AN: Wow, I'm surprised (and happy) that this has lasted all the way to chapter 20. Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, especially my repeat reviewers.

***Miles***

Why was I even bothering with trying to find Chealsy? She was probably going to laugh at me and walk away the second I said a word to her. It wasn't like I'd already had my share of rude welcomes.

I had to find her because she can help, besides she'll probably enjoy the chance to take down Murkoff, if she doesn't take all the credit herself. She always was the attention hog. Never happy with just breaking a story, she always had to make sure her name was plastered over everything she did. Glory hound.

"Is that her?" Waylon asked from across the table. We were in a little cafe that Chealsy used to be a regular at. I had no idea where she was now, it'd been months since I'd talked to her.

"No" the lady was tall, but her hair was too dark and she was in flats. Chealsy wears heels and is implausible to miss.

"This would be a lot easier if you told me what she looked like" Waylon sure did have a chip on his shoulder, he'd been on my case ever since yesterday. It wasn't like I didn't deserve it, but he could at least be giving me a chance.

"Trust me, you'll know when you see her." assuming she'd even be here.

"I can't just look at people and know things Miles"

Was he taking another crack at me?

I sighed in annoyance, this was getting old "I'm getting real tired of your second guessing me"

Waylon didn't look back at me, but kept looking around the cafe. I knew he was on edge anyway, I could hear the police cuffs that were still stuck on his wrists rattling. "I'm getting pretty tired of it too."

"If you won't second guess him, then I guess I'll have to."

Waylon jerked his view up, past me. I swiveled in my seat to see behind me.

I found Chealsy.

Standing there she was dressed something like the love child of paris hilton and a San Francisco hippy. So really nothing was out of the ordinary. She invited herself to the table and took one of the two remaining chairs.

"So , what brings you here?" she had that self satisfied purr to her voice, like a cat who was sitting with a mouse trapped under its paw.

"It's a long story," I began.

"Oh? I like stories."

"Cut the cutesy crap, this ones big, but we need to be somewhere more private before I tell you more."

She took a lazy glance towards waylon "Private with company? I don't remember you being into that sort of thing Mr. Upshur"

I might have heard Waylon stifle a surprised cough. I needed to move this along, she wasn't going anywhere until she knew she was verbally outgunned. Suddenly I knew the quickest way to get things done...

"If you keep making offers like that I'll have to let Robert know your relationship isn't as exclusive as he thinks it is."

When the hell had she started dating Robert? And more importantly: what the hell does she see in him? He's dumb as a post and is an asshole with a bad mustache.

"Touche," she didn't miss a beat that I seemed to know about her business, probably thought that I had done my homework before showing up "so, what's so important?"

"I'll tell you once we get outside and away from so many prying ears."

"Awfully paranoid, aren't we?"

"Damn strait."

We all three stood, it could have been a quite moment, but Chealsy kept on with comments.

She caught sight of the cuffs still stuck on Waylons wrists, "you never played games like that with me "

Poor Waylon took the bait "What? um, no. It's not like that. I... it's a long story why there are manacles, and well. Um..."

"It's ok, I can tell when two men are-."

"C'mon you two" I walked out of the cafe without seeing if they were following.

Waylon looked mortified, Chealsy was self satisfied, I was impatient.

"My, my. So pushy. I like it"

I knew finding her was a bad idea. But I needed her help.

We don't need help.

And where the hell have you been?

Just straightening some things out. Feeding you useful things when I found them.

Ya, I've noticed your little... nuggets, of information.

Then you know that we don't need any help, we could destroy Murkoff all on our own.

I know that, but we can't just destroy it, we need to ruin them. The world has to know what they did.

But we still don't need help.

Ya we do, and what do you mean "straightening things out"?

You'll see.

I didn't like the sound of that.

I felt the Walrider fade into the background more than anything. I didn't like how natural that was starting to feel.

"...so if you have to know, it was twelve. At the same time"

The look on Waylons face told me that he didn't want to know, and that Chealsy had brought up what ever she was going on about.

We were at the car. I got in the passenger side, Waylon circled around to the drivers seat as Chealsy slipped into the back.

"You sure do know how to make a girl feel welcome, are these hospital gowns?"

Ignoring the first part I replied "yes, I'll explain in a second."

"Sounds like you've got a hell of a story to tell" a wicked grin had made its home on her face, she expected a juicy story. Unfortunately she'd found one.

Waylon had pulled into the flow of traffic; I was reasonably sure that there was no way anyone outside of the car could hear us.

"Save all your questions and comments till the end, understand?"

"Ya, ya sure. Grade school rules."

"Ok, first off, this is about Murkoff. Second, I've got evidence to send them down a hole deep enough they couldn't get out even if they had wings."

"And what-"

"Shhh. Everythings on two different cameras. I need you to line up someone who can get the footage onto some big name, legitimate stations. I need to spread this shit so far that it gets too big to sweep under the rug. I'll give you the cliff notes version: I went to visit our friends at Mount Massive asylum, found the place all beat to hell, got trapped inside and spent my night running away from delusional, murderous patients. I barely escaped alive. Waylon over there used to work for them, questioned Murkoffs lack of ethics and got himself forcefully admitted. He was there when all the inmates broke out and barely escaped alive.

