It was the following evening. Devon struggled into the newly-purchased cocktail dress, still unaccustomed to women's clothes, although she couldn't stop smiling. I got boobies... After all these years, she thought, finally...

Myka came in from the en-suite bathroom, also wearing a slinky little number of her own.

"Well," Myka said. "You clean up real good, McMasters. You look great."

Devon blushed. "Thanks, Myka," she said shyly.

"Here," Myka said and handed her one of Claudia's special mini-Teslas. "you can use this smaller one. It's easier to hide in an LBD."

"What will you use?" Devon asked as she thoughtfully tucked it in her new cleavage.

"This." Myka hefted her own regularly sized Tesla.

"That's so big," Devon said. "How are you gonna hide that?"

"Listen, missy," she laughed, "I've had more practice hiding stuff in girl outfits than you, okay?"

Devon giggled happily.

"You're liking this," Myka commented.

"Being a girl? Oh, yes!" she said. "I've dreamed of this, but I never thought it would ever have been possible so I've never allowed myself to think about it. And with my job and my dad, I never fully admitted my feelings to myself. But now..." Devon pirouetted in front of the mirror.

"Y'know," she said, "I wouldn't have minded if I was a plain girl, even an ugly girl. I can't believe I'm so gorgeous!"

Myka couldn't stop smiling in delight at the happy girl. "You're not the only one," she giggled. "You should hear Pete talk."

"Hear me talk about what?" Pete said as he and Artie came into the room Myka had been sharing with Devon. The both of them were in formal tuxes as well. Pete stopped short.

"Holy..."

Myka and Devon struck a pose.

"You guys are drop-dead gorgeous!" He turned to Artie. "Artie? What do you think?"

Artie sighed. "I think we need to get a move on, otherwise we'll be late," Artie said, and turned around to leave.

"Awww, Artie," Pete said.

"Pete," Artie said over his shoulder, "let's leave the girls alone. Women don't need us around when they're trying to look pretty."

Pete turned, grinned at the girls and skipped after Artie.

"'Kay, girls," Pete said. "See you downstairs."

Devon giggled.

The police had done all the conventional things, but they still couldn't find Preston. They were all grasping at straws by now, so they were trying an idea of Devon's.

They were dressing up to attend a Sunday fundraising gala. The clinic's board arranged this kind of event at least twice a year - it was one way they were able to stay afloat financially, and because of the recent troubles they'd been having, the clinic really needed some positive press, so the board had moved the gala up to tonight, and insisted that as many of the clinic's staff attend as possible.

During her tussle with Preston yesterday, Devon had tried to push him away once and felt breasts under his shirt. They were probably implants. So this gave her an idea about his motivations. Anyway, it was Devon's theory that Preston fancied himself as some kind of surgical genius and had been "honing" his craft for the "betterment" of people like him, and he probably felt justified to experiment with the homeless as he perfected his surgical "skills."

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"He never did see Myka and he probably thinks I'm dead, so he probably thinks he's safe. If he does think that he's safe, he'll probably be going to the fundraiser. He needs the clinic to do his thing, so he would want to do everything he could to help keep it afloat."

"What about the warehouse guy?"

"He may think he was able to hide his face from the guy."

"May?" Artie asked.

Devon shrugged. "Yeah, it's a little thin, but it's the only thing I can think of. You got a better idea?"

-----

They decided to walk from Pete and Myka's hotel to the Fairfax at Embassy Row, where the fundraiser was being held. It was a pleasant night and Devon wanted to show off a bit. And they weren't scared of any pickpockets or muggers - between the four of them, muggers should be the ones to be scared.

When they got to the reception desk, they gave their names and proceeded into the banquet hall. Yesterday, Claudia hacked them into the reservation file and they now had formal invitations. Artie and Pete put on their nametags that claimed they were from a bogus organization called the Irene Frederic Foundation. Devon and Myka had similar nametags but Devon had to ask Myka's help in putting hers on.

