by G.M. Shephard

The Crew of the Deliverance is reunited in Soviet Russia. To keep a close eye on Megan, and get close to his friend Mitri, Michael assumes the identity of a Russian woman with a similar look to Kaaren, but with a shady past. As Anzehla, she unknowingly in caught in the middle of a plot to to topple the Soviet Government.

Angel S:1 E:11 “Motherland”
By G.M. Shephard
Copyright 2012
Edited by: jeffusually
kittylover

Episode 11 “Motherland”

---Kolyma Gulag Hard Labor Camp, Siberia---

The prisoners were led by chains out into the still harsh wintery landscape of Siberia. All were rather dangerous looking men, imprisoned for murder, kidnapping, theft, insubordination within the military. Most had been in the camps for years and were serving sentences ranging from a couple of years to life. It was still early morning, and the rest of the prisoners were still sleeping. The men assembled near the front gate next to a couple of trucks. Colonel Tolkachev stood before them examining his selection. Each had been chosen a couple of months ago. Chosen for their ruthlessness, their ability to survive, but mostly, because he knew they would die before coming back here. Since the time they were picked for his operation, he had them sequestered from the rest of the prisoners. Their hot food rations were increased to start reversing the withering effects the harsh conditions of the camp had on its occupants. The modern Gulag, while harsh and cruel, was still far more humane that it was during Stalin’s reign. Then, prisoners were starved and worked to the point of exhaustion. If the hard labor or lack of food didn’t get you, work related accidents, -40 degree weather, inmates, guards or illness‘ would take your life before three months were up. All said and done, between 1930 and 1950, over 50 million people perished in the camps.

“You have all be selected for an early release from prison. There is a mission that you will complete, one of great importance to the security and well being of Soviet Union. Upon the successful completion of this mission, you will be granted full pardons and allowed to rejoin society. Each of you will be taken by truck to a train. There you will be told what is expected of you and given everything you will need. If you fail, or if you run, you and your families will be imprisoned and you will never see the light of day again. Now get on the trucks, there is warm clothing and hot food waiting for you.” Those magic words “warmth” were enough to convince them to take the risk and accept the opportunity to serve their country.

---Houston Police Department, Westside---

“How long has it been since the accident?” Reid asked as he brought himself up to date on the Millbourne file.

“Coming up on three months already,” Victoria replied trying to think back to the exact date. Reid browsed through the file.

“Yes, it was December 30th around 11:00pm. How is Mr. Millbourne doing?”

“He is recovering well, but he has a long way to go. His right hand had to be reconstructed, it will never be the same again. The left is healing well and will likely be just like new in a couple more months.”

“I am glad to hear that he is doing better. Still a mystery how he shattered his hands when he hit that wall, but he is mighty lucky. How are you doing?”

“You know, for the first time in a long time, I can honestly say, I am a happy woman. Life is much better. That night was a game changer. I had had enough of his shit, and was ready to live on the streets, rather than endure another day with that creep. I don’t know why he left me alone and drove off that night, but I wished him dead. An hour and a half later, there is an officer at my door telling me he had been in an accident.” She started tearing up and Reid handed her a box of tissues from his lower drawer, “Thank you,” she said as she took the box from his hand.” I know it sounds awful, but when she was standing there at my door, I was secretly happy, hoping I was finally free of him. Instead the bastard was ok, just really banged up.”

“Mrs. Millbourne, I know your situation and it’s not easy to live in an abusive relationship and having to live every day in constant fear. I won’t pretend you didn’t mean what you said. So how is your relationship now?”

“He is different. He won’t talk about what happened that night, but whatever it was that intervened in his life, it worked; he is a different man. He has raised his voice at me a few times, but quickly backs down and apologizes to me. He is very respectful to me and my son since the accident, and while far from loving, I suspect he is finally on the right path,” Reid knew the routine well enough with these kinds of men. Hell he worked with enough of them in his department. Cops and their stress made for a bad combination if they had an aggressive nature. Several had their own wives that seemed to keep falling down the stairs. They were all the same though, something would get them to stop for a while, but sure enough; give it some time; they would be back and vicious as ever.

“Mrs. Millbourne, I am sincerely happy to know your life is improving and your husband is a changed man. I really want to believe that, but I am going to be frank with you. People like your husband have these abusive tendencies that stem from something in their own past. Behaviors such as these, while at time do suddenly change, are often short lived changes,” he said as he continued to read through her file taking into account every time she tried filing charges against him. He was a very dangerous man, and Reid knew his type well. One of two situations always panned out, either his type would kill the wife in some rage, or she would eventually fight back, shooting and killing him. It was tragedy either case. Either the woman, who never got the help she deserved, ends up dying, or a misguided jury convicts her for killing the bastard that deserved the bullet. The Millbournes were rapidly approaching that point, and had he not wrecked his car, one of the two would have wound up dead.

“So you believe me?” She asked.

“I do,” Reid told her.

“Than why the hell couldn’t I have had you working my case all these years. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to go through all this bullshit and my own collection of broken bones.”

“I’m very sorry it worked out that way. Turns out the detective working your case suddenly took an early retirement and yours truly here, was given several of his cases. I promise you, I am not like him, and take these types of cases seriously. Now I want you to reconsider dropping the charges you have pending against him. The DA doesn’t really want to touch it considering his position, but I recommend keeping them filed should he revert to his old self.”

“I understand, and normally I would agree with you, but this time there really is something different about him. He is trying. He has never actively worked to correct himself and has gone so far to have enrolled in some kind of class to fix his aggression.”

“Anger Management classes. That’s great, definite steps in the right direction, but again, a lot of the time, it’s all to get you to let down your guard.”

“My guard, I have no guard and he knows that. He had full access to do whatever. He wasn’t even afraid of you guys. I had nothing against him, nothing he needed to feign improvement in in order for me to back down. It’s,” she paused thinking about it more, “It’s almost as if he is afraid of something else. Sometimes it’s as if the devil himself visited him that night. I can’t explain it, but every time he has tried to unleash his anger, he quickly reacts almost as if he is terrified about something.”

“I sure wish there were something that could terrify some of these creeps into being civilized. I tell ya, it would sure make my job pretty easy,” he closed the file thinking about what he just said. Unknown to her, it seemed right around the time of Clint Millbourne’s unfortunate accident, the crime rate in the area had been decreasing a small percentage. Some of it was through good police work that led to some no good sons of bitches being taken off the street. Some of those cases he solved himself thanks to his secret weapon. Since Karen had agreed to help him out, he had been secretly feeding her case files. Many times her fresh set of eyes, picked up on areas that had been previously overlooked. She was good with math and could run sequences of numbers through her head faster than some of these newer computers. He disliked the fact he took all the credit for her work, but she repeatedly expressed her disinterest in any recognition. Still he wanted to do something for her to make up for all she had done to further his career. Fewer shit cases like the one in front of him were getting thrown his way in place of higher profile cases. He had a passion for real police work and although the Millbourne domestic abuse file was shit, he considered it equal in terms of importance.

“Let’s approach this case this way Mrs. Millbourne. I believe you, and I believe in you. You may not think I ever come across bad people who suddenly change their lives one day and become someone completely different, but occasionally it does happen. Of those few cases, even fewer are lifelong changes for the good. Now I am not saying your husband isn’t in that minuscule category, I just want to error on the side of caution. If we drop these charges, they go away and you can’t use them later on. You will start from scratch and we won’t be able to step in.”

“I understand the risk, but I tell you he is a different person, one who finally respects me. All of us need a fresh start, and I don’t want to hold something over him the way he used to do to me.”

“I get that. Look, I can’t speak for all the others who handled your case, and I won’t apologize on their behalf for not believing your story. Any one of them would be very quick to light this file on fire and get you the hell out of their lives, but I want you to know, I am not like that. I take each of my cases seriously and to prove that, I don’t want you out of my life. Let me be proactive and check in on you every once and a while. I will keep this file set aside, and after a few months, we can revisit your request,” she thought long and hard.

“Thank you detective, I really wish you would have been in my life sooner, but my decision stands. I will take the risk. Our marriage isn’t great, far from it, but it is very different from what it used to be. I appreciate your time,” she stood up and gathered her things. He was about to protest when the phone rang.

“Reid.”

“Reid, I have an Agent Maxwell with the FBI here to see you.” said the voice on the other end.

“Yes, I am expecting him, keep him waiting for about ten minutes while I finish up here.” Reid hung up without getting an acknowledgment.

“Perfect timing, thank you again for all your work.”

“Ok, Mrs. Millbourne, good luck, I wish you well.”

“I appreciate it, I will be fine,” she said with confidence.

“I hope so, but seriously, if you need me, please don’t hesitate to call me. I promise there won’t be any ‘I told you so’ moments.”

“Ok, I will,” she said as she left. Reid scanned the room.

“Hey Mendoza, get your ass over here,” he yelled causing all the other officers to direct their attention to him and Mendoza. Several of them started making comments to each other wondering what she was in trouble for now. She arrived at his desk.

“What do you need Reid?” She asked.

“Maxwell is here for our Federal pow wow. Find Harris and that lab rat with the big brain, and meet me in the west conference room.

“10-4,” she said and hurried off while he collected the Millboune file and put it back into his drawer of open case files, then withdrew his increasingly larger Owen file and headed to the front to collect his favorite federal agent.

