The Displaced Detective - Part 8 free porn video

The Displaced Detective - Part 8 by Limbo's Mistress How much of who we are is our memories? It's the sort of philosophical argument that, like, a couple of old dudes might sit around debating until the sun came up. The kind of discussion that seems to have neither a right or wrong answer. It all depends on the subject's point of view. My point of view was beginning to tell me that I might not just be the summation of my memories. However, I couldn't deny the fact that losing them bit by bit was totally not cool. Zimmer, true to his directions, was being a total ratchet. He would take his time, select a book from the shelf, then toss it into the fireplace. If we was being especially extra, he would look over and smirk at me before he did it. I remained sitting on the floor, watching my life get replaced in increments. After Armitage left, I tried to attack Zimmer, hoping that perhaps as the one actually rifling through my mind, he might have a more, you know, real presence here. However, before I could get within a yard of him, I suddenly found myself back at my starting point. After the sixth attempt, I finally gave up and sat down with a huff. It was like trying to run away from that glowing-eyed bitch. My reality was acting totally unreal. The sensation of having my life's experiences replaced, or erased, wasn't uncomfortable. The buzz in my head has become a constant I had started to ignore. It was when I actively tried to think about myself that the seriousness, and freaking weirdness, struck me. Take my military service, for example. I could recall, with vivid clarity, standing with a bunch of new recruits, right hands raised, reciting the oath to defend my country from its enemies. I also could remember how it felt to finally be handed my discharge papers, indicating that I was, once again, a civilian. There was absolutely nothing in between those two. No memory of training, or being deployed. Or fighting in two wars. I knew those experiences, those events, had actually happened. I still had my memories of talking about the war the other guys from my unit. Guys I knew, but had no idea when or how we had actually met. Even more disturbing was my childhood. Zimmer had seemingly experienced great delight in replacing my formative years in a random, haphazard manner. Everything up until second grade was still as it had been with no changes. The three years past that point, however, belonged completely to Sasha. Dance recitals, shopping for new dresses, making new friends, learning to be a proper young lady. Everything you might expect a modern girl to experience between the ages of seven and ten. I could still recall, with perfect clarity, how it had felt when Ricky Bennet yanked on my ponytail so hard it had brought me to tears. Then, the first day of summer vacation after fifth grade, Jack returned for a limited engagement of only three years. The day before my thirteenth birthday, my memories became Sasha's again. It was jarring, to say the least. To remember being a young boy, looking forward to the start of a new school year with my friends. Then the radical shift to the life of a young girl, growing and learning. Then back to a pre-teen boy just long enough to reach the cusp of manhood's beginning before I got to know, intimately, what going through the throes of puberty as a female entailed. "Eye-opening" was not nearly a strong enough description. Zimmer also played hell with some of my other memories. Many of them targeted with a purely sadistic approach. Not surprisingly, Sasha was a virgin. Probably due to a combination of her age and her family. Despite what the media says, the majority of fifteen year olds, male and female, are not sexually active. Sure, there's probably a lot of experimentation, maybe even some intimate touching. Just not a lot of actual intercourse. Then, of course, there was the issue of Daddy. Uh, Michael Dellinger. Sasha's feelings were that her father was just being the overprotective type. Keeping her safe from unscrupulous boys. As someone who knew what the man was capable of, and of what the police suspected he had done, I knew that any boy he caught with their hand in his little girl's honey pot would likely end up dead. Or broken beyond repair. "Since Miss Dellinger has no experience with the act of coitus, it's not really fair that you do." So, Zimmer went through Jack's memories, erasing every sexual encounter I'd ever had. "Now the first time really will be the first time, yes?" How long did I sit there, watching myself come unraveled? Each book in the fire meant a little less Jack and a little more Sasha. Worse were the destruction of the books which had nothing behind to replace them. As bad as it was to have slices and slivers of the young girl's memories intertwined with my own, the gaping holes marring the decades of my adult life was like demonic Swiss cheese. For example, I still knew how to disassemble and reassemble a gun, but I didn't know how to drive a car. I had memories of driving, but no recollection of being trained to do so. I could still fill out procedural forms, and knew the steps for conducting an investigation, but I couldn't even remember attending the police academy. Zimmer chuckled to himself, turning around to look at me. "Although I am enjoying myself very much, Detective, the Director will be rejoining us shortly. I know he ordered me to not completely erase you before his return. However, I think he would find it as amusing to come back and see you without a childhood." He gestured at some of the blue books that were clumped together on one of the upper shelves. "This is everything that remains of Jack Hamilton before the age of fifteen." I moaned, realizing that he was suggesting that he was going to erase my life until I was the age Sasha was now. I would remember being a little girl through a young woman, then suddenly a sixteen-year-old boy. What was left of my mind would not survive the shock. Best case, I fought through and hung onto as much of me as I could, knowing that those memories, as real as they seemed, were not mine. The other