Chapter 6: Again
(Déjà vu (n.) An impression of having seen or experienced something before)

Joey gasped in disbelief. "Blown up?! Chris!"

Chris leapt to his feet and began to pace. "I know, Joey, okay? I know. But think about it. They were being exposed to the radiation gradually, while we got it literally blown into us." The door opened to reveal Agent Welsh and two other people in suits and badges. Chris didn't notice. "Maybe heat has something to do with it. The heat and pressure from the explosion was combined with the burst of radiation—that was what changed us. The radiation protected us from the heat, and the heat protected us from the radiation. Without both being there, it just doesn't work. That's why their powers are all wonky, they didn't have the heat or the pressure. Stupid, idiot, shit-for-brains scientists...." At that point his speech dissolved into an incoherent rant peppered with swear words and swinging fists.

"Well...." Agent Welsh said, stepping into the room cautiously and trying to avoid being smacked by Chris' flailing arms. "That was exactly what I was hoping to talk about next, so it will certainly make things faster."

Joey gaped at the man. "You were planning to blow them up?!"

"No, Joey." Agent Welsh tried not to smile, but the corners of his lips twitched anyway. "Contrary to popular belief, your government does not go around routinely blowing up innocent people."

"Oh."

"No, actually, I was hoping to discuss theories and possible courses of action with you. Chris.... Chris, sit down, please?"

"I can't sit, I'm too agitated." But he did anyway, his entire body vibrating with suppressed energy.

"Alright. Well, these people with me are two of the FBI's most prominent scientists, Drs. William Cranston and Trini Kwan."

Chris glared at the two. "Scientists," he muttered witheringly.

Dr. Kwan smiled kindly at him. "I understand your frustration, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Whoever did this was extremely sloppy."

"Indeed," Cranston agreed, his sandy hair flopping into his face as he shook his head. "From what we can tell, they barely researched at all before going ahead with the experiment. The only thing they knew for sure was what kind of radiation you five had been exposed to."

"They were experimenting on them?!" JC burst out, becoming more and more horrified by the second.

"Apparently so," Kwan confirmed, taking a seat at the table. "They really had no idea what they were doing. The notes we were able to confiscate from the lab indicate as much. They were recording the Backstreet Boys' reaction to the radiation."

"The strange thing, however, is that earlier notes indicate that whoever paid them to do his had expected them to do the research beforehand so that the transformation could be made smoothly," Cranston finished, sitting down next to her. "The hired scientists, however, didn't follow that plan."

"So what now?" Lance folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, resting his head on them. Justin looked at him sharply and cocked his head, listening to Lance's heartbeat. After a moment, he relaxed and nodded subtly at the others. They all sank back into their seats, relieved. The three agents didn't seem to notice the interaction.

"Well, now we need to figure out what to do with them," Welsh admitted. "Frankly, they're a danger both to themselves and to others, so even once the hospital deems them relatively healthy, they can't be released back into the general public."

"Yeah, we figured," JC sighed.

"However, if we could find a way to either stabilize or neutralize their powers, that point would become moot."

"We were wondering if the five of you would consent to a full physical examination," Cranston asked hopefully. "Nothing too invasive, just the same sorts of tests your regular doctor would give you, including blood and urine samples for analysis."

"Um, sure, but you won't get any blood out of me," Joey answered ruefully.

"Why not?"

"The needle has not yet been invented that can penetrate that man's skin," Chris responded grandly.

JC went white. "Could we please not talk about needles?"

Justin put a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Jayce."

"Other than getting blood from Joey, I guess it's okay," Chris answered for them all. "And you probably won't get any out of JC either, unless you knock him out first."

Kwan bit back a smile. "I'm sure that won't be necessary. Thank you."

"Alright." Welsh looked pleased with their acquiescence. "For the time being, we've reserved some hotel rooms nearby for you and a few of your entourage, who should be arriving in town soon. Just relax for now, and we'll do the examinations in the morning."

Chris spoke quietly as they all stood up to leave. "Agent Welsh, what will you do if it turns out I'm right about all this? What if blowing them up really is the only way to fix things?"

Welsh exchanged glances with Kwan and Cranston, who simply shook their heads. "I don't know," he answered, sighing heavily. "I suppose we'd simply tell them the theory and then leave it up to them as to whether or not we try it. It's a matter of whether or not they're willing to live like this for the rest of their lives, or if they'd rather risk death for the chance at a somewhat normal life."

Chris was quiet for a while. "Not much of a choice, is it?"

"No, I'm afraid it isn't."

It was a subdued group that headed out to the hotel.

~*~

Dr. Julian Brummel looked nervously around at the large group of armed men who had gathered in the auditorium of the local community college. He did a quick mental check to make sure his face and posture weren't revealing his uneasiness—to show weakness in front of these men would be a regrettable mistake. Judging from their reception to him so far, his inexperience and nerves were thankfully well hidden.

