Notice: This is a fan fiction of based upon the stories in Lilith Langtree’s “Comics RetCon Universe”. The story is mine, but some of the characters are not. White Queen, Mystique, Wolverine, Magneto from Marvel Comics’ X-men are trademarks of Marvel Comics. All rights reserved. The Riddler and Green Arrow are trademarks of DC Comics. All rights reserved. To the best of my knowledge, all the other characters are fiction. Any resemblance to a living, dead or undead person is completely random.

Note:Well, this one took some time. Sorry. I have been pretty darn busy over the last few weeks. Chapter 12 is 99% +/- 10% done, but I want to let it simmer and based upon feedback to this chapter; make fixes. Here it is, enjoy! Please. Special thanks to my editors for helping to keep me on track, mostly. Hehe. Thanks to djkauf for editing.

** Chapter 11 **

“Whoa there.” Special Agent Faraday motions for me to calm down. “I’m sorry, Valerie. I know what it must look like, but I have to cuff you until I can get you into the car and out of sight.” He points in the general direction of outside. “If we lead you out of here without being cuffed, the waiting press would have a field day.”

His explanation goes a long way to calm me down. I don’t know why my emotions are so close to the surface and volatile. Okay, well, I guess I do know, but I always thought that women were just more emotional because they wanted to be or because a man, not me, was being an asshole. Still, I don’t like having to wear cuffs again, but in all honesty, I expected worse. He has been nothing but professional to me. “Okay, sorry...” I say, feeling slightly ashamed as I turn around so that he can cuff my hands behind my back.

Faraday surprises me with a gentle touch on my shoulder, directing me to turn back to face him. “I think we can forgo that discomfort, don’t you?” He asks as he motions for me to put my hands in front of me.

“Now, do you like cream and sugar with your coffee?” Faraday asks, looking down at me with confusing blend of humor, steel and compassion as he snaps his cuffs to my wrists.

I blink with confusion. “Honestly, I don’t know.  I haven’t tried any coffee since I changed, but I used to drink it black.”

I warm up pretty fast after they lead me out of the room.  They must keep the interrogation rooms extra cold just to mess with people and put them more on edge.  I catch a glimpse of Jen on my way towards the back of the station.  She spots me and she stays true to the plan by pretending to be scared of me. I know that she is only acting, but it still hurts a little because I know that is how most people will react to me in the future. I am different and I am scary looking. The female officer helping her, glances at me and scowls with disapproval before she turns back and comforts Jen.

Special Agent-in-Charge Brown drapes an  FBI jacket over my head, and then, he and Faraday hustles me through the gauntlet of reporters and toward the standard black SUV.  I am grateful for the jacket because all the flashbulbs going off would have blinded me.  

“Mystique! Now that you have been captured, what are your plans?!”
“Mystique! Mystique! Over here! Will your henchmen bust you out of jail?”
“Mystique! Are you going to get revenge for being double crossed?”
“Will you accept the offer to model for Playboy and who will you pretend to be!?”
“Mystique! What about...”

Thankfully, the last question is cut off by the SUV door closing.  Playboy?!?! Really? That might be kind of, no wait, what am I thinking? I only read that magazine for the articles, honest.  I am distracted from that line of thought when Faraday hands me a steaming cup of coffee. The taste is a little bitterer than I remember, but I savor the warmth as I cautiously sip from it.  

During the ride to the airstrip, I am grateful for the FBI jacket since my costume is rather revealing and not at all warm.  Initially, the cuffs make things a bit difficult, but true to his word, Faraday motions for one of the agents in the back with me to remove my cuffs. Following a script that could be from Hollywood, we pull into a hangar where a private jet is waiting with its door ramp down.  The jet’s engines start to spool up as soon as the SUV’s doors open.

I am escorted into the waiting jet and Faraday gestures for me take a seat in a row of seats that has a small table between them, like a small work table.  He takes the seat opposite of me and as I buckle in, I decide that a private jet is way more comfortable than flying coach.  For one, the seats are leather and as a result, much more comfortable.

The takeoff is uneventful, but that is how they are supposed to go.  It is still a little unnerving though. A private jet is much smaller and more fragile feeling compared to a large commercial jet. It probably would be more exciting if I wasn’t a prisoner though.  I always imagined myself on a private jet sipping champagne and hanging with my pal Milla.  Reality is not nearly as cool.

As soon as we level off, a young and pretty female flight attendant cheerfully offers everyone their choice of coffee, soda or water.  However; for me, she purses her lips in anger. “Can I get you something, ma’am?” She asks, brusquely.

I wouldn’t mind some water or better yet, a nice rare steak, but hell if I am going to let her serve me.  She might spit in it or something. I guess that I should not be surprised by her behavior, but it still catches me off guard. I glance up at her and read her name badge. “No thanks, Heather, but thanks for asking.” I say, smiling in an effort to kill her with kindness.  

That works. She takes a half step back and glances nervously to Faraday.  “Water, please.” He says.  

Heather nods and rushes off to the front of the plane.

“Yes, she was rude and I could see that you were trying, but you need to ease up on the fear aura.” Faraday says, reproachfully.

“My what?” I ask, dumbfounded by his accusation.  I have no idea why some people are afraid of me. I thought it was due to my weird looks. It can’t be due to something that I am doing, can it?

Faraday looks at me like he is trying to figure out if I am trying to make a joke. “Valerie...”

I feel a twinge of identity confusion when he calls me Valerie.  I felt comfortable as Ally.

He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a plain manila folder with Valerie ‘Mystique’ Wilson printed on it.  Opening it, he surprises me when he pulls out a copy of the DBO game manual. “I guess that it is possible for you not to know, but according to the game manual; certain members of the dark elf race had a built in fear power or aura as they called it.”

I know that Dr. Random said the 4th World history was surprisingly accurate, but the manual can’t be that accurate, can it? “Umm, I have a fear power or spell or whatever it is that I can cast. Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Are you casting or using that?”

“No? Not that I am aware of anyway...” I say as I scramble to recall if maybe I am casting something.  If I am somehow casting the single target fear, that would certainly explain a lot of the strange reactions that I have received.  I think back and recall all the times when someone appeared to be more scared of me than they should have been. Although, I think that if I did cast my fear spell, the target would run away from me screaming in terror, not just act a little scared.

