Chapter 4: Siren Song
(It's about friendship)

"So, JC," AJ said, perching on the arm of the couch where JC sat with Chris and Joey, "that meditation thing, where'd you learn that?"

Nick, standing near the other end of the couch, rolled his eyes and deliberately turned his back. AJ stuck his pizza-covered tongue out in that general direction, causing both Chris and Joey to make gagging noises and grimace theatrically.

"I've been taking yoga classes." JC looked up at him a split second after AJ had put his tongue back where it belonged. "It's great, I really feel like it takes me to another plane of existence."

"Yeah? Huh." AJ took another bite of his pizza. "Like, what kind of other plane?"

"It's just really peaceful and relaxing. Like I'm clearing my mind of all of the clutter of everyday life."

"Right. And the physical stuff is just a plus, I guess?"

JC looked confused at that. Chris and Joey started sniggering like middle school boys. "Physical stuff?"

"Yeah. You know, like the.... What you did."

"What did I do?"

"Man, that has nothing to do with yoga," Joey informed him with a wicked grin.

"ÔC's just bendy," Chris added helpfully.

"Oh." AJ frowned down at his pizza. "Well, damn."

"You're bendy, too," Brian reminded him, coming up behind him suddenly and startling him. "Remember?"

"I am?"

"Sure."

"I can't do that, though."

"Do what?" JC asked, putting down his paper plate and frowning confusedly at all four of them. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, man! You like... did this thing.... I dunno. With your legs." AJ shrugged helplessly. "You move like a snake."

"A snake?"

Chris nudged him. "Oh, relax. Snakes are cool."

"Or a cat," AJ amended.

"Oh, well, okay, then. I like cats," JC nodded, appeased. He picked his plate back up and continued to eat.

The ten popstars-slash-superheroes had settled into two deluxe hotel suites for the night. Johnny, Sexual Chocolate, and the other bodyguards were staying in their own suites on the same floor. The two groups had gathered in Nsync's suite to have a pizza dinner and just hang out and relax for a while. Lance, still shaken and weak from his experience at the research facility, had gone straight to bed upon arrival, but the others had set aside a few slices of pizza for him in case he woke up hungry. The rest of the pies were being rapidly demolished.

"I could be a snake," Chris said, almost as an afterthought. "If I wanted."

"Sure." AJ smirked. "A garter snake?"

"No! I'd be a boa constrictor. I grab you—" He demonstrated on Joey. "And squeeeeeeeeeeze. Until you die."

Joey sighed and pried Chris gently off. "You've been in the caffeine again, haven't you?"

Chris, sensing an unreceptive audience, turned to demonstrate on JC instead. "Squeeeeeeeeze!"

JC squealed and dropped his pizza.

AJ rolled his eyes and went to join his own band mates, who were much more sane.

Brian trailed behind him, chuckling. "Those guys are... interesting."

"Nuts, is more like it. Makes me glad to be Backstreet."

Then Nick let out a banshee yell and leapt on Kevin's back, shouting, "Ride Ôem cowboy! Giddy-up!" Kevin immediately started romping around the room trying to throw him off, while Howie cheered them both on and called out ever-changing bets as to who would come out victorious.

"You were saying?" Brian said blandly.

AJ sighed and began mentally updating his rŽsumŽ.

~*~

It was his stomach that finally woke him up. Lance opened his eyes and lay quietly in the darkness, waiting until his eyes adjusted enough to allow him to see. He was alone in the room, the other bed still undisturbed. He closed his eyes again and burrowed under the covers, still feeling worn out and raw from his experience, but his growling and empty belly told him that he wouldn't be able to sleep again until he'd had something to eat. He sighed and sat up, folding the covers neatly to the side as he stood. He would have a quick snack in the kitchen—just enough to satisfy his stomach enough to let him sleep.

Lance marveled at the quiet as he stepped out of the bedroom. When he had shut himself away in that room, all of his friends had been in the main room, trying and failing to be relatively quiet. They had quickly forgotten to even try, and the noise had risen to party levels. It hadn't bothered him, though. He had actually found it comforting knowing that they were all close by and safe. He had fallen asleep to the sound of their loud laughter.

There was no sign now of that party atmosphere. The only evidence of it were the few plastic cups and plates still left out on various surfaces around the room. He sighed and had headed for one of them when something moved, and he froze, startled. "Justin?"

