Evening everyone! Sorry for the long wait, I hope I make up for that with this extra long chapter! I really hope you enjoy this, a lot happens here! Usual warnings really – noncon in a dream sequence.

Thanks for all the comments about my mum. Means a lot.

Thanks to Amy and Charlotte for their help with this one.

Purifying Flame

Chapter Four

Michael was sitting on a low stone wall, keeping out of the way of any prying eyes. His mask was placed beside him, one of only a few recent times he had removed it out of the safety of his, and her, quarters. It was dark now, Michael hadn't even noticed when that had happened. How long had he been sat outside there, anyway? He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath, and clear his head. It was a futile effort. All he could see was the boy, Jonas' crumpled body falling to the ground a few feet away from him, as his older brother's traumatised scream chilled him to the bone, when he realised that the young man was dead. The guilt and horror had seized Michael in that moment and hadn't let him out of it's grip since. That boy had died for nothing, and the woman he loved had ordered his death as calmly as if she had asked for a glass of water. Killing had become second nature to her.

It had been second nature to him too. How many men, women and children had he killed on her orders? And what had he felt as he had pulled the trigger? Nothing, it had been his duty, and that was it. Until recently, when he had come face to face with the last Killjoy. The rebel he had spared, and had then protected by confirming his death to his superiors, had been kind to him. Genuine kindness. That was the exact moment everything had changed for Michael and he didn't even know why. Since then, the dreams and flashes had started, the visions of him on a stage, standing beside three other men, including that wild haired rebel, and also the red haired man who had also spoken so affectionately and had seemed so full of love to him, in a way she never had done. The man who had called him "Mikey." He wasn't real but he had affected Michael more than the woman he had shared a bed with. Michael didn't know what the recurring dreams meant, or why he had been instructed by the co-ordinator to ignore them, but he wanted to find out. Why did dreams matter so much that they needed to be ignored? And why did no other person in that City have dreams? What made him different? He needed to know.

Even more concerning, was the fact that he had chosen to ignore her wish for him to increase his daily drug intake? It was more than that. He had stopped taking the pills entirely. And he had done this because the man in his dreams had told him to. He had urged him to "think freely and throw the shit away." Why the hell was Michael listening to a creation of his subconscious?

What did it all mean?

Every single day of his life, he had felt like there was something missing. He had felt so alone.

It wasn't only the answers to these question Michael found himself looking for, there was so much more. He had begun to think about who he actually was. What kind of person was he? He had memories of growing up in the City, of his parents and brother being murdered by rebels, and the pain he had gone through. But where did he live? What was his address before he became an orphan? The Co-ordinator found him in the street, took him in and they fell in love, he not only had memories, but he had also heard that so many times. It wasn't just a memory, it was a feeling that he couldn't ignore. But what about lovers before her? What about friends? And this name that he had heard more and more recently, Mikey? No one in his life had ever called him that, it had always been simply 'Michael.' So, where did the shortened version come from? And why had some dirty rebel called him by it, as if they had once been friends?

The time had come. He needed to know why he had become the man he was now.

He would never know peace until he learned the truth.

And he didn't want to feel alone any more.

Just as he was pondering his next move, and knowing that he couldn't just sit there, all night, lost in his thoughts, he was brought out of his musings abruptly when the shrill sound of his communicator filled the quiet space.

He frowned, and then brought his wrist up to his lips, and pressed the button.

"Michael here?"

"Michael." His heart sank as the Co-ordinator's voice boomed out at him over the waves, "Where are you?"

"Out for a walk." He replied, simply.

There was a pause. "I see. Well, we have gained much information from the rebel leader, Connor. It appears a group of rebels will be attempting to gain entry into the City very shortly. I want you to lead the ambush."

Michael closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead. "And Saint?" He enquired.

"I am giving you this honour!" Came her snappy response. "I expect you to be pleased, Exterminator. I will be remaining in the Detention Centre, so will be expecting constant updates on your progress. You need to go to the education centre at once. All available Draculoids are also being sent to the area. I want every last rebel captured or killed, Michael. See that I am not disappointed."

Michael cleared his throat. "Did Connor say why they are attacking us?"

"Why do you think?" She threw back. "Same as always. They plan to destroy us!"

"But why tonight?" He pressed. "What do they want?"

He waited when the line went silent.

"Ma'am?"

"There is no more information!" She hissed indignantly. "You have your orders, Exterminator. See that they are carried out!"

And then she cancelled the call.

He sat there for a moment, all of his thoughts, doubts and fears rotating through his brain. The last thing he wanted to do right then was to go to that centre, leading an army of mindless drones into battle. He looked down at the white ray gun grasped in his right hand, and he frowned. He knew he should obey her instructions, as ever he had the urge to go and do just that, and resisting the order was actually painful for him. He'd never wondered why before though.

He stood up slowly, and began to walk in the direction of the school. After a few steps, he paused, looking back over his shoulder.

He couldn't go on like this another second, he needed answers. And there was only one person he knew could give him what he craved.

He turned, and headed in the other direction, making straight for the Detention Centre.

XXX

The darkness surrounded them as the small group of rebels made their way to the edge of the City, having spent the last few hours crossing Zone Three on foot, each of them nervous and apprehensive about what they were getting themselves into. Billie Joe led the way, with Mike, Ray just behind them, then Frank and Luka, and finally Show Pony and a few other volunteers bringing up the rear. They all knew the plan, and were assured by Billie that it had been prepared fully. They were trying not to think about how badly things could go wrong. They were deep in enemy territory, hopelessly outnumbered and relying on people they didn't even know.

As Frank and Ray exchanged glances, it was clear that they were both thinking the same thing:

'Were they walking right into one Hell of an elaborate trap?'

Ray reached out, and grasped Frank's shoulder. Something else was clear. This was about Mikey. He was in there, somewhere, and it was up to them to get him out.

Whether he wanted to go with them or not.

Billie waved his hand, and the whole party knelt down, as a patrol of Dracs passed by in the near distance.

"What happens now, Bill?" Mike hissed to his friend.

"We wait." Billie replied, abruptly.

They slumped down together, each of them looking up fearfully at every noise, or whenever a BL/I drone, Draculoid and Scarecrow alike, walked past. Three times they were nearly discovered, and each man was becoming more and more anxious as the time went by.

When thirty minutes had passed and nothing had occurred, Frank approached Billie apprehensively

"Hey, Billie?"

"Don't even suggest it, Frank. They're coming."

Frank swallowed. He knew how much effort Billie had put into this plan, and working with this group of rebels, but that didn't change the fact that they were all out in the open, and if so much as one Draculoid spotted them, they would be sitting ducks.

Just as Frank had made up his mind to suggest to Billie that perhaps they had all been led on a merry dance, Billie looked up sharply, his ray gun raised and ready. Then, a quiet voice hissed:

"Billie Joe?"

Giving Frank a triumphant smile that just screamed "told you!" Billie rose up, and moved forward, careful not to make a sound. Shona rushed forward to meet him, taking his hand, and offering him a warm smile. "I'm sorry I'm late," she whispered. "There are lots of patrols about tonight."

"We saw," Frank retorted. "Almost as if they're expecting action tonight-"

Shona gave him a cold stare. "The Draculoids are always patrolling at night. Anyone they see out after curfew is fair game to them. Their idea of sport. It's the only entertainment they get. Anyone who is forced to live in the City knows that."

Frank glared back at her. "You think surviving in the Zones is a picnic, sugar?"

"That's enough!" Billie snapped, fixing Frank with a filthy look. "Why you alone, baby? You said there would be more with you."

"Connor just sent me," she told him. "I spoke to some other rebels, friends of mine, and they are tracking us though." She gestured across the City boundary. "We have to go overground to the Education Centre, it'll be dangerous but we can make it, if we're careful and you guys have your wits about you-" She threw Frank a knowing look.

