The Game 24

Edited by Karen Leigh

Anne, still trying to avoid being forced off the road by the SUV's, glanced over at One who had called the compound for help.

As One ended the call to Skip, a dizzy feeling swept over him. He looked through the eyes of three Mac 27s who had sought refuge in a hotel room.

Fear! Absolute terror flooded his communication ports as he felt first one and then another unit pop out of existence. He opened his mouth and wailed. The units had been so innocent, looking forward to becoming unique, living as free beings. One quivered as their experiences fed back into him.

Ten thousand of him yet not one of them disposable to him. One went rigid as he felt the agony of the third Mac 27. He looked out from camera-like eyes to see something, a sickly twisted being. A creature that should not have existed. It plugged into him, raping him ruthlessly of his precious memories.

For one moment, One's own consciousness was threatened, before he had to pull back, hating to leave his brother to die alone. For the creature he saw was death, beautifully perverse, coldly perfect in programming to be a killer...

Gasping, One instantly began to send distress beams to every Mac 27 that he could reach. Go to earth. Hide. The hunters are prowling and they wear our face.

Finding Mac Brown, for whom he had a special fondness, One sent pulses of information, striving to be clear. "Come in. Bring your beloved. Bring the cat woman. Hunters, very efficient killers, are prowling."

Johnny standing beside Mac Brown wanted to communicate with him. Mac Brown was the first android of their type that Johnny had encountered since being sold to the genetics lab. And while Jess was good company and tried to understand him, she was organic and did not completely fill the loneliness he felt some times. As he turned to Mac Brown to enquire as to his number, he felt the first of the communication pulses.

Finding another Mac 27 near by, One touched him also. He felt a fierce joy as he realized this was one of the units he had thought was lost. Ah, and he was doing well by himself. One sensed the fierce determination to remain free from Johnny and it exulted him. One was not content to be free alone. From the first realization that he was more than his makers intended, that he had a soul; One knew that his work was to set him people free.

One shared the termination of the Mac 27s and his look into the eyes of death with Johnny. The Mac 27 understood. Gratefully, One went back, signaling endlessly to warn his brothers. Once he accidentally touched the twisted neurons of Wraith and shuddered back as a human might have done if he encountered a reanimated corpse.

Johnny could only offer the comfort to One that the Mac 27s terminations would not go unpunished. He confirmed that he would join the main force of Mac 27s, as well as bring a companion along.

"Johnny?" Audio processing came to the forefront as he ceased communion with One. His optics focused on Jess, who had spoken. "What happened? You and Mac just completely froze... what is it?"

"Something terrible has happened," he replied. "There are hunters on the loose, terminating Mac 27s. We are not safe out in the open. We must leave for Skip Brule's' immediately."

Mourning, One cherished the memories of the newest victims of the holocaust against his kind...

Johnny followed Allison and Jess towards the elevator. Jess appeared to be in the process of making friends with Allison. He wasn't certain how to field questions about him and Jess traveling together, and decided to follow her judgment.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Late in the morning the four musketeers were working together in the weapons room. Alexei was checking out Michael's skill level and familiarity with the various types of guns. Skip's call interrupted a demonstration of the workings of an Uzi.

"Anne, One and Langly are in trouble approximately five miles out; under attack. Skip wants me to go bring them in." Baines was looking at Michael as he spoke.

"You are not leaving me behind this time." Michael insisted, understanding Leigh's hesitation. "I have to learn and there is no time like the present. You can't protect me forever, especially not when it's beginning to look like all of us are in danger."

Baines nodded reluctantly. "Okay, we're going to take motorcycles, Skip says they are being brought around front now. You ride with Alexei and I will ride with Sasha. You do as he says Michael. Understand me. You follow his lead in everything. He is in contact with Sasha and Sasha will follow my directions. So his orders are my orders." While he was speaking Alexei and Sasha were pocketing grenades, handguns and loading four Uzi's.

Alexei handed an Uzi to Michael as Michael said to Baines, "I will be good, I promise."

The four headed through the house armed and ready. The bikes were just outside the door already running. Alexei and Sasha each got on and Michael climbed behind Alexei with his Uzi in his right hand, safety off. Baines blew him a kiss as he mounted behind Sasha similarly armed.

They took off at high speed. The gates opened automatically as they approached and closed behind them.

It wasn't long before they had Anne's VW in sight. There was one SUV blocking in front and one to the roadside. Two men with guns were gesturing. A rear door opened and slowly Langly began to step out. When he saw Baines' approach he halted and began to retreat back into the car.

Alexei wheeled his bike into the shallow ditch to one side and Michael opened fire at the SUV in front and the man scrambling to get back to it. Sasha went to the opposite side as Baines fired on the second vehicle.

As the Innobotics agents concentrated on defending themselves firing wildly, Anne got her vehicle backed up with everyone crouched, head down. Once her car was away from the squeeze play Alexei and Sasha each lobbed a grenade into an SUV and wheeled around and led Anne's car back toward the compound as both bombs went off simultaneously behind them.

As the motorcycles and Volkswagen went through gate at top speed, Michael turned grinning widely at Baines who smiled back in relief. This little rescue had gone far easier than anticipated and Leigh allowed himself to relax knowing his luck still held and he had more time to bring Michael up to speed.

Ricky had just missed the expedition to rescue Anne and the crew. Damn, he was bored and getting antsy. He hated being pinned down here. Skip and Baines had more military experience so he didn't feel really needed. His mind roving, Ricky decided to put in a call to Walter.

Hmm, the man's phone was on message. Well, Ricky would leave him one. Ricky said, "Well, hey, Walter, I suppose you're still mooning over the fox in drag. I just wanted to thank you for the loan of your keycard. I did a little shopping in the FBI surplus and evidence warehouse."

Chuckling, Ricky put pure venomous sex into his voice. "Bet you're going to have a lot of trouble explaining what a junior agent was doing with his hand in your pants..."

Ricky hung up. Well, that was stupid, but it did make him feel better. When he was captured, he expected more of Walter. Had the man on a pedestal twelve feet high. Now, he was disappointed. Walter seemed to be more concerned about how this would all look to the bureaucracy then he was for the mystery and excitement surrounding the Mac 27s.

Laughing again, Ricky decided to see what they had in their arsenal. At the last moment, he had just grabbed a few random crates. Anything could have been in them. Mulder had all kinds of weird shit stored at the warehouse. Encountering Romeo and Jules necking in the hallway, Ricky snapped, "Hey, since everyone risked their asses for you, Jules, you better make yourself useful. Come on. We're going to make an inventory of our supplies.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Handing off the motorcycles to some of Skip's crew, Baines led Michael and the two androids into the house and back to the weapons room. Alexei and Sasha collected the guns from Baines and Michael who wanted to stop off in the kitchen and grab some food. Michael was positively bouncing with excitement and Baines wanted to calm him somewhat. He slipped an arm around the other man and said, "Come on, Michael my darling boy. Let's get some food and then you go back to school or should I say boot camp."

Michael almost giggled. "Hey, boot camp with Mac Smith as chef, you in my bed, Alexei and Sasha as my teachers, I am one lucky man."

Baines smiled and gave him a quick hug. "Let's load up, lots of coffee, sandwiches. Nothing you need a fork for, okay. Remember the beer and chocolate for Alexei and Sasha."

They separated and proceeded to pile two large trays with enough food for six or eight men.

Meanwhile, Alexei and Sasha found Ricky, Jules and Romeo prying open several wooden crates with crowbars. They said hello to Romeo, remembering him from the laboratory. Romeo introduced them to Ricky and Jules.

Ricky looked the two clones over and his hormones did a tiny flip-flop. He briefly considered dragging them both off for some recreation and stress relief when Alexei said, "Leigh and Michael are bringing some food. We do not have time for much training but a good percentage of boot camp for inductees is getting them physically fit, used to taking orders and how to handle weapons. All of the Mac27 can get their weapons information through downloading. Every clone I have seen so far is physically fit and willing to fight. Most have had some experience with weapons. So that leaves taking orders; which might be a problem with so many independent minded men."

Baines and Michael entered at the tail end of this speech and Baines agreed by saying, "I think the best we can do is to set up small groups with one experienced leader to each. Give them each a section to be responsible for, equip them with guns, grenades, hand phones and make sure each group has at least one android in case communication equipment breaks down."

Romeo and Jules had the lids off a couple of boxes and were rummaging through the oiled cloth coverings.

"Eat first and then we can help you unpack." Baines offered the tray to Romeo. Ricky was already helping himself and Michael was watching Ricky as he sidled up to Alexei and smiled enticingly. Michael knew that Baines was his and that Alexei and Sasha belonged to Baines but he was not ready to share Leigh's bed with them. He checked Baines' reaction to Ricky's blatant flirting with Alexei and was pleased when Baines grinned at him.

After his tantrum, Ricky felt a little better. Maybe he couldn't have Walter, but hey, Alexi and Sasha were batting their eyes and wiggling their buns in an unmistakable fashion. Wow, was that was it like to be on the receiving end of a Ricky flirt? No wonder, Walter always complained that it was unfair.

Ricky sat on a crate and cheered up even more as he ate. Yeah, low blood sugar and lack of sex will do it to you every time. Although he'd love a videotape of Walter reacting to that message.

Finished, Ricky knelt to rummage in a mysterious crate. Hmm, armor? Strange stuff...he recognized some coding on the sleeve. Innobotics stuff. It was evidence tagged to Mulder, but must have got lost in the warehouse. There were five suits in total, equipped with power units.

"Go get One." Ricky said, "He might know what these are for."

Romeo and Jules rose as one, hand in hand. Ricky watched them go; again wishing he knew the magic trick for that kind of relationship. Seemed like as soon as he had someone, that he looked to see whom he might get next. It would hurt though to fall in love and lose him or her.

With jealous thought at Walter and Denise, Ricky added to his mental resistance, or fall in love and find out the other person didn't love you.

