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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Lyrics by Kamlah, Annie Lennox, and Duran Duran
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You take a frog's eye and give it to a man… Pleased with your cyborg proudly you stand…
Within the bowels of the newly restored sub-level, the sub-level beneath the known sub-levels, dark figures filed into a massive, cold, cement-walled room.
Silently, a strange–looking man slipped in with the Black Coats and took a seat in front of the growing congregation. He was deathly pale like the others, but his distinguishing features were his colorless eyes and snow-white hair.
Each creature uniformly and tidily marched to his appropriate row and settle into his seat without so much as a word or a glance at the others with him. But one grew restless…
This glorious madness… Makes you believe you're all powerful…
“What is going to be done?” The rebel demanded suddenly. “This situation is dangerous, correct?”
A deafening screech cut off the bulk of his tirade as enormous steel doors at the head of the room struggled to open after years of unuse. By the time the noise subsided, the dissenter was in a frenzy. He convulsed and spasmed like one possessed and frothed at the mouth.
A grunt of disapproval rippled through the assembled mass. Those around him drew back as though he was contagious. One brave Black Coat pushed through to the insurgent and removed an ebony-filled syringe from his overcoat. With a swift and practiced gesture, he plunged the needle into the base of the troubled one’s skull and injected the fluid. At length, the seizures passed, his body calmed, and he returned to his normal state of harmony with the others.
Another commotion drew attention away from the first. Another Black Coat forced his way to the front to shout his concerns.
“What about the Injecting?!” he shrieked at them. “It is my responsibility to arrange this for all members! We must resolve this issue immediately. All members must be returned to the fold!”
The albino man rose slowly from his seat and faced the disrupter.
This inhumane robot becomes a heathen god… Will be idolized and takes all control…
The Black Coat stuttered and choked through the rest of his inane speech, finally silenced under Mr. White’s lethal glare. He twitched with the beginnings of the spasms that had just rocked his comrade moments before. He started to say more, stopped, and eventually sat down.
“This has gone too far!” pronounced the Black Coat who had given the injection. The syringe was still clutched in his hand. “Tell Dr. Raines- he’ll know what to do!”
“No!” protested another, rising to his feet. “Tell him nothing! Not until we know more!”
“What is going on here!!!!”
Spreads over the planet and infects us all… With this evil act the main race will be and too late resisted by you or by me…
The raspy voice rang out from the front of the room.
Silence and fear fell over the assembled. They knew their murmurings had been heard and they were afraid. The last Black Coat to have spoken out of line hunkered down in his seat as though trying to melt into it.
The grand doors were now fully opened and completely silhouetted in its frame was the ghastly figure of Mr. Raines- Dr. Raines to them. With cart creaking, he took center stage upon an elevated floor. Like them, he was dressed in a black suit.
He eyed the crowd with an artic glare. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“Who will go first?” he demanded, scanning the congregation for a volunteer. “Let’s get on with this!”
Mr. White stepped forward to address him.
“We have serious problem,” he said flatly. “The girl and Mr. Lyle continue to evade us.”
“I am aware of that,” Mr. Raines informed him, greatly disappointed in the man’s report.
“There is more…”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Lyle is growing suspicious. You know he is not one to be trusted- his loyalty lies where it suits him best… If he should guess the nature of the Project, it could be disastrous… he is still not controllable.”
“And the girl?”
“The girl, yes, she is still easily controlled. However, she is in Mr. Lyle’s custody. We fear they may discover their association with one another. If that occurs, we will loose them both.”
“This can’t be allowed to happen,” Raines muttered. “What else?”
A peculiar smile oozed over Mr. White’s visage. “As you well know, Miss Parker is in the City.”
Raines nodded with interest.
“We have reason to suspect that the Pretender is also there and that Miss Parker is aware of it. We also have reason to believe that she is not pursuing him…”
Raines said nothing for a long moment. When he looked up again a malevolent, triumphant grin darkened his features.
“Do go on…”
Cloned Insanity…
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A shadow darted passed the base of a convoluted staircase.
She came to a screeching halt as she ran into another dead-end. Leaning over, she rested her hands on her knees, trembling hard as she tried to catch her breath.
She was out of the underworld that had abruptly ended in an abandoned building. There had been no Black Coats since her escape, but also no Lyle. She didn’t know if she should stay put and wait for him or if she should keep moving.
The walls around her loomed high above, reaching forever sky it seemed. The roof had caved in long ago and now revealed the glory of the heavens.
She had to rest, there was no way round it. But numbly, she began to move again. Absently, she fumbled through the pockets of both her jacket and jeans. Her fingertips grazed the revolver and swiftly withdrew.
The reality that she had shot and most likely killed a man rattled her to her core. Her mind wrestled with the facts, unable to comprehend and desperate to conceal the memory.
Memories…
A few had surfaced… about Lyle… about those men following them. Mia recalled the black-cloaked creatures had trailed her before and that Lyle had come to her rescue previously as well.
