boot. It was mesh and there were no buttons to leave a mark, but Xander was looking for excuses to shove one of them in a box and mail it to Elmira with ‘I have superpowers’ written on the front and it was starting to take root in Alex’s head, too. “What you said about having a plan for after you leave... That’s important. I think... well – I think we should talk about when that is.”

When we get to Charlton. Okay – seriously, this is why I hate kids! But he loved kids. I love babies, ‘cause they’re round and they make funny noises. I like toddlers ‘cause they look like drunkards who can’t walk. Anyone over the age of seven and under the age of seventeen should be put in a room and left there until they learn how to stop being so fucking bratty.

“Anyway,” Alex went on, “I want you to stay with us for a month.”

What for? After I’m back to being me?

“Yeah. I mean... it’s fine to ask what we have to do, because it’s obvious the answer is ‘get the Agents away from us,’” he said. “But you were one of them. If I’ve learned anything from the French guys who keep following us, it’s that there isn’t a whole lot of a life for them outside of work. What do you really have to go back to?”

Gee, thanks.

“I’m not trying to say you don’t have a life,” Alex said. “You probably wrestled bears or something but... if you’re not in a rush to get back to where you were, or you need some time to get used to being you again... why not stay for a month and show us how to get along without you?”

Unless he already knew what he’d be doing. Unless he really would go back to the Agency.

I’ll think about it. And as if he knew Alex was going to keep giving him reasons, he tacked on, Don’t worry about this now. And – please, kick one of them!

Another flawless change of the subject. Not quite subtle, but effective.

“I – argh!” That stupid bastard child had run over his good foot! If they weren’t on the field, why in hell didn’t they get back into their sneakers? He’d call it a safety hazard, but with the way everything was going, the woman at the centre of the pack might’ve told them to keep them on so they’d fall and she could leave them at the doctor’s. It was a horrible thought and he felt bad for not immediately taking it back, but this was unbearable. “Your coffee had better be worth it.”

It’s Starbucks.

Blah, blah, blah.

Alex needed direction. He’d take anything right now, even if it was to just cross it off his list of possible options. With that in mind, he turned around to face Osono, jerking away from one of the tiny demons racing past his waist. “So. You knew you were being chased, you knew Rudy was a creep... Were you going to put up with it forever? What was the goal?”

He’d had a hundred lives. Whenever the Agents chased him out of a city, he’d start up a new one in the next. The hard part was going to be keeping one life, because when he settled down and was safe, he didn’t plan on changing anything anymore. That already felt odd. He was incredibly removed from society. What was he even asking Xander for? No emotions meant no attachments. He’d never have to settle down if he didn’t want to. Alex was on his own with this one, then. It figured.

[Guest]

When Eric spoke, Stephanie's eyes unwillingly drifted back up to focus upon him. It seemed disrespectful to look away from him while he was addressing her, as if she weren't giving him her full attention, and there was suddenly a very strong urge to give him every measure of reverence and obedience she could muster that hadn't been present when they'd been on the jet. She didn't understand it and the feeling was familiar, but at this particular moment, she was beyond the point of introspection and allowed her green eyes to latch back onto his face, giving him the appropriate amount of eye contact while he beamed gloriously at her.

There was a note of understanding in his voice that immediately set her at ease, melting away the mortification she'd suffered mere seconds before, but what really had her filled with comforting butterflies was his praise. She hadn't realized until that moment that his approval was something she had been looking for, but she definitely noticed it now. Again, the feeling was familiar, but she did not examine it closely, preferring to let it wash over her and striving to hear more praise for her coming from his lips. She wanted to be included in everything he thought was important.

Her eyes were shining so much at the prospect of being promoted and rewarded for achieving her long sought after goals, that she neither noticed the look that crossed Benoit's face, nor even considered the very real potential for her target to escape again once she had her hands on her. In her mind, right now, all that was running through the realm of possibilities was that this was it, the final leg of her arduous journey coming to a close with a new door waiting for her and ready to open at the end of the tunnel.

Stephanie wasn't too heavily invested in watching Rudy die, although it was something she knew without a doubt would bring her a great deal of pleasure. But mostly it was the combination of the identity of the victim and the fact that Eric would be the executioner that had her eager to witness it. The man was like a God when it came to dealing in death and the dreamy look in her green eyes deepened as he once again elaborated on his constant escape from the Fate that held the rest of them chained down to this Earth. And also, a small blush dusted her cheeks appreciatively when he mentioned "bending the rules" to allow her to be present to watch him deal Quin his last breath.

"Nothing will ever stop you..." her voice held just the tiniest bit of awe and it was reflected heavily in her expression as she looked at him. The moment passed quickly and with a blink her face closed again, but the look remained in a much more restrained form as she continued on. "I thank you for granting the opportunity to watch you work; just one more thing to look forward to today. As for...'Xander', is it? I must admit that I've been consumed and fixated on my own target through this to the exclusion of almost everything else." Almost. "With all the talk about him when I'd only heard rumors before entering the field, I am intrigued about the man who stole my little Gwendolyn's heart."

It was somewhat the truth. With everything else that had been occupying her attention through this pursuit of Stewart, a certain curiosity about Alexander had developed, especially with how fondly Eric and even Benoit seemed to talk about him. But even from the first moment she'd heard Gwen had left with him, she'd wanted to know why.

"I can reason it out and analyze her actions because of my personal knowledge about her - it makes the most sense that the trauma of her situation would push her closer to him, especially with his obvious familiarity in dealing with what she's going through. But from everything that has been said and has happened, I cannot help coming to the conclusion that there is something very specific and special about him in particular."

A soft smile came to her lips and she glanced at Benoit. "I am especially eager for the moment when you give me the call in Elmira. Not just for the obvious reason of allowing me to proceed to the next phase of this case, but also for the opportunity the event itself presents. The complete and utter collapse of the hope he is coming to save her, will be both heartbreaking and satisfying to watch as it finally descends upon her. Like the cherry on the top of a sundae, it will be a delicious start to the entire process."

Taking a break from fawning over Eric, she relaxed back in her seat then and glanced in Jason's direction. With the open nature of the inside of the car, there wasn't a lot she could get away with as far as physical contact. But her eyes wandered over him unabashedly, the green orbs filled with a sense of hunger and her lashes fluttering as she undressed him with a sweeping gaze, practically licking her lips as she did so. For several minutes, she silently entertained a fantasy of what it would be like to take him down in the luxurious vehicle, but eventually her vision cleared and she turned back to Eric.

Frowning briefly at Benoit, she looked fixedly at the superior Agent and said, "I agree. I'm very eager to get started. There's no need for further delays." The slight defensive and almost eager tone in her voice was like a rapidly moving undercurrent to the words themselves. Benoit was not going to win the award for being the most industrious, and although it sounded, with the offer he'd made, as if Eric wanted to stop for food, the positive connotations of the other option - them being a 'straight to work' crowd - was more emphasized with the way he'd said it.

The wine hadn't been very nice to her on the plane and her stomach seemed to still be in a temperamental mood, but logically, she knew stopping to get something to eat even when she didn't feel like doing so, was the smartest decision to keep herself working at optimal levels. However, the thought that Benoit, even growling disrespectfully as he had, would seem better and even more efficient than her made it impossible for her to back down. At this particular moment, impressing Eric was the most important thing in the world, and she'd cut off her own hand if it would put her in his favor.

***

Ozzie had of course, expected the music to go almost as soon as she'd started playing with the radio. She'd merely been pushing buttons and checking things out, enjoying the car in her own experimental way anyways. So, she didn't protest when Alex turned it off, and instead turned to open the glove compartment which was empty, as expected. She was somewhat distracted continuing to inspect what the other buttons did - she didn't touch the GPS for obvious reasons - but her attention zoomed back onto him when he mentioned turning her in.

That hadn't been something she'd thought about. The threat from Alex was no big deal and she didn't care what he'd try to do to exact control over her - she was much stronger than him in every way, especially with his gimpy foot - except when it regarded actually staying with him. She'd do the bare minimum to keep him happy and obey his "rules" just so she could continue to use his help in rescuing Gwen. She'd done just fine keeping ahead of Them and everyone else all these years, to the point where she considered the menacing group to be a bunch of idiots - in her mind, They'd gotten "lucky" stealing Gwen away just because there hadn't been anyone there to protect the other woman - and in his current condition, Alex would need her help as well. So, she wasn't too scared about him suddenly turning the tables on her. She'd deal with the problem just like she did every other thing - set them all on fucking fire.

Nodding at his instruction to keep an eye out for Agents, she nodded silently and exited the car, taking several deep sucking puffs on her dwindling cigarette, before regretfully tossing it to the pavement and crushing it underfoot. However, by the time they were in the queue from Hell, she'd forgotten all about that in place of focusing on the snot-faced demon-spawn that stood between them and coffee.

Osono didn't endorse conformity, and the past several years living out of motels and gas stations, taking what she needed from others, was certainly proof of that. But Starbucks was different, she reasoned. On a whim a few years ago, back when she'd been a normal member of society with an apartment and a job, she'd tried the place out, after going through a phase of active rebellion against it. Ever since then, she'd fallen in love with the place, and it was the only time she willingly followed the enmass zombified crowd that lurched into line every day without feeling like a sell-out.

A deep sneer curled her lip as she watched the little hellions run around, particularly focused on a pair that wrestled at her feet, and her fist tightened on the strap of Gwen's bag still slung over her shoulder. The only thing keeping her from heating the place up or starting any fires was the fact that it would be a violation of the heavenly place to fill it with the smell of burning flesh. She just couldn't allow that, so instead suffered in silence, glaring at the wild bunch of little psychos while alternatively casting murderous glances at the woman in charge of them.

She was only distracted from them when Alex turned to her with his questions and she glanced at him before thinking it over. "Goal? What do you want me to say? That in the back of my head, there was a distant hope that he'd turn out to be alright one day and that it'd be over, I'd be free and we could settled down, possibly start a goofy folk band together?" She shook her head and gave him a crooked grin that wasn't happy.

"I don't know. There wasn't a goal. Everytime he left, I swore, the next time I saw him, I'd just be done with it and cut off his head - and yes, alright? I knew he was connected with them constantly showing up, but I wasn't sure if he preceded them or if he called them to me and I didn't want to risk losing him as a possible 'alarm system'."

That wasn't much of an excuse and with the possibility of him actually being responsible for all of the attacks on her, it would have been much easier to just kill him, just in case. "I can't kill him." Ozzie didn't look at him while she said it, preferring to return to glaring at the still fighting brats on the floor. It was a hard thing to admit and she didn't know how to explain it - this was her life they were talking about and she'd basically shot herself in the foot over and over with this one, unexplainable weakness.

"I just can't. There hasn't been anyone but me to look after in years and other than the occasional company Rudy provided, I've been basically alone. No, there wasn't a plan or a 'goal' and there still isn't. After we save Gwen, I'll leave you guys to live happily ever after or what-the-fuck-ever and go back to what was happening before. Being on my own and worrying only about me."

While she'd been speaking, she seemed to grow more and more agitated, but it wasn't the conversation that was doing it to her. Suddenly, she turned her dark eyes to him and whispered in a harsh voice, "I'm sorry, I just can't fucking take this bullshit anymore. These little bastards are ruining my Starbucks experience!"

Turning from Alex, she stepped forward and turned the woman ahead of them around forcibly by the shoulder. "Hey, lady! If you don't wake the hell up and control your brood, I'm going to do it for you!"

"Excuse me?" the woman asked in obvious defensive irritation.

"You're not excused! You need to round these little shit heads up and quiet them down or get the hell out of here. I doubt the fuckers NEED anything they have on the menu here, at least not anymore than what you've already given them."

The woman snorted and rolled her eyes, already discarding Osono from thought. "You need to mind your own business, alright?"

As she started to turn away from her, Osono gritted her teeth and grabbed her by the shirt, turning her back to face her. "And you need to fucking listen to me before I get fucking serious. I'm not playing around."

"Are you threatening me?"

Ozzie wanted to slap the woman but she held back and gave her a restrained response. "Does the term 'deep fried kidlet' mean anything to you?"

