Notes:

This has been sitting in my files since the 2010s. Many, many thanks to Sineater for the writer’s block busting and beta-reading to polish this up.

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Tall birch trees flashed past the car in even ranks, their pale boles starkly outlined in the bright beams of the Spectrum Saloon Car. Scarlet tried his best to not be mesmerised by the endless rumble of wheels on the road and the tunnel of mist and trees but at this late hour and after such a long day even he found his attention starting to wander.

It was funny really, if need be on a mission he could go roughly three days with snatches of sleep without too much trouble, but one day at a secret global security conference in rural Manitoba, Canada, with a room full of politicians and paper pushers and he could barely keep his eyes open. “Different kinds of energy required, perhaps?” Scarlet pondered the question silently. “The comms trouble didn’t help one bit, all three of us were on edge the entire time. That has to have been burning the proverbial candle at both ends. Of all the times to have a burst of solar flares, why did it have to be now?”

He glanced at his partner, assessing Blue’s condition as the Boston-born captain guided the car down the narrow, twisting road carved deep into the rumpled landscape. “He seems fine to drive for now, but I’ll suggest we switch soon,” he mused. Scarlet turned to check on their passenger in the back seat and smiled. Rhapsody was slumped against the door under her fleece-lined coat, half curled up and fast asleep.

He turned back to mention it to Blue when something thumped and squealed under the bonnet, three red warning lights flickered into life on the dashboard and the engine started to voice a low-frequency grumble that didn’t sound at all healthy. “What...?” Blue frowned, pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and killed the engine.

“What is it?” Scarlet asked, keeping his voice low and glancing back at Rhapsody. She hadn’t stirred. Good. She had led a spirited and intense hours-long round table debate with several intelligence agency representatives and it had taken a lot out of the Angel. She both needed and deserved a rest before the flight back to Cloudbase.

“I’m not sure. Something went under the hood and the warning lights turned on.” Adam unbelted himself and leaned over to grope for the release lever under the dashboard. “We’d better take a look. Maybe we can fix it and limp on to the next vehicle station, a tow or helicopter will take hours to reach us out here,” he said as he cracked the door open, “not to mention the solar flares, we might not be able to call for help in the first place.”

“Agreed,” Paul nodded and followed his partner out of the car.

The early autumn night air was chilly and damp, the red alloy shell of the Saloon Car ticking as it cooled. The entire area was washed in the pale light of the full moon but scudding clouds made that light fickle. Paul fished the tool kit out of the boot while Adam felt under the bonnet for the secondary release catch. He suddenly hissed a curse and yanked his hand back, shaking it in an automatic attempt to soothe the pain.

“Are you all right?” Paul set the toolkit down and took a small torch from his tunic pocket, playing the narrow beam over the hand that Adam offered for inspection. A ragged cut oozed blood on his index finger and Blue quickly wiped it off on a handkerchief.

“I must have caught it on something.” Adam frowned and inspected his hand, satisfied that it wasn’t going to start bleeding again. “Hold that light a little lower,” he instructed, turning his focus back to the car and the elusive catch. “I’ve almost got it.”

Scarlet obliged... then held himself very still as something caught his attention. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye, but whatever it was had the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. He’d learned a long time ago to listen to the voice of instinct and right now it was screaming at him. “Captain Blue,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, “I think we’re going to need the red box.”

“The red box?” Blue repeated, right hand dropping from fussing with the car to hang near the gun on his belt. He cautiously lifted his gaze from the vehicle in front of him and his ears pricked up, listening for the sounds that were out of place in their surroundings. “Thank you Ochre for suggesting a quiet alert code like this, perfectly innocent to others but clear as hell to us.” They’d learned it from him at Koala and it was something used just between them, a police code for ‘I have spotted danger and we need to get out’ and they couldn’t speak freely.

“Yes.” Scarlet straightened and pointed the torch down to try to save what was left of his night vision, his other hand resting close to his weapon as he subtly scanned the trees.

Inside the car Rhapsody shifted and groggily blinked, roused by the lack of movement and engine noises. “Hn...?” She scrubbed the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes, glanced out the window and screamed.

Both men whipped around at the sound, hands dipping to their guns as something, no, two somethings, burst out from the darkness behind the SSC. Scarlet barely had time to register big, hairy, and teeth before one was upon him, jaws latching onto the arm he’d thrown up to protect his face and knocking him to the ground, his gun flying from his other hand. Blue managed to snap off one wild shot at the thing savaging his partner before he had to divert his attention to the second one as it leaped onto the car roof and launched itself at him, forcing him to hurl himself aside or be caught by the beast.

Blue ducked his shoulder and threw himself into a roll as it hurtled over his head, feeling the first of this season’s leaves crunch under him as he came to his feet in the roadside ditch, his gun lost somewhere in the accumulated detritus. The... thing... growled low as it moved with an odd, almost limping gait, its back hunched. A break in the clouds above allowed a shaft of moonlight to filter through the trees, weakly illuminating the scene. The creature circled slowly around, moving between Blue and the car.

Somewhere behind it Scarlet bellowed in pain but Blue forced himself to ignore the cry and reach for the knife concealed in his boot, all attention focused on the thing before him. Light glinted off teeth as it straightened up to stand on misshapen hind legs and let loose a rough, animalistic chuckle.

“Hey!”

They both looked over at the sudden shout to see Rhapsody standing with one foot in the car and the other foot braced on the earthen bank, the open door a barrier between her and them. She had her gun in one hand and a stick-like object in the other. “Sod off!” She slammed the flare against the roof of the car and red fire and smoke burst out of the top. In a perfect throw she snapped her arm down and sent the flare spinning through the air to strike the back of the creature stalking Adam. It yelped in pain and leapt away into the trees, the awful stink of burnt hair hanging in the air behind it. The second one left off savaging Scarlet and followed the first beast, its baying fading into the distance as it ran.

“Are you both all right?” Rhapsody hurried around the car to check on her companions, tucking an extra flare into her belt just in case.

“... Owww...” Illuminated by the hellish glow of the flare, Scarlet let out a pained groan and somehow managed to get to his feet, clutching his savaged left forearm. Long slashes marked his sides and belly where the thing had clawed at him, but thankfully the tough composite material of the vest had kept his torso intact. “Not.. really...” he grimaced, teeth clenched against the pain lancing up from his left arm.

“Scarlet, sit down!” Rhapsody took his good arm and guided him back down to the road surface before he could fall down, helping him lean against the bumper of the car.

Blue retrieved their fallen guns, fetched the first aid kit and handed Scarlet’s dropped torch to Rhapsody. “Hold that for me,” he instructed, then knelt beside Scarlet and gently inspected the wound, glimpsing the white of broken bone in amongst the red of blood and tissue. Thankfully it was only oozing blood- the damage, while severe, hadn’t torn open any major blood vessels. “It sure did a number on you, pal.” Blue winced at the sight and quickly sliced away the remains of the sleeve, pulling the tattered mess free and discarding it.

“No... ah... kidding!” Scarlet grunted, wincing.

“Blue, gloves,” Rhapsody chided him, stepping around the two men to angle the torch for better light and repressing a shiver of revulsion before turning her attention back to the treeline in case their visitors returned.

“A little late for that. Don’t worry, the iodine will get anything the flushing misses,” Adam replied absently, rummaging around in the kit. He came up with a long plastic case and snapped it open to reveal a preloaded syringe. “Scarlet, I’m going to give you some morphine and then clean that wound,” he explained. “It won’t work for long but it should be enough to get this tidied up.”

“Do it.” Scarlet grimaced, looking away from the gory wound.

Working quickly, Blue pulled up Scarlet’s right sleeve, applied the tourniquet to Scarlet’s arm and prodded the back of his hand until he found a vein. It took two or three tries for him to stick it with the needle, but once he did he emptied the entire syringe into Scarlet’s system, following up with a second syringe of saline to flush it through. The relief was almost immediate as Scarlet made himself relax and not fight the drug, blue eyes drifting half shut as the opiates surged into him.

“We’ve got twenty minutes at best so we have to be quick,” Blue instructed, laying out his next selection of equipment. “Rhapsody, open two of the large dressings, wet them with saline and find me a splint and a sling, I think that thing cracked a bone.”

“S.I.G.” Rhapsody held the torch between her teeth and quickly did as instructed while Adam concentrated on flushing the wound itself, snipping the feeder tube off the end of an IV bag of saline and using it like a hose to wash out the bloody gashes. When that was completed to the best of his ability, he bathed it with iodine and the dressings were bound around Scarlet’s arm. Finally he cradled the wounded arm in a splint and sling and sat back on his haunches, washing the blood off his hands with the last of the saline and following up with a good dose of hand sanitiser. “That’s the best I can do here,” Blue announced as he packed up the kit, then as an afterthought wrapped a plaster around the cut on his finger. “You’ll need to get Fawn to look at that and make sure it heals properly.”

“Nng... okay...” Scarlet grunted and tried to get to his feet, his good hand flailing awkwardly as he tried to get a grip on something to help him up.

“Scarlet! Where do you think you’re going?” Rhapsody demanded, easily pushing the groggy captain back down to the ground.

Paul blinked owlishly at her, blue eyes fever bright and pupils reduced to tiny black points. “Cloudbase,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “’s that way.” He pointed up, slurring slightly.

Adam smothered a chuckle at Dianne’s bewildered expression and fetched their backpacks from the SSC – his blue, Scarlet’s red and Rhapsody’s white with her codename neatly printed down one side.

Meanwhile, the Angel was vainly trying to keep a very determined Captain from getting up again. “No! Scarlet, stay there! You can’t walk to Cloudbase!” She pushed down on his shoulder again and briefly considered just sitting on his lap to make him stay.

“But ’ve got to go to Fawn! He’s at Cloudbase!” Scarlet protested petulantly. He left off his struggles long enough to point down the road with his good arm. “I go that way, then I’ll find someone to take me up,” he insisted with the logic that only someone on heavy pain medication can manage.

“Scarlet, the only thing that way is the Sands Lake Provincial Park, remember?” Dianne patiently explained. “We had to go around that to get to the depot at Melvin Lake and take the helicopter to Cloudbase in the morning.”

“So what way ’s it to Melvin Lake?” Paul doggedly asked, trying to shrug off the slim hand planted very firmly on his shoulder.

This time Adam did chuckle as he fished Rhapsody’s coat out of the car and offered it to her. “Don’t bother trying to reason with him, just give him very clear instructions,” he advised.

“Been through this before?” Dianne asked wryly, letting go of Paul just long enough to put on her fleece-lined coat.

“Several times. It’ll stop as soon as the morphine wears off,” Adam explained, a faint smile of reassurance on his face, then turned to Paul. “Scarlet, we have to stay here until Cloudbase sends someone to come and get us,” he explained patiently as he pulled Scarlet’s red coat out of his backpack and draped it over him. “It might take a while, they won’t miss us until the morning and comms are blacked out here, remember the solar flares?”

“Oh.” Paul frowned, then looked at Dianne with owl-eyed curiosity. “Why d’n’t you say that b’fore?”

“I would have had a chance to if you hadn’t been trying to run away,” Dianne shot back, a little testy. She looked at Adam. “How long...”

The echoes of a faint, bestial cry ringing through the dead calm air made all three Spectrum officers fall silent, straining their ears to get some clue to the thing’s location.

“Either there are more of them out there...” Rhapsody started, glancing at the two men and then at the forest around them, suddenly aware of how they stood clearly silhouetted against the fading light of the flare.

“... Or those two are coming back to finish the job,” Blue finished grimly. “We can’t stay here. The car’s too exposed, there’s no landing area and anyone coming to pick us up will get ambushed by those things. We need to go.”

“But Scarlet can’t run, not in this condition!” Rhapsody protested, but obediently stuffed Scarlet’s coat and RadioCap into his bag, slung it on her back and quickly looked around for a path through the trees and underbrush.

“I’ll carry him. Bring the bags, we might end up sleeping rough tonight. Try to call Cloudbase as we go, Green did say there would be gaps in the interference and we might get a signal along the way,” Blue ordered and stepped over to his partner, taking his good arm. “Come on Scarlet, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

Scarlet nodded and with a grunt and Blue’s help he got to his feet. A practised duck and pull from the Boston-born officer had Scarlet onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and the trio quickly vanished into the trees.

The woods weren’t thick enough to make their path impossible and the game trails helped, but the thin branches and scrubby bushes didn’t make the passage easy, especially not for Adam with Paul’s long frame slung over his shoulders. For his part, Scarlet tried to keep his legs tucked in far enough to stay out of the way but not so far as to throw Adam’s balance, but every now and again his boots caught on something half-hidden in the shadows and he did his best to not grunt in pain from the jolt.

