MK Ultimate

November 20^th
San Francisco

          Eric Loupe glanced in the rearview mirror, looking over Johann and Evan. His eyes returned to the road; he tightened his hands on the steering wheel, jaw set tight and his lips pinched shut in a thin line of threat.

Karla, with her feet up on the dashboard, shifted her cellphone to her other ear, giggling softly. "Exactly!" she exclaimed, adding, "But then I said that it really doesn't matter! Now, darling, don't worry about that wife of yours. Things will come around." She paused to listen to a rebuttal then said, "You found out she's been faking orgasms EVERY DAY? So what! Doesn't matter, sweetie; you still had sex. ...Every day!" 

Evan leaned close to Johann and whispered, "She acts as old as she looks. Are you sure she's the 'Mutant Messiah' like Hope Summers? I'm not trying to die, man."

Karla continued her banter over the phone with a tone of delight. "I got so angry at the neighbor playing his stupid foreign music that loud, I changed my Wi-Fi router name to show as, I.C.E. Surveillance Van! Two days later the music stopped and I've not heard it since!"

Johann winced and turned back to Evan with a shrug. "Dear God, she sure yacks like a teenage girl, though, doesn't she? But yeah, she's the one. Trust me."

Eric clenched his hands, knuckles white, causing the vinyl-like coating of the steering wheel to creak softly.

Karla shifted the phone back to her other ear once more then said, "Well, darling, they can't all be me! Just... relax, okay?"

The succubus' tone changed, becoming more personal. "Hon, she still loves you or she wouldn't be talking to you. She wouldn't be trying. She would stop caring. ...What?  Oh, you want that old passion back?  That's the easy part, babe. Make her feel the way you made her feel when you first started seeing each other. You know what I mean? Where everything was fresh, new and you went out of your way to try and to plan things out and to surprise her with little gifts - nothing necessarily expensive... just things that show you were thinking of her when you were out and about during the day. Bring home dinner and some of those inexpensive flowers they sell at the grocery store. Just a sign that she can see that tells her 'I mean something to you.' It goes a long way. Here's another secret. Don't just do it once or twice a year. You need consistency. Something once a week to brighten up the house, add color on the kitchen table. You wanna save your marriage? Romance her."

Karla paused for effect, licked her lips then, in a slightly lower tone, added, "And stop calling me for a fuck. You had a low streak, I get it. Now get back in the game with her. If you're attaching yourself to me, then you won't treat her the same way. Make her your one and only. Just try it. If it doesn't work out... well, you know my number."

No one spoke. Karla finished her conversation and ended the call.

Eric cleared his throat. "You actually told one of your boy toys to put his wife first? I thought you feed on people."

"Yeah." Karla shrugged with a wan smile. "But deep down, I'm a hopeless romantic." She pushed the phone into her purse and sighed almost wistfully. "Something I've never had and will probably never get because I need a man capable of satisfying himself for me every day. And men eventually get bored of 'every day,' with the same woman. Then I wouldn't get any. Then there would be no spark, and I'd starve."

"Touché." Eric frowned thoughtfully then asked, "But you would want a normal romantic life if you could have one?"

"Yes, Eric, honey, I'd love to have the kind of romance that inspires great poets to speak of their love. I don't expect the man to be artistic about how he expresses his feelings, but I want a man who gets it. Then again, I'm in the car with three men and I doubt any of you get the meaning of love."

Johann sighed softly. "Odd conversation for the time and place. We're going to rescue Donovan and fight for our lives, here."

Evan, sitting adjacently, said nothing.

Karla turned back to Eric and asked, "So what the hell happened earlier, anyways?"

"It's complicated."

"Why don't you start from the beginning, then?"

Eric frowned again.  "Well..."

X

X

Several Hours Ago...
Warehouse in San Francisco...

          "You're making outstanding progress," said Donovan Loupe. He brought his hand up then clenched it into a fist. A tendril of shadow came up from behind the mannequin. It split into a 'Y' at the end. One appendage held the dummy steady; the other wrapped around its fake head and ripped it clean. "You see? Think of such as though curling thine own fingers around something from far away.  Consider the obsidian tentacle as an extension of thy grasp. Now, try again."

Eric focused and held his hand outwards. Slowly, a black mass emerged from behind the mannequin but instead of curling back around the headless object, the midnight arm of shadow knocked it over. "Dammit!" he said. The arm swatted at the dummy, sending it clear to the ceiling. It bounced across the floor halfway across the warehouse. "I'm not even subtle about it. I just flatten everything."

