"They've got the site locked down," Jessica said. "Setting up a decon station. Misty and I either go through it or pick a fight with two hundred cops—and whoever else is here."

Trish was leaning against the sliding door of the van, leaving it open so the seriously toxic gas from one of the bound men could escape.

"Jesus H. Christ," Trish replied. She looked at the two men. Were they connected with what Jessica and Misty found? Almost certainly. Even if they were in the dark about that part of it.

She had put her phone on speaker when Jess called, and her captive audience could hear every word.

"How bad is it?" Trish had asked earlier.

"Bad. He crawls into the SUV, breaks two glass tubes filled with deadly whatever, and dies a couple minutes later. Kara said there was shit growing out of his face."

"Who's Kara?" Trish asked.

"Doesn't matter. We got lucky. She found the site. He'd been there for going on three months. It was a warm September. They figure the inside of the SUV stayed warm enough for the virus to survive after dead guy number four croaked. The stuff on his face was some sort of..." Jess had to refer to her note book, "unconventional viral gene expression mechanism."

Trish's voice remained calm when she spoke. It was the only part of her that be described that way. Her skin was crawling. And she had a sudden need to wash her hands. "It was hunting for a host. A body to infect. A way to spread."

Jessica was making a mental note to buy a bigger hip flask as she spoke. "But there wasn't one, and it died in that SUV, just like the guy it killed."

"Who was that friend of Beth's? The one who went to help when the bomb in San Diego went off?"

"Beth kept calling her Elsa, but that was some sort of pet name. I must have heard her real name at the party at Luke's, but I don't remember it. I can find out."

"She'd know how the early patients that got infected presented. We need to know if it looked like this."

"It's worth a shot, but they all got the quick cure courtesy Captain Gorgeous. This guy cooked for days probably before the virus burned itself out.

"Captain—"

"Aric," Jessica interrupted. "And his fucking dog, probably."

"What do you have against him?"

"He's too good looking. It makes my skin itch."

"Just your skin?"

"Oh, screw you. We've got bigger problems. What's the plan?"

"Don't know yet. You?"

"I'm dry. I have to take a Silkwood Shower. Then Misty and I are heading home. Please tell me somebody else is gonna carry this fucking disaster the rest of the way across the goal line. I had enough of it the first time."

"I'm working on it now. And I have an idea."

"Good. Great. Seriously great, as long as it doesn't involve me."

"OK. But stay near your phone. I need to make a couple of calls."

"Got it," Jess replied before the call ended.

Trish looked at the two men who were laying on their sides looking back at her. "You two have no idea what whoever hired you got you involved in. Even you two don't look stupid enough to get anywhere near bioweapons."

The looks on both their faces told Trish that she was not mistaken.

"The second canister contained Batrachotoxin. The last one had the engineered virus," Beth said.

Trish was once again on speaker. Laurel was still ten minutes away. She had a half-hour head start over the rest of the posse, who were working on the final bits that Trish requested.

"Remind me again what Batrachotoxin is," Trish said.

Beth was reciting from memory, and did not take into account that not everyone studied organic chemistry and toxicology. It's weaponized Curare—extracted from poison dart frogs. It paralyzes your diaphragm, and you asphyxiate. There's no cure.

"How does it kill you?"

"It paralyzes your diaphragm. You asphyxiate."

"Jesus. Fast acting?"

"Depends on the potency. The stuff we found, one hundredth of a milligram would be lethal if you absorbed it through your skin."

"And the virus? How does that kill you?"

"Again, asphyxiation. Fluid and mucus build up in your lungs. Your blood clots abnormally, those clots break apart and can also end up in your lungs, or travel to your brain and cause a stroke."

Trish was sorry she asked. "You called it an engineered virus."

"Someone inserted Coronavirus genes into an Influenza genome. The new engineered virus is a multipartite genome. It has unique nucleotide sequences. It's designed to mutate faster than any antiviral or vaccine can be developed. But slow enough that it can spread rapidly. Elsa estimated that it had an R0 similar to measles. Something in the 14 to 16 range."

"Sounds bad," Trish said.

"Let's put it this way," Beth said as she looked at Kate, "The Curare would have killed him in less than five minutes. In that, it did him a very big favor. He should consider it a mercy killing compared to what the virus would have done."

Trish was nodding as she pretended to not be observing the two bound men and the fear that was growing on their faces. "So whether you get a quick agonizing death, or a slow, painful agonizing death depends on which one you're exposed to."

"Yup. In this guys case, it sounds like he broke both tubes at the same time as he was crawling through the SUV, and the Curare won. Lucky for him."

"OK. I think I'm up to speed. The others will be here in a few. Sorry to leave you short handed."

"We'll be fine. Not like we're used to a large team any way. Some of us aren't used to any sort of team."

"Was that crack aimed at me?" Kate asked.

"Why do you ask?" Beth replied innocently.

Trish felt the need to interrupt a sibling argument. "Anyway, circling back to weapons of mass destruction, everyone else is already filled in? They know what to do?"