"Hey, Lance," Justin answered, giving a tiny wave. He was stretched out on the couch, his legs hanging over the sides, a small brown cat asleep on his chest. "What're you doing up?"

"I was hungry. Why are you guys out here?" Lance whispered, feeling guilty for confining the two to the couch. "There's a whole empty bed in there."

"Yeah, well...." Justin shrugged, disturbing JC, who let out a sleepy meow before stretching and going right back to sleep. "We didn't want to disturb you. Besides, the couch is really comfortable."

"Uh-huh. So why are you awake, then?"

Justin grinned. "I woke up when you did, smarty. Anyway, there's a few slices of pizza left in the fridge for you. Ham, mushrooms, and banana peppers."

"Great, thanks. That sounds good." He headed into the kitchen and found the pizza immediately, putting two slices on a plate and heating them in the microwave. Justin joined him and took an apple from the bowl on the counter. A glance back into the main room showed JC now curled up in Justin's warm spot.

"That shape-shifting thing comes in handy sometimes." Justin remarked, following Lance's gaze. "He was actually sleeping on the floor, until I brought him up onto the couch with me. Seemed perfectly content."

"Cats can sleep anywhere," Lance agreed, stopping the microwave before it could beep. "Well, and so can JC, really. But cats are smaller, so...."

"Right." Justin sat down across from him at the table, the two of them eating in companionable silence. "I hope we didn't disturb you too much, earlier," Justin said finally, looking a little guilty. "We knew you were back there, but I dunno. We kept catching ourselves being really, really loud."

"I didn't mind," Lance answered truthfully, and explained the way it had made him feel safe. "Besides, I was too wiped out for you guys to keep me awake for long."

"And now?"

"Still tired. But better. Not so.... It doesn't feel so fresh."

"Good." Justin finished his apple and tossed the core negligently toward the trash, smiling slightly when it fell directly in the center of the can.

"I'm pretty sleepy, myself. You mind if I take JC and make use of that other bed?"

"Knock yourself out. It'll be nice to have the company."

"Cool. Just in case I'm asleep when you come back, good night."

"Good night."

Lance watched as Justin picked up a seemingly spineless JC and disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. He rolled his eyes a bit. If that couch was comfortable, Britney Spears was a natural blonde.

He finished his pizza and cleaned up the suite before washing up and brushing his teeth to go back to bed. A glance at the clock on the DVD player told him it was close to 4:00 a.m. He hoped there would be no reason for them to get up before 10:00, but something told him that this morning would be an eventful one.

He grimaced and slammed the door shut on his Sight as he felt the ghost of that awful rage on the edges of his mind. His knees buckled for a moment and he caught himself on the wall, gritting his teeth and fighting hard to beat back the vision that threatened to rise to the surface. "No," he mumbled, and visualized a wall springing up all around him, blocking out everything from outside. He built it up and out, fortified it until it was rock solid, until the rage was locked out.

Lance opened his eyes cautiously and looked around. He'd done it right, this time. There was no physical shield, only a powerful mental one. No visions would get through until he was good and ready to let them. He staggered back into the bedroom, exhausted once again, but was content as he lay down and pulled the covers up to his neck. He would tell the others what he had done in the morning. They would just have to think of another way to do their investigating.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

~*~

Thump.

"Shh!" A hoarse whisper. "Be quiet or you'll wake the boy wonder!"

"Oh. Sorry, Justin."

"Jeez, Joey, don't say his name! You know he's got those bionic ears tuned, or something!"

"Oh, right! Sorry, sorry!"

Justin rolled his eyes and sighed explosively, but couldn't help a tiny smile. Those two were lucky he was already awake, or he'd have to open a can of whoop-ass on them. Well, on Chris, anyway. Whoop-ass didn't even phase Joey anymore.

Justin tried to roll over, but was completely pinned down by JC's weight. That was what had awakened him. At only a little after dawn, JC had apparently decided he didn't want to be a house cat anymore and had instead turned into a large, spotted jungle cat. And large, spotted jungle cats, Justin had discovered, were very heavy. He wondered idly what JC had been dreaming about to initiate the change, then decided he really didn't want to know.

"JC! Wake up!" he whispered loudly into the animal's ear. The ear twitched slightly and the large cat growled in its sleep, revealing a mouthful of long, sharp teeth. Justin gulped and went very still. "Never mind. Sorry."

