Author's Note: Okay, second chappie's here. You'll see I've used a few unseen characters that actually stick to their role, so I guess that my interpretations will be of your liking. If they're not, then I'm sorry... Really, I can't stress it enough. Judging by the log in the DS official site, I have tweaked Reinhardt and Sklar's personalities so that the voices suit them. Same goes for Samara (whom we still haven't seen or heard of). Anyway, enjoy reading!^^

Disclaimer: I do not own Dead Space; copyright goes to Visceral Games.


II

Matters to Resolve

Attention: Dr. Samara Yasmin is requested in West Psychology Wing, please report there immediately. Repeat...

But Samara Yasmin didn't register the PA system's voice, not even a single syllable or sound. What she cared about was filing her report as soon as she could; she could allow herself no distractions. Samara quickly gathered her hair up in a haphazard tail and kept writing non-stop, making brief pauses to check and revise other reports to gather the necessary information. It was right when she wrote the actual date (January 5th, 2510) that her assistant, Jack Nichols, peeked inside as he knocked on the door of her office. With no remarks, Samara looked up as she placed the final stop and tilted her head at Jack.

"You're requested in Psychology, doctor," he reminded her, his tone ginger. Samara was as quick as always to stand up and slip out of her office, Jack having fallen in line behind her in silence. After a few seconds, she asked,

"What's this all about? I think I haven't heard this much ruckus in months, not since we got Keller inside." Her suspicions were proven correct the farther they went into the complex and neared the elevator that would take them a floor down: for some reason, she had the feeling they'd be bagging a new intern.

"We've been brought another patient," said Jack, making Samara's heart sink to her boots. The elevator reached their floor with a dull ding, but Samara wasn't listening to that. Instead, she focused on the voices she heard coming from the lower floor, voices full of alarm and despair as far as she could judge. "And believe me, I don't think we've seen people like him."

"You've already seen him?" asked Samara as she and Jack stepped inside the elevator and started their trip downstairs. Jack nodded, still sheepish.

"On my way up here. They're keeping him at the end of hall 2B, Cell 205... or they're at least trying to," he told her, looking down at his hands whilst Samara kept looking at him. Her gaze soon became unfocused as she wondered what the state of this new patient was. Knowing how protocol was followed, the most dangerous of patients were kept in cells at the end of the halls so that they weren't close to the halls should they attempt to escape, but not many had proven to be so reckless and frenzied. In fact, many of their patients were already following normal lives; even Samara herself had seen some of them in the streets of the colony.

What could have gotten this one?

Before she could notice, they were already at their destination. The same moment Samara stepped a foot outside, a deep horrified scream pierced the silence and echoed throughout the whole floor, rooting Samara to her spot and instilling a sense of fear she had never experienced before. Sure, she could've been afraid at patients that at first had seemed dangerous, but the fear she felt this time was much different, of a more intricate nature. With wide eyes she stared at the end of the hall, watching how a trio of security guards and two strangers were trying to keep another man inside his cell, but it was almost to no avail: this man kept fighting against his restraints with almost brute strength and conviction. She witnessed how the apprehended man made his way out of the barricade of people, seemingly having escaped, but he only took a mere step before tripping over and being pinned against the wall.

Samara was prompted to make a dash towards the group of people because of something she couldn't describe, but she still did. At midway she reduced her speed and approached the group with caution and apprehension, being another part of the scene that was taking place right in front of her eyes. Shouts continued to be the only sound she heard, also orders exchanged between her staff and the strangers, and there came a moment when Samara herself thought she'd have to leave. The man screamed about someone, a 'she', in need of assistance, in need of mourning, and he spoke of that at the top of his voice, struggling to break free once more.

"Hold him down, dammit! Stan, we need sedatives here!" said Jack, stepping forward to help, but nothing worked. In the end, the man -presumably her new patient- almost calmed down without the need of morphine but kept hyperventilating, his breathing loud and labored, and then Samara caught sight of his eyes. They were empty of all emotion save for horror and despair, possibly even determination. Then the two strangers stepped back. Samara shot a quick glance at them and then back at the newcomer, who shrank against the corner and hid his face from view.

"She... she needs my help... I-I have to get back to her, she's calling for me!" he chanted, his voice muffled and quivering. Samara knelt in front of him, laid a hand on his forearm as a comforting gesture, and he suddenly perked up his head, his bright teary eyes staring into hers. "Why'd you bring me here? I'm supposed to-to help her, dammit!

"I-I can't stay here!"

