The Catacombs were dank and smelly, but these facts were the least of Zane's problems.

Strung up by his wrists, the young man wrinkled his nose as he felt sticky blood trickle from his lip down his chin in one irritatingly slow motion. Ignoring the fierce burning sensations across his chest and back that pulsated hours later due to being tazered consistently over a seventy-two hour period, Zane listened hard.

Through the wrought iron door, he could detect the faint utterances of the guards outside his cell as they discussed the transport of defectors in low tones. Although his French was rusty, the twenty-five year old could identify some key words – "defectors", "Solstice", "Chiron".

It was not a lot to go on, but the distraction was a reprieve from dwelling on the brutal way Falcon had been murdered by the French Familiars.

Zane knew it was a small mercy that his friend's murder hadn't been drawn out – but it was the way Falcon had been killed that made Zane furious and the tactical manner in which the Familiars had denigrated the graceful powerhouse of intelligence, agility and lethal skill of his X5 compatriot.

It was the Priestess who had sanctioned the killings of his makeshift unit. That bitch was number one on Zane's hit list when he got out of here. She had made him watch helpless as his teammates were lined up in the hallway like farm animals and shot point blank in the head one by one in front of him, their blood stains marring the damp medieval cobble stone walls outside his cell.

Then, later that evening, following hours of brutal interrogation, Zane had had to forcibly witnessss from the tiny window in the Priestess' chamber as the Familiars displayed the X-Series bodies in the square, lynched high for all to see, a rallying cry for the ordinary men, women and children to warn them of the abominations that walked among them, looking just like them.

It was disgusting, but the X5 was unsurprised. If Manticore had taught him anything as a kid, it was never to under estimate what people were capable of doing to each other. Now that the Familiar's spree of blood lust had abated for the time being, the young man knew that it was just a matter of watching, learning and taking action before his time was up too.

Zane was a hostage, that was a fact. He had been held in this five-by-five cell for 35 days and counting. Unable to get enough leverage to snap the bonds hoisting him to the ceiling, the young man angled his bare body so that as much as possible of his long olive limbs could rest against the cell wall. It was an effort to take the pressure off of his numb arms as he knew that the mechanics of his joints could only take so much tension.

Ignoring how slimy with damp the surface was, Zane closed his forest green eyes. Gritting his teeth as they chattered in the cold, he mentally went over his childhood French lessons and keenly listened-out for more utterances from the guards outside.

"Defector's…"

"- against DuMonde and Renfro Family -"

"… homed an abomination -"

"… Sandeman … betrayal -"

"- question X5 – 4:00 -"

"- Labyrinth … fire- "

The X5 let out a long sigh in irritation. None of it made any sense to Zane, except for the fact that he probably had one hour to sleep before he was in for another round of interrogation at the hands of these psychos.

Zane felt the subtle vibrations first, then the young man heard the faint sound of sirens and loud bangs. As the vibrations from the city above made their way underground, he deduced the Familiar's had resumed their campaign of raining bombs onto Paris above under the guise of some neo-socialist terrorist cell. Instantly the rats hiding in the crevasses of his cell ran around fright and Zane could not hold back a hiss feeling the creatures crawl around his ankles and bare feet.

Fighting back deep feelings of disgust and frustration, the X5 thoughts raced as he struggled to work out why he had been spared to languish in a medieval cell. Luckily his interrogators had not caught wind of the fact that he had been instrumental in Caste assassinations in Brazil, Africa, Scotland, the Amazon, the United States, Canada, England and Greece this past year, but it was only a matter of time.

Reflecting on the snippets of conversation he could decipher and drawing on the training of his formative years, Zane deduced it was highly likely that the Familiars had now captured the Mosses – who hated him on basis of the fact the he and Jondy shared a connection they never could with their daughter – and in line with the Familiar playbook, Zane figured they were also being held prisoner somewhere within this creepy underground graveyard filled with skulls or soon to be dead. The question was why? What was the Familiars objective?

Zane guessed that he was being kept as a pawn in a larger strategic game-play related to Jondy and her deep cover, but his limited communication skills and the sensory deprivation was really beginning to rattle his thought processes.

