Chandler entered the library where she waited, trying to read; Lucky had decided not to disturb his meditations. She had done it often enough in the past. "Yeah?"
    She jumped. "How come I can't tell you're coming?"
    He smiled.
    "So... I still get angry and I still have emotions, but they're not out of control." It was half a question.
    "Pretty much."
    "Just checking that nothing went wrong."
    "Why, what happened? You got really upset about something, vented a whole lot of anger and left. Something to do with facts and figures?"
    "There was a census-taker at the place where they all are, and I just didn't trust him. I mean, when random people show up and start asking questions in the middle of a crisis, it's standard operating procedure to make them go away, and... everyone there just wants to be so nice," she spat the word out. "It's like they look through me, they don't pay any attention to the fact that I might know something. I just feel useless, worthless, really fucked up."
    "You didn't fuck anything up."
    She sighed. "I left because I didn't want to make a bigger ass out of myself."
    "Understandable move."
    "I just want to be calm," she implored. "I want to be like I am when I'm with you. Like when I'm..."
    "Census takers never come here," he pointed out with a smile, and she laughed, but quickly grew serious again.
    "Everything seems so controlled here."
    He looked suddenly concerned. "Wait, where is everyone else?"
    "They're at Dr. Scott's old apartment."
    "So who were they asking questions?"
    "Scott."
    He burst out laughing. "He must have blown the curve!"
    She smiled a little, then sighed. "I just wondered... for some stupid reason I thought I'd be this lamp of..."
    "Calm and control? No, I don't think you're ever going to reach serene." He regained his aplomb.
    "Not even after really good sex?"
    "I wouldn't know."
    She shrugged a little. "Sorry I bothered you."
    "You're not bothering me."
    "I was thinking at you. I'm just going to walk myself up to my room and sleep."
    "Don't sleep. Don't lose focus."
    "What am I supposed to focus on? Can you give me something to do? I'm going stir crazy here."
    "You want me to give you a task?"
    She nodded earnestly. "Alphabetize your books, I don't care."
    He shook his head. "They shouldn't be alphabetized, they get very upset about that. The more important volumes think they should be up toward the top, because they get a better view, and they get angry if they're put toward the bottom."
    It was hard to tell if he was kidding. "I'm starting to wish Yasmina would come and ask me for a favor so I could get out of here."
    "Don't wish that," was his serious response. "I'm sure something will come up."
    Restlessness pushed her out of her chair, and she headed for the kitchen. "You want anything? Tea, sandwich, milk and cookies?"
    "Sure, that sounds great."
    When she got back five candles had been placed on the table in a not-quite-pentagram. One was taller than the others, very thin, with an intense flame. Another was shorter and oddly silvery. One broad one gave out what was almost a gout of flame rather than a normal flare. A smaller one, carved, with a low but intense flame, and black one with white streaks. The last flame flickered continuously.
    "What is that?"
    "It's you guys. I'm keeping watch."
    "Am I the flickering one? Why am I flickering?"
    "Because you're tied to me already, that makes it more complicated."
    "So if one of the flames goes out...?"
    "We know that there's a problem."
    "They're going to come after us, aren't they." She said it quietly but without any uncertainty.
    "I don't know. But this is all I can do at the moment."
    "Thanks."

    Hans returned to his parents' house, packed up his few belongings. No word from his parents, still. He waited there, sitting in a chair in the otherwise empty room.
    The door opened. It was his brother and father.
    "Oh, hi," Mitch said casually.
    "Father, do you know where my mother is?"
    "No, I don't. What... is something wrong, are we going to have to move again?" He closed the door.
    Promethean looked at Mitch. "I want to see you outside."
    "What? What is it? Why can't we talk in front of Dad? How long are we planning on keeping this...?"
    "Keeping what?" his father asked.
    "We're leaving," Hans said firmly. "You're staying here."
    "Who's staying where?" Mitch asked uncertainly.
    "You're staying. With your new hosts." Something was wrong, Hans realized. That was not his father. He should not be home from work yet. His plasma shield exploded to life, too late, but he saw it coming in time to roll with the blow.
    "What are you talking about?" his father asked, while his hand reached out, elongated and became a claw which slashed down toward his "son's" chest.

    A candle went out.
    "Hans."
    "Where is he? I don't even know where he lives!"
    "You do now."
    She was on the bike before she could finish dialing Needle's number.

    Mitch's shield flared to life as he snarled a curse. Hans had difficulty seeing him as a threat; this was still his little brother. He directed his plasma blast against Kymrik instead, hit him square only to see the shapeshifter's fluid body move with the force of the blow, unharmed. A chunk of the wall disappeared.
    The face remained his father's, but an extra set of bladed limbs had extended, slashing out at him. Promethean dropped into a crouch, evading the claws.
    "Get out of the way, I'll take care of him," Mitch barked, a vicious glint in his eye. The blast was fierce enough to knock Promethean back out through the window and into the street; he barely controlled his path to avoid hitting the street. It was clear that Mitch was stronger than he was. Less controlled, but this was not good at all.
    Enraged by this betrayal, Hans nevertheless kept sight of Kymrk as the main threat and drove another attack at the shapeshifter, with no better success than he had the first time. He caught a glimpse of a surprised expression, almost a double-take, as his opponent looked down the street. Then Mitch followed him out onto the street, flew up past him and lashed out with a fist as he passed. Proper boxing form, Hans noted absently, blocking the punch.
    Kymrik pulled himself back into the building as if he had seen something which bothered him, and yelled, "Get up! Get out of here!"
    Hans glanced back to see what it could have been, saw a van pulling up in front of the house. Doors opened to reveal a tripod-mounted machine gun and two men with rocket launchers. What the hell? They were aiming at either him or his brother, it was hard to tell which. Hard to tell them apart when both were encased in plasma.
    Hans dove back in through the hole his exit had created, blasted at Kymrik again. He kept sliding out of the way of the plasma as if it were harmless as water.
    "Do you really want me to kill you?" the shapeshifter snarled. "Is that how you want this to go?"
    "Preferably, I would like to kill you. I think we can arrange it."
    "You little fool, killing me is not an option."
    "I beg to differ."
    "Okay, fire!" came from outside. The rocket launcher went off.
    "Are those friends of yours?" Hans inquired.
    "No!"
    Machine gun fire. The rocket exploded, but not as if it had hit something.
    An incoherent scream of rage and frustration, sliding between English and German as Mitch cursed. "I'm gonna kill every last fucking one of you!"
    There came a vast wave of plasma outside, he could feel the magnetic forces moving through his own powers, and then a loud explosion. Kymrik's tentacle wrapped between his legs, around his body, trapping an arm, and around his head, blades extending toward his eyes. He ducked enough that the blow missed him, still trapped in the shapeshifter's coils. A scorpion's tail, dripping something which might be venom, formed out of another limb. Hans unleashed a wave of plasma and burned through the coil, almost shattering it. Pieces slid back together; Kyrmik flew backward and hit the wall. Small cracks ran through the plaster.
    "You still moving?!" Another massive explosion outside.

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