Notes: First of all, for those of you who actually speak and understand French, I must apologize; I don't. So, I had to go to an internet translation site to get the language lines I use in here. It was the best I could do, short of learning French, and like I need another class right now... gah.
Once again, I should'a been studying, but I felt some odd urge to finish this chapter... so I will be up quite late tonight studying for some more midterms. Yummy. Enjoy!

Chapter Three

I had just settled into the idea of this being one of those rare introductions where there is no short-tempered-superspy-'could-kill-you-five-different-ways-in-a-minute' agent to have to look forward to working with way too closely, but it seems that I have once again proven wrong.

My fellow 'project focal member' stood there with her ams crossed, leaning on one long curvy leg, sticking her hip out in a way that only dominatrices and super-agent women can get away with (Alex, no surprise, is an expert at such a pose). Bobby and I exchanged glances once more, in a mix of anticipatory rivalry over this tough chick in tight clothes and apprehension of the fact that Alex Monroe looked like cake compared to this one.

"le Pur, meet project I-Man," Dunn said to her like he was taking to a five-year-old -- I swear that I could see a sneer cross her face even through the thick facemask she wore as she peered about the room through those insect-like specs. I wanna know how to do that; give off a total aura of indifference without anyone having to see my face.

"This is..." Dunn began, gesturing towards the Official.

"Aucun besoin d'introductions ; J'ai été davantage que responsable en se rendant familier avec les noms et les visages de leurs membres," she purred out in what sounded to me like native-spoken French.

Oh, and how, you ask, did lil' old me understand a word that came out of her mouth? Well, I haven't always been an ex-con government experiment for my whole life -- almost majored in French during my two-year stint at Riverside, brought on by some interest in my half-ancestry. (Yeah, mom was a Bouvier, quite a fine old French family; almost too bad she married into the thievin', common, Anglo Fawkes clan.) It also helps that I pulled some jobs the year before I got sent up to San-Q in Quebec, which kinda forced me to brush up on my français. Granted, I'm a little rusty, but I got the gist of what she was getting at: 'I already know who they are, you patronizing sod.'

Sod? I've been around Claire way too much...

Dunn stared for a long moment at his charge, clearly frustrated with her, but not surprised. Alma looked as if she were trying her best to stifle a smile -- she was losing, as one of her cheeks was lifting bemusedly. Couldn't help but smiling myself.

"le Pur, it's been a while," Monroe said with an odd tone; I tried to get a bit of a clue into what sort of weirdness was happening, but Alex was wearing the same poker-face that she had maintained since Cross and Dunn had walked in. If there was any one reason that she's a 5-star agent, it's probably that unreadable face of hers. Seduction probably came in a close second.

"Well, buddy, at least we're not the only project with a redundant name," I said casually to Hobbes, doing my best to aid the cause in keeping awkward pauses and smoldering stares from popping up in the meeting.

"'I-Man', 'le Pur'," he shrugged his shoulders, "Not too original; but at least they're to the point, focused..."

"Bi-syllabic!" I added holding my finger in the air, looking smart. Bobby and I nodded to each other emphatically, grinning like 7th graders who had said something smart-assed in class.

"Boys..." the Official interrupted our irreverent banter of the moment, rolling his eyes.

"As I was going to say..." Dunn began again, when the french-ninja chick stepped forward in a fluid motion, bowed curtly to the entire room and announced, "Puits... il est été grand. J'ai des choses à faire maintenant ; au revoir," and strode out of the room without wasting another breath in our presence, leaving everyone somewhat at a loss for words.

"What was that all about?" asked the Official, looking on the unamused side of being puzzled.

"Um, she just said she had some stuff to do," Alma piped up, looking embarrassed, her lightly-tanned face glowing around her cheeks, "we... ah... usually don't make her show up places just to introduce herself."

