DISCLAIMER : All Buffy : The Vampire Slayer and Angel characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox Studios. No copyright infringement intended, just a chance to share with my fellow fans and absolutely no money profit is gained on the part of the author. Prior to the Buffy episode 'The I in Team' (i.e. Season four).
RATING: PG-13.
SUMMARY : Angel and the Initiative start to work together while Buffy is still searching for him.

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BC : BEFORE CHILDREN by Brightbear
Chapter Four - Quid Pro Quo

"How are your boys this morning?"
"They're fine."
Dr Walsh settled herself into a chair opposite Angel in the small research lab. Dr Walsh had managed to keep her voice firm but her furtive glances towards Angel betrayed her.
"You seem well this morning," she said conversationally.

It was so true, Dr Walsh found herself forced to hide a self-satisfied smirk. Although she didn't make a habit of caring for convalescent vampires, the treatment she had practically devised overnight had worked. No one ever said Maggie Walsh never took pride in her work but if asked she would admit that she wasn't solely responsible for his recovery. For two days Angel had been pale, sickly and restrained to the bed. After they had made a deal to exchange information for freedom of movement, a change seemed to have come over him. His eyes were alert and intensely curious as if he hadn't seen the room properly before. He'd propped up the pillows so that he could sit facing her.

"All right," said Dr Walsh. "We've fulfilled our part of the deal, now it's your turn."
"Ask away," said Angel pleasantly.
As Dr Walsh looked down at her clipboard and the list of questions that she and her fellow scientists had come up with, Angel pulled at the fabric of the khaki turtleneck which he'd borrowed. It didn't quite fit him properly but his own shirt had been shredded by the blow from the axe. He was better at hiding his uncertainty than Dr Walsh had been.

"We know humans can be turned, resurrected as vampires," said Dr Walsh, reading aloud. "Were all vampires originally human?"
"Yes," said Angel. "That's what vampires are. Human-demon hybrids."
"Hybrids?" frowned Dr Walsh.
She paused in the act of writing down his answer, "Where did you get that from?"
"Other vampires, demons, ancient texts," said Angel. "It's part of history. Before mankind was established, the demons existed here. Later, they retreated to another dimension and mortal animals took their place. According to legend, the last demon to leave this reality fed from a human. The demon mixed it's blood with the human and this was the first vampire. A human possessed. He bit another who bit another and so on and so forth."

Dr Walsh had leant forward as she was drawn in by Angel's mesmerising tone. She held his gaze for a moment before he spoke again.
"Satisfied?" Angel's tone was once again playful and it broke the atmosphere he'd created.
Dr Walsh blinked before leaning back again in her chair.
She smiled at Angel, "Not with the details, it's quite a layered mythology but the hybrid theory was fascinating."
"Well, I aim to please," smiled Angel. "Well, actually, I aim to escape but this'll do in the meantime."
Dr Walsh closed her clipboard and leaned forward, "So, all vampires were human once, as far as you know?"
"Yes."
"Including you?"
Angel paused, his smile fading a bit, "Yes."

This was new territory for Dr Walsh, it opened up a whole new line of questioning.
"What were you before you were a vampire?" she asked him directly.
"A drunk Irishman," answered Angel, the impish smile returning.
"Really?" asked Dr Walsh surprised. "You don't have much of an accent."
Angel shrugged, "It's been a long time since I've been in Ireland."
"How long?" asked Dr Walsh.
"Long enough."

Dr Walsh's expression became serious, "How old are you, exactly?"
"Guess," said Angel playfully.
"All I can tell is how old you were when you died," said Dr Walsh, starting to sound annoyed.
"But do you really need to know anything else?" said Angel, avoiding the question.
"Humour me," said Dr Walsh.
"No."

At the flat out refusal, Dr Walsh suppressed her anger, "We made an agreement."
Angel shook his head, "I agreed to give you information about demons - not myself."
"You are a demon..." began Dr Walsh but then saw from Angel's expression that the argument would be unsuccessful.
Dr Walsh changed tactics, "Why won't you tell me? What are you hiding?"
"Nothing," protested Angel. "I just don't think it's any of your business."
"How old are you?" repeated Dr Walsh.
"How old are you?" countered Angel.
"Thirty-two," answered Dr Walsh quickly.
"Ah... damn," said Angel. "You weren't supposed to answer that."

