Gene Polanski, Male, 45

	- Business VP, husband of Tamara, father of Lauren, Finch, and Logan

	- tanned beige skin, 6'1, 210lbs, short peppered grey-black hair

Tamara Khouri-Polanski, Female, 43

	- Professor, wife of Gene, mother of Lauren, Finch, and Logan

	- dark olive skin, 5'6, 150lbs, shoulder-length curly rich brown hair with natural red highlights

Lauren Khouri-Polanski, Female, 15

	- High school freshman, daughter of Gene and Tamara, sister of Finch and Logan

	- medium olive skin, 5'8, 150lbs, back-length curly black-brown hair, colored white-streaked highlights

Finch Khouri-Polanski, Male, 14

	- Eigth-grader, son of Gene and Tamara, brother of Lauren and Logan

	- dark olive skin, 5'6, 145lbs, ear-length curly rich brown hair with natural red highlights

Logan Khouri-Polanski, Male, 12

	- Sixth-grader, son of Gene and Tamara, brother of Lauren and Finch

	- medium olive skin, 5'1, 110lbs, ear-length straight black hair

Holly Bridgewater, Female, 19

	- Agent of Marker 1, sister of Anna

	- Bronze-tanned skin, 5'1, 100lbs, straight shoulder-length straw-blonde hair

Anna Bridgewater, Female, 22

	- Agent of Marker 1, Sister of Holly

	- Bronze-tanned skin, 5'2, 120lbs, straight shoulder-length straw-blonde hair

Marcus Hannigan, Male, late-30s

	- Former agent of M1 and Playa Gordo

	- Pale, freckled skin, 5'11, 185lbs, short sandy-red hair

Dr. Erns Henderson, Male, 40ish

	- Associate of Panthea, husband of Juliana, father of Hannah and Georges

	- Dark beige skin, 7'0, 280lbs, unkempt black hair.

Juliana Henderson, Female, 40ish

	- wife of Dr. Henderson, mother of Hannah and Georges

	- Dark tan skin, 5'0, 100lbs, long dark hair

Hannah Henderson, Female, 15

	- daughter of Dr. Henderson and Juliana, twin sister of Georges

	- Dark beige skin, 5'10, 160lbs, long dark-brown hair in a ponytail

Georges Henderson, Male, 15

	- son of Dr. Henderson and Juliana, twin brother of Hannah

	- Dark beige skin, 5'10, 165lbs, mousy dark-brown hair

Panthea (Silk Purse), Female, early 50s

	- A woman with an unknown background

	- Brown-grey skin, 5'7, 140lbs, short curly black-silk hair

Adam (Silver) Silverbaum, Male, late-20s

	- M1 Technician

	- Ashy beige skin, 5'7, 150lbs, ear-length black hair

Marisa, Female, early-30s

	- M1 Technician

	- Light almond skin, 5'3, 110lbs, short dark-brown hair

Bendal, Male, late-30s

	- M1 Technician

	- Pale freckled skin, 5'8, 160lbs, shaved bald head

Major Ingrid Danielson, Female, late-40s

	- M1 Officer

	- Tanned, freckled beige skin, 5'11, 175lbs, cropped coppery-red hair

Aristotle Bridgewater, Male, late-40s

	- Former M1 Executive

	- Bronzed beige skin, 6'2, 185lbs, short blonde hair

“Dad!?”

Holly's voice echoed, bouncing around the tunnel as Gene's heart raced. Just seconds earlier, Holly had been on the verge of slicing her sister's throat. Now, for the first time since he'd met her, Holly appeared frozen and unable to process what was happening.

“It's me, Kitten.” Bridgewater closed the gap in two steps and wrapped his arms around Holly. “It's me.”

Anna slowly backed away, leaned against the wall, and slid down quickly, shaken and trembling. Bendal knelt down beside her and spoke to her quietly, wiping away the thin line of blood which had formed where Holly had held the knife against her throat.

For a minute or so, no one spoke as father and daughter were reunited. Sobbing surprised Gene, especially since it seemed to come from Holly. She cried freely for a time, “Dad... oh, Dad...”