"No, Eric.  Thy efforts show true progression," said Donovan. "Thee, ah, modern term I seek is... 'Loosen up.'  I... You are working on thine shadowplay.  I needs must work on mine speech pattern."  Donovan offered a weak smile. "It vexes me."  He moved behind Eric and took him by the shoulders then gave him a stern shake.  "Relax thy body.  I mean not your stance - I meant such in a figurative way. I swear I'm working on mine... my modern speech pattern."

"You meant to say chill out, then. I just want to be good at this. I feel like it will get my confidence back."

"Wait until I teach thee how to become a shadow," Donovan said with a grin, adding, "In the exercises, earlier, where I had a hostage mannequin and a dummy attacker, you didn't harm any of the friendlies. Not a single one. 'Tis a huge step in a very short time, Eric. The reason I am jumping up to something more advanced is because you've made such rapid progress on the lessons I've bestowed upon you already."

"But you're an expert at this," said Eric with a sigh.

"Indeed.  However, it took me over a year of wielding shadows before I could pick up objects or display some measure of dexterity. It shall come, but only with patience and practice."

"Did you have a teacher to show you the ropes?"

"Nay, I had to figure it out on my own."

Eric grinned faintly. "If you had my teacher, you'd probably have aced the whole lesson by now. He's really patient."

Donovan offered a genuine smile. "Thank you. 'Tis humbling, Eric.  I'm quite pleased thou art not as crazy as the news made thee to seem. Let's take a break. There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah?  Are you going to ask me about that thing with the bank?  I've been looking into it," Eric said.  "To the best of my ability, I've tried reaching out to every connection I can without making a lot of 'noise.'  I found a psychologist who used to work for a program called MK Ultra, a program where the CIA was experimenting on brainwashing individuals to see if hypnosis could create political assassins.  It was only partially successful, but... the doctor worked to help the CIA volunteers return to normal society after the trials."

"What did you learn from him?" asked Donovan.

"He had a lot of answers, but... some of them only raised more questions.  I've a lot of animosity for the government.  I don't like the idea of political conspiracies.  That's not right - the government should only govern with consent of the governed.  But modern governments consider that radical and dangerous thinking." Eric sighed and sat down on a stool and reached for a pitcher of tea.  He filled up a cup and drank from it then sighed.  "It's disgusting.  Anyway, the doctor suggested it is possible that I pulled a gun and shot those people because I was conditioned to do so.  If that's true... it's scary.  The doctor suggests I go through extensive psychological evaluation and possible deprogramming.  He said if it was anything like MK Ultra, the programming and deprogramming have to be done exactly the way I was conditioned to learn, and if the exact steps are not followed... then deprogramming won't work.  The problem is, we don't know how I was programmed to begin with, so we're going to take things slowly." 

"And the doctor will maintain your anonymity, Eric?  The money I've given you was enough to buy his silence?"

"Yeah, he swore he wouldn't tell anyone that I was the guy from that security video.  And someone high up has suppressed the video on a Government level.  It's even been banned from the internet, siting that it is part of a confidential investigation or some such." Eric grimaced. "Everything I've read online suggests that hypnosis cannot force you to do anything against your moral or ethical code.  You aren't supposed to be able to hypnotize someone to assassinate people, or commit suicide."

"I see.  The government surely has done more mental programing than simple hypnotism, young man.  Listen, there is something else I wish to speak upon with thee."

"Oh.  You weren't going to ask about my... situation huh?  Okay, well... sorry.  I just assumed.  So what were you gunna ask?"

Donovan offered a wan smile then settled on a nearby bench and heled a cup aloft.  Eric filled it with tea then put the pitcher down.  Donovan took a sip and said, "Obviously you've come to realize we have the same ability and the same surname. We have similar facial features."

"We're obviously related, yes," said Eric with a firm nod. "Same last name means father's side."

"Quite so. I started tracing the genealogy. My grandfather had two sons. One of them was my father. The other was yours. The difference was... our grandfather was ageless, like myself. Your father came along sixteen decades after my father was born. They're brothers but they didn't grow up together. But still... that makes me your uncle."

"Where are our fathers now?"

"Both of them died in the scourge this past September. Your father's abilities never manifested. But as brothers... they lived together and they died together. I grew apart from my father after moving to America. He and his father, Justus, never got along; our grandfather was quite fond of America, you see. So when I moved here before the Gold Rush, my father thought I was following the footsteps of his father. Thus we stopped speaking."

