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“How about this?” Jean said, holding up a tattered pair of cutoff jean shorts. “I wear it to lesbian bars a lot.”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Jean, perhaps you didn’t notice the ten feet of snow on the ground.” He said, looking at the skimpy garment. “We don’t want him to catch pneumonia.”

“Oh, whatever.” She said, putting it away. “Well, this shirt looks good.” She held out a black baby tee with a bat on the front, which was drawn in a very stylized fashion, and had two plastic sequins for eyes.

“Well, it’s tacky.” Jason said. “But it is kind of cute, and I think he would look good in something that’s got a perkigoth feel.” He gave it the okay, and Jean sat it aside.

“This would go with it, even though no one would see it.” She said, holding up some boxer shorts with glow in the dark skulls.

“Jean, he’s not wearing your underwear.”

“And why not?” She asked, indignant. “Am I too filthy down there or something?” She wasn’t serious, and was only trying to get a reaction.

“Okay, fine, he can wear that.” Jason said.

“Now, we just need pants and a coat.” She said, digging around in the closet. “These look good.” She said, pulling out some stylish black vinyl pants. They would certainly be tight and revealing, which was clearly her intent. Jason, for his part, was nervous about any romantic involvement, so he was a bit annoyed by the breakneck speed at which Jean was taking this, as he didn’t want to push Adam in to anything too fast, for fear it would complicate his recovery.

“It’s okay.” Jason said. “It won’t breathe at all, so I guess it will be warm.” She added it to the pile.

“Now, for a coat. How about this?” She said, holding up a shiny black vinyl coat, which matched the pants and complimented the shirt nicely. Jason nodded.

“Okay, one last thing.” She said, looking at her dresser. “He has that ponytail, and I didn’t see what was holding it in place, but I doubt it’s anything very nice.” She said, lifting a reddish-pink ribbon. “This should work well.”

“Has it occurred to you that he doesn’t have any shoes?” Jason asked, picking up the bundle of clothes.

“No, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have a solution!” She said, picking up a pair of black socks. “No one will now the difference, and we can take him shoe shopping first.”

“And where are we going shopping?” Jason asked.

“The Falls Church Promenade.” She responded, clearly having something expensive in mind. Jason had no objection, and was actually looking forward to this, despite how ridiculous Jean was acting.

Agent Ellis was going over a large amount of paperwork related to the interrogations and interviews with the staff of Serenity. Their behavior was strange, to say the least; some of them were confessing all they knew in hope of leniency, although whether or not they would get it was another matter, considering how serious the situation was. A few had attempted suicide in captivity, while some were being extremely defiant and uncooperative. Most of them were not even registered medical professionals of any sort, and Grant wondered how they were involved in this. Some of the ones who were cooperating claimed that Lee and a few other staff members were drugging the staff as well as the patients, and using mind control to make them go along with what he wanted. Under most any other circumstances, Grant would have dismissed this as sheer nonsense, but given the Org involvement, he could not rule it out; he ordered drug tests and bloodwork for all of the staff members, who were arrested, to see if there was anything to this claim. A few other complications had arisen; the Org had their religious right goons, including the ACLJ, all over this, trying to claim the staff was being persecuted for practicing their religion. Obviously, this assertion was laughed off, but the fundies were getting plenty of cooperation from the media, who were more than willing to blame the victims and fan the flames of sensationalism.

Based on the accounts given by the staff, Lee was indeed trying to brainwash the patients, and thought the staff had no idea why, Grant surmised that it was part of their Manchurian program to create brainwashed killers, something they had been working on since MK-ULTRA and earlier. He was almost certain that the escaped patients who were suspected to be involved in the assaults he and Jason went there to investigate were a test run, to see how well they worked, and the patient who tried to kill Grant was one of these test cases, given the knife to silence him. This didn’t account for everything; the giant meat grinder, the treatment of Adam, and a number of other things didn’t seem to be connected to this, but they could have been doing multiple things at Serenity. Adam’s treatment was most likely an attempt to see if the clones could be ‘modified’ to the Org’s liking, while another part of it seemed pure hatred and sadism towards Adam because of what he was.