---Domodedovo International, Moscow---

“Welcome to Moscow, may I see your papers please?” a man dressed in normal suit asked while several Russian military guards stood nearby with a Kalashnikov strung around their shoulders. Several other non uniform KGB stood at the other end of the table. The troupe of American astronauts who saved the world waited at customs waiting to go through the rigorous screening by what Time Magazine reported to be the world’s most effective information-gathering organization. Shephard was first to go through the routine.

“Dr. Shephard, welcome to Soviet Union.” He scanned Eugene’s passport and special entry papers that had been arranged by top level government officials. Their arrival and purpose was of great importance, but the KGB did not take this as an excuse to relax, “I see your hair is different color than in your picture here.”

“Yes, I am turning a little gray so I recently dyed it.”

“I see Doctor, how long will you be in Moscow?” They had all been briefed and well prepared for this, but Eugene was getting frustrated figuring they should know the full itinerary.

“We will be in Moscow for two days followed by a tour of the facilities in Star City. We will be there for about seven days, then we will take a tour of the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan that will last for four days, then we will return to Moscow and fly to the UK.”

“Very good Doctor, we are glad to have you in our country, welcome to Moscow.” After a brief inspection of his personal bags, he was admitted.

Dr. Roth was next to go through and received equal questioning of his business. He resisted a little having been instrumental in the planning work and had been to Russia many times over the last few years. Still they treated him like this was his first visit.

“I understand your frustration Dr.,” the KGB official said in remarkably good English. “Regardless of your visit, our country has rules as to who enters and who does not. I know that is not something you Americans worry about, but we do. Your visit is very important and it would be a shame if someone posed as you to enter into our country and disrupted the festivities between our two countries. Don’t you agree?” His thoroughness was suddenly explained by his fear of letting an American spy inside by letting his guard down. He finished with Roth and repeated the process on the rest of the Deliverance crew and NASA officials. The group was led by a man who introduced himself as Yuri Borov who was in charge of their care for the duration of the stay. He took them outside where a bus was waiting for them.

“What about our luggage?” Collins asked.

“We do not want you to worry about your belongings, they will be taken to your hotel rooms, where they will be waiting for you,” Yuri said addressing the who group answering the question they all had in their minds, “please, we have schedule to keep, people are waiting.” A few minutes later, when everyone was settled, the bus departed for the hotel.

---Houston Police Department, Westside---

Reid went over the developments of the case over the course of the last three months with Maxwell who reviewed the copied documents added to the case file as Reid briefed him.

“Great going kid, way to make some progress,” he said referring to Reid’s 35 year youth compared to his 55 years. This was going to be his last year before retirement. He had had a meager run with the Bureau, never rising very high, and a somewhat spotty record that had more failures than achievements. For about three years, his superiors were convinced he was finally on the high road, ready to end his career with some rather large cases being solved. His success run was short-lived, and eventually went back to a mediocre performance. This was his last major case and like Reid, it was dumped on him. Maxwell kept getting the shit assignments more or less to convince him to retire as soon as possible.

“Thank you,” Reid said as he continued, “Mendoza here escorted Mr. Owen’s sister to the house, where they discovered the extra boot print and the missing luggage. Forensics was able to match the boot print with the other found on the floor a week prior. The Sister, who is the half sister of the late Michael Owen, had first-hand knowledge that the luggage was stored on the shelf above the first print. The boot is a standard workman’s boot, size 12. Judging by the hight of the shelf at about 8ft and the boot print only found on the first rung of the step stool, we have determined the hight of the boot owner to be about 5’.7”-5’.8”

“We also lifted a partial fingerprint off of the step stool handle. We are running it through the database, but it is slow going. It might be a while before we can get a match, if that,” Meissner the lab technician said, “it’s definitely from an adult male.”

“That’s just terrific now isn’t it? Your big breakthrough is a print from one of the most popular size and make of men’s work boots, worn by a man who is the average hight for an American male, and a partial fingerprint. Come on, I thought you said you had made a little progress.”

Harris jumped in, “We have, in fact we are most likely sure this isn’t a kidnapping and whoever this mystery man is, Mrs. Owen might have gone with him voluntarily.”

“You guys are killing me, a missing suitcase doesn’t rule out a kidnapping,” Maxwell interjected.

“You’re right, but very specific articles of clothing were packed as if she knew where she was going? We went over this before, but it’s hard to believe that someone who was trying to make it look like a kidnapping would go through the effort of picking warm comfortable clothing, leaving behind any business or formal wear. Same thing for the daughter.”

“There you have it, she ditched her rocket man for someone else and the two hit the road for a cooler climate,” Maxwell said closing the case with his sarcastic rhetoric.

“There was a development that fit that idea almost perfectly.”

“Great a scenario, well let’s hear it,” Maxwell said with excitement.

“Dr. McCormack approached me back in Jan -” Reid had only begun filling him in when Maxwell interrupted.

“- This doctor, she’s the skirt astronaut that spent a year in the taxpayer’s bucket of bolts with our deceased flyboy right?”

“Skirt?” Mendoza said with a little anger in her voice.

“Yeah, skirt, broad, dame, chick. Hey don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great that they are sending women into space, gotta have someone to cook and clean for the other astronauts. Ahahahah,” he started laughing at his own joke.

“Look Maxwell, you mind, that’s not appropriate.”

“What, we’re all guys here,” Maxwell said trying to justify himself. Reid casually shook his head and pointed to Mendoza. He looked at her for a moment and studied her.

“Really, well, no kidding, had me fooled. Do I put my lunch order in with her? Hahahaha.”

“Hey Maxwell, it’s fine with us if you won’t want to touch this case, but do us the favor and leave it to us, but don’t come here and insult my fellow officers as well as the very people who are responsible for you still breathing,” Reid said as Maxwell picked up the file and started reading up on McCormack.

“Ok, back to your scenario, you were saying about the good doctor?”

“Yes, Dr. McCormack approached me back in January. On a hunch she asked me to look into her ex-fiancé, a Bradford Carter. He was in the astronaut training program while she was preparing for her mission. They got engaged prior to her leaving. According to her, about four months into her mission, he began having an affair.”

“Wow, that’s some pretty juicy material for a soap opera. I love it, keep going.”

“Upon her return, he finally confessed and revealed that his mistress is pregnant. They separated, and she moved on. One thing he never told her was who he had the affair with and no one at NASA seems to know.” Maxwell leaned forward, highly interested. “Anyway, Dr. McCormack started to have uneasy feelings and went around the sister to have me follow the ex.”

“So the scenario you propose is that Carter, and Owen’s wife started schtuping while their significant others were on a rock out in space, the Mrs. gets knocked up and can’t bear the thought of NASA painting a big red “A” on her chest for cheating on a great American hero, so she runs and hides. That’s great, why haven’t we found her yet and closed the case?”

“I really wanted to, it was the only, as you keep saying, scenario that fit like a glove. It explained everything from her gradual withdrawal as time progressed all the way to her leaving her old life behind and disappearing. Only problem, she is not Carter's mistress. A NASA admin by the name of Susan Phillips, who is no longer employed there, is.”

“That’s a disappointment, you had me thinking I could retire and put an end to all this funny business. So what did you bother telling me this for?”

“Just because Carter isn’t the stud, it’s still a likely scenario played out with someone else,” Harris said starting to use Maxwell’s favorite FBI term. “There are a few problems, however. First, everyone we interview at NASA were very quick to say impossible. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Owen were still madly in love. Any idea that she was having an affair was unthinkable to even the night janitor.”

“I agree, based on my feedback from Dr. McCormack and Ms. Santucci, Mrs. Owen likely disappeared for other reasons,” Reid said, throwing his opinion on the table. “Still, to be sure, we are looking into her medical records. We are working on getting a court order to subpoena her doctor to see if she has had any pregnancy tests that showed positive. Also, we would be uncertain of her progress until we get an affirmative, so until the court order comes through, we have sent her picture and information to hospitals in case she goes into labor.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, we also have another bit of information that leads us back to Ms. Phillips. Upon reviewing phone records, we came across a pattern that closely synced up with Mrs. Owen’s withdrawal. This number belonged to NASA’s Personnel Department and none other than Ms. Phillips’ line. Apparently, she and Mrs. Owen were friends. Unfortunately Ms. Phillips has not wanted to cooperate with us, so we are working on getting her in here. The process has been slow, but we hope to bring her in for questioning next week.” Maxwell closed his files and put them back in his case.

“Well thank you gentlemen, for wasting my time. You keep up the good police work there, while I go bag a few bad guys. See you again in a few months.”

---Mochba Hotel Bar---

"That was a tiring day wasn't it?" Eugene asked glad to be relaxing after their long day that began the moment they hit the ground.

"Yes indeed, and we haven't even begun our trip. All in all, not nearly as bad as that training we went through, and we can drink, so our situation has improved," Megan said while sipping her wine. They sat at a little table in the corner of the hotel bar. She was about to retire early, when she ran into Eugene in the lobby. He wasn’t tired yet, and wanted to relax a little. Like him, Megan was here solo. Collins was married and brought his wife along. Sean and Debra were spending the evening having a quiet second dinner together, while they had the opportunity. Mitri was also married, but was busy meeting with the engineers from NASA. Megan was grateful that they were mostly brought here for show, while the NASA design team worked with the Russian engineers almost around the clock to start producing results for the taxpayers. For Megan, and Eugene, it was a free night for the two before they had a moderate schedule in Moscow. Tomorrow would be a day spent giving the first love to the Russian politicians, after which they would spend most of the time in Star City.

