if you want to vent about anything in this chapter, feel free to blame my computer which DELETED most of what i had originally written (this poor fanfiction just can't catch a break) but i hope the wait was worth it (and yes, the first quarter of this is a modified/extended version of what was originally written) And please forgive the one curse word in the end.

Ekaterina:

It was dim, so Alistair couldn't see his surroundings beyond the singular light bulb hanging in front of him in that cliché movie-styled fashion. His hands were bound behind his back to a very uncomfortable wooden chair, which he probably would've been able to escape from had it not been for his rather distracting, empty stomach. The time was passed by running scenarios through his head. Maybe when they came to deliver his food, they would untie his hands…well, if they delivered food. They could just leave him here if they wanted him dead. But who could possibly want him dead...Bae! Why, if Alistair found out that it was him who was behind this he would—

"Alistair," a male voice came out of the surrounding darkness. "Do you know why you're here?" Alistair refused to speak, for perhaps his voice would betray him and reveal the quiver of fear he felt in the pit of his stomach—fear that he assured himself probably rose from being low on sustenance. He shook his head. "I would prefer that you answer with words," the man said stepping closer to the light.

"No, I do not see any reason why I should be here," Alistair stated, relieved that his voice remained steady. But he was unsure whether or not he should be relieved that the man in front of him was young—of age to be a junior in college—and seemed well-built. There was a very little chance Alistair could beat him in combat, but since the man was young, perhaps he could outsmart him.

"Simple," the man said, with no trace of emotion. "You tell us everything you know about Demetrius, and we let you live." Alistair's stiffened, his thoughts of escape gone as soon as the utterly unanticipated demand was put forth. But Alistair said nothing. He couldn't tell them the truth, and he certainly wasn't going to test the sincerity of that death threat. As he was about to open his mouth to feed his deceitful lies, the man held up a finger in warning. "I wouldn't lie if I were you," he said ominously.

A device, a chip of some sort, Alistair thought. They must have put some miniscule lie detector on me. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself to say what he would be unable to take back.

"Demetrius meet her while she was on her journey to Cairo," the old Korean began wearily, "and was determined to win her heart. We Ekats can only guess when he fell in love with her, but that by the time Katherine was in Egypt, he had the intention to marry her. He was originally just supposed to be her escort from Macedonia to Egypt, but he wanted to be more. She was in fervent pursuit of the clues, and scoffed at the notion of being courted, at that time. But as I said, he was determined. So he insisted on becoming he partner, in research and helping to find clues. She agreed only because she was sure that he would soon be scared off, but it was not so. He knew the best way to win her heart was to prove himself-to show that he was her intellectual equal...many Ekats thought he did so by finding a few of the clues-which he did-but they should've known it would take much more to win Katerina's love..."

He would never get used to the desert air-its weight, its driness, the heat it held, even at night. But he would endure it all to see the gleam of victory in her eyes, her smile, and her triumphant laugh. Whenever she found a clue, it was as if the flame that burned inside her became more intense. Perhaps tonight would be one of those nights.

"Demetri," she called, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Move faster! We are close! I can feel it..." He strode foreward, struggling against the sand. When he finally caught up to her, he found her digging vigorously. Putting down his pack, he retrieved his own shovel, and started to dig. With both their efforts, it didn't take long to dig deep, and, more importantly, find the stone. "Yes! That woman wasn't conning us after all!" Demetri sighed, but smiled despite the sweat that glossed his brow. Retriving a canteen from his pack, and chugging the reviving water. "Thank you, Demetri. Without you, it would've taken me ages to shovel through." Katerina's thankful expression turned hard when she saw a hopeful one spread across her companion's face. "No. Marriage is out of the question." He said no more, and neither did she. They both knew he wasn't going to give up.

But he knew he still had a chance. He knew she would never admit it, but he was key in finding the Clue. He had played a role that she didn't want to need. The capabilites of his mind had expanded. He was now not only her equal, but a rival-whether or not he realized it.

