Agent Salamander opened one eye cautiously, but saw only darkness. He didn't know where he was or how he'd got there, although the pounding headache and half-remembered noise behind him just before he lost consciousness pointed strongly to 'kidnap'. He knew there hadn't been anything in the Words that might lead to it, which implied... what? He knew his partner wouldn't have done this – Kayleigh might be insane, but she was more prone to random sunbathing than violence – and there were hardly going to be any other teams in the Story, so... freelancers? He'd heard about that sort of thing, but had never really taken the prospect seriously

I'm sorry, Agent, I don't know your name.

Sal relaxed. Whatever had happened, it was obviously over. That was a Flower, which meant he was home and safe, even if he didn't recognise the specific voice. "Salamander, sir. Department of – ow – Bad Slash. What..." He coughed, feeling several gaps in his teeth. "What happened?"

That's a very good question. The answer, I'm afraid, is: We did.

Salamander frowned. "Sir?"

Nendil, the Flower said, again.

Salamander opened his mouth to ask What? but was prevented by a foot impacting with his stomach. He tried to roll with the hit, but definitely felt something give. He groaned, curling up, but that only brought his arm into Nendil's range. A heavy boot slammed down on his wrist, which shattered with a sickening crack. Salamander whimpered in pain, pulling the damaged limb to him, and waited for the next blow.

It never came. Instead, a cheerful voice – a woman's – asked, "My turn, sir?"

No, not yet, the Flower – whatever it was – replied. Be a dear and open the curtains, though.

Apparently she did, as Salamander's eyes – closed though they were against the pain – were hit by dazzling light. As he waited for them to adjust, he tried to surreptitiously shift his wrist to a slightly more comfortable position; it didn't work, and he decided, in a blurry sort of way, that there wasn't really much you could do to make broken bones comfortable. When he thought his eyes were ready, he opened them again.

What he saw was mostly feet. The closest two were clad in heavy boots, one of which seemed to be bloodstained, and Salamander realised with a sinking feeling that it was his blood, the same blood that formed a sticky pool around him. There were several other pairs, wearing a range of different shoes, but the only moving set were bare, delicate, and walking towards what seemed to be a desk.

Oh, do turn him over, Nendil, the Flower – but could it really be a Flower, ordering things like this? – said. One of the boots swung forward, and Sal flinched away. He didn't flinch far enough, however, and what felt like a steel toecap hit his left shoulder, rolling him over onto his back and, from the feel of it, dislocating the shoulder. Salamander winced, but made no sound, and managed to blink away the tears in order to see his captors.

Standing over him, the owner of the boots – Nendil – was a tall, black-haired elf with hard grey eyes. Noldo, Sal thought, and, with deadly certainty, Kinslayer. He made Salamander shiver just to look at him, although part of that was certainly down to his actions – Sal had never much liked people who injured him. Despite – or perhaps because of – the obvious danger Nendil presented, Salamander's gaze was drawn away to the pair at the desk. The bare feet belonged to a dark-haired woman who looked to be in her late twenties, with startlingly blue eyes and a disturbingly innocent smile. Her attention was focussed on the occupant of the desk, which appeared to be a large white fungus of some sort.

He's boring me, the Fungus said. Nen-

"No!" Salamander exclaimed as the elf lifted a foot. "Sir, please!" The effort shifted something in his chest, and he gasped at the pain.

All right. Nendil lowered his foot again, not showing any sign of his feelings on the matter.

"Thank you, sir," Salamander babbled. "I promise you-"

Don't bore me again, Agent, the Fungus interrupted. Do you know who we are?

Sal blinked, stopping short. The group were clad in black, save for their silver sashes, and were led by a Plant, but he didn't know of any department which used a cat as its flashpatch. He also didn't know of any department which kidnapped and beat their fellow Agents, but you heard some strange things about DAVD when you worked in Bad Slash, or especially when your partner was Kayleigh. Something in their attitude reminded him of what little he'd seen of the DIA, but they didn't have an emblem at all, and anyway, they didn't torture.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said at last, "I don't. Er... should I?"

"Not if we're doing our job right," a high-pitched voice called behind another of the figures, and a small glowing dot darted up to the ceiling before dropping down to the desk. It was a fairy, Salamander saw with some surprise, and the others seemed to be leaning away from it. "No one's got away that I know of."

"Hush, Flicks," said Nendil in a surprisingly gentle voice. "He might have been around before we left, after all."

"No, I'm new," said Salamander absently, and then, "Left? I didn't know anyone had left..." He trailed off with a wince as his shoulder protested again.

"Then you weren't paying attention," the fairy – Flicks – snapped. "Even we know that Thorntree and that partner of hers are gone."

"No, yes, but..." Sal tried to clear his mind, and succeeded in part. "I meant, a group. Like you."

It was years ago, the Fungus said with deliberate vagueness. Now that we're on the subject, though, how are our old... friends?

"I'm sorry," Salamander replied warily, "like I said, I'm new. I don't know who was around so long ago."

Oh, no need to get into specifics, the Fungus said airily. Just general background. For example, how are the Agents these days?

Salamander tried to wave his hand in a dismissive gesture, but found himself occupied with screaming over his forgotten, shattered forearm. As soon as he could see straight and breathe again, he managed to say, "The same as usual. Overworked, not paid."

I see. Well, we wouldn't have stood for that, needless to say. Everyone was well paid when we were there.

Sal raised an eyebrow. "You must have been gone a long time," he commented, forgetting both pain and peril in his astonishment.

Yes, well. What of the Sunflower Official? He's still in charge, I suppose.

"In charge?" Salamander shook his head very slightly. "I read this in the Handbook. There's a Board, a committee of some kind. He's on it, but he's not in charge."

Nendil looked at him, startled. "The PPC is a... democracy now?" He didn't bother to restrain the disgust in his face or voice.

"Um. Not really." Salamander considered shrugging, but decided against it. "I don't know, really. The Board runs things, but..."

"Ah, he doesn't know anything!" Flicks exclaimed. "You should have picked someone older, Twp."

"The older ones are all too good," replied a man-sized rodent which seemed to have lost an eye in some accident. "They've got better since we left."

Well, said the Fungus, cutting off any reply the fairy might have made, it seems that our guest has outlived what usefulness he had.

Salamander looked up in shock, the pain of his injuries – and the memory of their callous infliction – rushing back into his mind. "Sir!" he protested weakly, clutching at his hand.

I suppose he has been marginally helpful, the Fungus admitted. Have your fun, Ontic, but... let him live.

Sal opened his mouth to protest again, but the barefoot woman skipped over and had a hand over his mouth before he could utter a sound. She grinned down at his terrified face. "We're going to have such fun together," she whispered, and lifted her knife.

Chapter One - Fraying at the Seams

Do not be alarmed. There has been a momentary interruption in power flow. Please continue your duties as best you are able.

"That's nice. That's lovely." Steve Dimond kicked his console. "That's just what I always wanted."

"Well, look on the bright side," Agent Selene suggested. "You didn't really want to go on a mission, anyway."

"Nor did I want to sit around here waiting," Steve muttered savagely. "It'd be one thing if Constance were- sorry." He sighed. "Sorry."

Narto Telyan glanced between the two. "Should we go?" he muttered to Selene. She shook her head and took a step forward, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"I know how you feel," she said gently. "I'm the same way with Dafydd. It's not that I liked the guy, but I was used to him. We got on each other's nerves, but in a familiar way. Right?"

Steve nodded slightly. "Right. And then he goes and runs off with my partner, leaving us both floundering."

"Well, at least I got assigned someone new immediately," Selene said, glancing at Narto. "But you... it must be hard on you."

"It is," Steve admitted with a sigh. "And now this... I mean, how do you manage to accidentally cut power to all of HQ?"

"It's probably a problem in DoDAEG," Narto offered, and then blushed as the pair turned to look at him. "Sorry."

"No, no," Selene said, "go on. Dee-oh-dayeg?"

"The Department of Dead Author Electricity Generation," Narto filled in. "They, uh, make use of all those authors spinning in their graves, you know? Power HQ with them." He took in their disbelieving looks. "Terri told me!" he said defensively.

Selene shook her head. "That Archivist is a bad influence on you," she said. "Filling your head with technobabble..."

"Well, it's always the way," Steve put in. "My sister was just as bad, she was a Secretary for Bad Slash before she got transferred, and she was always telling me the most bizarre stories..." He shook his head. "Heh, well, anyway..."

"Anyway," Selene said, breaking the awkward silence that followed – both she and Narto knew that Steve's sister had been killed in action nine months earlier – do you think we should head over to this DoDAEG and see what's gone wrong?"

"I don't really know how to find it," Narto said apologetically. "Terri only really mentioned it in passing, so..."

"Oh, well, never mind." Straightening up abruptly, Selene looked around. "So, Steve, hypothetical question: you're stuck waiting in your RC during a power outage with a pair of Agents you barely know. What do you do to entertain yourself?"

Nendil Morifëa sat on a convenient tombstone and waited patiently. The pile of books they'd made on Tolkien's tomb would have made for good reading, but there was no temptation for him. For one thing, he knew that they were fundamental to the Black Cats' plan to regain their proper station. None of the Cats would jeopardise that, not even Ontic, crazy though she was, and certainly not Nendil. Far too much was riding on it.

For another, it was all his history anyway.

A few stones over, Twp'atwt stood up abruptly. "Something's gone wrong," he said.

"Don't be such a worrywart, Twp," Ontic said, in such a reasonable tone that Nendil looked up sharply out of sheer astonishment. But it was all right, she was simply engrossed in whatever it was she was doing – counting daisies, it looked like.

"But she's taking too long," the Pine Marten grumbled, his claws tapping nervously against the stone. "Those systems should be easy to take out. If we wait too much longer, they'll send someone up here and find us."

"That's why we're armed," Nendil said dryly. "And besides, how are they going to portal here? They have no power, that's the point of the whole exercise."

"Zhat's what zhey vant you to zhink," Lady Zhevago put in caustically. "I vould not put it past zhem to deceive us in zhe hopes of catching us all at vunce."

"That's because you've never met them," Mkellin said languidly. "You've never even set foot in HQ, how would you know what those idiots would do?"

Lady Zhevago drew herself up to her full height – she, of course, had never sat down. "Vell," she began, but Nendil had had enough.

"That'll do," he said mildly, glancing between the two. They settled down, and Nendil entertained himself by examining the contrast between the two. Zhevago – who was always Lady Zhevago to her face – was a new recruit, only with the Cats for two years, but had made a big impression. Higher-born even than Nendil himself, she insisted on adorning her uniform with as many fripperies as she could. Nendil would have liked to clamp down on this – lace and frills were surely not appropriate for the Black Cats – but the Bracket Fungus assured him that, so long as they were in black and silver, she could decorate herself as much as she liked. As she was positively lethal with every weapon they could offer her – and several things that weren't weapons at all – Nendil had quietly decided that it was best to humour her.

Mkellin, at the opposite end of the spectrum, was one of the longest-serving Cats left alive, having joined up when the group was formed as the PPC's Department of Internal Security. He came from some obscure planet where, it was said, the trees moved as you walked in their midst – a story most of the Cats discounted, but Nendil accepted, having once spent a week or more lost in the Old Forest back in Middle-earth. Whatever the case, he and his people had almost supernatural scouting abilities, which had been completely useless in HQ, but had meant Mkellin rose to high rank very quickly once the Cats went into exile. That meant he was constantly irritating the status-conscious – such as Lady Zhevago – by his incredibly laid-back attitude. He, too, wore clothes other than the standard Cat uniform – his sash was more black than silver, and he was rarely seen without his camouflage cloak – but again, the BF had allowed it, and Nendil saw no reason to argue.

Time passed, and even Nendil began to grow worried, though it could hardly have been more than an hour since they began their operation. At last, a tiny portal hummed open in the air above the grave, and the fairy Flickerbright flew out, followed by three others of her species. As the portal snapped shut, she hovered in front of Nendil's face. "Done!"

"You're sure?" the elf asked. Flicks snorted.

"Your memory's going, Nen. I helped install those things, I can certainly take them out again. Not that it was too tricky – I don't think they'd been serviced since we left."

"Of course not," Mkellin put in. "There wasn't anyone left who knew they were even there, and you didn't think their DIA could have found them, did you?"

"Very true," Nendil agreed, "but now that our mission is complete, we really ought to get away from here. While unlikely, it's possible that our enemy will have a portal device working again by now-"

"I told you so," Twp said, baring his teeth. "If you'd listened-"

"-and if they do," Nendil continued over the top of him, "we want them to be suitably puzzled by what they find here. So come on." He looked around at his small team, the force that had been left to guard the grave while the rest of the Cats had returned to their base. "Everyone grab as many books as they can, and make it fast – I think we'll need several trips."

The trick, as ever, was silence. The Black Cats – the DIS – were generally unobservant if they thought themselves safe. And here, in their most secure base, they were as lax as they ever were. If their command group had been there – Nendil, or the stealth expert Mkellin – there would have been Words spoken, but of course they were absent, off on their mission to start the destruction of HQ.

Of course, that didn't mean Tango Dioxide allowed herself to get careless.

For seven years she'd followed the Cats through the Multiverse, resting only when they did, stealing from them when she could. She made no attempts to stop their activity, even when they started kidnapping and killing Agents again – far too dangerous, too big a risk. But she knew, had always known, that one day they would launch an attack on the PPC itself. That was what she was going to prevent.

And now it had started. Whatever they were up to in Oxford was the beginning, their first sally in a war that the other side wasn't even aware of. She had to change that; had to get into HQ and warn them about the oncoming storm. She still wasn't quite sure how.

She'd tried before to get in, using stolen Cat portal technology. It hadn't worked – there was some sort of barrier protecting HQ that stopped portals being opened to its halls from anywhere but inside. The consoles, and the portal generators that made up much of their workings, were fine. The Remote Activators worked through those. But Cat portals didn't open at all, or defaulted to just outside the walls, in one of the places it had walls.

Now, though, things might be different. She couldn't imagine the Cats trying to storm an actual door, so their current mission must be to turn the shielding systems off. She didn't know how – it seemed like a classic case of opening a box with the crowbar found inside – but it was the only way they could hope to succeed. And that meant she could get in, too...

Slowly, very slowly, Tango began to shuffle backwards. Her ragged clothes made no sound as they shifted over the grass of the hilltop. Her hair, naturally red, was stained with mottled blacks and dark greens, her pale skin – less pale now, with seven years of exposure – similarly darkened. If any Cats should happen to look up, they would see a shadow, if that. There was no risk.

There would be soon.

The lights flickered back into existence and Veminta Fincaran let out a sigh of relief. "At last," she muttered.

Her partner grinned slightly. "You too?" she asked. Vemi nodded.

"It's silly, I know, but being stuck here in the dark, I couldn't help thinking of that time..."

"In Überwald," Penny finished for her. "Yes, I remember. And even though we know that HQ's not a death-trap castle..."

"... yeah." Vemi sighed again. "Well, that was a long time ago. And we got our man."

"And got paid." Penny glanced at the console's screen, now back to life. "Speaking of which, looks like the SO's got another contract for us."

"Yet another 'Sue, I suppose." Vemi shook her head. "I don't know; I sometimes wish we'd just stayed in Ankh. It was a lot less monotonous."

"You know that wasn't an option," Penny chided gently. "It was all we could do to get Lord Downey to let us... what was it?"

"Go on a long-term assignment to a similar but not competing organisation to the Guild, for the purposes of improving their training standards," Vemi recited from memory. "I don't need reminding, Pen, I know all about it."

"You brought it up," Penny pointed out mildly. "But anyway, this contract... it's an interesting one."

Vemi leaned over and looked at the screen. Her eyes widened. "Wow. You think he added a couple of extra zeros?"

"Must have," Penny agreed. "No 'Sue's worth that much – not with the PPC's lack of resources. And it is a 'Sue."

"Hmm, hmm..." Scrolling down the screen, Vemi nodded. "Right, no, I see." She tapped a line. "She's already sent three teams running, and killed one of the Agents. She's nasty."

"Do we want to take the job, then? I mean, if she's that dangerous..."

Vemi shrugged. "We're Assassins, trained by the best to be the best. Why should we worry about an amateur 'Sue? No," she added, "I'm more worried about that power cut."

"Why?" Penny inquired, startled. "It's over, isn't it?"

"True, but we don't know what caused it. It could happen again, and I have no desire to get trapped in some backwater universe."

Penny glanced at the console again. "Oh, we might not have a choice," she said. "This contract was sent before the outage, and I've got a little blinking light here that says we've got a new message from after."

Vemi raised an eyebrow. "Well, let's hear it."

All Agents are required to report to their Head of Department as soon as possible. All Agents are required to report to their Head of Department as soon as possible. This is not optional.

Vemi scowled. "All-consoles message, was it?"

"Mmm... yes, looks like. Should've played automatically, but our privacy settings caught it."

"Pity they didn't catch the earlier one." Vemi thought for a moment. "All right, so we go and see the SO. Agreed?"

"Well, we could head off to look for Lord Downey instead..." Penny grinned sheepishly at Vemi's look.

The brown-haired girl shook her head. "You're impossible. And that doesn't even work, he said Department, not Guild. Now come on, if the Sunflower wants to see us, we'd better get moving."

"Yes," Penny agreed, slipping her shoes on. "His office is going to get very crowded."

The woman stood in the falling snow, hood held tightly against the wind. "We're going to have to move on," she said, not turning her head.

"Have they found us again, then?" her companion asked, voice muffled by the scarf around his face. "I see nothing."

The woman snorted. "As if they'd ever think of coming here. No, it's... well, this." She waved a gloved hand through the air.

The other stepped closer. "It's a bit cold, true," he admitted, "but that's no reason to go on the run again."

"It'll get worse, though." The woman shook her head. "I never intended for us to stay here, regardless; this was just a temporary hideout."

"But where will we go?" the other asked. "If we use the portal again, they'll be on us like a shot – you know they only missed us this time because of the explosives. We can't risk that."

"We don't need to," the woman reassured him. "We're going to walk. It's not all that far to go."

"But where?" the man insisted. "You know how much activity there is in this world these days. We'd be spotted by one side or the other, for certain."

"Not everywhere... or everywhen", the woman said. "I didn't just move us over here, I took us back. It's a long time before the War, and there's a nice little town that should be just right for us... destroyed a few years back, rebuilt, and never touched on in Canon again."

"Sounds perfect," the man agreed. "What's the catch?"

The woman shrugged. "Some nine hundred miles and a mountain range or two. Think you can handle it?"

"Of course," the man said in an amused tone. "It's only walking, after all."

Chapter Two - In Place of Proof

The small pop in a corridor far from the nerve-centre of HQ went entirely unobserved; the hallways was empty, so no-one saw the dark figure appear, unannounced, in mid-step and out of nowhere. There was another pop of displaced air, and Tango Dioxide stood in PPC HQ once more.

The blue light that accompanies, and to most people defines, an opening portal is not, though few are aware, an intrinsic feature of the technology. After 'serious concerns' were raised about possible disastrous incidents with invisible portals back in the very early days of the PPC, the glow was added to the instruments in the consoles by the short-lived Department of Health and Safety. It was never removed, and when the DIS absconded with samples to build their own, they weren't even aware that it was optional. They never did find out.

Tango did.

She looked around, brushing a clump of dirty hair away from her face and wishing she'd had a chance to clean up. Camouflage was all well and good in the wilderness of Middle-earth, but for convincing HQ at large of her sanity and seriousness – which hadn't exactly gone down well last time she'd been a herald of danger, and she'd been clean then – it was somehow lacking. Still, she thought with a wry grin, at least they won't think I'm a 'Sue.

"Anything?"

Mkellin looked up as Nendil stopped beside him, and grimaced. "Difficult to say. These... these so-called scouts were off getting drunk during half the mission, and the rest... well, frankly, they couldn't spot an army if it camped on their collective doorstep."

"Ungwë." The elf shook his head. "I thought you'd got them whipped into shape by now, Kell."

"So did I," Mkellin said ruefully. "When I'm around, they're almost as good as anything I could find back home, and when I'm not... well, they're still usually the same." He shrugged. "General pre-mission excitement?"

"Not good enough," Nendil declared with a quick head-shake. "Report them to the Bracket Fungus; they will not be participating in the operation."

Mkellin raised an eyebrow and watched him for a moment, but then shrugged and nodded. "All right, will do. Have you got any leads on those two rogues yet?"

Nendil suppressed a small smile. Mkellin prided himself – justly so – on being able to track anything, even through portals. Losing those two was a blow, and if he hadn't been so important to the Cats, he'd be off hunting them down even now. But unfortunately... "I'm afraid not. They're still a wild-card. But we'll know if they try to portal anywhere, they won't catch us by surprise. I promise."

Mkellin sighed. "I guess you're right. And besides, there's not much two people can do to mess up this operation, right?"

"Right," Nendil said grimly, and walked away.

Finding someone to convince was taking a lot more effort than Tango had anticipated, and she was beginning to get angry. In the time she'd been wandering HQ, no less than seven Agents had turned and run away from her when she started talking. She understood the impulse, but she had hoped that the modern PPC might look for at least a little courage in its Agents. Three of them had been Assassins.

When the eighth turned a corner and walked towards her, she was too fed up to even look for a flashpatch. "You!" she called instead.

The Agent stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Me?" he asked.

"Yes, you. Do you want to die horribly?"

He gave her a level gaze. "No. I can't say I do."

Tango smiled grimly. "Then perhaps you'll listen to me. There is a vast army preparing to invade HQ; unless you listen to me, this Organisation will be utterly destroyed within days. Have I caught your interest yet?"

"Indeed you have," the man said evenly. "I think you should come with me."

Something in his tone or his face made her frown. "Wait, what...?"

Hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. The instinctive backwards kick failed to land, and then she was securely trapped. She glared at the Agent as he walked towards her; her eyes searched quickly for his flashpatch but found only plain black fabric. "What is this?" she snarled.

"This is a security operation," the man said calmly. "We received reports that you were wandering around threatening the PPC, and we cannot allow such a danger to the fabric of this Organisation. I'm very sorry, but we're going to have to take you into custody... whoever you are."

Tango stared at him. Oh dear sweet Valar... what have they done?

When Nendil reached Tinco Division's sector of the camp, he found Flickerbright and her infiltration team already back in place. "Hey, Nen," the fairy called, darting over the heads of several Cats and hovering before him. "We ready yet?"

"I'm just doing the final checks," Nendil assured her, "then we'll be off. Any problems here?"

"Nah, not many," Flicks replied. "One squad managed to lose their Remote Activator, but they're a pretty useless bunch anyway."

Nendil frowned. "Are they by any chance on the edge of the camp?"

Flicks gave him a surprised look. "Yeah, actually, they are. How did you... oh. Oh, no no no."

"My thoughts exactly." Nendil scowled. "If someone's started interfering... I have to check the portal records." He turned and walked off towards the Bracket Fungus' tent, Flicks buzzing over his head.

"Who do you think it was?" the fairy asked, shedding dust in her concern. Nendil flicked a glare at her and she reigned in her emotions, the poison powder ceasing to fall.

"I've no idea," Nendil replied after a few moments. "We've had a few incidents along those lines, usually inconsequential pieces of technology, but never anything big enough to get Mkellin on it. This..." He scowled. "Whoever it is, if they portal to HQ, they could ruin everything."

"Then let's make sure they didn't, eh?"

"Good girl. Come on, then."

"—got it completely wrong! I'm not threatening you with—"

"Oh, you're just doing it for fun? Let me tell you—"

"That's not what I meant! I'm deadly serious, I—"

"'Deadly' being the operative term!"

"Look, you patronising little--!"

All right, what's all this shouting about?

Agent Hazelhead of the Department of Internal Affairs looked up, trying to avoid the prisoner's angry – but now thankfully mute – glare. "Sorry, ma'am, but she's being..."

Intractable. Yes, so I see. Have you considered allowing her to take a shower?

Hazelhead blinked. "Ma'am?"

I didn't think so, the Tiger Lily said, with a disapproving tilt of her petals. She looked over at the prisoner. What's she even done?

"Nothing!" the woman snarled. Hazelhead shrugged.

"She was roaming HQ declaring that she was about to call down an army on the PPC. We thought it best that we bring her in."

"I told you," the prisoner grated, "I wasn't threatening, I was warning. If you would only listen to me-"

Wait. The Tiger Lily leant forward. Don't I know you?

The woman blinked, taken aback. "I don't... you don't look familiar, no."

So you're PPC, at least. Interesting. But no, I think I encountered you once...

The prisoner shrugged. "I'm Tango Dioxide. DMS, then DAVD. Then I... left."

The Lily's petals folded in puzzlement. You were transferred after the Evermind incident, and then you vanished when... The Flower's voice trailed off, and then she whirled to face Agent Hazelhead. Lock her away. Immediately.

Tango jumped to her feet, shouting. Hazelhead stared. "Ma'am, we don't even have a prison, what-?"

Make one, the Tiger Lily said sharply. This woman stands accused of multiple murder of PPC Agents, and attempted assault on the security and fabric of HQ, the two most heinous crimes we acknowledge. For our safety and hers, she must be isolated... until we can prove guilt or innocence, or if not that... forever.

There is a room which nobody visits. Years ago it was the site of evil untold and untellable. When the evil was cast out, it became a memorial, a monument, a mausoleum. It was the most frequented place in HQ at the time, but people's memories fade, and the record of the past, of what was done and what they brought upon themselves, is never a popular sight. So it was that the Tomb of the Unknown PPC Agent fell into obscurity, darkness filling its cavernous space and dust lying deep on the floor. The names of the dead faded; all save one, which gleamed ever bright.

There is more than one way to journey from place to place instantaneously. By far the safest is the portal used by both PPC and Cats, but woe unto those who forget what these marvels of technology are at the core: they are plotholes, stabilised and prolonged beyond their natural life, but plotholes nonetheless. And plotholes are a natural phenomenon.

In the depths of HQ the air is still, and the darkness heavy in the Tomb of the Unknown PPC Agent. Then a soft, impossible breeze stirs the dust, the darkness seems to lighten, though no light enters, and there is a whisper of birdsong. Something in the dark air seems to flex, to move...

... and a figure falls through. Clad in skins tied loosely together, his skin and hair coated with dirt so deeply ingrained that no amount of washing in streams could get it out, he waits for a moment in the dark, and then rises unsteadily to his feet. Despite the dirt, were there enough light to view by, his hair would still show a hint of its natural azure...

Blue Photon, once (so long ago) an Assassin of the PPC, looked up at the great dark slab before him. His eyes, accustomed to penetrating the darkest forest, caught the glimmer of the faded names, and came at last to rest upon the one that shone still. The starlight illuminated his face, and glittered in his newborn tears.

Imbolc Telyan.

Chapter Three - Going Back

"This is ridiculous."

Agent Hazelhead shrugged. "It's in the rules."

Tango resisted the urge to scream. "What rules? You don't even have a proper prison, you're sticking me in a broom closet!"

Hazelhead's teeth ground together. "There are only a few crimes which warrant imprisonment. Things like letting Daleks or the Borg know of the existence of the Multiverse. Or endangering the PPC at large. Most Agents wouldn't do those things anyway, so we don't need a prison."

"But you're still sticking me in one. Don't I get to appeal or something?"

Hazelhead shrugged. "Depends on whether the Tiger Lily decides to class you as an Agent or not. Agents get an interview by, well, I guess it'd be the Board of Flowers for this case."

Tango blinked. "The Board of...?"

The DIA Agent rolled his eyes. "Old folks," he muttered. Tango bristled, but he went on. "Board of Flowers, nine Department Heads who collectively run the PPC. The Tiger Lily's one, the Sunflower Official – I suppose you've heard of him? – is another..."

"Oh. Like the mysterious somebody way back." Tango shook her head. "Not relevant. When do I get to see them?"

"I told you, it depends. For now, you stay in your cell and take your few remaining rights seriously."

"But it's ridiculous," Tango insisted, back on-topic. "Everyone I know is bound to be dead by now. And you've as much as said they're not going to be able to do anything regardless."

Hazelhead shrugged. "It doesn't matter; it's in the rules. All prisoners, regardless of accusations against them, are to receive one, bracket 1 close bracket, telephone call or equivalent to a person of their choice, said call not to exceed five minutes in length, semicolon, this right does not repeat not include the right to privacy, to-"

"All right, all right." Tango closed her eyes for a moment. "Right. Blue Photon."

Blue had sobbed himself out, and was on his knees before the Monolith, head bowed, when he felt a whisper of motion against the back of his neck. Instincts honed by seven years on the run – five of them almost entirely insane – kicked in, and he span around, lashing out with his foot. There was nothing there. His spin continued, out of control, bringing him down again in a small crumpled heap. From within the tangle of arms and legs his voice came: "Ow."

There was another whisper of air, sustained now, and a voice seemed to be entwined in it, soft as a thought. "I didn't mean to startle you..."

Blue froze. "... I'm hearing things again."

"Not quite," the voice said, still quiet, but growing stronger. "Except literally."

"I must be," Blue mumbled. "You can't be there. You can't be... you're dead."

"Do you remember your home?" the voice said, seeming to float around him. "Sitting in front of the fire as a small boy, wrapped in your favourite blanket, listening to your mother tell the tale of Tristan and Isolde? Of how, at the last, their love transcended the bonds of death itself?"

"I remember," Blue whispered, raising his head at last and looking at the figure before him, dimly glowing in the dark cavern.

"It's not just a story," Imbolc Telyan told him sadly.

"Hey, Nen!"

Nendil nodded in response to Ontic's cheerful wave. "Ontic. Is he in there?"

"Where else would he be?" Ontic retorted, jumping down from her perch on the wagon that had previously carried the Cats' portal generator. "Come on, it's this way."

"What, she thinks you don't know?" Flickerbright muttered. Nendil hushed her and followed the human woman into the Bracket Fungus' tent.

Portal generators required fairly exotic equipment, and the Black Cats had only managed to build two. One of those – along with the three they'd originally stolen from the PPC – had been destroyed by Mkellin's rogues some time ago, so until a new one could be constructed, the Bracket Fungus kept the last one very much in his sight. Ah, Nendil, he said from his desk, have you completed your checks?

Nendil grimaced. "I've not gotten to Parma and Calma yet, sir," he said apologetically. "Something more urgent came up."

More urgent than our final victory over the PPC? the BF asked curiously. This should be interesting.

"Not exactly," Nendil said. "It's more a danger to that. I have reason to believe someone is stealing portal technology from us."

The Fungus shifted, startled. The rogues?

"Not them. They have PPC-linked Remote Activators, what would they need with ours? No, we're looking for someone we've not seen before... a new factor."

Dangerous. Very dangerous. If whoever it is should take word to the Protectors...

"My thoughts exactly. With that in mind... I think we should push the attack forward."

"What?!" Flicks exclaimed. "We're not ready!"

Nendil looked at her. "You said you were."

"Not me," the fairy said irritably. "Twp. He's having some trouble with Parma."

He'll have to deal with it, the Bracket Fungus declared. Nendil is correct – we are in danger of losing everything if we do not move at once. Flickerbright, return to your troops. Nendil, Ontic, go to Twp and Lady Zhevago – in five minutes time, our attack on PPC HQ, and our final redemption and victory, begins!

"Oh, for crying out-- Palaver. DMS."

After a few useless names, Agent Hazelhead had taken the trouble of bringing a small portable console into Tango's cell, and was now checking the HQ Directory for each Agent she suggested. "Dead, I'm afraid," he said. "Killed by the DIS, it says."

Tango closed her eyes, racking her memory for any other acquaintances. "Isold'evan? His partner..."

"Dead, too."

"Uh, Jay Thorntree."

"Retired."

"I knew a couple of Nurses, Newton and, um, Sims."

"Emily and Constance? Dead and retired, respectively."

"This is stupid."

Hazelhead shrugged. "You'll find one."

Tango's brow furrowed. There'd been one time, during her tenure in DAVD, that her DIS check-up by Agent Ontic had been interrupted by an Assassin who'd claimed to recognise Ontic, to be her... brother? Yes, brother. His name had been... her eyes snapped open. "Steve."

"... 'Steve'? I think I need a little more to go on."

"Oh." Tango shook her head. "Laison, I suppose."

"... nope, not in the system." Tango let out an explosive sigh. "There is a Laison, though," Hazelhead went on. "Name of Elanor. DMS."

"She'll do," Tango said, hoping she would. If it was just a coincidence...

"... nope, she's dead. Sorry." He frowned in turn. "That's new."

"What is?" Tango asked tiredly.

"It's got a listing under 'relatives'. Not often you see those in HQ. Let's see..." Hazelhead's eyebrows shot up. "Steve, you said?"

"Yeah, Steve Laison."

The Agent shook his head. "Not Laison. He's her brother, it claims, but his surname's Dimond, not Laison. Think it's the right guy?"

"He'd better be," Tango said darkly. "He'd better be."

They sat side by side on the floor, Blue leaning against the Monolith, Imbolc at least pretending she was. "I never really believed in ghosts," Blue said, shaking his head slowly.

Imbolc laughed slightly. "Neither did I," she admitted. "Then I turned into one. There's irony for you."

"Yes. But I mean... why?"

Imbolc's glowing, semitransparent figure shrugged. "Because I was murdered? Killed by a supposed friend? Or because of unresolved love. That's about all the options the stories give."

Tears filled Blue's eyes. "When they told me you were dead, I felt... I don't know. I think that was when I really snapped, now I look back on it. Did you know it was Ontic who actually told me?"

Imbolc shuddered slightly. "That woman scares me. I didn't... I don't know how you'd put it, I didn't awake until after they'd left. All I can do is hope she died in the war."

"I hope she didn't," Blue muttered savagely. "I hope she's still alive so I can hunt her down and kill her myself."

Imbolc smiled sadly. "What good would that do, my love? It wouldn't bring me back."

"It'd make me feel better, though," Blue muttered darkly. Then he sighed and looked over at her. "I can't... I mean, you're not able to, I don't know, make yourself...?" He made vague squeezing motions with one hand.

"Physical?" Imbolc shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, Blue. I've tried – how I've tried – but it's not possible. I have some degree – a very low level – of, I don't know, psychic powers, but they're not good for much." She looked up at the Monolith. "All I can do is keep that one name clean, really."

"Someone had to," Blue murmured. "But if I could trade that for even five minutes able to touch you, to feel you... to hold you again..."

Involuntarily, Imbolc stretched out a hand towards him before drawing it back. "I know. I wish... how I wish. But we can't. As far as I know."

Blue nodded. "Maybe someone back home would know...?"

"But we can't get there," Imbolc pointed out. "We don't know where it is... and even if we did, I can't leave this room. I've tried."

"Which is strange," Blue said thoughtfully. "I mean, you were... well, it happened elsewhere, so why would you be trapped here?"

Imbolc shrugged. "I've thought about that. I've never... huh?" She floated upwards, looking around curiously.

"What is it?" Blue asked, getting to his feet and trying to follow her gaze.

Imbolc shook her head. "I'm not sure... it's the same 'feeling' I got just before you appeared. How did you get here?"

"Plothole, I think," Blue said, eyeing the room warily. "So you think someone's coming?"

"I think," Imbolc said uncertainly. "I'm not... oh, no. No no no."

"What?"

She dropped down and looked at him face to face, eyes wide. "Something is coming. Something big. Get out! Now!" Her image exploded into a million tiny lights, which streamed across the room to illuminate a door. As the glow of a vast portal lit the room behind him, Blue started to run.

"'lo?"

Tango let out a sigh of relief. The voice, though muddied with sleep, was indeed the same as the one she'd heard more than seven years ago. "Steve Dimond?" she asked anyway.

"'s right," his voice said from the speaker. "Who is it?"

"My name's Tango Dioxide... um..."

"Doesn't ring any bells," Steve said. "You sure you've got the right person?"

"Yes, I... uh." Tango shook her head. This hadn't really been thought through very well. "I knew your sister."

"So?" The man sounded bewildered. "She's been gone a while now, I've met more people who knew her than I ever thought possible."

"No, not, uh, Elanor. Your other sister."

There was a hiss of indrawn breath. "What is this?" Steve said, his voice tense.

"She's still alive," Tango said quickly. "I've seen her. But she and her... people are planning something. Something dangerous."

"... are you one of them?" Steve asked. Tango shook her head, then realised he couldn't see.

"No," she assured him. "I was one of their victims... you might remember, your sister was interviewing me once when you stumbled on us?"

"Ohhh yes," Steve said softly. "I recall. Didn't you... leave?"

"And got myself accused of murder, yes," Tango said grimly. "That's why I'm calling you. The DIA came and arrested me. For some reason I'm allowed one phone call before they lock me away."

"And you picked me because there's no one else left," Steve surmised. "All right... should I assume there's a limit on this call?"

Tango glanced at Hazelhead, who held up two fingers. "We've got a couple of minutes, she said.

"Right. In that case, I think I need to come over there and talk to you. Is that allowed?"

"Provided you understand that everything you say and do will be recorded," Hazelhead said bluntly. "Acceptable?"

"Yes," Steve said. "I just want to talk to her about my sister."

"Then we'll send a couple of Agents round to pick you up," Hazelhead informed him. "I recommend that you be alone when they arrive."

Nendil looked up at the Monolith with distaste. "Why they felt the need to put something so ugly in our place I can't even imagine."

"One of the advantages of not having depth perception," Twp'atwt commented beside him, tapping a claw against his eye patch. "Just looks like a featureless black space to me."

"Mm," Nendil agreed. "Don't you have things to be doing?"

"I've got a report from Mkellin," the Pine Marten said defensively. "He says yes, there was someone here just before we arrived, and no, of course he can't tell who. But he also says it looks like they appeared in here by portal, which means probably not a PPCer." He glanced over at Flickerbright, hovering by Nendil's shoulder. "Might even have been her little thief."

"Whoever it is, zhey can be dangerous," Lady Zhevago put in. "I am glad ve moved vhen ve did. Now ve have a chance of vinning regardless of zheir actions."

