In Pieces

by Suzue0Shayana

A shattered story about a woman who had lost something important during every part of her life. Will she be able to collect her missing 'pieces? 'Dialogues as sharp as thongs hurting your butt and as incisive as a bitchslap. Reflections as brilliant as a Vegas neon. Cliffhangers as violent as truck drifts' - at least Zhalia says so, you'll check it yourself!

19. Chapter 19: Trapped

Uhm, hi there...

Damn, I'm so sorry. I'm so freaking sorry that I can't say it in proper words. You can't even imagine how bad I feel with myself recently, with the awareness that I kept giving you promises and then not fulfilled them. And if I just hadn't even tried! But I did. I was writing this part of the chapter every single spare moment. And then I realized that even doing my best, I couldn't do it as fast I had sworn. It tires me so much. It sounds so lame, but I feel as if I didn't have enough time for studying, other people, my hobbies, rest... I don't want to drop anything, so I keep struggling to balance everything. Oh no, now I made it sound as if I was a martyr or something. No, I'm not. Probably I'm just a badly organized person and a perfectionist, which is quite a difficult mix, believe me...

Alright, no more complaints and excuses. After all, I'm not good at them either. They don't sound convincing enough even for me. Maybe 'cause I'm angry with myself. Or maybe because I can't find a way to spill my heart here and let you see that I'm really ashamed.

It's time to answer your reviews. I wonder if I shouldn't respond to them by private messages, it would be way faster... I wouldn't need a new chapter to respond. However, I'm not sure if it would work, as some of you guys are not registered on ff. What do you think? Please, let me know.

- Kimberly: I'm sorry for your insomnia caused by ZhaliaXRyder, but I think you made up for the lost sleep during the whole time I was off ^^ I also find their relationship interesting enough to write about. Sometimes I just need a huge dose of straight-forwardness, and with Zhalia and Dante... well, that's more complicated. Thanks to hers and Ryder's mutual affiliation to the Organization, they can be more open towards themselves, though only in work matters, as you see... oh no, wait, I take it back, there was a hot night and a kiss on the way ;P I think that the bond is more erotic and sexual than spiritual, as you noticed. Ryder draws Zhalia by his kind-of-animalistic charm, it attracts her primitive instincts. It's more like an addiction than real fondness on her side, and he... well, which light-hearted guy would throw a willing girl outta his bed? :] They had an affair in the past which ended up quite badly, but that's another story which will be described here for sure... but not today nor tomorrow. I plan to add it to chapter... well, let me count... 23, I think, something around that. I hope it would be believable enough to make you understand why Zhalia feels a strange connection with Ryder. Maybe Dante will also understand... when/if he finds out. I won't say now ;)

- Jess: Wow, I'm so glad I updated around your birthday ^^ You guys should really send me your dates of birth to let me give you all such gifts, as I'm not able to send any other ones! I'm glad Ryder came out just the way I wanted him to be. He differs from his comics portrayal, but I like this one better. I think Zhalia would go crazy with someone as boring as his drawn counterpart... He was too good, just like another version of Grier. I thought that we lack a really bad boy here, full of that naughty charm we girls sometimes like so much ;) Zhalia herself doesn't know if she loves or hates him more, I think. Her thoughts are too twisted. I will explain them in the following parts of the chapter.

- CindyKayla: Oh my, I didn't know you're Chinese! Now I'm embarrassed that I keep on sulking 'bout Chinese! However, it's a bit hard for me to study both Japanese and Chinese. Chinese grammar is similar to Polish, but I don't get the tones. In Polish there's no difference on which tone you sat the word, it has the same meaning. And the signs differ from Japanese. As I have to focus on Japanese, I don't have much heart for Chinese... It would be way easier if Chinese was my main goal. Maybe I will try to study it harder to have an opportunity to write to you in your own language... I'll do my best!
You're the first to call Ryder irritating, that's refreshing :D I also think he's annoying. But in quite a funny way. Besides, even such a knight in shiny armor like Dante irritates Zhalia, why Ryder wouldn't?! ^^ Don't say anything about Scarlet... I'm a bit fed up with her, though she can always be a scapegoat in the chapters. And she won't change into anything more than it and a flirt for quite a long time :]

- Joey8: DAM DAM DAM DAM side drums

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for existing, being my Reader, commenting my work, having such a lovely, wise and witty personality and helping me with the plot! I truly enjoy the lecture of everything you write to me and take your advices to my heart. Thanks to you, this part of the chapter was finally made, and the rest got clear in my mind. I'm happy to know you, even though only in the Internet. I wish you all the best luck, personal successes, everlasting happiness, fulfilling your deepest, most precious dreams and life full of wonderful surprises!

I guess me updating finally is one of them, though I'm not sure if it's really all that wonderful ^^ I'm sorry it's just a part again, but just think about it - you will have a gift divided in two parts and when you receive the second one, it will be just like having another birthday the same year, won't it? ;P

And with that positive accent, I'm clearing off, ashamed of my silliness and afraid of your guys reaction to the chapter and my final arrival!

All yours (I wish!),
Sha

---

Dear Readers,

that's me, the unworthy 'prodigal daughter' again... I come back to you after a long, long time and beg your forgiveness for not answering to all your pleas and questions.
I know I repeated it like a hundred times by now, but I cannot find any better way to express how sorry I am for all the delays and even crossing the deadline I set myself by almost a month. A MONTH! What happended to me?!
Of course, first there were exams, which were difficult enough to take the best of me and let me write just like a paragraph a day, of course if I wasn't too mentally exhausted to fall onto my pillow and get some sleep. Luckily, I passed them better than I expected, given my habit of leaving everything for the last moment. Even the oral exam ended up well! Very, very well. That's the biggest surprise for me, as I'm a bit shy when it comes to speaking foreign languages. I can write an epistle, but when it comes to a speech, I'm left... well, speechless ^^ No wonder the writing grammar exam didn't stress me as much. There was no better achievement during this examination that getting praised by my fussy, strict grammar teacher... and passing both history exams as well! Yes, I did it finally! Not that I didn't have some 'study aids' under my skirt... I know it's awful, but that was the last resort. I really studied before and wrote most of the exam without any additional help. Just the details. I mentioned before how I suck at the basic history events, let alone all those minor dates and people. And I guess I messed up the pictures of the famous leaders... I just went like, writing down the names I knew (the well-known ones, like Nobunaga, Tokugawa and so on) in a random order... I know that was silly! I promised myself to read at least one historical book to make up for mu dumbness.

Unluckily, when I finally got home, my brain totally opposed me. You know, I was really fed up with the examination and my flat (which is quite a nice one, but not like home, and staying there for a longer period of time really gets on my nerves; I guess I'm hell of a family girl, a domestic animal of sorts), so I expected to return shortly after the last paper, get few days of sleeping, goofing off, kicking my feet up and doing nothing in particular, and regain some strength that way, then do all the creative things I delayed in time: writing, reading lots of fantasy books (love them), doing some crafts, maybe taking up a sport... and then, there was a brainfart. My mind was like: 'nope, I don't want to do anything meaningful, let's watch some random movies, lay the whole day, eat a lot of ice creams and get fat. Oh, and don't expect to sleep well - you love horrors so much, why not have some during your dreams? Nightmares every night, yeeeeah!' And that still isn't over, sadly. I don't know why. Is it the stress leaving my body and soul? Or maybe I just can't adjust to the new holiday schedule? I hope there's no other, more serious case. My family is quite prone to such health weaknesses...

However, I decided to battle against my 'laziness' or whatsoever. I didn't give up and struggled to finish that chapter. I'm well-aware that since I suffer some kind of writer's block, it's not magnificent. It may also not be good at all. However, I did my best. I'm not sure if this one will end as it's written now. I still have one part that I'm not sure where suits better. I'll tell you for sure if I decide to stick it to that one. I just couldn't keep you waiting anymore due to my hesitance.
As you see, there are many changes to the previous version - particularly Zhalia's POV stuffed between Dante's parts. I recommend you to read the old ones as well, though, as I added something here and there. Even the title is different. Why? Because it suited the next chapter better. Pre-empting your question: yes, there will be one more chapter about the Carrowkeel commotion, and I hope to finally close that case and move back to the series plot for a while, as we come closer and closer to Zhalia's turnabout... However, I just can't keep from stuffing Brady's jokes here and there. Though he and the rest of Irish compound are planned to play a major role in the future, I'll greatly miss them during the time when they stay in the shadows... It's some kind of a non-dangerous writer's pride -.^

Now, it's the high time to answer your reviews:
- Jess: Now I feel bad that I insisted on comments so much... When I read your review, I was like: 'My reader is apologizing to me, though it's me who's at a real fault. I'm a bad writer T.T Yet, I'm called a genius! T.T How touching can it get?!' I'm glad I only boosted your love for Dante... I really enjoyed describing him as losing a bit of his collected demeanor. He's awesome the way he is, but it can sometimes get bored when you are supposed to keep his emotions at bay, right? ;) The annoyed, angry Dante opens up new opportunities for his character development... and the plot, of course. He/Murray clash is approaching.
- Kimberly: It's alright, as you saw, I'm no stranger to the examination madness... I hope yours went as good as mine. I kept thinking about you and wondering how you were doing those tough times!
Ben Affleck is my hit as well ^^ I can't tell I watched a lot of movies starring him, but still, I adore his looks. He's getting better as he grows older, I think! I don't mind his current bearded image, though it covers his cleft chin (I have a thing for such dimples, I must admit... so adorable!). In fact, it makes him look kind of... refined? I hope you know what I mean.
Yeah, it was fun to rage as Murray and put Dante's nose in the dirt for a while... I just thought that's how fame works: some people love you, a few don't care, the others hate you. And since most of the co-workers is in awe for Dante, I thought that changing it would create a nice plot twist and force our heroes to push themselves to their limits... I guess I'm a drama queen most of the times ;P
I noticed that sometimes the words in your comments are missing, but as I understand them all nevertheless, I didn't really mind.
I hope that Zhalia's POV will clear the doubts who the blonde girl is ;)
- Joey8: I don't believe you that all the chapters are so great ;P In fact, I'm not satisfied with 'Deceptive Desires' and '(Un)Deserved Trust', as they lacked the special touch. There are some parts of them I like, though... which happen to be Dante-Zhalia scenes I added ^^ as you see, I can also be a romance sucker...
Seems like Brady totally won you over ^^ I have to admit, I greatly enjoy his presence here. He's kind of a happy-go-lucky, as Zhalia described him, but not without a rebel touch. We've got one bad boy before, but he's a totally different type, as you saw. Good thing he doesn't hesitate to share a laugh with everyone! And I guess that Zhalia's behavior struck him at once, and that's how he expressed his attention - with a joke, of course. I promise I will explain Brady-Murray antipathy further, as well as give some details on McKenna and Brady's friendship and what keeps them so close to each other.

We have also few new guests here, whom I would love to greet:

- flowergirly2: Thanks for your comment! I hope I won't let you down with the next chapter, please, stay tuned! :)
- Lady Elvira: Wow, that was unexpected ^^ I got used to having a small crowds of faithful readers, I didn't think there would be more of them, and, what's more important, leaving such detailed comments! Thank you! I love meeting people who have a similar view on the story I enjoy so much.
When I started watching Huntik, I was really happy that the characters show so much potential to write about - while Dante is a valuable man of honor and a strong leader, he's also quite hopeless with his old-fashioned fads (let's just have a peek at his duster or glasses) and can turn bossy, moody or reserved at times; Zhalia is a tough street girl yet with an elegant, sensual touch, but can loose her temper quite often and despite her self-confidence, gets to the verge of failing her mission more that once; and so on...
However, as much as I love dwelling into the heroes' personalities, experiences and traumas, I also didn't want the story to turn only to the sad drama note. It's totally not my style. I prefer the sarcastic tone most of the times - that's why the serious parts strike even more. Stephen King and many cynical Polish writers taught me that (not personally, of course ^^). I feel comfortable enough the way it is. Sorry for the language, but I want to be as close to the common expressions as possible, and sadly, people use words like 'sh*t' and 'fag' too often. Zhalia was raised on the streets, so she knows them too well... Also, the intertextuality is one of my favourite writing measure, of course only when I'm not writing fantasy or sci-fi. It gives the story a nice touch of reality - after all, it's not set in an alternate universe, so I think that the characters shouldn't be separated from the mass culture.
The reason I write Dante's POV in third person is that I can't really 'talk' and 'think' like a guy. I tried so, but it didn't seem convincing enough. It's easier to describe his emotions when I'm not exactly pretending to have a male brain and body... With Zhalia, it was more natural. I even put some of my comments on the Huntik universe into her mouth ^^
As for the relationship: I mentioned many times before I don't really think they were interested in each other right from the start. Zhalia has her bad experiences with guys, and Dante is too preoccupied to think about girls. Of course he's a man, so he probably finds Zhalia attractive, but not to the point of flirting with her. Not that I imagine him wooing girls at all. Not now for sure, maybe in his younger years. He sometimes exposes some of the charming skills that he still possesses, but generally stays on the serious side and wins them over with his natural charisma and reliability. Metz' illness changed him much, I guess, and so, he has no time to waste for romances. However, sometimes love finds us when we least expect it, and it's pointless to fight it...
I'm a bit scared of you right now, as I plan to write about both Zhalia's and Dante's past relationship and worry that you will flame me for that ;) I can't help but like messing with their relationship in every way possible. Of course not overdoing it; soap opera scenarios are not my taste exactly.
The truth is, I just browsed Vienna attractions and thought that the butterly house would be the most romantic of them all... also, there's a song of Shinedown 'The Crow and the Butterfly' which would probably be featured in one of the chapters, and so, I wanted to associate Zhalia with them.
As you see, you don't have to worry about the length of your comments, I tend to have a word stream as well ^^
- darkbluecookie79: Hi there :) As you see, my holidays have already started. I'm free till October. However, I know why you ask - don't worry, I won't leave for that long again without a word of explanation.
- Also, big thanks for two new Story Favourites from Tatosha and kirianaboo! You are always welcome here!

See what a hopeless case I am? I stay silent for few months and when I start to blabber, I cannot stop ^^ Anyway, I'm not gonna hold you back any longer. Enjoy the next chapter (even if it'll be hard to, given my recent writer weakness)!

Yours,
Sha

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15th July 2009, Wednesday, 18:01

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

The first gangplank between the Carrowkeel explosion survivors and the outer world was a warm, damp touch Dante suddenly felt on his hand, joined by a mass of shaggy fur and energetic yet non-violent dabs of a fleshy tail against his calves.

'Good girl, Missy!', the echo praised, but the golden retriever seemed more content when Dante knelt down to deal with its outburst of affection by patting its sides and scratching its fur. Vale quickly regretted that choice; though he had a liking to animals, dogs in particular, and enjoyed their contact a lot, he wasn't quite as pleased when they were drowning him in their saliva, enjoying this way of showing their happiness a lot.

'Oh my, you can never keep fangirls away', Zhalia commented, observing the playing which slowly started to resemble wrestling, with Missy being on the upper hand. 'They go wild around you, no matter what species they are.'

'Very funny', Vale squinted his lids not to let the dog lick his eyeballs, what it definitely tried to achieve. Luckily, Missy quickly ran out of her interest in him when she had bestowed him with all her favors. She started to sniff Zhalia's boots curiously, causing the woman to observe her cautiously.

'Don't you even think about it', she warned the retriever putting a paw on her knee. 'I don't enjoy such caresses.'

The dog yelped quietly, wagging its tail right and left and looking at her with large, emphatic eyes.

'Sorry, girl', the operative Moon smirked, pushing it away, 'but I'm not moved by your little I'm-so-adorable tricks. Try them with that one here. He seems to have fun with your kisses.'

