Harry came to visit Porsche at the general hospital within Midland influenced territory, the section of her room sealed off and under guard. One hand holding a vase of flowers, he opened the door trying not to make a sound. The room was spacious with only one bed. Single bedrooms were reserved for Affiliate patrons. She was in bed, hooked up to dialysis machines and micro-filters.

Awake, she grimaced with a mix of pain and distaste when she saw him.

"No, don't get up," he joked, putting down the carnations beside her bed.

"Cruel man, you did this to me."

"You look like an old woman."

"I lost nearly four quarts of blood, they told me."

"You'll bounce back in no time, all youthful and glowing."

"Flowers?" She eyed him, knowing him too well. "You must want something, Uncle."

"Am I so predictable?" He chuckled. "That could be dangerous."

"A leopard doesn't change its stripe, or is it a tiger?"

"I don't plan to be extinct."

"Well, what do you want?" she asked, trying to get comfortable. Every movement made her jerk.

"I need your magic."

"Look at me, I'm through," Porsche said, turning her head away.

"I know it's tough --"

"I'm broken up inside," she snapped. "And I'm spent, didn't think I ever could be." She faced him coldly.

"What's eating you?"

"You're diseased . . . and so am I." She sneered. "Our pasts are catching up with us. Mine certainly did."

"Lockheart's lives have run out. The feds got him." Harry beamed.

"He visited me, did you know that?"

Harry shook his head, sensing a sadness underneath what she said.

"He didn't send Harpy after me. It was all her."

"What are you telling me?"

"She loved him. She wanted to protect him, so she sacrificed herself."

"Would you rather die instead?"

"Don't be stupid," Porsche hissed. Harry waited, teasing it out. She said, "I'm tired of hating. Of killing. I lost count the number I wasted through the years."

"This is not the right time for a conscience."

"Even Marlboro has more integrity and conviction in her fingernails than you and me combined." Tears fell from Porsche. "She loved someone, had someone return that love."

"And she lost her in the worst way. Do you want that?"

"I realized nearing death that I love nothing and no one. I know how to seduce and use people because I was trained to do so. Now I face my reality – I am a monster. And you’re corruption." She sneered with a hurtful chuckle. "We make a slimy pair of parasites, don't we Uncle, prostrating ourselves to shitty people. We have no integrity or honor . . . I'm disgusting." She pinched an amount of loose skin and let go. It hung flaccid as if she were wearing a bodysuit two sizes larger. "And this filth can't be washed."

"You're too hard on yourself," Harry said.

She stiffened. "There's a trail of death and destruction following you from the years we spent fashioning mayhem. Haven't you had enough?"

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"But we're still standing. Because we're good at what we do."

"No, Uncle. Good people are wasted, the best I've seen. The Cerberus group -- they'd die for each other without a second thought. Would you? Could you?"

"You look up to them."

Porsche turned away. "Better human beings than we'd ever be. Now they're gone."

"Not all -- your hero's in trouble."

Her eyes crestfallen, Porsche looked at her old mentor with pity, for both of them. "To the last, I will stab at thee . . . For hate's sake -- "

"Don't be melodramatic," he said with a pinched expression. "While you were laid out, we found three Cerberus survivors. They're safe. But your amazonian heroine took it upon herself to go after Lockheart."

"Not without your coaxing and prodding, Mephistopheles."

"I had nothing to do with it. I even advised her against it."

"And now, they're caught by the feds. Then your game's over. Don't be a sore loser, Uncle. Let it go."

"Well, not all were caught. Two escaped. We picked them up after a few hours floating in the Gulf. As for Marlboro and Lockheart, they've --"

"It's not going to happen," Porsche beat him to the punch.

"Look girl --"

"I've given you everything, even my black soul to play with. I'm done, Uncle. So please, have mercy," she said with finality. "And let me go."

