In the wake of Kat's exit, the only sound for several minutes was Mereii's harsh breathing and infrequent sniffing as he held his head back in an attempt to stem his enthusiastically-bleeding nose. After a while, when it had more or less stopped, he gingerly removed his hand from the area, blinking his swelling left eye-

"Well, well. Who'd've thought." said a voice. Mereii started, snapped his head to the left and stared straight into the twin green vortexes of Chet Karos's stare. He gasped involuntarily - he hadn't even registered that the man had moved, let alone crossed the room and crouched down barely a metre from him.

Chet was grinning with what looked to the psychologist like barely contained glee. "You know, she put up with you for nearly twenty seconds longer than I thought she would. That's quite an achievement. Of course," he said, settling into a more comfortable cross-legged position on the carpet, "some people have had more practice. Take me, for example. I had to put up with you for five years, three months, and nineteen daysI should probably get some kind of award."

"Stay away from me." said Mereii warily, craning back against the wall. Chet raised his brow in mock-offence.

"That's not very friendly, now, is it? Anyway, she won't be gone for long. Just around the block, to calm down. I shouldn't think that'll take her any longer thantwo hours? Till then, it's just you and me." The grin got wider. "Isn't that nice?"

Without taking his eyes from Mereii's face, Chet reached out a hand and picked up a dark hanging shape that had been draped over the back of a nearby chair. The psychologist's jacket.

"Just taking a quick look. Is that all right?" he asked, mildly. Then, flipping the jacket over his knees, he started to go through the pockets.

Mereii watched in seething silence, perhaps aware that there wasn't anything he could say that was likely to deter his ex-patient at this point. Chet rummaged for a few moments before hiking an eyebrow in satisfaction and pulling out a slim leather wallet. "Nicematches the jacket, too. Lesseecredit cardcredit cardcredit cardwhoah, Johnyou think you have enough?" He stopped flicking and removed a card from its plastic sleeve, holding it up to the light. "You might probably want to cancel this one," he said, helpfully. "They're going to announce receivership at the end of this financial month."

The look the other man gave him then, sheer hatred that was clear even through the colourful beginnings of a spectacular black eye, made it clear that this advice was not appreciated. Chet shrugged and continued to poke through the wallet. "Ah, a driving licence" He studied the document. "Yup, it's definitely youthough I have to say I'm surprised. I wasn't sure iflike you showed up in photographs. Or was it mirrors?" Chet grinned. "Never could remember."

He refolded the paper and tucked it back, then flicked through the remaining sections of the wallet, a slight frown slowly gathering on his forehead. Finally he looked up. "Don't people usually have photos in their wallets, Johnny? You know, family, friends" Leaving the query and the inference deftly hanging in the silence, Chet glanced into the bill pocket, snorted, and tossed the wallet to one side.

"What else" A pocket jingled. Chet ferreted in it and produced a set of car keys. "Hey, this is a nice car, John." he said, after a moment's scrutiny. "Really. I bet lots of people would like a car like this."

He aimed the keys after the wallet and rummaged on. An inside pocket surrendered a small, dull grey cylinder, with a couple of buttons along its smooth length. After a minute of experimental fiddling, the thing revealed itself to be a miniature optical torch, producing a thin beam of bright white light that pierced across the darkened room right up to the far wall.

Almost immediately, a pair of wide, wide eyes framed by a shock of blond hair reared up from the back of the sofa. Mereii jumped, but this new apparition ignored him - evidently fascinated by the brilliant glow.

"Wow, that's pretty!"

"You don't want it, Star," said Chet, offhandedly, clicking the torch off and dropping it back into the pocket. "He's touched it."

"Aww" whined Star, and dropped from sight again with a protesting creak of sofa springs. Chet half-shook his head, then turned his attention back to the jacket. "What else? Changea paperclipall a bit mundane, isn't it? I must admit i was expecting something a bit moreah."

From the very last pocket, he slowly drew out a small, flattish box. It was the same kind of metal grey as the torch, and it opened with a touch.

Inside, packed carefully in shaped moulding, three loaded syringes gleamed.

Chet stared at them. Their glassy, dangerous glitter was picked up and mirrored in his eyes, and his long fingers curled carefully around the box in an unconscious claim.