Samara closed her eyes, frowning and knowing he was looking for some kind of positive remark, something that would rekindle his hope, but there were no good news to deliver. At first, she said, "I'm going to help you get back to her, don't worry. You just have to listen to me, okay? You're safe here."

But he hastily shook his head. "No, no I'm not safe. I was safe with her, the nightmare is over but it will not end, it's not over, it's not over-"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Samara insisted, keeping a close eye on him. "You just have to stay here temporarily."

"For how long?"

Samara didn't respond immediately, knowing full well he couldn't and wouldn't cope with the truth so soon, but his eyes just begged for an answer. "For as long as necessary till you feel better. You're injured, we need to heal your wounds. I'll be back with you shortly, okay?"

That seemed to do some good. In the next few minutes, the man finally allowed himself to be locked up (without his actual knowing) and Samara's staff calmed down and returned to normal. Samara then focused her attention on the two strangers, who hadn't said a word during the whole scene.

"Are you the ones that brought him here?" she asked in the end, calling their attention. The tallest of them, a fair-skinned blue-eyed man, nodded at Samara and faced her.

"Yes; we just arrived today. Captain Maxmillian Reinhardt, Recovery Patrol X22376," he said, spreading out a hand which Samara shook with strength. "This is my second-in-command, Xander Sklar." Samara, as she shook hands with Xander, took in his appearance: amber eyes, black hair, apparently in his thirties and didn't seem too suspicious. Stealing one last glance at Maxmillian, Samara finally settled for her first opinion: she'd clash with this man many times should they meet again.

"Where did you find him?" she asked Maxmillian.

"Yothei system, almost twenty light years off here," he replied, succinct, and Samara frowned. The Yothei system was quite close to the Cygnus system, where the Aegis7 cluster was, and knowing what had happened there... Samara was already starting to have her suspicions about this newly-interned man.

"Do you have information on him? I'll have to prepare a medical report, why don't you come upstairs to my office?" she suggested, treading carefully. Maxmillian nodded without a word, so did Xander, and they headed back to the upper floor. The elevator ride was uncomfortable for Samara, and maybe even more when she asked, "So, EarthGov, right?"

She glanced back at Maxmillian, who met her gaze with an apparent lack of interest. Quite the laid-back guy, it seemed. With a quick peek at Xander, she could tell he'd also grown tense.

"Yes. Do we really have a display sign behind our heads?" jested the captain with a tilt of his head. Samara smiled out of courtesy, but oh how she would've liked to reply someway else.

"No, not exactly, but I've heard about X22376," she said with a light shrug. "My brother works at the docks; he's an engineer and takes care of... non-living recoveries." Playing cards without seeing them was something Samara never liked to do, but knowing these people were from EarthGov suddenly reminded her of the black blood there was between her and her brother, Rick. It was because of her firm faith and hope that he drifted away from her.

In that moment, the elevator's doors opened and Samara was more than glad to get out of that claustrophobic place. With a firm stance and gait, she crossed the hall to her office, accompanied by Maxmillian and Xander who followed closely behind. Finally taking advantage of the placement of the console under her doorknob (console which was at waist-height), she punched in her personal code and opened the door for both men.

"Shall we get down to business? I don't think it'll be long before he's assigned to me," Samara once more suggested with a thin voice. She knew she couldn't fake her true feelings very well, again getting that feeling because of the intense gleam of distrust in Maxmillian's gaze (though who knew? Maybe it was just her), and decided to keep the act going by sitting in front of her holographic panels.

"Please," she then prompted, gesturing at the seats at the other side of her desk, but only Xander sat; Maxmillian remained standing, and there she had another reason to grow more distrustful. What an awkward situation she'd gotten herself into. Never trust the government, or so her father had told her many times.

"His name is Isaac Clarke, Engineer and System's Specialist affiliated with the C.E.C.," started Maxmillian, folding his arms across his chest. "We dug up some information on him and he's got quite the past. He was assigned to the Kellion when they planned to go fix the Ishimura's blackout, but they were all caught up in the horror. We lost Kendra back there, and he was the only survivor of the whole thing."

Samara's eyes widened behind her glasses. "The Ishimura? By Altman, he must've... He must've seen the Marker, he might've even touched it! He's a lucky one."

"Well, whatever he did, it got him here so I don't think your piece of rock is all that marvelous," snapped Maxmillian, scowling at her. "He's a fucking nutjob now, he's lost it! We found him in a coma, he woke up from it almost a week later and since then he's been bitching and murmuring about it, also sketching Unitologist symbols like crazy; he sometimes couldn't stop sketching. He kept telling us he heard something, something that was really messing up his mind. I swear this is the most shaken-up man I've ever seen in my whole life."

