I've got a bad feeling about this

"I'm happy with you decision, QB. Really." Vic announced suddenly. "You are aware of course, that my primary matrix is located on your person and your **** will inevitably terminate me as well?"

"You want to drive for a while, Vic? Is that it?" Quarterback asked as he crept to the edge of the roof.

"I want to know why we aren't safely aboard the Kalais ordering an orbital bombardment. The Tomians are all running or dead. We've achieved local superiority. We should make use of that."

"Because we're hunters, Vic."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"We need to confirm the kill."

"Because a six hundred meter, smoking crater isn't confirmation enough..." Vic replied archly.

"You said Crisis-2 got into the sewers."

"That was days ago." They'd that time to return to their shuttle and resupply. "With this level of Typhon activity, he's dead."

"Then show me his body."

Quarterback peeked over the lip into the streets below. It looked so different from before. Most of the Rabies Babies had been reduced to ash, almost all the buildings were completely rubble by now, courtesy of the Invader's main drive lighting up in atmosphere. That was damn near a war crime, but he couldn't argue with the results.

"The Tomians will return, and in greater numbers." Vic said finally

As if he needed reminding. Where was that ship? Where were the black armored men he'd been hunting for years? Murphy was dead, the galaxy was already a better place for it. That was the most good he could put forth. Addition by subtraction. And there were none he wanted to subtract more than these. Tomians. Typhons. Whatever nightmares Ya Fen still held, the Quarterback wasn't leaving until he counted five dead bodies.

---

Crisis-2 shouldered another boulder aside. Their ship had nearly been buried under the rubble. That was a problem. His problem. And none of his usual solutions would solve it. He pulled the manual release and dragged the airlock doors open.

"Honey. I'm home!" He called into the darkness. Silence answered back. Crisis-4 had better still be alive. Slippery little fuck had been designated pilot since 1 died. It had made him temporarily indispensable. A fact that had frustrated him considerably. But with the ship now ruined....

A faint light slowly approached, along with the ponderous footfalls of a giant. Crisis-5. He had taken his helmet off and was holding a brick covered in glowstrips as a lantern. Crisis-5 raked his eyes over him, taking in every wound, as always, weakness meant ****, the pack could only be lead by someone strong. Crisis-2 refused to try and push himself higher or puff out his chest, such pathetic displays would only communicate fear. But there was no fear in him. At long last, the giant nodded his head in submission.

"You look like shit, Crisis-Leader."

"I found a Scaleskin in the sewers."

"You beat him?"

"I ate him."

They walked in silence after that. Crisis-5 leading the way. Their were more glowing bricks inside the cargo bay where the others waited. Crisis-3 was on a table, armor off and groaning in his sleep. Which left only Crisis-4 and- to his complete shock -Doctor Murphy seemingly fine, and in the middle of a pointed discussion.

There is more to him, than meets the eye. The Voice cautioned. It had been growing more talkative, since Crisis-2 had kept the serum flowing constantly. It's insight had proven invaluable, just another advantage he couldn't afford to lose. Crisis-2 caught the end of their conversation as he came closer.

"You can't leave this stuff here." Crisis-4 pointed to the freaky webbing, Dr. Murphy had insisted they bring along.

"By all means, remove it." Dr. Murphy nodded in towards the Strand. It had only become more and more active since they crashed.

Crisis-4 took a step towards the flowing tendrils, then froze as they rippled and swayed at his approach. He lept back with a cry. "Make it stop doing that!" He whined.

Dr. Murphy ignored him, instead his eyes bored into Crisis-2 with an disturbing intensity. "Welcome back, Crisis-Leader. Or should I say, congratulations?"

"Everything was turned on, when the EMP hit." Crisis-4 dropped into a submissive pose almost immediately. Pathetic. "It's all dead. The ship, the weapons, all our tech." He snapped his fingers. "Gone."

"Then I guess I don't need you anymore." Crisis-2 replied, enjoying the the full bodied squirm that followed. "Medbay?"

"Crushed." Crisis-5 confirmed. "The Doc did what he could for Crisis-3 though. He's gonna pull through."

