Official Report

Dominique's

New Hebron, California

Sapphira bit his lip and cast his eyes about the restaurant. His cheeks burned as a fellow on the other side of the room met his gaze and smiled. He averted his eyes and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Amelia making her way back toward their table. He wanted to bolt, already regretting his choice, but knowing if he backed out now, he'd lose a chance to sink his teeth in a nice juicy steak.

Two days passed since they'd retrieved his belongings from his old apartment and he couldn't shake the feeling he'd betrayed his wife and daughter by giving so many of their former possessions away. He had little choice. He was relying on AEGIS to transition into his new life and without them he would find it difficult to move forward. They had certain conditions for giving their aid and dictating what sort of items they allowed him to keep. It was another way to ensure their control.

In turth, it wasn't feasible for him to keep much of it. Amelia had limited space in her home to spare. He'd kept a few keepsakes and photo albums. They would either toss the rest, give it to Hailey or put it up to auction and sold in an estate sale. They would return the proceeds of to him, minus all the auction fees, transportation costs and AEGIS' cut.

The whole ordeal left him feeling as if everything his life were spiraling out of his control and his current predicament did nothing to help.

He glanced down, his cheeks burning anew as he looked down into the plunging neckline of his dress. The location had been Amelia's idea and to say it had surprised him was an understatement. Dominique's was well beyond the price range Amelia specified when they'd first struck their little bargain.

She'd tacked on another price and it had been a doozy, at least, in his eyes. He must wear an outfit suitable to the locale, the ridiculous dress that seemed to reveal every little curve. When she divulged this new stipulation, he almost turned her down flat, but when she looked at him with the big hazel eyes he couldn't bring himself to tell her no.

He'd spent every moment since slipping the damn thing on, regretting that decision. She hadn't yet pushed him to get his ears pierced, or wear cosmetics, but she did persuade him to get a haircut. Though he'd resisted the idea at first, his hair was a little ragged and he kept hearing his mother's voice in the back of his head lecturing him about grooming and hygiene. So he relented and submitted himself yet another assault against his dwindling masculinity. He felt as if he'd sold the final few bits of his manhood for a damn slab of meat.

His dress was skin-tight and displayed a helluva lot of cleavage, a cheaper version of the sort a celebrity whore might wear on the red carpet. He thought for sure his breasts might pop out of the little thing, but somehow they remained in place. When he brought his hand up to slip a lock of hair back behind his ear, he paused, and let out a long sigh. Why hadn't he gotten his hair cut short?

He'd grown up in an age when men wore short hair and women kept theirs long. He hadn't even given the idea much thought, so accustomed to the gender norms under which his parents had raised him, but he'd spent almost every moment since rethinking that notion. Why should he have long hair? He was a man... where it counted.

Deep in thought, he watched the agent move way from him and toward the restrooms. She wore a red number, that wasn't as revealing as his outfit, but which helped show off her slender form. Not a curvaceous woman, her professional attire did little to show off her figure, but her little dress helped accentuate what little she had. It must have worked he couldn't take his eyes off her. That's probably why he didn't take notice of the man as he approached.

It wasn't until his shadow loomed over the table that Sapphira took notice. He damn near jumped out of his skin and let out a startled gasp as he stared up at the newcomer.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he glanced down at Sapphira scratching the bag of his neck and slipping into the seat opposite him.

"Waddya, want?" Sapphira folded his arms across his chest, his cheeks burning anew as he looked up at the newcomer. The same fellow who'd smiled at him from across the restaurant a few moments ago.

"I saw you sitting here by yourself and I thought I'd come over and introduce myself. I couldn't believe a woman as beautiful as you would be here all by yourself."

"That's because I'm not." He answered back between gritted teeth.

"That explains it," he smiled. "I'm Jerry. What's--"

Sapphira leaned forward, and pounded his fist down onto the table harder than he'd intended, but not enough to cause damage. "I will only say this once, I don't date men and if I did it wouldn't be a fair-haired jiggaboo lovin' nancy boy with jungle fever. So why don't you get the hell away from me before I punch your skinny little ass in the face."

Jerry's eyebrows shot way up and he leaned back in his seat, mouth agape. "Um, what?"

"You heard me."

"Right, well, I'm not sure what the hell just happened, but I know when to throw in the towel." He threw his hands up on the table, stood up and walked away, all the while glancing back toward Sapphire and shaking his head.

Sapphira couldn't be sure, but he might have heard the fellow mutter 'crazy bitch' under his breath as he moved away. He sat there, observing him for several long seconds, both fists clenched atop the table, only averting his gaze when Amelia returned slipping into the seat Jerry had just vacated.

"Everything all right?"

Sapphira shook his head and let out a long sigh. "Bastard thought he'd put the charms on me."