Samara didn't counter Maxmillian's accusations towards the Marker and this Isaac Clarke, but she nevertheless found herself doubting her faith for a moment. Of course, Maxmillian didn't seem like a very trust-worthy person and what was clear was his dislike towards Unitology, so his words were certainly trivial: she had heard about the mass suicide in Union Square around a year ago in the Aegis7 colony, but she was certain those people -including Deakin Abbott- had heard God's voice. Even Samara had wondered when her turn would come. She would ascend and become part of a larger community which didn't have its foundations on the mortal world. Her beliefs wouldn't be changed because of some silly accusations coming from someone who was blind to the true meaning of her and everyone's religion.

"Isaac Clarke..." she echoed absentmindedly as she typed in his name into a new medical file. "I haven't heard anything about him and I certainly don't have any available info." Samara gave a low sigh. "He doesn't seem like he's up for much talk either."

In that moment, Maxmillian stepped forward and laid something under the holomonitor. When Samara had a better look at it, she noticed it was small quadrangular-shaped chip with a sphere in the center of it. She picked it up, pushed a button on its side and the projector flashed to life, showing her what seemed to be Isaac's file. Curious, she looked up at Maxmillian.

"We had one of our superiors fish some files from the C.E.C., with their permission of course." Maxmillian emphasized that last bit with a tinge Samara didn't know how to interpret: either mocking or contemptuous. "You have everything in there: medical history, curriculum, records and some other things we didn't touch," he explained with simplicity. "I take it he'll be interned here for as long as necessary?"

"No other way around this case, captain. It's after determining with precision what's Clarke's state that we'll set the time period." Samara confirmed with a nod. She stood up. "Thank you for your help; I will have everything into consideration." Maxmillian nodded this time.

"If there's anything else you require, you can always catch us at the port. We'll be here for a while till our ship's in condition," he said, his voice lower than before, more sinister. Samara nodded her response once more and with a dip of his head, Maxmillian left her office followed by Xander, who briefly turned around and said,

"Good luck, and Altman be praised."

"Altman be praised," Samara responded, noticing her tone somehow robotic. It had become a routine to say that phrase as farewell but she was somehow glad this man believed in what she held on a high regard. She then focused on reading Isaac's file, which took her quite a bit since there was no rush to be in. And though she already knew, she gaped in surprise at the file when she read about his assignation to the USG Kellion... April, 2508. According to the news, the two ships had been lost because of a terrorist attack on board the Ishimura, not to mention the USM Valor, but Samara knew better than that. According to Overseer Matthews -who was also close colleague and friend of Abbott's-, an engineer patrol had found another Marker on Aegis7 and before planetcrack, the Marker was extracted and carried aboard the Ishimura. She was sure all those people had ascended, had joined God; for a moment, she felt envious. Still, she had yet a lot of time to live her life.

After filing Isaac's report, Samara sighed, stood up and looked outside the window, admiring once more the scenery in front of her. Samara had been working as a psychologist in the Sprawl for more than ten years and though not originally from the colony, she had become familiarized with its structure as though she were a native.

The ambient was, naturally, busy and hectic: people were always going to and fro with things to do, miners and engineers always working around the mines, carrying out operations and extractions, ships docking and transporting the mined materials to planets around space... What was most appealing to her were the many colors the sky tended to show: sometimes yellow, sometimes dark lilac, sometimes both at the same time like that night. And that was a spectacle she never missed.

Samara had always wished to be part of something else, something bigger, and not just because of her religion. She felt confined inside the colony, like a caged bird craving to open its wings and soar the sky. She was native from Gliese, a well-known planet and a famous destination for citizens of the Sprawl. The planet, though famous because of its beaches and numerous services that offered many working positions, was not what Samara had been looking for and as such decided to migrate to the Sprawl in hopes of finding a new life. She found it, studied psychology in the local university in sector 1A5 and found herself a position in the mental hospital where she still kept working, now thirty-seven years of age.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Samara shook her head and after picking up a folder and her notebook, she left her office once more, catching sight of how the health bar of her RIG descended a few centimeters; there went her hundred-percent healthy state. She rubbed her eyes as she called the elevator again and as before, it took her little time to get back to the lower floor. Right when the doors opened, Jack appeared in front of her, his features grave and head a bit low.

"Something wrong, Jack?" she asked, stepping outside. "Any news on Clarke?"

