Chapter 5: The Inside Man
(In Which Plans and Explanations Are Made)

Dr. Brummel had not realized how difficult it was to hire mercenaries. Apparently, word of the last team's crushing defeat had spread rapidly among those circles, and every group he contacted refused to take on the job, instead passing him on to someone else. With each rejection he grew more and more frustrated until, finally, one of his calls paid off. An exorbitant price was agreed upon and arrangements were made to fly a 50-man team to Cleveland. With that done, Brummel moved on to the next phase of his plan.

"Pollock, it's Brummel."

"Well, well, if it isn't old JB! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"First of all, I have told you several times not to call me JB," Brummel answered, annoyed. "It makes me sound like a Texas oil tycoon. And secondly, this call is for business, not pleasure."

"Touchy, touchy," scoffed his contact. "So talk business, JB. Time is money."

"Money is no object this time, doctor. I need to get the Backstreet Boys out of that hospital and back into my lab, by any means necessary."

"Ah-hah, I knew it! This whole pop-star-turned-superhero mess has your name written all over it."

"So they have developed powers? Tell me about it, I need details."

"I thought you said they came out of your lab. Don't you know—"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, idiot! Those boys from NSYNC burst in and rescued them before the experiment was complete."

"Keep calling me names and you get nothing, JB. Play nice or I hang up right now."

"Alright, alright, Pollock, I apologize. Now, please...."

Dr. Pollock chuckled. "Right. Okay, well I was on the team that worked on Howard Dorough, so I can give you a lot of details there. The rest will be a tad sketchier, since I've gotten most of it through the grapevine."

"Fine, fine, yes?" Brummel sat up in his chair, his fingers poised over his keyboard to take copious notes.

"Now, it makes sense that you say your experiment was incomplete, because though all five boys have developed powers, those powers are extremely unstable and arguably useless, for the most part. In Dorough's case, they actually conflict, which has made things a bit interesting around here."

"Conflict? How so?"

"Well, first of all he's grown a pair of gills, but he's also kept his lungs. Problem is he can't control which breathing method is in effect at any time. He has to be in or near water at all times, just in case his lungs quit working and the gills kick in. Aside from that, the major conflict comes from his other power, which is that he produces and conducts electricity."

Brummel's eyes lit up. "Fascinating!"

"Indeed. We nearly lost him very early on, when he simply stopped breathing, but luckily one of the nurses noticed the gills and we rushed him up to the physical therapy wing and threw him in the pool. That's two floors away, though, so he was unconscious by the time we got there. He sank to the bottom and just lay there for a bit—I was positive we'd killed him—but the water revived him after only a few seconds. The gills stayed in effect for a good twenty minutes before his lungs kicked back in with no warning and he nearly drowned himself. The real fun started when the electricity power decided to show itself. You should have seen the light show it created. He packs quite a punch!"

"Okay...." Brummel was typing rapidly, his mind working to find the best way to remove Dorough from the facility. "I'll need a large truck, then, with a water tank of some sort. And perhaps a rubber floor mat underneath, to confine the electricity to the immediate area. Alight, next?"

"I love listening to you think out loud, JB, it gives me a chuckle."

Brummel clenched his teeth. "Next, Pollock?"

"Right, next." Pollock's amusement was audible in his voice. "Next would be Brian Littrell. Extremely interesting case, there. No physical enhancements, but he seems to have developed an ability to speak to spirits. Ghosts, if you will."

"Ghosts?" Brummel scoffed. "There's no such thing."

"I beg to differ, my friend. He was able to describe in great detail a patient we lost recently, along with the circumstances of her death."

"Super hearing, then."

"She died yesterday morning."

"Oh. Hmmm...."

"Uh-huh. Anyway, in addition to that, I think he's somewhat empathic. Not only can he decipher easily the emotions of those around him, but he actually takes on those emotions himself. He was in the psyche ward for quite a while before it became clear what was going on. Either way, he's extremely unstable, prone to wildly changing emotions, and easily distracted by otherworldly things. I would have liked to have kept him in psyche, but he's been moved to a room with two of the other Boys."

"They're together?"

"Yes, Littrell, Carter, and Richardson are in one room on the fifth floor, while McLean is staying with Dorough in the physical therapy pool room."

"Good, that will make it easier to remove them," Brummel decided, nodding in satisfaction. "Go on, what about the other three?"

"Nikolas Carter will most likely be the easiest to subdue. He's developed X-ray vision, of all things, but he's a bit squeamish, poor kid." Pollock laughed out loud. "He's on anti-nausea medication because the sight of other peoples' internal organs makes him physically ill. He just can't seem to turn it off."

"A handy power if he were a doctor or scientist," Brummel observed, "But not for a pop-star."

"It's not good for much of anything, as far as I can tell," Pollock agreed. "Apparently, he can even see through his own eyelids. Might be good for spying purposes, though. Seeing through walls, and such."

"I suppose. Moving on?"

"Alright. Alexander McLean is able to place people into hypnotic trances. That power seems to be linked to his eyes, since as long as he's wearing those ridiculous sunglasses, nothing seems to happen. He also has the ability to camouflage his skin and even clothing, so that he blends completely in with his surroundings. He becomes almost invisible."

"Again, uncontrollable?"

"Completely. He vanishes at the oddest times."

"Okay, and lastly?"

"Hmm, Kevin Richardson. He'll be extremely difficult to contain. It appears that when he becomes emotional, he transforms into a large, superhuman, lizard-like creature. In that state, he has little to no intellect and is extremely strong; kind of a Jeckyl-Hyde thing. In addition, he's magnetic, but again, not all the time. When that power is in effect, anything nearby that is made of metal will be drawn to his body. When he's in lizard-form, this can cause a lot of problems, because the creature sees getting hit by all of those objects as a form of attack and just gets madder and madder."