His wife had only shared with him the highlights of her childhood since their time at Manticore – beautiful private schooling in New York, family dinners and childhood birthday parties - never really anything in greater detail about the more cultish-aspect of her upbringing he had found out about through Max in one explosive argument - and before that, when they had hooked up together in San Francisco he had witnessed Jondy's keenness to assert her independence from her parents.

A part of Zane knew - the X5 soldier that lived with him in the recesses of this mind - that although it appeared to be the only logical answer, his judgement was clouded. The only thing the X5 was certain about was that the Catacombs was a Keeping Place he dearly didn't want to join.

He had to come up with an escape plan, fast.

"Thanks for meeting this late, John." Lydecker stated, pulling his reading glasses down his nose, glancing from his file to the video link on his computer monitor.

"Not a problem." Worthington responded promptly, glint in his eye, coming in clear through the end-to-end encrypted link. "Things are heating up Deck." He commented with relish.

"Yes, they are." Lydecker nodded, narrowing his steely gaze slightly. "Now that the enemy is aware of our tactics, the dynamics are altering rapidly. How did we go with the CIA? The NSA can't be too happy they are being circumnavigated due to 'jurisdictional' remit."

Worthington smirked.

"CIA are comfortable, happy for your kids to take the hit, as opposed to their operatives. In their view it's a win-win. NSA is disgruntled, but after what happened in Seattle, all agreed it's for the best this is led by the CIA. We are in a new state of play..."

Lydecker observed Worthington seemed to be in his element.

"Both Agency Heads were commiserating the loss of McKinley and all the good work he had done for the security portfolio," Worthington continued his brief. "According to the official line, Seattle's finest Senator died in a Mexican forest fire."

"Good," Lydecker allowed, mulling over the update. "At least the Feds only know what they need to."

"Indeed. I've briefed our Black Ops team here in Washington. We are good to go. Legal are developing the case for the European Commission."

Lydecker nodded, "And Cale's concerns over in Seattle. How are they to be mitigated?"

"Look, Deck you know how it is. Having one of your rouge X5s be the face for all things transgenic nation-building is causing a lot of consternation in the Capitol…"

Worthington cleared his throat, searching for the right words. "The view is, from the President down, that once this job is done, whatever is left of these assets are to be called in… and reappropriated."

Lydecker nodded, it was as he suspected.

"Understood."

"Good." Worthington's reply came out in a grunt. "I was worried you were going to fight me on that one." The younger man chuckled. "I know how much your kids mean to you Deck."

"They mean a great deal," Lydecker emphasized. "Especially the Officer class. A weapon-systems like those few X5 is a rare commodity in the current market and one that cannot be so easily 'reappropriated'."

"I understand." Worthington acknowledged the warning.

"Right," he grunted, "time to get moving on this thing. Our orders are for this to be short war. The economy's already fucked - don't want to repeat history and tank it further."

"Duly noted." Lydecker nodded. "I'll report back in a few days with a status update."

"Good." Worthington ended the call.

Lydecker sighed.

"Did you get all of that Cale?" He queried wryly to the cellphone on his desk.

"I did." Came a slightly static voice over the line. "Looks like Eyes Only is going to go national in the near future."

"Yes. Worthington has always been a piece of work, but this is a whole new level. Even for him." Lydecker paused, thinking. "Tell your girlfriend, I want to speak with her A.S.A.P."

"Will do." Logan Cale responded instantly as there was no mistaking the directive. "But you know Max won't change her mind Lydecker."

The line went dead.

Lydecker mounted the steps to his house, momentarily glad for the fresh air and solitude, pausing for a moment to take in the vivid sunset over the snow-capped rolling hills from his front porch.

It was a rare moment of beauty, in an otherwise grim situation: Jondy had been banished to the safe house for her own good. After she had started convulsing, badly, on his office floor forty-eight hours ago, he had had to take action.

Quickly keying in the security code to his front door, Lydecker made a beeline down the dusty hallway towards the back of his house, keen to get the situation resolved as soon as possible. Entering the guest bedroom, he was unhappy yet unsurprised to see the X5 had her left arm handcuffed to the headboard.

