“Brett, War Room, now.”

The quiet message came over the comm link embedded in his ear. He didn’t really understand all the technology Titan had created with Apex for communications, hell, especially for the armor. Privacy was an accepted illusion as a member of the Alliance, and that didn’t even count the magical artifact Brujeria had implanted, with their consent, in their bodies to enhance whatever spell allowed the mental communications between the team, individually or as a group, always with her knowledge though. All of which might make implementing his decision more difficult, but he shrugged it off. In some ways, a miasma of fog was lifting off of his soul and his heart. It would be difficult, perhaps risky, but he understood now what he was meant to do, in some ways what he had been searching for, and at the same time, running from, for almost twenty years.

All of that flashed through his mind at the whispered message, the tone calm, but also displaying urgency, easily recognizable as his oldest younger brother. He smiled briefly at the sleeping form of the woman who should have been his wife fifteen years ago, the newly darkened hair, wildly tangled but the bangs lying lightly over her forehead, covering the faint scar over her temple where a piece of shrapnel had grazed her head so long ago. For some reason, he knew that memory to be true, even if he couldn’t place when or where or how exactly.

He opened the door, closing it quickly behind him, not bothering to add more clothes than the boxers he’d slipped on earlier to walk the halls, and it wasn’t like Shawna and he hadn’t initiated most of this based at one time or another, and he smiled at those memories. An absent thought crossing that he really needed to modify this area into true living quarters. There was plenty of room in this monstrosity of a base, it just had not been a priority other than to make the whole wing livable when they moved in, and temp modifications to connect to basic rooms for Olivia and Amelia when they first got here in the days after the return from Australia, before…..everything else. Now, it needed to be much larger. A lot larger if his mission ultimately proved successful. The plan wasn’t a plan yet, just a nascent idea based on a truth recently revealed.

A mind works at amazing speeds, when instinct and practice allowed muscle memory to control movement. They’d been in this base for closing on three years, not too long after he had gotten Bryan back and shortly after open conflict began with the UDP. He’d been working on it almost continuously since then, both converting, building, and repairing after the various battles and attacks upon the base. Which was one of the reasons he’d argued against his family being here. The threat of English finding his family outside of the base compared to the general target of the base was not as widely disparate as the team assumed. While the base wasn’t well known, it was not completely a secret, even if cloaked in the purchase of the island by Martial Law. “Normal” transportation to the base or even the area of the base was limited, which is why he now needed to pay more attention to alternate methods. Which he would start on Monday, since he doubted White Wraith was summoning him to the War Room for a pep talk around 5:30 in the morning after a night of painful “celebration.”

For someone who had been running around this base for three years, rebuilding rooms, hallways, terraces; stalking its halls at all night as sleep eluded him, he knew the main halls like the back of his hand. Recent history suggested that he had not explored all of the nooks and crannies, and especially the subterranean features in sufficient detail. Explanations abounded as to why he hadn’t; arrogance, time, secret identities, missions, whatever. Even though he’d built the secret cell complex under the old admin offices, now Henri’s library, he hadn’t gone further. He’d failed as the security expert in defending this base. Whether a future version of Titan had been the one to compromise it was irrelevant, and a discussion he needed to work out with William on determining how to re-automate more of the defense but making sure such a breach could not occur again. But he needed to delve more fully into the entire structure of this island and the old fortification. He should have realized that there would be more tunnels, caverns, or even old rooms below the “modern” ones of a century ago. The exterior and underwater areas too. His daughter wanted to be a bigger part of the team, she loved climbing and exploring, she was absolutely fascinated with scuba diving. It would be training that maybe she would actually like and bitch less about. What better way to learn to sneak through the shadows and breach installations in the future than learning to figure out all the possible ways to breach this base, a base that was not just a base, but a home.

