HEROES Chapter 8

"Sorry to wake you." Devon apologized, "I didn't think you had fallen that fast asleep." He glanced over at the shopping bags reminded of his purchases by her question, "Oh, I picked you up a few things. I wasn't sure how light you packed. It's a dress suit, high heels and a few other things. They're just in case we might have the dress the part, y'know. Anyway, that's what I meant; it's safer to be deceptive rather than rely on our abilities all the time, and on that note, I think we might be able to use some of your talents in a covert manner. Best we cross that bridge when we come to it though." He smiled reassuringly, "Get back to sleep. I'm gonna a nod off too. I need some rest to clear out the cobwebs."


It was three hours later when both Devon and Morgan began to stir, both surprised that they had napped for so long. It was now close to supper time, and as Wraith sluggishly rose he realized that he could use a snack to two.

"Holy crap!" Exclaimed Devon looking at the time as he ran his fingers through his thick white blonde hair, "Guess all that activity took a little more out of us than we thought, eh?"

The tall man stood up and stretched, rolling his neck and rotating his shoulders. "Look, I'm gonna grab a shower. Why don't you get ready, Morgan. We'll head out and grab a bite, eh? See what this city has to offer. Over dinner we'll figure out the best way to approach, Jacobson."

Devon picked up one of the shopping bags and made his way to the bathroom. Before entering he pointed at another door beside the entrance to the room. "There's another bathroom over there in case you didn't notice. It's a half-bath." he informed her, then slipped in and closed the door.

Morgan grabbed the bag, wondering if she should wear what he'd bought or what she had. She grabbed her bag as well and went to the half bath, deciding on what he'd bought. She'd never in her life worn anything nice like this, but she loved the color. It was a deep purple with black stripes, a matching silk blouse and the heels were just right with about 3 inch heels. She brushed her hair until it glistened then grabbed her makeup bag, meager as it was and did up her face. Next, she took her Native American large hair clip and pulled back the sides of her hair, clipping them in the back. She looked at herself in the mirror, deciding it would have to do and walked back out to wait for Devon.

Stubby tried to focus as he stared up through with bloody, swelled eyes. His face showed the cuts and bruises of a severe beating and as he choked back his own blood, spat back to his assailants once more, "@#$% YOU!"

The three bikers looked down at the kneeling man with disbelief. How much more could the old guy take? He was stalling for time, and the bikers knew it, which is why they were becoming all the more impatient with each blow. They couldn't knock him out, since then he wouldn't be telling them anything, so they had to hold back their punches and kicks.

"Okay, old man, one last chance. Where's the %^&*ing prick that stole our shipment? WHERE IS HE!"

Stubby pulled himself up and leaned against the wall of his garage. The bastards had ambushed him, but he knew that eventually someone was going to come looking for him so he just had to hold a little longer. He could take whatever these jokers could dish out, so long as they focused on him, unfortunately that soon changed.

"Give it up man." Said one of the bikers, "He ain't gonna talk." He then bent down and grabbed Stubby's face, "Are ya now? No, you're a tough guy. Well, now 'tough guy', how's about we go and someone who's a little more cooperative? What's say, we go into your restaurant and grab us that fine little waitress you got working for ya. Maybe she can convince you."

The biker gestured to the other two to head out the door and that's when Stubby gave in. He had to; there was no doubt in his mind that they go through with what they said, and Roy wasn't back yet. "Okay, okay... &$%^ing dickless son's-a-bitches... I'll tell ya. Look..." he gasped, "... all I know, is that the big guy, you're looking for is staying at the Embassy Suites Hotel in Lubbock."

The biker who had pressed, Stubby grinned at the others. "See, all he needed was a little persuasion. Now, old man, what name?"

Stubby grit his teeth. He wanted to tell them where to go, but he had no choice. He remembered though the way, Devon fought and hoped that he would fare better against these clowns than he did. "Steven Moore."

The biker slapped, Stubby's face and smiled. "You see, that wasn't so hard now was it? Let's go boys."

"What about him?"

The biker's stopped and considered Stubby for a moment, the decided that he was a threat and realized they had to get rid of him. One of them raised a gun, but the smarter of the three stopped the man. "No bullets. Tie him up and toss him in the dune buggy."

They tied up Stubby with duct tape and stuck him in his dune buggy then preceded to dowse the garage with gasoline. As they exited, the last biker lit himself a cigarette took a long drag and flicked the smoke onto the floor. In moments the inside of the garage was a blaze, and black smoke was quickly filling the air. Stubby struggled to free himself to no avail, and was already beginning to choke from smoke inhalation but that was the least of his worries as the fire crept toward his acetylene tanks. They were already heating up, and a few more minutes they would blow the garage sky high and killing Stubby along with it.



Devon emerged soon after, sporting a black designer suit, the cut almost perfectly tapered to his tall form and broad shoulders. He was about to check his look in the mirror, when he caught site of Morgan and couldn't help but stare for a while. It wasn't like him to gawk, in fact he considered himself somewhat of prude and was normally more disciplined but the girl's transformation was absolutely stunning.

"Apologies." he bid her through a throat dried of dropped jaw, then made of aware of his prolonged stare by his choked word, tore his eyes away, promptly turning around to check the fit of his new suit in the mirror.