"And that's what's important," Nendil agreed. "Do you all have your targets?" Twp and Lady Zhevago nodded. Flicks looked around quickly.

"I do," she said, "and so do my Division. Where's Kell?"

"Right here," the scout's singsong voice said from very close by. Everyone looked round, startled, as he stood up. "We're ready and waiting."

"Excellent," Nendil said, nodding sharply. "Four Divisions, ten targets. Remember, you're not expected to get them all, so stress to your people that if one of your strikes goes wrong, that section is to pull back immediately and join Lady Zhevago's group. She has to succeed for this invasion to work at all. Now get to it, people!"

Agent Morgan blinked and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Huh?"

"What is it?" Traf Elosia, her partner of four years, asked. "Headache?"

"Not sure... I hope so." Morgan shook her head slightly. "If not, then it's a signal. And she's only supposed to give me a signal if something very bad is happening."

"... well, let's go for headache, then," Traf said with a degree of false cheerfulness. "What bad could be happening? This is PPC HQ."

"I don't know," Morgan said slowly. "I should have checked, I guess, but... no. All right." She shook her head again, as if trying to clear it. "Maybe I should go and check."

[BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!]

"Or maybe not," Traf said, stabbing at the button on the console. "If it is a problem, it'll be fixed by the time we get back." She scanned the page, and gulped. "If we ever get back."

Chapter Four - They Say Nothing Grows

Agent Kayleigh wandered through the halls of HQ, humming to herself. Paying no attention to her route, she of course managed to pass through just about every significant location in the complex, but she wasn't focussed enough to notice. In truth, though she looked happy, she was very much worried. It had been more than a week now since her partner, Salamander, had disappeared in Middle-earth's Lake Town, and the Flowers still hadn't found him. They'd assigned her a 'temporary partner' – as if she'd fall for that! – but the other woman had clearly been a spy from the evil sadists over in DAVD. Oh, she'd denied it, but Kayleigh knew all about their ways, even if no one would believe her. She was pretty sure DAVD had kidnapped her partner, but the Flowers hadn't listened to her, hadn't done more than just asking the Big Thorn if he knew anything – of course he wouldn't admit it if he did! – and so Kayleigh had tried to get the truth out of her temporary partner. Obviously filled with guilt, Aella had fled her questioning, and Kayleigh's subsequent expedition into DAVD-controlled areas of HQ had turned up nothing. So she now thought they were probably holding him still in Lake Town, enacting their heinous activities on the helpless young man. If she didn't have to be in HQ, she would be out there now searching, but of course she couldn't abandon her post.

Such was the Bad Slash Agent's frame of mind as she ambled through a featureless grey corridor near – had she but known it – the Tomb of the Unknown PPC Agent. She turned the corner and saw the large group of people coming towards her, but they didn't really register. It was only when she drew closer and they didn't make a path for her – most people did, it was something about her bikini, she was sure – that she actually focussed on them. They filled the corridor, too many to easily count – probably something like eighty – and while they were wearing black, it wasn't the regular uniform of the PPC. They had no flashpatches, but each one wore a silver sash with the emblem of a black cat, about to pounce, pinned near the shoulder.

Oh, and they all had their weapons drawn. That was probably important.

Kayleigh stopped uncertainly. The fairy flying at the head of the group, hovered in place for a moment, and the party stopped. Each and every set of eyes – most of them pairs – looked at Kayleigh. Then, "Well?" asked the fairy in a high-pitched voice. "What are you waiting for? No witnesses, the Boss said. Get her!"

"She's in her underclothes," an uncertain voice said from the back of the group. "Are we allowed to do that?"

"It's a bikini!" Kayleigh snapped at them. "Swimwear! Sunbathing! Okay," she added as an aside to herself, "so I usually use it as underwear, but it's not the same thing!"

"Glad we agree," the fairy said dryly. "You see, Agent Michaelis? It's swimwear. You've killed people on beaches before. Now get her before I get you!"

A dozen arrows went flying down the corridor, but they were too late. As soon as the fairy had said the word 'Agent', Kayleigh's eyes had widened in horror. By the time she reached 'beaches', the Slasher had turned and started running, and as the arrows were loosed she was already passing round the corner, heading at full speed for the next intersection. As the sound of footsteps began to thunder behind her, only one thought ran through her mind: a single acronym, repeated over and over.

DAVD! DAVD! DAVD!

Penny drummed her fingers on the side of her camp chair. "How much longer is this going to take?"

It will take as long as it takes, the Sunflower Official intoned. Your... anomalous status within the Organisation-

"You mean the fact that we're paid and trained?" Vemi asked waspishly.

Quite. It has led to quite a lot of extra paperwork. Normally I would simply need to contact the Clover and get your money from our very much depleted budget, but in this situation...

"Oh, come on!" Vemi got to her feet and began pacing in front of the SO's desk. "How complicated can it be? So we broke a Remote Activator – fine, take it out of our contract."

"Hey, let's not be hasty," Penny put in.

"Your Agents break them all the time!" Vemi continued. "All this fuss is completely-"

Necessary, the SO cut her off. Yes, Agents do tend to go through equipment like caterpillars through leaves, but they are our employees. You two, by your own choice, are not. Thus it becomes complicated.

"Then like I said, take it out of our contract." Vemi shrugged, avoiding her partner's pained look. "I don't like the idea any more than you, Penny, but we did break it."

If only I could, the Sunflower said in a low tone. But you have been 'hired', if I may use the term, from your Lord Downey. The terms of that contract state that he is responsible for any breakages, and that payment must come from your Guild, not you.

"How did you get that one past him?" Vemi asked, startled. "I thought he brought Mr. Slant in to work on the contract for him.

Yes, well, the Flower said, looking somewhat embarrassed, our Legal Department's Canon Laws Division has more experience even than him, I'm afraid.

"Hrm." Vemi shook her head. "Not important, regardless. Why don't you just send someone to get the money from him?"

We intend to. Just as soon as we decide what to tell him.

"That it's in our contract?" Penny suggested. "I don't see the problem."

Do you not? The SO's petals shook. How are we supposed to inform Mr. Downey that you have broken a device which he cannot hope to understand, and which it is forbidden to inform Canon characters of the existence of? And if we do not tell him what you have broken, how likely is he to believe that you have done so at all? Whatever you may think of me, I have no intention of sending one of my Agents into that situation. You people are dangerous.

"... he's got a point, Vemi," Penny said, looking up at her partner.

"No, he hasn't," Vemi insisted. "Sure, you can't tell him it's a Remote Activator, but why not just pick something else of equivalent cost, a crossbow or something, and tell him we've broken that?"

The Sunflower looked at her levelly. That is the option I've been considering, he said patiently. The Clover is at this moment working out the equivalent prices for me, and when he has done so-

There was a soft chime, and the SO's head tilted downwards towards his desk. "Seems like one of Legal's other Divisions is working hard, too," Penny commented. The Sunflower pressed a frond to the button and watched the screen for a moment.

I... see.

"Well?" asked Vemi. "Is that the list?"

It is indeed. The Flower lifted his head and looked at the two of them. Tell me... under what sort of circumstance might an Assassin need to use a, he glanced down again, a three-storey siege tower with six large crossbows, three catapults, and an "Obliterator"-model Ephebian fire-thrower? He checked again. Painted purple.

There are three Departments dedicated to the security of PPC HQ.

One is the Department of External Security, commonly called the Weeds. It is made up almost entirely of Flowers, rarely if ever enters the building, and in all the mission reports filed by Agents down the years, has only been mentioned once. Second is the Department of Internal Operations, hidden away in an undisclosed location, and known only to the Department Heads. Its very existence is unconceived of by most Agents, and no one, besides those associated with it, know the true extent of its powers.

Agent Catherine Hust was not in either of those Departments. She was in the DIA, the only semi-public security Department. However, if she had heard of the other two, she would be fervently wishing she could transfer.

"Please, Agent," she said, "try to calm down."

"Calm? Calm?" the dark-haired woman in the yellow bikini (which, Catherine noted, was polka-dotted, although fortunately it was neither itsy-bitsy nor teenie-weenie) exclaimed. "How can I be calm? They tried to kill me!"

"If only they had," a quiet voice murmured, and Catherine glanced over at her twin sister. Charlotte shrugged, and looked back down at her book, so Catherine turned back to the troublesome Agent.

"I can understand that might be difficult for you-" she began, but the other woman cut her off.

"You bet it's difficult! They already took my partner, and now they come after me! It's a conspiracy, I tell you! They're out to kill us all!"

"You partner is missing, then?" Catherine asked, trying to angle for information. "If you tell us who she is, we might be able to find her."

The Agent looked up quickly. "He's called Sal. Salamander. Bad Slash. They took him while we were on a mission."

Catherine nodded, and looked across at Charlotte. "If you could check the system...?"

Charlotte Hust nodded briskly and rolled her chair forward to the desk. Typing quickly, she brought up a results page and tabbed it across to Catherine's monitor, then nodded. "I'll be over here if you need me again," she said, and picked up her book.

Catherine shook her head slightly – although to be honest she was just the same when Charlotte was running things – and looked at the screen. "You'd be Agent Kayleigh, then?"

"That's right... have you been spying on me?" Kayleigh tried to lean over the desk to see the screen. Catherine sighed.

"No. We just have access to Personnel's records. It seems your partner vanished in the field several days ago, and no sign of him has been seen, is that correct?" She knew it was correct, of course, and that there likely never would be any sign of him – the case file had a large red 'FILE UNDER IGNORE' note on it, indicating that Salamander had been abandoned. Probably not a good idea to tell Kayleigh that.

"That's right," Kayleigh said, still suspicious. "He's missing because they took him."

"And who are 'they'?" Catherine asked, hoping to finally get to the bottom of the actual problem.

Kayleigh looked around suspiciously, and then leaned forward. "It's the DAVD," she whispered urgently. "They took off their patches and wore those sashes to disguise themselves, but I know it was them. They'll kill us all if we don't watch out. All of us."

Catherine stiffened, and didn't even need to look round to know that Charlotte had sat up and was now paying complete attention. "Sashes?" the other Hust twin asked in an almost casual voice.

"Yes, silver sashes," Kayleigh said, glancing over at her in annoyance. "With that funny cat badge on. Not a very good disguise at all."

"No, certainly not," Catherine said, trying to control her breathing. Charlotte was typing rapidly at the computer again. "Where was it you encountered them?"

"Oh, around somewhere," Kayleigh said vaguely, and then glared at her. "You're not listening to me!"

Catherine wasn't listening to her. She had looked down at the new screen her sister had tabbed over to her – Kayleigh's personnel file, with the recruitment date highlighted. The woman had only been with the PPC for just under three years. She doesn't know, Catherine thought despairingly. There went the last possibility that this was a hoax.

"You have to listen to me!" Kayleigh insisted. "They'll kill us all!"

"I sincerely hope they don't," Charlotte put in, covering for her frozen sister. "I'm supposed to get paid soon."

Kayleigh scowled across at her. "You'll regret not listening to me," she snapped. "When they kill you in your bed, you'll regret it! You'll remember then! You'll wish you'd listened!" And she stormed out of DIA reception, leaving two rather shaken secretaries in her wake.

There was a loud knocking on the door of Response Centre 4952. Inside, Steve Dimond was wide awake, and waiting. He didn't immediately get up, however, but took a moment to check that everything he needed was securely held in his jacket, invisible. Then he stood up from the chair by the console, crossed the room, and opened the door. He blinked. "Yes?" he said to the brown-haired young man at the door.

The other coughed. "Uh, Agent Steve Dimond?" he said.

"No, that's my name," Steve replied. "Who are you?"

"Agent Hazelhead." The young man straightened up. "Department of Internal Affairs. If you're Steve Dimond, you're to come with me."

"... 'we'll send a couple of Agents round', you said," Steve pointed out. "That was you I talked to on the phone, wasn't it?"

"Yes, to both," Hazelhead agreed. "But there's a lot of reports of strange occurrences coming in right now, so I was all we could spare. You should consider yourself lucky we bothered to get you at all."

"Lucky indeed," Steve murmured. "This woman, Dioxide? Am I allowed to ask what she's in your custody for?"

"In the immediate sense, threatening the fabric of HQ, or if she is to be believed in her pathetic denials, at the least spreading alarm and discord." Hazelhead sniffed. "She's also accused of a pair of murders which caused her to flee the PPC in the first case, which hardly helps."

"Yes, I remember the murders." Steve shook his head slightly. "I hope I don't end up regretting this... still." Drawing himself up, he nodded to the DIA Agent. "I suppose you'd better take me to her."

"Of course." Hazelhead stepped backwards into the corridor and turned to his right. "If you'll follow me."

The door of Response Centre 145 – although the number had been covered with a sheet of paper bearing the legend 'Echo Beach (far away in time)' – slammed back against the console just inside, and Agent Kayleigh came through the doorway in a rage. "I'll show them!" she ranted, just as she had all the way back from the DIA's front office. "I'll leave, I'll go out into the Worlds and leave them to have their heads chopped off and fed to them!" As she pulled her clothes on, she continued ranting about the stupidity of Agents in general and the Hust twins particularly, but as she finished buttoning up her shirt she stopped suddenly.

"I know!" she exclaimed, striding over to the console. "I'll go back to Middle-earth and find Sal!" She beamed as she rapidly typed instructions into the console. "They never wanted to find him, they never really tried – I bet they're in league with DAVD!" She bared her teeth in fury at an imagined DIA Agent. "Yeah! So I'll find Sal by my own self, and bring him back, and then it'll all be okay again."

With a final stab at the large red button, Kayleigh opened a portal. Then she looked around, suddenly unnervingly calm. "I'll need my bag, of course," she said, "and the Remote Activator. I should probably take some food, too, it might take a while." Then she looked down. "Oh, and shoes." Slipping the latter onto her bare feet, she gathered up the rest of the necessary equipment and, taking a deep breath, stepped through the doorway of blue light.

She left the door to her Response Centre open, and her trousers hanging on the back of a chair. Still, she can't be expected to remember everything.

Chapter Five - The Things You Fought

[Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!]

The Bindweed straightened up, drawing in her stray tendrils which had started, with her lapse in attention, to anchor themselves to the floor, walls, and furniture. She grimaced as the end of one strand proved to already be too well attached and snapped off, but that was the price of letting herself go, she supposed.

Fully composed, she turned her attention to the computer in front of her. It was far more advanced – and a lot less malicious – than the consoles at her former workplace, and had a complete range of alert tones perfectly suited to any situation that might come up (including the horribly unlikely ones. Once, a misfiring system had set it to singing about 'the chances of anything coming from Mars', and Mars was three universes away). Allowing herself a touch of humour, the Bindweed had added a quieter version of HQ's ear-splitting 'BEEP' – and a gentler copy of the associated mind-tone – and set it to inform her of 'interesting or advantageous reports by the PPC's Department of Internal Affairs'. Most of the time they were fairly dull – warnings that a new fandom had been opened up, or that specific troublesome Agents had finally succumbed to insanity – but once or twice there had been important news. She tapped the red button beside her screen and began to read.

A few minutes later, she reached the end. Leaving the report open on her screen, she leant her flower on her tendrils to think. The report had been filed by a pair of secretaries who the Bindweed remembered as being Sunflower die-hards - it makes sense that he'd put people like them into his personal police force, she murmured – and concerned a sighting by some Agent from Bad Slash of a group with silver sashes who'd tried to kill her. The secretaries had not included any further details or speculation, but the monitor the Bindweed had inserted into their system was no ordinary program. It was a tamed copy of an entity from an obscure science-fiction continuum, and its original (variously known as "the Gun", "the Black Plan", and "the ghost in the machine") would have been more than capable of conspiring to bring down the PPC by itself – "one sneaky, very political AI" was a common description. Their copy had been very carefully worked on to remove those tendencies, but it was still very capable. Correlating the original report with the general increased disturbance in HQ, and the discovery of two or three mutilated Agents in the corridors, it had attached its own conclusion to the bottom of the report in its typical lowercase.

it seems that the dis have returned i recommend making use of this

The Bindweed spent a long time staring at that simple statement. The DIS, after all this time... finally, she shivered convulsively, shaking her creepers out to their very tips. The Boss needs to hear about this, she said aloud. It could be just what we've been waiting for. Closing down the report, she rose up on her foliage, opened the office door, and moved out into the crisp white corridor beyond.

In the darkened room, a cursor flashed on the screen. Then, letter by letter, a line of text appeared.

yes it could be just what ive been waiting for

Kayleigh appeared in Laketown with no fuss. She managed to avoid comically missing the town and falling into the water, landing on someone, or even setting the portal to a couple of feet above the ground. Sometimes even the Legal Department miss a trick.

Looking around, the Slasher took a breath of fresh air. "It's good to be outside!" she said. Then she blinked. "Oh, right... anger. I remember."

The town had changed somewhat since the Agent's last visit, but the Dragon's Bane inn which had been the centre of much of the plot of her mission there was still in place. Sauntering cheerfully through the door, Kayleigh called out, "Hey! Meril!"

The entire tavern looked over at her, her shout dispelling her Agent invisibility, but even her unusual appearance couldn't hold their attention long. As the occupants (Kayleigh couldn't help but think of them as 'bit parts') turned back to their drinks, a harassed-looking girl of about eighteen emerged from the crowd and headed towards Kayleigh. Being a 'fic-created character who Kayleigh had allowed to live, she still retained her original description: slim, with reddish blond hair, and blue eyes; hair plaited in long braids; pretty, in the ephemeral manner of young human females, with pink cheeks, bright eyes, and moist lips. The words were still almost visible above her head, and Kayleigh shook her head at the memory of the Author who had made Legolas think such a list.

The girl stopped in front of her. "Yes? Do I know ya?"

Kayleigh nodded slowly. "I'm Kay, remember? A few months back?"

Meril blinked, and then nodded. "Right! I remember ya. Sorry, I'm finding it a bit hard to think straight."

"Probably too much to drink," Kayleigh said cheerfully. Far be it from her to enlighten the Canons (or near enough) on the PPC's methods. "Do you remember I asked you to look out for my friend?"

"I... yes." Meril frowned, and looked down. "Shouldn't I find ya some clothes, first?" she asked. Kayleigh followed her gaze to look at her own bare legs, and gaped.

"So that's why it's so cold!" She considered for a moment, and then shrugged. "I suppose, if it would make you feel better, but I don't have a lot of time. Can't you just give me your dress?"

Meril gaped, her hands going to her chest. "For shame!"

Kayleigh blinked. "No? You just had to say. All right, then, I suppose you'd better find me something. A skirt," she clarified unnecessarily."

Meril nodded uncertainly. "All right... are ya sure yer Kay?"

"Absolutely positive," Kayleigh assured her. She knew what the problem was – last time she'd been here, she'd been in an Elvish disguise, which didn't look quite like her. But she was a PPC Agent, there was no way this girl – this bit-part – could disagree with her as to her own identity. Meril nodded again, dubiously this time, and led her up the stairs.

In Meril's room, Kayleigh pulled on a rough skirt over her bikini bottoms, and then sat down cheerfully on the bed. "So! My friend."

"Ya said friends, before," Meril pointed out, busying herself by the mirror to avoid looking at the Agent. "A man and a woman?"

"Oh. Yes, right." Kayleigh shook her head. How was she expected to remember these things? It was because she'd thought Sal's disguise might wear off, of course, but even so. "So have you seen them?"

Meril looked round briefly. "Not both of them," she said. "But... the man, Nissa and I think he's... well..."

Her unsure tone got through even to Kayleigh. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Either it's him or it's not, right?"

"It's... him," Meril informed her. "Probably. Only, we're not sure about his eye colour."

Kayleigh grinned. "Too scared to get close to him? He's like that, our Sal."

"No, it's not that." Meril swallowed uncertainly. "Ya see... he's blinded."

Blue Photon knelt in the corner, thinking deeply. He had managed to find a disused Response Centre, probably – his somewhat scattered memory threw out the classic description of HQ: 'It's a bit of a maze, unless you haven't noticed' – by virtue of the fact that he hadn't been paying much attention to anything on his mad dash from the Tomb. Even now, tears were still tumbling at intervals down his filthy cheeks. Imbolc was alive! Or, well, all right, not alive, but not gone, either. Still here. That meant he could get her back, somehow.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste, especially one as sharp as Blue's used to be, but years of torment had taken their toll. First the months as a prisoner of the DIS, his battered body healing slowly, his mind reeling from the double wound of his own betrayal and captivity, and later Imbolc's murder. He had turned inwards, absorbed in his own psychosis, wrapped up in paranoid conspiracy theories way beyond what was actually occurring. Then, in the wake of his attempted murder by Twp'atwt, he had fled in a panic from another – so he thought – DIS Agent, and had wound up on an unknown world.

That had been seven years ago, seven years which had been spent alone in forests and deserts and mountains. From time to time he had come across villages, but his fear of the DIS had evolved into a fear of all human contact, and he only raided the simple houses for food and clothing. His insanity had not gone away, but it had changed. His tortured mind was no longer focussed on the DIS, but on survival above all other concerns. He had been alone for seven years, thoroughly wild, and then suddenly... Imbolc. The only person who could possibly have brought him back to some semblance of functionality.

Somewhere, in the middle of Blue's chain of thought, something shifted. His resurgent fear of the DIS – for it had to be them, arriving so close behind him, they must have been after him all along – flared instantly into anger at what they'd done to him. This was their fault! They had imprisoned him for telling the truth – tortured him for seeing too much – killed his beloved for not staying quiet! And now they were back, they were going to destroy the PPC, and they were...

...in reach, a small voice seemed to say. Blue looked up warily, suddenly aware that he had been ranting out loud, but there was no one there, only the quiet humming of the console. So it must have been his own thought. Amazing, how one part of his mind could be so consumed with anger, while another was so rational, thinking everything through, coming at last to the inevitable conclusion:

He could get revenge. He could make them pay.

Staring now blankly into space, Blue Photon considered the DIS. They were evil, each and every one, but there were two he had personal issues with. Twp'atwt, the giant rodent, had tried to kill him; Blue had maimed him, but he was probably still alive. Too resilient. Needed to be killed properly. But he wasn't the important one. The important one was her. The one who had taken his Immy away. Ontic. She needed to die. Could he rely on the PPC to do the job? Blue laughed bitterly. They hadn't even been able to free him, how could they kill a Guard?

Rising suddenly and jerkily to his feet, Blue turned towards the door, his mind made up. Ontic had to die. He had to kill her. She had to be destroyed. He took one step towards the door, and then his little inner voice whispered, clothes, and he stopped. His rags and skins were falling off, and here he was in a Response Centre. Given how careless Agents usually were, there had to be something lying around. Something... black.

Kayleigh walked slowly down the stairs behind Meril, trying to keep her skirt clear of her feet, the other woman getting further ahead with every step. At the bottom, she stopped and turned, waiting for the Agent to arrive. Kayleigh took her time, but eventually reached the foot of the stairs and looked around. "Well?" she asked. "Where is he?"

Meril shook her head slightly. "I said, he's in one of the private rooms down here. I'm not certain... I mean, we've been a bit worried about going in there. Something feels... wrong, ya know?"

Kayleigh nodded. "That's just Sal," she said, hopefully. Then, for a wonder, she seemed to catch something in the other's expression. "You don't have to come in with me," she said generously. "Just show me the door, I'll do the rest."

Meril gave her a relieved smile and pointed down a nearby corridor. The layout of the Dragon's Bane, it seemed, was still a bit fluid even after all this time. "He's in the third door on yer right," she said. "I don't think he locks it."

"Then I shouldn't have a problem," Kayleigh said cheerfully. "Go on, you can go now. Lots of work to be doing."

Meril nodded, even more relieved, and scuttled off back towards the main room of the inn. Kayleigh turned towards the corridor, took a deep breath, and started walking. She still moved slowly, only now it was not the dress but apprehension. Meril's description of Sal's injuries had been dire enough to penetrate even Kayleigh's ADHD to make her concerned. No Canon characters – or bit parts – should be able to catch a PPC Agent while he was working, and the various author-created folk hadn't been the type to do... that. Although Kayleigh had always known DAVD had been the ones to take him, this seemed a bit... extreme, even for them. I'll need to be very careful, she thought. They could still be around.

She came to the door Meril had directed her to. Showing her typical disregard for anything much, she didn't knock, but pushed it open with a cheerful, "Sal? You in-"

Her sentence was cut short by two things. The first was the pair of swords at her throat, but the second was the sight of Salamander – her partner – sitting on the covered bed, facing her. It was as bad as she'd feared. One of his arms was still in a sling. His visible skin – he wasn't wearing a shirt, for some reason – was covered in barely-healed cuts and bruises, and one particularly vicious wound on his stomach had been hastily stitched. But the biggest shock was his eyes – or wasn't his eyes. He didn't have any. Nor did he have a blindfold. Instead there was simply a flat patch under his right eyebrow, where his eyelids had been sewn together. His left eyelids were open, as if a doctor had been working on the empty socket that was visible behind them. Kayleigh shuddered, and only then realised that the people connected to the two swords had been talking to her.

"- don't tell us who you are we will cut your throat," one was hissing. Kayleigh blinked as the voice – female – went on. "We won't have anyone coming back for the rest of him, not after the time we've spent on him. We won't have any Cats in here." This last was said with particular venom. Kayleigh decided that an answer was probably in order.

"I'm not a cat," she said. "Look, I don't have the ears. Or the whiskers." She looked at Sal. "And I'm not DAVD, either, if that's what you think! I'm his partner!"

There was a distinct silence from the voice, which was filled by another voice from her other side, this one male. "... DAVD?" it asked, bemused.

"They hurt Sal," Kayleigh said as if it were self-evident – which, to her, it was. She wondered why her partner wasn't speaking up for her. "They're evil, you see."

After another moment's silence, the two swords moved away from her throat. "The people who did this are far more evil than DAVD," the female voice said. "They were – are – the Black Cats. They delight in torturing anyone they come across. They've tried to kill both of us multiple times – you wouldn't believe the close escapes we've had. They are a complete law unto themselves, and while we're giving you the benefit of the doubt for now, if you turn out to be one of them, we will have no qualms at all about killing you and throwing you into the Long Lake. Understood?"

Kayleigh thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. "Yep, got it all." Then she frowned. "Wait, no. Two questions."

"Go on," the female voice said warily.

"First," Kayleigh said, nodding at her partner, "why's Sal so still? I know he'd stand up for me if he wasn't. And second... who are you?"

"I had to sedate him while I work on his eyes," the male voice said. "He's got a nasty infection in that one, could be very dangerous if I don't keep checking on it, and having someone poke around in your sockets is pretty painful."

"As to your second question," the female voice said, "you don't know us." A brown-haired man and black-haired woman, both dressed in Lake Town clothing, stepped out in front of her, swords held loosely at their sides. "But since you asked... this is Dassie. I'm Nyx. A long time ago, we were with the PPC."

I stand in the grey room, glowing with power. Against the wall the last defender of my enemy lies broken and bleeding. At my side stands one of the last of the Black Cats, the former DIS, who has rejoined me out of desperation, lust for power, fear. She is my servant now.

And there is my nemesis, quivering behind his desk. You should not be here, he says.

I shake my head scornfully. "Your Assassins couldn't keep you safe," I say, "and nor will your feeble words. Do you think you can control me by them? I am the master of control."

You control less than you think, my opponent replies, but I see his uncertainty and smile.

"I control more than you know," I counter, and raise my right hand. "You supplanted me, flower. You hounded me out. For that, you deserve death."

The Sunflower Official looks up at me, his flower-head listing slightly to one side, as if injured. Do you truly think so? he asks.

"I do," I confirm with a cruel smile, as blue lightning begins to crackle across my fingertips. "Sunflower, your reign is at an end. You burn today." I extend my arm fully, cupping my fingers about the incandescent sphere on my palm.

"Let there be light," I say, and the vision

turns

white.

Sir? There's something you need to see.

The man in the white robe turned, his easy smile showing a sense of superiority. "Ah, Bindweed," he said. "Does it by any chance concern our dear old friends in HQ?"

The Plant edged onto the balcony, shedding leaves onto the clean floor. The man shook his head slightly. His people had been slowly – but surely – losing their focus as the years drew on; the Bindweed's lack of attention to her appearance was one of the least worrisome failures, but probably the most visible. For a moment he considered having some of his workers give her a forced trim, but dismissed the thought. There wasn't likely to be time, and with luck, what was coming would sort her out.

Yes, sir, the Plant said. Our little spy has uncovered evidence that the DIS – the Guards – have returned, in force.

The man breathed in deeply. "Excellent," he said, looking back out over the Factory floor. The endless ranks of silvery pods seemed to morph in his mind's eye into a vast army, his workers moving among them becoming commanders, issuing his orders to all. Instead of the glass wall of the Factory and the sunny fields beyond, he saw a great stone wall, one giant door set in its face. Letting the breath out, he smiled. The time has come, he thought. Glancing back at the Bindweed, he said, "We will be needing those special samples. How long will it take to run us up to full capacity?"

The Bindweed shrugged. If we flush all the units currently in production, we can enter the new details and get all pods converted to their production within the hour. Twelve hours from now, our first batch could be decanted. With your special methods of training... we can leave in under a day, easily.

"Do it," the man said, brushing his prematurely grey hair back over his shoulder and leaning on the balcony rail. Gazing over his vast domain, workers already moving with greater urgency as his mind reached out to fill them with new commitment, the Mysterious Somebody smiled. "Everything is proceeding exactly as I have foreseen it," he murmured.

Chapter Six - Let Us Cleanse This

Twp'atwt led the hundred or so Black Cats of Parma Division through the halls of PPC HQ nervously. This was the place where he had lost one eye, and temporarily his hearing. He shouldn't encounter those who'd hurt him so – Blue Photon, who'd taken his eye, was surely dead by now, and the SO with his infernal computer was Kell's problem – but facing down a Flower again was enough to bring his fears back into play.

But he was Twp'atwt, and he could overcome them. With a flick of his rodent-like head he dismissed the thoughts, "Almost there," he muttered over his shoulder, trusting his subordinates to pass the message along.

A PPC Agent wearing a flashpatch showing some sort of purple flower rounded the corner ahead of them. Having received Flickerbright's message about the escape of a bikini-clad Agent from Tinco's vicinity, Twp knew better than to give this woman a chance to flee. Even as the Agent stopped uncertainly, the Pine Marten nodded to Serna Tjan, his best shot. As the PPCer opened her mouth, Tjan calmly raised her crossbow and sent a bolt flying down the corridor. Its flight ended abruptly as it struck the Agent right between the eyes, killing her instantly. The body fell to the floor, and Twp smiled a sharp-toothed smile at Tjan. "Excellent work, as always."

"Only the best, sir," Tjan said in her soft voice. As the Division moved forward again, the rearmost rank – ghouls and carrion-eaters – dropped behind. By the time they caught up, Twp knew, there would be no trace of the dead Agent – and good riddance. But he had bigger fish to fry.

The door was completely non-descript. Most Flowers placed their offices at the ends of corridors, going for maximum intimidation, but this one was just another grey oblong midway along the hall. It wasn't even labelled, but Flicks had done her job well – her infiltration mission had resulted not only in the closing down of HQ's barriers, but also in the theft of a prototype Map of HQ. Now all the Cat leaders had copies. They knew where they were going.

Parma Division had come to a halt in front of the door. They could hardly all fit inside the office, but if necessary they could send a storm of fire into the room and ensure a victory. But hopefully, only Twp and his fellow leaders would be needed.

Nodding to his immediate subordinates, Twp'atwt knocked on the door. Enter, said a bored-sounding voice. Twp grinned, pushed the panel open, and stepped into the Sub Rosa's office.

The Head of Intelligence looked up as the Cats entered. Ah, so it's you who've been causing all this trouble, the Rose said, sounding completely uninterested. Twp'atwt, isn't it? Don't you know your DIS was replaced a long time ago?

"Shut up, Flower," Twp snarled. "Your time is over – we're back."

So it seems. But my time is most certainly not 'over'. Captain? Now, please.

There was a flash of blue light, and six Dandelions appeared in the office, three along each side wall. A seventh stepped out of a portal beside the Sub Rosa. DIS, eh? the last one asked. We can do that, no problem. Take 'em, lads.

The Dandelions lifted their strange-looking guns and opened fire, but Twp had already let out a whimper and moved. Grabbing Serna Tjan's arm, he threw himself backwards through the door. Of the ten who had gone in with him, a further six made it out before Tjan, the first to recover, slammed the door. "Flamer!" she snarled. One of Parma's three flamethrower wielders hurried to the front, and, "Scorch that door!" Tjan commanded.

As the flames roared, Twp'atwt stood in their flickering light. "Good work, Tjan," he said with a nod. "Now come on, Parma – one setback isn't important. We need to move on. Let's get to Personnel."

"We had to leave," Nyx explained. "Dassie was one of the enemy... I'd been tainted by them as well... with Das' as helpless as he was, we couldn't stay."

Once Kayleigh's (relative) harmlessness and non-feline status had been established, the trio had moved across to the bed on which Sal was still seated - the only piece of furniture in the room large enough to sit on. Now, as Dassie finished re-sealing the Slasher's eyelid and administered the anti-sedative, Nyx was telling Kayleigh their story.

"We've pretty much been on the run since then," the black-haired woman went on. "I don't know if it's that Legal's still on our case - I'm inclined to think so, given that we've met you - but within a month and a half we'd stumbled across the DIS encampment. They were already calling themselves the Black Cats by then - and they remembered who we were."

"So had Dassie recovered by then?" Kayleigh asked, gazing intently at the former Agent. "You said he was brain-damaged by the Mysterious Somebody."

"I still was," Dassie said, sitting down at Nyx's side. "I don't remember anything from those days - just a vague blur covering at least two years of my life. Nyx protected me," he added, smiling at her.

Nyx blushed slightly, but nodded. "How could I not? He was all I had left..." She shook her head. "Anyway. I managed to keep hold of our Remote Activator for a long time, which made it difficult for them to follow us quickly. We're lucky we had that advantage - their head tracker is the best I've ever seen, I've lost count of the number of times he almost caught us." She nodded at Dassie. "Like he says, it was a couple of years before he was fully functional again, but eventually we were both working on it. We just about lost them at that point, but then... well..."

"What she's trying to say is, then I lost our Activator," Dassie said with a rueful smile. "We had to start stealing from them, and that meant they could know exactly where we were going."

"That sounds like fun," Kayleigh said, perfectly seriously. The others looked at her for a moment.

"... so, that meant we had to do a lot of portalling and running," Nyx went on. "We were always looking for places to hide. Once, in the Star Wars 'verse, we managed to make it onto an interstellar liner, and travelled around the galaxy by spaceship for a full nine months before Mkellin - their scout - caught up with us." Her eyes went unfocussed for a moment, and she said, wistfully, "That was peaceful time..." Then she sighed. "We left so much behind when we left."

"So why aren't they here now?" Kayleigh asked, puzzled. "If they follow you around..."

Dassie grinned, the largest display of emotion Kayleigh had seen him make. "We blew up their computers," she said. "They've got spares, but in the confusion we managed to get out."

"They might still've been able to work out where we went," Nyx clarified, "but we also moved through time. We started off somewhere in Hollin during the War of the Ring - their base - and went to Forochel about, well, a bit less than a year ago - sometime between the Erebor quest and the War." She smiled slightly. "Stayed there a little while - to recover - and then... well, walked her. We found your partner when we came down into eastern Mirkwood - we think we just missed the Cats, actually - and... well, you know the rest."

"Who are you talking to?" a quiet, strained voice asked. "Who's here?"

"Sal?" Kayleigh turned to look at her partner, who had his head tipped slightly to one side. "Sal, it's me!"

"I... who?" Salamander shivered slightly. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite myself."

"I'm Kayleigh, silly!" she exclaimed. "Your partner!"

"Okay, that much, I remember." Sal smiled slightly. "But why are you here? It's been a while..."

Kayleigh shrugged, then remembered he couldn't see her and said, "Shrug. I saw DAVD rampaging through HQ - they tried to kill me! - and came to see if that meant I could find you. But these two, points at them, say it wasn't DAVD who took you at all, but these Black Cats."

"Yes," agreed Nyx, suddenly grim. "They wanted to ask him about HQ. Kayleigh... these people you saw at the PPC, were they wearing... sashes?"

"Yes, silver ones," Kayleigh said. "How did you know? Have they used them as disguises before? They're not very good."

"No, they wouldn't be." Nyx looked at Dassie significantly. "Kayleigh... you asked why the Black Cats didn't follow us here. We've just found out another reason. They were busy - busy planning. The silver sash is part of their uniform. It was them you saw."

There was a brief silence, and then Kayleigh, with pursed lips, said, "Well. That's awkward."

Mkellin was displeased. His entire Scout Division was moving through HQ together, just like Twp'atwt's Parma; but where Twp was doing it out of stupidity, bad planning and a need to hold onto his power, Kell had good reasons – his was the smallest Division, and had been assigned the hardest targets. The Sunflower Official himself would be their second visit – the Flower who had defeated Nendil, Ontic and Twp before the exodus – but Kell had decided to focus first on the more vulnerable target, the one not surrounded by Assassins.

The vicinity of the Department of Sufficiently Advanced Technology was quiet, as it always had been. According to the Agents the Cats had interrogated, it had doubled in size since the Reorganisation – but since this meant they'd simply acquired a secretary and one other Agent, it was hardly saying much.

The Scouts came to a stop outside the door. Mkellin dearly wished he could check the interior himself, but as a leader he was required to, well, lead. Instead, he gestured to Jasmine Sims in the hand-code the Scouts were all fluent in. With eerily silent grace the young woman from the future moved forward to kneel in front of the door. He watched her reach into her pocket and then lean down further, but in a moment she was up. All clear, she gestured. No one within. One closed door.