"Is our Grandfather still alive?"

"I don't know. No way to find out. His name is Justus Loupe and his abilities far exceed my own. This may be a poor pun but... I can't even begin to hold a candle to his mastery of shadows. I've only met him twice and it was a humbling experience. My initial research suggests he may have been born around the early sixteen hundreds, same as Karla.  It's the first place I could find any mention of him in records left behind after the collapse of the Esoteric Council."

"She's a weird chick," Eric mused. "Extremely attractive, very smart... but she's not the kind of girl you bring home to your mother for family dinner."

"In my day, Eric, we used to have a saying... a woman will domesticate herself when she's ready, and only if she's met the right man. To be honest, motherhood usually brings about the necessary change in a woman, not marriage."

"Are you and her an item?"

Donovan laughed. "My how you butcher the English language in this day and age.  Somehow, speaking ignorance is preferred by the modern person.  To answer your question: No. I'm fond of Karla the way an uncle may be proud of an over-achieving niece. At one point, I thought I might have seen her as an equal. But something romantic between us is simply not possible; I'm too set in my ways. I've been in my late forties forever. She's been a teenaged girl forever. It would never work. But don't ever make the mistake of underestimating her. She's saved my life without breaking a sweat. The Government can't control her. The supernatural community couldn't control her. Aris Falcon doesn't stand a chance of taking her down. I'm not even sure she can be tamed."

"That's kind of hot.  'The rebel babe,' as it were.  She's a bit too hyper active at times, though.  And I grow anxious easily.  I have a feeling any relationship with her might frustrate me on a daily occasion."

"She's trouble. It's best you remember that about her."

"So, should I call you Uncle Don or something?"

"Oh, that's not necessary. Unless you want to. Just do whatever makes you comfortable and..." The door at the far end of the empty warehouse flashed brightly. The wall turned into a ball of liquid fire. Both Eric and Donovan went to the ground.

Fire rolled in across the ceiling and lapped at the left and right walls. The front entrance to the warehouse became an inferno beyond measure. It roared in their ears like an angry bear, making it difficult to hear anything else.

Men wearing fireproof suits walked into the warehouse holding small red cylindrical objects in their hands. They surrounded the two men and one of them opened the front of their bubble-shaped mask. "Donovan and Eric Loupe I presume? I'll be brief. You're both coming with me without incident. If you don't, then we will have no choice but to use these on you." He shook the little red object in his palm then displayed the white lettering on the front. "And trust me, gentlemen, you don't want that."

"What is it?" asked Eric.

Donovan glared at the canister then back at his nephew. "They're white phosphorous grenades. When they go off, the end result is somewhere between 'fireball' and 'thermite.' They work very well against shadows and shadow masters."

The man in the fireproof suit said, "We've cut off your only means of escape. You'll come with us and meet the doctor, or you'll both die right here and right now. We'll inject you with a fast reacting drug that will put you asleep for about two hours. You'll wake up at the lab. Again, if you resist... you'll die and some other supernatural will be given the honor to speak to the doctor."

Donovan glanced at Eric then nodded slowly. "Don't resist. This may be the chance I've been waiting for. I need to find out why that man is killing our kind."

"I'm not a fan of needles," Eric murmured. "What if I simply promised not to be any trouble?"

The man reached a hand out. Another man approached from the left and put something into the first man's hand. The soldier opened the box and took out a cellular telephone just as it began to ring. He answered it, activated the speakerphone option then held it towards Eric. "Here, it's for you, young man."

Donovan turned towards his nephew. The young man's eyes appeared to take on a slight green hue and the emotion disappeared from his face. "Eric?" No response. "Eric, can you hear me? Reply to me." Nothing. Donovan narrowed his gaze and turned his attention back towards the man with the cellphone. "What did you do to him?"

"The same thing as before - we've activated him. He's on standby. It's like being on deck before walking up to the plate. When we want him to swing for the fences, he'll swing for the fences. Right now, though, he's hyper focused and on deck."

"YOU sent him to South Africa with a gun? You forced him to kill innocent people!"

"No," said the man. "Doctor Falcon's affiliates did that. This isn't some supernatural mind control power. This is good old fashion Government tax dollars at work. The good doctor simply borrowed the activation key so that Eric would behave."

"Why not just drug him with the needle like you said? Why all the show and drama?"