He was somewhat embarrassed by the innocent gaze, though it didn't show. Wraith, often hid his feelings, and felt... well, exposed, even by the smallest slips.

"You're not going to believe this, but I picked this suit up as is. It was tailored for some wrestler, who's name eludes me, and he decided not to take it after it was altered. The salesman saw dollar signs when I walked in the door. Not bad, eh?" he mentioned as he admired the cut of the suit on his hard to fit physique.

Devon turned around, then and faced Morgan. "You look very lovely." he complimented in a formal fashion, so as not offer any impressions which might be misinterpreted, "That dress was made for you. You know, I used to pick out clothes for my wife all the time, she told me I had a good eye for fashion and it's not very often I mess up on a size."

Wraith made it seem like he had some natural talent, but the truth was that he had been taught to precisely, physically assess people by Beacon. It was part of the agencies training program, and he just happened to excel it a little more than most. He did recall, that he was one of the only agents who took that part of the training seriously, most referred to it as 'runway reconnaissance', but he believed it was a valuable skill.

"Shall we?" Devon gestured to the door and as they stepped out he mentioned, "Oh, you're driving by the way. As much fun as the Harley was, I had to ditch it and my rental, well.... it's kinda boring." His face then lit up with bright boyish smile.

Morgan beamed beneath Devon's praise, blushing a little as well. She had admired him beneath lowered lashes, noticing how well he looked in the suit. She knew that someone like him would never be attracted to someone like her, but she appreciated the praise none the less. When he mentioned that she would be driving, she pulled the keys out of the little black purse he'd bought for her and handed them to him. "I may be able to walk in these, Devon.....I mean Steven.....but I'm not used to heels. It's fully insured to cover any who drives her so, please, you drive. I don't mind."



She hoped that he would approve of her car as well. The black Camaro was sleek, fully loaded with leather interior and fast.

As Tim drove through the night taking him and Yelena as far away from the mess as he could, Yelena was ever vigilant and kept looking over her shoulder for anything that would be pursuing them. Even as Tim drove slowly through the herd of cattle pointing out the new calves, Yelena couldn’t quite relax. Even though the sight of the new life did make her smile softly.

Yelena knew her old friend would have the means necessary for an escape that would allow them to remain underground, so to speak. But she didn’t expect it to be quite the nice accommodations as the Trident. As she took over behind the wheel so Tim could get all the gates and door open for them, she let her gaze sweep over the property and admitted she liked this better than the line cabin.

As she drove the jeep down the ramp into barn, she looked all around and saw how Tim had everything camouflaged very well. Once the jeep was parked, she cut the engine and slowly slid out of the drivers side looking around. AS Tim joined her, Yelena was about to say something when the floor began to rise. Knowing her old friend was known for his innovative ways of concealing things, this should have come as no surprise to her but it did. Once the initial shock had passed, she watched the barn come into sight as the lights came on and saw the work benches with the different shapes beneath the tarp. But that wasn’t all she saw covered with tarps. She instantly recognized the other things, taking particular interest in the motorcycle. Finally she looked over at him with a genuine smile and a slight twinkle in her eye.

”Just like old times, yes?”

Once more her eyes took in her surroundings as she moved away from the jeep to the work benches and desk to get a feel for the place.

”Reminds me of when we take down Russian mob for human trafficking. I was wondering what happened to old equipment. Perhaps I see some old, familiar thing?”

Tim smiled "Yep I reckon ya jus' might. Was able ta save near all tha stuff, an what I couldn't I replaced and upgraded with the help of a right smart kid. Ya might find a perticlur old friend under that thar tarp." Tim said as he pointed towards the tarp covered motorcycle. As he began to remove the tarps from the workbenches, the sound of a shot gun being cocked could be heard. Timcrouched and spun around drawing both M&P 40 caliber semi automatic pistols from his shoulder holsters.
A boy of eighteen stepped out of the shadows with a sawed off shotgun at his shoulder. On the outside of his white t-shirt under a plaid western style button up shirt hung a pair of battered dogtags.

"Uncle Tim?" the boy said as he lowered the weapon.

"Damn boy! Ya wanna get yer damned fool ass shot?" Tim said as he holstered his weapons, then grinned.

"Jezuz 'H' Christ." Swore Sheriff Greer as he became certain that the black plume of smoke on the horizon was rising up from Arnett and he instantly threw an accusing glare at Mitchell. "God dammit, boy! What the hell did I tell you!"

As Roy pulled up round the back of the Jack Rabbit, his heart was pounding with fear. Stubby's private garage was a blaze, and the old codger was no where to be seen in the gather crowd. A small fire brigade was arriving on the scene just as he and the agent got out of the truck. The swung their fire engine, which was a converted irrigation truck, around and positioned it so that they could utilize their sprayer to its maximum efficiency, but the blaze was already so hot that there was no saving the building.

"Is anyone in there!" Shouted Greer, "Where in the hell is Stubby?"

His answer was clear as the dumbfounded crowd exchanged confused glances and so Roy ran head on into the fire and put his foot to the smoldering door. His first kick only rocked it, but then a second from agent Mitchell, knocked it off of its hinges and flames licked out into the open air.

"Stubby!" Called Greer as he placed a handkerchief over his mouth, "Stubby! Ya in here!"

