No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.

- Mary Wollstonecraft

She caught more than a passing glance of the map that was spread out on the table. While the three people holding her captive argued over the best way to handle the current situation, Mia studied the map Angelo had given them. She raised a hand to her nose and cocked her head to the side in thought. She was more than a little curious as to who this Angelo was and why he had given a map to her- after all, she had no connection to their Jarod. She wasn’t given much time to wonder about this, however, as

Parker hauled her away from the table.

“Don’t even think about taking that information to Lyle,” the woman hissed.

She responded by wrinkling her nose at her. Parker turned to Broots.

“You know what to do,” she said shortly, jerking a thumb behind her.

Broots nodded uncertainly and gave Mia an apologetic look. He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, pulled back, and hesitated. He seemed unsure of what to do.

She sighed and let her hands slap against her thighs. “Point the way,” she told him with an air of resignation. “Lock me up.”

Broots walked her to the back of the room. “You know,” he began, feeling that he owed her an explanation, “there are some not so nice people looking for you, Mi- Amelia. It’s for your protection.”

Mia smiled slightly knowing that he was trying to be pleasant, but she also knew that it was more for their protection than hers.

She could tell by Parker’s attitude and the other man’s aloof demeanor towards her that they were suspicious of her and not convinced that she wouldn’t suddenly snap. She also knew that much of that was due to her connection to Lyle.

Broots led her to something that could only be described as a closet. He held the door open and she stepped inside.

“I’m really sorry,” he said.

She shrugged. “Gotta do what ya gotta do,” she said, studying him intensely. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I thought Jarod is a bad guy. Why are you helping him?”

Broots regarded her with surprise. “Oh,” he said, realizing the extent of Lyle’s influence over her. “No… no, Jarod’s a good guy.”

“Who is he?”

Broots glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he should be saying anything. The answer was probably no, but considering how much Mia already knew and that she was going to be “locked up”, it didn’t seem like there was much harm in responding to her question.

“Well, you see,” he began finding it far more difficult to explain than he anticipated, “Jarod is very special- he’s a Pretender. Uh, a pretender is…”

“I know, someone who can be anyone they wanna be,” she said hurrying him along before his boss caught him talking to her.

“Bobby told me that much.”

“Oh, right,” he took a deep breath before plunging ahead. “Well, Jarod was taken from his parents and raised by the Centre because of his special abilities. But he escaped a few years ago and we’ve been trying to get him back ever since.”

Mia’s eyes narrowed and she arched an eyebrow. “So you’ve been trying to catch him and now that you’ve caught him, you’re gonna bust him out? Am I missing something?”

He had no immediate response. “Well, yeah… but it’s complicated… There are some really… uh…bad people in the Centre and it’s really hard to know who to trust. We have to make sure the right people get him.” He frowned slightly, knowing how inadequate his explanation was.

“Yeah, so how’s he not a bad guy?”

“He was treated really badly by some of the people here. You know he doesn’t know his family or anything. Ever since he escaped, he’s been looking for his past, but he’s also helped a lot of people along the way,” he paused thinking of how Jarod helped him when he witnessed the Annex murders.

“So he’s Batman without the cape and cowl?”

“Something like that.” Broots saw Parker turned towards them out of the corner of his eye and hastily straightened. He felt so horrible for Mia- she looked so upset and lost. As he began to shut the door, Mia put her foot in the way.

“Why does everyone hate Bobby?”

Broots gulped. He shrugged weakly. “Mr. Lyle is a not so good guy,” he muttered. “If Jarod’s Batman then Lyle’s Two-Face. Look, Mia, you don’t want to get involved with him. He’s… he’s…”

“Evil?” she offered, remembering the awful words of the old hag in the warehouse. She turned and ventured further into the closet before sliding dejectedly down the wall to the floor. “You can close the door, Mr. Broots.”

He lingered in the doorway wishing there was a way he could help her. At Miss Parker’s call, he sadly closed and locked the door.

After a while, Mia stood and felt around for a light source. She found it in the form of a solitary bulb hanging down from the middle of the ceiling. Returning to her spot on the floor, she cradled her knees to her chest and listened to the muffled voices filtering through the door. Her thoughts were gloomy and depressed- there was so much she didn’t understand. She rubbed her forehead against the top of her knees and tried to stifle the urge to cry. All she ever did was try to survive life without being noticed which was a difficult task for a child of an infamous murderer. What on earth had she done to deserve all this?

