Title: Conundrum Author: Chad Moore E-Mail: Chad_Skywalker@webtv.net Feedback: Always welcome Date: September 15th, 2001 Archive: Yes, please Status: WIP Rating: PG13 (for language and mild violence) Series/Sequel: The sequel to "Dangerous Undercurrents". Category: M/O Fandom: XF Spoilers: Set after "Existence". Disclaimers: All familiar characters belong to CC, 1013 and Fox TV; any others were conceived in my warped imagination. Azathoth and the Great Old Ones are creations of HP Lovecraft, and are now the property of Arkham House. No infringement intended. Special beta thanks: Bertina Chapter Thirteen: Birthright Matthew Blair watched Jamie being taken from the operating area. He looked at the motionless body and the sleeping face as the trolley passed by. "You are to be congratulated, Professor," Blair smiled. "I want you to prepare for the procedure immediately." Bowman was startled. "So soon?" "The sooner the better." Bowman was taken aback. "This is most unusual." "It's an unusual experiment," agreed Blair. "But Mr. Blair suppose something should go wrong? We've never attempted anything like this before." Blair simply ignored the professor's concerns. "Contact me as soon as you're ready." Bowman was about to protest further, but the look on Blair's face stopped him. A blue uniformed security guard took charge of the trolley. "Take him to the guest apartment," Blair told him. With one final look at the research facility the President and CEO of Avatar hurried away after the trolley. Dr. Lennoxx was over-awed. "He's going to take..." Bowman cut him short. "It's not for you to question. Keep silent about this." Lennoxx nodded. "Of course." "Get everything ready." * * * * * "Mulder's back," announced Langly, looking up from the black and white monitor. "And he's brought a party," Frohike observed. This came as a surprise to the intrepid threesome, especially after the abruptly ended telephone conversation with Mulder. After all their research, they were anxious to know what conspiracy Mulder had stumbled onto this time. "Mulder, are you ok?" asked a concerned Byers as soon as he was through the door. He was closely followed by Dana and Walter. "Yeah. I'm ok. What do we know?" He sat the naga box on a table and the Lone Gunmen's eyes lit up in fascination. Dana noted they were practically salivating over the artifact. "Is this what I think it is?" whispered Langly, whose voice practially trembled in awe. Mulder nodded. "The genuine article." Frohike reached out to touch the box, but both Langly and Byers slapped his hands away. John walked over to a computer to power it up, explaining along the way. "At first we didn't think you had anything to worry about. Azathoth is supposed to be the weakest of the Great Old Ones." "The weakest?" Walter repeated, finding that hard to believe after what he'd witnessed. Frohike studied Mulder, Scully and Skinner standing and waiting for answers. He'd never admit it, but he felt a ticklish warmth -- like a royal command performance. He nudged Skinner's burly arm. "A bit like old times, eh Skinman?" "Something must've changed your minds," commented Mulder. Frohike nodded enthusiastically. "You're right, Mulder. We've been doing some checking into Avatar." Scully sniffed. "Hacking, you mean?" "What is so special about Avatar?" Walter asked, curiously. "Why take them back there?" "Get ready for this!" Frohike exclaimed. He turned Byers' computer screen round to face them. "That's what we wanted to tell you, Mulder," added Langly. "The inscriptions you brought us were geographical coordinates for a spiritual nexus," Byers finished. This hit Mulder hard, and it was like slamming into a brick wall in the dark. The final pieces were coming together and his deductive reasoning began to work over-time. "A what?" asked Skinner, peering at a schematic blazing from the screen. "A focal point for enormous forces," Dana answered, much to the amazement of everyone present. Walter arched a dubious eyebrow. "Really?" "Wow," Melvin breathed at Scully. "I didn't know you'd go in for metaphysical mythology." She tried to stifle a smile. "I did a lot of reading while I was expecting," she replied. "Equal distance from the five spiritual elements." "That's right," Mulder said, clearly impressed. "Earth, fire, water, wood and metal." Together, the group stared at the map of San Francisco and the spot near the bay where Avatar was built. With Langly replacing John at the keyboard, he started to type and five dots appeared on the map. "Hang on to your socks," he told them. Clicking the mouse, a series of lines started to appear. "What are those?" Walter asked, pointing. Byers took the cue. "Ley lines, the locus of spiritual magic. They draw on the power of the earth itself." The group continued to watch in silence as the dots joined together to form a star. "Avatar was built in the centre of a pentagram." "That's why Azathoth is