There was an amused chuckle from the other side of the room. "Need some help?"

Justin rolled his head to the side and gave Lance his most lethal puppy dog eyes. "Please?"

Lance looked intently at the cat for a long moment, and then the weight on Justin's chest vanished as JC's body rose slowly into the air without changing position in the slightest. The moment there was enough room between him and the cat, Justin rolled out of the bed, hurrying to Lance's side. "Thanks, man. He's heavy in that form!"

"Feels feather-light to me," Lance deadpanned, putting JC gently back down on the bed. The cat barely moved at all, merely switching its tail just slightly and yawning again.

"Smartass," Justin snorted.

Lance grinned and headed for the door. "Let's go see if Chris and Joey are awake yet."

"Oh, they are," Justin answered, rolling his eyes. "They're in the kitchen, attempting to be quiet."

"You do realize you can't judge their quietness based on your hearing, right? That's kind of unfair."

"Chris is never quiet to anyone's hearing," Justin retorted. "Unless they're totally deaf."

"Well.... Yes, okay."

They found the two in the suite's kitchen, just as Justin had said, apparently having a staring match over their bowls of grapefruit halves.

"What in the world are you doing?" Lance asked incredulously, taking the words right out of Justin's mouth.

We're eating them unsweetened," Joey explained with his mouth full, "and seeing who finishes without making a face." Chris' eye twitched. "That counts! That totally counts! You lose!"

"What counts?!" Chris shrieked, throwing down his spoon. "You cheater!"

"You twitched!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

Justin was about to betray his best friend by confirming that yes, he had, when he heard a knock at the door. "I'll get it."

"Get what?" Lance asked, lowering the pitch of his voice to be heard beneath Chris and Joey's increasingly shrill disagreement.

"The door." Justin focused his hearing and smirked. "The Boys are outside. They're trying to guess who Chris is arguing with. So far, all they agree on is that it can't be you. Your voice doesn't go that high."

"Sure it does. If I strain."

"Right." Justin opened the door. "It's Joey. They're eating grapefruit. Come on in."

Nick frowned at him. "How come I couldn't get super hearing? My power sucks!"

"Why didn't you just look through the walls to see who it was?" Lance asked as they all entered the suite.

"Cheating," AJ answered succinctly.

"Ah."

"I told you it was Joey," Kevin gloated. "When will you learn to listen to me?"

"When pigs fly, old man!"

Kevin whapped AJ upside the head.

"What? It could have been JC! He can hit those notes, no problem!"

"Man, you have got such a crush on him!" Howie teased gleefully.

"I do n—"

Just then, JC entered the suite's main room—human again—yawning, stretching, and scratching his belly where his pajama top rode up. "Crush on who?"

AJ paled. "Oh, crap."

Brian, Nick, and Howie all collapsed on the floor laughing. Kevin's lips twitched. "Nothing. Forget it."

"AJ's got a boooooy crush! AJ's got a boooooy crush!"

Nick would have kept right on going had AJ not body-slammed him.

JC blinked sleepily. "I'm hungry. Is there food?"

"There will be, soon." Justin stepped over the writhing pile of Backstreet on the floor and picked up the phone, ordering three of everything on the room service menu. Then he retreated back into the relative peace of the second bedroom, crawled back into bed, and pulled the covers over his head. Something told him he'd already seen the last of whatever peace he was going to get for a long time.

~*~

"They've found the bodies."

Joey had known the moment Agents Welsh and Marks had knocked on their door that the news would be bad. So had everyone else, apparently. The pleasant mood in the room had vanished at the first sight of the two men, and any food that had not yet been finished was left to congeal on the plates.

"You were right, Lance," Agent Welsh continued, his voice weary. "There were three men—homeless, unidentified as of yet—found in a warehouse about four miles from the research facility the cones escaped from. Just about four miles from city limits."

"Did they catch them?" Johnny wanted to know, sounding as though he already knew the answer.

"No," Welsh answered, shaking his head grimly. "They were there, but they got away, leaving two cops dead and six seriously injured."

Lance went absolutely white. Joey grabbed him by the arm and quickly ushered him to the couch. Chris and Justin got up to give them room.

"No, quit it," Lance snapped, trying to push Joey away. "I'm fine!"