And now I know I’m no better than my father…

There was something else that weighed heavily on her mind. Broots had made Jarod sound like a saint, which wasn’t even close to what Lyle had told her. According to Lyle, Jarod had created a great many projects that were used to hurt a lot of people and that after his escape he continued to wreak his havoc, leaving a trail of tears behind. He had warned her to stay away from the Pretender for there was no telling what he was capable of doing.

Mia turned her head to the side and exhaled a large breath. She did not want to accept that he had intentionally lied to her and she tried to justify his reasons to herself. He had been upfront about the other aspects of his life; the parts one would understandably lie about. So she convinced herself he had a legitimate purpose for telling her what he did about Jarod, but she still felt unsettled.

However, that did not change her resolve to find him. He, at the very least, deserved the chance to explain himself.

She was sitting quietly in the corner of the room with her hands clasped before her and her head slightly bowed. A cigarette rested in the ashtray on the table smoking lazily as its ashes seethed in orange. Her breathing was tight and controlled unlike the emotion that bubbled inside.

As with all the traumatic events that had occurred in her life, she suffered in silence, dealing with the pain alone. She struggled to keep her thoughts focused on the mission ahead, but her thoughts kept straying to him…

She was worried, terribly worried, and just a tiny bit frightened. There was no telling what might happen to Jarod, what might be happening. With Lyle and Raines involved… She shuddered slightly.

The stillness within the Centre also concerned her. The return of the Pretender was the foremost mission of the Centre and yet it had caused not a stir. It was as though the Centre hierarchy was occupied with another matter and not prepared for their quarry’s homecoming.

Then there was Mia. This was a source of much uncertainty for Parker. She wasn’t sure what to make of the girl, who was certainly a victim of circumstances. They knew so little about the purpose of Project Heptagon that it was impossible to know whether she was benign or a serious threat. And the girl’s loyalty to Lyle troubled her; Mia was impressionable and with Lyle guiding her Centre-given skills, she could be a lethal weapon, indeed. And her brother was not one to pass up such a grand opportunity.

The situation was bleak and there was no telling how many other sordid secrets they would uncover before it was all over. Surprisingly, it was Broots who brought some hope to the situation.

“Miss Parker!” he cried in a hushed whisper. “Miss Parker, you’re not going to believe this!”

She stood abruptly and walked to the center of the room. “What?”

Broots glanced over his shoulder as though he was expecting someone to jump out of the shadows. “I just came across this recent memo to Raines,” he held it out to, the paper trembling in his hand. “Raines is gone!”

“What!?” She snatched the paper from him and her eyes flew furiously over the note.

“It was so strange,” Broots continued visibly shaken. “I passed Raines’ office on my way back here and the door was open so I

peeked inside. Everything was a wreck, Miss Parker. Papers all over the place, the file cabinet overturned. And there was no one around. In fact, there’s hardly a soul in Centre right now. It’s creepy.”

“The Triumvirate summoned Raines’ to New Mexico.” Parker turned a questioning look on him. “Why?”

Broots shrugged. “Dunno. That’s all there was to the memo. I asked Jason from upstairs if he’d seen Mr. Raines today. Well,

Jason said he saw him leave the Centre, get into a limo, and take off.”

“Must be going back to the mother ship,” Parker murmured absently. She glanced at Sydney. “We move now.”

While Broots jumped to obey her orders, Sydney was more deliberate. Nothing could convince him that this wasn’t some elaborate Centre setup. He also knew that nothing would keep Parker from following her own agenda- she and Lyle were much alike in that way. Taking a place next to Broots, Sydney accepted that there was nothing to be done except cover her. The technician was already well into his assignment which was to access all of the Centre’s surveillance cameras.

Parker loaded a fresh clip into her gun and pocketed a spare. After securing her hair away from her face, she turned to the men.

“We’re set to go, Miss Parker,” Broots informed her. “Surveillance footage of the sub-levels and Renewal Wing is currently

looping.” To himself, he wondered if there was anyone left in the Centre to be monitoring the cameras.