“Hmmm, maybe that is true. I have had some people act a little scared of me. It was only when I was mad or irritated with them.  Ummm, certain members?” I ask as I recall the little caveat with his explanation.

Faraday smiles and sits back in his chair. “Yes, members of the royal family...”

I feel my jaw hit the table with shock. Me? Royal?  No way!

“...but occasionally people who had the favor of Liloth, the evil goddess of the Dark Elf race, were able to use the fear aura power.  Didn’t you read this to play the game?”  Faraday asks with a trace of accusation as he holds up the manual.

“Umm, no?  No one that I know reads the history of the game world.  We just read enough of the manual to get started with playing the game.  The more that you have to read the manual, the worse the game is.” I say.

He looks at the DBO manual and shrugs his shoulders. “I guess that makes sense.”

I am a little surprised about the royal thing, but it is not like being a royal dark elf would get me anything extra these days anyway.  Finding out that I am a princess would be all that I need right now.  Some dark elf prince would just want to marry me and make me have his babies or something else domestic and royal like.  Do your part and save an extinct species. I shiver at that prospect.

“Anyway, I guess it shouldn’t surprise me if I do have a fear aura thing, but if I do, I have no idea on how to control it.” I pause and sit back into my seat. “Well, maybe I could work on controlling my temper a bit more. That might be it, but I am not sure how that will go since I am still getting used all of this.” I say as I gesture to my body with frustration. My bare, blue and silky smooth legs are so much more distracting than my normal colored and silky smooth high elf legs. That is kind of funny.

“Normal colored and silky smooth high elf legs?”

Really, those are normal?  Normal would be my standard issue, Caucasian flesh tone, large and hairy man legs that I was perfectly happy to call my very own up until last week. Heather causes me to pause in my body image issues when she returns with Faraday’s bottle of water.  She glances nervously at me before returning back to her station at the front of the plane.  

“Do you want it?” Faraday asks, glancing down at the unopened bottle.

That surprises me, but also makes me suspicious. How did he know?  Well, I doubt that they spiked it with something. “Umm, sure. Thanks.” I say as I lean forward and take the offered bottle.  

Faraday studies me as I take a few sips and his scrutiny of me makes me feel a little self conscious.  That causes me to reflexively pull the FBI jacket a little tighter around my shoulders and attempt to cover my exposed thighs as well.  I know exactly what I would I would have been thinking about if our roles were reversed.  “Wow, look at those legs! She’s a total babe. I wonder what her boobs look like.”  Okay, maybe Faraday isn’t really thinking that, but he is still a guy, lucky bastard.

“So, any ideas on who tried to kill me at the VA Hospital?” I ask in an attempt to distract myself and Faraday.

Faraday glances to Brown. “Capture, not kill and no leads on the who, but we have a possible why.” Brown says with a frustrated sigh.

“Oh?” I ask.

From the same folder that Faraday had the DBO manual, Brown pulls out a piece of paper with a web page printed on it.  “We were able to question one of the surviving attackers, but it took finding this online auction listing to really give us the clues we needed.” Brown says as he slides the page to me.

It is print out of an auction for an ounce of “Genuine Dark Elf Blood” and at the time the page was printed, the current winning bid on the page was $50k.

“Seriously?!?” I ask, glancing down at the fine darker blue vein in my arm with wonder. I could retire on that kind of cash and it would only take me pulling out an ounce or two of my blood once a year.

I look back up at Brown. “Why is my blood so valuable?”

He looks a little embarrassed as he glances down at the DBO manual. “Well, when we spoke with some of our magic experts, they once again referred us to the game manual.  It seems that the history written in the DBO manual is surprisingly accurate.”

“Yes, Dr. Random surprised me with that news too, but?” I ask.

“Well, after the light races banded together and wiped out the Dark Elves during the 4th Age of Magic, it was discovered that Dark Elf blood and some of their organs were essential for a few powerful rituals. So, when you manifested and a sample of your blood made its way out of the hospital, some magic practitioners got a little excited.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

“No, it’s not and the FBI is working with the hospital to investigate the breach.” Brown says, looking a little upset about it.  

“What about the people at the VA hospital? Are Agents Rollins and Thompson dead?” I ask.

Faraday sighs. “Thompson is in critical condition...”

“Rollins?” I ask, softly.

Faraday shakes his head and closes his eyes for a second.

“I might be able to help Thompson.” I say, causing both of the men to sit up with attention.

“How?” Faraday asks.

“Well, if real life works like it does in the game, I think that I can transfer some of my health to another and heal them that way. I just need something to drain after that to recover my health.” I say as I recall how I could do some emergency healing in DBO.

“What would you need?” Faraday asks suspiciously as he leans forward.

I am pretty sure that he thinks that I need another person, but in game I could take health from any NPC, be that a critter, monster or undead.  “Well, I am not sure. A rabbit might work, but rabbits probably don’t have a lot of health to take.  Maybe a cow or two or three? I really don’t know...” I say, shrugging my shoulders apologetically.

Faraday sits back and appears to think it over as Brown looks at me with an expression that is hard for me to read.  “Hmmm, are you sure that you can’t change into your character’s Life Aspect mode?”

It helps that I expected this question. I shake my head slowly from side to side and frown. “Believe me, I have tried, but nothing works.  Do you think that I would look like this...” I gesture back to my blue body. “....if I didn’t have to?” I almost break down and cry. I feel the tears trying to burst out. I feel so trapped in this body and even more so now that I really am trapped.  I am trapped by my own cynical distrust of humanity.

Faraday moves over, takes the unoccupied aisle seat next to me and with a surprising display of concern, he looks me directly in the eyes. “Thank you for your offer, Valerie. I will give it some thought, make a few calls and see if we can arrange a test when we arrive in Los Angeles, okay?”

I nod my head once. “Okay...” I say, softly as I study his face for any hint of suspicion that he isn’t buying my Life Aspect story.  I find his gaze more intense than I, in my reduced stature, am able to comfortably maintain.  I use the need for a napkin to blot my eyes as an excuse to turn away from him.  If I was still a guy, I would have totally lost the staring contest. Except, I am not sure if it was a staring contest.

