The Man in Blue

[Grace]

The Colorado Rockies in spring...

If you've never been, I strongly suggest it.

I was here on this occasion following up on a news report about a UFO sighting that Ron had posed on the boards. That lead itself was a relative dead end. I didn't really learn anything that wasn't already in the article and I had to put up with the clumsy come on's from one of the men involved.

Still, I didn't want to give up there and go home empty handed. So I started nosing around. A couple days of questioning the locals didn't really produce anything new, but it must have garnered some attention. One morning I awoke to find that someone had slipped an envelope under my door. Inside was a note.

We know who you are and we need your help.

Please come to the Tall Pine Ranch tonight after dark.

Come alone.

I spent the rest of the day hanging around downtown. I noticed a couple of tall blonde goons dressed in black suits following me around at one point. They wore sunglasses and had 1940's style hats on.

"You've got to be kidding me." I thought to myself.

These guys couldn't have been professionals. I had easily spotted and 'made' them. Just as easily I lost them and followed them the rest of the day. A day spent watching them observe my jeep, my hotel and flash my picture around town. Okay, so they weren't total chumps. They had managed to photograph me without me knowing it. To this day I have no idea how they managed that feat.

About mid-afternoon, I lost track of them. It was weird. They just walked around a corner and were gone. Had they ever actually been there or had I imagined the whole thing?

In any case, as the sun went down, and I had an appointment to keep.

The driveway to the ranch house was a dirt path. There were signs that a vehicle had recently driven up and down it. If I had to guess, I'd say an SUV.

I got to the door and knocked. No answer. The lights were on and I could hear people inside so I knocked again. And again.

Finally a woman answered the door. She looked extremely apprehensive, "can I help you?"

I handed her the note. She took it and read it. It caused her to pale, "no one here wrote that." She neglected to hand it back to me.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should check with the others." I pursed my lips for a moment, "I'd really hate to think that I came all this way just to waste my time."

She gulped, "just second." Then she closed the door. I couldn't make out what was being said from inside but it sounded frantic with just a touch of desperation. Then she reopened the door. I noticed that she was no longer holding the note. She managed a thin smile at me, "nope. No one here knows anything about it."

"Seriously, lady? That's your story?"

She slammed the door in my face. My response to that was most unlady like.

Having vented in a series of obscene expletives, I stalked back to the jeep I had rented. I sped back to my hotel. This was going to be my last night here. I'd wasted enough time on this wild goose chase.

When I got into my room, there was a sticky note on top of my laptop.

Giving up so soon?

My laptop was warm, like someone had recently been using it.

I opened it up and logged in.

I had a new e-mail from a freelance 'handler'. I'd been offered a job. There was a whole lot of zeros in the offered payment. It had already been deposited in the freelancers account. It was being held until the successful completion of the proposed mission.

Nemesis,

There is a 'Grey' extraterrestrial that has landed it's spacecraft in the Rockies. This extraterrestrial, hereby referred to as Mr. Grey is a danger to humans and society. It must be tracked down and terminated as quickly as possible.

Mr. Grey is psionic and has access advanced high tech weapons, armor and gear. He should be viewed as extremely dangerous.

You will not be the only one looking for Mr. Grey. You saw the 'Scandinavians' earlier today. They should be considered extremely hostile and dangerous. Their mission is to capture Mr. Grey alive. Recovery of Mr. Grey's technology is probably their secondary objective.

Rogue government operatives may also be involved. They should be viewed as being extremely hostile and dangerous. Their mission is to capture Mr. Grey and his technology.

If you accept this mission, you will be provided an immediate fee as per the payment schedule. Additional expenses may be submitted thru your freelance handler. The outstanding amount of the payment will be made upon successful completion of the mission.

Direct contact between us is not part of this operation and is not recommended.

Mr. Blue

What the hell. Could be fun, right?

[Grace]

The first thing to do was to go back to the Tall Pine Ranch. I didn't expect to get any further cooperation from the people who lived there (well short of strong arming them), although their reactions to date indicated that they had something to do with it.

That being the case, there was a chance that I could find something on the grounds. One of the first things I noticed was that the house was dark. That seemed odd as it was the middle of the day and what's more, all the vehicles were present.

So I changed my mind about trying to contact the residents and knocked on the door. More than the first time. No answer. So I committed a little B&E in order to look around. I found a whole family that had been lined up, put on their knees and then shot in the back of the head with a 9mm pistol. Based on what I could see, I would guess it had happened the night before, a little after I showed up.

No signs of struggle of any kind.

There were a number of firearms in the house. The phone lines were still active and two of the family members had cell phones.

Why hadn't they resisted? Why hadn't the police been called?

I decided not to advise the authorities for a number of reasons. Not the least of which was the fact I was still looking for clues.

My search took me to the barn. The animals were all slaughtered and butchered in odd ways. Various organs were missing from them. There was no pattern present that I could discern.

