Author's Notes: So, I realized while I was working on the second section that I inadvertently wrote myself into a corner after reviewing the general recovery time for people with Slade's injuries. Hmm. What to do? I couldn't see anyone (read: Slade) waiting six weeks to rescue Adeline and baby!Grant, but the Mirakuru is out of Slade's system. Except … something occurred to me. Keep that in mind as you read it. So, the semester is over, and I'm off until January 2nd, which means my trip to Houston is in two days and I now have a lot more time to write. Trust me, I've been taking advantage of it. In addition to my various stories (not just this one), I'm nearly done with an original short story which I hope to submit to a magazine in the new year (just as soon as I finish it and get the formatting fixed. Ugh). And yes, if I have the opportunity while I'm in Texas, I'll be working on this … Monday through Thursday, my hotel has a Wine 5 function in the 'living room,' where local wine is served and the guests socialize, so I may be doing that on Wednesday and Thursday. For some reason, wine is very good at unlocking my creativity. In any event, in this chapter, Shado and Tommy get some good news; Slade has enlightening conversations with both Angel and Meg; while more cracks appear in Grant's plans … some physical as well as metaphysical.
Chapter Three
Changes
Eurgh. I'm with Angel. Those two need to seriously stop dancing around each other. They're starting to make me dizzy.
Gulong Shado's lips quirked as she listened to her compatriot rant, before answering sweetly, You know, you could always watch over your father again. I'm sure that's far more entertaining than listening to Slade and Meg's conversation. The lip quirk turned into a full-on smile as Tommy Merlyn grumbled behind her. Truthfully, she thought the relationship between the former mercenary and widow was coming along nicely, considering they'd only known each other for three weeks. Neither trusted the other completely, but that was all right … because Shado trusted Slade to do right by Meg, and she trusted Meg to do right by Slade. They would get there eventually.
In the meantime, it was an entertaining way to torment her companion, who acknowledged that Meg wasn't his type, but even he could tell that Slade cared a lot more about her than he was willing to admit. And as for Meg … hello, Slade still had one working eye, how had he not figured out Meg totally would not say no to a roll in the sheets? Shado didn't bother to tell him that Slade was fully aware of Meg's attraction to him, even if she wouldn't acknowledge it (didn't want to burden him, was how she phrased it in her head).
To further aggravate Tommy, he and Shado could occasionally see flashes of some of the fantasies that danced their way through Meg's mind, much to the woman's mortification (she would be even mortified if she knew that someone could see those fantasies as well, even if they were ghosts, and Tommy, don't even think about doing a visitation to tell her that). Shado had to give her credit, she had a truly amazing imagination.
Dory, who had just joined them, observed, "That's not going to happen any time soon, Tommy. Slade has far too many trust and intimacy issues, as the saying goes, and Meg doesn't have the self-confidence to make a move. It's been a long time since she was this attracted to a man, and she's frightened. More to the point, she doesn't want to make Slade uncomfortable … doesn't want to give him an excuse to leave."
He's plenty uncomfortable right now, Tommy pointed out, and if she could have, Shado would have rolled her eyes. Or swatted the back of his head. He continued doggedly, Well, he is! Although, I suppose it could be worse. He could have a catheter … ow! He glared at Shado, who finally gave into the temptation to swat Tommy (even if it didn't work), only to find out that it actually did. Tommy actually sulked, That hurt, you know. I already knew you were a bad-ass, Shado, you didn't have to … wait. That shouldn't have hurt.
"You're both still figuring out the rules for where you are. Tommy, focus on your mother's spirit. Don't argue with me, just do it," Dory ordered. Shado blinked at the current incarnation of her great-grandmother, because in all the time she'd known Dory, she'd never known the other woman to give orders. Shado could see that Tommy was surprised as well, surprised enough that he simply did as he was told, closing his eyes to focus on that one note in the universe's song that was Rebecca Merlyn. Shado watched curiously as his expressions changed … and then, his jaw dropped. Dory said with quiet satisfaction, "You found her."
She … she's back in the mortal world! How is this possible? Tommy stammered, opening his eyes. Shado swallowed a gasp, because Tommy was right. This shouldn't be possible, and despite herself, Shado was jealous (why Rebecca, why not her?). And Tommy wasn't finished, adding, She … she seems different somehow. There's … something about her has changed. She still feels like Mom, but there's something different about her spirit. Shado glanced at Dory, who was smiling faintly and nodding. In that instant, she saw not Dory, but her great-grandmother herself.