"Um," I began, pausing and wincing as my hangover-headache was preaching to me the virtues of sobriety, "assuming that there is something that le Pur can do, besides fit into that, uh, jumpsuit -- she is going to actually do her job and not just bite her thumb at us and stomp off when she 'has stuff to do'?" I asked, directing my question unintentionally at Alma, who just happened to be right in front of me and was blushing from embarrassment so much that her face was resembling a shapely tomato with perfect hair. Kinda made me feel bad -- wasn't like it was her fault, so I uncomfortably rubbed the back of my head and turned to Agent Dunn.

"Cuz, frankly," I went on, "I get a little unnerved around our friends from Chrysalis even when I'm there with someone I trust implicitly," I could see Bobby's chest swell in my peripheral vision, "What I'm trying to get at here..."

"Liability, my friends," Bobby began as soon as I trailed off, not able to find the word I needed from my still fuzzed-brain, "I think that's what my large-haired partner here is trying to get at."

"Thanks for the clarification, my hair-challenged partner..." I added, putting in the required modifier for one of our typical back-and-forth chats.

"Any time, punk," he finished, nodding to me like we were both old gentlemen from the South having just wrapped up a most eloquent greeting.

"I must add a similar sentiment," Claire interjected, stepping into the space between me and Bobby, "That was one of the most rude introductions I've taken part in," and then she added under her breath, "even for a frog..."

Let the record stand that England and France are still not friends.

"I--" Dunn was about to start again, when he let himself trail off in anticipation of being interrupted again. Some people just can't get two words in some days; this was that day for Agent Dunn.

"Let me assure you," Alex began, stepping towards the Official's desk, "le Pur has become legend in the intelligence and defense community; she is known for her superior skill in undertaking missions of the highest delicacy and importance. And," she threw another indecipherable look to Alma, "I have worked with her and her project, and can tell you that she was more than reliable then, and I don't see why she wouldn't be now."

"Thank you, Agent Monroe," Dunn said, with light surprise on his voice. I noticed Alex glare slightly at him; she obviously hadn't spoken up for his sake.

"All right, Agent Monroe, we trust your judgment," the Fat Man looked up at Bobby, me, and Claire, compelling us once again to follow suit.

"'Sok then," Bobby said quickly, as always the first of us to kiss that Fat Official Ass and protect his interests. Claire snorted and nodded.

I sighed. This was making my head hurt more. "Fine. We'll see." It's not like my well-being is worth much these days...

I heard the door slam again, and this time it was Eberts, white-faced, barely composed, leaning on the door in hopes that it stayed closed. I assume he must have met face-to-mask with our ever-charming new compatriot. He hurriedly scuttled to his normal place at the Official's right hand, and opened the manilla folder that sat in front of the Boss. You know, it's not like the Official can't spare the calories that would be expended by opening up his own documents to read, or getting up to fetch his own coffee, or scratching his own... Yeah. Anyway...

"Would you care to fill my team in on our upcoming assignment?" he said, looking towards Cross and Dunn. I think he was trying to spare himself from the inevitable comments that would come from the peanut gallery, AKA, me 'n Hobbes.

"I'd be delighted to," Agent Cross said with another smile that was by far too wide for any government agency. "If you would all turn to page four of your briefings..." she waited for us to open up our books, resembling a kindergarten teacher waiting for her kids to get out their paper and red crayons.

"Ah, Miss Cross... I mean, Alma," Eberts began all of a sudden, his voice quivering more than usual, "Do you need a copy?" He held up a briefing.

"Oh, thanks, but no. I have it memorized," she grinned an extra-cute grin to Eberts, tapping her temple with her finger to emphasize. Ebes stood there, stunned and impressed and so obviously smitten.

"Just to get us all started in the same place, since I'm not sure if you have stumbled upon this fact about our favorite Evil Empire, but upon the last mission that le Pur undertook involving Chrysalis, we discovered the encompassing goal of their network," Alma began, taking on a note of seriousness that she hadn't even given a hint that she possessed before, as she adjusted her fashionably-geeky plastic rimmed glasses.

