As his thoughts swam upward into consciousness the pounding became louder, and with this clarity came a familiar voice surrounding it. "Come on, Mac.... open up. I really need your help..."

          Mac groaned aloud and his voice sounded shaky in his ears. He pushed himself to sit up and engage feet to floor, which he discovered, wasn't a fully functioning act when he nearly stumbled out of bed and sprawled forward. He kept his footing and hugging his arms to his bare chest, unceremoniously made his way to the door.

          ".... Mac, you've got to open this door..."

          Stifling a yawn, Mac peered through the peephole. Johnny Meyer stared back at him, then furtively looked from his left to his right.

          Uh-oh...

          Unlocking the door took more dexterity than he possessed at such an abrupt awakening, but with a few ill-placed words Mac was able to grant the singer entrance.

          Johnny entered in a whirlwind of cologne and soap. Though the light was dim in his room, Mac could still see the entertainer was dressed to the nines and ready for a night.

          "Oh thanks...please, shut the door, quick. Oz won't come in here - he gave me strict orders not to bother you. This is the last place he'll look I just - what the hell happened to you?"

          Standing in the threshold, his arms crossed over his chest, the Adept frowned as his slowly awakening conscious searched for memory. Images came rapidly - Calen, pain, headache, blood...and something that had come from inside his head.

          He saw the image of a pleasant, native-American woman with intense black eyes. In her hand she held the bloodied objects and a concerned look. I'm...it was in...my head. There were little metal things in my head.

          But...

          "Mac? Hey, dude...you need to sit down?"

          He blinked. Smiled. "Sorry...it's a long story."

          To his relief the singer waved a dismissive hand. "Hey, I understand. But right now, we need to concentrate on what's happening tonight. If you don't mind, I'd like to hang out here till I'm ready."

          "Ready for what? What's happening tonight?" Mac turned and walked hesitantly into the bathroom. The light illuminated more of his face than he cared to see and he squinted at first as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. Dried and caked blood decorated his heavily bruised face. His chin and cheek were a myriad of painful yellows, blues and blacks. Most of the blood clung to his lips, nose and chin. I look like a sloppy vampire that just got the shit beat out of him.

          Well...one part of it's true. He touched his chin. There was no pain, just as Doc had said there wouldn't be. He touched his cheek. Though that's going to be ugly for a while.

          "...a parties or so. Me and the guys want to do a show - somewhere, since ours was ah," he cleared his throat. "Interrupted." The singer appeared in the mirror standing beside Mac, looking a sight better than the Adept. "You look like hell." He snapped his fingers. "You need coffee." He grabbed the carafe from the complimentary coffee pot and filled it with water from the sink.

          Mac watched with detached interest, his head still full of jumbled memories of earlier...today? What time is it? He asked Johnny as much.

          "Some time after nine." The singer turned and filled the coffee maker.

          Nine?! Mac rubbed at his blood stained face. "I've been out for nearly six hours."

          "Uh-huh," Johnny sounded distracted, his full concentration given to the production of caffeine. "'I'd say you've got about half an hour before we head downstairs."

          "We?"

          "Yeah." He shoved both filtered coffee bags inside the machine then shoved the door shut. "I'm thinking we could hit the casino downstairs for a bit, then head out and hit a few clubs."

          Mac pursed his lips as Johnny smiled up at his reflection. "Have you noticed there are constructs all over this hotel? Their sole purpose right now is to watch me, you and Ortega?"

          "Yeah?" the singer shook his head. "Just get a shower and don't worry about it."

          Mac watched him turn and meander back into the living room of his suite. Well...a night out on the town with Johnny? What else do I have to do but sit here and worry about things up my nose?

          Fifteen minutes later, Mac emerged to the smell of coffee. He donned the complimentary robe and made himself a cup. Moving into the bedroom, he found several suits and picked a nicer one. The black pleated slacks fit as if tailored, and the white, raw silk shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. He slid the matching black suit jacket on. Then he began work on his unruly hair. After several minutes, he gave up, ran some gel through it and turned to look at Johnny who had stepped into the bedroom. "Okay?"