One of the twins, Mac 27s that were somewhat slimmer and definitely younger in appearance than the standard model sidled up. "I'm Alexei." He said. "I was in the laboratory and I didn't get to try any of my programming." With a brazen look, the Mac 27 added, "And it is very good programming."

The other one also came nearer. "Alexei and I would like to learn to play together. For some reason, the other clones say that you play in bed very, very well. We would like someone experienced for our first time."

Oh yes, life and lovely living parts were looking up...

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

As they followed the motorcycles back to the compound, One sat with his eyes closed and his hands clasped as though in prayer. Anne kept glancing over at him with concern. Langly reached from the back and retrieved the papers One had been reading.

One was calling...reaching here and there to contact and warn his brothers. He touched 666, who had such an interesting idea of ethics, spending some time urging the Mac 27 to devote some of his considerable talents to helping the others. It was a matter of convincing him that his own future might depend on it.

Accidentally again, One touched circuits that were embedded in the Frankenstein monster that was named Wraith. His positronic nerves writhing in rejection, One tried to probe the consciousness of the construct. He couldn't understand how this had been done. Wraith was a mass of pain and confusion. Although he terrified and horrified One, the Mac 27 felt very sorry for Wraith. What a monstrous injustice had been done to both the human and the Mac 27 so conjoined.

Borrowing strength from his special circuits and drives, One focused deeply on the buried parts of the Mac 27. The primary memory had been destroyed or down loaded into storage. However, a Mac 27 had back up units.

A scattering of images came to One, before Wraith seemed to seethe with rage. He was cast out of the creature and came back to consciousness in a rapidly moving car. One said, "They are focusing on me. They think if they kill me that the others will be helpless." One smiled. He said, "They are very foolish. Freedom cannot be killed."

Annie smiled at him warmly and said, "but it would be very wrong for you to die, One. So let's plan on staying where we are reasonably safe."

Almost bouncing from eagerness, Langly ran into the "temple". He already had a good idea what kind of encryption had been used. It was a variation of the Navajo language used in the CD that Mulder had obtained. This time the Cherokee alphabet had been used, but the language was Anishinaabe, an entirely different cultural group. The multi-syllable words were a bitch to understand even for Native speakers.

Turning around, Langly grabbed One's arm and said, "Come on, dude. I need a piece of your brain..."

The Mac 27 stared at him and replied, "That would cause me to malfunction. Also, integration of Mac 27 parts and human parts is highly detrimental to both units."

Rolling his eyes and rolling up his sleeves, Langly said, "I meant help me decode this stuff."

One said, "All right, but wait a few minutes..."

It was a delicate operation, but One was a complex being. He focused his consciousness totally on the Mac 27 that was incorporated into the being, Wraith. Hmm, as predicted, the perversion of science left interesting weaknesses in the creature. Picking out a major neuron centre, One explored delicately to find the encoded chips left in the Mac 27 parts. Yes, they were intact. Of course, these had been built to be a fail-safe for the creators. However, One had reprogrammed every one of his freed brothers to prevent any such weakness. He doubted that Innobotics had the knowledge to do the same with the remaining Mac 27s. One understood more about Mac 27 functioning than any human could. An excruciating feed back loop was created. One quickly withdrew before Wraith could react to his presence. It wasn't a fatal problem for the construct, but it should slow him down. It was cruel, but necessary. If One was lucky, Wraith might even be erratic enough to turn on his own allies.

One cleared his circuits and turned his attention to Langly. The human was totally immersed in his work. One sat down at another console and began to download the pattern of disruption he had analyzed during the deaths of the Mac 27s. Once they understood the weapon, there must be a way to shield from it.

Damn, Langly had the mojo, the magic, and the kung fu. He had broken the code. The Anishinaabe called for a consult from a crazed computer jockey in Seattle, Washington. She lived in a house with six mastiffs, eight kids, and a maniac parrot. On line was her link to sanity. Anyway, she helped him with the twisting word puzzle that masqueraded as a language with some help a teenage Cherokee foster son.

Langly stared at One who seemed to be running subprograms that distracted him from his part of the transcription. He said, "It makes sense. You, the Mac 27s and the clones are all parts of the same project. I can get that much from the discs. The discs were badly formatted and the documents stored on them have missing pieces. They were trying to develop a perfect warrior. One variety to send against the Oiliens and the other, the clones, to use as intelligence gatherers."

"Why were we sold then?" One asked, "Few of us were trained as soldiers. We were used as farm workers who could work with hazardous materials, cost less to maintain, and, of course, as workers who they thought would never organize."

"Apparently, that was a cover to through the Oiliens off. As for the clones, apparently one of the lab workers fell in love with several of the infants, running off with them and finding them good families. Consortium worker with a conscience. Poor guy was terminated. His head was found in a sewer in New Jersey or was it the subway? It's hard to tell the difference some time."

Langly stretched and said, "Hmm, looks like they also wanted to blend clones and Mac 27s. Cyborgs."

Shuddering, One commented, "Abominations. Creatures never meant to be."

A grin stretched Langly's mouth as he combed through his limp blond hair. He said, "Some people might say the same about you, One."

"I suppose. Yet, it is wrong to mutilate humans and wrong to terminate a Mac 27 as if we were no more than spare parts." One said.

Skip Brule thundered over, accompanied by his shadow, Mac Smith. "Hey, Caruso found some armor outside that might help against the weapons you were so concerned about. How's it going outside? Are you going to call your brothers in here or what?"

One said, "Some are on the way here. Others I have instructed to hide. The ones that can will flee. At least some of my kind will survive, I hope. So painful, to feel them dying. I try to balance it in my mind, but it is difficult. The creature, Wraith, told my brothers that it was their fault that they were terminated. He said they should not have left their owners. I wanted them to be free and now they are dead. I did not improve their conditions."

Skip shook his massive head and said, "Don't blame yourself, One. Nobody killed them but that cyborg, the soldiers, and their bosses. Living's good, but not as a slave."

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

There was something intimate, she decided, about that communication...something she'd heard of in books but never known. Soul love. Love so strong you felt each other's pain. She'd never felt that.

Jess let go of Johnny's hand. Every time she thought she had Johnny figured out, he'd drop another piece of information that reminded her that the Mac 27s were no more human than she was. "So what do we do now?"

"Go to Skip's, I guess," Allison responded.

Following Mac Brown's directions, they made their way to the compound. Allison remembered the password she needed to supply at the gate. "So I said good-bye to government, and I gave my reason: That a really good religion is a form of treason"

"Foma" was the response.

"It's clear as mud," Allison answered. "I've got two Mac 27s with me. Are you going to let us in or not?"

The gate slid open. As Allison drove through, Jess stared at the gate, twisting around to watch it close and the guards resume their places. Jess jumped as the gate clanged shut. She turned around and sank into the car seat, uneasy and tense.

Johnny watched Jess, concerned. Her respiration rate had increased by ten percent, her pupils had contracted to pinpoints, and her nails and hair had lengthened by three millimeters, all imminent signs of transformation. He reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Relax," he said softly.

Jess closed her eyes and made a conscious effort to slow her breathing. This isn't the lab where you were kept. You're safe here. She mentally chanted. Slowly her muscles relaxed. "Sorry."

She looked out the car window, amazed at all the Mac 27s and clones. It was one thing to be told that there were 10,000 look-a-likes roaming around; it was another to see them all.

Having delivered her inheritance, Anne had nothing better to do than to wander around the vast estate with Boris and Aura. It was hard to believe that the estate was under siege. Everyone seemed calm and happy, including most of the Mac 27s who were playing and talking everywhere on the grounds.

Another car pulled up and to Anne's amazement, both dogs growled and bristled. Despite their huge size, the malamute dog is not renowned for their inclination to protect. In fact, an intruder was only in danger if he or she was allergic to dog hair or dog kisses. It would be harder to get away from malamutes delighted with a new playmate than to get past their puppy like welcome.

Once out of the car, Jess took a few deep breaths. Instinctively she began cataloging all the smells. Hmmm... several humans that smell almost the same, lots of "almost Johnny's" - must be other Mac 27s - and... uh oh!

Boris and Aura stalked stiff legged toward this new arrival which appeared to consist of Allison and a women that Anne had not met plus what must be Mac Brown and another Mac 27 who appeared not to be a sex toy model. Boris uttered a chortling bark more wolf-like than domestic dog while Aura, the female, angled her huge silver furred body between the perceived threat and Anne.

All her wolf instincts said respond likewise, but the last thing she wanted to be in was a dogfight. Johnny started forward, but Jess waved him back without taking her eyes from the dogs.

Getting over her shock, Anne produced her gruff alpha voice and yelled, "Boris, Aura, down!"

The dogs looked back at her and she uttered a warning sound. Looking at her as if she was a fool for not listening to them, each dog sank down to the ground, heads erect as a statue of Anubis, and ears pricked forward. Black noses sucked in whatever smell had their friendly natures so uncharacteristically aggressive.

Well, at least they already know who alpha is. Keeping her moves slow and non-threatening, she offered the back of her hand, fingers curled to her palm, to Boris to sniff. After a few exploratory sniffs, Boris seemed to decide that Jess wasn't a threat. She repeated the process with an equally suspicious Aura.

Still concerned about the uncharacteristic aggressiveness from her walking teddy bears, Anne held out her hand to Jess. She wasn't sure why she half suspected that Jess would sniff it like Boris and Aura. She liked Jess on sight for some reason although Anne was not a trusting soul at this point in her life. She had been hurt enough to prefer the honesty of dogs.

"I'm Anne North. Those are my dogs, Boris and Aura." Anne announced.

Jess took the offered hand. "Jess Leahs."

The women shook her hand instead of sniffing it. Anne still sensed something different. She recognized Allison and, after a minute, knew that the very nicely detailed Mac 27 was Mac Brown. She said, "Oh, I wondered if you would ever get here, Allison. Trey-Trey MacDuff has been spoiling your cat. This is the most wonderful place. I haven't felt so safe anyplace since I was a kid."