Agent Mitchell didn't waste any time shouting, he crawled into the burning building searching for any signs of a fallen man.
He didn't go very far, before he could see Roy's friend Stubby, tied up in the passenger seat of the dune buggy.

Mitchell managed to choke out the words, "I found him." He then pressed on, the smoke stinging his eyes, the heat searing his skin. Mitchell wouldn't stop, this was his fault. If he had listened to the Sheriff his friend wouldn't be in this fix and he be damned if he let him die. Through blurry eyes he dragged himself along the floor, he was so close, but he could hardly stand the pain anymore. He reached up, into the blackness that was engulfing him, trying to take hold of the man, then the ground began to move beneath him. It felt like he sliding across a hot greased pan and when he came to, he realized that Greer had pulled him out of the fire.

Stubby was dead.

As agent Mitchell, laid back on a stretcher while one of the members of the fire brigade pumped oxygen through his mask, the heartbroken image of Sheriff Greer as he stared into the smoldering fire was forever etched into his mind. He had lost his best friend and there was nothing that the agent could do to make up for his murder. If they had been there a few minutes sooner, he was sure he could have gotten to the man, all he needed was just few stinking minutes to save the man's life, but time wasn't on their side that day.


Stubby had died only an hour before Morgan and Devon made their way to the parking garage. During that time, the bikers had fled the scene and called Barr, informing him of what the old man had told them. He praised them burning the man before he hung up then debated for a few moments what he should do. The mercenaries were still in Mexico and wouldn't arrive for at least a day, which left him with only one option if he wanted to act on the information while it was still hot. He had to rely, on one of their affiliate gangs, a band of little piss-ants they used for drug running and other errands the senior members couldn't be bothered with.

"Yes, sir." Answered a skinny white kid, sporting many gangland style tattoos. The phone had sounded the tell-tale tone of his master and he was instantly on his best behavior.

"Jinker. I gotta job fer ya." Announced Barr, "An' there'll be a promotion in it as well, if you do a good job."

Jinker's eyes widened greedily. "Yes, sir." he answered excitedly.

"There's a guy I want you and your boys to gift wrap for me. He's staying at the Embassy Suites Hotel, under the name Steven Moore. You got that?"

"Embassy Suites... Moore. Ya, I got ya."

"Good... and Jinker... I want him alive and anyone else he's got with him as well. Oh, and by the way, the guy's a Meta."

"A $%#@ing Meta?" Questioned the boy, apprehension in his tone.

"Yeah, you gotta problem with that." Growled Barr.

"No. No, sir. Consider it done."

"Good. Talk to ya tomorrow."

Barr, didn't think those sorry ass punks had snowball's chance in hell, but he figured they'd send a good message. All he wanted was to make sure the Meta stuck around until the mercenaries showed up, and Jinker's little street gang could at least do that.


The Camaro glistened in the dim lights of the under ground parking garage as the two approached it. Devon gave a reckless grin as he ran his hand across the sleek body of the car, then he tossed the keys into the air over his shoulder as he moved toward the passenger side door. As his fellow meta-human deftly caught his toss, he smiled and told her, "You're probably a better driver than I, but thanks for the offer."

Inside the car, he noticed that she had On-Star. "Would you mind?" he asked before hitting the button and requesting directions to some fine dining in Lubbock. A few suggestions were made, and he was quick to choose the one that sounded the most exotic.

"La Diosa Cellars, sounds good. Says, here it's also a winery." Devon relayed as he navigated through the map, "Lubbock has a perimeter road that circles the city they call 'the Loop', just head east along it and make a left, heading north on highway 27. Looks like there will probably be some exit to the Buddy Holly Center, just take that, the restaurant's only a few blocks away from it." he directed.

As Morgan pulled out of the underground parking garage, Devon looked over with that devilish grin. "Maybe you'll be able to open this baby up on the Loop."

Morgan grinned at him as she slid into the driver's seat, starting the engine as Devon played around with the On-Star until he found what he was looking for. When he mentioned a fancy restaurant she became a little apprehensive, worried that she would embarrass him. As she pulled out of the garage, his mention of her opening up her beloved Camaro on the loop had her relaxing some. The car had a superb engine with dual pipes and made that nice purring sound of a car made to handle speed.

As she drove, following the directions he'd given her she decided to put herself out there a little bit, "Devon...ummm....I've never been to the kind of restaurants you're used to and that we're going to. I don't want to be an embarrassment to you. I'm just saying that I may not do the right thing....eat with the right fork or something."

Once onto the loop, she grinned over at him, her lavender eyes twinkling. He hadn't replied to her comment yet, but she had a chance to open up her baby and she was going to take it. Punching it, they were going sixty, seventy, eighty, one hundred twenty.

As Morgan accelerated, and the other cars started to flash by them Devon smiled and eased back into the seat. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself, which to say the least was a little confusing for the girl. This wasn't the usual serious, Wraith, but a different person all together, or was this just an aspect of the man's personality she had yet to experience.

"The kind of restaurants, I'm used to?" Devon repeated in a questioning manner. He pondered the words for a moment then it occurred to him that she was referring to the whole, 'fancy dinner' thing. "Ah... think nothing of it." he reassured her, shaking his head, "Unless you're used to eating spaghetti with your hands, you don't have anything to worry about." He laughed then at his own little joke and turned his attention out his window to the red coloured chevy corvette racing along side of them.