Better safe than sorry, I guess…

Sydney assisted Parker in hooking up a tiny communication transmitter. The minute microphone was nestled in the lapel of her short, dark jacket completely invisible even to someone looking for it.

“I’d feel better if you’d wear the vest,” Sydney said quietly nodding to the bulletproof jacket that lay on the table.

“I won’t need it,” she said tersely, snapping up the buttons on her external jacket.

“Parker…” his face was stern. “Why are you being stubborn about this?”

She glanced away from him. “Ready, Broots?”

“All set, Miss Parker.”

“Good. Don’t forget to check on the kid once in awhile.”

Broots nodded. “Miss Parker, please be careful.”

But she was gone before he could finish his sentence. Sydney took a seat at the desk, his face haggard by fret. He pressed the palms of his hands together and bowed his head slightly. With his eyes closed, it almost looked like he was praying…

Protect my children…

By now she had lost track of how long she’d been in the empty closet. Long ago she’d given up searching for an escape route as she could see everything in the room from her spot on the floor and the only way out was through the door. So she sat there thumping the back of her head against the wall in frustration; it was either that or sleep and her mind was far too active to rest.

A few moments later she noticed a lack of sensation in her feet. Kicking off the high heels, she began to stand only to be snapped back down; the hem of her dress was caught on something. She struggled with the material, grasping the dress in one hand and pushing against the wall with the other. Her hand grazed something sharp near the floor. The cloth pulled free and she stuck her smarting finger in her mouth. She moved to the side to allow the light to shine on the area where she had been sitting. She promptly fell to her knees.

It was there- small though; much smaller than the ones she had previously crawled through, but it was an air vent. She felt enormously stupid for checking every inch of the room except where she sat. Pushing inadequacy aside, she tried to pry the grate off. It screwed on tight. She nearly screamed in frustration.

A sliver of light fell over her as the door cracked opened. She didn’t bother to move when Broots entered with a tray of food.

“Are you okay?” he asked sounding genuinely worried. He set the tray down next to her.

“No.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Got a screwdriver?”

Broots shifted nervously, wondering what she could possibly want with the tool. The knowledge that the girl was an assassin pushed to the forefront of his mind, he stood up and took a step back. “W-well, if you need anything else just yell.”

And with that she was alone again.

The perfect act of protest would be to leave the tray as it was thereby making it clear that they could do what they wanted to her, but they would not have complete control over her. However, it couldn’t help to at least see what was on menu.

A sandwich of ham and Swiss cheese set in the corner with a glass of milk opposite it. A bowl of soup was the main dish. There was nothing that interested her much until she caught sight of the metal spoon lying sedately upon the napkin.

Slowly, she reached for the spoon, afraid to get her hopes up, but unable to contain her anticipation. She scooted back to the vent and wedged the flat end of the utensil into the silver slit of the screw. The end was a tad too large but looked like it would work anyway. She pressed firmly against it and with all her might pulled on the spoon. Ever so slightly the screw turned.

It took almost an eternity to loosen all of the screws, but finally she managed it. It took an equally long time to slide the grate off in silence as not to alert the two guarding her.

The vent was smaller that she first thought and she was concerned that she might not fit. Before attempting to enter the shaft, she reached for her shoes then hesitated. High heels shoes in the long run would surely be detrimental but the extraordinary length of her pants was likewise a hurdle. Quickly she cuffed the pants several times, making the length manageable.

The shaft was a tight fit around her slim figure and it took quite a bit of wiggling to slide into it. She was fine with the enclosed space until her head followed the rest of her into the shaft. Once she was completely engulfed she was overwhelmed by claustrophobia. Her frantically pounding heart reverberated in her ears with the thunder of falling bricks. The deeper in the shaft she went, the more constricted her breathing until she felt certain she would suffocate. Terror held tightly to her throat and there was no way she could go any further. She would simply have to find another way to get to Lyle; she wasn’t going to make it this way.

She tried to push herself back up but couldn’t get any leverage. In a desperate attempt to propel herself up, she squirmed further into the passage and her legs were suddenly free from their prison. Panic was replaced by relief and excitement as the shaft widened to its normal width.

Dizzy with respite, she leaned back, panting heavily, and tried to regain her bearings. She closed her eyes and summoned up the image of her map, tracing over the path to Lyle once more. Shortly, she began the crawl through the air ducts with the map still visible in her mind. She wound her way through turn after turn in the dark passages, barely able to see even after her eyes adjusted to the dark. Just as the end was in sight, she hit a dead-end.