side of that coin would create a severe schism in my personality. Sasha's feelings, already out of whack due to puberty's chemical soup, would tear what resolved of Jack's resolve apart. I would probably beg him to finally erase the rest. End the confusion. My heart shuddered when I discovered there was cold comfort in that. Zimmer's grin intensified, probably from the expression of abject terror I knew was written all over my pretty, little face. Then he turned slightly to the left, eyes widening a bit as he looked at something, or someone, who wasn't there. I watched the color drain from his face. "What do you want?" he asked. "I must insist that you ..." His face went slack and he vanished from the room. I jumped to my feet, wondering with a mixture of fear and hope that his sudden disappearance was a good thing for me. Though, considering my current track record, I wasn't going to let myself be too optimistic. No sooner had I stood then a fresh wave of nausea slammed into my, making the world spin violently around me. Somehow it was worse than the last time I'd experienced it. I gagged, darkness enveloping me as my stomach totally attempted to twist itself into a million knots. I opened my eyes, watching the world around me swim back into focus. I was back on top of the reclining chair again, still as firmly strapped down and helpless as I'd been before. Thankfully, when I cut my eyes over to figure standing next to me, I was relieved to find it was Matthew, rather than Zimmer or Armitage. His hands were working on the latch of one of the thick bands. "Matthew?" I said weakly. The effects of the incidents in my mind creating thick clouds of confusion. How could he be there? Wasn't he supposed to be locked up in a cage somewhere? "Hey, Jack," he said, finally managing to get the lock to disengage. He flung the strap which had been pressed across my forehead away, then moved to the one across my shoulders and chest. As he worked, he arched a brow at me, his expression somber. "You are still Jack, aren't you?" Was I? Several important years and events in my life had been replaced or completely eliminated. At this point, I couldn't really be sure how much of my former self I had lost. However, I was mostly positive that there had been more blue books remaining on my memory shelf than pink ones. "For the most part," I replied, finding that the alien voice coming from my throat, the one that had scratched at my subconscious awareness since swapping bodies, no longer sounded foreign. It now sounded like ... me. "Well," he said in an almost apologetic tone. "I guess that's better than the alternative, huh?" I couldn't argue with that. "What are you doing here?" I asked, sitting up as the band across my hips was removed. "I mean, how are you here? Rescuing me?" Gah! I sounded like some helpless damsel. Though, I grudgingly admitted that I hadn't had a clue on how I was going to rescue myself. "Got help from a friend." He nodded behind me. I twisted at the hip, since my legs were still firmly held tight. Zimmer, my tormentor and chief architect of making me more of a girl on the inside than I ever wanted to be, was face down on the hardwood floor. He seemed to be flailing his arms and legs as if he were trying to fly. Or else was falling. Standing over him, with a smirk on her face and a glow in her eyes, was the woman who had helped Armitage's men capture me earlier. "What is she doing here?" I asked Matthew, not taking my eyes off the woman to look at him. She glanced up at me, waved her fingers in a playful manner, then said, "Hello, Detective. Nice to see you're up and about. My apologies for earlier." "Earlier?" I asked, finally able to turn completely around now that Matthew had removed the last of the straps. "You mean when you prevented me from running into the woods and escaping? Or when you helped march me into this room of pain?" She laughed, turning her attention back to the floundering monster at her feet. "Neither. I mean earlier as in, back at the farm." The reality of what she was saying hit me like a bus. However, the second I understood, it all made sense. The posture of the way she was standing, the expression on her face. So like the photos lining the mantle of the fireplace. "Signe?" She laughed, flicking her gaze up at the man behind me for a second. "See, Cornelius, your friend is still in there. Probably a little worse for wear, but not as completely gone as you feared." I hopped down from the table, a million bees instantly stinging my legs and feet the moment they touched the ground. The limbs buckled beneath me, sending me crashing down to the floor next to chair. Everything from my butt down felt like dead wood. "Easy, Jack," Matthew said, reaching a hand out to me. "You've probably been lying there for a really long time. It would be surprising if your legs had not gone to sleep." I put my smaller hand into his, allowing him to help me back up onto my feet. The pins and needles were slowly subsiding, but I still needed to lean against him to keep from going back down. "How long is a really long time?" I asked. Mainly because it felt, honestly, like the whole journey into my memory incident had only taken about an hour. Two, tops. Hell, if only seemed as if Armitage had excused himself only about twenty minutes before Zimmer got K.O'd. Matthew shrugged. "Sixteen hours. Give or take." "What?" I glanced over at Signe, who nodded in confirmation. "If the alarms we heard earlier today was you trying to escape," she said, "then it's probably closer to twenty." Twenty hours? I'd been trapped inside my own head, with a front-row seat to my own erasure, for almost twenty hours? As if my tingling legs weren't confirmation enough, I suddenly realized my bladder was earnestly trying to get my attention. However, should I have to make the choice between getting away or stopping in the restroom, I'd happily pee on myself. Without hesitation. That thought causes an amused, yet inappropriate, giggle bubble out before I could stop it. I instantly clamped my hands over my mouth, eyes widening with embarrassment and shock. Matthew blinked, looking just as stunned as