((Ok invoking the 'R' rating I mentioned when I started…))

((Ok… real life has been a bear; accept that Janet/Kallisto in my story is over 2500 years old… Other then that thanks again for the reviews I am glad your enjoying the 'show'… and I understand negative feedback, but now that you've said your peace further comment is pointless. And as to Janet's understanding regarding her disappearance, I've always thought that when an Immortal died well they also to an extent became psychologically frozen in time as well… the older Immy's are not only a tad aloof but at there base core the ultimate in selfish and myopic. Now before you flip out about that, they are human and can change but to a greater extent because of the nature of 'The Game' they have 'Id's' the size of Texas. So to Kallisto, vanishing would solve the problem of the Foothold because she would not step foot in America again for some centuries.))

((Italics flashback/past))

Edited ((Thank you myeerah for alerting me to that grammatical error, I thought I had fixed that sentence but this must have been a previous copy that slipped by my editing.))

Denver, Colorado
Alley near 34th and E Streets – 7:41pm

Silence reigned within the dark confines of the alley, the only sounds to be heard where the gentle rustle from the myriad of garbage bags scattered about as the cold Rocky Mountain winds whipped quickly down the lifeless expanse.

A ragged gasp tore through the silence of the night followed by a short coughing fit coming from a small pile of garbage bags haphazardly dumped near the side of an already overflowing restaurants dumpster. It took her several moments to gather herself and slowly she rolled onto her knees and started to free herself from underneath the avalanche of bags that had been her cocoon she knows not how long.

As she moved silently into the alley she stretched and worked the kinks from her stiff muscles, the wind sliced through her coat chilling her to the bone. Her clothing felt stiff and she was overwhelmed with the sickly sweet iron scent of human blood, both her own and others, mixed with the various other liquids that could be found in a pile of refuse.

Brushing herself off, Kallisto checked to ensure that her sword and dagger were secure in there sheaths. Her sword was securely where she left it, but her dagger was no where to be found. Turning around slowly, she picked up one of the garbage bags that had fallen on top of her and tossed it aside. After several moments of blindly feeling under the mounds of trash, her fingers finally brushed against the sharp blade and she quickly retrieved the errant weapon. The dagger in its sheath, she thrust her hands deep within the pockets of the now tattered coat and started to walk toward the exit of the alley.

Silently emerging from the shadows of the alley and wrapping the coat around her body in an effort to fight the chill night air, she silently merged with the flow of the early evening foot traffic. Lost in thought, her mind going over the events of the night slowly trying to piece them together… tear them all apart… then reassemble them all over again. It had been centuries since she had experienced such a shock, not even learning of the existence of Aliens and other worlds troubled her as much as this… and to be honest it left her off balance.

As she stopped at the corner with the rest of the pedestrians waiting for the crossing signal to change, one single thought repeated over and over again within her mind.

'How did he know my name?'

…

The wind swirled around her; it enveloped her in its chill embrace while the leaves rustled and danced about her feet and brushed softly against the legs of her slacks. Her senses where alight with the waning light of the sun as it slowly sank beneath the western horizon, framing the Rockies in soft red and pink hues.

Time ceased for Kallisto, this was one of those rare moments in life when the world froze and you became one with everything for an instance. She cannot place exactly what pulled her suddenly from the tranquil daze she had allowed herself to be lulled into.

Turning slight she paused and did nothing but listen… the only sounds at the moment where the slight rushing of the wind against her ears…

'CRASH'

It was faint but she had heard it. As she slowly walked back along the path she had just come from, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, something was not right.

…

A random elbow knocked her off balance, as she looked up the teenager responsible sped further down the sidewalk on his skateboard without a backward glance; the contact having roused Kallisto from her thoughts, she to study her surroundings and notices that the hotel is up ahead on the next block.

Closing the distance to the front entrance in a matter of moments, she barely looks at the bellman as he held door open for her. In a daze she continued onward and finally she is on the third floor and sequestered in the silence of her room.

Walking across the room she shed the tattered and bloodstained remains of her leather coat, leaving it in a pile upon the floor. Slowing only for a moment to unhook the harness of her sword and rest the elegant blade across the cushions of the couch, she retains the dagger and moves toward the window.

Throwing the curtain aside she stands there, as her eyes darting from window to window… roof top to roof top… her grip upon the smooth ebon handle of the dagger flexes repeatedly.

She paid little notice to the dried crimson smears upon the daggers slender blade…

…

As she walked down the lane toward the obvious sounds of a struggle a small part of her mind chided her for even bothering to investigate the matter, that at the moment her main concern should be leaving Colorado and the United States for quite sometime.

But then life would become quite dull if she never took any risks, so she had stayed with the SGC after she learned the truth of what they did.