"Yeah, yeah, the whole 'We are technology' B-S..." Bobby dismissed with a waving hand, feeling that we had the scoop on things for once.

"Ah... actually, that is only a means, not the end..." Alma said delicately. Hobbes pursed his lips puzzledly and peered at her for a moment, then turned to me, as if I had a better answer. I shrugged.

"But what could they be possibly be hoping to accomplish, other than to control the progress of technology in this tech-dependent world we live in?" Claire asked, wearing her wonderfully attractive look of intense concern; you can just tell that her brain is working a mile a minute.

While everyone was busy conjecturing and acting shocked at the fact that there was even more badness in the Chrysalis camp than we realized (though it should have come as no particular surprise), I simply decided to take a peek at the nice big file that I had open in front of me. Page four... blah blah Chrysalis, blah blah genetic engineering, blah blah immortality, blah blah global takeover... woah. "Um..." I raised my hand hesitantly, interrupting Claire, whom I hadn't noticed had continued talking since I last listened. "Can we discuss this 'Immortality' and," I paused, looking down to get the words straight, " 'time-punctuated gradual global takeover?"

"Wha-a-at?" Bobby frowned as he hurriedly flipped through his file to find where I was. Claire and Alex both decided to look up at Alma and Dunn for answers.

"Congratulations, Mr. Fawkes, you found it. In fact, the whole goal of the Chrysalis movement is to outlast everyone. You're well aware of the genetically engineered children that they have created?" She looked at each face in the room, Alex's the most disgusted by the mention of the genetically engineered children.

"Do we ever..." Bobby grumbled, glancing up to Alex.

"They are, in essence, creating a super race of humans -- all impervious to the diseases of aging, resistant to bacteria and virii, and have had their DNA and RNA transcriptase enzymes carefully altered, along with an extra telomerase enzyme, so that their cellular structure will remain static at the equivalent of age twenty-five, in theory." Alma rattled off without even a stutter at words that I have absolutely no clue to the meaning. Claire, however, was staring, again, with an intense look of deep thought.

"And, with that..."

"I see... they plan on outlasting everyone else," Claire interrupted, more in speaking to herself than to us, "With age comes information, resources, technology... everything..." she trailed off with a look of horror on her face. That look always has a way of making my stomach turn in knots, and in addition to my persisting hangover-headache, left me feeling somewhat nauseous.

"That's not a happy face, Claire," Bobby said in concern, "All this hoo-haa isn't possible, is it? None of this 'transcrip'-whatchacallit, it's not plausible, right?"

No response.

"Claire?" I asked, trying to make eye contact.

She shook her head and looked down. "It's... it's possible, in theory..."

"Craaaap..."

"Don't get down yet," Dunn broke in, and nudged Cross, who had become somewhat engrossed in our private 'team I-Man'-only exchange.

"Oh, yes, um... So as far as we know, and as far as our own scientists who have studied the information obtained have concluded, they have achieved such. However,"

"However? I like howevers," I interjected hopefully, nodding to Hobbes, who nodded back with the same enthusiasm that I had.

"...However," Alma barely suppressed a grin at me, "the procedure is not perfect. As we know from having tampered with nature before, there are always costs to what we might gain through genetic tinkering. In this case, the sheer energy that is required of the bodies of these individuals due to the increased intricacy of mere cell division seems to have a twofold consequence. First, is that cellular regeneration is greatly compromised when it comes to actual wounds, and muscular strength in some individuals is compromised. That is a simple matter of the body not being able to produce enough ATP to make the 'perfect' cell divisions.
The other major side effect is even more of a hitch in Chrysalis' plan: to control some of the metabolic functions that are increased by the cellular stasis, the individual's own brain must compensate some of its own resources to regulate the body enough to stay alive. This draws energy in general away from the brain, and also pre-empts an alarming portion of the cerebrum into a medulla oblongata-type 'lower function' regulating system, thereby compromising intelligence as well. This, if you are at all interested in reading more about, is detailed in pages fifteen to twenty-eight in your briefings. Oh... and there is a disk in the back of yours miss... um... I'm not sure I got your last name, Claire," Alma said, looking apologetic.

