Snake Eyes

by Artemis9

When Jesse sticks his nose into a murder investigation, he gets into serious trouble. Not quite new for him, but this time - he's one of the bad guys.

Snake Eyes



„Stay in cover!"

Jesse ducked behind a crate, hardly quick enough to dodge a bullet. "Phew, that was close", he breathed.

"Yeah, too close. Next time I tell you to stay in cover, you do as I say." Steve gave him an angry glance, cowering behind a pile of wooden boards. "Now let's try and encircle those guys."

"And what about staying in cover? Steve, we're only two, and I'm running out of ammo."

"Yeah, so what? We're fighting only two others, and if you're good, one shot will do. Okay, you take the left - the barrels over there should offer enough cover to get behind O'Malley. Ready? Go!" Steve ran a few steps and dived behind an old car standing a few yards away. Projectiles cut the air around him, but none of them hit him. He peered over the edge of the hood to see how Jesse was doing.

Jesse had followed Steve's advice and crouched behind the barrels, breathing heavily as he prepared to spurt behind O'Malley, whom he suspected behind a column quite in the centre of the warehouse. He slowly stood up and then darted towards the column, his gun in firing position. Nobody was standing there.

"Oh shit!" Quickly, Jesse circled the concrete pile. O'Malley was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, somebody cleared his throat behind him.

"Hey, Travis", he heard a deep voice.

With a moan of frustration, he slowly turned around and looked into the muzzle of the gun O'Malley was pointing at him. The man behind the rifle showed a broad grin. "You're dead", he said and pulled the trigger.

Jesse winced as the projectile hit him right in the chest, and a big red stain spread on his t-shirt. He dropped to the ground and heard O'Malley shout, "hey Sloan, I got your friend. Now it's two against one, do you want to give up?"

"I don't think so", sounded Steve's voice from behind, and when O'Malley turned around, he already knew he had lost. "This one's for Jesse", Steve said and fired at the man. O'Malley sank to the concrete beside Jesse. "Jones!" called Steve. "Hey, come out. It's getting late. Let's just call it even and continue tomorrow, okay?"

A tall man stepped out of his cover behind a barrel. "Okay, Sloan, but O'Malley had the first hit, this means lunch is on you tomorrow."

Steve took his goggles off and wiped some sweat from his forehead. "You bet that we'll bust you next time."

O'Malley got to his feet and then helped Jesse stand up. "If Jess keeps on learning that fast, you might be right."

"Yeah, and if he learns to stay in cover." Steve shook his head.

"Hey, I did", Jesse defended himself. You told me to attack Fred, so it's basically your fault. And you can hardly see the mark, it would only be a flesh wound." He ran his hand over the big spot of red colour that covered the front of his shirt.

"Oh yeah? And what about this?" Steve raised his gun and placed a shot right on Jesse's forehead. The plastic ball exploded on his skin and soaked his hair with paint that dripped down his face. "Another flesh wound?"

Jones and O'Malley burst into laughter. "I thought you were in the same team", Jones grinned.

"That's what I thought, too", Jesse said sulkily.

Steve conciliatorily laid a hand on his shoulder. "That was your lesson for today. Don't worry, you're doing well. So, how do you like this little crash course?"

Jesse used the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe the red colour from his face. "Very cool", he replied. "So you really practice here?"

"Let's say it's the fun part of the training", answered O'Malley. "In this warehouse, we train our reflexes and the behaviour in a shooting like this. Of course, we also have courses in avoiding violent situations, but we thought you'd like to have some action in your weekend course."

"And you were absolutely right", Jesse beamed. "So what are we doing next?"

"We are going back to work", Steve said. "If you're not interested in watching bored cops doing desk work, I suggest you drive home and join us for a little martial arts lesson tomorrow morning at 8."

"I'll be there. Thanks guys!" Jesse handed O'Malley his goggles and gun and walked out on the street where he had parked his car. What a nice idea of Steve to give him a crash course in police training for his birthday! Okay, his birthday wasn't until next Friday, but this weekend had been the only one on which Jesse's visit had fit into the schedule.

It was a real pity that they couldn't take him on patrol or anything else, but the training was exciting enough. Today, Steve had taken him to the shooting range where he had learned to handle several pistols and rifles, and then he had asked O'Malley and Jones, who often worked as trainers for the younger officers, to join them in the "Gotcha" warehouse.

Steve had promised Jesse that they'd also attend a briefing for the patrol officers after the martial arts training, although he insisted that this would be the most boring part. Nevertheless, Jesse was looking forward to the Sunday - the schedule looked great so far.

* * *

Mark sadly shook his head as he regarded the corpse on the autopsy table. "It's awful what drugs can do to young people", he said.

"Yes", Amanda replied. "I received the dental record only a few minutes ago. This is Patricia Thornton, resident in San Francisco at her parent's place - until she vanished four months ago."

"Another runaway who met the wrong people", Mark sighed.

"And she was only 17 years old", Amanda added.

"Where exactly did they find her?" Mark wanted to know.

"XXX Street, the worst place in LA." Amanda gently pulled the sheet over the girl's face as if she was covering a child with a blanket. Then she looked at Mark. "She was murdered", she said.

"What do you say? Didn't she give herself the shot?"

Amanda fiercely shook her head no. "I found fresh bruises on her wrists, and although her arms were scarred with injection marks, the only fresh one was on her neck."

Mark pensively gazed at the slab. "Why would anyone do this?" He straightened his shoulders and turned towards the door. "Amanda, I'll call Steve. As this is a drug-related murder, homicide and narcotics will probably cooperate on this case. I want to find out who did that to this girl and why."

"We will find out", Amanda encouraged him. "You'll see."

* * *

"Good morning", Steve greeted Jesse. "You certainly heard about the young girl who was murdered yesterday."

"Yes, Patricia Thornton, I believe. Mark told me about her - you're working on that case?"

"Yeah, and we have a briefing in ten minutes. I'm sorry, but I'll have to leave you in the capable hands of O'Malley again. Enjoy your training!"

"Oh Steve, can't I come to the briefing with you? That'd definitely be more interesting than the fight training."

"Maybe, but I'm not sure what Captain Newman would say if I brought civilians to the meeting. This is an official investigation, and unless I miss my guess, Dad will tell you everything anyway. So now go and let the guys give you a lesson."

"Okay." Jesse shrugged and trotted over to the gym room while Steve went upstairs to attend the briefing in which officers from both the homicide and narcotics division participated.

* * *

O'Malley grinned when he saw Jesse coming inside. "Morning", he greeted him and then turned to his colleagues. "Hey folks", he called, "may I have your highly appreciated attention for a minute, please? This is Dr. Jesse Travis, ER surgeon at the Community General. Some of you might already have met him before. Keaton, Epstein, you know who I mean."

Two young men nodded at Jesse, who recognized them as frequent guests in the Emergency Room.

"The doc will train with us today. He doesn't have much experience in this field, so go easy on him."

"Don't worry", Epstein grinned and flexed his fingers. "He taught me how to put a dislocated shoulder back into place. Can't wait to try it."

Jesse uncomfortably looked at the twelve young men, all of them at least four inches taller than he was.

"Leave your shoes at the edge of the mat", O'Malley told him. "I see you're wearing your shorts a bit baggy, that's good. You must be able to move. What we're doing here is called Wing Tsun - a very effective kind of self- defence."

"Is it anything like Karate or Kung Fu?" Jesse wanted to know.

"Not really", O'Malley replied. "It does use similar principles, though, such as using the opponent's strength against him. The movements are kind of floating - you may have seen somebody practicing Tai Chi before. Wing Tsun is more powerful and very fast, but it is one of the least dangerous forms of martial arts. It belongs to the exam a master has to pass to overwhelm an armed and raging aggressor without hurting him. But let's just show you something. Ramirez, Foster, on the mat. Free fight. Go!"

Two of the officers stepped on the mat and bowed in front of O'Malley and then each other. They slowly circled each other, barely lifting their feet from the mat. Then Ramirez lunged and tried to force Foster to the ground. Foster made a quick step backwards and turned on his heel while easily holding Ramirez by his upper arms. Ramirez immediately found his balance back, and for a few seconds, the two men wrestled in a way that almost looked like a quick dance practiced with both hands and feet. Jesse watched in awe as their hands showed complicated figures while each of the men stepped back and forth, using their legs as well to attack their opponent. Then suddenly, Ramirez leaned forward, and in a movement that was too quick for the eye to follow, he made Foster fall on the mat and forced him into a tight grasp, which held him down.

The other officers applauded, and O'Malley gave an approving nod. "Well done, men."

Ramirez helped Foster up, and again, they bowed in front of each other and O'Malley.

O'Malley motioned Ramirez to come over. "Would you like to practice with our guest?" he asked.

Ramirez nodded. "Sure." He shook hands with Jesse, and O'Malley sent them onto the mat with the others.

"Okay", Ramirez said. "Of course we won't do anything like you've just seen - we'll start with the basics. Stand relaxed, your feet forming a 60-degree angle, the big toes about two inches from each other. Yes, bend your knees slightly, but not too much. Now cross your arms in front of your chest, palms flat, the left arm on the inside. Great. Now follow my movements." He straightened his crossed arms until his hands pointed to the floor, and with the hands pointing inwards, he lifted them back to his chest. Next, he rested his bent arms at the sides of his body, the hands forming fists. "You're doing good, but don't clench your fists like this. You're not going to beat anybody, this is a meditative stretching figure. Yes, that's a lot better." He straightened his right arm and released the fist. Pressing his thumb against his index finger, he slowly turned his hand in a motion that was difficult to copy for Jesse.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

Ramirez smiled. "You needn't bend your hand like this. Just do it as far as you can. This is supposed to stretch the sinews and muscles in your arms and warm your shoulder muscles up, to prepare you for the fast movements you'll do later on in this lesson. Okay, now draw your right arm back, rest it at your side and do the same with your left arm." Jesse followed the instructions. "Good, and now from the beginning - cross your arms, now down and back up, arms to your sides, right arm, left arm, and cross them. Good. This should give you an image of how the other exercises will look. Do this for a while so that you remember the movements. You will do this exercise any time you don't have anything else to do."

Jesse practiced for a few minutes, until he got bored and jealously watched the others. Ramirez noticed his look and went over to him. "Seems like we can move to the real self-defence exercises. So, what would you do if I attacked you like this?" Before Jesse could react, Ramirez had stepped behind him and laid an arm around his neck, using only weak force, which was on the other hand strong enough to make it impossible for Jesse to resist or free himself.

"Choke?" Jesse guessed.

"Probably", Ramirez grinned, "unless, of course, you know the trick." He released him. "Now do the same with me."

Jesse shrugged and laid his arm around Ramirez' neck. Two seconds later, the officer had him in a grip again.

"Uh, could you do that again? So slowly that I can see what you're doing, I mean", Jesse said.

Ramirez laughed. "Yeah sure, I'll show you."

* * *

Newman greeted Steve with a nod. "So you're showing Dr. Travis around here? I'm surprised you didn't bring him to the briefing."

"I thought he'd be in better hands with the boys in the gym room. Let's say I'm returning the favour he did me when I was investigating undercover as a doctor."

"Ah, the Hill Ridge Estates thing. Are you still in touch with this reporter?"

"Don't ask." Steve rolled his eyes.

Newman went to the table in the centre of the room, and Steve followed him. A team of six men had been formed to investigate on this case. Except from Steve, there were two others from the homicide department, including Jones, and three from the narcotics division.

When Newman cleared his throat, everybody in the room turned on their chairs and looked at him.