***

When Rudy had said they'd stop at someplace "nice" for lunch, Gwen hadn't thought of the truck stop diner that he ended up pulling into. This particular side of the highway they'd been on was filled with large semis hauling their wares across the country, and they were the majority of the vehicles situated in the parking lot. Since it was around noonish, the truck stop was particularly busy and Rudy had needed to get aggressive while driving to secure them a spot near the side of the establishment. As a result, he hadn't made any friends with his fellow drivers, but just as he'd seemed oblivious to Osono's hatred of him, he whistled happily to himself and ignored the enraged gestures and horns blared in his direction.

Parking near the bathrooms along the side of the long building - which was both a diner and a gas station mini mart combo - he forcibly dragged Gwen into the unisex bathroom, locking the door from the outside before leaving her. Lying helplessly tied and gagged on the dirty floor, Gwen only had to wait a few minutes before he returned with a new shirt he'd bought from the mart. The red one she was wearing and had gotten while with Alex was torn and stained with droplets of blood from a nice little nosebleed Rudy had given her earlier that morning.

At first, Gwen was scared that he was going to dress her - and as a result, touch her while she would be half-naked - but, he took off the bracelets locking her arms around her back and tossed the shirt at her. "Change," he said simply, standing back and keeping an eye on her as she did so. Despite being somewhat shy under his eyes, he seemed completely incapable of seeing her as a sexual object and watched her with the minimal amount of interest and wariness that he'd probably give a man.

Several minutes later, Gwen sat across from him in a booth in the diner, wearing a cotton candy pink shirt that barely fit, with "Flirt" scrawled in glittered lettering across her breasts. Her face was cleaned up and her hair was brushed as much as could be expected, but even without the duct tape on her mouth anymore, there were still vague red lines from where it had been stuck to her face. The bruises on her left eye and right cheek bone were growing black and blue but she no longer drew attention, rather exacting the opposite reaction. It was obvious from the marks that she and Rudy both wore that they were in some sort of trouble and nobody around here wanted to get involved in any way. It would make escaping this time particularly difficult if she couldn't find anyone already willing to engage Rudy.

"So what do you want?" Rudy asked, scrutinizing the menu and idly playing with the salt shaker. "The home fries sound good as a side, and this 'biscuits and bits' thing sounds yummy. I always have such trouble deciding with these things and usually end up getting everything on the menu..." He definitely sounded like he was having a hard time of it and Gwen rolled her eyes at him.

Beyond him, at the front doors within her sights, Gwen watched as some truckers entered and approached the bar that bordered the one side of the room. There were a group of three of them and although one of them was skinnier than the other two, he was particularly tall with broad shoulders, making them all look like a heavy set group. The one that settled on the stool nearest them had the name "Earl" etched into his gold belt buckle that barely kept in his overhanging gut, and a baseball cap for some oil company adorned his head. Glancing in their direction, recognition blossomed in his face as he looked at Rudy, and he tapped the guy sitting next to him to motion at the Agent. Probing his thoughts, Gwen realized, Earl had been one of those that Rudy had cut off while driving into the truck stop, causing Earl and a few other truckers to be locked together in the parking lot for at least 10 minutes straight before anyone could move forward.

"Don't," even with the absent-minded tone in his voice, Gwen jumped when Rudy spoke. He wasn't done looking over the menu, but he glanced up at her warningly. "You promised, remember?" Yeah. Sure. She'd "promised". Was he seriously expecting her to keep her word about anything when he was basically threatening her life?

They stared at each other silently for several minutes before he sighed and set the menu down on the table, lifting his left hand to show it to her. Around his palm was a thin band of technology made of smooth grey metal and even as she looked at it and then him, she silently sent a pulse to the still angered truckers. "You remember my little friend, right? All it takes is one minor movement of my wrist and I'll have it out and firing in half a second. So don't you dare try any--"

As the large, bear-like fist closed around the hand he still held up, obscuring both the band and most of Rudy's hand, his voice cut off and he looked at the thick sausage-like fingers in confusion. He barely had enough time to drag his eyes upward to look at the face owning the fingers before a heavy fist slammed into his nose, breaking it. The next few seconds went by like a blur as Earl hauled Rudy out of his seat and threw him against a table, letting him fall to the ground amidst the napkin divider and condiments.

Blinking anxiously, Quin frantically looked around, blood gushing in a flowing stream down over his lips and searched for Gwen. Her spot in the booth was empty and he cursed under his breath while grinding his teeth, swallowing his heart and yelping as Earl grabbed him again and dragged him up from the floor. In the spot where he'd landed, the phone he'd returned to his pocket was left behind and forgotten as the men took their new punching bag outside to finish 'teaching him a lesson'.

[Tartra]

Osono was lying. Alex could hear it as clear as day, and she must’ve known how flimsy the excuse for keeping Rudy alive was because she offered up a better reason seconds later. That one made more sense to him, certainly more than calling the guy an ‘alarm system’, and it gave him the answer she didn’t seem to want to voice. Maybe it had nothing to do with Quin after all, but the way her words seemed to drop into something real, he got the idea that while she might not have had anything official in mind, there was a will to start a life beyond running from the Agents. She could see a horizon even if she told herself she wasn’t going to reach it. And if that was all she ended up doing, wandering from place to place with no purpose besides keeping busy, it still gave her something. Hell, she seemed happy with the way things were going so far, and with her pretty damn flawless track record of not getting caught – Rudy’s stupidity might’ve been a factor, but she definitely wouldn’t make it easy for anyone – it didn’t seem like things would have to change. She could start a life right now if she wanted. This was her life. She wasn’t chained by anything.

The difference between them was more glaring than she realized. Whether or not she’d done it the minute the Agency had come after her, she’d taken a stand and forced them back. She’d been living a reactive life; there’d been planning shoved in a few places, but it boiled down to ‘melt everyone who looks at me weird’, and that freed her from having to waste her nights scrambling to find new apartments, new places to live, new passports and credit cards and identities...

The first mistake Alex had ever made was trying to stay a step ahead. It hadn’t worked, obviously, or else he wouldn’t have Xander in his head. The second mistake was thinking he could get away. He’d trapped himself in this world by insisting he’d eventually escape and... do what? He wanted his old life back – the one he’d had before he’d gotten anyone’s interest. All those years of town-hopping had wasted what could have been fantastic memories, especially when his personal dragon had thinned out the threat from a daily appearance to four times a year, and that was slowing down, too.

He’d missed out. He resented it. The Agents had been the cause of him putting everything on hold, but they hadn’t been the reason.

But – naturally – before he could get any sort of civil conversation started with her, one he’d wanted out of genuine interest instead of trying to dig out reasons for not hating her, she started up a fight. He wasn’t dumb enough to cut in, but he did roll his eyes at the both of them. Luckily, the pack-leader didn’t seem to notice, and Osono made absolutely sure she had the woman’s attention when she reached out and grabbed her. What a way to set off a reaction.

Child #1, a boy the spitting image of the lady, took one look at the situation, threw his head back and let out a bloodcurdling scream of, “Someone’s killing mommy! Someone’s killing mommy!” This was immediately followed by the rest of the children – probably adopted, stupid shits – standing around Osono and her enemy to excitedly howl – in considerably less distress than the son and with a bit of enjoyment any PTA would’ve blamed on ‘those violent computer games’ – “Mrs. Janet! Mrs. Janet! Someone’s killing Mrs. Janet!”

Way to go, Sparky! He started walking. Well – since they’re clearly too busy to order...

The barista got the famous I Love Starbucks smile and robotically returned it in the way Xander was so crazy for.

“Hi. I’m gonna need two six shot Venti vanilla lattes, two pumps hazelnut, one pump cinnamon dolce with whip and mocha drizzle and two iced Ventis mochas, four pumps gingerbread, light ice, extra whip and nutmeg sprinkles.” The barista hadn’t even blinked. That was okay because androids traditionally didn’t.

You want anything?

“Insulin.”

They’re fresh outta that, he replied, happily paying and skipping over to the pick-up table.

“I’ll be in a minute, too.”

The kids’ screaming was tearing at his ears. He might actually punt one of them across the room soon. The rest of the shop seemed evenly split between trying to get the hell out of there and away from this madness or enjoying the morning show before they dragged themselves to work. Wait – what day was it? Saturday? Maybe? No work today, then. And what the hell? What kind of mother brought a junior soccer team coffee and so early in the morning?

An awesome one.

“Is that what your mother did?”

I wish. The sweetest thing I ate in my house was Cheerios, and not the ones with that stupid bee. The old people kind. Xander turned Alex’s head around and shot over his shoulder, “Hey, you! If you’re busy, I can order something for you.”

“She shouldn’t be causing a scene right now,” he muttered. “This isn’t the place. There aren’t any Agents here.”

Nothing’s on fire.

“But I don’t want to spend an hour getting out of an arrest charge.”

Someone’ll have a seizure long before we reach that point, Xander said. Relax.

‘Relax’.

It hadn’t been too long ago when Xander pointed out he almost always ended his words with a quick ‘relax’ or ‘calm down’ or ‘stop panicking, you dumb bitch’. Alex should’ve listened. Things could’ve been very, very different. A lot of the stuff he’d wanted to do or what Xander had tried to talk him into doing hadn’t happened because he couldn’t get over the sick fear that, in the middle or when he was at his most defenceless moment, he’d be dragged in and killed. He hadn’t trusted himself to hold his own despite everything he went through. Gwen, though... When she’d come along, when he’d finally had someone to compare himself with... She’d be fine. She was tough. But she’d also shown him how much he knew about the Agency and how little he had to worry about after he’d spent so long solving their patterns and cracking their techniques. Running with her had left him feeling oddly in control of his life. For once, he wasn’t the guy flapping in the breeze. He was someone that someone else was turning to for answers, even if half the time she ignored them because Xander gave her a better – or flashier – one instead. It was great. And it’d led to this. Never in his darkest days would he have agreed to working with someone like Osono, no matter what was going on with his foot. He’d actually be in bed right now, cooped up in his latest hideaway minus the slightest desire to go anywhere near an Agency building, but today, he was in phase two of breaking in and stealing back a body.

Three days. This had only been three days. God – it felt like a lifetime. He had a lot of catching up to do.

“This is gonna work,” he said. “We’re getting into Charlton and we’re ending this.”

Ending what?

... Uh...

“You know...”

No.

“... Well... this.” He vaguely waved his hand. “We’re ending this.”

The ‘me in your head’ thing?

That didn’t sound very final. At most, it was one job off his to-do list. So maybe they weren’t ending anything by getting Xander back to where he was supposed to be. Starting, he realized. He’d be starting an entirely new chapter of his life.

“I think when this is done, I’m going to travel,” he said, as drink one was finished and then desperately snatched up.

You hate planes, Xander said, in-between drowning him in coffee. OH MY GOD, this is so good. OH. MMM. SO GOOD.

“Travel –” Glug, glug. “– by train –”

You hate trains. And you hate needles, so that’s bye-bye to Africa and half of Europe. SO GOOD, DAMN YOU. SO FUCKING DELICIOUS. Holy shit – just sit down for a sec. I need to sit down, ‘cause this is TOO DAMN GOOD to waste on standing up.

“I could get over –”

If you talk and spill my coffee, I’m going to rip out your throat. That inhuman snarl was one of the few threats Alex took seriously. SO. GOOD. SO GOOD. I could literally save an orphaned child, buy a puppy, fuck an elf, win the Nobel prize, find a unicorn who farts rainbows and still not approach the level of joy I’m at right now. The first latte was done. The second one slid over and Xander immediately put it down his throat, too. I love Starbucks. I love it. I would gladly kick a million squirrels in the face if it meant I could live here forever.

“Squirrels?”

Yeah – I like squirrels. Not as much as Starbucks, though – hot damn, why the fuck is this so delectable?

“As I was trying to say,” Alex said, working hard to time his words to the gulping, “I can get over the needle thing.”

No you can’t. Shut up. I’m savouring this.

“Maybe... Gwen would want to come...”

It’s been a short enough adventure for her to jump into her old life again. ... Oh. You could ask her. If you offer to pay, I’m sure she’d be into it.

No. Gwen had her life. He hadn’t thought this was going to be over so soon, but when it was, she’d be able to pick up from where she left off. He, on the other hand, would have to look at other options.

“Osono,” Alex called. “Stop fighting and get your drink. We’re on a schedule.”

“No, Sparky – for fuck’s sake, take your time.” I’m gonna need another twenty of these.

So basically, Alex wasn’t going to sleep for the next month.

