Dr. Hans Gruber watched as the scientists administered the treatments to the test subjects. The results looked promising; half the test subjects were showing signs of mental activity, which denoted potential for telepathic activity. The other half... well, it was best not to think about them. Medical advances always involved... setbacks. Unfortunately, because the goal was to create and boost mental powers, the ability to use test animals was limited. Therefore, one had to be flexible with the definition of "test animals". The facility was officially named Base Michael-Sierra One. It had been nicknamed "The Farm" by the workers, in reference to its remote location and rural surroundings. Officially, Project Mindshadow fell under the same auspices of Project Sapphire and Project Darkmist, all of which were under the umbrella of the Meta Task Force headed by General Garner, with the stated goal of furthering human development. Quietly, it was understood that the real goal was to provide the government a means of regaining control of the increasing number of metahumans in the world. In this narrow field, Gruber was one of the best. His work was shunned because it drew its roots from the WWII Nazi mind control experiments and his questionable medical ethics. His expertise with mental development was nonetheless unquestioned. "We have initial results from the third pass of medications, Dr. Gruber," one of the scientists reported as he handed Gruber a clipboard. Gruber looked it over and grimaced; only a 120% gain in previous mental activity. Unfortunately, it appeared to him that they were hitting the curve of diminishing returns using psychotropic drugs alone. "Tell the team to begin electro-shock treatments." The scientist nodded without missing a beat. On paper, the electro-shock treatments had the potential of supercharging the mental development of the necessary energy to generate mental powers. The risks of frying people's minds however were considerable. Gruber made a mental reminder to request more test subjects; he suspected he would be needing replacements soon. Andrew McGee made his way to the lunch table carrying his usual tray of food. The food service here was adequate but bland. He really didn't have much choice on food selection and right now, he would pay real money for a decent bowl of chocolate pudding. With all the drugs these government guys were feeding them, he would have thought they could afford a couple of boxes of Jello. "Andrew, over here." McGee looked surprised to hear his name being called and walked over to the young woman who called him. She was a pretty red-head with a tray of the same food he was holding. The color-coded tag on her shirt marked her as one of the test subjects. "How'd you know my name?" McGee asked with a surprised look. "I read you mind," she whispered back conspiratorially, before smirking. "Nah, I asked the lunch counter guy." McGee took the invitation and sat down. He looked at her lunch tray and noticed her smaller portions. "Having trouble keeping food down?" She nodded. "Sometimes. The doctors say I should still try to eat though. Also, I get these headaches when they do their tests on us." McGee nodded. He was in a different group of people, on a different set of medications. The tests they were subjected to sometimes made his nose bleed when he was told to concentrate on items placed in front of him and move them with his mind. The woman smiled and offered her hand. "I'm Vickie." She glanced back at the watching security staff, then added drolly, "or as they call me, 'Subject F12'." "Subject M21," McGee replied at the little joke and took her hand. "But you can call me Andy." Angelina blinked as she shook and rubbed her head. The voices and visions were beginning to start up again, along with the headaches they inevitably brought. In front of the classroom, a bored teacher droned a cursory reading of American History. It was time for another pill. The classroom bell mercifully rang a short time later, dismissing the class. Angelina headed straight for the nearest water fountain and washed down a pill. She closed her eyes and sighed. The voices and images in her head began to fade, to be replaced by the all-too-familiar hazy fog that clouded her mind. It was a condition she had been dealing with for her entire young life. In the school cafeteria, Angelina sat alone with her thought, almost oblivious to the throng of students around her. Were it not for the drug-induced haze, she would have probably broken down with despair. At 14, she was by most standards, stunningly beautiful and should have been living the best times of her young life. She should have been dating boys, gossiping with girls, shopping, going to movies and enjoying all that life had to offer. Instead, she was crippled by a chronic condition that all but prevented those experiences. Half the time, she was constantly hearing imaginary voices and images in her head; it was like everyone around her was shouting their every idle thought at the top of their lungs. The other half, when she took her pills her mind was so deadened, she could barely feel anything. "Hey Angie." Angelina turned around as her friend Madelyn sat down next to her. "Hey Maddie," she replied drowsily. Madelyn sighed knowingly. "Did you just take one?" Angelina nodded briefly. "Up to four a day." Madelyn shook her head. "So what did you see this time? The stuff in your head, I mean?" Angelina shrugged. "Just more random junk, imagining what the kids in school are saying to one another. The trouble is, it's getting hard to tune out and I have to keep reminding myself that's not what they're actually saying and it's just my imagination. I also saw something weird; some scene with people being experimented on by some government conspiracy. Almost like some scene from a Stephen King movie." She shook her head dismissively. "It's nothing, I'm rambling. That's what happens when your head's full of non-stop free association or whatever my shrink calls it." Madelyn looked around then whispered, "You should write some of that stuff down. Maybe it means something." Angelina snorted. "Are you kidding? My shrink said the same thing and when he looked at what I wrote, they doubled my dosage." Madelyn shrugged. "So how did your date with Peter go last night?" Angelina looked down. "Same old. He picked me up, we drive, he puts his arm around me then his car ups and dies. We spent the rest of the night at Firestone with the techs telling him there's nothing wrong with his car and they can't figure it out." "Man, and just when things were getting good..." "Also, I swear I thought I saw him undressing me in his mind." "That part was probably true," Madelyn deadpanned. "But the worst part? My parents come to pick me up, and are they worried? No, the first words out of their mouths are asking whether I've taken my pills or not. I mean, never mind we were stranded or whether we were alright or not." "Listen, a bunch of us are going to head downtown to 6th street tonight. Want to come with?" "Well, I don't know..." Just then, one of the school administrators walked up and tapped Angelina on the shoulder. "Would you please come with us?" "Why?" Madelyn asked. "What'd she do?" "This isn't your concern Ms. Packard," the administrator coldly replied. Angelina waved Madelyn off as she picked herself up and went with the man. With her mind as foggy as it was, she couldn't muster the will to put up any resistance. Led into the principal's office, she was escorted to one of the offices and left alone. A few minutes later, a familiar man appeared. "Not you again," Angelina sighed. "Now Ms. Clancy, you know this is for your own good," the serious-looking man replied. "We wouldn't be doing our jobs if we didn't provide advice for our students." "I'm not interested in a career in the military. What makes you think I'll change my mind just because you keep pestering me?" The man sighed. "We're not here to pester. It's just that with your aptitude tests..." "What about them?" Angelina interrupted. "I think I was stoned out of my head when I took those." Which wasn't far from the truth, she remembered, having taken one of her pills shortly before. "I'm sure you're exaggerating," the man soothed. "The results we have confirm that you'd be a tremendous asset to..." "To what? How am