"Good morning everybody", Newman said. "You all know what this is about. We have the corpse of a 17-year old girl who was murdered four months after she had run away from home. Today we received word that the heroin she was killed with was none of the stuff we know. The guys in the lab didn't even have a name for it; it's completely new. Beside the fact that it is twice as effective as usual pure heroin, it was mixed with another substance that seems to cause aggression and affects the brain in a few other ways. There were more traces of both substances on her clothes, but the technicians didn't have the possibility yet to do enough tests. For now, we're only sure that both drugs were previously unknown to us."

"Does this mean we're going undercover?" asked LaTierri from narcotics.

Newman nodded. "You will roam around the area and try to contact the local drug dealers. Dig around, maybe you can find something. If you can infiltrate a gang, even better. Use all the connections you have - and work in teams. Sloan, you group with LaTierri. Jones goes with Davidson, Chan with Blanks. Any questions?"

"How often are we supposed to report?" asked Blanks.

"As soon as you find something, contact us. Else, give us a sign each two days so that we know you're still alive. As usual, you won't go home during that time. The ID papers are ready for you to fetch them, and you'll live in hotels. The action starts tomorrow - for today, we'll wait for more results from the lab. The more we know, the better."

He dismissed the men with a motion of his hand.

They left the room and gathered on the corridor to discuss their strategy. Chan and Blanks would act as possible users to back the others up, and Steve, LaTierri, Jones and Davidson would pretend to be dealers who had heard of the new dope.

After his third cup of coffee, Steve went to fetch Jesse from the gym room.

* * *

He entered the room in the right moment to see Jesse levering Ramirez over his hip and sending him to the ground with a dull thump. Steve stopped and gazed at the incredible sight.

Ramirez stood up. "You can shut your mouth now, Sloan", he called with a grin. "He turned out to be a fast learner, so I showed him a few advanced things."

"But you can't break my neck with one hand now or something, can you?" Steve asked Jesse.

"I don't think so", laughed Jesse, "but he showed my some nice little tricks."

Ramirez offered Jesse his hand. "If you want to exercise, you'll be welcome here at any time. Even though you're not a cop, it can't be wrong to know how to defend yourself."

"Thanks a lot." Jesse nodded and also waved O'Malley goodbye. "Ready for my next lesson", he then turned to Steve.

"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. We're going undercover tomorrow, and I've got to prepare a few things. Let's delay the rest of your tour until I'm back from the investigation."

"Does it have to do with the dead girl?"

"Yes, and this is all you'll learn from me. This is solely police work now, and you won't know me until the case is solved."

Jesse bowed his head. "It's okay. Your work is important, and, well, good luck." He looked up and grinned. "Stay in cover when necessary."

Steve smiled. "Hey, I believe you were the one who'd have had a hole in his chest now. Don't worry, I do have some experience with this, and I have a reliable partner."

"Can we call the station for updates?"

"Just leave that to Dad, he'll keep you informed, okay?"

"Sure. Okay, I think I'll drive home now. Anyway, it was a great weekend so far. Thanks."

"You're welcome. See you soon."

"Yup, bye."

* * *

Jesse steered his car along the roads, which were not that crowded at this time of the day. Thinking about his time at the station and about Steve's investigation, he only then noticed that he had unconsciously headed towards the area where Patricia Thornton's body had been found, when he already was close to the very corner.

He knew that he was in a bad area, and that he probably should turn right now and drive home, but giving in to his curiosity, he decided to drive past the corner and have a look. He wouldn't even have to get out of the car for this, only a short glance while driving by.

This place looked dark even at day. Shabby house walls with broken windows towered over a litter-covered sidewalk, car parts lay on the street, and even through the closed car windows, Jesse could smell a sweet, rotten stench that had to come from the heaps of trash piled up at every corner. He half expected a rioting, looting horde to turn around the corner and head towards him each second, swinging clubs and guns.

Actually, he didn't see a single person, which concerned him even more. He reached the corner where the body had been found, and after a short glance around, he pulled over and peered through the window. He didn't see anything, or anybody for that matter, so he quickly climbed out of the car and flitted over to the cardboard boxes, trash bins and indefinable other things that had just carelessly been dropped beside the walls.

He didn't even know what exactly he was looking for. All he knew was that there was a young girl who had had to die because of the greed of some drug dealers, or for what reason ever somebody had forced the poison into her veins. Maybe he would be able to find a clue here as to what had happened.

He aimlessly shoved the trash around, fishing for something without knowing what this something might be. Suddenly he heard the sound of a car engine, and even before he turned around, he knew that it was his car.

He made a few quick steps toward the street, but could only watch his car drive down the street. He lifted his hands and wanted to shout something, but he knew that it wouldn't be of any use.

Jesse knew that he had just gotten himself into trouble again. So here he was, standing in the worst area of LA, without a car and dressed in clothes that were casual but still made him look displaced like a clown at a dinner party. He could as well be wearing a sign saying 'kill me!'

Only when he had come to this gloomy conclusion, he heard the noise of an engine again, and much to his surprise, his car now approached him from behind. Now what was this? Had those guys only borrowed his car for a little bit of cruising? He decided that he didn't want to find out when the vehicle suddenly headed straight toward him.

He turned and ran, and the car followed him, coming closer each second. Jesse noticed a narrow lane to his left and dashed inside. A few steps later, he turned on his heel and headed back for the street. What had given him this idea? The lane was a blind alley, and he'd offer himself on a silver plate if he ran further inside.

"Hey, look at him", one of the men waiting for him on the street said, a thin smile twisting his lips. "I guess the beach boy lost his way. Hey Beach Boy, don't you think you should be at home right now?"

Or at any other place, just not here, Jesse thought. Three men were standing in front of him, another one was climbing out of the car right now. Except for the last one, they all wore blue jeans and black leather jackets, leather boots and bandanas. They were still quite young, in their early or middle twenties, clearly over six feet tall and strongly built. Jesse didn't feel the urge to get into a fight with them, although it didn't look like he would be able to avoid it.

"What do you think, folks, shall we show the Beach Boy his way home?" said the first man and tenderly regarded a baseball bat he was holding in one hand.

Two of the others uttered an approving howl, but the fourth man cut the noise off with a gesture of his hand. Jesse looked at him - he was in his early forties, maybe a bit older, with short-cut dark blond hair, green eyes gazing from a pale face with a nose that had been broken more than once, and full lips in an otherwise almost featureless countenance. He was only slightly taller than Jesse, but seemed to dominate the rowdies only by his authority, even though - or maybe because - he didn't follow their uniform dress code but wore a light brown linen suit. Now he walked around the car and scrutinized Jesse.

"He is healthy, though apparently not very clever. Maybe we can need him. Have your fun, but don't hurt him too badly. I want to have him in an acceptable condition for our experiment."

When Jesse heard the words 'hurt' and 'experiment', his feet seemed to develop their own initiative. Without thinking, he darted to the left and started running down the street, but a hit in his back made him stumble and fall. His chin scratched over the asphalt, and the skin was shaved off his bare knees. He hardly had the time to roll on his back when somebody seized him by his t-shirt and simply lifted him up with one hand. He was flung against the brick wall of a house and saw himself confronted with the three guys again. In an attempt of resistance that was just as courageous as futile, he jumped at the man who was standing closest to him, but against three men, a baseball bat and a few brass knuckles, he didn't have a chance.

Only seconds later, he marvelled about his new discovery that somebody could be beaten to pulp without even bleeding or having a single broken bone. His resistance melted with each hit he received, and his whole body was feeling numb.

"Don't exaggerate", the man in the suit intervened. "Make sure he doesn't try to escape, and get him into the car. Blade, you fetch the Mustang."

One of the men nodded and walked up the street. The others held Jesse, and the man who had spoken first again lifted his baseball bat. Jesse could hardly stand on his own feet, let alone dodge the hit. The bat hit him on his left temple, sending him right into the arms of the other man. Blackness had already overcome him before he fell.

* * *

In the evening, Newman had news from the laboratory. "We know more about the effect of the second substance now. It has similarities to several drugs that were developed by the government to increase the aggression of soldiers in several wars. Of course, I never told you about this. Anyway, the government never has achieved the desired effect, and the project got too hot for them soon. This new drug seems to affect certain parts of the brain - it causes aggression and seemingly a loss of memory, which appears to be selective. Some of the lab rats couldn't find their way through a labyrinth, others forgot which button to press to get food. Very weird, that. The drug also seems to react with the heroin - it looks like it wasn't the heroin itself that killed Patricia Thornton, but the combination with the other drug."

"So what do we pretend to be looking for?" Jones requested. "Are we looking for the new heroin, or do we want the other stuff?"

"Blanks and Chan only ask for the dope, you others as dealers try and find out what they are using the other drug for. Show your interest in buying it, but don't make it too obvious - they might ask for your reason. Be vague, tell them you want to resell it, use it for your pit bull, anything that sounds reasonable."

"Yeah, especially the pit bull story", Steve remarked.

"I'm sure you can think of something better, Dr. Foster", Newman said with an ironic smile.

"Certainly", Steve replied.

"Now this is all the info we can give you. Good luck!"

* * *

The young man woke up with a headache and a bitter taste in his mouth. He was lying on a thin mattress through which he could feel the cold of the concrete below. Dust danced in the sunbeams falling through dirt-covered windowpanes. He sat up and coughed.

A man in a light brown suit approached him, accompanied by another guy in jeans and a leather jacket.

"Are you feeling better?" the man in the suit asked.

"That's none of your business", came the angry answer.

The man squatted down. "Hey, it's me - Ralph. What happens to my men certainly *is* my business."

"Your men? I don't know you."

"What do you mean, you don't know me? You don't recognize my face?"

"No." The young man looked down as he rubbed his forehead, and Ralph and the other man exchanged a satisfied glance.

"Boy, that hit on the head must have been harder than I thought", Ralph said sadly. "Do you remember who you are?"

The young man looked up, his thoughts whirling as he brooded over the question. Single pictures flashed in his mind, memory fragments torn out of their surrounding and meaning nothing more to him than photographs from someone else's last holiday trip. Some seemed to form scenes, make sense, but the more he concentrated on them, the less he could grasp the thoughts. A puzzled expression on his face, he gazed at Ralph. "No", he said helplessly.

Ralph sat down beside him and laid an arm around his shoulder. "Don't worry", he said, "we'll work that out. You had a pretty tough fight yesterday, you know?"

"Yeah", the man in jeans grinned. "And you finished three of 'em guys on your own. That's our Snake."

"Snake?" The young man slowly shook his head. "What kind of name is that?"

"Until a few days ago, you were just Jack", explained Ralph.

"And then we met this guy who was making trouble", added the other one. "You only looked at him - this really ice cold look of yours. And when he least expected it, wham - you struck. One move, quick and deadly. Now you're Snake."

"And what's your name?"

"Blade."

"Ah, sure. What else."

"Can you get up?" Ralph asked.

Snake carefully got to his feet. When he looked down, he noticed that he was wearing blue jeans, black boots, and a leather jacket over a black t- shirt, just like Blade.

"What are we doing here?" he wanted to know.

"Business", replied Ralph. He scrutinized him. "You look like you're quite fit again. Come with me, I'll introduce you to the others."

They left the small room and went down the stairs of what Snake recognized as a deserted house, with six apartments on each floor.

In a big room on the ground floor, four other men were waiting, all wearing the same jeans-and-leather-jacket dress.

