Across the desk from David Armitage, Martin listens as his employer finishes up the talk Tran had warned him about.

"My concern isn't so much for the agency," Armitage finishes, "But for Dorothy and your mother. Our lawyers will be able to handle this, should it come to light. And this time you probably don't have to worry too much, unless the fellow you shot is able to identify you. I do know that the Reno police department is conducting its own investigation into the shooting, and for all we know they're working together. I don't want to tell you not to carry the gun, but for heaven's sake, Martin, please realize that we don't have the same -- relative -- immunities that being on the force offers."

Martin listens quietly until David finishes and then sighs, "I know, believe me, I know David... But I had Stafford standing next to me, the showgirl was just getting into the back seat, and these two idiots just walked up and started shooting like we were in Dodge City or something." 

Shifting in his seat, Martin shakes his head, "If they'd been real professionals it would've been one thing, but these guys? They were going to kill us all, right there in front of God and anybody who walked into the parking deck."

He cocks a thumb back over his shoulder towards the office door, "I might've been able to recover from a bullet or two," his face twists uncomfortably at the words, "But Mira? The showgirl? No way." He shrugs helplessly, "What was I supposed to do? It's not like I can catch bullets in my teeth or something."

Armitage sighs. "I know, it was a tricky situation. But I'm sure I don't need to remind you that your police training focused on non-violent conflict resolution. I know you're on edge, Martin, but just make sure you exercise caution. I'm not blaming you for acting as you did, I certainly understand why you did it. You aren't," Armitage finishes wryly, "Any good to any of us dead, however much you might wish it on yourself."

Martin starts to reply, then closes his mouth and is silent for a minute. Is that right? Am I trying to get myself killed? he thinks. It hurts a lot every time I think about how it used to be, but... dead?

"No," he says finally, the words coming out slowly, almost as if he were talking to himself as much as to David. "I don't think that's really it - maybe a little, but no more than that. I think... I think I'm angry... and they were a convenient way to bleed some of that anger off...."

Armitage looks to one of the pictures on the wall with an expression Martin's never seen on his face before, of some undefined loss. "Martin," he says carefully, "You're feeling guilty about surviving when your partner didn't. I understand that, I've seen it before. But you have to remember that your life isn't any less valuable for having kept it. Just because someone else pulls the trigger won't make it any less a suicide and won't make it any easier on your family." 

He’s right there, Martin sighs mentally. Dorothy would die - or worse, wind up with her mother. If it had just been Charlie, or Lorraine, or those bastards.... "I know," he says quietly, "It... I think I might have been able to deal with any one of them, but all of that happening at once.. no, there wasn’t any hope of that. And I can’t deal with it now... they’re all twined together, all part of a single whole that I just can’t get past...."

"Mira," Armitage says, hitting a button on the phone. "Could you come in for a minute, please?"

Back in her office, Mira is adjusting the Wolf Pack ball cap she's been wearing since realizing, in her shower the night before, that her hair was coming out by the handful.

I probably should shave my head, Mira thinks. Maybe they'll just think I just really liked G.I. Jane. Hmmm....don't know if I want them to think that. What's worse, going bald or looking like a poodle who got a bad cut? I'd better make a doctor's appointment. But what do I say. "Yes, doctor, I was wandering around a secret government installation and I think I've been exposed to something?" She sighs. I'd better ask Martin if he's feeling ill too.

Tran had taken Isaac pretty much in hand -- he'd recovered from his earlier shock, when she transformed into her usual appearance in the chartered jet (his comment upon recovery, with requisite boyish grin, "Golly, can you do Rita Hayworth?") -- and had plopped him down in front of a computer with Netscape while she researched who, from his past, was still alive. "I think, Isaac, that your sister is alive and living with her youngest son in Phoenix," Tran says as Mira walks past.

"Ruth!" he says, standing up. "Let me call her."

"Don't you think that's going to be quite a shock for a lady in her seventies?" Tran asks gently. "I'll have your ID ready in a few hours, and we can fly down, if you'd like."

"You're right," Isaac answers, sitting back down in front of a Spice Girls website. "I still need to speak to the Corps, anyhow. Zowie," he says, eyebrows raised, as the images load.

