HEROES Chapter 6

Ayana had been wracking her brain through the entire ordeal. She could have mentally destroyed Sasha if she had wanted, but she was connected to Morgan and she couldn't be sure how it would affect her. Seizure had felt them long before Mikala even said anything. It was like two minds connected by a long, silvery cord that had been stretched. As they came together, the cord seemed to be retracting into both of them, as though pulling them together. Even when she tried to reach Sasha's mind, she couldn't help but feel as though Morgan was there as well.

All she could do was watch helplessly, standing within the protective winds conjured by Wraith, poised to fight if she needed. There wasn't much more she could have said to either of the girls, telepathically or verbally, that hadn't been said already. Both seemed to have made up their minds. When Tim and Morgan left, Seizure simply stood, watching them go, the drama between those two the least of her concerns. Sasha had access to Morgan's mind and Seizure had access to Sasha's. She'd have to some how keep tabs on that girl, preferably without initiating a fight. As Sasha took off, Seizure reached out with her mind as far as she could, taking a few silent, hurried steps forward. Her connection severed as Sasha turned a corner but she managed to get something. Turning back to Wraith, her eyes flicked momentarily toward Sigma before she turned back to the masked man before her.

"A reservation," Seizure reported, "Morgan's headed to a Native American reservation in North Dakota."

Sasha made it back to the little store just in time to hear the crashing and yelling coming from inside. She heard Emma scream as a shot rang out. Well, they were on their own now as she was. She'd helped them before because they had fed her and gave her what she needed. Now, what she needed was heading for North Dakota. Shrugging her shoulders, she headed around back and slipped inside. Seeing the stairs that led to the couple's apartment, she quietly slipped inside then headed upstairs. It didn't take much to break in the flimsy door, slip inside, grab the keys to their old buick along with the wad of cash the old lady kept hidden in the kitchen and slip back out the back. She got a glimpse of one of the gang members kicking the old man and stopped, wanting to help but the voice inside of her head had other ideas.

~Don't stop now. Morgan's gettin' away and in order for you and I to live she has to die!~

Sasha turned and thought no more of the elderly couple who had helped her as she stole their buick and took off, heading west for North Dakota.



Allie and Mikaela didn't have a real good head start ahead of Sasha, but they didn't know she was following either, so they weren't real concerned. While Morgan slept in the back, Allie and Mikaela talked quietly.

"I don't know, Allie. It's like Tim has kept Morgan in limbo emotionally. I don't believe he did it intentionally, but he's an idiot to blame her for not knowing where she stands. She needed him....desperately after what her father did and he couldn't let someone else clean up and deal with RAID...it just had to be him. What is she supposed to think when he's not there when she needed him the way she did? Men....they tend to be lunkheads."

Allie was nodding her head the whole time, agreeing with Mikaela.

"I know, Mikey. You don't have to be empathic to feel the confusion rolling off of Morgan where Tim is concerned. It's sad really. They seemed to be good for each other. She seemed somewhat of an innocent when I first saw her, but she's losing that quality and quickly. He could have benefitted from the way she looked at the world. I wonder how they first met."


"He almost hit me with his car...that's how we first met. Then he saved me from being attacked by some thugs. I'd been on my own until then. He was there when I first saw my father. He took care of me but he wasn't ready for anything more. At least that's what I kept getting. He had feelings for me, he admitted that, but he just wasn't ready and I'm tired of waiting and feeling like a burden."

Allie and Mikaela had started when Morgan had started talking, thinking she'd been asleep. Mikey shook her head when Morgan got done talking, thinking about what she'd said. Would Tim have listened to her if she'd said these words to him? Or would he have walked away from her, the way he did. Morgan needed him, more than ever and he had left. She could feel what that was doing to Morgan and if Tim was sitting next to her, she would give him a good smack upside his head. And, she wasn't the violent type.

"Just sleep, Morgan. Allie and I will take turns driving until we reach North Dakota. We'll stop for gas, pit stops and food, but we'll make it there by this time tomorrow. Don't worry about anything."

Grey started down the hall without even looking back at Scavenger. At his question, however, his jaw clenched and he grit his teeth, forcing back his own annoyance along with a fresh barrage of swear words, both voluntary and otherwise.

"No, dumbass," he hissed, "I think the rest of the guards are deaf f$*&ing retards kinda like you. Now shut the f%@$ up for a minute." With gun raised, his sharp eyes darted around the hallways, watching for every slither of movement. As Scavenger fell silent, Grey's ears were pricked listening to every tiny scuttling of even the cockroaches they tunneled through the building's walls. Slowly he moved down the hallway, his feet not making a sound as he moved cautiously along the wall and turned a corner. Suddenly he paused, going still, seemingly staring into nothingness, clearly listening.

He'd found it. The distant rustle of air, the faint pattering of a heartbeat: Those distinct signs of life. Taking another inhumanly silent step forward, his eyes raised toward the door that appeared at the end of the long hallway. Without looking back, Grey took one hand off of his gun and pointed meaningfully at the expensive-looking office doors.

Tarot, the man that Grey knew as Damien Vallens maliciously grinned. The walls were invisible to him, and he knew precisely where Grey Pyre and his side kick Scavenger were. As the vibrations of his two guests made their way through the air they revealed a world unlike any other and one that Vallens was perfectly in tune to.

The smooth cocking action of Tarot's specialized rail-guns were virtually noiseless as he unloaded his first round through a wall. The bullets moved at twice the rate of a regular bullet, ripping through the wall to Grey's left. The shot burst through the gyp-rock and across the hallway just as the sound of the gunshot caught up to the blast.

A warning shot. A brief second of mercy that Tarot granted his colleague, as he was confident the second would not miss. Grey's speed was impressive, his dexterity extraordinary, but he had fought the like before. He adjusted, targeted and fired.

His gun malfunctioned which was a virtual impossibility. Almost simultaneous to the misfire, he shot off his other pistol. Malfunction! 'What the hell! Impossible!', thought Vallens, unless...

Tarot fired a shot from each gun. He was ambidextrous and could fire just as well with both hands. One purposely just missed Grey, and the other targeted Scavenger.