"Speaking of, I saw you get shot, Doctor. Are you-"

"Do you have a plan to get us off this world?" The Doctor asked. "Before the Enemy, finds us again?"

"I don't." Crisis-2 admitted. "But-"

"The comms are down as well."

"I don't like it when you interrupt me." Crisis-2 said softly. Beside him, he felt Crisis-5 move to his side. Murphy was trapped on a hostile world, with monsters of his own making. Curiously, he couldn't sense any fear from the man. "I don't have a plan, yet. We'll need more serum, to continue operations."

"I gave you all that I had. If you have used your entire supply in this brief time..."

He didn't care for the man's tone. "Make. More."

"With what equipment? Or base materials?" Doctor Murphy spread his hands wide. "This planet may be littered with specimens, but they are hardly likely to volunteer for donation. I'm afraid whatever supply you've found yourself with, is all that remains."

Don't trust him. The Voice announced.

"There's something you're not telling me." Crisis-2 let his hand slide down to the stolen revolver in his belt. "I don't like secrets, either."

Before the Doctor could offer his last words, Crisis-2 felt a hand grip his shoulder. He turned to Crisis-5, who took one look at his face and yanked his hand free like it had been burned. Weak.

They are all weak. This pack. The serum. Weak. The Voice murmured. You.

Weak.

It was so obvious coming back from the tunnels. The serum didn't make them strong. It made them dependent. Slaves. The juice was a tool that someone with actual strength used to control those weaker, and stupider, than themselves. Someone like Doctor Murphy. He stared down at the tiny little man who had secretly ruled his life for years. The man had nearly ruined him, he'd taken a naive young boy, broken and forgotten by those who claimed to love him and slipped a leash around his neck. He hadn't been honed into a weapon, he'd been made into someone's dog. It was monstrous. Barbaric. Evil.

He couldn't help it. He laughed. First a giggle, then a deep heavy chuckle that shook his entire body. All this time, all this effort. How silly his desperation for more juice must have seemed. Here he was begging this man to tighten the lease around his neck as if it were a crown on his head. Even the boy he'd once been hadn't begged, and that boy was a coward. That boy would have been afraid of what Crisis-2 had seen in those tunnels. That boy was dead. And all the better, because what he'd seen down there was power. True power. The kind that once taken, was kept. And it was going to be his.

"Leave us." Crisis-2 commanded. And his followers scurried out the door. The Doctor, never looked away though. He knew. "You never gave Adam a serum, did you?"

"I did not."

"But he's like them."

"I believe so."

"How?"

Dr. Murphy looked uncomfortable for the first time, since they'd landed. He shook his head. "I do not know. Previous attempts to graft Typhon DNA onto human subjects have failed. The Typhon genes are too strong, too pure. They purge the human DNA, even if vastly outnumbered, they spread like a cancer, hijacking cells until the samples become non-viable. Somehow, Carter is able to withstand the superior alleles, and they have been incorporated into his genome."

"And that?" He pointed to the Strand. It almost felt like it was calling to him.

"That is the key to their unique evolution. Whatever it is that allows them to purify their bodies, happens in there."

Crisis-2 held out his arm. As if by magic, the nearest strands gently embraced it. He felt the barest stirring of light and sound. A hint of memory. A trace of thought.

"Fascinating." Dr. Murphy said, his eyes alight with curiosity. "The mycovirus that allows the Typhon to reproduce, is actually found in the Strand as well. It's what binds them together as a single lifeform. Like bonds to like. How...?"

"I'm covered in their blood, Doc. And I ate a couple of them."

Dr. Murphy just stared at him. "Your DNA is too damaged by overuse of the serum. Even if it were healthy, a g r a f t w o u l d..."

The Doctor's words faded farther and farther away. In their place came the whispers, a handful of voices, too distant to be heard, one for each filament of Strand wrapped around his arm.

More. The Voice in his head commanded.

Crisis-2 plunged another arm into the Strand. The voices grew louder, their hums sharpened into words and promises. They showed him the past, Gorgo, Adam and a dead Typhon wrapped in a silver embrace. The present, the sleepers of a thousand worlds, waiting for him. And the future, lights burning out one by one, worlds turning dark, until even the stars themselves were consumed. They offered him power.

