Feb 9th – 20h00

Ransacked. Drawers emptied. Computer equipment lay broken and scattered on desks and the floor. Surfaces pulled apart. Drawers upended on surfaces or hanging from their hinges, their contents barely inside. Glass partitions lay shattered, showing the cupboards in the rooms they concealed. It was a mess.

Breanna stood in the middle of the chaos, understanding why the remote link had failed blossomed. The server wires hung from the wall while the smashed casing and contents sprayed across the floor. Looking around, she could feel the hate hanging in the air, frustration on display. The back wall in her office showed the person's strength sent to do this damage. Walking into her office, she looked at the deep dent in the thick wall of the ancient building.

Darcia.

The only person who had anything strong enough to make a dent in something that had stood against the forces of mother nature for centuries.

Fortunately, it seemed whatever was being looked for remained unfound. Careful not to disturb anything, Breanna moved to a section of floor space knelt on one knee, carefully pushing the broken pieces of glass to one side. She pulled the well fitted but removable floorboard, laying it carefully to one side. A hollowed-out area appeared, and a thin, long metal container no bigger than a sunglasses case sat in the dusty darkness. Retrieving and pushing it into a concealed pocket in her jacket, she replaced the board and stood. Time to leave. She would not be coming back to this place or job. Memories played through her mind of the years she had worked in this building and at this company. Pressing down on the transmitter to let Jesse know that she was on her way, Breanna took one last look around before starting for the entrance.

The back entrance would have been better, but the stairwell was filled with rubble. Had the searchers blown the escape route on purpose? The question repeated itself like an incessantly talkative canary. Glad she had been able to get away from the noisy house without anyone insisting on coming; not an easy task. Especially when the house was full of curious, nosy people. Purposefully Breanna had not mentioned tonight's mission to anyone. She expected a level of challenge during this mission. Besides, it was safer if it was only herself present. It surprised her to find the building locked and forced into using her "Zorro technique" to get in. Getting out would be just as challenging, but she knew she could achieve a flawless exit. The lifts didn't seem to be working, and she was not in the mood to draw attention to herself tonight. The stairs were the best option. Silently Breanna descended to the ground floor, stopping in the darker shadows as the air moved about her and a slight shuffling noise came to her sensitive ears.

She was not alone.

Breanna took in the ransacked foyer area and realised the entire building had been rifled through.

"Well, well, well," the words greeted Breanna from the opposite shadows, "look who's come to play."

Across the foyer, five shadows stepped into the hazy light from the street lamps, bringing Breanna's attention to the gaping space to the main entrance.

"Play? Are you expecting me to play?" Breanna spoke softly, "not fair that you know me, but I don't know you."

The middle shadow stepped forward, leaving two shadows on each side, forming a "V".

"We have orders to bring you in," the same voice said, "and you will come quietly."

"Take me where?" Breanna indicated the area around them, "if you think I did this, you are mistaken."

"Sir, she has a weapon and numerous electronic devices on her," another shadow spoke, "I'm guessing one of them holds the information."

"Devices? Don't any of you have iPads or mobile phones?" Breanna said, exaggerated innocence dancing through her words, "I take it you are not local law. Who are you?"

"Darcia sends her regards," the middle shadow said, raising and aiming a weapon.

Breanna breathed in deeply, preparing to unleash a mental knock out punch when her sensitive ears picked up a high pitched beeping from the front entrance. An energy sensation behind the shadows had her diving to the left, behind an overturned desk, as a gunshot rang out, barely missing her. Landing hard on her side Breanna checked her jacket; the bullet had grazed the sleeve badly but only nicked her arm. A supposed kill shot. Anger rose. Quickly gaining control over smouldering emotions, Breanna inhaled while pushing into a crouch. The first thing she had to concentrate on was getting out alive. Valencia would never let her hear the end of it if she didn't. Approaching feet halted as the sound of something rolling came to her. She knew that sound well. Covering her head with her arms, she tucked in closer to the desk as the rolling item exploded, sending the shadows scuttling for shelter and introducing much-needed confusion.

"Do you see her?" the question rang out in the smoke-filled room.

Carefully Breanna looked over the top of the desk. She watched three people storm the entrance, hesitate while glancing around as though expecting to see only one person, not five heavily armed, angry men. Breanna thought she saw one of them shrug before stepping forward and engaging a member of her welcoming party. Talk about odd. What was going on? Who were the second crew?