"After that I went straight to Donnie, but shit hit the fan there too. Long story short, we still have the footage, and Murkoffs out for our blood."

"They killed my wife."

Chealsy was about to reply, but was left with a dangling jaw from Waylons comment.

"And they took my sons"

"Oh. Fuck." I could see her grinding her teeth like she usually did when she thought long and hard about something. "What did Donnie get done?"

"Not much. Murkoff raided the place, got SWAT involved. It was messy."

"They killed Donald too?"

"Damned if I know" shit, I didn't even know what happened to Donald.

"What about the hospital gowns, why's this one covered in blood? Are these bullet holes?"

"uhh, we got taken to the hospital after the SWAT raid, broke out a week later, then got stuck in the middle of a shoot out."

"You got shot?"

"Well, yes. But it's under control."

I could nearly feel Waylon shifting in his seat at my last words.

"Bull shit, we're going to see Lamar. Take a left up here."

"Don't take a left, theres no reason to see a doctor, even one in a shady ally."

"You got shot"

"Been shot enough times to lose count, like I said it's been a long week. Anyways, can you get the footage off a couple of camcorders into the hands of someone who's believable and big enough not to be touched by murkoff?"

"Probably. What's on them? Specifically?"

"It'd take to long to explain. Just watch one of them." I opened the glove box and pulled out Waylons camera.

Chealsy wasted no time in opening the screen and watching the footage on it. I had no idea how long his video was, or what exactly was on it. For the longest time she was quite. It took nearly an hour for her to tell Waylon to head to the west side of town. After twenty more minutes she told him to look for a self storage, she didn't say the name of it, only that it was climate controlled. Thirty minutes of searching later we found it and pulled into the parking lot.

Neither me nor Waylon knew what to say, so we sat in dumb silence. Too long of a time went by before Chealsy looked up from the little camera.

"What the fuck."

Was she going to say anything else?

"Seriously, holy shit."

"...and?"

"What the hell were they doing to you, and how are you still alive?" she said to waylon "What was project walrider? Was it the ghost thing? What happened to the cannibal guy? Where was Miles during this? Was the dying guy at the end Jeremy Blair? Who is ? Were those tactical cops at the end? Who was the figure walking in the black whirlwind at the end?"

"Ummmm..."

"Where did this car come from? How does Murkoff know you two saw all this stuff? Why is Miles missing two fingers? Is Mount Massive still just sitting there? What was going on in the basement? Why didn't you take your sweet time killing Gluskin? Who smashed the radio? Who are the three lucid dreamers? What does code triple black mean?"

"Uhhh...?"

"What is the morphogenic engine? Was the place haunted? What started the fire in the chapel? How are you two still sane? How did Murkoff think that they were going to make money off of this? Why use maniacs? Who lets their asylum get so damn disgusting?"

"Are you done?"

"No. What was Waylons job? Who is William Hope? Why employ an ex-nazi? Why were there no women working there? Was that one guy in the beginning licking you? What happen to the D.I.D. redneck?"

"Damn woman, one at a time."

"ok, this seems like a big one: what the hell is 'The Walrider'? Was it the black smoke monster?"

"I said one, but ok. The Walrider does look like a smoke skeleton, thing. So ya, that would be it. And it's either a ghost, or sentient nanobots, or the mind of one of the patients, or a demon from German folklore, not sure which one."

Waylon raised an eyebrow at me, talk about a vote of no confidence.

"Ok, what happened to it?"

I took a look at Waylon, who looked back at me, a bit too wide eyed for my liking. "Not a damn clue"

I knew it that that was a lie, Waylon knew it, and Chealsy sure as hell knew it too.

"What happened to the Walrider Miles?"

She called me by my first name, I was in trouble now.

"Long story..."

"I've got time"

"Well..." there was no real way of putting it lightly.

"Is it out rampaging across Colorado?"

"Not in colorado, and I wouldn't say rampaging."

Waylon cut in "You wouldn't?"

"Oh not this again."

"Not what?" Chealsy must have known she was sitting at the edge of something juicy.

"So..."

I don't see why you aren't just telling her.

"... god damn it..." I don't want the Walrider talking to me during this

Waylon noticed my under the breath comment, I saw him skink back to the other side of his seat.

"Say again" chealsy said.

"So," I continued on "the Walrider's still alive. As alive as it ever was-"

More alive actually

"-and it's kind of... living in my head?"

"What."

"It's not as bad as it sounds."

Waylon snorted, natch.

"What" she repeated

"And, well. I mean, better to keep an eye on it. Right?"

"You're possessed." she finally managed to sputter out the words.

"Well, no."

"Sounds like you are."

"I'm not."

"Really?" Waylon cut in again.

"You know i'm not"

"Is he?" Chealsy asked him

"I'm right here you know." this was starting to get irritating.

"Kind of, I mean: the Walrider's definitely in there, but I don't really know how different-"

"Hi, never mind me. It's not like I'm literally two feet away from the both of you."

