Surrender was the last thing on Heather's mind

Surrender was the last thing on Heather's mind. They wouldn't kill her. She was valuable. Patience, she ordered herself. You have to be patient, and wait for them to get close, and then beat the holy heck out of them. Her parents had taught her hand-to-hand combat very well. Her mother refused to teach her about guns, but her dad had shown her the fundamentals. If she could get one, well, first she was going to have to take down a couple of bad guys.

Two men and a woman walked in, each wearing white snowsuits. They were all grinning. It reminded Heather of the twins with that rabid weasel grin thing. She wasn't expecting her teacher to suddenly step in front of her, with a sudden aura that reminded her of mom when she was mad.

Janice recognized the woman vaguely. She was British Intelligence, possibly MI5. She'd seen her a few times at least, but what was she doing here? Janice knew that it wasn't the British that were a little upset with her. Wasn't there something about several MI5's going mercenary? That was right about the time Janice had left her unit, and there wasn't any time for anything that was going on with other groups around the world.

"Who are you with?" Janice asked, wondering that for real. If they were MI5, what was the deal then?

"Madame, all we need is the girl," the lead man said in a rather friendly manner. The friendliness didn't go well with the half a dozen men that were entering behind them, each carrying an assault rifle.

One of the other men looked at the woman. "Are you sure she's the Manticore child?" he asked, his British nationality obvious. "She doesn't look different."

They needed the who and the what, Janice thought. What the hell was Manticore, and what did it have to do with Heather? She didn't even see Heather come from around her with all of the speed that her pure Manticore genetics allowed.

For a moment Janice could only stare in absolute shock. Despite her own lightening quick reflexes, and combat skill, this mere child was putting to shame everything she'd ever considered to be the best. She suddenly darted around Janice, and then literally ran up the side of the wall to get around the trio. Before anyone could even breathe, she'd taken down two of the gunmen in a series of kicks. One tried to grab her, but she was in the air, and used the ceiling to back flip before he could touch her.

Janice's paralysis of shock released, and she leapt into action. She grabbed the man nearest her, planting her elbow firmly in his solar plexus. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, and her fist came back squarely in his face. He hit the ground. The other man who had questioned the woman about Heather retreated, and the woman met Janice head on. She was definitely the MI5 that Janice thought she was. Janice blocked her kick, had her block punched, and then staggered back as the woman's punch made contact.

The body of one of her own men suddenly shoved the woman forward. They all knew there couldn't be any shooting, but Heather wasn't intimidated by seeing their guns. She'd seen far more impressive. Janice got a glimpse of her taking down another man, moving around their blows like water. It was too crowded for them to use tasers; the chances they'd hit one of their own was too high, and it was looking like a dozen men weren't enough to take down this kid.

For a moment the woman and Janice were within kissing distance. "Nightshade," the woman murmured. "I thought it was you." Janice shoved her back, this time nailing one of the men after Heather from behind. Her foot caught him in the base of the skull and he collapsed without a word. Janice felt a sharp blow from behind, and everything went black.

The loud whistle filled the air and for a moment everyone froze. Heather had been rather proud of herself. Granted, there wasn't enough room for more than about three to take her on at once, but she thought she was doing quite well. She'd only worked out with people whose genetics were as tweaked as her own, and never actually fought a norm before, so who knew if they were lousy or if she were superb. But now they weren't fighting.

Ms. Miller was unconscious on the floor and the woman that had been on the alpha team was holding a gun to her head. She was smiling. "Tell me dear," she said, sounding like a British nanny or something, "are you willing to kill her to save yourself?"

Heather knew she couldn't yank the gun from the woman's hands and save Ms. Miller. She could grab it, but the migraine headache would incapacitate her for a while, and that was time she didn't have. Maybe this was time for a tactical retreat? Slowly, she put her hands up in the air.

The woman's expression became almost feral. "Good girl," she said. Rough hands grabbed Heather and tied her hands behind her back. Whatever they were using, Heather knew she wouldn't be able to break it. Two of the other men quickly tied up Ms. Miller who was starting to stir a little.

The two men from the alpha team approached Heather. She glared at them both, not acting the least bit intimidated by either. "Well," the first one said, "what do you think of her now? Think she might not be Manticore?"

The second one shook his head. He looked a little in awe of her. "I must say, I am rather impressed," he replied. "I had no idea they were this wonderful. You say she isn't one of the trained ones? What else can she do?"

"She can tell you to kiss her ass," Heather snapped. "You got the Manticore-ling, whatever, now let her go."

The first man looked at the woman who sighed and looked very annoyed that he was considering it. "Let her go?" she asked incredulously. "My God, Hal, as usual you have no idea what we've got here. Not just one, but two finds. This one isn't worth as much as your girl, but she'll fetch a decent price for the right buyer."

Hal flushed, but kept his composure. Heather could see who was in charge of this little venture. Wait a minute; there was someone after Ms. Miller? She was a gym teacher! Who would want the head of a gym teacher? Maybe someone had hard feelings about having to run extra laps during detention or something, but Heather had an idea there was more to it. She'd seen Ms. Miller during the fight, and the woman obviously knew how to fight. They had to get out of this. She wanted to know what was up with that.

"Do we drug her for shipment?" the second man asked. He was still looking at Heather like he was having a hard time seeing her as genetically jumped even after her display. Well, she did look like any regular kid, and she didn't have a barcode, just a weird black blotch that was smaller than the barcodes on the base of her neck.

"Of course," Hal replied, and Heather felt something sting her arm behind her. Her eyes closed, and she frantically tried to visualize the liquid going into her. Pain lanced into her head, as she kept it together within her vein, not letting her body absorb it. She forced the liquid to move in a group, not letting it get away or it would take her down cold. Her head started to throb, but she was using her abilities in a way she never thought she could before. She forced it through her bloodstream, ending it in her bladder. Her mom had said most tranquilizers were neutralized by acid, and were eliminated from the body. Great, now she had to pee.

Heather's eyes fluttered a little, and she relaxed against them. She felt a little dizzy, and her head hurt, but she was coherent. She staggered, faking like she was passing out. What was that drug supposed to do?

"I thought you said it would take her down," Hal hissed at the woman who had come close by this point.

She didn't seem concerned. "She's obviously incapacitated," the woman replied. "We don't know how much will hurt her." She glanced at the second man. "Unless of course you have the specs already?"

"No," he replied. "She's going to be our prototype."

They started dragging her out. She let her head roll back limply. Ms. Miller was on her feet again, dazed from the blow, and being led out as well. This is so not good, Heather thought. As a matter of fact, it really sucked.