The rain poured down in a torrential onslaught. Clouds converged in swirling angry masses and roared their fury in thunderous detonations of power. Lightening ripped opened the skies illuminating the ominous edifice that was the Centre. It had been storming for over a week.

Within the walls of the notorious conglomerate, business carried on at a strangely normal pace. Everything was it had been. But the world had changed.

Somewhere buried deep beneath the Corporation’s foundations laid the lifeless corpse of Mr. White and with him many dark secrets of the Centre. As for the others… Mr. Cox was rumored to have been recalled to Africa, but no one had seen him since Mr. Lyle brought him on staff and his location could not be verified. The imposing figure of Mr. Raines had returned to stalk the halls after a long absence. Mr. Parker was still missing in action, as were his children. Theories and speculation as to the Parker family’s whereabouts flourished while only two on the inside knew the truth.

Dominatus est mortus- that is Project Dominatus was dead as was its sister project, Heptagon. In the Centre, not only were they dead, they were nothing more than figments of the imagination. Nary a file or byte existed; no trace of them could be unraveled from the Centre’s mainframe; not a soul, save those who witnessed the Projects, knew anything about their existence.

As for the earthquake that ultimately destroyed the Projects and shook that wing of the corporation- it never happened. No seismometer registered it, no evidence that there was a quake in Blue Cove existed. As for the sublevel itself it was on the record as having been shut down and condemned… for nearly twenty years.

“How’s Miss Parker doing?” Broots stepped timidly foward as though he half-expected something to jump out of the shadows.

“She’s back to her old self,” Sydney replied, inclining his head slightly. “Though the more she heals, the harder it is to keep her in bed, I’m afraid. Is everything all right, Broots?”

Broots shook his head and collapsed into the nearest chair. “No, no, it’s not. You’ll never guess who I saw this morning.”

“Who?”

The younger man leaned forward and glanced around anxiously. “Mr. Cox,” his voice trembled in a nervous whisper, “He’s back... from Africa. And he cornered me this morning wanting to know if I knew where Miss Parker and Mr. Lyle were!”

Sydney’s eyebrows arched in alarm. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Broots flopped back against the chair. “I mean what could I tell him? Yeah, okay, so I do know where Miss Parker is, but I sure wasn’t going to say anything. But Mr. Lyle? Why would I know where he is?” He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Things keeper getting weirder around here, Syd. I mean, first Cox is gone, now he’s back. Mr. Raines is gone, now he’s back. Mr. Parker is still gone. Miss Parker and Lyle aren’t around and yet everyone acts like everything’s fine- that’s the weirdest part of all.”

“Jarod called,” Sydney said, abruptly changing subjects.

“Really?” Broots sat up a bit straighter. “When?”

“About an hour ago.”

“How is he?”

Sydney smiled ruefully. “He sounded tired otherwise fine.”

“Good, goo-oh!” Broots jumped out of his seat, almost dropping the parcel in his hands. “Speaking of Jarod- this came for you just a few minutes ago.”

Sydney’s smile widened a bit but it was tinged with a bit of sadness as he accepted the package from Broots. “He never fails does he?”

“No,” Broots agreed. “It’s nice to know some things don’t change.”

Inside the package was a hard silver casing that resembled a pen case, but slightly larger and deeper. Attached to the case was a note.

Sydney was relieved to see Jarod’s neat penmanship on the card. “Jarod says not to open the case until he calls.”

“Does it say when he’ll call?”

The doctor shook his head. “No,” he paused in thought, then added. “I need to stay here, Broots, but would mind checking on Miss Parker for me?”

“Sure, absolutely.” Broots was happy to do anything that would take him away from the Centre.

Broots slipped into the hall unnoticed and hope to remain that way. He was almost homefree when he saw Mr. Lyle heading towards him. This wasn’t the first time Broots had run into him since his return; it was actually the second time but Broots had no desire to repeat those encounters a third so he ducked out of the way.

Mr. Lyle had reappeared at the Centre almost two weeks after Mario had taken Miss Parker to Sydney’s place. He was still healing from his injuries and walked with a stiff gait. When Broots first ran into him, he made the mistake of trying to speak to him, to ask him how he was feeling. Lyle passed by him with a glare blacker and more lethal than any Miss Parker had ever given him. Rumor had it that Mr. Lyle was far more volitale and malicious than ever before, as well as reclusive. Even Lucy, who had since returned from her excursion to Japan, had no idea where Mr. Lyle was, where he went, or what he did. He had little to do with her.