And he accepted.

Crisis-2 pulled out of the Strand, pushing past the silent but curious Doctor. He stood over the **** body of Crisis-3. His teammate was handsome, or he had been once. Dark and perpetually brooding, he had the face of a man with closely guarded secrets and deep inner thoughts. Now he was waxy and pale, as hairless as the rest of them. It didn't matter, Crisis-2 wasn't really seeing him. He saw himself, younger, face still round with baby fat, laying on table like this. Crying. Begging. Thrashing in his restraints until he passed out from exhaustion. Murphy or some other uncaring monster standing above him, giving him his very first dose.

That had been the last time he'd felt fear, he realized. Once he tasted serum, his life became fire. Became fury. But that boy hadn't wanted to be powerful. He was alone. Scared. He just wanted someone to stroke his hair; to hold his hand and take away the pain.

Crisis-2 lifted his auto injector and gave Crisis-3 the last of his serum. The man woke with a start, his eyes wild and afraid.

"Shhh. Shhhh." He gently stroked his teammates empty scalp and **** himself to meet the man's eyes. He reached down and squeezed his teammate's hand.

"I only need one voice in my head."

He blew Crisis-3's head to silvery mush with the stolen revolver and lifted the body into his arms, uncaring that the silver had begun to eat him too. The tendrils reached out for him. Touched, soothed, welcomed into their embrace. It was nothing like the serum after all. There was no fire. No fury.

There was rapture. And power.

---

Adam peeked out of engineering. There was only one hall leading to the reactor room, and it was long as hell. "Sam!" He called out. His voice echoed off the walls, with no reply.

Knew it. She was in the gym. She'd been training non stop since Ya Fen. Worrisome, but helpful. It meant she was out of the way. Kat and Cindi were off the ship already, which is why he had to do this now, before they got back and his window closed.

They'd made it all the way to the Constantine system without being detected. Courtesy of Cindi's gifted piloting. A few close calls, but what else was new? Kat had known the right people to bribe, and the right ones to bully for them to get landing clearance in one of the seedier parts of the planet. No beaches on this trip, just a half rotted industrial park and a slab of concrete for a landing pad. Still, they'd snuck on to the Capital world of a hostile superpower. Not bad.

Adam made it to the reactor and he did what he came to do. Now he just had to wait. He wandered away from his science project without much destination in mind. Not surprising, he found himself outside the room Sam had rigged up to train with. Fitness hadn't been Jdics highest priority, so most of the equipment was makeshift; rebar and broken chunks of armor welded together to make freeweights, a length of heavy cable tied to a pair of fuel cells for squats. At moment Sam was venting her frustration in a series of kicks against a homemade heavy punching bag, made of giant water bladders stolen from the cargo bay, held together by god knows how many meters of tape and chained to the ceiling. The blood seeping through the wrapping on her knuckles suggested she'd been at it a while.

"I'm starting to think that bag did you dirty, Sam." He ought to have played it safe. Ought to have started with an apology, but that wasn't who he was. And it wasn't what they did.

"You offering to stand in?" Another kick, this one hard enough to knock the bag send it spinning away on the chain.

"Nah. I wanna fall back on my looks after this."

Sam grunted and switches to punches, shaking off little droplets of blood after each hit. "Cindi and my mom won't be back for hours. Maybe you should work off that gut."

Adam looked down by reflex, then snapped his gaze back quickly enough to catch the smile Sam tried to hide. She threw another combo, added a spinning roundhouse at the end. "You make all this yourself?"

"Yeah." She grunted. Another combo, faster this time. "It's impressive." Adam added as he watched her try and destroy her creation. Sam didn't respond, beyond a throwing a haymaker that made the bag spin. Okay, time to try a direct approach.

"I'm sorry about what I said before."

"Don't be."

"I didn't mean that you failed." Her only reply was more punches. "Sam, I can't beat those guys either."

"I know."

"So then why are you killing yourself in here? I'm trying to say what happened on Ya Fen was my fuck up, ok? Not yours."