"Well," he said, after a moment. The word escaped him in a soft laughing breath. He looked up at Mereii, who had gone very, very still.

"One for each of us, Johnny-boy? Was that the idea?"

The right-hand ampoule was filled with a deep purplish liquid, while the one in the centre practically glowed a happy blue. The left-hand one, however, was a fevery, emerald green, and it was this that Chet worked out of the moulding and raised to eye level.

"Which one was meant for me? This one, maybe?" There was a tiny plastic cap on the syringe's tip. Delicately, he picked it off, turning the instrument back and forth so that beads of light slid along the long, hairfine point. "What does it do?"

"Get that out my face, Karos," snarled Mereii. "I'm not scared of you."

"Really." said Chet, and there was nothing light about his tone now. "That's why you're sweating, is it? That's why your pulse is racing, your pupils are contracting, your skin's paling as blood rushes to your oh-so-efficient brain as it races to work out how to save itself." He shook his head, his smile widening. "You and your drugs, John, you have no idea how sensitive you've made me. I can read you like a book, and right now you're making very interesting reading." He slipped his fingers into the syringe's grips. "Tell me, psychologist, what's the clinical term for fear of injections'?"

Mereii said nothing. His face was the colour of elderly whitewash where it wasn't involved in the bruise, his adam's apple convulsing like a Ping-Pong ball in a sock.

Chet's smile reached Carrol-esque proportions as he held the syringe upright, tapping it to dislodge the air. "You know, I've watched you do this so many times, I could probably do it in my sleep." he remarked conversationally, then with a speed and force that belied his calm demeanour he reached out and yanked the psychologist's right sleeve back to his elbow. This provoked a strange startled yapping sound, as if the doctor couldn't decide whether to retch or scream. Then Chet raised the syringe, and clinched it for him.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHGETOFFAMEEEYOUPSYCHOLEGGO!" Mereii yodelled, the unmistakable hysteria of pure phobia rattling in his voice.

From the sofa, the shock of blond hair rose again and looked sharply over. The shock's owner, who still looked very much awake, leaned over the back of the couch, his blue eyes twinkling from behind the jaded walls that had been formed.

"What'cha gonna do?" Star asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing," Chet replied, smiling viciously at John, still holding the needle in front of the terrified man's face. John looked like he was going to get a heart attack any second now, shaking, his face stark pale and eyes widened to the size of wheels on a matchbox car. He was curled back as far as he could from his ex-patient, but Chet's grip on his arm was like a vice.

THWUMP.

The room shook oh-so-slightly, and from the room beyond the kitchen there came a couple of heavy clanksand a final whudd that made the floor shudder and a spindle-legged wooden cheetah-thing dance off its precarious perch on the windowsill and bounce on the rug. Chet paused, then shook his head impatiently and turned his attention back to the matter in hand.

Footsteps in the kitchen, then the door opened and Otto strode into the main room. Strode' was really the only appropriate word, with all the confidence and composure that the word suggested, and no wonder either. Far from the weary, straightjacketed, dishevelled trauma survivor of the night before, he looked as if he had stepped right out of what Escher might have whimsically labelled the old days.' The tentacles curled up around his sides and over his shoulders, unfurling claws brushing against the upturned collar of his long tawny trenchcoat. Underneath, the shine of the spinal brace bisected a loose dark red duster and heavy charcoal combats, the hem of the trench sweeping against the ankles of his scuffed army boots as he walked. Walked taller, too, as if far more than just a couple of pounds of circuitry and smug blue lights had been removed from the weight he carried. His hair was an untidy glow of hazel, and his eyes were half-hidden by new, streamlined shades. If Kat had been there to bear witness, she would have probably whooped and punched the air, although the deadly seriousness in his expression would have quietened her soon enough. A flare of red light slanted across the floor and fell across Chet's back, throwing the precog's frizz-headed silhouette stark as a shadow-play puppet across the corner and the cowering Mereii. The actuators clicked and chirped, texturing Otto's voice as he spoke, his tone quiet and clear.

"That's far enough, Chet."

Chet didn't even glance in Otto's direction, his attention still riveted on John's exposed, rigid forearm. "I really don't think so," he said.

Otto crossed the room, his actuators rising around him. "Chet, I'm asking you. Don't force us to stop you."

Now Chet did look up. His grin had disappeared, and he looked wounded.