"Meet Axe, Ripper, Fox and Snipes", Ralph said, motioning at each man as he introduced him. "Folks, we don't have the time to discuss this too long, but Snake has problems remembering a few things. Take him with you on your tour, and show him how things work. In a quiet minute, we'll try and find out what's wrong with him."

Axe, a blond giant with almost black eyes, laid a shovel-sized hand on Snake's shoulder. "We'll take good care of him", he said and shoved him towards the door.

* * *

When they had left, Ralph took a cell phone out of his pocket, attached a small device to its front and dialled. "Mr. K? Yes, it's Ralph. Brainstorm VC-7 seems to work. Number 23 survived and accepts the new identity."

"It was about time", a distorted voice sounded from the phone. "Did you know that they found number 22? Be extremely cautious. By the way - do you know anything about 23's background?"

Ralph nodded, although he knew that Mr. K couldn't see the motion. "Quite a few things", he replied, taking a driver's license out of a black wallet. "The name is Jesse David Travis, and he lives in Venice."

"He's not homeless?" The voice became sharp. "How did you find him?"

"He was stumbling around here. He had left his car on the street and was digging in the trash. Weird little guy. We took his car and hid it, and he's with the boys now."

"Haven't we been doing this long enough for you to remember that we can't just take people who might have a family looking for them? I take it that he has a job, and if he doesn't show up, his face will get you into trouble soon."

"He won't exactly be in an area that is frequented by police, and we only want to monitor the effects for a short time. We'll find others to work with now that we know the dosage."

"And after you left the heroin away."

"Hey, it worked with VC-1 to VC-6. Who could have known that it would have such a devastating effect in combination with the VC-7? Now we'll have to make him dependent on us in a different way, but the point is that the personality change is a success for now."

"Did you have a chance to evaluate his behaviour before and after?"

"He didn't show aggressive tendencies when we picked him up. Let's see what the boys say when they bring him back."

"Good to hear that we're having success now. I have invested enough money, it's time that this pays. I will give your report to the laboratory. We will be able to do some tests in a controlled environment here. Keep number 23, though, until he makes trouble. The results from the field experiment will be as valuable as the others."

"Okay, Mr. K. I will keep you updated on our progress."

Without any other word, Mr. K hung up, and Ralph, who knew that his boss didn't care much about polite phrases, only shrugged and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

* * *

They stepped onto the street, and Snake blinked as the sun seemed to pierce through his eyes right into his brain. After a quick search in his pockets, he found shades with blue glasses and put them on.

Fox, a pale guy with red hair and a blond dyed beard, patted his shoulder. "Armed and ready?"

"Ready, yes. Armed, no."

"And what about this?" Fox reached under Snake's jacket and quickly pulled a pistol out. "Someone must have really knocked you out, man."

Snake grabbed the pistol and pushed Fox away. "Don't you touch me! Next time, you'll lose some fingers."

Fox grinned. "Quite yourself again. Now let's go."

"What are we doing?"

"Everyone has to make a living. We're gonna get some money. You, I, and Ripper take the Mustang, the others get the Buick and do their own job. Come on!"

They went towards a dark blue '67 Mustang Convertible, and Ripper dropped on the driver's seat. Fox uttered a rough yell, and Ripper stepped on the gas pedal. With screeching tyres, the Mustang shot forward and down the street.

"Okay", Fox instructed Snake, "we've got to be fast. I get the money, you keep the people in the store in check. If you see a hand moving towards the emergency button, the hand is history, got me?"

Snake nodded uncomfortably.

"Okay, you'll need this." Fox handed him a black neckerchief and a baseball hat. "We're almost there, get ready."

Snake tied the cloth over his mouth and nose and put the hat on. Then he nodded at Fox, who had also disguised his face, and the Mustang stopped in front of a Seven-Eleven.

His pistol drawn, Snake rushed inside the store behind Fox and panned the gun around, looking for a possible hero who might try to attack them. The cashier and the few customers were intelligent enough not to move while Fox stuffed the money into the bag he had brought with him. "Get their wallets", he then shouted at Snake, who motioned the customers to hand him the contents of their pockets.

This was wrong. It wasn't only the fact that his conscience told him not to do it, he didn't have any experience in robbing people, either. He didn't feel like he had done anything like this before. The gun felt familiar in his hand, but in this particular situation, it appeared to him like he was standing on the wrong end of the weapon.

"What is it?" Fox shouted from the door. "Are you coming, or what?"

Snake shook his head to clear his mind and followed his companion outside. They jumped into the car, and Ripper steered it across an intersection in a suicidal manoeuvre. From afar, they heard police sirens, but they weren't even close to catching them.

"Yee-hah", shouted Fox, tearing the baseball hat from his head and pulling the neckerchief down to his chest. "Now how did we do that again, huh? Are we the kings of the road, or what?" He looked at Snake. "How was that? Didn't this give you a kick? Man, we're so good!"

Snake's heart was pounding in his throat, but he grinned. "Pretty cool", he said.

"Pretty cool?" Fox uttered a shrill laugh and pushed Ripper. "Hey, did you hear that? He thought it was 'pretty cool'. I want to have your nerves, Ice Cube."

They headed for the old house that apparently served as their quarters. They hadn't even parked the Mustang when the second team, consisting of Axe and Snipes, returned. Together, they went into the building.

Snake and Fox emptied their bags on a table, and Ralph nodded. "Nice work", he said. "What about you?" he then turned to Axe.

Axe reached into his pocket and handed him a bundle of dollar bills. Ralph didn't count them but looked at the blond man. "The arranged price?"

Axe nodded. "No problems this time."

Ralph smiled. "That's how I like it. How did Snake do?"

"Considering that he was almost beaten to pulp yesterday, he did a damn good job", replied Fox.

"Has anything come to your mind meanwhile?" Ralph asked.

Snake shook his head. "Not a single thing."

"Don't worry about this. Have a drink and relax a bit." He handed him a small bottle of coke, and the others went to a refrigerator in the corner in which more soft drinks stood.

Snake emptied the bottle within a few seconds. He hadn't been so thirsty since - suddenly a picture appeared in front of his inner eye. He was standing in a small apartment, holding a glass of water in his hand. In the next instant, the picture disappeared, and he was looking at a white-haired man with a moustache who said something to him. Again, he had a glass of water in his hand, his arm bandaged, and he noticed that the other man was wearing a doctor's coat.

"You okay?" Ripper held him by his upper arm and gave him a look from dark grey eyes.

He nodded and wanted to say that he was alright, but his voice cracked. He suddenly felt so tired, and the world around him swayed.

"Come on, lay down, pal." Ripper guided him to a shabby couch in the corner opposite to that in which the fridge stood. He helped him lay down and placed the coke bottle on the ground. "You better get some sleep", he said.

* * *

Ralph stepped closer and regarded the man on the couch. "Very nice", he said. "After all those disasters, I hadn't thought we'd be so successful."

"What are we going to do with him, boss?" Snipes asked. "Do you want us to get rid of him?"

"No, Mr. K wants us to watch his development. Now that we're sure about the personality change, we need to know how the VC-7 affects his behaviour. Try to turn him around, but be careful - one step at a time. He'll be with you for quite a while, so give him the dirty jobs. This should also help us keep your police records clean. Fox, the Brainstorm."

The red-haired man walked over to the fridge and took a small black case out. He handed it to Ralph, who carefully opened it.

"Too sad we have to give it to him each 24 hours. Mr. K should really work on this feature if he wants to sell it." He took a syringe and a small ampoule filled with a light blue liquid. Then he injected an exactly measured dose of the VC-7 into the sleeping man's neck.

Snake winced in his enforced sleep as the drug entered his body, altered and blocked the connections between the synapses in his brain and laid a veil over his memories that had started to make their way back to the surface of his conscience. In his dreams however, fragments of memories connected to pictures that didn't make much sense but gave him a feeling of having a past, a life before he had woken up among these men who claimed to be his friends but seemed so strange to him.

* * *

He was standing in a jail cell, looking at a blond woman who was chewing on a rice cake. For some reason, he knew that he was dreaming, and he wondered what strange scenery this was. Which woman would eat rice cakes while waiting for her execution? Execution? How could he know this? He remembered having seen a body lying on the floor of a house, a harpoon nailing it to the ground. He and the woman had quickly left the house, but outside, the local police had been waiting for them.

The woman kept on chewing, and the crunching of the rice cake between her teeth was so annoying that he was close to tearing it out of her hand and stomping it to dust. Had they really killed a person? He knew that he had some kind of relationship with the girl, and he wondered if this was a memory, and if they had played Bonnie and Clyde.

The blink of an eye later, he found himself in a courtroom. He heard sentence fragments like "murder", "Eric Spindler", "guilty", and he realized that he was the defendant. Eric Spindler - was this the victim he had murdered? And if so, was he the man he had seen with the harpoon in his body?

* * *

"Hey Amanda", Mark called as the pathologist went past him on the corridor. "Do you know where Jesse is?"

Amanda shook her head. "I have no idea. It's Monday, and I believe he has the night shift. Shouldn't he be in the Emergency Room?"

"Yes, his shift started at 5, that is, almost two hours ago, but he isn't here yet."

"Have you called him up at home?"

"Not yet, but I'm going to do this right now. Steve told me that he practiced some martial arts technique with the experts at the police station. Maybe he's a bit sore today and is peacefully sleeping."

Amanda laid her head askew. "Dr. Jesse Travis, Mr. Work, forgetting about his shift? No way."

"You're right. I'll just call him right away and ask what's wrong."

* * *

Steve and LaTierri were standing in a dark alley, both dressed in light blue jeans, t-shirts and denim jackets. Steve shifted from one foot to another.

"We've been waiting here for almost an hour, let's just go", said LaTierri.

Steve shook his head. "Let's give them another twenty minutes. If they don't show up by then, we'll have to look for somebody else."

Two minutes later, the headlights of a car approached them, but were soon switched off as the car rolled towards them with turned off engine.

The vehicle, which Steve recognized as an old grey Buick Skylark in a miserable condition, came to a halt beside them, and two men climbed out. One of them, a blond giant, seemed to be the leader.

"You're Axe?" Steve asked him.

"The Viking's Axe, life-sized and in flesh", grinned the man. "You're here to do some business?"

"Yes and no", LaTierri replied.

"Hey, if you wanna play games, go home and screw your Barbie doll, Spaghetti. Simple question - you're doing business here or not?"

Steve stepped forward. "Yes, but we're not going to buy that crap you're carrying around with you. We heard that you have better stuff to offer, something new. We're interested in buying a bit more with the option to resell it."

Axe gave him a suspicious glance. "I don't know what you mean."

Steve shrugged. "Okay. I thought you were the man to ask. If you don't want to, that's fine with me. We'd have paid a good price, but I guess we'll have to find somebody else for this deal."

He turned to go, and LaTierri followed him.

"Wait a minute!" Axe shouted.

Steve and LaTierri turned around, giving him an uninterested look.

"What if I can help you?" Axe asked.

"Can you?" asked LaTierri.

"Maybe. Get into the car, I'll introduce you to somebody." The blond man motioned them to enter the Skylark, and the other one sat down on the driver's seat again. Axe blindfolded Steve and his colleague - "You needn't know everything", he commented -, and the driver took a complicated course through the streets, with lots of roundabout routes and circles only to puzzle the passengers.

* * *

"Hey Snake, wake up." Somebody held his shoulder, shaking him not very gently. "Come on, we got things to do."

He blinked the drowsiness away and yawned. "What things?"

"Earning money."

"Do you mean we're gonna rob another store?"