"We gave them the sort version, but yeah, they know what to do. Just be careful, right? Remember, the thing they have in common is agonizing death."

Trish had been pacing back and forth in front of the open door, giving the two men inside the opportunity to hear every word. "I'll wear gloves or something."

Trish could not see the twin smiles on the sisters faces as Beth replied. "Christ. You're hopeless."

"So I been told, many times," Trish said sarcastically.

When Beth spoke again her tone was serious. "Just be careful. I've spent four months breaking you in, and I don't want all that to go to waste."

Trish laughed for almost ten seconds.

An hour's drive north, having just ended the call with Trish, Beth was not smiling.

"She has a plan. I think it's a good one," Kate said after Beth had ended the call with Trish. "At the very least, it puts us on our front foot. We get to go on the attack."

They had arrived at Bruce Wayne's home in Lake Forest thirty-five minutes after leaving their father's home in Winnetka. The conversation with Trish delayed their exit from Kate's Range Rover, as did their own discussion. Both women knew that as soon as they stepped through the large oak door front door that they would have lost the opportunity to speak in private.

"We will be an hour away from the action when Trish executes her plan," Beth reminded her. "Which is fine by me. Even thinking about that stuff gives me the creeps. I can't believe Caitlin and I were handling it in a trailer in the middle of a thunderstorm."

Kate came to her sister's defense. "That's because you didn't know what you were dealing with at the time. It's because of you two that the CDC knew what to do when the second one went up in flames."

"There wasn't anything they could do," Beth told her. "You know who did the heavy lifting on that? Aric."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked. She had heard that people had gotten sick, but that they were treated and they recovered. "The CDC said they treated everyone who got sick."

"They lied. Everyone who was suspected of being exposed, either directly or indirectly, were put in quarantine camps and were hooked up to IV's. But like I said, there's no cure for Batrachotoxin. There's no cure for the virus. And it kills really fast. Anyone caught in the direct explosion, or injured afterward by a piece of contaminated debris, died from the Curare. Everyone else that got sick after that was because of the virus. Aric spent two weeks in California visiting anyone who might have been infected. It was during the month that we didn't see each other after I...after I said what I said."

"After you told him that you loved him," Kate added softly.

Beth nodded, her fingers twisted together, knuckles white. Her gaze stayed locked on her folded hands, as if looking up would make her fears real. "Caitlin was there. In California. That was when she first met him. Her first impression of him was a man who was working himself to death. He looked terrible she said. I've never seen him like that. By the time our month was over he was fine again. Now...if it happens again, and a lot of people get sick...I'll die if I lose him. And I will lose him. He carries so much guilt. You don't know. He'll kill himself saving those people. He'll burn himself from the inside out, like a candle, shedding light by consuming itself, until there's nothing left."

"I thought," Kate started before realizing that she wasn't sure what she thought, "I thought that, you know...dark energy...limitless supply..."

"Yeah. Limitless power. But he's still just a man. And men break. He tells me there's a line I can't cross. But he has one too. And if he crosses it..."

Beth didn't finish her thought, but she didn't need to. Kate could see the pain and the fear on her face; fear of losing the man she loved.

The man she loved, Kate thought. Man. It was easy to forget that he was just a man. With a man's faults and flaws and, despite everything he could do, limitations.

"Hey," she said as she reached over and took Beth's hand, "we're not going to let that happen. OK? We are going to fix this before it gets anywhere near that bad. Promise."

Beth nodded her head again, which caused the tears welling in her eyes to run down her face. She smiled at her sister as she squeezed her hand. Kate wasn't sure if she imagined it, but she thought in that moment she heard an echo of Beth's voice in her head.

OK.

Laurel and Trish had moved the two men into a small building that was used to store equipment for the nearby softball field. When Laurel had been here last, still protecting the world's most famous actress, it had been summer. They'd had to make arrangements to have it all to themselves for filming. Now, in late November, it was deserted. Little chance of encountering anyone. Which was why she gave the address to Trish.

"They're here," Laurel said as she nodded her head at the approaching vehicles. The two of them watched as the new arrivals traced the same serpentine path that Trish and Laurel had driven. It took almost a minute for both vehicles to come to a stop next to the car that Laurel was still driving from the morning.

"She's not going to miss it?" Trish had asked when Laurel had finally gotten out of Kristen's sedan.

"She's not allowed outside until this is solved," Laurel had answered.

Two of the faces that exited the GMC Sierra Crew Cab at the same time as John Dorazio were familiar to Laurel, but not to Trish.

"Who the fuck are they," Trish asked as she got her first look at the two beautiful, deadly women, "and are either of them single?"

"Down, girl." Laurel said as the trio approached. "No jumping."

At the same time, Barbara Gordon and Detective Meg Chander were making a big show out of removing a metal briefcase from the back of Barbara's Jeep.

Method actors, Trish thought since the two bound men couldn't see the performance yet, be the part.

Still, never hurts to warm up.

"Stop jostling it or we all dead! Christ!"

