Infected 7: Ghost Girl
Author: P. S. Power
Date: 2014-02-12 17:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: The book that you've all been waiting for! The Infected world is ready to explode. Scott Chamber, the hero known as Prime to most of the world, along with Becky Young, who used to be known as Dharma before she took her own life, must work together to save them all. Against things so far out of their power class that it might be impossible. An old enemy, and new friends appear, combined with more headaches than even the IPB normally has to deal with at one time. Can Prime, the world's greatest super-hero, or at least it's most famous, stop things in time? Can he even survive it? Possibly, but o

The Infected:

Prime-Dharma

-Ghost Girl-

P.S. Power

Orange Cat Publishing

Contents

- Chapter one
- Chapter two
- Chapter three
- Chapter four
- Chapter five
- Chapter six
- Chapter seven
- Chapter eight
- Chapter nine
- Chapter ten
- Chapter eleven
- Chapter twelve
- Chapter thirteen
- Chapter fourteen
- Chapter fifteen
- Chapter sixteen
- Epilogue

- Author's Note

Chapter one

There were certain things that Scott Chambers expected from life, on any given day. He reflected on that fact as the small, and rather tidily manicured, hand slapped him across the left cheek.

"You bastard!"

The woman was starting to cry, her face, which was normally pretty enough, had tightened into a tense collection of wrinkles. It wasn't nearly enough for a true narcissist to be around. No, a person like that would feel they deserved better than the mess in front of him. Not that Scott was one of those, rumors aside. It just seemed like it to most people. The consensus was that he only cared about himself. Everyone agreed on that score, except for Scott.

Straightening his body caused his muscles to ripple alluringly. That wasn't a thing he could control, since every action he took presented him in the best light possible. That was his first mode after all. A nearly uncontrollable desire to seem manly and in control at all times. In charge and strong. Even as he stood in front of an innocent and probably very worthy woman, and told her to go away, more than a bit roughly. It wasn't how he wanted to seem, but it always happened in an almost identical fashion. He'd stand there and give them a look that spoke of self-importance, and try to express that he'd enjoyed their time together, but felt guilty about it. That never came out right.

He smiled this time, rather than let the affront to his dignity, that slap, cause him to melt down into a rage. That had happened before, on more than one occasion, but somewhere in his life, he'd actually learned not to let that get to him. Not as much. He still felt a stir of anger at the move deep inside. It was a dark and creeping thing that clawed at him, even as he worked to push it back. It had taken him a long time to realize that looking good didn't always mean seeming like a complete tool. True, that information had come from his friends, and not inside himself like it might have for a normal person. Mainly Denis and Tobin. The two men had actually bothered to be his friend over the last months, which very few others had ever done.

They didn't let him get away with a lot of garbage, which was apparently part of what being a real pal meant. Each in their own fashion had been slowly reshaping the golden mound of self interest that most people thought was him. It was almost like they saw through the veneer he wore, into his heart. Tobin especially. The funny looking little man with his big head and giant eyes could look right into a person's soul, and push on their heart without even trying. More than once he'd suggested that Scott make an effort to treat his wife and daughter better, without ever even saying the words that way.

Which was what had led him to this particular point, standing with a woman from Team Two, Sue, standing in front of him, her blouse unbuttoned in a way that was supposed to catch his attention, and her face made up well enough that it was clearly not an accident. The woman had been trying to get his attention for nearly a week, and when she finally approached him, working up the courage, he'd tried to let her down easily.

As the second slap came in, making his head turn a bit, since it had a lot more than normal human strength behind it, he had to reflect on the idea that maybe his new technique wasn't really working that well.

"I'm sorry Sue, I'm married." Everyone knew that. It wouldn't help a lot, because they also knew that he cheated like it was going out of style. All the tabloids, and most of the television programs, said so.

"So? When has that ever stopped you before?" She moved to hit him again, causing a stir, since they were standing right outside the restaurant on the first floor. He'd been ambushed coming out, after lunch. Not even ten feet from the door, the woman had simply walked up and asked if he wanted to go and have sex with her, probably understanding that having an audience would make it harder for him to say no.

It did, particularly since the people at the bar were mainly media personalities today. That meant every single one of them had either covertly raised a camera or some kind of recording device, the instant that the small Team Two member had started to go off on him. One of the men, Frank Houser, openly held a video camera up and stood closer, so that the mic on it would pick up what he was saying.

What he got would probably surprise the man then.

"Sue, it isn't you, and yes, I've made mistakes in the past. I should have spoken more clearly. It's really about trying to do better, not hurting your feelings. You're great. I'm just not single." The words nearly made him want to wince, since they came out sounding a bit insincere, even to his own ears. It was important to sound like you meant what you said.

Especially to women that were busily hitting you. At least he knew enough not to block or shy away too much. It was one thing for him to turn a woman down in public, another for him to go off, lose control, and act like a buffoon for the cameras. There were limits to how hard he could push his first mode after all. That nearly uncontrollable part of himself that really wanted to seem perfect, all the time.

It took three more slaps before the lady in question finally stormed off, her face set in a rage of her own. It was red and a bit streaked with mascara already. A thing he was used to seeing on women. That wasn't a good realization. Making women cry that much was a flaw. A weakness. Really, in a way, it was the one that had most of the people on the IPB base thinking he was a narcissist. Looking good, professional and being well dressed didn't make people hate you. Not most of them.

Making their friends cry did.

Frank sidled up to him, his white shirt straining over the ample stomach a bit, making lines in the fabric that were visible under the blue jacket. He had a tie on today, which was red. For Houser that was dressing up a lot. His thinning hair making him look both older than his years, and weaker than even he was. It wasn't a good look for anyone, but Scott didn't comment on things like that. He wanted to look good, and right now that meant spinning the situation, to prevent damage.

Catching his own reflection in the tall mirrored section to the right of the restaurant door let him make certain he wasn't too disheveled from the activity, which reassured him greatly. His golden hair was a bit askew, which needed to be fixed. The rest of him was normal, with his shining white teeth, flawless gold skin, lavender eyes and twelve hundred dollar suit. It hadn't even been ripped, which was a favor. All of his clothing had to be tailored, just to fit over his massive and rippling muscles.

That and the armor he had under his skin. It was really the second one that caused him to need the extra care when it came to his clothing. He had a few lines in places that normal people didn't, causing him to try and hide those flaws as often as possible. It wasn't always, and he knew that everyone understood what he was. Infected. It fairly poured off of him after all. Normal people didn't look like him. He was good looking, but it was nearly a parody of what a child would think of as perfect. Like a cartoon version of a man.

The slightly sweating reporter moved in, his camera still at the ready. There was a smile on his lips that seemed to foreshadow the grilling that was about to come. It was a Frank Houser hallmark. Even his fans hated the man, but he did have a way of getting at information that others missed.

"So, Prime. This is a bit of a change up isn't it? Since when have you turned down a piece of tail? Not to put too fine a point on the matter, but I'd hit that." There was a smirk to follow the words then and the camera didn't move at all, being used as a shield. "Are you only doing your daughter now?"

That was enough to cause the anger he'd managed to suppress during his discussion with Sue to climb all the way to the surface. In fact, it surged so suddenly that he could feel his face warping into an expression of disdain and haughty annoyance. Scott didn't hit the man, which probably saved his life. The reporter's, not his own.

Or so he thought, until he looked around to find Proxy coming out of the restaurant with his girlfriend, Mary.

Brian, the super hero and IPB Operative known as Proxy, would kill him if he tried to hurt the reporter in front of the man. It was how he was wired after all. He protected people. Even fat and slightly greasy journalists that weren't smart enough to get out of the newspaper business as it dried up like the old hag that it was. Of course, Frank was actually more attuned than that, which was why he had a camera with him. Anything said here would end up online, he didn't doubt. Scott didn't think that the other man would actually just start in on him for calling the creep in front of him a few choice names, but his own first mode wouldn't allow that.

Weak people did that sort of thing. The strong, the people in control, they didn't have to. Walking away was the right course of action at the moment, he knew. That it simply wasn't going to happen was also something he understood about himself. That left him with a huge problem, for nearly ten seconds. Standing there, upright and powerful looking, trying not to glare at the little chubby fellow. It didn't make him seem good, so he let his face shift to a smile. A dark one.

Mary moved forward, clearly having heard what the man had just said, a feeling of annoyance coming from her even as Brian touched her arm.

"Wait." Proxy spoke in a hushed and black voice that rippled with the promise of death. He did that all the time though, so it didn't get that big of response from the reporter.

His suddenly vanishing did.

That was part of his power. When people were about to die, he went and took their place. Then he'd do whatever was needed to save them. He'd fight to the death, run away, or even beg if it was needed. That he didn't have any physical powers meant that each fight was a real danger to him. A thing that his girlfriend, Mary knew.

She tensed for a moment, then nodded stiffly.

"We will wait for my mate to come back. This is not over, little peon. You have insulted a personage, and that will not stand!" The words came from the woman with vigor at least, and a strange accent that he always thought of as being slightly like Hobbs, the man from Team Two.

That made sense, given that they were both from the same alien world. An alternate reality, rather than a place in far off space. It had been kind of important for him to learn that, since it had turned out that the woman in front of him, Mary, was his biological mother. Just to sweeten the deal, and make things even more confusing, Brian, who was only twenty-three, was actually his father. It was unlikely, since Scott was thirty-six, for all he looked to be in his early twenties himself.

It had been a time travel situation. Part of Proxy's powers allowed for that it seemed, and Mary had similar abilities. Even better controlled however, since she could go pretty much anywhere she wanted in space or time. Her whole family could. Most of them.

Scott wasn't like that, which was probably due to his being Infected. That was the thought in medical at least. Doctor Burrows had done hundreds of tests on him since it had been discovered. Taking samples and giving him shots for some reason. Otherwise, if Scott hadn't been Infected, he would have probably had the same abilities as the incredibly powerful alien woman in front of him. The one that Frank Houser turned to, and tried to catch on camera. A thing that was suddenly gone.

Taking a deep breath, Scott reached out and touched Mary on the arm lightly. At first he suspected that she'd done it, but Kevin Moore, the Director of the Infected Protection Bureau was standing behind them, about five feet back. His power let him do that. Make things go away, and never come back. Now all he had to do was the fat man that had annoyed Scott, and said slanderous things, and the day would be looking up.

Which didn't happen. Mary at least collected herself and gave a single, rather haughty nod.

"Director Moore. I was just about to remind this man of his place in the world. Perhaps you could assist us? He was impugning the honor of Mr. Chambers here. In his own home. Should we call for an advocate?"

The Director was many things. Intelligent, old, powerful and most of all, a good politician. One of the best really. If he wasn't they wouldn't have had the IPB at all. So instead of pretending he didn't understand the woman, he let his head drop, ever so slightly. A serious look came with that move. It was just on the edge of not being polite.

"Oh? Mr. Houser, what were you saying that upset our guest?" There was no mention of the lady's name. That wasn't a mistake. She was being protected, since anyone learning of her powers was probably going to mention it to the government, and they'd want to try and take her in. That would not end well, for so many reasons.

The first being that the woman wouldn't be taken at all. Her power pretty much made that certain. The second was that Proxy would protect her from that. Even against the might of the government. If that happened, then most of the IPB and possibly a few other agencies might just follow him.

Frank wasn't a moron either, for all that the man had been goading a class five Infected to his face, clearly trying to get a reaction. That could be fatal, after all. Even if it was an accident, being dead was generally hard to reverse. The fat man had been playing a dangerous game that way. His reaction to the Director was a lot more telling however.

He blushed. It was a slight thing, but definitely embarrassment at his own actions.

"I... Had just been asking Scott here if he was only sleeping with his daughter now?"

That got Kevin Moore to look away, his face suddenly going hard. Angry.

"That situation has been resolved and all parties cleared. It was an attack from outside forces. I think you know that too, Mr. Houser."

There was a sudden break in the conversation then, since Brian came back, standing exactly where he had been, which was a few feet back from Mary now. There was blood on the front of his black military style outfit, a single dark blotch of wetness, with most of it being over his right hand. They all stopped to examine him, even the reporter. For different reasons.

Scott ran a quick check, moving toward the man and looking for gushing wounds, then breaks. There was nothing. Just someone's blood. Enough of it that whoever Brian had just been with probably wasn't alive anymore.

Brian glared at the chubby and poorly dressed news hound, and turned the topic back to what had been said, as if he'd never left at all.

"Slow news day, Frank? Getting Prime to slap you down might make the news, but using a person's first mode to cause problems isn't allowed here. I think you need to leave, for now, and to consider how close you came to causing a lot of loss, for a lot of people, today." There was menace to the words, and it was clearly intended.

That the chubby man didn't back away from the very fit and blood covered one probably meant he was brave. That or insanely stupid.

"Fine, give me back my camera then. I can run with footage of Prime turning down a piece of ass instead. It isn't as good, but we can claim it means he's playing for the other team now. People will buy it. He looks like a fruit, after all."

Scott had heard that one before. More than once, over the years. The idea was that some men thought he was good looking and were attracted to him, which they took to mean he must be gay. Or at least bi-sexual. They weren't hoping it either, since the real homosexuals all got that he liked women. It was just the men on the fence that didn't want to face what they really were inside that thought things like that.

A crazy and screwed up defense mechanism. Placing the blame for their sexual feelings onto him, as if that was how things worked. He made them feel like that.

It was Mary that shook her head, smiling.

"Your device is no longer available in this realm. I do not think it will be easily retrieved. Perhaps you should consider your lack of it simple good fortune? The route that does not require you to follow in its path to retrieve it?" She looked slightly mischievous just then, and gave off a single wave of power.

Brian stared at her, and so did Moore, but the reporter just acted like nothing had happened except a strangely worded threat. A mild one, from a woman that seemed like a cosplaying hippie.

The Director pointed in the direction of the front door, which was up a level, since they were underground. There was no need for speech at least, and the man didn't argue anymore about his missing gear.

He just looked pissy, "I'll go. It's a bad plan for a Federal agency to be hiding things like this from the public, I got to tell you. You think it's worth it now, hiding sex abuse for your people like this, but look at the Catholic Church. They got away with it for a long time, but now a lot of them are going off to the slam. That could be you, Prime. Soon." The man tried to act self-righteous about it, his head going high.

It was just enough for Scott to feel his control slipping totally. Even if he was going to die trying to do it, the man in front of him was going to pay for the lies he was spreading. There wasn't anything else left. He moved, getting ready for Proxy to kill him, or even for Moore to make him vanish forever, in order to stop the bad press of a murder. It nearly had to happen, one way or the other. They just couldn't afford for him to be seen killing people. He was too popular and high profile.

Mary moved in and hit the fat guy, her tiny fist awkwardly taking him right under the right eye. Scott blinked, since he hadn't realized before that she was left handed. She was of regular strength and fighting ability it seemed, so the man didn't go down, being much bigger than she was.

"You, ruffian, shall leave this place instantly, or I shall be forced to thrash you! Go! Be gone!" Then she moved at the man, which allowed the old and rather stout looking Director to motivate the target away before Scott could have his own turn.

A black and blood covered arm was held up between Scott and the man. Brian smiled, which looked normal for him. That meant grim and hard, lacking in all real warmth.

Then the man gave a single grunt, "let them handle this one. I hate that guy. Frank. He's always trying to dig at people." There was a more real smile then, after a second, "except Georgia. He loves her."

That got Scott to nod, his face still annoyed looking. He understood that one without having to ask why it would be the case. Georgia was pretty enough, in a slightly boyish way, but her power was pretty much designed to get people to have sex. She exuded the desire for it constantly. Plus, she actually followed through, and slept with almost anyone that asked politely, so a fat and rather unpleasant man could actually have a chance with her. All he had to do was play his cards right. Pixie didn't make that hard for people to do at all.

Grunting a bit, he let a smile try to touch his own lips. It took effort, but he managed it, since they were on camera, and this would all be recorded. Everything they did at the base was. Unless you were one of the non-Infected personnel, in your own quarters.

"Fine, I'll talk to her then, and see if she'll put the man on her black list." It was a petty revenge, a thing that was unworthy of even trying to really get done. Still, calling him a child abuser like that deserved retribution.

Killing the man was probably out of the question, so that left going after him using other means.

There was a sigh from Proxy, who looked at his blood covered hand.

"A teen girl. She was out of control and trying to kill herself a school full of other kids. Some kind of energy beam power. Class four at least. A boy had tackled her, and managed to take her down, but was about to die when I took his place. It's messed up." He started to walk away, since the others were out of range now, having removed the annoying reporter to at least the elevator. "I need to get cleaned up. Can you keep Mary company when she comes back? Just for a bit?"

There was not time to answer, as the other man just walked away, muttering to himself a bit. Talking to the voice in his head. A copy of a girl named Becky, that used to be on Team Two, before she'd died. That or her ghost. No one knew what the real case was there. Dharma. Scott had slept with her for a while, since she was young, and willing, and interesting enough in bed, due to her powers. It had been wrong of him, which he could see now. Back then it had all been about him looking good, as well as simply feeling entitled to take what was offered. That last part wasn't down to his mode however. It was just him being a creep.

True, it had been breaking his marriage vows, but Charlot had always seemed to understand when he did things like that. It made her mad, but everything annoyed her a bit, so it was hard to tell that he'd been hurting her in particular that way. It was only about sex. It wasn't as if he loved all those other women. Which hurt them, he knew. His wife too, he knew, once he'd finally grown up enough to get the idea. Even if she hid the pain of it from him.

The other side of that was something he hadn't even considered before, until a few months prior. Sleeping with a young and impressionable girl like Becky had been back then had harmed her too. On a level that was nearly evil. She'd been dark and brooding all the time, and other than sex, they hadn't had anything in common, so Scott had sent her away, in his typical fashion. He'd simply said he was done with her, and didn't need to see her anymore. Taking total control of the situation. The girl had just left, at the time, and hadn't made a big scene, which was a relief.

The problem had been that the girl's first mode was angst. A thing that he'd known about her. She had to take him rejecting her personally. There was simply no other way for her to process the move. He'd barely noticed at the time, feeling happy enough to move to the next thing. Women were easy to get after all, and were, back then, mainly for entertainment. Dharma had suffered for it.

For his momentary pleasure.

Only a monster would let things like that keep happening, so he was trying to stop it. Starting with Sue. She wasn't a horrible person, or even half as dark as Becky had been. Her first mode was actually a form of self-doubt, which meant that his turning her down like he had was probably the exact wrong thing to do. There simply wasn't a better one that Scott could think of on short notice. Even taking her to bed would end up with her being hurt.

Mary and the Director finally returned, about ten minutes later, his bio-mom smiling at him, and not looking at the Director at all.

"You'll not need to worry over that man, now. Your liege, Kevin Moore, has put rout to the villain and sent him into exile from his lands." There was a slightly strained look on her face, which after thinking about it for a bit, Scott realized would probably have to do with her slightly bruised knuckles. Other people felt pain more keenly than he did.

Cleary Director Moore had been given more than a little help in removing the sleaze from their midst. Scott didn't normally have to think about himself when it came to injury, but his friends could be hurt, so there might be need for some kind of aid or medicine.

"We should get you some ice for that hand. Here, I'll see if someone-" He turned as he spoke, moving back toward the restaurant, to find that Sandra, the hostess for the mid-day and evening shifts was already coming out with a plastic bag of the stuff wrapped in a hand towel. It might not have been in her job description, but the woman was good. She saw what was needed and got it done, barely even blinking about the idea that Mary had just been assaulting another customer, not long before.

"Here you go! That was something. Can you believe the nerve of that man? Bringing a camera into my restaurant like that, without even asking for permission first? I should have helped you toss him out. I just didn't want to get a run in my stockings." She was about forty, but looked good for her age. She had nice hair, which changed regularly in color and style. Lovely green eyes too. As far as Scott knew the woman was a regular human, but most people were, so he didn't hold that against her.

Mary gave a small bob, which was something like a curtsy, without being one, at all. Her deep blue skirt didn't shift at all, which the leg crossing that move would have needed should cause. It was some kind of other world thing. Strange but not so much so that anyone would run away screaming about the aliens.

"I thank thee, for thy most welcome aid."

"No problem." Sandra smiled and went back to her post near the inside of the door to the establishment, seeming pleased.

Then Mary's voice changed a bit, becoming less formal as she glanced past him at Brian, who was returning with Karen in tow.

Lady Glory. She was a nice person. In fact it was hard to not like her. She was kind, compassionate, and could literally make you feel the same way. It was her power. Not that she was using it at the moment. That meant she wasn't glowing blue, and sounding like someone was using a voice synthesizer in a B-movie. At the moment she was just her. Karen Young, former Olympian and current IPB Agent.

If they were going to count Team One as actually being real agents that day. Most of the time they didn't. Not when the chips were down. That was his team. The public face of the organization. The pretty, famous, and easy to get along with. Also the ones that no one sane would send into battle if they could help it. Not that they were all weak or anything, but when it came down to it, as a crowd, they sort of lacked a killer instinct. On their team only he and Shiva could really manage that at all, most of the time. If he didn't count Marcia, at any rate.

Proxy could have taken them all out on his own, if he wanted. Maybe not Quartz, their current leader, but the rest of them wouldn't be much of a challenge for someone like him. A killer.

Scott tried to rally and let go of the fact that he'd just been being accused of being a daughter raping monster a little bit ago. It wasn't his first mode causing his anger in this case, which meant he had to deal with it like anyone else would. Like an adult. People that could take on small battle groups didn't have the luxury of acting like spoiled prima donna's. Not with a war brewing.

To that end he subtly took a calming breath and let it out under control, so that it wouldn't seem like a sigh, which could be taken for weakness.

"Karen! How are you today?" He managed to sound like he wasn't miserable himself, which wasn't returned.

It was true that she didn't love him as much as she did most people, but she managed to be happy enough around him, most days. Since she wasn't glaring at him directly, he had to suppose it wasn't about him not sleeping with Sue or anything as strange as that. It could happen, he knew, since her compassion was so strong that it could overwhelm common sense at times. This wasn't what was going on, since she forced a pleasant expression.

"Not great. We have Wendy McConnell coming in later today. At the same time as Senator Roberts. I'm supposed to meet both of them, but given that she just spent the last two days blaming him for the Infected problem on the hate channel, I don't think forcing the man to be in the same room with her is exactly the best plan. I don't even know why she's coming, to tell the truth. She's clearly one of the anti-Infected spokespeople. We don't get a lot of those in here, day to day. Any thoughts, Brian?" It was pretty clear that she was leading the Chinese man to repeat what he'd been saying to her. Mainly because he shook his head, and said so.

Brian didn't bother holding his words back a lot, as far as Scott could tell.

"Like I was just telling Karen, it's pretty clearly meant to be part of a set up. My guess is that that thing with Frank trying to cause a scene was part of it too. I wish we could have gotten Christian to scan his mind before he took off. Becky agrees with me on this. That it's a trap."

He glanced at empty space, and then stiffened a bit, his eyes going wide.

"Sorry, I'm about to leave again. Busy day. Clear a path." There was a grimace, and without any more explanation, the fit looking thin man hurled himself directly to his own right and vanished again.

They all just stood there, seeming blank and quiet for a bit. Karen rallied first, and started to speak.

"I was wondering-" Just as Brian came back, looking fine, and barely breathing hard.

"Traffic. I just had to get someone out of the way. I... think it might have been a dog." Everyone else just stared for a moment, and Mary moved in, hugging him with her good arm.

"A most lucky animal then, if that's the case, darling." Her words were a lot less formal, since she was speaking to someone she counted as family. It was a thing that Scott had noticed her doing, more than once. The closer she felt to a person the less formal she got.

Rather than let Karen finish, since Proxy didn't know he was interrupting, he gestured at the air.

"Becky thinks she can handle this one, if you'll help her, Scott?"

At first he wanted to beg off. Not because he thought that Brian had just imagined the girl, since that would be stupid. Proxy hadn't known her at all, and she was very clearly there for him. Others could talk to her too, even see her, and said she was the same person. A girl that he'd callously tossed aside, not even caring that it would damage her.

Knowing on some level that it nearly had to.

His first mode didn't make allowances for how he felt at times, so he had to smile and stand straight. His expression was a bit bland, and a bit patronizing, at a guess.

"Naturally. I'd love to, Becky. How are we going to do that?" A couple of people could hear her, after all, including Brian, whose head she lived in. Him simply sharing what the girl wanted made the most sense, didn't it?

Brian held up his right hand, and then pointed at the Director.

"Could you call Chris? She and Becky have been working on something. Just ask her to get things going? She'll know what to do."

It took about a minute, but almost as soon as the older man put his cell phone away, Scott understood what the plan was.

Because right next to him, clearly visible to everyone, stood Becky Young.

The dead girl.

Chapter two

Becky had picked her clothes carefully for the day. It wasn't like they were real, but she'd wanted to make herself seem professional for her first appearance. Good, but dressy in a regular fashion, not meant to make a statement other than that she was back. Sort of, at least. Her old style had been a little too emo, and had hints of Goth to it that most people wouldn't have gotten anyway. Lots of black lipstick and a few body piercings that had seemed like a good idea at the time. She'd liked the pain. It wasn't the kind of thing she wanted people to know, now, but it was why she'd done it.

As an acceptable way to hurt herself. Cutting wasn't allowed at the IPB. If she'd done that psych would have locked her up on the eighth floor.

So she was in a green skirt, with a nice cream blouse, white stockings and sensible shoes. Her hair was back to its natural red and her "makeup" was done to make her look a lot like Karen, her older sister.

Not as pretty, but she never had been, being a bit bulky from all the muscle she carried that Lady Glory just didn't. Not that she was fat, just muscular. It was different. That's what she told herself at least. At the moment she looked a little rounder than she had in life. It was one of the perks of being dead, she decided. Really, she could have gone full out and given herself a nose job too, but hadn't. She wasn't there to pick up guys after all.

Not even Prime.

He was pretty glorious himself, still, looking just as yummy as always. The prick. She smiled at him, her mouth actually watering a bit. That was an illusion, since she didn't have a mouth, but a good one. That part was down to Brian's brain, which was freaking incredible. He could hold a lot more at once than she ever could have. It wasn't something she'd ever explained, but she'd picked him for that reason, riding her sister's power out of Karen, and locking onto the man instead. It had been a risk, but she hadn't been able to do much with her sister. Brian was way more interesting, because, after she locked onto him, he grabbed back. His first mode had made him do it.

For the current project to work, she was kind of straddling between Brian and Chris, holding both of them closely. Without Brian's help, she didn't think she'd be able to stay in the world like she was. Maybe as a silent observer, but not a lot more. Christian however was the one making the interesting things happen that day. That was because the woman was incredibly awesome.

"Hey! Can you see me? We've only ever tried this with one person at a time before." She looked around, and saw her sister go very wide eyed. It was a bit of a mean trick, just springing herself on everyone like she was.

Then, warning her first would spoil the surprise, so it had to be done.

"Becky?" Her sister didn't move.

She did, smiling hugely. With everyone watching she closed with her older sister, the Pollyanna happy time girl, and gave her a hug. She felt the connection, and so did Karen, which made her freeze for a second.

"I... Are you..." It wasn't a real question.

Becky got the idea anyway.

"Nope. Still dead and gone, like always. Sort of. I'm being projected into everyone's brain by Chris. She says it isn't that hard to do, so we can have lots of quality time together, if anyone wants. Which you will, because, cool ghost girl. Am I right?" She looked around, the image tracking perfectly for her, even if that didn't make a lot of sense.

She should have seen mainly what Brian did. Unless she were actually a spirit. That would be cool too, but there was no real way to know if that was the case at all. She was working on the idea that she was really just an echo of her former self.

It was pretty surreal for a few seconds, but everyone let her hug them, including Mary, who held her at arm's length after they were done, and stared.

"I hear that you've been living in my Brian's head. Plaguing him? Has he wronged you? Do you haunt him, seeking redress of a great wrong done in life?" The tone was playful, which she was used to, having been around the strange girl a lot. Woman. She was at least seventy after all. She just looked like she was twenty, that was all.

Becky winked, trying to make it seem cute and loveable. After all, getting off on the wrong foot with Mary would make poor Brian miserable. He was her house after all.

"Look, I only plague him on alternate Friday's... and in the shower. The rest of the time I'm indispensably useful. Right Brian?" She looked at him, and knew that her face probably seemed pretty doubtful, if anyone was paying attention. Low self-esteem. She'd always had that, hadn't she? In real life it had eventually been hidden behind her mask of angst and slight rage, but it was a part of her even now.

Brian was a sweetheart about it anyway, even knowing that about her.

"I'd be dead by now, without you, Becky. Hey, wait..." He moved in and collected his own hug and then chuckled at her. "Damn, here I can finally feel you, and I have a girlfriend. Well, them's the breaks!"

No one else reacted, but she smiled, getting it. After all, how many times had she promised to do the guy, if he could only feel it? She wasn't a tease or anything, but really didn't want to chat with him about her making sure he had regular sex at the moment. For one thing she liked Mary, and while the woman clearly had some different ideas about what a relationship with a ghost was, it probably didn't account for Dharma vamping her boyfriend and baby-daddy.

So she laughed instead.

"That's true. Well, I should get to work. Karen... We should get together later? I'll vanish if Brian leaves to help someone, or gets more than a few miles away from here, but otherwise Chris thinks she can set things up most of the time without it stressing her out. Some kind of subconscious thing she can do?" That wasn't actually true, but it was close enough so that no one would worry about what was really going on, which had to do with a lot of extra work for their reclusive telepath. That and Becky making a connection with her that was a bit too close to the description of spirit possession for most to be comfortable with if they knew. It would take energy away from doing other things. Like reading the minds of people on the base. Fortunately, Christian didn't really want to do that, most of the time, so for her it was a good trade off.

It was pretty clear to her that both Brian and Director Moore got the idea. The old man knew what everyone on the base could do pretty exactly, since it was part of his job. Brian just suspected that everyone was like he was, and would sacrifice almost anything to help others. It wasn't true, but that kind of thing colored his thoughts all the time anyway.

Karen hugged her again.

"I'd love to. Are you going to be really busy right now? We could go and talk... I'm so sorry."

Dharma let her face go stern, and then crossed her arms.

"Don't be a ditz, sis. You didn't kill me. I first moded out and jumped off a roof. Angst as a first mode pretty much meant I was dead from the moment I popped. It was only thanks to you, and some of the others here that I lasted as long as I did. Thank God that I didn't go the other route and kill a bunch of other people first. It was a lot closer than you know, at the end. That was part of the reason I did it. Killing myself so that I wouldn't hurt anyone I loved."

That got Karen to stop talking at least. She seemed subdued, rather than hurt, which was about as much as Becky could ask for. She gave her another hug, just in case Chris got tired of all the drama and dropped her back to being her regular ghost girl self. She half expected that to happen, since Christian didn't suffer fools gladly.

It took a few seconds, but she looked ahead in her mind, thinking about what was coming. Like a real psychic, nearly. Not all of the fights that Proxy went to were scheduled in advance very far, but she got about ninety percent of them, now. She could even tell a bit about the people involved most of the time. The thing was that Brian had started to work that out too, and really didn't need her anymore.

For a while he had, but now she was pretty much dead weight. Just a voice in his brain that said annoying things and kept him from banging Lady Glory. That had been her fault. All of it. They'd broken up, Brian and Karen, because Dharma was in his head and couldn't stand the idea of him getting busy with her older sister. If they'd been doing it, then Karen would have never slept with Rob, her team leader. Or, more to the point, the man would have never done her. He'd been lonely, and Kare was hot, so in a weak moment, he'd done it. If he hadn't known for certain that Brian and Karen weren't having sex, he would have backed off. No one would have risked having to fight Proxy, after all. Not if they were sane, which the Team One leader was.

Just horny, and too willing to use alcohol as an excuse for screwing up. Or at least screwing Karen.

That wasn't her problem right then, since the man was still off in D.C. watching the President. Torque wasn't a slouch in a fight after all, and could take down most Infected by himself, if only one at a time. He pretty much just slammed them into the ground, but it worked a lot better than most would have thought. Especially when he had secret service backup. Guns weren't a super power, but they could still beat most people, when used by a professional.

She was starting to feel a bit out of place when Prime looked at her, made a face that was less than pleasant and then, instead of telling her to go away, which was what she sort of expected from him, spoke directly to her. Like she was actually there, and everything.

"You have a plan for dealing with Wendy McConnell?"

It was pretty clear that the great looking ego on legs was feeling a little bit uncomfortable. Maybe he was afraid of ghosts? The idea didn't thrill her as much as it would have once. She got it now that her old first mode didn't exist anymore. Prime was just a product of his own drives. Just like she had been. Now she was free of that, and he was still stuck, living in a bubble of his own self-interest.

She felt a pang of pity for him. She didn't let it show, knowing that he'd have to react negatively to that sort of thing.

"Yeah, I do have some thoughts on the matter. We need to keep her off guard, not let anything too bad happen and prevent anyone from rising to whatever bait she puts out. You did a good job earlier, with that pig that was trying to get you going. Houser. It might have been a bit better if you hadn't kicked him in the balls, Mary, but at least you got the camera away first. That was good thinking, Director Moore." She giggled, which got Brian to give her a pained look, but then she explained, since she wasn't a total bitch.

Not anymore. Not for years. Being dead had totally mellowed her out that way.

"Oh, just by the by, I can't be seen or heard on camera, so be careful when answering me, but I can say whatever I want." Literally too. She could call Prime a child molester all day long, and the buffoon couldn't do anything about it at all.

As a ghost she couldn't be hurt. Not physically. The rest of it was a bit more negotiable, now that everyone could talk to her. Her feelings could be hurt, just like anyone else.

Moore looked at Brian, as if were his fault that this new and unholy menace had been released on them, and then sighed. It was a long suffering thing that spoke of more than a little annoyance. That was because of the fact that Brian kept stepping on the other man's dick all the time, and undermining his authority. Worse, the young Asian guy was a genius and had psychic powers. That meant he was almost always right when he did things like that, which had to be a pain in the ass for the old man.

Most people kind of liked to believe they were in charge of the things that they were the Director of. Kevin had done fine for decades, and then Brian came along and started acting like he should be in co-command. That had to cheese the man off. That he held his tongue as much as he did probably meant the man was a better person than she was. If it had been her having to put up with that kind of thing all the time, she would have failed. Possibly using violence as a solution. At least name calling.

Brian just shrugged, since this time it wasn't him at all, and he could prove it at need, by pointing at the ghost. He was about to do that in fact, which she could feel happening, when Prime moved in and patted her on the back. It wasn't a loving thing, or a shove. To be fair it was probably meant to be a sign of ownership over her, given who was doing it. Still, it felt nice. People hadn't touched her for a long time. Not on purpose. Now that she could sort of do it, the first person to manage it was the self-centered jerk. The pretty one that she'd always felt a bit too attracted to for her own good.

He winked at her, making the move seem friendly, and only a bit like he wanted to do her in the hallway. That could be her projecting the idea on him, but it was hard to tell.

"We should go and see to that then? Do we need to take a walk?" There was a hesitancy to that last bit.

Everything on the IPB base was watched. The bathrooms had more than one camera, and there were rumors that the contents of the toilets were checked with every flush. The idea was that you didn't do anything there that you didn't want to be known. So if you had something really secret to share, you took a walk outside the fence. Scott didn't really get that she knew about that sort of thing yet. To him it probably seemed like she'd been gone for years and only returned moments before. He was pretty, but not all that smart.

Still, she thought for a bit before answering. It wasn't a horrible idea. Not needed for the moment, but she could do that with people too now. All on her own. As long as they didn't go too far from Brian.

"We should be fine. We aren't going to hurt the witch or anything, just control who she sees and interacts with. Can you hold things together well enough with her? She's not your biggest fan, but hasn't gone after you like most of the rest of us either. You're Prime after all." The last bit was tacked on, since an appeal to ego was always a good idea with the man. Presenting a challenge was too, but that part was riskier. He could be made upset by it.

This time he just nodded.

"I think so. The woman is a master of pushing buttons and as far as I can tell, is willing to say anything without a sense of conscience. It isn't like I don't have my hot button issues. We can keep most of the others away from her, I think. We shouldn't expose Charlot to her. She'd put her through a wall. In fact, I've lost two televisions to her practicing for that, so far." It was said with a smile, but Becky didn't doubt that it was a simple fact for a minute.

Charlot Chambers was a barracuda of a PR person, and knew how to work the public like almost no one else in the world. She could also project force blasts and was annoyed by almost everyone, all the time. That was her starting place in life, so putting a horrible harpy of a human being into the same space as her was asking for a death.

Becky didn't know what kind of Infected power Wendy McConnell had, but was willing to guess it was pretty minor. Otherwise she wouldn't hate the Infected nearly as much. Unless her first mode forced her to.

That was a fun thought, and had been true about certain other people in the past, but the knowledge from inside Brian's subconscious mind informed her that it wasn't the case this time. Wendy was just that big of a pain in the rear. That was all. There was no excuse either. No mental illness, Infection or early childhood abuse to put forth as a reason. She'd simply seen that being a hate monger was a potential career path, and taken it without looking back.

She got to pass out more hugs, and Karen didn't want to let her go for a long time, but finally pulled back.

"Tonight? After dinner?" Becky didn't know the plan. Senator Roberts wasn't the kind to try and get Lady Glory into bed, being happily married. They weren't supposed to talk about it, but several of the women on Team One had basically been forced to whore themselves to politicians for their votes in the House and Senate, trying to keep the Hooper act from going through. It was the revised version, true, but that was still pretty much a declaration of war on the Infected by the government. Even Jason, the first team's speedster had slept with a few rather crusty looking old Republican women in order to try and get them to not send them all to the gas chambers.

So far it was working.

Not that the law actually spoke of gas chambers specifically. Just internment camps. That, and summary execution for any Infected individual that they didn't feel they could control using normal means. As Brian had pointed out a few times, that was almost everyone they knew. Not that she counted, but if Proxy took a nuke to the head, she was probably gone too.

It made keeping him alive pretty important to her. It was that or find alternative living arrangements. She wasn't certain if anyone else could hold her like he did, however. Maybe Chris could, but that was an awful lot to ask of a person that didn't really want to be around other people most of the time.

Karen nodded, and smiled, which caused her face to light up a lot. "That would be good. I should be in my room at about eight?"

That decided Becky actually managed to escape the scene. It had gone a lot better than she'd figured it would have. No one cried at her at all, or screamed about seeing a ghost. Not yet at least. If she had it right, she should be seen by almost everyone in the place, just like anyone would if they had a body.

She was tempted just to phase through the floor, heading to the ninth level first, since she sort of wanted to surprise her new team, when she realized that Prime was following along behind her. Like they were walking together. Which, no doubt, made sense.

"Elevator or stairs?" She was good with either.

To her surprise the man just looked away.

"Elevator?" There was an uneasiness to him, that hadn't been there a few moments before. He probably figured that after being dead for years she'd be up for a quickie now. They'd done that before, in the elevator, so it wasn't without precedence. She didn't correct him on it, even if she wasn't all that certain she wanted to do it. Things hadn't ended well between them, and really hadn't been resolved by the time she'd died.

Part of her deciding to kill herself had been over that rejection. It wasn't fair of her to blame him now, and really, she didn't. Like she'd said to Karen, her mode had pretty much been a death sentence back then. That didn't mean she wanted her first time to be with Prime, now that she was able to feel things again.

Plus there was the fact that Christian would know all about what she was doing and with who. That meant some of her options would be limited, didn't it? Mark was off the table, even though he was nice. Certainly worth spending time with. Also dating Chris, so asking her to set it up so he could feel her would be a bit too much. Tobin was her son, which only a few people knew, even at the base, so he was probably not getting any cool ghost girl action either. That was too bad, since he was pretty interesting, looking like a tiny frog man like he did. A cute one.

Like a doll, or possibly a puppet.

Prime was doable, in more ways than one, but again, she was sort of holding a grudge there. A tiny one, but it was real enough. When someone got done having sex with you for the last time, the first words out of their mouth weren't supposed to be "I'm done with you now, go away." They just weren't.

Now that her first mode was gone, Becky could tell that it hadn't just been her being too sensitive, which she'd kind of wondered at the time. Back then if her favorite show had been cancelled, she felt like the world was ending, so it had been more likely than not that she'd been overreacting. Now she could tell that it was pretty much just Prime being his normal narcissistic self. Being a good person, she tried to feel that pity for him again. It didn't really come, even as the door to the elevator opened and they both stepped in.

"Hit nine? Or... Do you want to talk?" She really hoped he wouldn't turn to her, and try to kiss her. It was going to be too tempting and she needed to stay strong.

The man hit the first button, but didn't stop the elevator.

"We can talk later? I-" There was pause that went on for about five seconds, until the car started to move. That seemed to shake the golden, and very attractive, man into speaking. "I need to apologize to you. I've been thinking about that. I, you remember... back when we were seeing each other? I shouldn't have done that."

The door opened about then and they both stepped off into the golden carpeted hallway of the ninth floor. It was the short kind that offices and public buildings had most of the time. Like a hotel. There was the scent of cooking from the dining room, and no one was in sight. Down the hall to the left, Chris was in her office, which Becky felt like a point of warmth in her head. There was a connection there now, that was nearly as strong as the one she had with Brian. The others were all in the room, waiting to eat.

She stopped and waited, wondering what else the man had to say to her. That he even remembered having slept with her, given his life, was a big thing. That he felt guilt about it, well, that just sounded unlikely. Did the man feel things like that at all? Could he?

He didn't make her ask what thing he was talking about, clarifying for her rather nicely.

"All of it. I knew better, or should have. I shouldn't have been unfaithful to Charlot. I know that a lot of people cut me slack on that, because of my first mode, but I'm not a narcissist. I just seem like I am to most people. I have to seem like I'm powerful and in control all the time, which is different. I know right from wrong, and risking you, with all that angst, it was wrong. I've always wondered if what I did to you... Did I make you kill yourself?" There was real fear in the words, and she was really tempted to just let the man off the hook. It didn't matter now. Becky Young was dead and buried, and that was the end.

Except, here she was, able to exact her revenge.

"You aren't a narcissist? Really?" It was rude, but she smiled, hoping it wouldn't insult him too much.

"I know, who can tell? The answer is no. I generally don't bother to tell anyone that. People see me that way for a reason, and arguing that I don't feel like that all the time isn't going to change their minds, is it? I take it that you're dodging my question? That can't be good, can it?" He looked down the hallway to the left, as if noting where the people were. That was probably because he'd heard something. She thought he had hyper senses like that. Better hearing and probably vision, than most people did.

Dharma focused inside herself, half hoping that Brian would have to go and fight someone, or better yet, save another puppy. That event had come out of the blue. Honestly she was nearly certain his subconscious mind had set that one up on purpose, just so he'd leave at the right time for impact on the situation they'd been in. There was nothing that way, now. No relief from the awkward conversation at all. Then she tried to think at Christian, to get her to make her vanish, but the telepath ignored her, or pretended to. Since that probably wasn't really possible, it meant something. Like the woman wanted her to actually act like a grown up and talk to the man next to her.

That sounded like something she'd do. Not that part where she'd force a confrontation, but the one where she'd ignore a plea for help, so that she just wouldn't have to deal with anyone else. They all had their burdens, and that one was the telepath's.

"It... You heard what I said to Karen? About how my mode pretty much meant that I was doomed? That wasn't wrong." She wanted to leave it there, and was tempted to dash off into the dining room, in hopes that other people being around would at least delay the conversation. That might have worked, but it wasn't exactly the kind of person she wanted to be, so she took a fake breath and then regarded the man closely. He was looking directly into her eyes, not blinking. Not breathing either.

Tightening her face a bit, she soldiered on. She'd gotten on Brian's back about being a little bitch man too often for her to puss out now.

"I guess... Well, yeah. I mean, I'm not blaming you, except that you were a prick, but that didn't kill me. I did. It's... was it on my mind around that time? Yes. Any rejection probably would have done it. Not that you should use that as an excuse, but my death wasn't your fault." Except that it sort of had been.

He got that too, it was clear. It showed in his eyes as he finally took a breath of his own, and looked away.

"I'm sorry. I can't make it up to you at all. What do I do?" His voice held a raw edge to it. Like he was contemplating tears. Nothing showed on his face that way. Becky couldn't tell if that meant he was faking the voice, or the rest of it.

After thinking about it all for half a minute, she shrugged. After all, even if he was faking feeling bad, well, it meant he cared enough to try. She wouldn't have expected that of him in a million years. That he'd apologized for anything was so big that she didn't really know how to process the idea.

