Dan laid it all out. Where he'd come from, what he'd discovered, how Marcus had helped him and why. Over the course of half an hour, he had, with growing enthusiasm, laid out his recent life story to a stone-faced Anastasia Summers. And once his tale reached its conclusion in present time, she finally spoke.

"You really expect me to buy that pile of horse manure?"

Dan put his hand on Abby's leg before she could leap to his defense. With a wry grin, he admitted, "In retrospect, not particularly."

The stern matron shook her head in bewilderment as she turned her gaze to Abby. "My dear, I've heard that love makes you blind, but I don't recall ever being quite this bad. Have you taken a complete leave of your senses?

"He's not lying," Abby stated, with the kind of ironclad certainty that only rose-tinted goggles could provide.

"I'll admit that his story has a somewhat compelling sort of optimism to it," Anastasia offered with a careless shrug. "Exploring alternate Earths, empty or less developed than our own, would certainly be a more convenient method of acquiring resources than space travel."

"That's..." Dan paused, considering the implications. "That's definitely not where I was going with this."

Anastasia hummed condescendingly.

This conversation was not going well. Dan understood that his story was unbelievable, but he'd never realized how difficult it would be to convince someone of it. He'd always been so focused on hiding the truth. Keeping it secret, keeping himself safe. He'd never, in all the time that he'd been in this dimension, seriously considered that a person might simply not believe him.

He was at a bit of a loss, really.

The elder Summers peered at him with a furrowed brow. "That appears to be genuine confusion," she observed. "Are you actually surprised that I'm not just taking you at your word?"

Dan glanced at her. "A little, yeah. You've got literal superpowers formed out of radiation, belief and cosmic fuckery. My situation doesn't seem all that odd, in comparison."

"You're right," Anastasia agreed. A pause, and she clarified, "You are far too stupid for Marcus to be using you to interfere with me. That, at least, I can accept." She raised a hand before Abby could raise a protest. "The rest of your story, I will not be taking on faith alone. I require proof of your sincerity."

"I could take a video camera into t-space with me, I guess," Dan offered uncertainly.

Anastasia snorted incredulously. "Have you seen modern CGI? You—"

"No," Dan interrupted.

The older woman paused, taken aback, then frowned ferociously. Her words came out sharp and punctuated. "Regardless, you'll need to do better than that."

Dan shrugged. "Marcus had some kinda scanner that could take readings from t-space. You got anything like that?" His mind lingered on the quarter-sized sensor that he carried on him at all times. It belonged to Marcus, and was one of the very few things he had left out of his story. Whatever their disagreements, the old man had earned that much forbearance. Dan wouldn't hand over his technology to a woman who was, at best, a belligerent rival.

"I still don't quite believe this place exists," Anastasia replied with a mocking tilt of her head. "Why in the world would I have a scanner for it?"

"Well then, I give up," Dan announced, throwing both hands into the air and gazing skyward for help. He was still afraid of the woman in front of him, he'd have to be an idiot not to be, but he was also certain that she no longer intended to directly harm him. That, for Dan, was just enough to be called a win. She could think him a lunatic for all he cared, so long as the crazy old woman left him alone.

Speaking of crazy old women...

"What was that you mentioned about Matilda Fairbanks?" Dan questioned, his eyes dropping back down to Anastasia. He barely restrained a flinch as he met her eyes.

The matriarch's gaze pinned him in place as if he were a specimen on display. A butterfly, with needles through its wings, suspended in glass. Her voice was calculating and cold. "You... give up?"

Dan glanced to Abby, drawing strength from the firm set of her jaw. "Yeah. It's fine if you don't believe me. You've already admitted that I'm no threat to you or Abby, so we're good."

"I think I'll be the judge of when we 'are good', Mister Newman," Anastasia replied in the manner of a nun correcting an unruly student.

"Okay," Dan said blandly. He met her eyes as best he could. "But I've got nothing else to tell you. You've heard my story. It's up to you whether or not you believe it."

"This is not how convincing people works," Anastasia stated, massaging her brow with a sigh. She glanced briefly to Abby, whose hand had found Dan's at some point, and rubbed the bottom of her chin.

"Fine," the matron decided. "We'll have to"—Her nose crinkled as if she'd just tasted something unpleasant—"compromise. You want to hear about Matilda Fairbanks? I'll tell you, and then I have a task for you to perform."