“Let me get something for you.” Faraday says as he moves to the front of the plane.  From a small closet, he extracts a small blue gym bag and carries it back to me. He sets it on the table in front of me and gestures for me to open it.  

Curious, I zip it open and find some clothes. I pull out a pair of dark blue sweats with a yellow FBI logo on the hooded top, a plain white bra and panty set, ankle socks, white sneakers and a blue FBI logo girl baby doll style t-shirt. I only know that it is called a baby doll style t-shirt due to the t-shirt that Kim bought me.  The one that said “Keep out of direct sunlight!” and thinking about that shirt makes me miss Kim.

I am a little impressed by the fact that all of the clothes appear to be in my size.  I also find a travel kit consisting of a small toothpaste tube, toothbrush, floss, pink deodorant, *sigh*, a brush, assortment of hair bands and last but not least, a small box of panty liners. That last girl bomb, I leave alone for now. The bra and panty set plus the floral scented girl deodorant is enough of a reminder, thank you very much.

“Can I go change?” I ask, eager to get out of my Mystique costume.  Maybe if I am out of it, people will stop calling me Mystique.

Faraday glances to Brown, who nods his approval. I am not sure who is in charge here, but I guess the FBI is more in charge and the clothes do have the FBI logo.  Maybe I need permission to wear them from an FBI agent.

I grab the bag and then, I look around for the bathroom. Faraday helpfully points to the rear of the plane.  “Thanks.” I say with a smile as I make my way to the lavatory.

I only make it two steps before I remember that the damn zipper on this costume is stuck.  Ashamed, I turn back to Faraday. “Umm, the zipper is stuck. Would you mind?” I ask as I turn my back to him and hang my head down with embarrassment. I am supposed to  be the one to help a woman out of her dress, not be the one being helped.

Faraday chuckles. “Sure.” He says as I feel his fingers gently work the zipper loose and halfway down my spine before stopping.  He uses one of his fingers on the inside of the zipper to keep the zipper from snagging on my skin and his light touch against my skin causes me to shiver once. He stops about halfway down my back and I am pretty sure that if he went any further, the bleeping costume would fall off on its own.  I use my free hand to hold the front of the costume securely to my chest as I make my way to the lavatory.  

The jet’s lavatory proves to be just as tiny as a commercial jet’s lavatory. There is no counter space, so I end up setting my bag down in the sink. Next, I close and lock the door and with that done, I feel private enough to remove my costume. There is one advantage to wearing a dress; it proves far easier to undress in the claustrophobically tiny lavatory.

Fresh panties feel both comforting and strange as I snug them against my smoother undercarriage. The strange part fades after a few seconds; leaving just the comfortable feeling in its wake. There is absolutely no way that I will ever admit that it is actually more comfortable not having to constantly adjust all my junk down there. Nope, no way, no how, because you know, I had a lot or so all the ladies told me.  

I kill myself.

The bra and adjustment of my new protuberances more than make up for the lack of junk comfort factor.  Breasts are such a pain to own, but at the same time, they are also kind of nice. I am undecided on them at the moment because I can’t stop from admiring myself in the mirror. That makes me realize that I am being a narcissist and that I am turning myself on as my nipples begin to harden and my insides start to feel pleasantly warm.  That causes me to yearn for Jen’s touch, and that thought, plus the realization that my fingers are gently rubbing against my pantie enclosed crotch snaps me back to reality.

Embarrassed, I quickly pull the sweatpants over my hips, apply some of the floral scented girl deodorant, and follow that with the baby doll thing, and finally, the socks and sneakers. I double check my hair and still feeling a little warm, I splash some cool water against my face. I am mostly satisfied with my appearance and the lack of visible nippage showing through my t-shirt and bra, but I decide to wear the sweatshirt too. Just in case I am showing and heck, I am a girl now. I might get cold or something. I finish by brushing my teeth and then, I pack my costume into the bag and exit the lavatory.

Well, that was my plan, but then I realize that I need to pee and there is a dude patiently waiting outside the lavatory.  “Umm, sorry. I gotta pee now too. Are you?” I ask, feeling super embarrassed for hogging the bathroom for so long.

He chuckles at me. “Oh, no. I’m fine.  Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” I say, smiling at him with appreciation.  

I silently curse the no aiming cowboy who last used the toilet in here. No one’s aim is that good.

Lift the f’ing seat you short dicked bastard!

Sorry about that, but wiping down the seat just to go pee is so frustrating.  With the wiping, plus the wiping with the extra washing of hands; I finally surrender the lavatory to the waiting dude.  “Sorry. I had to clean the seat. Someone thought they could aim.” I say with a grin as I hold the door open.  I feel much better now that I had the chance to vent.

The agent smiles at me and makes a point of lifting the seat before closing the door behind him.  That gesture plus the addition of wearing real clothes makes me feel far happier than I should, considering my current circumstances.  Regardless, I smile gratefully at Faraday as I rejoin him and Brown at our seats.  “So much better!  Thanks, but what do you want me to do with my costume?” I ask as I set the gym bag with my costume on the table.

Faraday glances over to Brown. “Do you need to bag the costume as evidence?” He asks.

Brown nods his head. “Yes sir. The judge will probably want to see it, along with the fake weapon during the trial.”  He looks over his shoulder at one of the other agents. “Roscoe, can you grab an evidence bag and add her costume to it, please?”

The agent quickly has my costume bagged, tagged and placed into a large black canvas bag that also has my fake weapon in it.  I almost regret giving up the costume now, but only almost, because it sure has caused me a ton of problems.

That thought causes me to lean back in my seat and wrap the jacket around me even tighter as I gaze listlessly out the cabin window.  It is only a little after 4pm, but now that I am back to being a nocturnal Dark Elf; it doesn’t take long before I feel my eyes fighting to stay open.

I look back to Faraday and Brown. “I am crashing here. Do you guys need anything?” I ask.

They both look at each other and shrug. “No, but we will need to go over a few things before we land. We still have another five or six hours. I will wake you when we are an hour out. Okay?” Faraday asks.

Before I can reply, I have to fight off a huge yawn, but it escapes just as I politely cover my mouth. “Sorry, yes, that is fine with me. I’m the prisoner here, not you.” I say with a tired smirk that earns me grin in reply from Faraday. With that, I give up fighting my need for sleep. I kick off my sneakers, tuck my feet into the seat and taking advantage of my reduced stature and flexibility, I quickly fall asleep curled up in the seat.