Now, as Broots watched, a young giggly Asian beauty in a short red dress follwed Lyle down the hall, but rather than being his usual snake-charming self, Lyle stormed ahead of her looking hacked off at the world. He disappeared into his office, slamming the door in the face of the very surprised girl.

Broots held his breath until Lyle was gone, then hurried from the building.

“This is Sydney.”

“Hello, Sydney.”

“Jarod? Jarod, is that really you?”

“Yes, it’s really me, Sydney.”

“Thank God, you’re alive! I’ve been so worried. How are you feeling?”

“Physically, I’m healing.”

“And otherwise?”

“I hear it’s business as usual at the Centre.”

“So it seems, though the Chairman’s position is strangely vacant.”

“I doubt it will stay that way for long.”

“No, probably not. Have you had any contact with Miss Parker?”

“Have you heard anything from Lyle or Mia?”

“No... I have not seen or heard anything from either of them. Jarod, you seem distant- is everything all right?”

“The other Members are safe. I’ve managed to return them all to their families and loved ones.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less. Well done, Jarod.”

“I have to go, Sydney.”

“Wait, Jarod. You have not asked about Miss Parker. Why is that? Jarod? Jarod, are you there?”

“The body heals, Sydney, but the soul not so easily.”

Those last words bothered Sydney the most. While he had been relieved to know that Jarod was alive, he was concerned about the Pretender’s mental state. Jarod’s uncharacteristic avoidance of Miss Parker, particularly in light of recent events, led him to believe that last statement was somehow related to her. However, when he questioned Miss Parker about it shortly after the call, she claimed no knowledge of what Jarod could have meant.

He trailed behind her wringing his hands nervously as she made her way through the halls of the Centre. She headed directly to her father’s office, slamming the doors behind her in such a way that there was no question as to whether or not she wanted company. Broots sighed softly and went to inform Sydney of Miss Parker’s return.

Things were not the way she expected them to be. She knew her father would not be there, but she fully expected to see Lyle and his smirking visage sitting behind her father’s desk. But instead the room was cold and barren. The fine layer of dust that coated everything in the office told her that her brother had not been there.

Parker’s gaze slowly panned the room before coming to rest on the door. She turned on her heel and walked out.

There was a strange atmosphere in the Centre; no one so much as glanced up at her, despite her long absence. Everything was... normal and nothing that occurred within the building could be considered normal.

Parker found herself outside of her brother’s office. She was almost at the door when it suddenly flew open. She nearly collided with a very distraught Lucy. Meeting Miss Parker only made the poor secretary more upset and she cowered before her.

Despite being confused by the girl’s distress, Miss Parker smiled sweetly at her. “Hi, Lucy. Where’s Lyle?”

Lucy nearly burst into tears, causing Parker to take a step back. “I don’t know!” she cried in despair. “I tell you the truth, I don’t know! People call and call for him, demand to speak to him, yell at me because I cannot make him return calls. He speaks to no one. He will not see or be seen by anyone!”

“Calm down,” Parker said, regretting having bothered the girl. She placed a reassuring hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “I believe you, okay?”

Lucy nodded miserably and hurried away from her. Parker stood by the door for a moment with her hands on her hips. She was beginning to wonder how or if Lyle was coping with the fallout from Dominatus. She was not any less determined to have that heart-to-heart with baby brother, she just decided to postpone it for awhile.

She stopped by her own office on her way to see Sydney. Her office, unlike her father’s, was dust-free. She made a mental note to thank Broots for doing the housekeeping.

“Did you recieve the package?”

“Yes, I did, Jarod. What it is?”

“Open it.” There was a tiredness in the Pretender’s voice as well as a deep saddness.

“You sound upset, Jarod- is anything wrong?” He cradled the phone between cheek and shoulder as he opened the silver casing. Inside, sandwiched in black foam was a hypodermic syringe filled with a milky fluid.

Jarod ignored the question. “It took much longer to create an antidote for the Serum than I thought it would. Otherwise I would have gotten it to you sooner. It will give Amelia a chance at a normal life.”

Sydney paused, a frown creasing his brow. “I don’t know where she is, Jarod.”

“Lyle does.”

“I’m not sure where Lyle is. He’s been quite reclusive lately.”

Jarod said nothing so Sydney went on, worried the Pretender might cut the connection. “There’s only one syringe. What about Lyle?”