She sighed and removed a handful of newspaper clippings from her jeans. Her brow furrowed as she sorted through the collection. A tattered photograph escaped the bunch and drifted to the ground. She reached for it and caught it before it landed in a puddle.
The photograph was of a young man and woman in one of those cheesy department store photo studio poses. The woman was on the pudgy side, but no doubt a beauty with a toothy smile, bright gray eyes, cinnamon hair, and a light complexion. The man had a distinctly Italian look. His thick black hair was gelled and spiky and he had a strapping build. His eyes were the same gray as the girl’s- almost colorless in the center and rimmed in charcoal.
She turned the picture over and found an inscription scrawled on the back in sharp, tight penmanship:
Love you, sis!
Your sibs, -Mario and Maria
She turned her attention to the newspaper articles and a chill ran through her. Every clipping was about the same topic- murder.
The headlines lashed out at her:
Manhunt for City Slayer Continues! City Slayer Strikes Again- Seventh Murder in Seven Weeks! New Detective Says City Slayer Female! City Slayer on the Run!
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An old woman peered out of the window of her home at the stranger on her doorstep. She cracked the door, not bothering to take off the chain lock, and eyed him suspiciously.
“Che cosa?” She waited impatiently for him to answer.
The man wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose. He was terribly jittery after hearing of his secretary’s murder. He shivered involuntarily.
“My name is Viktor Puccini,” he said, unsure of what the woman had said to him. “I am here to see a Mario Micelli.”
The woman stared warily at the nervous little man who kept swiping at his brow.
“Chi è al portello, Nonna?”
The voice of a young man caused the woman to shut the door completely.
“È un medico, Mario.” Puccini could still hear the woman as she spoke to the boy.
A tall, well-built young man in his mid-twenties reopened the door.
“Are you Mario?” Puccini asked.
The young man’s gray eyes flashed.
“Whaddya want?”
“I’m here about your sister,” he paused at the stony look on Mario’s face. The doctor faltered, then remember that the youth had two sisters. “About Amelia.”
Mario flinched. “You know where she is?”
“Not exactly. May I come in?”
Grudgingly, he moved aside and allowed the other man to enter. While the doctor wiped the soles of his shoes on the door mat, Mario turned to his grandmother and spoke to her in Italian.
The old woman’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together over her chest.
“Il mio Mia? Il mio prezioso, Mia caro?” Tears welled up in her eyes.
Mario gently took her arm, speaking to her in soothing tones as he led her to another room. When he returned, he ushered Puccini into the living room.
The doctor seated himself on the sofa. Mario chose to stand.
“I’m Amelia’s doctor,” he explained hastily. “She was coming to see me on a regular basis- did you know about this?”
He shrugged. “I knew she was having some problems- she said she needed some help getting her feeling sorted out. I didn’t know she was actually getting any help.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
He shrugged coolly. “About seven weeks or so ago, I guess.”
Puccini leaned forward and moistened his lips.
“Mario, I’m here because I believe that Amelia is in trouble- I’m sure exactly what kind of trouble yet, but I know it is imperative that we find her.”
The young man frown and distress shone in his eyes.
“You know why she stopped calling?” he asked.
The doctor shook his head. “When I last spoke to her, she was very confused. She seemed lost.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I mean lost in a very literal sense. She’s lost herself. She has no concept of who she is.”
“So you’re saying my baby sister is crazy.” He sounded angry.
“No, no,” Puccini corrected quickly. “She suffers from frequent dissociative fugue.”
“What?”
“A person in a dissociative fugue may suddenly leave their previous living arrangements and forget or be confused about their identity and they may adopt a new one. They are able to perform well enough to survive under the new identity. These episodes are generally caused by a severe stressor and are time limited to a few days, but may last months. When the fugue ends, the person is unable to recall what occurred during this state.” He sighed. “What caused this in Amelia, I don’t know. The important thing is that we find her.”
Puccini rose to his feet. “Amelia may try to contact you. You must convince her to tell you where she is, and then contact me immediately.”
He handed a business card over to Mario who took it apprehensively.
“Don’t try to reason with her,” he warned. “Let me do that. Do you understand how very important it is that you call me?”
The young man nodded sadly.
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Broots was not happy about the mission they were on. In truth, he wasn’t sure why Miss Parker had insisted upon he and Sydney coming with her while she was on a personal vendetta. He sighed wearily.
A door slammed shut.
Broots jumped and frantically shoved the picture of his daughter back into his pocket.
“You ready?” Parker cast him a sidelong glance as she pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open.
“Y-y-yeah.”
She held the phone to her ear and gave whatever she happened to be looking at a scathing glare.
“How long do I have to keep him on the line?”
Broots finished the configuration of the electronic equipment before him.
“I need at least five minutes, maybe more. It depends on how strong the signal is.”
She turned her back on him as her target answered her call.
“Hello, Lyle,” she hissed.
“Parker?” He sounded confused as though she had just awoken him.
“Did I wake up Baby?” she sneered.