I felt. Signe, however, laughed. "Seems we managed to get here in time, Cornelius," she said. "Another hour or two, and I fear we'd probably have to stop at the mall on our way to freedom." I showed her the middle finger of my other hand, then uncovered my mouth. "How did you guys manage to get free?" I asked them. Then I pointed at Signe. "I was under the impression that you no longer had your Hopping ability." There was no mistaking the accusation in my high-pitched voice. "So, how did you end up in Super-Bitch?" "This is really not the time for this discussion, Jack," Matthew said urgently. "It's not going to be long before they discover what Signe and I have done. Then the entire building will be hunting us. Including their 'special' agents." Powered people. He didn't need to actually say it for me to get the gist. "I don't trust her," I told him, not caring that Signe could hear me. "She, like, freaking sold us out. Or did you forget that?" I cocked my hip to the side and planted my hand on it, staring up at him defiantly. He might be willing to throw away good sense and keen instincts because of a pair of big boobs, but I wasn't so easily swayed. Signe laughed again. "This is so entertaining," she said with a great deal of mirth. "If it weren't for the fact that I have no plans to become a permanent resident here, I might suggest we stick around. Just so we can see what happens when an old man and a teenage girl fight for control of the same body." I turned my head to ask her what the hell she was getting at when I realized how I was standing. Like a petulant brat. I quickly yanked my hand off my hip as if it were touching a stove and straightened my posture. Which, to be honest, only caused my blossoming chest to stick out noticeably. Damn this, like, way too young body with a mind of its own. "She's right, Jack," Matthew said. "We have to get going while we can." "I don't trust her," I said, refusing to look over at Signe. "She set us up at the farmhouse. Or did you forget about that?" "I didn't set you up," Signe huffed. "In fact, if it weren't for me, you two would either still be running from dawn to dusk, or be the Order's guests." "Duh," I snapped, spinning around to glare at her. "Like, we already are. Easy pickings, thanks to your drugging us." Signe sighed and looked at Matthew expectantly. "Jack, the drug Signe dosed us with knocked us out. That much is true. But it also worked like some kind of blocking agent. When they injected me, this body I mean, with their anti-Hopper chemicals, they didn't work. When I woke up here, I still had my abilities." A little ray of hope blossomed in my chest. "Wait, does that mean we can swap back finally?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Not at the moment. The stuff they put into Sasha's body is still active. Once we get away from here, I'll inject you with the antidote." "So, I'm still going to be stuck in here even longer? Well, that sucks. Like, a lot." Then I turned to look back at Signe, who was grinning down at Zimmer's squirming form. Now his arms and legs moved in a different pattern. There was far less flailing and more ...climbing? "What are you doing to him?" I asked. "Making him believe he's trapped in a really deep hole. He's trying to climb up to the light." She laughed, cold and impersonal, as she poked the man in the side with the toe of a stylish pump. "It'll be days before he snaps out of it." The woman who had previously occupied that body had been tough, but not malicious. She could have done far worse to me, considering my attitude. I doubted she would have been as callous as to leave someone helpless for days. Thinking about someone like Signe having access to that kind of power gave me the heebie-jeebies. I wiggled my foot, discovering that the majority of feeling had returned to it. Taking a gingerly step, I was pleased to find myself standing upright again. I might not be back to running shape yet, but I could definitely walk. Hell, I could even pirouette down the hall, if I needed to. Matthew watched me take a few steps, asking if I was ready to go with just an arch of his brow. I nodded in the affirmative. "Okay," he said to both Signe and I. "Let's get going. I think we can probably make it to the prisoner cells without too much trouble." "Prisoner cells?" I asked. He nodded. "They are down a level at the rear of the house." "Downstairs? Why aren't we just going for the front door? We need to get out of here." I winced at the whiny tone in my voice. Sasha-Me was going to have to woman up and stop being a spoiled brat. "We need a diversion," he replied, pulling open the door a crack and peeking out into the hallway. "Something to keep all of the Order's agents busy while we make our escape." "Is that a good idea?" I asked. Well, Jack-Me asked. "I mean, from what I've been able to put together, some of those the Order has captured are a serious danger to the general public." "True," Signe said from right behind me. I hadn't even heard her cross the room. "However, at the moment, they are assets we can use. Some of them will be recaptured before they can go back to terrorizing society, Detective. Some will get away, only to be reclaimed at a later date. Still others, a group I sincerely hope includes us, will vanish off the Order's radar. Never to see the inside of this place again." "Okay," I said. I didn't like the idea of letting dangerous people with super powers loose, but I liked the idea of staying here and becoming the vapid pawn of Armitage even less. "We throw open the cages, then run for the cars?" "Cars?" Matthew asked, looking back at me. I nodded. "There's a whole parking lot of black SUVs within fifty yards of the front door. I think I can still remember how to hotwire one." Matthew gave me a smile. I think he meant it to be friendly. It came off as patronizing. I should know, because I'd smiled that same way many a time before. "I was thinking something a little faster and harder to follow. Like a helicopter." "Helicopter?" I asked. Then I smacked myself in the forehead. Literally. Of course Armitage would have access to a helicopter. A soon as he got word