"Donovan, you don't know anything about your little friend. He has a mortal fear of needles. Something about a childhood accident and having to stay awake while having reconstructive facial surgery. We couldn't wipe the ingrained defense mechanism against receiving a needle so... he won't be getting one. But you qualify." The man put the phone back in the box then took a syringe from his accomplice. "Hold still. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

Donovan Loupe adjusted his Windsor knot then unclasped his left cufflink. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve then put the cufflink into his pocket. He removed his right one and put it into his other pocket then held his bare left arm outwards. "You've set my warehouse on fire. I'll be sending you the bill." His eyes lifted to the wavering glow of the fire in the background then he looked back to his nephew. Eric's eyes, illuminated by the wall of fire forty yards away, continued to hold the green coloration. "You'd better not hurt him or let him hurt anyone else."

"Like you have a say in anything." The mercenary pushed the syringe into Donovan's arm, thumbed the plunger and waited. A moment later, Donovan slumped into the waiting hands of one of the mercenaries that created the circle around the two.

X

X

An hour later...

          Eric coughed and flailed as if drowning then rolled over and covered his face with his hands. He rubbed his palms against his face then looked up at a man with an empty cup. "Okay," said the younger Loupe in a soft voice. "Now what?"

"The doctor will be in shortly. Don't do anything stupid. Unlike you two sorry sacks of shit, Falcon is fireproof. It's one of his newest tricks. We gave your uncle a shot. He'll wake up any minute. Sit tight and don't be a hero. Doc Falcon hates heroes." The man walked out of the room with the empty glass and shut the door behind himself.

Eric rubbed his face again and murmured, "Finally," under his breath then crawled over to Donovan and began shaking him. "Wake up, man. Get the hell up. You missed my Oscar award winning performance. C'mon."

Donovan groaned then opened his eyes. "Groggy."

"Yeah, they gave you another shot to wake you up. You okay?"

The middle-aged man eased into a sitting position, rubbed his eyes then said, "They activated thee. Does't thou... Do... do you remember anything?"

"The tone. I suddenly remembered my training and felt clear as a bell. Like there were no distractions in my life. They thought they could give me some sort of commands but I still had my freedom of will.  Maybe they did it wrong... Anyway, I played along. Then I got out to the car and they played another tone and all the stuff I remembered about my training and my past... it was gone. I was back to remembering the shooting and everything after that. But... I rememberremembering the past.  They told me to carry you and lay you in the trunk. Then I laid here and pretended to be asleep until they splashed water in my face. We're still in San Francisco. I saw them installing signs outside. We're in some sort of night club that's under renovation. Actually, they took us down beneath the club. We're in some sort of laboratory and Doctor Falcon will be here shortly."

Donovan rubbed his face again then glanced around at computers and strange equipment on the far wall. He got to his feet with the help of his nephew then walked over to a cryostasis chamber. There were two more adjacent to the first. "Do... do you see these large empty tubes?"

"Yeah?"

"They're for people. From what I understand, they freeze said victim down around two hundred degrees below zero, Celsius. You don't age, thou art clinically dead." He moved to a control panel adjacent to the second pod and ran his fingers over it. "Then... you are thawed and resuscitated."  The panel lit up. "All glass touchscreen interface I see." His eyes moved over the layout of the controls. "It seems this can be used for more than just a cryogenic function. I see options here for nutrient solution and ...By the blood of Christ."

"What?"

"'Tis possible he's cloning people, as well."

"You know about all this stuff?"

"Eric, my obsession with science fiction began with Jules Verne. I've been alive for a long time. I might be wrong but I'm thinking Falcon uses these pods for quite a number of things."

An aloof voice came from behind. "You're not as anachronistic as I presumed, Donovan Loupe."

Eric and Donovan glanced at one another. Donovan adjusted his tie then rolled down his left sleeve. He gave a nod to Eric and, together, they turned around slowly to face Aris Falcon.

Trying to remain relaxed and casual, Donovan reached into his pockets, withdrew his cufflinks and replaced them one at a time. "Preference to speaking patterns doesn't necessarily mean I can't learn.  After all, I've finally replaced my abacus with a graphing calculator."

Falcon smirked. "Ah, humor. I'm glad. Some say that immortals can lose touch with humanity over time. Humor is a sure sign that one's humanity is still intact. So, how long have you been alive?" He stood in a small spotlight meant for the stasis chamber, so that only his face and shoulders were seen by the two men.