"Sure you are," Joey said good-naturedly, casually draping an arm across his shoulders to keep him seated. "Just humor me."

"How did they die?" Howie asked, his eyes downcast.

"All of the injuries and deaths were the result of severe electric shock," Marks answered. "It was as though they were all struck by lightning. Repeatedly."

"So it was 128, then," Kevin concluded. "169 doesn't have that kind of power."

"Probably so, yes." Welsh sounded almost reluctant. "But we can't afford to discount him. They both have to be considered armed and dangerous until we can prove otherwise."

"What more proof do you need?" JC asked, his voice clipped. "Your own witnesses said 128 was the dangerous one, and all of the injuries have been caused by 128, but you still need proof?"

"He could still be an accessory," Marks responded apologetically.

"He could also be a prisoner. You haven't even given him a chance. You've tried and convicted him—"

"We're doing our jobs," Welsh interrupted tersely. "We've got hundreds of people dead and we want it stopped. I'd thought you did, too."

JC's suddenly cat-like eyes narrowed and he let out a low growl. Joey swore he saw JC's canines grow.

"You're out of line, Agent Welsh," Johnny said flatly. "Way out of line."

Welsh let out a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. "I know. I'm sorry. Look.... I knew the two cops who died, alright? They had families, kids. I want these guys put away. Soon."

"And they will be," Brian assured him. "Let's go take a look at that warehouse. Maybe we'll find something useful, huh Lance?"

Lance pursed his lips and didn't answer.

~*~

The bodies had been removed by the time they arrived at the scene. Brian was relieved at that—Lance didn't look as though he would have been able to handle the sight of them. As it was, his face was drawn and pale, his posture rigid, his manner closed-off.

The warehouse itself was nondescript. It didn't look like a place where five men had been murdered. Only the abandoned pile of blankets in one corner gave away that people had lived here once. In any case, all five men had gone on to their eternal rewards. Brian could feel no trace of them here, and was glad of it. It felt nice to help people, but it was also draining. Every time he did it, he caught the barest hint of something wondrous, something warm and peaceful, just out of reach. It was comforting to have absolute proof that his faith all these years had been justified—not that he'd needed it—but it was harder and harder each time to turn away from that siren song.

Brian sighed and looked around at all of his friends. They, and his family, were what kept his feet firmly on the ground in this world. They were what anchored him every time that heavenly door opened. He would go through that door one day, when God was ready to have him, but in the meantime, he had an earthly reward right here. How many people could honestly say they had nine good friends? Nine people they would trust not only with their lives, but the lives of their families? Most people were lucky to have one friend like that. Three-a.m. friends, Nick called them. The kind of friends you could call at three a.m. when you needed to. The kind of friends you could tell your deepest, darkest secrets to. The kind of friends who would give their lives to save yours. Best friends. Family in all but blood. Yes. He was lucky to have them all. He'd have to make sure to tell them that, sometime soon.

"Something's up with Lance," Kevin said, materializing suddenly to his right, startling him.

"Huh?

Kevin chuckled. "Woolgathering, Cousin?"

Brian grinned sheepishly. "Apparently. Just thinking about how much I love you guys."

"Aww, isn't that sweet. We love you too, Rok."

Brian grinned as Kevin gave him a quick, manly, one-armed hug. "Thanks. Have you guys come up with anything?"

"Nope. We're not investigators, you know. I don't know what we thought we'd find here, but nothing's happening."

"Lance isn't picking anything up?"

"Not a thing. I don't think he can."

"Why not?"

"You want fact or you want my theory?"

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other," Brian shrugged flippantly, then dodged Kevin's swat.

"Theory, then," Kevin nodded. "I think he's too messed up by what happened at that facility to pick anything up. Welsh keeps pushing him and he just gets more and more tense. Says he doesn't know."

"You think he's... blocking out the answers? Like he blocked us out with that globe?"

"Yeah, I believe so. He was pretty traumatized. I don't think I'd want to do it, either, if I was him. It's too dangerous."

"No," Brian said thoughtfully. "I suppose not."

"So we have to get our answers the other way," Kevin continued. "Good old-fashioned police work." Then he turned a shrewd eye on his cousin. "Or, you know, ghosts."

Brian smiled slightly. "Sorry. There aren't any at the moment."

"No?" Kevin raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I thought you always had some hanging around."