The other man, whom Snake recognized as Fox now, shook his head and grinned. "No, this is way better."

They masked themselves again and left with the Mustang. Soon they stopped in front of a small Asian store, and this time, Ripper came inside with them.

Since he had woken up, Snake had felt a dull anger at almost everything. Now a few special things annoyed him so much that he had to put his hands into his pockets in order not to hurl some of the Chinese vases down to the ground. A slight but incontrollable tremble shook his shoulders, and he breathed heavily. The smell in this store, all the precious little items used to decorate the room, the look of the delicate, little old man behind the counter, everything was just driving him mad.

"Hello Ping", Ripper called cheerfully. "Or was it Pong? Bonsai? Chop Suey? Ah, I don't care. It's payday, grandpa!"

The old man desperately shook his head. "You said once every month."

Ripper turned to Fox. "Have we already been here this month? I don't think so." He quickly vaulted over the counter and seized the man by his shirt. "So - where's the money? You know, we have to pay our men so that they can protect you."

"I don't have enough, I can't give you any."

Although the rest of his face was disguised, Ripper's eyes showed that he was grinning. "Seems like your insurance policy has just been revoked. Hey Snake, you look like you're in the mood to tidy this mess up."

Snake tensed. "Mess?"

"Yeah, or do you want to tell me that you like all this trash? Like the ugly pot here?" He took a small vase while he was holding the shop owner with his other hand and dropped it to the floor, where it burst with a bright sound.

The old man whimpered, and Snake shot forward and slapped him in the face. "Shut up!" he shouted. "Keep your fucking mouth shut, or I'll tear your tongue out!" He hesitated. What had he done? He had beaten a man who was too weak to resist, and - another whimper immediately made him clench his fists again. He could barely suppress the urge to beat the man again. Instead, he spun around, and his gaze was caught by a glass cabinet in which small clay figures were displayed.

The old man noticed his look "No", he whispered. "Please don't do that."

Somewhere in the depth of his mind, a small voice shouted "No!", but the irrational anger was stronger. With a rough yell, he kicked against the cabinet, and the glass pane exploded. Another kick, and the clay figures tumbled to he ground. Snake stamped on them until only a heap of red dust was left. Panting and with sweat dripping from his forehead, he stared at the ground.

"That looks a lot better", he heard Ripper's voice. His mouth half open, his hands trembling, Snake stared at him.

"Yeah", he replied. "Ugly trash, that."

Ripper turned the old man around so that he looked at him. "See?" he said in a sad tone. "This happens when you don't pay for your insurance. And to make sure you won't forget the money next time we visit you, I'll leave a little reminder." He took the shop owner's hand and twisted it until a cracking sound could be heard, and the old man writhed with pain.

Phalanges. The word had suddenly flashed in Snake's mind. Three, maybe more bones broken, the sinews strained - this would mean four weeks with a splint, and several months of physiotherapy, but the man already had arthritis in an advanced stage - the broken bones wouldn't make it worse.

He shook his head. Where had these thoughts come from again?

"See you soon", Ripper's voice brought him back to reality. He pushed the man back, vaulted over the counter again and pulled at Snake's sleeve. "Come, we'll get you a tattoo."

They went outside and jumped into the car.

* * *

Minutes later, they entered a dark house. When they went into a small room whose walls were covered with pictures of animals and strange symbols, Snake coughed as cigarette smoke and something that smelled like Marijuana bit his lungs.

A thin man with a crooked nose looked up. "Ah, it's you", he said. "What can I do for you, and who's your pal?"

"It's Snake. He's your customer for tonight. I guess you know what he wants, Bob."

"Sure." The man waved them over. "Come, I'll show you a few samples."

Snake sat down on a chair. Was he really going to get a tattoo here? It almost looked like it. The thin man handed him a few sheets of paper on which several different snake motives could be seen.

"The upper arm, like you?" Bob asked in Fox' and Ripper's direction. They nodded.

"This will be the proof that you belong to us", Fox explained. "Now that you have a name, you'll keep it, and as you seem to forget things a lot", he chuckled, "you'll have it tattooed on your arm."

Snake nodded. "So you have tattoos, too?"

"Lots", Ripper grinned. "But these are the most important ones." He and Fox rolled the sleeves of their t-shirts up and showed their left upper arms. On Fox' arm, the head of a fox was pictured, and on Ripper's skin, blood dropped from a rusty scalpel.

"Nice", Snake commented.

"So", Bob said. "Have you found something you like?"

Snake spread the sheets of paper on the table and looked at lots of different snakeheads, whole snakes, sets of snake teeth, and rattlesnake tails.

One picture caught his attention. It was a small one, two green serpents coiled around a slim stick. The picture touched something within him - like it was a well-known symbol from past times. First, do no harm. Again, a memory flash, too short to grasp its sense. Too many. Too many snakes. It wasn't a real thought, only a short idea, gone before he had noticed that it had been there.

He pointed at the picture. "This one."

Bob nodded. "Good choice. It's the wand of Hermes, a symbol of heralds and commerce. And", he winked, "Hermes is said to be the god of thieves."

"Hey", Fox interrupted him. "No history lesson. Just do it, we've got to see Ralph soon."

"Okay, okay." Bob shook his head. "If you hurry me, you get inferior quality, so sit down and shut up."

Fox and Ripper went outside, and Bob turned towards Snake. "Do you want it in colour?"

"Sure."

"Okay, lean back, this might take a few minutes." He rolled the sleeve of Snake's black t-shirt up and whistled through his teeth. "Man, you're lucky that your upper arm doesn't look like the rest of your body. When I have to work on a green and blue background, I just don't get the colours right."

He whistled a tune while he was working, and every now and then he glanced at Snake's face, who didn't even seem to feel the needle. "Is that your first tattoo?" he asked.

"I think so."

"Most people know."

"I don't."

"Okay." Bob applied the last bit of colour, stood up and stepped back to regard his work. Then he nodded in satisfaction. "That's it", he said. "Wanna have a look?" He motioned at a mirror on the wall, and Snake stood up and looked at the tattoo.

"Very cool", he said. "That's nice work, you're good."

"Thanks", Bob said. "Most people don't care to mention that."

Snake had seen something at the wall that caught his attention. He slowly went closer and regarded the picture in awe.

Bob stepped beside him. "It's beautiful, huh?"

"It's a work of art." Snake ran his index finger over the paper, following the lines of a winged dragon whose body was covered with green and golden scales. In its claws, it was holding a sword that was seemingly gleaming with a distant light.

"I tell you something: if you want to have it, I'll do it for free. You're a good guy, and I believe that you'll appreciate it."

"Really? Wow, that would be great."

"Okay - where do you want to have it?"

* * *

When the car stopped, Steve and LaTierri were led into a house, where the blindfolds were taken off. A man in a light brown suit looked at them.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Your friend said you might be able to help us", Steve replied.

"In what way?"

"We are looking for something - new." Steve looked around. "I take it that all the people in here know about it, so let's just call it what it is - we want the new heroin."

"Just in case I know what you're talking about, what amount have you thought of?"

"As much as you have to offer. Of course, we want to make a bit of profit, too, so maybe you can give us a discount price among colleagues."

"Ah, I thought that you didn't look like you'd need it for yourselves. What about the money?"

"We have plenty. Tell us how much you can give us, and name a price. If we agree, we'll let you know, and we can meet for the deal."

* * *

They climbed out of the car, and Snake wanted to go straight into the building, but Fox stopped him.

"Wait a minute. The blue flag's out, we have a visitor."

"Police?"

"No, a customer. But we're the field squad, they needn't see our faces. Disguise and go past them right up the stairs. Don't talk. We have no idea if they might have seen us before. Hell, we might be pressing money from them right now." He laughed.

They pulled the neckerchiefs over their faces, but didn't put on sunglasses. The baseball hats still on their heads, they now entered the house.

Two men were discussing something with Ralph, one of them tall and with broad shoulders, the other one small and wiry, with black hair combed back and gathered in a pigtail.

When Snake, Fox and Ripper went through the lobby, the two men turned around. Snake had no more than a short glance for the smaller one, but when he saw the face of the other, he froze. This face - he had seen this man before somewhere.

Fox pushed him from behind. "Go, man", he hissed.

Snake slowly went towards the stairs, looking over his shoulder as he did so. Where, where had he seen the man? He had a feeling like he should know him, but no name wanted to come to mind.

* * *

Steve and LaTierri turned around when three men came inside. All wore baseball hats and had cloths tied in front of their faces. They quickly went past them, but when the smallest of them saw Steve, he stopped and gazed at him. Steve returned the look, wondering if this might be someone he had arrested before, but the blue eyes didn't show recognition but only blank confusion. The man behind him pushed him in the back and whispered something, and they went up the stairs, the small man looking back at Steve.

LaTierri pushed him with his elbow. "Sorry", Steve said. "What did you say?"

"I asked if three pounds would be enough", Ralph repeated.

"It will do for a beginning. Can you guarantee that we get more if we're satisfied?"

Ralph nodded. "It will take a few days, but then you can have as much as you need."

"Good to hear this. How much for the three pounds?"

"80, for you."

"We'll take it for 70."

Ralph swayed his head. "Okay, as you still have to test it. Tomorrow at six. Snipes and Axe will meet you in the same place. Only you two, no new members."

Steve nodded.

"Okay", Ralph said. "Axe, guide our guests outside and take them to the alley where you met them."

They were blindfolded again and led to the car.

* * *

When the car had left the alley, and they had taken their blindfolds off, LaTierri turned to Steve. "Are you crazy?" he shouted in comic desperation. "Where do you want to get 70,000 bucks?"

"From Captain Newman."

"Can't we just bust them all tomorrow?"

"Nah. The guy we talked to might be the boss of the gang, but he gets his orders from somebody else, and I'd like to know who this somebody is. Besides that, we still have to find out where this other drug comes from and what it is being used for. There's a murder we have to solve."

LaTierri gave him a defeated grin. "Okay, okay. I just hope you know what you're doing, pal."

* * *

"He's not at home?"

Mark shook his head.

"And did you talk to the landlord?"

"Yes, he said that he has last seen Jesse when he left his apartment yesterday morning."

"Which was when he drove to the police station."

"Exactly. When Steve came home yesterday before he went undercover, he told me that he had sent Jesse home."

"This means he vanished somewhere between the station and his apartment", Amanda said uncomfortably.

"So he's been missing for more than 24 hours", Mark said. "I'll call the police. This doesn't look like Jesse at all."

"You're right." Nervously, Amanda played with a lock of her hair. "Mark, my shift is over in an hour."

"So is mine. Let me make my call, and then we'll try to find him."

* * *

Fox looked over his shoulder, then he turned towards Ralph.

"Your dope is really frightening", he grinned. "He jumped at the old Chinese guy and said he'd tear his tongue out. Then he kicked half of the furniture to pieces - this time, it really seems to work."

"Fantastic. Did you note any of the side effects?"

"Not yet. Looks like the VC-7 is what you've been looking for."

"At least it's way better than every try before. What is he doing right now?"

"Resting again. The drug seems to reduce his sensibility for pain, but Axe, Snipes and Ripper must have hurt him more seriously than we thought."

"Make sure he doesn't have any life-threatening injuries. This experiment is running too well to spoil it with his death."

"Okay." Fox went back up the stairs and bowed over the man who was lying on the thin mattress again. He had been feeling hot when they had returned, and he had taken his t-shirt off. Fox could regard the two snakes on his left upper arm, green on slightly reddened skin. He shook his head.

