By Jeremy

October 5, 1998

"You want us to WHAT?!?"

Although Rose could readily understand why this startled comment had been spoken out, she remained calm and composed, showing not one bit of anxiety in both her demeanor and her mind. It was all to the good that she did so, for the people around her could have easily read her emotions, even with the shields she always kept close to her most intimate thoughts. She had known that this wouldn't be easy, but she was also firmly convinced that what she was planning was necessary.

"You heard me clearly enough, " she stated calmly, her face serene. "We must, for the sake of stability in this world, not to mention our own, strike at the Circle Elders."

There were eleven psychics from Europe around the table, all looking back at her with varying degrees of concern. Although they looked like people whose age could be estimated from early twenties to early thirties, most were older, and a few were much more older than what they looked. They were all powerful in their own right, although none were of her range of power, and they were all intelligent and, up to a point at least, wise. These people she needed to agree to her idea.

Unfortunately, they didn't look very much like they were approving in any way. In fact, disapproval was the main emotion floating in the air.

A man in a grey and white suit, looking every inch the businessman, spoke first, his accent marking him as Danish. He seemed the most disapproving of the lot, so that she was not surprised at what he said.

"The Elders," he said gravely and deliberately, "Have no quarrels with us. The Circle has never been a concern to us, and likely never will be. So why, Lady Rose, should we follow this plan which entails, it would seem, that we use our combined powers to eliminate the Elders?"

Rose stood up before them all, using the magnetism that had been hers even before she had fully controlled her powers, magnetism that had always given her an edge in such discussions. "We should do it...because of the future."

"The future? Whatever do you mean?" asked a woman who looked more like a cheerleader than the powerful, old psychics she was. It was another who answered - a man dressed in teenager gear, his hair - his natural color - a deep green. He was the youngest of the group, but after Rose, probably the most active and powerful. She was glad to have him here, for he was one who still looked upon the world with open eyes, not the jaded ones most of the others used.

"I think that she means that right now, with the Circle stirring things up, the future is in danger." he paused "And it is more than possible, with the Elders."

Rose nodded. "That, and the fact that I think the Circle is a blight upon the world. Oh, it wasn't so all the time it stood. I have no doubt that it was founded with intention of helping psychics in the world at first. But as decades went by, that organization became twisted, started to gather power to subjugate and cower others. Today it is little more than a blasphemy to all of those who have our gifts."

A man, who seemed to have been asleep all this time, opened his eyes and spoke. His name was François, a short, stocky man dressed in elegant clothes, perfectly cut. He was over four centuries old and, as such, had more knowledge and wisdom than most. They all gave him their attention, for this man rarely spoke these days, preferring to dwell in the complex spheres of his considerable powers and the calming stability of his own thoughts and memories. He shunned the modern world, and rarely interacted with it. They all knew this might prove to be either incredibly short and cryptic, or longer and more open in manner.

"Blasphemy." he stated, his voice rough and deep "That is a word the has been used for so many reasons, by so many people. Sometimes they were right when they used it, sometimes they were wrong. Who was to say? Who was to judge? Certainly not us." he paused a long moment before continuing "You might think you are doing the right thing, my idealist lady, but you might very well be wrong. The darkest deeds often bring in the best for the future. If that is so, then we should NOT fear it, should not act. I am, therefore, unconvinced by your words."

"What's more," said the Danish smugly, "We are psychics. We have no reasons to be CONCERNED with what humans - and by that I mean this large sea-like bundle of ignorant normal humans - may be at risk? Why should we help them, when all they ever did was shun us and hunt us?"

"We are also at risk." said the green-haired man hotly "If tides of conflict watch over normal humans, do not think we will be standing so high above them not to be swept away by it as well. I agree with Rose. If we put a united front, we have a chance. Else they'll eventually come after us, one after the other. Many of them, picking us off one by one, until we are but mindless zombies or dead. Remember what they did to Theresa eight years ago."

"That was a fluke! Theresa went against them foolishly. We should never repeat such a ridiculous move."

"He is right!"

"No! What Rose and Herman say is true!"

"How can you be sure?!?"

"Let the humans handle their problems!"