Stefan went down and did not move as a lightning bolt of a shot ripped through him and the other just nicked Grey's pant leg.

"Interesting." Whispered Tarot, from the far corner of the large spacious room which was void of all furniture save the table and chair in the middle. He suspected then that this assassin had some sort of defensive ability that would render his guns useless, which was partially correct. He would have to even the odds.

Just as Scavenger hit the ground another shot blasted through the wall. This one, struck Grey's handgun, sheering off the barrel and rendering it useless.

Vallens tucked his guns away and produced a shimmering double edged blade. This one, he would have to get up close and personal with. A rare turn of events for the marksman, but one that he was fully capable of dealing with as he was a skilled martial artist and well trained with a blade. His opponent was quick. There could be no errors on his part.


Stefan lay on the floor his eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling. Ever so slowly he reached to his forehead and touched it where the bullet from the rail-gun had just skinned his flesh. The would had been seared closed and looked like nothing more than a small scrape and though he had hardly felt a think, Scavenger had hit the ground as if he had been shot.

By all rights he should have been dead. If Vallen's bullet had not ricocheted off of a metal stud in the wall, it would have ripped through his chest. Still, he felt it wise to lay as still as possible considering their opponent could shoot through walls and so to the untrained eye he appeared to be dead.

Everything happened in a split second. Bullets whizzed through the doors and around Grey as he just barely managed to dodge them. In the middle of it, a stinging in his leg made him jump and Scavenger went down. Grey only watched as his friend dropped to the floor, staring emptily up the ceiling. Watching it happen, however, was the most notice Grey took. It was hardly unexpected. He'd tried to tell him he was in over his head and anyway, Grey had other things to worry about. In an act that was half-desperate, half-instinct, he turned in the direction of the gunfire, took his best guess, and destroyed the mechanisms.

At first, Grey thought his attempt at worked until another bullet came flying through the doors and hit his gun. He watched in horror as the gun flew from his hand and hit the floor, sliding several yards away down the hall. Jumping silently across the hall, Grey flattened himself against the opposite wall, his eyes ticking between the door and his gun. His gun was the source of his most deadly powers, but his opponent seemed to be able to detect him through the doors. If he ran and got his gun, he would only be giving Vallens more time to shoot at him and Grey had no idea how many guns the guy had, let alone if he could destroy them through the door. Drifting along the hall, Grey's gaze fell on Scavenger lying dead in the middle of the hall, his knife still in his hands.

The stirring was beginning grow within Grey and he paused in the momentary quiet to swallow hard and take a deep, quiet breath, pushing back the simmering sensations threatening to explode from within him. Finally, he looked back to Scav. The clock was ticking. He'd wasted precious seconds already.

He's not gonna need this anymore, thought Grey as he dashed over to him and snatched up the knife. Gripping the blade, Grey's head swam. He wasn't anywhere near as good with close-in weapons. He was an assassin. He preferred to keep his prey at bay, fighting from a distance. This was getting interesting . . . and damn if he couldn't use a coupla Vicodin and a cigarette right about now. Taking one more deep breath and forcing back the building pressure, Grey rushed forward with silent steps and burst through the door with one kick. Automatically, Grey dodged to the left and held out his blade, whipping around until his eyes landed on his target. He then paused, eyes trained coldly on the man behind the desk. He was holding an angry-looking blade himself and hardly looked surprise to see Grey. Still, he held out the blade, poised and ready, his weight centered beneath himself as he watched every tiny shift in the man's muscles, ready to react to anything.

Leaning against the table in the middle of the room, Damien Vallens appeared relaxed and cool, a double edged stiletto resting near him. Able to mask his emotions well, as all in his trade could, all that one could detect from him was a cat-like curiousity as the immaculately dressed man studied his opponent. Straight off there was the obvious contrast between them, the strung out cut throat and the high priced hit man, two sides of the same coin in a rare stand off. Tarot was hardly a stero-type though, he saw the killer beneath Grey's outward appearance and knew not to underestimate him, after all he was a meta just like him and one never knew what they carried along in their bag of tricks.

As Grey stood poised and ready, Vallens moved with exceptional quickness and drew one of his sleek pistols from inside his jacket. His movements were smooth and well practiced and even if Grey had wanted to there was no avoiding the assassin's aim, but then again he didn't have to. There was a quite click, then another. Then to satisfy his curiousity Vallens pointed away from his opponent and shot a round into the floor beside him, then once again tried to shoot Grey.

Click.

Vallens laughed. "Impressive."

He held up the gun for Grey to see. "These are so well made that they CANNOT misfire, but against you they are rendered useless." he said casually as he holstered the weapon and picked up the knife. He folded his arms across his chest and tapped the blade against his shoulder a few times while he collected his thoughts.

"Guess I should first make my bid. Its what anyone would do in my situation, so here it is. How about I offer you say, five figures and you walk away? You turn around and scrape up that pathetic partner of yours off of the floor and leave. How does that sound?"

Vallens flipped is blade in the air, catching the tip with the end of his finger, easily balancing it while he awaited Grey's answer. If he took the pay-off, he could avoid a scrape or two and it not then he was ready for the assassin. One way or another, Vallens was going to send the man back the way he came. Dead or alive it was up to him.


Wraith acknowledged Ayana with nod, then the swirling winds around them began to pick up. Clouds of dust were tossed into the air and soon any spectators in the area would not be able to see across the street let alone witness the crime fighters return to the base. Wraith carried the unconscious Sigma, easily cradling him in his arms as he walked beside Seizure.

"It was wise of you to hold back." Wraith told Siezure, "I don't really know what would happen if you had attempted a telepathic attack on the black eyed girl. She is an extension of Morgan's own psyche and the incarnation of another, it could be dangerous to engage her in such a way."

As they passed through the warehouse that served as a parking garage, Sigma awoke. He looked up, down to the floor then back up to Wraith with an incredulous expression.

"Mind putting me down, Prince Charming." he growled.

Wraith laughed and placed Sigma back on his feet. "I was wondering when you'd come around."

"Not a moment to soon." Snapped Sigma, his eyes, sheepishly flashing from Wraith to Seizure. "So I over heard something about a reserve."