DeWitt gave her a severe glare. He reached out and lifted her chin so their eyes met. "Don't do anything foolish, Porsche. We know too much, have done too much. We've met the devil together, and we've seen heaven, haven't we? And we know they're one and the same."

"So you've said before."

"I need you." He changed tack. "You admire her, well, she needs you."

"Don't bullshit me. You used her to get to Lockheart for the biotech program," Porsche shouted and realized her voice bounced off the walls.

"I did. I saw the opportunity and took it."

"Hallelujah, truth at last. Save me the sermon and your warped morality, Uncle. I'm out."

Harry shook his head as a father would. "You've always been my favorite student." He gazed deeply into her as he gave her a sharp tug on her wrist. "You were a bedrock of loyalty from the day I took you in. There was no one more steadfast in her resolve than you."

"That person's gone."

The patience on his face vanished, replaced by a sharp angry mask. "You think I'll let you go? There is no leaving. Once you're in, you're in for life, Victoria Ivashko." He called her by her true name, one she hadn't heard in years and it shook her.

"So, this is blackmail?"

"It's a warning," Harry said. "I'd hate to see something happen to you. Our enemies are out there, and they know we're alive and kicking."

"I can best anything -- or anyone you, or they send against me." She snarled between clenched teeth.

"No doubt, but for how long? Next time, you'll face someone better than Harpy. You'd have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life. A terrible thing to live in fear."

"Bastard." She lunged for him and fell back, exhausted, breathing hard.

"Or you could pick yourself up, and come back to me," Harry said with a paternal smile, his tone now warm and soothing. "Things will be different -- I promise -- autonomy, transparency. You can decide on future assignments according to how you see fit. And more glitter and bling to your heart's content."

"I have enough stashed away for a comfortable life."

"But an empty one, so you said. To know love begins with helping people . . . You know I'm right."

"Khuligan." She looked away. He smirked, knowing the insulting word -- molester.

Harry stayed quiet, not daring to interrupt the closing moment.

"You give me a clean exit when I want it. No future harassment," she countered after a pause.

"I might consider it."

"You leave me be when I say so, that's my condition."

"I recruited you, took you out of the filth you were in, saved you from a Cossack rape camp and Spetsnaz kill team. Where's your gratitude?"

"I've paid my debt to you ten times over."

"You're short still," Harry said.

"Fuck do you want from me?"

"Go in. Find Marlboro and retrieve Carnivora. And at this second, all the pieces are in the same location -- Lockheart included. You could finish the job you started years ago."

"Go in, how? My body's wasted."

"This is the moment I'm vulnerable. Ask and you shall receive -- anything."

"New body, with T&A that would slay a virgin. Do that and I might consider it."

"Requisition's been sent through, parts grown from your DNA as we speak. Anything else?"

"I'll think of something, don't you worry."

Harry smiled, leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. She twisted away from him. Harry made his way to the door, while at the same time, three men out in the hallway followed him out. They were his security detail.

Alone, she couldn't shake the dread her teacher had instilled. Harry DeWitt was an unrelenting coach, testing her, pushing her. How naive to think she could leave. Dyadya wouldn't think twice about throwing her to the wolves -- if she tried leaving. Porsche had always been a realist since she was a child. To escape her conditions then, she had to abide her time for the right opportunity. Right now he had her, and she knew it. The Puppeteer was usually three steps ahead of everyone in planning.

She thumbed the morphine button to ease her pain as the nausea returned with a vengeance. This body was hopeless. Even if she managed to recover, it would never be the same. And forty years from now, she would get the dreaded diagnosis of some fourth stage cancer. Dump it. Uncle promised her a new body, grown and matured -- after all this. She'd keep her face though, at least the profile. Maybe change sex? Nah, she liked being female -- and being underestimated. She wondered how long before she could get accustomed to the new nervous system, the tactile sensitivity, the motor coordination, a slew of things she never had considered before. This was one of those operations no one acknowledged to exist, accessible only by the uber-rich.

Kristos.