Epilogue

The lone figure staggered to his feet and almost fell. He felt hung over. His legs were shaky. Finally making it to his feet, he looked out over the water and the greenery around him. He staggered towards the jungle. Hunger gripped him like a vice.

'Who am I?' He wondered.

'Where am I?' What did it matter? His mind was as blank as a newborn baby.

As he made his way towards the jungle a group of people came out to him. He asked them if they spoke English, nothing. He went through the list of languages, still nothing. 'How do I know all these words?' he wondered again.

The people held spears and as soon as he started speaking the spears fell to the ground. The people bowed to him, reached out to him. They were simple, natives, unlearned, just what he was looking for.

The man wearing only blue jeans and grungy cowboy boots spoke, "My name is Russell Faraday and I have a mission." He doesn't know where the words came from; they just came out of his mouth. At that moment a butterfly flew on his hand and a single word flashed in his mind, "Chrysalis…my mission is Chrysalis!" Russell shouted as if the wind had blown away the fog in his mind.

Russell Faraday began to laugh. He threw his head back and raised his arms. His vision caught sight of something in the sky. A very odd cloud formation, it looked like…a…fox. He studied it, "Not fox…Fawkes…where have I heard that before? I need to get off this island." Russell hoped that these islanders could help him.

Stark stood by the huge window overlooking what was left of San Diego. The past eight months had proven to be very rewarding for him. The flu had worked as planned with better results then what had been predicted. But there was still one loose string that needed to be cut.

A knock at the door shook him from his day dream. "Yes, come in." He continued to stare out the window.

"Sir, we've searched everywhere and there is no sign of Agent Fawkes." The man stated with a certain fear in his voice. This was considered bad news and no one liked giving Stark bad news.

"I don't like it one bit. I want to be absolutely sure that Captain Trips took care of Agent Fawkes before I move on to the next phase. He has been a thorn in my side for far too long now." Stark paused, he then turned to the man standing in the center of his office, "He's out there somewhere…I can feel it. Somehow he was one of the few survivors. I want him found!" Stark punctuated his last word by banging his fist on the desk. "Find him!"

"Yes, sir!" The man scurried from the office, leaving Stark alone again to his thoughts.

Stark turned and once again, gazed out his window. The images of Fawkes dying by his own two hands brought a malevolent smile to his face.

"Life-the way it really is-is a battle not between Bad and Good but between Bad and Worse."-- Joseph Brodsky

The End.