“No,” his tone quickly regained it usual arrogance. “I’m just surprised to hear from you, Sis. Thought you’d be hot on Jarod’s trail right now… Or did you conveniently lose him… Again.”
Parker’s jaw unhinged slightly, she was only momentarily pushed off-balanced.
“What exactly are you implying?”
“Nothing, Sis. Nothing at all,” he paused and Parker could just see the gloat on his face. “It just seems to me that Jarod has slipped through your fingers a few too many times. Granted, I never caught him, but then again, I didn’t chase him as long as you have. After all these years, I would think Jarod would slip up and you’d get a little closer.”
There was something distinctly vicious in the suspension of words between them. Parker all but stopped breathing as she tried to quell the rage that was boil inside her.
“Then again,” Lyle jeered, “Maybe you have…”
“Are you accusing me of intentionally letting him go?”
“I’m accusing you of aiding the enemy, yes. Daddy would have a coronary if he found out what his little “angel” doing, now wouldn’t he?”
“You wouldn’t,” Parker’s tone was low and menacing. Broots swallowed and hard; he could practically feel the hatred radiating out of her. “You have no evidence of that. I-“
“So why are you so quick to defend yourself. If what I say bears no truth, why get so worked up over it… Sis?”
Broots didn't dare to look at her as though making eye contact would turn him into stone.
“I got it,” he whimpered, not sure if she heard him or not.
As enraged as she was, Parker’s voice was terriblely cool and calm as she issued her final warning to him.
“You know, Lyle, I sincerely hope that your little Project doesn’t kill you before I get the chance to.”
Broots was ready for her when she finally turned back to him.
“I-I-I’ve got his, um, his location,” Broots told her. She was leaning over his shoulder now with her cheek to close to his ear. The entire right side of his face felt on fire and he was immensely uncomfortable with her so close.
“Tell me.”
“He’s in, in a parking garage about ele-eleven blocks from here.”
“Get Sydney.”
Broots froze.
“Are you deaf?” she snapped. “Now!”
Anxiously, Broots scurried to comply.
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The evil glint of dagger held her attention fast. She cowered in the corner as her attacker advanced on her. Death’s maniacal grin flashed from beneath long, amber hair.
This couldn’t be happening… and yet it was….
The child she had let into her home, the sweet blessed child who was so affectionate and eager to please, had morphed into a homicidal sociopath in a matter of hours.
The dagger rose high in the air, poised to strike. With swift precision, it fell…
She awoke in a panic, shaking from the night terrors that so often plagued her. Sweat drenched the cloth closest to her body.
Minutes passed. Slowly, she regained her senses as the dream images vanished. At length she could stand and Mia staggered into the street, searching for some sort of peace.
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Yeah it's the king of nothing and the queen of rage …
She watched him for a long while, studying his curious behavior. He darted in and out of the parked cars in a strange zigzagging pattern while constantly glancing about as though he were looking for something… or looking to stay away from something. Finally, he stopped and fell back against a wall- he looked spent and exhausted. It was odd to see him look so vulnerable.
He began to move again with a sudden start. He was staring over his shoulder as he jogged forward and never saw her coming.
A closed fist connected with his jaw just as he was turning his head. The force and shock fell him to the floor.
Lyle stared up into the hate-filled eyes of his sister.
With a pile of confusion upon a glittering stage…
“What is your problem!?” he returned her glare with equal intensity.
“You,” she spat. She drew her gun and aimed it at his heart.
He rolled his eyes in disparagement. “Put that thing away, Parker. You’re not going to use it.”
She stared at him in incredulity of his audacity as he stood up. Her gun remained level with his chest.
“Are you really that arrogant or are you just that stupid?”
Lyle smirked at her. “Come on, Sis, you shot me once before at close range and missed. So I don’t have much faith that you’re going to kill me this time around.”
“I didn’t miss, moron,” she returned, “Cockroaches are just hard to kill.”
“Really, Parker,” he straightened his tie and smoothed his rumpled jacket. “I don’t have time for this.”
He began to walk away.
The gun fired.
You know we never did anything to make ourselves feel proud …
Lyle spun around wide-eyed and startled.
“That was a warning shot,” Parker snapped, stepping closer to him.
“You really are crazy!” His eyes narrowed and he turned fully to her, holding his arms out to the side.
“Shoot me now,” he dared. “Come on, do it. You’re so bent on killing me- so get it over with.”
“I’ve have questions I want answered before I send you to your Maker.”
“You and your questions,” he said scornfully. “You know if you spent less time asking and more time doing, Jarod would have been caught long ago.” Lyle was not a stupid man- he had a reason for infuriating her further.
“Shut up!” she nearly screamed at him. “Tell me where the Seventh Member is!”
“Now if I knew that, do you really think I’d be wandering around a parking garage looking for her?”
Resentfully, she conceded that he had a point then she grinned at him triumphantly.
“I see I’m not the only one who keeps loosing their Projects.”
“Please, Parker,” Lyle inched closer to her. “I only lost her because of those interfering idiots in black. If they hadn’t gotten in my way, the Seventh Member would’ve been in the Triumvirate's hands days ago.”