* * *

This was not a good spot to be in. Whatever starry speck of fairy dust that’d fallen in her eyes was blinding her. She seemed so eager to please now, nothing like the cold-hearted fiend who’d first stormed into his life. He was getting worried. The EDP she’d developed was supposed to have been based around her inability to feel, and here was Eric, stirring up awe and adoration and – ‘Master’? Where had that come from, anyway? Whatever the answer, the A-1 didn’t seem to mind. Jason hadn’t frowned when the man had first said she could join him in watching him bump off Rudy, which was a sick thing to want to watch and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to think about her thanking him for the... opportunity? Anyway, he’d kept it to himself because he didn’t want to talk out of turn. As this kept going, however, and the tiny sparks of life fluttered into her voice, almost deafening next to the icy drone she’d been willing to give to everybody else, he felt his fingers going deeper and deeper into the cushions of the limo, trying to find something to quietly scratch at and failing.

He smartened up when she looked over at him. He didn’t meet her eyes, but he felt them. How much had she screwed in his mind where he felt a little more normal with her staring? Was it catastrophic or only a disaster if he thought he preferred this to her nearly drooling over Eric?

Ugh. His gut was whining. His lead had done the smart thing and had just been sick to get it over with. He shouldn’t be holding it down... And there was Benoit, unnaturally healthy despite out-drinking both of them put together.

“I certainly hope you get your wish,” Frenchie said. The smoke was nearly hiding him. Eric didn’t mind that, either. Jason coughed. “I will do my best to ensure your wait is as short as possible.”

“So – that’s a ‘no’ to the food thing, huh?”

“You were the one who said he wanted to be there early,” Benoit said. “You can find food at the lab. Or possess someone who already ate.”

“What? And give this up?” Eric proudly pounded on his new chest. “No way, Benny. I’m like the Rock meets Schwarzenegger plus two elephants of steroids. What’re they feeding kids these days? Goodness me!”

Benoit ignored him. From underneath his shades, he was probably rolling his eyes, or at least doing the most sophisticated equivalent. He then went on to tell Jason’s lead, “Saying you want to know about Alexander-the-guest is like asking me to ‘sum up’ a library. I can tell you it has books, but that response would be shallow and meaningless compared to the titles and names I would leave out. If that is what you want –” Nobody missed the scorn he was readying for whoever said yes to that. “– then I can explain he was an A-3 on the Alexander case, alongside myself and four others, who succeeded in capturing his target by sabotaging the rest of us. He is conceited, cutthroat and lacks the basic empathy even animals show for one another.”

“In other words, he was one of our top Agents,” Eric said. “Still is, technically, ‘cause he ain’t dead yet. What a badass. Eight years after a half-finished transfer and he’s still breakin’ backs like it’s Christmas.”

“I hold very strong apprehension towards anyone who lets that man ‘steal her heart’.” Benoit puffed in annoyance. “You must mean Alexander-the-host. Please tell me you mean that.”

“Alex is a wuss. Go for the badass, Gwen!” The A-1 grinned. “Stephie, you can tell us which one’s better. You’ve seen Alex. I’ll show you Xander when we get in there.”

“If the body has arrived,” Benoit said. “No report has been submitted to suggest it has been.”

“How d’you know?”

“Unlike you, I keep a grip on Agency technology. I ordered specific lenses for handling this case,” Benoit said. “I don’t know what you did with Jean’s. Congratulations on breaking that as well.”

“Uh – actually –” Not that Jason wanted to stand up for Alexander. “– they broke when Jean was killed. The charge must have melted or disintegrated them.”

Now he was sure Benoit had rolled his eyes.

“That again...”

“Yeah – hey, about that,” Eric said, suddenly all ears. Jason felt an ocean of enchantment get heaved at him. It felt... nice, actually. The worry for his lead was still there, but now he understood it. “Benny says it didn’t happen, you say it did and the old sunglasses Jean was wearing say ‘someone stabbed a pole through both of my eyes’. Did we ever pin a reason to this?”

“I am the sole authority on everything Alexander is capable of – both the host and the guest. Not once in my extensive list of interactions with him has he ever shown any ability to do what this boy says.” Jason must’ve hit a nerve by reporting something new. Benoit finished with a decisive, “Whatever it was that happened, it was done in the same way as the rest.”

Then again, he didn’t know about – or wouldn’t explain – the two month deaths that seemed to follow his old team around. Maybe there were other powers Alexander had that he simply hadn’t found a use for earlier. Or maybe it was the same thing with his target. The seizures had awakened her powers, so why couldn’t her telepathy have awakened some of his or made them stronger?

... That was a horrible thought. It meant next time, Jason wouldn’t survive.

[Guest]

When Eric once again pressed about food, Stephanie cursed herself for making the wrong decision. So he was hungry! Stupid Frenchman! Still, she didn't dedicate too much thought to berating the other Lead for derailing her intent to warm up to the boss - even though she was hungry too and it would have been lovely to share a meal with him as a pre-celebration to everything they were going to accomplish within the next 24-48 hours - at least now, Eric thought that she was dedicated above and beyond bodily needs to Agency work. She left the thought behind with plans to find or make him something once they got to the lab - she could always use the pretext that she'd been hungry herself and that it hadn't been too much trouble to make enough for two... She only worried briefly about whether she would find anything and if it would end up being something he liked. And for some odd reason, that made her glance at Jason - was he hungry too?

When Eric went on to praise the current form he was in, Stephanie was suddenly struck by the humorous description he tacked onto it and laughter bubbled up from her throat as if the joke were funnier than it actually was. But there was nothing put on about the soft rush of giggles, articulating a genuine hilarity at the statements he made. This was the second time on this case that she'd broken into laughter and whereas the first had been a bout of cruel and haughty chuckles resulting from the realization that her target had reached yet another level of development; this was lighter and actually expressing joy for once. Her voice, fluttering up and over the rise and dips of laughter was rich and beautiful and her face lit up for the few seconds that the moment lasted before being chased away by a very un-embarrassed blush.

As Benoit went on to further explain about Xander, ending with the implication that Gwen should have fallen for his original target, she smiled at Eric's energetic cheer for her to have chosen the ex-Agent. "No, that sounds about right," she said nodding her head and thinking for a moment. "I've already explained her daddy issues and how badly most of her adult relationships have gone. Xander may not be the most romantic in an ideal sense, but in this particular situation it's more than just him taking her out to dinner or the movies. It's hard always being forced to be the strong one, especially with desires like hers to share the burden of control in a relationship." Her eyes moved to quickly glance at Jason then, when it occurred to her that the statement also applied to herself.

"But in this unfamiliar and frightening situation, she's looking for guidance and something upon which to ground herself. All he'd have to do is save her life once and the attachment would be formed with him fitting into a "protector" and "daddy" role. Then after that, a little flirting, a few small nice gestures, would indicate a level of 'returned interest' solidifying him as a prospective sexual partner. Not to say she's easy in any way, but the circumstances of being on the run and dealing with new, frightening powers, tends to exaggerate everything to these simplified interactions.

"In fact, I think I know the moment it probably started. In the apartment building, when I fought her, he interrupted and whisked her away, starting this whole crazy thing. She was worn out then and didn't know how to cope with the EDP - I would have had her if he hadn't interfered. Which, by the way, those are some very interesting powers he possesses. Benoit, you basically gave me nothing by which to prepare myself for such an encounter, so I was very surprised when he not only blocked my final blow, but hit me with that mind numbing stare."

Of it's own accord, her hand slithered off her lap to quietly insert itself within Jason's, squeezing him gently in a comforting gesture. "It's not a fun thing to be on the receiving end of," she said with an unperturbed smile, her eyes turning onto her partner. "Right, Jason?"

There wasn't anything hidden within her words - mostly, she was just making idle conversation to keep herself from excited giggling fits while thinking about arriving at the Charlton base - and as she looked at him, her eyes stayed longer than they should have, her gaze drifting down to look at his lips. The hunger drifted back into the emerald glow again, and her smile faded just the tiniest bit to a more thoughtful expression, her gaze fixated on his mouth - she thought she could still detect a small discoloration from when she'd bitten him in Elmira. Stephanie's gaze grew clouded with fantasy, suddenly alone in the car with him, and he with his suit opened down to mid-chest, leaning in close with those gorgeous lips and assaulting her bare neck. With half-hearted and cooed protest, she imagined being pulled close to him and allowing him to lay her down on these plush seats...

Blinking, the vision dissolved and she took in a deep breath through her nose as her eyes cleared and she refocused on him with a blush. God, he was being so sexy right now... even though he wasn't doing anything... Maybe it was the thick smell of leather that was causing her to feel amorous? It did bring back a lot of memories from her training days... Whatever it was did not endure any more indepth scrutiny before she turned back to Eric, her attention focused back on reality with barely a ripple within her psyche.

"So, Master, I have a question about something you said last night," she started, leaving her fingers curled within Jason's on the seat between them and seeming to have forgotten all about it. This time when the odd title passed her lips, she did not notice it, having let it slip out as if it were his name and not realizing she hadn't said "Eric". "I'm not sure if I understood correctly about your abilities - and forgive me, Sir, if I'm being too nosey; you're just a very interesting person." That last was said with a bit of humble concern and then followed up by a coquettish smile.

"But when you... transfer into the corpse of someone with abilities and then they die or you leave them for whatever reason, do you keep their powers? I'm not sure why but I got the impression from the way you described it that you seemed to 'collect' powers? Or am I mistaken?"

***

Ozzie hadn't really had a plan when she'd stepped forward to confront the woman. She just knew she couldn't take it anymore and sought to end it before she started rationalizing more drastic and violent measures to cure the problem - if everyone in line was suddenly ash, then that meant they couldn't order coffee, didn't it? Problem solved.

So, she certainly hadn't possessed enough foresight to predict that touching the "mother" would only exasperate the problem. But it was not like Osono to regret a decision once it'd been made on gut instinct like this had and she glared around at the bright and now very loud faces gathered in a small crowd around her and "Mrs. Janet". At first, a headache started to pulse within her skull and for a few seconds, instead of seeing children she saw a bunch of human sized matches standing around her. Then it hit her as she glared at one of the closer ones, seeing a small light within his eyes that she recognized.

It was not fear but excitement and a desire to play and it reminded her of a time long long ago when she'd had people to look after...

Releasing the women from her grasp, Ozzie turned to face the kids and inserted her fingers between her lips and blew, a sharp and high pitched whistle piercing the air. It cut through the cries and a few of them even cringed and cupped their hands over their ears, before it fell silent and they were left gaping at her.

"You all are a bunch of no good, dirty rotten scoundrels!" she yelled, her raspy voice deepening a few tonal notches and gaining a bit of gruff weight. "Line up against the wall, you filthy bilgerats! NOW, before I fuckin' keelhaul the lot of ya!"

There was no mistaking the threat in her voice and posture but there was also an undercurrent of something playful that they seemed to pick up on and reacted to. Eagerly, as if she were promising a game of some kind, they scrabbled to the nearest wall shoving and pushing one another as they squirmed to line up with their backs against it, a few dancing excitedly in place as she approached with her hands clasped behind her back like a general.

Walking up and down the line of them, turning on her heel, she looked them over once and said in the same tone of voice, "My name is Captain Ozzie van der Wallace, but if any of you turds call me anything other than 'Cap'n', I'll slit your throats from ear to ear and then make you swab the decks in motherfuckin' Hell!" It seemed an exciting prospect to a few of them - or rather her cursing had them giggling for whatever reason. Ozzie stood with a straight back and seemed to flow into the role she'd appropriated for herself, filled with an energy that hadn't been present before but was blended into her with a practiced familiarity. Even the nickname she'd given herself seemed like one she'd used before and was used to saying.

"You have got to be the most sorry-ass excuse for a pirate crew I have ever seen! Hardly deserving of the title 'pirates' at all! Well, lucky for you, I showed up just in time to fuckin' whip your sniveling carcasses into shape before you end up putting a stain on our good name. And I just happen to be in a good mood," she sneered in a very ugly manner at each of them, "that I'd be willing to take time out of my rape and pillaging schedule to learn you guys a few fuckin' manners.

"But first things first, I need to see if you guys even HAVE what it takes to be pirates. When you first board a vessel of potential hostages, do you know what the most important thing is? Intimidation. If normal people aren't scared of you, then you're not fuckin' doin' it right! So every pirate needs a good scowl and a growl to send fear trembling through his enemies and make all the little sissy Navy wimps piss their fuckin' pants when they see us comin'! Come on and give it to me! I wanna hear you scalawags say 'ARGH!'"

