“Uh huh! Sure, I'll tell her!” Alicia eagerly spoke into her phone.

From her hospital bed, Chase had blearily watched the phone call excite Alicia to the point where she rose from her seat and paced back and forth for a couple seconds, before holding position in front of her room's wide, panoramic window. A foggy cold awaited Alicia once visiting hours were over and she had to leave.

“Okay, bye!” said Alicia. She hung up, and turned to Chase. “Great news, Chase! Melissa C.'s awake and doing fine!”

“That good to hear,” replied Chase, in a weak voice.

Her torso and limbs were heavily bandaged. She had arrived at the hospital as a piece of cheerleader-shaped swiss cheese. Anyone else would have been dead in seconds. But the staff of Sunnycrest Hospital had learned by this point not to underestimate Chase's resilience and will to live. “Not hurt?”

“No, I don't think she was really hurt,” said Alicia. “More like...turned off.”

Chase gave a gentle smile and closed her eyes. “That good. Glad Mel C. not hurt.”

Alicia walked over to her backpack and unzipped it. She pulled out a bag of bite-size Halloween candy. “Ta dah! My get well present to you. They go on sale after Halloween. Some of them even have nougat, your favorite.”

Chase was too weak to take it, but it would be waiting for her when she improved enough to sit. Her smile broadened faintly. “Leash nice. Thank you, Leash. Like treats and choc and nug nug.”

Alicia put the candy aside. “The fundraiser went really well. We made a lot of money. Plus, Lindsey got some really cute pictures.”

“That good,” said Chase. Her voice was fading. She was expecting to show Chase Lindsey's pictures, but hearing the fatigue Chase's voice, she stopped and simply watched Chase for a moment.

It looked like she was dozing off. Alicia put a tender hand on Chase's cheek, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes with her thumb. Chase didn't react at all.

Alicia decided to sit with her until she fell asleep. As she moved to pull a chair up to Chase's bedside, she heard Chase ask, “Leash?”

“Yes, Chase?” asked Alicia, surprised.

“Glad Mel C. not hurt.”

Chase's face did not look glad. She looked despondent, her brow slightly furrowed, as though she was enduring something the painkillers could not aid her with. Alicia forgot the chair, and sat down on the edge of Chase's bed. “Chase?” she asked, her voice a wisp of concern. “What's wrong?”

“Glad Mel C. not hurt,” repeated Chase. “Hurt Mel C. much in past. Was bad when hurt Mel C. Then find Leash and cheer. Now change. Now be good. Clean Mel C. brain, make hurt gone. But if hurt Mel C. more...” She was silent for a moment. It was difficult to keep her thoughts in order in her current state. “If hurt Mel C...means am still bad. Hurt friends bad. Now Mel C. hurt. Hurt from me close to her. Hurt friends is not change. Not good. Still bad. Still bad. Not want be bad. Not want.”

Alicia's heart broke. She felt herself start to tear up. “Chase, you've changed so much. Like I said, Melissa C. isn't hurt. She's fine. She's coming over here right now. You couldn't help that girl coming and attacking her. And you did a very good thing by saving her.”

Chase's expression softened. Her eyebrows untensed, and her blue eyes met Alicia's green ones bearing sadness. The fingertips of her right hand were poking out the end of her cast. Something unspoken in her asked for Alicia's touch, so Alicia wordlessly granted her wish, laying her own fingertips upon them.

“Not want Leash hurt from be close to me. Lin and Cait close to me too. Tor close to me too,” said Chase. “If must go far from Leash to keep Leash from hurt...must do. Must do.”

Alicia shook her head, horrified. “No one wants that, Chase. No one. I know you'll never let anything happen to us. I know I can count on you. I believe in you,” she said. She smiled. “Chase, I used to be scared sometimes, walking home alone at night after practice. Even in a small town like this. I used to be scared sometimes to go to sleep after watching one of those home invasion movies. I would get nervous walking in the woods, even with someone, wondering if there was a mountain lion or bear around. You might think you're putting us in danger...but I've never felt safer or more secure in my life knowing I have you for a friend.”

Chase stared at her for a moment, speechless, unable to break the gaze they shared. Then, she had to blink as tears started to flow. “Thank you, Leash. Thank you.”

Alicia gave the bandaged girl the best hug she could manage with Chase unable to lift her back up off the bed. “Thank YOU, Chase.”

“Leash?”

Alicia sat up. “Yes?”

“Please show pics Lin took.”