"But" Chet rose, rallying, angry. "You're siding with him? You? You, of all-"

"I am not siding with him." Backed by a quartet of volatile hissing rattles, Otto's voice was all the more deadly because it was quiet. Chet blanched, and lowered the syringe.

"We still owe Escher and Kat," continued Otto. "We owe it to them to ensure that they can walk out of all of this without blame. Which, unfortunately, is something they can only do if he keeps his mouth shut. I know you understand that, because it was you that suggested we bring him with us in the first place."

"I didn't suggest' it," said Chet, sullenly. "I just saw that we did."

"The result is the same. Directly because of youradvice, Escher and Kat are still safe from suspicion. Now, I need to make sure they'll stay safe. And to do that, I'm afraid that I need our stoic friend here to stay lucid."

"How about semi-lucid? I could just use half of this-"

"Chet."

"All right, a quarter-"

"Chet."

"Fine, I won't depress the thingie, I'll just-"

"Chet, surely you don't want to sink to his level?"

"That," hissed Chet, "would require some kind of weighted suit." But he dropped the syringe back into the box with bad grace, slamming the lid. With a scowl, he let go of Mereii's arm, who pulled it back as fast as if he was removing it from a shark tank. The next moment he froze again, however, as Chet leaned forwards and said, quietly and deliberately; "I'd thank Dr. Octavius, if I were you, Johnny-boy. Although, y'know, he can't watch you all the time..."

Then he got up, tossing the case disdainfully aside, and slunk across the room, scrubbing the hand which had held the psychologist's wrist on his shirt. The kitchen door banged shut behind him.

Directly above the lintel, a large and rather grotesque wooden clock, a souvenir from a high school trip to Amsterdam, pocked the seconds away noisily into the next minute. Eventually, Otto spoke.

"Don't feel like thanking me, then?"

"Not for a million dollars." spat Mereii, who was trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to work his shirtsleeve down again with his tethered arm.

"Oh, I doubt that." The doctor held out an arm nonchalantly towards a sideboard, and an upper tentacle glided out and snagged a musty, dogeared book from one of the many piles on it. The claw curled back and dropped the volume into Otto's hand with the ceremony of a proud Golden Retriever with a newspaper. "You strike me as someone who'd do anything for a million dollars. I'd go into examples, but the only one I can think of involves your grandmother, so I think I'll refrain." He studied the book's back cover with interest, then opened it in the middle. "But I have to say, you're right in one way. You've got nothing to thank me for."

"What you did to me." said Mereii, very clearly, "made me lose my one. Chance. At real SUCCESS." These last words carried an explosive, rising intonation, as if they were having to fight, one by one, to surface from some great internal ocean of bile.

Otto shut the book with a snap.

"What you did to me," he replied, with equal clarity, "made me lose my mind."

But if the psychologist picked up the deadly note in Otto's voice, he didn't regard it, choosing instead to plunge on recklessly. There was a certain glint to his eyes, now, the sort of manic abandon that suggests that the mind within knows full well that it is standing on the metaphorical plank, but still cannot resist stamping on it to see how precarious it really is. "An eye for an eye-"

WhiiiisssssssstSHIIINGGGG

"What," growled Otto, "did you say?"

Mereii gasped and tried not to blink, since to do so would be to neatly bisect his left eyelid on the gleaming fissile blade that had materialised barely a millimetre in front of it. It held rock steady, making the psychologist appear to be shaking even more by comparison.

"D-D-Doctor Octavius...t-t-that's really not necessary" He strained back desperately, trying to avoid doing to his own eye what cocktail-stick-wielding bartenders are paid to do to olives.

"Ah, I see." The tentacle pulled the spike back and went back to floating near Otto's head as he spoke, his tone smoothing over. "You don't want to die. You would presumably prefer to be locked inside a rubber room and have drugs tested on you." Otto regarded Mereii's expression for a moment and then looked idly back to the book in his hand, speaking to the page. "No? Not that either? Well, you sure didn't give me any other choices, now, did you?"

"I...I"

The mock-pleasant demeanour evaporated as Otto turned sharply to face Mereii, "You what, John? You thought I would be a good test subject? Perhaps you thought no one would ever come to save me? Perhaps you thought that the criminally insane deserve to be treated worse than lab monkeys? Perhaps you thought I could make you a nice few thousand dollars, hmm?"