"You heard right, but you're not going." Ordered Wraith.

"Says who?"

"Says, your doctor. You need rest if you're to heal and tearing across the country right now isn't going to help. Besides I need you healthy when we go up against Apex Fusion."

"Apex? You got a lead?"

"Maybe. I'm waiting on a call. So you get some rest." Wraith lightly chided.

"Sure thing 'Mom'."

Just before the secret door that lead to the tunnel connecting the underground base to the warehouse, Wraith stopped. "You keep an eye on this bruiser." he said to Seizure, "I gotta get back to work. Break's just about over."

Wraith smiled warmly at Seizure, the his face turned serious. "We're sure now that, Apex killed Silicone Surfer. When we find out where he is, we'll be sure to let you know. We're going to need everyone to take him down."

The big man then started drifting backwards as if being pulled through the air then just like a ghost, faded away.

"Damn, that's a nice trick." Expressed Sigma then he made his away through the door and into the tunnel, "Guess I'll crash here for a while, not that I'm sayin' that quack's write or anything. I just need to relax a while and let these bug bites heal up a bit before I head out."

Ayana rolled her eyes and sighed as she promptly put her hands firmly on Sigma's shoulders and steered him over to the living room. There, she pushed him onto a couch, letting him collapse there. Across the small room on the opposite couch, Shawn raised his head in acknowledgment of their presence but said nothing, his fingers still going across the pages of the book on his lap. Ayana stepped in front of Sigma, her tall form looming over him.

"My God, Sigma, you're worse than Kekoa. You're not moving a muscle until you're completely healed . . . and I'll be the judge of that!" she added quickly as Sigma opened his mouth to protest. "I've known you long enough and if I have to blast you to sleep," she went on, tapping her temple with her index finger and eyeing him meaningfully, "believe me I will." She stood up and grinned at him, seemingly enjoying her babysitting role a bit too much for Sigma's liking, especially since, knowing her, a lot of her enjoyment was likely at his own expense. "You're not allowed to leave the couch. Lemme know if you need anything." She then walked off, shaking her head and smirking as she muttered about what would happen if she didn't keep tabs on these boys.
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The only movement in Grey was a narrowing in his gray eyes when Vallens made his offer. He hadn't expected that. These high society guys were apparently a different breed. Still, it made sense in a way. The man had fired through the doors at them, accurately. This was no ordinary human and Grey was already starting to feel a twinge from the lingering thought in the back of his head that he may be going up against himself in a way. Keeping the blade poised, Grey swallowed, taking a few slow breaths to try to quell the intense pressure within him. After this long, he was usually reluctant to even open his mouth for fear of everything pouring out and losing his control.

Several moments passed in thick silence but true to his nature, Vallens' face did not falter or even change. Finally, Grey swallowed again, keeping his own expression as solid and cold as he could.

"How much?" he choked flatly.

While his grin was obscured by his make shift mask, Ayana could see the smile in his eyes. She, like everyone else who spent time with the typically surly crime fighter and learned how to read his expressions despite the disguise.

"I have a perfectly good couch in my office." he told her, then realizing that he had come across too strong quickly added, "I promise to get some sleep, after a shower if you don't mind."

Sigma stood up and headed toward the east side of the base. When he was half way down the hallway he looked back over his shoulder and joked, "You know my back could use a good washing."



Wraith finished changing back to Devon Gale in the back of his mini-van, the tinted windows offering the privacy he required for the lengthly change. Truth be told it was the only reason why he purchased the vehicle. He then dematerialized and reappeared in the vacant room where he had left his wallet, PDA and other metal items that would prevent him from assuming his wind form.

Devon checked the time. Almost an hour had elapsed since he literally vanished, not the greatest thing to do on his first day but duty had called, not that he could explain that to his new boss.

Back in his lab, he threw on his white coat and slipped into the room. Krystal was diligently working away and paid little attention to his entrance. Maybe she didn't notice the time? Considered Devon, she seemed to be concentrated on her work and if she was anything like him time ceased to exist when he was focused on a task.


"Doctor Reinhardt was looking for you?" Krystal mentioned as she walked past him carrying a sample tray to the fridge.

"Oh... really?" Devon stammered.

"Don't worry. I covered for ya." She explained, offering a small smile are her otherwise expressionless face.

Devon gave a silent sight of relief and smiled back at his new partner. "I owe you one." he told her.

"I'm keeping a tab." She quipped back.


Damien spun his knife and snatched it out of the air. "Ah... I knew you were a businessman." he mentioned while shaking his knife at Grey, "How does fifty thousand sound? I can arrange for the money to be transferred to an account anywhere you would like."

Vallens was delighted that Grey had chosen to consider his offer. While is face did not betray his fear, he was worried about this meta-human assassin. The way he moved, and his ability to nullify his weapons had planted some doubt in the hit man's mind of whether or not he could actually beat this one. No matter worrying about that anymore, however. They were negotiating and Damien was sure they could arrive at a number the meta-human would be satisfied with.

Morgan called her Aunt Jackie when the 3 of them stopped to fill up with gas and got the ass chewing of a life-time.

"Morgan!!! How could you be so...so.....idotic!! You needed to give Tim time, you knew that!! And, you were supposed to stay with him!! You have got to fix this, Morgan. I can't believe you just let him walk away. You head south, right now!! I can't believe you!! Where is your brain!! You find him and don't you be an idiot like this again! If you were a burden to him, something tells me that Tim would have told you!! Now go find him and fix it!! Before it's too late. There is one that is chasing you that holds your father's essence within her. Tim is the one you need to keep her from using you. Dammit!! I do not believe that you did this!! Go find him...NOW!! FIX THIS!!"

Sighing, Morgan knew that her aunt was right. She'd screwed up....again. She'd let the one person she could rely on walk away from her and it was her own fault.

~I have to pull myself together. I have to start believing in myself and in Tim...in what was forming between us, if I haven't totally destroyed it.~

Once Allie and Mikaela got back into the car, she told them what had transpired between her and her aunt. Both women smiled at her, then started giggling.

