Arc Two of Extinction (Chapter Twenty-Five: Save Yourself (PART I of the Finale))

Sorry this took so long. I had most of it written ages ago, but I forgot my memory stick when I went home for xmas, so I couldn't post it. Sorry again, hope whoever still reads this enjoys it.

The next chapter will follow shortly, I have it finished, just need to figure out how to post it.

I've just read the last chapter, and it was purely amazing, I really didn't guess that Korolov would have been being blackmailed - that is, if he really was.

You're half right.

Thanks for commenting.

Chapter Seventeen: The Firm

NYPD Precinct 12, Lower Manhattan

Twenty years ago (2011)

Monica Drake shouldered through the flimsy revolving door and marched straight up to the reception desk, dropping her files on the counter and clearing her throat loudly. Despite her obvious entrance, the young officer did not acknowledge immediately. Instead he waited until Monica coughed politely for a second time before looking up from his computer monitor.
He could tell straight away by the way she dressed and carried herself that the woman was a lawyer. The stereotypical relationship between police and lawyers is never a good one. In Manhattan, it was worse.
‘I need to speak to Detective Fox,’ she said, with an air of authority.
The clerk finally gave her his full attention, ‘Can I ask you to write your name and the name of your office in the log on the screen to your left?’
‘Sorry, you don’t understand,’ Monica gave him a twitchy smile. ‘It’s urgent.’
‘I understand fine, ma’am, but Detective Fox is interviewing a suspect right now and he can’t-’
‘Yes, that’s what this is about,’ Monica cut across him sharply. ‘A girl turned herself in here 2 hours ago for attempted murder. We’re here to represent her.’

Five minutes later, Monica was standing on the right side of a one-way mirror, carefully observing the young woman on the other side. Although she had been cuffed, she seemed perfectly resigned to sitting still and cooperating. Her skin was pale naturally, although Monica suspected her fair appearance was somewhat exaggerated by the harsh lighting in the interrogation room, not to mention by the alien nature of the situation. More than anything, though, Monica was struck by her eyes. They were the brightest green, again helped by the glare from the lights, but even so, they were quite something. Captivating...
To her left, her colleague was scrutinising the girl as well. Finch had been working with Monica for quite some time, as an apprentice attorney. From the start it had been clear that they shared the same desire to see justice prevail, whatever the consequences. But only recently had they both discovered just how alike they really were.
‘Who is she then?’ The young lawyer’s question was directed at the detective, who stood the other side of Monica.
Roland Fox hesitated before answering, giving both Monica and Finch a suspicious sideways glance. ‘White Caucasian female, ‘proximately 20 years of age. Possibly English.’ He shrugged. ‘She just turned up here, couple o’ hours back, clearly distressed. She told us there was a man, in a silver Cadillac at a parking lot on third, who was badly burnt and needed medical attention. When I asked how she knew this, she told me she did it to him. She hasn’t spoken a word since...’
‘So she turned herself in,’ Finch stated impassively. ‘Did you find the victim?’
Fox shook his head, ‘We found the car, but someone had already called an ambulance. He’s in intensive care at St Mark’s, being treated for third-degree burns. Stable...for now,’ he added unconfidently. ‘Name’s Alan Barnett, we linked him to a suspected hit and run about a week ago, but we couldn’t track him down until now. I tell you, though, the strangest thing...’
He trailed off, seemingly apprehensive, but perhaps more due to the implausibility of what he was about to divulge. ‘The strangest thing is that, when I finally got to ask him a few questions, he insisted that she’-he nodded his head at the motionless girl on the other side of the glass- ‘actually burnt him herself.’
‘Well, she did admit to it...’ began Finch.
‘No sir, you’re not hearing me,’ the detective raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly sceptical himself. ‘She had nothing on her- no matches, lighters, nothing- and we searched the car: ditto. Barnett claims, beyond doubt, that she literally made fire appear in her hands. From nothing...’
‘He’s obviously confused...traumatised,’ speculated Monica, without much conviction. ‘These witness statements are never reliable…’
‘I assure you, ma’am, he was adamant. He was pretty shook up, alright, but he knew what he was saying. Six months ago I would have called him crazy, but this isn’t exactly the first time I heard o’ something like this. I reckon...’ he leaned in towards them, as if someone might be listening in on their conversation. In fact, he was almost whispering. ‘I mean, I think she might be one of them.’
Fox emphasised the last three words as if they denoted some sort of witchcraft or heresy. He failed to notice the looks of anxiety exchanged, for the briefest of moments, between the two lawyers.
‘I guess you could be right, Detective,’ said Monica, her face had returned to its usual neutrality. ‘Maybe we could talk to her. She might feel more comfortable knowing she has legal representation. If we work together, we can get to the bottom of this.’
Fox didn’t look especially optimistic, particularly at the last remark, but he conceded nonetheless. ‘Alright, I’ll give you guys a few minutes with her. At least try and get a name. Without that, we might as well try our luck on the JFK conspiracy.’

Monica approached the young woman slowly but without a shred of uncertainty. She wanted to show that she was not afraid of her or that she herself had any reason to be afraid of Monica. They were equals, this was not an interrogation, it was an introduction.
‘Hello Elan,’ she began. Elan Greene looked up at her, surprised at hearing her name spoken. Monica had held out her hand for Elan to shake, but the latter simply stared blankly at her, then her gaze gradually moved to Finch, who had hung back next to the door.
‘Who are you people...?’ she uttered, just audibly. She didn’t look frightened, but neither did she look especially trusting...of either of them.
‘My name is Monica Drake and this is my colleague Jake Finch,’ said Monica amiably. ‘We work at a private law firm, Miss Greene, we want to represent you.’
‘You don’t look like lawyers...’ said Elan distrustfully.
Monica reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a small stack of rectangular cards, and handed one to Elan. The latter snatched it and scrutinised it for some time, considering the only words printed on it were “Monica Drake, Attorney-at-law, Mayfield Law Firm”, aside from the address of the office and her cell phone number. It did not bother Monica that Elan might be attempting to memorise these last two details.
‘Keep it,’ she said slyly, when Elan moved to hand the business card back. ‘I hope it eases your mind.’
‘Sorry,’ said Elan. Monica caught the twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. ‘I thought you were from the government. You know? Because of what I can do... I thought you were here to take me away.’
‘I can assure you, Miss Greene, our only wish is to help you,’ Finch spoke for the first time, his voice calm and reassuring. He moved forward behind his superior, but still remained standing. ‘Like Monica said, we want to represent you-’
‘I don’t have any money,’ Elan snapped suddenly. ‘You’re wasting your time.’
Monica chuckled friendlily, ‘Miss Greene, we’re not exactly a profit-organisation.’
Elan rested her cuffed hands on the metal tabletop and leant forward, ‘So why me then? You don’t even know me!’
Neither Monica nor Finch reacted to her sudden aggression, which quickly subsided. After a few seconds, Monica answered her, as relaxed as ever: ‘We know a lot more than you think, Elan. We know all about your father’s promotion, your mother’s illness, your brother’s accident...last week. The man you attacked- Barnett- targeted Daniel, didn’t he? He ran down and killed Daniel, because your brother wasn’t normal, was he? And neither are you, Elan.’
Eyes wide with shock, Elan shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, glancing nervously up at the camera in the corner.
‘Don’t worry about them,’ Monica tilted her head, indicating the large mirror to her left. ‘I’ve hacked into the precinct’s system and looped all the surveillance on this room; no one can hear you but us.’
Elan looked uncertain. ‘Why do you want to help me this much? I’m no one. I’m nothing to anybody; even my parents think I’m a waste of space. They’ve made it pretty clear that they’d rather I was the one hit by that car.’
There were tears in her eyes, but she fought hard not to let them escape onto her cheeks. Eventually, Finch moved from behind Monica and pulled a chair round the table next to Elan, seating himself on it the wrong way round- in an immature style. However, his face only exuded deep empathy and kindness. Carefully, he took Elan’s restrained hands in his own and squeezed them gently. Then his dull brown eyes found her bright green ones, and Elan found herself unable to remove her gaze from him.
‘People used to tell me I was no one,’ he told her, voice full of sincerity. ‘I used to be the kid who was too frightened to even go to sleep. Nobody understood why, they just shunned me because I was different. It used to hurt so much that no one even tried to understand me, or even tolerate me. It was even scarier than the dreams themselves. But now I can see that just because you’re not normal, it doesn’t make you any less of a person. If anything, it makes you all the stronger for surviving...on your own. I would happily give my life so that no one would ever have to feel the way I did back then. That’s why I hate to see you feeling like that, right now.’
‘I...’ Elan was lost for words. This man, a complete stranger to her, had just encapsulated everything about her life just by describing his own. It couldn’t just be a coincidence. Whoever these people were, they could understand, and they wanted to help.
‘The world is changing, Elan, people are changing,’ Monica pulled her back into the room, into reality, with her stern authoritative voice. ‘This isn’t the same country it was yesterday, not the same planet. You must have seen it on the news? Every day people are discovered with amazing abilities, and yet so many remain in the shadows. All these people feel the same way that you do right now: afraid, isolated and alone. They don’t understand what’s happening to them, and neither does anyone else. Sooner or later, they might hurt somebody, or worse. Whether intentionally or not,’ Monica added, warily. When Elan opened her mouth to defend her actions, Monica cut across her. ‘You don’t have to justify yourself to us, Elan. That man killed your brother, you wanted revenge. Of course, we realise that. But you didn’t go through with it...you turned yourself in. I can’t communicate how much I admire you for that. I can’t say I’d have done the same if put in your position.’
‘But what do you want from me?’ Elan asked, aware that she had let her guard drop.
Finch shook his head. ‘We’re not asking anything of you right now, Elan. We’ll get you off these charges and you can walk away and never look back...but we hope you won’t.’
‘We know you won’t,’ added Monica shrewdly. She stood up all of a sudden, pushing her chair back to wall in the process.
Finch also got to his feet, not taking his eyes of Elan. ‘Have a think about what we said.’ They made a swift exit.

Nineteen years ago

Elan Greene looked around the dingy little rented office, unable to prevent a sense of disappointment creeping up her spine. She didn’t know what she had expected exactly but, after Monica’s brilliant performance at her hearing, effortlessly ensuring Elan’s acquittal, she had pictured them working somewhere slightly more glamorous. However, she had come back here without any reservations about what she was getting herself into, and she wasn’t going to let first impressions destroy her chances of making something of her life.
‘So, basically, I just answer the phone?’ It wasn’t long before she had more reason to doubt.
‘Pretty much,’ Finch shrugged. ‘If we’re both busy, just take a message. For now, that’s just about it. We’ll find some other things for you to do...’
He trailed off, scratching the back of his head. Elan looked at him in total disbelief. Was he really the man she had met just under a year ago? The man who had inspired her to turn her life around...make a difference to the world...
‘Hang on,’ she was barely able to keep the animosity out of her tone. ‘You’re telling me you singled me out, got me off GBH charges- and attempted murder- so you could make me your phone jockey?!'
Finch looked at her blankly and shrugged again. ‘We’d prefer to call you a secretary, but if you really insist...’
He started to laugh but stopped abruptly at Elan’s expression of silent ferocity.
‘Well, I’d better leave you to it.’ He moved his hand towards her shoulder then seemed to think better of it. ‘If I need anything setting on fire, I’ll let you know.’
He moved slowly around to the only other cubicle, opposite Elan’s, and busied himself on his laptop, stealing glances at her every few minutes. Elan slumped back in her uncomfortable chair, and sighed, waiting for the phone to ring.
For several weeks, this was pretty much her job description: waiting for the phone to ring. When it occasionally did, it was either a wrong number or some trivial business that was handled frustratingly quickly by Finch. A lot of the time, she didn’t know whether she liked Finch or not. He had never shown anything close to the compassion he had displayed on their first encounter, but he had his good moments. He had a great sense of humour, when he wanted to, and could make Elan laugh at the drop of a hat. Most of their time spent in the office went by in silence, with Elan tediously doodling or drumming her fingers on the desk and Finch absorbed in the work on his screen, the majority of which was still of an unknown nature to Elan. However quite often, seemingly on a whim, he would strike up a conversation with her that lasted hours. Elan couldn’t even remember what most of the conversations were about, but she was simply happy to listen to him talk, laugh and smile.
But as her friendship with Finch- or Jacob, as she now knew him- grew, so did her frustration. She saw very little of Monica. What Elan did see of her employer was simply through spying on her through the half-closed blinds of her office. Whatever Monica Drake was doing in there, it became of less and less interest to the young secretary as the weeks ground by. Elan just wished that she could be given a little more responsibility. She didn’t care what it was- going on coffee runs, filing invoices- anything sounded better than just sitting in her chair all day. Anything...