One stall didn't have any animals in it. The straw had been formed to make a crude bed. There were Reese's Pieces boxes everywhere.

Oh and blood. Lots and lots of blood. Whatever had been there enjoyed a high protein diet.

The faint aroma of cordite still lingered in the air so I looked for signs of a fight. There were holes that suggest a 9mm sized projectile had passed through them. The angle of most these holes suggested to me that the shooter had been firing from the front entrance of the barn. That having been said, I found a number of holes that suggested that the bullets had ricocheted in odd ways. If I had to guess, I would think that the rounds had hit something in the stall and then bounced back at anywhere from a 90 to nearly a 180 degree arc.

On the wall near the front entrance, there was a blackened outline of a person, complete with 1940's era hat.

There were no casings to be found.

Finally, it looked as though someone had been dragged from around the area of the front door to outside the barn. I found no evidence to show how whatever had been in the stall had exited the barn.

[Grace]

I wasn't the only one interested in the scene and the clues it might offer up.

As I was exiting the barn, I looked up to see about six to eight men in black suits looking around the house. In the driveway there were two SUV's parked (my own vehicle was parked under some trees about two miles away). They all had ear buds, sunglasses and Glock side arms. You get the picture I'm trying to paint here, aren't you?

Unfortunately as I saw them, a couple of them spotted me. Usually in a situation like that, you would hear a, "hey you! What are you doing here?" Or perhaps the venerable, "freeze! You're under arrest!" Criminals like me depend on these niceties, you know?

As a group, they went for their pistols.

Like greased lightning, I dove back inside the barn as a hail of gunfire followed behind me. I landed, rolled and came up with my own Glock drawn. They weren't going to get me without a fight! The hayloft offered me just the sort of positioning I wanted so I tossed open the back door to suggest I had run out and then climbed up ladder and hustled behind some square bails.

A couple of these agents ran in and covered their right and left arcs.

From outside, I heard what sounded like a police siren bleat out its high pitched scream for a moment. Now they let me know they're here?

There was a shout that sounded like it was from the driveway. "I don't suppose you gentleman would mind explaining to me what you're doing shooting pistols into the side of a barn?"

"It's none of your business; now get the hell out of here!" Came the response.

"Actually, illegal firearms use very much is my business. Now you folks will identify yourselves and what you're doing here or you'll be coming along with me to explain it to the duty judge."

The two agents in the barn with me hadn't stopped their progress in looking for me. They paused at the door but pointed to the ground outside. No tracks so they weren't fooled.

"If you must know, we're federal agents in pursuit of a dangerous fugitive. If you want to help out, you can cordon of the area..."

"Your credentials, sir."

"There isn't time for that, you're hindering a federal investigation. You could get into a lot of trouble..."

As quietly as I could, I screwed a silencer onto the end of my pistol. As some of you know, a silencer doesn't actually 'silence' a firearm. It suppresses the sound, but it is still quite loud. The most significant thing it does is alter the sound so that it no longer sounds like a gunshot.

"Federal investigation? What agency? Where's your badge?"

"Who the hell are you to ask us who we are anyway?" It was a new voice. "You've been told what you need now be a good townie and either cordon the area or fuck off."

The two men were climbing up the ladder, "that's right, come to mama," I thought to myself.

"Ah, see thing is, I'm not a townie." There was a pause. "As you can see here by my badge, I'm a special agent with the FBI. You see how easy and quick it is to produce proper credentials?"

"I've never seen a special agent look like you before."

"I'm a special case."

The first agent started to lean over the bail I was behind. My knife shot up and caught him in the throat.

"Fine, here's my badge."

The dead agents buddy didn't have time to wonder why his partner was slumped over a hay bail and making muffled gurgling choking sounds. I pulled my knife out of his throat and vaulted over the bail.

"NSA, impressive."

"Thank you now if you'll just..."

"And apprehending fugitives is totally outside your area of expertise or operations. I can only conclude that the ID is a fake or you're conducting an illegal operation. Considering that suppresser one of your men put on his pistol as he circled around behind me is highly illegal for use in a situation like this, I can only conclude you're criminals. Therefore, you're all under arrest for..."

Gunfire broke out right then.

[Doctor Boggs]

Good lord girl, are you ever not in trouble?

[Ron Caliburn]

There was that one time.

No wait, she was in trouble then too.

[Grace]

A Chinese woman once cursed me. She said, "may you live in interesting times."

To be honest though, I was in a pinch of trouble and I figured the LEO outside was in a world of hurt.

The guy in the barn with me was ready to deflect my swinging knife blade with his pistol. Heck, he was even ready for my pistol, pushing my wrist up and forcing me to miss my shot. He definitely had my respect.

