Her Majesty's Secret Service

[Nathan Godfrey]

"My thoughts exactly," Nathan echoed, darkly.

There was something weighing on him; a guilt that even the current grave situation couldn't quite explain. Walter was a friend yes, and it was partly through their own collective failings that a man like Casius was still allowed to roam free; but it was deeper than that, and more personal. But like all guilty feelings that came from deep, dark secrets, Nathan planned to take the truth to his grave.

Such a shame that time's gentle touch was making his journey there so slow.

"You should be at the hospital," Nathan pointed out. His tone turned hesitant. "Unfortunately, I'm not authorised to let you leave the building with this information."

[Walter Harriman]

Walter's eyes glanced around him, drinking in the surroundings. An office full of government employees yes; but most were clerks and analysts, and few were armed. Only those near the entrance were carrying; and in such a target-rich environment, they'd hopefully be reluctant to open fire.

"Are your men authorised to stop me?"

[Nathan Godfrey]

Nathan's jacket fell open, just enough to make an inviting display of his sidearm. A faint twinkle crept into his eyes, and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he met Walter's gaze.

"They're authorised to try."

[Kat Harriman]

Lord Falsworth Memorial Hospital - London

"No..."

Kat's voice was weak; it didn't quite achieve as much force behind that sentiment as she'd intended. She swallowed, trying to get a little extra moisture into her progressively tightening throat.

"No, Tom," she tried again. "There's nothing you could do even if you were here."

Her eyes were red, and the mascara from the night before had streaked, smudged, and pasting her eyelashes together. Someone had mustered together some clothes, but she hadn't had the time or inclination to worry about her appearence; and the lack of sleep had robbed her of the effort to even smooth down her ruffled hair.

"I mean it. He's stable, and the doctors are looking after him. There's police everywhere. All you'd be able to do is stand around and feel helpless like the rest of us. And when -"

Her voice cracked, and a few fresh tears tumbled down her face. She sniffed, and fumbled the worst of them away before she tried speaking again.

"And when he comes to, I don't think an argument with you is what he'll need."

Tom tried to disagree; she cut him off. "You always do, Tom. He'll say something insensitive, and you won't be able to keep your mouth shut. Just -"

She sighed. "I'll call you later, okay?"

[Walter Harriman]

Doors were flung open as Walter Harriman burst through. He wasn't alone, either; though the registrar who'd been chasing after him since he'd declined to sign in at the entrance was clearly struggling to match his brisk face, and to dodge the spring-loaded doors that kept trying to swing into her face.

Walter didn't care. He was a man on a mission, an urgent mission, and absolutely nothing was going to distract him from -

His eyes settled on Katrina, his baby girl, and on the tear streaks plastered across her cheeks. Whatever wind had been filling his sails suddenly vanished; and his normally ironclad heart shattered in two.

In an instant he'd wisked her into his arms, gently cradling her head against his chest. He felt the moisture of her tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt, and his shattered heart sank into his gut. The only word she could muster was 'Why?', and Walter didn't have the strength to give her an answer.

"It'll be okay," he said, in as reassuring a tone as he could muster. "I'm going to make it be okay."

He pulled away, though Kat's vice-grip around his middle threatened to prevent that. "There's something I need to do," he said firmly, but gently, looking her square in the eyes. "Something I need to do to make sure that you'll all be safe." He stroked a hand across her head, smoothing down the wavy ruffles of her hair. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

Kat made another half-hearted attempt to stop his escape, but Walter broke free. It was a good thing too; any longer, and the tear he'd been fighting to keep locked in his eye would have escaped instead.

* * *

The lights were dim as Walter advanced down the corridors of intensive care. A pair of Godfrey's action man soldiers had tried to stop him a couple of doors ago, but a gruff announcement that "I'm the father," had been enough to make them step aside.

As he drew closer to where his son lay however, his pace slowed. Every footstep filled him with dread; every sound could be a potential threat. In all his years of service, fighting for Queen and country, he had never felt as scared as he did in those moments. Justified or not, he had to admit that Casius' methods were certainly having the desired effect.

His eyes landed on the appropriate numbered door; his hand reached for the handle, and turned.

The room was silent, apart from the occasional beep of medical equipment, and the steady breathing of two people - the shallow breaths of the son, mixed with those of his doctor. Jason seemed peaceful, sedated; Walter kept his voice low anyway, as if he was trying to avoid waking a child.

"How is he?" he asked, addressing the doctor.

[Hurucan]

The doctor turned, gently tugging down the elasticated mask that had shrouded his face. Years had addled his features, but the resemblance - especially those cold, vicious eyes - was unmistakable.

