SUPREME ONE PACED the floor of B702's office. He marched to one wall, spun on his heel, and marched to the other. Three times. Right about now, shouting—though hardly appropriate—would be a welcome improvement. But the greatest improvement would be finding and reacquiring Vivian McGayen. He needed her back safe in his grasp where he could keep her out of the mess with Auclaire.

She'd grown up with him. She knew him. So why couldn't she believe that Dane—no, he was B702 since Dane didn't really exist—didn't want her dead? He'd lose his mind if this kept up. She was his. That was the only plain, simple fact left anymore. That and the precise number of hours since she'd disappeared.

Disappeared under a minefield that should have blown them sky high. No one was willing to brave the minefield they'd disappeared under, and no one had answers. He cleared his throat. "Sir, with all due respect—"

Supreme One whirled to face him. "You lost the target and the McGayen girl! I thought you said you had it under control, B702. Are you in the habit of breaking your word?"

"I..."

A glare from his contact shut the excuses down. He swallowed and shook his head.

"Good. Then explain to me why you did so this time." The Supreme One's lips turned up in a twisted smile beneath his cowl. "And make it good. How well you lie this time determines how long you live."

"I misjudged the McGayen girl, sir. We were on good terms, so I assumed we'd discuss it like adults. Instead, she became angry and frightened, and she ran."

"So, not only did you let her out of your sight, but you also revealed your identity to her so she could blow your cover." Supreme One shook his head and lifted a hand to his shadowed face. "Because you've been such a loyal disciple of the cause, I will give you one more chance to fix this. Find the McGayen girl. Get rid of Auclaire. After that, I don't care what you have to do. You will force Vivian McGayen to join our side, and you will remove the false memories."

"But that would leave—"

"Nothing? Exactly. A blank slate to work with. Mostly. You'll have to take her to the Lab to have the memories she's made for herself removed." Supreme One turned his back to B702.

And in that moment, B702—no, Dane, he decided, because they weren't going to take away his name or anything else anymore—had to face his reality. Viv would never get out of this unharmed as he'd been promised. She would be wiped, married off to him, and turned into a good puppet for the cause. Maybe it was time to switch sides. Play to his own cause. It wasn't what he'd planned to do, but to save Vivian, it might be his only choice.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out, Dane?" Supreme One spit his childhood name out like it was something putrid.

Dane winced and ducked his head. "No, sir. I just..."

"Didn't know how to tell me?"

"Precisely, sir. I had hoped to contain the situation on my own. You did request that I handle it, so I didn't want to bother you if I could fix it. I—"

Supreme One lifted a hand to his neck and pressed his button. Dane's throat closed up. Air came in and out, but no sound.

"I'm tired of the excuses, B702. You can have your voice back when you can refrain from giving excuses for your failures."

He banged a fist on the desk in a futile attempt to get Supreme One's attention back on him. It failed, of course. Supreme One ignored him and walked out. The office door slammed shut behind him. Dane let out a string of curses. All in his head now, thanks to his contact. His handler. Now there was a dirty word. Handler. As if he was some out-of-control animal that needed to be kept tame. He gritted his teeth. Yes, he needed to play to his own side. But until he got his voice back, he'd have to find a way to make Supreme One believe he was playing to their side. At the same time, he would find their weaknesses. Once he had those, he'd bring them down one at a time.

Who better to do it, anyway? He had all the inside knowledge except their weaknesses, and he had the training he needed to go up against them if he could discover their identities. He clenched his fists on the desk. The Supremacy thought they had everything so under control. Well, he was done letting them control him. What did they think he was? A puppet?

He was a human being with the capacity for thought. They'd turned him into a weapon thinking they could turn him on their enemies at will? Not anymore. He'd turn that weapon back on them and make them sorry they chose to lie to him, steal what was rightfully his, and cross every line of tolerance and conformity they constantly tossed out to a society starving for attention from their government. As if they didn't have it every single day in the form of thousands of cameras and listening devices monitoring their every move. Ridiculous.

This game was one where the tolerant and conformant lost. Every time. The Supremacy was in charge because they chose to take advantage of those too dumb or too idealistic to realize that when tolerance smothered difference and conformance, when it took away individuality, it ruined a society. Those ideals and philosophies doomed them from the start. All it would take was a crack in the dam of tolerance and conformance the government was so proud of to let out the flood of betrayal, anger, and resentment. He might have to wake those feelings first, but he would, and when he did, when he put that crack in the Supremacy's light-cursed facade, they would be done for, and he would be in charge.

