Pain is the first feeling that came back to the young woman. The pain of seeing her boyfriend murdered, the pain of being tortured, and the pain of being raped all flooded back into her near-conscious mind. The events of the past week whirl around her weak mind until the images of degradation, blood and death join into one image. She faintly remembers someone killing the two men with a sword (?) but that probably didn't happen.

Her eyes flutter open, and she looks into the face of a middle-aged man. One of his hands rests on her forehead, gently stroking her hair; the other holds a steaming cup of something. His face looks cold and hard, while his eyes look soft and sad, as if he's seen too much, for a long time. Without warning, the girl jumps back and crouches up on the edge of a couch.

Gavin leans back, and puts his hands up in front of him. "No, no, wait! Please calm down."

"Where am I?" the girl whispers to Gavin, her body still coiled to move at any moment.

"You're safe, that's all that matters," the immortal says, in a gentle voice, before he steps away from the couch and walks over to a table. He takes a plate loaded with food, and hands it to the girl. With a little coaxing, the girl takes the plate and eagerly eats.

A faint light disappears around the tall man's throat, though the woman doesn't notice.

"Who are you?" she asks between bites.

"My name is Gavin, Gavin Monorth. I found you in that room in the back of the bar. What were you doing there?" He says, sitting down on a chair at the table.

The girl doesn't answer, but looks around the room for the first time. The room isn't too small, but then again, it isn't large by any standard. The entire room is shaped like a tunnel, the walls flowing into the roof in a smooth arch. One wall is painted burgundy, the other in teal, and the colors blend down the center of the arch in a purple explosion. A large window opening up to a skyline of Milwaukee shows the blinking lights of an urban jungle in the middle of its dry season. Only two rounded-top doors lead out of the tunnel, one next to a partitioned kitchen, and the other in the middle of the wall. Next to each of the door are flat pillars, topped with scrollwork. The leather couch is on the wall opposite of the window, giving the sitter a great view. Next to the couch on the right rests an end table, covered in magazines, books, and a large lamp. A single dinner table, with a black tablecloth and bowl of fruit, is the only other object of furniture in the tunnel-like room. Above the couch is a painting that, while disturbing in its content, is very beautiful. In the center is the picture of the Grim Reaper, holding a scythe and cloaked in black, standing atop a hill in the middle of a battle. All around him/her floats the souls of the dead soldiers, gathering into its black skirt. A bright light surrounds the Reaper, with the faintest impression of a woman's face in the white light, pulling in its collected souls. Below, in the battle, men fight each other, dressed in the armor of countless ages and countries. Men are being killed with sword, axe, arrow, and bullet. The carnage of the picture, and the bright center look almost too real for the young woman, whose eyes have been drawn to it.

"Where am I?" she asks again, after swallowing a bite she's been holding in her mouth.

"In my apartment, in downtown Milwaukee. You're safe here, I promise you that," Gavin says, handing her a glass of water. "Do you have a name?"

"Charlie," the girl says, without really thinking.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Charlie nods her head, and sips the water that she was given. Without another word, Gavin stands up, and walks to the door in the middle of the wall. He opens it up to a short hallway. He walks a few feet in, pulls out some clothes, and brings them back into the living room.

"Here, put these on until we can find something suitable for you to wear," he says, and throws the light blue garments to Charlie.

"Are you a doctor?" Charlie asks, looking at the "scrubs" that she is holding in her hands.

"You could say that. The bathroom is down the hall, to the left. You might want to get washed up," he says, pointing down the hallway. Without another word, Charlie stands up, and walks to the bathroom. When Charlie is finally out of sight, Gavin visibly sags in his chair, and takes off his black coat, revealing a leather harness that is all but invisible to view. An assortment of knives, guns, and small striking tools are all over the battle webbing, making Gavin a walking armory. After snapping a few buttons, he takes the harness off, and rests it on the table with a black tablecloth. He removes his tie, and unbuttons his red shirt, exposing a white tank top. He pulls out a small, clear crystal with words scrolled on the top: "In balance with this life, this death". He strokes it for a few seconds his eyes taking a far off look, remembering a time aboard a Lighter that went terribly awry. He was wrong about Charlie; she looked much older when she was awake. He'd put her in her early twenties, not much younger than he looks. He felt sorry for the torment that she went through. He couldn't believe that someone would be willing to cause such harm without any remorse.