I an asset? I've never fired a gun in my life. What makes you think I'm any use to the Army?" she replied tiredly. She had seen the man no less than four times in the last few months, and he always had the same message. Not only was she not interested, but something about the man creeped her out. The visions and whispers in her mind always seemed to get louder whenever he made his offer; strange paranoid visions about being turned into some kind of freak or weapon. She had tried dismissing them along with the others as an overactive imagination or symptom of her chronic headaches, but the feelings of dread never left. "There's more to the military than just being a soldier," the man promised. "They're in a position to provide you and your family a free education, some very good benefits and a great career." She shook her head again. How many times did she have to turn this guy down? "I'm a little young to be stressing about a career." The man sighed again. "I can see we need time to think things over. Your next class starts soon. I'm sure we'll talk again." "I can hardly wait," Angelina sarcastically replied as she stood up and left the office. After the door closed, the man waited a few seconds, and then picked up the phone. "She's still resisting. I think we need to get the domestic agents to apply some pressure on their front." Dr. Hans Gruber watched the grisly scene from behind the one-way mirror. The room had the benefit of being soundproofed. Not that Dr. Gruber worried about suffering in the name of science, but there was only so much caterwauling one could take. One of the assistants handed him a clipboard summarizing the latest results. Reading them over made Dr. Gruber shake his head with a mix of resignation and hope. So the electro-shock treatments were a little harsh after all. He had half-expected these results, but had hoped that his new collection of psychotropic drugs would allow the human mind to tolerate the shock treatments used to open up new neural pathways. "What is your latest update?" Dr. Gruber turned around and nodded at the man sitting in the shadows. He wanted to ask the man not to smoke in the labs, but this man had the seniority to dictate otherwise. "We've lost about 30% of our test subjects. Of the remaining subjects, most of them are exhibiting signs of advanced psychosis Mr. Raintree." John Raintree nodded gravely and looked back into the room of screaming patients. "How many subjects are still psychologically viable?" "We have six: Subjects F12, F4, F35, M9, M21, and M43. They each are showing signs of significant psychic potential." Raintree flipped through the details and raised his eyebrows. "Some of this is quite impressive. It is distressing to have such a high rate of negative side effects. I understand there's also a child involved?" "Yes sir, follow me." Raintree and Gruber walked into a series of corridors to a separate set of rooms. The staff here included a large number of medical personnel. A prenatal medical unit had been set up with an infant being examined by a series of sensors. "Apparently subjects M21 and F12 decided to participate in some...extracurricular activities." Gruber shook his head. "Young people these days..." Raintree paused as he read the last set of pages. "Are these readings from the child accurate?" "We believe them to be sir." Raintree looked into the prenatal facility with a glimmer of hope and grave concern. "Start a program to track her development. Perhaps there is an opportunity here to take the Project to another level." Andrew McGee trembled as he sat in the testing room. His hands were manacled to the chair to ensure no chance at corrupting the tests, but the worst part was his head. The days and nights had become a blur of pain and suffering. The doctors had assured him over and over that his body would adapt to the changes in time, but that didn't help his situation nor quiet his fears. The lunchroom, once full of test subjects, was now down to only a small handful. Men and women he once had pleasant conversations with were now reduced to babbling loonies, some of who had to be physically restrained. "Please concentrate on the test objects." the voice ordered from the speaker. McGee nodded tiredly and looked at the table in front of him. Arranged in a neat order was a set of iron weight plates and dumbbells. They were laid out order of increasing weight. He stared at the weights and his brow furrows. Despite the discomfort and stress, there was still a small part of him that found this exercise fascinating. Behind the glass of the observation room, the technicians watched with more clinical detachment. It wasn't that there wasn't an air of excitement at what they were seeing; it just didn't pay to get emotionally attached to any of the test subjects. "Psychokinetic force, ten pounds and climbing..." "Subject's blood pressure up to 140 over 85. Pulse up to 85 bpm. Respiration within normal parameters." A bead of sweat trickled down McGee's forehead as he felt his nose began to bleed. It wasn't as much a physical effort as it was a strain on his mind. He began to pant, but his mind refused to budge. He shook his head. "I...think that's all I have..." The technicians watched for another ten minutes before calling the test. Amongst themselves, there were mixed opinions of their progress. McGee was escorted back to the main room where the subjects were monitored on hospital beds. He lay back down, trembling and fighting waves of nausea. He was also fighting the feeling of dread. Over the last few months, several test subjects had been taken away and were never seen again. What was once a crowded room of patients had dwindled to only half full, and several of those looked in pretty bad shape. He wondered when his time would come. "You there?" he asked in his head. A sigh of exhaustion was his reply. "Just barely I think." McGee did his best not to let his own feelings creep into his thoughts, but it was probably a futile effort. Vickie's tests involved picking and guessing patterned cards by reading them off the minds of the observers. In those tests, she scored nearly a 100% success rate, which meant hiding strong emotions was probably impossible. Besides, he thought he felt a similar dread in her thoughts as well; the subjects in her test group tended to suffer less physical problems like strokes and heart failures, but more than made up that score in psychoses and catatonia. "How are they treating her?" he asked. His mental voice was tinged with worry; the doctors weren't too pleased when Vickie became pregnant and took the child away from them when their baby girl was born. It took all the begging they could muster just to let them name the baby. "They're feeding her, but..." Vickie's voice trailed off with sadness. "She's lonely. They won't even touch her except with those machines. Something about not wanting to contaminate her mental development with emotional bonding." McGee suppressed his anger at the cruelty of the remark. It was one thing when he first volunteered. He was single, with no job prospects, no future, and nothing to lose. The whole project had sounded like an exciting journey into science fiction, but had long ago descended into horror. He had watched decent people turned into crazy nuts. Now that he had found someone he wanted to spend his life with, and a baby to care for, it was time to make some changes. He had to find a way out. Angelina walked into the small one-story middle class home with a sigh and dropped her school books in her room. Her head was filling up again with strange visions of men and women suffering from a fictitious conspiracy, along with more mundane imaginations of her neighbors' lives. They always got stronger as the drugs wore off and lately; the drugs' effectiveness had been getting less and less. She took another pill and gave it a minute for the voices in her head to die back down. Her parents would be home soon, which wasn't something she looked forward to. When she was younger, she tried to get more involved with school and community activities, but her folks never seemed to care. The only time they did was when she once suggested that the pills were messing her up in little league softball, and they responded by yanking her off the team. She thought about all the times she met Maddie's parents at