Fabulous! What else can go wrong!!

According the map she had memorized there should be an opening in the floor of the shaft she was in that went down. However, there was no opening. She searched the floor tediously, going over and over it, looking for anything that would reveal the entrance.

There was nothing. She pressed her hands against her forehead, face scrunched in disappointment. She was positive that she had

followed the map right but that didn’t alter reality.

Maybe the opening has been closed since the map was drawn…

She hissed in anger, swearing at whoever the idiot was who covered the opening. There was nothing to do but go back. She turned around and crawled back the way she came. Just as she reached the entrance to the passageway, the floor gave way beneath her.

Darkness swallowed her as she plummeted into the abyss…

She entered the Renewal Wing with her gun drawn and ready for use. The smelled of astringent stung her nose as she stalked the rooms. Equipment and beds stood ready as if expecting company at any time, but nothing was currently in use. That baffled Parker.

After extensively searching the wing and finding nothing, Parker started to inform Sydney and Broots that she was coming back when a faint noise caught her attention.

She lowered her gun but did not put it away. She held her breath waiting to hear it again. She turned her head in the direction of the echo. Stepping softly as not to cover the sound with the click of her heels, Parker crept vigilantly in the direction it was coming from. The closer she got to the source, the more the noise sounded like a moan of pain. She found herself in a secluded section of the Renewal Wing, an area she was not familiar with. Her back was against the wall. To her right was a locked door; nearly invisible as it was the same stark white as the wall around it. A tiny square window was the only portal into the room on the other side. Her vision was too impaired by the minimal opening to properly see inside, but there was something in there.

The door was, of course, locked. Too impatient to bother with a less damaging way to open the door, she lifted the gun, aimed it at the lock, and fired. The lock flew apart and clinked onto the tile.

With gun still poised, she pushed open the door with the toe of her shoe and stepped into the room. The door smoothly closed itself behind her. Stifled groans drew her attention to the pale curtain to her left. With the nose of the gun she parted the drape and found him prostrate on cold steel examination table bound at the feet with leather straps. His face twisted in agony and his hands grasped at air. She couldn’t tell if he was conscious or dreaming.

“Jarod.” The gun had been put away, leaving her hands free to capture his head between her palms. “Hey,” she called firmly, but softly. She tried to establish eye contact with him, but his pupils were not dilating correctly.

She gave up and instead focused on unfastening his feet; that seemed to have an effect on him. His hands went to his head as he rolled onto his side, dangerously close to the edge. His dark eyes opened and darted around madly.

“Hey,” she tried again, squatting down so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. She snapped her fingers in front of him trying to get his attention. “Come on. Snap out it.”

He stopped cringing long enough to raise his head. He was looking straight at her, but there was no recognition in his eyes. She stood up and stepped back.

“Sydney,” she said into her lapel. “Syd, are you there?”

“Yes, Parker,” the doctor’s voice sounded strained. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m not sure. I found Jarod. But they must have drugged him or something. He’s conscious but not responding.”

“If he’s coming out of a sedative-induced sleep it may take a while for him to fully come around.”

“How long is that going to take?”

“Patience, Parker,” the doctor replied with a hint of a smile. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Syd,” Parker watched Jarod’s fight for control over his body with a vexed frown. “Have Broots check around and see if he can find out why there is no one in the Centre.”

“All right. We’ll do what we can. Be careful… both of you.”

Parker returned to Jarod and found him trying to sit up. She stood before him as the impassable practical person she always was, but beneath the cool exterior she was battling her uncertainty over how much empathy to show him.

Jarod lifted his heavy head as he allowed his feet to drop over the edge of the table. His vision was cloudy but clearing and the voice in his head, the one that sounded exactly like Parker, had stopped talking to him. The more his equilibrium returned the

stronger he felt. But his head pounded mercilessly.

Apparently, though he wasn’t as recovered as he thought he was. Before him loomed a very convincing apparition of Miss Parker.

He closed his eyes and grunted. It did no good; she was still standing there.

“Get into a fight with a Clorox bottle?” She remarked in reference to his hair. As sarcastic as the comment was, he caught the underlying concern in her voice.