"Early eighteen hundreds, Doctor. I have to admit, you're not as scary as I thought you would be."

The tall doctor smiled. "Reputation is important. Perception is reality," said Falcon. "If people perceive that I am to be feared... then that is the reality of things. So I let people who haven't met me think I am a monster. ...Sorry to have disappointed you."

Donovan folded his arms overtop his tie. "You've slaughtered supernatural people by the hundreds. There aren't many of us left. Why spare me and my nephew?"

"Because your grandfather has outlived his usefulness. He's been dealt with accordingly." Aris lifted his hand to keep Donovan from replying. "Have you ever wondered why so many people are subconsciously obsessed with genes? Have you ever pondered genetics? Superior races?"

"Only for the sake of enjoyment in the realm of fiction," replied Donovan. "I like books."

"Splendid." Falcon moved closer to them so that the angled lab lighting, which illuminated his face, now covered the rest of his body. He wore an expensive tailored suit with an unbuttoned lab coat overtop.

He told them, "Genetic variables are staggering. We've not yet determined the limit of ways one can be changed, molded or created to be unique. We've not yet been able to understand why or how over seven billion sets of fingerprints have not matched, even by accident. Even two clones born in the same way, perfectly controlled by two identical tubes at the same time with the same growth pattern and the same DNA... they have different fingerprints and different retinas. Neither prints nor retina patterns have been duplicated anywhere in the known world."

Eric tightened his jaw. "Okay," he said softly, "We get it, the possibilities are endless and it's not something we can predict with math because there're too many variables. What are you getting at?"

"Pay attention, gentlemen.  There was a race of homo sapiens that mastered science in a thousand years' time," said the doctor. "They understood the variables and the markers and even created machinery that could only be controlled by, say, the house of a certain prestigious family. Interface with the machines went beyond fingerprints and retinal scans. Donovan, you had family members that apparently lived for hundreds of years, each. That means there is a great deal less dilution in your DNA. What we found was able to interact with your grandfather directly. He was able to interface with this timeless machine because it recognized his DNA as family - a relative of the family that owned this technology.  The 'House of Loupe' as it were."

"Shut the hell up with that crap," Eric snapped. "We have found dinosaur fossils. If there was some human civilization from before currently recorded history, we'd have found remains that prove it."

Falcon glared at Eric. "We have you nitwit. Eighty years ago, in Nevada. It never went public; the discoveries were controlled and kept quiet. Don't interrupt me; the grownups are talking, boy."

Donovan glanced at his nephew then back at Falcon and said, "You need someone to replace my grandfather? Just let the boy go. He's not even immortal."

"You don't know that," said Aris with a smile. "You aged until you were in your mid-forties, Donovan. I'm not concerned with the boy, he's been useful." Falcon shifted his narrowed gaze to Eric and said, "Although you should be dead by now."

"You did this shit to me?" Eric closed his hands into fists but kept his temper in check by gritting his teeth together. "You made me shoot those people?"

"Not directly, young man. You were selected because of your relationship to Justus Loupe. The program used you for three tasks and you were leant to me on and off for the last three years to operate some of the technology that belonged to your ancestors.  For a while, you were quite useful. Your grandfather decided to change his mind about this program. Eric, you helped us take him down."

"What??"

Falcon smiled, seeing his eyes so wide. "We used your genetic markers and peptides and wrote a program for the technology so that the next time Justus interfaced with it... it caused him to suffer a stroke and cardiac arrest. Even with injuries to his heart and brain, he didn't die. But for some time, he acted like a frail old man after that. Practically harmless. You knew him. He knew you. We decided that you outlived your usefulness and we gave you back to the program. A year later, they used you to kill people who would have led anyone to this project."

"I get it; I was a guard dog that drooled when they rang a bell. How did they use me to kill? I want to know what I don't remember."

Falcon shook his head with a sigh. "They did it by putting you in a bank with our investors; they staged the shooting. Your gun jammed. As a strange twist of fate, you experienced complete and total memory loss. You were hospitalized after your initial arrest, albeit briefly.  During that time, our project manager performed a scan of your hippocampus but it appeared ...scarred. We deduced the probability of your memories being irretrievable in the ninety percentile, so we decided to tie you up as a loose end the old fashion way. Drama."

"Excuse me?"