Moving toward him, she gave the man a little hug. It wasn't flirty, or too close, just reassuring. His scent was familiar, a kind of expensive aftershave, she thought. Manly, but not real. A memory, being brought out by the moment. She didn't have a real nose, so didn't smell anything. Except that she had been, she realized, ever since Christian had started projecting her form into everyone. She got it of course, now, but hadn't expected it at all. She was using the senses of the people around her, to interact with the world.

It was incredible.

"Prime, it's not the same, and I don't know what I am, but I'm here. Things back then weren't great, but they're different now and we can make them better." She moved back and grinned at him. "I mean, not together, as in like a couple. You get that, right? I'm not trying to hook up or anything? Not with you. Besides, you said that it was wrong to cheat on your wife. When did that happen?"

"I don't know. Somewhere between when Denis mentioned it to me... and when Tobin did. I guess the idea just finally sunk in that I'm too old to keep acting like a twenty year old that can't keep it in his pants. That's harder to do than it sounds like." He shook his head, not even trying to smile. "Do you remember what Denis used to be like? Always attacking people with words? You two knew each other, before, right?"

Knew was a bit of a stretch, since they'd barely spoken a half dozen times.

"He was always decently polite with me. I get the idea I think. If he's telling you that something is a poor plan for your relationship, then you might be messing up a bit."

That got a grunt as the man straightened his suit, probably without realizing he was doing it. If he had to look good all the time, strong and ready, or whatever his real mode was, then it was probably an unconscious thing.

"About like that. I guess, on some level I just realized that I can't be that man anymore. I need to be a good father and husband and make that more important to me than what I want in the moment. That makes me look good too, don't you think? Being responsible, no matter how hard it is?"

Becky had to agree with that. Not only did it really make him seem like a better person, but it was reinforcing his first mode in a positive fashion.

"More than almost anything else you could do. Shall we go in? I think Denis has some scallops going."

She smiled as they moved. If nothing else, she could smell the meal, even if Brian wasn't there to taste it for her.

Chapter three

Scott was a bit indifferent to the food being served, but made an effort to really taste it. It wasn't that it was prepared poorly. Denis was becoming a good cook, thanks to Mark pushing him into it.

It was just that he hated sea food. Not to the level that he'd spit it out or anything, but lobster and crab might as well have been library paste, as far as he was concerned.

"Very good! I love the white sauce you have on this. Is that tarragon?" He let his voice rumble a bit, trying to distract everyone from the ghost in the room.

That part was bizarre, but he'd dealt with other things nearly as strange. Almost every day. They all did, so it shouldn't be a huge issue for the rest of the group that was assembled there. So far it seemed to be actually working that way. It probably wouldn't last much longer, since not everyone was there yet, but Penny Cooper, Cellophane, was taking it all in stride.

"Yes. It's not too bad, Den. Sea food isn't something I normally get to have much of. We need an expert on it, to tell if you did it right." She was being diplomatic, and sounded a little shy. It was her first mode, and it helped her a lot if people kind of ignored her. That was something that Prime had no trouble doing.

She was cute enough, but that was a trap for him now, wasn't it? Paying attention to the dark tan and black haired woman was asking for him to slip up and cheat. So he paid attention to the tasting portions on his plate. Right until Becky started to speak.

"I think it might be a little overdone. It's supposed to be a little chewier, isn't it? The scallops I mean. These are sort of mushy."

The words got Mark Steinberg to nod, from his seat down the large dining room table. The man looked nice enough, in a rather ethnic fashion. Thin, which was needed for his television work, and with light colored eyes. That helped to offset the nose a bit, which was very Roman. Jewish really, but no one cared about that. Not on someone that was also Infected.

There was a relaxed quality to everything he did, since total mind control was the only thing that allowed him to control his first mode at all. His power triggered when he got scared, and fear was what he went to, if he let it happen. Scott glanced his way, just as he started to speak, sounding like nothing in the world at all could be wrong.

"A bit. I notice that you didn't have any though, Becky." It wasn't an accusation, since he wouldn't do that. Just an observation.

The girl made a bit of a face. She was nice looking, in her own way. A bit geeky, to tell the truth. Like she should have glasses on her face. It was an improvement over the old look she'd always had, which was black face paint and slutty clothing. Not that he didn't approve of the outfits. The makeup had simply been trying too hard. She wasn't going to be a television star anyway, so she had about the right idea with her current appearance. American normal girl.

She giggled, which got Mark to smile a bit. Then, she was flirting with him. Too much, considering the man was dating Christian Pours.

"I'm getting feedback from all of you, and kind of rounding it out. Chris is doing it for me. It's an interesting effect."

"Ah. Cool. She's right Denis. Lower the cooking time on the scallops by about two minutes?"

"Right, right. Everyone's a critic. You come back from the dead, and what's the first thing you do? Oh, yeah, I know, let's ride poor Denis into the ground." He grinned as he came out of the kitchen, with a small plate of fresh scallops. They were set in front of Mark, who cut one in quarters, examining it carefully.

The calm man chewed and swallowed before speaking.

"Better. Becky?"

She nodded too, her attention suddenly going to the door. That got Scott to look, a smile coming to his face when he saw who was there. It was his mother, Rachel. Behind her his daughter Bridget stood, looking almost like a miniature version of the older woman. Both had red hair, a deep rust color that didn't grow very long. Their eyes were both a deep red that had hints of brown too. Short and thin, because they had such fast metabolisms.

Their powers were similar too, which was why they looked so identical. The Infection could do that, at times. Rachel wasn't his biological mother, and Bridget was well and truly his child. That meant that there was no normal reason for his girl to have a similar look at all. Really, if anything she should have seemed part Chinese, like Brian. That wasn't the case at all. In fact, as she got older she was becoming more like her grandma than not. It wasn't even close to being identical, thank goodness.

His daughter's face was filling out a little, making it a bit rounder, which on her looked good. It had been a bit pointy before.

Becky stood, her chair not moving at all, since she wasn't really there, not physically.

"Hey! Rat-girl! There you are." She moved, but not too fast, since it was just possible that Bridget, who was extremely Impulsive, could react poorly to seeing the ghost of her old friend.

It seemed like she should have, but her face just went still for about ten seconds, as she clearly seized control of her emotions. Whatever they were.

"Hello? I... Becky?" She stared for a long time, and slowing moved toward the other girl, who moved in and hugged her, getting one in return. The younger girl, who had just turned sixteen, yelped when they touched. There was no pulling away from the action, just a tightening of her arms.

The slightly older dead girl nodded and held her little friend close.

"Right you are, it's me! Just to shorthand things, I'm still dead, and in Brian's head, but Chris is letting you all see me. It works really well, so we can hang out and stuff. Really, I guess that means I should get back to work soon? Do you think Director Moore will pay me? Not that I need money, but it's the principle of the thing."

Den snorted coming in with not one, but two large plates filled with food, setting them in place for Bridget and Rachel. The older woman took the scene in stride, as if people coming back from the dead wasn't a new concept to her at all. Most of them had done that, come to think of it. Even he had handled it all pretty well.

As he got the well plated food onto the table, the man, who was dressed in blue jeans and a button up the front matching shirt, rolled his eyes.

"Good luck on that one. They keep all my money locked up. I can't even buy a magazine without getting permission. I can't imagine that phantoms will get much better treatment. Plus, can you imagine trying to show that one in the budget? They'd probably lock him up if he tried it."

That was just true, Scott knew. "They're probably looking for a reason to do just that. I bet you could get a room, or at least an office. There have to be some perks, if you plan to actually do work. Otherwise why would you do anything but hang around and haunt people?"

She let Bridget go, and turned to the others, her hand on the smaller girl's back still. They'd been close when she was alive, since their training had them working together a lot. They had similar powers. Or had. Since Becky couldn't touch anything, her super strength and speed weren't going to come into play. She probably had some kind of ghost abilities however. Invisible spying, or perhaps the ability to possess other people? He'd have to ask about that. It might come in handy at some point, being able to take someone over. Later, when they weren't being watched. Taking over a Senator right before a vote might just be helpful.

Bridget moved places, grabbing her plate, so that she could sit right next to Becky, on the other side of the girl. Even without looking Scott knew his daughter would be reaching out to touch her friend a hundred times an hour. It was all about reassuring herself. The original death had shaken her horribly. For nearly six months she'd cried herself to sleep each night, and then she'd started to act out a lot more.

Mainly by sexually attacking adult men, and a few women, in the night. Never him, thankfully. Most of the men on Team One had woken up with the girl on top of them, more than once. They'd also prevented her from doing anything with them, since promotional group or not, they tended to be decent human beings.

Team Two had more problems there, and only about half of the men had actually sent the girl away. Tobin had. He was just turning twenty now, and was the only person on the base back then that would have been even a remote age match for Bridget. Still, when she'd come to his door, he'd sent her away. Even looking like a cute little frog puppet and knowing that not a lot of women would be fighting to get with him that way.

A slow rage started to build in Scott then. It wasn't a new thing, so he managed to push it back, pretending to be considering the food in front of him. He needed to eat a lot, but had just had lunch, so could nibble for a bit. The Chambers women in the room simply consumed. It was impressive.

Next to him, Becky clasped her hands on the table. She didn't have a plate to get in the way, so it worked.

"After this we should get up to the fifth floor, and say hi. Then, at one-thirty we need to be ready to meet and greet the wicked bitch of the West." She turned to explain this to the others, when Rachel made a face.

It was enough that everyone looked at her.

"Wendy McConnell? I'd heard she was coming. What's the plan? Hide the kids, and make certain she doesn't eat anyone?"

The words got several people to nod. Each with a different rate of speed to it. Becky was doing it fast, and so was Bridget, but Mark was barely moving his head at all.

He didn't seem pleased, but spoke anyway.

"I suppose I could see to that. I don't love her routine, but I'm probably familiar enough to her that she won't feel the need to attack everyone else if I'm there as a target."

Scott nodded back at him, just as slowly, but then smiled a little, trying to make it seem like he was being sympathetic, not patronizing.

"We won't subject you to that, if we can help it. I think Becky is planning to handle that one for us? I have some role as well. Probably the one you just mentioned. Whipping post. I'm public enough that she won't have to struggle too hard to come up with things to attack me about. Less than fun, but I won't let her rip my friends to shreds." For the simple reason that most of them would simply kill her. Even the friendly ones might. Brian could probably handle the strain of it, and so could Mark. That last one would be cruel however, given how hard the man had to struggle to keep from freezing time for everything but himself, day to day.

Wendy the witch would have him phasing out every ten seconds, if not more.

Down the table, near the far end, where she'd been pushed, thanks to an eager Bridget, Penny spoke softly. Strangely, too. Normally the girl was soft spoken and almost shy sounding, now that she'd learned to be seen and heard at all. This time there was an edge to her words. A hard central core to them that wasn't what Scott would expect from her.

"Do you want me to take care of her?" This was spoken to Rachel, who stared back blankly.

Becky was the one that answered, a small smile on her face.

"Not this time. Not here either. Having the woman die on our doorstep would be too suspicious, right? Besides that, she's just a loudmouth and a bigot, not someone we need to kill. Who knows, maybe she'll be on best behavior, once she realizes that the 'evil Infected' have her surrounded?" There was a knowing glance around the table, but no one else spoke, since they knew better than to do that. Penny looked a bit panicked, and vanished suddenly.

Which made it really hard to remember that she'd been there at all. There was a fuzziness that pulled over the conversation after that. They spoke, but the topic went back to sea food for about twenty minutes, until Becky patted his arm.

"We should get to it. We need to warn my old Team about the arrival of hurricane Wendy."

They didn't speak, just getting up and leaving, the seating at the table just a bit off. It wasn't until they were several floors away that he realized what had happened.

"Did... Cellophane use her power?" He waited, still fighting to make sense of it all. It was like the memory of the meal was nearly not there, for some reason.

The ghost girl got off as the express elevator got four floors up, her face smooth and professional looking.

"That she did. She mind fucked you all, too. Even Mark, which is saying something. He normally manages better than that. I think it's the constant meditation thing he does. Brian was far enough away that she didn't get him, which doesn't matter as much there anyway, and that trick never works on me at all."

Scott walked along with her, as she headed, not toward the team leaders space, but the recreation room. Scott didn't go in there a lot, but he'd been at the base for over thirty years, so he knew where everything was.

"She got worried about something? I don't... really remember what it was."

"Oh, yeah, that. I outted her to you guys as the IPB's assassin. Or, well, really she did it to herself. I mean, what the hell, right? If you don't want that kind of thing talked about, you need to keep the lips zipped up. Anyway, she offered to kill Wendy the Witch for us. I said no. Not yet. Don't mention that to anyone. The whole fact that Penny is our attack dog. It's sort of a big deal that she killed Hooper and Stillness in D.C. a few months back. Half a year now? More than that. Time flies when you live in Brian's head." There was a pause and a smack on the back that could barely be felt. "I'm talking too much. I personally blame that on Brian. He's a sweetheart, but damn that boy needs to get out more. At least he and Mary are doing it enough that he's not ready to kill himself. Not that he really was, but it was pretty miserable inside his skull space for a while there. She's just a so-so lay, but at least it's something."

Scott took a breath, then smiled, letting it seem slightly cool and professional.

"She's also my mother. For that matter he's my father. It's hard to imagine, but what I get to live with now. I could go for a long time without hearing about what they do in bed."

"Erm. Yeah, okay, ixnay on the exstay talk there. Got it. Well, I should be able to get my own now, so I won't have to spy on them half as much. Not that I get a choice really. Though I haven't been feeling him all the time, not even a fraction as much as normal, since Chris started this thing earlier, now that I think about it. He's still here, in my head, but it's a lot softer now. Distant. It's sort of nice. I can't even describe how much is constantly going on in there. He always seems so quiet. Almost slow, looking from the outside. That isn't true. He just hides how smart he is from the rest of you."

That made sense, considering everything. He'd have to be brilliant, just to survive his life.

At the door of the television room, Scott stopped to straighten his clothing, and cutely enough, Becky did the same. She was a lot more nervous than he was. That wasn't too hard, since he didn't really feel that way at all, most of the time. These were her old team. Her family, after a fashion.

When they entered no one looked up at first. There were a good dozen people sitting around, including Lobo and Felicia. He looked like a lavender lobster man, and she was pretty much a pteranodon. The rest of them were people he recognized, but didn't have all the names for. They didn't normally mingle a whole lot. The only exception there was Terry Kines, since he was on Team One part time now. As Ice Queen's assistant.

He didn't feel cold. She couldn't help but produce it. It was a brilliant combination, as far as he was concerned. It let her have nearly a normal life. Or as close to that as someone that froze her own toothpaste could have.

Raising his hand as Soar looked over Scott waved.

"Felicia! Lobo! How are you both doing?" It was always a good idea to use some names, if you remembered them. In this case, when everyone else turned to stare at him, it made him seem like he meant to be there and wasn't just lost.

It was the all blue man on the sofa, near the front, that stood and walked over, ignoring him almost totally after the first glance. He nodded at Becky and then swallowed hard.

"A new person? A shape shifter? That might not be the best appearance, if it's something you can help. You look a bit like a friend of ours that died."

She rolled her eyes, then moved in and hugged the man.

"It's me, Becky. Or at least the copy of me that you all know about. I think I'm me, so I suggest people come and give me hugs?"

That got a much slower and more leery reaction than had happened on the ninth floor. Then, those people were Team Three. The most powerful group by far. Maybe the most powerful collection of people on the planet. To them the idea of Becky coming back like this was pretty much their day to day life. It should be for Team Two, except that they were so used to being screwed with mentally that they didn't really trust it.

That meant the ghost had some work to do, before they were going to warm up, totally.

Being helpful, he smiled after she explained the whole thing to them several times.

"It's my understanding that this is the case. This is, at least to the level she said, your old friend. Maybe more than that. No one really knows."

That got the blue man to walk forward and put out a hand, to shake. He was sucked into an embrace anyway, and moved side to side.

"Don't be a little girl, Dave. I'm me. I'm back, and I'm less than half the bitch I used to be. No first mode now, so you get the follow through, I'm just a regular person."

Level, the nine foot tall armored woman that looked a bit like a bug with a brown and black shell, stood up then. The blank black eyes looked totally soulless, but the voice that came out was pretty. Soft and a bit girlish sounding. The contrast was fantastic, each time he noticed it. There were a few moments of careful movement, which ended with the large woman standing right beside him. Reaching out carefully, Dharma got a pat that seemed to rock the girl almost off her feet. Then she did the same to him, as if checking to see if he were real too.

"I don't know. It would be more believable if Prime wasn't here with you. I remember him being a giant dickhead to you." She stopped there at least and didn't accuse him of child molestation. She'd helped to nearly kill him once, over that. It had been thanks to bad information, but she had to know that he wasn't thrilled with her, even now.

At the IPB you had to be willing to put up with people doing things at times that would probably have them arrested in the real world. People got into fights, or attacked others, calling them names, or to do odd things to others, and if your mode could allow you do it, the rule was to try and let things go. So nearly killing him, while it had hit him too close to home, mode wise, making him look weak, was something he could work past. Given time.

Anyone having thought that he'd actually have sex with his own child... No. That part was too much to forgive. The trick there was to not let it show. Eventually there was going to be a reckoning there. He and Char had discussed it, after they'd briefly left the IPB. Most people thought that they'd come back for the normal reason. No one else would take them, being Infected. It wasn't totally wrong, and that had been part of why they'd returned when they did. The rest of it was so that they could plot to take their enemies down. It would have to be done carefully and over time, but it would happen.

Even if he hadn't had a first mode at all, it would have. They'd all branded him a monster, and tried to kill him over it. Worse, none of them even bothered to hang their heads in shame now. Not that he could tell.

It wasn't that all of them were evil. He wasn't that petty or foolish. Kerry, who was on Mark's cooking show with him and Denis, was sweet, once she realized that he really hadn't done what people had claimed. Or, to be more exact, she was willing to let the idea go. Her own history that way probably made it so that she'd simply believed that all fathers slept with their girls. It had been the world she'd grown up with after all.

It nearly excused her having attacked him too. She was really just trying to do what was right. Most of them were. They'd just been tricked.

The thing there was that, when he walked in with the ghost of their long dead friend, they were skeptical and probing. They searched for the trap there, and watched carefully, not trusting the new situation too easily. When someone had made up some lies about him, they'd all flown into action without even waiting.

So they deserved to die. Most of them did, at any rate.

None of this came to his face, since he had to look strong in front of them. It was only expected. On the good side, no one paid all that much attention to him. He let it all go on for a few minutes and then waved his hand a bit, catching their awareness. Quickly too. Near the back of the room Crandall, the white haired super-soldier, and all around annoyance, glared at him. His hand even started to reach for the sword on his back.

If he went for it, then Scott could kill him. More than most, even in that room, Crandall deserved it.

The man was perhaps the only person on Team Two that he could kill without the others blaming him for it instantly. He was that much of a troublemaker. No one liked him at all. He couldn't even manage to be civil enough for one other person to be willing to give him a pass. That was rare, on the base. People forgave almost everything, and other than a few people that just couldn't take the strain of the idea, everyone had at least a few friends.

A slightly larger smile came to his golden cheeks then, as he regarded the man coolly. True, Prime wasn't the best fighter in the world, but there weren't a lot of people that could take him out either. Class five meant something. Crandall was a class three, he thought. Maybe a four. A tough one, but not really able to stand against someone nearly two classes above him.

The man flowed forward, the blade freeing from the sheath. It was a nice silver thing that had a dark edge on the back of it. That was due to the composition of the steel having more carbon than most such things did, Scott thought. Not that metallurgy was a hobby of his. As the distance narrowed, he didn't bother getting a blast of force ready, just turning sideways a little bit. A single punch would end this well enough, if he did it right. It had to be an angled uppercut. Using the man's own momentum, it would break his neck. That wasn't enough to kill him, but if Prime moved in fast enough, he could cave in Crandall's skull and kill him beyond even his ability to heal from the damage. That or sever his spine.

Except that he didn't get a chance at all.

Becky moved forward, a lot faster than a regular person would ever be able to, and kicked him in the groin. It looked hard, and a realistic smacking sound was made. The white haired and blank eyed man stopped, dropping as soon as she hit him again. It was really Christian doing it all, but the whole thing looked right.

"Cut that out, dickweed. We have work to do and I won't let you mess up Prime's pretty suit. We have Wendy McConnell coming in, so you all need to hide. Stay here, and get the others to do the same. All night. She's staying in town, but will be up on one all day and might want a tour. That's an order, too, not just a suggestion. No going to the movie theater or the PX, got it? This is to keep her alive. She almost certainly has a plan to cause trouble, so if you can, stay out of attack range. If you have to be near her, then limit your exposure. Pretend she's toxic."

That wouldn't be hard. Everyone in the room knew who she was. She'd literally written books about how evil they were. It wasn't just them either. She hated liberals, and babies too. There was a rumor that she used to be a man, but that wasn't true. She was just so negative that it was hard for most people to think of it being possible for an un-Infected woman. Worse, she was actually pretty, in an anorexic way.

It confused a lot of people, since they couldn't help but think that good looking meant good.

Crandall managed to jump up, rolling to the side as he did it, getting his sword back. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, he headed for Scott. It managed to take the others off guard, except for Terry, who got a shout off.

"Crandall, no!"

It was too late. The blade was sharp, and the cutting motion found the outer gap in his armor, at the joint near the shoulder. The pain was icy, at first. When it hit bone, it stopped, since those were reinforced too.

Smiling, Scott followed the plan he'd come up with, and hit the man, as hard as he could, at a forty-five degree angle to the jaw. That was enough to send the man, blade and all, flying across the room. His neck made a satisfying popping sound. He followed him, getting to the body and batting the sword from the air sending it flying, managing to hit the man again. It was to the upper chest, which wasn't going to be fatal. The man healed far too fast for that. So did Scott, which was nice. His hurt arm was already repairing the damaged muscle. Not the skin yet, since that would be last and take a few minutes.

The blank white eyes looked up at him, dumbly. His body flew into the floor, hard, as Scott simply slapped his face with his injured arm. It was a weak and awkward move, but the contrasting forces ripped the head to the other side, totally severing the spine. There was a single gasp, and then the man spasmed, kicking a bit. He wet himself, too, as he died.

Standing up, he tried not to look guilty, or proclaim himself innocent. He'd meant to kill the man, but Scott had been under attack at the time. The law said that he had the right to answer possibly lethal force in kind. Infected or not.

Becky stood back, and grimaced, sounding annoyed. It was nearly out of place.

"Well, fuck. That's going to be a pain to hide. Especially since he was put here to spy on us for the military. Well, it's all on video, so we can't cover it up. Way to go, Prime. Couldn't you have at least taken him past the wire first? Now we'll probably be invaded." She stopped and cocked her head to the side, then stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes. It was almost like she was trying to be funny. The room didn't seem to get the joke, if so. "Right, well, Brian and the Director will handle this. I don't suppose anyone wants to help out? We need to get medical up here. Um..."

She looked around and then waved at Terry.

"Mongo, can you get with Debbie and see to the body? We need it preserved. Don't talk about it, just have her freeze it and get it to someplace dark. He has some kind of tracking implant. Probably listening devices too. They won't be able to pick me up, thanks to my super ghost powers, so..."

The man stroked his beard, which was a reddish brown, and then spoke slowly.

"Aye. Crandall just tried to kill Prime, right in front of us. We need medical. Lauren, can you get that going? I'll see to the body for them, if they can't bring him back."

It was a bit strained in the room, but Scott still had to fight a smile.

That was one of his enemies down. Finally. It felt good. Better than he'd thought it would.

Chapter four

"Try not to look like a smug asshole, Prime. The boss is coming. Brian too, and he really doesn't need this today. None of us do." Becky wanted to make her stance clear, possibly with a kick to the crotch like she'd hit Crandall the corpse with, but didn't have to. The lovely lavender eyed Adonis actually managed to school his face before he turned around. He even seemed sad.

It wasn't over the top, but she had to admire the work. When she turned she saw Brian and Karen walking with a purpose. They were standing in the hallway, since the medical team had kicked everyone from the television room. It was a bit of a cluster, so she moved toward them, noticing that Director Moore was coming too, along with Charlot Chambers.

They all hurried, and the mean PR lady didn't stop until she got to her husband. Her voice was cold and pissy, even as she looked at the sword wound on his arm.

"What did you do?"

Before he could speak, Lauren did. She was standing back a good way, and her face was blank. The soft voice cracked when she spoke, but the words weren't half as accusing as they could have been.

"Crandall tried to kill him. He attacked twice. The first time Becky stopped him, but he got up, and then Prime killed him. Only after he'd been hit, so it was self-defense." No tears showed on the outside of her armor, the black eye coverings dry, like always. Inside might have been a very different story, from the sound of things.

Shrugging, Becky moved to the Director. It was his job to handle this kind of thing, not hers.

"Yeah. I mean, it was pretty clear that Prime didn't have to do it, but the video will look like that. Like it was in the heat of the moment. So one spy down, the hard way. I asked Terry to get Ice Queen to freeze the corpse. It's loaded with gear that's transmitting to the outside. The lab geeks are going to want to take a peek at it. Maybe do an autopsy too. I've always wondered what all they'd done to him, haven't you?"

The older man closed his eyes, then pretended she wasn't there. It might have been that he was just busy, or didn't want to give away everything she'd just said. Or it could have been that he was a ghost bigot. The man got into things with her friend Brian enough that she was willing to think the worst of him that way.

He moved in and barked orders for a while, but let Debbie go and touch the body to freeze it when she and Terry got back. It was a good plan, and no one really seemed to doubt that Crandall had been put there as a spy. Possibly a saboteur, too. Regardless, Brian had beaten the man down twice already, to prevent him from killing other people. One of those had been Prime, come to think of it. So there was a history of the man trying to attack him.

She noticed that Crandall hadn't been saved at all, this time. It probably meant that the man had been slated to die, but that her lovey-dovey boy Bri-Bri had failed to get the job done earlier. He was too sweet that way, at times. So Prime had to step in and get it done. It wasn't what she would have figured the plan to be, but it was there in the data, if she looked at it. Clear, if only in hindsight.

A lot of things, even unexpected ones, had strings like that. Connections to Brian that didn't make logical sense, but were still right there. Influencing the whole world. Most people didn't get how much that was true, seeing it from the outside. Chris knew, but tried to ignore it as much as she could. The idea probably scared her. The alternative was worse, so she put up with it. They either faced death and destruction now, and Brian won against Braid, or the Timberland woman won, and nearly a billion regular people would die.

That was the kicker. Their side, Brian's way through the future, was the one that would save most of humanity. Braid's was what happened if the bigots got their way. It seemed backwards and almost no one would have believed it if they were told, but it was the truth.

Of course, that the biggest threat to the world was basically an alien menace probably wouldn't be trusted anyway. She was a super psychic from Hobbs and Mary's world. Insane, but smart anyway. Not that they weren't going to win, in the end. The game had shifted, thanks to Penny and Trivia. Their spy on the inside.

She'd fed them enough information that several of Braid's key people had been taken out over the last year. Not that she didn't have backups in place, but they were second or third string, compared to the monsters she'd started with. Most of the new people probably weren't even Infected. That didn't mean they weren't dangerous, just that they didn't have direct powers. Of course, she didn't either, now, and was still managing to be a player in the game. It kind of showed that it didn't pay to underestimate anyone.

After all, she was dead, and still managed to do some pretty useful shit.

Brian looked at her, and didn't speak. That was habit, as far as it went. Talking to her made him look crazy, or had. She waved in his face a bit, and then smiled at her sister.

"He keeps forgetting that everyone can see me. We still have to deal with the incoming dignitaries. Unless this is a good enough excuse to send them away? At least the one that doesn't work for the government? Huh? Huh?" Her words were playful and she moved in to nudge Kare's shoulder with her own. That just got her to lean back, and then shake her head slowly.

"It's too late. I doubt we can send Scott in now. It's a bit much to ask for him to go from this to putting up with her this soon. Who else do we have that can do it? I might have to subject poor Senator Roberts to her. I'd really rather avoid that, if I could. Who can do it though? We're out of people that won't either collapse under the strain, or kill her."

That was probably true enough, if they were counting only the old pro's for the job. They actually had someone that could take all the witch had, and more, without doing more than seeming bland about it. The trouble there was that he was new. After a fashion. He'd been at the base for about six months.

"Doug." She looked at the rest of them and then the Director, who made a face. "Doug Tibs. He's solid, looks normal enough and has a good first mode for this. Really, he should have been our first choice. I just forgot how good he is under pressure. Mea culpa, he's new. Putting anyone else in on this is probably brain damaged. He can't feel anger or annoyance." She very carefully didn't look at Brian, willing him not to support her in this one.

After all, the guy was his oldest friend, so the Director would probably think that any support from there would be nepotism. That would get him to try and shut things down, but they really didn't have anyone better for the job at the moment. Brian, being her mind bitch, did what she'd thought at him. He was wonderfully good that way.

"I don't know, Doug's a bit raw for that, isn't he? I mean, maybe if we put him with Roberts? Not that I love the idea of forcing McConnell on you, Karen, but you have a lot more experience in things like this." He looked at her, his face practically begging.

That got compassion girl to react without even knowing she was doing it. Which was perfect.

"I... Yes, we can do that."

The Director went slightly still, and then shook his head the tiniest bit.

"No... I think that Miss Young, Becky, was correct. Mr. Tibs is the right man for this situation. His natural aptitudes will hold him in good stead. Will you work with him on that?" Now he looked at her, showing that he was at least only a partial ghost bigot. He didn't even refer to her as "girl", or call her a spook.

She nodded, happy that her off the cuff manipulation plan worked as well as it had. Karen looked crestfallen, because to her mind she was dooming her new friend, Doug, to a true horror show. The truth was that the young and still mildly plump man was more than McConnell's equal for this one.

"I'll go and get with him. Send Prime along, once you decide that it was really self-defense. Unless he's too worked up. Brian, can you see to that? Make sure he's ready to play nice and all that? What Crandall was thinking, I don't know. That was about as stupid a thing as I've ever seen. Like a first mode being triggered? Or, I don't know, orders?"

There was nothing in her head, or Brian's that said that. It just felt right. She could have instincts still, she decided. Now it just remained to see if they were right or not.

She floated away, after a manner of speaking. It was closer to teleportation, which took her directly to Doug, who was valiantly jogging around the track on the fourteenth floor at the moment. He was coated with sweat, but had a nice even breathing pattern going. Without bothering to make her clothing seem to alter at all, still wearing a skirt and pumps, she caught up to him easily. Seeming to be jogging, slowly.

He looked over at her, and blinked. "Um, hello."

There was an innocence to the man that she'd always liked. Not that she'd spoken directly to him before. Not in any way he knew about.

"Hey, Gravity. We have a mission in half an hour. Get showered and into a suit for a meet and greet. I'll brief you while you do that. This is the big show." She managed to sound official, rather than like someone pranking the man.

"A mission? Interesting. I didn't know I was on tap for anything. Is this something new?"

She debated making something up, so that her new partner wouldn't be scattered or nervous, but then decided not to bother. He was Doug. Brian's oldest friend, which meant, no matter what, that she was going to like him too. It might even have been mandatory, living in his brain and all that. Linked to him on a level that very few people ever could be. That she was time sharing with Chris now probably meant they were secretly married in Latvia or something.

"Prime was set for the job, but just killed Crandall from Team Two. It was clear self-defense, but this is a delicate mission, so the Director asked for you specifically. Wendy McConnell is coming in? Do you know who she is?"

That got a head shake, but he moved toward the shower of to the left, not going to his room first. That was a good sign.

"No. I don't suppose she's an attractive actress? I finally lost all that weight, or almost, and they still hardly let me off the base at all. It makes meeting new people hard." He grinned a bit, and looked away, seeming a little shy. "Oh, I didn't get your name? I'm Doug, which you seem to know. I don't think we've met?"

"Rebecca Young. Code name Dharma. We have met, sort of." She waited, but he didn't catch on. That was probably down to the fact that Brian almost never told people that he heard a ghost girl all the time. As if they didn't all think he was gonzo already? "I'm a ghost. Literally. You can see me now because Christian Pours is linking us. Most of the time I'm linked to Brian. I know you've been told about me, since I was there at the time."

They just went into the shower area, where he had a pair of clean sweats waiting in a basket. New shoes and socks too. He started to take his shirt off, but then stopped, looking at her, with his face turning red.

"I'll... just be a minute?"

She giggled, not able to help it. "Or I can turn my back. Point taken. I'll be good, and let you preserve some dignity." Turning she waited for him to get into the shower, and didn't peek, since that would make him think she wasn't trustworthy. Speaking up to be heard over the water, she started. "Wendy McConnell is a conservative talk show favorite. She's mainly an author that writes about how to best hate people. So she is pretty famous, in a way. Pretty too. Also so hard to get along with, at least in public, that Karen doesn't want to risk exposing Senator Roberts to her. So we get the job. For the most part it's just going to be showing her around, nodding a lot and agreeing with her, no matter what she says. Brian figures this to be a set-up. Possibly one with confederates. So we need to be careful."

Doug made washing sounds behind her, not answering or speaking at all for a minute. When he finally went, it took her slightly by surprise.

"Got it. So I'm supposed to subdue her with my super power of not giving a damn, and then what? Get her into bed?" The last bit was a little dark sounding.

She mimicked the tone, without being mocking at all. "Yeah. If you can. Let her call you names and then do whatever she wants with you, if you can manage it without dying. We can't afford to have any kind of bad press right now, and she may well be willing to use anything we do, or don't do, against us. Let her offer, if it comes to it. If you ask her if she wants a tumble and she says no, then that will make us look bad. So, you know, use your charm, but don't try to score with her directly."

That got a snort, and then a cough, since it was clear he'd managed to suck in a snout full of water.

"Sure thing. I'll make sure I only turn the charm up to five. We wouldn't want to overwhelm her."

Becky got the sarcasm, but ignored it. After all, Doug wasn't exactly a mega-hottie, but he was ninety percent of the way to fit and cleaned up nice enough in a suit. Instead she snorted back.

"That's about what we need. So pretty much, be polite, take any abuse with a straight face and try not to crush her like a ripe melon. That's your power right?"

She knew the whole answer, but pretending not to gave them something to chat about to take his mind off of his impending doom. Not that he seemed to understand what was coming yet. The poor, foolish, little man.

"I make things heavy, I make them light. I can control the direction of the effect now too, which is neat, since it means I can fly. Pretty fast too. Like, two hundred miles an hour? Now is when you tell me that speed turns you on and that you secretly yearn for my man flesh." There was an embarrassed chuckle, which ruined the perfectly good banter a little. That was due to the long term pity club that Brian and Doug had going on. That was her take on it at least. They were both decent enough looking to get dates, but seemed like they just didn't get that. Even when they had women.

"Nope. Not at all. I can freaking teleport. Ghost you know? If you want to impress me, show me your conservative attack dog wrangling skills. That will get me going. I mean, talk about hot."

He laughed, and turned the water off. The soft sounds that came out had to have been him getting dry. After a bit he padded out, and dressed, not saying anything until he was done.

"I don't have any skills like that. Well, I suppose it would be creepy to hit on a ghost anyway." There was a decently charming grin to go with the words. "Not that I'd let that stop me. We should go out sometime. If nothing else you can go around telling the rest of the women here how great I am, which will help my reputation."

Dharma blinked. That had sounded nearly confident. It was shocking. She was too used to Brian always being down on himself and had lumped his friend into the package too.

"Sure. There's a new movie playing at the base theater. Something about cartoon bugs? We can go see that. You're paying."

Doug nodded, then started to walk past her. "Those are free, aren't they?"

"Yep. Still, there's a principle here. I expect to be treated well, you get me?"

"Oh. Okay." He didn't even smile then, just walking out into the gym, tossing his damp clothing and towel into the hamper for such things. There were two of them, side by side. One for work out clothing, the other for towels. They were tan, and the wire ring around the top of the one on the left was bent a little.

Then they went up to the first floor, so he could change into a decent dark blue suit, with a black tie, and shiny shoes. He had to put makeup on, which she resisted teasing him about. It was required for everyone on Team One, and making him feel ashamed about it wouldn't help anything at all. It really did help him seem combat ready, given the target.

Then they went to the tarmac, outside the large glass and steel building. It had been a lot different when she was alive. Back then the surface portion had seemed like a tiny ranger's station. It was camouflage, and had sort of worked for a long time. Now it looked like art. The expensive kind. That was a very different kind of statement, she knew. Before they'd hidden from the world. Now they were telling them that they were a part of things. Still in the middle of nowhere, but not hiding anymore. As far as she could tell it hadn't made a real difference either way.

Karen, the Director, and Brian's secret girlfriend Marcia were all standing in the waiting box. It was just a black outline painted on the ground, designed to keep them out of harm's way. Doug had been in it enough to pick up on the idea, and walked over directly.

Out of the people there, it was only Ms. Turner, the Deputy Director that didn't get who she was instantly. That was clear from the way she stared. Becky gave her a nod, and noticed that she was in a soft blue dress that day. It worked for her. She was only a bit past average looking through the face, like Becky herself was. She made up for it by having a model's body. Thin, except in the right places, with short curly hair and flawless everything.

The part where she was Brian's secret girlfriend was a joke that Penny Cooper had made once. Marcia was a fantastic fighter, and so powerful that not many people could hurt her at all, so she was the one set to work with Proxy each day. It was just that she managed to ogle, grope and grind up against the man so much that it was obvious to anyone else in the world that she was jonesing for some lovin' there. The only person that didn't get it was Brian.

Really, if Mary hadn't come onto the scene when she had, Becky would have suggested it. Turner was nice enough, and while a bit intense when it came to work, not a bad person at all. Paranoid as all hell, but that was pretty much her first mode, so couldn't be helped.

It was pretty clear that just nodding wasn't going to do the trick that day, since Marcia moved over a bit too quickly, putting herself between Moore and Becky, not stopping until she was nearly three feet away.

Then she frowned.

"You look familiar. I don't know you, so... name?"

"Becky Young. Ghost. I'm being projected into your head by Christian Pours. Now, give me a hug, Marcia. It feels real."

To everyone's amazement, she did it. Then she looked at the others after pulling back, her face still suspicious.

"So, is this real, or should we be looking for someone that's messing with our heads?"

Given their life it would probably be the last one, so Becky didn't try to proclaim her own innocence and validity. She let Brian do it.

"It's her. Chris has been setting this up for a while. They figured that if Becky was going to be around all the time, we might as well put her to work." He went on for a while, but after a bit Marcia seemed to ramp down the paranoid glaring. By at least half. It was a relief, since having her flailing at an innocent ghost while the plane landed would be hard to explain.

Doug looked at her and then over at Marcia, his face fixed in a pretty bland expression.

"See, that's why I don't get paid the big bucks. I heard ghost girl and my first thought was, 'who you gonna' call'. Ms. Turner sees her, and tries to find out if we're under attack. I guess I have a lot to learn, don't I?"

Becky reached out and patted his shoulder, since she could. In life she hadn't been half as touchy-feely, but having not been able to touch anyone but Brian for the last year left her keenly aware of how important that kind of contact could be. She reveled in the feel of the jacket under hand. The rise and fall of Doug's chest. For a little while she got lost in it and almost missed Karen talking.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much. Marsh has many wonderful traits, but she can be a bit untrusting until she knows you well." That was said for Becky's benefit, she could tell.

Her sister trying to make sure that she wasn't insulted by the scrutiny. It was both nice and polite, as well as unneeded. Turner had been around back in her day after all. Still it was better than her sister just waving it all away, if not much.

Becky grinned, looking at Marcia, and then Doug.

"No shit. Plus, Douglas here scored a date inside ten minutes. Turner hasn't even asked yet. That's a bit slow off the mark, Marcia. I'd be insulted, if I was into girls at all. Just so you know. For the future."

That got a few snorts, and a chuckle from the Director, as Ms. Turner shrugged.

"You expect me to step on Doug's toes like that? He's on my team after all. Team One supports their own."

Brian leaned over, his thin frame looking hard, even under the black fatigues he wore while on duty. His definition had definition now. It had moved into the realm of almost unreal looking, since all the fat had been stripped from his body. He was back to being un-scarred at least, thanks to the work of a healer he knew. Mary's friend Elizabeth.

"What the heck? Ten minutes in and you're dating the girl that lives in my head? That's fast work. How did you pull that one off?" The look he was giving his buddy was a bit less than totally friendly, but he wasn't feeling jealous, just worried that Becky was playing with his friend.

She shrugged, then pretended to straighten her clothing. It didn't have any wrinkles, or lint, but it looked right.

"He asked. Funny thing, I can touch people now and the first good looking guy that bothered to suggest we go out gets taken up on it. Plus, I'm pretty sure that Christian won't mind too much if we kiss at the end of the date. She has to feel what I do, I'm pretty sure."

There was a plane in the distance, coming toward them pretty directly. Sometimes that happened, if they were coming into the third landing strip. That was for light planes, not jets. This one was a mid-sized thing. A commuter style plane, but large for that landing strip. Too much so, she thought.

"Hey, uh... Landing on three? Is that right? Won't they run out of-" She didn't get to finish the words.

Mainly due to the fact that the thing, while dropping, clearly wasn't making the needed turn. It was headed for the building, not anything else. Turner grunted.

"Fuck on a cracker."

It was nearly funny, but Doug answered her as if the Deputy Director was speaking to him directly, even as Kevin Moore, the super human that was known as Less, due to his ability to make anything vanish, raised his hand.

Doug's voice was a bit panicked.

"Well, okay. I mean, if you want to. You get the cracker side though. That sounds like it would itch." It was horribly inappropriate, but he got his hand up first, and the plane jerked straight up, nearly five hundred feet. The engines whined, but the whole thing was barely creeping forward, even as Gravity started to sweat.

"I... can't do this long." There was a softly panicked tone to the words. "Can one of you teleport up there and see what's going on? I can give you... Call it a minute?"

Brian willed himself to move, but nothing happened, which Becky could have told him was the case. It was for the same reason that he hadn't traded places with anyone on the aircraft to save them already. He either couldn't, or, more likely, no one was up there to die at all.

She however, could go. It took a moment of focus, and she vanished, into her normal state. That had to be Chris letting her go for a bit. She floated upward, flying after a fashion, if very fast. It didn't feel like anything in particular, since she wasn't really moving. There was nothing to move. So about ten seconds later she was on the plane.

It was empty. Or, not really, being packed with explosives all along the walls. The key was that there weren't any people on it. Not even a pilot. She checked twice, but no one was even hiding.

She focused a bit, and was next to Brian again. Then, after a few seconds, everyone turned to her. Christian kicking her back into reality, she guessed.

"Loaded with explosives, but there's no one on board. An attack drone, I guess. A huge, freaking killer robot. We should get footage of this. Anyone have a camera on their cell phone?" That got the Director to stare at her, and Marcia to actually do it, pulling her cell out.

"Good plan. Let me get this set up. I never use this function. Karen, give me a hand here?"

It took them a bit, as Doug and the airplane both strained, the thing moving away slowly. A few miles per hour, tops. Smoke was starting to come from the wings, which were working hard trying to adjust to the new forces. That meant it was either being controlled remotely, or the computer on board was really advanced.

The Director pointed again, and watched the ladies closely.

"When you signal, Mr. Tibs, I'll neutralize the threat. This attack is a drone of some kind. Fortunately we were able to search the craft first, before this happened. It's loaded with explosives, you say, Mr. Yi?"

Right, because the video wouldn't have her on it.

Brian didn't need to be prompted twice.

"All through the back. A lot of it. If Doug tried to set it down here we'll all die. It's supposed to have Senator Roberts and Wendy McConnell on it. They aren't. We have to assume they've been taken."

The best part was, no matter how corny the actual words were, it came out sounding dire and dark, since Brian had the range of an old bullhorn. Loud when he needed, rough, no matter what.

Doug waited for a moment, then gasped, since holding a plane in place took some doing.

"We have to do it now. I can't hold it anymore." Which was true. There was blood pouring from his nose, for all that he sounded pretty calm about it all. A bit scared and jazzed, but not that much.

Then, almost as if it had never been there at all, it was gone.

That was a relief, but also a pain in the ass. Hopefully they had some good pictures of it, because otherwise it was going to be hard to prove that anything happened at all. Worse, they needed to find Senator Roberts fast, the crew too. Becky sighed.

"Get on the phone. We need to see if people just missed their flight, or what. I'm getting nothing about this one. Brian?" There wasn't anything in his mind, as far as that went. She knew that, but didn't know what else to say.