Amelia craned her neck around, following his gaze, and slipped a hand over her companion's. "Well, he is cute."

Sapphira bit his lip, cleared his throat and grabbed a menu from off the table, unwilling to dignify her statement with a response.

"Cute? He ain't my type."

"Well, you better get used to it. With your looks, a lot of guys will be barking up your tree."

Sapphira scowled, but didn't say another word, opting instead to look over the menu. He knew the agent was right, but the whole encounter with that Nancy boy had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Confused enough, he didn't need every horn dog skirt-chaser putting charms on him every time he stepped outside.

Their waiter came by to take their order and Sapphira damn near salivating over the prospect of a good steak dinner soon forgot about his discomfort. When the waiter returned with their meals, he was already loosening up. That might have had something to do with the drinks.

Far lighter as a woman as he had been as a man, it didn't occur to him he'd get tipsy after a single drink. By the time he realized what happened he'd become too inebriated to care. Regret would come later.

It was clear to Sapphira, even drunk, that he had incurred Agent Van den Broeke's displeasure, but as much as he strained his alcohol muddled mind the why was lost to him.

Amelia didn't say a word, but rather folded her arms across her chest and gazed upon the other exemplar as he staggered through the parking lot. She watched him zigzag a dozen feet, dropped her arms and with a shake of her head grabbed him by the shoulders and guided him toward her car.

She unlocked it with the key fob and Sapphira burst into a fit of laughter. "Such a cute little car, Amy. Did I ever tell you it was cute?"

"No, I really don't think so." Amelia opened the passenger side door and motioned for the other exemplar to climb inside, but the other didn't respond as expected. He smiled at her, closed his eyes and stumbled forward, collapsing into her arms. Before the agent could protest, Sapphira's warm lips locked around hers.

Amelia shocked and repulsed by this contact pulled back, stumbling back from Sapphira before falling onto her rear end. She'd known about the other exemplar's little crush for some time. It obvious enough from the looks Sapphira gave her from time to time, but their empathic bond assured that there could be no doubt in her mind. She had never expected Sapphira to act on her feelings, given his personality profile, but then again she had never expected him to get drunk.

She let out a soft laugh under her breath, struck by the absurdity of the entire situation and shook her head. When she climbed back to her feet, she found that Sapphira had passed out and collapsed into the car door opening.

She let out a long sigh of relief, glad that the other exemplar seemed to have developed such a low tolerance for alcohol post-transformation and grunted as she wrap her arms around Sapphira's shoulders and guided his unconscious form the rest of the way into the vehicle. His body shifted and fell inside and his forward momentum pulled Amelia in along with him. Amy gasped, as her head bounced into his chest and landed in his lap.

The agent grunted, her cheeks burning as she jerked back and hit the back of her head on the door frame. She cursed, rubbing the spot with her palm and ducked out of the opening. She slammed the door shut, gritted her teeth and walked around to the other side of the car.

Once inside, she glanced at Sapphira and placed both hands on the steering wheel. She sighed, bowed her head and bit her lip before she put the key into the ignition, started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

She stopped at the first light she came to when it turned red and once again glanced toward Sapphira. AEGIS frowned on fraternization between transition specialists and their charges for good reasons. They trained specialists to report situations like that which occurred, but if the agency determined that Sapphira's infatuation with her might compromise her effectiveness then her superior would assign a new transition specialist.

Her superiors were right to distrust her empathic bond to the other exemplar. If she couldn't convince them she wasn't being influence, they would never put her back into the field as an agent. The only way to prove herself was to reform Sapphira Scott.

It was ironic that she should would be so eager to get back into the thick of things when she had resisted becoming an agent. Now, she couldn't picture her life any other way.

She glanced at Sapphira still unconscious in his seat and bit her lip again. There was the whole matter of Chemosh. He was still out there and still a threat. If her instinct were right about Sapphira being the key to defeating him, then she intended to stick to him like glue.

The light turned green, and she sped through the intersection and turned right a few minutes later. Her home was a few miles away, and she was eager get back. She hoped she could wake Sapphira up once they got there. The prospect of attempting to lug his unconscious form into the house was not one that appealed to her and she lacked the upper body strength to even make the attempt. The neighbors might get the wrong idea if they saw her dragging him inside the building.

She let out a soft chuckle, imagining that detestable old judgmental hag across the street, Mrs. Steenburg peeking through the blinds and watching her maneuver Sapphira's limp form into the house. The woman would jump to the wrong conclusion and call emergency services. She'd just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

She turned the corner, about a block away from the house and stopped the car. Flashing lights lit up the entire street, both from the assortment of emergency vehicles and a flickering fire consuming a nearby apartment complex.