It looked like her captors liked their job; in fact, liked the scared look in her almost dead eyes. Gavin cannot stand any form of torture.

He can't endure the look of pain in anyone's eyes.

He looks up from his reverie as the newly cleaned Charlie walks back into the room. She has soft red hair, which reaches a little below her shoulders. Her green eyes stare from beneath thin eyelashes, giving her a very wide-eyed look. She is cute, in most respects, though very short, standing a little under 5 feet. The scrubs, which should fit everyone, are very baggy on her.

"What happened?" she says, sitting on the arm of the couch, drawing her short legs up to her chest.

Gavin takes a deep breath, and walks to the window. He takes another deep breath, and begins.

"I was in Club 88 tonight, drinking a beer, when I heard someone scream. So I rushed towards the sound of the scream, and saw these two guys standing over a dead man. The both pulled guns on me, but the bouncer behind me was there with a shotgun. He distracted them while I grabbed you and ran." Gavin turns around. "What did they do to you? When I got you here, you were all bruises and cuts. Why would these men do this to you?"

Charlie gives Gavin a long look, and grabs the glass of water on the end table. She takes a long sip of the water, and then stares at her hand. She nearly drops the water when she drops it on the table, as she stares at her arm and shoulder, and legs. She puts her hands up to her face, and can't feel any bumps or sore spots. She finally rests her eyes on Gavin in a very defiant stare.

"What did you do to me? There is no pain! I can't see any scrapes or bruises! How did you heal me?" she asks him in a very confused and scared tone.

"I am a doctor. And besides, does it matter how you were healed?" Gavin says in a gentle voice. "You just are." He inches over to the couch, and sits on the opposite arm.

"Well, I guess not. What time is it?" she says, pulling up the sleeves of her arms, trying to keep them from rolling over onto her hands.

"A little before five AM. It should be dawn soon. Do you remember how you were abducted, or why you were?" Gavin asks, who is now sitting just out of arms reach of her.

"My boyfriend and I were just walking down the street when these two men who looked the same started to walk next to us. Pretty soon they started to talk to Joe, my boyfriend, and they told him about a bar in downtown. When we got there, we... we... we were attacked from out of the shadows by the..." She starts to break down in tears, and Gavin puts his arm over her shoulder. Charlie tries to push him away at first, but quickly wraps herself around his arms.

"Shhh, shhh. It's okay. They can't hurt you anymore. You're safe here," Gavin mutters over and over into Charlie's ear, while stroking her hair.

They embrace for several minutes, with Charlie crying and Gavin making assertions of her safety, before he breaks the embrace and pushes her away.

"Are you okay?" Gavin asks, wiping her cheek clean of tears.

She nods, and Gavin takes her hands. He leads her down the short hallway in the middle of the wall, to the last door on the right. He opens up the door and walks in. The room is sparsely furnished, like the rest of the place, with a bed, nightstand, and dresser. An open door leads to a bathroom and another to a closet.

"You are probably pretty tired from your experience. You can sleep here, if you'd like," says Gavin.

She nods again, and walks into the room.

"Where will you be sleeping?" she asks in a scared voice.

"In the room right next to yours." He taps the door at the very end of the hallway. "This is my room. Make yourself home, and tomorrow we'll see about getting you clothes and contacting the authorities. Okay? Goodnight, or should I say Good morning?" Gavin smiles, and shuts the door.

He leans against Charlie's door for a few seconds, making sure that she doesn't try to leave or do anything insane, and walks into his own room.