"I'm trying, but my hands keep shaking!" Barbara said.

"For fuck sake," Trish answered before walking away from the open door only to return a moment later with the case, which she lay on the bare concrete floor in clear view of the two men.

"Should you put it that close to them?" Laurel asked.

"They're gonna be a lot closer in a minute," Trish said as she lay the case down only to rotate it 180 degrees. Trish opened it to reveal two glass tubes, each filled with a colored liquid.

"Why color the water?" Barbara had asked Beth once the plan had been revealed to her.

"Trish doesn't think either one of these guys is that quick on the uptake. There's scientific evidence that most people react the same way to certain colors, and certain smells. The dark brown one has tea leave oil mixed in, the deep red one has spiced vinegar," Beth explained.

The two men were now staring at those two glass tubes. Each clear glass container was capped at one end. Both rested comfortably in a Styrofoam liner. Trish had to turn away quickly to stop herself from laughing as terror spread across the men's faces.

Meg had begged off any sort of acting. She feared that her reaction would be similar to what would occur if she had to notify one of the men of a death in the family. Her contribution, delivered as she bit her tongue furiously to stop herself from laughing or smiling, ended with her handing Trish a full face organic vapor respirator and a pair of heavy rubber gloves.

"You're gonna give them a chance to come clean first, right?" John Dorazio asked. He'd been given the basic outline, but he was free wheeling his lines, so Trish's reactions would be genuine.

"I was gonna pick one of them and rub his face in weaponized Curare and let his buddy watch him die, before letting ASA Lance question the other one."

"Then what?" John said as he looked at the two men. CPD was a big organization, with over twelve thousand men and women. John was happy that he didn't recognize either man.

"Two guys, two vials," Trish said as she looked at the two men, raised her eyebrows and cocked her head.

"We can't leave one of them alive, not after what we do here," Sandra said in her dark voice that held real violence, "but if he talks, he earns himself a quick and painless death, rather than the torture of slow suffocation." Her accent somehow made her words more threatening.

"You're too forgiving, Wu-San," Helena said with a wide smile, "unless..."

Helena paused as Sandra looked at her and smiled.

"What?" Meg asked.

"Her definition of quick and painless," Helena said as Sandra Wu-San smiled. "She's going to kill him in hand to hand combat."

"We're not here for you to play with your food, Sandra," Laurel said with a roll of her eyes. "Some of us got up pretty fucking early, and I'd like to get this done so I can go home."

"How long for the virus to kill him?" John Dorazio asked.

"A day," Trish said as she looked at the two men. One was working frantically to remove the duct tape from his mouth. "Maybe less. Neither one of them is the picture of health."

"Hell of a way to die," John said as he looked at each man in turn. "Middle of nowhere. Gasping for breath. Staring at your dead buddy. Knowing in a few hours you're gonna look just like him."

"Actions have consequences," Trish said as she pulled on the rubber gloves and positioned the mask on the top of her head, ready to be pulled down into place. "Who's gonna hold his leg down?"

"That's me," Barbara said as she held up her right hand. "Don't know yet who tried to kill Meg. So one of these assholes will have to do. Until I can hunt down those other motherfuckers."

"Anyone got a quarter?" Laurel asked.

"I haven't had actual cash since 2019," Trish said as she stepped closer to the case and picked up and inspected each vial.

John reached into his pocket and produced a handful of change. "From my morning coffee and bagel, which those other shitheads interrupted. One of these guys should die just for that."

"Which one?"

John flipped the coin and caught it again before turning it over on his other hand. His right index finger pointed to the man on the left.

"Heads."

"Heads it is," Trish said as she stepped in front of the man. Like his partner, had been lying on his side on the cold concrete floor the entire time. His hands were bound behind him with the same heavy duty zip ties that were wrapped around his ankles. The ties that both men had intended to use on Kristen Wolf. Trish dragged the man by his feet into the center of the room before returning to the case containing the two filled tubes.

She gave the man one last look before pulling the mask down over her face. The mask began to fog as her damp breath flowed through the filter. He began to scream something behind his duct tape gag. Barbara took that as her cue to step up and grab his bound feet. He began to kick violently as Trish selected the tube with the deep brown liquid inside. Meg turned a laugh into a bout of coughing. The lights outside the building hummed with an electric rhythm reminiscent of an electric chair. Laurel knew everything was fake. But in that moment it felt all too real.

Trish wasn't sure he could hear her through the mask. She didn't care. She leaned in, voice steady. "Enough. You want to die screaming, or do you want to die quick?"

She placed the tube beside his thrashing head. A bead of sweat slid down his temple. He wasn't just afraid—he was already seeing his own death. Beth reached out and slowly removed the tape from the man's mouth. She gripped the hair at the back of his head and began to force it towards the tube.

"Bill Van Dyke! Lieutenant Bill Van Dyke!" The man was gasping now, his eyes wild. "Works for Freddy Giancona!"

The silence in the room was instant, absolute. That name meant something to all of them.