“What’s going on?” he asked groggily; still not convince that she wasn’t a hallucination.

“That would be the question everyone is wanting the answer to. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I don’t think anything’s been seriously damaged.”

They stared at each other for a long while before Jarod spoke again.

“I though you said you weren’t going to help me if I got caught.” He was tempted to add “or did you just lie to me again”, but he thought it would be unwise to anger her at the moment.

“Yeah, well, things have come up,” she said slightly annoyed with him for bringing up the past threat. “Actually, things have taken an even more bizarre turn since we last spoke.”

Jarod was being to feel normal again save for the headache. “How so?”

She filled him in on their discovery of the Heptagon DSAs, Mia and the girl’s involvement with Lyle. Jarod listened silently as she spoke and remained still for several moments after she finished.

“You say that Mia was with Lyle when he broke into Raines’ office?”

Parker nodded. She leaned against the table near where he sat. “According to her. And she would have to have been in order to

get those DSAs.”

“There wasn’t anyone with Lyle,” Jarod said. “He was the only one there when we came.”

“Yes, well, it seems that Lyle had a rare moment of selflessness and hid her in the air vent. She says that’s where the Project files are.”

She was close enough to him that he could sense the tension in her. He wished there was something he could do to put her at ease.

He shifted a bit and refocused on their discussion.

“So where is Raines? I can’t believe you got in here so easily,” he said, glancing at her.

“You got me. The Centre’s become a ghost town. Daddy’s gone… Lyle’s gone... Broots found a memo to Raines from the

Triumvirate summoning him to New Mexico. We have confirmation that he left the Centre this afternoon. But as for everyone

else…” She spread her hands out before her, palms up, punctuating her lack of answers.

“Lyle’s not gone,” Jarod said suddenly.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning Raines’ has him locked up somewhere around here.”

“Come again?”

Jarod proceeded to tell her of the strange spectacle he had witnessed earlier. Parker was duly befuddled and could say nothing.

She swore under her breath.

“I think we need to take advantage of an empty Centre and get some answers,” Jarod said.

Parker gave him a sharp look. “We’ll find plenty of answers when we find Lyle.”

Jarod concurred with her. “Raines locked him away in an area I didn’t even know existed.”

“Do you remember how to get there?”

It wasn’t that he had forgotten her earlier betrayal- he was still considerably hurt. But he determined it to be in their best interest to let it go for the time being. So he gave her a mischievous smirk. “Of course. Shall we try this partnership thing again?”

She regarded him warily as she mulled the idea over; she was still annoyed with him. “I suppose we could forget the past… for now.”

“Apology accepted,” he said with a wink, turning away to avoid her chilling rebuttal glare.

She followed the Pretender out of the room shooting daggers at his back.

I’d love to get my hands on the idiot who designed that messed-up ductwork!

Aside from a sore rump and protesting head, Mia found herself in one piece just slightly worse for wear. She pulled herself into a sitting position and tried to conjure up the map once again. It took a while for the image to clarify and even longer for her to figure out where she was and how to proceed. As it turned out, she had only a short way to go until the exit to the shaft. Thankfully, she had pocketed the spoon she used earlier and used it to once again jimmy the screws out of the grate. The grate fell to the floor with a dusty thump.

It was apparent that this area of the complex had not been used in a long time. The floor was frigid as she put her bare feet onto it.

The map indicated that Lyle was in an area that was down several flights of stairs and pass a few twisting corridors. The descent down the stairs was simple enough, but it was the labyrinth of halls that was difficult to maneuver.

She was a fan of psychological thrillers and horror flicks and every terrifying element from every movie she’d ever watched came now to haunt her as she passed through the foreboding sub-level. If the psychological apparitions weren’t taunting her to run from the unknown, they were trying to paralyze her with their threats of harm.

Without warning, she was thrust into a new and different corridor. The barely-lit passage was lined on one side with doors: seven in all. A chill wound down her spine as vague familiarity crept into her consciousness. Memories seeped illegally to the surface and she knew she had been in here before.

Welcome to where time stands still… No one leaves and no one will… Moon is full, never seems to change … Just labeled mentally deranged… Dream the same thing every night…

She stared at the door to her right. It reminded her of a dark version of the isolation unit doors she had seen in the old state hospital in the City. A rusty number seven hung above the blocked-in viewing portal.