Tran gives Mira a helpless look. "One thing at a time, Isaac," she says.

"If you think that's amazing Isaac, wait to you see the premium channels," Mira says, laughing. "You get cable don't you Tran?"

She smiles. "I don't think he's quite ready for 'Red Shoe Diaries' yet. Not sure I am, either," she mutters to herself as she punches something up on her computer.

"I was thinking about something a little more on the line of 'Sliver'," Mira says, thoughtfully looking at Tran. "I was embarrassed that only got an R rating when I saw it television. I imagine Isaac will be suprised at how much they show on television and movies now. Good luck with helping him out. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Sure, will do," Tran says. "If you know a good place to stay in Phoenix, that might help. But I don't think anything could shock him more than a tampon commercial he saw during 'Regis and Kathy Lee.'"

"Oh yes, the 'Have you ever walked out of a party with your sweater tied around your waist' commercials," Mira laughs. "Well they embarrass most of us. I don't have a tip on a hotel. But just make sure whatever place you get has AC. Have a good trip."

 "Thanks for waiting, Mira," Armitage says as she enters his office. "I wanted to mention that the Golden Avenger is in town for a week -- they finished up the Avenger Games in New Orleans last Sunday, and he's taking some time off now. I don't know if you have heard, since you've been out of touch, but it turned into an incredible disaster. Apparently some paranormals, not understanding that it was a training exercise, got involved. Property damage is said to be in the millions. Anyway, the point of the story is that he's in town, and if you'd like to speak with him directly, we can drive over there or I can give him a call and ask him to come into the office. Your choice."

Oh that must've been a real wonderful time, Martin thinks. I hope no one was hurt.

"Wow, trashed New Orleans. Didn't these guys ever learn to ask some questions before they start unleashing paranormal powers all over the city. And I thought the Golden Gate Guardian's dragon destroying the PRIMUS headquarters was bad news. No wonder the paranormal registration act is getting some much support in the press lately," Mira says.

That's a problem, Martin thinks at Mira's words. I'd have to register, or be in violation of a Federal law... Damn, I never thought of this, he frowns. They’ll probably want to know what my powers are, and telling them places me about sixty seconds from a visit by Mira’s favorite folks. What am I going to do if it passes? Move out of the country maybe?

Armitage continues, responding to Mira. "It's pretty bad, really. Some administrator's son was posing as a child with an exceptionally virulent virus as part of the exercise. Kid was having the time of his life. They're not sure he'll make it now. For every bit of good press paranormals get," Armitage finishes, "Someone makes a mess that practically begs for drastic action." The gray-haired man sighs, and pours himself another cup of coffee. "Anyone?" he offers.

"Yes, please," Mira says, reaching for a cup.

"I'll take some tea if you've got it," Martin replies. "About New Orleans though, these local paranormals just stepped into the exercise and started shooting? Don't they hold them on government property or something? Military facilities and PRIMUS bases? That'd mean those idiots invaded government property and attacked government agents, right?"

"So far as I understand it, yes. All I know is that the Avenger they put in charge of the games -- Richardson, I think, the chess player -- looks like he's mad enough to spit nails. Guess he could anyway," Armitage amends, partly to himself. "I heard from Samantha Johnson that the new policies regarding paranormal participation in federal investigations that had been tossed around after the Presidio disaster are shoe-ins now. I think things are going to be getting a tad ugly for our friends in spandex." He looks around. "Uh, no, no tea. Tran keeps some, though." 

"I’ll survive," Martin says, "It’s no big thing."

Mira ponders that for a moment. "I can just imagine the editorial in the Times."

"What new policies?" Martin asks curiously. "We had a set on the Force, but they generally went out the window about the time that bullets started to bounce off of any given suspect like rubber bands. Of course," he adds, "we didn’t have PRIMUS’ firepower either."

"No dealing with paranormals, period. The official word has been to treat all paranormals with suspicion, but that’s been base dependent for some time. Now it looks to be gospel." Armitage shrugs. "I’m not surprised, just saddened. Maria Chow was the most tolerant, and look where it’s gotten her. Stephen Hawkins in Hudson City was next, and he toes the official line, no matter what."