"They all move on, eventually. I saw the last of the cloned kids go last night."

"Oh. Well, that's good, isn't it? I'm glad."

"Me, too."

"Me, three," Nick added, coming up behind them and hooking his chin over Kevin's shoulder. "What did I just agree to?"

"We decided not to give you any solos on the next album," Kevin answered, without skipping a beat, "and to cut back your visibility in the photo shoots. We figure people've got to be sick of you by now."

"I know I am," Justin agreed, joining them and playfully slapping Nick's shoulder. "Do I get a vote?"

"Sure." Kevin inclined his head toward where Lance stood glowering at Agent Welsh, JC and Joey flanking him on either side. "Is everything okay over there?"

"Not exactly," Justin sighed. "Lance is all, I dunno. Weird. And Welsh won't get off his case. Chris had to go outside because he was getting all pissed off and he didn't want to burn down a crime scene."

Brian felt the tingle that signified an otherworldly visitor and tuned out of the conversation, opening his mind to it. This was different than all of the others he'd dealt with. Less distinct, somehow, and hesitant. I'm here, he sent quietly. Come to me, I can help."

And all at once, it was there. Brian gasped and stumbled backwards as an apparition exploded into being just in front of him. "Nick!"

But it wasn't Nick. He knew that the moment he said it. Nick was behind him, supporting his as his knees went suddenly weak. But it looked like Nick. It had the same face, the same eyes. Help him, it pleaded, those familiar eyes frightened and sad. Help him.

"I...." Brian struggled to stand, pushing away the hands reaching to steady him. "Who? Who needs help?" But he knew, even as he asked it. "...169?"

Help him. The apparition flickered once and vanished, but the voice came from behind them, at the warehouse door. Help him.... Come quickly.... Help him....

Brian turned and started to run, trusting that the others would follow. His heart was pounding, his throat tight. This was unlike any ghost he'd seen. Why did it pain him so much to see it? Why did it glow that way, exuding such warmth? There was only one real answer. It had already moved on. It had seen paradise, but it had returned here, to the world that had caused it only pain in life, all to help a friend. You loved him, he thought, eyes on 154's transparent back.

I did, came the soft answer. I do. Hurry.

Brian ran faster.

~*~

Howie leaned up against the wall of the warehouse and sighed, running a hand through his shoulder-length curls. Somehow, despite a good six hours sleep the night before, he felt tired and drawn, the way he always did after several weeks of touring. It was odd, though. They hadn't been on tour since the last one had been interrupted all those months ago by their kidnapping and sudden acquisition of super powers.

Maybe it was more of an emotional fatigue, he mused. Things were pretty intense these days, with the clones running around murdering people. Not to mention the strange feeling he got whenever he thought about how the murderer they were all looking for had his face.

Howie sighed again and closed his eyes. It was definitely emotional fatigue. Ever since he had found out about his clone, he had been troubled. Yes, Welsh and Marks had said that the illness had affected 128's mind, but how much of that cruelty was the fault of the illness? Could he possibly have the potential for that kind of violence inside him?

He shuddered and pushed that thought away. He couldn't have that inside him, or he would have known by now. Someone would have pissed him off and he'd have felt the urge to do them harm. Usually, when someone pissed him off, he just wanted them to go away. Did that mean he was in the clear, or did it just mean no one had made him angry enough yet to unleash the monster inside him?

He tried to think about the times he'd been angry. There were plenty of times growing up when he'd been teased or snubbed for being too Hispanic, too "girly," too short. And then there were times when he was older and had stopped growing, but the people all around him kept getting taller. There had been nasty arguments with his family or with the guys—ugly words that they hadn't been able to take back, days without speaking. How angry had he been then? Pretty angry. Furious. Especially when AJ had said—

He cut that thought off. AJ had apologized repeatedly, after all. There was no point rehashing it when it only agitated him all over again. But wait.... Maybe that was a good thing. If he thought about it and got mad again....

He opened his eyes and looked around until he found AJ, who had gotten bored with watching Lance's standoff against Welsh and had wandered over to join Kevin, Brian, and Nick near the main doors of the warehouse. No, that wouldn't work. He wasn't angry about it anymore, just hurt. And even that wasn't as strong as it had been, since he knew AJ was genuinely sorry about it.