As things started to degenerate, with psychics debating all sides of the issue fruitlessly, Rose almost laughed. Better than normal humans, indeed! All psychics were able to do is debate, debate and debate again. This could go on until the underground war reaches out of proportions, spills in the streets of the upper world. And once that happened, what then? What then?

She saw a flash of Emilio, grinning his innocent, teeth-missing smile. What would happen of him? And the other children? And other humans who remembered what it was like to... She stopped, her eyes widening. That was it! She sent a flash of her power forward, compelling silence. She received it amidst surprised and indignant glare. She looked at the Danish man squarely and he returned the stare pound for pound.

"Tell me, sir," she asked "Do you remembered your first kiss?"

"What?" he was stunned. And he wasn't the only one.

"It is a very simple question, sir: do you remember your first kiss?"

"Why...yes. It was long ago, but yes." he seemed but irritated and curious, obviously thinking 'What is this crazy woman up to?'.

Rose nodded. "I remember it too. I was fourteen, very naive, very nervous. Do you wish to know how I felt doing it, sirs, ladies?"

Stunned silence. Except for the old François, who started to grin slowly. He had understood. But then again he was the wisest of this assembly, saw farther than most. Herman looked confused but hopeful. The others had varying looks, some hostile, some sympathetic, all intensely curious.

She smiled. "I felt alive. I felt HUMAN!"

She had them interested now. The old stocky man was now chuckling silently. They were eagerly awaiting the rest. She fleetingly remembered her dear sister, Amelia, telling her quite seriously that if she wanted to convince a geologist that the Earth was flat, she could have found the right words for it. It was time to see if this was true. And so, she opened her thoughts and her mind and spoke, flashing images of children, young couples walking under trees, teenagers kissing shyly, parents playing with their children. And slowly, she saw that they understood. Still unconvinced, but they understood. She reinforced her images with words, forcing them to see her point of view.

"I fight for the normal humans because I wish to remain human. My powers rarely brought me true pleasure - my mundane, human ones often did. They made me feel. And feeling makes us what we are. We may think the humans weak compared to us, but at least they do not run the risk of becoming stones of indifference. The Elders became that in their contempt for normals, and so became far less than them, for they are empty in their soul." she stopped the images. All turned to look at her.

Herman smiled. François nodded. Even the Danish seemed pensive.

She gave the assembled powers a long, searching look. "Fight. If not for humanity itself, then for your OWN humanity."

And she left them at that. Now, all was up to Fate.

And their wish to be more than indifferent stones. To be feeling. To be human.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three days later...

Vega tried to backflip, barely made it. His leg muscles screamed for him to stop this hellish pace, to give them some time to adjust. Long-dormant nerves were now a fire, begging him for a break. Even his upper body was atrociously tired, his arms shaking a little, his stance uncomfortable, his focus still not completely returned. And he felt that his body was giving him the right message.

But he couldn't - WOULDN'T stop, for he the fire he felt in his legs, he gleefully endured, for he remembered the void that they had been just five weeks before. Compared to that, pain was thrice-welcomed. For the last two weeks, ever since he'd been able to stand, he'd restarted his training, pushing himself to his limits, always yearning to go further. Katas, dancing, squats, jogging, intensive muscular toning - he'd done it all and more, sometimes pushing himself so far that he sometimes simply couldn't continue, returned to his mansion only to collapse. But as soon as he could, back to the training.

It had been a trying time - the months of inactivity had been extremely costly, his body no longer wished to respond to his commands like it used to. But Vega hadn't become the greatest Spanish fighter and assassin by letting that stop him. He ignored his legs' lazy dispositions, and now, after these two weeks, he was finally starting to get a response. Oh, he wasn't back to his old self - far from it - but if he kept it, he soon would be. And then he will start to better himself, take his training BEYOND what he'd been.

He continued, bouncing back, giving a series of quick kicks, following them with swift punches and movements he'd learned from both his ninjitsu training and his education as a matador. He shifted, back-kicked, flipped...and then his legs collapsed from under him. He crashed to his knees with a very vicious Spanish curse. He then heard a clapping sound, and sharply turned to his right, to the far end of his personal, private gymnasium. Near the treadmill, stood a tall, black-garbed man who always seemed surrounded by shadows.