Her head space roomie shrugged. It was an artless thing, and told her nothing at all. Finally he spoke.

"We need a guard out here. All the time now. People that can repel-" He looked at the horizon, as if expecting more planes. "God only knows what. Marcia and I will take the first watch. Get with Bridgie and tell her that she's on the next one. Doug, if you didn't hemorrhage your brain, can you stand the one after that?"

The man in the slightly ruined blue suit shook his head, as if sleepy. The blood was down to a trickle, which was better than it had been for a minute there. He had a piece of blue cloth shoved under his nose. That was, she understood, the front half of Marcia's dress.

"I'll be here. I feel like crap right now though. I think I'm going to hurl. Sorry." He rushed away, making it a good thirty feet from them before whatever his lunch had been hit the ground. Karen ran to him, as if nothing in the world could be more important than the sick man at the moment.

It was enough that Becky made a face at her.

"No, I'm with Doug. Karen, you have to help find the Senator. I'd do it, but I can't make any calls. I'll set up the watch for later. Director Moore..." She nearly froze, but then looked at the sky, her face blank. "What do you need for this?"

There was a disgusted expression on his face as he turned to walk away.

"I'll take a miracle, if you have one handy?"

Unfortunately, she didn't.

Chapter five

The trick to being Prime was a simple enough thing. All Scott had to do most days was smile, and pretend that only he mattered. At least that was what used to work for him. It was all about putting yourself forward in a way that seemed powerful. In charge of everything.

To most people that meant coming across like a bit of an egotist.

They didn't realize it, but power, in the minds of most, was all about perception. Narcissists were sought out to be leaders. Not because they were the best ones to rule. That was almost never the case. Most just couldn't help but think that anyone willing to act like that had to have something going on inside.

Today, Scott realized that wouldn't work. Not with the people that knew him. Too many had already clearly understood what he'd done to Crandall. It was murder. The trick, in that moment, was to make himself seem like a victim. That was going to be hard. As he sat in front of the two agents that were taking his statement, his first mode screamed at him. Making it nearly impossible to seem humble or even contrite.

So he was going to have to try something totally different.

"Agent Lancaster, I knew what I was doing would kill him. At least on some level. I'm not really capable of fear, but he was going to kill me, if he could. It didn't matter how I felt. No one that was there thinks he was coming over to apologize to me. The first strike he used would have killed most people." That was, on the surface, all true.

It came across that way, even with Martin Joabs standing behind the two black suited men. The agents always managed to convey a sense of strength. It was the colors they wore. Black and white. Stark things that seemed like people ready to go to a funeral. That wasn't on accident either. The IPB had picked the various uniforms their personnel wore to fit the tasks they performed. The various Infected wore different things, based on what they did. Team Two had matching blue jumpsuits. Team One got individual, but fanciful costumes meant to draw the eye, and reassure people that they were mostly harmless.

Team Three wore whatever the heck they wanted. Normally they were in sweats, or North American daily wear. If you passed them on the street, the idea was that you wouldn't notice them much at all. The problem there was that most of them were famous now.

It was the Agents that needed to seem intimidating, so they got to dress for success in that area. It wasn't working on him. Knowing that they couldn't really hurt him took a lot of their threat away. Even trying to lock him up wasn't going to work. Not because he was a class five, or even Prime either.

In this case he was simply in the right.

"Let's go over this again-" Agent Lancaster was in charge of his section, and used to people doing what he asked of them. So he seemed a bit shocked when Scott raised his right hand.

"I don't think that's really needed, is it gentlemen? We have this all on tape. It's pretty clear that Crandall was trying to kill me, and also clear that my first mode means that I can't sit here and act innocent, even if I am. Trying to get me to make a mistake isn't useful. You already know what happened. So, unless you have something new for me?" It was heavy handed. Enough that Lancaster glared at him, and Agent Burkes sighed, shaking his head slowly.

Not speaking at all. Just watching Scott as if he were going to turn on them.

It was the lead Agent that went on.

"This isn't about right or wrong, Scott. We need to check your mental state. We'd have medical in here to do it, but they're all too scared that you've lost it. What we need to know is this; are you planning to kill anyone else here on the base?" There was a tired look to the man. World weary. His eyes were bloodshot, and he'd been losing weight over the last months, as things had gotten more tense for the IPB.

He was still in good physical condition, with rippling muscles and almost no body fat. That meant he'd been losing muscle mass. People only did that when they were sick, or really near to losing it. Scott was willing to bet on the second one. Darryl Lancaster was mentally too tough to let things get to him, normally. Lately things had just been hammering the man.

All of them, if he were going to be clear about the idea. That he, Prime, even noticed things like that would probably have surprised a lot of people. He wasn't a genius, but that didn't mean stupid either. The IPB was his life and had been for even longer than the men in front of him had worked there. Very few people had been around as long as he had. They forgot that too often.

For instance, he knew that Martin, who was standing back and looking relaxed, wasn't afraid of him at all. In fact, the man had been around for over two decades, which meant he knew the score too. He got that Scott was trying to play him. To baffle his ability to tell when a person was lying.

So did Darryl, which was why he'd finally gotten around to asking that last bit. Most people had probably thought that "Prime the airhead" had forgotten how they'd attacked and maligned him. Lancaster wouldn't. Burkes either. They'd both been there, on the day. Watching it all. More than that, they were both warriors. Fighters that wouldn't eat that kind of crap themselves. So they just figured that he was hunting the others. It was very close to what either of them would have done if the roles were reversed, so it made sense to them.

They were right, but it was inconvenient at the moment.

Scott spread his hands and smiled. It would seem about as genuine as it felt, which wasn't very much at all.

"Is anyone else planning to attack me? Perhaps you should be putting that question to everyone else? It's happened before. Did they get this kind of treatment, back then? I don't recall hearing about that." It was a deflection, but Lancaster just gave him a slow blink, like he didn't care. Burkes winced a little.

He still didn't speak. Neither did the older black man standing behind them. In fact, for a while, no one did.

Lancaster sighed, and then pretended to read the papers in front of him. They were in a manila folder. A lot of things at the IPB were. That was due to the fact that Kevin Moore was pushing his mid-seventies and hadn't adapted to the new technology yet. Not totally. He used e-mail, but hadn't gotten the idea that most records could be stored on a computer. To him that was too risky, so he kept to what he'd always done. Paper. It would have been faster and more efficient to upgrade to at least an in-house reader for files. Scott had suggested it, but no one had taken his idea to heart.

The Agent gave him a second slow blink, which was a calming ritual that Scott had noticed before.

"That isn't relevant to this current situation, Mr. Chambers. We need to know your intentions."

Scott shrugged and leaned back, letting his suit jacket pull across his muscular shoulders a bit. That was on purpose. A subtle reminder of who they were dealing with. He wasn't just some Infected scum to take out back and shoot. They had to deal with him respectfully. If they didn't, there would be problems. Mainly ones that he had no way of really controlling. His mode would see to that. They knew it, too, which put them in a bind. If they pushed him too rudely, he'd fight.

If they didn't, then they wouldn't get the information they thought they wanted.

He regarded the man across the white topped interrogation table. It was in a small wood paneled room on the second floor, where the business office and press work got done. That made it a place so familiar to Scott that they might as well have been doing all of this in his own rooms.

"Agent Lancaster, I'm not a precog. I don't know what will happen in the future. Do you? If so, then you won't need for me to answer about things I can't know. If not, then how can you expect me to answer?"

That one got an eye roll.

"Stop playing games Scott. We all know that you came back here to take some people out. I'm just surprised that it took you this long to get anyone. We get it. I understand how that event had to leave you feeling. Is your plan just to take everyone out, one by one? Or do you have something else in store?" The head Agent leaned in, his face serious.

That was fine, but didn't intimidate him. It wouldn't. The man seemed to understand that after a bit. He even got that trying to make a power play, or intimidate, Scott just wasn't a good plan. Part of that was the uneasy shifting from Burkes. Of all the people at the base, with the exception of Moore, Burkes was the one that knew the most about him. They'd worked together for years. The man seemed almost ready to draw down on him. It was the go-to move for anxious Agents.

Shoot first, and search the body for clues.

If they tried it, then they'd both die, right there. The men hadn't been part of the fight, or openly accused him of molesting his daughter. No, they'd just stood by and let it happen. That might not be worth killing them over. Not after the fact. Neither of them had tried to clear him either. They'd just guarded Moore, and let the slander go on.

Out of all of them, only Martin had helped him at all. He could tell if a person was lying, and after Brian had ordered him to be found, had done just that. Ellen Doer, too. Even Christian Pours. The thing there was that no one had thought to check that first, had they? They'd all been so willing to simply think that he would have sex with Bridget that it made sense to them.

A slow rage built again, thinking about it all. It was post-traumatic stress, he knew. The psych people had mentioned it, before he'd stopped going to them with his problems. They were all supposed to talk to someone, regularly. It had become too apparent that they were on to him, and his plan to kill people, so Scott had removed himself from their observation. That was probably why Lancaster was giving him the stink eye. The file in front of him had the pattern of the notes that Doctor Tull always used. Hand written, with short paragraphs.

He'd seen her writing for long enough to recognize it now, even upside down.

Nodding, he smiled. "I'm not playing games, Agent Lancaster. You are. This was self-defense, and you're trying to make it into something else. Answer this, what would you have done if Crandall had been coming for you?" He looked at his shoulder, the blood dried now and the wound healed. "Can you honestly tell me that it wouldn't have been stopping him as well as you were able? We both know that would be a lie, don't we?"

"I'm not on trial here, Chambers." He said it a bit angrily. Then he understood the mistake in the words. It showed on his face.

"Neither am I. We have the video. So, I'm going now. You have the data you need, and the rest of this is just some kind of witch hunt. I didn't think you hated us for being Infected Darryl. Or is it just me that you hate? I seem too annoying, and self-assured for you? I know that might challenge your alpha male self-image a bit. It's just how I am. You know that too, so pushing me like this is a personal issue for you. Otherwise you wouldn't be doing it." A lot of people, especially men, actually felt like that, so it was a good guess. One that was normally correct.

Not that Lancaster was a secret bigot. If a regular human could get past that at all, then he certainly did. It was the rest of it that was the real issue. In a world without Infected people, Darryl Lancaster would be one of the most dangerous people in the world. If he walked into a room of angry regular human gang members, only he would walk out.

In that room the dynamics were just too different. Scott functionally couldn't be hurt by a person like him. The other way around wasn't true at all. Worse, his first mode meant that challenging him in the wrong way could set off violence, given the stress of the situation. That would get to the man too. He had to back down, and had been called on things that he simply wouldn't want to address.

So he stood up suddenly, and flipped the table up, into Scott's face. It was a move that Prime hadn't seen coming at all. It was ridiculous, but also a sign of the stress they'd all been under for too long now.

That was batted out of the way easily enough, but the action gave the agent time to pull his side arm, which was a forty-five. Three bullets hit Scott's face, knocking him backward, as Burkes pulled his weapon and did the same thing. It was training again. If shooting started, Agents were supposed to assume that there was a real threat, even if they didn't see it.

In this case that got him hit until both weapons clicked. Martin Joabs hadn't reacted at all, not being a fighter. He finally moved back against the wall, the whites of his eyes showing.

Scott looked at him from the floor, "go! Run Martin! They've gone crazy!"

The humor in his voice spoiled the moment, but the admin fellow padded out as fast as he could. He was a bit heavy around the middle, and wore one of his brown suits. That put him in his brown dress shoes, which didn't really have traction on the bottom. That had him sliding as he tried to round the corner outside the door.

Both Agents tried to reload, not noticing that all he did was stand up. Looking at his chest, he sighed. His face stung, but would heal up in a few minutes. It was shielded after all. Armored inside. A bit of blood would come out, but not much.

He slowly stepped in, and took the weapons away. Lancaster tried to fight him for it, but other than knock him back a step, it didn't do much. The hard part was making certain no one got hurt. Hopefully his body had stopped any bullets from going through the wall. He didn't know what was on the other side instantly, but sort of thought it was Marcia Turner's office. She was even more bulletproof than he was, so that would be fine. Her secretaries might not be as lucky.

If Cellophane was hit for instance, she could die. No one would be able to treat her after all, since her power went into overdrive when she got stressed. She'd vanish and would be impossible to find. Not that he was going to turn around to look at the wall for holes yet.

"Give me those things. I think my point is proven? Notice that I didn't shoot anyone?" It was a bit strange sounding. Patronizing really. He couldn't help it. There was no way he could come across as shaken up, after all.

A few seconds later, a wave of friendliness hit him. At first he thought it was Denis. He was able to do things like that. It was Lady Glory though, hitting him with her blue beam of love and compassion. It made sense, given that he'd killed a man earlier in the day.

If anyone was going to flip out, it would be him. Except for the fact that poor Darryl was the one having issues that day.

Brian was behind her, looking a bit confused at least. "Scott? Are you-"

He pointed at the Agents, who were both trying for what had to be backup weapons.

"Karen, hit them. Lancaster is having a problem right now." His voice sounded a lot more loving than it should have, and he felt a real sense of compassion for the men.

It was probably a horrible job, having to deal with all the hatred that the world heaped on the IPB. Then Scott came along and accused him of being a bigot. That was probably the real issue. Too much stress, without a break. The blue light that surrounded him didn't move. Not until Brian grabbed Lady Glory around the middle, her glowing blue form seeming to be made of pure energy, and pointed her at the other men. Like a water hose.

It worked, and the feeling of compassion damped down a lot. For him at least. The Agents both relaxed too, stupid looking smiles coming to their faces. Not that he wouldn't have one too. Everyone did when Glory got going.

He looked at the others, not really knowing what to do. He wasn't going to be allowed to seem like that however, and spoke as if he had the master plan. It was a problem for him. Half the garbage that came out was mediocre at best, and people often seemed to think it was secretly brilliant.

"We can probably stop that now. I think this was-" What did he call it? They weren't Infected, but only one thing really fit the IPB shorthand. "A first mode issue? Agent style. Stress and a short temper leading to sudden violence, with Agent Burkes piling on due to training."

That was his take, and Karen dropped the attack she was putting forth, which let the other men both seem a little more normal.

Lancaster, however, didn't seem to be finished. It wasn't normal for him to be a prick, but something seemed to be setting him off. He pointed a big hand at Scott.

"You're under arrest. I'm not falling for your bullshit today Scott. You're planning something. Report to lockup." There was a slight smugness to the words. Right up until Brian pulled his nine millimeter out.

The man had a problem with both people abusing authority, and arrests in general. Karen jumped back, and started to glow again, as Brian fired. He didn't hesitate a lot anymore. Scott was in front of the Agents just in time to take the hit for the black suited man.

The only good thing was that other people had started to show up. Or a horrible situation, depending on what happened. It was Marcia, who had climbed into her official white uniform that waded in, staring at Proxy and then Lancaster.

"What the hell?" Her voice was slightly annoyed sounding.

That one was a thing that Scott could see himself. He felt annoyed too. Mainly at Lancaster, but there was more than enough to go around.

Brian spoke, his voice low and nasty sounding, the weapon in his hand still pointed at Lancaster. Re-aimed to take the man in the leg, if he tried to move. A shot that would have to go between Prime's knees to hit.

"Darryl's lost it and tried to arrest Scott. I don't know the rest, but that seems pretty clear. Burkes? Are you in on this? What's the situation?"

That got most of the people to look that way, and the other Agent spread his hands a bit.

"I think Prime had it right. Just a bit of conflicting personalities. No one was hurt. Why don't we put the weapons away now, and have a nice chat about it?" His tone was wrong, if he wanted Brian to do that for real. It was the one that the police used, just before they rushed you en-mass. At least on television.

That got Brian to glare, and not put anything away at all. Marcia tried to baffle his shot, moving in front of him, but faced Lancaster, who was fuming still. That had her trying to look around Scott, who was still shielding the man that had just shot him. With his own body.

"Darryl? Is that about right?"

"Yes. I ordered Scott to holding, and Brian drew down on me. That can't be allowed. Both of you, go to holding. Now." There was menace in the tone. Luckily Marcia just gave him a look.

She also figured it out first. The idea took Scott by surprise totally.

"Holy fuck. This is a first mode thing... You're Infected? When did that... The Carla Morris situation?"

Whatever that was. Prime vaguely remembered hearing something about that, from Doug Tibs, the new Team One man. Something about his ex-girlfriend. That couldn't be right.

You didn't catch being Infected. Not as far as anyone else knew. Not from another individual, unless they were a specific Infector. Everyone knew about that, but if Darryl had gravity powers, Scott would have been busily weighing about two or three tons at the moment.

The Agent didn't deny it, just growling a little. Sounding annoyed and like he badly wanted to hit someone.

"I didn't notice it at first. My first mode isn't too bad, but I wasn't planning on telling anyone. A bit late now."

The others in the room went quiet, and Brian put his side arm away, smoothly. He had a lot of practice with it, even if he couldn't take it with him on his exchanges.

"Crap, then. I need to get back outside. We just had an attack. A plane loaded with explosives. This could be a distraction." He looked at the slightly taller Agent, his face blank and eyes hard. "Is this why you've been being an asshole for the last three months?"

There was a pause, and then Lancaster ignored him.

"I'll go and tender my resignation. Agents aren't allowed to be Infected. Not openly."

Anything done inside the base was going to be collected as data too. The government got copies of it all. The NSA and Homeland security at least. It came up at times, whenever the Congress decided to make life harder for them. If one of them hiccupped wrong, it could end up in the congressional record.

Marcia had outted the man far too openly for it to be hidden.

Technically, if he was powerful enough, he'd be forced to join up with them as an Infected Operative. If you were able to manage your emotions and past a class two, you were drafted. No choice in the matter. It was a thing that Marcia got, her face looking sadder than Scott had remembered seeing it anytime in the last two decades.

"Fuck. Darryl... We can't let you go. You know that."

"Why not? If he has a low enough rated power, we don't need him." Scott knew he'd sound obnoxious, but he was trying to help the man out. If they didn't ask if he could make the cut, no one would know what he could do. It might cost him his job, but he could escape. Go off and have a real life. Away from them.

The Deputy Director just shook her head, slowly. "That doesn't matter. His military and tactical background means that he's a class three, even if all he can do is make toast on his chest. We don't want another Hampton's."

He understood that one. Hampton had been an Agent that had turned, about three or four months before. His power hadn't been all that impressive, but his total rage caused him to end up dead at the hands of someone at the base. No one had mentioned who, but it was Marcia. Scott didn't have a doubt in the world on that score.

The only good thing to happen then was that Lancaster got his weapons out, slowly, and set them on the floor. They could have used the table, but it was a little bit broken, having been smashed into the wall. That would probably come out of his pocket, too. They loved to bill you for damages at the IPB. They'd even tried to charge him for the rebuild of the upper levels. It was only that Charlot had told them that she'd leave if they tried it that had gotten them to pull back.

It wasn't like he'd bashed himself through the floor.

It was Karen that asked the question, her voice soft and gentle. Like she was talking to a little child, instead of Lancaster. He might not want to be Infected, but he'd managed to hide it from them, for months. There, at the base. That would mean his current dick headed attitude wasn't first mode related, Scott bet. People would have noticed that.

"What do you do?" All Infected had a power. Most of them were lame. For every person that could pick up a car, or fly, you had ninety-plus that could glow a bit, or give off the scent of pie. Most of them could pass, if their mode wasn't horrible. If it was, then they had problems.

In this case, Lancaster didn't whip out his ability to create ham sandwiches out of thin air, just holding up two fingers on his right hand. Flame appeared about six inches above it. White hot and bright.

"Pyro-kinetic. Probably class four. It's been kicking my metabolism up. It's been a pain avoiding the heat sensors in here, too. I run about six degrees hotter than a norm now."

Brian nodded, but waited for the patch of fire to dissipate before saying anything.

"Well, this is what we need right now then. Like I said, I have to get out onto watch. The rest of this will have to wait. For now... Darryl, you have to stay in your job. We can't afford to replace you yet. Um, Burkes, you shadow him. Unless... Are you Infected too? If so, fess up now. There was that thing with Tobin, so-" That got everyone to turn to the man, who grimaced, then shook his head.

"That was just me having a bad day. It probably means I shouldn't be in charge of anything."

Lancaster shrugged, his massive shoulders seeming a bit less defeated already.

"It's you, or Reyes. You have more of a head for paperwork, but Reyes is better with people. That isn't my decision to make. Not now. I'll put in recommendations with Director Moore." There was stress on the last sentence.

Even Brian smiled.

"Right, that old man that thinks he should be in charge of the IPB? It's a point. Still, we need someone to do the work, and Infected or not, you're the only one that really knows what to do, Darryl. Does that work for you, Marcia?" He turned to the woman in heavy white and waited. It was the polite thing to do.

She grunted. "Fuck yeah. Burkes, get with Reyes. I want applications from both of you for the position on my desk by tomorrow morning. Darryl, you're on for training. No job lasts forever, so suck it up. Brian, get back outside. Take Prime with you. Unless you're going to make up excuses to kill more people today, Scott?" She turned on him fast enough that she was nearly backhanded out of reflex. Which would have done nothing but move her back a few feet. That, and make him look violent and untrustworthy.

"I'm good." It wasn't an answer, but it was enough to get him from the room.

After all, the fact that he'd killed a man was starting to get to him a little, now that the initial rush of it was gone. He couldn't let that show, his carriage upright and strong still. Like it always was. Brian walked out, which let him follow, the pace going down the hallway quick. Nearly a jog.

It wasn't until they got outside that Brian, his father, spoke again.

"That isn't good. Poor Darryl. I wouldn't wish being one of us on anyone. Not even if he can pass as well as he's been doing. Are you up on the Carla situation? What that means?"

"I'm not, really. Something secret? I think Douglas mentioned it, but that doesn't seem right. She was his girlfriend?" The question sounded weak. They always did, unless you phrased them correctly. Brian was one of the few people he could do that with easily.

It was that the man didn't care about strength at all. Not the manly kind that most people did. With him, being right was more important than looking good, which let Scott play into that, as long as there weren't that many people around. Denis was another one as far as that went. With him it was that humor was a kind of toughness. Most people didn't think that at all, but he was able to joke with the man, most of the time.

Proxy didn't say anything until they were well outside the range of the mics on the building, walking right out past the front gates. They were still probably being watched, and listened to. That was the way of things now. It was more about being away from their own people, Scott guessed. So they wouldn't find out about the Carla thing. Whatever that was.

"She used to be my roommate. Close enough at least. Carla Morris. Doug's girlfriend. When she got scared, or panicked, she Infected people. Their primary personality traits becoming their first modes, and the power ratings hitting at least class three in each case." He stopped and lowered his voice, outside the wire or not. "I'm probably a class seven. It's not in the files. Lancaster is probably a five or six, if he admitted to being a four. You've notice that one, right?"

Scott had, so took a slow breath and looked around.

"That some people, like Marcia, are more powerful than we've been told? It's pretty obvious. There have been exactly two people that have managed to ever kick my butt. You and her. Not that I'm perfect, but I know how to fight. I've had decades of training for it. When she and I went at it, it was pretty clear that she's actually stronger than I am. She hides it, even in the gym."

The Chinese man scanned the sky, which got Scott to do the same thing. If they were being attacked again, it could come from anywhere. That got him to look at the road in front of him, just in time to see the convoy of military vehicles coming.

He pointed, but Brian didn't stop talking.

"We have a lot of people here that are more than they seem. We've been holding them back, so that when the government turns on us, we haven't shown our hand. Do you have a phone on you?"

Scott did, and didn't even have to ask who he needed to call, dialing Charlot directly. Brian looked at that and blinked, then grinned.

"Or we could call back up? This isn't going to be good. At least the military has never come just to visit before."

"I know. But Charlot can get everyone out faster than almost anyone else. She has all the numbers."

It was just the truth, so he explained it to his wife, who hung up on him ten seconds into their talk. It looked a bit like the war was starting. He hoped not, but it wasn't like they got a choice in the matter if it was.

Chapter six

No matter how fast Charlot Chambers could dial a phone to the right people, it couldn't hold a candle to Becky's ability to know what Brian was thinking, especially when he got scared. She was standing next to him before Prime had even managed to speak to his wife.

The convoy coming wasn't, as had just been pointed out, showing up for a visit. She pointed, which wasn't needed. Both of the men were already looking in the right direction.

"It looks like someone cleaned out the National Guard depot. That isn't new equipment, I don't think. Let me go and get a closer look." That took focus, but not half as much as getting onto the plane had. She was used to going outward. Getting into the air had been harder.

When she appeared in the middle of the road, the lead vehicle swerved. That made her yelp a bit herself. She was used to things passing through her, but had forgotten that other people could see her now. Really, she was a bit shocked that Chris was bothering to let her be seen at all. She held her ground, which got the soldiers driving to slam on the breaks. They all looked to be her own age, more or less. At least the men in the first truck.

The second in line stopped too, getting the whole line of green trucks to slam on their brakes. It wasn't like they'd been zooming along, so they made it without any fender benders.

For her part, she waved.

"Hello!" She made her voice seem happy, rather than like a person facing down two rifles that had been stuck out the window in front of her. "Hi there! You're early! We won't have the party favors ready for a few hours." She was making that last part up, but they were the ones coming without an invitation, so it seemed fair to tease them a bit.

She counted the vehicles, walking toward the one that seemed to have the old men in it. Not that any of them were truly ancient. The one on the passenger's side was clearly a guard, but next to him was a guy in army fatigues nervously holding a pistol. It was like the one that Brian had. A black nineteen-eleven nine millimeter.

Maybe the man was a Proxy fanboy?

She skipped over, acting a bit younger than her actual years. She looked the age she died at, so nineteen, but had over a year experiential past that. Right now she was in a business casual skirt, but it didn't detract too much. Her plaid schoolgirl uniform would have worked better. If they were threatened by her, it didn't seem to show directly.

She popped up, using the small metal step on the side, or seeming too.

"Hi! Did you come for the party?"

The man in the middle yelled at her, as if that was going to work.

"Are you stupid? We're a military convoy, get the hell out of the road! Are you trying to die?"

Biting her bottom lip, which should work out to be cute, she shook her head.

"Nope. I was really just wondering who sent you men here to die, and why? Do you have orders?"

The man waved the pistol enough that the younger one next to him ducked back. That left her uncovered at all, even standing not four feet away from the farthest man. That had to mean they weren't all that good at their jobs.

"Wait, are you actually the National Guard?" The badges said Army Reserve, which she was willing to guess was pretty much the same thing. "Holy crap on a stick. Someone is setting you up. You need to call this in. If you drive up to the gates of the IPB right now, you'll probably all die. There was an attack earlier. A plane filled with explosives. We took it out, but..." She looked at the oldest man, and sort of wished she'd bothered to learn what all the different stripes  and shiny bits meant at some point.

Too late now. For this situation at any rate.

The guy cleared his throat, seeming a bit too nervous to be totally clueless.

"The orders came in, and we have to do our duty. We're locking down this facility and all personnel inside. Anyone trying to leave will be shot. You should go and tell your little Infected pals that." Then he tried to seem smug. It didn't really work, since the flop sweat gave him away. She could smell it.

"You know, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Look, stay here, and I'll go and try to smooth this over? Don't try and close with the base. Get on the phone or radio, whatever you use and get your boss to call the Director here?" She turned and saw the lines of people out front. It was only fifteen people.

Because most of the others were already closing with them, coming around from both sides. Brian had set it up, so she got a live feed. It was useful. With a thought she relayed what she had too. It wasn't much. These men were, as far as she could tell, just pawns, ordered in to die. Probably to make them look like insane killer monsters. It was about to happen too, since the IPB as an organization, was really nervous, at the moment. They'd been ambushed too many times lately for anyone not to take this as a real attack.

Becky shook her head, still sticking inside the window.

"Someone is trying to start a war here. I'm going to need you to back out now. I know, you'll look bad. Eat it. Otherwise a bunch of sad sack soldiers end up being killed here today." It was tempting to scream at them, but that wouldn't help. Really, she doubted anything would.

After all, the convoy was already surrounded. Even if you didn't count the super powers of the people around them, the number of military weapons still kind of trumped what these people had showing.

"I can't do that miss. This only ends one way-" He was going to go on, but the shooting started from the back, and there was a large crash, followed by another as she leaned back, dangling by one hand to see what had happened. The last two trucks were laying on their sides. It looked like the next two were about to go as well.

That wasn't actually the case, since one of them was slowly floating to the side, with men jumping out of it. Nearly a hundred did then, all told, as the driver of the vehicle she was in tried to start the engine. That didn't work, the thing just making grinding sounds.

A rather dour looking Kerry stood there pointing at it, her light colored face pale above the black body armor. She was about two hundred yards away, but still got the job done.

The men with Dharma started to panic, and the oldest one tried to shoot her. That didn't do much, except wing the guy with the rifle, who screamed.

"I'm hit!" He screamed it several times, until Becky decked him, a little awkwardly. It worked, since he was pretty sure that someone had just punched him in the jaw.

"Stop freaking out, you dumb-fucks. I told you what to do, but you didn't listen, so now you're prisoners. Come with me, and drop the weapons. I'll try to get you out of this." She grabbed her head, which didn't hurt, but felt like it should. "On my first day back too. I better be getting paid for this. If not, I'm taking a kidney from each of you and selling it on the black market."

She wasn't and knew it. Stupid anti-dead bigots.

After slapping the three people in the front of the truck for several minutes, they finally gave up, and Bridget ran over, dressed in her nifty new Team One outfit. It was all brown, with olive colored patches on the shoulder and came with black running shoes. It was tight, and didn't leave much to the imagination, but considering the little Rat Girl was still about as flat as a board and didn't seem to be growing body hair of note, it worked well enough for her.

"Got'em, Dharma?" The implication in the subtext was that, if she didn't, the sixteen year old would be willing to help out.

"They're coming peacefully. I think I have the dumb ass in charge, here. He shot Private Scooter here." She gestured at the wounded arm and the man glared.

"Sergeant Scooter." The words were pained and the name tag said his name was Wallace, but she got the idea.

"Fine, Sergeant Wallace here needs medical attention. Come on everyone." It took more slapping, and some muttering about them making her look bad, but eventually they all went. Without Bridgie having to drag them out by their hair. That was nicely short, so it was just as well.

Five minutes later they had the whole crew on the ground, with the Director back at the base, talking to people on the phone, and Lancaster, the head Agent, standing there, looking pissed. Except... He wasn't that anymore, was he? She hadn't known it until she saw him, but the info flowed in from Brian. All of it. She'd been there for the whole thing with that bitchy cunt Carla, but hadn't realized that Darryl had been hit too. Even from the grave she was making trouble.

She walked over, and didn't mention it. After all, intimidating big guy with a gun, standing outside the IPB base. If he wanted to lay claim to being in charge, that worked for her.

"Agent Lancaster. This man over here seems to be in charge. Uh... Lancing?" She pointed and Bridget nodded, moving over to the right man.

She called out, sounding a lot more mature than she normally did.

"Captain Lancing. First name Ward. I got it off his dog tags. We should take his boots."

That got Becky to laugh, and Lancaster to look at her sideways. After a bit she controlled her face and explained.

"Like in prison? We can trade them for cigarettes and pruno. I think we should go over, before she suggests selling them to Team Two for the night. Alcohol won't do anything for her, and I don't want her to take up smoking. It's a filthy habit."

The man sighed, but cracked the tiniest of smiles.

"Well, if nothing else, being dead has improved your outlook. Let's go."

It wasn't like they had a five mile walk, and a lot of time to think things through. The man was on his knees, with his ankles crossed and hands held behind his head. His fingers were interlaced, but the fact that no one was zip tied showed that someone didn't think they were a real threat.

On the good side, Cappy Lancing was smart enough to keep his lips shut. Most people in his position would have tried talking smack by that point. Threatening the Infected freaks with death, or prison. This one just refused to talk, even as he was asked decently polite questions. Lancaster didn't seem to mind all that much.

When his phone rang, he answered a bit slowly.

"Lancaster, go ahead."

Becky got the idea. He really wasn't Agent Lancaster now, and hadn't been, since the moment he'd acknowledged being Infected. Brian might have the right idea, and even think that his buddy being kicked out of his job based on something like that was brain dead, but that didn't change reality. Only one organization in the federal government hired Infected and that in only the one capacity. Infected IPB Operatives. Even the people they had in food service or housecleaning that were Infected had to officially be that.

They didn't point it out, day to day, but the government had a file on all of them. Except for her. She wasn't Infected at all. Not anymore. Now she was something else. More like a really good idea than a threat.

She moved to where Brian was standing, since he was chatting with someone on the phone. The President. He sounded a bit short with the man too, which wasn't fair.

"Lighten up, Bri-Bri. He didn't order this." Unless he had. In that case they were screwed so hard that a war would be starting that day for real. Not just from this bunch of Gomer Pyle's either.

That got her a narrow eyed stare that looked hostile for a bit. Then he nodded.

"Right, sorry sir. I was just told to back it down a notch. You can get how this might just be a tad stressful?"

Becky smiled. Who used the word tad without being facetious? When she heard it she imagined some fifty year old woman back in the mid-eighties drinking diet coke, and wondering if hair metal bands were really the end of the world. One probably named Myrtle. Why she did that escaped her. She blamed Brian for it, having gotten them both stuck back in time once already. Not that it had been a big deal for her, but-

She froze, the data hitting her hard.

"Fuck, Brian, you're going to transit. This seems big. I..." She looked around, the warp in space clear to her already, though not everyone there. She pointed at it, off to the right. Up in the air at nearly the same point that the Director had made the plane vanish earlier. It seemed to be back, and about to crash.

Brian was gone, carrying her with him. He screamed as they got onto the plane again, the bombs still all there. It was diving fast, so she yelled, not having a lot else to do.

"Get to the cabin and fly this thing!"

Not that Brian knew how to do that. In all his training over the last year that little skill had been left out. Becky didn't know how to even drive a car, so jet planes were right out. Worse, Brian wasn't going to be able to leave the way he came. The energy for it was depleted for now. The last time that had happened they'd had to ride a commercial flight back to where they'd started from.

There was no good way off for them.

Brian was working the same thing out as he dashed to the front and grabbed the controls. They were locked, but helpfully there was an orange glowing button that she could point at. Hitting it, without even asking if that was what she wanted, got him control. That was something. About enough for them to actually level up a bit and miss hitting the base.

Carefully Brian moved his body around, not moving the steering wheel thing. Not much, as far as she could tell. Then he settled in, his face set.

"Well." That was all he said. It was enough for her.

She understood what it was he didn't say. They were dead. There was nothing in the plane to help them get down. No parachute or wing-suit. Not even a handy Brian to come and trade places with him without momentum, ten feet from the ground. They'd done that once, for Denis. She smiled anyway.

"But we, my sexy co-host, have friends. Bring this thing back around and I'll chat up Doug, then you point this tin can away from our goodies and we can spend all night doing the nasty. Until Chris goes to sleep. I'm pretty sure I turn back into a pumpkin then."

There was no smile, just a slow working of the controls. He didn't know how to fly, but wasn't dumb enough to risk a stall or anything.

"I have a girlfriend."

Becky had to laugh at that. "Right, because the girl that lives in your head really counts as cheating? Besides, I meant Doug and me. You can come too, but if he can pull this off, I plan to be grateful."

He nodded, "We should be in range in about ten seconds. Get ready. Go." There was no yelling, but she managed to get close to the line of people, which did have the man she was looking for in it.

She explained, breathless, even though she didn't need air.

The short haired and still slightly blocky man shook his head.

"I can't. I mean, earlier? My power? I bruised my brain or something. If I do more now, it might kill me. What do we do?"

She didn't know. Looking around she spotted Prime. He could fly. Running to him she tried to explain, but the man shook his head too.

"No, get Kerry. She can make the catch. She's probably one of the best telekinetics in the world. I'll call her."

Surprisingly that worked, since Prime had her on speed dial. Given there were only eight names on the list to choose from that was nearly shocking.

"Kerry? This is Scott. Brian is in the plane up there, he's going to jump out in a bit, and we need you to catch him for us." He covered the mouthpiece. "Can you tell us when?"

Becky nodded, and passed the thoughts to her host. It took a bit of concentration to make herself heard, but not too much.

Brian, on this next pass, get to the door and jump. Kerry from Team Two is going to catch you.

There was no hesitation at all in the man's mind. To live he had to trust a woman he barely knew. She was on his side, so he'd do it without question. Even if he died. He hoped not, since that would play merry hell with her self-esteem which was only just starting to perk up a bit.

There you go, hardly being a little bitch-man at all!

"Tell Kerry to get ready. He has to head the plane toward the ground and then get out. It's going to be close."

Almost as if her ear was to the cell, not Prime's, she heard the woman. There was a grim sound to things, but confident. Not scared at all.

Becky got the info they needed and spoke what was happening, first the plane nosed down, headed out into the desert. Then she called the play by play.

"He's at the door, and opening it... There. Now, on three... Two... Catch!"

Becky expected Brian to simply fall, maybe slowing in time to live, maybe not. Instead he stayed at the same level after stepping out and had to force himself flat not to lose his head to the wing as it shot past and he lost speed. Then, lying flat in the air, he flew back toward them, headed toward the trucks.

She went to him, hoping he'd be all right. He was a bit freaked out, on a deep level, but that didn't make it all the way to the surface at all. On that level he just looked a bit bored as he floated over, went upright and landed right next to a battle ready Kerry.

He spread his arms playfully and landed on a single foot the other leg bent up artfully. It was what Prime always did. Kerry took it as an invitation to give him a hug, which was returned like they were old friends.

"I nearly got you decapitated!" She squeaked the words at him, but he shook his head and murmured to her, even as Prime flew over and landed, the exact same way that Brian had. That got Kerry to hug him too. Crying a bit. "I almost killed him! I can't believe I was so stupid. The wing."

Becky moved in and patted her on the back. She was a bit on the plain side, if you didn't look at her closely. It was sort of a waspish look, the kind that women from Connecticut often had. A light smattering of freckles and a small, snubbed nose, blond hair. A bit more muscular than was trendy, but that was due to constant weight lifting, not fat.

It felt like it too, since the girl was dense, but that could be the body armor.

"Don't sweat that. It was his job to take care of that part, and he did. You did it right-"

The world exploded. There was that plane after all, which even nearly two miles away rocked the entire place. It would have been deafening. If she'd had real girl ears. Everyone winced, or at least ducked. Except Prime, he just looked stoic, almost posing in the slightly orange glow of the growing cloud of dust. It was freaking hot, but the man was trying to be good, so she decided not to mention it.

After all, she'd been cute enough for him to cheat on his wife once. She might be too much for him to resist now, too.

"I might also have a bridge to sell you." She said that out loud, and got a nod from Brian, who understood what she was going for. No one else noticed her at all.

Christian had dropped her projection, probably doing something actually important. It felt different, but she could still chat with her skull buddy.

"So, Doug was feeling a bit under the weather. I guess I'll be busy with Kerry all night? I don't normally do girls, but if your head was decorating the countryside here, I don't think I'd be around either. Gratitude, you know?"

He spoke to her out loud, which was nice, but strange. She understood his reasoning, so it wasn't that weird. People had seen her all day. Now when he spoke to her, he could just explain. If he did it right, most wouldn't even ask for him to.

"Dharma, check on Chris and the others inside? That distortion, it had Tesseract written all over it. I wonder how he managed it? I'd sort of been thinking of Moore's power as a kind of un-making. If it's time displacement or something, that might mean that all the things he's moved are still there, waiting to be called back into place." He turned and looked at the man, who'd heard him clearly.

The Director looked a little tense.

"Save that for later. Right now we need to get some teams on this thing. Half the world is going to see that and think we had something to do with it. As far as I can determine no one officially ordered these men in today. We have Senator Roberts as being in D.C. He missed his late night flight. No one knows what happened to Wendy McConnell."

Becky did though. It was right there in her mind, which got her to point up at the sky, where another purple and black distortion was forming.

"Incoming! People this time. Um, four of them?" Brian saw it but just stood there. Watching it happen. No one could do anything about it, could they?

Chris! I need to be seen! Now. Emergency!

She screamed it in her mind, not knowing if it would work at all, space just beginning to ripple like heat waves as she did it. Suddenly people looked at her, and she screamed out loud.

"People are going to be dropped from the sky! There. Catch!" She pointed, since no one else could see it yet.

Bridget didn't hesitate at all, leaping into the air, flying awkwardly, bobbing a bit a few times. It was new to her, but it got the others going well enough. Prime flew as well, and passed his daughter in the air. Soar was with them, half a second after Scott was up and going, beating her wings hard.

There were four people coming down, and only three fliers. Not that it mattered. They didn't get there in time to actually make the needed catches at all. All four people fell, from about five hundred feet up. It was just going to take too long to get to them. Kerry stared at them, her face panicked.

"I can only get one."

Becky barked at her, sounding raw. "The top one!"

That was a man, she thought. White shirt and black pants, probably the original pilot. He stopped, and the other three kept dropping. Plummeting to their deaths.

Until they stopped in mid-air. It wasn't long, and they didn't float down, just hanging for about ten seconds. Just long enough for Prime, Bridget and Felicia to get there and grab them. Then it was clearly a fight to stay airborne. Soar wasn't built to carry a person and ended up grabbing a small woman with her feet, gliding into a controlled crash. Prime managed his man with style, but Bridget kind of copied Soar's landing, hitting the ground at about the speed of a quick walk.

It was better than smacking the Earth like an anvil.

Brian looked around and started running, full speed, at the gate. At first she thought they were under attack, but saw the downed form inside the chain link. People were gathering around Doug, who was bleeding again. This time from his ears, too.

It was pretty easy to see what had happened. Their fliers and telekinetic hadn't managed the task, so he used his power to help out. Only it was too much for him, after what had happened earlier. It wasn't their weight, she knew. His ability didn't care about that. It was probably how big of an area he'd needed to influence. The two fliers were back up already, though Felicia was holding her left wrist, and limping. Interestingly, the woman she'd caught was walking back with her slowly, an arm around the girls shoulders. Helping her.

Normally that would have been impressive. Most people were afraid of Infected people and you didn't get a lot more obvious about it than Soar. She looked like a flying dinosaur. Her skin was nearly brick red at the moment too.

That Wendy McConnell was even standing near her was incredible. That she was actively being useful just about boggled the mind. The woman was limping too, even as she held up the tiny form next to her.

Brian got to Doug first, and it was clear that he was breathing, so Becky headed over to the two women.

It took a minute of her walking with them for the bitchy television lady to use her normally acerbic voice, but it came, leaving Becky feeling rewarded.

"You could help you know. Are you lazy, or just stupid?"

Becky smiled and waved her on, "dead. I'm actually a ghost, so I can't help you at all. Well, except for this." She put her fingers to her lips and used two of them on her right hand to whistle. It was a piercing and powerful thing, that had a dozen people turning to look at them. "Medic! Over here!"

That worked well enough and while they didn't get a team of doctors ready with drugs and lollypops, they did get one of the prisoners. Sergeant Scooter, in fact, who had a bandage around his right arm. Without waiting, he started asking for supplies, which came along with an actual doctor, who let the military guy treat Wendy out of his red box of goodies. The man, who was in blue scrubs and tennis shoes, had white hair on the top and gold rimmed glasses.

Brian's old friend, Doctor Curmudgeon. It was actually Clinton, but he really did look a bit sour all the time.

"Can you squeeze my hand, Felicia?" Soar didn't speak at all. No one knew if it was that she couldn't or simply chose not to. She followed orders and took the man's hand, gripping even as tears of pain came. "That's fine. I think it's broken. Let's get you inside and see about an x-ray, shall we? How about your patient?" This was directed at Scooter the soldier.

"Contusions, probably sprained ankle. Otherwise she seems fine. Can we get her looked at more officially? My first aid courses aren't really good for more than band-aids and CPR."

Becky grinned. "About the same training I've had. That works, if you don't mind, Ms. McConnell? Your greeter went down saving your life, so you can meet him down there. If he wakes up. I hope so. We have a date soon." None of that made sense to anyone listening at all, she was willing to bet.

Cutely enough, Doctor Clinton tried to check her for damage, too.

She patted his shoulder.

"I'm a mental projection. If you wanted to save me, well, it's nearly four years too late now. I'll meet you all down in medical? Or, you two. You, Sergeant Goodhands, need to get back to your prisoner's area. Thanks for coming over. I'm shocked that anyone let you. Did you ask, or just run?"

The man, who'd lost his hat, rubbed at his head a bit. "That second one. I'm probably in trouble then, aren't I?"