"He traveled with her: to Egypt, to Morrocco, to India, to France, to Italy. And each step of the way, he woud impress Katherine more and more. How invaluable he was in the clue hunt! He was sharp, quick, and handsome...naturally, Katernia did not refuse him for long." Alistair stopped his story, for he heard his captor snickering. The young man noticed his bewildered expression and humored him.

"Katherine never suspected anything, did she?" Alistair stiffened, feeling the need to defend the ancesotr he held in such reverance.

"Of course she did! How else would she find out the reason he seemed to have become her intellectual equal?"

"And, do you know what that reason is?"

"Of course I do! Drugs!" The smirk fell off his captor's face.

"Drugs?" the young man asked, disbelif evident in his voice. "That's what you call his creation?"

"Why wouldn't I call it that? A substance that can provide a man the IQ it gave Demitrius can only be referred to as that, honestly."

"Then perhaps that's the par Kathrine's intelligence should be on. Wasn't her intellect obtained that same way." Fury stirred in Alistair chest, he scoffed in comtempt.

"Please, Katherine's intellect was already there, it just...inhanced it a bit. And at least hers was permanent and genetic, his had to be created and taken over and over again."

"True. Which is why you are here."

Lucian

Vikram Kobra watched Madame Karisa as she scanned the file. Her ease in the chair-legs crossed, back straight-didn't fool him; though it did make him wonder whether it was his gaze or the information that caused her...discomfort. After a moment or so, she placed the file back into its envelope.

"What makes you assume that we had no knowledge of this information? Demitrius was one of us." A sort of satisfaction welled up inside Vikram, not only because of the implied challenge she gave, but because of what she didn't admit.

"If you did, you wouldn't have captured Sirena back in 2000." Madame Karisa remained composed, her face even, and her tone icy.

"She was a Viper. How would a Cahill come to know, let alone care to remember such a fact?" Vikram didn't hesitate.

"I have my ways."

"Cahills, Vipers—your all the same to us. Your 'ways' are all the same to us."

"Then why the involvement?" She had the blade of her knife at his throat so fast that he didn't even register her movement. Beneath his stoic exterior, the Kobra's heart pounded in his chest, begging for the air his lungs held captive.

"You arrogant, pompous bastard," she hissed, the ice melting from the heat of her fury. "We are not insane Cahills, nor are we heartless Vipers! We are not tied by our blood, but rather the blood that your family sheds. All the lives you took, all the hearts you shattered—they have not been forgotten. Victims of you Tyrants will always be avenged, make no mistake of that." The daggers she glared were as sharp as the blade she lowered. "We are done here."

Jack

Never would Jack forget the Cahill who tore his family apart. A Janus-gorgeous, creative, and his father's mistress. The moment she entered his life, he knew she was trouble. His parents never really used to fight, but as soon as she made her entrance the arguing started. The arguing turned to yelling. Then the yelling turned to silence.

He hated the silence.

So, of course his dad left. There was no custody battle—Ms. Janus didn't want him, so Dad didn't either. Nonetheless, when he was eleven, he was sent to them when his mother died of cancer. At first, he was basically ignored. They never ate with him; he just had whatever microwavable meal that was in the house at the table by himself while they went out. Heck, they didn't even bother asking the generic "how was school today?" Of course, that was until she saw him messing with the toaster one day.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, as if he had lost his mind. He didn't even bother to look up—he was sick of seeing her dark black ringlets.

"Taking apart, and putting back together the toaster." She took in a breath, as if she was going to scold or taunt him, but she immediately closed her mouth, pondering.

"How fast we you able to do it?" Jack hesitated, unused to the attention.

"Now that I have practice, roughly 45 minutes if I don't take it totally apart."

"Who taught you?" Instead of hesitation, this time Jack stopped working all together. He straightened, and scrutinized her faux-innocent expression.

"Why do you care?" Her eyebrow lifted and her face took on that familiar haughty derision.

"Just answer the question, Jackass."

"No one." The corner of her pink lip gloss smeared mouth quirked up into a sly smile. That was when his training began for the Janus.