"Snake", he murmured. "I wonder what weird idea Ralph will come up with next. Poor little guy." He quickly felt the other one's pulse and then palpated his body, searching for swollen or hardened spots, but he didn't find anything that indicated an internal bleeding or other serious injury. "Get some sleep", he whispered. "You'll have a hard day tomorrow."

* * *

In the next morning, they had breakfast down in the lobby.

"Hey", Snake said, chewing on a sandwich, "how long do you know me?"

"Why do you ask?" Fox wanted to know.

"I was just wondering. You said that I got my name only a few days ago. I hoped that you could tell me a few things about me. What's my real name?"

Fox shrugged. "You never introduced yourself. All you told us was your first name, Jack."

Snake repeated the name, but it didn't bear any connotations for him. "Anything more you know? How did you meet me?"

"Listen", said Fox and stood up, "I wish I could tell you more, but I don't know anything, okay?" With fast steps, he went outside.

Snake put his sandwich on the table. Fox was hiding something from him, this was obvious. But what?

He remembered his strange dream. If he had really murdered somebody, he possibly hadn't told these people about it, and who knew what else he had hidden from them?

He hadn't seen more images, not even in his dreams. The only clue he thought might help him was the face of the man who had been in the lobby yesterday night.

He supported his head with his hands and recalled the face. Its features had been somewhat coarse, with blue eyes, thin lips and a strong chin. The man's hair had been of a light brown colour, but somehow he could also picture it in a blond hue. Suddenly, he had to think about the man with the white moustache he had seen in his dream. Those two looked so similar, like they were somehow related.

He almost tipped the table over as he stood up in a jerky movement. Another picture forced its way into his conscience - the man from the lobby was pointing a weird looking gun at him, slowly pulling the trigger. If this was a memory, he had really met the man before, and they had had some kind of fight. Snake desperately massaged his temples. He simply couldn't recall where he had seen him. A warehouse! It had looked like a warehouse. He remembered having crouched behind crates, sneaking around, and trying to get behind the back of another man.

Before he could think further about this, Fox came back inside. "Come on", he said. "We have a new assignment."

Again, they left in the Mustang with Ripper driving, and they rushed inside a Seven-Eleven where only few customers were shopping. Fox took the money from the cashier's desk and ordered Snake to get the wallets again.

When he came to a black woman who held her little son on her arms, he hesitated. CJ. The little boy openly looked at him, and his big brown eyes reminded him of a child he had a special connection to. While Snake was returning the look, the boy suddenly grabbed for his neckerchief and pulled it down. Snake stepped back, raising his pistol. Seconds later, he pulled the cloth back over his mouth and nose. Fox hadn't even noticed the incident, he was way too busy stuffing the money into his bag.

The woman looked at Snake in horror - she was convinced that he would shoot her now that she had seen his face. He stood there pointing his pistol at her, but his finger didn't even touch the trigger.

"CJ", he said, laying his head askew as he stared at the child.

Fox was now ready to leave. "Come", he shouted. "Why do I always have to tell you this?"

Snake followed Fox, and they dashed down the street again.

He couldn't share Fox' excitement this time. What did these letters mean? Were they initials? They had felt like a name to him. The name of a boy? He brooded over it, but didn't come to a conclusion.

For the rest of the day, he didn't have much time to think about this, as they were busy pressing money from shop owners and selling suspicious brown packages in dark alleys. Snake didn't feel the least bit good, but he did as he was told. Once in a while, the strange irrational anger flowed up inside of him, but he always got the chance to let steam off.

* * *

"Dr. Sloan? This is Captain Newman. I was told that you reported Dr. Travis as missing."

"Yes. Do you have any news?"

"Oh, I think so. But better come to the station, you won't believe this unless you see it."

* * *

Mark and Amanda arrived at the station and went straight into Captain Newman's office. A black woman with a small boy was sitting on a chair, and a TV set with a video recorder was standing in a corner.

Newman greeted them and introduced them to the woman. "This is Latisha Jackson. She was shopping in a Seven-Eleven downtown with her son Mark when two armed men came inside, emptied the cash register and relieved the customers of their wallets."

"What does this have to do with Jesse?" Mark asked.

"Watch and marvel." Newman switched the TV on and started the VCR. The black-and-white surveillance video of the store flickered on the screen.

They saw the usual quiet operation in the store, until the doors flew open, and two masked men stormed inside, pointing guns at the people. One of them went to the cashier desk and started to take the money from the register, the other one went around and took the wallets from the customers. When he approached a woman Mark and Amanda recognized as Latisha Jackson, he suddenly hesitated, long enough for little Mark to pull the cloth down he had tied around his face.

Mark and Amanda sat with bated breath. "Jesse", Amanda breathed. "No, that can't be. The quality of this tape is not that good, it might be somebody else."

Newman shook his head. "I'm afraid it *was* him. Mrs. Jackson clearly identified him on a Christmas group shot we found in Detective Sloan's desk, and she also mentioned that he said something strange."

"Yes", the woman said. "When he saw Mark, he said 'CJ'. Nothing more, only 'CJ'."

"That's the name of my son", Amanda replied in astonishment. "But why would he call your son 'CJ'?"

Mark scratched his chin. "Could we see this tape again?" he asked.

"Sure." Newman rewound the tape and hit the play button. Again, the scene from the store appeared on the TV screen.

"The quality really is not that good", Mark said, "but doesn't he look very puzzled to you?"

"That's his look most of the time", Amanda stated.

"Maybe, but watch his movements. Even they are unsure, insecure." He turned towards Captain Newman. "Steve told me that this new drug affected the memory in some way. Could it be that it also causes memory loss with humans?"

Newman slowly nodded. "Considering the results of the lab experiments, this is possible. Do you think those people might have created it for this purpose?"

"Look at Jesse."

"Okay, you may be right."

The phone rang, and Newman made an apologizing gesture and took the receiver. "Newman. Yes. Ah, good, thanks. No, I'll take care of this myself." He hung up and placed his palms on the desktop. "They found his car."

"We're going with you", said Mark and Amanda in unison.

"I thought you'd say that", replied Newman. "Mrs. Jackson, thanks for your commitment. You helped us a lot."

Mrs. Jackson left with her son, and Mark, Amanda, and Newman left for the place where Jesse's car had been found.

* * *

"No sign of Jesse?" Amanda asked.

"Apparently not", Newman answered. "If those people are clever, they hid the car far enough away from their place. I'm sorry, but this seems to be a cold trace."

"However, now we know what happened to him", Mark said. "Can you contact Steve and tell him about this? If he's trying to get in touch with the people who produce this drug, he might also have a chance to find Jesse."

"Unfortunately, he's already out on the streets. We don't know where he is or what he does, and we have to wait until he contacts us."

"I hope this will be soon", Amanda said.

* * *

They were driving along the street when suddenly Fox motioned Ripper to stop the car. "Hey man", he said to Snake. "See this guy in the alley? Looks like he's lost his way. Look at those expensive clothes. I bet we'll find a few pretty things in his pockets. I'd say this is your chance to prove that you learned something, pal." He pushed him towards the door, and Snake carefully went to the lane, trying to stay in the shadows so that his victim couldn't see him.

When he had almost reached the man, a voice sounded inside his head. Overwhelm him without hurting him. Where had he heard this? He didn't have the time to think about it as his victim had now noticed him. As he couldn't run away in the blind alley, he rushed towards Snake and tried to get past him, but was stopped with a casual kick in his back.

Snake planted himself before the man. "Come on, make it easy for yourself", he said. "Just give me your money, your watch and whatever you have with you, and I'll let you go."

The man didn't seem to have heard him. He attacked him with a large leap, and Snake wrestled with him for a few seconds. Another memory flash disturbed his concentration. He was standing on a mat, fighting with another man who wore a t-shirt with the logo of the LAPD. Why the police? More men with the same t-shirts were standing on and around the mat, cheering the fighters. This wasn't a fight, it was some kind of training. He had been training with police officers. Was he a cop? Yes, this might be an explanation for everything - his uneasiness when he committed crimes, the lack of knowledge about his life that the gang members showed.

This consideration had distracted him long enough to give his victim the chance to get past him and run out of the alley. On the street, Ripper was already waiting with his pistol, and without hesitation, he fired at the man.

When Snake saw the limp body on the concrete, he automatically dashed forward and kneeled beside him. The man had a wound on his right shoulder, but when Snake lifted him a few inches, he didn't see an exit wound. "The bullet's stuck in his collarbone", he said. "We have to stop the bleeding." He pressed his hand on the wound, and Fox handed him his neckerchief.

"Use this", he said.

"Are you two crazy?" Ripper asked. "Even in this part of the city, the police will be here in a few minutes."

Snake wanted to contradict, but a warning look from Fox made him fall silent. He pressed the cloth on the wound and then stood up. "Okay, let's go", he said.

* * *

When they arrived at the house, the blue flag, a small piece of cloth, was hanging out of a window again, and Snake and Ripper masked. Fox simply pulled his shirt up over his face, and they went inside.

Ralph looked up when his men entered the lobby. The two men from the night before were again standing beside him.

"Don't worry about the disguise", he said. "These gentlemen are doing business with us, no need to hide your faces."

Fox and Ripper took the baseball hats off and revealed their faces.

"What about you, Snake?" Ralph asked. "Don't be impolite, show our guests who you are."

Snake, again caught by the sight of the tall man's face, slowly pulled the neckerchief from his face.

* * *

Steve's eyes widened, and he could barely suppress the reflex to gasp for air. Without a sound, he stared at Jesse.

Ralph, as he had introduced himself meanwhile, gave him an asking glance. "What is it? Do you know him?"

Steve shook his head. "No, but his face looks awful", he improvised. This was no lie - Jesse had a black eye, his chin was scratched like he had kissed the asphalt, and from his left temple down to his cheek, everything was swollen. "I'm sorry to interrupt our deal like this, but do you have a rest room in here?"

Ralph laughed. "The call of nature. Sure, down this corridor." He motioned toward the right side of the room.

* * *

Steve leaned against the wall and wiped his forehead. What the hell was Jesse doing here? Why was he hanging around with these guys? And what did this confused look of his have to mean?

He hadn't even started to sort his thoughts when the door opened, and Jesse stuck his head inside.

"They need you out there", he said and wanted to go.

"Hey, come in here", Steve said and seized him by his jacket.

"Don't touch me, man", Jesse said angrily and pushed Steve away. "What do you want?"

"Jess, what are you doing here?"

Jesse's expression became angrier and even more puzzled. "What? My name's Snake."

"Snake?" Steve's voice cracked. "You don't exactly look like Kurt Russell, Jess, and this is not 'Escape from New York'. What's this supposed to be? When I tell you I'm going undercover, this doesn't mean you're going, too!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Who's this Jess you're talking about all the time?"

"This isn't funny, Jesse. What are you doing here?"

Jesse pulled his jacket off and rolled up the left sleeve of his t-shirt. "I'm Snake", he said and pointed at a tattoo on his upper arm, "and if you don't wanna be bitten, I recommend you move your ass back to the lobby. And what was this undercover talk about?"

Steve noticed that Jesse was deadly serious about what he said. "You have a *tattoo*?" he asked in disbelief. He briefly considered he might be talking to a double, but no, he was sure this was Jesse.

"Any problem with that?" came the threatening reply.

Steve shook his head.

Jesse gave him a suspicious look and motioned him to go out on the corridor.

* * *

Back in the lobby, Ralph turned towards them. "Any problems?" he asked.

Both Snake and the other man shook their heads no.