"So sorry," said Dr Walsh with mock sympathy. "But now it's your turn."
Angel looked away and muttered something behind his hand.
"What was that?" asked Dr Walsh loudly. "I didn't quite hear you."
"Two hundred and forty-four... happy now?" Angel answered sullenly.
Dr Walsh realised her mouth was hanging open slightly and she promptly shut it.
"Well, ah... thankyou," she muttered.
"Yeah," said Angel.

***

"Hey, guys," Riley called in greeting, wading through the crowded Bronze dance floor. Buffy trailed along behind him, a forced smile on her lips.
"Riley," called Graham. "Glad you could make it, man."
"Thanks. How are things with you guys?" said Riley.
There was a general murmur of replies.
"Oh, you guys all know Buffy... Buffy this is Kevin, Jay, Graham and Forrest."
"Oh, hi," said Buffy, a little distantly.
Riley laughed nervously, "You guys want a drink? I'll buy."

The guys shouted their orders and Riley joined the queue at the counter.
"Now that's the kind of friend everyone needs," quipped Jay.
Buffy stood there, looking miserable. Her arms were folded, her shoulders hunched and her face hidden behind her hair.
"You come here often, Buffy?" began Graham, trying to be conversational.
"I'm fine," said Buffy, not even hearing the question.
"Is something wrong?" asked Forrest.
"Wrong? No, what would be wrong?" asked Buffy, attempting an innocent expression.
"Here you go, guys," said Riley, bringing back an armful of drinks.

The guys relieved Riley of his burden, leaving him with two glasses of coke.
"Buffy?" he asked gently, handing her one.
"I didn't ask for a drink," frowned Buffy.
"I know. I got you one anyway."
"Oh."

Buffy took the glass and began to suck absent-mindedly at the straw.
"I thought coke might bring out the flavour of the cyanide ice cubes," said Riley quietly.
"Oh, good," answered Buffy distantly.
Graham and Forrest exchanged looks.
"Riley, man, you hear about the Alpha Delt party this Tuesday?" asked Kevin.
"Excuse me," interrupted Buffy. "What did you say about the ice cubes?"
Riley smiled politely, "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
Buffy nodded but still looked confused, "Oh, sorry."

"I can't," said Riley, in answer to Kevin's question. "The Professor's got me down for patrol. It's odd, she seems so busy lately. Do you guys know what's going on?"
Forrest shrugged, "The Professor has herself a new project. In fact, she spends so much time on it, Dr Inggelman has started giving us mission debriefs."
"Riley," said Buffy quietly. "I'm not feeling too well, I'm just going to go home, okay?"
"No," said Riley.
"What?" asked Buffy in surprise.
"You're not going home," said Riley, before turning to his friends. "Just a minute, guys."

Riley took Buffy's hand and dragged her out onto the dance floor, "I hoped it wouldn't come to this."
Buffy tried to pull away again but Riley pulled her back.
"Riley, man, don't do it!" shouted Forrest in the background.
"Face it, Riley, you can't dance!" echoed Kevin.
"If this is what it takes, then this is what it takes," said Riley solemnly.

Riley took a deep breath and tried to hide the nerves he felt. He grabbed Buffy's hand and spun her out in a pirouette. Ignoring Buffy's cry of surprise, Riley spun her around again. Before Buffy realised it, they were dancing the tango to a techno song. And they weren't doing it well. Riley had to catch Buffy several times before she lost her balance and they kept kicking each other's feet. By the end of the song, Buffy was laughing uncontrollably at their own uncoordinated attempts to dance.

"Oh, wait a minute," she gasped, pushing away. "I have a stitch."
They were both still laughing as they staggered off the dance floor.
"Oh my god," said Buffy when she had recovered her composure. "You made a complete fool of yourself."
"I know," grinned Riley sheepishly. "But it's worth it to hear you laugh again."
"Oh," sighed Buffy, depressing thoughts resurfacing again. "You're right. Angel has been gone for almost a week and I need to get on with my life. I need to accept that Angel is dead... and I'm not."
Riley put his arm around her shoulder, "You're sure you're okay?"
"I'll be fine... this time for real."

Smiling, they joined Riley friends who spent the next half an hour ragging Riley on his dancing ability but it only took a few minutes for Buffy to join in the laughter.
Jay tapped Graham on the elbow, "I have got to remember that the next time my girl's depressed."
Graham agreed and then went back to watching Forrest and Buffy kidding around. Riley stayed near her the whole night but Graham could have told him he didn't need to. The black cloud had been lifted and Buffy didn't seem as much of a threat to their trio of friends as she had before. In the back of his mind, however, something was bothering Graham. He knew better than to say it out loud but he was thinking about Buffy's fighting style, wondering where she had been taught and more specifically, who else fought her way.