‘You can’t do it! You can’t exploit her like that!’ Jacob’s voice was raised in anger. Elan stopped in her tracks immediately. It was late evening and she had just popped back into the office to retrieve her forgotten keys. The blinds of Monica’s office were shut tight, but she could see the silhouettes of two people moving behind them. The rest of the office was dark. ‘I won’t let you do it-’
‘Maybe you should let her make her own decisions,’ the reasoning voice of Monica was amazingly level in comparison. ‘She’s a grown woman.’
‘Don’t give me that!’ Jacob fired back at her. ‘You’ve been planning this since day one-’
‘Of course I was!’ Monica cut in. ‘You really think we hired her to sit at that desk all day, drumming her fingers and flirting with you.’
The last comment stung Elan, and she was sure that it had stung Jacob. It had occurred to her that her feelings towards Jacob had moved beyond platonic (she had spent sleepless nights hoping his for her had done the same) but she had always strived to keep their workplace relationship as professional as possible. It also struck her as odd that Monica could notice at all, given she spent most of the day shut up in her office like a recluse.
‘She is a serious asset to what we’re trying to achieve here,’ Monica was saying.
‘And what exactly is that now, Monica?’ Jacob demanded bitterly. ‘We’re supposed to help these people, legally and legitimately, not force them to-’
‘No one’s forcing anyone to do anything.’ Monica’s voice elevated for the first time, if only by a couple of decibels. ‘You have to consider that handing out free legal representation might not be enough anymore. Especially after Preston passes NESA...’
Elan gulped. She had been following Preston’s antics on the news. Now that Neo Evolutionaries- or NEOs - were a reality, many up and coming political figures were attempting make their careers by proposing measures to ‘address the problem’. At the forefront of these campaigns was the ambitious young senator, Andrew Preston, with his proposed “Neo Evolutionary Security Act” or “NESA”.
‘...we can’t realistically expect to protect these people in the courtroom anymore,’ Monica went on bluntly. ‘We have to give them another option and Elan can provide that.’
There was no longer any doubt that they were talking about her. Elan had been sure from the moment she began eavesdropping. Now it was confirmed, a strong mixture of feelings suddenly raced through her mind. The battle for first place was fought between delight that Monica wanted more from her than secretarial work, and anger that they had been stringing her along this whole time...keeping her in the dark and whispering behind her back. This disappointment was aimed mostly at Jacob, with whom she had thought she held a mutual trust- she had confided in him more than once.
Until now, Monica had simply been her boss. Until now, in her mind, it had been Jacob who had rescued her from that interrogation room. But it seemed she had been misled...or perhaps she had simply misled herself. Monica was the one who had found Elan. She was the one who had insisted on hiring her. From the conversation that followed, it became harder for Elan to convince herself that, if Jacob had had his way, she wouldn’t be in a prison cell right now.

The three of them ascended the gloomy stairwell in silence. Elan could hear the rain falling heavily outside, and could almost feel the damp penetrating the walls of the rundown apartment block.
The journey here had been an awkward one. Jacob drove and Monica sat next to him, an uncomfortable silence filling the void between them. In the backseat, Elan had tried to act oblivious to their unspoken conflict, trying to distract herself with the buildings and cars flashing past her window. But she had a feeling they both knew well of her grasp of the situation. It was the first time she had ever been asked to accompany them on an errand out of the office, but she hadn’t questioned it in the slightest. Perhaps they knew she had listened in on their heated exchange of three days ago, but if they did, they had given no indication of it.
Jacob had lifted his hand, about to knock on the door of 33A, but Monica held him back. She quickly took Elan’s arm and pulled her aside, a few metres down the dark hallway, fixing Elan with an earnest stare that conveyed nothing but the uttermost sincerity. The older woman looked apprehensive, but started to speak quickly, before she could think twice.
‘Before we go inside, there’s something I have to ask of you, Elan.’ Monica sighed deeply. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been- well- entirely honest with you...about my motives for employing you. You see-’
‘I know what you want me to do,’ Elan interrupted her before she could go any further. She gulped. ‘I’m ok with it.’
‘I’m not sure if you realise quite what I’m asking-’
‘I’m not stupid,’ Elan fixed Monica with her own stare, of defiance. ‘I know you didn’t hire me to be a secretary. The phone rings about twice a day, and my organisational skills didn’t exactly make it onto my résumé... If my ability can help people get their lives back, I’m happy to use it wherever I can.’
Behind her, she heard Jacob groan quietly, but she ignored him. Monica just stared at the mature 20-year-old woman before her, apparently for once, at a loss for what to say.
‘Well I guess that clears that up then doesn’t it,’ Jacob practically snarled. Without looking at either of them, he rapped sharply on the door three times.

‘Are you kidding me?!’ The aggressive woman glared at Jacob, both amused and irritated. ‘I sent my co-worker flying out of a ten-storey window with a flick of my wrist! I’m lucky I got bail, no judge is going to let me walk...’
‘But you saved his life as well, Mrs Dawson’ Jacob protested. ‘No one survives that kind of fall without help. So what, you lashed out in anger? Under normal circumstances, that would be entirely forgivable. But you just manifested, you can’t be expected to control your ability in the blink of an eye. It took me over eighteen years to work out how to control mine. You made a mistake, but you made up for it seconds later. The jury would see your side-’
The forty-something office worker laughed shrilly and shortly, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. ‘I think your faith in the system might be misplaced, Mr Finch. Any reasonable jury would acquit me, I’m sure. But a reasonable jury just doesn’t exist for people like us.
‘I saw on the news yesterday,’ she continued in a defeated tone. ‘They finally passed NESA. If that Preston has his way, we’ll all be behind bars by the end of the month. If I were you, Mr Finch, I’d stop worrying about me and start looking over your own shoulder.’
Still, Finch persisted: ‘There is no charge for our representation, Mrs Dawson, if you’d just consider-’
‘You’re wasting your time!’ Mrs Dawson snapped angrily. ‘All of you, just get out, and stop wasting mine.’
Monica gave Elan a pleading look, and the latter stepped forward without hesitation.
‘Mrs Dawson, there is...another possibility,’ she began uncertainly. ‘Another way for you to get your life back...’
The woman turned her head slowly, regarding the youngest of her visitors with interest. ‘And what would that be then, dear?’
Elan glanced at Monica, who gave her a reassuring nod, so she proceeded. ‘What if there was a way of removing your abilities?’
Mrs Dawson shook her head thoroughly. ‘If you’re talking about that new drug they’ve developed- Amphetamine Toxi-whatever- you can forget it. I wouldn’t take anything with a Harnex label in a million years.’
‘No, ma’am, I’m not talking about ATB,’ said Elan. ‘I’m talking about making this all go away, right here right now...I can make you normal again.’
‘Oh really?’ The woman was clearly interested but still sceptical. ‘Well, if you think you can do it then give it a shot. I never wanted this thing in the first place.’ She held her thin hands aloft, glaring angrily at her pale and creased palms.
Elan moved forward and took both hands into her own grasp. ‘Think about something nice, ma’am,’ she told the nervous telekinetic gently. ‘This is going to hurt.’

Sixteen Years Ago

Manhattan

‘It just feels like we’ve lost sight of who we are.’
Elan, with her head resting on his chest, felt it rise an inch or two as he sighed heavily. They were lying cosily on the sofa in Jacob’s apartment: Elan had moved in not long after their relationship had officially begun, just over half a year ago. The months they had spent together like this had unquestionably been the happiest of her life.
‘We set up Mayfield to try and help people in trouble,’ Jacob was saying, ‘people who no one else would help. What we do these days...it just feels like cheating.’
‘You mean what I do,’ Elan stated defensively.
He didn’t respond.
‘We’re just giving people another option,’ she went on. ‘It’s up to them if they want it.’
‘Just happens that everyone does want it,’ said Jacob sourly.
Elan shot upright suddenly and glared at him reproachfully. ‘It’s not your place to judge. I remember you telling me how you used to feel as a kid. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have taken the easy way out if you’d had the opportunity back then.’
For the second time, he didn’t have a reply for her. They lay there silently for a few more moments before he finally spoke.
‘I think there’s something Monica isn’t telling us,’ he said neutrally. Out of his vision, Elan frowned nervously. Although she wasn’t privy to any information that Jacob wasn’t, she had known there was something going on for months. Monica had simply told Elan to trust her, and she did.
Elan wasn’t oblivious to the irony of the situation she found herself in. Whereas three years ago she had felt humiliated and betrayed by Jacob for leaving her in the dark about the real reason for her recruitment, she was now the one keeping secrets from him. But there was a reason she hadn’t said anything: frankly, she agreed with Monica...that is if she was doing what Elan thought. The national climate had changed: Preston’s smear campaigns had installed budding fear of their kind in the population and NESA placed all sorts of restrictions on their movement and everyday activity. Despite the compulsory registration set in place by NESA of a manifested ability; both she and the government knew there were countless more out there...disasters waiting to happen. History told them that only a single event was required to change everything. For a while now, the political and public tension had been building. Everyone knew it was coming...it was just a matter of how soon.
‘You’re being paranoid,’ she told him, trying her best to sound casual. ‘Monica’s always been about justice; she’s still the same person she was four years ago.’

Bogotá, Colombia

Hector Rodriguez eyed his opponents warily, before glancing briefly at his hand once again. He had given them all good cards, so he was sure they were feeling confident. As long as he could keep them feeling that way, he would win both cash and drugs. Then he could make his exit.
But something in the corner of his eye was making him feel more edgy by the second. The rest of the players at the table were known to him: two hefty drug cartels, the leader of a local gang and a couple more lowlife gamblers. Hex had never seen the American woman before though, neither at a poker table nor anywhere else in his life. She was about thirty, business-like and attractive. For the duration of the game, she had hardly spoken a word, only opening her mouth to indicate her bet. She held an expression of quiet confidence on her face and, for some reason she persisted in throwing knowing glances at Hex from across the table every minute or so. It was putting him off.
‘Yo! Rodriguez!’ The cartel sat next to him, by the name of Rico, waved a dark hand in front of Hex’s face. ‘Wakey wakey! You in or not?’
‘Yeah, sorry,’ he muttered awkwardly, snapping to his senses. He quickly concluded that the American was simply trying to psych him out. He wasn’t going to let it work. ‘I’m in.’
Casually, he threw a couple of black chips onto the small pile in the centre of the table. Rico did the same, the rest folded. They all stared at the newcomer, who smiled wryly and placed her chips prudently next to Hex’s.
After half and hour or so, the collection of chips grew substantially bigger. Neither Rico nor the American was giving any ground, but that suited Hex perfectly. He knew he couldn’t lose...
But still she persisted with her occasional off-putting glances in his direction, and they were becoming more and more urgent. He caught her nod slightly in the direction of Rico and the other cartel, and dragged her index finger across her own throat in a telling manner. Her eyes widened for brief instant then she returned to eying her cards. The silent exchange went unnoticed by the rest of the players, but Hex’s heart was now pounding hard against his ribs. This was beyond bluffing now: she was trying to warn him. But how could she possibly now that he was being set up? More importantly, how did he know he could trust her?
He made a snap judgement and the room around them blurred for half a second. The thugs looked uneasy: all of them had experienced the slightly nauseating sensation, but none wanted to acknowledge or admit it. Meanwhile, Hex’s message had been passed successfully to the American. The Jack of Spades that had been sitting comfortably at the end of her straight had been replaced by an Ace of Diamonds with words scrawled on that read: How do you know this is a setup?
He observed carefully through his peripheral as she took the card beneath the table and wrote her rapid reply. The room swam again, and the Ace was back in Hex’s hand, with a new message, in neat handwriting, below his: You have to trust me. If you want to live, get out of this game and meet me out back in five.
Hex either had to trust her or take the risk: he couldn’t chance another distortion, knowing that the cartels were already suspicious from the first couple. He pondered for the few moments he had before the bet came back to him. Every pair of eyes at the table were focused on him, the eyes of the American pleading, Rico’s impatient and unforgiving. Hex made his choice, dropping his cards face down on the table and getting to his feet.
‘Bathroom,’ he muttered quickly, heading straight for the door.