          "Yeah...but with the black suit-jacket, you need shades. Kinda does something for all that bruising."

          "Oh," Mac went to his nightstand and slid his Oakleys on. He looked back in the mirror. "Yeah...it makes me look less like a mugging victim and more like the mugger."

          Johnny laughed. "Let's go."

          Mac grabbed his Treo, his Smart Cards and his wallet. On a second thought, he reached into this nightstand drawer and pulled out the BFG.

          Johnny frowned. "We really don't need that right now."

          Mac thought about the things Doc had pulled from inside his head. "You might not, but I'd feel better with it."

          Johnny shrugged. "Suit yourself."

          Gold, silver, blue and red lights flashed as music piped in from hidden speakers. Mac followed the singer to the hotel's main casino. They stood on the mezzanine and leaned against the railing, an island in a sea of gamblers and posers. The librarian and the rock star; quite the odd pair.

          "It's all about the one," Johnny said softly. Mac was surprised he could hear him in the cacophony of buzzers and cheers, groans and yells. "It's about finding someone with a bit of potential- there, see that guy on the third machine by the fifth row?"

          Mac looked over his shades and spotted the guy. He was dressed in a bright pink and white flowered shirt, shorts and white, straw hat. "Okay."

          "Now, I'd say, he's on his last bit. He's been in town..." Johnny's eyes narrowed. "Oh, three days. He came in the hopes of making enough money to get his...daughter a car. He lost his job last week and hasn't had the nerve to tell his wife. He's here..." he smiled. "He's here on a business trip."

          Mac looked from Johnny to the man. "You...know this about him?"

          "Yeah, it's all there. In his pattern. Easy to see."

          Easy for you.

          "Johnny..." Mac began.

          "No, just watch." The singer sprinted down the mezzanine stairs, Mac behind him. Johnny wove around the guests to the pink and white shirted man. "Sir..."

          The man looked at Johnny questioningly. Mac noted his eyes were red-rimmed. "Yes...?"

          "Hi, Johnny Meyer," he shook the man's hand. "We're in town for a few days, and played some black jack over there," he turned and pointed to a table Mac hadn't noticed before. "We have a game going and wondered if you'd like to join in."

          "I'm sorry...I don't have enough..."

          Johnny grinned. "Yes you do."

          Mac looked down at the man's bucket of tokens...and blinked. He'd noticed the level of gold tokens to be closer to the bottom. Now the level was more even with the bucket's height.

          "Yes, I do." The man looked at Johnny incredulously.

          "Follow me."

          Mac stood in his spot and watched over his shades as Johnny led the man to the black jack table, set him up, shook his hand, then walked away.

          When he came back to Mac, the Adept put his hand to the entertainer's shoulder. "He'll win on average all that he needs and then some."

          "What the fuck are you?"

          Johnny smiled. "Needing some female companionship." He took Mac's arm and led him toward the bar.

          "Okay, see her there? Sitting at the farthest table, kinda back from the main show?"

          Mac removed his shades and tucked them into his jacket pocket. He spotted a nice looking blond seated in the back. He watched her movements, aware she looked out of place, vulnerable. Maybe a little afraid. "Yeah."

          "She has potential, Mac. Loads of it. Only she needs the confidence to express it. And tonight..." he looked sideways at Mac. "You should be the one to help her out."

          "Me?" Mac put his hands in the air. "I'm not into one night stands, Johnny."

          "That's not what I'm talking about. Look at her. She's visiting. She's alone. And I think..." he narrowed his eyes as he looked at Mac. "I think you could use a small bit of fun tonight too." His eyes widened. "No headache, huh?"

          Mac blinked. Headache? He put his hand to his temple. Doc had been right. The headache was completely gone. "No."