I wake on my own and find that someone wedged a pillow under my head. The cabin lights are off and the window shutters are closed where I am resting while Faraday and Brown are at the other well lit table poring over some documents.  Brown has a cell phone next to his ear and he appears to be listening to it. I hope that the FAA does not find out about that.

I decide to brave the lavatory again. Well, I don’t decide, my bladder does that for me.  I guess that I drank too much water and coffee. Wonder of all wonders, the seat isn’t splattered with pee this time. I still wipe it off though.  I doubt that I will ever get used to this sitting requirement.

As I exit the lavatory, Faraday motions me over to their table. “What’s up?” I ask.

“I am glad that you’re awake.” Faraday motions for me to join them at the table. “Special Agent-in-Charge Brown and I have been speaking with the Justice Department, the LA County DA plus our respective bosses and here is what you are facing when we land.  Are you ready?”

That doesn’t sound good. “Umm, sure?” I say hesitantly.

“We got the DA to drop the Grand Larceny, Making a Terroristic Threat and Resisting Arrest charges, but you are still facing two attempted murder charges and assault with a deadly weapon.”

“Oh...” I say as my stomach starts to feel queasy. On one hand, it sounds like they are dropping my involvement with the Riddler, but the two remaining charges don’t sound good.  Attempted murder is still some serious jail time and not minimum security either.

Faraday holds up his hand. “But, I also mentioned that you might be able to use your powers to heal the two wounded police officers and if that is true, then the DA would be willing to work out a deal.”

“Okay, I’m game, but will they let me?” I ask.

Faraday and Brown glance at each other like they have some secret that they are keeping from me. “We have been given authorization for you to try healing Agent Thompson and try your resurrection spell on Agent Rollins. The outcome of those tests will determine whether or not you will be giving a shot with the two officers that you wounded.”

“Sounds good to me. When can we start?” I ask, eager to get this over with.

“As soon as we land, we will head over to the hospital that is treating Agent Thompson. Additionally, I have made arrangements with a local slaughter yard for five cows to be available to us.”  Faraday says.

“And Agent Rollins?” I ask.

“He is in the morgue of the same hospital.” Faraday says.

“Great...anything else?” I ask.

“Jennifer Ittner?” Faraday asks.

I manage to not freak out by his question. “Yes? What about her?”  

Faraday studies me with a stern expression. “Your ex-girlfriend is publishing an ‘exclusive’ story about you in tomorrow’s paper.  What is going to be in that story?”

How did he find out about something like that and how did Jen get something together so quickly?  “Umm, I’m not sure, exactly.  I told her everything that happened and she said that maybe a good story about me would help with my public image.”

“Okay, then how about if you tell us what happened from the start of the abduction attempt until you turned yourself in?” Faraday asks as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

He is not happy with me.  I repeat my story to them, almost verbatim and with minimal interruptions. They both ask me a few extra questions regarding the attackers, but aside from that, my story is true until we get to the part where I found out that I could shift to Life Aspect mode.  From there, I explain how Jen snuck me out of my apartment and how we hung out in the nearby state park until she talked me into turning myself in.  I also express my displeasure with the cops at the local station.

“That is a very convincing story and it matches Miss Ittner’s version of the events. However; there are some holes in it...” Faraday says as he stares at me intently.

“Oh?” I ask as fear begins to set in. What if he finds out about my Life Aspect?

“Yes, we checked with the forest rangers and neither of you or Miss Ittner’s vehicle were spotted at the park today.”

“Oh, well, that was our goal. We didn’t see any rangers either.” I say smiling with satisfaction. I didn’t even have to lie with that statement.

Faraday leans back in his chair. “Something in your story isn’t adding up.  I find it hard to believe that you could have gone without being spotted for as long as you and Miss Ittner claim. Are you sure that you can’t change?”

He is pretty smart and it makes me wonder if he will dig deeper and discover the truth. If he has already checked our alibi with the park rangers, it wouldn’t be that hard for him to find Jen’s credit card receipts for the day.  “Tell me Mr. Faraday, you have researched DBO. You seem to have an idea what a Death Aspect and a Life Aspect cleric can do. Hypothetically speaking, let’s say that I figure out a way to change into my character’s Life Aspect mode.” I stop and look at him.

“Okaaay, hypothetically speaking...” Faraday says dubiously.

“What would happen to me if I could heal any injury or cure any disease?  Maybe even resurrect the dead, walk on water and create food and water from thin air?” I ask, looking at him with a challenging glare.

He appears to ponder my question for a few seconds. “Well, you would be in pretty high demand. There are a lot of sick people in the world.”

I nod my head with agreement. “Yes, go on...” I say.

“Hmmm, you would probably need to be placed into protective custody...”  He stops and I can see him working out the probable chain of events from there.

I lean forward and smile at him. “Yes, that would be the right thing to do. After all, people who are dying can be rather desperate, right?  It would be in our government’s best interest and in our citizen’s best interest to keep me safe.  Who would the government allow me to heal?”

“Why, the people with the greatest need, the sickest of the sick, of course.”

I smile with satisfaction at the direction this hypothetical exercise is going. “Excellent! That would be very helpful and I am sure that I would find that very rewarding, but what if the President or whatever of China or some other country that the U.S. is not happy with wants to be cured of some deadly disease?” I ask.

Both Faraday and Brown sit back with a concerned expression. “Yes, that or a similar issue could create some problems.” Faraday says after a moment of thought.

I choose to stay on the attack. “So, are either of you Christian, believe in Jesus?”  I ask and they both nod their head. “How do you think the religious right and left and middle would feel about some miracle worker?  What would they consider me?  An angel, a demon or maybe even, the anti-Christ sent to earth to tempt the unfaithful?  What about the other faiths of the world? How did those Crusades work out back in medieval times? How about the Salem witch trials or wait, even better, the Spanish Inquisition because nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, right?”  

I lean back in my chair as if to rest my case.  “So, no, I cannot change and even if I could, I wouldn’t change.” I gesture down to my dark elf body before looking back to the two of them. “I will probably live for a very long time and I would rather rot in a jail for 20 or even 100 years as a convicted criminal instead of become a slave and a political tool to be used by corrupt officials because even a convicted criminal has a chance of parole, someday.”