‘OK, who the hell are you?!’ he hissed in broken English, cornering the mysterious woman in the alley behind the villa.
‘Someone who wants to keep you breathing,’ she replied in perfect Spanish. ‘You’re a very talented poker player, Mr Rodriguez, but however good cards you gave yourself, there was no way you were going to win at that table.’
‘You knew I was fixing the deck-?’
‘Card-counting in just one of my innate skills, Mr Rodriguez,’ she said slyly, relaxing as Hex backed off slightly. ‘And I know that you have more than a few yourself. Unfortunately, so does my country’s government...they’ve been watching you for some time.’
‘You work for the fucking United States Government!’ he yelled accusingly.
‘No, Mr Rodriguez. I work for a private law firm,’ she corrected him calmly. ‘My name is Monica Drake and I’m here to give you a proposition.’
‘Yeah right,’ he sneered. ‘What kind of proposition?’
‘You can either stay here, in your current life, ripping off Cartels and shifting coke into Panama,’ she ignored his expression of dumb shock at the amount she knew about his trade. ‘Or, you could come and work for us. I assure you; we could put your abilities to far better use.’
‘And what do you do exactly?’ he demanded grudgingly.
‘We help people. People like you and me.’
Hex laughed suddenly. ‘Hang on a sec. You’re an American law firm? And you want to hire a drug smuggler from Colombia. You’ve got to be kidding me-’
‘Until recently, Mr Rodriguez,’ she said calmly, ‘I was happy with the level of protection that we could provide people on a purely legal front. Now... I think it appropriate to say that we’re branching out.’

Fifteen years ago

St Mark’s Hospital, Upper Manhattan

‘You seem a lot better,’ Lola made a show of fiddling with the monitors by the bed, when really she had no clue what any of it meant. She glanced down at the pale little girl, who smiled meekly up at her. ‘I don’t think you need to be here much longer, Tina.’
‘Am I really better?’ Tina sounded hopeful, yet uncertain. ‘My mum still cries when she visits and dad never looks at me.’
‘Well...Leukaemia is very nasty, Tina, your parents were very worried about you. But they’ll pick you up soon, and your life can go back to normal. Don’t you want that?’
The girl nodded enthusiastically, but her eyes betrayed her sadness. ‘I won’t see you anymore will I? After I go, I mean...’
‘You can come and visit whenever you like, Tina. Whenever you like,’ Lola pulled the little girl into a gentle hug. When she pulled a way, she saw tears remained in the young girl’s eyes. She didn’t believe her. ‘Tina, I promise you we’ll see each other again. And so you know that I’ll keep my promise, I’ll tell you a secret...something no one else knows.’
Over the last words, Lola lowered her voice in a meaningful manner, beckoning Tina closer to her. ‘I’m the one who made you better,’ she said in a hushed whisper into the girl’s ear.
Tina stared at her in a mixture of shock and wonder, but then her expression changed to one of panic when she caught sight of something over Lola’s shoulder.
‘Nurse Sanchez?’ Lola jumped to her feet, and turned to see two tall men in dark suits standing at the foot of Tina’s bed. They looked like they were from the government, and this made her feel uneasy. But she could hardly deny her identity: her name was clearly printed on the plastic badge pinned to her scrubs. She nodded weakly.
‘I’m Agent Staunt and this is Agent Carson,’ said the slightly shorter of the two. He had a completely neutral expression on his face, so Lola had no idea whether she was in trouble or not. ‘We’re from AUTHORITY.’
They both flashed they’re ID badges and returned them to their jacket pockets almost simultaneously. Lola had never heard of AUTHORITY but they looked authentic, which didn’t make her feel any better. She remained silent.
‘If you don’t mind, we’d like to take you in, just to ask you a few questions. Routine procedure,’ he made no effort to sound reassuring as he recited this rehearsed speech. ‘Please come with us.’
‘Hang on...’ Lola spoke for the first time. ‘What’s this about? I’d like to call my lawyer.’ She didn’t have a lawyer, but it felt like the right thing to say, in the circumstances.
‘I assure you, ma’am, you won’t be needing legal representation. It’s a routine procedure,’ he said again. Lola couldn’t help thinking ‘procedure for what?’ When she didn’t move an inch, the taller agent stepped forward, menacingly.
‘I’m afraid this isn’t up for negotiation, Miss Sanchez,’ he said threateningly, taking her upper arm into a vice-like grip. ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way.’
As Lola was escorted out, the men either side of her as if she were some sort of criminal; she kept her head down in shame. But when she chanced a look up, she saw there was little reason to hide her face. Barely anyone even acknowledged the strange situation, let alone asked her what was going on. Their faces gave away their discomfort, but they did nothing, acting as if all was normal and going about their business. But then as she passed the nurse’s station, she saw a couple of them give her looks of contempt, even disgust. What was going on? Why was she being treated this way?
‘Wait! Please,’ she suddenly made an effort to stop, but was shoved forwards by her captors. ‘Please, I have a daughter... Why are you doing this to me?’
‘Half the kids in that ward were terminally ill, Nurse Sanchez,’ the formidable agent on her left hissed in her ear, tightening his hold on her arm. ‘Did you really think your little miraculous antics would go unnoticed? Did you think we wouldn’t find out?’
‘I don’t understand,’ Lola was almost sobbing at this point, as they dragged her towards the exit. ‘All I’ve done is make them better, heal them. I-I don’t know how I do it...it just happens! Please, I haven’t hurt anybody!’
‘Not yet, you haven’t. We’re here to make sure that you never do...’

NEO Holding Facility, Somewhere Outside of Montréal

The two prison guards, each with a Kalashnikov slung around their neck, strode purposefully alongside the fence, oblivious to the three figures crouching mere feet away on the other side. Elan saw the patrol as if through a thick haze, the already dim light obscured by Hex’s distortion of the space around them. Their crunching footsteps in the deep snow also seemed muffled and indistinct by the time they reached her ears.
As soon as the men had turned the corner out of sight, both she and Hex looked expectantly at their new companion: a young woman, perhaps two years Elan’s junior.
‘We’re good to go,’ Hannah Cadillero assured them. ‘Next patrol hits in 4 minutes.’
‘Ok. Greene,’ The Colombian turned to Elan, as the air around them recalibrated to normal. ‘Time to work your magic...’
Elan cracked her knuckles with purpose, and moved her palms towards the chain link fence. Blue-white sparks jumped the short distance between metal and flesh, before they touched and Elan pumped as much current as she could into the high voltage security fence. It didn’t take long before two simultaneous cracks could be heard, 100 yards in either direction.
Elan relinquished her grip and turned to the others. ‘Right, let’s move.’
Once over the fence, it was a short sprint to the adjacent fire escape, where he would be waiting for them. The three of them hugged the wall, Hex glancing nervously at his watch. Their head-to-toe black clothing would help them none under the glare of the arc lights at the perimeter, reflecting intensely off the snow-covered ground, dazzling them.
‘We got 30 seconds till the next patrol hits us,’ he hissed at Elan. ‘Your boyfriend better be here.’
‘He will be,’ Elan muttered confidently. She was not feeling so inside, but he had never let her down before.
‘We’re made in 10,’ Hannah looked fixatedly at the spot in which the guards would appear any second.
‘He’ll be here,’ Elan repeated with the same assurance. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
To her eternal relief, a metallic click emanated from inside and the fire door swung open. The three of them rushed inside, and the fourth frantically shut the exit behind them. As Jacob turned to face them, he was assaulted by Elan, who flung her arms around him and kissed him manically on the lips.
‘You fucking git!’ She whispered harshly in his ear. ‘Don’t ever do that to me again.’

Coms01 says: We’re in...

HQ says: You’re cutting it fine. Listen, we have a problem with the alarms...

Coms01 says: I can’t hear anything

HQ says: Yes, you’re ok, for now. But the server updates every hour.

Coms01 says: Shit. How could we have missed that?

HQ says: The schematics we stole must be outdated, it didn’t show up. But it shortens your window considerably.

‘What is it?’ Elan demanded, as she finally released herself from Jacob’s arms, noticing the anguished look on Hannah’s face.
‘We’ve hit a snag with the system hack. It’s going to shut Monica out in twenty minutes.’
‘Fuck,’ Hex threw Jacob an anxious glance. ‘We’d better move then. Finch, lead the way.’

The facility was only Priority Three: an easy target, which was largely why Monica had chosen it. This meant that none of the prisoners were kept isolated and they were all under fairly light sedation: a simple employment of beta blockers had allowed them to plant a cognisant Jacob inside.
Of their team, only Elan and Cadillero knew why Cell Block D in particular had been chosen. This block just happened to house a certain prisoner, the skills of which Monica had gone to great lengths to seek. She knew Jacob would never have gone for the plan if he had known it was primarily a recruitment operation. It fractured Elan’s heart a little each time Monica requested that she deceive him, which seemed increasingly often in recent times. However, if the future of their resistance depended on it, Elan would never question it.

HQ says: Tell Greene Row FF Prisoner 5/11

Coms01 says: What about the rest of them?

HQ says: Forget them, we only have time for the healer.

Coms01 says: We can’t just leave them!

HQ says: The objective was Aston. Anyone else was a bonus. I’m not going to let you get killed carrying out pointless heroics. Get the healer, get out!

Hannah relayed the message to Elan, who immediately set off with quick pace and determination. The wireless then turned to the two men, looking uncomfortable. They both stared at her quizzically, waiting for Monica’s orders. When none came, Jacob demanded impatiently, ‘And we’re standing here because?!’
Hannah gulped, fighting back her own impulses to relay Monica’s orders with conviction.