"We know that Rebecca was pulled out of the afterlife. What none of us realized was where she went, or how she got there. We still don't know the who, the how, or the why, but we do know the where. That change in her spirit that you mentioned, Tommy? That's the mingling of her spirit with the spirit yet clinging to her new body. Your mother's spirit was placed within another woman's body at the moment that other woman's heart stopped," Dory explained. Shado stared at her in shock … what? How was that possible?
Tommy opened his eyes and goggled at Dory as well, who continued, "I don't know how it's possible, or even how she knows, but Sevi'anna told me that was the case. Rebecca Merlyn's spirit was removed from the afterlife, and placed in the body of an Ecuadorian doctor named Veronica Morales. Dr. Morales was badly injured during an attack against a Doctors Without Borders camp in Syria … during the fight to save her life, her heart stopped, and whatever entity took your mother out of the afterlife placed her spirit within Dr. Morales' body."
Shado asked the question that she knew Tommy was also wanting to know, What does this mean? All this time, they'd been working under assumptions that could be faulty. Rebecca's spirit was removed from the afterlife, and they had no choice but to assume that it was a hostile entity. But her spirit was placed in the body of a doctor. What if the entity wasn't hostile at all? Yes, yes, she was well aware of what Slade had to say about assumptions, thank you very much, but there were very few benign forces that were capable of removing a dead woman's soul from the afterlife and placing it in the body of another human being.
"I don't know, Shado. However, Sevi'anna suspects that this intervention is benign. There's very little we can do to help Rebecca right now, so we need to focus on this town. Shado, I know you want to watch over Slade, but right now, you need to focus on Adeline and Grant. Slade's in the very best of hands. Tommy, you need to work on reaching out to your father. Much as I despise him, I suspect we'll need him in the future, especially if your mother manages to get back to the States," Dory answered. Shado didn't like it … she didn't like any of it, but she knew Dory was right. There was nothing she could do for Slade, as he wasn't ready to see her (and Meg proved to be very good at Slade-wrangling in the last few weeks). And she knew for a fact that Tommy didn't like his assignment. But they had work to do, and they chose to remain in this part of the afterlife to watch over those whom they loved. Sometimes, that meant looking after other people. Centering herself, Shado reached … and found herself in the warehouse where Adeline and Grant Wilson were held by a possible older version of Grant.
DSDSDSDSDSDS
Slade was almost asleep when Hurricane Angel blew into his room, and his jolt back to full consciousness sent shockwaves of pain through his body. He vaguely heard Meg snap, "Angeline!" There were tearful apologies from Angel, and other sounds he couldn't quite work out through the spasms of pain, and then cool relief. As the pain receded from his consciousness, Slade opened his eye (when did he close it?), he found Lindy standing at his bedside, watching him with concern. Meg and Angel stood on the other side, Angel trembling in her mother's arms, and Lindy asked gently, "Better?" Slade nodded before relaxing against the bed, and the ginger went on, "One of the other nurses stopped me on my way in, mentioned that you hadn't requested any painkiller since you woke up. Angel, your mom and I need to talk to the doctor about what kind of care Slade will need once he's released. Can you watch over him while we do that? Make sure he doesn't overexert himself or try to leave the hospital?"
Angel bobbed her head, still blinking back tears, and Meg said softly, "We'll be back in a few minutes. I know, honey … just think next time, okay? Ready, Lindy?" She kissed the top of her daughter's head, and paused at the door for Lindy. He hadn't known that Lindy was a nurse, though it probably didn't come up. He'd been answering more questions at the Christmas party the previous week than asking them (which seemed to be the norm in Destine). Angel remained a few steps away as her mother and temporary chauffeur left the room together. And she didn't move even after the door closed behind them.
It took Slade a few minutes to figure out why … when the truth dawned on him, he extended the hand that her mother was holding earlier to the teen, rasping out, "C'mere, kid." Angel hesitantly took his hand, and then fell into the chair her mother'd been sitting in earlier, burying her face in his shoulder, weeping, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' over and over again. For just a second, for the second time that day, he wasn't in a Missouri hospital, but back on the island, because Angel reminded him so much of Oliver, it took his breath away. Slade closed his eye, suddenly missing his brother desperately. He turned his face into her hair, whispering, "It's a'right, kid. It's a'right."