A few of the staff members had mentioned “the basement”, and how very few staff members were allowed in, and only one patient ever went down there on a regular basis; a very eccentric, dangerous guy who everyone called “M”. None of the staff who were cooperating went to the basement, which led Grant to deduce that what was happening there was deemed too shocking and too sensitive for all but the few true believers, the active Org members. But why was this “M” allowed down there? Perhaps he was a success in the mind control method, and was an automaton, a brainwashed slave? A few staff members said no documentation was ever kept on what went on in the basement, but those ‘in the know’ called it “Project Green.” Grant was unsure of what to make of that, or if it had any meaning at all. So much still needed to be done, and a good deal of forensic evidence was waiting to be examined. He would have to recommend commendations be given to Agent Lynch and Agent Carpenter, as they had been breaking their backs trying to get to the bottom of this.

Jason and Jean walked down the long corridor leading to the young adult ward, where Adam was housed. Jason carried the bundle of clothing, while Jean carried nothing but her messenger bag. Jason was dressed in a tight diesel t-shirt and faux worn designer jeans, along with his black leather boots and a prada jacket. Jean wanted to make sure he looked presentable and attractive to Adam. The two were buzzed through the door to the ward, and walked in to the large day room. Most of the patients were sitting at various tables, playing cards or board games, while the staff walked around attending to various tasks. No one met them to ask what they wanted, so they headed to Adam’s room, since he was nowhere to be seen out here. The door was open, and the duo peeked in, to see him sitting on the bed, drawn up in to a ball, looking at a magazine. Jean knocked on the doorframe loudly before Jason could announce their presence in a more reasonable manner.

“Hey there!” She called, loudly, getting Adam’s attention. He sat down the magazine and climbed off the bed, padding over to his visitors.

“Hi!” He said, enthusiastically. “Thanks for coming back!”

“Not a problem.” Jean said. “Besides, we’re here with a purpose.”

“Slow down.” Jason said, pushing his way in to the room. “How are you feeling today?” He asked, leading Adam to the bed and sitting him down, then taking a seat next to him, placing the clothes on the other end of the bed.

“Okay.” He said. “Everything is so nice here! The bed’s are really soft, and the food is good, and everyone is nice and no one hurts anyone else, and there’s no screaming all the time, and…” He went on, filled with joy at being here.

“Has Frankie spoken to you yet?” Jason asked, wondering about a preliminary diagnosis.

“Oh, yeah, she did an interview earlier. It was kinda fun.” He said, smiling. “She said it was a bit too early to tell, but she thinks I have Bipolar and Post Trauma Stress something.”

“Post Traumtic Stress Disorder.” Jason corrected. “It’s not unusual for someone who has gone through what you have.”

“She’s got me on these large pink pills that smell funny.” He said. Jason surmised that this was probably depakote, a medication he had taken himself. As they spoke, Jean took a seat in the armchair in the corner and began playing her GBA.

“Okay. I’ll speak with her myself later, and see what else she has to say. Did she record your interview?” He asked, curious. Adam nodded in response. He would ask for it to be sent to the Hoover building so he and Grant could review it and look for any important details Frankie might have missed. He would probably miss some of them himself, considering how far behind he was in the details of the case, which was being made worse by this impromptu shopping trip, but he was glad to be here nonetheless.

“Listen, we brought you some clothes so you have something else to wear. They belong to Jean, so they should fit you just fine. We’re also going to see about getting a day pass so we can take you shopping.”

“Shopping?” He said, quizzically.

“Yeah, so we can get you a wardrobe of your own.” He said. “For now, you should get in to these, while me and Jean go talk to Frankie and get the pass.” He said, sitting up. “Come on Jean.” She grunted in response, her attention now on her handheld.

Agent Carpenter stared at his sushi, lost in thought, until his partner broke him out of this trance.