"Very true, he said, those were some grueling days. It still amazes me how even with all the countries pooling together, we were able to accomplish what we did in two years. Still, in the end, it wasn't enough. Call it luck, a miracle, whatever, somehow we managed to survive and life continued. You ever think about what happened up there?"

"Do you think I would't?" Megan said sarcastically.

"You're right, that was a stupid question. Of course you think about it. I sometimes can't sleep at night, trying to recall just what it was we encountered up there. So let me ask you a better question, just what do you think it was? Certainly something did intercede on our behalf."

"I really don't know."

"That's surprising, you and Collins seemed to have the most hope in what you were hearing. Someone or something was indeed outside. Sean told me all about the rest of the encounter. With all he told me, it did sound like Michael. He knew the systems, and procedures, but how could he move the vehicle? It’s just impossible, and I don’t really buy it. What about little space friends. You know, I have heard rumors that a few ground based telescopes that were fortunate enough to have a clear sky that night recorded a large glowing white ring next to the asteroid.”

“A ring?”

“Yes, it was pulsating and shortly after it appeared, the asteroid supposedly started moving towards its mass.”

“So a giant flying saucer appeared and sucked it up with its tractor beam? You know there was a time when you wouldn’t have considered that as a remote possibility. Not much of a skeptic any more are you?”

“Oh, believe me, I am skeptical as ever. Skepticism is good, it’s what helps drive good science, but I was taking things I thought to be impossible off the table on the account they were part of the fairytale category. I assumed the supernatural doesn’t exist, because no one has ever encountered it. Those that claim they have are considered nuts. I know we have, and as far as I know, we aren’t crazy. So, now I am putting my skepticism to the test. If the supernatural is false, then a very logical, rational explanation can account for that asteroid moving. So far, I have found none. I am close to concluding that there is something out there. Is is a personal God like Sean believes, I don’t know? We talk about it a lot, but I don’t think I can buy it completely. What about you, you're Irish, so you have to be Catholic right? What do you think about all this stuff?”

“Half Irish, my mom’s side is British. So my parent’s families didn’t get along on at least two levels, but you’re right, I grew up Catholic. I went to church and all, and I believe in God, but I don’t really give it any thought. It’s more of the way I was raised and was just told to believe it. Going back to those aliens, do you believe the stories?” Megan asked, having first hand knowledge that they did exist.

“Tough to say yes or no to. I know a lot about geology, but even more so, I know where everything comes from.”

“You do? Where?”

“Stars. Rocks, metals, gasses, you, me, everything on the periodic table, were all created by stars. The first formed early in the universe’s history from only hydrogen, helium and and trace amounts of boron. They lived for millions of years before exploding. Light heavy elements were created and formed the next generation of stars. These, like our Sun, had very long life spans, about nine to ten billion years. It wan’t until these died out that heavy elements required to form a planet like earth, and give birth to life, could be formed. This means there is limited windows of time for other planets to have formed and give rise to an intelligent species that could build the technology to reach us. Earth formed about the time those population II stars were dying out. Are there intelligent aliens out there? Maybe, but it’s likely they aren’t that much older than we are, and if so, it’s highly improbable that they will be stopping by anytime soon.”

“That’s pretty fascinating, I never thought about it like that. So these supernova is what gave us all our elements. I remember studying a bit about that in med school, but we didn’t dwell too much on the subject. How often do these explosions occur?”

“Well, we are studying one right now.”

Megan shifted in her seat. “Really?”

“Yes, it was visible in the southern sky starting in the middle of last month, February 23rd to be exact. It is expected to reach peak magnitude in May. The data is still coming in, but the papers I have been reading are quite interesting.” Megan started thinking deeply. Michael had told her that Kaaren’s reason for coming here was her home star was going to explode. A slightly uneasy feeling came over her even through the time frame Kaaren gave for her star to die was all wrong.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, I am fine, wine is hitting me. Gene, you think I can take a look at those journals when we get back, I would like to read about them?”

“Of course. In fact, I would love to show you what I have been working on sometime. How about you come by my lab, meet my new partner, and maybe after we can have dinner."

"This sounds a little like a date?" Megan said with some of her own skepticism.

"Perhaps," Eugene said neither accepting or denying the invitation, "it’s the least you can do after you tranquilized me.”

“You deserved it,” Megan said quickly, but playfully.”

“I did, didn’t I. Well, I really came apart at the seams, and freaked out. It bothers me, because I know you saved our asses by stabbing my ass. If you hadn’t done that, and I injured Sean, we would all be dead right now. As far as I am concerned, you were pretty heroic and I was acting like a frightened child.”

“Gene, we all have our moments where fear grabs ahold of us. We are all very strong, but we have our limits. We are human, nothing to apologize about.”

“Well, I will never let my fear harm anyone again. After all, I have stared death in the face and lived to tell about it,” Eugene said as the bartender came over with two glasses of a clear liquid.

“We didn’t order these,” Megan said.

“It is from woman at end of bar,” he said pointing to no one in particular, “I see she is gone. Miss, she said she is big fan of you and wanted to buy you two a drink. This is very good vodka,” he said. Megan and Eugene toasted and took a drink. As Megan did, she noticed some writing on the napkin stuck to the bottom of the glass. When Eugene wasn’t looking, she looked closely at the writing. It was Michael’s sloppy cursive handwriting. It read “open your window.”

---Security Briefing---

"Brother, is has come to my attention that you are in danger," Major Sergei Mitri said to his younger brother Nikolai, "There is a plot by a group of extremists who would like to exploit your national status to rally the people into a revolution and overthrow the Politburo. Their strength is growing and some have managed to get on the inside. Intel says a woman of unknown description will make contact with you. It is important that you do not fall to her seduction, she will only lead to your capture."

"My dear brother, thank you for looking after me. It seems we are in difficult place, what you described is what we both want for this country. I have much freedom and power given to me for doing essentially nothing, but like you, I long for our people to be free. If my capture can help move that cause along, than so be it."

"You are too humble. You did a great thing up there, you should be proud of yourself. I am proud of you. I agree with you that we both want the same thing for our people, but there are other ways. Violence is not the answer. I have been very ruthless all my life, and after the asteroid almost killed us all, my ways have changed. I want to see a free Russia, but I do not want to achieve that through my brother's blood."

"Sometimes, blood needs to be spilled in order for a people to be free. Our American friends know that all to well."

"Maybe you're right, but I am still being selfish, and I will not let my younger brother be the one to sacrifice himself, there are other ways. Now, my most trusted men will be at the banquet, watching your every move. We have rehearsed possible scenarios in which some one might try harming you, or taking you. My men are very good and have been able to intervene with lightning speed to take you to a safe location. I would like to spend some time with you going over those procedures, so you know what to expect."

"When do you want me?"

"Right now, my men are waiting."

---Mockba Hotel, Moscow---

“Damn it, where the hell is my? Son of a bitch,” Megan swore as she unpacked her suitcases, completely laying everything out on the bed. Her cosmetic and toiletry case was missing. “Great, those commie bastards are probably going to sell my cheap Avon cosmetics for top dollar to some Russian bitch who doesn’t know any better.”

“Megan,” She jumped out of her skin at the sudden presence of someone in her room. She turned to see Micael standing there by the window.

“Jeez Michael, you wanna warn me next time?”

“Sorry, I thought you were expecting me,” Megan gave Kaaren’s body a curious examination.

“What the hell did you do to your hair?” she asked, noticing the straight pale brunette coloring.

“Nothing, it’s a wig.”

“Since when are you wearing a disguise?” she asked, since Michael never bothered hiding his appearance before.

“Since I arrived in the Motherland,” he said. “Megan, a few things. One, my name is Anzhela, do not call me by anything else while we are here. Two, watch those commie comments. Your suite isn’t bugged, but you never know who can be listening.”

“How do you know it’s not bugged?”

“I can see radio wavelengths, and I can also hear very well. I can’t detect any surveillance equipment. Rather shocking that they aren’t listening in, but be careful anyway. Remember, you can whisper to me, and I can hear you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don’t bother me right now,” she said rather rudely.

“You ok?”

“No not really. It was a long bumpy flight, my things are missing, and I am not feeling well right now.” Michael put her arms around her.

“It’s ok, don’t let that stuff get you down. That was a long flight though.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear you rubbing that shit in right now.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, why are you so damn touchy? I wasn’t trying to rub anything in, I was going to tell you I tailed your plane the entire flight. It was probably the slowest I have flown in this body.”

"You flew along side out plane the entire 12 hours? Why, I don't need you following me around like that, besides, isn't flying supposed to be the safest form of transportation? What the hell do you think is going to happen?"

"Megan, I have never seen you like this before, what's wrong? He asked as she frantically went through her things for the tenth time.

"Some of my things are missing and I need them."

"What are you missing?"

"Look, I need you to do something for me," Megan said in a soft whisper. "I need you to go to the store for me and pick something up. At the airport they unpacked my bags and some of my things are missing."

"Sure," I said, "what do you need?"

"Um, can you get me," she paused trying to say the next part, "I need some," she paused again clearly uncomfortable to make the request, "shit, I'm a doctor and I can't say this for some reason, but well to be blunt, I need you to buy me some Pads. There, I said it." A look of fear crossed Karen's face.

"You mean pads, as in, um, pads?"

"Jesus Michael, yes, those kinds of pads."

"Well that explains everything?”

“Screw you.” Megan said.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Look, why do you need me to go, why can't you go get them yourself?"

"Really? That's your answer, you can't go run a simple errand? It’s an emergency. What are you afraid of anyway, you should be a seasoned pro by now?" She looked at Karen and saw the expression on her face. "What?"