For a moment, Jack seemed surprised. "That's his name?"

Samara nodded. "Yes, Isaac Clarke. Reinhardt handed me some info on him. In any case, what's his status?"

"Freaked out. I've never seen anything like him," he said, shaking his head, something which left Samara as surprised as before. "We had to clean him up with sedatives, doctor; he just wouldn't sit still."

"Did they kick in?" Samara asked, starting down the hall. At her question, Jack shook his head again.

"Not much. He fell asleep for a few minutes before shooting awake and retreating to a corner of the room like a scared child," he replied, wincing slightly. "Though that's not uncommon amongst many of our patients, there's... there's something different in him.

"Something different?" Samara echoed, itching for answers in spite of her suspicions about the case. "Different like what? Are there any similarities between him and other patients we've had so far?"

"Perhaps, I don't remember much," Jack confirmed. "He's just come in, so we'll just have to keep looking. I think he'll be up for the first assessment; the sooner, the better."

Samara couldn't agree anymore with her assistant and once more nodded as she started walking again. After motioning to Jack to stay behind, she looked through the small window into Isaac's room, only to find him having retreated into a corner and still hiding his face from sight, apparently having started to ramble again. Taking a deep breath, Samara entered inside very slowly, giving Isaac some time to recognize her, and he immediately did. He perked up his head, eyes yet wide in horror, and Samara had to swallow to keep herself from leaving.

"When am I going to get out of here?" Isaac asked in a rush, almost reeling it off like he'd rehearsed the question. "I have to leave! She needs my help!" He stood up, spreading out his arms in a sign of honesty and desperation Samara could only frown at. She stepped forward, a knot of anxiety in her stomach, and reached out to lay a hand upon each of his arms.

"It's going to be alright," she said, doubting it'd do anything. "How're you feeling now, Isaac? Are you better?" Samara tried to speak as soothingly as possible so that all would keep calm, avoiding the risk of being attacked. Isaac stared at her blankly, his gaze lost and glazed, then fell to his knees, still clutching Samara's hands. In awe, Samara did nothing but watch.

The assessment transpired without any problems, as opposed to what Samara had originally thought. Given Isaac's state and how shaken up he was, she didn't expect he'd reply to her question with such ease, simple questions about information she already had; it'd be better to keep facts off for the moment. In the end, Samara tried to comfort Isaac by telling him she'd be back by the next day, to which he blankly agreed as she left his room. Whatever Isaac's state was, Samara suddenly knew something had rubbed off on her.

xx

The Three Moons bar, a small quiet locale near the ship docks of the Sprawl where many people came either to drown their sorrows in their drinks or simply have them along someone else. Xander remembered having been there once in a while with his father... who had introduced him to his first shot of alcohol when he was merely eleven. He remembered the taste had been so bad he'd sworn he would never drink anything like that again... and there he was, with a mere glass of sparkling water in his hands; it was nice to see the bar still had its special things from Earth.

In front of him was Maxmillian, who was -contrary to Xander- indeed delighting in a small glass of whiskey. As they enjoyed the silence of the bar -of which they had occupied a far off corner-, Xander's mind wandered off to Isaac again and concern came once more. He remembered the few days Isaac had been with them on the ship and the many that had ended up injured after their attempts to calm him down. An unconscious shiver ran down his spine; he was in a mental hospital now, but who was he to determine if Isaac was safe at all?

"It kinda makes me uneasy to leave him there..." he suddenly said out loud.

As Maxmillian lifted his head ever so slightly to glance at him, Xander met his gaze with a brief look of his own and then allowed it to drift down to his drink again. Crestfallen, he moved the glass in circles, staring absently at the couple of ice cubes swirling around with dull clinks. The sound of Maxmillian's chuckle made him raise his head fully, now staring at his captain in distrust and apprehension. Maxmillian's crooked smirk sent a chill down his spine.

"Well, it's the best place we can leave him... unless you grew fond of him and want him on board again with us? Besides, it was crystal clear Yasmin was also a Marker-Head; I'm sure they'll get along just fine."

Indignant, Xander tilted his head to one side and deepened his frown. "It's not that, it's just..." He sighed. "Nothing, forget it," he then said with a flicker of his hand and a despondent shrug. Again, Maxmillian snorted a laugh and leaned forward, making Xander compose a full list of whatever reasons were keeping him in such a chipper mood.

"C'mon, kid, you know you can trust me," Maxmillian prompted, spreading his hands. "If it's something related to religion or such, you're in good company: I'm an atheist... but I tend to be biased, beware of that."

