=  In this place it seems like such a shame
       Though it all looks different now
       I know it's still the same
          ("Something I Can Never Have"; Nine Inch Nails)
 

Foxx rubbed his eyes as he leaned back into his chair. He had no great love for computers, even if he did understand the need for them. Personally, he felt that he would have been a lot happier if he could have just gone out into the streets and hoofed it, digging up the information by himself. Sitting in front of a screen for hours on end grated on his nerves, making him wish again and again for something more physical to do.

Still, he knew, even then, that aimless digging for clues and leads would have been a waste of time. Despite his personal opinion, a great deal of his work required him to use the high technology that he found so distasteful.

He moved back further into his chair, trying to distance himself from the screen as much as he could. The combat files on the SuperTrooper, Chimera, filled the entire monitor, keeping a firm hold on his attention, overriding even the urge he felt to look away for a moment. He scrolled the page up a little, going back to read a previous entry of the SuperTrooper's exploits on the field of battle.

He remembered the cold shock that had momentarily enveloped him hours earlier when he had been reading about Stingray's own combat files. For a long while, he'd gone through the records in awed horror, hoping that the entries there were simply exagerated stories. Later, he reluctantly realised that it was an empty thing to hope for. SuperTroopers never boasted vainly, especially about their abilities. They had no reason to. Nobody doubted their superiority in battle.

"Don't rub your eyes," Miles told him as she placed his coffee mug on his desk. "You'll just make them feel worse."

"Tell me something I don't know," he muttered, and reached for the hot beverage. "Thanks," he said, lifting the mug to his lips.

"Next time, you get the drinks." She looked at the monitor, and shook her head in concerned disbelief. "God, just look at that. What the hell was WolfDen thinking when they made those?"

Foxx said nothing, carefully swirling the hot coffee in his mouth before swallowing it. The heat burnt his mouth, but did much in helping him keep awake. He understood the cause of Miles' anxiety.

They had returned to HQ after saying their farewells and good lucks to Afsan at WolfDen. Walsh had had them called up to his office immediately to find out what it was that Nagata had said to them. After that, they had descended into HQ's main dataconsoles and went through repeated viewings of Parker's scan data and the security footage during her failed collar. Then they began sifting through all the files that Foxx had procured from WolfDen. What they saw did not mollify any of them in the least.

"Look at this one," Miles went on, bringing up Stingray's file and highlighting several of the entries there. "'Optical blasts of varying degrees of severity'," she read aloud. Then, calling up Chimera's; "'Limited abilities of mind control'. And this Darkstar character... 'Ability to blind an opponent at will'." She shook her head again. "This is definitely not good news for our side."

"Understatement." Foxx drew a deep breath. "I've never seen anything like this before. No 'Trooper I've ever gone up against has ever showed these kinds of...," he paused, trying to find an appropriate word, "abilities before." He ran a hand through his hair. "Why the hell didn't WolfDen notify us about this? How come the tests we did on those newborn batches didn't show them having all these abilities?"

"Maybe they didn't have any special abilities when they were being made, but they surfaced later on during their training stages, or in the field. Or maybe the tests were doctored in some way." Miles snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if that last bit were true. Corp. secrets are to be held within the Corp. after all. You know that as well as I," she said.

"Then why did Nagata allow these files to be downloaded at all?"

"I guess because now it's his rear end that's at direct risk," Miles replied, though even she didn't look too convinced at this line of reasoning. She shrugged and went on, "We shouldn't be surprised at all that the 'Troopers have these things, you know. With abilities like these, you can bet that the TAF's going to snap up every single 'Trooper and put them in the front lines. The Terran Armed Forces is happy and so are all us little people, and WolfDen makes a ton of money in the process. In the end, I guess it all just boils down to commerce."

Foxx smirked humourlessly. "Which, of course, leaves us to wonder why the TAF never bothered to let our subdivision know about this at all. Abilities like these can hardly go about unnoticed."

Miles was quiet. Then: "That point's not ours to put home. All we can do is to notify Walsh about this and let him take the next step." She sighed and transferred her gaze back to the monitor. "The only saving grace here is that Gooseman looks to be the only 'Trooper who seems normal."

"As normal as a SuperTrooper can be, you mean?"

She grinned for a moment before the serious expression returned. "Still..."

"What?"

"Nagata specified Gooseman as the main danger," she reminded him. "And in spite of what people think, the old man's never paranoid without a reason." She paused. "What are the files we have on Gooseman?"

Foxx called them up. "The usual: concept, medical, psych, combat records. But nothing on them says anything about him having any kind of extra abilities like the others."

Miles nodded, leaning back into her chair. She shut her eyes, seemingly deep in thought.

Foxx watched her silently for a moment. "Hey," he said finally, "you're beat. Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

Miles cracked open an eyelid. "Speak for yourself, Foxx," she muttered. "You look even worse than a Circadian forest roach on a sugar buzz."

Despite himself, he laughed. "Always with the compliments..." He smiled gently at her. "Let's call it a night, all right? I'm feeling tired, too."

