It was then he saw them.

     Two men standing by a newspaper stand. Both were dressed in black shoes, black ties, black suits, black shades.

     Agents.

     This can't be happening. It's not even noon and already you're in a pickle. But why panic? They can't hear any transmissions...just act natural and they won't bother you. Just don't invite trouble.

     He swallowed and looked away. Look natural. Walk. Just walk, like you know where you're going. Seemed easy enough, but when he glanced back his optics automatically whirled to focus on the two mean. He saw the same signatures he'd detected on the Agents in Paris. Heavily armed.

     And they were watching him.

     Oh hell. Damn...did they sense me using the implants? What is with me? Do I just scream Mess With Me?

     He began a slow stroll up the street away from the two men. Afraid to look back he checked out the local stores and found several security cameras directed from a nearby restaurant onto the newstand. Using his IR, he tapped in and watched the Agents.

     They were no longer there.

     Mac felt his heart race against his chest. Don't panic. They can't read you. You're not broadcasting. Calen fixed that.

     Or did he? No, that's silly. In an odd fashion, I've learned to trust him.

     Mac paused at a light amid a crowed of people. The sun was strong over-head and he was sweating beneath his jacket. He used the gesture of removing his jacket as a means of glancing behind him.

     The Agents were just down the sidewalk, heading his way. Their black shades were focused on him.

     Oh great.

     The light changed and Mac moved with the rest of the crowd across the street. He realized too late he was moving further into Uno, and not away. But he couldn't move the other way – the Agents were there.

     Mac moved just ahead of the others as he looked across the way. He stopped in his tracks. Standing on the opposite side of the street was Maouri. Still dressed in the white suit. Still looking as if she were searching for someone.

     People moved around him, past him, out of the way of the traffic. He stood in the center of the street, his arms at his sides.

     She was looking at him, frowning. He knew that expression, had cherished it. Loved to kiss it away when she was irritated with him. He started forward.

     "Sir?"

     He felt a pressure on his left arm as a hand took a firm grip. Mac was startled out of his memory to see the Agents flanking him. The three of them stood in the middle of the street. "What?"

     "Come with us."

     "What for?" Mac pulled away, wrenched his arm from the Agent's grasp. These are Agents, Mac. Agents. Be careful.

     "Sir, please don't make this any harder on yourself."

     "Harder," Mac stepped back. The light had not yet changed. This was odd – had they stopped it from going to green? "What is this about?"

     "We'd just like to ask you some questions," one Agent started to reach inside his jacket pocket.

     Without thinking, Mac accessed the Karate program he'd been working with. He felt it initialize and his muscles came under firm control. With ease, still with the shoulder bag in place, he kicked the gun from the man's hand with his left foot as the Agent withdrew it. Mac then spun to his right, leaned back on his left foot, and planted his right foot directly into the chest of the second Agent. The Agent went down with an audible grunt.

     The other one was still standing. Mac spun again, and brought the heavy bag around to connect with the Agent's head. The man was knocked back and Mac turned and headed toward the sidewalk where Maouri and a group of pedestrians had gathered to watch the interchange.

     This was not how I planned on leaving Vienna.

     The lights changed before he began moving. The farthest lane to the right had been empty, and the driver of the approaching sedan had not seen the altercation. All he saw was the green light and pressed on the accelerator. He didn't see the young librarian until it was too late.

     Mac didn't see the sedan.

     The Adept was struck from the left as he reached the empty lane. It all happened in slow motion for him. The impact sent him over the hood and into the windshield. He felt his head connect with the glass and heard it crack.

     But the Adept didn't know if that was his own skull cracking or the glass. Mac felt gravity reclaim his body again and he tumbled over the side, past the passenger's door to the sidewalk where his right shoulder connected with somethng hard and unforgiving.

     He didn't move for a few minutes. Mainly because he tittered on the edge of consciousness. He could hear voices around him and felt people gathered to him. Mac knew he lay on his side, he knew his right hand was beneath his right ear. He felt pain in his left wrist. But he couldn’t feel anything else.

     No, that wasn't true.

     Oh…god.

     Now there was pain, as if his body had abruptly reawakened There was incredible pain in his lower back. His shoulders and his head. Oh fuck…my head. I can't connect…I can't connect…

     "…he dead?"

     "…non…doctor?"

     "Should someone call an ambulance?" This person was definatley American, from somewhere in southern states.

     No, no doctors. Mac forced his eyes open and tried push up with his right elbow. But strong hands pushed him back on his side. "Non...you must not move. You have blood - you have bumped your head," came a motherly voice from above him.

     But I have to get out of here. He tried to lift his head and groaned. I think I'm going to be sick. Nausea. That's a concussion, right? I think I've been here before.

     "Please, everyone move back," an authoritative voice said in German.

     Mac heard sirens. He looked up into the dark shades of one of the Agents he'd fought.

     "We're taking control of the situation."