Jarod inhaled. “Angelo was able to send the medical portion of Lyle’s file to me before it was permanently deleted from the Centre mainframe. I used it to create the Antidote for Amelia...” his voice trailed off in a sigh. “I tried, Sydney. I tried to create an Antidote for Lyle and the others, but it just isn’t possible. The Antidote eliminates the sub-personality completely, but Lyle’s psyche is too intertwined with the sub-personality; there is no way to safely seperate the two. The Antidote would kill him. But I did try.”

“I know you did, Jarod. I will get this to Amelia as soon as I can. You did well. “ Sydney sensed a deep-rooted depression in his prodigy and felt an overwhelming need to encourage the young man. There was a pause, then the doctor added, “I know something is troubling you, Jarod. Perhaps talking about it would make you feel better.”

The Pretender’s voice broke in confusion and hurt. “I want to,” he said in a hushed voice. “But I can’t, Sydney.”

“You know you can talk to me.”

“No, I can’t talk to anyone about this.”

The doctor repressed a sigh and steered the conversation to a possibly related topic. “You have not mentioned Miss Parker lately, Jarod. Is there a reason for that?”

Something in the silence that lingered told Sydney all he needed to know about his Pretender’s current depression. “If you tell me what’s going on perhaps I can help.”

After a long pause, Jarod finally spoke. “The Antidote has to be administered in a certain way.”

He knew she was all right. He knew that Sydney had been taking care of her. He knew that she would be back at work long before she should be. He knew…

No matter how much he hurt, there was no way he could ever walk away without first finding out if she was safe. He had played dumb with Sydney, purposely not asking about her, hoping she would hear about it and think that he no longer cared. He did not care- it was the truth, he told himself. It was true he did not care…

He hated it when others lied to him, so why was he lying to himself?

He knew he was being childish by seeking to balm his wounds with revenge of that nature. He also knew that such tactics would not inflict the same injury upon her as it had on him. He knew she was the one who did not care. He was stupid, a fool, for hoping for she would.

He turned to the window where the sunlight was streaming in, feeling cold in its warmth.

His jaw began aching again so gingerly he moved it about trying to work out the pain. Perhaps he should have seen a doctor instead of letting his injuries heal on their own. He dismissed the idea and, still holding his jaw in his good hand, stepped out of his office only to see his sister coming down the hall. Quickly, he ducked back inside, swearing under his breath, tremendously annoyed that he had to avoid people, when he felt that they should be avoiding him. At least Broots had gotten the memo and was careful to stay out his way.

The steady stream of foot traffic in the hall kept Lyle trapped in office for a long while. Some time later a rapping at his door disrupted his gloomy thoughts. He froze. The knock came several more times before it faded away. He slowly unclenched his fists and relaxed. The door to his office opened and Sydney stepped in, uninvited and very unwelcome.

Lyle could barely contain himself. “Get out of my office,” he growled in a threatening rumble. He was standing behind his desk, leaning with his fists against the tabletop.

The doctor couldn’t help but notice that the tiredness in Lyle’s eyes matched the tiredness he had heard in Jarod’s voice. Ignoring the younger man’s demand, Sydney set the silver casing down on the desk.

Lyle gave him a blank look. “What is it?”

“It’s for Amelia.”

This fight instantly vanished from him and he collapsed back into his seat.

“Jarod created an Antidote for her,” Sydney further explained.

A dark veil descended over the younger man’s eyes. He turned his chair away from the doctor until Sydney could see only his profile in shadow.

“Why did you bring it to me?” he asked in a peculiar tone.

“You’re the only one who knows where she is.”

“What makes you think that?”

Sydney began to say something then stopped as he noticed a striking similarity between Lyle and Jarod. Both men were exhibiting signs of extreme depression no doubt brought on by the recent trauma they had suffered, but there to be more to it that that, he felt certain. “You seem upset, Mr. Lyle. Has something happened to Amelia?”

Lyle glared up at him. “I didn’t do anything to her if that’s what you’re implying.”

“It’s not.”

“But you were thinking it.” Lyle paused, glancing at the case in front of him. “What’s it an antidote for? She isn’t sick.”

“It reverses the effects of the Serum,” Sydney explained. He could see a hardness settle into the other man’s features.

“Serum?” he snorted and turned to face the doctor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Lyle,” Sydney’s tone darkened. He was not in the mood to play games.

Lyle frowned. “How does it work?”

“It eliminates the sub-personality.”

That piqued Lyle’s curiosity and he opened the case. His face fell upon seeing the contents. “There’s only one,” he remarked flatly.