Thankfully the morphine haze was fading, he’d be glad to get back on his feet. The tingling sensation in the base of his spine gave him cause for concern however, it looked like he couldn’t heal his arm while awake, his body was going to get more and more insistent that he go into the retrometabolic coma and there was only so long he could hold it off. The last thing they needed right now was an almost literal dead weight to slow them down while they were out in the open with those things.

Just ahead of the men, Rhapsody set the pace and picked the path, cursing under her breath as her communicator once again replied with a squeal of static and the handheld GPS screen stubbornly blinked ‘searching for satellite.’ They’d already tried Blue’s ‘Cap and emergency beacon with no success – the button beacon merely sat inert with no flash of active signal and it only had a short battery life so waiting for a potential signal was dicey.

She scanned the trees ahead, then abruptly held up her fist and dropped to one knee. Blue crouched and set Scarlet down, crawling to the Angel with gun in hand. “What is it?” he murmured, lisping the ‘s’ so the sharp sound wouldn’t carry.

“The trees are thinning and there’s lights up ahead,” she murmured back, also lisping. “I’ll check it out.” She put down the bags and started to rise.

“No.” Blue gently used her arm to pull her back down, “You’re wearing white, you’ll glow in the moonlight. I’ll go,” he said, turning to fish his binoculars out of his bag.

She glanced down at herself ruefully, nodded and slipped back through the trees to where an increasingly drowsy-looking Scarlet sat slumped against a young tree, his gun in his lap. She crouched beside him with the backpacks, service pistol in hand and scanning the trees.

Blue commando-crawled his way under a bush, very glad of the night vision mode of his binoculars as he peered over a gnarled root at a sprawling cluster of buildings in a large, flat clearing surrounded by more birch trees. The largest building appeared to be a house: single story and built in a log cabin-like style with overhanging eaves and a sharply pitched roof that might have had an attic, but the shadows were too deep to be certain either way. Warm light spilled from several windows- kitchen and dining at his best guess. Beside it stood a couple of sheds, a workshop or garage judging by the tractor half-parked inside and a little further away was a large barn-like structure. No animals roamed nearby, but any pens could easily be further away or behind the house. Power poles marched up the rutted dirt driveway and that was a positive sign: communication could be a viable option shortly.

Everything seemed still so he slithered into the open and ran at a crouch towards the buildings, flitting from shadow to shadow. No farm dogs barked at his arrival and he found a single carport beside the house, but this was vacant – recently so if the puddle of air-conditioner water on the concrete pad was any indication. Both sheds were padlocked shut so he left them alone, the workshop was mostly filled with car parts and when he got closer he found the barn was half-collapsed from neglect. It would probably only take a good sneeze for the rest of it to come down.

Outbuildings examined, he went to the house.

He slid his way along the log cladding and peered through the corner of a dark window – nothing but an empty bedroom. He went to the next – frosted, probably the bathroom – and the third spilled light out into the night. Blue turned his head just enough to get a look through the open curtains from the corner of his eye without showing his face to the occupants.

A homey enough setting lay inside. From what he could see there were two armchairs and two long, floral-patterned couches facing an empty fireplace, a large dining table and what seemed to be an open-plan design that led into the kitchen. At the next window he caught a glimpse of the occupant: an older woman in a red plaid flannel shirt and faded blue jeans, her greying hair pulled up into a bun as she scrubbed a single plate and bowl at the sink in a large kitchen, a kitchen island separating off the cooking area from the living area. He watched and listened at the window for several minutes longer until he was reasonably sure she was alone in the house.

Satisfied, Blue retraced his steps and murmured a soft ‘I’m back’ just before he came into view.

“Well?” Dianne asked. She threw a worried glance at Scarlet – he was unusually quiet, having trouble keeping his eyes open and his head up. Both officers knew what that meant: he needed to pass out to heal, but he didn’t want to risk it and he was losing the fight.

“Farmhouse of some kind, single occupant, old lady. It looks safe enough but be careful,” Blue reported back, turning to pick up Scarlet in the fireman’s carry again. This time he was almost completely limp and only offered a weak noise in protest when his arm bumped against Adam’s back.

“Finally something is going right,” Rhapsody breathed, picking up their bags and following Adam into the clearing. “I’ll knock. You two stay out of sight.”

“S.I.G.” Blue grunted under his burden, knowing Rhapsody could charm her way into almost anywhere should the occasion require it.

They found the front door easily, Blue and Scarlet standing off to the hinge side in the shadows and Rhapsody to the handle side, just out of direct line of sight in case greetings came with shotguns in this area of Canada. She put down the bags, rapped sharply on the coloured glass inserts of the door and waited, poised to spring if need be.

Footsteps sounded from inside and the door swung half open, the older lady peering out into the darkness. “Hello?” she asked, a damp dishtowel still in hand.

Dianne relaxed and stepped into view, a grateful smile on her face. “I’m so sorry to disturb you so late, ma’am, but we need help. I’m Rhapsody Angel of Spectrum, my colleagues Captains Blue and Scarlet and I were in a car accident and Scarlet is hurt, may we come in?”

“Oh! Yes, please, quickly!” She swung the door fully open and ushered them in, flapping the towel in the direction of the couches when she saw Scarlet slung over Blue’s shoulder. “Put him there, oh you poor dears. Can I get you anything?”

Rhapsody brought in the backpacks, saw the occupied shoe rack inside the doorway, took off her boots, then set down the bags, slipped her gun into hers, and went to assist her colleagues. “If we could borrow your ‘phone and rest up until our pick up arrives, that would be marvellous, thank you,” she replied, helping Scarlet get his boots and dirty vest off before he lay down, taking care to fold the vest inside out to hide the slashes in the red outer layer before their hostess could see them. He thanked her with a weak smile and sighed, allowing himself to slowly pass out on the couch as if dozing off to sleep.

“I’m sorry about all the fuss,” Blue apologised, then looked at the mud he’d tracked in and winced. “And about your carpet,” he quickly pulled off his boots and set them with Scarlet’s and Rhapsody’s. “Don’t worry, we’ll pay to get it cleaned.”

“Oh, that is nothing compared to what my grandsons have tracked in!” their hostess laughed. “If only you’d arrived sooner, they’ve taken the car and gone into town to watch a movie. They could have driven you to town instead.” She came a little closer and gasped at the bandages on Scarlet’s arm. “Is he all right?”

“He’ll be fine, he got a little banged up and we’ve dressed it for him,” Rhapsody lied smoothly. “Captain Scarlet is just sleepy from the painkillers we gave him. But we have been so rude, how may we call you?”

“My name is Angelique Tussod, but you may call me Grandmother, everyone else does.” Grandmother smiled at her. “Come now, your Captain Scarlet cannot be left to sleep on the couch!” She turned to Blue. “Young man, can you carry him a little further? There are plenty of spare beds for him to use.”

“If we can use your 'phone we won’t be here to clutter up your house for long, we just need to call for a pick up,” Blue demurred, stifling a yawn. He frowned a little as exhaustion suddenly swept over him like a wave.

“Ach, I wish it were otherwise but my ‘phone does not work.” Grandmother shook her head and pointed to a newspaper on the polished walnut dining table, the headline screaming ‘Solar Maximum! Once in a century event strikes!’. “Until the solar flares are over it is useless, we are so rural we never got the flare-proof fibre connections.”

“We’re sorry to be a bother...” Blue surprised himself with a jaw-cracking yawn and swayed on his feet a little.

“That settles it,” Angelique declared in a tone that brooked no opposition, hands on hips. “You all need a rest.”

“It’s all right Blue, you take a nap for a couple of hours and then I will,” Rhapsody encouraged, then turned to Angelique. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“No, no, it is all right. All that needs doing is the lights turning on,” she replied, and bustled off to do just that.

“Are you all right, Blue?” Rhapsody quietly queried as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Yeah, just so tired all of a sudden. Are you sure you’re okay to stay up for the first watch?” Blue crouched to scoop Scarlet up, carrying him bridal style. “I’m so glad Magenta isn’t here to see this,” he muttered to the unconscious Scarlet.

“Yes I am to the former, and amen to that to the latter. I have had it up to here with Pat’s ‘make an honest man out of him’ cracks,” Rhapsody quietly replied, rolling her eyes heavenward as she collected their things. “Should we try my emergency beacon?” she murmured.

“No, not yet. Mine’s still not registering but it still might punch through before the battery dies, Scarlet lost his in the fight and I want yours as a backup. He’ll heal and the worst case scenario is we’ll just need to wait for the interference to clear up,” was Blue’s quiet answer as he carried his partner in the direction of the bedrooms.

Rhapsody followed them down a hallway to the first spare bedroom as Angelique rattled off a description of this part of the house. Five doors led off the hall: four bedrooms, the third door was the bathroom, and a stairwell at the end led up to the converted attic that her grandsons used as their communal bedroom/lounge area. Rhapsody took careful note, she’d sweep the house at the first opportunity.

Meanwhile, Blue got Scarlet settled in bed, slipped Paul’s gun under his pillow and followed the merrily chattering Angelique to the second door, his room. He’d barely gotten his vest off and gun secured before his head started swimming and his gut churned with nausea, something that only happened to him when he was well and truly at the ragged edge of his limits, which he shouldn’t have been at already. Before he could even really question what was going on he had taken off his tunic, put his gun under the pillow, laid down on top of the covers and fallen deeply asleep.

Rhapsody meanwhile had taken up an offer of tea. While Angelique hurried off to boil the kettle, under the excuse of needing the facilities Rhapsody quickly snuck upstairs and found the boys’ messy but deserted loft. Three beds ranged against one wall while bookcases and cupboards partially blocked off an area with couches and a large entertainment unit. A quick inspection of the other rooms revealed what had to be Angelique’s bedroom and the spare room reserved for herself, then she visited the decently-appointed bathroom and made some show of flushing the ‘loo and loudly washing her hands to cover her activities.

Dianne did eye the bathtub with no small amount of envy before she left – it was a magnificent clawfoot slipper-bath affair large enough to accommodate a pony. The joys of a proper bath was one little luxury that she did miss from home. While Cloudbase did have a therapeutic hydrotherapy bath as part of the physio facilities it really wasn’t the same.

Coming out of the bathroom she found Angelique had not only made a pot of delightfully fragrant tea furnished with milk jug and sugar bowl, but laid out a plate of biscuits as well, all on the walnut coffee table before the empty fireplace.

“Come, sit, sit.” Angelique urged. “How do you like your tea?” she asked, pouring into a delicate, lavender-sprigged teacup.

“Just a dash of milk please.” Dianne smiled and took the proffered cup and one of the shortbread biscuits when the plate was passed to her, taking a seat in one of the deeply cushioned armchairs. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“Oh, it is nothing.” Angelique waved off the compliment with a smile as she poured for herself and sat. “It is the least I can do for you brave men and women of Spectrum.”

“Please, tell me about yourself, Grandmother.” Dianne glanced over at the walls flanking the fireplace and smiled at the plethora of photos and accompanying nameplates hung with care across two walls and above the mantelpiece. “Is this your family?” she asked.

“Yes, all the way from my grandparents to my grandsons Jacques, Philippe and Michael.” Angelique beamed with pride, green eyes alight with delight. “Though their parents passed away some years ago in a car accident, they still live with me. They all work in town, really they should be living there, the commute is so long, but they wish to look after me and help with the farm,” she smiled.

“May I take a look?” Dianne asked, seeing names and dates under each of the photos.

“Oh yes, do,” Angelique invited with a smile, clearly pleased and flattered by the genuine interest Dianne showed in her family.

Rhapsody set down her teacup carefully and went to inspect the photos. The three grandsons she identified quickly and mentally adjusted her preconceptions of ‘the boys’- Jacques and Michael were the oldest and twins if their photo was anything to go by. Tanned, dark haired, green eyed and muscular, they were pictured hefting hay with pitchforks, perhaps in their mid thirties. Phillpe was younger, early thirties at her guess, lean with a sharply defined jaw, green eyes and his black hair neatly cropped, he had his arms around a young German Shepherd and a stethoscope looped around his neck.

“Is he a veterinarian?” Rhapsody asked.

“Yes, his practice is in town.” Angelique nodded. “We are very proud of him.”

Amongst the family photos and portraits, a framed and painted tile hung in the place of honour in the centre of the arrangement, right above the fireplace. Curiosity piqued, Rhapsody moved in for a closer look.

The glazed tile was cracked with age, but the very English family crest it bore was clear. On a silver shield trimmed in white on black ermines was a red wolf displayed rampant guardant – standing on its hind feet, the front paws raised and a pointed black tongue protruding from between long white fangs. It was a very aggressive image that for some reason gave her chills. There was a red crescent over the beast’s head like a half-halo – the mark of a second-born son – and the entire display was surmounted by a common knight’s helm, its crimson and white mantling with tattered edges flaring about it. “Is this your family crest?” Rhapsody asked, pointing to the painted tile.