"I thought I was clear that she was not to be restrained. What happened?" The Colonel barked at O'Neil who sat in the corner of the room, keeping watch on the teenager's sedated figure and whom he noted appeared largely bored.

"What always happens with these damn kids Don," O'Neil commented as he stood to face the door way and turned his head in the light.

Instantly Lydecker winced at the black eye his colleague sported.

"She tried to escape." His tone was sardonic, at best.

Lydecker sat down Jondy's pack on the ground inside the doorway, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"I felt I was making head way with her…" he commented more to himself than anyone present, looking over at her prone form on the bed.

"Well, you may have of." O'Neil agreed, moving to take the pack. "But think about the last time she saw me."

Lydecker grunted, recalling the night they had extracted her and the role O'Neil had played in saving her life.

"She was not so friendly," O'Neil commented sarcastically, "maybe if Cameron was her babysitter things might have gone differently... but I had to sedate her," he continued, as he pulled her meagre belongings out and onto the sideboard in the room. "For both our peace of mind… here's some contraband for you?"

O'Neil handed Lydecker an envelope: it was the only item that seemed unusual among her clothes and ration pack.

Lydecker peered inside, but did not utter a word.

"Kid reminds me too much of my smart mouthed eldest if I'm honest," O'Neil observed to fill the silence, tone was weary as he stifled a yawn, stretching in his civilian garb.

"She's a handful that's for sure," Lydecker agreed, pocketing the item and walking over to the bedside table to inspect the make-shift drip that had been strung up. "What's her current status? I can take it from here – need a bit of downtime myself."

"No more seizures, some mild shakes but that's about it. She's had about fifteen hours of rest the past couple of days and keeps talking in her sleep about something called Cat Tombs…" O'Neil reported as he handed Lydecker the medial pack they were treating her with. "Strange but she's said it so many damn times, it must mean something. She should come round by 19:00, probably earlier."

"Good, I have quite a few questions for her. Anything else?"

O'Neil let out a small sigh, "I've also reiterated to her that she is safer here than at our bunker hidey-hole. But she's still pretty sullen after that hissy-fit she threw in your office about the other X5 – Zane is the alias right? Otherwise, our Jondy hasn't been much of a talker when she's awake… it's been like watching paint dry around here."

Lydecker nodded, it was standard procedure for X5s in captivity to only speak when spoken to.

"And how much progress have we made?" He gestured to all the medical paraphenalia on the bedside table, his frustration was palpable. "I want her operational asap, it has taken far too long since we extracted her."

"Her vitals are good," O'Neil responded instantly.

Putting his glasses back on, Lydecker scanned the list of medical instructions scrawled on a piece of paper by Cameron, based on his field-medic qualifications before joining his Manticore Black Ops, which was by her bedside.

"She's onto her sixth drip – A, B, K, E and Tryptophan are done." O'Neil advised. "This one's D and Calcium. Iron infusion's next with C which will take a while, probably ninety minutes, and she should be superwoman."

O'Neil couldn't stifle his yawn this time, having been on watch for seventy-two hours straight.

"Sorry Deck, I'm not as young and spritely as I used to be. I'm going to get some shut eye down the hall, if you need anything..."

"Thanks Nate, the sooner this is done the better. We're sitting ducks here."

The other man nodded to himself, stopping in the doorway to turn back to his boss.

"Also, Kilan looped me in on this morning's need-to-know briefing and deployments."

"Good, then you know our timeline has ramped up. Skeleton personnel only at our hidey-hole currently."

"Yes, I understand that the President formally sanctioned a global war effort in the early hours this morning?" O'Neil's tone was grave.

"She did… Nate, you and I are the only individuals who know this X5 is housed at this location and I prefer to keep it that way." Lydecker shot O'Neil a stern look as he took a seat by the teenager's bedside.

"Understood."

"Cameron is to be kept out of the loop on this." Lydecker instructed, knowing he had had to do his best to get Jondy into a position of safety, especially when she was so strategically valuable to the war effort the USA had now formally instigated with the permission of the Atlantic Commission.

"Noted, sir." O'Neil turned, exiting the guest room. "Call me if you need."

Leaning back in the chair, Lydecker pulled the envelope from his pocket, extracting its contents, noting X5's breathing was steady.