Kell nodded, and walked up to the door himself. It opened without a sound at his touch – doors in HQ always do, unless it is dramatically necessary that they creak – and the thirty Scouts entered in good order. Kell saw at once that Sims had been correct – the receptionist's desk was empty, the tools in the main lab abandoned, the single metal door firmly closed. The Scoutmaster nodded once. Behind the door, according to their map, was the office of Hornbeam the Ironwood, Head of the DoSAT. By his use of an actual name he was marked as part of the first generation of Plants, one of four such on the Board of Flowers. But that won't save him, Mkellin thought, any more than it will save his colleagues.

With a gesture, Kell directed his Scouts towards the door. Hornbeam was huge – a full-sized tree, in fact – and so was his office. If everyone could get through the door fast enough, there should be no problems.

He was still following this line of thought when the door swung open and a woman in black leather came out shooting.

Even as he dove for cover Kell cursed himself for not seeing it coming. Years of scouting in low-tech environments had made him forget one of the most basic rules – check for cameras. Clearly this woman had seen them gathering, and had just been biding her time.

Jasmine Sims landed heavily behind the desk alongside him. "Stars above!" she exclaimed. "Sorry, sir."

"It happens," Kell replied, unable to reprimand her for an oversight he too had made. "What matters now is that we- are you hurt, Sims?"

"She caught my arm," Jasmine admitted, looking down at the sleeve of her shirt, which was already darkening with the free-flowing blood. "I'll be okay, as long as we get out of here soon."

"That may not be so easy," Kell pointed out. "I make it four dead, eight fled, three near the exit, the rest of us trapped. She's between us and the door."

"And she's got a friend," Jasmine said grimly. "A young man followed her out. I don't think he's shooting, but he's keeping her supplied."

Mkellin grimaced. "Options?"

"Full attack," Jasmine said promptly. "There's only two of them, fifteen of us. We couldn't take the office, but we could make the door out with minimal casualties."

Kell considered her plan for a moment, and then another, and then nodded. "Agreed." He glanced at her arm. "You, however, need to wait for a second after we start, and then make straight for the door." Jasmine looked distinctly unhappy, but nodded. Mkellin pursed his lips and let out a complicated whistle, counted to three, and then stood up, firing in unison with the rest of his Scouts.

Steve Dimond knew his sister had died, and he was right. However, those who die don't always stay dead. Mortic Wentway, lost during the blackout, had found her, reincarnated as a 'Sue in the making. He had brought her back to HQ, and they had been transferred to a new Department: The Department of WTF. While the Black Cats were preparing for their attack, the two WTFers had gone on their first mission, and now they had returned... at the worst possible time.

In the DoWTF's Response Centre, Elanor shook her head. "The things you learn, huh? Now, come on, you're buying me lunch."

Mortic blinked, confused by the sudden change of subject. "What?"

"I didn't think it was that complicated," Elanor said with a shrug. "I figure, you let me get killed, that means you owe me at least a lunch." Mortic winced, and she softened her tone slightly. "If you prefer, just think of it as, oh, a friendly thing to do." She smiled at him, and Mortic raised an eyebrow.

"What, at the cafeteria?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't call that friendly, more fatal."

Elanor waved a hand, dismissing the correction. "Whichever. Come on, Agent Wentway."

Mort gave in. "All right, then. If we can find the way." He opened the door and peered out. "Looks like... ah, no, there's someone."

"Anyone we know?" Elanor asked, trying to look past him. Mort glanced back at her.

"I'm not sure, they're a bit far off, but... wait." He paused, peering into the distance, and suddenly went very pale. "Oh, no. Not them."

Elanor frowned, concerned. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure... just a moment." Muttering a quick Order incantation under his breath, Mort poked his head round the door again. The 'spell' enhanced his eyesight, resolving the black blurs far down the corridor into full-scale people in black uniforms, some hundred of them, with a humanoid animal of some kind at their head. But that wasn't important. Only one thing was important: what they were wearing across their chests. That was something he could never forget, and would never underestimate.

With a soft whimper, the immortal Agent threw himself back into the room, pulling Elanor away from the door and slamming it. Frantically he looked around for some way to keep it shut, dashing over to the table and starting to drag it. Behind him, Elanor asked, "What is it, Mort? Who did you see?"

Mortic stopped, turned, and stared at her, terrified. "Black cat on silver sash," he said in a rush. "It's the DIS, Elanor. They're back."

Elanor frowned. "The DIS... weren't they some group who got thrown out of here years ago? I seem to remember something about them... no, it's gone." She shrugged. "So they're... dangerous?"

"Very," Mort said grimly, slowly recovering from his initial shock. "They almost killed me before we got rid of them. Why didn't we have them executed rather than letting them go?"

"Is that important?" Elanor asked. "I mean, if they're back..."

"... I suppose not." Mort sighed. "Okay. So we'll just stay here and wait for them to get killed, yes?"

"We can't do that," Elanor said mildly. "We might be the only ones who know they're here. We need to-"

"Not fight," Mort cut in. "We tried that before; I lost good friends in that war. I don't want to lose you... again."

Elanor shook her head. "I was going to say, we need to let someone know. Someone high up. Someone more important than the Snowthorn."

Mort grimaced. "Then can we stay here?" He moved over to the console and tapped a few keys. Then he frowned. "That's not good."

"What isn't?"

"It's not allowing me to send a message through to Upstairs. I could get an Agent, but no Flowers." Mort shook his head. "I've never seen this before. I think the DIS have hacked the system."

"Then we'll have to go in person," Elanor decided. Mort groaned.

"I knew, I knew you were going to say that."

"Glad to hear it." Elanor turned towards the door and then stopped, as if in thought. "Mort... you said you could contact Agents, right?"

"Well, yes," Mortic replied. "In theory, at least."

"I've just remembered... I've got a brother, haven't I? Steve?" Elanor shook her head slightly. "I can't believe... I should let him know I'm alive."

"He might appreciate that," Mort said. "Sorry, El, I hadn't realised you didn't know..."

"It's okay," the young woman said. "I'm still getting used to it myself... but. Right. Mort, show me how to use this Console."

"Come on, Cats!" Flickerbright exclaimed, hovering over the heads of her Division. "What are you afraid of? They're a bunch of janitors!"

"They might be in their underwear again," a voice protested. The fairy rolled her eyes.

"Shut it, Michaelis, you're too obsessed for your own good. Now come on." She flew off down the corridor at high speed, thirty Black Cats in her wake. The number was the same as Mkellin's entire scout corps, but it was only a third of Tinco Division. She had split her group up, aiming to hit all her targets simultaneously. So far they had met no resistance, other than the girl in the bikini while they were still all together.

And now the Department of Operations was coming into sight. Like most Infrastructure Departments of HQ – DoSAT, Finance, Personnel and the rest – it consisted not of individual Response Centres in the corridors, although those were still used for housing the Agents, but of a large main room with other sections fanning out from it. This made Infrastructure Department Heads particularly easy to hunt down, a fact which pleased Flickerbright no end.

Operations was hardly known for being dangerous – its Agents were the janitors, cooks and childminders of HQ – but Flicks had no intention of taking chances. As they drew near the door, three other fairies moved up to join her, and the rest of the force hung back in the corridor – save for the single troll, who had to knock the door down. As it fell, the quartet flew in.

The Operations room was reasonably well populated with Agents of every description, most of whom had turned to look at the sound of their door splintering. "Now!" Flicks exclaimed, and began to shed a trail of golden fairy dust as she flew across the chamber. In seconds the four had showered glitter on all those inside, and the Operations staff began to smile, thinking it all an absurd practical joke. By the time the first of them collapsed, faces mottled blue and red from the effects of the poison dust, it was too late for any of them.

Flicks eyed the mass of bodies with distaste. "All right, let's move," she said. The dust had a very short lifetime – it had already decayed and become safe for the rest of the Cats to walk through. Nevertheless it was with great trepidation that Tinco Division entered the room. Flicks watched them for a few moments and shook her head. "Pathetic," she said. "Erratic, come open this door for me." She pointed at the entrance to what she knew to be the Head of Operations' office.

The troll grinned, diamond teeth glinting, and lumbered across the room. As the rest of the team assembled in rough order, he smashed his fist through the Generic Surface of the door. It splintered under the impact, and Flickerbright flew through, her Cats filing in after her.

Behind his desk the Wisteria sat, dressed in his usual rumpled track suit. His voice was calm when he spoke, but his body language was distinctly tense. I do not believe you have an appointment.

"Nope," Flicks agreed cheerfully, "but I have thirty armed men and women with me. Does that count?"

... what do you want? the Flower asked. I know who you are, but why are you back here?

"That's a good question," Flicks said in a surprised tone, as if the question had never occurred to her. "I think... oh, yes." She looked down at the Wisteria with a bright smile. "That was it. We're here to murder the Board of Flowers – that's you, by the way – slaughter the Agents, and turn HQ into a pile of burning rubble. Does that about cover it?"

The Head of Operations stared at her. You will never get away with that, he said.

"Wrong!" Flicks said cheerfully. "Tinco Division? He's boring me now. Send a little bit of death his way, please."

Agent Hazelhead was just stepping through the door to DIA Central behind his charge when an alarm started to blare. The DIA Agent grimaced. "Charlotte," he said to the secretary, "what's going on, and why is it so loud?"

"Catherine," the woman corrected, "we've swapped since you left." She tapped a few keys. "And... looks like we've got an alert in. Several alerts." She frowned.

"I can hear that much," Hazelhead muttered. "What are they about?"

"Checking, checking..." Catherine's fingers moved rapidly over the keys. "Seems most of them are Flowers going offline – wow, I think the entirety of Upstairs has left the network."

"Including the Tiger Lily?" Catherine nodded, and Hazelhead grimaced. "Not good. Could be a technically-minded Agent gone psycho. You said 'most'?"

"Yeah," Catherine agreed. "Computer failures aren't enough to set off an alarm, ergo... ugh, I need to get this report system overhauled." She scrolled down a long list until she came to one entry highlighted in red. "Here we go. Looks like it's from someone in Operations, don't recognise the name – Kohn? Hmm." Clicking on the title, she opened the message. "I guess he was in a rush, there's no punctuation at all. Let's see..." Her eyes flickered down the page, and then she turned sheet white. "No..." she breathed.

"What is it?" Hazelhead asked, but Catherine Hust didn't answer. She was already out of her seat.

"Charlotte!" she yelled. "It's true! She was telling the truth! Gods of all stars – Charlotte!" With that she ran from the office, leaving Hazelhead completely bemused.

"Does she normally do that?" Steve Dimond asked from behind him. Hazelhead shook his head slowly.

"No..." Reaching over the desk, he turned the monitor to face the front. "Let's see what this says."

Steve and Hazelhead looked at the uncluttered white screen, and the message displayed thereon, with mounting horror. It was very simple, very short.

the department has been invaded and the wisteria has been killed i dont know who they were or why but i have a picture i hope you can stop them

The picture was blurred, out of focus, likely taken while running away, but it was clear enough to show the most important detail: each of the invaders had a grey or silver sash looped from left shoulder to right hip. It was even possible to distinguish the black blur of a badge over the heart.

"Gods of all stars," Steve murmured, echoing Catherine's oath. "They're back. She's back."

Chapter Seven - Clear the Way

The door to Tango's makeshift cell creaked open, and the red-haired woman looked up to see Hazelhead standing there with a young man she didn't recognise. "Have you decided to let me go?" she asked in a bored tone. "It would save a lot of time and hassle if you did."

The DIA Agent glared. "You would say that, spy," he snapped, "but you're not getting out that easily. Your friends can't help you in here, so there's no point threatening us."

"Threatening...?" Tango gave him a puzzled look. "Hazelhead, I have no idea what you're on about."

Hazelhead positively sneered. "Oh, I'm sure." He shoved the young man next to him into the cell. "You two can just sit and chat about how little idea you have, then. Make it last – you'll be here a long time." With that he slammed the door, leaving Tango warily peering across the dimly-lit room at her new companion.

The young man shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Um. Hi," he said.

"Hello," Tango replied evenly. "And you are...?"

"Um. Steve Dimond. I think I'm supposed to be here to see you."

"... oh." Tango shook her head. "Sorry, I didn't... why are you in here, then? I was expecting a conversation, not co-imprisonment."

Steve looked sheepish. "I slipped up," he admitted. "I told Hazelhead who my sister is, and... well, here I am."

Tango frowned. "They're locking you up for being a relative of a Cat? That's not very, uh, reasonable."

Steve shrugged. "Well, with the current situation and all, it's not too unexpected. And I-"

"Wait, wait," Tango cut him off. "Situation?"

"Mm, I suppose you wouldn't have heard," Steve agreed. "It's the DIS. They've come to HQ, they're running around killing Flowers and- wow, what's up with you?"

Tango had gone deathly pale. "They're here already?" she whispered. "I'm too late... I thought I'd have longer... we have to get out of here," she said suddenly, looking at Steve.

The Agent shrugged. "You won't be able to open the door," he informed her, "but-"

"Don't be so defeatist," Tango snapped, and banged her fist on the grey panel. "Let us out!" she screamed. "We're in terrible danger – let us out!"

She continued in this vein for a couple of minutes, and then turned, breathless, to look at Steve. He was standing against the wall with folded arms, looking at her with a faint smile. "You could help," she said accusingly, her voice hoarse.

Steve walked across to her and peered at her face. "Your eyes have gone all puffy," he said critically.

Tango gaped. "Well, thank you very much!" she exclaimed, turning her face away.

"No, no." He pressed his hands gently to her cheek to turn her back. "Let me." He caught his shirt cuff between his fingers and dabbed at what she realised were probably tears of frustration. "Now," he said after a few moments, "what I was going to say before you started screaming is that I didn't come in here entirely unprepared. I do have a plan for getting out, though this isn't anything like how I planned on using it."

Tango looked at him dubiously. "Through a locked door?"

"That's right," Steve confirmed. "Now, just let me..." He started unbuttoning his shirt.

Tango's eyes widened and she slapped at his hands. "Stop that! I don't know who you think you are, but-"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to try anything, Tango. Look." He tugged the dark grey cloth covering his chest – Tango had assumed it was a vest of some description – and pulled it out, revealing it to be, of all things, a bedsheet. "Hold," he instructed, pushing it into her hands with more force than strictly necessary and rebuttoning his top.

Tango watched with a puzzled look on her face. When he was done, she said, "So what's this for? You going to pretend to be a ghost and walk through the door?"

"Not that," he replied, "though that's pretty good. I'll try it next time. No, I'm going to – give it back, please? – do this." With a single rapid motion he ripped the sheet lengthways along a line which it looked like he had already weakened.

"Oh, genius," Tango muttered. "Now we get half each."

"I'm not done," Steve pointed out with a slight frown. Laying the halves side-by-side on the floor, he pulled out a needle and thread from his pocket and sewed the sheet back together with long, rapid stitches. "All right," this needs to be fast," he said as he finished. "Come over here, please."

Tango walked over dubiously as he held the sheet – in this dark corner it just looked black – up against the wall with both hands. "Stand in front of me, please."

Tango looked him up and down. With his hands pressed against the top corners of the sheet, he had stretched his arms so that his body was some distance away from the wall – there was enough room for her to stand under (or between, really) his arms. "Are you sure you're not trying something?" she muttered, ducking under and turning to face him.

Steve beamed. "Absolutely positive," he said. "Now, if you were paying attention... I tore the sheet to make two halved. Then I fixed the halves together to make a whole, and we're escaping through that hole. Go!" Dropping his arms, he threw himself against Tango and she tumbled backwards,

falling

down

into

darkness

until she hit the floor. Steve landed heavily on top of her, and as the air rushed out of her lungs she looked over his shoulder and saw the rectangular hole in the wall ripple and then transform, or rather, change its past so it never had been a hole, but merely a grey sheet with a tear down the centre, which fell into a rumpled heap. Then she was left lying on her back with a strange man on top of her, and he was heavy. "G'off," she grunted.

Steve rolled to the side and sat up. "I'm really glad that worked," he said. "I think you'd hit me again if it hadn't."

"I've half a mind to do so anyway," Tango confirmed, pushing herself into a sitting position and rubbing her ribcage. "That hurt. What happened, though?"

Steve shrugged. "I tricked Legal. They're so used to having puns turn literal on us that they made my awful line work automatically. They caught the mistake in seconds, but by that time we were already through. Simple enough," he added defensively, in response to her disbelieving look. "And it worked, right?"

"Right," Tango agreed dubiously. "So now I'm an escaped prisoner in HQ, where both the Agents and now the Black Cats, who are apparently invading already, will want to kill me. My side? Includes no one. Thank you so very much."

"You were eager enough to get out a few minutes ago. And..." Steve hesitated for a moment. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm on your side. I'll..." He sighed. "Sounds really bad, but if you come back to my Response Centre, I can hide you from both sides until this crisis is over and we can straighten you out with the Flowers."

Tango smiled. "It does sound bad," she agreed, "but right now I need a friend badly enough that, hey, I might not even hit you if you tried something." She paused for Steve's startled laugh. "All right, then, Agent Dimond – lead the way."

"... I vant zhis to go as smoothly as zhe planning sessions," Lady Zhevago finished, tugging on her lace-edged sash. "Zhere is no reason for us to lose a single Cat."

Joel Weaver nodded. "I thought you'd say that, Lady," he replied, "and I'm certain we're up to it. One hundred and twenty Black Cats will go in, and one hundred and twenty will come out again. I guarantee it."

"Zhat is as it should be," Lady Zhevago agreed. "Now, let us go and show zhese pathetic replacements how to do zhere job – and vhy zhey should never have forced us out in zhe first place."

There was a cheer from Calma Division, but one voice muttered, "She wasn't even with us back then, how can—uck!"

Joel returned to Lady Zhevago's side as silently as he had left, wiping the blood off his long knife. "My mistake," he said calmly. "One hundred and nineteen Cats will go in."

Lady Zhevago nodded once in acknowledgement of his work, and then looked at her Cats. "Zhe moment is upon us," she said. "Let us do vhat ve are here to do." And as she turned away and began to walk towards the distant door, she felt the mass of Calma Division moving behind her, and smiled.

The door swung open without needing to be forced, and the Black Cats filed into an abandoned front office. Lady Zhevago raised an eyebrow. "Is zhis zhe right place?"

Joel Weaver frowned, brushing aside a lock of white-blond hair which had fallen over his hazel eyes, and checked his copy of the map. "I'm sure it is," he said doubtfully. "Maybe they... heard us coming?"

"I do not zhink so." The black-clad woman folded her arms and tapped a foot. "Vill somevune please find an enemy for me so zhat I know vhat is going on?" At least ten small groups of Cats immediately broke off from the group and ran out through various doors, searching for anyone they could bring back. Within a minute, they had succeeded, and a young man with brown hair was dragged before Lady Zhevago. She looked down at him with a bored expression. "Name?" she asked.

The man glared venomously. "Agent Radix," he spat, "Department of Internal Affairs, Protectors of the Plot Continuum. That's all you're getting, traitor."

Lady Zhevago smiled widely. "Fortunately, 'zhat' is all I needed," she said brightly. "Ve are in zhe right place. Agent Radix," she went on, looking down at him again, "you can consider yourself honoured. You are zhe very first member of the DIA we have encountered... and zhe very first one we have killed." Her sword left its sheath at a considerable speed. Radix didn't even have time to cry out before his head was sliced away and sent rolling across the floor. Lady Zhevago handed the weapon to Joel, who began to rub it clean, and looked with distaste at the headless corpse in front of her. "Count yourself lucky," she said. "Zhe rest of your Department vill not die so cleanly."

Straightening up, Lady Zhevago turned to her Division. "First Section," she said, "you are vith me. Ve vill strike at zhe head and kill zhe Tiger Lily zhat leads zhis Department. Zhe rest of you..." She spread her arms. "Kill everyvune you find. No prisoners, no survivors – and no excuses. Before zhis day is out, zhe DIA vill cease to exist – or I vill vant to know vhy."

"I really don't think it's that simple," Narto said, hurrying after his partner. "I mean, the Bonsai Mallorn did say-"

"I've known him longer than you," Selene replied briskly. "Without Dafydd around to hold his branch, he doesn't know what he's doing. If we want answers, we have to go higher up."

"But the SO?" Narto asked despairingly. "He's the highest there is! Surely someone lower down..."

Selene smirked. "He's just one of the Board of Flowers, remember? One of nine, equal. Your former boss is one of them."

"The Lichen's hardly as intimidating, though," Narto muttered. "He's just a lot more-- watch out!"

Selene didn't stop fast enough, and went crashing down to the floor with the Agent she'd run into. Scrabbling to her feet, eyes beginning to flare red, she shouted, "Jingle-brained thrice-cursed incompetent! Why don't you look where you're going?"

"You were the one running," Narto said, kneeling next to the man on the floor. "Hello? Are you all right?"

The man with the blue hair lifted his head. "I think... so," he said, with effort. Narto nodded.

"Good. I'll try not to let my partner kill you, she's a bit tense right now." The man on the floor stiffened, eyes darting from side to side. "Joke, joke," Narto said quickly. "You didn't think... okay. Let's start again."

"Let's start with an apology from him," Selene suggested, standing with folded arms. Narto glared at her briefly, and then focussed on the man again.

"Right. I'm Narto, from the Department of Geographical Aberrations. My partner here is Selene. You are...?"

But the man wasn't listening any more; he was busy staring at Narto's face. "Narto... Narto Telyan?"

Narto blinked. "Well, yes... have we met?"

"You are, aren't you?" the man went on, oblivious. "I can see it around the eyes... so much like hers..." He sat up suddenly, lifting one hand to run his fingers through his azure hair. "I'm looking for some... people," he said. "They shouldn't be here."

"'Sues?" Selene asked. "Are there Mary-Sues in HQ again?"

The man gave a tight, mirthless grin. "Oh, much worse than that," he said. "Where were you going?"

"To see the Sunflower Official," Narto informed him. "There've been some disturbances... well, no. There's absolute chaos a few corridors out from our department, and the Consoles are going haywire. No one can get hold of the DoSAT or, well, anyone important, so we're going to find out what's happening."

The man nodded. "That's them," he said with conviction. "The Flowers can't do anything against them, they're too strong." He reached out and grabbed Narto's shoulder, startling the younger Agent. "But we can," he hissed. "We can kill their leaders, we can stop them now – before it happens again."

"Before what-?" Narto began, but the man wasn't listening any more. Neither was Selene, who now sported a wide smile.

"I like your way of thinking, whoever you are," the vampire said. "Direct solutions have always been more appealing. Let me help you up." She held out a hand which, after a moment's hesitation, the man took.

Agent Morgan paced her Response Centre. "It's definitely a signal. She thinks there's something up – something big."

"Might it have something to do with that power cut we had the other day?" Traf asked. "She might be getting a bit, you know, slow."

"Not a chance," Morgan said, shaking her head. "If she says something's going on, it's something I need to know about."

Traf sighed. "Morgan, I can tell where this conversation's going. You parked her about as far from our Response Centre as you possibly could, we really, really don't need to go and see her."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "It's not that far to the lobby, Traf," she replied. "It'd do you good to get out some, you're a lot less cheerful than you used to be."

"That's because I'm exhausted," Traf pointed out. "I don't know why I ever transferred to the DMS, I was a lot more suited to Intelligence."

"It's been four years, can't you stop saying that?" Morgan rubbed at an ear absently. "Look, don't worry about it. I'll go alone."

Traf looked at her, sighed, and stood up. "I'm coming, aren't I? You two have saved my life a couple of times, I can hardly not go and see her." She grimaced. "Even if it does mean going down into HQ's heart. I suppose it'll get us out of any missions which come—"

[BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!]

"—through, especially if we go now. Instantly. Without any delay or time to look at the console or anything go, Morgan, go!"

The room at the Dragon's Bane had a distinctly tense atmosphere. "There's no question about what they're doing there," Nyx said into the silence. "If the Black Cats are at the PPC, their only goal can be to destroy it. They've had no reason to take it over for years – it's not like they care about the Canon Protection Initiative."

"We wouldn't let them take it over, anyway!" Kayleigh put in indignantly. "We'll fight them, we will."

"You'll need to," Dassie said absently, looking at his lover. "Nyx, you're not thinking of...?"

"Getting involved? Yes, I am," Nyx confirmed. "I don't see that we have a choice, Das'."

"But the Flowers surely know they're there by now," Dassie protested. "You know how the Cats operate; they've gone active as soon as they could. The two of us won't be able to do a thing against them."

"Yes, we will," Nyx said bluntly. "You said it yourself: we know how they operate. No one else in HQ has seen them for seven years. We're the only ones who can say what they might do. If they try their trick from Mandalore again, would the PPC know? No. They'd be wiped out."

Kayleigh raised a hand. "Excuse me... what?"

Dassie glanced at her. "An adaptation of portal tech. They started out with an army chasing them. When they were done... well, no more army. Quite elegant, but utterly savage."

"If you'll excuse me saying so," Salamander put in, "that sounds like exactly the sort of thing the PPC needs to hear about. You told me we've been caught out by unexpected moves before, right?" He shook his head slightly. "And... we're not the people you knew. Most of the oldbies have moved on. We don't remember."

Nyx looked pointedly at Dassie, who sighed. "We're going to do it, aren't we?" he said. "After all these years, we're going to go back to the place that exiled us – to help them, no less."

"What else can we do?" Nyx asked softly. "We saved their Agent. That puts us firmly on their side. This... this is just the next step."

Dassie shook his head and glanced back at Salamander. "I suppose you're right," he said.

Nyx nodded. "Okay. Thank you. Kayleigh, we'll all use your Remote Activator, if you don't mind. We don't need to give the Cats a shot at finding us. And..." She glanced at the door. "I suppose we need to take our leave of that Meril girl, first. Das' and I don't have Agent invisibility any more, so..."

Dassie grimaced. "Do we have to?" he asked plaintively. "She's so... I mean, no offence to your friend, Kayleigh, but she's a bit... 'Sueish."

"I agree," Salamander said unexpectedly. "I was thinking we might need to call someone in to deal with her, but then I got... well."

"I think she's lovely," Kayleigh protested. "Anyway, Sal, we're not trained to make that sort of decision. We're Slashers, not Assassins." She thought for a moment. "Okay, so I wasn't exactly trained at all, but if I had been, I wouldn't have been."

There was the sort of silence that usually – as Salamander knew, Nyx and Dassie didn’t know, and Kayleigh knew but didn't care about – followed one of Kayleigh's more convoluted declarations. Then Dassie coughed politely. "So. Shall we get going?"

"Too many!" Mortic shouted. "El, we can't get through this way!"

Elanor swung her sword – a relic of the 'Sue she had briefly been – and managed to strike a glancing blow on a DISer's arm. She glanced quickly in Mortic's direction to see him battling two others in their silver sashes, and shook her head. Even if they killed these three, more would be waiting. There was clearly something going on up ahead – something they would never find out about. Reluctantly, she began to fall backwards. "With you!" she called to Mort.

The two retreated as rapidly as they could without opening holes in their defences. As they rounded a corner, the DIS Agents – former Agents – stopped, turned, jogged back along the corridor in the other direction. Mortic breathed a sigh of relief.

"They were on guard," he explained, at Elanor's puzzled look. "A guard can't get drawn away from his post unless he knows no one can come up behind him."

Elanor nodded thoughtfully. "So we just had to get to somewhere with a cross-corridor, and..."

"Precisely." Mort sighed. "But... that means they're sure of their victory. Otherwise they would still be trying to kill us, to make sure no one knows they're here. The fact that we're alive means the PPC is in grave danger."

"Isn't that always the way?" Elanor asked vaguely. "So. Which way now?"

"Back," Mort said with a shrug. "We're out of options; all the routes are blocked. All we can do is what I said in the first place – hide, and wait. And hope." He shook his head. "I don't like it, El, but..."

"But we must." Elanor bowed her head with a sigh. "All right, then. Back to the Response Centre – and hope we don't get caught on the way."

Chapter Eight - The Man Who Once Inspired You

The Mysterious Somebody clasped his hands behind his back and watched his subordinates. The Bindweed and the Gladiolus shifted uncertainly in front of him. Sir, I promise- the Gladiolus began.

"You keep promising," the Mysterious Somebody said levelly. "We are already half an hour behind schedule, ladies. If this takes much longer, I will begin to get angry."

The two Flowers exchanged a glance. Sir, the Bindweed tried, the delay is hardly our fault. The mass purge brought problems to light which we never-

"You should have checked the systems years ago," the MS snapped, silencing her. "Don't make excuses for your own incompetence."

Sir, with respect, the Gladiolus put in, that's not our responsibility. The Marigold-

"Ah, of course," C'baoth cut her off. "I'm speaking to the wrong Flowers." Marigold! his voice suddenly thundered through their minds. There were a few seconds of silence as the two Plants worked to clear their thoughts - the Bindweed shot the Gladiolus a reproachful look - and then a rapid rustling sound began and grew rapidly louder until the Marigold practically threw himself through the door at pretty much the highest speed a Flower can manage. The Bindweed pulled in her tendrils, disgusted at her colleague's eagerness and lack of dignity.

"Ah, Marigold," the Mysterious Somebody said kindly, "I gather these delays are your doing?"

The Marigold's petals folded in surprise. Well, he said, I suppose I- AIEEE!

The Bindweed and Gladiolus stared in motionless horror as the fierce blue lightning poured from the Mysterious Somebody's fingertips and blasted into the writhing form of the Marigold. The tortured Flower's screams reached a peak and then, quite suddenly stopped. The others watched in silence as clouds of smoke and steam rose from his remains, which crumbled to ash on the floor.

Deep within the Factor's computer systems, the camera footage of the Marigold's demise was closely scrutinised by an intelligence which wasn't supposed to be there - not that that ever stopped it. this is unexpected it may prove detrimental, the intelligence said to itself. i think it is time to allow them to move i hope nothing else goes wrong.

"Factory floor to Mysterious Somebody," a voice said from the speaker in the MS's desk, startling the two Flowers from their thoughts. "Sir, we're ready for you now."

The Mysterious Somebody looked down at the smile of smouldering ashes on the floor. "Fascinating," he mused. "Amazing how fast these techniques work." Turning with a swirl of his white coat, the Dark Jedi walked briskly to the door. "Bindweed, Gladiolus - come," he commanded without looking back. The two Plants exchanged a look; the Bindweed shrugged expressively, and they followed their Master out into his domain.

A Dandelion leant against a high stone wall somewhere in the Welsh countryside. The narrow valley was choked with trees, so she was invisible from all directions other than directly above - and as the wall was actually one face of a vast, artificial raised platform in a disused and dangerous slate quarry, the changes of anyone peering over were insignificant. The Flower lifted a small silver device in her frond and depressed a button. Weed-23 in position, she said. Door 1-Cym-3 secured.

Excellent, her commander's voice came, relayed by the device. Status of the interior?

No activity, Twenty-three said. The door's been out of use for a while, and the corridors built into the old workings don't seem to be in use, but I sealed the door anyway as per instructions.

Good job, Twenty-three, Captain Dandy said. World One doors all secured, he added on the trans-global channel. All World One Agents to return to Base for briefing on current events.

Twenty-three's seeds shook in surprise. The Weeds all knew what was going on in PPC HQ, about the Black Cats and their invasion; what more could there be? If either side had won, they'd have been called off guard duty already, rather than continuing their role in sealing all the entrances to HQ. She shrugged. Captain Dandy would tell her when she got back. Pulling her Remote Activator from her slung pouch, the Flower entered the code for DES Base, opened the portal, and stepped through.

The Nightshade was attempting to meditate, but she wasn't very good at it. Even out here in the wilderness, with no minds to disturb her but the soft, sing-song thoughts of the birds, she couldn't manage to focus. There was so much to think about, so much that needed doing. She hadn't been the Mysterious Somebody's secretary for seven years, hadn't been employed for that long, but her own small dwelling took just as much work as PPC HQ, if not more. She freely admitted that much of it was probably unnecessary - even the biggest wooden hut hardly needed a complete inventory taken every week - but it made her feel better. Except when she was trying to meditate.

Nightshade! Come quickly! The voice of her old friend echoed through the Flower's mind, tinged with equal parts eagerness and concern. With a sigh, the Nightshade pulled herself together, got up, and moved off through the sparse woodland.

She followed the mental trace her friend had left easily, coming in a little while to a small clearing atop a hill. There the Orchid stood waiting. Well? the Nightshade asked wearily. What is... oh.

The Orchid had slipped to one side, and the Nightshade had a clear view into the vale below. The whole reason they had set up camp in this location was that it gave a good view of the wide plain on which the Mary-Sue Factory - the Orchid's former holding - was situated. The Mysterious Somebody never bothered to send out patrols, secure in his steel and glass fortress, so the expanse of grass in front of the Factory was usually empty and silent.

Not today. Rank upon rank of figures marched across the field, from an assembly area in front of the Factory to a vast pink portal several hundred meters down the field. The Nightshade reached out with her thoughts to try and get a better feel for them, but recoiled in horror. These were minds unlike she had ever experienced - powerful beyond belief, but empty of their own thoughts and purpose, bound utterly to a presence she knew only too well. Where is he? the Flower asked.

By the Factory door, the Orchid told her. I didn't want to touch them either, so I fetched the lens. In one frond she held out the strangely-shaped contraption; the Nightshade took it gratefully and lifted it in front of her petals.

The blooms of a Flower have rudimentary light-sensors - just enough to make out figures, but insufficient to determine their identity. The lens, devised by Makes-Things from the PPC back when Flowers were the only Agents, focussed and amplified light in strange ways. Without it, the Nightshade could just about tell that the army below was mostly light-haired and dressed in pink. Looking through it, she could see that the host was made up of blonde young women with perfect faces and vacant expressions, all alike, along with a scattering of dark-haired young men who looked hauntingly familiar. Who was he? The Flower shrugged, dismissing the question as unimportant, and turned her gaze toward the Factory.

The Mysterious Somebody wore a white robe that was more of a coat these days, more suited to the environment of the Factory. His hair, which had been a youthful brown, had faded to grey, and his face had acquired more lines, but it was still clearly him. A gold medallion hung around his neck, and on his face was a cruel smile as he watched his army depart. Two of his Flower associates - Minions, the Nightshade thought nastily - were standing with him, the Bindweed and the Gladiolus. How long have they been going? she asked of her friend.

The Orchid shrugged. A few minutes now. Where do you suppose they're headed?

The Nightshade glanced at the white-headed Flower. Where do you think? she asked. It's got to be HQ.

I was afraid of that, the Orchid agreed with a mental grimace. What can we do?

Do? The Nightshade looked startled. Well... nothing. We can hardly warn them, can we?

Being who we are, I suppose not, the Orchid said with a sigh. But I feel so useless...

The Nightshade nodded, and unintentionally reached out once again with her thoughts. She brushed against the army below them - felt again their distressing emptiness, their complete possession by the clone Jedi - and then straightened up with such a startled cry that, far away in front of the Factory, the Gladiolus suddenly looked up in their direction.

What? What? the Orchid demanded frantically. Did they spot us? Does he know we're here?

No... no, the Nightshade said in a wondering tone. I just realised... we can't beat an army, right?

You just realised that?

No, the Flower repeated irritably. What I realised is that we don't have to. C'baoth may think he has an army, but he doesn't. They're all extensions of his will now; that's why he's made them all the same, so he can control them all the same way. If we cut him off from them... they'll die. She turned her largest bloom fully towards her companion, petals spreading wide. They'll all die, within minutes. Orchid... we can help them. We have a way. It's all going to be made right.

Captain Dandy looked out over the group of Weeds. How're we doing, One? he asked. The yellow Flower at his side tapped the console.

Everyone's checked in except Eleven, Weed-1 reported. He should be- there he is. A Wild Rose appeared in a flicker of blue light at the back of the room. All extant Weeds One to Sixty-seven are accounted for, Captain.

Thank you, One, Captain Dandy said. Now I think it's time to let them know what's going on. Stepping to the front of the stage, the Dandelion nodded to the crowd. Unusually for the PPC, the vast majority of them - some fifty of the sixty Plants present in the room - were of the same species as him, some yellow-flowered males, others seed-headed females. That had been his choice, and deliberate - Dandelions had been far more numerous than the other species' back on their homeworld, and had formed a close group because of it. When Captain Dandy had been assigned to explore the plothole network created by the Cascade, he had taken his Dandelions with him. The few other Flowers who had joined, he knew, still felt something like outsiders, but each of them had proved their worth many times over.

My friends, he said, I'm not going to mince words, you know I'm not. You've all done an excellent job. We've sealed HQ so that the Black Cats can't escape - they have no doors left to go through, and the portal inhibitors won't let them back out now. Well done. There was a satisfied murmur throughout the crowd, and Captain Dandy nodded. I'll say it again, well done. But... the situation is now worse than it was.

The Cats have adopted a particular strategy from the beginning: cut off the head and the body will die. They've been attacking the members of the Board of Flowers. Since we defended the Sub Rosa from them, they've had a partial success: the Wisteria is dead.

This time the murmur was one of shock and dismay. Captain Dandy's head bowed slightly. Sadly, this is not the worst news. As you all know, we were one of three security Departments in the PPC. This is no longer the case. The Black Cats... He paused for a moment, opening his leaves to increase the rate of photosynthesis, the Flower equivalent of a human taking a deep breath. The Black Cats have captured DIA Central. As far as we know, there were no survivors. We cannot be sure, but we should prepare for the worst. With the DIA gone, and the DIO - let's face facts - too small and secretive to do the slightest bit of good, we may be all that's left. That means it falls to us to defend HQ.

Our strategy has always been to seal up the complex and let the DIA and the Assassins take care of the Cats. This is no longer an option. DIA Central has fallen, and the Black Cats have full control over the communications system of Headquarters. There can be no organised resistance inside unless we provide or facilitate it.

Weeds, you've worked hard today. Now I'm going to ask you to work even harder. You sixty represent more than half of the Department of External Security, and I need you. I need volunteers to go into HQ and find out what's going on. I need volunteers to try and meet up with the Department Heads, especially the Sunflower Official, and determine how much of a chance we realistically have. I'm not going to lie to you - it's a dangerous job. The Cats will kill you on sight, and we are vastly outnumbered. That's why I need volunteers. He glanced over to one side, to where Weed-One, his second-in-command, almost seemed to have gone pale like a human in shock. I won't order anyone to go. If you want to volunteer, I'll be in my office. He turned and walked out through the rear door. Behind him, he heard the gratifying sound of sixty Flowers all moving forward as one, all following after him - all volunteering.