     Mac shook his head. "I'm...f-fine. Really, I just need..." he tried to move away from the Agent.

     There was a sting against his neck. His muscles went limp and he fell back into the arms of the motherly woman behind him.

     "He has feinted, no?"

     But the Adept could hear. He could see. His eyes remained open and he saw the clear, blue sky above him. He couldn't talk nor could he move. He felt another pressure on his neck, as if someone were taking his pulse.

     "We'll take him," came the voice Mac knew belonged to one of the agents.

      No! He struggled to speak, to move. He saw the Agent bend over him. Saw his own reflection in the dark shades.

     "You shouldn't have run, rogue."

     Rogue? was the last thought had before succumbing to whatever drug they had used.

     Pain. Not constant. But real. Solid. A thing that burned in his muscles, with the voices of many asking him question after question. There weren't any answers, none that he could tell them.

     Where are your implants from? Who authorized them? Who installed them? Who are you? What is your name? Why are you here? Why did you run? To whom do you report?

     Whomever these people with painful voices were, it was obvious they didn't know what he was, or who. And that gave him some comfort. That was something of himself he could hide from them and they would never know. They had beat at the doors of his VR and failed to enter. They had no idea how close they came in their desires. The pain had been unbearable. But they shut him down - and made cooperation impossible. They denied him his eyes and ears. Somehow, they denied him voice.

     And then there had been darkness for a long time.

     He was awake again. And cold. He couldn't see anything clearly. Mac could only make out shapes and shadows. He couldn't hear well, unless someone spoke beside him. His left ear wasn't working. He couldn't speak either – the words were there, yet everytime he tried, he could only make sounds like a child learning language.

     He was helpless, unable to move. Unable to call for help. But who would come? I did this to myself. It's my fault. I only hope they find the library – and they defeat Sterling.

     Cold metal secured him to a table of some sort, at the ankles, knees, waist, wrists, elbows and neck. He could feel the smooth surface of each restraint. He had no idea how long he'd been like this. Mac only knew that time had passed slowly. Agonizingly.

     There was only this place, and the white of his static, unresponsive VR. This, and the pain. Sometimes they turned the pain on, in hopes he would tell them something. And how can I tell them if I cannot talk?

     Voices came now as he struggled to move. People in blurry white, coats with something in their hands.

     "No, we're still not sure about the identity." Mac knew this voice. He'd heard it from the beginning. This was a man named Burke. "No broadcast. Though as far as we can tell, the DEI is in place and running. Or was, until the implants shut down."

     "Why did you shut them down?" This voice was new. Female.

     "We didn't. They shut themselves down right after we connected through his port.

     There was a gasp. "The implants shut themselves down? That's not..." There was a pause. "What is IX doing giving over commands like that to an Agent?"

     "Ah," there was a noise, a clatter as if someone had set a clip board down on a table. "This is where this Agent is interesting. These implants aren't Iteration make. They're Void Engineer Convention."

     Mac felt cold fingers on his forehead as they forced his head to the right. He tried to resist, to protest, but something hard and wrapped in cloth was shoved between his teeth before he could attempt a sound. "Sorry...the speech connections are offline as well, and I'm not going to talk over him. Mind the wiring - now, here and here, see the scarring? Very faint, but good. And here," the hand turned his head again, as thick, rough fingers forced his left eye open. "See here? Full optical servos with multi-lenses. The right eye has a partial link integrated with this eye."

     "You mean the full eye isn't artificial?"

     "No - not entirely. Bio-mechanical. I'm nearly certain Progenitor Work. The implants are so integrated with his neural net, his wet-ware is a living, vital part of his genetic make up. And here," the fingers pressed his head again to the right. The metal collar bit into his neck and right shoulder as Burke held him still. Mac groaned around the cloth at the pain. "Full audio - he could probably hear someone's phone conversation a hundred miles away." The fingers released their hold and Mac moved his head.

     "Astounding." Another new voice. "This is ground breaking work."

     The female spoke again. "The speech connections are offline? You mean he can't actually talk?"

     "No - not inteligibly. When he was first brought in he functioned quite well for someone just in a car accident. We began the regular procedures - the pain inducers to speed along information flow. But when he didn't respond to that, we tried the direct connection to the core. That's when we found the wet-ware integrations with speech, autonomic response, audio and visual. Then it all shut down. He just collapsed on us. He can't see - and he has only has partial hearing. He knows he's being held, and he knows you and I are here. As for thought processes," there was a pause and the man released Mac's forehead. "I have no idea what's going on in there. We just can't access the DEI. The entire system is locked out."

     "If he can't move, then why the restraints? He seemes harmless enough."

     "Harmless?" Burke sighed. "After we administered the pain inducers, he shorted out the cameras, three machines, and two Agents' implants before we were able to sedate him again."

     Mac stopped moving. I did all those things? I have no memory of it. Nothing.