He slowly shuts the door, so he doesn't make a sound, and takes off his shirt. The furnishings of his room, unlike every other room of the flat, are very dense. A large bed is in the middle of the room, with a nightstand on either side. A filled bookshelf takes up an entire wall, with books from almost every genre. There is a wooden dresser, finely carved to show bat-heads at the corners, rests on the wall next to the bookshelf. An oaken desk sits underneath a large window, which looks out into the dusky light of the early dawn. On the wall above the bed is a large wooden cross, with an ankh inlaid over the center. Surrounding the cross is collection of swords and knives, all sharpened to a razor-edge. Gavin walks over to the bookshelf, and pulls out the books In Praise of Folly, by Erasmus and A Critique of Pure Reason, by Kant. Laying the books on the small counter in front of the bookshelf, Gavin reaches his hands inside the empty spaces, and pulls hard on hidden levers. A clicking sound comes from behind the bookshelf, and the two shelves swing out, showing a hidden cache of weapons.

Guns of all sizes and shapes line the walls of this hidden cabinet. There is a Glock 19, a Beretta 9mm, a HK Sig Saur, a Walther PPK, a Desert Eagle, an MP-5, a .10 gauge shotgun, an M16, a LAW, an assortment of grenades and explosives, and a Peacemaker. Among the guns and explosives is an assortment of bladed and blunt weapons from almost every era of melee combat. Swords, axes, maces, daggers, hatchets, staffs, and flails make up the weapons; each one very deadly when used by the right hands.

From his pocket, Gavin pulls out the voxes of the slain immortals, and places them on a foam-covered drawer with other voxes in it. The gauntlets, he places in another drawer, also filled with similar items. Gavin finally pulls out the long, black sword from its sheath on his wrist, and places it on hooks in the middle of his hidden armory.

After closing the bookshelf, Gavin climbs into bed and winds his old fashioned alarm clock to go off in two hours. He lies there in his plush bed, wearing his white tank top and black slacks, just thinking about the day and the problems he's had. After a few minutes of reflection, with his mind continually coming back to the image of Charlie, Gavin drifts off to sleep, hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

****

Like clockwork, the old clunker bus rolls down the street in downtown Milwaukee, spreading its acrid diesel fumes into the small cafe. This morning after the long night is almost a perfect carbon copy of the preceding day. Having breakfast at this small cafe is the only stable point in Gavin's otherwise unstable life; eating here two days in a row is a new record for the Banjax.

The cafe was again filled with the same people as Gavin strolled down the warm sidewalk: the old man in the corner, and the three giggling high-school girls. Even that same brunette waitress is serving coffee to the few customers, though she no longer has that same skeletal façade that Gavin saw on her only a day ago.

Sitting down at a table near the mirrored wall, and window, Gavin pulls out a paper he held beneath his arm, and turns to the last page of the FrontPage sections. It has always been Gavin's experience that the last pages of a newspaper contain the real news; the rest is just a chocolate coating.

"Hello, I am Ellen, and I will be your server this morning. Can I start you off with some coffee or juice?" the brunette waitress says, laying a menu on the table.

"Coffee please," Gavin answers, without looking up from the paper. The woman writes something down on her order and walks off.

It seems that there's another killer loose in the city, Gavin figures from a new brief in the back of the paper. Three people have already disappeared, and the slain bodies of more than 20 were found somewhere downtown in the basement of some trashy motel. The strange part was that all them died by having their chests cracked open.

The woman walks back with a cup of coffee, and takes her order sheet back out.

"Do you need a few more seconds?" she asks in sweet voice.

"No. I'll have two eggs, over easy, hash browns, toast, and sausage. Oh, and no butter on the toast," Gavin replies, still reading the paper. He looks down at his watch for the first time that morning: 7:25. He has a few hours before the sleeping pills in Charlie's water would wear off. He still felt kind of bad for having to drug her, but she needed rest. Besides, he'll find out what was going on last night, and make sure that she stayed safe. And if she has to stay over at Gavin's flat for a few more nights, then he was more than aminable to that idea.