Angel cried herself out, her head resting on his shoulder once her tears were spent. She was quiet for several moments, but Slade learned the hard way that was when she was most dangerous. At last, she whispered, "We were so worried about you, Slade. Mom told me that if you weren't home by Sunday, we were putting you in our Book of Intercessions. I asked her if you would be okay with that, and she told me that while she didn't generally believe it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission, she'd make an exception in this case." That made Slade smile, as he suspected it was intended to make Angel smile.
"No need to ask for either. I'm sorry I worried you," he answered, closing his eye. They were both silent for several moments, but the silence was different this time. It was charged, as if there was something Angel wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if she should. Slade didn't prod at her, as he learned from past experience that the girl would have to ask, or she would end up bursting. But as the moments passed and the atmosphere became more charged, Slade realized he would have to give her permission. With a small sigh (small enough so that his ribs didn't cuss him out), he said, "Ask. You're giving me a headache, kid, so just ask."
"I … I'm not sure how to ask. I know you're hurt … Mom and Lindy explained how badly you were hurt. But ... How were they able to take you down?" Angel asked. And then Slade understood. She wanted to know about his captivity. But how did he tell a fifteen year old girl about something like that? He wasn't her father, and he had no idea what Meg wanted her daughter to know. At the same time, was he helping her by protecting her from the evil in the world? After the mistakes he made with Joe, he wasn't inclined to trust his own parenting instincts.
In the end, while it wasn't the way he did things, he sugar-coated it. Angel didn't need to know what it felt like, having fists pound into your body, of the exhaustion that settled over you once the infliction of pain ended, leaving only the pain itself. She didn't need to know about the nights he hung there by his wrists, struggling to focus on things other than the horrific pain, or the way he sometimes struggled to breathe. She didn't need to know about the threats the main pummeler issued to her and her mother, of what he would do to them, and Slade wouldn't be able to stop them.
In the end, he told her, "They got access to a drug that was keyed to my DNA … used a tranq gun. I woke up in the warehouse, to find the three kids who tried to attack us at the petrol station on the first night I was here surrounding me. My wrists were chained together, and the chains hung from a hook attached to the ceiling. And all three of them took part, whether it was restraining me or hitting me. The big one ripped open my shirt, so he could see the bruises he was leaving. Did they hurt me? Yeah. But I've been hurt far worse before. They were amateurs." He wasn't bragging. He was stating a fact.
And Angel was staring at him, tears running down her face. She whispered, "I'm sorry." Slade wiped away her tears with his thumb, before slipping his hand around to cradle her skull, and drawing her head down to rest against his shoulder once more. With Angel settled, Slade closed his eye. The plan was actually to get some rest … of course, all plans need to remain fluid. That was this case this time as well, as the door slowly opened, admitting Lindy (who looked like she'd been poleaxed) and Meg (who was frowning thoughtfully). Angel raised her head at the sound, asking, "Mom?"
Meg smiled reassuringly, saying, "Lindy tells me that you left your book bag in the car. Go ahead and get your homework, Slade and I need to work out what to do when he's released from the hospital. Everything's fine." Except … it wasn't, not really, and Slade wasn't entirely sure what was wrong, what would have Lindy staring at him as if he was … something other than human. Or not who she believed he was. Neither possibility made him particularly comfortable. However, he released Angel's hand as the girl rose to her feet and quietly followed her 'aunt' from his hospital room, leaving her mother and him alone as the door closed behind them.
Meg sat in the chair her daughter just vacated, still studying him with that thoughtful expression. Slade returned her gaze, and Meg finally said, "You were brought in about six hours ago with broken ribs and some internal bruising, some contusions. There were times when they weren't sure if you'd survive. Oh, your heart never stopped, but seeing the injuries …" She paused, and Slade waited, uncertain where she was going with this. Things were to become devastatingly clear before too much longer.
Meg took a deep breath before continuing, "That internal bruising, those contusions … they're healing. Lindy and I spoke with the doctors. The internal damage that the beatings did? They look like they're days old, rather than hours. You're healing, Slade … at a far more rapid rate than … is normal. The doctors want to keep you here a few weeks, but I talked them into a few days. I … I need the time to get a main level room ready, but I'm not willing to risk you. I trust the doctors and nurses, but it only takes one person to let it be known that someone with unusual healing abilities is here. I won't risk you that way. But Slade … do you know …?"