Elan darted between the rows of unconscious men and women, her torch held aloft to illuminate the small serial codes pinned to each prisoner’s hospital gown: their only protection against the stark coldness of the unheated building. So this was Preston’s “humane” solution to the detaining problem, was it? Elan repressed the anger that her veins had rushed to her head on a wave of warm blood, concentrating on the printed numbers occasionally falling under the beam of torchlight. Eventually she caught sight of 5/08 and moved quickly past two more beds, halting next to that of Prisoner 5/11: Steven Aston.
As she was setting about disabling the IV drip feeding itself into the forearm of the ashen-faced man in his early thirties, two stray thoughts sneaked into her brain. Firstly, she was completely alone and unchecked, and secondly, she was surrounded by unconscious NEOs. She stopped dead in her actions, her fingers trembling with a mixture of excitement and terror. Most of these people likely felt exactly the same way as all those Mayfield clients she had helped. Was there really a difference? Where did morals really play into any of this? Elan hadn’t asked for her ability, and neither had any of these people. It just happened Elan’s afforded her the power to relieve a person of their unwanted burden. It was her right, surely? The right that nature had given Elan by way of giving her this gift. Who was there to question that? Who could tell her what she could and couldn’t do?
‘What are you doing?’
Elan’s heart skipped a beat. Jacob’s wary voice penetrated the recesses of her subconscious, from which suddenly escaped the knowledge that what she was considering was wrong. She quickly removed her flat palms from the prisoner’s forearm and continued removing his IV, as if she had never ceased.
‘Monica wants this man: he’s a priority,’ she said, attempting to sound authoritative. But her voice faltered ever so slightly, and Jacob knew her too well. Thankfully, though, he didn’t have time to respond before Aston’s eyes began to flicker open.
‘Where am I?’ he croaked.
‘Somewhere you don’t want to be,’ Elan told him firmly. ‘And if you want to get out, you have to do exactly what we say. Do you understand me?’
Groggily yet clearly indicating his cooperation, the man nodded and sat up. Avoiding Elan’s eyes, Jacob hoisted Aston’s arm around his shoulder and supported him in the wake of Elan’s rapid strides.
‘Where the hell are the others?!’ Elan panicked, seeing the vacated space by the door through which they had entered.
‘Take a right,’ Jacob instructed her from behind. Before long, Aston was capable of moving without his aid, and Jacob took the lead.
‘Where are we going?’ Elan demanded, almost jogging to keep up with his increased gait.
‘We don’t all have time to get over the fence-’
She cut his explanation short: ‘What are you talking about?! We’ve planned this weeks ago!’
‘The plan’s changed, ok?’ he said firmly, avoiding her eyes. ‘Hannah updated her schematics: she’s found another way out.’
‘Why the fuck would Monica change the plan now...?’ Elan demanded angrily, but faltered, breathless as the answer appeared before her. Ahead of them, watching Hannah pace curiously by the solid impenetrable concrete wall, was a bustle of people, each sporting an identical gown to the one worn by Aston.
Jacob immediately addressed Hex, requesting an update on their situation.
‘She’s locating it now,’ Hex told him quickly. ‘Once I know where it is, I can warp it.’
Jacob nodded, and stood nervously with folded arms.
‘Got it!’ Hannah suddenly exclaimed, running her hand down an indistinct part of the wall. When she caught sight of Elan, she gave her an uneasy nod.
It took Elan a few seconds to recompose herself.
‘Jacob, you can’t do this! You can’t just-’
‘Save these people’s lives?’ he finished for her, still not deigning to look her in the eye. As he roared at his partner, the space around them blurred and flickered. ‘I’m doing what I...what everyone knows is right. It’s too late to go back.’
The escapees had already filed into the newly appeared tunnel, and Elan and Jacob were left alone in the cold, dark corridor, staring daggers at each other. In the heat of the moment, they almost forget where they were...the situation they were in.
‘You two coming or what?!’ Hannah shouted, already out of sight down the unused sewage outlet. Repressing her surging emotions, Elan grabbed his hand and ducked inside.

We have a red alert in Delta, I repeat Delta!

Hannah slowed up. Elan and Jacob swiftly caught up with her.

This is not a drill! All units, we have escaped inmates from Delta. Everyone on red alert now!

‘What is it?!’
‘Err, we’d better get moving.’

They slowed up in a small clearing, Hex and Hannah performing a quick head count. Elan looked down at her hands: Aston’s blood was still warm on them. Eyes wild and pale face flushed with anger, she turned to Jacob and slapped him hard across the face. He didn’t protest.
‘Do you have any idea what you’ve done?’ She screamed, pausing to catch her breath.
‘Keep your voice down, you idiot!’ he hissed at her.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Elan made no attempt to dial down the volume. ‘Three people are dead thanks to you! Innocent people!’
‘You think I’m stupid? This would never have happened if you and Monica hadn’t lied to us all!’ Out of Jacob’s eye line, Hannah looked guiltily at the snowy ground. He was clearly unaware of her part in the deception. ‘She knew the server updated from the start!’
‘You don’t know that!’ Elan retorted.
Jacob ignored her, turning to face the other two members. ‘This was never a rescue mission, it was a recruitment operation. She put us all in danger, for what? Some interesting power that took her fancy?’
‘Aston was a healer, don’t you get it?! We needed him!’ Elan stamped the ground and clenched her fists. ‘But you had to go and be the hero, didn’t you?! You never think about the big picture.’
‘Don’t talk to me about the big picture,’ Jacob’s eyes flashed with anger, ‘I’ve seen more than you could possibly imagine.’
‘There you go again, acting the all-knowing oracle! But you didn’t see this coming did you? We all risked our lives for this, and now it was all for nothing.’
‘Nothing? Look around you, Elan,’ he spread his arms, indicating the confused and frightened faces, hugging themselves for warmth. ‘We saved them. They’re free because of us...’
‘Free to freeze to death,’ Elan spat bitterly.
Jacob opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly stopped short, eyes cast down, directed past Elan, oblivious.
‘That’s right, the penny finally drops!’ she jeered sarcastically, thinking herself the victor of the argument. The other three had spotted what she had not. ‘Oh yeah, Aston was a healer, wasn’t he? That might have come in handy.’
‘We don’t need Aston,’ Jacob shot at her suddenly. Elan finally cottoned on, following his gaze. Kneeling on the floor, next to an injured boy, was a woman of thirty, her eyes tightly shut in intense concentration. Blood had been steadily dripping onto the frosty ground from the boy’s leg, the redness soaking into the sparkling ice crystals. But now, it had stopped. The woman slowly parted her hands from his skin. Where before had been a nasty-looking bullet wound, courtesy of the sniper from the guard tower, was clean healthy flesh, unblemished but for severe goose bumps. The boy was shivering fiercely, but seemed unharmed.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Me?’ The girl jumped in fright at suddenly being addressed by the tall Latin American man. Her quiet voice was squeaky and panicked. ‘L-Lola... Lola Sanchez.’
‘Are you a healer, Miss Sanchez?’
‘I...I can heal people, yes,’ Lola seemed less afraid, realising she was not being rebuked for her actions. ‘But I’m no healer.’ There was a dark undertone to these last words, one of which none of them would have guessed her timid voice was capable.
‘Don’t try and tell me you saw that coming,’ Elan warned a smug-looking Jacob through gritted teeth.

Jacob and Elan’s apartment building, Manhattan

‘I know what you nearly did, you know.’
Elan looked at Jacob apprehensively. This statement had seemed to come out of nowhere. For several minutes now, they had been content to stand side by side, silently looking down upon the island of Manhattan from the rooftop of their apartment building. Since the breakout in Montréal, he had never mentioned once the moment of madness that he had witnessed from Elan. She had been starting to think that perhaps he hadn’t actually realised, but knew deep down that he was all too aware of what she had nearly done. For this reason, she didn’t even attempt to deny it.
‘I forgave you a long time ago, don’t worry,’ he told her hastily, when she remained silent. ‘But I’m worried about you, Elan, I’m worried about what this is turning you into. I can’t lose you-’
‘You’re not going to lose me!’ she span to face him, staring at him defiantly, daring him to make another such ludicrous suggestion. He didn’t, instead wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her close to him.
‘How many abilities have you taken now?’ His tone was neither accusatory nor condoning. ‘Twenty, thirty?’
Elan didn’t answer, not out of ignorance or even guilt, just because she couldn’t bring herself to put it into numbers. ‘I don’t like what it’s doing to you, Elan. You think I don’t notice? It’s like every time you gain an ability, you lose a part of yourself...’
‘I can’t help who I am, Jake,’ Elan hated how vulnerable he could make her feel. ‘I accept you, the way you are. You think I don’t hear you, every night, shouting out in your sleep?’ Jacob looked uncomfortable. ‘Maybe we should talk about that.’
‘We’re talking about you-’
‘Who’s Danielle? The name you call out, who is she?’ She cut across him suddenly, her eyes glowing fiercely. He opened his mouth to respond, but shut it quickly. This didn’t help. ‘She’s the one you really want, isn’t she? But you had to settle for poor deranged Elan. Does it make you feel better being with someone more unbalanced than you?’
‘This is exactly what I’m talking about!’ he shot at her. ‘You’re saying these things, and you don’t even mean them. You just want to hurt me, instead of admitting the truth. I love you, Elan, but it seems like we’re growing further and further apart.’
‘I don’t know what you want me to say...’ she stammered, fighting back the tears in her eyes.
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he turned towards her and took a small step backwards, retrieving something tucked inside his jeans pocket. When Elan caught sight of the small object, her heart leapt in her mouth: it was a small silver engagement ring, immensely beautiful, with a tiny blue sapphire set simply against the gleaming metal. It wasn’t the most magnificent jewel, but Elan loved it all the more for it. For a moment, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She had never thought for one second that he had been leading to this.
He remained standing, knowing that she would hardly appreciate him going down on one knee. Fuck tradition, he would always say. ‘I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Elan. Forget the Firm, forget Monica, forget everyone else...as long as we’re together, nothing matters. I promise that I’ll never stop loving you...’
The tears that had been building up in Elan’s eyes were now a tiny flood, cascading down her cheeks.
‘But before I can give you this ring, I need you to make me a promise,’ he looked right past her eyes and into her conscience, and she felt herself melt before his gaze, knowing that whatever he asked of her, she would do it. No matter what. ‘I need you to promise you’ll never take another ability. It’s been tearing us apart from the very beginning, Elan, even when we barely knew one another. As long as you’re using your ability, I can’t see a future for us. Can you keep that promise, Elan? For us...?’
Without a second’s hesitation, Elan nodded, barely considering what it meant for her, the consequences it would have upon her way of life. When she felt the ring slide effortlessly onto her finger, and when he pulled her into the seemingly endless euphoric embrace, none of that mattered.

Mayfield Law/The Firm Headquarters, Manhattan

‘I’m not doing it anymore.’
Monica looked briefly up at Elan, her expression neither showing comprehension nor surprise. Elan knew that the other woman had understood her, but from her reaction she could gauge nothing else.
‘What made you change your mind?’ Monica finally said, her eyes still focused upon her computer monitor.
‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ Elan had rehearsed this conversation in her head a thousand times, however the script never failed to be unpredictable with Monica. ‘But I love him, and I made him a promise, and I wouldn’t break that for anyone.’
Again, silence. The young woman stood awkwardly while her employer continued browsing documents on the screen. To give herself confidence, and remind herself why she was doing this, Elan played with the ring on her left hand.
‘OK, I understand.’
Elan opened her mouth, ready with her well-prepared response, but her words fell short. That was it? After all these years, that was all she had to say about it? Elan was almost offended. Monica hadn’t made any attempt to convince her, throwing in the towel before the fight for Elan’s soul had even begun. Had the last 8 years all been for nothing?
‘I-I still want to work here...’ Elan stammered, unsure if Monica really had understood. But Monica always understood, she had come to realise. ‘I’m not quitting.’
‘I know what you’re doing, Elan. You’re doing what you think is right,’ Monica had finally deemed the discussion worthy of her full attention. She stared at Elan over interlocked fingers. ‘Whether your decision proves to be the right one, we will have to wait and see. But for now, I can only thank you for the loyalty and commitment you have shown me. Don’t think I ever took that for granted. And I would hope that he doesn’t either.’
‘He won’t...’ Elan breathed.
Monica smiled and beckoned Elan closer. ‘Can I see the ring?’ Elan walked forward and held out her left hand, unable to repress a sense of vanity. ‘It’s beautiful... So is it going to be Elan Finch then?’
‘Or Greene-Finch... I haven’t decided yet.’
‘Greene-Finch...’ Monica raised her eyebrows, a wry smile on her lips. ‘I like the sound of that. When is it going to be official?’
‘As soon as possible.’ Elan’s heartbeat had calmed to a slow comfortable rhythm once more. This had gone far better than she could have hoped. ‘For people like us, there’s no knowing how much longer you’re going to be around. Whatever happens in this world, it’s the only life we have. We should spend as much of it as we can with the people we love.’
Elan hesitated, unsure of what she was about to say. But Monica read her mind.
‘Don’t worry,’ her mentor laughed. ‘I know... I love you like a daughter, Elan.’