The rest of the paper was empty, full of tripe about sports or special interests. Being Wisconsin, it mostly had articles about the Packers.

"Here you go," Ellen says while putting down a plate loaded with food. "Would you like anything else right now? Some more coffee, jam, butter, or syrup?"

"No, thank you" Gavin answers, looking over the meal. The waitress walks away from the table, and into the kitchen.

It was really confusing to Gavin, why an immortal would want to torture a simple twilight. What was even more confusing was that one of the torturers wasn't immortal. Most immortals don't think of twilights as much more than a lower life form, which should be controlled and directed. Unfortunately for most immortals, they have forgotten why they entered Lethe in the first place.

A while ago, a cadre of immortals all invested in a set of cellular phones, and they soon became one of their most valuable tools. Most immortals neglect the mundane systems of communication, instead focussing on telepathic scanning and messages. He can remember a time when a member of the Regine stole one of those very phones: that day had really sucked.

He takes out a flip-phone, and quickly hits a speed dial.

"Yeah... I need to talk to Mr. Chow, and now. I don't care about what time it is there in Hong Kong, El, I just need to talk to Johnny, now make it happen or you are going to find out why this gwailo is feared by almost all of the Triads..." Gavin mutters in a very cold voice.

A few seconds pass, and a low, gruff visage comes across the phone.

"Mr. Monorth, this had better be important... I am in the middle of a meeting," Johnny Chow mutters into the phone, in Cantonese.

"I'm putting the shakedown on a small time gangster named Res," Gavin says in a muted dialect. "I should make a few million on this deal, and then I will clean him, and blame it on Mr. Leung."

A pause ensues for a short moment.

"Whatever Gavin, just don't let it come back to me, and I expect my 60%. Anything else you would like to discuss? How is the Rousseau job going?"

"I had to put that on hold... I ran into complications. Don't worry, it will be done before midnight."

"Very well. Have fun while you are in America... but not too much. Don't leave too many bodies behind you," the Triad boss tells the Perpetual, and then promptly hangs up the phone.

Gavin looks down at his watch again: 7:30. He sighs and grabs a large fork-full of hash browns, which he shovels into his mouth. They are a little undercooked, and over-buttered, but more than satisfactory to the Juggler. A cold wave of life washes over Gavin for a moment but is gone as quickly as it appeared. He's felt this chill before, but doesn't pay it much attention anymore.

Suddenly, a banging from the kitchen is heard throughout the restaurant, and a young man wearing an apron runs out. He grabs the phone and frantically starts to dial a number.

"Hello? Yeah, I've got a problem. There's a fire in the kitchen, and I think that Ellen's dead. She's dead..." the cook's voice stops registering with Gavin as he jumps up from his table.

He runs past the jabbering cook, who tries to stop him with a single arm, but fails. Gavin opens the silver door and looks into the smoky kitchen.

The fryers are on fire, and it looks like that some oil is dripping off one onto the floor. A grease trap has fallen over, spilling its contents all over the floor. In a few seconds, the grease would also catch on fire. A large shelf, covered in spilled foodstuffs, has fallen over on its side. Sticking out from beneath it is a leg.

Gavin perceives all of this within a few seconds, and jumps over the newly lighted grease, which covers the floor. He lands on a chopping board, a few feet from the shelf, and stands up. With one arm, he flings the large metal shelf off the woman, and throws her over his shoulder. After taking a deep, smoke-filled breath, Gavin jumps back over the flames and lands in the doorway. He sets the woman down, and rests her on a nearby table.

"Jesus Christ!" the cook yells, as he sees Gavin reappear in the door.

Ignoring the waiter, Gavin examines the woman. She has a large gash on her forehead and her neck is broken. One of the bones in her arm is sticking out of the skin, which is covered in white-hot grease.