"Oh, it's Keppler," Claire said casually, flipping to the back of her paper stack to find a green CD-RW waiting there for her enjoyment.

"Ah... ah..." Hobbes was staring in disbelief, looking back and forth from Claire to Alma to Me, pointing confusedly.

"What is it, Hobbesy? Want a shiny disk for you too?" I asked him, cocking an eyebrow. He looked at me desperately.

"I've been trying to find out Claire's last name for almost three years now, and out of the blue, she just goes and tells someone," he told me in a stressed whisper, grabbing my shirt collar. "I've gone through her trash, her purse, the Keep, the files, everything and her last name was not there!"

"Didja ever just ask her?"

At this point Hobbes looked very, very unpleasant, and sat down heavily with his arms crossed. He peered at me with his 'smart-ass' look, like I had just insulted his grandma or something.

"Anyway, getting to the actual mission itself..." Alma said, trying to lead us all back into what she was so graciously trying to get out to us.

"You mean there's more?" I whined, rubbing the back of my head. Kind of made me think for a moment about her comment about messing with nature; I was a prime example of that. However, my tampering-with-nature had been tampered with even further by an evil genius, so... well, it's not exactly the same, but illustrates just as well how these things can go wrong oh so easily. So easily.

"Yes, Mr. Fawkes, there is, so if you would ever so kindly let Agent Cross continue..." Agent Dunn said to me in the way that someone would chastise another person's kid at movie for misbehaving.

"It's ok, Martin, I have this under control," Alma told him with a sidewise look. Dunn stiffened as Cross turned back to us once more. "We have come to believe, through various evidences and raids, that Chrysalis has a center based in LA where they are attempting to remedy these side effects, and at whatever means necessary, which includes murder, kidnapping, and stealing the life's work of a superlatively brilliant geneticist named Dr. Robert Giancoli.
Dr. Giancoli, who himself passed away nearly two years ago left countless files, journals and other information on genetic engineering and genome mapping. His work was to be entrusted to both the US government and his protégé, Dr. Eugene Chi. But his estate was raided before the files were moved to a government safe hold where Dr. Chi was to continue the work.
We know that Chrysalis has been doing live experiments on human subjects, some which are actually children who have undergone the gene enhancement, others are kidnapped from the street and then held until they die or are 'euthanized.' Our mission is to retrieve solid evidence of the activities at their facility, and, if possible, collect the files that have been stolen and liberate any imprisoned subjects, children or kidnapped."

"Bastards..." Hobbes muttered, looking down at his file in disgust; he had caught a particularly heart-wrenching picture of a 5-year old child being injected with a large needle into her left temple. His eyes snapped up, filled with an unusual rage, "Boss, when can we go and teach these mofos a lesson that they don't go messin' with kids on Bobby Hobbes' watch?"

"Stakeout begins tomorrow night. Team will be you, Hobbes, and Fawkes, accompanied by the Keeper in case of medical or counteragent emergency, and will rendezvous with le Pur and Agent Dunn at a designated spot in Orange County...."

"Excuse me, but why am I being left out of this venture? I can tell you that I'm better suited for this kind of excursion than Mr. Vanishing Cream here," Alex Monroe cut in rather sharply (ha ha), nudging me out of the way and getting into the Official's stern face. Vanishing Cream? That's a new one; gonna have to add that to the list.

"Conflict of interest, Ms. Monroe, and you know that yourself," came a voice from behind us. Dunn stood there, he and Monroe once again delving into a staring contest, his smug, hers as pissed as all hell.

"No one knows how these operations of theirs work better than I do, and I don't care if my son is or was one of these kids; I would want to save them no matter what my own circumstances were..."