“Hey, Dave!” He said, apparently having tried to get his attention for a few moments now.

“What? Sorry, I was thinking about things.” He said, sheepishly.

“About what?” He asked, dipping a piece of nigiri in his shoya.

“I guess I’m still in shock over everything we’ve found.” He said. “Now, with what Agent Ellis is telling us, and the results we got from the lab about that…meat, well, it has a way of shaking you up.”

Agent Lynch nodded in agreement; he too was finding this case taking a toll on him, and he thought that once this was over, it would be time to spend some of the vacation days he had saved up, and that Agent Carpenter should do the same. The two had been meaning to take a trip to Paris at some point, and now the idea seemed more appealing than ever. They had spoken with one of their forensics labs earlier, which had analyzed the ground flesh and some of the chemicals that were being stored in the walk in freezer, apparently used to treat it; it was being treated with some kind of chemical cocktail of testosterone and several unidentified designer compounds, the purpose of which was still unclear. It is unknown which, if any, of the patients was fed this stuff, and the staff who was involved wasn’t talking, so they had no way of knowing what this stuff was supposed to do, or if it worked at all. The Nazi’s and the Japanese unit 731 had conducted all sorts of horrific “experiments” on Jews, P.O.W.’s, and others during the Second World War, but many of these seemed to be pure sadism, never meant to actually learn anything. Agent Lynch was convinced that this was largely the case here; it had all the trappings of some mad scientist at work, but in reality these people were just sick and twisted, indulging in suffering for it’s own sake, the way some kids will pull the wings off a bug for no reason but to see it squirm and writhe; only in this case, they went for something other than insects. The profile of potential serial killers was so well known that it was almost a cliché; pyromania and tormenting animals as a child were often signs that someone would grow up to be a potential serial murderer. Agent Lynch wondered if the people involved with the tortures that had gone on at Serenity would have been serial killers themselves if they had not fallen in with The Org, who simply gave them a more organized, hidden way to express these urges. He was fairly confident that, if they looked in to the background of these people, many of them would prove to have exhibited all the telltale signs in their childhood.

“This was your idea, wasn’t it Jean?” Frankie said, smiling, as Jason and Jean sat in her office. Jean grinned, more than willing to take credit.

“Yep!” She said with glee. “And it’s a great idea!”

“Well, he does need new clothes.” Frankie agreed. “And it seems that he’s been locked away for several years, at least. He’s pretty strong and resolute, so getting out in the open will probably do more good than harm. I’ll write up the pass right now.” She said, wondering if Jean was now trying to get the two boys together.

“Jean is trying to get us together.” Jason said, as if he was reading her mind. She looked u and arched an eyebrow.

“Really? Are you starting your own dating service Jean?” She asked. Jean had a look of smug self-satisfaction on her face.

“Of course not. I only serve an elite clientele, not the unwashed masses.” She said, making little sense. “Besides, do you dispute that they’re right for each other?”

“Oh come on Jean.” Jason began. “He’s involved in the case, so I have a legitimate reason to give him attention.”

“Do you take all your witnesses clothes shopping?” Frankie asked jokingly, as she wrote up the day pass. Jason did not answer. “Just be careful. He’s probably more emotionally fragile than it seems, so if you insist on trying to put him back together, take it slowly, and don’t forget to work in tandem with me.” Frankie said, handing them the slip of paper.

“We wouldn’t dream of it.” Jean said, offering a mock salute for no apparent reason.

Lunch was over, which meant Agent Lynch and Agent Carpenter were back on the job. They were relieved that most of the evidence had been moved off the premises of Serenity, and therefore neither of them had to spend any further time there. The place was beginning to wear them down, as they found it increasingly creepy and foreboding, making them more than eager to spend the remainder of this investigation at other locales, including the empty conference room they currently occupied. Agent Carpenter was examining the stack of paperwork, drawings, patient requests, and all sorts of other paperwork that had been shipped to them. The lab was making little headway with the chemical compounds, which they were still unable to fully identify. Agent Lynch was hoping the paperwork would yield more information, but so far it was only raising more questions.