Falcon rolled his eyes. "...You were given to a smalltime drug pushing gang to be held until demands were met on their level, then you were to be executed as an accident. A footnote of some mobster's short, shallow life. But someone leaked information and Donovan, here, rescued you based on a hunch."

Eric lowered his eyes then lifted them, watching Falcon's posture and his body language. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Both of you are compatible to operate the technology, but we only need one of you. Eric, you've proven to be far from emotionally stable."

"What? I've not seen myself act unstable, if I was, I'd be attacking you right now."

"You've developed the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  It surfaces every now and then, that's why you were thrown out like trash... you're broken, boy."

Donovan furrowed his brows. "You said you corrupted this technology. So why do you need someone to replace Justus? This device shouldn't be an issue anymore."

"Don't be so small minded," Falcon snapped. "Your house was quite influential. Your bloodline can operate more than just the machine that was interfaced by Justus. Donovan, you are necessary.  So why not surrender yourself willingly and help me?  I know you're a scientist at heart.  I could use you later on."

"Only on one condition - you let Eric leave."

Eric glanced at his uncle then back at Falcon.  "What the hell is the deal with these... supposed people you're talking about?"

"They lived in The First Age," Falcon explained. "This isn't just some sort of scheme for me to have power. I'm trying to change myself to be able to interface with technology that was beyond earthbound. These people explored the stars. They were enlightened enough to keep their technology in the heavens so as not to contaminate their home world. That's why there is a startling lack of it here. I want to understand it all. Several artifacts around the world have been melted down or reshaped into new objects, then hidden. But when combined, these artifacts still have basic genetic properties that can be used to activate what we've found under the ocean."

"Objects don't have genetic properties," Eric said.

"That was part of the technology back then," said Aris. "There were objects that acted as keys. Those keys were broken down into pieces, then shaped, molded and, in some cases, forged into new objects, all of which were hidden around the world. I've been collecting these pieces and assembling them for quite some time, now."

"What makes you think I'll help you?" Donovan unfolded his arms and smoothed the lay of his tie. "You've murdered countless people."

"No, Donovan. My research has philanthropic outcomes, as well as human enlightenment as an end game goal."

"What happened to my grandfather?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this but I sent a group in to take him down. He was reportedly vaporized by a prototype UV photon weapon. I'm sorry, I've not heard from him since. My people believe he became a saboteur; I couldn't have my facility compromised.  So, will you take my offer?  I need your help, Mister Loupe."

"I'm not making a decision at this time," said Donovan. "I want Eric to be released from that government program and I want his files burned. I want you to submit your work files for my review. Then I want to go over it at my leisure. Then I want time to make a decision."

"You're stalling?"

"I'm not rushing into something I don't understand, Doctor. I don't trust you and I don't make hasty decisions. If what you're saying was true and my grandfather learned something significant that makes this project a risk, then I will not be part of it."

"I've seen no evidence of such, Mister Loupe."

Donovan shook his head. "I've read a lot more than Jules Verne in the last two hundred years. I have a fairly active imagination even though I keep it in check. I'm sure the possibilities are endless. God only knows what Justus Loupe found. If he determined that this ancient technology, if that's even true, was somehow responsible for causing people to die... then digging it up and abusing it could be dangerous for everyone. You, yourself, admitted that you don't know why he suddenly changed allegiances. I hardly knew him. For all I know, he was using you to get closer to whatever it is you two expected to find... then he double-crossed you and you got him back. I'm not ruling out any possibilities. However, my biggest stipulation to this situation is that you'll send Eric home safely and he won't be a pawn of the government anymore. MK Ultra and the programs like it are vile."

"The program to which you refer was called MK Ultimate.  The Government wanted to experiment with supernaturals to see if they could create super assassins.  Most people couldn't tap into their abilities while in a trance.  Funding was cut when USPRI was cut, after the Silent Inquisition occurred.  All participants were to be deleted.  Including you, Eric.  Which brings us back to the bank, my investors, and your gun.  The fact you used a shadow against the police has brought renewed interest in the program from the US Government.  However, your kind are thought to be dead, now.  So it doesn't matter anymore."

The younger Loupe ground his molars together.  "Uncle Donovan... Are you seriously considering a partnership with this guy?" Eric asked. "What about training me?"

Falcon unfolded his hands and began pacing near the two men. "Eric, my boy, your uncle was a scientist in his day. He didn't publish his research but he was a brilliant mind. To him, Jules Verne wasn't a matter of fiction or reality... it was a matter of eventuality. A look into the world of things to come."