Cross walked up beside Alex and placed her hand on Alex's arm. "Alex... James is there."

Alex, and everyone else for that matter, turned to Alma. Monroe grabbed Cross by the shoulders and shook her once, her face wild with a look that would have prompted me to quicksilver and run home. But somehow, Alma continued to stare sadly into Alex's eyes.

"You knew about this earlier and you didn't tell me? MY son is being made a lab rat in some Godforsaken Chrysalis HOLE and I wasn't informed until now? And now you won't let me go... but you'll let good ol' Martin here take part?"

Um... what does Agent Dunn have to do with this?

"Alex, let her go, you're gonna hurt her," Dunn, looking strained, grabbed at Alex's shoulder. She whipped back violently, turning to him with a look of sheer madness on her face.

"YOU. I know you had something to do in keeping this from me. James could have been your son as far as things were going, but you can take part in this. So help me, if you end up endangering..." she went on, poking Dunn's jacketed chest with a sharp finger.

Um... His son?

"Listen, Alex, you know that I have no attachment to your kid, and let's not go into this for the thousandth time," Dunn retorted in a tired, almost rude tone. Yeah, just go and throw some gasoline on the fire, a whole drum.

"You never change, do you, you cold-hearted, bureaucratic, son of a bitch," she snarled, her nose inches from his.

"Monroe..." the Official said uneasily, nodding to Bobby to try and step in to stop this before it went further.

"C'mon, Monroe, let's back off... --ooof--" Hobbes tried to lay a hand on her to draw her back and instead was the grateful recipient of a pointed elbow to his abs. He doubled over for a moment, glaring up at me as if I had done something wrong.

"I didn't tell you to go to and get artificially inseminated while you knew the risks of being such a high-profile agent in something like that. I take no responsibility for the last claw-holds of your femininity and your blaring biological clock," he said to her, his droll tone from earlier moving into an indignant, defensive 'I-told-you-so.'

This whole scene was making my head hurt even more: Monroe, now so irate that she was holding her fist back to deck Agent Dunn, who apparently had something to do with her decision to have a child via frozen-pop, and Bobby was posed behind her, doing his best to hold her fist back in the wind-up position, now that he was somewhat recovered from the cheap shot earlier, and the Official was shaking his head with Eberts offering him an antacid... oh, and Claire was still wonderfully oblivious to this, her nose pressed into the binding of her briefing.

"Madhouse..." I said to myself, rubbing the back of my head.

All's we need now is me going QSM....

*

Crap.

Headache; check. Counteragent shot after rough, fuzzy-memoried weekend; no. Last timed checked Mr. Snake; Don't remember.

I turned over my hand, knowing what I was going to see, and just feeling the rush that was making its way up to my head to tell me the wonders of plunging into the world of the mad. One segment green.

"Claiiiire........" I said, trying to brace myself to ward off the impending pain that was coming.

"Hurm?" she grunted from deep within her reading, figuring that my cry was a part of the argument that was still going on between Dunn and Monroe.

"I need a Sh-OOOt--- Arrrrrrgh!!"

That first migraine-on-steroids is always the best; not only am I in call-out-for-mommy pain, but I'm going to be a homicidal lunatic in no time at all. I slapped my hands over the back of my head in the way that I always do when this happens, which is perpetually too often. In a pain-gasm I flopped down into the chair, and then felt myself writhe to the floor, my eyes clenched shut.

"What's wrong with him?" I heard Cross ask loudly, and the commotion suddenly quiet down as the noise I was making moaning and thrashing increased proportionally. I felt her hand touch my back gingerly, "Agent Fawkes!"

"Aw crap, not this..." Hobbes said. Yeah, my sentiments exactly.

"Bloody...!" was all I heard from Claire. Felt her grab my wrist, "Sod it all!" and heard her boots from towards the door.

"Hello? What's wrong with him?!" Cross asked, her voice full of confusion.

Hehe... pretty one with nice hair. We want her.

