 
THE HORNET OPERATIVE

By

Travis Barr

SMASHWORDS EDITION

PUBLISHED BY:

Travis Barr on Smashwords

The Hornet Operative

Copyright © 2015 by Travis Barr

Chapter 1

"Good morning, Jessica," a deep, male voice said to disturb the haze of Jess' semiconscious state. It broke the serene calm and balance of her being somewhat awake but not aware of what was happening or where she was. But now that the disruptive voice had jarred her mind into a higher alertness, she was fully reminded of what was currently happening.

And where she was.

"This is your Pear-Paul personal alarm waking you at 8 A.M.," Stanford's voice spoke again, further yanking Jess from her post slumber fog.

She squinted then fluttered her eyes open for a bleary look around. She discovered without much surprise that she was still in the infirmary wing of the Pear-Paul HQ, still in bed, still recovering from the severe beating she endured three days earlier. Stanford was standing next to her bedside, looking down on her with pleasant, confident eyes.

"Oh. It's you," she acknowledged him a dry tone of disdain in her groggy voice.

"Of course," he cheerfully replied, "You're one of my prize projects, years in the making. Why wouldn't I wish to be the first one to greet your waking eyes."

"Do you know how blessed I feel at this moment?" she mocked him.

He cracked a grin at her morose attempt a humor, then went on, "You're healing nicely, the doctors say. Won't be but a few weeks and you should be good as new."

"That's great news, I can hardly stand the wait." Again the mocking tone.

"You scoff, of course, but I sense that a part of you would like to be more up and around to put whatever tiny plan you and yours have concocted to try and undermine us. Maybe even attempt to bring us to our knees."

"Oh, golly-gosh, were we that transparent?"

"Naturally. You wouldn't be what you are without a large measure of capable intellect. But, of course, neither would we."

"So, it's card laying time, is it?"

"Aaah," he flippantly murmured, "we'll keep things interesting for the time being. You just rest and recuperate. Whatever you need will be provided: films, music—not too loud, of course—your favorite foods, cable TV...just ask. We'll talk more at length when you are feeling limber again." He patted her twice on her shoulder while thin-lipping a smile then he turned and left.

When he was completely gone from the room, her expression turned wholly sour and tense. In his presence she wanted to keep an air of self control and resilience. But alone she was more apt to exhibit how she truly felt for Stanford—which was utter contempt, both mentally and physically. He was the "other" chosen after all, and his close proximity repulsed her senses. But his false compassion made it all the more sickening.

And what was worse was she knew he would likely be the first thing she would wake up to every morning of her stay here.

Chapter 2

The kill was set, but so was the ruse. Surely the target was meant to die—an ad executive by the name of Cordell Brenner who was covertly selling marketing secrets to Pear-Paul's competition.

And WI-8 would be the freakishly large and highly intelligent wasp to do him in. But Eight was also encoded with instructions to be unorthodox in its approach—toy with the poor soul before receiving the transmitted message to finally stab him with toxin and cause the convulsive death.

It was 11:38 at night and Brenner was leaving Dorman Dynamics—a subsidiary of Pear-Paul—to make his way to his car in the expansive parking lot. His was the last one in the lot as he was always the final employee in the building at night. His hope was that this would show the others at Dorman that he was the most dedicated. But the Pear-Paul presidents knew better, knew that Brenner was using the late hours to cleverly transmit the company's sensitive materials and files to their competitors.

But Pear-Paul was also going to use this assassination attempt to take care of an additional corporate headache—one that Stanford Jordan demanded be performed with expedience.

Brenner was a mere thirty feet from his car when Eight shot forth from the night to swoop around and face the man head on. He was visibly shaken at the sight of the buzzing winged terror horridly hovering before his widened eyes. His flight instinct took over and Brenner dropped the briefcase he was carrying and swung about to flee.

But just as he was in mid-leap for a run, the wasp zipped a frighteningly fast curve around to snap-position itself dead in front of Brenner again.

He exploded an "AH!" from his mouth and pivoted madly about to run away. Once more the wasp swept around speedily to cut off Brenner's desperate escape.

But now it didn't even wait for the next attempt at fleeing. It darted all about the shock-charged man, causing him to flinch and duck with insane jerks.

"JESUS!" he shouted instinctively, barely aware of the fact.

The thing continued to circle him in a stop and go pattern—fly, hover, fly, hover.

And then, after about the fifth rotation, it suddenly ceased briefly for a prolonged hover, staring down Brenner's horror-stricken eyes.

Then it started the caging circle once more.

And a split second after it did, a cracking, echoing rifle shot rang out through the night. The bullet that resulted from it howled right through exactly where the wasp had just been.

The source trajectory of the shot was observed by all of the WI's that were hidden amongst the surrounding structures and buildings. Now they had their target's location. The six wasps bounded immediately from their covert spots and swarmed to the shot's origin—though remained hidden in the shadows as they did.

The circling WI-8 halted prolongingly for a second time, eyeing the near-hysteric Brenner. It lingered a bit longer in this floating position, baiting its hidden prey to act again. They did—but the shot was twice a split second late as Eight was on the move for the trapping circle once more. The shot's source was still the same. Good, thought Eight, and the same thought was mirrored with the other six as they stealthily converged on the location. Intermittently the wasps flitted their membranous and translucent wings to keep themselves in flight. But predominantly they coasted noiselessly, closing the distance on their unsuspecting prey.

_Damn it, stay still!_ the sniper gritted in his mind as he lay atop the roof of a highrise building, near the ledging. His high-powered rifle was pointed out in front of him, locked in a firm grasp, a finger on the trigger. His left eye was cinched shut, the right trained on the rifle's sightscope and aimed at Brenner and the WI that was terrorizing him, a quarter of a mile away from the sniper's position.

Come on, slow down, just one more time, he thought on in frustration and tenseness. Give me one more good shot at you...

_What was that?!_ snapped his internal voice as he heard brief snips of buzzing coming from all around.

He broke quickly from his lying flat position and stood up yet bent forth a bit to ready himself for trouble. His rifle was still pointed forth, tightly gripped and trigger ready. He madly swept a 360 degree spin as the buzzing flits sounded, echoed all around once more. Still nothing in sight but the normal scenery of the approaching midnight.

But he knew they were coming, he knew they were the wasps, the WI's, and that he was surrounded. And instantly it was clear to him why the wasp attacking Brenner was so fidgety and difficult to pin down for the kill. It had been playing not only with the poor soul of a traitorous executive, but the sniper as well.

Suddenly, from behind him on the other end of the building's roof, an enlargened wasp sprung into view and shot up into the star-muddled sky.

The sniper turned and fast-raised his rifle to track the highflying insect in an attempt to shoot it out of the sky.

But just as he got a decent aim on the cursed thing, another wasp zippingly ascended from just behind him, just beyond the ledge.

He whipped about again and rifle-scoped his aim on the new arrival.

But it was of no use as a third wasp soared into view and upward to the blackened heavens—this time from his left as his body faced the ledge near him. He turned toward the thing's flight but only tracked it with his eyes this time.

_Then,_ from his previous right and now his back, a fourth wasp zinged into view—but it did not follow its brethren on up into the sky above.

Instead, it laterally flew at a rapid pace straight at the flustered, nervous rifleman.

He ventured a turn to witness the creature yet snap-changed his movements to a desperate crouch and fold of his body as he sensed and heard the aerial demon spearing toward him. He had made the duck just in the nick of time and the winged freak zipped over him to travel swiftly on.

Now the sniper was convulsively looking all about, attempting to be vigilant of his entire surroundings.

A WI from way on high flew into position directly above the man and proceeded to dive straight down at him.

He caught the nose-dive maneuver and pointed his rifle directly upward to try a shot.

But the wasp banked sharply and darted away from his crosshairs.

Just as this happened, another WI jetted in from his blindside and skimmed his scalp, knocking the rifle downward and to his waist in a violent arc. It flew on, wings buzzing with a shrilling blur of vision and sound.

He brought his rifle back up to scope-aim the retreating wasp—but just as he managed a proper aim, yet another wasp swooped in from his rear and actually landed on him, harnessing his backside and poised to sting if it so desired. The man spun another 360 degree, spiraling himself down to the roofing as he did so. But the wasp bounded back into the air again before it could be possibly trapped in between the man and the roofing.

The man did not recover, instead chose to remain flat on his back, poising his weapon upward and ready to aim it at anything that came near.

One flew overhead. His rifle tensed in his grasps. Another flew over. He shot off a round—what the hell, he thought, keep those devils on their toes.

But this lying flat tactic was not going to serve him well for long, for now all six wasps were diving in from equidistant and far away positions, angling to close in and converge on the man's flattened form.

He brought his chin to his chest, and from his point of view one WI was zooming in from the direction of the sniper's feet. _At least I can get you before the others get me_ , he rationed as he set his scope crosshairs to zero in on the wasp that seemed to be heading straight for his groin section. It was rapidly closing in. He took a shot but missed as the WI had altered its trajectory slightly to avoid the shrilling bullet. He shot once more, but again the cursed flyer corrected its course to soar forth unscathed. So the man just decided to shoot wildly in the path of it. The mad ploy worked and a lucky shot took out a wing of the wasp. It jerkingly spun out and lost altitude disappearing below the opposite ledge.

But the other five were closing in too rapidly for the frantic man to get another proper shot off—though he tried for a second hit regardless. It went wild, of course, and missed any of its intended targets.

And before he could defensively react any further, the five maddeningly crisscrossed over him, barely missing each other; the passing seemed to be so perfectly timed to avoid collision yet physically and mentally disorient the man's senses. The final passer zipped by close enough to viciously graze the front of the man, causing him to immediately roll sideways at least three full rotations.

The violence and abruptness of the rolls forced the man to unhand his rifle and it rested on the roofing behind him. Quickly, he rolled back to try and clutch the weapon once more—but another wasp curved down to hit and roll him back away from the rifle.

Immediately after that, yet another WI swooped down and nudged the rifle close to the edge—and clackingly over it. The long metal fell far to the ground below, useless now.

The five remaining WI's all dove in at once and created a close, hovering circle just above the downed and unarmed man. Just try and run, the wasps seemed to be baiting him. But the man knew he was had, so he simply sat up and casually raised his arms to his sides—as if to say, okay, you damned devils, what now?

But the next thing that the wasps did was something that the man wasn't and couldn't be aware of. They sent a mindhive signal to WI-8 that the coast was clear to take down Brenner.

Which Eight did with pure delight.

Chapter 3

Erin was running.

Actually, more like hobbling furiously, lame-jogging her way through a pinball obstacle course of trees in a forest. Bouncing off trunk after trunk of Redwoods in an exhaustive stupor. Finally she leaned herself on a tree of massive diameter and wheezed out breath after breath. Her brow was sweat-soaked over eyes of terror and shock. "This can't be happening," she kept breathing out.

It continued until soon a voice from a far off distance cried out with malice, _"Motherrrrrrrr...!"_

Erin cried back, "Jessie! _Please..._ don't hurt me!"

"I won't hurt you, mother, if you come back now!"

"You're lying!"

" _Motherrr..._ don't make me come get you!"

"You're one of _them!_ I know who you are, _what_ you are!"

"Come on, mother...!" And Jessie came into view from a close network of thickened trees a hundred feet off from Erin. "Let's talk about this!" Jessie finished.

"Stay away from me!" Erin hollered hysterically and proceeded to travel on briskly again despite her damaged leg. On away from her daughter.

Jessie expelled a breath out her nose in exasperation while pursing her lips. She shook her head briefly then casually moved forth to track her mother once more. "The running's not good for your leg, mother!" she mockingly advised as she walked—and produced a silencer-added pistol to hold out in front of her, pointed somewhat downward. She gripped it with both hands like a seasoned professional. She was lethal now, she was a stone killer.

"They've offered you a place too, mother!" she said on, trying to reason. "They promise to treat you well...so long as you don't try to make trouble... _so long_ as you don't try to stop me from doing what I need to do for them!"

"Stay back!" Erin bellowed from far off.

"Oh, _stop_ being such a _child,_ mother!" And Jessie picked up the pace a bit, though still avoided running. "You know by now that you can't get away! And hobbling quickly on a bum leg is just going to tire you out _real fast!_ So just stop this pointless and childish crap! Come back now!"

Through hoarse, whining breaths of growing fatigue, Erin yelled back, "You're not my daughter! You're a monster now!"

Jess was increasing her trot speed. It wasn't long before she had her mother in her sights yet again.

"Hey!" Jessie called to her. Then aimed her pistol at her mother's good leg.

And fired an almost noiseless shot.

Her mother screamed abruptly, immediately faltering to the dirted ground in a staggered heap.

Jessie kept coming toward her. It was but only matter of seconds before she was standing in front of her mother. Jess looked down on her, and Erin up at Jess.

In shock and agony, Erin said, "You shot me..."

"Mmm yep," Jessie acknowledged calmly. "I clearly didn't miss, your left thigh has a hole with blood pouring out of it."

"How could you do this? How could you _do this?!"_ Erin was clutching her right thigh with both hands over the bullet wound. But it was a lame stopper, of course, and the blood kept leaking from the deep wound.

"It's easy as pie if you have the will, mother," Jess coolly responded. "You wouldn't stop so I _made_ you stop. _Now_ we can talk things over without shouting into the damn wind."

But Erin decided to shout anyway. "I'm your mother! I'm your mother and you shot me!!!"

"If you don't calm down, I'll shoot you a second time...and you may be my mother, but Pear-Paul is my family now. The true guardians of my mind, body, and soul. And you...you run a distant second these days."

Erin looked down and cried in defeat and ongoing waves of physical agony.

Jess asked, "Do you know what real power is...? Have you ever felt its overwhelming and euphoric surge throughout your entire being? I doubt that you have, otherwise you would willingly walk with me."

Through her wrenches of distraught pain, Erin countered, "I've felt overwhelming love that a mother has for her daughter, for her family..."

"Well, I have a larger family now, mommy dear. And they don't bother themselves with anything as trite and childish as _love._ Love can tear you up, love can degrade, _love_...can destroy a person. But power... _true_ power...now that can build and keep building."

Erin began to hear a strange ripping and creeping sound coming from where Jess was standing. She slowly ventured a look up at her daughter, curiosity that old hat of hers dominating her brain.

What she saw happening to her daughter horrified her beyond reckoning.

The alien-like sounds continued as Jessie began sprouting blackened and glintingly smooth rods from the sides of her torso. The rods were roughly three inches in diameter and growing, extending with each passing second. There were eight in all. The rods turned out to be segmented, jointed—and as they branched out to about seven or eight feet from her, they commenced bending forth at the joints, adopting a hideously crooked and threatening formation of an arachnid's demonic legs...

...A black widow's legs.

And Erin had screamed throughout the entire growth and forming of them.

Jessie's voice became almost tranced. "Can I show my power, mommy dear? Can I show you _our_ power?"

Somehow, Erin managed, "Jessie...I love you so much...don't do this...don't be this _thing—_ "

"I love you too, mommy dear..." Jess droned on in that ethered tone. "...Let me show you how much..."

Erin screamed ever-so-much louder as bulbous spider eyes began erupting from her daughter's cheeks like strange alien pustules of shining black. Jess' _own_ eyes split into fours and were forced to peel back with gelatinous oozing as slickened and opaque spider fangs protruded forth and soon became quite prominent juts from her eye sockets. Dewdrops of venom formed tiny balloons from the thorny tips of the fangs.

Although most of Jessie's face had altered, become more spiderous, her mouth remained human, and it spoke, "Come here now...you're for me..."

And Jessie—or was it now Janicie?—descended on Erin, its expansive and crooked legs bent in to ready their enfold of the shaking Erin.

The mother shrieked at full tilt, "JESSIE, PLEEEEEASE!!!"

But the girl/spider fell upon her anyway, caging her with its new and wretched, creeping legs, scooping her up and forth. So that the eyefangs could be in proper position just over Erin's own widened, bulging eyes of shock and dread. Toxin oozed from the double thorns, now just an inch from their targets.

The multiple cheek eyes swiveled in delight as the human/spider head reared itself back to give it a bit of a cocking position.

All Erin could do was scream maddeningly.

The head arc-shot forth and the eyefangs dove stabbingly into Erin's eyes shoving them all the way into her brain. The pierced woman convulsed and gurgled a shriek of deep misery.

The Jessie/spider jerked a bit with euphoric tension and vibrating satisfaction as it transferred all its venom into Erin's skull. The screeching, wavy cries of ultimate torment continued from her quivering, taughtly yawned mouth...

Erin exploded awake from her nightmarish, almost heart-stopping dream, screaming horridly as she had within the neural illusion. Curt was next to her in the bed that Ell-Bau provided for them. An instant after she violently flailed herself awake, she caused him to do so too. He quick grabbed at Erin to stabilize her, yelling, "Erin! ERIN!"

" _Oh God!_ Oh God!" she hoarsed out in almost uncomprehending fear as she sat up, breathing hard in Curt's grasp.

"You're okay! You're okay, you had another nightmare," Curt told her to get her calmed and into the waking reality.

This was the third nightmare-filled night that both had endured since Jessie had been taken away to Pear-Paul's charge. The first two nights the whole of the protective custody recipients had all bunked in the same cleared out office space. But after experiencing multiple nightmares from Erin and Sophie, the "guests" of Ell-Bau had been dispersed to other small sections of the building. Erin had even offered to Curt that he could bunk in a different room if he needed to. Admirably, he refused. Truthfully, he wasn't sleeping too well in the first place.

In fact, Curt was only half asleep as Erin had burst from her dream screaming full force.

"God help me, Curt," Erin whined on in hysterics, "I can't take any more of this..."

"We gotta stay strong for Jessie, Erin," He tried to steel her with, "We can't fold and go to pieces. She's going to need us when we get her back—and we _will_ get her back."

"In the meantime, I'm going out of my mind, Curt!"

"I know, I know," he agreed, empathized as he held her closer. "I know, me too."

Neither could get anymore sleep that night.

Chapter 4

The black minivan with the severely dark tinted windows pulled up to the front entrance of the mid-western branch HQ of Pear-Paul. As soon as it whiplashed to a halt, the two front doors and the sliding back doors opened up, expelling men in paratrooper fatigues who stepped onto the street. Two of them pulled out a handcuffed and tape-bound mouthed man and forcefully escorted him toward the entrance of the HQ. The others flanked and followed, their guns poised and ready, eyes roving about for trouble. At 2:45 A.M. they didn't anticipate any, but better safe than slaughtered. Within a matter of seconds they had all entered the building and the scene was peaceful once more.

The elevator doors split apart on the H.Q.'s sixth floor revealing the paratrooper-clad security agents surrounding the bound and gagged man. They escorted him forth and exited the car to walk the hallway. When they got to a certain door, they halted, one agent opened up the door. When it was wide enough, they all entered to find without surprise two more agents standing guard over a woman. She was seated in a chair, also bound and taped across the mouth.

The two captives stared at each other. As if they knew one another. And as it turned out they did. They had both been conversing with each other at the table outside the Italian bistro. Right behind Dean.

The woman was Alessandra—the one who had spoken to Dean, given him instructions for Grishenko, taken Dean's money.

The man was her associate, her longtime companion, and her lover. His name was Andreavich, but those who knew him called him Andre or Devon, his middle name. Alessandra always called him Andy. And he always called her Aly.

Right now neither of them could say anything. Only eye each other and wait for what was to come.

Another chair was brought in and placed next to the other, a few feet between.

Andre was manhandled into the chair and further bound to it with heavy wrappings of duct tape.

When he was fully secured, the agents moved to the sides of their captives and faced the door. Were they waiting for someone, both Aly and Andre pondered. And in the next instant they discovered that was true.

In through the door walked Stanford with an expression of stony resolve. This was official business, of course, but it was also deeply personal to him. He stared down the prisoners with a piercing coldness.

"Well," Stanford began, "I should have guessed it would be you two, being forever Grishenko's faithful back-up. What did he promise you after his death—millions for life upon completion of this one last task for him? Hm? Or was it something deeper than that? _Well_ , whatever the reason may be, you're no longer his lapdogs, not after today. Because Veejay and Beeche here..." Stanford flicked his eyes toward two particularly large agents—who, in turn, drew their eyes upon the seatbound pair. "They're staying here with you. And it's at their discretion when they'll begin beating you to death. But when they do commence, the misery will be the absolute longest that it can be. And that's it. Boys, I leave you to it."

And Stanford left without another word. The other agents save for Veejay and Beeche followed him out, closing the door fully behind them.

Chapter 5

It was 8:30 in the morning and the protected ones had gathered in one room of Ell-Bau to have breakfast and yawn repeatedly. As it turned out, despite having separate rooms now, everyone still found sleep to be a scarcity. Most of them had serious darkened rings around their eyes. Slumped postures were all about.

Ellison and Bauer, however, were standing fully erect as they faced their new charges.

Ellison spoke, "Morning, everyone. I hope everyone is finding breakfast agreeable. Unfortunately, it seems as if the new sleeping arrangements appear to not be improving your ability to rest."

Erin said without wait, "Mr. Ellison, thank you for all that you are doing for us, but I can't take this. What is your plan for getting Jessie back? Do you have that formulated now?"

"We do, and in fact, it has been in place since before Jessie's transfer."

"Terrific, what is it?" she asked with bite.

"Well please understand, her bodily condition means that the plan we have in mind will have to be delayed until she is properly healed—which could be a few weeks."

"Oh God..." Erin uttered as she dove her head into her elbow-supported hands. Curt put his arm around her and moved himself closer to try and comfort her.

"But one important thing to remember," Bauer cut in, "is that _their_ plan hinges on Jessie getting better as well. They're not going to harm her in any way while she's convalescing—or even afterwards."

"That's all well and good, Mr. Bauer," Curt responded, "but just that fact that these devils have her and we don't is—"

"Maddening, yes. Believe me, we care about her just as much as all of you do."

"Not to be combative, Mr. Bauer, but I highly doubt that."

"The point, I think," Ellison said, "is that we all love Jessica—you as her family, we as chosen who want to see our own flourish. But the plan is _dependent_ on Jess being in top physical condition should she need to run or fight. She's not there yet—and thus we have no choice but to wait."

"In the meantime, we lose our minds," Al interjected with fervor.

"In the meantime, we hold each other together. What good does it do for Jessie to return to you and us if we've all fallen apart, what does it do for others? There's more at stake here than the people in this room. Please try to remember that."

But Sophie added, "I'm afraid that all we can see right now is that they have our Jessie. And God knows how they might be trying to-to turn her against us, against _all_ of us."

"If our people have done their job well enough, she should be shielded from any of that."

"Can you offer us a complete guarantee on that?" Pahti chimed in with tremendous concern to his voice. "I mean, what if they are at her constantly, for hours and days? Who can withstand that sort of thing over time?"

"That would involve a good measure of sleep deprivation from what our experts have informed us. And like Bauer said, they want her in good health. Her speedy recovery will be their top priority. If they have an angle over her, some sort of leverage, it will likely be something that is, well..."

"That is what?" Dean asked raptly.

"Beyond our anticipation or control—but _again_ , they can't put it into play _until_ she has recovered. And by then, _she_ will have her own plan out into play. Let's not forget, as much as you think they may be controlling her, the absolute reverse is likely true."

"I hope you're right," Erin barked curtly as she lifted her face from her hands to stare down Ellison and Bauer. "I hope so...because if something horrible happens to her, then I can't be held responsible for what might happen. What I might do."

No one knew what to say after that. It might have had something to do with the fact that none of them wanted to fully contemplate the implications of that possible outcome.

Chapter 6

While the breakfast meet was taking place, Aly and Andre were still strapped to chairs in a room with Veejay and Beeche in a room on Pear-Paul's dreaded sixth floor. The place where troublemakers of the massive and mighty corporation occasionally ended up when they needed to be painfully coerced.

Or just plain tortured unbearably before dying.

But the two captives hadn't been touched yet. In fact, both agents of the Pear-Paul had decided to get some rest at different intervals. Veejay slept for about five and a half hours then awoke to relieve Beeche in standing watch over the chairbound couple. While Beeche proceeded to take Veejay's place against the wall and seated on the floor. Not long after he closed his eyes was Beeche fast asleep and snoring lightly.

Veejay did nothing more than stare blankly at the captives; watching to simply make sure that neither of them had an insane notion of attempting escape. It was pretty much a foregone conclusion that the two were snugly taped to the chairs and getting free would be an impossibility, if not nearly impossible.

Still, the boys liked to be sure.

And besides, the two chair mates were "sweating bullets" as they say. Though Beeche couldn't tell for sure whether it was the poor ventilation or the pair's nerves—he, himself, had a bit of perspiration working—but he like to think it was the suffering of anticipation causing them to drip sweat. It seemed to be getting worse with each passing hour with them—which seemed to support Beeche's theory. They also seemed to be shaking with greater intensity as the moments dragged on. This also fed into his assumptions that the two prisoners' fear was mounting. It never occurred to him that it might be something else entirely—despite Beeche's heightened intelligence. His certainty in the matter even caused him to smirk at the two in front of him. To approach them and stand only six inches apart from them, so that he could observe the psychological torment that was being played out on their faces even closer. He felt safe at this distance from them, as he felt safe in his assumption of their mental and physical state. And so even now he didn't anticipate that their condition was the result of something else altogether.

Something that came from a pill.

He reached down to the woman and tore off the tape over her mouth. She was breathing heavy, quickly.

"Hey, not to worry, little lady," Beeche mockingly soothed, "When my friend wakes up, we will begin."

Instead of crying, as Beeche thought she might, she gritted her teeth and screeched, "Noooo, _nowwwww."_

With mad and instant force, she tilted back while jamming her bound legs into Beeche's chin and throat. He buckled forth and faltered to one knee, choking for air.

But she knew he would be recovering soon. She was already in motion to recover, herself, as her move to strike naturally slammed her down on her backside. She whip-rolled over to her side until her knees met the floor.

Andre was into action as well, performing roughly the same maneuver.

Which saved his life as Veejay had awakened and pulled his silencer attached gun to fire at Andre. The bullet banged the side of the chair and—since being a hardened metal and sturdy chair—it ricocheted off and then did so again off the wall. Both Veejay and Beeche covered their heads and ducked down as multiple ricochets of the bullet caused it to zing wildly around the room.

But their efforts—or Veejay's to be more specific—were for naught as the bullet's trajectory ended up right back to the owner.

Right into his mouth cavity.

Veejay screamed shrillingly, desperately as he crouched forth even more and fell to the floor. He writhed in agony.

Beeche was still on one knee, gasping for much needed air as he groped joltingly, maddeningly for his own silenced pistol. He managed to pull it from its holster and point it at the captives.

But Aly had already managed an adrenalin hop from her knees to her feet. And, positioning herself with her back to Beeche, she vaulted herself into the air toward him.

The move was so inhumanly fast that Beeche couldn't even get off a shot before he was hit with the bottom side of Aly and the chair. Both she and Beeche went careening backward, and she landed on top of him, seated upright once more, as he hit the floor, sprawled out on his back. The legs of the chair caged him a bit, and his gun arm was viced between the chair and his chest. He wrestled with the wedging to get it free. She was watching his every move.

Andre was also on the move, making the same hop to his feet from his knees. He was now making insane hops over to the agony-flailing form of Veejay near the wall. Andre's goal was the gun now lying dormant on the floor.

Beeche almost had his gun arm free—but just as he did, she instantly hopped up while repositioning herself and the chair to then jab his gun arm in the bicep with piercing chair leg. The weight and the force of the spearing caused him to cry out and loose grip of his gun.

She hopped up and repositioned herself again with even greater force to stab another chair leg into Beeche's groin.

He screamed in bitter misery.

Andre made it over toward the dropped gun of Veejay's and fell himself over on his side so that his bound hands were in position to scoop up the piece.

Though Beeche was in utter agony, he was still able to mobilize himself, and he used his free arm to help his body shove her off of him. She fell to her side in a thud and she grunted.

But now another problem existed for him—she was lying on his gun.

He dove in to dig it out from underneath her. She tried to press on it with her shoulder and upper arm to make it more difficult. But it wasn't long before he was able to fully dislodge the weapon and pull it free.

He staggeringly got to his feet and went to aim the gun at her head—but then noticed something much more alarming: the other captive now had Veejay's pistol.

And it was pointed straight at Beeche.

He redirected his aim at Andre but it was a fraction of a second too late, and three rapid-fire bullets ripped white-hot into his lungs and heart.

Even tied up and pumped up on adrenalin enhancers, Andre was simply a crack shot.

Beeche, though mortally wounded and soon to expire, still tried to squeeze off a round.

Andre pumped him with two more shots in the chest and the head.

Beeche fell over and crumpled to the floor, dropping his gun in the process.

He belched a long death rattle, then left the world with one final breath.

Veejay was still writhing and vomiting sounds of deep and gurgling pain, over and over.

"Will you _please_ already?" Aly barked at Andre.

He repositioned himself and his aim toward Veejay, and fired away. Veejay ceased his horrid hollerings seconds later; his dark light following Beeche's down into the depths.

"Thank you," Aly said.

" _Mmm-m-mm!"_ Andre muffled to her, his mouth still taped.

"Hold on!" she said in exasperation. "Let me hop over there and I'll help you. Check him for a knife and I'll check this one."

They proceeded to awkwardly approach the two corpses closest to their positions and rifled through their pockets for knives. Both chairbounds found blades they could use on each other's duct tape bindings.

Four minutes later they were totally free from the chairs and, again, pilfering the pockets of the recently deceased for I.D. badges. They found them and began taking off the agents' clothing. Andre would more or less fit into one of the behemoths' paratrooper uniform. Yet Aly would need some serious tightening of the belt around the waist and some more tucking in of the pants legs into the boots.

But they were going to make it work. They'd come this far and they weren't going to let little details like uniform size derail their escape attempt.

Rapidly they put on the uniforms, leaving the slackened corpses of Beeche and Veejay in their undershirts and shorts. Naturally, they were going to have to find a way to explain the blood stains—and they quickly came to a solution: if anybody came close enough to notice, they would just be shot.

Of course, both soon agreed that they were just going to have to kill everyone on the lobby floor anyway.

Just for good measure.

They walked down the hall and got on the elevator. While on it, they faced each other.

"You got the equalizer, my heart's about ready to jump out of my chest!" Aly raced out.

"I hear ya," he agreed and pulled out the equalizing pills—one for each of them. They swallowed them down and forced them into their stomachs.

"Is your router working?" she asked.

Before they had switched clothes, his wireless router/harddrive had been built into the buckle of his belt. But now that he had the uniform on, he simply kept it in his pocket.

And since he had a chance to activated it, it was downloading specific files from Pear-Paul's mainframe harddrive. No need for plugging in or trying to find the files yourself. The device knew exactly what to look for and knew how to get around any security measures to access and download/upload the files. Anything with the name "wasp" was accessed and acquired.

The transfer was almost complete.

The ground floor was coming up.

"Yes, come in," Stanford said as he sat in his office looking over reports when a curt knocking was heard at the door. It opened and one of the security agents burst his head through.

"Sir," the agent called out tensely, "the detainees have escaped!"

Stanford kept calmly seated at his desk but his eyes tightened, "Where's Beeche and Veejay?"

"Dead, sir." The agent's tense tone remained. "And so is everyone in the lobby."

The door swung wide to the interrogation room on the sixth floor to reveal Stanford and two other agents. They entered slowly, none looked too happy about what they found.

Veejay and Beeche were still splayed lazily on the floor, their skivvies soaked in blood and trailing down to pools of it on the floor.

Stanford walked forth ahead of the other two and got close to the corpse without stepping in a puddle—which wasn't too easy.

He looked down upon what used to be his two meanest and toughest agents, now just a pair of worthless masses soiling blood on a previously pristine white floor.

He wanted to kill them all over again.

Instead, he settled for viciously kicking the paled gut sections of both corpses.

He indulged his blinding anger through kicking them for good minute then composed himself, fixed his jacket collar, and told the agents behind him to bring in the cleanup crew. He left the room without another word.

Chapter 7

The weeks were passing. And Jess was improving more and more, getting out of bed and going for extensive walks on the roof of the Pear-Paul HQ.