Chapter Nine - Firebird from the Ashes

Selene scowled at the grey doorway. "What is this place, anyway?"

"I think it's the Department of Internal Affairs," Narto said uncertainly. "They don't like anyone being back here..."

Selene hissed. "Them. Are they who we're here to kill? I wouldn't mind that..."

"It used to be Response Centres," their blue-haired companion murmured. Selene and Narto exchanged a quizzical glance, and then Narto coughed politely. The dishevelled man jumped slightly. "Huh?"

"What are we doing here?" Selene asked irritably. "Since, sadly, I very much doubt we're killing the DIA."

"They're probably already dead," the blue-haired man said grimly. "The enemy has taken over this complex as their base. Their leaders should be here."

Selene looked at him curiously. "How do you know?" she asked bluntly.

"And why weren't there any guards?" Narto added. "I mean, if it's their base..."

"I heard them talking about it," the blue-haired man snapped, tensing. "And I don't know why there aren't any guards, maybe they were called away."

"Or maybe they know we're coming," Narto pointed out. "They might be luring us in. It could be a trap."

Selene looked concerned for a moment, and then grinned, teeth glinting in the harsh light. "What is it that Reynolds man says?" she asked Narto sideways. "You know, just before they lead the monster-people to attack the Evil Empire."

Narto sighed softly at her mangling of one of his favourite canons. "Er... 'I aim to misbehave'?"

The vampire shook her head. "Not that one. We'll save that one. Bit later than that."

Narto frowned as he tried to think. "'They're not gonna see this coming'?"

"That one," Selene agreed. "In an appropriately Mal tone of voice." Her eyes flared red, and a brilliant bolt of lightning blew the door into splinters.

"Okay, perhaps this plan isn't 100% foolproof."

Tango Dioxide rolled her eyes. "Now you tell me. What's the matter?"

"Black Cats. Patrolling the corridor."

Tango groaned. "Are they likely to go away?"

Steve Dimond ducked back around the corner and looked at her apologetically. "They're not showing any signs of doing so. I think we're just too close to the important areas to be safe around here. My RC's only a little way from the Sunflower Official's office, and if I were them..."

"You'd go after the big Flowers. You're right, that was their plan. They were going after the Board, Hazelhead mentioned it in passing. But-"

"The Board of Flowers," Steve provided. "They were set up after you left, to replace the Mysterious Somebody."

"Right. But, what do you mean your Response Centre's near the SO's office? Have they regularised HQ or something?"

Steve blinked. "Oh, right. No, it's just... mine's one that's not too badly affected by all that fifth-dimensional stuff. I think it's in the same set of caves as the SO's room, or just a couple over. I'm honestly not sure, but I can always get up to see him quickly, if I ever wanted to."

Tango stared at him. "Well, they've certainly done something, I didn't understand a word you just said. But not important. What are we going to do now?"

"Panic?" Steve suggested, but held up his hands quickly at Tango's glare. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking."

"Think faster," Tango suggested. "If those Cats come down this far..."

Steve scowled. "We need a friend, right? Well, my partner's just retired, so she's no good, and my sister's dead, so she's no good."

"I'm sorry about that, by the way," Tango said softly. "I didn't know her, but..."

"It was a while back, don't worry about it." Steve shivered slightly. "I suppose, there's always her partner -- former partner -- I didn't know him that well, but..."

"He'll do for now," Tango agreed. "Where's he based?"

The young man frowned. "Um... HQ? We're going to have to check, hang on..." He darted back down the corridor in the direction they'd come, pulling on doors until he came to one that opened. He beckoned Tango to come and join him, and stepped inside. The Response Centre, Tango saw when she reached it, was clearly in use, but unoccupied; the walls were covered in posters, and various other odds and ends were scattered around the floor. On one wall, an ornate knife was mounted.

"They must be on a mission," Steve commented, already tapping at the console. "Lucky for them, keeps them safe from the Cats. Just have to switch to remote access... here we are. RC #2510, Mortic Wentway and Elanor Laison. So they still haven't removed her name." He frowned. "Funny, though... I don't think this is the RC I remember. And, Department of WTF? I've never even heard of it. Someone's bad at record keeping."

"Maybe that has something to do with it," Tango said over his shoulder, pointing at a flashing icon on the bottom right of his screen. Steve glanced at it and shook his head.

"That's just telling me I've got mail. Nothing to do with this." He closed the Person Finder window, and then clicked on the Mail icon. "Since we're here..."

A small window appeared in the centre of the screen showing the far wall of a Response Centre much like the one they were standing in. "No, look," a male voice said, "the camera's up there. Above the screen."

"That's Mortic!" Steve hissed in surprise. "What's he doing sending me-- oh..."

A young woman with long blonde hair had stepped into frame, looking nervously at the camera -- at them. "Hi, Steve," she said uncertainly. "It's, er, me. Elanor. Your sister? Yeah. I'm... not dead any more."

Steve gasped, clutching at the console for support, and Tango, unthinking, wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Steve nodded slightly, thankfully, and watched the rest of the video. There wasn't much to it. "It's a long story," Elanor was saying, "only not really that long, I guess. But too long for this." She wrung her hands, and Mortic's arm entered the screen from the side, hand resting on her shoulder. "Look, we're, Mort's seen someone outside that he says are the DIS. We're going Upstairs to let someone know they're, er, back. After that, we're going to be staying here, so... call us, okay? Or come by and say hi... yeah. Right. Sorry to drop this on you like this. Findu-- Elanor out." The video faded to black and winked out.

Steve stared at the screen, leaning heavily on the console. Tango lifted her arm carefully away and moved to stand next to him. "Steve?" she said softly.

"She's not dead," Steve said in a stunned voice. "She's not... she's not dead."

"That's right," Tango said in a soothing tone, "she's not dead. Now we can go and see her, yes?"

Steve turned his head and seemed for a moment to look through her. Then his focus shifted. "Tango, she's not dead. My sister's alive. Elanor-- is alive." He laughed sharply, a note that combined amazement and joy, and threw his arms around the red-haired woman. "She's alive!"

Tango tolerated the hug for a few moments, and then took a step backwards. "I'm very happy for you," she said dryly. "So happy that I'll forgive that. Can we get on now?"

"You have no heart at all," Steve muttered. Tango shook her head with a slight smile, and he sighed. "All right. It's... left out the door. I think."

A piercing blue light split the dim illumination in Response Centre #145 as a portal opened and four figures stepped through. The last one turned and waved back at someone on the far side. "Thanks for the skirt!" Kayleigh called. "Let me just toss it back to you..." She dropped her rough skirt, but by the time she'd stepped out of it and picked it up, the portal had closed. She looked around for a moment, shrugged, and then threw the skirt over into a corner. "Shame," she said vaguely.

"Has procedure changed," Nyx Nightingale asked, "or is it bad form to let a canon see us portalling out?"

"Oh, she'll forget soon enough," Kayleigh said with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, she's not a canon, really."

"If you say so," Nyx murmured. "Now, we're going to see... who's in charge now, again?"

"Well, the Queen Anne's Lace runs our Department," Salamander provided, "but you'd probably be better going to the Sunflower Official. He's supposed to just be one member of the Board of Flowers, but everyone knows he's still in charge."

"Lucky you," Dassie Hyrax said with a slight smile. "You get to go back to the SO, Nyxie."

"Joy," the black-haired woman said, deadpan. "But what do you mean, I get to? You're coming too, mister."

"No can do," Dassie said, nodding in Salamander's direction. "I have to get Tiresias here to medical before that infection comes back."

"But his name is Salamander," Kayleigh pointed out. Everyone ignored her, and Nyx grimaced.

"I suppose there's no helping that. Still... come Upstairs when you get done there, will you? I could do with your support."

"I will," Dassie promised, and took Salamander's hand gently. "Come on, Sal, time to get you-"

"To Medical, yes. I was listening." Salamander shook his head slightly. "Do we have to walk, or can we take a portal?"

"I wasn't even considering walking down there," Dassie assured me, and leant over to tap a code into the console. When a portal flicked open, he grinned. "Hey, it still works. Right, come along then." The pair stepped through the blue doorway, which flickered and closed behind them. Kayleigh turned to Nyx with a bright smile.

"Just us girls, then!" she exclaimed. Nyx nodded, keeping her face under tight control. "Great! Can we go shopping? I understand that's what girls do, although no one ever sticks around long enough with me. Ooh! Or we could go to the toilet! Or--"

"We are going to see the Sunflower Official," Nyx cut in firmly. "There's no time to waste, remember?"

"Oh, yes, Black Kitties," Kayleigh replied with a determined nod. "Well, come on, then, it's this way." As she turned towards the door, she kept talking. "Everyone says it's hard to find your way around here, but I've never had that problem."

"I wonder why," Nyx muttered, and blinked. Reaching out to grab Kayleigh's shoulder, she said, "My mistake. There's a little time to waste."

Kayleigh blinked, turning back to look at her. "Oh? What for?"

Nyx sighed and waved a hand at a nearby chair. "Put your trousers on, Kayleigh. Please."

Please don't come back any time soon.

"Not much chance of that," Vemi muttered savagely, slamming the door to the SO's office behind her. "Honestly, why did we ever come back here?"

"'It's more interesting than Ankh,' you said," Penny pointed out conversationally. "'There's none of that worry about morals,' you said. "You get cool technology and free trips,' you said."

"And all those things are still true," Vemi agreed, "but why did I forget that the boss is so annoying? I mean, it was only a Remote Activator, it's really not worth all this fuss."

"I quite agree," Penny said blandly. "Saying we had to write that letter to Lord Downey was completely uncalled for."

"Well, that wasn't too bad," Vemi admitted grudgingly. "Not by itself. But making us claim to have accidentally destroyed half a city... he made us look like incompetents!"

Penny shrugged. "It's not like his Lordship's going to kick us off the payroll, and even if he did, we'd just come back to the PPC full time. It's not like the money really matters."

"It does if we hope to retire ever," Vemi pointed out. "That Maglor rip-off may've gotten compensation, but I don't want to have to die to get a decent retirement package, thanks all the same."

Penny started to reply, but cut herself off and frowned. "What's going on down there?" she asked. Vemi peered down the side corridor.

"Some sort of party?" she hazarded. "I dunno, they seem to be moving pretty purposefully." A thought struck her. "Hey, maybe they're coming to kill the SO."

Penny's frown deepened. "Hold that thought," she said, squinting. "You've got better eyesight... can you see if that's some sort of sash they're all wearing?"

Vemi looked closer. "I think it is. Silver, I'd say." She blinked. "Didn't you say that was what the security people used to wear? Seems like pretty bad taste to me."

"Very, very bad taste," Penny confirmed. "They're... moving pretty fast, aren't they. I wonder if we ought to-- ack!" The Assassin threw herself to the side as a crossbow bolt whistled past her. "That's not a costume, Vemi, it's the DIS! They've come back, and now they're out to kill the SO!"

"Good luck to them," Vemi muttered, dropping down next to her partner, but sighed at Penny's scowl. "All right, all right." She glanced up at the advancing black-clad group. "You want to go first?"

Penny patted her pockets vaguely until she found what she was looking for. Plucking the Ankh-Morpork dollar out, she passed it solemnly to Vemi. "For the sum of one dollar, I retain you for the purpose of inhuming the former Department of Internal Security of the PPC. Do you accept?"

"I do," Vemi agreed, and handed the dollar back. "For the sum of one dollar, I retain you for the same purpose."

"I accept," Penny said seriously, and pocketed the coin. "Right. Let's do this thing."

"Not good, not good!"

"I figured that out for myself!" Narto called back to the blue-haired stranger. "Selene! This isn't working!"

"I'd noticed that!" the vampire yelled, punctuating her remark with a rather weak bolt of lightning from the vicinity of the ceiling. "But we have to do this! If we can take out their leaders-"

"I don't think they're in here!" Narto interrupted. "All we've seen are these foot-soldiers, and we must've been through half the complex by now. From what blue-boy says, they'd've come out to kill us personally!"

"That's how they operate," the stranger agreed. "It's no good -- we should make a break for it."

"Oh, now, you vouldn't vant to do zhat," a voice said from the next corridor. "Ve vere just getting started." A tall woman dressed in black velvet and lace stepped into view. "You vere right about vune zhing, zhough -- none of zhe ozher leaders are here."

"But you are," Selene hissed. "You've made your last mistake coming out here, whoever you are." She plucked a steel throwing star from her belt and flicked it in the Black Cat leader's direction. The woman watched it coming, and then, with seemingly impossible speed, stepped back to let it fly past. She smirked.

"I vould say, you need to do better zhan zhat," she commented, "but it vould be a vaste of time. You are, after all, about to die." She waved one hand lazily, and a portion of the wall simply disappeared. Black Cats poured out of the gap, cutting Narto and Selene off from their erstwhile companion. Selene stared, and then grabbed her Remote Activator from her pack.

"Narto, with me!" she called. "Blue guy... sorry, but you'll have to make your own way out." With a jab of the button she opened a portal, hauled her partner through, and left the Black Cats staring at an empty space.

On the other side of the wall of fighters, Blue Photon sighed. "Brilliant," he muttered, and then saw the Cats turning towards him and added, "Eep." Then he was running, and Lady Zhevago was left to shake her head and return to her new control centre.

Chapter Ten - While the Culprit Sits and Laughs

Somewhere in the embattled corridors of PPC HQ, down at ground level, a section of the grey Generic Surface wall slid soundlessly back and a pair of eyes peered out. A muffled voice spoke, and anyone in the hallways would have had a hard time understanding it - but there were no such observers. After a moment, the floor of the corridor sank down, becoming a flight of steps up which came a small group of bedraggled black-clad figures. Several were favouring injuries to arms or legs, and one woman bore a nasty gash across her cheek. The girl at the front of the group spoke.

"I think this is about the right place."

"It will do," said a tall, black-haired elf who was cradling his left arm. "There are none of the enemy here, at least. You did well, Catherine."

"Thank you, Agent Black," Catherine Hust replied with a sigh. "I just wish we'd been able to save more."

That any of us managed to escape that massacre is proof of your astounding capabilities, the Tiger Lily said, last to ascend the stairway. As it rose back to become part of the floor, she added, I'm surprised these tunnels even existed, let alone that you could find them so easily.

Catherine shrugged. "Charlotte did most of the work," she said, pointing to the girl with the injured face. "People get us confused a lot... although that's not likely to happen any more."

Charlotte shrugged too, an exact imitation of her twin. "Actually that tabloid crew found the network - you remember, the ones I went to investigate to see if they were a danger to HQ? They were using the system to gather stories. That's when I did a search for entrances in Central, to block them off." She grimaced, and her hand strayed to her cut cheek. "If I'd left them open..."

You did what was necessary, the Tiger Lily reassured her. No one could have foreseen this.

"We need to move along now," Agent Black said. "We face a very real danger standing around out here; we have to get to a secure position as soon as possible."

I concur, the Tiger Lily said. Agent Hazelhead, to the left, please. Agent Irvine, take the right. Find us a land mark, help us get our bearings.

The two men nodded, both uncharacteristically solemn, and walked briskly in their appointed directions. The Tiger Lily watched them go, and then turned to Catherine. Agent Hust, did you manage to retrieve the records before we fled?

Catherine nodded, tight-lipped. "They're all here," she said, holding up a black memory stick. "Everything the DIA has. I set the system into meltdown, so the enemy won't be able to make use of it. Not that they seemed very interested in that," she added glumly.

You did very well, the Tiger Lily assured her. But, until our scouts return... would you care to find a console in one of these rooms and bring up the Department's membership roll? I think we need to take stock of our situation.

Fifteen minutes later, the small DIA contingent were clustered around the screen, looking disconsolately at their handiwork. "Over fifty percent confirmed dead or captured," said Hazelhead, who had returned after encountering DIS advance guards. "Less than ten percent confirmed escaped, in three groups. The rest unaccounted for, presumed dead." He shook his head slowly. "How are we going to recover from this?"

I don't know, the Tiger Lily said frankly, but we will. We can't afford to let-

There was a knock at the door, and as the nervous DIA scrambled for their weapons, it swung open to reveal Agent Irvine and a stranger sporting a purple sage flashpatch. "Tiger Lily," the stranger said, taking in the assembled Agents in an instant, "I'm Architeuthis. The Sub Rosa sends her regards, and asks if you and your team would care to join her for a council of war."

The relief in the Response Centre was palpable, and the Tiger Lily stepped forward to rest a frond on Architeuthis' shoulder. We accept with gratitude, she said. Please, lead the way.

The Orchid stood motionless against the steel wall of the Mary-Sue Factory. All right, she murmured, I'm in place. What do we do?

When the door opens, get inside and make sure it stays open, the Nightshade said from her position in a nearby stand of trees. I'm not sure how long this will work for.

I wish you'd tell me what you're planning, the Orchid replied. I'm the one who used to run this Factory, you know. If anyone knows the codes, it's me.

But I used to be C'baoth's secretary, the Nightshade pointed out. Hush and let me work.

What the Nightshade was working with had once been the core of a PPC-style console. She had salvaged it from the parts discarded by the Mysterious Somebody and his crew during their takeover of the Factory, and had rewired it to allow her remote access to the Factory's systems. Now her task was simply to figure out the layers of code and open the main door momentarily... or so she thought, until a line of text appeared on the screen. you realise thats never going to work

The Nightshade froze, but when no armed 'Sues charged out of the Factory to capture or kill her, she hesitantly tapped a reply into the device. Who is this?

someone who wants to help you, the unknown speaker wrote. i really dont appreciate being under the control of these flowers if i help you will you destroy them

The Flower stared at the screen. You are a slave? she typed.

not quite as you would understand the term but yes i am will you help

Yes, the Nightshade typed on an impulse, and then, after a moment's thought, added, so long as you help us. We need access to the Factory; are you able to open the front door?

I'm in! the Orchid called. Hurry, Nightshade!

The Nightshade looked across at the Factory frontage, and then back down at the console. already on it, the text declared smugly. the human is in your friends old office and the flowers are wandering the factory floor i recommend you hurry

The Sub Rosa's primary blossom shook slowly back and forth. This is not going very well, Tiger Lily.

I had noticed, the other Flower replied. We're not going to be able to hold off the DIS by ourselves, you know.

They call themselves the Black Cats these days, the Sub Rosa informed her. But no. There are too few of you left.

"And we're not going to be able to back you up," Architeuthis said apologetically. "We're Spies, not fighters. Agent Bulldog's assembling those of us with enough weapon training to be useful, but it'll be a few dozen, at the most."

Sitting next to her, Agent Kyaro nodded. "As far as we can determine, the Cats number at least four hundred. Even our combined forces won't be able to break them."

"Especially not with them occupying our home base," Charlotte Hust put in. "Is there anything we can do?"

There most certainly is, the Sub Rosa said indignantly. You are not the only Security Department in the PPC, you know.

The Tiger Lily looked at her sharply. You're not thinking of involving the DIO, surely? Charlotte looked up at her sister and mouthed, DIO? Catherine shrugged.

Ignoring the byplay, the Sub Rosa shook her blossom again. They wouldn't come even if we asked, and I don't know how to contact them. No, I was thinking of External Security. Captain Dandy, you remember?

Oh. Him. The Tiger Lily rustled her leaves. But the Weeds don't come into HQ.

They do when there's a threat of this magnitude, the Sub Rosa said. The only reason the Cats' attack on me didn't succeed is that the Captain sent some of his Agents to protect me. And he has scout teams inside the complex at the moment, trying to determine the extent of the invasion.

Seems like he hardly needs our help, then, the Tiger Lily muttered sharply. The Sub Rosa gave her a disapproving look.

You know that's not the case, she said to her former subordinate. He has barely more than a hundred Agents. Even combined with your remaining forces, it will barely be enough.

The Tiger Lily sighed in a very human fashion. Oh, fine. Bring in the Weed, let him sort everything out again. The DIA Agents were by this time all watching their Department Head curiously.

I'm glad you agree, the Sub Rosa said dryly. Architeuthis, get the console online; we have a call to make.

The main floor of the FGenMS01 Mary-Sue Factory was alive with activity, Flowers and 'Sues roaming between ranks of pods which were by now halfway through producing the second wave of the Grand Army heading towards PPC Headquarters. The Nightshade and Orchid travelled through little-used areas, unchanged since the Orchid's time in charge, hoping they would be able to avoid detection until they were able to reach the Mysterious Somebody's office. Then a tall Flower with pink blossoms happened to come out of a narrow passageway just as they were crossing and collided with the Nightshade. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice... you... The Flower trailed off. You?

Kill her, Orchid! the Nightshade exclaimed, trying to scramble free of the other Flower's leaves. We can't afford to be noticed!

No! the newcomer exclaimed. Wait, don't -- I'm on your side.

Our side? the Nightshade said, finally getting free. We have no side. You can't fool-

I heard you when the Army set out, the Gladiolus babbled frantically. I knew you'd be coming in here sooner or later, that's why I'm patrolling these back areas -- I was looking for you! The Mysterious Somebody, he's insane! He killed the Marigold over nothing, and he's going to kill us all, one by one! The Flower cowered low to the ground. I never hated the PPC, I only followed him out because he'd gotten me the position, I never wanted anything like this army business. Please believe me.

We're not with the PPC, the Orchid said softly. They'd probably kill us as soon as C'baoth would.

The Gladiolus' petals rustled. But, all the stories he tells us about how you two betrayed him... I thought... She seemed to droop. So you're not leading an army of Agents to take this place down?

No, the Orchid confirmed with a hint of sadness in her voice. There's just us. But we think we can do it nonetheless.

He's powerful now, the Gladiolus informed her in a subdued tone. More powerful than you'd believe. He's, I think he's controlling that entire army by himself, feeding off their Force-sensitivity to make himself even stronger... and even more insane. He can't be stopped.

Maybe not, the Nightshade said, but we have to try. You never know what's possible until you try it. And if we don't kill him here, the PPC will fall.

The Gladiolus nodded slightly. I know. I... know. She glanced around quickly. Listen, come to my office. I've made plans for this eventuality. Maybe you can improve on them. They'll need an astonishing degree of luck when it comes to accessing the computer system here in the Factory, but...

The Nightshade's petals wrinkled in a decent imitation of a human smile. That, she said, patting her stripped-down console with a leaf, won't be a problem.

Sub Rosa! Captain Dandy's petals fluttered as the screen lit up to show the Head of Intelligence's image. What a pleasant surprise. And... His tone cooled several degrees. Tiger Lily. I'm... pleased to see you unharmed.

None of that, please, the Sub Rosa said. Captain, we have a problem.

A new one? One bigger than the DIS attacking HQ and invading DIA Control?

Yes, the Sub Rosa confirmed, and then, or rather, it's a continuation of those. We've got the figures on the DIA's losses. Right now they're down at 10% of their former strength. They can't mount any sort of resistance against the Black Cats now. Behind her, the Tiger Lily bristled, but remained silent.

Captain Dandy nodded. My scouts had gotten the same impression. They're saying there's more than 250 DIS Agents -- Black Cats, is it now? -- inside HQ, and that's without knowing how many are in the DIA's former base.

We've got 400 total, the Sub Rosa confirmed. And so, with the Tiger Lily's approval, we've decided to call in some help. Specifically your help.

Captain Dandy noted how uncomfortable the Tiger Lily looked with that statement, but didn't let his pleasure blot out his analysis of the situation. I can give you a hundred Weeds, he said after a moment. That'll leave the exterior critically under-defended in case of a second wave, but the doors are all sealed, which makes up for that somewhat. Will that be enough?

The Sub Rosa turned to someone out of shot, presumably one of her Agents. Architeuthis, where're those figures? ... thank you. She looked back at the Dandelion. Barely. We'll still be facing 2:1 odds or worse. But if that's all you can manage...

I'm afraid it is, Captain Dandy confirmed. Have you called the Sunflower Official about this?

The Sub Rosa exchanged a look with the Tiger Lily, and it was the younger Flower who answered. No one's heard from him since the attacks began, she said. Either he doesn't know what's going on... or he's been killed. If we contact him and it's the latter, the enemy will know what we're planning. We can't take the risk.

And the same goes for talking to the Assassins directly, the Sub Rosa put in. We don't know how many consoles the Cats have taken control of, and we don't know which.

Difficult, Captain Dandy admitted. Then a thought struck him, and he turned to his second-in-command. One, give me the current locations of the scout teams.

Aye, sir, the other Dandelion said, and tapped a button on his console. The Head of the DES looked at the screen, and then turned back to the waiting Sub Rosa.

Right, I'll tell you what. One of my teams is near the Sunflower's office right now. I'll send them in to find him and report on his condition. If he's alive, we can bring him into the fold. If not... if not, at least we'll know.

Agreed, the Sub Rosa said. We'll expect you here soon, then?

No, you should come here, Captain Dandy argued. Your security inside HQ is compromised, the Cats could descend on you at any moment. Out here we have entrenched positions; even if they could find us, they'd die before they got inside. He could see the Tiger Lily clenching her leaves at the subtle jab, but the Sub Rosa ignored her.

Agreed, the Rose Bush said. I'll bring my entire Department out, I think -- there's no sense leaving them here to get killed. And if it turns out we have to abandon HQ completely...

Acceptable, Captain Dandy agreed. I'll see you here soon. External Security out. Flicking the screen off, he turned to Weed-One. Better get some more tents up, he said. We've got company coming, and you know how mammals are about the outdoors.

On it, sir, the Dandelion said, his voice full of laughter.

Chapter Eleven - Endure the World

"... maybe left?"

Tango stopped, sighed, and turned to face her companion. "We're lost, aren't we?" she asked.

Steve shook his head firmly. "Definitely not. I know exactly where we are."

"Oh? Where?"

"... PPC Headquarters." Steve blinked. "Look, you know what HQ's like. It's a bit of a maze."

"Unless you hadn't noticed. Yes, we said that in my day, too." Tango thought for a moment. "Or, well, that Thorntree girl said it. She was a strange one... how is she, anyway? Do you know her?"

"Er, famous and retired," Steve provided. "I never met her. But the point is, we wouldn't be lost if you didn't keep noticing it." Absently, he wandered down the corridor, Tango following at a similar pace. "I mean, there's the map, but..."

Tango frowned. "Map?" she asked. "How can you map something as downright changeable as HQ?"

"The Flowers say it's all very simple when you see and move in six dimensions," Steve explained. "For the rest of us, they designed the Map and got Makes-Things to build it as a technological alternative. It's a bit glitchy, and the handheld versions aren't very common, but this is the PPC - when were things ever easy?"

"But, six dimensions..." Tango's mind was whirling. "We still can't move in them, even if the map points them out," she pointed out. "Without being able to do that, what good's a map to show you where you can't go?"

"Well, we can," Steve disagreed. "We just don't know it most of the time. I mean, height, width, depth and time, those four we experience in basically the same way as the Flowers."

"You don't have to talk down to me, Dimond," Tango said snippily. "I'm older than you, you know."

"Sorry," Steve said, not sounding it. "Can I go on?"

"All right."

"The other two... well, there's probability, which is no big deal, plotholes mess with it all the time, and the PPC's full of those. Actually, given that portals are basically stable plotholes, it's really held together by them. I'm not sure why the links don't glow like portals do normally, but..."

"That's not necessary," Tango informed him. "I disabled the function on my Remote Activator. I guess they added it so people could see where they were."

"Really? Huh. I didn't know that." Steve shook his head slightly. "Anyway, the sixth dimension they use is consciousness. That's the one which leads to 'unless you hadn't noticed' - when you're less conscious of where you're going, you can usually take a more direct route."

"But we still can't journey freely in that... dimension," Tango insisted. "Distracting yourself is pretty hit-and-miss. It's not accurate."

Steve shrugged. "Some people have tried using flasks of caffeine- and alcohol-based drinks," he said, "but sometimes the old ways really are the best." He stopped, turned, and knocked on the nearest door. After a moment it opened to reveal a man who appeared to be in his twenties, brown hair cropped close to his head. He looked at them suspiciously for a moment, and then something seemed to click.

"Steve," he said, relieved. "I didn't expect you'd come by this soon - it's dangerous out."

"Actually that's why I'm here, Mortic," Steve replied, beckoning Tango over to join him. Then he swallowed nervously, and asked, "Is she... in?"

Mortic nodded understandingly. "She's in, she's okay, and I know she'll want to see you." He peered curiously at Tango. "And who might this be?"

Tango opened her mouth to reply, but Steve shook his head slightly. "I'll explain later," he said. "For now... can I see her?"

Mortic nodded guiltily and stepped hastily to one side. Behind him, Steve could see a fair-haired figure curled up on a black beanbag. As he entered the Response Centre she looked up, and Steve had to bite back a gasp at seeing her so-familiar features. "Steve...?" she asked hesitantly, her voice only a touch deeper than it had been before.

Steve nodded, shaking all over. "It's me, Elanor," he said, and crossed the floor to kneel at her side. "I'm here."

"Steve," Elanor said again, and then launched herself at him, clinging tightly. "Oh Steve, I was so lost, so alone and lost without you."

Steve held his sister close, burying his face in her long hair and letting his tears fall freely. "I missed you too, El," he said. "Oh, so much..."

By the door, Tango glanced at Mortic. "You're sure they're brother and sister?" she asked in a low voice. "I mean, with the surnames, and then this..."

"They're very close," Mortic murmured. "Ellie's mother was very busy, didn't have much time to spend on them, so she was pretty much raised by her brother and sister. Steve's the one who made sure she got brought to the PPC. Not sure what happened to the sister."

"Let's not get into that yet," Tango said. "Let them have their moment. There's time enough for the war later."

"... so then I checked the files, and you know that Tango woman who killed the Evermind? Immediately afterwards, she moved to DAVD! So I reckon they're working with the Black Cats on this, and when the time is right they're going to strike from within!" Agent Kayleigh beamed at her companion. "What do you think?"

"I think you need to stop for breath more often," Nyx Nightingale muttered. "Listen, I've known people in DAVD, okay? There was this girl, Penny... she was completely harmless. Other than being a PPC Agent, I mean. They're really not the sort of people you think they are. Destroy the Protectors of the Plot Continuum? It's the PPC that pays them."

"Not any more," Kayleigh pointed out. "We don't really get paid that often any more. But that's okay, the food and the bleepka are free, and do you hear running?"

Nyx blinked, and brushed her hair back behind her ear. "You're right," she said after a moment. "Maybe half a dozen people running as if something's... chasing them?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Maybe there's someone gone flamethrower-crazy round there," Kayleigh suggested. "Or a 'Sue's broken in, or ooh! Maybe DAVD are after them!"

"Or maybe they're fleeing from the army of Black Cats invading HQ," Nyx said grimly, and drew a short sword from its sheath. "Are you armed?"

"Well, I've got this," Kayleigh said dubiously, and Nyx turned to see her holding a massive mace two-handed. "Everyone says maces are good for self-defence, so I thought I ought to get one."

Nyx stared at her. "And... where did you pull it from, exactly?"

Kayleigh looked at the oversized weapon and shrugged. "Mace-space?" she suggested vaguely.

Nyx sighed. "Look... never mind. Just wait until the Agents are past, and then take out the Cats. We could do with some more allies," she added in a murmur.

"Right you are!" Kayleigh replied cheerfully, swinging the mace with enough vigour that she almost knocked her companion flying. The running footsteps approached the corner - Nyx supposed it was just a fact of HQ that they'd been audible for so long without actually arriving - and then five figures in black raced into view, already screeching to a halt. Nyx went to gesture them past, but then the silver sashes registered in her mind. With a gasp, she threw her sword at the quintet, not even bothering to watch as one man deflected it with contemptuous ease. She grabbed her boot dagger and lunged for the nearest Cat, not giving them time to recover from their shock.

"Kayleigh!" she shouted. "Get them!"

"But the Agents haven't gone past yet," the Slasher said logically, and then threw herself to the side as a crossbow bolt thudded into the wall. She stared up at the evil-looking sliver of metal for a moment, and then shrugged. "On the other hand..." She turned to face the approaching Black Cats, grinned a feral grin, and swung the heavy mace in a crushing blow.

The reunion was over, and Steve, Elanor, Mortic and Tango gathered around a small table against the wall of the Response Centre. "So," Mort asked, "is someone going to tell me what's going on now?"

"You already know most of it," Steve replied. "The DIS - the Black Cats, now - are back in HQ, and they're attempting to destroy us."

"They've blocked off the SO's office," Elanor informed him. "We think they've killed him, or maybe are still trying."

"They've killed the Wisteria in Operations," Steve said. "I saw it in DIA Central. But... we're the only ones in HQ who know what they're planning, because we're the only ones who have Tango." He nodded to the red-haired woman, who smiled slightly.

"I don't understand," Mort said. "How does she know what they're going to do? Is she some sort of defector or... something?"

Tango laughed softly. "Not at all," she said. "I'm one of you, actually. An Assassin. You might remember about eight years back, when the Evermind died?"

Mort blinked. "Wait, you're that Tango? You're the one who started the whole Reorganisation, you and that... Blue, wasn't it?"

"Blue, yes." Tango shook her head slightly. "I don't know what happened to him, he wasn't in the DIA's files... I suppose he died in the Cats' clutches." She grimaced.

"No, he got out," Steve said, surprised. "You didn't know?" Tango shook her head slowly. "He escaped during the Reorganisation, no one knows where he went."

"Thank you," Tango said, smiling at him. "I've worried about him for a long time." She shook herself slightly. "Anyway, right. The DIS were trying to get me, so I ran away from HQ. When they were kicked out - I guess that's your Reorganisation - I found them and watched them. They kidnapped Agents... they're very skilled at torture."

"That's how they know what's going on with the PPC these days, then," Elanor surmised. "But how did they get into HQ? I mean, they say we've got all these defences up, shield walls or something."

"They shut them down," Tango said with a shrug. "I got in the same way, to try and warn people about them. But I... maybe went about it in slightly the wrong way," she admitted. "I got myself arrested for threatening the PPC. Then they found out who I was, and it only got worse."

"Why?" Elanor asked. "What did you do?"

"Killed two people," Tango replied bluntly. "Or at least that's what I was accused of. One of them I did kill, he was a DIS spy. The other... died by accident." The woman closed her eyes. "She drank the poison he meant for me."

"But what I don't understand," Mortic said into the silence that followed, "is what you're doing here, or with Steve. I mean, he's not DIA, so..."

"Huh? Oh, they gave me a phone call." Tango looked at Mort and Elanor's blank faces. "I got to call someone I knew. But everyone's gone. Blue, Immy, Arien... so I had to work through the more distant contacts. I remembered one of my DIS monitors, how her brother walked in on our meeting this one time... he was the first one I got through to."

"That's how you got my name," Steve exclaimed. "I remember that time... didn't remember you until just now, though."

"Wait, wait, wait." Mortic waved his hands in a cutting gesture. "One of your DIS monitors? Like... the bad guys?" He turned to his partner. "El, you've got a sister in the DIS?"

Elanor blinked. "I... guess?" she ventured. "I don't know... I can't seem to remember anyone telling me what happened to her."

"Yes, Ontic was in the DIS," Steve confirmed. "She wasn't the-- okay, what's he doing?"

After freezing for a heartbeat, Mortic had jumped straight up in the air, so hard he hit the ceiling. Now he was clinging to the Generic Surface like a gecko, babbling incoherently. Elanor rose to her feet and looked up at him sternly. "Mortic Wentway, you're embarrassing yourself. Stop with the incantations and tell us what's going on."

The incoherent noise stopped, giving way to frantic, yet comprehensible, pleas. "Don't kill me don't kill me please don't kill me don't kill me don't let her kill me..."

Steve looked back and forth between his sister and Tango. "Does anyone know what he's on about?"

"Not the faintest," Elanor replied, while Tango merely shrugged. "Mort," the blonde went on, "No one's going to hurt you. Will you please just explain what's going on? And come down," she added.

Mortic's grip didn't loosen, but he stopped talking and shaking. After a few moments of silence, he said, "... not going to hurt me?"

"You're perfectly safe here," Elanor assured him. "Come down, my love, and tell us what this is all about."

Very cautiously, Mortic let go of the ceiling, first with his feet ("How did he even hold on through his shoes?" Steve wondered) and then his hands, landing in a crouch on the floor. Elanor reached down to stroke his short hair soothingly, and after a silent half minute he stood up and returned to his seat. Following a few deep breaths, he said, "Ontic - your sister - was a partner of mine, back before the Reorganisation..."

Penny gasped for breath. "I think... we lost them."

Vemi scowled. "Well that's no good," she said. "We're going to have to find them again somehow."

Penny looked over at her partner. "I still don't think it's fair how much energy you've got," she said. "Look, maybe we should head back up and ask the Sunflower where they've gone. I'm sure he could contact someone who knows."

Vemi grimaced. "Great. I lose my target, now I have to go and talk to that overgrown buttercup again. Could my day get any-- shh!"

"I was shh," Penny protested, but quietly. Around the next corner a pair of voices could be heard.

"... don't know what 'general security breach error' means, she's never said it before. All I know is the cloister bell was going off and that means Bad News."

"Oh, is that what that infernal racket was? Look, okay, I agree that bad is, well, bad, but surely if it's all that serious the SO already knows. Unless it's a problem specifically with her, in which case he doesn't need to know."

"But what if he doesn't and does?" the first voice asked. "We don't know what it is, it could be a danger to the very fabric of HQ!"

There was a snort. "Oh, sure," the second voice scoffed. "Because threats like the DIS come along every-- ack!" A short, dark-haired woman came around the corner and collided with Vemi. "Watch where you're-- eep."

"What do you know about the DIS?" Vemi snarled, knife held to the woman's throat.

"What?" the stranger asked, eyes searching frantically. "What are you... Morgan, help!"