Snake was totally puzzled. The man apparently knew him, and he had called him Jesse. He had said something about going undercover - only minutes before, he had thought he might be an undercover cop. So the other one probably was a cop, too. But what had this memory been about, the gun the man had pointed at his face?

His thoughts were whirling. "Excuse me", he said and stumbled up the stairs.

He found an empty bathroom, bowed over the toilet and retched. Everything in his head was turning, and all over his skin, a tingling feeling spread.

Steve. This was the man's name, he was sure.

He was standing in his apartment, holding a baseball bat in his hands, while the back door was opened from outside. He swung the bat, but the intruder dodged the hit and wound the club out of his hands. It was Steve.

Fox came inside the room. "Man, you're looking awful", he said. "Come on, I'll get you over to the other room." He helped him up and supported him as they went out of the bathroom and towards the mattress Snake had already spent two nights on.

"Lay down", Fox said. "Boy, you're totally soaked - and cold as ice. Do you have some kind of pricking sensation on your skin?"

Snake nodded.

Fox stood up and went out on the corridor. "Damn", he hissed and kicked against the wall. He drew a small black case out of his pocket, opened it and took a syringe out. Looking at it with disgust, he went to the bathroom and emptied it into the toilet. "I'm not going to do this to you again", he whispered. He placed the syringe back in the case and went back to the room where Snake lay.

"Listen, man", he said. "I may not have a degree, but I almost finished my training as a paramedic. I have to go back downstairs - for now, just look that you stay warm, and don't move too much. I'll come back later and try and help you."

Snake nodded again, shaking all over.

Fox gave him another concerned look and went downstairs.

* * *

He nodded at Ralph and then silently stood in a corner of the room.

"So this deal has been fulfilled to the satisfaction of everybody involved", Ralph said. "I'm looking forward to our next transaction."

"So are we", said LaTierri. "Will the stuff be ready by tomorrow?"

"The full 20 pounds."

"Great."

Ralph shook hands with them. "You will understand that Axe will bring you back to that alley again."

"Certainly."

* * *

Steve tore the blindfold from his face.

"What was going on in there?" LaTierri asked. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost."

"The small one - I know him. His name is Jesse Travis, and he works as a doctor at the Community General."

"What would a doctor have to do with these guys?"

"I have no idea. The craziest thing was that he didn't seem to recognize me."

"This is weird."

"Weird doesn't even come close, man. I think I have a few calls to make."

* * *

In the hotel, Steve immediately called his father up. "Dad? It's Steve - has Jesse been in the hospital today?"

"No. We've been trying to reach you, you won't believe what happened."

"After all I've seen today, I'll believe a lot."

"Are you telling me you've seen Jesse?"

"Yes - and no. He called himself 'Snake', he said he didn't know who I am, and Dad - he had a tattoo!"

"Steve, do you remember what you told me about the drug that caused Patricia Thornton's death together with the heroin? We've come to the conclusion that it can be used to induce amnesia with humans."

"You mean they gave him this drug?"

"Yes, and probably without the heroin."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"To be honest, I don't know. Have you found out who produces the drug?"

"Not yet, but we arranged a deal with a big amount of the new heroin, and maybe we can meet the big boss soon."

"Do you think you can get Jesse out of there?"

"Not before tomorrow. We don't know where their house is, and they'll fetch us for the deal. I'll call Captain Newman for reinforcement. They can hide at the meeting point and follow us to the house."

"Very good. Be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry, Dad. I just hope Jesse will be fine. Do you know anything about side effects? He didn't look good."

"No, I'm sorry. Let's just hope you can get him out of there in time. Good luck, son."

"Thanks, Dad. Hope to see you tomorrow night."

* * *

"What was wrong with him?" Ralph asked.

"He's showing the first symptoms of the side effects number 14 had", Fox replied.

"The girl with the VC-4?"

"Yes."

"Does he already have cramps?"

"Not yet, but he may get them soon."

"Have you given him the next dose?"

"Yes", Fox lied.

"Well", Ralph said, "we'll see how he reacts on that. Go upstairs and try to keep the symptoms under control. Would be a pity if he died too soon."

Fox went up the stairs, hot anger boiling inside of him. Cold bastard! Hadn't enough people died for this experiment? Ralph knew exactly what would happen to Snake if he received more of the VC-7, and he didn't care.

He kneeled beside Snake, who was unconscious now, taking shallow breaths as he rolled from one side to another. "I just hope I pulled you off the dope soon enough", Fox said.

* * *

Snake knew that he was dreaming. He was standing in the empty lobby of the old house, in the same clothes he'd been wearing in the past two days. Suddenly a strong itch on the skin of his left upper arm made him wince. He took the leather jacket off and dropped it to the floor, then he rolled the sleeve of his t-shirt up. He wasn't too surprised to see the serpent tattoo move - after all, this was a dream, and anything could happen.

The two snakes unwound from the stick and dropped to an imaginary ground, where they coiled around each other, until they looked like one. The new created serpent crept towards the staff again and coiled around it, its head resting on the tip of the stick. Although Snake had to twist his neck to see what was going on, he didn't miss a single movement.

Suddenly the serpent opened its jaws. Snake half expected to be bitten, but the serpent instead started to speak - only four words, but it was like they had opened a sluice, and the memories started flowing back into his mind again. First, Do No Harm. This time, the words made sense. He had vowed this oath not too long ago. The Serpent. Aesculapius. The symbol for almost all fields of modern medicine.

He heard the sirens of an ambulance and stepped through a door in the wall. On the other side, people were running up and down, shouting for doctors, medical devices and free OR rooms. Jesse was calm, knowing exactly what to do. Jesse? Yes, of course. Jesse Travis.

"Only a flesh wound, huh?" Steve stood in front of him, pointing a gun at his forehead. Jesse couldn't move, but he knew it wasn't necessary. With morbid curiosity, he waited for the shot. It didn't even hurt. Blood was dripping down his forehead. No, not blood. Paint. Jesse turned around when he heard two men laugh. Fred O'Malley and Jones. They were standing in the Gotcha warehouse, O'Malley's shirt smeared with the same paint that covered Jesse's face.

"Wouldn't you like to tidy up this mess?" O'Malley asked, and Jesse noticed that it wasn't O'Malley, but Fox. He saw the glass cabinet again, the little clay figures that were in the next instant smashed to dust. He saw himself running up to the old man, his body covered with sweat, a frantic expression on his face. He fiercely beat the man, and this time, he could feel the pain he had caused. It wasn't the physical pain that was so devastating, it was the shame, humiliation and fear that made him sink to the ground beside the old man, gently holding the delicate hand with the broken fingers in his own. Tears ran down his cheek, and the only thing he could say was "sorry". One word, but he repeated it more often than he could count. Still, he knew words couldn't make up for what he had done to the man. "Oh God, I'm so sorry", he whimpered.

"Snake."

Jesse looked up and wanted to tell the other one that his name wasn't Snake. The sight made him stay silent. His eyes opened wide, he gazed at the young boy who was giving him a friendly smile.

"CJ." He kneeled beside the boy and carefully touched him, afraid that he might hurt him with the same hands that had beaten another helpless person before. But CJ didn't show any fear. With glistening black eyes, he showed an open smile, stroking Jesse's head.

"Snake", he repeated. Jesse wanted to tell him to call him Jesse, that Snake was past, nothing more than a scary memory, but CJ's image began to fade.

"CJ", he said, trying to hold the boy, trying not to allow him to leave him alone, but his contours faded, became shapeless, and also the room seemed to flow like a chalk picture in the rain.

"Snake", repeated a voice, but it wasn't CJ any longer. Jesse forced his eyes open and saw Fox' face hovering above him. "Snake, can you hear me?"

"My name's not Snake", he whispered.

"I know that", answered Fox with a frightened look around. "No word, do you hear me? Don't speak. You're too weak to get up, but I'll try to get you out of here. Just don't betray yourself, play along. I have to go now, but I'll be back."

* * *

"What is it?" Ralph covered the lower end of the cell phone with his hand when Fox gestured that he wanted to talk to him.

"He did have the cramps, but he's doing better now."

"Do you mean 23 is going to survive?"

Fox nodded.

Ralph removed his hand from the phone. "Mr. K? I believe I have good news for you. Number 23, the person who displayed progress in both the personality change and aggressive tendencies, suffered from the same side effects as number 14, but he survived. It seems like he's doing better now. We have never come so far - it will be fascinating to watch his further development."

"This is excellent news", came the answer. "I want to see him."

Ralph swallowed. "Do you mean you're -"

"Going to pay you a visit", Mr. K said. "You mentioned a big transaction of the new heroin - I'm interested in seeing our customers, too. After all, I should know who will be selling in my town soon."

The line was disconnected. Ralph put the phone into his pocket and gazed at Fox.

"Get Snake on his feet. In two hours, he must be presentable and looking halfway healthy. Mr. K wants to have a look at the latest progress when he comes to watch the transaction."

Without a word, Fox went up the stairs.

* * *

"Hey man, you have to get up."

Jesse pushed Fox' hand away. "Leave me alone."

"I can't. What do you remember?"

"Everything. Enough, believe me."

"Listen, I'm sorry for all this. But now, you have to trust me. Ralph's boss will come to see you in two hours, and he expects to see Snake."

"What a pity. Snake's gone."

"I believe you don't understand", Fox insisted. "If they notice that you're not affected by their drug any longer, you won't be of any use for them."

Jesse slowly stood up and leaned against the wall. "Drug?"

"They call it Brainstorm. It was responsible for your amnesia and pretty much everything else you did. You're not the first one, but I'll make sure you'll be the last. What about the man yesterday? Did you know him?"

"Why should I tell you? You'll go and tell Ralph."

"No!" Fox' face showed a desperate expression. "You have to trust me. I was supposed to give you the Brainstorm last night, but I didn't - it would have killed you. If Ralph finds out, he'll kill me before he gets rid of you. So why should I lie at you now?"

Jesse rubbed his temples. "I don't know. I don't know anything right now. What do you want me to do?"

"Be Snake when the others are around. If you can deceive them long enough, we'll sooner or later have a chance to get away and send the police here before they can hide everything."

"Would they get Ralph's boss?"

"Mr. K?" Fox shook his head. "Oh no, he's careful. He almost never shows up here - it would connect him to this business."

"You said he'd be here in two hours."

"Yes, to supervise the heroin deal."

"Fantastic, so he will be here when the police arrives."

Fox gave Jesse an asking glance. "What do you mean? The man from last night?"

Jesse nodded. "Steve Sloan. He's my friend, and he's a cop, working on a murder and drug thing undercover."

"What murder?"

"A girl who died from a mixture of heroin and - wait, was that your drug?"

Fox bowed his head. "Number 22", he said sadly. "Do you know her name? Ralph never tells us much."

"It's Patricia. But this doesn't help her now."

"No, you're right. But we can help a lot others who'd otherwise suffer the same fate. Let's start with you, okay? And by the way - what's your name?"

"It's Jesse. And do you have a real name?"

"Of course I do. Before I got involved in this, I was Mike. But I'm Fox until we're back in normal life."

"Okay."

Fox pulled him over to a corner of the room, like he was afraid of people eavesdropping their talk. "So what about your undercover friend? How much does he know? He seemed to be surprised to see you here."

"He had no idea that I was here. And he didn't understand why I didn't recognize him. But if he acts like a customer, he must be after Ralph, maybe even his boss, and he'll be prepared when he comes here."

"Can he help us?"