"Fascinating," Brummel said again. "So I'll need to limit the amount of metal in the area. How did your people calm him down, which I'm assuming they managed to do?"

"NSYNC did it, actually. They had their shape-shifter turn into a small kitten. The creature saw the kitten as something to protect, rather than as a threat. He shrunk back down to normal within only a few minutes."

"Oh, NSYNC. Are they still there?" Brummel sat back and stroked his chin, deep in thought. "They'll be a problem. I need to get to the Backstreet Boys without their knowledge, or at least be assured that they won't attempt to rescue them right away. The psychic may well discover my plans ahead of time, and the other has super-hearing and may be warned that way."

"If I could make a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"I assume you've hired men? Well, have them attack the hospital, or at least threaten to. The needs of the many will overshadow the needs of the few, and NSYNC will protect the hospital as a whole rather than the individual Backstreet Boys."

"Yes, of course, that makes perfect sense," Brummel mused.

"I do have to insist, however, that you not simply advise your men to burst in with guns blazing. This may come as a surprise to you, but I do care about some of the people I work with, not to mention keeping my own skin intact."

"We can use a bomb threat, perhaps, and armed men with hostages. No need for actual bloodshed, just the threat of it should be enough. Thank you, doctor, you do occasionally earn your pay."

"I always earn my pay, JB. You just have a short memory."

~*~

"I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate Chris," Joey said suddenly, breaking the silence in the large conference room into which NSYNC had been confined after leaving Chang and the Backstreet Boys to continue on alone.

"Congratulate me?" Chris asked, confused. "For what?"

"For showing remarkable restraint when forced to spend an extended amount of time with Kevin Richardson."

"Oh, yeah, that's right!" JC stared at Chris admiringly. "You didn't even make one wisecrack!"

Chris shrugged. "Hey, even I wouldn't mess with him at a time like this. I do have some couth, you know."

"Really?" Lance widened his eyes in mock surprise. Chris stuck his tongue out at him.

"Where do you think Agent Welsh went?" Justin wondered. "It's been, like, twenty minutes."

"They're probably trying to decide what to do with us," Lance guessed. "Agent Chang told me we're in the custody of the FBI, so they won't just cut us loose. They may want us to stick around here at the hospital, you know, in case Kevin freaks out again, or whatever."

Chris made a face. "Ugh. Man, I don't think I can be around Kevin for too long and still hold my tongue. He has a knack for getting the Hell on my nerves."

"We've noticed," Justin said dryly. "It really wasn't that big a deal, you know."

"Hmph." Chris folded his arms across his chest and pouted. "How do you think he'd like it if I told the press that the BSB are just copycat superheroes and they need to find their own identities? You think he'd appreciate that?" Justin rolled his eyes. "I thought not."

"There's really not much we can do for them," Lance pointed out, trying to change the subject. "The damage has already been done, hasn't it? There's not really a reason for us to be around."

"Well, we're probably the only ones who could handle Kevin when he's being... whatever," Joey reminded him. "He's too strong for normal people."

"Ever heard of a tranquilizer gun?" Chris grinned. "That, I'd love to see."

"And he says he has couth," JC muttered, shaking his head. Chris stuck his tongue out at him, too.

"Hey, I know!" Joey sat up straight, his face brightening. "Training!"

"What?" Justin frowned at him, shaking his head. "What does training have to do with anything?"

"Training, man! They need to learn to control their powers, so why couldn't we just help them train? Like, you know, develop exercises and stuff. It'd be fun!" He saw Chris starting to open his mouth and quickly added, "And we'd make sure Chris wouldn't have to work with Kevin. Ever."

Chris smirked at him, then sobered. "Actually, Joey, I don't think training is going to do them much good."

Joey deflated a little. "What? Why not?"

"Well, we could use ours pretty much right away, remember? It just came naturally. They literally have no control of what their powers are doing at any given time. AJ didn't even know he was doing the camouflage thing. I have a feeling the whole thing was just... wrong, ya know? It's the same type of radiation, but it didn't get absorbed right, or something. They can't train to fix it, it's the powers themselves that are flawed."

They all sat in grim silence for a few moments, absorbing what Chris had told them. "There's a chance you could be wrong about that, though," JC finally asked, his voice small. "Right?"

Chris gave a sad smile. "Yeah. I could be wrong."

"What if you're not?" Lance asked, not looking up. "What if there really is nothing they can do? They can't live normal lives like this."

Chris hesitated before answering. "Um, well, I think they'd have to be... in a controlled environment. For their own safety, really, not to mention everybody else's."

"What, like, stay at the hospital forever?!" JC sounded absolutely horrified. "Chris—"

"Look, I know, JC, okay? I know. But Lance is right, they can't live normal lives. Howie can't ever be away from water, Kevin's just plain dangerous, Brian's half out of his mind, Nick can't stop throwing up, and AJ... well, AJ's relatively fine, but that hypnotizing thing is dangerous. I'll bet you anything that the FBI is going to take them into permanent custody and just... stick them somewhere, in quarantine. I'll bet you."

"But they can't do that!" JC was getting really upset by now. "They have rights—"

"And the FBI has a responsibility," Lance interjected grimly. "To keep the general population safe from a possible threat like them."

JC deflated. "But... but it's not their fault."

"No, it's not," Chris agreed.

"This sucks," Joey growled, disgusted by the whole thing. "This really and truly sucks."

"There is one other possibility," Chris said hesitantly. "But it's, um... well, I don't know if you want to hear it."

"What?" JC gazed at him as if he held all the secrets of the universe. "Chris, if there's any chance at all to fix this...."

Chris sighed. "You may change your mind when you hear what it is." He paused, staring down at his folded hands. "I think they might have to get blown up."

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