***

Angel was walking around his cell, experimentally. He winced occasionally and held his side. There was a beep and the door opened. He seemed almost pleased when Dr Walsh came in.
"How are your boys this morning?" asked Angel directly.
"They're good," answered Professor Walsh.
Dr Inggelman followed her in, staying a good distance behind her and away from Angel.
"Why don't you sit down?" asked Dr Walsh politely.

Angel sat down on the edge of the bed, grimacing at the pain it caused.
"How are your injuries today?" asked Dr Walsh.
"Getting better," said Angel.
He stopped and smiled mischievously, "What's today's question?"
Dr Walsh smiled back and referred to her notebook. Before she could answer, Dr Inggelman read it out for her.

"If there is a method for altering a vampire's... personality," began Dr Inggelman, not too sure of his choice of words. "Are there many other vampires like you, out there?
Angel shook his head, "Vampires, no, but there are plenty of peaceful demons."
"Demons?" asked Dr Walsh.
Before Angel could continue, Dr Inggelman interrupted again.

"Are you saying you're the only peaceful vampire out there?" he asked.
Angel nodded, "Vampires are humans that are already dead so there's a demon calling the shots - controlling the body. Seeing as pure demons aim to bring back the old ones, they're not too friendly to creatures they consider beneath them."
"You didn't quite answer my question. According to your story, you being peaceful seems an even more improbable scenario," said Dr Inggelman.
Angel narrowed his eyes slightly before answering, "I said a demon takes control of the dead body, takes over the mind. There's a good reason that the demon waits until the person is dead first."
"And why is that?" asked Dr Inggelman.
"Because they know, unlike some demons, they don't have enough strength to fully possess the soul of a living human. Once the person is dead, there's no soul, no competition for control of the body. Most people don't consider what would happen if the demon soul and a human soul somehow inhabited the same body," said Angel, finishing softly.

"That which makes us human overpowers the demon?" guessed Dr Walsh, sounding a little awed.
Angel nodded, "Makes for one hell of a multiple personality."
"Fascinating," said Dr Inggelman dryly.
Angel narrowed his eyes again at Dr Inggelman, "That it?"

Dr Walsh stirred from her position, "Ah, no. Just a brief question, we know that vampires sometimes form nests to make hunting easier but is there any family group or clan that they belong to or are they all independent of each other?"
Angel shrugged, "Depends. The vampire that sires you will usually only do so if they are prepared to have you around. They don't do it carelessly, they just kill most people they feed off. Most sires have close relationships with vampires they've created."
"A sire?" asked Dr Walsh. "A vampire that creates another vampire? Like a parent-child relationship?"
Angel smiled, "Not quite. Sire's often care about their offspring but it's no accident that most of their victims are of the opposite sex. More often than not they're looking for a lover, not a child."

Dr Inggelman shuddered at the thought, "What about you?"
"What about me?" asked Angel levelly.
"You had a sire, I presume?" asked Dr Inggelman. "What was she like?"
"She was very powerful - vampires tend to pass that on it their blood. The stronger the sire, the stronger the offspring," answered Angel cautiously.
"That makes you strong?" asked Dr Inggelman in disbelief.
"I can look after myself," admitted Angel modestly.

"So, I've heard," said Dr Walsh. "My boys told me you single handedly killed at least three or four Kuria... sorry, Atashak demons."
"Why do you insist on calling them Atashak demons?" asked Dr Inggelman impatiently.
"Because," Angel answered, equally impatient. "That's what they're called. Just because you didn't realise they existed, doesn't mean you made an earth-shattering discovery. There are probably hundreds of demons you don't know about and they're all already written down, on paper. You just have to be bothered reading the right books."
"Books?" asked Dr Walsh. "What books?"
Angel shrugged, "Ancient texts, prophecies, legends, religious volumes. Places you would never think to look."

Dr Walsh made a note on her page.
"What does your sire do now? She peaceful too?" asked Dr Inggelman, changing the topic.
Angel looked away for a minute. When he looked back, his face was almost unreadable.
"No, she's not. I made a human friend, my sire didn't approve. I had to make a choice," Angel shrugged sadly.
Dr Inggelman sent a disapproving glance to Dr Walsh but Dr Walsh's expression was more sympathetic than he expected or approved of.