"Ok. Test of character, where were we the first time we slept together."

Oh shit

Back seat of the jeep

"Umm. The jeep?" Waylons face grew a few shades more red

"When's my birthday?"

June tenth

"June something"

"Mmmhmm, what story were we working on when you dumped me?"

I knew this one

"I was breaking a story on human trafficking in California, you were trying to steal credit for it."

"And what hotel were we staying at?"

It was a motel six

"Motel six"

"I'm convinced" chealsy said "He's possessed, and the Walrider or whatever seems smarter than Miles ever was."

"Hey!"

"Let's face it, theres no way in hell you would have remembered all of that."

That was true, but still, it's the principle of the thing.

"Fine, whatever" I talked on "We should get out of this parking lot, I don't want to be out in the open any longer than I need to be."

"Still as pushy as ever, some things never change."

Waylon mustered the will to speak up as we left the car "So, why exactly are we at a storage place?"

"Bug out rooms my dear boy."

"Oh, of course" at this point you'd think he'd stop being surprised by the odd habits of people I introduce him to.

We made our way into the climate controled place, following Chealsy all the way. She still had Waylons camera in hand. I had the mind to grab mine, I wasn't about to risk it getting stolen or lost. She lead us through the empty lobby and up a flight a stairs, conspicuously avoiding the elevator. After leaving the echoing stairwell we walked down a hallway that was surrounded on all sides by bright orange garage doors, each leading to a large storage unit.

At number 257 chealsy stopped to unlock and open the door. Once it was opened we were greeted by what seemed like a sheer wall of boxes and a wiry metal shelf.

"You two can stay here until we get something else sorted out." she said to us.

"Um, thank you?" Waylon tried to be polite.

Chealsy rolled her eyes, stepped forward and pushed on a stack of boxes; they slowly moved from place. After she made a bit more commotion than necessary there was space enough for someone to slip between the boxes, which Chelsy did.

"Down the rabbit hole we go" I told waylon with a shrug before squeezing past the boxes.

On the other side of the wall was an empty pocket. There were battery powered lamps, which Chealsy was systematically turning on. As the room grew brighter I could make out more details of the area. There was an aged couch sagging in the corner, complete with a coffee table that housed a radio. In the opposite corner was a desk table, with a chair, small file cabinet, and desk lamp. Against the wall of boxes was a curtain that would block any light that might seep through, against the back wall were two more wire shelves housing everything from car batteries to sleeping bags and from water jugs to cutlery.

"Cozy" I commented as Waylon shuffled into the room.

"I think so too" Chealsy jokingly agreed with me just before reaching through the gap to shut the garage door and pushing the boxes back into place.

I took a seat on the couch, Waylon perched himself on the office chair.

"So whats the plan ?" Chealsy still had the same teasing tone as always.

I took a second to look at Waylon. We both knew that Murkoff was going to burn, but priority number one for him was his children's safety.

Step one is to hunt down every one from the phones contact list.

Still looking at Waylon I said "priority number one is rescuing Waylons kids."

No it's not

"And how are we going to do that?"

"We? Your just here for the media coverage"

"So you two manly men are going to stroll into you-don't-know-where, pick up Waylons kids, and then walk back out, tipping your hats to Murkoff security all the way? Can either of you even pick a lock? No? You were just going to go in busting doors and taking names?" she stood with an impatient foot tapping on the ground and eyebrow cocked in disapprovement.

"Maybe we should bring her along" Waylon spoke up first.

No

"Fine, but you're not going into any buildings." I told her through gritted teeth.

"Worried about little old me? Please, it'll be just like old times. Remember when we snuck into that warehouse to get footage of that human traffickers?"

"Don't remind me."

That had been a disaster, the whole thing had collapsed, a fire broke out, the guy got away, and Chealsy and I nearly got burned alive.

"Good, you and Waylon can start doing your homework on Murkoff, I've got all your old files in that cabinet" she pointed to the file cabinet next to waylon

"Wait, what? I took all of those with me when I left."

"I made copies, you didnt really think i'd just let you escape with all that information, did you?"

...resourceful, isn't she.

Shut up.

"Whatever, you go do your thing, I'll do the actual research." I shrugged off my surprise.

"Just like old times" she had a wry smile spreading across her face.

Turning on her heel she struggled with the boxes- Waylon got up to help her- while I moved over to the file cabinet.

Rummaging through my pockets I pulled out the wrinkled napkin that held all the names from the 'agents' contact list. Most didn't stand out, though a few rang some bells. J. Blair, goddamn Trager, C. Houston, H. Granant, K. Drayer.

These weren't all at the asylum.

Ok, who was?

Blair we killed on the way out of Mount Massive. Trager you killed. Houston died early on. Drayer we destroid. Granant is still alive.

What do you know about him?

She left early on, so not much.

That was a first.

"Hey Waylon, the name Granant mean anything to you?"

He had just finished pushing the boxes back into place "Um, the name was on a lot of corporate memos. First name Hellen?"

...Yes

"ya, her name was on Figueroa's contact list."

"Must be important then."

I took hard look at the napkin "Lets hope so."