Faraday does not say a word as he opens my file and begins to write. “Despite repeated attempts and expert magical investigation by Dr. Random, subject is unable to change into Life Aspect mode.  It is this investigator's opinion that the subject’s manifested form is her only form.  Signed...DHS Special Agent King Faraday.”

He hands the file over to Brown who also adds his signature to the statement.  When he finishes he hands the document back to Faraday.  Brown then looks back to me. “While I would like to think that our government would be able to arrive at a peaceful solution, I have spent a large part of the last few years investigating and preventing crimes in the post 9/11 world.  I don’t even want to consider the public’s reaction if this possible power of yours proved to be true.”

The rest of the flight proves to be a somewhat somber affair. After that discussion, I do not feel the slightest urge to speak to anyone and both Faraday and Brown appear more than happy to bury themselves with paperwork. If nothing else, my existence and accidental crime spree has certainly seem to have generated a large amount of paper.  Poor trees.

When we land, our plane is directed to pull into another empty hanger.  They skip the cuffs for me this time and herd me into another black SUV.  Did the government get a good deal on black SUV’s?  I guess that ever since the OJ chase, white is out of favor with the government and black does look more impressive, or ominous. Take your pick.

Two additional black SUVs join us as I am driven directly to a hospital. I pull my sweatshirt hood over my head and try to keep a low profile. Faraday and Brown flank me and with a flash of badges, I am led past security and directly to the elevators.  We are met on the fifth floor by a grim faced nurse who, without a word, leads us to a room.

Inside the large private room is an unhappy looking Special Agent Helligan, a somber Agent Fergusson, a hard to read Dr. Random and another man that looks like he could be a doctor.  He is dressed like one and he also does not appear to be happy as he stands protectively next to the bed. “As this man’s physician, I must protest this, this thing...” He says, gesturing toward me with distaste. “Medical experiments with this man’s life have no place in this hospital!”

I ignore him and glance over to the person in the bed. Agent Thompson is the occupant and he does not look healthy.  My DBO game senses kick in and I can feel exactly how weak he is. In game terms, he is down to 10% health and slowly fading.  I am not sure how I know that he is fading, but I just do.  Maybe that knowledge is just a part of my powers.  Like how I could tell that the religious nut job was healthy, but had fewer health points than me.

They have two IV bags feeding stuff into his body and one of those bags appears to be blood.  He must have some internal bleeding going on and the other bag is probably full of painkillers.  Beats me though, I am not a doctor.

I look back to the doctor. “You have tried everything, yet he is still going to die. Internal bleeding, right?” I ask, softly as I pull off my sweatshirt and fully expose my face to him.

He glares at me with a mixture of frustration and pride before glancing over at the grim faced Faraday as if to ask him why he would have to answer to me. Faraday merely stares at him without emotion until the doctor loses the staring contest.  Faraday is really good at those things.

“Yes...” He reluctantly acknowledges my question.

“When do you expect him to die?  Less than 12 hours from now, right?” I ask, taking a slight guess based on what I can sense.

“Maybe...” The doctor whispers while shaking his head back and forth with denial.

“I owe Agent Thompson here my life. If there is something that I can do that might help him, I would like to try.” I say with tears threatening to spill from my eyes.  Damn female hormones making me all mushy.

Almost imperceptibly, the doctor’s head nods his acceptance and takes a step away from his patient.  I glance over at Dr. Random and he also nods his acceptance for what I am about to attempt.  I detect a slight gleam in his eye. If I didn’t know better, I would say that he actually looks a little excited. Well, maybe he is, but he is the only one. Everyone else just looks grim. Agent Fergusson sneaks a wink of encouragement for me and that helps bolster my determination.  His boss might hate me, but at least he is still friendly.  

“Please Lord, let this work...” I mutter as I target Agent Thompson and cast my Vampiric Heal spell.  A beam of pulsing green energy wrapped with inky black tendrils shoots out from my hand and latches onto Agent Thompson’s chest.  I feel a tearing sensation and every cell of my body feels like it is being held over a low fire.  It is painful for me, but not unbearably painful.

[20%]

I grimace with mild discomfort as Thompson’s health jumps up by 10% as my health drops by 2%.  Well, that is somewhat reassuring because if it continues at that rate, I might be able to heal him 100% and only lose 18% of my health in the process. In the game, my Vampiric Heal is more of a Hail Mary, last ditch thing.  It is designed to not be efficient on purpose; else there would be little reason to bring a real healer into a group.  If I was using this against an equal level player, I might drain half of my health and only heal 20% of theirs. So, it is nice that Thompson is much lower level than I am.  That fact makes my inefficient heal a bit more useful.

That thought makes me smile in spite of the discomfort as another second passes and his health goes up by another 10%.  My discomfort seems to increase too, but I ignore it and force myself to continue with the spell. In the game it will last for 10 seconds or until I cancel it and I aim to heal Thompson until he is either 100% or I pass out from the pain.

Five seconds later, he is at 70% while I am down to 88% and the pain is definitely becoming harder for me to ignore.  Now, it feels like that low fire has been given a few extra logs and it is really starting to burn bright.  I feel warm tears start to stream down my face.

“Valerie?” I hear Agent Helligan say with concern. That surprises me, but I refuse to stop and give up now.  Thompson’s health hits 90% and I feel my knees beginning to tremble. I accidently bite my own lip as I force myself to keep going.

[100%]

I cancel the spell and my knees give out, but someone, Faraday, grabs my arm and keeps me from falling.  I pant as the pain begins to quickly recede. ln less than a second, the pain is merely a memory, but I still feel a little weak.  My health is sitting at 82%, which shouldn’t be a problem.  Hell, in a fight, if I have over 50% health, I consider myself in very good shape.

I look over at Agent Thompson and the doctor is scrambling to keep him from trying to sit up.  He is awake and except for the bandages covering his chest, he looks perfectly healthy.  Despite how I physically feel right now, I feel pretty damn happy with the outcome.  It takes me a few more seconds before I feel strong enough to wave off Faraday’s assistance.  As I glance around the room, I can’t help noticing how much more relaxed everyone is looking. I also can’t help noticing how healthy they all look to me.  Healthy, like a nice and healthy juicy steak that makes your mouth water with anticipation because my mouth does start to water with anticipation.