Sam dropped her fists and turned to face him. Her eyes were flat, almost contemptuous. "Cindi flies the ship."

"Yeah."

"Mom's the doctor and does the science stuff."

"Ok."

"So what do I do?"

"I dunno, Sam. What do I do for that matter?"

"I'm not asking about you." She searched his eyes. "What. Do I. Do?"

Adam knew the answer. He even knew the point she was trying to make, as much as he hated to admit it. He tried a different tactic, instead. "You really helped Cindi, you know that?" Another grunt. "How 'bout you stop avoiding me and we actually talk?"

"I can compartmentalize." Sam kneed bag repeatedly in the midsection, then another flurry of punches. "Besides, I haven't been avoiding you. You've been avoiding me."

That was a very generous interpretation of their last week. Adam had a feeling if he played back the internal cameras he's see a lot of tape showing him 'avoiding Sam' by arriving just when she coincidentally decided leave. Probably wouldn't help to point that out though. 'With a woman, you can be right or you can be happy.' That was something his father had said, so very long ago. Funny, these last few weeks, as terrible and brutal as they'd been, it was the first time Adam hadn't missed Francis in years. 'If it matters, put in the time.' That was another thing he said.

Adam rolled his eyes and grabbed the heavy bad, steadying it as Sam wordlessly beat out her frustrations for the next ten minutes.

"What are you doing?" She finally demanded. Her kicks and punches had been getting slower as she burned through her energy. She was barely moving the bag now, much less Adam.

"Taking care of you. That's what I do." Adam answered, daring her to send him away. She didn't. In fact, he could have sworn he saw a bit of tension ease out of her shoulders. She rained down combos non stop, until she was soaked in sweat and fighting to catch her breath. When she paused, Adam spoke up. "You still drop your guard on that left hook, I see."

She cocked and eyebrow at him and smirked. "I'm not sure the guys who's ass I kicked left, right and center should be offering me advice."

"What if he offered you dinner, instead?"

Sam shrugged with a tilt of her head, she didn't go down easy, this girl. "Some people like to eat after a work out."

"Maybe there would even be some drinks...Flowers....Chocolates?" Adam smiled. He knew he had her, whether she could admit it or not.

"That sounds like a date?" Sam suggested.

"It's gonna feel like one too." He didn't push. He didn't need to.

"Pick me up at my quarters at twenty hundred hours? Now get out of here." She sent a kick his way. "You distract me."

---

By 2200 hours they were both pleasantly drunk and had stumbled back into Sam's room. Adam had tripped over something in the dark and landed on his face, which made Sam laugh so hard she fell down beside him. Adam held up a handful of fabric that was definitely not something he'd catch Sam wearing. Still, he held the them up to her body and gave her a once over.

"I found this in your sisters stuff." Sam said as she snatched the plaid skirt and sheer blouse our of his hands. "Don't tell me you're into this?"

"I think the lady doth protest to much." Adam shot her a cocky grin. He knew they were going to be rolling around in her sheets, very very soon. But putting her in a schoolgirl outfit first...well, he was only human. "Or maybe you're just chicken."

"Perv!" She laughed.

"Bawk, bawk."

Sam slipped around the corner still laughing. After a minute when she didn't return, Adam followed, and what he found made his cock harden instantly.

"Oh hey, Mr. Carter! Does this skirt make my butt look big?" Sam grinned wickedly at Adam's open mouthed shock.

When he found his voice again, he managed to play along. "It's very inappropriate for school, Samara. I'm afraid I'm going to have to speak with your parents about this."

"Oh no. Not my parents!" Sam's exaggerated terror was marred only by the amused twinkle in her eye. Her hips swung like a pendulum as she swaggered over to him and pressed her chest against him, eyes begging for a reprieve. Adam could feel her hard nipples through their clothes. "Isn't there anything I can do... Mister Carter?"

"I think you might be a very slutty girl, Samara." Adam's hands traced around the hem of her shirt, brushing the hot flesh of her waist before they dropped down to cup her most intimately, beneath her skirt. Adam nearly came when he got his first handful. His cousin's ass was a work of art. And would have guessed Sam of all people had such a dirty little mind for roleplay?

