Betrayal

by J. D. Cunegan

  "And why is David Gregor still alive?" Janice lowered her head, glaring at her daughter through hooded eyes as her arms unfolded with a crack and her hands curled into fists. "Why is the man singlehandedly responsible for tearing our family apart still walking free?" Each word was louder than the last, until Janice's cracking voice echoed in the ether. "Why does he get to live in a high-rise penthouse and take private jets to France while I rot in a box and your father got the needle?!"

  "It doesn't work like that!" Jill yelled. "Killing him won't solve anything!"

  "I don't remember you being so goddamn stupid." Blood poured from Janice's mouth and ran down her chin.

  Jill got in her mother's face. "And I don't remember you being such a murderous bitch."

  "I wasn't." Janice lifted her chin. "Until that bastard got a hold of Paul."

  "I know." Jill grabbed her mother's shoulders, cringing and releasing her grip when she felt the bones breaking away under her fingers. Flakes of skin and bone fell from Janice's face, and her eye sockets were completely empty. "I get it, okay? I know exactly what that man did to us, what he continues to do to me. But Mom... what you suggest? Say I do it. Say I kill Gregor. What then? Am I any better than him?"

  "You'd be better than what you are now."

  "No." Jill turned her back on Janice, if for no other reason than to stop looking at her mother literally breaking apart. "I refuse to believe that."

  "Then you are a coward." The sound of Janice's skin cracking nearly overwhelmed her shaky voice.

  "Better a coward than a murderer."

  Even as the last of her body crumbled to a floor that wasn't really there, Janice's last words haunted and echoed in Jill's head.

  "Are you sure?"

  CHAPTER 24

  When Jill finally regained consciousness, the first thing she saw was a fluorescent light flickering overhead. The glass surrounding the bulb was dirty and stained, and as her vision cleared, and her memory of what knocked her out in the first place returned, Jill frowned at her surroundings. Instead of a relatively comfortable mattress in a pristine white hospital room, an IV hooked into her hand and the latest in American medical technology monitoring her vitals, Jill saw instead a dingy warehouse. Not unlike the ones she hid out in those couple weeks she was on the run. There was an IV drip, but the dull ache in her hand told Jill hardly any care had been taken when administering the medicine.

  The ache in her chest was there, burning every time Jill drew a breath. She cringed and turned her head, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the tray of surgical equipment to her right. Blood-stained gauzes and bandages littered another silver tray, and Jill swallowed back the lump in her throat before glancing down at herself. With a small twist of her weight, Jill gasped in pain and recent stitches tugged against her skin, threatening to rip both of her wounds open again.

  Near as Jill could tell, nothing major had been damaged. Assuming the blood loss wasn't too substantial, her accelerated healing should be making quick work of the actual wounds. Of greater concern at the moment was where she was and how she wound up there.

  Whoever had snatched her up after she passed out, Jill guessed it wasn't the paramedics. Unless statewide budget cuts had been worse than advertised.

  "You're awake far sooner than I expected," a vaguely familiar voice called out from Jill's left. "Then again, that's nothing new for you, is it?"

  A rail-thin man dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit and royal purple tie emerged from a desk in the corner, adjusting the thin-frame glasses on his chiseled face. His ghost-white hair was cropped close to his scalp, and his posture was impossibly straight. He looked as if he had stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine, except for the stethoscope hanging from the back of his neck.

  "Where am I?" Jill asked, giving her surroundings another once-over.

  "You're safe," the man answered, taking the open seat to Jill's left. "And... incredibly fortunate. That blade just missed your liver. Another inch to the left and you would've lost a kidney."

  "Yeah, I'm a regular Lady Luck." Jill's hands balled into fists. She ignored the pain in the hand stuck with the IV needle, and she caught sight of black leather hanging off the back of the chair. "You with The Collective?"

  "That band of jackals?" The man removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with a white handkerchief. "No. I am merely... a concerned citizen."

  "Concerned citizen," Jill repeated. "That sounds like something someone says before they make things worse."