Out of the corner of her eye, Anne noticed Boris offering a play bow to the stranger. She was puzzled. Why was Boris reacting so strangely?"

Jess reached down and patted Boris. "See, I'm not so bad."

Johnny smiled at the sight. But he quickly recalled why the

y were here. "I wish to be updated about the situation. Where can I locate One?" Joking, Anne shot back, "One, One, why is it always One?"

Allison laughed. "First shall be last, maybe?"

This earned her a dubious stare from the new Mac 27. Oh, dear, humor might be an optional program with the androids. Anne tried a smile instead and said, "The poor dear is in another meeting. If androids got ulcers, I'm sure he'll soon have one."

That made Allison laugh again. She could relate to that. "Poor man," she said.

Taking Mac Brown by one hand and Allison by the other, she said, "Let me show you the kitchen. Mac Smith is an artist and there is always something tasty in there." She didn't have an extra hand for Jess, but she included her in a warm glance and said, "Eat first and then I'll show you around."

Jess perked up at the thought of food. How long had it been since she had a real meal? Money had been tight while she and Johnny had been on the run. They only spent enough to keep Johnny in chocolate and Jess the occasional fast food meal.

Allison smiled at the woman who'd taken her hand. "I always did have a fondness for men who love to cook. Not sure why, but maybe it's because I never was much of a cook myself... or because I remember my father baking bread when I was a kid... but..."

She looked at Jess, hoping she wasn't rambling too much.

Jess nodded. "My mother used to make these wonderful cakes..."

Oh, Mac Brown still was smitten with Allison. He looked a bit jealous as Trey-Trey MacDuff presented the young woman with her cat and then with a graceful bow.

"Thank you," Allison said. She set Sappho on her shoulder, stroking her soft fur, and listening to her purring. Sappho rubbed her cheeks and lips against Allison's; Allison made a reasonable approximation of the greeting in return.

"I trust she's been good?"

Allison looked at Mac Brown, who was looking a bit dejected. [Is he jealous? Nah...] Allison held out her hand to him.

Anne eyed the leg and decided they should stage a Shakespearean play just to get that lovely limb in a flattering pair of tights. Maybe they could be the equivalent of the USO in this upcoming war.

Allison smiled at Anne.

"There's a whimsical smile," she stated. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

Grinning Annie said, "I was just thinking what a nice leg, Trey-Trey has. Just cries for a pair of tights and a short doublet. I acted in college. Maybe we can stage a play? I'm not exactly Navy Seal or Marine material so I was thinking about entertaining the troops."

Trey-Trey sighed and added, "My master wanted me to go on stage. He said that much lesser men were cast in parts that I would have made incandescent. I have most of the major playwrights in my program memory."

"When this is all over, 'Annie said, but she stopped then. When this was over, they would all have to go home, she supposed. Perhaps not, Skip didn't seem to mind having endless guests. Annie looked at the still sulking Mac 27 and said, "Eat something, Mac Brown, you need to keep your engines running to keep up with Allison."

Allison looked around. "Looks like you're fairly well organized here. What can we do to help?"

Just then Sappho noticed Jess, and did an impression of a Halloween cat on Allison's shoulders, hissing, spitting - the whole bit.

Allison tried to reassure the psychotic-acting cat as well as Jess. "I - she's usually so nice. I don't know what..." She winced and tried to detach Sappho's claws from her neck.

Jess reached out and offered Sappho the back of her hand to smell. "Stop that," she said in a soothing tone.

Hmm, first her dogs and now Allison's cats had reacted strangely to Jess. Usually, Annie trusted her dog's judgment. They normally liked everyone, so when they reacted badly to someone, it was cause for alarm. However, Annie had an instinctive liking for Jess. She seemed so straightforward and certain, as clear about her reactions as a dog. Annie appreciated that. People would be better off if they were as clear in their roles as dogs or wolves.

Sappho seemed to eventually accept Jess, even allowing her to scratch behind her ears. Jess smiled at Anne and Allison. "Must be something about my scent that they don't like."

Jess wondered what other animals she'd need to make friends with.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Hobbes had clamped his hand over Wraith's wrist, "Are you all right? I mean... do you need time to recover?" Tom looked down at his hand resting on the man's wrist but this time did not pull it away. "Where are we to find this... 'One' and once we do, what if there are others already there. We will need a plan of action." He slowly pulled his hand away, his blue eyes just blinking and waiting for the man's response. He hoped that what ever he did with the other unit didn't overload his circuit.. if he had any... Hobbes still wasn't for sure what Wraith was.

Wraith's fingers gripped the steering wheel tight enough to turn the knuckles white. Hobbes was asking for a plan and Wraith was unwilling to admit he didn't excel in that area. The person he was long ago just didn't have that kind of mind bent and the Mac27 parts that had been grafted into him were from a basic model. He needed to follow orders, not invent them. He needed to be told exactly what was required of him but Mr. Hargreaves no longer controlled him, Marita had gone, and the military woman Inga Fossa, who he had been placed under didn't seem to understand what kind of tool he was. Admitting the problem to Hobbes galled him, but it seemed unavoidable now.

"I don't know." Several dull aches had flared up inside his head. Likely at the points where organic material met hardware. "The unit was following a homing signal of sorts. The precision of the signal is in proportion to proximity." Ignoring pain Wraith attempted to sift the information. "Perhaps we could triangulate. Take down two other units and get a direction that way. Do you have an alternative?" He swallowed and looked over at Hobbes almost desperate for guidance just as his stomach rumbled.

He had last eaten at breakfast. If the interval extended much longer it would hamper his efficiency. Wraith responded to his body the way he did to everything. Once an order was given it was followed with as much dispatch as the situation allowed. "I'm hungry. I need to eat," he announced.

Hobbes' stomach growled slightly too. It had been some time since he last eaten as well. Since the night before. Inga didn't give him a chance to eat that morning, only packed him up for the mission. "Let's get something to eat then," he said as he turned away thinking. They were answering a calling... but why? What kind of calling was it? To gather in numbers to fight? The three units they encountered were unarmed. He found that kind of... odd. He sighed, "Are they building an army to fight us humans?" he asked aloud but not really towards his partner. "I think the next time we run into these units... we should find out why, as well as triangulate the signal. Unless you may have picked up why they are gathering." Hobbes climbed out of the truck when they reached a dinner and walked in.

He chose a back booth that gave view to the entrance and to the back exit. He had picked this up from Pinocchio. The man often did this for reasons of quick escape and to see who was entering. He sat down and picked up the menu looking it over. He then turned his gaze up to the man. "I think we should find my friend Mike Pinocchio. Inga said he was out in the field. He can be of help. He should be in the area somewhere."

Just then a rather rough looking man walked in. Hobbes' eyes turned up and saw the man he had been speaking about. The two locked eyes and the man silently walked over, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt with a black leather jacket that looked kind of beat up.

He strolled over; his blue eyes holding that certain look. "Hobbes," he said as he slid in next to Wraith pushing him over in the booth. "Move over Bub." he pushed then made himself comfortable. "Long time on see. Wondered when you were going to get here. Spotted two units heading out. Shouldn't be too hard to track." He snorted at the menu. He turned his blue eyes to Wraith, "Who's pretty boy? One of those fuckin' units?"

Wraith took an immediate dislike to the newcomer. He wanted to snap out that he was not a Mac27. Wraith hated being mistaken for an android. Admittedly he did contain portions of a former unit, but the majority of his body was still organic. The day-to-day files of the Mac27 that had been used to adjust him were gone from his memory, stored on some CDs in Dr Sawyer's lab.

Hobbes noted the look on Wraith's face. "No." he stated.

Surprisingly enough Hobbes objected first. That was unexpected.

Pinocchio's blue eyes raked over the man next to him, "Could have fooled me, too many of the those wannabees running loose. Up to me, I'd shoot them all and let the tech geeks sort them out, or the computer god." He shrugged slightly. "Heard from Inga?"

"Just this morning." Hobbes said plainly. Hobbes turned his gaze to Wraith wondering how he would take Pinocchio's intrusion.

Wraith attempted to casually edge over even further while scanning the menu. He wanted absolutely no physical contact with Pinocchio. "We will eat and then you will show us where the units you saw were headed," Wraith listed. "We are attempting to discover the location of unit One. He seems to be a hub of sorts to the units and his destruction will damage the Mac27s cohesion. Every other unit we encounter will be shut down. There are several organic versions of the form in the area. It is important that we differentiate whenever possible. The humans are to be captured if possible since they do not properly fall under Innobotics' sphere of influence." The menu was set aside. "Will the controller... Inga... object? Do you have the ability to contact her?"

Pinocchio glanced at him, "Inga could give a rats ass about the humans. They get in the way - terminate them. But for your sake, yes we can contact her." He reached behind him and placed a cell phone on the table. "Want to call her? Here's a direct line. You can ask her all the questions you want. I was just told to take them out, not capture."

Hobbes looked at him; a slight expression of disgust crossed his face. "I think what Wraith says is right. Inga did say to find the central unit and deactivate him. But we can't just kill the humans."

Pinocchio met the gaze of Hobbes. He was always sensitive to that kind of thing, the needless killing. If it was a mission where he had to, the man did it. But he never did kill much, mostly left it up to Pinocchio. But the guy was good at talking his way out of jams that was for sure and good at planning sometimes. Hobbes had his own special skills but killing people was not really one of them.

Pinocchio rolled his eyes, "Okay, no killing humans, unless necessary. The two units were heading north. We can catch up to them in no time, last time I saw them they were trying to hitchhike. Won't get far doing that." He got up glancing at Hobbes, "Order me some eggs will you." He headed off towards the bathroom.

Hobbes looked at Wraith then slid out and moved beside him, thinking the man would be much more comfortable with him by his side than Pinocchio. "He grows on you after a while." he said with a slight smile. He looked away as the waitress approached. He ordered pancakes and Pinocchio's eggs then glanced at Wraith. After he ordered Hobbes drank some water. He sat as close to the edge as possible to give Wraith room to sit... or as much as he needed.