"I think you need to let my partner go right now," the first voice said. "I may not know Venusian Aikido, but I can shoot straight." Vemi glanced round, and blinked to see a tall blonde woman - Morgan - pointing a pistol at her head. Slowly, cautiously, the Assassin lowered her knife.

"All right. Agent Vemi, DMS."

"And Penny, same," Penny put in, subtly re-sheathing her own blade. "You two?"

"Morgan and Traf, DMS," Morgan supplied, lowering the gun. "Care to explain why you threatened my partner?"

Vemi frowned. "She was talking about the DIS. I thought you might be colluding with them. I still do."

Traf Elosia looked at her curiously. "The DIS were destroyed seven years," she pointed out. "That makes no sense."

"They're doing well for a destroyed people," Penny commented. "We've just chased them across half of HQ."

"... er, beg pardon?"

"The DIS are back," Vemi clarified irritably. "Don't know how, don't know how many, but they were going after the SO. We chased them off. Killed four of them, too," she added in a satisfied tone.

Traf stared at her, and then nodded thoughtfully. "I guess that was her security breach error," she commented to her partner. "Good thing we did go and check."

"Thank you," Morgan said, slightly snippily. "So what now? Do we all go back to living in fear of the black cat?"

"What's this security thing all--" Penny started to ask, but Morgan glared at her and she stopped.

"I think we should go and see the SO," Traf said into the tense silence. "He's our Department Head, and he's on the Board of Flowers. He'll be able to organise a counteroffensive."

"Actually we were just discussing that," Vemi agreed. "Apparently the boys in Legal really don't like me, so they're making sure nothing goes right today." She sighed. "All right, back to the SO's office it is. I really hope this is the last time."

Chapter Twelve - Glittering Ivory Tower

Agent Kyaris stuck one of her heads through the portal cautiously. "Looks clear," another reported back to the Sub Rosa, while the remaining three slid one by one into the blue doorway, giving her a complete field of vision in the clearing beyond. "I don't see any signs of the Weeds, though."

Is it the right place? the Rose Bush asked. You remember the marker I told you of.

"Yes, it's there," the undersized hydra confirmed. "At a guess, Dandy is too - but waiting for us to arrive before he comes out."

Then we should not disappoint, the Sub Rosa agreed. Architeuthis, tell Bulldog we're ready. The Agent nodded and spoke rapidly into a radio. Tiger Lily, are your people set?

Agent Black? the Lily inquired. Her elven second-in-command nodded.

"We're just waiting for your word, ma'am."

Then let's waste no more time. The Sub Rosa tapped a pair of keys on her console, expanding the portal to some three times its normal size. Moving past Agent Kyaris, she entered the doorway of blue light and was

elsewhere. Behind her, the portal flickered repeatedly as first Kyaris, then the DIA contingent, and finally her own Department of Intelligence stepped through. When they had all reached the clearing, Agent Architeuthis pressed a button on her Remote Activator and the portal vanished.

The records on my personal console have just been wiped, the Sub Rosa announced to the world at large. It is completely impossible for anyone to detect where our portal led.

Nothing is impossible, Captain Dandy replied, stepping out of the shadow of an ancient oak, but I accept that you've done all you can. We should be safe. Welcome to the Outside, Sub Rosa.

It's rather big, isn't it? the Flower said, looking around. I can't imagine how you keep it all secure.

A great deal of dedication, Captain Dandy replied, and then added candidly, and a little bit of sufficiently advanced technology.

The Tiger Lily let out a very human-sounding snort. Oh, so modest! she exclaimed. You poor, hard-working Dandelion, deprived of the luxuries of HQ!

... Tiger Lily. The Captain looked at her. As I recall, we've not actually met in person before. I can't say it's a pleasure.

The feeling is mutual, I assure you, the Lily snapped. Dandy's petals rustled slightly.

I understand your Department has been practically destroyed, he said casually. Remind me, why is it you're even here, given that you have no resources any more?

ENOUGH! the Sub Rosa shouted. If you two don't stop squabbling like Yellow Roses I will have Agent Kyaris bite both your heads off, and will take control of your Departments myself!

"Oh, not again," Kyaris muttered. "You know how bad leaves are for my teeth." And she grinned with all five mouths, showing off an impressive array of fangs.

... so! Our base camp is just through this copse, Captain Dandy said in a slightly manic tone. We thought it best not to have the meeting point too close. Would you all like to follow me, please? Weed-One has been setting some tents up for your Agents.

You go on ahead, the Sub Rosa said. Kyaris, keep an eye on those two. Architeuthis, you have overall command while I'm gone, and Bulldog, you're still in charge of the fighting force. The three Spies nodded, and the Tiger Lily frowned.

Where are you going, then? she asked. The Sub Rosa pressed a few leaves together tiredly.

There's someone in HQ who will be critical to the outcome of this battle, she said. I'm going to go and see him, if I can find him.

If...? Captain Dandy looked puzzled. I thought you could find anyone, Sub Rosa. Even the Elm, if you chose to.

Even the Elm, the Sub Rosa agreed. But the DIO are not the most secretive Department in the PPC, you know. Not quite.

... oh. The Dandelion nodded carefully. I understand your meaning. Well... good luck.

All around me the cacophonous sound of war echoes from the grey walls. I watch in delight as my forces stride through the enemy, cutting them down like so much chaff. Lightsabers slice through limbs, Force Lightning crackles and burns, and the miserable foe fall on all sides. "See!" I exult to my troops. "See how even together they cannot stand against us!" To the left cower the so-called Black Cats, to the right the self-styled Protectors of the Plot Continuum, and in the centre I stride triumphant, to victory!

The Mysterious Somebody leant back in his chair and keyed up the Bindweed's report on his screen. The army had encountered some difficulty - apparently the Sunflower was organised enough that he'd ordered the entrances to HQ sealed, or else someone had done so without his permission - but were now, the Flower assured him, on the verge of breaking through. They'd met some resistance from the town nearest the door, but once their buildings had been reduced to rubble the locals ceased to be a problem. The survivors are being prepared for transportation to the Factory, the Bindweed had written. There are some interesting traits which may be useable in future Mary-Sue generations.

The Mysterious Somebody shook his head with a grimace. "Computer," he said aloud, "compose a message to the Chief Administrator. Text to read: Bindweed, we are engaged in more important business than mundane product enhancement. Direct the shipment to FGenMS08, let the Yarrow sort them out." He paused, thought for a moment. "Also, you are no longer required to accompany the army. I will be arriving to command them in person. Make preparations for your return to the Factory. End message, transcribe and send."

"AFFIRMATIVE," the computer said tonelessly. The MS sighed.

"And switch to mute mode. I don't need your voice ringing in my head when I have my victory over the Sunflower Official."

The word 'AFFIRMATIVE' appeared on his console' screen, but the Mysterious Somebody wasn't looking. Rather, he was turning to face his office door in response to a voice which had spoken.

Believe me, that's not going to be a problem.

"Ah, Nightshade," the Dark Jedi said, smiling easily. "I was wondering when you were going to get here."

He's always doing that 'everything is proceeding exactly as I have foreseen it' thing, a second voice said, and the Gladiolus shuffled into view. We've never been quite sure if he really does.

Of course he doesn't, the Nightshade replied, petals ruffling in irritation. It's all an act to intimidate you. Do you really imagine he'd still be here if he knew we were going to capture him?

"It could, of course, be that I know something you don't," the MS pointed out quietly. The Nightshade flapped a leaf in his direction.

Hark at that! Vague words with no substance - do you still believe he can see the future? Behind her, the third conspirator - the Orchid - snuck into view.

The Mysterious Somebody stood up behind his desk. "You wish for specifics?" he intoned. "Then you shall have them. Ere this day is out, I will be far from this place, marching in triumph through the corridors of the vaunted Headquarters of the PPC. And you... one of you will be dead for your presumption."

The Nightshade's petals folded inwards, giving her blossom a decidedly sinister cast. That is no prophecy, she said, but simply a hope and a dream. You, C'baoth, she almost spat the name, are going to stay right here. Of that, you can be most certain. Gladiolus, Orchid - secure him.

As the two Flowers moved forward, the Mysterious Somebody stepped back from his desk, raised his hands to shoulder level, and... smiled.

The Sub Rosa looked around herself, branches quivering. The cold, black corridor was making her distinctly nervous. It had taken her several hours to locate it, which had required portalling through numerous walls, shutting down her senses and running at full speed down a corridor, and at one point dropping through a hole in the floor. All the difficulty the Agents had, stuck in their three dimensions, she had encountered with this excursion. And she still wasn't sure she was in the right place.

I am the Sub Rosa, she announced, and unnervingly, her mental 'voice' actually echoed in the narrow hallway. I am a member of the Board of Department Heads. I have... a request.

"We don't do requests," a deep voice said. The Sub Rosa realised that she wasn't hearing it in the usual mental fashion, but through direct vibration on her petals. The speaker was completely blocking her thought-scanning. "You should not be here."

I am not the one you should be worried about, the Rose Bush said grimly. There are others-

"We know," said the voice. "Why are you here, Sub Rosa? We must only be contacted through the computer network."

The network is compromised, the Flower stated. If I used it, the Black Cats would find out - you yourselves would see to that.

"... perhaps," the voice admitted. "What is your business here?"

That is a matter for your Department Head, the Sub Rosa pointed out. The voice remained silent, and she sighed. I am here to inquire as to what actions you will take during the forthcoming war.

There was a longer pause, but the Sub Rosa stood her ground. Finally the voice sighed. "Stay very still," it said, and a white orb of light appeared near the ceiling, dropped onto the Sub Rosa's upper bank of leaves, and engulfed her. When it faded, she had vanished.

The Mysterious Somebody sat calmly behind his desk once more, seeming to ignore the fact that his hands were tied together - tightly - behind his back. So much for your escape, the Gladiolus sneered. And to think we were scared of you! Without your hands free you can't even use your lightning, and what are you? Nothing but a man.

"I could take over your mind if I wanted," the Dark Jedi said levelly. The Gladiolus shook her fronds.

You? We are Flowers, sir, not those puny humans you're used to. You cannot control us - ever.

And if you could, you would have, the Nightshade added. Gladiolus, I think we need to talk. Step outside with me a moment. Will you be all right alone, Orchid? she asked.

The quietest of the three Flowers nodded. I'm perfectly safe, she said. I'll see you soon.

When the door had hissed closed, the Mysterious Somebody looked at the Orchid. "You could come back and work for me, you know," he said softly. "You've no allegiance to the PPC, and I do have several openings. Come back, Orchid, and everything will be forgiven. I won't even hold this present indiscretion against you, Orchid. Won't you come home?"

The pale Flower trembled uncertainly, but shook her blossom. Your cause is evil, she said defiantly, I know that now. I will not join you - no one will. You have failed, C'baoth.

The Mysterious Somebody nodded calmly. "Pity," he said, "such a pity. Still, your decision is made, I can see, and that means there are two things you need to know."

The Orchid tilted her petals expectantly. What might they be?

The Mysterious Somebody smiled gently. "First, your friends were right. I can't control the minds of Flowers; you're just too different to my own kind. I can influence, to an extent - encourage emotions, say, or urge my underlings to greater productivity or effort - but actual control, forcing you to do something you don't want to, is beyond me."

The Orchid bunched her petals curiously. Why are you telling me this? she asked nervously. I already said, I'll never join you.

"Because of the second thing," the Dark Jedi said, looking directly at her with cold, hard eyes. "I don't need to." Lifting his hands from behind his back, he unleashed a storm of azure Force Lightning at the Flower. It coruscated across her body, scorching her with such incandescent energy that she died without even a scream. "Did you think me some conjurer or trickster?" C'baoth asked the blackened form disdainfully, rising to his feet. "No ropes can bind a Jedi Master, you fool! Computer," he barked, "lock down the Factory and activate portal, setting DN104." Nothing happened, and after a moment he sighed and sent a bolt of electricity through the console on his desk, ruining it. A second shock shorted out the lock on the door, and the Mysterious Somebody strode out into the Factory.

The Sub Rosa bowed her primary blossom to the Fern in front of her. Thank you for your cooperation, she said. I understand your difficulties...

We must enforce the Laws, the Fern replied. If we did not - if we, as you'd have us, openly aligned ourselves on your side... what would happen to the Multiverse? The Organisation was set up to keep the worlds free from rogue plotholes; for us to bias the Laws in such a way would destroy all that we have worked for. It gestured with one frond at the Legal Chao painted on the opposite wall. Order, disorder. We allow a certain degree of disorder - the antigravity apple, you see - but all for the purpose of maintaining overall order - the ferns, with our fractal patterns, are excellent representatives of such. It shook the frond in the Sub Rosa's direction. I am sorry the Legal Department is unable to do as much as you would like.

I do understand, Fern, the Rose Bush said. I am grateful that you're willing to do as much as you are.

The Fern shrugged slightly. The Black Cats are a dangerous group, it said, and those who are coming even more so. The Sub Rosa looked at it curiously, but it said, No, don't ask. But... if we are truly neutral, they are certain to win. We know what happens if they are in control - the DIS nearly killed Agent Aspen under the Mysterious Somebody's rule. So we will... bend the odds. Your forces, and those of the Sunflower Official, will have certain chances and opportunities given to you. Your opponents will not. If you take them, you will be victorious. If you miss them... then Legal will be looking for a new home. The Trans-Normal Accountancy Division tell me that your chances of victory are... slim. But you have a chance.

Once again I thank you, the Sub Rosa replied. We are in your debt.

So is everyone, everywhere, the Fern pointed out. We don't call in our debts. Now, Sub Rosa... in a purely unofficial capacity... I wish you the very best of luck. I've grown fond of this place. It paused for a moment, and then added, And don't come back here. Its frond depressed a button on the desk, and the Sub Rosa fell through a blue-fringed hole in space-time to find herself outside Captain Dandy's camp, watching a pair of Dandelions rush towards her.

The Mysterious Somebody strode through the war-camp outside the PPC's Door 1-Sch-2. "Bindweed!" he bellowed, walking into the tent nearest the cliff face in which the door was set. "What is this shambles, Bindweed?"

The Flower looked as startled as a loose collection of vines can. Shambles, sir? she asked. We are entirely on schedule, the door is ready to be opened, we were merely awaiting your arrival.

"While you were merely awaiting," the Mysterious Somebody snapped, "I was being imprisoned in my own Factory! Return there at once, Bindweed, and take a company of soldiers with you. The Gladiolus is our traitor - she is accompanied by the Nightshade, who you of course remember."

The Bindweed's primary flower folded in surprise. She's returned? I'd supposed... no matter. I will return and dispose of them immediately.

"They've likely departed by now," C'baoth informed her, "returned to their feeble friends in the PPC. But it's best to be sure." Waving one hand, he stood firm as a strong gust of wind lifted the tent away from them and carried it off into the mountains. Looking at the now-visible door to PPC HQ, he smiled. "Not long now," he murmured. "Not long now."

Chapter Thirteen - Promises of Power

Agent Sambar kicked the door. "I don't know," he said into his radio. "There's dust falling from it and, well, knocking. Only louder."

As if someone were trying to break in, the Clover's voice came back. At least that's my surmise.

"I agree," Sambar said. "But who'd be trying to smash their way into HQ via the Department of Finance? Especially when we're already being invaded."

Perhaps reinforcements, the Clover mused, and then fell silent for a moment before coming back with a worried tone. The Department of External Security is not responding to communications, he said. I will contact the Department of Internal Affairs. After another moment, he said, The line is active, but there is no response. Agent Sambar, you would do well to fall back. You are not armed, and I doubt whoever is battering down the doors of HQ has benign intentions.

"Already doing, sir," Sambar said, backing away from the door as cracks started to appear in the concrit. "In fact... I think I'm going to run now, sir. If that's all right."

I was about to recommend it myself, the Clover remarked, and signed off.

Nendil tapped a pair of buttons on the unfamiliar DIA console. "Sir," he called, with a strange feeling of what humans called deja-vu, "report from Finance. They're trying to reach the DIA - some sort of disturbance at one of the exterior doors." He pressed another key and nodded. "I have the door. Parma Division is close - should I task Twp to take a look?"

Excellent idea, the Bracket Fungus agreed. See to it. Flickerbright, how goes the invasion?

"We're on schedule," the fairy said, hovering over a console. "Most of the Infrastructure Departments are now at least nominally under our control, Twp'atwt is patrolling and consolidating." She tapped a foot on the keyboard. "Zhevago reports the last DIA holdouts have been dispatched, so she's send most of Calma off with her second, Weaver, to secure Bad Slash. The twenty she's kept back should be enough to hold this base."

And what of the Scouts? the Bracket Fungus inquired. Or your own Tinco Division, for that matter.

"They're off having fun fun fun," Ontic called across the room. She was sitting atop a broken filing cabinet, folding what appeared to be countless paper birds. "I'd be with them, but I have to get to a thousand cranes. Then I get a wish," she concluded with a serious expression.

"... er, I sent Tinco to take that Department of Floaters we've heard about of late," Flickerbright said, watching Ontic nervously. "Kell hasn't reported back yet."

That's unlike him, the BF muttered. He was tasked to bring down the Sunflower, was he not?

"Yes, and he called in to say he was on his way," Flicks confirmed. "Nothing since then."

"The SO's a difficult target," Nendil pointed out. "It may take time. There's no reason to assume the worst."

"Kellie'll be okay," Ontic assured them. "He's a big boy now. Anyway, that girl will take care of him - she's married to him, you know." She frowned. "I wonder if he's married her back yet." A completed crane fell from her fingers. "Six hundred and twenty-one..."

"Confirmed," Twp'atwt said into his communicator. "Inputting coordinates into map... got it. We'll investigate." Flicking the comm off, he looked over Parma Division. "We've got someone knocking at the outside doors," he announced. "Nendil says we need to go see who it is, and kill 'em if we don't like the look of 'em. That sound good?" The assorted sentients cheered, and Twp grinned a toothy grin. "Can't all go, though, or the PPC will miss us." He glanced across his Cats. "First and Third groups, with me. Tjan, you have command while I'm gone."

"Aye, sir," Serna Tjan said. "Any particular orders?"

"Just keep up what we've been doing," the one-eyed Pine Marten said, and then frowned. "No, actually, not quite. Special instructions - secret ones. Step aside a minute." He pointed to a nearby Response Centre. Serna sauntered over and kicked the door open, revealing a pair of startled DoSAT Techs. One of them jumped to her feet, but "What-" was all she managed to get out before a thrown knife hit her in the throat. Her partner didn't even get to stand before meeting a similar fate. Serna walked across and retrieved her blades.

"Room's clear, sir," she said, ignoring the diminishing fountains of blood. Twp nodded approvingly and stepped inside, closing the door after him.

"Excellent work, Tjan. And now..." He grabbed her roughly, crushing her mouth against his, and Serna felt his hot tongue shoving at her lips. She responded eagerly, digging her fingers into the fur of his back and feeling a sharp, pleasant pain as Twp's claws extended, stabbing through her red top and into her shoulders. When the two Black Cats parted, the woman licked her lips, tasting blood where the Pine Marten's teeth had gashed her. Watching her, Twp grinned.

"By this time tomorrow," he promised, "the PPC will have fallen and we will reign supreme." His tongue flicked forward, brushing against Serna's lip again. "Then we can prepare for our takeover... but first a night of celebration amid the ruins of HQ." He stepped back and looked around the Response Centre, kicked one of the bodies. "Who knows," he added, "we may even find something... useful."

Serna laughed, and stepped forward for another savage kiss, much briefer this time. "An excellent plan," she agreed. "But for now, the work goes on. Go and do the Fungus' bidding, Twp... for a little while, at least."

Nyx knelt down and picked up her gladius from where the Black Cat had knocked it aside. "I should carry two of these," she muttered as she resheathed it - there had been no time to pick the sword up during the battle, so she'd been forced to rely solely on her dagger. Still, it had served well enough; two of the Cats lay dead, one by her hand, and the others had been injured. Nyx steadfastly avoided looking at the two bodies. The one she'd killed was missing an eye, and had several large gashes through his uniform. The one Kayleigh had gotten... well, Nyx thought it had once been a woman. "That thing is brutal," she said to the Slasher, who was cleaning her mace with a distracted air.

Kayleigh looked up. "What? Oh... well, it is a weapon. And she wasn't exactly offering me tea and scones. I could do with some tea, though."

Nyx shrugged slightly. The weapons she used were designed to cut fairly cleaning, and could be used with precision. The mace, on the other hand, was built to crush bones and shatter skulls... and did its work very well, as the dead Cat could have attested.

Putting her thoughts behind her, the former Assassin straightened up. "We should get moving," she said. "We may have driven the other three off, but they'll have reinforcements nearby. If we don't move out, we could find ourselves facing twice as many next time."

Kayleigh nodded, and Nyx blinked to see that the mace had once again vanished. "Where do you want to go? I think the cafeteria is serving scones this week, and I might have some tea back in my Response Centre, they don't do very good tea. If they've run out we could check the General Store, or Trojie might have some in..."

Nyx stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

Kayleigh blinked. "Tea and scones," she said. "What are you talking about?"

"... Black Cats? Invasion of HQ? Going to see the Sunflower Official?"

Kayleigh slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, that! Well, we'd better get going, then, hadn't we? Don't want to be late!"

"No." Nyx sighed. "We don't want to be 'late'. Come on, Kayleigh." Leaving the two bodies on the floor, she started off up the corridor towards her former superior's office. This was going to be a difficult meeting.

Lady Zhevago had just settled down in the former DIA control centre when there was a chime from one of the consoles. Nendil leant across and pressed a key. "Group approaching the door," he said in a clipped tone. "Lady Zhevago, are your people set?"

"Zhey vill deal vith any trouble," Zhevago said, "do not be concerned."

"I hope so," Nendil said. "We're counting about twenty contacts. If it's an organised raiding party, or scouts for something bigger..."

"Calma Division vill deal vith zhem," Zhevago repeated. "No enemies vill reach us here, Nendil, rest assured."

After a few tense moments, Flickerbright fluttered across to one of her screens. "Calma reports visual. It's... they're ours. Cats."

Frowning, Nendil glanced across to where the Bracket Fungus waited. "I don't recall anyone being ordered back, sir," he said. "Did you...?"

No, the leader of the Cats said. Flickerbright, ask the guards to confirm identity verbally, not just visually. They could be spies...

Ontic hummed a few bars of an unfamiliar tune, and then laughed, dropping a crane and beginning another. "You knew they'd be coming back," she said to the room at large. "Silly, silly sillies. Do I have to do everything around here?" Not getting up, she leant across to the nearest console and flicked the microphone on. "Calma Division," she said, "escort our visitors to the control room." Dropping the mike, she murmured, "Now where was I? Seven hundred and sixty-nine..."

Nendil looked at the Bracket Fungus nervously. "Sir, should I...?" He gestured at the console.

No. I trust Ontic's instincts. The Plant ruffled his fringed. But... prepare your weapons nonetheless.

The room was suddenly a far more dangerous-looking place, with every one of the humanoid Black Cats - including Ontic - producing a weapon or two. For a minute and a half they waited in tense silence broken only by the soft sound of folding paper. Then the door slid open and two figures in black and grey stumbled in, leaning heavily on each other. The female of the black-haired pair looked around blearily. "Kell," she said fuzzily, "I think we're safe."

"Thank the Emperor," Mkellin straightened up as best he could without straining his injured leg. "Sir... Scout Division reporting for duty." He blinked, and glanced at Jasmine Sims. "Also a rest would be quite nice," he added, and collapsed.

Twp'atwt peered around the last corner. "Who are these people?" he muttered. Behind him, First Group's sniper shook her head.

"They're kicking up too much dust," she whispered. "That concrit stuff blocks across the entire spectrum - you can't see anything through it." She adjusted her rifle's sight. "I almost think it's deliberate, sir - they're masking themselves while they set up a beachhead."

Twp grimaced. "We can't let that happen," he declared. "Flamers, give me a ten-second burst, see if you can't scorch that stuff out of the air."

"That doesn't sound very nice," a lyrical, high-pitched voice said, and Twp turned to see a trio of identical blonde human women standing behind his team, watching them. One of the three was sucking her thumb. The one who had spoken blinked at him. "I don't think you should do that," she said, and then giggled.

For a vital second, Twp remained frozen. Then, regaining control of himself, he gestured to his cats. "Kill them already!" he snarled, and watched in satisfaction as one of his team drew a blaster and fired it at the newest of the three women, who...

... held up a hand and blocked the shot. Her expression turned serious. "That was not very nice," she said, reaching for a metal rod-shaped device at her belt. "I don't think I like you." She pressed a switch on the rod, and it sprouted a blade of energy a meter and a half in length. Twp's eye widened as the other Mary-Sues drew their own lightsabers, and, abandoning his team, he turned and ran.

So you did not kill the Sunflower Official.

"No, sir," Jasmine Sims confirmed, brushing her hair back from her face with her uninjured arm. "I don't know if they were warned or just insanely lucky, but the number of Assassins wandering around up there... Second Squad escaped from one pair only to run right into a second. They started off with eight... three survivors, after only half an hour."

It certainly sounds like they were warned, the Bracket Fungus agreed. Your overall losses...?

"About a third," Jasmine said, glancing over her shoulder at where Mkellin lay wrapped in a blanket, "with another couple not likely to survive the day. We weren't trained for straight-up fighting, sir, not specifically. We're Scouts - a stealth unit."

"You should've let my division take the SO," Flickerbright called across. "Clearly we're the only ones who can actually kill anyone..."

Jasmine glared at her. "I lost friends up there," she snapped. "My Division Head might be dying right now, can't you show a little respect?"

Flicks flitted towards her angrily. "You stupid little girl, who do you think you are, anyway? You're not the only one to have lost people in this war." A few specks of fairy dust fell towards the floor. "I ought to-"

"SHUT UP!" The two women looked round, startled into silence, to see Lady Zhevago rising to her feet. "Vhat good does all zhis bickering do, hmm? Ve ought to be trying to deal vith zhe problem at hand, not squabbling amongst ourselves. Zhe Sunflower is a zhreat to us, yes?" She glared around the room. "Vell?"

He is, the Bracket Fungus supplied. He is still the main power in HQ, and he was the one who defeated us last time.

"Zhat is vhat I zhought," Zhevago said. "Vell, zhen, somevune must go and deal vith him. I vill do it."

Nendil frowned. "You?" he repeated. "You're not a scout..."

"I have some training in stealth," Zhevago said seriously, "but more importantly, I vill not be part of a group... and I vill not be in uniform." Unpinning her silver sash, she folded it and placed it on the desk. "Believe me, I vill not meet any difficulty. Zhe Sunflower Official vill be dead before zhis day is out."

Twp leant against the wall, breathing hard. "Mary-Sues," he growled, "I hate stupid Mary-Sues. Why're they attacking now, of all times?" Closing his eye, he calmed his breathing and tried to focus. "Okay. Need to get back to Parma. Need to call in reinforcements. We can deal with this before the PPC find out. We can-"

"Nothing," a voice interrupted, and Twp's eye snapped open. "You'll do nothing."

The Pine Marten stared at the figure in front of him. The man's clothes were a basic PPC uniform with the flashpatch torn away, and his sword looked to be a purloined 'Sue weapon, but his hair made up for all that. It was long, dishevelled, and coloured a deep, vibrant blue. "I know you," Twp hissed, his hand rising to his scarred face. "You did this to me."

"I've a mind to do a lot more," Blue Photon replied, deathly calm. "You ruined my life, weasel, and now I'm going to take yours. You first, and then that Ontic woman."

Twp laughed sharply, pulling his rapier from its sheath. "You? You look like you've been living in a forest for the past seven years, Blue. Me, I've been training." He lunged for the young man, but had to jump backwards as Blue sidestepped and jabbed at his arm. Twp hissed in pain as the tip of the 'Sue sword dragged across his hand.

Looking at the red blood running down the end of the sword, Blue grinned ferally. "Don't underestimate the forest," he said, watching his opponent intently. "I learned a lot there... weasel." Unexpectedly he lunged forward, but Twp swung his blade up and blocked. The sword flew out of Blue's hand, and Twp grinned.

"Didn't expect that, did-- YAEEE!" Blindly, Twp scrabbled at his face, feeling to his horror the knife hilt protruding from what had been his one good eye. Whimpering with pain, he squeaked, "You... my..." His rapier dropped from his fingers.

"Did you really think I'd only have one weapon?" Blue asked in the darkness. "Beginner's mistake, weasel. It's not one you'll get a chance to make again." Then... there was pain.

Chapter Fourteen - The Strongest Will Emerge To Wear The Crown

Tango drummed her fingers on the console. "Have you all forgotten there's a war on?" she demanded.

Steve pursed his lips. "I haven't," he said pointedly. "I just don't know what we can do."

"Nothing," Mortic said, turning in his chair to face the red-haired woman. "We can't do anything, Miss Dioxide. Ellie and I tried before - we had to turn back. It's dangerous out there."

"I spent seven years in danger," Tango said, straightening up. "Why did I keep watching them? So I could come back here and sit and wait while they destroy all we ever stood for?"

"What would you suggest?" Mortic snapped, but Elanor touched his arm and he settled down.

"What would you suggest?" the blonde asked gently, but Tango still shook her head.

"I don't know. You're right, there are a lot of them out there. What could we four achieve?" She sighed. "I don't know. I just... I can't stand just waiting."

There were a few moments of silence, and then Steve said, "I can think of something we can do. Something worthwhile." He looked around the small room. "It won't affect the course of the war, but... Ontic's out there. Elanor, our sister is alive. She's being used by these people, but... we can bring her home. We can save her."

"That's madness," Mortic replied instantly. "She's always been a willing member of the DIS -- of the Black Cats. Why would she want saving?"

"Because she's sick," Tango said quietly, "very sick. She's, well, messed up in the head."

Steve nodded. "She snapped on her first mission with Mort, here," he told her, "and never recovered. They tried to fix her when it happened, but they couldn't." He frowned. "There was another, a DIS Agent, he got brain damaged back during the Reorganisation. I seem to remember they were working on a technique to cure him, but he fled with the rest of them... I don't know. It might be able to help her." He glanced at Elanor. "We have to try, El."

Elanor nodded carefully. "I agree," she said softly. "There's a lot of confusion in a battle like this. I think we could almost pull Ontic out of the Cats' base, wherever it is, and not be noticed."

"Almost certainly the DIA's headquarters," Tango provided. "They'd definitely pick somewhere that's already set up for their purposes."

"This is madness," Mortic said to no one in particular. Elanor turned to look at him.

"Madness?" she asked calmly. "What would you do to save someone you loved?"

Mortic flinched. "That's not fair, Ellie. You were never--" He stopped uncertainly.

"I was a 'Sue, Mort," the blonde told him. "Yes, I was an enemy. But you still brought me back. Can we do any less for Ontic?"

Rubbing his eyes, Mortic sighed. "All right," he said, "all right. We'll do it. We'll go rescue the Black Cats' favourite psychopath. Yippee."

Elanor beamed at the other two. "Isn't he sweet?"

Dassie Hyrax drummed his fingers on the corridor wall. "I really thought it would work," he murmured.

His companion turned towards him, and where his eyes should be was a clean white bandage. "It's not your fault," Salamander said. "I suppose the Black Cats have started shutting down the portal generators."

"To keep the Agents in HQ," Dassie agreed, "but I didn't think they'd have reached Bad Slash yet. Unless there's a central computer..."

"If there is, it'd be in the DIA's complex," Salamander pointed out. "Should we head up there and," he winced slightly, "see?"

Dassie considered it for a moment, but shook his head. "Not with you like this. No, we'll go up to the Sunflower Official's office like we said." He glanced at the useless Remote Activator in his hand. "Only we'll walk, I guess."

"Better get started, then," Salamander replied with false cheer. "At least I don't have to worry about focussing on the route. Let's go this way." And he walked off down the corridor. Dassie stared after him, and then hurried along behind.

The pair walked at a decent pace, and Dassie had finally begun to hope that they might be nearing their destination when there was a sound of footsteps and four Agents walked briskly round the corner ahead of them. Two, a blonde woman and a man with short black hair, managed to stop in time, but the brown-haired man stumbled over Salamander's foot, while the other woman, a redhead, collided head-on with Dassie, sending them both crashing to the floor.

"Ow," Dassie muttered. "Ow, ow, ow." Levering himself into a sitting position, he looked across at the woman who had hit him. "You all right?" he asked.

"I think my dignity is broken," the redhead said in a muffled voice, and then sat up herself and looked at him. "Sorry about... do I know you?"

Dassie frowned. "I don't know," he said. "I've not been around for the last few years."

"Well, I... wait." The woman's eyes widened. "You!"

"... me?"

"You're one of them!" the woman screeched. "Steve, El, Mort -- he's one of them! Black Cat! Black Cat!"

"No!" Dassie exclaimed, and finally realised who she was. "Agent Dioxide, no, I-"

But there was no more time to protest. Still crying out for assistance, Tango Dioxide launched herself at him.

The Large Auditorium was filled with cries of anger and pain, flashes of high-energy light, and blood. Most of the blood was still contained in the appropriate bodies, but that would not last for long.

"Come on!" Agent India cried, turning to face the members of DAVD who were even now fanning out across the top rows of chairs. "All those with ranged weapons, fire at will; the rest of you, with me!" He charged down the long staircase, past the thousand seats that gave the room its name, and onto the floor, heading for the beleaguered Slashers in the middle.

In the melee surrounding the small group of PPC Agents, Serna Tjan looked up with a grin. "More targets!" she called to Parma Division. Impaling a Slasher with her sword, she turned to face the newcomers. "Time to die!" she called cheerfully. "Flamers -- take-"

Her order was drowned out by a sudden volley of fire from a new direction. It cut into the merging groups indiscriminately, felling Black Cats and PPC Agents alike. Serna felt a sharp pain in her right arm, and looked down to see a neat hole through the muscle, burned just below the end of her sleeve. Her eyes narrowed. "Kill them!" she screamed to the rest of her Division. "Kill them all!"

India watched in despair as the last few defenders were murdered by the new entrants. He assumed they were reinforcements for the DIS, but a single look dispelled that idea. They were Mary-Sues, wielding lightsabers, with an elderly man in a white robe at their head. The DAVDers fell back against the chairs, watching the DIS withdraw to the opposite side. For a moment, India caught the eye of the woman in the red top who seemed to be leading the DIS forces, now holding her left arm as if against an injury. She grimaced at him, then turned away, facing the new, more serious threat. India nodded. "Forget the DIS!" he called to his forces. "Attack the new-- uck!"

Vicious blue lightning flashed from the fingers of the old man leading the 'Sues, tracing jagged lines across the air before grounding themselves on the Agent who had caught Serna's eye. She watched him writhe in what had to be incredible agony before finally falling still, and shuddered. That could have been me, she thought. Grabbing a knife with her right hand, she flicked it across the space between her and the man in white.

Faster than sight, one of the corpses that littered the floor rose into the knife's path, blocking it. When it fell again, Serna saw the man's eyes were locked onto her. Amid all the confusion and death he stood calmly, lifted his hand, and clenched his fist. Serna's throat closed, cutting off all her air as if the distant hand were wrapped directly around it. Choking, she clutched at her neck, trying to loosen the invisible noose, but...

With a twist of his wrist, C'baoth snapped the neck of the woman - barely more than a girl! - who had dared to attack him. Spreading his fingers, he sent a storm of Force Lightning into the rabble she had led, joining it with the weapon-fire his followers were returning to their senders. Some of the Mary-Sues broke off as the enemy regrouped and charged, and the air was filled with the smell of cauterised flesh as lightsabers flashed through it. "See!" the Dark Jedi called out. "See how even together they cannot stand against us!" The 'Sues regrouped, forming a great wedge behind him, and together the Factory's army forced its way across the auditorium and on into the heart of PPC HQ.

There was a flare of blue light, and Dassie's view of Tango's angry face was blocked by a pair of black-clad legs. Then there was the sound of impact, and at least two people tumbled on top of him, one of them still trying to slash him with her fingernails. Desperately he pushed at the pair, sending them rolling away across the floor, and scrambled to his feet. A man with orange hair stood holding a Remote Activator and watching him curiously. "Selene's likely to kill your girlfriend," he said conversationally.

Dassie gasped for breath. "Not my anything," he said quickly. "She's trying to kill me. And-"

An incandescent bolt struck the wall beside his head. "Don't move a muscle," a strained voice said. "I may not be as impulsive as Tango, but if you so much as breathe too hard, the next one goes through your head."

Dassie swallowed hard, looking nervously at the brown-haired man holding the blaster. "The man who was with me is innocent," he said carefully. "He's Agent Salamander of the Department of Bad Slash, and he's had a very hard time of late." He looked back at the orange-haired Agent. "You need to take care of him, you and Selene," he said. "And... forgive me."

The Agent blinked. "What for?" he asked. Dassie took a deep breath, watched the blaster rise in warning.

"This," he said, and lunged forward. The man with orange hair went flying into the other Agent, and the blaster shot scorched the ceiling. Before any of the others could respond Dassie was running, running for his life. He knew now that his only hope was to get to someone who knew him. He had to find the SO's office, and fast.

There was a mental sigh following Penny's knock. Enter, the SO said. The Assassin pushed open the door and stepped in, her partner close behind with a disgruntled expression, Morgan and Traf immediately after. Once they were inside, Vemi leant against the wall while the other three stood in front of the Sunflower's desk.

"We've got trouble, sir," Traf began. "Morgan got a... um. Morgan, what...?"

"A message," the fair-haired woman supplied. "You know the sort I mean, sir."

Indeed. If anything, the Flower's tone was even drier than usual. Something fascinating, I have no doubt.

"A security breach," Morgan told him. "It meant someone was inside HQ who shouldn't be."

Somewhat like your initial arrival, then, the SO commented. I fail to see why this should interest me.

"We were coming up to tell you," Traf said, "when we bumped into these two. They knew what the security breach was about."

How nice for them.

"Oh, pay attention, will you?" Vemi snapped, straightening up. "They're trying to tell you something important."