their house and when she met Peter's parents at the Firestone last night. How Maddie's folks made time to attend every band performance; how Peter's dad couldn't stop talking about his son's football games. Maddie would always complain that her parents were trying to run her life, while Peter looked downright embarrassed that his father would call him out publicly the way he did. She found herself longing for that kind of attention and care; even downright meddling would have been welcome to the cool aloof upbringing she had to put up with. "Angelina, are you there?" "Yeah mom," Angelina replied tiredly. She rolled her eyes as she could almost see her mom coming to her room holding that infernal device. "It's that time dear," Mary Clancy said as she held a blood monitor. Angelina apathetically touched her finger onto the pad as it pricked her. A few seconds later, the monitor beeped. "Hmm.... your sugar levels are a little low. Did you take your medicine?" "Yeah mom, I just took one a few minutes ago." Mary stared at the numbers with a grave expression on her face. For a moment, Angelina thought she saw a flash of something else, but it quickly faded. Behind Mary, John Clancy came up and looked at the monitor as well. "Angelina, I'm afraid it looks like we're going to have to go to the doctors in the morning." "What?" Angelina asked with concern. "What's wrong now?" "It's nothing Angelina," John replied gruffly. "They just may need to adjust your dosage some." "Oh God..." Angelina moaned. Every time she heard that, it usually meant another increase in dosage. "I don't want to hear that kind of talk Angelina." John replied sharply. "We're doing these treatments for your own good." "Those pills turn my head into mush," Angelina complained. "They're for your own good," John insisted. "Is that all you care about?" Angelina demanded. "How drugged up I am? Whenever I'm on them, I can barely think. I can't study or concentrate on school or anything else." There was a pause as John and Mary looked at each other, and then turned back to Angelina. "You won't do much in school if you get really sick and end up in the hospital," John said. "We just want what's best for you dear," Mary persisted. "Yeah right," Angelina muttered with a sotto voce. "By the way Angelina," John continued, "we got a call from your school today." "If it's about my schoolwork, I told you I can't concentrate when I'm doped up." "Not that Angelina. The school councilor says you've not been very receptive to career guidance." Angelina blinked with surprised at the unexpected change in the subject. "You mean the Army guy? What about him?" "The school councilor says you're being rebellious about taking good advice. He presented us with his proposal and we both think it's a good idea." "Since when do you care about what I do besides taking these stupid pills?" "Calm down dear," Mary nervously said. Angelina tensed up with frustration as her head began to pound painfully. "Don't tell me to calm down! I don't want a career with the Army!" "Young lady, that's enough!" John retorted harshly. "We're taking you to the doctors in the morning, and then we're going to meet with this councilor to discuss your future!" "It's my life!" Angelina shouted back. Just then, the windows in the room shattered as the lights in the house flickered on and off. John and Mary both cringed as Angelina froze and stared at the chaos. "Wha...?" Angelina whispered. "Some kids out front," Mary said with uncertainty and looked to John. "Right, that's what it is," John confirmed with mixed emotions. "I'll take care of this. But you young lady are grounded!" "For what?" Angelina protested. "You'll stay in your room until you show some respect!" John and Mary left the room, closing the door behind them. Angelina buried her head in her bed as the tears began to come. Her head still felt white-hot from a flash of pain that coincided with the vandals who broke the windows. They were going to blame her for that? She could tell; something about their expressions told her that her parents thought she was responsible for that too. The pain and the momentary clarity it brought had faded and the cotton filled her head once again. The day's events added to the disorientation; she just didn't know what to do. More and more the last few years, her life felt like it was out of her control. It was like she was on a collision course with some kind of destiny and not one that she wanted any part of. She got up and looked outside the shattered window. Her parents were nowhere to be seen and she didn't hear anything in the house. She briefly wondered where they went, but realized that she really didn't care. The less she saw of them right now, the better. Right now, she needed to get out. She needed to try and find herself and what she wanted to do with her life. She turned the lights in her room off, and then slid the window open as quietly as she could. Maddie lived just a few blocks away and right now she needed a friendly voice. Andrew McGee counted his change as he picked his groceries up from the cart. The cashier smiled at him and he returned the greeting. The people in the small town were friendly and had welcomed them since the couple had arrived only a few months ago. Such was the life for a couple on the run. "Got everything you need Andy?" "Yeah Bill, I'm good." Bill Harvey pulled his pickup truck onto the street with Andy's groceries in the back. As they drove, Andrew kept an eye on the rear vie mirror. As a matter of habit, he checked for anyone following him. It had been nearly two and a half years since Victoria and Andrew's escape from the Project. They had made their break during an exercise outing that Victoria had managed to "push" into the minds of their supervisors, followed by Andrew using his gifts to disable and unlock the security gates and steal a Project van. Over the next several months, Victoria and Andrew had to stay on the move almost constantly as Project agents dogged their trail. In the last few months, they had settled in this rural town in Montana near the Canadian border where Andrew managed to find a job working for Bill Harvey as a stocker at the town's supply store. They were renting a small cabin in a secluded part close to the woods. Pursuit had slowed somewhat as both hoped that being far off the populated areas would buy them some time. Neither one was naive enough to believe that the Project would ever actually give up on them. "You OK, Andy? You seem kind of nervous." "Yeah...sure...just thinking about dinner, that's all. What about you Bill, how's life at home?" Andrew asked as he tried to steer the subject away from his unpleasant circumstances. Bill snorted. "I just wish dinner was my biggest worry." He sighed. "Barbara's been on my case about all sorts of things. I envy you and Vickie. What's your big secret anyway?" "Being really honest," Andy smiled. Especially when your wife reads minds, he reminded himself. The truck pulled up to the cabin and came to a stop. Andrew grabbed the groceries and nodded. "I think I can get these." "Are you sure? Looks like kind of a lot." "Nah, I'm good. I'm stronger than I look," Andrew assured him. "OK, see you tomorrow then?" "First thing in the morning." Inside the small cabin, Andrew put the groceries and headed to the bedroom where he heard Victoria with the baby. He watched from the doorway as she held the baby close. "Hush little baby, don't say a word... mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird..." Victoria whispered in her mind. She could feel the baby's contentment as she gently rocked to sleep. It was difficult for others to get close to little Angelina. The few friends they had met in town said they had dizziness spells and headaches when they got too close to her, which often left Victoria and Andrew making lame excuses. Victoria though never had that problem; like mother like daughter, she thought. "How is she?" Andrew whispered. Victoria sighed with contentment and fatigue. "Seems like she's getting stronger every day. If she keeps growing at this pace, she's going to be quite a little trooper." The two of them quietly left the makeshift nursery as Victoria picked up a melted plate. "If we survive the experience." Andrew shook his head. "Maybe it'll be cheaper if we switch to paper plates." He looked at