Sergeant Dan Shanahan heard screams. He walked down the hall of the hotel. They had taken it as a base since it sat on the edge of their operating area. The region didn't get a lot of tourists, even less with the Marines and the Army operating in the area against insurgents.

He paused at the door. He should turn away. He was experiencing it and remembering it at the same time. He should walk away and let this be a memory. There were other places he could be.

Shanahan kicked the door open just as he had in real life. Three men from his squad were with some orphans they had picked up. Empty bottles and blood were everywhere.

“What are you doing?,” demanded Shanahan. His hand had slipped down to the service pistol in the holster strapped to his leg.

“We're just having a little fun, Sarge,” said Pressley. He was on the single bed with two of the girls they had taken. “You want one?”

“Are you crazy?,” said Shanahan. “You three are done. Get out of here. Don't bother getting dressed. Just go.”

Pressley rolled to reach for something on the floor. Either it was his pants, or his pistol. Shanahan pulled his own pistol first and snapped off a shot before the private could straighten.

The other two separated. One went for the window, the other for Shanahan himself. He shot them both on the fly. He pushed the naked body of Verlander away as he looked around.

Shanahan took a deep breath. He holstered his weapon. Killing three of your men was going to result in something bad from the brass. He didn't care at the moment. He had scared and wounded girls to take care of before he could do anything else.

“I need you to get your clothes,” said Shanahan. “Can you do that? I'm taking you out of here.”

“Why don't you join us?,” said Pressley. He pushed himself up. The hole where his eye had been let light through his skull to the back. “There's plenty of room.”

Verlander stirred, the holes in his chest leaking blood as he tried to get to his feet.

“You shouldn't have done that, Sergeant,” said Verlander. His voice rumbled as he tried to get to his feet.

“Go, girls, go!,” shouted Shanahan. He pulled his pistol and opened fire as he waved the girls out of the room. “Go!”

The bullets opened holes in the dead men, but they came forward through the fire. Pressley smiled as he reached for Shanahan. Slugs to the knees slowed him down.

Shanahan pulled a grenade from his belt. He shouldn't have had a grenade, but the dream had moved into unreality by this point. He pulled the pin and dropped it in the room before running out into the hall. He slammed the door as he waved the girls to run. An explosion rocked the hall and threw the door into the hall in a rain of shards.

“Run,” said Shanahan. “Run.”

He ran after the girls. Whistling filled the air. He threw himself forward, covering the girls with his body. The passage of an artillery shell flung them forward. He picked himself up and grabbed the girls one at a time to push them forward. The light ahead was a cave mouth they were trying to get to before it was closed.

More artillery fire screamed in as they ran for the cave mouth. Everything went black in a cloud of dirt and stone. He paused as he listened to the cave shake around him. He pulled out his light and shone it around. They had been sealed in by the shells.

He walked to the closed cave mouth. He shook his head as he looked at it. How was he going to get the girls out of this?

“I don't feel so good,” said Isri, the youngest. “Something is wrong with me.”

Shanahan turned the light to look at her. He wasn't a medic. What was going on? They were trapped and he had no way to get her any help. What did he do?

Blood ran from Isri's eyes, nose, and mouth. He spotted a trail coming from one of her ears, running down her face to join the rest dripping off her chin. She reached for him with a hand. Something ran under her skin like worms burrowing in the dirt.

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“Get back,” said Shanahan. It was unclear if he meant Isri, the other girls, or himself.

“Help me!,” wailed Isri. Her body broke open to reveal tentacles of flesh reaching for Shanahan and the other girls. “Please! Help me!”

Shanahan pushed the other girls around Isri. He stared in horror as the tentacles reached for him. He knew he was done for if he let them touch him. He backed up, turning to run from the wailing in the dark.

“How's it going, Sarge,” said Pressley. His voice drifted from the darkness. “You can't keep all the girl flesh for yourself. That ain't right.”

Shanahan swung his light around. Where was the voice coming from? Where was Pressley?