“My son in law’s, yes.” Grandmother nodded, lifting her chin with pride. “Joshua Duregard came from England for an adventure and fell in love with my daughter, Aimée, raising his family here.” She pointed to a photo beside it, a wedding picture of a lean man with dark hair and eyes and a curvaceous blonde with Angelique’s green eyes. “He would sit with his sons on his knees and tell them all about their family crest: le Loup Rouge, the Red Wolf. His ancestors fought for kings and whoever else would pay good money for the finest knights at their side. The old stories say they fought so ferociously their surcoats were red with the blood of their enemies, so their crest became the red wolf. He was descended from Sir Athelstan Dureguard, second son of Sir Jean Dureguard.” She pointed to an ancient, faded picture above the tile that looked like a copy of a woodcut picture of a knight, some sort of raggedy cloak draped about his shoulders. “He was the most famous of all and he wore a wolf skin into battle as his cloak, the hide of a man eater that he killed with his bare hands!”

“Fascinating.” Rhapsody made a mental note of the name and heraldic devices, intending to look it up after they got back to Cloudbase.

They talked about everything and nothing in particular until the tea was cold in the pot and Angelique wasn’t able to stifle her yawns. Assuring her hostess that she should go to bed and as for herself that she couldn’t sleep anyway, Rhapsody helped tidy up the tea things and refilled the kettle for coffee.

She checked her watch as the kettle bubbled. It was close to midnight now, she’d wake Adam in an hour for his turn on stag. There were the grandsons to keep an eye out for, they should be returning at some point soon, and not to mention those creatures, just in case they hadn’t lost them in the woods. As soon as Grandmother Angelique was safely asleep she would get her sidearm and find a good vantage point to keep watch.

Once the coffee was made and with final assurances that yes, it was perfectly fine and she should go to sleep, Angelique puttered her way towards the hallway, Dianne reached for the coffee... and paused.

Something didn’t feel right.

Doing her best to mask her alarm, Rhapsody tuned her ears to the ambient sounds of the house, trying to pick up what had alerted her. She casually moved along the counter to the windows, bringing her eyes up to check the reflections for anyone behind her before she turned.

“Aaah...!”

“Grandmother?” Rhapsody whirled and faced the doorway... and her face drained of all blood when she beheld what stood there.

It was huge, broad shouldered and easily six feet tall. It took a step forward, placing its clawed foot down so silently it was no wonder she never realised it was there until that cry of terror alerted her. Muscles rippled under black fur as it approached the Angel, triangular ears tipped forward, yellow eyes intent and canine nose twitching in attentive study of her. Tatters of clothing clung to its body and a thick black tail idly brushed the tiled floor behind it.

Rhapsody felt her breath catch in her throat as her mind tallied up all features and presented her with one conclusion: werewolf.

“I have to get out of here...” she grasped the thought and held it tight amid the turmoil of terror in her mind, “I have to lead this thing away from the others, circle around, get back to them and get help.”

Her eyes locked on the beast’s, Rhapsody slowly began to back away, following the line of the faux stone benchtop to the front door. The werewolf followed on those utterly silent feet, a low growl of displeasure beginning to rumble in the deep chest while its tawny eyes narrowed. She passed the stove and the werewolf snarled and grabbed at her with a claw-tipped hand.

But Rhapsody was faster.

Before it could touch her she snatched an empty skillet from the stove, flung it at the beast and bolted for the front door.

She heard metal strike flesh with a dull thud as she slammed the door shut behind her and plunged into a copse of saplings beside the house, arms crossed over her face to protect it against the thin, whip-like twigs that slashed at the rest of her body. Behind her there was a crash of splintering wood and shattering glass- obviously her little diversion and the door hadn’t stopped it for long.

The still night was rent by the sound of a deep howl and Rhapsody put on an extra burst of adrenaline-fueled speed. She fought her way through the clinging saplings and into an open meadow before the tumbled down barn.

Some deer were in the midst of fleeing the meadow – she could see their white rumps vanishing under the trees. “Good, their scent should confuse things.” She dashed into the middle of the field and then struck off to her right. A person being chased will almost always turn to the left, that particular instinctive response had been trained out of her a long time ago.

Her socks made her slip in the dew-wet grass, so she quickly discarded them, tossing them into the trees in different directions to hopefully add more confusion to her scent trail. A dip in the landscape led her to a narrow stream and she leapt across it - slow moving water would only spread her scent around and she didn’t have the light to run down the stream.

Scrambling up the opposite bank, she heard crashing in the trees and a fresh jolt of adrenaline put an added spurt of speed to her flight: it was still on her trail and getting closer. The trees thinned ahead of her and she came to a clearing of some sort, thick with springy bushes. Set off to the side of the clearing, a tall stone outcropping gleamed pale in the moonlight, dotted with dark patches that Rhapsody hoped to heaven were caves. If she could get into one deep enough and narrow enough she could wait out the creature, maybe even trap and kill it if she found something to use as a weapon.

She slipped through the bushes and scrambled up the rocky flank, biting off the cries of pain when she scored her hands and feet on the rough stone. The first dark cleft was just a shadow on the rock, but the second was an actual cave. Rhapsody threw a glance over her shoulder: the beast was at the tree-line and looking around. She ducked inside and crawled into the cave, finding to her horror that in addition to the chest-high roof it was only a little deeper than her walk-in wardrobe back home and roughly the same size.

“It’s too late to find a new bolt hole. This will have to do.” She cast about, looking around for a rock or stick or some other weapon... and then the moonlight filtering into the cave was blocked by a canine silhouette.

It had found her.

Rhapsody crawled as far back as she could go as the beast slowly advanced on all fours, her retreat stopped by the back of the cave. She drew herself up against the cold stone, her foot cocked back to kick the thing. “Stay back!” she warned, her voice shrill in her own ears. It huffed at her, then faster than she could track it slapped one massive hand down, grabbed her ankle, and pinned both of her feet to the ground, reaching out towards her with the other.

She stiffened, prepared for the worst, but was not prepared at all when the creature instead patted her down, tugging at her uniform jacket. Rhapsody’s eyes narrowed dangerously. A chase through the night that belonged in a B-grade horror flick was something she could deal with like the professional she was, being groped by something that belonged in said horror flick was a step too far. “Paws off!” she snapped indignantly and dealt the thing a ringing slap across its black muzzle.

To her surprise it let go of her ankles and jerked back with wide, startled eyes. It blinked several times, sneezed, shook its massive head as if to clear the cobwebs out and let out a strange kind of yelp. “Drrrraaah!” It looked at her expectantly, head tilted to one side. “Drrraaahh!” It tried again, strangely insistent. Not getting whatever response it was expecting out of her, the beast crouched down as low as it could go and stared at her for a long moment.

She glared back at the creature, her eyes flinty. Ears pitched forward and head low, the werewolf carefully extended its muzzle and sniffed at her leg. Carefully, cautiously and still keeping low, it reached out to her again. Rhapsody lifted her hand to strike. “Oh no, you bloody well don’t!” she warned, seething fury lacing her words. “You can tell me what you’re after and if it’s a midnight frolic you can forget it!”

Again it shook itself, blinked several times and gave voice to a low 'wh-huff’. It backed up, away from her and towards the entrance of the cave where it paused and seemed to gather itself, back hunched and breath curling in wisps of mist that glowed eerily in the moonlight.

All the strange events of the night were nothing compared to what happened next.

Uncurling itself, the massive werewolf shuddered, lifted its muzzle to the stars and gave voice to a bellow of raw agony. The beast was silhouetted against the setting moon and the Angel could only stare in horror as its flesh rippled and it hunched up one moment and arched in pain the next, clawed hands splayed wide and tail lashing the cold night air. It howled again and the great muscles surged and shifted like water roiling in a pot.

It fell to its knees and she saw the moonlight shine more clearly through its fur as the thick black pelt began to thin. Wracked by the tortuous convulsions it writhed, clawed furrows in the earth and tried to stretch, one leg lifting then spasming as the ankle snapped into proper alignment with a cruel crack of bones. The tail shortened as she watched in mute horror while the other leg followed its twin and became straight. Smaller now, the creature sank to the dirt, shuddering through a final convulsion until at last it was not a monster, but a man, lying splayed out on his belly and gasping, his eyes closed and seemingly insensible while the coppery tang of blood was heavy in the air.

Carefully, Rhapsody worked her way to her feet and closed her fingers around a stone, just in case. She crossed the cave and crouched at his side, one hand reaching out to touch the bloodied shoulder to try and rouse the man into wakefulness. But before she could touch him his hand shot up and grabbed her wrist with an iron grip. “Dianne!” the man growled, teeth bared in a grimace and blue eyes locked on hers.

Realisation struck like a lightning bolt and the rock dropped from her nerveless fingers. “P-Paul..?” Dianne stammered in shock, she hardly dared to believe it. “Paul... but... how, what happened?” she asked, raking her eyes over his blood-streaked form for some clue. His skin was already seamlessly healed but he was far hairier than normal; his usually well maintained haircut replaced by a ragged tumble of dark locks hanging about his shoulders and the beginnings of a beard darkened his face.

“No time!” Scarlet hauled himself to his knees, left hand releasing the death grip on her wrist while the right dug itself into the dirt and he gave voice to an animalistic snarl of pain, his chest heaving as he sucked in deep breaths of cold night air. “Can’t hold on... for long...” He looked over his shoulder, cast baleful eyes upon the dying moon and growled low in his throat. “Trying to hold it off... It’s... it’s... so hard to think straight...”

“Who did this? Hold what off?” Dianne pressed, gently touching her hand to his cheek in an attempt to calm the man. She could feel the coarse hair of his beard growing under her palm.

Paul leaned into the gentle touch, eyes closed and inhaling deeply. “Hold it off... keep in control... the animals... them...” he murmured the words and nuzzled her wrist, his voice half an octave lower than it had been a moment ago. “...out in the forest... them....” Blue eyes snapped back open into alertness and he reached for her again, desperately grasping at the skillfully concealed pocket just above her left hip. “Him! Beacon! Your beacon... get Fawn...!” His words dissolved into inarticulate noises and Scarlet snarled in frustration, trying to work his bloodied fingers into the pocket. His control was slipping! He didn’t have much time and he had to make sure she was safe! They had to get help and she was the only one who could get it!

Dianne blinked and mentally chided herself for forgetting such an important thing, then gently moved his hand away and withdrew the small emergency locator beacon, no bigger than an American quarter. “It’s here, calm down Paul, it’s here.” Rhapsody pulled the safety tab and pressed down on the centre button. To her great relief it blinked twice at them and she slipped it back into the pocket for safekeeping- the signal had somehow punched through to Cloudbase. “They’re coming, Paul,” she soothed, stroking his hairy cheek again. “I’ve still got a flare at the house, we’ll set it off when we hear the helicopter to guide them in.”

Scarlet pulled himself free, his thickening mane of hair shaking with the movement. “You don’t understand!” he snarled, teeth bared. “Warn them!”

“Warn them about...?”

A distant howl echoed off the rocks and Paul lurched to all fours, back hunched and a snarl rumbling in his chest. Rhapsody snatched up her rock. “What was that?” she demanded and rose, trying to see past him.

Paul glanced at her over his shoulder, his features starting to warp and shift. When he spoke, the word came out in a low snarl. “Adam.” He grabbed the Angel and shoved her towards the cave entrance. “Don’t know... if I can stay in control! Run! From both of us!”

Barely keeping her footing in the treacherous moonlight, Rhapsody scrambled down the rough stone and into the thick sedge that surrounded the outcrop. Nearby, a venerable tree had toppled some time ago, leaving a rotting trunk and a tangled nest of roots. She made for it, hoping to use the log as cover to get to the thicker trees surrounding the clearing.

She had just reached the tangle of limbs that was the crown when she heard a sudden flutter of wings and a panicked cawing as some disturbed bird made for the safety of the skies. With a terrible sinking feeling she saw a pale figure emerge from under the shadows of the trees in front of her.

Rhapsody shrank back half a step as the new beast approached. He was at least as tall as Paul had been, perhaps narrower in the chest and shoulders but he looked just as strong. Where Scarlet’s fur was a solid, midnight black, the newcomer wore sandy yellow that paled to cream under the chin and on the belly.

With that colouring it could only be Adam, but there was no flicker of recognition in his golden eyes, no glint of intelligence. Something else burned there, something terrifying.

Rage.

