NOTE:  This takes place AFTER the Payback thread.  We've been waiting to release this, and the events will not be diminished or plans changed due to JShowell's need to leave TCQ.  

This is a story of duty.

Duty born of blood. Duty born of Fear. And duty born of darkness.

JACE paced the floor in frustration.  The emotion was quite unfamiliar to him.  Usually he could accomplish anything to which he set his mind.  For once, however, even his brilliant intellect seemed insufficient to the task.  Despite his intelligence and his financial resources, he lacked the connections necessary to accomplish his goal. 

He had searched every DNA database on the planet, had scoured the city with his DNA detector on, he had even resorted to scanning warehouses looking for any sign of them, but the people who had kidnapped and tortured him had vanished.  After examining the possibilities, he had determined there were only three possible courses of action left to him.

It was later than JACE had intended to return in the morning, but his late night meeting with Ophilia had forced him to sleep longer than was usual.  It shouldn't be a significant problem, however.  None of the experiments currently running were particularily time sensitive.  In addition, it was unlikely anyone else would be in today, unless they were forced to be.  As he moved down the hallway towards the laboratory, he continued his mental list of what experiments he needed to remove and how to do so safely.  The viral manipulation experiment was, by far, the most sensitive and dangerous.  He prefered it here.  If something went wrong he would much rather destroy the cathedral than his home.  After his discussion with Angelo last night, however, he

He never looked forward to the Harvest Festival. Not even a little. It wasn't simply his aversion to physical sports, no real art or craft or knack with the livestock; he was never the competitive sort, so these contests never inspired him. He hadn't his older brothers' strength or dexterity, or his younger brother's creativity, or even his sister's dashing looks or charm. And he had long since accepted his father's disapproval for it, as well. Despite this gnawing feeling of inadequacy, however, it was rather, above all else, yet another affirmation that he was alone that festered this dislike of the annual event.

She'd taken to wandering around his brothers room, now that he was gone.

Renaldo could find her there at least once a day, either sitting at his brothers desk flipping through one of his books, or staring blankly at his monitor, her once-tanned face now pale and drawn. Sometimes she would flip through the books and journals, her movements careful and slow. The movements of the elderly, or the addict. Her eyes were more often than not heavy-lidded from the medications she insisted on taking "For the pain, dear. For the pain" she would say to him, cupping his cheek in her palm before descending the stairs, her fingers cool upon his face.

This piece was originally begun by Andy Mathews and myself. Andy did not get a chance to complete it but with the help of jshowell we were able to tie up the loose ends and bring it to a conclusion.

The shimmering trail was fairly easy to pick up with thermal vision. Raphael watched from about half a mile away. She landed somewhere near LeMastre park. The Latin Dragons were going to hit members of Posse 187 there tonight. Raphael thought, Her intel must be pretty good for her to hear that.

Certified Pre-Owned. It was another name for somebody else’s worn out ride. But cars seemed to sell themselves when Jeff Melbourne got hold of them. Salesman of the week. Of the month. Of the year. Twelve hours a day, five and a half days a week (Saturdays they closed early so the boss could make his tee-time). It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it paid. And he was good at it. They gave him the sales manager position and things were working out okay.

It was the longest walk of her life. And one she would not soon forget. As they moved north, away from the Numbers, and crossed over from Freetown into Riverside Hills, Ophilia felt a wave of relief. Not that she felt especially safe in Riverside, certainly not at this hour, but it was different here -- for some reason, she felt like the worst was behind her.

Sebastian kept a silent eye on a group of shadows that had followed them for several blocks, but decided not to pursue them into the neighborhoods of Riverside. There might have been as many as fifteen of them at one time. Whatever had kept them at bay for so long was beyond him. Until the last one shrank back into the last alley, he held his breath.

When he finally woke, he wasn’t sure just how long he’d been asleep. Three or four hours. Maybe longer. The infant, Magdalene, was stirring, rooting for another feeding. They lay under a footbridge somewhere on the edge of Hudson City Park, but it could have been an apocalyptic version of Eden. Dawn was still hours away.