“You think I'm going to let you get away with this, Sarge?,” said Pressley. “I want mine.”

One of the girls screamed as she vanished in the dark. The sounds of biting and chewing reached Shanahan and the other two girls. He pulled his pistol. Where was Pressley?

“You can't stop me, Sarge,” said Pressley. The remains of the girl fell at Shanahan's feet. “I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to me.”

Shanahan fired once. He hoped he didn't kill the girls or himself with a ricochet. The bullet punched through the top of the cavern wall to let some light in. Pressley was nowhere in sight.

"Let's get out of here,” said Shanahan. He turned to look at the girls. He would have to boost them out of the hole first. Then he would have to climb out himself.

They burned in the light from the opening. They screamed in unison. He covered his face as he backed up. They exploded, flinging him through a wall. He hit the ground with stones falling around him.

“How does it feel, Sarge?,” said Pressley. “You failed. You'll always fail.”

Shanahan picked himself up. He ignored the imaginary hurt. They were a memory from an IED. He had survived that. He remembered surviving that.

“I'm coming for you, Sarge,” said Pressley. “I'm going to take everything else from you.”

Shanahan looked at the hills stretching out in all directions. He rubbed his face. He looked at his hand. His sweat was blood. He closed his eyes. Pressley was close. He had to be ready to take him.

He heard the click in his head. He looked around. The sky opened above him. He reached up. Clouds drifted over him. He opened his eyes on a strange roof in a strange town. He looked around to make sure he was still alone.

Pressley would have another go at him tomorrow night. Now he had to get back on his feet and get back on the road.

Wyndham needed him to get her out of her cell.

He went to the edge of the roof. The sun wasn't up yet. He could move freely and clear the city without a hassle if he hurried. He had to take care of some personal business first.

Once he was done, Shanahan walked out of the alley next to his resting place and aimed for the tower in the distance. He started jogging toward the landmark.

He wondered what the point of it was. He doubted that many of the factions moved against each other, and he felt that if they all had strange powers, a tower would be a great target.

If Grandview used the tower as a platform, he could see that. Throwing lightning on a siege army who couldn't throw lightning back might be a good thing.

He didn't know enough about the other factions to say they couldn't just blow in the ground floor and knock the whole thing over.

He didn't plan to be around long enough to find out in any case. Getting Wyndham back, and going home, was the priority. Trying to find someone who could knock Grandview's needle over was something he could think about doing if he couldn't find a way home.

He wondered how many had taken their shot at Grandview and been thrown down. The guy couldn't be full of hot air if he controlled some x-men and could do everything they could do.

How knife resistant was he seemed the most important thing to find out if things got hot.

He wondered why bringing Wyndham back had been on the agenda. He could already do everything she could do. And she had jumped ship, so he couldn't trust her anymore. What was the point?

Transferring her power seemed the best answer to that question. All he had to do was get someone to kill her, and that person was the new Wyndham. Grandview probably wanted to watch it in person instead of just letting a mook do it in New York.

Shanahan wouldn't want to trust one of his guys to do the job if he thought they were sympathetic to Wyndham.

How long did he have to get to the tower and get Wyndham back before they killed her?

He didn't like the feeling she might already be dead, and he was giving them the horse back on top of it.

He found a fruit stand opening as he passed. He grabbed a few as he went. He was already running, so the merchant didn't have time to call stop thief before he was gone.

He passed a wine shop and thought about going in and taking a bottle. He decided that was too much. He didn't want the attention of the local law. That would slow him down.

He could look for water on his way. He doubted he would have problems grabbing some to drink before he headed out of town.

He didn't remember seeing any rivers. How did they get their water? What was going on with the way the city's land area was cut from the land area where he had landed, and was the tower's land area across another bridge?

He reached the end of the city's buildings, and paused to look at the road ahead. He saw a wall in the distance. It looked like he would be climbing when he got to that side of things.

He would be glad to get back to New York. One bottle of whiskey would be enough to put him back on his path.

He could see why Wyndham had fled a place like this, even if it wasn't to get away from her boss.