Under close, guarded supervision, of course. A quick jump off the roof to end her life was simply not an option for her.

Ironically, her mother, Erin, also spent time on the roof of Ell-Bau's HQ, walking to try and stay busy. To try and keep her sanity. Which was no small task. Erin was also closely guarded to make sure she didn't take a header off the side.

Beyond that, the protected were given other activities rather in the same manner Jess was. Movies were made available, reading material given to whoever was inclined to partake, and the inhouse exercise gym was open to any and all.

But no matter what any of the protected did, it wasn't enough to shake their minds of the stark reality. That Jessie was in the arms of the worst sociopaths imaginable.

The shadowy rings around the Ell-Bau guests' eyes were growing darker and more purplish by the day.

Chapter 8

Jess had healed. Granted, a bit of stiffness still existed throughout her body, but she was able to move around with more than adequate flexibility.

And this she couldn't hide for it was, indeed, true what Stanford predicted—Jess _was_ anxious to be limber enough to put their strategy into play. She was nervous, but also exhilarated.

She just had to get Stanford alone.

But it was if he could read her mind, for he was not there to greet her in the mornings of the tail end of her convalescence.

When he did finally reemerge in her presence, it was with the accompaniment of another.

"Jess," Stanford began, "this is our top martial arts specialist, Chi Gian. I've brought him here today to give you the opportunity to heighten your skills. If you're willing."

Jess merely looked at them. Then said, _"You_ wanna help me improve my fighting skills?"

"Of course. If you're going to be performing for us, we need you at the top of your abilities. Your technique is sufficient for what you've learned so far. But Mr. Gian here can certainly bring you to your full potential."

Now Jess had a serious decision to make. If she accepted the further assistance of these human jackals, it would lengthen her stay here—which would ware on her mind's stability, as she knew it would be waring on her family and friends in the same way.

But if she willingly allowed the enhancement of her fighting knowledge, she would also have a better chance of combating these human insects should it be necessary to escape.

Yet another thing to consider quite quickly was that they would likely enforce the training on her regardless—despite Stanford's false politeness in the offer.

_And_ she wasn't alone with Stanford just yet...

"Well, Miss Belaski...what do you think? You ready to take yourself to the next level?"

She zigzagged her eyes briefly, then brought them back to Stanford and Gian once more. "Sounds great," she responded coolly.

"Perfect. Gian will collect you tomorrow morning at nine. Please be ready for him, yes?"

"Absolutely," she said flatly.

"In the meantime, enjoy the confines of your room—or the gym if you want to bring yourself back to full flexibility before tomorrow. Personally, I would choose the latter, yes?"

"Sure."

Chapter 9

There was a bit of a secret meeting in the fitness gym of Ell-Bau—a meeting of the young chosen.

And it was Pahti who initiated the impromptu and unauthorized meeting between himself and the whole of Thresher group. Mill included.

"Okay, Pahti, what is this whole thing here?" Mill inquired.

"It's about Jess, of course," Pahti said at once. "We have to do something! We can't just sit here waiting for something horrible to happen to her!"

"Hey look, Pahti, we are all wrenched about this as much as you are, but you just don't walk into Pear-Paul and expect to just take what you want. You know who we all are—and that they can see us coming a quarter mile away."

"I know, that's why I think we should _hire_ some people to go in and get her! I mean, this is _insane_ —what are they doing to her _right now?!_ What has _already_ been done?!

"There are, like, mercenaries, are there not?!"

"Of course."

"Why don't we hire a team to pose as firemen or something to go in and get her out?!"

"First of all, you've got to calm down because you're not thinking clearly. Second, we can't hire a merc team because Pear-Paul as a global entity is and has been familiar with every merc outfit or independent for-hire in existence today. They know because they've used them.

"You just have to trust that Ellison's plan will work when the time is right."

"His plan, pardon me, is lunacy!"

"Well then _what_ do you suggest?"

" _Something_ , dammit! We can't just wait!"

Mill contemplated for a brief moment. Then he said, "All right, listen, we will talk this over, the whole of Thresher, possibly come up with something that might be viable...and then we'll meet up with you again. _But,_ we don't put anything into action until it's run by Ellison."

Pahti lowered his head a bit while zigzagging his eyes in consideration. Then he stared at the group again and said, "Very well—but please don't take too long, because this is _killing_ me inside!"

Chapter 10

Jess had showered, eaten, and dressed by 8:50 A.M. By 8:58 she was present in the physical training room inside Pear-Paul, where Gian was waiting for her.

"I observed your fighting..." Gian started without a formal greeting. "...On the cliff. Your techniques are impressive—to a degree. In our sessions here you will become stronger and faster. The young boy you fought was beyond your skills, that was obvious—unless you were holding back to trick him. Your little fake-out at the end saved you, but you could have died from internal injury."

Exactly how much of my fake-out was he _and_ they aware of, she quickly and nervously wondered. Could they have zoomed in close on Bernard's face to know that he was in the stupor of a hypnotic haze? Did they have high-powered lens taking photos? Video? How deep am I in?

"Had to risk it," she said in response.

"I see," he retorted challengingly, "But are you willing to do the same here with me? I trained Bernard for a few months and he practically destroyed you out there. And I wasn't even finished with what I could give him.

"So now. I want you to come at me with everything that you have. And if you hold back in anyway I'll punish you for it. I'll know, and you'll receive blows that will carve you up—but still leave you mobile. So _don't_ cheat me, little girl."

There was a stark intensity in his eyes. And she knew right away that she was to take him at his word—that she would have to go all in with her attack, despite some of the general stiffness in her physique.

Gian formed himself into a fighting stance, readying his body and mind for any attack.

She did the same, prepared to show him exactly what she was capable of.

She came at him and let loose with a volley of arm swings and kicks. They were quick and certainly possible of causing injury.

If they had gotten through Gian's defenses.

None did.

She paused briefly, looking for a strategy to cause a weak spot, an opening in his defenses. She saw one and took it, vaulting a straight-on kick to his head—knowing full well he'd block it. Once he did, clenching her booted foot with both his hands, she launched herself into mid-air and shot her other leg at his chest.

But he quickly released one of his holds on her first-kicked leg's boot to clutch the other thrusting boot. Instantly he spun about and swung her entirely away to crash on the floor feet behind him.

He expected her to recover fast and she did, bounding to her feet and in a defensive posture awaiting the next move.

He came at her and speared forth several different attack maneuvers to test her deflecting capabilities, her strength at fending off several blows. Thus far she didn't disappoint. But he had much more to show, to be certain, and much quicker to show it.

In the midst of the attack, she saw an opportunity to cage, vice one of his arms in a straight-lock position—with the actual intent on pressing the lock to the point of breaking his arm!

Yet Gian allowed himself to get locked in her arm caging—but immediately after, he leapt astoundingly into the air in a side-somersault. In result, his arm was released instantly, and as he was in mid-air above her for a split-second, he jabbed out his other arm to her face—to stab her in the eyes with the tips of his fingers.

He completed the somersault and landed on his feet with a serious thud, while Jess bunched her eyes shut in exquisite misery. Immediately her hands covered them in instinctive protection. She groaned with the shock of pain.

An instant later, she felt a new pierce of agony as Gian connected with a nerve cluster in her shoulder. She gritted a long moan and fell to the floor again, blinded and defenseless.

She expected more assaults, but instead she heard Gian's footsteps walking away. and his voice telling her, "Had a feeling today's session would be brief. Ice your shoulder tonight and you'll be ready for tomorrow."

She heard the door open and close, the footsteps trailing off even further...then nothing.

Nothing but the sounds of her bated breath and grunts to handle the pain.

Chapter 11

Pahti was waiting, and impatiently so. The Threshers were supposed to have met up with him again after discussing new proposals to rescue Jessie. Being the next day from their first meeting, he'd hoped for some strong suggestions. Hoped and prayed. And slept little.

Finally, Mill and the others arrived—and thankfully not with any of the adults in tow. Pahti didn't want anyone talking him out of this.

"Well?" Pahti asked Mill with expectant eyes.

"Well..." Mill began a breath expelled, "...we've come up with some things..."

"Good, good, tell me."

"One of us suggested that we simply go over there and offer ourselves up for capture, get a feel for the layout inside, then concoct some sort of daredevil extraction plan. Now—what would be the downside of that?"

"They would likely see right through that...and kill you on the spot."

"Right, we agree on that. Now, from what Dean was telling us, there is a secret entranceway to the building. However, the door to the pathway is locked from the outside, and there is no key to it."

"Can you, like, blow up the door or something?"

"Possibly. But we haven't actually seen the door or know what it's made of. Neither has Dean. He only knows what that man, Grishenko, told him."

"Assuming it _can_ be taken down, what then?"

"Well then, it's an elevator ride to the executive floors where we could possibly break in and take one of their execs, maybe even the top man himself, Stanford Jordan."

"You mean to then do some sort of prisoner exchange?"

"Possibly. But think that scenario through."

"...They...might not see their top man as collateral enough for Jessie. Particularly with what they have planned for her—which is to bring us to our knees somehow. They could always bring in a new top man to run the company."

"That is what we concluded too."

Weakly, desperately, Pahti asked, "Any other scenario or option?"

"No others that don't involve jeopardizing either our safety or Jess'."

Pahti turned from them and walked away to the opposite end of the room, stood motionless and noiseless for a brief moment...

...Then lowered himself to the floor to sit with his face in his hands.

Mill could sympathize, for he felt like doing the same thing. Instead he approached Pahti gingerly and kneeled down beside him.

To Pahti he softly said, "I know you feel trapped, believe me, I do. But our best hope is to _trust_ that Jessie can do what she needs to when the time is right."

"It's hard," Pahti said from beneath his hands, "It's so hard..."

"Yes it is...as you had probably noticed, I've pretty much fallen for her."

"How are you keeping it together then?"

"...By knowing that I have to for her. If something goes down and the plan works, then I want to be solid and ready."

"But I'm not part of your team."

"But you _are_ part of our kind. Do you think it would help Jess when she comes back to know that you had a nervous breakdown?"

"No. You're right, of course."

Mill placed a hand on Pahti's shoulder. "It can't be much longer now," he encouraged.

Pahti lowered his hands from his face revealing that some tears had fallen from his eyes. He nodded in acknowledgement of Mill's last words.

"About the wasp situation," Nick Bauer announced to Ellison as they were standing next to each other out of Ellison's office window.

Ellison, still viewing the city, said in response, "You wish to head it up, I presume."

"I do. Unfortunately, I gave my word on the matter to Grishenko."

"It appears, then, that you'll be doing quite a bit of globe-hopping soon."

"I'll need a tech team to come up with a viable solution of elimination for every last one of those things."

"You'll have our best. The team will meet you in the conference room in fifteen."

"That'll be perfect, thanks."

Ellison nodded, pursing his lips. "It's damn good to have you back, son. You were missed around here, I mean that."

"I know...When I left all those years back, I felt like I was leaving my family. There has been a hole in my life since the departure...But even now that I've returned, I..."

"You still don't feel whole—because of what we must now face."

Nick nodded.

"Well we must win then," Ellison said with a bit of a sparkle in his eyes as he turned his head to face Bauer. "I mean, I simply can't have you going on an extended sabbatical again. One fifteen year period is all I can tolerate."

Bauer faced Ellison in return and said jovially, "Oh, is it now?"

"That's how it is."

Fifteen minutes later, Nick had made his way into the main conference room to meet the new group of technician specialists currently employed at Ell-Bau.

After introductions that took a minute or so, they seated themselves at the table and began.

The group leader's name was Carrie Wells, a 27-year-old woman with bobbed brown hair and glasses. She was slender and casually dressed—they all were. Bauer felt overdressed in his formal business attire.

"Thanks for meeting me here on time," Bauer said to them. "What we're here for is probably not what you're expecting. There's no program upgrades to be worked on—"

" _Aww,"_ blurted one of the team—a slender black man named Carson.

The team laughed a bit, as did Bauer. Soon they sobered.

Bauer went on. "No, what I brought you together for is to take care of the W.I. situation."

"Excuse, sir," said a rotund twenty-something of the team named Justin, "the W.I. situation?"

"Forgive my teammate, sir," Carrie covered for Justin's ignorance. "Most of us are buried away in creating programs and security upgrades. We're kind of insulated from the rest of what's going on in the world."

Bauer elaborated, "Well then, for the sake of you poor shut-ins locked away in our tech dungeon here—" This initiated a bit of laughter from the group. "—the W.I.'s are genetically modified and massively enlargened _wasps_ that have been created by Pear-Paul to successfully eliminate any threats to their corporate dominance throughout the world."

"Eeech, _really?"_ asked another tech named Jan.

"Wicked," uttered Justin, a bit fascinated.

"Do we know how many of them there are?" asked Carrie.

"No," Bauer admitted, "quite frankly, our intelligence on them is limited."

"How 'bout where they might be located throughout geographical boundaries?"

"Storage facilities could be in a number of subsidiary locations. They could be in the sewers, for all we know, with ingrained transmitters providing instructions on who to strike and where."

"I imagine another problem," Carson put in, "is that we never know _when_ they are going to strike."

"That is correct. So this is where I want all of you to start if there _is_ some sort of transceiver that's implanted within each of these things which relays instructions—or possibly even tracks their movements—then I'd like for you to do your best to identify and isolate its frequency.

"That's no small order, I know. But I've heard you guys are some of the best of the best. So do us proud, yes?"

"Count on us, sir." Said Carrie with confidence.

"All right then. Let's get to work."

Chapter 12

Although Jess was in close proximity to an opposite and malignant version of the chosen, she nevertheless was able to focus enough to learn from Gian.

And despite his inherently blackened heart, he was an extremely efficient instructor, allowing her to expand her fighting skills by leaps and bounds.

For what he was teaching her, she somehow had a perverse respect for his fighting acumen, his ability to do and pass on what seemed to be attack and defense impossibilities.

If he wasn't the sworn enemy of her kind, she would be celebrating him. If he wasn't gearing her to possibly be a supremely controlled and most deadly weapon to be unleashed upon her own.

But on the off chance that she would be able to use these combat enhancements against these human slugs trying to Trojan horse her, she allowed the instruction to go on.

Day by day, week by week, he was honing her, carving her into one of the most effective killing tools alive.

There were even further opportunities to become wholly proficient in firearms and knife handling/throwing.

Inside of a month and a half, with all that Jess was already trained with before her annexation into Pear-Paul's custody, Gian had now taught her everything he had planned to impart on her. And on schedule, he informed Stanford that the next step in the plan could be set into motion.

Now Stanford and Jessie would meet in a room—in his office—alone.

Jess opened the door of Stanford's office to find him serenely and happily sitting behind his desk. He stared at her with eyes of confidence and knowing.

Her's were neutral as she closed the door behind her and approached him.

"Jessica," he greeted invitingly, "please, have a seat." He motioned for her to sit in the chair opposite and facing him, just beyond the desk.

She took the chair and settled in it, maintaining her emotionless gaze upon him.

Stanford went on, "Gian tells me you have come along winningly. One of his best and brightest students."

"Has he?" she flatly said.

"Yes, indeed. He informs me that you are ready for what we have planned."

"Well then...what are we waiting for...let's go." On the last two words, her stare became more piercing, as if her eyes were trying to bore their way into his.

He blinked flippantly then said, "Where's the immediate fire? Let's talk for a bit, finally get to know each other after all this time—after _all_ _these years._ You know, I'm sure you don't recall but as a small child, you and I had some interesting sessions together."

"Did we?"

"Very much so. Even at such a tender age I found you to be a remarkable infant, so open to expansion of new possibilities. Being precocious, in my opinion, is always a benefit in exploring better horizons. And most assuredly when it comes to the business field. Wouldn't you agree? So tell me—what was your greatest ambition growing up?"

"I desperately wanted to become a bullfighter."

He laughed. "No, really, what was it?"

"What does it matter? Look, I like soft rock and classical music, and you have a sick affinity for bugs. Now can we stop the pointless formalities of 'getting to know ya' and get to it. _Let's go."_

Stanford's eyes were batting briefly as he countered with, "We will shortly, but I wish to discuss one more formality before we do. We'll be sending you out on some very important assignments over the next few weeks. And it's important that we have you fully on board with what we need you to do for us. So...how do we firmly establish that, hm?"

"Yes, how do you?"

"Do we...torture you, try and strap you in a chair and set you on a quite painful path of reeducation of the mind?"

For a few seconds, they simply stared at each other, both secretly confident in carrying out their long awaited plans of mind control and manipulation.

And then Jess decided to chance it, moment of truth—"We're th—"

But Stanford quickly cut her off with, "Alpha Jovial."

And suddenly, Jess' eyes went slack, lifeless, subservient to suggestion.

"...Jessica?" Stanford said.

"Yes?" she replied in a droned voice.

"What is your designate?"

"Hornet."

"Do you understand exactly what it is you need to do for me, for us?"

"Yes."

"And to the people you will do it to?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Now, before you do, I will need you to do something for me."

"Whatever you need."

"Very good. Now, I will need you to escort me at gunpoint from this building under the guise that you are still you without any of the overriding influence we now have over you."

"That can be done."

"And I want you to take me to the alleyway between Wakefield and Comstock off the main street here. It's about a half a mile away. Your people are watching, I'm sure. They'll intercept us, I'll likely be knocked unconscious—which won't be difficult for I'll be playing it as if you succeeded in hypnotizing me. And then you'll be brought back to them—where phase two will go into effect, yes?"

"Yes."

Stanford slowly rose from his chair to stand. _"Now,_ let's go."

She robotically stood, herself, and followed him out of the room.

The elevator split apart on the lobby/first floor of Pear-Paul's HQ to reveal Jess and Stanford. She was close up and somewhat to the side/behind Stanford and had a hand clawed and clasping his upper arm. Her other one was holding a gun to his temple.

The security near the front desk sprung into action and converged to the elevator's location, guns drawn and pointed.

Jess had moved Stanford forth a bit to block the doors from closing again. to the guards she hollered viciously, "Lower the guns and back off! Unless you want me to splatter him!"

"Do as she says," Stanford ordered calmly.

The guards were hesitant to comply.

"Do it. That's an order," their vice president reiterated.

"Do it!" screamed Jess.

Slowly they lowered their weapons and began backing up.

"Safety them and toss them away!" she barked.

They clicked the safety latches on their pieces and lobbed them to the ground. They clanked and slid away, out of reach.

"Now on the floor, face down!"

They obeyed, lying flat on their fronts.

Gun still to Stanford's head, she forcibly escorted him to the front doors of the lobby.

"We've got 'er in sight!" burst a lookout. He was an agent for Ell-Bau who was perched covertly on the roof of a building that was barely visible to the Pear-Paul HQ and a half a mile away. Two other highrisers near the HQ blocked most of the view of the lookout.

But the important thing was that the lobby was _still_ in view.

The comm set in his ear had received the lookout's explosive announcement, and also what followed.

"She's coming toward the doors! And she has a hostage, looks like...looks like _Stanford..."_

Jess and Stanford exited the building and began walking. She had switched her gunpoint to his lower back where it would be less visible and held him close like he was a romantic suitor. She did it so that, even from behind, the gun was concealed.

Without words they walked to the alleyway of Stanford's choosing.

To the eventual ambush.

A second Ell-Bau lookout from another location tensely reported, "Okay, I see them. They're on the move but not in a car. They're just walking, heading toward Dayton Street and...passing, heading toward Wakefield...and into an alleyway. Okay, this is it! Alleyway between Wakefield and Comsctock! Team three, move!"

Jess herded Stanford in his stoic, submissive guise into the rather narrow alleyway then travelled on to roughly the halfway point of its length. There were no others around.

She announced, "As you've probably felt, they'll be here any minute."

"You're doing splendidly," Stanford praised her. "And I _know_ you'll continue to do so."

"Thank you, sir."

"Aaaaand...here they come," he said softly so that only she could hear.

"Stanford Jordan!" a voice blasted from far down the opposite way the two came, "Get down on the ground! Now!"

Stanford easily complied. And Jess, to keep up appearances, backed away a bit but still aimed the gun on his lowering figure.

With assault rifles firmly pointed, the Ell-Bau strike team briskly but carefully approached the two. And their leader asked, "Jess, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. It worked, he's under my control," she confidently lied.

"Good work, Jess," he said and pulled out a tranquilizer gun.

"Thanks."

He shot Stanford in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. Five seconds later the human devil was out cold.

"That's it, Jess, let's bolt," the leader tightly requested.

"Okay," she responded quickly as they rushed back the way the team came in.

Chapter 13

The doors of Ell-Bau's first floor lobby were smashed aside as Team 3 hurried the surrounded Jess inside. No one was taking any chance that she might be retaken by Pear-Paul.

Or simply taken out.

She was hastened to the elevator, entered in, and the shaft car raised them to the eighth floor. While on the ride up, the scanners that once cleared Erin to make her way to the eighth now did the same for Jessie. She was clean, no foreign bodies that could pose a threat or transmit audio/video back to the enemy. Once the right floor was reached, they exited the car to find a medical team waiting for them. They promptly but politely examined Jess for signs of stress-induced trauma, malnutrition, vitals that might be off in any way. She was cleared again, perfect health. Still, she was taken to the medical wing just as a precaution.

Where here friends and family were finally allowed to see her—bursting with joy and relief.

Erin was the first to reach her.

"Jessie!" Erin belted as she wrapped her arms tight around her daughter.

"Hello, mom," Jess said warmly as she returned the firm embrace.

" _Oh my God..._ oh my God, do you have any idea—?"

"I think I've got a clue, yeah. I missed you too."

"Are you okay? Did they do anything—?"

"No, nothing, I'm fine. My plan worked like a friggen charm."

"Oh, thank God...thank God for that...you're back, you're really back..."

"What, were there any doubts?"

Erin pulled back a bit to allow her eyes to gaze on Jess'. They smiled in unison. And Erin replied, "Nah...I knew you could beat those bastards. It's just, you were gone for so long, it just frightened me."

"You look tired, mom."

"You betcha, I'm tired, I haven't been able to sleep well since you left!"

"The first couple of days all I _did_ do was sleep, I was so out of it."

"Well, you look so much better now. You look like my healthy Jess again."

"I feel good," Jess said enthusiastically, firmly. "I feel better than ever."

"Good, sweetie..." And Erin brought Jess in again for quite a close hug.

The others allowed them to continue the embrace for a few seconds more, then they spoke up about getting their chance to get close to Jess, to greet her and show their love and concern. Erin told them half jokingly that they would have to wait at least a day or two. When this drew noisy protests from everyone, she relented and released Jess to the rest.

Each of them, naturally, let flow the same sort of heartfelt greetings and outpourings of great affection that Erin had just given.

And Jess played herself with each and every one of them, conveying a complete reciprocation of their longing and relief.

The last to come near her once again was Mill.

"Hey there," he said with warm yet somewhat hesitant eyes.

"Hi, you..." Jess responded.

"Looking good..."

"Well, come here then."

And they came together in an awkward enfold, held it for a few seconds then released each other.

And then there was an awkward silence for another brief time.

It was broken by Pahti as he blurted, "Well, it's celebration time, when do we get the party started?"

Dean shouted, "Here, here!"

And the others chimed in their various and loud agreeance.

"Let's get some food!" Curt boomed.

"And Champaign, of course!" Sophie fervently added.

And while the noise and hoopla was blaring, Jess and Mill's eyes batted a bit and flitted away from each other's gaze. Soon, they turned away to merge with the boisterous, joyous crowd.

A hardy celebration was had with various foods and drink in the conference room. Many of Jess' friends and family made toasts to her—and to each other for surviving such a harrowing and trying experience. Though many of them sensed that the danger was far from over—and that they would yet have to remain under Ell-Bau's custody for the time being— _all_ were just so gladdened to have someone they cherished immensely back in their arms. And away from the human insects of Pear-Paul.

In the midst of this, however, Pahti felt inwardly off about something. He was, of course, as ecstatic as the others to see Jess alive and safe. But the slightly awkward scene between her and Mill was gnawing at the back of his mind.

And so, at some point during the course of the group's festivities, Pahti discretely pulled Mill aside and spoke with him.

"Hey, what was going on back there with you and Jess?" Pahti started, "I didn't expect you guys to make a serious pawing spectacle of yourselves in front of everyone, but I didn't expect what I saw either. What is it?"

"...I don't know..." Mill uttered as his eyes averted from Pahti's. "...Something's...different...but I can't put my finger to it. What about you, do you sense anything in the slightest about her that's out of the ordinary?"

Pahti thought hard about it. "...Nothing, no."

"I don't know, it's like when she said she felt better than ever—it struck me kinda funny...but maybe it's just this whole situation. Maybe I'm still trying to have it sink in entirely—that she's really back and all."

"We could go to Ellison about this, maybe it's something he'll need to know."

"I can't bother him with this when I don't know if it's completely warranted."

"Do you feel they've done something to her mind even though Dina did her best to shield her?"

"I suppose anything's possible...but no, I don't think she's been brainwashed or anything...I don't know, I'm just jumping at shadows here. Come on, let's not be missed by anyone for too long."

"Sure, sure," Pahti concurred, then accompanied Mill back to the conference room and the bantering raucous.

That night, when the celebration had ended, everyone managed to sleep soundly. Jess slept in the same room as Curt and Erin, which suited all there just fine. But there was an agent posted outside just in case any sort of post traumatic episode occurred with Jess. The three Belaski-Melendez's felt it unnecessary, but Ellison insisted. He wasn't going to take any chances in having some sort of emotional break happen to Jess. It was just a precaution. But it turned out to be completely unfounded as all three slept well through the night—and well into the morning.

When they were finally up and around, showered and fed a full breakfast, Ellison requested a meeting with Jess. When they met in the medical wing, a therapist and a nurse accompanied them in the conference.

"Jessica, I'm glad to have you back, you clever girl!" Ellison bolstered to her as she entered the room.

"Hello, Mr. Ellison!" Jess said back as she came forth and shook his hand with enthusiasm.

"Thank you for meeting with me, and, of course, for allowing my associates to be present here with us."

"Oh no, no at all, terrific."

"Jess, this is Doctor Lockheed," Ellison offered as he motioned toward a tall and lankish man in his mid-fifties. "And this is Nurse Price," he added motioning to another man much younger but also with a slightly gauntish frame.

"Hello," Jess greeted them with joviality. They returned the same.

Both Lockheed and Price had pens and clipboards viced with official psych evaluation forms on them. Both men were ready to fill them out.

"Go ahead and have a seat, Jess," Ellison said to Jess as he motioned her toward the medical bed near him and his associates. She walked over and hopped up on the raised thing to sit. Her legs dangled. "Now truthfully it seems to me that you're likely not going to need my friends here for any reason. But..."

"On the off-chance I have any residual post traumatic emotional episodes due to the questions you might ask me," Jess helped out, "it's good to have them here as a precautionary measure. It's okay, I don't mind, if I were you, I'd want to do the same thing."

"Perfect, I'm glad you understand. Really, they'll just be observing while you and I talk."

"Great."

"Okay, Jess, now..." Ellison blew out a long breath, "...obviously any intel you gained while your internment at Pear-Paul would be greatly appreciated. But first, I just wanted to show my sincere concern at the length of your stay."

"Of course. Extra training with hand to hand combat and firearms were offered after the end of my convalescence."

"I see. And you allowed the training or was it forced on you?"

"It was a difficult decision, knowing that what I was learning could potentially be used against the people I care about."

"But you also knew it could give you a better chance of escape."

"Yes."

"And there were no extended periods of forced isolation or deprivation of any kind?"

"No, nothing like that. Honestly, it was just recovery then right into training. I don't know which was worse." She cracked a toothy grin.

The other three smiled at her dry humor.

"So now when Stanford was under your hypnotic command, did he offer up any intel that could be useful—with any of their operations, their plans for us? Anything regarding specifics on the wasps?"

"Um..." and Jess grimaced in a strong gesture of sympathy for her elderly mentor and his medical experts. "...no, I'm sorry, Mister Ellison, about the wasps he gave nothing. But Stanford _did_ relay to me his plans directly concerning everyone at Ell-Bau, concerning you..." A look of dejection and pity materialized in her eyes.

"Jess, it's okay," he soothed, "Whatever it is that they have planned, no matter how terrible, you can tell me, tell us. Just...take your time."

"There's no need," she coolly uttered.

And then sprung into action so quickly no one had any time to react or prevent what was to happen.

In a whipping blur, Jess swiped an extra pen from Lockheed's coat pocket and snap-arced it directly into Ellison's neck. Immediately after, he staggered away, bringing his hands up to the new gushing wound.

Lockheed and price instantly rushed to get their hands on Jess's arms to restrain. But once they had her, she took them both down in a matter of seconds: Lockheed with a back-kick to his knee which crumpled him miserably to the floor; Price with a swing-around thrusting jab to his eyes, then throat—he, too, buckled but only to his knees.

"Security!!!" Lockheed boomed through his sharpened agony.

Jess jammed him in the face with her hard-booted foot. The man was severely dazed and called out no more.

She bolted toward the door and hit the wall next to the door frame near the knob. Instantly she flattened right up against the wall in hopes of not being noticed too well by whoever stormed in.

A second later, two men did—security agents who plowed through, swinging the door wide open, guns raised. They saw the scene and witnessed Jessie behind them. But they were a split-second too late and she was already in motion to take them down.

The one nearest to Jess received a maddening slam of her fist into his ear. Immediately, he lost equilibrium, groaning horridly from the pain.

The other tried to swing an aim at Jess to take her down—but she snap-swiped the legs of the agent next to her, bringing his balance out from under him. Thus she was able to forcefully push him into the gun aiming agent, sending both of them careening backwards and onto the floor. The agent's aim was ruined and the shot went wild into the ceiling. A light fixture burst and sparked as a result. Before this even happened, however, Jess was already gone from the room.

The elevator doors split apart to expose Jess to the security agents that had tranquilizer guns poised on her. They would have fired on her immediately were it not for the fact that she was primarily shielded by a hostage. One that she held quite close and whose life was being held in the balance by a pen. It was clutched firmly by Jess and pressed forcefully into the throat skin of the hostage, just over the jugular.

The hostage was Pahti.

"Jess, what are you doing?" said an agent very curtly. "Put down the pen and release him."

She did not comply. Instead she barked back, "If _you_ do not put your weapons down and kick them away, I'm going to bleed him dry. That's a firm promise."

The head agent hesitated for a second, then realized he had no choice but to follow her orders. "Okay," he relented as he repositioned his hold on the tranquilizer gun so that firing it would be impossible. The other agents mimicked his movements. They lowered their guns to the floor and kicked them far away.

"Now," Jess instructed coldly, "he and I are walking out of here. You will not follow. If you do, if I catch sight of anyone else from Ell-Bau, I will open him up, understand?"

"Yes," replied the lead agent immediately.

"Good. Now on the floor, all of you."

They obeyed.

And now Jess coerced Pahti forth and out of the elevator.

And as they slowly made their way toward the front doors, Pahti uttered to Jess, "I know this not you. That they're controlling you somehow—"

"Just be quiet, Pahti," Jess authoritatively commanded him. "Obey my instructions to the letter and you will live through this."

He did so for the time being, and eventually they were out of the building and on the sidewalk. But just before they had exited to the openness of the day, Jess whip-changed the target of her pen from Pahti's throat to the small of his back, right on his spine. Once again, to be less attention grabbing to the people on the street.

They made their way to the parking structure, to Pahti's car. They both entered through the passenger side, and Jess told him to drive. Where, he asked and she told him the directions back to the Pear-Paul HQ. With great reluctance and dejection, he drove her there.

Once Jess and Pahti arrived and pulled up in front of Pear-Paul, she ordered him to put it in park.

"Okay," she began, facing him, "Once I exit the car, you're free to go. But do not follow me in or try to stop me, because you know you will lose."

"Yes, I know," Pahti managed as tears were threatening to fall from his eyelids. _"Please_ don't go in there. For your family's sake, for our _friendship,_ please don't go."

"Our friendship is not a priority right now. Only what I have been instructed to carry out. It is the only thing that matters now."

Now he was fully crying. "This is completely _insane."_

"Nonetheless," she simply stated without remorse or regret. "Don't follow."