"Well, amigo," he grunted, his breath short "Bueno dia. I see you are well."

"Well enough, indeed." said Everick, who summoned the shadows into a mass and sat on it - trick that would have scared more than one second-rate man. However Vega had worked for Bison - nothing surprised him anymore. "I came here to see how you were doing. And I must say that I am impressed."

"Charmed to see that you do." Vega grinned. "Its a marvelous feeling, I'll tell you, to feel your legs tire out when you couldn't use them at all."

Everick nodded, his own face relaxed, even though he wasn't grinning. He seemed preoccupied with something, and if what the rumors he heard of were true, it wasn't any sort of light matter. Then again, had Everick EVER preoccupied himself with less than the gravest events. It seemed...out of the man's character. With groan, he lifted himself up, then walked to his - friend? ally? - and sat - on a real chair.

At length Everick spoke again. "Your strength is increasing, friend. Soon you will be strong enough to carry out your wishes...and ours."

"Soon? Not that soon. I say four months at least. That's not tomorrow."

"But sooner than before your legs' revival."

"Touché."

"So, I take it you'll start by...her?"

Vega scowled just by hearing the inference. Her. Chunli. The one who had humiliated him, defeated him, disfigured him. His face had once been beautiful, no PERFECT. No more. Even the most advanced and costly surgeries - and he'd went for the best that money could buy - had been able to completely repair it. He was still extremely handsome now, but this perfection he had had was irremediably lost. And it enraged him. Darkened his thoughts so that he was barely able to think straight. And so he channeled it into finding the best, most satisfying way of giving her back her own. Pieces were already settling in, and he had four month to put the puzzle together. And then, he would act. One day. When he felt the time was right. And she would suffer. Oh, yes.

"Yes. Castillo crippled me, but he did it because SHE defeated and humiliated me. My hatred for her is at least ten times my hatred for him." he sighed, dispersing the angry thoughts for now. "But that's not the only reason you asked for me here, now is it? Its about the child..."

A grim, cold smile. "Can't fool you now, can I? It is indeed. As by our little deal, you will have to train her."

"And how old is this girl...Dessara?"

Everick considered. "Let me see...roughly one year and a half now, since we surmised she was born in February ninety-seven."

He thought about it. Eighteen months old. There was some motor functions back at that pint, but not enough for even the simplest training. He'd be very stern with the child, for he hated incompetence, and to give her some chance, she needed to have better preparation than this, better focus, better abilities. Else she would start to soon and her lack of control might make this harder for her.

He shook his head. "No. That's too young. There's nothing I'd be able to do with her. Give her to me when she's...two. I'll give her the basics. Shouldn't be too long. Children and females have marvelous bodies as far as learning ninjitsu and graceful maneuvers is concerned. And she happens to be BOTH." he paused "However, the lessons would have to be kept up. Every day, at least an hour, than more as she grows up. That would need...a close proximity to her."

Everick nodded. He obviously had considered it already and understood the unspoken implications of what he had just said. "I understand. I will see what I can do. However, to go back into Lord Bison's good graces will take you some work and some time."

Vega gave a chuckle that managed to be both gentle and dangerous "Going back into his 'good graces' will be easy. By taking Chunli, making her suffer, don't you think he will be pleased. Believe me, he will."

No answer came forth to that. Vega thought he understood why. As cold as Everick was, as ruthless as he could be, he hated when torture happened. Oh, he never showed it, but Vega knew assassins, knew their mannerisms, and although Everick was hard to read, he knew that he was right. This was the point on which they were both opposite - Everick killed quickly and cleanly, Vega killed slowly, with the utmost pleasure at inflicting pain to his enemy. He knew that this tread was what had cost him so much against the Chinese woman, he knew Everick would probably have won with barely a scratch, if asked to do it. But it was ingrained in him. And he really had no wish to fight it.

Everick stood up. "I have to be going." again he wore that preoccupied look. Vega felt a wave of curiosity.

"Everick...what's happening in the underworld?

The tall, black-garbed man went still, as if thrust into a wall - and from the look he had, it wasn't completely impossible a prospect. It was a mental wall, that he had no real wish to cross. Vega, as selfish and prideful as he was, could not help but sigh in worry.