No one seemed concerned about her whereabouts or that she might get away. Standing up, she watched the two crews engage. The more minor team seemed to be doing pretty well. One of them was taking on two assailants simultaneously. A short way from them, another two unevenly matched opponents moved through the motions; the smaller person was very agile, while the larger seemed stronger. The sudden irony of the whole affair struck Breanna; folding her arms over her chest, she chuckled. She could leave without anyone being aware she was moving. Stepping out of her hiding place, she headed for the open entrance only to find a body filling the doorway. Quickly melting into the shadows, she frowned as the dark clothed, hooded body stared into the room. Was he looking for someone? Following the direction of his head, she calculated he was staring directly at the short person in the middle, the one busy with the two assailants. The one about her size and build. Pushing out her enhancement, she sensed malice, bone-deep hatred and dishonourable intentions.

Something resonated with the idea this was all a staged encounter. Darcia had orchestrated everything. Why? For whom or whose benefit?

Breanna stilled as a weapon appeared in a gloved right hand, aiming in a calculated manner in the direction of the fighting group. It may be a charade and not her battle, but she could not stand aside when another was about to be unknowingly shot.

Stepping out of the shadows, she ambled toward the entrance as the head turned toward her. Surprise widened eyes and open mouth indicated Breanna was known to the person at the door and the two crews presently fighting.

"Looking for someone?" Breanna asked.

"Not possible," the vaguely familiar bone-chilling, raspy voice said, "you're supposed to be dead, out of my way."

"What name do you go by?" Breanna narrowed her eyes, bracing her feet out of habit. Her memory worked through its files holding that voice, and her heart pounded with the swelling sense of dread filling her chest and squeezing her throat.

"The same name as always," that niggling voice said, "but now I have skills that will never fade."

Breanna felt pain rip through her core as a distant memory burst into her mind. Panther. The only person she knew who could rip at the body's nerves through the mind. It couldn't be the same experiment she was tested against in Darcia's lab. Breathing in, Breanna willed her shield in front of her, pushing the pain out until she was finally blocking out the agony ripping her apart from the inside.

Breathing out, she opened her eyes, meeting the look of disbelief.

"It is not possible for anyone but Darcia to repel me," Panther screamed, drawing the attention of the others, "you are supposed to die. You must die."

Breanna barely had time to blink before a knife sang past her ear, embedding in the wall behind her. Turning, she found herself the centre of a volley of punches and kicks coming so fast it took all her concentration to deflect them. Her abilities burst from their restraints, her anger rising to furnace level, burning away any control she had. The sound of a cocking gun instinctively had her ducking; the ringing shot whistled over the top of her head, close enough to feel the heat. Her anger exploded inside of her, bursting into her chest. Whipping out her gun, she returned the shot, hitting the target as she landed a roundhouse kick on another of her assailants.

For a split second, everyone seemed to freeze, as though watching another hit the ground was unexpected. Breanna knew her suspicions were correct. It was staged ... for her benefit. Holstering her gun, she threw up her mental defence and took the offence. She may be the target, but she would not be terminated or retrieved. Not now or ever.

In a blur on hands, feet, heads and batons, Breanna went to work to get to the door. The sound of other gunshots rang out. Breanna quickly looked around. She could not see the shooter in the room. She felt her anger explode from her while snapping her eyes open. Suddenly the door appeared in front of her. Just outside, Jesse sat in a white panel van. The side door standing open. The engine running. Before sprinting toward the open door of the van Breanna turned on automatic, pulling something from her belt and throwing it into the building.

Landing on her back of the rubber covered floor inside the van Breanna spotted a movement on the wall outside the building as Jesse started pulling away. The shadow slinked along the wall disappearing as the door slid shut, enclosing her in darkness. Lying in the dark, Breanna drew in a deep breath, trying to find clean air through the smell of gunfire, smoke and the explosion that followed her exit. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think of what she had just done for the safety of her charges and herself. Pushing into a sitting position, she dropped her head to her bent knees, resting for the remainder of the ride home. Breanna tried remembering details about Panther. Her mind went over and over the slither of memory before it was gone.

Hiding the van successfully between thick shrubs, the two walked onto the beach, enjoying the moment of peace found in the sound of crashing waves. Nearing the house, the sound of raised voices drifted to them.

"Valencia is having a cow," Breanna sighed, slowing as they reached the patio, "thank you for tonight, Jesse."

"You know I have your back, Bre, no problem," Jesse spoke with a slight Spanish accent, recently picked up from the few months of his travels, "did you see the figure in the shadows?"

"I saw something when I was in the van, but I'm not sure what it was," Breanna frowned, "there was a lot of gunfire, but I only remember pulling my gun once, and I didn't see the other shooter."