And she got out. He watched her in shock and disbelief as she casually walked into the lobby of Pearson and Paul.

Into hell's den.

"Mr. Jordan," the assistant's voice rang through the office intercom, "Jessica has returned and is waiting to enter your office."

"Perfect," Stanford responded to the device as he finished reading a report in his office. He closed the report brief up and said, "Send her in."

Two seconds later, Jess entered and approached him.

"Jessica, tell me good news," he enthusiastically requested.

"Essentially, it is done," she reported flatly, "With Ellison at least. Bauer was not in the room with us."

"Oh, we'll get him eventually, I'm not worried. Main thing is you got your feet wet. So tell me how it went down, if you please."

She stood before him and neutrally explained, "I used a ballpoint pen to jam it into his jugular. He was bleeding quite heavily, though if they got to him in time, there's a slight possibility he could pull through."

"Well, we'll have to watch and wait for any formal announcements on the news. But I must say, I am pleased nonetheless. Are you ready for your next outing?"

"Yes. Where would you like me to go?"

"Where _wouldn't_ I like you to go?" he said with a bit of vigor. "But I think we'll have you hop off to New York first to see if you can't infiltrate the Ell-Bau offices there. The man in charge is named Frederick Tanner. A bit of a mountain of a man, but I think you'll be able to take him. Use the pen trick again if you feel it's the best method."

"What's my cover for infiltration? It seems a safe bet that Bauer will put the word out on me."

"Safe to assume, yes. That is why we have established an ironclad cover for you. you will be posing as a magazine reporter for _Biz_ magazine. We've already strong-armed them into corroborating your employment there should you be background checked by Ell-Bau. You will have an appropriate facial disguise in addition to physical padding to hide your true form. You will even have a number of interview questions made out for you to legitimize the piece."

"You mean conduct the full interview, then kill him?"

"If you feel it's warranted. If not, do it during, anytime when he is off guard and not expecting you to strike."

"Understood."

"Perfect. A two o'clock flight is waiting for you in our private jet. Please see my assistant for instructions on meeting your contact in New York."

"I will do so."

"Excellent. Thank you, Jessica. I will see you in a month's time."

"See you then," she calmly agreed, then left the office.

Stanford could not help but beam with satisfaction as he watched her go.

Chapter 14

It was a foregone conclusion that their worst fears were realized.

Pahti watched all of them and felt their hellish shock and dismay over the hideous turn of events. Watched as Erin, Curt, Dean, Mill, Bauer, Al, Sophie, and his own parents try to come to grips with Jess' jarring betrayal. All of them had wrenched faces of tears and saddening whimpers or hollers.

He watched as some of them were enraged as well—especially Curt and Erin.

They were all standing around the medical bed of Tobin Ellison as he was lying unconscious and slack-jawed. His neck was bandaged heavily. An IV snaked out of the fold of his right arm and led up to a hooked bag of O Positive blood. A respirator was strapped to his face. He looked pale and close to death.

Bauer flatly reported, "The doctors say the artery was hit; he lost a great deal of blood. He's now in a coma; they can't say how long he'll be under."

"How could this have happened?" Erin raged shakingly, "How could she _do_ this? Didn't your people protect her mind from being turned to their will—?"

"They did, yes. They barriered her mind against any suggestions being implanted deep in her subconscious."

"Well then _why?"_

"Because, from what Dina has informed me, the suggestion—the implant must've already existed."

"What?"

"They...they had already conditioned her, from when she was a small child...from when Pear-Paul first had her."

"...Oh dear God..." A hand travelled up to her lips in abject horror of realization.

"All they needed to do was give her the proper activation word or phrase. And she would follow along with whatever they asked her to do."

Erin turned about, caught in a mental maelstrom. And she shrieked shiveringly at the top of her lungs, then folded to the floor. Curt bent down to brace her from crumpling fully.

Bauer looked upon her and uttered repentantly, "I'm sorry, Erin...we didn't count on this happening."

He unequivocally expected Erin to curse him with every derogatory and damning word in existence; to launch off the floor and lunge for him with the intent to strangle, squeeze, kill.

Miraculously, however, she remained in Curt's embrace, huddled low and sobbing. And instead of retching out choice and biting expletives, she merely offered, "I know...I know...I know you love her as I do."

Confidently and immediately, Bauer responded, "That's true...we all do. And we're going to get her back. And undo what's been done to her. I swear to you on that."

Erin nodded quickly in the midst of her soaked and hysterical crying. "I know..."

And then it happened: everyone in the room who was conscious converged on Curt and Erin, and lowered themselves to show any kind of comfort they could give. It became a giant huddle of solace and solidarity.

Where hate could not get through.

Chapter 15

Two hours earlier, Jess had arrived in New York City, New York and was now setting herself up in a hotel room.

Her contact, as per the instructions she received, would be making his appearance quite soon—within the next few minutes. He was a marketing wiz that had been with Pear-Paul for the last twenty-two years, but could easily act as an attaché for their assassins, if need be.

Even one he inherently despised.

There was a knock at the door. She asked who it was and a man responded.

"I'm from Pear-Paul."

She walked over and opened the door to reveal a man in business attire and short, graying curly hair.

Phillip Jenner.

"Hello, Jessica."

"Hello, Mr. Jenner."

He entered and spoke on. "I briefly worked with your mother once. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't," she replied as she shut the door and faced after him.

"I found her to be most, uh, _un_ cooperative, let's put it that way." He turned and eyed her back. "But we won't have any of that kind of trouble with you, will we?"

"No."

"...Good. Let's get down to it."

He opened the case that he brought with him and laid the contents out on the bed. It was everything that Jess would need to alter her identity for the assignment: a bobbed and red wig, a prosthetic nose, blending make-up, and two bosom-augmenting pads.

Phillip elaborated, "These are to change your appearance, of course. The biggest challenge will be the nose appliance. Has to look natural; we'll work on it.

"Also, your cover at the magazine has been meticulously constructed in its fabrication. In point of fact, your false identity has already written several articles for _Biz_ in the last six months. So if anyone decides to back check you—"

"I'll look legitimate."

"Exactly. So, who are you?"

"I'm Paisley Garner, a fledgling, career-hungry journalist working for _Biz_ magazine. I have been for the past eight months. Before that I was a graduate of Bartlett University and intern at KBNC local news station."

"Right, both schools and news station have been..." He guffawed, "...persuaded to fabricate your attendance at each. You even have a degree on file. And both will state that you are an affable and dedicated individual.

"What time's your interview?"

"9:00 tomorrow morning."

"Correct. Now can you be convincing, Jess? Can you pull this off without a hitch?"

"I can do whatever you need me to do?"

"I hope you're right, girl. Quite frankly, I always had my reservations about this whole venture of Stanford's. I mean, years and thousands spent on this scheme—with, in my humble opinion, little chance of guaranteed success... _But,_ that's just me, this is Stanford's gig and Carnegie, the big of the bigs at Pear-Paul, is just gaga for Stan's schemes. Thinks he's the cat's whiskers, the innovator, risk taker, and all that crap..."

Jess simply stared at him.

He continued on. "Anyway...I've been instructed to handle you for this assignment, so I'm handling you, despite the repellent nature of your presence..." He blinked repeatedly for a brief moment, trying to keep his feelings bottled up. "...Anyway, whatever, get some rest, you wake up at six tomorrow morning; breakfast and showered, ready for the costume."

He headed for the door, inwardly glad to be leaving.

As he passed her, she responded, "I will be ready."

At the door and his hand on the knob, he turned and faced her. "They've got you wired quite well, haven't they?"

"What do you mean?"

"You'll really do anything for us, won't you? regardless of how abhorrent it might be to your nature as one of the _'good'_ chosen."

"Yes."

He looked off and uttered, "Hmph..." Then he refocused on her, "...Well, let me tell you something right now, errand girl, if you're playing us somehow and this blows up in our faces—I promise you, no matter how long it takes to get you, I will. And I'll bury you ten times over, you understand?"

"Yes. I will not disappoint."

He blinked more as he looked away again, held in a locked, frozen state of contemplation for a brief moment.

Then he turned back and left, closing the door behind him with a touch of a slam.

Chapter 16

"All right, people, what have we got?" Bauer put to the tech team as they were gathered in the conference room, seated around the table.

Carrie announced, "Good news first, Justin has come up with an idea that we all like—though we're concerned about the time tables of the proposal."

"What does it entail?"

"It's simply this, sir: we create our own drones—remote tech fliers that can home in on the wasps and take 'em out."

Bauer thought on it for a moment. "...That's not bad. But you're worried about mass producing them, correct?"

"Yes, sir. How soon do we need to eliminate these things? I think we could have a prototype drone put together within a week or so, but fifty or a hundred might take a month, maybe longer."

"I see...well, go to work on the prototype, test it out, say, on something with a heat signature, then bring it to me. Maybe I can then farm it out for mass production.

"Now, bad news?"

"Bad news: we still haven't isolated the homing or transceiver signal for the wasps. We'll keep on it, shouldn't take forever."

"Good, okay. Anything else?"

"Just a question, sir: how is Ellison doing? None of us can believe what has happened."

Bauer drew in a bracing breath, let it out audibly. "...He's holding on, still in a coma, unfortunately."

Carson disbelievingly asked, "How could this girl do this to him? Wasn't she one of us?"

"She is—and that was the whole point all along. To use her to get to us."

"Was she brainwashed or something?"

"Something. Hypnosis would be a better explanation. Deep suggestion far down into her subconscious."

"Wicked," Justin remarked in horror.

Another breath from Bauer. "Very much so."

"Where's the girl now?" Carrie cut back in.

"Unknown. Our lookout teams had been called back in after she had been brought back to us."

Silence invaded the room for an awkward, depressive moment.

Then Bauer spoke up again, "Well, keep on with the signal and I'll check back in a week." And he stood to exit.

"Yes, sir," said Carrie without the greatest of enthusiasm.

Chapter 17

"Welcome, Miss Garner. Please have a seat right here," invited Frederick Tanner as he ushered the fully disguised Jess into his office. She took the seat he suggested, just in front of his desk, while he rounded it and took his own chair. They faced each other.

Tanner started, "Your associates at _Biz_ have good things to say about you, and I've actually read some of your pieces—very insightful. But I'm wondering if any of them at the magazine are aware of who you really are."

Instantly, a warm tightness formed in Jess' chest—though outwardly she was calm. Her brow furled slightly, however, as she inquired, "Pardon?"

"You know, your...specialness, I naturally sensed it being this close to you."

Within her mind, Jess breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, she realized, he's referring to the sense identifying of our chosen. He has no idea who I really am. _"Oh_ —ah, no, 'fraid not."

"Oh, that's too bad," he concluded, "It's always nice to have someone you work with that you can truly relate to. That's why I pretty much love working here. I don't feel like I'm herding people here, I feel like I'm running with them."

"Oh, that's an interesting quote, can I use that?"

"Certainly. I hope I can give several throughout the interview." He laughed a touch, she smiled.

"So how long have you been VP for the N.Y.C. branch of Ellison and Bauer?"

"Four years now," He responded and nodded.

"And tell me, what was your very first real job growing up?"

He sat back and looked skyward for a brief period as he said, "Oh jeeze, let's go back a ways...ooohh, that would have to be the library gig on 13th and Traveler Street. I was a check-in check-out guy. Very boring stuff, nothing ever as interesting as the sort of thing I'm involved in now.

"You know, it's a funny thing, they always say that your youth is the _'your time_ to shine' part of life—but at fifty-one, I honestly feel that it's _right now_ for me."

"Wow, terrific. So then do you subscribe to the old adage that if you are doing what you love, you never feel like you're running down, or winding down in life?"

"Absolutely. Look, when I was in business school, I was petrified, because I wasn't sure if the corporate life was going to be for me. I mean, if someone had told me back then that I was going to head up a major division—"

"Excuse me, I'm so sorry, this is embarrassing a bit for me to mention, but—there's a-a speck of lint in your hair, _do you mind_ if I come around and—"

"Oh, well, maybe I can get it..." he offered as he patted his hair, swatted at it. "How 'bout...now? No?"

"Ehh, it's still there, can I just—?"

"Oh sure, sure."

So she rose and rounded the desk to approach him briskly—as if she couldn't wait to erase the visual embarrassment.

The pen was in her hand.

She got to his side and actually did a gentle jerking swipe of his hair. "Got it."

And then snappingly stabbed the pen into his throat's life-giving jugular vein.

He gasped in shock, his arms shimmied lamely out in front of him for a split second before rushing to his throat to clasp their hands on his deepened and gushing wound.

But she didn't stop there. She didn't have to this time. There was no one to run in and hit an alarm or call for help. Now she could make sure the job was complete.

While he was barely dealing with the shock and trauma of his wound, she quickly moved to the back of Tanner, put a forceful hand to his forehead, yanked it back, and dove the sharp pen's inkpoint end quite viciously and deeply into his left eye.

He gurgled a horrid and weak-sounding gasp of stunted air from his mouth as she performed the second injury. He shook and convulsed with helpless agony.

A moment later, however, the jerking and flailing of Tanner's body died down. And he had become limp, lifeless, inanimate.

Deceased.

She still had time to make absolute sure with him, however. She checked the pulse in his wrist. Nothing, not even a faint throb.

So she had done it, she told her inner self. Performed her first confirmed kill.

And she had kept careful not to get any of the massive rivers of blood on her skin or clothing. Though she would have to be mindful of the puddles that had now pooled themselves on either end of the floor near Tanner's seated corpse.

She did so, collected her notepad, and casually walked out of the office, closing the door behind.

When she neared Tanner's assistant's desk, the dutiful and oblivious boy seated behind it looked up and brightly asked, "Did you get everything you needed?"

"Yes, I did," she responded, "It was my best interview yet."

"Terrific, well, take care now."

"You too!"

"All right." He noticed that she was passing the elevator and heading for the stairs. "You're not taking the elevator?"

"Gotta get my exercise."

"Ugh," he began out of his mouth that was attached to his rotund and workout-shy form, "I hate you now."

She laughed and left away down the steps to the lobby.

Stanford was in his office yet again, typing on his laptop computer when a knock at the door distracted him.

"Yes?"

The door opened and his assistant popped in to stand at the doorway. "Sir, thought you'd wanna know. She did it. Tanner is dead."

"Thank you."

The assistant nodded then left, closing the door.

Stanford went back to his typing. But he couldn't help twitching a recurrent smile.

Chapter 18

Bauer was walking. Walking and thinking. He traipsed the hallways of the eighth floor heading toward the conference room.

And in his mind, a hailstorm of troubles swirled and knocked around endlessly. His partner and good friend, Ellison was still in a coma after a week, Jessica was still MIA, one of their own from the N.Y.C. branch had been murdered—most likely by Jess, herself—and he, Bauer, still had a company to run and keep afloat.

And he still needed to solve the problem of the wasps.

He hoped and prayed that Carrie and her team had made some headway, at least in terms of a workable drone prototype.

The door of the conference room was coming up on the right—time to focus, collect himself, and see what could come of the meet.

He entered the conference room to find Carrie and the crew huddled over what appeared to be a crude, barebones version of a flyable drone. A few of them were still tinkering with certain wires and sections of the elongated device. Two circular and metal-framed propulsion propellers winged the skeletal thing.

"This is it?" Bauer inquired of the team.

Carrie replied, standing to face him as she did, "The basic prototype, yes. Give us a sec, and we'll do a demo for you."

"All right."

Bauer took a seat at the conference table and further observed the workings and tinkering. A half a minute later and they were done, and Carson grabbed a remote control device that also seemed to be pieced together and skinless. They all stood and backed away from the drone.

"Okay, here we go," Carson announced, "Fingers crossed, folks..." He flipped a switch on the remote control.

Suddenly, a whirring noise revved up as the propulsion propellers became blurs of motion. Enough so, that now the drone was rising to a hover approximately three feet off the floor.

"Okay," Carson said again, "Now Justin with the lighter, say, over on the other side of the table..."

Justin walked briskly over to the opposite end of the conference table and pulled out a cigarette lighter to flick on the flame. A tiny spearhead of constant fire shot upward as he did.

And immediately, the drone lifted higher, the whirring noise amplifying to a powerful buzz. Once it reached eight feet into the air, the circular and blurred propellers shifted at an angle, and the drone pushed forth. It soared above and across the table and over to Justin's location. Bauer tracked its movements as it flew over of his head and past.

It stopped and merely hovered just short of Justin and the open flame, and appeared to be staring at the heat source. Justin released his thumb from the lighter's igniter and the flame plummeted out of sight.

The drone then shifted its propellers once again allowing the drone to do a midair u-turn and hum a course back over to its original lift-off spot—where it lowered its hovering to three feet once more. The whirring decreased in power.

Carrie elaborated to Bauer, "As you just witnessed, sir, the drone is drawn to the extreme heat source of the lighter's flame. This, of course, was just for demo purposes. We could easily reprogram it to track the proper degree heat signature of the common wasp. Provided that the WI's _have_ the same body temperature as your normal wasp.

Bauer admitted, "Well, I must say, I'm impressed for a week's worth of work."

"Thank you, sir. Give us a few more days and we'll have something a bit more streamlined and visually presentable. We'll also be testing out weaponry on it."

"Good deal. I've contracted our subsidiary, _Transistor Inc._ for a subcontract to mass produce. So let's try and have all the specs organized at that time."

"Will do."

"Any luck with the signal?"

"None—and that's what's troubling. We know there have been two attacks around the world in the last four days. One here in the states and one in London. We've coordinated with all of our affiliates and none of them have been able to identify any signals on any frequency. None that could pinpoint their signatures of flight paths or kill instructions.

"But Justin has a theory about that, which seems to make sense. He thinks that the wasps aren't operating on any tech-initiated frequency. That they're operating on their own organic radar."

"Right," Justin added, "like they keep one of their wasps in a home base location, feed it the instructions necessary to get the job done, and then the thing just sends it out through its own innate wavelength to all its buddies 'out in the field' as they say."

Bauer pondered. "That _would_ explain things quite nicely. Now what to do about it, how do we test your hypothesis?"

Carrie answered, "We start studying up on wasps in general; find out if there are conclusive studies on their physiology and the specific nature of how they communicate with each other, and go from there."

"Sounds good, people. Let's see what we can come up with. Meet you back here in three days."

"Will do. Sir? Any change in Mr. Ellison?"

"I wish I could say there was an improvement in his condition. But he's still in a coma. If there's a change, I will let you know for sure."

"Thanks, sir...We also heard about one of our own being taken d—"

"Fred Tanner out of N.Y.C."

"Right, sir...Was it that girl that did it, sir?"

"Her name is Jessica."

"Was it Jessica, sir?"

"...Most likely," he clipped out. "The people there at that outfit identified her as one of us, but the physical appearance was different. She was likely in disguise...I've put out the word to all of our affiliates to suspend all interviews or tours of owned facilities."

Carson asked, "Would you like us to put together some physical variants of Jessica?"

"Thanks, but no. Keep with the wasps. I have another individual working on possible looks that she could use to fool us again. Look, people, I know that this is all quite disturbing; but let's stay focused on the tasks at hand, and very soon we'll accomplish our goal."

"Count on us, sir," Carrie assured.

And the conference broke.

Chapter 19

The restaurant was posh to say the least, and Stanford knew it had to be if he was to have a lunch meeting with the absolute top man himself—Nelson Carnegie. Normally, a reservation months in advance would be required to eat at _The Tropic._ But Stanford possessed the proper clout and connections to receive a table whenever he so desired.

And now he was seated at a table for two with the lunch crowd surrounding him, the waiters and bus boys bustling about. The chair opposite him was still empty; Carnegie had taken a flight in from D.C. and was due to arrive any minute now.

While Stanford waited, he mulled over every facet of what he and Carnegie would discuss: from Carnegie's choice of a new security head for the mid-west branch to Jessica's exploits to the wasp situation. And those who, thus far, have escaped punishment for it. On this last point, Stanford felt a great twinge of trepidation and concern. It _was_ under his watch that Grishenko's lackeys escaped. _And_ with, what it seems, a good deal of info on the wasps' and Jessica's operations. Would Stanford relay _that_ part of the debacle to Carnegie? Chances were that he would not. That might send Carnegie over the edge, might shorten the rope that Stanford so generously hung on. Yet if he didn't divulge everything, he ran the risk of having his entire future at Pear-Paul put into serious jeopardy. Should Grishenko's pawns sabotage the wasps somehow based on the data they pilfered, should they use the knowledge of Jess' kill pattern and timetables to do so—should Carnegie find out about these things on his own....

Well, Stanford didn't want to contemplate the full implications of that outcome.

Carnegie was coming toward him.

Stanford stood and shook Carnegie's hand. They said their hellos and sat back down. Small talk ensued until the waiter came and took their appetizer and main course orders. As they waited for the food to arrive, they drank a bit of their ordered alcohol concoctions and got to the real conversations.

"So, Stanford," Carnegie began hardily, "Get me up to speed, how are things at the Midwest branch?"

"Things are good, things are great, in fact," Stanford half-lied. "Quarterlies are up because of our hands-on approach with our subsidiaries, we've proven to be market-proof yet again—"

"Oh, of course you have—which I am always pleased about, naturally. But how are we with the weakening of Ellison and Bauer?"

"Progressing. I'm not sure if you've been told, but Ellison himself is in—"

"A coma, yes, I caught that bit on the news—which is encouraging to say the least. And has the possibility of derailing their corporate resolve and stability...Yet—I don't see how catatonia of one of its founders spells the demise of a worldwide conglomerate of those self-righteous heretics. But I think you know that I keep the big picture in mind, and it is still quite early in the game. So. Please continue."

"Of course. I assume you've no doubt heard of the success in New York—the girl performed her duties without a hitch and escape without being tracked. I'm confident that she is under our full control and will use her skills to take down every target we have laid out for her. She will help us bring Ell-Bau to its knees, of that I can guarantee."

"I'm sure that you can—and I have, of course, every reason to believe you. You're WI's have come through for us more times than I can count over the years. You've always been a good investment, Stanford. But let's look at this from a purely objective perspective for a moment. This girl that you've programmed, this repellent of our kind that you've rewired—she's not one of your genetic lab creations, Stanford. She wasn't...spliced at some molecular whatever to inherently serve our corporate needs. If there is the slightest possibility that—oh, I don't know, say she gets hit on the head and regresses to her normal mental state—then the whole operation that _you've_ spent years planning could put us in serious corporate jeopardy, yes?

"So what I propose is this: find someone that she cares about and hold them hostage—be it a family member, a close friend, something along those lines. Just as an ironclad insurance policy that, should she relapse, she would then continue to act on our behalf, yes?"

"That may be a difficult proposition at this point, sir. Ell-Bau is protecting her closest friends and family members, offering them asylum in their own HQ—"

"Then get creative, boy.

"Now, let's get back to the WI's for a moment. I hear that we had a hitch with them a few months back. A few of them were actually taken down if I'm not mistaken."

A tension couldn't help but form on Stanford's face as he responded, "That is correct. Initially we had apprehended the party responsible, but unfortunately they were more resourceful than we anticipated—and they escaped our custody."

"Any lead as to their whereabouts?" The vigor was gone from Carnegie's voice; now it was only flat, officious.

"They've gone dark. Grishenko picked his people well, it appears. But we're researching the two suspects extensively. We'll ferret them out soon."

"Oh, I'm sure. I know you, Stanford, and I _know_ what your winged killers mean to you."

Stanford cracked a bit of a smile, "You have me there, sir."

" _So..._ let us say at this point and time, since I am a 'big picture' type of man, that we are in...a slight holding pattern, as it were. But we can't stay in this hold for long, my boy, we have to put the wheels in the air and soon. We must ascend, Stanford— _you_ must ascend if you're to reach my position one day. Do it, or someone else will, yes?"

Stanford's eyes searched around in quick, sobering contemplation before he nodded and said, "...Yes."

"Very good. Now, I also hear you're without a head of security."

"Thanks to Grishenko."

"Well I have someone in mind. She's from our Canadian sector, but recently she has been handling things for Carrillo down in Brazil. But now that he has become more stabilized in his region, I think our girl can do more good here for you. Name's Jean Ferrell, and were it not for her expertise and ingenuity in border protection, our puppet boy down south would still be struggling to secure his drug territories. She's your man so to speak."

"I look forward to meeting her," Stanford said in a formal tone.

"She'll be jetting in on Tuesday and will report for duty the next morning."

"Terrific."

"And with her aboard your operation, perhaps security incidents like the one you had with your mainframe won't be repeated, hm?"

_So the old bastard already knew,_ Stanford mused morosely. Yet he kept a solid straight face, only his chest felt the brunt of his tightened anxiety spike. So much for having to decide whether to conceal the information leak or not....

"Yes, sir," Stanford replied almost apologetically.

"Good," Carnegie said in finality. Then looked about in agitation as he uttered, "Now where the hell are those appetizers?"

Chapter 20

Bauer received a knock at the door. He said come in to the knocker and she did. It was Erin, she stood in the doorway.

"May I talk to you for a second?" Erin implored. Her eyes were tight, manic almost.

_Here it comes,_ he thought....

"Sure," Bauer said, "Have a seat."

But she only came forth a few feet and remained standing. "I'd liked to know why we haven't been getting any TV or internet reception."

"We have certain valid reasons for restricting those things at this point and time. I would ask you to please bare with us, it's for your own sanity."

"Screw my sanity, I need to know what's happening with my daughter. Has she done something you don't want us to know about?"

"What would it help if you all knew? How does it not increase your agony in this situation by following the events that have taken place—?"

"Because she's my daughter, and I have a right to know! You people kept me in the dark for almost twenty years about my daughter's situation, and now you're doing it again!"

Bauer put up a quick hand as he clipped, "Look, all right, you're right...you're right..." He took his open laptop that was on his desk and facing him and turned it around so that the screen's active contents were now visible to Erin. "Read." He turned away from gazing at her and buried his lips in a curled hand.

She hesitated for a second then came forth again to sit in the chair in front of Bauer's desk. She read the news article that was featured on the laptop's monitor.

It was all about Frederick Tanner's untimely and brutal death.

She read every word of the article with an opened mouth and unblinking eyes. When she finished, she buttoned up her mouth, sat back, and batted her eyes in disbelief. "She did this...didn't she."

"...Everything points to it. Her appearance was altered a great deal...but we're fairly positive it was her."

"...So like her mother, she is used to kill...And it's nothing personal to them, is it...just business..."

"No, nothing personal...as routine to them as..." He pushed his lips together while shaking his head slightly. "...signing a contract or...having drinks with an investor...."

"...Are you any closer to-to finding her?" she asked with fluttering hope.

"I'm afraid not at the moment; Pear-Paul is keeping her buried deep. We're trying to theorize her strike patterns, who she might go after next. We're also attempting to alert everyone of the chosen who share our ilk to be on the lookout for her. But as you might imagine, that's taking a bit of time. There are not more than a few million of us worldwide, but that's still quite a number to deal with, and not all of us work for this company."

Erin expelled a deepened breath of frustration and dejection. Then she said, "I know that you're doing what you can. Of course, you gave me your word."

"Well you know by now what that means to us."

"Oh, I know it," she deadpanned as she looked off.

"So now that you know of Jess' dealings, would you like me to come with you to tell the others? Or do you want to be on your own with it? I will accept either way."

"I'm her mother...I'll be the one to explain to everybody."

"...I don't remember if I ever told you this but I've always thought you were one of the toughest and bravest individuals I've ever known."

"Really? Well I'll be straight with you, right now I don't feel so brave or tough. Right now I feel utterly helpless and scared out of my mind."

"Hm, as do most of us, both chosen or otherwise...So much of the horror out there runs rampant and unchecked in this world. I think if we knew of it all, we'd likely tear ourselves apart with confusion and sorrow...But we keep on, don't we—because of what we mean to each other, or...because we're just built to go on."

"I suppose that's true, isn't it." And she stared off.

"Which brings me to another reason why we didn't want you all to have outside sources. We didn't want the daily news of the world further dampening your spirits."

"Believe it or not, though, focusing on other troubles out there might provide us with a halfway decent distraction. I know that 'misery loves company' is a sad thing to admit but..."

"Very well, then. You'll get your TV and internet back. You're right—even though we had the best of intentions, it was wrong to shut you all out. Particularly you."

"Thanks." She gave him a weak smile.

Chapter 21

The set plan for Jess' kill pattern and sequence had to be changed. That was obvious at this point now that it was possible for Grishenko's associates to possibly sell the info to Ell-Bau.

So Stanford had drawn up a new strategy of ordered timetable and location hopping for his little "Hornet" operative. Whereas Jess was scheduled to hit Delaware next, Stanford rerouted her to North Carolina.

To further shake things up, Jess was now ordered by to alter her kill methods as well. Instead of seeking out the targets at their workplace, Jess would strike them at home.

This would entail one of two options. One was, if the target lived alone, then Jess would cleverly break in and wait. If it was an apartment complex, she would work her hypnosis on the manager to allow her free access into the mark's living space, hide and wait for the target's return, then take them out. A second option entailed hypnotizing the target's family members—should the target live with others in a suburban dwelling. She could then convince them to allow her into the house. And, again, wait for the right person to arrive and kill them.

Her next assignment was now realigned to Margret "Maggie" Beddinger, a vice president of Ell-Bau's North Carolina branch. Maggie had a family and a vast dwelling to house them in. With four kids and a husband who worked out of the home, she needed the space.

There was certainly plenty of closet room. Particularly within Maggie and her husband's master bedroom.

Jess drove in a Pear-Paul company car from N.Y.C. to N.C. Once there she found the Beddington's home address provided by Pear-Paul. When she knocked on the door to the house, Maggie's son, Keenan, an 18-year-old hippy-ish type, opened up.

"Yeah?" he inquired without much vigor.

"Hi! Let's go!" Jess cheerfully pitched to the teen.

"What? Go where? Who are you?"

"I'm Nelly North, and I represent _Forward Travel Agency._ And our motto is 'Let's Go!' Simple and direct, right? I'm here to tell you that you and your family have been randomly selected for a special offer. It's our 'Let's Go!' program where you are put in the running for a free, all expenses paid vacation to Acapulco. All you and your family have to do is sign up for our travel brochure subscription, _aaaaaand—_ we're there."

On the last two words, Jess' eyes went taught and fully focused on Keenan's.

His own eyes went completely slack, dazed. He was hers to control now. And immediately, she went about doing so.

"Anyone else home, Keenan?" she calmly asked.

"No."

"Let me in, Keenan."

"Yes, all right."

He swung the door wider ajar to allow Jess full access to enter the house. He was wholly telling the truth with her, no one else was there but the two of them.

"Close the door, Keenan."

"Yes, okay." He did it.

"Show me your parent's master bedroom, Keenan."

"This way."

He led her there and she followed close behind. Once they arrived to the room, she instructed him to go back to what he was doing and completely forget that she was there, act natural as if nothing had taken place in the last few minutes. He dutifully complied and went away from her sight.

Then she simply slipped into the closet, closed the sliding door, and waited.

Maggie was scheduled to be home in two hours.

Chapter 22

Jean Ferrell's flight arrived on schedule into town, and she, herself, arrived right on schedule the next morning to report to Stanford for duty. Upon looking at her, Stanford found her face to have a plain look though with a striking undercurrent of solidity, decisiveness. Her physique looked carved, firm, lithely strong. The epitome of a human killing instrument.

"Welcome aboard, Miss Ferrell," Stanford formally greeted his new employee.

"Thank you, sir," she accepted.

"I've been reading up on your reports, your recent exploits. Mr. Carrillo apparently managed to allot you a presidential medal of valor for your efforts in South America."

"That's true, sir."

"Well I'll be blunt with you, Miss Ferrell, we don't give out medals here at my branch. Your absolute best is merely expected here, is that fully understood?"

Crisply, she responded, "Perfectly, sir, you'll have it. That is a guarantee."

"Good. I want you heading up the search for the two individuals who escaped our custody. The background research team is already at work on this assignment. Join them and mow through every piece of information they have discovered so far. Perform cross patterns that may better tell us where they are and how to find them. Clear?"