Her voice trailed off, as if she wasn't sure how to continue. So, Slade did it for her, saying, "How it's possible that I'm healing so quickly? I shouldn't be." Meg lowered her eyes, and Slade said quietly, "That drug I told you about? What my brother and our friend gave me when I was so badly injured? It had healing properties … and it drove me insane, like I told you, turned me into a monster. I went after Oliver, because I blamed him for our friend's death. Wasn't his fault, of course, but I was too angry, was hurting too badly to care. You know all of this. What you didn't know was that … during a fight in his city, the kid stuck me with an antidote. It took away the superhuman strength. It didn't take away the madness. And apparently, it didn't take away the healing abilities, not completely."
That was the only thing he could think of, that while the superhuman strength vanished with the antidote, and the madness eventually dissipated, the healing factor remained, at least to some degree. Meg exhaled slowly, before saying, "I got Dr. Prestwick to agree to release you the day after tomorrow. No, don't argue with me, Slade. I need time to get your things moved into a main level room." Slade closed his mouth with a snap, because yes, he was fully prepared to argue her into getting him released today (even though he recognized it wasn't really a good idea. He was capable of compromising, when it was necessary. This qualified as necessary). Meg sat back, murmuring under her breath about which room would work. Slade left her to it, closing his eye. Healing quicker than normal people was fine, but he was still exhausted.
But Meg wasn't finished, saying softly, "We were talking earlier about advantages, and turning disadvantages into advantages. I wonder … your healing ability? Would that be an advantage in this case? I suspect the people who took you won't expect you to heal so quickly." Slade's eye popped open and he stared at his companion in surprise. Meg, for her own part, was looking at him tentatively. He ran the possibilities through his mind … and then he smiled.
DSDSDSDSDSDS
"So. He's been staying with a widow and her daughter here in town. Sounds like the plot to a bad Western … but it's a vulnerability. One we can easily exploit."
Grant Wilson stood with his back to his underlings, staring out of the window. Dillon didn't know if he thought it made him look dramatic, or if he just enjoyed the view. Truth be told, he didn't really care. He didn't care much for Grant Wilson, period. But this is where his family was, and the instinct that guided him from the time he was a child told him that he needed to be here. Maybe it was to protect the woman and child who Wilson was holding, he didn't know. Besides. He had nowhere to go.
And he didn't say anything. He was never really expected to say anything. Grady didn't listen to him, and Braden … Braden went along with whatever Grady wanted. That was an oversimplification, of course, but Dillon didn't have the energy to sugarcoat anything. He hadn't wanted to join the gang, but Grady did, and while his and Braden's father charged Braden with looking after Grady, Dillon's own father charged him with looking after Braden. Which meant he had to join the gang, because … ugh.
He hadn't wanted any of this. Not the initial attack against Slade Wilson (as Dillon now knew his name to be) or on the mother and daughter he was staying with. He hadn't wanted to join up with Grant Wilson, but Grady did, and what Grady wanted, Grady got, damn the consequences to himself or anyone else. And this time, Dillon feared, the consequences were damning indeed, for all three of them. But most especially for him.
He had the terrifying feeling that he wouldn't survive what was coming, especially since he'd seen something he wasn't supposed to. Grant Wilson was slowly vanishing. Dillon witnessed it earlier … saw his hand disappear and then reappear moments later. Worse yet, Wilson knew that he witnessed it, and Dillon saw death in his eyes. He couldn't be permitted to live, regardless of what it meant. But if Dillon was going to die, he was damn well going to take Wilson with him. The older man now said, "What else can you tell me about this woman?"
Grady answered, "She's the widow of a cop, has lived in town for most of our lives. She used to work at a law firm, lost her job around the time your dad got to town, and works for a nursing home now. Goes to St. Joe's. Maybe able to use that, her priest doesn't like your dad too much, thinks he's a trouble-maker." Dillon rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. He'd learned over the last several weeks that his input wasn't required. He was to keep his mouth shut and do his job, whether that was holding Slade Wilson's legs while his cousin pounded his fists into him or taking food to the woman and kid being held hostage.
"Hmm. Being a cop's widow could be problematic. They tend to be very protective of each other's families. What about the daughter? You said she's fifteen … is she involved in anything?" Wilson asked. Dillon shifted and Braden looked back at him, a worried expression on his face. Dillon really wished his cousin would stop doing that. He was going to get them all killed if he wasn't careful (assuming Grady didn't do it first). Not that Wilson was currently paying attention to them. He only did that if one of them actually spoke or tried to interfere.