Given that the sky was dark and most of the surrounding buildings dwarfed the one on fire, was it any wonder she hadn't caught sight of it until that moment? The street was in an older part of town and so narrow it only allowed one way traffic, the emergency vehicles blocked the way through.

With a long sigh, she pulled to the side of the road and studied the fire. She wanted nothing more to return home and hit the sack, but her instinct told her it would be a mistake. A fire wasn't within AEGIS jurisdiction, but Amelia's gut was screaming at her to do something.

Amelia never questioned her instincts, but this time, it gave her pause, what possible reason would it be necessary for her to be present?

There was only one way to find out. She sighed, again, gritted her teeth and exited the vehicle. Amy pulled her coat close, shivered, and approached the apartment building. She felt more heat from the flames the closer she got, but it was cold enough out she kept her coat zipped.

An officer stepped forward to block her approach, hands held up in warning. She stopped, slipped a hand into her coat pocket and produced her badge. "It's all right, I'm Agent Van den Broeke with AEGIS, I was just wondering if--"

"This is a garden variety fire agent, we'll call you if we find any vampires or little green men in the rubble."

Amelia grimaced, shook her head and let out a long sigh. Because AEGIS dealt with any crimes deemed out of the ordinary, they sometimes ended up chasing the shadows of certain non-existent paranormal entities, like vampires and little green men. This often resulted in agents becoming the brunt of jokes at the hands of other law enforcement professionals.

Amelia bit her lips and slipped her badge back into her coat and glanced back over her shoulder toward her car.

"You know what, never mind, have a good evening officer," she said offering a much more cordial response than he deserved.

He didn't respond, but rather scowled at her as she turned away and started back toward her car. She sensed Sapphira through the bond, now awake, and more alert than she would expect. She couldn't see Sapphira had disappeared from the passenger seat until she was within a few feet of the car and by then it was too late.

"Shit," she cursed and spun around just in time to see a figure, clothed in red shoot past the local PD and firefighters and rush into the apartment building.

"Goddamnit," she cursed again and slipped a hand inside her pocket to retrieve her cellphone. It was better if she reported it herself if Steenburg or Matthews found out through the news there would be hell to pay.

She was not looking forward to explaining this to her superiors.

Sapphira came awake with a start, heart hammering inside his chest as he cast his wide eyes about. He was inside Agent Van den Broeke's car, but his memory of the night was murky. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

He recalled having a few drinks and getting drunk. He even had vague recollections of stumbling out of the restaurant with an irritated Amelia, but how he had gotten into the car was another matter. Cupping his face and messaging his temples Sapphira let out a long groan as memories of the sloppy kiss he'd stolen from the agent rose to the surface unbidden. His stomach seized up, not because he found her repulsive, but because he feared what that kiss might mean.

When he saw the time, displayed on the car stereo he bit his lip. He had never sobered up so fast in his life. He'd been drunk enough times to realize that much, but what if this was the work of his 'increased healing factor', as the technician had called it? Perhaps, his exemplar body had purged the effects of the alcohol from his system.

As his mind sharpened into focus, his vision took in more than just the interior of Amy's little hybrid. A fire consumed a run down looking apartment building, a firetruck and other emergency vehicles surrounded it and blocked the street beyond. It didn't take him long to spot the agent moving toward the emergency responders.

He heard screams. They didn't seem to come from outside, but rather out of the open air. He bowed his head as a wave of pure unfiltered emotion washed over him. Terror. It was so palpable he was certain he could reach out and touch it, but it wasn't coming from Amelia.

She was there too, but all he could sense from her was a general sense of wary doubt. He knew without being told where the wave of fear was emanating. The flames had trapped someone in the burning building. It was a child.

He reached out with his mind, and discerned that she was shivering in fear concealed under her bed. Her lungs burned as the smoke from the fire surrounded her and he sensed that the flames would soon consume her. The men and women fighting the fire without, but he feared they would be too late.

He opened the car door and was out and running toward the building with a speed he never would have been able to accomplish in his old body even in the prime of his life. He paid no mind to the rescue workers as he whizzed past them. Had he taken a moment to be looked down at himself, he would have noticed that his dress had vanished and he now wore the same accruements he'd worn when fighting Kwrump. He did, however, notice that his hair had changed color again, at it whipped around his face.

Bursting through the main entrance to the apartment building, the heat of the flames kissed his cheeks and the sting of smoke his eyes. He stopped and held his hand up to shield his face. He saw no clear path through the flames. Sapphira's bit his lip, and he craned his neck his mind racing to find a solution. His flesh was just as vulnerable to flames as any other human. Though he might heal faster in his new body, it wouldn't do him much good if burnt to a crisp.