of a new powered individual, or one that he was already looking for, he wouldn't want to waste any time mobilizing his strike team. A fleet of shiny SUVs might come in handy for traveling through the city streets and open countryside, but a whirlybird was a lot more efficient. Hell, I bet the bastard even had, like, a private jet or two on continuous stand-by at the local airport. Signe softly cleared her throat, drawing both of our attentions. "You know that we are not going to simply make it to the holding area unscathed, Cornelius. We will encounter some obstacles along the way. You're going to have to be willing to Hop back and forth. And kill, if that's what it takes for us to make it out." He frowned. "I'll burn that bridge when I get to it. Okay?" She sighed and shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just remember this, I will not be a prisoner anymore. If that means that you and Punky Brewster get left behind, too bad." "You're an absolute bitch," I said through gritted teeth. "Did having your powers make you that way? Or was it after you lost them that you became heartless." She simply smiled, not rising to the bait. Probably because I sounded less like a grown up and more like someone complaining about getting grounded. "Look, we have to work together, okay?" Matthew said. "So if you two could just quit antagonizing each other until we're flying to freedom, I would greatly appreciate it." I glared up at Signe, then huffed. "Whatever. Can we get moving now?" We stepped out of the room, Signe in front, Matthew in the back, and me sandwiched between them. I hated being treated like the weakest member of the team, but I knew I had to accept the fact that, essentially, I was. Both Signe and Matthew had powers they could call upon. I didn't even have my former strength. Nor did I have any of my military training. Unless we encountered a situation that required someone who could do a back handspring or a triple twist, I was the liability. Of course, there was also the issue of my refusal to allow Signe to be at my back. I didn't care what Matthew said, I didn't trust her one inch. She was as sneaky and underhanded as Rebecca Chambers, my middle-school arch nemesis. The hallway carried us back to the center hub, where I had enjoyed punching Armitage in the boy parts. I had to repress a giggle at the memory of the way his face turned white as the pain from my punch had registered in that geezer head of his. I hoped I would get a chance to do it again. I cast a longing look at the front door for a moment before following Matthew down a side hallway. At the end of the corridor, we came to a closed metal door with an electronic security pad affixed to the wall next to it. "Anyone happen to know the code?" I asked in a whisper. Matthew looked at Signe, who flashed us both an annoyingly snug smile. "Allow me," she said, moving past us to place her hand over the keypad. Her eyes glowed for a moment, then she punched in a series of numbers. A second later, the sound of the lock disengaging came from somewhere inside the door. "How?" I asked. "There is some psychic residue on the buttons," she said, turning the handle and opening the door. "Some what?" She sighed. "Each time someone entered the code, they were thinking about the code. It left a ... fingerprint, so to speak." I simply nodded, filing the information away for later inspection. On the other side of the door was a concrete staircase that only went down. We crept along the steps, listening intently for any sounds of alarms or approaching footsteps. When we finally made it to the next level, we found another heavy door waiting for us. "How do you know they are keeping the prisoners here?" I asked. Matthew put his hand on the door. "I saw it when they were taking me to the interrogation room. The control room is at the other end of the hallway past this door. From there, we can open the cells, turn off the lights, pretty much manipulate everything on this floor." "There's a good chance the elevator to the roof is somewhere here as well," Signe added. When Matthew opened the door, we stepped into a long hallway very similar to the one Armitage had led me through after I'd awakened. Only this one was devoid of portraits and d?cor. Each of the twenty doors lining the walls looked like it was made out of wood, but felt cool and metallic to the touch. There was a video screen next to each door, allowing those outside the room to see within. I stopped at the first one on the right, staring at the images before me. There was a girl, about my age, lying on a bed reading a magazine. About Sasha's age, I mean. In addition to the bed, the room was furnished with a desk, a vanity, and a dresser. A flat-panel television, currently dark, hung on one wall. Across from the bed was another doorway, and I could barely make out the curve of a sink just inside it. The girl herself didn't seem that remarkable. Dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders. A slender build that was thinner than mine and not nearly as developed. I couldn't see if she was pretty, due to her face being downcast toward the magazine. However, she did appear to be at least sort of cute. In a waifish way. Pulling my eyes away from the screen, I looked at the small brass plate affixed to the front of the door. "Subject # 223: "Laura Carroll". Mimetic Metamorph." I looked back to the monitor. The girl was still lying on the bed, reading her magazine. However, she now sported a head honey blonde hair that was styled a bit shorter than my crimson cut. Additionally, she seemed to have gained a couple of inches in leg length and at least three cup sizes. I still couldn't see her face, but something told me she would be beautiful. "Jack!" hissed Matthew. I turned to see he and Signe were almost to the end of the corridor. I hadn't realized they had gotten so far ahead, and they obviously hadn't noticed that I'd stopped to observe the girl in the room. When I caught up with them, I saw the Signe's eyes were glowing again. She shot me a look of disappointment. "As cute as it was back in that other room to see your feminine side taking a bit