Throughout this speech, John's eyes had gotten progressively narrower. "You destroyed my life." he growled.

"You destroyed mine. So, I suppose we're even."

"Even? EVEN? You landed me in thathole! In Sporlock! In that crappy backwater nuthouse, where I got nothing and made nothing and was nothing and- ulgg!"

One actuator firmly wrapped around Mereii's neck, Otto brought the man a little- a lot- too close for comfort and gave him a very, very unimpressed look. "You are a very lucky man, John Mereii. You're lucky I'm not going to kill you here and now, because that is quite honestly what you deserve. You deserve to be impaled, Dr. Mereii. I hope I make myself clear in this respect."

John nodded energetically, his free hand wrapped around the claws of the tentacle and feet kicking, desperate for something to stand on.

"You will be brought to court on charges of malpractice, fraud, embezzlement, channelling illegal funds, and testing unlicensed products upon human subjects. And you will plead guilty on each and every one of those charges. OrI will let my tentacles do what they wish with you."

One look at the scarlet eye-light that was hovering at Otto's side gave John a very, very good idea of what they intended to do. And it was not good. Well, it was good if you liked gory, painful, and violent things. But for John, who wanted to remain in one piece, whatever those mechanical things had in store for him would most certainly not work with his goal of remaining alive and not in pain.

"And I promise you, Mereii, that if either Katarina Morrigan or Escher Griffin become publicly involved in any of this, and if I have the slightest suspicion that you are to blame, the things that will happen to you will make what Chet was going to do look positively enjoyable, by comparison. Do I make myself crystal clear?"

"Yes." Mereii squeaked, trying to breathe.

His wish was granted and he was dropped on the floor, Otto and all his arms staring down at him.

"That's good."

"Aww" Otto turned to see Kat standing in the doorway, a bag of groceries tucked under one arm, Escher craning over her shoulder. "You're not going to mash him up into teeny tiny bits?"

"That's up to him." The doctor and his actuators continued to stare fixedly at the quailing psychologist for a few more seconds, before turning away in a motion that mixed dismissal with disgust.

"What happened to him?" murmured Escher, who had just spotted Mereii's eye.

"I did," said Kat with grim satisfaction.

Mereii struggled upright, still shaking, but now with fury. "You have no right to judge me!" he screamed. "You hear me, Octavius? No right! How dare you tell me what I deserve? After what you did to me-"

Kat exploded. "WHAT? What, John, what did he do? What could he have possibly done to deserve you locking him up in a padded cell, shooting every single dangerous chemical you could lay your hands on into his bloodstream, and trying your sick best to convince him he was crazy? I give up! Tell me! What crime could be so bad that you thought it gave you a license to take a, a genius and turn him into a mindless vegetable? Uhsorry, Otto"

"That's quite all right." Otto said, calmly. He was standing before one of the tall windows, an actuator curling around to carefully part a couple of blind-slats. Beyond, mid-day Manhattan fried quietly under a cloudless sky. "Well, go on, John, why don't you tell her? If what I did was so severe, if you're so firmly in the right, surely you have nothing to lose?" He turned, brows arching. "What's the problem - don't you trust Kat to be able to discern between a justified crusade and a vicious, small-minded vendetta?"

Mereii muttered something under his breath. Kat didn't catch it, but from the look he gave her at the same time, she guessed that it was none too complementary.

"Well, why not let me, instead?" Otto turned, leaning his shoulder offhandedly against the wall. "After all, I am the guilty party. And I do knowyou gave me enough hints, didn't you? All those months" At this, all four claws gaped agitatedly, pincers snapping in Mereii's direction. Otto raised a hand, and the tentacles subsided a little, although they continued to click and chitter darkly. "Not that I wassentient enough to put the pieces together. But I am now."

He paused, and fixed Mereii with a stare which would have frozen Hell.

"I made him miss a job interview."

There was an interesting silence. Kat, Escher, and Chet just looked at Otto, then in speechless synch turned to Mereii. Star, on the other hand, was busy staring avidly a fossily rock on the mantelpiece, trying to catch it moving.