He hunched over, one hand against a small portion of wall untouched by fire, and groaned as a high-pitched wail permeated the empty air around him. It was the child again, her terror had grown. His lungs burned. He coughed, overwhelmed by the child's panic, ready to flee the building, but stopped himself. The pain faded and he looked around, realizing that it wasn't his own lungs that were the source of the problem, but the child's. It seemed, that it wasn't just her fright or her cries for help that were being projected into his mind.

She wouldn't last much longer.

Gritting his teeth, he held both hands out and furrowed his brows. He didn't know if it was possible, but he was running out of options. As he stood there, deep in concentration, his awareness expand outward. The heat from the fire consumed damn-near everything, the wood, the paint, even the wiring and light fixture. The drywall was the only thing that seemed to resist, but it wasn't immune.

He could have spent hours examining every little detail. There was a world of awareness he had never experienced before. He sensed every grain in the wood, every little kink in the wiring and every little flaw in the building's construction, even those that would have been undetectable to normal human senses.

He reached out with his mind, focusing on the wall in his intended path and pushed the oxygen away from the burning flames. It worked. The fire died down in seconds. He threw his hand out blasting a hole through the already damaged wall with a single telekinetic wave and rushed through. Gritting his teeth, he groaned when his arms scraped against a jagged piece of drywall, but didn't let that stop him.

When he made his way through, he found himself in a long hallway lined with doors, as he would expect of any apartment building, but it surprised him that the hallway was so intact. If the state of foyer had been any indication, he was certain the corridor would have been in a similar condition.

He didn't reflect on it, but rather continued forward. He knew where he must go, he knew where the child had hidden herself and which direction he needed to go to reach her. About midway he looked up, noting that the flames were eating at the ceiling and surrounding walls. His expanded senses told him what he had already determined would happen, the ceiling above him was loosing structural stability. It would collapse any moment.

He picked up speed intent on getting to the girl, but before he made it another half a dozen feet, he sensed the ceiling give way above him. He picked up speed, but it was already too late. The whole thing came down with explosive force. He dove forward, but the attempt proved to be futile and he was buried under the rubble.

Official Report

1233 N Washington St.

New Hebron, California

It was dark. He was looking at his hands. Man hands. Unlined, un-aged. The hands of someone in his prime. They looked wrong. He hadn't looked into those hands for many years.

He heard a voice, laughter, disjointed, uneven. Cold shivers down his spine.

He looked around. Nothing. Only blackness.

He called out. More laughter. He sensed a presence. Darker than the darkness, emptier than the emptiness. It called to him. It wanted everything and nothing. Though indistinct, he understood. He screamed out. His voice echoed into the nothing.

A figure stepped out from thin air. A man, unassuming. Middle-eastern. Perhaps.

He smiled slipped his hands into his suit pockets and Sapphira took a step back. The man was darkness personified. Everett shivered and met his gaze. He blinked and when his eyes snapped back open, the man's face was within inches of his own. He tried to flee, but the darkness had frozen his feet in place.

The man smiled.

Once jumbled and muddled, the world snapped into focus and Sapphira bit his lip, shaking with terror certain he was looking into the face of the devil himself. The stranger turned away, walking in a straight line away from the other.

His clothing hung over him, never touching his skin, and he was attired in a cloud. One that was blacker than the night. It was the darkness, Sapphira realized with a start, he was wearing it, as another man would wear an article of clothing. He didn't know what it meant, but whoever or whatever the man was, Sapphira had no doubts, that he was dangerous.

"Everett Howard," the man spun back around on the balls of his too-dark shoes and met Sapphira's gaze. "My, my, my what a number Ashtar has done on you."

Sapphira glanced down at those hands, they were the ones with which he'd grown accustomed. Thin, long delicate, and dark. He slid them up to his breasts and scowled back at the dark stranger. "This isn't me."

"Sapphira Olivia Scott, this is the name you're using now, isn't it? You certainly look the part."

He stared at the stranger, feet still to the ground his stomach sinking. This man, there was something familiar about him, something...

It came to him all at once, and it was so very obvious he was ashamed he hadn't realized it until that moment. His stomach fluttered, and he could feel his insides twisting and turning.

"Chemosh," he whispered the name, but in this place it resounded through the emptiness as if he had yelled it at the top of his lungs.

The man smiled, slipped both hands into his suit pockets and let out a low throaty chuckle. "Very good, Liv."

"What do you want?" Sapphira asked both hands clenched at his sides, grunting and heaving as he fought against whatever force was holding his legs in place.

Chemosh, drew close, so close that his lips were almost touching Sapphira's and ran the back of his index finger down Sapphira's cheek. "You should be asking yourself, 'What do I want?' Your life, as you know it, has ended. AEGIS has given you a new one and a new identity to go with it, but at what price? They dictate who and what you are to become. I know them, I understand how they operate. All they need is to dangle the right strings in front of your face and..." He paused his hand sliding over Sapphira's lips. "They've got another puppet. I've come to give you an alternative."

