Whoa, this took far longer than I meant. Sorry for the wait - exams almost over, so I'll be able to spend a little more time on this in the near future. Oh, and Dib's full name I'm still not sure about - didn't like 'Dib Membrane' so opted for 'Driscoll' instead.Enjoy!

Disclaimer : The city of Metropolis, the Black Dogs and most of the Keepers belong to me. The other characters belong to their respective creators.

There was a buzz, barely audible, as the door unlocked. Mike took a brief, precautionary glance around before she pushed it open and went through, but she needn't have worried. Their main point of entry lay obscured from view in an abandoned industrial park, which was so remote and had fallen into disuse and disrepair so long ago that the chance of there being spies or cameras up here were extremely slim. Nevertheless, they hadn't taken any risks when setting up this place – they had six different transmitters in locations around the city to relay information to agents out in the field. Although wired back to Division itself, any signals received and triangulated by outside forces always led to these six transmitters, and no matter how many the Keepers destroyed, they always installed more in different places. To all but themselves, Division's actual location was a mystery.

Gazing down the narrow stairway it led to was like staring into a deep well; even with the door open, she couldn't see even halfway down. It didn't usually bother her – she'd gone up and down these stairs so many times that she knew where every step was and never lost her footing – but nevertheless, her hand groped in the darkness for the corrugated iron panels that lined the tunnel. When they started up Division before she'd even joined, they were forced to pilfer whatever materials they could, including sheets of metal lying outside the old power station. As she came to the bottom of the stairs, she reached a fork in the corridor; one direction went right, which led underneath the industrial park. The other went left and led to Division, but its entrance was covered by one of the metal panels. It was held in place by an electromagnet which, when deactivated, would allow it to simply swing open. It had its flaws, but this was as inconspicuous as they could manage.

She pulled the panel back into place behind her, and there was another miniscule buzz as the electromagnet activated again. With that, she headed down the tunnel that led to Division and came out just in front of Intel. Above it was the point they called 'the Cupola', the apex of the entire compound, and Intel was placed below it in a circle about twenty meters in diameter. Mike turned left to head up the stairs towards Field Ops, but ran into Dib Driscoll en route.

"Mike," he said, noticing her, "Double-D wants to know what you came up with this afternoon."

"All right, I'll head over there now," Mike replied. She was so lost in thought that her response was somewhat muted, but she hoped Dib wouldn't notice. Unfortunately for her, he did.

"You feeling all right?" he asked her.

Mike paused. "I'm fine," she answered. "I've just got a lot on my mind, we all do. It's nothing." He nodded, somewhat reluctantly – his eyes betrayed the fact that he wasn't totally convinced, although they looked as distant as they usually were. Dib was a very troubled soul, and, for all he and his sister Gaz had gone through, she couldn't blame him. Their father, Professor Membrane, like many scientists of his calibre, was taken away by the Keepers and forced to work for them. He became one of their top researchers, but having been deprived the whole time of seeing his children, his achievements meant nothing to him. Eventually, either out of despair or defiance, he poisoned himself. A couple of days later, his death was announced on the evening news. Dib and Gaz never quite got over the loss, but instead of retreating into a pit of self-pity, they resolved to help bring down the system that had taken him away from them. Although he always seemed very indifferent and introverted to her, he was also highly intelligent and a great asset, just a little removed from the world. "Has Double-D told you about what's going on?"

"Yeah, he just briefed me," Dib answered. "Looks like I'm running things down here, right?"

"You and Kimiko Toho. Think you can handle it?"

Dib shrugged. "I'll do my best," he answered, and they both passed each other and went their separate ways, Dib towards Intel, Mike towards Double-D's office. Well, 'office', for want of a better word – it was more like a barren room, with transparent walls and a desk.

She walked through the door, and Double-D looked up and acknowledged her. "What do you have for me?" he asked.

"Ideally, the pinch needs to be set off at 9 o' clock. That way we have an adequate amount of time to prepare and reach Cicatriz. Sam, Tucker and I will set out from Division at 6:00, arrive at the laboratory a little before 8:00. From there, Tucker can hack into the security matrix and disable it until the EMP's effect wears off."

"You realise that when the EMP goes off," Double-D questioned, "your electronics get fried as well?"

"It's a little bit of a contingency plan," Mike admitted, "but we may have to simply go out via the route we came in. In the light, they won't be able to tell themselves from each other, let alone us."

"All right. So the pinch needs to be detonated at 9:00?" Mike nodded. "OK. I'll accompany a team down into the sewer so we can plant it underneath Cicatriz, or in the immediate vicinity. Then it's up to you to get Danny out of there."

"I understand."

"All right. I need to brief Sam and Tucker about what's happening on our end. Keep me posted, OK?" Double-D requested, getting up and accompanying her back through the door.

She smiled thinly. "Sure." He nodded in acknowledgement and headed over to Intel. Mike watched him for a second before returning to Field Ops. She admired him greatly, not only as a mentor, someone who taught her everything he knew, but also as a friend and confidante, someone she knew she could trust. She sighed as she walked through the door to her own station and sat down, trying to comprehend everything that had come up in the last three hours.