so dangerous. His followers will channel and use the power, turning it into an overwhelming destructive force," said Langly, grimly. The severity of it all was finally sinking in with Scully. "How will all this take place?" Frohike snorted. "Ringo here nearly creamed his jeans when he translated that bit." "Melvin, shut your hole," Langly shot back, then addressed said. "There's a ritual text called The Becoming. According to legend, if Azathoth's full power is released, it will awaken unspeakable evil and the Old Ones will reclaim the Earth." "You see," continued Byers, "Avatar has thirteen members on its board of directors." Dana sighed, trying to understand. "Fascinating, but does it help us?" Reaching over, Frohike typed on the keyboard and new window opened. "Look who's name just happened to come up." The screen read: ALEXEI KRYCEK Walter rolled his eyes. "Krycek was a member of their cult." Dana felt her mouth drop open. "Oh my god! Are you saying the entire board is a cult?" "You got it!" Frohike exclaimed. "Give the little lady a prize! You see, they're creating a gestalt!" Seeing the incredulous expressions, once again, the Lone Gunmen were more than happy to fill in the blanks. "A gestalt is a sort of group creature," said Byers. "It's made up of twelve separate parts, plus the core," added Langly. "When they come together they form a new and much more powerful being." Walter turned to Mulder, who had been uncharacteristically silent during all this. "Like the monster you killed at the cabin?" he suggested. "What monster?" Langly asked, excitedly. Melvin shook his head. "Man, this is getting weird." "Now it's getting weird?" Dana scoffed. "Where have you been?" Mulder sighed in frustration. "What will happen to the Chosen One after the ceremony?" he impatiently pressed, bringing them all back on subject. "Well, he's cosmically screwed," Frohike answered, moving by them and deliberately brushing against Scully in the process. "That was real subtle, doofus" commented Langly. Mulder tapped his watch. "Guys, clock's a tickin'!" Taking the lead Byers turned the heavy Necronomicon around and indicated a specific page. "Here's a representation of what a Chosen One is supposed to become once the sacrifical ceremony is complete." Astonished eyes stared at the incomprehensible horror. "My god, what is that?" Dana whispered. "If Mulder's right, the end of the world," Skinner replied. Mulder felt his stomach twist. "That's what Jamie..." his whispered voice trailed off. The Lone Gunmen exchanged curious glances. "Who's Jamie?" they wondered in unison. Avoiding awkward questions, Skinner asked, "Why hasn't he changed completely?" Mulder tore his eyes away from the grotesque image. "Back in 1983 the sacrificial ceremony was never completed. Plus, he's got a very strong personality and there's still quite a lot of it left." Langly leaned on the table with one arm. "If this Jamie is the Chosen One he must be one hell of a fighter to hold back those forces." "He is," Mulder whispered to himself, remembering the feisty Southerner he'd fallen in love with eighteen years ago. "So how do we stop it?" he asked, loud and clear, eager to get to a solution. Byers ran a finger down the latin text beneath the picture. "According to this it's possible for The Becoming to be stopped if..." "If what?" "The Old One will only be banished once its essence no longer has a host... and the only way for that to happen is to kill the Chosen One." Mulder was visibly dismayed. He'd set his heart on another solution. This is what he'd been hearing from day one. "Mulder," Scully gasped. "I don't want to hear it," he replied, quickly changing the subject. "We stop them before they start their ceremony." He turned to the Lone Gunmen. "Jamie still has a couple of hours, right?" "If they've started this ceremony..." "They won't start it without the box and Jamie doesn't have much time left." Grabbing the naga box, Mulder saw the slightly disappointed loks on Langly, Byers and Frohike's faces that he was taking it. "Guys, thanks for everything. But we'd better leave right away." After Mulder bustled Dana and Walter out of the door, Frohike picked up the Necronomicon. "Hey, at least he let us keep this as a consolation gift." "Yeah, we can publish some of the stories in our next issue," Langly agreed, warming to the idea. Outside, Mulder's long legs were hurrying toward Scully's car. "Walter, can you get us on the next flight for San Francisco?" he asked, getting inside. "What are we going to do?" Dana asked, not the least bit surprised. "Stop the ceremony," he told her, already fastening his seat belt. "I only hope we're not too late." There was a second or two of silence and then recognition. "Avatar?" questioned Walter. "Yes," he nodded. 