"Maybe...You could ....teach me.... to be a good girl?" She suggested.

"It's a LOT of work to teach a bad, slutty girl to be good, Samara. I think you'd need to give me something in return."

---

'What a perv'. Sam smiled. This was more fun than she'd thought it would be.

"I'll do anything to be a good girl, sir!" Sam cried out, bouncing up on her toes before shyly looking away.

"First things first, good girls, shouldn't talk this much." Adam growled. "Let's find something better for mouth to work on."

Sam nearly dove onto her cousin's cock, but before she could squat down, Adam pushed her chest forward, making her bow. As she strained to wrap her mouth around his bulging phallus, she reached back and lifted her skirt. And was immediately rewarded with a spanking. Not a light one either, it was a punishing slap that stung right through her panties.

"Oaaaaaaaaa!" She cried out around the cock nearly lodged in her throat.

"Keep sucking!" Adam shouted. "And start counting."

Another crack. Her right cheek again. "Tuuuuu!" She mumbled, tongue licking and lips dragging over Adam's oversized shaft.

Another, left cheek, then another again, right this time. She pulled back. "Owwww, Adam!"

"No one said stop sucking!" Adam shoved her mouth back onto his cock and this time he pinched her nose shut. "I'll do the counting, since you can't seem to."

Another crack, then another, and another. Left cheek and right, over and over again. 'Seven. Ten. Twelve." Adam didn't stop. He beat her ass red and kept her mouth stuffed with cock. Frankly, Sam would have laid him out, if the whole situation wasn't making her painfully wet. Her panties were soaked and her thighs were squirming with anticipation before every slap, then clenched with fiery burning pleasure after. By the time the counting had stopped, she was halfway to cumming herself.

"I'm afraid, your sluttiness may be more serious than we feared." Adam said after pulling himself free of her mouth.

"Wha- oh yeah. I'm sorry Mr. Carter. I really want to be a good girl. Please don't give up on me." She pleaded. "If spanking won't fix me, what else can we do?"

Adam laughed. "We'll just have to pound it out of you." And with that, he tore her (Well, Cindi's. Sorry Cin.) blouse apart and threw her on the bed. The skirt and panties he pulled to the side, but left on. His cock loomed dangerously above her tummy, the crown pushing over her belly button, and god was it thicker than her wrist? She swallowed.

"Don't worry, Samara." Adam said as he looked down at her. "I'll go slow."

"It's just." Sam hesitated, looked away then met his eyes. "It's my first time."

The words hung in the air, for a full five seconds before they both burst out laughing.

Sam grinned up at him. "Sorry. Too much?"

Adam gave the tip of her nose a playful lick. "It was perfect. You're fun."

"You too. I think I'll keep you." Sam blew a raspberry at him. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

"It's my first time, Mr. Carter." Sam repeated.

"Only little sluts give up their first time to their teacher, Samara." Adam shook his head, then with a **** sigh, he nudged her labial lips apart and pressed himself in. They both gasped at the way her tight walls refused to give, but Adam kept pressing forward, slowly filling her up with cock, until he started a gentle rhythm between her thighs.

"It's too big, Mr. Carter!" Sam cried out.

"Nonsense, Samara." Adam replied as he helped himself to her firm breasts. "There isn't even any blood."

"I lost my cherry playing soccer, sir."

"Good girls, don't play soccer. They shake their pom-poms and their asses for their boyfriends on the sidelines!"

"Sorry, sir." Sam was finding it harder and harder to keep up the roleplay. Adam was too, from the strain on his face. He'd buried nearly 10 inches of cock in her and she could feel her first orgasm crashing down on her. It hit like a wave. Spreading out from her core, electric arcs of pleasure touching briefly on her nipples as it crested.

Adam didn't bother to speak anymore, just hauled her to her knees and plunged into her from behind.

"I'm gonna get this whole thing in you if it kills me, Sam." He grunted, the last inch stubbornly refusing to find a home inside her. She could already feel the head, punching into the spongy flesh of her cervix with every thrust.

"That's Samara, Mr. Carter." She reminded him.

