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Darcia strode down the length of a discarded warehouse. The cement floor and long stainless steel table glowed in the glare of overhead fluorescent lights. A man hunched over tiny circuit boards barely visible through the magnifying glass perched on a stand attached to the table at one table. Darcia picked up one small metal object the technician had just laid down.

"Is it ready?" she asked, glancing at another man working on another metal object also under a magnifying glass across the table.

"Completion will be tomorrow," he said blandly, not looking up from the current task, his broad shoulders rippling under the tank top he wore. Absently he tugged at the necklace hanging around his neck, his unconscious action drawing a frown from Darcia.

"It has to be perfect," Darcia whispered, "I want everything perfect for Breanna. She will be so surprised when she sees what I have in store for her."

Raising his head, staring at her blandly while adjusting the necklace and silently returning to work.

"Have you discovered what her other abilities are?" a tall, grey-haired man with a clipboard asked.

"Only some," Darcia pouted, "I didn't even enhance those genes responsible for the new abilities. I wonder where she got them from? She didn't seem to use anything I enhanced; it's so frustrating."

"Do you think these gadgets will do their job?" the doctor asked, pointing at the metal objects.

"She will not know what has hit her," Darcia rubbed her hands, "it's time to show the world what true perfection is."

"That seems all very ... perfect," the doctor said, following her as she left the table. "What about the others? What about their abilities? Will it stop them from using their abilities," he asked. "If the others are suffering, it may antagonise Breanna. You know she has a temper."

"I know about her temper," Darcia said, stopping and turning toward the pensive man. "I think that permanent fixing of her one ability may have rippled out to other abilities. But I'm not worried about the others."

"You know her genetic lock-ins were not completed," the doctor said, "what if some adjustments have unravelled?"

"I don't think they have," Darcia said, "she didn't seem to have any emotion at all."

"If she is as you left her," the doctor whispered, "then everything should go as planned."

Darcia nodded, "If all goes as planned. Everything is done perfectly; it should be flawlessly," Darcia smiled, "then I will have her right where I want her. She will be powerless to stop me, and I can finally get what I need, and she will be gone … for good."

13th Feb – 19h00

"Breanna? You coming for dinner?" Tina called, stopping at the alcove entrance where Breanna read.

"Is it that time already?" Breanna asked, checking the time in surprise, "well, what do you know, it is?"

Joining the five identical women, Breanna found the cloning fact unnerving despite everything seen at Darcia's laboratory.

"How are you all doing?" she asked.

They began speaking in unison as though it happened all the time.

"We're managing," one said.

"Everything is so new and strange," another said.

"If not for Tina, I don't think I'd know which way is up," a third said.

"Doing fine," the fourth smiled shyly, glancing nervously at Tina.

"What have you all been doing?" Breanna asked.

"We have been going through various things," Tina smiled, "cooking, swimming and learning each other's abilities."

Breanna stopped, turning to look at the group, "Darcia genetically changed you?""

"Technically speaking, yes," Tina said quietly, "but we discovered that we function as a whole with layers. Although I wasn't genetically changed, I can use their abilities and vice versa."

"Wow," Breanna whispered, "what a discovery."

"Oh," Hana's startled gasp caught the group's attention, "there you are. I was coming to look for all of you. Dinner is waiting."

"Okay," Breanna nodded, "let's eat."

Despite the underlying tension, dinner was a social event.

"Shall we have our coffee in the living room?" Michael suggested at the end of the meal, "we can relax a little before chatting about everyone's decisions."

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Chairs scraped, continuing to chat as they moved. Breanna found a space near the fireplace and waited until the coffee arrived.

"Who wants to start?" Breanna asked.

"Can I start?" Cara asked, rubbing her fingers over her temple, "it has been a loud and busy day."

"Go ahead," Breanna said.

"I decided I want to use my abilities to protect, so I'm joining the tactical team," she said, "please can the others voice their thoughts quickly."

A few chuckles rippled, followed by a short silence before Tula moved from her corner.

"May I make it easier?" she glanced from Michael to Breanna.

"Okay," Breanna smiled.

"Since lunch, the feelings toward this decision have been mixed. Despite what was said, some feel if they decline, they will be cast aside, having nothing to contribute to the tactical team. Leaving them homeless," Tula glanced around the room. "Trust doesn't come easy to anyone. Some may not want to be part of the combat unit, but still want to help and hope they will be allowed."

"Thank you," Breanna said, "for those who want to retire, Micheal's offer still stands. No one is being pushed into anything." Breanna looked around the room, "Clio, let's start with you. Combat unit, home base or retirement?" Breanna waited.

"I'm happiest when I'm doing the ass-kicking," Clio said, "besides, I would prefer to use my abilities to protect."

"Would you mind listing those who indicate the tactical team is preferred," Breanna asked; Clio nodded. "Val, I take it you'll be wanting a spot on the base team," Valencia smiled, "please note the relevant names."

