Back at THRUSH London's secondary headquarters, Cheri Yuconovich was talking to members of the CID investigating the suicide of one Lucius Alexander Bailey who was still dangling at the end of a thirty foot rope outside the seventh floor windows of a vacant office. She had explained three times that she heard a scream, a crash and dashed into the room to see the broken window, only later realizing that there was a rope leading from the heavy oak desk to the window and out. No, no one had passed her in the hall way or on her way through the door. She really could not hazard a guess as to Mr. Bailey's state of mind that day, she had not yet seen him.

Giles Faversham and his right hand, Darnall, were staying out of the way and letting Cheri handle everything. Public executions were not, after all, good for their image. Not that Bailey didn't deserve to die given the evidence Cheri stacked up against the man. She was handling the very public death with aplomb and the sort of deferential good cheer that made the CID both pleased and annoyed,.

Once the furor died down and the police figured out how to get the body down, most of THRUSH's involvement would be over. Bailey had enemies, lots of them. Who didn't?

"Gentlemen, we've been over this three times. I'm not suddenly going to do an about face and tell you I walked into an office and shoved a man out the window, neatly tying a line around his neck to make certain he strangled instead of hitting the concrete."

"Did you?" the officious, short, mustached member of the team shot back.

"No, I did not. As I said, I hadn't seen Mr. Bailey all morning. Not unusual around here. We all have our own staff and projects."

"What was Mr. Bailey working on?" the tall dark member of the team asked, smiling disarmingly.

"Not a clue. You'd have to ask his staff. I'll see if I can locate them. This isn't Mr. Bailey's normal office, they're probably in the U.S. One. Baltimore, I believe," she offered.

"What was he doing here?" shorty asked.

"I believe he said checking on availability of a commodity he couldn't get in the U.S. I can have one of my staff check on that for you, if you like." Her face was beginning to stiffen in the smile she had pasted on it. "Now, if you have no more questions, I need to let my people know what's going on."

The two men regarded her seriously and nodded. "We'll be in touch."

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath as she closed the door behind her, heading to Faversham's office immediately. As she entered, she sensed a tension in the room. "What's up?"

"Heron has run into some issues with some of her personnel. When she ordered the release of the two agents, with suitable amnesia induction, her guards rebelled and have barricaded themselves down in the cells where the subjects are being held."

"I'm going to have to go to Blackpool? Again?"

Darnall met her ice chip gaze squarely. "Mr. Faversham believes it would be best if you handled this, yes."

"Great." She looked around the room idly, chasing plans and thoughts as she did, then giggled. "Sorry. Sudden visions of Dagon or Great Cthulhu himself rising from the sea there. Not a good thing, but impressive." Her thoughts skittered again. "Y'know, we should really consider investing in the Japanese rubber suit monster movies. They fill a need, even outside of Japan." With that completely off topic comment, she turned and left, exiting the building a few minutes later to locate her sleek Jaguar XKE and roar off into the light traffic.

Faversham frowned at his companion in the swirl of silence after she left. "She has a very odd sense of humor. You'd almost think ..."

"... that neither of those were an option wherever she came from," Darnall finished the disturbing thought for his boss. "Rather wish we were there sometimes."

Dr. Heron, disheveled, bearing a large rifle along with her trusty sidearm, prowled through the empty halls of her installation slowly pulling her anger into a towering rage that her hand picked personnel were so stupid as to challenge her. What were they thinking? She whipped around a corner, at the ready and … more nothing. Where the hell were they? Maybe she should have injected all of them with the compliance virus. Maybe next time she would.

A wide metal door barred her way now. She was on the cell level where much of the medical work took place. Thinking better of just touching the door, she tossed a lipstick she found in her pocket at it. The shower of sparks was impressive. An electrified door. What the hell? Her eyes feel to the floor edge where something dark and dangerous puddled and was moving out into the hallway. That could not be good.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone on the wall next to her rang. Her weapon discharged as her finger tightened on the trigger. A second ring prompted her to answer it. "Heron."

"Dr. Heron, this is Cheri. I understand you're having some issues. I'd suggest retreating to the upper levels until I get there with a friend who may be able to get your personnel back under your control."

"What is going on?"

"There's a winding black vortex of clouds over your installation; not Blackpool as a whole, just your installation. I believe something more than THRUSH nasty may have invaded and would prefer not to have to dispose of someone as useful as yourself. If you see black fluid, retreat, swiftly. Dr. Heron?" Cheri looked at the phone with some concern.

A few moments later, a breathless Heron caught her just before hanging up. "Black fluid. It's leaking out from under the door to the secure area. I think all of my staff may be down there, along with the experimental subjects I was making certain were all right to return to their respective … homes. It takes a couple of days to remove the virus successfully."

"Retreat outside if you need to. We're on our way." She looked around at the silver white haired young woman who had once been scheduled as a sacrifice to Dagon. "Sounds like more of the same."

"It may not obey me. They may all be dead by the time we get there," she spoke over the roar of the helicopter blades rotating above them. "Or they may all be taken. Why do you trust me?"

"I don't. But I think making a place for yourself beyond what the man who slew your people wanted is a good thing. Eventually, you'll make your own decision about whether to follow him or to stay human. Part of me wants the latter. You remind me of someone who was very important to me."

"Lover?"

That got a burst of laughter. "No. Partner, friend … family. Not something you'd understand quite yet, I think." She looked out the window. Oh Hell, Blackpool already.