"Damn it, Foxx," she groaned as she got to her feet. "I hate it when you treat me like a kid."

He turned off the console. "You need a ride back?" he asked.

She indicated a negative. "I can make it back on my own. Besides, I've got a brief stop along the way."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Trade secret," she said, in reply to his unspoken question.
 
 

Foxx stepped out of the elevator and headed straight for the nurses' desk. At this hour, there were only a few nurses working the station on that floor, and the two manning the desk looked inquiringly at him as he approached.

"Good evening," he greeted.

"I'm afraid visiting hours are over, sir," the younger nurse told him. "You'll have to come back tomorrow."

"I'm from the Hunter division," he told them. "I'd like to see the Hunter who was brought in some days ago."

They glanced at each other, then indicated the way to Parker's room. "That way, sir, but she's still recovering."

He nodded. "I won't take long."

Parker's body lay in an almost serene fashion, swathed in metres of delicate bandages and thick blankets. She was motionless except for the steady rise and fall of her chest. She was hooked up to what looked like several miles of tubes and cables, each one connected to some ungodly machine and device. For a moment, it almost looked as though she had sprouted metal tentacles from various parts of her body. To Foxx's discomfort, he noticed the cranial headset immediately upon entering the room. It covered more than half of her head, and had the most number of tentacular attachments out of all the devices in the room. It was an obscene sight; Parker looked like she had been transformed into a modern day gorgon in recovery.

He couldn't help feeling pity as he saw her. This was a clear contrast to Parker's usual fluidity of motion. The sight of her head, shaved, plated and so inhuman, almost made him leave at once. Clamping down on that reaction, he forced himself to go over to her bed.

After a moment, he took her hand and murmured, "You look like hell, Orlanda."

"Zach?" a synthesised voice responded. "Is that you?"

It didn't sound a bit like her, but it was Orlanda Parker who spoke through the transmitters. The console beside her bed showed a slight increase in brain activity, but otherwise, there were no other changes.

Foxx managed a smile, and pulled up a chair. "I'm right here. How've you been, kiddo?"

"I can't see, I can't move, and I think I'm hungry," she replied. "Otherwise, I'm fine."

"You seem to hear me okay."

"They hooked up a receiver to this bloody thing so I could at least pick up what they try to tell me about what's going on." A tinny snort was emitted from the speakers. "No eyes, though. I can't even watch the vids like this."

He almost laughed. "I leave Earth for a week and look at you...," he said, shaking his head.

"I was thorough!" she exclaimed. "I scanned and didn't get anything other than the guy I was after..."

"I know," he interrupted. "I went through the security vids and the scan records." Quietly, he told her of what he and Miles had found out earlier that evening. It was a strange business, he reflected. The thought of SuperTroopers possibly having the abilities to fool the police scanners like that was discomforting, to say the least.

Evidently, Parker had been thinking along the same lines, for she said, "I don't like this shit, Zach. What's WolfDen up to with this latest bunch of 'Troopers? As if their bio-defences didn't make them dangerous enough, now we got this to add to our problems."

Foxx smiled again, mirthlessly. "Protecting the League, Hunter Parker," he said, remembering Miles' reply earlier. "That's worth any price, isn't it?"

"That bull may work in the election bids, but not on me."

"I know." He sighed and leaned back, trying to relax a little.

They were silent for a while.

"Zach...?"

"What is it?"

"You're hunting the rogues now, right?" There wasn't any need to specify which rogues she was referring to.

He nodded, then remembered that she couldn't see it. "Yeah."

"Can you handle it?"

He smiled crookedly. "Piece of cake," he assured her. "Miles is with me on this one."

"Miles?" She sounded surprised. "Is she here now?"

"No."

Parker was quiet for a minute or two. Then, "I wish I was out there to back you up."

"Hey, I've got Miles the Golden Kid with me," he quipped. "Don't worry about a thing."

"She's been in the Hunters longer than I have and you're still treating her like a rookie sometimes...," her synthesised voice muttered in a surprisingly good imitation of amusement. In a more serious tone, she said, "I miss working with you, you know."

"Yeah," he said softly.

"Take care of yourself. This one's going to be a real killer."

"I'll be all right," he assured her. Hesitantly, he got to his feet. "Listen, I can't stay for long. I have to get going."

If there was ever a time when a synthesised voice could sound disappointed, it would be now. "You sure?" she asked, plaintively. "It's boring having to lie down all day."

He laughed out loud, this time. "Hang in there, Orlanda. It's just for a while longer until the doctors get the replacement tissues to grow on their own." He paused. "Tell you what: I'll treat you to a good lunch when you're back on your feet."

"It'd better be a good lunch," she grumbled. "You already owe me a breakfast from two months ago."

He shook his head. "Quit living in the past, Orlanda."

"Good one, coming from you."

He sobered, remembering Aliza's message.

Parker was immediately abashed. "I'm sorry, Zach. I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

He took her hand again, but held it awkwardly for a moment before letting go. "I know."