Her speech had done the trick to rile them up in her fantasy so when she asked for it, they gave it to her, all of them yelling as one a very loud "Arrrrrrrrrrgggh!"

"Oh, geez..." she complained mockingly. "What are ya trying to do? Ask me to marry ya?" There was a unanimous 'NO' and she winked. "Scare the shit out of me!"

As they tried again, "Mrs. Janet" had inched closer to where Alex was, seeming to recognize that he'd been with Ozzie before all of this started. "I didn't realize she worked with children... Do you know what camp she works for?" She had out a pad of paper and pen ready to take down anything Alex said.

"Very nice!" Osono said with a sandy laugh, obviously pleased with the results they'd given her. "Keep up the good work and practice it! Remember: If you don't see a shit stain down their backsides then--"

"You're not fuckin' doin' it right!" was the echoed response and she laughed again.

Turning to where Alex was, the animation in her face disappeared returning her features to normal before she said, "Are you done? Can we get out of here, please?" Even though she tried to make it seem like she was eager to leave, she couldn't hide the fact that she'd been having just as much fun as the kids had

***

.Landing on the asphalt face first opened the split in Rudy's scalp - that Xander had so lovingly given to him - so when he rolled over to meet his attackers, blood actively drizzled down the side of his face again, coating the impromptu tape he'd used to "stitch" the wound closed. I'm going to fucking kill that cow, he thought just before Earl's booted foot came swinging to catch him under the ribs. Even now, out in the parking lot, curled on his side, he still could not bring himself to admit that taking her restraints off and bringing her to a public place had been a bad idea, rather going for the 'easier' route and blaming the whole incident on Gwen instead.

After everything I've done trying to be a nice guy in this very un-nice situation! Unappreciative skank! And she'd promised! Now I know never to believe her about anything! Oof!

As soon as the first blow had landed in Rudy's face, Gwen had slipped from the booth and ran. Panic fed her limbs as she rushed out the front doors, blindly racing out into the lot and almost getting hit by a car pulling in. She had no clue where she was - it was just an exit outside of a sleepy rural town called Montrose; a place she'd never even heard of - and she had no idea what she was going to do, but just knew that she had to get away. She wasn't going to Charlton with Rudy - she couldn't! And even though she felt bad about getting more people involved in her defense - Earl had a wife and two little girls at home, Jessica and Sarah; all three of them were his 'Ladies' he always said - she knew they were strong enough and angry enough to keep Rudy busy long enough for her to get away. Also, she was somewhat hoping that Rudy wouldn't want to make too much of a scene and kill people in public and broad daylight.

Entering the maze of trucks, casting towering shadows in the morning light, Gwen frantically thought up a plan to hide from Rudy until he gave up or she could find an easy way out of here. Running through the rows, she made it to a spot where she felt far enough and safe enough that she stopped and sat crouched down beside the door of one of the semi-trucks. Panting heavily, she looked in both directions anxiously and tried to catch her breath while trying to find Rudy's foggy signature and making sure he wasn't near her.

"Get back! Stay the fuck away from me!" Rudy shouted, his voice cracking like a pubescent teenager as he wildly swayed on his feet, aiming the Aurora gun at the truckers who'd been assaulting him. Immediately, Earl and the other two took several steps back warily, instantly understanding that the contraption of complex technology knotting around Rudy's hand was a weapon of some kind. There was a wild, enraged look in Rudy's eyes as he pointed the gun at each of the men in turn, trying to keep them all in sight. "What the fuck, man!? What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Earl paused and seemed to think hard for a few brief moments before lamely shrugging and responding. "You...you cut me off..."

In truth, he didn't know why he'd decided to hit the guy over it, even though it had really pissed him off that the rich little snob had acted like he owned the road and could have caused a serious accident. And Rudy could see it in the guy's eyes. Gwen. That bitch. Even after skimming the indepth files Stephanie had hidden away about her and understanding how her powers worked, it still had Rudy cursing silently and biting the inside of his lip in irritation. He should have been able to predict this, but Stephanie's files had also said something about the girl being "nice". Yeah. Right. Nice like a trip to the emergency room.

It was clear that whatever had possessed the truckers to attack him was gone now so he lowered his gun with an exhausted slump of his arm and let out a worn out sigh. A few other patrons stood by the doors to the diner just a few feet away and watched silently, Quin finally noticing them as he was gingerly wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "What the fuck are you looking at?" Quin screamed defensively, causing a few of the more skittish in the crowd to flinch. "Fucking vultures..." There was a very significant nasally tone to his voice now and he glared hatefully at Earl as he grabbed his nose and twisted it back into place with a pained groan.

His beautiful, charming face... He was going to kill her. There was no doubt about it. The psychic had no problem with making attempts on his life, so he would return the favor, zealously and bless the whole fucking world with her absence. Turning to survey his surroundings, he watched for a few moments as cars came and went in and out of the off ramp. Nothing was out there except highway and he could see from here that she wasn't out there walking by the road. She couldn't have gotten a ride from someone this quickly, could she? Finally he decided no, that she probably hadn't, and turned to look at the area behind the rest stop - nothing back there except a rocky ravine that went below the ground level of the property.

By this time, he was alone again, Earl and the other truckers having drifted away back to the restaurant to puzzle over the experience, and Rudy turned with his back to the front of the establishment again. If she were running from there, she'd most likely stay facing this direction rather than risk running into him coming out by turning around. Off to the left was the gas pumps, lined up neatly together and on the right was...the parking lot. At least several dozen semis sat sleeping together in neat rows, fenders, grills and bumpers shining chrome in the sunlight. Smiling to himself through rivers of gore from his nose and thinking about his proficiency for cheating in hide-and-seek in younger years, Rudy proceeded in that direction, holding the Aurora up and ready.

Gwen sensed when everyone drifted back inside but Rudy's thoughts were still hidden from her. She'd felt his pain when he'd gotten up and a burst of satisfaction had filled her then - served him right! She'd also been very relieved when she realized the men she'd made suggestions to were still living enough to go back into the diner, but panic took over as Rudy the shark disappeared under the murky water of thought again, obviously still hunting her. Where was he? Her brunette curls whipped this way and that as she turned her head quickly to peer down both sides of the row she was in, but she couldn't see him. The urge to run filled her bones and she struggled with it for several moments because she didn't want to risk running straight into him. But as the minutes wore on, she became more and more frantic, to the point where she began to silently cry in fear at his eventual approach.

Occasionally, Rudy's pain showed up like a flickering light and she clung to it as much as she could whenever it showed. But it always disappeared without a trace after a few seconds, popping up again several feet away from where it had last shown up. Gwen started to relax a little bit as she followed his trail and it seemed he'd gotten lost and turned around somehow - or maybe he'd given up? - because he was heading in the opposite direction. It was for this reason that she wasn't particularly worried when he disappeared altogether, thinking to herself that he'd probably keep going in that direction and limp away to collect himself in his failure - possibly to crawl back to Mr. A-1 with his tail between his legs to get himself sweetly chewed out again.

However, this did not appear to be the case when he suddenly showed up at one end of the row she was in, his eyes brightening as they laid upon her. The gun was up and he was pointing it at her, and with a small cry, Gwen shot out from her spot down the other end as the beam of light left the nozzle of the gun to disappear into the door of the truck that she'd been crouched against. The metal of the vehicle reacted strangely to the beam and buckled with a screeching moan on impact, blue electric veins crawling along the length of the vehicle to disappear into the nose and the back where the trailer was hitched. Gwen didn't need to be a genius to figure out that if she touched the metal while the beam was still being absorbed, that it would affect her as if she'd been hit by it directly, the metal humming with an almost physical static as she ran alongside the truck.

Shying away from the buzzing metal of the semi, Gwen hunched low and fled around the corner down another row, Rudy following after her from his end, between the vehicles. In the next aisle, Rudy shot at her when she was halfway between the two ends and she flattened herself down to crawl underneath one of them. Apparently, either Rudy didn't know about the way the gun's beam reacted to metal or he was deliberately ignoring the fact for whatever reason, because he rushed after her, flattening himself to shoot under the truck, hitting the wheel instead as she emerged out the other side.

There was nothing going through Gwen's mind except the desire to escape, her heart pounding in her ears and her breathing coming in quick, harsh gasps. Thoughts and plans were abandoned in favor of the primal urge of fight or flight, and right now it was undeniably latched onto the "flight" response.

Rudy appeared again a few aisles down and Gwen once more flattened herself to the ground to crawl under the trailer of the next semi. However Rudy was closer this time, so by the time she was squirming on her stomach under the truck, Rudy had reached her and was reaching under to grab her by the hair and pulling her back out. She let out a loud scream, her fingers clawing at the cracked asphalt and her heart slamming into her ribs with terror.

ALEX!!! she internally wailed, reaching out in feverish panic for his distant signature and making contact that lasted for the few seconds it took for Rudy to pull her completely out and haul her to her feet.

All other cries for help, both verbal and psychic were instantly cut off by Rudy pressing the gun against the underside of her chin, the familiar warmth warning her that it was charged and ready to fire. The both of them were exhausted, panting as they stood, he restraining her and she standing stiffly in his hold, but when his voice came back he smiled hatefully, adopting a biting and sardonic tone.

"That was a lot of fun! No, really, I had a fucking blast through all of that and got a nice workout as well!" he shook his head and laughed weakly. "The Agency is having the semi-annual triathlon in two months; maybe you could help me train!? Oh, waitasecond! You can't because you're gonna DIE TODAY!"

Roughly, he threw her to the ground where she scraped her elbows on the blacktop, looking up at him fearfully as the gun was pointed straight at her. "Please...you can't blame me! You know what she's going to do me!"

"I can't blame you!? Like hell! Look what you did to my FACE!"

While the nozzle of the gun grew brighter, Gwen shielded herself as much as she could with her arms and whimpered. "Rudy...Please..."

At the sound of his name, his eyes widened suddenly and memory came rushing back to him. In his head, he heard the way Eric had said his name, drawing each syllable and letter out painfully, like a tiger purring and batting at a mouse it planned to make it's meal. Shit! What was he doing!? He couldn't kill her - for surely it was his own death sentence if he did. The gun stopped charging but he kept it pointed at her as reality descended once more upon him.

"Fuckit..." he said lamely and rolled his eyes. "Let's just get back to the car."

At the end of the row of semis they were in a man appeared and called out, "Hey, what's going on here? Everything alright?"

Rudy did not say anything but shot the man where he stood causing Gwen to flinch defensively. When he turned back to her, he gave her an impatient look and motioned with the gun for her to get up. "Come on!"

[Tartra]

“‘Keep them’?” Eric seemed surprised. “Only in my wildest fantasies. Once somebody’s dead, everything goes away: thoughts, feelings, memories, basic instincts, reflexes, diseases. One time, I got stuck in a cancer kid, but the tumours died two days after I’d taken over. Couldn’t support them on my magic. Can’t support eyes, either. They’re the first to go and the best I can do are these babies.” He tapped the side of his glasses, then shrugged. “What’s lost is lost – especially powers – but... damn if I haven’t spent years trying to get them back. C’est la vie!” He snorted. “Well, my après vie.”

Benoit scowled.

“So you’ve never had any powers besides the – uh...” What was the nicest name for it? “... dead thing?”

“Hmm? No – I’ve had tons of other abilities. Great ones, like laser eyes and freeze breath and fancy stuff along those lines. That’s the beauty of being so high up: you get first dibs on a target before they toss it to the other Agents. There aren’t a lot of good ones lately, though. It seems like we nearly picked this generation clean. I’d toast to a new wave of awesomosity in their kids, but since we’re not stopping and somebody drank all the wine –” At the sight of Frenchie’s starkly unapologetic face, Eric flicked the A-3 in the ear. “– you’ll just have to feel it in your heart.”

“But how would you do it? If the powers vanish by the time you go in, it doesn’t make sense you’d have anything else,” Jason said.

“I’m not special,” Eric told him. “Well – I am, just not when it comes to this. I do it the same way as anybody: I transfer in.”

“Really?” That seemed like so much effort. Jason had assumed that with him being the level he was, he’d’ve had access to a faster way. “Doesn’t it take a while for you to adjust? The coma – you said its average length was four months. You have to go through that every time?”