Almost overwhelmed by it all, she closed her eyes, but as soon as she did, she saw an image of Mac, sitting in the middle of a darkened room, blindfolded and gagged, arms bound behind his back. All of a sudden, a faceless stranger approached him from behind and undid his handcuffs. Mac flexed his arms a little before bringing them round in front of him, and Mike realised that his hands were gone. All that remained were bloody stumps, loosely wrapped in clean white linen to stem the flow of blood, but the cloth began to rapidly turn a livid scarlet colour, and before she knew it, the cloth was saturated and a puddle of blood was forming on the cold stone floor…Mac's blood…

Her eyes snapped open again. A band of sweat was beginning to cool on her forehead, and she slowly wiped it off before sitting forward and holding her head in her hands. She felt somehow responsible, and she almost wished that Mac hadn't found her, that he hadn't noticed her, and then he wouldn't be in this mess. She didn't subscribe to the clichéd idea that fate, kismet, whatever had made their paths converge like this, but something had, and now he needed her help more than ever. She knew as well as anyone that the Black Dogs' attitude towards human life was indifferent and indiscriminate; they had no code of ethics. Their sole sense of morals lay in what they believed was right, the downfall of the Keepers; and if that meant kidnapping a nine-year-old boy, perhaps even torturing and killing him, then so be it. Their current leader, Marcus Moore, was only known to her by name, but she also knew that, just like the Keepers, the Black Dogs were vulnerable to their own power struggles. You had to be pretty damn ruthless to head the Dogs up, spread such fear amongst the recruits that their loyalty to you would be unquestioned, and Moore was evidently no exception.

Mike grimaced, frustrated at the position she'd been thrust into. She had a real dilemma on her hands. If she went to get Mac from the Black Dogs, she'd be leaving Sam and Tucker to infiltrate Cicatriz and get the prisoner out by themselves; but if she went with them instead, she'd surely be leaving Mac to die, and she couldn't bear to have his death haunt her conscience, especially after he'd saved her life. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking straight into a trap, but this was the only chance of getting Mac out alive, for both of them.

A glance at the clock told her that the time was 4:31, leaving her just over two hours, and she could be there in an hour. But she needed something to protect herself – her pistol wouldn't do by itself – and she needed a plan of the Black Dogs' compound, quickly. Without a moment to lose, she surged up and headed back out through the glass door, along the hallway and down the stairs to Intel. From within the deep confines of her mind came the faint whisper of Mac's voice, pleading desperately for help, but she shook it off as she wandered alone along the corridors.

Further away, at Central Core, General Skarr's feelings of moral ambivalence were not nearly as conflicting as he strode towards the main doors. His decision had been made, his path chosen – he was acting on behalf of the people, not his political superiors. He didn't expect to gain any sort of personal redemption or glory from the Eurasians, he was in too deep for that, but not in so deep that he couldn't make a difference when it really counted. He knew there was no way they could fight back – Strokov and the Inner Circle were moving troops that existed only on paper. Even with their 'we few, we happy few, we band of brothers' spiel, the front-line commanders realised it was useless, but were powerless to retreat, because even in situations like these, the Keepers had ways of finding people who did such things.

He had told his assistant that he was not available to speak to anyone, and neglected to answer the lad's question of where his business was taking him just then. It was better that nobody knew, not just yet. The two guards on the door opened a door each with one arm and saluted him with the other. He saluted back as he walked out into Metropolis, occasionally shielding his ears as a particularly loud explosion rang out from the outskirts of the city. Looking around him, he could see families, most of them just mothers and children, huddling together in their front rooms for warmth and personal security. From across the road, a man in shabby and tattered rags staggered over to him and fell against his shoulder, leering up at him with a drunken smile. Skarr flinched a little in disgust – the man's breath and clothing reeked of vodka and cheap tobacco smoke.

"You see that?" the drunkard slurred, gesturing in the vague direction of the fighting, "It's the end of the world!" He held a liquor bottle in front of Skarr's face, shaking it and sloshing the transparent liquid around inside. "C'mon…have one last drink with me. Won't hurt you…" He began laughing maniacally as Skarr eventually lost patience and gave him a rough shove. The man swayed and continued to lurch down the street, cackling and announcing the coming of Armageddon to the dirty grey buildings around him.

Straightening his cap, the general walked on until he was safely out of reach of Central Core, then dialled a number into his phone. The monotonous tone rang a few times before the receiver picked up. "General Steiner."

"Steiner, this is Skarr," he replied. "I'm on my way up to the front line. I need you to open up a channel with the Eurasians so I can talk to their commander-in-chief direct. Tell them that you're acting under my authority, they'll understand. If not, I'll have to persuade them myself."

"Of course, General," Steiner acknowledged. "I can have it ready by the time you get here."

"Excellent. I'll be there momentarily."

"Sam!"