"She plays soccer. We're still scouting out the practices to see when the best time to grab her would be," Grady answered. Yeah, no, that wasn't going to happen. Dillon paid more attention than either of his cousins did … those girls didn't go anywhere without each other, and it really wasn't worth their while to grab a second person. Besides, had either of them seen the way Angel Carvalho kicked balls? She wasn't the star player, but he still wouldn't want one of those kicks aimed at anywhere on his body.
And Wilson had other ideas, saying, "No … no, trying to take her after practice would be foolish. Focus on soft targets, like when they're out shopping together or something like that. That way, we can use one as leverage against the other. And make sure to do it within the next two weeks, to ensure that my father is still in hospital, so he can't intervene." Oh, it was scary when his mind worked along the same paths as Wilson! Not cool at all! Wilson added, "Oh. And do not … I repeat, you are not to hurt either Margreet Carvalho or her daughter. That will only anger my father and ensure that he won't listen to me. If you need to drug either of them, that's fine, but you are not to harm either one."
That was more than okay with Dillon, although he could tell Grady wasn't happy about it. There were times when he would swear that his cousin liked hurting people. Maybe that was why their respective fathers insisted that someone be there to watch out for Grady. Maybe it wasn't so much protecting Grady from his worst impulses, but protecting other people from Grady. That actually made sense to the young man, far more than the ridiculous notion that people might take advantage of Grady. Yeah, no … that would never happen. Grady was the cocky s.o.b. who hurt others because they 'disrespected' him, whatever the hell that meant. Dillon didn't really care what it meant, up until the time it got him into trouble (yeah, he probably should care more than he did, since it got him in trouble. A lot).
Braden seemed pleased with the orders from Wilson as well, even if Grady wasn't. Then again, despite his desire to go after the mother and daughter initially as part of their challenge, Braden didn't really like hurting people. Dillon's sense of his cousin was that they could scare Meg Carvalho and her daughter, and it would have the same effect. He was wrong, of course … but they hadn't known that at the time. The younger of Dillon's cousins answered, "We'll make sure of that, Mr. Wilson. You figure even if she's inclined to fight back, threatening her kid will make her back down?"
There was a soft snort from the man in front of them as he replied, "Of course. It worked with my mother, and she has far more training that some dowdy American housewife. She's no threat to you three. Just threaten to open her daughter's throat in front of her, and she'll fold like a bad hand of cards." That, Dillon wasn't sure of, but he wasn't about to say so. If he opened his mouth, he risked placing a woman who'd never hurt them in danger … something he knew he couldn't live with. He just wasn't sure yet if he was strong enough to risk his life for someone he didn't know, didn't really care about.
Wilson turned then, adding, "Oh. And when you bring them to me? I will have them checked over. If either of them have been harmed, if I find so much as a bruise on either of them, I'm taking it out of the hide of whoever failed to obey my instructions. My father has always believed in keeping his promises … so I will make you this promise now. If you fail to do as I say, I will end you. Now go. Gather your data. I need to talk with my dear mother again." The cousins moved toward the door, but before they took even a few steps, Wilson added, "Not you, Dillon. You'll be coming with me."
Dillon stopped in mid-step, looking from their boss to his cousins, wondering what the hell he'd done to attract the man's attention. Braden inclined his head toward Wilson, as if to say, 'you heard the man, go on.' Dillon rolled his eyes, but obediently fell into step behind the man. They walked in silence for several moments, before Wilson said quietly, "You don't want to be here. You don't like me, you don't approve of what I'm doing. But you stay. Out of loyalty to your cousins." Dillon forced himself to keep walking despite his surprise.
"I hadn't realized it was that easy to tell," he replied at last, struggling to keep his voice steady. There was a small snort from the man in front of him, but they kept walking. Dillon went on, "Is this the part where you threaten to kill my cousins if I don't do as you say?" Wilson stopped abruptly and turned to face him. Dillon quickly put on the brakes to keep from running into the man, who was staring at him very seriously.
"No, kid. This is the part where I tell you what you probably already know. That you're probably going to end up getting yourself killed, trying to protect your cousins, trying to prevent them from doing something incredibly stupid. This is the part where I ask you to switch that protection from your cousins to the boy we're holding … the boy I'm holding," Wilson answered. Dillon blinked, because really? Yeah, he wasn't telling him anything that he didn't already know, but what was this about protecting the kid? Wilson huffed a laugh, adding, "I know that you've seen my hand phase in and out of sight. That boy we're holding? He's me. I'm from the future. My mother has started changing things … I changed things, by taking them. By the end of the month, I won't exist."