He had spoken to another of his contacts—a woman with whom he had enjoyed a brief affair—and she had allowed him the use of this space for a span of three hours. She, of course, had no idea who was really meeting here. She thought he was holding an adult education class about micro-biology. Stupid woman. Attractive, though. He would consider another fling with her if the opportunity presented itself.

He waited just a few more moments, until the crowd of fifty had quieted down considerably, then began to speak.

"Good afternoon, men, and thank you for coming so promptly. As you know, I am Dr. Julian Brummel, and I am one of the most gifted and respected scientists in the world, specializing in biology, microbiology, chemistry, and astrophysics." They didn't look particularly impressed. Uncivilized beasts, every one of them. "I have hired you to help me complete my research on the so-called 'superhero' phenomenon that has developed recently in the world of popular music. I will give you a brief background explanation.

"As you have been hearing in the news, the members of the vocal group NSYNC were caught in an explosion at a nuclear power plant and as a result, developed superhuman powers. Soon after these events, I was approached by a high-level executive at their record label, who wanted me to repeat that occurrence with another of their groups, the Backstreet Boys. With this executive's help, I was able to acquire this group and expose them to radiation. However, before my experiment could be completed, they were rescued by NSYNC.

"Your job, quite simply, is to get the Backstreet Boys back in to my laboratory and keep them there until my experiments are complete. This will be made difficult by the fact that NSYNC and Backstreet are at the same hospital, here in Cleveland. You will need to find a way to remove Backstreet from the facility without NSYNC's interference. I will leave the hows to you, as 'military strategist' is not among my many credentials."

None of the Neanderthals even cracked a smile. He cleared his throat and continued.

"In addition, the Backstreet Boys themselves have developed powers of a sort, though they are apparently having trouble controlling them." He turned on the overhead projector and began his slide show. "This is the oldest of the Backstreet Boys, Kevin Richardson. Note that he is now magnetic, so you will need to keep a tight grip on your weapons. He will also most likely require several of you to subdue him, as he becomes a large lizard-like creature when emotional or upset."

A low murmur swept through the room. Finally, they were showing some sort of reaction. It was unnerving talking to a sea of grim, staring faces. He switched to the next picture. "This is Alexander McLean. His powers are hypnosis—so be sure not to look directly into his eyes—and the ability to camouflage himself against whatever happens to be in the background. For example, if he were standing in front of a brick wall, he would take on the appearance of that wall and therefore become virtually invisible. Keep a close eye on him, gentlemen.

"Next, Howard Dorough. He will also be difficult to manage, and will require special handling. He can breathe both inside and outside of water, but cannot control which he is doing at any given time. That means you men must keep him near water at all times. He will do me no good if he arrives at my lab suffocated, do I make myself clear?" He gave the room at large a steely glare and frowned slightly when several of the men smirked at him. "Secondly," he continued, choosing to ignore them, "he can produce and conduct electricity, so some of you may be shocked. As I understand it, he emits an extremely high charge, so it could be potentially fatal. I have made arrangements for your truck to be equipped with a large rubber mat, on which will be resting a water tank of significant size. Try to keep the spillage to a minimum, the rubber mat won't do any good if the electricity is conducted through water spilled past its borders.

"Fourth is Brian Littrell. He and the next fellow should be easiest to handle. Littrell is simply able to communicate with spirits and take on the emotions of those around him, a completely useless power. Lastly, there is Nikolas Carter, who is suffering from X-Ray vision. I say 'suffering' because he is apparently squeamish and quite ill. Perhaps you should acquire some of his anti-nausea medication to take with you, lest things get messy."

Brummel shut off the projector and gestured to the large screen television. "Now, I want you to watch the video footage of NSYNC at one of my laboratories yesterday. As you will see, their powers are quite impressive. I will require you to study this tape in order to decide how to most effectively hold your own against them. Again, do not think that simply because they are spoiled pop stars, they will be easy to defeat." He made a show of placing the remote control on the podium. "I shall leave you with this," he said, stepping back. "You have this room until 10:00 pm, so watch the tape as many times as you must, within that time limit. You know where my other laboratory is located, simply bring them there when you have them all in your possession. Do not go to the location on this tape, it is crawling with police officers and is of no use to me. You have my phone number, if there are questions."

Julian Brummel smiled to himself as he exited the auditorium, hearing the tape beginning to play behind him. If all went well, he would have the Backstreet Boys in his lab by the following evening. Excellent.

~*~

"No!" Lance lurched awake with a gasp, his heart pounding frantically. He broke into a cold sweat as a wave of nausea churned through his stomach, and he threw the covers off, running to the bathroom to fall to his knees in front of the toilet, heaving breathlessly though nothing came up. He didn't even notice how violently he was shivering until someone knelt down beside him and gently wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. "J-Justin...?"

"Shh, just relax." Justin pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him, using his body heat to generate warmth.

"Didn't... didn't mean to...." His teeth were chattering uncontrollably, making it hard to speak.

"I know." Justin ran a soothing hand up and down on Lance's back. "It's okay, I know."