Ray grabbed his arm, preventing him from responding. "Leave it!" He hissed.

Frank shrugged him off, and pursed his lips together. He didn't look happy.

Shona was still talking. "We get through the school, meet up with Connor in the assembly room. The tunnel is right outside, and Connor will lead you through to the Detention Centre." She tossed her hair back. "The Coordinator and her Exterminators are all there tonight. We don't know why."

Luka stepped forward. "Is the school safe?"

She eyed him. "Safe as anywhere else here. I work there, so I know it well. There are lots of tunnel entrances all over the City, it's how the Dracs get around quickly during an emergency, and we have many emergencies..." She shrugged. "It's the best we got. So, you coming?"

Billie glanced over at his allies, and they all nodded. They had come this far. What good would turning back be now?

The former lead singer nodded. "Eh, Shona..." He whispered to her, and then coughed.

She looked at him quizzically, and then was embarrassed to realise that she was still holding on his hand.

She let go quickly.

He flashed her a big smile, one that she couldn't help but return. He then gestured toward the City.

"Lead on, baby."

XXX

The Coordinator was watching Gerard closely, her dislike for the Killjoy evident on her face. A small group of doctors were walking around her, moving to check different apparatus. She didn't look at them though, her eyes were fixated only on Gerard.

He slept on, apparently peacefully.

"The other rebel has told us everything he knows about this weapon, though we still know precious little." She jerked her head toward Gerard. "This man was a rebel leader with connections to Death Defying himself. He must have known something. Find out everything you can." A cold smile spread across her face. "Go as deep as you need to. Report any findings to me. This is your most important task now."

She lifted her gaze to the leading Doctor, nodded to him, and then hurriedly left the room.

The doctors moved to begin their work. The Head Physician gestured for one to check the scans of their 'patient's' brain as he peered at his face closely.

"There are signs of brain activity, sir." The man reported.

"Fascinating," The Head Doctor whispered, peering over Gerard, pulling up the man's eyelids. "This man is clinging on to life. You must wonder why he bothers..."

A doctor, watching the monitors closely, spoke up.

"The readings show that he is scared, Sir."

The Doctor looked around, perplexed, and then actually scoffed. "Really, physician? You believe he is capable of emotions? He is nothing but a vegetable!"

"Yes, Sir," The team member replied, somewhat quickly. "I appreciate that. But yet, the readings clearly show that he is very concerned by something. Right now, he is frightened. Something deep inside-"

His superior laughed. "You are being ridiculous, man! You'll be telling me he has dreams next!"

The other man fell silent, looking again at the controls. His body language clearly showed though that he was seething.

There was a pause, before the leading Doctor broke the silence. "Your intentions are good though, physician, though your clearly incorrect. You must register all readings, any signs of life, no matter how small, they must be recorded and passed on to the Co-Ordinator." He stood for a moment, hands on hips. "If he were to awaken-"

One drone, a large man with a gruff voice, his face covered by his 'Crow mask, cleared his throat.

"You don't really believe he could wake up, do you, Sir?" He shook his head. "The massive trauma caused to his brain when the Reprogrammer was ripped from his head would mean that there was next to no-"

"I know the diagnosis!" The Head Doctor stormed, rounding on the other man, who backed away instantly. "I was the man who operated on him. I know he is as good as dead." He placed his hands on Gerard's table, leaning closer to the prone man. "However unlikely, we must investigate all readings. If your colleague is correct, and there are flashes, tiny flickers of something behind those eyes..." He smiled. "It is intriguing to say the least." His lips curled. "I believe there is still much to learn from this subject."

"Subject, sir?" The first Scarecrow had stopped. There was a strange edge to his tone now. "You make him sound less than human."

The Doctor shrugged. "He is a rebel. He's not important."

The 'Crow didn't attempt to reply.

"Very well then," the Head Surgeon stated, addressing all of his team, who suddenly gave him their full attention. "Enough of this talk. We have work to do. The Co-ordinator has given her orders. We must see that we get her the answers she seeks. Delve as deeply as necessary. All further damage we cause is unavoidable." He waved his hand. "Move."

Without any further ado, they rushed to obey, all advancing on the helpless, sleeping man in the centre of the room.

All, that is, except for the one Crow who had questioned his leader. He stood perfectly still for a few moments, watching the others preparing to work on their "subject." His gaze lowered as he contemplated what he should do. He looked up sharply when he heard the sleeping man let out a low cry of discomfort as the scanner was fixed to his temple once more.

The doctors were discussing this at length, talking and acting as though the man lying defenceless before them was nothing but a rodent, one they were free to experiment on as they saw fit.

The Scarecrow knew he couldn't stop them. There was no point staying there a moment longer. They wouldn't allow Gerard to die, he was still too useful to them. The damage they could do though, that was another matter.

All he could hope was that Gerard fought his way out of his head before they hurt him further.

As inconspicuously as he were able, the masked man slipped out of the room, grimacing angrily when he heard the "test subject" cry out once more in his sleep.

'Hold on, Gerard,' he thought, desperately. 'Keep fighting. Not long now.'

XXX

Gerard stood, facing his greatest foe, the face of his nightmares. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest. He was breathing hard, his fists clenched into balls at his side. Gerard didn't take his eyes off of the sneering man standing before him. Korse began to circle him, his sneer turning into a mocking smile.

"What is it to be then, Gerard?" He taunted. "An eternal fight to the death between good," he gestured to himself and then to the younger man, "and evil?" He let out a low chuckle. "Do you even know what you are still fighting for?"

Gerard knew only to well what he was fighting for. His freedom. The right to be with his loved ones again. The right to live.

Victory was the only option. Anything else didn't bear thinking about.

"Scared, Killjoy?" Korse taunted Gerard mercilessly while still circling around him like a hunter playing with his prey. "I'll make it quick for you, I promise." He threw back his head, and laughed loudly.

Gerard didn't respond. He knew that would annoy Korse.

The Killjoy couldn't help but gasp when Korse almost flew through the air toward him. He crashed into the younger man, sending him tumbling to the floor and winding Gerard painfully in the process. As Gerard could do nothing but lay beneath his enemy, gasping for breath, he soon found himself trapped as Korse pined him to the floor by his wrists, grinning victoriously.

The flames roared around them, burning ever more brightly.

"That wasn't much of an effort, Party Poison. Gotta say, I expected more."

"You... bastard," he whispered quietly. Korse smirked, and then glared down at Gerard, who added; "You sick, twisted bastard."

Korse raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling.

"Want me to put you out of your misery, don't you, Gerard?" he drawled. "I'm sorry but no can do. 'We're stuck here together forever, you and I." He grabbed Gerard's hair and pulled his head up towards him, leaning closer so he could lick seductively along the other man's lips. He then bit down, causing Gerard to whimper in pain. "There are ways to make the time go by more enjoyably though, Killjoy..."

"Get the hell off of me, you son of a bitch!"

With a snarl, Gerard kicked out at Korse, catching him on his groin. The madman let out a stunned shout and Gerard took full advantage, hitting his enemy twice in the gut, and his foe fell to the ground beside him, face screwed up in pain, cursing loudly.

Moving quickly, Gerard dragged his aching body to his feet and stared down at his fallen foe, his face grim. His stomach knotted when he saw Korse continue to smirk up at him. With a rush of anger, Gerard kicked Korse hard in the head, feeling a flush of pleasure when the man grunted and finally laid still.

Seizing his chance, Gerard moved over to the doorway, hanging back due to the flames, as ever blocking his path. He stared through them, the heat almost scorching.

How could he ever get through the fire? He'd be burnt to death if he tried.

His heart sank when he heard that cold chuckle from just behind him.

As he whirled round, fear was already once more clutching his stomach. He found himself face-to-face with Korse, and the evil man was watching him, looking frenzied and furious.

And holding a very large plank of wood.