"Clear, sir."

"Good. Report to them now. Dismissed."

Chapter 23

Jess was still in the closet of the master bedroom when Maggie Beddington walked through the door of the house. The 55-year-old woman with bobbed hair called out, "Hello!" to anyone who would respond. Two hellos came back: Keenan's and his younger sister, Molly's. Molly had shown up a half hour earlier; and now both siblings were watching TV in the back family room. The other two were away at college—the twin boys, Eli and Alec. Terrance Beddington, Maggie's betrothed for the last thirty-four years, had been out and about taking care of family errands most of the day but was expected home soon.

Jess could hear the voices of Maggie and her children conversing, performing small talk about the goings on of people they knew, both familial and acquaintances, friends. This went on for a good fifteen minutes before it subsided and Jess heard footsteps plodding toward the room. She must be coming in to change her clothes, thought Jess in her silent crouch within the closet. She surmised correctly, and Maggie entered the room. Her chosen husband must have arrived home as well, for the older woman did not pause in her actions or show any signs of caution in detecting Jess. Maggie kicked off her shoes then picked them up with one hand and walked over to the closet.

She slid the door open to replace the shoes...

And THWAP!—Jess sprung a vicious high kick straight into Maggie's chin and throat. The elderly woman "Hicked!" involuntarily upon the kick's impact and she immediately careened backwards, falling on her kingsized bed. She gasped and choked, unable to scream for help.

Maggie attempted to rebound out of her lying position, to escape out of the room somehow. But Jess was already on her, snakingly wrapping her vice-like arm around the helpless woman's neck. Maggie gagged and croaked terribly, flailing all about under the iron grip of Jess' headlock upon her.

Fast footsteps pounded their way to the bedroom.

Terrance burst into the room and launched himself at Jess.

But she was fully ready for him. Keeping the stranglehold on Maggie, Jess vaulted into the air and shot both of her powerful legs directly into Terrance's face. The resulting deep crack of the hit whiplashed his entire body, sending him backward to violently crash into the dresser. The second impact was enough to shamble him into unconsciousness; he fell listlessly to a heap on the carpet.

Jess continued to squeeze the life out of Maggie. Within seconds, the job would be complete.

Two more pairs of rushing footsteps came down the hall, along with voices screaming for their parents.

Both Keenan and Molly appeared at the doorway and were shocked by what they witnessed: their father sprawled unconscious before them, and their mother's life being slowly taken in the clutches of a madwoman.

"MOTHERRRRR!" 16-year-old Molly shrieked.

Keenan raged, "Get off my mom!!!"

Jess immediately assessed what to do. She slammed Maggie horridly in the ear, causing the older women to wince hard. The resulting loss of equilibrium brought her down to her knees.

Then Jess instantly prepared herself for the siblings' rushing physical onslaught.

They came at the killer and attempted to tackle her back and to the ground, possibly pin her and knock her cold.

But Jess dispatched both of them with ease, releasing a damaging kick to Molly's abdomen, sending her buckling to the floor, while strategically ducking out of Keenan's tackling attempt. As he missed her, she did an arc move to slam a fist into the back of his neck. He hollered a miseried groan. While he dealt with this, she took her foot and swiped his legs out from under him. He crashed to the flooring, hitting his forehead on the nearby wall on the way down. Then Jess swung about once more to jam another vicious kick to Molly—this time, maddeningly in the face. The forceful blow took Molly out of her consciousness and down to the floor.

Keenan was attempting to recover, pushing himself up to his hands and knees, and hoping for further raising. But Jess whirled on him and rammed a foot into his gut. He belched a vocal hiccup of pain and fell over to a curled up mess.

"Stop," came a rasped, hoarse, whispery voice from the peripheral of Jess. She whipped a turn to see that Maggie was straining to talk to her.

"Please...stop," croaked the throat-damaged elder woman again. "No more on them...just hurt me...Jessica..."

Jess stared at Maggie's lowered form for an inanimate few seconds. Then simply replied, "Okay."

And proceeded calmly toward Maggie.

Minutes later Jess' second confirmed kill was completed.

Chapter 24

"That's it! I can't take this anymore!" Pahti barked to everyone in the room. "I'm leaving! You can stay if you want, but I'm out of here!"

A few moments earlier, Erin had gathered everyone in the cafeteria of the HQ to inform them on what was taking place outside of the walls of Ell-Bau's corporate sanctuary. Most did not take it well.

Pahti had taken it quite a bit worse.

"Pahti!" his father ordered, "Get a hold of yourself! You can't leave now!"

"Why?!" Pahti belted back. "They got what they wanted, Jess is theirs! What do they care about us now?!"

Pahti's mother spoke up to support her husband's stance, "But you know why you want to leave, Pahti!"

"Oh, why do I want to leave?! Tell me, mother!"

"You want to go and find Jessica! Admit it!"

"Don't be absurd, mother! I wouldn't have a clue as to where to look!"

"But I _know_ you, Pahti, you would try to find her anyway! You would go on some crazy expedition across the world if necessary; expending all your savings for college to try and find her and bring her back! Don't deny it!"

"Well I _am_ an adult now, I can go where I please, if that's what I decide to do!"

His father approached him a few steps, his eyes cast intensely on his son. "Your mother is right, Pahti. We both know how much Jessica means to you. We know that you would travel to the ends of the earth to get her back. But you can't see that it would destroy you in the process. It would destroy everything you have fought to build all these years. You must see that it is true."

"Father," Pahti implored with tears lining his lids, "it already _is_ destroying me. I cannot stay."

And with that, Pahti began toward the door.

As he passed everyone and reached the frame of the exit, his mother called after him, "Pahti, I love you, son, _please..."_

Pahti turned and faced her, the tears lining his cheeks. "I love you, mother," He glanced at his dad, "father...But I _have_ to go."

"Pahti," Erin said, tears falling on her own face, "Please be careful, boy."

He blinked twice looking down for a second, then said back, "I will."

And he was gone from the room.

Chapter 25

The Massachusetts locale was peaceful, invoking a relaxing state of mind. Jess stared down at the lake's water from her railside position on the scenic crossbridge. The connecting structure was built quite close to the surface of the sea mass and allowed Jess a clear view of the life teaming within it. From various species of fish to sea turtles to active starfish, the water life was always moving.

Soon, however, Jess had to turn away from it to visually address a man coming her way across the bridge.

Phillip was scheduled to meet her here at 2 PM and he was there on time, on the dot.

"Jessica," he greeted neutrally, "well done again." He stood before her.

"Thank you, sir," she accepted in her own flat tone.

"This was a lucky case, of course, in that both Maggie and her husband were both chosen, so you had a bit of leeway in not being detected. But our next target's immediate family is not chosen that can mask the sense of you. You'll have to get creative on this one. Name's David Berkstrom, Head of Marketing for Baldwin Industries. They're a major subsidiary of Ell-Bau." He handed her a thumbdrive. "This has everything about him. Read it through carefully and come up with a kill strategy. This one will be your toughest yet...But you'll figure it out, won't you?"

"Yes, sir," she pocketed the thumbdrive in her jeans.

"'Yes, sir,' 'Yes, sir.' You're such a helpless drone, aren't you?" he commented with disdain. Her presence was still so repulsive to his senses. He couldn't get past it, despite the benefit she now represented to his beloved company. "I could curse you out and call you a worthless gnat, and you'd still just go on performing for us, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

He scoffed then said sneeringly, "You're completely pathetic. Carry out your assignment."

Coldly he turned and walked away.

Chapter 26

Pahti arrived at his house and immediately bolted upstairs to his room. He went to his closet and pulled out a suitcase with which he planned to pack to the hilt. Through it all, as he was opening drawers and yanking out what remained of his clothes, he thought about what his parents had said to him. They were likely right in their assessment of his intentions to scour the earth for Jess. But he didn't see any other option for his sanity. Thus he continued pulling and packing, filling the case to its maximum capacity.

When he was done, he double-checked his wallet to make sure he had his debt card. He knew it was there, of course, but simply felt it was prudent to make absolute sure. The mind plays tricks even for us superior-minded chosen, he side considered. The card was there, slipped in the card slots of his wallet. He folded it back up and replaced it in his back pocket.

Then he lifted his swollen suitcase up and lumbered downstairs toward the front door. As he did this he also considered where to head first. His only thought at this point was to get a flight out to New York City. Jess may yet still be out in that section of the country, who knows.

This was still running through his head as he put down his case to open the front door. There _was_ a screen door on the back entrance of the house, but none for this one. So once the door was open, access in or out was fully free and unbarricaded.

He swung the door inward and wide.

And instantly received the butt of an assault rifle to his face—from a paratrooper in full gear who was standing right outside the front door. The man's riot gear goggles were strapped firmly over his eyes, a hardened helmet hugging his skull.

Pahti went down from the powerful force of the hit. He was jolted into unconsciousness within a split-second.

Another paratrooper behind him grabbed the suitcase and followed the first as they headed back to the black mini-van parked out front. Once they threw the catatonic boy into the back of the tinted window vehicle, they got in themselves, closed up, and sped away.

Chapter 27

Baldwin Industries was stationed out of Davenport, Massachusetts and its President of Marketing, David Grier Berkstrom lived only twenty minutes away in the neighboring town of Milson. Jess considered hitting Berkstrom at home, possibly just driving up real fast to the house, running to the door, kicking it down, and obliterating the man any way she could.

But there were too many variables in that approach. Berkstrom was likely fully prepared for such a brazen direct assault, particularly if he could detect a chosen a quarter of a mile away. He might have a gun. And as advanced a combat tool as Jess was, she was no match for a bullet.

There was the option of trying for Berkstrom at work, yet it was likely a foregone conclusion that all Ell-Bau owned businesses were on the lookout for her, in disguise or no. If she was an unfamiliar in their workplace, she would be a dead giveaway.

She could, however, perform an indirect approach at getting to her mark. As Philip had mentioned to her, Berkstrom's immediate family members did not share his special condition of "chosen"-ness. Therefore, Jess concluded that she would have to seek one of these non-chosen out, casually hypnotize them, then program them to strike at Berkstrom, preferably in his home where he was most comfortable and offguard.

The method was particularly low, even by an assassin's standards; but that mattered nothing to Jess in her present state of mind. Only that the assignment given to her be carried through to completion.

Lest horrors that Jess' conscious mind couldn't possibly fathom, or be aware of for that matter, be carried out with absolute abandon.

"We've got a possible hit!" Bauer's new assistant excitedly announced as he popped his head through his boss' office door.

Bauer had been staring out of his office window when the assistant spoke. He now had whirled about to face the younger man head on. "Jessica?" he hopefully asked.

"We think so."

"Where?"

"Massachusetts."

"Massachusetts..." Bauer repeated in contemplation.

"Yes, sir. Apparently it happens to have one of the least concentrated of our kind—only forty-eight really. And this morning it was identified as having forty-nine!"

Flitting his eyes in thought, Bauer considered, "Baldwin is there. She could be trying to hit one of our heads from it. They're sure about this?"

"Pretty sure, one of our own happened to drive by a hotel when he briefly caught the sense."

"Okay, let's get a team down there immediately."

"Yes, sir!"

Patricia Berkstrom was the twenty-year-old daughter of David, and a third-year college student at the University of Massachusetts.

Today she had two morning classes and then a break for an hour—where she normally went to the campus cafeteria to catch a bite to eat and study a bit.

She was coming out of the cafeteria when Jess approached her with an exuberant smile.

"Hi, let's go!" Jess beamed to the caught-off-guard Patricia.

"Aaaah—I think you got me confu—"

"You're Patricia Berkstrom, right?"

"Yyyyyeah, but—"

"Well I'm Nelly Moran and I represent _Forward_ travel agency. And our motto is 'Let's Go!' Simple and direct, right? Anyway, I'm here to tell you that you've been selected for a special offer! It's our 'Let's Go!' program where you are put in the running for a free trip to Acapulco. All you have to do is sign up for our travel brochure subscription, aaaaaand—we're there."

Whereas Patricia's eyes were looking a bit like deer caught in headlights, they now went expressionless and vacant.

And Jess knew the hypnosis had successfully taken effect once more.

"Patricia?" Jess asked atonally.

And in the same flatness, Patricia responded, "Yes?"

"I want you to follow me."

"All right."

"Stanford?" Jean's voice came through his office intercom.

"What is it, Jean?" Stanford replied.

"I know you wanted me on the Grishenko people, but we've just received word that Ell-Bau is sending a task force to Massachusetts. Isn't that where the girl is?"

"She is. They may be on to her. Redirect your efforts to assembling a strike team to intervene." Stanford's tone was tense.

"Yes, sir. We'll be gone ASAP."

"Is it clear what you will do?" Jessie droningly asked the expressionless Patricia.

They were in Jess' car a little more than a quarter mile out from the Berkstrom household.

"Yes," Patricia said lifelessly.

"Repeat it to me."

"I will act like my normal self until dinner time, when the whole family is gathered at the dining room table. I will make sure to sit next to my father and as close as possible. When he is halfway through his meal, I will take a dinner knife and stab him in the heart. If I can, I will also get him in the neck; I will make sure to cause him mortal injury."

"If one of the others tries to stop you, what will you do?"

"I will stab them as well."

"Good. After the task is done, you will go on as your normal self. You will not under any circumstances remember me or what we have talked about. Is that clear."

"Yes."

"Good. Get back into your own car and drive home."

"Okay."

And Patricia got out of Jess' vehicle.

Bauer was pacing in his office, his cell phone was glued to his ear. "How far out, what's your ETA?" he asked the company plane's pilot.

"Two hours. Be at the town in roughly twenty minutes after we land."

"Okay. Call me when you land."

"Yes, sir."

"Hey mom, hey dad," Patricia greeted her parents as she walked through the front door of the house.

David responded in kind, "Hey, my little nectarine. How were classes today?"

"Uh, okay, I guess."

"'Uh, okay, you guess,' is that what our thousands are going to, classes that are just okay?"

"Well, it's Bio, Trig, and French, dad. If they were all interior design classes, we'd be in business."

"Well, I suppose that's true." He motioned her to follow him. "Come on in the kitchen and help your mom and I fix the fajitas and salad."

"Okay. What time's Jake getting home?"

"Your brother should be home in an hour. Your sister in two."

"So we eat in two then?"

"Yep."

"You're there?" Bauer asked the pilot through the cell phone.

"Yes, sir, just landed."

"Good. Now remember, if it _is_ her and you take her into custody, make _sure_ that her mouth is taped shut. I know how vile that probably sounds to you, but she's well versed in hypnosis so don't take any chances."

"It'll be done, sir."

"Good. Talk to you soon."

"Hopefully in thirty."

And they hung up.

Jess had remained in her car and activated a video phone. The video was showing everything that the mini-cam was filming—which was the dining room of the Berkstrom home. She had planted the obscurely hidden thing in the house while everyone was away this afternoon.

Presently the video was showing the Berkstrom family setting up and gathering together for the "fajita feast."

She watched intensely but also with an air of detachment. As if a tiger or a panther was coldly eyeing its next four-legged lunch.

Patricia's brother, Jake, announced, _"Ah,_ chicken and stake fajitas," with vigor as he took his seat—though not his normal dinner table seat—to eye the food laid before his family.

Everyone was now seated at the table and ready to dig in: David, his wife, Gail, Patricia, Jake, and their youngest sibling, Darla.

"The only thing wrong here is that I'm not at my regular chair, _Patricia,"_ complained Jake in a half-joking manner.

Patricia defended, "I wanna be close to Daddy today."

" _Aww..."_ David said as he placed a loving, paternal hand on Patricia's shoulder for a brief moment.

" _Awww,"_ both Jake and Darla mocked in a bit of vicious derision.

"Joke if you must," Patricia retorted with a lifted chin; her tone was of false bravado. But then she cracked a toothy grin.

" _Oh,"_ Jake said, _"we must."_ Then he turned to Darla and they mirrored smiles.

Gail locked her fingers together in a gesture of prayer and uttered, "Oh Lord, please get us through this meal."

Everyone chuckled a bit.

Soon after, they began eating.

Jess kept her eyes glued to the phone's video screen, to the family being filmed in real time. She could see that they were now chowing down. Knowing that she would have roughly five minutes before David was halfway through his meal, she decided to press record for some lead time. The "recording" red icon appeared on the mini-monitor. For another thirty seconds, she simply stared down at the device.

And then abruptly, she jerked her head up from it and her expression tightened. She speedily looked about.

The Ell-Bau's were coming. She could sense them.

But none were in sight at this point. Yet she could feel a very strong sensation of their approach, as if many were nearing her.

She threw the phone in the glove compartment—no time to watch the kill take place—and started up the car. I must not be captured again, her mind bombarded, I can't, I won't. The results would be too hideous to bare. She put the car in drive and raced away.

"Jake, buddy, you gotta chew your food," David nagged his son. "You're gonna destroy your digestive system if you just inhale your meals."

David had a point, Jake was scarffing down his fajitas, barely stopping to load more in and take few chews of the meat.

"My stomach is iron, pops," Jake boasted with a mouth still full of food.

"Yeah, well, it won't be forever, believe me." David forked a chunk of chicken and brought up to mouth level. "Now look, Jacob Bradley, here we go..." And he put the bite in his mouth to chew. "...Now, notice that I am actually taking a bit of time to _chew_ my food as it's in my mouth..." He rotated his jaws in a show of fairly extensive food chewing and softening. "... _At least a half a minute_ for the chewing..." He ground the meat in his mouth for the prescribed amount of time. _"Then_ you swallow." And he demonstrated the downing of his properly softened bite into his stomach by a show of his throat's gyration. "Like that. See, it's not rocket science or solving the quadratic; basic stuff here."

Jake rolled his eyes, of course.

"I can see you're not sold. Let's try it one more time," David playfully taunted his boy.

"Could you, dad?" Jake asked mockingly yet goodnaturedly. "I think I missed a few steps on the whole massive procedure."

" _Ready?"_

"I'm ready this time, pop."

"It's focus time now..." So "Pop" David speared another morsel of meat—steak this round—and brought it up to his mouth to eat.

This bite of food constituted the midway consummation of David's meal.

Jess drove well over the speed limit down the highway road. She was roaring at a good ninety-five miles an hour in an attempt to lose the sense of her true brethren.

Thus far it was not working. They must be following me, not far behind, she concluded. There's no point in going any faster now, they've already pinpointed my vehicle. My speeding past every car has helped them identify me as well. Only one thing to do now...

She hooked in her phone to the center panel inlet display above her gearshift. Then pressed the handsfree and speed-dialed Philip.

After a ring, he answered, "Hello."

Jess informed, "I've been discovered. My kind is following me now."

"Where are you now?"

"On I-89 heading into Sharpton, five miles out."

"I've been told that a team is already heading out your way. They'll meet you in Sharpton. Keep on 89 and then exit...Carp River Drive."

"Then where?"

"I'm looking...there's...a shopping mall with a parking structure just three miles down on Carp River. Pull into the parking, first level, and park the car. Lock your doors and await the team's arrival."

"Yes, sir."

She hung up and drove on.

David displayed his mastery of chewing for a healthy digestion a second time, swallowed his meat, and said to his son, "Did you register all of that this time, Jakey?"

"Yes, poppy," Jake humorously responded.

"Now let's try together."

"O-kay."

David dug in, as did his son.

As did Patricia. With a knife. Straight at her father's heart.

Jess shot into a parking space inside the mall's parking structure on the first level. She shifted into parked but kept the motor running. She made sure the doors were locked; her seatbelt stayed strapped on her.

She looked about to see if any cars were coming up on her. There were none. It seemed that whoever was following her was reluctant to make an abrupt hello. But she understood how they thought and knew she would do the same in a similar circumstance.

She could feel them. They _were_ close...but then the warm and agreeable sensation was counterpointed by a familiar revulsion in her being.

The Pear-Paul team had also arrived.

"OH MY GOD!!!" Gail shrieked with terror that shook her very core. She had just witnessed her first born daughter calmly and quickly drive a knife deep into her husband's chest—right over the heart.

But before Patricia could dislodge the knife for further injury to her dear father, Jake leapt violently and springingly out of chair to ram and tackle her. They fell crashingly, loudly to the floor.

Gail and Darla launched up from their own chairs, screaming with a terrifying shrill; their hands were raised up to face level, rigidly apart and shuddering.

Gail was closest to David, so she rushed to him first as he was faltering to the floor from his chair. She hollered his name while she caught him and kept him sitting up.

Jake was doing his absolute best to keep Patricia pinned effectively to the linoleum floor. Patricia said nothing, looked at nothing. Her face was blank, cold.

Darla however, "MOM! MOOOM! TAKE IT OUT OF HIM! OH GOD! OH MY GO-HI-HOD!"

"Don't..." David weakly, painfully uttered as his eyes popped, winced, popped, winced, again and again. Waves of agony plagued him.

"GET IT OUT!!!" ordered Darla in her hysterics.

"I CAN'T!" Gail shouted with fright.

"She's right!" Jake gritted, still trapping his older sister safely to the floor. "If she pulls it he'll bleed out!"

"Darla, call 911! Now!"

Darla bolted toward the landline house phone and dialed those precious three numbers.

Inside the SUV filled with Ell-Bau task force agents, their leader faced his people from the front passenger seat and instructed, "All right, here's the plan. My guess is that Jess' car will be the one still running. We see a tailpipe exhaust, and that's the one. Our sense increases, and we'll know for sure. Then we have to rush to box her in. Tranqs set?"

Yes, sirs came back from his men.

"Good," he said tensely. "Let's go. Eyes out for Pear-Pauls."

The driver moved forward the SUV and they rounded the corner of a row of parked cars.

Halfway down the row, they spotted the right car, Jess' car. They sped forth and then halted screechingly just in back of it. The girl was now trapped in the space.

Yet just as they stopped, a vicious, crazy storm of gunfire thrashed the SUV from the opposite side of Jess' car. Were it not for the reinforced hull of the vehicle and bulletproof glass, many inside would have been instantly injured or killed.

"Go! Go!" shouted the team leader.

The agents instantly obeyed and raced open the side slide door to exit on the rear of Jess' vehicle. But as they got out in the open, it was starkly clear that they would not be allowed close to the rear or front doors of the car—bullets from angled side positions horizontally rained in. Holes popped up all over the metal skin of the car. An agent was grazed in the forehead before he reacted fast enough to hop back into the SUV. Blood dripped down from his brow. He wiped at it to keep the liquid from blinding his eye.

"You four," the leader said as he stared at four men, "I want you to provide cover while I try to get to Jess!"

The four nodded quickly and moved out to disperse into twos on either end of the SUVs side opening. They immediately began firing at the enemy, staying close to the protective hull of the vehicle as possible.

The team leader stayed crouched as he hurried himself out of the opening and briskly trotted toward the driver's side door of the Jess' car. Once there, he quickly lifted the door, couldn't open it, so he instantly changed to trying to bash the window in with the gun's butt. Which wasn't as easy as it might have seemed. It took him, in his quite crouched down position, several tries to at least make some cracks in the door's glass.

Pear-Paul agents were now fortifying their side-angle positions, increasing the firing frequency from those positions. The four Ell-Bau's were now having to duck behind the SUV every few split seconds as a result.

And also as a consequence, more shots were getting through to the team leader's position. A shot bit a small chunk of flesh and meat out of his left shoulder before he could drop himself lower to the ground for cover. Blood flowed from the wound and he winced hard. "NNNNNNNGH!"

But another shot accidentally smashed the window to bits! Shards of it rained down on the wounded man. Instinctively he turned his face away from the down-spray of sharpened glass pieces.

Not long after this happened, it became obvious the Pear-Paul agents had taken up further side-angle positions, widening the arc of firing zones. Now the cover fire Ell-Bau's had no choice but to back themselves into the SUV once more, and use it to hide while they continued to fire around the corners of the vehicle's hull.

The gun fire was maddening for a good few seconds...

...and then it halted shortly after Jean had yelled, "CEASE FIRE!"

A brief moment of tense silence followed.

And she spoke on in a shouting tone, "Ell-Bau agents! I'm Jean Ferrell, Head of Security for Pear-Paul! If you've heard of me then you know I don't lose in battle! I've got you pinned down and you know it! your only chance to get out of here alive is to leave Jessica unaccosted and drive away without her!

"You who is by the driver's side of Jess' car, you were the bold one so I'm guessing you're the leader! Acknowledge that you are so we can talk!"

The Ell-Bau team leader hesitated to speak, kept silent.

Jean shouted, "We can't let this go on for much longer before this possibly turns into a PR nightmare for our companies! Acknowledge now, or it gets truly ugly!"

The team leader held back another second then finally hollered, "I am the team leader!"

"Good! Now! You must know that Jess is not on your side! She will not aid you in achieving your goal! Your only chance now to survive is to order your men to stand down, and for all of you to drive away and return to your—!"

But Jean's plea was joltingly cut off by a powerfully loud rifle shot from far off in the shadows of the vast garage. Another exploded with a thunderclap.

And two Pear-Paul agents went down, pierced in the craniums and deceased within an instant.

Jean immediately took cover inside their own SUV, avoiding another mortal round of sniper fire. But two more of her agents were not so lucky: another pair of earth-shaker rifle shots rendered them instant corpses.

"Go! Move!" Jean ordered the driver of the vehicle, and he immediately complied, screeching the wheels as he plowed forth. They drove away from the scene with engine-revving quickness. A second later, they were gone from sight, the sound of their motor fading out.

The Ell-Bau team leader ventured a cautious lifting of his head, then his torso into a sitting position. His eyes were darting about, wondering what the hell just happened. Then he focused his stare on his men inside the SUV. He could see they had the same baffled, "deer in headlights" expression he now possessed. They looked at each other then at him.

Footsteps were coming near.

And a man's voice echoed out. "We won't fire on you, Ell-Bau! You can come out and meet us!"

Still uncertain, the team kept their positions.

The man reassured, "I promise we won't fire! Listen to it, we are putting our weapons on the ground..."

Clacks of metal hitting concrete were heard from a distance.

A team member inside the SUV took a tentative look out the front windshield of the vehicle. What he saw down the driveway corroborated with the sounds. The snipers, two of them—a man and a woman—had indeed put their rifles on the ground. The duo stood there waiting. The agent nodded to his team members and they, in turn, nodded to their leader.

He rose to his feet clutching his bloodied shoulder and walked over to his men, who had just exited the injured SUV to meet him halfway.

To the two agents on his left he said, "Secure Jess— _very_ carefully."

The two tasked agents moved to both sides of the car's front doors and stared in.

Jess, who had been lying flat throughout the entire armed skirmish, still held her lowered, flattened out position. Her head was resting near the passenger side door. A look of restrained fear was gripping her eyes as she stared back at the driver's side agent.

To her, he cautiously said, "Jessica? I'm going to reach out and unlock this door. I need you to remain calm."

He slowly reached forth and through the shattered, jagged opening to attempt access the lock/unlock button inside the door. He almost had his gloved on it when Jess suddenly and with spring-quickness of a rattlesnake, viciously kicked at his hand. And just as quick, the agent yanked his hand and arm out of the door's window frame.

"Okay, enough," he curtly announced and aimed his tranq at her shoulder, fired.

The anesthetizing dart hit its mark. Jess flailed violently for a brief moment, then lost consciousness and went completely limp.

Over by the driveway, the other team members were closing the gap between themselves and the sniper twosome: Aly and Andre.

They halted and stood a few feet apart from the man and woman.

The team leader spoke first. "Thank you for your assistance."

Andre offered, "Yeah, sorry for the late arrival. Traffic and all. I'm Andre, and this is Aly."

"Grishenko's people."

"Were."

"You two knew what he was, right?"

"Of course, we did."

"Thennn, why help us—?"

"We have our reasons, but right now it might be best to vacate the premises. Who knows if the cops are on the way."

The team leader nodded. "I agree. You'll follow us then?"

"We will."

"All right, let's move then."

They parted, rushing off in opposite directions. As the team of agents was approaching the SUV, the other two agents were carrying the slackened and catatonic Jess to load her into their vehicle.

"Let's get some tape and binders on her; she'll be waking up in an hour or so," the team leader ordered.

As they all piled in the SUV, the two handling Jess laid her down and proceeded with the distribution of required bind and gag items.

The door was slid shut and the bullet pounded vehicle came to humming life, put in gear, and u-turned out of the parking garage. Not long after, a sleek and red sports car followed them away from the ghastly scene.

Chapter 28

Stanford stared intensely out his office window, his teeth gritting beneath firmly pressed-together lips.

He stood fairly close to the expanse of thick glass while Jean stood in the middle of the room, watching the back of her new boss.

She attempted to keep her expression neutral and composed, but internally she was struggling with a bubbling, boiling stew of fear, panic, and self-disappointment. She did not exaggerate to the Ell-Bau's—she had never lost a combat excursion.

But then, she hadn't seen this hitch in the mission coming in the slightest. She still had no plausible or solid explanation as to _why_ the hitch occurred, or who was responsible. And that's what made her current predicament all the more unnerving.

And possibly life threatening.

"So," Stanford began, still gazing rigidly out the window at the buzzing cityscape beyond. "Your official report, please."

Jean clipped a fast clearing of her throat, then complied, "The Ell-Bau strike team arrived on the scene to attempt an annexing of Jessica. They blocked her car in with their own and tried to get to her. We opened fire and widened our perimeter to pin them down—which was working...until unseen sniper units began picking off my men...I saw no choice but to flee the scene before every last one of us was put down—"

"Perhaps that would have been preferable. Any clue as to who it would have been who offered their...assistance to our good friends at Ell-Bau?"

"No, it wasn't more of their kind. We would have felt them. And it doesn't seem like a back-up team they would have hired. They took out our men with impunity. No warning shots, no wounding to scare us off. Just straight shots to the head."

"Who did I task you with finding before this went down?"

"You think it's Grishenko's people? Why would they help—?"

"Because Ell-Bau has the vast resources to more readily wipe out my WIs. And with the information they stole, our enemy chosen will likely welcome them with open arms."

"Particularly after they helped get Jess back, I see...What would you like me to do now, sir?"

"We have one of their own in our custody. I think we should offer up a prisoner exchange: Jess and the snipers for the Indian boy...Carnegie was right. We did need an insurance policy...Speaking of which, you and I may be looking for new jobs—or our own tombstones—once Carnegie is informed of this fiasco."

"Let me handle Carnegie, sir. He and I have a certain...understanding."

Now Stanford turned finally to face his security head. His eyebrows ascended. "Do you...? Well, let us hope that understanding is enough to float us in the coming days.

"Prep the boy, get him in front of a camera and ready to convey our demands."

"Yes, sir, right away."

And she left.

Stanford calmly went back to the window view.

Chapter 29

The front entrance was no good. Had the Ell-Bau strike team attempted to cart the bound and tape-gagged Jess through the HQ's lobby doors, it surely would have roused disturbing suspicions of passerby's on the street out front.

Instead, the team carried her in through the emergency exit door attached to the stairwell. Through there, they made their way to the opposite end of the lobby and piled into the elevator. As it ascended to the eighth floor, the noiseless scanner built into the shaft car's hull scanned Jess for foreign materials that could be a threat to herself and others. None were found.

The eighth floor was reached, the doors separated, and the group poured out of the elevator to be greeted by the medical team.

Its leader spoke. "She's heavily sedated still?"

As the strike team carried Jess on and the medical team followed, the team leader replied, "Still, yes. We couldn't take any chances with her."

"Understood. The bed's ready for her, restraints and all."

"Okay."

And Jess was carried away, out of sight.

Bauer sat at his desk in his solitary office and felt his world crush a little tighter. No, a greater deal tighter, in fact.

He closed shut his laptop computer and leaned back to stare up at the ceiling in a stupor of utter despondency. The now clammed up device had just shown him a video file sent to him by the generously vile individuals from Pear-Paul. Within the file contained a filmed message from a seated and face bruised Pahti Afhari.

On the video he struggled to say, "Greetings, pathetic heretics of Ellison and Bauer. I, Pahti Afhari, have been instructed to give you a crucial message that you seriously need to consider. They have done what you see before you to demonstrate only a sample of the damage planned if you don't comply with their demands.