Devon looked a little pensive at first as the corvette kept pace with them, then as the car swung closer he got a good look at the guy driving and he looked like a total jerk. The guy, a plump little man with a cheesy pencil line goatee looked over and smirked before punching it and pulling away from the camaro.

"What a Chach'." Commented Wraith, shaking his head disapprovingly. Then he looked over at Morgan, "So, you gonna take that from a guy who can't even grow a real mustache?"

She was relieved at his reply and it showed. The last thing she wanted to do was be an embarrassment for him when she saw the corvette pull up along side of them. At Wraith's question, she grinned, her eyes brightening...not with her abilities but with fun as she punched the gas, the dual pipes sounding like music as she quickly caught up with 'Fake Mustache'. As she pulled up next to him, she stayed with him, only to allow him to pull ahead of her. She waited until he was a good three car lengths ahead of her then punched it again, passing him within seconds, leaving him banging on his steering wheel.

She laughed.....a genuine laugh, "That was fantastic!!!" Too soon, she saw the exit they were supposed to take and slowed down accordingly to take it.

Devon lightheartedly nodded to the girl, joining her in celebration of her racing victory. It was nice to hear her laugh and let the burdens she carried slide off her shoulders if only for a short while. He too, needed some levity in his life and a night out was long over due, and how ironic that he would find some happiness sitting beside, of all people, Morgan Shepherd.

Taking the exit to the Buddy Holly Center, the sleek black Camaro glided down into the downtown area of Lubbock. The sun was now just beginning to set, painting the buildings with golden light and casting long dark shadows across the busy streets. As they cruised onward toward the restaurant, OnStar guided the girl the rest of the way while her tall companion stared quietly out the window. Watching the people pass by, he caught sight of himself in the side view mirror and searched for all the years that had passed within the thirty year old face. His angular features accentuated by the dusky shadows revealed nothing of his actual age but he could not easily discard all those layers of dust to reflect the radiance of the young woman beside him. The company, however, was very much appreciated and he hoped that he did not bore the girl too much. After all, women of her age should be out clubbing and toying with the minds of young men, not wasting their time with stuffy old men. The engagement, however, was a necessity as the young Meta-human required guidance if she were to be able to blend into society and survive. As much as he admired Tim and Yelena, he didn't believe that retreating away from the world would bring them peace. Blending in was the key, and if he could teach Morgan how to control her gifts, at least she would be able to choose whether or not she wanted to be a recluse.

"You have arrived at your destination." Announced the automated voice.

Morgan found a rock star parking spot in front of the restaurant, and as Devon stepped out of the car, she grabbed her purse, and reached for the door handle to follow. As she opened the door Morgan was alarmed by someone staring at her through the window. Focusing, she quickly realized that it was her own reflection and again it wasn't. It was her, but her hair was now pulled back, and her expression sullen. The scar, along the left side of her face seemed more prominent and the complexion of her other self was pale. The image stared back at her, then ever so slightly, one of the corner's of her mouth tugged up just before the door was pulled open. Devon had strolled around the car and politely opened the door, unknowingly dispelling what could have only been a hallucination.

"Wow. This is quite the place." Commented Devon as he and Morgan walked toward the entrance which was designed to appear as a charming garden archway, ringed with vines.

Inside the restaurant was stunning; everything was exquisitely modeled to appear as authentically Spanish as possible, there was even an fountain in the middle of the main room, but it was a statue of the god, Bacchus surrounded by Nymphs. Devon figured it probably had something to do with their winery.

"Do yu 'ave a reservation?" Asked the host in an heavy Spanish accent, his eyes curiously wandering from the tall, white haired Nordic gentleman then down to the pretty young woman whose descent was not as apparent as she could descend from many ethnicities. The one trait, however, that did stand out was her eyes, which when he looked into them quickly averted his gaze so as not to impolitely stare. The young man did not at all seem concerned by the unusual trait, attributing the colour to contact lenses or perhaps she had a form of albinism. Looking once again at her tall, pale haired boyfriend while measuring the width of his shoulders with his mind he could honestly say he had never seen a more memorable couple.

"Sorry no." Apologized Devon, "We're from out of town. Would you happen to have any tables available?"

The young man smiled and checked his book, his dark wavy hair spilling across his face as he lowered his head. He pushed back as he looked up and smiled once more, his teeth brightened by his dark complexion. "Right dis way please."

The host lead them to a secluded table, just at the edge of an outer courtyard, reminiscent of old Spain. He bid them a good meal, then called over their waiter, who had to have been his brother; a younger and even more handsome version cut from the same handsome mold.

"Good, evening. I'm Ricardo. Would you care to start with some wine?" He asked, his greyish green eyes twinkling with the enticing mischief of Bacchus himself.

"How could one refuse wine in such intoxicating ambience." Replied Devon.

"Very good." The waiter then went on to remind them both that La Diosa Cellars, was also a winery and offered many fine labels for them to choose from. He described their most popular vintages expertly, the details pouring off his tongue as delightfully as the wine no doubt tasted.

"Let's try the sangiovese." Devon had requested, looking to Morgan to politely include her in the decision. Then when all was settled, Ricardo promptly retreated to the kitchen and shortly returned with bottle, and some appetizers of cheese, bread, and basalmic vinegar in oil for dipping.

