Darkness...a comforting warm void that he'd been floating in for an interminable amount of time. Very slowly he drifted back to consciousness, golden eyes opening into harsh bright light. Moaning he blearily took in his surroundings and found that he was in one of BPI's observation rooms hooked to several machines. He attempted to rise but found he was strapped to the bed in which he laid. "Hello," he rasped and could hear someone stirring. Casting the net of his psyche he gratefully found he could feel their mind; it was Linny.

"I'm here, Ryan," she answered softly, appearing in his field of vision, face lined with worry. She laid a warm hand on his smooth forehead.

"What happened," he questioned, unable to remember what occured after he lost control. "Did we take Logan down?"

From her face he saw negative. From her mind he pulled what she witnessed through her eyes and saw the heedless suicide attacks by the Children of the All and Brother Eric's hurried retreat amidst the chaos. The All suffered heavy losses but the main ones eluded capture, including Electra and her adoptive father. Their cover had been blown however, and they wouldn't be recieving legitimate backing or the public's support like they were before. "Let me up, goddammit," Ryan growled.

Linny hesitated at first but found no madness in his eyes, no trace of the demon that had been unleashed on the Church. He rose carefully, stiff and sore. After checking himself he discovered faint traces of abrasions and gashes that were pretty much healed over. Glancing up at Linny he was overwhelmed with feeling for her, slid off the table and took her into his arms, heedless of the fact he was nude under the sheet that had covered him. "You...I'm so glad you came for me," he half-sobbed, clutching at her. She had left his side only long enough to change into some comfortable shorts and baggy sweatshirt, and was acutely aware of his large firm body pressed against hers.

After a few moments she pulled away, wiping away tears of relief that he was intact. That had been one of the few times in her service to the Bureau that she'd been truly terrified. Her dark shoulder-length hair was tousled and her deep brown eyes haggard but she was absolutely scrumptious to Ryan, who'd doubted he would live to see her again. He suddenly perked up, sensing a familiar prescence. Jim! You came out of hiding, huh?

Had to save your skin, youngun, the older man replied. Those g-men appreciate my help and promise not to fuck with me. I can go back to retirement after this.

After a few minutes the old veteran entered the room grinning. Ryan had found some clothes to put on in the interim, but not before the woman got an eyeful of how happy he was to see her. Embracing his foster father, he could tell that something was up from the tense way the soldier held himself.

"Ryan, something's happened yer not gonna be happy about," he told him. Finally he came out with it. "The Bureau for Paranormal Investigation have found your parents and brought them here."

"They WHAT? Only a handful of people even know they exist and are still alive! They'd been laying low for years. What the fuck!"

"It was the damn Church of the All," put in Linny. "They were leaking information about Otis Driftwood and Stacy Robins. So BPI snatched them before any havoc could be wrought by the Children."

"Where are they now," demanded Ryan.

"Get off my bus," screamed the unearthly looking apparition at the man directing him down the corridor. "You fuckers are shielded, huh," the slender wraith observed out loud, taking a seat in the spartan room. The only other objects in the chamber was a small table and two other chairs. Several burly guards positioned themselves in the room, their faces impassive. "Hey Fuckbag," he yelled in a gravelly, not-very-masculine voice. "I've eaten shitheads like you for breakfast. I ain't lyin." He drummed his metal fingers on the table while one of the guards swallowed. The man-if it could be called one-was lean and wiry, wearing baggy, ripped carpenter pants and ratty shirt which read 'Rock out with your cock out.'

The door opened after a moment and admitted three people: Linny, Arthur Santos and Ryan. The two men seated themselves and the slight lady took her place just behind Ryan.

"Tommy, I oughta kick yer ass over top yer head so far you'd haveta pull your shirt down to shit," intoned the pale creature. "A government toadie. Of all the shit-"

"Hi Dad," Ryan said noncommittally. Linny's eyes were saucers; she'd never had any idea of who Ryan's parents were, or why he'd just been called 'Tommy'.

"Jesus fuckin' Bob it's bright in here," Otis complained, blinking his weak eyes. He wasn't all that different since the first time Ryan had met him years ago, perhaps more gangly and sunken-eyed. The straggly white hair (more bleached out than he remembered) had been cropped to just above his shoulders, but he really hadn't aged that much, possibly due to the modifications and chemicals he'd administered to himself over the decades. The metal jaw showed some signs of use, as did the metal hand that replaced the one that had been crushed. The eyes that regarded the three were the same intelligent, calculating orbs from memory.