“As you might expect,” Agent Carpenter began. “none of this seems to be legitimate mental health documentation. It’s made to look like it is, but to the trained observer, it quickly falls apart and is recognized as something else entirely.” He said, placing the document he was holding on the table in front of him.

“So, what exactly is it documenting?” Agent Lynch asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Well,” Agent Carpenter began. “it seems to concern reactions to drugs, as well as various procedures and stimuli; everything from the machinery in the walls to how patients react to the humiliation of being given diuretics and subsequently urinating on themselves.” Agent Lynch couldn’t help but note that only Agent Carpenter could say that with such analytical detachment.

“As we suspected, behavior modification and mind control seem to be the primary goal, as far as there is a coherent, identifiable goal at all.” He said, looking at another document. “From what I can tell, and based on the email I was sent by agent Ellis, bringing us up to speed on the interrogations, one of the activities of the staff was to seemingly trick the patients in to fighting each other.”

“Fight each other?” Agent Lynch said, disgusted. “For fun or just to see what would happen?” His sarcasm was apparent, but it seemed to latter of his speculations was the correct one.

“Well, in certain patients they were trying to raise aggression, make them more violent, no doubt as part of the Manchurian project. They would record how quickly it would take for agitated patients to come to blows, or how long it would take a single angry patient to pick a fight with someone. We should send this information to Mrs. Ellis, so she is aware which patients were conditioned to be violent.”

“That’s a good idea.” Agent Lynch said. “I’ll contact Grant once we’re done here and arrange to have copies of these files sent to Pine Hills. What else have you found?”

Agent Carpenter responded by pulling out another document; a scrap of paper with a strange geometric shape drawn on it, with an “M” in the lower right corner, as if it were a signature.

“This is curious.” He said. “Not so much the symbol itself, but the letter M here. I’m wondering if this is connected to the paper I found in the basement.”

“Agent Ellis said that some of the staff confessed to knowing that something was going on in the basement, but none of the cooperating ones were allowed down there. What’s strange is that only one patient, a guy they called “M”, was sent there regularly.”

“Agent Lynch, would you mind handing me the paper we found in the basement? I sat it over there near you when we came in.” Agent Lynch complied, handing the paper to his partner, who began scrutinizing it with a magnifying glass.

“Do you have any of the evidence photos from the basement on your laptop?”

“Yeah. What do you need?” He asked, wondering where this was going.

“Let me see the one of the meat grinder, with the writing on it.” In a few moments, Agent Lynch had pulled it up, and was holding the paper next to the laptop screen for comparison; what he had discovered was plain even for an untrained eye to see.

“Whoever wrote this list of M related words also wrote the phrase on the machine, and signed this paper.” He said. “I think we should find out who this M is, and speak with him.”

Jason and Jean looked over Adam, who stood in his room, showing off his new outfit. It fit him very well, and despite being a little tight, he seemed to like it.

“Very nice!” Jean said. “You’ll have all the hot boi’s after you in not time!” She teased, winking, causing Adam to blush.

“Do you think I look nice?” He asked Jason, a hint of innocence and vulnerability in his voice.

“Of course.” Jason said, smiling. “The shirt in particular looks really good on you.” Jason told him, trying not to give away just how sexy he found Adam in this outfit. They style seemed just right for him.

“So,, are you ready to go kid?” Jean asked, crossing her arms.

“I don’t have any shoes.” Adam said, wondering if this would mean he couldn’t leave.

“Not a problem.” Jean said. “We’ll go shoe shopping first, so don’t fret.”

With that, Jean was leading the two boys down the hall, Jason hanging behind and accompanying Adam, who, for his part, wished to remain beside his savior anyway. He liked Jean well enough, but felt himself drawn to the F.B.I. agent for reasons he could not explain. Jason was eager to make this a good day for the boy.