"We've been heading south, Morgan. Didn't you notice? We've been following Tim for the past 50 miles once Mikaela got a fix on him. And you're Aunt's right. You HAVE to trust in yourself and in Tim. He has feelings you, Morgan and a lot of responsibilities. That means that you have to learn to stand next to him, not rely on him to always be there to hold you up."

*********************

About 30 miles north of the 3 women was an old Buick with a black eyed woman at the wheel. Sasha could feel Morgan and knew that she was on the right track. The voice inside of her head was soothing and harsh, at the same time, but it also gave her strength to keep going.

Grey remained still, working to keep the tension out of his demeanor. The pressure of the situation wasn't helping. Still, he lowered his knife just a little, the lingering memory of the quoted number all but making him salivate.

"How soon would I get the money?" he asked. Vallens' expression only barely changed, the corner of his lip curling just slightly.

"Immediately if you agree," he replied smoothly. Grey said nothing, his expression unchanging as he slowly slide stepped around the desk, away from Vallens but so the computer screen was in sight.

"I wanna see," he said, then his words caught as he only barely held back a tic. "Lemme see it . . . go in . . . the money. Now." He watched Vallens' every minute movement carefully, watched as he began moving around on the computer, his own eyes trained cautiously on Grey. Grey gave him the information he'd gotten from the bank, which luckily he'd left without thinking in one of his many pockets. He then quickly snatched it back and took another step away from Vallens, holding the knife up. He watched as the enormous sum of money entered the account before raising his eyes directly to Vallens. A satisfied look of triumph sparkled in the man's eye as he turned to Grey and raised an eyebrow.

"So, we have a deal, then?" he asked smoothly. Grey let his demeanor relax, his own lip curling. Shifting his weight, he inclined his head to give him an acknowledging nod.

The knife whipped out with a flick of his wrist and sailed in one smooth, fast movement, directly at Vallens' throat.

Vallens had anticipated the assassin's treachery from the start. He didn't get to where he was today by letting his guard down but the manner in which Grey threw the knife was unexpected. It was the type of throw that sacrificed power for speed, but Grey's surreptitious attack lacked neither. The hit man spun around and blood splattered across the desktop as the deadly accurate throw found it's mark.

In one smooth motion, Vallens turned away from the knife and made some distance between he and Grey. Scavenger's razor sharp, well balanced blade grazed the man's throat and continued on to stick in the wall behind him and instinctively the hit man had moved to place himself between his opponent and the discarded weapon.

Holding his find double edged blade before him, Vallens touched his free hand to the wound and checked the amount blood that issued. A scratch, but from the neck it bled like a war wound.

"Well done, Mr. Pyre." Vallens complimented, "But did you think that I would just hand over fifty thousand dollars to a two-bit assassin such as yourself without affording myself some insurance?" He answered his own question before Grey could respond, "Of course not. In an hours time I will receive an email requesting a confirmation for the amount I just transferred to your account. Without my password those funds will be revoked. It's a security feature I have on all my accounts... one can never be too careful in our line of work."

Vallens lowered his head and grinned, savoring the moment no matter how brief it was for he knew that the real test was to come.

"You have natural talents, Mr. Pyre, but you're unpolished. I'll grant you that your enhanced abilities give you an advantage but you can't always depend on them, because what happens when you come across someone... just... like.... you."

Vallens leapt into the air toward Grey. It was an inhuman maneuver as he straddled his desk in one great stride, kicking off of it and propelling himself toward his opponent. He lead with a kick, trained on Grey's mid-section but this was not the target. Even as the front kick flew toward the man's abdomen, Vallens was bending down toward his leg in a demonstration of exceptional flexibility and balance. His body extended, he threw a vicious arcing attack to Grey's throat with the blade as his foot lead the way.

It was immediately apparent that this man possessed a heightened agility, although whether or not it was truly enhanced via a mutation was debatable. All Grey, knew was that he was fast and his fluid fighting style appeared to be Chinese.

Watching the kick coming, Grey easily blocked it. However, it was his reflexes that would save him from the blade. The glimmer caught his eye and in one quick jerking motion, he dodged to the side, the blade grazing him across the neck, just barely breaking flesh. Pivoting to the side, Grey backed up a couple of yards before he slapped a hand to his neck and quickly looked down at it. Seeing only the streak of blood across his hands, as opposed to gushing, he dismissed it and stared hard at Vallens. Unfortunately, the shock had caused him to lose some control over his tics, opening the floodgates. It was hard to focus on the man when Grey's head involuntarily jerked and his face twitched.

He was fairy certain though, that the loud barrage of swears would at least take Vallens off-guard. Thinking quickly, Grey snatched a pen off of the desk and thrust it point first towards Vallens just as the first of his abrupt shouts erupted from him. Despite the ticking, Grey managed to get enough of a look at Vallens to aim for his throat.

As Grey broke into a fit of profanity and uncontrollable spasms, Vallens grinned. He had found his weakness and he would exploit it.

"Now we're even you stammering fool!" Vallens said slowly and calmly, putting a lot emphasis on the 'stammering' as he brushed his hand against his own cut neck in the manner of an obscene gesture.

Vallens moved to attack again amidst his opponent's fit, but despite what appeared to be a hindrance Grey was still very much in control. As he lunged forward, the pen sailed through the air with deadly accuracy but Vallens ducked down taking it on the skull, nicking his bald head. Unhindered by the small wound he continued with his attack, attempting to overwhelm his opponent with a series of rapid hand attacks and kicks, which were to quick to do serious damage unless his blade made contact.

He tried to force Grey up against the desk so that he would not be able to retreat, forcing him to block every blow. All it took was a few mistakes and the hit man could win this fight, but as Grey matched his speed he began to worry that he was wasting precious energy that we was not going to get back.

"You're dead, you babbling idiot!" Growled Vallens, in another attempt to spark some sort of seizure.

Grey had been in enough fights to know when his opponent was trying to back him up against a wall. He blocked several hits with fair accuracy, shifting his focus as best he could to the fight and slowly quelling the tics. As Vallens came towards him, Grey pushed back, taking a few hits to the sides before he thrust his knee upward aiming for Vallens' groin. He then reached out for the knife, hoping to snatch it away or else break the wrist attached to it.