  "Well, I patched you up, didn't I?" He barely smiled, returning his glasses to their rightful place. "This city is in serious need of a restoration of order."

  Jill arched a brow. "He says in the presence of a costumed vigilante who, up until recently, was also a fugitive."

  "I'm afraid you misunderstand me, Miss Andersen." The man leaned forward in his seat, his hands steepled together. "I do not mean order as in the absence of chaos. There is no such animal. For there to be order, a little chaos must be tolerated. You, Miss Andersen, are that chaos."

  Jill's frown deepened. "Thanks?"

  "Chaos, left unchecked, can lead to disaster. That is what has allowed The Collective to emerge and to have pockets of support for their cause. Despite their completely abhorrent methods, there are those in this town who agree with what they are trying to do. Just as there are plenty in this town who support what you do."

  "Don't you dare equate me with those neanderthals." Jill gritted her teeth. "I am nothing like them."

  "In terms of your methods, no." That tight-lipped smile returned. "But the underlying philosophy is the same. The Collective thinks it is doing the necessary work that society refuses to... and really, isn't that what you do every time you put on that suit?"

  "I'm not a murderer."

  "I never said you were, Miss Andersen." The man stood, taking a moment to straighten his blazer before studying the IV drip. He turned the dial once to the right, increasing the dosage of whatever was streaming into Jill's veins ever so slightly. He then stuffed his hands into his pockets, pursing his lips. "If I'm being entirely honest, I've wanted to meet you for quite some time."

  "Nice to have a fan," Jill deadpanned, clutching her bedsheets and forcing herself to relax her jaw—even as a surge of pain along her side caught her off-guard.

  "Your reputation reaches a lot farther than you might think," the man continued. "In fact, I've known about you going back almost five years. You are something of a living legend in some corners of the scientific community."

  Jill averted her gaze. "You knew Dr. Roberts, then."

  "Trent was the brightest mind I ever had the privilege of knowing." The man stared off into the distance, his voice turning wistful. "A dogged researcher, relentless in testing out his latest theory... I honestly don't know how he came up with half of the ideas he did, but the depth of his work was staggering. It's such a shame that he was killed before his life's work reached its true potential."

  "You mean he wanted more out of life than turning people into breathing robots?"

  "He was intensely proud of Project Fusion," the man said with a shake of his head. "I last saw him a week and a half before his murder, and he was still boasting about you. Called you his greatest success, his life's salvation."

  "Sounds like he needed a hobby."

  "Do you know what it means to live with passion, Miss Andersen?"

  "I do." Jill tried to sit up a little straighter, but the way her stitches twisted, and her muscles burned, stopped her. "I also know that feeding that passion every hour of every day is a good way to run yourself into the ground."

  "Trent had no family. Other than me, I don't think he had any friends. I always found that surprising, because Trent was far more charming and funny than he gave himself credit for. He just never had it in himself to make those connections. For him, the science was his life. Your procedure was his greatest triumph."

  "And it ultimately got him killed."

  "Passion has always
been a double-edged sword."

  "Far be it for me to stop this lovely trip down Memory Lane," Jill said with a shake of her head, "but what's the point of all this?"

  "It is my belief that Project Fusion is still active."

  Jill frowned again. "Well... yeah. I ran into another success story a couple weeks ago."

  "I'm talking about far more than cybernetic enhancement," the man argued, leaning over Jill's bed. "The Collective has its hands in it now, and what they're after is far more disturbing than a titanium-coated skeleton or half a face made of metal."

  "Are you gonna tell me what that is, or do I have to guess?"

  The man straightened his posture again, adjusting the knot of his tie. "Reanimation, Miss Andersen. They wish to use the same technology that makes you a superhero to bring people back to life."

  CHAPTER 25

  The impeccably dressed man hadn't said much since claiming that not only was Project Fusion still active, but that its focus had moved beyond simple cybernetic enhancement. Instead, he gave Jill time and space to process the new information, busying himself instead with fixing the holes in her bodysuit. Stitching the leather back in place had been easy enough, but when he studied the armor, he couldn't keep the frown off his face.