Indeed Devon seemed right home amidst the luxuries, but never once came across as being snobbish, in fact he was ever considerate making sure to guide, Mogan accordingly without drawing any undo attention.

Morgan kept thinking about what she saw in the driver's window of her car. She nodded at the proper times to Devon, and finally dismissed it as part of her sickness. She would tell Devon about it later, right now she was actually enjoying herself, which she found ironic. She'd never pictured herself a ritzy type, but then again, Devon looked the part but didn't act it and she appreciated that. She'd been nervous entering the restaurant, but now she was calm, thanks to Devon not treating her like she was an imbecile.

She didn't know what a sangiovese was as she smiled at Devon and nodded, "That sounds fine, Steven." Then the waiter returned with the and appetizers, filling their glasses after Devon sniffed the cork and nodded to Ricardo. After he poured the wine and left, she looked at the bread, cheese, and basalmic vinegar in oil and then looked up at Devon. She waited to see what Devon did and then mimicked him. She smiled at the taste of the bread, cheese and basalmic vinegar in oil. Using the manners she'd been taught, she laid the cloth napkin across her lap and did her best not to embarrass Devon. She watched what he did, which fork he used, etc. without seeming like she was watching him. Thing was, she was enjoying what she was learning and it showed in her face. She felt like a lady.....a true lady, not a 'demon' or 'freak'. She discreetly looked around and saw that noone really paid any attention to them. She was so used to being stared at because of her eyes that she stayed away from people. But, Devon was showing her how to blend in and she was absorbing it with a smile.

"What are we doing next, Steven?", she asked using his alias. She sipped her sangiovese, having noticed that it was a wine. Her eyes lit up at the taste, never having had a good wine before. She'd had a cheap wine before and swore to never have wine again, but with Devon, she knew he had good taste and was willing to try it again, finding it to her liking.

The American Airlines jet touched down at Dallas / Fort Worth airport on scheduel and taxied to the terminal gate. Nicolia Sadonavich rose from his seat and made his way down the aisle of the jet, out the jetway and to the baggage claim are where he picked up his bags and walked out to the curb and hailed a cab. The skyhop placed his bags in the trunk of the taxi and opened the door for Nicolia. The Russian agent handed the sky hop a ten dollar tip and slid into the back of the cab. The driver said "War ya wanna go thar pardner?" as he pulled away from the curb.

"We go to Hyatt Regency Dallas ... 300 Reunion Boolivard ..... Please." Nicolia said
The taxi driver said "Ya got it pardner." as the taxi drove through the rainy night on the John W. Carpenter Freeway towards Dallas.

Devon was about to answer when the waiter, Ricardo returned. "May a refill your glass for you, miss?" he asked reaching into the middle of the table for the bottle, and as he added just a little more wine to the young girl's cup he smiled, almost seductively at her.

Devon just grinned as the waiter continued on with his rounds. He knew that waiters usually waited until one's glass was actually empty before offering to replenish it, but Ricardo obviously had another agenda. "He likes you.", he mentioned as he raised his glass to his lips, gesturing for Morgan to take a look over her shoulder.

As the girl gave subtle look behind her, she noticed that Ricardo was glancing back as well, in fact he nearly entered the wrong door to the kitchen when he saw that Morgan turned to check him out, or at least that's what he believed.

"Ballsy." Commented Devon as he placed his large wine glass back down on the table, "For all he knows, we might be a couple and yet he still attempts to flirt. Must be love at first sight. Anyway, I don't mean to embarrass you, back to the matter at hand, Doctor Ephraim Jacobson. I was originally planning to confront the man tomorrow but after some more thought, I am now leaning toward a nightly visit. It shouldn't be hard to locate the man's lab at Texas Tech, and I would rather take a peek at his files before having to make contact. So, are you up for a little late night 'b and e'?"

Morgan looked at the handsome waiter, then turned back to Devon, taking another sip of her wine as she listened to his plans. Putting the glass down, she smiled at him. "Just tell me what to do." When Ricardo returned again, asking her if she needed more wine, she covered the top of the glass with her hand, "No...thank you, Ricardo. I am fine." Her eyes twinkled at Devon as the waiter walked away. "If we are to a little 'b and e' then I've had enough wine. I'm not used to drinking alcohol. Now that we know what it is we're doing, what are we going to eat? I'm starving and I have no idea what to order. Is this where I pretend I'm a lady and let you order?" She smiled as she said this, making it clear that she was joking with him, although she was more than willing to let him order for them both as this was his area of expertise and she was just a novice.

Devon raised an eyebrow at her playful remark, then grinned as he opened the menu, then after quickly perusing it looked over at the girl and said, "I see what you mean." The menu was laid out in a fashion that made it difficult for one to know what they were specifically getting, which was done to provide the chefs with some flexibility and not stifle their creativity.

"A pity one just couldn't order a simple hamburger in such a beautiful establishment, eh?" he joked, then spread his menu on the table and pointing to one of the sections brought, Morgan's attention to the Primer Plato, "That just means the first course, I think I am going to try the asparagus soup." He then went through the menu and pointed out the Segundo Plato, which one instinctively would have guessed was the second course, which was actually the main course. There were a few to choose from, such as a Paella Valencia and Atun with White bean Cassoulet all of which had detailed description below their titles and exorbitant prices.