"That's just it Megan, I'm not a pro. In fact I have never bought them. Ok, once in a vending machine, but I never used it."

"What do you mean?"

"It's what I have been trying to tell you. I must be different, because I haven't had that friend come visit me."

"You unbelievably lucky bastard. Now I hate you." She paused, realizing she was starting to get overly bitchy. She herself was lucky and didn't suffer from PMS nearly as bad as her sister, but when her time came and her stress was high, her hormones took hold. "Sorry, had to get that out. Ok, so talk to me, you have never had your, um...jeez, you've never had a period?"

"No, I'm telling you, nothing. The night I called you, you know the day we met at the cafe in DC, I started freaking out. I thought I was getting PMS and the inevitable was just around the corner, but nothing ever happened. I was so scared as I had no idea what to do, and no one I could ask to help me."

"It's ok Michael, every one of us girls has been there. When I was 12, the first couple months I locked myself in my room and refused to go to school until it was over. I fought and fought with my parents to let me stay home, afraid if someone found out. The first time, it was acceptable and they let me stay home, but eventually I had to learn to accept it as a normal part of an adult woman's life. It's something we all go through. You, maybe you are lucky, but I think you should strongly consider letting me examine you when we get home. I promise you, I will be very gentle."

"Hell no, thanks but no thanks. I have barely touched myself, let alone let my best friend go exploring down there."

"Michael, I'm not going exploring, I want to learn what makes you different so that we can be prepared to deal with issues should they arise. Any way, let’s talk about this when we get home. Are you going to help me, or what?"

"Seriously, why can't you go buy them, what do you need me to go for?"

"Because I don't want these crappy Russian ones, they are made out of the same material as their tanks."

"You're kidding, you want me to fly back to the US and buy you a pack of tampons? Jeez, this is every man's worst nightmare and then some."

"Michael, don't be a wuss. This is not taboo, and you don't look like a man. Just stop in New York, and you will never see that cashier again. In thirty seconds they will forget all about you. Now come on, can you help your best friend, or are you going to force me use the ones made by the Soviet Military?"

"Ok, but you owe me big time. Now what kind do you need?" She handed me a slip of paper with the precise type and brand written out as well as a list of other items that vanished from her luggage.

"Pads huh?"

"Yeah Michael, they should be easy for the pilot in you to pick out, they have wings." She started laughing as I put my arm around her and gave her a playful hug.

"You're lucky I love you so much, otherwise you would have been up shit creek with that comment." She was a little taken aback by my open expression of affection.

"What do you mean you love me Michael?" Karen stopped to really ponder what she meant.

"You know Megan, you’re my friend. You have made my last,” she paused in thought, “almost six months now, bearable. I’m very happy to have you as a friend. Now, before I start crying like a chick, I gotta get going and go do something manly like go hunting, or pee on a tree."

"Nonsense, you can be sensitive without being female, there is nothing wrong with a man expressing what's on his heart. Most of us girls love that in a man. Now be a man, and go to the store for me.

---New York City---

“Can I help you miss?” the store clerk asked as I browsed the cosmetic aisle of the drug store in the Upper East Side. She was an elderly woman who looked as if she lived her whole life in the store.

“I’m ok, thank you,” she said, lying through her teeth, the man in her refusing to ask for help.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

She scanned through Megan's list and added items one by one into the hand basket. ‘Hair brush, check. Tooth brush and tooth paste, check. Easy parts done, now, what’s next?’ She stood in front of the cosmetic aisle with a completely dumb look on her face. ‘God, chicks are complicated. All this crap just to go out.’ It seemed as if there were a dozen different shades of foundation, several dozen for blush and lipstick. “So help me god if I find that no good SOB at the airport who didn’t put all of Megan’s belongings back into her suitcase.”

“You sure you could’t use a little help?” the clerk said with her local accent kicking into full gear. I was already hating this experience. I swallowed all of my male pride and conceded by saying…

“Yes, can you please. I have no idea what I am doing.”

“First time in make up?”

“No I don’t wear the stuff, it’s for a friend.”

“Let’s see what you got here,” she looked over Megan’s list and one by one started filling the basket up with little jars, tubes, brushes and countless other complicated female accessories.

“Jeez, she can’t go two weeks without this crap?” I accidentally said aloud.

“You sound like my husband, yet you look like my daughter. You’re not kidding when you say you don’t wear make up, you’re quite a lucky girl, You don’t need anything to make that face look any more beautiful than it already is.”

“Thanks,” I said as the gears in my head started spinning. “Say, what would I need if I wanted to make my face look less pretty?”

“Now what would you wanna make your pretty face look all harrable for?” Her accent was killing me. The Texans were bad enough, but the local back east folk were difficult to understand at times.

“I don’t like being looked at for my beauty. I want to hide it.”

“You know, I thought the same way when I was your age. Them boys was annoying at times, but you wanna know something, you’re gonna get to be my age and will forever wish you were the beautiful broad you are now.”

“I kinda understand what you are saying." I said while continuing the rest of the sentence silently in my mind 'besides I really don’t plan on growing old in this body. Kaaren can have that experience.' “Still, what would I need?” The clerk was nice and spent about twenty minutes teaching me to apply makeup to subtract Kaaren’s beauty.

“Here, look in the mirrah,” I had no idea what she just said, then saw her hold a mirror and it clicked. She looked at her image. The strong shadows broke up the natural contours of her face and made it look a little rough. Along with the brunette wig and glasses, my face certainly looked less attractive. Still, I if I were a guy again and saw this face walking down the street, I would have still gone after it.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Can you bag that up separately for me?” I asked as she went back to the list.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have this particular type of Maxi Pads in stock. There’s another store a couple blocks down that might have them.” I thanked her again and after finding a cheap backpack, paid for everything and headed down the block. The make-up was working and fewer people were staring at her. The neighborhood was slowly slipping downhill in terms of cleanliness, and the types of people roaming around were not the kind a lone woman should be walking amongst. I ducked into the store and found the feminine hygiene section, scanning the products with super speed, finding the ones on Megan’s list.

“Will that do for you Miss?” the clerk said as I timidly set the pads on the counter. “That will be $2.65.” She withdrew a stack of American dollars mixed in with Rubles and scrounged for a five dollar bill. I looked up to hand it to the clerk, who was standing there with his hands in the air, looking at someone behind me.

“Nice and easy bitch, hand over the cash,” a voice behind me said. I slowly turned to see a man in a ski mask pointing a sawed-off double barrel shotgun at my chest. ‘Shit, all I needed tonight.’ He looked at her, then the counter, then back at her. "Hurry up, hand that cash over and don't get all menstrual on me." My blood started boiling and I might as well have been PMSing, because his comment turned her from calm to raging in a matter of seconds.

"Screw you, get a job jerk." He was in a state of shock that someone had the guts to stand up to him, completely uncaring if he fired or not.

"I said hand over the money, or I will splatter you all over the shelf," he yelled.

"No, It's my money and I'm not going to give it to a piece of crap such as yourself, put the gun down and get the hell out of here before you get hurt." It was clear he was scared at my domineering presence. He was mostly talk and afraid to shoot and began backing up as I walked toward him, confident the shotgun wouldn't hurt me. The clerk was hiding behind the counter as I maneuvered the thug toward the front door. He forgot about the end cap at the end of the shelf and tripped backward over a stack of Pissweiser cases. Startled, he discharged the right barrel, while I stood there dumbfounded, trying to react. The world around me began slowing down and the image before me came to a crawling speed as the red hot glowing pellets left the barrel inching toward my upper chest. In panic, I stood there frozen, not knowing what to do as the cloud of lead grew closer and closer.

The buckshot impacted my tan trench coat, shredding it to pieces.   I was horrified as next, a cloud of crimson erupted in front of me indicating a massive wound.    As the tiny pellets destroyed my upper chest, splattering my blood into the air.   The tiny red droplets hovered in front of me and in slow motion fluttered to the ground like confetti.  A sensation started traveling throughout my body as the damage sent messages to my brain indicating trouble, but after a moment, I realized it wasn’t pain I was feeling, but an intense feeling of pleasure.  My face felt flustered as a tingling sensation began building around my center body mass spreading spreading   between my legs.   It was a heavenly feeling and I was enjoying the new sensation as I watched Kaaren's alien blood behave strangely as gravity slowly took hold of the droplets.  After what seemed like an eternity, it dawned on me that the strange behavior wasn't because the blood was out of this world, but because it wasn't blood.  Liz’s red sweater under my coat that had been obliterated and the red cotton fibers were slowly floating to the ground.  The world started to speed up again as the assailant stood there in shock at seeing me unharmed after being hit from such a close range. His shock quickly changed to laughter as he looked up at me from the floor.   He was pointing his empty shotgun at my chest laughing hysterically when I looked down.   Both of my perfect breasts where not only unharmed, but fully exposed through the hole the shotgun blast made in my sweater.  I stood there feeling vulnerable, exposed for the dirtbag to enjoy, while relishing in the pleasurable sensations the buckshot released after impacting Kaaren’s dense nipples.  The muscles in my lower region felt as if they were contracting and for the first time and seemed to be announcing a sudden presence that required attention.   I shook sexual desires out of my head and refocused my attention to covering up my bare tits, so that I could deal with the asshole with the shotgun.  The world started moving in normal speed again, and I seized the opportunity while the thug laid there laughing.  Quickly I kicked the shotgun, but he was already in the process of pulling the trigger.  The second barrel discharged into my lower leg as I brought it up impacted his hand and sent the empty weapon flying across the small shop. My hearing was starting to register the sounds of people reacting to the shots.  Switching to infrared, I could see the white shapes across the street moving toward the shop.  I was half naked and completely unharmed and in a matter of seconds, was going to be on display for the world to see.

