The fact the door was open was a little suspicious, but considering they'd been sure John had been leading them along, it was fair to assume he was expecting him and so might have left it unlocked just for him.

Gordon wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Angry. Yes, but thinking about it, that was all he felt.

He shook his head, dislodging the thoughts. He had to focus.

He was too close to his goal to get distracted now. To lose this opportunity after all this time.

One last check of the gun and he stepped into the dark corridor, rolling his eyes as he heard the door's locks click shut. He was trapped, and he wasn't at all surprised.

Of course he'd be locked in.

Cursing under his breath, he crept onwards, crouched down just in case, military training kicking in.

At the end of the hall was a large set of double doors, heavy, steel grey things with small chicken mesh windows that had been covered over. The doors themselves had a heavy, jimmy-proof deadbolt lock on them.

With some level of apprehension and ignoring the voice in the back of his head that screamed (and probably quite rightly so) that what he was about to do was amazingly stupid, he turned the handle and stepped in.

This was not what he had expected…

Though, in fairness, he hadn't been sure what to expect. It was floor to ceiling with computer banks, huge looming towers of grey. What was this place to need so much processing power? Or was it storage?

Both?

Computers were not his things—that area always came down to John. He turned to look at the area behind him, and speaking of the wayward sibling, there he was, slumped against the wall and looking far from healthy. He glanced about the room again before heading to him, ignoring the fact the small trail of blood suggested he had been standing in some of it before he came to a stop at the wall.

He crouched in front of him. He was slouched, hands resting on a patch of half-dried, tacky blood that had seeped sluggishly between his fingers.

He looked…

'John?' he asked softly—begged, really.

For a moment, his heart stopped, a small, brief flicker of sorrow, regret, loss… 'Johnny? No…no, you selfish bastard.'

He shook him, refused to accept this. 'John.' The word was sharp and louder than he meant, but it worked, and John hissed, low and angry, before he looked up to him, eyes opening slowly with far too much effort. He needed a hospital.

The relief that stuck Gordon made him almost dizzy, and he rather hated himself for it.

'Thank God,' he sighed, unable to smother the smile. 'John—'

'She's here.' The words seemed to sap the strength from him, but before Gordon could ask anything, he continued, the effort making Gordon feel drained. 'Burn it,' he commanded, eyes drifting to the room of towering machines. 'Burn it all and get out. Go.' He pushed at him gently and ineffectively, and while part of him wanted to know more, the desperation and need in those words pulled on something. There was a need, and it wasn't self-preservation.

'Okay,' he answered, nodding as he turned back to the room. Risking a final glance at John gave an added need to make this fast. He was gone again.

How he was meant to do this, he had no idea, so he would follow Virgil's adage of "When in doubt, smash it." Well, Virgil normally said, 'Blow it up,' but he had no explosives, so smash it was.

Carefully he stood and stepped forward quietly as he could; there was something ominous to the room. The feeling of being watched from everywhere. It was almost oppressive, really.

For the most part, though, he just couldn't get his head around the size of the place, the power that sat here and was about to be lost.

So. Many. Computers.

It was insane.

Then again, this whole affair had been. From start to finish, none of this made any sense to him.

Later. Muse later, smash now.

So with a sudden sense of dread, a need to move, he took hold of the closest chair and hefted it overhead.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you.'

The sudden voice made him jump, making him almost drop the chair as he spun round to face nothing.

'Sorry, did I startle you?' It came from…everywhere, all around. It was soft and delicate, like wind chimes, but there was an undertone. Was that fear?

He let the chair slip from his grip as he stepped forward, looking for the source of the voice. Presumably Naunet. Who else would, or could, it be but her?

'Going to show yourself?'

She laughed, the image flickering to life, built up from the ground with a look almost like water.

She smiled, and Gordon had to admit she was rather attractive for a collection of flickering pixels.

'Naunet, I assume?'

'Gordon,' she stated, stepping forward, the action fluid and smooth, the green shawl thing trailing along the ground behind her. She moved with the confidence of someone that knew they were attractive, and so every action was done to highlight it, from the swing of her hips to the way she looked at him, a small, careful turn of her head to show off her bone structure.

'I've heard a lot about you.' He turned to keep her in his field of view. She didn't say anything, just continued to circle him like a tiger waiting for the opportune moment, poised to pounce.

She was the predator here, she was in charge.

Gordon had made a mistake. A big one.

He'd done what Virgil and Scott and even John had told him not to time and again. He'd jumped the gun. Expect Virgil wasn't coming to find him, to pull him out, Virgil wasn't going to smack him upside the head with a sigh, and it was because of her.

No, she thought she was in charge, but he could change it.

Somehow…

'Going to share?' she asked, finally stopping to face him again.

'No.' He stepped forward, mimicking the motion of studying her. 'Going to ask you what you're doing and how you did it.'

She laughed, never turning to keep her gaze on him, but then again, this was just a projection, an idea, for Gordon's benefit. She probably had cameras everywhere. Everything "she" did was for show. Everything she did was to get at him. It was to make a point.

'You expect me to monologue? To make some longwinded speech like "the Hood" and give you every detail?' she scoffed in something akin to disgust at the idea 'No, I think not, but I will answer one question, assuming it's not a stupid one, because that amused me.'

'One question? 'He frowned.

'One,' she repeated, purposely slowly, dragging the word out.

He wracked his mind, searching for something. This wasn't something he could waste; she would only give him this one chance, he knew that.

'Did—did you have anything to do with the initial explosion?'

'You mean the one that blinded Scott? That left Virgil vulnerable enough for John too, somehow, fail to kill him? Did I have anything to do with that?'

'Yes, did you?'

'Yes. I did.' She grinned, folding her arms, the pride turning his stomach. 'I arranged that, I set it up, and I blew it up. I chose my moment and boom.'

His mind ground to a halt, stuttering on the admission. He had suspected maybe, she seemed to have had her hands in everything, directing it all, or at least John, but to hear it?

'I had hoped they would have died then, but they didn't, so change of plans. I have to say, your brothers are very hard to kill. Seems to be a family trait.' She looked past him to John. 'An admirable one, I have to say.'

'How?'

'Hmm? 'She looked back to him, raising a perfect eyebrow. 'I say, are you asking another question? I think I only agreed to one.'

'How?'

She ran her tongue over her teeth with a grin, pulling the deep green shawl up a little. 'Say please.'

'What?'

'You want to know? Say please.' She stepped through him, the hologram flickering as it moved about him. It did something less than pleasant to his stomach as he spun on his heels to watch her as she stood over John. Watching him.

It took every ounce of willpower, but she had the power, and he wanted, needed, to know. 'How did you do it? Please.' He could see the grin in her posture as she turned back to him.

'The craft was a decade-old GDF… thing, I can't care to remember. I hacked the specs from their system and had… a partner, shall we say? Build it for me, and no, I won't tell you who. But they built it, and when the moment was right, well, Virgil is deaf and Scott is blind, to say the least.'

'How do you know that?'

She laughed. 'Because I've been watching. I know a lot more than you think.' She walked back to him, stopping before him to run the incorporeal finger along his jawline. 'A lot more than you know. For instance, I know that Penelope is about to run into a few very painful bullets.'

For the second time in as many minutes, Gordon's mind tripped over itself. He pulled back, turning away from the holographic monster, and ran for the exit, his world on a knife edge. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't…