The lean werewolf circled slowly, eyes flicking over her, studying her, sizing her up. His nose twitched and she knew he was smelling the blood smeared on her jacket. Dianne moved carefully, walking back to the roots with one hand thrust out behind her as she tried to keep him within sight at all times. “Adam, listen to me. Your name is Adam Svenson, remember?” she coaxed. Her hand brushed up against a broken branch and she grasped it, feeling it slide free from the tangle. “You’re a friend of mine, remember? We came here on a mission.”

He growled, low and threatening, as he moved towards her, one hand reaching out.

“Blue!” Dianne yelped and slapped the claw-tipped hand away with the branch. “You’re not a werewolf! You’re Adam Svenson, Captain Blue of Spectrum!” She shifted her grip and swung it like a baseball bat, barely missing his muzzle. That was the only chance she got. On her next swing Adam’s jaws closed on the branch and it snapped like a twig.

He lashed out with a vicious backhanded blow, catching her across the torso and sending her sprawling. The werewolf was moving in for the kill when the air rang with a low, bell toned howl. Blue looked up, lip curling and hackles bristling as he snarled low in his throat. An inky silhouette, darker than the night, rose up from the rocks above and howled again. Dianne felt her heart quail inside her chest.

Paul had finished his transformation but was he still in control this time?

The pale wolf above her got to his feet and bellowed back, muzzle lifting to a sky wreathed with the green ribbons of an aurora as he howled his challenge. Dianne took the opportunity and scrambled away from under the creature, making for a small pile of rocks and branches for cover and ammunition. Two tennis ball sized stones made a good start.

Adam ignored her, all his attention focused on the other werewolf leaping down from the craggy hill. Yellow fur bristling, he lifted his muzzle and howled again at the interloper.

Heart in her throat, Dianne watched with horror as the two werewolves approached each other, hackles raised and lips curled back from serrated teeth as they snarled at each other.

Paul laid his ears back and barked, a sharp, harsh sound in the still night. “Ahrrrrah!” He almost seemed to chew on the word as he tried to get it past a tongue and teeth not made for human language. “Ahdrrrah!” He made a sharp slashing motion with one hand and snarled, an obvious indication for the other male to stop posturing.

There was a moment of pause, then the lean werewolf exploded into action, arms wide to grapple. Paul deftly turned and let him skid past, then tried to tackle Adam. Unfortunately the other werewolf was wise to the trick and lashed out, booting him away with a powerful kick.

Evenly matched, they grappled and clawed at each other savagely, hackles raised and fangs bared. The sandy-furred werewolf broke away from his opponent for breathing room, eyes searching for some kind of advantage. They fell upon Dianne, still perched beside the rock pile with a stone in each hand. Adam’s lip curled further and he lunged at her. Her first throw missed by a hair, but the second bounced off his skull and slowed him for the split second Scarlet needed.

He sprang forward, powerful thews propelling him into a rugby tackle that caught the leaner werewolf in the side. Still stunned from the rock, Adam couldn’t react quickly enough and Scarlet pinned him to the ground with a horrible snarl, his jaws around the pale beast’s throat. Scarlet let out a deep, threatening growl and closed his jaws slightly, white fangs pressing through fur to touch the skin underneath. The other beast snarled and tried to thrash free, but the black werewolf held him down and snarled back, demanding surrender. Adam’s growls trailed off and he stilled, lying limp on the rough ground. Paul held him pinned there a moment longer to make his point, then released him with a snorted ‘wh-huff’ and turned his attention to Dianne.

“Paul?” She asked, another rock concealed in the palm of her hand and ready to use it if need be.

He nodded, reaching out to her with one hand to help her down from her perch. She took it, still retaining her rock until something better came her way. With a snarl and jerk of his head at Adam to get up and follow, Scarlet ushered them back to the farmhouse.

Safely ensconced inside, Dianne eyed Adam with suspicion, her reclaimed pistol a comforting weight on her hip as she checked on Grandmother and made sure she was warm and comfortable in the lounge. The elderly woman had fainted in the hallway upon seeing Scarlet in his altered form.

Thankfully Blue had left her alone, chasing after Scarlet shortly after his own change. It hadn’t been too great an effort to move Angelique to the lounge and settle her onto one of the couches, covering her with woollen blankets from the linen cupboard. She’d have a few bumps and bruises when she woke, but nothing permanent. Paul had left shortly afterwards to check the perimeter, if she’d correctly understood his gestures and mangled attempts at words to that effect.

For his part the pale werewolf lurked in the kitchen, claws clicking as he paced over the cream tiles and tail twitching. Rhapsody knew enough about canine body language to know that meant agitation. That he continued to look over his shoulder at her with narrowed eyes was not reassuring.

So fixated on Adam, she barely realised Paul had slipped back to the house until the black werewolf lunged from the broken doorway and grabbed Adam from behind in a headlock – the classic sleeper hold they all knew. The other werewolf roared and struggled, knocking pots and knicknacks across the floor with his flailing until he suddenly slumped and was still, chest and belly rising and falling with deep and even breaths.

“Paul! What...?” Dianne shot to her feet, then realised what Paul was about when he showed her the fistful of bungee cords he carried, probably pilfered from the workshop. “Do you need help?”

“Nnnn.” Scarlet shook his massive head and started to drag his partner into the bedroom Blue had been given earlier. Dianne followed anyway, helping shift the limp form into the bed and bind him securely, his head tilted back and to the side with pillows to keep him from suffocating on his tongue or drowning in his own vomit while he was unconscious. Towels and blankets were brought in from a linen cupboard that Rhapsody had found in the hall to keep him comfortable and warm.

The task complete and feeling deeply uncomfortable with the experience of restraining a friend, Dianne slumped into an overgrown armchair positioned by the bed and rubbed at her gritty eyes, suddenly feeling completely drained by it all.

This had been a very long night.

Sensing her dismay, Scarlet crouched beside her chair, claw-tipped hands draped over the armrest and ears low. “Drrrraannn?” He nuzzled her cheek and whimpered softly, head tilted to one side in query.

Dianne sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “I’m alright, Scarlet,” she replied softly. “I just worry for you and Adam and poor Grandmother Angelique, she was so kind to us.” The Angel sighed again and without thinking about it she shifted to scritch under the werewolf’s chin and behind his ears, like she did to any of the dogs her family had had growing up. Scarlet rumbled happily and leaned into it with half-closed eyes, his thick tail thumping the floor. She couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re so cute like this, like a big black puppy,” she told him impishly.

Paul jerked his head back, looking absolutely scandalised. “Hrrrrut?” he repeated, then huffed. “Nnnnn!” he insisted, then leaned in and licked the Angel’s cheek from jawline to hairline with his very long, very wet tongue and settled back on his haunches, looking extremely pleased with himself.

The Angel yelped in indignation and tried to wipe the worst off with her sleeve. “Scarlet!” She gave the werewolf a look that could have withered grass.

Scarlet just grinned at her in the canine fashion, lop eared and tail wagging, highly amused. He got to his feet and tapped the pocket where her beacon was hidden, then pointed to her, his eyes, the door and the sky.

“You... want me to keep watch? For the rescue team?” Dianne queried, receiving a solemn nod in reply. “What about you?”

Paul simply pointed to Adam, himself and then the floor, his message clear- staying put, watching him.

“S.I.G, call me if there is trouble,” Dianne replied as she rose and made her way outside to find a vantage point near the house to keep watch, collecting her communicator, the flare and a dark blanket for warmth and camouflage along the way. Though the beacon still blinked reassuringly, her slim communicator squealed static every time she tried it at 15 minute intervals, but if anyone could find them it would be Green, looking for those pulses of handshake signals as per their training.

However, one thought nagged in the back of her mind: where on earth were the grandsons? It was almost sunrise and they’d still not returned home.

In the meantime, Scarlet resigned himself to await the dawn and see if it would allow both Adam and himself a respite from this nightmare made real. The last hours of night crawled past, the skies paled and reddened in the east, then as the edge of the sun peeked over the horizon Scarlet felt something shift in the back of his skull. He saw his pelt begin to thin before he lost all sense of anything except the unnatural movements of muscle and bone as he returned to his normal form, but strangely this change, while not exactly comfortable, was quite painless, unlike his forced transition earlier.

He let out a ragged gasp as the last stages of transformation finally left him and he found himself on the floor, propped up on all fours to catch his breath, and dripping blood, sweat and hair on the carpet. Sufficiently recovered, and slightly concerned that he wasn’t ravenously hungry like he normally would be after retrometabolisim had worked its magic, Scarlet picked up a leftover towel, wrapped it around his waist for modesty’s sake, and settled into the big armchair to wait for Adam.

It didn’t take long.

Before the sun had fully cleared the horizon, Adam thrashed through his own transformation and sagged into the bed, still insensible and bound by the bungee cords. Paul left his chair long enough to give his partner a little dignity with the blankets and once again sat down to wait and see what state Adam was in post transformation, if the beast was fully quiescent under the light of the sun.

Perhaps a minute later Adam groaned and stirred, blinking at the bright light streaming through the window. He tried to move, snapping to full alertness when he realised he was restrained, his eyes darting around the room until he spotted his partner watching him intently. Adam swallowed hard when he saw Paul’s bloodied and unkempt state, glanced down at himself, shuddered and finally found his voice. “Paul... why am I tied to the bed, what happened to me and what happened to you?” After a moment he added, “and do I want to know?”

“It’s a long story.” Paul smiled faintly, relieved that Adam was himself again. He stood and began to undo the bungee cords.

“I’m going to need to talk to Orchid after this, aren’t I?” Adam grimaced, sitting up and rubbing his wrists when he was finally freed.

“We both are,” Paul replied, still somewhat reserved and cautious. “How much do you remember?”

Adam frowned and picked at the blanket, gathering his thoughts. “The conference, then on our way to the depot the SSC broke down and we were attacked by... things. You were hurt,” he paused and looked at the formerly savaged arm, nodding to himself when he saw it was healed and whole. “Rhapsody spotted a farmhouse, the lady let us stay and...” He frowned. “I had this really weird dream but I’ve got a feeling it was more real than it has a right to be.” He ran his fingers through his hair in a rare nervous gesture, eyes widening when he realised there was a lot more hair than he expected.

“You’d be right about that Adam.” Paul relaxed and made for the door, finally sure Adam was in his right mind again. “Let’s get cleaned up and check on Rhapsody. I’ll fill you in.”

“S.I.G.”

Their timing happened to be perfect.

Clean and dressed in the spare clothes they’d kept in their backpacks, though Scarlet was still minus his red tunic, they ate the ration bars in their packs and emerged into the dewy morning just as Rhapsody set off the flare in the field to guide in the approaching helicopter. She turned her back and crouched as the rotor wash whipped up dust and debris, the blades whirling to a halt and familiar figures jumped out with rifles at the ready: Ochre, Grey and a moment later Destiny as soon as the machine had shut down.

“What the hell happened to you three?” Grey safetied his rifle and slung it over his shoulder after giving the exhausted Angel and the unusually bearded and haggard looking Captains a quick look-over for any obvious injuries. “The Colonel was just about ready to bite rock and spit sand when we left.”

“It’s a long story and don’t get too close,” Scarlet replied, weariness evident in his voice. “Grey, you and Ochre need to stay here, we’re going back to Cloudbase. Destiny, radio ahead, we’re going to need biohazard protocols activated as soon as we touch down.”

“Hang on, like the man said: what happened?” Ochre asked, glancing at them before scanning the farmhouse and the tree line suspiciously, his hand going back to his rifle.

“Would you believe werewolves?” Rhapsody scrubbed a hand over her eyes, fatigued after a night with little sleep. “No, Scarlet, I’m staying here. I obviously haven’t been affected. It can’t be the Mysterons this time, we need information and I’ve already got a rapport with the occupant we can use, not to mention the security breach that needs covering. Besides, the heli’ can only take two passengers with biohaz protocols.”

“Wait a minute, back up, werewolves?” Grey cut in. A couple of years ago he would have seasoned that statement with a substantial sprinkle of scepticism but then Scarlet should have stayed dead at least a dozen times this year already. Weirdness was something anyone could adapt to, it seemed.

It took Rhapsody, Scarlet and Blue about three minutes to sketch in what had happened between leaving the conference and the helicopter arriving, their colleagues listening in increasingly stunned silence as the tale unfolded.

After a pause, Destiny spoke for them all with a soft but heartfelt “Zut.” Then she turned on her heel and started towards the helicopter. “I will have the helicopter ready in fifteen minutes,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Bonne chance, Rhapsody.”

“Hold it, car!” Grey warned, pointing down the rutted gravel driveway.

A boxy, rust-red SUV was kicking up a cloud of dust as it approached the house, three figures inside. Gravel sprayed from under the wheels as it came to an abrupt stop and they could see the people within have what looked like a short argument.