"And that is?" Sapphira's voice cracked, he trembled and stood there shaking his head.

"Choice. All I ask, is that you stand back. When this is all over, I can help you find a form more fitting to your tastes or–" He leaned him locking his lips around Sapphira's.

He wanted to fight, to throw his hands up and push him away, but even his arms, it seemed, had failed him. Chemosh broke away, but kept close. Breathing into the other's face and smiling as he spoke. "I can give you everything you ever dreamed of, revenge to those who have wronged you, and I will even help you cleanse this world of those who you deem unfit. Help me regain physical form, and we could be as brothers or, you it suits you better, become my queen. You decide."

Sapphira swallowed, his daughter's final screams echoing in his mind. He gritted his teeth, tears streaming down his face as his mind raced. A very big part of him wanted to take Chemosh up on his offer. He had no doubts, of the terrible things of which this being was capable, but did he have what it took to join in? He would be no one's queen, least of all this creature, but if he had been dreaming of revenge for decades. Could he let the opportunity pass him by?

He thought of his granddaughter, so full of potential a whole life ahead of her, and Agent Van den Broeke, so tough and yet so vulnerable at the same time. He didn't like the thought of either woman coming to harm. If he accepted Chemosh's offer what would become of them?

Chemosh's form bent and contorted, his body shifting and changing, becoming more curvaceous and less masculine. The woman that took his place had Agent van den Broeke's face, but with a body on par with the likes of Marilyn Monroe or Elizabeth Taylor. She was breathtaking "Then again, perhaps you'd prefer it the other way around. I have been so long without a form of my own, I'm not too picky what I look like. I find the sensual pleasures of the fairer sex to be far more preferable. Perhaps, a female form would be more desirable."

She smiled, and backed away, her hips swaying. She turned back after about a dozen steps a wry smile touching the corner of her lips. There was something so alien about that expression as if it didn't belong on the agent's face. This incarnation of Amelia, or rather Chemosh, oozed sex and femininity. Sapphira licked his lips, he wanted her more than life itself, and yet somehow he kept himself from acting on those impulses.

"I'll leave you to your silly little rescue attempt. We can talk later." Chemosh faded into the darkness and Sapphira soon followed.

Official Report

1233 N Washington St.

New Hebron, California

Sapphira coughed and looked about feeling the heat of the fire around him even before his vision cleared enough to distinguish it. When he tried to move, he found the debris had pinned him down. He reached out with his mind and his awareness of the surrounding walls flared back to life. Though he didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, it must not have been more than a few seconds.

He spent no time muddling over his vision, or dream or whatever the hell it had been. Though he wasn't even sure it had been real, at the moment it was pretty much at the bottom of his list of priorities.

He grunted and pushed himself up, but even his enhanced strength was not enough to free him. Collapsing back into place, he smashed a fist down to the ground shattering a chunk of fallen sheet rock and sending shooting pains through his arm. He growled, and attempted to push the debris that had buried him away with his mind, but nothing happened.

Sapphira cursed under his breath attempting to shift his body and squirm out using nothing but his physical strength, but even that proved to be impossible. He was trapped.

"Goddamnit," he cursed between gritted teeth.

He coughed and something stung his eyes. Smoke was building up in the narrow corridor and it was getting harder to breathe. He had to try something before it was too late.

He closed his eyes and pursed his lips reaching out to the child still hiding in the room beyond. She quivered in fear, still alive, but not for much longer. Sapphira needed to act. He clenched his fists and concentrated on the child. If he couldn't free himself perhaps there was a way he might at least help her.

At first nothing seemed to happen, but then his awareness of his surroundings fade away. When he opened his eyes again, he appeared to be in another part of the apartment building, but he could feel the weight of the debris on his body. He knew, perhaps through some extension of his ability, that he his form was being projected into the room, but that's not to say he understood how or why.

There was a whimper, and all at once he understood. He cast his eyes around the room, looking for the source, but saw nothing. The room belonged to a young girl, fire had engulfed most of the walls, but he imagined that the occupant had covered it in bright-colored posters of boy bands and other pop stars. It would have gone well with the bright pink princess bedding and frilly decor.

It came again, this time it seemed to originate from the bed itself. He dropped his knees and leaned down to peer under it and sure enough there she was.

She didn't react to his presence, but rather lay there, her whole body trembling, huddled beneath the bed with tear-stained cheeks. She couldn't have been much older than eight or nine and the thought she might not make it out of the building tore him up inside.

"Sweet thing," he called out and winced. He'd called his daughter that when she'd been around that age. The girl's eyes snapped open, and she stared at him with a pair of startling green eyes. She didn't speak, but slunk back closer toward the wall.