Narrowing his gaze as he tried to make out the grainy images, the Colonel quickly ascertained the envelope contained photo upon photo of tiny runes. Except from what he could tell, these were images of tattoos on a body that did not belong to Jondy. He noticed the placement of the runes appeared different in the images to what he had seen on her previously and he realised the skin tone was probably a shade too tanned.

It was only upon flicking through to the last photo which showed his wife's eyes staring out from image at him, that Lydecker realised the images were all of her sister, Max. Swallowing hard against his mounting irritation, Lydecker glanced at his watch, it was 18:30 - time for sleeping beauty to wake up, neurological episode be damned.

Loathe to touch her while she was sleeping, Lydecker stood, turning on all the bright overhead lights and slammed the bedroom door closed. Noticing her luminous blue eyes flutter as he ambled back to the side of her bed, the Colonel reached out to remove her restraints and didn't like the mutinous glare she shot him one bit as she came to.

"You've come to your senses quickly," he observed, somewhat sarcastically as he resumed his seat, while the X5 moved to sit up on the bed, fiddling with the leads in both of her arms.

"If you yank those IVs, O'Neil will sedate you again and I'll see to it that both your wrists are in cuffs," Lydecker warned sternly.

Jondy rolled her eyes, swallowing down a retort, feeling like death warmed up despite their medical intervention. She had not had a seizure so bad in years and glancing down, observed she was covered in faint bruises across her arms, and could feel that her jaw and right hip were likely also badly bruised.

"You have a lot of questions to answer Jondy."

Lydecker waved the wad of images in the air.

Realizing what he held in his hand, the X5 coughed, caught off guard, and when she next spoke her voice came out husky. "You went through my things?!"

"Not the point. Explain to me what the hell is going on here." The directive came out in a growl.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Cale gave me these." Jondy's tone came out tired as her vision doubled. "I-I am trying to translate them, b-but they don't make any sense." She struggled to stifle a yawn.

"Does Cameron know about these?" Lydecker demanded.

"N-Nosir." Jondy blinked rapidly, fighting back visceral flashbacks to her time as a child being interrogated by Lydecker, and registered that she felt far too woozy for this conversation he was hell bent on having.

"So, you failed to report highly important intel to your superior officer and we are instigating a war effort." Lydecker's expression was thunderous as he got up from his chair.

Jondy stared at the bedspread, frozen, unable to look him in the eye or hide behind her hands.

"You're right," he bit out in his anger, standing over her, "you are lucky I don't have a Brig to throw you into." He threw the photos into her lap. "Explain these to me. Now."

"I – Lydecker – I can't see properly – these damn seizures – I-I can't make out the images." She uttered tearfully, heart pounding.

Lydecker let out a breath, coming to his senses and reminding himself he would get nowhere with her if he didn't change tactic.

"What have you worked out, so far?" He bit out.

"O-only something about "a key", "the meek" and "a triumph". I'm still working on it… it's in a different dialect to what I have learnt." She kept her gaze downcast, uncomfortable.

"I spoke with your sister, not an hour ago," Lydecker told her measuredly, "and she didn't mention a thing."

"Well, it sounds pretty far-fetched," Jondy acknowledged, looking up at him with glassy eyes. "Without evidence."

"By the time you are done here," He instructed gesturing to the IV drips in each of her arms, "I want a full translation, that is an order".

"Sure," the X5 nodded. "If you can get me a pen and paper. Is Max ok?"

There was no mistaking her worried tone.

"She's to be as expected," came was the evasive reply, as the Colonel resumed his seat. "More importantly, President Clinton received the blessing from the AC in the early hours of this morning."

When Jondy looked Lydecker square in the eye, she couldn't help but notice a glint of excitement despite his deathly serious expression.

"We are at war with the global terrorist group known as 'Familiars'. Eyes Only is due to do a national broadcast at 22:00 while we infiltrate, noting it's on the shortest day of the year and we only have a small window under the cover of darkness."

Jondy swallowed down the bile the rose to the back of her throat his pronouncement.

"The Coming…" she whispered, mostly to herself, feeling sick to her stomach. "It's finally happening…"

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