Sam Manson was practically immersed in thought until someone called her name. She blinked a couple of times, a little dazed, before turning to see whose it was. Walking towards her desk was Kimiko Toho, another one of the analysts who effectively ran Intel, along with her and Tucker. "I sent you a schematic of the Cicatriz laboratory to load onto Tucker's PDA. Double-D told me he's coming by in a minute to finalise everything."

"Oh, right…thanks, Kimiko," Sam muttered; half her thought processes were still preoccupied with worrying about Danny, and her voice showed it.

"Are you OK?" Kimiko asked, frowning a little in concern.

She got up from her seat, wiping her brow with the back of her hand before she replied, "No, I'm not OK." She paused. She was grateful she had someone like Kimiko to talk to about this. The two of them had become pretty good friends, having joined Division at around the same time as each other. She was a good listener, she could always think of the right thing to say. "It's just…I always believed that Danny was still alive, and I still do, but…just seeing what they did to him…it was horrible…"

"Hey," Kimiko said compassionately, patting her shoulder, "he'll be all right. Dib and I'll be back here, we'll do everything to make sure Danny gets out. OK?"

Sam smiled gratefully as Double-D and Tucker approached the desk. "Sam, Kim," Double-D said, causing the two of them to turn their heads. "I just want to go through the plan with you one more time." Sam nodded as Double-D pointed to the plan on the screen. His finger traced over the glass until he reached what would have been a door. "That's where you'll go in. Normally there's a keypad-activated lock on the door, but after the security system goes offline, all doors like that will deactivate. We're pretty sure that Danny's being held here" – he pointed to another room on the schematic – "but you may have to go the long way round to get inside."

"What happens when we get there?" Sam asked.

"The EMP's gonna be detonated at 9:00," Double-D replied. "Then you'll have about twenty minutes to get Danny out. I'll be underneath with the teams in the sewer, I'll keep in contact with the three of you. That's all you need to know, I'll make sure you're properly equipped before you go." With that, he gave them a nod and returned to his station. Kimiko did the same and Sam went off with Tucker towards Field Ops.

As they did so, an analyst by the name of Jack Spicer warily watched them leave and waited until they were out of sight. He got up from his workstation and wandered down the corridor directly ahead of him, turned right and carried on until he reached a set of stairs that led down towards the generators. When he was halfway down the stairs, he took out his cell phone and dialled a number into it. After a few rings, a voice answered, "Worff."

"This is Spicer," Jack said, checking that no-one was listening before he continued.

"You're sure this line is completely secure?" Defence Minister Worff asked.

Keeping his voice as low as he could, Jack replied, "Yes, as always. The uplink is encrypted – it can't be traced. I've got information for you I think you might find useful. But I need you to promise me something."

"You'll be duly paid for your efforts, Mr. Spicer, rest assured."

"Aside from that. I want you to grant me a safe passage out of here. If this goes down…" He peered cautiously over the top step. "…everyone in here will be looking for me."

"These are delicate times, Mr. Spicer," the Defence Minister replied. "I sincerely hope you do not plan to mislead us."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Spicer growled.

"Given recent events, I'm in doubt over your reliability as an informant," Worff said. "There's nothing to stop me from thinking that you're purely waiting for us to get you a free ticket out of there, and you'll give us any half-baked rumour just to do it."

"You think I'd be risking my ass down here just to spin you a lie?" Spicer replied irritably. He had neither the time nor the patience to try and convince Worff in case he was discovered, especially since they all knew that he delivered what he promised. "This is uranium-235 for people like you, and I'm offering it to you on a silver fuckin' platter. Now do you want it or not?"

There was an audible sigh. "Tell me," Worff replied wearily.

Mike closed the door to the Armaments chamber, listening out expectantly for the click as it locked again. She stashed the gun in its holster and secreted the extra clips in her jacket pockets as she came out from the South Wing in front of Intel. Thankfully for her, Sam and Tucker weren't there; no awkward questions meant no awkward answers. She was the only one who knew about this, and she wanted it to stay that way.

There was a workstation nearby, a laptop folded into the wall, but she wanted to remain incognito to get there. She veered to the left and headed quickly around the edge of the circle of computers. The one she needed was situated further inside the North Wing, a couple of corridors down. She turned the corner and, quickly scanning her surroundings, spied the workstation about ten feet away from her. Fortunately it was unmanned. She booted it up and rummaged through the data on it, tapping furiously on the keys as she did so, until a schematic of the Black Dogs' compound appeared on the screen. Hurriedly she withdrew her PDA from her pocket and jacked it into the side of the computer, fidgeting impatiently as it transferred the plans, before removing it and shutting the station down. She continued in the same direction down the corridor, before turning left and following the hallways until they led to another exit point, left unguarded because it was so rarely used.

Her hand hovered in front of the keypad, on the verge of punching in the code, but her gaze was drawn back over her shoulder, back down the long corridors she'd just come up. Don't worry, Mac, she assured him telepathically, I'm coming, I'll get you out of there… She uttered, "I promise…" out loud before entering the code and stepping out through the door into the frigid, January air.