"Another stipulation," said Donovan. "We're going to run this like a business. There will be a code of ethics. No more killing people to try and activate their long-dormant genetic markers. You'll explore alternative methods to figure it out."

Eric threw his hands out and said, "Donovan! He had me shoot his unofficial shareholders so he could throw ethics out the window! Don't you get it?! Falcon is still the bad guy here! This is where you need to rip his head off like you did with that mannequin!"

Aris turned to Donovan and said, "Just look at what I am offering first. Look at the files and tour the facility that we've unearthed. So long as you don't attack me or a group of people around the globe, I won't have any reason to fight with you. Make a decision and we can go from there."

"What's the catch?" asked Donovan. "Interacting with the technology drives the user crazy or some such?"

"That sounds absurd. These ancient people were refined, classy scientists. They didn't invent technology to kill until people in the European continents - slave labor nations - rose up and attacked due to their ignorance. They attacked the gods the way children sometimes attack their parents on a metaphorical level. Some of the enlightened humans left, others stayed and mingled with the population to dilute their DNA. Some stayed but didn't want to mingle. They wanted to remain as gods so they set about finding a way to return to greatness one day but it never happened."

"This guy is feeding you crap," said Eric. "Kill him and let's go."

Donovan lifted a hand to Falcon then walked towards his nephew. He put his arm around the younger man and moved away from the stasis pods. In hushed tones, he whispered, "I need to find out what Aris Falcon is doing so I can report back to my people, Methos and Steven. I need to play along. But I need you to be safe. If things get out of hand, find Karla Howard and bring her here to shut this down. Make a left on that road with the Carl's Junior, go to the third light then make a right. She's at the apartment complex with the stupid looking gazebo out front. Building is two-zero-six, her apartment is the only one on the top floor. Tell her what happened and she can forward this information to Steven and Methos - Karla knows his new name. I want you to practice what I've shown you and I want you to stay away from the American Government and ponder professional psychiatric help until you can break the activation command. We'll talk soon."

Eric made two fists then shoved his hands into his pockets. "I don't like it. I smell crap, here."

Donovan turned to Falcon and said, "Okay. I accept your offer. Not to help you... at least not yet... but your offer to make my own educated decision on the matter. How do I interface with some of this technology?"

Falcon withdrew a small syringe from his lab coat pocket and moved behind Donovan. "Justus said he nearly lost his vision and hearing the first time he interfaced with one of the machines. He said there must have been some sort of safety protocols for interfacing back in ancient times. That is an unknown variable now... so we learned that first-timers need a shot that will dull certain senses temporarily. It takes a day or two before the shot will go active. So by administering it now and resting, you'll be ready when we're ready to advance. That gives you time to read up on where we're at in the project.

Donovan narrowed his gaze then sighed. "I suppose if you intended to kill me, you'd have done it with the sedative from earlier."

"Quite right."  Falcon pushed the syringe into Donovan's neck, thumbed the plunger then put the needle away and waited. A moment later, Donovan dropped into Falcon's arms. A small team of mercenaries flooded into the room and worked swiftly to stuff Donovan into one of the stasis tubes then they turned their weapons towards Eric.

Aris smiled. "He'll come in handy in the future when we're ready to interface with that technology again, young man. And if we cannot wake him, we'll clone him.  Sorry your usefulness ran out, Eric, but in the end, it doesn't matter. It's your time."

"I fucking knew it," Eric snapped then cracked his knuckles and glanced around the room at the mercenaries. "Goddammit. I knew it. It was all a lie, every goddamn word."

"No, not every word. Just the part about leaving you alone. We can't have you telling people what we've found thusfar. We can't have you or Donovan talking to Steven or Methos. Yes, I heard your conversation; that's when I decided that Donovan will go into stasis. Sorry, Eric. You were a fantastic agent. Things would have been much easier if your gun didn't jam." Falcon cleared his throat then announced to everyone else in the room, "Kill him. But don't do it here. Take him up to the top floor and go towards the back. I don't want a mess in my lab and I don't want to tarnish Krys' new night club. Take him out and shoot him like the dog he was."

"Oh you're in serious trouble," said Eric with a grimace. Several mercenaries surrounded him, took his wrists and guided him out of the laboratory. "I'm going to find you and I'm going to come after you! I'm going to make your life hell! And I'm going to get my uncle and grandfather back! Then I'm going to...!" His voice disappeared once the mercenaries took him out of the room. The door slammed shut.

