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Our Paranormal Chernobyl
Behind the Scenes: Then Whose Fault is It?
Tuesday, 12:20 p.m., Sontag Tower

The young man in the gray suit came through the side door. His green eyes were bright, his smile irrepressible. On his Hollywood patchwork face, the effect was somewhat alarming.

"What took you so long?" Freya said angrily.

"I couldn't just run out of there, Mother—it was my big scene! I'd just held up one of the tubes that had come out of the chromatograph and announced to the security team that, gosh, the samples seem to be corrupted!" He slid into the chair. "I wish Goran had been there. I take it he's been escorted out of the building?"

"In a predictable storm of righteous indignation. Pick him up at his house—we'll need him later." The man nodded, and Freya went on. " But we've got more problems. Ms. Thorin just walked into the lobby in full armor with a cop at her side. She's headed up here."

"So?" the young man asked. "We've called the police anyway."

"You haven't been watching television. Thorin just saved the life of a 400-foot tall nude black man that appeared out of nowhere and collapsed in the street. In front of the Art Institute! A New York vigilante named Crossfire and at least one other meta in a metal mask were there as well. The black man spoke. Diamante arrived in time to see Thorin leave with two policemen, Crossfire, and another man that we haven't identified. Now Thorin's made a bee-line back to this office."

"Okay, so she has her suspicions. So does Goran. It doesn't matter."

Freya rose, her face rigid with anger. "It does matter! If there are any witnesses that link you to those plastic mercenaries, or them to Sontag Inc., I need to know about it. Now."

Freya's phone buzzed twice: Betty's signal that Thorin and the police officer were waiting in the lobby.

"Mother, there's nothing. Not a link, except for the serum itself. And that can be blamed on Goran—the poor man is scheduled to make a full confession."

"Make sure of it. Repeat after me: 'Mother, I will not fuck up again in any way.'"

"For Christ sake, it's not my fault Goran came back with that French bitch! It won't happen again. I have definitely not fucked up. Everything's proceeding perfectly. A few more hours, and we'll have our guinea pigs, and we can proceed to Phase Three."

Freya scowled. "We'll see. Call me when you've got Goran and he's no longer a risk. Meanwhile, I have to meet with Thorin and this police officer. I'd better not be surprised by what she has to—where are you going?"

"Out the front. I want to see what Thorin looks like in her armor."

"Please, do not act up."

"Oh, Mother," said the handsome young man. "Trust me."

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