Before speaking again, Xander pursed his lips, taking a deep breath. "It's just... I keep thinking about Clarke and what you said in front of Dr. Yasmin about the Marker and such -or the piece of rock, as you tend and like to call it," he started in a downbeat mood. "I... Oh, man, my head's a complete mess, I-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, Xan!" Maxmillian suddenly piped up, lifting his hands with an amused smirk. "Keep your ideas clear, boy, and speak aloud."

"I'm starting to have my doubts, Maxmillian, that's it," Xander asserted, slightly banging a hand on the table. "You know I tend to be biased towards Unitology as you are to its opposition; I can't help it, I was raised amongst Unitologists. I think we both saw in Clarke's medical history that there had been no anomalies during his whole career in the C.E.C. -health related, of course- but I just can't see any heads and tails to this situation; look at him, he's a complete nutcase! When you first said it was all because of the Marker, it came as a revelation a little bit too harsh. I've heard a lot of preachings from several people and they've all seemed... normal. I don't know, really..."

"You feel like you want to stop believing but at the same time you ask yourself: what would you do? It'd be like feeling lost," Maxmillian said, his tone making Xander aware of his slight absentmindedness. For a moment, he could even sense a slight degree of melancholy in his words. "Though you want to forget, you're afraid; you think your life wouldn't have any meaning or course."

"You're an atheist but you sure know about religious people and their feelings," Xander shot back, leaning back in his seat.

"It's not about being an atheist or not," Maxmillian replied with a shake of his head; the melancholy had disappeared. "It's about feeling it yourself, though I finally gave myself a good kick in the ass and told myself to forget about the word 'religion' and the many it encompasses. Then, it's just living at your own leisure; let me tell you, you don't have a lot of worries save for those that accost you in your everyday life."

Xander shrugged. "I mean, I've seen zealotry everywhere and I myself don't want to reach that far. It'd be stupid, if you ask me, and that's coming from a devout one."

Maxmillian smiled. "You were always very modest, kid. It wouldn't surprise me if you saved yourself from becoming this kind of fuck-up around here, especially given the fact that we're going to stay here for some time and there's a church."

"Yeah, which is why I recommend we don't lift our voices too much," Xander shot back, absently taking a hand to his chin. He sighed. "I don't think Unitology has as much as it offers."

"Of course they don't have that much, Xander, and you've known that all this time," Maxmillian claimed with a firm nod. "You know EarthGov has always been behind keeping all Rock-related matters under the rug; hell, we even killed Altman so that it all was kept secret, for God's sakes!"

"Keep it down!" Xander suddenly urged, his voice a bare whisper. "I quote you, there's a church here and there's influence everywhere! The last thing we need is trouble!" Whilst Xander started glancing around like paranoid -something he couldn't sometimes help- Maxmillian chortled once more.

"I know, I know," he said, "I'm just stating facts. Oh, and careful where you look... you got the bartender staring at us already." Xander caught glance of said person, who was indeed staring at them sideways, and he swivelled his head around to look down at his glass again, feeling how his cheeks grew warm. "Hell, kid, you're a handful." Then, as Xander looked at him again, he grew serious. "As worried as I am for Clarke -listen well, because you know he's a carbon copy of all the crazed colonists in Aegis7 that went all head-fucked because of the rock-"

"Maxmillian!"

"-we're going to have to kill him."

Xander felt his features paling at an incredible rate, his eyes widening and a painful knot of sickness getting caught in his stomach. "Wh...what?" The gleam in Maxmillian's eyes didn't help at all calm his rising panic. "N-no! I-I won't kill anyone." Xander tried to keep himself from hyperventilating; he'd never thought the moment would come. "Did you get orders from up high?" Noticing how Maxmillian's mouth had dared to twitch into a smirk, Xander rushed to add, "And no puns intended."

Seemingly ignoring his last remark, Maxmillian nodded. "Last time I stood up and went outside wasn't exactly to clear my head: I've kept, until now, Garth's call a secret from you. We still hold Unitology as a purely scientific religion, hence why I make fun of all the Marker-Heads I find in my way and my attitude is like so towards certain matters, and we're going to keep it as such. That doesn't prevent us for covering things at our own leisure, as much as it dismays me to say it. Garth's one of the many that holds Unitology as something else, and Clarke's dangerous for all of them."

"Do we have a time limit?" Xander asked, hiding his trembling hands. "Clarke's just been interned! We can't just rush there and put him out of his misery."