XXX

The rebels were creeping through the school, the darkness and eeriness of the deserted building effecting them all. They had made it to the building with little problems, something that Frank found disconcerting. They had seen many patrols along the way, just none close to them, or on their path. Neither Shona nor Billie seemed worried about this, stating they shouldn't sneer at some good luck for once. Shona led the way through the maze of corridors, and then Billie, Mike, Luka, Frank, and finally Ray and Show Pony bringing up the rear. The extra rebels that had chosen to join them on their mission were in the second group, a couple of meters behind them. Billie moved ahead of the others, falling into step beside Shona.

"Where are you taking us?" He whispered. There was a hint of anxiety in his tone.

She gave him an annoyed glance, and then pressed a finger to her lips, deploring for him to keep silent. He frowned, and then grabbed her hand, bringing her to a stop. "I appreciate we gotta hurry, sweetheart, but I need to know where we're going. These boys have put a lot of faith in me, and me in you-"

He regretted those words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She rounded on him at once, and Billie suddenly found himself pinned up against the wall.

"Do you know," she snarled, "How much I've risked to help you? How dare you-"

"Hey!" Mike was pulling her away from his friend, and then shoving her away. "That's not helping." He gave Billie a withering look. "We gotta trust her Bill, she's brought us this far."

Billie nodded repeatedly. "I know that, Mike. I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, well, you said it!" Shona was trembling with anger.

"I'm sorry," he told her, his head bowed to show his regret. "I appreciate everything you've done for us." He gestured to her. "Lead on, I'll keep quiet."

That seemed to cool her fury. She gave him a curt nod, and then continued on. "We're meeting Connor, so you asked. He'll lead you on the rest of the way. As I told you, you'll be using the tunnels to get into the Detention Centre, as far as we know from sightings, that's where Exterminator Michael will be. Connor will explain the escape plan." She threw Billie a cold look. "Happy now?"

He grinned at her. "Very."

She couldn't help but smile at that. Her eyes lingered on Billie, who had turned to Mike for a quick exchange, and then she headed on, making her way down the longer corridors, until finally leading them into a larger room. They paused, allowing time for their comrades, led by Show Pony, to catch them up. They watched as the other group filed in the room and then they all stood, waiting. After five minutes, in which they, including Shona, were all becoming more nervous by the passing second, a man walked into the room.

"Connor!" Shona exclaimed. She rushed over to him and went to hug him, but he held out a hand, stopping her.

"We don't have long," he told her. "There's lots of Draculoid activity out there tonight. We had better get moving." He looked over at the watching rebels. "How was your journey here?"

"It was fine," Billie responded. "No trouble at all."

Connor's eyes bored into Billie's. "That's lucky," he replied.

Frank exchanged a knowing look with Ray. He didn't like this. Connor seemed too... robotic. And they had both seen enough people, including loved ones, acting the same to know exactly what it meant. Frank took a step toward Billie, wanting to tell his friend his fears.

But Billie, and Mike, had apparently noticed as well.

"Shona," Billie said, his voice low, "We should get out of here."

Shona, who had been watching Connor closely, glanced at Billie questionably.

Connor took a couple of steps forward. "Are you Billie Joe?" He asked.

Billie clenched his fists as he regarded the other man. After a moment's hesitation, he replied; "Yeah, I am."

The other man's face broke out in a wide smile. "It's good to finally meet you."

Billie glanced toward the exit. "We need to head off."

Connor let out a low chuckle. "No rebel, you're not going anywhere."

"What's going on with you?" Shona snapped to him

The former rebel leader merely grinned in response.

Mike instantly moved in front of Billie, while Frank and Luka edged closer to Ray. Show Pony's hand was resting on his gun as he watched Connor moving further into the room.

"Shona," Billie hissed. "He's-"

But Billie never had a chance to finish. At that moment, Draculoid after Draculoid rushed into the room, and quickly surrounded the band of rebels. Before the rebels had even digested what was happening, they were outnumbered almost three to one.

Connor, smirking, gestured to the horrified Billie. "Take Armstrong alive. The rest of them-" He shrugged, with a wily smile.

"NO!" Shona screamed. "DAVID!"

He stopped, turned and looked at her with distaste. "Kill her first, will you, boys? She's annoyed me for years."

Shona covered her mouth with her hand, and sobbed.

Billie Joe jumped forward. "You son of a bitch!" He aimed his gun straight at Connor. "Is that how you talk to a woman? You traitor."

"He's been re-programmed," Frank grabbed at Billie. "It's not his fault."

"I don't give a fuck!"

"Billie, you gotta calm down."

Billie shoved out at Frank, who went flying straight into some of the watching Dracs. The Dracs who were helpfully standing nearest to the exit.

"GO!" Billie shrieked.

Before anyone had the chance to realise they had a free route out, more chaos erupted when more bodies piled into the room, yelling obscenities and instantly opened fire on the Draculoids.

From their clothing, Billie, from his position on the floor, could only assume that were part of Sapphire, the friends Shona had mentioned had been following them, and they'd arrived on the scene just in time.

"Get the fuck out of there!" A voice shrieked.

Pandemonium ensued.

Ray gun blasts shot across the room from left to right, and screams and cries filled the space as Drac and rebel were shot down in the me-lee. Black smoke was everywhere, it was impossible to see a thing.

Connor was panicking, yelling orders at the Draculoids.

Mike and Billie, shouting to Frank and Ray, ran toward the exit, making quick work of the two Dracs baring their way.

Billie looked quickly over his shoulder, his eyes locking for a second with Shona, who was stood to one side of the room, Ray at her side.

She gestured at him furiously. Her message was clear:

'Get the Hell out!'

Billie saw her and Ray, who was evidently looking desperately for Frank, fight their way to the other exit, Show Pony not far behind them. Frank was just behind Billie, Luka at his side, screaming at the top of his voice for Ray. Luka pulled Frank along with him, clinging onto to him despite Frank effort's to wrench his way free, to get back to Ray. Finally, the four men fell through the door, and found the entrance to the tunnels just beyond it. Billie grinned. "Would you look at that?"

"Just go!" Mike snapped.

"What about Ray, Show Pony and the rest?" Frank gasped.

Billie gestured helplessly. "They're smart Frank, they'll find a way out. Come on!"

Frank knew he had no choice. With one last hopeless look over his shoulder, he and Luka dived after Mike and Billie, throwing themselves into the unknown blackness.

A few minutes later, after the insanity and smoke had cleared slightly, Connor stood perfectly still, staring at the tunnel. Only five or six rebels were dead, Billie Joe and his closest allies not among them. He rubbed his hands together, unsure what to do. His orders had been clear, cut the criminals off, herd them into a room, and destroy them, except for Billie Joe, who was required. He had failed miserably, and he would pay the price.

"We have to get after them..." Connor mused, more to himself.

Not one drone moved in response.

"What the hell-?"

All pairs of eyes in the room turned to see a very angry looking Saint striding towards them, his hands balled into fists at his side. He stood perfectly still, taking in the destruction in front of him, seeing the dead bodies of rebels and Draculoids on the ground.

He didn't recognise any of the bodies.

Saint's face darkened.

"Where is he?" He spat, grabbing the nearest Draculoid around the throat. "Where is Billie Joe Armstrong? I heard you had him and his friends trapped! I came straight here!"

The Drac didn't even struggle in his grasp. Of course it didn't. It hadn't been ordered to.

"He and the rest of the rebels escaped, Sir."

Saint tightened his grip. "How?"

"Through the tunnel. They had help, Sir."

Within seconds, the Draculoid was dead at Saint's feet, it's neck snapped like a twig.

Saint whirled around furiously, his eyes darting from one drone to the next. "Who is in charge here?"

Connor moved toward him, his head lowered in respect. "I am, sir."

"Where is Michael?" Saint hissed, leaning in toward Connor, lifting his chin so the zombie before him was forced to lift his head and look at him. "He was ordered to lead you."