The fiery blond ended the hug suddenly, pushing herself away, her face red and puffy, quite visibly angry. “Why, Dad! Why did you let me believe you were dead? All this time! All this time, Dad! I've thought you were dead.”

“Its... a long story, Kitten. I promise, I'll tell you everything,” He glanced to Gene and nodded. “We need to get on the move. Stay quiet. We'll talk when we are secure. I've got a safe house. Let's get our guest somewhere more comfortable.” The tall man turned back to Holly. “I'll explain everything then.” Bridgewater ran his hand down Holly's cheeks, wiping away the tears. “I've missed you so,” he said quietly, and to Gene it sounded sincere.

A quick movement of Bridgewater's head had the others following him through the passage on the side of the room, and Gene shuffled quickly behind, unsure what the hell he'd just walked into. He let out a frustrated chuckle, realizing that he had been doing a lot of that lately.

- - -

The whirl of the helicopter crept up quickly from the south, just seconds before Danielson came rushing up to where Tamara waited for her. She was pushing a gurney, a white sheet fully covering what appeared to be a motionless body. Tamara crouched when the Major motioned her to her side.

“What's going on, Ingrid?” she had to shout as the chopper landed just behind them.

“You're getting out of here, right now. You're a nurse, start acting like one. Your patient is unconscious. Won't stay that way for long.”

Tamara was beyond confused, “Wh--”

“I have zero time to explain. Best I could do on short notice. This is a medical evac. It will take your patient to the medical center just north of Rome. This is your patient. You shouldn't need to say anything to those on the helo, just act calm.”

“What the hell do I do when I get there?” Tamara exclaimed.

“No idea. Said this was the best I could do. I'm getting you out of here the only way I could. You'll have to think on your feet when you get there. It's an M1 facility, but... trust no one. I think you understand that already.”

Tamara felt horrible as a realization sunk in. “What about you? Won't this come down on you?”

The Major shook her head. “No time for rationalization. This is about getting you away from Victor. Everything else is details.”

Tamara nodded tightly, afraid for the woman. “Thank you, Ingrid... thank you...”

Danielson nodded, eyes looking tired. “Goodbye, Tamara. Good luck.”

The two women looked at each other a few seconds, unmoving. Tamara could not help tilting her head close and kissing the woman, opening her lips and thanking her more fully than words ever could.

It lasted but a brief moment. Danielson pushed her away. “The helo's down. Run!”

Tamara leapt to her feet and pushed the gurney quickly towards the waiting helicopter. Two men met her and loaded the gurney into the craft, then helped Tamara up before climbing inside and slamming the door behind them. Seconds later, the chopper rose into the darkness and was spinning around to head towards Rome.

- - -

Logan's cock was more sore than it had ever been. He'd cum at least five times in the last day, the last thanks to Hannah's soft lips. For whatever reason, the soreness made it even harder not to touch himself. He wasn't jerking off, on his back next to Finch on the small bed they were sharing for the night, but his fingers idly moved around his groin. He'd showered, so the sticky remains of his ejaculations had already been cleared away, but the rawness of his flesh was still there to remind him of what he'd done.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed and listened. Finch was snoring softly. Lauren was nearby, sleeping in an oversized chair. Hannah and Georges had curled up on opposite sides of the bed on the floor.

They were all exhausted from the long ride over the mountains, but for some reason, Logan just couldn't fall back asleep after he awoke moments before. Carefully, he crept out of the room and made his way downstairs, thinking to find a glass of water. The kitchen was dark, so he flicked on a light.

“Hey,” came a cracked voice, “trying to sleep here.” Panthea's tone sounded dry and scratchy. Logan had forgotten she settled down on the couch nearby.

“Sorry,” Logan replied, reaching for the switch, but Panthea cut him off.

“S'ok. Would you grab me a cup of water?” she asked.

“Yeah, one sec.”

Logan opened several cabinets but found only one old ceramic mug. He filled it from the tap and carried it to the woman who had sat up on the couch. “Only cup,” he told her as she took it from his hands.

“We can share, if that's alright.”

“Yeah, sure,” the boy replied.

Panthea sipped a moment, then handed the cup back to Logan. She eyed him as he drank. “Tell me, Logan... Does all this scare you?”

The boy thought a moment. “Nah. I'm a hero in this. I'm not scared.”