of control, if you don't put her under wraps and get back to thinking like a trained adult, we're going to get caught." She pointed up toward the ceiling. I managed to keep the snarky retort on my lips from being uttered and followed her finger. There, plain as a noonday sun, was a security camera. A shudder ran through my petite frame, and I whipped my gaze back around to the woman. "The room at the end of the hall has two guards in it who are monitoring the feed. Right now, they are only seeing an empty corridor. But to maintain that ruse, I need your pig-tailed ass to stay with us. No more wandering off on your own. Understand?" I balled my hands into fists, beyond furious that she would dare lecture me in such a manner. Hell, I even almost asked her if she knew who I was. Then I wrestled my brain into a submission hold and nodded in acquiescence. Don't get pissy at Signe, Jack. You should have noticed those cameras the second you stepped into the hallway. You're letting too much of Sasha out. Keep it under control. Remember who you are. Yet, that was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Who was I now? A girl dreaming that she's a full-grown policeman? Or a full-grown policeman who remembers being a young girl? Ugh, it was maddening. "Sorry," I said, trying to sound like I meant it. "Won't happen again." Matthew gestured at the last door on the right. It looked exactly like the rest of them, except it had a thick window set into it, rather than a video screen. The guards' station. The three of us crept along the hallway, sticking close together. When we reached the door, Signe signaled for Matthew and I to hold back. She reached up, did her keypad trick, then put her hand on the handle. "Ready?" she whispered. Then, without waiting for our response, pushed open the door. Matthew and I rushed in behind her, ready to subdue the guards before they could sound the alarm. I knew that I probably would just get in Matthew's way, since he now possessed my stronger, better trained, body. However, I was totally not prepared for what my eyes drank in after I closed the door behind me and turned around. The guards, one male, one female, sitting in front of a bank of video screens were no longer interested in keeping a secure watch on the activities taking place within the manor. Or outside the manor. Or anyplace else, to be honest. They had eyes only for each other. Sincerely. Tongue swirled around each other in a frenzy of passion as hands fondled and fumbled with buttons, buckles, and zippers. The sounds that came from their throats were animalistic. Primal. This wasn't two people in the grip of love, or even lust. This was two horny creatures whose only drive at the moment was removing enough clothing from the other in order to rut and breed. "What the hell, Signe?" Matthew barked, looking from the couple (who were now on the floor tearing at each other's uniforms), to her. "I thought the plan was to just put them to sleep." The woman laughed, stepping around the pair toward the control panel. "That was what I was going to do. But when I saw them, I just thought it would be so much better to have them occupied with something more ...amusing." I rolled my eyes, moving to stand next to her. "You're sick. You know that? There is something seriously wrong with you." She laughed, then turned to look down at me. "Better be nice, Detective. Unless you want to make it a m?nage a trois." I glared up at her, then looked at the panel in front of us. A quick scan revealed the switched we were looking for. "There," I said, pointing. "That will open all the doors on this level and the one beneath us." Matthew's arm appeared over my shoulder, his thick finger extended. "There's the chopper," he said. I glanced up. Sure enough, on the middle of a concrete slab painted with a giant "H", sat a jet black Bell 230 helicopter. Just like the one Daddy had. I turned around slowly, scanning the walls. On the one opposite the door was one of those "emergency evacuation route floorplans". When I walked over an examined it, I discovered that the elevator was actually back up on the ground floor. Not too far from the foyer. "After we pull the open switch," I said to them. "We're going to have to run back upstairs, into the lobby area, then take the second hallway on the right. The elevator to the roof is down that way." Matthew frowned. "That's going to be a stretch. As soon as the prisoners find out they're free, they're going to either start to make a break for it, or get some much-desired revenge. We don't want to be caught in the middle of that." I nodded, then looked at Signe. "Can you use your power to make them not see us?" She shrugged. "Maybe? I wasn't even sure I could use it on these two at the same time. Felt like trying to hold a pair of dumbbells over my head with my mind. If I try to put the whammy on a group all at once, I'll probably have an embolism." I politely refrained from expressing my sincere hope that she was right. Instead, I shrugged. "Then we run like hell," I said. "At least, in that respect, this body is good for something." "It'll be good for more than that in a couple of years," she replied, tossing me a wink. "Enough," Matthew said, sounding like an impatient me. "Think we can make it to the helipad without you two fighting the whole way?" Neither of us answered him, but the both nodded. "Then let's go." Matthew reached over and flipped all the switches that unlocked the prisoners' cell doors. As soon as he did, a domed light overhead began to swirl and flash red. A moment later, a dull alarm began to sound. "What the hell?" I asked, looking at the two of them. "A failsafe?" Signe commented. "In case what just happened, happened?" "Crap!" I said, running for the door. By the time we were halfway back to the stairs, most of the doors on our floor were sliding open, allowing the occupants to step out. I spotted a guy who had eyes that glowed a brilliant red and orange hue, matching the flames that were flickering across the top of his bald head. There was a woman with what looked like dragonfly wings sprouting from her shoulders. I forced my attention