Alicia smiled. “Sure.” But by the time she had her phone out, Chase was asleep.

…........

Melissa C. pulled her shoelaces tight, then looped them into a knot. “You're sure visiting hours aren't over yet?”

It was early afternoon, and she, Lindsey, Caitlin and Lawrence were standing in Lawrence's foyer. Doc Lawrence had cleared Melissa C. for release, so they were eagerly getting ready to leave. “Oh, sure. I've visited Chase there a lot,” said Lindsey. She was still in her Frankenstein's Cheerleader costume. The green body paint was beginning to flake off in places. “We've got plenty of time. Wanna grab some tacos or something on the way there?”

After giving the laces a final cinch, Melissa C. stood. “Sure, I'm starving,” she said.

“Be sure to come back if you feel funny or you notice anything strange,” Lawrence told her.

They heard the sound of running water in the kitchen, and a woman's voice groaned in pain. The four of them looked. A woman in her mid 30s, dressed in a somewhat disheveled Harley Quinn costume, was filling a cup with water. Presumably Lawrence's mom, now emerged from her post-Halloween-party slumber.

Once she decided she had enough water for a swallow, she popped an asprin into her mouth and drank the water down. She winced, tossed the cup in the sink, and put a hand to her hungover forehead. “Ow...god...”

As she turned around to go back to bed, she spotted Lawrence. “Oh. Morning, sweetie. Keep it down for a few hours, oka-” Then, she saw the girls. “Who are they?”

“Oh, uh, nobody, mom,” said Lawrence quickly. “Just some friends from school.”

His mom sighed and kept moving. “Lawrence will do your homework for you later, girls. Can't handle a house full of people right now.”

“Um, he's not doing our homework for us,” Melissa C. replied.

“Yeah. We were just leaving,” Lindsey confirmed.

Lawrence's mom stopped and turned back to the group. She slowly looked at the three cheerleaders, then at her nerdy son, then back at the girls.

“They slept over?” she asked Lawrence.

“Oh...yeah. Sorry I didn't ask-”

Lindsey smacked him on the back of the head. “No! No ma'am, we did not!” she replied.

“As if!” agreed Melissa C.

Lawrence didn't understand this reaction at first, but then he caught up. “Oh. Uh, right. They didn't sleep over.”

His mom looked them up and down. She blinked. “And yet they're still wearing their costumes from last night?”

“Uh...” Lindsey looked down at herself. “Yeah, I guess we are. Wow. How about that?”

Melissa C. stammered, “That...That's just because...!”

Lawrence's mom laughed. “You don't have to come up with an excuse. I'm not mad.” She looked at Lawrence fondly. “I'm proud. My little boy's becoming a man.”

“WHAT?! No he isn't!” argued Melissa C.

“He isn't and he never will!” Lindsey vehemently agreed.

“I always knew you were a late bloomer, Lawrence,” the woman continued. “I just hope you're being safe.”

“Safe from what?!” Lindsey replied. “There's nothing to be safe from!”

His mom giggled. “Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I'm embarrassing you. Say no more. I'll just go back to my room now.” She turned back toward her bedroom, shaking her head and marveling, “Kids these days...”

Caitlin had been silent since she found the disk. After Lawrence's mom was gone, she told Lindsey and Melissa C. to go on ahead. She needed to stay behind for a moment to talk to Lawrence.

“Sorry about my mom,” he told her, once they were alone. “She-”

“Can I ask you something?” Caitlin interrupted.

Suddenly realizing he was talking to a girl one-on-one, Lawrence became nervous. “S-sure, go ahead.”

Caitlin reached under her shirt, and pulled out the disc. “Lawrence, what is this?” she asked. Under the basement light, shiny black sharpie glinted off the disc's surface. It read: MELISSA C. BACKUP.

“Oh, that,” said Lawrence. “Did you find that in my files? That was my final backup of Melissa C.'s memory, from before it was wiped.”

Just as Caitlin thought. Lawrence saw from the expression on her face that he should not have been so honest. “What the HELL, Lawrence?” asked Caitlin.

“What? What's wrong?” asked the boy, pushed back on his heels by her tone.

“Why do you have this? You know how dangerous it is! The Melissa C. that's on here is tortured, violent, and insane! This could kill people! It could destroy her life again!”

“I, I was backing up her memory regularly then,” said Lawrence. “It was just standard operat-”

“Why didn't you destroy it? Surely you're not planning on ever using it! You're smarter than that!”