“Yeeeeee-up.” The man clicked his teeth. “Sucks, don’t it? And then when I get in there, I have to dance around a hundred assassinations, and if I screw that up, it’s another coma if I want a new one.”

“It barely seems worth it,” Jason said.

“Barely,” Eric agreed, “but I’ve got as much need to do as our org’. They want people to make the jump to ‘drive the hand of progress’, and although my completed transfers aren’t actually recorded – it’d skew the numbers, so I brought it down to a nice one-per-Agent – I’ve led the troubleshooting single-handedly for a decade. It’s why Benny gets another shot at Alex and why dear Miss. March won’t have her head explode when she leaps.”

Which, Jason was sure, every psycho who wanted to kidnap and wear somebody else was grateful for.

“It still seems like a lot to take on if you have a list of names who’d do it for you.”

“Very true, but I’ve got a record of success, which saves us from having to hunt through a hundred candidates to find a guy who lives – and who won’t do it a second time even if he’s ordered. They get attached.” Yes, they did. Jason had been learning that over the past few days. “But don’t feel sorry for me, kids. I’m not doing it for free. You can’t imagine the serendipity I’ve run into. Twenty projects later, and I’m on the verge of revolutionizing everything again.”

The face of the kid in Elmira flashed through his mind.

“Does that include –”

“Ah, ah! A-1s only! At least until I’m happy with it,” Eric said. “But – uh... as a special sneak peek behind the grand ol’ curtain: yes. Very, very yes. My heart’s all a-flutter!”

That was the most Jason was going to get out of that. He had one or two ideas about what it could’ve been. He wasn’t especially interested since Eric had told him not to be, but maybe he’d keep an ear out for news regarding ‘Nathan’. That was his name, right?

“Does your heart really beat? That works again?”

“Oh yeah. That’s the simple, mandatory stuff. Brain cells, too – I don’t worry about it. And you’ll notice I’m breathing.” He proved it by sucking in a balloon of air, deftly avoiding the kind of gag Jason would’ve run into if he’d been beside so much smoke. “Try to imagine, instead of me making a dead guy walk, my great vibrance filling up the absence of that life. I’ll bleed if I’m stabbed. It’s pretty annoying.”

Yeah. ‘Annoying’. That was definitely an accurate description for anyone who didn’t have to worry about a permanent demise.

“That brings up one more thing,” Jason said, slowly growing more intrigued. He decided to not analyze why necromancy piqued his interest more than telepathy. Probably nothing, or maybe a part of him still felt the axe of the two month death over his head. He scratched at the cuff of his suit’s sleeve in response. “What happens if you die and there’s no one to go into?”

“More than once, I have been a raccoon. Dirty things.” Eric pulled a face. “They don’t think the way humans do, so I’m stuck jamming my thought process into some half-retarded rodent who’s picked on by its old friends ‘cause it doesn’t want to dumpster dive. Rabies are fun, though. It’s bubbly, in a sticky sort of way.”

“And what if none of those are lying around?”

“Insects. Haven’t had that misfortune, but it’s the most logical next step.”

“And if nothing –”

“Don’t know. Don’t wanna know.” A hard edge had appeared. Eric’s smile tightened at the corners of his mouth. “And I’d appreciate if you weren’t so keen to find out in my place.”

“Uh... sure.” Jason withdrew. “Sorry. I was – just...”

“Aw – it’s fine. Everyone’s curious,” Eric said. “I simply prefer to keep details close.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yes. That’s... understandable.”

“Good! Then we’ll drop it forever and never mention it again.” With that, he turned to look out the window, and following a moment’s pause, he knocked on the glass his with knuckle, calling their attention to it. “We’re here! The Agency’s picturesque Charlton laboratory-slash-regional base.”

Jason craned his head so he could see. They were somewhere near the centre of the city – considerably smaller than Elmira but larger than Vestal had been – and the sounds of downtown had been growing steadily louder as they moved in. The area had an aging feel. There were as many buildings here as anywhere, he guessed, but a lot of them, from the shops lining the road to the office skyscrapers looming overhead, were made of a deep red brick. The clothing stores looked older too, not only in their making, but also in their wares: gowns and tuxedos and other old-fashioned, high-end inventory pressed against the polished windows, marking a bright spot amongst the drabness of the architecture. It was an odd mix. It was like the city had been made dark on purpose. The stunning four-tier cakes Jason saw in a bakery they passed by was hauntingly lovely because its white flowers stood out from the empty alleys.

The Charlton regional base blended into the skyline, apparently more conservative – dare he say ‘shyer’? – than the Elmira building. It was eight stories tall and largely offices, no different from the other two on either side of it. Jason had to go off of the feeling he got when his eyes landed on its door. There was no other way to tell what it was.

His hands started shaking.

One minute. Half a minute. They’d be inside soon, and then those forms would go through. Jason’s suit... He’d lose it. His breathing picked up. This was coming to an end too fast and his body was beginning to mourn.

“I have word from headquarters,” Frenchie said. “The body of Alexander-the-guest will be here in an hour. They, I expect, should be here by night.”

“You’re sure?”

“As far as I can be,” Benoit replied. “I was tracking the exact path of Alexander before you pulled us off course. At the rate at which he was last seen travelling, I can only assume that deadline.”

“Okay. It’s a positive estimate.” Eric dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I don’t see why I can’t hurry ‘em along, though.”

Benoit perked up at that.

“Who are you calling?”

“My boys. And my girls – I support equal opportunity among the genders,” he said. “So long as they’re being marched to their death, it might as well be on my orders.”

Eric’s orders were bad news for a lot of people. Jason couldn’t breathe. His throat was closing up. He was getting dizzy. The limo was pulling into parking stuffed underground, and the weak... he wouldn’t be able...

“Miss Agent,” he heard Benoit say. “Your pet is fainting.”

‘Fainted’. Past tense. Jason fell over.

* * *

“She’s good,” Alex said, watching Osono whip the hell-monkeys into silence. Sort of. They were still ungodly shrill, but at least there was a sense of order to it. Somehow. He shuffled away from the woman who’d come up to him, however. “Talk to her. Not me. Ever.”

Just because he was trying to inch his way back into society, it didn’t mean he wanted total strangers around him. He felt a little violated that the woman had spoken to him at all.

The iced mochas were ready. Xander started drinking like a meth addict. Caffeine and sugar aside, that level of obsession wasn’t healthy. He was taking the ‘my life depends on coffee and David proved it’ thing too seriously.

Whatever works.

“Well – I hope it does work. That much should be enough of a fix to last you a day,” Alex said. “Let’s get going. Oso–”

Yeah – wait – I just – Alex’s feet were dragging back towards the register. One more. For the road. Was he serious? Just one more!

“What part of ‘Gwen is in danger and we have to shove your idiot ass back into your real body so you can be the superhero you’re always bragging about and save her’ don’t you understand? Coffee, even your precious Starbucks, does not compare to what we’re up against, Xander. You keep saying you’re on our side, so... here it is! This is your time to prove it. So put the fucking coffee down and let’s go.”

... Okay. ... I see your point, Xander said, as slowly as he could manage. I’m simply saying one more coffee wouldn’t hurt. Then, faster, It takes two seconds to make! They’re professionals!

The first latte was drilling fire through his limbs. He was uncomfortably restless right now and the agitation tripled when he realized he wasn’t being allowed to walk away from the counter. Thank goodness for Osono and her little show, otherwise he’d be more than a freak who’d been half-paralyzed; he’d be a freak who’d been half-paralyzed and was the centre of attention.

His heart froze. There was a different voice in his head. It was only for an instant, but he heard it clearly. That was Gwen. Gwen! Panicked and gone instantly after he heard his name, but – alive! What more could he ask for?

What was happening? Why was she sounding so panicked? Rudy must’ve been doing something to her, but how far would he go? If he was as sure of himself as he’d tried to get everyone else to think, he might not have cared what that robot woman of an Agent would think if he hurt her. There wasn’t a lot of meaning he could dig out from only one word, but he hoped the intensity of it didn’t mean it was a last-ditch effort – one before Rudy tore her apart – to call to him. But why now? Was it luck of the draw that she’d gotten through or was she moving in their direction?

“Did that... do you....” He was falling over his words. This caffeine was not helping him. “Did that sound close to you?”

I guess. Can I at least get a dark roast?

A seething boil came over Alex in that instant. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped open, which was great for Xander ‘cause in went half of his mocha in one go.

“No, you cannot get a dark roast! You cannot! I am not giving you permission to get anything – did you even hear her?”

Alex’s jaw clamped shut, but only after it fumbled twice.

You’re being incredibly loud.

He didn’t care!

Yes, I heard what you heard.

Then what the fuck?

Alright, someone’s had too much coffee. “Sparky! You’re driving. I’m too cracked out, apparently.” Finally, his foot moved forward. Six years of me guzzling and you get the shakes from three cups? I’m ashamed of you. “Excuse me, kind sir! What delightful Starbucks masterpiece have you been allowed to purchase this fine morning?”

One of the businessmen, a patron sitting on the side by himself, looked up at Xander with mild confusion and alarm.

“Peppermint –”

“Fuck you.” Xander moved on. Alex kept seething. He couldn’t help it. There was too much... everything in his system right now. Gwen calling your name doesn’t change anything. I knew she was alive, I told you she had time, and – in fact – the only thing her getting in touch with us seems to have done, aside from making her feel better if she realizes she reached us, is sending you into a spazz attack. Everything’s fine. Try to remember that. “Dear lady! Such a pleasant sun greets us this early day. Pray tell, what wonderful beverage have you chosen for yourself?”

This woman was more casually dressed. An amused smile lit up her face at Xander’s words. Airily, she replied, “Vanilla –”

“Still full?”

That one caught her off-guard.

“Yes –”

Seizure. And in the middle of that, Xander took her coffee.

“You can thank that asshole,” he said. Peppermint. I hate him. And you know what? “Hey! Baldie!” The businessman looked over. Another seizure, except more violent. It’d happened so quickly that no one had time to look over before Xander moved to Osono’s side and smoothly guided her by the shoulder towards the door. “Let’s go, please. We’re supposed to be hurrying.”

How did he expect to cover that up? Huh?

She didn’t see anything. Chill out. Drink more coffee.

With an iced mocha in his left hand and a vanilla something in his right, Xander walked out the door, proud that he’d appeased the Starbucks gods and gliding to the Audi without a care in the world.

She better not have seen anything. With the cure for caffeine jitters a simple ‘more caffeine’, he didn’t have the mind to spare on explaining why whatever had happened was an unfortunate coincidence. But he would, if he had to, and he’d make sure she believed it.

[Guest]

She couldn't get enough of this man. Of course, it helped that his personality was incredibly engaging and magnetic, but the sheer depths of his magnificence was in his experience and long standing dedication to the work he did. It wasn't just about the hours he'd sacrificed or the effort he put into it, but also the fact he was good at it and seemed to enjoy his job immensely. It was very interesting to learn that even at his high-rank, there were certain levels to things that he still had to march through, just like everyone else. But even with that, he still went through with it all, paving the way for others and venturing ever further into the future of the Agency. Now, more than ever, she found herself idolizing him.

And Stephanie didn't mind sharing his attention with Jason actually enjoying the fact that she wasn't the only one interested in him. The direction of the conversation took a curious turn however, and she cast an odd look at her partner when he pressed further into Master's relationship with death. The thought of a world where Eric no longer existed made her feel scared and sad, like a wound she could not bear considering having. So when he ended the line of questioning telling Jason to "drop it", she was more than relieved to leave such thoughts and considerations behind. But glancing at her partner, she could see that he wasn't and her gaze narrowed to wonder what was going through that curly head of his.

Her attention was diverted however, when Master indicated out the window and she excitedly peered out as they drove alongside the base. It never ceased to amaze her how the Agency seemed to scout out the perfect locations in which to place their different offices of operations. Elmira had been a bit of an eyesore, but wielded a heavy amount of menace towering over the city from it's perch on the hill. The Charlton base was no different as far as the amount of subtle threat it exuded, except they'd found the perfect place in the city itself to put it.