"Honey," he smiled and held his hand out. "You can't stay under there. It's not safe."

The girl stayed in place. He bowed his head, let out a long sigh and looked back up meeting her gaze. "Please, come out. I promise, I won't hurt you."

He didn't know what convinced her, but when she crawled out, she looked up staring into Sapphira's eyes. "Are you a super hero?"

"Something like that. Listen, honey, you need to get out of this room. If you can make it out to the hallway, I cleared a path and you should be able to get out." He reached out to touch her shoulders, but he let out a growl of frustration when his hands passed right through her. Although, the ceiling had collapsed, it was still her best bet. He'd already made a path into the hotel and if the fire hadn't consumed it, it would be the most direct route out. She could climb over the debris in the corridor, but more than that perhaps he hoped she would help free him.

The girl didn't move, but stared at him with those big beautiful eyes. "I'm not here. I'd love to help, but I'm just a projection. Please, honey."

This time he reached out with his mind, attempting to press upon her the urgency of what he was telling her and with a suddenness that startled him the girl gasped and took off running right through him.

He looked around the room before a sharp burst of pain in his chest and he watched his surrounding's blur and fade around him.

When he found himself in the corridor again, it was only to discover that his situation had gotten worse. More debris had collapsed atop him and the left side of body was throbbing in agony. Under other conditions he might have sensed the extend of his injuries, but again his abilities failed him.

He tried again, to free his body, both by mundane means and with his telekinesis, but he couldn't muster the strength necessary nor invoke his powers. He waited for the girl to come still clinging to the hope she might free him by shifting around some debris, but either she'd found other means of escape or the fire had trapped her.

And so he lay there, waiting for his end to come. Despite what Ashtar had done to him and his desire to see his wife and daughter again, he found, that he did not welcome death. He didn't seem to have much choice in the matter.

He saw no hope for rescue, and so he clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the end to come. It wd have been worth it if he'd known if the girl had escaped alive.

"Well, fuck, you seem to have gotten yourself into quite the predicament." A disembodied voice said from out of nothingness.

Sapphira's eyes snapped back open, and he looked up at a tall figure. At first, he thought for certain Chemosh had come to tempt him once more, but as he squinted through the smoke and the man drew closer, he realized he was wrong.

The newcomer wore a black jumpsuit crisscrossed with dark-gray tribal symbols which would have been indistinguishable from the dark fabric of the suit from far off. He wore a matching mask that covered almost all of his face save for the area around his mouth and which bore a similar set of symbols around the eyes holes. If the tribal markings were a clue, but the shade of the man's skin which showed through the eye and mouth hole, confirmed that he was of African decent.

Sapphira recoiled, as the man knelt down and extended a hand toward him. Certain, he was under attack, but then an odd thing happened. The man's hand shifted clean through the debris and clasped around one of his wrists. For a second he thought he was looking upon a ghost or some other specter. He'd never heard of a living being able to move through solid matter, but that didn't explain how he felt the man's touch.

His rescuer reached out with his second hand and again his flesh shifted through fallen fragments of wall and ceiling, but instead of wrapping it around his wrist he reached around the other's back and gripped Sapphira's shoulder. Before Sapphira could protest, the man pulled him out, his whole body shifting through the debris like his new friend.

Once free, the stranger pulled him close holding him in his arms. He stood there, his whole body throbbing in pain staring into the stranger's eyes mouth hanging agape. Though their contact was brief, lasting only the briefest of seconds, he noticed the other exemplar's well-toned physique, and how his soft breasts pressed into it. It was a physical response, one his female body fueled. He experienced desire, and it terrified him.

Before he could process it, the newcomer grinned and pulled away, but kept ahold of Sapphira's wrist. "Another time, perhaps? In the meantime why don't we get out of here?"

Sapphira didn't answer, but rather gritted his teeth and nodded, shaking away the insane thoughts running through his head, but instead of fleeing to safety he paused. Wasn't there something he was forgetting?

He wasn't clear headed, which was, to an extent, from all the smoke he'd inhaled, but it might have also something to with his injuries. He looked down, the debris had torn his costume to shreds and in several places he saw blood dribbling down his body. It should have been impossible, it was, after all just a projection, but then realized the dress he was wearing must be what had neem torn. He had lost more than a little blood. His head was throbbing, and it was getting difficult to think straight, but somehow he remembered.

"The little girl?" He asked his unnamed rescuer.

He smiled again, "Little blond girl, green eyes? I've already helped her escape. You need to come with me. Now."

Sapphira didn't need to be told twice. He didn't trust his new friend and suspected that his motives were less than gallant. His lot only wanted one thing. He didn't take the time to articulate his view points. The will to survive was just a little more important.