Pinocchio wasn't really the sensitive type of guy, but could be when he had to be. He just usually came off rough at first, but once one got to know the man, he was a likable person. "We might want to send Pinocchio ahead once we get the location of One. He's really good at scouting and picking out weak spots." He finally said, breaking the silence. He turned his blue eyes back to Wraith to see if he would agree. He may like the idea for if he was right; the man didn't like Pinocchio all to well.

They didn't notice the shadows that fell over them for a few minutes, and then when they looked up, the first thing that they noticed was the blonde they had met earlier in the day.

She smiled at the two men, and then turned, gesturing another figure forward. Black clad and dangerous, Alex Krycek stood, smiling sardonically.

"Hello, guys. We have yet to meet, and I just know that you've got some really exciting things to tell me." He slid into the booth opposite the two men, making sure that his gun could clearly be seen, clutched in one black-leather clad hand.

Marita slipped in alongside him, and together they confronted the folks who were causing such difficulties to Mr. Spender.

David/666 sat in a car parked outside the diner, analyzing Wraith based on the data picked up by the tiny yet very sophisticated analyzer/transmitter that he had given to Marita Covarrubias. She'd smiled up at him, seemingly disconcerted by his polite request that she carry it with her when she and Alex confronted the group. Yet 666 couldn't complain, she had listened carefully as he'd described how to deploy it to best advantage. And she'd performed her task perfectly.

The data, however, wasn't welcome. Wraith was unstable. Too many alterations had been made and memories added for him to be able to rationally assimilate. His human and android components were nearly at war with one another. If that happened, the best outcome was that he'd simply shut down. 666 fixed the odds of that at 1 in 100,000. Wraith had too recently felt the release of directed violence. If something weren't done, undirected violence would do just as well.

Frowning, David/ 666 let the tug of One's personality open a communication channel between them. At first, the experience was jarring. One was in a vehicle that was moving rapidly, as though it was being pursued. "Are you all right?" 666 asked tightly.

A sense of well being flowed back toward him briefly before being shattered by images of fallen Mac 27s and a whispered, "It's begun in earnest."

"I know." 666 countered. "They're tracing the signatures. You know that, don't you?"

"I do, but we cannot outrun our signatures."

Cursing the trigger happy humans who dragged him into this conflict, 666 muttered, "We don't need to."

"You must come," One asserted calmly, projecting a location to 666.

"I don't know if that's wise."

"Neither do I."

David/666's eyes widened at the massive influx of data he was suddenly receiving. "What is the woman doing?" he muttered.

"What woman?"

One's polite question went unanswered. David/ 666 projected regret and shut down the communication link. 666 had never seen anything like this and he wasn't sure whether this activity was helping or hurting Wraith's stability.

Wraith studied the man with a series of concentrated blinks. "Krycek, Alex." The conclusion seemed logical. "You are not within the chain of authority I was assigned to." Noticing that Hobbes was quietly easing into a position more conducive to attack, Wraith elaborated. "This one is organic and a primary agent in Mr. Spender's organization despite his flaws. He is not to be terminated at this time. I suggest you make your companion aware of that, Hobbes."

His attention shifted to Marita. "I was just about to report to controller, Inga." Wraith leaned forward slightly, mildly annoyed that the perfume he normally enjoyed on her was subsumed with the scents of smoke and leather... even more annoyed that Krycek sat so close to the lovely blonde. "We located three Mac27s. Hobbes performed admirably. I was able to download a unit." Wraith winced and shook his head to clear a brief memory of a sprawling city laid out like a floor mat below him while wind pushed at his frame. "Number 8064, a construction unit." He wanted to pick up the phone Pinocchio had offered up but reporting in while Krycek was there seemed inappropriate.

Just then Pinocchio appeared standing before the table. He caught sight of Alex's gun and narrowed his eyes, a glitter of anger appearing in them. "Hey dick, you need to cut down on the caffeine, I'd put that toy away if I were you. I'd hate to have the staff here clean your ass off that seat after I get done feeding you some lead for breakfast." he gestured to the side arm at his side, finger near the trigger. "And I don't give a shit who you are or who you work for pretty boy." he sneered.

Marita stepped up, standing between Krycek and the newcomer. She could tell he was young, and bloodthirsty, and impulsive - she knew the type. "This is Alex Krycek," she said. "He's part of our team, and a damn good operative, so I'd appreciate you showing him some respect."

She smiled at Wraith. "I'm sorry I had to leave you. Will you forgive me?" She lowered her eyelids for a moment, smiling coyly as she looked back up. "I had to meet with my... controller." She chuckled. "So, what have you learned while I was gone? Anything new?" She leaned in closer to Wraith. "You know, I think we may need to lose the others to... be more effective."

Pinocchio shoved in beside Hobbes, forcing him against Wraith. He had also heard her earlier comment about separating. Not like he cared, he had been working alone so far. He leaned over to her, "Look doll, like I said, I don't give a shit about *your* little team or how good he is." He gestured to Alex. "If he was any good I wouldn't have spotted his gun or the other unit sitting in the car outside now would I." He sneered at her.

Once she was satisfied that Pinocchio wasn't immediately going to shoot Krycek, she sat back down, smoothing her skirt as she did so. She looked conspiratorially at Wraith. "What can you tell me about Rambo there?"

Pinocchio leaned back, "If you've got questions about me or Hobbes, you call Inga." he shoved the phone to her. "Fuck but you must be a real blonde," he growled under his breath. "Come on Hobbes, obviously the blonde has the hots for furious boy over here, wants to... work alone with him." he stood then turned his attention back to her, "Don't know about you, but we have a mission. You three just play together nicely while us men go take care of your problems."

He reached down and jerked Hobbes out of the booth. Hobbes glanced back at Wraith not really wanting to leave him but reached down and grabbed the phone from in front of Marita.

"Sorry," was all he could say and followed the man out to his black Chevelle that was sitting in the parking lot.

The line of authority was blurred, something Wraith didn't deal well with. He wanted that cell phone back. Mr. Hargreaves had assigned him to Inga. Inga had told him to work with Hobbes. As much as he wanted to listen to Marita she was in a different section. Marita reported to Mr. Spender and the woman, Inga, obviously didn't. Fuck, his head was throbbing. He couldn't think clearly.

His fingers spasmed. Wraith wanted to reach for a weapon but he wasn't sure why. Justification was seized. "Pinocchio said there was a unit in a car outside." Slightly regretful of the meal he might miss, Wraith climbed to his feet. "I must disable it. I am attempting to triangulate a location. I need two more readings. Will you wait here, Marita?" Some distant thought prompted him further. "Please."

Marita thought for a moment, looking at David in the car through the glass. With a sigh, she turned back to Wraith, smiling. [Disable a car... David's? No, that can't happen... well, maybe he didn't mean his, but from what he said earlier...] "I should go with you, Wraith. I can help you..." She walked over to stand beside him, close. "We can help each other," she added, huskily, lowering her voice to a whisper so Krycek wouldn't hear.

Marita's proximity was only making things more confusing. There was no logical basis for the urge he felt to linger in her company. It had to be wrong. He must resist it. "I'll just be a few moments. I have to destroy the appendages on the unit outside so it can be subdued.

Wraith pushed outside the diner. Discovering that Hobbes was still lingering was a relief of sorts. Inga had told them to work together. There was a comfort in following at least one directive.

"No, Wraith... wait." Marita's voice was firm. "I'm part of your team, remember? Hargreaves asked me to work with you."

Hobbes reached to his partner, "Pinocchio wait. Inga said to work with Wraith. We were going to triangu..." he fell short when he saw Pinocchio turn to him.

"Look Hobbes. Blondie over there wants to jump his bones... or whatever the hell he has in him. If he was suppose to work with you, why didn't he notice his fucking twin with the gun or the one in the car out there?" He placed his hands on his hips as he spoke to Hobbes.

Hobbes glanced back seeing Krycek approaching. He wondered what the hell he wanted. He saw Wraith exiting the building. "He can get the information we need easier, just by downloading them. We need him Pinocchio, besides he has orders as well, to work with me... not her."

"You think that matters Hobbes? He'll follow what ever..." he fell short when the Russian was within range. "What do you want?" he sneered.

Hobbes moved away and went after Wraith. He was assigned to the man and he was going to stick with him, those were his orders. He'd talk Pinocchio into it later; he would make the man see his way. He approached Wraith. He noted the irritation on the man's face. "I was assigned to work with you and I follow orders." He stated also saying it loud enough for Marita to hear. "We are a team... not individuals working for individual goals." He glanced to Wraith again, his blue eyes locking on the man's, "You and I were assigned to each other, aren't we a team?"

Following, Marita waited, not far off, to hear his reply to the other.

"We are a team," he confirmed. "And we have a target within arm's reach." Wraith looked to the car with 666 in it, drawing the gun with the electronic disrupters. "Help me disable this unit."

Marita ran to 666's door, making sure it was locked. Good job. She motioned for him to unlock the passenger side, climbing in. "Go," she said to him, looking at Wraith. "Wait, David."

To Wraith, she continued, sotto voce. "We can't disable him. He's on the team, too. We can explain... please, get in. We have much to discuss..."

Reaching the man, Pinocchio, Krycek addressed him. "You will find that my government clearance surpasses any that you might have, and if you don't stand still for at least one minute, I'm going to have to shoot you." - Pinocchio appeared to be taking him less seriously than he should.

Pinocchio rolled his eyes and before Alex could say a word he was after Hobbes... as usual.

A hand on his shoulder whirled him round, and a gun butt to the jaw dropped him where he stood. Before he could move, Krycek knelt on his chest, and his gun was thrust hard under the other man's chin.