"Shut up and take my cock." Adam growled, lightly tugging on her hair as he pounded her. His hips began to twist and strain with every thrust as he **** himself deeper. It hurt, but it was a nice kind of hurt. At long last, Sam felt her cousin's hips crash into her ass with an audible smack. He held himself still, hands wandering over her body to cup her breasts, pausing to pinch a nipple to stiffness, then smooth it down again with his thumb. He bit her, carefully, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a mark. She could sense his relief and triumph as he crushed her against him. They were one now. She was his, he was hers. The thought triggered a gentle orgasm of her own and she arched her back into him.

"More, please." She begged.

They flopped back onto the bed, spooning now. Adam found his rhythm again quickly. His hips beating a gentle tempo as they shared hot kiss. Their tongues doing battle for a moment before Sam broke away with a cry. She'd come again. But it wasn't enough. She wanted- no she needed -his cum. Preferably painting her from head to toe. She decided to amp up the roleplay again.

"Am I a good girl yet, Mr Carter?" Sam whined.

"Almost." Adam grunted. "But I'm afraid there's only one way to fix slutty little schoolgirls who like to flash their asses. It's a special technique of mine. Slows them down to a waddle, keeps them off ****, teaches them responsibility" Wait. That almost sounded like- he couldn't mean...

Sam gently tried to pull off her cousin, but found herself trapped in his arms. All she could do was writhe and clutch at him as her socked feet slid over the sheets. "I don-don't understand?"

"You give them a bellyful of baby. A nice little bundle of joy to take care of. Really straightens the girls out."

"Wait. Mr Carter-Adam? "

"Are you a good girl, Samara?"

"Yes. Wait!"

"Good girls, get my cum. Right... here." Adam gently laid one hand on her stomach, just below her navel. He was cupping her womb, she realized. "You're gonna be such a good, little mommy."

The words blew through her mind like a firestorm; igniting every neuron in her body. She saw it in her mind. His sperm blowing through the feeble defenses. Racing for her womb- not that they'd have far to go -seeking out the egg, waiting for them. Eager to meet, to fuse, slipping together and creating this whole new person inside her belly.

Strangely the visions didn't end there. She saw the gentle swell of her belly at five months. Adam was there, eyes bright with love, gently touching what they'd made together.

And then months later, she was nearly due, her breasts were already swollen with milk, her stomach tight and full, Adam as hungry for her flesh as ever, and her just as determined to satisfy her beloved.

As the visions began to fade, Sam almost thought she saw a face, with bright blue eyes and tangled dark hair before her final orgasm slid through her like a knife.

She screamed. Pictures flashing, body clenched, spasming, clutching; hands clawing desperately to drag the visions into reality. The next thing she knew, Adam was planting gentle kisses in her hair. Her pussy felt relaxed and pleasantly sore. She finally found her voice.

"I uhh. I'll get some of that Halcyon from my mom. So its probably fine." Sam managed to **** the words out, through the fog in her mind.

“I didn't come in you Sam.” He pointed to a thick ooze of cum splattered down her legs; ruining her sheets. "Or even bite you."

Oh.

Oh!

It took Sam a moment to come to terms with just how disappointing she truly was. She'd had her handful of fucks the past few years. A few to get over Adam, most just for fun. She'd NEVER felt like this. Did she want to be a parent? She was only twenty one for god's sake! Three years older than Mom, when she gave birth, a voice inside countered. And Sam? Pregnant? She'd worked her whole life, 100 sit ups every fucking day! A baby would change everything, upend her whole life. But still, that moment. The sheer thought of Adam's cum pouring into her. It was intoxicating. It made the high of combat seem like a petty, pathetic thing. Only, at the end, she'd be left with a baby.

Her and Adam's baby.

She shivered.

Her and Adam's baby.

Every time she thought of it, it drifted farther from the negative pile and closer to the positive. What exactly was so bad about having a little piece of herself and the man she loved? Sam **** the idea out of her head before it could become it could infect any more of her mind. She realized Adam was propped over her, a look of concern writ large on his face.

"You still with me Sam?"

She finally snapped fully back to the present, disturbing visions banished thought hardly destroyed. "To the bitter end, Adam. You don't have to lurk on top of me you know."