He was done being the villain in everyone else's book. If he had to take the pen by force, so be it. He'd be the hero. He'd win the girl. He would have what he'd been working for, just like they always promised. For once, someone would force them to keep their promises. No more lies. No more whitewashed walls that hid bones inside. No more. He was his own man, and first chance he had, they were going down.

SEB HOVERED BY her bed and smoothed her hair out of her face. He turned to Mr. H, who was watching closely from the doorway. He sighed and nodded at her still form. "We need to get it out of her before they use it to track us here. She said you could help."

Mr. H's clear gaze fell on Viv. "I can. But it won't be easy. I can't promise she'll survive. If they put any anti-removal detection software into it, it may kill her."

Seb swallowed hard. "Kill her? You mean you can't just dig it out?"

"No, no, no..." Mr. H sighed and hobbled in, running a hand through his graying beard. "Much more complicated than that. I have to work on the device just so if I want to get the tentacles to retract from her brain."

"Tentacles? In her brain?" He swallowed and fidgeted with his shirt's hem.

Mr. H eased onto the side of the bed and smiled fondly at Viv's sleeping form. "The devices hook into your brains, Sebastian. It opens up neural pathways that your brain never had before to allow the miraculous things you can do."

"Then why doesn't mine work?"

"Yours, from what young Viv has told me, was meant to kill you. So really, it's a miracle you're alive. The Father protects His own."

He crossed his arms. "Not doing a very good job of it right now, is He? Viv needs a procedure that might kill her, you're risking your life even having us here, and all of us are fugitives now."

Mr. H smiled, wrinkles lining his weathered face. "Son, if that's what you think, you aren't looking around."

He frowned and flopped into the chair beside Viv's bed. She hadn't woken up in two days. He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her palm. If she didn't wake up soon, she'd wither away. He'd lose her. A lump lodged in his throat. "What else should I be looking around at?"

Mr. H pointed to the bed and Viv. "At her. She's alive. He took care of her even though she didn't care for herself. He brought her to you, didn't He? She shouldn't have made it this far. And you. Your button should have killed you. Instead, He kept you alive, and that button let you escape two days ago. And now, He has brought you to me, the only person nearby who can get that tracker out of her."

"But if you remove it, she'll never rejoin society again."

"And is that so bad? Tell me, Sebastian. Is this society one you really want to be a part of? Are you so desperate to fit in even when you aren't meant to? Would you rather conform to the world out there who would kill while going on about tolerance for all? You would have no love and turn your back on the One who has kept you alive for what? A society like that?"

Seb buried his face in his hands. "I don't know, Mr. H. Every decision seems awful right now."

Mr. H's hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed with surprising strength. "You know what's right, and you know who has the answers."

He did, but did he have enough faith? What if he messed all of this up? What if they caught up and took Viv away? Killed him?

"Son, listen to me very closely."

Seb lifted his head.

"You were not created for yourself. You are here for His glory, and whether you live or you die, you do it for His glory. So live like it. Stop worrying about what will happen to you. He knows it all and has worked it into His plan. We all have a time to go, some sooner than others, but it is never outside His will or His time."

Warmth flowed through him and tingled in his fingertips. It was as if the old man was giving him a hug without even touching him. He closed his eyes, a sense of strength and determination rising inside. Mr. H was right. He didn't know much about the Father, but he knew one thing. Serving Him might be rough, but he'd always be given what he needed. For the first time since his escape with Viv, the hilarity of their method of escape struck him. Who else but the Father could use an animate flower and an affable, overly-excitable retriever to buy them time to escape? He chuckled. "I hadn't thought of it like that, I guess."

"He's growing your faith, son. Won't be an easy road for either you or Vivian, but it's your road. Walk it with humility and look to him for guidance. You'll make it to the end of this journey fine." He rubbed his hands together and turned to leave. "Now, I'd better go prepare the instruments. This will be easier if she's out, anyway."

"Mr. H?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Thank Him, son. He's the one who taught me that lesson many years ago so that I could share it with you today." Mr. H hobbled out of the room.

Sebastian sat there in silence. The sense of dread he'd felt earlier was gone. In its place was firm resolve and a certainty that the Father would provide. Mr. H was right. He hadn't gotten here by luck. And the random push of a button hadn't been so random after all. Since that first attempt on his life, and even before that when he couldn't see it, his life had been a miracle of the Father. Now he knew why he was here. He had a job to do. He couldn't let the truth die. He had to stand up and fight. Even if no one followed, he would fight. Fortunately, he knew plenty of people who would be more than willing to fight for the truth with the weapons at their disposal, and so far, those weapons were unlike anything he'd ever seen.