Gavin mentally goes into his throat, his will activating the crystal vox there, and starts to coalesce the Aria around him. He doesn't care about the twilights standing around him, or how they would plague him if they found out that he was immortal; he is too intent on trying to save this one young woman from a useless death.

He looks into her dead eyes, as he is about to unleash his Serenade, but he is suddenly interrupted by an image that forms in his head.

He sees the cook motioning for her to get something off the top of the shelf. The cook curses as the fryers catch on fire, and knocks into the bucket that collects the grease from the fryers. He knocks over the shelf, and Ellen falls down. Gavin can see the shelf getting slowly closer. He can feel her head bump as she hits the large sink. He can feel her neck snap as she continues to fall to the ground. He can feel her bones break and tear as the shelf falls on top of her. And then he sees a woman, dressed in red, walk towards Ellen's motionless body. She reaches out her hand and...

Gavin shakes his head to clear the woman's dying thoughts from his head. He collapses in a chair, and idly wipes some grease from his coat. The giggling high-schoolers are no longer giggling and the cook is still yelling on the phone. The old man in the corner is jumping up and down frantically outside, and the dead waitress, Ellen, just lies there on the table.

Gavin looks over to the mirrored wall, and shakes his head. The graying around his temples has become much more prominent, and his skin has taken on a distinctly unpleasant pallor. In his eyes he can still see the red-cloaked maiden, reaching her hand out to him. Her face is always indistinct, yet so familiar. Gavin shakes his head, and rests it between his hands.

The sound of sirens getting closer awakens Gavin's less altruistic side. He can't be found here with this dead woman: not now. He told Jacquelyn that he was going to leave Milwaukee, and this seems like a better reason than most to leave.

"Have you ever had one of those days? You know the type. At first it seems like everything’s going your way. Like all the dominoes fell right in line for the game and then the ball drops and they scatter, forgotten. Someone started a new game and forgot to let you know. Yeah, you’ve been there."

"You can probably imagine how I felt at that moment: knee deep in dark seawater, half blinded by sand and sweat dripping in my eyes. But I was there, the struggle was all but over and victory was sweet on the tip of my tongue. Six days of running myself ragged all over hell’s half acre after the little shrew had finally paid off when I saw the look on her face. Pretty, but pitiful. And looking all the world like the half-drowned rat that she was, not a foot away from me crouched down in the surf. I watched the desperation in her eyes slowly drown in resignation when she realized that there was nowhere else to go. She was too wounded to swim, the waves beat at her back as I stood before her, waiting."

"Why I was waiting, hell, maybe Sandra was right. Maybe I had become too damn cocky, too callous. But I got the job done, clean, like always. I did my damn job. I splashed around a bit to clean the sand off and trudged up onto the beach. 3 AM and not a soul in sight. It just made things easier that way."

"Back in the car I had called Sandra to come down and meet me. I had blown into town maybe eight years ago and remembered a little diner not too far from where I was. I told her where and what to bring and knew she’d be along soon. The great thing about cadres, I thought, was that you could always depend on them. Sure enough she was there not an hour later with a clean change of clothes and enough cash to sponsor a well-deserved vacation. What a doll she was."

"But there was something else there. Maybe I’d have seen it if I was paying attention. Clear as crystal now I can see the apprehension in her eyes as we sat there drinking coffee. She had asked me how it went, hands maybe clenched a little too tightly around the mug. And I had told her all the details, smug and maybe a bit too full of myself, but I was damn proud. Why shouldn’t I be? I had taken out another would-be drove. What was there to question in my actions? Well, maybe if I’d have stopped to question my actions I would have seen what a dupe I’d been played for. Sandra was right, I had gotten too cocky."

"As I finished my story a silence grew between us as she stared down at her mug, turning it in her hands. Then she looked up at me with those big baby blues of hers and I knew that something was wrong. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Jack? Why didn’t you tell me about this one?’ Her voice was all choked up."

"’What, do I have to report in to you now?’ I probably shouldn’t have gotten defensive on her, but it was habit. I was used to explaining myself to Bernie and the others. It’s tough being stuck in a cadre of screwballs and do-gooders, at least I had a class act dame like her that I could count on."