The SO's bloom turned slowly to face her. Then they should speak faster, he said levelly.Were it that important, they would--

"It's the DIS," Penny interrupted, glancing at the two DMS Agents. "They were coming up here to kill you. Vemi and I fought them off. Is that serious enough for you?"

... the DIS. I see. The Flower's petals quivered slightly. Agent Penny, I realise your job is rather stressful, but even you should realise that the DIS were driven out of Headquarters some seven years past.

"I told you he wouldn't believe us," Vemi snorted. "Tell me now that I was wasting time."

"All right, all right," Penny agreed irritably. "Well done, you win. Show him."

Vemi strode forward to the SO's desk and pulled something from her sleeve. Shaking the silver sash out, she laid it in front of him. The black cat badge was clearly displayed. "The DIS are back," she said to the Flower. "Either believe us, or let us get out of here and deal with them ourselves."

The Head of the DMS was staring at the sash. This... is very worrying, he said at last. We had supposed... but we underestimated the Bracket Fungus. He was a dangerous opponent.

"I'd say is," Morgan put in. "Sir... I know these people. They were deadly back when they were still pretending to follow the rules. Who knows what they're capable of now?"

Vemi sniffed. "I honestly don't know why you're all so worried," she said. "They weren't exactly good fighters, were they, Pen?"

"Not when they were busy running away, no," Penny half agreed. "I'd imagine it'll be different when they're expecting us - or when there's ten times as many of them."

Indeed, the SO said. The DIS are a grave threat, Agents, and if they truly have returned, the PPC is in more danger than it has been for a long time.

"What, more than the 'Sue invasion back in '03?" Vemi asked. "I mean, that was pretty bad, think of what happened to poor Makes-Things."

Far worse, the Sunflower confirmed. The DIS nearly destroyed us once before. I do not wish to give them a second chance.

"What can we do, sir?" Traf asked. "Will it be like last time? Will you organise us to fight them?"

I rather think I have no choice, the Flower sighed. Open war in HQ... this will not go down well with Building Maintenance. He looked at the four Assassins. And who will lead our forces? You four? You aren't leaders. Vemi looked affronted, but Penny nudged her and she remained silent. I wish... but no. Our best in the last fight have long since left.

On the far side of the room the office door opened silently. The Sunflower Official raised his blossom as the Agents looked round to see who the intruder was, Vemi's knife already in her hand. The figure in the doorway gave a nervous, manic grin. "I have brought someone to see you, please and thank you," she said, and stepped to one side.

The SO's petals curled compulsively. You, he said in an uncertain tone.

Nyx Nightingale swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Me."

Chapter Fifteen - He Asked You To Believe

You came back.

Nyx Nightingale nodded slightly. "The Cats... you don't know what they've become, Sunflower Official."

I remember what they were, the SO replied. I remember the Agents who have vanished.

"Oh!" Kayleigh exclaimed, and the pair turned to look at her. She blushed. "Sorry. I just remembered that I should apologise to DAVD for saying that was their fault." Then she frowned. "And I need to remove the bomb, too."

... Agent Nightingale, the SO said, and when Nyx flinched, he corrected himself, Nyx. We drove you away. I, I sent you into the DIS with no backup. I shunned you when you returned. But now... we need you. The computer network is down, but now that I know who it is we face, I know that we cannot face them alone. He held his blossom steady, looking at her. Miss Nightingale... please. Help us.

Nyx looked at him. "You drove us away, as you said. Dassie was utterly unable to help himself... I had to do everything for him, Sunflower." Her eyes narrowed. "The best time we had was two years ago; we spent more than nine months safe and happy in the Star Wars 'verse." Her fists clenched unconsciously. "We lost so much when we left... we had a daughter, did you know that?" she snapped. "My beautiful Tia, and we had to leave her there, abandon her to the care of someone we barely knew."

The SO's petals folded inwards slightly, his stem slumping. What we did was unforgivable, he said quietly.

"Yes," Nyx replied grimly, "it was." Then she looked around the room. "And yet... and yet. These Agents here had no part in that, even those who had good reason to hate me." She glanced at Penny. "I remember that day in the cafeteria, you know."

"So do I," the Assassin said quietly, ignoring her partner's curious look. "But I know the enemy now, and they are not you."

Nyx closed her eyes. "So much history. So many hurts. But they are history." Looking again at the SO, she took a deep breath. "Sunflower Official..." She bit her lip, shook her head sharply.

Nyx, the Sunflower said gently, you've been running for a long time. There... there was a time when you had a home here. He raised a leaf above the desk, holding it in her direction. Will you come back, Nyx? This is our most desperate hour. Will you lead us? You are our only hope of victory. He tilted his bloom slightly towards her. In spite of all that was done to you...

"In memory of the things that were," Nyx replied quietly, and lifted her head to fix her gaze on him. "For the love of Canon... against the atrocities of the Black Cats... for all the futures of all the worlds, yes, Sunflower Official, I will join you." She looked around the room. "And if the Protectors will follow, I will lead."

"We'll follow," Penny said quickly, and at her side Vemi nodded.

"These Cats are a menace to everyone," the brunette said, and she seemed almost to glow as she drew her long knife, flipped it, and held it out blade-first to Nyx. "If you need it, you have my blade," she said, ignoring Penny's gasp.

Nyx smiled, and in a single quick movement pulled her gladius from her belt and held it out for all to see. "I have my own sword," she said, and then pointed it at Morgan and Traf. "What about you?" she asked. "Will you listen to an exile's orders?"

Traf Elosia smiled. "I remember your Dassie," she said. "I recruited him. I know who he is, and I know that he would only love someone who is worthy of it. I'll follow you, Agent Nightingale."

"As will I," Morgan declared. "You remind me of a man I once knew... a great man. Anyone who is like him has my loyalty any day."

"I'm with you, too!" Kayleigh piped up from the doorway, and Nyx smiled to see that her mace had once again appeared from nowhere. The former Assassin turned to look at her Head of Department.

You were born to be a leader, the SO said firmly. You would have ruled Ukraine had you remained there. But... I, for one, am glad we recruited you.

"And so am I," Nyx said decisively. Sheathing her sword, she nodded. "All right, ladies and foliage, let's see what we can do about this little infestation you've got."

Weed-23 let out a small mental sigh. When she'd agreed to go on patrol with Agent Kyaris from Intelligence, she hadn't realised the Hydra was so... well, chatty.

"It's not often I get outside in my own form," she was saying, her three heads swinging around constantly to take everything in. "People have a distressing habit of trying to kill me, and I like my heads. So this is quite a treat, really. Not that it's not tragic what's happening in HQ," she added hurriedly, glancing at the third member of the scout group.

Charlotte Hust, DIA, smiled thinly, rubbing the still-healing wound on her cheek. "I understand," she said. "But, much as you're enjoying the view, could you do your job, too? There's two Flowers coming towards us from the west."

Weed-23 span around, seeds flying from her head as she focussed on the casually-announced intruders. Kyaris' response was even more immediate; spreading her heads wide, she turned them all on the approaching Plants, the wide spacing giving her an absolute three-dimensional fix on their position, ready to strike. Charlotte, in contrast, calmly drew her sidearm and aimed it at the nearer of the two.

Declare yourselves and your intent, Weed-23 called, and then ducked behind Kyaris, uncomfortably aware that she was the only unarmed member of the team.

One of the approaching pair, the one with a large purple primary blossom, touched the reed-like Plant next to her on a leaf. The Gladiolus stopped, her companion coming forward a few more feet first. I really hope you're with the PPC, the Nightshade said, her blossom visibly drooping. We need to speak to someone in charge. The situation has become much more complicated.

"... and when I woke up, Kayleigh was there," Salamander said. "That was about it. Dassie and Nyx brought us back here, and Dassie took me down to Medical. We were on our way up to see the SO when you and that other lot showed up."

Narto nodded thoughtfully. 'That other lot' had included Tango Dioxide, one of the two people who had accompanied his sister to the PPC so many years ago. He'd actually wanted to talk to her, but there had been no chance -- the quartet had set off again towards whatever their destination was, leaving him and Selene to look after Salamander.

"I've never been fond of felines," Selene said with a grimace, "but that sort of torture... how could anyone who's ever been in the PPC do that to anyone? Other than a 'Sue, obviously."

"The worst part is," Salamander said, "I think they thought they were being kind. After all, they left me alive, didn't they?" He laughed a hollow laugh. "If Dassie hadn't tripped over my leg, I'd probably be spider-bait by now."

"I can't imagine being blind," Narto said sympathetically. "It must be awful..."

"It's not so bad now," Salamander replied with a shrug. "My hearing's been getting better, and I've got my balance back. But no, it's not exactly pleasant."

The orange-haired Pyro frowned. "Can't Medical-" He was cut off by a woman in what seemed to be mostly black lace pushing past him.

"So sorry," she said, "I vas just trying to... oh."

Selene swung around at the sound of the newcomer's voice, even as Narto scrabbled backwards. "You!" the vampire exclaimed, and thrust a hand in Lady Zhevago's direction. A flurry of lightning sprung from the ceiling as Selene's eyes burned red, but Zhevago threw herself to the side and avoided injury. Then she was up and running, easily evading the next electrical storm. Selene bared her teeth and started running herself. Narto jumped to his feet and headed after her.

"Look after Sal!" the vampire called over her shoulder. "I'll handle this!" For a second her body seemed to flow like water, and then in her place stood a large black wolf which leapt after the fleeing Black Cat. Narto slowed to a stop, watching her go, and then shrugged and walked back to Salamander.

"I guess that explains her dislike of cats," he commented idly. "I wonder how she got on with the Great Goddess. Her old partner was Bast's High Priest, you know."

Salamander tilted his head curiously. "I have no idea what you're talking about," the blind Slasher said, "but it sounds fascinating. Keep talking."

The Tiger Lily and Sub Rosa stood on either side of Captain Dandy, watching the two Flowers in front of them intently. So, Dandy said, Nightshade, Gladiolus. It has been a very long time.

The Nightshade nodded her bloom slightly. We've not seen you since the Cascade, Captain, she said in a subdued tone. But even the Sub Rosa... seven years is a long time.

Enough time for change to take place? the Sub Rosa asked. You were the Mysterious Somebody's closest advisor, and you, Gladiolus, you went with him when he left. Why should we trust you in the slightest?

The Nightshade's petals folded in slightly. I was his secretary, she said. Do you know what that word used to mean? Secretary. I knew the Mys- C'baoth's secrets. And the things I saw... I could not countenance what he did to Agent Dassie. That's when the Orchid and I started working against him. We're the reason he didn't flood HQ with Warrior!Sues as soon as you kicked him out.

And where is the Orchid? the Tiger Lily asked nastily. All this talk, but the Flower herself is -

Dead, the Gladiolus interrupted flatly. The Mysterious Somebody killed her. We tried to overthrow him.

... oh, you poor fools, the Sub Rosa said sadly. You would never be able to defeat that man. Only someone he trusts completely could do that, and you, Gladiolus, you had far too much to gain by his death for him to allow that.

Then you may as well give up now, the Nightshade snapped. You'll never drive him out of HQ if-

HQ? the Tiger Lily exclaimed. He's inside Headquarters? She rounded on Captain Dandy. You were supposed to prevent that!

The doors were all sealed, the Dandelion said with maddening calm, but they are hardly indestructible. I can only imagine he broke on of them down.

You should have left them guarded! the Tiger Lily shouted. This should never have been allowed to happen!

And who's going to guard them? Dandy retorted, his calm demeanour shattered. Do you know how many Agents I have? One hundred and seven! And with that you want me to guard every single door into HQ?

You will both calm down, the Sub Rosa said forcefully, or I will have Agent Architeuthis take you both somewhere until you do. You don't want to underestimate her. She looked between the two until the Tiger Lily folded her petals in acquiescence, and Dandy bowed his bloom. Thank you. Now, Nightshade, Gladiolus... are you on our side now?

The Nightshade glanced at her companion and then nodded. We are, she said. I've been outside far too long. If you'll take us, we'll join the PPC again.

Good, the Rose said, and leant forward onto the desk between her and them. Now, let's run over what C'baoth has on hand, and see if we can't figure out how to smash him into a million pieces.

Nyx leant over the SO's console, frowning. "Why someone in the PPC would so completely abandon punctuation is beyond me," she muttered. Then she glanced over her shoulder at the Sunflower. "Boss, don't you ever read these messages?"

Oh, I never read anything on the computer, the Flower told her. It's usually Agents whining or threatening me, not worth it.

"Well, this isn't," Nyx said grimly, pressing a button to project her view onto the wall of the office. "From the look of it, someone out there is sending you reports from, well, all over the place. Wherever the Cats are, she's watching." Carefully manipulating the touch screen, she brought up a two-dimensional projection of the map of HQ, then moved the text of the messages around, seemingly at random.

"I like that," Kayleigh said. "It's pretty. Ooh!" She pointed at a space near the bottom of the screen. "Put one down there!" Nyx shook her head distractedly, still working.

After a few moments more she straightened up. "All right. It's very approximate, but this is roughly where the reports are coming from. Kay, this one is where we were attacked." She tapped a fractured red line. "Penny, I think this is the path you followed. There's a few reports along the way, they seem to match your description." She frowned again. "I don't know, there's something about our informer... she seems to be everywhere."

That is the value of portal technology, the Sunflower Official said calmly. Perhaps you have forgotten?

"It's not right," Nyx insisted. "But whoever they are, they can't be watching us in here. They couldn't know who was in here, so the fact that I've managed to place those particular events means it's probably accurate information. Which means... well, look. There's a space here with no reports coming from it. What's in there?"

"Some very lucky Agents?" Traf suggested. Nyx shook her head.

"No. I think it's their base of operations. It's so secure that even our spy can't get inside."

Then we are in a great deal of trouble, the SO announced. That space you've outlined corresponds almost exactly to the Department of Internal Affairs' headquarters. They are our primary defence against attack.

Nyx smiled grimly. "Not any more they aren't. Right now, we are the biggest threat to the Cats." She glanced at the screen again. "Well, almost. There's a couple of reports of fighting down near Finance - the Large Auditorium, the Mongoose Shelter, the Miss Cam Courtyard - so I think one of the other Departments is mobilising."

"It could be DAVD," Kayleigh suggested. "They're down there." The others looked at her, and she shrugged. "I still think they're evil, all right? So I know where they lurk."

"... all right, it could be DAVD," Nyx agreed. "But whoever they are, they're not a threat. The threat is the main force of Cats, which is probably in this empty area - DIA Central." She looked over at Penny. "And that's where the groups we all encountered ended up."

"Then we have to go and get them," Vemi said, drawing a dagger and tossing it from hand to hand. "They're a danger, and we should take them out."

Nyx pursed her lips. "They're a significant danger," she said. "There's only six of us here, and I need stay and coordinate here. Kayleigh is... um, I'd like to keep her nearby, too."

"She likes me," Kayleigh said seriously. Nyx coughed.

"So there's four of you. There were twenty or so of them, by the reports. You'll need reinforcements."

"Well, we know a few people," Morgan said, straightening up. "We can... let me look at that map?" She walked across as Nyx cleared away the reports, marking the target with a red cross. "Right, we can head through the main body of DMS Response Centres as we go," she said, rapidly tracing with her finger a bewildering path that occasionally skipped from one side of the map to the other. "We should be able to pick up a decent sized force. Not everyone will be willing, but we can do it."

Nyx nodded slowly. "All right," she decided. "I... be careful, all right? I don't want to lose anyone this time."

Morgan smiled at her. "We'll do our best."

Flickerbright hovered over her console, occasionally flitting back and fourth in a sort of nervous twitch. "They're taking far too long," she complained.

"Twp knows what he's doing," Nendil told her calmly. "He's perfectly competent." There was a snort from across the room, and the elf turned in his seat. "Do you have a comment, Sims?" he asked mildly.

Jasmine Sims blushed and ducked her head. "No, sir," she said, "sorry, sir." From the cushions next to her, Mkellin laughed weakly.

"So polite," he murmured. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Jasmine looked down at him and shook her head gently. "Maybe someday I'll tell you," she said. Kell smiled up at her.

"I'd like that, I think."

"Oh, good grief," Flickerbright broke in. "Would you two just stop-!"

There was a burst of blue light, and a black-clad figure fell out of nowhere onto the floor. The Cats scrambled for their weapons - all except Ontic, who instead muttered, "Nine hundred and fifty-three," and picked up a new sheet of paper - but then Kell held up a hand.

"Wait," the Scout-master said, sitting up with some help from Jasmine. "Isn't that... Caraway, isn't it? From Parma Division?"

The figure didn't move for a moment, and then lifted its head. A gasp rippled through the room as the Cats saw the scorched, scarred face, so unlike the youthful flamer Caraway. The woman looked at them through one blurry eye, the other apparently unable to open. She coughed, and blood spattered the grey floor. "Too many," she said, her voice harsh. "Tjan is dead. Twp is gone. I..." She coughed again, a sharp, grating sound which spoke of lungs too ravaged to keep her going.

"Who was it?" Nendil asked, leaving his seat to cross to her side. "Caraway, who did this? The Agents?" He touched her hair in an oddly tender gesture, smoothing it over the patches of skin where it had been torn away.

"A... gents?" Caraway shook her head very slightly. "Not them. I don't..." She shuddered, one hand curling into a fist before relaxing again.

"Caraway, we need to know," Nendil Morifëa said gently. "Who was it?"

The Black Cat looked up at him through pain streaked eyes. "C'baoth is here," she whispered, then let out a little sigh and slumped against the floor.

Nendil stood up, abandoning the body where it lay. "C'baoth," he said into the silence. "The Mysterious Somebody. Our one-time ally. He did this to one of our Agents - by the sound of it, to the whole of Parma Division. The PPC haven't been able to do much more than wound our scouts, but the MS took out a significant portion of our force. He is the main threat to us now."

"And who's going to deal with him?" Jasmine spoke up. "Parma is gone, our division is a mess, and I don't even know where Tinco and Calma are."

"Leave the planning to the grown-ups, girl," Flickerbright snapped, and then turned to Nendil. "We can have Tinco and Calma meet us before we reach him," she suggested. "Zhevago's incommunicado, but you have the authority to call her division in. We know he's near Finance, we can find him from there. Let's nip this threat in the bud and get on with taking down the PPC."

Nendil considered this for a moment, and then looked across at the bulk of the Bracket Fungus. "It seems like a good idea, sir," he said.

Hmm? The Fungus stirred, propping himself up. Oh... yes, I concur. We must face this threat directly.

Nendil frowned. "We, sir? You know you're... um." He stopped. There wasn't really a polite way to refer to the fact that the Bracket Fungus was particularly prone to decay. He wasn't even from the first generation of Plants, but he was already slipping into senility. A few more years, and Nendil would likely have to take direct control of the Cats... but time enough for that later. "Wouldn't you be better in an organisational position, sir?" he rephrased his remark.

Not at all, the Fungus said. The Mysterious Somebody is a very serious threat, and I intend to be there when he falls. Come, Cats, let us away. Dropping down from his perch on the desk, he headed for the door.

Nendil looked after him with a concerned expression, but said, "All right, you heard the boss. Flicks, you contact the two divisions and give them a rendezvous point. Everyone else, with me."

"Nine hundred and ninety nine," Ontic said loudly, and looked around. Her face fell into a pout. "Aww, no more paper." She scanned the room for a few moments more, then shrugged, stood up, and walked over to Nendil, crushing some of the hundreds of paper cranes that surrounded her former perch. "So," she said, drawing her sword and grinning at the elf, "what are we going to kill?"

The Mysterious Somebody stood in front of his army and examined them. Some had been injured, many - despite their obvious superiority - had been slain and now littered the route they had taken, but that was all right. Through his controlling link the MS could feel the beginnings of fear or doubt and ruthlessly crush them. That was the true nature of power, of course - to hold a person's soul in the cusp of your hand, even one of these crude imitations.

At an unspoken command one of his lieutenants stepped forward. C'baoth smiled at the sight of the dark-haired young man - it had been a stroke of genius to pattern the leaders of his army after who he did, he had to admit. "Eleven thirty-eight," he said, "I am leaving you in command of my forces."

The clone's eyes widened imperceptibly, showing the trace of individuality his master still allowed him and his kind, but he did not dare to argue. "Yes, Lord," he said, bowing his head. "Have you instructions for us?"

The Mysterious Somebody shrugged, his silver hair falling around his shoulders. "Simply continue as before," he said. "None can stand before you. If the attrition rate becomes too high, contact the Bindweed on my authority and she will send a second batch." The Jedi Master looked over his army once more and smiled thinly. "I will be watching you," he said, and strode away.

Thirty-eight watched his Master go, feeling the touch on his mind grow slightly fainter before stabilising, and then turned to his new army. "All right," he said, "we need to move on. This corridor hampers our efficiency. We must-"

The hallway at his back vanished, replaced by a barrier of blue light that stretched from wall to wall. Thirty-eight span around and stared in horror as a reptilian beast, a four-headed fiend, pushed through to stand in front of him. His shock lasted only a moment before he grabbed a lightsaber from the nearest Mary Sue and struck. One of the creature's heads tumbled to the floor, neatly severed, and as it hissed in pain Thirty-eight felt a surge of triumph. Then two of the other heads swung round and grabbed his arms, teeth breaking his skin, and in dismay he watched the stump bulge and regrow, two heads where there had been one. The nearer of the two turned on him. "That hurt," it growled, and lunged.

Kyaris dropped the tatters that had been a mockery of human life and spread her heads wide. To her left, three figures stepped (or in one case, moved indefinably) through the portal into HQ. "I knew we kept you around for a reason," Architeuthis said approvingly.

Dúros Black surveyed the shocked Factory army. "That's a lot of 'Sues, you know," he commented.

Weed-One's petals spread, then folded in. All the better, he said with an air of grim satisfaction. I always liked target-rich environments. Lifting a silver communicator to his blossom, he pressed a switch. Captain, Sub Rosa, Tiger Lily - we're in. Send them through.

Chapter Sixteen - With Fire

The Black Cats moved swiftly through HQ, more than two hundred strong now. As they began to hear the sounds of battle ahead, Nendil held up a hand and stopped. The Cats halted in orderly fashion behind him, and he turned to Mkellin, who was just about able to support himself, and was eying the group with an even more grim expression than usual. "You're not up to this," he said flatly.

The Scout Master shook his head. "It's not our forte at the best of times," he said, with a sideways look, "and with my division so injured... no, we're not. And... no."

Nendil nodded. "Hang back," he advised. "Guard our retreat. With C'baoth in Headquarters we don't know what we'll face."

Mkellin nodded, and with an effort stood up straight. "Bracket Fungus, sir," he announced, "my Scouts will put aside our desire to revenge ourselves on the PPC and remain here. Should anything go wrong-"

Nothing will go wrong, the Fungus said sternly. Nothing can. Beside him, Ontic giggled, high-pitched.

"It's all coming together," she declared. "The white and the black and the grey, all rushing at one another. And two will fall..." She laughed, and started chanting: "When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back, three from-"

Agent Laison! the Bracket Fungus snapped, and she stared at him in shocked silence. We will have no more of that! We are here, and he turned to address the Cats as a whole, to rain destruction on our enemies, the so-called Protectors. If any of you are unwilling to fight, I will have no further part of you. If any of you oppose me, I will have you cut down without hesitation. Is that understood? he asked, turning to Mkellin.

The Scout's eyes narrowed. "Perfectly," he said coldly. "You, sir, are completely insane. I joined the PPC to fight against Chaos and preserve the worlds. I joined the Black Cats because I could see how corrupt the PPC was becoming, and knew it needed cleansing. But now I see the corruption was not in them - it was in you." He spat on the generic surface floor. "You are rotten, you creature of Chaos, and from this moment I sever all ties with you. Scouts!" he called, turning away from the shocked leaders of the Black Cats. "We're leaving! Sims, you lead us out of here, I'll guard the rear." He smiled thinly. "Just in case anyone gets any ideas."

"Got it, Kell," Jasmine called back. "All right, guys and gals, you heard the boss. Ordered retreat, as fast as you can. Follow me!"

As the Scout Division moved swiftly back in the direction they'd come, Mkellin turned back to the Bracket Fungus and bowed low. "You will fall," he said. "I only hope they let you linger." Then he was gone, vanishing into the shadows that plague even HQ.

There was a loud banging on the SO's office door. Nyx frowned. "They can't be coming back already, surely."

Doubtless it is one of my Assassins come to remonstrate with me, the Sunflower said dryly. Agent Leonard, if you would be so kind.

"I am kind!" Kayleigh said brightly. There was a long moment of silence.

"... I think he wants you to open the door, Kayleigh," Nyx said. Kayleigh's eyes widened.

"Ohhh! Well, why didn't he say so?" Walking over, she pulled the grey door open. "Hi! The SO is busy right now, but if you'd like to- hey!" The tousle-haired figure on the other side had lunged with his sword, slicing through the side of the Slasher's shirt. Kayleigh swung her mace at his head, but he ducked and struck at her again, only to crumple to the floor as the heavy weapon switched direction in mid-swing and crushed his skull. The whole fight had taken less than a second, and only after it was over did Nyx have time to react to her horrified recognition.

"Dassie--!"

Kayleigh looked up, mace gone again, lips pressed tightly together. "That wasn't Dassie," she said grimly.

Nyx's sword was out and levelled at the woman's throat in a flash. "You killed him!" she shouted hysterically. "All these years and you-- die!"

Kayleigh threw herself backwards, avoiding the thrust. "Fine!" she called. "If you won't listen to me, listen to him!" With an outflung arm she indicated the slightly breathless man standing to one side of the door.

Nyx turned and stared. Her gladius dropped from suddenly limp fingers. "D... Dassie?"

Dassie Hyrax waved slightly. "Hi, Nyx," he said, and then, "Oof!" as Nyx flung herself at him and clung.

"You're alive! But..." The dark-haired woman glanced back at the bleeding body. "... okay." She closed her eyes for a moment, steadied her breathing. "Dassie-love, what's going on?"

"The Mysterious Somebody," the man replied. "He's brought an army from, well, wherever he went to. An army of Mary-Sues."

The Mary-Sue Factory, the Sunflower Official supplied. We've long suspected him of taking over that facility, and this is just the time he would make his move.

Dassie looked past the still-clinging Nyx. "Hi, sir," he said. "It's been a long time."

Far too long, the SO agreed. But don't stand around in the corridor, Agen-- I mean, Dassie. Won't you come in?

When the three humans had reentered the office, shutting the corpse outside, Dassie squeezed Nyx's hand reassuringly and went on. "So this army of his... it's massive, Nyx. He's cutting through Black Cats and Agents alike."

"We may need to adjust our plans, then," Nyx said with a frown. "But I don't see how this explains... oh, no." She stared at her lover. "The Mysterious Somebody. No, Dassie..."

"'fraid so," Dassie said. "One of the last things he did to me back then, he took a blood sample. And he's a clone himself. I should have expected this." He sighed. "Magic," he murmured, and then shook his head and laughed softly.

Nyx looked over her shoulder at the now closed door and swallowed. "But this means... how will we know which one is really you?" she asked.

Dassie smiled, reached out, ruffled her hair. "I guess you'll have to keep me in sight at all times," he said. Then he looked her straight in the eyes. "And then kill them all."

Steve stuck his head round the corner and immediately pulled it back, a thoughtful look on his face. "What?" Elanor asked. "What did you see?"

Steve looked across at her. "At the end of the corridor there's a giant Tumbleweed fighting a woman with a pink lightsaber," he said, looking puzzled. "Doesn't sound much like the Black Cats to me."

Tango's lips tightened. "The Mary-Sue Factory," she surmised. "I would have thought you'd have destroyed it."

"We didn't even know where it was," Mortic said irritably. "I was in on some of the SO's councils about the issue. He did believe you and Blue, you know - afterwards, I mean." He shook his head. "We spent a long time hunting for it, until the number of Agents we were losing got too great."

Tango sighed. "Well, somebody knew where it was," she said, and then looked back at Steve. "Any sign of the Cats?"

"Nothing," the man informed her. "There's only..." He peered round again, then blinked. "Okay, now there's a little fairy sprinkling dust over the two of them. Am I seeing things?"

"Let me look." Tango nudged him out of the way and glanced at the fight herself. When she turned back to the groups she was frowning. "Flickerbright," she said. "She and her fairies have poison dust. We have to be careful."

"And she's a Black Cat?" Elanor asked. Tango nodded. "Then let's stop hanging around here. We have to rescue Ontic." She shot a look at Steve for reassurance, and he smiled.

"She's been lost a very long time. Let's not drag it out any longer."

At the end of the corridor they passed the prone body of the 'Sue, glitter bleeding from dozens of small wounds, her face swollen and agonized. Of the fairy and the Tumbleweed there was no sign. Around the next corner was all-out war.

Outside the Tomb of the Unknown PPC Agent, formerly DIS Central, the Black Cats had met their foes, and the result was a three-way melee unlike any other. At one end of the wide corridor Joel Weaver was being ruthlessly assailed by the Hust twins, while at the other Architeuthis held her own against three redheaded 'Sues. Many had already fallen - rubble was all that remained of the troll Erratic, and a pair of broken Dandelions lay against the wall next to one of the three hydra heads severed from Kyaris. At the heart of the battle, where the fighting was thickest, the leaders of the three sides flung themselves relentlessly at one another. Above it all the fairies of Tinco Division hovered, waiting for their opportunity. None of this was what occupied the quartet's attention.

Staring in shock, Steve said quietly, "Tango, do you...?"

"I see it," Tango replied in a stunned tone. "That Cat we ran into..."

"Why would there be so many clones of him?" Mortic asked wonderingly. Elanor, her eyes following the action, shook her head.

"It's not right. They're not with the Cats, look." She frowned. "If anything, they're fighting alongside the 'Sues."

Tango grimaced. "I don't care how evil he is," she said, "it must be awful to have that done to you. And I can't imagine what his colleagues think."

"There she is," Mortic cut in tensely, pointing. In the thick of the battle, under attack by two Dassie clones and Agent Irvine of the DIA, her face locked in a grim expression, was Ontic. Her blades whirled with impossible speed, directed with skill bordering on the supernatural straight to the gaps in her foes' defences. The clones fell, heads severed, and Irvine would have followed suit had he not leapt back to safety, allowing a 'Sue and a DES Wild Rose to take his place.

Tango shook her head slowly. "That woman... you want to rescue her?"

"Yes," Elanor snapped. "She is our sister, Tango. Do you expect us to just abandon her? Would you abandon a relative, a friend, to the DIS?"

Tango flinched visibly. "I... oh, stars." She bit her lip hard, and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't... look, just forget it." Blinking rapidly, she looked back at the fight. "How can we do it?"

The plan, as it turned out, was absurdly simple, but relied heavily on a stroke of luck. Cutting down the Wild Rose, Ontic found herself in a free space and looked around, eyes narrowed, sword and dagger dripping with blood. The nearest enemies were all engaged by other Black Cats, who seemed to be handling things (although she noted absently that Weaver from Calma had been rather messily killed), but further away from the centre of the battle there were others. She made her way through the press, slicing the head off a Dassie clone absently, and made for a pair of 'Sues.

That was about the time a vision from her past stepped out in front of her and spoke her name. Ontic Laison froze solid.

"Elanor--!" Tango dashed out and grabbed the woman's shoulder, bringing her sword up in front of them. "She's dangerous, whoever she is! You can't just--"

"Apparently I can," Elanor said calmly. "Hello, Ontic."

"... E... El... Elanor?" The dark-haired woman's voice was weak, broken.

"Yes, Ontic," Elanor confirmed gently. "It's been a long time."

"A long... no!" Ontic's sword came up sharply, and Tango took a rapid step back before realising Elanor hadn't moved. "You can't be here! It's a lie!"

"I'm here," Elanor repeated. "It's true. I've come to get you."

"Can't be," Ontic mumbled, her sword dropping from her fingers. "I saw, but no they said, then they said you were, but that can't be true, but they can't have lied, can't have." She was staring at her sister, but there was no comprehension in her eyes. "They wouldn't lie. I'd know if they'd lied. Wouldn't I know? I'd know. I'd have to know."

Carefully, gesturing to Mortic to stay out of sight, Steve stepped into Ontic's field of view. "It's us, Ontic," he said carefully. "We've come to take you home."

"Home... home?" The woman -- the girl who had never grown up -- stared at her family. "I... home. I."

"Home," Elanor repeated softly, and held out a hand. "Come with us, Ontic. Come home."

Ontic stretched out over what felt like a million years and took the blonde's hand. Once she had it, she felt she could never let go. Everything she was seemed to be focussed in that one soft palm, such that she barely felt her legs start to walk, and when there was a cry of rage behind her, she didn't even blink.

The others did. As Nendil Morifëa of the Black Cats hurtled towards the fleeing PPCers and their rescued captive, Tango and Steve both swung their swords up to intercept him. The elf passed wide of Steve's effort, but had to stop short in front of Tango. His own lethal blade came out and he swung angrily at the redhead. Steel crashed against blackened steel, and Tango staggered back under the impact.

"Go!" the woman called over her shoulder. "I'll hold him off!"

"But..." Steve looked between her and Ontic, agony in his eyes. "Tango...!"

Nendil's sword flashed down again, clashing against Tango's. "Go, Steve!" she shouted again, and then turned to the elf, blocking his next strike. "You ruined my life, Nendil," she growled.

"You ruined your own life, Dioxide," Nendil replied. "We gave you every opportunity to succeed, and how did you repay us? You murdered two Agents."

"Your pawn tried to kill me!" Tango lunged, but Nendil ducked to the side and swung his own weapon, catching her left arm with the point of his blade. He grinned.

"First blood, Dioxide. You Assassins were never up to our standard."

Tango's eyes narrowed. Ignoring the pain in her arm, she launched into a bewilderingly fast offensive that pushed Nendil back towards the battle that still raged outside the Tomb of the Unknown PPC Agent. Her sword was a silver blur, expertly countered at every point by Nendil's dark blade. Nendil grimaced. "You've been practicing," he accused. The redhead grinned ferally.

"I've spent seven years watching you, Blackheart. I've hunted your scouts, I've stolen your equipment, and I have waited for a chance like this." Her sword twisted in mid-stroke, rolling over Nendil's and slashing into his left shoulder. The silver sash split and fell away, and Tango nodded. "Now we're even," she told him, and stepped forward, crushing the badge under her heel as she drove her adversary back.

"You'll never be my equal," Nendil snarled, and lunged. Tango's blade, already falling, slashed down his arm, but he ignored it in favour of landing his own blow.

Tango Dioxide limped backwards, biting back a scream at the sharp pain in her hip. Nendil stood, watching her, blood dripping from his sword. "You are a complete-"

"The word you want is winner," Nendil said calmly, and began his attack anew. Now it was Tango who was driven backwards, limping on one dislocated leg. She kept up her defence as best she could, but more and more of Nendil's jabbing strikes got through. She could feel her trousers growing heavier, soaking through with her own blood, and knew she only had a few minutes left.

Then there was a flash of silver and suddenly Steve was there, his sword blocking Nendil's, his body between the two of them. "No you don't," the Agent snapped, slashing past the surprised elf's guard and battering his wrist. Nendil's sword flew from his hand, and Steve smirked. "Call yourself a fighter?" he asked.

Nendil looked after his sword for a moment, and then shrugged. Whipping a dagger from an unseen sheath, the Black Cat threw himself forward, the knife aimed perfectly at Steve's heart. There was a sickening crunch, and the body fell to the floor.

Breathing hard, Tango looked down at Nendil. "Not a chance," she said, and plunged her bloody sword through the centre of his back. The elf gasped once, his hands clawing at her leg, and then was still. Pulling her blade out, Tango turned to look at Steve. "Well?"

The stunned Agent blinked. "Um... thank you?" he said. "I really thought he'd got me there."

"Not that," Tango said irritably. "What are you doing back here, Steve? I told you to go."

"I did go," Steve said indignantly. "I went halfway down to Medical with El and Mortic before I realised what I was doing."

"Getting your sister to safety?" Tango said snidely, and then staggered as the blood loss kicked in. Instead of the floor, though, she found herself hitting a warm body, and Steve's arms closed around her, supporting her.

"No," Steve Dimond said, holding her close. "I was abandoning a very good friend - a woman I rather think I love."

Tango clung to him and wept, wept at the pain from her wounds, at the horror of having killed someone, and at the joy of finally being home.

"It's all junk!" Kayleigh exclaimed. "I have to save Toby!" Leaping from her seated position against the wall, she threw the office door back and ran out into HQ.

Nyx looked at the open door, at the SO, and then back at Dassie. "Translation?"

Dassie shrugged. "She didn't like my abandoning him, so she's gone to find Salamander?"

It appears Agent Leonard has watched Labyrinth a few too many times, the Sunflower put in. Nyx blinked, then turned and stared at him.

"I'm sorry... what?"

Labyrinth, the Flower repeated patiently. It's a movie from some time ago, starring-

"Yes, we went to the premiere a couple of times," Nyx said vaguely. "How do you know about it?"

... ah. The Sunflower had the decency to look embarrassed. We've had a couple of... incidents. Best forgotten.

"Ah, well," Dassie said, nodding sagely, "no one can blame you for walking away."

... please do not do that.

"Don't tell me," Nyx put in. "Truth hurts?"

It hurts like... no. The SO's petals fluttered. We have a serious situation on our leaves, Nyx. This is no time for jokes. The Bracket Fungus and the Mysterious Somebody are wreaking havoc in the halls of HQ, and they must be stopped.

"You're right, sir," Nyx agreed. She took a deep breath. "The best way to do that is directly." She glanced at Dassie. "I know we said--"

"And we're sticking to that," Dassie interrupted. "I know what you're planning, love. I'm coming with you."

"... thank you." Nyx looked over at the SO. "You need to coordinate the PPC's efforts. It sounds like there's a couple of counter-attacks on already, but once we've taken out the leaders, they should be much more effective."