Dillon's brain stuttered to a stop, because … really? His boss was from the future? That wasn't possible! But … he remembered again the sight of Wilson's hand vanishing from sight. And he kept referring to the woman they were holding captive as his mother, when she was his age or maybe a little older. He whispered, "You're from the future." Wilson nodded, and Dillon fought the desire to repeat himself (because with his luck, Wilson would kill him for that alone). It was insane. It was impossible. It … made a terrifying amount of sense. Dillon finally asked the only possible question he could under the circumstances, "Why did you come back to this time?"
"A simple question, with a not so simple answer. I came back to resurrect Deathstroke, the alias that was given to my father. You've seen Star Wars right, and Darth Vader's desire to rule the galaxy with Luke Skywalker as father and son? That was what I wanted. I wanted to bring back Deathstroke, I wanted … I wanted to punish my father's enemies, and make them regret ever hurting Slade Wilson, ever betraying him. That's what I did in my own time. I punished a man whom my father took under his wing, whom he taught and protected, and who betrayed him," Wilson answered. Yes, Dillon was with him so far.
They began walking again, Dillon having to hurry to keep pace with the other man, who went on, "Except, from the moment I kidnapped my mother and my younger self, I began changing things. Each threat I've issued against my mother, my younger self grows more and more unlike me. She tried to make me hate my father, in my timeline. Now, she tells my younger self stories about him, about how she first met him. He was protecting my aunt from someone who didn't take 'no' for an answer, you see. My father, at his heart, is a protector."
Not that different from Dillon's own father, when all was said and done. Wilson was silent for several moments, before saying, "It's too late for me. I can't stop what's been set in motion. Even now, I have two sets of memories battling for dominance in my head … the original timeline and the one I created when I came back. I remember hating my mother for the lies she told me about my father, and I remember the stories she's now telling my mini-me. I can't stop what I started. All I can do is mitigate the damage I've done. I'm reassigning you, Dillon. Your job, from this point on, will be to protect my younger self. You can't protect your cousins any more. You can't even protect Meg and Angel Carvalho. But you can protect him."
With those words, he opened the door to the observation tower where he'd been holding his mother and his younger self for the last several days, since his father was brought here. Grant Wilson paused and looked down at the floor, saying softly, "Human beings are neither totally good nor totally evil, neither one hundred percent protector or predator. We're all a combination of both, Dillon, no matter how you define those terms. Remember that." With that, he gave Dillon a gentle shove between his shoulder blades, propelling him into the room and closing the door behind him.
Adeline Wilson was on her feet immediately, moving between him and her son protectively. He raised his hands placatingly (because with his luck, she'd kill him sooner than the future version of her son would) and said, "My name is Dillon. I've been assigned to protect you. Please don't kill me." The younger version of his boss giggled, and despite his certainty over the last few days that he would die … Dillon had the sudden, irrational belief that everything would be okay.
TBC
Additional Author's Notes: Okay, so … a few things. First, yes … some of the Mirakuru remains in Slade's body. Not a lot, not even enough that could be measured. Not enough to drive him crazy, not enough to provide him with superhuman strength, just enough so that his body heals a little faster than normal. Secondly, the source of the Mirakuru is still on my mind. I know … the Imperial scientists developed it during the Second World War to create an army of super soldiers, but they had to start with some kind of base. I want to delve into that, at least at some point. Finally: future!Grant. Yeah. He's realizing that when you go into the past and start changing things, don't be surprised if things change. So, he's running around with two sets of memories, body parts that disappear, and two loose cannon underlings. Is this a good thing? Not necessarily. It's a pretty good that the two sets of memories will drive him crazy … Mirakuru crazy, complete with hallucinations. Right now, during his conversation with Dillon, he's seeing clearly. That won't last. He knows it won't last. So, he's taking steps to protect his mini-me, before he's too crazy to care that killing his mini-me also kills himself. As for Dillon, I haven't decided what's going to happen to him and his cousins (I don't even know what they look like, which is a bit exasperating). Dillon, I know, is on the short side ... he's in his late teens, around eighteen or nineteen, and at most five six.