  "This armor is pathetic," he announced with a shake of his head and a smacking of his lips reminiscent of the tsk sound Detective Stevens always made.

  "You know how much cops make in this town?" Jill shot back with a cringe. Sitting up still pulled at her wound, though not as much as hours earlier. "Not as much as you might think."

  "So many weak points," he added as if she hadn't spoken. "There's no heft to this."

  "I still need to be able to move." Jill folded her arms over her chest. "Trust me, I've worn the bulky stuff. It was so hard to move around, it's a wonder I made it in Iraq as long as I did without getting hit. I was practically moving target practice."

  "Well, at least you bother to wear armor." The man sighed. "Unlike those scantily-clad 'heroes' we see on the big screen."

  "Not that I don't appreciate you saving my ass," Jill said, "but... who are you?"

  "I'm surprised." An amused grin spread across the man's face. "I expected that question to come much sooner. I'm afraid I can't answer it right now, but... when this is all over, when you're safe, I promise I will answer that, and any other question you have."

  "I don't need to be saved." Jill gritted her teeth.

  "I appreciate the 'tough girl' act, but need I remind you, Miss Andersen, that we found you unconscious and nearly bleeding out from a stab wound in your chest?"

  "And I appreciate the help." Jill shook her head. "But as soon as I'm well again, I'm outta here and I'm gonna bring down The Collective."

  "You don't even know where you are."

  "Then tell me."

  "For your own safety, I cannot." The man shook his head. "But I can tell you... you're no longer in Baltimore."

  Pain in her chest be damned, Jill sprung out of her bed, tossing the sheets aside and grabbing the man by the lapels. She drove him back-first into the closest wall, taking far too much pleasure in the way he grunted in pain. He turned his head to the side, and she followed, intent to make sure her infrared eye and silver eyeplate were always in view. If this man was like so many others, that sight would unnerve him.

  "Where am I?!"

  Again, the man shook his head.

  Gritting her teeth, Jill slammed her right fist into the man's chin. She heard a satisfying crack as he doubled over, blood dribbling down his chin. She stood over him, catching her breath and trying to will away the burning pain, her hands still balled into fists.

  "Where am I?!"

  The man spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor, slowly getting back to his feet. He gasped when Jill wrapped a hand around his neck, slamming him against the wall again. Her grip tightened—not to choke him, but close enough to make him think she would.

  "I'm only gonna ask one more time... Where. Am I?"

  "Quantico," another voice, this one behind Jill, answered. "A secure underground facility."

  Jill turned in the direction of the voice, her frown deepening when she saw Richard McDermott emerging from around the corner. His usually smug demeanor was replaced with a serious expression, and his hands were buried in his pockets. The man never walked with his hands in his pockets. He approached the duo and straightened the knot of his tie before clearing his throat.

  "Apologies for the misdirection, Agent, but time wasn't exactly on our side."

  Jill shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

  "Castillo intercepted the 9-1-1 call from your burner phone," McDermott explained. "When the dispatcher didn't receive a response, we thought you might be in trouble. Turns out we were right."

  She turned to the man again and scowled. "You're FBI too?"

  "No." The man offered another tight-lipped smile. "I am just a doctor."

  "The doctor who patched you up," McDermott added.

  "Yeah, got that part." Jill finally released her grip, practically tossing the man aside. "My attacker was with The Collective. They have to be."

  "We're working on that." McDermott nodded toward the ceiling. "FBI proper is now on the case, and there might even be cause to bring NCIS into the mix. I just needed to get you out of the way to give you time to heal."

  Jill regarded her boss with a skeptical look. "Is that all?"

  "Oh, absolutely." McDermott chuckled and shook his head. "Look, I know we don't know each other that well, but I at least know you're the sort of person who would run head-on into danger regardless of what anyone—especially me—says. I just need to make sure you're a hundred percent healthy before you go out and get your superhero on again."