It was never easy to force the seal back once it had been broken. Grey pressed his lips firmly together as he stared down his opponent, the twinge in his muscles only manifesting as slight eye twitches with the effort of keeping them back. He could practically see his movements in his mind, even has he moved with inhuman speed. He saw himself snatching the knife away and ripping it quickly across Vallens' midsection before delivering the final blow to the man's jugular.

First things first. He had to simply shift the balance of power back to his side. The hits Grey took didn't slow him down. It would take more than a few bruises to distract the seasoned thug. It was also clear that Vallens didn't quite understand Grey's condition as the words were hardly anything he'd never heard before. Still, he couldn't stop the distant memories they triggered of shouts from people around him and the memories built, albeit slightly, on the already explosive pressure that was simmering within him. He had to finish this and fast.

Vallens threw a quick left to Grey's ribs and followed through with a slash that just missed his opponent's face. He smashed him in the ribs again and this time he concentrated his blade on the man's abdomen but as he thrust his knife forward Grey's knee unexpectedly came up. It was a chance occurrence and one that Vallen's didn't anticipate as his hand was hit squarely by Grey's rising knee. There was the sound of a snap, and Vallens growled loudly as his wrist obviously broke.

As his hand went limp the impact from the blow drove the knife into the air. It spiraled upward between the two men, moving too fast for Vallen's eyes to track but he had to regain his weapon.

As Grey's leg quickly recoiled, the hit man's left (uncrippled) hand tried to snatch the spinning blade out of the air. Was he truly faster than this punk? He had to be, but the knife was rotating so quickly he didn't know whether or not he was going to wind up grabbing the blade, but what other choice did he have?

For insurance he also threw a powerful kick toward Grey's thigh with his left leg. The conditioned shin bone could deliver a numbing blow if it made contact but his opponent had the upper hand. The hit man's eyes were wide and he feared that this could be the end of his illustrious career but he would go down fighting.

The day had gone by quickly at Genomorph Laboratories. Devon and Krystal had prepared all of their samples and test groups ahead of schedule, despite his disappearing act, and were able to knock off early. Thankfully Doctor Reinhardt wasn't the type of employer who counted seconds, he was all about the work and he was already impressed with Devon's efficiency in the lab and how well he worked along his new co-worker. Working toward time-off was far more rewarding than bonuses in Devon's books and he was looking forward to getting home and having relaxing bath then a long nap, before a little night reconnaissance.

Devon made his way to the stairwell, but then noticed that one of the elevators had just spontaneously arrived at their floor with no passengers on it. The reason he chose to walk down was because he hated waiting and didn't much care to be trapped in a small space with strangers but why pass up the opportunity? Yawning he moved into the car and had just hit the main floor button when he heard some shouting and thought, 'great'.

"Hol it, hol it, hol it." Cried out Krystal as she ran down the aisle with her jacket half on, purse haphazardly thrown over her shoulder and an envelope in her teeth.

Devon held the door open button and awaited his fellow technician to enter and was not the least bit dissatisfied to stuck in a car with her.

"Thanks." Said Krystal after she took the envelope out of her mouth and tucked into her jacket, "I probably could waited for the next one, but I hate waiting."

Devon smiled. "I know exactly what you mean." he told her.

"So, you really did well today." She mentioned, "I have to be honest with you, but when you started moving things around I just thought you were going to turn out to be a control freak, but it really made a difference."

"Thanks. I've been around along enough to know the benefits of an efficient lab space, even been to a few seminars." Replied Devon.

Krystal shot him a curious look as the elevator doors opened, and lightly chuckled as she and Devon walked out into the main lobby. "You sound just like Doctor Reinhardt. Better be careful or you'll end up alone at the end of the bar, sipping a dry martini."

Devon couldn't help but laugh at the impersonation that accompanied her words. He didn't know Reinhardt well enough to appreciate her accuracy but the way she squinted her eyes and held a fake glass to her lips was very cute. She would no doubt flip if she ever found out that he and her stuffy supervisor were the same age and it was more the pity that her youthful zeal reminded him of it.

"So whatchya up to tonight, Doc?" she asked and when Devon shot her a curious look she clarified, "Sorry, I happened to take a peek at your resume when it was lying on Reinhardt's desk. My parent's nickname for me was, Snoopy if that explains anything."

Devon shook his head and smiled. "It's no bother and tonight..." he tried to think of something a thirty year old single guy with a regular life style would be doing. He certainly didn't want to say something as lame as 'going home for a nap'. "... I'm going to the gym."

Krystal nodded. "I figured you worked out. So what gym?"

"Holy crap." Thought Devon as she followed him out of the building and through the courtyard. She was full of questions, not that he really minded, if he had the answers. There was the gym that Bronze Devil's wife went to, but then he recalled that he was going to check the gym nearby his new place, called...

"Atlas Gym."

"Oh, on Wellington, I go there too. You'll love it."

They continued walking together for another block down Oakdale, Devon every now again catching a glimpse of his wife in the girl and allowing himself to enjoy it if only for a little while. She had been gone a long time, but a part of him would always compare all others to her. He knew it wasn't fair, but he had resigned himself to just being alone a long time ago, but this girl of only twenty-five was so much like Tatyana it almost frightened him.

"Well I guess this is where we part ways." Said Krysal as she continued on down Oakdale Avenue while Devon turned north up Sheridan Road, "See you tomorrow and maybe I'll see ya at the gym some time, but not tonight." She said with a deviant crinkle of her nose.

Devon thought of saying something smart back, but he was at a loss of words and just waved like some smitten school boy. Idiot! He really would have to enter this in his journal which was actually a personal study of his own design. It was a contrast of the effects of his longevity gene on his maturity, a comparison to his own self image versus his actual age. Now that he was over twenty years what he appeared to be he had found that he was finally feeling its effects.

When Devon got home he hardly felt like having a nap anymore and so going to the gym seemed to be just what he needed to relax. It was only 3:30 in the afternoon, so he took some time make himself a snack and do the dishes, then he packed his bag and walked over to Atlas Gym which was only a few blocks west of his place. Hopefully the gym would have few nooks with some privacy so he could do some real heavy lifting once in a while, of course he'd have to check out the camera system to ensure his anonymity.