"I hope so. But we'll have to help him, too. He must arrest Ralph and his boss, and we have to make sure that he and his partner have the possibility to do this. Will Mr. K have some kind of bodyguard with him?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe one man, but if he brings somebody, this man will be dangerous."

"Probably all we can do is warn him. Maybe it'll help him to know that we're on his side."

"How do you want to tell him? The others will notice it", Fox wanted to know.

"I have no idea", Jesse said frankly, "but I hope I'll come up with something in time."

* * *

Mr. K arrived early. He was an absolutely inconspicuous person, a man of average size in his late forties, with short greyish hair that started to grow thinner, and brown eyes - a face to see and forget. A quiet, tall man accompanied him who wasn't introduced to anybody in the house.

Ralph sent Ripper to get Fox and Snake downstairs.

They quickly followed the order, and Snake stood in front of Mr. K without saying a word.

"Hello Snake", Mr. K started. "I've been told you did some good work in the past days, although you didn't feel good."

"Never felt better", Snake shot a short reply.

"No skin irritations, dizziness, cramps?"

"I was sick last night, but I'm fine now", Snake replied, trying to show incomprehension and irritation about Mr. K's questions.

"Fine, fine", the man replied. He nodded towards Ralph. "We'll discuss a few things later on", he said. "Have the customers arrived yet?"

Outside, the sound of an engine approached and then died down.

"I believe they're here", Ralph said with a smile.

* * *

Steve was fighting the urge to look over his shoulder while he and LaTierri went into the building. He knew that backup was right around the corner, but somehow it would have calmed him to see proof for this.

When they entered the lobby, Steve spotted Jesse standing in a corner with a red-haired man. Steve studied his face, and Jesse returned the look without any of the hostility he had showed last night. Something was different today - the hunted, puzzled expression had vanished from his face and made place for wariness mixed with excitement.

Steve frowned - he could have sworn that Jesse had just winked at him. But right now, he was distracted by the sight of a man he hadn't seen before.

Judging from the behaviour of Ralph and the others, he was the man they had been looking for. Steve couldn't believe that they could be so lucky. He had expected to lose the boss now that they had to get Jesse out of this place, but in the very occasion that they had brought backup, the man who seemed to be responsible for the distribution of heroin and the production of a strange other drug was present, too. A quick glance at LaTierri confirmed that his colleague had been thinking the same.

Steve looked around to evaluate the situation. Except from Ralph and his boss, there were seven others in the room - the boss' bodyguard, at least that was what he looked like, Jesse and the man standing beside him, the two men who had fetched them from their meeting point, and two others who wore the typical blue jeans and leather jackets. This meant nine against two, until the backup arrived.

Ralph stepped towards them, a broad smile on his face. "Good morning, gentlemen", he said. "Are we ready?"

Steve nodded. "We are if you are." He pointedly looked at the man with the bodyguard, and Ralph understood.

"This is Mr. K", he said. "He will be able to help you if you want to settle here and continue doing your business."

"I'm sure we will come to an acceptable agreement about the conditions", Mr. K said.

"But first, let's make the deal", Ralph said. "Fox, please get the case."

The man standing beside Jesse briefly left the room and returned with an attaché case. He handed it to Ralph and went into the corner again, as if he wanted to stay as close to Jesse as possible.

When Steve watched them, Fox returned his look with an expression that was similar to Jesse's but filled with more fear than excitement. The other men in the room were as calm as they had always been when they had met, and Steve wondered what reason Jesse and Fox had to be so nervous.

"When we have completed this trade", he said with a sidelong glance at Jesse, "we should meet somewhere to discuss the details. I own a cosy little barbeque restaurant, perfect for a meeting."

"I think there are better places for this than a restaurant, even if you own it", Ralph replied, but Steve didn't pay much attention to his answer. He inconspicuously looked at Jesse, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

Steve didn't know why, but Jesse now seemed to remember. Whatever drug they had given to him, it didn't show any effect anymore. Now Jesse made a slight, casual movement towards Fox, and Steve understood that Fox was on their side in some way.

Ralph opened the case and motioned at the heroin inside. "This is our part of the deal", he said.

Steve looked at LaTierri, who was carrying a backpack. Of course, they didn't have the money to pay for 20 pounds of pure heroin, and the bag was stuffed with newspaper shreds. When they opened it, the other men would be the first to draw their weapons, so Steve already looked for cover while LaTierri placed the backpack on a table. They both stepped back.

"And this is our part", Steve said. Jesse and Fox now each slowly went towards another gang member, and he understood that they would disarm them when the moment had come.

Ripper opened the backpack. He stopped short when he tried to identify the content, and then he looked up. "Paper", he hissed.

* * *

A thousand things seemed to happen at a time. Ralph, Axe, Blade, Snipes and Ripper drew their guns, just like Steve and his colleague. Both policemen dived into cover, and Jesse and Fox quickly stepped towards the gang members that stood closest to them.

Blade was so surprised that he reacted too slowly when Fox tore the gun out of his hand. A hit in his neck with the butt end of the pistol, and Blade didn't mean any danger anymore.

When Snipes spun around to see what was happening to Blade, his face had a close encounter with Jesse's fist. Although he still felt weak, Jesse sent the man to the ground with another precisely placed hit.

Now Fox and Jesse were both armed with two pistols, but Axe and Ripper were warned, and a shooting was in full swing in the lobby.

Jesse looked for Steve, who was crouching behind the table he and the other cop had tipped over for cover. He and Fox were offering an easy target, so he shoved the other man over to the fridge and opened the door to hide behind it.

* * *

Bullets buzzed through the room, and Steve tried to get an overview. Jesse and his friend had really disarmed and knocked out two of the men, which meant it was now five of the others against the four of them. This wasn't ideal, but a lot better than it had been only seconds ago.

The officers who had followed them for reinforcement had to have heard the shots, and Steve expected them to storm the building within a few seconds. But for now, they had to stay alive and keep their position.

"Jesse, stay in cover!" he shouted, fearing that his friend was now encouraged to try another brave but stupid action.

"Are you kidding?" came the answer. "I'm not suicidal!"

Steve grinned. That was what he had wanted to hear. When the gunfire decreased for a second, he left his cover and tried to sneak behind Mr. K's bodyguard.

* * *

Jesse was determined not to leave his safe place, but when he peered over the edge of the fridge door, he saw how Steve dashed through the room. He also saw Axe aiming his pistol at Steve's back.

Pushing Fox further behind the refrigerator, Jesse spurted over to Axe, who stood with his back toward him. For want of a better idea, he kicked him in the hollow of his knee and wound the pistol out of his hand when the man lost his balance.

Before Jesse could do anything else, Axe was standing on his feet again and turned towards him. Despite his bulky stature, he was very fast, and his fist hit Jesse's chest with the force of a sledgehammer.

Jesse writhed, but at the same time dropped to the ground and rolled out of Axe's reach. Using the drive of his movement, he got to his feet, ducking in the expectation of another hit.

When Axe approached him with slow steps, his arms lifted like an attacking bear, Jesse realized that they were now both unarmed. Bullets missing them by a hair's breadth, they met in the centre of the room.

* * *

Without noticing what was going on at the other side of the room, Steve quickly crept towards the bodyguard who was covering the whole room with a rain of bullets.

"Freeze!" he said when he was standing right behind him. As he had expected, the man spun around and wanted to fire at him, but Steve was faster. The shot hit the man in the right arm and made him drop the gun. Steve punched him in the face, but his opponent seemed to stand a lot. Using his left hand, he grabbed Steve's throat and choked him.

When he noticed that he couldn't loosen the hand around his neck, Steve pressed the muzzle of his pistol against the man's abdomen, strong enough to make him feel it. Immediately, the pressure decreased, and the man stepped back. As a paid bodyguard, he wasn't willing to die for his boss. Steve cuffed him and checked him for hidden weapons, then he turned to see how the situation in the room had developed.

He held his breath when he saw Jesse standing in front of Axe, who was almost a foot taller than he, and at least 80 pounds heavier.

* * *

Jesse looked into Axe's eyes, which now seemed completely black. A superior grin spread on the giant's face.

"Looks like the Beach Boy is back", he said, and Jesse remembered the encounter with the three men on Sunday. He realized that Axe had been one of them - the leader with the baseball bat.

"Back and prepared", he replied. "I believe I have a score to settle with you."

"You? With me?" Axe laughed.

Jesse hoped that he didn't look as horrified as he felt. He didn't give himself the slightest chance against this man, but nevertheless, he tried to recall what he had learned in the Wing Tsun training. He didn't care about hurting Axe or not, but the physical principles were still present in his mind.

He stood with bent knees, legs apart, and relaxed his shoulders. Concentrating only on his opponent, he completely forgot about the shooting around him.

When Axe attacked him, he looked into his eyes, trying to figure out how he would move. Axe relied on his body mass and strength and crashed into him head-on. At least he tried - Jesse quickly stepped aside and made a 90- degree turn to offer as little surface as possible. Thus he distracted most of the power of the impact, but Axe had noticed the manoeuvre soon enough to change direction. The force of his own movement made him crash to the ground, and he took Jesse with him.

Because he hadn't faced the man but turned away, Jesse managed not to be buried under the huge body, but his left arm, which Axe had grabbed, wasn't that lucky.

At first, he didn't feel any pain, but when Axe rolled off his arm and the blood started to circulate again, something seemed to explode in his elbow. He writhed and curled up, desperately thinking of a way to avoid Axe's next attack, which had to happen very soon. He looked up - and saw Fox wrestling with the blond man. Where the hell are all those bullets coming from when everybody's having a little boxing-match?, he thought.

Holding his left arm, he stood up and hurried over to the fighting men to help Fox.

* * *

When Steve saw how Axe attacked Jesse, he dashed over to them, but several pieces of furniture blocked his way, and he had to dodge the bullets that were flying between LaTierri, Mr. K, Ralph and Ripper. Before he had reached them, Fox had already come to help, but it didn't look like he was a match for the blond giant. In the next instant, Jesse was back on his feet and jumped at Axe's back. Axe shook him off immediately, but then Steve planted in front of him.

"Freeze!"

Axe gazed at him and shook his head, obviously not intending to follow the order, but all of a sudden, men dressed in black uniforms and armed with rifles stormed the lobby. Within seconds, they had overwhelmed the gangsters, and the leader of the team came towards Steve.

"What took you so long?" Steve asked.

"What do you call long?" the policeman replied. "We had to keep a certain distance, but as soon as we heard the shots, we got out of the truck and went inside. This can't have taken us longer than 20 seconds, maybe."

Steve looked at the mess in the lobby. He couldn't believe that all this had happened within a few seconds.

Low laughter made him turn around. Fox and Jesse were talking, and obviously, something was quite funny.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Oh", replied Jesse. "We only agreed how good it was that we all stayed in cover."

Steve grinned. "I see. Why did you do this anyway?"

Jesse's expression became serious. "You were about to get an Axe in your back."

Steve understood. "Thank you", he said. Then he noticed that Jesse was holding his left arm. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Guess I broke my elbow", Jesse said with a crooked smile. "Don't worry, no permanent damage."

"Unlike something else on your left arm", Steve replied, pointing at the approximate position of the tattoo below the jacket. "Oh, and just to clear this up - am I talking to Snake or Jesse?"

"Jesse Travis to your service. Thanks to Fox - or rather Mike."

Steve shook hands with Mike. "Looks like we owe you something. But let's discuss this later, okay? I believe we have to get Mr. Plissken to the hospital - and you look like you should see a doctor, too." He motioned at a red stain on his jeans.