"What they offer is an exchange. Myself for the safe return and non-hindrance of Jessica and her current psychological condition. In addition, the transfer of Grishenko's associates to Pear-Paul custody.

"If you agree to these terms in seventy-two hours, no further harm will come to me, and I will be released to your custody. I will not be tampered with in any way—there will be no attempts to Trojan Horse me to compromise your facilities or personnel. This is their guarantee to you and those who care for my safety.

"They await your answer. Remember, seventy-two hours to respond and comply...or they-they—" Pahti began to shake, his eyes growing tears.

Someone—a woman's voice of camera—barked, "Say it, read the script."

Pahti obeyed stutteringly, "Or—or they start tearing things off of me..." and he crumbled into a quivering mass of hysterical crying.

The video had gone black, ended.

And that lead to Bauer in his current state. This new development was compounded by the burden that he would have to go over to Erin and the others to inform them that: one, Jess had been brought back; and two, Pahti had been captured.

He had known, of course, of Jess' capture hours before as the strike team leader had radioed it in from the plane ride back. Yet he had decided to delay telling Erin and the rest until he was certain that Jess was not retaken at any given moment—until she was back in the Ell-Bau HQ and secured.

But she _had_ been brought in and tucked away in the medical wing. And Bauer _was_ just about to bring the good news to the others, when he received the phone call—from Stanford himself. The human filth had instructed him to check his email for one with an attached video file—the one Bauer just watched. The one that had thrown his mental/emotional state into greater upheaval.

He had seventy-two hours from now to make a decision.

He had no idea what to do.

But to realize that he now needed to reveal to the Belaski's, the Melendez's, and the Afhari's the current situation.

And allow them to share in his crushing weight of a burden.

Ellison might have known exactly how to solve this disturbing predicament. But he was still in mental shutdown while his body attempted a restart. There was no telling when he'd regain consciousness. Or even if he would be the man he was before his injury.

Lord, how Bauer needed him now.

Aly and Andre entered the lobby of Ell-Bau' HQ and approached the front desk attendant.

Aly spoke to the employee, "Hi, we're here to see Nick Bauer."

The employee replied, "You must be Alessandra and Andre."

"That's it," she confirmed with a polite smile.

"Please take the elevator to the eighth floor."

"Is there news about Jessica?" Erin came forth and asked as Bauer silently entered the conference room.

Everyone had gathered there at the couriered request, everyone who was still being protected.

"Anything about Pahti?" Mrs. Afahri fervently, anxiously inquired.

"Yes, we can't reach him on his phone," elaborated her husband as he leapt up by her side.

All were looking to Bauer for answers.

He was mute for another brief moment's pause, then he gravely informed, "Erin, I have some news about Jessica—but before I tell you, I need you to understand that I'm only informing you _now_ because we had to make certain that things were followed through...we _do_ have Jessica back now—"

"Oh thank God," Erin breathed and nearly faltered to the floor.

But Curt was near and embraced her. "Is she all right?" he asked with haste, "I mean is she injured in any way?"

"Physically she's okay," Bauer got out.

"Where is she?" Erin asked with widened, expectant eyes.

"In the medical wing—"

"Well then let's go—"

" _Before_ you do, there's more that I must tell you."

"Wa-was it Pahti that found her?" Mrs. Afahri ventured with uncertainty. "Is-is that why we couldn't reach him?"

Bauer mentally braced himself with a soberingly deep breath. Then revealed with such graveness, "Mr. and Mrs. Afahri...I'm afraid that your son...has been taken by Pear-Paul."

Mrs. Afahri gasped horribly and faltered forth to almost crumple fully to the floor.

Mr. Afahri's face shook with bulging-eyed terror as he quickly huddled to his wife, while spouting, "Not my boy! Not my Pahti!"

Understanding the situation in a heartbeat, Erin belted, "They'll give him back, won't they! All _we_ have to do is give up Jess...right?!"

Bauer nodded, blinking slowly. "...Yes...they've given us seventy-two hours to make a decision."

"Oh dear God!" Sophie almost shrieked in shock and revulsion.

Mrs. Afahri tore a long and tormented scream from her lungs.

The elevator doors opened on the eighth floor and Aly and Andre stepped out to be greeted by the front desk assistant.

"Good afternoon," the assistant said to them, "Would either of you like something to drink while we wait for Mr. Bauer?"

"Do you have espresso?" Aly and Andre asked in unison.

Fifteen minutes later, the conference room was populated by a different set of individuals.

The protected ones had retreated to their rooms to continue their tortured mental punishments in more secluded spaces. Erin was convinced by Bauer to wait to see Jess until they could be reasonably sure the situation was safe.

The conference room now counted among its inhabitants the tech crew led, of course, by Carrie. They were all huddled once again by the drone—which now looked much more complete as a sleek and streamlined design of a tech animal. The remote control device that Carson held in his hands and on folded legs also appeared more skinned and refined in its shape. It was clear the group had been busy getting things in shape for their next presentation to Bauer.

The conference room's doors opened up and Bauer entered escorting Aly and Andre in after him.

"Carrie, everyone," Bauer began, "this is Alessandra Pazzini and Andreavich Karpov. Apparently they have a proposal for us."

"Thanks," Andre said, "Primo espresso, by the way. Folks," He nodded toward the tech group, Aly did the same.

The group issued their perfunctory hellos.

Bauer closed the door and led his new arrivals closer to the huddled crew.

"What is your proposal?" Carrie asked with great curiosity.

Andre revealed, "We have information that I'm sure you're going to want to hear."

Aly added, "We're here to help you bring down the wasps."

"How?" Carrie pressed.

"We were recently guests of one of Pear-Paul's corporate establishments," Andre explained with a bit of sarcasm. "While there we managed to _take_ from them all pertinent files regarding the Wasp Initiatives. Their locations, their numbers, how many are where, and how they are tracked; you name it, we have it."

Justin raised his hand and said, "Not to sound in any way ungrateful but why are you interested in helping us with this, what do you get out of it?"

"Oh, the feeling of doing a good deed for the world at large," he facetiously answered.

Aly included, "And the possibility of a boat load of money—promised to us by our former business associate."

"Grishenko," Bauer elaborated. "That's what he phoned you about before you took him out?"

"In short, yeah. If you couldn't deliver on your promise to him all on your own, we were tapped to assist. Our late benefactor was a very thorough man."

Carson asked, "How much did he promise you both?"

"In the amounts of eight hundred thousand for each of us. Enough to float us for a few years while we attempt to find a replacement for our dear departed friend."

"I have a question," another team member spoke up, "What's stopping you from just taking the money right now?"

" _Honoring_ Grishenko," Andre blurted—again, facetiously.

Aly admitted, however, "Plus we only have the account number for the money, not the pass code which allows us free access,"

"Who does though?" Justin asked.

"Well, there was Grishenko. And we assume he instructed someone to give it to us upon completion of the job."

"You _assume?"_

"Or no one has it. We'll only know for sure once we've fulfilled the contract."

Andre added with a bit of verve, "But just the possibility of this kind of payday is incentive enough to proceed with the job...plus we get to meet interesting folk such as you all."

Carrie chirped up again, "Do you have the wasp files with you?"

"We do— _however,_ the wasps aren't the only target for us. You all should understand right now that we were also contracted to take out a certain individual whom our files kept referring to as the 'Hornet' operative...you would know her as Jessica Belaski-Melendez."

Bauer's eyes became disturbed, his brow cinched with intensity. "Then...I'm at a loss, I don't understand why—"

"Why we helped you just now with getting her back safe and sound?" Aly finished for Bauer, "Two reasons. One: we need your help to eliminate all of the wasps. Two: we know that Jessica has been brainwashed to be an assassin. Now Andre and I have come to a decision concerning her— _if_ you can convince us that she can be mentally turned around to stop serving Pear-Paul, we will renege that part of the contract."

"You'll pardon me if I play devil's advocate here, but what's to stop you from fulfilling the full contract once all the wasps are eliminated?"

"Yeah," Carrie added, "Isn't it possible that you won't get paid a dime if you don't complete the entire job?"

Aly and Andre looked at each other with a sly, conspiratorial expression for a brief moment.

Andre said, "Let's just say, if our—or really _my_ —suspicions are correct, we'll still get it all regardless."

Aly looked off with flippancy, "We'll see..."

"What if we can't...you know...turn her around?" Justin fearfully asked.

"Then...it might be better for all of you if she was taken out."

For a long moment, no one said anything. No one knew what to say.

Finally, however, Bauer broke the silence with, "There is a new issue that has arisen; one that will severely complicate all that we have been planning. One of our chosen, a boy who was recently under our protection and a close friend of Jessica's, has been captured by Pear-Paul, by Stanford."

"And they're offering a trade, aren't they," intuited Carrie.

"Yes, Jessica— _and_ you two," He stared at Aly and Andre with ascended brows, "for her friend."

"How was he taken if he was under our protect—?"

"He chose to leave—to try to search for Jess on his own. This was, of course, before we caught a lucky break locating her ourselves."

Carrie looked away and uttered, "Oh, that idiot..."

"Try not to condemn the boy. Under the circumstances at the time, he felt it was his only choice."

"How long have they given you to decide?" Andre asked flatly.

"Three days."

"That _is_ a problem."

Aly put in, "Then I'd say that you have three days to unbrainwash her. Because Andre and I can't let her go back to them. Neither can all of you—unless you like having more of your people gutted."

"What about the boy?" Carrie asked, flustered.

"He made his choice."

"That's not how we operate as higher forms—"

"But it _is_ how we operate. You've got to decide what's more important here: the life of one, or the lives of many."

"For you two, it's just dollars!"

"Oh, and are you running a charity here, or a worldwide corporation?"

"You know those people! They'll torture that boy beyond bel—!"

" _Carrie,"_ Bauer intensely said to cut her off. "You can't worry about this right now—as much as you'd want to. You have to work with these two to eliminate the WI's. Is the prototype fully ready?"

"Yes," she said, trying to contain her frustration and contempt.

"Then transfer the specs to _Transistor_ and get your team mobilized down there to supervise. They already know you're coming."

"Yes, sir," she agreed, a bit cooler headed this time.

Bauer turned to the two assassins. "Can I talk to you two in private?"

"Sure," Andre flatly replied.

And the three of them left the conference room.

Carrie, particularly, was glad the killers were gone from her sight.

The three entered Bauer's office and Bauer, himself, closed the door behind Aly and Andre. They all stood in the center of the room, the two seemingly carefree and daredevil assassins faced their host, as he faced them.

"Listen...it's not that I don't appreciate your assistance but, in matters concerning Jessica, I would prefer that you discuss her only with me. My tech crew need to remain completely focused on the counter-wasps initiative if things are to happen in a timely manner."

Aly and Andre looked briefly at each other, sharing puckered lips of quick contemplation before bringing their gazes back to Bauer. And saying out of unison, "All right."

"Also, you're telling me we have three days to fix Jess—or you're going to try and take her down."

"Not try, Mr. Bauer," Aly said with finality.

"If you go against our directives in accomplishing our goals, Mr. Bauer," Andre warned, "then we'll take our information and go elsewhere."

"And we'll get to Jess eventually. What, are you going to keep her locked up forever? Come on. We know who you people are; it's not in you to trap someone against their will for years on end."

"Now just— _wait..."_ Bauer pleaded in mired frustration. He walked past the two and stared off in his own rapid contemplation of a viable solution...suddenly, one came. He whipped about to face them again. "Okay...just hear me out on something for a moment."

"We're listening," Aly guardedly said.

"I suggest an alteration to your contract."

"As a rule, we typically don't do that, Mr. Bauer."

"Maybe you might if you knew that the full payoff depended on it."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I know who holds the pass code to the account."

"I knew it," Andre belted to Aly, "pay up."

Without delay, she tore a folded five dollar bill from her pants pocket and plopped it onto Andre's waiting hand. He briskly buried it in his own pants pocket.

Aly offered, "I suppose you're not going to reveal who it is until we agree to your change in the contract. And after the job is complete."

"You are correct," Bauer admitted.

"All right, Mr. Bauer," Andre conceded. "What is your alteration?"

Bauer laid it out for them in full, no detail missed or omitted.

After hearing their host out, both Aly and Andre excused themselves from the room, door closed again behind them, and conferred with each other in hushed voices.

After a brief period of discussion, the two reentered the office and confronted Bauer.

"All right, Mr. Bauer," Aly said with a touch of apprehension. "We agree to your terms."

Then Andre warned, "But if for some reason—and I know it's unlikely with you types—but if you are misleading us about knowledge of the pass code holder—and I have to give that five back to her—I promise you, you will be the next target after Jessica."

"Very well then," Bauer abided, a very small and pathetic part of himself wishing that they would make good on their threat right here and now.

"Though I must admit, I don't know how you're going to get all of what you're proposing done within three days' time, clock ticking as it already is."

"Just get down to the _Transistor_ plant as soon as you can to assist in supervising and implementing the drones based on your files. And leave Jess and her friends to us."

"On our way."

"Oh—one more thing with you two..."

"Yeah?"

"How did you know about our rescue attempt in the first place?"

Andre answered, "Oh, I'm a bit of a techie myself. With my own designed remote surveillance devices, I honed in on yours _and_ their communications."

"...I see."

"See you soon, Mr. 'Ellison and Bauer.'"

And the two glib assassins left the room on their way out of the building.

Chapter 30

An invisible hand was viciously clutching and twisting Pahti's chest as he sat bound to a chair—in a clean, white room on the sixth floor of Pear-Paul's Midwest HQ.

He was alone and petrified. Yet with all the hideous anxiety he now felt, he admitted to himself that he would rather endure this circumstance than have Jess returned to this godforsaken hell pit.

Though he was deftly afraid, this did not deter his intellect from meticulously constructing what the inhabitants of this place had in mind for him.

If the three days grace, decision period came to an end and Jess _was_ handed back to Stanford and his lackeys, then Pahti was sure to become another Trojan horse of brainwashed directives to undermine and weaken Ellison and Bauer, to destroy his brethren.

If Jess wasn't turned over, Pahti would be tortured beyond his wildest nightmares until Ell-Bau finally relented.

Or until he was dead.

Either way, Pahti knew that the brainwashing attempts would be forthcoming quite soon. It simply made sense. These human cesspools that had ensnared him would do anything and everything to bring down their opposites. And not get publicly noticed for it, of course. Naturally. Bad press was death to a corporation's financial health. Even Pahti in his limited exposure to the business arena had figured that one out.

The door to the practically bare room opened and a tall, gauntish man with pale skin and bright blonde hair entered. He closed the door behind him and walked a few steps to stand and stare at Pahti. The seemingly underweight man had a frighteningly pleasant look to his face.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Afahri," the man greeted him, "May I call you Pahti?"

The bound boy remained mute, rigid.

The man, nonplussed with silent reaction, spoke on politely, "I am Werner Vikt, Pear-Paul's resident hypnotherapist and neuro-specialist. My mother was from Hamburg, Germany but my father hailed from Vinterburg, Switzerland. I am 47 and my favorite thing to do in life, as you might imagine, is tinkering with the many facets of the human mind. It absolutely fascinates me, I can't begin to tell you.

"Now that you know a little bit about me, perhaps you can tell me a little something of you, yes?"

Pahti, again, simply stared at him with tense apprehension.

"No? Well. Allow me to fill the blanks then. You are Pahti Afahri, your parents are Harneesh and Dharma Afahri who work for Maidchen Technical University as physics professors. You immigrated to this country eleven years ago from the Kunali Province of Pakistan.

"And currently you are a prisoner under my care for the next three days, if not longer.

"Now that we have gotten to know each other, I feel I can be a bit more candid. As I mentioned to you just now, I simply enjoy working with and on the mind. And I intend to do so with yours, beginning shortly."

Pahti braced himself, tightening his already anxiety-ridden body and mind. His teeth gritted under pursed lips.

"Oh no, look, you are frightened and tensed, Pahti," Vikt observed with dismay as he slowly approached the boy for a closer look. He knelt down in front of the chairbound wreck. "That won't do for what we are performing this afternoon. Let's try something...

"Did you know that the right combination of words spoken with the proper tonal frequency can actually cause a neural response that triggers certain nerves to fire with great massivity? Depending on the word juxtaposition, varying tones, you can make, say, the foot or the hand, a whole arm, or even the brain itself feel enormous waves of pain. It's true. And the benefit of the one performing the procedures comes simply that _they_ , themselves, will not suffer from the phenomenon because the frequencies are differed when hearing them from inside one's own head. As opposed to what the addressing subject hears, no? So you comprehend the concept. You will suffer while I will not.

"Now, you will naturally take the stance of uncooperativeness. So let's put my theory into play: clocking distinguished mile."

The tonal frequency of his voice must have been dead on with the combination of selected words—Pahti's arm suddenly jerked with enormous pain. He blurted a short and shock-filled scream. After a brief moment the pain subsided. But the experience was indelible, Pahti instinctively didn't want to feel anything like that again.

A small touch of prideful satisfaction lay in Vikt's eyes as he asked, "Effective, yes? Now, I will have to continue with this method of coercion if you are unable to calm yourself. We can only continue if you are relaxed and free of anxiety."

But it was clear to Vikt that Pahti was going to be even more torqued—and defiant.

"Masculine school calculation board," Vikt toned properly.

And Pahti's foot instantly felt like it was on fire. And stayed that way for a good ten seconds.

" _YAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"_ Pahti shrieked in utter and exquisite agony. He bucked wildly in his chair, wrenching his face in contorted cinching.

When the misery ended, the boy wheezed in whistlings as he attempted to forcefully acclimate himself.

"Again, that is only a sample of what can be inflicted upon a subject with this particular method," Vikt calmly warned. "I've studied these techniques extensively over a number of years. I don't know for sure if I am the leading expert in this field, but I like to think I'm sufficiently versed.

"Attendance additional reception."

It felt to Pahti like someone was ripping his left pinky finger off. He tensed horribly as his torso and head constricted violently forth as far as his bindings would allow. He madly gritted his teeth while emitting an elongated and guttural growl.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Vikt asked with intrigue etched in his eyes. "The finger is still there, yet it feels as though it has been ripped clean. The mind is truly a remarkable device."

The misery ceased for Pahti after a merciless few seconds. He pounded out desperate breaths.

"Now...I think we should take a moment to center ourselves. And think on what our next actions should be, yes?"

Yet, both Vikt and Pahti already knew it was going to be a long session of a day.

Chapter 31

Erin so desperately wanted to see Jessica, to hold her tight and somehow magically turn her daughter's mind back to who she truly was.

Unfortunately, there were a few things in the way of that possibility.

One was that Bauer and the medical staff at Ell-Bau felt it might be hazardous to the psychological wellbeing of one or both of the mother and daughter. Two, Erin couldn't help but be vehemently distracted in her mind regarding Pahti. She knew that it was because of Jess that the poor boy was to suffer greatly if he wasn't already. Erin felt tremendously remorseful for his parents, and how they must be going straight out of their minds right now.

And three, she knew that love, no matter how strongly felt, couldn't change a thoroughly brainwashed mind. Regardless of what Erin had seen in the movies over the years.

Of the first concern, Bauer promised that once Dina had made some serious headway with Jess' mental reorientation—if that was even possible!—then he would be more than willing to have Erin and Jess officially reunite. Until then, Erin would have to settle for a video clip of Jess that was playable on the laptops given to the group of protectives.

And what she saw on that was not very encouraging: Jessica strapped both wrists and ankles to a medical gurney, her mouth taped closed so that she couldn't attempt any form of hypnosis on the staff.

Her eyes vacant one moment, enraged the next.

Everyone had seen the video: Al and Sophie, Dean, Curt, and even the Afahri's viewed the visual evidence of Jess' return.

Erin also desperately wanted to speak to Pahti's parents. Thus far, however, they had locked themselves away in their designated room and weren't keen on speaking to anyone. Erin sympathized and respected their need to deal with this mind-crushing crisis on their own terms. She also felt somewhat like the enemy now—it _was_ her daughter that was indirectly making this happen to the Afahri's. Erin had a strong feeling that she would be one of the last people they would want to see right now.

And yet she felt guilt on another level—Erin had her daughter back where she was out of physical danger; while Pahti was in completely the opposite position!

Thinking about it was unquestionably a crushing weight, bordering on hysteria inducing. So she tried not to, forcing Curt to play endless and morose rounds of poker. Or attempting to watch TV or a video movie. Once in a while she would get in a timid yet lengthy workout in the company's gym.

None of it, however, proved very effective in making her forget the situation.

"Jessica," Dina said to the bedbound and gagged girl as she entered the room. "You remember me, don't you?"

Jess stared bug-eyed at Dina for a brief moment then darted her gaze away.

Dina went on, "You know why I'm here, don't you. You know that we have to try and reverse what has been done to you."

Jess violently shook her head but kept her eyes off Dina.

"There's something, isn't there? Something they've instilled in you—something very primal that they've used to control your every move, your every motivation..."

Once again the vicious shake of the head.

"I'm willing to wager that you're not even aware of it on a conscious level...that it's something that resides only in your deepest subconscious...But it's something that has managed to override everything that you hold crucial to your existence."

The mad shake a third time.

"It frightens and enrages you to be faced with the truth of it, doesn't it..."

Jess' head arced side to side insanely for a fourth time as she growled muffled cries of rage and defiance, denial.

"And since the origin of this suggestion was implanted in you when you were only a small child of one, it follows that said suggestion would prey on what was most important to the core of your psychology at that time...the core that still exists today..."

Stifled and rebellionistic hollerings shot from Jess' taped over mouth, again and again...

"...And what _is_ most important to a young child's core, the very thing that fosters their deepest sense of security and sanity...their parents..."

Jess purged muffled screams without end...

"...But I know that you never knew your father... _You_ told me that, remember? So it couldn't have centered on him..."

Jess' raging from her lungs intensified...

"...No...it must have had to do solely with your mother—"

And suddenly, Jess' head launched forward to pierce Dina with a stare of white-hot fire. Vibrating rigidity constricted the girl's entire being as she locked eyes with her former mentor. Had she not been bound to the bed, Jess surely would have tried to attack and kill Dina with utter impunity.

Dina had hit her mark, and Jess wasn't even fully aware of it, despite such a vehement reaction.

"That's enough for now. I've managed to enrage you and you don't even know why— _I_ don't even know exactly why. But we'll get to it, no matter how long it takes. We love you, Jessica, and we're going to fix this."

"Grew oo!" Jess belted.

Dina didn't need to have that translated from muffled speak. She understood what Jess said perfectly.

Dean had been feeling quite helpless since he had become a protective under the custody of Ell-Bau Corp. For the first few weeks he had tried to participate in the normal activities that most everyone else had done—exercise, film watching, book reading, game playing, and the like. But after that, the research bug came calling and he needed to continue his long and intensive probe into everything Pear-Paul. He had secretly tried to rope Curt into joining him, but his brother-in-law politely refused, knowing that he needed to be close to Erin at all times.

So it was simply Dean on his own to carry on the fight on the public exposure end of Pear-Paul's corporate atrocities.

He already had so much evidence on them that, were it a normal company, he would have already brought them to their knees.

Yet one vital piece information eluded him—where the wasps were created.

In a way, he was envious of Grishenko's partners in that they had extracted more information from Pear-Paul's top-guarded servers than he ever had in his years of soul-scathing hacking. But even _they_ were not able to extol that crucial bit of info—the specific location of the labs that fostered the DNA freaks known as the WI's.

They couldn't have found it at Pear-Paul. Because its mainframe contained no record of the hidden facility.

Dean held strong suspicions about that fact—that there was only one man who initiated the whole damn thing in the first place.

Stanford Jordan.

Yet the information didn't even exist on Stanford's personal files: Dean had already hacked and checked. There weren't any equipment or supply manifests to the facility on file either. Not directly anyway.

Which was what Dean was currently attempting to reveal in their absolute and bare entirety: which dummy corporation was shipping what mislabeled supplies to where and exactly how.

If he could do that, he could go along way in making good on his word to Bauer: to assist in bringing down the wasps in anyway he could.

And finally help put an end to this damn war.

Aly and Andre knew that they'd be receiving a less than stellar greeting when they met up with the Ell-Bau tech crew at _Transistor._ From the way things went at the Ell-Bau conference room conversations, it was a forgone conclusion. Andre bet Aly that Carrie would give them the cold eyes the whole way. While Aly countered the bet that the tech leader wouldn't even be able to hold _that_ kind of control of her contempt, and resort to the stink eye. Once again the wager was for a five bill.

Andre won for the second time today.

"I assume," Carrie began in an arctic tone as she addressed the assassin twosome, "that you two will be relaying to us what you discovered from your pilfered files."

"Sure," Andre answered, "As long as you have coffee with us at the end of the day," he taunted with a jovial face.

Ignoring the derision, Carrie said, "We transferred the specs for our drone over to the mass production engineers here, but we need to know how many to build based on what you know."

"You have roughly seven WI's in any given corporate boundary," Aly informed.

" _But"_ Andre added, "you do not need to build a drone for each wasp. Just one for each pack—is pack the right term for—?"

"Swarm's probably better, Andy dear."

"Swarm—one for each swarm."

Carrie furled her brow. "But one drone will simply be overwhelmed no matter how much firepower we tack on to the thing."

"There is a tonal frequency you can instill into the drones that will disorient the wasps."

"I see, so once that happens, it will be easy to take them all out."

"Right, but you have another problem entirely. Pear-Paul is no doubt aware that we've stolen their files on the wasps. That means that the wasps will be on lockdown and not sent out again until, of course, we're taken out of the equation."

"So you're going to have to attack them where they're stored."

"Where _are_ they stored?" Carrie inquired.

"Underground, custom-made facilities for each pa—swarm, each group."

"But the groups," Aly interjected, "Answer to a main wasp at an instillation that, unfortunately, was not listed in the files. It's this one wasp that sends out the directives, the kills, who and where at what time."

Carrie looked off for a second, "...He was right..."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. So...I'm guessing that this-this hidden installation is most likely where the wasps were engineered in the first place—the first lab to put it all together."

"That was our assumption as well."

"Then it might make little difference if we take out all the others since this first wasp can be used as a template for a whole new generation of them...we have to find this compound—the labs, the wasps, the files, everything—and quarantine or destroy them all."

"And you're going to have to do it, I'm afraid, in less than three days," Andre reminded her.

"Why three days? I thought that only applied to Jess' situation." Carrie felt a twinge of contempt.

"Well, thanks to Bauer's new scheme, they're now linked."

Dean was on to something.

Presumably.

He found a link between a research supply company that did business frequently with a research and development laboratory—which itself had no address. In point of fact, an address was listed for the lab facility, yet when checked on a search engine map, that address pinpoints a medical research operation known for cure-finding.

Hacking into the delivery manifests of the supply company and the ones of the medical, he found inconsistencies in the box counts as they made will call destination.

Delving further, he found the miles per gallon and the miles traveled typically from location to location.

And it was determined by Dean's calculations that an extra six miles was made with each delivery trip.

But in which direction?

And what direct connection would it have with Pear-Paul, with Stanford?

Dina indeed had her work cut out for her.

She had spent so much time and energy building up Jess' mental defenses against any psychological tampering that she unwittingly mired herself for what she must now attempt.

It would have been simpler for her task if it were just the barriers of Jess' mind to contend with—Dina had built them with the knowledge that only _she_ could tear down if necessary. But the mental walls were now reinforced from within by the core subconscious suggestion. And it made sense as Dina thought things through. Stanford would have designed the blasted neural trap that way. As well as things that Dina couldn't even anticipate. That was what scared her the most—what might exactly be waiting for Dina _and_ Jess if they finally broke through the synaptic walls.

But with no choice, Dina began.

Chapter 32

"Objectivity morose junction."

Pahti's head exploded with a blinding headache. He ground his teeth together and gutturalled a misery-soaked groan.

A minute later...

"Particular geometric vernacular."

Caustic acid was burning imaginary craters into Pahti's stomach walls. "AAAAAAAAA-HA-HA-HAAAAAAAAH!!!" he screamed in helpless and sharp agony.

Minutes later...

"Gender subjectivity coalesce..."

Chapter 33

Carrie's team was heavy into talking things over with the engineers of _Transistor_. It was a good union, Carrie thought, the two groups seemed to speak each other's language in terms of technical of mechanical constructs. Even better, the people of _Transistor_ understood and accepted the harsh time parameters in which the job needed to be done. She hoped that she and her cherished team would be able to work with this exceptional company in the future.

Aly and Andre, however, simply made Carrie nervous; and she hoped after this crisis was over and done with that she never had a repeat association with them. They were killers, she was not.

Well...not of anything human, as it would soon come to pass.

Andre came toward her as she stood some distance from the intricate assembly line that was beginning to put the first drones together.

"What's the status, guru girl?" he asked in a mocking tone.

She ignored the slight and replied, "In forty-two hours we'll have the amount we need."

"That cuts it close, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. We'll only have a day to deploy throughout the world, _and_ take the wasps out. _If_ they're still in their designated locations—which brings me to another point. If they know that you know where they're kept, wouldn't they have moved them by now?"

"I was wondering when you'd finally get around to that conclusion. And you're part of the genius club..." he derided.

"I'm assuming you have a theory as to where they might be relocated to."

"A few...but I like Aly's the best. She thinks they've all been moved to one spot..."

"The hidden labs."

" _Hey,_ you are savvy, look at that."

"Provided it's big enough to hold them all."

"They came from there, so the possibility is sound."

"But there is no way to know for sure."

"That's true," he admitted jovially.

"So we're basing our whole operation execution on a guess at a location we can't even find."

"You _are_ good at putting things together," he mocked again.

"You're going to keep going, aren't you?" she bit back, "You're going to keep at it until you think I'm going to snap."

Looking about in mock consideration, he gave her, "Uuuuummm, yeaahhh." He eyed her again.

"You hold me in contempt somehow, but I am not a killer of human beings," she ground out in restrained rage.

"But you _are_ a killer as you and your friends will prove soon enough," he countered with lightheartedness that irked her badly.

"I would never—"

"Sure you would if you had no choice in the matter, if some wild eyed lunatic came at you wanting to tear you apart in the worst way. _Sure_ you would."

"That's different, that's self defense—"

"Yeah, yeah, the point is—there is a killer in all of us...some of us just happen to excel in it more than others."

"Maybe that's true, but if I _had_ to kill someone...I sure as hell wouldn't feel good about it, no matter who it was. And I sure wouldn't try to make a living out of it!"

He laughed knowingly.

"What's so funny?!" she spat.

"You," he said and got out a few more breathy chuckles. "You and your whole kind. How long have these wasps been doing their thing? Years, right? More than ten years these things have been killing, and what have you been doing about it?"

"I didn't _know_ about the wasps until a few weeks ago!"

"But your company knew, didn't they? And they let those people get killed...why? Did they benefit somehow from it...financially perhaps?"

"We didn't have the information you had—!"

"But you are supposed to be the cream of the crop, aren't you? You couldn't come up with a clever solution to eliminate a threat to several lives in the past ten-odd years?

"You may not have stung those exec's with poison till they convulsed to death, but you sure as hell didn't lift a finger to prevent it. Why don't you ask your superiors about _that_ one day...hm?"

He eyed her with a piercing stare for a brief moment then he walked on. She couldn't reply as a result of it.

"Coffee at six tonight, yah?" he mocked without a care as he got further and further away from her.

Chapter 34

Jess was not calming herself. And Dina needed her to be calm if she was ever to make progress with the hypnosis.

Therefore, Dina made the risky decision to approach Erin and see if the mother's presence might have the soothing effect on her daughter.

She knew, however, that the maneuver could worsen things—for both mother and daughter. But Dina felt she had no choice in the matter—she had to chance it.

Erin, of course, welcomed the opportunity.

But Dina had to prepare her first. If it was indeed true that Erin would have the beneficial effect on Jess, then Erin, herself, would have to initiate the beginnings of the hypnotic process.

It took a few hours to properly verse the willing mother in conveying the right stare and voice modulation. But at the end of the training session, Dina felt that Erin may be effective in enough to reach her daughter on a semi-conscious level.

But, of course, there was only one way to know for sure.