Before any of them could think to signal to the occupants, the front passenger door and rear driver side door flew open and two figures surged out, their forms shifting and rippling into something out of a nightmare. A third figure stumbled out of the driver’s door, only to get violently backhanded to the ground by one of the misshapen, grey-brown werewolves. He yelped at the hit, went down hard and didn’t move, and that was enough for the Spectrum officers to firmly shift these creatures into the ‘threat’ category.

Ochre had his rifle into his hands first, a quick burst of bullets stitching across the front of the car a split second after one of the werewolves moved out of the way.

“Eyes on bogey one! Where’s two?” Rhapsody swivelled, pistol in hand and tracking one of the beasts as it ducked behind the SUV.

“I have bogey two!” Rifle to her shoulder, Destiny stroked the trigger but didn’t fire yet. “It is going for the helicopter! I do not have a clear shot!”

“Blue!” Grey quickly moved to stand protectively over the other officer as he suddenly cried out and crumpled to his knees. “Holy-! He’s changing!”

“Get back!” Rhapsody warned, remembering what happened earlier. “Grey, get back!” To her eternal gratitude, Grey immediately backpedalled.

“Grey, covering fire!” Ochre snapped out the order, “keep them pinned!”

A squeal of tearing metal was the rear rotor being ripped off the helicopter, the misshapen creature brandishing it like a sword and starting towards them, then ducking back when Destiny shot in it’s direction. Ochre was slowly circling to the right to try and get a better firing angle to protect Blue, who was quickly losing his humanity, tearing open his clothes with clawed hands as pale yellow fur coursed down his neck and arms.

Rhapsody was trying to see where the other werewolf had gotten to when a familiar cry of pain made her look at Scarlet. He was on hands and knees, his breath hissing between his clenched teeth and the cords of his neck standing out as he tried to wrestle with the beast inside his skin.

From the corner of her eye she spied Ochre and Grey getting well clear as the pale werewolf who was Blue got up, a snarl curling his lip. One running leap and he was on top of the SUV’s roof, the glass shattering and metal crumpling under his weight, then with another horrid growl he was off the car, tackling one of the other werewolves to the ground and out of sight.

“Scarlet!” Trusting her wing leader to have her back, Dianne holstered her pistol and dropped down in front of her beloved, clasping his head between her hands to make him look at her, desperate to help him deny the beast and remain in control. “Fight it! Fight it Scarlet!” She could feel his bones and muscles starting to warp and shift under her hands, a hideous sensation that made her skin crawl, but she forced herself to hold on.

“R-Rhapsody....!” Paul cried out and dug his fingers into the ground, but he kept his eyes locked on hers, as if she was the lifeline he was clinging to. “I...I...!”

It happened in the space of a heartbeat.

Dianne saw his eyes go from her face to a point over her shoulder, then he was shoving her out of the way and lunging up from the ground to intercept the werewolf that leapt at them from behind the helicopter, rotor-blade in hand. Sent sprawling, Dianne could only watch in horror as Paul shifted form, his clothing splitting along the seams. He was half-changed when he crashed into the other beast and fully changed by the time they hit the ground, both of them snarling and growling horribly as they grappled and rolled over the hard-packed earth.

The other creature tried to rip out his throat, but only managed to get his teeth into Scarlet’s shoulder when the black werewolf twisted. The grey-brown creature bit and tore at his shoulder to make him let go, then as soon as Scarlet’s grip loosened, he fought free, knocked Scarlet down and bolted for the tree line. The other misshapen werewolf was right behind him, chased by a snarling Blue, streaks of blood staining his pelt a rusty hue.

“Scarlet?” Rhapsody rolled to her feet and took a half-step towards the black-furred werewolf who was half-crouched and nursing his wounded shoulder

The black werewolf let out a horrible snarl, his ears laid back, then turned and ran into the trees after Blue.

Dianne swallowed hard. That...that wasn’t Paul. The werewolf was fully in control this time. “And somehow I don’t think I can slap some sense into him this time...”

“Rhapsody!”

Then Destiny was there, checking her over while muttering some of the vilest swear words she’d ever heard out of the woman.

“She was WAAF,” Dianne reminded herself. “It shouldn’t surprise me she’s fluent in ‘the soldier’s universal language’.” Out loud she said “I’m fine, Destiny, just surprised and a bit winded, that’s all.”

Destiny searched her face with worried eyes, then nodded. “D’accord.”

“The others?” Rhapsody asked, looking around and spotting her pistol on the ground. She scooped it up, catching a glimpse of her watch as she did so. The whole fight had taken less than a minute!

“We’re fine, looks like they just wanted to get away,” Grey said as he came over, a limp figure slung over his shoulder. “Who’s this?” He put the unconscious man down.

“Philippe, the youngest grandson,” Dianne identified him easily. “The others must have been the twins Jacques and Michael, his older brothers.”

“Were they the ones you saw last night?” Ochre asked as he came towards the group, rifle in hand and eyes everywhere, never settling for long in one spot. “They’re different to Scarlet and Blue.”

Rhapsody closed her eyes and tried to match the silhouettes she’d glimpsed to the creatures that had burst out of the car. “...yes. I didn’t get a good look, but they move the same way.”

“Okay, so we’ve found our perps. That’s good, we’re not looking for another party.” Ochre nodded, then looked around at their surroundings again, frowned, and swore.

“Ochre?” Grey asked.

“...you guys realise we’re one trope away from being in a horror movie, right?” Rick asked back, looking at the other three.

“What?” Dianne blinked.

Rick started ticking points off on his fingers. “Classic group of four or five surviving characters. Vehicle breakdown. Rural and/or isolated farm location. An encounter at night with the monster. No comms, and,” he waved at the wrecked vehicles, “no transport. The one thing out of place is that,” he pointed in the rough direction of the warm sun beaming down on them, “and that’s going to change in a couple of hours.”

Grey blanched. “Yeah, that’s a good point.”

“What about waiting for backup?” Rhapsody asked, looking between the other three.

“Our first check-in is due...” Destiny checked her watch, “in twenty three minutes. But because of the solar flares we have to miss a second check-in half hour after that before they will send backup.”

“And that’s going to be overland, not by air,” Ochre jumped in. “Remember what I said about that changing?” He waved a hand up at the sky. “There’s a storm front rolling in, it’ll hit this area shortly. Backup will be by land, and we’re a long way from anywhere.”

“And they’ve got to be able to contact the local agents first, then they have to travel here, and so on and so forth,” Rhapsody realised, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “So we’re effectively on our own.”

“Yup. So how the hell are we going to get our two back?” Ochre asked, gesturing in the direction of the now vanished werewolves. “Whistle? See if there’s any steaks or dog food in the kitchen? Go ‘here boy?’ and make that clicky noise?”

“I heard that putting out a piece of clothing you’ve worn can help a dog find their way back to you,” Grey ventured. “There’s plenty of bits of their clothes around.”

“Yeah, we can chuck out our undershirts or something, we’ve got spares,” Ochre nodded.

“That might work on dogs, but they’re not dogs, Scarlet and Blue are still in there somewhere, and we can’t forget the two brothers are out there as well,” Rhapsody pointed out. “Also,” she waved at their surroundings, “wild animals. I don’t think we should be leaving food out, nor giving those two mongrels a chance to catch our scent.”

“I’ll take your word on the first, and you’re right about the rest.” Ochre frowned, casting his eyes over the area again before turning back to the group. “When help comes it’s going to come here, so we need to stay put, and odds are good that the brothers or Scarlet and Blue are going to come back here, so we need to prep for that.” He squared his shoulders and started issuing orders. “As much as I hate to make the classic horror movie mistake of splitting the party, we need to make things happen, ASAP.” Ochre pointed at the helicopter. “That’s not flying again, but we might be able to get the radio going. Grey, you and Destiny pull the emergency gear, the radio unit, battery and antenna and bring it into the house. Rhapsody, you and me are going inside to sweep and secure the house and check on Mrs Tussod. Once that’s done, if he’s decided to wake up we’re going to have a little chat with this guy,” Ochre pointed to the still insensible youngest brother, “and figure out what the hell is going on here.”

As thickening clouds rolled in from the south and east to intercept the sun, Philippe was carried inside and put on the second couch and a check showed Angelique Tussod was still out cold on the other one. Rhapsody took the precaution of tying Philippe’s wrists with some kitchen twine and securing the other end to the leg of the couch, just in case he woke up while they were busy.

That done, they set to their preparations. Evidently this was bear country: in a cupboard under the stairs, Rhapsody found a stash of window and door grilles that could be put on the inside of the frame and securely locked into place to keep said animals from breaking in. It was the work of minutes to get all of them into place and they all felt that much safer when it was done.

Destiny and Grey had the helicopter stripped in record time, the parts stacked in a corner of the lounge, and a hunt through the car turned up a medical kit, a bug-out bag with food and a car emergency kit with flares that they brought in too, just in case it could be useful. Their rifles were placed on the kitchen island so they could tally up how many bullets were left, and black plastic rubbish bags were taped over windows with strategic slits cut so they could peep out but it would be so much harder for someone to look in. Calls to Cloudbase returned only static, so Ochre decreed they’d wait until the more powerful helicopter radio could be reassembled.

The sky was almost pitch black as Grey made one final trip back into the house. “That’s the last of it,” Grey announced as he put his, Destiny’s and Ochre’s go-bags with the rest of the equipment in the lounge and Destiny swung the front door grille shut and locked it.

“Great, help me with this,” Ochre pointed to the heavy dining table. “That front door’s got the structural integrity of tissue paper, I want something else to slow the critters down.”

“S.I.G.” Grey nodded. With a grunt of effort, they picked up the table and placed it securely in front of the broken door to back up the grille... which revealed something that had been hidden underneath.

“There is a trap door!” Destiny pointed to the square door cut into the floor, secured with a hefty, built-in lock.

“Let’s check it out. Angels, watch our backs, Grey, c’mon,” Ochre said as he crouched next to the lock and pulled his pouch of picks from inside his tunic. Three minutes and a swear word later – it was a very, very good lock – and it clicked open. Rhapsody hauled the heavy trap door open, and with pistols and flashlights in hand, the two captains carefully made their way down the steep steps and into the dark hole.

The two Angels waited, hands on their pistols as they kept one eye on the civilians and strained their ears to listen to the captains moving around the space. One of them found a lightswitch because the darkness was replaced by a warm glow, then there were footsteps on the stairs and Grey came back up. “I’ll keep watch, you two need to see what’s down there.”

“S.I.G.” Destiny answered for them both, and with a quick look at Rhapsody, they descended into the basement.

Rick looked up from the notebook he was flicking through. “So this makes horror movie trope number what, seven?” he said, trying to lighten the mood with a quip.

“Eight, I’d say, now that the weather’s changed,” Dianne murmured back, her head on a swivel as she scanned over what they’d discovered. A rectangular hole in the ground with concrete-sheathed walls, the basement was crammed with a wealth of scientific equipment and glassware lined up on workbenches, hung from racks pinned to the walls or stacked on shelves, and a large, glass-fronted refrigerator held petri dishes, sealed test tubes and packets and bags marked with black and yellow tape and the curling ‘biohazard’ symbol. The small freezer beside it was plastered with similar warnings.

“It is Frankenstein’s laboratory!” Juliette exclaimed. “But all this equipment...” she bent to examine the manufacturer’s plate on some sort of centrifuge. “It is old, look, this was made almost thirty years ago.”

“Yeah, and these notebooks,” Rick held up the well-thumbed book he had been looking at, “go back to at least then, if not further.”

“What are they about?” Dianne asked, coming over to get a look.

Rick shrugged and flipped open for her. “Damned if I know. It’s either doctor handwriting, coded, or both. I can’t make any sense of it.”

Dianne squinted at the erratic scrawling across the pages, the text broken up here and there by strings of chemical formulas and esoteric diagrams, and was forced to agree. She was about to say as much when Grey called down ‘Hey, get up here, they’re waking up!’

“Let’s go,” Ochre put down the book. “Maybe now we can get some straight answers.”

Upstairs, Grey was kneeling beside Angelique and quietly talking her down in a gentle, soothing voice. The older woman was quivering like a baby bird, dabbing at her eyes with an oversized handkerchief and repeatedly murmuring ‘I don’t understand... I just... I just don’t understand...’ In contrast, Philippe was hunched in on himself, breathing fast and tugging at his bound wrists, his eyes everywhere as he took in the four of them, the fortified and covered windows and the barricaded door.

Ochre took point on questioning Philippe, perching himself on the edge of the coffee table with a grim expression. “I have absolutely zero patience for any lies, beating around the bush or fudging the truth. Two of my friends got turned into werewolves because of your brothers. Explain. Now.”

Philippe’s eyes darted to his grandmother, then went back to Ochre. “Not here. I’ll tell you everything, but not here.”