Mike looked at his leg. "Oh. I hadn't even noticed it, can't be so bad. But aren't you going to arrest me?"

"For now, I only see the man who saved my friend. You will have to take the responsibility for whatever else you did, but I'm sure we can work that out."

Mike nodded in relief. "Thank you."

"Uh, Mike?" Jesse asked.

"Yes?"

"Does the Brainstorm have a pain-relieving effect?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well", Jesse answered through clenched teeth, "I believe this effect is fading, too."

"And I already wondered", Steve grinned. "Come on, you two. Let's go."

* * *

Jesse sat on a chair in the treatment room, his arm resting on a pad on his lap. The cast around it was still wet, and he had had to take his shirt off because the cast reached from his hand up over his elbow.

He looked up when somebody knocked on the door. Amanda was standing in the frame, holding a heap of files under her arm.

"Hi", she said. "I was told you were here, and I wanted to say hello and see how you're doing."

"Hey Amanda", Jesse replied. "Good to see you."

"I heard you had a few adventurous days", she said. "Are you sure that you're okay again?"

"Yes, sure. Else I wouldn't be sitting here."

Amanda came closer, turning her head as if she was looking for something.

"Steve certainly has told you everything, so why are you so concerned? What are you looking for?"

Amanda had circled him and was now standing on his left side. Suddenly, she started jumping up and down with a shrill chuckle.

"What -? Oh, the tattoo." Jesse sighed in defeat.

"I couldn't believe it when Steve told me, but it's really true." She carefully touched the picture. "Are you going to have it removed?"

Jesse shook his head. "No, it's somewhat cool. For now, I'll keep it."

"Any more surprises?" Amanda grinned.

"None you'd ever see", Jesse replied.

"Which means, there are some?"

"No, and now get out, you harpy. Who sent you? The nurses?"

Amanda put an innocent face on. "I have no idea what you mean. But I have to admit that there's a rumour going the round."

"What rumour?" Jesse asked alertly.

"Oh, nothing. You said there are no surprises, and I believe you. But I'm supposed to get you to your room - they want to keep you here for the night as you might suffer after-effects from the Brainstorm."

Jesse was still suspicious, but Amanda's explanation sounded reasonable. "Okay."

Amanda took the lead and went to the door. After half of the distance, she suddenly dropped the papers. With a sigh, she started to collect the files from the floor.

"Wait, I'll help you." Jesse bowed down and picked some sheets up with his right hand.

Suddenly Amanda was standing behind him.

"Yes", she chortled, "I knew it."

Jesse realized that he had been taken in, and with an indignant moan, he straightened himself. "Oh no", he said desperately. "That was a mean trick, Amanda!"

"Maybe, but you wouldn't have showed me. May I see the whole thing?"

Jesse put his hands on his back where a small part of the winged dragon could be seen above the rim of his jeans. "No!" he called. Then, after a quick look towards the door, he whispered, "this is my private sphere."

Amanda chuckled. "It wasn't for the person who made this tattoo." She gave him a begging look. "Oh Jesse, please. Only a short look. Or do I have to tell the nurses?"

"Amanda, I'm a doctor. You'll undermine every bit of respect they have for me."

"You don't know much about women. This doesn't have anything to do with respect - or did you know that Dr. White is pierced?"

Jesse's jaw dropped open. "He must be over 60 years old. Where would a man like him have a piercing?"

"He's 63. And -" she came closer and whispered something into his ear.

"You're kidding."

Amanda shook her head. "Believe me, this is confirmed. So, do you think your little tattoo is that spectacular?"

"Only a short look."

"Very short." Amanda closed the blinds at the window.

Jesse looked at her and blushed. "This is embarrassing", he said.

"It would be embarrassing if it was an anchor or a teddy-bear."

Murmuring something unintelligible, Jesse opened his pants and pulled them down only far enough to show the dragon on his back, with the tip of the tail at the left side of his hip, the head and the claws holding the sword on the right.

"Wow." Amanda gazed at the picture. "This is bigger than I thought. The sword - how long is it?"

"Hey, you won't see the whole sword. The dragon is more than enough."

"And you did that voluntarily?"

Jesse shrugged. "I liked the picture."

"You're right, it's beautiful. But it's so big - does it still hurt?"

Jesse grinned and pulled up his pants. "Like hell. Hey, I haven't seen Mike since I was X-rayed. How's he doing?"

"Mike? Oh, Fox. It was only a graze, Steve took him to the station. I believe he will have to answer a few questions."

"I just hope he'll be out soon. In the few days that I was with them, he never did anything worse than I did."

"I don't believe you have to worry about this. Right now, it's your health you should be concerned about. I'm really supposed to get you to a room so that you get some rest." She motioned towards the door, but Jesse hesitated.

"I could need a shirt or something. I guess mine's in the trash, and I'm not going to run around like this."

"Take this, it's not that far to your room." Amanda took off her white coat and handed it to Jesse, who gratefully donned it.

Jesse yawned. He didn't remember haven gotten any real sleep in the past days. For all he knew, it had half been drug-inducted sleep, half plain unconsciousness.

He let Amanda guide him down the corridor and to the elevator, not caring about the amused looks from some people. He didn't even turn around when somebody made a hissing sound behind him. His fame as Snake had really travelled fast.

* * *

With a sigh, Jesse leaned back and closed his eyes. Amanda smiled. He had only managed to put his shoes off after he had sat down on the bed, and now he was lying there, his sound right arm hanging from the bed, and started to snore in the instant that his head touched the pillow.

She regarded the two serpents on his left arm. Snake. She knew that she couldn't even start to imagine what he had gone through. Waking up without a single memory, without knowing who he was, and among people who made him do things like robbing stores and beating up people. Jesse wasn't the person to hurt somebody else, he had proved this often enough, and only the VC-7, the seventh version of Brainstorm, had made him so aggressive that he had had to release the tension somehow. But even then, nobody had been able to make him hurt anybody seriously.

She marvelled what he had thought during all that time. She had no idea what it might feel like to suffer from amnesia, having no past that explained how he had become the person that he was, and facing a present that was formed by people who didn't have anything good for him in mind.

Amanda pulled the blanket up to Jesse's chest, took his right arm and placed it on the mattress. Slowly shaking her head, she then threw a last glance at him and left the room.

* * *

Mark had insisted to keep him in the hospital until there was no trace of the Brainstorm left in his blood, and now, two days after the memorable showdown in the lobby of the old house, he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the results from the lab.

The door opened, and Mike looked inside. "Hi - may I come in?"

"Yes, of course." Jesse stood up and greeted him with a firm handshake and a pat on his shoulder. "Good to see you - what did Steve say?"

"The trial hasn't been held yet, but Steve says I'll probably get out on probation, and I'll have to do social work for quite a while. I talked to Dr. Sloan - he said that I can work my hours here in the Community General."

"That's great news! Hey, you said that you almost finished your training as a paramedic. I'm sure that you can finish it here and get a real job in the hospital - if you want to."

"If I -? Of course I do!"

Mark entered the room, a file in his hand. "Good news, Jesse. You can go home, the results are absolutely all right. Oh, good morning, Mr. Rouse."

Mike nodded. "Dr. Sloan."

"Jesse, you should drive home and have a few quiet days."

"I don't believe I'll drive anywhere", Jesse said and lifted his left arm.

"I'll give you a ride", Mike quickly said.

"Great, thanks!"

"Keep away from those stores, okay?" Mark smiled.

Jesse growled and showed his teeth in a broad grin. "Ah, maybe we'll rob a bank today."

"Get out before I have to call the police", Mark said amusedly.

* * *

"Hey, could we stop by somewhere before you take me home?" Jesse asked when they were sitting in Mike's car.

"Sure, where?"

"First I have to buy something, and then I want to apologize to somebody."

Mike nodded. He had an idea what Jesse was talking about. "By the way", he asked. "Do you know what exactly Mr. K produced Brainstorm for?"

"Hasn't anybody told you?"

"Not in the time that I've been working for Ralph. Steve probably knows, but I didn't ask him."

"This Mr. K has several other alias names, fewest of them starting with K. For all I know, he wanted to sell it to several small countries - it's hard to believe, but there are actually some dictators in tiny states who try and create an army that is big and powerful enough to conquer neighbouring countries."

Mike shook his head. "Boy, this is sick. And he really wanted to sell them Brainstorm? Not that it would have helped them with their strange plans, but the drug is really dangerous, as you have experienced."

"Yeah. I can't tell you how glad I am that you didn't give me another shot."

"And still it makes me sick that I worked with them at all." Mike pointed at a shop outside. "Our first stop", he said.

* * *

A few minutes later, they entered the small Chinese shop they had visited a few days ago.

The owner, who was standing behind the counter, greeted them with a friendly smile, and Jesse realized that he didn't recognize them. This didn't exactly make it easier for him.

Carrying a big cardboard box under his right arm and accompanied by Mike, he went towards the old man whose right arm was encased in a cast.

"What can I do for you?" the man asked.

"Actually, we hoped that we could do something for you", Jesse replied.

The shop owner's expression stayed friendly, but now he seemed to be puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Jesse had almost turned on his heel and left the store, but then he pulled himself together. "I fear I did something very stupid", he said, "and I'm here to make up for it. I'm not sure if this is of any use for you, but if there's anything else I can do for you, just tell me." He placed the box on the counter and opened it.

Still not understanding what the young man was talking about, the shop owner bowed over the box and looked inside.

"Oh." Surprise and beginning comprehension united on his face when he regarded the little clay figures inside. He carefully took one out with his sound hand and turned it in the light that fell through the shop windows. "You are the angry young man", he said to Jesse.

Jesse blinked in surprise. He wouldn't exactly have used this expression. His image of himself on this day was more that of a raging idiot. "I wasn't quite myself", he explained, "but nevertheless, it was wrong what I did. And I'm really sorry for what happened to your hand. I hope you can forgive me."

"May I add that I was the third man?" Mike said. "This is difficult to explain, but mainly, it was my responsibility."

"I felt that what you did wasn't what you wanted", the old man replied with a smile, "but I have to admit that I am surprised to see you here today. You both seem -" he paused as he looked for the right word, "clearer now."

"Clearer?" Jesse let the word work on himself. Yes, this described pretty well how he felt. He nodded. "You couldn't have chosen a better word."

Mike made a sheepish grin. "Replacing the broken items probably doesn't make up for the real damage you suffered, but it was the best idea we could come up with."

"And it's the idea that counts, is that not what you say?" the shop owner replied in a friendly voice. "I believe we should talk. I was going to have a cup of tea, would you like to join me?"

Soon they were sitting in a back room of the store, each of them holding a cup of green tea.

"If there is anything else we can do for you -" Mike said.

"Really, I appreciate your offer, but I can't think of anything."

"What about your arm? You might need some help in the store, maybe somebody who carries the heavy things for you."

"Well, that's true."

Mike turned towards Jesse. "It will take a while until the trial is held. Until then, I'm out on bail, and I could do something useful."

Jesse shrugged. "Sounds like a good idea", he replied.

Mike smiled at the old man. "You have just found an assistant for the next few weeks."

* * *

When they stepped out on the street, a boyish grin parted Jesse's lips.

"What is it?" Mike wanted to know.

"Call it an after-effect of the drug, but for some reason I feel the need to go and buy a motorbike."

"You mean, like cutting the sleeves of your t-shirt and showing off with your tattoo?"

"Exactly."

Mike pulled bowless sunglasses out of the pocket of his jacket and placed them on his nose with an exactly measured gesture. A broad grin on his face, he replied, "I'll drive."

* * *