“You're lying,” she said softly, “but that's okay. It's normal to be scared. I'm scared.”

“Why? You don't act scared...” Logan replied.

“I can't help being scared. No one can. But I can control whether I show it. Fear is contagious, Logan. We all feel it, but if we start to show it, it makes us all weaker.” Panthea took back the cup and swallowed the remainder. “I'll get more.”

She rose and went into the kitchen, leaving Logan to ponder her words.

When she returned, she handed him the cup and sat back down. “Scared just means you realize the gravity of things, you know that what you do, how you react... that matters. It means something important is on the line. Your life. Your family. Your friends. Maybe something less tangible, like an ideology or a dream. All the same, being scared reminds you to not take things for granted. When you feel scared, push it back and try to focus. Remember that your actions matter, that the decisions you make could change everything. Be scared, Logan, but don't let the fear control you.”

He stared at her, trying to understand what she meant. He was scared. Terrified, really, though just how much varied greatly over the hours and days and weeks since he'd left home. He'd often felt exhilaration during odd moments, feeling light and powerful. Others, he knew he was small and unable to do more than look on as other people's actions controlled his life. He feared he'd never see his parents again, that he'd be killed, that he wouldn't be the hero he liked to imagine, but instead, he'd discover that he was the coward.

“Here's a trick I use, Logan.” Panthea leaned forward and looked into his eyes. “When you feel fear gripping you, force yourself to remember who and what you love. Focus on them. Make yourself believe that whatever happens, you have the power to change things for the good. When I do that, I find a way to push aside the fear and do what needs to be done.”

Logan felt like he understood suddenly, and he asked, “Who do you think about?”

Panthea looked past him, then replied silently, “someone I lost long ago.”

The boy knew he might be pressing too deeply, but he asked anyway, “so... if you lost them... why does that help you? Aren't they beyond help?”

The woman nodded slowly, “in some sense... yes. But some actions, Logan... some actions affect everything. Sometimes little changes make a big difference. It's what I need to get through those moments when fear grips me. Make sure you find whatever or whoever it is in your life that can do the same.”

She refused the cup when he offered it again and leaned back on the couch. “I'd like to get some sleep now,” Panthea said, yawning. “Thanks for the water, Logan.”

He nodded but didn't reply, returning to the bedroom to try to find sleep.

- - -

Gene waited just inside the door of the small brick building which was built into the side of a hill. Bridgewater had gone ahead with Anna, heading out into the darkness towards God-knew-what next stopping point on this haphazard trip across the globe. Gene couldn't even count how many countries he'd been in since he left home. But it seemed he'd just added Italy to the list.

He glanced at Holly, who still looked to be in shock. It made Gene very uncomfortable to see the vibrant, self-assured young woman in such a state. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her, and to his surprise, she pressed herself against him as if desperate for the comfort. “Can't believe it, Gene,” she said quietly. “I can't believe he's alive and didn't tell me...”

“He seems to have his reasons... seems cruel, though,” Gene replied, unsure what else to say. “Aren't you... happy he's still around?”

“Of course!” She exclaimed, briefly surging out of his arms, then pushing back against him. “I just can't believe it. All this time... I wonder... I wonder if Anna knew all along...” Her voice raised. “She knew, Gene! She knew Dad was alive!”

“Shhh,” he said, trying to calm her. “We don't know that for sure, and even if she did... your dad seems like the kind of guy who does nothing without a reason. If Anna knew and you didn't... maybe he thought that was the way to go. We don't know yet.”

He could feel Holly trembling against him, so he slowly stroked her silky blonde hair. It was so odd to see the young woman like that.

Bendal, Marisa, and Silver were huddled together a few meters back from where Gene stood holding Holly, discussing something in hushed tones.

“He was my first, Gene,” Holly said quietly. “Did I ever tell you that?”

Gene thought back to the conversation they'd had after leaving Oasis. “Not specifically. I knew you... had a relationship... but not that he was your first.”