"What am I to call you," asked the Greek softly. "Otis B. Driftwood isn't your real name and we haven't been able to come up with a real name, a birth name."

He leaned forward, gaze fixed on the bureau administrator. Being a skilled telepath, the backwoods killer was unable to pick up his thoughts. "You can call me your death on two legs, ya Caeser salad."

"Oh I have a good estimate of how many people you've murdered. However there's not much in the way of admissible evidence, but that's beside the point. You're here for your protection even more than ours. You'd hidden yourself pretty well, Mr. Driftwood, and there'd been hardly any disappearances or bodies turning up of late."

"Don't get your hopes up, hotshot," chuckled Otis, his charisma filling the whole room. "I'll kill every last fuckin' one of you if given half a chance."

"You won't be given half a chance," Santos shrugged, his Mediterranean features impassive.

Meanwhile Ryan's mother was in a separate room being interrogated by Agent Bell, whose thick brown hair was mussed from him grabbing handfuls of it in frustration. He was disgusted by both of them, hillbilly psycho butchers he'd classified them in his own mind.

"You know what's kept him from continuing to mutilate cheerleaders and rampage the countryside? Me! I keep him occupied and content you self-absorbed nutsack." Stacy appraised him with gold-brown eyes just like Ryan's, attempting to penetrate the man's brain but found him blocked. Ah well, she smiled her dazzling smile, as yet attractive and aging very little due to Otis's 'treatments'. Tossing wavy red hair she stood and rectified the advantage he'd had standing over her. She was clad in a frilly peasant blouse and a skirt slit up one leg nearly to the waist showing off two perfectly shaped legs, one of which was stainless steel from the knee down. "Don't you think I have a particular charm," she breathed in his ear and the other men stationed in the room suddenly seemed to not exist. "I'm very good at what I do."

"I...uh, I admit you may have a point," he gulped, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. "But what do you get out of the association with that madman?" He unconsciously turned to her, and she pushed her bosom forward, her face inches from his own. He could hear her breathing in and out, each intake pressing her ample breasts against his chest.

"Hardly a soul understands him except me," she spoke very low. "He has a passion and vitality matched by very few others. He lives for the moment and shares everything with me. I love him with all my being."

Pete almost moaned with desire as she ran her hands up his sides. Her full red lips brushed his with a featherlight touch, nearly bringing him to a frenzy. This had never happened to him before, he was burning up with lust for this strange woman and nearly trembling with the effort of containing himself. Of its own accord his hand found a still-supple round breast and cupped it, feeling the nipple harden through the blouse and bra underneath. Bringing her mouth close to his ear she breathed, "Where is my husband? I hate being separated from him."

Exerting tremendous will he stepped back from her, completely baffled by his reactions, and snapped, "You'll be detained as long as is deemed necessary, Mrs. Driftwood." He turned on his heel and got the hell out of there.

"For God's sake, how is this supposed to help us get Eric Logan," demanded Ryan, quite distraught.

Arthur had already explained that the All were making a concerted effort to locate his family to use against him; the young man was blowing off steam. Not to mention the guilt over his primal fight with the cultists when he killed with his bare hands. Ryan reiterated his misgivings keeping a wild sociopath such as his father under their roof was a bad idea-Santos was well aware of the risks involved. His dark brooding eyes widened and abruptly he sped out of the room, Ryan on his heels. Oh no, what had Otis done?

Bursting into the holding room they could see blood and gore covering one whole side of the plain, undecorated wall. All the agents were dead, torn open with deadly precision. "No," cried Ryan, scanning the scene. His eyes rested on a slim body sprawled on the lone table, his father leaning over with his flesh hand gripping her neck, perhaps caressing it. The other, bionic hand dripped blood, chunks and fluids. "Linny," Ryan hollered. Otis looked up while nuzzling the downed woman's face. Leaping across the distance like an Olympic gymnast he tackled the creature that sired him, fortunately sending them against the clean wall. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you," he raved, Otis's faded eyes big and round as he regarded his progeny, taking the pelting fists directed at him.

"Ryan," called Santos. "Ryan, she's alive. Stand aside, the security team is here," he bodily pulled the young man up, casting a steely gaze to Otis still prone. He lay where he'd fallen, unmoving, blood covering his hands and shirt, drops of it on his already filthy trousers. I know she's yours now, Tommy. You guys have everything shielded pretty good else I wouldn't've touched her.

Damn liar, Ryan mind-spoke. Fucking animal!