She nodded, then looked around and waved.

"Mark! Denis!" The man seemed to expect a beating, at least from the look on his face.

Doug was standing up on his own, with Brian hovering over him like a mother hen ready to catch his friend if he tottered over. The two she called weren't needed for that, so she kept waving. Her little crew of pretty men would come over, or she'd scream at them. It didn't take long, since they were only about forty feet away.

"Sergeant Wallace is going to help you two arrange for snacks. Bridget and Prime need to eat, and so do about half of Team Two. If we aren't going to torture info out of these guys, we should probably feed them something too. Some drinks maybe? You know, some sign that we're people and not taking this too seriously?"

That got the man taken away, actually going inside, which would no doubt make the Director turn strange shades of red. It wasn't her problem anymore, so she just followed the group heading inside.

Chapter seven

Looking at his daughter, Scott smiled. She was filthy, having literally rolled in the dirt. Her catch was alive, and not hurt at all. That was because she'd taken the brunt of the impact for him and protected him with her own body as they landed. She could take that, but her clothing was in need of a good patting down. He winked at her.

"Not bad. We really need to work on your landings." That was hard to do, since the rule was that Impulse didn't fly in public. If anyone asked, they'd have to lie and say that someone else had lifted her into the air. Kerry most likely. That would be suspicious, but it clearly wasn't Douglas. The man still looked like he was about to die.

That had been impressive. The man had used his power even in clear agony, and hadn't let go of the field until the three falling folk had been held by their other rescuers. Scott hadn't been there to see it, but the fact that Brian was half carrying him to medical was a sign that things had been pretty intense.

Bridget gave him a serious nod, her face being held still. She wasn't even fighting a smile, which spoke to a lot more control of her first mode than he would have expected from her. She was growing up so fast. Pride ran through him, but it didn't really show. Not until he remembered what Becky the ghost had told him earlier. Being a good husband and father made him look strong. In her eyes at least. She was still nearby too, so he patted his daughter on the shoulder, not letting himself do more than that.

Too many people already thought he was a pervert. Giving them more ammunition would just be foolish.

"You did really well. Do you think you're ready for another job? We have a special situation developing. A real one. No one else is going to be able to handle it correctly. I would have suggested Doug for it, actually, but he's already-"

There was a wise nod from his daughter then. "Down for the count. I'll do it." She stood with her feet apart and hands on hips, in a power stance. It looked official and strong. Also like a joke, since she was so tiny and smudged with dirt. After a second she did grin and look at him directly. "Um, what is it? Litter patrol? Running messages?"

That made sense. He'd said it was a real situation and that was the kind of thing that sixteen year old girls got to do on the base. Especially after she'd helped a child molester escape the summer before. Her lover, Clark. Right from the reinforced lockup on level thirteen too. The Director had been tempted to try and lock her in there, but everyone had pointed out to the man that the little girl would have freed herself inside twenty minutes anyway. So she'd been given over to Tobin, who'd been making her slave for them all for months.

"Not this time. This is a real problem. It could go seriously wrong, and if it does I need you to get someone to safety. One of the Agents popped Infected and has been hiding it. Pyro, and pretty high level. Four or better. I don't know what his mode is, but he's stressed right now, having just been found out. Lost his job, though we're hiding that for the time being. I need you to keep him safe." The rest went without saying. If he flipped out, she was going to be needed to stop him. A power like that, making intense fire, could do some real damage.

She grimaced, getting the situation already.

"Crap. The Carla Morris situation?"

Prime let his lavender eyes blink, and then nodded, like he hadn't just been clued in half an hour before. It wasn't a surprise to him that Bridget was smarter than he was, but knowing that was a bit. It had clearly been top secret.

"Right. It's Lancaster. You get what that means?" He let his voice go low, still feeling proud of his girl. It showed, he thought.

"I... Yeah, I think I do. I'll go and set that up. There really aren't a lot of people that can help with this one. Brian maybe? They're tight."

"Except that Proxy nearly shot him earlier, after he tried to have me locked up. Lancaster, that is. I caught the bullet so no damage was done, but I don't want to have them sleeping in the same room yet." He paused and stared directly into her red eyes. They really did look like her grandmothers. A little more red, but that was all. "I don't want you sleeping with him either. He'd have to shoot you then, which might be a problem."

She waved at him with her left hand, dismissing the idea totally, as if it had never even been a thought.

"I have people for that. I'll handle it. Is he going to be on Team One then? He has the looks for it." She looked out at the collection of military men, who were all being held in place by five people. Quartz, Level and Agent Lancaster among them. Poltergeist was out there too, along with Mongo. Rachel had been in on the initial take down, but was standing by Moore now, her eyes scanning the world around them like she did.

Speaking of which, he needed to be doing that, too. It would make him look good. Doing that, he patted her back and started walking toward the group of people. It was pretty clear, if anyone was paying attention, that a lot of people were missing. Most of Team Two just wasn't there. They'd been sent out to individual appointments at IPB sub-stations around the country, in case anyone managed to take the base out. Like they nearly had that day. Twice already.

They walked quickly, with Bridget holding her head high, and tiny shoulders back, like a miniature copy of himself. It would have been a bigger deal to him, except for the fact that they'd all had lessons on deportment. Team One covered things like that once every week or two.

When they got into place, Marcia fixed Bridget with a look. It wasn't angry, just suspicious. What was going on inside her head, Prime didn't know. It could be anything at that point. Even that Impulse, one of their own team, was about to help the men on the ground escape. She had a history of doing things like that now.

The pale woman didn't look back at the soldiers at all, keeping her gaze on them.

"Is there a situation?" This was still addressed to the girl, but Prime didn't let it get to him. Marcia wanted it to, he knew. She didn't like him, thinking that he was a bad parent and was probably still wondering if he really had slept with his own daughter. Even after it had been proved otherwise. When you had suspicion as a first mode it was probably hard not to think things like that. Even if they didn't make sense.

Impulse went to parade rest, her little hands clasped behind her back.

"I've been put in charge of Lancaster's training. Is he on Team One? Or Three? I've been considering transferring myself. Tobin doesn't need me anymore, I don't think." There was a serious expression to go with the adult sounding words.

It still got Lancaster to glare at her, and then him.

"Did Moore put you up to it?"

The girl shrugged, her shoulders moving higher than most people could have managed, if only by a bit. Nearly touching her ears.

"Nah. Dad did. It's the right plan. I follow you around, and you can keep me out of trouble for a bit. Show me what Agents do and all that. I need to pick that up anyway. If anyone gives you any crap, I'll handle it." She moved to put her tiny fists on her narrow hips and posed. "You get the idea. If they call you names, I'll cry at them until they give in and feed me cake. That, or imply that they're being mean. People hate that."

It was funny, but after about ten seconds, Quartz just gave a single nod.

"That's not a bad plan. Lancaster, work with her. Team Three for now." It was said in a way that indicated it had been her plan all along. That was part of what he did all the time too, so let it slide.

Prime was a lot of things, but in charge of the IPB wasn't one of them. Thoughts of Crandall came back then for some reason. The feeling of his neck popping under Scott's fist. It shook him, but as always, that didn't show. He did take an extra deep breath, which got Lancaster to focus on him.

"Problem with that, Scott?" His voice was a lot more reasonable now. Even being stressed, the man was normally a lot more like this than what he'd been earlier. Calm, collected and professional. It looked powerful, but Scott decided to try and go with the good father routine for a while. Just to see if it really worked.

"It isn't that. I killed a man today. It's affecting me." It felt weak to say, but no one did more than glance up at him. Including the soldiers on the ground. They knew their own people were all fine, more or less, so weren't freaking out at the news.

Lancaster grunted.

"It was self-defense. Crandall was going to die eventually. He went after too many people. At least you managed it without letting him take out anyone else in the room first." Now the man was managing to sound reasonable, and not like he wanted to start a fist fight with Scott.

Prime wondered if that little fit he'd had earlier had been about getting him clear of the room. It made sense, but had also destroyed Lancaster's career. Had he really taken that hit just to protect him from murder charges?

Or, given everything, had he been trying to die? If so then he better not let that happen. Bridget didn't need to lose a friend. Not like that. No one did, but she was only sixteen. She'd lost one friend to suicide already. Becky.

Almost as if he had a magical ghost summoning ability, the girl appeared. She was dressed differently now, in a black Team Two battle uniform. It didn't have body armor with it, but that wasn't going to be needed. Not for the already dead girl.

"Hey, peeps. We have some food coming for everyone. Then we're cutting these kids loose. It turns out that this was supposed to be an exercise. At least that's what the claim is for now. Coming in without warning, on top of an attack... Well, we all get that it isn't normal, right?" She was looking at the oldest man on the ground, who seemed annoyed suddenly, instead of just pissed off.

He stood up, doing it slowly so that no one would shoot him. That was smart enough. Not that he still wouldn't die if he tried anything too aggressive.

"Great. This is going to look nice on my record, isn't it? Not only were we sent in on a crap mission, but we failed to even make it to the gate. So what was this really? Some kind of test?"

Bridget moved close to the man, who didn't act like it was a big deal. She was small enough that a lot of people didn't respond to her as a threat, even knowing she could flip trucks over with one hand.

"Seems about right." There was a friendly pat on the arm, and she looked at the front of the building, as if expecting the food to come instantly. "Hey, we can probably let these guys sit Indian style and put their hands down then?"

That took a bit to arrange, and Scott noticed that no one was let up really. They just got to have circulation to their feet again. It wasn't a problem that he'd ever really had, but some people seemed to react like they were in pain. Even the Captain sat back down, not trusting his feet to hold him up anymore.

It took a about half an hour for the large boxes of food to come, since they were all really nice sandwiches with a drink cart being pushed into place by Dennis. Everyone that was out there was an Operative, except Lancaster. Or, well, he was too now. They were ready for the next thing to happen then, but as such things normally went, nothing big did. One of the soldiers, who wasn't very highly rated, he didn't think, started to whine at them. That was all.

"I didn't sign up for this shit! We don't even have bullets, and these freaks tipped our trucks over! I'm going to sue. I don't care what it costs. This is-" He stopped suddenly, since Becky moved over to where he was sitting and slapped him. Hard too. It made an audible sound and the man rocked, all the way to the ground.

She grinned and did a little dance move after she stood back up.

"That is so much fun. It won't even leave a mark. Now, dippy-doodle, shut the fuck up, will you? Have an orange-cream soda, and be happy that I'm in a good mood today."

The man on the ground sat up and glared.

"I'm so suing you."

Dharma slapped him again. "For what? Haunting you? I'm a ghost. Good luck with that one. I died years ago, and don't have an estate to go after." Then she did it again, while making spooky spirit sounds.

Bridget chuckled, which sounded fake, being deep and slightly menacing. She moved into place, and Lancaster did too, flanking Becky. At first it seemed like the girl was going to take her own turn hitting the mouthy man, but she took her old friend by the arm and pulled her away.

"Come on, Becky. Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should. Captain? If you could keep your, um, Corporal here, silent? It might make things easier. I suppose we should get your trucks fixed?"

They were being used as a barricade at the moment. Given the lights off in the distance, Scott didn't really think that moving them was that brilliant of an idea at the moment. It was the local police. What was left of them. Some of them had managed to actually lose their jobs over the last year, after a few terror attacks on the base. Ones where the cops had been the terrorists.

Sighing he managed a smile then. "Thank God Proxy is inside still. We need to keep him there. The last thing we need is a fire fight out here right now. These men will never last." He was about to indicate the soldiers when Quartz cleared her throat.

"Brian is getting rather decent, isn't he? Well, this is about to go sideways, regardless. We should pull back, but that's going to leave our friends here as either prisoners or potential hostages. Den, can you keep this thing calmed down?" She looked over at the man, who was clean shaved and had slightly curly hair. He was wearing a pullover sweater in a deep red color, instead of a suit, like he used to all the time.

It worked for him.

"I can. Let me pull back a bit. Hey, red, can you come stand in front of me? Or better yet, you, Prime. I need someone to stop any stray rounds." He looked at Bridget and shrugged. "No offense, but he's bigger than you are."

Looking at the approaching vehicles, of which there was a nice long line, all with lights going, but no sirens, Scott had an idea. He looked over at Mark, and waved, which came out seeming over confident. Enough so that Quartz winced.

"Mark! When they stop, could you collect their weapons? It might be easier to get them to see reason if they didn't have them." It made sense to him. It was probably theft, but hey, if you wanted to play with the IPB you needed to be ready for that kind of thing.

Both Lancaster and Turner looked at him. In the first moments it seemed like they were going to countermand the idea, but then the Team One leader nodded.

"That would be good, Mark. Impulse, if you'd stay with Denis? You have too much history with this crowd. Prime, you're with me. Lancaster, hold back, but move with us. Try not to use your ability yet. If we have to slap them around, you're on tap for that. You have that kind of control?"

The man looked at her as if she were mentally handicapped. It was nice to see, Scott realized. Most of the time everyone just deferred to her.

"I hid it for months. Here, with everything being on camera. Including with people shooting at me. I think I can manage, thanks." It came out sounded amused, rather than like he was about to kill anybody.

His tone was ignored, by Marcia.

"You're with us then. Let's get in place." That took walking, and had four of them moving toward the approaching single file line of police cars. Walking with his eyes straight ahead, Scott didn't realize that the person next to him on the right wasn't Mark. Not until Becky spoke.

"Well, fuckity-fuck. I guess they're coming to see why we're launching giant bomb attacks on the desert? They had to have seen that from town. If it were me, I would have called first. It might have saved on some gas consumption. Then I doubt these little bitches are the kind to worry much about Climate Change, are they? It's hard to see it coming, if you live with your head up your ass." She sounded light and happy about it all. Not like her old self at all.

Lancaster, who was walking behind Prime, cleared his throat.

"Watch the language. We don't need to stir anything up. They're just trying to get their job done. For all we know they're honestly coming out to help."

That got both the women to laugh. Scott didn't, since that would seem a bit too weak. Lancaster sighed, but didn't go on.

Becky did. "I get the idea. Don't worry, I can hold my tongue. I'll go and stand in front, in case they decide that hitting us is a good plan? It worked with the Army Reserve. Of course they were all relatively sane." She moved a bit faster, putting herself a good fifty feet down the road.

Then they waited.

The road was straight and the cars drove fast, but they could see them from about three miles away, so it took a bit for the black and whites to arrive. When they got there, they pulled up four deep, taking up the entire road, to block it. After a few seconds the men and women all charged out of their vehicles. It looked practiced and efficient, except for the part where they went for their weapons and found out that they just didn't have anything left. Stasis was hard to beat that way.

Not looking over, Scott could still imagine the scene. There would be a pile of things back at the base, near the Director, who was standing with his guards. After a few slaps at empty holsters, the man in front, who wasn't the chief, but his second in command, moved forward.

"Did you know that interfering with an officer on duty is a crime?"

He spoke to Becky, but this time she didn't start out by slapping the man. She nodded instead.

"Which I haven't done at all. We had several terrorist attacks here today. That explosion you saw was one of them. We need you to turn around and leave. Now. Your department has a habit of attacking us, too. Right now that would end with your deaths. Legally. Get in your cars, and leave. You have twenty seconds. Doing anything else will probably not work for you very well." Her voice was low and dark, like Brian's always was.

Filled with hate for the boys in blue. Yes, these particular ones were morons, but not all of them were. Hopefully Brian's problems weren't going to influence Dharma too much. It was hard enough to rein Proxy in on that score, most days. They'd had to hide the fact that he'd killed more than a few so far. Yes, ones that were about to kill other people, but that still wouldn't go over well with the police if it was ever discovered.

The man in front glared and slapped his hand against the empty holster at his side. Without his weapon, he wasn't all that brave, and actually stepped back.

"That's how this is playing out? You're illegally using your powers against us, to intimidate us?" The way he said it sounded loaded. As if it were a real thing.

Becky snickered at him, until the man turned red and tried to push her. Unlike before, she just stepped out of the way, not doing anything to the fool at all.

"Not at all. We're keeping you from making a horrible mistake. You have about ten seconds still. Go."

They went. It was almost as if they'd collectively grown a brain in the last half year. He murmured that out loud, as they moved away. From behind him a voice spoke. His daughter.

"Not likely. It was not having their weapons. That was a good plan. Mark said that he hid them all in the lead car's trunk, so if they call to whine about them being gone they don't actually have anything on us." She looked back at the man and then shook her head. "He's so dreamy. He gave me six sandwiches. I think I love him."

That wasn't great news, except for the fact that he was almost certain she was kidding. For once.

So instead of trying to talk her out of this latest crush, Scott gestured at the green trucks. "Let's get these back into place? On their wheels." It didn't take long to right things, since Bridget, Marcia and himself each took one apiece. Then Kerry walked over, looked at the slightly bent and crushed sides, and focused. There were some popping noises as the metal smoothed back out. It was impressive how it seemed to flow. Like the large wrinkles being taken out of a bedspread.

Except that even the small ones were removed too. Even the paint looked right in the end. Scott clapped her on the back, like he had Bridget earlier.

"Excellent work. Very nicely done! Can you do uniforms too? If so we might make even more friends if we can fix that too." Or, he understood, if she could fix people.

If so, then that couldn't be spoken about at all. It would mean she wasn't a class four telekinetic at all. Brian had mentioned that kind of thing earlier. Some of the people were more than they seemed. If she could heal, they had to keep that from ever being known, or the government would make her vanish.

"Oh, sure. I can do that. Let's line up anyone with rips and tears? It won't take long and is cheaper than replacing things." There were only a few that had anything like that. Primarily the man that had been shot in the arm. Kerry got the blood to come out even. It took a lot of effort, it seemed, but she had them all looking fresh enough by the time the Director came out, riding in the back of a black sedan. Agents Reyes and Holder were with the man, so they looked like a wall of darkness. Moore climbed out of the back a little stiffly, his middle not being very flexible, and then moved directly to Captain Lancing, as if they'd met before.

Without speaking, the man was handed a cell phone, which got taken and put to the side of the Captain's head. After a moment, he made a face, and then started answering questions.

"Yes, sir. We have one man down. Friendly fire. No other damage. I understand. Of course, sir." Then the phone was handed back to the Director, who did his own chatting for a bit, sounding a lot less deferential. That meant it wasn't President Lawrence. After he hung up, the older man, who was in charcoal gray now, gave the assembled military men a once over.

"That should end this exercise, gentlemen." Looking closely at the group of soldiers he noticed the genders and bowed a little. "Ladies. We're sorry about any inconvenience you experienced today-"

One of them, the Corporal from earlier, pointed at Dharma.

"That bitch kept slapping me! It hurt. I want her arrested." He sounded petulant, but no one said that every member of the group was smart. Most of them had actually managed well enough that way, but there was always one.

Like Crandall. Scott winced a bit, remembering the scene from earlier. No one seemed to notice at all, staring at the now ranting man who was in the second line of the formation.

Director Moore just waited for him to run down, but it took a bit. The fellow was repeating himself and sounded whiny by the time he was done.

Then Becky walked over and slapped him again. Several times.

"Whee! I can keep this up all day, you yappy little puppy. If you want to play with the big kids you can't whimper every time you get a widdle boo-boo. Now stand up, and shut your mouth. You're making the rest of the people here look bad. Sergeant Wallace gets shot in the arm, and then goes to help with first aid, and getting you a late lunch. What do you do? Complain about some phantom slaps? How did you even get through boot camp?"

Scott cleared his throat. She wasn't wrong, but beating the man into submission wasn't really going to work.

"That's enough, Dharma. Let his own people deal with him. Right now, I believe that the Director was speaking?"

That got him stared at, by the whining man, while Kevin spoke again.

"Thank you, Prime. Yes, I was just going to add that this situation was unfortunate, but nothing to worry over. We all hope that this won't color your judgment of our organization. As you all noticed, there was another attempted attack at the same time as your own, which increased the tension level. It would be best for us to not further the hostilities, if possible?"

For him it was practically telling them not to talk about it at all. They would, since it was too good of a story to hold in. Ordering them not to would just have them posting online anonymously.

This way they'd know who to blame for the bad press they were going to get. Not that they didn't already. Dharma really needed to stop slapping people. Scott smiled at the thought, and knew he'd look smug. Self-assured and like it had all been his idea.

It was Sergeant Wallace that yelled then, having the right idea.

"Load up! Get your butts in the truck you came in. Collect up your rifles. We will have a count on the other end, so make sure you don't leave anything. Corporals, make sure your units have all their gear. Move!" He sounded efficient, and Lancaster watched him carefully, not saying anything until the trucks were underway.

"That kid's in for it when they get back. Hopefully he'll be smart enough to claim blood loss. He's probably too good for the reserves. So, anyone know what the hell is going on?"

Scott didn't, but Becky moved in and patted the muscular man in his black suit on the arm. "Oh, muscles. Um, well this is pretty much Braid and her crew, isn't it? That warping, with the plane and hostages being dropped, that was Tesseract. I've seen it before. Not a lot of people just make things like that happen. My best guess is that we're just starting today. Not that I know any more than the rest of you do." She looked at the base, and pointed, as the sky darkened a bit, and ripples distorted the air. "Oh, no, wait. I totally do. I forgot, I'm completely awesome. Silly of me. We need to get into place. This is... Different. Uh." She tried to focus, the stream of things from Brian's brain coming too fast for her to really make out clearly.

She went silent, as the black distortion slowly moved toward the ground, a name coming from the flow of data, after nearly half a minute. She looked at the Director and shrugged.

"Spetnaz Ultima?"

The old man stood up a bit straighter, and then looked around at them all.

"I see. Well, we're going to need everyone then. Battle stations." He sounded worried, which wasn't like him, so Scott let a black nimbus come into being around his hands. The beams of power he could produce weren't something he brought out every day, but it felt right, at the moment.

Moore nodded.

"Exactly. It seems that the IPB is about to have its first real super team battle. Just so you all understand, Alpha Squad was losing, when I made the other side vanish. I'd thought they were dead, but it seems the rules have changed?"

Prime took a deep breath. Alpha Squad had been made up of seven of the most powerful beings on the planet at the time. If they'd been losing, then whatever was coming from that distortion must be pretty bad.

Taking a step forward, he smiled.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of this." Then, foolishly, he started walking. Right toward where the new enemy was about to appear.

Chapter eight

"Well, this is a cluster." Becky was about to expound, but had to walk forward, since Prime was. The moron. If any of them were going to do that, it should Quartz. She was nearly impossible to hurt after all. He probably thought that he'd slap a few of whoever was coming around for a bit and they'd give up. Because if the original Alpha could do it, so could he.

Except that neither of them were in that league. She never had been. When she was alive she'd been a class three. Now she was possibly as good as a roomba would have been. She could pretend to be doing something, and made for a decent distraction, but that was about it. In a fight.

Just as she was about to explain that, a bolt of golden light passed through her.

"Oh, now that's not nice. We haven't even said hello yet." The next thing to come from the distortion was a mass of bodies. It was like they'd been shoved through a single hole, causing the twenty-three people that came through to be extruded, after a manner of speaking.

They ended up on the ground, just in time for Brian to come jogging out, with almost everyone at the base behind him. Level had stayed back, before, but tried to move in then. She had the hots for pretty much any guy that was nice enough to her. Especially Denis, but Brian was easily in her top ten. Being trapped in a manly looking armored suit didn't mean the woman inside was dead after all.

Not that being dead was an excuse that way. Dharma waved them all back.

"Hold up. These people aren't our enemy. They probably don't even know what's going on. Stand down!"

Brian looked at her, and then shrugged.

"Stand down! These are friendlies! Everyone stand down!"

A rather pinch faced woman in a gray outfit stood up and spat something at her. At first Becky figured it for chemical attack, but it was just Russian. Which, even dead and attached to Brian's mind, she didn't speak at all. No one there did either.

Luckily as the crowd of gray clad people stood up, looking ready to fight, a blond man off to one side managed some English.

"You Americans?"

Becky nodded. "Different ones from before. If we have it right, well... That fight is done. You've been gone for a while."

She waited, letting the Director walk up. Looking all old and just similar enough that a man in the back held his hand toward the ground, which had a collection of dust start to flow toward his right hand, making what looked like a rock at the end of his arm.

"You! This is your fault!" Rock hand's English was a lot better, so Becky waved him over, keeping herself uselessly between the Director and the angry seeming foreign man.

"After a manner of speaking. Can you translate for us? I'm Becky. It's... Look, I don't want to shock anyone, but this is about forty years later. You were trapped in a, um, different dimension, and just got back."

Brian slowly walked over, his face pleasant for once. Prime moved with him, his once nice suit looking like someone had pounded it with a bloody hammer before putting it on the good looking man. His hair was just a bit mussed, but the rest of him was flawless. It was easy to see him as being in charge, which the Russians seemed to accept instantly.

Director Moore moved in, actually being in command, which clearly didn't make Rock Hand feel any better. He growled. As in, made a low throat sound, like a dog.

"I'll kill you!" He didn't move, just turning a bit to look at Becky, as if she were going to be the one to stop him if he tried it. That was probably down to the fact that she'd just walked up on them as if nothing they could do would disrupt her calm at all.

It was true, but not for the reason Spetnaz Ultima would be thinking.

So she waved her hand a little, and smiled. It was probably for the best that she'd gone with regular girl makeup that day, given all this. Her Goth persona might have been a bit too intimidating.

"It wasn't done on purpose. You were just brought back by Tesseract. He's gone rogue, along with most of the group you were fighting. So, we aren't your enemies. We even have good relations with Russia, now." Not that the country they'd been from was still there. It had broken up, years before. Decades. She wasn't going to try and explain that to them, at the moment. It was probably going to end up being like those World War Two Japanese sailors that lived in the jungle for twenty years after the war, not realizing that things like that ended.

Rock Hand gave her a bitter look.

"We lost the cold war?" Then he said something in Russian, which had both a hard edge and a defeated tone.

It was Prime that moved in, speaking gently.

"Lost? It would be closer to say that we all called it off, due to stupidity. We don't even do things like this anymore. Super hero battles? Instead we pretty much just get along. Say, would you like something to eat? We have a good restaurant inside. Or, do any of you need a Doctor?"

The man that spoke first glared, but held his ground, seeming a bit scared for some reason. It could have been his first mode, but a lot of the people seemed a bit nervous. That might have been the sudden change of scenery. The man spoke, a deep golden glow coming into his eyes. That, no doubt, was where the ray had come from that hit her originally. The one that had just passed through her.

"You fool of us?" The man glanced around a lot, but landed on Prime, since he'd been speaking. The man shook his head, but Brian answered, sounding almost meek, for him.

"No. Not at all. We'll help you get in touch with your people, and if they don't want you, we'll offer you work here. The world has changed a lot, and we're your friends, that's all. We can go in, or if you feel more comfortable that way, we can have food brought out here? Telephones too. I'll need to get in touch with the President. Or at least his Chief of Staff. I don't have the Premier of Russia's number." The way he said it made it sound like an oversight on his part. Becky nodded, and moved in slowly, touching the blond man's arm, since his eyes were still glowing.

He moved back a bit, but didn't try to kill her again, which was a good sign, in her book.

"Maybe you'd all like to chat about that? You have full access to our facilities, if you want them." She didn't have the right to offer that, and didn't mean the secret files, but she really doubted these people were dumb enough to ask for that. One woman, near the back who had to be nearly eight feet tall, and was about four foot across the shoulder moved in a bit.

"Food would good? I eat, muchly." She seemed embarrassed about it. That was a bit strange, but Brian smiled up at her.

"We can handle that, I think. Do you all want to come in? It's safe. I'll go with you. Prime and Becky too. That way no one will bother us."

Bridget walked up and waved at the assembled foreign fighting group, standing right next to Becky, her arm nearly touching. Most of the people had to look down a lot to see her at all. One of the women moved in, fast, which had her knocked back by the girl. Before a fight could start, Golden Eyes laughed.

"You not little killer?"

From behind them there was a low and smoky chuckle. It sounded sexy and drastically out of place.

"No, Dmitri, she isn't me. She's my granddaughter. Impulse. It's probably best not to rush her like that again Katarine. Her reflexes are a lot like your own." There was a single clap. "Now, Brian invited you all to dinner? I think that's a wonderful idea. Things are different, and if you're willing to help, we need you. Not that Russia won't want you all. They're not doing well, as far as having a real team like they used to. They'd be stupid not to snap you all up. Let us have a crack first, while we get in touch with the right people? I think you'll find that it's worth at least entertaining the idea."

Katarine tried for Bridget again, and was knocked back down. Impulse however, held her ground, other than a single push against the woman's chest. She was nearly six feet tall, and wicked fast, but nothing that seemed to intimidate the little red head. From the looks that wasn't lost on the newcomers.

No one else tried to help her either, so it prevented a full on fight. It also showed a lot of discipline on Bridget's part. Then she'd been earning that control the hard way. Working with Hobbs.

The IPB people just all headed in, as if the plans were already made. That let Katarine hit Bridget finally, which sent her staggering, but not onto her face. Otherwise she just kept walking.

The woman from the old Soviet Union pulled a knife, and bounced it off the girl's back a few times, before getting the point. Putting it away she growled something.

Bridgie looked at her over her shoulder.

"Did you just ask me out on a date? I don't speak your language, but that sounded like you said you wanted to have sex with me? I guess we could do that." Then she walked over and took the woman by the hand, walking them both in. It was weird, but about two thirds of the other group laughed at it, even as Katarine struggled to get away a bit.

It was funny enough that Becky had to smile herself. For about ten seconds, then she sighed.

"Hey, Director Moore. Wait up." He was in the front, next to Rachel. No one tried to get them, which probably had a lot to do with the idea that the last time they'd tried anything with him they'd ended up being transported through time. When she got to him, she touched his arm. It was nice, being able to feel people again. She'd have to watch it, or people would think she was all clingy or that she wanted to screw everyone she met.

"Miss Young? You notice an issue, perhaps?"

She did, and it was one that might just be important. "What else is coming? You took out those nukes when the base was attacked. Are those next? Or something just as bad? Braid had to know that this was going to happen. That could mean this is more dangerous than it seems, or that... I don't really know. That's always the problem with her isn't it? That strange precognition is hard to beat. Are we ruining their plans right now, or feeding directly into them? This feels like a set up, but I can't tell how. It's like I'm missing something. Or a lot of things."

Kevin Moore didn't stop moving forward, or bother to whisper in her ear, giving her a glance that was so strained that she thought he might just soil himself right then and there.

"I have no clue. My best guess is that Devorah won't be able to see you, so might not have understood what would happen, thanks to your efforts. The plane, even this group coming back, I think they were both efforts to assassinate Proxy, directly. He would have died in that plane, if you hadn't coordinated things so well. Perhaps at least. The death of Wendy McConnell might well have disastrous consequences as well. Or not. There was little chance that Devorah didn't understand what would happen there. Brian is invisible to her, I've heard. You may well be. If we can resolve this without death, then we may well have defeated the day's plans." He looked back at Brian, who was chatting with Rock Hand. "Or not. This is clearly the most direct push that Alpha has ever made against us. We have to be ready for anything, but we can't afford to run right now. That would almost certainly trigger Spetnaz Ultima into battle. So far we've managed them well, but they are a formidable group of people."

He moved on, his face becoming calm again, as soon as he moved away from her. It didn't take them long to get to the restaurant, which had recently redecorated. The theme had shifted a bit, though it was still mainly in red and brown. Everything inside looked new and fresh, as if they'd just opened their doors. Brian moved toward her, thinking furiously.

She'd been a bit distracted, but genius boy was thinking a thousand miles a minute, working out what was coming. It was completely muddled. Going up against Devorah Timberland was doing that part of things for them, she figured. Everything they could get going, she'd see signs of, and move to counter, until they backed away from it, causing something else to possibly come into play. It was taking place so rapidly they were crippled as far as that kind of thing went. For the moment.

If they were lucky, Braid was too.

That might not happen, since her entire power was seeing things like that, and she'd grown up with the ability. Brian thought that might mean her neural networks were geared toward handling things like that, making her more powerful in that way. She'd once told him that he was more powerful than she was, but even that could have been a trick, meant to influence them later. To cause a mistake, that would help the woman win.

It was so frustrating. In the end, when they lost, it was probably going to be due to something stupid. Like they didn't know what to do, and did nothing. Or they figured out the plan in time, but turned out to just be wrong. If she'd been able to breathe, or needed to anymore, she would have been left gasping at it all.

Her loving host, Bri-Bri, just stared. His brown eyes seemed dead inside, for a few moments. She'd seen that before. Right after Melany Miller had died. For a few weeks, living inside his head, she really wondered if he was going to kill himself. Now it just seemed like he knew they were going to lose. If that happened, millions of people died. Maybe more than that.

The only saving grace was that Brian's first mode wouldn't let him give up. Not if people needed him. He knew that one, and didn't have to be reassured.

She moved in next to him, placing an arm around his back.

"Let's call the President? We need to get something moving here. I think the best we can do is just try to be nice about all this and help Spetnaz Ultima here out all we can. It seems like the last thing anyone would do, right?"

"Pretty much. I need to borrow a phone."

It was a pain in the ass, the way he always had to do that, but the fact was that it kept people from spying on him as easily. He claimed that it had to do with the fact that they'd break every time they fell. That was stupid, of course. They could get him one with a special padded case and it would be fine. This way the people listening to him would have to parse the actual information through another step or two first. That didn't mean he wasn't listened to, just that the bastards would have to work for it.

On occasion that seemed nearly worth it. Right now, well, a call coming in from an IPB office phone wasn't going to be encrypted. They didn't ask for a cell, just going to the office spaces on the second floor and ducking into Marcia Turner's office.

Brian did it, knowing it was the best option, but grimaced.

"I hope that she won't mind if I use her phone?" He was talking to her, but waved to Penny, who was sitting behind her own desk, visibly. That meant she was fair game, as far as paying attention to.

Becky snorted. "Why would she mind? She's your secret girlfriend after all." It was teasing, but the only one that got it was Penny, who handed her own phone over.

Brian just dialed from the hand piece, not commenting. His face was a bit dark, and not about the super team of enemy agents one floor above. Not that they were really enemies now. It all came down to how the Soviets felt about things.

She understood what was happening there though, and looked up at the ceiling. Brian thought that she'd been claiming that Penny was his secret sweetie. Even a year later, after being told by the girl that she wasn't looking to date anyone, Brian was going to be a little bitch-man about it. If he hadn't been trying to get in touch with the leader of the free world, she would have explained it all to him. As it was she just made an annoyed face. He knew better.

For one thing it was damned clear that the invisible girl loved him. Sure, she was banging Lancaster, which had been a technical no-no before, but Brian didn't know that. Except, his subconscious mind did. It sort of explained why he drew down on Darryl earlier. Jealousy. Brian Yi wasn't someone you wanted to feel pussy hurt around you.

She didn't have time for emotional drama that day. Particularly the one way kind. Penny was pretty much good to go with anyone that approached her right. Brian was just too attentive for that to work for her. It was his own fault. If he'd act like most men and just use her for sex, it wouldn't be a problem.

The President was on the phone directly, his voice worried.

"Is there another situation?"

Brian let out a low laugh, "that obvious? I need to call up to arrange barbeques more often then. To answer the question, yes. It looks like Tesseract dumped a group called Spetnaz Ultima on us? We managed to get that handled for now, without any real fighting, but we promised to get in touch with their people. Since, you get the idea, the Soviet Union disbanded, I was thinking that having someone to connect to in Moscow might be good?"

The slightly tired sounding man on the other end of the phone made clicking sounds in his own office.

"How is that possible? Didn't your Director cause them to disappear once? I thought that pretty much ended things. Is that wrong?"

"Unknown at this time. My guess is that Tesseract had found a way around it. I can think of a dozen ways to do that. It might be simply undoing Less's power. Or it might be that he used time manipulation to steal them, back in the day. It seems kind of obvious to me, but if people weren't paying attention, it might work. Not everyone can see time and space distortions. That isn't really the point for the moment. What do you want done with this team? We put an offer on the table, to recruit them, if they want. The idea right now is that us future types are all sweetness and light. I recommend we keep that up. It's working and anyone starting something with this crowd is an idiot."

"The undercurrent here is that I better not be an idiot, then?" President Lawrence sounded dry, rather than amused.

Brian just didn't care. It resonated in his voice.

"I'm not that worried about you. There are people near you that might just think starting a giant battle out here will only benefit them. I disagree, personally."

"I'll see what I can do. Can I reconnect at this number?"

"Yeah. It's Penny Cooper's desk phone. You should probably keep the number in case you need her for anything. We spoke about that?"

There was dead air for almost a minute.

"I remember. I'll do that. My daughter assures me that she makes an annoying and very hard to shake, guard, which is a positive from my perspective. I'll have something for you soon." He didn't say goodbye. The President probably didn't have to. It came with the job.

Along with people calling up and acting like they knew more about things than you did, she was willing to guess.

She let Brian hang up the phone before going at him. Penny just sat there, her mouth open wide enough for flies to land if that wanted too.

"Now, what the fuck, Bri-Bri? You will not get your panties in a twist over me saying you have a secret girlfriend here. I didn't mean Penny, anyway."

He looked at her like her head was made of something gross. It wasn't a pleasant expression at all.

"No? Who did you mean then? Peggy?"

Penny giggled a bit, into her sleeve. The hand and arm that showed were visible, but that was dye. It took staying relaxed for that to show up, even for Becky. Brian could see her most of the time, but that was due to the fact that he was the psycho protective man. Self-sacrifice personified. He'd figured out almost instantly that she needed to be seen, at least by someone, so had forced himself to ignore all the psychic stuff that came at him all the time from her. It was impressive. Also why the girl both loved and couldn't stand to be around him too much. She was shy, as a first mode, and didn't want to be noticed too much.

It was a circle of magical fuckitude.

After a bit Penny managed to relax enough that she was nearly solid. Her voice was still soft and shy sounding. It was hard for her to control.

"Marcia. It's a joke really. She, you know, likes you. Everyone here knows that. Even Mike Conroy mentioned it to me, while we were training? Her ex-husband, so he knows what she's like when it comes to things like that. When I teased her with it she didn't deny it at all." There was a bit of tease in that statement too, but not that much.

Becky knew that it had to be hard for Penny to say things like that at all.

So, if he thought about it, did Brian. Without bothering to comment, as if it simply couldn't be true that an attractive women would be interested in him, he went on, explaining about everything. Penny knew, of course. It was why she had not two, but three firearms right there with her. If Spetnaz Ultima had defeated the people outside, a lot of them were going to die anyway. Maybe all of them.

Most people couldn't really take a bullet to the head and just walk away. It was really hard to block Penny too. She could shoot people standing right next to another person, and they'd never hear the shot being fired. She had a knife there, too.

She wasn't immune to random flailing, or ray beams, but as long as she was careful, not many people would survive her. It made her a nearly perfect killer. Plus, the fact was that she was pretty much a psychopath. Oh, a nice one, who seemed harmless on the surface, but most people were a lot more bothered when they killed people than she was. Prime was more worked up about Crandall, for instance.

Which was a point.

"So, who's on Prime watch? We need to keep him from freaking out and killing a bunch more people. I wouldn't want to be Team Two right now. At least some of them have managed to be reassigned. That's a situation that's ready to blow up. I'd get Bridgie for it, but she's just as bad. Honestly, I'm sort of surprised that she hasn't managed to off anyone yet." Not that Becky blamed the others. At the time she'd been pretty close to making a try for Prime herself, and it was only that she lacked a physical form that had saved him.

Even Penny was of a like mind. She'd stayed out of things, not liking crowds, but she'd been on the detail trying to spy on Prime and Charlot.

Only Brian had been willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"We need you on that one, I think. Bridget is the wrong person there and Lancaster is busy." He didn't say why, but clearly didn't feel good about that one.

Penny looked at her, since girls had to stick together.

Becky shook her head, but spoke the words, so that Brian wouldn't have to. He felt responsible for it all.

"Darryl is Infected. The Carla Morris shit storm got him. Cool power, but he's kind of out of a job here for the time being. Well, changing jobs. It's going to send the Agents into a tailspin, if we aren't careful. They haven't said a lot, but I bet they're all freaked. This will be three Agents lost to one event. One dead, one out the door for being Infected, and one thrown into gen-pop with us, because he's too dangerous to release into the wild. Bracksburg was crippled by his Infection, or he'd still be here too, I bet." The third Agent had become so fascinated with counting things that he pretty much didn't move without being prompted. Whatever his power was, he didn't use it at all. That gave him a place in a rest home, and a life not worth living at all.

Penny made a face and then vanished, hard enough that Brian seemed to lose her too. Part of that was him making sure not to try too hard with her. It showed an amazing level of skill on his part. They didn't forget about the girl, like most people did. That meant no jumping as she managed to come back. She stood, but then sat down, laughing a little.

"I feel like I should run to him, and tell him I'll make it all better. I can't though. I have to stay here and wait for the President to call me. How lame is that?"

Becky moved in and gave her a little hug, which was returned, but only for about five seconds, then she sat back and looked determined. The ghost thought she understood.

Lancaster wasn't hers. He couldn't be, due to a hundred factors. She liked him, but it was so clear that it couldn't work in the end, that even she knew not to really try. It was like that with all the men on the base too. Most of them would have taken her to bed, or to dinner, if she wanted. About twenty of them would have dated her long term, even. Except that she couldn't handle being that close to anyone.

The Agent, who'd been forbidden to dally with an Operative, at least officially, had been as close to safe as she could have and still let someone else know she was in the room. Operative Lancaster was probably going to find that his little piece of tail was about to start avoiding him, if he didn't pull back himself.

The only good thing there was her. Becky the ghost girl. She could warn him first, and explain it all, in a way that Cellophane never could. If nothing else he could save their working relationship. They were a field team, and really, there was no rule or law that said he needed to be an Agent for that. He'd just been the best person for the job of Penny wrangling that they'd had, and probably still was. As long as Penny was willing to keep working with him. It was a lot more important to the IPB than either of them getting lucky, so he'd better not screw things up.

Not that she had time for this kind of stupid drama. She had a whole other set of things to feel all worried and tense about. Like why the President was taking so long. It had been nearly five minutes already. Just as she was about ready to make fun of him for what was probably a pretty normal time lag, the phone rang.

Penny got it on the first ring, since it was her desk.

"IPB, Penny Cooper speaking. Deputy Director Turner's office." Then she made a strange face and nodded. "Let me set that up? We can transfer the call. They're eating right now... That's right... I don't know, here, wait a second? I can ask." She didn't hold her hand over the mouthpiece, just looking up at Brian, who was in front of her desk. "What are we offering Spetnaz Ultima if they stay on here? Regular pay, but do they get a signing bonus or anything? I can throw in back rubs if they want." Penny fought a giggle, and Brian shrugged, his voice actually sounding serious when he spoke.

"State of the art training facilities. As much freedom as any of us get here. Good food. I can't think of anything else. Is that President Lawrence? We can ask, if he wants. Maybe the team will have some ideas about what they want?"

Penny giggled, sounding too young for an important job at the moment. Then she looked up at Becky, as if she needed to come up with something too.

The invisible girl spoke instead.

"No, this is the President of Russia. Don't worry, sir, I'm sure that if you offer them a home, they'll be pretty pleased with the idea. They have to be feeling lost right now. I'll transfer the call for you now."

Then she did, her fingers tapping the code in, like she did it all the time.

Chapter nine

Their new Russian friends had a real problem, Scott understood pretty quickly. Really it was more than one, which had to be hard to take.

The first thing was that about half of them were in denial about the year. They'd just been in nineteen seventy-seven to their perception, and in Iceland. Being in Montana, thirty-seven years later with only a bit of purple and black distortion as a guide was too confusing for most of them to process.

Then, as if to add insult to the injury already present, they were told, point blank, that most of them couldn't really go home. Only seven of the Infected group were from Russia, and as shocking as it probably seemed, no one really wanted the Ukraine to get their five people back. Russia viewed them as a terrorist state. Secretly, but the President seemed willing enough to mention it to the assembled Spetnaz Ultima members. That wasn't something that Dmitri or Olga, the giant woman, really seemed to like hearing.

Not because they were from there, either.

They weren't. It was simply that the people with them that were couldn't be counted on not to show a sudden surge of nationalistic pride. Not once they internalized the idea that the Soviet Union was no more.

Luckily, most of them didn't seem to be picking up on that one.

"Nyet!" This came from Katarine, who was busily trying to both eat, and keep one of her fighting knives in her left hand. She didn't really add much to the conversation, just shouting no, every minute or two. Scott didn't want to judge, not understanding what was being said, but she really didn't seem to be all that bright.