          Johnny moved to the bar and ordered a scotch and water. Once it came, he handed it to Mac. "Go. Make her night."

          "What are you going to do?"

          "I'm going to go over there..." he pointed to group of three ladies and moved away.

          What...the hell...am I doing? He straightened his shoulders and sipped his drink. It was made with the good, expensive scotch and not too watered down. It's not too late. I could go back to the hotel room...

          ...and do what?

          Worry? Pace?

          No.

          With a determined face, Mac made his way to the table.

          Her name was Sheila, and she was here on vacation. She'd come alone to the casino town, though her friends had told her to take someone. She had already taken in several of the sites, lost more than she intended on slot machines, and had decided to call it a night.

          "What about you?" Her eyes flashed as she looked at him. "You're dressed so mysterious - like a rock star or something. And..." she frowned. "I'm sorry. I just noticed you your face."

          Mac put a hand to his cheek. "Ah...don't mind those. I had a kickboxing...spar...this morning. I'm afraid my opponent got a bit carried away."

          "Does it hurt?"

          "No," he said honestly. "To answer your question, I'm here with a friend." Mac glanced around. He'd lost sight of Johnny, yet he was having a nice time talking to Sheila. She was real. Nothing faked. She was a sleeper in a magical sense, but as she talked, Mac began to notice what Johnny had said about her.

          She wasn't beautiful, but could be stunning. She'd been heavy once - obese, but thinned up on her own, so she had discipline and structure. She was whip-smart and he enjoyed talking Apple computers with her, delighted that she too knew SystemX. But through it all, he began to see a potential for Sheila - she could be more, if only she chose to be.

          There was a tap on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Johnny standing there. "It's time to go."

          Mac looked to Sheila. "Would you like to come with us?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them. How could you do that? You don't even know where Johnny's taking you.

          She looked timidly at Johnny and Mac grunted. "Sorry. Sheila, this is my friend Johnny Meyer. Johnny, Sheila."

          He took her offered hand and kissed it gently. Mac looked to the ceiling as Sheila giggled. "I'd be honored if you'd join us. We're only doing a bit of club hoping." He looked at Mac and winked.

          "Sure, I mean, I probably shouldn't, but..."

          Mac looked her in the eye. "We'll keep you safe. I promise."

          And somehow, he knew they would.

          The three stood in the hotel casino lobby. Constructs stood at sentinel posts. Again they were an island, and the constructs were the approaching hurricane.

          "Okay, Houdini," he looked to Johnny. "How do we get outside?"

          "Easy. They won't see us. We're going to walk through the door."

          "Right."

          The singer turned and looked directly into Mac's eyes. "No. I need you to say those words. Out loud."

          "You want me to..." Mac sighed. "They won't see us. We're going to walk through the door."

          "Good man. Let's go."

          And they walked through the doors and out into the front. Mac glanced back, expecting to see several of the men in white coming after them.

          No one followed.

          Johnny had Sheila by the arm and was leading her off to the right. Mac jogged to catch up. "How did you...they didn't....how did we...?"

          Johnny shrugged. "Does it matter?" He looked about parking lot as a long, custom-built Mercedes Limousine eased up along side them. "Our ride's here."

          "That's your car?" Sheila and Mac said in unison. They looked at each other and smiled.

          "Yeah. Let's get going."

          Inside, Johnny slid in behind the driver's seat. Mac took the back and Sheila snuggled in beside him. "Let's get a drink. Sheila?"

          She said rum and coke.

          "Mac?"

          "Something stiff."

          Johnny pulled out a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch, poured some into a glass and handed it to him. Mac looked at Johnny then took a swig. He nearly choked on the alcohol as it burned its way down his throat. "Thanks," he croaked.

          Sheila lightly tapped his back as he coughed.

          "You said strong." Johnny laughed and Mac swore he saw a twinkle in his eye. "Okay, we have to pick up Trevor and Kent. Let's head to the Venetian."