"I have little links to the underworld these days. What I DO hear about are that skirmishes have become more frequent, that the gangs..."

"You are wrong. Find better sources. What they had to say is nothing of what really has happened since the battle at the SCD Headquarters near London. The truth of it all is far worse."

He caught Everick's edgy tone, and his worry intensified. Everick, never, NEVER looked worried, never acted as if he was the little bit fazed by what was happening around him. This was the kind of man who had once faced the full brunt of psychic attack without showing any emotion, even though the hurt must have been horrifying. He anxiously waited for Everick to continue. He eventually did, his voice unusually subdued.

"You have not the intention of returning to the streets right now, do you?"

Vega nodded.

"Then don't. That's the best advice I can tell you to do. Don't get involved. You're still far too weak." he started to draw shadows around himself, fading from view. Still the Spanish tried to understand.

"Mierda! What is happening in the underground, Everick?"

Everick looked at him. "War. And the downfall of the Circle."

And with that he was gone, leaving a very distraught man to ponder these news.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two days later...

Julia Simmons, newly promoted to the rank of Major and Commander of SCD, was stiffly walking to the private conference room where she'd asked that the five best field agents be gathered. She hadn't slept more than four hours a day for the last week, had had to read endless reports, be present at endless meetings with old commanders and generals and endure suggestions that had to do with modern warfare and not the one in the shadows - war fought with fists, stealth, information and a Hell of a lot of luck. Consequently she wasn't in the best of moods. She wondered how Brisby had put up with all the work and stress.

That was why she nearly tore the door to the conference room instead of opening it, making five already-tired-and-strained officers jump and drop the quiet, grim discussions they were doing to look directly at her. Suddenly feeling a tad foolish, she closed the door more softly, then made her way to her place at the head of the small conference table, and as she did gave a look to the five people.

Giorgio Castillo looked exactly like he was - a guy running on caffeine and adrenaline, who did and commanded more missions in the last two months than he had for the last two years. As usual, he was working up a quiet and relaxed attitude, but for some reason that seemed to clinch it somewhat. He was grim, eyes dark and bloodshot.

Steve Hemmerson wasn't looking much better, but hid it all as best he could. Tired as the others he certainly was, but the strict, by-the-book military officer seemed to want to sooner die than admit it at all. His composure was perfect, his clothes unruffled unlike the others, only his eyes betraying the same worry, the same frustration, the same weariness.

The most frustrated of them all seemed to be Lina Hattaway, who always seemed unhappy about something at the best of times but right now looked murderous. Her last operation had not gone too well, it seemed, as she'd nearly lost two men and had been routed by underground terrorists who worked alongside IRA.

The last two had worked as hard as anyone else, but for some reason neither looked as tired or as grim as the others. Jeremy Storm had shadows in his eyes, but not dangerous ones. His vendetta seemed to have cured most of the anger he felt, and he'd thrown himself into his work gladly and with determination. Cammy White, the former Shadowlaw Assassin which had risen to be highly respected in the SCD, seemed a little more grim, but lacked the usual tenseness as well. Julia spied Jeremy's hand disappearing below the table, followed by Cammy's, and understood. Of course they weren't as grim - they had each other for support. How sad that she must do what she had to do then.

As soon as she was seated, she explained the situation at hand, without preamble. "All right people. Things are heated right now in the underground and things are about to reach a crescendo in certain areas. Five of them, actually. And so I have agreed to send one of you and two less-experienced soldiers in support of the operations being carried out to contain the... problems."

Giorgio looked up at the ceiling. "Magnifico, we NEED more problems right now." he groaned. There was soft chorus of assent from the others. She ignored it, instead flicking on a tri-dimensional screen which showed the world. She highlighted and enlarged the first hotspot.

"Mawsil, Irak. UN Intelligence has confirmed that several groups of terrorists - IRA, Circle, KGB rebels - may be planning to overtake certain weapons facilities in the city. If they did so, the control all lawful organizations have on the situation on this region - which has, I'm sure you know well, not very stable and hasn't been since the Gulf War - would slip, cause chaos. The groups might overtake the city. And if they did, I'm certain our dear sir Saddam Hussein will react a bit rashly, and since there are ex-KGB, he might accuse Russia, and things could go downhill. Castillo, this will be your assignment." Castillo nodded decisively, and she switched to a second spot.

