Damien was in his office at the new AIST headquarters, browsing through his various e-mail accounts trying to separate the gems that actually needed his attention from the dross that could be delegated, when an alert prompted him of a new e-mail in his Brainstorm account.

He pulled up that account on the Olympians server. He was confused because he'd already sorted through and handled that account hours ago. There shouldn't have been any activity this soon, especially since he'd updated the filters to re-route and dump anything that could be handled elsewhere.

The message was forwarded from the main Olympian server and flagged by Mike as a high priority. There was even an attachment, which Damien knew the AI never allowed to get through. He saved the attachment and keyed the intercom code that connected him securely with Mike. "Mike, It's Damien. I just got your message. I see you flagged it. Whats up?"

"It's a resume. I can attest to how good the guy is who sent it. He managed to give me a run for the money." Mike answered. If Damien didn't know better he would think the AI sounded embarrassed.

"Is he looking for employment at AIST or with the Olympians?" Damien asked as he perused the resume. "And what do you mean he gave you a run for your money?"

"With the Olympians." There was a very long pause. "He nearly got through my security measures trying to find a private email address for you."

"Seriously? This guy is that good?" Damien couldn't believe it. "How close did he get?"

"Too close for my comfort." Mike answered reluctantly.

Damien paused a moment. This was serious. Mike was embarrassed, and Mike was the best Damien had ever heard of. Being an AI gave him certain advantages but for a human to get far enough into the AI's security to make him nervous spoke volumes.

"What do you have on him and are we secure?"

"What I could find on him says he's a scientist who worked with the Russian government. He disappeared a few months ago. I can dig deeper but it will take some time if I don't want to be detected. As for being secure . . ." Mike hesitated, "If what I've been able to find out about him and from his attempt to breach me, I'd say there was a good chance he could get through given enough time."

Damien was quiet for a few minutes as he processed the information before him. "OK. Here's what we'll do. I will send him an e-mail, from the general account, notifying him that his resume has peaked our interest, and schedule an interview in a week. Will that give you enough time to come up with a good file on him?"

"I already have a back door into most of the systems I will need to access. The time consuming part is covering my tracks as I go. A week should be sufficient."

"Good. Will you be able to shore up our defenses as well?"

"That will take more time."

"Understood. Do what you can and we'll go from there. Keep an eye on things and alert me immediately if he starts sniffing around again." Damien's voice held a note of concern, not for security but for the AI. Mike had to be shaken to even show this level of uncomfortableness. "I'll see if Gypsy has any ideas on it as well."

Damien paused a moment, composing his thoughts before logging into the Olympians general mail box. His fingers flew across the keys as he composed a formal reply to this unusual applicant.

Damien re-read the short missive, fixed a typo or two, re-worded an awkward sentence, then typed in the e-mail address included on Zlenko's resume and clicked the send button. He hoped that he wasn't making a mistake. The new recruits were shaping up to be a major handful. Much more so than the personality mix he'd had to deal with when he first joined the team. And he had to handle them without Percy's unique wisdom and experience.

Times like these showed just how much he missed his friend and how badly he hated being thrust into the leadership position. Running a corporation was much easier, even one as large and diverse as AE had become.

Speaking of difficult, Damien thought to himself, I still have to deal with Gypsy. Hopefully the fact that it's Mike that needs her will make this easier. Damien took a deep breath and dialed her number.

He got three numbers into dialing when his Olympians communicator began to beep.

"What the hell?" Damien muttered hanging up the phone. Damien thought about who could be contacting him. Widow had left, unable to handle the loss of her mentor/lover. Percy and Euphoria were gone as well, he to places unknown, she back to the diplomatic world as far as Damien knew. Will hadn't been seen since the day he stomped out of the base. Tribe had gotten a gig on a new James Bond movie, or some such, and while he could literally be in two places at once, the strain of losing his 'brother' had necessitated a break. Forrestal was off tracking a lead to get himself home.

That left Deep Freeze, Tetris, and Osprey. Tetris was in class at this time of day, and Osprey was in the gym. The new guy, Veil hadn't been given a communicator or access yet. He didn't think Deep Freeze was on patrol. He connected to the AI again. "Mike, who's active?"

"No one at the moment. I was just about to contact you though. There is another breach in my system."