Fourteen years ago

‘We can’t keep this up.’
Hex’s statement was self-contained, but no context was needed. Monica shifted her position, half-sitting on her desk, her arms folded anxiously. It was just the two of them in the office, the atmosphere was tense: both of them seemed to know this conversation had been coming for weeks.
‘Well, Hector, what exactly do you want me to say?’
The Colombian shrugged his broad shoulders. His meek expression became even more sombre. ‘I don’t know. But we can’t expect them to keep putting themselves on the frontline...we’re getting slaughtered out there.’
‘They knew what they were signing up for!’ Monica retaliated.
‘You’ve seen the way it is. It gets worse each passing day,’ Hex caught Monica’s gaze, forcing her to look him in the eye. ‘Think about it: the life of a NEO is something I would only wish upon my enemies, but these people are actively throwing themselves in the line of fire, risking their freedom, which is already compromised at best. They need to know you have a strategy...some sort of plan.’
‘Things have been getting more and more out of control ever since New Mexico.’ Monica sighed, exasperated. ‘The world’s turned on us, Hector. Any friends we may have had disappeared over a year ago, as soon as the incident hit the news. We’re all alone. How can I come up with a plan to get us out of this? Tell me, how?!’
Hex looked taken aback. It was the first time Monica had ever raised her voice to him. Until now, her unwavering calm and collected exterior had seemed her only setting. It scared him to learn that she was still human like the rest of them.
‘Then we’ve reached the end of the road.’ Hector stared blankly at the wall. He couldn’t quite believe these words were coming out of his mouth. ‘We’ve failed. We can’t let anyone else die fighting an unwinnable war. We can’t let these kids keep throwing their lives away in vain.’
‘Most of them didn’t have lives before this! We’ve given them meaning, hope, something to work towards-’
‘Something unattainable,’ Hex muttered bitterly.
‘-what is there without us? We are the resistance. The only thing standing between AUTHORITY and total dominance. If we just give up the ghost and evaporate, how many more lives will be lost because of it?’
Hex didn’t know how to answer this final question, but fortunately he was saved the task by a loud rap on the door. The ex-attorney and the ex-Cartel stared at each for a few seconds, the unresolved dilemma hanging in the air between them still.
‘Enter,’ Monica called out eventually.
The door crept open, Elan and Lola anxiously stepping into the office. They seemed to sense the conflict that had passed just seconds before. But neither said a word about it.
‘Are we still go for the mission?’ Elan asked tentatively of Monica. The latter looked uneasily at Hex. Monica knew exactly what he was thinking, and she had to force similar thoughts out of her mind. Too much depended on this mission.
‘We proceed as planned.’

Elan burst through the front door, her head turning frantically, eyes scanning for any sign of him. The apartment was quiet and undisturbed. Everything seemed as normal. But Elan’s heart was pounding fast in her chest. She knew there couldn’t be much time left.
She had shocked herself by coming here first. But there hadn’t been a moment’s hesitation in her decision. Whether it was panic or love that had driven her here, instead of back to HQ where she knew she should be right now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting them both out of the city alive.
‘Jake!’ She screamed at the top of her lungs. ‘Jacob! We have to get out of Manhattan!’
The only response was silence. He wasn’t here. But then where the hell could he be? She knew he wasn’t on duty tonight, and he had promised to be here waiting for her return.
Elan’s pacing up and down the room halted instantly when she caught sight of the unsealed envelope lying on the kitchen table. When she inspected it closer, she saw her name written on the back, in her fiancé’s handwriting. Her heart leapt into her mouth, and by the time she had read the first few words, it was beating twice as fast as before.

Throwing herself at the metal fire door, Elan pushed through it and out into the brisk night air. She stopped in her tracks.
Ahead of her, silhouette outlined in the bright lights from the sprawling metropolis below, a man was perched on the low brick wall at the edge of the rooftop. Although his back was to her, she knew the figure all too well.
‘Jake...’ she stammered, barely audible. ‘Jake, what are you doing?’
‘I didn’t think you’d be back for a while.’ His voice was relaxed and unfaltering, as if his current predicament was the most normal thing in the world. ‘I’m guessing everything didn’t go to plan.’
It wasn’t a question, and if it was he didn’t seem interested in the answer.
‘Jacob, they took Lola. I couldn’t stop them.’ Elan took a step forwards.
‘Don’t come any closer, Elan!’ He turned to face her, a chill shooting up her spine when he almost lost his footing on the ledge. Jacob didn’t seem to notice.
‘We have to leave now, get out of the city. Please, Jacob, listen to me! Lola will tell them everything, we’re not safe here!’
‘And what about Lola?’ Jacob didn’t need to wait for her reply: he could read her like a book. ‘You took her ability, didn’t you? Don’t lie to me! You knew she was as good as dead. You broke your promise...’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It just happened!’
‘It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does,’ he peered over his shoulder, down into the inviting abyss. ‘You weren’t supposed to be here for this, Elan. I didn’t want you to see what you’d driven me to.’
‘What I...?’ Elan’s words were breaking as soon as they formed. ‘All I’ve ever done is love you, Jacob!’
‘It’s not what you’ve done, Elan,’ he shut his eyes tight, squeezing back the tears. ‘It’s what you’re going to do...what you’re going to become.’
‘I’m only ever what you make me, you know that!’ Elan forced back the tremors in her voice. ‘I was nothing without you, and I’ll be nothing again if you jump.’
‘That’s not true, and I think you know it. Elan: beautiful, smart, power beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. But you have terribleness in you too, I’ve seen it. I thought I could save you...save us both from that person. I was wrong.’
‘What person?!’ Elan screamed in frustration. ‘I changed everything so we could be together! I’m the same person you fell in love with!’
‘The future is dark, Elan. You think things are bad now, but I have seen what the world becomes, and the person that it turns you into.’ Jacob could barely look her in the face when he said these things. Her expression of betrayal, of total incomprehension, was almost too much to take. But he owed her this at least. They had been through so much together.
‘I can’t take it anymore, Elan. Every night I’m haunted by glimpses of the things you do- unspeakable acts, done in my name! - of a world I barely recognise, and one I definitely don’t want to live in.’
‘I can take it away, Jacob. You don’t have to do this!’ Elan pleaded. ‘I can take away the pain. Just hold my hand and I can make it all go away.’
‘I can’t let you do that,’ Jacob told her firmly. She remembered he had once told her he would rather take his own life than let anyone go through what he had. At the time she had believed him but she had never thought it would come to that. ‘I wouldn’t wish this kind of suffering upon anyone, least of all the woman I love!’
‘I will suffer a thousand times over with you gone from my life,’ Elan sobbed hard, the cold breeze stinging the tears on her cheeks. ‘This isn’t fair! You’re punishing me for things I haven’t even done!’
‘I’m sorry, Elan.’ He knew he couldn’t ever communicate just how sorry he was. She would never understand his reasons, he had seen it. But this was the only way out.
He took a step backwards, disappearing over the edge. But Elan was too quick, her superspeed propelling her to where he fell, her cold hands closing hard around his trailing arm
Elan felt something pass from him, through her fingers and into her being. It was a fuzzy and almost electric sensation, one she was all too familiar with. Her grip slackened, as his weight dragged him towards the concrete 20 storeys below.
‘Please, Jacob, no...no...’ She shook her head desperately, willing him to see sense. ‘Don’t leave me.’ A part of her knew that there was already nothing she could do.
He looked at her one last time, staring into those bright green eyes, and savouring the look of innocence upon her face, knowing it would be the last time anyone would see it. He was happy that it would also be the last thing he ever saw.
Elan’s tenuous grasp on his arm finally broke. She watched in horror as the only tangible thing in her life vanished before her eyes.

The hammering at the door just wouldn’t cease. As much as Elan pressed her eyelids firmly together, she couldn’t keep out the relentless knocking, breaching the very walls of her skull. Her visitor wouldn’t give up.
‘Elan!’ came Monica’s stern voice from the other side of the wood. ‘Elan, I know you’re in there! I’m not leaving until I see you-’
Her words were cut short, as the door was wrenched open, and a grudging Elan stood aside to allow her entry. Before she could stop it, Monica’s arms were wrapped around her. Disdainfully, Elan made a point of not reciprocating the embrace, simply rooting herself to the spot until Monica saw fit to release her. When the older woman eventually did, it was an awkward moment.
Monica made a show of examining the apartment to see if Elan was coping alright, but the latter knew she was simply avoiding her gaze. Eventually though, Monica’s eyes did fall upon something which caused her concern. On the sofa lay an open sports bag, stuffed to the brim with clothes and other essentials.
‘Going somewhere?’ Monica raised her eyebrows.
‘Can’t stay here,’ Elan spoke swiftly.
‘If Lola had given them anything, we’d have known about it by now,’ Monica tried to reassure her. ‘She took our identities to the grave, we have her to thank for our lives-’
‘Don’t you get it?!’ Elan cut across her fiercely. ‘I don’t care about any of that, none of it matters anymore.’ She winced, as a sharp surge of remorse pierced her heart. Somewhere deep down, overshadowed by the pain of losing Jacob, sat a lake of guilt: a reminder of her disturbing lack of faith in Lola. Elan couldn’t imagine what the healer must have endured before they had finally put her out of her misery, and she hadn’t opened her mouth once.
‘Listen to me, Elan. Running away isn’t going to solve anything. You can’t just abandon everything we’ve built over the years. People rely on your leadership.’
‘My leadership?! You’re supposed to be running this resistance, Monica, or did that slip your mind?’ Elan spat bitterly.
‘On paper, maybe,’ Monica conceded. ‘But our members look to you for inspiration, that’s true leadership. You’re their role model, Elan, their symbol! You have a responsibility to this movement!’
‘I didn’t ask for that responsibility!’ Elan growled defensively, throwing a few more items into the bag, and tugging the zip closed.
‘Look at what we’ve achieved, Elan,’ Monica demanded. ‘We started with nothing, and now we have a nationwide resistance. Hundreds of people, all ready and willing to follow whatever orders we give them. How can you turn your back on that?’
‘It’s not enough, Monica!’ Elan told her furiously. ‘I know it, Hex knows it, Jake knew it- we couldn’t prevent the future that drove him to suicide! It just isn’t enough, and it never will be...’
She threw the bag over her shoulder and made a beeline for the open front door. But Monica stepped forwards, blocking her exit.
‘I can’t let you do this, Elan,’ she said defiantly, crossing her arms. ‘I can’t just let you throw away everything we’ve worked towards.’
‘You don’t have a choice!’ Elan screamed at her. ‘I’ve lost everything! There’s nothing here for me anymore... Just get the hell out of my way!’
Monica was knocked sideways into the wall, as if an invisible arm had swept her aside. Elan looked down at her, unable to hide the regret in her eyes. But she had made her choice.
‘And what about your baby, Elan?’ Monica shot at her, playing her final card in desperation. It had the desired effect, Elan’s eyes widened in shock. ‘What about Jacob’s child? Forced to live in the knowledge that his mother was a coward!’
Any thoughts of pity growing in Elan’s mind vanished at these words.
‘I’m doing this for them,’ she whispered, totally impassive, before disappearing in a blur, the door slamming shut behind her.
‘Elan, wait! I’m sorry! Please come back! I can’t do this without you!’ Monica cried out, sorrow and distress bubbling over into her croaking voice. It was no use: she was already long gone. Tears brimming up over her eyelids, Monica slid to the floor, defeated.

My advice is to try and imagine the entirety of that last chapter in black and white, Company Man style. Hope you enjoy it.

Any comments would be greatly appreciated, as I spent a considerable time writing, reading, rewriting and rereading it. Thanks.

Brilliant. Really liked how you did Elan's history. Is there any more to it, or possibly in future flashbacks?

I don' have too many plans for more Elan flashbacks but I want to explore Lola's character alot more than I did there.

For now I am just planning to progress with the modern story, although I'm considering putting in a semi-flashback chapter to explain an unexpected character's change of motives.

What did you think of Jake Finch? Was he what you expected? Good or bad character?