“I’m sure.”
He saw her grip on the gun relax ever so slightly and then he saw his chance.
You know we never did anything so let's play it loud …
Parker was thrown to the ground as Lyle rushed at her so fast she didn’t have a chance to react. Her gun flew out her grasp and slid under a car. As quickly as he was upon her, he was off and retrieving the weapon.
With a wickedly victorious grin, Lyle stood over her with her own gun aimed at her head.
“Well, well, well, how ironic is this?”
Parker could do nothing but stare at him, still unnerved by how quickly she had lost control of the situation. He crouched down beside her and pressed the barrel of the gun into her temple.
“You know,” he said nonchalantly, “Today is your lucky day, Sis.”
The gun withdrew from her head as he stood back up.
“I have bigger fish than you to fry.”
He took the clip out of her gun and slipped it into his pocket, tossing the gun to the floor. Then he disappeared into the shadows.
Let's hear it for the King and Queen of America ...
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I know you're watching me every minute of the day… I've seen the signs and the looks and pictures that give your game away…
After being called into to investigate the murder of an assistant to Dr. Viktor Puccini, Jarod was on his way to nail Lyle. Surveillance cameras in the doctor’s building captured the entire murder in gory detail. From the tape, Jarod was able to tell that Lyle had removed files from the doctor’s office, but motive for the murder was unclear- of course Lyle never needed a motive.
Patient monitoring of the surveillance cameras in surrounding areas had paid off when Lyle emerged in a parking garage, not far from where Jarod was watching for him.
He stepped cautiously through the garage, watching every shadow. The gun he held felt awkward in his grip. No matter how much he handled a weapon, Jarod didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.
A noise of the other side of aisle he was in put him on guard. Stealthily, he crept toward the sound. He stopped and there was silence. He began to move again, and the noise returned. He was in the open now, in the center of a wide aisle.
Click, click, click…
Jared spun around with gun cocked and ready and found himself staring down the barrel of a 9mm.
Don't say you're easy on me, you're about as easy as a nuclear war…
Ice blue eyes stared him down. Jarod’s gun trembled in his confusion.
“Miss Parker?”
Her frown deepened- she was as stunned as he was.
“Jarod?”
Their guns slowly lowered. They gawked at each other in astounded quiet.
Parker spoke first.
“You idiot, what are you doing here?”
Jarod put his free hand on the back of his neck. “I tracked Lyle here.”
“Yeah, well, he’s gone,” she snapped in annoyance. The only thing more humiliating than loosing Lyle was loosing Lyle and being caught by Jarod.
“Oh.”
She glared at him- that look he was giving her, that lost puppy dog look, was irritating her immensely.
“Stop that!”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she muttered, putting her gun away.
Jarod looked at her curiously.
“That’s it?” he asked with a hint of merriment. “You have me cornered and you’re putting your gun away? You give up easily these days, Miss Parker.”
“Oh, shut up,” she snarled, patting her pockets in search of a cigarette. “Like you didn’t know my clip was empty.”
“Actually,” Jarod cocked his head to the side and smiled. “I didn’t. Thanks for the information.”
Parker swore under her breath. The day could not get any worse.
“It’s not like you to have an unloaded weapon,” he commented watching her light up. “What happened?”
“Lyle took it,” she said exhaling a ring of smoke. “It was the only clip I had on me.”
“What’s the deal with Lyle?” he asked. “I know why you hate him, but why go after him now?”
“Because he killed my r-“ she started to tell him that Lyle killed the rabbit he had given her, but she caught herself. “Because.”
Jarod stepped closer.
“I know what happened to the rabbit,” he confessed quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“How did you-???”
He simply shrugged.
“Did you get Lyle to tell you where Amelia is?” his tone turned grave.
Parker shook her head. “I got exactly nothing out of him.”
“I’m not surprised he wouldn't talk,” Jarod murmured. He looked at her both shyly and hopefully. “I need help,” he told her frankly. “I need your help…”
“Jarod,” Parker backed away from him. “Look, if anyone from the Centre found out about this, it’d all be over. So go away.” She looked away from him. “Go away now.”
He stepped closer. “Parker…”
Please, please tell me now… Is there something I should know? Is there something I should say…that would make you come my way…
“Don’t ask for the impossible, Jarod.”
“It’s not impossible for you to help me. You did before…”
“Stop it, Jarod!” She turned her back on him completely, but not before he saw the torn look on her face. “We’re not children anymore!”
“Please,” he sounded desperate in his pleading. She hated it- hated him for making her feel guilty. “Please help me and I can help you.”
She turned her head slightly. “It won’t change anything. I won’t stop chasing you.”
“I know.”
“I could betray you.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“Only until we find out what Project Heptagon is.”
“Only until we find out what Project Heptagon is,” he promised.
She heard the hope in his voice and it bothered her all the more. She began to walk away.
“Parker,” he called after her.
She stopped.
“Thank you.”
The Pretender watched as she disappeared into the shadows.