Now alarmed, Damien pulled the communicator out of it's charger, and hooked it over his ear, where it settled comfortably. He hit the answer button. **Brainstorm. Go**

**Hello? Hello?**

The accent was heavy Eastern Europe, Russian but not quite.

**Hello, this is Mykola Zlenko speaking with you and pleasing to be meeting you on audio and hopefully soon on video or in actual seeing. I am hoping you are well.**

Zlenko? How the hell had he penetrated their comms system. Mike had said the guy was good, but all comms went through Mike, which meant the guy had gotten in farther than Mike had previously estimated. Was that possible? Damien coughed to hide his shock.

**Mr. Zlenko, this is Brainstorm, the leader of the Olympians. Do you realize you are on a private communications frequency? Do you also realize that your continued efforts to penetrate my team's security systems is a violation of several US and International Cyber-crime laws? This is not the way to impress me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't track you down like any other criminal.** Damien was truly pissed off now.

**No, no, no, this is confused,** was the reply.  **I had thinking that you would be sending email and then was thinking that I wanted to know as soon as is being possible and then I was thinking of how I reply to the email and then I was thinking I build communication clone.**

The tone of his voice rose and fell like a roller coaster with each 'then'.  ** But then I remember I make promise to Mike that I do not make attempts future to penetrate Olympians secure systems so then I am thinking that I build parallel semi-restrictive communications prototype clone.  This is meaning that I am only do uhhhh like 'pingy-pingy' on Olympian communications network.  I am not actually accessing Mike's network, more like uhhhh plane flying through the cloud.  Yes.  Please be verifying Mike.**

There was a brief pause, followed by, **So, you are being well?**

Who the hell is this guy? Damien was floored. He needed to either shut this man down, or bring him on board ASAP, this in-between stage was too much of a risk.

**Stand-By, Mr. Zlenko** Damien said through gritted teeth. He muted the comms unit. "Mike, what's the breach? Is this guy accessing the network, the comms system, or what?" 

Damien pulled his cell phone and typed a quick text to Gypsy. Network Security Breach. Mike needs your help. Yesterday. Damien didn't know where she was, but he hoped she had her cell phone on her.

Zlenko sighed through the comm, **Yes, okay, I am in the standing by now.** 

"I don't think he's accessed my main systems but he's managed to tap into the comm system. He shouldn't be able to do that. Gypsy just logged in. I will see while you keep him busy." The AI answered.

Damien ground his teeth in frustration. He had the most sophisticated software, and engineers that money could buy, an AI system administrator that should be untouchable and this Zlenko was cutting through it all like it wasn't there. Clone the communications network? How the hell did you do that? How did he even know what the frequency's or encryption was like?

Damien took a deep calming breath and un-muted his comms unit. **Mr. Zlenko. My team is checking the validity of your statement. You have to realize this is all highly unorthodox behavior. A simple e-mail response to mine would have been sufficient.**

**Unorthodox?** A pause.  **Unorthod--... oh no no, I am not religious man.  I am hoping this is not disqualification for job.  About email, yes, would be as you say suff-eee-shent, but not uhhh big impression.  Are you knowing about dynamic adaptive algorhythmic transmission cloning protocols and how to use them with uhhh things you find in junkyard like fax machine and old fridge?**

Damien jotted down the phrase Zlenko had just used, and hoped Mike was monitoring as well. Perhaps it would give a clue on how to block the man. **I don't but our techs might. Wait, did you say a junkyard, fax machine and refrigerator? And I didn't mean Orthodox, as in Orthodox Catholicism, I meant unorthodox as in unconventional. Your initial attempt to forward the resume was impressive enough. Additional displays become worrisome.**

**Unconventional... oh I see, I make boo boo.  English I am teaching self.  I am thinking - never mind what I am thinking.  I do not want the worry, but this is okay as I have coordinates now.  Please the one moment.**

There came a sudden visual shift accompanied by something akin to a static charge that tingled the hairs on Damien's neck.  The image at first seemed like a trick of light as a three-dimensional human form took shape in the middle of his office.  There was no warning to any of it and the only sound was a muffled shorting-out electrical fizz.

It was all over in about half a second and there stood a scruffy man, perhaps in his thirties, unshaven and of straight shoulder-length brown hair.  He wore a brown suit and tie which were clean and pressed but ill-fitting and several years out of style.  His socks were a poor match, as they were too light and the pants too short to conceal the faux pas.  It looked like he did his shopping at the Salvation Army. 