The group was small for what they set out to achieve; if everyone were involved, they held the ability to accomplish the impossible.

"Firstly, is there anyone who wants to retire?" Breanna asked.

No hands rose in the air, relief filling her lungs with air.

"Tina, where do you all want to be involved?" Breanna asked, her abilities roaming the room.

Tina and her group stood together against the wall on one side of the room. Tina looked at each of them before speaking.

"We would like to join a team," Tina said quietly, "we don't have any skills to fight, so maybe the Base Team."

"Chat with Val," Breanna said, watching the huddle of people around Clio and Valencia dissipate, "any questions?" no one spoke, "we have a team, Michael."

"Before we look at the lists," David interjected, "a few of us have been discussing the possibility we may come to this point. If there is a team, we will need a commander. We want Breanna to head up the unit."

"David, I'm… flattered, but we may not have that choice about who heads up the team," Breanna said, "this is a military unit. We may be assigned a military liaison or lead for the unit."

Michael stared at Breanna. She was playing down the role, and he knew it. Glancing away, she looked out the nearby window, watching the rain spatter against the glass.

"Does everyone feel the same way?" Michael asked.

"That is how we feel," Clio nodded.

"Breanna, you did a brilliant job with the last mission. It makes sense for you to lead this unit. Finding someone from outside this group who will understand and work with this level of uniqueness will never happen," Michael said.

"Great," Clio smiled, leaning on the back of a nearby sofa, "now that it's settled. There is the matter of who says what we will and will not do."

"I don't understand," Michael said, glancing around the room and settling on Breanna for an explanation.

"Who gives the directives," Breanna automatically supplied, "we are concerned our collective abilities will be used for someone's personal gain. We will be the tactical unit for special situations on one condition only.""

"What is the condition?" he asked.

"We will have full disclosure of all information about whatever situation we are to address," Breanna said. "We make the call whether or not we will pursue the matter..." clearing her throat, she continued, "... and we want to be paid for what we do."

"The situations will be placed before the group as a whole," Michael said, "then you decide on the course of action. Nothing more than that."

Michael watched his sister. She was still. Very still. It seemed she was listening to something no one else heard. The others continued chatting, unaware of anything unnatural.

Clio and Valencia conversed quietly on one side, pointing at their lists. Tina and her small group moved in unison, clearing away used dishes. Agreeing with the decision from the group for Breanna to lead, he was happier with the group making the request. Military personnel would not make the transition seamless; Breanna should continue filling the position for that to happen. Breanna, not wanting the leadership of the unit, disturbed him. She was guarded, careful and unwilling to take this group forward. Before she went missing, his sister wouldn't hesitate to take the lead. Now, her hesitation left him feeling the need to dig into her past to find the reason why she was irreversibly damaged. He had seen her exceptional leadership skills; none of this made any sense.

"Everything will be funded and supplied," Michael said, "why do you require payment?"

"Do you get a salary?" Breanna asked as the air crackled around him. The fine hairs rising on his arms.

"Yes," he said, instinct urging only the truth, "I do."

"What makes you different from us?" Breanna asked.

The air around him began to tighten and waver. What was going on?

"Not much different. I don't have everything supplied for me, whereas it will be provided for the team."

"You want us to be on your team," Breanna said, "those are the conditions."

"I'll speak to my superiors and see what I can do," Michael said, hoping to fill the requests.

"Fair enough," Breanna said, "is there any other topics of discussion?"

Breanna spoke to the room in general. Michael noticed some shook their heads while others talked between themselves.

"Looks like the meeting is adjourned," Breanna nodded.

Michael was unused to the dismissive ending to their discussions, nodding to Breanna before turning to leave the room. He had a conference call to make and miracles to work.

Breanna watched her brother leave; her nightmare was coming true. Holding the responsibility of others lives in her hands. Again. The operation still haunted her. She heard the screams in her dreams. Breathing deeply, she fought the rising panic. Perhaps David or Clio would take over. Moving toward the pair, Breanna was physically blocked by Cara taking her elbow and steering her toward the window away from the conversations and listening ears.

"You can't step down," Cara said, "whatever is making you second guess yourself, figure it out."

"What are you talking about?" Breanna scoffed, "I was just going to find out how far we are?"

"Nice try," Cara crossed her arms, "you're talking to the person who knows what you're thinking, and you're trying to downplay the whole thing by sidestepping. Not working."

Breanna sighed, "If you knew what..." she swallowed hard, "I can't do this, Cara. Not again."

"Again?" Cara questioned, "what is not again?"

"Um … nothing," Breanna said, edging toward the doorway, "forget I said anything."

Leaving the group chatting, Breanna took the stair to her room and solitude. Leaders were supposed to be stable and reliable. No one needed to see her waking nightmare and break down into debilitating tears.