She passed the finally thicket of trees and moved down the lane… before her was the source of the struggle…

…

Colorado Springs, Colorado
Stargate Command -- Level 16 Secondary Command Center – 7:47pm

'…top story of the night. Denver Police say that the victim, 67 year old Jonathan Winters was the apparent victim of a mugging sometime between 6:00 and 6:45pm. The victim was taken by ambulance to St. Joseph's Medical Center for treatment of a stab wound to the abdomen and blood loss. A spokesperson for St. Joseph's reports him to be in critical condition.'

As she sat in the chair silently watching the television coverage, Samantha Carter's eyes darted repeatedly to the other monitors before returning back to the coverage live from downtown Denver.

'Laura, can you tell us anything at all regarding to why the police have cordoned off the park?' replied the news anchor from the studio.

'Well Tom, information is currently sketchy but from what some eyewitnesses have been heard saying it appears that there was an apparently someone in the company of the victim that was armed,' the camera feed cut to the sight of a jet black body bag being loaded into a white utility van, the emblem of the Denver Police Department coroners office emblazoned upon its side, by two Denver CSI technicians; 'and what is the most disturbing is that apparently one of the assailants was apparently decapitated in the assault, while the other two where seriously injured.'

At the mention of the form of death one of the criminals suffered, Sam's entire focus was on the local new coverage. The door to the Secondary Command Center opened silently behind her, but her attention was solely upon the new reporter.

The reporter looks off into the distance, obviously behind her camera man, and then moved forward. The scene changed and the reporter quickly approached a tall slender man dressed in a simple dark suit. 'Detective… Detective…'

'Carter?' the soft voice of Colonel O'Neill caused her to refocus her attentions on the other monitors and not on the grizzly details of an apparent mugging gone wrong.

…

Denver
Palace Hotel Room # 317 – 7:50 pm

The events of the past few hours slowly replayed in her mind… causing her to turn away from the outside world, for at the moment it was more foreign to her then it had been in sometime.

Silently walking through the small living room she paused to kneel down and pick up the tattered and soiled leather trench coat. Inspecting it with a detached eye she discarded it upon the couch and finally noticed that her dagger was still within her hand…

…

As she stepped slowly down the path the sight that greeted her was distressingly familiar in all its dehumanizing glory. Strong fell upon the weak in the age old dance, something that crotchety old bastard Darwin would have called 'Natural Selection'.

Clearing her throat she stood in the middle of the path… the wind whipping the hem of her coat.

A tall muscular man with a dark chestnut complexion turned toward her as she made her presence known. Glancing past him she saw his companions, the scrawny man with a gaunt face and impossibly red hair was clutching a digital camera in one hand and a slim black billfold in the other whilst the third member of the small group held the victim with one arm pinned behind his back and the other pressed the blade of a hunting knife to the his windpipe.

"Not your night lady…ya shoulda kept on walkin." said the one that she had identified as the leader simply by the fact that he had been standing idly by doing nothing.

…

Walking to the sword case in which she kept her cleaning cloths, reaching in she retrieved a small cloth and bottle of mineral oil. Moving back toward the couch she poured a small amount of the oil on the cloth and started to slowly wipe at the blade of her dagger.

…

The attack was what she had been taught by Rebekah to expect. All men would instinctually, given her slight frame she was taught, rush her savagely in an attempt to make use of there greater physical mass or strength to overwhelm and pin her against the ground.

Without even thinking she spun upon the heel of her boot, moving to her left and out of his path. Then with both of her clenched fists extended in a downward circular arc, she struck, connecting with the side of his head just below the ear with a solid and audible crunch. The combination of this and his forward momentum sent him crashing to the ground. Dropping into a defensive stance Kallisto circled with her back to the woods, keeping all the assailants within view.

As the first attacker slowly climbed back onto his feet the scrawny red head charged at her making use of the camera upon its neck strap as a weapon. As the camera sailed through the space that her head had just been, Kallisto took advantage of the vulnerability and drove her elbow quickly upward into his throat, the camera and billfold quickly flew from his hands as they clawed against his now damaged windpipe.

Stepping to the side, her foot struck out hard against the side of his kneecap, the sound of snapping tendon and bone was only overshadowed by his strangled gurgle; In that dark part of herself she was starting to enjoy this, it had been sometime since she had reveled in a blatant and violent act. The only other time she'd come this close to giving into her base urges was when Cassandra was suffering thought the effects of Nirrti's genetic experiments; the look on Nirrti's face as she stood before the self proclaimed 'Goddess', M9 side arm in hand and pointed at her head…she still wondered what her friends reactions would have been if she had just pulled the trigger.

'You Bitch… I'm gonna make you pay for that.' the leader hissed as he reappeared from behind barreling down upon her…

…

With a final swipe from the now bloodstained cloth, she silently stood up and walked across the room to set the cloth and oil bottle back within her sword case.

The dagger secured, along with her sword, within the case she turned and walked toward the bathroom. Flicking on the soft white light she stands before the mirror and starts to peel away the remains of her clothing, leaving them in a heap at her feet…

…

More to come…