"Jess?"

Jessica was asleep, having napped for a few hours. But now her eyes were batting and squinting, signaling her return to consciousness.

She managed to focus her bleary eyes on her mother.

And almost immediately, those eyes became sparkles of euphoria and comfort.

Erin's mirrored them.

They were alone together in the medical wing. And before Jess became fully alert, Erin had to begin the hypnosis.

"Jess," Erin began in a soothing, semi-deep tone, "I wanted to talk to you about the Orange Festival..."

Jess' eyebrows drew in to meet a crinkle of her brow.

"...And how poor Bea wasn't allowed to go..." Erin continued, "Do you remember that, sweetie?"

Jess nodded slowly.

"Do you remember that you and Pahti cheered her up and bought a dessert for her?"

Jess looked as if a minor struggle might be deterring her thoughts—but finally she nodded again.

"Her sister was mean to her...she was mostly mean to her all the time...but you showed her a better way to treat someone, how to love with respect... _You_ became her sister..."

Without any warning or fanfare of facial alteration, Jess' expression turned blank, neutral.

Erin had done it. She reached forth and slowly, carefully pulled the strip of tape off of Jess' mouth.

"Jess?"

"Yes?" the daughter responded nominally.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Yes."

"Where are we?"

"We are in the medical wing of Ell-Bau."

"Do you know who I am?"

"You're Erin Belaski-Melendez, my mother."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"In all things?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to walk over to the door here, open it, and allow a person named Dina Mann in to come and talk to you...Okay?"

"...Okay."

"Okay..." And Erin did just what she described. Dina entered and casually yet almost cautiously came near to Jess' bed-bound and strapped in form.

"Your mother has invited me to talk to you, Jessica. She says that this is all right with you..." Dina ventured.

"Yes," Jess replied atonally.

"Thank you, Jessica. I'd like to talk to you about some specific events in your life. With each event we're going to go back in time; and deeper into your mind's recesses, Jess."

"Okay."

"Let's begin.

"I want to go to the time in your life when you and your friends and family were celebrating your sixteenth birthday."

"Okay."

"You and everyone are celebrating this event at a beach—Hawthorne Beach. The time is dusk and the ocean is beautiful. This is the last you remember having a perfectly joyous birthday. There are no incidents of drama; everyone is having a splendid time together."

"I remember."

"It was a perfect day even though earlier, before the party began, you had an argument that upset you greatly. Do you recall with whom and what it was about?"

"Yes. I argued with my uncle over the phone. I wanted him to come to the party but he refused. He said that he had important things that he needed to get done, that he couldn't get away. For some reason, he said he was doing what he was doing for the family, for me. That made me angry."

"It did make you angry. It made you angry because you had heard that excuse too many times in the past, hadn't you?"

"Yes."

"You love him dearly, don't you?"

"Yes."

"But this did not ruin your sweet sixteen, did it?"

"No."

"No...because there was someone there for you who could relate to what you were going through."

"Yes. Bea."

"That's right, Beatrice was your emotional savior that day. She reminded you that her own sister, whom she loved and once looked up to, turned away from her at every important time in her life."

"But then she put her arm around me and said that Delia will always be her blood sister, but I—"

" _You_ will always be her real sister...And everything was all right after that, wasn't it?"

This should be it, Dina thought hopefully, the first barrier penetrated—based on Jess' positive response to this particular question...

Jess replied flatly, "...Ye...Ye...Wait..."

Both Dina and Erin's chest tightened, their breathing caught.

Jess coolly went on, "...What is that...?"

"What is what, Jess?" Dina asked, trying to remain outwardly calm.

"...The...sand..." Jess' brow twitched a furl.

"The sand...? Jess?"

"...The sand...is rising...behind everyone...it's rising, extending outward in different directions in the air..."

Dina and Erin stared nervously at each other, then back at Jess.

As the girl elaborated, "...It is forming a center mass...two masses, a smaller on top, larger on bottom...the extensions are breaking—no, bending sharply...becoming something like...legs..."

"How many legs, Jess?"

"...Eight."

"Are they coming from the smaller mass?"

"Yes. The people can't see what is happening behind them...and I have no voice to warn them."

"Why, Jess?"

"...Because part of me..."

"... _Jess?"_

"...It's forming, changing, becoming more solid...smoother, glinting...black..."

"It's the spider, isn't it, Jess? The black widow that attacked you and your mother when you were a tiny child."

"Yes...it has become separate now from the sand beneath it, its own independent being...it's moving forth now, toward the people who still haven't turned to see it. They don't know...and I won't tell them."

"Won't? Or can't?"

"...Yes."

"Where is your mother?"

"Right here in the room with us."

"No, in your recollection of the event—is she near the spider?"

"No. She is closer to me, facing me...the spider is attacking, biting, injecting. The people are running now, screaming...they try to flee, but the spider is quick, it leaps..."

"Who does it have, Jess?"

"Shane Dennison, a classmate of mine...it has ripped his head clean off."

"Where is Bea? And Pahti?"

"Running...the spider will get them soon. It will get them all. There is no escape from something so quick and ravenous."

"You will allow this to happen?"

"If it must."

"You'll do nothing but stand there?"

"No, I will protect..."

"Your mother? How?"

And suddenly, Jess's eyes zigzagged signaling her mind's quagmire. An instant later, her face began to twitch.

Dina motioned joltingly, briskly for Erin to jump in, to help Jess out of her mental conundrum.

"Uh," Erin blurted as she came forth to get closer to Jess, "Baby...we can't let this thing tear us apart, we have to fight it, we have to kill it!"

"I...won't..."

" _Won't?_ Won't what, Jess? That thing is going to kill everybody!"

Dina shot a finger at Erin over and over again in severe haste.

Erin switched gears quickly, _"Me!_ It's going to get _me,_ Jess! What will you do to stop it from getting me?!"

Jess' face was racked with conflicting confusion, her eyes darting madly...

" _Please_ , Jess," Erin pleaded with fervor, desperation, _"Please_ don't let it get us! I can't go through that again, baby! I'll lose my mind! I'll lose you!"

"...I...we...It's killing Pahti...now Bea—"

"Then Curt's next, right?! Then my parents, everyone! Then it'll come for _us!_ You're one of the _chosen,_ Jess, one of the _better_ chosen! You can think of something ingenious to beat this thing! But you have to hurry!"

"...I—we...It just dove its fangs into dad, into his neck and shoulder, it's enfolding him...dad's eyes are rolling white..."

"Dammit, Jess! _Hurry!"_

"...It's now moved on to grandma and grandpa...it's speared both of them with its front legs...so quick, so powerful..."

"For Godsakes, Jess, stop admiring it and help me!!!"

"...It sees us now...it sees you...it's coming..."

"What do we do?! Think, Jess!"

"...The water..."

"The water?! The ocean?! You want us to go toward it?!"

"...Yes...get in...underneath...swim..."

"Swim down into the water! And the spider—will it follow us in?!"

"...Yes...but it will be slower, less coordinated and agile...It's coming..."

"Then run! Let's run _now_ to the water!"

"...Yes...It is fast..."

"We must be faster! Go! _Go!"_

"We are running, but it is almost on us..."

"Faster, Baby!" Erin hollered in desperation.

"The water is near...I can see the spider's legs on either side of us..."

"Keep going! Dive in as soon as you can!"

"We're running through the surf...I can feel mandibles on my back..."

" _Run!"_

"It's rearing up its mandibles, fangs..."

"Jump in!"

"...We've jumped into the water, mother...We're under now, swimming as fast as we can..."

"We did it, honey, we made it..."

"...We are going further and further out...The spider is doing its best to follow..."

"Are we gaining ground away from it?!"

"...Yes...but we can't swim for long, we will tire soon...and the spider will eventually catch up to us..."

Erin's eyes now did their own darting as she turned to Dina and pulled her away a few feet from Jess' bed. She whispered to the woman, "What do we do now?"

"My strong suggestion," Dina whispered back, "is to—and I know this sounds supremely silly under the circumstances, but—get creative. You're in the water, the ocean—what could be in there with you that could fend off this thing. What might even be able to kill it."

"Got it."

And they went back to Jess' side.

"...It's becoming hard to keep going, the current is strong against us...the spider is coming..." Jess droned on.

"Honey, I want you to stop swimming. Stop swimming, and imagine something for me, would you? I want you to imagine every kind of sea life that could be dangerous or deadly. Do it quick!"

"...I will..."

"Tell me what you see."

"...A school of piranha weaving into view...a large squid with thick tentacles that could crush a man in their grip...jellyfish with undulating strands of searing poison at their tips..."

"Make them all attack the spider! Now, Jessie!"

"Yes...it's happening now...they are converging on the spider...the school is biting it from all sides, attempting to burrow their way into its shell..."

"Good, Jess! That's good!"

"The squid has hovered above the spider...it has released a flood of blackened ink to blind the sight of the spider. Now it has descended to wrap its tentacles about the thing...while the jellyfish have attacked with their tips...the spider is in such pain..."

"Make them _destroy_ the spider, Jess."

"I will...I can't...not now..."

"Not now?! Why not?!"

"The piranhas have turned on the squid and are now boring their way into its innards...the jellyfish have detached from the spider to reattach to the squid, to sting it repeatedly..."

"Make them attack the spider, Jess!"

"I don't think she can," Dina said softly yet firmly.

"Why not?" Erin blasted, frustrated.

"Because I believe the spider is indicative of the baser suggestion of overriding control, it's part of her, and both will defend themselves.

"I think it has to be _you_ who somehow does the killing of this anomaly, of the aberrant presence of control."

"How do I—?"

" _Get_ creative..."

Jess narrated once more, "...The squid has been torn apart, ink is everywhere...piranha have now gone to work on the jellyfish, they're finishing them off in seconds...Now the spider is eating piranha one to two at a time..."

Erin and Dina conferred on in haste and hysteria, though they kept their whispers.

Erin tried, "I can't believe I'm suggesting this, but what if I pretend to be a shark or a whale or something? Something that could swallow it whole."

"It might work—but you _have_ to _say_ you are the shark or the whale."

"... _come on..."_

"Do you want to lose her?!"

"No!"

"Then you must make her believe and in great detail: what are you specifically, whale or shark? What _kind_ of whale or shark are you? How big are you? Everything. Convince her!"

Erin zoomed back over to Jess' side. "I am a shark now, Jess—a great white! I have rows of razor-sharp teeth and I'm fully grown! I haven't eaten in weeks—and I'm hungry for a giant spider!"

"...Then you must hurry. Or the spider might grow in size to best you..." Jess warned without fervor. "...The last piranha has been eaten..."

"I'm coming for it now, I'm a second away—I'm going to swallow it whole!"

"...It has increased in size—two-fold..."

"I don't care! I'm taking the biggest bite possible out of it! I'm ripping the bastard apart!!!"

"...It...cannot grow...you've..."

_Which part?!_ Dina mouthed with great thrust to Erin.

Erin elaborated, "I've bitten off a big part of the hind body—the back segment! I'm eating more of it! I'm so hungry I can't stop!"

"...It can't grow...it's leaking...ruptured...faltering...miseried..."

"I want it to suffer!"

"It is."

"Good! Now I'm done with the body—I'm eating the head!"

"...End its suffering...end our..."

"I'm done! I'm done eating its head! It's nothing but a bunch of floating and useless legs! It can't do anything to us now! Nothing!"

"...The legs..."

Erin and Dina stared raptly at Jess with such immense yet cautious hope in their eyes, expression, and posture. As if they were mentally trying to pull a small, helpless kitten from a building that could crumble at any second.

Jess gazed at nothing, as she had predominantly done throughout the whole preceding, no emotive reaction...

...As she evenly continued, "...They're...falling...falling...to the ocean floor...before they can reach the bottom, they are...becoming blots, less formed, changing color...breaking apart...now they're just rains of sand, falling to mix with the sandy surface of the ocean floor..."

Dina swallowed hard before she asked a second time, "...And everything was all right after that, Jess?"

"...Yes...everything was all right."

Dina blew out a breath she was barely aware she had been holding. She closed her eyes in relief of a taught anxiety.

"Is that it?" Erin asked with hope pushing her tone.

"For the first level, yes," Dina conceded, then addressed Jess. "Jessica?"

"Yes, Dina."

"You're feeling tired right now. You'd like very much to rest for an hour. After that we will revisit your life's past events once more."

"All right." And Jess' eyes became heavy and unfocused, her lids batted slowly. Then closed as she said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Jessica."

"Goodnight, baby," Erin chimed in.

"Night...mother..." Jess slurred as she fell under to sleep, a tiny smile of comfort forming her lips.

Erin turned to Dina, "The first level? How many more levels do we need to go through?"

Dina fissured another long breath—this one in trepidation. "Three more before we get to the core subconscious."

Erin's brow drew in and looked pained. "Why three?"

"Because...with each level we explore, we are tapping into a major developmental growth going backward in synaptic formations and temporal benchmarks."

"What?"

"She's had milestones in her mind's maturity, the last one developing from the ages of sixteen to eighteen. We just hit upon that level—and broke through, thank God. But now we have to travel back to her earlier spurts: twelve to fourteen, eight to ten, four to six—"

"Before we reach the basest level of age/brain development: zero to three; okay, I get it now."

Dina's eyes grew dark and intense as she grabbed Erin's and locked a firm stare on her. "And with each level, it is _going_ to become more and more dangerous and difficult for us to break through."

" _Why?"_ Erin asked in terror.

"Because the closer we come to the implanted suggestion, the more it will feel threatened...and the less that Jess' mental fortitude will be capable of helping you deal with it."

Erin looked away and uttered in a hushed and horrified tone, "Oh God..."

Chapter 35

Which direction...?

Dean was still no closer to finding out where the unscheduled extended trips beyond the medical supply facility were going to. It's not as if he could go out there to the Montana site and dig 360 degree trench in hopes of stumbling on the underground labs. He was likely to get himself arrested. Or worse.

What he needed, though he knew not if any such thing existed, was a radar device that could pick up on the signal waves the wasps inherently used to communicate. If he had this fancy "Doohickey-Space Age-Wondermajig" in his possession, finding the wasps would likely be a cinch...if it _were_ true that they were all held in one spot underground. Dean had come to that conclusion as well. Now that the details and files of the WI's had been compromised, the wasps would all be moved to where, it was probable, that only one man and a few select geneticists knew of—the subterranean laboratories where the wasps were spawned in the first place.

"But wait..." he blurted to himself as he bent over the laptop. "...The files...why wouldn't they not have...?"

He pulled out his cellphone and dialed 411 for the _Transistor_ number. It was given and dialed for him. And a man picked up.

" _Transistor,_ Thu speaking."

"Thu, this is Dean Belaski over at Ellison and Bauer. Can you transfer me over to Carrie Wells? She's in charge of the drones, probably on the assembly floor."

"Sure, one moment."

A few moments later, Carrie picked up the line. "Yes, Dean."

"Carrie, the files on the wasps—would they have the inherent, aaah, radar frequency that the wasps use to coordinate with each other?"

"They might. Why, do you think you have a general idea as to the WI's whereabouts?"

"I might, yeah. Do you guys think you could come up with a radar system based on their frequency within a day or so? I mean, we would only need one, if I'm right about my assumptions."

"We'll check the files and then see what we can jury rig ASAP. What's the general spot you're focusing on?"

"Winslow, Montana. The outer rim of a three mile radius around a medical supply facility—but _not_ the facility itself."

"Got it. Get back to you soon."

"Thanks."

And they hung up.

Chapter 36

Dina was dead-on in her assessment of delving further into the recesses of Jess' subconscious. The second session between Dina, Erin, and Jess was fraught with even more hellish and trying obstacles stemming from Pear-Paul's limbic tinkering.

The second bout involved recounting a cherished school dance that Jess attended when she was only twelve. It was a particularly banner moment in her pre-adolescent life in that it was the first dance she ever went to. The first she was invited to by a cute boy.

Peter Mosley had moved away to another state only three months after the dance, but during that momentous schools event, he had managed to sweep Jess off her feet.

Before the dance, Peter and Jess had barely acknowledged each other's existence, but both had secretly found one another attractive. And the upcoming Peach Festival Dance held at Pennington Middle School seemed like the perfect chance for smitten Peter to finally approach Jess.

Upon inviting her, she grinned a beaming yes and the date was set. Erin was just as excited as her little blossoming 'tweener and immediately went out to purchase the perfect dress to wear. Jess, of course, accompanied her and they—after some negotiating—finally found the piece with an appropriate skirt.

Bea was going to the dance with Pahti, and because of the age factor of the kids, both Bea and Jess' parents were chaperoning the event.

Dina and Jess went through the highlights of the colored and flashing lighted, music blaring occasion, including the embarrassing yet quickly resolved dilemma of Jess' complexion disaster.

She had a giant, honking mosquito bite, bruised and red, and right between her eyes. Jess was mortified—she didn't want Peter to see her like this, especially at such a "jumpin'" event like The Peach Fest. Erin and Bea had done their best to foundation-make-up the cursed facial blight, but nothing could mask it entirely—and the makeup appliance was too apparent anyway.

But both mother/chaperone and best friend told her to be brave and face her dance suitor regardless of the awkward blemish.

The two finally met up outside the gymnasium and Jess tried to stay in the shadows. But Peter got her face in the light eventually, and asked what was wrong. She shyly, stammeringly explained her situation—and was horrified when she found him reacting with a bit of chuckling.

But then he quickly disarmed the whole tension between them by saying that it wasn't so bad. And that she should take off the makeup coverage and realize that she was still very pretty.

They had gone into the dance arm in arm, Jess feeling morally supported yet still nervous as hell. Some didn't even comment and were simply glad to see Jess "The Jenius" get out and have fun. Others, of course, couldn't help but joke about the bite and the location of it, to boot. Yet Peter either blew them off or defended her with verbal taunting or ribbing of his own.

And this was the point where Jess was asked again by Dina if everything was all right.

The hypnotized girl was about to respond when she suddenly announced that things were changing. Certain objects were doing feats that were quite impossible in true reality.

In her mind's eye, Jess witnessed an "exit" sign—one with a light inside filtering through red letters of EXIT—was morphing, twisting, becoming something frightening. The letters were merging and reshaping into symmetrical ellipticals of glowing crimson—eyes of demon's sight.

The raftered gym lights, which had been turned off for the dance, were also moving by themselves, changing. Three of the large and upended bowl-shape lights melded with each other, eventually forming the two-segmented body mass of Janice. The networking array of support power cable pipes reworked themselves to jut from the body, becoming the crooked and glinting legs of the great spider. The rest of the bowled lights reformed and recolored themselves to resemble enlargened flying insects. Cray paper streamers were sucked upwards to serve as the recombinant for the membranous and wicked wings.

And throughout this, the doors of the gym were becoming seamless and simply more of the walls of the structure. The doorknobs fell off and clanked to the floor. Silvery and bent-twice legs sprouted and extended from the bulbous, metallic objects. They began to skitter and seek out children, teachers, chaperoning parents, administrative staff—anyone present.

And as before, the people became aware of these unholy creatures much too late to do anything about it. Rapidly, people were being attacked, poisoned, pierced, eaten. Jess was entranced by her narrative, almost in awe of it in as much as she was terrified. Real emotion had been seeping out from her tone now, not just a flat tone of descriptives. It was frightening for the two elder women to watch.

And yet again, the reformed objects slaughtered the people around Jess and Erin before focusing on the two, mother and daughter—the main course for the feast, as Dina and Erin surmised.

And once more, Erin had to get inventive with a solution—with less assistance from a less emotionally controlled Jess. And more creeping things to annihilate.

And yet again, the mother asked Dina to coach her in a solution. The experienced hypnotist told her to fight fire with fire. If Jess' subconscious was extracting from the selected memory environment, then Erin must do likewise. "But to create what?" Erin asked desperately. A gun, a _big_ gun, Dina implored, something that could rapidfire and take out multiple targets! Erin remembered the massive "pipe-like" gun from some of the action movies of her younger years, and instructed Jess to mind-form the frightening weapon. It would be built and morphed from cylindrical strobe and color lights that decked the gym. Once it had been fully imagined, Erin ordered her daughter to have the thing go berserk on the winged insects and the spider.

In Jess' dancehall gym of a now skewed memory, the cannoned and fattened barrel of the makeshift gun wide-swept the area side to side and repeatedly, spraying insane rounds of bullet fire. Raging short spears of flame from the muzzle signaled each split-second shot. Flyers, no matter how freakishly enlargened, were ripped and torn into wretched and splattered pieces of falling carcass.

The insects had been easier to cut down—they were in midair and clearly spotted. But the spider was hiding, masking itself behind a pile of limp and gutted corpses. With the gun's maddening spray of shredder bullets, Erin had the weapon directed to mow through the bodies to get to the elusive spider. It took a minute but the tiny missiles finally broke up the deadened and pulped remains to start piercing the oily shell of the spider's bodily structures. The thing squealed prolongingly.

"Mommy, stop, I..." Jess had pleaded with emotion, hesitation.

But mommy wouldn't stop, even when Jess' breathing became strained and catching. She tore the spider apart with angry rains of a thousand bullets per minute.

The spider was dead in just a few of those minutes.

But the tiny spiders—the "knob" spiders escaped the firepower lashings unscathed and unnoticed—until they had predominantly reached the feet of Jess and Erin. By then it was too late and they had speedily crawled up their bodies to begin burrowing frenziedly into Erin and Jess' abdomens. Two more had simultaneously scaled their backsides and wanted to submerge themselves frantically into the girls' lower spines.

"Mother, they're beautiful, do I—?"

But mother ragedly commanded to take both hands and yank the little bastards out— _don't_ let them dig into you! So both Erin and Jess had done so, throwing the "beautiful" things to the floors and stomping on them, crushing them to metallic mush.

But now both were bleeding generously from their bellies and leaking spinal fluid from their lumbars.

They had carried each other to a car, got in, and drove hysterically to a hospital—where they were treated just in time.

And in the lower level of Jess' subconscious, Jess had revealed to the room—the _real_ room around her—that everything was all right.

Jess was commanded to take an hour nap.

And Erin burst into tears in Dina's arms.

Chapter 37

"That's it. We're out of time," Carrie announced to the workers on the _Transistor_ assembly line. "Finish up on the last one and let's get 'em active."

"Okay," responded the foreman in a professional tone.

The placement of the measured and precisioned part was complete and the workers stepped away to reveal to Carrie and her tech crew the full compliment of drones—eight in all.

Carrie turned to Justin and asked, "Where are we with the radar device?"

Justin replied, "Just talked with Carson. He says they're bringing it now."

" _They're?"_

"Yeah, he _and_ that Andre guy both worked on it. I guess our hitman is also a bit of a tech boy himself. Who knew. Oh, here they come..."

Carrie whipped around to see Carson and Andre approach, Carson carrying the semi-orbed and recently soldered together wasp radar tracker.

"Here it is," Carson announced as he got close enough to hand the thing to Carrie.

She took it and asked, "This will find 'em then?"

"It should. Also the flatted side is highly magnetic to the alloy we used for the drones, so it should stay put through low range flight."

"Terrific—now all we have to do is make sure the wasps our talking to each other when our drones arrive in the general area."

"Well, Andre here has a theory about that."

"Oh?"

Andre spoke up. "Ah yeah, if you're drones enter the area of the labs, it's most likely that a proximity alarm would go off. And if that happens, it just might trigger the wasps to talk to each other. You know: 'What's going on, are we in danger?' and that sort of thing."

"That's a _big_ if, guys," Carrie warned.

"We know," Carson agreed, "That's why we also installed a wave transmitter that can send out a wasp signal. It'd most likely be gibberish to them, but it still could get them talking."

Carrie breathed a hesitant breath then said, "All right, good enough at this point. Strap it to a drone and let's turn 'em on. Time is very short."

Chapter 38

Pahti was screaming like he had never done before in his entire conscious life. Screaming as if his body had suffered a travelling razor blade through his skull—though his brain was uninjured and complete. Sticks and stones might break bones, but words truly _did_ hurt. Pahti now knew this first hand.

The boy's agony subsided finally and he snap-slumped his head forward, his mouth opened and slack with exhaustion. He breathed with terrible hoarseness.

Standing in front of him in a calm and collected demeanor, Vikt said smoothly, "Oh my friend, why do you persist? Don't you know that it can only get worse from here, dear boy. I mean...can you imagine how much more terrifying it will be for your mind to fathom that not only will it experience the miseries that it has, but very soon the body _will_ be damaged, severed, mutilated. To know that your physicality will be forever altered...and considered freakish by everyone you come in contact with...

"But if you calm yourself enough to allow me to do my work, then I can make things much more livable for you when they begin to order me to maim. Instead of a whole hand, perhaps we just take a finger...the pinky, a predominantly useless digit if you think of it...And you will feel nothing of the pain, for I would condition your mind to be shielded from such nerve transmission.

"Hm? What would we think?"

His head still lulled forth, his loosened mouth still panting, Pahti tried, "I...I will...I will...NEVER let you...! I will NEVER!" And his bated breaths whistled out in desperation, heaviness.

"Instructive workroom atmosphere familiarize," Vikt intonated with the proper effectiveness.

And the hollering misery instantly raged on.

Chapter 39

Dina and Erin were at it once again, sending Jess back into her mental past. Now it was time to explore the neural compartment that comprised Jess' initial encounter with Bea.

Once more, Dina started things off. "Jessie, I want to go to the time when you and Pahti first met the girl who would eventually become your surrogate sister, Beatrice Hemner."

Calmly, Jess answered, "All right."

"You and Pahti were playing on the jungle bars when you noticed a girl sitting on the swings, crying."

"Yes."

"You and he went over to her and asked what was wrong. She told you that it was her sister who excluded her from—"

"What is that?"

Oh no, thought Dina and Erin in unison, it's happening a lot quicker this time—the emergence of the suggestion's defenders; the manifestations of those damn exoskeletal nightmares....

Dina knew what was coming, but decided to ask anyway, "What is what, Jessie?"

"The two sea-saw horses behind the swings, across the way...they're bending toward each other; one of them is growing larger...they're bending so much that now they are touching; the metal springs holding them down are unspiraling, splitting into fours...The horses are transforming, the larger one losing all texture, smoothing out, rounding..."

"And the smaller is becoming like a spider's head, isn't it, Jessie?"

"Yes, the entire formation is turning a glinting, marvelous black..."

"Can the other two see what is happening, Jessie?"

"No. Bea is facing us, and Pahti is focused on Bea—no, wait, he finally noticed what is happening. He is shocked and unbelieving of what he is seeing...he warns Bea to turn around quick, she doesn't believe him that she should do it—"

"Then you should warn her too—"

"And now, the swing next to Bea is detaching from the top bar; the chains are...flattening, expanding wildly, becoming translucent, membranous...wings...The seat has morphed into the body of an insect...Bea and Pahti are frightened, they're running away..."

"But you're not running, are you, Jessie? You're too fascinated, aren't you?"

"Yes...they're so magnificent..."

"Are they coming toward you?"

"No, they're racing after Bea and Pahti, they will have them in seconds..."

"You won't help?"

"What can I do? They're so large and powerful...and beautiful..."

"But they will kill your friends, people you care about."

"...Don't know them that well..."

That's right, Dina reminded herself, at this point in her memory time frame, Jess didn't know either friend well enough to be distracted enough to help.

And the creatures were too much of a semblance of her core's protection. A comfort even.

Dina turned to Erin wide-eyed and whispered, "Quickly, invent something!"

But Erin was not at a loss this time—she resolved herself to be "Johnny on the spot" with solutions...

To her daughter she barked, "Jessie! The bar frame of the swings is breaking apart at the hinges! The ends are sharpening, and their bars are now spears hurdling themselves at the flying insects and the spider—at incredible speed! They will reach the creatures and stab them _deep_ before Bea or Pahti can be harmed!"

While they waited for a response, Dina quickly whispered to Erin, "Excellent."

"Thanks—hope it works," Erin whispered back with anxious intensity.

Jess revealed, "...The bugs...have been stabbed..." And a slight twitch of lament touched her brow.

Erin plowed ahead with, "The spears are coming out and immediately stabbing the bugs over and over again! The spears will kill them, Jessie! They will _die_ before they can do any harm to anyone!"

"...They're in such pain..."

" _Good!_ They must suffer and die, Jessie!"

"...But...they...protect..."

" _Protect?!_ Protect _who?!_ The evil bastards at Pear-Paul?! Of course they do, Jessie! They're filth, all of them! Filth in fancy suits behind fancy desks! And you are _not_ _them!_ Don't admire these heartless insects! _Don't!"_

"...But..." And Jessie's face began to wrinkle and grimace with emotional upheaval, tears began to shimmer her eyes. "...but—"

"But _what?!"_

"...They protect...they protect...you..." Jess collapsed into sobbing.

Erin and Dina looked at each other in stark confusion.

But soon, Dina offered whisperingly, "Uh, I think she might be becoming more aware of the root suggestion and how it links to you. It's possible that these manifestations actually _would_ protect you in her mind—but I don't think that's entirely it. Something else is there driving her."

"But _what?"_

"We won't know for sure until we reach the core of her subconscious."

"Dammit, I had a feeling you were going to say something like that—"

Jess spoke back up, "The spears...they're—"

"NO!" Erin roared curtly, "They're stabbing and stabbing, they are not changing into anything else! You hear me?!"

"...Yes, mother," Jess cried on.

"The spider and the flying bugs will die in seconds, Jessie, in seconds!"

"...Okay..." Her sobs increased into convulsive and whistled breaths. "...But can't we—?"

"NO!!! In the next second, they are DEAD!!! Say it!!!"

"...In the next sec-ond, they are—they are dead—"

"I have KILLED THEM—my spears have ENDED them!!!"

"...You've—you've killed them..." Jess whined, blubbering in resignation, feeling no choice but to fall headlong into an emotional pit of despair.

Dina went to Erin's ear and whispered, "Now comfort her, make her feel that everything is going to be okay. Show her all you feel for her."

Erin changed her tone to soothing, "Sweetie, Jessie baby..."

Between whines, Jess managed, "Yes?"

"Sweetie, it's all right, I'm here, mommy's here to make you feel better, okay? All right, baby? I'm here..."

"...Mommy...I'm so scared...for-for—"

"No, no, no, shhhhh, listen, listen...you trust me in all things, right?"

"...Y-yes..."

"You trust your mother always?"

"...Yes, mommy..."

"Then you believe me when I say that everything is all right, don't you?"

Dina did a quick thumbs-up and mouthed a silent but encouraging, "Good! Good!" to Erin.

Erin kept on with Jess, "...Honey? You believe me?"

"...I...believe you..."

"I want you to say it, baby. Say...everything is all right now."

"...Ev..."

"Say it, honey. If you trust me and I tell you it's all right, then say it, sweetlove."

"...Everything..."

Once again, Dina and Erin were mentally _and_ physically holding their breath, wide-eyed and hoping against hope that Jess would say the magic words—to finally break through once more.

"Yes? Baby...?" Erin pulled, "Say it..."

"Everything...is all right."

Immediately, Dina and Erin blew out loud breaths of released anxiety, both slumping lower in posture in the process.

Dina soothingly commanded Jess to go to sleep for a few hours. Then turned to Erin and said, "One more to go."

"Yeah," Erin corroborated with moroseness, "Then the real party starts."

Chapter 40

The drones soared over the Montana landscape, drenched in the cover of night. They were five miles out from the search zone and rapidly closing. Each one was heavily armed with mini-missiles and machine gun turrets.

The drone carrying the radar transponder geared toward wasp frequency had thus far picked up no insectoidal communication. But its makers, of course, were hoping that would change soon. They were, in fact, absolutely counting on it.

Otherwise the whole mission would be for nothing.

Two miles out.

One...

And the target area was reached. The eight drones began to fan out, racing off in different flight patterns to scan the ground coverage. The parameters of the search zone held predominantly hillish expanses, low-lying and spotted with foliage. Aside from the medical supply facility dead center of the zone, not much else signaled civilized life.

Which, of course, was what raised such a red flag, among other things, for Dean's exhaustive hack and search.

But the facility itself, as Dean had rationalized, was not the direct front for the wasp labs. It had to be a location three miles out.