Then the cold hand of reality hit her hard. This was the hall were the experiments she and Lyle were a part of had occurred. Instantly, she withdrew her hand from the door of the horror chamber. Lyle would be in the sixth cell, if he were here at all.

She was surprised to find that only a pad lock, and a rusty one at that, was all that secured the door. For some inane reason she had always kept a bobby pin tucked behind one ear and for the first time it was actually useful. She fussed with the lock for a long while with no success. Thoroughly fed up, she slammed the lock against the door. It crumbled upon impact and fell to the floor.

What the…? Lousy piece of…!

She struggled to open the heavy door. It fought to stay put, but eventually had to give in. Nothing could have prepared for the sight of what lay behind that stubborn gate.

The cell was tiny and disorganized; everything was covered in a fine layer of grim. Her gaze was drawn to the center of the room where the tub stood. Bizarrely, the basin struck a familiar chord within her. But confusion was thrown to the wayside when she saw him lying on the floor next to the bathtub.

I see our freedom in my sight- No locked doors, no windows barred, no things to make my brain seem scarred…

Her gut instinct was to run to him and hold onto him as tightly as she could, but she knew better. A strange sense of calm pervaded over the emotional turmoil. Water soaked the knees of her pants as she knelt beside him. He was alive; she could see his shoulders rise and fall with spasmodic breath. His face was hidden from her sight as he was lying on his stomach facing away from her. His once white undershirt was now tie-dyed in crimson. A pool of water surrounded him; water tinged with blood freshly supplied from the long precision cut on the sole of his left foot.

Gingerly, she touched his shoulder. A soft groan escaped from him. With great care, she rolled him onto his back trying not to inflict any additional pain on him. His right hand flopped onto her lap. As she took in the extent of his injuries, a very black creature stirred within her, poking its sharp talons through the surface from somewhere deep within. The creature had but one thing on its vindictive mind and it sought a way to share it with her consciousness.

Carefully, she lifted his hand from her lap and placed it on the floor. She searched the room for anything that might be of use. She removed the sheets from the bed. As stale as they were, they were better than nothing. She managed to tear one of the sheets into jagged strips to use as makeshift bandages. She took care of his foot first. After applying a tourniquet to stop the bleeding, she bundled the foot as best she could. He was still lying in an inch of water, but she was afraid to move him. Taking the sheet that was still intact; she soaked up the water around him and discarded the damp sheet to the side. She continued to bandage his wounds the best she could, taking care of the gash across his right temple. His left hand was also in bad shape- the place were his thumb had been severed was bleeding. Lastly, she took the thin blanket from the bed and wrapped him in it to keep the chill away.

Throughout the entire doctoring, he did little more than flinch and utter a moan of agony on occasion. She settled down and gently lifted his head into her lap.

“Bobby?” She spoke firmly, but gently not wanting to jar him too abruptly into the waking realm. “Bobby, can you hear me?”

His eyelashes fluttered against his bruised face. She took the remaining sheet strip and wrapped a corner around her finger. She dabbed at the blood trickling down his chin from his cracked lip. The left side of his face was largely undamaged, but the right side was already beginning to swell.

“Bobby. Bobby, it’s Mia. Can you hear me?”

Finally, his eyes cracked opened.

He heard his name being called repeatedly. His eyes lethargically rolled about trying to make sense of his surroundings. He thought he knew where he was, but could not understand why her tender lilting voice had replaced the demonic chatter in his head.

He decided he must have truly died this time.

This can’t be Hell… I wouldn’t be hearing her voice in Hell… Would I?

His foot involuntarily twitched and he was surprised that he had use of his limbs again, though it hurt tremendously to move.

Sleep, my friend, and you will see that dream is my reality… They keep me locked up in this cage…

Can't they see it's why my brain says “rage”?

His eyes finally found her face. No reaction registered on his features.

“What are you doing here?” he finally got out. His voice was weak and stressed as though in had been years since he had last spoken.

A frown crossed her face, and then she smiled slightly. “What kind of question is that?” she countered.

“I told you to get out of here.” His turned his face away from her and closed his eyes again.

“I saw them drag you away, Bobby. I couldn’t just leave you.”