That didn't mean I was prepared to sit there while he lined up a shot. I disengaged and jumped behind another bail. Several rounds went over my head and a couple were stopped by the bail. A couple more went right through it. Fortunately not where I happened to be at the time.

I crawled to a new position behind a new bail. Then I popped up my make-up mirror to see where my dance partner was. He was waiting behind a bail himself, watching for me to pop up. In fact, he got a shot off at my mirror. Fortunately for my vanity, he missed.

Outside, I could hear two distinct types of gunfire. On one hand, there was what sounded like multiple sources of 9mm semi-automatic fire (some of which was suppressed). On the other hand, there was the large bark of a high caliber weapon returning fire. Every time the big gun barked, there was return fire from the 9mm's.

Even more interesting were some of the shouts I overheard.

"That shot punched right through Charlie's armor like it was nothing!"

"Surrender is an honorable choice in situations like these."

"I shot right at him! There's no way I missed!"

"Dead or alive, you're coming with me."

"How'd he know Mac was behind him?"

I had my own problems to deal with, of course. If I popped my head up to aim, he was going to pop it off. What's that, shoot using my mirror to aim? This ain't the movies, you know. Still, I could use my mirror to my advantage.

"Sounds like your boys are getting pummelled," I called out to my adversary, "maybe you better go help them out."

"It's nothing they can't handle," he snorted. "Just like you aren't."

While he was talking, I was moving. What your mom told you is true. It's hard to listen when you're talking.

Meanwhile, the battle of words was still raging outside.

"Die you mother..."

"That shot scratched the paint on my Jeep. Now I'm mad."

"Fall back! Fall..."

I checked with my mirror. My opponent was still focused on the area where he had last heard me. Now I had a good idea where he was. I stood up and immediately fired, catching him in the shoulder. He went down and I followed up, firing as I advanced on him. He was dead by the time I was standing on top of him and reloading.

"It's just you and me now, you could still let me arrest you."

"Never."

There was two more 9mm shots and a final loud bark. The battle was over.

It was time to get my ass out of there.

"How you doing up there, Nemesis?" The voice yelled out, closer to the barn now. "Do you need any help?"

I decided to creep to the wall of the barn and peek out of one of the cracks. Somehow he knew where I was.

He was flashing me the Lazlo Society hand signal.

[Grace]

Huh. I was expecting more of a response from Ron about government agents using his hand sign. No matter.

Now I'm not one to trust someone just because they can figure out how to use a hand sign that's available on the internet. But at least I knew he was someone who visits this site regular enough to know it. Given that he knew who I was, my connection to this site and that I was in the immediate area all contributed to the possibility that this was the guy currently paying my bills.

That and the fact he wasn't yelling my real name all over the place was the sort of thing that a girl appreciates, you know? There was another mitigating factor but I'm not allowed to discuss that with anyone pursuant to our mutually binding contract. For the record, my posting of this tale is also part of the contract, which is why I'm working on my birthday.

"Naw, got 'em all." I called down before making my way out to meet him face to face.

"Glad to hear it." He extended his hand in greeting.

I accepted it somewhat hesitantly. "I thought you said that we shouldn't meet up?"

"It wasn't my intention but the situation is rapidly evolving." He gestured to the six bodies in the driveway. "I couldn't risk their intervention taking you out of the equation." He didn't prolong the pleasantries, "what did you find in the barn?"

I told him as we walked back into the building. He was walking briskly, suggesting that there was little time. Along the way he pulled out some sort of digital device that he waved over the areas of interest on the inside. His frown only continued to grow. "We have to go, someone is going to come looking for those clowns." He started back for his vehicle. "Where'd you park?"

"A couple miles south of here." I told him as I got into the passenger side, "don't you have to do something about..." I waved my hand at the scene of battle in front of us, "this?"

He shrugged, "they're no longer in any condition to answer my questions. And in any case, their own people will be along shortly looking for them. Let them clean up their mess." His tone did not suggest that he had much sympathy or compassion for them.

"Who were they?" I asked, "men in black?"

He snorted, "they like wearing black and some incidents referring to the mythic men in black involve them." he started up his vehicle and started backing up. "Most of them think they're part of a covert government agency that works beyond the law with full sanction of the president. Some of them even hold credentials in legitimate agencies. But the truth of the matter is, what they're doing is illegal. They are not sanctioned. And while some of their higher ups have highly placed operatives so that they can deflect some trouble, they are not nearly so well protected as they like to think. When I catch them, I arrest them. Of those I arrest, some are gotten off the hook thru various means. Which works for me as they have to expose more of their operation and who is working for them in the process. Others are killed or broken out of jail by some means. This is less desirable as a potential source of information is lost. And their operations aren't quite as exposed to scrutiny when it happens. A few, a very precious few either turn or wind up convicted."

"This is me, up here." I said as we neared my own jeep. "I sense there's no love lost between you and them."