When they stepped into the banquet hall, they found themselves surrounded by Washington DC's elite. Mayor Gray and Police Chief Cathy Lanier were in evidence, as well as several of the city's high-profile civil servants. The event wasn't that high profile so neither the president nor anyone from the White House was there, nor anyone from congress or the senate. But it was pretty star-studded enough for the clinic's purposes.

Pete and Artie lost themselves in the crowd as they looked for Preston, but Myka decided to stick with Devon. Devon appreciated her concern, but the new girl told Myka that she was fine, and that they both had jobs to do. She didn't need a babysitter.

As they were arguing softly, a couple bumped into them - an American girl and what looked to be either a pretty Japanese or Korean girl. Though both of them weren't too imposing physically (neither of them were even five-foot-three), they did make a pretty striking pair. Devon sneaked a peak and the American girl's nametag said she was from some IT consulting company.

Myka's eyes widened in recognition. "I know you!" Myka said. "Don't you drive a little silver Japanese SUV?"

The girl smiled quizzically, and they struck up a conversation. Devon took that opportunity to slip away and started casing the joint. As she did, she found herself being trailed by a bunch of charity circuit lotharios (as Devon's favorite professor from college would have put it). Devon was tickled pink, but she tried to hide her smile. She carried a glass of bourbon, her favorite drink, and she laughed inwardly as the men tried to match her drink-for-drink.

At the far end of the room, she saw Pete signal to her. She made her excuses, and the men all made disappointed sounds.

She shuffled as she tried to make the best time she could in the restrictive dress. She envied Myka's ability to walk so fast in her dress and high heels. She and Myka made it to Pete at the same time.

"Did you find him?" Devon asked.

"Artie spotted Preston by the open bar there." Pete gestured to the end of the room. They casually walked over and saw the guy. He was talking to a group of his co-workers, drinking and having a good time. Some kind of instinct made Preston turn around. Somehow, he spotted the three of them, and he broke away from his friends and ran out of the hall. The three of them gave chase.

Artie was there by the elevator doors, stopping Preston short. Artie drew his Tesla and pointed it at him. Preston took off to the right and ran for the fire escape door.

As the rest took off after him, Devon knew she wouldn't be able to keep up with them in her dress and heels. She punched the elevator button, got in and went four floors up. She then went to the fire escape door as quickly as she could, drew out her little "ray gun" and waited. She heard the clattering of people running up the stairs and then saw Preston rounding the bend.

"Stop!" she said, and raised her gun.

Preston reached for his coat pocket and Devon pulled the trigger. Bright branches of electricity crackled out from her Tesla and hit Preston full on. He jerked, like he touched a live wire, and fell down.

Devon looked at her Tesla. "Cool," she said.

Pete came up the stairs and saw Devon standing over Preston's unmoving body.

"Where'd you come from?" Pete huffed.

"I took the elevator," she smiled smugly. "Where were you?"

Pete made a face and looked down at the unconscious Preston. Preston's hand was still holding the scalpel. Pete kicked it away and proceeded to handcuff Him.

Devon bent down, about to pick up the scalpel.

"Don't!" Myka said as she reached the landing. "Don't touch it. Wait for me."

Myka pulled what looked like purple rubber gloves out from somewhere, put them on and kneeled down to pick up the knife. When she did, the knife crackled. "You need gloves like these to handle artifacts," she said. The scalpel an old-style pre world-war-one surgical knife without a removable blade.

Artie eventually reached the landing, too, puffing like he just finished a one-mile marathon.

"Artie, do you have the..."

Artie raised a finger, puffed some more and reached into his cavernous bag. He took out what looked like a large jelly jar full of blue gel. He unscrewed the cap and proffered it to Myka.

"Watch your eyes," Myka said. She dropped the scalpel into the goo and snatched her hand back. A powerful flash emanated from the jar. After which, Artie hurriedly screwed the cap back on.

"Okay, that's done." Myka said. "Snagged, bagged and tagged."

"So." Pete said to Devon. "How does it feel to complete your first Warehouse 13 assignment?"