Otto's voice was hard, deadly. "Took the El train, didn't you, John? The 9:15 to Uptown and Queens. Didn't enjoy the trip, either, I take it." A graveyard laugh. "I hope it was a pretty good place you were going forI'd hate to think that you drove me out of my mind over some mediocre desk job."

"Wait, that's it?" Kat had finally rediscovered her voice. "That's IT? That's all he did to you?" She paused for a moment. "Wait. Wait a second here. You're telling me that he made you miss a job appointment so you MADE HIM BRAINDEAD! You...you...you" She sputtered at him, staring down. "Youyou freak! Youyou demented psycho! Youdamn, I don't even know what to call you!" She looked well on the way to giving him another black eye, for the sheer sake of matching. Instead, she sputtered more and looked absolutely stunned.

"John," she said, "this is the only time I can ever remember being rendered absolutely speechless."

It appeared Mereii didn't particularly care about this distinction. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, grinding into his palms. "I had everything going for me! NO-ONE was better than me for that position! And hehe just came along and wiped it out! Everything I'd been working for! YOU DIDN'T EVEN LOOK AT ME!" He rounded on Otto, who actually backed off a pace, startled actuators hissing. "You came for Spider-Man, you got him, and to hell with everyone else! Collateral damage, that's all I was! You ruined my life, and you didn't even know it!"

"He didn't ruin your life!" Escher broke in, furiously. "Are you seriously saying that one bad day-"

"One bad day?" screamed Mereii. "Do you know how many times I relived that one bad day', you stupid girl? Over and over andIt took me months to get past it, recover, get back to work. And when I did, I - I was a laughing stock! A cardiologist can have a heart attack, and no-one thinks any less of them, but God forbid a psychologist should have a stress-induced mental breakdown! I was anembarrassment to them! They relegated me to Sporlock, that sinking dead-end pit, hoping it'd take me with it into obscurity." He straightened, as if addressing a grand audience, or at least an audience that wasn't comprised of five people, all of whom thought him slightly less appealing than athlete's foot. Jabbing a savage finger at the tentacled scientist, he ranted on. "Well, this is one loose end that didn't give up, Octavius! I swore I'd get you, and I did."

"Mereii, you're a doctor." ground Kat. "You're supposed to cure people, not-"

"Ah, but I did, Kat." Mereii laced his hands behind his back, instantly the indulgent tutor, although the clattering this provoked from the chain around his wrist added something of an askew touch."I cured him, all right. I cured his delusions, his false rationalizations and self-absolutionseverything that let him believe he had somehow earned the right to consider himself human! And it still wasn't enough!" Calm evaporating in an instant, he swung round on Otto. "You, you have no idea what it feels like to fail so badly, to be so close-"

"John," said Otto, matter-of-factly, "unless you consider that finger a surplus, I suggest you get it out of my face. Right now."

A few tense seconds passed before Mereii complied, his lip twisting with hatred as he glared at Otto, who gave him a humourless grin in return. "What did you hope to achieve with that little speech, John?" he said, and his words carried the sort of light, careless inflection which made Kat wince and Escher glance automatically sideways to locate something to dive behind. "You really expect me to justify myself to you? You're the last person on Earth to whom I'd apologize, Mereii, even if I thought an apology was appropriate." He advanced a few steps, backing the psychologist into the corner. "Not that it's any business of yours, but there are very few things in this world which I'believe I've earned' My sanity happens to be one of them, so you'll excuse me if I fail to appreciate your attempts to unburden me of it."

Falling silent, Otto stared at Mereii for several long moments before turning abruptly and tentacle-walking into the kitchen. Kat stared at the place where he had been before following at a run.

"You sure are good are pissing people off, Dr. Mereii," Escher said, giving him a dry beam before heading off to her room, but not before grabbing her final semester project before Chet decided to use it as a weapon again.

Sputtering at her stripy back, John sat and fumed till he noticed Chet's gaze on him. Whatever the precog was about to say was instantly drowned out by Kat's annoying voice.

"ESCHER!" she shouted from the kitchen. "CAN I GET TO THE ROOF!"

"YEAH!" Escher shouted back, making both Chet and John wince.

The three that remained in the room watched her sprint through the apartment and run through the door, the sounds of her sandals on the steps echoing through the hallway. Mereii sighed, and gave Chet a look that dared him to say something. Chet, however, grinned evilly at him and pushed off the couch, ruffling the psychiatrist's hair as he walked past to flop down on the mattress. John attempted to grab the precog's wrist, but missed by a long shot.