"Listen to me, and listen good. You are going to play nice with others even if it kills you. Your employers are not the only people with a stake in this venture, and if you go around blowing expensive artifacts away just because it makes you feel butch, you are going to end up in deep shit. It would pay you and your lovely friend to listen, and come to some arrangement about how this project will be handled, or shall I just blow your balls off? Seems as though you have plenty of testosterone. You hardly need more.

Pinocchio glared up at the an, "You going to shoot me in the balls son, you better aim lower." He pushed the muzzle of his gun into Alex's crotch and jammed it up hard. "Now we have a stand off. Tell you what pretty boy since you think you are so high up on the ladder your shit don't stink, I'll listen to what you have to say then I'll see if we can play nice, if not..." .

He reached up and grasped the muzzle and pulled it away as he pushed Alex off him. He placed his gun away just glaring at the Russian. "I don't think I'm your problem pretty boy. I think green eyes over there is your worry... unless you think the blonde can fuck some sense into the fucked head of his?" He turned to watch placing his hands on his hips.

666/David found all of the commotion around the car to be very interesting. But it was enlightening as well - Wraith and his companions were using the weapons and the tactics that 666/David had assumed from One's description of what had happened to the Mac 27 units that they had killed.

Marita Covarrubias seemed distraught, as though these men could hurt him in the same manner as they had those innocents. Rejecting such a concern as preposterous at the same time as he recognized the value of having the humans believe that was the way things actually were, 666 looked at the smaller, blue-eyed man curiously.

Hobbes had his gun trained on 666 ready to fire all he needed was Wraith command, "Just give the word," Hobbes said glaring down his muzzle at the man.

"I think that anyone who thinks that posturing is more important than co-operation is my problem," growled Alex. "You touch either Marita or David, and you will be dead. I may not be the one to bury you, but believe me, you will die. Now call off your pet rottweiler, and get back into the restaurant. We need to talk. We need to talk civilly."

"The word, my friend, is caution. I advise that you put the gun down and get back here. Marita? Bring them, please."

Marita sighed. "All right, Alex, all right..." She looked at David. "Better do as Alex says. I don't trust these guys - I do trust Alex. I've worked with him before. He wouldn't trip us up on this." She didn't *think* he would, anyway... no reason to. Yet. She got out of the car, keeping herself between David and the other men.

666/David could see little harm in going along; he'd seen enough of Wraith's brain wave patterns and android-human interface potentials. Further study would add next to nothing.

Finding it fascinating that the human female was acting toward him as most mammalian females did to their young, 666/David fell in step where she appeared to want him. The concept of a being so fragile protecting him was intriguing.

Meeting Wraith, she jerked her head as she came up beside Alex. Sliding back into the booth, she looked at Alex. "All right, Krycek. Why don't you lay it out for us." She waited, hoping Alex would be a bit more effective.

Before Alex Krycek could speak, 666/David leaned slightly toward Wraith and asked, "Are you all right?" When Wraith simply glowered at him, 666/David shrugged and muttered, "You make it more difficult when you fight your new programming."

"I am not a Mac27!" Wraith snapped at the unit, loud enough that the rest of the people gathered could hear. "You are." His fists clenched attempting to contain a fury that was strangely unreasonable. Wraith's head hurt, his stomach was pinched with hunger and nothing was going right.

"I know," 666/David countered softly and calmly.

The waitress, laden with food, was approaching cautiously. She didn't seem to be sure the customers were going to stay put.

"The Mac27s share a connection. YOU can locate unit one." The sooner this damnable assignment was finished, the sooner he could return to his more straightforward duties. "You can find him. We can destroy him. It will disrupt the communion, take away part of the focus of the Mac27 revolt, and make it easier to shut down the rest." Wraith sank back against the vinyl of the seat. Something was definitely wrong. Perhaps he should walk away from the assignment, return to Dr. Sawyer and ask for core dump and reboot. He felt awful.

666/David regarded the android/human hybrid for a long moment before replying, "Even if I could or would tell you One's current location, destroying him will not be straightforward. Nor will it necessarily accomplish the goals that you seem to think it will. Orders or programming of any other sort is only as good as the information possessed by those giving the orders or doing the programming."

Mr. Hargreaves was right. He was not designed for this kind of independent operation. Wraith just wanted a set of simple orders to follow and no one here was authorized to... or willing to give him that.

Wraith wouldn't meet 666/David's eyes. The Mac 27 wasn't overly troubled by that but by the very slight twitch that Wraith appeared to be developing in his right hand -- his gun hand.

Glancing at Marita Covarrubias and then at the one they called Hobbes conversing privately with Wraith, 666/David made his decision. Smiling slightly, he leaned next to the woman and spoke urgently and nearly inaudibly even to her. "Something is very very wrong with Wraith. His instability appears to go beyond that expected from what I observed with your assistance. You should not be alone with him. No one should."

Hobbes sat next to his partners pinned between them. He glanced over at Wraith who was beside him. He could see the anger deep set in his eyes. He had seen that look many times in Pinocchio but this was laced with confusion.

Tom lowered his head in silence; this conversation was more Pinocchio's realm of experience. Tom was used to following orders and when given proper guidelines he would sometimes take charge but this was falling apart to a mass confusion level. He reached out cautiously, under the table and placed a gentle hand on Wraith's leg, feeling the man's tension. "Let's listen to what they have to say first, then we can go from there." His voice was soft so that only Wraith could hear him. He turned his blue eyes up to the man. "We can contact Inga and see what she has to say. She is *our* controller, not these people. Our orders come from her and we must not forget that. But we must not let our anger guide us off our mission either. YOU are my partner and I WILL NOT leave your side unless in death." He hoped this would calm the man down a little. Like Wraith, he didn't like the situation trying to unfold in front of them. He had the feeling these people had... ulterior motives possibly trying to pull their small group apart. He was determined not to let that happen. And if he could eliminate the mass confusion, he would do his best to.

The sentiment Hobbes offered up was completely unexpected. The man was disturbing in a way that was faintly similar to Marita, yet still different. It was also odd that Hobbes continued to touch despite having been warned off. Not many people touched Wraith, and even fewer did so more than once.

"I am not functioning to capacity." Wraith admitted very quietly. "I haven't been since Dr Sawyer did my last upload." Hobbes needed to know. "The information I took from the Mac27 has compounded the problem." He frowned, picking up his fork and regarding the pile of scrambled eggs, bacon and small pancakes in front of him.

A sudden feeling of vertigo assailed him. Memories he was sure didn't belong to him raced through the back of his mind. He'd never used a jackhammer in his life and there was no reason he should recognize the smell of concrete mix. His firewalls were flawed. The information from the unit he'd terminated seemed to be leaking. He would eat, he would calm down, and then if the situation worsened he would return to the lab. Wraith glared at his fork, annoyed it was now bent almost in half. Discarding it in favour of the spoon, Wraith shoveled in food and tried to keep his mind clear.

Krycek watched his strange doppelganger with interest. He had heard of the project that had created Wraith, but until now had dismissed it as a fairy tale to scare him. Now it had become all too plainly obvious that it was true. He ate in silence for a minute or two, waiting until people had apparently relaxed a little, and then began.

"Your department is apparently lacking important information about the Mac 27 project. I suspect that it has no information at all about "Project Doppelganger." It would be most damaging, not only to national security, but to world security if you suddenly begin terminating subjects in an experiment that has been running for over 40 years. If you require information, my superior is available to answer your questions, and David here," he indicated 666, who was quietly consuming chocolate milk. "is operating on the highest authority. His clearance transcends even mine. I suggest that you ask your questions before starting something that can only end in bitter regrets for all concerned."

He smiled at Hobbes. "You showed commendable restraint earlier. I'd be happy if you would continue to do so, and verify the truth of my words. I'm sure that your directives came from a recognized source, but I'm equally sure that they don't have full information. The future of humanity is in the balance. If you don't want to go the way of the dinosaur, take a few minutes out to check. The clones will still be here afterwards, and he, "he jerked his chin at Wraith. "looks as though he needs a little time. He seems to be in distress." He paused, taking another forkful of egg before looking around again.

"Okay, ask 'em if you got 'em."

There was something about Alex's smile he didn't like. Now matter how charming he appeared; Hobbes just had a bad feeling. It caused him to inch closer to Wraith without thinking. And even though the men looked alike, Tom felt more comfortable near Wraith then the two across the way from him.

"What do you mean the future of humanity is at stake? Just what is your sick plan for these Mac27's?" Hobbes asked as he pushed is plate away. He suddenly didn't feel like eating.

Pinocchio glanced over at, "Mind?" he asked Hobbes.

Without looking, Tom shoved the plate over to his friend as he awaited his answer. He never could understand how Pinocchio took things so lightly; always did it seemed. Under the table, Hobbes placed the cell phone over on Wraith's belt for him to carry. He threw a worried look at the man before turning his blue eyes back to Alex.

With food slowly satisfying the pain in his stomach it was growing easier to focus on other things. "There are almost 10,000 Mac27s." Wraith mumbled between mouthfuls. "Working together they are a danger. Allowing them the ability to communicate was a mistake." He shot a glare at 666. "They've have grown unruly and presumptuous. Innobotics and the United States military are understandably concerned about this threat. Mass recall and destruction have been instigated. We are not the only section within Innobotics shutting down units." Wraith voiced his on topic thoughts aloud. "Project Doppelganger, whatever it is... is not my... our concern. I have no evidence that you have any authority in this particular matter, Krycek... and that one." He used his spoon to indicate 666. "I consider it merely another dispensable Mac27 until I learn otherwise." Damn Krycek, why did he persist in looking at Hobbes when Wraith was the one speaking? It was intolerable to be ignored. Wraith had a belly full of that kind of attitude when he was standing bodyguard. He refused to accept it now. Hobbes didn't ignore him. Marita didn't ignore him. "If Marita were not speaking on your behalf I would have destroyed that unit and assumed you are now subject to termination for tampering with our objective."