“How are you feeling?” Faraday asks, sounding concerned about me.

“Umm, a little, umm, drained and hungry, but not hungry for food.  Everyone here looks very healthy to me right now.” I say as a nervous giggle escapes from me. I close my eyes in an attempt to banish my vision.

“Are you going to be okay?” Faraday asks.

I open my eyes and look at his concerned face. “Umm, I think so. I just feel a little, jittery or something right now.” I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and I start to feel a little more relaxed.  

“That was most impressive, Miss Wilson.” Dr. Random says with an appreciative smile.

“Oh, I guess so. That hurt a bit though. I’m not sure if that is the best way to go about helping someone.” I say.

“Impossible!” I hear the doctor say. I turn to look and he is inspecting Thompson’s bandages with stunned disbelief.  There is blood on the bandages, but underneath, the skin is perfectly smooth and with only the faint trace of a long healed scar.

Thompson looks just as surprised as the doctor is.  He is looks down at his chest and takes some deep breaths as if to confirm that he really can breathe.  He smiles with satisfaction as he turns to look at me.  “Valerie?”

I grin and wave at him.  “Hey there. I came to return your magazine, but I left it in my room. Sorry.” I say.

“You did this?” He asks gesturing to his chest as he continues to try and sit up.

“Yeah and it hurt like a son of a bitch too. So, next time try remembering that incoming rounds have the right of way and, umm, duck or something.” I say with a smile.

He laughs.  “Yeah, I’ll try to remember that. Thanks.”  Thompson looks over at the doctor that is still trying to find something, anything wrong with his patient.  “When can I get out of here?” He asks.

With that, I am ushered out of the room with Agent Ferguson lending me his arm so that I can walk without falling down. I feel more than strong enough to walk on my own, but I decide that I should act like it took a little more out of me than it really did.  Yes, it sucked and I did feel pretty bad immediately after, but now all I feel is a little worn down and hungry.  Hungry both for a nice rare steak and for the health since I cannot help but notice the healthy glow of everyone in my little entourage as well as the nurses and doctors that we pass in the hallway.

“How are ya feeling Val?” Agent Ferguson asks once the elevator doors close and we start to descend to the basement level.

“Umm, a little better now. Thanks for the assist. My legs still feel a little wobbly.” I say as I gratefully look up at him.  It is so weird being so short and feeling so tiny now.  Ferguson isn’t a mountain of a man, but he is still pretty big and he makes me feel just a little bit safer with him holding on to me.  I almost let go of him with that realization, but that urge passes and is forgotten when the doors open to reveal the basement hallway that leads to the morgue.  

I actually find myself clutching onto him a little bit tighter as I am lead to the room that contains Agent Rollin’s body.  The doctor in charge of the morgue meets us at the doorway and wisely declines to protest my presence.  I guess that he figures that I can’t do any harm to any of his patients since they are all already dead.

He simply walks over to a numbered stainless steel fridge door, opens it and slides the bullet riddled corpse of Agent Rollins out for everyone to see.  I almost puke at the sight of his body. It does not look at all like the bodies you see on TV shows and I am not alone in my reaction. Agent Helligan proves that she is human by turning away, but Faraday shows absolutely zero reactions to Agent Rollins’ mangled body.

I decide that I just want to get this over with as soon as possible. Without waiting for anyone’s approval, I target his body and start casting my rezz spell.  The spell demands a large portion of my essence to fuel it. As it draws on that portion, I feel the energy build and swirl around me with visible traces of white sparkles and rapid flickers of lightning. I also sense a second source of magical energy spring into existence from Dr. Random. Whatever he is doing or did, it does not interfere with my spell and I ignore it. Just like in the game, my spell takes 15 seconds to build up and less than a fraction of a second for it to blast into Rollin’s body.  

A brilliant white glow surrounds his body and lifts it partially off the gurney as if there is an invisible rope tied around his waist.  His feet and head remain touching the gurney as his body forms a bow.  Dark ghostly shadows swirl around the body until an inky black malignant looking shadow forms and with a wail merges with Agent Rollins’ body.  The shadow’s wail sets my teeth on edge and sends shivers down my body.  

Something is not right!  

I quickly cast my Unholy Armor buff and my Death Ward buff to help protect me from death magic.  I am not sure if I need the Death Ward, but when I played; I always cast the two protection spells together.  The wailing stops just as my two buffs take hold and I watch as Rollins’ body springs from the gurney with a blood curdling scream.  

Whatever it is, it is not a happy to be a live Agent Rollins!  It has Agent Rollins’ face, but its eyes are glowing red, its mouth is distended well past what a human’s mouth is physically capable of and its mouth is filled with with nasty looking blackened fangs. If that was not bad enough, its fingers look like jagged blackened talons and it is about to test those talons out on the nearest FBI agent.

I react by slapping my Shield of Absorption spell on the creature’s target and not a moment too soon either because just before the creature is able to take a swipe at the FBI agent, my magical, translucent bubble springs into existence around him; protecting him from the creature’s attack.

Sparks fly and magical energy flares as the creature’s talons are stopped by the shield with an audible thud. The force of the impact causes the very surprised FBI Agent back a step.  The creature screams with frustration, but attempts to hit the shielded FBI agent again. Once again, the shield blocks its attack and that second attack frees the remaining FBI agents from their shocked paralysis.

They open fire with their weapons and for the most part, their aim is good, but also ineffective.  Their bullets hit the creature and even appear to damage it, but it is able to ignore the damage.  How do you kill something that is already dead?

With other people irritating it, the creature gives up trying to hurt the shielded agent. It turns to face its attackers, but as its gaze passes over me, its eyes appear to widen with recognition and hatred. Before it can do more, I cast my Hold Undead spell on it and breathe a sigh of relief when thick ghostly chains spring from the ground and wrap themselves tightly around the creature, holding it in place.

It screams in anger and frustration as it struggles to free itself from the ghostly chains, but they hold.  Thank god!

“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Faraday says and amazingly, everyone follows his orders, but absolutely no one puts their weapons down.  They all remain aimed directly at the struggling creature. I count myself lucky that they are not aiming them at me too.