The oddest thing about him wasn't the smile that seemed to defy the complete strangeness of the situation.  It was the Tampa Bay Buccaneers cap he wore.  It had three small circuit boards clipped to the outside at queer angles which were wired together along the outside of the hat.  Thin cables ran from them to a flashlight clipped to his belt.  The lens and bulb of the flashlight were missing and the wires ran into the hole.

Damien felt the presence of the man's mind for only a moment.  The man slid the flashlight's power switch into the 'on' position and it was as if his mind had clouded over to become completely unreadable, like an old television that only showed snow. A small green LED attached to the bottom of the hat brim lit up.  The man's eyes rolled upward to check it and he nodded once before he stepped forward and extended his hand to Damien. 

"Hello and good to be meeting you.  I am Mykola Zlenko."

Damien nearly shit himself as he stared at man in front of him. This had gone terribly off-script. Damien gathered his wits quickly and punched a button under his desk, three times in rapid succession. The door to his office clicked as security bolts slid into place locking the door. A soft hiss sounded from the AC vents in the celiing as knockout gas slowly filled the room. Simultaneously, an alert went off on his security team's console, his assistant's computer screen and in Olympian HQ, both of them.

He'd installed the system as a 'last resort' security measure should any meta's choose to target him to get to the team. He'd never suspected he'd have to use it, confident his own abilities would warn him far enough in advance to handle any attack. Damien's thoughts started to go fuzzy as the effects of the gas drove him towards unconsciousness. He had barely enough time to hope Zlenko didn't have a way to counter the gas effects before the blackness started to seep into his thoughts. He knew his security team's orders. Secure anyone in the office, and .. wait, what was going on?, Oh yeah, unauthorized acc.... The abyss of drug induced unconsciousness swallowed him. 

Mykola had enough time to utter, "Oh, I am thinking I make the boo boo agaiinnnn...."  *thud*

********************
Damien's thoughts swam through a fog of drug induced blackness. Voices echoed through the blackness, distorted by the heavy fog. The words were indistinguishable, but the tones were full of concern and urgency. Damien focused his will on understanding them, and the fog thinned slightly. 

"Mr. Alexander. Can you here me?"

There fog swirled and the words lost co-hesion again. He tried to respond but his body was lead, he could not force the words out. Damien felt a pressure in one of his arms, and a cold sensation. He didn't know how long it lasted, but eventually the fog thinned again. His mouth was dry, and he had a metallic taste in it. 

"Mr. Alexander? Can you hear me?"

Damien tried again. Yes. I can hear you. A soft groan registered, but no words.

"He's regaining conciousness. Keep the IV going, and let me know when he's fully awake."

Damien recognized the voice as the physician he kept on payroll for the AIST infirmary. That recognition re-assured Damien. At least this portion of the protocols were being observed. He was impatient for the counter-agent to fully dispel the knockout gas's effects, but knew he could do nothing but wait. This didn't improve his mood. As the fog thinned slowly, Damien reviewed the mornings events, trying ot figure out exactly where things had gone so drastically wrong.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything he could have done differently. This man Zlenko had managed to by-pass any and all security measures Damien and Mike had devised. What was he going to do? Damien pondered his options as he waited for the fog to clear completely and he could get to the bottom of Zlenko's intrusion.

***************
 
Mykola awoke slowly.  He was sitting on the floor, his back up against the corner of a room.  The room was featureless except for the one door and a mirror on the opposite wall that ran from halfway up the wall to the ceiling.

He stood, stretched, and yawned.  Must have been some kind of subduing gas, he thought.  They are either paranoid or security-minded to the point to give the Russians a run for their money.

He studied the mirror and then approached it.  He'd seen enough American television in his few months in-country to know a one-way mirror when he saw it.  This was an interrogation room.  Okay, so now what?

He could just go home.  But then what?  If his goal was to get hired by the Olympians then that wouldn't help.  HE looked closely at the mirror.  He could go to the other side of it, assuming there was a room where people could watch him be interrogated.  But thinking that situation through led him to believe they'd just freak out again and that wouldn't help either.