The dog hadn't gotten discouraged by the woman's antipathy, though. The retriever wandered around her, sniffing the ground and catching the smell of her trousers with its nose few centimeters apart from her thigh. Dante felt a soft brush of fur on his arm when the animal moved its tail nervously; probably, it didn't like the odor of the explosive material still stuck to Zhalia's clothes or the scent left by the interaction with the goon. However, Missy didn't back; her attempts to get to know Zhalia better only increased. Though Moon was clearly expressing her discontent by pulling away as far as she could, the canine almost climbed onto her lap blindly, still snuffing with dedication, a bit surprising given that it fulfilled its duty by finding the explosion victims. Luckily, before Missy added few injuries to the woman's list, a fluorescent vest stuck out brightly in the flashlight's beam and a short, stocky rescue worker pulled the golden retriever back sturdily by its collar.

'No, no, it's enough of your frolics now, young lady', he calmed the hound down, 'I guess our survivors had enough of assaults for today', he smiled, tapping the dog's back. 'Thank God we found you', he said to the human companions. 'Are you relatively alright?'

'Yeah', Zhalia commented wryly, wriggling in her place and trying to turn over her stiffened legs. 'I said 'yeah!', she growled when one of the rescuers caught her by her shoulders to help her stand. 'What was unclear in that sentence?!', she added angrily, jumping onto her feet and piercing the man with her sharp glare, which caused him to back abruptly with his palms turned outside in a defending manner.

'She's got a tough day', Dante whispered apologetically when the guy stopped beside him. 'Just… be patient, OK?'

The man didn't seem convinced, yet murmured in agreement for his own safety. As Zhalia resembled a furious wildcat which could only be restrained by an experienced tamer, it was better to listen to someone used to her fads and quirks.

'This way', one of his co-workers casted a shaft of light into the depths of the corridor. 'You'll be able to loosen your nerves soon.'

The same day, 18:17

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

'We're on the run-up', the rescuer informed them.

Good thing walking through the destroyed cairn turned out to be a snap with a proper guidance of Huntik rescue team, their orientation and specialized equipment, because Dante achingly looked forward to the departure from the tomb. He couldn't wait to clear his airways of its mustiness, which seemed to fill his lungs like tangles of dust, impossible to cough nor spit. His head also felt as if his brain cells had switched places or got tied in a random manner. He expected the first gust on the surface to clear him off that filth in the literal and metaphorical way, so when he felt it on his face, he raised his head to the slowly setting sun and…

'DANTE!'

Well, there wasn't anything miraculous in gasping in the middle of a deep breath and wheezing when something bumped right into the place when the bruise spread. Instead of refreshment and relief, the emergence greeted him with a sudden explosion of pain in his abdomen. The orange flash bloomed before his eyes and covered his view; he blinked, trying to regain his normal sight, however, the temporary colorful blindness was quickly proven to be not a sign of strain, just a mass of fiery hair.

'You've made it out alive!', Scarlet shouted, hugging him so tight that boa constrictor could be jealous of her skills. Even Missy the retriever had been far more gentle. 'I knew you would, but, heaven, I was so scared!'

Dante saw stars and planets starting to circle on the background of her curls when her skinny, bony arms felt like a barbed wire against his irritated skin. He clenched his teeth, though a painful hiss escaped his mouth nevertheless, loud enough for a deaf one to hear it. However, Scarlet hadn't. Even the warnings of the nurse following her and collecting the patchwork blanket from the grass, when it lied abandoned after slipping from Byrne's shoulder, didn't keep the red-head from crushing Dante's ribs. Before he managed to gently free himself from the grasp, someone gave out a loud snarl behind his back.

'Oh man', Zhalia commented in a not so quiet whisper, as if she intended everyone to hear it. 'Even the dog drooling onto his face didn't look so gross…'

She nudged few Foundation rescue team members and ended Dante's suffering, pulling Scarlet away bluffly, similarly to the way the rescue worker perched Missy in place before. Although, surprisingly, the previous act didn't look as harshly.

'Give him a break', Zhalia's disgusted voice perfectly fitted her grimace. 'His belly resembles minced meat, those caresses won't help him recover.'

Vale just massaged his chest to prove those words right. However, Scarlet didn't pay attention to him anymore. She plastered her eyes to Zhalia as if she had resembled one of the original inhabitants of the tomb who had just gotten resurrected. The operative Moon shifted the weight from foot to foot nervously, uneasy with that stare.

'What?', she barked, quickly taking her hand off. 'Don't goggle your eyes like that, I haven't gotten a fake suntan. It's just a grime spread by some nasty explos…'

'Zhalia', Scarlet's eyes got teary all of the sudden, 'I'm so glad… Dante saved you!'

She dashed forward with her arms wide open. Zhalia, seeing it, backed abruptly with her face contorted in a distasted wince and eyes widened in shock; however, she couldn't escape from Scarlet's grip. The red-head caught her regardless of her escape and pulled her closer, almost crushing her in that grasp.

'I'm sorry', she sobbed right into the stiffened Moon's upper sleeve, 'I just didn't think… that Dante would find you alive…'

'Oh, thanks', Zhalia threw sarcastically, though the way she wriggled in the other girl's embrace gave out her embarrassment and discontent. 'That's just another reason I just couldn't give you satisfaction and end up as a stiff… Now get off me!'

Dante rushed to her aid to pay back for the help he had received, but she finally found a way out on her own. Probably only Vale, who came the most closely, noticed how she pinched Byrne's side so strongly that the gingy squeaked and twitched, loosening her bindings. Zhalia took advantage on that and stood in a safe distance. Her puzzlement was so ridiculous that Dante had to hold back a strangled chuckle, but some of the rescuers didn't manage and burst into laughter; the middle-aged rescue team leader, heavily resembling a badger due to his salt-and-pepper hair (called Doyle, Donegal or something like that; Dante didn't catch it clearly from the talks), was among them.

'That's what I like the most about this job', he guffawed, 'the reunions.'

However, he quickly became a new victim of the overall hilarity as he goggled his eyes in shock when Scarlet kissed him twice at each cheek.

'Thank you, Mr. O'Donnell', she said heartily (thus clearing the doubts about the leader's personal details), 'thank you all', she added, looking at the rest of the team. They stared at her hopefully, waiting for more material signs of her gratefulness, which she willingly distributed, much to Zhalia's disgust. However, Byrne's behavior reminded Dante of the endeavor put by the Irish Foundation members to get them out of the trouble.

'Oh yes, we're very grateful for your quick arrival and help', he lowered his head in respect.

'It's not us you should be thankful for', O'Donnell corrected, smoothing his thick, shaggy moustache contently as he observed Scarlet approaching the expectant crowd. 'That gutsy lass was so determined to see you again that she set up the whole Sligo compound.'

Dante omitted to mention what effort was needed to find Scarlet's courage. As always, Zhalia didn't have such a problem with expressing her discredit by a loud, doubtful sneer. It took some time for her to understand what she had been told exactly. For few moments, she edgily smartened her outfit (checking with distaste the wet spots left on her sleeve by Scarlet's tears) and blew a strand off her forehead, throwing around sharp glares, as if she had wanted to pierce anyone who had seen her in such an awkward situation as hugging the disliked red-head. However, she suddenly forgot about being hateful after the meaning reached her. She straightened up and froze with her eyes stuck above Dante's shoulder, her brows twitched and knitted. Dante followed her stare and blinked few times, not sure if the view spreading before him was reality or just another mirage playing with his vision due to exhaustion and abrasions.

The whole hill was occupied by Foundation operatives. They gathered needed equipment from the cars parked on the road in the valley. The workers hefted large mechanisms uphill, panting from effort and sometimes stopping in the middle to wipe off the drops of sweat from their temples. Some cautiously carried small complex devices; though they didn't weigh as much and thus could be considered a piece of cake for many, they were also way more sensitive and dropping any could result in completely breaking it. However, most of them reached a small intelligence point created in the centre by few operatives who, all and sundry, wore long white smocks, as if they had been just taken away from the laboratory and hadn't had time to change. They could be easily mistaken with the health care assistants, also dressed in white and bustling around a quickly arranged medical spot. All the camp looked like a miniature of a professional research base which had risen from the depths of the ground or fallen from the sky at one snap of fingers.

'Holy shit', Zhalia couldn't hide her amazement or reveal it in more proper words. 'She really gave it some stick, alright…'

'Sure thing she did', the chef rescuer said firmly, his moustache seemingly bushier from satisfaction. 'I thought a half of the connection management staff would drop dead from heart attack when she screamed to the receiver as if she was being skinned. You can only imagine our hurry when we heard that some… madman', Dante was sure the badger was going to use a more negatively marked word, but reminded himself of the ladies' presence (ignoring that one of them had just sworn like a sailor), 'blow the Heapstown Cairn away. With incidental bystanders still inside. And one of them was Dante Vale himself! How could we hesitate any longer?'

'Even if Scarlet was the prime mover, she wouldn't have done much without your support', he spoke quickly, a bit embarrassed about underlining his influence on the decision and not wanting anyone to point it out anymore. After all, not him had been the one in the deepest sh*t, he would have coped with the stalemate somehow, but Zhalia… No matter how adroit she was, all the circumstances had set against her, tying her hands. Freeing her had been their major goal… or at least he had thought so. 'Your professionalism saved my team. I really appreciate it', he bowed slightly.

'Don't mention it', the badger said, though seemed flattered. 'Protecting a life is always our top priority. And, at the same time, our greatest prize. Especially when the one we rescue is a living legend!', he burst into a loud laughter, wasting all Dante's effort to quickly move the topic to safer areas. 'Or pretty women…', he added meaningfully, peeking at Scarlet leaving pecks on every happily exposed cheek. 'Your friend really raised the morale in my team!'

Indeed, the rescuers apparently didn't mind that most of Byrne's face wasn't healed properly yet, admiring her remaining advantages nevertheless.

'If you want to pay us back yourself just as greatly, just sign some photos for our children and we'll be even', O'Donnell winked friendly. Dante hoped it was only a joke. Otherwise he would feel uneasy with all the glorification. The leader's later actions only proved that he didn't care as much for the gratification – he just turned around to his team, not carrying on the issue.

'Alright everybody, listen up!', he shouted to the boys, joining his hands on his back. 'Our main goal was achieved, but we're not done yet. Lynch, call Doc', he threw to one of his teammates who nodded and went off, carrying out his order. 'The rest of you, get ready', he said to the remaining teammates. 'We'll secure the area for the Crackers.'

Dante pricked his ears, curious who had earned such a codename. He intended to ask about that, but Zhalia went ahead of him.

'Isn't that too much?', she asked with apparent discontent, filling her lips. 'I know everyone wants to celebrate, but… hadn't we had enough of attractions for today even without the crackers?'

'Don't you worry', the man calmed her down. 'We really know our stuff. Better get some rest while we'll be handling things.'

'Am I supposed to sit and watch calmly how you endanger us all?!', she drawled edgily, placing both hands on her hips and slightly leaning forward, as if to accentuate her statement. 'Does your regulations allow you to play with the bangers next to a minefield?!'

No one even show any intentions to respond to her question. The leader just chuckled, ignoring her demanding stare, as if he thought the matter was too obvious to explain. He saluted and cleared off, joining his team. The rescuers didn't waste their time; in a blink of an eye, they brought metal barriers and started to place them around the entrance; the posts got joined with rolls of yellow caution tape. The team seemed very in synch; no one got tangled in the belts, no one tripped over the warning tubes, meanwhile, they found time and willingness to exchange casual jokes and small talks. Their snorts of quiet laughter filled the air every minute. Though they seemed to do their best to keep straight faces due to the seriousness of the case they were working on, it was obvious that the assault hadn't given them a very significant pip. There was no doubt that raising the spirits and loosening the tight atmosphere was mostly Scarlet's merit. Zhalia just wrinkled her nose in disdain, observing them, her eyes turned into cat-like slits. Dante had been exposed to such faces too often not to recognize what that look meant. Right now, she was most possibly furious about treating her like a burden or a silly, oversensitive chick. His suspicions only got proved when she snarled loudly and shook her head. She opened her mouth, about to make a cutting remark, but she was interrupted by a soft, female voice:

'Mr. O'Donnell is right, it's a time for you to have a break. As you remarked, your injuries need to be treated. Please, come in. We'll take care of you properly.'

The nurse, watching the scene for a while and waiting for a proper moment to enter the stage, raised the curtain covering the medical tent's entrance, inviting them inside with a kind gesture. However, any of them didn't seem eager to do so.

'Are those morons serious?', Zhalia ignored the nurse ostentatiously, still keeping a careful eye on O'Donnell's subordinates. 'I mean, just look at them', she uttered angrily, shaking her head and making her ruffled hair dance around her cheeks. 'They act as if they were organizing a picnic and going to watch fireworks.'

'There might be as many sparks', a strange, serious voice spoke behind Dante's back, 'but let's hope the action won't be more dangerous than that.'

Suddenly, they got surrounded by a group in dark overalls. When compared to the rescue team, the emergency workers looked like Bob the Builder's clones or road menders in their yellow hard hats and fluorescent vests. The newcomers' outfits connoted rather a Delta team: skin-tight, black fatigues with protective pads sewn on most strategic body parts, fingerless gloves, shiny helmets like skidlids and long boots laced-up to their knees, clumping so loudly that it was shocking that any of them hadn't paid attention to all the noise sooner; seemed like the omnipresent ado was the only factor to blame.

One of the newcomers stuck out from the crowd due to his lack of specialized uniform. It looked like he had just left some kind of office - in dark trousers, gray jacket and watery blue shirt the guy could even stand for a businessman or a manager. The helmet stuffed under his arm neglectfully seemed to cumber him only. The man was quite tall, slim and fit, though didn't stand exactly for a sportsman type. His clean shave underlined his smoothly curved chin and rather sophisticated, elongated features with a long, straight nose. He might be in his late twenties or early thirties; it was hard to determine due to his short, combed-back hair which looked grayish and added him some years. Dante hadn't seen such a strange color often, especially on rather young people. Completed by his rectangular rimless glasses with wide temple arms, his image could be described as a 'refined nerd'. The nurse didn't seem pleased to see him, observing him with crossed arms, but it couldn't be due to his looks; overall the man probably could be considered attractive, given that Scarlet quickly regained her control despite her shaky state. She twitched as if she had been pinched again (Dante furtively checked if Zhalia was keeping her hands off; she was). Then she rubbed her face and automatically frizzed her ruffled curls a bit, following her natural instinct. It could appear as if the guy caught Scarlet's bait, as he hurried to them, however, he passed by Byrne and ignored her completely, instead approaching Dante. When he got closer, his hair turned out to be dirty blond, almost brownish, with a plain, somewhat dusty shade, as if they got sifted by daub.

'I'm glad to see you all safe and sound', the guy said sincerely, standing among them to have a good view on all the interlocutors. Scarlet tried to catch his stare, but her efforts went to waste. The newcomer didn't show any special interest towards her, he seemed more preoccupied with the injuries he saw on each survivor as he looked them up and down.

'I'm very sorry you had to go through all of this', he added apologetically, his lenses flashed shortly as he lowered his head for a moment in a quasi-bow. 'However', he underlined, straightening up firmly, 'we would be more than honored to lift that bargain off your shoulders for now. There's no need to bother; we are the ones called Crackers. It's our pet name among our colleagues. Officially, we are named SPARK…', he tapped at the small badge strapped to a lanyard hanging from his breast pocket.

'Which stands for?', Zhalia interrupted him bluntly; her crossed arms and raised brow clearly gave out her impatience with the dragging intro. Dante, however, took a closer look at the label. He had thought the emblem on the card showed the Huntik Foundation symbol: three lines, each topped with a dot and crossed by the others in two thirds of its length. However, two curved side bars were stylized as forked bolts and the central one got crowned with a six-pointed star; the name of the formation ran down the stripe.

'Specialized Power Activities Removal Commando', the identification tag owner explained the acronym and then, not giving them enough time to analyze the abbreviation's accuracy, he added diligently: 'Please, do not pay attention to the small dissidence of 'Commando' not exactly matching the 'K' initial'…'

Zhalia just rolled her eyes over such pedantry, as if she had wanted to say: 'Man, no one except of you does.'

'We're a highly specialized EOD team', the man continued, giving up on his meticulousness, 'undergoing a standard state training and a complex program exclusive for the Huntik Foundation…'

'Wait, wait, I got lost on the EOD part', Zhalia raised her hands in a defensive manner, overwhelmed by the news. 'What is that?'