forward, pushing my legs to carry me to the awaiting door. Amazingly enough, Matthew managed to get there at the same time I did. I might have been faster and more energetic, but he had the advantage of longer legs. He pushed open the door and ushered me inside the stairwell. Signe ran in a half-second behind me. As the door slid to a close behind us, I risked a glance back over my shoulder. Standing in the hallway, right outside her open door, was the girl I'd observed earlier. Our eyes met for a brief second, then her features seemed to melt for a heartbeat before rearranging themselves into a perfect copy of mine. Right down to the ragged red hair. Then the door clicked shut. At the top of the stairs, we heard the sound of dozens of boots pounding the concrete on their way down to our location. Matthew quickly yanked open the door and practically threw me out into the hallway. Once Signe had come through as well, he pulled the door closed, then punched the keypad with his fist. The plastic front of the device cracked, issuing a stream of sparks that arc in the air, then went dark. Matthew pulled his hand back, leaving a smear of crimson in its place. He glanced down at his busted knuckles for a moment, then over at me. "Sorry about that," he said sincerely. "If it buys us a few extra seconds, I think I can live with it." I took off down the hall toward the foyer, my tennis shoes slapping the floor. The cacophony of commotion erupted all around us, the sounds of people yelling, people running, and people screaming. I took the twinge of guilt that formed in my heart and pushed it down as far as it would go. None of the people employed here deserved my empathy. They'd cast their lot with Armitage, and deserved whatever the newly-freed prisoners did to them. I'd save my shame for the innocents that might get hurt later. At the center juncture, I screeched to a halt. Not because I couldn't remember where I was going, but because of the person blocking my way. "Hey, again," Jerry said, flashing me a greasy smile. "I was hoping I might run into you." I froze, panic locking down my response. I still remembered the last time I was in the boy's presence. The things I'd wanted him to do to me. The things I'd wanted to do to him. The thoughts made my inflated pulse begin to quicken. Don't breathe, Jack. Don't breathe him in. It's his pheromones. I covered my mouth and nose with my hand, holding in the air in my trembling lungs. Already, I could feel the burning in my chest starting. It was just a matter of seconds before I couldn't resist taking a needed breath. Then I would be his. I detected motion behind me. Matthew and Signe. I turned around, waving my arm to let them know that the boy was dangerous. Probably not to Matthew, but definitely to Signe. "Oh, more people," Jerry said in a soft tone. "Excellent." Still holding my breath, I watched as Signe's eyes flared brighter, then winked out. Her face lost its perpetual scowl and softened. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip and her gaze travelled up and down the portly boy's body. She was falling for him, and soon would be completely devoted to him. Matthew glanced at Signe, then to me. I guess he was in tune with my stolen instincts because he took five steps forward and punched Jerry right in the face. "No!" Signe moaned, moving toward her fallen love. "Don't hurt him." I clenched my jaw, ignored the scream of my aching lungs, and tackled her from the side as she passed me. We fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, the impact causing me to lose control of my diaphragm. A loud gasp escaped from my mouth, followed by a huge inhale of fresh air. Air that had a delicious, musky scent to it. I knew that aroma. Intimately. I turned my head just in time to see Matthew draw back his foot and kick my lover square in the jaw. "No!" I screamed as I disengaged from Signe and crawled rapidly on my hands and knees to Jerry's side. He was completely unconscious, with trickles of blood seeping out of his nose and a minor gash across his temple. I pulled his head into my lap, stroking the greasy hair away from his pale, pimply, perfect forehead. "Jack," Matthew said as he reached down and took one of my arms. "Snap out of it." I shook my head. Why would I listen to someone who had attacked the father of my future children? I didn't want to run away with him and his bitchy ex-girlfriend. I wanted to stay here with Jerry and belong to him. Be owned by him. Signe climbed to her feet, groaning softly. When her gaze drifted over to me, she narrowed her eyes. "Why you little tramp." She marched toward me, and I responded by pulling the unconscious boy in my lap closer against me. She might be bigger, older, and possess preternatural powers, but I was not going to let her have my love. I'd kill her first. "Signe," Matthew said, looking from me to her. "Stop. Can't you see she's being ... affected by something this boy did?" The other woman nodded, still advancing on me. Meanwhile, the alarms and commotion taking place around us continued unabated. "Oh, I'm well aware of that, Cornelius. Not to fret, though. I have the solution." She shoved past Matthew and grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking upwards forcefully. I thought my scalp was going to rip off as I screamed at the top of my lungs and rose to my feet to keep from being torn bald. Jerry slid off my lap to the floor in a heap, laying there looking so handsome. So sexy. So virile. Whack! Signe's hand struck my cheek. Coincidentally, the same one Armitage had slapped the previous day. "Stop!" Matthew yelled, grabbing Signe's arm. "Just stop." "It's okay," I said, wincing from the agony in my face and the pain in my scalp. I reached up and grabbed the hand gripping my hair. "You can let go now. I'm over it." She reluctantly released me, then looked down at the boy. "If we had the time, I'd cut off his balls." "What the hell was that?" Matthew asked. I rubbed at my aching head. "This guy's something called a Harem Master. Apparently he can make women fall completely in lust with him." I nodded at Signe. "A quick burst of pain seems to break