You'd think he saw it coming.

"Hey."

One actuator snapped from clicking on Otto's shoulder, looking back towards the roof block door.

Katarina.

"Hello, Kat," he replied.

"Hey, Otto," She stepped up to next to him on the edge, and glanced at his face. "You look nice in the new getup."

"Thanks, I feel better too. There's somethingparticularly stifling about a straitjacket."

"Well." She grinned a bit, and patted his shoulder. "Considering that it's meant to hold lunatics, I'm not particularly surprised by that. Reminds me of the good ol' days, y'know? Back when we weren't running from anyone."

Otto frowned a bit, and looked the other way. "Yes," he said, a bit cooler. "Those days were a long time ago now, though, and we should move on. There's more danger now, and the carelessness that we had thenwe can't keep working with."

Kat blinked at him. ".kinda parently there, aren't ya? What got you down?"

He turned to her. "Why did you stop calling me, six years ago? I never figured it out. You just cut contact, and I felt dropped like some sort of hotplate."

The girl frowned, and looked at an actuator, which chirped.

You abandoned our Father. You hurt him, woman, and you should pay for that

Stop it.

Father

Stop it.

Yes, Father.

"It doesn't like me, does it?" she asked, glancing at him.

"No, it doesn't. It's picked up the fact that I think you abandoned me. "

Kat practically gaped at him. "Abandoned you? Me? I would never! I had finals Otto, and class, and more class, and friends andand stuff! I didn't mean to, I mean, one day, you didn't return my call, so I didn't call back and went to a party andand I guess it just dissolved." She frowned, then looked away. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, then."

"It's okay. I can understand." His new shoes suddenly became a whole lot more interesting with Kat's gaze fixed on the side of his head. "I mean, you're a college student, you have a life and allI shouldn't try and get in the way."

"Otto, you're not getting in the way." She looked at him. "And I don't mean to make you feel guilty, eitherI guess you have enough of that to cope with."

He glanced at an actuator, which chittered a denial, and sighed. "I guess you're right, Kat. I have to live with what I did. Every day, for the rest of my life, I will have to carry the knowledge with me. The mere fact -and, as much as I'd like to think that it was his drugs that made me believe it, it wasn't- that I caused the pain and suffering and..." he paused, looking outward, "it's a burden you don't want." He offered a weak smile to Kat. "Believe me, it's a hell of a lot heavier than these actuators."

An actuator chirped and rubbed against his shoulder in what Kat guessed to be affection, and Otto's hand found it, rubbing the pitted metal exterior of the claw like one would rub behind a dog's ears.

"Oh, they say it wasn't me, and I want to believe them, butwhat it would mean if I did? It would be so easy, but I know I would always be wondering; did I really believe it, or did I let them take the weight because I grew tired of bearing it myself?" Another pause, in which he looked down at the gaping red heartlight, thinking. The other three shifted down so all four were looking at him, eyes like eager children. "And if so" He glanced at them, then Kat. "What would that make me?"

Kat looked at him, and was silent for a long while. "Iknow. I guesswell, with that kind of baggagewouldn't you try to get rid of it?"

"And be a coward?"

"That's not cowardice," she said, quietly. "That's just self-defence. That kind of stuff could drive you crazy. Assuming whacked-out needle-happy demented idiots don't get there first. You didn't let him get to you, did you?"

This time, he turned his entire head, and just shrugged. "No, not really."

Your thoughts suggest otherwise, Father.

I know that, it's justI can't help thinking about it.

Father, it was not your fault. It was ours. You and we both know this, yet you refuse to accept it time after time. We do not understand.

I feel as if I could have stopped it, somehow.

Their voices were somewhat eerie. You could not have stopped us.

Kat waited for a moment, till the spacing look of inner dialogue left her friend's eyes, then took a deep breath. "So, what happens now?"

Her tone was bright, and the doctor smiled despite himself. "WellI'll drop Mereii off at the nearest police station," he said, watching a small flock of birds scatter overhead. "Care of the mentally ill is something of a sensitive issue, I understandhe won't get off lightly." He huffed a short laugh. "How's that for cowardice, Kat? I can't stomach the thought of ripping him to shreds myself, so I'm going to let the lawyers do it for me." The tentacles rose slightly as he yawned, one nudging him anxiously in the shoulder. "YesI suppose it can wait until morning. I feel like I haven't slept for a year."