They stayed there on the bathroom floor for several minutes, Justin holding Lance until his shivering slowed and stopped, his heart rate returning to normal.

"Sorry," Lance said, sighing heavily and letting his body relax back into Justin's. "I guess I woke you up?"

"Not really." Justin shrugged and started to stand, pulling Lance with him. "I was kind of just dozing. You've been pretty restless all night."

"Dreams," Lance explained, shuddering again. "I think they're visions, but they're so vague. And I swear I'm not doing it on purpose."

Justin smiled slightly as he helped Lance back into bed and tucked him in like a small child. "I know. You wouldn't." He climbed up on the bed next to Lance and leaned against the headboard, closing his eyes. "I'll just stay here with you, if you don't mind."

"No, that's fine." Lance blinked up at him sleepily, curling up into a ball around his still-nervous stomach. "You should sleep, J. Stop listening to the rest of us and try to get some rest."

"Can't," Justin shrugged, eyes still closed. "It's like you, I can't really turn it off. I always hear you guys in the background, no matter what. Your heartbeats, and stuff. And if one of you's in trouble, it's like the volume turns up, you know? You've had six nightmares tonight, Lance, and I heard them from down the hall."

"Six?" Lance frowned, thinking back. "I only remember having four."

"Trust me," Justin grimaced. "You had six. This was just the worst one. It's weird, you know? Chris talks in his sleep. He's really quiet about it, which is why I never noticed before, but there you go. And he's gotten up to go to the bathroom twice. I did not enjoy listening to that, let me tell you."

Lance snickered.

"Joey snores like a chainsaw, which you knew already, I guess. JC sings, which is just... well, I was gonna say it was weird, but this is JC we're talking about, so I guess it's par for the course."

"I've heard him singing before," Lance mused, "But I thought he was awake."

"Nope. Dead asleep. Some nice melodies, too. I'll have to see if he uses any of them later on."

"Any strange lyrics?"

"Something about scrambled eggs and cranberry muffins, I don't know."

Lance yawned and snuggled deeper into the blankets. "Good old JC."

"Yeah." Justin shifted so he was lying down completely, his head resting next to Lance's on the pillow. "I think it went something like...." He started to hum quietly, and Lance drifted off to sleep.

~*~

Justin sighed to himself as he heard Joey start to chuckle yet again. It really wasn't that funny, he pouted, wincing when the nurse squeezed the blood pressure cuffs too tight.

He had been awakened that morning, not by an alarm clock, but by three very familiar giggles. He'd opened his eyes to find himself curled around a sleeping Lance, their three older groupmates standing at the foot of the bed with wide grins on their faces. "Isn't that the sweetest thing you have ever seen?" JC had asked Joey and Chris, and the two agreed whole-heartedly that it was. Justin, for his part, had begged to differ. Of course, once they'd found out why he'd been sleeping in Lance's room in the first place, their mirth was somewhat decreased, but even now, several hours later, the compromising position still provided them with an occasional giggle. Unfortunately for Justin and Lance, it would continue to do so for a long time. Joey had taken pictures.

Justin closed his eyes and tried to relax. He wasn't nearly as nervous about doctors as JC tended to be, but it certainly wasn't a pleasurable experience. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they'd first ended up in the hospital after that fateful explosion, and the examinations this time around were for even greater stakes than they had been before. Despite the heightened urgency, the whole experience was giving Justin a strange case of déjà vu.

Down the hall, in Joey's examination room, he could hear a small conference of doctors and nurses discussing how in the world they could draw blood from Joey when his skin refused to be broken. The current suggestion being bandied about was to use a hollow titanium acupuncture needle, if they could find one. Chris, meanwhile, was once again whining and complaining about the amount of blood being taken from him, while his nurses giggled and joked with him. Justin wondered at Chris' uncanny ability to be so annoying and so irresistible to women at the same time.

JC, for his part, carried on a mostly one-sided conversation with one of the nurses about the effects of globalization and world trade on musical styles in the twenty-first century—or something like that—in an effort to distract himself from the examination. It was a good thing JC wasn't in Joey's room, where the words "needle" and "puncture" and "break the skin" were being uttered approximately every two seconds. Lance was calm as always, using the down time to just doze, his mind most likely running through figures and business possibilities for FreeLance. Lance was weird that way.

Justin let his mind and his hearing wander, the sounds of his friends' voices fading into a buzz at the back of his consciousness. They were in the middle of a real mess, that was for sure. Now that people were aware that certain types of radiation could cause super powers, what was to keep psychos like whoever had planned this from trying to make their own superheroes? People would be getting radiated and blown up left and right, and who knew how it would turn out? The Backstreet Boys had certainly found out the hard way that it was unpredictable at best; and now their futures—their very lives—were at stake. Not to mention the public backlash that would almost certainly occur. What if people started to be as afraid of real-life superheroes as they were of mutants in those X-Men comics? Justin shuddered at the thought. He had never been universally hated and had no desire to start now.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the familiar click of a chambering gun. His eyes widened and he heard himself blurt out, "Not again?!"

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