Oh no. I knew who that was: Mr. Naughty, as he had become known to me. See, when the madness sets in, it's like I have two voices in my head, Me and Mr. Naughty. When the madness is there, Mr. Naughty gets very pushy and suggestive to me, and at the same time my resistance to impulsive, naughty thoughts goes straight down. Thus accounting for how I can remember a lot of what transpires when I'm in the QSM. I'm like Pinocchio with Marilyn Manson as a conscious.

Just stop hurting!

Okay, buddy, let's go then. We're gonna have some fun now!

"Alma, get away from him... he's a little on the dangerous side right now... Claire's coming up with the counteragent," I heard Bobby tell Alma, his voice full of urgency.

"You mean this happens when that Quicksilver Madness comes? I thought that that was under tight control and supervision," Agent Dunn spat out disgustedly.

"Yeah, well... Fawkesy had a bit of a rough weekend, ok, and we didn't have time to visit the Keep before we had to get up here to have this fine introduction to you people," Bobby, so nice, always covering for me.

Rough weekend? They don't know the half of it! We've just had the worst time of our life and we get this kind of treatment? They really suck, don't they?

Yeah, I guess they do.

Are we done hurting?

Yeah.

Good. Since we can't do anything right for them, then let's get a little piece of stuff for us, shall we?

I don't know...

Come on, don't be a baby. You know that the new girl's gonna taste really good. And you'll feel great after you throw someone out of the window.

Maybe...

You like throwin' stuff, right?

Heck yeah!

C'mon, buddy, just follow me and you can't go wrong!

Boy, I'm a sucker for Mr. Naughty. My head had stopped burning, and I could finally open my now wonderfully bloodshot eyes that kinda resembled 'Satan-posessed Marlena' on Days of Our Lives. I saw Alma still kneeled over me, with Bobby behind her, trying to rush her away.

"Where you takin' her, Bobby, buddy? Don'tcha trust your partner with the new filly next to him, hmmmm? hehehe," I do recall finding myself really funny for no particular reason. Snatching my hand out faster than possible for a sane me, I took hold of Alma's arm before Bobby could pull her to safety. I pulled her close to me, sniffing her hair in a very creepish way as I pulled the both of us to our feet.

"See, she's safe right here, aren't ya, my pretty girl with the perfect hair," I blurted out everything that I had been thinking about earlier, part of me cringing at that. I felt her tense under my grip, and boy, did it ever turn Mr. Naughty on big-time. I began to inch for the door, thinking that I could slip out and take her somewhere that we could be alone, but I found Dunn and Monroe quickly in front of me with the ability to knock me out. So we scuttled towards the window.

"Okay, so you're not gonna let us have any privacy. I don't mind giving you all a show," I turned my face into her hair, and kissed her ear. She shuddered, and I grabbed my hands across her chest tighter, then roughly sucked on her neck.

Oh god, what am I doing?

"Fawkes, let her go," the Official said to me softly but solidly. I smiled at him crazily.

"Hey there Mr. Charlie Borden, Fat Man- Fish..."

"Fawkes, c'mon buddy, get a grip on it! I know you can control this if you try," Bobby tried his best to cater to what was left of my sane side.

"NO! I like being here, I like having control over everyone around me, like how I want to run my hands through Miss Alma's perfect hair..." and I creeped my fingers over her scalp and sensuously ran my fingers through a few times. I could feel her shivering each time I did it, and my own breath sped up with each run.

"Fawkes! Try!"

"I...." suddenly, I felt Mr. Naughty disappear for a moment in time. I could see myself and what I was doing to her, in front of everyone. I looked down at her, and saw the panic on her face. "I'm sorry Alma... I don't mean any of... hurk......"

And then Mr. Naughty was back.

What do you think you're doing, listening to them? They cause all your problems, you know, you could have had your life if it weren't for them and what they've done to you, putting a gland in your head, holding you hostage with the counteragent. You hate them!!!! You HATE!