The gym was near by a bicycle shop called Johnny Sprockets, just off of Broadway. The smell of food hung heavy in the air from the many restaurants in the area forced out of existence by the stale air of the gym as Devon entered Atlas.

He couldn't believe how much bloody information he had to enter for their contract and by the time he had finished he felt like he had just handed over his life story to the perky blonde at the front counter. At least he could finally hit the weights and when the girl even started to make mention of her giving him a quick tour, he raised his hand and stopped her cold.

"Thanks, I'll be just fine." he told her, but wanted to say, "I can pick up a car."

Devon emerged from the locker room in a heavy sweat shirt and sweat pants which made him look overly bulky but that's just the illusion he wanted to portray. He sure as hell wasn't trying to impress anyone and the less attention he drew to himself the better.

The gym was large, and in a back room even had a ring and punching bags but he was a little let down when he saw the people using them. It was hardly a fighter's gym and the area was filled with woman throwing dainty dancers kicks and men more concerned with looking good when they sparred. Not exactly the place for him, one light punch and he crush one of those cup cakes but he wasn't there to box and the gym had plenty of weights that he could use. He lifted within the normal parameters of 'strong man' but even though he didn't do anything to draw attention there were still a few budding strength-trainers who took some time to watch him work out. A few took the time to inquire about his diet, making the usual gym small talk, and Devon responded with the usual stuff he had read in 'muscle magazines'.

Devon changed quickly and started home for a shower. He was feeling quite pleased with himself and the beginning of his normal life when right in front of him the unthinkable happened. The woman in the LuLu Lemon outfit in front of him was knocked down and her purse snatched by a young hoodlum.

He could see that the woman was just fine. She'd more traumatized by the thought of the event than anything, but looking around he could see that no one else was stepping up to take this punk down. He sprinted down an alley than ran north along Johnny Sprockets and not being able to contain himself, Devon dropped his bag in front of the gym and gave chase, his one stride equal to two of the thief's. It didn't take long for him to catch up to the kid in a parking lot behind one of the restaurants. He hurdled over the hood of a car, and grabbed the scrawny guy by the neck and squeezed with his vice like grip. The kid screamed and crumbled to the ground, but then whipped a switch blade out of his pants and swung it around behind him.

As the blade lashed out at his arm, Devon instinctively let go but kept his foot on the purses strap as the kid stood up. As he spun away, flailing the knife wildly the strap was pulled out of his grasp and he suddenly had nothing to show for his efforts.

"Gimme it!" He screamed, menacing the large man with his blade, but his display didn't have the desired effect that he was used to receiving. Devon just stood their, stone faced, waiting for the kid to attack.

The kid danced around with a cocky expression on his face, getting closer and closer until he was ready to attack.

"On the ground now!" Screamed a commanding voice from behind Devon and the kid immediately dropped the knife and assumed the position.

A large, balding man came rushing past Devon with a gun drawn.

"F&%$ing Pig!" Growled the kid as the man pressed his knee against the back of his neck and proceeded to cuff him, while he recited to the kid his rights and what he was being arrested for. Then he hauled him up, dragged him over to wall and told him to sit down while he called in a squad car to pick him up.

Devon really did pay much attention to what the off duty cop was saying, he just wanted to get home and not have to make any court appearances if possible.

"All right if I get out here." Asked Devon when the officer was done calling for a car.

"Yeah, sure. Just let me have your name and number in case they need a statement." Said the cop.

Devon complied. He had pen and paper on him and wrote down his contact information.

"You know I pegged you for being another one of those candy asses." Mentioned the cop in his growly voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Back at the gym." Clarified the cop, "I saw ya workin' out and just figured you for another glamour boy, but you can obviously handle yourself."

"I did a little boxing." Said Devon.

"Thought so. Say, I'm new here, just moved into an apartment not too far away. What say you and I do some sparring, I can use a work out partner who doesn't faint at the sight of their own blood."

Devon couldn't believe his luck. A cop. He had to decline not just because the guy was one the other team so-to-speak, but also because he could expose himself if things got out of hand. "Well, I...."

"No need to answer right now," interrupted the cop, "when we run into each other at the gym we'll jump in the ring if your up for it..." he looked at the piece paper with contact information on it, "... Devon."

He then stuck his hand out. "Pleased to meet you."

Devon gripped the man's hand. "And you are?"

"Simon Henkel. Special Agent Simon Henkel."

The kick to his thigh made Grey buckle but he had enough wits about him to reach up with the other hand. Unfortunately, it meant exposing his ribs to Vallens and the hit man took the opportunity, giving him a hard elbow to the floating ribs just as Grey's hand closed around the handle of the blade. Though he grunted in pain, he was already in motion and in one quick movement ripped the blade straight across Vallens' throat. A wet, choking noise sputtered out of him as he coughed blood straight into Grey's face.

Everything fell strangely silent, hanging thick over Grey's ears as he watched Vallens go limp and then fall backwards, blood streaming from his neck and pooling on the floor before his body even splashed into it. At this, Grey let himself stumble back, grabbing hold of the edge of the desk before his his throbbing and strangely numb leg could drop him to the floor. Favoring his other leg, Grey managed to take back his balance and looked down at Vallens choking on the floor. He then limped over and dropped painfully onto his throbbing leg to plunge the knife into the man's chest, finishing the job.

Grey took a moment to force a few deep breaths into himself before he got arduously to his feet, taking the knife with him. Using a piece of paper from the desk, he crudely wiped the blood and tissue off of the knife before taking it with him when he limped out of the room. He hated this close-in fighting shit. This was why he preferred to be in the next building over with a sniper rifle. He sighed and shook his head before looking up and nearly falling back to the ground in shock.

"What the f$*&?" he choked out breathlessly as he looked Scavenger up and down. Scav simply shrugged.

"He missed," he said. For a moment Grey simply stared at him, trying to work the faint memories of seeing Scavenger get killed over in his mind. The shifted focus however almost opened the floodgates and with one facial tic, he forced the thoughts away and dug into his pocket. Pulling out his car keys, he shoved them wordlessly into Scavenger's hand before limping down the hall where he retrieved his gun. Getting out of here was going to be fun with whatever the hell that bastard had done to his leg.