No, he'd stay.  Let them come to him on their own terms, and he would convince them.  Mykola returned to the corner where he woke up and sat down to lean against it.

"Okay..." he called out.  "I am being ready for you now."

***************

Damien watched impasively from the observation room. He'd been awake long enough to debrief with the security team, make his excuses and change into his armor. Mike was still analyzing the video feedback and the data from the comm system intrusion.

Damien focused his senses on Zlenko, intent on discovering as much as he could about the man before he entered the room. He built a mental profile as his senses fed him information. Zlenko was obviously intelligent, a genius beyond even Damien's level, which impressed him. The strength of his mind was below Damien's own. He had no inherent mental defenses or abilities, beyond the vast intelligence, that Damien could identify.

Since Damien had been knocked out along with Zlenko, he'd been unable to probe the man's thoughts to determine if the man's actions were an attack, or just bad judgement. A deficiency Damien was prepared to fix. But instead of brute force, Damien would do it in the interview.

He nodded to the AIST security staff. "Keep everything recording." His voice was hard, even behind the electronic modulation. He left the room and moved into the interrogation room, the door clicking shut behind him with a clang.

"And I am now ready for you, Mr. Zlenko. Do you realize just how much trouble you're in?" Damien cast his mind across the short distance, letting his thoughts settle like gossamer threads on the flow of Zlenko's thoughts.

There was recognition, an overpowering curiosity, and Damien knew the question before it was asked: why the costume.  as rapidly as the question had formed, the answer was deduced: the people on the other side of the mirror might not know.  Then there was general acceptance followed by embarrassment at what must have been a social faux pas and regret at likely having lost his chance at reaching his goal.

"I am already in trouble much, thank you," which was true, "but that is not yet your problem," also true and accompanied by a momentary flash of a research lab and some nasty men.  "I apologize if in excitement I am... am not..." He was trying to verbalize the thought regarding the social faux pas but the words weren't clicking.  Finally he sighed.  "I am sorry, my English is not being good."

Damien indicated a chair. "Have a seat Mr. Zlenko. We have much to discuss, and you might as well be comfortable."

Mykola looked around the corner in which he was propped.  "But I am already sitting?"

Damien paused a moment. "I haven't had time to acquaint myself withyour background and any trouble you might have from past exploits, however your actions today have me gravely concerned." Damien crossed to the wall opposite Zlenko, leaned as if relaxing, but Mykola could sense the tension in the armored hero. "Before I get into any other questions. I want you to give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you over to the appropriate authorities for your little stunt earlier."

Mykola got slowly to his feet.  "Okay..."  And then he was gone.  There was that similar pixellating television staticy thing and then he just wasn't there anymore.

Damien had caught the ghost of a thought, a location, or something but he had absolutely no time to react before Zlenko vanished out of the room.

"FUUUUCK!" Damien shouted. This was getting fucking ridiculous. Who the hell was this man? How had he missed that ability? Everything the man had been wearing and in his pockets had been removed. Damien was pissed. He had underestimated this man at every turn. That was about to change.

Brainstorm's communicator began to beep.

**Mr. Zlenko, I presume?**

**Hello, yes, it is Zlenko.  This is good reason, yes?**  There was a moment's pause before, **Although, I think I am having better one.**

In the same manner in which he left, Mykola reappeared before Brainstorm in the interrogation room.  He stepped to the chair and sat down.

"Trust.  Your question is being about trust.  So, I give you trust for me."  He tapped a finger on the side of his head.  "Go ahead and take a look at whatever you like within, uhhh, past three months.  This should give you full story pretty much.  Please do not be going more back as I have done things in college for which I am not being all too proud right now."

The Ukranian sniffed and waited.

Damien wasn't sure what to make of this odd man. However, never one to waste an opportunity, Damien took the man on his offer and plunged his mind into Zlenkos's as deep as could. He resisted the urge to open this man's mind like a book and read his entire history. Instead he focused on the the time period requested, reserving the option to dig deeper should a thread of memory or thought require more background.

He also monitored the man's active thoughts, and intentions in case Zlenko tried to phase out again, any warning and Damien intended to blast the man into unconsciousness.

The lab... the advanced quantum mechanics research... the Russian SVR... the fear... Mykola drugging his wife's "friend"... the transdimensional relocation device... his wife's betrayal... his struggle against the agents... the explosion... waking up in the Everglades... discovering the abandoned warehouse... crafting devices out of junk to survive... meeting the high schoolers... tutoring them... seeing the Olympians on television and getting this fantastic idea...