“You’re so foolish,” bitterness flooded his tone. “You had the perfect opportunity to get away from me, to be rid of me. But what do you do, you come running back. Foolish girl…”

She decided that the trauma of recent events was the cause for his agitation, so she ignored him. “I don’t know long we have before they come back, Bobby. Can you sit up?”

He muttered something incomprehensible. She helped him into an upright position. Immediately, he put a hand to his head.

“Are you okay?”

His brow was furrowed in pain. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’ve been worse,” he responded grumpily. He paused a beat then asked. “Why did you come back?”

“I-I…” her voice trailed off, as she was unable to say anything. She felt as though she had done something wrong. “I don’t understand why you think I wouldn’t.”

He grunted and raised his other hand to his head. His eyes closed.

Because no one ever comes back…

Several minutes passed before he opened his eyes again. His posture went rigid and she could sense a change in his mood.

“This will never work,” he spat suddenly. Strength was returning to his voice.

“What will never work?” she asked timidly, afraid of upsetting him.

“This.” He punctuated the word by motioning to the air between them with a sweeping gesture. “You can’t even follow the simplest of directions. I told you exactly what to do and where to wait for me. But noooo, you couldn’t do it!”

She forgot about not upsetting him and threw her hands up in exasperation. “And if I had? What good would it have done either us? The only reason I didn’t do what you told me to was because I saw that guy hit you and the other two haul you away. I kind of thought that you didn’t have that figured into the plan!” She pulled away from him a bit and let her hands fall into her lap. “Please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

There was no reply. Eventually, he spoke again.

“How’d you find your way around this place?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She had caught the subtle change into his tone- from stony resentment to grudgingly apologetic. “Angelo. He found me and took me to someone named Sydney and another guy named Broots. I also met your sister.” She paused a beat, then added saucily, “Apology accepted.”

He snorted derisively, but did not deny anything. Then he frowned. “Wait. What do you mean Angelo found you? What’s he got to do with this?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, “but he took me to the others and later gave me the map that brought me to you. He also gave a similar one to Parker, only that one showed where Jarod was.”

He hung his head and swore under his breath. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

And so she did. The only thing she left out was what Broots told her about Jarod.

Build my fear of what's out there… Cannot breathe the open air… Whisper things into my brain assuring me that I'm insane… They think our heads are in their hands, but violent use brings violent plans…

“We have to get out of here,” Lyle said with finality. There was fear beneath the antipathy in his voice. He knew Parker would free Jarod and he was worried that along with Raines and his crew, Parker and Jarod would also be after him.

“Yeah,” she said, fidgeting with the end of a lock of her hair. “Yeah, we do.”

He turned as much as he could and looked at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she murmured. But there was something- something she had wanted to ask him for a while and it weighed heavily on her.

“Liar,” he chided. “What?”

“It’s just… It’s not that big of a deal…but it’s just that Broots told me some stuff about Jarod that was really different than what you told me and I was kind of wondering why.”

“Oh.” He said darkly. “Yes, well, I lied to you about Jarod. He really is saint.” He tried to use the wall to help him as he stood up.

“If you want to run and help Parker get him out of here, please go ahead… I’ll completely understand.”

His bluntness initial caught her off guard, but his later sarcasm simply annoyed her. “Stop it, Bobby. I just want to know why you

felt it was necessary to lie about him.”

He sighed. “I don’t… because…if you had…” he was flustered and the more flustered he got the angrier he became. “I wanted you hate him so you wouldn’t go running to him and leave…” He ground his teeth together in silence.

“It’s okay.” She caught the gist of what he was trying to say. She rose to help him as he attempted walking. “It’s not important.”

Keep him tied, it makes him well… He's getting better, can't you tell?

He jerked away from her as soon he gained stability on his feet. “How can you be so bloody accepting?” he demanded. “I’d rather you run off with Mr. Do-Good than stand there pitying me.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that.” She was angry, but not so much at him as at the circumstances around him. “The only one here pitying you is you! Now are we going to stand here all day or what?”

He stared at her, always surprised by her bouts of attitude that he both liked and hated. He refrained from lashing out further- there was no need to press his luck with her.

“Fine, fine,” he growled dismissively. Pain shot up his leg when he put pressure on his left foot. He sunk to floor as his legs failed him completely. He fought to back a sob that rose in his throat. He had the sinking feeling that any attempt of his to fight the powers that be would be futile- he had no strength left to battle with.

