As it turned out, the Special Handling building was indeed large, octagonal, and very hard to miss. Jacob now stood before it, looking up at the imposing, pristine grey façade. Walking up, he looked at the big, sliding metal door, reached up and rapped on it with his knuckles three times. Feeling rather absurd just walking up and knocking on the door of a government building, Jacob glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then shook his head at his own behavior. What are you, some socially-paranoid high schooler? Jesus, man, get a grip.

To Jacob's surprise, the door actually ground open a few moments later, revealing a tall woman dressed in a somber black jacket and pants, her equally black hair combed back into a ponytail, holding a clipboard. Her stern, cold eyes scanned him for a few seconds, then she said "What do you want?" "I was told a… friend of mine had been moved here. I came to see her." "I'm sorry, but visits aren't allowed," she said, and went to shut the door, but Jacob stepped beneath it, reaching up an arm and stopping the door's movement. "Listen," Jacob said through teeth clenched with the effort of holding the mechanized door in place. "You really don't understand. I'm a Corporal in the United States Army, and I really need to see her. So let me in, and I promise I won't make a scene, because I'm pretty sure you folks here don't want public attention – which is exactly what you'd get if a member of your beloved armed forces spoke out against you. Deal?" The woman's jaw worked, and her eyes flashed with annoyance. Clearly, she was not used to being defied on her own ground. However, after a few moments she hit the open button on the door control again, and growled "Fine. Come with me."

She led Jacob back through a maze of identical white-walled hallways until Jacob was well and truly lost in the labyrinthine building, helplessly trailing along behind the black-clad woman and frantically looking around for landmarks. Before long, however, they stopped in front of a metal door flanked by armed guards in the livery of the National Guard. They glared suspiciously at Jacob, who stared back with a withering glower he'd learned from his drill sergeant as the woman he was following slid her keycard into the slot by the door. The portal hissed open, and the woman stepped through, motioning Jacob to follow.

The room on the far side was a simple, unadorned metal-walled cube, bisected by a sheet of plexiglass. On the far side of this sheet was a metal chair, and in the chair sat a slumped female figure, thin to nearly the point of emaciation and hooked up to various tubes and wires. The young woman raised her head as Jacob entered, and through a veil of dirty blonde curls he saw her eyes – blood red, with only a few tiny hints of their original blue left in them – glitter with rage. His heart almost stopped in his chest, and his blood turned to ice. The creature that sat before him had once been his Jessica, yes. But now she was one of the infected, and not only that but a member of the Witch Strain, as he'd heard it referred to at various points.

And then the thing that once was Jessica stopped and tilted its head to one side, its eyes sparkling with… recognition? It feebly stretched a hand – no, a claw – towards him, and he saw its mouth open and close. Is it… talking? Stumbling forward, he pressed his hands to the glass, and yelled "Jessica!" The thing on the other side struggled to get up, but the harnesses of the chair held her fast, and she flinched as some unknown force punished her for her efforts. Electric shocks maybe? Jacob felt his hands ball into fists on the plexiglass, and his heart drummed in his ears. His jaw clenched, and he whirled, eyes alight with a primal rage that made the woman beside him stagger backward in shock, her own eyes wide. "Who did this?" Jacob said, the deadly calm in his voice carrying more weight than any furious shout. "Who ordered her to be put in that chair?" The woman flinched, but didn't say anything, merely ducking out the door. Jacob turned back towards the form huddled in the chair, and mouthed "It's going to be okay." The Jessica-Witch scrunched its brow in concentration, then feebly tilted its head downward in the tiniest of nods. Jacob was about to say something else when he felt powerful hands close on both of his arms, and a deep, gravelly voice said "Come with us, sir." Jacob thrashed in the iron grip, but the two big Guardsmen dragged him struggling out the door, and it slammed shut in his face.

Ow. Jacob spat blood, tasting the coppery tang of it mixed with the bitter taste of concrete. Picking himself up from the ground, he turned in time to see the front door of the Special Handling building slide down into place with a hiss and a thud, sealing off the one passage between him and Jessica. Leaping to his feet, he charged forward and slammed his shoulder into the door in a full-body tackle, roaring a string of obscenities. Staggering backwards and cradling his aching shoulder, he glared up at the imposing building, sucking his split lip. Well. I guess the 'list' is going to have to wait. I have a higher priority now.

Jacob still managed to make it back to the park bench that he'd vacated earlier before the appointed time for his and Wraith's rendezvous, and slumped down on the wood seat. It was all he could do to keep from screaming, and he had the strongest urge to break things, to rend and tear with his bare hands. Flexing his fingers in his lap, he glared straight ahead at nothing in particular, and remained that way until Wraith slid onto the bench next to him. Glancing over at his companion, the government operative tentatively said "So… did it not go well?" Jacob grunted an affirmative, then after a pause said "Wraith… you should know something. Back before all this shit started, I had a girlfriend. Her name was Jessica. I'd known her since even before I enrolled in the army, and we would go out for a movie or three every time I came home on leave. The last time I heard from her was the day the infection hit. She left a message on my answering machine, telling me that her dad – yeah, she still lived with her parents, don't judge her – had come down with something and the house had been quarantined by her mother." Wraith hissed in his breath, grimacing. He could see where this was going. "I went over to John McArthur and asked about her, to see if she'd gotten out okay. He said there was a woman who matched her description being moved to the 'Special Handling building.' So I went there, and after a… blunt exchange with the woman at the door, I was allowed to see her." He broke off here, and after a long, awkward pause, Wraith said "And?" Jacob took a deep breath, and said "She's a Witch."

Wraith leaned back in the bench, and ran a hand through his short mess of curls. After an even longer pause, he said awkwardly "Oh." Jacob's fists were clenched so tightly that his nails drew blood from his palms, and he growled "And that's not the worst of it. She's still her, Wraith. I know it. I saw her. She knew me, she even talked, for God's sake! She's still the same Jessica, and they have her strapped to a chair, full of tubes, hit with electric shocks every time she tries to get up!" Jacob was in full rant now, and he launched up from the bench, standing with his back to Wraith, hands stuffed in his pockets, trembling. Wraith got up to stand next to him, and placed an awkward hand on his shoulder. It was then that he realized that Jacob – Jacob of all people, that indestructible, unflappable warrior who had waded through hordes of infected with an axe in his hand and a smile on his face, who had pushed onwards in the face of debilitating injuries, pushed onwards through sheer force of will until his very legs gave out beneath him – was crying. Crying, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs that wracked his entire body and occasionally came out in a pathetic, choking sound that was obviously foreign to the big man's throat. Wraith couldn't help but be moved by the sight. "Tell you what," he said, gripping Jacob's shoulder. "I've managed to bargain, bribe, plead and order my way into possession of quite a few weapons." Jacob's glance snapped around until he was staring directly into Wraith's eyes, his gaze so feral and excited that Wraith almost recoiled. He restrained the urge, however, and simply patted Jacob on the back, saying "Just like old times, huh?" Jacob reached up and grasped Wraith's hand, squeezing it in a grip like a vice. A wolf grin split his features, and he growled "Yeah. Let's get these bastards."