As he suspected the other exemplar lead him forward and straight through the north wall. He clenched his eyes shut, too unnerved for his mind to accept what he had devised would come next and gasped when his whole body seemed to come under a strange tingling pressure. He didn't open his eyes again until the sensation faded and a cool breeze touched his cheeks.

Once outside he exhaled, not even aware he'd been holding his breath and froze as he got his first look around. A dozen police stood along the exterior of the building, and every single one of them had their guns trained on them.

"Well," Sapphira's mysterious rescuer glanced sideways at her, grinned and extended his middle finger at the cops giving them the bird. "I believe that's my cue. Sorry, I couldn't stick around a little longer."

When his new friend disentangled himself from Sapphira, he stumbled forward and collapse atop the hood of a police car. He threw his hands out at the last minute, preventing himself from slamming his face against its hard metal. He gritted his teeth and craned his neck around just in time to see the other exemplar sink into the ground as if he were a fish swimming through water.

"Stand down!" A voice called out and Agent Van den Broeke appeared from amongst the cluster of officers holding up her badge. "She's with me."

Sapphira winced at her use of a female pronoun, but offered no protest. As far as anyone else was concerned it was a more than an accurate description.

One by one the policemen complied to the Agent's demand. Amelia stepped forward, only offering them a cursory glance before turning all her attention to her charge.

"How bad is it?" Amelia asked folding her arms across her chest and shook her head.

"It hurts... a lot," he said between gritted teeth and emitted a long moan. "But I think I'll live."

"In that case, perhaps you would explain what the hell you were thinking! Do you have any idea how dangerous what you did was? You might have gotten yourself killed," she said between gritted teeth. She wasn't yelling, but Sapphira was almost positive that was only because there was an audience.

"I-I'm sorry," he mumbled under his breath and bowed his head. "I heard a little girl crying out for help and I couldn't sit by and do nothing."

Amelia eyed the other exemplar, then glanced back at the cadre of police officer's who already dispersed and nodded. "Katie Brown. AEGIS has been aware of her abilities for some time. It was lucky for her she was able to connect with you."

That surprised Sapphira, he'd assumed that it had been his own abilities at work. He hadn't once thought at least some of it had been the little girl. No wonder it had been so easy to touch her mind.

"She gonna be all right?" Sapphira asked eying the agent. Amelia bit her lip nodded, and most of the fire seemed to fade away.

"The EMT's are looking her over now. If she didn't inhale too much smoke, she should be fine."

Sapphira nodded, but didn't say a word.

The agent leaned forward, and before he could protest she slipped her arm under his shoulder and pulled him erect.

"Come on, let's get you some medical attention. Those enhanced healing abilities won't do you much good if you bleed out before your wounds can scab over."

"What about, my new friend?" Sapphira asked glancing back toward the patch of ground where he'd disappeared. "I'm assuming the welcoming committee was for him."

"He goes by the name Babalawo, which from what I told is some sort of Shaman."

Sapphira stepped on an uneven piece of ground, a rock perhaps, and groaned. "A Shaman? You can't be serious."

"The name is an affectation nothing more. He's a local aberrant, a bank robber, who we have had little success bringing him in because it's a little difficult cuffing a perp who can phase through solid matter." Amelia stopped as a pair of EMT's approached with a stretcher.

"Okay, that explains who he is..." Sapphira paused, and grunted as they hefted her onto the gurney. She panted, gritted her teeth and collapsed atop it. "Why the hell did he show up here?"

The EMT's rolled him toward their ambulance and the agent stepped in sync beside them. "He tripped the silent alarm when he phased into a vault in a nearby bank. They police who responded arrived just in time to catch him fleeing the scene of the crime and followed him here."

"And he popped in and make a rescue attempt while on the run from the cops?"

"He has a habit of showing up in situations like these to rescue innocents. I guess he fancies himself some sort of Robin Hood and since he knows we can't touch him, I doubt that our boys in blue were after him made much of a difference."

"He's gotta lotta balls. I'll say that for him," Sapphira sighed and laid back in the stretcher.

In his mind, what she had just told him only confirmed what he'd suspected all along. His motives were less than pure and Babalawo was just a common street thug with an impressive ability.

Just before they wheeled him into the ambulance he grabbed a paramedic by the sleeve and spoke. "The girl, is she gonna be all right?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine, Ma'am," the taller of the two answered back and without another word the pair hoisted the stretcher into the back of the ambulance and set him it down inside.

"My superiors aren't going to be happy when they learn about this fiasco," Amelia said from the doorway. "Be ready in case there's an inquiry. They'll want to speak with you, regardless."

She grimaced and took a few steps back before, turning away and disappearing from sight. Sapphira didn't like the sound of that, but for the time being there wasn't a lot he could do. He closed his eyes and left the paramedics to their work. Perhaps, it was from simple exhaustion, but somehow without even trying he drifted off to sleep.