Lawrence shook his head. “N-no! Never! I don't want to restore those memories, but...” He met her eyes. “But those memories contain the only evidence we have that could lead us to who hurt her, who killed her friends. I don't want to give her those memories back, but if there was some way to extract that information...I can't figure it out, but if somebody could, but don't you think she deserves that? Isn't that worth it?”

Caitlin bit her tongue. If she disagreed, it would make him wonder why. She couldn't just tell him that she knew perfectly well who hurt Melissa C. and killed her friends...and that it was Chase.

“Look, I know I screwed up by helping Agent Stevens, and I know I did it for selfish reasons,” continued Lawrence. “I'm trying to do the right thing now.”

Caitlin wavered for a moment. “Fine,” she said, slipping it into the pocket of her lab coat. “But I'm keeping it.”

“But-”

Her eyes flashed. “I'm keeping it,” she said firmly. She felt she had never been so firm about something in her life. It was a shade of her mother, the resilient, brassy part of her that made her a good cop. “And Melissa C. can never know about this.”

“She won't.”

“And...” Caitlin hesitated. She closed her eyes. “And neither can Chase.”

“Chase?” asked Lawrence curiously. “Why not Chase?”

“Just don't let her find out,” said Caitlin. “For her sake, Melissa C.'s sake, everyone's sake.”

….............

“Yes. Yes. I see,” Agent Wohr spoke into his phone. He listened, and his face fell.

He glanced at Director Abraham. The man was bent over his billiards table, lining up a difficult bank shot.

Wohr looked away. “You're sure?” he asked seriously. After another pause, he said, “Very well.” He hung up.

Director Abraham did not ask him about the call. He was waiting patiently for Wohr to speak. During the lull in conversation, he snapped off his shot. The two ball went rolling into the corner pocket.

“We have confirmation from the recovery team,” said Agent Wohr. “Agent Han is dead.”

Abraham didn't speak for a moment. He straightened, and chalked his cue. “Pity.” His expression was unreadable.

“Pity?” echoed Agent Wohr. “Director, I don't need to tell you that if our military contacts catch wind of this, we'll be completely defunded.”

“No, I suppose you don't,” mused Abraham. “It took billions of their dollars to make her, after all. Not to mention, decades of labor. And I've gotten her killed.”

“Her genetic material can be salvaged,” said Wohr. “Perhaps we can recoup some of our losses...”

“I'm not particularly interested in Agent Han's genetic material anymore,” said Abraham. He considered going for the five ball, then spotted something more appealing: the thirteen. “This operation has proven C-13, and indeed, the entire C series, to be a costly failure. I'd be reluctant to waste another cent on it.”

Agent Wohr was speechless for a moment. Abandon the C series? A costly failure? He suddenly felt sick. Why? Fear for the future of the project? No, he was not that emotionally attached. He realized it was pity. He had always slightly feared Agent Han. You couldn't know the girl and not fear her. But she believed in Abraham. Her mockery of a life was modeled to meet his goals. And now he was done with her. “You can't be serious,” said Agent Wohr.

But Director Abraham was not a joking man. “It's incredible, isn't it? Billions of dollars spent trying to manufacture our own super soldier, our own perfect killer, and yet the wild unpredictability of nature trumps all our efforts. This girl appears, descended from the mountains like Moses himself with the ten commandments in his arms, to remind us how little the hands of man can accomplish compared to the hands of God. How very humbling.”

He took the shot. The thirteen ringed its way into the side pocket, and he picked up the seven as well. An unexpected bonus.

“From now on, all of my attention will be focused on this cannibal girl, this Chase. She could possibly be the most promising acquisition this project has ever seen.”

“You mean you're still going to try to capture her?!” asked Agent Wohr.

“Of course. I want her more than ever,” said Director Abraham.

“But even Han couldn't bring her in!”

The cue ball settled on the far end of the table. Director Abraham walked around to it. “Are you quite certain you don't want to play a game?” asked Director Abraham.

Agent Wohr said nothing. He watched in silence as Director Abraham polished off the eight. The table was clean. As the bald man hung his cue back on the wall, he answered, “You're correct, of course. I don't think anyone could force Chase to come here if she didn't want to.” He turned to face the younger man. “I should be the one to tell Andrea what's happened. You can come along, if you wish.”

…...........

The two men left the rec room and walked down the hall to the elevator. They went down, down, down, to the lowest floor of the building, deep beneath the ground's surface.

They stepped out. After three separate security clearance checks, they found themselves standing in a long hallway with plain white walls and metal doors with no handles. Beside each door was a small control panel, with a key pad.