Remembering why they were here, a beautiful and energetic smile spread across Stephanie's plush lips and her eyes shined excitedly as they passed the large building. Gwen... Again, she lost herself in fantasy while Benoit and Eric talked briefly about..whatever, imagining what it would be like to see her target captured and ready to be strapped down. What would she say to her? What would Gwen say, if anything? She had to have some idea by now what Stephanie wanted her for. Would she beg Stephanie for her life? Would she cry? She knew if it came to that, Stephanie would hold her and comfort her up until the very moment she drilled through little Gwendolyn's skull and shoved herself inside.

She blinked when Benoit addressed her, looking at him fully before realizing what he said followed a moment later by Jason's body falling over into her lap.

"Jason!" her exclamation held the weight of concern as she caught his bulk and kept him from rolling to the floor, her eyes looking over him frantically.

At first, she didn't realize what had happened and for several minutes she sat panicking that he'd suddenly, inexplicably died on her. With his head cushioned in her lap, she quickly undid the notches of his collar all the way down to his collar bone before pressing two fingers against the artery in his neck, not seeming to mind the still visible markings she'd left on him mere hours before. His pulse was going a mile a minute, but she sighed in relief that it was there, especially when she pressed her hand to his chest and felt it rise and fall with his uneven breath. Right. He'd just passed out... because that's what the word 'fainted' meant. Duh.

Still, the concern did not leave her as she stroked the side of his face urgently. "Jason, can you hear me?" she asked him worriedly, searching his features but finding no response.

God, what had she done...? All this time, she'd been so busy worshiping Master and fantasizing about her meeting with Gwen, she'd completely forgotten about what awaited him here. She should have taken the time at the airport to hear what he'd had to say and now she couldn't help regretting that she'd failed him as his supervisor on this case to make sure that he was alright.And now this had happened and she knew, from what he'd said about his relationship with the suit, that things would only get worse for him.

There was also a certain measure of guilt that filled her to remember that this was her fault in the first place. Even though Eric had specifically said that he wasn't going to share any information about Nathan, she hadn't liked the idea that he might have deliberately compromised her case by using the boy to do it in some way. And in the end, all asking him about it had done was to bring further pain to Jason. Master hadn't even known what the hell she'd been talking about.

When the car came to a stop, she finally drew her gaze from her partner and looked to first Benoit and then Eric. Stephanie knew what they probably thought of her at that particular moment, cradling Jason to her as she was, but she found herself more bothered by the fact that him passing out made him look unprofessional.

"It's the suit..." she explained with the hint of defensiveness in her voice. "My partner hasn't taken any of the drugs that are suppose to go with it, so it's just a little hard on him right now since he's going to lose it." God...did that make him sound weak? She didn't want that either.

"Just give him a few minutes to collect himself," she said, firmly, her usual monotone hinting at the emotions she was feeling underneath. "We'll catch up to you promptly, Master." Surreptitiously, the hand that cradled his head ran lightly through his short curls and her breasts hovered above him, practically shielding him with her body.

She wasn't going to let anyone carry him inside. Not only did she not want to move him - especially not into the building which made him freak out at the sight of it - but she also did not want to degrade his dignity even further by having him toted around like an invalid or something. He'd just passed out from an obvious panic attack. It was no big deal and he'd be back on his feet in a matter of minutes and be able to proceed into the base on his own two feet. She hoped.

It was an alien feeling being so protective of him and seeing him so weak and helpless like this. But even though his pain was something she normally delighted in, she could not shake the new desire to help him. She'd seen and felt the passion and strength within him; he'd shown it to her on the plane. Seeing him reduced to this and knowing that he was going to continue to suffer because of her, made her scared that she wouldn't see that side of him again. Even though she'd spent most of this trip playfully tormenting and abusing him...it was no longer her favorite part...

***

He was talking to himself again. And guzzling down coffee as if it were nectar from heaven. Ozzie did smile brightly when he said she could drive though - and she'd make sure to hold him to that, the freaking car hog - but he seemed to be stuck with his hip at the counter for the moment so she sighed and turned back to her newly acquired crew. She wasn't even sure why the pirate thing had occurred to her, except that from her experience, kids of this rowdy and untamed sort tended to like them, and the whole thing was intended to diffuse a bad situation from getting worse.

The little rascals were busy chattering amongst themselves, practicing their pirate growls on each other and sharing their newly learned vocabulary that she'd given them license to use - the sound of a child swearing always made her smile for some odd reason. For the first time in a long time, she felt like things were back to normal for her. But instead of making her feel good, there was a pain in her chest when she realized all the reasons why she couldn't go back to that. And she wanted to leave. Now.

Turning back towards Alex to see if he was ready yet, she froze and stared as he addressed the woman sitting at one of the tables. As she watched, she began to convulse in her chair, slowly sliding to the ground in a frothing mess and Alex...snatched up her coffee. That alone made her think he was somehow responsible for what happened, in addition to the fact that there was a connection to his close proximity and the timing of it. But still...she didn't know how to fucking react to that.

Glancing around she checked to see if anyone else had seen what she had and a few seconds later, he was there with his arm around her, ushering her towards the door. Ozzie didn't say anything to him but when they got to the doors she glanced back and saw that there was a man who'd suffered the same fate. What the fuck was that? What had he done?

Back at the Audi, Osono gave Alex a wide berth and looked at him with a narrowed gaze, trying to piece together the strange event. Slipping into the driver's seat, she was pulling away from the Starbucks and looking back before the gravity of what had happened started to take hold.

"Do you mind telling me what the fuck that was back there?" she asked in her raspy voice, pausing for a few minutes to take a turn, looking into the rearview mirror to continue looking at the establishment for a few moments more. "Did you... I mean that lady... she was having a fit or something... and you just...took her coffee... What is going on? Is it epilepsy day at Starbucks or did you do something to those people?"

[Tartra]

“A few minutes, then,” Eric said. He was digging in his coat pocket. “Here –” A box. Small, white, half the size of an envelope, tossed onto the seat beside Miss March. It wasn’t hard to guess what was inside. “It’s a snack for when he wakes up. It’s noble he took the ‘just say no’ path to suit-dom, but if he gets too out of control, it’s best to stick it in his neck and wean him off later. Agency rehab’s great! So I hear.”

Wait for it...

“Come on, Benny!”

Fuck.

He didn’t argue. He got out of his seat and followed, already ill from the thought of being trapped with him in here. He’d want to chat and Benoit would have to listen to him ramble for hours because he was the A-1 and Benoit was the A-3 and the minute they walked by some shadowy corner, someone’s throat would be slit and purple fog would be everywhere and then they’d see what happened when there were no corpses for Eric to dive into. Or something like that.

“We will be on the ground floor,” Benoit said. “Do not waste time in here.”

Eric was waiting for him to catch up. The look on his face was one that’d decided to blather the whole way up to the lobby. Benoit bit down on his cigarette in severe dissatisfaction. Eric didn’t notice, or else he didn’t care. He seemed more focused now. His smile was reserved and thoughtful. Something was up or would be.

“So.”

That one noise set Benoit on his edge, especially when the man didn’t bother to follow it up. He tried to let it die by ignoring it, waiting for it to drown in the sound of their footsteps as they walked to the far side of the underground lot, but by the time they’d reached the elevator, Eric’s unusually relaxed posture had driven him thoroughly mad. Obligingly, reluctantly and still clinging to the calm before the storm of A-1 words, Benoit returned with a sullen and humourless, “So.”

“About Xander...”

The sharpness in his jaw crushed the cigarette in two. Without a pause along its fall to the ground, Benoit’s hands had another out and lit. There was his answer. It ended the conversation. Unfortunately, that silence continued to fester. He gave up.

“What about him?”

“Nothing. So – this is a nice place,” Eric said. “Nice and... orange.”

Yes, very orange.

“You bring him up and you deny it. Talk,” he told him. “What are you trying to do?”

Eric was quiet again, but now it was in favour of entering his code. He was the only person in the whole of the Agency who had that instead of using the hand scanners, but the reasons for it were fairly obvious. What surprised Benoit was that the option to enter the code was available here at such an off-site base. A-1s were welcome everywhere, it seemed. He politely turned his head away to let him finish typing, but snapped it back the moment the elevator opened.

“After you, good sir,” Eric said.

Benoit got on, but he stayed ready to run until Eric was on as well. Who knew what he’d done to this machine? And aside from the scanner, there was no security around it. They were alone. Completely alone. If Eric fell out with his neck broken, other than that he’d been in here with him, no one would have any reason to suspect Benoit of foul play. ‘Justified response’, he called it, but the Agency sided with whoever was the higher rank.

“So.” His silence didn’t have the same effect. Eric couldn’t care about anything that wasn’t himself. Benoit’s voice became more forceful. “What about him?”

“No – it’s – just...” The man shrugged. “He’s killed a lot of your guys.”

“Yes, he has. Why is that suddenly important?”

“It’s always been important. He’s dangerous. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t hate me for taking Jean’s body.”

Eric meant that his hate wouldn’t have directly stemmed from the haunting of a long-time colleague. Benoit was rather assured that he would’ve found something else to loathe him for.

“That’s true. That is why I intend to be rid of him once he is removed from Alexander-the-host.”

He’d let the bastard drown in his stasis cell. The kill switch at its base was too clean and swift a dealing. Benoit wanted him to suffer for every last member of his team that had fallen to the traitor’s hands – at the power of the eyes he’d stolen through cheating. What sort of a person deserved such strength after that? At least what Eric had done, while cruel and unsacred, had been the act of an ability honestly obtained. The A-1 had no respect for what he used his powers on, but what was worse was a fool who didn’t care how he got them. Benoit could not forgive that.

“I see.” He was in even deeper thought than before. Then, at the chime of the elevator as they reached the lobby, his face exploded back into the sunshine he’d been waving around since he’d arrived. “Orange! Orange everywhere! Nice theme they’ve got goin’.”

Theme? Someone had been lazy. For all the might of the Agency, they didn’t seem to make it when it came to changing lightbulbs. His lenses clicked in with night vision. The elevator had opened to a tiled floor. It would’ve been white and the walls would’ve been beige, but the orange had spread and dulled everything. The rest of the floor, away from where they stood, had no light at all. Some sun trickled in through the front windows but it wasn’t enough to reach the full space. The dark wood of the desks tucked away at the reception were painted black by the shade, and the plants brought in to invite a sense of life seemed dead as they folded into mere silhouettes. The stairs had a small glow, however. Tiny lights – orange as well – had been embedded into the handrails. Eric wouldn’t need those. Vampires could see in the dark.

He wondered if a gun would be too ham-fisted. As little as he liked the other, he wouldn’t enjoy killing him with such a childish tool. No, Benoit could think of something better. He had time. For now, he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

“I told her we would wait on this floor,” he said. Eric immediately turned to lean against the wall, dropping so heavily against it that it shook. “Is that all you wanted? To remind me of how badly I want him dead?”

He was laughing and he wasn’t hiding it. Eric was out to piss him off.

“You know someone named Madeline Bergmann?”

No. But the Agency did. At the name, his lenses went to work digging through Agent profiles. It took seconds to find her. A-2, German born, black ha- ah, shit.

“Yes. I know the name.”

Eric laughed louder.

“I’m guessing you’ve met her too, otherwise you wouldn’t be so traumatized. Don’t worry. You’ve got nothing to be afraid of.”

“The last time I was in a room with Miss. Bergmann was eleven years ago,” Benoit said. “I left that room with a broken arm, broken rib and broken jaw.”

“That was you?” He laughed the loudest yet. “Damn, Benny! This’ll be easier’n I thought!”

Benoit blew out through his nose. Trying to stay calm, he slowly asked, “What will be easier than you thought?”

“I’m gonna need you to fuck her.”

Immediately, the cigarette flew down his throat, still lit and pleasantly scalding his tongue. He let out a wild hack, more from what this fucking psychopath had said than the fact that he was choking, only to be dearly saved by a massive crack on his spine as Eric slapped him back to life. Without waiting to get a breath, Benoit spat a hurried, “What?”

“My infallible sources tell me she’s in charge of this place now. You know A-2s get a building to lord over. Well, this is hers,” Eric babbled. “She’s back from Germany to run it and – let me assure you – she is doing one hell of a job. This placed used to be completely off the map before she showed up. It took her two weeks to get it working like it’s run on slaves. It’s incredible.”