Official Report

AEGIS Field Office

New Hebron, California

"Take a look agent," Matthews said slapping a paper atop his desk in front of her and spinning it around to face her.

Amelia knew what it said, she'd seen the headlines already. Not that she read the Daily Herald or any periodical. As a Millennial, she saw newspapers as a throwback to an earlier time that somehow persisted when there were quicker, easier methods to get information and news.

She'd known she'd get called in from the moment Sapphira rushed into that building. AEGIS did it's best to discourage vigilantism amongst the exemplar community because it caused more trouble than it fixed. There were exceptions, but those were special cases.

Leaping into a burning building, wasn't taking the law into your own hands, but coupled with Sapphira's encounter with Kwrump it might look to her superiors as if a pattern was forming. She wasn't sure they were wrong.

She leaned forward and read the headline, bit her lip and glanced back up at Matthews. "I read it this morning."

"So you also know they're calling her Psyren," Matthews said eyeing the agent his gaze never wavering for even a moment.

Amelia folded her arms and leaned back in her seat letting out a long sigh. She knew all about Sapphira's new alias, the reporter with the Affiliated Press who'd written the article must have thought she was being clever. It was a contraction of two words Psychic and siren and was inspired by the bullshit story she'd fed the press after the incident. Though based on true events the yarn was for all intents and purposes was fiction. Amy omitted all mention of Babalawo or Katie Brown and the official account had depicted Sapphira's new alter ego Psyren as the sole hero who'd used her psychic powers to lead Katie to safety. Hence the cute little play on words.

"He still identifies as male, sir."

Matthews shook his head and grimaced. "You might have certain sympathies for someone trapped in the wrong body, but, despite his recent heroics, he is a piece of work. I'm surprised you care."

"Regardless Amelia, we can sit here arguing proper pronoun use or you can explain how you lost track of Sapphira Scott."

Amelia clenched her jaw shut. She was tired of all the bullshit. Since empathic bold with the old man formed, her superiors had treated her with nothing but suspicion. She had worked too hard and sacrificed too much to let a matter out of her control destroy her career.

"He got drunk. He seems to have a low tolerance for alcohol. Maybe some side effect from his transformation, I'm not sure. He was unconscious in my car and I thought him down for the night. I didn't expect him to just go barreling into the building, sir."

"Good enough." Matthews whipped a hand out and grabbed the paper from the desk and slipped it inside one the drawers. He closed it and opened a second one producing a file folder from within. He set it atop the desk and pushed it toward the agent.

"Director Malcolm has ordered that I release all material we have on Chemosh to you. He feels it will be beneficial to your efforts with Miss Scott."

Amelia glanced down at the file folder, but didn't pick it up. Instead she eyed her superior with furrowed brows. "Sir, I'm confused. No reprimand, no inquiry, nothing? An exemplar under my charge ran into a burning building and almost got himself deep fried."

"If Steenburg had had his way, you would be under investigation, reassigned or seeking employment outside of the agency right about now, but Malcolm phoned in before Steenburg could act. The Deputy Assistant Director's objections were overruled, and he has been reassigned.

"You're kidding, to what division?"

"Resource Planning."

Amelia winced, she'd never cared for Steenburg, but she felt a little bad for him. Resource Planning was a dead end for someone like the Deputy Assistant Director. Director Malcolm wanted him out of the way, and, again, it made her wonder just what made her so damn important. Her instincts screamed at her that something was wrong, but just knowing something wasn't right, wouldn't help her understand what it might be.

She eyed Matthews, her mind racing and her heart beating inside of her chest like a jack-hammer. So unnerved was she that she almost resigned there and then, but stopped herself. As disquieting Malcolm's interference was, she knew whatever she'd stepped knees deep must be important. Too important just to walk away from.

She cleared her throat, picked up the file folder and flipped through it. "You think it's too soon to speculate on whatever shrub they'll get to take his place?"

Matthews eyebrows shot up and the barest hint of a smile touching the corner of his lips. "I wouldn't speculate on that, agent. The shrub, whoever he might be, will have your back. Since I believe we've covered all the bases, you have a job to get back to, Agent Van den Broeke."

Amelia stood and turned her back to her superior. She bit her lip and made her exit. Try as she might, she couldn't help but smile. Matthews wouldn't have said even that much if their superiors hadn't already promise him the job. He may not have stated it in so many words, but she could read between the lines.

For the first time since first encountering Everett Howard, she felt as if someone had given her a leg up. She'd known Matthews even before she'd become an agent. Over the years they had developed a close working relationship, and there was no one she trusted more than him.

Matthews was right, Amelia had a job to get back to, but first she had a little reading to do.