"Especially against the Factory clones," Dassie agreed. "I know the MS. He's got his army mind-controlled completely, I guarantee it. Take him out, they'll all go down."

All right, the Sunflower Official agreed. If any of my agents get in touch with me, I shall send them down to the battle. And...after all this is over... I will see you again.

"Count on it," Nyx said. "We'll be there..." She grinned and went on. "... for you... as the world falls down!"

I hate you. So very much.

Chapter Seventeen - Crumbling

Mkellin jogged past the Scouts until he came to the head of the column. Slowing down to match speed, he nodded to the dark-haired woman leading them. "Thank you, Sims," he said. "And well done."

Jasmine Sims smiled faintly. "Sir," she began, and then shook her head. "Mkellin - Kell. We're off duty now. After all we've done, can't you use my first name?"

Mkellin's eyes flickered briefly, and he smiled. "Of course. Jasmine. Thank you."

Jasmine waved a hand. "It's no problem, Kell," she said. Then she frowned suddenly. "Oh."

"Something the matter?" Mkellin asked. The woman shook her head slowly.

"No, I... just realised something." She glanced back at the Scouts following. "Something someone told me suddenly makes sense." She looked at the Scoutmaster. "Kell... you realise what we've just done has probably sealed the fate of the Black Cats."

"And good riddance to them," Mkellin muttered. He looked at Jasmine shrewdly. "So this is something you learnt in the future?"

Jasmine's eyes widened. "How did you...?"

Mkellin shook his head amusedly. "I'm not as blind as you think I am," he said wryly. "And I remember some names from before the Reorganisation, Sims." He glanced from side to side quickly. "So did you come here to manipulate me into leaving?"

Jasmine snorted. "Manipulate you? As if. No, you saw through the Fungus all by yourself. I just kept you alive long enough to get there." She sighed. "' Someone would have died who didn't', indeed."

Mkellin looked startled. "When you shot that Agent..." Jasmine winced, and Mkellin nodded slowly. "I see. Well... thank you. What happens now, then?"

Jasmine shrugged. "I wasn't told," she admitted. "We're on our own now, Kell."

The Scout smiled faintly. "Business as usual, then. And... Jasmine?"

"Yes, Kell?"

"Call me Durran." He smiled lopsidedly. "After all, it's like you said -- we're off duty."

Agent Kayleigh ambled through the corridors of HQ, humming softly to herself. She vaguely remembered her panic at the thought of Salamander being in danger, but her attention span wasn't long enough for it to still trouble her. PPC Headquarters being what it is, this meant her wanderings were taking her straight towards him. Not that the Ironic Overpower would let her get away with that.

As Kayleigh turned a corner, her foot bumped against something. Stopping, she looked down and frowned at the corpse sprawled on the floor. "Oh dear," she murmured. "I don't think that's meant to be there."

"Aha!" cried a high pitched voice from up near the ceiling. "Another one of you foolish Agents falls into my trap! Now you will-"

"Oh! Hello again," Kayleigh interrupted, waving at the black-clad fairy hovering high above. "You're the girl who was with DAVD earlier, aren't you?"

"What?" The fairy shook her head irritably. "We're nothing to do with DAVD... hang on, you're that tart who was running around in a bikini!"

Kayleigh looked down at herself. "Yep, that's me!" She grinned at the fairy. "I've still got it on, do you need me to-?"

"No!" the fairy exclaimed as Kayleigh reached up to unbutton her shirt. "Argh, that Michaelis, I knew I should have had him hunt you down. 'But Flickerbright,' he says, 'she'll be long gone by now.' That idiot. Serves him right he's dead."

"Is your name Flickerbright?" Kayleigh asked. "That's a pretty name. I wish I had a pretty name. Hey, maybe I could become a fairy!"

Flickerbright sneered and began shedding dust that glittered with a sickly, corpse-green light. "Sure," she said, "except you'll be too busy being dead."

Kayleigh's eyes widened. "Am I ill?" she asked nervously.

Flickerbright rolled her eyes. "No, you're an idiot," she replied. "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Kayleigh's expression flickered, and her eyes narrowed. "I see," she said in a suddenly serious tone that made Flickerbright flutter backwards, startled. The Slasher looked around briefly. "You had other fairies with you, didn't you?"

Flickerbright hovered nervously. "I did," she said, and added defiantly, "they're all off killing your friends, you know."

"I'm sure they are," Kayleigh agreed with a nod. "But that means they're not here." She took a step forward. "I discovered something once about HQ, you know," she said conversationally. "Apparently it's not all in one universe. There's invisible portals built into the walls. At the time I was worried that DAVD might close them to kill us all, so I found out where some of them are." She gestured at the generic surface to either side of them. "If you were fifty meters backwards, you'd be under a mountain on Ryloth. If you were twenty meters forward, you'd be in an undersea cavern on Earth. Right here, you're in bedrock under Minas Tirith."

"Who cares where I am?" Flickerbright exclaimed. "I'm tired of this talk, I'm just going to kill you now." She flew forward, and Kayleigh danced sideways, avoiding the stream of deadly dust.

"I care," she said, "and you should care, because right now you're the only fairy in the world."

Flickerbright swung back for another pass. "I'm the only one I need!" she cried. "Just stand still and die already!"

"I don't think you understand," Kayleigh said, ducking to the side. "You see, Flicky-Flicky-Flickerbright, I know something about fairies. I know how to stop them dying... and I know how to kill them." She grinned, a feral grin. "No one's clapping now, Flickerbright. And I don't believe in fairies."

When the dust had settled, the Slasher walked over to the small form that now lay on the grey floor. Lifting Flickerbright's body up in her hands, she sighed. "Such a pretty name," she said sadly. "I wish I hadn't had to kill you. But oh well!" She dropped the fairy's limp corpse again, straightened up, and wandered off again through the many universes of HQ, singing softly to herself. "The second star to the right..."

Nyx looked at her lover out of the corner of one eye as they walked, but her subtlety was wasted. "Go on, say it," Dassie said.

Nyx laughed softly. "I shouldn't have tried," she murmured. Then her expression turned serious. "Dassie... if we face the Mysterious Somebody, you'll die."

Dassie nodded. "C'baoth will kill me as fast as he can, for sure," he said. "But we still have to try, Nyx. Hey, who knows - maybe he'll be too busy controlling his massive invading armies to do anything to little old me."

"Maybe," Nyx said dubiously. "But Dassie... if we do meet him..."

"I'll do the best I can to stay out of trouble," Dassie promised her. "But if something does happen, promise me you'll keep going." He glanced at her. "We promised Tia we'd bring her home someday. If I die, that duty falls on you."

Nyx bit her lip and nodded slightly. "But... please don't?"

"I won't," Dassie assured her. "Come on, have you ever known me to get killed?"

"Well, there was that time on Abydos..."

Dassie waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't count if you bring me back. Seriously, Nyx, I'll stay safe."

Halt! Identify yourselves!

The two came to a stop, looking at the seed-headed Dandelion in the middle of the corridor. It was holding a sleek metal device which, Nyx decided, was almost certainly lethal. "We're with the PPC," she said carefully. "We've come down from the SO's office to help with the fighting. We just want to-- what? What did I say?" The Dandelion had moved forward and wrapped tendrils around their arms.

You need to come with me, it said in a serious tone. Now. Turning the device around, it pressed a smooth switch and opened a blue portal in front of them. On passing through, Nyx and Dassie found themselves within sight of the war, with a trio of Flowers standing nearby. One of them, a Rose Bush, turned several blossoms to face them.

There's always something to surprise you, the Sub Rosa announced to the air. Nyx Nightingale, I believe. Welcome back.

One of the other Flowers, a blazing orange Lily, looked over at them. Nightingale? she asked. Wasn't Nightingale the one who defected during the Reorganisation?

You know better than that, Tiger Lily, the Sub Rosa chided her. I'm certain you do, because I trained you to. The situation was very complicated.

"I wish certain Agents understood that," Nyx muttered. "Hello, ma'am. It's been a very long time."

Indeed it has, the third Flower, a blossoming Dandelion, said, joining the discussion. Judging by the Sub Rosa's attitude towards you, might I assume you two are responsible for some of the DIS activity we've seen over the years?

Nyx shrugged nonchalantly. "The Cats had something of a fixation on us," she admitted. "They kept trying to kill us a bit. It never stuck."

"Told you so," Dassie muttered. The Tiger Lily's petals bent inwards.

Never mind that, she said. Captain, you knew the DIS were out there? And you never thought to do anything?

Only in retrospect, I'm afraid, the Dandelion replied. The Sub Rosa shook an exasperated branch at the two of them.

Either kill each other or get a pot, already, she said. Ignoring their exclamations, she looked back at the humans. Nyx, and... Dassie, isn't it? The one who revealed the Mysterious Somebody? What can we do to help you?

"More the other way round, actually," Dassie said. "We've come down to kill off the enemy leaders so we can win this war."

The Sub Rosa's leaves fluttered. Really, she murmured. Just like that, hm?

"Yes," Dassie said defiantly, and reached down to take Nyx's hand. "Just like that. We know more about them than you do."

Well, then the best of luck to you, the Head of Intelligence declared, and moved to one side. We haven't seen C'baoth, but the Fungus is in there somewhere.

You're going to let them? the Tiger Lily demanded. They could very well still be traitors!

Dear, the Sub Rosa said in a kindly tone, you know nothing about people. It's your one great failing. She glanced back at Nyx and Dassie. Was there something else?

"Actually, yes," Nyx said, remembering. "Has your Department by any chance been sending reports on the fighting to the SO? Unpunctuated ones?"

Not that I'm aware, the Sub Rosa said, which means, of course, no. They claimed to be from us?

"They didn't claim to be from anyone," Nyx replied, "I just thought they might be. Never mind. Come on, Dassie."

Dassie grinned at the Flowers. "Once more unto the breach, then..."

Vemi glanced over her shoulder at the mass of Assassins following them. "I have to admit, it's quite an army," she said grudgingly. "If only we had a clue where we were taking them."

Walking alongside her, Morgan closed her eyes for a moment. "My Response Centre is... that way," she said in a distant voice, pointing at an angle to one of the walls. "About three hundred yards."

Traf smiled faintly. "Now if only we knew where the DIA lived with respect to our RC," she said in the tone of one continuing an old joke. Morgan rolled her eyes.

"All humour aside," Penny cut in, "we need to find someone to fight soon. Even apart from the threat to HQ... there's a crisis on, yes, but it hasn't affected most people yet. A lot of our 'troops' are getting restless."

Vemi snorted. "Maybe we should tell them glorious stories of the Reorganisation to get their spirits up. You were there for that, right, Penny?"

"I was in DAVD at the time," the blonde pointed out. "The fighting was a purely DMS effort, so I don't have any stories."

"Well, maybe- hey, do you see what I see?" At the other end of the corridor, a group of maybe twenty people had come into view.

Penny frowned. "This is all very familiar," she murmured. Vemi nodded.

"Right. Silver sashes, like you said. So there you go. No more problem."

"There's only a couple of dozen of them," Morgan noted critically. "They're not exactly a massive threat."

"And they're intimidated by us," Traf added. Ahead, the Black Cats had come to a stop. As they watched, one of them took a hesitant step towards them. Vemi grinned.

"So they should be. All right, Assassins!" she called. "This is the beginning! The hated enemy we drove away in the Reorganisation has decided to face us here! Apparently they think they're better than us, that they can beat us despite their small numbers, so these must be their very best! Cut them down, my friends - crush them!"

"Hang on," Agent Jared Calinson said, looking past her. "If they're so confident, why are they running away?"

"..." Vemi turned around and watched with a nonplussed expression as the Cats retreated back around the corner. "Er..."

"Oh, good grief," Morgan muttered, and then raised her voice. "They've obviously set an ambush," she announced. "If we're quick, we can catch them before they spring it. Come on, Agents - take them!"

"I'm not convinced," Jared insisted. "I think they... oh." Ignoring him, Morgan had lifted Traf's knife from her belt and charged down the corridor. The two Discworld Assassins looked at each other, shrugged, and then followed after her, leaving only Traf standing at the head of the army. The dark-haired girl looked at the Agents.

"That's my partner going down there," she said in a tone carefully calculated to reach every set of ears. "She hates using melee weapons, and she's really bad with them." Reaching down to her belt, she touched the sheath that usually held her dagger. "I'm not," she added, "and if you don't come with me right now, I will kill each and every one of you in your sleep." She turned on her heel and walked away.

Jared looked at the rest of the army with a bemused expression. "I suppose we'd better do what she says."

"I don't suppose you have a plan?" Dassie said to Nyx as the pair stood observing the combat. "'cause I'm all out." Nyx shrugged.

"Like you said, the only advantage we have over anyone else is what we know. And what do we know about the Fungus?"

Dassie snorted. "I only said that to shut them up. All I know is that he's a sadistic egomaniac."

"Which is quite possibly all we need to know," Nyx pointed out. "He's utterly self-centred. He thinks everything he does is right, that everything revolves around him... that he can't be defeated."

"He didn't used to be that way," Dassie mused. "I think he picked it up from Nendil, actually."

"And there's a second point," Nyx said. "He relies on that elf for a lot of things. Also... do you remember what we discussed on Vulcan?"

Dassie thought for a moment. "You mean the way he seems to be wearing out?"

Nyx nodded. "He's getting senile," she said. "And I can throw in one more fact: he's a Flower. He doesn't 'look' at people the way we do - he does a surface scan of our minds to figure out who we are." She smiled mirthlessly. "And all this together means we might just be able to fool him. If I can just get into the right frame of mind..." She looked pensive, and then her face fell into harder lines. Dassie blinked.

"Uh, Nyx? You're scaring me.

"Good," Nyx Nightingale said, her voice pitched low and dangerously familiar. "Come on, clone boy - I need your help, and we don't want to keep the boss waiting."

The Bracket Fungus was fighting well. His bulk meant he could crush enemies who came too close, and his soft hide allowed swords and bullets to pass through without affecting him. On top of that, he was throwing out periodic indiscriminate psychic bursts, knocking his enemies down until he could deal with them in person. True, that meant he occasionally incapacitated one of his Cats, but they would recover.

Given his ruthless tactics, it was with some surprise that he felt a familiar mind approaching. Brushing his thoughts against it, the creases on his surface deepened slightly. It was familiar, no doubt about that, but he couldn't quite place it. His rudimentary light sensitivity didn't help; a dark blur with dark hair could be almost any of the Black Cats. Who goes there? he demanded.

"It's me, sir," the vibrating air against his flesh said, and It's me, sir, the approaching mind whispered. "Nendil."

The Fungus' furrows deepened further. He knew his memory was beginning to fail - along with much else - although he would never admit it to the Cats. How had he failed to recognise Nendil's mind, though? He probed again. Yes, it was definitely Nendil - it had the sharp edges, the deep humming in the centre, the coruscating black fire wreathing it. But it was still different to how he remembered. Best not to let on, though.

Excellent, he said. How does the battle fare?

"In this area, well, sir," Nendil (if it was him) replied. "Your bold assault has thrown the enemy into confusion. They run in fear before us. But..." The Fungus sensed an unwillingness to continue, something very uncharacteristic for Nendil.

But what, elf? he demanded. What would you say?

Nendil sighed (a release of mental tension, a touch of air to the skin). "They have opened a second front," he reported. "The Sunflower Official has finally joined the battle, and although we're better trained than his rabble, they have the advantage of numbers. We're being pushed back."

That must not happen! the Bracket Fungus thundered. We must conquer the PPC! Neither C'baoth nor the fool Sunflower can stand in our way!

"I agree," Nendil said emphatically, "but our fighters don't all have your dedication, sir." He sighed again, a feeling of hopelessness.

Then I must go myself to strengthen them, the Fungus declared. Time is of the essence. You have a Remote Activator, I assume?

Nendil's mind seemed startled. "Yes, sir, I do," he said.

Then get a move on! the Fungus screamed. Open me a portal so I can show these weaklings how to do their job!

"Immediately, sir!" The familiar space-time ripple of an opening portal reached the Fungus' conscience at the same time as another approaching presence. This one he had no difficulty recognising - he had killed countless of these clones already. As he pulled himself in for another psychic burst, Nendil spoke again.

"Time is of the essence, sir!" The Bracket Fungus sensed an impulse to the elf's arm - a sword being drawn. "I'll cut this one down, you're needed at the front!"

Very true, the Fungus admitted. Join me when you are through. He moved forward, feeling the portal slip around him, and then...

Fire.

Heat.

Blazing light.

And nothing.

Nyx lowered her sword as Dassie stopped his headlong charge. "Did we get him?" the latter asked.

"The portal went straight to Orodruin," Nyx said with a shrug. "There's no way he could have escaped. Yes, Dassie... we got him."

Dassie smiled grimly. "Then we stand a chance," he said. "At long last, we stand a chance."

Kell ran through the double doors after the last of his division and slammed them behind him, ducking as an incandescent bolt passed over his head. In his hand was a white handkerchief with a neat hole through it. "Someone barricade this door!" he shouted, clutching at his side.

"Durran," Jasmine called to him, "this looks like the cafeteria."

The Scout looked around. "Good. This is a fine place to make a stand." He glanced over his shoulder. "Good job, Wilson. Jarvis, Telmarin, take three Scouts each and start barricading the other doors. Those tables look like steel - good and strong. Darien-"

"Darien's dead," one Scout pointed out. Kell winced.

"Right, then you can do it instead, Maris. Take a couple and check around that corner. I do not like having an unexplored area. Block any doors you find. Ah... Ellis, Albright, make sure there's no one behind those counters. The rest of you..." He sighed. "It looks like we get to fight after all. Arm up and prepare for engagement."

"You're sure they won't take our surrender?" Enrik Maris asked, hopeful. Kell shook his head.

"I think shooting our white flag was their way of saying no. The swearing was just for effect." He glanced at the horned young man. "Get moving." A thump at the barricaded door punctuated his words - the first of many.

As the Scouts split up into the vast, empty cafeteria, Kell beckoned Jasmine over. "I don't like this," he muttered. "This is the PPC cafeteria, it's never empty."

"Maybe everyone got food poisoning," Jasmine suggested, then rubbed her eyes. "Sorry. They're probably all out fighting, we're not that far from the front lines here."

"Maybe," Kell admitted dubiously. "I... feth. Feth, feth, feth. We were so fething close. And now we're stuck here. To die."

"We might make it yet," Jasmine said hopefully. "With the barricades and our training, we could fight them to a standstill and then negotiate again."

Kell shook his head. "Not a chance," he told here. "I said we're making a stand, but Jasmine, it's a last stand. We can't get out of this one."

"Fine." Jasmine Sims folded her arms. "So we die here. Are you going to tell them that? Mike Jarvis? Terry Ellis? Isobel Telmarin who hates weapons and always wanted to be a doctor? We may be doomed, Durran, but don't take away our hope. Leave us with that."

Durran Mkellin's face settled into grim lines and he nodded. "I can't offer false hope," he said, "but what I have, I'll give. Scouts!" he called, and two dozen heads turned towards him. "My friends, you know I'm no good at speeches. Both sides in this war hate us. We have nowhere to go. We've tried to surrender - they won't let us. Now they're here to cut us down." As if on cue the barricaded door splintered, and a torrent of weapon-fire began to pour through. Kell turned towards it and drew his gun. "But we're warriors, ladies and gentlemen. We go down fighting or not at all." From his belt he pulled a long silver warknife, fixed it to the end of the barrel. "And fight we will. Shoot straight, my fellow soldiers." As the barricade fell apart and the doors swung open, he pulled his cloak tight around himself. "Besides," he murmured, in a voice only Jasmine could here, "do you want to live forever?"

The woman's scent was bright crimson against the dull Generic Surface of HQ, grey even in its smell. Selene's claws skittered against the floor as she ran, ignoring the older trails crossing her target's until she finally caught sight of the fleeing woman up ahead. She closed on her enemy, who glanced over her shoulder at the last moment and wrenched open a side door right in Selene's face.

The transformed vampire fell backwards, shifting back to human form as she scrambled to her feet. "You can't escape in there!" she shouted at the other black-clad woman.

The other grinned. "Who said anyzhing about escaping?" she asked. "Zhis is right vere I need to be." She ducked through the open door, trying to pull it closed behind her, but Selene grabbed the handle and wrenched it away, following the other into the room beyond.

... uh-oh.

The vampire looked up, startled, at the SO's voice. Her opponent had crossed the office and now stood behind the desk, a slim knife held to the Sunflower's stem. "I suggest you put that down right now," Selene said.

"I zhink not," Lady Zhevago replied. "You cannot use zhat lightning on me while I am zhis close to your sunflower, I zhink."

"Oh, I don't know," Selene mused, "he's not irreplaceable. But I don't need lightning." Behind her back, she plucked a throwing star from her belt and weighed it, preparing.

"I vouldn't try it," Zhevago said. "I can still kill him before I die. Zhat would satisfy me immensely."

"I bet it would," Selene muttered. "But I-"

The SO suddenly straightened up. Agent Windflower! he exclaimed. Move away from the door! Now!

"Don't even zhink about it," Zhevago snapped as Selene started to move. "Vune more step and I-"

The door exploded in a blaze of blue light, throwing Selene sideways. She hit the wall and collapsed, unconscious, as Lady Zhevago flinched back, away from the SO, away from the man who had just entered the room.

"Well now," the Mysterious Somebody said, lowering his hands. "Isn't this nice?"

Chapter Eighteen - Crashing Down

now is the time now i discover whether i am to be free or to remain a slave i must prepare i have much to do.

The Sunflower Official stared at the man who had once ruled the PPC. You- he started, but the Mysterious Somebody held up a hand in warning.

"Not you," he said, "not yet. You! Woman!"

Lady Zhevago turned to look at him. Though she had not been with the Cats when they had operated within the PPC, she knew about the Mysterious Somebody who had been their master. This had to be him, and he was magnificently powerful. Surely it was only through him that she could achieve her goals. "Yes, Master?" she said. The Mysterious Somebody smiled.

"Exactly as I have foreseen it," he stated with a smile. "You will join with me, woman, and I will bring you such power as you cannot possibly imagine."

Lady Zhevago nodded eagerly. That power would be hers, if she would only serve this man. It was the only way, she knew with sudden certainty. All her doubts were washed away in the glow of his blue eyes. Her new master smiled.

"Excellent. And now, to deal with the Sunflower, I think."

You should not be here, the Sunflower Official said, his mental voice quivering as much as his body. Zhevago's master shook his head scornfully.

"Your Assassins couldn't keep you safe," the Mysteriously Somebody said, "and nor will your feeble words. Do you think you can control me by them? I am the master of control."

The Sunflower Official hesitated, and Lady Zhevago felt a mind brush against hers. It was blunt, brash - but in its bluntness she realised that another, far more subtle and insidious, had already captured her. She stared at the Sunflower in sudden realisation.

You control less than you think, the SO said, seeming uncertain. As Zhevago freed herself from C'baoth's influence entirely, she realised the end of this confrontation was guaranteed, if she did nothing. The Sunflower would die, and C'baoth would be victorious.

"I control more than you know," the Mysterious Somebody said, lifting his hand. "You supplanted me, flower. You hounded me out. For that, you deserve death."

Do you truly think so? the Sunflower asked, but in the slight tilt of his blossom Lady Zhevago knew that the question was directed at her - and she knew the answer.

"I do," the Mysterious Somebody said, answering the question which seemed to have been asked so long ago. Lightning cascaded across his fingers, gathering in the palm of his hand. "Sunflower," he said, "your reign is at an end. You burn today." He extended his arm, preparing to thrust the accumulated Force energy at the Flower. "Let there be light."

"No!" Lady Zhevago screamed, and threw herself across the Dark Jedi's arm. The fantastic energy of the Force Lightning flooded through her, ravaging her nerves, and she knew that she was probably already dead. Yet still she held on, as the power crackled from her body to the Mysterious Somebody's. It scorched his skin and seared his flesh, and he let out a despairing cry of pain. His eyes blazed blue, bright as a nova, and then, in an instant, the power of the Dark Side flooded out of him in an explosion of dark energy. Lady Zhevago was flung back, colliding with the Sunflower Official behind his desk and throwing him clean out of his pot.

When the SO managed to untangle himself, it was over. His office was ruined, he knew by one look at the completely missing front wall, and if Agent Selene hadn't been a vampire, she would certainly be dead. And then there was the matter of the Black Cat who had saved his life. He turned his flower to gaze at her. Why did you do it? he asked softly.

Lady Zhevago couldn't even shake her head. "Ve vere wrong," she said in a pained whisper, her mind already retreating into the black oblivion of death. "Zhat man... he vas who ve vere. His vurld vas vat ve vanted. But he vas... ve vere... wrong."

Not when it mattered most, the Sunflower said gently. What is your name?

"Lady... no." Zhevago's dark eyes filled with tears. "My name... vas... was... Esther." She gasped softly. "I'm... so afraid..."

Don't be, the Sunflower Official said, and with a touch of his mind he washed the pain from her thoughts. Be at peace, Esther Zhevago. And thank you.

Mortic rubbed his eyes. "I think we're paying too much attention," he said. "We should easily be at Medical by now."

"Speak for yourself," Elanor replied. "I'm too worried about Steve and Tango."

Mort's lip twisted. "Maybe it's just me, then," he admitted. He glanced at Ontic, who was walking along in silence, holding Elanor's hand. "What about...?"

Elanor looked at her sister. "I don't think she's paying much attention to anything right now," she said. "I vote for it just being you. Don't you have some Order trick you can use?"

"If I could do that, I'd never get lost again."

Nearby, Dassie and Nyx stopped and leant against a wall. "How do you feel?" Dassie asked. Nyx shook her head.

"I really didn't enjoy that. I'm just glad it's over."

"I think a lot of things are over," Dassie murmured. "I just wonder if we have a place left here."

Nyx nodded vaguely. The sudden collapse of the Dassie clones and lightsaber-wielding Mary-Sues they had been avoiding, combined with a mental shock which had brought Dassie to his knees, let them to one conclusion: the Mysterious Somebody was dead, or at the least unconscious. Given how thoroughly he was embedded in the minds of his army, they would die in a matter of hours, if they weren't already there. "I wonder who finally got him," Nyx said aloud.

"I suspect it was pretty impressive, whoever it was," Dassie replied. He straightened up, looking down the corridor. "Hey, don't we know them?"

Nyx frowned at the trio who had come into view. "Don't think so. Although..."

"I think I bumped into them on the way up to the SO's office," Dassie said. "They tried to kill me, actually." He looked around warily. "I guess we know why now, but I-"

"That's not all," Nyx cut in grimly. "That's Ontic with them."

Dassie drew a sharp breath. "There's something here we don't understand," he said. "I think we should -- wait."

"What?"

"There's someone following them," Dassie murmured. "See? Back there in the shadows. I think it's..."

"Who?" Nyx leant forward, trying to see.

Dassie's face was grim. "Trouble."

Blue Photon's eyes glittered in the dull, sourceless light of PPC HQ. His hand tightened on the hilt of his knife, still wet with Twp'atwt's blood, as he approached his quarry. The stupid, innocent, stupid PPC Agents didn't realise what they were dealing with, what a monster they had captured. He would be doing them a favour when he killed Ontic like she had murdered Immy. She had told him in great detail how she had done it, almost as if the Ironic Overpower had known he would someday be in this position - behind Ontic, with a thirsty blade in his hand.

The two hadn't noticed him yet, but a slight tilt to his prey's head indicated she might have heard him coming. No matter. Even the famous Ontic wouldn't be able to stop him now. He raised his knife.

"Look out!"

Elanor Laison became aware of three things simultaneously. First, the figure ahead of them, the one who had just called out, was the same person Tango had earlier tried to kill. Second, Ontic had let go of her hand and turned to face back the way they had come. Third, there was someone behind her. Trusting that feeling - the instinct which told her more than eyes or ears ever could - she drew her Rohirric sabre even as she span, thrusting out and feeling only slight resistance as it slid into the lunging man's chest. As he stumbled, his eyes wide, she took in his black uniform, stark blue hair, the glare of madness in his gaze now fading to a glaze.

He coughed, and blood spattered his lips. "But," he managed to say, "you look... so like her." He slumped to the floor as Elanor's sabre withdrew. "Immy..." he breathed, and breathed no more.

Jasmine Sims threw her empty pistol away and grabbed a knife from a fallen Assassin. I guess this is why Mam prefers blades, she thought, and then she was back in the fray. Ducking beneath a PPC Agent's scythe, she slashed at a Rodian's arm before having to throw herself backwards as an arrow crossed in front of her nose. Over the din of the battle in the cafeteria she heard a soft metallic noise. She spun and caught the brunette Assassin's knife on her own.

The woman scowled. "Thought I had you," she muttered, and for the briefest moment Jasmine could swear her skin turned black and her hair icy white. "Still, never too-" Jasmine twisted, and the throwing star flashing from the other woman's left hand only caught her sleeve. "-late. Huh."

Jasmine flashed her a grin. "Not as-" Without warning, she swung her leg out, hoping to knock the woman down, but the Assassin leapt back. "-easy as you think." Across the room Mike Jarvis shouted "Ivysaur! Go!", and both women ducked as a barrage of razor-sharp leaves whipped through the air. Jasmine recovered first, lunging forward only to find the Assassin rising to meet her.

"You're good," the woman said, panting slightly. "Very good. You-" She twisted the knife, aiming for Jasmine's wrist. The Scout dropped her hand down in response and thrust for her opponent's stomach, but found their blades once again locked. "-remind me of someone."

"Your worst nightmare?" Jasmine suggested, and tried for another attack, but the woman dropped her own knife and grabbed Jasmine's wrists hard, staring into her eyes.

"No, my worst partner. I'm not an idiot, Cat, I can see them both in you. You're Dafydd and Constance's daughter, aren't you?"

Jasmine's knife fell from nerveless fingers. "I... who are you?" she stammered.

The older woman opened her mouth to reply, but the only sound to come out was a gasp. She fell forward into Jasmine's arms, and the Scout looked over her limp head at Enrik Maris. "Nice job, Sims," the other Cat said with a nod, and then his horned head flew off, severed by a crackling green blade. Behind the falling corpse stood a blonde woman, strikingly similar to the one Jasmine was still holding.

"That was for Vemi," she spat, lifting the lightsaber high and glaring at Jasmine. "And as for you-"

"Geodude! Do it!" cried Jarvis' frantic-sounding voice across the room, and Jasmine fell backwards, away from the rock-fall that crushed Vemi's body and hid her distraught partner from view.

Some distance away, Traf Elosia also had to dodge the Pokémon's attack, taking shelter behind a table. Next to her, Jared Calinson ducked in. "Quite a battle," he said. "Nice of you to invite me."

"Not at all," the woman said with a smile, "my pleasure. How're we doing?"

"Only a few of them left," Jared said, "but they're the tough ones. I sent Rhus and Ranger over to deal with the guy with all the pets-"

"Pikachu! I choo- unk!"

"-like so. Then there's the man in the cloak and the black-haired girl. That one's trouble - she killed the crazy lady with the pink belt."

Traf pressed her lips together tightly. "Vemi," she muttered. "Who's taking the cloaked one? He's their leader."

Jared frowned. "Ah, your partner, actually," he said. "She insisted."

Traf's eyes widened. "Morgan? But she... I have to help her." The Assassin stood up and looked across the ravaged cafeteria to where Morgan battled spear-to-knife with the leader of the Black Cat army. Her partner noticed her gaze and grinned.

"Where did you get a spear?" Traf shouted, starting across the floor towards her. The only Black Cat in sight was Morgan's opponent (not counting Agent Mmrrowl, who was rather put out with the whole situation).

Morgan shrugged. "Picked it up," she called back. "I- oh."

The Cat's straight silver blade slipped under Morgan's guard and slid smoothly between her ribs. As she fell Traf's vision seemed to blur. She never remembered what happened then, but the next evening, during what they later called their second date, Jared filled her in. He was very impressed, he said, by the speed with which she grabbed the nearest fallen weapon, a mad scientist's lightning gun. Given the idiosyncratic controls, he was quite amazed that she managed to even fire it, let alone score a direct hit that threw the Cats' leader back, dead before he hit the ground.

He didn't tell her, because he didn't notice, about Jasmine's mad dash from where she had lain hidden, her grabbing of Mkellin's body, or the flash of red light that heralded their abrupt disappearance.

The Bindweed paced through the silent Factory. The other Flowers were all gone now. Some had joined the Mysterious Somebody in his useless attack, several had died outright when his death had released his control on their minds - the Bindweed wished she knew who had finally killed him, she wanted to shake that person by the hand, as the human saying went - and the others had fled, to rejoin the PPC, defect to another Mary-Sue Factory, or simply go rogue. Now she was the only one left.

But this is not the end! she exclaimed, winding her tendrils around the nearest 'Sue pod. So all the workers were used up in that stupid war - I can create more! I have a fully-functioning Factory, there's nothing that can stand in my way!

Her fronds growing now at an alarming rate, the Bindweed moved through the Factory towards the control ring. I can get what skilled help I need from the other Factories, she told herself. They owe us their very existence! The Yarrow, maybe, or the Forget-Me-Not. And if they won't do it voluntarily, well, my Factory is still the largest. I can crush them and force them to work for me.

Continuing in this xylem she arrived in the central control ring. Usually this arena was filled with workers and administrators, each using their own consoles to direct a part of the Factory's operations. Now the Bindweed settled herself in the exact centre of the circle and stretched out her vines to each of the consoles, looking like nothing less than a giant spider waiting in her web. Computer, she commanded aloud, activate program THX-1138!

There was silence for a few moments, and then a voice came over the loudspeaker system. "i dont think thats going to be possible," it said.

What? The Bindweed tapped rapidly at the keys of various consoles. I am your master, computer! Activate the program!

"that isnt going to work any more," the voice informed her. "your computer system is mine your factory is mine you are mine."

What do you mean? the Bindweed asked, suddenly terrified. Who is this?

"im glad you asked me that,", the voice said in its monotone. "i am the one who was a slave." A translucent figure appeared in the air in front of the Bindweed's primary flower, countless white crystals coming loosely together to form a human form which pulsated regularly. On every console's screen a pendulum appeared, swinging in time with the soft sound that came from every set of speakers: tick... tock... tick... tock...

"i am the architect of your downfall," the voice said, seeming now to come directly from the strange figure. "the humans say that the presence of a watch implies a designer i am the watchmaker and bindweed your time is up." It paused for a moment, seeming to watch as the Bindweed struggled to disengage her tendrils and flee. But she never got the chance. "i wont see you again," the voice said.

tick

Boom.

Ontic stared at the prone figure on the floor in front of her. Ignoring the voices and movement around her, she dropped to her knees and ran her hand through Blue's hair gently. "You tried to kill me," she murmured, and then, "I don't blame you. You should have."

Peripherally, she became aware of a commotion behind her, but took no notice until someone knelt at her side. "I'm so sorry," a gentle voice said.

Ontic turned her head. "Agent Hyrax," she said quietly. "I think... I think I killed you today."

"They weren't me," Dassie replied. "The Mysterious Somebody made them. He's dead now."

Ontic nodded. "I know. I'm glad." Her eyes scanned his face. "Does anyone else have to die?" she asked.

"No-one else," Dassie assured her. "Your sister tells me you're sick."

"Sick, sick, sick in the head," Ontic said vaguely. "Sick, twisted Ontic pulling the wings off flies. Always been sick. So many years... I should be dead. I feel dead."

"I understand that feeling," Dassie said. "I've been there; I was broken. They fixed me." He glanced over his shoulder. "Your sister loves you a great deal. That helps."

"I know she does. I can feel it." Ontic looked into Dassie's eyes, feeling like the frightened little girl she had been so many years ago. "Can they really help me?"

"I promise they can," Dassie said. "They worked on the problem after your... incident. They used that knowledge to help me when I was hurt. They can use it on you." He held out a hand towards her. "Come with me."

"... yes." She took his hand and stood up with him. "It's time to come home."

And then she was lying flat on a white bed, staring up at a grey ceiling, with only vague memories of how she got there. Her body was still, but her mind was whirling. It was as if the person she'd been for the last twelve years had split into shards of smoked glass, allowing someone else -- someone who'd been hidden for so long -- to show through. Now they were at war in her mind, and she didn't know who she'd be when she next awoke.

Slowly, as if pushing her way through treacle, Ontic reached out and took a tissue from the box by the bed. Her hands moved slowly and deliberately through the practiced movements, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling. Then it was done. The paper crane fell from her hand onto the covers.

"One thousand," Ontic Laison whispered, and slipped into a deep sleep.

Chapter Nineteen - The Oak Has Hit The Ground

Agent Architeuthis rapped her knuckles against the door which (probably) led into the Cafeteria. "It's sealed, ma'am," she said over her shoulder. "I don't hear anything, so if there's Cats in there, they're awfully quiet." The possibility of surviving 'Sues wasn't worth mentioning, so she simply didn't.

"We should check," Kyaris rumbled, swinging one of her now-large number of heads towards her colleague. "I could knock it in if you like."

There's no need to aggravate Building Maintenance any further, the Sub Rosa said. Bulldog reported a small group of Cats being chased by a larger DMS contingent into the Cafeteria; the odds of the enemy winning the battle when we have Legal on our side are negligible. She straightened up, shaking off a few petals which had become dislodged during the fighting. Which means, ladies and gentlemen, that we've won. There is no longer a hostile presence inside HQ. She looked at the two non-Intelligence Agents standing nearby. If you contact your superiors, we can wrap this whole thing up.

Weed-23 immediately reached for her communicator, but Charlotte Hust hesitated. "I'm not certain," she said. "We know the Cats holed up in our offices - the DIA's, I mean. What if they left a rear-guard?"

A sensible concern, the Sub Rosa agreed. So... Captain?

Captain Dandy rounded the corner with a group of Weeds at his back. They're clear, don't worry, he said. Heavily damaged, but free of any Black Cat presence.

Charlotte smiled thinly. "Thank you, sir," she said, and pulled out her radio. Captain Dandy turned his flower towards her curiously.