While keeping one arm covering my boobs, I grabbed him with my left hand and threw him out the store window where he landed on the hood of a car.  The sudden shattering of glass and the thug coming to a hard landing on yellow cab, provided a distraction, and gave me a couple extra seconds to get away.  Faster than speeding buckshot, I left a five dollar bill on the counter and grabbed the pads with Kaaren’s prints all over them, darting out the back.  I cleared the door and went vertical, making my way into the safety of the sky with the pads under my arm, still feeling aroused.

---Bunker---

Liz woke late worried that she slept in too long, leaving Ashley to fend for herself. Her eyes were still hazy when she opened the door and saw Ashley sitting at the table talking.

“Good morning sweetie,” Liz said. Ashley turned to see her mom coming out of the bedroom.

“Morning mom,” she said in return. Dwayne rocked his chair back a bit so that he could see Liz approaching from around the wall.

“Hey Liz, good morning. Want some coffee?”

“Yes, please,” he quickly got up to fetch a cup.

“You, keep working, one more page to go,” Dwayne said pointing to her homework.

“What are you two doing honey?” Liz said as she bent over and kissed the top of Ashley’s head while examining the contents of the table.

“Dwayne is teaching me Algebra.”

“And she is really good at it, she picks this stuff up really fast. She has that science kind of mind. I wonder where she gets that from,” he said, stirring an emotional response from Liz. She froze for a moment, fighting to keep her grief caged, not wanting to deal with it at the moment. After a brief struggle, the beast was cast back into the depths of her heart where it would remain for another hour before she would have to fight it again.

“You are, well mommy is very proud of you. Dwayne is very good with Math and science. He can teach you all the things your mother can’t, so you listen to him, okay?”

“I will,” she said. Dwayne added a pack of sugar and a couple of scoops of powdered creamer into Liz’s coffee, just the way she liked it.

“Thank you,” Liz said, taking the cup from Dwayne as he resumed the lesson with Ashley. They continued working the problems, and Dwayne kept throwing variations at her. One by one, she was able to process them and with little help solve the problems in her head. After another half an hour they stopped. Ashley got up from the table and ran toward the couch. “Hey, clean up the table, and say thank you to Dwayne for working with you.” Ashley turned around to face him.

“Thank you Uncle Dwayne,” she said, giving him a slight hug around his waist.

“I’m your uncle now, is that so?”

“Why not, you and daddy were friends right?” Dwayne started to feel uneasy. He was perfectly happy and content in his world, and Ashley’s sudden affection for him was stabbing at his conscience. The last three months, he had been doing as Liz wanted and started to give Ashley a little attention. She fed off of it, and so did he. Now Liz was burning for him, but he actually enjoyed being the father figure, even if it was just a charade. Ashley calling him uncle was calling him to question what he was doing with them. Why was he doing this? He knew he could be supporting her top side with nothing sinister going on. Part of him wanted out, but he was stuck. Any exit strategy shy of disposing them would result in his arrest and a life in prison. He knew from watching the news that he was safe and the authorities had nothing to go on. In five months, no one had connected him as a suspect. Hell no one thought they had been taken, but rather disappeared on their own accord. Still he had to find a way out of this, one where he could escape.

One idea that would work, would be to flee the country, leaving them in the bunker with the door unlocked. Eventually when the power was shut off, or they ran out of food, they would emerge, and he would be long gone, in a country without extradition laws. He could run now, while no one was perusing him, and settle down comfortably and start a new life. He was becoming overwhelmed inside and had to go.

“Dwayne, what’s wrong?” Liz asked, seeing the rapid change in his face. He shook his head.

“Nothing, just thinking how sweet your little...well, not so little girl is. I don’t deserve you two in my life. I wish Michael were here. You deserve him. That day I first saw you, I was envious of him. You were so beautiful in that red gown sitting at the bar. I didn’t know who you were, and tried hitting on you, then Michael came up to you and I realized you belonged to a good guy. I confess Liz, I hated him that moment. I wanted to be him, everything about Michael, he was better than I, his life was better.”

“Dwayne, it’s okay. I understand, I really do. You have been so strong for us, and we haven’t been doing the same for you. It’s okay to let it out.” Liz hugged him, “You were meant to want us. Something was preparing you to care about us, because frankly, no one else seemed to care about what happened to Ashley and I.” The more she talked, the more his sudden sense of guilt left him as he milked every moment she spent praising him. Being needed by her was a rush, and as long as she needed him, he would keep her around.

---Big Bear---

I stood in the bunker holding my Colt 1911. I loaded a fresh magazine and sealed the door so the gun shot couldn't be heard. The 12-gauge rounds did major damage to my clothing, but after examining my body, I was completely unharmed. When the pellets hit my skin, I became sexually aroused for the first time. It was scary for a brief moment thinking the red in the air was blood, but as it turned out, it was only my sweater and even scarier when, in the midst of being shot at, became uncontrollably hot and bothered. The feelings subsided on my flight back to Houston, but something was bothering me, so after a quick change, I headed to California.

What bothered me, what the hit to my lower leg. The buckshot impact produced a strange reaction and that's what I needed to duplicate. On the concrete wall inside the bunker I had a pair of my lycra pants stretched and fastened tightly against the wall. I chambered a round and took aim. Slowly I squeezed the trigger and discharged a round from about the same distance I took the shotgun blast from. I entered into my high speed observation watching the round in slow motion, inching it's way towards the target. As the bullet impacted, it compressed against the concrete and mushroomed while tearing he nylon fabric in the process. A large hole appeared as the stretched fibers suddenly gave way. The bullet bounced off the wall chipping some of the concrete in the process. I fired several more times with the same results.

I sat and pondered my next experiment for several minutes before gaining the courage to do what I had in mind. My ears were still ringing as I inserted a fresh magazine and pointed the barrel point blank at my leg, still wearing an identical pair of stretch pants. My heart raced and I yelled trying to overcome my fear. My Colt's custom hair-light trigger gave way after a slight squeeze and discharged a round right into my upper thigh. There was no pain, the round harmlessly bounced off my thigh, but incredibly, the pants weren't damaged. I aimed lower, where my shredded jeans were still intact and fired again. The bullet tore through the loose fitting jeans, but bounced off leaving the tights underneath intact.

"Amazing," I said as I prepared for my next experiment. On the middle shelf of the supply closet was my tool box. I opened it up and fished for what I was looking for. Inside I found a small butane torch similar to ones used by chefs. It wasn't suitable for welding, but it worked wonders when it came to rapidly defrosting anything around the cabin that froze. After refilling the unit, I hit the electric switch and lit the torch. The blue flame crackled to life as I approached the wall. The nylon instantly shriveled up and ignited the moment the flame hit the pants. Next I turned to my leg. The blue denim caught fire the moment the torch hit the fabric and caused a small fire to break out on my leg forcing me to temporarily stop and pat it out. My hands worked to smother the fire while receiving no burn damage themselves. The heat from the fire went unnoticed by my body. I began to wonder just how heat resistant this body was, so I reignited the torch and held the flame far from my hand, moving it slowly, closer and closer as I confirmed the heat wasn't harming me. Eventually, the torch flame was an inch away and my hand wasn't burning, only registering a moderate change in temperature. I waited a minute before concluding I was pretty heat resistant.

"Now for the final test," I said as I put the torch to the Lycra pants I had on under my jeans. Nothing. The flame was being deflected the same as on my hand and was undamaged from the extreme heat. After a minute without being consumed, I turned off the torch and set it down. While I thought about the results of my experimentation, I sat on the chair in the corner. "So that is why Kaaren chose to wear such a silly suit. There was nothing special about the suit in particular, just that it hugged my body very closely. There must be something about me that radiates some kind of field that keeps anything within it protected to the same degree as my body, yet it has to be very close. I wondered how close, so I conducted a final experiment. After a brief change and a little struggle with fragments of my jeans, I readied the torch. Safe from prying eyes, my bullet ridden burnt Lycra pants were back on my body, the holes doing little to cover my private areas. My left butt cheek was exposed, but I didn't care. I stuffed the tights with strips from the jeans and targeted that area with the torch. The black nylon immediately began burning wherever the denim strips were present, but where the tights hugged my skin, nothing happened. My body indeed was protecting any clothes that had a tight fit. This is why my sweater and jeans were destroyed, while my chest, lower body and my tights were intact.

I cupped my breasts in my hands and gave them a good shake, "Well, Michael, if you are going to fight crime, your days of letting these puppies run free are over."

---Megan’s Hotel Room---

Megan's room was dark, but the window was still open. I quickly flew inside and closed the window. She was nowhere to be seen. The bathroom door was closed and my vision picked up a lot of heat inside. I started laughing as I listened to her through the wall singing to herself while she sat in the tub. Careful not to startle her, I made a little extra noise knowing a sudden knock on the door would scare her. After a few heavy footsteps a voice called out...

"Karen?" Damn it, she has a short memory, I just told her not to call me that.

"I'm back,” I said through the door. “I will leave everything on the bed and leave you be."

"No, wait; stay. Hold on a second." I waited a few as I heard the water splashing around, "OK, you can come in."

"That's OK," I said not wanting to get that intimate with her.