Victoria, and any lingering frustration faded. No matter what the obstacle, anything was better than being under the thumb of the Project. He put his arms around her shoulders. "We'll find a way. It'll all work out." The field commander lowered his binoculars and tapped his communicator. "They're both inside." "Wait until the truck is out of sight. Be better if we can avoid witnesses." "Roger that. Snipers in position..." Living on the run meant a lot of cheap instant meals, but that was a price both Andrew and Victoria were willing to pay. The small cook stove did an adequate job heading a few cans of-soup. Outside, a dim rumble of sound slowly rolled towards the cabin. Andrew's preparations were interrupted as he looked outside. "What's that? Thunder?" Victoria's eyes widened as she shook her head. "They're here!" Andrew dropped the pots and bolted to the nursery as Victoria followed right behind him. It wasn't the first time they had to make a quick escape and each time meant starting over in another town. Outside the cabin, four large black suburbans closed in and surrounded the cabin. Teams of soldiers scrambled out and assumed cover positions on the windows and doors as they advanced on the house. The first pair converged on the front door with a battering ram. The door gave way with a crunch. "Secure the house!" the commander ordered. Inside soldiers stormed into the living room, checking the closets and other potential hiding places. Downstairs in the basement, Andrew and Victoria made their way to the outdoor cellar entrance and peeked out. "There's two of them up there," Victoria whispered as she held her hands to her temples. "The rest have the door and garage blocked." Andrew took Angelina from Victoria so she could concentrate. "Come to daddy sweetheart." He then looked at Victoria. "If we could get to one of their vans, maybe we could get clear. It worked last time." "The strain almost killed you last time," Victoria protested. "It's that or go back to the Project," Andrew replied. "Don't worry about me. I'll get the car and handle the soldiers." He handed Angelina back to Victoria. "You just take care of Angelina." Andrew opened the cellar door, and almost immediately got the attention of the soldiers by the door. As they turned and aimed their guns, Andrew exhaled and concentrated as hard as he could. The two soldiers flew backwards and their rifles snapped into pieces. He then turned his attention to the door to the nearest suburban and opened the doors from the inside. Victoria came out as soon as the doors were opened, taking Angelina in her arms. Behind her, three more soldiers came running around from inside the house and aimed their rifles at her as she placed Angelina into the stolen suburban. "Stop!" Victoria shouted as the three men froze. "You... you don't want to do this...!" She panted as she gripped her forehead. "You want to put the guns down and walk awa...!" Just then, another shot rang out loud. Andrew froze in shock and horror as Victoria's head snapped back from the impact. "No...!" he shouted as Victoria's body slumped in his arms. The three gunmen resumed their approach with their guns drawn, and then abruptly flew backwards. A wave of force rippled forward, shattering the suburban windows. Tears of grief ran down Andrew's face as he charged forward. He had to push them back and get Angelina out of here. "He's coming around the front of the SUV now. Target locked," a voice reported. "Take him out!" the lead solder ordered. The burst of another rifle erupted and hit Andrew center-mass. "Tangos down!" the muffled voice coldly reported as the first soldier gave a hand-signal to his partner to surround the McGees. "I have the package," the soldier reported as he roughly grabbed the baby from the suburban. She began to whimper, and then cry. The soldier froze and clutched his head in pain. Outside, the other soldiers winced and writhed in agony. The baby cried harder; outside, the soldiers in the area began to bleed from their noses and ears. Despite their briefing and shielding, the pain was like nothing they ever felt. "G-gas'em all...!" the leader managed to sputter into his mike as his mouth began to froth with blood. Above the cabin in the sky, a helicopter came over the horizon and fired rockets into the compound. The warheads detonated above the cabin with loud pop, drowning the area with a thick greenish fog. The air fell silent as the soldiers in the area passed out from the anesthesia gas. A few minutes later, the helicopter flew past the area again, blowing the air clear of gas, then landed near the suburbans. Three more soldiers climbed out and surveyed the area, then carefully approached the now-unconscious baby. The lead soldier nodded, and then the second one pressed his communicator. "Package is secure. We'll need a pickup for our men." Gruber nodded gravely as he listened to the phone. "I see. Well, good work. Make sure there's nothing there to identify." He hung up and turned towards Raintree. "You were right. They didn't go easily." Raintree lit a cigarette and smiled thinly. "Frankly, I would have been disappointed if they did. Their tests confirm that they were two of the more promising candidates. Fortunately, having a pair of snipers in position enabled us to present a threat they couldn't detect and counter until it was too late. A pity really; but necessary." Raintree paused as he noted Gruber's reticence. "You disagree?" "I know I'm not on the operations side of things. But I still think M21 and F12 could have been better utilized by the Project. The fact that they were able to escape and stay ahead of pursuit as long as they did proves they were one of the few who were able to adapt to the program." "The strike team has instructions to bring them back to the Project. Your team will have all the opportunity it needs to examine them. But we had to retrieve the package." Gruber walked to the computer monitor and typed some keys. "If the readings the strike team are reporting are accurate, then F67 could be the answer to all our problems. But that won't help if she won't work for us." "And that is precisely why measures had to be taken to ensure that her upbringing was under our control. Think about it; Andrew and Victoria McGee had already decided to leave the Project. What do you think the likelihood was going to be that they would allow Angelina to be drafted into our services? Even if they could have been...persuaded, the fact was clear that they were ill-equipped to handle the strain of raising their little girl." "According to your own intelligence sources, the McGees appeared to be a functional family unit. Why would they lose control after being able to hold her in check for the last few years?" "Simple. Ask yourself this question: How exhausting must it have been for Victoria and Andrew McGee while this child was an infant? The bottle is late, the baby cries, and at that moment, the windows in the bedroom start shattering." "You're making it sound like she's some kind of monster." "That's because she is a monster. And she'll be a far more dangerous one if we don't take control. Suppose telekinetics are only the tip of the iceberg?" "I'm afraid I don't follow you." "You once told me the psionic talents of the more successful candidates were directly linked to their pituitary gland; in this case, the child's undeveloped pituitary gland. What happens when she becomes an adolescent and that sleeping gland wakes and becomes, for 20 months, the most powerful force in the human body? Suppose we have a child here who, someday, is capable of destroying entire cities simply by the power of her will?" "Hmm...I see where you're going with this. And that's assuming she's only inherited her father's abilities. What if she's also carrying her mother's gifts as well?" Raintree nodded. "That is a concern. If she has Victoria's telepathic abilities as well, then we'll have to ensure she can't use them until she's agreed to sign onto the Project. If we don't, then our agents won't stand a chance to indoctrinate her. Can you develop a suppressant to keep her in check?" Gruber thought it over. "Probably. She would have to take the drugs every day and we would have to monitor her blood chemistry to keep the psychotropics at the proper levels. The agents you assign to be her foster parents are