If the drones could just find that specific spot...

A strike team from Ell-Bau was waiting in parked vehicles and a helicopter ten miles away from the supply compound. Ready to move in at the first sign of a wasp communication and pinpoint marker from the drone. Every agent was on mental alert, poised to move at an instant's notice.

No transmission thus far.

Chapter 41

Vikt turned away from the slumped over and chair strapped form of Pahti to answer his cell phone. "Yes, Mr. Jordan...Well, he's proven quite resilient so far. His love for his friend and his kind has resolved him. He will suffer greatly for them if necessary...That is my next step, sir. He is, in fact, passed out now. When he begins to stir, I will have a short window to try and break through to his mind. But I must stress that it will not be a concrete approach. He may catch on quick enough even in his semi-consciousness...It will be tried and if not successful, we'll begin the cutting and burning...You will be updated before that happens...Talk to you soon...Okay."

And he hung up.

Chapter 42

Still not a blasted peep from the wasps. And it was officially twenty-fours before the ultimatum was to be made. And the fate of two was to be decided.

The Ell-Bau strike team knew they had to act soon if Bauer's master plan was to see fruition. So it was decided that the drones should begin a skimming rotation of the outskirts of the three mile radius. At such a low level of flight, it might be possible to blow away the top soil of the sandy surface—and expose the entranceway to the hidden labs. They programmed the drones to perform the rounded path, one after the other. Each blowing more top soil off with subsequent skims. If the hatch couldn't be found, then they would have to start telling the drones to spiral inward with their dust-offs. Perhaps the three-mile trip was two miles out and a mile back— _or_ a mile out and two miles back! The Pear-Pauls were clever in covering their tracks, the Ell-Bau knew. They were prepared for the fact that the drones and their desperate search might be a total waste of time and resources.

And wouldn't Stanford and his power-bent cronies just love that.

Chapter 43

"Jessie?"

"Yes, Dina."

"I want to take you back to the time of your fifth birthday party."

"Okay."

"What was so special about this party, Jessie?"

"It was a movie theatre party. My parents had rented an entire theatre auditorium so that all our friends and family could see a movie and have food."

"What else was special about this event, Jessie?"

"It was the first time I met one of my own kind."

"That's right. And what was his name?"

"Uyen."

"And how did it come to be that you met him, why was he at your party?"

"His mother worked with my stepfather, and he invited them so that we could help fill the theatre."

"And so now, bring us into that first meeting with a chosen. It's happening now, Jessie—tell us about it."

"My father introduces me to him. And right away I feel that he and I should get close together to talk. He feels so warm and friendly in my mind, and we haven't said anything to each other yet. He smiles at me as if he's known me a long time. When we start talking, we don't say aloud that we have such a big connection; we just go right into relating to our condition. We talk about how we're both in advanced classes—but neither of us wants to jump ahead in front of our friends. We don't have everything in common, but it doesn't matter. Our pull to each other is strong and fulfilling. We..."

Uh-oh...

"Yes, Jessie...?"

"...The movie is starting, the lights are going down...the exit doors are closing...They weren't...the movie's not supposed to go on yet..."

"...What movie is playing, Jessie?"

"...It's a...it's a preview...a coming attraction..."

"What's it about, Jessie? Tell me..."

"...It's...about two companies...two places of work that fight against each other...It's set in the 1950's; every man wears a hat, every woman wears a dress...their hair is neat and perfect...and everyone speaks so quickly and politely...even when they threaten or scare each other..."

Dina's eyes narrowed under a crinkled brow as she fast turned to Erin.

Erin responded to the concerned, confused look with, "Those are her favorite movies, the ones from the fifties," in a hushed voice.

They both snap refocused on Jess as she narrated on, "...The boss of one company is talking to a mad scientist...he has created monsters..."

"What monsters, Jessie? What kind of monsters?" Dina prodded again.

"...The creeping, crawling, bug-like kind...Huge, freakishly huge...winged...fangs and stingers..."

"How many, Jessie?"

"...Lots, hundreds..."

Dina and Erin shared looks of horror.

Hundreds...

"What is happening now, Jessie?"

"...The boss is ordering the doctor to unleash the monsters upon the company they hate...The beasts are crawling and flying through the busy city, terrorizing everyone in sight...They're heading for the enemy company, just a few blocks down...Cut to they're attacking everyone in the building, men and women both...They're stabbing them, biting them, ripping them apart...They're screaming so loud...Cut to the monsters leaving the building, ready to attack the rest of the city..."

"What are the people in the theatre doing, Jessie?"

"Staring at the screen, eyes popping, mouths open...they're frozen, not moving..."

"What about Uyen?"

"The same."

"What now on the screen, Jessie?"

"...Now there are words coming at us...they say, 'The Terror That Couldn't Be Tamed!' and 'An Evil So Great, It's As If Hell Opened Up! And Unleashed The Demons Of Destruction!!!' and 'Now In Spine-tingling, Mind-crashing 3-D And Feel-O-Round!'...And a winged creature is flying straight at the screen right behind the words...It has flown out of the screen and is now flying around the theatre...It is circling...looking for a human meal..."

Dina flashed a turn to stare intensely at Erin— _you're on!_

And Erin sprung into action: "Jessie, baby, listen to me."

"Yes, mommy..."

"On the theatre's ceiling there are air fans that are like plane propellers. You know what those are."

"...Yes..."

"One of those fans is breaking off from the ceiling and is floating in the air! It is spinning faster now, spinning _real_ fast—just like a helicopter's would!"

"...It's going real fast..."

"Now it's flying, baby! It's flying right toward the winged creature! It's going to cut it to pieces! It's happening now! Say it with me! It's happening now!"

"...It's happening now...but the bug is flying away from it—"

"It can't! The spinning fan is flying too fast for the bug to escape! It's cutting up the bug! _Say_ it's cutting up the b—!"

"It's cutting up the bug...it's guts are spilling out...stuff is splashing out all over the place...the bug is falling...it's hit the seats below..." And Jess began to cry, her face crumpling. "...I don't feel right...Mommy, _why...?"_

"Don't worry, honey, just keep doing what mommy says—!"

"More bugs are coming out of the movie, flying around..."

"Then the other fans are breaking free from the ceiling! And they're going after them!"

"...People are screaming...running ar—" Jess cried on, but her mother intervened.

"Don't worry about them! The _fans_ are _cutting up_ the flying bugs, Jessie!"

"...But _why?_ They're so beautif—"

"They're ugly, Jessie! They're hideous monsters! You will trust me on this, as you trust me in all things! Remember?!"

"...Y...ye...yes..." But Jess bawled even harder. "...Many, many more flying bugs are coming out..."

"The fans are whipping _all_ around the theatre, dicing the bugs up, mowing them down, Jessie!"

"...No..."

"What?! What do you mean, _no?!"_

"...No, mommy...they're my friends, and they're _beautiful!"_

"But I told you they were ugly! And it's in me that you trust! Now obey me, obey your mother!"

"...But...you don't under _stand!"_

"I understand that you are being uncooperative! Do you want to go to sleep without stories?!"

" _No,_ but...The fans aren't spinning quickly anymore...in fact, they are stopping altogether..."

"Speed them back up—!"

"They're falling...crashing to the ground...one has hit Uyen, opening up his head, blood is coming out...I think he's dying...more and more bugs are coming from the screen..."

Erin turned to Dina with desperate eyes.

"What else can you use in the theatre, Erin?" Dina tensely asked in a hushed voice.

"Um...there were these light bulb designs on the side walls; in the shapes of shooting stars and spirals."

"Use those," Dina mentioned quickly. "Like as to electrocute or set the bugs on fire!"

"But that might set the whole place on fire in her mind—"

"What else have you got to work with then...?"

Erin thought frantically for a split second, then turned back to Jess. "Honey, sweetie, listen to me..."

"...people are being stung by the dozens..." Jess described with less tears. "...some are being torn ap—"

" _Listen!_ The lightbulb designs on the walls—the bulbs are coming off the walls and are flying very fast to crash into the bugs!"

"No—"

" _Yes! They are!"_

" _No!"_

"Dammit, Jessie, they are! They're electrocuting and even setting the bugs on _fire!"_

" _No!_ I won't let it happen! It's not happening!"

"It _is!_ Obey me!"

"You don't get it! You don't under _stand,_ they're...they're—"

" _What_ don't I understand, Jessie! Explain it to me! You can't let these people _die_ , Jessie! They're your friends and family, they mean the world to you—to _us!"_

"No! they're the ones trying to... _to..."_ Jess' face grimaced horribly again. Then she explained once more, "...So many flying bugs are swarming into the theatre from the movie...It's not stopping for even a second..."

"The lightbulbs are—!" Erin tried in irrational desperation.

"Electrocuting and setting people on fire, I see it, I see it...they will be stopped, killed..."

And now Erin was distilling her own tears, her voice becoming hysteric as she howled, "Jessieeeeee!"

"...The theatre is on fire..." Jessie commented with a look of rapt fascination in her eyes. "...And the flyers are glowing from it..."

Erin couldn't simply sit at Jessie's bedside anymore. She lunged at her entranced daughter and rapidly shook her. "Jessie! Stop this! Why! WHYYY?!"

"...For you..."

And suddenly, something quite crucial snapped into place in Dina's mind. In every vital trip into Jess' mindscape, the creatures, the bugs—they had always attacked the other people first. But never at anytime did they try to kill Jessie or Erin. True, the mutant doorknobs did do some bodily harm—but this was not ultimately life threatening. It was just the subconscious warning: don't explore any further down—no more breakthroughs—we mean it!

And instantly, Dina knew what to do...

"Erin, stop..."

The frantic mother whipped her head about to wide-eye Dina, "What?!"

"Stop, let it go, let it happen."

"What— _why?!"_

"Because then, in her mind—and very soon—everything will be all right..."

A look of incredulous disbelief whiplashed Erin's expression as she replied, "You must be mad—!"

"Yes! At this level we must be mad, insane, almost totally irrational! At the subconscious core, irrational wants and needs are rampant and dominant! Let it _happen!"_

"...The theatre is burning, falling down..." Jess droned in awe.

Erin's face was frenzied with conflict, wildly considering what Dina had suggested, yet simultaneously railing against it in her gut instinct.

"...People are being eaten, stung and eaten...The roof is coming down...The fire is growing, lovely flames..."

"Jess—" Erin started in a mental hiccup of last ditch desperation, before halting herself and looking viciously reproachful at Dina.

_Trust me,_ Dina mouthed with fervor at Erin.

Erin drew in a deep, stuttering breath, let it out in the same jittery fashion. Then she went back to her daughter. "...Jess, I'm with you, right next to you..." She blinked slowly in preparation for the atrocious words she would now utter, "...The sight is...beautiful, isn't it?"

"...Yes, it is...The bugs glow beautifully from the flames in the room..."

"Too bad about our friends and family..."

"...I'm...sorry for them...but they can't have us..."

"That's right, they can't have us. It's you and me and we're together."

"...Yes...us, and our protectors..."

_Us and our_ protectors?! Erin thought with revulsion and terror. _Those sickening, evil creatures?!_

But she said on despite her true feelings, "Yes, baby, us and our protectors."

"...Everyone is dead now...and the room is crumbling...giving way to a blackness...The flyers are coming for us..."

"They're our protectors, aren't they," Erin said to placate her daughter's regressed mentality. The conflicted mother blinked with a mountain of tension, fear. "They'll stop the fire from getting us..."

"...Yes...they're surrounding us, coming closer and closer...blocking out everything and everyone...everything except the middle of the movie screen...The film is still going...and far away, crawling over a street full of bloody and eaten bodies...a spider walks...It's getting closer...it's moving out...out of the screen...becoming real...and so big...It's still coming toward us...getting huger and huger...The flying ones are knitting together...like a family holding hands...And the spider coming and coming...The bugs' wings are melting into each other..." And then a deep smile of awe touched her face as she announced, "The spider...the black, black spider...has spread itself all around us, darkening all light from us...and we...are safe..."

"...And...everything...is all right?"

Jess stared off into nowhere, her face twitching with perverse grins and widening lids. "...Janice is here..."

Erin swallowed hard, expecting the worst...and not feeling too ultra keen on hearing that the spider actually had a name. She asked again, "And everything is all right?"

"...Yes...everything is all right."

And from the blackened void that Jessie envisioned in the deep recesses of her mind, a new dot of light appeared. She described as much to Erin and Dina. The light expanded, as if it was travelling at a steady pace directly toward Jess' mindsight. Again, she narrated, and kept on with it as the brightened and rectangular film screen engulfed her vision.

And like a different scene being fade-transposed onto the white light, a long hallway appeared, defining itself further with a door in the distance, featured on the left hand wall.

As Jess' mind travelled closer and closer, her speech became less articulate and varied. It was more and more difficult for her to describe what was happening. Until now she could only utter monosyllabic words to keep Erin and Dina informed.

"What's happening to her?" Erin raptly whispered to Dina.

"She's regressing to the core of her subconscious. Stay with her, try to keep her describing as best she can what's happening. We can't stop or break now, we have to go on. This is where the suggestion was implanted; we have to know exactly how it was done and how to countermand it. _This_ is the most crucial part, Erin. You must get it out of her."

Erin nodded quickly then turned to Jessie. "Honey, baby, you said we're at the door?"

Jess tried, "Doo-ah...yeth..." _Door, yes._

"What's behind the door, honey? Is it opened or closed?"

"...No open..."

"Then we're going to open the door, honey."

"...'Kay..."

"We've opened it...what do you see— _who_ do you see?"

"...Men..."

"What men? Tell me their names, please, baby."

"...Stan-fah..."

Stanford, both Erin and Dina surmised.

"...Olvee-uh..." Jess went on. Oliver.

"...Veek..."

Who? Dina and Erin asked themselves with crinkled brows.

"...Dessie...me...in think..."

"... In think?" Erin asked, grimacing slightly. "Oh...wait—in tank, air tank!"

"...Yeth..."

"You're in the air tank. And they're talking to you?"

"...Yeth..."

"What are they saying, Jessie? Tell me, please."

"...Ree-ax...Dessie...ree-ax..."

"They're telling you to relax."

"...Uh huh..."

"Then what?"

"...Veek got Cat-Cat...he gib me Cat-Cat...Mama...Thee thoon...Ree-ax...thee mama thoon...Ree-ax...Alpa Go-bee-all...Ree-ax...Alpa Go-bee-all..."

Again, Erin threw a horridly confused stare at Dina.

Who, in turn, quickly explained whisperingly, "They're priming her—uh, lemme see, this-this phrase, 'Alpa go-bee-all'—what does it sound like to you? Alpa is maybe Alpha—since it's easier for her to say the p-sound instead of f-sound. But the second..."

Erin briskly offered, "Guh instead of juh?"

" _Yes!_ And buh instead of vuh!"

"...Alpha Jovial..."

"That's the activation phrase! They'll keep drumming it into her!"

"Can we stop it somehow?" Erin asked desperately.

"Possibly—if we can get from her the _de_ activation phrase. She was herself for seventeen years, so it stands to reason one exists."

They turned their attention back to Jess as she narrated on in basic speech.

"...Do foh...Peah Pa...Ree-ax...Alpa go-bee-all...do foh...Peah Pa...o-beyyyy Peah Pa...o-beyyy Stan-fah...an mama...no hurt—"

"Oh my God..." Erin whispered in horror, her eyes widened.

"...O-beyyyy...an mama...no burn-uh...Alpa go-bee-all...o-beyyy...an...mama...sape..."

Mama safe.

"...Those...sick bastards..." Erin uttered in mild shock. "...They used _me_ to make her do those things...to kill those people..."

"...No mm...no...e-mem-bah..."

"What is this—?" Erin asked Dina, but was cut off...

...As the hypnotist blurted, "Wait, wait..."

"...Stan-fah say...no e-mem-bah...Gan-ah-ar-y...kall-dun..."

_Ganahary kalldun?_ Dina and Erin asked with blaring confusion in their heads.

And they quickly turned to each other in manic whispers to try and decipher the phrase.

"Okay, okay—" Dina whipped out, "Ganahary, ganahary; g-sound for j-sound again?"

"If that's true," Erin tried, "Then it's janahary— _January?!"_

"Good possibility! Let's keep January for now! But kalldun... _called on?"_

"I guess..." Erin replied with total uncertainty.

"In that case, is it three words or two?"

Erin shrugged joltingly, loss of an answer owning her face.

"Kalldun...kalldun...Damn it, what is it, I don't think it would be three words..."

"I think you're right; she said it like kall...dun, so maybe it isn't called on, but a word like, uh...uh— _oh_ , maybe it's D for Z: calzone?—no, that's stupid, it wouldn't be January calzone, would it?" Erin bunched her face up in uncomfortable embarrassment.

"I don't think so. If you consider calzone, then she most likely would have dropped the l-sound to—"

"To get to the Z or S sound in, right, right..."

" _But..._ to get to all the sounds in kalldun...would she—?"

"Drop another letter sound?!"

"Right! But what? Think, think, think..."

"Um...um... _oh crap,_ I can't think of it!"

Feeling stumped herself, Dina blurted with some ironic levity, "Oh _cap,_ as Jess might say it right now."

Unexpectedly, Erin burst a small laugh despite her near manic and hysterical state—but then her face was hit with a stark and electrifying realization.

Right as Dina's was bombarded with the same. "...Drop the R...!"

"Right after the D?!"

"Caldron— _cauldron!"_ Dina whistled out.

"Let's try it..." And Erin snappingly turned to Jess.

But Dina halted her with a grab to Erin's arm. "Wait! You'll have to do the activation phrase first!"

"Why?"

"To reinforce along with saying it that _you_ will be okay regardless of whether Pear-Paul or Stanford orders her to do something!"

"...Right, right, right, okay...here we go..." And Erin drew in a nervous and excited breath, let it out, and leaned toward her daughter to face her.

Jess was still muddling through utterings of "ganahry kalldun...no emembah"—which was clear to both Dina and Erin as Jess being commanded to "not remember" what she was subconsciously being programmed to do.

Erin's stare locked on Jess' unfocused and heavy-lidded eyes and said, "Jessie...relax...alpha jovial...relax...Pear-Paul...Stanford...they lied to you, baby...I am not in danger, your mother will not be harmed...Relax...Alpha jovial...If you do not do what Pearson and Paul and Stanford want you to do...I will _not_ be hurt...They _lied_ to you, Jessie...Alpha jovial...They lie..." And then Erin grabbed Jess by the upper arms and attempted to force her to look directly at her, "...Look at me, _look_ at _me_ , Jessie...Alpha jovial...I am _okay no matter what..._ Pear-Paul and Stanford _lie_...Alpha jovial...Do you _believe_ me? Do you trust me?"

Jess was still slack-eyed, but a tiny hint of ocular focus appeared to be affecting her vision as she slowly replied, "...Alpa...go-bee-all..."

_Pleeease,_ Jessie, Erin wrenched a mental plea at her hazed and semi-conscious daughter.

"...Uh...huh..."

"Jessie! You believe me?! You believe mommy?!" Erin almost shouted.

"...Uh huh...no lie...mama...no lie..."

"You never have to do anything for Stanford or Pear-Paul ever again, _okay?"_

"...'Kay."

"And everything's all right," whispered Dina for Erin to repeat to Jess.

"And everything's all right...okay, baby?"

"...'Kay."

Then Dina pulled Erin aside rather excitedly and whispered, _"Erin,_ I think we've done it!"

"Oh God, please tell me it's true," Erin whispered back desperately.

"Now listen, there's one last thing that we need to be concerned about."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"There is something I need to tell you: when you give her the deactivation phrase— _if,_ indeed, it is the right phrase—then it is possible that all levels of her consciousness will return to normal. But she will quite conceivably remember everything that she has done—either over time or very rapidly. If it's rapidly, she could have some sort of, uh-uh like mental episode or a violent seizure.

"Outside is a medical team ready to go in case this should occur."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?!"

"I felt you had enough to deal with just getting her to this point."

Erin spit a frustrated breath. "I wish people would stop trying to withhold things from me—"

"Worry about your gripes later, she's still stuck in this state and we can't keep her here forever. We have to act now."

"Why? Is there something _else_ you're not telling m—?"

" _Erin."_

"All right, all right..." And Erin once again turned back to her semi-lucid daughter. "Jessie?"

"...Yeth?" Jess replied.

Erin took a huge, bracing breath, let it out jitteringly. "...January cauldron..."

Jess lay there in her bed with her mother and Dina close at her side, the girl's eyes vacant for a brief moment.

But then a fluttering came to her lids, and her face seemed to be undergoing repeated minor joltings—as if she were having stroke after stroke of instant epiphanies.

Then her eyes began to dart all about the room...

Erin and Dina studied Jess with tension and unblinking stares...

"...Jess?" Erin tried with nervous hope.

And suddenly, a stark look of terror and revulsion slammed Jess' face.

She intensely constricted, a sharp and whistled intake of air was attempted by her lungs.

"Jessie?!" Erin shrieked in pure dread. Her hands abruptly shot up with the fingers taughtly spread apart, as if trying to stabilize a falling baby.

Dina quickly rose to her feet and prepared her mouth to shout.

Jess then convulsed stunted and violent breaths of respiratory chaos. Her eyes bulged at first, but soon began to roll up white.

And it was at this point that Dina exploded, "CODE BLUE!"

Chapter 44

The drones circled and circled, wind-blowing the dirted, sandy surfaced of the three mile radius outskirts.

Carson had relayed the instructions for the mechanical flyers to now perform counter-directional circling—in hopes that one drone's unearthing might yield a visual track of a ground hatch by an opposing flight of another drone.

Although four drones flew in one directional curve and the other four rounded in the opposite, none were in danger of colliding, for Carson had meticulously programmed them to avoid each other when in close proximity.

The circular sweeps had been running for the past eight hours, and a good trench of displaced earth had formed on the radius outskirt—but still no sign of the hatch was found.

The tech crew was beginning to worry. Perhaps Dean's suspicions of this site were way off. And it was Justin who felt that the medical supply facility may be the answer—that it was nothing more than a front in itself. And the drones should be investigating the massive building. "It might prove more fruitful than what we're having them do now," Justin argued. And others including Carrie were beginning to mentally agree.

"We have only seven more hours, folks," Andre reminded. Seven more until the three-day limit was met.

And Pahti would become physically altered, maimed, burned.

But if Bauer's plan could possibly come to fruition, none of that would happen—and both Pahti and Jess would be back safe and sound.

Seven hours. And counting.

And everyone—even Andre and Aly—was feeling the pressure.

Seven hours...seven short hou—

"Hold up! I think I've got something!" Carson blasted out as he checked his computer tablet's video monitor. It was showing what a particular drone's camera eye was seeing.

The others rushed to crowd over Carson, huddling his shoulders to get a view of what caused his outburst.

"That could just be a huge smooth rock," Carrie said, "It's not the best transmission of video there..."

"Only one way to know for sure though."

"Right. Call all the other drones to that spot for a serious dust off."

Carson programmed the flyers to do so right through his tablet.

And at the Montana location, the other seven drones raced to the spot of the possible sighting, and began a congregation of dirt blowing.

And it wasn't long before the object encrusted in the dry soil became less submerged, and more prominently visible.

And eventually the drones' handiwork exposed the hardened, predominantly smooth surface for what it truly was.

A fully formed rectangular hatch.

A doorway to what was hoped to be the secret labs funded and realized by Stanford Jordan.

Where, it was also fervently hoped, every last one of the WI's were held.

And back at the plant, Carrie made the call to the strike team. "Team leader, do you have the visual we do?"

"Yes, we do," responded the team leader onsite in Montana. "Moving into position now, copy?"

"I copy, please be careful."

"Will do. Over and out."

Chapter 45

Pahti had left the world.

The waking world at least. His mind and body could only take so much of Vikt's verbal torturing before shock kicked in and shut him down for a while.

Vikt knew this would happen; in fact, it was roughly right on schedule. From the specialist's experience, he knew that it was approximately a four to five hours session that would bring the subject to eventual overload. And then it was lights out for another four to six hours before the subject was ready to go again.

Stanford knew this as well, and called to check in on Vikt's progress.

"Where are we at?" the VP asked.

"I regret to inform you," Vikt responded, "that he is still resistant. I fear he is resolved to suffer anything to prevent further harm to his kind."

"Revive him as soon as possible, and then go to work again."

"Yes, sir. Do you really think they'll make the trade?"

"I think so. After they start receiving evidence of his physical torture, I think they will."

"You realize, of course, that they may have converted her back by now."

"Then you'll have some interesting work ahead of you, won't you?"

"Yes, indeed," and Vikt smiled, his eyes full of possibilities.

Chapter 46

"Fire in the hole!" the team leader shouted from a safe distance away from the unearthed hatch.

His team was beside him as he pressed the remote for the C-4 explosives now pasted to the hatch's locked handle.

The resulting explosion was immense, deafening.

And effective, the hatch was perforated in its locking mechanism, and the thing was now easily opened, though smoky as hell. But by the time the team reached the damaged door, the noxious haze had cleared enough for them to see what to do next.

The team leader ordered, "Six and Seven, open 'er up; we'll cover you."

The team members designated Six and Seven slung their rifles over their shoulders and reached for hoisting grabholds of the partially gouged hatch. The rest covered them with their weapons poised for any sign of enemy movement—human or otherwise.

The hatch was lifted up and swung to its side as far as the hinges would allow, and the whole of the group now tensed their rifle aims down the foggy hole in the ground.

Still no movement from opposing forces, above or below.

The leader ordered them down and into the labs—now no longer a secret location.

Chapter 47

The medical team had worked on Jess frantically, desperately for a good eight minutes before successfully returning her vitals to a normal state. She was alive—but still unconscious, comatose; now sharing space in the same mental black hole Ellison had been trapped in for the last few weeks.

Jess' entire family—as well as Mill—were huddle around her catatonic form—still in the same bed but no longer strapped to it. None of them planned to budge from this room for any reason.

Pahti's parents, however, had other plans—desperate ones.

"Mr. Bauer, _please_ hear me out," Dharma pleaded to Nick outside of his office. Her husband stood silent beside her, anguished, embarrassed, conflicted. She said on, "My boy is being hurt— _badly_ —I can feel it. They are torturing my boy! You must do something; Jessica—they won't harm her, they need her. _Please_ give her back over so they can _release_ Pahti!"

Bauer responded gravely, "Mrs. Afhari, Jessica is in a fragile state at the moment. Moving her is not the best course of action."

"I'm not saying rush her out of here, it can be done slowly and carefully, can't it?"

"Mrs. Afhari, I understand and sympathize with your situation, believe me. But right now things are underway which may facilitate the securement of both Pahti and Jess."

"What things?!"

He gave her a quick rundown of the details of his plan.

She raged, "And if _this_ doesn't work, what then?! My boy suffers?! Do they cut him up and burn him till he can't be recognized anymore?!"

"We won't allow that to happen."

"How can you guarantee that?!"

"You have to trust us to follow through with what is already in motion."

And suddenly, her anxiety overloaded expression turned to venom as she wretched, "You! You are all the same! Corporations are all the same!"

Harneesh tried to calm his wife, but it was useless.

"You are just like them!"

"Dharma, please, this won't help—"

"You and Pear-Paul—the same!!!"

And she stormed away, rage-filled and defiant.

Harneesh stared after her, starting to follow when he turned back and offered, "I am sorry—she doesn't mean any of that."

"It's all right, Mr. Afhari," Bauer replied. "If it were my own, I'd probably say the same thing."

" _Please_ do all you can to succeed in your mission. I beg of you."

"I will, I swear it."

Harneesh gave him a nervous nod and then hurriedly walked on to find his beloved.

Chapter 48

"Carrie, Team Leader...we're in and walking a corridor...No sign of anyone as of yet. No WI's as of yet, over?"

"Copy, Team Leader. Keep us apprised, out."

"Will do, out."

The team marched on cautiously, eyeing every corner of the facility. Power seemed to have been reduced in the underground dwelling for the lights were dim.

Soon they came upon a room—actually two rooms opposite each other of the corridor. Observational panes of thick glass expansed to provide previews of the vast rooms.

Still on their guard, weapons tensed and poised, they peered through the windows to witness the rooms' occupants—row upon row of incubators, stylishly teched in design and metallically glinting even in the low light. All of them in each opposing room were empty. It appeared that Pear-Paul was not in the process of growing anymore WI's—at least not in the rooms encountered so far.

The leader shot his two finger motioning hand out to one room, then again to the other. The team members knew this visual command and split into two groups to more extensively scope out the rooms. Four members stayed out in the hall, scanning both ends in case trouble came about.

The two room groups finished their sweeps and funneled back out to merge with the third. Both signaled all clear. The team was ordered visually to move on in the direction they initially had taken.

The quietness was unnerving. It felt dangerous.

Corridor after semi-darkened corridor, lab room after shady lab room, the group found again nothing but equipment and more incubators. Nevertheless, the team kept tense and ready for any threat to spring suddenly.

And on further in, still nothing but what seemed to be abandoned labs and devices.

Until they came upon a sealed door, locked, with the only possibility of access dependent upon a security code panel featured in the wall.

Or possibly with a few blocks of C-4.

"Carrie, Team Leader...Carrie, Team Leader..." No response. "Dammit, we're too far in, comm's down...Okay, my call, let's blow it."

They set up the blocks to adhere to the door hinges, borders, pulled out the detonator remote, and retreated to a safe distance.

The remote button was pressed, the signal to the detonation feeder device connected to each C-4 block was received and passed on in an instant.

And the blocks blew with a thunderous and powerful pop that echoed the corridors. And the door became unhinged and fell inward with a sharp thud. Darkly grayish smoke followed the bright flash of the explosion, and was wafted around as the door collapsed. There was too much of the stifling cloud to see what was beyond the opening.

But soon it cleared away enough to hazedly reveal a vast room beyond; with things that appeared to be hanging from the ceiling, in columns and rows reaching far back.

The team leader motioned his team forth but told them to go with caution, ready for anything.

They moved through the gutted doorway and saw now exactly what the elongated things hanging from the sub-ceiling were.

The wasps, the WI's. The whole of them—a few hundred in all—just hanging dormant by some sort of highly adhesive rods. The rods were hooked to rings built into the ceiling.

And off to the extreme left and front corner of the room stood a lone scientist, the only one left in the facility.

All team weapons immediately swung and trained on the rotund and lab-coated man. His finger seemed stuck to a button—one built into a panel on the wall.

"Now you take it easy," lab coat jitteringly advised, "with those rifles...This button I have my finger on, it will release a chemical spray that will simultaneous revive the wasps and dissolve the adhesiveness of the rods they're hanging from."

"Who are you?" the team leader asked.

"I am doctor Simon Vikt, third generation German scientist, and I run this facility."

_Simon Vikt,_ thought the team leader, a relative of Werner Vikt, the hypnotherapist working for Pear-Paul, for Stanford? A brother? Cousin?

"Doctor Vikt, I assure you, if you take your hand off the button you will not be harmed."

"Oh, I believe you. I know of your ilk and that your word is golden. But I assure _you_ that if you do not leave this facility entirely, and go back the way you came, I _will_ push this button. And none of you will have the chance to make it out of here alive."

"Doctor Vikt, we don't want to hurt you. You know we are not cold blooded murderers. But if you cannot remove your finger from that button—"

"I will not yield. You are but fifteen men against 237 wasps. And they fly fast. Even with your rapid-fire assault rifles you will not take them all. You _will_ be overrun."

"Doctor, you have but one chance here. If you push that button we will have no choice but to take you down. I cannot have you interfering with what we must do here."

"Do you think me a fool? You know who I work for. If I ever allowed you to kill these genetic miracles, I would suffer a fate _far_ worse than losing my life. So again, I will not yield. Now leave or be slaughtered."

Time was running out, the team leader knew. There were only few hours left before the seventy-two hour deadline was up. And a boy who was one of their own would be physically tortured beyond possible reckoning....

"Last chance, doctor."

"Yes, for _you."_

And the team leader hoped. Hoped and prayed that they could take the doctor down before he could actually push the button—and also that, if it was pushed and the wasps awakened to attack, they would talk to each other to coordinate their assault.