'Where it all begins and ends,' he thought grimly. "How are we going to do that?" Walter said, skeptically. "Are you going to waltz right up and hand them the box?" "We don't even know how to fight it," Dana reminded him. There were times when she really had to take care of Mulder. "We won't be able to walk right out again, will we?" "I know," Mulder said quietly. Sensing a double-meaning behind two little words, Dana had the nagging feeling Mulder was keeping something from them. Before she could voice her concerns, Skinner turned the ignition. "Where to first?" Walter asked, eyeing Mulder in the rearview mirror. "Well, we're going to need some supplies," Mulder told them. "Way ahead of you. Do we have time?" "If we hurry." * * * * * Pounding on the sturdy door for what seemed like the hundredth time, Alex Krycek puffed out his cheeks in frustration. His throat was hoarse from shouting. It would take more than a couple of fists to knock down this barrier. The minute he'd woken and shook off the effects of the drugs, he knew exactly where he was: Avatar. Or some kind of tiny apartment to be precise, complete with bed and bathroom. He sprang into action when the door finally opened. Two guards in royal blue uniforms and brandishing nasty looking semi-automatics pushed him against a wall. Matthew Blair slithered in behind them. "What do you want?" Alex spat, struggling against them. "I've brought you a guest," Blair smiled. With a wave of his hand another guard strode into the room, pushing a trolley bearing an unconscious Jamie. "I thought it appropriate that you look after him while we prepare for the ceremony." At a nod from Blair, the guard carefully transferred Jamie down onto the empty bed. Blair waved the man away. "Good. Return to your position." Alex instantly took in a bandage wrapped around Jamie's right bicep. "What did you do to him?" he demanded. Blair leaned in close and whispered silkily. "Just one small step toward my becoming." He reached out to stroke Alex's hair. "You still have a chance. I offer you the world." Alex was aware that this twisted being was making some kind of declaration of love. Another time, another Alex would have gone along just for a chance to escape. Instead, he felt a wild surge of anger. He spat in the loathsome man's face and lashed out, catching one of the burly guards on the chin. Alex cried out in pain as a rifle butt savagely connected with his stomach. Gasping and crumpling to the floor, he held his waist in agony. "Go to hell!" he hissed. Pausing in the doorway, Blair regarded him for a moment. There was a hideous glee in his voice. "Hell won't have me," he said, before turning and leaving. * * * * * While Scully made arrangements for William, Mulder went back with Skinner to his apartment. Like his own front door, Walter's was torn off the hinges. Mulder didn't even pause as he stepped over the threshold. His heart beat 90 miles per minute at the task that lay ahead. He made a beeline for the kitchen where he found a container of salt. Walter looked up from his address book. "Do you think we'll really need that?" he asked. "You never know," replied Mulder, mysteriously. Walter found the number he needed. Just as he was about to dial, Mulder smiled across at him. "Walter, thanks. You've been like a rock since this all started." Genuinely touched, Walter Skinner was at a loss for words. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Mulder, do you care to enlighten me on what you've got planned?" Mulder gave him a blank, innocent look. "I'm just working this out as we go. There really is no plan." Walter thought this was the funniest joke he'd heard all week. With Mulder there was always a plan. Eventually he'd let them in on it. Watching his friend shake his head as he headed out of the kitchen, Mulder followed him out into the living room. He listened as Walter contacted a friend at the Bureau. He paced the room nervously, stopping before a glass cabinet filled with weapons. Mulder didn't realize Skinner was such an avid collector. There were medals and photographs of Walter from his service days, along with different types of guns and even a dagger. Skinner clicked off the phone. "It's all set," he announced, startling Mulder from his thoughts. "Great," Mulder smiled. Walter made his way upstairs to find a duffel bag, and collect his revolver. He had no idea what danger awaited them at Avatar and he wasn't about to take any chances of Mulder or Scully being caught in a crossfire. Returning downstairs, he found Mulder anxiously waiting. Handing him the bag, Mulder stuffed the salt inside and with haste they left. Everything was just as it was when they arrived. All except the cabinet, the door of which was now slightly ajar. * * * * * Everything was prepared. Professor Bowman closed and locked the main doors, then headed further into the laboratory facility. He and Dr. Lennoxx had succeeded in isolating the rare genetic imprint from the tissue sample. Now the real test laid ahead: combining it with Matthew Blair's own