'Explosive Ordnance Disposal', Dante was glad he didn't lack knowledge in that topic completely. 'Simply put, defusing bombs.'

'Yes, you can say it this way', the grayish-headed guy nodded and fixed his glasses which slightly slid down his nose, 'though it's not our only destination. Before eliminating a single explosive, we'd rather collect the data to analyze, find a method to counter it and reduce the threat in the future. Given the info I received, we will have a lot of work here…', he straightened up, looking at the destroyed cairn. Then he heaved a sigh. 'I wonder which kind of force turned our national pride into a pile of rubbish…'

'For your information, your 'national pride' could have become our grave', Zhalia snarled, 'so I'm not gonna mourn over that loss, a hill of stones standing uselessly in an empty field... I'd rather rejoice I wasn't torn apart as well', she finished spitefully.

'Ah, I didn't mean it', the man corrected himself rapidly, embarrassed of his previous comment. 'Of course your survival was the most important goal of ours. However, damaging such a valuable source of knowledge about our ancestors shot right through our sense of belonging and certainty of research. We hadn't thought anyone would be so bold to threaten our treasure, right under our nose, and it's hard to believe that a single man dealt with a monument of cultural inheritance which sustained centuries in relatively fine state…', he shook his head in shock.

'Well, good thing it withstood until now', she continued sarcastically. 'You had enough time to rave over it, but I haven't lived so long yet. Guess I'd have to in order to get just a half of your department's concern, given that you're interested in worn-out heritage symbols more than in your staff…'

'Please forgive Zhalia', Dante interrupted conciliatingly seeing how the SPARK chef twitched and winced, possibly offended by such accusations. Vale knew Moon's harsh attitude too well to mind her stone-heavy words, but for a new acquaintance, they could be kind of confusing and result in seeing her as a rude jerk. He didn't want the SPARK chef to have a bad impression of her and ignoring all the deeds she could be proud of. Her overreaction made Dante realize what a soft spot had gotten hit in her. Hell, he couldn't blame her for rudeness, a way to deal with her raging emotions, knowing all she'd been through today. 'Her nerves are in tatters and that's why she's saying many things without thinking.'

'Shut the hell up', she reprimanded him bluntly, suddenly losing interest in bombarding the SPARK man with her piercing stares and turning to him abruptly. 'I don't need a barrister, especially such a lame one! And, hell, I don't take anything back! I can say sanely again that my life is far more precious that a bucket of rocks!', her voice timbre was raising due to aggravation that had taken over her. She looked as if she had been about to explode herself.

'Really, Doc!', an amused yet hoarsing voice rang unclearly, as if it had been coming through a crammed gable vent and echoing in an air duct, 'you've finally found a woman suiting your tastes, a real explosive in a human-shaped shell!'

The SPARK member, called Doc, twitched and pursed his thin lips so hard that they resembled a hairbreadth line. He looked above his shoulder and just noticed that one of the black uniform men appeared by his side, wandering off the group. He couldn't be distinguished from the others, given that he had had the helmet on and the tinted transparent glass of his visor was impenetrable for a bare eye. It shocked Dante that the leader didn't have a problem to do so.

'Clear off, Brady', he spat shortly.

'Damn, you recognized me again', the Brady guy sighed (which, due to its raucous timbre, sounded as if Darth Vader had come from the Death Star to speak with the Earthmen), then reached to the straps keeping his helmet in place and unbuckled them. 'I can't have the element of surprise even with that outfit on.'

'It's all due to your lame jokes', Doc informed him with fatigue, raising his head to the sky, as if he was taking it for a witness how much he had to stand. 'You were supposed to prepare the area for my examination.'

'We're all rough and ready', the man answered, dealing with the last fastener. 'It's just you who keeps on chattering. I can quite understand that, as there is a lot of interesting personas, two of whom are beautiful women…', the helmet finally come off and revealed a wide smile which was kind of discernable in the male voice. The grin underlined a small dimple in the newcomer's cleft chin, covered in dark stubble as well as his whole prominent jaw, and showed a set of teeth which seemingly didn't know the damages of smoking nor drinking coffee. They were almost radiating on the background of the man's tanned complexion, contrasting also with his dark crew cut and brownish eyes. This coloration was a bit odd among Irish people, known for their fair skin, light-colored hair and pale irises. Such difference from other native individuals or descendants from Ireland puzzled even the world researchers, resulting in establishing a new phenotype called 'Black Irish'.

Surprisingly, young women also paid a special attention to that phenomenon. Scarlet didn't seem to have any biologist aspirations, however, she might have developed ones more willingly if every test subject had been a handsome guy. Even though she hadn't had a very pleasant day, she probably considered her current situation a paradise, given that attractive men kept mushrooming around her in a flash. Right now, she apparently couldn't believe in her luck. She focused on examining Brady's face attentively, as if she had been going to devour him. He noticed that and turned to her friendly. Before he managed to make a first step, Scarlet rushed to attack.

'Haven't we met before?', she asked curiously.

The man blinked, stuffing his helmet under his arm and knitting his eyebrows a bit.

'I'm not certain', he said hesitantly, taking a closer look at her and trying to see through the plasters on her cheeks. 'Your face does look familiar, but… I can't tell for sure…'

'Maybe I'm just mistaken', she brushed her locks onto her back. 'I could just imagine your face on the TV screen, 'cause you strongly resemble Ben Affleck…', she remarked in passing. 'Anyway, nice to meet you, I'm Scarlet Byrne', she said with a charming smile, as if she snapped back to usual self - still present and fine despite the recent hardships and external stains left by them.

The man's lips parted, then he burst into a satisfied laughter.

'I knew I had a good feeling!', he exclaimed with his eyes sparkling cheerfully, unburring his right glove. 'You were the Debutante Ball Queen of Colaiste na Sceilge in 2003, weren't you?'

'Yes, that's right', she admitted, content that he pointed out that detail and checking if everyone had heard that. 'How do you know?'

'I remember you receiving the award', he explained. 'It was during my debs, after all. You might not recall it, but I went to the same school, only two grades higher. Your partner Daniel O'Reilly was my classmate.'

'Oh really?', she fluttered her lashes, not even minding that the tears had washed the mascara off them completely. 'Did you vote for me?', she asked coquettishly.

'Not exactly', he confessed sincerely with a smile which wasn't really all that apologizing. 'However, it didn't matter in the end, right? You won nevertheless', he added seeing how Scarlet's face fell. 'Matthew Brady', he finally stuffed the glove into his pocket and quickly reached his hand out to move the topic to the safer zones.

'Oh… oh yeah!', Scarlet's eyes shone in sudden realization as she took his hand; she quickly forgot about the man's past crime of not acknowledging her astonishing beauty. 'Matthew Brady, the leading goalscorer of our school team!'

'Well, just until I broke my leg during the last soccer season in secondary', he admitted with a far-fetched lightness. 'Ah, nevermind', he waved his hand dismissively, thus breaking the shake. 'You probably weren't all that interested in sports back then… and it's been a long time ago. Many things have changed since then…', he remarked, staring at his badge thoughtfully. He fell silent for a moment, then carried on: 'I haven't expected us to meet in such circumstances. I didn't even know you joined the Foundation… and were a part of such a renowned team', he looked at her comrades, regaining his previous spirit. 'You must be Dante Vale, pleasure to meet you', he caught Dante's hand and shook it shortly, yet heartily, 'and you, Miss…', he addressed Zhalia, 'aren't you the bomb we're going to secure? From what I noticed before, you happen to have a very… detonative temper, if you let me get away with that pun', he winked teasingly.

No one learnt if Zhalia really showed her limited clemency for such a cheesy joke, as McKenna cleared his throat meaningfully.

'I hate to interrupt', Doc said, 'but I guess talking won't take us any closer to straightening things up here.'

'Yeah, let me guess, you haven't even introduced yourself properly, McKenna', Brady cracked reproachfully, 'just not to waste your breath.'

Doc cleared his throat again. Previously he didn't show any signs of having a hoarseness, so it was obvious that he just tried to hide his embarrassment.

'That's right, I forgot', he admitted reluctantly. 'Please, forgive me my absent-mindedness. Brendan McKenna', he reached his hand out to Zhalia who shook it hesitantly, caught off guard, murmuring her name. 'As you noticed, people tend to use my last name addressing me…'

'Only when they don't call you a tight-ass and four-eyes geek', Matthew added like a mischievous sprite when the doctor was greeting the new acquaintances.

McKenna flashed an angry look above his shoulder, then cleared his throat in embarrassment for the third time.

'Well, I wouldn't mind hearing any of those from a team of your successes and bravery', he said elegantly, though still seemed uneasy. Brady noticed that and nudged him lightly.

'In fact, it's usually me who calls him that…', he added to soften the previous sentence. 'We've been best friends since I became Huntik civil worker, so I sometimes forget I should be more respectful towards my recently appointed superior. Doctor McKenna is a nuclear physics expert and an explosive weapons fre… enthusiast', he corrected himself so quickly that maybe no one except Dante had heard his blunder. 'Last year he replaced the retired Professor Hayes as the head of the Huntik Foundation Irish laboratories. He's in charge of SPARK exclusively for this mission, as we thought we would need his skills and knowledge on the Seeker abilities.'

'That's right', McKenna admitted, loosening a bit and regaining his professional attitude. 'According to the data I received from the sensory and monitoring department, the power activity in the cairn passed the critical level. We need to check how it influenced the surroundings, particularly, if there aren't traces of this destructive energy left underground, waiting to be triggered.'

Dante nodded, approving of the plan. He didn't know much about that field of work, so he was glad that could entrust the operations to a more competent operative. So far, McKenna proved that he really knew his stuff and would do his best to handle it effectively. However, there was something else bothering Dante, something he should have asked about initially; the fact that he hadn't done so yet proved that maybe the nurse was right with her urge to check on his state. Unfortunately, before he voiced his thoughts, the medical worker herself joined the talk.

'Pardon me, doctor', she spoke politely, though she didn't especially try to cover a slight impatience for neglecting her presence for so long, 'but those three have just been rescued from a minefield and, as you see, suffered some major damages. Could you please finish the talk when all of them find themselves bandaged and treated properly?'

'Yeah, McKenna', Brady patted his colleague's shoulder. 'Let's move the chatter for later, alright? We've got something to do as well, the guys are waiting for us. And the trio barely keeps their feet. They need to get some healing.'

'I can wait', Dante said sternly, still rubbing his side to ease the tension occupying his flesh. 'If there's a necessity, then ladies go first.'

'No, I'm fine', Scarlet simpered, smoothing the plasters on the left side of her face; compared to her red hair, they looked like white spots on a toadstool. 'I'll be OK without a treatment a bit longer.'

'I don't need it as well', Zhalia mumbled, a bit offended by assuming her limitations. 'I'm perfectly fine, fresh like a daisy, dammit.'

The nurse peeked at her doubtfully, unerringly noticing every hole in her clothes, revealing the scratches, and bruises scattered here and there across her arms and cleavage. The medical worker pursed her lips tightly. She had to have an experience with stubborn patients, because she quickly dealt with each case in the most accurate way possible. She picked up the weakest-willed target and started to eliminate the troublemakers one by one.

'The gashes might leave scars if not dealt with quickly', she remarked pointedly.

'Oh no!', Scarlet touched her cheeks in horror and ran into the tent as if she had been catapulted.

Dante didn't even wait for his turn to be lured inside.

'Let's just go', he encouraged his teammate, much to the medical worker's acceptance. She probably had enough of rampaging patients. However, the real reason for Vale to be so obedient was much simpler than respect towards the health service. He just surrendered willingly to the natural order of matters to be dealt with, accepting that there were things impossible to overcome - he had nothing in his mouth since noon and every thought about anything just related to food caused his guts to twine. The remembrance of home-made sandwiches hidden in his backpack by the far-sighted Mrs. Lambert only doubled the hunger symptoms. His stomach quickly gave him away, rumbling loudly.

Zhalia just chuckled meanly, shaking her head. She wasn't the one driven easily by such cheap tricks. However, her angry puffs got dampened by her belly accompanying Dante's, creating a perfectly harmonious tune of grumbling guts. She looked at it in puzzlement, then winced and shrugged negligently.

'So what?', she commented haughtily the nurse's victorious stare and the peek Matthew directed to his friend meaningfully, barely hiding his amusement. 'It's all due to blabbering about crackers. Even a stone would get hungry, wouldn't it?'

'Of course', Dante murmured for peace and quiet, allowing her through. She threw her head up proudly and stepped forward. Vale didn't follow her at instant, which met with the nurse's chafe. He murmured 'One moment, please' and approached the subject he was the most interested in.

'What are you gonna do with the runaway?', he asked curiously before McKenna and Brady left.

The same day, 18:34

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

I stop in the doorway so abruptly that the nurse hits my back, surprised and clueless of my sudden decision.

'Miss Moon, what was tha…', she begins, regaining her balance and knitting her eyebrows strictly, but I hush her sharply, hissing like a cat and listening out to the following talk with my ears pricked. I just waited for that topic to come up, though I also feared that moment. I was dying d to ask that question, as everything in me urged to know if my efforts to let Ryder go didn't go to waste, but I didn't dare to out of simple fear that it would give away my unhealthy interest in the matters focusing on the culprit. I'm just not sure if I could play my role convincingly enough if they said they were hard on his heels. As a Huntik Foundation operative and the recent victim of his harassment, I would have to be satisfied, whereas… in reality, I would be far from that. However, it finally got spoken without my input, I can just gather knowledge from the shadows, without the necessity to force any fake feelings.

'You got to know about him and took the security measurements, didn't you?', Dante continues the talk, much to my content. However, each of us probably awaits completely opposite responses…

'We did', McKenna admitted, 'however, we can't do anything.'

I heave a sigh. Alright. They still didn't do much more than flow out their anthill. However, Dante doesn't seem as pleased with that, given his knitted eyebrows, accentuated by the dark dust settled on them.

'Are you gonna let the criminal escape?', his voice sharpens like a knife on the grindstone.

I hope so; unluckily, it doesn't seem possible, given all the big stink they made around the cairn's explosion. However, I'm not anxious that much yet; a bunch of bees usually hidden in their hive and dwelling in their work can't be very useful dealing with a master tracker, a talented spy and a born trickster. They would need a hornet to catch up and stop him.

'Don't worry', the doctor calms Dante down, seeing how he furrowed his brow. 'I just meant that it's not our, SPARK's, branch of work. We are here just to clear things up.'

Just as I said, huh. Little dung beetles making the balls of the shit and clearing the way without much noise. They can't be dangerous… unless…

'The pursuit department promised to send us an investigation specialist', McKenna adds. 'We're waiting for his arrival.'

O-Oh. I part my mouth, sucking the air in with a loud hiss. An investigation specialist?! Someone more competent than a bunch of frocks?! Things are getting rougher than I expected…

'Doctor!', the gopher O'Donnell had sent before, called Lynch, shouts, running to them and stopping halfway up the hill. 'The chasing squad will be there in fifteen minutes!'

'What?!', I exclaim, widening my eyes in shock. Fifteen minutes?! There's no way Ryder would get away from here in such a short time if he hasn't done it yet… and even if he did, he couldn't get too far on foot, even with all his powers as a support… and with a pursuit sniffing for him through the cairn, his chances lower to…

'Hey, where're you going?!', I shout, noticing how Dante storms down the hill.

'Excuse me!', he throws absent-mindedly, with his eyes focused on the valley, and thus, displeases the nurse, whose patient slipped away again, and me, of course. What does he think he's doing, throwing me to the medical staff all alone?!

'Wait for me, you moron!', I intend to follow him, but, much to my annoyance, the nurse is very determined to stymie my attempts.

'Miss Moon!', she perches me in place as I was one of the rescue staff dogs. 'Please, stay in the tent! You have just exhausted yourself greatly, your injuries have to be treated properly, it's not the best time for excessive exercises!'

'Leave me alone!', I shake her hands from my shoulders. 'The medical emergency is actually running away from you, better catch him instead of harassing me!'