going to have to be able to sell her on staying on the drugs no matter what. Their lives and the future of the Project could very well depend on it." The suburban pulled onto the street with the sounds of hip-hop echoing from the windows. Inside the crowded interior, Angelina looked at Madelyn and Pamela with a twinge of envy at their stylish clothes. Despite Madelyn's assurances and borrowed jacket, she felt horribly under-dressed for a night on the town. Although Angelina tried her best not to be petty about such things, the fact that her parents only bought the bare minimum necessities for her was always a sticking point in the back of her mind. That kind of cheapness always made her look so shabby next to all the other girls in school in their designer clothes. Up front, Peter, along with his friends Ralph and Michael talked about football, hunting, and superheroes, while Madelyn and Pamela did their best to disguise their disinterest. Boys their expressions both said. "So Angie, your parents are kind of a drag, huh?" Peter asked as he drove the suburban. Angelina shook her head and rubbed her forehead. She was having a hard time concentrating through the fog. "Um... yeah. Tonight was pretty bad. I just... just needed to get out of that house." "I know that," Ralph agreed. "Like my folks. I mean, normally, they're pretty cool, but my mom's always nagging me about my schoolwork, telling me how she had to work so hard to get to go to college and all." "Like you're gonna go to college," Pamela snorted. "Hey, I'm getting in," Ralph protested. "Just you wait; I've already had three college coaches offering scholarships." "So what about you Peter?" Madelyn asked. "Are you going to play football in college?" "Eh...I'm not sure," Peter hedged. "My mom doesn't want me to, but dad's pushing me to get a college scholarship. Personally, I think he's just living his life through mine." "At least your dad likes you," Michael grumped. "I can't ever be good enough for mine." "What are you talking about Mike?" Madelyn said. "You're a straight-A student. You're on the academic decathlon team." "An A-minus student, my dad would say," Michael corrected. "He's pushing me to get into some big Ivy-League school out of town." "I wouldn't mind getting out of this town," Pamela said. "But those Ivy-League kids are all rich snobs." "That's what I said," Michael agreed. "But my folks are all, like, you gotta think about your future, son." "I don't want to think about the future," Madelyn said. "Mr. Geiger keeps telling me I have talent though." "I swear, you're such a band geek Maddy," Pamela said. "Am not!" "Are too!" "Angie, help me out here," Madelyn pleaded. Angelina blinked at the distraction. "What? Um... " "Hello? Space case?" Pamela asked. Angelina shook her head. "Sorry. I was just thinking...about how nice it'd be to have someone who actually gave a damn about what I'm doing with my life." "I'm sure your folks care," Madelyn assured. "They're just a little...weird about it." "Yeah right," Angelina snorted. "The only person who gives a damn about my future is some jerk in the principal's office who keeps pushing me to join the Army." "No shit?" Peter asked. "For real?" "Yeah, for real," Angelina nodded. "I mean, I've been called to his office like four times and it's always the same crap." "Billy Tolliver joined last year, right out of school," Peter said. "He was a senior last year, so he was before your time, but he says it's not so bad. Kind of weird they're pushing a freshman in though. Isn't it illegal to join before 17?" "What would you do in the Army anyway?" Pamela asked derisively. "Who knows?" Angelina waved off. "Probably just sit at some desk or something. Guess even the Army needs someone making coffee and Xerox copies." "What do you mean 'gone'? How the hell do you lose track of someone in your own house?" the angry voice on the phone demanded. "It's not our fault!" John retorted back. "She had a brief psi-surge and we had to pull back before any information was compromised. And where the hell are those surveillance agents anyway? They're supposed to have a perimeter around her at all times, even at the house!" Gruber sighed on the other end of the telephone. Now wasn't the time to lose his temper. "We had to pull them back as well. According to the psychiatrist, F67 reported seeing visions of experiments that matched the original Project fifteen years ago." "Jesus..." John breathed. "From how far away?" "They've had to pull back almost 200 yards. Any closer and she's getting too many clues that'll start to fit together." "Isn't the drug supposed to prevent that?" Gruber winced and closed his eyes at the stinging remark. He knew this day was coming, but he didn't realize it'd be so soon. According to Angelina's last four medical exams, the psychotropic suppression drugs were having less and less effect. Her powers, which were growing at a phenomenal rate, were beginning to fight back. Which meant timing was critical; the longer she stayed outside observation, the greater the chance she'd miss her medication. If that happened too long, then keeping her ignorant to the truth would soon be impossible. "Just stay where you are. Maybe she'll show up at home. If she does, then... I don't know... ground her or something. Keep her there until we can get a new set of drugs into her that'll keep her down." Gruber then hung up the phone and turned to Raintree. "Well, your so-called intelligence agents just let a fourteen-year-old girl climb out a window and right through the dragnet in the neighborhood." Raintree nodded in acknowledgement. "Unfortunately, maintaining a line-of-sight surveillance on someone who's showing broad-spectrum psionic ability is nearly impossible without giving away your position." His voice turned almost musing. "It's enough to make me proud of what she's going to accomplish once she's actually trained." Gruber arched his eyebrow dubiously. "Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves? The school councilors we've arranged to talk to her reported she's not interested. If anything, they're pushing her away, and her so-called parents aren't really doing any better." "No....no, you're right. It's time to bring her in. I'll have the Clancy's get her out of that public school and enroll her in a special 'prep-school'. I need you to buy us another few weeks or so with a new compound of drugs. With the right...addictive properties, I'm sure she can be persuaded to join any organization that keeps her supplied with... what she needs," Raintree concluded with a sinister smile. The bouncer looked at the ID card dubiously then handed it back to Peter. "Sorry kid; can't let you in." "Hey come on, it's just a couple of years difference," Peter protested. "I don't care," the bouncer replied and crossed his arms in an intimidating manner. "And even if that's so, your friends have a few more years to go." In the back, Angelina began to furrow her brow. The closer they had come to the club, the louder the voices in her head were becoming. Now that they were in the foyer, she could almost feel the sweaty, bumping and grinding on the dance floor among the hundreds of people inside. She began to shiver as she felt like she was drowning in a storm of emotions and images. "You OK Angie?" Madelyn asked. "I'm..." Angelina struggled to speak as she shook her head. "...think I'm going to faint..." "Is there a problem here?" the club maitre 'd asked as he walked up. "No problem Mr. Robinson," the bouncer assured. "I was just going tell these kids we don't allow under aged." "Can we at least get a glass of water?" Madelyn asked. "My friend's not feeling well and she needs to take her medication." "Ahh... well, then it sucks to be you," the bouncer coldly replied. Angelina cringed with pain. The voices, colors and flashes in her head were becoming unbearable. She could feel the arrogance of the bouncer, the smug confidence of the maitre 'd. She felt the concern from her friends, the whispers of hundreds of people all around her, wondering what was going on. She needed to get her medicine and quickly before she went mad. "I... need..." The bouncer looked at Angelina with a condescending smirk, and then stopped. Something about her voice, her eyes seemed to grip his mind. Without realizing what was happening, he felt his will drain