“I’ve got this, go,” Grey waved a hand at them, the bulk of his attention still on Angelique, while Destiny planted herself by the door to keep watch on the treeline.

“S.I.G.” Ochre nodded, reaching for his boot knife. One slice cut the twine and he kept a firm grip on the remainder as a leash. “Bedrooms, c’mon Rhapsody.”

The walk to the untouched spare bedroom that had been intended for Rhapsody was quick and they soon had the young man seated on the bed while the two of them closed and blocked the door.

Ochre crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the man. “Talk.”

“Our father, some years before the British Civil War, was a scientist, working for the English government.” Philippe began with a grim expression.

Rhapsody got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could guess where this was going.

“He and his team were investigating the idea of making super soldiers.” Philippe sighed and scrubbed his bound hands over his face. “I think he was inspired by our ancestors. You have seen our crest, yes?”

“Yes, I have, but get to the point!” the Angel demanded. “What happened to my friends? And what on earth happened to your brothers?”

“It is complicated. Fiendish even.” Philippe sighed again. “What they did was a stroke of genius, but in terrible hands. They delved into the idea of biological-based nanotechnology, effectively creating their own single-cell life form. They behave like little factories, pumping out targeted retroviruses to introduce the needed DNA and what he called ‘driver cells’ specialised for tasks: some attaching to glands to cause great hormone surges, others to activate stem cells and latent genes in bone, muscle, skin tissue and hair follicles to cause the changes into the beast. It also grants them accelerated healing to cover the damages caused by the change and whatever injuries they’d take in battle. After the war, when the new government was still sorting through the mess and started to become suspicious, he infected himself with the unfinished pathogen and fled to Canada and obscurity as a country doctor. He continued his research as best he could and later infected my brothers and I once we reached physical maturity.”

“But why aren’t you infected too?” Rhapsody asked. “And why are Blue and Scarlet different? They’re like the werewolves you see in movies – they have tails, the wolf-head, thick fur – but your brothers look like mangy strays in comparison, and Scarlet was even able to switch back for a little.” She took a few minutes to fill him in on what happened in the cave.

“Because it’s a biological organism,” was Philippe’s simple answer. “Over time it’s degraded. In any case, it was not complete, it was not stable when my father fled with it, and everyone has reacted differently. Our father could consciously control when he changed but he had only a partial change – claws and fur, increased muscle mass and some facial features. My brothers have a more complete change, but their change is involuntary, tied to their hormonal cycle, and it takes a good half hour for them to revert to human form at sunrise. They all changed as part of the fight or flight response, when adrenaline floods the body. It was the one piece of coding that our father’s team had completely finished before they were shut down.” Another hand scrub of his face. “It took in my brothers, but not in me. It could not integrate before my immune system removed it.” Philippe’s frown deepened. “But as for your friends, I am unsure how this happened. Their transformation is as my father envisaged it, a complete change, and they may learn to control it fully instead of having it turned on and off by the moon, sunrise and whatever feat of will your Captain Scarlet performed in the cave to talk to you.” He gave a shrug. “I am not sure why it is so. But I will investigate.”

“What about the infection? How was that done?” Ochre asked.

“By the bite. The mouth, warm and moist, is perfect for housing the infectious form of the organism and in the bite and the breaking of the tissues below it takes hold in the new host in moments. It cannot be transmitted by a kiss or shared food and drink as it is too fragile to survive long exposure to air or the protective measures of the skin’s surface. Only infected saliva on exposed tissue is enough to infect the unlucky one.”

Rhapsody’s eyes grew wide, seeing in her mind’s eye Scarlet’s ravaged arm and Blue’s cut finger as he tended to the hoary wound. If the bug was truly that infectious and with Paul’s retrometabolisim kicking in at the time, it could very well have repaired the defects in it, and it then spread to Adam. She forced herself back to the task at hand. “How do you fix it?”

“I have been researching that.” Philippe frowned, indicating in the general direction of the basement lab. “I have studied my father’s notes and worked for years to eliminate this abomination. I might, might have a cure, but I don’t dare test it on my brothers without being absolutely certain: one other thing my father put into it was the ability to adapt to develop resistance to antibiotics and antivirals. If it isn’t 100% effective, it will find a way around it and I will be back to square one.”

“... Okay then...” Ochre stared at the floorboards for a long minute to absorb all of that, then looked up at Philippe. “So what do we do now? How do we get them back here?”

“And can we reason with them?” Rhapsody asked. “Scarlet was able to think a little, that first time. He knew he needed to call for help, that he needed my emergency beacon and where it was hidden, and he didn’t hurt me, just chased me down so he could get it. But Blue...” she shivered at the memory. “He wasn’t like that. And your brothers...” she had to fight to not glare at Philippe, it wasn’t his fault. “They attacked us when our car broke down.”

“They... what?” Philippe swallowed hard, his eyes wide. “They attacked you? Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Philippe got to his feet and started pacing. “While our father was fully rational, they mostly have their minds when they are changed, they understand me and can communicate a little. I take them deep into the woods when they are due a change, so they can run and hunt animals, but they have never hurt anyone...never!”

“Well this time they did.” Rhapsody answered sharply, then in a gentler tone she went on to say “are you certain they haven’t lied to you about what they did?”

“I... I don’t know...” Philippe sat down on the edge of the bed again, seriously shaken by the news his brothers had hurt people. “I take them to the forest, they run off, I have a nap in the car, and when they come back I help them clean up and take care of them while they change back, then we all come home.” He shook his head. “I haven’t seen anything in the papers...” he trailed off.

“Okay. We move forward on the basis that they’re not rational,” Ochre decided. “It’s a safe assumption that your brothers are going to come back here, this is their turf, so they’ll want it back. We’ve got guns, but we need non-lethal traps too, leg snares, that sort of thing. Philippe, you’re a vet, got anything on site for drugging big animals?”

“I... yes, down in the lab, I have two dart guns there.” Philippe nodded. “And I have ketamine and xylazine, it will drop them within three to five minutes.”

“Good.” Ochre looked at Rhapsody. “We’re going to try for non-lethal, but we’ve got to have shoot-to-wound as an option as well. They’re gonna heal faster so that’ll reduce the risks, but we have to protect ourselves.”

Dianne immediately understood the unasked question – could she hurt the man she loved? “Understood,” she nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Ochre drew his knife again and cut the twine still binding Philippe’s wrists. “Let me be clear: I want to help you. I want to help your brothers, they’re your father’s victims too, and I want to help your grandmother. We’re going to do everything we can, but I need you to cooperate and I need you to understand that if they’ve gone wild, there may not be much we can do. Non-lethal is always going to be our first choice, but if they attack us, it might not be an available option.”

“I understand,” Philippe nodded gravely. “I will show you where I have the drugs and the dart guns.”

“Okay. After you’ve told your grandmother what you’ve just told us.” Ochre said as he stepped back and resheathed the knife.

“What?” Philippe stared at him.

Ochre crouched down to look him in the eye, “I get these are secrets you’ve been keeping for a long time now,” he began, remarkably gentle considering the circumstances, “but the secret’s out. She needs to know what’s going on.”

Philippe looked down, his jaw working and his hands clenching and unclenching. Finally he let out a sigh and brought his head back up. “You are right. I hate it, but you are right. I will tell her.”

“Thanks.” Ochre got up and together the three of them walked back into the lounge where Philippe repeated the tale to the others.

Outside, the storm had well and truly begun, raindrops coursing down the windows like little rivers. While they were gone someone had duct-taped some rubbish bags over the broken glass in the front door and it was rippling and billowing from the force of the wind.

When the briefing was over and everyone was up to speed, Grandmother Angelique swallowed hard and asked “Now what?” in a hoarse voice.

“Now?” Grey pointed at the kitchen. “Now we hunker down, fix our radio, get some food into us and wait to see what happens next.”

“I... I can take care of that,” Angelique pushed herself up off the couch. “Philippe, come and help me.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“Just something cold will do,” Ochre quickly spoke up. “Jam sandwiches, that sorta thing, easy to eat one-handed, and a quick sugar and carb hit.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Angelique nodded and started pulling things out of the pantry and fridge.

Grey leaned over to quietly ask “Ochre, why sandwiches?” If they had a choice between hot food and cold food, hot was always the first option.

“You remember that movie we all watched the other night, Dog Soldiers?” Rick murmured back.

“Yeah, why?”

“Remember the ‘tastes like pork’ scene?”

Grey blanched. In the movie, a squad of soldiers and a zoologist they’d picked up were attacked and chased by werewolves. They found their way to a remote farmhouse, discovering food left on the stove. They didn’t know what it was, but most of the group ate it anyway, commenting that it tasted like pork, and the werewolves (who were later revealed to be the family who lived in that farmhouse) were shown at the start to be hunting humans. “But...do you really think...?” he gestured in the direction of the kitchen area.

“Grey, we’re ten tropes deep into a real life horror movie. I’m not taking any chances.”

Brad blinked, grimaced, and nodded. “...good point.”

A watchful silence settled on the house as the storm continued to rage around them, making the log cabin creak and groan eerily. Grey set to work on the radio, Ochre made some leg-snares out of rope from the emergency kits – though they could only be placed after the storm died down – Rhapsody dozed on one of the couches, sandwiches and coffees were passed around, and Philippe sat next to Grey, checking over his dart guns and making sure they still worked. Most of the lights were turned off so they’d be able to see outside, barring a lamp for Grey and Philippe to use as a work light. As a precaution the fireplace was prepared with crumpled up newspaper, kindling and a log, but was left cold for now, and candles and matches were placed in strategic locations – yes, they had power right now, but it only took one tree falling the wrong way and that wouldn’t be an option any more, especially since getting to the generator meant going outside. Different people regularly checked through the various peepholes, but the only movement they could spy was the trees and bushes thrashing in the wind.

Hours ticked by and while the storm’s fury was starting to lessen – though if it was a lull or it was moving on, no one could tell – it was still very dark when Rhapsody woke up and took her turn on patrol. At the same time Philippe ducked into the basement lab to go through his father’s notes again, and Angelique followed him down there to see for herself what had been happening underneath her very nose. She had been told that the basement lock was broken and since they never used it and she’d hated the place since she was little, she hadn’t known what was in there.

The three Spectrum officers left in the lounge took it as an opportunity to have a quick chat to float some ideas without the two civilians listening in.

“You know,” Grey started, prying up a stubborn panel on the back of the radio with a beer bottle opener he’d grabbed from the kitchen, “there’s a really old story about werewolves that if someone who truly loved them called them by name, they’d change back.”

“Non, we are not putting Rhapsody out there as bait.” Destiny was very firm on that.

“Hell no, we’re not doing that,” Grey agreed. “But we’ve got a broken door we can yell through and I’m betting the twins love their grandma. If she calls for them, maybe they’ll come. If they do, I’m betting our two will be close behind.”

Ochre hummed his agreement. “And if they don’t when their grandma calls, I’m betting any of us could call our two in. They like us.”

“That’s true.” Grey nodded. He was about to say more when Rhapsody slipped back into the room, a borrowed rifle slung over her back.

“I saw something in the trees near the car,” she reported, “eyeshine. I don’t know who or what it was, just that it was a decent way off the ground.”

“S.I.G.” Grey got out from underneath his tangle of cables and parts, accepting the rifle that Destiny passed to him.

At the same time Ochre scooped up one of the dart guns, crossed to the basement and called down “Philippe, Mrs Tussod, close the trap door and stay down there.”

“No,” floated back up, preceding Philippe’s dark head as he climbed the stairs. “Grandmother will stay there, but I know how to shoot, you need me,” he said as he got out and lowered the trap door.

Ochre looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay.” He passed over his dart gun. “Take both of them and go up to the attic, if you have a chance you take the shot. Clear?”

“Clear.” Philippe nodded, taking the gun and picking up the other one on his way out of the lounge and to the converted attic space.

“Everyone else, spread out, sing out if you see anything,” Ochre said, finding himself a vantage point at one of the kitchen windows. It gave him a decent view of the clearing where the helicopter and the SUV sat, as well as part of the tumbledown barn.

A round of affirmatives answered him as everyone found their own lookouts, and the watchful silence sharpened to a knife’s keenness as they waited for the werewolves to make their next move. Now that the wind had died down they could clearly hear the old log cabin creak and groan as the logs subtly expanded and rubbed against each other from the moisture build up. It wasn’t much, but a movement of a millimetre or two tended to get big when it was spread across metres of pine logs.

Ochre filtered it out, his world narrowed down to what he could see through the slice in the black plastic garbage bag that smelled like paper ashes, and the weight of the rifle in his hands. “C’mon guys... come outta there in your right minds. Don’t make me shoot you. Please, don’t make me shoot you.” He was completely confident in his ability to shoot to wound, to clip the outer thigh or arm and hurt someone just enough to stop them, but he really didn’t want to have to do it. “I’d love some tranq or less-than-lethal rounds right about now...”