'No one is trying to harass you', she assures me, though with a slight impatience in her voice, still barring my way. 'We are going to help you! Just please, let us continue our work without resistance!'

Any of us isn't going to surrender willingly, trying to force her ways, so the scuffle of arguments and stares intensifies every second. Just a moment and we will start a female wrestling match. In a puddle of jelly, much to the men's satisfaction. Bet they enjoy such attractions. Maybe that's not such a bad idea to keep Dante's mind off awkward questions while I'm not around to interrupt him in a right moment…

'Is there any problem?', the reinforcements arrive. Unluckily, not for me. Another white smock appears, willing to give his colleague a hand – not a significant one, though, minding his lanky build.

'Oh, yeah', the nurse admits with relief. 'Please, take Miss Moon to the women's wing and take good care of her. I'll go get Mr. Vale and treat his wound.'

'Of course', the man throws me a wide grin; he looks at me like a straggler which just spotted a hot dog cart. 'There's nothing to fear. We don't bite', he assures me, though his stare denies his words, as he still eyes me as if I was a very succulent sausage.

'No, but I…', I start, intending to say 'but I do if someone gets on my nerves', and then cut short, interrupted by a loud grumble. And then, thanks to the man's half-smirk, I realize that it comes from my guts. F*ck… I shouldn't have thought about hot dogs…

'Come on', he tries to hide his amusement, with minor effect, 'before you faint from starvation…', he finishes before bursts into a strangled guffaw, unable to hold it back anymore.

Stupid stomach.

Just when the most interesting part started, it had to remind us of its demands, in the most ridiculous way possible. Why did it betray me in such a moment again, if it learnt to keep quiet for the worse half of my childhood, despite being fed far less often?! It's all my organism's fault that it lets me down when I least need any cracks to achieve my goals. Like I can't even rely on my own body to actually do what I say and not go against me, turning my bold words into an ironic denial or enchantment of the real situation! Quite irritating, especially when it makes such a twist before the new acquaintances, even such an idiot like this male nurse. They must now see me as a stubborn chick who speaks bigger than she can actually do, kind of Sophie's type. Bullshit! If they only knew what I am capable of when the situation calls for it…! It would surely wipe that amused grin from the Affleck guy's lips and preserve the four-eyes doctor and the nurses to treat me like a naughty kid in their day care center. But, looking from a different angle… anyone can't discover my role in the spectacle, thus, maybe it's better if my apparent limitations serve as an efficient disguise. Keeping my real potential closed would push me away from the suspects' circle as the least feasible culprit. I'm quite familiar with hiding my true colors due to my occupation as a spy and inborn intuition, so it's no big deal, except for my stung pride. I wish I didn't have to make a fool of myself in front of everyone, especially Dante The Loaded For Bear. Unluckily, whether I like it or not, this is the easiest way to have things my way - he seems quite upset every time I express any sign of inconvenience, so, if I don't have any other ace in my sleeve, fainting seems like a considerable option to catch his attention and make him focus on my physiological problems more than on the matters where his curiosity could only be troublesome…

Oh yeah, if only I was trained in fainting on beck and call… and if Dante threw me at least a single stare instead of leaving me here like a luggage in the office and running away like a prancing pony! He wouldn't probably show much care if I suddenly collapse in a heap.

'Thanks for nothing, Vale!', I shout ironically before the nurse pulls me into the depths of the tent. I can't even be sure if he heard that, but just voicing it gives me a slight shade of satisfaction. Though I would never admit I desperately wanted him to stop, turn away and come back, and felt a slight yet unpleasant shiver running down my spine when he didn't. I suddenly remember the old proverb: Two heads are better than one. Even more so if they're detectives'. What Dante missed, the other guy can make up for… I gulp hardly, trying to invent any kind of plan to direct their interest towards less dangerous matters. Unluckily, my mind seems to be as empty as my belly… and I don't know any method to feed him right. And quick, 'cause the clock is ticking.

The same day, 18:36

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

Though Dante was aware of Zhalia's desperate attempts to join him, abnormally, he decided not to stand by her side. She was in good hands; he agreed with the medical staff that once she was lured to the health care spot, it was better to perch her in place, otherwise she would buzz around showing a dreadful unconcern for her well-being. He couldn't let that happen, not after all the time he had been so helpless in the matters concerning Moon's welfare. His condition was a different issue. He should have also put it as the priority, but he willingly made the choice to withstand his injuries a bit longer. First, he urged to have a moment to take a closer look at his senior.

However, all he could see was a row of black cars driving through the sandy paths on the horizon, one of them possibly carrying the subject of two friends talk. Dante estimated that they would reach their destination in approximately ten minutes, less than Lynch had predicted.

'F*ck', Brady hissed sharply. Dante turned his glare at him, a bit surprised by that reaction which he hadn't expected from the seemingly cheerful, good-humored Cracker. However, when he took a closer look at the guy, the first impression seemed to be only a mirage. The smile from the SPARK member's face vanished like erased with a rubber, his tightened, sharpened jaw line appeared able to pierce the skin like a dagger. Even the dimple in his chin lost its cheeky charm, turning into a chisel-made slit. 'Him? Here?! How the hell is that possible?!'

'Inspector Murray?', the doctor whispered, shocked as well as he stared at the dark cord of vehicles. 'How come?!'

'You tell me! Who is the mastermind here?!', Brady looked at his friend seriously, his milk chocolate eyes gelling into two coffee drops. 'But, damn it… That old rascal, from all the detectives available?! You can't be serious, McKenna!'

'I was as clueless as you', the doctor snarled at him. 'I thought he was moved to County Cork…'

'And he better stayed there', Brady commented, clenching his fists. 'You could count me out of this mission if I knew Murray would be around.'

'The situation is too taxing to add more troubles to our list, so please stop acting childish', McKenna reproached him. 'I'm used to your sulking in that one particular matter, but Mr. Vale', he peeked at the mentioned one suggestively, 'doesn't have to witness it. Better put yourself together before the inspector arrives.'

'Too late', Brady said gloomily, looking at the valley. 'He's almost here already.'

McKenna nervously fixed the glasses sliding down his nose.

'I have to greet him', he said, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. 'Excuse me', he nodded to Dante and rushed down the hill.

'I'm coming with you', Vale declared, not repulsed, but curious about the two friends' behavior.

However, before he made more than a step forward, Brady stopped him by pushing a hand against his shoulder.

'Don't be in such a hurry to the worst part of the evening', he advised him, keeping an eye contact.

'What do you mean?', he asked curiously, knitting his eyebrows. 'I thought we're over with that…'

'You'll see it yourself soon enough', Matthew said shortly, shaking his head with resignation, 'and, believe me, you will only regret it.'

'Brady', McKenna threw warningly, already on the move.

'Yeah, yeah', the man winced. 'Be talking to you later', he murmured to Dante and before Vale managed to respond, he followed the leader, putting his insect-head-like helmet back and leaving the Seeker stunned. He intended to follow them nevertheless, but he got perched in place by the nurse pulling him by the arm.

'You should leave the case to the Irish operatives, Mr. Vale', she pointed out gently. 'The only thing that should occupy your mind is your health. It's enough of guests and events for now', she judged. 'Please, come in at last.'

Dante hesitated, looking at the two friends disappearing as they came down the hill. Finally, he surrendered to the medical worker, accepting the asylum. However, his mind was far from a resting state as his detective acumen sensed a new riddle to solve.

The same day, 18:37

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

The tent doesn't look so big unless you stepped inside. The medical worker leads me through a small entanglement of corridors created by canvas dividers, thanks to which I feel like an albino rat participating in some kind of an intelligence test. I hope they will at least reward me with some cheese. A slice stuffed in a sizable burger would be just perfect… if only to silence my stomach. In the state of jumpiness I'm currently in, it seems impossible to enjoy any meal, no matter how alluring it would normally appear to my appetite. How long it was since I was forced to starve myself by anyone?! Damn that Ryder, honestly. He shouldn't worry about being caught by the Foundation. If he bumps into me, he'll face more solemn consequences. Doesn't he know that a hungry woman is an angry woman? Has he never watched Animal Planet programs about lionesses going great distances and crushing all the burdens to get their prey?! Let alone almost blowing me up and leaving me alone to cover all the stinky traces, he'd better prepare to pay the piper for ripping me of the homemade sandwiches.

Ah, what a luck I've been blessed with black humor. It always keeps me sane even in the direst situations and set the priorities in order.

Surprisingly to all, even myself, Ryder falls onto the second place. Of course I'm still annoyed that I cannot make sure he gets away from here kicking his bums in a hurry – that would spare me a lot of stink for later – but let's face reality, what else can I do for him? I've already strained my cover to the extreme, deciding to make a deal with him. It was only my damn luck that the cooperation worked to some extent and didn't cost me my life, either in the explosions or the aftermath. If Dante saw me smooching with my supposed kidnapper, I doubt I could play a shocked victim and blame it on the Stockholm syndrome… No more dangers to my Foundation seat and . Ryder is on his own from now. All I can give him is my blessing... genuine, as his capture would arise many unpleasant complications.

Yeah, about that too. Instead of cheering on his runaway, I should rather focus on taking a French leave from the stage of that Sherlock Holmes-like mystery this place's turned out to be. Sadly, the minor black characters from such novels couldn't stand a chance against the protagonists, living long enough for the case to be interesting – I guess two or three issues at most - and I don't consider myself a figure big enough to outrange that record. I should rather clear off before the spotlights falls on my head… however, turning my back at the problem without any input would arise slight suspicions, to call it gently, and bar my way towards the Foundation's well-secured secrets, let alone unzipping Dante's pants. I cannot lose their trust as long as I'm not over with my mission, so instead of buzzing back to the Lamberts', I should accept every order obediently and go with the flow. Sounds hard with my temper, but I'm ready to chasten my sharp tongue and rough manners if the situations calls for it. You know what happens when a trout turns against the current and jumps above the water surface? It gets eaten by grizzly bears. I'm not gonna share such a fate. I'll just wait for a river fork – like, the staff slowly losing interest in the inquiry and straggling through their usual work posts due to no results - to give them a slip without attracting unhealthy attention, simple as it is.

Unluckily, waiting for a chance drags a lot. Even my mentioned cynical demeanor doesn't always help win against the simple irritation I'm prone to, like now, when I'm wandering around the medical compartment. What did they pitch such a large tent for, seriously? To prevent the opposite sex patients to have a peek to the other section? Yeah, as if the banged up were really up to some soft porn… I have enough of such attractions on a daily basis, of course when I receive a willing specimen, and today I feel like I overdid it, thanks to a certain horny bastard. On the other hand, Dante isn't very up to such entertainment casually, to say nothing of the times when he's all shabby. It's not likely that he isn't interested at all, given his gender; you know a man is keen on sex if he just breathes… besides, we were on a date, weren't we? Screw it that I had to trigger it. I guess he just keeps his gentleman and professional cover on, instead of following his male instincts blindly. What a fricking stickler. If he was more eager, I'd be over with the mission about two weeks ago and didn't fall into such a stinky pit… He should at least show some residual decency for the trouble he causes and let me proceed with my goals finally. There are no signs of it, though, given that after the brawl with my ex, he wouldn't be in a mood to make out. Not that I dream of anything else than burying myself in the quilt this evening, without a company. Ryder's fault, again. (It's so easy when I can blame everything on him!)

However, one person always makes up for the rest of us when it comes to romance. When we reach our destination - the partition signed with a meaningful stick man in a triangle-shaped dress (seriously, that just proves clothes don't look good on hallstand-like figures, kheh), something flashes right at my eyes that I'm about to cover my eyes. When I take a closer look, I notice that above another nurse's shoulder, Scarlet sends here a wide grin, showing her pearly white shining teeth. Damn, does she paint them with an UV varnish? If she bares like that every freaking second, I'll knock them out at the earliest opportunity. But, what exactly makes her so happy? I doubt it's my astonishing presence; she never troubles to pretend any warmer feelings towards me, unless she's got an audience. A MALE audience, to be precise.

Oh… I forgot. I peek at the medical worker who led me here like a shepherd dog, watching if I don't give him a slip. Now I realize that the smile wasn't directed at me. But, seriously? I could understand her attraction to the Cracker guy – an annoying happy-go-lucky, but at least he doesn't have a whole gel factory in his hair… Yuk, I so hate guys who smear their fringes with any oils and glisten like a duck's butt. You can imagine I'm not really into the legendary Elvis Presley. I can't understand why guys think that styling their natural pelage into any kind of greasy swirls, spikes, cockscombs or whatsoever improves their masculinity and value in the women's eyes. We don't live in primitive tribes anymore! However, I don't think washing the mixtures out his hair would help this buster anyhow. He'd look as if he had just dropped from high school nevertheless, with that lanky body and teenage-like cockiness. And, please, those chicken years pimples he still couldn't get rid off make him look like a pizza with double seasoning! Even the doc guy would be a better aim! A wimpy nerd he might be, but he had some taste in clothes. And glasses, or rather the intelligence they represent, attract girls like a magnet, that's a fact.

I roll my eyes ostentatiously to show my scorn for Scarlet's penchants as she seems on cloud nine when the dandy reciprocates her grin. I hold a faint hope it will be a clear message and cut her flirting even if just for a moment. However, the only result is a gasp of horror from the dark-haired nurse treating Byrne.

'Oh my! You looks like you could faint any second!', she exclaims in horror, stopping to clear her patient's scratches and observing my face attentively, then throws to my guide chidingly: 'Payne, don't stand idly! Take care of her, it's not something I should lecture you about as the licensed medical worker, is it?!'

Now it's me who barely holds back a satisfied grin. Someone's just got scolded like a primary school bundle! The dandy's face falls for a second, covered by hesitance, but, just as if he came up with an idea, the smile returns in a flash.

'Of course', he says obediently. 'Am I supposed to do the whole job?', he adds innocently, blinking his puppy eyes.

'I guess you will manage on that level of apprenticeship', the nurse says patronizingly.

Oh, so the guy's a novice. I bet that he didn't really encounter the hardships of being a medic, though he probably considers slopping out and cleaning the patients' butts as ones. That explains pretty much… especially his confidence and carelessness. Someone who has seen people dying in puddles of their own blood or shitting their pants in pain doesn't act as if the whole action was just a summer picnic, unlike a frolicsome rabbit, wet behind the ears and inexperienced with any afflictions more serious than a runny nose or some warts. I hope he learnt as much as to be apt with peroxide and sticking plasters, though if he isn't, I for change don't need to pass any farcical, meaningless exam to use them properly.

Yeah, all that I would like right now is catching some band-aids plus antiseptics and clearing off to dress my injuries in solitude of my own hideout instead of a crowd of strange faces. Do you think that a wolf, especially a wounded one, feels safe being rescued by humans and kept in a preserve until it recovers? The concern its natural enemies show only make the animal more alert and ready to bite and flee when they decide to make another sudden turnabout. Leaving it on its own would save everyone a lot of stressful tension. That's how the world is made – the weak ones perish, only the strongest survive. Maybe I talk like that because I feel like a capable bitch right now, but when I'm surrounded by the watchful stares, carrying my plan of compliance on seems impossible to accomplish. I urge to away into the wild, no enforced guardians and their imposed care anymore. That pretty much explains my reaction when the male worker suddenly catches my elbow confidently; when I feel his fingers through my blouse, I quickly scrabble aside, throwing him a warning look.

'I'm not handicapped', I point out meaningfully, then add ironically: 'I don't need a walking cane.'

Making a cutting remark about his posture is as good as a wink to a blind horse… I have a feeling that even if I showered him with worst of names, he would just nod and say:

'Of course, Miss. As you wish.'

It doesn't get any better as we proceed with the preparations. The dandy follows me like a seeing eye dog when I approach a free seat and attempt to take it – all of my own, with no guide needed – waiting for the move from his side, as if we were playing chess. However, I have a feeling that if I don't kick him, he'll just stand here goggling his peepers at me, as I was a steak roasting on a barbecue. I clear my throat meaningfully. Maybe if he doesn't understand the communicate, his senior will notice my impatience and makes him get down to work. However, all I receive is silence.