“What – I – did you –”

“So I need you to fuck her, ‘cause I can’t kill her. Apparently, that’d be bad for business. It took so damn long to get that bitch out’f her ice cave to ‘save the precious Charlton base’ that the founder issued an express warning to anyone looking to interfere with her living. It’s kind’f gotten to her head. I can’t stand how smug she is about it. Right to my face – just total disrespect.”

“Did you actually ask me –”

“Told you and yes. You mind?”

Was that a serious question?!

“I don’t know her!”

“Get to know her.”

“She hates me!”

“Ah! That’s where you’re wrong!” Eric tented his fingers and smiled. His teeth glimmered under the light like they were made of fire. Fitting, because Benoit felt the heat of Hell rise from around him. “Turns out ol’ Maddy’s got a thing for Paris...”

“I am not from Paris,” Benoit snarled.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that. Canada’s not even a country in Germany’s eyes! There’s – like... a little blank spot if you check out one of their maps. So! As of two seconds ago, you’re from Paris, and that’s probably what she thought the first time, ‘cause even though she went on her assault sprees, the only bones she’s broken have been French bones. They’re love bites!”

That, Benoit believed.

“Agency women are insane,” he muttered.

“They’re not all nuts. Take a look at Stephie!”

“She is leading the crazy parade. I’m not doing this,” Benoit cried. “And you’re sick for even asking! Since when are you a pimp?”

“I would be a fantastic pimp. Can you imagine the money I’d make off you? You and Jason – you’d be my headliners. Cash cows! Or – wait – what’s the French word for ‘cow’? Or the German word, I guess. Hey – do you speak German? That might come in handy.”

“Eric –”

“I’ll be straight with you, Benny. You need to sleep with her as much as I need you to. More, probably, ‘cause I just want you to distract her so I don’t accidentally tear her head off. Literally! With Jean’s hands, I could push her skull in with my pinkie. You, on the other hand, are running with someone she doesn’t like.”

“Someone who forced himself upon us,” Benoit clarified. “I only have to explain –”

“German. I don’t know a lot about ‘em but she’s a walking cliché. You’re working with me, you’re on my side, and that makes you the enemy. Aside from hanging me –” That could work. “– you’re gonna have a lot of ass to kiss if you don’t want her screwing up your plan. Hence the sex.”

Benoit’s eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean ‘screw up my plan’? The plan to trap Alexander?”

“That’s the one!”

“I have her signed agreement permitting us to use this building for our purposes,” Benoit said. “It is not something she can turn her back on.”

“You’d think it wouldn’t be, but she can flip a word around and stab you on the other side in under a minute. You might not’ve realized through the affectionate limb shattering, but she’s smart. If she wants to get you, she will, and with something this delicate, it won’t take much to ruin it.” Eric shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she sets her guards on you. She really, really hates me.”

Not one time had this man brought anything of value to Benoit’s work. He’d taken Jean, stolen them away from the path he’d been tracking – who knew where Alexander was? – and now he sought to ruin them again simply by dragging them into a feud they had nothing to do with. He almost told the man to leave and let them sort this out alone, but if Madeline was as vengeful Eric suggested, the fact that he’d used his code to get in would not go unnoticed. Why, out of everyone the A-1 had charmed, was the only person who hadn’t fallen for it was the one who could destroy his trap before it sprang?

“How much of nuisance can we expect her to be?”

“She can turn the truck carrying the stasis cell around claiming she doesn’t have the security to protect it. She can sabotage a form to say permission – or the right kind of permission – wasn’t granted. She could hit the kill switch on Xander’s body and eliminate the need for him to try to transfer back in – and considering that was gonna be your time to strike, I’d say it’s a crucial moment to protect.” Eric smiled, but it had the hint of a wince to it. Maybe he was being serious after all. “You don’t have to sleep with her –”

“I was not about to.”

“– but you will have to play nice. Y’know. For everyone’s sake. Mostly yours, though. If Rudy gets here before Alex does, that means Steph’ll be gone with Gwen to Elmira, but his call came from a back road. I’m not expecting him anytime before evening and an empath has to be a handful.”

“I would like to give you an accurate time for Alexander’s arrival, but you robbed me of my ability to do so with your plane.” Benoit curled his lip. “Among other things.”

“That’s why I called my boys. I sent them out to check in on him. They’ll report back with a confirmed visual. If you want, I could go a step further and damn near lead ‘im here. What does he need to find this place? Directions? Codes? We can give him that,” Eric said. “Anything to make this work.”

He thought about it. Not that – that was deplorable, but he went over what Eric was saying. He still had the bruises from those many years ago and his jaw still stuck from those fateful hours. Madeline was certainly a hard person to get along with, but if she had the protection of the founder, then an A-1 couldn’t scare her like the rest of them. Or he could, but it wouldn’t be a quick ‘shut up and do what I say’. It’d be a violent, bloody outburst and the security that’d be pulled would take ages to shoo away. By that time, Alexander could be gone. He couldn’t take that risk.

“I’m not sleeping with her.”

“But you’ll get close, right? Make sure she’s out of our hair?”

‘Our’. Like they were a team. Well, they were operating on a mutual benefit now. Benoit could kill him later, when he proved he wasn’t out to help them.

“I don’t know. I have to size her up before I decide anything,” he finally answered. “She might not even be like you said.”

Eric smirked brightly and straightened up against the wall, alert and observant. With a nod of his head and a point of his finger towards the darkness, he said lightly, “Here’s your chance. See for yourself.”

He heard heels on the tiles behind him. If it was her, she wasn’t alone. Why bring guards unless she was expecting a fight? Eric had the same thought on his face. With that, he believed him. The man would gladly lie about liking someone he didn’t, but he would never deny an enemy. Cautiously, Benoit turned around. Five of them stopped just outside the lights around the elevator.

Skinny as a stick. Black hair straight as a whip, sliced high before they hit her shoulders. The way she stood and the way she scowled brought back a million memories. His arm ached again. So did his rib and jaw.

“Hi, Maddy-waddy,” Eric sang.

“Miss. Bergmann –”

“KILL THEM.”

That piercing shriek... Yes, he remembered that, too.

“Well, Benny? Four guys.” Eric pat him on the shoulder. “Have at it!”

Every last one: insane. And speaking of which, where in hell was Miss. March?

* * *

It was over. Everything was over. He was shaking and sweating and hurting from the smallest thing, like the blood moving through his veins and the sudden suffocation he felt from his skin. His skin, not the suit, because now that was separate. He was on his own because he’d failed for the first time in his life. One mistake – one small miscalculation – and that’d set off a chain that’d wrapped around his throat. He could hear it clattering around him, weighing him down and pulling him to his grave. He’d be better off there. Misplacing his goggles was one thing, but losing the suit entirely was... inevitable.

Inevitable. It was inevitable. And now that word was in his head. What did he expect? Everyone saw it. His lead saw it, Frenchie saw it, the fucking Flunky saw it. Hell – his target had seen it and she’d probably been guessing to screw with his mind! Or else he was lying to himself and it simply was that easy to see. Eric hadn’t been breaking new ground when he’d handed over the demotion forms. The only part that was new was him been in the proper spot to act on his disapproval right away.

Here he was, poor Jason, moping about shit he couldn’t change. Had he fainted? That was pathetic. He should wake up and try to salvage what he could. Or he could stay here and die. That was an option. He was comfy where he was anyway. And warm. And kind of...

He opened his eyes. His lids were like razors against them. A massive shudder of pain went through his chest and he coughed, making it worse. The angle he was on had his head crooked, but it didn’t make sense. His vision blurred and his head swam, but he puzzled out one fact: he was lying down. He must’ve fallen over when he’d fainted. Terrific. And unless he’d come up with the kind of blindness that meant he couldn’t see people, only seats, Eric and Benoit were gone. They’d left him here. More importantly, they’d seen him like this and walked away. Wherever his lead went – probably after them because she to be up there to meet Quin, apparently better at Jason’s job by accident than Jason was after years of training – meant she’d gone back to being productive. He’d find her eventually. If she wasn’t going to sign him away so she could mess with him, he was bound to her until she’d had her fill or this was over.

Warm. That wasn’t the seat. He was lying on something.

His body went rigid. Please, please, please tell him what was happening was not what was in his head. Very slowly, hopelessly weak, Jason nudged his head to find a pair of legs.

Yup. Someone kill him now.

“Uh... I’m... on your lap...”

Very good, Jason. Next he’d say the sky was blue. Then again, considering his track record, the sky would’ve been green the entire time. Alright. How was he gonna play this? Shit. He couldn’t move yet. This was not a good place to be.

“Sorry.” Sounded bad. “Sorry – for... everything, basically.” But it really had started with Gary’s mistake. “This should’ve been over two days ago, but at least it’ll be done today.”

Sit up, Jason. Stop lying there like a moron. On top of his boss – holy fuck, how many ways could he destroy himself? Not that’d she turned out to be overly fond of personal space, although that stewardess would’ve said otherwise, but this was crossing a line he didn’t want to go over. He sat up awkwardly, but by himself because he wasn’t throwing one more flaw at her.

“Where did – uh... them... they...” His collar was open. Dammit, dammit, dammit – his neck! Had they seen his neck? Did they say something? “How long’ve...”

Forget it. No more talking. He shook his head and dragged his hand over his face. If Eric and Benoit saw, then fine. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been laughing at something much worse – which hadn’t happened because he was trying to be a damn professional. But it’d almost happened. Maybe. Something had gone on there and it was freaking him the fuck out.

Jason needed a very large amount of alcohol. Instead, his eyes landed on a small white box on the seat. Hers again? Had she asked for more? That wasn’t atropytamine. That was... suit... stuff...

“Where did that come from?” Like he needed to ask. It’d come from Eric – who else? “Why is that here?”

What the fuck did they expect him to do with it?

* * *

‘She didn’t see anything, Alex’. ‘Chill out, Alex, and drink more coffee’. ‘One more coffee wouldn’t hurt, Alex, ‘cause it only takes seconds to make’.

Alex would’ve liked to have followed through on the promise he’d made to himself to convince her nothing had happened, but it was then that Xander’s coffee started going into overdrive. He nearly dropped the mocha in his hands but that would’ve gotten the inferno of a latte thrown in his face as vengeance. He lasted until he made it to the car, ignoring her for now. For the moment, his priority was to get the coffee secure so he’d be safe, then he could spazz the hell out.

Awwwwwww, yeaaaaaaah. I’m lovin’ this.

A caffeine high was really a high for him. Well, Alex was delighted Xander was enjoying himself. If he could come back to reality for a moment and think of an excuse, he’d be very much obliged.

“I don’t get how you’re suddenly relaxed. My teeth are chattering.”

You’ve just gotta feel it. You just gotta take it in. Starbucks... It’s so... Starbucks.

... Brilliant. He had to open the door now though, which was hard if his hand was trembling too much to reach the handle.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

Xander did it for him, then went back to rolling around in his post-Starbucks ecstasy. He’d be like that for five minutes and then he’d get pissy again. It was why Alex preferred places like Roasters, which never brought on that delirium, and it was also why he’d always order one more cup than he could drink; after the initial rush wore off, it helped to have something to keep him from crashing completely. Of course, it destroyed any hope of Alex living to a ripe, old age. This guy was very hazardous to his health. He couldn’t help but wonder if Xander’d left his real body ‘cause he’d smashed that one up from an overdose.

Wouldn’t be surprised. Beta-testing their stupid suits had me hopped up on a lot of shit – damn, that’s a good latte! And to think, I used to avoid coffee like the plague.

That was a terrible thing to say. Alex had had coffee since he was sixteen. If Xander’s obsession only started after he’d taken a sip from one of Alex’s cups... Well – there was David’s theory too, about the energy boost, but every bit about that kid struck him as suspicious.

“Xander...” Now that he was in the car, he was back to muttering softly. “She wants an answer.”

So give her one.

“I would, but our methods of dealing with problems seem to be wildly conflicting.” Xander told him to keep the voices in his head a secret, and yet he had no problem busting out a conversation in the middle of the street. Xander told him never to use his powers where other people could see, but for the sake of coffee, apparently there was a loophole Alex hadn’t heard about. No thank you. Xander had dragged this up, Xander could bury it. Five minutes? He’d wait. “Osono – can you start driving?”

The first address wasn’t far away. Thankfully, the Starbucks franchise had twenty locations on the way, so they’d been fortunate enough to have been spared a day’s trip starting this side quest to get the information they needed. The full time they were on the road, Alex was shivering. Too much caffeine, too much caffeine... Would he die from this?