DNA. He hurried to join Blair and Lennoxx who were already waiting in the medical room. "I have dismissed all the assistants," he announced. "Good," Matthew nodded. "It is important that we keep this a secret." He turned and regarded Dr. Lennoxx who was preparing a hypodermic. "How long will this take?" he asked, impatiently. "Not long," the doctor replied. "It will require only two operations, the first for the genetic implant and then a second to stabilize your body." Blair's eyes glazed over. "Excellent," he said. A short while later Blair was lying on an operating table, connected to a humming piece of medical machinery. Shining flexible lines coiling out of the machine were connected to his forehead, chest and arms. Bowman and Lennoxx made precise adjustments after the genetic tissue transfer, keeping a careful eye on the readings. The doctor mopped his brow. Never had he been so nervous about an operation, but it had gone without a hitch. Reviving, Blair's body first stiffened as the genetic force flowed into him. Checking his condition, Bowman exhaled a triumphant sigh. There were no rejection symptoms. The operation was a complete success! * * * * * Dana watched the cotton candy clouds pass by the darkened heights of the window. Beside her Walter had actually fallen asleep. Thanks to his FBI contacts they'd managed to catch this flight to San Francisco. Before boarding, he'd insisted on "thinking of a plan that works to our advantage." Now he was lightly snoring. Once on the plane, Scully began to have second thoughts about the "rescue mission" as Skinner called it. She'd grudingly come to accept Jamie's possession, and the threat posed by Avatar. It didn't surprise her mother when she left William with her to accompany Mulder, and in all honesty, following Mulder had become second nature. Unexpectedly her heart felt pinched in love and concern for him. Their friendship had blossomed into a brother-sister bond. She admired his stubborn determination, and at the same time she was exasperated by it. Something was bothering her about Mulder. He was deeply in love with Jamie... and she hoped that he wasn't setting himself up for a fall or worse. Across the aisle, Mulder was reclined in his seat, his thoughts focused on what he had to do. He gave Scully a reasurring smile. He felt guilty involving her in this, but he needed her help desperately. Biting his lip, Mulder listened to the roar of the plane engine. There was only a slight chance this would work. To repair his broken promise to Jamie, anything was worth the risk. He just had to hold fast until this was all over. Which would be soon. The naga box rested inside the duffel bag, and the unearthly whispering had grown louder. Mulder suddenly knew exactly how Frodo Baggins must've felt with the ring; he couldn't keep it, he couldn't throw it away, he couldn't hide it -- there was no other way than to take it to hell. A chill surged through him. Only one thing was certain in his mind. He was going to find Jamie again, and free him from the evil within. He squinted through the window as San Francisco appeared through the clouds. * * * * * Sitting on the floor of the cell, Alex gently massaged his aching ribs. The rifle blow had caused the wound he'd sustained earlier at Skinner's apartment to bleed again. Using the sink, Alex soaked a cloth and kept it pressed against the wound. He'd lost track of time but kept a watchful eye on Jamie's sleeping form. A part of Krycek wanted to wake him up to learn what had happened, but the other was afraid that it would not be Jamie but Azathoth. "Mulder," a weak little voice called out. Jamie came suddenly back to consciousness. He blearily looked around, struggling to take in his surroundings. "What's happening?" he muttered. "Where am I?" "Hey, are you alright?" Alex moved closer to the bed. 'Fat chance the way I feel,' Jamie thought darkly. He felt sick and dizzy and his body was racked with shooting pains. He tried to sit up, but was overcome by a violent cough. Alex turned away. He poured a glass of water from the nearby sink, then went back to Jamie. "Drink this," he instructed. The exhausted Jamie slumped forward, almost falling. Because of his weakened condition Alex had to help prop Jamie up. He sipped gratefully from the glass and soon the cough vanished. "Thanks." His eyes widened at the crimson scar visible through Alex's open shirt. "Are you ok?" Alex shrugged. "I've been through worse." "What happened?" "I threw the first punch." Despite their situation, Jamie smiled. "I knew I liked you." He cast his eyes about the room. "Why have they left us here?" "To torture us before they kill us," Alex replied with a hint of dark humor. Wincing, Jamie held his arm tightly against his chest. "I think they've taken care of the torture part," he said through clenched teeth. "Let me see that." Carefully, Alex pulled back the bandage. Jamie noted the