"We're not going to do it ourselves, Xander, that I assure you," said Maxmillian, "not after rescuing him from whatever hell he went through; I'm not that heartless. Right now, our top priority is to maintain these events from the public, and you know which I'm referring to, right?" Xander nodded during Maxmillian's pause. "Clarke knows almost everything, he's rambling about what he saw: the phrases, his behavior, the hallucinations, his mental state... It all matches with what happened to the colonists in Aegis7 and if he actually manages to fully recover -something I highly doubt- and starts spreading the word, we're finished and so is Unitology.

"Try and see it all like everyone in the organization: covering it up is what we are forced to do, not to mention some do it gladly. Think for a moment how much ruckus Clarke's revelations would cause if someone actually took him seriously, which is something I don't doubt the least; I myself would stick right behind him should I have been your average citizen. It'd be complete and absolute pandemonium. Garth and the highs want to keep everyone under their control with no-one to go rogue, Xander. In short and as we'd say, Isaac Clarke is dangerous; he's the rogue element, the missing piece of the puzzle."

Xander looked away in angst, knowing as an EarthGov agent that Maxmillian was right. "I never thought we'd have to do this. It's just like it happened with Altman, like you said."

"He was also dangerous, Xan," Maxmillian spoke with a nod. "The scientists in charge of deciphering the rock's symbols were all from the organization; imagine if everyone knew that thing was alien! Theories would've sprung up, rumors, curious people; it'd all have been a disaster. But then Altman started preaching about it, preaching about eternal life and all that bullshit I staunchly refuse to believe in. We had to dispose of him; if not, I don't know what would've happened but it would've been bad, that's for sure."

"I know that, Maxmillian," Xander said. "It got me by surprise, that's all. What can a man like Clarke do, anyway? He's one against the whole universe! He wouldn't make a single bit of difference!"

"It may be stupid to say that one man can make a difference, but I've seen that with my own eyes," Maxmillian replied, shaking his head. "I didn't sign up to kill people; what they did with Altman was their problem, and you can see his death didn't help people to calm down." He sighed. "But now it's my duty, and I won't fail as an agent. Not when I've got a lot to lose; I'm not risking so many lives over my pride... your life included," he said, the gleam in his eyes telling Xander he was dead serious. With a faint smile, Xander raised his glass and said,

"To atheism."

"So now you're officially a non-believer, huh?" Maxmillian questioned with a smirk before downing his drink. "You surprise me; you change fast."

"I'm not done with Unitology yet; I may have to get some advice from the Overseer," Xander shot back after taking a small swig of his own. Maxmillian coughed after putting down his glass, giving Xander a small hint of what had just happened.

"Advice? From the Overseer?" Xander couldn't list the reason of Maxmillian's disbelief, but he sure got a clue. "Go ahead, be my guest, but I suggest you prepare yourself: you're going to laugh your ass off, and I'm not kidding. Everything I've told you, he'll definitely turn it upside down, transform it in a typical preaching for you to keep in line like a good puppy."

"Don't be so radical, captain," Xander said, his tone much calmer. "I said I'd listen, not heed it. I still have a lot of things to see and judge for myself, some files to read and a bit of research to do. I'm not going to be fooled any longer; I won't allow it. Though..."

"Though what?" Maxmillian insisted, his typical crooked smirk plastered across his weary features again. "You're not thinking of causing ruckus, are you? We'd get kicked out of the Gov in no time and that is not something I'd recommend. We still have our lives to maintain and I have my taxes to pay, so do you."

Xander remained pensive for a minute, thoughts racing through his head, until he finally set his glass down and looked into Maxmillian's eyes, holding his gaze for a brief but long moment. Once more, Maxmillian widened his smirk.

"I think you're thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Tongue-twister, huh?" Xander jested, genuinely smiling.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch out of impatience, Xander; we don't know what Garth's gonna say about most of this matter, but we have one thing certain: this job goes for someone else." Maxmillian shot back, leaning back in his seat. "We just have to wait till we get assigned some other task; in the meantime, free as birds... relatively."

And so, Xander had to agree. With no information, no orders and no progress, patience was all they had. Xander knew that, with time, the chaotic mess that were his thoughts would get cleared up.

Patience was the key; there was still unfinished business to take care of.


A/N: So, that builds up a bit more of the situation behind the whole "Killing Isaac" thing, considering (I think) EarthGov is after him. Next time, we deal with how Isaac's holding up and a bit of a build-up of the start of DS2. That will be long, too, so you're in for a read. Oh, any typos - tell me xD

Reviews are appreciated!^^