*****

Decrepit. That seemed to be the only way to nicely sum the building up.

Chimera almost smiled at that.

It stood in ominous silence, looming over the remainder of the block with its sombre, plain design. The walls, long stripped of their protective coatings, were now veritable breeding grounds for all sorts of building fungi. Most of the windows looked to be closed, sealed, or boarded up. It wasn't the tallest building around, being only twelve storeys in height, but it seemed to hold its own agianst the others in some strange, unexplainable way.

It's somehow hard to imagine WolfDen's chief genetic designer as a tenant there, Chimera mused. Leaving WolfDen's executive apartment blocks and being reduced to living in a place like this, it's no wonder Sawyer's wife took their kid and blasted off for Luna without him. Aloud, she said, "There's nothing fancy in there we have to worry about. I did a rudimentary scan and took a quick check the other day. All I found were a couple of old security cameras here and there."

Darkstar frowned slightly. "This is too inviting, Chimera," she muttered.

The older 'Trooper leaned back against the wall. "I know. But... Gooseman's orders and all, we still have to get in there whether there is a surprise security feature lying in wait somewhere..."

"... or just nothing else?" Darkstar finished for her.

Chimera nodded. At Darkstar's soft sigh, she took a good, long look at her companion. "What's wrong?"

"I can't wait for this to end," Darkstar replied.

Chimera snorted. "It'll end when it ends, 'Star. Don't get impatient."

The younger shook her head. "I'm not. I just want it to finish."

Chimera gave a slow hiss, a sound Darkstar readily recognised as an indication of faint disapproval. "You're getting soft, 'Star. All these weeks of playing human's beginning to wear you out."

"I've been playing human for as long as you have, Chimera," Darkstar retorted sharply, "so what makes you more of a SuperTrooper now than me?"

Baring her teeth in a mockery of a smile, Chimera said, "Because I've been keeping in practice, little sister."

"What does that mean?"

"Exactly what it means," Chimera replied. "Being a SuperTrooper and not pretending to be anything less."

Darkstar, quiet for several moments, looked to her comrade with an unreadable expression. "You sounded like 'Ray," she finally said.

"Heh," Chimera chuckled. "If you weren't my beloved sibling, I'd have taken that comparison as a deadly insult."

Darkstar didn't look so amused. "You don't really believe what 'Ray thinks, do you?"

Chimera shrugged. "Who cares? I'm here, aren't I?"

"There's more to this than just being here, Chimera," Darkstar started to say when the other 'Trooper waved her to silence. "What?" she whispered.

Indicating to an approaching vehicle out on the streets, Chimera stepped back to press further into the shadows, watching it like a hawk. Darkstar followed her example almost instantly.

"Sawyer?" Darkstar asked softly.

Chimera nodded.

They watched quietly as a private vehicle pulled up alongside the building opposite them. Moments later, the door opened and a man got out, holding a breifcase over his head and stooping to avoid getting too wet from the ever-present rain. As he shuffled slowly toward the front entrance, Darkstar moved stealthily from her place to cross the street, pausing when she reached the walls of the building. Most of the lights in that part of the city were out and maintenance was definitely not a high priority around there, so she had plenty of handy dark niches to secret herself into.

Sawyer stopped at the doors for a bit, muttering and groping with his briefcase. He seemed to be oblivious to her presence. As he fumbled with his keycards, she was able to catch a glimpse of his face.

He looked older than she'd thought he'd be. His full head of white hair and a demeanour of utter weariness made him seem more venerable than a man his age should normally be. Still, from what she had seen of his movements, his body was not quite as frail as his appearance suggested. He didn't move like he was in excellent shape, but he was fit.

Not that he could ever be a match for any of us, she thought. She gave one quick glance to Chimera, who remained unseen and unmoving across the street, then made her move.

"Max Sawyer," Darkstar said, stepping out from the shadows.

Sawyer froze and slowly turned around. He took a good, long look at his sudden companion before finally giving her a nod.

"I've been waiting a long time to meet you," Darkstar went on, coming closer.

He smiled briefly. "I'm sure you have," he said.

"You know who I am?"

He shook his head. "I know what you are," he corrected. "And anyone can easily guess what it is you've been wanting to see me about." He tilted his head slightly to one side, a tiny gesture of curiousity. "I don't like inviting strangers to my home."

The SuperTrooper couldn't help allowing herself a little bit of amusement. "Darkstar," she introduced herself.

"Hardly a common name," he remarked, turning to the locked doors once more.

"It's what they call me," she said dismissively, "and I have no reason to dislike the name."

She could hear him chuckle briefly as he opened the entrance to the old building. "I'm sure they have good reason to give it to you in the first place. Maybe you'll tell me the story behind the name, afterwards." Turning to her, her bowed slightly. "My home is yours," he said, gesturing her inside.

Returning his bow, she strode in.

As the echoes of their footseps slowly faded, Chimera pulled away from her hiding place and walked down the soaked and empty streets.

* * * * *