"Richmond, United States. Reports from FBI and Special Forces Agents infer that Circle agents may be hiding a big, destructive nuclear bomb somewhere inside the limits of the city. As it stands close to Washington, I am certain you understand the turmoil that might result. Storm, what would your country do, if something like this were to happen."

Storm seemed to consider his words carefully before responding. "Nothing very big - the United States will do something, shout high, create turmoil. No war. The only setback would be that they'd have the world caught up in it, allowing the Circle to slink away. And that's not mentioning all the lives lost."

Julia nodded. "This is your assignment, Storm. You will join up with Special forces there. Find that bomb and make sure it doesn't go off." with his assent, she switched to another place.

"Hong Kong, China. This one's from Interpol, who reported that they have found many of their agents dead within the northeastern parts of the town. The fashion in which they were killed might mean Circle operators and that means we have to check it out. Hong Kong is a very important, wealthy city, which contribute much to Interpol and, thus, indirectly to us. Some reports state that it may be some kind of new drug being conceived that have incredibly peculiar neurological effect. White, you will be sent to assist Interpol. Understood?"

"Understood, ma'am."

"Good. Now, Hamburg, Germany..."

She continued on with her last two missions, again detailing dangers that could escalate out of the underground, out in the open and then God knew what afterwards. All missions were accepted without an hesitation, without a note of disapproval. Yet she felt that the weariness had increased by a good notch, and she saw, in the young couple, a distress and sadness that took much to see. Giorgio certainly had see it too,and would chew her out later, but what choice did she really have in the matter? They WERE amongst the best field officers in SCD and she couldn't place them together, no matter how good a team they made.

At last she was finished, and directed a level stare at them all. "Here we are with this, people. I hope that this will go all for the best."

Lina gave a shrug. "Hope nothing. We'll do it. Its not like we have a choice, anyway!"

"Very astute, Lina." said Jeremy calmly, his eyes however fixed elsewhere, as if caught up by a grave decision.

"Thank you, Jeremy."

"Enough already!" stated Steve, with his usual military aplomb. "We have been given our orders and we certainly will have more detailed files about our respective missions, as always. My only question, then, is this. When do we leave?"

Julia shot a very quick look at White and Storm, and made her decision. "In two days. Until that, go home and rest. You'll need it once you're there." she took a breath "This war'll soon end, people. Rose'll make sure of that. Dismissed."

They did, filing our dutifully, except for Giorgio, who stayed behind, still seated relaxingly. She waited for him to make the first move. She didn't have to wait long.

"Rose, huh? It should be something worth seeing!"

"Yes, it should."

"I hope you know what you're doing, separating the kids." he shook his head, and left with a half-serious salute, closing the door behind him.

Yup. She had let loose the dogs of war, to preserve peace. And she'd given a blow to young love, to preserve love. How totally ironic. This was the kind of job that sent people to mental institutes. Brisby had once told her that holding to this job was a battle by itself, to live through a day another - the responsibility was THAT severe.

And yet the man had never wavered in his certainty, in his resolution to do what was right. And, being at his post, amidst the organization HE had created, she felt even more respect than the deep one she felt when her was alive.

But, God, how she wished he had chosen someone ELSE as a successor sometimes!

* * * * * * * * * *

The day after...

Cammy finished putting some clothes into her bag, and double-checked her list to see if anything was amiss. She was pretty certain that there wasn't, for she always had had a phenomenal memory and the knack to put anything she needed for a mission the first time. Only one time had she erred, and that was because the mission had ended two days sooner than expected and Jeremy had decided to spend those at the beach. She found she did not have a swimsuit - strangely, HE did - and had had to buy one. Even now she wondered if he hadn't done all this so that he could look at her trying different swimsuits.

There was nothing missing, and by the time she had finished scanning, she was starting to check her partner and lover's own bag. Jeremy didn't believe in keeping lists, whether in his head on on paper. Although very intelligent and a great field officer, he was reckless and somewhat forgetful, especially when he had to pack for a long trip. Once, he'd completely forgot to bring other pairs of socks, and after three days of wearing the same pair, she'd dragooned him into buying some. Although she doubted Captain William Guile would really take offense, she wished to spare him such an embarrassing situation.

