A/N: Thanks again to leathman for reviewing. I do have to wonder, though - what happened to everyone else?

Chapter XII: To Snare a Slayer

2 November 2998

Imra was awoken at 0630 by the gentle ringtone of her personal communicator. She reached out a slender arm and plucked the device from her bedside table, using one finger to answer the call without checking the caller ID. The comscreen opened up, and Imra bolted upright in her bed, fully awake.

"Lyle!"

"That's my name," came the cheeky reply.

"Oh, grife…Are you all right? Your dad and I have been so worried. Where are you? What have you been doing?" Her questions spilled thick and fast, releasing the pent-up concern and anxiety of the last few days while her eyes searched the background behind him for clues to his whereabouts.

"Whoa, whoa." Lyle held up his hands in surrender. "One at a time, Imra."

Imra took a breath and started again with the most important question. "Are you all right?"

"Never better," Lyle assured her. "Before all the hullaballoo in the Botanic Gardens broke out, I saw one guy hiding out near a bunch of bushes. I had a hunch that he was up to something, so I turned invisible and tried to approach him, but I couldn't stop him from shooting at the Knights and I couldn't catch him when all the other lasers started flying. Then I had some trouble turning visible again…" He caught the look on Imra's face and hastily added, "It was a minor thing – it hasn't happened since! Although I did have to throw the clothes away – they just wouldn't reappear," he admitted.

"This is what you get when you inject yourself with an untested serum." Imra was too relieved that he was all right to put more than a gentle rebuke in her tone; Lyle realized this and grinned. "What happened next?"

"Well, since no one could see me, I had to get out before I got crushed. It took me maybe an hour to work my way back to the visible spectrum again. I would've gone to your place then, but EI called – they knew I'd been in the Gardens and when they heard I'd seen the guy, they put me to tracking him."

"This was one of those missions you couldn't inform anyone about?"

"Kinda. See, Sci-Pol only just decided that all the murders in the past two weeks are connected, but EI knew very early that there was a serial killer at work. Since my dad's the chief, I wasn't allowed to tell him what I was doing – and technically you're Sci-Pol too, so…"

Imra frowned. "Why wasn't Sci-Pol allowed to know about Earthgov's suspicions?"

"We don't hand over information to Sci-Pol until we have all the evidence wrapped in a neat little package. That's the way it works at EI."

Lyle sounded a tad defensive, Imra knew better than to press for more detail. Instead she inquired, "Have you called your dad?"

"We-ell…"

She rolled her eyes. "Why do I get the feeling there's more to this call than you checking in?"

"Because there is," Lyle admitted frankly. "I know who the killer's next target is."

Imra had started to relax somewhat, but her spine snapped back into a ramrod position at this. "Who?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"R.J. Brande."

There was a beat as Imra processed this. "Why tell me?"

Lyle snorted. "Well, for some reason, Loretta Lane failed to appear at her Pulitzer ceremony yesterday, and that's just not like her, you know?"

Imra raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I did some digging, and it turns out, she was warned to stay away by – get this – three teenagers." Lyle's voice had assumed a rather meaningful undertone.

"Okay, so I warned her about the target on her back. It's common courtesy, Lyle."

"Yeah, but it wasn't just you, was it? You went to see Loretta with Rokk Krinn and a Winathian who only arrived in New Metropolis a few days ago." Lyle was on a roll with his little story by now, so Imra just let him continue. "Then I found out that someone had sent an anonymous tip to Mayor Fleming's security team warning them about an attempt on her life, and when I traced that back to you as well, I knew you were up to something. So I hacked into Merriweather and asked him to tell me what you'd been doing."

Imra's eyes narrowed. "I wish you would stop doing that. It's no wonder his programming is all over the place, what with you poking around his databanks every once in a while."

"I'm a spy, Imra – hacking stuff is my job."

"And the point you're trying to make is?"

"The point," said Lyle, "is that the private investigation you've been running is more than what NMPD have been able to piece together even though they have more resources, more manpower, and more evidence. My dad's been complaining that they're overstretched and overloaded, which isn't their fault – but I figured if I told you who the next victim is, you three would be more likely to be able to do something about it."

"When is it happening?"

"Tomorrow, at the charity event at the Superman Museum. Brande's arriving this afternoon from Mars."

Imra did some quick thinking. Sci-Pol would definitely put in a presence at the event, but they still didn't know who they were looking for and their killer was slippery enough to escape even those who knew him by sight. Earthgov Intelligence would prefer not to get involved because doing so would require them to step out of the shadows where they worked best. Lyle was right; the three of them had the best chance of catching the killer and ending the serial murders tomorrow. It didn't take long for her to make up her mind – and really, she'd made the decision the minute Lyle told her that Brande was a victim.