'Shouldn't we proceed?', I suggest chillily as it drags, crossing my legs and arms. 'Or waiting till my wounds close on their own?'

The youngster just nods, not specifying which of my question it applies to. However, as he leans above me, I suppose he took my advice to finally move his butt instead of drooling over me like a plate of fresh fries.

'How did you got this?', I bristle when he touches my forehead. I'm about to reply sarcastically, something like: The way the other people receive theirs, or: Ask my parents how they made it, and give them my best f*cking regards if you manage to find them, however, the words stuck in my throat as I deal with the stranger's contact. The medic's fingertips feel like soft chalk against my skin; one could think of it as a pleasant impression, however, I felt more comfortable when Dante slid his sandpaper-like knuckles through it. Why exactly did he have the urge to do so? I can't recall it. I just can tell for sure both them and his lips trembled back then when he spoke, and he gazed as if I was brought back alive from the grave…

Oh, yeah… the bruise. That was the reason he seemed so concerned. I loosen a bit, automatically brushing my hair aside the nurse decides to examine it closely, though I don't really get if there's really so much to look at, let alone touching it. Just a purple stamp felt by a pebble, no bigger than a thumb print, I guess. Why guys treat it as if it was going to transform into a grenade and splash my skull open?

'Don't remember, a stone falling from the ceiling or a fall. To pre-empt your question', I say as the man clicks his tongue dubiously, 'I don't feel like my head was going to explode nor suffer any loss of memory. It doesn't even hurt… unless one touches it', I add pointedly, making him back his hand immediately.

'I heard many concussed patients say so before', the other nurse comments, not stopping to heal the gashes on Scarlet's face; they sink in a golden gleam radiating from the woman's palms. 'Luckily we don't trust every brave assurances, otherwise we would have already been jailed for non-fulfillment of occupational duties. Payne, I hope you learnt that lesson diligently.'

The man throws her an irritated look. Kheh, the pup has enough of lectures… no wonder. His colleague should know when to snap her mouth or shut it when no one asks her for advice. Now it's a bit too late for the aid I expected. However, I hope the dandy has a reason to be so confident – like, for example, being a young genius or just a diligent, teachable student – instead of just thinking how awesome he is. Time will tell. I just hope he won't drag it for too long.

'Alright, let's get it over with, if we have no choice', I remind him ostentatiously.

He makes a move that resembles either a bow or a twitch due to a pricked ankle, then kneels down to me and continues the viewing. He stares at the multiple holes in my clothes and the gashes that peek through them with fascination, as if he was the one starving. Quite a devoted student, huh. A newbie for sure. He'd better hurry, as I notice that most of my thoughts got focused on food and if we don't do something about it soon, I'll just chew on someone's hand. I guess I know why there are biscuits called 'ladyfingers'. Their creator must've been as desperate as me...

However, the first fingers I'll bite off don't belong to a lady – nor a gentleman, exactly, as I feel them on a very private part of my body. I'd gap my mouth if I wasn't too paralyzed to act when the spotted dandy breezily takes the edges of my blouse and attempts to take it off. I reflexly brush his hand aside with a quick smack.

'What do you think you're doing?', I drawl at him coldly, piercing him with my narrowed eyes. 'My forehead is above.'

'I know, Miss, but you've also got other injuries that need to be checked. I cannot proceed with your clothes on', he explains, a bit surprised with my reaction.

'I won't strip myself when everyone can just raise the tent wall and have a peek', I growl furiously.

'Miss Moon, please', the nurse says with exhaustion, as if she was a kindergarten teacher forced to work with hopeless cases. 'Faster you cooperate, shorter you will be exposed. We're all grown-ups here, so let's act like ones.'

It's not me who she should say such words to… I observe Payne askance as he hesitates what to do. To spare him some worries, I snarl and quickly take off my blouse, staying only in my tank top. It's better than letting him do so. However, if they insist on undressing more, I'm not going to be so submissive. I already feel like I was stripped naked due to Payne's greedy glare… how much I want to gouge those peepers out!

'Don't', I remind myself. 'Remember about your cover. It'd be ruined the second you explode. You have to grin and bear… just a little longer. It'll be over soon.'

I try to be unmoved and numb like a rock when Payne starts to examine the gashes, though the floppiness of his groomed hands which don't know work nor pain detests me as if a dead fish was skimming through my skin. I force my mind to wander somewhere far away from here, but suddenly, the mess in my head vanishes and I can't find any thought to stick myself to. Instead, it's just like I was only a tense, wiry body and nerves receiving impulses in double; due to that, the sensation of the guy's fingertips sliding down my chest and sticking through the ripped clothes drives me mad, even his breath, which I accuse of heaving significantly out of the sudden, jabs my ears like a dagger. I don't remember being in such good terms with him to let him take liberties with me! Did he expect to be allowed to paw me defiantly with a poor excuse of medical help?! I won't let anyone touch me like that, unless it's for my future's sake! I have enough of such advances and ploys every day, no one will ever add to my misery without paying first!

The surprise, wariness and fury blend like in a melting pot into one raging emotion, then got forged into a single arrow which didn't need a bow nor a string to be fired. Suddenly, the male medic gives out a strangled shout when an abrupt dart of energy prickle his hand like a pincer.

'Hands off, you prick', I drawl coldly in my head as the spell paralyzes the closest nerves and joints for a second long enough for me to kick him in the knee and send him onto the ground with a painful hiss; he barely acknowledges my input in the fall, as his body lost the balance on its own, his eyes squinted in twinge.

'Payne, for heaven's sake! What's gotten into you?', the dark-haired nurse exclaims, seeing her co-worker fall onto his butt for no specific reason; Scarlet sticks her neck from behind her back, alarmed, like a jack-in-the-box. From their point of view, noticing a small spark igniting on my index finger bordered with impossibility, thus blaming Payne for the mischief seemed to be par for a course.

The guy only blinks over and over, puzzled, looking at the reddish skin on his fingertips.

'I don't know… my hand suddenly…', he knits his eyebrows, clenching his knuckles few times. Then he shakes his head, regaining some spirit. 'No, it's fine already. I guess it was just a cramp… or something', he shrugs, getting up from the grass and sending Scarlet a reassuring smile. 'I'm fine, let's go back to work', he rubs his hands energetically, probably to warm them up and prevent the next twist.

Damn it. He's got some balls. Or doesn't have a brain. I thought he'd easily catch the relationship between me and the sudden spasm, and thus, rather put his tail between his legs and resign from coming to me closer than two meters, just in case I was a shamanic bringer of disasters who can not only disable his hands, but also make his cock wilt like an old root. That's what self-preservation advices… However, I guess it doesn't work for young cocky bastards. Especially when they're so eager to grope a chick.

'Is it OK for Mr. Payne to continue working?', Scarlet asks worriedly, addressing her carer. 'As you mentioned before, there are no accidental aches. They can be a sign of something serious going on…', she enumerates out of genuine concern.

I barely hold back a satisfied smirk, as if the solution descended to me from the linen ceiling. Byrne will do everything to make guys notice her and shower her with all their attention, no place for other women to be favored. Hard and funny to admit, but there are times when that ability can get useful… a little.

'I got it', the dark-haired nurse sighs with resignation under an inquiring stare. 'Move out, I'll take care of this when I'm done here', she addresses Payne, not taking her eyes off Scarlet's face and throwing above her shoulder: 'You better go organize the ladies some aliment.'

The dandy attempts to protest, but quickly gets reminded of his position by his superior with one sharp stare. He crooks in shame, probably chewing on all the curses that overflow his mouth. Disappointment is a bitter pill to swallow... especially by young roosters who ruffle their feathers and wish for an opportunity to prove their capability. Scarlet, who tries to exchange conniving glares with him – and apparently expects him to admire her remonstrance – blinks in surprise when he grind his teeth, turns around, ignoring her completely, and leaves the partition in a hurry. The puzzled redhead seeks explanation in both of us, but I just sit and fight with a small smile playing on my lips, with the folded stool under my butt suddenly feeling like a throne padded with satin cushions.

If eliminating the dangers one by one carries on as easily as it seems, soon there won't be anything to fear.

The same day, 19:03

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

Dante hissed with irritation when the nurse examined his abdomen; thought the woman was very careful with the contusion, every slightest touch was bringing pain for the patient nevertheless.

'No whining!', the nurse silenced him, but pulled her hand away mercifully. 'You're reaping what you sow. That's exactly what you get delaying the treatment.'

Dante could only agree with her whether he liked it or not. He knew that his injury's bad state was his own fault. He should have taken care of it right after he had emerged from the tomb. If he had done so, the bruise probably wouldn't look so terrible that the nurse's first words after he obediently took his clothes off his upper body had been: 'Good heavens!' The awful hematoma spread through his whole belly, resembling flames engulfing his skin voraciously, especially due to its coloration – dark red on the edges and deep purplish, almost bluish in the center, where the metal inset of the goon's military boot had hit. The other abrasions and scratches, dotted around the reddish contusion, looked like sparks showering from a firework, however, compared to the central wound, were a snap to deal with. Most of them disappeared as quickly as the nurse used the standard medical power – Everheal; however, her face suggested that getting rid of the bruise would take some more time.

'Was the conversation worth such a sacrifice?', the nurse shook her head, standing up. 'The only thing I could agree with during the whole talk was that you are not in a proper state to participate in the investigation. I can understand that finding the attacker is an urgent matter, but not more important that health, for heaven's sake!', Dante observed how she buzzed in the tent, looking for something inside many of the bags with the equipment, scattered on the folding stools, and scolded in the meantime: 'You haven't escaped the death to beg for it with your behavior again… Oh my, where is that medicine?!', she murmured to herself with discontent, either dissatisfied with her own forgetfulness, the others' slovenliness or the natural perversity of inanimate objects.

'Yet I'm not supposed to lie down just now', Dante remarked gloomily as his stared at his hands, uneasy with his idleness. 'I should help the others.'

'Don't worry', the medical worker calmed him down, still searching through the medical kits. 'I can assure you it's not the first time the Sligo compound deals with such a case. It's true that most of us prefer to stay outside the field, but we're ready to face the extremes if necessary. Every task is in the right hands, so you can relax. As long as doctor McKenna is supervising the actions, there's no chance to fail', she added with conviction.

It was probably meant to placate Dante, however, he wasn't all that convinced, not after witnessing the two friends' hectic talk. If the roles were assigned properly, then why had Brady questioned choosing inspector Murray as the investigation supervisor? Why both of them were so nervous about that decision? And why had they tried to hide their anxiety from Dante? Well, the last mystery wasn't probably all that difficult to solve - they probably didn't want to show their weaknesses to the Huntik Foundation so-called celebrity, very close to the upper class of the company and influential on their society… As if the first Dante would do was complaining at the people who had saved his whole team! What a pity most of his Foundation co-workers exchanged info and spread rumors about him, focusing on his battle abilities and collected, down-to-earth demeanor, but rarely bothered to remark that he was no stranger to gratefulness, as if being a pro was inseparably bound with the lack of fundamental manners and doomed the individual to maintain a selfish, haughty attitude. And some of the most enthusiastic gossipers dared to say they knew him well!

Though he didn't take a liking in prattlers usually spoiling his reputation due to their negligent campaigning, sometimes their penchant to scoop came in handy – who would be better in providing useful hints than born meddlers? Of course their indication had to be winnowed through a very dense sieve, however, there was always a grain of truth in the gossips, even if only a tiny one and rarely of any value. It just so happens that some of the busybodies administrated the Foundation database… He regretted that his holotome stayed out of his reach; if he had had it nearby, he would check the records and get to know Murray better on his own, without consulting anyone directly. As it was forbidden for now, he tried to find another way of satisfying his curiosity.

'Sister', he said to her back. 'Do you know inspector Murray?'

The woman peeked at him, blinking in surprise.

'Why is it troubling you now?', she asked, but quickly lost the interest, finally reaching her target. She drew out a small jar and read the label, putting it close to her eyes.

'Just asking', he shrugged, not revealing his direct purpose. 'I don't know much of the Sligo staff and I would certainly like to.'

The nurse wondered for a moment, staring pensively at the light fabric walls.

'Well, inspector Murray isn't exactly a part of our facility', she said slowly, 'so I only heard about him… People usually praise his deeds', she recalled. 'They say he has never let any culprit run away further than fifteen miles from the crime scene.'

Dante nodded, though urban legends weren't exactly what he wanted to hear. If the inspector was such a praiseworthy officer, why his arrival had aroused so much tension? He still stared at the nurse expectantly and she finally noticed it, approaching him and putting the ointment next to his hip. She was silent for a moment, rummaging through the hoard of her mind and preparing the treatment meanwhile.

'He is also very strict and hates bungling', she continued, sinking her fingers into the transparent salve, then placed them against the bruise. Dante exhaled with relief when she started to smear the sticky and pleasantly chill unguent, cooling his angry-looking wound. 'He usually works only with his special squad of chasers and has a hard time cooperating with the people he didn't choose himself. Reportedly, he was once a part of the Dublin Compound forces, but moved to another base due to his conflict with its head. But that's only gossips', she shrugged, adding the finishing move and then wiping her hands off in a pearly-white towel. 'One can never believe in them. Besides, his successes are the only thing that really matters, right?'

'I… think so', Dante said slowly, reluctantly, not sure if he really did.

The loud groan of pain escaping his mouth kept him from another comments and dwelling about the grabbed thread of the riddle. He lowered his head, his muscles tensed, a drop of sweat slid down his forehead and fell onto his abdomen; strange thing it didn't vaporize right away, as now his injury was burning just like a real flame, additionally brightened by a golden gleam emitted from the nurse's hands.

'I'm sorry', she said earnestly. 'The ointment was supposed to help the healing energy come through your skin and reach the damaged cells. It has to hurt a bit.'

Dante nodded, clenching his teeth as the pain intensified. He hadn't thought that the Organization goon's kick would leave such a serious injury, even if he had felt like throwing his insides out right after that. He realized that if there had been any of his teammates in his place, such a blow would have broken her ribs like twigs. He hoped Zhalia, even during her attempts to flee, hadn't been exposed to such hits. He couldn't check it himself, as they had gotten separated – she had been taken to the other part of the tent, probably due to the necessity to cure the gashes scattered across her body, also those under her blouse and trousers. Hell, such a vacuity! Just a peek at a topless woman would be quite a capable painkiller… Focusing on the nurse's cleavage didn't bring just as much relief, given the torment she was inflicting. Damn, how could other guys fantasize about any medical service member?! Vale didn't downgrade their profession, as he had exploited it many times, but he was far from raving over anyone giving injections, fumbling in guts or slopping out the patients' chamberpots.

Luckily, the tortures were slowly coming to an end as bruise started to shrink, just like a flame diminishing when turning off the stove. It was just as bluish, then changed to a shallow color, so much alike burnt butter, soaking into his flesh like into an absorptive sponge. Soon, there was just a small spot which quickly got swallowed as if his navel had been a plughole sucking a tiny spider in. When the nurse backed her hands, the skin was as good and intact as new, the only visible sign of the recent injury being the lucid trail of the ointment.

'Done', the medical worker estimated, wiping a light strand from her forehead; her temples were wet from sweat, indicating the healing had taken more of her than it seemed. 'I guess the external damage was defused. However, as the cells are still rebuilding, this part may be a bit sensitive for a while. You can put your clothes back on, but please stay lying down and abstain from moving for an hour. It'll pass faster and more effectively if you take a nap. I'll make sure no one bothers you.'

Dante must've admitted that though nurses didn't draw him as sexual objects, he really owed them a lot of respect for like a dozen times of taking care of him, additionally, straining their own life force. Thus, he decided to cooperate willingly and pay this one off at least that way.

'Thank you a lot', Dante said gratefully, calling a faint, motherly smile onto her lips. She hushed him immediately, apparently inhibited about his words, and then looked at him expectantly, which reminded him that he had promised himself to be obedient and follow the medical rules.

However, before he settled himself on the bedding comfortably and prepared for an hour of recovery, someone stormed through the curtain separating them from the rest of the tent and crossed the partition like a Road Runner.