She pulled in tighter, the warm scents from her sweaty body suddenly intoxicating to Gene. “I was fifteen. It was so special. Like... every girl dreams about. He was so gentle. His hands... god, Gene... his hands touched me so carefully. I just melted that night. He made me a woman and he did it so that I'd always think about that night and compare it to every other I'd ever have. I think that's part of why I am like I am, Gene... why I love sex... why I seek it all the time. I crave what he gave me that night...”

Gene didn't respond a moment, then said, “sounds hard to live up to, anyone who you fucked after that.”

She nodded against his chest, “yes... and no... I've never fully recaptured those moments... but it's kinda silly to think that anyone ever could. I mean... before that, I'd barely been aware of my sexuality. Afterwards... I felt like a goddess. Nothing has ever compared to that first time, not even when Dad and I were together again a day or two later. But...” she paused, running her hands down over Gene's stomach, stopping just short of moving over his crotch, “I've found that there is a thrill to all of it. I can't get enough, Gene. I crave it constantly.”

“I've noticed.”

She giggled finally, “yeah... so you have. For the record, Gene... you're my favorite now... I've had a lot of partners... a lot. But you... mmm-mmm... you just get me. And it's not just the sex, Gene... I like you, too. That rarely happens. I usually use them 'n lose them. Not you, though. I can't stop wanting you...”

By the time she stopped talking, her hand had slipped into Gene's pants and was slowly rubbing his swelling cock.

“Let's go.” Bridgewater's voice boomed from a few yards away. He was alone, no sign of Anna. His eyes glanced down to where Holly's fingers were tucked into Gene's crotch. “Bit of a long walk. Come on.” His eyes stayed on that spot long enough for Gene to feel very uncomfortable. Slowly, Holly removed her hand and pulled herself up straight. Whatever she was thinking in that moment, it was lost on Gene. He trudged after Bridgewater into the darkness.

- - -

When Logan had returned to bed from whatever he'd been doing out of the room, Lauren had awoken and been unable to find sleep again. She shifted her body in the chair, the plush seating offered a decent platform for slumber but it wasn't the cushioning which was causing her to feel restless. They'd been going so long, travelled so far, stopped in so many places, she was starting to forget what it was like to live a normal life. It had been close at the ranch, the days spent there some of the best she'd known, but like everything she enjoyed since being on the run, it didn't last.

That's not true, she thought, my pussy has been doing a great job of being enjoyed. She silently laughed to herself. She'd rather loved the shower with Hannah earlier, and thinking of the tall girl's tender vulva made Lauren's clit rise on its own. Maybe I just need to cum again to get back to sleep.

She quietly shifted her blanket and pushed her hand down between her legs. She wore only a long nightshirt and panties, her jeans shrugged off in the corner. The panties weren't exactly clean, unfortunately, but she didn't want to sleep in the chair with exposed genitals.

Her pussy was warm and welcoming, as it always was. Inside, she was slick and sticky, causing Lauren to bring her fingers to her nose and inhale. Her odors were mild but wonderful, a briny-sweetness which tasted much as it smelled. She scooped another glob of her cream from her vagina and brought it to her lips, savoring the pungent, rich grool which see seemed to produce by the gallon lately. She'd just returned her fingers to her snatch when there was motion at her feet.

Georges rolled over and looked up at her, blinking. She smiled, unashamed to be masturbating in front of the handsome teen. She pushed the blanket aside and showed him what she was doing underneath, then pushed her panties to the side and spread her legs, her ass on the edge of the chair, offering him her wet, willing sex.

The boy was no fool. He rose quickly, kneeling between her thighs. Georges pulled his hardening dick through the front of his boxers and smoothly slid inside the fifteen-year old. Lauren felt his penis stretch her vagina nicely, his hot flesh pulsating as he started to thrust in and out of her. She loved being fucked, and Georges had a nice cock which felt just about perfect inside her.

She tried to be quiet to keep from waking the others, and Georges was doing the same, breathing quickly but quietly as his body moved against her. Her clit throbbed and she stroked it quickly, barely muffling a cry as she started to cum, clenching her vagina around his dick to feel every inch of it inside her.

Georges started to shudder and Lauren knew he was close. She wrapped her arms around his back and used him as leverage to move her hips up against him. Lauren was thankful that he still wore a shirt given that she was practically clawing him as she drew him into her.