I thought he was a good character And pretty much what I expected, as much thought as I'd given to the previously mysterious "him".

And seeing more of Lola's history would be a good idea. I liked the little you did make of her, she seems to be another of my characters you've done pretty much perfectly.

Tbh, I personally think he comes across as a bit of a shallow character in that chapter. Obviously the story it told revolved far more around Elan, but he was the 2nd key character. I purposely didn't give him too much exploration, for my own reasons, but I wasn't entirely happy with the way he came off over the 22 pages. He just seemed lacking depth, as opposed to missing depth which would later be revealed. I'm not sure...

I'm much happier with Monica's character. I wanted to show that she does have emotions, and motives and reasons for doing what she's doing. She didn't just miraculously appear as head of an organised resistance. Both developed in parallel up to this point.

Lola was a cameo, I had always intended to have her involved in the early Firm, but her own story was way too complex to include. I'm going to do it in the next arc probably, if i do another arc obviously.

22 Pages well read! Great work on both Chapter 16 and 17, and a past viewing finale was a very good idea to sum up Arc 2. It revealed a lot, probably one of the best miniseries chapters I've ever read, even since the BBC days.

I hope that you'll do an Arc 3, but I'll understand if you don't.

Haha, thanks for your comments, but that's no where near the end of this arc! What gave you that impression?

My bad D: with all the action and tensity building up I just sort of guessed, sorry. Glad to hear that Arc 2 isn't done yet though, I love it

I really doubted it'd have ended on a flashback chapter And there's all of Elan's plan with the Harnex weapon to write about still.

I don't think a single thing has been resolved yet. It would be incredibly cheap of me to end it there and announce that I'm finishing it. As for a third arc, I would love to do one and have a few ideas, but for now I'm just concentrating on finishing this one.

There's still about 8 chapters left I think, so hopefully I have enough time to wrap everything up neatly. However, considering the ending I have in mind, I really doubt I'll be able to justify finishing it there.

I'll let you know when it's actually the finale Jake, you won't have to guess!

Ahaa thanks, I need someone to keep my little brain ticking!

Soz for not commenting earlier.

The chapters are great! It definitely got my heart pounding with excitement. At the rate this is going, I think this could possibly be one of the best books i've ever read! You would make a great writer Danny

Thanks, stoked to know you're still reading.

I'm not sure whether to post any new chapters until i've finished the arc, so I know that everything is in place. Hmm, I'll deliberate and then make a decision.

Jeez, this is nostalgic, haven't been on here in an aaaaaage. Great to see the regulars are still posting, and the best stories are still continuing. Just a quick message to let you know, I have three chapters written. Not a lot I know, sorry. But I have decided to finish off the arc, hopefully by the end of the hols, and will be posting the final chapters regularly once I've done so. Keep an eye out.

I'll be watching

Good to see you back!

Hey guys, sorry for being long. I have finished all but the final chapter of Arc Two now. The plan was to completely finish it, before posting them one by one. But I've been really crap and not done any writing in ages with restarting uni and all. Anyway, hopefully you'll be pleased to hear I'm just gonna start posting them now, to give myself a deadline in the hope that it gives me the kick up the arse needed to finish it.

So, the long-(un)awaited chapter 18 will be posted later on today. Once more, apologies for being long. For those left of you still reading, please enjoy! XD

Chapter Eighteen: The Setup

The walls closed in, tighter, constricting her. Wendy couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak, she could barely think. What was happening to her? She thought she had beaten it, finally, she thought she had won. By keeping her nightmares trapped within the mind of another, she had finally broken free of the ability which tormented her. But now the illusions were back, and they were thirsty for blood. The room shrank further, clenching her between its powerful jaws, slowly squeezing the life out of her.
And there were voices, high-pitched timbres, screaming at Wendy, biting into her grey matter. Two figures towered over her, prodding her and toying with her, their glaring eyes huge and full of malice.
‘Tell us now!’ one screeched, the words hissing around the growing chasm in Wendy’s mind. ‘Tell us who sent you! Who ordered you to brainwash me?’
The fog was clearing, and finally Wendy understood. She had been a fool to think she could trick her own mind, and this was her retribution. The tormented had become the tormentor; the one who stood over her was the same woman whose mind had played host to her nightmares during Wendy’s glorious reign of freedom. But Wendy had failed, and now together, they were both back to make her pay.

Anton spun around, right hand halfway to the gun at his hip.
‘Don’t even think about it!’
Three men stepped into the office, each sporting black balaclavas and light machine guns, the barrel of each pointed squarely at Anton’s head. He froze.
‘That’s it,’ said the middle man. ‘Ok now, nice and slowly, unlatch your holster and slide it over.’
Anton complied without apprehension: he knew he had no choice.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘Are you government? Look, I never wanted to be part of any of this. Just...please, just give me the girl and I won’t breathe a word to anyone.’
‘Can’t do that, I’m afraid,’ the man said emotionlessly, crouching slowly to pick up Anton’s holster. Without a moment’s thought, he drew McArthur’s pistol, walked behind Korolov’s slumped figure and shot his body several more times in the back.
Anton gulped, as he was forced to his knees by the other two men. ‘Keep your hands on the back of your head.’ Once again, he complied, grudgingly.
‘What did you do to my partner?’ Anton asked weakly.
The silent men gave no response, however his question was soon answered when two more masked gunmen dragged a drowsy-looking figure into the dead man’s office. It was McArthur, his nose bloody and limbs hanging limply. They threw him on the ground at Anton’s feet He made a move forward to check his condition.
‘Stay where you are!’ The leader growled at him.
Anton looked defiantly into the man’s eyes; they betrayed no sense of pride or guilt in the actions he was taking. The former bodyguard was sure he was a mercenary, a hired assassin with explicit orders to follow. Anton had been forced to work with the likes of such on several occasions during his time in charge of the Secret Service. He knew that sometimes it was essential for the government to disassociate themselves from certain unavoidable operations; it was generally accepted that these contractors were a necessary evil. But could these ones really be on the government’s payroll? Korolov had had no reason to lie in the end. But, try as hard as he might, Anton had no recollection of ever encountering this man before.
The mercenary stepped over McArthur’s sprawled out body, and stood imposingly in front of Anton, his head perhaps reaching 3 or 4 inches higher off the ground. Anton looked once more into those cold impassive eyes, desperate to show that he wasn’t going to be intimidated. But the man didn’t seem to care one way or the other.
‘Hand me your automatic,’ he threw the command over his shoulder, and whichever subordinate he was directing it at seemed to instantly know he was being addressed. The younger merc quickly stepped forward and passed his superior the firearm. It was the sort of weapon Anton was familiar with from his time in the Spetsnaz, although it was clearly a much more advanced version of the light automatic. He quickly registered the faint signs of smoke emanating from the tip of the barrel, a sign of recent discharge: this was the gun that had shot Dmitri Korolov less than a minute ago.
‘The chamber’s empty,’ the merc suddenly offered Anton the weapon, along with a small box of ammunition. ‘Would you mind?’
Anton couldn’t hide his surprise. He knew there were motives behind any action these contractors took, explicit instructions they were required to follow. But, despite this, he couldn’t find any logical reasoning or pattern to their behaviour. He stayed silent, unwilling to even acknowledge the man’s request.
The masked man sighed, turning briefly away from Anton to face his team. ‘Make the call.’ Whilst one of the other mercs pulled out a satellite phone, their leader turned back to Anton. ‘You are familiar with this type of weapon, Mr Demidov?’
Finally, Anton’s frustration broke through his defiant silence. ‘What the fuck does this have to do with anything?!’
‘It’s a simple enough question,’ the man still betrayed no sign of emotion. ‘I’d have thought the reasons behind it irrelevant. You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate here’
Anton kept his mouth shut, thinking of Anya, but still made no move to complete the man’s odd request.
‘We’re ready, sir,’ the man with the sat phone stepped forward and handed it to his superior. ‘No sign of any tracing, the line is clean.’
‘Good,’ the man took the phone in his free hand and inspected it for a moment before swiftly turning his attention back to Anton. ‘What I’m about to show you, Mr Demidov, is a live feed. The video you see is being transmitted in real time and should be treated as very real...’
Suddenly, he held up the phone, the screen inches from Anton’s nose. It took Anton several seconds to properly register what he was seeing but, once he did his entire being was emotionally split in two. The live video, shot on a handheld camera, showed a petrified and very real looking Anya. The picture was zoomed up on her face, white as a ghost, so it filled the screen; Anton could see every detail, every wince of terror, every tear forming on her fragile eyelashes.
Simultaneously, he was shook to his core to see her truly at the mercy of these bastards, and yet bittersweet relief spread through his heart to see her alive. In the space of a second, the situation had become a thousand times more real. This was no longer the sick game in which he had found himself, all the while hoping that none of it was true, hoping that it was just someone’s twisted idea of a joke. The threat was very much there. His god-daughter was in danger, but she was alive and he knew then and there that whatever happened, he would find her and get his revenge on these people.

Amanda’s Manor House, Somewhere in New Jersey

Mary sprinted through the wide old hallways, kicking up age old dust every brief contact with the creaky wooden floors. She had heard the screams and shouts from her position of watch at the front door. They had come from somewhere on the second floor, possibly the lab. Presently, as she hurried towards the source of the ruckus, the raised voices fell silent. She redoubled her pace, and burst through the door to the laboratory, which stood unlocked and ajar. In her time spent at the mansion, the lab had stayed locked and was open only on the occasions when Greenfinch or Amanda would update them on how certain technical parts of the plan were progressing.
‘Anyone in here?’ Her hollow voice projected into the darkness, ricocheting of the unseen metal worktops and panels. Her hands gripped her gun, steadily, and she didn’t make a move.
‘Over here!’ came a male voice from the far side of the room. She immediately recognised it as Elias, and suppressed her internal shudder. Could she not spend one week without some form of confrontation with that bastard? ‘Be a doll and turn the fucking lights on, will you?’
Mary obliged, and unnatural light from the halogen lamps flooded every surface in the moderate-sized laboratory.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ Mary demanded. ‘I heard people shouting. Why are you even in here?’
She could only see the top half of Elias’ face above the work surfaces, which was unusual since the man normally towered at least three feet above her, the fucking giant. He appeared to be kneeling over something…or someone.
‘Could you get your ass over here, I’ve kind of got my hands full.’ The person he was restraining must have made a sudden attempt to escape, but Elias easily kept them pinned to the floor. As Mary snaked her way through the lab benches, the victim of his aggression came into view.
‘Becker!’ she exclaimed furiously. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get off her!’
She tried in vain to shove Elias’ huge form off Jessica’s struggling body, but it barely budged an inch. He had her face down on the shiny laminate floor, with both arms pinned uncomfortably behind her back.
‘Hey, hey!’ Elias complained mockingly. ‘Don’t be so hasty. I caught this little thief red-handed, you know?’
‘Yeah, right? I’d believe that if you didn’t just open your mouth and speak-’
‘It’s true, Mary.’
Mary spun around in surprise, half-raising her weapon, before she recognised Jack standing in the doorway to the lab.
Exasperated, Mary tucked away her pistol. ‘Can someone please explain what is happening here? Is this you guys’ idea of a joke, ‘cause it’s not fucking funny. Not in the slightest.’
‘I wish it was a joke,’ Jack said, shaking his head. ‘I wish I could tell you this was all some big misunderstanding-’
Jessica wriggled about more and more as Jack Partingson approached. ‘You son of a bitch!’ she screamed, her voice wrenched with agony. ‘You sold me out, you fucking piece of shit! You’re supposed to be my partner! I’m your only friend, and you sold me out to these bastards!’
‘Partners in crime!’ snorted Elias, as he easily suppressed her vain attempts to get at Jack.
Presently, Jack turned to Mary. ‘Jess here is a mole. She’s been feeding information to rival organisations for months now. I know what you must be thinking,’ he waved aside Mary’s look of scepticism. ‘I couldn’t believe it at first, but she told me everything herself. Tried to get me in on the act…offered me a pretty generous cut-’
‘You ungrateful jerk! You-’ A hefty cuff round the back of the head from Elias silenced Jessica’s outburst.
Jack kept from looking down at his friend, unable to hide the ounce or so of regret from his expression. ‘She needed my help getting her hands on the brass ring- the formula for Spectar itself. I unlock the lab, she sneaks in and grabs the vial and we make a killing on the black market.’
‘Wasn’t the least bit tempting?’
Jack shook his head, almost in despair. ‘You have no idea. Me and Jess played the banks for years, it’s almost the only thing I know how to do, stealing. But I’m committed to this, and I couldn’t let anything compromise it. I told Becker and we set up this trap.’
Mary stood in silence, still sceptical as to what was really going on. But there wasn’t really a lot out of place in the situation. Jessica had always been arrogant, and seemed to care little about the ultimate goal of their organisation. She wouldn’t put any of this past the young girl.
‘Oh well,’ she sighed. ‘Once a thief, always a thief I guess. Jack, go and tell Amanda everything you just told me. I’m sure she’ll be pleased she’s been left in the dark again.’
Mary gave Jessica a distasteful smirk. ‘Lock her in the basement,’ she told Elias. ‘We’ll wait to see what she wants to do with her.’
As Becker hoisted the girl to her feet, Mary caught the expression of horror on Jessica’s face. Barely audible whimpers of ‘no’ and ‘please’ formed on her lips, as she was dragged limply out of the lab. In a way, Mary’s heart went out to the poor girl. After all, she had only been looking out for number one, a tactic which had always served Mary well in the past. But there was nothing she could do, her fate would be in the decided by Greenfinch.