Hungry, which he understood. About half of them ate pretty well, sitting around the four long tables that had been moved to the center of the room. The table cloths were a deep burgundy now, and there were real candles in the holders, lit for ambience. The one good thing, as far as he could tell, was that none of the new people were willing to get drunk at the moment. They were Soviets, and everyone knew they drank like fish.

Except for these hardened super soldiers. That was a good plan. Having a drunk man who could spew out poison by mistake was probably a horrible idea. They didn't have a rundown of powers yet, but it was pretty clear that they were about at the level of Team Two that way. Class three and four, mainly. How they'd been winning against Alpha Squad was pretty clear, after a while. They weren't in that power class, as a group but all of them were special forces members. They hadn't been given a choice in the matter. The Soviets had taken them as soon as they popped, and killed anyone that wouldn't cooperate fully.

It sounded familiar, to be honest. Even their training wasn't that different than what most of the people at the base did. It was brought up by Rachel, who was getting glares from about half the table still. Apparently, back in the day, Foggy had killed more of them than anyone else in the world had managed. Hence them calling her "Little Killer". It wasn't said lovingly.

The man with the golden eye beams kept shaking his head at her, and addressing her and Kevin, almost exclusively.

"We have no land? No place to be? You took this from us! This is not allowed." He seemed pretty firm on the idea, and his English was getting better as time went on. That was probably thanks to his nerves beginning to settle a bit.

Becky had come back, and moved in next to him, as if they were together. It would be a bit awkward if she was going to act like that. He was trying to be good, but Charlot wasn't going to trust him to be. Probably ever. After the first forty or so affairs, she'd kind of given up. It made her angry to see him doing things like that, so he'd hidden it a bit, over the years. Now it would seem like he was just getting better at not being noticed.

That wasn't the point. A lot of people around him now had told him that being faithful seemed stronger to them, if not in so many words. That was enough for him to act on. If he kept reminding himself that it was the case.

She didn't touch him, or anything, but did lean in a bit.

"I don't think we're needed here now. Brian and Director Moore can handle it. We should-" She stopped talking and stood so suddenly that Katarine did too, leaping to the side, ready to fight. That got ignored. Everyone was pretty much used to it by now. Hyper reflexes could be that way.

"Brian! We're up! You need to be running, right fist punching at head height in ten seconds." There was a flurry of motion, and the man in black spun out of his chair and ran straight at the door to the place, which was open at least. He vanished, doing what the ghost had told him.

Prime looked at it and explained, his voice slightly less than enthused.

"His power. When someone is about to die, he goes and takes their place. He doesn't have any powers otherwise, and can only take a special ultra-light knife with him."

Olga, the big one, turned and looked at him closely. She had heavy features, and was so far from pretty that she nearly didn't look human. More like a Neanderthal. One that lifted weights as a profession.

"Girl?" She looked at where Becky had been, so he got it.

"She's a ghost. A real one. That's connected to him. When he goes away, she does too." He didn't explain about the rest, since it took a long time for the concepts to be explained. They all got the idea pretty quickly, after Boris did.

Faster than he got that their given names, what he thought of as their real names, weren't. They just had code names that were the equivalent of calling someone John Smith. Boris, Dmitri, Olga. There was an Ivan and Ivana, too.

It was just different than what he was used to, so it had thrown him for a bit. Just as he was about to start worrying, Brian was back, along with Becky. He promptly collapsed, but at least this time they had an explanation. There had been a witness they could talk to.

"It was Tesseract and Trivia. Brian, he did something. I don't know what it was, but Tesseract screamed. I managed to slap Trivia. Since I was way out of range, that means her power lets her know that I'm around. Not that it hurt her at all. She jumped back. I... Think that we should get him to medical?"

Scott leaped to his feet, and noticed the Olga the giantess did too, moving in beside him, as if it were her job. He was about to let her know that he didn't really need help carrying Brian, being that he was so small, when Becky waved at him.

"Olga, can you bring him? I don't think he's damaged physically, not broken, but, sort of bruised inside? That feels right." She didn't even look back at the table.

Hopefully that meant it was the right thing to do.

"Me take." She moved to do it carefully, as about half of the people at the table stood up to look at them.

One of the men glared at Scott, as if it were his fault, and then walked over, saying something to Olga as she turned. It was in Russian, which was annoying, since he only knew a few words of that language. Da and nyet, to be exact. Yes and no.

The man was suggesting to his cohort that it might be a trap. It didn't take a genius to get that one. So he shrugged and gestured to the man, then turned to walk away. They were either a danger, or not. Treating them like one would be a good way to start an issue, even if there didn't have to be one.

They hurried to the elevator, and when he turned to see who had followed, he was a bit shocked to find that it was only two other people. Both from Spetnaz Ultima. An older looking woman that had to be pushing fifty, with gray hair and a thin body that looked hard. Next to her was the man that had spoken. He was different looking. Short, being only about five feet tall, and green. His hair was black, but the rest of him all matched, except for the heavy gray outfit.

Scott waved them in, and wondered if there was going to be a problem. No one said anything, so he decided on a running commentary.

"We have two medical levels. One for injuries and illnesses, on the tenth floor. If you need a band-aid, or surgery for anything, that's the place to go. It's where we're headed now." He pushed the button, and watched closely as everyone went a bit wide eyed as their stomachs dropped. It was an express elevator, after all. A high end thing that wasn't in use for civilians.

That meant the doors were opening as he said the next line.

"The eighth floor is where they put us when we have mental problems. It happens."

The older woman spoke then, her voice a bit sultry, which seemed out of place. Her English was pretty close to flawless too.

"Is that your prison then? Where they take you for re-education?" She seemed knowing. Her words left him feeling as if that were the way things were simply done.

Maybe in her world it was. It was a different time and place now, so he shook his head, letting Becky explain the situation.

"Nope. It's a straight up mental ward. They even let you out as soon as you calm down. I used to have to spend time there, when I was about to kill myself. This way... we need to get a doctor around." She waved and moved forward, yelling. "Kern! Brian's down. Some kind of space warp trick, I think. I didn't understand it. It wasn't really power based at all. It was... moving in a direction that I can't."

The man that moved over didn't seem to understand who the people with them were at all, and called for a bed.

"Can you bring him over here? We should be careful. We'll need a scan on this."

The huge woman saw the nurses and other doctors run up, and settled Brian into the right place as if he were her sleeping child, not an enemy fighter. That was a good sign, as far as Scott was concerned.

He watched along with the rest of them as the unconscious man was taken away. The older woman just stared around the place for a while. It was done up in nice colors. Tan and blue. It looked sharp and professional, which seemed to impress her a bit.

"This is nice. Is the whole place this decadent? We heard tales of how soft you Americans are." Then she repeated what she said in Russian, getting Olga to spit something back, sounding a bit embarrassed. "She says not to insult the pretty man and woman."

He shrugged, but Becky looked a bit embarrassed herself. She wasn't used to being called attractive. He was. It was one of the first things that people often said to him.

"None taken. It's not a horrible place. It's-" He nearly didn't say the words, but then looked at them and made a bit of a face. It was a strong and disdainful thing, which got the man to bristle a bit, thinking he was being subtly insulted. "It's still a prison. Not that strict of one, but we can't leave without permission. We don't really have a choice about working here either. If you're too powerful, then you don't."

He expected them to react to that, but they didn't. Becky moved back to the door they came through.

"Brian's awake. He should be fine. Just uncomfortable for a bit. Like if he ran full speed into a wall? He thinks we should tour the place, then take a walk outside, so you three can tell everyone all about this place. They can see too, but while we're here?"

There was no answer, since three more people were walking toward them from down the hallway. All ones that Scott recognized, so he smiled and spoke as if he were there just for them. It wasn't exactly right, but people normally didn't mind that part of his personality. Just the ones where he seemed to be saying he was better than they were.

"Doug! Felicia! Ms. McConnell." Two of them limped, and the man was walking slowly, alongside Soar. She wasn't quick at the best of times. Her legs were a bit stubby for that. In the air she was pretty quick, which made up for a lot.

Doug was new, and not exactly a politician, but he was also friendly enough to make up for a lot of issues that might have been a problem. He sized up the new people and smiled, even if McConnell looked ready to soil herself. That was either because of his shining radiance blinding her, or the fact that Olga was staring a bit.

At Soar, not her, so it wasn't that big of a deal.

Tibs stuck out his hand, directly to the giant lady first.

"Hi, I'm Doug. Are you new here?" There was an innocence to the words that carried. Into other languages too. That was clear by the look on the faces there.

Each one took his hand in turn, and the older woman didn't let go for a while, taking his hand in both of hers.

"I'm Svetlana. The others here are Olga and Pieter. Our status is uncertain at this time. Are you to be one of our guards?"

It was a loaded question. Three people showing up in medical like that really could have been a sign that the Soviets weren't trusted. Doug didn't have any bandages on either. Felicia did, but the two wraps around her ankles were both blue and different looking enough that it could have been her clothing. She was naked otherwise.

There was no way to warn Tibs either, that he might be walking into a trap. Luckily, even if the man wasn't a stellar intellect, that didn't mean he was a fool, either.

"Are you going to be under attack? I'm kind of on light duty right now. I used my power too much today and have a killer headache. We can call someone, if you need? Who's after you?"

It was said genuinely enough that Svetlana laughed, if only a bit.

"Ah, a polite keeper then? Better than the other kind, no? Shall we tour then?"

Becky looked around, then gestured at Scott, getting him to move off to the side.

"What do you think? Wendy needs to see things, and if Pieter and Olga accidently crush her, we can't be held responsible for that, right?" She was joking, it was clear.

It still wasn't a horrible plan. Scott turned and smiled, radiantly.

"We should start at the bottom and work our way up. This way? Felicia, you should probably sit this one out. We're in for some walking, and you're injured." It came out sounding like he didn't want her around, which wasn't the case at all. She didn't talk, and looked at him with enough hero worship that it actually hurt a bit to send her away like that. That kind of thing had a stronger influence on him than it did most people. "You can join us for dinner? We'll probably be a bit late for that. I need to eat again, or will in about an hour. Olga?"

It made sense to him, but she seemed embarrassed again, as if her raw size wouldn't require more food than most people.

"Da." She looked away, as if feeling like she were going to be judged for it. Given everything it was probably linked to her first mode then. That one would be hard to deal with, constant feelings of embarrassment. Hopefully he was wrong about that.

Becky smiled, actually managing to be charming about it all.

"Great. You can come too, Doug. We have all of Spetnaz Ultima here. Tesseract seems to have dropped them off. From the seventies." She looked at the two operatives, but it was the McConnell witch that went wide eyed.

"Fuck me sideways. I thought you were all killed?" She stared and then made a derisive face, which got Pieter to glare back at her. "This will play well in the news later. I need to find out more. So, dish. It's harder to come up with a hit piece than you might think. We can talk as you all pretend to not be filling us with your hatred of America. Though honestly you should all like it now. We've pretty much become the old Soviet Union. Just with better plumbing. National health care, constant spying on the people, pretty much everything you'll be missing at home. Not that Russia is any better. Things have changed. They're more like us now."

That got the older lady to sneer, getting that the pretty blonde woman was being a bitch, regardless of her tone. Olga just seemed to be responding to that, and went slightly stiff.

Not being one to pull her punches, Becky waved at Wendy and laughed.

"She's a national news figure, here. Pretty much one of the biggest haters and divisive figures in the country right now. Try not to kill her. Unless, you know, you can make it look like an accident? Doug and Felicia here saved her once today, but it hasn't seemed to make her very grateful."

They walked to the elevator, but put Felicia in first. Surprisingly, Wendy climbed in next to her and then made a face.

"Well, get on, you morons. We aren't just dumping her in this can. We need to get her into bed, or at least a chair, so she can rest. Where's your room, honey?"

Becky snickered a bit, and Svetlana looked ready to slap the woman, but Olga climbed on, which got Doug to follow her. Prime ended up being last.

"Well! On the good side, if you're all willing to put up with Ms. McConnell's treatment, we might have a place for you in our ranks, after all." Scott sounded pleased about it. "As hazing goes it's a bit more than I'd actually subject a new person here to. So, we were talking about how this is a prison. We have a real one of those, on level thirteen. For people that commit crimes that are bad enough to need correction, but not enough to warrant death. First mode issues are generally handled as mental health problems. If you step outside of that however, there can be real punishment."

Next to Olga, near the back, Becky snorted. It was enough to get him to smile in return.

"Way to sell the place. I'd like to point out that it's empty right now. It isn't like people are down there all the time."

Pieter looked at Svetlana and said something that as soon as it was translated meant that he actually understood more of the conversation in English than he'd been letting on.

The older lady touched Scott's arm, and didn't let go.

"What is that? First model?"

"First mode. Infected people all have one. They can be different, but you've noticed how everyone had a different emotional or mental state that they normally fall back on all the time? That's their first mode."

The foreign people all seemed baffled at first, so Becky gestured them onto the all blue fifth floor, and explained, as they walked down the hallway, very slowly.

"When I was alive I used to be incredibly angsty. You know, I felt that the world didn't understand me, lived near depression all the time? I eventually killed myself. Doug here doesn't feel anger, annoyance or jealousy. Prime is a narcissist. You know, really into himself, thinking he's better than everyone else all the time?" At least she was playing a bit on that last line. He still coughed, covering his mouth with a large golden hand.

"I actually feel a compulsion to present myself well, at all times. Most people can't tell the difference. It's something that's a constant problem, since first modes are often different than what the psychologists initially project. Your people will have them too. If you can't help but do something, short of murder, we generally give people a pass on it. We don't blame them. Anything else is punishable. If you break a law." Except that it wasn't true. Even then they got special privileges after a fashion.

Felicia wanted to go to the television room, where most of Team Two had gone after they were told they weren't needed for the time being. Kerry, who could pass for normal, was still up with everyone else in the restaurant. Terry Kines wasn't there either, but, strangely enough, Mickey from Team One was.

He was armed, but no one seemed to care, since he was also so happy all the time that it was hard to take that as being a threat.

Olga moved with Felecia and helped her claim a spot in a very large and well padded chair. Doug explained what had happened, which had everyone on their feet, and Mickey running off to get the woman something to drink. She'd need a long straw. Her beak made normal eating a little awkward.

After a few minutes of fussing over the injured woman, who seemed to be enjoying the attention, everyone turned and looked very wary. The entire room, all ten people, were focused on Wendy.

Becky pointed that out to Pieter, "I did mention that you weren't going to be the big deal here today, didn't I? Anyway, this crew is probably going to be your new team, if you decide to stay. If not, you should become pen-pals."

Everyone was introduced, one at a time, and Mickey came back with a juice box and that extra long straw. He was one of the best, when it came to understanding what other people would need. His power didn't relate to that at all, but other than simple joy, he seemed to have a lot of insight into the minds of others. His power was pretty simple really. He could shoot or throw anything, and always hit his target. Even if it moved, or the person tried to block.

It sounded pretty minor, but Scott had been taken down by the man in practice, with him doing nothing but throwing bean bags. Little ones that only weighed a half pound each. From the way he was currently doting on the reptile like flyer, it seemed like he visited the fifth floor more often than Scott had been.

That needed to change. It was actually part of the official plan too. Felicia was slated to be on Team One, eventually. Brian had come up with the idea, but Charlot loved it. The girl wasn't pretty, but like Tobin, she was exotic and didn't look too dangerous, being small. She also didn't speak, which meant no talking back. Char loved that idea, too.

There was almost no one left, since almost everyone that could pass for normal had been shipped out months before. The people in the room were hard, and powerful, but too easily pointed out as Infected. Except for Mickey and Svetlana. The rest of them couldn't pass. Becky oddly enough might make it, as long as Christian was backing her up. The hard part was that she could only touch people. Even that wasn't real, but physical objects were beyond her. Other ghosts got to do that, in stories, but so far she hadn't had any luck with it at all.

"Felicia, you're coming to dinner with us in an hour? Why not bring everyone? We have guests. We should all meet them. Even if they leave, having friends in other places can't hurt. Mickey, will you set that up? I might not have the time to let everyone know whose coming."

The man stood up from where he'd been kneeling, next to the chair Soar was in.

"Is that the best idea, Scott? Her feet are hurt."

That was a real point. He had no idea how long it would take for her to heal from that either. Before he could say anything, Olga and Pieter started to talk to each other. It was translated after a few lines.

"Olga has offered to come and carry the tiny comrade, so that she will not miss the meal."

Scott moved and patted the larger woman on the back, smiling. Level, who was on the sofa shifted, her voice soft.

"I can do that? Or we can get Kerry down to do it? That might work better? She can levitate her around."

There was talk them about how to best move the woman, but it didn't take long to work out. Then they got to the tour, without picking up anyone else. That meant they were on level fifteen not five minutes later.

The set up was pretty normal. A half mile of obstacle course, a dozen strange machines and a redheaded man with a beard electrocuting Dennis over in a corner. Next to them, getting the same treatment was Tobin, and Bridget.

Becky pointed everything out, as Carl, the trainer jogged over, his face shifting from annoyed to flat as he moved into place. Then as he looked at the new people, it turned to a smile.

"The obstacle course. Prime and the large woman go first, then the green man and the distinguished lady here. Go!" Scott got hit on the arm, but went. It was the rule on the fifteenth floor. You either did what Carl said, or he kicked you off.

He'd sent away heads of state, more than once. He'd also let a touring scout troop stay once. It didn't always make sense, what he did. Not until later. Right now, apparently, they needed to do the obstacles, or else. He ran, knowing that flying through the thing wasn't the order of the day. If it was, he'd have been told to do that that.

It was a real race too. Olga was big, but a bit more agile than he was, and plenty fast. Less than a minute later, pushing as hard as he could manage, they came back to where Becky and Carl stood talking. The thin man, who wore a baggy climbing shirt and skin tight black shorts that hugged his butt a bit too much for public consumption, waved the two gasping people over, while they waited for Pieter, who wasn't that far behind, and a struggling Svetlana. Whatever her power was, it didn't seem to be physical in nature. Still, a fifty odd year old woman managing the thing at all was impressive. It wasn't built for Marines after all. It was for people that could do standing twenty feet long jumps. She had to cheat in places, but three minutes later she was back too.

Carl nodded at her once.

"Next time I expect better. The course changes every week, so don't get used to it always being this easy. Svetlana, I'd like you to work in with that group over there. It's an extreme mental training regime. That will help increase your range. Now, get off my floor. Send the others down if they're staying. I don't have time to mess around with anyone not willing to work."

They got out of there before the intense man could give them more orders. Becky seemed pleased enough by the whole thing.

"Carl is one of the best trainers in the world. It looks like you three at least will be staying? Otherwise get ready for him to infiltrate Russia and put you through your paces anyway. That would make him pissy though, so I can't recommend it." The ghost patted Svetlana on the arm. "You did really well. I figured that he'd just kick you out, to tell the truth. He did with the President when he came to visit. That isn't a joke either. It was the last one, not President Lawrence, but he practically tossed the man out on his ear."

They went up the stairs, since the next level of interest was only one floor up. The regular gym.

Doug took over, pointing at things.

"My home away from home. Everyone has to work out. It depends what Team you're on as to how much. I do a lot, since I used to be kind of chubby." He held his hands out, exaggerating the amount of weight that he'd lost. "If you don't have a physical power, you should expect to be in here at least two to four hours a day. In the afternoon we have unarmed and hand weapons training in here too. Not everyone does that."

Then it was, strangely enough, floor by floor. That meant going to the second floor and back down to the prison area. Pressing the call button for the special elevator, Scott waited.

"Thirteen. What's the situation?"

"This is Prime. We're giving a tour, to some prospective new hires. They'd like to see your area. Are you ready for that kind of thing?"

There was a pause, and then the voice came back sounding bland.

"We're empty right now, but if that works for you, I can send the transport."

It didn't take long. Neither did the tour of the actual cells. All three of the people seemed nervous, until they left, the door to the elevator slamming shut behind them.

The people in gray all muttered, but didn't seem upset. He didn't get it until Svetlana explained to him.

"We thought, perhaps, that you were to lock us in."

He shook his head.

"No. Not even as a joke. We need friends too badly for things like that."

Wendy McConnell hadn't been speaking at all for a while, and didn't now. She just seemed a bit sad, as far as he could tell.

It was strange, coming from the angry little woman.

Chapter ten

Just as everyone came to dinner, Becky was a regular ghost again. There was no warning, she was simply gone. Left all alone in a room full of people that couldn't tell she was even there at all.

It was sort of strange, but Trivia had known she was there. The woman had an interesting power, which basically made it so she knew everything that anyone else did. If a person knew a fact, or a trick, she did too. It wasn't telepathy, strictly speaking, she just knew things. That seemed to work for dead girls too. At least ones inside someone else's head.

She was also an IPB spy. For thirty years or more, the woman had gone along with Braid, collecting information, and making it seem like she was well and truly on the crazy woman's side. It had to be hellish in a lot of ways. For instance, she'd almost certainly been part of what Tesseract and Braid had done that day already. Her own friends put at risk, just so she wouldn't be found out. It was the job, and as with almost everything, she did it well.

At the moment Becky had a choice. She could either go and see if Brian needed her, and have some minor validation as a person that way, or she could check on Christian and make certain that the woman wasn't having a brain hemorrhage from all the work she'd been doing that day, projecting the little ghost girl into everyone's head.

It turned out that she was able to kill two birds with one stone there. Chris was in medical, visiting Brian. That meant blocking him out as hard as she could, which had Becky shut right down, not being projected like she had been. It was weird, since she could still feel Chris, in her head. Just like she could Brian. They were still connected that way. Tied together.

The woman still looked up, her face pained, when Dharma walked into Brian's regular room in the hospital area. She had an electronic pad in her hand, and was tapping on the screen, taking notes.

"Becky! Are things going well today? I've been trying not to eavesdrop." She didn't mention the level of shielding she had up at the moment, which was all due to the pain Brian was in. "Since this event had to do with our enemies, I thought that collecting the information was important. So, you used Tesseract's power against him? How? Is it a new manifestation of your own abilities?"

Brian looked up at Becky and winced a bit. His head was aching in a shattering manner that probably showed a dire need for healing. That meant getting him into town, to visit Elizabeth. She tried to do the math on it all, but knew there just wasn't enough time for her to go and do that with him, even though it would be required. The coffee shop, Mary's, was about fifteen miles down the road. It had to be done. Leaving Brian injured right then was insane. As in it could end up with him being dead.

She'd promised to get with Karen after dinner, at about eight. Not that dealing with Spetnaz Ultima wasn't going to be enough to stop that anyway.

For being dead, she was suddenly really busy. It was nice, after a fashion.

Brian knew better than to shrug or even wince when injured. He'd had a lot of practice. So he spoke, softly. His voice dark.

"When Tesseract uses his abilities, he becomes part of everything inside his distortion field area. I couldn't move much, but I was able to try and move in three different directions at once, thanks to what he was doing. It wouldn't normally work. So I managed to start pulling myself apart. He wasn't ready for it, and had to leave the area. If he hadn't, I think I would have killed him. It was close."

Becky did her best sarcastic sneer.

"Right. You nearly killed yourself too. Since that would take me out, at the same time, please excuse me while I keep suggesting a better plan? I don't have one, but you're the genius. Go forth and be intelligent, oh great one." She didn't even pretend to pat him on the head. He was too raw for that.

"Yeah, not the best plan ever. I learn, a little, each time I see him use his ability. I should be able to come up with something that doesn't have us both dying. You and I. He pretty much has to go down. We should get ready for whatever is coming next. Even if he's out of action, like I am, Braid won't let things rest there. I don't think she can now. We're moving to close to the cusp here. Either her war starts soon, or it won't. I'm thinking we have three or four months, at most. Less than that really."

Christian nodded, and pretended to write it all down. It was mainly about not looking at Brian, who really did seem the worse for wear.

"Ah. I should go and report this then. I-" She glanced at Becky, who shrugged.

It was clear what Chris was thinking, just like it was with Brian. She couldn't take the pain, and low self-esteem boy couldn't get that her running away from him wasn't about his being ugly or a bad person in her eyes.

It was a cycle really. Brian got hurt, which hurt Chris to be around. He took her leaving him as a personal rejection, which made her really not like him as much as she probably should have. Toss in that her first mode made being around others uncomfortable at the best of times and you had a soup of muddled emotions and hurt feelings that was fit for a king.

A delicious soup of unshed tears.

She winked.

"That works. Brian and I need to abuse the good will of some people in town anyway. We should get some coffee. I have to reschedule with Karen, since we're supposed to have a big heart to heart in an hour. You get the picture. I killed myself, but it was all her fault. That kind of thing? She won't let me even have that much control over my own life. Not that I'm bitter, but really, if anything is a personal choice, offing yourself is, right?"

Swallowing, her delicate, very pale throat working a few times, Christian stood, nodding.

"I don't agree with it, as a rule. Do you wish me to call her for you? Or do you have enough time to handle it in person?"

"I'll do it. Otherwise she'll probably think I'm avoiding her. I'm not." It was true.

The avoidance wasn't of her sister, just the conversation that Becky didn't want to bother with. Still, being dead had taught her a few things. One of them was that having someone to talk to was important. Even if that did mean her too pretty and superior older sister.

The bitch.

Smiling, she waved at Chris's back, the light yellow skirt she was wearing had an embroidered pattern of flowers, in exactly the same color as the background. It meant that to see it, you pretty much had to stare. In this case at her behind. She looked over to see Brian doing exactly that. It beat the crap out of him always going on about how Chris hated him.

"So, Bri-Bri, I need to get to that now. Can I meet you in the lobby in say... Fifteen minutes? If our friends are around. You should call first. See if Mary's up for a booty call." She was teasing, but mentioning the alien healer in town would have her whisked away into a secluded prison to wait on the rich and famous faster than Argos could do a spit take.

"Good idea. I'll set things up. Or not. Call it twenty minutes? I need to find someone that can drive us. I'm not certain I can do it right now, and you're still having those issues with solid objects. You need to get on that one."

She chuckled. "Being able to even fake touch people is pretty cool. You should ask Prime to drive us. Mary is his mom after all. Bridgie can come too. It will be like a family reunion." She hadn't mentioned Charlot, but she also didn't really like her that much. The woman had been a bit mean to her, near the end of her life. After Becky had slept with her husband, true. She'd been a selfish little bitch back then, but some feelings had lingered a little. They were probably on tap for a long heart to heart soon too. One with yelling and Charlot hitting at her. The woman wasn't friendly to most people.

By the time she got to Karen's room, she was already in. Early, which meant to her that the coming meeting was really important. She was even knocking back a drink, in preparation. Becky got there in time to see her fill the glass again, not looking up. Then she downed it like it was water, and she was on a time schedule.

"Whoa, I knew that drinking problems ran in the family, but even Grandpa Joe sipped his. Worse, that bottle is nearly empty and you don't seem wasted yet, so it's either coming in a few minutes, or you're really good at hiding your substance abuse issues." Becky wanted to be making fun of her, but Karen just looked over, her eyes not focusing exactly right. Her words were just a tiny bit slurred, but no worse than a tired person might experience.

"You're a bit early. I was left at loose ends, since the Senator didn't show. No one asked for me to help with our new friends. I could have just shown up, but I don't know that they'll want hand holding right now." She smiled, which looked a little loopy. "So... I follow the family tradition. Have you come to give me shit about it or talk?"

There were reams of information in those few lines. For one thing, Karen didn't even bother denying her drinking problem. That was a sign that she'd been at it long enough not to care if people knew. Then, she was a prisoner. Her cage was gilded to the hilt, lovely... and what someone else had chosen for her. She worked to a schedule chosen for her by the whims of others and couldn't really manage a relationship. The best one that she'd had in years was with Brian, and she hadn't even been able to do that right.

Probably because she was a fucking drunk. If she'd been out in the wild, like a regular person, her life would have fallen apart by then, no doubt. They'd both seen it happen to others after all. Their father was dry now, but it had taken a long time for that to happen. They'd lucked out there, in that he wasn't abusive at all. He even managed to pay the bills on time and see that his kids had a decent life.

Until they'd both turned up Infected. Then he'd bailed right into a bottle. At least their mother had joined him in it. Becky wouldn't want them to feel lonely. Both were doing better now, at least that's what Becky had gotten from what Karen had told Brian.

"Moron. I'm not here to bug you at all. I just came to mention that Brian has to go and visit with Mary, so I won't be around later. I can only get a few miles from him."

There was more glugging as the bottle got emptied out over the remaining ice in the glass. The amber colored liquid was scotch, Becky thought. She'd avoided drinking, since it had made sense as a kid, and then later, after she popped, was an even better plan. Angsty, suicidal and drunk would have been about a ten minute survival plan. Worse, she might have killed someone else first. It had been close far too many times.

Her sister sipped this time, savoring the flavor. It wasn't a good thing at all. No one should ever be so far gone they actually liked the way booze tasted. Seeing her looking, Karen raised her glass a bit.

"You're lucky." She drank for a while, before explaining. "Brian is great. I never even got to have sex with him. Or hold him much. That was all your fault. I couldn't be with him, because of you." She started to get weepy then. It was another family tradition.

Then she rallied a bit and snorted, choking on it halfway through.

"Crud. Heh. You know, Becky... I hate you a little bit. You ruined my life. Even after you died you came back, and made it harder for me. I killed you, and now you're haunting me. I deserve it. I know. I know." There was another sip, and then she set the glass down. The ice tinkled a little when she did it.

"Sorry? I didn't get a lot of choice in any of it. It was never about you. Except for the part where I kept Brian from getting any action with you. It's bad enough that I feel everything he does with Mary. At least that one is just kinky, not totally sick. On the good side, I can assure you that having sex as a man is awesome. He always gets off. Every time."

"Bitch much?" Karen didn't normally use that kind of language, but Becky understood.

She was kind of rubbing things in, from a certain perspective. It hadn't been her intent.

"Again, mea culpa. I have to get out of here soon. I don't suppose we could reschedule? We can have a good old fashion cry fest and you can eat ice cream out of the carton while I tell you all about how Prime broke my heart again. At least he finally apologized for that. I didn't think he'd be able to."

"He did?" She seemed unbelieving. It made sense, given who they were talking about. "What did you tell him? He must be hurting..." She started to get up, only to be waved back down. She was in a blue blouse and white slacks, with pale stockings on underneath, her pumps, which were dark blue, kicked off. That was probably another sign that she'd been drinking pretty hard for a while. Those shoes did not go with her outfit.

"He's fine. I told him the truth. That it played a part in what happened, but that his rejecting me was a situational thing. I would have ended up killing myself over something eventually. Probably the cheese sauce on my nachos not being warm enough, which proved everyone hated me. I used to think that. Seriously. I was a tiny bit messed up." She held up two fingers, very close together. "Like, that much."

Karen didn't respond to her kidding around at all. Picking up her glass again, she swirled it for a bit, then took another drink.

"I hadn't really considered that he'd feel anything like guilt. Do you think he blamed himself?"

"I don't know. A little? It was nearly the first thing he said to me, when we were alone. Then he said he was trying not to sleep with everyone that came around. Something about it hurting his wife? That wasn't fun to hear, since now I have to feel bad about that part myself. Well!" She got up, then moved over to hug her sister, the scent of booze so strong on her that it was nearly a cloud. A flammable one.

How Becky had missed the signs before she didn't know. Except that she did. Karen would be hiding her drinking from Brian, and the only way that she would have noticed it before would have been if he had. He was a sweet enough person, in his own psycho-killer way, but he could deny what was going on around him with the best of them. Most people didn't notice it, but she did, living inside his head as much as she did, day to day.

The data from inside her let her know that he was coming soon. That left her with a hard decision. Did she rat out her sister, like she probably should, or let her keep drinking herself into liver failure? The answer was clear, but two fold. She needed to get her help, but it wasn't going to come from Brian. He had his own issues to deal with, and an ex-girlfriend taking up his time wasn't going to help that at all.

"So, I'm off. Tomorrow? Around early, or so? I don't sleep, but Chris does, so my guess is that I'm going all Brian side for a while, later." It was the loneliest time. At least people were always watching television somewhere. She didn't get to pick the shows. Ghosts didn't, as a rule.

Karen waved a little, but didn't see her to the door.

"Becky?"

"Yep?" She tried not to seem like a puppy about to be whipped. It hadn't felt very nice hearing that her sister hated her. Even if it was totally fair, and like she'd said, just a little.

"I love you. I'm glad you came to talk to me." She looked down, sadness pouring off of her.

"I love you too, sis. I'll be back, like I said."

Then she walked through the wall, to intercept Brian, who knew exactly where she was. It wasn't even his power or their connection. She'd told him the plan and he was smart. She forced a smile and pointed down the hallway, before he walked too far into it. It would be easier for him to turn around there than to get all the way to Karen's room first. It was hard to tell that he was in pain, from the outside. He flowed as he walked, his body seeming healthy and fit.

That was for the rubes. The people watching them. When he came back later, still moving the same way, no one would think much of it. If he'd limped out and came back whole and healthy later, it would eventually alert someone. The less that kind of thing hit the system, the safer Elizabeth was.

Becky was still in her imaginary battle outfit, so focused for a bit, letting it change. It was her version of a catholic schoolgirls outfit. Knee high socks, black buckled shoes, a white top, tied just above her pierced belly button and a skirt short enough that nuns would have beaten her for it. She went through the motions of putting her hair into a single ponytail, tying it up as they walked. Brian didn't speak to her, or look her way, until they were at the front door.

Then he just tilted his head.

"You look better. Without all the black makeup. Bridget is driving us. Did you know that she has a driver's license?" There was a grin, because of course they all knew. Bridget had showed everyone in the entire building the month before, when she'd gotten it.

She was old enough, but Marcia had decided that everyone that could manage it had to have one. The others all learned, if it was physically possible, even if they weren't allowed to do it legally. Lobo was considered too deformed, by law, having claws like he did, but could manage it well enough. Felicia wasn't able to at all. The configuration was just wrong. Lauren was the outlier there. She knew how to do it, but no vehicle would let her. She was just too big.

They didn't have to wait too long for the sedan to pull around. Charlot wasn't there, but Prime was in the passenger's seat already, and didn't budge when the car slowed.

She slid into place after Brian did. It was tricky, holding her place in the vehicle. Not so much when it moved, but initially, as she transitioned from the ground to it, as her environment. It was all mental, but for some strange reason that part was hard.

Bridget looked around and went serious then.

"This car doesn't move until everyone is buckled in. No whining about it."

She sounded like Marcia, just then. It was cuter when Bridgie did it.

It took more imagining, but Becky made it look right, and was even held in place by the thought form. A black belt crossed her lap and shoulder, matching Brian's on the other side.

Then Bridget, the girl with no self-control, proceeded to drive into town like an eighty year old woman. She followed the speed limit the whole time, and signaled every turn perfectly. All the while searching the sides of the road in the dark, looking for kids to dash out in front of her. That, or a real attack. Since it was a point, everyone else did it too. It made for a tense ride and no one spent a lot of time chatting about anything.

When they pulled in front of the still open, but empty looking road side coffee and donut place, Bridget sighed a little.

"Ha! All of you are in one piece and everything. I bet none of you saw that one coming, did you? Huh? Huh?" The girl hopped out faster than most could have managed, and jittered in place. It was a combination of nerves and triumph.

A wonderful thing. If a bit out of place. She already had her license. Becky shook her head, acting sad for a moment.

"Sure, Rat-girl, rub it in. You have hands that can touch things and everything. Good on you." Then not bothering to hide it, she giggled. "Actually we all knew you could do it already. You are, after all, awesome. Don't let that go to your head."

Prime smiled but just walked away. Either he was hiding his real thoughts on the issue, or was simply distracted for some reason. Brian seemed pleased, which seemed to count, as far as Bridget went.

"That was really good. You stayed focused for twenty minutes. Longer than that, if we include getting the car from the motor pool. That's not some little thing." Walking a bit more stiffly now, he headed for the door himself. It hurt, more than he'd ever let on.

It wasn't as bad for her, but sharing his brain like she did, she was aware of it. Her entire being tried to ache in sympathy. It didn't work, since she didn't have a body, but her phantom self made up for it pretty well.

Scott just walked in, since it was a public space. The store had a new sign and fresh paint. It was kept in good repair all the time. The theme was brown and black, with the name on the large sign saying Mary in blue. That was her favorite color. The inside smelled like cinnamon, and behind the counter stood a familiar looking boy that was just now turning fourteen. He had brown hair, but was taller than he'd used to be.

Scott smiled at him, but Becky was there in time to speak first, waving and catching his attention pretty hard. She nearly preened under it. Young man, meet your hormones. It was a bit mean of her, but she'd actually dressed like she had exactly for that reason. Ed wasn't special, in particular, but then, neither was she. Not in looks. All day long people had sort of ignored her as anything except the ghost of their returned friend. Edmund didn't know her from Eve.

That meant that his slightly glazed look and open mouth was real enough. It was still cheating, since he was young, and from a place where dressing like she was probably only happened in the bedroom, but it wasn't like they didn't have television there at the store. He'd seen women in less, she didn't doubt.

Still, the alien boy was also from a very misogynistic, or at least paternalistic, culture, so he ripped his eyes away and looked at first Brian, and then Prime, bowing a little. Then, only after that, did he glance at Bridget, locking eyes with her well enough. She'd changed into jeans and a t-shirt, which was close to what the people in the store were all wearing.

Mary was in a skirt, but Ed's older sister was dressed like that, and so was Elizabeth, who practically tore from the back, and grabbed Brian by the sides of his throat. Her bare hands stuck fast, as her healing ability kicked in. It wasn't as impressive this time, since Brian only had massive injuries, instead of being near dead twenty times over. The first few times they'd done this it was pretty clear that everyone figured the healer for dead.

Each time Brian had broken her hold, after she started screaming. It was said that was impossible to do. It took such an act of will that even Hobbs admitted that he would have likely failed at the task, if it had been him. Brian couldn't let anyone else die for him, given his mode. That saved Elizabeth. In the end, it had probably saved them all.

Because Brian was alive now, and nearly healthy, thanks to what the woman had managed after that. Now, after a minute, with no screaming at all, she let go. Her rather long face relaxed and she patted him on the shoulder well enough that Ed looked ready to jump Brian and undo all the good work. It was that different culture thing again.

Men didn't touch women, unless they were related or planning to have sex with them. Elizabeth was as close to family as Ed and his sister had in that world, so if someone tried anything with her, as the man of the family it was his duty to protect her.

It was both cute, and potentially disastrous all at the same time.

Edmund spoke to Bridget, clearly considering her family too. As Mary's granddaughter that made sense. Of course it was going to make things pretty awkward when Bridgie offered to sleep with him. So far she seemed to be handling it all pretty well, as far as things like that went.

"Miss Bridget. You brought us a new friend?" He glanced, very quickly, at Becky, not letting his eyes even touch hers. That had him looking at the hem of her skirt, which caused some blushing on his part.

There was a glance then, and Bridget sighed.

"See, I should have dressed like that. The slutty girls always get the guys, don't they? This is Becky. She's my friend. She died a few years ago. Then she came back. She's a ghost now."

From the back, where Deidre was standing, using the donut counter as protection from the world, there was a soft sound. It wasn't exactly a laugh, but it conveyed that general idea.

"Are you the shade that lives in Advocate Yi's mind then? His familiar?"

It was a strange way to look at it, but not totally wrong. They all called Brian that. Advocate Yi. It more or less was their way of naming him as a champion. In the old style of the word. A person that fought to protect people, when they could not hope to win. Or at least she didn't know that it meant anything different than that. It seemed to fit.

"Well, I like to think of him as my familiar, but sure, I suppose we could go with that." Familiar was about the same as little bitch, she thought. It worked out well enough.

Some actual customers came in, so she moved to the back of the room, speaking to the girl there. Bridget came too, which made sense, given that they were nearly the same age. She was the old one there, but not so much older that it was creepy. Other than the part about her being a ghost. That could give a person nightmares, if they didn't know her.

Unlike Mary, who was competent and a bit pushy at times, or Elizabeth who straddled the line between confident and being a fish out of water, Deidre Elcampayn just seemed timid. Enough so that she would have been seen as Infected if not for the whole thing where her world of origin didn't have that. She also had power. In her case it was literally that. Power, as in energy. She could produce vast amounts of it on command. It wasn't a weapon, but people with the right technology or even super abilities would have loved having her around.

Ed was the same. Where they'd come from the whole world ran on Elcampayn energy. It was why their family had been enslaved and driven nearly to extinction, so that only one land would be able to control the entire world. That was why Hobbs had taken the last two, with the help of a Carlie healer and Mary Wyrdcraft, and removed them to a place where it would be very hard to abuse them.

A donut shop, in Montana. So far it had worked pretty well.

Eventually someone would come looking for them, if they hadn't already. Mary was far from the only person in her family that could travel between worlds, and they had people that were probably going to figure things out. The Westers and Timberlands. Braid was only one member of that family, and it was taking most of the IPB just to stand up to her. What could they do against ten of them? Or fifty? Especially if they all just wanted the kids back?

The Westers, according to Mary and Hobbs, were simply several times more intelligent than anyone else. That made them pretty much impossible to beat as well.

They needed both of the Elcampayns, too. Deidre would have to be put out as a brood mare, having children until she couldn't anymore. That was the only way to save that other world now. That, or solar power. They didn't really understand that kind of thing, so it wouldn't work in time. It was why they needed Ed.

By cutting him into little pieces, a bit at a time, they could power their entire world, until Deidra had produced enough babies to use them instead.

It was a horrible thing, and no one that had heard the story was willing to let it happen.

They would be coming for the kids. An entire world needed them. That wasn't going to end well either. Becky just hoped that Brian and she could finish the thing with Braid first.

Otherwise they'd end up losing a war on two fronts, rather than just one.

Chapter eleven

The coffee shop brought back old memories for Scott. It smelled of cinnamon now, and dark roast blend. When he was little, about five, his mother would bring him in about once a week. Each time Mary would complement him. Tell him that he was getting big, and fine looking. It had always been fun.

Most people that popped Infected did it along a fairly random spread of times. There wasn't a perfect age for it, but it generally took place between about fifteen and fifty. That was just due to the modern spread of demographics. He'd heard of the occasional old man or woman suddenly turning, and the occasional baby.

That had been him. Not a year after he was born, he'd popped. At first things had been different for him, if he'd been told correctly. His mind hadn't formed into any particular shape, so he ended up being fixed into what he was now. A slightly gold colored, but very powerful being. Like the cartoon that had been playing in the background. Captain Superior.

Now the government wouldn't allow that kind of thing on the air. There was a reason for it. Mainly that kids had been growing up to be super-hero's for a long time, thanks to programing like that. When those images had gone away, so had any good will that the average person had for the remaining Infected. There weren't nearly enough good Infected role models now.

So Prime had, after a fashion, turned into what his immature brain had thought of as the best way to be for someone like him. Apparently, at any rate.

It was easier to get the idea with Bridget, who'd also bloomed early. Not as much so, but given Charlot's first mode, and his own, Rachel had come to take care of her when she was little. Until she was five or six. After she left, thinking things were fine, the girl had gone over. Her little brain shaping herself into what she was missing. The most powerful woman in the world.

The impulsiveness had always been there. That was part of what happened with the Infected too. Their first modes were normally reflections of what they cared about most, on some level. Their primary personality trait, normally. That, or the one that they hid from the world the hardest.

So a person riddled with secret fears would often be slapped with terror, all the time. A shy individual would amplify that. Karen had always been compassionate and Becky was one of those teens that would have worn black nail polish, and dyed her hair pink, just to rebel. If that hadn't been taken way too far, when she'd turned over, at fourteen.

The ghost probably didn't know that he had that much information about her. She should have guessed, since he'd killed her. His first mode had. It was weak to turn a woman away, at least to his internal little kid idea of power. Captain Superior wasn't exactly a player, but all the women loved him, and it showed even in the brightly colored cartoon. They swooned over how perfect he was. So that formative idea, garbled through the distorted world view of a baby had pushed him into being what he was.

Not that he could recall any of it. Rachel had mentioned it a few times, trying to explain why he was a narcissist, not understanding who he really was. She loved him anyway, so it had all worked out.

Now he needed to see that there were other kinds of strength. It kind of hurt, trying that. Being a family man was, in his heart, the kind of thing that very weak men aspired to. A good father? He'd grown up without one and was fine. It had made him strong. Except that warped and seeming like a bit of a self-serving jerk to most people wasn't really that. It all came from that formative moment. So he had to find a way to make doing what he should into something that only the strongest man in the world could manage.