He turned onto the side road that I indicated. "They're criminals." Like that explained it all.

"So am I." I pointed out.

He looked over at me and there seemed to be some conflicted emotions. His eyes were especially hard to read. "I have no hard evidence on you. And unlike them, you don't interfere with my department's legitimate investigations." He looked ahead again, his eyes on the road. "There are other mitigating circumstances I don't wish to discuss."

I opened the door as we rolled to a stop near my vehicle. "What now?"

"We meet up later. There's a small village about four hours west of here on the highway, further into the mountains. There's a single motel there. When you get there, ask for Mr. Blue's room. We'll make our next move from there."

I nodded and closed the door. I had questions about my employer but they would have to wait for later. For now, I had to go back into town and get my stuff from the room I was staying at. As I watched the plume of dust that his vehicle kicked up as it raced down the street, I just wondered what exactly I had gotten myself into this time.

[Grace]

Things were uneventful for me the rest of that day. Got my stuff from the place I was staying at and then made my way to the village that Mr. Blue had referred me too.

It had a very rustic feel to it. The 'motel' was actually a series of small log cabins collected on a large wooded lot. I had to go to the administration building to find out what one he was staying in. It was the furthest, most isolated cabin on the whole lot.

The sun was going down by the time I was walking up to the door of the cabin he had procured for us. I had a moment of suspicion that caused me to pause. What did I really know about this guy and his motives? Nothing. Then again, he was paying the bills. Sighing, I put the key into the lock and opened the door.

He was seated at a desk, his back to me. "Hello Nemesis," he said without looking over his shoulder.

"How'd you know it was me?" I asked as I looked around the place. It was quaint. And it had two made beds. His had been claimed by a barricade of luggage and gear. It was the one closest to the desk and the computer he was currently typing at. Mine was closest to the door. I dropped my duffel bag on it.

"You don't make noise when you walk." He replied as he shut down the chat program he had been using. It wasn't one I recognized. I think it was called MJK-7/12 or something like that.

"So I'm here, now what?" I asked as I slipped off my jacket to hang on the hanger on the door. Like him, I had my shoulder holster and sidearm still on.

"We kit you out." He walked around the bed and pulled a large and rugged looking case onto my bed. "Here's a few things I took the liberty of picking up for you." He popped it open.

It was like looking in James Bond's suitcase. Inside were ammo cans, some electronic gear, gadgets and armor. I held up the armor to examine it. It was like nothing I had ever seen.

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "bathroom's over there if you want to try it on."

Shortly, I was examining myself in front of a full length mirror. The armor was made of a Kevlar like material that fit me like a glove. It actually felt like it was tailored just for me, which was creepy on all sorts of interesting levels. There were chest, side and back ballistic inserts to protect my vitals. I marvelled at their light weight and thin profile. I had serious doubts about this stuff actually being able to protect me. It did come with very comfortable and practical boots though. The gloves were also quite nice. The elbow and knee pads were nice, practical touches.

I walked back out to the common area.

Mr. Blue looked up, "how's it fit?"

"Frankly," I said while running a hand down my hip, "a little too well."

"The previous owner had the same build as you. Thought it might fit you." In the low light of the cabin, he was hard to read.

That sort of sent a shiver up my spine. I hadn't found any bullet holes or other signs of repair while putting it on, "a former partner of yours?"

"Subordinate, actually." He reached over the case and pulled out a few items. "These goggles are state of the art. A full range of optical choices plus they can provide a HUD display of the scope I've included in this package. This here, is a filtered emergency breathing apparatus."

What he was holding up was little more than a rubber face mask with a cookie sized disc over it and a couple of small cylinders attached to straps that went around the back of the head. "It will filter out most contaminants and provide up to 15 minutes of emergency air should you need it."

The list of items went on. Crazy shit that seemed like it was out of spy movie or near future Sci-fi.

When he was done, I couldn't help but ask, "what's all this stuff cost?"

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "Consider it a fringe benefit of this job."

"You mean I get to keep it?" There was probably enough gear here to equal my fee with change left over.

"Yes." He started to clear his bed. "We better get some rest while we can. It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

I shrugged and to his surprise (and my vanity assures me, pleasure), I stripped down to my underwear and got into bed. Modesty has never been my forte.

Tomorrow was going to be a busy day indeed.

[Ron Caliburn]

I know of at least one Fed who's used the signs to help communicate. Big thing is that the signs seem to be something the paranormals don't pick up.

[Grace]

I wonder if that applies to aliens as well, Ron?

Anyway, that night, I dreamed.

I dreamt of my father and the times we had together. I dreamt of him teaching me to shoot and to fight. It was important to him that I be a survivor so he tried to ensure I'd have the skills to make it in life. Something about it didn't feel right. I don't normally dream my memories, you know? There may be elements from my past but not relived events in vivid detail.

Some of the lessons involved dealing with the government.