"We're on it."

When Imra knocked on the door of the guest room, she was not surprised to find Rokk and Garth already awake and talking quietly, as was their wont. Of the three of them, Imra was the one who normally awoke the latest; Rokk was by nature an early riser, and years of helping out on his family's farm had trained Garth to wake at the crack of dawn each day, so the two of them usually spent some time chatting while waiting for Imra to wake up and have breakfast with them, which was normally around 0800. The result of these morning conversations was a rapidly developing brotherly bond between the two boys, one that belied the fact that they had started off on most definitely the wrong foot.

"You're up early," Rokk observed as Imra opened the door.

"I finally heard from Lyle," was her answer.

Garth was immediately interested. "And?"

"As I suspected, he's on a mission for Earthgov Intelligence. They've been tracking the murders, same as we have – and Lyle called to tell me who the next victim is."

Both boys straightened in anticipation. "Who is it?" Rokk asked.

"R.J. Brande."

Rokk frowned. "As in the third-richest man in the galaxy, R.J. Brande?"

"Yes."

Garth whistled. "He definitely fits the victim profile."

"He's hosting a charity event at the Superman Museum tomorrow evening as part of a galactic fundraising campaign for underprivileged children," Imra informed them. "That's where the killer is planning to get him."

"Hold on – Lyle told you this, right?" Rokk sounded cautious. "Does that mean Earthgov actually wanted us to know this? Like, do they expect us to do something?"

"We were going to do it anyway," Imra pointed out. "But I don't think Lyle gave me the information in an official capacity. Reading between what he said, I think he made the decision to tell us on his own." She frowned. "In fact, I'm not even sure whether EI actually knows we're investigating this as well, or whether Lyle took it upon himself to find out what we're doing without informing his superiors."

"Isn't that insubordinance?" asked Garth. "He could get fired for that."

Imra shrugged helplessly. "Lyle makes his own decisions. Whatever his relationship with Earthgov is, it's not our business – he knows what he's doing. At least, I hope he does." She shook her head. "What is our business now is R.J. Brande and tomorrow's charity event. The way things stand, the three of us are the only ones who can prevent Brande's murder."

"It's also probably our last chance to nab the killer," Garth added. "Rokk has to leave the day after tomorrow."

Rokk started slightly. "I'd almost forgotten about that."

Garth clucked in mock disapproval. "What a wonderful captain you are."

"Shut up, Garth."

"If we want to be sure to catch the killer this time, we'll need to plan," said Imra.

"Plan what?" Garth questioned. "Aren't we taking the direct approach this time?"

"We still need a plan," Rokk pointed out. "Going the direct route is all good and well, but we aren't going to get anywhere if we run about like headless chickens. We need a strategy."

"You're starting to sound like this is a Magnoball game."

"The same principle applies."

"Okay, I'll buy that," Garth allowed. He glanced at Imra. "Breakfast first, then plan?"

It didn't take long for them to finish eating; by 0800 they were settled in the living room with their assortment of holoscreens, ready to plan.

"I think we should stay outside the museum," Rokk said, mulling over a 3D street plan of the Superman Museum.

"Why outside?" asked Garth.

"That way we can see whoever goes in; we'll know the minute the killer shows up."

"We can't just hang around outside like a bunch of morons – people will wonder what we're doing," Garth argued.

"Not if we camouflage ourselves." Imra sounded like she had an idea. "Rokk, you said all the Knights have holorings, right?"

"Yes."

"If you can borrow two from them for Garth and me, I can modify the perception filter to make the holo-projection reflect our surroundings instead of creating an avatar."

"That would make us invisible, right?" Garth queried.

"Not completely – there'd still be a light shimmer around us because the perception filter can only do so much – but it's enough. And we wouldn't risk spooking the killer if he sees us."

"I think I can get two of my teammates to lend us their rings," Rokk agreed.

Garth had a thoughtful frown on his face. "Okay, so we use the rings to camouflage ourselves and wait outside for the killer; then what?"

"I think I know what we can do, but I'll need some time to work it out properly."

"All right." Imra swept all the holoscreens over to Rokk, a clear invitation for him to do as he pleased. "I have something I want to do with Garth, so we'll leave you to it."

"What are we doing?" the Winathian asked, obligingly rising as Imra stood.

"I need to help you gain full control over your lightning. The museum will be packed with people – you'll need to be able to use your powers without accidentally hitting someone."

"I've been getting better since Rokk helped," he protested.

"I know you have. But we don't want to risk you losing control for whatever reason – you could easily kill someone."