Dan blinked, slowly processing the fact that he'd just gotten a concession. He should buy a lottery ticket.

"Deal," he quickly agreed before Anastasia could take back the offer.

"Mm." The older woman leaned back in her seat, kicking a foot up cross-ways to rest on her opposite knee. "It seems that Miss Fairbanks has an unusually keen interest in studying Mutates and Naturals. Specifically, research into how powers can change over time, Natural or otherwise. Not exactly an accessible topic." She smiled languidly. "And one frequently looked upon as... fantastical, by the masses. Inroads are hard to find. While this is hardly a problem for someone of means, with connections within the scientific community, Matilda Fairbanks is not such a person."

"My professor," Dan's brow crinkled, "er, Officer Tawny told me that Matilda's sister had some sort of problem with her upgrade."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Anastasia waved her hand dismissively. "Not a problem; it worked exactly as advertised, her family was simply hoping for a miracle. They were certainly on the right track, just off by a few years. The upgrade hadn't yet been optimized. Bad luck for her, I suppose."

Dan frowned at her frank tone. "Still, I don't see how trying to help her sister is indicative of anything."

"That's because I'm not done." Anastasia reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin piece of metal. Less than a fingernail in width, and maybe ten centimeters across, it resembled nothing more than a piece of scrap. She held it horizontally, then flicked her hand. The device split at the center, unfurling into a shimmering blue screen held between two slivers of steel. The older Summers ran her finger along it in a quick pattern, then turned the screen towards Dan.

It was a picture of Matilda, standing across from a man Dan did not recognize. The two of them were huddled in a parking lot, shrouded by night, save for a single street lamp. Matilda was dressed in what might have been the clumsiest attempt at concealing clothing that Dan had ever seen, in the form of an outrageously over-sized black sweatshirt. The man was wearing, of all things, what appeared to be a lab coat. The grainy photograph was just detailed enough to make out an envelope being passed between the two of them.

"You wouldn't happen to recognize this fellow?" Anastasia queried. Her hand tapped the stranger's face, and the picture zoomed in. The quality dropped dramatically, but the man's defining features were clear. Pale skin, thin glasses, and an exaggerated case of bed-head. The man was wearing a grin that was positively maniacal, stretching all the way across his face.

Dan shook his head in denial. "Hard to tell, but I think I'd remember someone like that." He glanced to Abby, who seemed to share his confusion.

"His name is Andros Bartholomew," Anastasia informed them both. She flicked her finger and the screen changed to a still photo of a demolished building. Something sparked in Dan's memory.

"I think I know where this is," he said slowly. His brow furrowed, and he searched his memory. "Why do I know where this is?"

"It's that building Gregoir blew up!" Abby exclaimed. She pointed at the picture. "This is from after that reporter interviewed him!"

Anastasia smiled. "Quite right. Andros Bartholomew is a known associate of The People, though he's believed to be more of a mercenary than an actual member. Approximately three months ago, he was hired to kidnap a lower ranking officer from the APD." She nodded at Daniel with grudging approval. "That particular plot was foiled by you and your associate, Officer Pierre-Louis."

Dan's eyes widened. "That's the guy behind it all? Gregoir didn't catch him?"

"Officer Pierre-Louis elected to prioritize the safety of Mister Graham over capturing his assailant," the older woman explained archly. "It was a shortsighted decision, though understandable given his profession. Regardless, the man is now in the wind, with a single exception."

She flicked her finger, and the previous screen appeared. Matilda and Andros shook hands in an abandoned parking lot. "This picture was taken about a month ago."

Abby sucked in a sharp breath. It took Dan a moment to understand why, and then a chill stole over him.

"That's right after I signed up for my Academy class," he noted quietly.

"Awfully suspicious timing, isn't it?" Anastasia noted. "Three days after this picture was taken, she invited Michael Tawny to a local police bar for drinks. A week later, she was invited to Red Creek Ranch."

"Where she started stalking me," Dan finished.

Anastasia shrugged. "In a fashion. I suspect she was hired to evaluate your power by Mister Andros here. Your disappearing act probably got him interested. Maybe hoping to salvage something, since his lab was so thoroughly ransacked." She tapped the screen. "I don't know what Fairbanks was promised, but I haven't been able to find any contact between the two of them since this one." The matronly woman grinned wickedly. "It appears that after discovering you are a Natural, she wants to keep you all to herself. At least for now."