It was in the midst of this revision that it really hit her. They were going in separate missions. Although they had done it before, it had never been more than three or four days, perhaps a week. Now, they'd be lucky if they saw each other in less than a month. No matter how much she tried to rationalize the decision, she still felt sadness and loss.

Ironic, wasn't it? In the last few months, they'd have more than their share of verbal fights - mostly instigated by her tendency to lose her temper, she could be fair in private - and more than once he'd gone to sleep on the couch, and she had grumbled to herself until she slept. Of course, these disputes never lasted more than a day - the one responsible for the mess apologized as soon as he or she could. But even those nights when she was angry, she felt good knowing that he was there, in the apartment, with her. How foolish this whole notion was, but also, how true.

"You know, I DID check that at least once." said a voice gently, with mock hurt.

She turned to see her boyfriend - wow, she was actually starting to get USED to the word - at the door of their bedroom, dressed as he usually did to go on the streets, minus the sneakers and the familial back gloves. He had one hand in his pocket, and seemed to be slightly nervous for some reason. She saw that, but decided to push him to say anything yet. She gave a teasing smirk.

"Well, I had to make sure." she mock-scoffed him "You always seem to forget something when you go out on a mission."

He cringed. "Well...not...ALWAYS!"

"Oh, really?" she smiled at him.

"Okay, okay! It happens." he sighed "No need to make such a big deal of it."

Again he seemed edgy, preoccupied, even a little scared. It had started a few days back, when he'd come back from a shopping trip he wouldn't tell her about, and since then she'd seen him steal anxious, uncertain looks at her, whether at work, or at home. Still he seemed to act as if nothing was the matter when she probed him about it. Was he having doubts about their relationship? The very thought froze her heart, but she admitted it was possible. After all, the man was barely twenty years old, and even though he acted much more mature than his age, he was just out of his teenage years. Doubts were as far from impossible as could be.

She licked her lips. "That's enough, Jer." he looked at her quizzically. "What is it these days?"

He looked troubled, but stubbornly held to his usual line in this situation. "Nothing's wrong. Its just that, you know, the war and all that, the stress in the streets, you understand that sometimes..."

"BULLS**T!" she exploded, making him jerk backward slightly. "You've been like this for days, way AFTER things started getting hot! And its not the STREETS that seem to bloody stress you out, it seems that its ME! And I want to know why?"

He scratched his head, uncomfortable, still hesitating under the door. She finally snapped, voicing her fears.

"If you think there's something you don't like in your relationship with me, say it!" she coughed slightly to cover the catch that was developing in her throat. "That way, we can deal with it as best we can."

Jeremy looked absolutely stunned by the remark. He came forward quickly. "What? Oh, no no no, there's nothing like that. There's no doubt about our relationship. Those doubts existed, but they were gone before you were even abducted by Shadowlaw. I like the relationship we share. Whatever gave you that weird idea about having doubts?"

"You did." she griped, not wishing to show the relief she'd felt at his words yet "With your silences, your looks when you thought I wasn't looking. How couldn't I wonder?!?"

He slapped his head at this. "Oh, man. You though that...and...ah, Cammy." he took her hand gently. "I'm sorry. So very sorry! Yes, there was something that bugged me for the past two days, but its more because of ME than because of you."

She raised her eyebrows, curious. "You? What is it?"

"Its not that easy to say, you know..."

"Love, I've been living with this for days without an explanation, and I'm blasted tired of it all. Just tell me what it is, darn it!" she growled.

He sighed, then slowly nodded. "Do you remember June eleven, nineteen ninety-seven?"

She nodded somberly. "That was the day I killed Minister Sellers." She would never forget that date, would in fact remember it expressly, for it showed what she had been under Bison's control. A mindless killer, who served only to please Shadowlaw, with no mind of her own. However, her answer wasn't exactly what her love had expected. He shot her an annoyed look, then shook his head.