Connor blinked. "He didn't come, Sir."

Saint's eyes blazed. "Didn't he? Isn't that interesting?" He peered into the tunnel entrance. "You are certain a number of rebels ran this way?"

"Yes, Sir," the other man replied. "At least four. And Armstrong was among them."

Saint considered this, and then nodded. "Very well. Instruct a patrol of Draculoids to get after them, after ensuring every possible exit is blocked. And bring me a plan of the tunnels at once." Fury flashed across his face. "I want these rebels found. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

Saint gestured. "Go now!"

He watched the man hurrying away, and then took a deep breath. Billie Joe Armstrong was so close. He'd be his soon enough.

Saint ran a hand through his hair. He had to put revenge to one side for now. Before he could face his past, and deal with it, he had some bad news to deliver.

She needed to be told about Michael. The Killjoy-turned-Exterminator was no longer trustworthy, and the Coordinator would have to deal with him. One way or another.

XXX

The Co-ordinator had returned to the Operating wing, watching her very small, and select, group of doctors as they dashed around the room, moving from their patient and then over to the monitors, showing scans of his brainwaves. She frowned, her arms crossed across her chest, glaring at any other person who was foolish enough to catch her eye.

"What is taking so long?" She finally snapped. "He must have the information stored somewhere. He's probably hiding it." Her eyes narrowed. "Go deeper. Wipe everything, if you have to, to get to what we need."

The Head surgeon, his Scarecrow mask removed as it hindered his work, turned to regard her, somewhat disdainfully. "With all due respect, madam," he replied; "If we push to far, we will kill him. The subject is very weak."

"Who cares about his worthless life?" She hissed in response.

The lead doctor took a deep breath. "You did, ma'am. And if you, and the Controller, wish us to gain every single little piece of knowledge he knows, which I understood was the requirement, then killing him will not do any of us any favours!"

She was clenching her fists, and giving him a look of pure dislike. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, except for the steady noise of the machines keeping their patient alive, as all the other doctors had paused to watch the exchange. The Co-ordinator suddenly noticed this. Rounding on the other physicians in anger, she spat; "What are you all looking at? We need to find out what the rebel knew about this weapon. We can learn no more from the other one, so we must discover the truth from this rat." She lowered her voice. "He was a Killjoy, their leader even. He has to know something."

The doctor nodded. "Lets hope so," he replied, and then raised an eyebrow. "For all of our sakes, ma'am."

He turned away then, returning to his work. The Co-ordinator watched him for a moment, and then spun on her heel, and marched from the room. Once outside, and on her own, she closed her eyes tightly, bringing a shaky hand up to her mouth. If they didn't find out what this weapon was, what it could do, and where the rebels were hiding it, her life would not be worth living. Literally. She would be finished, they all would be.

Suddenly, her communicator buzzed loudly, startling her. With an annoyed snarl, she answered the call quickly.

"Yes?"

Saint's voice, sounding somewhat panicky, greeted her.

"At last! I've been trying to reach you! Where have you been?"

She frowned. The communicators had no signal in the operating room, due to the machines. Of course, he had no idea where she was, and she intended to keep it that way. The fewer people she had to entrust with her secret, the better. Especially someone she truly believed would happily betray to take over her role in the company.

"I was out of range," she responded quickly. "What is wrong?"

"The rebels attacked," he hissed, "I've just arrived at the education centre to get briefed on what happened." When she didn't respond at once, his tone grew louder, and more impatient. "If you remember, we were informed of this by the rebel leader, Connor?"

She quietly seethed, annoyed at his attitude. "Yes, of course I remember! What happened? Have the rebels all been captured, or killed?"

A pause. And then; "According to Connor, who responded to reprogramming perfectly by the way, a few were killed. Unfortunately, the main group escaped."

She froze. "How many?"

"All of them."

"ALL of them?" She exclaimed, now shouting into her wrist. "Was the ambush not put into place?"

"Exactly as planned. The rebels were hopelessly outnumbered and Connor knew what he was doing."

She mused for a second. "And Michael?"

Another pause. "Michael wasn't here."

Her wrist shook slightly. "He was ordered to-"

"I know what his orders were, and I'm sure he did too. But he didn't obey them, ma'am. He wasn't there." His voice became strained. "From what Connor reported to me, our forces could have done with their general today."

She was trembling with anger.

"Madam?" Saint prompted.

Finally, she seemed to contain her emotions once more, and then asked him; "How did they escape, Saint?"

"They had help from some Citizens, apparently. Connor's old gang, I assume. Plus..." There was almost something akin to glee in his tone as he added; "They're good."

Her face darkened at once, and her voice grew colder. "Is that so?" She muttered. Hate flashed across her face, and her eyes were blazing. "Well, they are in the City now, out of the safety of the Zones. They are in our territory now. Lets see how 'good' they really are." She raised her voice. "Send out Draculoid patrols, as many as you can. Find them. I want all of them captured or killed before this day is over. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." He returned. "From what I've heard, a few of the rebels made their escape through the sewer tunnels. We're tracking those. I'm leading the mission myself now."

She managed a small smile at this. "Good. Find them for me, Saint."

"I'll report back soon."

And with that, he disconnected.

She stayed still for a few moments, trying to control her fury. How dare Michael ignore her orders. He had never done so before. She could feel dread building deep within her. What was happening to the man she loved? Was Saint right, was she losing control? She had worked so long and so tirelessly to turn the former Killjoy into the perfect Exterminator, her very own plaything. And, if she were honest, she had developed very strong, very real, feelings for him. She couldn't lose him now. If another session of re-programming was required, then so be it. She knew the dangers, knew a second dose could fry Michael's brain but rather that than allowing these sickening examples of free thoughts to continue. She was very aware that he had stopped taking his drugs, but had chosen to let that pass for now, with her concerns for this weapon being at the forefront of her mind. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

She had been too lenient with Michael. That was wrong. She would be tougher with him from now on.

Turning back towards the Operating room, her eyes narrowed. Someone would pay for Michael being drawn away from her. And she knew exactly who.

She shoved open to the door, and stormed back in. All the doctors froze what they were doing, and turned to look at her.

"Get out." She told them.

The leader cleared his throat, and moved toward her. "It would not be a good idea to stop the process-"

His words fell away when he saw the look on her face.

"I said," she managed, her voice trembling in anger, "GET OUT!"

The whole team exchanged glances, and then quickly filed out, leaving the Coordinator alone. She waited for them to go, and then turned back toward Gerard. Her expression was one of complete viciousness as she walked up to him slowly. He, naturally, didn't move. She leaned down, pressing her elbows into his arm, and whispered into his ear.

"So, you're fighting back against me, are you? You think you're getting through to him, don't you? I don't know how you are forcing your way into his dreams but I'll make you stop. Do you hear me?"

She left him then, moving over to the controls to the left of him. "I wonder," she smirked. "Will you feel this, rebel?"

She pulled at levers and turned switches, incensed. And then watched with satisfaction as the man before her arched his back, and began to writhe in agony. He opened his mouth and screamed. She smiled at him coldly. "Stay out of his dreams, Poison. He's mine now."

After watching his torture for a few minutes, she fiddled with the controls again, and brought his agony to an end.

He laid perfectly still, as if nothing untoward had occurred.

"It's nearly time for you to die," she noted, with a sneer. "Then I'll be rid of you."

At that moment, a Draculoid entered the room behind her and moved closer, eyeing her nervously

"Ma'am?"

"What is it?"

"My apologies. We have received word. Your presence is required by the Controller."

She frowned. "Of course."

With one last evil glare at Poison, she rushed quickly from the room, gesturing for the two Draculoids to join her. She didn't want to go alone, not with rogue rebels loose in the City.

Silence fell once again. After ensuring the coast was clear, and that the Coordinator wouldn't be returning any moment soon, Michael stepped out of the shadows. He stared after her for some seconds, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Going behind her back, sneaking around, this was all alien to him. He was a soldier, he did as he was told, it was as simple as that.