completely away. "I...need you...to let us in," Angelina whispered. The bouncer nodded. "Yes, of course," he replied meekly. Angelina straightened up. For some reason, her head had cleared completely. Something inside her made her feel euphoric and giddy. "You're...going to waive the cover," she said softly to the maitre 'd. "Certainly," the maitre 'd said obediently as he nodded. "Please follow me. We can seat you right away." Angelina blinked as the maitre 'd grabbed six menus and ordered the wait staff to prepare a table. The moment of clarity had vanished, to be replaced by the familiar flashes and voices in her head. Peter, Madelyn and the others stared at her with stunned silence. "H-how'd you do that?" Madelyn asked with awe. "I.... I don't know. I didn't do anything," Angelina said. The group made their way to a medium-sized table. All around them, the throbbing sounds of music thundered throughout the club. The floor was filled with dancers of various sizes and skill. Tables were arranged throughout the room with drinks and food being served. When the group sat down, a waitress came to their table. "What do you kids want?" the waitress asked. "A round of beers and a pitcher of margarita?" Ralph asked. "Um... I'm going to need to see some ID," the waitress said sternly. Like you kids are legal aged... I'm not losing my job over this... Angelina shook her head to try and clear it. She could almost hear the waitress' thoughts and doubts in her head, along with an imagined scene where the management was reminding the wait staff to check IDs on drinks. "You won't lose your job over this," she said softly. "Please bring us some drinks." The waitress seemed to shiver slightly, and then blinked. "Drinks coming up." "Wow...you go Angie," Michael said. "So when did you learn the Jedi mind trick?" "You are such a nerd Mike," Pamela said. "Hey, I'm just saying..." Angelina shook her head. "It's not me; she's probably just ... busy or something." "You're going to be OK?" Madelyn asked. "This music can't be doing your head any good." "It comes and goes. My head seemed to clear just now. I don't know why." "Well, I hope you feel better," Peter offered. "Maybe you'll do better after having a drink?" Angelina nodded. "Maybe a lemonade. Or a big chocolate shake or something..." "Angie, what about your diabetes?" Madelyn asked discreetly. "Aren't you supposed to be watching your sugars or something like that?" "You know, it's weird... now that I think of it, my folks never talk about that. I mean, they go nuts making sure I never miss my medicine, but they don't care about soda or ice-cream." "That is weird," Michael added. "I have an uncle who has diabetes and he can't touch a cookie to save his life." "Thank God for small favors I guess," Pamela said as the waitress returned with a tray of beverages. "Well, here's to the future, and the parents who meddle in them," Peter offered as a toast. The gang of delinquents watched the crowd of dancing fools with the eyes of predators. They had been given strict instructions to bring their prey in without harming them, which chaffed them badly. What was the fun in hunting if they couldn't rough them up some? But for the $2000 they were being offered, they were willing to make sacrifices. They could always buy their entertainment later for that kind of scratch. "There," one of the gang members said as he watched a girl taking a pill with her margarita. He grinned with satisfaction as he nudged his comrades for attention. The gang leader glanced at her and whistled. What a babe... too bad she was wearing such cheap prudish clothes. Put a tight leather mini-skirt, a tube-top and some stiletto heels on her and she'd own the dance floor for sure. That is, if they didn't get to her first. "She's a druggie," the first gang member nodded. "I watched her taking a pop just a second ago." "I dunno man..." the second ganger offered. "Seems like a waste to give this gorgeous hottie to Mr. T. Maybe we should keep her for ourselves and get him a fatty instead." The gang's leader mulled the notion before shaking it off. "Nah, if we did that, we'd be, like, having too much fun to get anything done. And we really need the money." "She's getting up," the first guy reported. "Heading to the lady's room it looks like." "Let's go guys," the leader ordered. One of the gang members had a rag soaked in a harsh chemical, whose strong smell was lost in the smoky air of the dance floor. One thing was for sure though; the leader told himself. He'd ask Mr. T for extra for this one. Angelina drifted towards the rest room with the crowds of people, the smoky air and the pounding music all mixed into a thick heavy haze that blanketed her mind. She didn't understand what had happened earlier that evening. When she had ordered drinks from the waitress, the voices in her head seemed to momentarily ceased, and was replaced by a warm soothing euphoria. For a few minutes, she had never felt so good. It had been the same when she convinced the club bouncer and maitre 'd to let her friends in the club. Unfortunately, the bliss didn't last. The voices, flashes and images returned to her mind with a vengeance. It was like every single person in the club had decided to shout all their most intimate and detailed secrets for all to hear. Although she had come to despise the fog her pills brought her, she needed them now. Once she took one however, she began to feel more dizzy than normal, even to the point of nausea. She wondered if the alcohol from what was her first serious drink was to blame, but it really didn't matter. Right now, she needed to get to a sink before she lost her lunch. "You OK?" Angelina turned to the voice and tried to focus. Her vision was cloudy and her mind felt confused. It looked like a couple of guys were coming to her and leading her away. Were they taking her to the rest room? "Too much to drink?" Angelina tried shaking her head, but couldn't move. Her arms were being pinned; what was happening? Before she could offer another word in protest, she felt a rag clamp over her face, assaulting her nose with a harsh chemical smell. The last thing she heard was the giggling of boys before everything went black. Ethan Taylor watched with mixed motions as the men loaded and carried the young girl onto the waiting gurney. So this was what he had stooped to; associating with the lowest forms of human scum and kidnapping children. It wasn't like he had a choice; his cancer didn't leave him many options and his time was limited. He had to do this, he told himself. No one was going to get hurt. "You sure no one followed you guys?" "Told you Mr. T, we got it under control. She's a druggie. No one misses their kind." Ethan grimaced as he handed a wad of bills to the street punks. No doubt they'd use the money to buy drugs, but the less he knew the better for him. "Just make sure no one follows you." He paused, and then shook his head. "There may be...more work for you guys soon." "No problem Mr. T." Ethan sighed with exasperation. "I told you guys never to call me that. Do I have a Mohawk on my head or what?" "What Mohawk?" Ethan blinked with disbelief before shrugging it off. Christ, he was getting old. And young people these days don't read a lick of history. "Where'd Angie go, guys?" Madelyn said with concern. "I thought she said she was headed to the restroom?" Peter replied. "Yeah, but she's been gone a while." Madelyn looked at Ralph and Pamela, both who shook their heads and shrugged. "She gets these dizzy spells from time to time. I'm going to go check on her." Madelyn walked towards the rest room, threading her way past the crowded dance floor. Reaching the rest room, she checked the stalls one by one, knocking on the ones that were occupied and receiving replies that varied from polite to coarse. But no Angelina. Where the hell could she have gone? Madelyn then made her way outside the club. The bouncer nodded at her as she walked past. It still amazed her how Angelina got them into the club. Normally she was so hazy from her medicine; there were days she had a hard time stringing a coherent sentence together, but not tonight. The way she... commanded them to let them in; the bouncer had went from bully to groveling sycophant in almost a blink of the eye. She put that thought out of her mind as she looked out in the parking