And that the drones outside would pick up on it and come to help...if they were still out there and not ambushed themselves....

"I warned you, doctor—"

"No, I warned you—"

"Drop him," he ordered his men, and they complied, opening fire with a particular type of handgun.

As the doctor pushed the button.

An instant later he fell to the floor and to the end of his consciousness.

In the next split second, a giant hissing sound spat from several holes all throughout the ceiling of the massive room. The group swung about their rifles and aims to witness the hiss signal the release of the chemical spray that would: first, awaken the wasps, and second, dislodge them from their rods.

It only took brief seconds to take effect.

During which time, the team leader ordered his men to retreat with extreme haste.

The drones were powered down.

To a certain extent at any rate. They were sitting on the ground to conserve battery supply; lounging near the damaged and darkly burnt ground hatch as it was still pulled aside.

Although the drones appeared dormant and lifeless, their CPU's were still functioning and merely awaiting further directional input from the tech team.

Or the slightest indication of radar speak from the WI's....

Using his best tactical smarts, the team leader kept his group moving though the narrower hallways; having a portion of his men running backwards as best they could to keep track of what was behind them.

But the leader knew this wouldn't save them for long; knew that the WI's would coordinate themselves to travel and soar down different pathways to circle around and cut off the group's escape route. Even now, he surmised, it must be taking place, the wasps not wasting any time.

And suddenly, the WI's were rounding a corner from far behind, and coming up rapidly. Vikt was right, of course, they _were_ fast flyers!

"FROM BEHIND!" a rear runner roared, and opened fire on the speedily approaching winged terrors.

The rest pointed in the wasps' direction and did the same.

Their rapid rounds pierced the front racers of the insects, splattering yellow-grayish fluids from the wounds and downing the winged things.

Yet several more kept coming, trying to breach the hailstorm of firing.

More firepower was directed their way, and the deluge of white-hot bullets became maddening, drowning out the high-pitch buzzing of the wings.

And no wasps as of yet were able to survive past the rifle sprays from the group. Still they kept coming and coming.

The floor was becoming increasingly littered and greased with wasp corpses. Splats of their bodily liquids dirtied the walls and ceiling.

As the group fired away, two of the members still faced the opposite of the wasps, keeping an eye on that direction should more wasps arrive. And all the while informing the men to keep moving toward the hatch exit.

Until now...

"INCOMING!" shouted the two in almost perfect unison, and opened fire.

Now the group had to equally divide their firing directionals into opposite paths to take down the converging swarms. Dozens and dozens of wasps came forth to attempt a breach in the bullet sprays.

The team's rifle cartridges were running dangerously low.

A few ran out and had to fast reload with new mags jammed in and set to continue firing.

But this now allowed enough of a gap for a few WI's to break through and fly closer to the group.

Other members had to compensate by redirecting their aims to take out the breachers. While the ones who had just reloaded picked up the slack by shooting at the main swarm again. Truly and without question, these were well-trained and clever operatives.

More men ran out, and more wasps broke through. But the same compensation procedure was employed again. Once more it was successful at keeping the mad creatures at bay from attacking the group.

The main problem, which all were starkly aware of, was the fact that each man only had so many spare ammo cartridges. One more replacement and the rifles would be dry. The members also carried .45 handguns with three extra magazines. As well as combat knives.

But those options, of course, were less effective at holding back the duel swarm of determined insectoid.

It only took a few minutes, however, before the rifles' rapid firing expended the last of the mag rounds—and those less effective options became the new and only survival methods.

The .45's were first to be employed naturally, but the men still held onto their rifles to aid in fending off the winged freaks.

But now the wasps were flying overhead of the men, attempting to stab their human targets anywhere they could.

The group had to reform now as a hunching, kneeling down mass; with the end defenders taking on .45's in both hands to fire away, and the middle men handling two rifles each to jab at the wasps. With this repositioning, the wasps were still kept from piercing or lacerating any of the team.

Yet it only took between a space of five to ten minutes before the .45 mags were expended, the handlers yelling they're out of ammo, and the rifles had to be redistributed again to one per man. Each member now pulled their knives out to reinforce their desperate defense.

In all, the group had successfully taken out a hundred and fifty-eight wasps. That, however and unfortunately, still left seventy-nine angry and vengeful insectoid.

Who were now slowly but surely crowding in and all around the rifle and knife-flailing men.

A stinger sliced a scalp—before the pointedly sharp thing was lobbed off by a swiping knife. Venom was splattered and caught one man in the eye. He screamed out and squinted in the splashed eye. But he kept the other firmly open to continue his defense.

Another stinger penetrated the flailing and scraped an ear. A small chunk of its cartilage flew along with a spurt of blood. The man barely felt it as he furiously swung his rifle and jabbed his knife.

So many wasps were attempting to break through now, sliding their stingers in at every angle high and low to get at the men. To overwhelm them and throw them off balance with too many targets to swing and stab at.

The men were, of course, very agile in their reflexes, and had been trained to fight hard in the worst of circumstances.

But the simple fact stood: there were just too many wasps.

And the men knew it.

But they were resolved to go down fighting and inflict as much damage as possible.

Suddenly, a peculiar and promising thing happened. The wasps now appeared to become off-kilter in their movements, disoriented in their coordination. Many of them actually lost the ability to stay in the air, and fell to the viscousy floor, flitting about dumbly.

And from the direction of the hatch, eight new flyers raced into view—the drones had arrived!

They opened fire and wasted the remaining numbers of wasps in a matter of a few minutes.

And with only a few minor injuries, every team member survived.

Though most of them needed a serious shower.

Chapter 49

"Wake up, boy," Werner Vikt commanded of Pahti.

The young Pakistani's eyelids cinched repeatedly, struggling to acclimate to opening after insufficient rest. The irritation was so great that his pinkish corneas watered instantly. The boy simply looked haggard.

"Look alive, Pahti. It's time to start again."

"Mmm..." Pahti hummed groggily. "Can't...can't you just...rot in hell already? I'm too tired for this..."

"Dwelling summation engender."

"OOUGHH!" Pahti wailed in agony as he felt a phantom bug crawl into his ear. "UNNNNNNUHH!"

In the next few seconds, the intense sensation was gone.

"Woken up now, sweet boy?"

Pahti pounded out hard breaths, his head lulled forth.

Vikt switched gears. "In an hour, my dear employer will be contacting your people to ascertain their decision...I'm afraid that leaves me little time to complete my work if they agree to our terms.

"You know, I've never worked on an adult chosen before...I was, admittedly, giddy to take on the challenge of something new...oh, of course, I'd worked on your friend, Jessica—but she was hardly a challenge being only a small child at the time. I must say...I admire your resolve...

"But I must tell you, once you start actually incurring _real_ physical damage, Pahti...well...I wonder if that resolve will hold...

"So here's where we stand—and what I've been authorized to do to you...if they agree to hand over Jessica and the other two, we will hand you back— _but_ , in the transit time and while they're figuring out the best way to execute the trade, I will begin severing your fingers one by one in the hopes of persuading you to cooperatively undergo hypnosis.

"If they _don't_ agree to our terms, then I will again start with the fingers, then move on to the ears and the nose. _Then_ , whole appendages—hands, arms, legs. We will have some brief interludes of burning—either with fire or acid—before we start removing less vital internal organs. And if they _still_ refuse to do the trade after that, then the eyes go, the teeth, your tongue, then your lower jaw. And perhaps after that I might just begin to get super creative.

"But _until_ such time," And Vikt altered the toning of his voice as he said, "Stately coagulating emancipation."

An invisible hammer slammed into Pahti's right knee.

Chapter 50

"Here it is, sir," announced a team member as he sat at a PC terminal in one of the main incubator labs. "Every single DNA sequence necessary to create the wasps."

The others in the group—apart from two absent—were standing behind their seated comrade, staring at his finds on the monitor.

The leader responded with, "Good. Download it to our thumb, then let's start our way back out."

"Yes, sir," the seated one said with enthusiasm, and clicked the buttons necessary for transfer.

The absent two returned to the room with a guest in their firm escort...

Doctor Simon Vikt, still a bit brain hazed from the numerous tranquilizer darts inflicted on him.

"Doctor, you're awake, good," team leader greeted, then advised, "Because you're coming with us."

Dejection as well as lethargy materialized on Vikt's face as he responded, "I had a feeling you were going to say that."

Just as he finished saying this, there came eight fairly loud "clacks" to the flooring—the drones had lost all power.

"Good thing we powered them down before we came down here, sir," stated a team member to the leader, "Otherwise, we would have been toast."

"We timed it right," leader said, "we executed it right."

" _Oo-_ ya, sir," the group responded with pride.

"Oo-ya, boys." Leader repeated with evenness and honor as he eyed his crew.

Chapter 51

"Time is most definitely up, Nicky-boy," Stanford announced over the phone to Bauer, "What's your decision?"

"Oh, we have a trade, Mr. Jordan."

"Excellent. I'll alert my staff—"

"But not Jessica for the boy."

"...Come again."

"I have a new proposal for you, Stanford, one that I'm sure you'll be quite interested in."

"Really...? I'm all ears."

"I thought you'd like to know that we stumbled upon your little secret laboratories where your biological blasphemies were created. And we managed, from the reports I've received anyway, to eliminate every last one of the WI's. I'm sending you a video file now with brief evidence to the fact. This, of course, came before the team on site set explosives to the facility. The explosions, I'm told, were even powerful enough to cause a few cave-ins of the top soil. Evidence of this is also included in the file. In addition, I should mention that we have in our custody a doctor who claims he was in charge of the labs: a Mr. Simon Vikt, I believe—as well as a copy of all his genetic work. The video will confirm this as well. Are you receiving the file in your email now?"

"...I am...I'm opening..." Stanford responded nominally—yet with an undercurrent of tension.

Bauer waited on the phone line as it seemed clear Stanford was viewing the video file. There was a silence for a minute...then a treble-rich yet tiny voice came through the receiver—the team leader's from the video: "Mr. Vikt, please confirm what we need you to." And Simon's equally distorted down reply came: "I confirm that I am in the custody of the Ell-Bau's operatives. And that they have secured all files pertaining to my specialized genetics work...Now get the camera off me, you filthy rats!"

Soon after, Stanford spoke again. "So...I see your proposed trade now."

"Interested, Mr. Jordan?"

"...Keep talking."

"This is two-tiered as I see it. I don't believe you when you say that Pahti will be unaltered. _Or_ unharmed. If you return him in such a manner, you will only receive the genetic files— _with_ a coded encryption. Mr. Vikt will remain in our custody. _If_ , however, you give over Pahti with _no_ alteration to him, body or mind, _and_ you agree to leave Jessica and her family and friends alone for good, you will receive Vikt and the files—no encode."

"I can find other geneticists, Mr. Bauer."

"Not ones you can fully trust, I gather. And you'll have to start from scratch. Many more millions that you'll have to ask your board to fund—unless you have another personal fortune you'd like to expend yet again..."

Stanford thought it over...and realized that his personal accounts had been hit enough in the past ten to fifteen years. He was committed to the cause of the new evolution...but not at the expense of utter personal bankruptcy.

And the total embarrassment of complete failure yet again.

"...Very well, Nick...The boy—completely unharmed and unchanged—for the files and Vikt."

"Very good, Mr. Jordan. I'm sending you another file—a document for you to read and sign regarding the details of the new exchange."

"It will be signed and sent back to you in the next few minutes."

"Very good then."

And in the next few hours, Pahti was released to Ell-Bau—and his parents, who were ecstatic and thankful beyond words.

A short while later, Stanford had personal meeting with Dr. Vikt—the hypnotherapist one...

...and summarily—and quite painfully—had the good doctor's entire set of fingers removed.

Chapter 51

"Well, Carrie," Andre began with a bit of a smile, "you and your team must be pretty pleased with yourselves."

Carrie, who just turned away from watching the Montana video footage once more, spun in her chair to face Andre. They were both in the _Transistor_ main office. She coolly responded, "I suppose."

"Come on, you helped save the day, people's lives were spared as a result."

"Yeah, I know."

"But what? You're sad because a whole bunch of genetically enhanced flying bugs got fragged?"

"No...I'm sad because you were right..."

"Of course, I was...aaabout what?"

"About me, about us...I actually enjoyed hearing that those things were killed...that I had a hand in it."

Andre brought his face inward and pursed his lips in understanding. "I wouldn't torture myself over it. They spared the geneticist who created them, so they'll probably be more of them someday."

"That's not the issue."

" _Look,_ if you see a spider crawling on a little child, you swat it off and stomp on it. How's that any different from what happen this morning?"

"The difference is you would be repulsed by what you had to do, not get some sick pleasure out of it."

"Well...nobody's perfect, not even you folks."

"...I know..." She stared off in dejected contemplation for a brief moment more, then said, "I talked to Nick just a little bit ago...I offered him congratulations and a sense of relief, of course...But then I decide to ask him why the decision to eliminate the wasps had come now—and not years before."

"And what did he say?" Andre asked with a touch of cynicism.

"He told me that Ellison had seriously considered an operation to seek out the WI's...But that he was too afraid of the reprisals to his company employees and their families...to Jessica and hers."

"Do you believe him?"

"About the Jessica part, I certainly do...I've never felt the need to second guess my employers before now."

"Corporate life is a muddied business no matter who you are. That's why Aly and I love free agency...and the simplicity of what we do."

"Well, you'll be paid quite generously now, for your part in this..."

"Yes, indeed, that's guaranteed now. Aly just had her own little conversation with Bauer...Turns out not only did he know who kept the account code, but—"

"But _he_ was the one with the code."

"Part of the astute crowd, you are, Carrie. Aly and I are on our way over to collect it—aaand hopefully disappear for a while. Good thing _we're_ not the chosen.

"Coffee some other time, hm?" he said with a thin-lipped smile and turned to leave.

But she approached him and stopped him by saying, "Wait—!"

He whipped about and raised his eyebrows.

She put her hands on his lower shoulders and went in for a gentle kiss to his cheek, then said with a lamentful tone, _"Please_ listen to me...don't do this anymore. Take the money and find something better for you and your lady..."

The cynical eyes and half grin came over Andre's face as he replied, "Aah Carrie...it's all we know, the only thing we're exceedingly good at...Anyway, we're not night school types—we're not even day school types." And he grinned a bit more. "You keep being you...and hopefully our paths won't cross as a result, hm?" He gave her a tiny peck on the forehead, and turned back to go find Aly and exit _Transistor._

Chapter 52

"Can I read to her?" Pahti asked Erin as he had just popped his head through the medical wing door.

Erin was close by Jess' bedside, seated and reading a young adult novel when she looked up to respond to Pahti. "Sure. Let me finish this chapter, then you can take over."

"Sure, okay. Just come get me, I'll be right outside."

"Okay, sweetie." She smiled.

He smiled in return and left, closing the door again.

Erin turned back to the book to read again when—

"Okay what?"

Erin popped her head up from the book to stare raptly at Jess, her mother's eyes widening instantly.

Jess' own eyes were now open.

"You're awake!" Erin said to her in disbelief.

"Everything okay?" Jess asked as she gazed questioningly at her mother.

"Are you kidding me? Things are great! Better, now that you're awake!"

Yet from Jess' increasingly penitent brow, it appeared that her daughter couldn't share Erin's sentiment. "...Oh mother," she thickly uttered, "...the hideous things I've done to people—"

"What _Pear-Paul_ did, _not you...them..."_

"...I swore I would stop them...that they wouldn't control me—"

"You didn't _know,_ honey—none of us knew. They got to you as a little child, how could you have fought them?"

Tears now flooded Jess' eyes, her face grimaced in the throws of crying. "...But this is now...with me for the rest of my life, mom...how can I possibly live with this...?"

"The same way I did...by _allowing_ people in; and by dedicating your life to becoming what you always hoped and knew you could be...a force for good, Jessie...you're the chosen for a reason...don't let it be a curse."

In the midst of heavy sobs, Jess nodded, then got out, "...I love you, mom..."

"Oh baby, you have no idea."

And Erin drew Jess into her enfolding; they embraced and held each other for quite while.

Fifteen minutes later, Erin called everybody in—her family, Pahti and his parents, and Mill with his Thresher group.

It was quite a full house now in the medical wing.

The outpouring of love from everyone was immense—and a tad overwhelming for Jess. But with her mother at her side, she was able to cope well enough.

"Hey, baby girl," Curt was currently saying, "Do you think when we all get out of here, you might wanna share a Healthy Shell with your old man?"

"Mmm, I think that can be arranged," Jess responded slyly and with a smile.

" _Hey,_ I get to come too!" Pahti put in, "I haven't had one of those in months!"

"What is this Healthy Shell thing?" Mill asked.

"You've never heard of them? Where have you been, man?"

"Training..." And Mill glanced about his Threshers. "That's about all we do is train...And Kerrigan's on Saturdays as you know."

"Well, you're in for a treat, my fellow choze."

"Hey," Al began, a bit miffed, "how come _I_ have never been invited to partake of a Healthy Shell with you youngins?"

"Yeah," chimed in Sophie in mock indignance, "What are we, not hip enough for your new-fangled designer treats?"

"Are we not freshly funkified—or whatever you kids slang it today?"

This elicited a burst of laughter from everyone else in the room.

Still chuckling, Jess replied, "Grandpa, if you promise to never say that phrase ever again, you are sincerely invited—both of you."

"Oh good, it felt wrong immediately after it came out of my mouth." And he chuckled along with the rest.

Suddenly, Dean spoke up and looked at Curt, "Hey ol' pal, you think your cousin would go for a Healthy Shell?"

Curt smiled and said, "I think she'd love it, bud. You know she's moved down here now, I'll give her a call for y—"

"No, that's okay...I'll call her."

Curt nodded slowly and said, "...Okay...okay..." And then he turned and looked at Erin with satisfaction and announced, "Okay, it's a date then. Everybody's in!"

Cheers and applause erupted.

When it died down, Mill asked Erin, "Mrs. Melendez, you don't mind if I kiss your daughter at this event, do you?"

"Not at all," Erin approved. "Suck face, I demand it."

Laughter broke out again.

" _But,"_ Curt said over it, "you have to be officially going out by that time!"

And Mill stared at Jess, his eyebrows ascending, "Well...what do you think...?"

"What do you mean, what do I think?" Jess said with annoyance and impatience, _"Of course,_ you big dummy!"

Mill spread his arms and hands out to his sides, then let them slap to his hips as he concluded, "Welp—that settles that then." And he grinned happily to mirror Jess.

Soon, however, her own smile faltered a bit and her eyes turned serious. "...Mill?"

"Yeah, Jess," he replied, flattening out his enthusiasm.

"...The last...target that I had...did he...did he make it?"

Mill looked downward as he started, "Ah..."

But a new voice rang in as its owner entered the room. "He was touch and go after his heart surgery."

Everyone turned to witness Bauer's entrance as he spoke on and came forth. "But now he's stable, doing better...and expected to make a full recovery. How are _you,_ Jess?"

"Better. Now. How...is there any change to Mr. Ellison?"

"No, I'm afraid not. But he hasn't taken any turns for the worse, so that's something at least."

"I'm _so_ sorry—"

"You _weren't_ you at the time, Jess."

"But I feel terrible for it anyway."

"Well, I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say that I hope it doesn't last—that you don't waste the rest of your _real_ self imploding with guilt. You were insidiously duped by the worst of the worst of who we are. But now that you're _back_ to the truer part of yourself—"

"I know. I need to live up to the best that we can be...and I fully intend to. You have my word on that."

And Dean said, "Well we now know _that's_ written in stone."

And the laughter—though not as uproarious this time—returned.

Chapter 53

To feel like he could at least in some way immorally stick it to the Belaski's, Stanford decided he would take a small sabbatical up to the Cantor Woods area.

To lounge and morbidly ruminate inside the cabin of Erin's grandmother. He even left a text message with her family claiming as much.

And why not? After all, it was now officially Pear-Paul property—one tiny iota of victory over those self-righteous hypocrites, Stanford ruefully pondered.

Still, it wasn't enough to quell the boiling rage he felt over his personal and professional failure yet again.

And this flame-rising fire in his head was charring his emotional state, making it difficult to properly reflect and figure a way back from this blatant disaster.

Perhaps I'll just take an assault rifle, pull up to the Ell-Bau HQ, and just see how many I can blow away wholesale before they take me down, was a reckless thought that sparked through Stanford's mind. And he seriously considered it for a brief period, before realizing that the notion of dying right soon couldn't override his core desire to live.

And to succeed. That, funnily enough, might still be on the table for his future pursuits. He yet possessed some of the resources to begin again, that was true. The key geneticist and his research materials—as well as Vikt's support team—were Stanford's to utilize if he so desired.

But building a new underground facility in a new discreet location was at this point a fiscal improbability. After all of his highbrow expenses befitting a vice president of a major conglomerate, Stanford netted a mere three million in his personal accounts. Simply not enough to reconstruct new labs and fund the creation of hundreds of new exoskeletal wonders.

Even though he was now making Simon work for his very life—and no longer for monetary gain, a point Stanford hit home by lightly acid-burning the good geneticist's arms—it still wasn't financially feasible.

If he were to go forth with a new directive, he would have to approach the board of directors—approach Carnegie for serious budgetary assistance.

Which Stanford was vehemently not looking forward to.

Carnegie had wanted Ell-Bau squashed into oblivion almost twenty years ago. And the blasted pathetic "honorable" types were to this day yet a major force in the corporate landscape. With this in mind— _and_ Stanford's recent debacle of a failure—rumors were rampant that the revered VP would possibly be demoted.

Never mind that Stanford's mutated creations had served the company well for the past sixteen-odd years. All that the board and Carnegie would see was a second failure from their once trusted golden boy.

He knew this because that would be all _he_ would see if the situation were reversed.

On this whole disturbing subject, he was still unclear as to his next major move forth.

On another matter, however, he was not conflicted or non-resolute in the slightest...

From the laptop keypad actually resting on his lap, he typed in a video phone name and tapped enter. A few seconds later, a face popped up on the monitor.

Jean's.

"Yes, sir?" she asked, eyes tense. She knew full well that he was unhappy.

"Where are we?" he inquired, referring to the search for Aly and Andre.

She blinked and visibly rose a breath in her chest as she said, "We have possible ID's on them at the Drollinger Airport yesterday aftern—"

"I would appreciate it if you would not lie to me," he flatly cut in, toning a dreadful deadness in his voice.

"...All right," she conceded, attempting to remain formal, professional. "We have nothing. You and I know these aren't amateur players. It's going to take a good amount of time to track them down."

"But you're going to dedicate the rest of your life making sure that it happens, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now...you've mentioned in the past that you have a...particular arrangement with Carnegie...met with him recently?"

"A week ago, sir."

"And I assume you might have learned certain things from him..."

"He...he will be calling a meeting with you when he gets back from Japan. I don't think I need to tell you what it's about."

"No...anything else? Be candid."

"Ahh...he appears to be a tad undecided as to whether to keep you in your current position...That's all I know at this point, sir."

Stanford looked far off for a brief moment, silently contemplating while attempting to cage his emotions.

After, he darted his eyes back to the screen, to Jean, and curtly said, "Your honesty is appreciated. Carry out your assignment."

And he clicked the disconnect icon while Jean was in the middle of saying, "Yes, sir." The digital window disappeared along with her image.

And Stanford was alone again with his poisonous and directionless thoughts.

Chapter 54

"Stop her!" Ellison creaked as his lying body twitched in the private medical room bed. His eyes were still closed.

The nurse who had been checking his IV bag perked her own eyes up and looked down at his pale and slightly gaunted face. "Mr. Ellison?" she tried, hopeful.

And in the next few seconds, his lids began to cinch signaling a willingness to try and separate as a follow-up maneuver. Suddenly he opened his eyes and blinked rapidly in an attempt to visually acclimate to the environment about him.

"...Mr. Ellison? Mr. Ellison..."

"...Mmmm..." he groaned groggily.

"Mr. Ellison, it's Nurse Calloway. Can you hear me?"

"...Tracy?"

"That's right, it's me," she concurred with a smile. "I'm glad to see that you're awake, sir, you've been asleep for quite a long time."

Ellison ventured an awkward arm motion as it travelled to his throat. He felt with his fingers a tiny line of bumpish swelling—an incision wound built over the rounded one the pen originally made in his throat.

"...How long?" he grated out.

"Three weeks and four days, sir."

"...Jessica..."

"She's safe. She's back with us, sir. Dina did her magic and brought her back from what Pear-Paul did to her. It was rough going though—she was actually in a coma herself from the resulting shock of the things she'd done."

"...What things?" His brow drew in.

"...Perhaps it would be better if Mr. Bauer talked to you regarding this matter. I'll call him, he'll want to know that you're awake anyway, I'm sure."

"...Very well."

And she went straight away to do just that.

Ten minutes later, Bauer was in the room and greeting his old friend with immense gratefulness. "Good to see you back with the waking world, Tobe."

"Is that what you call this?" Ellison raspily remarked.

Bauer chuckled. "I know, it must feel like you've had a truck back up over you. You need some water?"

"Brandy...would be nice."

"Maybe a bit later," Bauer grinned, "I'd like you to get your wind back if possible."

"Party pooper."

"So...how dare you be gone for so long. It's no fun running this place on my own."

"I'm...entitled to a vacation every thirty years, you know...You had a long enough break yourself, so...serves you right." And Ellison cracked a weak smile of his own.

"So you're not planning on doing something like this again, right?"

"No...living forever is my new mindset. So don't worry, partner...Hey, you thinks it's too late to find a wife and settle down with some kids?"

"Chaplin did it when he eighty."

"Then, see, I'm ahead of the game."

And they both grinned again.

A few seconds later, however, the jovial mood faltered as Bauer revealed, "Some things have happened while you've been unconscious."

"I gather...I heard that Jessie is back and safe."

"...Yes...but not before Pear-Paul had her eliminate some of our people."

Ellison looked away blinking in dejection and remorse. "...How many?"

"Two. Almost three."

"But she's better now?"

"I believe so. Dina seems firm on the matter, having delved into Jess' deepest subconscious."

"They did it too her as a child...didn't they?"

"It looks like, yeah."

Ellison shook his head weakly, eyes baffled with utter and sickening horror of it all.

"There's more that you should hear," Bauer went on. "We eliminated every WI that was created."

"How?"

"Carrie and her crew, I'm sure, would love to fill you in on every detail concerning that. But the main thing is that the labs were located and destroyed. And the geneticist responsible for the wasps' creation was withheld from Stanford, unless he made a new agreement to never again use Jess. _Or_ make any threatening moves against her friends and family for the rest of their lives. I actually have it in writing."

"And legal has this document?"

"Several copies."

"Good man. Not even the people they have embedded in the federal courts could ignore that."

"Yes indeed," Bauer added with eyes of controlled victory.

"You think Stanford will continue to honor it?"

"...Tough to say. Though I don't think he has much clout with his superiors after what's happened."

"No, I don't imagine so...but the man has been down before."

"True... _but_ , as always, we'll have to keep a look out for him, and his kind."

"You _have_ been busy while I was off on vacation."

"Couldn't replace you though."

"That's probably true," he joked.

And once again the smiles returned between them, firmly ingrained with comradery and the honor of brotherhood.

Chapter 55

The protectives were readying themselves to leave the confines of Ell-Bau's highrise HQ. Everyone had gathered their belongings and had placed them by the elevator. But before they lugged them inside the elevator itself and descended to the lobby, it seemed appropriate that some goodbyes were in order.

Carrie and her genius crew of tech misfits were back at work at the HQ and wanted to get in on the farewells. Though most of the protectives were a bit confused as to why at first. Soon, however, Bauer filled them in on the tech team's role in derailing Pear-Paul's hideous intentions. The Afahri's were particularly grateful for Carrie and company's efforts—especially in ensuring Pahti's safe release.

Halfway through the ceremonious event of goodbyes and thank-you-ever-so-much's, Ellison made an appearance. He was dressed rather casually in a long sleeve, button-up shirt and khaki pants. And many employees seemed a bit taken back by his informal wear. Yet mostly thankful to have him back as their highly competent captain. Now it truly was Ellison and Bauer again.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Ellison?" Erin asked the elder man as they finally weaved around others to converge.

"Better," he assured, though he was still taking meds for headaches. "Thanks."

"Well, are you glad that you don't have to be footing the bill for us refugees anymore?" she jokingly asked.

"Oh please, you were like extended family."

"Well...we certainly have known each other for forever, haven't we...looked after one another's well being..."

"Yes, we have."

"And what the hell, Jess is one of you, so...Okay, extended family, I'm good with it." And she smiled.

He gave one back, of course.

Bauer joined them and greeted, "Tobin, Erin," with a bright face. "Almost feels like a birthday party, doesn't it?"

"It does, doesn't it," both Ellison and Erin unwittingly said together, then laughed at their coincidental reply.

Chuckling a bit himself, Bauer averted his attention to notice something quite peculiar. Jessie and Pahti were conversing about something or other with Carrie and her motley crew of techies. He decided to voice the peculiarity to the other two.

"You know, I never noticed this before, but Jess and Carrie could almost be sisters, couldn't they?"

Ellison gazed upon the two younger women across the way, and certainly saw what Bauer was referring to. Both Jess and the tech leader held similar postures with similar physique structures. And both sported richly sheened brunette hair—though Carrie's cropped cut bared quite a contrast to Jess' much longer style. "My goodness, you're right...both of them spitfires for sure. And neither has reached their full potential yet."

"They will," Bauer assured with certainty.

Erin took notice as well—and agreed with the two chosen's assessment—to a certain degree. There was, of course, a slight physical resemblance between the two young women. And perhaps both were spirited to match. Yet the mother knew that Jess differed from this Carrie in that she was not tech-minded. Erin couldn't see her only daughter following in the footsteps of the computer and circuitry wiz kids employed at Ell-Bau, or anywhere for that matter.

Which led to Erin's trademark curiosity in wondering just what kind of career direction that her now grown child _would_ take.

Would Jess go back to school to continue her education and better her chances out in the business world? Or would she find that boring and tedious having already mastered so many academic avenues on her own?

Perhaps writing. Jess had always created such eloquent essays that garnered her endless praise from teachers in high school. But what avenue would that be? Journalism? Novels? Non-fiction exposé's or biographies?

Certainly not an artist, the mother had to concede. Jess may be a genius in most respects, yet she couldn't draw worth a lick. Not anywhere near what Grandy used to achieve, with her almost true-to-life sketches that bedecked her cabin walls. Dean got that trait handed to him in spades—his adolescent homemade comic books were always quite impressive.

Clearly Jess' non-artist gene was passed to her from both Al and Sophie, for the best that they could ever do were stick figures.

Erin witnessed her daughter flit her attention briefly across the room to Mill. He caught her stare and gave her a mock look of aggression, pointing jabbingly at her. She gave him the same in return, then placed her fist in a comical "put-up-your-dukes!" gesture. Then both cracked smiles in unison before averting their eyes back to their own conversational groups.

And then it struck her that Jess could become, if she truly wanted to, a martial arts specialist who trained others to defend themselves—and become more centered and empowered. She certainly knew enough— _and_ always had a general interest—in the ways of physical combat to teach any novice or newcomer.

And she had always been a leader, the main voice of reason and direction in the primary social circle of Bea, Pahti, and herself.

She could certainly lead in no matter what field she fervently wishes to pursue. Lead and inspire, and never abuse her position of power to poison her soul and of those around her.

And Erin found one other variant from the chosen named Carrie. Jess possessed a more striking beauty than the mousier look of the tech supervisor—at least in Erin's maternally-biased point of view at any rate.

Yet Erin had to concede again that Jess, as beautiful and demure as she was, likely wouldn't cut it as a supermodel. Her daughter was now too muscled and firmed in her physique to join the waifs that catwalked the international fashion runways. Though thankfully, Erin thought on with pride, the bulk that netted Jess's body was not in the extreme. She still graced a predominantly feminine appearance to balance out her rock athleticism.

And so what, the proud mother rationalized, if Jess was not ideally faited to be a world renowned supermodel. She was certainly meant to become a super _something_ —clearly an extraordinary and honorable something.