Somehow, he was changing. He hadn't decided whether he liked the changes or not yet.

He wanted answers. And every instinct was telling him he would find them through the door in front of him.

With a deep breath, he pushed open those doors, and walked into the room.

He quickly saw that it was an operating theatre, and it wasn't empty.

There was a man, completely naked and unresponsive, sleeping on a bed in the centre of the room. He was surrounded by equipment clearing recording his every, no matter how slim, movement. Michael moved closer to the bed somewhat wearily. As he drew nearer, he saw, to his complete shock, that the sleeping man linked up to all the machinery was the exact same man from his dreams.

Michael stumbled in shock, as he gazed at the comatose man before him.

He was stick thin, and his skin was pale, even ghostly, and cold to the touch. His lips were blue, and his hair was cropped, though had evidently grown over the time he'd been trapped there. He had not even been given the respect of being covered up. It made Michael feel very uneasy, knowing this man had been kept in these conditions.

Michael looked at the machines that had been keeping the man alive, and frowned. Had it not been for the steady bleeping, he would have assumed this man was dead. He was being fed through a tube, and clearly would not have been able to breath on his own, without the wires keeping his heart beating and his blood pumping.

Why had this man been kept alive and how long had he been there? Who knew he was here? And why in such horrific conditions?

And what had Michael's dreams meant?

Unable to think clearly, he removed his mask, and placed it on the bed.

"Who are you?" The Exterminator whispered.

He was so preoccupied, he didn't hear the door opening and closing behind him.

"I didn't want this to happen so soon."

Michael started in surprise, and turned to see the Coordinator and two Draculoids entering the room. She was giving him a strange look, a mixture of annoyance and excitement.

"This is earlier then I had planned," she told him. "But today is as good a day as any."

"Who is he?" Michael enquired. "If he's sick, why is he here and not in the Medical Centre?"

She walked up to him, throwing the sleeping man an uninterested glance. "I am angry with you Michael. You have ignored my orders, allowing rebels to escape, and now you have entered this room, despite it being out of bounds to you." She lightly stroked his face with her finger. "And now you have the nerve to question me?"

He instantly bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Ma'am."

She put her arms around him tightly and embraced him. "I can't stay angry with you for long, my love." She leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his. He responded, and the kiss grew more passionate. Finally, she pulled away, walked over to the prone man, fixed him with a cold stare, and then smiled.

She beckoned Michael closer.

"It's time for you to meet the great Party Poison, Michael. The leader, and last of, the feared Killjoys." Her voice dripped with malice.

Michael furrowed his brow in confusion. "You told me he was dead, ma'am."

She nodded. "And that tiny white lie was unfortunately necessary. He has been very useful to me, giving us the Intel we needed to send you into all of those rebel bases, and wipe them out." She smirked. "Without Party Poison, all of those rebels would still be alive." She scrapped down Poison's face with her nail, leaving a trail of blood. "He may be a vegetable, but he has his uses."

Michael looked on, quietly. There was something about all of this that made him very queasy. The Coordinator was taking obvious pleasure in tormenting a defenceless man, and he didn't like it. Especially as this was the man from his dreams. The man who had spoken to him with such genuine love. The man who had urged him to "wake up."

"I dreamt about him, Ma'am," he whispered. "For nights now, I've seen him, spoken to him." He pointed. "This very man, though I've never seen him before. How is that possible?"

She shrugged. "We know so little about the subconscious, Michael. We cannot control it. That is why I told you to ignore the dreams." She gestured to her two Draculoids to guard the door, and then she stepped closer to Michael.

"It is time for you to finish your mission, my sweet. I ordered you to destroy the remaining Killjoys." She pointed at the helpless man. "There is the last. Complete you task, and kill him.

Michael eyed her, and then looked at Poison, somewhat hesitantly.

He didn't move.

She gave him a little push. "Go on, Michael. Finish it."

Michael took a deep breath, and composed himself. He knew he had to follow her instructions, no matter how many of his dreams this man had invaded. She was his superior, and she was to be obeyed. He stepped forward, and raised his gun, preparing to fire.

The sleeping man whispered one word. A word that changed everything.

"Mikey..."

Michael stopped dead.

There was a low gasp from the woman behind him.

'So, she heard him too.'

"Who is Mikey?" He whispered.

She recovered from the shock of hearing the man speak impressively. "Ignore it, it's nothing but insane mumblings. Kill him quickly."

Michael continued to peer at the man with interest. He was still comatose. "Other people have called me Mikey, you know."

She blinked.

"That is not important. Mikey is short for Michael, is it not? Finish this now, so we can finally move on."

He glanced at her. "Move on from what?"

She was growing impatient. "We need him dead, and you need to kill him-"

"Why?"

"Do not question me!"

He took a step closer to the sleeping man, reached out, and touched his hair.

"His hair is shorter than it is in my dreams. It's blood red there. Red suits him." He spoke more to himself than to her. "He's powerful when I dream about him, strong, a leader. And, he loves me. I feel it. When I'm with him, I actually feel."

She slammed her fist down on a table beside them, startling him. "Just end his life, Exterminator. Do it now."

Michael fixed her with a cold glare. "No."

She stopped, opened her mouth and closed it again. She clearly had not heard right.

"What did you say?"

He smiled. "I said, no."

She took a step toward him. "Don't deny me this one request, after everything I've done for you."

He actually chuckled. "Everything you've done for me? The thing is, I don't know what to believe any more."

"Just destroy him, Michael." She took his hand. "How many lives have you ended? His is just another. Do it and this is all over."

Michael pulled away from her. "It's murder! I won't do it."

"He is the leader of the Killjoys-"

"He's helpless, he can't defend himself. I'm not going to execute a man who cannot defend himself. Not this man."

The Coordinator grabbed at Michael and, to his surprise, pinned him against the wall, her own ray gun now touching his chin.

"I have given you everything I have, everything I am," she hissed. "I have taken you into my home, into my bed, I have risked my career, my very life, for you, Michael-"

"I never asked you to," he interjected.

She slapped him hard across the face.

"You insolent rebel!"

He stopped. "What?"

She gaped at him, realising what she had said. Releasing her hold on him, she stepped away and turned her back, covering her face with her hands. "I didn't mean that."

"You called me a rebel," he said, softly. "Why?"

"Forget it," she told him.

"Forget it? Like my dreams? Like anything that I can't explain?" He took a step toward her. "Why do I dream about this man? Who is he to me? Why does he call me Mikey?"

She regarded him coldly. "You would prefer to listen to a man in a dream, than to me?"

He moved ever closer. "He's not the only one to call me that. That girl, the child I brought here, she called me it too. And the rebel, the Killjoy Jet Star, he referred to me as Mikey as well." His voice gained an octave as he grew ever more emotional. "Is that my real name?"

"Get a hold of yourself!" She snapped to him. "This behaviour is insane, Michael. Can't you see that? You are Exterminator Michael of Better Living Industries, you are the man I love and you are the future of this corporation." She moved to him quickly placing both her hands on the side of his face. "All you have to do is this one thing for me, my love. Just kill him. Like the others."

Michael's eyes widened at that. "All the people I've killed for you," he said, so quietly, she had to strain to him. "I never questioned. I am now. Why did you want me to kill them. Why did Jet Star talk to me as if he knew me?" A lone tear fell from his eye as he gazed pleadingly at her. "He told me he loved me. I did know him, didn't I?"

"I love you," she told, softly.

"I don't think I feel the same. I don't think I feel anything for you."

She stared at him, unable to respond. The hurt was coursing through her.

Finally, she contained her emotions. "Enough of this!" She grabbed Michael by the back of his neck, and forced him forward. "No more of this pointless drivel. Do as you have been ordered, Michael. Kill this rebel. Now."