The teen grunted, and Lauren felt his penis swelling inside her pussy. He shuddered and trembled, shaking quietly as he started to unload. His cock twitched and Lauren moaned. She loved the feeling of a boy cumming inside her pussy. She kept her legs spread wide, offering him her deepest depths, his semen splashing in thick jets against her cervix.

He pulled out suddenly and sank onto his knees. Lauren let the panties slip back over her slit before the load of cum drooled out. They breathed heavily a moment, smiling at each other, her legs lowered to the floor. She felt quite tired suddenly. Georges seemed to feel the same. He leaned forward, kissed her lips, and said, “good night, sweet Lauren...”

She let the kiss linger a moment, then exhaled. “Goodnight, my lovely Georges.”

- - -

“Who are you?!” the medical officer demanded for the second time.

Tamara had no idea what to do. She'd tried to fashion a story to tell whenever they landed, but she'd blanked on whatever it had been as soon as she stepped onto the pad. She'd stared silently the first time the woman had asked the question.

“Catherine Barkley.” Jesus Christ, really? she thought. It was the first name that came to her head. Catherine Barkley was the nurse from Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms. Tamara hoped the woman in front of her didn't read. “This is my patient.”

The officer stared at her, then to the side where the sheet still covered the body. “Paperwork?”

“There was no time,” Tamara yelled above the din of the chopper nearby. “Rushed to save his life.”

“What's his status?”

Tamara was no medical professional. She had no clue what to say. “Uh... unconscious. Unknown why. Poisoned?” She offered uncertainly.

“Poisoned...” the woman's doubts were obvious. “Who are you again?”

The sheet moved suddenly and fell away, a figure dashed off the gurney and struck the medical officer across the back of her neck.

Tamara was speechless to see Marcus Hannigan carefully lowering the unconscious woman's body to the ground. “Mar--” Tamara started.

“Move! Follow me!” He took her hand briefly and started running towards the rear of the large compound. Tamara heard shouting behind her but didn't turn to see if they were being chased. They darted between two buildings, then behind a third, cutting back again when a patrol walked in their direction. She wondered if the man she was following had any idea where he was going.

- - -

“Christ,” Gene muttered under his breath, “he wasn't kidding when he said it was a 'bit of a long walk.'” The last phrase was uttered with a poor attempt to mimic Bridgewater's deep, melodic voice.

“Almost there,” the man said quietly over his shoulder. “Not much more to go.”

Holly took Gene's hand and whispered, “ears like a bat.”

Minover. Gene swooned and Holly caught him, staring with concern as he stumbled. An image formed clear as day in his mind. It lasted only a second. It was an industrial plant of some kind next to a wide river. The image fuzzed and became black. Gene stumbled again.

Holly grabbed him tighter. “Are you alright?”

“Fucking Minover trying to break through. I'm fine.” The sensation passed slowly. Gene called quietly ahead, “can you at least tell me where we are going?”

“A safe house. One of my favorites, actually,” the man replied.

“What city?” Gene grumbled.

“Genoa. Quick now, over this last leg. Don't want to get caught out, it will be light soon.”

Genoa. One day, when I write my memoirs, maybe I'll remember that. Maybe not, though, Gene mused to himself, so goddamned many places I've been, my brain all scrambled, fucking Minover haunting me, whatever the fuck that is.

Gene picked up his gait and followed Bridgewater down the slope leading towards the suburbs of a seaside city.

- - -

“Kids, get up. We're moving.” Finch opened his eyes to the sound of Henderson's deep baritone. “Quickly, now.”

He was on his feet and into his clothes in under a minute, the others right with him. They'd been moving on from so many places it took no real thought, and they generally carried little more than their clothes, anyway, so it wasn't like Finch had to pack or get ready.

They headed down the stairs to find Henderson, Juliana, and Panthea already waiting.

“Where are we going?” Finch called out as he followed Hannah down the last steps.

“To meet the man I've told you about,” Henderson replied.

Finch cocked his head, “but you've told us nothing about him.”

“Exactly, and for good reason. You'll meet him soon enough, and I understand, thanks to rather good fortune and the efforts of many people, there might be a special someone waiting to greet you.”

Finch's heart skipped a beat. “Who?!”

“Your father.”