Together they eventually arrived at satisfactory choices and Ricardo promptly returned just as they lowered their menus. Upon hearing their order, the knowledgeable server made some of his own suggestions to add some more zest to the meal and lingered for some time around Morgan before heading back to the kitchen.

"This is how you should be spending your time, Morgan." Stated Devon as he polished off another glass of wine and seeing the confusion in her eyes, glanced over at the handsome waiter on the other side of the restaurant, "You should be dating a nice young man like Ricardo, going to school and heading out to a club at one in the morning instead of accompanying an old agent on mission; not that I am not appreciative of your help."

Devon poured himself another glass wine, draining the bottle. Unlike, Morgan he could definitely handle a few glasses of wine and was thoroughly enjoying the drink, which he did not partake in too much these days.

"I don't blame you though, Morgan... getting caught up in the intrigue of it all. That's what attracted me to Beacon, twenty or so years ago, but I was already fighting crime ten years before that, so understand that I'm speaking from experience. It's important right now that you stick with me for the time being out of necessity, but I don't want to cramp your style. After we get you sorted out, we'll return to this conversation and perhaps I'll be able to convince you to toss this lifestyle aside."

Morgan couldn't help but smile at Devon's opinions, knowing that he meant well, but she had no desire to go to a club in the early hours of the morning or date the good looking waiter. Once they were done deciding on what to order, giving it to Ricardo, whom Morgan made a point of not to flirt with, she turned her attention onto her 'mentor'.

"Devon....I appreciate your concern, but he is normal....not like me. What would happen if he saw me calling to a squirrel or bobcat or worse, spiders. What would happen then? No....I have no desire to go to a club at one in the morning or date someone who's not going to understand what I am. Besides, once you get me 'straightened' out, who's to say that I won't want to keep doing this.....helping those who need our help. And for the record, you're not an OLD agent and you're not cramping my style. Trust me."

Everything she said she said in a low voice, making sure that no one heard her. Then their food arrived, smelling wonderful and looking even better. Ricardo made it a point to smile at Morgan, who smiled back politely, but not encouragingly. "Enjoy your meal", he said, still smiling at Morgan then returning to the kitchen. "Trust me, Devon, you're not cramping my style....if anything, you're helping me find my 'style'."

For a while Devon didn't speak. He had nodded politely and seemed to be considering a response as he sampled the various flavors of his meal, mixing them with a mouthful of wine, savoring the delicious meal. Trust had always been an issue with, Toril, as it was with all of their kind, and he had learned during the course of his life that a Meta always had to keep their guard up, especially around their own kind. There was conviction in Morgan's words and he was appreciative of the fact that he had moved enough with the times so as not to be a social stigma, of which he was ever conscious of — he had to be. As time lingered on, his physically appearance had began to drag further and further behind his chronological age and now nearing the twilight of his years he found himself yet at the threshold of youth. His mind had stayed sharp, but the memories gathered hung heavy like an sturdy oak over time succumbing to the weight of it's own massive boughs.

Devon took yet another sip of wine, then spoke, his eyes yet remaining upon the food before him. "Among Meta-human's there exists a gene, or rather a combination of genes that do not comply with the Human code. It is loosely referred to as the 'Longevity Gene'. Not all possess it but those that do will linger on much longer that the rest. Sigma no doubt possesses it, and I know of a few others, Yelena for one and... I also have it."

Wraith took another sip of wine and his bright eyes leapt up to study Morgan's reaction before he continued, "I am well into my sixties." he revealed, the tone of his voice steady, serious and low so as not draw the attention of any eavesdroppers. "This is why I urge you to consider a 'normal' path... for now... but I am not going to press you. I am not your fath—". Devon stopped himself before finishing the word, but it was too late. "Oh, I'm sorry." he immediately apologized.

Morgan cast her eyes downward to her plate right after Devon's slip up, her eyes darkening as they always did anymore when someone mentioned her father or she thought about him too long, which even a second was too long. She breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly to calm herself. After a few cleansing breaths, she felt better....more in control and looked back up to Devon. Her eyes were their normal color once more, but the hurt showed in them like a beacon. "It's okay, Devon. If you had been my father, I highly doubt that I would be as screwed up as I am now. As it is, I don't know if I've ever thanked you for helping me."

She was trying hard to push down the anger and hurt and was doing quite well. "As for my choice of 'path', I've tried the normal life, Devon.....it got my cousin killed...for nothing. It also got my uncle killed....over nothing. I've had my fill of a 'normal' life. If normal means those that I love dying, whether because I will live longer or because my actions will kill them, then I choose to lead an abnormal life. At least that way, I can help others." She took a bite of something...she wasn't sure what it was, but her eyes lit up at the taste. "Wow, this is really good." She took another bite, then grew serious again. "I am not surprised that you are in your sixties, don't ask me why, maybe something I overheard or just a feeling. I don't know, what I do know is....."her lavender eyes looked into his, as serious as he'd ever seen her, "I've never fit in with the 'normal' life and I don't want to start trying again now. Besides, I'm half crazy, Devon.....I don't want to be out with some guy and all of sudden Sasha or Frank decide it's time to pop in."