He realized that now. He was home. Everyone he loved besides his dead sister was here, even if Mum now lived near the Paragon Center. They’d work on improving the security there too, even on Brant’s Academy. Those damn kids kept trying to compromise the cameras. He needed to figure out a way to address that. He didn’t give a damn if they snuck out for some fun now and then, that wasn’t his responsibility. In fact, each time they did, it showed him more gaps to fix. Even if he’d been spending more time away from the office than in it. It might be time to promote Sarah, and become a bit more of a remote boss. William kept saying he wanted “Oliver” to expand the security and demolitions companies. Maybe it was time, within reason of course. Good subordinates are hard to find, and frankly he wanted to spend more time with his daughter, and those he loved. Perhaps he would finally need to break down and do more of the work via software, email and the other amazing technical tools having multiple geniuses around creating and implementing instead of his stubborn pen and paper. He knew how to use them, nobody in this day and age could be uneducated about tech, especially security tech, but he wasn’t an expert. His paranoia of government intrusion, paranoia gained through hard experience, is why he distrusted software, because he knew how good “they” were, but no matter. He’d just have to get with Titan and APEX to make sure the damn things were impenetrable.

The last thought slid through his mind as he opened the door to the War Room, and he smiled briefly to himself. He’d done a good job in here, even adding a small side room with surveillance screens, radar, and the gunnery controls that William had finally given him all the security codes too. Forty-eight different defensive batteries of various sorts. Only problem is they weren’t automated yet because of William’s own paranoia from the encounter with Evil APEX. Yet, he had an idea for that too. Trainee’s needed something to do…..and whatever she said, Amelia was still one of the toughest women he knew, and had been an amazing soldier. Defending her home obviously came naturally.

Somewhat surprised, he realized he was the first one there, even though he had the furthest to go by far, having to come through the barracks hallway, crossing the med-bay, through the rec room, and even past most of the original sleeping quarters before moving by her room into the hallway with the war room on the upper level. His senses picked up someone approaching, and shock went through him slightly as he smelled his brother’s blood as he arrived with Whitley.

“What happened? Who’s the threat?”

“Nothing, nothing, I just hit my head.”

The doubtful snort escaped Brett before it turned to a choke under a glare from Whitley, as she arrived in her dark purple, almost black, negligee with Brant, followed by a reeking and still drunken Henri in something even skimpier but white. As Shawna slid into the room, his breath caught slightly and the beautiful body that was only partially covered by the joke t-shirt and the green and pink panties she wore, and when she noticed him glancing, she stretched languidly, so he returned the gesture with a brief glow from his yellow eyes and a quick flick of his forked tongue, which got a response, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was an angry glare or a satisfied one. Either way, he was momentarily pleased because regardless of the damage he’d done, she still cared enough to be angry. He was slowly realizing that if she didn’t, then there was no hope whatsoever.

After the insight he’d gleaned from Whitley’s comment about Brant’s acceptance of his dual nature, and the potentially prophetic dream, he had a mission, one he’d assigned himself, and one he was not going to fail at, no matter how long it took. He’d lost too much time and love over the years, running from his emotions, running from his anger, running from his fear of family. He wasn’t letting either one of them escape him, not again.

He could suffer the pain and the anger each would direct at him. He could even suffer, if necessary, her sexual escapades, and the knowledge of what Dryce had done to Amelia. He was in no position to tell someone how to deal with their emotions or the hurt they had suffered. He just needed to figure out how to bring them both back to him, at the same time, and permanently. Even with all the anger, frustration, and yes the immense amount of jealously coursing through his veins at the thought of her body entwined with some loser, and continuous rage at the rapist in the cell below, he was at more peace with both of them in the same building than he had been in a long time. He just needed to convince them that they needed him as much as he needed them.

“Why are we here Brant?” Whitley asked.

Brant moved to the control console and flipped the switch. A tech-blue illumination rose in the center of the table and showed an audio relay, the line running through its center straight as arrow until the person on the other end began to talk, sending the balanced dash into up and down ticks.

“This is officer Montgomery of San Diego P.D. We have a 10-98 at the Black Castle Institute. I repeat, a 10-98 at the Black Castle Institute.”

Beside the audio output image, another screen jumped up and began scrolling through a long list of police codes, stopping once it reached 10-98 and its corresponding annotation.

10-98 = Jail Break.

“Jesus Christ. It’s so dark out here. The power is completely out!”

Having finally accepted his destiny, his nature, Brett slide his boxers off, and if his body was angled at a particular person, it was surely completely accidental. Then, he truly accepted his nature, allowing the skin to darken, the scales becoming more enhanced, thumbing the control on the bracelet as the skin tight armor flowed over his body.