"I'm not at all surprised," said Kat, grinning. "I don't feel too awake myself. It's like, every time I shut my eyes, something crazy happens."

Otto looked towards the darkening horizon for a moment, then turned. To her surprise, he was smiling too.

"Come on, let's go inside. We'll finish this tomorrow."

Midnight came.

The apartment was silent and still, and utterly dark. The peculiar almost-wall-height strip windows that lined the main room were prone to letting in a huge amount of streetlamps and other light pollution if left uncovered, which was why Escher had installed the blackout blinds in the first place, in a fit of practicality the previous winter. She had in fact gone perhaps a little too far in the opposite direction, effectively turning her huge and cluttered main room into an instant black hole whenever the blinds were down. Unless you were a cat, or equipped with heat-sensitive vision, you were more or less screwed.

It had taken quite a long time for all of the room's occupants to settle. After a little light furniture rearrangement (not such a tricky task when one of the participants is able to lift a table and set it down halfway across the room without so much as looking up from his book), Escher had finally decamped to her room, Kat, Chet, and Star to their respective places of the night before, and Otto to the other sofa, which was a little larger and not so likely to collapse if suddenly introduced to the tentacles' formidable weight. He in particular had taken a while to fall asleep, and it had been almost two hours more before the last actuator drooped to the carpet and closed, the cessation of its heart-light allowing true darkness to take over the room.

Another half hour crept past.

Then-

A faint rustling, just enough to suggest motion. A tiny, chainlinky clank, quickly muffled. There was still nothing to see by, but from the careful shifting sounds that were now coming from one corner of the large, still space, it was just about possible to imagine a stretching shadow, a hand, gingerly groping

The sound stopped. A moment, then it was replaced by a clothy rummaging, which ended ina short, satisfied breath. Almost a whole minute passed, this time.

Then-

Click.

Blindingly bright for something so small, the white beam of a tiny optical torch flared at the ceiling, casting a Hammer-Horror-type uplit shadow onto the face of John Mereii. The room flooded with deep, shifting grey shadows, furniture and sleeping bodies alike picked out by the beam. Quickly, Mereii shielded it with a hand, only letting a tiny glow through his fingers, backlighting his hand a weird inner pink. He blinked, then narrowed his eyes and squinted through the gloom in the direction of one of the sofas. His glasses-free vision too poor to make any sense out of the shadows there, he finally called over, his voice a cautious hiss.

"TorenStar. Star. Are you awake?"

There was no movement from the sofa. Mereii grimaced impatiently, licked dry lips, then tried again, leaning forwards intently. "Star!"

"Yup!" said Star, in Mereii's left ear.

The psychologist twisted, shock battling the urgent need to stay quiet for possession of his vocal chords. The latter won, and Mereii merely loosed a deflated, half-hysterical sighing noise.

"Gahhh, Toren, you nearly-"

Star sniggered, and singsonged; "Scaredy scaredy stealer."

Mereii attempted to give him a withering glare, but he might as well have been throwing water at a dolphin for all the disciplinary effect this had. His temper didn't improve when he spotted that the lunatic was wearing his missing tielike a bandanna.

Meanwhile, Star had abruptly stopped looking pleased with himself and was instead focusing intently on Mereii's still-glowing hand. He leaned forwards, curiously, eyes wide. "What's that?"

Mereii shifted his palm casually, letting the white point of light sparkle between his fingers. "Pretty, isn't it?" He sneaked a quick glance up and grinned inwardly at Star's rapt gaze, then held the torch out on his palm. "Would you like it?"

The blue eyes lit up. "Yeah!" Star's hand shot out, but Mereii pulled back fast.

"Ah ah ah." he said, smoothly. "I can't give you something for nothing, Star. That just wouldn't be fair, now, would it?"

Star blinked for a moment, before comprehension flared and sent him digging into the pocket of his new pants. "I'll trade you, then," he agreed, and proffered a handful ofwell, stuff. Although the origins of the objects were a mystery, the theme was definitely shiny', a category that included a flattened quarter, a starling feather with a brilliant blue sheen, three bottle caps, the metal twist off a champagne cork, several bits of smoothed glass, and the side-buckle of his straitjacket, with a ragged scrap of white cloth still trailing from it.