Garth scowled. "I wish you two would stop saying that – I know that already. But I think I have enough control now to not kill someone even if I accidentally hit them." He looked slightly wounded that she had so little faith in him. Imra's expression became contrite.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she apologized. "What I meant was, I can help you to master the lightning so you won't accidentally hit anyone even with a low voltage bolt."

"Can we do that in two days?" Garth sounded dubious.

"I think you can manage it," Imra said with a smile. "Rokk, we'll be back later. Garth, come with me."

Rokk and Garth exchanged glances before the latter shrugged and followed Imra up the stairs.

"Don't tell me you have a special electrically-insulated room or something," he said half-jokingly.

"Not quite." Imra led him up to the small third storey, which housed only one room. Garth frowned, puzzled.

"Why are we using your room?" he asked as Imra opened the door.

"Because it's the closest we'll get to insulated in this house."

"What?" Garth took a few moments to look around; both he and Rokk had discovered early into their stay that Imra's bedroom was on the highest floor of the house (whereas the two other doors on the second floor led to Sydne's room and guest room number two), but he'd never been in it before. As he'd suspected, given Imra's apparent fondness for the color, the walls were painted a light pink, with one accent wall that was a darker rose shade. The eiderdown on her queen size bed was white with pink roses, and most of her furniture was white and made out of wood, rather than the more modern metal or synthetic materials that were the default in the 30th century.

"Nice rustic sense," he complimented. "Reminds me of Winath."

Imra shrugged. "I prefer cozy to modern."

"So why your room?" Garth asked again.

"It's insulated against psychic energies," Imra explained, much to Garth's confusion. "You're not the only one who has trouble controlling your powers."

Garth had a blank look on his face. "What…you?" he said in surprise. "But your control's amazing."

"When I'm awake it is," Imra conceded. "Not so much when I'm asleep. It doesn't happen much anymore, but I do sometimes still unintentionally pick up on the thoughts of people in the house – or project my own nightmares."

Garth frowned, not sure he liked where this was going. "What nightmares?"

"Nothing for you to worry about. Like I said, it doesn't happen often now. But the insulation will keep you from accidentally setting my room on fire, to a certain extent." She smiled wryly.

Garth looked wary. "What, exactly, am I going to be doing?"

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

After a moment's hesitation, Garth squeezed his eyelids shut. "Now what?"

Instead of responding, Imra placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and gently guided him forward a few steps before turning him. "Think about something that makes you angry."

"Um…are you sure that's a good idea?" Garth questioned, eyes still closed. "Even if I don't set your room on fire, I could definitely scorch some furniture."

"You're facing an empty wall. If you can't control the lightning, you can direct it at the wall. You won't do any damage, don't worry."

"Okay…" Garth sounded dubious, but he nonetheless dredged up the memory of the vapid, conceited, airheaded lady who had arrogantly asserted Mekt's 'guilt' and angrily demanded his arrest. His blood pressure rose just thinking about his brother's unfair imprisonment, and he felt his skin begin to tingle with the ever-present lightning.

"That's it," Imra encouraged. "Keep thinking about it until you can't control the lightning anymore."

"And then what?"

"Then I'll teach you how to reassert control."

Garth cracked open an eye. "By that time I'll have already lost control."

"I'll intervene just before you reach that point."

"How will you know when that is?"

"I'll know."

Garth huffed and slid his eye closed again. "All right. I'm trusting you here."

Imra smiled, though Garth couldn't see. "Thank you."

The electricity rippling just above Garth's skin had subsided somewhat as he talked to Imra, so he concentrated on getting angry again, recalling the Science Police knocking on the door of his house on Winath to arrest Mekt; the insipid socialite loudly proclaiming Mekt's wrongdoing to anyone who would listen; the hardheaded insistence of Sci-Pol as they overrode his family's attempts to convince them of Mekt's innocence; the swift sentencing of Mekt to jail by the chief of Winath's Area 3 without trial; his anger when he realized Mekt was going to be imprisoned in Takron Galtos instead of the local jail; listening to Mekt's last message and realizing what Sci-Pol's misconduct had pushed his brother into…

The tingling intensified until it was almost painful, and Garth realized he was about to set loose a bolt of lightning a split-second before he heard Imra's voice in his head.

~Focus, Garth. Clear your mind.~

~Can't.~ He was shaking with the effort of keeping the lightning in him, having reached the 'point of no return', where he was too angry to be able to calm himself down.

~Garth…~

Before Imra could get any further, electricity surged towards her wall. Garth, still surrounded by lightning, opened his eyes and was relieved to find that Imra had been telling the truth – her wall wasn't even scorched. "Nass," he cursed.

"It's okay," said Imra. "Let's try that again. Close your eyes."

Garth sighed, and obediently shut his eyes once more.

A/A:

1. Yup, more hints about Imra.