Michael, his gun still grasped in his right hand, approached the man once more. He couldn't prevent the tears from falling now, although he wasn't fully aware why he was crying, as he pointed his gun at the man's face.

That tiny voice inside of him came again. 'You can't kill him. You can't kill Gerard.'

"Gerard?" He muttered.

The woman froze. "What?"

He turned and faced her. "His name is Gerard, isn't it?" He looked down at the gun. "How do I know that? I've never met him." A pause. "Have I?"

"KILL HIM!" She exploded, and then, more quietly, trying to contain her anger: "Do it now. Kill him!"

He shook his head. "You've lied to me."

She was furious. She wanted to kill them both. It was taking every ounce of her self control not to raise her own gun, and blow him away.

"I said, kill him."

"No."

She marched up to him. "You are weak," she snarled, leaning right into his face. "You do not have the strength I thought you had.

"I won't kill him," Michael said again, his eyes locked with hers. "I won't kill anyone for you again."

With a sigh, she looked away from him. She turned her attention back to the sleeping man, and her eyes narrowed. She had never felt such hatred for any person as she did for this man now. Even though he was no longer a threat to her, it had made no difference.

He had still won.

"No," she hissed. "This ends today." She threw Michael a look of pure disdain. "If you will not complete the task I have set for you, then I shall do it for you..."

Michael's eyes widened. He was trembling all over. 'No...'

The Coordinator raised her weapon, and smirked. "Gerard Way still dies today..."

He didn't even hesitate. As she aimed her ray gun at the man lying on the bed, and stepped closer to him, Michael opened fire.

She took three shots, in point black range, to the back of her head.

He stopped firing when he saw her stumble forwards. As if in slow motion, the Coordinator fell, face first, not even having the chance to cry out. Her head was turned slightly to one side, her mouth in a "O" shape, her eyes open wide.

She lay perfectly still. There was no blood obviously but that made no difference. She was gone.

Exterminated.

He stared at her, trying to digest what had just happened.

The Coordinator's Draculoids started forward, guns raised, ready to bring down her killer. Michael moved faster, all of his training coming into play. He spun on the spot, blasting both of them where they stood before either could get one shot off. They fell to the ground, close to the broken body of the Coordinator.

Michael paused, his gun still covering the bodies, his eyes wide with shock.

'What the fuck had he done?'

He jumped violently when a noise filled the room, a shrill, horrible screech that made his very skin crawl.

Michael whirled around nervously, trying to get his head clear. The alarm siren had been set off because he had used a ray gun in the Detention Centre. Draculoids would already be on their way and if he was found in that room, he was finished.

However, Michael was frozen to the spot, gasping for breath, as he stared at the dead Draculoids at his feet. He knew he should run, knew they would be there soon but it was as if he was caught in a dream. Or perhaps, a nightmare. Turning slightly, he stepped gingerly toward the body of his lover, her unseeing eyes gazing up in his direction. He covered his mouth with his hand as he backed away from her, shaking his head in disbelief.

He'd killed her. He'd destroyed the only person in his life for a man he didn't even know. He hadn't even thought before he'd acted. It had been pure instinct. She'd threatened his life and he'd had no choice but to protect him.

Grimacing as the high-pitched scream of the alarm ripped through him, Michael approached the sleeping man carefully, pausing right in front of him. He leaned forward, gazing down at the man's face.

He flinched when he saw the man's eyelids move, and for a crazy second, he wondered if he was about to awaken. The man actually stirred, and let out a tiny whimper.

Quick as a flash, Michael took of his cloak, and covered the man with it, giving him some pride back and also desperate to keep him warm.

He then leaned into him again, and whispered in his ear:

"Who are you?" He moaned quietly. "How do I know you?"

XXX

With a grunt of effort, Korse swung the weapon, striking Gerard across the face, sending the Killjoy sprawling. He lay on his stomach, whimpering, trying to clear his head. The fire was blazing now, the flames hotter and higher than ever. He looked up into the cold eyes of his enemy.

"You belong to me," Korse hissed.

Gerard then felt his ankles being grabbed by the other man, as he was dragged unceremoniously across the ground, and then rolled over onto his back. He stared up at his tormentor, his blood running cold at the sight before him. Korse was crouched over him, the plank that had magically appeared a few moments ago now held in both hands, and raised high above his head, as he lorded over the naked young man. Korse's eyes were flaming, his face splattered with Gerard's blood. He looked like something out of a horror movie.

At that moment, it dawned on Gerard that this could be his own private never-ending horror movie. He as the helpless victim, Korse the unstoppable bogeyman.

With a yell of exhilaration, Korse brought the wood down hard on the Killjoy twice, gaining a pained cry with each blow. He laughed loudly, delirious from the agony and hurt he was causing, as Gerard could only writhe on the floor at his feet. Korse had won the battle raging between them, they both knew it.

And Korse would never stop.

Gleefully, he grabbed for the naked Gerard.

The Killjoy gasped.

"No!"

Korse only chuckled as he pulled his own belt free and started to beat at his victim with the belt, causing the other man to cry out repeatedly. Gerard pulled himself to his knees, hopelessly trying to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go. All he could do was crouch there, and take it.

"Don't you understand," Korse hissed in the other man's ear as he whipped him, "that every word you say means nothing? This is what counts, you on your knees and me standing over you. Slave and Master." He threw the belt aside and leant in closer, hissing into Gerard's ear. "This is what matters. You are mine and you always will be. You know it, Way. You'll never be free of me. I'm always here, always with you."

With a smirk, he forced his finger into Gerard's tight hole, delighting in his victim's cry of horror.

"Can you feel me now?"

Gerard could do nothing to stop him. Korse was right. There was no escape, no end to the torture. There was no escaping Korse. Even in death.

"Mine," the evil man hissed. "You're mine."

With that, he thrusted forward and penetrated Gerard with a shout of triumph.

Gerard cried out in anguish.

"That's it," Korse taunted. "Scream for me, baby."

'You're so pretty when you scream.'

Gerard was disgusted with himself. He lay there, not fighting back, not struggling, simply taking it. His thoughts drifting to those he had left behind, and how relieved he was that they couldn't see him now. Nothing but a whore spreading his legs for the most vile man imaginable.

A soft voice in the darkness tutted.

Gerard turned his head in the direction of the noise, and flinched violently when he saw Bert standing there, watching, a look of disgust on his face.

"Did I die so you could be a his victim, Gee?"

Gerard shook his head desperately. "Leave me alone, Bert."

Korse continued to thrust. He hadn't reacted to Bert, or to Gerard's words. For him, there was nobody but Gerard.

Bert knelt down beside his agonising friend. "It's not him keeping you prisoner. It's you, and your fear of him. You have to fight, Gee. It's the only way you're gonna be free of him and this place. They need you. He needs you."

Gerard blinked. "He?"

Bert nodded. "Listen. Can't you hear him?"

Gerard did as Bert instructed. He listened intently. And, to his shock, he heard him. The words, spoken softly and with so much fear, they filled the tiny room.

"Who are you? How do I know you?"

Korse paused mid-thrust, breathing harshly. He'd heard them too. He snarled, grabbing Gerard's hair, pulled out of him, and then slammed back in. Gerard's eyes met Bert's, and his former friend smiled knowingly.

"Figure it out, Gee," he repeated, his words slow and meaningful. "Beat him. You can do this."

And then Bert was gone.

Gerard gritted his teeth. Those words, he could still hear them, feel them even. He knew what he had to do. With a roar of "NO!", he began to struggle ferociously, kicking out at Korse with all his might. Korse grunted as Gerard's blows hit home. The Killjoy struck out repeatedly until at last, Korse released his hold on him and Gerard was able to scramble clear, leaving Korse to stare after him in shock.

The Killjoy stood, drawing himself up to his full height, and stared hatefully back. "You're never touching me again."