"She just put aside her coffee and took my hand. Bad sign. I had seen her do that with Jilly a hundred times. It was the ‘you messed up good, kiddo’ signal. ‘You’ve got to get out of here.’ She whispered as best as she could through tight lips. ‘You’ve been played Jack.’ All I could do was look at her for a minute. What did she mean ‘played?’ My orders were legitimate, came down from on high. I told her this, but she just shook her head, looking at me as if I were more and more the pitiful fool with each moment."

"’You were set up, Jack. Think about how it got to you. The Emissary was no one you knew. With all the serenades out there it’s easy enough to pull off something like that. You were duped. Go. Get out of here. Find some way to clear your name, then come back and prove your innocence. Get out of here.’ She gave me a thin lipped smile to cover up the anxiety that I’m sure she felt and squeezed my hands tightly. ‘I’ll take care of things here for now.’"

"I stood, not knowing what else to do, grabbed my things and stumbled out to my car. All I could think of was that girl. Who was she really? Was she innocent? What had I done? I don’t know how far I’d driven before I’d realized what Sandra had done for me by staying there. Sweet Sandra, I don’t know what I’d do without her. Somehow I’d have to dig her out of the mess, too, now. And her higher ups over at Pride Nimrod weren’t the most forgiving chicks on the face of the planet."

"Now I had no cards to play with, no aces in the hole. Leaving behind Sandra seemed the worst thing that I could have done. I should have taken her with me, but I flailed. Darn. Somehow I’d have to get a hold of the rest of the screw-ups and let them know what was going on for their sakes."

"Calling Jilly was no problem, I could at least talk idiot-speak to her. Flower power and all that crap. Anyway, I gave her a ring, I think it was around 5 by that point and told her what was going on. Can you say panic? Yeah, Tautha girl flipped big time. Not a surprise to me. After she calmed down again I explained to her that I would be on my own for awhile, possibly Sandra, too. And that she’d have to hold down the fort for us. She blathered on for a bit more, but she sounded like she could handle it so I called Eddie. He at least coped. Made a few jokes about deep cover and wished me luck. Stupid hyena. My dread upon dread was calling Bernie. Did I tell you that I hate bugs?"

"Anyhow, he seemed to be in a good mood when I got a hold of him. Of course, how could I tell? The damn man barely registers life signs half the time. He took in what I said with a mild note of interest in his voice and a click of his tongue, said good bye and hung up. No frills or wasted niceties on that one, let me tell you."

"After that I headed south to my old roost in San Jose, a place that only the cadre really knew I still took up at. I settled down, checked through the bag Sandra had gotten together for me. That’s when I found the bug slipped in the braid of the gym bag she’d given to me. Damn, if they hadn’t all ready known somehow that she was turning on them. Poor gal."

"Not ten seconds later you kicked in my damn door, so what more can I tell you, chump? I was set up." Jack Laenstrom crossed his arms and glared at the gorilla that was blocking the doorway. "I don’t want my friends involved, okay? They’re just kids."

"Oh, they’re already involved, Laenstrom. You’re in deep, buddy." The gorilla shook his head. "I don’t know what I’d do if I was stuck with a scum ball like you."

"That’s enough," said an unseen voice, tinny and high pitched. "Bring the others in." The look on Laenstrom’s face fell as the rest of his cadre mates were ushered into the house, each wearing an almost expressionless face as they gathered in the living room, seemingly unmolested. "They’ve got nothing to do with this!" Jack shouted.

"No, we have everything to do with this." Sandra said stepping to his side. "You can leave now gentlemen." Jilly held the door for the brute squad as they exited the building, leaving Jack amidst a sea of frowns. "I can’t tell you how disappointed I am in you." The words were laced with ice as they came out of Sandra’s mouth. "I always knew that your opinion of us wasn’t high, but I never guessed how low it truly was."