          Mac had never seen a building that pink before - and look good. Its interior rivaled even the Bellagio, in his opinion. The door guards waved at Johnny as they passed. The singer turned and looked at Sheila. "Ever been on the Gondola?"

          She shook her head, her eyes bright. Mac also shook his head.

          Just then two familiar looking young men stepped toward them. Mac knew their faces from the show the other night at the 57 club. He'd seen them onstage beside Johnny. Two young women, introduced as Vanessa and Kimberly, followed them. The singer pointed to each of the men in turn. "Sheila, this is Kent, and Trevor."

          Trevor, blond and looking as if he'd just walked off the cover of Playgirl, bent down to the young woman, took her hand and kissed it. "Nice to meet you."

          Mac looked over Trevor's bent form to Johnny. The singer grinned from ear to ear.

          Kent offered Mac his hand. "Nice to meet you."

          "Same. Caught your act at the club the other night."

          "You did?" Kent's eyes narrowed and he looked at Mac with a wider eye. "Ah..."

          "We were about to take a Gondola ride." Johnny said.

          Trevor looked at Sheila. "Why don't you and I take one while they wait?"

          Sheila's eyes widened even further and she looked at Mac. He shrugged. "Well, why don't we all go?"

          "You can sit with us," Vanessa and Kimberly said as they each took one of Mac's arms.

          After the ride, which Mac found quite relaxing, they piled back into the silver limo and headed out into the Vegas nightlife. They stopped inside of several clubs, and on each visit Mac was amazed at the numerous times the group was given all access and free drinks.

          What the fuck is this guy?

          The last club they entered carried a live band. Johnny led them to the bar where they once again received free drinks. Vanessa, Kimberly and Sheila then accompanied Mac to a reserved table near the front of the stage. The signature band of the night had taken a break.

          He looked around for Johnny, who had been at the bar talking to a man in a gray suit. Now there was no sign of he or Trevor or Kent. He leaned toward Vanessa. "Where..."

          The crowd perked up with shouts as the band walked back out to the stage picked up their instruments. The smoky haze hanging over the stage obscured their faces and Mac narrowed his eyes as he watched whom he guessed as the lead signal to the drummer.

          That guy looks like...

          The lights came on, and Johnny Meyer took the stage.

          The wail from the crowd as they recognized their local musical prodigy flowed from behind Mac and crashed into the feedback speakers as a wave hitting the shore. Mac put his fingers in his ears as he grinned. The girls were jumping up and down in their seats, except for Sheila, who turned to him.

          "Mac...you didn't tell me they were singers!"

          He shrugged. Slipped my mind. They're also mages, did you know that too? The drummer launched into a song as Johnny took the stage, a guitar slung low over his hip.

          Once over its initial shock, the crowd calmed a bit and enjoyed the music. Mac enjoyed it as well. I'm in a better mindset than I had been at the 57 Club. At least now I'm not worried about which is their last set.

          Well into the third set, Mac took up his third drink of the night. He paused the glass at his lips as something odd about Sheila caught his attention.

          She...glowed.

          It was subtle, and maybe only his mage-sight would see it. The light was soft and bathed her in a pure white light. She turned then, perhaps aware he was staring at her -

          She's beautiful.

          It was still the same girl he'd picked up at the Luxor. Same hair and eyes, same dress and smile. Yet...something subtle had changed. Grown.

          Blossomed.

          Am I seeing the potential that Johnny had mentioned? He returned her smile and winked. He abruptly heard her thoughts. Happy. Excited. Enthralled. Dream come true... And as he read those thoughts, he smiled to himself. I helped her. I did this. I made her happy.

          I helped make what would have been an ordinary night, special.

          Euphoria swept around him as Mac realized the glow about Sheila, also surrounded Vanessa, and Kimberly. It wrapped its light around the couple to his right, and the dancing girls to his left. Mac carefully put the drink on the table as he realized the glow was slowly suffusing every living thing in the club. And as it touched each person, their own light mingled with it and then carried itself on to the next.