"I should've seen that one coming. But to me, it was the day I met you. And the day it began. And since then, we've come a long way, and each day I've fallen in love with you a little bit more. But there was something missing, something that would make it, complete." now really nervous, he started to fish in the pocket he had been toying with before all this. She looked at it curiously, then her eyes widened as he took out a nice ring of gold with three small diamonds on it. She blinked, looked at Jeremy, then at the ring, then back and forth.

"But...that's..." she said.

He nodded nervously, swallowing noisily. "T-that's an e-engagement ring. Cammy, d-do you...do you want to m-m-marry me, become my wife?" he scratched his head. "I don't know what kind of husband I'll be, but I'll t-try..."

"Yes."

He looked at her nervous but joyous face. "What?"

"Yes! Yes, I want you to be my husband, yes, I want to be your wife, you ass!" she plucked the engagement ring from his fingers, put it on and then hugged his thunderstruck frame. "I never dreamed of being apart from you, not since...not since that night in Venice. You'll be a fine husband, I'm sure of it." she gave a shaky grin "And a better one if you can endure all my tantrums."

He exhaled in a sound that sounded both a sob and a laugh, his own muscular arms encircling her waist at last. "Thank God...I...I wasn't sure....I'm so glad! I love you, Cammy!"

"I know. I never doubted THAT. And I love you, too. Oh, yes, so much!"

They exchanged an exultant, relieved kiss after that, making it last, and hugged each other for a long time afterwards. Cammy was feeling blissfully happy for the first time since this stupid underground war had started. She wasn't sure if ANYTHING in her memory matched with the joy she was feeling, except perhaps one time...

There was an hard mission ahead for the both of them, and she knew they couldn't get married before the end of the war, before things became stable again. But it sufficed to know that they would. One day. They would marry and never be separated again in their hearts.

That day, she was sure, she would be the happiest woman in the world.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two days later...

EXCERPT FROM CHUNLI'S PERSONAL JOURNAL, OCTOBER 8, 1998

And here I come on one of the most surprising event of my day: Cammy White. And, believe me, it was something to me.

When I'd received reports that I'd be having Cammy along for this ride, I was less than happy or grateful. In fact, I admit I called up Giorgio Castillo - you know, that friend of mine - to tell me why SCD hated me like this. I then had the irritating time of being laughed at a while, then told by the man that I shouldn't be that gloomy about it, that I was lucky to have her with me for this. Needless, to say, I was doubtful.

Why was I? Well, I suppose it came from the fact that the last time I'd seen her, she'd just assassinated a Minister of Justice - a bad start with me - she was unable to say more than "I don't remember" when I questioned her - strike two - and worst of all, she worked for Shadowlaw - strike three. All right, I admit I did pity her because she'd been forced into it, but the impression she'd left was less than endearing.

I told Giorgio all that, but I was only rewarded with another laugh and a statement given in a mock-reprimanding voice. "She's changed more than you could ever imagine, Chun!" I was left with that, and accepted the fact that I'd have a very silent, introverted woman at my charge. That was the best my imagination could afford to give me.

Which proves that, in some areas at least, I really lack in imagination.

The girl that I saw was energetic, loud and confident. Her eyes were bright with determination and emotions of all kinds, although she kept a check on them sternly. She came to me politely, but genuinely eager to start working on solving this last problem that my superiors have laid on me - what a bunch of lazy old guys! Fah! She was very professional and immediately showed qualities that could decidedly be helpful.

Now don't think this came out of the blue. I DID read her file and saw the reports of some of her missions - these were enough to show that Giorgio hadn't lied. But it was only from our first discussion - well, SECOND, although I can't say the first could be called something as large as a CONVERSATION - that I believed it for myself.

"I'll do everything I can to help, ma'am." she told me seriously. And I knew it was the naked truth. The Shadowlaw doll I'd seen was gone, replaced by the one who'd been stuck inside her body for three years.

Oh, there were traces of those times still. Faint scars that I saw on her arms, so faint only an expert could see them, but present nonetheless. And pain. Pain had etched its mark in her expression as surely as violence had etched that scar on her cheek. But the pain was now buoyed by something else, hope, love. Yeah, love. I saw that hand of hers, noticed the golden ring clearly. She's engaged. From the reports, I know to whom. He must be something to have put up with her when she wasn't feeling fine, but I'm glad for them both.