Every tangible nerve in Chloe’s flesh screamed out in agony.
She was frozen, mid-step, her mouth still half open, but the news she had been ready to deliver had been erased from her memory as she was forced to confront the scene before her.
Her mentor, her teacher, and the woman who was as close to a parent as Chloe had since the disappearance of her true mother… Monica’s figure was slumped forward on her desk, her greying hair spilled out onto her lined face, the pain not yet gone from her wide open eyes, but the life in them had long since flickered and died.
Chloe was hit hard by a wave of short, panicked breaths. It couldn’t be…it just couldn’t. Monica was the embodiment of clairvoyance, nothing and no one could slip past her fine-tuned mind. Over the years, Chloe had come to realise that Monica could do more than just break codes, she could decipher people, interpret the human mind, without the need for telepathy or any such ability. The idea that anyone could break through her multitude of intelligent defences and even lay a scratch on her was not one that Chloe had given any consideration. But here she was, murdered. There was no denying it: the reality was right in front of her.
And with it, Chloe’s world had been turned on its head. Nothing she had ever thought or believed in could stand up in a world where Monica Drake was dead. There was no longer anywhere to run, or hide. The Firm was finished. Chloe remained locked in the doorway of the dark office, her breaths still coming quick and fast, as her brain failed to produce rational thought at the same rate.

‘Last chance, Demidov,’ the chief mercenary’s cold voice broke into Anton’s icy resolve. ‘Reload this firearm, or...well, I don’t think either of us need to hear the end of that sentence.’
Anton breathed heavily, not quite willing to tear his eyes away from the terrified young girl’s gaze. But, eventually, he managed to regain some sense of judgement. Right now, they held all the cards. In this very moment, he could only comply and bide his time, waiting for an opportunity for the tables to be turned. For now, he couldn’t test their willingness to throw away their bargaining chip. After all, could he be sure that he was all that integral to their plans? No, he couldn’t risk Anya’s safety, not until he knew they needed him.
Grudgingly, he grabbed the light machine gun and box of ammunition, and within ten seconds he had fully replaced the clip and thrust it into place. He paused, holding the weapon close to his chest, the wandering realisation suddenly hitting him hard that his prints were now all over the weapon.
The merc clearly assumed Anton was harbouring different ideas. ‘It goes without saying, Mr Demidov, that if my associates don’t hear back from me by-’
Anton saved him the trouble of completing this ultimatum, compliantly holding out the loaded gun for the other man to take. But the mercenary shook his head.
‘We’re not quite done, I’m afraid,’ he took a step backwards, falling in line with his comrades. His gaze fell to McArthur, still barely conscious on the office floor. The agent hadn’t moved an inch since his body had been carelessly dropped there several minutes before. ‘Shoot this man, please, Mr Demidov.’
The words fell out of the masked man’s mouth, without a second’s consideration. His voice was as shallow and detached as ever as he issued Anton with this last command.
‘Wha-?!’ Anton stuttered. His sense of resolve and readiness of a moment before had vanished. How could he have not seen the setup coming? He had practically torn the office apart when he had still believed Korolov to be the villain, looking for evidence of Anya’s abduction. His fingerprints had to be everywhere; and now the mercenaries had done their job in ensuring they were also on the two principle murder weapons. One final task remained: getting rid of any witnesses. ‘I can’t... I can’t kill this man.’
No change in those narrow, impassive eyes. Almost immediately, he lifted the mouthpiece of the sat phone to his lips. ‘You hear me?’
‘Yes, sir, loud and clear,’ came the immediate response.
‘Good,’ the merc glanced fleetingly at Anton. ‘Shoot the girl-’
‘No!’ Anton nearly flung himself forward, in some ridiculous attempt to shield Anya. ‘No, wait!’
‘Wait,’ the man repeated into the device. No gunshot was heard. Anton took a step back from the precipice. ‘Stand by.’
‘Alright,’ Anton gasped. He was trapped. This entire operation had been meticulously planned from the very beginning. He had been snared, like a flailing rabbit caught in a trap. He had no choice but to cooperate. ‘Alright, I’ll do it! I’ll do whatever you want.’
The merc gave no reply, but looked expectant, waiting for Anton to reinforce his pledge with some sign of action. The Russian ex-bodyguard stood over his former colleague, unable to stop the trembling in both his well-trained hands. McArthur seemed to have no awareness of the situation around him, but this didn’t help Anton. The young man’s chest was still rising up and down, his heart was beating, his brain was active... This was a living person who lay at his feet: a life that he was being forced to snuff out in order to save another. Nothing in possible existence could make this any easier.
His finger squeezed the trigger, and he released a short, accurate burst of the low velocity rounds into the American’s back, making sure that the injuries were permanent and fatal: Alex would not suffer too much as he quickly bled out on the carpet. It would be a matter of seconds.
‘Right, very good, Mr Demidov. Kashin’s girl is safe for now.’ Anton barely heard the words; he couldn’t look away from the motionless body, prostrate on the floor. ‘Take him out to the van, we’ll finish up here.’
He felt the automatic slowly being prised from his shaky grasp, and then McArthur’s lifeless shell vanished from sight as a black-canvas bag was thrown over his head and he was lead out of the room.

Rachel glanced at her sister, the cold expression on Sarah’s face sending chills through her spine. There was no way she could ever fully understand what Sarah had been through, the torment she had endured. Even so, the emptiness in her sister’s eyes as she watched a helpless girl self-destruct scared the hell out of her. Both understood that Young was not the enemy, but while Sarah viewed her as a means through which they could find their true adversary, Rachel saw her as just another victim caught up in all this just like they were. She couldn’t forget the brief connection she had felt to the girl currently stumbling across the deserted street, shielding herself from unseen attackers, once more caged inside the prison of her own mind.
‘Do you really think this is going to work?’ Rachel whispered hoarsely, gulping down her rising sense of guilt.
Sarah took her hand and they vanished from sight.
‘Simone is dead. She has no friends in the Firm anymore. She has no one else to turn to.’ Sarah’s voice was still impassive, as Rachel had come to expect, but she sounded quietly confident. ‘Whoever is giving her orders, whoever wanted Preston dead, Wendy will lead us straight to them.’

The answer stared up at her from the bright monitor, blinking innocently as if apologetic for eluding her for so long. Was it really this simple? Seemingly so obvious now that she had the tools with which to obtain it. Elan smiled to herself: thank you, Monica.
Jacob had been right: the girl was the key to everything. After all these years, all the sleepless nights and tortured visions; it was all going to be worth it. The final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, and the picture was complete. It showed a brighter future, instigated by Elan’s flawless design. Now, nothing could stand in her way.

Chapter Nineteen: The Final Piece

Leyla’s Café, Manhattan

‘So, who the hell is she anyway?’ Kyle voiced. ‘I mean, what’s her agenda?’
Sat opposite him in the cramped diner’s booth, Danielle looked irked. She wasn’t sure why this would annoy her so much. Danielle had been as frustrated as Kyle by Elan’s mysterious motives. But the way the teenager had said it made it sound like Elan was the villain in all this.
‘She wants to save the world,’ Danielle said affectedly. She had predicted that Kyle would find this amusing, but spoke the words with belief and clarity nonetheless.
But Kyle’s reaction was anything but what she had expected. He didn’t scoff, or tease her. He looked grave, pondering her words for a minute or two, that familiar sombre expression on his face. ‘Who’s to say she isn’t already too late?’
Danielle opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t think of anything to say, so let the uncomfortable silence between them resume. The middle-aged waitress ended the awkward moment when she arrived to take their order. Danielle simply asked for another coffee, but to her annoyance, Kyle started scrutinising the food section of the menu. When he caught her glaring at him in disdain, he shrugged, ‘Come on, she barely feeds us.I’m starving...’
Wanting to seem uninterested, Danielle turned her gaze to the TV monitor mounted behind the diner’s bar. It took her a few precious seconds to actually pay attention to what the uptight-looking news reader was actually reporting on.
‘...this individual is extremely dangerous and is not to be approached under any circumstances,’ she was saying. The picture switched to recorded footage of a suburban street, littered with overturned police squad cars and SUVs. ‘These were the scenes of destruction in a peaceful suburb of Denver, after the teenage NEO was tracked down by the local law enforcement. Three officers were killed, and several more injured...’
Danielle’s heart began to thump erratically, as the picture once again changed, now showing a sharp clear profile of a young fifteen year-old boy...the same boy who was sitting opposite her, oblivious, still mulling over the options on the menu. To her dismay, Danielle saw that the waitress, bored of Kyle’s indecisiveness, had also turned her attention to the news bulletin. As if in slow motion, Danielle watched as her eyes widened, instantly recognising the teenage fugitive on the screen, her pad of paper sliding from her grasp.
Trembling slightly, she took a fearful step away from the booth, and dared herself to look downwards at the young pair. But all that met her frightened stare were two empty seats and the spilled remnants of Danielle’s first coffee. She let out a muffled cry, spinning on her heel, fully expecting to see the freaks appear behind her, poised to strike. But the diner remained calm, the other occupants oblivious to her panic. The waitress jumped when she saw the door open of its own accord, and then slam itself shut.