Adam didn't move, instead he peered her eyes, blue staring into brown, searching for something until, at last he spoke. "I really love you, Sam."

She felt a swell of emotion rise up inside her, pouring out her useless traitor eyes, as tears. She buried her head in his chest so he wouldn't have to see, but then pulled back. If Adam couldn't see her, see all of her, then who could?

He didn't laugh or brush her tears away, he just smiled and planted a tiny kiss on her forehead. Before she could ruin it again, she managed to speak.

"I really love you, too."

---

They'd been walking for hours. Kat had insisted on it. Bribing a few traffic control officers to look the other way when you landed was one thing. This was something very different. They weren't going to ask questions. They weren't going to go looking. They were going to walk, and keep their eyes and ears open. It had been decades since she'd been here with Francis, but she hadn't forgotten her lessons. Even a criminal underworld had rules, and Francis had drilled them into her head since her very first smuggling run. Most of them were simple, though with dire consequences for being broken. All the more reason to never get caught, Francis had always said. And they hadn't. They'd had a few tricks up their sleeves soon enough. Quite the paring, him the dashing smuggler, and her, the little lost street girl from a formerly wealthy family. It all seemed so harmless.

"Look at that one, Aunt Kat!" Cindi had her head craned up to stare at a housing tower, who's highest levels were hidden in the clouds. "That must take forever to reach the top!"

"It's an aviary, hun. The top third isn't accessible from the lower levels. You fly in to a private landing pad." Kat recalled her own girlhood wonder at seeing one for the first time. Nothing on Sirius Prime had seemed particularly large after that.

Much though she wished she could play mentor to her wide-eyed niece, they had a mission to attend to. And clock that was always ticking. Kat through she might have found a bit of luck. She kept her eyes on the locals, the little people and the loiterers. She watched where they were and just as important, where they avoided. Her observations led her to a salvage yard deep in the sort of neighborhood they wouldn't be comfortable in during the day, much less at night.

She leaned into her niece and told her in a low voice. "Remember. Touch nothing. Say nothing. Don't leave my side."

The dull eyed fellow behind the counter, looked her up and down with open hunger as they exchanged pleasantries. Cindi too. Kat sighed. Sometimes you had to use the weapons god gave you. And be thankful he gave you any at all. She leaned forward, putting her cleavage on display.

"What do you want?" His voice was piggish grunt. Squealing and greedy. Behind him stood a mountain of a man, as large as Adam and probably close to the same weight, but the kindness and intelligence she found so impossibly charming in her nephew were missing from this man's eyes. He was the muscle, used for **** and probably good at it.

"My husband's ship is ..." Kat paused, as if searching for the words, though she made sure her eyes never left his. "Too flashy. It attracts all the wrong sort of attention. I've heard your the kind of man who could help with that."

"Heard from who?" Piggy grunted.

"I can't recall." Kat said, her voice turned to steel.

"And I don't work with strangers."

"Then lets not remain estranged. I am Kathan." Kat's voice was firm. 'When its time to push, push with all your might, Kitty Kat'. Francis voice reminded her.

"Cage." He replied.

"Well then. Cage." Kat took as deep a breath as she could, letting her bosom heave at the jacket she wore half zipped. "Could you help out a friend with a problem?"

Cage's eyes narrowed, he wasn't drooling over her breasts now. Finally he spoke. "I could give you a new coat of paint. Something to make your ship...unrecognizable."

"What?" Cindi squawked. "We don't need a paintjob. We need-

"Quiet." Kat silenced her niece with a word and a glare. Then turned back to the pig. "Could we have an estimate?"

He sighed and leaned back, his arms resting on a ponderous belly. The figure he came up with was enough to make her eyebrows pop, but she kept her face carefully neutral. Cindi, the little fool, actually laughed.

"Really? We could buy our own ship for that!"

The mood in the room turned a few degrees colder, for anyone who was paying attention. Kat cuffed her niece on the side of the head. "Candy, darling. Wait for me outside." When Cindi looked up at her with shock and indignation warring on her face, she caught sight of her Aunt. Kat's face and tone were perfectly pleasant, but her eyes were practically screaming. "I'll be right out, darling. Don't wander."