Otherwise his first mode would leave him stuck, just like he had been for thirty-five years. A child's idea of power. The man with the brightest smile and a confident swagger, rather than the best home life and most protected set of family and friends around.

This familiar place was a good one to start in. If he could manage to seem like his new image here, it might shake something loose inside. His brain might manage to change and allow him to become what he always should have.

Scott. Not Prime at all. Not Captain Superior the two dimensional character that had only run for one season. A real man, that lived up to his duty.

Waving to Mary, he smiled.

"I thought I'd come and visit again! I wanted to thank you for helping me deal with Frank earlier. In the main we aren't supposed to beat up the press, but I know that I'm more than willing to be happy about it this time." It came out sounding genteel enough, if not truly happy. A bit formal, in tone. She brought that out in him. It was the whole mother from a different world thing. How was a person supposed to deal with that?

Edmund, being a generally helpful young man, if weird enough to attract attention in a whole lot of places, turned to look at him. There was a single nod.

"We were told of this. That man, Houser, maligned your name. We will hunt him down in the morning, and see that he cannot do that again. I am most shocked that Lord Moore did not see to his end, where he stood. There are, things of a delicate measure involved?" The boy moved from behind the front counter, his "regular" American clothing looked bizarre. His jeans had ironed creases down the front, and his t-shirt, which was a very dark blue, and plain, had them on the sleeves. No one ironed their T-shirts anymore. Even Scott just hung his up.

They were all very wrinkle free, now that he bothered to notice it. He was in a clean suit, with a pressed shirt himself, but most people would have thought they all looked a bit strange. Too nice for a donut shop. Fake, after a fashion.

Brian was right there, and stepped toward Ed. Just enough to get his attention.

"Hold off on the killing for the time being? The man is an annoyance to Scott, but if we kill the media they'll stop saying anything nice about us at all."

That got the boy to bow.

"I was unaware that any of that lot was saying kindnesses, nor held gentle words for those of your keep. I do not traffic with their lies too often. It is enough that I must hear of the Song Master Bieber at my daily classes. I much prefer the stylings of Mr. Peterson, truth be told. Sir. Nor am I alone in such reckoning."

Brian let his head list to one side, smiling. Then he looked at the side of Mary's head, as she hid her face, pretending to be interested in something that didn't exist off to the side.

"I notice that nowhere in that little speech was any indication that you weren't going after Houser? I'd take it as a personal favor if you'd at least wait a while?"

It was a strange thing, since Scott was nearly certain that Ed, and probably Mary, fully intended to hunt the man down. Kill him, just for saying a few negative things about him. Not that he didn't secretly like the idea. It was simply that the rules of that other world probably wouldn't go over too well, in their new place, if media people started dying off.

Letting a radiant and gleaming smile come to his face, he moved in and patted the boy on the back.

"Brian has the right idea. Still, your offer isn't a bad one. I already killed one person today, so I don't really think Frank vanishing would go unnoticed."

There was silence for a moment, and he really expected Edmund to ask why they'd want the murder to go unnoticed. It was Deidre, the quiet girl, who spoke up, breaking into her own conversation with Bridget and Becky. She seemed subdued, but the girl almost always did.

"Sir? You were forced to take a life this day? Yet you come to visit us and see to the health of Advocate Yi? We are honored." It really didn't sound like that was what the girl wanted to express. She seemed a bit scandalized.

Becky snorted, seeming to pick up on something that he'd missed. That was very possible, since his mode forced him to see things as they impacted his own perception. He couldn't help but feel the strange girl was judging him. That was fine, as long as she thought he seemed powerful while she did it.

"Yeah, it was Crandall. He attacked Prime, and tried to kill him. Twice. I managed to drop him the first time, but it didn't stick. I hate to condone murder, which it flat out was, because it didn't have to be done. I hate to, but can't, in this case. The guy was going to kill people. He pretty openly spied on us too. If he wasn't there to actually try and kill a few of us, I'll eat-" She glanced around and then shrugged, her face taking on a cute expression. "Well, I won't eat anything, but you all get the idea? If Prime hadn't managed it today, it would have been Proxy doing it next week. Probably to protect Soar, or some cook."

There was more silence, but the girl in the back simply bowed a bit, bending her knees, still behind the back counter, her hands going out to the side, palms up. She didn't vanish behind the counter, meaning she was holding her weight up a bit, so her head would show.

"Forgive me. I meant to wrong you not, sir. Nor imply that the task of the day was less than-"

He moved over and for some reason, bowed. It was a simple thing. Just a bend at the middle.

"Don't let it worry you. By the rules here, you're right. All death is to be avoided and I'm in the wrong. Not that I didn't mean to do it." He wasn't going to explain at all, which was fine, since there were regular people in the place. A few of them looking back at the donut counter to see what was going on.

He felt weak, suddenly, admitting that. It was true, and killing people was wrong. Revenge was strong however. Admitting that he even could be incorrect had always been hard for him. It meant he felt a strong urge to pose or preen, and distract everyone from what he'd just said.

His little girl, his darling daughter, growled.

"I was going to kill Crandall myself. He's not the only one. They all think that I've forgotten, but I haven't. It's why I've been learning with Hobbs. I can't take them all. Not alone. Not if I go at them wild, and like I used to be. I have to be concise and exacting. Take them when no one realizes it. One by one."

The girl at the back shrunk away. It was nearly as if she didn't realize that Bridget didn't think of her as part of the group she wanted to free the world of. The tiny redhead saw it happening and managed to smile, her face a bit more round now. It wasn't fat at all, just her bone structure getting a little heavier with age. Her cheekbones were filling out in a way that an un-Infected girl's probably never would. In another few years she'd probably look very different, if it kept up. Hopefully that part wouldn't keep going on too long. Otherwise she'd end up swinging the other way and seem like a tiny man. Medical didn't think that was going to happen. In fact Doctor Burrows figured that Bridget would stop just shy of what would make her very good looking, that way.

It would leave her a little plain, unless she had makeup on. It probably would have surprised everyone, but Scott didn't care about that at all. Being good looking would make her too recognizable. That was a bad thing, given the world they were in at the moment. If she could ever manage to blend in, that was better. He couldn't. Not with his slightly metallic gold skin and lavender eyes. If his baby could do better than that, he had to like it.

Becky slapped her on the back, "ease down a bit there, Rat-Rat. People screwed up, and I get that you're angry with them, but killing them all isn't the answer."

That got the ghost glared at, but only for a moment. Then Bridgie faked a small, very cold, smile.

"I know. I can probably only take out a few of them before I have to run. I have a list. Some of them just went along with everyone else. Others pushed for it. They tried to kill my father and called me a liar. That isn't something I'm going to just let go."

There was a sound as the front door opened and closed, the man that had come in for some coffee, his heavy frame bustling a bit, managing to scamper away from the awkward conversation. Everyone in the room went still for a bit, but Mary spoke, her words suddenly going very casual.

"I'll help you, when the time comes." She sounded almost American when she said it, her accent and words relaxed.

It was a sliding scale thing, that showed she thought of Bridget as truly being her family. She was always a bit more formal with Scott. He could understand that one. Her family, the Wyrdcraft relatives, didn't raise their own children. They were too likely to move off in time or space suddenly, and end up leaving the child anyway. So they had special schools for them.

The world that Mary had come to didn't have that, so she'd gotten a woman that couldn't have her own children to take care of him. Rachel. The thing there was that to Scott it was an abandonment. He'd never spoken of it, or made a big deal about the idea. That would seem weak, and it wasn't his way. The thought was there, deep inside, and Mary it seemed understood that it might be.

So she went politely with him.

Like Edmund did with Proxy. The boy wasn't a fool after all. The first time they'd met, the kid had tried to beat Brian up, because Mary had hugged and kissed him. Brian, who was so used to simply killing other people when he fought that it had to be nearly impossible not to now, had just dodged and let the younger man punch himself out. Never being touched. Ed wasn't in Proxy's league as a fighter, but he'd had training, and knew what that meant. That he could have died almost instantly, if Brian had wanted it.

So he was very polite to him now. Probably trying to get the Chinese American man to let his guard down, so that if they ever had to fight again, he wouldn't be ready for it. Scott could have told him that it wouldn't be happening. Brian had tried to shoot Lancaster earlier. The big Agent, or ex-Agent now, was pretty close to being one of his best friends. He'd still nearly killed him, just reacting to the situation. Edmund was at best a familiar nuisance, by comparison.

The ghost girl walked over to him, just standing for a bit, while no one spoke at all. Then she shook her head, slowly.

"We need to be getting back. Something big is about to happen again. Not Tesseract, I don't think. The information is hazy. A fight. Given everything and the location, I have to guess it's Spetnaz Ultima finding out that Russia tends to simply execute their Infected. We should be there for the festivities. Brian should at least."

Scott nodded, allowing himself to come across as a little smug. He was trying for fatherly pride, but that didn't show, until he spoke.

"Bridget? You're driving us. If Dharma says we need to leave, we probably should. I-" He was going to suggest they all get together for a meal soon, when Mary went a bit wide eyed, and looked over at Brian.

"You're about to go there directly? I can take you. It will be faster and not leave you stranded here on the return." She jumped forward, moving the several steps to her boyfriend, and took him by the arm. The world rippled around them, and they left without even so much as a flash of light or a pop. They were simply gone.

Becky went at the same time, not being able to get too far from her friend.

That left him standing there alone with Bridget, Elizabeth, Ed and Deirdre. She was still bowing, looking at the floor. Her hands weren't out, so it might have simply been her being shy.

"We need to go. I'd love to have you all over for dinner soon? Or we can go out for it?" He was moving toward the door, when the girl spoke up, from the back.

"I could cook? Perhaps Songmaster Peterson could attend?" This was followed by a shocked squeak, from the young lady herself.

Bridget laughed. It was a joyful thing, considering they were probably moving back to the base for a fight. If they got there in time.

"I'll ask him. He's my old partner. Just remember, he has more than one girlfriend already, before you go all groupie on him."

Ed looked scandalized, getting the meaning, but the girl simply nodded, her face collected suddenly.

"He is an important man. Of course he has many women. I could offer myself to him, in exchange for his time?"

That got a strained laugh from Elizabeth and a half shouted protest from Ed.

"You will not!"

Scott used the distraction as a reason to leave, since he didn't want to be in the middle of their coming family discussion. His daughter went stony and serious the instant she was behind the wheel, with him in the passenger's seat.

"I'm going to speed. I'll drive carefully, but I need a spotter. We don't know what's coming at all. I should be able to have us back in ten minutes. So, you know the rule, buckle up."

He did it. It was a good habit to have, even if he wouldn't die in an ordinary car accident. The car was under control as it pulled onto the road and accelerated smoothly. There was no jerkiness to it at all. After a minute, as the dark night flew by the window, the speedometer was reading one-twenty. Then it held there. Perfectly. Scott watched, looking for all the normal things. Animals in the road, people that might not notice them coming. Large explosions of blue light that indicated they were coming under attack.

The light wasn't visible until they got very close to the base, and it was multi-colored. There was blue in the mix, which was pretty, as well as gold and bursts of red occasionally. The blue was Lady Glory, Scott thought. It had the right pattern to it. The beams held for a long time, and showed a group of people being hit. Most of them stopped fighting at least.

Bridget stopped the car, right outside the front gate. The guards were a bit distracted, looking the other way like they were.

"We can hop the fence from here and walk over. I bet it was Katarine that started this. It's the hyper-reflexes. I don't think she can help it. She gets anxious or startled and just starts fighting. Luckily she isn't that strong. She ruined the uniform I was wearing earlier." She sounded a bit bored by the idea, rather than tense.

It was, Scott realized, her holding total control over herself. He decided to do the same, and walked over. It took a bit, but no one was actually managing to kill anyone yet. When he got to the small group of familiar people that were watching the events, he moved in alongside Marcia. She wasn't fighting, which meant the situation wasn't all that bad yet. As a good sign, Olga the giantess was right next to her, looking at the fighting, annoyed.

She glanced over.

"Gold man." Pointing she grimaced. "Idiots."

That got Marcia to grin. She was ready to fight, it was clear, her weight balanced between her slightly wide spread feet. After a few seconds she wrinkled her nose.

"That's not wrong. I blame the Russians. They were being too cagey about what they wanted, which made about half the people suspicious. On the good side they're mainly fighting with each other. Brian took someone's place. A little green guy? I didn't get the name. It would be good if I understood what they were shouting at each other. At least Olga here is being reasonable. I'm thinking of offering her a command position here. Second in command of Team Two? Charles is off in the field, and someone needs to be in charge down there."

Bridget surprised him, looking up at the giant. There was a long look, and the huge woman glanced down, then stared herself, as she realized who was there.

"She needs to learn better English first. I can set up a learning program on the computer for it. It's not a horrible idea, if some of her peeps are going to stay."

Olga didn't move, her heavy features relaxing being the only sign she understood anything at all about what was said.

"Heh. Da. I English. Spacibo tavarich."

It took a few minutes for Brian to subdue the people in their gray outfits, since he wasn't just killing them. Not all of them fought against him, and a few even chuckled or laughed as they jumped back, rather than engage with him.

Bridget moved in and grabbed Katarine, slapping her knife away, and moving her over to the edge of the crowd. She'd been hit at least a dozen times and kept surging back toward the center of the dying conflict. In the end it was Lady Glory that managed it all. She hit everyone, including the ones standing off to the side, until everyone was milling happily.

Becky appeared about then, and touched his arm lightly.

"Can I get your help with something?" She sounded sad. Given that the fight was fairly amusing, and no one seemed too badly hurt, it probably wouldn't be that.

"What can I do for you?"

She pulled him off to the side, and then all the way over to the gate. The keys were still in the car, so he climbed in, pretending the idea was just to return it. The gate opened, the metal bar, which was red and white now, in a striped pattern, raising silently. One of the guards had actually noticed them.

"It's like this, Prime. I need Charlot and Director Moore to take a walk with me in the morning. I don't want Brian to know. Hence me using this little distraction to talk to you. Can you set that up? About nine, or so?" She looked out the window, not making eye contact as he drove forward, pulling off to the left, to travel around the main building. The motor pool was off that way.

Scott had to assume they were being listened to, or that he was. She wouldn't be captured on video or audio, he didn't think. Taking a second to think, he just let his head nod. They all knew that you didn't talk about anything important inside the fence line of the base. It was just possible that the girl next to him had information that they'd need. So he nodded, and didn't ask why.

"So, Becky. How was your first day back among the living? Was it all that you hoped?" There was no teasing to it, but it still sounded a bit self-centered. Too powerful and smooth. He tended to boom a little when he spoke, and it changed the meaning of what was said, all too often.

"It wasn't too bad. I figured on more crying and less pats on the back, but people adapted pretty well. Karen, well that part is a mess. Plus you. It really never occurred to me that freaking Prime was going to be crying himself to sleep at night over me having offed myself." She let her voice have a lilt to it and looked over at the larger man's face.

Scott grimaced, "I can't cry. I've never been able to. My first mode won't allow it. I can sit in the dark and brood like a champ, if that helps? I did. Over what happened. For years. I know it isn't the same thing, but I thought about you. I can't fix what happened, but I still feel guilty over it." He hit the steering wheel, if lightly. Damaging the car would make Bridget look bad, since she'd signed it out. His daughter had been so careful the whole time. Even when she broke the law on the way back.

He pulled up to the entry bay of the hanger, to find a black clad Agent off to the right, who checked the board in his hand. Then he scanned the car with a small black box that had a screen on it and whistled.

"A bit fast on the return trip. That's going to have to be a black mark." There was no meanness to it, but Scott shook his head a little.

"It was a legitimate emergency. That fight we had out front? We didn't know what we were coming back to, so she used her best discretion, and hurried. Safely. Notice how smoothly she did it all? You can see that on the tracker, can't you?" He was about to go on, arguing for his little girl, when the Agent went over to his desk, which was behind glass, and tapped at a keyboard for a while. Scott got out, which was protocol. Becky moved with him, not even pretending to open a door. It was weird, but not that much different than the kinds of things they all saw each day. The Agent didn't do more than smile at her.

When the man, who was named Rick Helms, Scott knew, he winked.

"I made a note. It really does seem to be legitimate. If it's a problem for her, let me know and I'll talk to Lancaster about it."

Scott didn't correct the man. He'd understand the change there in a few days. It was stupid to move Darryl out of his position just because he could substitute for a camp fire now. It was true that the man had been a pain in the behind earlier, wanting to lock him up like he had. That was situational. The kind of thing that they all went through, given their high stress positions. Even the un-Infected people broke down every now and then.

The girl next to him didn't touch him, even as they walked back toward the main area.

"I think Chris is about to turn in. She sent a message, so I'll be out of touch for a bit. So, if you'll get those people around in the morning for that walk? Nine? If possible. It's not like I have a full schedule."

"I'll see you in the morning. I should get in now and actually spend some time with my wife. It's hard to understand how we can live in the same place, and still not even see each other some days."

It seemed like the girl was about to say something, but she just vanished. Given everything, from what he'd heard, she'd still be right there, walking like she had been.

Between the buildings, the girl out of sight, and possibly not there at all, Scott took a deep breath. It was dark in the area he was in, but the glass and metal building ahead of him shone. A bit green at night, from the kind of glass used.

"I can't see you now. I don't know if you can tell. I just wanted you to know, Becky, that if I could have done things differently, back before you died-" He actually choked a bit on a sob. There were no tears, so it seemed like a gasp, not him crying. "I would have. I never should have done anything with you at all. I know that now. It was so cruel of me. Stupid too. I hurt people, and did it just to look good, in the eyes of still others. I'm trying to do better, but I don't know if I can."

He walked on then, realizing that he'd just turned an apology to a ghost into a complaint about how hard things were for him.

"I'm sorry. I always have been." Then, without speaking again, he went home. Inside the base.

Chapter twelve

The nights were the worst thing for Becky. Brian tried to sleep as much as he could, and went to bed like an old person. That was, he'd climb in as early as he could normally, and get up before a decent person should even consider it. That he was going to bed a lot later than normal wasn't going to help, since his eyes just closed as soon as he tucked himself in. He did it with his all black nano-armor on. That stuff didn't come off at all now, except when he was in the shower, or about to have sex. It was starting to show some wear too. Soon he'd need more. Technically he only had this setup because Marcia Turner had arranged for it.

It didn't hurt that one of the head scientists on the prototype project had been his old college roommate. Otherwise he might not have had it at all. It was supposed to last for years, but that projection had been for normal wear, not constant use. Brian didn't get a choice in that. Not if he wanted to keep breathing. Since Becky sort of needed that to happen, she sort of had to figure out how to get a replacement soon.

The lights went out in Brian's room on the ninth floor, which meant he wasn't even going to be interesting. Not that he ever was, when alone. He didn't even touch himself. It was creepy. If he hadn't been so tired she would have offered to do it for him. Not that it would help, since Chris was out of the picture for the time being too. It would be interesting, to finally do something with him. It wasn't like she'd never considered the idea before. He was closer to her than any guy had ever been. Than anyone had.

He had Mary now, and didn't need that kind of thing from her. It was both good and annoying. The woman hadn't stuck around long, just dropping Brian off and moving away from the danger, like a sensible person. She was powerful, but not a fighter. Besides, she and Ed were probably going to go and kill Frank Houser that night.

Becky was willing to bet that it happened. If not then, exactly, then within the next months. It was clear to her that Edmund and the other aliens thought of Scott and Bridget as one of them. Their family. Insult one of them and the others were bound to have an issue with it. Deidre had been trying to say that, in her own way, when it came to Crandall. She was freaked, it was clear. To Becky, if not Prime. The man had bristled a bit, getting the girl to think she was about to be beaten, most likely.

Dharma thought she understood what had really been happening there finally. Scott wasn't insisting that he was the best, but had to be strong seeming. Deidre saw that as him getting ready to fight, and since there was no one else around at the moment to do battle with, she had to think she was about to be the one throwing down. Against mother freaking Prime. So she'd bowed and scraped.

It said a lot about the place that Hobbs and Mary came from, didn't it? Those with power ruled there, it was clear. Not like her world, where those with power were treated as second class citizens, as often as not.

She made her normal nightly rounds then. There wasn't all that much to do at the best of times once people turned in, except watch television on the fifth floor. She tried not to invade anyone's privacy, so that left her restlessly going down the hallways, hoping to see something interesting enough to keep her occupied for a while. It wasn't like she could read a book to pass the time. The darned pages wouldn't turn for her. If she ever got real ghost powers, that was something she planned to do. Catch up on her reading. That and watch whatever shows she wanted on late night television.

So she walked the night away. At least if her old pals on the fifth floor weren't watching anything good. Tonight there was no one in there at all. The whole place was dark. The same was true for almost the whole base. There were fewer people now, after so many had been sent off a few months back. It wasn't until she got to the first floor that there was anything going on at all. That was at the restaurant. Olga, the easily embarrassed large woman, seemed to be trying to score something to eat. She'd be starving, no doubt, but she hovered in the door. It wasn't until a sleepy looking Bridget came and looked at her tiredly that anyone even noticed the lady.

"Hey, come on." She marched into the place, as if she owned it. Like it was her family's kitchen, instead of a fine eating establishment. To her that was just the case. Even as a little girl, she'd always done that, and no one ever tried to stop her. She had to eat too much just to stay alive, to stint her.

Olga seemed ready to run away, even as her stomach growled in protest. She followed along, which had the night host, a British guy with a tiny mustache, smiling at them.

"A table for two?" He didn't so much as look sideways at the rather homely giant. Or the fact that Bridget was in her PJ's. Team One was supposed to wear nice clothing and makeup all the time in public, but her face was bare at the moment.

Impulse moved in and touched the man's arm. It was an intimate and unneeded gesture, but stopped there. Not that long before she would have gone for his crotch, or tried to kiss him, if she were interested. Now she managed to hold back and turn it into an actual flirtation. Like what an adult woman might have done. If she were being pretty forward.

"That would be great. If you see Olga or any of the others near the door, could you make sure they get food? I don't know if anyone set that up for them, but they have some heavy eaters in Spetnaz Ultima. We should have a buffet ready in the morning, or something. So that they don't have to starve while they wait for the main meal to come." She shook her head. "Not that I'm in charge of stuff like that. This isn't even my dining room now, I don't think. I was sort of transferred to Team Three, but I'm going to have to be in here at night. That, or the fifth floor."

The dapper looking man, who was wearing a black suit with a bow tie and a white shirt had stood up, and started to lead them all in. Or at least the others. Not her. She was just hanging around. It was perverse, but she kind of liked to see other people eat. It was better when Chris had let her experience what they were, but this was good too.

The guy stopped and grabbed a pad, making a note.

"I'll see to that. Starting at six?"

Olga stared between the two people, her face a bit stupid looking. Her mind seemed sharp enough, because after a few seconds she answered.

"Da. Yes. Please."

They were led toward the back, the nice place empty except for them. The chairs were heavy enough to hold Olga, though she still settled gingerly, as if not certain that the wood would hold. They were steel inside, and just looked like they were handmade. It was a neat trick, and in this case made sense. The lady was huge.

The night host brought out two large loaves of bread along with whipped butter and some honey, before smiling at Bridget.

"What would you like to start with?"

That seemed to be a lot more food than the girl used to eat. Even after she doubled everything for Olga, she seemed to be considering getting more. She chattered at the other woman, who didn't seem to be picking up most of it. At first. After a while she added more, warming up to the little girl.

"You think white lady make be boss?" It was broken and heavily accented, thick and guttural in places, but Bridget understood.

She was a lot smarter than most people thought. They saw her making bad choices, French kissing a wall socket, or sleeping with Clark Clarkson, and just wrote her off as an airhead. That wasn't correct. Now that she was getting her first mode around, that was becoming a lot clearer to more and more people. Becky had always gotten that the girl was bright, but without focus things like that, it was hard to tell how much so. Now it seemed like she was gifted. It had just been hidden her whole life.

"Quartz? Yeah. She's the Deputy Director. The second in command of the whole IPB. She won't trust you, since she can't. I've known her my entire life and she doesn't trust me yet, either. But she also won't tease you with things like this. If she suggested it, she meant it, for real. You should consider it. Are you good at planning? Tactics, and all that kind of thing? It comes up for Team Two."

They ate and talked for about an hour, before Bridget started to yawn. "Sorry, back to bed for me. We can have breakfast in the morning? I can get with my new partner and Marcia for that too."

How much of all that was understood, Becky couldn't tell, but the giant woman went straight back to her assigned room, smiling a bit. She sounded like she actually knew how to do the job. Also like her old team didn't let the uglies lead anything much at all. It seemed like something that they'd do, but Becky thought about it and realized that, if Olga was put in as second in command of Team Two, she'd be the only person in a leadership position on the base that couldn't pass for normal.

After that she just wandered for hours. Mark was making something in the kitchen used by his show. It was a wonderfully huge sculpture made of colored hard candy. It had spires and stood about seven feet tall, taking up most of the table it sat on. Smiling a bit, after it was done, he took a few pictures of it, and shattered the thing, sweeping it all into the trash.

There was no muttering about it, and it hadn't been a failure at all. The flowers that had been along the base had been so complex and wonderful that Becky felt a little sad at the move. She got the idea. He didn't need rooms filled with temporary art. After that he worked on doing much the same thing with cake decorations. There was no cake, just a variety of frostings and different tools for working with the stuff. When it was done, he destroyed it all. Then he cleaned up and made all the evidence that anything had happened at all disappear into the early hours of the morning.

The man slept, but it always happened in his stasis time. To anyone watching it would look like he laid down to rest and got up almost instantly. Not that she watched him sleep. She didn't even go into people's rooms most of the time. They couldn't invite her, so it was off limits.

She checked outside, which she only did part of the time. It was cool out, she guessed. Not freezing, if she could tell that sort of thing from the lack of frost on the ground just as dawn broke. Physically she didn't experience things like that. Not without help. So it surprised her a bit when she went back in, only to have the woman that ran the front desk look at her and smile.

"Hello! May I help you? We normally don't have guests this early, are you here for an appointment?" She glanced at the clothing, which was still a slightly risqué school girl looking thing. It was hardly business casual. She'd need to keep that in mind for later.

"Nope. I live here. Or, I guess it's closer to say that I haunt here? I'm Becky, and I'll be your ghost for the day." She got a giggle, even though it must have seemed like she was just being random to the lady.

"Well, I should have a good story to tell later then!" The woman wasn't a lot older than she was. Probably about what she'd have really been, if she hadn't taken time off from that pesky aging like she had. Better looking than she was too.

Oh, she could have fixed that now, making herself seem like a ten all the time. She just couldn't be bothered. People would either accept her as she was, or they could bite her where she sat.

"It's not a joke. I mean, clearly I am the world's most awesome ghost, but it's the truth. I just don't want you to be shocked later, when you find that out. You heard about the guests we have?"

That got the lady to nod.

"Yes. I just wish I spoke Russian. Do you know what's going on with that?"

"Not really. I do know that there is a buffet going up in the restaurant on one for them starting at six. Which is just about ... half an hour ago. I should check on that. So, anyway... Boo."

The woman got it, her dark blue outfit and funny girl tie looking professional, even that early. She didn't try to stop Becky when she went down to the restaurant either. It would have been hard to manage, but there were no alarms triggered. She'd simply gone there, which had to look a little strange.

It surprised her that Chris was awake, and it was both cool, and a bit scary, that one of the first things she'd done was make sure that Becky could be seen. There was a distinct feeling that the woman hadn't even finished brushing her teeth yet. It felt like love.

Someone in the whole world got up and considered what she might need, first thing. Even before taking care of themselves. It was humbling, really. Who did that kind of thing? Even Brian didn't. Not with her. Mary, or Karen, but not the ghost in his head. Christian Pours, spoiled and slutty heiress icon of the last decade, did.

Becky couldn't decide if she should cry, or smile. Since there was a line at the buffet, and not all of the people were in gray uniforms, she walked over and put that happy expression on. No one wanted to see a grump first thing in the day. Or not more of them. Only one man from the new team was smiling at all. She saw him and waved. He didn't do it back, since he had a nice full plate. He was thin, and moved to sit down rapidly, eating before he waved at her. It wasn't something that said "come and talk" so she just looked around, until she saw Olga.

The huge woman was hanging back, waiting for the hungrier people to go first. It could have been her being polite, having eaten last. Or it might have been good military practice, waiting for her troops to have something first. Not that she was in charge of Spetnaz Ultima. It was pretty clear that she was being tempted to stay. What with the offers of advancement, and the suggestion that if the Russian's weren't happy with the people that came, they'd be executed.

"Hey! I was with you and Bridget last night, but you couldn't see me. I only get to be visible part of the time." She was about to explain the whole thing again, when the woman smiled, showing large, rather blocky, teeth.

"You test? See if I good?"

That one could have been meant in a hundred ways, and which one it was just didn't come to the surface at all. It was the longest set of words the other lady had spoken to her however. She wondered how old she was. She looked unlined and in her mid twenties, but she could have been a lot older than that, if she was a rapid healer. Most huge eaters were, so appearance didn't mean that much.

"I get bored, at night. So I tend to sit with people if they're in public. Team Two has a television room, but no one was watching anything last night. So, how are you leaning? On the staying thing?"

Olga didn't answer directly, since Dmitri walked up about then, also hanging back. He didn't look ready to blast her with his golden eyes, so she didn't think he was too pissed about the question. Seeing him walk over, Svetlana did too. They both just stood, waiting for something to happen. Other than eating, nothing did, until Olga spoke to them both, in her own language.

The older woman, who looked like she'd showered, but didn't have a comb for her hair, or a brush, looked sour.

"Nyet. We don't have a group decision yet. Many want to go home, some want to stay here, thinking it our best chance at survival. We don't know if we can split things up that way. What do you think?" It was so clearly a test that she nearly begged off. Ghosts didn't get to speak for the IPB. She didn't know that was the whole truth, but no one had said otherwise.

On the other hand, what could they do to her if they didn't like what she said? Call her names? She was already dead. They couldn't even really lock her up. Oh, someone might catch on that they could get Christian not to make her visible, but they probably wouldn't.

"Well, first, remember that I'm an American. I wouldn't want to go to Russia, no matter what they offered. That could just be me being biased, since, like I said, American. Once we put that out of the way, my guess is that neither option is perfect. We pay more, and things are probably nicer here. If you have anyone that's gay, they'll want to hang here, since the Russians have a bug up their asses on that one suddenly. Homosexual, I mean, not just happy. In both places you're still going to be Infected. That isn't a great thing. They have more of a history of killing theirs than the States do, but we're living with that threat over us too. I guess it comes down to who you think has the best buffet? Trust me, most of you won't get this every morning. You'll be on Team Two, which means plenty to eat, but it isn't as nice. Some of you might make Team One. That's for the pretty people who can deal with the public." Or Team Three, but she doubted that. If they had anyone that powerful, they hadn't let it be known yet.

Not that she would have advertised the fact, herself in their places. Someone like that might just be disposed of, in case they ended up being a huge threat later.

Standing there, inside the restaurant, as other people ate, the three with her alternated speaking with each other, and then asking her questions. After a bit, most of the rest of the room had moved so that they could hear what she'd said too. From the speeches Svetlana made, she was going back over everything that Becky had told her. They were all managing to stay calm this time at least.

Even Katarine, who had two big men on either side of her, laughing every time she started to surge to her feet. They kept themselves very carefully in the way. It was a brilliant idea and showed that they worked well as a team.

After a man from one of the closer tables called something out, Svetlana turned back to her.

"If we stay here, would we be allowed to leave later? If we don't like it?" It was a thing that she just didn't know.

"Probably? I'll have to check, but you all seem to have a better position that way than the people already here. I'll check with the Director later, but for now I'm going to say yes." As if she had the power to do that.

Then she was asked what they'd be doing. It was a good question, so she answered it, even as Marcia walked in, dressed in a green dress. She looked businesy, rather than model like, today. People looked at her, but she waved, indicating they should keep talking to Becky.

"Well, most of you will probably be on Team Two. That used to be my team. They're pretty solid. If there's a big threat, anywhere around the country, you'd probably be asked to go in and help stop it. Normally that means fighting Infected that can't help themselves. It's a hard job. Sad. Not that dangerous, since we have most of the controllable and really powerful people here. Or, well, there are more, but most of them don't get out of hand. It's why they're not here. Sometimes we help if there are natural disasters. When D.C. was attacked people from Team Two went and set up food lines, so that everyone had something to eat."

"Who attacked your Capital."

She made a face. "Our own people. The President is on our side, the Infected? Which means some people wanted him dead. It was close, but we were able to protect him."

She changed the topic, knowing that going over that part was just going to confuse things in the moment.

"Some of you might make it onto Team One. They only take good looking people, so I'll warn you on that one. Or mainly. We've just started taking some more exotic looking ones. I was always considered too ugly for that, but they let my sister on it. Lady Glory? The blue glowing one from last night?"

Bridget, who'd moved into the room rather quietly, and was standing in her working uniform next to Marcia called out then.

"They let me on it. Loads of you are probably good looking enough. It's all about taking pictures and talking to people, so a bit boring. If you can do the job it isn't bad. You get the nicest rooms and this place is your dining hall each day. That's to make up for the fact that Team One is kind of useless. You know, to make them feel better about themselves?" She was joking, a bit, but Marcia seemed to agree with her.

"That isn't wrong. We'll have tryouts for that kind of thing. You all make the cut for something here, if you want it. Even if you are commies."

That got a surprising reaction. Becky figured that some would glare and others might seem annoyed, or even laugh. To a person they all simply nodded.

The iron haired Svetlana listened to people after she translated, and finally turned to Marsh, her face a bit like she'd been sucking lemons.

"Are we to be forced to take up your beliefs?"

Becky snorted, which had everyone looking at her. Then she shook her head, very boldly.

"Nope. If you sign on, you have to work for our side, no spying or take backs, but you can believe what you want. Agitate for Communism, or Socialism. Even Democracy if the bug takes you. Not that we really do that around here. That won't get you out of following orders, but it isn't exactly the military here. We're watched, and tracked when we leave, but you would be in Russia too. If you have a religion, or none at all, that's cool here. I think that's pretty much the same over there now, too. We can look that up, just to make sure, if anyone cares? I don't want anyone to think that I'm saying it's all perfect here and horrible over there. It isn't the case. In the main it's probably just a difference of what problems you have to put up with." She grinned. "For one thing, if you stick around here, you'll have to learn English. Otherwise the television shows won't make any sense."

There was muttering for a long time, and a subdued conversation. After a while, two groups formed, with part of the people walking over to the right hand side, looking tense. Five of them stayed by her. Olga, Svetlana, Dmitri, Pieter and almost shockingly, Katarine.

The older lady glared at everyone, and then spoke in her relaxed and gentle voice.

"We over here, wish to stay, if it's allowed. Those on that side wish to try the old homelands, and see if they will be received well. Is that a thing that might be done?"

Bridget nodded, as if she actually knew the answer.

"Yup. We can start a bidding war. I know that you can get flights anywhere you need to go. We're covering that for you. The IPB. We should move fast, since we don't want anyone getting ideas about stopping you. Can we get a list of who you want contacted? It might take a bit. I don't know if we can just Google the right people."

It turned out that they mainly could. Or at least their embassies in New York. It worked well enough that by eight thirty-she wasn't needed anymore. They were working out of the restaurant on the first floor, so she was there when Charlot Chambers came in with Prime. They seemed shocked at the transformation of the room, but still ordered breakfast. Becky left them alone, until Bridget took her by the hand and started to walk over.

"My mom might not be all that happy with you, since you know, you banged my dad. Speaking of which, what the hell? He's my father, you know? Now I have to go and have sex with your sister to get back at you, and that's a problem, since we're supposed to wait for her to ask us if she wants to get busy." She stopped at the edge of the table, only to find that Olga and Katarine were directly behind them.

Becky waved at the table.

"You should recognize Prime from yesterday. Scott Chambers. Bridget's dad. This is his wife, Charlot. She's in charge of public relations for the IPB. You'll all be working with her closely. Katarine, she can't take any stabbings, so if you're going to attack her, use your words." It was funny, but the woman twitched, clearly keeping herself from going after Becky for saying that. She didn't do it however. Mainly because Olga was holding on to the back of her neck.

"Olga and Katarine. Olga is going to be trying out for the number two job on Team Two. They don't have anyone yet. Bridget gave her an interview last night and she sounds like she has the chops for it. She needs to learn better English. That won't be a problem. She can stick with me for now and I'll go over things with her." Because, she was bossy. She hadn't been before, but it was one of Brian's traits that was influencing her, the longer she was with him.

It had to do with the fact that the data in his head knew that the large woman was perfect for the job. Yes, she'd have some hardships too, but in the long run, she was the right person. Even Marcia had seen that. Of course Olga's blushing at the moment, and looking away wasn't helping her look confident of that. Hence being on Team Two. That and the fact that she was about as pretty as a cavewoman.

Katarine was nearly attractive enough for Team One. The problem there was her habit of stabbing things that moved too fast. Or angered her. Or sneezed, probably. Becky hadn't seen that one yet, but didn't doubt it was going to happen, eventually.

They sat and talked for a while, while the others ate. It was good. She knew that, without it being so intense that it felt strange to her. That had to be Chris moderating things for her. People talked to different governments around the world, using phones on various tables. There was even one for France. They had the largest Infected population in the world, and were led by them, so it made sense for the people to get a chance to see if that was for them. It wasn't, since no one on Spetnaz Ultima was insane.

A few of the smaller regions wanted the people, but couldn't offer them much. It worked when the person was from that area, in the main. After all, some of them still had family there, and the drive to go home when under stress was huge. That had been one of the deciding factors for most of them. Olga had picked to stay, because she simply didn't have anyone waiting for her. The same for the others that wanted to stick around. Katarine might have had relatives, but refused to subject people she liked to her. She pretty much had to stick with people that she wouldn't hurt by accident. For the time being that had Bridget playing babysitter. It worked, if having the ex-Rat Girl hit five times a minute was considered effective.

At five minutes before nine, the Director walked in, along with Lancaster and Agent Reyes. They all looked around, but Scott stood up and waved to them.

"We have a nine o'clock with Dharma. We should go for a walk." That got more people than Becky had thought she would have for her petty little issue. Charlot, Lancaster, Prime, the Director, and for some reason, Olga.

That last one was either the woman not understanding what was going on, or her trying to seem like part of the club. On the way out, Svetlana joined them. Becky shrugged.

"Come on. This won't take long, I don't think."

Chapter thirteen

Scott felt his mouth fall open at the information. Becky didn't hold back either, just laying it all out for everyone to hear.

"Karen is an alcoholic. I've seen this before, since it sort of runs in the family. She's at the point where it's going to start affecting her work, if we can't get her to stop." She spoke directly to Kevin, the older man looking concerned, but not all that shocked.

"It's been an issue for a while. Ever since the issue with Brian last year. She's an adult however, and we don't have a right to tell her that drinking isn't allowed. Not as long as it isn't affecting her work performance, which it hasn't yet."

Charlot looked disgusted, but sighed, which was what she did when she felt sad. It didn't come across very well, if you didn't know the signs. Most people figured that she was just angry all the time, but she had greater range than that. It was just hard to see. Becky didn't seem to get it, from the way she glared back a little. Not until Char spoke.

"We still need to do something about it. She's family. Yes, an adult, but also someone that we should protect. It's hard. We have so few rights here that taking even one away feels criminal itself." It sounded sharp, but that was just because she was worried.

You had to look hard to understand how much she really cared, but once you saw it, his wife was a sweet person. Hidden under the glaring. Thinking about that he smiled, which got him hit on the arm by a ghost.

"This is funny to you?" She crossed her arms, dressed in a way that looked more professional than he'd seen her before. Dressed in pants and a suit jacket. A woman's cut, so she didn't seem like a man, just like a person there for business.

"Not at all. I knew that she drank, occasionally, with a meal. It never even occurred to me to see if she was doing more than that. We don't really socialize, outside of work."

It was a bit odd, he realized, but not a mistake. She didn't really like him, and he'd gotten her sister to kill herself. He was guilty, too. Becky had told him that. It hurt, but he didn't let it show at the moment. Olga tilted her head and spoke to Svetlana, who seemed to be translating.

Then she nodded at the Director.

"Is problem. We fix." There was a confident nod, and she flipped her hand out at Scott, to indicate who she meant.

How they were supposed to do that, he didn't get at all, but the older Soviet woman explained.

"We have these troubles, in unit at times. Our old unit. We will help her. After this, Olga, Becky, Scott and I will go, and do this. Take the drink, and explain how it harms others. If that doesn't work, we will beat her." She dead panned the whole thing pretty well, as if that was the actual plan.

No one spoke for a moment, so Scott went, looking at her directly.

"We need to keep the beatings to a minimum. What we can do is get medical involved. Brian will help us."

"No." Dharma turned on him fast then. Not when someone had suggested beating the alcohol out of her sister, but at the mention of Proxy being part of the cure. It was a lot more protective sounding that he would have figured the girl to be. "His first mode would make him try to protect her. We probably won't have a real fight on our hands, but if we do, we can't have him there. He'd kick our butts, and Karen would end up feeling like it was all her fault. It would be true, but I really don't need to have him figure out how to knock me around."

Olga looked questioning about that, her face showing it, so Scott smiled at her.

"It's part of his power, I think. He doesn't lose fights when he's protecting someone. He's small, weak, and slow, compared to you or I. He'd also take all of us down in a few seconds, if it came down to it. It can be hard to understand how he'll do it, but in general it's a good thing to avoid. He's also a nice person." She looked over at the older woman, who seemed to repeat it all.

Then she shrugged.

"Ah. We go without."

As if that simply made sense. They were going to go and help Karen not drink, because she was part of their new unit. In a way it was a good idea, too. Scott could see it.

"We'll go and get on that then. We should get someone from medical. Maybe psych? Or would that just make her angry with us?" It would him.

A few friends coming in and telling him that he had to change was an annoyance, but not official. Having medical and psych in was a threat. An indication that they'd punish him if he didn't bow down to their will. He was different than Karen was that way, no doubt. Compassionate, not needing to seem incredibly self-assured.

Becky shook her head, which he thought was going to mean she didn't think that was needed, until she explained what she meant.

"We don't need them. She'll freak if we do that. We've had people go into the hospital and have some bad experiences. So, I think it might be better if we go. The four of us?"

Because, even if he was close to the woman, Kevin Moore was also her boss. Him showing up would be awkward and make them working together later harder. Especially if there was crying. Charlot didn't even volunteer for the job, getting that her first mode wouldn't work for that at all. She still had some ideas.

"Get Marcia in on it. They're best friends, and Karen will listen to her. I'd go..." She stopped there and didn't go on. Everyone that knew her got it, instantly. Olga didn't understand what she was saying, naturally, and Svetlana didn't do more than look at the Director, as if words weren't that important at the moment.

He nodded, his face sad.

"Keep me informed. Do try to keep the violence to a minimum. Karen is delicate, in many ways. I fear that if we go at her too hard, it will make the situation worse, not better."

Her sister made a face, then took two steps back toward the base, her feet silent on the ground.

"Don't worry, we'll get Scott to cry at her and seem sad about how she's hurting herself. It will warp her mind. Marcia can do it too. You can do that, can't you Prime? It's only acting, so we'll all get that it means you're strong." Everyone stared at her for a bit, except for him, and Olga.

After a bit, he smiled, not certain that he really could do anything like that at all. Karen wouldn't think he was being strong if he did that. He would be, since it was counter to what his first mode required, but that might not be enough.

"I... can tell her that it makes me sad. I can't cry." It was honest, and at least Dharma looked at him like she admired the effort. Char just looked troubled.

As if she didn't understand what was happening at all. Then, she really didn't know that his first mode wasn't narcissism. At least in part. It had just seemed like it was for so long that she'd grown to accept it. That would explain the look. Sighing, and wishing that no one else was there, he made the effort to tell her what was going on.

"I'm attempting to improve." His words choked off, and he stood, looking proud of himself, as if he was so powerful that single statement was enough. It wasn't, which was clear from the glare he got from his wife.

She didn't ask about it however. He understood that she wouldn't. It was one of the facts of their long term relationship. She didn't push him too often, on things like that. If he messed up in public, she'd berate him for it, but mainly in private. For his part he'd simply ignore her, when that happened. It was the key to happiness, when dealing with the Infected. You had to learn to get around their problems.

Becky nodded.

"Yeah, he's doing really well. Prime realized that most people find it strong and manly to be good family-man." She dead panned the line, but got stared at by Charlot and Moore.

Svetlana translated that, which had Olga looking at him.