          Magic... He looked at the stage. He's weaving magic.

          But what kind of magic?

          Does it matter? came Trent's voice in his head. It's good, and its natural. Let it be.

          He looked down at his own body. There was no glow. You need to relax... just... relax...

          Mac felt it seek him out, watched it as wispy tendrils of smoky white touched and caressed him. It infused him with confidence, something he was sorely lacking in. Was that what Johnny had seen in Sheila? The potential for confidence?

          You have so much potential, Maouri would say. You just need the confidence.

          He was also relaxed now, as he had been in Doc's care. The worries that plagued and taunted him through his waking life melted away, no longer important. Only Right Now mattered. Only the music mattered.

          The magic.

          For the first time in two years, Alan Christopher Cooper, was happy.

          After the show, the limousine took the little group to the home of Johnny's manager, Peter Stratton. The mansion, built atop a rather high hill, was teemed with people. Many were dressed to the nines while others meandered about in jeans and tee shirts.

          Stratton, the aging former Syndicate member Mac had read about on his VA database, greeted the singer with a shake of his finger. "A free show? Johnny...please. You can't keep doing that. I have to make sure you guys get paid."

          "You know already what I did?" Johnny seemed only marginally surprised. He watched a shapely redhead wiggle past. He looked at Mac, the only member of the group still beside him. "Peter, this is Mac. Mac, Peter Stratton."

          The promoter nodded at Mac and returned a firm handshake. "There's a clear T1 in the back room, near the library if you need it. Enjoy." With a final glare at Johnny, the man moved away.

          Mac's eyes widened as Johnny turned to him. "How...why....did he know...?"

          "He's Union, Mac. And there's something about you that just says... Adept. Don't know what. Might be the look." He smiled. "Now, get on out there and mingle. I need another drink and some food."

          Before he could stop him, the entertainer was gone in the crowds. Several women paused in front of Mac. He nodded at them over his shades, but moved away. Now what do I do to keep myself entertained? Sheila is now obviously with Trevor - and I have no idea where they got off too. Vanessa and Kimberly are on the prowl, and not my type.

          He shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his pleated trousers. Guess I'll go find my own trouble.

          Trouble never came. Instead he found a beautiful terrace on the top floor. It overlooked most of Vegas and gave a breathtaking view of the stars. Mac leaned forward, his elbows resting on the banister, a barely touched drink in his hand. Sheila had given it to him earlier, though he couldn't remember when.

          I can't seem to focus on time tonight. There's something spatially wrong with being around Johnny.

          The boy ain't right.

          "I see you found the good spot," Johnny came up beside Mac and leaned forward on the Adept's left. "Beautiful, ain't it?"

          "Johnny," Mac smiled to himself as he looked at his drink. "What the fuck are you?"

          "Nothing special. Just a guy who learned a long time ago he could do some pretty fun things. Had a knack for it, that's all."

          Mac looked around behind him. "No girl?"

          "Got one."

          Zydeco.

          He smiled. "She's a fine lady."

          "Yeah...she's the one for me."

          His smile faded. "Does she know it?"

          Johnny shrugged. "I guess she does."

          "Don't...don't leave it like that." Mac took a deep swallow of his drink. It was mostly melted ice, but the bite of the liquor woke up his senses. "Don't assume she knows how she feels. Always tell her."

          "Zydeco's not that easy to...well, you know. She's..."

          "She's not going. Oz said as much."

          Johnny nodded. "She's not happy about me going."

          Mac perked up. "After seeing what you can do tonight, I'm personally happy you are going."

          "Well, I'll probably not get the kind of reaction from Zydeco. She's having trouble with the whole sphinx thing. Me? Well, as you know, I'm kinda partial to them or it or what have you."

          Remembering the numerous missives the singer had received, reported by both his VA contacts and Miss Huang, Mac nodded. "So I've heard." He gave a long sigh. "On what I said earlier, don't leave with out telling her how much you love her. Let her hear it." He stifled a yawn.