Damien saw it all in crisp detail - what Mykola had been subject to in Russia, his escape attempt, his arrival and eventual settling in Florida.  It didn't speak of an agent of chaos sent to throw him curveballs until his brain exploded in frustration.  He was simply a gifted man who had bad circumstances thrust upon him and who showed great strength of character in overcoming them. 

Damien filed the information away but couldn't shake the feeling that he was violating the trust that Zlenko was trying to build. Damien actually began to feel a little guilty. He didn't like the feeling one bit. Not at all. Damien broke the link. "Yes, Mr. Zlenko it's over." Damien answered the man's surface thoughts. "Thank you for your trust. I'm now convinced you're not a threat, just overzealous. Please, can you tell me why its so important for you to join the Olympians?" ?

"I feel mutual beneficial," Mykola replied.  "I am thinking you see now what I can bring to table.  For me, I want place to be living better than abandoned warehouse and less fear that SVR agents to be appearing while I sleep to take me back to Russia freak room."

He scratched at the stubble on his cheek.  "And... I am thinking maybe you have better materials than I find in junk yard."

Damien nodded. It was time to lay some cards on the table. "I agree you have a lot of talents and skills I could use on the team. Our corporate sponsor could use them as well. And yes, as a member of either team, you would certainly be able to afford a better standard of living and have access to much better toys and materials. What concerns me most is the predicament you're in. If I recommend you for a spot on the team, you still have to be approved by our corporate sponsor, who is going to want assurances that this SVR won't attempt to extradite you or simply take you. You have to be legally employable in the US." Damien was ticking items off his fingers. "There is the matter of any charges that may be filed against you in your home country. And you have to toe the line, no more cowboy maneuvers like you've pulled today."

Mykola nodded.  These were reasonable concerns. 

"SVR problem is solving itself," he said.  "They would never do funny business if I was member of organization.  Political calculus would say no to doing this - not that they wouldn't for sure be watching me like all the time.  As for employment status, I am not exactly... uhhh... how you say legal.  But I have come to America in great tradition of Cuban people, which is my understanding generally accepted in this part of country."

Mykola smiled, oblivious to the analogy's implications or ironies.  "As for charges, I was prisoner.  You know this.  I act in self defense of freedom." 

He paused as if finished, and then asked, "You say cowboy.  This I like.  Can be code name?"

Damien chuckled, which sounded decidedly odd coming through his voice modulator. "Mykola, you can call yourself whatever you please. I believe we can work out your legal status, though it may make take a little while. In the mean time, I can probably work out a work visa of some sort." 

Damien reached into a small pouch on his belt. He pulled out what looked like a credit card along with a business card in black and silver and handed it to Zlenko. "Here, this is a prepaid Visa. Use it to find better accommodations. Call it an advance. Use the number on the business card to contact me. And please, don't give Mike, or myself, any more heart attacks okay?" 

Mykola flipped the plastic card over and over as he carefully studied it.  "This is visa?" he asked.  "Look like credit card."

Damien had a sudden urge to smack his forehead in frustration. It was obvious by now that Zlenko was going to be a handful, the least of it being an obvious lack of knowledge of American colloquialisms. What had he gotten himself into? "Yes, it's a credit card." Damien tried to sound patient. "The brand name of the company that issued the card is Visa. I still have a lot of work to do before i can get your immigration visa for you. Just use the card for whatever you need, as long as it's legal." ?

"O-kaaay," Mykola said resignedly as he tucked the cards into his pocket.  "What about working space?" he asked.  "You have lab or warehouse or something?  I need many space for proofs of concept, experiments, so on and so on.  Power supply must be good," he added lastly, with emphasis.

"I assure you, once everything is ironed out, you'll have whatever you need. Until then, you'll have to bide your time. It shouldn't take long." Damien reassured the Ukrainian.

Mykola nodded.  "Good.  When lab is ready I live at lab.  Until then I use credit card to rent apartment."  He stood up and offered his hand to Brainstorm.  "Thank you."

Damien took the man's hand, his grip firm. "You're welcome. Just don't make me regret this."

Mykola just laughed.