Nawwww.

That, ladies and gentlemen, was the voice of inspired confidence.

Two more minutes and I’ll be back to solving your problems. Keep her busy until then.

He could do that.

“So.. uh... Osono. You didn’t get any coffee back there. From what I remember, you were in line with us at Elmira. In front of us, actually. We saw you walk out. Just... weren’t in the mood for it today?”

Don’t let her take mine. She’ll find out pretty fucking fast what I can do if she takes mine.

“What I can do,” Alex murmured.

Sure. Minute thirty. Drive ‘til then.

[Guest]

Stephanie blinked as the small box was tossed beside her on the seat, looking at it as if she didn't know what it was for a few minutes. She heard what Master said about the drugs and on a certain level which required her to be logical and professional about this - it seemed like such a distant feeling now - she understood and knew he was right. But she could not help but feel reluctant to even consider it an option. Not only had it been Jason's expressed wish to not use them, but...she wondered what they would end up doing to him.

Stephanie had done her own experimentation with Agency drugs before and even her most recent use of them allowed her some knowledge of the different things the Agency had their hands on as far as chemicals went. And she hadn't done her research on Jason's suit, merely awed by the efficiency of his record so she hadn't known about the drugs until Benoit and Jean had brought it up.

Even before Benoit left, telling her where to meet them, she knew she'd already decided that she wasn't going to be giving Jason anything. She wanted him back to normal, but without any knowledge of what she was working with...and the fact that the drugs themselves would force him to go through a measure of withdrawal... it didn't seem like it made sense to substitute one addiction for another.

She was gravely rethinking this point, however when Jason began to rouse and his body trembled painfully across her lap. What had she done? Maybe it would be better for him to take the drugs? If it would stop his suffering now, then she was all for it. She didn't like seeing him this way, weak as a kitten, and he still had the suit on - which she didn't want to think about what it'd be like for him after he was forced to finally take it off. It made her feel even more guilty, running her hand through sweaty and clumped dark hair and she just wanted to take whatever he was feeling and make it go away.

Then he was talking and she almost laughed at the obvious statement, some of her relief coming back that he was alright enough to speak. And then he was apologizing to her - what for? She'd done this to him and everything had been her fault from the beginning. She'd been very selfish as far as guarding the secrets of her case and if she'd taken the time to be more personal with her team, information wouldn't have gotten lost and there wouldn't have been all this confusion. Maybe she was taking more than her fair share of the burden - maybe her sympathy for Jason was the cause of her feeling overly guilty - but her lapse of judgment that had allowed this to happen to him made her question and doubt everything else that had happened, all the decisions she'd been making.

And then he was asking about that. Glancing at the small box beside her, she picked it up and held it in her lap, looking it over thoughtfully. It would probably be best to answer the easy stuff first. "Benoit and Master are inside waiting for us. They haven't been gone for too long. And there's no need for you to apologize for anything, Jason. I didn't understand what happened with Nathan back in Elmira - I still don't - but I believe that you wouldn't just let them go without a reason... So, really, this whole thing is my fault."

She ran a gentle fingertip along one edge of the box silently for a moment, just looking the small carton over. "All I ever do is hurt you. If you understood... if you knew how beautiful your pain was, you wouldn't blame me... But now I see that it wasn't really what I wanted."

Finally she looked up at him, her green eyes regarding him calmly, but the color vibrant as ever. Holding up the box in two fingers in front of herself she said, "Master gave this to me to help you, but since I haven't been making the safest decisions when it comes to your well-being, I want to leave the choice up to you. Whatever you need me to do... However I can help you through this so that you don't fall apart on me before this is done...I'll do it. If you want to take them or feel you need them, I'll give them to you... but I can't bring myself to force you if it's something you don't want."

All through this, she'd been wearing her mask, flimsy as it was, emotion coming through her monotone and slipping through the cracks in her features. Suddenly, as she fell silent and held the small box out for him to take it, she was suddenly overwhelmed by it all and her face broke enough for her to pout sorrowfully at him. "I didn't sign the resignation because I wanted you to be there...with me when I finish this... Just tell me what you want me to do..."

She didn't know why she was crying again, but she hated feeling this way. Stephanie was on the verge of getting everything she wanted and she was not happy...

***

Alright, she was fine with him continuing to mutter to himself - so long as he eventually answered her, and she fully expected him to, it didn't matter what he did. And she was more than fine to start driving to where ever the hell they were going first. She really didn't want to stay in the Starbucks parking lot any longer than she had to, especially not if anyone had been watching what she'd been watching - which was unlikely because of her being the center of attention at the time.

But what Ozzie was not okay with was the bullshit he pulled a few minutes later: he changed the subject. And no, she didn't fucking remember seeing his crazy ass in Elmira. Already driving away from Starbucks, Ozzie abruptly stamped on the breaks coming to a halt in the middle of the street and glared at him, not caring about the cars that she forced to stop behind her.

"HEY! I'm fucking talking to you, asshole!" she yelled at him angrily, ignoring the honking horns behind them for now. "And I would appreciate you not treating me like a fucking two-year old when I ask you a fucking question! Just be straight with me, Alex: do you have powers or not? It's a really simple question and it's not a big deal - I just don't want you to freaking jerk me around as if I didn't just see you electrocute two people while stealing coffee from them - what? Did you run out of money? Were they Agents or something? I don't give a fuck why, I just wanted to know what happened. It's not something you need to talk over with your imaginary friend about.

"And who the fuck do you keep talking to by yourself? Is it Gwen? Has she been in contact with you this whole time? Is that how you know where to go to find her?" The guy behind her leaned on his horn heavily and finally Ozzie dropped out of her feverish rant long enough to flip him off so he could see it out the back window. Then she took several breaths to calm down and started driving again, shaking her head and silently steaming.

"And yes, I wanted fucking coffee, jerkwad!" she finally said, smacking the steering wheel. "Otherwise I wouldn't have been standing in the freaking line with you, now would I? No! Actually, I just wanted to smell roasting beans and babysit a bunch of snot-nosed bastards because I've got all the time in the world to just piss away!"

***

He wasn't going to stop for anything. No matter what, he was not going to pull this car over for anything. He was just going to haul ass straight to Charlton and drop this crazy broad off and wash his hands of this whole horrible nightmare. Rudy's stomach blurbed angrily at him, hollow from his missed lunch and knowing that to avoid any other mishaps, he wasn't going to stop for dinner. Already, he'd been delayed enough that he wasn't going to make it to Charlton until nightfall and he cursed himself for the mistakes he'd made.

Well, the only mistake he'd made, in his eyes was trusting the bitch; the rest of it was HER fault and he was just an innocent victim. At that thought, he cringed and sniffled at the pain in his face, the sticky blood repainting the left side now drying, in addition to the bitterness that still seeped from his broken nose. God, he fucking hated her and he'd been so close to killing her back there. The thought made him excited to stick the gun in her face again and finish the job, while at the same time nausea hit him to think of Mr. Patten's reaction when he showed up with a corpse. Rudy might as well take the gun to his own head right after if he decided to do that.

Snorting long and heavily, Rudy abruptly turned his head out the window to hock and spit a congealed mass of gunk that had been forming a knot in his throat and wiped his chin on the back of his hand before turning to glare at her. Gwen sat in the front passenger seat, bound hand and foot but ungagged, worn and torn but better than she had been before they'd stopped. She felt him look at her but she didn't return it, staring ahead and trying once again to reach out to Alex. She'd felt something back there... She'd touched him, she knew she did. She wasn't exactly sure the reason yet because he had not shown up on her radar as being anywhere close, so she was assuming for now that contact had been made under duress. Now...she just had to concentrate and recreate it without the panic.

On a side note, she felt absolutely no remorse for what had happened to Rudy, but was now even more hesitant than before to use her powers anymore on this trip. She was definitely starting to get the hang of it and understood that the suggestions she put into people's heads were not her controlling them but digging out already present wishes and hopes from deep inside them. That was why it generally worked better when she latched onto people who were already willing to hurt Rudy. And the actual mechanics of it were easy enough, inserting herself deep enough inside that they didn't recognize her implanted thoughts as not their own.

But there was an even bigger price to her enlisting the help of random people, other than the fact that it put their lives at risk. The effect the constant abuse was having on Rudy was making him even less stable than he'd been to begin with and it was no joke: he really did hate her. The only thing that kept him from killing her was some blind attachment to his job and a tenuous fear of his boss. Compared to the very real and growing rage he had for Gwen, it was becoming an even flimsier thread than it had started out as. She wasn't sure how much more abuse he could take from her without finally cracking and deciding in the spur of the moment that it would be better to suffer the A-1's wrath rather than to continue to deal with her.

Which was why she was trying to contact Alex again. Running from Rudy had completely worn her out physically and now she was back in the restraints which made her physically incapable of going anywhere. Instead of hoping that he'd be stupid enough to take them off a second time, the best she could hope for now was that Alex was still going to Charlton and that he'd meet her there and hopefully...be able to do something before it was too late.

So far, however, the more she sat trying to reach out to him, the more helpless and hopeless she began to feel. At first, she tried to concentrate on him, thinking deeply of his mental signature and trying to feel it. But she was soon frustrated by this when she couldn't focus on a location for him. Then she tried latching onto the feeling of the connection she'd had but that too seemed a wasted effort. Like when she'd first tried to talk to Alex psychically, it didn't matter how focused she was, her voice just echoed back at her inside her own head, making her feel even more alone.

"Shit..." Rudy murmured under his breath, causing Gwen to shake loose from the trance she'd been in. Looking up she saw that Rudy was being followed by a police cruiser and was forced to slow down on the side of the road.

Reaching out curiously, Gwen was able to discover that the man who'd owned the diner back there near Montrose had called the police. The cop currently pulling them over had not been specifically called but was a Trooper watching for speeders on the side of the road and had heard the call and description on his radio.

Rudy's hand whipped out to grab her by the hair at her neck and pulled her close to whisper hatefully in her ear. "Haven't learned your lesson? Making another attempt? I swear to fucking God, if you don't stop this shit right now--!"

"It wasn't me!" Gwen gasped hoarsely, her heart beating fast in her throat. "Y-your car fits the profile of the guy who was seen waving a gun around back at the diner!" The police officer hadn't left his car yet but was busy calling it in and waiting for orders on how to proceed. "And...I think some people might have seen you put me in the car..."

"...Oh." He glanced into the rearview but did not let go of her. "Make him go away or I'll kill him." It was obvious from the threat itself that Rudy didn't want to do that for some reason, probably because of the attention and obvious trail of bodies he was leaving.

Gwen didn't want the police officer to die either and her thoughts kept running through how to best proceed. From the way Rudy was cirrently holding onto her however, she knew that "snapping thread" was a very real possibility if she didn't try and dissolve the situation. Probing into the officer's mind, she saw that he was a good man albeit a little arrogant with a tendency to push his weight around on the highway - when he wasn't busy taking naps, that is. But as soon as he'd gotten the call about the "black Lincoln" and a beat up guy who was seen with a weapon at the truckers stop, and then seen the vehicle pass by a few seconds later, he instantly hopped onto this opportunity to be a hero.

Taking a calming breath, Gwen tried to nudge into his head and force the thought 'Let them go. You have the wrong car.' but other than a minor moment of doubt, he shook her off and finished up his radio call. She was about to try again when Rudy suddenly shook her.

"Well!? He's still getting out of his car! What did you say to him!?"

"Nothing! He's too strong! He won't listen to me!" not only was she worried about Rudy would do, but she knew he probably wouldn't believe her, even though it was true.

"Bullshit! You could get my own assistant to fucking shoot at me and you can't get some pansy cop to drive away?"

"I couldn't get him to pull the trigger, remember?" she cringed and waited while he mulled that over and watched as the officer approached the car.

"Good point. I'll deal with it," he finally said, letting her go and turning to give the cop his brightest smile as he walked up to Rudy's window. "What can I do for you, officer?"

Despite the pleasant tone to Rudy's voice, the cop took one look at Rudy's beaten and torn face, his eyes sweeping over to Gwen with her hands in the circlet cuffs in her lap and pulled his gun out. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to please step out of your vehicle, nice and slow, with your hands where I can see them."

"Fuck me..." Rudy groaned in a low voice, staring at the barrel of the gun in dismay.

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