"Whoever it was, wasn't outside. The shooting came from inside. Plus, once you were in the van, the shadow disappeared. Maybe you had more backup than they thought. You know everything gets recorded in the van. We can have a look in the morning," he smiled gently, "let's face the cow."

Breanna chuckled while stepping onto the patio, pulling the kitchen door open she met sudden silence.

"Oh heavens. What happened?" Valencia spluttered, fingers covering her lips.

Breanna took in the small group before looking down at her dishevelled appearance. Jesse seemed to freeze in position staring at the worried, fiery redhead barreling toward them. Swallowing hard. His eyes fixed on Valencia. Breanna stepped between them.

"You know a physical retrieval was the only option. On my way out of the building, I met up with... a welcoming party," glancing at Jesse, "meet Jesse, an old friend of mine."

"Damn," Clio whispered while staring wide-eyed at Breanna, "how many did you take on?"

"Why?" Breanna frowned.

"By the look of you," David shook his head, "you either bathed in a battlefield, or you worked your way through a few assailants. How many were there?"

"Does it matter?" Breanna said, pulling off her shredded jacket and taking the unscathed case out of her concealed pocket.

"Did you think of taking back up as suggested," Valencia snarled, "did you think for a minute what would happen to everyone here if you died? No, you didn't. Off you go to do your Ninja, Kung-fu stuff and think you're damned invincible. Well, guess what? You're not, you stubborn idiot."

Silence met the rush of angry words. Valencia stood glaring furiously; her heavy breathing filled the awkward silence.

"I took your suggestion into account. Endangering anyone else while fixing this mess was not an option," Breanna said, moving slowly toward Valencia. "What was waiting for me was enough of a challenge without worrying about getting someone else out alive. I barely got out alive, and don't lecture me on not caring."

"Okay," Jesse said, easing between the two women, "Valencia is angry because she worries about you, Bre. Val, Breanna is angry. I'm not sure why. It's more than just being challenged, but I think we'll find out soon. Now, I'm going to ditch the van," Jesse said, looking between the two, "if I step out from between you, will you step back and breathe?"

He waited until the two women stepped away from each other, inhaling as they did.

"Good," he turned to Breanna, "I take it that I will need to come back here after ditching the van."

"I sense that after tonight your vanishing days are over," Breanna said quietly, meeting Jesse's earnest gaze, "and another vehicle will be required."

"After a waiting period," he said evenly, "can you two not kill each other before I get back."

Both women sighed and nodded.

"Good."

"Valencia will make sure you have everything you need when you get back," Breanna said.

Looking across at Clio, Tania, Fiona and David, Breanna took each in.

"Relocation is no longer a possibility. Someone is working with Darcia, and when I find them... God help them," Breanna patted at her shirt, dust flying in the air. "I can deal with my life being screwed up. When Darcia starts to manipulate others back into her sick games … I get agitated. We meet in fifteen minutes, Jesse included. I intend to find out what the hell is going on."

She continued moving across the living room, disappearing up the stairs.

"What does "agitated" mean?" David whispered into the silence of the kitchen.

"You know Darcia's crazed sessions," Clio's soft words drifted on the air, "take the crazed out and replace it with raging anger."

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" David whispered.

"Heaps," Jesse mumbled, "you haven't seen anything yet. Breanna is angry, and that is not what Darcia wants. Ever."

"Before we get into more trouble, let's get this show on the road and meet back in fifteen," Valencia said,

From the top of the stairs, Breanna heard the conversation. She smiled as Valencia spoke with a natural authority. Grateful for Jesse and Valencia's never-ending loyalty, Breanna exhaled hard. Life was going to get messy before it got better.

Stepping into the hot shower, Breanna allowed the hot water to hit aching muscles and sensitive skin. The temperature of the water did not match the heat of her rage. Soaping down and washing her hair, she went through the events of the last couple of days. She didn't like the mental map of "connect the dots" playing in her head. She disliked that it came back to what she had been trying to ignore since the safe house evacuated.

Someone was selling them out. One-piece at a time. Breanna needed to find out who and why. Thumping her fists against the shower wall cracking the tiny tiles, she snarled in frustration, not wanting to return to this life. She didn't want to become something she hated.

"Dammit," she bellowed into the swirling heated soap smelling mist.

She couldn't ignore that the people in this house wouldn't survive her sick, twisted, manipulative sister. Snarling again as she realised she would have to step up and be the very thing put away. Be worse than those spy novels and movies she used for escape. Heaven above!! She was worse. The only difference was choice. She chose to use her abilities and skills to defend those unable to. Cutting off the water, she grabbed a towel and dried off, staring at her reflection in the ceiling to floor mirror next to the door; she growled, "It's payback time."