Do you feel the same 'cos you don't let it show…
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You take a frog's eye and give it to a man… Pleased with your cyborg proudly you stand…
Within the bowels of the newly restored sub-level, the sub-level beneath the known sub-levels, dark figures filed into a massive, cold, cement-walled room.
Silently, a strange–looking man slipped in with the Black Coats and took a seat in front of the growing congregation. He was deathly pale like the others, but his distinguishing features were his colorless eyes and snow-white hair.
Each creature uniformly and tidily marched to his appropriate row and settle into his seat without so much as a word or a glance at the others with him. But one grew restless…
This glorious madness… Makes you believe you're all powerful…
“What is going to be done?” The rebel demanded suddenly. “This situation is dangerous, correct?”
A deafening screech cut off the bulk of his tirade as enormous steel doors at the head of the room struggled to open after years of unuse. By the time the noise subsided, the dissenter was in a frenzy. He convulsed and spasmed like one possessed and frothed at the mouth.
A grunt of disapproval rippled through the assembled mass. Those around him drew back as though he was contagious. One brave Black Coat pushed through to the insurgent and removed an ebony-filled syringe from his overcoat. With a swift and practiced gesture, he plunged the needle into the base of the troubled one’s skull and injected the fluid. At length, the seizures passed, his body calmed, and he returned to his normal state of harmony with the others.
Another commotion drew attention away from the first. Another Black Coat forced his way to the front to shout his concerns.
“What about the Injecting?!” he shrieked at them. “It is my responsibility to arrange this for all members! We must resolve this issue immediately. All members must be returned to the fold!”
The albino man rose slowly from his seat and faced the disrupter.
This inhumane robot becomes a heathen god… Will be idolized and takes all control…
The Black Coat stuttered and choked through the rest of his inane speech, finally silenced under Mr. White’s lethal glare. He twitched with the beginnings of the spasms that had just rocked his comrade moments before. He started to say more, stopped, and eventually sat down.
“This has gone too far!” pronounced the Black Coat who had given the injection. The syringe was still clutched in his hand. “Tell Dr. Raines- he’ll know what to do!”
“No!” protested another, rising to his feet. “Tell him nothing! Not until we know more!”
“What is going on here!!!!”
Spreads over the planet and infects us all… With this evil act the main race will be and too late resisted by you or by me…
The raspy voice rang out from the front of the room.
Silence and fear fell over the assembled. They knew their murmurings had been heard and they were afraid. The last Black Coat to have spoken out of line hunkered down in his seat as though trying to melt into it.
The grand doors were now fully opened and completely silhouetted in its frame was the ghastly figure of Mr. Raines- Dr. Raines to them. With cart creaking, he took center stage upon an elevated floor. Like them, he was dressed in a black suit.
He eyed the crowd with an artic glare. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“Who will go first?” he demanded, scanning the congregation for a volunteer. “Let’s get on with this!”
Mr. White stepped forward to address him.
“We have serious problem,” he said flatly. “The girl and Mr. Lyle continue to evade us.”
“I am aware of that,” Mr. Raines informed him, greatly disappointed in the man’s report.
“There is more…”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Lyle is growing suspicious. You know he is not one to be trusted- his loyalty lies where it suits him best… If he should guess the nature of the Project, it could be disastrous… he is still not controllable.”
“And the girl?”
“The girl, yes, she is still easily controlled. However, she is in Mr. Lyle’s custody. We fear they may discover their association with one another. If that occurs, we will loose them both.”
“This can’t be allowed to happen,” Raines muttered. “What else?”
A peculiar smile oozed over Mr. White’s visage. “As you well know, Miss Parker is in the City.”
Raines nodded with interest.
“We have reason to suspect that the Pretender is also there and that Miss Parker is aware of it. We also have reason to believe that she is not pursuing him…”
Raines said nothing for a long moment. When he looked up again a malevolent, triumphant grin darkened his features.
“Do go on…”
Cloned Insanity…
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A shadow darted passed the base of a convoluted staircase.
She came to a screeching halt as she ran into another dead-end. Leaning over, she rested her hands on her knees, trembling hard as she tried to catch her breath.
She was out of the underworld that had abruptly ended in an abandoned building. There had been no Black Coats since her escape, but also no Lyle. She didn’t know if she should stay put and wait for him or if she should keep moving.
The walls around her loomed high above, reaching forever sky it seemed. The roof had caved in long ago and now revealed the glory of the heavens.
She had to rest, there was no way round it. But numbly, she began to move again. Absently, she fumbled through the pockets of both her jacket and jeans. Her fingertips grazed the revolver and swiftly withdrew.
The reality that she had shot and most likely killed a man rattled her to her core. Her mind wrestled with the facts, unable to comprehend and desperate to conceal the memory.
Memories…
A few had surfaced… about Lyle… about those men following them. Mia recalled the black-cloaked creatures had trailed her before and that Lyle had come to her rescue previously as well.
She sighed and removed a handful of newspaper clippings from her jeans. Her brow furrowed as she sorted through the collection. A tattered photograph escaped the bunch and drifted to the ground. She reached for it and caught it before it landed in a puddle.