“We deal with organized crime a lot darlin,” he told me once when we were cleaning our weapons, “but tonight's job is for the government so we've got to be extra careful.”

Being careful around the mafia only made sense to me. To my young mind, they were the 'bad guys'. While I knew we had to the police for obvious reasons, I still thought of them, along with fire fighters and ambulance drivers as the good guys. And the government brought us these people so they must be the good guys too, right? “Is it because we're criminals, Da?”

“That's only part of it, darling.” He ruffled my hair. “Thing you gotta remember about government is that they're just like a syndicate, but with better PR. They collect money from the people that the people gotta pay. Sure some of that money buys services for the public, it ain't nothing but bread and circuses though. Part of their PR. Most their money goes into keeping hold of their power and competing with rival syndicates for a slice of the pie.”

When he put it like that, it sort of made sense.

“Here's the problem, darlin,” he continued. “Most of the syndicates we deal with know they're criminals. Them gangsters working for the government? They're true believers. When a mobster stabs you in the back, its just business. When one of them government boys do it, they believe they're doing it for the greater good. They're twisting that dagger on a divine mandate from god, the king or the people. Whatever their particular motivator happens to be. To them, you're just a mercenary and scum. It's their duty to screw you over, it don't matter how much of a help you've been to them. You don't believe in their mandate, just the money. In some ways, they'll see you as worse than whatever problem you're solving for them.”

It was heavy stuff for a young girl to be hearing. I didn't understand it all right away but I listened and I remembered.

I woke up and rolled to my side. Mr. Blue's bed looked unslept in. He was sitting at the desk, working on his laptop.

Dedicated.

A true believer.

He paused in his typing, “you awake? Good. It's time we were on our way.”

How the hell did he do that?

“Haven't you slept?” I asked as I sat up in bed and stretched.

“I had a nap.” He closed the laptop.

I noticed then that he had changed from his suit and tie ensemble to an outfit that more closely resembled the one he had provided me. It was then that I noticed something I hadn't before. He was a better put together then most suits I've seen.

He loaded up on weapons as though he was about to assault a fortress. One large pistol went into a shoulder holster. I assumed that was the one I had heard earlier. A second pistol of a type I had never seen before went into a holster strapped to his thigh. His tac vest had a bayonet and one of his boots had a knife sheath. Naturally there were plenty of ammo pouches. Out of one of the cases he pulled a what appeared to be a customized AR.

As he was going through his function test, he paused to look over at me. “You going to get dressed or just stare at me all night?”

Smug bastard. I'd have to keep an eye on him, alright.

[Ron Caliburn]

I think our fathers would have gotten along . . . if they didn't kill each other.

[Grace]

I think our fathers would have gotten along . . . if they didn't kill each other.

I agree.

But neither of our fathers were nice men, were they?

[Ron Caliburn]

Their children didn't wind up as particularly pleasant people either.

[Cybermancer]

As he was going through his function test, he paused to look over at me. “You going to get dressed or just stare at me all night?”

Smug bastard. I'd have to keep an eye on him, alright.

Doesn't seem like you to sit around in your underwear, watching a man gear up.

Or was this Mr. Blue one of those pretty things you're so fond of?

[Grace]

Ron,

Touche.

Cyber,

Our relationship was strictly professional.

In any case, I was soon geared up myself. Mr. Blue believed he had an idea where Mr. Grey had gone to ground. Our job was simple. Find him and kill him. I was to provide over watch while Mr. Blue attempted to flush our prey out to where I could get a shot at him.

So I took up my position on a high rocky outcropping that gave me a pretty good view of the area we were operating in. We kept in contact with radios that Mr. Blue provided. I waited as the morning sun began to peek out over the mountains. Below me, mists rose up.

“Black, this is blue. I'm on his trail.” His voice interrupted a birds spring song. “We are moving east to west. Should be in field three in figures one-one minutes.”

I turned my gaze to the area we had designated as field three. I observed through my binoculars. As expected, two figures emerged from the closed woods and into the open area. A smaller one led the larger one. I couldn't quite get the first one into focus.

Setting down the binoculars, I zeroed in on the area with my scope. I found Mr. Blue easily enough. He was in the middle of the field and had stopped his forward progress. It seemed as though he was arguing with someone.

Panning my scope over, I was surprised to see who Mr. Blue was arguing with. There, clear as day was my father.

What was he doing there? For some reason, it seemed impossible to be able to see him there. I couldn't quite think of why that might be. He was arguing empathically with Mr. Blue.

“Black, take your shot!” It was Mr. Blue's voice. My fathers face was in my cross hairs.

I panned my rifle again.

“Darcy! Take your shot!” Was it Mr. Blues voice or my fathers?

Mr. Blue wasn't about to wait on me. He was drawing the strange weapon in his thigh holster.

He was levelling it at my father.