"Getting back to the Avenger, I guess him coming here would be the best," Mira says, tapping the arm of her chair. "I don't trust talking to him in the PRIMUS facility. God knows what could be bugged there. And it's hard to know who to trust there. Would he come here if you called? I mean is he going to believe us or just think we're all a bunch of crazed lunatics?"

"At the risk of giving Stafford a swelled head," Martin adds, "I've got to agree with her - meeting him here, particularly if you have an apparently normal reason for doing so - is a far better plan than the Presidio or some neutral location that would arouse suspicion. His 'minders' probably won't follow him inside here - bounce a laser off the window maybe, but that'd be about it."

David Armitage smiles. "I don't think that will be much of a problem. I was thinking more of speaking to him at home than at PRIMUS anyway, but I'll just call and have him meet us here."

"Oh, I don't suppose you know the name of a good doctor?" Mira asks nonchalantly. "I haven't been to once since I broke my arm in sixth grade."

Oh Jesus Mira, her partner thinks, shocked. You haven't gotten yourself looked at yet? Leaning closer, he eyes the ball cap and her hair suspiciously. Dad wore one of those as soon as the hair started to go from the chemo back when they thought it might help fight AIDS by treating it like it was a cancer-related problem.....

"Why don't you drop in on Doctor Emori in her lab?" Armitage suggests, hitting another button on his phone. "She can assess you and tell you where you need to go, or if it's something relatively minor, she'll handle it herself." 

Armitage pauses and picks up the receiver. "Hello, Daniel, this is David Armitage. Yes, fine, thanks. Yourself? Good. Did she? That's great. Right. Right. I'm calling because I was wondering if you'd like to have lunch at the office. Right, the one on Divisidero. Park in the back. Twenty minutes? Great, see you then."

"Why didn't I think that?" Mira says bopping herself on the head. "Ow, that was a little too hard. I'll call her today. Thanks."

 I wish you'd stop that, Martin sighs to himself. Particularly if you got too much radiation exposure when I opened the box - soft tissue damage was one of Dad's biggest problems.

"I'm not trying to pry," she adds hastily. "Really. It's just I'm not sure how to handle this. Usually how I approach most of these situations is headfirst and just lay it all out on the line. I've always believed that the straightforward truth is the best way to approach things. But, well. I'm not very good at dealing with government types. I usually end up yelling at them."

Understatement of the year there, Stafford, Martin observes silently.

"Argghhh," Mira blurts out exasperated with herself. "I just realized that I talked you out of a chance to actually see the Golden Avenger's house. I've heard stories about how great a piece of property that is. I can't believe I was so stupid." She knocks her head against the table. "And I call myself a journalist."

One more time and I stop you Stafford, Martin notes to himself.

Armitage chuckles. "I wouldn't mention your reporter origins to him," he says after Mira finishes. "He's slick when he deals with the press, but he's about as fond of reporters are you are of 'government types.' Not since the Academy, anyway. And in response to your earlier questions, I stood as godfather to the Johnson twins. Were I you, unless he asks, I wouldn't say where you overheard Vasquez, just that you did. I'm going to ask him to do a little research for me on behalf of Isaac, and I'll probably have to explain the facility to him in time."

"OK," Mira flashes a smile. "I guess I'll just silently suffer through knowing that one of those reporter-types he doesn't really care for is saving his butt. The cosmic irony of it is amusing."

I don’t think you’ve done anything silently since you were born, her partner thinks, feigning an itching nose to cover up the smile that crosses his lips.

"Since we have a few moments, I guess it would be the best time to bring up some concerns about that package," Mira says. "I was just wondering if our client understands what that thing is. I mean, Martin opened the lid so we could get a look at it and let me tell you, whatever it is, it's not something that the public should be exposed to. It made my stomach turn just looking at it."

"You did what?!" Armitage is shocked, and arches his eyebrows in horror at the two investigators. "Did you take leave of your senses entirely? I believe my words were 'extreme caution' and to at least prepare for radiation. You're lucky not to be dead, both of you. Mira, I want you to go and speak with Dr. Emori immediately after you're finished here." He gets a glint in his eye, and quickly leans over and grabs Mira's ball cap, and surveys her patchy hair. "Good God," he says, handing it back. "Please be more careful in the future -- provided you survive long enough to take another case. Martin, how are you feeling?"