"Da. Is good." There was a matter of fact sense to the words when she said it. Like it was a real thing, not just a trick to get past his mode. The older woman sneered a bit, but spoke very gently.

"It is truth. We should go now. This will not be made simpler by waiting."

They all went back in together, with Kevin chatting with Marcia on his phone, they were going to trade places in the restaurant so that someone in charge would be with the remainder of Spetnaz Ultima while they tried to find out if they had homes or not.

She met them outside the Team One dining facility, and looked at the Director as if wondering if there was a problem with the new people. He didn't help much with that.

"We have an issue. This is your team for it. They'll fill you in on the way." It was spoken firmly, letting them know not to talk about things right there.

Scott got it, but understood that no one else there really would. Kevin was worried that Marcia would come down on her friend's side and try to protect her. He didn't want to be the one arguing with her over the idea. So he left it at that, which had to hit Quartz right in the first mode. The suspicion was plain on her face. It normally was, but it got stronger. Especially after Char and Moore split off, leaving them alone.

The others actually looked at him, which meant he got to be the focus of her ire, if it came.

"Karen has a drinking problem. We're raiding her room and holding an intervention. You and I are supposed to be the emotional blackmail part of things. Becky too. Olga and Svetlana are the muscle, in case she started to wear us down." He smiled, making it all a joke, but Marcia looked shocked. He could relate, since he hadn't seen it coming at all.

"Are you sure? I know she drinks, but a lot of people do that. If we're telling her she can't drink, then a third of Team Two is going to have to get the same treatment. Team Three is better that way, I think. They have to be, since we haven't had to try and kill any of them yet."

Turning to Olga, she nodded, once. It was her job to see to things like that, after all.

"Da. We do. After this?"

It seemed that the IPB was going dry. Scott didn't really care, since he couldn't get drunk if he tried. He healed and processed things too fast internally. Some people would have an issue with it. It occurred to him that he really didn't know who exactly that would be.

"Is there anyone else, on Team One?"

No one knew, but that was something to deal with later. At that moment, they were going to room four on the main floor. No one knew what to do, so Scott, being an old pro at things like that, knocked. Twice. Nothing happened, so he pounded.

"Karen! Are you home?" It was loud, and early enough still that people looked out of their own doors, seeming shocked. There was no answer, so he turned to look at Tobin, who came out, dressed in his all black skin tight outfit. It looked like an alien had walked out, given his large head and green skin.

"Is somtin wrong?" Shaking his head, he stood a bit straighter, looking at Olga, then glancing at the rest of them, finally settling on Scott. "Something, I mean."

Scott noticed that Kerry wasn't with him. Not out in the hall at least.

"We're looking for Karen. Is she in with you?" It made sense to him. Tobin was funny looking, but so skilled, famous and kind that a lot of women were willing to see past that. Karen was so compassionate that people weren't supposed to sleep with her. Unless she asked. It was more than possible that she might, with him.

"Nah. I think she's in her room." It was pretty clear that he was trying to seem strong. His natural shyness hardly showed at all, even with the new people around.

Georgia came out of her room, looking at everyone like they'd missed her place. She smiled at everyone, and stared at the new people, her power spreading out just a bit. When she got excited, sexually, it kicked in. It made everyone else a bit horny. She was short haired and cute looking, so got the code name Pixie. She was in her uniform too, which was violet, like his eyes, with rainbow colors in different places.

"She should be in, here, let me try? Why are we pounding? Is she late for something again? That girl doesn't like mornings."

Almost everyone was out in the hall then. From Team One at least. Marcia looked around and shook her head.

"We're having a meeting after this. You have a shoot this morning? So, call it two in the afternoon. There are some new rules coming down. Right now we need to check on Karen. Georgia? Why don't you try?"

There was more pounding then, and when that didn't work, Olga stepped in.

"Let me?" She looked at Scott, her heavy features questioning. It was, she realized, that the woman didn't know the chain of command. He was bossy, and that meant it could confuse people.

So he nodded. She didn't want permission to knock, or make noise. Without waiting, she palmed the door, lowering her body so that she could tap the door right over the handle. It blasted open with a mighty crash, getting a scream from inside.

Scott called out, making his voice as friendly as he could.

"Karen! It's us! We're coming in. Everything is all right. Well, not your door, but you didn't answer." They found her standing next to her bed, glowing blue, with her bed sheet pulled up to her top. The glow was enough to cover her nudity, but people were silly that way.

"What's going on? I... Is there an emergency? Another attack?"

Svetlana pushed past him, her eyes going sharp and her face mean, looking at Karen, as she stood there glowing at them. It was hard to do, since even being around Lady Glory tended to leave most people feeling kind and loving.

"No, thank all goodness. You would be dead, if it had happened. Worse, you would have left your team without essential resources, lazily sleeping off you drunken stupor." Moving in, she sniffed at her, and winced. It was fake, but she seemed legitimately angry about it. "Now, get up. This is unacceptable. You will drink no more. Just yesterday this base was under attack, several times. Being unfit for duty is criminal. We should lock you away in that little gulag down below."

Karen didn't speak, her face hard to read, glowing as it was. Her tinny voice, the way she sounded when her power was active, came out a bit worried sounding.

"What? I... What's going on?"

It was different than what he'd been thinking they were going to do. Still, it seemed to be working, for the time being.

"New rules Karen. We're under attack, so we need to shape up a bit. It was mentioned that you've been drinking too much, and aren't combat ready. We all have things that will be changing now. Svetlana is going to be working with Marcia and I on some of it. Svetlana is in charge of that though, so if she says we don't drink and that we have to shape up, then we do." It was a lie, but if felt right. Marcia didn't tell him to shut up, and the hard looking older woman smiled.

"Yes. That is my place here. This is not the military, but people seek our lives, so we will not give that to them too easily. Now, Scott, you and Olga will search this room and remove all contraband?"

That got a look from Karen that he didn't know how to read, but that seemed angry. She didn't lash out, but it took prompting for her to get dressed. Tobin was looking through the door, his face scared. There were others behind him, that could be seen, with more out in the hallway.

"Tobin, could you go room to room and have everyone give you whatever they need to get rid of before the search later? It will go more smoothly if everyone just goes with us on this. It's too dangerous right now for people to be impaired."

Georgia moved in behind the small frog looking man, her body pressed against his back solidly, but she was nearly two heads taller, so easily seen.

"What counts as contraband? I can't say I like this change." There was a bit of a narrow eyed glance at Svetlana's back, but Becky was the one that spoke.

"Booze, drugs, unless they're prescription, and anything that would keep you from fighting if it comes to it. So that means you can keep your sex toys and naughty lingerie, Tobin." She winked at the tiny man, who took a deep breath.

"Good. It would be embarrassing if I had to bring all of that out." Then he left, along with most of the rest of the people. Everyone had something, except for Mickey, who simply stood in the door, smiling.

Olga gestured at him, her giant hands making huge gestures.

"Why grin?"

That got him to come in, as if invited, and explain his first mode, while the room was carefully tossed. Olga could smell where all the open alcohol was, and Karen didn't try to lie about where it was.

She just kept looking down and saying she was sorry.

It was enough that even Svetlana finally gave in a bit. Only after Karen was dressed.

"That is a start. From this point on you need to be with someone, so you will not be impaired. Your Team Leader will assign people." She looked at Prime as if he were in charge.

Marcia gave a single nod.

"Right, then. For now I want Karen to stick with Olga. She's the new second for Team Two. We're doing this for every floor. Get with Lancaster and Bridget." She stopped and looked around, then sighed. "This has been needed for a while. Good thinking Scott. Olga, you understand all that?"

The giant woman cocked her head, and then spoke to Svetlana for a few minutes, finally she turned.

"Da, Marcia. Karen is with me. We will work with Team Two."

That wasn't exactly right, but Marcia simply acted like it really was what she'd meant the whole time. Maybe it was? Making Lady Glory the new Team Two secretary might just shake some people up enough to get cooperation fast.

For his part, after that, he just searched. There actually wasn't any hidden booze around at all. It hadn't been against the rules, so she hadn't bothered. Everything would be seen anyway, so most people probably wouldn't bother. There was yelling, from down the hall, from Debbie. Scott heard the voice, and was moved along by the older soviet lady, who didn't seem certain about what to do at all. Marcia and Becky traveled along, leaving him with all the bottles, which left the room with him, tucked into a white plastic bag. It was enough he went carefully. Having it break would make a mess.

"I use it to keep things from freezing, Tobin! I need it." She was holding a bottle of vodka, the outside of it frosty, from where her hand touched. Being worked up, she was sending out waves of cold so bitter that he wanted to shiver, even from eighty feet away. Almost everyone else had moved, but Tobin was still near there, holding his hand out. Shaking violently already.

Scott solved that one himself.

"No, that's right. Debbie gets to keep hers. Just don't get drunk. We'll cover that in the meeting later. Also, no sharing it." He managed to sound so confident that Svetlana nodded, even if she didn't understand it all.

"Correct. The rest of you need to give the small comrade anything that might impair you. If you have a real need for it, other than things that impair duty, come and talk to me. I'll probably say no." There was no smile to go with it, but that was enough for a rather snooty looking Ice Queen to escape back into her room along with her bottle of anti-freeze. She was in uniform too, meaning that she was going to have to come out again soon.

It didn't take long, and no one seemed that worked up, but a few weren't all that happy with them. It was apparent from the way they looked at him and Olga as they passed. Svetlana wasn't really noticed that much. Probably because she was busily looking through her loot.

The bags, and there were four of them, held drugs, pot, alcohol and in one case a jar of carpenters putty. He had no clue whose that was at all, or what it was used for. Something that someone was ashamed of, no doubt.

Then, without waiting, they all got to go to the fifth floor. Marcia got the remaining people to gather in the front room, and stared at them all until they went silent.

"With Charles on assignment, Team Two has been without a leader. Olga is going to be your new second in command. She had a long military career, has held leadership positions in the Soviet Army, and has been a member of Spetnaz, the Soviet special forces, for five years. This means that, at least for you here, there might be some changes. We're all undergoing some right now. Svetlana," she gestured at the older woman, so that everyone would get who was who. "Is going to be our new base preparedness expert. Given the latest attacks, this means that we're confiscating all drugs, booze or anything that can impair you enough to make it so you aren't ready for duty. I know, it's a pain in the ass, but we can't let ourselves be vulnerable right now. If you have any problems with this, take it up with Prime. It was his idea. I think you all can get the point of that one? If Scott sees this as needed, then you have to know it's real."

Lobo, the violet lobster clawed man made a sound that wasn't human at all, and yet still managed to make his derision clear.

"Sure. Everyone has their stuff taken away, except Team One, I bet. This is just more crap being dumped on us. We get it. Some of us are ugly. We don't need our own people to shit on us too."

Becky stepped forward then, and pointed over at Karen, who was still glowing.

"We stripped Karen of everything in her room, and she's on Team Two now. Not forever, but these changes aren't bullshit. If you have a drug or drinking problem, you have to break it. We all need you to. So we aren't leaving anyone on their old team if that's the case. Not for day to day things. So, if you have a problem like that, stand up. The rest of you go and get your drug crap and toss it out. You can come to me if you have a problem that's a problem, if you don't want anyone else to know about it. So, Dave, I'm here for you, if you want to talk about that porn addiction." That got a chuckle, except from the all blue man she was looking at.

"Sure... take away my love life."

Svetlana shrugged and pointed at him lazily. "No need. As long as it doesn't stop you from being ready to do your job."

The thing there was that she was taking it seriously. It was good to hear, for some of the people. They probably had some strange hobbies. Not that he knew that, but being who they were, it just made sense. Infected people were often estranged from society, and some of them had been for a long time before the IPB found them. Living in an attic alone for years could cause a person to be a little strange.

Collecting bodily waste in jars kind of bizarre.

Other than the two fights, the whole thing went smoothly enough. Olga handled both, mainly. The first one was with Lobo, who had enough alcohol in his room to start a bar. It was more of a scuffle than a real fight. He pushed the woman when she moved to his room door, which got him pushed back.

That was fine, and Olga didn't even act like it counted at all. They were both warriors, at least to her mind. That meant a man pushing her was just discussing things firmly.

When Kerry got to her room, she made the giant lady fly into a wall at about fifty miles an hour. It made a large hole, and the fight there was a bit more intense. Strange too. Kerry didn't have booze at all, just a small collection of pills. Most of them in bottles that indicated they were from medical. None had her name on them at all, and most of them were depressants of some kind. That, or muscle relaxants.

There was no discussion about how she needed them, or that they had a real medical reason. She just lashed out, and started fighting instantly. Scott was impressed. Olga was used to batter Quartz, and then he found himself flying at Svetlana at decent speed. Luckily he managed to kick a foot down at the floor, raising his body as she ducked, missing her. It was an interesting situation for them really. All of their powers were physical in nature, meaning they needed to come into contact with the upset woman, except for Lady Glory, who was just standing there, looking away.

Pretending not to notice. That was in revenge for her having to not drink anymore, Scott was willing to bet. Standing up he started to let his right hand glow black. It was a less than perfect answer, since his power blasts were devastating when they hit something. Really, the girl wasn't a good target that way. She was powerful and could toss them around like dolls, but if she were hit with a fist or power blast, it could kill her, just like a regular woman.

She really didn't want her drugs taken away, so it looked like it was going to be a big deal. Right up until Dharma walked over to her, almost primly, and slapped her. She was a ghost, but Christian could make the blow feel real enough, which got the slightly smaller and stockier Team Two member's attention.

"Hey, snap the fuck out of it!" She didn't have to hit her twice at least. The girl just stood there, looking horrified.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!" There was cowering away then, as if she expected a beating, but Olga just moved in and lightly touched her arm.

"No drug. You good?"

The girl started crying, but didn't try to hurt anyone else, so it seemed it was fine, for the time being. Becky moved in and hugged her too. It was one of those things that other people could manage, that he just couldn't. Even Karen did it.

Finally he sighed.

"Well, we can consider this practice for Team Three? Come on, Kerry. It looks like you belong with them now." Not in power level, but if she was going to freak out and start killing people, that was who she needed to be around. "At least you're already a celebrity. We should make sure that this hits the tabloids. The drugs that is. Not you throwing me around like that. Seriously." He smiled, and she looked at him like he was death incarnate.

It wasn't until Hobbs moved in and patted her shoulder that she relaxed at all.

"It is not a vast shame to be troubled. Failing to address it makes it worse, so it must be done. This is the right action, Lady Kerry. Even if it feels not." There was a bit of a push on her shoulder, so that she'd go with them, as they left.

It was probably going to kill them all, trying to clear the ninth floor. Hopefully the people there would be more understanding, or at least get the idea. They all had to be ready. At least if they didn't want to die.

On the good side Karen and Olga got to stay with Team Two. That would be two less people to lose, if things went wrong. Becky smiled about it all, as if it were a good thing. In the elevator she actually explained.

"Thanks everyone. This is really helping. Karen won't feel picked on half as much this way, and we can still get her help."

Marcia and Svetlana both nodded, and Scott managed to seem like that had really been his plan the whole time. It made him look better that way. Enough so that there was a bit of hero worship in Becky's eyes. True, it was for all of them and not him alone, but for some reason, that felt right.

As if the real power in this situation was something that he hadn't expected it to be.

Respect. It felt like what he'd always really wanted.

Chapter fourteen

As Becky thought would happen, there was nearly nothing to find on the ninth floor by way of contraband. Brian had some pills, but all were prescribed, and not needed anymore. He hadn't taken them, even for the pain, when it had been needed. This was explained by Christian, who was at the table in their lounge area. She had some things, but it was pretty standard. Recreational drugs, some alcohol and a half pound of marijuana. No one looked at her all that funny when she came out of her room with it all. As had already been seen, a lot of people on the base had some things that weren't perfectly legal. Except, and it was a real thing there, while the rules they were making up that day made it so they weren't allowed to have those things, it actually wasn't illegal at all.

IPB Operatives weren't subject to arrest for that kind of thing. Actually for anything except murder. It was mainly to prevent other agencies from harassing them, but it functionally meant they were above the law that way. Some of them had pointed that out, which hadn't impressed their new coworker, Svetlana. In fact she seemed to take that as a general sign of how weak and lazy Americans all were.

Still, Team Three didn't argue about it. Penny had a lot of things in her room too, and brought them all out at once. Things that didn't make sense, until she explained. That was after she managed to reappear. Twice.

"Um... A lot of this is stolen. Even the bottles. It's a bad habit of mine. I know that isn't really what you meant, but if there are going to be room searches, I figured I should at least get rid of the obvious stuff. Besides, this will make room for more, if I need it." There was a bit of a sarcastic air about her, but the bottles were what they were after, so the woman in charge just nodded, as if that all made sense.

"You should not steal from your fellows. It creates hard feelings with people that you need to have trusting you. Return each of these things and apologize to them. You have twenty four hours to have that done." There was no threat to go along with it.

Becky got it though. The girl had admitted to it, and it was just possible that other people would find out. A lot of them probably already thought she did things like that too. It was going to be hard, given her first mode, but that wasn't anyone else's problem, was it? Her first mode was a pretty powerful social anxiety condition, not petty theft.

The girl nodded, and Svetlana seemed satisfied enough by that.

"Very well. Now we do the rest? Or only the... Agents?" She looked at Prime, who tilted his head a bit.

"We... Should get with Lancaster for that. He knows the most about the Agents. He was their leader, until yesterday. Does anyone know where he is?"

As soon as the words were spoken, she did. It was odd how that worked, but it was right there.

"In the restaurant, with Brian, Bridget and the others. Do you want me to go get them? I can just pop up there." It was too cool of a trick not to use, if people could see her.

Thinking of that she smiled at Christian.

"By the way, thanks. This is so much better. It isn't too hard for you, is it?"

"Not at all. To be honest, it takes just enough concentration that I don't notice every little thought as much, from everyone else. It's refreshing. That does sound like a plan to me however. Lancaster and Bridget Chambers could be summoned." There was no mention of Brian, but that was simply old habit. She associated him with pain, just as assuredly as if the man had beaten her himself.

"One bit then. I'll come back with them, if they can get away."

It took nearly no focus, or even thought, to find Brian. He was her anchor, and the center of her world. That sounded wrong, so she normally didn't even let herself think the words, but it was true. She loved him, and living in denial of it was mainly for his benefit. More than any person in the world, Brian Yi needed to be free of drama in his life. To be free of the useless burden that she had become.

For a moment she wondered if she could move. For a long time she'd thought that she was only able to really do anything because of Brian, but now she could see that attaching herself to Chris might actually work too. Only, that didn't fit, if she was just a copy of the Becky that was.

He knew that, but even without her knowing much more than he did anymore psychically speaking, he stood instantly as soon as she got there. Ready to go and fight, based on her being there alone. Not that there was anything coming that she could tell. That still happened, with things being dumped on them with only a moment's notice, but it was rarer now than even a few months before. They were both learning the signs, which made a difference. She waved him back into place.

"Nope, this one is for Bridgie and Lancaster. Oh, by the way Bri-Bri? We raided your room and stole all your drugs. It's a new policy. No drugs or alcohol on the base. Especially for people that won't even use them. I had them straighten up when they left." Most people would have expected him to freak at the invasion of privacy, but they would have been wrong. Brian Yi didn't care about that kind of thing at all.

He shrugged.

"Got it. Well, other than that the room is pretty empty. Unless they wanted my fingernail clippers, too?"

"I managed to save those. It took a fight. Prime was eyeing them at least. The real point there is that we invaded your space. I said it was all right, since I live there too." Sort of. In his head. After a fashion. She didn't really go inside of him, she was just always there. It was hard to explain, even to herself, so for the most part she hadn't been bothering. They were linked. It was enough. She was linked to Chris now too. It was something to think about. If it could work.

He nodded, "that's true. I was just hoping to find something to do that wasn't here. These are great people, but most of them are a bit stressed out right now." Only a few of them looked at him when he said that, several arguing loudly with people on the phone.

Bridgie stood up herself then, and stretched, her brown uniform pulling tight enough over her chest that one of the Russian guys looked, if only for a bit. She didn't catch him at it. That was probably for the best, since Prime was trying to be a good dad now. He might feel obligated to fight or yell at the man if it was mentioned, and even if he won, it might make things even more tense. Plus, he'd been good enough not to leer. It was just looking. Like what most people did when they saw someone pretty.

The girl bounced a bit, as if getting ready to run.

"Katarine, are you good here? I need to go to the ninth floor. You can come if you want?"

The woman, who looked about twenty something and was very thin, attacked, as soon as her name was called. Bridget grabbed her around the arms, and held on as she struggled. It took a good ten seconds for things to calm down, but other than her reflexes, and a little bit of extra strength and speed the woman didn't have much going on. She was incredibly dangerous, but not that deadly, compared to most in the room. Her friends didn't jump up to help her either, being used the kind of thing they were seeing.

Bridget, for her part, smiled.

"So, do you want to come with?" It was pretty clear that Katarine had no clue at all what the hell the girl was saying, but also wasn't hurt.

Lancaster stood more slowly, not triggering the lady, and moved off toward the door, waiting for them to catch up, as they moved to the elevator, he drifted over to stand next to Becky, his face a bit tense.

"Am I being called in for a briefing?" She had no clue what he meant really, but shook her head.

"Consultation. Is briefing code for orgy? Because if so, being an Agent is way more interesting than I thought." It was off color, and both Lancaster and Katarine laughed, showing that the woman understood a lot more than Becky had realized.

Bridget went still, not even cracking a smile. Whatever was going on in her head, it didn't show on the outside. It could have been anything from making a dive for the good looking ex-Agents junk, to laughing herself, or even something else that Becky wouldn't understand the meaning of. Impulse was filled with surprises that way. She stared at the small red head as they climbed into the elevator, but there was no explanation at all. One of the changes that seemed to have taken place while Becky wasn't looking, was that her little friend had learned to hold things in. It didn't take long for them to be at the table with the others. Mark got chairs for them, using his power, which had Katarine trying to hit him several times. Missing, every time.

It meant another long hug from the little girl, who wasn't that young anymore, before they could start.

Svetlana went first.

"You are in charge of the Agents here?"

He shrugged, a look of misery coming over his face. "I was, until yesterday. Infected aren't allowed to hold that position." Holding up a single finger, he let a pure white and blue flame appear over it. The thing just hovered about two inches above his skin, until he let it drop. The older lady gave him a sour expression.

"I understand. Until my ability to understand the language of those I am near came about, I was with the KGB. Back then there was only one place that a person with such skills was allowed. It seems that some things haven't changed?"

He nodded, but didn't answer that, going back to the job at hand.

"So, you want to know if we have anyone on drugs here at the base? A few drink, but we don't have any real problems. If you put out an announcement that they can't drink on base, they'll handle it."

That started a discussion that Becky didn't really care about at all. The crux of it was that Lancaster had enough faith in his men that he didn't think they needed to have their rooms searched, and Svetlana thought that verifying their good will was a smart move.

Prime chimed in with Lancaster, which got the man to snort at him and smile, shaking his head a bit.

"I'm sorry I tried to have you arrested, Scott. It wasn't personal."

The golden man surprised her then, not just accepting the apology.

"It wasn't strictly professional either. I understand what you did, distracting everyone at your own expense like that, to protect me. It was self-defense, so probably not really needed. Luckily Brian didn't shoot you for it." He rubbed his chest, near where the bullet hit.

Lancaster glanced across the room, and then seemed to relax.

"So I won't have to spend the next half year apologizing? I was worried about that. I couldn't have kept things hidden too much longer anyway. I'm due for a physical, and unless I quit, they would have picked it up then. It was a good enough reason to just announce things."

That said, they both seemed to think things were settled. Except that Svetlana didn't care one bit about any of that, and was more concerned about the Agents being seen to get special favors. That got the black suited man to shrug. It was strange, him dressing like that. Only the Agents did on base, all in black suits and ties with white shirts.

After a bit it was clear why that was. He probably didn't own anything else that had been appropriate for dealing with the team of foreign dignitaries. It would have looked bad if he'd shown up in a t-shirt and sweat pants.

He clenched his jaw, and then shook his head.

"I can see the point, especially if everyone else had a search. I think the next best thing would be to let our own people do it. They won't stint on it. You should get with Reyes or Burkes, if one of them is getting the job." Now he sounded bitter.

She looked at everyone, and realized that Denis wasn't there. It was odd, since he should have been. They'd raided his room, since privacy was a myth in their world, but no mention had been made about why he was missing. That could have been down to anything, so she didn't know if asking was a good idea or not. She glanced at Lancaster, and then Christian, who stood, and took a step back. Today she was in a nice light blue sweater, that was fuzzy and soft looking, along with white slacks and a silver necklace that had a cross on the bottom. She looked too blonde and hot to be standing there with them. She should have been off doing movies, or at least television.

She actually had, about a decade before.

"Denis is working in the kitchen on floor one with Warren. Just in case they need help with the extra people."

Becky nodded and turned to Svetlana, not keeping her out of the loop, like Chris had clearly planned. The woman was being given free run of the base, so she was pretty clearly not a threat.

"He's on a television cooking program with Mark and Denis. Kerry too. You know, the woman that was throwing you all around upstairs? By the way Mark, big drug problem there. You should probably see to that. It's why she's been sitting down there by you, trying not to be noticed the whole time we've been here." Becky was looking at her the whole time she spoke, so she saw the girl cringe away. She did not want attention right then. "We're putting her down here with you guys until she cleans up. She needs to have someone with her all the time. We can share responsible people from other teams for that, if we have to."

Marcia smiled at her and then looked at the girl at the end of the table.

"I know it isn't a lot of fun, having things like this come out, but this is important, and we don't have time to coddle everyone. So, to that end, we need to get on the Agents and then have them check out everyone else. The Director and his staff too. Svetlana, you're in charge of that. I can't be, since you'll have to search my things first. Not that I have anything like that. Drugs don't affect me, so there's no reason for it. We also need to run things by medical. That's going to be a pain in the ass. Some of the people really need help, but other than keeping them dry and pill free, we can't do much. That only fixes the symptom, not the problem."

Taking a moment to look at everyone, Becky smiled.

"Some of them will probably need drugs anyway. We just need to do it officially. If they were self medicating, it might just be that they work best that way. Medicated, I mean. Like Kerry, taking the edge off of her first mode and powers, like she was." It was a guess, but the woman made a cutely angry face at her.

Mark just seemed calm when he glanced to his left at the woman.

"I can teach you how to meditate, and use the brainwave biofeedback devices we have here? It will help with things like that. Anger and rage."

There was a nod from the girl, who had always seemed pretty calm and nice to Becky.

"It's hard. I feel so angry all the time, and then my power really kicks in. They didn't call me Poltergeist when I got here because I move things with my mind. It's a total power storm when I cut loose. Raining rocks, and water spraying from walls. Things teleporting around, the whole thing."

No one said much, but Mark just stood, and gestured to her, moving them both over to the sofa that was along the wall not far away. They spoke softly, which meant that Becky didn't hear them.

That, it seemed, was the clue for the rest of them to leave. Standing up, Katarine tried to tackle her again, and missed, which was going to be a problem, she thought. Svetlana looked at it and gave a tight smile.

"She isn't a bad person, just reactive. This whole situation is very hard for her, so she fights. Her body can't help it. When things are calm again, she won't do that as much. It might take a few days."

Becky actually understood the idea. After all, if she'd been moved in time, or told she was, and then her old enemies had claimed they were friends now and the U.S. had broken up into individual states, she might have had a problem with it. Really it was a miracle that no one had died yet. She didn't voice that out loud, since jinxing things was a bad idea. Not that she was superstitious, but just in case.

They spent the next six hours searching rooms and generally making a pain of themselves. Three people, in various positions, flat out quit. Two of them probably had drug problems, but one of them, a cook from the fifth floor, really seemed to want to avoid being searched. Given how closely watched they were, that said something. It made her very curious.

Enough so that she pointed at the man, who was in his mid-thirties and had thinning hair, and looked at Scott.

"Don't let him leave. I think we need to go over his room. Now." She didn't know what they were going to find, but there was something. She could feel it. From Brian. It was in the information he had running inside his mind. The problem, like with so many things in there, was that she couldn't tell exactly what it was supposed to be. The man was important, but why wasn't clear at all.

A team of six Agents went into the place, not finding anything in particular. They claimed the man was clear, meaning she was wrong. She didn't feel like that at all, but there wasn't a lot that could be done, otherwise. The thin cook just glared at her.

"I don't have anything, I just think people should have a right to privacy." That was when she found out something that she'd never known at all. The people that worked at the base, as long as they weren't Infected, didn't have cameras in their rooms. It was only the Infected that were watched like that and treated like second class citizens.

A sense of betrayal and outrage nearly overtook her, but then she relaxed. It was probably needed, that bit of extra privacy, just to get enough people that were willing to come and live there for their jobs. It was highly unfair, but also made a cold kind of sense. The cooks weren't required by law to be there, so they had to be treated like real people.

"Bridgie, can you get Olga for me? I'd love for her to look at things here." She had that hyper keen nose, and better yet, was an unknown to the man she was having Prime watch. The sense of him, the strange looking cook, being somehow wrong was palpable suddenly. So much so that by the time Olga was there, Brian came in too. He didn't seem to know what was going on either, but understood about what she did. It was rippling through his mind, screaming at them both. There was, in this decently small IPB provided space, something that really didn't belong.

Olga wasn't given any particular instruction, so she just sniffed around, and finally moved to the bathroom. After a bit she came out, holding some wrapped little soaps. The kind that hotels provided. The IPB didn't, meaning the man had brought his own. That wasn't against the rules, but the woman spit something out in Russian, that had Svetlana worried enough to pause before speaking.

"It's some kind of disease? She says it smells of death, like rotted things?"

The cook, who wasn't a very big man reached out and grabbed Prime's arm, then, rather disgustingly, spit in his eye. The aim was good enough that Scott moved away from the spittle as it flew, and backhanded the man, the cook's jaw making a nice crunching sound.

There was a single stab wound on the golden man's arm, as the man on the ground hit his own leg, several times, with the same hand.

Then he gasped, his broken jaw making the words he spoke unclear. Mushy and wet.

"My only regret is that I didn't get more of you. Braid said I could at least get Prime. She was right. She was-" He started kicking, and then, disturbingly, his face started to slough off. It was like it melted, but not completely. There was screaming too, but nothing useful was said, after that.

Becky spoke first. It might have been her already untouchable state, or just that she couldn't hear the man screaming as intensely as the others, but she recovered fastest. The scene was incredible, but also horrible. She was good with that kind of thing.

"Holy fuck. We need to lock down this floor. Now! No one in or out. Someone call this in. Then clear the rest of the base to a second position. I don't know what this is... Scott, we have to assume that you have this whatever it is. You should be able to fight it off, but if he said that Braid told him it would get you..." She stopped, and saw the look on his face. It was sad, but in a beautiful way. "Then we need to get everyone else away from here. We don't know if it's catching or not. Everyone move. Get away from the body, but don't leave this floor. Prime and I, we'll hold here."

It should be all right. After all, Prime was a very fast healer. If it was really a disease at all, he could beat it. A poison would be even easier. She hoped. Braid and her people had been working with genetic engineering, true, but the only thing they knew about that for certain was that they'd created a giant killer cat creature. It hadn't been released on the public, or them, at this point. Probably because a giant cat, even a class four level one, wasn't that big of a threat. A few rocket launchers would handle it, probably without anyone even dying.

A disease that could take out the Infected in a targeted fashion would frighten all the wrong people, far too much. Especially if the woman didn't intend on using it at all. She wanted a war, not for all Infected to die. Not all the regular people either. Just millions of them, or billions, all over the world.

The fear that someone, possibly the government, had made a virus that would kill the Infected would do the trick. The Infected would panic and freak out, attacking anyone they thought might have killed them. For that one to work, the man lying on the ground would have to be Infected, and working for some kind of easily tracked government agency. It wouldn't do to make the whole thing too convoluted that way. It only worked as a trick, if it were all known openly.

If she was right. Which she hoped wasn't the case. The little gash, which had come from a needle that was set into a ring that the man had in his palm, was already healing on Scott's arm. The fabric of his nice jacket had torn a little and there was a spot of blood, but when he took it off and rolled up his shirt sleeve, it was gone. Totally. So whatever it was hadn't prevented healing at all. Not the external kind. Hopefully that was a good sign.

Becky stared at Prime, feeling uneasy. It was coming from Brian. From his subconscious mind. On the surface it all looked right. Like the lovely golden man was just fine. She just couldn't really trust that sense of things.

"How do you feel? That guy went down pretty quick."

The attractive man peered at her, and then smiled, shaking his head. She felt a sudden sense of relief.

"It's doing something to me. I can feel it working. You look blurry, I think. That's something I've never had happen before. I think... I also feel sick? It isn't pleasant. Like something is trying to force back up my throat? Is that what it's like?" He turned away and vomit came out of his mouth, mixed with blood. He didn't lean into it, not knowing to. He was an amateur at it, after all. Luckily it came out with enough force that it missed his front anyway. After doing that twice, he stopped and smacked his lips.

"Okay, that's really gross. So, I think whatever that was is in me. It's working too. I need to sit down, I think." He didn't though, moving over to the corpse on the floor, who didn't look like himself anymore, and searching him for an I.D. card.

It just said his name was Mortimer Primius. Scott pointed that one out with a dark half gasp.

"How the heck did that get past the screening process? We should call the name in and figure out how long he's been here. Can you run that info for me? You shouldn't be able to carry a disease." He coughed, and then spat in the man's garbage can. From the bit of reddish pink drool that Scott wiped away with the back of his right hand, there was blood in it.

For a normal person that wouldn't have been a good sign. With a very fast healing individual it probably meant he was barely hanging on, even if he looked pretty good still. He wasn't pale, or green. Just a bit slack as far as facial muscles went. Drooping, in a way that Becky didn't associate with Prime at all.

She nodded, trying not to seem too concerned.

"I'll do that now. Hang on a second. This will be all right. I promise." Not that her words meant anything.

She moved to Brian, who was just down the hallway, near the elevators. Guarding them, in case anyone tried to leave.

"Good. Scott has that crap. I... He's throwing up and coughing blood so far. I think he's dying. The man that stabbed him and killed himself has an I.D. badge claiming his name is 'Mortimer Primius', if you can believe that. Get a phone and call that in? We need medical, but-" She didn't want to finish the sentence, but she knew what was coming, didn't she?

Inside, Brian did too. He was working very hard to deny it, however. Mostly. Part of him was already trying to blame himself for the loss, since his power hadn't let him take Scott's place. That was going to be hard for him to deal with, if they lost Prime.

Which had been the real point, no doubt.

Braid couldn't see Brian in the stream of possible futures, which functionally left her useless in regard to him. Worse, every time she sent someone else for him, working blind, Brian kicked their ass, sometimes simply killing them outright. This would strike at him from a direction he couldn't beat however. As long as Braid did it right.

She couldn't know what Proxy would do, sure. So she made certain that she took out someone that she could get. Like his son. The whole thing the day before, even the direct attacks on Brian, were probably all staged, just to get him to let his guard down from a different direction. Like inside the base itself.

There was no way that a man could have gotten inside their base with a name that basically meant "Death to Prime". Not through the front door. She spoke all of this out loud, feeling it more than reasoning the whole thing.

"Well, call that in and see if anything can be checked out? We should get a head count, to make sure we don't have any extra people. Or that we're missing any."

"I can borrow a cell for it. Can... you go and sit with him? Let me know if he needs anything?"

"Yes. Get medical. Maybe they can fix this?"

That wasn't happening. He might fix himself. Or, and it was a huge risk, they could ask Elizabeth to come and try to heal him? Brian was clearly having the same thought, but shook his head. The idea inside was clear. A thing of crystal and certainty that practically poured from her friend. If they let her do that, her life would functionally be over. The government would send people to take her, before the day was out.

They could send her into hiding, but she'd probably have to leave their version of Earth, in that case. There were things that the people behind the scenes that had power really wanted, and healers that could work at that level were one of them. If they could take Scott out of the building, it might work. The thing with that was simply that they didn't know if that would spread a super plague or not.

If it was a contact poison then it wasn't a problem. They could get Mary to simply pull a mask over her face and take him to the coffee shop for fixing. Then they'd just wait a bit and tell everyone that Prime had fixed himself.

If it was a disease, then they would have to be far more careful and everyone there might die from it. It left one really obvious problem that she could see. If they waited to find out, then Prime would probably be dead. Unless he really kicked the whole thing on his own.

In short, they were screwed. Brian wouldn't risk Elizabeth, not even to save his son. In his mind it was a first mode problem. He had to sacrifice his family, to protect an innocent woman. So he would.

"Call Mary and see if she can take him someplace safe? Or if she has any idea of what to do? We have to try something. I don't think this is going to spread."

"You also don't know that it won't. The best we might be able to do is to just sit in here and die."

She nodded. True, she was already dead, so it wasn't as big of a deal for her, but the rest of them had something to lose. Still, if they were careful enough, maybe it would work out?

"Make the call. I'll go to Prime."

Brian took a deep breath and then jogged away, to get that phone. It would be easier if he carried his own. Faster, most of the time. She ran, not really wanting to see Scott suffering more than she had to. It was her part in this, being the witness to whatever happened, so she went, and looked at the man, as he lay on the floor, next to the other corpse.

She got the idea right away, since he was also standing right there, next to himself, dressed in his cream and gold colored uniform. The body on the floor was dressed in a suit still.

The only really interesting thing was that he was holding a squirming ghost in his giant hands, not letting the other man go at all.

His killer.

Dharma smiled, "oh, now that is freaking handy. I have some questions for you."

Chapter fifteen

Scott looked down at his own body, and realized what the situation had to mean. He was pretty dead. Or, from the way his physical shell still struggled for breath, he was dying, if accuracy was important at the moment. That was a different thing, but probably wouldn't help him all that much. It was just one of those things, he thought. Once you were dead, it would be harder to get back inside than not. There was no handy medical team working on him either, and while Becky was a sweet girl, now, she didn't have a body with which to pound on him or a mouth to put to his so that he'd keep breathing.

So all he had to make things better was the little man in his hands. The ghost of the Prime killer. As Dharma had just mentioned, it was potentially handy.

"So, I don't suppose you want to tell me what the deal was here? Why I had to die? First, how did you even get in here? Our security is pretty good, most days."

The man in his hands cackled, clearly not feeling like being sane, now that he was gone. Scott actually felt a bit bland personally, if he were going to be honest. Peaceful, and relaxed. He was gone, but not upset about it. That kind of surprised him, since he'd always figured that he'd go into death kicking and screaming, struggling against some foe that no one could hope to beat. He simply felt a little sad, because he hadn't been a very good father, or husband, yet. That was all however. He'd been a hero often enough that there was no sense that he hadn't done his part. He'd even made a difference to the lives of a few people. The connections of his actions had been good, over all. Some darkness existed as well, but it was outweighed by the positive. Pretty much.

Becky's death had been a huge stain on his soul. He could see it now. His first mode had driven the girl to her death, and there was no way for him to forgive himself for it. The thing there was that the girl, who was still standing in front of him, had. Just as he could forgive those that had wronged him. Glancing around, he waited for Crandall to pop out and accuse him, since that was another dark splotch in his being, a true murder, but the man was either being nice about it all, or had already moved on. There was no white eyed specter there at least.

Just a greasy looking dark haired man, that made Scott oddly happy. In that he hadn't had a lot of access to anyone's food. The soap bars had to have been meant to kill everyone. He'd pretty much said as much. The nifty ring had been for him, but if the man had been in the kitchen for even a few days, a lot more people would have probably died. So even if Scott had to die that day to stop it, to get the man to kill himself, it was a happy thing.

He expected a fight, since that's what he would have done, but the man sobered and gave him a single push to the chest. It didn't send him flying, but the other dead man moved, free of him. Then he just stood for a bit, looked at the other two, and laughed.

"I was brought here by Braid's dog of time and space. Tesseract. Given a badge and told to kill you if I could, and everyone else here, if possible. I needed a soup, or some gravy for that, and it just hadn't come up yet. Braid said she didn't think that last one would happen, but it was what got me to try. You traitors are enabling the government. Without you the Infected would be in charge. In control of the whole world, like we should be. Maybe that wouldn't be better for everyone, but it would be for us. That's all I have for you. I gave my life to kill you, Prime. It was all I had left. My family, my boy, were stripped from me, due to the hate you helped bring into being. The state took him, because I'm Infected. Now, thanks to Braid and her people, I've stopped you. You evil piece of shit!" He tried to strike with a fist, but it didn't connect at all.

Because the man stood back, calming down before it could land. If it would have anyway. They were dead, so the old rules might well have changed, as far as things like that went. Scott felt like it. It was a deep thing that felt good. He was free of the drive that had always been there, forcing him to be his own father figure.

Captain Superior. A cartoon version of a man. A caricature of a human being that had caused him to act like a fool so often that it was nearly comedic. Even his golden skin and gleaming teeth had come about because his tiny baby brain hadn't been able to understand that the image on the screen wasn't real.

Now that force from within was truly lifted, leaving only what should have been there to begin with. Kindness, love and compassion. He smiled about it, since he'd always thought of Lady Glory as a weak person, because of those things. She was flawed, and had her problems, but it wasn't her first mode that made her that way. His had done it to Scott. Now that was, thankfully, over.

There was, he knew, something else there. His first mode had been lifting over time. It didn't make sense, except that, being dead, he could see more of the world. He understood things, a bit more clearly. It was just that he didn't have time to think about it all, at the moment.

He looked at the attacker, not even caring about what he'd done anymore, and shook his head, feeling bad for the man.

"I'm sorry that you had a hard time in life. Taking it out on other people isn't the way to fix things. Braid is insane, and can't see it. It's part of who she is. For all I know, you had something like that going on too, but harming other people is always the wrong thing to do."

That got the smaller man, who was still pale, to roll his eyes and pace a little, agitated still.

"Easy for you to say. How often have you and your people held the Infected down? Literally killing us, so that we couldn't exist in the world? You blamed us for our first modes, claiming that our lack of control was our fault, but you never punished the people that drove us to react, did you? The bigots of the world, the bullies, the ones that pushed us around, and made us feel ashamed of ourselves. You and your killers always sided with them, even when it was clear that they were wrong. They claimed to be the victim, and you just ran to help them, not caring at all about the lives it cost. Now we're taking the world back from you, and them. If you won't help us, then you don't get to live. It's that simple."

The little greasy haired killer looked off behind them, to the right, and smiled. It was more relaxed now that he'd had his say, but other than a soft glow, Scott didn't see anything. Not at first. A moment later he understood what was happening, as a tunnel opened in the space in front of the wall. A white light, at what seemed to be the end of a dark walled tunnel.

The smaller man laughed a little, but seemed more normal suddenly. Less angry, and like a real person.

"That looks to be my way out. Excuse me now. I guess I should say that I'm sorry for killing you?" The little greasy looking man, his dark hair looking black as he stepped forward, turned just a bit in the mouth of the thing. "I won't though. You deserved this. Taking you out of the picture gives the world a chance to improve, so you can take that to the grave with you. You hurt people, without ever even considering that it was the wrong thing to do. Maybe this will be a sign to those others like you that helping the norms is the wrong thing to do?"

Then, without even looking at Becky, he walked away, vanishing in the distance. The strange thing was, now that Scott had noticed it, the tunnel didn't vanish, even after the man disappeared. Becky moved over to him, her hand on his arm. Then she leaned in and kissed him gently, on the lips.

"I can feel you. I... This means I'm actually a ghost, doesn't it? I really thought I was just an imprint of myself. I mean I hadn't seen any other ghosts at all, not in the last year. Trust me, with all the people that Brian's killed, there would have been some around. I wonder how that works?"

It was an interesting question, and while he felt like it was the right thing to do, walking down that tunnel of darkness to the dot of white within, he didn't do it. Not yet. He had unfinished business, didn't he? Not that there was much of a choice in the matter. His body wasn't healing from the disease within it. He was choking on his own blood, he thought, and even his spirit had already given up on the husk that was once himself.

"I don't know, Becky. Maybe you left too soon most of the time? Or maybe you just didn't want to see them? That guy wasn't all that pleasant, was he? He's wrong, but it isn't much fun hearing someone say that kind of thing. I wanted to see him, though. So did you. I've helped some people. I haven't been perfect, but there are very few deaths on my soul. Yours, of course. Thanks for forgiving me." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his face smiling. After all, he could say goodbye through her, which was more than most people ever got to do.

It would have to be enough, Scott decided.