Dan cringed at the thought. "I knew she was creepy, but this is on a whole different level."

"Oh yes," Anastasia agreed. "But the woman is no criminal mastermind, and that's what I'll be relying on."

Something uncomfortable prickled against Dan's senses. "I don't like the sound of that."

"You promised to perform a task," the older woman reminded him.

"Mama Ana—" Abby tried, but was cut off.

"Calm down dear, it's nothing overly dangerous," Anastasia reassured without the slightest hint of shame. "Besides, Daniel's power puts him in a unique position to flee, should something go wrong."

He frowned. "What is it that you want me to do?"

"Cooperate with her," Anastasia stated simply. "Let her play out whatever it is she's planning. With any luck, she'll eventually try and engineer a meeting between you and Andros. I'm not willing to put a tail on the woman, lest Andros notice it. Much safer to simply stick a tracker on you, and wait for her to try and hand you over."

"I thought you said she was keeping me for herself," Dan protested, immediately searching for a way out of the job.

Anastasia shook her head. "She'll have to give you up eventually. Most likely, she was given a deadline, or some kind of meeting point in the future. Andros Bartholomew is not the sort of person you can just ignore and hope he goes away. She'll know that much, at least."

"How can you be so sure that this Andros guy will want to meet me?" Dan demanded. "He could just want a profile, in which case I'll be giving away a ton of information for absolutely no gain at all."

The infuriating woman shrugged. "The man's a mad scientist. They tend to have very predictable behavior patterns. He'll try to kidnap you. They usually do it by proxy, but he's out of goons now, so it'll have to be in person."

"I am so very not comfortable risking myself based solely off your genre savvy," Dan snapped.

Anastasia flashed him a bewildered look. "My predictions are based on an in-depth psychological profile. What the hell is genre savvy?"

"Oh. Um." Dan ignored the question in favor of fishing about for a new angle. When in doubt, throw shit at the wall and see what sticks."Well, I'm positive that this plan is nine different kinds of illegal. Should you really be asking me to do it? I've got no undercover training. I've been really trying to stay uninvolved with this kind of thing."

"Meeting with your upgrade counselor is not in any way illegal, and requires no undercover training," Anastasia replied blandly. She cocked her head. "And you should have considered that before digging into a secret underground base. You're involved. There is no way for you to be uninvolved."

Dan swiped his hand in a sharp gesture. "That's completely different!" he exclaimed. "This is my home. I'm entitled to know what the hell is inside of it, and it's perfectly reasonable to not want a bunch of strangers stomping around my basement. Hell, what if they had seized the whole place as evidence? No! Exploring that basement alone was stupid, but not unreasonable." He jabbed a finger at the screen, tapping Andros' face. "This here, this is stupid and unreasonable. I should be staying out of it, not diving deeper in. How is this not an issue for the police? Just hand Matilda over to them and let 'em deal it!"

Anastasia's voice was frigid. "The APD are woefully undermanned, and entirely unequipped to handle this. Giving them this information is the same as letting Andros escape." Her words contained not a hint of doubt.

"And once he's gone?" Anastasia continued mercilessly. "The man is a terrorist. Who knows what he'll do. What innocents will be caught in his plans? Can you live with the consequences, knowing you might've been able to stop him?"

"Well, that's... fuck." Dan ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He glanced to Abby helplessly.

She bit her lip, and tentatively said, "It's up to you, Danny. But I think you should stay out of it." She gave a furtive look to Anastasia, before adding, "If it were me taking the risks, I'd trust Mama Ana, but you're, um..."

Expendable.

Anastasia Summers was a crafty old woman. She spun a tale in just the right way to tug on his conscience, on his sense of responsibility, on his fear. She didn't trust him, didn't believe him, didn't want him around, but found a use for him anyway. It was a perfect result for her.

Dan should listen to his girlfriend. He should go about his life. He should stay uninvolved.

The older Summers' words echoed in his head.

All a person can be expected to do, at the end of the day, is act in a manner that they can live with. The question was: could Dan live with himself?

The answer was resoundingly clear.