     "He shorted it out...himself? With what?"

     "The implants, we assume. Without feedback from the connection, the only way we can be sure is x-ray and disection. Now you see why we want to get inside that head."

     "But this was before the implants shut down? If he's as incompacitated as you say, these restraints seem like overkill."

     "Miss Cooper, he's much easier to control this way. You almost sound as if you feel pity for him."

     Cooper? Miss Cooper? The only female Cooper Mac knew other than his wife was his mother. No, there was Richard's wife...

     Rebecca?

     "I pity those that believe they can move around our control." The voice now held a dangerous edge to it.

     "Why yes, Miss Cooper."

     "So you've been unsuccessful in your attempts to learn anything about him?"

     "There's the dilemma," he sighed. "We're a limited facility. As the only Iteration department in the hospital, nested amid Progens, we've requested to ship him to Conrol. I'd like to pick him apart and find out who made him and what he's doing here. And I'd especially love to find out who put this hardware into his head. It hasn't been there long. But..."

     Taken to Control? Picked apart? Good God no. He tried again to pull free, but there was no give. Nothing. He pressed his tongue against the cloth wedged in his mouth and tried to force it out. Something held it firmly in place. He had never been so frightened, or so utterly helpless. All these great toys and I'm like a small child, unable to function. But at least, Calen's little exercise stopped them from discovering my identity. I can only assume that Calen rigged the implants to shut down when tampered with. But how do I boot them back up? My key is in my VR - and I can't access it.

     "But?" Miss Cooper prompted.

     "There's a Progenitor working out of Portland - Dr. Malcolm Cooper - who's very interested in our little find. I don't know how he found out - but he apparently has some clout. He's interfering with our possesion of him."

     "May I remove that from his mouth?" The female said. "He seems to be having trouble breathing."

     Mac gasped as the cloth was removed from between his teeth, relieved. It had become difficult to breath. My father is interested. Does he know it's me? He's preventing them from taking me to Control?

     "Let me increase the zolpidem," Burke sighed. "There. This way he won't be inclined to speak either. Can't stand the sound." He paused. "Are you related to Dr. Cooper?"

     Mac heard the sound of the door open again. "Dr. Burke? There's a priority call on line one from Portland." This was a new voice. Female. Out of breath.

     "Priority?"

     "It's Dr. Cooper, sir." She paused. "He says he's on his way."

     "What?" Burke sounded more than a bit upset. "No - he can't do this. This rogue is my find. Please, excuse me Miss Cooper. May Robert show you out?"

     "If you don't mind, I'd like to stay here and examine him myself. Just so I can give a full report of your work. I'm sure NWO, once they hear about your advances and dedication, would be more than happy work in your favor."

     "Why thank you, Miss Cooper. Yes, yes. Please, by all means. Robert, you leave Miss Cooper to her work. I'll be in my office."

      Mac heard feet scuffling and nothing more. The sounds whispered to nothing.

     Dr. Cooper. A call from Portland. My father is coming.

     The drug was taking effect. He struggled to keep his eyes open - though he couldn't make out anything solid. But he needed to talk. "Rrr-ubecka?"

     A soft, warm finger pressed against his full lips. "Shhhh… Oh Alan," Rebecca sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

     He blinked over and over, trying to clear his vision. But he couldn' make out her face. "Whaa-ater.."

     "Yes," she moved away, then returned. A straw was held to his lips and he drank. It was cool and easy on his parched mouth.

     When she pulled it away, his sister-n-law began to talk, but the drug was taking him away and he fought to understand her. He heard Rebecca in bits and snatches.

     "Don't talk. … Just know that I'm here. I left Richard a year ago - I couldn't agree with what he was doing. The Sphinx sent me a message to come to Uno City, to be reunited with an estranged famly member. I just didn't know it would be you."

     He struggled against the metal and she put her warm hand against his bare chest. "Fr-freee…."

     "You can't walk out of here yet. But I think I know how to fix it. They don't know who you are. And I have to … whomever it was that locked … DEI. It's … Void Engineer signature, not IX. Has … stumped. I'm just surprised to see you like this. Who did this to you? Who put those implants in? Your father stopped his work - it wasn't ever supposed to happen."

    Wasn't supposed to happen? Oh God - if only I could see and speak! I have to get out of here. "Mmmyy…. Ffaah… faahhhh…"

     "Your father will be here soon, Alan. And he'll take you …. I promise." She stroked his forehead, soft fingers along his cheek and brow. "I only hope Control …supercede your father. If they do – … have to get you out … another way. … someone we can call upon. Because … out of options. You're … no condition to …."

     He tried to nod, but the zolpidem had conquered his will. He felt the numbing flow of drugs into his veins as he lost consciousness. The last he felt and heard as he closed his eyes was a kiss on his lips and Rebecca's soft voice in his ear.

     "It'll be okay, Alan. I'm taking you to your father."

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