The photograph was of a young man and woman in one of those cheesy department store photo studio poses. The woman was on the pudgy side, but no doubt a beauty with a toothy smile, bright gray eyes, cinnamon hair, and a light complexion. The man had a distinctly Italian look. His thick black hair was gelled and spiky and he had a strapping build. His eyes were the same gray as the girl’s- almost colorless in the center and rimmed in charcoal.
She turned the picture over and found an inscription scrawled on the back in sharp, tight penmanship:
Love you, sis!
Your sibs, -Mario and Maria
She turned her attention to the newspaper articles and a chill ran through her. Every clipping was about the same topic- murder.
The headlines lashed out at her:
Manhunt for City Slayer Continues! City Slayer Strikes Again- Seventh Murder in Seven Weeks! New Detective Says City Slayer Female! City Slayer on the Run!
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An old woman peered out of the window of her home at the stranger on her doorstep. She cracked the door, not bothering to take off the chain lock, and eyed him suspiciously.
“Che cosa?” She waited impatiently for him to answer.
The man wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose. He was terribly jittery after hearing of his secretary’s murder. He shivered involuntarily.
“My name is Viktor Puccini,” he said, unsure of what the woman had said to him. “I am here to see a Mario Micelli.”
The woman stared warily at the nervous little man who kept swiping at his brow.
“Chi è al portello, Nonna?”
The voice of a young man caused the woman to shut the door completely.
“È un medico, Mario.” Puccini could still hear the woman as she spoke to the boy.
A tall, well-built young man in his mid-twenties reopened the door.
“Are you Mario?” Puccini asked.
The young man’s gray eyes flashed.
“Whaddya want?”
“I’m here about your sister,” he paused at the stony look on Mario’s face. The doctor faltered, then remember that the youth had two sisters. “About Amelia.”
Mario flinched. “You know where she is?”
“Not exactly. May I come in?”
Grudgingly, he moved aside and allowed the other man to enter. While the doctor wiped the soles of his shoes on the door mat, Mario turned to his grandmother and spoke to her in Italian.
The old woman’s eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together over her chest.
“Il mio Mia? Il mio prezioso, Mia caro?” Tears welled up in her eyes.
Mario gently took her arm, speaking to her in soothing tones as he led her to another room. When he returned, he ushered Puccini into the living room.
The doctor seated himself on the sofa. Mario chose to stand.
“I’m Amelia’s doctor,” he explained hastily. “She was coming to see me on a regular basis- did you know about this?”
He shrugged. “I knew she was having some problems- she said she needed some help getting her feeling sorted out. I didn’t know she was actually getting any help.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
He shrugged coolly. “About seven weeks or so ago, I guess.”
Puccini leaned forward and moistened his lips.
“Mario, I’m here because I believe that Amelia is in trouble- I’m sure exactly what kind of trouble yet, but I know it is imperative that we find her.”
The young man frown and distress shone in his eyes.
“You know why she stopped calling?” he asked.
The doctor shook his head. “When I last spoke to her, she was very confused. She seemed lost.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I mean lost in a very literal sense. She’s lost herself. She has no concept of who she is.”
“So you’re saying my baby sister is crazy.” He sounded angry.
“No, no,” Puccini corrected quickly. “She suffers from frequent dissociative fugue.”
“What?”
“A person in a dissociative fugue may suddenly leave their previous living arrangements and forget or be confused about their identity and they may adopt a new one. They are able to perform well enough to survive under the new identity. These episodes are generally caused by a severe stressor and are time limited to a few days, but may last months. When the fugue ends, the person is unable to recall what occurred during this state.” He sighed. “What caused this in Amelia, I don’t know. The important thing is that we find her.”
Puccini rose to his feet. “Amelia may try to contact you. You must convince her to tell you where she is, and then contact me immediately.”
He handed a business card over to Mario who took it apprehensively.
“Don’t try to reason with her,” he warned. “Let me do that. Do you understand how very important it is that you call me?”
The young man nodded sadly.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Broots was not happy about the mission they were on. In truth, he wasn’t sure why Miss Parker had insisted upon he and Sydney coming with her while she was on a personal vendetta. He sighed wearily.
A door slammed shut.
Broots jumped and frantically shoved the picture of his daughter back into his pocket.
“You ready?” Parker cast him a sidelong glance as she pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open.
“Y-y-yeah.”
She held the phone to her ear and gave whatever she happened to be looking at a scathing glare.
“How long do I have to keep him on the line?”
Broots finished the configuration of the electronic equipment before him.
“I need at least five minutes, maybe more. It depends on how strong the signal is.”
She turned her back on him as her target answered her call.
“Hello, Lyle,” she hissed.
“Parker?” He sounded confused as though she had just awoken him.
“Did I wake up Baby?” she sneered.
“No,” his tone quickly regained it usual arrogance. “I’m just surprised to hear from you, Sis. Thought you’d be hot on Jarod’s trail right now… Or did you conveniently lose him… Again.”