“Mystique! What in the fuck happened and what is that thing!?!” Brown asks from behind me.  

He sounds pissed, but I refuse to turn away from the creature to verify that. “Umm, fuck if I know, but I can tell you that the thing is undead since my Hold Undead spell worked. I can also tell you that my Hold won’t last forever. Maybe two or three minutes, tops.”

“Okay...” Faraday says, taking over and providing a calming influence on everyone else. “So, how do we kill it then?”

“I believe that creature is a ghoul and under normal situations, you would need magical or holy weapons to kill it.” Dr. Random helpfully answers.

“Normal situations?!?  Someone would consider this as fucking normal?” Agent Helligan asks, clearly not happy.

I am definitely going to be spending a long time in a jail cell now. “Umm, guys?  The clock is ticking...any suggestions Dr. Random?” I ask, sneaking a quick glance back to him.

“I believe that your magic is more than capable of permanently dispatching this creature. What would you have done in the game against such a creature?” Dr. Random asks.

I nervously laugh at his statement. “Umm, this is real. You do know that, right?” I ask as the creature continues to strain against its chains. I notice the chains starting to weaken and stretch.

“Crap!” I say, and then I pretend that I am playing the game.  Before it can break free, I hit it with my Vampiric Curse spell.  That spell does not actually do any damage to the creature, but if it works like it does in the game; it should cause a portion of the damage that I do to it, to heal me.

I manage to get that on it just in time, because with a mighty scream; it breaks the chains holding it down.  I do not bother attempting to hold it again. I need to hit it with my most powerful nuke and I need to hit it now.  The phrase, “I cast magic missile, into the darkness...” floats past my subconscious making me grin a bit.  Yes, I am a geek and I laugh in the face of death.

Normally, my biggest nuke would take two and a half seconds to cast, but I don’t have two plus seconds to wait for it to build up.  Fortunately for me, in game, there is an instant cast power that I can use once every five minutes to get around that little limitation.  I tap that instant cast power and just like in the game, a magical glow flares across my skin.

Following that, I immediately start to cast my Blast of Darkness spell and as I do, time seems to slow down for me. To me, it still takes the full 2.5 seconds to cast the spell, but everyone and everything else in the room looks like they are trapped in amber while I am casting the spell.  That is not what happens in the game. The spell just instant casts, but I guess that behind the scenes, it is really doing this little time stop thing.

Too cool!

“Boo ya!” I scream as normal time resumes and a black lightning bolt shoots from my hand, slamming into the creature’s chest. The bolt does not do exactly like I expected it to. It does not knock the creature back and blast it to pieces. No, at first, the creature appears to absorb the bolt, but then, a fraction of a second later the creature lets out a deafening scream as it implodes upon itself. A green bolt of energy escapes from its body and slams into me just before the creature disappears; leaving nothing behind as evidence to indicate that it was ever really here.

While I am now down to only 45% essence, I am at full of health now. I guess that my Vampiric Curse worked a little better than I expected it to work. I feel pretty damn good, but I am still under the effects of adrenalin and I know that I am going to be yelled at now.

“Ahh, I was a little afraid that that might happen.” Dr. Random says with a note of self-gratification.

Well, maybe I won’t be the one getting yelled at now. I am not the only person who turns to look at him with surprise and a little anger. “What do you mean?” I ask as calmly as I can manage as I struggle to control both my post action shaking and anger at him for not expressing his concerns earlier.

Dr. Random irritates me even more when he patiently smiles at me as if nothing is wrong. “Resurrection, as it is performed in your game works because A) It is just a game and B) because in the game, the spell can always count on the rightful owner of the body being on hand to claim their body.”

“Say what?” I ask, thoroughly confused because I don’t see how A and B can apply to this disaster.  I am not alone.  Everyone in the room looks both extremely shaken and confused by Dr. Random’s explanation. Well, everyone except for Faraday.

“It is actually quite simple really.  The body needs its soul in order to be properly re-animated. The spell needs that spark to re-create the bond between the body and soul as it repairs the body’s damage; providing a welcome home for the body’s soul when it is done.” Dr. Random says, ignoring all the glares of annoyance directed at him. He actually looks excited by what just happened.

“Umm, okay...so, does that mean that my Resurrection spell will always create a monster like that?” I say, gesturing back to where the creature last stood.

“It shouldn’t, ‘if’ the body’s soul is available.” Dr. Random says, stressing the word ‘if’ with extra emphasis.

“Well, that doesn’t help much. How do I know ‘if’ the soul is available so ‘that’ doesn’t happen?” I say, gesturing back to the empty gurney.

Dr. Random stops to think about it for a second. “Well, it varies with the situation of the person’s death, but generally, it takes between six and ten minutes before the soul loses its connection to the flesh and moves on. Less, if the death was particularly violent and destructive of the body.”

“Okay then, so, if it takes the body’s soul to work, how did that monster get created?” I ask.

“As your spell attempted to connect with the late Agent Rollins’ soul, it created a brief gateway from the spirit world to the body. Without the body’s soul to connect to, a malignant spirit was able to latch onto and replace the body’s rightful owner, warping your restorative magic to rebuild its corporeal body into its own twisted image.”

I want to yell at him because that kind of information would have REALLY been good to know before I cast that spell. “Ya know, I think that I will just stick that spell in the very back of my non-existent spell book and forget about it.” I say as I pantomime crossing that spell of my list, and then, I turn to Faraday. “What now, fearless leader?”

Faraday looks like he wants to smile. Well, I try to imagine him wanting to smile, but he doesn’t.  He calmly looks around the room as if nothing potentially lethal just happened. “I think we are done here, Miss Wilson.”

Hey, at least he didn’t call my yell at me and call me Mystique like FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Brown did.

“Let’s get you to the cows so you can heal yourself up.” Faraday says, glancing back, over his shoulder at me as we make our way toward the elevators.

“Oh, I’m good to go now.  Killing the ghoul healed me.” I say.

He betrays his surprise by missing a step. “Okay then. Let’s get you out of here. I need to make a few more calls now.” He says.

Once we reach the lobby, Special Agent Helligan, Dr. Random and Agent Ferguson split off, but not before Helligan and Dr. Random shake hands with Faraday and Brown. Agent Ferguson sneaks in a friendly smile to me before I am whisked back through the doors and into the waiting SUV.