I took my shot.

[Cybermancer]

So who died?

[Grace]

No one died.

I missed my shot. There was a high pitched pinging noise that suggested a ricochet shot. I saw the tell tale plume of dust between Mr. Blue and Mr. Grey where my round finally went to ground.

Mr. Blue winced so badly, he fell back on his ass.

Mr. Grey just took the opportunity to run.

I tried to focus on Mr. Grey in my scope but I just couldn't get a bead on him. His image was indistinct, blurred at the edges. Occasionally, he seemed to actually be in two or more places at once. Like he had multiple after-images of himself.

"Darcy, what the hell happened there?" It was Mr. Blue contacting me over the radio.

"I... I don't know." I responded, "I think maybe he somehow got into my head."

There was a long pause before he responded again, "I think we're done for the day. Let's fall back to the RV."

The morning sun had burned away all the lingering mist by the time we met again. "Sorry about that."

He shrugged it off, "my fault. I should have prepared you for this better." He opened the rear door of his vehicle so we could stow our weapons. "You were probably far enough away that he couldn't directly touch your mind. That means he got in at some earlier point. Probably planted some post-hypnotic suggestions. You have any funny dreams last night?"

Stowing my rifle in its case became my excuse to pause. "Yes," I finally said as I locked it, "about my dad."

On the way back to our cottage, I told him about it.

"Bugger must have gotten a fix on us at the house yesterday." Mr. Blue commented with a frown. "Which means he followed us closely enough to get into your head while you were dreaming and without either of us noticing."

"That's a scary thought." It actually made me shiver. I'm not fond of the idea of anyone or anything inside my head. I've had some bad experiences.

At the cottage, Mr. Blue broke out some gear I didn't recognize. It included a helmet with wires jutting out of it and a bunch of electrodes he had to place on strategic locations on my body. He took no liberties and his touch was antiseptic and sterile. Like a doctor. At least professional doctors.

Then he had me look into a screen. Across the screen, sentences would scroll by. I had to read them as they flitted their way across my consciousness. Above the screen was this weird strobe like thing. It flashed once for every word I spoke. Usually I only had to read a sentence once but occasionally he'd make me reread one or two, here and there.

I don't remember the words exactly. Mostly the gist of them, I think.

It started out sort of like this:

Your mind is a chalk board. Someone has been writing on it. Wipe it all away.

It was more than that but that was the gist. Afterwards, I felt strangely empty. My thoughts were clear, like trying to tune in a radio station on an analogue tuner. There's always static until you find that 'sweet' spot. Mr. Blue found my sweet spot.

Once he was sure I was no longer under anyone else's influence (he made some comments about a lot of folks mucking about in there), he went about attempting to ensure it wouldn't happen again. At least for the remainder of our mission.

It went sort of like this:

Your mind is a fortress. You alone hold the key. Hide it.

Afterwards I was filled with confidence. I was absolutely certain that there was no way anyone would ever get into my head again.

Mr. Blue explained that the effects I was under were completely temporary. The 'static' would eventually get back in. My new defences would erode. But for now, I was my own person, inviolate to outside influence. I could only hope that Mr. Blue was as professional with my mind as he was with my body.

[Ronin]

This reminds me of stories about the Chinese government engaging in psychic research.

I have also heard stories of gifted inventors who could create psychic effects with their machines. I've never encountered such a device myself, but would be interested in doing so.

[Grace]

This reminds me of stories about the Chinese government engaging in psychic research.

I have also heard stories of gifted inventors who could create psychic effects with their machines. I've never encountered such a device myself, but would be interested in doing so.

Dude, that Chinese thing is like, right out Children of the Corn or whatever.

Mind reading machines is just as creepy.

Anyway, the next night found us bush bashing.

Apparently Mr. Grey had his spacecraft stashed someplace in the mountain. Where exactly was uncertain but if he made it before we caught him, he would escape.

"Would that be such a bad thing, though?" I asked after some thought, "won't he leave and become someone else's problem?"

"Or resource to exploit." Mr. Blue countered. "Besides, this is humanities planet. He has broken our laws and must be made to answer for them."

"Why'd you hire me if you want to arrest him?" My job had been pretty explicit. I was supposed to shoot Mr. Grey.

"I'm not going to arrest him," his voice and features were cold. "I'll deal with him the same way I would any organism that proved itself a incorrigible threat to human life. Virus, mad dog or psychotic alien invader, the answer is the same for all of them. Extermination."

"A couple of weeks ago, I didn't even really believe in aliens." I shook my head, "and here you are. You not only believe in them, you want them exterminated."

He stopped in his tracks, "no." Then he turned to face me, "they're like people. Some are good, law abiding folk. Some are murderous psychotics. This one is wanted by his own people. They would like us to extradite him yet at the same time they trespass in America's airspace and generally refuse to acknowledge the sovereignty of this planet's nations. Humanity is little more than primitive aboriginal savages to them. They need to be shown that they can be brought to justice-our justice-when they come here. They need to be shown that we will bring them to justice."