"Fine," Martin replies quietly. "I wasn't as bothered by it as she was."

 "You don't have to yell. I just wanted to make sure we had the right box and that it wasn't going to explode or anything," Mira says somewhat exasperated. "I'm the one with the hair falling out."

"She's right," Martin adds, a touch defensively. "I wasn't going to haul the damned thing all the way out of there, and then discover that we'd almost gotten killed three or four times to extract an empty box. Especially with Mira's ribs being broken, we didn't have any option but to make sure it was in there the first time."

"You weren't given the assignment to get the box to verify its contents," Armitage responds, his tone cool. "You were just to get the box, based on the description I gave you. You knew it met the criteria, weighed about what it should have. Please, when I tell you to be careful, realize that these words aren't coming out of my mouth for my own health, but your own."

"I understand," Mira says, nodding her head as some hair floats down. "I was just worried. Guess I learned my lesson the hard way."

Martin grimaces, and holds up a hand to halt any further words, "Sorry - you didn't deserve that. I'm just... I.." he looks over at Mira and back at David. "I'm sorry, but it was my fault, I opened the box...."

He turns to Mira, "No kidding around Stafford - you're going to Emori as soon as we're done here today. I can't... I'm not going to lose another partner because of my stupidity. I can't carry that around along with everything else."

"Martin, it's not your fault," Mira says. "Hell, I was the one who pushed for us check the contents of the box. I'm grateful you don't seem to have my symptoms. Now stop worrying about nothing. So far we don't know what's wrong with me so there's no sense in getting worried about it yet. Let's wait and see what Dr. Emori says. I'm not in my grave yet."

"If my time on the force taught me anything, Stafford, it taught me how short a trip that is," Martin replies with a pained look.

Armitage adds, "I don't think that you should worry about our client's ability to handle it appropriately. She represents a large aerospace contractor who is experienced in handling objects -- or artifacts -- of this type. To answer the issues Martin raised earlier, about the thefts, this particular contractor had been given the contract of developing the artifact as a power source in a type of long-range aircraft -- actually, a bomber. They did so, but the artifact was confiscated and the aircraft project scrapped. Later on, it was revised, they were re-issued the artifact for study and development, but this time, when the project was canceled, the box was stolen outright from an ultra high-security facility. They've been trying to locate it for some time, and finally received word that it was located in Nevada. That's when they contacted us."

"And they're going to do what with it now?" Martin asks, "Considering the project was canceled again, I mean? Recover a security deposit from the government on it like it was a Coke bottle?"

"There is a market," Armitage says vaguely, "however hidden, for new propulsion systems, such as could travel outside of our solar system within days. Also, you have to realize that it wasn't a legitimate agency which stole the energy source."

"Oh," Martin agrees, "I think we got that part figured out pretty well."

Nearly a half-hour later, Tran buzzes. "Mr. Johnson is here," she says in her best pert office-manager voice.

"Great, send him in," Armitage responds. A few moments later and the Golden Avenger walks into Armitage's office. Six feet tall, with blond hair and blue eyes, he looks the part of the all-American hero, though he's wearing khaki pants and a plaid button-down shirt instead of the gaudy PRIMUS uniform.

"Captain Armitage," he nods to the head of AI Inc, holding a hand out for him to shake. "It's nice to see you again."

"Call me David; we're both retired now," Armitage says, referring to the well-publicized retirement of DJ Johnson from the naval reserve, twenty years after beginning his studies at Annapolis. "I'd like for you to meet Mira Stafford and Martin DuQuense, investigators here." Johnson shakes Martin's hand, and waits for Mira to offer hers before shaking hers gently.

Martin eyes the Golden Avenger quietly, irrationally expecting to see some signs of Isaac's DNA apparent on the DJ's face.

Armitage gets up and closes the door behind the Golden Avenger, who takes a seat next to the parrot. "They've uncovered something that I think you should know about."

"Yes?" Johnson says with a guilty blush, putting down a statue of a fertility goddess he'd picked up to examine.

Glad to see someone besides me has a problem with the things, Martin thinks.