"Come in; I want to see you. I am covered up, so don't be shy." Timidly, I opened the door and stepped inside the steam-filled room. Megan's head was all that was sticking out of the thick layer of bubbles.

"Feeling better?" I said watching her soaking in the hot water, completely relaxed.

"Night and day. A good hot bath works miracles on the female body. Say, you can't see anything with those eyes of yours can you?"

"No, it doesn't work that way. I can see silhouettes, but no details. Right now your body is a little hotter than the water."

"You said you can see radio, too, right?"

"Yes, up through microwave. Found out I was able to see your aircraft’s RADAR emissions. I got bored after the first hour and started toying with my vision."

"What about X-rays?"

"Don't know; I have to spend a little more time out of the atmosphere and see. You know, I just thought that I have been so preoccupied with finding Liz, I haven't been back out into space much."

"Well, go! What's stopping you?"

"Nothing really, just haven't been motivated to go back out there. Look, I really don’t want to talk about anything that will make me think of them.” She sat in silence for a while

"So what took you so long? You have been gone a couple hours; were you able to find everything OK?"

"I had to go home and change. I had a little accident, a rather embarrassing one too." Megan sat up a little, showing the top of her breasts before settling back down.

"An accident?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you. Some bastard shot me with a 12-gauge and–" I paused.

"–A 12-gauge? And...Keep going. Did he hit you?" She was really interested.

“Yes.”

“My god, did it hurt you at all?”

“Just my pride,” I said deciding to forego telling her I got aroused instead of feeling pain.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, let’s just say that those pads I picked up for you aren’t the only thing extra absorbent; found this body here is pretty good at absorbing kinetic energy, only my favorite sweater took a rather rough beating.”

“Where did the bullets hit you?”

“Buckshot,” I said correcting her, “it was a shotgun. Hundreds of little pellets that spread out and do a lot of small, but collected damage if used up close,” I raised my hands and paused. After a moment of embarrassment, I realized I was suddenly comfortable telling her about it, so I continued and drew a pretend circle around my breasts, “Let’s just say, when the smoke cleared both of my guns were drawn,” I said while I hopped up and took a seat on the countertop overlooking Megan. She was giggling.

“Oh my god, that is so funny. So you were topless in public?”

“Yeah, looking back it is pretty funny. I would have been scarred for life had that happened a few months ago, but it turned out to be a good lesson. It taught me something about Kaaren’s body I didn’t know.”

“What’s that?” I explained about my experimentation and the end results of my testing. How I was able to put my theory to the test and produce consistent results.

“Turns out, if it’s a tight fit, it’s just as invincible as me. Take a look; this should make you proud,” I said as I started to unbutton my shirt.

“Well look at you! Looks like you finally holstered your guns there,” she said looking at the black sports bra I was wearing underneath my shirt.

"So who is Anzhela?" Megan finally asked in a soft whisper. I reached into my coat pocket and withdrew her papers. After unfolding the identification documents, I held them up to Megan to look at. "OK, so who is she?" To be safe, I turned the tub on to confuse any microphones that I might have missed. She was about to protest when I held my finger to my mouth indicating I wanted to be quiet. Knowing much about audiovisual systems, she figured out what I was trying to accomplish.

"I have actually been coming here for a couple months. After you told me you were planning a trip, I have been spending a little time here. Like I said, moving around isn't as easy in the USA. I came across Anzhela last month. Surprisingly, she not only knows someone involved with the state dinner in a few days, but she has a very close resemblance to me."

"You do look a lot like her. So where is she now? I don't think she is going to let you take her ID and assume her identity."

"Actually, she did just that. I made a little deal with her. Turns out she was in a little trouble here, so I helped her immigrate to the U.S. I won't get into the details, but I got her settled in a Russian community in Southern California. I promised I would help her when I got back. In the meantime, I am now her, and able to safely blend in."

"This guy, who is he?" Megan asked wanting to know more about Vladimir.

"I am not sure; I have only spoken with him over the phone. He is supposed to make contact with me tomorrow. According to Anzhela, he is supposed to have a connection that can get me into Star City and a job on the night of the event. It will allow me to be close to you and Mitri."

"Why go through all the risk? What's so important that you have to go?"

"There is no real risk for me. If I get caught, I am out of here. It's important to me, Megan. Next to you, Mitri was my closest friend...OK, well Sean too, but that's a given considering we are both pilots. I want to see him again, but his security is too tight. I can't get close without giving myself away."

"And have you thought long and hard about what you are going to say to him when you do get to see him? What would you even say? You can't tell him the truth, the off-truth, or that BS you have been telling the police. You know, if they ever get curious, by the way, they are going to run a check on you and find out your mother never had a daughter. I am frankly surprised they haven't already. Look, I think you are getting in over your head, and need to back off a bit. I know you think you are untouchable, but someone is going to figure it all out, and your 12 years will be miserable."

"Maybe you are right; I do need to stay a bit more low-key. But in reality, I am not worried. As for the police, I don't think they even cared about investigating the disappearance until I showed up. Two, if I do get caught by one or two people, I doubt very much they would talk about it for fear getting thrown in the loony bin. Take Clint, for example; he hasn't said a word about me."

"Who's Clint?" Megan asked.

"Millbourne?" She had no clue, then I realized I hadn't told her about that. "Never mind."

"That name sounds familiar," she said thinking. “Oh, he's that rich guy that busted his car up pretty bad. Eugene knows him. He did some consulting for his oil company years ago. Said the guy's a real asshole," I was starting to realize what Megan was talking about staying low-key. Now, with Eugene in the picture, he had a clear path leading back to me. It might be dangerous for Eugene to see me.

"Asshole? Was he ever–he was beating his wife on a regular basis. Not anymore, though."

"Why? What did you do?"

"Not much, really. I got him to beat me. He might as well have a bionic hand now after they reconstructed it."

"Michael, that is terrible,” she said and paused leading me to think she was showing displeasure. She continued, “way to stand up for us girls."

"I stopped to see him a couple weeks ago. Still has all these pins in his hand. We have regular visits where he wets himself at my presence. The wife seems happier, though, so I guess my work paid off."

“We will see, but don’t get yourself in trouble, you are my friend, and I don’t want to see you hurt. You might be immortal; those around you are not. If you get careless, someone you love can get hurt, and I know your heart, Michael; that is very mortal. Now, I love you, but that man inside doesn’t get to see me naked.”

“Oh nice, I was still a man in a small space ship and I got to see you naked all the time, now I’m not allowed to?”

“No Michael, you can’t. Now be kind and please go get my stuff you brought me,”

“Oh,” I said with a dumb look on my face.

“Yeah, Michael; it clicking in that brain of yours? Hurry up and let me get dried off and ready for bed. If you want to stay around a little longer you can, but I have to be up early so I can’t talk that much longer.” After an eternity, she was finally out and ready for bed. We ended up talking for another fifteen minutes before I went back to Anzhela’s apartment where I would spend a long night with nothing but lousy Russian programming to watch.

---

“You are very a beautiful woman Anzhela,” Vladimir looked over her papers, “Anzhela Surkov from Arkhangelsk. Very cold up there. What is your reason to come to Moscow?”

“Go to school and work. Both very difficult to do back home. Moscow has good schools,” I said in my best Russian.

“I see,” Vladimir said. “Yes, we have very good schools. What school you want to attend?”

“State University, study Aerospace Technology,” it was a stretch, but if he questioned me, I knew how to answer; besides, it would pique his interest in light of the nature of the dinner.

“You are very pretty to study such complicated field.”

“Thank you,” I said with as cute and seductive of a smile I could force myself to muster.

“I am worried; you have been in trouble in past. Not very good if you want to go to State University. You were with a group who opposed Soviet Union, is this not true?” It was true, Anzhela had a boyfriend who was trying to start an uprising opposing the Communist Party. She was arrested along with him and his friends. He father seemed important in the shipping yards that serve as year-round seaport. His influence and her lack of actual involvement with her boyfriend’s revolution allowed her to escape prosecution, but she had a charge filed against her that continued to stay with her. Her boyfriend and his followers were never seen again, likely sent to hard labor camps. “University not accept you with such past; I don’t think we can work together.”

“Please, I was younger and stupid back then. I let my feelings jeopardize my future. I did not believe in his cause.”

“Very well. I do have important job, one that get you special privilege, and maybe we forget your history. You think about it, I contact you tomorrow if my superiors agree.” It ended up taking a couple days, but for some reason he wanted me. He had special papers that would get me into Star City as a guest worker. Vladimir detailed the job working in the kitchen and at some point would let me meet the famous Nikolai Mitri. It was hard to believe that everything aligned so perfectly and I would be able to get in, and get close to him, while still keeping a close eye on Megan.

---Banquet---

“...On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union launched the first ever satellite into space. Immediately following, was a race by our country and the United States to put the first man into space, the first to walk in space, the first to circle the moon, and the first to land on the moon. Our countries spent many years locked in a peaceful competition fighting to etch our nation’s achievements into the history books. In 1984 that competition ended when the United States of America and the Soviet Union stopped racing against each other, and began racing against the clock. Our two countries vowed now to turn space into yet another battleground, and to preserve the unknown frontier for the good of all mankind. However, the remnants left over from the birth of our solar system decided to declare war, not on one country or another, but on all of humanity. For the first time, these two great superpowers laid down their weapons and worked side by side to overcome this threat.”