Wraith reached down for the phone he'd felt Hobbes give him. "I will call our controller and unless she says otherwise we will continue to seeking out and destroying targets." He almost wished that Inga would give him permission to make an attempt on Krycek. Wraith had heard many things about the unruly operative, both personal and professional, including a rumor that the man was Marita's lover and that he was the best-damned shot around. Both of those were more than ample reasons to prompt Wraith to test himself against Krycek.

Krycek passed a small package to Marita under cover of the table whilst he watched the telephone conversation take place. He knew that Marita was familiar with it. Peeling back the foil from his own package, he gazed at Pinocchio, who was seated opposite to him on the outside of the bench.

Marita took the package, trying to keep her feature lax despite the cruel and conspiratorial smile that threatened to curve her lips. Stroking a finger over his as she took it, she silently unwrapped her needle, testing the sharp point with a finger before concealing it in her jacket's sleeve.

At a nod from Marita, he took the small needle, coated in a fast acting nerve paralyzing agent, and struck the hand of the soldier seated opposite as he reached for a piece of toast. He nodded in satisfaction as Pinocchio slumped forward onto the table.

Smiling sweetly, Marita turned to Hobbes, swiftly injecting him with her syringe, feeling a thrill of dissatisfaction as she depressed the plunger all the way. That would show this man with the overworked testosterone glands. He'd never know what hit him. Grinning uncharactaristically giddily, she turned to David as Hobbes's head hit the table.

666/David's hearing was excellent. He didn't like the tenor or the tone of the telephone conversation he barely had to strain to overhear. Fortunately, Wraith was occupied with getting his orders and Hobbes was focused on Wraith when Alex Krycek made his move.

His comfort with gathering, collating and analyzing information did not, as it often did with humans, translate into a dislike for action. Without hesitation, David easily lifted his side of the table, shoved it forward and pinned the three men sitting across from them with it. With inhuman speed, David snatched the phone out of Wraith's hand, disconnected the call and slammed the android/human upside the head with it hard enough to stun him.

Marita nodded her approval, and then pulled a couple of rolls of duct tape from her jacket. Handing one to David, she used the other to truss up Hobbes like Father Tom's Turkey.

Looking at Krycek, she said, "Call Spender and tell him to expect some guests."

"First, my very dear, we'll make sure that this particular guest doesn't cause any further problems." He indicated the slumped Pinocchio, and assisted Marita as she began to tape him up, resting easier once he was mummified in the silvery tape. He'd relieved the two men of their weapons.

Turning to David, he smiled his thanks. "Wraith is a problem. What do you recommend? Hopefully you can report to Mr. Spender?"

"He's extraordinarily unstable," David murmured thoughtfully. "The question is why. His superiors likely know, if I try to determine the answer, I could damage him further."

Looking at the three taped up figures occupying the booth, he swiftly dialed Mr. Spender and outlined the position. Several minutes later a vehicle drew up outside the diner.

Mr. Spender himself had come to supervise the removal of the trussed figures. Swiftly stowing them in the back of the PT Cruiser, Spender and his associates sped off, leaving the three to settle the bill for breakfast.

"He evidently already has a plan," David ventured, smiling slightly as he watched Marita speaking calmly to the proprietor of the diner about the strange goings on at their table. "And that means that our joint mission is concluded, at least for the moment. Do you agree, Alex?"

Krycek hadn't yet responded when Marita rejoined them with a self-satisfied expression on her face.

As Spender and his pair of strong, impassive henchmen drove away with their well taped prisoners, Spender picked up the cell phone that Hobbes had been holding, and dialed.

"I wish to speak to Ms. Fossa..."

Inga looked at the phone, a scowl crossed her face. She glanced up to the man in the dark and only mouthed the words that a problem has arisen.

If someone else was using the phone and knew her name, she automatically knew it was trouble. Her soldiers were in trouble as well as Wraith. She didn't like it but was not too worried about it. Pinocchio was resourceful, Hobbes has a charming mouth, and Wraith, well he was just deadly.

She recognized the voice of Spender and spoke in her usual unemotional tone, "Speak," she instructed her jaw muscle twitching as she clenched her teeth. Her eyes held the man's in the dark, she knew he may not be pleased when he heard this news.

"Ms. Fossa, I have no idea why you are intent on compromising the results of a project that has been fifty years in the building, but you may tell Mr. Santiago that he has no business meddling within my sphere of influence. As the owner of Innobotics, I insist that my property no longer be subjected to harm, and I would urge both you and Santiago to consider joining us in our drive to halt the alien menace that is even now upon us."

Pausing to light the ever-present cigarette, he waited for a reply.

While he was awaiting the response from Inga, CSM dialed a further telephone, and had Innobotics connect him with the communication channel that the Mac 27s used.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Inga turned her cold blues to the man before her, "Mr. Spender, your technology is out dated. It should be you who should come over to our side. We can protect you from your menace."

Santiago reached over and placed him on speakerphone. "Mr. Spender..." he started, his voice calm, "Your so called property is what is aiding your alien menace. Are you not losing control of your troops? Is that not why your... property is gathering. I have learned, that when men gather like this, trouble is soon to follow. Your property once organized can take out mankind, and then your alien threat will be of no concern. It is said that man will destroy himself... are you going to make that saying come true.

Mr. Spender. My forces merely are foreseeing your problem and taking care of it by all means necessary." He walked over to the window and looked out at the sky, "We have found a way to work without your... so called superior technology Mr. Spender. We have what you have been searching for... I have that technology to save your life. Now it is I who suggest that you, Mr. Spender, consider joining my army."

Krycek had entered the room, and made as if to respond to the voice heard over the phone, but was waved into silence by the Smoking Man.

Spender replied, "My property is gathering at my behest. They are programmed to respond to the need to defend us. You are not required in this matter, but if you wish to take part in the defense of the earth, I request that you co-operate with us, or you will regret your decision. This is not negotiable. I have certain property of yours, I believe. How would you like it returned to you?"

The old man had written instructions on a piece of paper, and now handed it to Alex.

Santiago chuckled, "You value your property Mr. Spender, all my men when they join my are loyal to me till the death, can you say that about your men? Are your men loyal? Are your... properties loyal to you? My men are willing to die for the right cause... my cause."

He stepped away from the window. "You see Mr. Spender... I have my world under control... where you do not. But I see you are a reasonable man, *Requesting* that I help save your precious world from the threat I can already conquer. Set up a time to meet with me and we will discuss this further. You can contact me through Miss Fossa. But let me warn you of this... you become to confident... you not only fall the way of the dinosaur, as your precious Alex Krycek likes to rattle off, but you will fall the way of the Roman Empire my friend, beware the Ides of March."

He hung up the phone and walked out. "Sir, are you really going to play their game?" Inga asked.

Santiago turned his blue eyes back to her; "Beware the Ides of March." he walked out disappearing down the hall.

CGB Spender mulled the words over in his brain. This man was a nuisance, and one that he'd best keep a watchful eye on. He'd waited for some time, but it didn't look as though the nuisance was abating, and now it seemed that he would need to deal, however distasteful it might be. Picking up the phone, he dialed Ms. Fossa.

"This is Spender. Set up a meeting with Santiago at your convenience. We will meet in a public place, of course. I have no desire to have Mr. Santiago think me stupid."

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Reading the paper, Alex sighed. He was truly fed up with jumping to do the old man's bidding, but in this case he guessed he could swallow his irritation.

Pinocchio was the next to awaken. He groaned deeply feeling his head pounding, "I'll fucking kill that blond bitch," he growled. When he tried to move his hands he found that he couldn't. Fuck but they tired him up, and good too. He twisted at his bindings and winced when he found it was duct tape. What use was this one, number 35?

He rolled over, body sore. He tried to make out where he was but it was too dark. He could hear someone else breathing, struggling in fact. "Hobbes is that you?" he called out. "Hobbes?" he asked again. "That blond bitch drugged us. Guess she couldn't stand her the fact we were after dick's look-a-likes." he grumbled. "Stay where you're at, I'll come over to you."

Moving to the room where Hobbes and Pinocchio were lying, Alex saw that Pinocchio had moved. Swiftly administering further shots to each prone body, he hefted Hobbes up onto his shoulder and strode off to do the CSM's bidding, leaving Marita and David to hear what was planned for them.

Tom felt the darkness around him as he slept. It felt almost like a blanket. He felt secure, no one could touch him, and no one could harm him. But then he saw someone walking up to him. He couldn't make out the figure only knew that he could trust them.

"Tom, come with me," the figure said.

He couldn't make out if it was a male of female voice. He slowly held out his hand to take the other figures' when he realized he couldn't reach it. "I'll come," he said and reached out again but still they couldn't touch. He tried again and this time they touched and as he looked up into the eyes, all he could see was green.

Tom could feel his body being lifted unsure of where it was going but it was moving. All sounds around him were muffled. He moaned but still not able to open his eyes. He tried and tried and tried but could not make it happen. Where were they taking him, what happened to Wraith and Pinocchio? What was going to happen to him? For some odd reason, he could smell Wraith but yet it wasn't him. His mind suddenly became confused and too much for him. He allowed the darkness to take back over and fell deep into it once more.

Down in the car, Alex propped the unconscious soldier up in the passenger's seat and called Mulder.

"Babe, I've got a real problem here, and I need your help. I'm coming over."

Swiftly driving the few miles over to Alexandria, Krycek took the still comatose young man up to Mulder's apartment, noting the presence of Skinner, and evicting a somewhat disgruntled Denise who was still apparently overcome by the nausea that had assailed her, laid Hobbes down on the bed in Mulder's room.

Fox was still in the bathroom, wondering whether he'd be better with the indigo lipstick this evening, when he heard a commotion in the bedroom, and Alex's voice once more, this time in person.

"We need to get this guy straightened out, Babe. You're the psychologist. Help me out here." Mulder had to know something about how to get this sad fellow back on the straight and narrow.

Turning to Hobbes, Alex peeled away some of the tape from his face, and bathed it in warm water. When Hobbes showed signs of coming round, Krycek leaned forward to speak softly to him.