Mira squints at the Golden Avenger for a few seconds to get used to the ambient glow about him. Looks like a 100-watt bulb, she thinks. Got to get used to that paranormal glow. Then she realizes he's looking at her.

"Nice to meet you," she says, after shaking his hand.

"Um, yes," Mira says, trying not to giggle. This is a serious situation, Mira, she reprimands herself. It just seems like everyone has to pick up that statue.

Okay, how do we want to start this, Martin thinks frantically. Just blurting it out probably isn't the right...

"Well there's no easy way to say this so I guess the best thing is to just come out with it. Someone is trying to kill you." She then hastily adds, "I mean, someone you know, inside PRIMUS. I overheard Avery Vasquez speaking to someone about his plans to um," she winces at the words, "get rid of you."

Well... that plan died quickly, he sighs to himself. Maybe if we try and....

"I know this just sounds preposterous, but I really did hear him," she says as earnestly as possible. "Vasquez was complaining about how you had become to much trouble. When this woman major said why not try using a sex scandal to discredit you, he said that it wouldn't work. There was nothing in your past except one incident at Annapolis and that you were living like a monk now."

...buy a muzzle for Mira, he finishes to himself as his partner cuts him off in mid-thought. No - lines like that are their own punishment.

Johnson coughs, and exchanges an amused glance with Armitage, who looks, Martin realizes, like he is trying very, very hard not to laugh. The parrot, however, has no such compunction, and chortles loudly.

Mira turns red. "Oh you be quiet," she says to the bird.

Go get her Polly, Martin smiles.

Mira looks embarrassed at the ground. Great, I'm talking to the Golden Avenger about his sex life. Looking back at the Golden Avenger straight in his eyes she says, "He said a sex scandal would just hurt PRIMUS. Instead he's going to try and make a martyr out of you. He said slipping the right information to VIPER would take care of you and allow PRIMUS to get more funding while pursuing a scorched earth policy against VIPER. I think he's going to try it soon."

For the briefest of moments Martin's head is filled with the roaring of the explosion and the flames that ended his old life - Charlie's screams echoing in his ears again as they'd done in the facility under the Nevada desert. Shaking his head, he thinks, Not now dammit! Later, deal with it later!, pushing the sounds back into the back of his mind. I have to be able to think now.

"I'm really sorry," Mira says, biting her lip.

The Golden Avenger looks thoughtful, and tucks his sunglasses into his shirt pocket. "Well," he says slowly, "This isn't entirely unexpected news, and anyone familiar with the inner workings at PRIMUS could tell you that the good colonel isn't fond of the Avenger program in general or me in particular. Did you happen to catch any more specifics? Not," he adds hastily, "That I don't appreciate you both coming forward with this information. It seems that there is more rotten in the state of PRIMUS than I had initially thought," he finishes with a frown.

"He seemed to be speaking in broad generalities," Mira sighs, looking thoughtful. "I got the impression that he was going to move on this rapidly, but he didn't give a date."

"He also mentioned something about you having other sources of information and that you were thwarting him on things. I'm afraid he didn't say much more."

"Yes he did," Martin adds quietly, leaning forward in his chair. "You mentioned it specifically while we were talking about it just after we got back to the city." He turns to look at the Avenger and continues, "He made a point of the fact that this wasn't the first time, that he'd already arranged this exact same thing before with satisfactory results." Martin pauses, then finishes, "He implied that he'd arranged Golden Avenger Kaufman's death as well."

Johnson arches an eyebrow, and blinks once, twice, at Martin. "Oh?" he says nonchalantly. "That's even more interesting." He takes a cup of coffee from Armitage. "I can't say that piece of information is entirely new to me, though. I don't suppose the name of the contact person Vasquez deals with in VIPER came up?"

"Not unless Stafford heard it," Martin says, turning to look at her, "Stafford?".

Mira shakes her head, "Unfortunately no. The only other thing I remember from the conversation was the Vasquez saying that it was critical to keep funding going to PRIMUS 'at this juncture of the project.' Those were his exact words - 'this juncture of the project.' However, he never defined what the project was."

"Probably those coffins that hummed," Martin adds quietly.