When Cindi was gone, she turned back to Piggy. "My niece is right, of course. The price is perhaps a bit ... inflated for two friends such as we are?"

'Always negotiate, they won't take you serious if you don't.' Francis again.

"The price is the price." Piggy growled back, as intimidating as fat slug on your door frame. Probably less attractive.

"I see. I had no idea it was such a profitable commission, to repaint a whole ship." Kat mused, as if in thought. "I suppose I'll have to see if there are any others who might be willing to take on such a job. Good day, Mr. Cage." She rose to leave and was nearly to the door when he spoke.

"Wait." He grunted and named a figure ten percent lower.

'Better to walk away with something, than run away with everything.' They must have broken that particular rule a hundred times over.

"What a generous offer. Thank you Mr. Cage." Kat smiled. "I will require one more thing from you. I'd like to do some shopping while I'm here."

"Try the mall." Piggy drawled.

"I'm afraid my patronage, depends on it. But I'm sure you have a friend or two you might put me in contact with."

He didn't give her a name, not that she expected him to. Just a time and a place and a warning not to be late. Kat put more stacks of credits than she made in a year on the table, then cut the pile in half. She pushed the closer stack back into her back and walked out the door, trying not to shudder at the feel of his eyes on her as she went.

Cindi was fuming outside. Dodging pairs of eyes as well, her cheek still red. She marched up to her aunt, eyes blazing. "What the-

Kat very nearly slapped her again. Instead she drew her into a crushing hug and whispered. "Stop talking or you'll get us killed. Walk with me, don't run."

Only when they were in a crowded street, many blocks distant from the salvage yard did Kat wheel on her niece in a fury. "I gave you simple instructions, Cindi."

"You're the one who sent me outside." She whined.

"I sent you outside, because if you spooked that pig, he may have just decided to kill us on the spot. That's if he and his friends don't **** us first. He seems like the type."

"And these are the people you want changing the Invader's registry?" Cindi's incriminating shouts were swallowed by the crowd.

Kat almost laughed at her niece's naivety. "They're criminals, Cindi. Did you really think they'd be like your brother?" Her niece huffed and rolled her eyes. Kat grabbed her chin. "Your father showed this side of society when I was a little younger than you. Only I knew how to shut up and hold my tongue. These men will hurt us and rob us and kill us for any reason or none at all." Cindi jerked her head to get free, but Kat held her firm. "And if you want to help your brother find a cure for his condition, you had better do what I say. Or it won't just be Adam who needs his life saved."

---

He hated waiting. He'd spent hours stuffed in that cramped little box, they called a ship. Fucking go already. There were only two more people in front of him in line, but they seemed determined to make their inspections into marathons.

Maybe it was his own fault. He'd been reckless. Agitated. Of late. It was like something in his blood, just wouldn't come out. A burning. A hatred. Truthfully, he felt better than he had in years. Looked better too. He'd have to buy some new clothes first chance he got. Well, second chance. The local red light district was legendary for its ability to cater to any tastes, any desires. He felt himself harden inside his pants at the thought of wrapping his hands around some cute little blondes neck while he pounded her. Rumor was if you paid the necro fee, nobody cared if your brought your hooker back alive...

Only one to go now. Time to focus. He wasn't here to relax. He'd chased Adam across half of Humanities' expanse. He was going to find him. And when he did-

"Step forward sir." The automatic shotguns level at his chest, gave a bit more weight to the custom agent's words. "Please place your hand on the scanner."

She was an exotic one. All dark skin and buzzed hair, electric blue eyes to match. Too bad she wasn't walking the streets tonight. He'd pay a lot to hear her scream. She pointed to the DNA scanner. Cons didn't mess around with security. He slid his palm over the sensor.

"Length of stay?"

"A couple weeks, maybe less."

"Purpose of visit?"

'To kill that little shit and take back what's mine'. He thought. Images of blood pouring from both Carter siblings **** a low pleasurable groan from his throat.

"mmmmm. Pleasure."

"Welcome to Constantine, Mr. Martell."