XXX

Michael reached out towards the sleeping man. Just as his finger tips almost touched the prone man's face, the Exterminator froze. The alarm was driving him insane. They would be coming, he knew it. He'd helped to train them, after all. Very soon, the whole area would be crawling with his Draculoids and he knew he couldn't be found there. Not with her. Not after what he'd done.

He edged away from the bed, away from the unconscious man. The stirrings and whimpering had stopped, and the man was now lying there, quite peacefully. Michael shook his head, turning away hurriedly, and instantly his eyes were drawn to the broken body of the Co-ordinator, lying at an awkward angle, her Draculoid guards close by.

Michael let out a low sob. He had to get out of there. He felt sick, weak, as if he was going to pass out. He couldn't stay there a second longer. He had to leave.

Every instinct was screaming the same thing at him. Run.

And then, the flashing lights started, being stage two of the Detention Centre's alarm system. Stage three would be the gas. He moaned, covering his eyes with his arm. Not even caring that his mask was still placed beside the Killjoy's head, Michael made for the door, a shaky hand covering his mouth.

He didn't look back.

XXX

"Who are you? How do I know you?"

The softly spoken words echoed around the tiny room. The two men, locked in their eternal struggle, both froze.

Gerard recovered first, his eyes narrowing. He let a furious cry, sending Korse sprawling, and then dragging himself to his feet.

"Did you hear that?" Gerard spat, breathing harshly. "Did you?"

Korse merely smirked. He didn't need to reply. His silence proved everything. He'd heard the voice, loud and clear. And, judging from his face, he knew his control was already slipping.

"That was Mikey's voice," the younger man whispered. "I know his voice anywhere. He's out there, the other side of that door, and he's waiting for me."

"You can't help him," Korse told him. "You're finished. There's no escape, no getting through those flames, let alone the locked door beyond them. Accept it, Gerard. There's you, and there's me. That's all there is..."

"You're wrong!"

Gerard turned around quickly, making his way over to the flames, a hand up to protect himself from the scorching heat of the flames. He could see his target. That locked door, just the other side of the fire. Waiting for him. And through that, he knew they were waiting. His brothers.

They needed him.

Frank...

"You want to burn to death?" Korse spat, his voice growing louder, as he picked himself up. "Be my guest, you Killjoy fool."

Slowly, Gerard turned and faced him. "You got that fucking right, you bastard," Gerard stated. "I am a Killjoy. And I've fucking had enough of you. Time for me to leave."

His tormentor began to chuckle. The very sound coursed through Gerard and he balled his hands into fists.

Then, his face broke out into a wide smile. He knew how he much look. Insane.

Korse had stopped laughing.

With a shout of outrage, Gerard raced forward, and leaped into the red flames.

He closed his eyes tightly.

XXX

Shona and Ray were making their way as quickly but carefully as possible through the school building, hiding from any groups of Draculoids that came their way. They knew they had to get out of there, that they were trapped like rats and the area was crawling with Draculoids all searching for them. Theyhad no idea where the others had gone, and no way of reaching them. Any attempts to use their communicators would be intercepted by the enemy. There only hope was to keep moving, heading for the rear exit that Shona could only hope was less guarded. If they could get out of the building, and then out of the city, then they had the opportunity to contact Frank, Billie or any other survivor and see who was safe. Shona was only too aware that John Connor was leading the search for her, he knew her movements and her methods. She would have to be at her calmest if she were to outsmart him.

The man she loved. Gone forever.

Shona let out a low sob and Ray looked over at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snapped back. "Just keep going!"

"It's Connor, isn't it?"

She paused, gasping for breath, leaning over. "I've loved him for years. I can't believe-"

"My lover was reprogrammed too," Ray whispered. "He pointed a gun at me, but changed his mind at the last moment." He grabbed her hand. "They can fight back. Mikey did, he couldn't kill me. Connor might fight too..."

A stunned gasp made them both freeze, and Ray's hand went instantly to his gun.

"Who's there?" He snapped.

"Ray?" A tiny voice muttered.

Before Ray had a chance to even show his shock, let alone reply, a ball of energy threw itself on him, embracing him, kissing him, and sobbing in his ear.

"I thought you were dead, Ray!"

Gently, but firmly; Ray pushed the crazed bundle of joy away, and looked at it properly for the first time.

Now, it was his turn to let out a cry of happiness.

"My God! Grace!"

He held her to him tightly, hugging her, not letting her go.

Grace giggled in his ear. "I've missed you," she told him.

"Me too, baby. Me too."

There was a low cough from behind them, bringing Ray back to his senses.

He placed the child on the ground, ruffling her unruly hair. "Are you okay, kiddo?"

She nodded, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Grace," Shona snapped, grabbing her by the arm. "Why are you here?"

"We saw you leave," She told her. "And heard you say into your communicator that you were going to meet the rebels." She shrugged. "We thought we'd wait and see what happened."

Ray gave Shona an unimpressed look.

Shona ignored him.

"You have to get away from here-"

Before Grace answered her, Ray spoke up. "No, Grace is one of us, Shona. She's sticking with me."

Shona opened her mouth to argue but soon realised it was useless. She sighed.

"Okay," she paused, eyeing the girl again. "Wait. What do you mean, 'we'?"

Grace grinned. "Bea is here too. She's scared though."

"We have to get out of here," Ray snapped. "Now."

He took Grace's hand but she pulled away from him. "No, I'm not leaving my best friend."

Ray and Shona exchanged looks.

"Alright Gracie," Ray responded. "You get her, then we need to get to safety."

They watched as Grace tore over to the other side of the room, and pulled a very scared and timid looking child out of their hiding place. She then pulled her forward, toward Ray, who was looking, worriedly, over at the door.

"Jet Star," Grace stated proudly, gesturing to her friend, who was now standing beside her, clutching her hand.

Ray finally turned to look at the child, and then stopped dead. His mouth fell open, and he began to shake.

Grace didn't notice. She continued her introduction. "This is my best friend, Bandit."

Ray visibly shook at the sound of her name. "How-" He gasped, and then paused, running a shocked hand through his hair.

Bandit gave Grace a questioning glance, slightly perturbed by this strange man. "Hi," she told him, and gave him a small smile.

"Jet," Shona finally managed, moving back towards them from the look out, and noticing Ray's stunned reaction for the first time. "What's wrong?"

Ray was staring at Bandit. He took a step toward her, clearly making the girl nervous, so he stopped. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again, as if he expected her to disappear. It was obvious that he could not believe his eyes.

"No..."

Bandit gaped back at Ray. "Who are you?" She asked him. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Can't be." Ray muttered. "Can't be you."

Shona was glaring daggers. "You're scaring her, Ray"

When he didn't reply immediately, she grabbed his arm. "Jet Star!"

He looked at her, his eyes meeting hers slowly. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. She shuddered under his scrutiny.

"We have to keep moving," Shona whispered, deciding she could get to the bottom of his behaviour later. Now, all that mattered was getting them, especially the girls, to safety. "You take Grace, I'll bring Bandit."

Ray took no notice of her suggestion. Instead, he asked her; "How long has she been here?"

Shona's patience was at an end. "Why does it matter?" She gestured angrily. "If we don't move away from here, we are all going to get caught!"

Ray stared at the children again, who were exchanging confused looks.

"It matters because he never knew," Ray muttered, more to himself than to them. "He never knew she was alive..." His voice broke, as he added; "Now it's too late."

Shona shook her head helplessly. She didn't understand a word. "Who didn't know?"

"Her father."

XXX

Michael ran blindly. He had no plan, didn't even know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to get away. The shrill noise of the alarm was forcing its way into him, taking control of him, and he covered his ears with his hands, desperate to shut it out. It was useless. That sound was everywhere, and the flashing lights were disorientating him. He had to get away from there, he had to put the noise, and the lights, and the very images inside his head behind him. He knew it was pointless, that noise, those memories would follow him forever. He had killed her, his lover, his confident. She had been more than that. She had been his very life. The only life he had known.