Checking his ammo, Grey stowed the knife and kept his gun out. He then led the way, limping over to an elevator before raising his gun at the doors. When they opened to an empty car, he limped silently inside and pushed a button. All the while, the hitman's eyes were trained on the doors, as though expecting someone to jump out at them even between floors. When the doors opened again, however, they were met only with the front door. Easily disabling the lock, Grey limped ahead and shoved the doors open spilling them out into the cold night. Scavenger trailed behind him, silently having noticed the look of tension on his partner's face.

When they reached the car, Grey dropped himself into the passenger seat and finally let go. The mission had been long and harder than he'd expected. There was only so long he could hold everything back. As he shouted, muttered, and twitched, he somehow managed to dig into his pockets while Scavenger wordlessly started the car. In between tics, Grey downed a clonadine and a couple of Vicodin before lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.

Tim, turned the black Harley-Davidson 1200 CC Sportster off I-55 at the Sharewood exit and headed west on US 52 . Keeping the motorcycle within the posted speed limit, to avoid any undo attention to himself, Tim continued west to Illinois State Highway 251 then turned south to Orgesby, then west on Illinois 71 to Hennepin. He then turned south on Illinois 26 west across Lake DaPue at Henry, Illinois. He continued on state and county roads west across Illinois, then turned southwest until he reached Nekoma, Illinois. Tim then turned onto Illinois 167, through Galesburg then west and crossed the Mississippi River at Burlington, Iowa. After stopping to fuel up and grab a cheeseburger and fries, Tim headed west across Iowa on US 34 towards Ottumwa, Iowa. He stopped at a small road side motel called, The Iownian and obtained a room for some rest. Paying in cash for one night, Tim parked the motorcycle outside his room, wrapping a chain and lock through the spokes of the front wheel and the frame. Grabbing his nap sack and weapons from the saddle bags, Tim went into the small room, locked the door and fell on the double bed. Within a few minutes, he was in a light sleep.

Morgan, Allie and Mikayla reached a motel in about an hour. Morgan was still somewhat shaky, but recovering nicely now that she was away from the bug lady. Allie got two rooms, one for herself and one that Mikayla and Morgan would share.
Settling in, Morgan took one bed while Mikayla took the other and Allie was in her own room. All three settled in for the night, not knowing that Sasha was close behind them.


Sasha pulled the old Buick into the motel parking lot and stared at the room where she knew Morgan was. She could already feel her energy building back up and an eerie smile split her face. Her eyes turning dark she called on spiders to invade the room, sending them to the sleeping body in the bed. She didn't know that Mikayla was in the room with Morgan. As she quietly got out of her car, she laughed, hearing Morgan's screams as she woke find spiders crawling all over her. Kicking the door open, she called the eight-legged creatures off and stood in the doorway, staring at Morgan.

"Thought you could get away, didn't you, demon? But, I can track you or did you forget about that?"

Sasha approached Morgan just Allie came flying through the door, tackling the woman to the floor. Sasha, though, was growing in strength being this close to Morgan and elbowed Allie in the face, knocking the girl unconcious. Next, was Mikayla, flying at Sasha only to be caught in mid-air and thrown up against the wall.

Turning her head to look at Morgan who was off of the bed, her black eyes flickered to blue then back to black again. Morgan could now see her father inside that face and it terrified her. Her eyes glowing purple, she called on stray cats to come, sending the felines to attack Sasha. She watched as the cats attacked, claws extended leaving deep scratches on Sasha's face and ripping through her clothes.


"I AM DONE BEING THE VICTIM!! I AM THROUGH THINKING I'M BURDEN WHEN I'M NOT!!! AND I AM SICK OF SCREWING THINGS UP BECAUSE OF HOW YOU MADE ME FEEL MY WHOLE LIFE!!! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, DADDY AND I....WILL.....NOT.....LET.....YOU.....HURT....ME ANYMORE!!!!"

Sasha fought the cats and for every scratch she obtained, Morgan felt the sting of it, but she held strong her eyes glowing. And for once, her eyes were hard......like lavender shards of ice. She had no idea if destroying Sasha would cause her harm or not, but she was past caring. She'd messed things up with Tim and didn't know if she could make them right again...all because she couldn't get by her past. NO MORE!! It was time to grow up and stand on her own.

When the spiders came again, she faltered....allowing Sasha a reprieve from the cats as she screamed in rage and fear at the eight legged creatures crawling on her. When she looked up, she saw Sasha standing right in front of her. She mouthed the words 'forgive me' and 'I'm sorry' right before Sasha attacked, throwing Morgan into the wall next to Mikayla. Morgan hit with a sickening thud, cracking the plaster as she slid to the carpet. Getting to her knees, she saw Sasha walking up to her and tried to get to her feet before she reached her.

Sitting behind the wheel of the car, Scavenger inspected his blade from behind his dark sunglasses. He had retrieved it from the wall before they left and noted how little blood was on it compared to the amount on Grey. As a knife fighter he was able to envision the battle and knew that somehow, Grey had managed to disarm the professional assassin and use his own blade against him. A story he may yet hear when his partner was in a more relaxed mood.

An impatient glare from Grey prompted Stefan to put the blade away and start the car. They drove away from the scene of Damien Vallens' demise with no further altercations as if they dared not attempt take revenge on his vanquisher for fear of facing the same fate. Little did they realize just how sore Grey was but Stefan was confident he could still take on any of Vallens' henchmen if he had to... with his help of course.

As they drove down the street, Stefan wasn't sure to bother Grey for any directions. He had the map, and he wasn't really sure where to head next. Finally after driving for ten minutes he finally worked up the courage to speak his mind.

"So, ah.... you.... you look like shit, man. We can't go walking around looking for the other locations on that map with you looking like *&$%ing Texas Chainsaw Massacre. We need to get you cleaned up."