Movement.

The switch to the sniper’s breath control was automatic and he shifted his stance slightly in readiness.

“Under the helicopter.” Ochre was just loud enough to be heard by Grey, who was peeping through a lounge window, and Destiny in the bedroom closest to the kitchen. She passed it on to Philippe and Rhapsody, who was in the furthest bedroom.

The movement resolved into a hunched figure with over-long arms and legs, crawling underneath the helicopter. Even from here he could see the grey-brown fur and knew who it was. “One of the twins.”

Again the information was passed along.

More movement caught his eye and a second figure joined the first.

“Got both twins under the helicopter.”

A sudden gush of cold air whipped into the room just as Destiny passed on a message: “Philippe’s opening a window.”

Slowly, carefully, the twins crawled across the space between the helicopter and the house. Rick couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. They were twisted caricatures of what everyone imagined a werewolf to look like, and it looked like it hurt, a lot. Not only that, he could see they were scared and frightened. “I can’t really blame them, scary strangers invading your house? Of course they were going to panic. But they hurt my friends, can’t forget that,” Ochre reminded himself. He had to shift to a new peep hole as they got closer, calling out distances as they edged forward a few feet at a time.

The twins stopped maybe ten feet away from the house, crouched on their haunches and sniffing at the air.

“C’mon kid, take the shot, take the shot,” Ochre urged. It couldn’t have been a better set up if it’d been staged.

To his great relief he heard the sharp Ppphhut! Ppphhut! of the dart guns firing, the two misshapen werewolves yelped and flinched, feathered darts in their chests, but to his surprise they didn’t stagger like he’d expected. Instead, they turned and bolted for the tree line, vanishing into the shadows without a single hint of being hit with something as potent as ketamine.

He turned away from his peep hole. “Philippe! Why aren’t they falling down?” Ochre bellowed in the direction of the attic.

There were footsteps on the attic stairs, then the youngest brother reappeared in the kitchen doorway, the dart guns tucked under his arms. “Because I didn’t give them sedatives,” was the even-voiced answer.

“You... you gave them the cure, didn’t you?” Rhapsody appeared from her watch post, her eyes wide with horror.

“I did.” Philippe nodded.

“Can you make more of it?” Grey demanded, splitting his attention between his lookout and the youngest brother.

“No. The batch I made, the one that worked as a cure, it was an accident! I got something wrong, I don’t know what, but it killed the organism in petri dishes. I was trying to replicate the mistake, to make more of it for testing to make sure it wouldn’t kill my brothers too!” He turned pleading eyes on them. “You have to understand, I was desperate! They’ve started attacking other people! I couldn’t wait any longer, I had to save my brothers!”

“You idiot! We’ve got equipment at our base that could have analysed that stuff and figured it out! We’ve got doctors and specialists and everything who would have helped you! Now you’ve just sentenced two of our friends to your family’s curse!” Ochre got his temper back under control with visible effort. “Give me those and the actual sedative darts, then get your ass into that lab and put together every single note you made and any bottles or containers that the cure was in. We might, might be able to figure it out, but we need everything. You owe us that.”

“You are right, I do,” a subdued Philippe nodded as he handed over the dart guns and a case of darts.

Ochre was about to say more when Grey suddenly snapped his rifle to his shoulder and turned to face the hallway. “Philippe, did you shut the window?” he demanded in a hoarse whisper.

Philippe went white as a sheet. “... No... why?”

“I can smell wet dog, someone’s climbed up the side of the house. Philippe, get into the basement. Ochre, get one of those dart guns loaded,” Grey ordered, his eyes fixed on the dark throat of the stairway up to the attic.

Ochre was already doing so, his rifle slung over his back to free up his hands. The creak and thud told them Philippe had gone into the basement, but Destiny’s softly muttered “He’s in,” was a reassurance – right now trust was in short supply when it came to the youngest Duregard brother.

A second creak – this one from the attic, had Grey and Ochre carefully moving towards the attic staircase while the Angels turned, guns in hand, and found good spots to cover their backs. This was a perfect recipe for a flanking attack – someone attacking from a second point of entry while they were distracted by whoever was walking around upstairs.

Grey took in a deep breath and quickly ran the odds. Going upstairs was too risky, the stairwell was narrow, they’d have to go single file, and they’d be ripe to be picked off. They’d have to see if whoever was up there would come down to them. After a quick glance to confirm Ochre was ready, he called out a sharp “We know you’re up there! Come down, hands up!”

“Rrrrr?”

The deep querying noise was followed by two eyes that faintly shone in the light from the lounge. Slowly, carefully, a muddy, black-furred foot edged out of the shadows, followed by the second as a bedraggled and exhausted Scarlet carefully came about halfway down the staircase in a crouch, then stopped, crouched, and stayed there, his ears low and licking his muzzle in a canine expression of fear. Water was dripping off his fur to puddle on the wooden treads, and he looked like he’d been dragged backwards through a hedge.

“It’s him... but he’s scared now, not raging like he and Adam were earlier.” Brad realised, lowering his rifle. “He must have gone a bit nuts when that twin tried to get Dianne. Not that I blame him, I’d’ve lost it too if I saw one of those things about to pounce on someone I love. And knowing his terror of losing control of himself again, small wonder he’s so scared. Poor guy.”  “Paul?” he asked.

The great head nodded.

“Is Adam here too?”

The werewolf shook his head. “Nnnn.”

“Can you change back?”

“Nnnn.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

“Paul, where’s Adam?” Dianne asked, coming over to help.

The werewolf whimpered, upset. He put his hands together, then jerked them apart.

“You two got split up?” Rick asked, getting a nod in reply. “Couldn’t you sniff him out or something?”

Paul raised one hand and wriggled his fingers as he lowered it.

“Oh, the rain wiped out all the scents in the area?” Rick asked. “I’m guessing you couldn’t yell – or howl – for him over the wind?”

Another nod.

Dianne’s knowing look and comment of “and you’ve been tearing up the countryside looking for him?” got a third nod.

“Shouldn’t we go out and search for him?” Juliette asked, glancing between the group and the house.

Paul shook his head at the same time Brad declared “No, it’s too risky, not with the twins still loose. We have no idea how long that cure’s going to take to kick in, if at all. Help’s going to come here, and if Scarlet could find his way here, Blue will too. C’mon,” he reached out and helped Paul to his feet, “let’s get you dried off.”

By mutual agreement Paul was passed into Dianne’s care. A visit to the bathroom and almost all of the towels got Paul mostly clean and dried off, a hunk of cheese made for a welcome meal, then he was curled up on his side on the rug in front of the cold fireplace, his head pillowed on his arm for a much needed nap.

At the same time the attic window was securely shut, and the others spread themselves out again to keep watch for Adam and the twins. The loaded dart guns were left on the kitchen island, ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice if they did return. An attempt was made to ask Philippe for his opinion on why Scarlet couldn’t shift back, but the younger man had taken one peek out of the trapdoor, seen him, and slammed it shut. Going by the muffled shriek from Angelique a moment later she clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near the werewolf, which was fair enough.

As they settled back into the pattern of the watch, the storm started to pick up again, the wind howling down the chimney stack. A flicker from the lamp in the lounge was another reminder of the fragility of their infrastructure, so candles were lit and the light was turned off.

Ochre was looking through his favourite kitchen peephole when Grey came over to get a glass of water. “So,” he asked as he filled the cup from the tap, “how many tropes are we up to now?”

Rick cracked a smile. “Well, we just had a betrayal, so that’s at least eleven.”

“ ‘Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal’,” Brad quoted, then drained his glass with three gulps.

“Huh, never figured you for a brown coat,” Rick went back to checking the area outside.

“Blame my cool uncle, his house was full of the weirdest stuff, he collected vintage sci-fi and fantasy.” Brad put the glass in the dishwasher. “He had an original One Ring replica made by the jewellers for the 2000’s movies and a homemade Dalek guarding the front door.”

“I like him already.” Rick moved to another window. “Hey, question.”

“Answer,” Brad quipped back.

“Ha ha. But seriously, fixing Scarlet and Blue, theoretically Scarlet’s retrometabolisim should be able to clear out the bug and ‘reset’ him back to normal, right?” Rick asked. “But he got hurt during the fight. That’s healed but he’s still fluffy.”

He ignored the offended ‘wh-huff’ from Scarlet (who obviously wasn’t as asleep as they’d thought) at being called ‘fluffy’.

“Maybe it wasn’t big enough and the nano-whatsits kicked in first,” Brad pointed out, “Philippe did say that the nano-thingies were also designed to heal the host.”

“So if Scarlet gets hurt badly enough he might fix himself?” Rick ventured, getting a nod in return.

“Maybe.” Brad shifted uneasily, unwitting to commit to agreeing to something like that, then his expression changed as something else occurred to him. “Ochre... Philippe and Angelique have been down there and unsupervised for a while now and it’s gotten quiet – he ginned up the cure darts last time we left him alone in there.”

“Oh hell, you’re right.” Ochre moved towards the closed trap door. “I’m pretty sure there’s a trope about leaving someone alone in a mad scientist’s lab, and then there’s one I’m really scared about.”

“What’s that?” Grey asked, coming around to the other side of the trap door. A scrape of claws against wood was Scarlet getting up to help investigate, ears tipped forward and nose twitching as he scented the air.

Ochre looked at them both, his mouth set in a grim line. “Humans are the real monsters.”

“Fingers crossed we’re not ticking that one off,” Grey responded, then reached out and knocked on the trap door.

The ‘Yes?’ from Philippe was muffled by the wood.

“Just making sure you two are okay in there.” Grey did a very good job of being nonchalant. “Need anything? Food? Tea? Coffee?”

“Uh...” There was some muted banging and thudding. “Actually there’s something I need.”

They all got well back from the trap door as Philippe pushed it open from underneath. A little chain kept it from going all the way back as the younger man climbed out. That he was clearly nervous and manoeuvred himself to be as far away from Scarlet as possible was understandable...

“... But something’s off,” Ochre thought to himself. “Something’s way off.”

He was about to call Philippe on it when Scarlet laid his ears back and growled and in the same instant Philippe moved. Quick as a wink, the other man twisted behind him, got one arm around his chest and the other raised something that flashed in the candlelight. The feel of something sharp and hard pressed against his throat instantly told him what it was – a knife of some sort – and he froze. “Grey, Scarlet, stand down!” he ordered, seeing them tense in preparation to move. “Of course he’s quick, he’s a vet, he’s always having to dodge animals wanting to kick or bite or claw him! Stupid! Never underestimate a civvie!”

A clatter of boots was the Angels, alerted by the noise. They stopped at the kitchen door, eyes narrowed and hands lingering close to their guns.

“Where’s Angelique?” Rhapsody’s voice was hard, having counted the group and come one short.

“Asleep,” Philippe’s expression softened for a moment. “She was having a panic attack, so I sedated her.” Then the moment was gone and he was looking at the black-furred werewolf. “Now, Captain Scarlet, you and Captain Ochre and I are going to go outside together. The rest of you are going to stay here. Do what I say and I won’t hurt Captain Ochre.”

His intent was immediately clear to the others.

There was only one reason why he’d specifically ask for Captain Scarlet.

“I thought you wanted to cure this! To get rid of it!” Rhapsody countered. “You cured your brothers, it’s over! Put the scalpel down and let Ochre go.”

“I did want to cure my brothers!” Philippe snapped at her. “You saw them! Every minute they are changed, they suffer, but now...” His eyes slid back to Scarlet. “My father’s dream, le loupe rouge, has been perfected. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I and my brothers will have my father’s legacy.”

Dianne’s mind worked at lightning speed, marrying up what they’d been told with what she knew about the quirks of the human psyche under pressure. “His father was a mad scientist obsessed enough to inject himself with an unfinished bio-weapon and then infect his sons with it. I can’t imagine Joshua Duregard would have treated Philippe – the ‘failure’ – as well as Jacques and Michael. Now, the wounded, neglected and rejected son is seeing someone else with what his father had made... small wonder he’s jumped at the chance to have what his own immune system denied him. On top of all of that, he’ll have been living with these secrets for years, then to his shock his brothers don’t just attack people, they attack Spectrum, bringing them all to our attention, so he’s terrified to boot... I wonder if he intends to follow in his father’s pattern – get the infection, then flee to somewhere else to live in obscurity.” “Philippe,” she tried, “we don’t know if it’ll work, you could end up like your brothers or worse!”

“NO!” Philippe snapped. “Open the door! Now!”