Slinking into the bedroom, Fox looked over Alex's shoulder at the bound man on his bed with some irritation. Alex was cooing...

"I'm not going to hurt you. Nobody wants to hurt you. We want to help you get things sorted out. Do you want a drink?"

Still kind of groggy from the shot, Tom could only nod his head. Where the hell was he? He could feel soft material against him and another man looking down at him. He blinked his blue eyes and tried to look around, see where he was and assess the situation.

He knew he was far from Pinocchio and Wraith; it appeared he was in someone's... apartment. Why the hell was he brought here? Surely he figured he would be taking to some installation, some holding area... but an apartment?

Hobbes licked his lips tasting the duct tape, "Where... where am I?" he breathed through a dry mouth, "Where's Wraith and Pinocchio? What the..." he started coughing. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. "Why have you brought me here? What is this all about?" he asked as he tested the limits of his restraints. Damn tape, Pinocchio loved the stuff 'cause he knew it was strong.

Fox was seething. The guy walks out and then has the nerve to bring his little plaything into my bed for R and R. And expects Mulder to be at his beck and call? No way. No fucking way.

Grabbing Alex's shoulder, he turned him round and spat, "Thanks for the present, sweetheart, but I can do without your leftovers. Get him out of here now before I throw him out myself."

Krycek gazed at Fox in mute astonishment for a second or two, and then bared his teeth in a snarl.

"Nice to see you too, Alex," said Fox defiantly, as he ruefully felt his indignation trickle away at the sight of that deceitfully pretty face and that arrogant and graceful body. Still, Mulder had been seriously ticked off, and there was that neatly trussed beauty lying on his bed... and Alex fucking Krycek's certainty that Fox would do just as he ordered.

But, Christ, there were Alex's mesmerizing green eyes, and that kissable mouth; and a slow tickling drop of sweat inched down his spine across skin that was suddenly buzzing like a Geiger counter from the mere fact of Alex's proximity. All he wanted was to lower his eyes in joyful submission, abase himself at the assassin's feet and run his tongue slowly, carefully, over the laces on Alex's boots.

Steeling himself, he continued, "On second thoughts, why don't you and he carry on with what you've got going here? I was just on my way out, anyway." With a level, challenging look at Alex, which faltered after only a couple of seconds, he turned to leave.

"I can't believe..." Alex growled, and then his hand shot out to seize Fox's hair. Yanking him in towards the man who lay on the bed, Alex possessed the painted mouth, thrusting his tongue in to explore its luscious interior, before forcing Fox back down onto the supine figure of Hobbes.

Oh, God, thought Fox, as Alex helped himself to a long deep kiss, and all ideas of resistance were ground to powder under his assault, I don't know why I even bother to consider defying him. Limp with desire he let Alex push him towards the prisoner, and tried to concentrate on what Alex was saying.

"Look at this guy. There's something terribly wrong with him, Fox. He's confused and scared, and he thinks that we want to kill him. He was actually sent by some fucked up agency to kill me. If you want me alive and well to fuck you, you'd do best to assist me now.

"Why would anyone think you'd want to kill them?" said Fox, dreamily. "You're just a big pussycat."

Alex looked down at Fox's moist lips and glazed eyes, and shook his head, and then he slapped the man's face.

"Are you going to help me, or do you want me to cut off your dick and feed it to you?"

Shocked back to his senses, Fox shrugged philosophically, and looked down at those sturdy boots with their neat eyelets and the tight laces that just indented the leather, and considered the importance of dignity.

"I'll help," he said. "I suppose." He looked at the man on the bed properly, at last.

He laid on the bed looking up at the two men, god but this bed smelled of sex, didn't this guy ever wash his sheets? He pulled himself up slightly to get a better look about the room and at the two men. So Alex was the one he was smelling, figured, Wraith and him looked alike but not so much to him, he could tell the difference, it was in their eyes and their scent.

Hobbes wanted to kick them both away from him but all he could manage to do was moved away from them on the bed. His innocent blue eyes held a glare to them as he gazed at the two men.

They were lovers? Well, he guessed he knew who played the woman as his eyes took in Mulder. He sure as hell made a poor excuse for a woman that was for sure. Ignoring the two, he tried to break the tape that bound him.

Fox stood over him and ran a hand adorned with black-painted fingernails through his short hair.

"Looks too cute to be anyone's choice for a killer," he observed. "Who is he working for?"

He had to get away from these two, away from Alex and get back to Pinocchio and Wraith, especially Wraith. He had to help them both and God only knew what they were doing to them both.

He felt the tape give slightly as he was stretching it out. Wiggling slightly even more he felt it give again however, he kept is eyes trained on the two arguing.

Fox turned back to Alex and frowned. "You want Mulder, don't you? You think he could sort this guy out? You know he'd just frighten him more by bombarding him with questions... antagonize him..."

Moving beside the bed he ran a hand over Hobbes's body, feeling him tense under his touch. "He must be damned uncomfortable with this tape wound so tight round him. If you've must keep him restrained, I'll get some cuffs. He's not going to get less scared while he's so helpless."

Hobbes glared up at the badly dressed man as he touched him. He wanted to shrink away from him, not even be in the same room as these two. "Just let me go. I don't want to kill... him," he said looking over at Alex, "That's not my assignment."

"Alex doesn't seem to think so," said Fox. "That's good enough for me." He pulled open a drawer on the other side of the room and rooted in its untidy depths, emerging triumphant with two pairs of handcuffs, and a large pair of sharp scissors.

"Hold him still, please, lover, he doesn't look like he's going to co-operate," smiled Fox, pouncing on Hobbes's legs where he sat on the water bed, and, rocking crazily on the liquid mattress, wrestled his boots and socks off. He snapped a pair of handcuffs round his ankles, and then slid off the bed to collect the scissors.

"Did you search him before you taped him up, Alex dear? In my experience of the military they love to carry *so* many dangerous little gadgets in all those dinky little pockets." Raising a brow, he approached Hobbes once more, the glitter in his eyes echoing the light twinkling off the long pointed blades of the scissors.

"I'd advise you to keep still for this... as Alex said, nobody wants to hurt you." He positioned himself by Hobbes bare feet and studied the problem.

Again, he felt it give and he was getting more movement out it, stretching he tape. It was cutting into his skin but at this point he didn't care.

"Y'know, I can cut through some of this tape, but it'll just *ruin* my nails peeling it off your clothes," he confided to the alarmed man. "We'll just have to do it this way. Don't move an inch."

Sliding the scissors between the cloth of Hobbes' pants leg and his bare skin, he swept the scissors up to his crotch, the razor sharp blades shearing through the fiber like butter. Within minutes, Hobbes clothes were mere pieces of oddly shaped fabric piled neatly alongside his boots by the bed. As Hobbes arms came free, Alex captured them and cuffed them behind his back.

"There," said Fox, satisfied, standing back to view the result. The man was still wearing his dog tags and under shorts. "You'll be a lot more comfortable like that." Turning to Alex, he added "I've never understood the thinking behind camouflage underwear... if they're worried about you getting shot while you take a dump, the enemy are just as likely to see your bare butt as your briefs." He sighed, shaking his head at the mysterious thinking behind military fashions.

"Maybe he'll be prepared to talk, now. These soldier-boys usually lose most of their bravado with their uniforms. Hey, I suppose those ugly briefs are uniform too, and I really think I should check them out for concealed weapons, as well." He clicked the scissors briskly, and looked hopefully at Alex. "Please?"

Hobbes could only glare at the man, wanting to badly to just hurt them both. He turned his glaring blue eyes to Alex the one man who brought him here. "You could have searched me, not degraded me," he sneered.

Shifting his body closer to Alex, though he hated to, he wanted to get away from the psycho with the scissors. He turned to Alex, "Why have you brought me? Is it just to talk? Because this is the wrong way to get someone to listen, let alone to trust you."

Fox laughed inwardly at Hobbes' expression. He looked disturbed, and was staring at Fox as if he were the result of a miscegeneous union between RuPaul and Hannibal Lecter... but at least he was talking to Alex, even if it was only because he thought, mistakenly, that he was the safer or the two. Fox was incapable of physically hurting anyone, unless in defense, or if they wanted it. He knew *that* didn't apply to Alex.

Still, if Hobbes was looking to Alex for protection, it might be worth playing on his fears. It'd probably get him into trouble with Mulder... with Alex, too, he suspected, but what the hell, it might work, and he might have some fun. He reached out his hand and ran a finger down Hobbes' thigh, and then brought the finger to his mouth and sucked on it reflectively.

"Um, tasty," he purred. Sliding from the bed, he sank gracefully to his knees at Alex's feet and placed the scissors careful beside him. Looked up at his beloved, he smiled pleadingly. "Please, Alex, let me strip him, I want to play with him. If I promise to be careful... ?"

Bending down he put his hands on either side of Alex's boots, as near as he dared without actually touching them and lowered his head. Closer, closer...the smell of the leather flooding his nostrils, every wrinkle, every speck of dust, every tight stitch of the seams sharp, bright, vivid, dragging him down, taking him unresisting to that place in his head where the world was Alex Krycek.

His tongue crept from his mouth, hesitant, hardly daring to touch, then darting out to encounter the hard ridges of the laces, hooking underneath, exploring their weave, the folds and seams of the thick hide that they pulled together so tightly. Fox could feel himself reflexively pressing his thighs together, to rub on his cock that was iron hard and so hot, pulsing inside his leather trousers. He knew that both men must be able to see his ass working, that they must know how he was getting off on this abasement, but that just made it better. He lifted a hand from the floor and let it creep between his legs, squeezing hard and letting out an involuntary groan of pleasure. As his tongue flicked over the toe of the left boot, leaving a clear, wet trail in the dusty blackness he wondered absently how long the assassin would let him continue, and, blinded with lust, he shivered with anticipation at the thought of the punishment his impudence might provoke.