"My biggest regret is that I didn't get a chance to really be good husband and father. Or son. Most people only get two parents, and I ended up with three, and was still a pretty lousy child." Winking, he moved in and gave the girl, the woman, in front of him a hug. Not wanting to let go of his life yet. Not even this one, dark, somewhat painful, part. "Tell them all that I loved them? Even if it didn't always show? I felt it, inside. Always."

The girl, who had once been known for her dark glances and hard demeanor, his daughter's best friend, and a person that he should have cared for even when she was alive, suddenly seemed sweet. She glanced down at his body as it kicked a little. That was the right leg, spasming powerfully enough that he flopped around a bit.

"Yeah. I will. I wish we could do something to undo this. I... You know that I'm tied to Brian? I know things, about the future and what needs to happen, for it all to work. Sometimes. It's always hazy, but there. If you die here today, it will ruin him for a long time. Thousands will die because it. Between Brian and Bridget, it will start that war that Braid wants. I just can't see a way to stop it from here. I think-" She gasped, which wasn't needed. They didn't need air. Not where he was going. "I think that she's won. This is the thing that ends a big portion of the world."

Looking down at his old husk, the shirt being nearly destroyed from his movements on the floor, the armor under his skin rubbing against the tile, ripping the poor thing to shreds, Scott made a face.

"So, in the end I'm actually important? Who would have figured? Oh, right, I would have. I have to say, not having a first mode is nice. So, how do we fix this? We have to steal this back from her. Braid might win anyway, but we can't just let her do it. If she wants to kill all those people, she can damn well work for it." The problem there was that nothing at all came to mind.

Even Becky just blew out a big breath, her cheeks filling with air. It was cute. She still looked so young. An innocent that he'd taken advantage of, all those years ago. Because it met his perception of what a real man would do.

"Not a clue Prime. Not a frigging idea at all. You aren't dead yet, but unless we work out how to get some help in here, I can't see you making it much longer. Maybe we could attach you to another person? If your ghost is still around, I bet you can keep Brian and Bridget from going off the rails. I think I can do the linking for you. Christian can help with that. She always liked you anyway."

That was news to him, he didn't believe it, to be honest.

"I always felt that she barely tolerated me." It was sort of funny now, come to think of it.

"What? Not at all. It's just her first mode. Back in the day she was a bit of a slut, if you can believe that? Doing porn tapes and almost any man that would have her, which was a lot. She still likes men, but she also can't stand being around people, for the most part. You should hear how she talks about some of the guys here. The only one she doesn't want to screw is Brian. Well, Director Moore too, but you know, he's old. Still, she's talked about Martin Joabs a few times, so it might not be an age thing."

Smiling he shook his head.

"Well, that won't help me now, will it? I suppose it's always nice to hear that people don't hate you." He nudged his body, his foot passing through it, instead of stopping on the surface.

They didn't talk for a bit, Becky just moving in close to him, and holding his hand as they watched his body take its final, painful sounding, breaths.

That was what they were doing when the two dark colored Ninjas appeared in the room. He stood back, wondering if they'd come to toss him into that tunnel to the afterlife, but they both moved to his real body, the slightly larger one pushing the other out of the way.

"Tis late, I do not think the spark of life exists in him still." He recognized the voice, and so did Dharma, it seemed.

"Elizabeth! Can you heal him? I... Think that spark of life is here, beside me? We just need to get him into place. Go, heal! I'll handle that portion of the day's events. Scott, I know that it might be tempting to let go, but people need you. The world does. Will you go back?" She asked it, as if he had a choice.

Which he did. He could let millions die, or even more than that, and move off into the light. It was strangely peaceful, and he didn't really find the idea as hard to deal with as he would have thought. Mary stared at the girl next to him, who was still holding his hand. Scott smiled, but understood that his bio-mom wasn't looking at him, because only Becky was getting help from Christian. They lived in a complicated world, at times. It was still nice to get to see her, even if she did look worried.

"Oh shade, I beseech thee most humbly, aid us in this, and do not let my child die this day. Take my life in exchange, if such must be given." She knelt, her hands going out to her sides, palms up. Ready to give whatever was required. Even if it meant dying.

For him. The man that most people thought was no more than an ego on legs. It was so humbling that he did something that he hadn't thought would ever happen. A tear came to his eye. He cried, with a smile on his lips.

Dharma shook her head. "Go Liz. I've got the spirit part. I think. He needs a body though. Prime, get ready, we have to do this. For your family. Hold on to that thought, and fight." She looked at him and grinned, moving in to whisper in his ear. "You know what I find really strong and manly? Being alive. Only little bitches die too easily."

He laughed. There was truth to it. Yes, he wanted to go off and rest, but there was also a chance to help other people. Scott needed to take that, didn't he? Plus, he had a chance to make things right still. For Charlot. For his daughter. For all the people that he'd hurt over the years. Even Becky. How often did a person get that with the dead?

Elizabeth moved in and her bare hands touched the flesh of his neck. She stiffened, and spoke between gritted teeth, the level of work obviously high.

"If there is to be life here, we must needs have it within the form. Now." Then she grunted. After a moment, she screamed. That didn't end, and just got louder, wavering only when she had to take a breath.

Scott didn't know what to do, but Becky waived at his body. "Lay down in it and remember what it was like to be you. We don't exactly have a guidebook for this, so fight. Tie yourself to your body again. I think that Liz here is going to die, if you don't live, so we have to try. So don't fuck this one up, Pri-Pri."

"What?" He felt a line of shock at that news. This woman that didn't even know him was risking her life, just to help him? He'd done that kind of thing, a few times, but no one had ever done that for him before. Well, one person had. Brian. He thought of that as he laid down, since the man ran into the room, looking wild eyed, a gun in his hand.

This wasn't a problem that could be solved by killing, Prime didn't think. Scott didn't think so either, but there was a strange sense of himself as two separate people for a moment. The one that everyone knew and loved. Or hated. Prime. The other was the being that had always existed below the surface. The thing that he should have been, except that life had gotten in the way. He resolved to not let that happen again, if he got a second chance.

Becky gestured, her face looking scared now.

"Um, hurry up? No pussing out here Prime. Go! Come back to life!" She waved, but he was already doing it. Trying to tie himself back into being.

It just wasn't working. He fought to remember what being him was like, but nothing happened, even as he laid in his body. The connection that was required didn't come. It was too late.

After a bit, Becky sighed.

"I... think I get it. You don't really know how to connect, even with yourself, do you? You don't have time to learn either." She looked at Brian and then the screaming Elizabeth. "But I do. I can do it for you. Maybe. Thanks Bri-Bri. You're a big boy now and don't really need me anyway. I love you." It sounded a little sad, but she reached for Scott, her hand actually going to the floor as she moved in on top of him. Lying on him. He felt her merge with his energy, and a moment later, felt himself being inside again. With the girl that had just been outside of him.

Then he opened his eyes, with a movie worthy gasp.

The healer kept screaming, but it got quieter, and after two minutes she actually moved back, sweat covering her body.

"He lives, and will continue to do so. He is a strong person, this Prime. Like a Doyle, that way. Did that shade exchange her own unlife to do this?" There was only the question, until Brian nodded.

"She isn't in me anymore. I think she used her own being to cement things together. That was what she was thinking when it happened. She let go of the bond with me for it, to save him." Shock rang through his voice.

He wasn't very old, Scott realized. Only in his early twenties. He'd killed hundreds of people, and nearly died so many times that he didn't even react to that sort of thing anymore, but this death had shaken him. It hadn't really occurred to him before, but Becky wasn't just a problem for Proxy. She'd been his friend. His link to the world, when there was nothing else left.

Now, she was gone. From inside Brian. Scott looked up, still lying on the floor his body covered with sweat and less savory things. Standing next to the man was Becky, who smirked at him, rolled her eyes and vanished. He felt a sudden sense of loss too. That kind of sacrifice, just for him. It was the same as her giving her own life.

To save millions, rather than in pain and sorrow this time. He felt something on his face, and reached up to touch it. A damp track, coming from his left eye. A tear for the fallen. Then he sat up, and was surprised when Mary moved in and hugged him, holding him close. She looked young, like a fitting match for the hard looking and pale man next to them.

Brian took a deep breath, trying to get steady.

"Becky." It was a single word, filled with more sadness and pain than one person should ever have to bear.

"Yeah?" The word took him by surprise and he wasn't the only one, in fact everyone but Elizabeth jumped, and spun to look at the girl in the doorway. She grinned, her face a bit wicked seeming. "What? I had to go and give Christian my new address. Inside Scott's head. I didn't know what else to do. Sorry about this Prime. But, you know, suck it up. I saved your life, so I expect a bit of respect in our time share deal here." There was no smile behind the words, just a dry expression. A thing that spoke of knowledge that someone like him would simply never have.

Though he remembered it all.

The tunnel that he didn't go into, the conversation, everything. Even the pain of dying. That part sucked. Still, he stood up, and passed out hugs, as Becky did the same. Then, after touching his hand, Mary spoke, her words soft.

"I am glad that you live. I would be closer to you, if it is allowable? As a family?"

He nodded, but didn't speak. She vanished then, taking a very beaten down looking Elizabeth along with her. He needed to get her something. A present or whatever it was that healers from her world got as a reward for a job well done. Hobbs would probably know what to do that way. Or Mary would.

He looked at the body on the floor, the one with the fake name, and repeated the whole story the ghost had told him and Becky. She filled in some gaps, but they both clearly had the same experience. It was a bit strange.

Scott smiled, and started to walk out of the room, then froze. "Oh, right, quarantine. I forgot, since I'm healthy again. Is everyone else feeling all right? I'm not certain what we should do, to be honest."

Brian got that one, and moved to sit on the bed, leaving the single chair in the rather plain space to him. "We wait. It could be a while. Medical is sending a crew in, but they have to be very careful. They've locked down the whole base, and isolated this floor. We should stay in here and keep the door closed, just in case. I wonder what the point of all this was? Just to take you out of the game?"

That sounded a bit dismissive, and while a part of him wanted to fall back on his old habit, his first mode didn't force him to. Not at all. After a few seconds, he grinned.

"I..." He moved across the room, and found a decorative glass orb on the dresser. It was solid, and had small bubbles of air within it, but not many. Squeezing it, he made it shatter. Then he let a black nimbus of power from around his right hand, facing the outside wall. It was as easy as it had always been, and his hand healed from the cuts that he'd just made with the glass. "I'm fine physically. I think, and it might be too early to tell, but I think my first mode is... gone."

Becky tilted her head, and then nodded.

"Yep, that seems right. I wonder how that happened? The rest is all still here. All the memories and that kind of thing. A bit slower, brain wise than Brian, as far as that goes, but I'm guessing that he's special that way. In a good way. Not that you ride the short bus. You aren't able to hold on to me though. That part of Bri-Bri was nice." She smiled, and then looked at the man, awkwardly.

Brian fixed her with a gaze and smiled.

"Right. You loooove meee." He seemed happy enough about it, until Becky hugged him and held on for a long time.

"Yeah. A lot of people do. Of course they normally don't announce that sort of thing in front of your girlfriend. That's not going to make holiday dinners awkward now, is it? Why don't you boys stay here, while disease free girl goes and sees what the medical people are up to? Hopefully not smothering us all by cutting off the air flow, or anything. You can bond and get to know each other over the corpse. That guy was a bit of a douche bag anyway, so I don't see any need to be too respectful with the body. You can draw dicks on his face or something. Or maybe not." She glanced at the melted face, and then walked out, as if she actually needed to use the door.

Brian looked at it too for a while.

"I'm glad that you survived. I don't know what I would have done, if you hadn't. I don't think it would have been good. That had to be the point, didn't it? I wonder how Devorah didn't see this one coming? She should be able to see the rest of you. Even Mary and Elizabeth. Not me, maybe, but you get the idea? What you do and all that? She can't hone in on me for some reason, we think." He went silent, thinking, it looked like.

Scott had an answer. It was simple enough really. Ghosts.

"Becky did it. I'm willing to bet that Braid can't see her. So her sacrifice, her saving me, wasn't a thing that could be accounted for."

"It makes sense, I guess. I wonder what else she's layered into all of this? Braid, I mean, not Becky. I keep thinking that Spetnaz Ultima is a trap for us, but so far they just seem like people. Loud ones, and stressed, but not like they were planted here to attack us. Were they really just the distraction? So that this guy could get to you? Or part of what was needed to set that up? You probably wouldn't have met him at all, if those others hadn't come." He sighed, and leaned back. "I hate this part of working against her. You can never know if what you're doing is part of her plan, or not. Still, a Prime without the ego issues, what will the world think?"

It was a really good question, and Scott thought about it, sitting with his hands in his lap for a while.

"You know, I don't think I care what they think? I mean, a little bit, but not like before. I care what Charlot and Bridget think. Maybe you and Mary, mom and Kevin. I guess, if she's going to be living inside of me, I better learn to consider Becky in that too. The rest though, it's so strange, but I don't feel like that's very important anymore at all." He smoothed his ruined shirt, but just glanced at the door. He could hear the elevator working, and, he realized, Becky moving down the hallway toward them slowly. She was with other people.

"I think medical is here." It was almost like a new sense, and the door opened without anyone even knocking.

Doctor Burrows came in, alone at first, dressed in a blue suit that had a face mask and a hose running to a pack on her back. The area over the face was clear plastic, so they could see her face. She had to yell a bit to be heard, and still managed to sound far away. Removed from them, in her little protected environment.

"I need to check bio-signs, then we'll get you other rooms to wait this out in. No one is leaving this floor until we check everything out. On the good side, this seems to kill so fast that it can't have had much of a chance to spread. Becky filled me in, how you healed from this, so no need to speak of it." She got to work, but didn't take blood, since sticking them with a needle in a room that could be contaminated was a poor idea. When she finished, she winked, looking right at him. "Now, both of you strip. We need to get you into the showers, and treat your clothing as contaminated."

The freaky part there was that she clearly meant it. Not that the idea bothered him all that much, given that the woman had seen him nude more often than anyone other than his wife. She found excuses to do it. Medical examinations that had no real purpose, for instance, and requiring him to get naked for pictures. He hadn't really considered it before, since of course she'd want that kind of thing, but it occurred to him suddenly that she might have actually been doing something else. Taking samples, for instance? He'd figured that she just wanted to have sex with him, and had even considered doing it a few times.

Now it all seemed a little different. Oh, she'd flirted with him, and even felt him up, but that felt wrong now. After all, for decades he'd slept with a lot of women and the Doctor was a cute Japanese woman. All she'd had to do was ask, if it had been what she'd wanted. Not now, but... There was something that he'd realized, when he was dead, that he had time for now. A thing that he'd been aware of subconsciously for a long time, but hadn't put together, until his emotions were out of the way.

He looked at her and smiled. It was a small one, but seemed worth doing. She was his friend, after all.

"Say, Doctor... Have you been working on something to get rid of first modes? Maybe a gene thing? I don't know how that would work."

She went still, and Brian stood up, his face shocked again. Not as much, or in the same way as when Becky had vanished, but he was baffled, it was clear. The woman seemed scared, as if anyone in the world would blame her for experimenting on Infected people.

"I have. Why?"

He thought back. Some of the samples had been shots, hadn't they? Tricky things that he'd barely noticed at the time, as she made eyes at him, her perk breasts distracting him, as they rubbed against his arm.

"I think it's working. In me, I mean, if that's possible. My mode is gone. My guess is that it's been happening for a while, but the healing that had to happen so that I'd survive this pushed it into being totally."

She swallowed, and then, inside her blue hood, the air hose making a soft hissing noise, the cute woman nodded.

"Would it be all right to get more samples from you, and run some tests? I know that you might not trust me now. Human experimentation is illegal. It's also really useful, for certain things." She looked down, then collected up the materials she needed, including his and Brian's clothing. She looked at the nano armor, her eyes going wide. "Crap. Well, if it's not infected with anything, I can give it back. Just try not to go anywhere, if you don't have to?"

He shook his head, and then laughed.

"I'll try, but that isn't always under my control."

She seemed to understand, and looked sad about it. Then looked down between his legs. It was a fleeting glance, but not professional at all. Then she ordered them out, into other rooms down the hall. It wasn't a perfect situation, but she seemed to think things might actually be all right, if they were careful.

That was good, because Scott had things to do. Like try and fix the mess he'd made of his life. Smiling he decided to give it a real try.

It wouldn't be good not to, now that he had a second chance.

Chapter sixteen

Becky grinned, looking at the scene. Scott and Brian had been dressed in sweats that someone sent down for them, so they looked like twins, practically. If you considered two completely different people dressed the same as being that close. It was a funny thought, like an old man and a puppy in the same sweater being called identical, but she kept her mouth shut as they both sat, talking about what they were going to do with their lives.

Scott was planning some things with his wife, and daughter. Actual activities, since that was a thing that had always been hard for them. Maybe even just getting away for a vacation, as a family.

"You and Mary too. Mom, of course." He sounded sincere, and it seemed to make Brian really happy. His smile was real, which it hadn't been for a long time. It seemed that way to her, at least, from the outside. People got that he was sad and felt bad about all the deaths, but most didn't know how much it really ate him up, inside. She did, having lived part of it with him.

"I don't think I can. The government gets uneasy when I go anywhere, now. Still, the rest of you should go. You can send me a postcard?" There could have been bitterness in the words, but there just wasn't. He was pleased that his son was alive. Even if he didn't really believe it was true still. The part where Scott was his boy.

It was. She'd seen the genetic testing for it.

Scott smiled at her, including her in what was going on.

"You too, Becky. You haven't had a break in a while have you? It's a shame that Brian can't come, but it will be good for you to get away."

She nodded, then made a face, trying for wry, rather than displeased. It got both of the men to look up from where they sat, in someone's bedroom. The door hadn't been locked, so they'd helped themselves. It was an emergency, and they weren't pawing through the things in the room, so it was all right. If they were tidy the person might not even realize they'd ever been there. As long as they didn't die. Then they'd make a mess.

It was tempting to lie to them both, but that might actually make things worse, later.

"I don't think so, Scott. I... You can't really hold me here, like Brian was doing." Pointing at the wall, the man understood. Brian didn't though. "There's a tunnel that you see when it's time to go. I didn't see it before, but it's there now. I think that I'm going to be leaving soon. About time. I've been haunting you long enough, don't you think, Bri-Bri?"

No one spoke for a long time, so she winked and moved to kiss Brian on the lips. Prime got one on the cheek.

"I'm pretty sure this is what should have happened originally. On the good side, I can assure you both, without a doubt, that there's life after death. It kind of takes some of the sting out of losing someone as cool as I am. I don't know if it's the case, but this is probably some cosmic bullshit about balance, or me finally learning a lesson. Like I'm that deep?" The smile she gave her friend was soft, she knew. Sad.

Brian looked down, then forced his face to relax.

"I'll miss you. I already do. I've been closer to you than anyone else in my entire life. What am I going to do without you?"

"Be careful? Wear your armor, eat all your veggies, and try to actually enjoy life from time to time? Don't miss me too much? After all, one wrong step and we'll be meeting again. No more than a few years for that, I'm sure. You have things to do first. Like I said though, you don't need me anymore. Now, if you boys will excuse me, I have some people to chat with, before I go. It's getting harder to resist, and well, I have a bit of unfinished business. No time to get to that like... now."

The pretty golden man looked away, and shook his flaxen head a tiny bit.

"So, I've killed you twice? That's got to be a record." There was misery in the words, but she laughed at them anyway. They didn't have time for that kind of thing. She didn't. No one ever did.

"You know the rules around here, Scott. Any of us might have to die, to save someone else. You understand the stakes here, better than most will. Don't worry about it. You have a chance to change things now, and that's important. It's nearly worth the awesome sacrifice that is my company. The part where you don't have to be a prick anymore all the time, I mean. It's my gift to you. Don't waste it on feeling bad." She didn't know if that was something that would be happening, but the light was starting to get brighter near the wall.

Walking out, she found that it followed her, no matter where she went. That was either a horrible sign or a very good one. She wasn't sure, but clinging to life had never been her choice had it? Well, the day before, but now it didn't seem like that big of a deal.

At the door she turned and locked eyes with Brian, her love, even if he didn't believe it.

"Everyone dies sometime. The important part is to make the living you do count. I got two turns, thanks to you. I won't forget you. Either of you." Then she left, before tears could form. No one chased after her, which she was thankful for. Inadequate as it was, that was about the best goodbye she could hope for with either of them. Her duty to them was done. It would have to be enough.

Brian knew he was loved, and Scott knew that she didn't blame him for anything.

The next person on her list of people would be hard. Not the hardest one, but still difficult.

Karen was in medical, listening to a walky-talky, sitting next to Olga, who startled a bit when she just showed up. The brutish looking giant lady smiled.

"Ghost?"

Becky nodded, "the one and only. Hey, Karen, I know this isn't a great time, but I need to say some things to you."

She nearly asked Olga to leave, but decided that it would be fine if she stayed, really. She wouldn't understand everything, but having a witness wouldn't hurt her sister at all. It would, eventually, make what she was doing seem like it had actually happened.

Karen mock glared, not being able to do it for real. She was too compassionate for that. She pretty much always had been. They'd had some issues, when Becky was alive, but it hadn't really been her sister's fault.

"I don't suppose you're going to apologize to me for making everyone think I'm a drunk?" Her hands went to her hips, which given her sporty good looks and ponytail looked adorable. Like she used to, when they were kids. Becky had always hated that. It had left her feeling like the ugly one, all the time.

"Nope. I just wanted to let you know that I always looked up to you. When we were kids, you always worked so hard to make things right, and were always a good sister." Looking at Olga, she explained. "I was the moody one. The brat. Karen was in the Olympics. It was a pain in the ass, of course, having a sister that much better than I was at everything."

Karen stood up, and hugged her.

"Thanks. I think. What's with the sudden outpouring of affection? Are you going somewhere?" It held a teasing edge to it, as if she didn't think that was possible, but then her eyes went wide. "Oh, God, Brian? Is he-"

"Totally fine. Prime too. I had to help get his soul back in his body. Scott's, and it seems to have kind of un-do whatever was holding me here. Right now I think that Chris is mainly doing it, but there's this tunnel with a light at the end, with my name on it? So I finally get to leave. I'm just making the rounds, and telling everyone I love them and that I'll be thinking of them. You were the best sister ever, Karen. I always thought that. Always."

It was a lie, because there had been a time when she'd hated the snooty and perfect bitch, but Karen knew that. Becky hadn't had much of a choice at the time. So she was revising history a bit. Now was what counted.

"Can't you stay, just for a bit?"

She shook her head and nodded at Olga, "you two watch out for each other, okay? My sister is a sweetheart, but she has the common sense of a goose. If she starts drinking again, slap her around for me?" They both got hugs, which felt real to her, thanks to Chris. She held that link tighter, which had Chris doing the same, holding her there. It was enough, she thought. Or would have been.

The light at the end of the tunnel tried to draw her in as she turned, being harder to resist now. She wasn't finished however, so that could wait. It was strange, but deep inside the light, there was a stirring, she thought. It was hard to make out, to be honest. Like an airplane hidden in the sun. There and moving, but more of a feeling than anything else.

Ignoring it she walked out, being almost done. There probably wasn't a lot of time left. It didn't feel like it. Something was calling to her from the other side. She headed to the television room on the fifth floor, to find that most of Team Two, the ones that were left, was there. Not Kerry, but the little pill popper had never been a close friend of hers. She hadn't even been there, when Becky was alive. About half of the people in the room had though.

"Hey all! I'm about to take off into the great beyond, and wanted to come and collect some final hugs." They didn't ask a lot of questions, just letting her explain.

Lauren looked at her, blankly. A low sob came from the slit that substituted for her mouth. "But we just got you back? You sacrificed yourself for Prime? He broke your heart. They all break our hearts." She sounded lonely, but that was her first mode, made even worse by the armor that she could never leave.

Becky hugged her, wondering if it would mean anything to her at all.

"Don't worry, this is what's supposed to happen. Except for this part, I mean. I'm a rebel though, and if they want me, they can damn well let me finish things up first. So everyone come get a hug, before whatever is coming through this thing pulls me into the light."

Whoever, and it was definitely the shadow of a man she was seeing now, was coming for her, and they were taking their time. Almost as if letting her have her moment. It was nice of them, she decided.

From there she had to find Bridget. That was the hardest one. Her best friend in life, who she'd abandoned, trying to make the horrible weight of the world go away. Worse, she'd been a child at the time. Too young to really understand that Becky hadn't wanted to leave her, personally. She imagined the scene to come, complete with tears, and possibly hitting. If Chris was going to be fair, she'd get to feel the blows too. It could happen, and she was ready for it.

She found the girl outside, watching the sky, near the fence. Every few moments, she turned, looking for enemies that weren't there, but that could be, at any moment. Even during a crises, her father possibly dying, she was doing her duty. It was like she'd become a different person, over the last years. An adult. More than that, a responsible person. A real hero.

"Bridgie!" She held out her arms, wondering if the girl was too busy for her, but found herself hugged anyway, regardless of that.

"Becky! I was just about to get bored, you can help me keep an eye out for invaders? Is there any news on my dad? Brian and the rest?" She held her breath then, but let it out as soon as Becky smiled.

"All fine. They probably will be, too. Your dad was hit hard, but has pulled through. The thing there is that I sort of had to trade places with him, for that to work, you know? So, I kind of have to leave now. I think." It wasn't exactly the truth, but she didn't have much time left. The shadow man was coming for her.

It was always a relative in the stories, but she didn't think she really had anyone like that on the other side. Maybe it would be Jesus? That could be cool.

Bridget was smart. She understood what that meant faster than anyone else had, except her father. He'd cheated too, having just been a ghost himself a bit before. Becky waited for the tears, but was just hugged again.

"You saved my dad? Thank you. I don't want to lose you." It sounded conflicted, but that was natural.

"Eh, no big, it's my time. I just wanted to apologize to you, for leaving before? When I jumped off that roof. I was a selfish little thing back then, wasn't I? It was always me, me, me. Anyway, I don't want to keep you from your work here. But, the thing is, I'm really proud of you. Like, so much more than I can say. You were always cool, but now I think you might be the most awesome person I've ever met." She held her little friend, and let go as the shadow drew nearer. She had one more person left to see, before it was all done. If she could.

One more apology to make. The hardest one of all. At least if Bridgie was going to handle things that well. It was a surprise, but a happy one.

Charlot Chambers was up next. She should get to Chris too, but there was the sense of a small sad smile in her head. She understood it all. It was her curse really.

"Tell everyone that I loved them. I have some things left to get to. You know, it's a horrible habit, leaving everything until the last second. Love 'ya, Rat-girl."

"I love you too, Becky. I... don't know if I'll see you again. If I do, it probably won't be soon. I'm pretty sure that I'm going to end up living for a long time."

Becky nodded. That made sense. The girl might even be functionally immortal, as long as she didn't starve. Certainly very long lived.

"Good. I'll see if I can get a day pass and come spy on you sometime. You know, in the shower. Just to leave you feeling uneasy."

That got a chuckle, but she had to leave, if she was going to get to the last apology. She found the woman on the second floor, in the Director's office, along with the man himself, Marcia and Penny.

She said a hasty goodbye to everyone, and then hugged Charlot, which the mean lady allowed, for some reason. It was probably the death thing.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you. I was young and stupid. I should have known better. I just wanted to say that, before I go." Then, without warning, no one could see her. Either Chris had dropped her on purpose, or time was simply up. The world was gone around her too, but she'd figured it would be something like that. The light was still in front of her, and the shadow that was coming for her still walked at a measured pace, the light behind him blinding her a little.

It was damned dramatic, lacking only music. As if the thought had made it real, an orchestra swelled, starting softly, as the form closed with her. She giggled a bit, since it was both majestic and ridiculous at the same time. Then, no one had said death had to be all that serious, had they?

He was wearing pants, and not a robe, so it wasn't Jesus. She didn't think. The man could have updated his wardrobe though, over the last two thousand odd years. Or maybe it was Buddha or one of the other guys? Or her grandfather. That nearly made sense, but she hoped not. She hadn't been close to him, when he was alive.

"None of the above." The voice was friendly sounding, and even happy, but no one she recognized in particular. "Your grandfather is still alive for one thing. He actually faked his death and skipped town. Can you believe that? He moved to the Seychelles. He did stop drinking, before his liver gave out. A bit of a douche move, but like you were just thinking, it wasn't like you two were close."

Crandall stood in front of her finally, looking very different. He had blue eyes and was white, not the deep brown tan that she'd always known him as. His hair was light brown too. He looked normal. Like a real person. He smiled and waved at the t-shirt and jeans he had on.

"I know, a bit different. Anyway, I was elected to come, so you wouldn't feel too let down. Since we were always such good friends when you were alive." The words were a tiny bit snarky and he laughed at her when she made a face.

"Fuck you, Crandall."

"Tim, thanks, and I don't think we have time, or I'd definitely do that. Fuck you, that is. I do love the new look. That Goth thing was too much."

"Oh, and that whole thing you had going on? Just right, I suppose? You looked like an ancient blind man from India."

His head danced from side to side a bit.

"Well, yeah, I suppose I did. It was part of the process that made me a super soldier. There are more like that. How I was. That's part of what I need to tell you. The government has been developing people to fight the Infected for two decades. I wasn't alone, or the only kind they have ready. When the attack comes, you're going to be facing things that make me look like a joke." Holding out his left hand he stopped her from talking. "Yes, I get that, I was always a joke to you. I also drained this place of information, and had been doing that for years. The thing is, Becky, you all have to leave here. Soon. No more than a few weeks. Sooner, if you can. You have to go back, and tell them all that. I'd do it, but no one on the other side sees that one as actually working. You'd think that everyone here would love me, but no. Still, if I can't get the cool perks at least my buddy Becky can."

She nodded, and then looked past the man, into the light.

"I'm being spirit world Punked, aren't I? I didn't even know that Ashton was dead."

The man smiled, looking tolerant. It wasn't something that she'd ever seen on him before.

"Cute. Seriously, I think we could get naked and..." He looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. "Man, cock blocked by all of you at once? It isn't like... Right. Whatever." He seemed to be talking to someone she couldn't see.

He also appeared to read her mind, and nodded.

"It's that you aren't really dead. I mean, your body is gone, because being a stupid bitch, you killed yourself. But it wasn't your time. The Infection messed that up. So we can send you back in, and let you pass that message for us. Only, we can't put you back with Brian. That will screw up the whole universe. Or at least let Devorah Timberland win. If that happens, then in a few thousand years, after the events she sees happening, everything on the planet will die. What can I say? The dead can afford to play the long game. So, if you go back, we can offer you some perks. You can't be alive again, but we can change some things for you. It will be better. We can hook you up with some real ghost powers for one thing. Let you get farther from your host, move things a bit. It's not that great of a deal, but since you won't say no, it will have to be enough."

She nearly said no, flat out, "I just said goodbye to everyone! If I go back now, I'll look ridiculous. It's time. I'm ready."

Crandall gave her a look, glanced back into the light and then leaned in.

"I know, I watched it all. That was pretty funny. The others told me to let you know that it will help you, later, so don't be a moron about it now."

"Easy for you to say. You get to scamper off back into paradise or whatever is behind you there. What do I get? A life as a floating bit of fluff that no one cares about?"

"Listen up, you stupid cunt. If you go into the light now, the whole world ends up dying. So get your ass back into the real world, and tell them all that they need to get out of here and scatter, right the fuck now. If they don't, they all die. They'll believe you, unless you don't do it. In that case, I'll spend eternity telling you that I told you so."

She glared, and looked behind her, where the world seemed to be turning back into what it was supposed to be. The Director's office. Crandall snickered, and pushed her on the back, hard, sending her stumbling forward.

Everyone looked at her, surprised.

Penny, acting on instinct, moved a chair over, which she took, scooting the thing away from the other girl a bit and sat in the black padded thing, feeling a bit funny. Really strange. Like her entire body had pins and needles running through it, or electricity. The office chair had wheels, and felt heavier to her than it should have, when she'd moved it.

It creaked under her too. As if she had real weight.

For some reason Marcia poked her on the shoulder. Nothing happened. The hand ran right through her. She returned the gesture, and connected with Quartz solidly.

"This is cool. I can move stuff. It's the ghost version of getting my wings I think. I just saw Crandall. I know, some prize, right? He sent me back, and said that we all need to get out of here. An army of super soldiers, and other things is coming for us. We might have a few weeks, but sooner is better." Having delivered her message, she figured that her work was done, but the tunnel was gone, and didn't seem to be coming back. Penny kept running her hand through Becky's shoulder. Giggling a bit.

After a few seconds she nodded her made up and dyed head. That was pretty much all that let her remain visible. Makeup on the surface. That and relaxation. Otherwise she would be invisible all the time, no matter what she did.

"You can move things now? That's neat. Is Chris still making us see you?"

The funny thing there was that Becky could feel that happening. The tie between the two of them hadn't broken at all, she didn't think. So she'd been given a gift, but it wasn't total freedom. She could just move things, like a ghost? Probably nothing all that heavy either, from how the chair had felt. It was just different enough that the people in the room took her seriously.

Charlot stared at her, and then cleared her throat.

"Well, we should all go for a walk. Do you have more for us, Becky?"

"Not at all. That was pretty much it, other than the fact that my formerly drunken grandfather is alive. I guess I have to go around and undo all my noble sounding goodbyes. It's embarrassing. I'd kill myself, but, you know, oops, too late."

Marcia laughed.

"You can't get out of work that easily. Go and do that, then I want you to liaison with the people from Spetnaz Ultima. Most of them need flights to their old homes. You and Penny can work that out. The sooner the better. I don't like having that many unknowns in my space." She walked out then, as if it was just how people acted.

Penny hugged her, which passed through the first time, though Chris fixed that on the second. For her to be doing that, Becky had to be inside someone's head. Only she couldn't feel Scott at all. Only Christian.

She heard the voice in her head, which sounded resigned, and not all that happy. 'I know. It just happened when you blinked back in. I wish you would have asked first. I'm not really ready for another roommate.'

Becky winced and spoke out loud, "sorry Chris! I didn't do that. I didn't know that I'd be moving in there full time. We can chat about it later?"

There was the sense of a dismissive wave, if with a hand that didn't exist, and then the woman pulled back, only a tiny bit disgruntled. Oddly, Becky could see that one. The poor woman had enough problems without her being added to the mix.

She went to Karen first, holding her arms out. Her sister was crying after all.

"You were too cool to leave, so they let me come back. Now, stop that. It looks like I'm here for the time being." It took a while, since she had a lot of questions about what had happened, but at least she was getting things out quickly. Then she worked the rest of things backward, hitting Bridget next, who was joyously happy about the change up. That was nice, and helped to sustain her when she got to Brian and Prime, who were both still sitting in the same room, moping.

"I'm back! It turns out that death is for pussies, so I told them to fuck off with their pansy afterlife. Then Jesus and I played seven minutes in heaven. It was hot. He has really soft lips. The beard tickled a bit, but you can't ask for everything."

Brian looked at her, being used to her sense of humor by now. He smiled, and then hugged her.

"You know, I'm pretty sure you'll burn in hell for saying that. So, things were different than you thought? Did they not have a nacho bar? I know how you love your nacho's."

"Well, I used to. It's more that they sent me back with a message. Crandall did, if you can believe that one. They're keeping him, you'll all be happy to know. Though dead him is way nicer than the living one." She covered all the information, which seemed like not that much, considering they'd sent her back just to deliver it.

Then, with a lot of effort, and feeling like someone was electrocuting her, she managed to lift a small ceramic mug. It was empty, and she didn't hold it forever, but Brian was impressed.

"So they sent you back as a grown up ghost? Cool, you can get to all that haunting you've had on the back burner. Poor Chris though. I mean, she has so many people in her head all the time anyway. I wonder why they picked her? You'll have to be careful that you aren't too much for her to handle."

It was all true, but she didn't answer him. After all, she had to take things one day at a time, like everyone else.

"You both get the point? As soon as you get out of quarantine here, we all need to bail on this place. That means yanking the tracking chips, and scattering. We're going to need a distraction too, I bet. This place is watched so closely, all the time. Too much so maybe. What can we do that will focus the attention of the world away from us?"

Prime didn't seem to have anything, and didn't speak, but Brian let a single shoulder come up, the plain blue t-shirt he was wearing tight against his lean body. Looking down he worked his tongue in his mouth, like a person who needed water. That might just be the truth. No one had been drinking anything, just in case the virus was waterborne. It was probably a subconscious thing, but it made sense to her. Better a few moments discomfort, than death. Though really it hadn't been that bad for her. Even considering the parts where the universe was clearly jerking her around.

"I need my armor back, and weapons. Then a plan. I think, just maybe, it would be a good time for me to repay the local police. I owe them, so very much. That might work?" He was vague, but he was being listened to. Possibly not in this room, but who could afford to take that chance.

She thought she got the idea, even without being in his head. He could create a giant firestorm, if he truly unleashed what he could bring to bear. A thing that might just be enough to distract a few people. That was one thing that might work. She didn't like it however.

Becky had been inside his mind for too long, a part of his process, in a very real way. He hated the police in general, and with good reason. The ones in town in particular had actually tried to murder him, more than once. So there was no love lost there, but the thing was that it would hurt him to go and simply murder people. Proxy killed people. Sometimes many at a time, and almost every day. But it was killing him to do it. Breaking his mind, one day at a time. That wasn't murder though. They were two very different things.

Now he didn't even have her to share that weight with. Except, of course, he did. She was still there for him. She shook her head, slowly.

"No, I don't think so. That isn't big enough. I think we need to see about teleporting everyone out, and then blow this place up. Something so big there won't be bodies to find. That would buy us time."

Except of course, she didn't know anyone that could to that. Well, except possibly Mary Wyrdcraft, or Tesseract. Even then, she wasn't totally certain that either of them could do the numbers they needed, even if Tess there wasn't their sworn enemy. Being that he was, it might be a bit much to ask of him.

Scott rubbed his face, and then looked at her, his face slightly worried, but not smug or egotistical at all. Still just as pretty as ever, but more human now. It was nice to see. Warm and friendly, or at least like it might be, in a different circumstance.

"No. The trick is to make it seem like something else, and then bury the actual trick behind the one that they can see and believe. The government forces will believe that we'd teleport out, or do something else that's basically that. We should make it seem like what you said, like we're all dead, then sneak out with the people that come to examine the remains. I don't think we can do that with everyone, and the more exotic people will need to be out of here first, but some of us, with the right makeup, might make it work."

Becky nodded, then reached out and touched him on the arm. She realized it was a bit flirty, and stopped, moving to sit on the bed next to Brian. He wasn't married, if nothing else. If Mary wanted to keep him, she should have put a ring on it.

"Some combination of both? A fake attack here, and one on the town at the same time? Maybe something else at the same time, just so no one understands that everyone has already left?" It wasn't something she loved, to tell the truth, because people could die even faking things like what would be needed, but it might work.

Then, without warning, Brian stood up, and leaped to the right, throwing a punch in the direction that he was traveling. In mid-air he vanished.

The space suddenly felt eerie and silent. They just sat for a bit. Waiting.

"Well this sucks. I always went with him, before. So, what do we do now? Talk about vacation spots? I think I can go now. I haven't been to the beach in ages."

Prime winked at her, and looked like he was going back to his old ways, right up until he spoke. Then his voice was that of a normal person, more or less. Rich, still. Deeper than most men. Soothing however.

"I've always loved the ocean. The mountains, too. You know, I think that some people might like to go to the Team One cabin. We got it just for a situation like this. It's a bit primitive, but is well hidden."

She nodded, her face calm. She was worried about Brian, but didn't let it show. Neither of them did. It was easy, since they also had everyone else to worry about.

"It sounds like a wonderful spot to take the whole family. We should all go, I think. Soon."

They discussed it until a few minutes later, when Brian came back. He looked grim, but unharmed.

"What did I miss?"

Becky chuckled, and shook her head.

"Scott was just talking about becoming a family man. I for one can't wait to see it. Now, if you don't mind, a certain ghost girl apparently has a real job. Buying airplane tickets."

She wondered if she could do that online now. It would come down to how well computers and ghosts got along. Becky could probably tap the keys down now, and even use the mouse. It would be down to how much electronics freaked out when she did it. Still, it would be fun to try.

Smiling, she left, pretending to walk up the stairs. It was the kind of thing that real girls did, after all.

And, if nothing else, she was that. Now.

After a fashion.

Still a ghost, but at least a real one. It was enough to leave her feeling nearly happy, for a few minutes.

Then she went to Penny's office and got to work. They all had a whole lot of things to do.

That it included her was just amazing.

That was all.

Epilogue

The trick to a good disguise, Bridget knew, was not being a tiny red headed girl. People in town knew to look for her, which would make things harder. To that end, she got into the padded fat suit that Clari had made for her. It required her to wear heels that were so tall they were almost stilts. It was, she thought, fantastic. She covered her hair with a curly black wig, and then put on the face putty and prosthetics that would make her look nearly normal. The fake nose was a bit much, she thought at first, but when she got it all on, she realized something.

Bridget didn't look like herself anymore. It was a bit unreal, but no one looking at her would think that she was Impulse.

That was the real point.

Then, standing in the woods about three miles outside of town, which was near a small river, she put the powerful AC electromagnet over the implanted tracking chip. It wouldn't rip out of her skin, since that would take a whole lot more force than a portable magnet could manage. It had grown into her body, and her internal armor was too strong for things like that to easily happen. Instead it would cause it to heat up. Burning her horribly in the process.

So she shut her eyes and focused as hard she could on nothingness. That alone wouldn't kill off all sense of pain, but it would help a bit. The trick was not stopping until the whole thing was done, no matter how much she wanted to pull away, or push the off button.

The whole thing hurt on a level that was as close to mind numbing as pain got. At least for her. She normally didn't feel it at all, so she might be a wimp that way. A little girl, whining about the tiny boo-boo. She kept the magnet on her arm until something popped inside. That was a steam explosion, Bridget knew. Her body trying to tear itself apart under the energy being concentrated just under the surface of her skin. It hurt, but it was a good sign that the chip was non-functional. Lancaster had gotten her a tiny device to use over the area, just to check it out. It sent a radio pulse, and if the thing was dead, no signal would bounce off of it.

Nothing did, thank God. The thing was still inside her, burning, even as she healed from the damage. She could feel the pain still.

While she waited for that to die down a bit she surveyed her gear. A purple and dark blue dress to cover her funny looking shoes, a large bag, which had several guns and some ammunition inside, and a hiking backpack filled with explosives. Five of them, all with timers.

The plan was simple. She'd walk into town, plant the explosives in five locations that had been preselected not to kill anyone. It was a distraction, not a terrorist action. They'd go off at dawn, to wake everyone up to a happy day. It was safest then, since fewer people would be up and around to accidently get blown up.

Just as that happened, she'd walk into the police department, and start a gun battle with them. The point wasn't to kill anyone, which meant she'd been at the range, learning to aim the things she had with her, for the last ten days. If she got the chance, she was still going to kill the Chief and his second in command. They'd attacked her family. Not that they'd be in that time of day, she was willing to bet.

Everyone had told her not to. The point was to just distract everyone. She had this part, because Brian was considered too risky. He'd have killed them all. The Police at any rate.

So it was her on this one, and Lancaster taking out the base itself. A giant explosion using his powers. Doug had to help, so that it would look right, but it was an impressive effect, if she'd heard right. They'd had to sneak off and practice in the desert.

Most of the people were already gone, but when that happened, everyone would have their chips yanked at once. Eventually people would figure out that the chunky brunette bombing the town was her, most likely, since she wouldn't go down under a hail of bullets, but, if all went well, it would be too late by then.

Everyone else would be free. Not just the people at the base, but all the IPB Agents and Operatives in the country. They all had orders to run for it, all at once. It was a relief, since she was really worried about her mother. Everyone else she knew could take care of themselves, but Charlot was only a class three. This would help ensure that they were all as safe as they could be.

Of course, the second the first bomb went off, the war would start.

Not Braids war against the Infected, designed to kill innocent people all over the world, but her war, against the people that wanted her dead.

The real enemy.

Braid, and the government that she'd manipulated into coming for her people.

Moving into the town, Bridget got herself ready, and moved quickly.

After all, dawn was coming.

The start of a whole new day.

Author's Note:

Please make sure to pick up some eggs at the store, if you go out later. I think my parents want to come for a visit soon, so we need to make some arrangements for that.

Oh, by the by, that web-site with all my books on it and the link to the forum is: pspowerbooks.com I know that a lot of people have been asking you for it.

Talk to you later!

I should be back around mid-night from the club.

P.