'Payne?', Dante admired the nurse's eyesight; for him, it was impossible to distinguish the intruder. However, maybe there wasn't any special skill in that and he'd recognize him as well if he had been more familiar with the Irish staff.

'What's up?', the woman continued, standing up. 'Where are you going?'

The tall young man, relatively good-looking despite the reddish spots left by the teenage acne and overdoing the hair styling, stopped with his hand parting the entrance drape, apparently reluctant of wasting his time for chatters.

'To find some food for our honored guests', he answered in a bark, speaking the last words mockingly, probably not noticing the sister's brows twitching disapprovingly. He intended to continue on his so-called quest in haste, but then recalled something and threw above his shoulder neglectfully: 'Ah, yeah, if you don't have anything better to do, go help Higgins. She's got two at once.'

'I've got a patient myself', the nurse answered, peeking at Dante, but the man didn't seem to pay attention anymore. The curtain went up, then fell back onto its place as the man dashed through it onto the green meadows, each reddened at the end by splashes of the sunset light.

The nurse exchanged stares with Dante, puzzled and a bit out of track, as if she had been asking him for explanation, advice… or permission.

'I guess your colleagues may really need a hand', he said encouragingly.

'There's no way I would leave you here all alone', she refused, shaking her head, though still seemed undecided and preoccupied. 'You may not realize it, but the treatment really requires a lot from your body and there'll be a moment when you might get dizzy, strained or even suffer some streaks. It's too dangerous not to have company and medical help in such states… and I cannot force you to walk with me either.'

'If I notice any signs you mentioned, I'll call you at instant', he promised, then added suggestively: 'Besides… I'd feel a lot better if I knew that my teammates are in safe custody. With you around, I could rest assured that they are paid a special attention to', he weaved in a slight praise.

The woman still hesitated a lot, but Dante didn't give her a break.

'Additionally, I have something that might come in handy', he carried on, carving his way to success further. 'Pity I didn't manage to say so and spare your colleague a lot of trouble… There are four sandwiches in the front pocket of my backpack. They might be a bit squashed, but still good enough to soothe a starving stomach, unless the reinforcements arrive… However, I cannot deliver them myself, and waiting for your co-worker might take a while, in spite of the girls. You heard Zhalia's stomach rumbling, didn't you? She'll wake up the dead from the cairn soon, if the explosions hadn't yet', he joked, aiming at her weakest spot – care for the patients – and thus breaking her defenses.

The nurse sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head, as if she couldn't have believed she had let herself be beaten so easily.

'You've got some cogency…', she admitted with admiration, though. 'Fine. If you're able to produce such a logical argument, I guess your state isn't critical and you'll handle few minutes of solitude…'

Vale nodded seriously to convince her to her own words. He read from her face how much it cost her to make such a deal.

'However', the woman raised her voice a bit, nonverbally asking for his permission to open his backpack. He responded her with a polite, inviting gesture and she approached the luggage, opening the right pocket and searching for the goods. 'The prescriptions I told you about are still valid. If you just listen to them, I'm sure there won't be any complications… Don't think about breaking them just because I won't be around for a moment. I'll come check on you soon', she informed him firmly, which sounded like a kind of warning, as she was drawing out the sandwiches he had mentioned.

'I'm looking forward to this', he answered honestly, minding that with her return, there would also be new info about Zhalia and Scarlet. He had enough of wondering on his own if Byrne's shakiness had already stopped or if Moon's encounter with the goon had resulted in anything more than few light scratches and non-dangerous bruises.

The woman gave him a stare that would have been amused, if not her no-nonsense demeanor, and raised the linen door with her free hand.

'Sister', he stopped her before she left, feeling that he owed her something in return for her altruism. 'I'm really sorry I demand a lot from you.'

'Please don't', she responded soothingly, lowering her arm a bit. 'Helping those in need is my job… and vocation, luckily. Moreover, you're not an egoist who requests convenience for himself', she remarked with approval, then assured him calmly and somewhat softly, motherly: 'We will take good care of your teammates. Please, relax from now and don't let anything trouble you for a while.'

Dante smiled back, his heart a bit lighter than before. As she left, he dressed up as energetically as the wound let him, covering the injury with the sweater feeling rather rough against it. To make up for all the bothering, he straightened his back on the camp bed and intended to follow the nurse's orders.

The same day, 19:10

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

'Ouuuch! Sh*t!', I hiss piercingly and recoil rapidly as my arm burns in pulsating pain, getting away from the nurse's reach and bundling to cover as much of my body as possible, automatically barring the way to all the angry-looking parts of it not to let them be attacked again.

'Miss Moon, please!', the woman finally loses patience, freezing with her hands in front of her, the golden energy slowly burning out from her fingertips. 'That's the third time already! We won't go any further with the healing if you keep acting this way!'

I wouldn't if you weren't such a savage cow!, I only think as I cannot choke it out my pursed lips. A healing, big deal! I'd rather wait till the gashes heal over on their own… I thought the basic curing spells are supposed to decrease the suffering, not inflict it all at once instead of spreading it for days or weeks! It resembles cutting the flesh open and sewing it back with a blunt knife. Seriously, I'm not a slice of meat in a butcher's!

The medical worker heaves a sigh above me.

'It hurts so much because you're tensing you muscles', she remarks, observing me patronizingly. 'Just like a child before an injection…'

Say thanks to your buddy Payne! He is the one to blame for setting me against the treatment so badly! Maybe I would commit to the process if I didn't get treated like a centerfold girl a random guy can have hots for! I guess even the photo models don't have anything against their pictures turning the guys on only unless the maniacs try to break the magazine/reality border by harassing them in reality, instead of pleasing themselves on their own above the posters…

Yeah, it probably sounds funny coming from my mouth, as I'm not exactly a person who should resent such actions, given the fact that my missions usually involve similar elements… it's like a whore tried to talk on maiden virtues. But even a whore could have her reasons to protest against it! Some of them enjoy that line of work, but the majority just don't have another choice and won't force themselves to do so without a relieving thought of the payment… or the sweet awareness that if they oppose, they would be slaughtered by the authorities. Guess which side I'm on.

The Professor would have objections if I rejected Dante, as he's one of the few Foundation members my chef considers a threat more major than a worm under his boot, but likes of Payne are not even worthy of being pissed on by him, let alone showing them any serious interest, no matter what happens to them. He would probably forgive me for disposing him, or even not notice it. He's too busy to pay attention to my movements step by step, waiting rather for the final result. It's Klaus who fusses over the measurements used more. I guess he'd scold me for not keeping my emotions at bay. Screw him. He's not a woman. He will never understand our hardships.

However, did you notice that men aren't really the worst problem for us? Other females cause way more troubles… maybe that's some him of a primitive rivalry dating back to the prehistory, when our ancestors tried to get the best mate. Sad it still continues on every field of life… It's enough just to look at me and the nurse. We exchange piercing stares, waiting for the other one to surrender, and any of us doesn't want to give up first.

'Maybe you should trust Sister Higgins more, Zhalia', Scarlet suggests tactfully. 'Look how nicely she closed my wounds!', she raises her hair and turns around, showing me her flawless porcelain skin. 'Not a single scratch!', she adds with satisfaction.

And who asked you for advice, huh?! Seriously, why is she even hanging above me, like a vulture above a carrion?! I wonder why the nurse didn't kick her out for looking at her hands so intrusively… I'll gladly relieve her of that duty! I guess it'll please them both, given that the medical worker insists so much on tormenting somebody and the redheaded masochist enjoyed it so much.

Before I manage to kill Scarlet with my stiletto-like glare and check if it can handle one murder more, the rescue arrives.

'Hi Eireen, Payne said you may need a hand here', a blonde chick in a nurse's uniform and cap, not more than twenty five years old, appears in the door, carrying a small package wrapped in a silver foil.

'Oh, yes', Sister Higgins admits with relief, turning to her colleague. 'I'm glad you came, Lauren. Maybe you can convince Miss Moon to commit to the treatment willingly.'

'Is there a problem with that?', the Lauren girl tilts her head a bit, observing me attentively. I suddenly realize that she's the one who came for us after the rescue. 'I guess I know the reason… and the solution', she raised the silver package higher. 'Homemade sandwiches should be the best medicine.'

Have I ever mentioned I'm an atheist? Slap me for that. Right when I understood what might be hidden behind the aluminum foil, I was ready to believe the angels really exist.

The same day, 19:15

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

No matter how much Dante tried to close his eyes and clear his mind, sleeping seemed impossible when thousands of questions kept rambling in his skull, reluctant to be pushed aside without answering to them first. After five minutes of staring at the linen ceiling, stiff like a pharoh's mummy, he got tired of his idleness and urged to do anything. Moreover, his guts also insisted on fulfilling their rights, reproached him for the sandwiches he had ripped off them in his comrades' merit. To forget about hunger, he should have kept his mind occupied, at least until Payne came back with the aid.

He looked at his backpack forgotten next to the entrance, reminding himself about the holotome hidden inside. What a shame he had forgotten to ask the nurse for it, too focused on providing a food delivery for the girls… He couldn't be sure that the device would catch the signal and allow him to browse the Huntik database as he had intended before, however, it was worth trying.

He raised on his elbow, then slid both legs onto the ground and sat up, leaning on the bedstead. He quickly regretted it as his body protested against such activities – his head rushed, his vision blurred and then darkened completely. When he regained his normal sight, he noticed that the entrance was shaded by a tall, dark figure.

'You shouldn't blacken your brows', the man commented, leaning on the tent frame. 'I know it's trendy, but doesn't suit you at all.'

'Very funny', Dante mechanically rubbed his face and examined his fingers to see if he had washed himself properly, wiping away all the dirt gathered in the tomb. Luckily, there wasn't even a speck of grime on his fingertips. That joke was surely in a certain person's taste…

'May I come in?', Brady asked, taking a step forward. Before Dante managed to say anything, he was already in, taking a seat at the free folding stool. He slumped onto it and leaned forward, letting his helmet slip away from his hands and land between his feet. Then he drew out a hanky and started to brush the sweat off his face, hair and neck.

'Man, those nutshells are a pain in the ass, you can't imagine', he sulked, hiding the kerchief back in the pocket and drawing a pack of cigarettes instead. 'Mind if I have a smoke?'

'I thought EOD workers aren't allowed to smoke', Dante remarked, a bit surprised that the Cracker's appearance tricked him by lacking any obvious signs of smoking back then, for example grayish teeth and yellowish stains on his fingers.

'Not at work, that's for sure', Brady gave out a short chuckle, stuffing the stog into his mouth and patting his pocket again, then the others as well. 'Damn', he mumbled, knitting his brows. 'I forgot the lighter. That's the problem when you're not exactly addict…'

He cut short when the end of his ciggy ignited suddenly. Brady took a squint at it, then at Dante, who lowered his hand, a small reddish spark fading away from between his knuckles.

'Comes in handy', Brady judged, catching the stog in half. 'Good thing to be a Seeker… sometimes…'

'You're not?', Dante guessed.

'Nope', the Cracker denied quickly, breathing the smoke in and closing his eyes in delight. 'Ah, that's way better…', he exhaled. 'You know, I don't do it casually, but right now I feel like chain-smoke', he explained his nicotine hunger, as if uneasy with his exposed craving before the new acquaintance.

'A hard day?', Dante started to feel like a table tennis star, directing fast, short serves.

'Uhm', Brady admitted unclearly, with his mouth plastered to the stog again and his expression smoothing slowly thanks to its relaxing influence. Apparently, his initial confusion over smoking had lost the match against the urgent tab appetite.

'Because of inspector Murray?', Dante took advantage on the moment and made the deciding shot. If he had been cut off the Foundation data, he had to count on other info sources. 'I noticed how you and doctor McKenna reacted hearing about his arrival.'

That move was more like hitting a bull's-eye. Brady's face tightened again; his lids came up abruptly, the cigarette almost falling from his hands before he caught it adroitly between his middle and ring finger.

'Crap', he murmured, rolling the stog between his knuckles before it fell onto the right place and still keeping his eye on the Seeker. 'I thought I wouldn't be the one investigated today…'

'You were the one insisting on the talk', Dante reminded him strictly. 'If you are not eager anymore, then why did you come at all? I don't mind a chatter, but it won't make me forget about your strange behavior.'

'A down-to-earth guy you are', Brady smirked approvingly. 'Fine, that will probably make many things easier. I wanted to warn you', he got straight to the point, leaning forward and continuing in a conspiratorial whisper: 'Keep away from Murray.'

Dante couldn't say he was exactly surprised. He had expected something like this. After all, he wasn't a halfwit, he could associate the basic facts. Brady's antipathy towards the officer was just obvious for a private eye with a six years experience and a Seeker used to solving more complex mysteries than animosities between colleagues. However, Vale was interested how the Cracker would justify them.

He had to wait for it. For a moment, Brady just stared at the cloud of smoke he created above their heads. He kept silent until the grayish trail didn't fade away.

'If you think', he spoke finally, 'that the Organization bruiser was the worst kind of guy you've ever met, you're terribly wrong. It may sound crazy… Who could be worse than a crackpot who didn't hesitate to blow the f*ck out of the whole cairn? Well, there's a certain sort of people who surpass him by all means. When shit happens, they're there in a blink, like flies, and Murray is certainly one of them, he likes stinky cases', he chuckled, but the laughter quickly turned into a long cough. 'Damn it…', he hoarsed. 'See, I can't even mention his name not to choke… That's why I usually call him a dungball', he joked.

Dante didn't respond with a laughter. Brady noticed his stillness and his expression faded as well.

'You don't believe me', he stated.

'That's not it', Dante said evasively, but truthfully. It wasn't that he doubted Brady's sincerity, he just couldn't have the certainty that the EOD worker wasn't exaggerating casual things to suit his story. From what Dante had noticed, Brady wasn't exactly a hard-working, dedicated type. Otherwise he wouldn't be there chattering and having a smoke, but out there with his colleagues, breaking his back. Maybe inspector Murray, whom the nurse had described as very stern and industrious, was just another person to notice that and point it out to the lazy butt? Maybe the cocky youngster didn't like being lectured and now sought the way to get his little revenge?

'I just don't know why you are telling me that', Vale added, wanting to clear the doubts.

'Cause I know Murray better that I would like to', Brady answered willingly. 'I don't want him to screw anyone else's life, like he's doing with mine. He's an extremely biased person, you can't even imagine how far it goes. One wrong move and you're screwed. He would chew you up, swallow, digest and then, when he decides he's done with you, drop as a grogan and leave for the others to witness your misery.'

Dante nodded, though it was intended to prove his own suspicions right rather than agree with the Cracker. He had used too many heavy accusations without any examples to make Vale convinced that his words had been more than yelping of a resentful slob.

'Is that a part of your rivalry?', Vale asked him directly yet calmly, leaning on his knees and looking straight into his eyes. 'Setting me against him?'

'What?', Brady exclaimed, lowering his cigarette so abruptly that it fell onto the ground; this time he didn't even try to catch it, frozen on his seat.

'If you take me for a person', Dante drawled while the stog was smoldering on the soil, 'who settles his opinion without exchanging a single word with someone, you're terribly mistaken. As long as I don't have a reason to take any side, I'm not gonna participate in your conflict.'

Any muscle didn't move in Brady's face. It was still like a mask, which only doubled his resemblance to Ben Affleck… a waxy statue in Madame Tussaud's, specifically.

'As you prefer', he said chillily with a faint, ostentatious smirk. 'Such a pity my speech went to waste.'

'I'm sorry', Dante shook his head firmly; however, genuine remorse didn't sound in his words.

'You'll be for sure', Brady murmured, but it didn't sound exactly like a threat. Rather like a disappointment. 'It won't be only our conflict soon. You can bet on it. Just remember that I told you so.'

He stood up wearily, lifting the helmet and crushing the durry with his military boot as he headed to the exit, not paying attention to Dante anymore. However, before he made the step outside the tent, he had to back not to be ran over by a man in quite a hurry, who hadn't noticed the burden unless he bumped right into it. However, it turned out to be just the thing he tried to achieve.