A tic knocked Grey's head against the window not for the first time and he groaned in quiet frustration before taking a long drag on his cigarette. When Stefan spoke up, he peered over at him quizzically at first, then touched the side of his face, suddenly aware of the blood splattered all over him. Reaching up, Grey nonchalantly pulled the mirror down from the visor and inspected himself. Upon seeing his reflection, he ended up shouting "DIE! DIE! F$&#ER!" before he could get a good look, but the involuntary shouts were an instant clue to what he looked like. Vallens' blood was still dripping from his face with a clear streak around his eyes and mouth where he apparently wiped it away at one point. His own blood still dripped down his neck and had completely soaked the collar of his shirt.

Lifting up his shirt, he wiped his face off on it figuring it was already ruined, but there still remained some drying on his skin and in his hair. He could also feel the bruises forming on his arms where he'd blocked the hits and on his sides where he hadn't. His ribs were throbbing from where Vallens had hit him just before Grey killed him.

"Just find a motel or somethin'," he grunted finally, taking another long drag on the cigarette. He then reached into his pocket and popped another Vicodin before leaning back in the seat and letting the chemicals finally soak into him.

Devon's eyes widened slightly when he learned that Simon was F.B.I., a reaction that Henkel was used to.

"Did ya think I was cop or something?" Asked Henkel, smiling as he could already read the answer to his question on Devon's face.

"Hey, as long as you're not wanted for any federal offenses or," he looked over at the cuffed kid, "stupid enough to snatch a purse in front of me, your safe." Henkel then laughed at his own joke and Devon forced a laugh of his own, although he found nothing funny about the truth of the situation.

A squad car pulled up. "Christ. They're early, how 'bout that?" commented Henkel as he flashed his badge and walked over to talk with them.

Devon just wanted to get home, but it wouldn't look good if he snuck away now so he waited for Henkel to finish giving his statement to the cops.

"Thanks for waiting." Said Henkel as he swaggered over. "Say, you wanna grab a beer? There's a great place just over there." Henkel thumbed in the direction of bar called Friar Tucks on the other side of Broadway.

Devon started to shake his head, "I don't know it's..." he couldn't say late and by the time he thought of good excuse Henkel had already interjected.

"Com'on, it's on me."

He was still reluctant, but Henkel just slapped him on the shoulder and gave him a jostling shove. "One beer and if I still stink after that you're free to go."

The agent was definitely candid, a quality that Devon actually admired for he never had the courage himself to be so forward and open with people. Maybe a beer or two wouldn't be so bad after all.

Tim awoke suddenly when he heard the disturbance from the next room. Quickly gathering his knapsack and weapons, he stepped cautiously out, unchained the motorcycle, placed his weapons and knapsack in the saddle bags and rolled the Harley out of the parking lot and down the highway. After he was several hundred feet away from the motel, he pushed the mortorcycle down a hill on the highway, jumped on and jumpstarted the Harley. He quickly headed west out of Otummwa and across Iowa towards Nebraska.

Allie got to her feet, her nose set at a crooked angle when she saw Morgan slam into the wall and Sasha walking towards her prone form. Careful not to set the room on fire, she created a small fire ball in her hand and shot it at the black eyed woman, hitting her in the back. The smell of scorched clothes and skin filled the room as Sasha let out an ungodly scream, turning to face Allie.

The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance and the owner of the motel was shouting obcentities at them, but staying a good distance away. Others had come out of their rooms to see what the commotion was and thanks to what was going on with the female metas, noone noticed Tim leaving.

"This doesn't concern you, fire bitch!! It's between me and animal girl."

Allie found herself covered in a swarm of spiders, all but driving her insane with the fear of creepy crawly things. Morgan looked up and her lavender eyes glowing again, called to the bats in the area. Hundreds of them flew into the room, not all of them fitting. She directed some of them to begin to snatch the spiders off of Allie and the others she had attack Sasha.

Sasha was a mass of bites and scratches from the cats and now the bats and she was livid. Upon hearing the sirens getting closer, the black eyed woman ran out of the room, screaming and waving her arms to get the bats off of her as she climbed into the old buick and took off.

Mikayla and Allie helped Morgan get to her feet and they too left the room, climbing into the Charger. Allie sped out of the parking lot heading south-west. After a few hours, they stopped at a rest area to get their bearings, relieve themselves and clean up. It was time to decide what they were going to do as they now knew that Sasha could track Morgan. Allie took out her phone, finding Wraith's number she punched it and got his voice mail.

"Wraith, it's Allie....Fire Angel.....Morgan is with me and Mikayla as I'm sure you know but we just had a run in with Sasha. Apparantly she can track Morgan and something weird happened while we fighting the bug lady. Morgan called her 'Daddy' and Sasha called Morgan a demon. Call me back and give me some advice big guy. I'm not real sure as what to do at this point. Oh, and Sasha and Morgan had it out....calling on spiders, cats, and bats. Not something I'd particularly like to repeat. Especially the spider thing. Call me."

She hung up and glanced back at Morgan who seemed to be doing fine. In fact, she even seemed a little stronger....more determined. She just hoped that it lasted. The girl had to begin to stand on her own if she was going to get through this. She knew that Mikayla felt the same way. She pulled the car into a shadowed area, thanking her father for getting the car in black and not white as it blended in with the shadows. She told the other two to get some rest and decided to wait as long as she could for Wraith to call her back.

Morgan sat in the back seat of Allie's charger, thinking on her next course of action. Heading south was probably not the best idea as she needed to be around friends and family. People who would help her when Sasha showed up again, which she knew she would.

"Allie, once Wraith calls back, I need for you to take me to the reservation if you would. If not, then I will get a hold of Aunt Jackie and get some money for a bus ticket."

Allie looked at Mikayla then back to Morgan and nodded her head.

"You sure about this? This is what you want?"

"Yea, Allie, it's what I want and need. I can't and won't chase Tim all over tarnation, that is just beneath me. He knows where the reservation is and who my aunt is, sort of. I have screwed up from day one, so he needs his space.....and, well....maybe I do, too. Besides, Aunt Jackie can protect me from the bug lady. Unless Wraith knows how to fix it. Then, I'll go back to Chicago so he can do whatever it is he does. Afterwards, I can still go back home."