"Let Justice be done though the heavens fall." I don't know where I first heard it but it seemed appropriate to the situation.

"Fiat justitia ruat caelum. It was a Roman legal term, circa 40 B.C.E. and refers to the belief that justice should be carried out despite the consequences." He sounded like some sort of professor. "But let me assure you, the heavens fall more often when justice is not done than when it is. And I believe that to be the case here."

"So when are you going to arrest me?" I asked, only half joking.

"I already told you, I don't have enough evidence to make it stick." His reply was without hesitation.

"Bullshit. You're willing to execute Mr. Grey because he's an organism that is a danger to humanity. Because he's a psychotic murderer. What makes him different from me?"

His dark eyes met mine, "you have changed your ways. As long as you're on the path towards redemption, I've promised to leave you be." Then he took a step closer to me, "but kill another human being and I'll drag your ass in. If I have to tear down heaven and earth to do it."

I didn't give an inch. "I'd rather die than go to jail."

He shrugged before turning around and continuing down the game trail. "Your funeral."

[Cybermancer]

"Let Justice be done though the heavens fall," is often expressed with a negative connotation.

This may be, because of the tale of "Piso's Justice."

The story goes that a Roman legionaire returned from a period of leave without his comrad in arms. He was taken before Piso, a Roman governor and law maker. Piso announced that if the legionaire could not produce his comrad, it could be presumed that he murdered him and would therefore be executed for his crime.

Time came for the legionaire's execution but just before the blade fell upon his neck, the comrade arrived. The Centurion in charge of the execution halted the proceedings and brought both men before Piso, expecting a pardon to be issued.

Instead, Piso ordered all three men executed. The first because the sentance had already been delivered. The Centurion for not carrying out his duty. And finally the lost comrad for causing the deaths of two innocent men.

This of course, is not justice. While technically correct and within the edicts of the law (at the time), it is not morally correct. Justice is related to the law but it is not the same thing. The law seeks justice but justice is not dependent on the law.

When law is blind to justice, it fails in its purpose.

When a person pursues the exact letter of the law without regard to compassion, they fail as moral beings.

I would suggest then, that this "Mr. Blue" person has at least some compassion for Nemesis.

As inexplicable as that may be.

[Grace]

I've just received a reminder from Mr. Blue that the contract is not complete until I wrap this up. So that is just what I'm going to do now. He may have some compassion for me, but his purse strings are ruled by the letter of the law.

We found Mr. Gray's spacecraft. Or rather, Mr. Blue did, using a device that looked like some sort of sci-fi Geiger-counter. When we found it, it was invisible. It was there though, because he was able to knock on it. He even got me to walk up and touch it. It was surreal to feel a smooth surface that I couldn't see. Like touching the most perfect glass ever.

Then I followed him as he moved back from it, about 100 feet or so. He instructed me to get behind him as he pulled some weird gizmo out of his pack. He tossed it at the ground by the ship and there was a bright flash. Then the spaceship became visible.

It was triangular in shape, though Mr. Blue called it a Delta wing. There was no obvious means of propulsion, you know, like jet nozzles. The hull was smooth and black and there was what appeared to be three lights at each corner of the craft. There were no windows and the landing gear were three pads projected from the hull of the ship. There did not appear to be any sort of ramp or cockpit or other means of gaining entry.

This did not deter Mr. Blue.

He placed a box like device with a key pad on it. I assumed it was some form of explosive and backed up a respectful distance. He punched sequences into the key pad. Then he would read the LCD screen and punch in a new sequence. A couple of times he moved the device to new locations on the craft. Finally, he accomplished whatever it was he was trying and a ramp dropped down from the middle of the craft.

"Wait here," he told me before walking up the ramp.

I was torn between curiosity and caution. Here was a real life UFO and he didn't want me to look inside. But what would I see if I went up that ramp? I'll never know. He wasn't up there more than a few moments before he was running back down the ramp.

"You should be trying to keep up!" He yelled as he passed me.

Caution won and soon I was passing him.

There was a flash and then a wave of concussive force that knocked me to the ground. When I got my breath back, I looked behind me. Mr. Blue was pulling himself up off the ground. Beyond him, there was a new crater.

"What the hell?" I asked.

"I blew the reactor," he said as he brushed himself off. "Now he can't escape and I don't have to worry about his technology falling into the wrong hands."

I stood and brushed myself off as well. "Won't your superiors in the government be pissed that you didn't capture it for them?"

He paused and studied me for some time. It seemed as though he was carefully selecting his words. "My arrangements with the US government do not include acknowledging them as being superior in any way."

I stared at him and blinked a few times. "You're a fucking mercenary."