"He also said that either 'we' - that was the term he used - 'we' get the Golden Avenger we want or the position doesn't get filled. And also that 'Glenn won't dare interfere anymore.'   That was pretty much it," Mira adds.

The Avenger squints, and stares out the window. "He didn't mention which Avenger he wanted in the position?" he says, his voice dangerously quiet. "No, I guess that would be too much to hope for," he sighs, looking back towards the trio. "I really appreciate your both coming forward with this information. I'm not really sure how to thank you, but you're both more than welcome to my Labor Day barbecue Monday," he smiles. "Hopefully we can get the old Captain here to show up. Did I mention Mom was coming?"

"Ah, then I couldn't refuse," Armitage responds, standing. "Please, Martin, come to lunch with us," Armitage says to Martin. "Mira, you're going to the doctor, and I'd be happy to drop you off there," he says sternly.

"Uh-oh," Johnson says, blue eyes twinkling at Mira. "You better not say 'no' now. That's the voice he'd use right before he'd call Dad and tell him what we'd done when we were kids."

"I'd be honored," Martin says, standing up. "And if you don't let David drop you off, I'm going to do it - even if I have to duct-tape you to a surfboard and stick you in the sun roof."

"This is so unfair, I break my ribs, get cold-cocked and now my hair is falling out and Martin gets to go have lunch with you guys," Mira halfheartedly sniffs. Though the guys can see she's trying to repress a laugh. "What do I get? I get a trip to the doctor so I can get poked and prodded with a cold stethoscope. I swear they keep that thing in the refrigerator. I'm telling you Martin, the next time we go anywhere, you're driving the whole way there and back. And I get to pick the music," Mira smiles. "I think that's only fair."

"I suppose that isn't too much to ask - as long as we’re in a company rental - but you didn't indicate a preference Stafford: David's kind offer, or the surfboard behind door number two." Martin replies. "Which one will it be?"

Sighing Mira looks at Martin. "I'm going to let you all drop me off at the doctor's while you go to lunch. Don't worry I'll see the doctor. Really, Martin a surfboard?" Mira looks at him a little incredulously. "I'd hear you coming a mile away. It'd never work. It's a nice sentiment, though. Thank you."

"Oh, I don’t think it would be too hard," Martin grins evilly for a second. "I’ll just ask for volunteers from the office staff ...."

Tran opens the door and steps in before Mira can respond. "Sorry to disturb you," she says in the sweet voice Martin has learned means she's railroading someone into doing what she wants, "but I was wondering about if you'd like Avenger Johnson to speak with Mr. Rosenberg while he's here? Or would you prefer to brief him yourself, Mr. Armitage?"

Armitage's smile reads "checkmate," though he doesn't look happy the subject has been broached. "Well, since I promised to take Mira to the doctor," he says, matching her saccharine tone, "I suppose I'll just let you tell him yourself. Care to join us at lunch? I know, you two can drive over together and you'll be able to explain it all then."

Tran pales -- a neat trick for an albino -- and concedes defeat. "Sure," she says brightly. "Why don't you take Isaac with you, then, and we'll meet you there. I'm not really happy about leaving him on his own yet. He's bound to discover HBO sometime soon," she shares a look with Mira. "And that isn't going to be pretty." She shudders and shakes the newly black and silver hair.

The Golden Avenger looks curious. "Who is Mr. Rosenberg?" he asks, looking from Tran to Armitage.

"Er," she says when Armitage doesn't answer. "I'll tell you in the car. Where are we going? Oh, I know *just* the place," she says, smiling wickedly. "The best Vietnamese restaurant in San Francisco. Hey, come ON," she says to Johnson. "Unlike you federal workers with your cushy jobs, I don't have all day for lunch." Tran gives Armitage a look of triumph, and shuts the door behind DJ.

"Ugh," Armitage says. "Just great. I know where we're going; how about we all ride together? It's mostly on the way to Mari's lab. Bring your Pepto-Bismol," he says to Martin.

"I think I can manage," Martin replies, "I’ll just eat the centerpiece if the food looks too dangerous...."

"Just as long as nothing crawls off the plate," Mira winces.

"This just Vietnamese food Stafford," Martin answers, opening the office door for the other two, "Not Klingon cuisine."