There was a pause as Mereii regarded this jumble, his expression one of serious appraisal. "Hmmno, I don't think so," he said, finally. "I'm sorry, Star, but I think I'll hang on to it after all. Unless" He stopped, turning the torch over in his long fingers, shaking his head.

"What?" demanded Star, eagerly.

"Wellit would hardly be a trade, would it? I meanboth things already belong to me. Pointless, really." His voice was matter-of-fact, as if he was talking more to himself than anything, although the shrewd sideways look he threw in Star's direction suggested otherwise.

Star was edgy, watching the shining end of the torch, getting frustrated. "Whatisit? What do you wanna trade? I really want itit's pretty!"

Mereii hummed, thoughtfully. "Wellall righthow about that?"

His other hand extended, pointing across the room to a table, just visible in the glow. Star turned to look, brow scrunching questioningly.

"Atable?"

Mereii rolled his eyes. "No, you du- ah, I mean, no, not the table, the thing on it. There."

"That box?"

"Yes." The psychologist folded his arms. "There you go, Star. Bring me thatbox, and we have a deal."

Star hesitated. "I don't knowwhat is it?"

"What does it look like?" said Mereii, swiftly. "It's just a box, useless, really. Trust me."

"I don't trust you." Star's reply was immediate, instinctive.

Mereii scowled, but recovered fast. "Humour me, then. That box hassentimental value. Come on, look." He rattled the chain around his wrist. "What use is it to me? I'm not going anywhere."

"But Kitty said-"

"Do you want this," said Mereii, holding the torch up pointedly, "or don't you?"

Star stared at it, clearly struggling. For a moment, his expression was a conflicting mix of longing, awe, and distrust. He was still frowning.

"Icould justtake it" he said, after a moment.

Mereii blinked and thought rapidly, worried by this unexpected turn. He certainly appreciated the truth in Star's statement; the first (and last) time that he had underestimated this particular patient's speed and strength, it had cost him a fractured radius and a number of painful punctures.

"Oh, but, Star," he said, reprovingly, "that would be stealing."

That did it. Star bit his lip, thought for maybe five seconds more, then turned and bounded across the room to the table. He picked up the box' in both hands, making a surprised sound as he registered how heavy it was, then returned to Mereii's corner.

"Here you go!" he said, happily, and promptly chucked it at him. Caught off guard, the psychologist yelped and nearly dropped it, then placed it on the floor and tossed the torch over, grudgingly.

"There. Now stay out of my way, and don't use it in here, or I'llmake it not work. Understand?"

Star nodded, wide-eyed, and disappeared into the kitchen, presumably to find somewhere safe to hide his new treasure. The light went with him, flicking on and off like Morse code as he located and played with the torch's switch. The kitchen door banged behind him.

The pitch dark returned, textured by the tense non-sound of someone holding their breath. After a while, when it became clear that the horribly loud sound of the door hadn't woken anyone, there was a fumbling sound, and a quiet chak like that of a button being depressed. A tiny blue light flickered up, followed by another.

Crosslegged, his laptop perched carefully on his knees, Mereii took one last calculating look around the rest of the room, then lifted the lid.

The screen flared, then dulled as he scrolled the brightness down. Index on the touchpad, he clicked swiftly through to a login screen, entering a series of passwords with a blurring rattle of keys. The machine whuzzzed, and a blue circle started to rotate in the center of the screen.

PLEASE WAIT. TRYING TO ESTABLISH LOCAL AREA NETWORK CONNECTION.

"Come on" hissed John, his nose maybe two inches from the screen, his eyes wide. "Find it, you piece of"

A mellow ding, and another message flashed up.

CONNECTED AT 9Mbps. YOUR LOGIN HAS BEEN ACCEPTED.

A slow, spreading smirk was the response to this news. A few more fast clicks, and another warning message.

YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO ENTER HIDDEN DOMAIN http/www.jmcache88.au/bpfiles/octavius/blueprints00 /secupload.pdf

CONTINUE?

"Yes," murmured John, the charnel grin hiking up another few notches as he clicked again. Settling down more comfortably on the floor, the screen reflecting coldly in his eyes, he started to type.