the spell." Signe nodded. "Good thing you hit me first," she said. "Now, let's get out of here before any more of the Order's pet monsters arrive." Matthew led the way to the elevator, where Signe did her keypad mojo. The doors slid open and I stabbed the button labeled "Roof". As the car ascended, I looked up at the two of them. "I know this is kind of a bad time to be asking this, but can either of you actually fly a helicopter? Because I can't remember if I ever knew or not." Matthew grinned. "Flew more than a few sorties over Saigon," he said proudly. "I think I still remember my way around a stick." "I'm sure you do," Signe said in a innuendo-laden tone that made Matthew blush. The helicopter was unguarded. Either all the Order's agents were too busy trying to contain our manufactured jailbreak, or else they didn't think we'd consider stealing it as our getaway vehicle. Matthew ran across the pebble-strewn roof to the pilot's seat while Signe and I removed the thick coils of nylon rope running across the landing struts. Just as I finished loosening the last knot on my side, I heard someone behind me speak. "Running off so soon, Sasha?" Armitage's smooth voice said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist you stay. At least until all traces of that fucking detective are removed from your pretty little head." I spun around to see the Order's head honcho standing a couple of yards away, flanked on either side by a black-suited man in mirrored sunglasses holding a taser in one hand and a pistol in the other. "You're not going to hurt me," I said, backing up a step toward the chopper. "You need me whole in order to get Dad ... Michael Dellinger to play ball with you." Armitage smiled. "That's what the tasers are for, Jack. The guns, however, are for your meddlesome associates. While I would really like to have a couple of new Body Hoppers in my coterie, I think this is a case where I'm better off cutting my losses." He turned to the man on his left. "Go and collect Cornelius and Signe. If they resist, just shoot them." The man nodded and strolled with a bit of a swagger toward the helicopter. Then he stopped, shook his head, and turned around to look back at Armitage. "Okay, folks. It's over. You better come with me." He raised the gun, pointing it in the direction of his partner and his boss. "What are you doing?" Armitage said, moving slightly back to put himself partially behind the other thug. "Put that thing down." "Look, nothing personal. But the man in charge said I can shoot you if you resist." He thumbed back the hammer on the weapon. A stupid show-off move, particularly with an automatic like he was brandishing. I glanced over my shoulder to see Signe, half-hidden behind the nose of the chopper. Her eyes were glowing brightly. When I turned back to the scene, the man in front of Armitage had his gun pointed at his buddy. "George," he said. "What are you doing, man? Stop pointing that thing at us." George shook his head, smiling. "Well, you shouldn't have resisted." Both of the pistol-toting men fired at the same time. George's bullet struck his partner in the throat, sending a spray of arterial crimson, nearly the same shade as my hair, arcing through the air. The man fell backward into Armitage. Herman, caught off balance, stumbled sideways and fell to his knees. Old Georgie had taken a direct hit to the center of his forehead. Thankfully, the angle at which he was standing meant the brains and gore that flew out of the back of his head missed me completely. Because, getting splashed with the contents of that loser's head would have been, like, totally gross. "Signe!" Matthew called. "What did you do?" He ran over to me, looked me over to make sure I wasn't hurt, then turned to glance down at the three men, two of whom were no longer breathing, lying on the roof. "What needed to be done," Signe said, walking over to stand just behind me. "They weren't going to let us just leave, Cornelius. Can't you understand that?" "So you killed them?" "Technically, they killed each other. I just facilitated it. Only one more loose end and we can be on our merry way." Armitage was slowly rising to his feet. "Signe," he said. "I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Surely you can see that we could do so much if we were working together." The woman laughed, shaking her head. "You mean like we did before you trapped me in that bloated, aging, powerless body? You think I would ever trust you again after that?" Armitage flashed her a disarming, properly chastised, smile. But his eyes flickered down the gun resting about three feet away from him. When his gaze came back up, his grin turned conspiratory. "I apologize for doing that to you. I really do." Then he gestured at her with one hand. "However, it seems to have worked out in your favor, has it not? Not only do you have your Hopper abilities once more, you also have Darla's mental ones. Twice as powerful as you used to be. Think of the possibilities, the things we could do as partners." "Oh, I have, Herman," Signe said. Something in her voice made me turn around to look at her. Her eyes were already becoming illuminated. "I've thought about it, and come to the conclusion I will be just fine on my own. Tootles." The shuffle of feet across rock brought my attention around. Armitage, his face a mask of utter terror, ran screaming past me toward the edge of the roof. When he reached the ledge, he didn't even slow down. Despite looking out of shape and kind of fattish, he managed to jump over the low wall running along the top of the manor and vanished. A second later, the sickening thump of something heavy hitting the ground echoed up to me. Disgusting, but I couldn't say it upset me. The asshat who started this whole mess my life had become was finally gone. Matthew sighed, then began to walk to the helicopter. "Let's go," he said sadly. We lifted off and headed toward the west. According to Signe, we were about five hundred miles from her farm. Matthew figured that would be the best place to go, since we had a vehicle there waiting for us. I spent the majority of the four-hour flight alternating