She went back to her dinner, hoping that he would take her seriously. She meant what she'd said.....she'd tried normal and it had gotten her nothing but heartache. She'd rather be with her own kind, learn how to help people while controlling her insanity.

The seriousness of Morgan's tone held Wraith's attention, but when she stopped mid sentence to comment on the flavour of her meal his eyes fell to her plate with a questioning until she once more resumed her thoughts.

"Don't forget I could be your father." Joked Devon, menacing her with his fork to add to the levity that was returning to their dinner, "And you won't find any argument in me against your assessment of things, but don't worry, we'll get things sorted out. I respect your choices, but maybe in time you'll see it my way... maybe you won't. If this is the path you want to take, I'm not going to stand in your way. Helping people and making a difference is what I miss the most, it's why I'm here and how much of a hypocrite would I be if I did not respect you for wanting to do the same?"

Devon scooped up the last morsel off his plate and chewed it down, followed by another sip of wine. He stared at the glass and smiled before placing down on the table, "I missed this." he said, and Morgan could tell that he wasn't speaking about the wine, but about the whole lifestyle.

"When I worked for Beacon, this was my life," Wraith explained, "but all good things eventually come to an end. You see the organization became corrupt, our agenda's set by other government agencies vying for nothing but power. Instead of fighting against R.A.I.D. and those Meta's who used their powers to their own selfish ends, Beacon began to deal with the vermin, just like this countries judicial system. Everything was suddenly about money and position and so I walked away, but there are still a few who believe in honour. A few who are trying to rebuild Beacon; turn it back into the guiding light that it once was for Meta-kind. You could be a part of that, Morgan."

Devon had shown his hand. He did not want to deceive the girl and so he opted to simply tell her the truth and make her the offer that he had been requested to make. While he was no longer a Beacon operative, he had always maintained his ties the organization, and even now was utilizing their resources under the guise of Steven Moore. He did not believe that the Beacon as it was now, was safe for Morgan, but even as they enjoyed their meal changes were taking place in the agency, changes that would restore Beacon to it's former glory.

"Dessert?" Offered Ricardo, who stood humbly by, finally taking the hint from Morgan that she wasn't interested.

Devon looked over at the waiter and held his gaze until he started to become uneasy. Ricardo, swallowed nervously and offered a weak smile, "Would you care for dessert, sir?" he offered again, aware that the large man had detected his advances toward the girl.

Wraith raised his hand and wiggled his finger, requesting the young man to draw closer, which he did with much apprehension, but Devon was not about to do anything rash, he merely asked him a simple question. "How do you know that we are not a couple?"

Ricardo was uncomfortable at first, but when the large man sat back in his seat casually and said, "Please.", the young man answered honestly, "You are wearing a ring, sir." then he sheepishly explained, "I am very sorry, but I kind of thought that maybe you were having an affair."

The waiter then stiffened expecting some sort of repercussion, but Devon just smiled and laughed, holding up his hand and observing his platinum wedding ring. "Thank you, lad, for your honesty." he said to Ricardo, then he looked over at Morgan, "Dessert?"

Morgan held back a chuckle at the waiter's honesty, then realized that Devon truly did wear a ring. Why hadn't she noticed it before? She looked quizzically at it, but didn't ask any questions. She figured that if he'd wanted her to know he would have told her and she didn't pry. But she did think about his statement regarding Beacon as she politely turned down dessert. "I would like to think about being a part of this restoring Beacon", she said in a low voice after Ricardo had left. "I need to know more before I commit to anything. Until then, what is the plan regarding the good doctor?" She watched his face, wondering about Beacon and why would he want her to be a part of restoring it. She was nothing more than a naive meta, she wasn't going to kid herself any longer about that. Again, she chose not to ask questions just then, instead opting to wait until they were somewhere more private.

It was then that the voices started again and Morgan rubbed at her temple, trying hard to ignore them.

"What are you doing, girl?!!! You want to help the demons?!!! And here I thought you were finally becoming a daughter I could be proud of!!!"

"Morgan......Morgan.......Morgan. Now you're gonna help find a doctor who can save normal people? What did those 'normal' people ever do for you? Except make your life a living hell. You don't want to help them...you know you don't."

Her eyes were lowered, afraid that they would change colors with her 'episode', but her body was stiff, her face pale as she tried to ignore the voices of her father and Sasha.

Declining dessert, Steven Moore requested the cheque and paid for it with his platinum card. He could see that already the stress of blending in was taking its toll on the young Meta and it was time to go. As they exited the restaurant and headed back to Morgan's car, the cooler night air was refreshing and helped to clear the girl's head.

Driving back to the hotel, Devon had been quiet. He and been distracted by something, and Morgan took note of how he played at the ring on his hand while in deep thought.

"She died today." He said right of the blue, "My wife." Devon then immediately clarified. "Thanks for the company, I... I usually spend this time alone." He offered a weak smile then continued on with his story, "I often wear the ring, just as a reminder. She's been gone a long time. Her name was Tatyana."

Devon reached into his jacket and pulled out a thin wallet. He opened it up and held her picture up so that Morgan could take a glance while driving.


"She was originally from, Chicago. That's why it was strange to return to that place, but our time together was in Seattle. Her death was the result of street violence; she was a nurse and during an altercation between two rival gangs she ran into the fray to help a child injured by a stray bullet. She was shot and died on route to hospital."