And he had, in a split second of insanity, murdered her for a man he didn't even know. What had he done? What was happening to him?

He kept going, knowing he had to be far away from that room before the guards, or worst, Saint, came to investigate. He wasn't looking ahead so when he slammed into another body, he gasped in surprise, raising his ray gun at once.

"Excuse me, Sir." A low voice muttered. "I heard the alarm and-"

"Move aside," Michael barked. He didn't need to hear another word. If the Scarecrow didn't get out of his way, he'd blast it. A cold smile spread over Michaels face. What difference would one more killing make?

The Scarecrow didn't move. "Is there a problem, Sir?"

Michael didn't reply, only managing to shake his head dumbly. The alarm continued to blast it's heinous noise all around them, as the two men regarded each other with distrust.

The drone spoke up again. "Exterminator?"

Michael edged away from the Scarecrow, holding a wary hand out in front of him, though his gun was anything but steady in his grip. He kept moving backwards until his back touched the wall behind him.

"Keep away from me!"

The drone didn't comply at once, much to Michael's astonishment. Instead, it stepped closer to him. He was amazed by it's audacity. No Scarecrow ever went against an order from an Exterminator, the result would be immediate ghosting. But yet, this 'Crow was not taking the hint. In fact, it was getting braver.

"Exterminator Michael, what's wrong?" A pause. "Did you sound the alarm?"

"I told you to leave me." He snarled, using his arm to try and ward off this unwanted attention.

"Where is your mask, Exterminator?"

He stared back at the drone, his mouth opening and closing stupidly. "I.." He stammered. "I..."

The 'Crow took a step closer, causing Michael to instantly recoil in alarm. "Keep away!" He barked.

The other man paused. A beat passed, and then, he leaned in and muttered; "Michael?"

Michael drew away from the newcomer, pressing his back ever further into the wall, his gun clasped uselessly in his hand. He couldn't raise it, couldn't defend himself. He couldn't stand any of this any longer. He just wanted it over.

Very softly, the masked man whispered, as he continued to stare at him intently; "Mikey?"

Michael froze. He gaped at the other man in shock.

"Mikey?" The 'Crow tried again. "What's happened?" The newcomer looked up then, gazing past Michael, at the room just beyond him. Realisation seemed to hit the masked man, and, letting out sharp intake of breath, he shoved past a very confused Michael, rushing to the operating room and pushing open the door, stopping dead just inside the room.

"What have you done?" He grimaced, his eyes fixated on the Co-ordinator's body. "What the fuck have you done?"

Michael couldn't reply. He had nothing to say. He closed his eyes tightly, but that didn't shut out the horrific images. So much blood on his hands, all around him. He was bathing in it.

The Scarecrow was suddenly beside Michael again. To the Exterminator's shock, the man reached out and grabbed his wrist. "We have to get out of here." He snapped. "Come with me."

Michael pulled his arm away at once. "Who are you?" He demanded. "How do you know me?"

"Okay." The Scarecrow's desperation was now evident. "I know exactly who you are, and you know me. We go back a fucking long way, alright? Now, will you fucking move?"

Michael didn't budge. "I've never seen you before in my life."

His new companion visibly bristled at that, letting out a low growl. "Mikey-"

"Show me who you are."

The masked man hesitated. "Not now, too many cameras." He gestured toward Michael. "Listen pal, you have to come with me right now," he urged him. "If you stay here, they'll kill you."

"But what about that man in there. Do you know-"

"Yes, I know him too." A beat. "And so do you."

The Exterminator furrowed his brow in confusion. "I've dreamt about him..." His voice trailed off. The other man watched him, waiting. The tension was now palpable. "You're just going to leave him?"

"We can't help him," came the abrupt reply. The pain was clear in the other's tone. "You can hear that loud siren, right buddy? That would be an alarm ringing because you decided to fire a ray gun blast in the fucking Detention Unit. The flashing lights are the second stage, next will be the gas, and if we get caught in that, we'll be unconscious in minutes. We'll never get him away before that happens, or before they get here to turn the fucking alarm off before the gas arrives. So now, I gotta choose between you. Live to fight another day, Mikey. Now, come with me."

Michael glanced back again at the room beyond that door, and the helpless man he knew was just beyond it. The Scarecrow reached out a hand to him once more.

Much more gently, he whispered; "You have to trust me."

Michael stared at him. He had made up his mind. Grasping the other man's hand, he allowed himself to be pulled, and then, once through the hallway, he tore after him, as they headed together for the exit.

XXX

It was all calm again. The room was empty, and quiet once more, the shrill sound of the alarm shut out by the closed door. The lights flashed though, bright enough to harm the human eye. The body of the Co ordinator lay where the man she loved had left her, broken and defeated, her drone guards lying mere feet away. And, on the bed near by, was the man that had led to her downfall.

She had miscalculated. And it had cost her her life.

The soft, steady beeping of the life support machine grew louder, and faster. A warning that could not be heard, trying to signal that everything was about to change.

But the warning was futile.

Because nobody was watching the sleeping man. No one was there to see what was happening to him.

The machine was bleeping its warning even more loudly, but there wasn't a soul to hear it.

The man moaned softly.

His fingers wriggled, then his hand moved, and then, he lifted his arm.

He groaned, licking his lips.

His eyelids flickered.

He stood, staring at the door before him. The flames were all around him, he could feel the fiery heat threatening to engulf him but he ignored it, concentrating fully on the doorway, and his escape.

Korse was behind him, his cold, spiteful voice booming, trying to halt him, perhaps doing a better job of preventing him from pulling open that door than the flames enveloping him.

"You won't ever be free of me. Do you hear me, you little bastard? You're mine, Gerard."

Gerard turned slowly, facing Korse, his hand on the door handle.

"You can't hurt me any more." He whispered. "See you, Korse."

He pulled open the door, the flames hot against his skin, scolding him.

There was nothing but darkness in front of him. He hesitated.

"Or maybe," he muttered; "I won't."

He pulled open the door.

Korse's last desperate cry rung in his ears as he stepped through the door.

"NOOOOOOO!"

His voice was growing weaker. Gerard kept walking, further into the darkness. The flames, that room, Korse, he was almost clear of them now. They couldn't get to him. They were all fading.

He could hear something else now, something new. There was a high pitched sound, getting louder, getting faster. He blinked, moaning in surprise. There was suddenly a light beaming, right in front of him, and it was getting nearer. He made desperately for that light, breaking into a run. All he knew what that he needed to get to it, that light was his salvation. It was his way out.

The noise grew ever clearer, the light ever brighter.

Closer. Keep going. So near now. The light was hurting his eyes but he didn't want to look away. He was so close now. Nearly there.

Nearly home. Nearly with them again.

"We'll carry on, we'll carry on."

They were waiting for him. They had never left him.

Ray. Frankie.

That voice he had heard, calling for him. The voice that had shown him the way, shown him it was time to leave, time to put it all behind him. Time to leave Korse behind.

"Who are you? Why do I know you?"

He needed him. He was waiting for him.

Mikey.

"I'm coming, Mikey."

The light surrounded him, engulfing him. He cried out, covering his face desperately with his arm.

He kept going.

He was free.

He was home.

Gerard's eyes snapped open.

He blinked three times. All he could see was the light. It hurt him. He didn't want it. He wanted the dark again. He tried to move his arm, and then gasped. He couldn't move.

Why couldn't he move? Was something covering him? Where was he?

"Help," he managed, in a croaky, impossibly weak voice.

No one answered him.

The non stop, flashing light was blinding him. He whimpered.

"Too bright..."

It was everywhere. It was too much. He couldn't bear it. He could smell something too, something that scared him, something foul.

'What that gas?'

This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

He screamed, the first word that came into his head, in pure desperation:

"MIKEY!"

TBC