between dozing and thinking. The dozing was due to my young body's sleep schedule having been completely disrupted for the past four days. The thinking was about what I was going to do once we landed and Matthew swapped us back. I didn't want to continue to run, living outside the law. Especially not with a teenage girl constantly by my side. Eventually, we'd get caught. There was the possibility that we could return home, where Jack Hamilton would explain that some shadowy organization was after Michael Dellinger's daughter. That I'd taken her to keep her safe. A serious stretching of the truth, but I was pretty sure Matthew would back me up. Of course, that would mean Matthew would have to pretend to be Sasha, something I wasn't completely convinced he could pull off. Dellinger was the kind of man who noticed things, and if he thought something had been done to his daughter, I had no doubt he would find me responsible. The bump of the landing struts on hard, packed earth jolted me awake from one of my catnaps. The whirling rotors overhead slowly wound down as I unfastened my seatbelt and climbed out of the cockpit. My legs were shaking a bit as I walked away from the aircraft. The field we were in was about a quarter mile from the house. The setting sun cast an orange glow over everything, making it seem as if it were burning vibrantly. "Well, Detective," Signe said coming up behind me. "That was quite the adventure, right?" I turned around and looked up at her. "I'm not sure I'd call that an adventure. It would have been less traumatic if you'd informed us of the plan before drugging us. What if we hadn't been able to escape?" She shrugged. "I guess we'll never know about that, huh?" "No, there's were you're wrong. See, I may look like a little girl to you. Sound like one at times. But there's still a trained investigator living in my head. I know how to read people. If you plan had failed, you would have willing sided with Armitage. Thrown Cornelius and me under the bus to save your own ass. Don't try to deny it." Signe laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of denying it, Jack. As you so succinctly put it, I look out for myself, first and foremost. Which is not a good thing for you. See, Cornelius is easily manipulated. Weak. He blindly followed me around for decades like a lovesick puppy. I have no wish to give up my powers, or his company." I took a step backward. "What are you talking about?" She laughed again. "Well, for starters, I think you should know the truth. The antidote that counteracts the drug keeping you trapped in that adorable form has to be administered within thirty-six hours or it's ineffective." A cold chill swam through my veins. "What?" "Yes. So I guess the first thing is to let you know that you'll be Sasha for the rest of her life." She took a step forward. "Unfortunately, I prefer not to take any unnecessary chances. Since I don't trust you to not attempt to interfere, I think it would be better for all, meaning Cornelius and myself, if the police found the missing Dellinger girl wandering around by herself. Completely catatonic from her ordeal." I took another step back as her eyes began to glow. "After all the poor thing has suffered, who could fault her for never being the same again?" She smiled down at me. "Look on the bright side, with your family's wealth, I'm sure the hospital they put you in will be first-class. No run of the mill padded cells for you, girlie." Her eyes flashed brighter, and I felt the sensation of a cat's claws attempting to dig into the soft matter inside my skull. I cried out and planted my hands on the sides of my head, nearly doubling over from the pain. So focused as I was on the screeching in my mind, I didn't recognize the sound of the gunshot for a couple of seconds. The agony between my ears abruptly ceased, and I looked up to see that the glowing light in Signe's eyes had gone out. There was also a rapidly growing red spot spreading out across her chest. I turned my head to the side, still fighting a bout with nausea, to see Matthew standing about thirty feet away in a classic shooter's stance. A black pistol, just like the one George had used on his partner, was gripped tightly in his hands. Signe placed both of her hands over the wound, turning to look at Matthew. "You told me I was going to need to be able to kill, if it came to that," he said, immediately averting his eyes from hers. "It came to it. I'm sorry." Signe coughed, a little spray of red ejecting from her mouth to glint in the fading daylight. She dropped to one knee, still clutching her chest. Her head swiveled around in my direction, her gaze seeking out mine. Knowing what she was attempting to do, I turned my back to her and shook my head. "Bye, Felicia," I said, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared at the slowly descending ball of fire in the sky. A moment later, I heard her body hit the dirt and the last breath exit her lungs. Matthew walked over and stood in front of me. He had an extremely guilty look on his face. He met my eyes for a moment, then turned his attention down to the gun in his hands. "Take that from one of Armitage's men?" I asked. He nodded. "I knew Signe would try to double-cross us. Or at least, you. Her plan, even though it was successful for helping us get away from the Order, was really formulated with only one goal." "Getting her abilities back." He nodded. "I loved her for a long time, Jack. In the end, though, I could not stand there while she destroyed what was left of you. I couldn't." "I understand," I said, reaching out to put my hand on his arm. "You made the hard call. Something every cop has to do more than once in their lives." He sighed. "So, what are we going to do now? Keep running?" I gave him a tight smile and shook my head. "Actually, I've been thinking about that for a while now, and I have an idea might work out well for both of us." Author's Note: This is a rather long chapter. Mainly because I couldn't decide on where a good breaking point might be, as well as the fact that it is the next to last chapter in this tale. Up next! The Obligatory Epilogue!