'Here you are, Brady', McKenna sighed, facing his friend and fixing the glasses which tilted on their place. 'I've been looking for you. Better go back outside and just pretend to be busy. Don't give inspector Murray any new reasons to write another negative report to Professor Hayes.'

'Screw it', Brady shook his head resignedly. 'I've been slogging away at the security doing my best, now it's all settled, so I'm not gonna make a fool of myself just to look fine in no one's eyes. Murray wouldn't notice my dedication and turn the tables on me even if I tore my guts out. Maybe I should, just to convince some other stubborn superstars', he growled meaningfully, peeking at Dante haughtily.

'That would be the best you have done today, Brady!', he got interrupted exasperatedly.

The two friends turned around in sync abruptly, like ballet masters from 'The Swan Lake', though with quite an unfitting clothing and attitude, to face something that was hidden from Dante's eyes by their backs.

'Inspector Murray, sir!', McKenna exclaimed as he and Brady backed, giving the way to the three newcomers entering the tent.

The same day, 19:31

Medical tent – women's partition

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

I guess I should think my faith – or rather the lack of one - over. There are events that I could regard as mysteries. What is the other way to call the fact that after I filled my stomach, the world looks like a fairly better place?

'I see a snack can do wonders', Sister Lauren smiles as if she heard my thoughts, leaning over a reddish chafe on my back and cleaning it gently with a cotton pad soaked in peroxide, content that I have maintained a calm demeanor for so long.

I hum agreeably, chewing quite a bite of bread, salad, ham and tomato which helps me keep to myself that my better mood is half the nurse's merit. Finally a worker that really knows her stuff! She even proves that the problem wasn't me, but the incompetency of some rough bloodthirsty harpy who now sits in the corner with her arms crossed and sulks so much from jealousy that her round, plump face resembles a pig more and more! If I bumped into her in the first place, it would have spared me a lot of nerves. What a shame.

'I can certainly feel Mrs. Lambert's charm in them!', Scarlet exclaims cheerfully, nibbling at her share. 'She's such a culinary magician, even with the simplest dishes!'

'What do you mean?', I raise my brows, stopping half during a bite and lowering the sandwich. 'There is no way those are the same bitties. I… lost mine in the tomb', I lie smoothly, not mentioning where they got lost. In Ryder's stomach. That was the only way to shut his mouth for a while… apart from kissing, of course. I regret not inventing that idea earlier. Not that I was so willing to smooch with him, but at least I wouldn't starve for so long. His big nozzle wouldn't have sniffed them at all, with his sense of smell completely ruined by cigarettes.

'Mr. Vale was so kind to share his provision with you', the nurse explains, sending a pleasant, warm shot of yellowish energy deep into the cut on my shoulder.

I can't help but smirk above the bread. Our chivalrous knight in a shiny armor… I can imagine that if we were buried in the snow and forced to cannibal our comrades, he'd volunteer to get eaten first. He's such a hopeless case.

'How is he?', Scarlet asks demandingly.

'The bruise took a lot out of him', the woman answers, pressing her hands to my shoulder blade. 'It was already highly irritated when I managed to bring Mr. Vale to the treatment.'

Despite the balmy sensation, I twitch a bit, freezing with a piece of the snack in my mouth as I realize I'm currently ripping a stretcher case off his food. No matter how hungry I am, it's not an honorable deed, given that I already owe him for pulling me through the cairn after the last detonation… Byrne also lowers her sandwich suddenly, apparently losing the appetite.

'However', the nurse continued, noticing our tension, 'it wasn't as black as it was painted. Mr. Vale exhibits a high level of physical resistance… and a lot of perseverance, which, though not a basic recovery factor, can sometimes speed up the process', she smiled. 'I hope he's taking a recuperative nap now.'

'What a relief', Scarlet sighs theatrically, closing her eyes to increase the impression.

And what's with those gloomy prologues? They almost forced me to abandon the meal, for no reason. Dante's sleeping like a baby, his wound got healed, no sweat then. Though I should have guessed it myself – if he felt just half as bad as we thought, I wouldn't see him dashing to meet the inspector before, like a jumpy grasshopper. Perseverance, huh? I'd rather say: a pathological altruism, disposing to abandon all common sense. Not that I sulk about it, though… The sandwiches are delicious. I bite a mouthful to make up for the moment of hesitation.

However, Scarlet still didn't regain her relish. She just holds the sandwich and stares at the cucumber sliding from between the slices of bread. She probably wonders how many calories she has just eaten…

'I… I think it is my fault', she mumbles, crushing the bitty in her fingers and letting the crumbs fall onto the grass.

Oh, so stings of remorse, rather.

'Really?', I raise my eyebrows, not stopping to wolf down the sandwich, screw my usual care to consume like a high-class lady in a company to fill my cool deportment. I'm too hungry to mind it. 'I have an eyesight good enough to distinguish you from a stocky bruiser… your hair are helpful like a torch. If it was you who kicked Dante, you'd have rather broken your leg than hurt him.'

Scarlet throws me a reproachful stare, but I cannot decide if that's due to my sarcastic tone, the remark about her hair and her lack of battle abilities or my cynical attitude in general.

'I'm serious', she murmurs, upset. 'I almost doomed us all to failure. I shouldn't have pressed Dante… and you… to accompany me. I… feel bad for dragging you two into this.'

'Better now that never', I sneer, still unmoved despite her waiting for my response doe-eyed. She still has some hopes for me to continue and soften my approach, but her face falls right after I chew on my sandwich again, ending the audience definitely.

If she expected me to comfort and turn a blind eye at her recent lapses, she was terribly mistaken. I'm no babysitter to pamper her nor a fool to believe in her good will, despite the outburst of fondness she expressed towards me before. There's no way I would convince myself to her no matter how tight she would hug me or how many crocodile tears she shed. She might think herself smart, but guess who's the master psychologist and manipulator? Her sudden change of attitude can bamboozle anyone but me, a born trickster and a person who saw how cunning she can turn out to be under the mask of a fragile, clueless ditzy she puts on to attract men and hide her true purposes.

Do you really think she's really relieved that I survived the blast because she holds a lot of warm feelings for me or had a change of heart, few hours after she considered pouncing on me for standing a burden between her and Dante? Ridiculous. She'd be the first one to gouge my eyes out with her own nails… if she could remain unpunished for that. However, she is aware that my death could result in her being accused of triggering it, due to her childish stubbornness to go to the tomb despite all the warnings. Pursuing various guys would be a bit difficult from behind the prison bars, wouldn't it? Unless someone fancies the wardens, of course. She wouldn't probably be sentenced to a long imprisonment, but even an entry about involuntary manslaughter doesn't attract men at all. I don't exclude the possibility that Dante expresses some female criminal fetish – he's a detective, after all, and there's something exciting in the awareness of playing with fire – but he'd never forgive Scarlet if something happened to his close teammate, and I certainly could be called one from his point of view. Thus, the accident would strain their questionable relationship even more, not giving her a chance to continue her attempts to seduce him… She prays with all her heart that she avoided such a tragedy and to thank for that gift of fate, she is ready to redeem for her sins by humiliating herself and asking me for forgiveness… probably thinking 'Now get the f*ck off and don't you dare to touch Dante, b*tch' at the same time. So easy to see through her.

While I'm weaving my deep psychological analysis and finishing my sandwich, the nurse leans over the last place when a gash was ten seconds ago. She nods with content as she can't find any trace of it anymore.

'Here you go, Miss Moon', she straightens up, brushing a fair strand from her cheek and continuing briskly: 'Wasn't that bad, was it? Now, I should go back to Mr. Vale and look after him until he wakes up', she decided, fixing her cap and preparing to leave. 'If you see Payne, tell him to deliver the food to the men's partition, alright, Eireen?', she addressed her sulking colleague who grunts shortly in agreement. 'Just in case he chooses the shortcut through one of the walls instead of the main entrance…'

She cuts short, listening out and knitting her plucked eyebrows. I take example on her, curious what made her so alert, and hiss to hush Scarlet who intends to ask what's going on. The other nurse doesn't repeat the mistake of opening her mouth. The partition gets dead silent, only the crickets sing among the grassy hills… and there are raised voices somewhere nearby. Sister Lauren's face clouds.

'Seriously, not a moment of peace!', she murmurs to herself as she purses her lips frowningly, then says to the rest of us: 'Just as I said, I'll better be going. Seems like someone's bothering my patient. Excuse me.'

She leaves quickly, as if she spread her Superwoman-like cloak and flew to the rescue. No need to worry. I just think that Dante's fan girls finally found him after a desperate chase for an autograph. Don't forget one of them has a very keen nose.

The same day, 19:31

Medical tent – men's partition

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

Dante quickly jumped onto his feet as he didn't want to remain rude towards a possibly older and estimable person. He quickly forgot about the argument with Brady, focusing all his attention on the man he could have finally met and check if the youngster's dislike was understandable or not. However, first a pair of men in brown blouses, with their faces so plain, common and middlebrow that he wouldn't give them a second look passing by them on the street, entered the tent and stood on each side of the entrance. Then, it got shaded completely, covering the interior in the dimness, and the main actor entered the stage. When he did, Dante had a hard time hiding his surprise and keeping his jaw in place.

He hadn't expected any image in particular, as he wasn't a man who judged people by appearances or had a certain stereotypical picture of any profession's workers, but he couldn't fight with an impression that this guy didn't exactly fit the words 'pursuit'. It rather gave an impression of a physically strong, sinewy daredevil who would follow the culprit even on his own feet, just like a bloodthirsty wolf hunting its prey. This guy looked as if he would barely keep his feet after a fifteen minutes long walk through the tomb. It was not that Dante was biased, he just thought that inspector should at least keep in shape and not to lack basic physical abilities, just in case his work moved from gathering intelligence and analyzing it to an open field. The man wasn't exactly obese, however, there was a time when even people slim like rakes for their whole life had to be aware of their weight. An oval rise of his belly showed that he was losing the fight with calories. His wrinkles got soaked in fat; his face looked like a clump of dough, with a bulbous nose in the centre, acting as the support for granny specs with a small chain attached to each arm and sinking in the sweaty furrows of his neck. To complete the image, he wore creased, leather boots, loose, brown pants, densely checked shirt with the collar unbuttoned and revealing a white undershirt. Brady snarled under her breath and murmured something which sounded like a disapproval of the fad which caused some geezers to wear warm clothes even in a 30 degrees scorch. Dante would rather call him 'middle-aged' - depending on his receding hairline, remains of salt-and-pepper curls behind his ears and sagging cheeks, his age could vary from forty five to sixty – however, it was not that mistake what struck him the most. Observing the man ascending the hill and puffing loudly under his nose arose overwhelming displeasure, pity and uneasiness, so he could understand Brady's reaction. At the first sight, he had also promised himself that he would quit the job once he wouldn't be able to run a hundred meters without breaking a sweat and spitting his lungs out. It would spare his colleagues a sad realization of him advancing in years.

However, shame stung him just as quickly as he realized he was being prideful. It was easy to feel superior before thirties, when the metrics spoke at one's merit. Detesting a process which would reach everyone sooner or later, natural, not a cause of humiliation, was a bigger reason to feel embarrassed. Besides, today he had a foretaste of the constant hospitalization and disability to act on his own. Who knew if tomorrow he wouldn't fall ill and be in a far worse position, even being still young? When he realized that, sympathy overflowed him as he additionally reminded himself of the bedridden Metz. Yes… sometimes limitations and dependence on other people came way sooner than expected, and not on someone one would point at as the obvious victim...

He decided he would show the man as much respect and acknowledgement as he could. Maybe it wouldn't be so difficult if the man was really a praiseworthy officer?

'Lovely weather for chatters! Pleasant gusts of air full of detonation smoke and gunpowder, really refreshing!', Murray cracked in a tone which could be seen as both joking and cantankerous, equally… and quickly got proved to be just one of them. 'Ah, and in that scenery, the two joint at the hip again! It's not like something new with you, Brady, given that you always have something to say, especially when you are supposed to get down to work! Shame my petitions for lowering your payment don't give any results, despite the obvious proofs of your slacking off…'

'That's what I was talking about', the SPARK member mumbled with a crooked smile to anyone in particular, as he stared at his military boots.

'Good evening, sir', meanwhile, McKenna took the initiative, interrupting the long stream of biting remarks in a surprisingly calm, collected voice, remaining in cold blood. 'Your concern is really admirable, but unwarranted. Sergeant Brady was dismissed after the SPARK members finished their preparations. They are currently waiting for further orders.'

'I didn't think that you, McKenna, would enjoy such companionship after getting promoted!', the man pursed his lips with disgust, which gave him an expression of an infuriated potato. 'I guess you should change the environment, as I suggested you, if you don't want to get moved to another laboratory, biologic maybe, due to your attachment to parasites… I hope you are aware that setting private affections above occupational obligations won't help you maintain your reputation…'

'I beg your pardon, sir', McKenna nodded slightly, much to Brady's dissatisfaction, 'but my true goal was consulting with the rescue team and the survivors, particularly Mr. Vale and…'

The man's eyes flashed in the bags created by his sagging skin and landed on Dante.

'Of course', he drawled. He left McKenna and came closer to Vale, who awaited him calmly. The man raised his head (there was at least a twenty centimeters height difference), piercing him with his narrow slits. Dante tried to take that stare with his casual friendliness or at least composure, however, it failed as quickly as the inspector opened his mouth.

'What am I not as surprised to see you?', he spitted. Literally; the drops of his saliva fell onto Dante's face, much to his distaste. Out of two evils, he preferred being dribbled at by dogs in kind of the frisky Missy than humans. 'Well, let's think about it… Maybe because I just knew it? Where a blast occurs, there always is Dante Vale around!', he added meanly, still eyeing him attentively. 'I guess I have heard too many stories about you and your flights of fancy recently to be shocked by another crazy adventure the others have to get you out of…'

Dante's face muscles froze as if someone had slapped him in the middle of forcing a smile. The spite which filled every word seemed to infect his ears and brain as well, just like the toxic gas of the Organization goon had done before. However, it felt far worse than the injuries he had gained during the scuffle. He wasn't used to such a treatment. He couldn't recall the last time when someone he had intended to approach as an ally had said such nasty things into his face, without any restraint or not in a teasing way… Of course he wouldn't be comfortable with O'Donnell's methods of glorifying him, as he didn't consider himself a superstar who deserved only the praises, but the criticism should have at least been constructive. The way Murray's behavior contrasted that concept felt like lurching from one extreme to another. It shocked him even more because he had been preparing to look up to his senior and show him all his respect. However, he had expected a similarly fair response. Meanwhile he had gotten thrown mud at without any warning… He saw that man for the first time in his life and instead of exchanging greetings, the first thing he was exposed to was heard was hearing a chain of reproofs, like a strict nanny lecturing a naughty child?! He couldn't believe he hadn't misheard it. However, Brady's meaningful 'I-told-you-so' peek only proved the words true.

'With all due respect', he said, trying to remain collected, balanced and not offensive at all, 'that accident was definitely not caused by unnecessary bravado. We were surprised by the danger awaiting us there, not triggering it. I guess no one could predict such a twist of fate…'

'No one?', Murray repeated with a mockingly sweet tone. 'Even you, Mr. Vale? You, the famous top Foundation operative? The pride of Huntik? A man of numerous talents? A flawless superhero, according to the rumors?', he enumerated, as if he had been throwing darts, each of them hitting the vital spot of his target; then underlined strongly: 'And, additionally, a licensed private investigator who should be aware of the perils and responsive for every suspicious signal? How come such reasoning failed you completely?', he pushed the point every further.

Vale lowered his head a bit, not pleased with what he had heard. Pointing out all the epithets people used to describe him in such a mocking manner wasn't exactly necessary. After all, he didn't see himself as a self-appointed celebrity nor could control what people said about him. Of course, some of the remarks were justified – for example, he deserved a tell-off for being too submissive towards Scarlet, not standing his ground more stubbornly, ignoring Zhalia's protests towards the whole project and thus, engaging them all in such a twisted story. However, handing down a sentence before hearing his version of the events or accusing him of neglecting the essential safety procedures was far below fair.