look in his eyes. "It's bad isn't it?" Alex replaced the bandage and with his best poker face said, "No, it's fine." Why the hell had Blair taken a tissue sample from Jamie? Fuck no, he wouldn't! Jamie began to cough again. His entire body trembling. Holding his mouth Jamie stared down at the blood on his hands, and shivered. Without a word, Alex handed him him the wet cloth. "I'm so sorry," whispered Jamie. "For what?" "All those months," his voice trailed away. The thought of how Azathoth used Alex like a puppet sickened him. "I'm sorry." Alex shook his head. "I know what it's like to be taken over by something you can't control." Alex hung his head and snickered at a private joke. Jamie eyed him curiously. "What is it?" "Mulder. I bet when he woke up he blamed this all on me!" With a sad, faraway look in his eyes, Jamie wondered aloud, "Do you think he's really ok?" Alex rubbed his chin. "We'd all be dead right now if Avatar had that box. That's why they took you, so Mulder would deliver it." "That's what that man said." He shuddered, remembering the crazed face bearing down on him in the laboratory. "He's mad," said Jamie despairingly. "Completely mad!" Alex nodded. "He's been insane for years if you ask me." "Alex, what is he planning to do?" "I think I know and if I'm right we've got to get out of here fast!" "Let's not waste time talking about it -- let's just do it." Alex turned, surprised. He realized in that moment that this was the real Jamie, not a body controlled and possessed by an alien entity. By all intents and purposes he should be dead, but here he was still fighting. "That's the spirit!" "What do you want me to do?" Alex smiled, then examined a length of pipe running alone the wall. He looked back to find Jamie, pale and weak, but looking at him expectantly. "Help me wrench this pipe away from the wall." * * * * * Gordon Stratton knocked at the heavy doors of Blair's office and a voice called "Come in." Matthew was standing before a mirror, his frame covered in an opulent velvet gown, its edges bordered in gold. "Oh, hello Gordon," he said, looking up. "Is everyone ready?" Gordon nodded. "They're assembling now." Pleased, Blair fingered the material of the gown. "It's for the ceremony. What do you think?" Gordon immediately froze. There was something different about Matthew's features. They appeared softer, there were even a few strands of blonde running through his normally dark hair. Somehow he finally found his voice. "It's perfect, exactly in accordance with the Old Times." Then he ventured hesitantly, "Are you all right?" Blair frowned. "What's all this fuss? Of course I'm all right!" He carefully pulled off the gown and Gordon's breath caught in his throat when Matthew turned his back. Emblazoned between his shoulderblades was the symbol of the naga, a serpent eating its own tail. "The Mark of Azathoth," he said quietly. The secret experiments in the facility all became clear in that instant. Matthew must have combined the Chosen One's genetic imprint with his own cells... so that he himself could host Azathoth. "Have you gone mad?" Gordon demanded, angrily. Blair simply laughed. "I assure you I'm not at all mad. This is my birthright!" "Are you hoping to seize power for yourself? Is that the plan?" "I shall put myself among the gods!" * * * * * After working hard to free the pipe, Alex stood back and looked at the result. His escape scheme was simple and unbelievably dangerous. The pipe hung by the door, gas hissing. Hauling the mattress off the bed, it now served as a makeshift shield. Turning down the lights, Alex soaked a blanket in the basin. His alert emerald eyes turned to Jamie who now sat propped up against the bunk. Jamie had been holding Azathoth at bay by sheer will power, refusing to give in. However, his failing body was paying the price. While he weakly helped Alex with the pipe, periodically Jamie found himself racked by spasms of coughing, cramping and struggling furiously against recurring waves of dizziness. Wearily Jamie rubbed his hands over his eyes, trying desperately to keep control on his mind. Too exhausted to even move, he could feel the evil presence creeping up, trying to take command. He gloomily wondered how long it would be before Azathoth came back. The second his soul died, Azathoth would take over. His chest constricted and Jamie gasped for breath. Hugging his knees, he hid his face when Alex returned with the sodden blanket. He noticed the tears running down his face. "I've always hated dark rooms," Jamie confided, his breathing shallow. "Filled with things you can't see. Shadows, undercurrents." "Don't worry," Alex told him, wrapping the blanket around them. "There isn't a cell that can hold me. Not too long ago I used a Molotov cocktail to break out of..." But Jamie was only half-listening. Silently, he took in the irony of it all. Eighteen years ago he sat in a cell waiting