Hex knelt over Monica’s body, his eyes closed, his muscular shoulders jerking as suppressed sobs caught in his throat. Chloe looked on, head in hands, tears still blurring her vision. She had always suspected that Monica was more to Hex than just his employer, now it was all but confirmed. It was a fair bet that his feelings for her hadn’t been unrequited. However Chloe knew that both of their commitment to the task they had set themselves had most likely prevented either of them from ever acting upon those feelings. She couldn’t bear to think what must be going through the Colombian’s mind at that moment. Fortunately, she had too much going through her own to even try.
Once Hex had stowed away his emotions to that deep place within himself that Chloe could only imagine, he stood and faced her. He cast a forlorn figure. Perhaps the only woman he had ever loved lay dead at his feet, but Chloe knew by now the only thought in his mind was their next move.
But, as far as she could see, there were no more moves. It was game over…checkmate, as Monica would say. Their leader was dead. Whatever play Monica had in mind, it surely hadn’t ended with her lying dead on the floor of her office. Any hope they’d had was surely lost.
‘I need you to bring every senior agent on the premises into this office, immediately,’ he spoke steadily, his face once more adorning the mask of headship he had become so good at wearing.
‘But I-’
‘Do as I say, Chloe!’ A flash of fury crossed his face, like she had only seen two or three times before. He turned back to Monica’s body, crouching over her, and Chloe didn’t dare question him again.
Twenty or so minutes later, there were a dozen or so people stood in the office. Hushed whispers sailed through the air, as no one could lift their gaze away from the lifeless body of their commander, now laid carefully upon the leather couch, covered respectfully by Hex’s leather jacket.
Chloe noticed the Bork siblings standing ashen-faced amongst the assembled, but she didn’t have the energy in her to order them away. As Hex drew breath to speak, all fell silent and every pair of eyes focused on the tall black Latino man.
‘Today, a great woman has died. In Monica, we have lost not only our leader, but our guardian and our friend,’ he drew another deep breath, collecting himself, before continuing. ‘Not everyone here knew Monica as long as I did, but those who did would know that she wouldn’t wish for us to grieve or avenge her. While we are still here, while we are still breathing, we must finish what she started.’
Hex’s hand reached up to his collar and undid the first button of shirt. He tore off the necklace underneath, and Chloe glimpsed that in the place of a locket or a jewel on the polished chain there hung a tiny flash drive. ‘A threat is on the horizon, perhaps greater than any we have faced before. Not long ago, Monica entrusted me with a message I was only to watch or show to anyone else in the event of her death.’
He hastily thrust the drive into the high definition monitor mounted on the wall. In a matter of seconds, Monica’s face appeared on the screen. The smile on her face did little to abate the tiredness in her eyes, the tension in her face or the deep wrinkles in her sallow cheeks. Somehow she looked even older than Chloe had remembered her, but the sadness this brought her was overwhelmed by the trepidation she felt for what last words her mentor had for her…for them all.
‘I’ll be brief,’ Monica started, her tone typical. Chloe’s heart sank: it was almost as if the woman was really there- in the room with them. ‘If you’re watching this, then I’m dead...in all likelihood, murdered. I do not intend to shock or deceive when I tell you that I know who the killer is…or will be. Depending on who is in the room at present, some of you may even remember her. Mr Rodriguez most definitely will…
Chloe glanced over at Hex, in time to see a flash of indignation cross his face.
‘Elan Greene is armed and extremely dangerous. I have reason to believe she was behind the destruction of Lab 23, the attempt on Preston’s life and God knows what she plans next. The weapon that was nearly released at the Capitol Building last year is now in her possession. As of the filming of this message, I am not entirely sure what she intends to do with it, but I know her well enough to be certain she isn’t looking to sell it or use it as leverage, despite what the government may believe. Elan is extremely intelligent and, now she has my ability, it is likely she has already figured out how to modify the components of Spectar sufficiently so that it can be used against the non-evolved population. I don’t need to spell out the havoc she could wreak with such a weapon at her disposal.
‘I have a contact in Russia, whose identity I will not reveal here, although he may have already been compromised. I was using Hannah as a means to safely relay messages to him, but since her disappearance it has become too dangerous to contact him. Working together we were able to unearth some vital information which may give an indication to Elan’s next move. The following is a recording taken from Second Minister Preston’s personal line. Given that Hannah may have sacrificed herself to get this information to me; I need not stress the pivotal role it could play in the events yet to take place. I won’t delay: here is the file.’
Monica’s aging features disappeared from the monitor, to be replaced by a thin green line bisecting the screen horizontally. The waveform began to fluctuate and spike, as the recorded voice of Andrew Preston filled the room.
No one dared breathe or move a muscle as the conversation played, thus far one-sided. Every single word Preston spoke was like a knife in Chloe’s flesh, as the arrogant son of a bitch conspired with whoever was listening in on the other end of the line. When Preston had finally finished, there were a few seconds of silence, the static on the recording buzzing and blurring the waveform ever so slightly. But then the listener finally began to speak. As he did so, a ripple of confusion and disbelief slowly spread around the room. Chloe found Hex’s eyes, and they could only stare at each other in desperation as the recording continued to play.
The sound quality was poor, most likely due to the filters both parties had been using which Monica had cracked, but the identity of the second speaker was unmistakable. The heavily accented voice of Vladimir Titov was responding calmly and amiably to every one of Preston’s remarks and questions. Before any more could be revealed, the recording suddenly cut out.
The room was deadly silent, as Monica’s face appeared on the screen once again, her expression grave. ‘Unfortunately that’s all we were able to gather before they realised we were hacking the call, but the consequences of this are inimitable. Everything we have thus far believed about President Titov is irrelevant. Henceforth, we can no longer trust him or anyone in the Russian administration to face up to the threat from Greene or our own government. I leave it up to you to act upon this information and do everything you can to prevent this catastrophe threatening the future of everyone on this planet.
‘Finally, before I leave you, I must name my successor as head of the Firm. From this moment on any existing or future members of Mayfield will report to Agent Sanchez. I trust completely in her judgement and leadership. Now, it’s time for me to bid you farewell. Good luck and God help us all…’
One final brief nod and the image flickered and died. Everyone in the room went on staring at the blank screen, unable quite yet to handle the revelations that had just been unveiled. Chloe stood in a daze, awash with both fear and remorse, but above all, shock. Monica had named her as her successor, and had personally tasked her with stopping the impending disaster. It was her against the entire US government, the Russian President and an entirely new enemy who, it appeared, had been pulling the strings behind every significant event that had taken place over the last few weeks.

Elan’s Apartment, New York

Danielle winced, as the syringe punctured the flesh on her forearm. She didn’t dare look as a small amount of blood was drawn up into the plastic vial. It humiliated her slightly that, even after all she had been through, the girl still harboured a childish fear of needles.
‘There,’ Elan soothed, bundling the vial up with the rest of the medical equipment. ‘All there is to it.’
Since returning to the relative safety of Elan’s anonymous apartment, Kyle and Danielle had agreed not to tell her of their close call at the diner. Danielle didn’t want to worry Elan: she knew the woman already had enough on her mind. However, she suspected Kyle had his own reasons. Despite her attempts to alleviate him, he still wasn’t fully ready to accept her guidance. She could see by his reaction every time they spoke of Elan that he didn’t want to place his trust in her, just yet. But he would come around…he had to. She was sure he was as important as her in Elan’s plans.
The bare apartment was dark and quiet as usual. Nina was far gone in one of the bedrooms; by now they were both used to the painter’s irregular sleeping habits. Elan had returned not long after they had. Oblivious to the guilty expressions they shared, she had immediately begun fussing over Danielle’s health.
‘You were seriously ill,’ she had argued, brushing aside the girl’s fierce protests that she was fine now. ‘That wasn’t just some fever. There was a weaponised toxin in your bloodstream.’ She insisted that she take a sample of Danielle’s blood, just to make certain that Spectar had been completely flushed out of her system.
When it was over, Elan left the room to check on Nina, Danielle glanced over at Kyle, who was still sat in the corner, looking dubious. But neither had a moment to voice their opinion. The loud thumping on the door caused them both to jump from their seats. Shooting to their feet, they looked at each other, eyes wide in panic.
A terrible alarm was screaming inside Danielle’s mind. Had they lead the enemy right to Elan’s door? How could they have been so stupid? By the looks of it, Kyle was having similar thoughts. Before they could even move however, a dark blur shot through the room, papers swept off the coffee table as if by a strong gust of wind. Elan was suddenly stood at the door, her back to both Danielle and Kyle.
She barely turned her head, and hissed at them to get into the bedroom. This time, Danielle knew better than to protest. Hurriedly, she grabbed Kyle’s arm and they crept into the darkness of Nina’s cave.
‘What’s going on?’ she heard the weary woman say, just as another series of loud knocks echoed through the apartment. Danielle put a finger to her lips and gently pulled the door behind her, leaving it a fraction open. She put her eye level with the sliver of light and, her heart pounding, watched as Elan did the same, peering through the spy hole in the front door.
‘Jesus Christ…’ she heard Elan mutter as, to Danielle’s surprise, the woman unlatched the door and hastily ushered in their unexpected caller. ‘Tell me no one saw you come here.’
Danielle did not recognise the girl that entered. She had hair as black as the night: a tangled mess which fell far below her shoulders. Her pale face held an expression of constant wariness, her bloodshot eyes darting around the room. Danielle suppressed a gasp as they seemed to stare straight at her for a second, but darting away again, like the fly desperately avoiding the hand swatting at it.
‘I told you never to come here,’ Elan rebuked her. ‘If you needed help, you should have waited for me at the mansion.’
‘I…’ Danielle wasn’t quite sure what this newcomer was afraid of. The harsh tone in which Elan dealt with her was one which Danielle had never heard before. But there seemed more to the girl’s terror; as if the world around her was full of predators. Predators even Elan couldn’t protect her from.
Who was she? An ally or yet another enemy? And why was she here? There was so much Danielle yearned to know. Elan had called her the final piece, but how many other pieces were there? Was this girl one of them? If so, why had Elan kept her a secret?
In the end, Danielle’s curiosity overwhelmed her. She wrenched open the door, and stepped forward into the room. Elan looked up at her sharply, her face a mixture of unease and irritation.
‘Danielle, get back in the bedroom. Let me handle this.’
That same tone; less harsh, but all the more potent now it was directed at her. Danielle didn’t move an inch.
‘Not until you tell me who this is.’ She wasn’t quite sure what had come over her, but all her frustration over the past few weeks, everything Elan was keeping hidden from her, seemed to be spilling out in one unstoppable flood. Danielle crossed her arms, acting a lot braver than she felt. Those piercing green eyes weren’t easy to look into sometimes.
‘It’s nothing for you to worry about,’ Elan’s voice was gentler this time, and Danielle sensed she was trying to appease her. She wouldn’t be persuaded that easily. Continuing to hold her ground under that formidable gaze, she stood expectantly, awaiting her answer.
‘Wendy’s a friend. She’s been helping me with a few things,’ Elan spoke hesitantly, and Danielle knew she was still holding back the full story. Meanwhile, Wendy was moving curiously about the room, leading with her hands, as if testing the air, searching for something none of them could see.
Danielle watched this behaviour curiously, sensing Kyle in the doorway behind her doing the same. Elan was also looking on in exasperation, as the situation seemed to be slipping from her grasp. The young girl was torn between her compassion for the older woman who had saved her and given her purpose, and her hunger to know more, whether by Elan’s consent or not. Though it scared her to see Elan not fully in control for the first time, there was a distinct sense of satisfaction in knowing some of that control had shifted her way. It didn’t have to be this way, if only Elan had been straight with her from the beginning. Eventually, it was this hunger for answers which won the battle raging in her mind.
‘I want to know the truth,’ Danielle could barely formulate the words before they flew off her tongue. ‘If I’m as important as you say I am, then why aren’t you telling me anything?’
‘Please, Danielle, you just have to trust me.’ It stung Danielle to see a look of almost betrayal forming on Elan’s captivating features. ‘There are certain things which you can’t know about yet. I promise you, when the time is right, you’ll know everything.’
‘I’m sorry, Elan,’ the door was half-open now, and Danielle couldn’t help but push even harder for the answers she felt she deserved, ‘that’s not good enough…’
‘Yes, Elan.’ A new voice entered the fray. ‘We’re afraid that’s just not good enough.’
Everyone froze.
The sardonic words had come from Wendy’s direction. But the terrified looking girl’s lips hadn’t moved. She stood stock still, but her eyes were racing around their sockets quicker than ever, frantically trying to locate the source of the bodiless voice.
‘They’re here…’ she murmured in a croak.
Elan shot her a look of pure wrath. ‘Oh, you stupid girl! You stupid, stupid…’
But her words were cut short as, suddenly, behind Wendy there appeared two familiar faces. Danielle was lost for words, as Sarah Winters let go of her sister Rachel’s hand, and gave her a friendly smile.
‘Hey, Danielle,’ Sarah greeted her. ‘Long time no see.’

Sorry it took so long, thought I'd post two as a way of saying thanks to anyone who would still bother reading this. If you're out there, enjoy! x