The large man grew silent. A sadness washed over him, but he was quick to force the sorrowful memories away and replace them with all the good ones they had accumulated. He smiled as he stared out the window, recalling a time in his life when he was truly happy just being normal.

The Dallas Yellow Taxi pulled up to the front of the Dallas Hyatt Regency Hotel and a doorman hurried to the cab and opened the rear passenger door "Welome to The Dallas Hyatt Regency Hotel Sir." he said as he snapped his fingers and a bell hop ran to the rear of the taxi and removed Nicolia's bags. Nicolia handed the driver the fare and an extra folded fifty dollar bill and climbe out of the cab. The doorman shut the taxi's door and escorted Niclia to the doors of the hotel. Nicolia slipped his a twenty dollar bill and said "Thank you, Comrade." He then walked into the atriumand to the front desk.

"Welcome to The Hyatt Regency sir, how may I help you?" a young attractive blonde woman said with a syurpy sountern Texas drawl.

"I have reservation. Mikloia Romanov." Nicloia said

The desk clerk punched in the name on her computer and said "Yes Mr. Romanov we have your suite ready. If you wil just sign here." she said as she slid a form and the exectronic room key across the desk. "Enjoy your stay Mr. Romanov ...... I am Susan ...... and please don't hesitate to call upon me if I can help you with anyything." she said and smiled somewhat seductively. She then gestured to the young bell hop, who just rolled his eyes at the young woman. "Take Mr. Romanov to his suite." she said to the bell hop and gave him a hard dissaproving look.

"This way, if you please, Sir." The bell hop said as he carried Nicolia's bag towards the executive elevator.

Morgan glanced at the beautiful woman in the photo and saw Devon's sadness. "I am so sorry, Devon. And, I'm glad that you let me......be here with you. Especially now." She laid her right hand on his thigh. It was meant to be comforting and was only for a second before she put her hand back on the steering wheel. "At least you can take some comfort in the fact that you didn't cause her death." She was beginning to see many sides to this big man, sides she never would have imagined existed. It was nice to see that even though he was a meta, he was also human. Thinking about Tim, she gave a small grin wondering if he was human. She sighed, beginning to wonder if what she felt was just a young girl's infatuation with her rescuer.

As they drove back to the hotel, where she assumed they were going, she thought about how Tim acted. He'd always protected her, but never truly made any indications that he was interested in her other than just a friend. He'd shown Yelena more feeling than he had her, to tell the truth. But, she also knew he and Yelena had known each other for many years. Again, she sighed. She had feelings for the cowboy, she was sure of that. It was more than just infatuation, but she couldn't very well pursue someone who didn't return those feelings or wasn't ready to.

That was when she came to the conclusion that she needed to help herself before she decided on what to do where Tim was concerned. With Devon's help, hopefully she would be able to do that. She knew that he didn't take her seriously in her telling him that she didn't want the life of a young woman. There was no point in it, to her way of thinking. She glanced over at him again, seeing that he was looking out the window and wished that she could help him as he was helping her, but she knew that in something like the death of a loved one, there wasn't a whole lot you could do except be there if and when they needed you.

"So, I'm heading back to the hotel assuming that that's where we're headed. And, should I start calling you Steven all of the time, instead of Devon?"

"Hotel?" Replied Devon, pulling himself out of memory, "Yes... we have to change."

Devon focused then, concentrating on the task at hand and in mere seconds the watery sentimentalities were frozen once more, his face turning to ice. For the rest of the ride Wraith had been silent, planning their excursion; a calculating man, he was never comfortable with spontaneity, but he felt it just might work to their advantage in this case.

As they exited the car and made their way through the parking garage to the elevator, Devon finally spoke. "Make sure to just dress casually." He told Morgan, he checked the time on his phone, "It's close to eight o'clock, there will still be some night classes going on, I'll check the campus site when we get back to the room and see if Jacobson has any scheduled."

As the elevator rose to the main level, it stopped and the doors opened. Devon, shuffled into the corner to make room from the on-comers, but only one man stepped on, a man who looked like his world had suddenly come crashing down. He was disheveled; his suit smelled of smoke and there were black charcoal stains on his sleeves, his eyes were red and he had a persistent cough, characteristic with the lingering effect of smoke inhalation.


As number two lit up, Kaleb lifted his head to take a glance at who was on the elevator with him. He first saw the girl, acknowledging with a smile and a nod, then as his eyes drifted over to the tall man they lit up with recognition.

"Steven? Steven Moore, right? From breakfast this morning."

Devon smiled and stuck out his hand, giving the agent a firm shake. "Agent Kaleb Mitchell, I was wondering if we'd cross paths again. You alright?" he inquired his eyes making reference to the man's attire.

Mitchell sighed. "Bad day at the office."

Devon complied with nod, knowing that a 'bad day' for an agent meant somebody was critically injured or died. Could it have had anything to do with, Tim or Yelena? He was just about to casually ask what might have happened when the agent looked over at the girl with the unusual eye colour, then back to Devon with a curious expression. It was obvious they were together, so Kaleb cut to the chase, offered his right hand to the young woman and introduced himself, "Hi, agent Mitchell, in case you didn't hear." he said with a warm smile, "Do you two work together?"