lot. Did Angelina have a reoccurrence of her illness? Maybe she was passed out in Peter's car. As she walked back to the suburban, she saw a pair of uniformed police officers approach her. "Excuse me, Madelyn Packard?" "How do you know my name?" Madelyn asked nervously. "We need to ask you a few questions." "Um... ah... I haven't been drinking..." Sure you haven't, the cop's knowing expression replied without a word. "It's about your friend Angelina Clancy. Her parents are reporting her missing." Madelyn looked away for a moment. For some reason, the Clancys had always kept a ridiculously tight leash on Angelina all her life. It was one thing to care about her, but they were always downright paranoid, never failing to check on her almost every hour outside of school. Angelina needed her space, just like any other kid, and she didn't want to ruin that. But calling the cops though was a new one, even for the Clancys and she didn't know how to react. "Well...I don't know. I mean, she was with me earlier, but I don't know where she is now. She's probably around here somewhere." The police officer handed Madelyn a card. "If you see her, please let her know her folks are really worried about her and that she should return home immediately. If she needs a ride, have her call us at this number and someone will come get her as quickly as possible." The police officer pulled out a radio. "Subject was here. Start the pattern and expand from this location." Madelyn watched with some fascination as the police office got back into his patrol car and pulled out onto the streets. Behind him, she counted no less than five other patrol cars, along with two SWAT vans. What the hell...? she thought. She would have thought a Kennedy was kidnapped or something. How the hell did the Clancys pull that kind of attention? Ethan Taylor tried his best to keep his attention on his test procedures, with his eyes occasionally being drawn almost irresistibly towards his bound and blindfolded test subject. He had done this several times to a variety of test subjects but never seen one this photogenic before. Most of his previous test subjects, sadly, were emaciated or suffering from a variety of drug-related health issues but not this one. He wondered where his hirelings managed to snag this looker, but quickly put it out of his mind. For one, it wasn't comfortable to dwell on them as human beings and two he had more important concerns. Ethan rubbed his forehead and winced a little as his thoughts drifted about his situation. His latest tests confirmed that his cancer was still growing. The Syn-blood in his veins had already earned him a considerable sum in the form of an advanced retainer. Although it was helping to buy him a little more time, he still needed to find a solution. His body wouldn't be able to take the strain of the synthetic blood for long. To that end, he needed to continue his plan to gather more genetic samples to correlate into his database. He preferred to get the samples from voluntary subjects, but sometimes he didn't have that choice. He sighed, as he made sure his test subject was prepped to collect her genetic samples. It was so frustrating. The very condition that opened up his mind to new concepts and astonishing discoveries would also be his death. He needed to focus; his genius was both the cause and solution to his condition. It was up to him to find a way out. "Initial setup complete," the computer replied in its tinny voice synthesizer. "Pulse 54 bpm, respiration normal, blood pressure 110/76, body temperature 98.6F..." Ethan glanced through his test subject's purse while his computer did the initial diagnosis. Angelina Clancy, high school freshman, lived in the suburbs of the city. He shook his head; what was she doing at a bar anyway? Dumb kids these days, always messing up their lives. But right now, he needed them to find a solution to his own problems. Angelina gave off a slight hmm as Ethan drew off a couple test tubes of blood. "Don't be afraid, Angelina. This isn't what it looks like. I'm not here to hurt you," Ethan said with as soothing a voice he could muster. "I just need to take some samples for a couple of tests." "What's going on?" she asked weakly. "Who's there?" "Trust me Angelina, the less you know about me, the better. But I promise nothing's going to happen to you. Once we're done here, I'll let you go." "Why are you doing this?" "It's a... genetics issue; kind of complicated. But I'll have you back home in a couple hours, so don't worry." "Ethan...?" she whispered. Ethan paused and turned around slowly. "What did you say?" "Your name is Ethan right? This has something to do with your cancer or something like that." Ethan froze before shaking it off. Maybe she overheard his hirelings talking about him. If so, he would have to remind them again to keep their mouths shut. He inserted the test tube into the computer and waited for the results. A beep from the computer got Ethan's attention. He looked at the screen and frowned. "What the hell...?" Midazolam? Lorazepam? Given his unsavory hirelings, he was expecting to see various amounts of cocaine, heroin or other street drugs in her system, but he had never heard of these. Were there some new street drugs out there that he didn't know about? He pulled up a separate computer and typed in a search in his medical database. "Midazolam," the computer replied. "Class 4 experimental psychotropic compound; chemical breakdown: 8-chloro-6-(2-fluorophenyl)-1-methyl-4H-Imidazo(1,5-a)(1,4)benzodiazepine. Used to suppress short-term burst theta-wave brain activity. Lorazepam; Class 4 experimental psychotropic compound, chemical breakdown: 9-chloro-6-(2-chlorophenyl)-4-hydroxy-2,5-diazabicyclo[5.4.0]undeca-5,8,10,12-tetraen-3-one. Used to suppress alpha-theta wave brain activity. Flurazepam; Class 5 experimental psychotropic compound; chemical breakdown: 9-chloro-2-(2-diethylaminoethyl)-6-(2-fluorophenyl)-2,5-diazabicyclo[5.4.0]undeca-5,8,10,12-tetraen-3-one. Used to suppress high-order psionic wave brain..." "Holy...shit..." Ethan whispered as the computer continued its litany of chemical breakdown. He looked at Angelina's purse again, this time searching much more intently. All her personal information looked plain as vanilla, but something was seriously wrong here. He found a set of pills labeled "Insulin", but it had to be a forgery. Looking at her blood work again, he confirmed that she was dosed with a whole range of powerful experimental compounds, most of which couldn't have been available anywhere outside of top-secret military labs. Ethan forced himself to calm down and tried to piece things together. Angelina looked and for the most part, acted like a healthy 14-year-old girl. Her home address wasn't that far from the city and wasn't near any publicly known government facility. Of course that didn't really mean anything; the government could set up shop at a 7-11 if it was inclined to do so. But why? She wore a Medic-alert bracelet for diabetes and carried around a set of pills labeled Insulin. But her blood sugar showed no signs of diabetes; instead, she was dosed with a combination of psychotropic drugs that looked more like something someone would use to suppress a high-order telepath or psychic. She knew his name, he suddenly realized. And his cancer condition. But if she could sense that even under this level of dosage, then unsuppressed, she would be... "Angelina, can I ask you a few things?" "What do you want?" Angelina asked warily. "This is going to sound silly but... do you have psychic powers?" That elicited a giggle. "Look, I don't know what this is about, but two things I do know. One, I don't date dumb jocks, and two, I don't have super powers." "Uh-huh. These pills in your purse; how many of these do you take a day?" She shrugged. "At my last physical, they told me to start taking four-a-day." Ethan quickly did the math in his head. That came up to nearly 2000mg a day; more than enough to kill a normal person. That meant there was something about Angelina that was rapidly burning the drugs out of her system. "Who is 'they'?" "Doctors...my parents...even some of my teachers, now that I think about it. Pretty much everyone I guess." "Everyone...?" Ethan reached for his phone and dialed a number as what he hoped was just paranoia gripped his heart. He was suddenly seized with an immediate need to find out where his hirelings found this girl and to have them double-check to make sure they weren't being followed. The phone rang twice before he hung up; no, better he cut himself off right away. He pondered his options for a moment before a flashing banner on the television caught his eye. "...and police are asking the public for any help they may have on the identity of the perpetrators. Once again, four men have been found dead from what apparently was a drug deal gone wrong. Eyewitnesses describe the scene as execution-styled with minimal signs of a struggle..." "Oh my God...." Ethan muttered as he saw the police pencil sketches of the victims. Earlier that evening, he had just paid them a couple thousand dollars. What was already growing concerns escalated quickly into all out fear. What the hell had he stumbled into? He fumbled for his coffee cup, but his trembling fingers failed to grab it. He quickly began shutting down his equipment. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge. "Wh-what are you doing?" Angelina asked as she felt Ethan fumbling with the manacles holding her to the observation table. "Angelina, who's after you?" Ethan asked with concern. "N-no one. I haven't done anything." Ethan gauged Angelina's reaction; she seemed sincere, albeit understandably nervous. Was she not in on the conspiracy? He finished unlocking the manacles. "Take off. You're free to go." "But... what about your samples?" "We don't have time! We've both got to get out of here!" The squad cars surrounded the warehouse to establish a perimeter while the vans disgorged a squad of soldiers. The squad leader scanned the area with the help of infrared goggles. "Two heat sources inside, some powered equipment, no sign of any weaponry," the squad leader reported. "We've got spikes on the windows. Squads in position," another soldier reported. In front of him, a bank of monitors came to life, showing pictures of the interior of the warehouse. "Alpha team has tasers and tranq guns ready for the package. Bravo team will handle crowd control." With good old-fashioned bullets, he didn't have to say. The squad leader took a moment to watch the video to get an assessment of the situation. Pretty simple setup, he thought. They had orders to bring F67 in with minimal damage possible, and by any means necessary. Anyone who might know the full scope of the Project was to be eliminated. He picked up the communicator. "Now hear this...full breach...full breach!" Ethan Taylor cursed as the main door to the warehouse burst open with a loud explosion, followed by the earsplitting detonation of flash-bang grenades. Above him, the skylight windows shattered and heavy ropes dropped to the floor. Nearly blind and deaf, he scrambled back to the console for cover. He felt a pair of bullets clip his shoulder painfully as he made it under the desk. He had to reach his escape hatch as quickly as possible or cancer would be the least of his problems. Angelina screamed in panic at the cacophony of soldiers, explosions, and guns filled the room. She was frozen in terror and completely ignorant on what to do next. "Package sighted, we have the shot!" "Take her down!" Angelina cringed as soldiers emerged from the billowing smoke and pointed rifles at her. Was this it; the end? She closed her eyes and threw up her arms. She was too scared to meet death with her eyes open. In her mind, she could almost feel the electrical-tingle of the taser darts and liquid-filled tranquilizer darts as they flew through the air towards her. Ethan watched the soldiers advance on Angelina from behind his console. He recognized the rifles as being tasers and tranquilizers. So they wanted her alive. The ones surrounding him however looked like they were armed with conventional rifles, which meant he wasn't so lucky. He looked back over towards Angelina and blinked. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He thought he saw the projectiles deflect away from Angelina. At that range, the soldiers couldn't possibly have missed. "Angelina, get down!" Ethan shouted. Poor kid looked scared as hell. At the sound of her name, she managed to crawl over towards him. "Who are they?" Angelina asked with fear. "I don't know," Ethan replied. But whoever they are, they want you pretty damned bad and are willing to kill anyone to get you back. "Targets are together," the soldiers reported. "Alpha team, move in, Bravo, fall back and hold position," the leader ordered. "We have the targets," the lead soldiers reported and took aim. "Stop!" Angelina shouted as the squad of men froze. "You... you don't want to do this...!" She panted as she gripped her forehead. "You want to put the guns down and walk away...!" Ethan watched in eerie morbid fascination. The men lowered their rifles and froze like statues on Angelina's command. He also realized that the air was filled with hails of bullets, taser and tranquilizer darts that had slowed to a stop, still spinning from the rifling. That the bullets would have certainly ended his life made his continue breathing all that more remarkable. He turned and saw Angelina's trembling face as unfamiliar concentration was etched on her face. So his assessment was right after all. "Shit...!" the squad leader muttered as he watched the battle plans falling apart. "Gas the whole area!" A group of gas grenades flew into the room and exploded into large plumes of noxious vapors. The paralyzed soldiers in the first wave collapsed from the gas as the outer group of soldiers donned their gas masks. For a moment, the inside of the warehouse was obscured by clouds before the gas began to thin out into the night air. Ethan grabbed Angelina by the arm and led her away past the paralyzed soldiers. If they could reach the panel on the floor, they could both get to the city sewer system and get away. Around them, he saw the gas seem to drift away from them with purpose. Was Angelina doing this all by herself, he wondered? If she could do all this while under a heavy dose of psychotropics, then that would go a long way why someone would come after her like this. "Y-you're hurt," Angelina said as she saw Ethan's shoulder throbbing with blood. Instinctively, she reached for the open wound. "Don't...touch..." Ethan gasped as he grabbed Angelina's wrist. "My blood's...volatile once it leaves my body. It's not safe to touch." Angelina nodded and trembled. She looked at the wound and concentrated again. Ethan cringed with pain as he felt the bullets slowly moving inside his body. A second later, the first bullet extracted itself from his flesh, and then followed by the second one. Ethan's muscles visibly relaxed as the bullets were removed. He looked at Angelina and shook his head. "Next thing you know... you'll be dating dumb jocks..." The squad leader and the remaining soldiers scouted the area and shook their heads. What had started as a well-planned assault has disintegrated into chaos. Half their men were still paralyzed and had to be carried back to the van, with no way of knowing how long their trance would last. Worst of all, they lost control of the package. The Project senior personnel wouldn't be happy to hear that. Time was no longer their ally; they had to require the package and regain control as soon as possible. The consequences for failure could very well spell the end of the world as they knew it. "That pipe goes straight to the water reservoir," Ethan pointed to one of the large passageways. "Are you going to be OK?" Angelina asked. "I'll be fine," he said, not sure if he meant it. He still had a race against his disease to win. "But I'm afraid you've got bigger problems ahead." "Who were those guys anyway?" "No idea. But they weren't a street gang, that's for sure. Soldiers probably." "Why would soldiers be after you?" Ethan stopped and looked at Angelina. "Me? I was just in the way. Those troops were after you. And I'm pretty sure you can figure out why." Angelina stared at the filthy floor in silence. The combat had been so quick, she wasn't sure what happened and had hoped it was just another weird dream; a delusion brought about by her pills and alcohol. But the surge of energy that was still flowing through her head shattered that illusion. She had to find out the truth. One way or another, she had to go home. |