[Grace]

A slow smile spread across his face, "that is one way of looking at it, I suppose. Though I am not doing it for the money and I do have a badge."

"So wait, why are you doing this?"

"I do it, because it needs to be done. I work with the government because I do believe in law and order. Just as importantly, they provide me with certain tools I require. Like a badge and the authority that comes with it. In exchange, I give them certain things they want. What, I'm not at liberty to discuss."

"So am I just a tool for you to use, as well?"

"Isn't that the role you've chosen for yourself? Someone puts the money down, you take it and then do their bidding? Seems hypocritical to get huffy when someone does just that."

I really, really didn't like him just about then. Maybe it was because he was making me think about what I was doing and why. I hadn't come here looking for a job. I had come here because I thought it might be interesting to look into and see what I could find. But then he had contacted me and got me looking harder. Now here he was calling me out for accepting the contract. What was his game? I still don't know what he was playing at.

There was a beeping noise and Mr. Blue pulled out one of his gadgets and examined the display. "He's coming."

From that point on, we were both professionals. We moved quietly through the wood, communicating with hand signals and body language. Swiftly we homed in on our target.

We caught sight of him but somehow he saw or sensed us and started to run. His gray skin reflected the sunlight that came down between the leaves in the trees. His dark eyes showed fear when he looked back at us.

Darting between trees, neither of us took a shot at our prey, waiting for a clear shot.

Then Mr. Grey tripped and fell. In a flash, we were on top of him.

I pointed my pistol down at him, aimed between the slots that I assume were his nose.

Mr. Grey seemed to be concentrating and then looked at me expectantly. When he realized that what ever he had been trying had just failed, fear etched into the features of his face. "Please, mercy!" His voice was melodic with just a hint of static.

Down the barrel of my pistol I stared down at him. He trembled before me. There was a time this would have made feel powerful.

I glanced at Mr. Blue. He seemed to be waiting though he was still covering Mr. Grey.

I looked back at Mr. Grey. His eyes were glossy and wet, "please, mercy."

Cursing, I raised my pistol. "I can't. Do you your own dirty work."

He raised a brow. "So... you are capable of compassion."

The report of his weapon startled me. "But while it does you credit, it is misplaced in this case."

At least Mr. Grey's whimpering had ceased.

Mr. Blue began pouring a white powder over the alien's corpse. When the powder hit, it began to dissolve the body. As he did so, he explained that with Mr. Grey's powers, no court could convict him and no prison could hold him. While in the end he had pleaded for mercy, he had never heeded such pleads himself.

Despite having not pulled the trigger, Mr. Blue assured me that he would honor the contract if I related the story of these events here.

He didn't seem overly concerned with warning anyone about the alien menace. Or about revealing government secret operations.

His motives remain as alien to me as Mr. Grey's.

[Cybermancer]

Given that it appears he did not require your assistance in accomplishing his stated goals, then having you close by must have been among his unstated goals.

Perhaps he was seeing what you were made of.

Do you suppose he was happy with what he discovered?

[Grace]

Given that it appears he did not require your assistance in accomplishing his stated goals, then having you close by must have been among his unstated goals.

Perhaps he was seeing what you were made of.

Do you suppose he was happy with what he discovered?

I don't know. Maybe.

I hope so?

[Hannah]

Not that I was testing you Dar, but I give you high marks for your performance in the Compound.

Hannah

[Cessiel]

Things have not gone as I have forseen.

It is Nemesis, not Mr. Blue who should have killed Mr. Grey.

Mr. Blue should not have been there at all.

[Ron Caliburn]

Surprise, the future usually is.

[Grace]

Things have not gone as I have forseen.

It is Nemesis, not Mr. Blue who should have killed Mr. Grey.

Mr. Blue should not have been there at all.

Mr. Blue has asked me to pass a message unto you, Cessiel. After he explained it's meaning to me, I was happy to do it, free of charge. You best not let me see you, boyo. I might just try to shoot you in the face.

You'll have to forgive him Mr. Caliburn. Unlike Mr. Geppetto, Cessiel is upset to see his puppet's strings cut.

I can't help interjecting that it was the Blue Fairy that cut Pinocchio's strings. Just saying.

But this does help explain a few things to me. Like why I felt compelled to investigate this situation to begin with. UFO's and little green (or Grey) men aren't my normal thing. But I did feel like something was pushing me in this direction.

And now I know why. Certain people, such as Cessiel have been mucking about in my head. That's all gone now and I'm my own woman now.

[Chalice]

I'm just going to say this: when a strange man gives me a present, he wants something in return.

Are you your own woman, Nemesis?

[Grace]

I'm just going to say this: when a strange person gives me a present, they want something in return.

Are you your own person, Nemesis?

There. Fixed that for you.

Of course, without the blatant sexism, it just sort of comes off as bitter and cynical, doesn't it?