Casius' eyebrows rose into an expression of mock sincerity. "Oh, I am so sorry, Mr Harriman," he purred, his melodious voice laced with a sinister edge. "I don't think he's going to make it."

Walter's hand snapped into his jacket, reaching for his trusty sidearm; Casius was faster, a hand placed upon Jason's chest. "Careful now," he warned, his tone mocking. "I can stop his heart faster than you can pull that trigger." He glanced around him. "And do you really want to trust your son's life in the hands of the NHS?"

[Walter Harriman]

In his youth he might have challenged Casius' claim, but while both men had aged since the last time they'd met, Walter knew the years would have affected his gunslinging skills far worse than Casius' electrokinesis.

Walter's lip curled into a snarl. "What is it you want, Casius?" he challenged.

He risked a step closer. "What is this about? You sent someone after my son so you'd draw me out of retirement; get me here, so you can kill me and exact your revenge?"

[Hurucan]

"Casius is dead," he growled darkly. "He died the day you murdered my son."

He fell silent, his eyes watching Walter like a predator. "I have a new name now." There was a lilt in his voice that didn't sound entirely sane; and yet sounded entirely deadly. "Now, they call me Hurucan. I'm the Mayan god of storms."

A hollow laugh tumbled from his lips. "And no, Walter. I don't just want to kill you. Thirty years ago, you took my son from me. If I could travel back in time and return the favour I would but, well -"

The mirth faded. The darkness in his eyes returned. "First, I will kill this son. Then, I travel back to America, and dispose of young Thomas. And then, then -"

His lips curled into a smile fit for the devil himself. "Then I hunt down little Katrina. Each in turn, I will watch your children burned alive by lightning beneath my fingers; and you will be powerless to intervene."

[Walter Harriman]

A fist clenched around Walter's throat, and around his insides. Never had he been so afraid; and yet a tiny spark of salvation flickered into life, as a burning rage began to simmer in his heart.

"There's no way you can succeed," Walter snarled. "You've blown it - wrecked your cover; ruined your chances. The government will hunt you down and lock you up. And even if they don't -"

The glare from his own eyes was almost a match for Hurucan's. "- I will stop you."

[Hurucan]

There was almost pity in the look that Hurucan cast. "No, Walter -"

An explosion of static flooded the room, and for a split second, Hurucan disappeared. A blink of an eye later he appeared once more, fingers wrapping tightly around the scruff of Walter's shirt.

Another flash of light, and the room desolved; the bitter stench of ozone bit at the back of Walter's mouth as sky replaced ceiling, and eight stories of nothing replaced the floor beneath his feet.

Triumph shone in the eyes of Hurucan, as he pulled Walter close enough to stare into his very soul. "- I'm afraid you won't."

Fingers loosened, and Walter fell; hurtling towards the car park below.

[Kat Harriman]

Katrina crept carefully down the corridor, the polystyrene cup of coffee clutched gingerly in her fingers. Her caution was more due to it being over-full than because of it's temperature; while her mutant power seemed trivial and useless for the most part, her ability to channel heat into objects allowed her to mix drinks cold, and then heat them on arrival.

Besides, dad never drank his coffee while it was still warm anyway.

She frowned as she reached Jason's door, peering through the mesh-filled safety glass at a scrubs-wearing doctor - or nurse, probably - that she didn't recognise. The expression deepened as she noticed the total absense of her father, who'd disappeared in this direction earlier, and hadn't returned.

Gently, she pushed open the door, careful not to spill anything - coffee stains on cream converse was not a good look - calmly announcing her presence in the hopes of not making the nurse jump out of his skin. "Excuse me, have you seen -"

The coffee tumbled from her fingers as she saw the arcs of electric blue crackling from the fingers that the nurse had just placed squarely on Jason's chest. Her brother spasmed as simulated nerve signals fired off muscles all across his body.

"No!" Kat screamed, leaping towards the nurse before she even knew what she was doing. Her hands closed around his, trying to wrench them free. She channeled her powers, focusing with all her might; she felt his skin blister beneath her fingers.

Finally he recoiled, wrenching himself free of her grip, staring down at the angry red handprints slowly scarring their way into his skin. "Damn it, girl!" he shouted angrily. "It isn't your turn!" And without another word he vanished, disappearing into impossibility.

Kat didn't have time to process what was happening. Her hand fumbled at Jason's neck, searching frantically for a pulse; she felt nothing, and not a whisper escaped from his lungs.

She threw herself back towards the door, half tumbling out into the corridor. "Help!" she cried, the volume tearing at her throat. "Somebody, help!"

* * *

Continued in: A Nice Day For a Funeral