          Johnny gave a slow smile. "I think it's time we head on back to the hotel. I'll go round up the others."

          Before he could leave, Mac reached out and staid him with a touch on his shoulder. "I just wanted to say thanks for tonight. I've really enjoyed it."

          The singer reached and clasped Mac's wrist. "Potential. It's all about the possibility, Mac. Do you see that?" He pointed to something behind Mac.

          The Adept turned and looked through one of the glass doors leading into the mansion's parlor. Sheila stood amongst a group of well-dressed men. She radiated confidence, charisma, and charm. And she was truly beautiful - a beauty that radiated from within.

          "She's already made seven contacts tonight, Mac." Johnny said. "She's increased her visibility in this city, and now has a job offer in New York. Did you know she was looking for something like that?"

          Mac smiled and looked back at Johnny. "No. But I know now that you did. You chose her and made her dreams come true."

          "We both did, Mac. We both did. Now, let's get back."

          No one complained about leaving - the time was early morning, somewhere near three. Trevor and Sheila sat together in the limo near the bar. Kent, Kimberly and Vanessa opted to stay at Peter's house. Mac and Johnny sat in the limo's back, their long legs stretched out before them, their arms crossed, their shoulders touching.

          Mac was lost in thought, though if asked, he couldn't remember what he'd been thinking about. He barely heard Johnny call his name. "Yeah...?"

          "Earlier...when you told me to make sure to let Zydeco know - you were speaking from inside. I know that. I take it this was something in your past?"

          Maouri's face came to him and the Adept closed his eyes. The pain was ever present, but her memory had ceased to bring tears to his eyes. He quickly told Johnny about his Awakening, about the MIBs that came to collect him, of how they killed his wife as he was pulled by Correspondence atop Stone Mountain Georgia. "I know she knew I loved her - but I feel guilty that I didn't tell her enough. And in that instant, when I put that phone to my ear," he sighed. "I saw her face - that look of incredulity. I've seen other Adepts use that sphere and so I know now what she saw then. I vanished before her eyes...I abandoned her at the moment of her death."

          "You didn't know, Mac. Jesus..."

          "Common sense tells me that's true - but I still see her face in my dreams."

          The two were silent for a time.

          "Mac...you said your father sent those MIBs. Your father is..."

          The question hung open in the air. Mac had kept his familial ties secret for so long. Now Calen knew his identity. It was obvious Huang knew. The dossier he'd received from Calen spoke in volumes to the inadequacy of his attempts to disappear. He looked at Johnny. "My father is a Progenitor."

          "Christ..."

          Mac looked back at his hands. "I have two brothers, who I assume are also part of the Union in some way. How or what convention, I don't know. My Mentor and his group in Atlanta learned what they could about the Coopers."

          "Your mother?"

          "I'm - I'm not sure about mom. I suspect she was, in some capacity. She was a biology major and worked for a bio-tech firm in Oregon, before she died."

          "Well, if she was a part of them, it'd be Iteration I'd assume. And your father?"

          Mac stared straight ahead. "Pentax."

          Johnny physically pulled away. Mac felt the entertainer's eyes on him. "Damn, man. I had no idea."

          "You're the only one that knows, besides Calen."

          "The Void Engineer knows this?" Johnny chuckled. The reaction surprised Mac.

          "He gave me dossiers on everyone - I assumed they were from the VE database." He shrugged. "Everyone except you, me, Oz, Paul and Zydeco are listed as terminated, just like Miss Huang said. Except for Maria..."

          "Maria?"

          "Nicholas' girlfriend. The one he zapped out of the Chicken Ranch?" Mac looked at Johnny. "She's dead."

          "Does he know this?"

          Mac reached up and touched his bruised cheek. "Yeah. He knows."

          "Oh man...that's who beat you up." Johnny shifted and sat up and forward, his elbows on his knees. Trevor and Sheila were oblivious to their conversation, having one of their on the other end of the limo. "You pick a fight with him?"