"You set me up?" Jack sputtered the words.

"No, actually your Regent arranged all of this with us. You were warned again and again that you were getting out of hand so a test was arranged to try your loyalties and actions. I can’t say that I’m happy with the results. Two years together and you still doubt us? Still mock us? Still hold us in contempt when I can’t count how many times any one of us has come to your aid." Sandra sat across from him, a spiteful glint in her eyes. "We figured we could help you prove yourself, but all you’ve done is dig yourself in deeper. After all, if you can’t trust your cadre, who can you trust?"

"Exactly," said the tinny voice, "It’s obvious that there is much for you to learn. In the spirit of such you are to appear before Scourge Darlington this afternoon. I believe you’ve talked with him all ready.. Chump."

"Understand that this is not being done to punish you, for as of yet you have done nothing wrong. Your kill was sanctioned no wrong was done there. It is your approach and well being that both your cadre mates and I have expressed concern over. Your lessons are to aid you in the battles against the Dark Ones and temper you from faltering onto their path. May you mull this over this morning and it rest heavy on your soul." With that the tinny voice made it’s self visible by moving, showing it’s self to be the same shiny chrome spider that he knew to be in charge of San Jose. "May you rest well and return to us enlightened." The spider continued on its course under the doorway.

Sandra and company continued to frown. "How could you Jackie?" Jill looked half way ready to take his face off until Sandra's hand on her shoulder pulled her back, making her think twice about it. "Yes, Jack, how could you?" Sandra's eyes reflected the cold disdain of her words. "You'd think we done more then enough to prove ourselves to you."

"As a group we've managed to tackle many obstacles. As individuals we've rose through the ranks of our Prides slowly but surely with each other's support. Have you even bothered to notice, Jack, that most of those occurrences took place without you? Throughout it all you've insisted on walking alone, setting yourself apart from us 'screw-ups' so you wouldn't be soiled by our childishness, so we wouldn't tarnish your image. Look at where it's landed you, Jack. Look where it could."

As if on cue Jill let the bonds of the Cradle start shutting him out, setting him apart from the support net he had always known to be there. The intense silence and emptiness left grated on his brain, his conscience. At a loss for words he looked at their faces. Stout resolve met his gaze.

"Jack: Understand that the objective of this training lesson is to teach you the error of your ways, both within and outside of the cadre. If your actions continue to darken your soul we will cast you off before it carries over to us. We would undoubtedly be at a loss without you, but don't think that we wouldn't recover. It would be better to see your spiral cut off mid-fall then to see you slip into the lie and be forever changed because of it." Bernie fixed him with a critical eye. "I would hate to see you on the other end of the sword."

"I just can't believe you think we're such idiots, man! We've all fudged a bit in the past, but we made it up. Sandra had that messy affair and don't even mention Jill's taboo. Heck, Bernie got over his Arachne problem, could you stop being such a critical jerk? Messing up is half of learning, man. When are you gonna learn?" Eddie stormed out growling obscenities under his breath with Bernie hot on his heels.

Jill bit her lip and looked at Sandra. "I'm going to go talk to them, okay?" Sandra nodded and walked her to the door, whispering a few words through the Cradle to her as she left. With only the two of them there Jack finally slumped into the chair. "I've always respected you Sandra-"

"That's not enough. It hasn't been since the day we came together as a cadre. We may be young, we're ingenue for Pete's sake. Being the oldest doesn't always mean that you're the wisest, Jack. That's something you've never seemed to learn. Why do you think the Regents listen when we're barely a quarter of their experience? Because we have the new ideas, we're making the new ways. It might be the key to what happened so long ago, it might be simply ingenuity, but whatever it is they listen why can't you?" Sandra's expression softened a bit as her eyes grew misty with frustration. "Whatever road you choose Jack, good luck." She stood up, smoothed out her skirt and walked out the door. "Hopefully we'll meet on a better note next time." She left, leaving Jack to drown in his thoughts alone.