“Philippe,” Ochre was ice calm despite the scalpel at his throat, “you’ve forgotten there’s another werewolf out there – Captain Blue – and he’ll be pissed off if he sees you threatening me.”

“That’s a risk I am willing to take.” His eyes narrowed and he shifted his grip on Ochre. “Door.”

“Do it,” Ochre commanded. Out of Philippe’s sight, he quickly moved his fingers in manual Morse, telling them what to do: obey, set ambush.

Grey and Destiny were the ones to drag the heavy table out of the way, then unlocking the grille and the door while Rhapsody watched for any opportunities. There was a vague hope that he might be unwary enough to let them get in a position to disable him, but he pivoted enough that he could keep an eye on all of them while still keeping the knife to Ochre’s throat.

Once the door was unblocked and open and they were out of the way, Philippe backed towards the door and into the rain. “Captain Scarlet, come with us, now.”

A rip-saw, rumbling growl started up low in Scarlet’s chest as he followed them out the door, then he laid his ears back and barked once, a harsh sound.

“See, that’s Scarlet-talk for ‘this isn’t going to end well for you’,” Ochre pointed out. “Because it’s not. You’re on your own with no transport, no comms and your only ace in the hole is me. As soon as you lose me, you’ve got three pissed off special agents and two pissed off werewolves coming after you, and you can only see one of the werewolves. It’s the predator you don’t see that you need to be scared of.”

“They’ll be too busy to bother with me,” Philippe snapped.

“Oh great.” Ochre put as much of an eye roll into his voice as he could. The more he could distract the nut-job, the bigger the delay, and the bigger the delay, the higher the chances the others would be able to grab the dart guns, circle around and ambush him. “So, what, you’ll get Scarlet to nip you then you’ll shank me as a distraction while you run off into the trees?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a really bad idea, you know that, right? Since when does that ever work in the movies?”

“Since this isn’t a movie, it will.”

“Pal, with you providing the shock twist just now we’re at least twelve tropes deep into a horror movie. Art, life, imitate. You really wanna risk it?” Blinking the rain out of his eyes and feeling the cold start to set in, Ochre was running out of things to say when Scarlet’s ears suddenly flicked forward, the threatening rumble started up again and his attention moved away from Philippe and up to the tree line. Rick was worried for a second, then the thick black tail wagged, the rumble died and Scarlet turned his attention back to Philippe, his lip curling and head tilting in a surprisingly human smirk. “Backup?”

Scarlet nodded, flexing claw tipped hands and taking a step forward. The pale werewolf was surprisingly well camouflaged amongst the pale trunks of the birch trees, but he’d spotted Adam approaching, shepherding what could only be the twins, and knew Adam would size up the situation and respond appropriately.

If only it was easier to think! He knew what he wanted to do – stop the threat to his friend – but consciously putting together the steps to do so? It was like swimming upstream.

Paul shook the rain off his head. Stuff it. Time to wing things.

Despite his bravado, Philippe was oozing fear.

The predator in him knew exactly what to do with fear.

The low, rumbling growl got wide eyes fixed on him, and Philippe’s hands were trembling from more than just the cold. The human cringed back, dragging his hostage with him, and Scarlet took another step forwards, lips pulled back from his teeth, hackles raised and arms spread, ready to pounce, to grasp and rend and tear.

“Philippe.” Ochre’s calm voice didn’t so much as cut the tension as it temporarily diverted it, opening up another path. “Put down the knife, Philippe. I meant what I said before. We want to help you. We want to help your family. You’re all victims of your father. Please, let us help.”

The falling rain was a steady drumbeat, a contrast to Philippe’s panicked breathing. Scarlet watched the expressions flickering across the man’s face – fear, distress, panic - then his mouth set and the expressions changed to resignation, defeat... and strangely enough a little hope.

Moving slowly and deliberately, Philippe took the scalpel away from Ochre’s throat, held out his arm, and dropped it into the mud.

Scarlet quickly grabbed Rick and yanked him away, shoving him firmly behind himself just in case Philippe changed his mind, but the younger man just sank to the sodden ground.

“Philippe!”

Mud splashed and two men who could only be the twins raced through the grass towards their younger brother, while Adam strode up just behind them. The rest of the team emerged from their hiding spots at the sides of the house at the same time the twins collapsed to their knees on either side of their brother, their arms wrapped around him and heads pressed close in a triune hug.

“Is everyone...” Grey started, but stopped and swung his rifle into position when the two werewolves suddenly turned towards the driveway, ears swivelling forwards. A moment of listening, then almost at the same time they relaxed.

The rest of them heard it a second later – the deep, throaty engine noises of a convoy of Spectrum Pursuit vehicles.

The lead SPV stopped by the wrecked car, the side door opened and Magenta stuck his head out, looking at the group with wide eyes. “...well this is new.”

Both werewolves let out a snort.

“Come on,” Ochre pointed to the house. “Let’s get inside, we’ve got a lot to brief you on.”

Half a day later, Colonel White peeped through the gap left in the partially drawn curtains over the observation window of Sickbay’s isolation ward. The lights had been dimmed, but he could see enough to spot the two piles of fur that were Scarlet and Blue, curled up and fast asleep on the bedding stripped from the usual beds because they were simply too big to comfortably fit on them. “It’s good to see them resting, but I’m quite sure the two of them will shortly be scheming about how to get their revenge.” Somehow or other, Magenta and Ochre had put their heads together and arranged for Scarlet and Blue’s meals to be delivered in brightly coloured dog bowls. They had been thoroughly snarled at for that, but the gleeful cackles of ‘worth it!’ had gone a long way to easing the undercurrent of ‘how on earth are we going to fix this?’ that had threaded Sickbay when the medical helicopter had landed.

Satisfied that his officers were resting comfortably, White stepped back and continued on his rounds of Medical, busy work to keep himself occupied as he waited for his appointed meeting time with the CMO – he’d arrived early, but Fawn tended to get testy with anyone ‘badgering’ him.

There had been many, many questions when the team returned to Cloudbase, but he was very, very glad to know that those questions were being answered one by one.

The question of why they were still in werewolf form, when put to the CMO for theories, had been answered with a blink and ‘isn’t it obvious? They changed back at sunrise last time, Philippe said that that was the protocol, and between time zones and the flight over they haven’t had another sunrise yet,’ – which made a great deal of sense. The question of why Blue had reacted so aggressively to Rhapsody that first time also had a simple answer – she’d had Scarlet’s blood on her, blood that the other werewolf had scented long before he saw her, so it was small wonder that the beast had assumed the worst. “And hopefully, the question of how to return them to normal will soon be answered as well,” White mused, casting his mind over the most recent update he’d gotten on that front.

The arriving rescue convoy had swarmed the house and collected and collated every scrap of information that could be found. Philippe had thankfully kept his promise and set aside his information on the cure and the bottle used to store it, so that was bagged up and brought along with his returning officers. As for the family, they’d been ensconced in a Spectrum safe house in Montreal and a bevy of specialists and personnel from Spectrum Medical were being shipped in to both monitor the twins and help them all come to terms with what had happened. All going well, they’d be released back to their cleaned up and repaired house in a month or two. There would be continued monitoring of course, discreet and from long range, they couldn’t simply be cut loose, not with what had happened, but they’d do their best to be unobtrusive.

White exchanged nods with a passing technician and returned to his wanderings, doing his best to stay out of people’s way. Though the problem of how to cure his officers was being solved, there was another one that he was grappling with: what to do with Joshua Duregard’s research. “The genie is already out of the bottle, now I must do what I can to keep it contained. I can name several persons in the World Government who would be stupid enough to want to see this research continued... speaking of, we’ll need to track down the rest of Duregard’s team, to ensure that they don’t get the bright idea of trying to re-create this madness. If there is a next time... we may not be so lucky.” He checked his watch. “But that is for later.”

Turning on his heel, he strode towards Fawn’s office, tapped the intercom and at the distracted ‘Come in’, let himself through the door.

His timing appeared to be perfect as Fawn was just sitting down with a folder in hand. “Gimme a sec,” Fawn said, glancing up as he opened the folder. “Just got the analysis back of the cure.”

“S.I.G.” White sat down in the visitors chair while Fawn read over the results.

Papers were shuffled, different points on graphs of chemical components were thoughtfully tapped and hummed over, then to his surprise, Fawn groaned, put the folder down on his desk and rubbed his eyes with forefinger and thumb. He finished the display of vexation with an exasperated sigh. “You’re not going to believe this.”

White quirked an eyebrow. “Try me.”

“Silver nanoparticles. He accidentally created silver nanoparticles. That’s the key component of the cure.” Fawn rubbed his brow. “Make sense, silver is a known antimicrobial agent, but the irony, I mean, come on. Werewolves, and silver is the cure.”

“Perhaps it is poetic instead of ironic,” White remarked with a hint of a smile. “The world works in mysterious ways after all.”

“It really, really does.” Fawn shook his head and picked up the file. “Right. I’ve got medicine to make and two overgrown mutts to give shots to. Someone will call you when there’s something to report.”

Colonel White hid his amusement at ‘overgrown mutts’. “S.I.G., Doctor Fawn,” White told him as he rose. “I’ll await your report.”

Epilogue

Today’s storm had been a fierce but short-lived thing. It’d been just enough to need a course correction, but not so bad that they needed to batten down the hatches, and it finished just in time for the sun to dye the tattered remnants with shades of red and orange.

“The aftermath of a storm always seems to make for the most brilliant sunsets,” Dianne murmured, “but I’ve always wondered if it’s because of the storm itself, or the dreariness of the clouds and the rain making us appreciate the colour and spectacle just that bit more.”

“Mm,” Paul hummed his agreement and cuddled his Angel closer, just because he could. “Maybe it’s both? We need the clouds to see most of the colour in the first place.”

“I like that.” Dianne turned in his arms to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Paul smiled and settled back, enjoying the moment of peace. The treatment had been a complete success, quickly purging the foreign DNA from their bodies. He and Adam had finally been released from Sickbay after two days of testing and monitoring to make sure that they were indeed completely freed from the nano-bug that had made their lives so interesting.

Once they were released, finding their respective Angels and withdrawing for some mutual comforting and cosseting had been a natural choice. Adam and Karen were either in his room or her’s for some privacy, and he and Dianne had tucked themselves away in a corner of the Promenade deck, hidden in a corner behind a trellis thick with climbing roses. He was sitting with his back against the wall and Dianne was sitting in front of him, her back against his chest, his arms around her, and her hands atop his so they could watch the sunset together.

“Did Rick get together a final tally of all the tropes we hit that night?” Paul asked.

“Yes,” and he could hear Dianne’s smile as she started the list. “He decided we hit sixteen all up. Car breakdown, family artefact that’s the source of the trouble, group of four or five characters, isolated farm location, encounter at night with the monster, comms trouble, no transport, secret lab, bad weather, super soldier experiments, ‘but they’d never hurt anyone’, betrayal, leaving someone alone in a lab, shock twist, humans are the real monsters and hostage held at knifepoint.”

“Quite a list,” Paul kissed the top of her head. “I’m very, very glad we didn’t have the tropes ‘last man standing’ or ‘last girl left alive’.”

“Me too.”

They sat in silence for a time, then as the reds and oranges faded into pinks and golds. The sunset had deepened into the purpling blues of night when Dianne ventured a soft “Paul?”

“Yes?” He kissed the top of her head, just because he could.

“What was it like, that first time you changed?”

Paul frowned, struggling to find the words for his experience. “I’m not entirely sure,” he said at last. “It was so strange. I woke up and I knew something was wrong but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I knew I had to get help and that you had the way to get that help and that it was in your pocket, but I couldn’t name or describe what exactly I was after, just that it was the thing I needed. I couldn’t even name you at the time, I just knew you had the thing needed to get help from the place where we came from.” He shook his head and grimaced. “The fact that my body was different didn’t even register. Right now, back to normal, I can tell you that I knew I needed to get back to Cloudbase and go to Medical and that you had the last emergency beacon to call for help since the comms were down, but at that time I couldn’t process those concepts, it was just beyond me. I knew what had to happen, and that was about it.”

“Huh.” She mulled that over for a minute or two, then shifted and turned so she was sitting across his lap, her arms loosely draped around his neck as she gave him a look he instantly recognised. “Paul, I know that wasn’t the only thing going through that head of yours.”

Paul ducked his head slightly and blushed. “You’re right about that,” he admitted. “There was one thought I did not have any trouble with when I saw you.” He looked at her, blue eyes intense and his voice dropping to a seductive growl. “Mine.”

Dianne also blushed, then leaned in and kissed him, a deep and lingering one that left him dazed. “Yes...”

Paul groaned softly and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Can I have another one of those?” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers.

“As many as you want, love,” Dianne murmured back, then kissed him again.