“Tonight, we welcome the three American astronauts, Dr. Eugene Shephard, Pilot Sean E. Collins, and Dr. Megan C. McCormack who returned from Earth’s most important mission, having preserved all life, so that we may live another day. We also take this time to remember those who are no longer with us. I take moment to say something about Commander Michael Owen. When Yeltsov and I first learned we would be working with Americans, we were afraid they would not accept us. For some that was true, but Commander Owen had deep compassion for us and treated us as if we were all one big family. He knew us well and spoke our language and by the time we left Earth, we had become close comrades. We spent many long days in small spacecraft and when the day’s job was complete and we had free time, we spent many hours getting to know each other. I had hoped my friend would come visit me, but in the end, he gave his life to save myself, and my three other friends who are also here because of his sacrifice. It is in their honor that we announce our continued partnership with the United States in building the first-ever International Space Station. Like close friendship I had with Michael Owen, United States and Soviet Union look forward to a long-lasting friendship brought together for the advancement of science and the hope we can make this world better place. It is also my special honor to announce tonight a new building built here in Star City that will serve as a joint Soviet and American research facility where together we will find new ways to explore the cosmos. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present, the Owen Yelstov Center.”

The lights dimmed and moving images appeared on a screen behind him. Film and video footage of Michael and the crews were edited together to showcase a memorial video dedicated to the three who died during the mission. After, the subject of the video shifted to show renderings of the new building that will be constructed in Star City. Everyone in the banquet hall applauded for about a minute, preventing Mitri from continuing. Eventually the excitement settled and he was able to continue. After another ten minutes, he finished and welcomed Dr. Roth to the podium to speak on behalf of the United States. The few members of the American press that were allowed entry into the USSR recorded the event. A short time later, the banquet began.

“Mitri, that was a fine speech,” Eugene said as he welcomed Mitri to the table. Each of the four sat at different tables intermixed with other key players from both countries.

“Thank you Doctor; I am happy to see you again,” he said with conviction. Eugene seized the opportunity.

“I am happy to be here. I know our last moment together, I said some terrible things to you. Please forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive; we were all in bad situation. It could happen to the best of us,” he said as he held his drink out to salute Shephard. The two clanged their glasses and swallowed their drink. Mitri got up and patted him on the shoulder, “Excuse me, I have a few visits to make.” He made his way over to the next table.

“My favorite Doctor,” he said to McCormack as she sat at the table examining her matryoshka doll that she and the other Deliverance crew were given as gifts. Unlike the traditional Russian peasant woman painted on the rounded cylindrical shape, a white space suit was painted along with a strong resemblance of her face. “I see you like your doll. Matryoshka is iconic part of Russian Culture, you familiar with them?" Mitri asked.

"A little. Aren't there supposed to be smaller dolls inside?"

"Very good. Yes, they are metaphor of the life or lives we carry inside. Peel layer away, we have other part of who we are inside. Some of us are very complex and have different shades of our personality." Megan removed the top, revealing the next doll. Again, her face was painted with great detail on the inner doll. She removed it to see her likeness now wearing her orange suit worn during liftoff and landing. She pried further, finding her again in her jumpsuit, then finally as her dressed as a doctor.

"You got all the layers of me, that you know. Thank you Mitri, this is very special. What a thoughtful gift."

"You’re welcome. Something Alena thought of and had made. I am glad to see you again and look forward to working with you again. It is good news you won't let bad apple get in the way of what you enjoy."

"Yes. It took me a few months of thinking about it to finally snap out of my depression. I had a lot to keep me occupied, but deep down I was hurting. I finally realized he wasn't worth it, wasn't worth throwing it all away. There are so many people who admire me, and it would be a shame to let them all down over an ex."

"Yes, well, karma has a tendency to bite back those who deserve it."

"I don't need anything bad to happen to him, he is a distant memory. He made his decision and I am glad I found out now, rather than after we got married. Anyway, to change the subject, I enjoyed what you had to say about Michael. You are right; he cared about you very much. I know he wishes he could be here tonight."

"He is here," Mitri said. Megan was taken aback for a quick second before she came to her senses that he was referring to his spirit.

'If you only knew,' Megan thought to herself. Mitri leaned in and whispered into her ear.

"Do you think that was him, returning for the dead briefly to finish what he started?"

"Mitri, let's talk about this later, perhaps someplace a little quiet," she said worried about the others roaming around the tables before dinner was served.

"You are right. I would like to hear what you have to say about it. You three are lucky; you have each other to talk about it with, but I am alone and have had to keep it buried. It eats me alive as to what really happened up there." He stood up and prepared to move on. "Later tonight then, maybe we all go out, just the four of us."

"I would like that," Megan said as he walked off.

---Nikolai Mitri---

"Are you ready, Anzhela? This is your chance to meet him. You will have only a moment with him, so be quick," Vladimir said to me as I watched Mitri leave the crowd. He moved towards an empty lounge area outside the main hall. Several KGB, some in plain clothes, others in uniform, followed him, keeping an eye on Russia's national treasure, yet keeping their distance to give him space. He was relatively alone in a corridor finely decorated in red carpet. The walls were made of finely carved wood panels breaking up the expensive red and gold wall paper. Mitri stood and reached into his suit pocket; producing a silver case. I watched from the shadow, Vladimir at my side as Mitri opened the case and withdrew a cigarette. One of the guards saw his action, and swiftly approached with a gold Zippo. He held the flame up as Mitri lit his cigarette.

“Spasibo,” Mitri said, thanking the guard for his hospitality. A hand tapped my shoulder and I knew my time to see my friend had finally arrived. The months of infiltrating the KGB in order to have a brief audience with him was about to pay off. I stepped out of the shadow and walked down the corridor towards Mitri. The guards were confident Mitri was safe and watched the traffic on the floor of the banquet. On the far end of the hallway, a guard was walking away from Mitri and I making sure the area was clear and the guests were safe. Mitri exhaled the rich unfiltered smoke, blowing it into a smoke ring when his eyes caught my sudden appearance. At first he was pleased to feast his eyes on me, even though I was hiding most of my natural beauty, but I could tell he was growing increasingly nervous as I approached. He looked around for the KGB guards, finding they had their attention directed elsewhere. Instead of alerting them, he chose to wait, uncertain I was any threat and allowed me to get closer to him.

“Hello Mitri, I am glad to see you,” I said to him in Russian. He was a little startled, but the gentleman he was, greeted me back.

“Hello. Is there something I can do for you, or did you just want to meet me?”

“I am a friend of–” Before I could finish, a command was shouted in Russian and all the guards converged on Mitri and I. The banquet suddenly grew quiet as the KGB put the US Secret Service to shame, rushing Mitri out of harm’s way, while a group tackled me to the ground. At first I resisted, but quickly gave in to avoid being discovered. With great speed, they had me on the ground and were handcuffing my hands behind my back. Several AK-47s were pointed at my head, while a KGB officer patted me down.

“She came out of nowhere and approached Mitri.”

“Very good work,” he said as he held a photo in front of my face, comparing the two. “Very good work indeed; this is her. Take her to the suite and don’t let her out of your sight. I will be right there.”

“Yes, Comrade Major,” one of his subordinates said as the others picked me up and got me to my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd of American and Russian guests watching the commotion as they led me out of the room.

---

“We have her in custody. I will see to her interrogation personally. Very fine intelligence work, Comrade Captain. Whoever she is, and whatever her plans were, I will get it out of her. Carry on with security and inform me if anything happens.”

“Yes, Comrade Major; it will be done.” The Major turned and left. Captain Kutuzov watched as he disappeared before picking up his radio.

“Woman in custody, situation clear,” he said broadcasting to the rest of the team. It was not an instruction as any listener over the radio would think, but a report that the operation that was about to commence had a green light to proceed as planned.

---

“What was all the commotion about?” Collins said to Dr. Roth and McCormack. Dr. Roth was completely in the dark, but Megan was slightly worried and kept it to herself. She knew there wasn’t anything to be truly afraid of, but it was clearly Karen who had just been arrested.

“Who was that that they took away? She doesn’t look familiar.” Dr. Roth asked.

“Not sure; I only caught a glimpse of her,” Collins said. “Maybe she was some super spy named Natasha, or some cliché Russian spy name?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Roth said expecting more out of his top pilot. “Have you seen her before, Megan?”

“Um, no, never,” she said quickly. The room was rapidly calming down and people were returning to their tables. The few remaining KGB patrolled the room on a higher alert.

“I don’t like this,” Eugene said as he joined the group. “Something is not right. I saw them rush Mitri out of here, all because of some woman approaching him.”

“Relax, Doctor; that is standard protocol. We do the same for our President. To the people of this country, Mitri is an icon, and they will stop at nothing to keep him safe,” Dr. Roth said with his superior knowledge of the Russian political system. “As soon as everything is clear, he will be brought back down.”

“Still, there was something strange happening about ten minutes ago. I saw that woman standing in the dark with that man over there, the one with the leather jacket. They were talking and he nudged her towards Mitri.” Megan started to wonder just what Michael had gotten himself involved in.

---

Vladimir opened the door to the loading dock leading into the kitchen. About a dozen armed men wearing normal street clothes entered the empty kitchen and began setting up equipment on the prep tables.

“Comrade, we are ready. What is your order?”

“Men, a revolution has begun in this country, one that will forever change the Soviet Union, toppling the Party and bringing new freedom to the people. Many have worked hard to bring this change and restructuring to our government. Tonight, all of you will put an end to that, restoring order and reuniting the states. When this is over and the General Secretary is removed, you will all receive a political pardon, and be allowed to join as members of the Party.” He motioned for one of his men who began pouring small cups of vodka. Each of the men grabbed a cup as Vladimir held his up. “To the revolution, to end the revolution.” The men cheered and took their shot in unison.