***

Willow and Tara were walking through the common room of the main student dormitory.
"She's giving up hope?" asked Tara, surprised.
Willow sighed, "I don't know. Angel does have this habit of disappearing but... he did promise to meet her and to not show up... If Buffy wants to take down the missing posters, it's really her business and that's what we should do."

Tara looked at the pile of sheets they'd already collected from various pin-up boards around the university.
"Why is it a photo of the two of them?" asked Tara.
"That's Buffy and Angel's graduation photo. Angel doesn't like cameras, in fact, avoids them like the plague, not to mention the whole night thing... you'd have to use a camera with a flash," explained Willow. "It's the only photo Buffy has with him in it."
Tara smiled, "I like her dress."

A Frisbee sailed past Willow's ear and Forrest knocked into her on his way to retrieve it.
"Sorry, ladies," he smiled, sending the Frisbee back across the room.
Forrest's pass was wide and Graham dived in a an attempt to catch it. Graham collided with a pin-up board by the door and was showered with falling pamphlets.
Forrest laughed, "Hey, with blocking ability like that - we should ask the board to play!"
"Are you alright?" asked Willow, walking over to Graham.
Graham swatted fliers away from his face, "Yeah, thanks."
Willow extended a hand to help him up and he took it gratefully. Tara and Willow began to collect the loose papers and pin them back on the board. Graham was reaching down to pick up a pamphlet when something caught his eye. He slipped a piece of paper into his pocket and helped the girls finish the job.

"Thanks," Graham said to them before heading over to Forrest.
"Now that was funny...," began Forrest.
He saw Graham's serious expression, "What's up?"
"I think we should go see the Professor," said Graham.
Without another wisecrack, a curious Forrest followed a determined Graham.

Behind them, Willow was still standing by the pin-up board.
"I could have sworn I put a poster on this board," she told Tara. "I can't collect it if I can't find it."
"Maybe Xander or Buffy picked it up already?" suggested Tara.
"Maybe," agreed Willow dubiously. "Oh, what the hell, it's just a missing person poster. It's not like the world is going to end."

***

Dr Walsh was sitting at her workspace, daydreaming. That in itself was unusual. Forrest and Graham approached her nervously.
"Dr Walsh?" asked Forrest.
"Hmm? Sorry, how can I help you?" asked Dr Walsh with a start.
"We thought you might like to see this," said Graham, handing her the piece of paper he'd hidden in his pocket.
Dr Walsh frowned and read the heading out loud, "Have you seen this man?"

Underneath the heading was a photograph of hostile 23 (in a tuxedo) with his arms around Riley's girlfriend. Dr Walsh looked back up at Forrest and Graham.
"Where did you get this?" she demanded, fighting an unreasonable feeling of betrayal.
"The pin-up board opposite the cafeteria," answered Graham. "We checked the other boards but this was the only one we could find."
Dr Walsh stood up, still gazing intently at the photograph.
"We don't know how long ago that was taken," said Forrest. "He might not be a vampire in that photo."

Dr Walsh looked at Forrest, straining to keep the hurt from her voice, "I think he was a vampire long before the Slayer was even born."
Forrest and Graham exchanged puzzled looks.
"Buffy fits the description the butcher gave us, according to Riley one of her friends has disappeared recently and there are certain similarities between their fighting styles," said Graham. "Ma'am, if I might speak freely?"

When Dr Walsh didn't object, he continued, "I think this is just more proof that hostile 23 is not dangerous."
Forrest looked sideways at Graham, worried Graham was about to get his head bitten off. Dr Walsh's response surprised them both.
"I agree. She obviously trusts him and so far, I can see why," said Dr Walsh, almost more to herself than to Forrest and Graham.
"What do you want us to do about it, ma'am?" asked Forrest. "Do you want us to talk to Buffy about this?"
"No," said Dr Walsh quickly. "I'll handle this. Thankyou, dismissed."
Dr Walsh turned and walked away from them, entering the secured area. Forrest and Graham exchanged looks before returning to the surface.

Dr Walsh entered Angel's cell. Angel looked up from scrutinizing his bandages as she came in. The sight soothed her temper slightly.
"How's your boys?" he asked cordially.
"They're fine. Problem with the bandages?" asked Dr Walsh, pointing.
"Not really," shrugged Angel. "Started bleeding again but nothing major."
"I see," said Dr Walsh. "That's good."
"Ah, didn't I already answer questions today?" asked Angel cautiously, unsure of her intent.
"Yes, you did," agreed Dr Walsh. "You did it so well, I thought I might try for a rematch."