So right now in the end I'm stuck with a woman who has a sweet personality when calm, and a scathing tongue when not - that SCD called Glosshouse made a mistake with something during practice, and had the mischance of catching her angry edge, poor guy! - not to mention a fighter more than worth mentioning. I've rarely had the occasion to say this, but she's one of those whom I think could hold their own against me, if not defeat me in battle. And those I haven't seen often these days. Anyway, I'm more at my desk than on the field these days. Sigh.

Well, at least in a few days we visit the Ishiri Clan to gather information, Cammy, I, Glosshouse and a fellow of my choosing. Should be an interesting time, at last! Not that I'm hoping for a fight, not really, but the tension would really help me alleviate the damning dullness of the fact that there's an underground war going and you're stuck reading field reports.

Damn, how the time flies. I should be going - last minute checks to go through with my superiors, than a call to Wolfman to decide on level of MI6 involvement in Hong Kong. Then, I hope, some sleep.

See ya!

END OF EXCERPT



EXCERPT FROM CAPTAIN GUILE'S PERSONAL NOTES, OCTOBER 8, 1998

I never considered how weird it would be to hang out a full day with a guy who's nearly half your age and find that you enjoyed it. Well, that's what happened to me today. A new kid who isn't that new.

His name is Jeremy Storm, from the famous SCD anti-terrorist organization. I had him assigned to my unit as some kind of advisor, while in fact I wanted nothing to do with a maturity-lacking kid in my midst. He'd gotten up to the rank of lieutenant, and I couldn't believe he could have gone up to that like this, not from SCD. But that kid surprised me. He was bright, a natural way of making contacts with people on the street, and good tactical judgement. He wasn't immature, either - that was my bad - and in fact showed more maturity than many older soldiers I've seen. He seemed respected by older soldiers that I myself respected - Culhen, Castillo, even Major Brisby - and I can understand why.

Not that he's not without his odd jerks of behavior - he's definitely reckless sometimes, and could make more than one man pee in his pants if he was irked. And its good, for these traits help him control another SCD he's brought with him. That one may be only slightly younger in age, but I'll be plain, they don't compare as either men or soldiers. That one - Demarais, I think his name is - has got the kind of arrogance and danger that put many missions in jeopardy. Storm seems to keep an eye one him more than the other - a professional, but strangely insecure young woman - and in a very tough manner. A good trait for a field officer.

The only problem is the age. The guy's twenty, for God's sake! My own daughter's only sixteen! And yet there seemed to be a world of pain and fighting separating the two. My wife and I - mostly my wife, I'm afraid - had shielded our precious little girl from harm. Not this one. This one had seen horrible things, had fought, maimed and killed people, and discovered how rotten the world is, and what those who want to defend what good remain in it must do.

Charlie would really have liked the kid, I'm sure, especially since he and another Storm - whom I learned was his uncle - had known each other and fought against each other years ago. And I'm stating to like him too, for he lost little time with presentations and was out on the backstreets of Richmond, gathering info and data. And he got quite a few interesting tidbits from it, too.

Seems like an ex-Shadowlaw goon that I remember meeting - if you can define fights as meetings - who goes by the name of Crackerjack's worked with those who implemented the supposed bomb. In fact, its possible that he knows everything on the Circle operation. Reports say the guy's back in Chicago with his gang, and we'll head there. It should be fun, fighting that mad dog again. Unless Storm does the job. Another thing about that kid: he's not only very bright, he's strong, very strong. I exercised this evening with him and he held his ground all the way! Yep, yep, this should be an interesting time, just ahead.

Oh, yeah, last thing about him. He's engaged to a girl. Yes, ENGAGED! To a person who, if memory serves, used to be one of Bison's mind slaves. They plan to get married as soon as things settle down underground - which should happen as soon as the Circle is soundly destabilized. I just had problems with it, until I remembered I was twenty-ONE when I proposed to my wife. Oh, well, I hope it works out for him.

But enough babbling. Time to go see how the others are doing with their daily exercises. And then, I'm gonna lock myself with Storm and we'll see how to take out Crackerjack.

Yup, should be fun soon.

END OF EXCERPT.