---

The dinner phase of the reception was in full swing and everyone was enjoying their conversing over their meals.

“Tell me, Doctor, did you enjoy the tour of our facilities?” Beregovoi, head of the Yuri Gagarin Cosmonaut Training Center, asked of Dr. Shephard. They had spent several days in Moscow posing for the Soviet propaganda machine before the crew of the Deliverance and NASA’s chief engineers led by Dr. Roth left for Zvezdny Gorodok, which was known to the Americans as Star City. The city, which is located several meters away from the Tsiolkovskaya railroad station in the upper-northeast part of Moscow, was the Russian Equivalent of NASA’s Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center. Originally created as a secret facility to train pilots of the Soviet Air Force, the facility would become the official training center for cosmonauts and house their Mission Control facilities. Very few outsiders knew what lay beyond the gates. The few who did make it on the inside as workers came out to report lavish lifestyles lived by the cosmonauts. Fancy apartments and shopping centers were scattered amongst the training compounds.

“I am very impressed with your facilities–” he started to say as the sound of automatic gunfire ripped through the hall. Instinctively, everyone dove for cover as a group of well-armed men burst into the banquet hall. Several guards tried to quell the intruders, but were quickly taken out by the gunmen. Eugene scanned the room and found Megan scurrying under a table.

“Everyone, listen to me,” the man in the dark leather jacket yelled as the last of the KGB guard’s lifeless bodies hit the ground, “we are in control of this room, and you will do as we say, or we will kill you. Now, everyone slowly get to your knees and put your hands on your head.” After a few more gunshots, whimpering guests slowly submitted to the authority of their new captors and complied with their commands. Eugene got to his knees and put his hands up while watching, hoping Megan would remain hidden under the tablecloth.

---

My situation was ridiculous. I was handcuffed and sat in an old solid oak chair in a fancy suite. There were two guards standing at my side holding assault rifles, while a KGB officer stood before me interrogating me. They employed their typical routine of instilling fear into their captives, but it was useless; they had no power over me. At any time, I could get up and walk out that door. The entire Soviet military couldn't do anything to prevent my flight from the grasp of the KGB.

"Anzhela, yes? Pretty face in the picture, but you look a little different," he said as he took my glasses and wig off. Kaaren's long golden locks of wavy blond hair were freed from the bonds the wig kept them in, allowing the thick hair to fall around my shoulders. "Very pretty indeed. What is your real name?" I didn't answer.

"I am Major Sergei Mitri. I am in charge of security here. Intelligence said a woman fitting your description would make an attempt on my brother's life, and I see I was well-informed. Now, we can make things easy on you. You tell me who your conspirators are, what they want with Nikolai, and you go away to some place where you live a short, comfortable prison term. If you wish not to cooperate, you will be sent to very, very bad place. It is hell on earth, and much worse for women. It is very cold, little food, and very hard work. You will wish for death within a week." I sat unafraid of his useless threats. No prison could hold me captive, but I also knew the Gulag, as he was referring to, was being dismantled by Gorbachev's attempt to reduce the fear and oppression the government had over its people.

While the Soviet Union officially dissolved the network of corrective labor camps back in 1960, it was well known to us pilots flying over Soviet airspace that, unofficially, grueling hard labor camps continued to operate and served as a place to send political prisoners and criminals. While in the Air Force, I had the pleasure to meet Fredrick Powers a couple years before his death. Powers, a U-2 pilot, was shot down over Soviet airspace in 1960 and was convicted by the Soviets of espionage. He was sentenced to ten years in prison and served nearly two hard years in a camp before being exchanged for a Soviet KGB Colonel caught spying in the US. He emerged from the camp a broken and frail man where he would spend many years overcoming the experience of living in the world’s most feared prison. After having been cleared by the CIA of any wrongdoing, he returned to train other pilots venturing into the hostile Soviet airspace. Now flying the Mach 3+ SR-71, I had little fear of Soviet SAM batteries, but nevertheless, his first-hand intel on the camps made me listen to everything he said. He regretted not taking the easy way out and injecting himself with a shellfish-derived saxitoxin hidden in a fake silver dollar.

“I was a tough man, but they break you down in a matter of days,” Powers said recounting his stay in the camps, “within weeks, your humanity is sucked out of you. I spent two years contemplating suicide rather than continue in the prison. I was lucky, and didn’t have to endure the full ten years of my sentence, but you may not be so lucky. What you think can’t happen in that fancy technological marvel you are flying, will. You will wake up one day and beg for death. A quick painless death, can save you from all that. If you think you are tough, you are not.” I never thought up until that day, I had anything to fear, but with Powers’ training, every mission from that point forward I hoped for the best, but prepared for the worst.

“So, you will not talk, I see,” the Major said as he smacked me across the cheek with his gloves, starting with minor to begin my interrogation. I quickly turned my head in sync with the impact to give the appearance his assault had accomplished what he intended. “I have much experience with using pain to get what I want. You should think twice about keeping quiet.”

“I do not work with anyone; I simply wanted to meet Nikolai Mitri. I don’t know why you think I work with anyone and certainly don’t know anything about an attempt on his life,” I said, earning me another slap across the face.

“You lie–you are working with the someone to either capture or kill Mitri. I have photos of you lurking around with this man.” He held up a photo of me talking with Vladimir the other day near the river. “Who is this man? Is he your contact?”

“His name is Vladimir, he is KGB, and arranged for me to meet your brother. I am nothing but a fan of his.”

“This man is not KGB, and you are still lying to me. You are trying my patience.” He motioned for his men standing over me. Without a word being spoken, they executed their standard operating procedure. One aimed his rifle at me while the other uncuffed me. He attached one cuff to the arm of the chair and produced as second pair, cuffing my left hand to the other arm rest. The Major produced a welding torch as the guards held my hands down. Mitri’s brother seemed shocked that I showed no fear, or emotion. I didn’t beg, by heart rate didn’t escalate, and I didn’t struggle. I just sat there.

“See, you are a spy, trained to withstand torture. I know your kind well. Not many women, but they all seem tough at first. I will break you; you will talk.”

‘In about ten seconds, the cat will be out of the bag,’ I thought. One way or another, I was about to be found out. I could sit here and do nothing as the torch failed to cause painful damage, or I could use my power to leave against their will.

‘Ok, Michael, what are you going to do? There are three people in the room. Overpower them and jump out the window and fly away. What am I sticking around for?’ The torch grew closer and I was about to leave when a faint sound of automatic fire sounded. The muffled sound penetrated the walls of the State building and the Major heard it. I quickly tuned my hearing and listened. People were screaming as the gun fire continued. A guard burst through the door.

“Comrade Major, there is gunfire coming from below.”

“Stupid, I can here that myself. Send a group downstairs to investigate and have my brother brought here. Increase security of this room.” The guard saluted and was off to fulfill his duties, “What is happening? What have you done?” he said to me.

---

Eugene was trembling with fear as he continued to watch the table. He could hear Megan whispering.

“Please help, if you can hear me, I need you. Please hear me.”

‘Great, she was under the table praying,’ Shephard thought to himself. There was a time he would have despised that kind of thought, but for this small group, somehow those prayers seemed to work, and led him to conclude there was something greater out there. Eugene looked around and saw the men were checking the tables.

“Get out, get the fuck out,” one of them yelled at someone who had the same bright idea as Megan. He fired a single round into the air causing the man to quickly scurry out and take position with the others. He was one of the engineers NASA had on our design team. The Russian hit him on the back of his head with the butt of his AK-47 and the he collapsed on the floor.

“Megan, listen to me,” Shephard said, “Megan I know you are scared, but they are searching the tables and they are not being nice about it.”

“I can’t,” a faint whisper came back, “I’m scared.”

“We are all scared, but they will hurt you if they find you. Please come out; I will keep you safe.” She continued her rant, praying, begging for someone to help her. Another one of the Russians kicked over another table, growing tired of bending over. He turned and stood before Megan’s table.

“I hear you crying–come out immediately or I shoot.” Eugene knelt a couple feet away and watched as the large man shifted his sub machine gun and trained it on the table. “I said come out.” She was terrified, completely paralyzed and unable to move. Fear was overcoming him again, but this time, he was fighting to control it. His heart raced as his mind tried muster up the courage to defend Megan.

“Very well,” he said as he aimed. Before he could pull the trigger, Eugene leapt to his feet and rushed the gunman, pushing the weapon out of the way as he fired. The round missed the table, impacting the chair to the left. Eugene struggled with the weapon, but the man was too strong. With little effort, he threw Eugene towards the ground and with out thinking fired a round hitting him dead center in he abdomen. Eugene hit the ground, his legs having given out underneath him. He clutched his abdomen and saw the blood all over his hand.

“Oh shit,” he said in a worrisome voice.

“Stupid American hero,” he said as he kicked the table over exposing Megan, who was screaming upon seeing Eugene on the ground covered in blood. She turned to stare down the barrel of the man’s rifle.

“MICHAEL, OH GOD, MICHAEL, HELP!” She screamed at the top of her lungs as a shot echoed through the room.

To Be Continued....Episode 12 “Motherland Part II”

Join my mailing list for announcements or send feedback, questions, editorial mistakes or comments to: [email protected]

Like "Angel" on facebook and receive exclusive updates and sneak peaks before episodes are released. facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Angel/507706609254340