Smiling, Angel stood and walked towards her, stopping inches from her face. Acutely aware of how close he was, Dr Walsh stared resolutely at the bandages to avoid his eyes.
"Without Mr What's-his-name?" he asked pointedly.
"Dr Inggelman?" asked Dr Walsh, raising her courage and looking him in the eye.
"Whatever," said Angel dismissively.
Dr Walsh smiled in spite of herself then remembered why she was there.

She might as well approach it delicately rather than demand straightforward answers.
"Angel," began Dr Walsh. "Do you have many human friends?"
"Some."
"Do you know what a Slayer is?" asked Dr Walsh directly.
The transformation was almost instantaneous. Angel's amused smile faded and he took a couple of steps backwards to lean against the bed. Dr Walsh found his retreat leaving her with the upper hand and it gave her more confidence, confidence she needed if she was to get the information she wanted.
"I'll take that as a yes," said Dr Walsh. "Do you know who the Slayer is?"

Dr Walsh didn't flinch under Angel's flinty, unresponsive gaze.
"Angel? Hello?" tried Dr Walsh. "All right then, do you know who this is?"
Dr Walsh handed him the poster and she watched his expression shift slightly upon recognition. Angel opened his mouth to speak several times, but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him that there was nothing he could say that wouldn't endanger Buffy.
Uncertain, he simply said, "It's a photograph."
"Yes, very good," said Dr Walsh impatiently. "You'll be doing barnyard animals next."

Angel looked down at the poster once before he handed it back firmly, "Not my secret to tell."
Dr Walsh snorted in frustration, not taking back the poster, "Then let me. Buffy Anne Summers, nineteen years old, a student in my psychology class and a hunter of demons in her spare time. Often known by the title of the Slayer."
Angel looked up sharply, as if he'd been stung. He looked Dr Walsh up and down, almost sizing her up.
"You teach Buffy?" he asked, clearly surprised.
Dr Walsh mistook his meaning and answered hotly, "What's wrong with that? You think that a woman has no place in a centre of learning?"
"No, no," said Angel quickly. "I didn't mean that. I just meant... I can't really imagine you and Buffy getting along."
Dr Walsh frowned before asking, "Really? Why not?"
Angel bowed his head and she was about to ask him if he was okay when he looked back up at her and she realised he was trying to suppress a smile.

"It's hard to explain, there's no one quite like Buffy," explained Angel. "Buffy is very much... hang on."
Angel reached out for the poster and Dr Walsh let him take it from her hands.
"Does Buffy know I'm here?" he asked urgently.
"Most definitely not," said Dr Walsh, with more than a little pride in her voice.
Angel looked worried and he leaned towards Dr Walsh, "You have to get a message to her. Tell her I'm all right, that I'm okay. She must be worried sick."

Dr Walsh confused, asked what she felt was the obvious question, "Would the Slayer care, of all people?"
Angel turned to her angrily, "You don't know Buffy the way I do... please?"
The plea was so pitiful yet honest that Dr Walsh's resolve faltered, "I'll... I'll see what I can do."
He seemed to understand that she was compromising and his expression softened, "Thankyou."

Dr Walsh watched Angel bend his head to gaze at the floor, his mind drifting off to experiences she could only guess at. There was something so human in that, that on an impulse, she crossed to lean against the bed beside him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she pulled herself onto a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"You and Buffy are... close?" asked Dr Walsh, carefully.
Angel smiled sadly again and leaned back to look at her, "Remember that friend I made?"
Dr Walsh nodded, "You killed your sire for Buffy?"
"Something like that."
Dr Walsh held up the poster.
She sighed and held it out to Angel, "When was that taken?"

Angel was about to say something defensive but her expression reassured him it was a genuine question.
"Last year. Buffy's prom night. She was going to go with... someone... they had to cancel and it didn't seem right for her to go alone. So I met her there," he said, smiling at the memory. "She didn't know I was coming. For all I knew, she could have asked someone else or not gone at all. But there she was, standing by the punchbowl. Not waiting pathetically for some impossible guy to ask her to dance, just surveying the scene. Always cool and in control."
Dr Walsh watched the expression on his face as he talked about Buffy, "You two were involved?"
"We haven't seen much of each other since I moved away," said Angel, avoiding the question.
He turned to look her in the eyes again. Dr Walsh returned the look, trying to fathom it's meaning.
"Is that all?" asked Angel.
"Yeah," said Dr Walsh, suddenly loosing her nerve.