The other two nondescript, yet obvious, escort vehicles peel away from us when our SUV pulls into an average looking suburban neighborhood full of average sized houses. It is just after 8pm and full dark outside when we pull directly into the garage of just one more average looking house.  Parked in the driveway is the stereotypical family minivan complete with the stick figure stickers of the perfect American family unit. One boy, one girl, a cat and a dog all holding hands with their Mom and Dad.  The only thing that is missing is the “My kid is in the Honor Roll” sticker.

As the garage door closes, I glance over to Faraday. “There really isn’t a family of four at this house, I hope?”

Brown chuckles. “No, but the FBI got a good deal on the house due to the housing bubble.  Excellent observation there with the minivan, Mystique. You have good instincts.”

“I am not Mystique...” I say, muttering with frustration. “Isn’t it kind of obvious to the neighbors?”

“Did you know any of your neighbors back at your apartment?” Brown asks with a smirk.

Point taken. I shake my head no and they lead me into the house.  A male and a female agent meet us in the kitchen. Well, I assume that they are agents because they are both armed and have that look about them.  The kind of no-nonsense law officer look that says that they are just waiting for you to mess up so that they can arrest you. They are also wearing matching wedding bands, but the rings cannot overcome their natural FBI aura.  There is no way that anyone would ever think that the two of them are married to each other.

Faraday hangs back as Brown introduces me. “Agent Griebler, Agent Burns, this is Valerie Wilson, better known as Mystique.”

Grrr, again with the Mystique thing. I am not in the Mystique costume. Why does he have to keep bringing it up?

Burns is the female agent. She nods her head with acknowledgment, but she does not look happy to see me. The other dude, her fake husband, studies me for a second before looking back to Brown. “Sir, are you sure that this is the best place for her? This house isn’t the most secure.”

Even I know what he is really trying to say. “Hey, boss!  How do you expect just the two of us to put down this bitch if she tries to run or attack us?”

Faraday chooses that moment to step forward. “Agent Griebler, I am sure that you have heard what is on the news about Miss Wilson here and I can assure that what has been reported thus far by the media has very little of the necessary background facts.”

Ha! I knew that I liked Faraday, but the ‘Miss’ bit is still a little jarring.

“Fact one is that a force of hostile agents assaulted a government facility, killing one DMA agent and critically injuring a second DMA agent the process.” Faraday points to me. “Her guards.  Those same hostile agents also killed one security guard and injured two additional hospital staff in an attempt to capture or kill Miss Wilson.  It was simply exceptional bad luck on her part to be caught up with the Riddler when she was simply attempting to hide out from her previous attackers. Your job isn’t to be her warden. Your job is to protect her and not get in her way if it comes time for her to protect you.”

Wait, what?  

I glance back over to Faraday with surprise evident in my expression. Even Brown looks a little surprised by that last statement.  “Brown?” Faraday asks with a serious expression.

“Yes sir?” Brown asks, looking a little confused.

“When that thing attacked Agent Fournier. What happened?” Faraday asks.

Brown’s eyes light up as he makes the connection. He gestures back to me with what, to me, looks suspiciously like respect.  “Miss Wilson’s first act was to protect Agent Fournier from harm and then, she terminated the creature after we discovered that our weapons were ineffective.”

The subliminal hostility and resentment from the two FBI agents goes down by a few notches as the two FBI agents relax their posture. Agent Burns even glances at me with a more measuring look. Like she is re-evaluating her initial appraisal of me.

“Tomorrow is going to be a rather busy day for us all.  Miss Wilson here is probably going to be allowed to attempt healing the two police officers that she accidently injured.” Faraday studies me with a thoughtful expression that makes me worried.

“What?” I ask.

“Hmm, we have a court date set for this Friday...” Faraday says without really explaining anything.  He spins on his heel, pulls out his cell phone and leaves the room.

I am not alone with my confusion. Even Brown is confused by Faraday’s behavior, but my stomach decides that the uncomfortable silence is the perfect time to make its hunger known.  Agent Burns and Agent Griebler glance over at me with a smirk that makes me glad that my blue skin does not show my embarrassment by blushing.  If it did, I am sure that my face would be purple right now.  “Ummm, sorry, but do you all have anything to eat here?” I ask.

“We have some frozen pizzas and some fresh steaks arrived this afternoon, but the grill is out of propane.” Agent Burns says as my eyes light up from the fresh steaks.

“Oh, can I have a steak? I just need a pan to heat it up a little on each side.” I say.

“No cookware here...” Agent Burns says with a pointed glance at her partner.

“Hey, not my fault. We just got here this morning.” Agent Griebler says defensively.

I have never ate a raw steak and never would have dreamed doing so in the past, but the steaks back at my apartment looked pretty good to me before I cooked them.  “Hmm, I think that I will be okay. Raw is good.” I say as I make my way to the fridge, ignoring their surprised expressions.  

Opening the door, I find four steaks, a case of beer and a case of diet soda.  I glance over my shoulder at the two agents. It probably isn’t a big mystery on who drinks what here.  I snag a steak and a beer. Hey, it is good beer, plus I need the vitamins, honest.

“Hey...” Agent Griebler says gesturing toward my beer.

“I’m sorry, are they yours? Mind if I have one? I can pay ya back.” I say. Unless it was the last beer, my friends and I were usually pretty free with our beer, but maybe he paid for them with his last bit of cash or something.  

“You can’t drink that, you’re underage!” Agent Griebler says.

“Oh, yeah...about that. See, I’m really 27. I just look like I’m 16.” I say as I twist off the top with a satisfying pop from the released pressure. I manage to get a good solid mouthful of the heavenly liquid of the gods before the bottle is taken out of my hand.

I quickly swallow what little beer I managed to liberate. “Hey! What’s the big deal? I told ya that I would pay you back. Hell, I’ll buy you a case of Guinness if you want!” I say, feeling a little ticked off.  I know that I look young, but I told him how old I really am.

Agent Griebler drops the bottle on the floor as he takes a step back while reaching for his weapon. Now, I am really pissed. That was a perfectly good bottle of beer he just wasted. “What the hell!?” I demand as he finishes drawing his weapon on me.