THAT'S IT, boomed Arhur, having ordered BPI's telepaths and guards to lock things down. Put him in confinement. Meaning Otis, of course. He was pulled out kicking and swearing. Arthur ordered extra Talents to monitor Otis's mind and body and veteran agents to stand guard.

She could feel the struggle between the two great minds: Santos and Logan. Deftly she avoided the bullets whizzing past her lithe body, one thought in her head-she must rescue Ryan. Then she heard the snap of someone's spine breaking from brute force and caught sight of him. She watched in horrorstricken fascination as he bit a cultist's throat out like some fiend out of a fairy tale, tossing the lifeless body aside like it was nothing. The fight raged on, Linny laying down fire and driving Eric and the big blonde to find cover. Then she sensed her fellow agents dying due to the link she had with Jim, who was controlling her movements with his formidable powers. The All followers were sacrificing themselves heedlessly, why? Oh, why? Then she realized Logan had made a hasty getaway, along with leading members of the church. Not thinking she dashed to Ryan to check on him, he whirled and what looked down at her was a horrid caricature of the kind face she remembered. Blood covered him head to toe and his golden eyes blazed with fury, lips pulled back across his teeth in a grimace. Snarling, he wrapped his fingers around her neck and jerked her upwards. The slim woman's feet kicked, inches off the ground. "Ryan," she croaked, beating at him with her bony fists. "Ryan..please..."

She awoke sweating and sitting up on a lab bed, gasping for air. Instinctively she rubbed her neck where Otis had grabbed her, where..Ryan...grabbed her...

"Thank God, you've come out of it," Ryan spoke, relief in his tone. "I'm so sorry, Linny. Bringing my..father here was a bad idea."

She softened at his troubled expression. "Did none of the others survive?" He shook his head negative, she sighed. "What did they do with him? Is he-"

"No, he's under heavy surveillance. So, you got to meet my dad, such as it is." He looked sheepish. "I love him and I hate him. Does that make sense?"

Linny finally grinned tentatively, smoothing a frizzy strand of hair away from her face. "Yes, it does. He's something else, that's for sure." Ryan glanced over at her, saying he needed to know what Otis did to her. He wanted her to tell him, he didn't want to just pluck it from her. Aside from the marks on her neck and some bruises there wasn't a wound on her. Shaking her head she replied, "I don't remember much. I was standing there staring at him, he staring at me, then I was gonna check my cell phone messages. Suddenly one of the men began screaming-I looked over and Otis had pulled his intestines out. The guy was lookin' at his own guts in your father's hands. I started to run to them, one of the agents tried to protect me, ushered me back," she wiped at the tears that had begun falling.

Ryan swallowed and waited for her to continue. "The second agent pulled his gun and opened fire, but Otis fucking dodged the bullets, at pretty much point-blank range. He leaped on him, disarmed him and pistol-whipped him. I could hear his jaw breaking, echoing in that small room. The next guard grabbed Otis's arm to subdue him, but he wasn't counting on his metal hand. He-buried that thing wrist-deep in the guy's chest. It was then me and the remaining guard rushed him," she was reverting to her southern drawl. "I threw a punch, Otis gripped my arm and gave me a sling, I went face-first into the wall. I staggered, tried to get my bearings when I heard this awful tearing sound. I focused and saw him ripping the man open. I nearly barfed, my legs weak as water. He came toward me and I backed away from him till I touched the table. He seemed to slither across the floor and up my body. His-his prescence overwhelmed me and I couldn't move. Then he..touched me with his flesh hand, and the only thing in the world was his face close to mine. It was gross but I liked it. Ugh! Can you understand it?"

"He tends to have that effect on people," Ryan noted drily. Go Dad.

"The last thing I remember is him squeezing my throat, slowly but surely. I tried to hit him but my limbs just wouldn't move. Then the pressure stopped but I could still feel his caress. The next thing I remember is waking up to you."

Ryan came to the bedside. "He knows how you feel about me, he got that from your mind as you slipped into unconciousness. Or, how you felt, since now you know what sort of people my parents are."

Linny shivered, thoughts still on the incident. "He's like some full-sized redneck Gollum, only not quite as slimy," she declared. "Oh Ryan, you're not your father. You turned out fine."

He only hoped she was right.

"You think she'll do it," Anne asked him as they sat in the van full of equipment. Ryan nodded his two-toned head. "I know she said yes, but do you think she will?"

He gazed over at the blonde, sighing. The unsaid statement was 'She's your mother, what do you think?' "Look, you guys pretty much threatened her, and she's not one to threaten with prosecution. Not to mention you won't let her see Dad, for obvious reasons o' course. But for me, since I'm a target for these wackos...yeah, I believe she will."