She stood again and collected her clipboard.
"Bye," said Angel.
With a forced cheerfulness she answered, "See you tomorrow."
"Don't forget to tell Buffy, please?"
Dr Walsh nodded before leaving the room.

Out in the corridor, she let out a nervous breath and leant against the wall. She rubbed at her neck with shaking hands.
"You all right, Dr?" asked Dr Inggelman from a distance.
"Fine," she answered, straightening up. "I just need a small break."
Dr Walsh walked in an unfamiliar haze to the bathroom.

She began to run the tap, watching the water swirl down the plughole. She slipped her hands into the stream of water and rubbed at the back of her own neck. The water was nice and fresh against her skin. Her mind began to clear and she relaxed again. The bathroom door opened, interrupting her reverie. Dr Walsh stared fixedly ahead at the mirror. The reflection of Dr Moore, the youngest of Dr Inggelman's science team, came to stand beside her. Dr Walsh turned off the running water without looking away from the mirror.
"Are you feeling well, Dr Walsh?" asked Dr Moore. "Dr Inggelman was worried."
"Fine," answered Dr Walsh automatically.
Dr Moore smiled abruptly.

"Met someone?" she asked, almost eagerly.
"What?" asked Dr Walsh sharply.
"Sorry," said Dr Moore quickly, worried she'd overstepped her bounds. "You just had this look. I figured it was over some guy."
Dr Walsh smiled ironically, "Yeah. Some guy."
"Worried about keeping secrets?" inquired Dr Moore.
"I think he know most of my secrets already... what am I talking about? I barely know him," said Dr Walsh.
"Maybe not," agreed Dr Moore. "But its always nice to find out it's possible - falling in love I mean."
Dr Walsh smiled wistfully, "Yeah."
Returning her smile, Dr Moore began to back towards the door.
"Makes the whole world look different, doesn't it?" added Dr Moore, unable to stop herself.
She turned and left Dr Walsh alone with her reflection.
"Possible. Who'd have thought? It's well past time for change, anyway," announced Dr Walsh to the empty bathroom.

***

Dr Moore, hiding her smile, returned to the waiting Dr Inggelman.
"She's fine, Dr," said Dr Moore. "Just a personal matter that I think she's on top of."
"What kind of personal matter?" pressed Dr Inggelman.
"Ah.. it's a woman's problem, Dr Inggelman," she lied.
"That's an evasive answer, Dr Moore."
"It's intended to be."

At her superior's disapproving glance, she felt obliged to add, "If you really think you need to know, I suggest you ask Dr Walsh directly. I don't want to tell you unless I know she wants me to tell you."
Dr Inggelman seemed to accept that, "Fair enough Doctor. I'll talk to her, myself."
Dr Moore nodded meekly and returned to her work in the pit. Dr Walsh emerged from the bathroom. Intending to talk to her, Dr Inggelman followed her out of the secured area into the Initiative's main floor.

"Dr Inggelman, sir?" asked a voice at his elbow.
When he turned, there was a marine beside him.
"What is it, Private?" asked Dr Inggelman.
"I think you'd want to see this, sir," said the marine urgently.
"What is it?"
"It's, well... I really think you should see it for yourself."

Dr Inggelman followed the private, who led him into the men's bathroom.
"What is it?" repeated Dr Inggelman.
"It's in the cubicle, sir," explained the marine, pointing.
Dr Inggelman peered in the cubicle. There was a small bundle in a plastic bag.
"I still don't see..," began Dr Inggelman.

There was a wet smacking sound as the marine's baton collided with the back of Dr Inggelman's head.
Dr Inggelman slumped forward and was still. The marine dropped the bloodstained baton into the toilet bowl with such a high-pitched splash that he glanced around nervously to see if anyone had heard. The marine dragged the plastic bag out from underneath Dr Inggelman. The bag's contents were nothing more than clothing, the bag protecting it from the slowly expanding pool of blood. The marine changed into a neat business shirt and sombre pants. Over the top, he added a pristine white lab coat. Once this was done, he closed his eyes in some bizarre twist of concentration. As he did so, his very facial features shifted and melted as if there was a mass of insects crawling beneath his skin. He went through several faces before settling on a likeness of Dr Inggelman. One of them was that of an Atashak demon.

TO BE CONTINUED...