  "I hope you realize I heal a lot faster than most people."

  "We were kinda counting on that, Agent."

  Jill cocked her head in the direction of the other man. "So, who's he?"

  "He hasn't told you?" McDermott frowned and stuffed his fingers back into his pockets. "Agent, that's Dr. Sebastian Lo."

  CHAPTER 26

  So that was why the man's voice had seemed so familiar.

  Not quite three full weeks ago, a reporter from The Baltimore Sun named Stanley Erikson had approached Jill with a flash drive, explaining it contained information regarding Project Fusion—not just its history, but its continued existence. That information had ultimately led to the reporter's death, and by the time Jill had gotten around to seeing what was on the device, Dr. Lo was front-and-center. Not only was Project Fusion still alive, its focus had shifted and Dr. Lo was the one spearheading everything.

  With far more grace than she had before her own procedure, turned her back on McDermott and spun on the balls of her feet. Jill gritted her teeth as she charged toward Dr. Lo, grabbing him by the neck and shoving him up against the wall. He gasped in a combination of shock and pain, and Jill's knees wobbled. The movement had torn her stitches out, and around the burning sensation in her side, Jill could feel the blood trickling from the reopened wound.

  "Jill..." McDermott warned from over her shoulder.

  "You," Jill muttered through clenched teeth, tightening her grip on the doctor. He grabbed her wrist with both hands, but no matter how hard he tugged, it never budged.

  "Jill." McDermott's voice was as stern as Jill had heard it, but still she ignored him. After all, this had nothing to do with him.

  Inching in ever closer to Dr. Lo, Jill cocked her head just enough that her infrared eye was directly in his line of sight. Tempting as it was to turn the eye on, the resulting glare would likely render Dr. Lo blind. Still, if the thought she might activate it was enough to scare a couple answers out of the doctor, that was a card she was willing to play. "Project Fusion's still alive, alright. Because you're the one who brought it back!"

  Dr. Lo opened his mouth, but instead of words, he only managed a soft squeak. McDermott placed a soft hand on Jill's shoulder, but she brushed him aside.<
br />
  "Agent Andersen..."

  "I know all about your little scheme." Jill shook her head. "Reanimation? Toying with the dead? Was that what Trent wanted?"

  "Agent!" McDermott stepped in between Jill and Dr. Lo as best he could, though he was still jettisoned off to the side. He grabbed Jill by the forearm, managing to keep his grip even as she tried to yank free. When she turned to glare at him, McDermott stared unflinchingly right back at her. "Let him go. This isn't some snot-nosed perp in Interrogation One."

  No, he was something worse. Murder suspects were a dime a dozen, and the vast majority of them were dimwitted enough that it didn't take long to figure out what they were playing at and catch them at their own game. But people like Dr. Lo? People who operated in the shadows and kept the cogs moving along in the service of those who would circumvent the natural order of things... they were a far different beast. As much as she loathed Dr. Lo based on what she knew, she at least had to acknowledge he wouldn't have gotten this far if he hadn't been incredibly bright.

  "No, just a wannabe mad scientist." Jill let go of the doctor with a sneer, though she kept hovering over him. She actually enjoyed the way he recoiled within himself whenever he looked at her. With any luck, fear would lead to reason and answers.

  "You misunderstand," he said. "I look to stop what is being done in my friend's name."

  "Bullshit!" Jill nearly grabbed Dr. Lo again. Instead, she balled her hands into fists so tight they shook. The burning in her side had faded, though she was still weak on her feet. Adrenaline being a hell of a drug, though, she remained upright. "I've heard your tapes, Doctor. You've been talking reanimation on your own before."

  McDermott frowned at Dr. Lo, who hung his head, removed his glasses, and nodded. "It's true. But I'm not... this wasn't what Trent wanted."

  "Then why?" McDermott asked, folding his arms over his chest.

  "He only wanted to help people," Dr. Lo explained. "Make them stronger, better. Help those who had suffered catastrophic injuries regain some normality in their lives. That was the purpose behind Project Fusion."