'Sir', he said, putting all the effort to push that word through his throat, 'we contributed to every security measurements possible before entering the tomb. We resorted to both natural and Seeker-associated methods', he highlighted; he had a hunch that Murray's lid twitched when he mentioned the ways involving powers, but carried on nevertheless: 'However, they couldn't guarantee that we would prevail against the other human's slyness and the force he us…'

'You forgot about one precaution', Murray interrupted him brashly. 'Keeping away from the trouble spot. And that's what reflects me the most. Wasn't it you yourself who warned us yesterday evening about the threat of the Organization occupying the Meath County and suggesting to avoid that area unless it gets properly checked and secured by our forces?', he reminded Vale, raising his voice to let everyone hear that, and continued crescendo: 'Everyone followed the ban, except of you and your comrades. What is that supposed to mean, Mr. Vale? Did the last events strain your common sense? Or maybe you allowed yourself to ignore it completely on your own free will? However, I can't find any sufficient reason for a grown-up man to go against the rules the rest of his colleagues obeyed…', he drawled meaningfully while the surrounding people's attention focused completely on the clash. 'Unless that man thinks that his magic tricks can do wonders and call him back from the verge of death, just with a swing of the wand.'

Dante had a feeling that carrying that fierce discussion any longer only went against him. He was quite adept in bruising arguments due to his past encounters and recent acquaintance with the hot-tempered Zhalia, however, he met as a formidable opponent. Every sharp sentence he made was confronted with Murray's incisive remark, turning the tables on him. Moreover, due to his age, experience and established position, implicating the possession of support area, he was on the upper hand when it came to keeping his emotions in check. Murray sewed his insults among the words of a reasonable man, effectively blurring the wits of those who listened to him, convincing them that he was only concentrated on the Foundation's weal, even when he was verbally running people over. There was no triumph against a person who clawed his way to success. If the matter was less urgent, Dante would proudly stand his ground, protecting his beliefs and fighting against the point of view that he found disgusting, but now he knew that someone should be wiser and put an end to that meaningless scuffle. Time worked against them all. Instead of carrying that confrontation on, they should resolve their differences and join forces to defeat their mutual enemy. The only method to achieve that appeared to be moving the battle to a field he didn't know well – diplomacy and good will.

'Inspector Murray, sir', Dante spoke, gathering all his inner balance, 'it's impossible for me to undo what happened here. However, I can do my best to bring an end to it. If you need any hints helpful in the investigation, there won't be a better guide than operative Moon', he suggested. 'Operative Byrne also hold some observations that might be proved useful. I'm sure both of them will cooperate effectively when they get better', he said loudly, as if he had wanted to drown the sound of the previous harmful words still carried by the wind blowing through the hills. 'As for myself, I can contribute to work at instant, if needed', he strained the truth, aware that the hour the nurse had estimated hadn't passed yet.

'What is your answer? Do you accept my offer?', he asked again, pushing such thoughts away.

The inspector observed him distrustfully, as if he had suspected him of hiding a nasty trick from all the audience and then pulling it out in the least expected moment. Dante didn't imagine that a man in his state – in a dirty duster ripped on both sleeves and jagged at the edge, catching shallow breaths as every deeper one caused his irritated insides to twitch and his face like a clay mask – could be a threat for anyone, but to underline his peaceful stance, he let his arms hang loose down his sides, showing both empty palms. Seeing that, Murray just sighed and smirked unpleasantly.

'OFFER, you say?', he repeated, still in the same spiteful manner. 'Don't you think too highly of yourself, Mr. Vale? You shouldn't be the one offering me anything right now. Giving an evidence is your duty as a suspect, after all...'

'Excuse me?!', Vale choked out, shocked. 'A SUSPECT?!'

'What makes you so surprised, Mr. Vale?', Murray asked with a mocking politeness of a Santa Claus who had visited a little angel-like child and instead of a dream present had brought a cane. 'All of your team is under supervision for now, unless we determine your evidences match the exact proceeding of events we recreated…', he explained calmly.

However, his serenity didn't have any influence on Dante, other than enraging him more, of course.

'I thought you need to know more about the attacker, apart from the info we shared with you in passing!', he burst out, ignoring the alarming pain in his right side. 'Instead, I've just learned that I'm accused of the crime I didn't commit and my teammates are also treated like culprits! What for?! They're not criminals, but victims of that accident, and I demand to treat them adequately to their status!'

'Unluckily, you cannot demand anything, Mr. Vale…', Murray started with a twisted pleasure as he observed Dante's apparent indignation.

'Sir…', McKenna finally regained his voice, interrupting him, 'I think Mr. Vale has the point… I'm not a specialist in investigation, but I assume that anyone participating in such a suicidal mission on purpose, apart from the Organization daredevils, denies the logic.'

Murray threw him a stare that could better fit a cockroach found on a table stool.

'I see that Brady's companionship really narrowed your horizons, McKenna', he responded coldly as if the Cracker hadn't been there anymore. 'You start to build your world view on the television pap and trashy thrillers following the same scheme. You better keep stuck to your line of work and leave the chase to me and my men… unless you can explain why a grown-up, seemingly sane woman decides to cause the explosion which could turn half of the area into rubble.'

'What?!', Dante snarled. Murray had a sketchy overview on the state of affairs if he mistook even the gender of the main originator of the underground commotion.

The inspector reached to his pocket and drew out a small plastic bag. Something flashed weakly through the transparent material. When Dante took a closer look, he noticed a screwed metal bundle which probably had been a tube before, but now resembled a bizarre flower with a straight stem and jagged petals, created by a blast from the inside.

'We found two set of fingerprints here. One of them isn't recorded in our database, but the other… it's certainly Zhalia Moon's', he finished, not even trying to hide his satisfaction.

'No', Dante whispered with his numb lips. 'That was impossible… ridiculous!', he threw what exactly appeared in his brain, not minding what he voiced. 'How on earth would have Zhalia managed to get the payload? And, damn it, she wouldn't have been so risky to use it, not knowing how it worked! What for?! To entertain herself during the kidnap?! Speaking of which, would an accomplice let herself be held hostage or risk her life in the explosions?! Besides, how come the shell survived the detonation? Of course it can't be real… It must be faked! There's no way Zhalia would…'

'The investigation would demonstrate that', Murray hid the token back into his pocket, seemingly content with its influence on his victim. 'Now we're over with chatters, let's get to the serious business already. Connolly, Whelan, requisition the suspect's weapons.'

'Sir, I don't think that's necessa…', McKenna started, but silenced when Murray's assistants pushed him back, leaving their spots next to the entrance and rushing to Dante like two obedient hounds. Vale raised his guard quickly, his fists glistened in the dimness as Dragonfist engulfed them in its energy.

'Not a step forward!', he warned them, looking at them above his clenched knuckles; he wasn't sure if the crimson mist covering his sight was the spell's brightness, the sign of trauma or fury taking over him by rushes of blood pumping into his temples.

'I advise you to contribute to the procedure, Mr. Vale', Murray said in a father-like manner, just like a murderer would try to convince a child to come with him. 'It wouldn't be wise to worsen your situation by resistance.'

'My surrender would be convenient for sure!', Dante growled sarcastically, trying to quiet down his panting which mercilessly bared his hindrance. 'However, you've got a back luck! I'm not a mindless dimwit who would follow your orders in fear! I know our rights! We are entitled to contact our lawyers and relatives before you proceed! You can't do anything by force!'

'Oh, can't I?', Murray smiled disgustingly sweet and nodded to his minions.

They reacted like dogs off a leash or cyborgs with their buttons pushed, or a mix of animal and a machine, prepared exactly to receive and fulfill orders, mostly brutal. One of them pounced at Dante, but before he crushed his prey with his weight, Vale received an unexpected support. Brady barred the goon's way and pushed him astray with all his momentum. The two landed on the ground and rolled aside in a mass of limbs; Brady stopped laying on his back, cursing and holding his bleeding nose.

'Brady, you fool!', McKenna shouted with panic, rushing to his friend. 'Stay out of this!'

'An unexpectedly wise advice', Murray admitted, then added proudly like a Caesar watching bloody games: 'Keep away, boy, and maybe I will show you my clemency…'

'Screw you!', Brady growled unclearly, crawling on the ground. 'I don't give a damn about all your insults, but you're attacking a stretcher case, you c*nts! And you!', he yelled furiously at McKenna who caught his arm, 'you don't want to be involved, right?! So get off me!', he pushed the doctor away so hard that the researcher lost his balance. On his trembling legs, he made few steps, trying to regain the pose. Then, just as his attempts seemed to succeed, he got tripped up by a stuck-out leg, faltered two meters further and finally fell onto Dante. Accidentally pushing his elbow right into his abdomen.

It was as if a huge bonfire had been ignited on the staging of Vale's ribs; the smell of burning meat was easily imaginable. The Seeker gasped for breath when he felt like choking with his own saliva and guts. He tripped, losing his balance and slipping onto the ground like a heavy, inert sack of stones, with his limbs barely able to soften the fall. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, his breath shortened, the spit created a small puddle between his hands when he panted, waiting for his lungs to slide through his throat and swat onto his fingers, temporary blinded and paralyzed. Now he knew why the nurse insisted on him following the orders and warned him about the sensitivity of the wound.

'Thank you, Brady!', Murray commented as the Cracker landed next to Dante and McKenna, thrown there by his persecutor. 'You've been useful at last! However, your brave performance would cost you your freedom… I would gladly lock you in the jail for your entire life!'

'What for?!', the young man screamed, unable to tame the nosebleed. 'It was you who attacked an irenic guy first, damn it! And just now, do you think nobody saw how you arranged McKenna's fall to eliminate the burden, you bastard?! You won't get out with this cheap trick!'

'Who could prove your words right?', Murray smirked while his minion was backing his foot innocently. 'McKenna is well-known for having his head in the clouds and tripping over even on a level pavement, it's not necessary to push him. However, if the victim would be needed, then me, Whelan, Connolly and McKenna can only admit that first, you laid onto an official, helping a suspect, and then hit your proximate superior!'

'But sir...!', McKenna protested, getting up and staring at the victims in horror, then, seeing his friend in need, he intended to lean over them and help Brady tame the hemorrhage.

'If you touch any of them or have a funny idea to contradict my drift of events version, you can say goodbye to your appointment', Murray warned him sharply. 'Helping the troublemakers doesn't look good in CV.'

McKenna froze with his hand in his breast pocket, halfway during taking out a handkerchief. He gazed at the Cracker, the inspector, then back at the young man with his face smeared in red, as well as both his hands. Brady gave the stare back, pressing his sleeve to his nose.

'Go on, Bren… Your appointment matters more, right?', he mumbled blearily. It must've taken a lot of effort not to fill those words with sarcasm and spite.

McKenna parted his lips, still not taking his eyes off him. His glasses slid down his nose as sweat appeared on his tense face.

'You heard him', Murray supported the Cracker surprisingly. 'It'd be a shame to waste the rare moment of Brady's masterstroke.'

Then, the doctor closed his mouth and swallowed hardly. Eventually, he took a step back, hunched and cheerless, as if he had been carrying a significant weight on his shoulders, still looking at his friend apologetically. Strangely, Brady didn't seem surprised. He just nodded shortly directly to McKenna, with his eyes as unmoved as before.

'See?', Murray commented with satisfaction, as if setting best friends against each other was his favorite hobby. 'I've always thought you are a reasonable man, McKenna.'

In his mouth, the compliment sounded like an offence, causing Brendan to bundle even harder and turn his head aside.

Dante thought he was dreaming. He felt as if he had experienced a nasty nightmare, in kind of those when the dreamer finds himself in the court as the guilty one, oblivious to the crime he had committed, standing before the grand jury, a group of silent spectators who observed him detachedly like any other object in the room, pitied him or hated him just for opposing the status quo, and the judge who could decide on his fate with one swing of his gavel. Now the situation was dreadfully similar, though way more serious as he couldn't hope to wake up soon. He looked in the inspector's deep-set eyes and understood his intentions at instant. Although unbelievable, they were as clear as the water in mountain lakes. Murray wanted to humiliate him in front of everyone he and his team had dragged here in their cause. He wanted to strip him off authority he carried among his co-workers due to his position. What for? Unlike his dreams, in reality there had to be a reason…

He couldn't gather his thoughts to think of any, his brain screamed in protest when he tried to kick it back into working normally, not taking his breath, cooling his inflamed guts, easing his nausea and keeping his head from becoming too heavy to lift it... There was no way he would manage to stay up any longer... but he had to, he couldn't let Murray escape without any explanations why he was turning the rescue into another trap...

Though he didn't find the answer he sought, he gained something as important: a proof that no matter how warped and hopeless the state of affairs might have looked like, there was a major difference from the circumstances he could find himself in during the night visions of doom. He wasn't alone. He suddenly received support from the least expected direction.

'WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!', a female voice reached him as if from a huge distance, though for the others it was probably loud and piercing enough to bristle the hairs on their necks. 'WHO LET YOU ALL IN?! AND… OH MY GOD!'

He reached his limit and slumped inertly, not controlling his muscles anymore. However, he didn't hit against the ground; his head landed on something soft, his shoulders supported by a reliable sturdiness. Before his lids fell down, too heavy to lift them any longer, he noticed a curtain of blonde hair falling onto his cheeks from a snip of whiteness and a contrasting smirch spotted with red dots right above.

'Hang on here', he heard like from the bottom of a hundred miles deep well, echoing, as if he was lying down there, in coldness and silence. It was so difficult to stay awake, no matter how this voice urged him to stay awake…

Don't worry about me... Just warn the others, he thought, but didn't manage to voice it before losing consciousness.

The same day, 19:43

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

My theory about fangirls fails right when the first shout pierces the air like a dagger.

Accompanying the distant voices, Scarlet chokes out a strangled squeal, twitching and dropping a sandwich (by the way - what a waste, no matter of the conditions).

'What was that?', she whispers, a bit terrified, her voice on the verge of breaking again.

The dark-haired Sister Higgins stops moving the medical utensils left and right in the suitcases to kill time, raising her head, though looks as indifferent as before. She just shakes her head and shrugs, only a bit irritated that someone dares to bother her again. You know, there are born caretakers like Sister Lauren and those who chose such a profession out of calculation or lack of other perspectives, and I guess Sister Higgins is the second case. It's nothing to blame, but after all, people prefer to approach the kinder ones, as the other ones' faces show their detachement too clearly. I guess the nurse is fed up with us already and doesn't know what to do with our dragging presence here, hoping someone fatigues to pick us up from here soon. Moreover, she probably doesn't give a damn about the clamor at all, supposing that the accident won't repeat. However, such a belief is not enough to calm Scarlet down. Momentarily, the lazy evening atmosphere gets so heavy that you could hang a hatchet in the tense air. Even the crickets have enough shame to stop their concert for few heartbeats, and when they return to it, I don't care anymore, as the noises in the other partition intensify... and I think I recognize Dante's baritone.

I guess no fangirl would bring him to the limit and make him so loud... oh, wait. That's not impossible, but in those circumstances… that's not likely… oh, stop for once, my perverted brain! It's not like he was assaulted by a mad squadron of horny chicks who attempted to rape him, damn it! [Of course if it's possible to rape a man… it's rather called a 'sex surprise'.] If not any hanky-panky stuff, then what? He's not a person to raise his voice without an important reason…

I peek at the uninterested nurse, then quickly mime to Scarlet to keep quiet (the index finger pressed to my lips) or I'll slit her throat open (the same finger slid through my neck horizontally) and before any of them gets what I'm going to do, I dash into the linen hall padding like a prowling feline.

I take the straight line, then, when forced to choose between two corridors, turn left and intend to run forward, guided by Sister Lauren's authoritative voice. However, halfway during the sprint, I suddenly bump into something squashy like a semi-inflated lifebelt. I quickly back off, as if I was scalded, and when I raise my stare, I meet a fleshy mouth bent in a wide, toad-like smile.

'What a lucky coincidence', I hear from them. 'I haven't expect you to come so willingly, Miss Moon.'

Why do I suddenly feel like a fat fly glued to a sticky tongue?...