I positioned my hand over Alma's neck, the other one fiddled with a window latch. I peered at everyone slowly, waiting for them to do something, to try and hurt me, to stop me, to hold me back like they always did!

"Partner, it's been a rough day for you, I know, I've had a few of my own, but we all need to just settle down," Hobbes went on, seeing my change in stance.

I frowned in a markedly ugly fashion. "Rough day... yeah, Partner, I've had it rough. I've had my whole life as a 'rough day'... Ruined, you know... You know what? Just a couple of weeks ago I wanted to be just like you, I thought that my life could be something worthwhile even without Mr. Fun gland, but noooooo, I have to become Mr. Useless instead! Well... I've seen the light. I need to take things into my own hands," I took a quick look down at Alma, "And look," I smiled sinisterly, "I have something in my own hands, this harmless girl with perfect hair and a smell of strawberries. I was gonna have her, but now... she's coming with me."

Instead of just opening the window as I had originally intended, I just sent my fist flying through it, sending shards into my skin and glittering Alma's hair with shiny sparkles.

"Fawkes... don't do this..." Hobbes said to me, even more urgently. I could tell he was getting ready to jump at me, because he could tell that I was planning on taking things into my own hands... by jumping from the window with Alma in my possession.

"I'm nothing, Hobbes, nothing. I've become only a receptacle for your 'focus team member', Mr. Gland. You don't care, you don't understand... you just want your pay. Claire just wants her research. Alex wants someone to belittle. And these two, you, Cross, Dunn, you just want a new freak in your show! No..." I could hear the honest despair dripping from my maddened voice. All the hurt that I had been bottling up was shooting forth like cannons at pirates.

"No! Don't hurt her!!" someone screamed at me from behind. I felt fists pounding on my back, and turned my head to the side to see lil' ol' Eberts trying his best to save his new prospect for a female match.

"Get off'a me, you spineless twerp..." I spat, backhanding him with my bloodied hand, sending him flying behind the Official. I must admit, though, that was awfully brave of the guy, and that was also the first time I saw the Official get out of his seat for Eberts' sake, as he knelt down to see if he was injured.

I suppose that distracted me enough so that Agent Cross, who I forgot was an actual agent, in a swift motion, grabbed me by the arm that was holding her and flipped me onto the ground sharply. Ohboy, did that tick off Mr. Naughty.

Nasty bitch! She just attacked you! She's just like all the rest of 'em. Choke her.

No.

DO IT!

I snarled and turned over, looking up at Cross, her face hardened and upset; it actually surprised me to see her like that even in my nutso state.

"Jump him!" Bobby shouted, and I felt the weight of three Agents atop me: Dunn, Monroe and Hobbes.

"GET OFF'A ME! DAMN YOU ALL, JUST LET ME DO SOMETHING FOR MYSELF!!" I heard my own voice screaming and wriggling, all the while wanting nothing more than to get my fingers circled around that slender neck of Cross' and squeeze the life out of her.

It always amazes me how much strength I have when in QSM, because I managed to buck off all three of these trained agents; granted, the only reason that I was still in the land of the living was that they didn't want me or the gland damaged, the gland part of that equation making the paranoid/depressed/suicidal/homicidal me all the more irate.

My hands went straight for her throat, "Nice meeting you, Alma, and 'm sorry I messed up your hair," I whispered to her as I began to squeeze, and kissed her savagely on the lips. I'm quite the romantic, aren't I?

"Everyone, DUCK!" I heard a millisecond after the door burst open, and I turned to look just in time to see Claire with her tranquilizer gun zeroed in on my chest. I looked down and saw the pin sticking into my chest, its load of sedative delivered. The room began to swim, and for a moment, everything seemed so clear again.

"Sorry..." I sputtered to Alma as I let go of her and toppled over on top of her. The room went black.

Hehe, we had some fun this time...

Shut up, Mr. Naughty...

*******