Abraham walked to the last door on the right. He pressed a button on its panel, and held it down.

A woman's voice, tinny and processed, was delivered through a speaker above the door. “Yes?”

“Good afternoon, Andrea,” said Director Abraham. “I have something important to tell you. May we come in?”

“Who's we?”

“Agent Wohr is also with me.”

“Ah, Agent Wohr. Such a nice boy. Please, be my guest.”

Abraham punched in an eight-digit code on the pad, then swiped his security card through the slot next to the buzzer. A beep was heard, and the door slid open. He and Wohr walked inside.

Inside was a woman. Dark, shoulder-length hair, with bangs. East asian features. Middle aged, but aging gracefully. Her cell was comfortable. Separated from the two men by a sheet of bulletproof glass was her living room, but Wohr knew that beyond it she had a bath, kitchen and two bedrooms. She sat on a couch with a book in her lap and the TV on.

“Ah, good evening, gentlemen,” said the woman. There was a coffee cup on the end table, and she picked it up. She rose from the couch and moved to an easy chair, so she could face her guests more directly. She toasted them. “Happy Halloween.”

“That was yesterday, Andrea,” said Director Abraham.

“Was it? I'm sorry. I do lose track of time in here,” she looked at Wohr. “Agent Wohr, how've you been? How's the fiancée?”

Agent Wohr stiffened a little. If Agent Han creeped him out, Andrea fully frightened him. “I've been fine, ma'am,” he said, and left it at that.

Andrea smiled. His discomfort cheered her up a little. “Oh, that's wonderful, dear.”

“As I told you, Andrea, I have some unfortunate news,” said Director Abraham somberly.

Andrea looked at him. “Well? Go on.”

“It's C-13. She's dead.”

A silence followed. The woman pursed her lips, then brought her cup to them. “So you broke one of your toys. Why should I care?”

“She was made using your egg. In many ways, she was your daughter.”

The woman looked confused for a moment, then gave a cold, coy smile. Agent Wohr glanced away. There it was. Somehow, that smile was the most unsettling thing about her. His least favorite part of these little visits. She sat back in her chair, and crossed one leg over the other. “That abomination was not my daughter. That was your creation, Abraham. Your mistake, not mine.” She paused to take a sip of coffee, but her tone made it clear that there was more coming. Abraham and Wohr waited for her to finish her statement without knowingly intending to.

“You men all think the same,” Andrea Cha continued. “You thought you could take what made me such a successful killer, and improve it. And what did you give her to accomplish this? Masculine traits. Physical strength. Boldness. Mastery over emotion.” She laughed. “It's incredible. You completely failed to grasp the obvious. You failed to grasp that what made me efficient WAS my emotions. My heart. My sympathy.”

“I did not kill emotionlessly. I killed because my emotions would not permit me to stop. I killed because I had needs that could never be fulfilled, desires that could never be satisfied.”

When it was clear she was done, Abraham calmly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It is...true. We failed, I failed, to make the most of the unique opportunity you presented. The C series was...an unequivocal failure.”

Andrea set her cup down. “Then I suppose you're here to kill me,” she said calmly.

“On the contrary. You're a talented woman, Andrea. I find that talented people are always worth keeping around, if their talents can be wielded for my benefit. I come to you only with a proposition.”

“Oh, good. By the way, I'm out of coffee beans.”

“You'll be able to go get your own, soon,” said Director Abraham. Andrea looked up in interest. He paced to the wall. “C-13 did not die on an ordinary operation. She died trying to obtain a significant prospect for this program.”

“A prospect?” asked Andrea. “An ordinary girl killed her?”

“If she can be called that,” said Director Abraham. “I see now that in a game of brute force, I will not be able to best her. I'd like you to try things your way.”

“You're going to let me out? On the outside?” asked Andrea in disbelief. She didn't dare to feel the excitement, the hope, that she wanted to feel.

“Temporarily,” said Director Abraham. He thought of something to sweeten the deal further. “Of course, if you prove on this assignment that your usefulness extends beyond the conclusion of the C series, perhaps similar arrangements can be made in the future.”

Andrea mentally took several passes at this proposal, each one revealing new possibilities to her. She could get out of here, true. But there were also the things she could do when she WAS out. She had to consider those. Her heart began to pound. Lusts she'd repressed for decades of confinement began to stir, shake off the cobwebs.

She propped up her elbow on the armrest, then rested the edge of her jaw on her fist. “Tell me more.”