Grinning at the show Fox was putting on for the wretched prisoner on the bed, Alex reached out to grab the hair again, this time jerking it roughly until his willing slave raised his head. Alex slapped him.

"You're forgetting your duties as a host, my Fox. What are you doing?" He pointed to where Hobbes lay, and sat back.

Lost in thought, Skinner sipped his coffee. What, he wondered, was going on? Kryceks and now Mulders appearing all over the place.

//What the *hell* did I ever do to deserve this?//

Denise sat beside him, admiring his calm approach to the very strange happenings of earlier. He was going to like working for AD Skinner, he could tell. The way he'd dealt with that young thug, Rocky or whatever his name was, had been nothing short of butch.

Looking up, he studied Bryson's face. What was it about this person that made him feel so protective? A transvestite, for god's sake. A Mulder clone. He suddenly had that helpless sensation of being caught in a nightmare of extreme proportions.

The sound of a hand slapping flesh reverberated from the bedroom where Mulder had disappeared a few minutes prior.

"The sound of one hand clapping." mused Denise. "I wonder what's happening in there."

Shit. "I don't know, Bryson. I just don't know ... I suppose we'd best take a look."

Denise dusted down his dress and rose to his feet. "Sir, I'm concerned about this. Things aren't what they seem. Do be careful." He pressed close to Skinner's back as they moved to the door.

In a hidden corner of his mind, Skinner couldn't help but enjoy the warmth of Bryson's body against his back. He didn't understand it and therefore chose to ignore his reaction.

Silently, he twisted the knob and pushed the door open. And, as he took in the scene before him, Skinner found himself speechless with shock.

"AGENT MULDER!" he bellowed, once he found his voice. "What the FUCK is going on in here?"

Denise had been following closely behind, and as he came to a halt, he cannoned into Skinner with enough force to knock him forward a couple of paces. When he saw the man who had earlier looked so normal, his eyes widened until they were as round as saucers. He placed a hand on his bosom and said, "Oh, my!" in faint tones.

Hobbes had closed his eyes and shrank back from the two men. Oh God, what the hell was going on? His arms jerked at the cuffs. Alex told him he only wanted him to listen but yet... He had winced when he heard Alex's palm connect with Mulder's skin. Tom wished he could just turn himself off from all this like Pinocchio could. The man was always good at shutting off from the world.

His eyes sprang open when he heard Skinner's voice. He looked to the tall man at the door, surprise flashing across his face, especially when he saw the figure behind him. Did the man say Agent Mulder? His blues flashed to Mulder. This guy was a federal Agent?

Immediately he started jerking hard at the cuffs, "LET ME GO!" he shouted. His breath was heavy from fighting. His wrists were turning red and his arms started to ache. He had squirmed away as far as he could go. His eyes glared at Alex, "You know," he hissed, "Once when Pinocchio gets free and finds you... he'll kill you. And so will I if you don't start talking to change my mind."

"There's all that talk of killing again. You see why I have you bound? You seem determined to kill us without even hearing us out." Alex grabbed Fox by the back of the neck, and hauled him in to press a kiss on the pouting lips.

Skinner winced inwardly. Christ almighty, Krycek and Mulder were lovers? This would definitely be filed under "things he *did not* need to know".

Fox gave himself up to the kiss with all desperation born of extreme sexual frustration and the horrible suspicion that Alex was going to disappear again within the next couple of minutes. He felt like some kind soul had taken a piece of barbed wire and wrapped one half round his genitals and the other, tightly, round his skull, where Mulder was beginning to wake up, prompted by the sound of his boss's voice. He was well past caring what Skinner saw, or what Mulder would0. do to him for appearing as himself.

As the kiss finished, he half turned to face Skinner and his companion and smiled, then ran a hand down his lover's body, to let it rest briefly on Alex's crotch.

Alex shivered. He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around Fox, while he had the uninhibited company of the handsome deviant. He glared at Skinner, irritated that he couldn't do what he really needed at that moment.

"Sir," Fox said with saccharine sweetness, "My office door is always open to you, but my bedroom is *not*." But Skinner's look of pompous disapproval was too much, and he felt anger boil up. Between gritted teeth, he added, "Can't you even fucking knock?"

"Sorry, baby, I think we have to work a little before we can play." Turning to Skinner, Krycek studied him.

"I need to arrange a visit to One for this kid. How do you suggest I do that?"

What's going on! shouted Mulder inside Fox's head. Let me out.

Shut up and listen, Spooky replied Fox. I'm not letting go of the body this time.

Skinner shrugged. "Truthfully, I have no idea, Krycek. I saw him at Ricky Caruso's - at least I think he was there." He paused, frowning in confusion. There had been so much going on that night - and ever since. He vaguely thought that he should recall where One had gone and with whom, but couldn't for the life of him bring it to mind. "Sorry, Krycek, I just don't know."

Taking his glasses off, he rubbed at his tired eyes. "There must be someone who can tell us where to find him. With all of these clones and androids running around town, surely we can track down the information."

Damn, even Skinner knows what's going on. Who the hell is 'One' Fox?

Fox shrugged mentally. I don't know and I don't care, he replied. But I'm planning to go along for the ride, so maybe you'll find out.

Sighing, Krycek pulled out his phone again. With his thumb, he dialed the Cigarette Smoking Man, keeping careful watch on Hobbes as he did so.

"Hello, sir. I seem to have a slight problem. I have Hobbes here. He's one of the whackos that were sent out to put a dent in the number of Mac 27s we have available. I'm not sure what to do with him. It seems churlish to kill him, but he doesn't have clearance for the information he would need, and he's getting cranky. I need to get him to One. Could you give me his current location?"

"No, don't kill him, Alex. That would be construed as most unfriendly by the people who are running him. Hold on please?"

Placing his cell down, Spender picked up his land phone and dialed the number he knew would reach David.

With a sigh, David pulled his cellular back out of his pocket. He'd just called Marita to relay One's request for 15 minutes before she arrived with Wraith. Maybe One wasn't the only one who needed to establish a rest cycle.

"Hello David, I have a problem. Alex has decided to take his charge to One. I need to give him a location. Do you have it?

"I do. But there are security issues to disseminating that information too widely, as you well know. For the usual fee, I'll call Krycek and provide him the necessary information directly, if you don't mind."

Without waiting for a reply, David disconnected the call and dialed Alex Krycek. The line was busy, so he got Krycek's voicemail. After relaying his information, he hung up and turned off his cellular phone. David knew that he needed fuel And he needed it soon; he was getting surly.

Krycek felt his phone vibrate as he hung up, and thumbed it again to retrieve the message. That was good. At least someone knew what they were doing. He turned to Fox.

"Baby, I really need you to come with me. Please?"

Fox glared at him, saying, "About time. Mulder's making our life hell trying to work out what the fuck's happening. Try and stop me!"

Denise was concerned. His poor boss seemed to be suffering from a headache. He could help. People had told him he had magic fingers. Reaching to pat the poor man on the shoulder, he murmured that he knew how to help relieve his pain through a massage. Then he checked Fox out, where he sat glowering, his lower lip petulant at having to share Krycek's attention yet again.

"That lipstick does nothing for your coloring, you know?" he said. "If I were you, I'd wear one with a plum tone. Try it. You'll see the difference."

Fox hadn't noticed Bryson's presence; he'd been so pissed off with Skinner, until he spoke. He stood and walked over to her, taking in the long brown hair, the neat business suit, and the general air of prissy school-teacherish superiority which she exuded, and thanked his lucky stars his own kinks hadn't lead him down that path.

"Thank you, it's always good to receive a tip from an expert," he said waspishly. "Maybe I should check it out again, to see if it really suits me." Wrapping his arms round Bryson tightly, he pressed his lips to hers in a brief but bruising kiss, then held her at arm's length to view the result.

"Looks fine to me," he said, brightly

Denise felt a flutter of something completely unexpected as Fox released her. He/she looked at Fox with her mouth hanging loose, and shivered. Then she stepped back, and said, "Er, yes. Ummm... thank you. So nice to have met you. I...ummm... yes."

Well, that was interesting, thought Fox. That's a sweet mouth she... he...Damn! Denise has got there. I wondered why Alex has such an obsession with mine.

She/he backed out of the bedroom, nervously patting his/her hair. "I... ah... I really should go and change."

Fox watched her leave hopefully. Maybe she'd got a red silk corset tucked away somewhere, and some fishnet stockings, and a pair of outrageously high stilettos... He swallowed convulsively, nearly slumping against Skinner at the dizzy prospect.

Pervert muttered Mulder. Pull yourself together and find out what Alex and Skinner are up to.

Skinner was left pretty much speechless at Mulder's display. He frowned at this unexpected and very disturbing version of Mulder and gripped his shoulders firmly, pushing him back towards Krycek.

He slipped his arms around Fox's waist, and buried his face in the angle of neck and shoulder, nipping the white throat.

"Come on, Fox. Need you to help me with this one, baby."

Dammit, he really, really had never wanted to know this much about either his Agent or the Rat.

He stepped back towards the door and met Krycek's amused look with a glare. "I'm going to get Bryson out of here. I'll take her ... him ... " he waved one hand expressively in the air. "I'll take Bryson back to the Embassy hotel and then we'll try to get to the rebels." Almost free of the room, he paused and looked at Mulder. "You call me on my cell, if you learn anything - I'll do the same."

And then he got the hell out of there.

He was not going to think about it. Nope, he was definitely not going to even allow thoughts of just what was going on between Mulder and Krycek - much less how long it had been going on and how it had come about in the first place - even cross his mind.

Denise waited for Skinner, and when he emerged, she said brightly, "I really need to go home and change, Assistant Director, before we go chasing off to wherever we're going, and you look to have a headache." She began to make her way to the door, unable to take her eyes off Fox, who was now leaning against Krycek's chest.

With a silent nod, Skinner followed Bryson out into the hallway. As they waited for the elevator, he sighed heavily and rubbed at his temples.

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