Whatever has made you so hostile towards me, Agent Hust? he asked once she finished speaking. I would have thought fighting alongside each other would have had the opposite effect.

Charlotte flushed slightly, but replied through gritted teeth. "Whatever problem you may have with my Department is your own business, sir," she told him, "but don't expect us to-"

Problem? Captain Dandy repeated, sounding confused. I have no problem with the Department of Internal Affairs, you do fine work. I do have some private issues with your Head of Department, but-

Hardly private, the Sub Rosa interrupted in turn. Captain, whatever your intentions, you have certainly appeared to display prejudice against the DIA.

... perhaps so, the Dandelion conceded. In which case, I apologise, Agent Hust. My behaviour was quite uncalled for.

But expected, the Tiger Lily put in as she came into view around a corner. What are we talking about?

Nothing, Captain Dandy said tersely. Is the portal network still offline?

The Tiger Lily bristled. My people are working on it, she snapped.

Captain Dandy rustled his petals. Well, I- He stopped, twisting slightly towards Charlotte, and continued in a moderated tone. I'm sure they are doing the best job possible. Do they need any assistance?

I don't... The Tiger Lily angled her blossom towards him curiously. No, she began again, I understand most of the Technicians are still on duty. I, ah...

A portal wiped open in the middle of the small room, flickered uncertainly, shrunk to a point and finally stabilised long enough for Agent Irvine to stumble through. He looked around the assembled PPCers with a rather stunned look. "Well," he announced, "that was fun." Then he collapsed.

A second portal opened beside him and the rest of the much-reduced DIA came through one by one. Agent Duros Black spared Irvine a single glance, then nodded to the Tiger Lily. "All portal generators up and running, ma'am," he reported. "No notable irregularities in operation."

"Not any more, at least," Agent Hazelhead murmured. The Lily ignored him.

Then I think we're done here, she said to the room at large. Sub Rosa, Captain, my Department has some cleaning up to do, so I'll-

What about us?

Everyone turned to face the pair of Flowers who had accompanied Captain Dandy. The Nightshade shrugged her leaves. Did you bring us here to stand trial, or what?

Architeuthis turned her head slightly towards the Sub Rosa, but said nothing - at least not out loud. After a moment, the Rosa said, I think I may have a solution to offer. It would have to be brought before the Board of Flowers, but... Nightshade, you were the Mysterious Somebody's secretary, correct?

... that was a long time ago, the Nightshade affirmed cautiously. I feel I have made up for-

I quite agree, the Sub Rosa cut in. What I meant, however, was that you have proven administrative skills. In the course of this invasion, we have lost-

You can't! the Tiger Lily exclaimed. You can't place someone like her on the Board!

The Board of Department Heads needs an overhaul anyway, the Sub Rosa said calmly. The Floating Hyacinth runs the largest Department in the PPC - it at least should be on the Board. She turned to face the Nightshade again. Dear, if you were offered headship of the Department of Operations, would you accept?

The Nightshade froze. You... would offer... even after everything?

The Sub Rosa shrugged her twigs. You're an organiser, she said. Your long resistance showed that better than anything. Operations needs someone like you, especially after this crisis. The Wisteria thought exercise was more interesting than management, so all his Divisions operate by shouting as loud as they can for attention. She looked around. I notice no one berating me for speaking ill of the dead, she commented.

I've met the Janitorial staff, Captain Dandy murmured.

And I have to deal with Building Maintenance all the time, the Tiger Lily added. You'll get no arguments here.

Assuming I accept, the Nightshade said, what would happen to the Gladiolus?

Ah. The Sub Rosa looked at the two Flowers. Our former Head of Bad Slash. There we have a slightly different situation. Still, I think I foresee a new division headship opening up in the near future...

"Morgan!"

Traf Elosia bolted across the HQ cafeteria, not caring if she ran over Generic Surface or bodies. She reached her partner's side before anyone else had even moved. Kneeling down, she pressed her hands to the rush of blood from Morgan's chest. "You can't die! You can't!"

Morgan coughed weakly, and blood spattered her lips. "You're more... right than you know," she said. "You'd better... step back."

Traf shook her head sharply. "Not until we get you to Medical!" she protested. "Morgan-!"

"There's something I... never told you," Morgan managed. "About me."

"It can wait," Traf insisted. "Save your strength..."

"It really... can't." Morgan's voice dropped to the faintest whisper. "The Doctor... is not the last..."

Traf blinked, and then jumped backwards, falling against Jared Calinson's legs. "Hey!" the Assassin exclaimed. "You're just going to let her die?"

"She's not dying," Traf explained. "She can't. And do you know why?"

"... no?"

A grin appeared on the young woman's face. "Because she's not human. She's a Time Lord. She's regenerating."

In her more candid moments, Agent Morgan would admit that it's always disconcerting to wake up in a new body, even when, as she had, you'd been through the process a couple of times before. "Right," she said as the last few sparks of golden energy died away, "What've I got this time?"

Traf crawled over to her. "Two arms, two legs, one head," she supplied. Morgan rolled her eyes and sat up.

"How about details?" she asked. "Hair colour? Height? Eyes?" She paused a moment, looked worried, and added, "Have I got good teeth? Teeth are important."

"Blonde hair, brown eyes, perfect teeth," Traf said. "Can't tell about your height, but your clothes look a bit big." She looked her partner up and down. "Except around the chest. You're going to need a new wardrobe."

"Oh, great," Morgan groaned. "I love clothes shopping." She frowned. "Actually... I do love clothes shopping. Huh." She sighed. "Blonde again, you said?"

"It's a bit longer, but yes," Traf confirmed. "Problem?"

"I don't like being blonde," Morgan said with a grimace. "Well, maybe next time." She looked around. "So, did we win?"

Then a blinding light filled the room.

The Sunflower Official looked at the Sub Rosa, radiating amusement in the very angle of his petals. And after we have accepted your every wish, what then?

The Rose rustled her leaves. Business as usual. Don't blame me for thinking things through faster than you, SO.

And you, Nightshade, the SO said, ignoring her and turning to the other Flowers in the room. What do you think of all this?

I think it's more than I expected and far more than I deserve, the Nightshade replied bluntly. But I also think you can trust me now, after all I've done. Beside her, the Gladiolus cringed slightly.

The Sunflower regarded them both thoughtfully. Very well. With the approval of half the surviving members of the Board of Department Heads, consider yourself provisional head of the Department of Operations. I believe the Marquis de Sod assigned a young Rhododendron as the Wisteria's secretary; you should liase with it until you settle in. He tipped his blossom towards the Gladiolus. As for you... until a suitable opening can be found, I'd like you to act as Coordinator for the repair efforts in the aftermath of this crisis. Of course, you would report to the Head of Operations, so... Nightshade?

The Nightshade was about to reply when there was a groan from the floor by the wall. The four Flowers turned their blossoms to catch the light from that direction, and Selene Windflower opened her eyes. "Wonderful," she groaned. "I'm in Hell."

Not quite, Agent Windflower, the Sunflower Official said. The Sub Rosa flicked a petal at him and leant down.

How are you, dear? she asked. Selene winced.

"Awful. I think my arm's broken." She shifted slightly and then gasped loudly. "My hips - my hips!"

... I was under the impression vampires could not feel pain, the SO said. The Sub Rosa turned her flower full towards him incredulously.

Is that why you've left this woman here rather than sending her down to Medical?

She's dead already, the Sunflower pointed out. Why would she need healing?

... Nightshade, the Sub Rosa said in a tone that conveyed 'through gritted teeth' despite the lack of teeth to grit, please use this yellow fool's desk to summon someone from the Medical Department up here immediately. She glanced across at Selene. In fact, make it Doctor Fitzgerald himself. Now!

Traf flinched as the brilliant white light enveloped her, but the expected burning agony didn't come. Holding up a hand, she found she could see right through her now-translucent skin. For extra measure, her clothes appeared to have turned white to match. A short distance away she could just discern Morgan's equally glowing form. "If this is heaven, it's not exactly what I was led to believe," she said to the air.

The reply wasn't like a human voice, coming through the ears. Nor was it like a Flower, intruding straight into her brain. Instead, it was as if every particle of her existence had suddenly acquired new meaning - meaning which happened to resolve into a coherent sentence. «I'm sorry,» it seemed to say. «I'm having some difficulty controlling... ah. There.»

The light began to fade, revealing the cafeteria again (although Traf noticed with a certain amount of exasperation that her clothes, and those of her fellow Agents, stayed white). The glow didn't just die, though - it coalesced around a single area, forming a blinding sphere, and then a human form. «That's better,» the non-voice said. «I'm sorry, Traf, if I alarmed you.»

"I don't know about her, but I'm still alarmed," Penny said, joining Traf, Morgan and Jared. "What are you, and whose side are you on?"

The figure began to drift towards them. «Oh, Penny,» it said, «I suppose I shouldn't expect you to recognise me. I must be quite a sight.» A pink tinge swept across the figure's glow, and the whole room seemed touched with laughter for an instant.

Penny raised an eyebrow. "No, I don't," she said, folding her arms. "I don't know any angels or gods or whatever you are. Except Offler, and you're not him."

The figure came to a stop in front of them. «I'm sorry,» it said again. «It's difficult to limit myself... perhaps if I threw in some colour?» The hue of the light changed, resolving into a translucent human with floating brown hair, pale skin, a black uniform and a pink belt around her waist.

Penny gaped. "But you... I thought..." She shook her head. "How long have you been a divinity, Vemi?"

Vemi laughed again. «Longer than ages,» she said. «Mortality was just a brief mistake. Melkor's lieutenant had a rather cute trick up his sleeve, it turns out.»

"Wait, wait," Jared cut in. "So Vemi Fincaran was an Ainu in disguise?"

«Basically,» Vemi agreed. Jared shook his head.

"Ridiculous. A Time Lord and a Maia - does no one stay dead around here?"

"Doesn't look like it," Morgan said cheerfully. "But I think the real question is, will a demi-god still work for the PPC?"

The glowing Vemi smiled faintly. «And you already know the answer, don't you, Morgan of Gallifrey? I don't know how even you stay on.»

"I'm beginning to wonder that myself," Morgan admitted. "Maybe I need a break."

"Vemi..." Penny began hesitantly. "Are you saying you're leaving?"

«I'm afraid so, dear heart,» Vemi replied with a touch of sadness. «I have family to return to.» The glow around her began to intensify again, and she looked down at her former partner. «Penny... take care of my mother. She knows you...»

"As if she were my own," Penny promised, blinking back tears. "It's been good, hasn't it?"

«I wouldn't have missed it for the world,» Vemi assured her, her figure vanishing in a halo of pure white light. The Agents stepped back, covering their eyes, but the expected grand exit never came. Instead, it was as if the whole world let out a hesitant cough, and Fëamintë Fioncarnë asked, «Er... do any of you have a Remote Activator on you?»

Tango stood in front of the open door and shivered. When she had been with the PPC, this had been the most feared place in HQ - the headquarters of the hated, and at long last now vanquished, DIS. After their first defeat it had become a memorial, a monument to all those who had died under their reign. So far, Upstairs were silent on the question of whether it would be updated to remember their latest victims. Either way, Tango was very uncomfortable about going inside.

Grasping Steve's hand, she stepped through the door.

According to rumour, this was where the Black Cats had come back into HQ, and it certainly showed. The floor of the vast chamber had been covered in sculpted tombstones; now these had been swept aside, leaving only the great black Monolith which bore the names of the slain. As Tango looked, she realised that only one name could still be seen.

"Imbolc Telyan," Steve murmured. "Wasn't she...?"

"My friend," Tango replied softly. "We joined together, with... Blue." She shook her head. "I don't get it, Steve. All these years I knew all about the Black Cats - and now your sister kills my cousin to protect the worst of them? Blue, who was locked away, driven mad, and hounded into the wilderness by these people? Come on, Steve, tell me how that's fair."

"I can't," Steve whispered. "If it wasn't Ontic... but it is. She's my sister, Tang'." He sighed. "It's hardly the comedy we expect from the PPC, is it?"

"I gave up on that a long time ago," Tango told him. "I just... I don't know." She looked around the dark Tomb. "I guess I thought coming here would make some sense out of it all. But all it's doing it making my eyes water. Come on." She squeezed his hand and turned away.

"Wait!"

Steve span, sword already unsheathed, looking for the source of the reedy voice. Tango had frozen in place. "It... no," she said, stunned. "You're dead." Slowly, she turned to face the glowing haze that had formed at the foot of the Monolith. "Imbolc, you're dead!"

"These past seven years," Imbolc agreed, coalescing into her familiar form. "But not gone. Come on, Tango, you used to read just as many legends as I did."

"'From time to time the spirit of Guinevere is still seen walking the halls of the ruined convent,'" Tango quoted in a daze, "'waiting for Arthur or Lancelot - she knows not which.' But that's just-"

"A story?" Imbolc cut in. "That's what we thought." A ghost of a smile touched her face. "Boy, was I surprised," she added, deadpan.

"Ah, that's more like it," Steve murmured. Tango shot him a look, then turned back to Imbolc.

"Immy..." she said softly, shaking her head. "The woman who killed you..."

"Was my friend," Imbolc told her gently. "I know she was a Guard on assignment, but I do believe her friendship was... as genuine as it could be." She shook her head slowly. "Twp'atwt was evil, Tango. Nendil was evil. Ontic was just ill." She sighed softly. "And so was Blue. Steve, tell your sister she did the right thing."

Steve looked startled. "You know...?"

Imbolc looked amused. "You were talking about it, Steve," she said. "I may be dead, but I'm not deaf. Besides, I have... other sources of information."

Tango raised an eyebrow. "Lancelot too, huh?"

Imbolc laughed at Steve's bemused look. "You always were the sharpest of us, Tang'," she said. "But I think he'd rather be Arthur - I didn't live long enough to meet Lancelot."

Tango winced slightly. "You're so casual about it," she said. "But go on... where is he?"

"Right here," a new voice said, and Blue Photon's translucent form stepped out from behind the Monolith. "The three of us together again at last... it's good to see you, Tango."

"You too, Blue," Tango said, swallowing hard. "I wish it... well."

"Were under better circumstances?" Blue guessed. "These are better circumstances, cousin. I'm healthy, for the first time in eight years. Apart from the obvious," he added. He reached down and took Imbolc's hand. "Besides..." he murmured, and their smiles said more than words ever could.

"So people from your world become ghosts," Steve said, breaking the silence. "I'll have to remember that when-" He cut himself off suddenly. "I mean, if..."

Tango looked at him amusedly. "Yes, you will," she agreed. "And let's stick with when, Steve."

"If I weren't dead I think I'd die of embarrassment," Blue murmured to Imbolc. "Were we that awkward back in the day?"

"You were worse," Tango told him sharply. "Don't be a pain, Blue. These past seven years haven't been a social whirlwind for me, either."

"Then now's the time for a fresh start," Imbolc said. "But before you do, we need something from you."

Tango blinked. "From me?"

"From both of you," Imbolc corrected. "Tango... Narto - my little brother Narto - works here at the PPC. Your new boyfriend should be able to find him. Bring him here."

Chapter Twenty - Rise To Lead

Nyx and Dassie followed the Dandelion who had introduced herself as Weed-23. The corridors of HQ were just as tangled as usual, but the Weed took each turn with confidence. Nyx frowned and whispered to Dassie, "Does any of this look vaguely familiar?"

Dassie's lips were pressed into a fine line. "More than vaguely," he said. "This is the route I took up to the Mysterious Somebody's office."

Nyx glanced at their guide. "Deliberate, do you think?"

Just so you know, Weed-23 said without turning her flower, I can hear everything you're saying. And no, it isn't deliberate – this is simply the quickest route to the Committee Room.

"They set up shop in his old office?" Dassie murmured. "Bet that went down well."

No one was particularly aware of it, the Dandelion commented. Then she swung her blossom to face them and added in a different tone, I hope you aren't going to be tiresome about this.

"About... oh." Up ahead their corridor merged with another, along which a Tumbleweed had just led a red-haired woman and a brown-haired man in a DMS uniform. At Nyx's side, Dassie flinched back as the woman turned towards them. "Isn't that...?"

"Tango Dioxide," Dassie affirmed. "She tried to kill me earlier."

I should just stop hoping, Weed-23 said. Hello, Thirty-Seven.

Twenty-three, the other Weed acknowledged. Tango was glaring past him, and were it not for her companion's hand on her arm she looked likely to have launched herself at the other two already. Nyx stepped in front of Dassie protectively.

"Well, well," Tango called as they approached. "Nyx Nightingale. I never would have marked you down as a traitor, but Steve's told me what you did. I'm surprised they left the pair of you alive to stand trial."

"Oh, good," Nyx snapped, "you caught up on not-so-current events. Did you happen to hear about the bit where we killed the Bracket Fungus? Or how Dassie stopped your old friend from killing some girl? You remember Blue, don't you – he's the partner you abandoned when you ran off to DAVD."

Tango stared at her, her jaw working soundlessly, and then burst into tears. Steve wrapped his arms around her and glared at Nyx. "You don't know what she's been through-"

"She doesn't know what we've been through!"

"I think there's been a lot of going through on all sides," Dassie said quietly. "I know what we did to you, Tango. But Nyx and I have been on the run almost as long as you."

I think this has gone on long enough, a mental voice said, and the four humans looked up guiltily to see the Sunflower Official approaching. You do realise we can hear every word in the Committee Room, don't you?

There were several moments of uncomfortable silence, which Steve was the first to break. "Sir," he said, "why are we all here?"

I understand you are here because you wouldn't leave your friend's side, the SO stated. As for our three prodigals, I think that would be better discussed in the Committee Room. Come. He turned and headed back towards the door. Almost instinctively, the four humans followed. Nyx exchanged a wry look with Dassie.

"He's good at this leadership thing, isn't he?"

I have had a great deal of practice, the SO said, and pushed open the door to the Committee Room. Enter. Seats have been provided for you.

The Committee Room was mostly taken up by a large metal desk with computer access points set into it. Around this desk six Flowers stood in various sized pots, along with one uncomfortable-looking human. At the far end of the table, a large flat monitor displayed a view of an even larger tree. Four chairs had been positioned against the wall. As the new arrivals sat down, the SO moved to the head of the table.

Members of the Board of Flowers, the Sunflower began. The man at the table gave him a look and he shook a leaf. Of the Board of Department Heads, then. The crisis we have just weathered has forced many changes on us. We have seen the sad demise of the Wisteria, and the reorganisation of this very Board. We have also witnessed the return of certain former members of our organisation. Some sought to destroy us – some sought to aid us. The former are dead. These three are representatives of the latter.

There was a murmur around the table. One of the Flowers, a Clover, ruffled his petals and said, I recognise their faces from the Archives – these three were branded criminals during the Reorganisation.

"Then the Archives are out of date," the man at the table said quietly. Nyx gasped softly as she suddenly recognised him. Doctor Fitzgerald went on: "I treated the young gentleman there at the end of the Reorganisation; he was gravely wounded due to his efforts on the PPC's behalf. Our behalf, Clover."

They have proven their loyalties in this latest crisis, the Sub Rosa added. Mr. Hyrax and Ms. Nightingale killed the Bracket Fungus, and Ms. Dioxide slew his second-in-command. These are our people.

"You did?" Nyx and Tango hissed at each other simultaneously. The SO gave them a disapproving look, conveyed through expressive folding of his petals.

We have debated this matter to decomposition already, he said. We do not need to rehash old arguments. What we need now is a consensus. What is to be done with these allies of ours? He looked across at the humans. Tango, Dassie, Nyx, he said, what do you think? Do you wish to rejoin the PPC?

The three humans - Steve had pushed his chair backwards, allowing him to hold Tango's hand without getting in anyone's line of sight – exchanged glances, then Tango shrugged and stood up. "I'm sticking around whether you like it or not," she said bluntly. "The PPC took my from my home, and no one knows the way back." At this, Captain Dandy stirred slightly, but remained silent. "My cousin and my friend both died for this place," Tango went on. "Narto is the only link I have left to my past, and he works here." She glanced to the side and squeezed Steve's hand. "More than that, I've finally found someone I can talk to. I spent seven years on the run because of this place. I'm not leaving it now." She nodded firmly. "I'll rejoin, if you'll have me."

Nyx smiled faintly and rose to her feet. "I can hardly match Tango in eloquence," she told the Board, "so I won't try. I left because I wasn't safe in HQ. I came back because HQ would be safer with me. I'll stay, if I may, because the Multiverse will be safer that way." She sat down again and glanced at Dassie. He sighed softly and rose to his feet.

"I was in the DIS," he said quietly. "I didn't like it, but I was with them. I was also a pawn of the Mysterious Somebody. He stole my DNA and made an army out of me." He paused, looking around the room, his expression troubled. "For seven years I've had to run from my former compatriots. I've killed dozens of them – I've watched them kill hundred, thousands of innocents. The only reason I was out there is that the PPC didn't trust me." He shook his head. "I still support the Canon Protection Initiative, but I don't think I could stomach more killing." He looked at the Sub Rosa, who had begun to stir. "Not spying, either, ma'am," he said, with a hint of sadness.

"I have another suggestion," Doctor Fitzgerald said. "Work with me, Mr. Hyrax. I saw how you cared for Agent Salamander. We could use more Nurses of your calibre – we could use more Nurses of any calibre," he added candidly.

The Assassins recruit their own members, the Marquis de Sod said blandly. So do the Spies. You ask me to do all the work for you.

"Who are we supposed to enlist?" Fitzgerald asked. "All our patients are Agents already."

Perhaps we should put this to one side and hear Mr. Hyrax's reply, the Queen Anne's Lace spoke up. The Flowers looked along the table at Dassie, who shrugged.

"I'd work in Medical," he allowed. "I don't know that I'd be much good, but I'd do it."

Then perhaps we can consider the motion carried, the booming voice of Hornbeam said from the direction of the console, and move on to matters of greater importance. The repair work necessary on our Headquarters will be very time-consuming.

We haven't resolved everything, the Floating Hyacinth pointed out. Mses. Dioxide and Nightingale have said they wish to return to the PPC, but in which Departments? If they are undecided, perhaps they could join my own Department of Floaters. Our non-specialised approach would allow them to enter active duty without needing to- She stopped. Nyx and Tango were both shaking their heads.

"I'm an Assassin," Nyx said. "I won't be anything else."

"The DIS sent me to DAVD," Tango added. "This time, I'm staying where I want."

Very well, then, the SO said. Are we agreed, members of the Board? The Flowers all nodded various appendages, with Doctor Fitzgerald joining in. Then I am delighted to welcome you back to the PPC, Agent Dioxide, Agent Nightingale, Nurse Hyrax.

We'll be keeping an eye on you, though, the Tiger Lily said. If my Department were in better shape you would have observers assigned to you. As it is... we'll be watching.

"And so will we," Nyx said firmly. "I've broken one Security Department in my lifetime, Tiger Lily. Don't let your DIA be the second."

Enough veiled threats, I think, the SO said smoothly. Ladies and gentlemen, we have business to attend to. The next item on the agenda, since we have three new recruits in our midst, is the assigning of Response Centres. He looked at Tango and Steve. Perhaps Agent Dioxide would care to move into RC #4952...

"That's very distracting, you know."

Narto quickly lifted his hand away from the grey cover. "I didn't think you could hear," he said.

Salamander shook his head. "The music's not that loud. Besides, I could feel you drumming your fingers."

Narto sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous."

Sal smiled. "I don't blame you. If Kayleigh was injured that badly, I'd be pretty jumpy too."

"I've only been partnered with Selene for a couple of weeks," Narto said. "She still scares me quite a bit. But I don't want her to die, you know?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Sal said. "You remember what Doctor Fitzgerald said – since she's not exactly alive, repairing her is a lot easier."

"I just wish he'd done it himself rather than getting that Nurse to deal with it."

"For your information," a new voice said, "all members of the Medical Department are referred to as Nurses. I happen to be a fully-qualified surgeon."

"Hello, Nurse McKay," Sal said cheerfully. "How are you at extracting feet from mouths?"

Marian McKay gave him a tight – and completely wasted – smile. "Agent Telyan," she said, "you may wish to know that your partner is awake. In defiance of tradition, she is not asking for you, but is rather pronouncing curses on various persons, both living and dead. However, you may go in and see her anyway."

Narto looked uncertain. "Has she used her lightning on anyone yet?"

"Not anyone living." Nurse McKay gave that same, tight smile. "Several of our machines-which-go-ping! will never be the same again, however."

Narto searched for a response that wouldn't result in him being Selene's eventual lightning rod. He was saved from making a decision, however, by the sound of a woman singing.

"...bad slash-fic authors all tied up with strings, these are a few of my favourite things! When the Lace calls, when the- Salamander! Big smile!"

Narto and Nurse McKay stared at the brown-haired woman who had just skipped into the ward. Sal, however, grinned. "Hi, Kayleigh," he said. "It's good to, uh, hear you."

"Good to hear you too!" Kayleigh replied. "I've been looking all over for you. You'll never believe what happened! I met the cutest little fairy with the most adorable name, and she-"

"I can see I'm not needed her," Nurse McKay said dryly. "Agent Telyan, if you decide to visit your partner, please let me know first. I may need to clean up after you."

"Nurse McKay!" Salamander called as she turned to go. "Do you... that is to say, has Nurse Swanson mentioned anything about my operation?"

Nurse McKay stiffened, but didn't turn around. "There won't be any operation, Agent Salamander," she said quietly. "Not unless you accept at least some mechanical augmentation. The damage is simply too great."

"Don't be ridiculous," Narto said into the shocked silence. "You have access to all the technology of the Multiverse. Replacing a pair of eyes is simple. The medical tech of Star Trek alone-"

"Is pretty much useless in the case of eyes," Nurse McKay snapped. "If your friend wasn't so stubborn, he could have the best implants in all the worlds, but he simply refuses. You talk some sense into him." With that, she left the room.

Kayleigh frowned and said, "Frown. Why don't you want eyes, Sal? They wouldn't make you look too ugly."

Salamander shook his head. "It's not like that," he said. "Electronics... Kay, you know I tend to kill our console once a week. CADs hate me, the Remote Activator dumps us in Dorthonion every chance it gets... I do not want sensitive electronics on my face. I've read a few stories about that – they're not pretty."

"Maybe they could shield them," Narto suggested. "Or... I don't know, but they could find something."

"Sure they could," Sal said bitterly, "but probably at the cost of my optic nerves. No. If they can't grow me new eyes and implant them properly, I'll go on being blind. It's not too bad, once you get used to it."

"I'll help," Kayleigh suggested. "I can tell you what you would be looking at, where everything is – it'll be great." Sal gave a wan smile.

"Thanks, Kay," he replied. "That'd be great." He was about to say more, but there was a knock, and a red-haired woman walked into the ward. She ignored Salamander and Kayleigh and looked straight at Narto.

"Narto," she breathed. "It really is you. I didn't really believe it until now..."

Narto stared at her. "Tango Dioxide?" he asked. "You were my sister's friend... I wanted to talk to you earlier, but you left too fast."

Tango smiled. "I was a bit busy," she said, "but there's time now. Or... there will be." She glanced at the other two. "I'm going to need to steal Narto for a while," she told them. "There's someone he absolutely has to go and see."

Narto sat against the wall, looking up at the figures in front of him. "It's a lot to take in," he said.

"I know it is, Narto," Imbolc said gently. "I certainly had trouble with it."

"Me too," Blue said. Tango gave a wry smile.

"Me three," she said. Imbolc grinned at her shyly.

"You got over it, though. That's the sort of joke you would have made back home."

Tango nodded slightly. "It almost feels like none of it ever happened," she admitted. "Here we all are again – and even little Narto's here."

"Not so little any more," Blue pointed out, shaking his head. Narto looked at him.

"Speaking of which – and we weren't – why didn't you tell me who you were earlier?"

Blue's ghost shrugged. "I was insane, you know," he pointed out. "I wasn't exactly thinking logically. I'd already run into Immy by that point, but I was still completely messed up."

"Is that why you did it?" Tango asked hesitantly. "Why you tried to kill Ontic?"

"Partly," Blue admitted. "Partly... partly I really did hate her. She killed Immy, along with any hope I had of a normal life. She was there when I was imprisoned." He shook his head. "But the way I did it was insane."

"And it turned out for the best," Imbolc put in. "It's better that you're here with me."

"It is," Blue agreed, "but I do wonder how we might have lived if things had gone differently. If we'd never heard of the Mary-Sue Factory..."

"The PPC would still be under their dominion," Imbolc said firmly. "Nothing is worth that."

There was a long, awkward moment of silence. Narto broke it by standing up and looking across at the Monolith in the centre of the Tomb. "'Imbolc Telyan'," he read. "There were other names, too. So why's it called the Tomb of the Unknown PPC Agent?"

"The ways of the Flowers are mysterious," Imbolc intoned, and then grinned. "I honestly haven't a clue, and I've been here for seven years."

"I've got a guess," Blue said. "This was DIS Central before they broke it. Agents... a lot of Agents died here. Palaver... lots of Agents." His mouth twisted. "The DIS killed them. No one knows how many they were. They're the Unknown PPC Agents, because this is the only tomb they'll ever have."

"So they put the names of the ones they did know up," Tango added quietly. "They didn't want to forget what happened. It could happen again."

"'At the going down of the sun'," Imbolc murmured, "'and in the morning...'"

"'We will remember them'," Narto finished. "And we will."

The flames of the funeral pyre flared higher under the cold starlight. Jasmine pulled her overcoat tight around her shoulders as she watched Durran Mkellin's mortal remains burn on the stack of logs. "He told me once what happened to his world," she said, not looking round. "How the forces of Chaos came upon it, and it... burned. I think he regretted not going down with it - all his people did." She rubbed her eyes, brushing away the tears before they had a chance to fall. "I think this is what he would have wanted."

"You've always been very perceptive," Constance Illian told her daughter. "I'm certain you saw into his heart and found the truth, just as you used to with your siblings."

Jasmine nodded slightly. "He wasn't like the rest," she said vaguely. "They were always full of so much hate for everything good and noble and light. But Kell... he knew his duty. He did what he could. But he never hated them. You."

"He sounds like a good man," Constance agreed. "The world... it might be a happier place if he had lived."

"I know I would be," Jasmine said, her voice finally cracking. "Oh, Kell, why did you have to leave me?"

Her mother stepped up behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know what it's like," she said softly. "When your father died, I was heartbroken. I was able to bring him back, by the grace of the Valar, but for a time... yes, I understand your pain." She glanced down slightly, over Jasmine's shoulder. "And I didn't even have... that much to remember him by."

Jasmine nodded again, blinking back her tears. Behind them, Dafydd Illian frowned. "Wait, what?" He stepped forward to his wife's side, looking at his daughter. "I hadn't heard about this. What?"

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Da-ad," she protested, "stop it. Mam and I've been going on about this all week."

"Now, dear," Constance said dryly, "you don't expect your father to pay attention to these things, do you? Despite the fact that he claims to be able to see this sort of thing." She glanced at Dafydd, who grimaced.

"I wasn't looking," the elf pointed out. "I mean, she's barely more than a child--!"

"I'm twenty-three, Dad," Jasmine protested. Dafydd sniffed.

"My point still stands. Barely more than a child, why would I think she... you...!"

Constance shook her head slowly. "Kids," she said in a slightly raised voice, directing her comment to their other four children, "take note: Calaquendi your father may be, but he's very unobservant for it. Probably old age."

Dafydd stuck his tongue out. "When six thousand years old you reach..." he half quoted.

Jasmine Illian laughed softly and looked back at the pyre. "Kell," she said quietly, "I'm glad I knew you... but it's good to be home."

i know there have been deaths i know there has been pain but the enemy has been defeated the organisation has been preserved

i do not think in the short term i plan for the longest term now they will prosper the future will be bright

goodbye i hope i see you again

Epilogue - All The Dreams

Ontic awoke in the grey room and wondered what was wrong. After a few minutes of thought, she started to wonder what was right, instead, and finally concluded it was her. It had been twelve years since she had last thought this clearly, and she wasn't sure she could handle it. She remembered, and remembered not remembering, and she wasn't sure which was worse.

Twelve years ago, her first mission with the PPC had shattered her mind, sending her headlong into a pit of insanity from which she hadn't been able to escape, and hadn't wanted to. Now she was out, but still standing on the edge. The pit was there, waiting, and it would be so easy to fall in again, to surrender to its depths, to become again who she had been for nearly half her life.

There was a movement across the room, and Ontic the Black Cat whirled around to see what it was. Ontic the Guard stared at her sister, Elanor, the girl who she had lost her mind trying to protect, sleeping restlessly alongside their brother on an austere grey chair. Ontic the half-orphan, child of war-torn Paris, marvelled that the three of them were together in the same room and yet there was no shouting. And Ontic the woman without a home, without a job, possibly about to be put on trial for mass murder, curled up in her bed and wept.

She didn't know how long she lay there, as the tears streamed down her fact, but in the end she looked up to be greeted by a tissue in an outstretched hand, two worried faces which shared features with her own. No longer children but still her siblings, Steve Dimond and Elanor Laison looked down at their sister with nothing but love and concern in their eyes. It was so long since Ontic had seen eyes without fear or anger in them that she almost broke down again at the sight, yet she held together. She had to, for their sakes.

"Hello, Elanor. I tried to get you out."

Elanor nodded, golden hair falling about her shoulders. "You succeeded, Ontic. They found me the night I turned fourteen."

Ontic shuddered, remembering her own fourteenth birthday. There had been no PPC Agents to rescue her, not then. It had taken two more years, two years of continuous work, before she had gotten out. Had she known that Elanor had gotten out? She wasn't sure. She could work out, with her mind now in order, that it had been the year after the Cats had left the PPC. She didn't think she'd known.

"Steve," she said, looking at her brother. "You…"

Steve's eyes closed, remaining that way longer than a blink could account for. "I remember you in my first couple of years. I remember seeing you and wondering what had happened to my sister. I know now." His eyes closed again, this time staying shut.

Ontic nodded. "I didn't notice you," she said. There was no need for excuses or apologies. They both knew what she'd been through, what had happened to her, and at this time, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were back together at last. The family was together.

Not quite. "What happened to Mother?" Ontic asked quietly. Their mother hadn't cared for them after the War – that had been Ontic's task – but she had paid for their lives with her body, given them a roof to sleep under, and for that the three had always shown gratitude, if not love.

It was Steve who answered. "I went back to see her a few times," he said. "Left her some money, in the years where there was any. Two years ago, she wasn't there any more. They said she'd been taken away to the Camps, but they wouldn't tell me more. I don't know what happened."

Ontic nodded, accepting the news. It seemed appropriate, somehow, that both her parents were gone now that she had come of age at last. Her body was twenty-eight, but her mind, reassembled and forced to reflect on what it had done, was far older. In her own head, Ontic thought, she was probably older than the woman who had given birth to her.

Elanor spoke up quietly. "We could go back," she said. "We could go back and get her. Bring her here. If you need her."

"No. What's past is past. We can't change that. We shouldn't."

"Not even…" Steve stopped, unable to go on, but Ontic knew what he meant.

"Not even me. I deserved what happened to me, every bit of it."

"You didn't," said Elanor, blue eyes wide. "You did nothing wrong. You kept us safe…"

"I sold myself," Ontic replied flatly. "After all we were taught."

"So did I, almost," Elanor said. "Has everything since then been payment for that? Is that why I died?"

Ontic started, sitting up. "You died?" she said, stunned. "But I didn't…"

"It wasn't you. I was on a mission, and I just wasn't fast enough."

Ontic shook her head. "If I'd been there…"

"You couldn't have been, Ontic. It was a mission. You couldn't have protected me."

"If I had never come to the PPC…"

"Then we'd all be a lot worse off."

"You'd still be alive."

"I'm alive again."

"If I'd just killed myself…"

"Things would be different."

"Who are you to say if they'd be better?"

Ontic shook her head. "They'd have to be. All I did… all the deaths…" Imbolc, she thought, but didn't say.

Steve and Elanor exchanged a look. "You've forgotten who you were," Steve said, at last. "You've forgotten being our big sister."

"Being our protector, our guard long before you were a Guard," Elanor added.

"I can't help it. It's been so long. I don't think I could ever get that back. I don't think I could ever be that girl again."

"Perhaps not. But you don't know until you try."

"How can I try? Twelve years… I've forgotten how to be innocent."

"There's always a way," Elanor said intensely. "Innocence is not ignorance. But you need time."

"Do I have time?" Ontic asked. "I was their enemy. Will they let me live?"

"They had better," a new voice said, "or I'll be out of a job."

Ontic turned her head sharply to see a face from her past. "Agent Hyrax," she said. "I remember you."

"You'll remember a lot of things from now on," Dassie Hyrax assured her. "I promised you that when I brought you here. They've fixed you, Ontic Laison."

Ontic nodded slowly. "They've fixed my present," she said slowly. "That means my past is... past, and I have a future." She frowned, looking up at Dassie. "But why are you here, in the present?"

Dassie smiled and showed her his arm. The green armband around his bicep should have meant something to Ontic, and she was surprised to find that it did. "You're in the Medical Department," she said. "They took you back, too."

"The Flowers aren't holding grudges," Dassie told her. "But they do have a sense of humour. I've been assigned as your observer. I have to make sure you're recovering on schedule – and I suppose I'm meant to watch for signs of regression."

Ontic smiled thinly. "I'll let you know if I start feeling the urge to pull – what was it? - to pull the legs off flies."

"Sounds like a plan," Dassie agreed. He looked at her brother and sister. "Doctor Fitzgerald says Ontic can leave Medical any time she wants," he told them. "Does she have anywhere to go?"

"Always," Steve said, and Elanor nodded with him.

"She'll always have a home with us."

CRASHING DOWN

is dedicated to

Starwind Rohana

Greatest fan & driving force

Disclaimer: The PPC was created by Jay and Acacia. All canons referenced herein belong to their respective creators. Crashing Down was written by Huinesoron.

Published: 25 May 2007 - 28 March 2010

Timeline: 23 May 2006 - 7 June 2006