Parker’s jaw unhinged slightly, she was only momentarily pushed off-balanced.
“What exactly are you implying?”
“Nothing, Sis. Nothing at all,” he paused and Parker could just see the gloat on his face. “It just seems to me that Jarod has slipped through your fingers a few too many times. Granted, I never caught him, but then again, I didn’t chase him as long as you have. After all these years, I would think Jarod would slip up and you’d get a little closer.”
There was something distinctly vicious in the suspension of words between them. Parker all but stopped breathing as she tried to quell the rage that was boil inside her.
“Then again,” Lyle jeered, “Maybe you have…”
“Are you accusing me of intentionally letting him go?”
“I’m accusing you of aiding the enemy, yes. Daddy would have a coronary if he found out what his little “angel” doing, now wouldn’t he?”
“You wouldn’t,” Parker’s tone was low and menacing. Broots swallowed and hard; he could practically feel the hatred radiating out of her. “You have no evidence of that. I-“
“So why are you so quick to defend yourself. If what I say bears no truth, why get so worked up over it… Sis?”
Broots didn't dare to look at her as though making eye contact would turn him into stone.
“I got it,” he whimpered, not sure if she heard him or not.
As enraged as she was, Parker’s voice was terriblely cool and calm as she issued her final warning to him.
“You know, Lyle, I sincerely hope that your little Project doesn’t kill you before I get the chance to.”
Broots was ready for her when she finally turned back to him.
“I-I-I’ve got his, um, his location,” Broots told her. She was leaning over his shoulder now with her cheek to close to his ear. The entire right side of his face felt on fire and he was immensely uncomfortable with her so close.
“Tell me.”
“He’s in, in a parking garage about ele-eleven blocks from here.”
“Get Sydney.”
Broots froze.
“Are you deaf?” she snapped. “Now!”
Anxiously, Broots scurried to comply.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The evil glint of dagger held her attention fast. She cowered in the corner as her attacker advanced on her. Death’s maniacal grin flashed from beneath long, amber hair.
This couldn’t be happening… and yet it was….
The child she had let into her home, the sweet blessed child who was so affectionate and eager to please, had morphed into a homicidal sociopath in a matter of hours.
The dagger rose high in the air, poised to strike. With swift precision, it fell…
She awoke in a panic, shaking from the night terrors that so often plagued her. Sweat drenched the cloth closest to her body.
Minutes passed. Slowly, she regained her senses as the dream images vanished. At length she could stand and Mia staggered into the street, searching for some sort of peace.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yeah it's the king of nothing and the queen of rage …
She watched him for a long while, studying his curious behavior. He darted in and out of the parked cars in a strange zigzagging pattern while constantly glancing about as though he were looking for something… or looking to stay away from something. Finally, he stopped and fell back against a wall- he looked spent and exhausted. It was odd to see him look so vulnerable.
He began to move again with a sudden start. He was staring over his shoulder as he jogged forward and never saw her coming.
A closed fist connected with his jaw just as he was turning his head. The force and shock fell him to the floor.
Lyle stared up into the hate-filled eyes of his sister.
With a pile of confusion upon a glittering stage…
“What is your problem!?” he returned her glare with equal intensity.
“You,” she spat. She drew her gun and aimed it at his heart.
He rolled his eyes in disparagement. “Put that thing away, Parker. You’re not going to use it.”
She stared at him in incredulity of his audacity as he stood up. Her gun remained level with his chest.
“Are you really that arrogant or are you just that stupid?”
Lyle smirked at her. “Come on, Sis, you shot me once before at close range and missed. So I don’t have much faith that you’re going to kill me this time around.”
“I didn’t miss, moron,” she returned, “Cockroaches are just hard to kill.”
“Really, Parker,” he straightened his tie and smoothed his rumpled jacket. “I don’t have time for this.”
He began to walk away.
The gun fired.
You know we never did anything to make ourselves feel proud …
Lyle spun around wide-eyed and startled.
“That was a warning shot,” Parker snapped, stepping closer to him.
“You really are crazy!” His eyes narrowed and he turned fully to her, holding his arms out to the side.
“Shoot me now,” he dared. “Come on, do it. You’re so bent on killing me- so get it over with.”
“I’ve have questions I want answered before I send you to your Maker.”
“You and your questions,” he said scornfully. “You know if you spent less time asking and more time doing, Jarod would have been caught long ago.” Lyle was not a stupid man- he had a reason for infuriating her further.
“Shut up!” she nearly screamed at him. “Tell me where the Seventh Member is!”
“Now if I knew that, do you really think I’d be wandering around a parking garage looking for her?”
Resentfully, she conceded that he had a point then she grinned at him triumphantly.
“I see I’m not the only one who keeps loosing their Projects.”
“Please, Parker,” Lyle inched closer to her. “I only lost her because of those interfering idiots in black. If they hadn’t gotten in my way, the Seventh Member would’ve been in the Triumvirate's hands days ago.”
“I’m sure.”