“Yes,” Sydney caught the distinct disappointment in Lyle’s expression. “Jarod determined that the sub-personality was too intertwined with the psyche in you and the other Members. There is no way to safely separate them- the Antidote is fatal to you. I’m sorry.”

Lyle’s eyes narrowed and the hardness returned to his face. “Or,” he spat bitterly, “this is Jarod’s way of getting back at me for Kyle’s death- by condemning me to a living nightmare.”

“He is not like that, Lyle,” Sydney argued in Jarod’s defense, knowing that the Pretender had done his best.

Lyle, however, would hear none of it. “Whatever,” he retorted snappishly. “Well, next time you speak to him, thank Saint Jarod for me, but also tell him he wasted his time.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Lyle snapped the case shut. “She doesn’t need any Antidote.”

“What?” Sydney stared at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Lyle, don’t do this to her. She helped you- she saved your life. She deserves a chance at a normal life! Think of someone other than yourself for once!”

“Why should I?” Lyle’s blue eyes sparked fiercely. “No, I’ve made my decision- I am not giving her up.”

Sydney let out a harrumph of frustration, knowing that reasoning with Lyle was pointless. He reached across the desk to take the Antidote back, but Lyle slammed a black-gloved hand over the casing.

“I think I’ll hang onto this, if you don’t mind, Doctor,” he said with mock cordiality. “I wouldn’t want you to be tempted to find her and give it to her yourself.”

“Fine,” Sydney retreated to the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he turned back to the younger man. “Do the right thing, Lyle,” he urged. “I know you’re capable of it.”

After the doctor was gone, Lyle stared at the sleek silver casing for a long time before finally shoving it into a remote corner of a desk drawer.

Poor Angelo was manhandled all the way down to SL-25 and thrown into a small holding cell. Flat on his stomach, Angelo missed the chilling glare the sweepers received for unnecessary roughness.

“Get up!”

The voice that barked at him was all too familiar. Angelo scrambled to obey, confused and frightened.

“Over there!”

In an intensely lit corner of the cell, stood a cracked and deteriorating chair near a tiny table. Angelo sat tucking his feet onto the seat and hugging his knees tightly to his chest.

Across the room shrouded in shadow stood a figure glaring out of the darkness with a penetrating gaze.

Angelo’s eyes darted frantically around trying to make sense of what was happening. All around him were instruments of horror that had been used to torture Jarod. Angelo shivered.

“Well, well,” the voice sneered viciously. “You thought you were going to get away with it, didn’t you?” The figure stepped out of the safety of the shadows.

Angelo lifted his eyes to Mr. Lyle’s and regarded him with confusion. He shrugged slightly, not understanding what the man was referring to.

Lyle casually picked up a jumper cable that was still attached to a live battery. Angelo shrank against the back of the chair.

“You thought that we wouldn’t find out that you were responsible for Jarod’s escape.” Lyle’s face was dark and dangerous and his eyes were alive with fire. “You made those maps, didn’t you?”

Angelo did not answer- in fact he barely heard what Lyle had said- his mind was occupied with something else. While he was talking, Lyle had brushed against Angelo as he flaunted the cable in intimidation. That brief contact gave Angelo a peculiar insight into Mr. Lyle’s feelings and his fear of the man dissipated slightly. He sensed that Lyle’s rage was not directed at him. He now regarded Lyle with intense inquisitiveness. However, Angelo felt it wise to give Lyle an answer. “Help Jarod,” he admitted quietly.

Lyle let out a strangled chuckle. “Just as we thought. And you’re also responsible for the escape of the Seventh Member, aren’t you?”

Angelo looked away from Lyle’s intense gaze. “Help,” he began to say “help, Bobby,” but he stopped and shrank further away. “Help Mia… help Mr. Lyle.”

Lyle, unaffected by the sentiment, hissed at the sweepers in the room to leave. He retreated into a dark recess of the room before returning in full fury. With unmasked contempt, he regarded Angelo. Then suddenly and violently he slammed something rectangular onto the table next to Angelo. Coming within inches of the empath’s face, Lyle bared his teeth in hot anger.

“Don’t think for a second I’m going soft, Bonzo,” he threatened. With a final murderous glare, Lyle stormed from the cell.

For a long while after the under-director’s departure, Angelo stared at the open door. Finally, he turned to the table and carefully picked up the slightly warped box of Cracker Jacks. He turned back to the door with a slight, curious smile.

“Welcome… Bobby.”

Angelo returned to his room without further harassment from the sweepers.