A girl moved into the spotlight, adjacent to Falcon. She looked over the man in the tube then smiled somewhat. "I recognize him from the incident at the hotel in Millbrae. He's friends with the succubus, Doctor Falcon. On a sexual level, I believe."

Aris brought a hand to his chin and looked over the shadow wielder in a thoughtful manner, studying the man through the glass bubble. He smiled inwardly then he looked over at Krys Monroe. "Interesting. I would have liked it if they had a child. I could have used the DNA in my research. Ah well, no matter. We have Donovan Loupe and we'll store him in stasis right next to Nichole Parker. Get him put away for now."

"Yes doctor." Monroe left the lab and headed back out to the main section of her nearly finished club.

Meanwhile, up on the top floor, Eric stumbled his way through a door leading to a stairwell. The sound of boots came from below; he ascended the stairs to the night club's roof. He hit the door leading outside then slumped against it. "It always frickin' works in movies," he muttered.

Eric drew his arm back then swung it like a bat. A darkened mass of shade slammed into the door, throwing it clear of its hinges. He bolted out onto the rooftop and hurtled over the air conditioning unit then slid to a halt. His eyes flitted over the edge, glaring down into an alley. "Dammit," he murmured aloud.

A group of men came up through the stairwell and poured out through the doorway. Eric turned around and balled his hands into fists. "If this is it, then I'm ready."

The leader of the group drew his weapon, a submachine gun of Belgium design, and moved forward. "End of the line, pal. You were a good guy; it sucks you've gotta die like this."

"You knew me?"

The leader blinked. "What kind of question is that? Everyone here knew you... KNOWS you."

Eric tilted his head then shook it slowly. "I don't know any of you. I don't even know myself or what I'm capable of. I don't know if I was a good guy or a cold bastard."

"Seriously?  Well, that's too bad.  We follow orders in this outfit."

 Loupe stepped up onto the ledge at the edge of the rooftop. "I just know that I was given a crappy hand and don't remember what cards were dealt. So do it already. Pull the trigger and end this crap."

"Step away from the edge, Eric. C'mon, it doesn't have to be all dramatic. Let's just make it clean and personal. Come over here."

"Clean and personal? What the hell - did I seriously associate with you jerkoffs?"

"Look, Eric, I just don't want to have to clean you up down in a public alley. Make it easier for everyone and get over here."

Loupe ground his teeth together in frustration then threw his arms forward. His adrenaline spiked and a massive wing of blackness rose up, knocking down most of the men on the roof. It struck the air conditioner and cracked the base, causing a short. Sparks danced from the unit. The mercenaries groaned and sat up, weapons drawn.

Eric waved his hands again but was unable to summon the inner energy to create another shadow. He waved his arms yet again - nothing. "Dammit."

"That all you got, newbie?" The group leader smiled. He glanced over his shoulder and told one of the soldiers, "We're done here. He's exhausted his abilities. Let's get the trainees in the practice room. I need volunteers to clean up the blood." He then turned back to Eric and flipped the safety on his gun. "Sorry, Eric. This is how it has to be. Nice knowin' you. Sorry you don't remember me but it's probably better that way." He lifted the weapon, gazed down the barrel then...

An enormous shadow arm came from behind the men. It knocked them flat to the rooftop, struck the air conditioning unit at a different angle, adding another crack to the base.  Sparks exploded all around it.

Eric Loupe found himself thrown backwards by the incoming shadow arm. His eyes widened. "Donovan?!  Wait!" He fell from the roof with a shout of shock and anger. The arm of shade followed him over the side, shrouding him. He hit something soft and descended into it. The shadow vanished from around his body.

Eric sat up in a paper recycling dumpster, having sank ten inches into the stacks of loose office paper from the neighboring building. Manila folders and crumpled Post-it notes covered his arms and legs. He groaned softly and sat up. Loupe peered over the edge, seeing some woman dressed as a waitress carrying garbage out to the next dumpster over. She grunted and tossed the bags into the trash then walked away, cussing under her breath about her new job and her boss, the club's cook. She went back inside and pulled the alley door shut behind herself.

Eric hoisted himself out of the recycling dumpster then climbed up over the metallic lip.  He dropped to the pavement with a grunt then hurried to the next block and flagged down a taxi to Karla's apartment. 

When he arrived, he found a black and white twenty-something couple in the living room.  It didn't take long to talk them into coming with him to rescue his uncle... 

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