to be sacrificed... Now history was repeating itself. He couldn't understand why this kept happening. "I bet someone is getting a great, big laugh out of this," he interrupted, his feelings overflowing. "I had a nice, normal life once, but it, my family and Mulder were all taken away from me. I used to think that love conquered all. I never meant for this..." "Don't blame yourself. You have every right to be pissed." Alex realized how useless his words sounded. He'd never been any good at comforting anyone. Alex crouched beside him, stroking Jamie's burning forehead. "It's not over yet." Jamie leaned against the mattress, shaking and trembling. "I know I sure could use a happy ending," he whispered. "Listen, if I know Mulder," he paused, not believeing what he was saying. "And despite what he thinks, I do. He's going to find a way to help you." Jamie shuddered at what Mulder would be walking into... all because of him. "I think someone's coming," he whispered. "You know what to do," Alex reminded him, fishing inside his jacket. "Cover your head and ears," he continued, striking a match. "There's going to be a very loud boom!" Footsteps were outside the door now. Jamie watched the flickering yellow flame in Alex's hand fly through the air. Just as the door was flung open, it hit the pipe. The room shook under the incredibly loud explosion and the entire door disappeared in a wave of flame. Thick smoke filled the room, and when it finally cleared, the security guards lay stunned on the floor. "Come on!" shouted Alex, quickly lifting Jamie to his feet. Without letting go of him, Alex dashed out into the corridor. "That was quite a boom!" coughed Jamie. Alex smirked. "Any boom you can walk away from is a good one!" His keen eyes searched the many intersections running off from the hall. "Which way?" Through streaming eyes Jamie looked at the unfamiliar layout of the building. He shivered. "I don't know," he admitted. "All these corridors look the same to me." Jamie's legs suddenly buckled. With a single-minded purpose, Alex lifted the unconscious Jamie in his arms, then picked a hall at random, and carried him away. * * * * * Matthew Blair had been prepared for this moment. He'd always known Gordon would not understand. "My father's vision was limited," he said, imploringly. "Now I shall fulfill his dream. It is ordained that I should be the instrument to Azathoth's Becoming." He raised his arms heavenwards in a ritual gesture. "Have faith, brother! You have seen the sign of Azathoth." Gordon nodded obediently. "As it is written in the prophecies." "Then spread the word to the sacred temple," Blair incanted. The pair were literally shaken off their feet as a loud krump reverberated through the building. "What the hell was that?!" Gordon shrieked. Matthew Blair whirled around, anger radiating from his eyes. "We must not be defiled by unbelievers in the last hour. Go! Hurry!" He pointed commandingly to the door. Gordon bowed low and left without another word. * * * * * Time had been on their side. Mulder, Scully and Skinner stood outside the Avatar research facility. Dana was slightly awestruck by the huge concrete and glass modern set of buildings, connected to each other by upper story tubular walkways. "Big, isn't it," Walter said, as if reading her mind. High above the sky had taken on a peculiar shade of amber as the sun disappeared. A cool breeze whipped up and ruffled Mulder's hair. He exhaled slowly then, hefting the green duffel bag, carried on ahead. Both Walter and Dana were forced to jog to keep up. Passing through the main doors, they stood in a deserted reception area. "Where is everyone?" asked Walter, his voice echoing off the walls. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Scully shook her red head in agreement. "I don't like it, not one little bit." "Come on," Mulder protested. "I thought I was supposed to be the paranoid one." "I always get paranoid in empty buildings," Dana murmured under her breath. "The ceremony must have started," Walter guessed. Mulder made his way toward a stairwell. "Just as long as it hasn't finished." * * * * * With the urgency of the phantom carrying Christine to his underground lair, Alex hurried through the building, desperate to avoid the guards and reach the outside. Jamie was barely breathing now and Alex had no idea what he was going to do. This section seemed familiar. He found himself in one of the glass corridors that linked the buildings. Shifting Jamie's weight in his arms, Alex rounded a corner confident that they would be out of the building in moments. "Halt!" a deep voice ordered. Standing before a door were two security guards, with instructions to shoot on sight. One lifted his gun to fire. Holding tight to Jamie, Alex kicked it from his hand. With a roar, the other guard leapt, bearing both Jamie and Alex to the ground. A shot rang out... [Next Episode: Apocalypse, Not!]