"Ryan," the older woman began while checking her weapons.

"Jesus, what? What do you want me to say?" Anne started to speak but he went on. "You seen em? My parents? They're fuckin' crazy hole-dwelling psychopaths! I wouldn't trust them as far I as could throw em! Is that what you want to hear?"

Anne gaped at him in astonishment and worry; she thought of him as a younger brother or even a son. "Your father I can sort of see why you'd say that, but your mother? Do you really hate her that much?" The pair sat on either side of the crowded van, their knees almost touching, the other agents busying themselves with surveillance. The young man started in surprise-it was the same thing Stacy had asked him when he went to see her the day before.

"Do you hate me so much, Tommy," his mother asked him, sitting at the other side of the simple table from him. Both her hands rested palms-down on the surface, face expressionless but yellow-brown eyes full of fear at what he might say. "Do you hate me for leaving you with Jim and staying with Otis?"

He'd never even confronted himself about it before, had submerged all thoughts on the subject deep inside. "Yes," he whispered. "but no, too."

A tear made its way down her cheek and still she sat unmoving. "You know why I did it, don't you? There wasn't any time to plan. You'd be taken away, we'd all be put in some institution, or worse."

"I was sixteen, Mom! I had found out I came from a criminal, murdering bunch of rednecks and lost both my mom and dad in the span of a week," he yelled, heedless of the wetness on his own cheeks. The guards shifted uneasily, ready for trouble.

"Who ran off? Who wouldn't take no for an answer," she spat back and was immediately contrite as soon as the words left her lips. "I'm-I'm sorry, Tommy. You're not to blame for anything."

"Have you even spoke with Jim yet? The guy you fucked then dumped for that thing that got me on you, then dumped your kid on?"

She gasped at the jab and his audacity. "Oh Lord Almighty," she breathed. "How could you say that?"

Ryan also was unsure of how that came out of him. "I never realized I still felt that way. Mom, I'm sorry," he grasped her hands, not flinching at the cold metal right hand that moved like her flesh-and-bone one. "I really am glad to see you despite the way I acted. That was uh...pretty uncalled-for. You, ah-look good."

She smiled slightly, squeezing his large hands back. Her face didn't show the passage of time since last time he'd snuck a visit to her several years ago. "You're lookin' well, yerself," she replied. After nearly a decade living with Otis she had adopted a hillbilly twang. What a strong, handsome man he'd become.

"No," answered the man gently. "I love them both. Heaven help me, I love them." Anne wondered at the sadness in his voice.

Go wander around, they said. Get the All to follow you, they said. Jeez, she wished she was back home with Otis. That's fine, though-she'd play their little game for now. Let loose of the Bureau's psychic restraints she cast her awareness about, sure that the Children of the All would be looking for her, and that she was being monitored.

She took in the city, hit several bars (in one night, no less), visited museums, slept in seedy motels. And not alone. Holy shit on a stick, Mom. You goin for the record of World's Biggest Slut?

I'm kinda busy here, knothead. And at least he's still alive. Stacy was at the moment on top of an intimate situation and Ryan was breaking her concentration.

You're supposed to be working here, he reminded her.

Oooh, I'm hard at work. Yeah, boy. Her partner was nibbling some sensitive parts.

Goddammit, I can get Santos to straighten you out. The young man was positively fuming by now.

Whatever, I can do things with my mind too, ya know. Stacy felt her son needed to loosen up a bit.

You don't think he's only learned how to block telepathy all these years, do you? He can rupture your very brain, Mother dear.

She grew very still at that, causing her male companion to wonder what was going on. You're bluffing.

Am I? Arthur is my mentor, I learned from the best. Want me to show you? He sent a jolt through her skull, jerking her backwards. The man with her went along with her movement and got on top of her, taking her gasping and moaning for pleasure.

All right, stop! Fuckballs, I'll behave. The stabbing pain in her skull subsided, allowing her after a few moments to pay attention to what was being done to her physically.

That guy know you have a space-age arm and leg?

He knows I have a fake leg. I just didn't take my glove off. Brat.

Just make sure you're up and at 'em in the morning. Now I think I'm gonna go throw up.

Oh surely you've seen tits and pussy before, I didn't raise you to be such a prude. Oh, he was hittin' the spot now. She'd love to ask Otis if she could keep this one.

Hello, you're my mom. I have enough shit I've done to feel bad about, I'd like to not make incestual voyeurism another on the list.

She laughed. "Nighty-night," she moaned.