Could he ever cause bodily harm to him? To any of them? Could he have, even then, when the anger was fresh? He knew his answer immediately. No. Even when he was angry with them, he still loved them. And anyone he didn't love certainly wasn't worth stressing over enough to want to hurt them. Maybe he was safe from the insanity that was eating 128 alive. Maybe—

His train of thought derailed and he narrowed his eyes, frowning, as Brian suddenly staggered, Kevin letting out an explanation of surprise and dismay. Nick grabbed hold of Brian from behind, steadying him. "Brian?" Howie called, hurrying to Brian's side just in time to hear him speak.

"Who? Who needs help?" Brian paused for a second, then his eyes widened. "169?"

"Welsh!" Kevin called, still holding on to Brian's arm, "Get over here, something's happening!"

Then Brian twisted out of Nick's arms and started to run. "Wait, hold it!" Howie cursed under his breath and followed. "Brian...!"

He stopped trying to get Brian's attention and concentrated on just running. He hoped they didn't have too far to go—Brian was running at full speed, forcing the rest of them to do the same just to keep up. Years of dancing and constant touring kept the members of the two groups in pretty good shape, but he could hear both Welsh and Marks already starting to breathe with more difficulty. Johnny was nowhere to be seen, and Sexual Chocolate and the other security team were behind as well.

Just when Brian was starting to slow down, stumbling on every other step, he stopped suddenly, then turned abruptly and walked almost timidly toward a nondescript alley between two brick buildings. "Here?" he said to the air, and Howie followed at a short distance as Brian stepped cautiously into the darkness of the alley. Then he stopped short. "Oh, my God."

Howie silently echoed that sentiment, his mouth going dry. There was no mistaking the identity of the small body lying crumpled on the ground. Even twisted, face-down, beaten and bloodied, it was still.... AJ. But not.

169 was too small. His limbs were thin, the bones showing clearly through the bloodied skin, and his dark hair was limp and almost grayish. One arm lay at an awkward angle, the lump of the broken bone clearly visible under the skin.

"Oh my God," Brian said again.

169 whimpered.

And that was all it took.

It was Nick who moved first, leaping forward and falling to his knees beside the crumpled body, placing a carefully gentle hand on one bony shoulder. "Shhh," he whispered, leaning close. "We're not gonna hurt you. We want to help."

JC came forward then, as well, along with Chris, Kevin, and Joey. The five of them gathered around 169, lifting him as gently as possible and turning him over onto his back. Wide, terrified brown eyes stared up at them, a continuous whimpering whine issuing from between his lips, until he saw Nick's face. "Fi... Fifty-four?" He asked, his voice a mere whisper.

Nick looked away. "No. I.... I'm sorry. No."

169 whimpered again, and closed his eyes. Howie stepped closer, moving in to see more clearly, and 169's eyes flew open, meeting his own.

"Noooo! Noooo!" 169 immediately began to struggle, his panic making his breath come in short gasps as he tried with all of his remaining strength to get away.

Howie cursed and stepped back, then turned and ran, pushing past a startled Johnny, barely hearing it as Nick raised his voice to be heard above 169's panicked cries, trying to reassure the broken man that he was safe, Howie wouldn't hurt anybody.

Tears burned his eyes as he ran, trying to get as much space between them as he could. God, the fear in AJ's eyes.... No, in 169's eyes. Not AJ. Not AJ, thank God.

He made himself stop running and stood, leaning against a filthy brick wall, breathing hard. 169 had looked at him like some kind of monster. Like some kind of....

Well, he was a monster, wasn't he? At least to 169. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It wasn't personal. It wasn't him 169 was so afraid of, it was 128, a man who just happened to have his face. What was he going to do? He couldn't just go back there and expect everything to be okay. 169 would never be able to look at him without fear, not now, so soon after his ordeal. Maybe it would be best if he just left. But what if they needed him, somehow? There had to be a way to compromise. And why the Hell hadn't he thought of this before? Maybe—

"Hey."

Howie looked up, startled, as he heard a voice to his left. He turned and froze as he came face-to-face with... himself.

128 pushed away from the wall on which he'd been leaning and walked slowly toward him, his dark brown eyes cold and penetrating. "Pretty stupid of you to run off like that," 128 said conversationally as he raised one hand, crackling with electricity. "You made things much too easy."

The last thing Howie saw was his own face in a grotesque parody of a smile.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Email: kittie.verdena@gmail.com