A hand cradled his cheek. He looked up into stormy gray eyes. “What can I do?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head and feebly shrugged. “I wanna make them pay,” he whispered. “If I had the strength, I’d kill them…”

“Let me do it.”

“What?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Say that again.”

“Let me do it,” she said again. Her eyes had deepened to charcoal. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

She had changed to an extent. It was as though that dark sub-personality was poking through the sweet primary personality and voicing its desires. In her black gaze he saw the potential for a new Centre power. It delighted him greatly.

“In time, sweetheart,” he smiled slightly. As much as he wanted to contemplate the new possibilities he had realized, the distress his body had suffered was overwhelming. He shivered uncontrollably and consciousness was slipping from him.

She wasn’t sure where the darkness she felt was coming from and she didn’t try to fight it. She settled down next to him and wrapped her arms around him to keep him as warm as possible. She kept a watchful eye on the door.

If they returned before he could move, she would be ready for them.

Fear of living on… Mutiny in the air… Got some death to do… Mirror stares back hard… Kill, it's such a friendly word seems the only way for reaching out again…

“What is this place?” Parker asked in a hushed tone. They kept to one side, pressed up against the wall slowly creeping toward Lyle’s prison.

“I don’t know,” Jarod’s mind was reeling trying to calculate all the variables and possibilities of their situation in order to best anticipate whatever they may happen across. “Whatever it is, it hasn’t been used in years.”

“I don’t understand this about Lyle,” Parker was speaking more to herself than Jarod, but he answered her anyway.

“Apparently, his power is only an illusion and Raines has control over him.”

“Even if that’s true, things still aren’t adding up.”

Jarod checked up abruptly. Parker didn’t see him stop soon enough and stumble into him.

“He’s gone!”

“What!?” Parker stepped out from behind him and saw that one of the cell doors was standing open. “Are you sure he was in that one?”

“Yes.” Jarod’s dark eyes narrowed. He couldn’t figure out how Lyle had managed to escape from the chamber after what they had done to him. He wasn’t surprise really, merely baffled. He had to give the other man some credit- Lyle appeared to be a modern-day incarnation of Houdini.

Parker entered the room first and was promptly repulsed by the sight. “Unbelievable,” she murmured. Just as Jarod had said there was no one inside.

“He couldn’t have gone far,” Jarod gritted his teeth in frustration. He stood in the doorway surveying the scene.

She turned to him ready to say something, but the words never left her mouth.

“Jarod,” she pointed to the floor where he was standing.

Looking down, he saw what she saw. A trail of blood and water led out of the room and disappeared into the hall. He met her gaze and without a word they both hurried out of the cell.

At the end of a long passageway far from where they began, Parker and Jarod found two figures crouched down in the shadows.

As they neared the couple, Jarod got his first look at the Seventh Member. Even though Parker had told him what the girl looked like, he was still surprised by her innocence. He was surprised to see that her arms were around his arch-adversary’s shoulders.

She looked up at them fearfully and he found himself lost in her exotic eyes.

The terrible shape Lyle was in surprised Parker. His head lay limply against Mia shoulder and he could hardly keep his left eye focused on them- the right eye was almost completely swollen shut. Blood soaked through his bandages and shirts.

“Game over, Lyle,” Parker said coldly, training her gun on him. A thousand questions flew through her head concerning her brother’s health, but she felt it necessary to be cautious around him- for all she knew this was another one of his ruses.

“Well, isn’t this great,” he drawled. “Mia, look who came to visit us- Parker and her Pretender.”

Mia moved into a defensive posture, casting a suspicious look at them. Jarod reached out for Parker.

“Be careful,” he whispered in her ear. “Lyle’s likely to use her as shield.”

She shot him an annoyed look. “Don’t you think I know that,” she hissed back.

“Aw,” Lyle continued on sardonically, “how sweet to see the two of you working together. Dad would be so pleased.” He began to laugh.

“Let the girl go, Lyle,” Jarod said, stepping closer. “This ends now.”

His demand was met with more laughter. Lyle raised his head to look directly at the Pretender. He grinned manically.

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, dear Jarod. You see, it’s only just begun.”