He saw her grip on the gun relax ever so slightly and then he saw his chance.
You know we never did anything so let's play it loud …
Parker was thrown to the ground as Lyle rushed at her so fast she didn’t have a chance to react. Her gun flew out her grasp and slid under a car. As quickly as he was upon her, he was off and retrieving the weapon.
With a wickedly victorious grin, Lyle stood over her with her own gun aimed at her head.
“Well, well, well, how ironic is this?”
Parker could do nothing but stare at him, still unnerved by how quickly she had lost control of the situation. He crouched down beside her and pressed the barrel of the gun into her temple.
“You know,” he said nonchalantly, “Today is your lucky day, Sis.”
The gun withdrew from her head as he stood back up.
“I have bigger fish than you to fry.”
He took the clip out of her gun and slipped it into his pocket, tossing the gun to the floor. Then he disappeared into the shadows.
Let's hear it for the King and Queen of America ...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I know you're watching me every minute of the day… I've seen the signs and the looks and pictures that give your game away…
After being called into to investigate the murder of an assistant to Dr. Viktor Puccini, Jarod was on his way to nail Lyle. Surveillance cameras in the doctor’s building captured the entire murder in gory detail. From the tape, Jarod was able to tell that Lyle had removed files from the doctor’s office, but motive for the murder was unclear- of course Lyle never needed a motive.
Patient monitoring of the surveillance cameras in surrounding areas had paid off when Lyle emerged in a parking garage, not far from where Jarod was watching for him.
He stepped cautiously through the garage, watching every shadow. The gun he held felt awkward in his grip. No matter how much he handled a weapon, Jarod didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.
A noise of the other side of aisle he was in put him on guard. Stealthily, he crept toward the sound. He stopped and there was silence. He began to move again, and the noise returned. He was in the open now, in the center of a wide aisle.
Click, click, click…
Jared spun around with gun cocked and ready and found himself staring down the barrel of a 9mm.
Don't say you're easy on me, you're about as easy as a nuclear war…
Ice blue eyes stared him down. Jarod’s gun trembled in his confusion.
“Miss Parker?”
Her frown deepened- she was as stunned as he was.
“Jarod?”
Their guns slowly lowered. They gawked at each other in astounded quiet.
Parker spoke first.
“You idiot, what are you doing here?”
Jarod put his free hand on the back of his neck. “I tracked Lyle here.”
“Yeah, well, he’s gone,” she snapped in annoyance. The only thing more humiliating than loosing Lyle was loosing Lyle and being caught by Jarod.
“Oh.”
She glared at him- that look he was giving her, that lost puppy dog look, was irritating her immensely.
“Stop that!”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she muttered, putting her gun away.
Jarod looked at her curiously.
“That’s it?” he asked with a hint of merriment. “You have me cornered and you’re putting your gun away? You give up easily these days, Miss Parker.”
“Oh, shut up,” she snarled, patting her pockets in search of a cigarette. “Like you didn’t know my clip was empty.”
“Actually,” Jarod cocked his head to the side and smiled. “I didn’t. Thanks for the information.”
Parker swore under her breath. The day could not get any worse.
“It’s not like you to have an unloaded weapon,” he commented watching her light up. “What happened?”
“Lyle took it,” she said exhaling a ring of smoke. “It was the only clip I had on me.”
“What’s the deal with Lyle?” he asked. “I know why you hate him, but why go after him now?”
“Because he killed my r-“ she started to tell him that Lyle killed the rabbit he had given her, but she caught herself. “Because.”
Jarod stepped closer.
“I know what happened to the rabbit,” he confessed quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“How did you-???”
He simply shrugged.
“Did you get Lyle to tell you where Amelia is?” his tone turned grave.
Parker shook her head. “I got exactly nothing out of him.”
“I’m not surprised he wouldn't talk,” Jarod murmured. He looked at her both shyly and hopefully. “I need help,” he told her frankly. “I need your help…”
“Jarod,” Parker backed away from him. “Look, if anyone from the Centre found out about this, it’d all be over. So go away.” She looked away from him. “Go away now.”
He stepped closer. “Parker…”
Please, please tell me now… Is there something I should know? Is there something I should say…that would make you come my way…
“Don’t ask for the impossible, Jarod.”
“It’s not impossible for you to help me. You did before…”
“Stop it, Jarod!” She turned her back on him completely, but not before he saw the torn look on her face. “We’re not children anymore!”
“Please,” he sounded desperate in his pleading. She hated it- hated him for making her feel guilty. “Please help me and I can help you.”
She turned her head slightly. “It won’t change anything. I won’t stop chasing you.”
“I know.”
“I could betray you.”
“I’ll take that chance.”
“Only until we find out what Project Heptagon is.”
“Only until we find out what Project Heptagon is,” he promised.
She heard the hope in his voice and it bothered her all the more. She began to walk away.
“Parker,” he called after her.
She stopped.
“Thank you.”
The Pretender watched as she disappeared into the shadows.
Do you feel the same 'cos you don't let it show…