          "No," Mac scowled. "I wish people would stop saying that. You taken a good look at that guy? He may be young, but he's solid muscle." He put his other hand to his middle, the memory of the kick to his gut still sharp. "I ought to know."

          "Then how'd you two scrap?"

          "Oz."

          Johnny let loose a raucous laugh. "That big fucker... Sounds like him. I take it you met Doc then, huh? She usually patches his strays up. She's saved my worthless butt a few times."

          "Yes - so I've heard. Multiple gunshots, huh? Very interesting Lady." Mac smiled and made a decision not to bring up the items the Euthanatos had discovered. "Why are you going, Johnny?"

          The singer was quiet for a moment. He looked out the window, the passing lights illuminating his face. "Because I have too. It's where I'm supposed to be."

          "The Sphinx tell you that?"

          "No." He smiled. "I know it here." He pressed his middle. "Ever get that feeling? Wonder why you have to be somewhere, but you still know it? Kinda like having 'spidey sense' or something."

          Mac chuckled at the Spiderman reference. "Yeah...I do, Johnny. I do." He grinned at Johnny. "What the fuck are you?"

          "I'm your friend, Mac. Just your friend." The singer cocked his head to his shoulder. "But we have the potential, together, to complete this mission and save the world. Just as you have the potential to be more than what your father is - to be better."

          Potential.

          Oz and Zydeco, flanked by three constructs, stood outside the Luxor when the limousine pulled up. Sheila and Trevor vacated first and headed inside, but not before Sheila gave Mac a full, passionate kiss. "Thank you," she whispered, and disappeared inside.

          "Oh I am not gonna like this," Johnny muttered as he pushed himself out first.

          Mac looked out behind him and saw Zydeco's face. No...I guess you're not. Oz's expression wasn't much better, but it wasn't as...loaded.

          "Johnny Meyer!" Zydeco hissed as they approached. "What the hell are you doing? I should've known you'd be out carousing, but to take a Union target out with you? You know Mr. Mcgyver's supposed to be protected here," she pointed to the ground. "What if they'd captured you? Both of you? What if you'd gotten..."

          Johnny opened his arms wide. "Killed? You already tried that, remember? And besides, Mac was safe with me."

          Mac gave a weak smile as he moved to stand beside Oz. It seemed like less of a strike zone beside the burly man. "Hi Oz."

          "I see Doc's work did you good." He smiled. "Bruises actually do your face good."

          Mac grinned. "Sorry if we caused a problem."

          "No, no problem with me. Oh," he leaned in close. "Don't know if Holly told you or not, but she left two packets of pills by your bedside. You're suppose to take one packet before you go to bed."

          "Pills for what?"

          "Remedies for infection, sleep - as in they keep out the nasties."

          "Nasties?"

          "That's what the lady said - I usually don't ask for too many details. I do suggest heading on up and getting some sleep though. The black looks good, but right now, you're the whitest white man I know."

          Mac nodded. He turned to tell Johnny thank you again, but unfortunately the singer wasn't in any position to speak as his lips were solidly locked with Zydeco's. I guess he told her.

          "Night Oz."

          "Night Computer Man."

          The closer Mac got to his room, the slower his muscles moved. He hadn't realized how tired he was. Or perhaps it was Johnny and now he was tired because he wasn't around the singer. The man is a freak'n marvel. He nodded to the constructs patrolling the hallway. Three of them lined up as he entered his room and took position outside as he shut the door. Great. Doubt I'll be sneaking out again anytime soon.

          He stripped off his clothes, opened a packet of the brown, odorless pills, and swallowed them with a glass of water. He took another long look at himself in the mirror. The bruises were more pronounced now. Black, purple, yellow and even a splash of indigo. Very pretty.

          Bah. Very ugly. Not that much will improve your face, computer man.

          He shook his head, cut out the light and slipped between the sheets.

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