Frankie sat behind her desk, writing down the description Grant had given her.

“Okay. 6’4, short, tangled brown hair, likes to wear masks?”

“That’s what they told me.” Grant said, recounting the description the staff had given him of “M”. He also copied the documents she would need, and faxed them to her.

“Well, I don’t think we have anyone that tall, but I could check again.” She said. “What exactly do they want to speak to this guy about?” She asked.

“Well, Agent Carpenter is certain that he’s the one who wrote “corpse grinder” on that machine, and what the staff tells me indicates that M operated that machine or did something else down there regularly. We can’t figure out what the chemical being used on that ground flesh was, so we’re hoping he might know something.”

“Okay then. Aside from records of the patients who were tricked in to fighting each other, is there anything else you’re sending me?”

“A few things related to M. A memo he wrote, although it doesn’t make any sense, and a weird drawing.” Frankie listened, as she walked to the whirring fax machine, which was spitting out the last few documents. She picked up the one on the top, and looked it over.

“Grant,” She began “the drawing, is it this weird pattern of geometric lines?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Adam was drawing this thing today too.” She said, looking at it.

“Maybe he knows something. I think I heard him mention something about an ‘M’ to Jason and Jean when they brought him in.” Grant said. “You should ask him about it.”

The trio was about to head out the door, when an aide interrupted them.

“Hey, Jason right?” A woman asked, approaching them.

“Yeah. Can I help you?”

“Oh, Mrs.. Ellis told me to stop you, she wanted to ask you guys about something before she left. She’s on her way now.” The aide said, and then returned to the front desk.

“Must be important.” Jean mused aloud. A moment later, Frankie appeared in the doorway leading to the rest of the building.

“Hey!” She said walking towards them, holding two pieces of paper. “Can we have a seat over here for a moment? I need to ask Adam about something.” They all drifted to the couches and chairs in the waiting area, and Frankie began to fiddle with the two papers.

“Adam,” she began “you were drawing this earlier, correct?” She said, holding up the paper of his geometric pattern.

“Yeah.” He said. “What about it?”

She then held up the paper that had been faxed, showing a similar symbol, but slightly more in depth.

“I was faxed this by Grant. He says someone the staff is calling “M” drew it. Do you have any idea who that might be?”

Adam responded right away.

“Yeah. I was telling Jason and Jean about it. I think Grant heard me too. He’s the one who named the place Narrentum. He also painted it outside, near the door to the smoking area.” Adam explained. “I knew I had seen that thing before. He would draw it on stuff, even drawing it on the front and back of his shirt in marker.”

“Adam, what can you tell me about this M person?” She asked.

“Not much.” Adam said. “He never really spoke to anyone, and when he did, he never made any sense. He was really intense and creepy.” Adam went on. “The staff would sometimes take him away, and we wouldn’t see him for hours or days. No one knew where he went, or what his deal was, and no one liked to talk to him, so we never really asked.” He said. “Am I in trouble for drawing it?” He asked.

“No! No.” She reassured him. “We’re just trying to find this guy. Grant wants to ask him some questions.”

“Oh.” Adam said. “He didn’t come here with everyone else?”

“Not that I can tell.” Frankie said. “The staff said he was about 6’4, with tangled brown hair, and he liked to wear masks. No one fitting that description is here, though.”

“I always thought the M stood for Mask.” Adam said. “But he would sometimes just list of all these other word starting with M. I never really gave much attention to that, though.”

“You sure he wasn’t brought here?” Jason asked, wondering where he might have gone, as well as feeling irritated that he was not directly involved in the investigation at the moment.

“No. I’ve spoken to the staff, and no one that tall, much less fitting the rest of the description is here. Adam, you said he would vanish for days at a time. When was the last time you saw him before Jason and Grant came?”

Adam thought for a moment, then responded. “About three days, I guess.” He said. “I wasn’t really keeping count, but that should be about right.

“Okay. Thanks.” Frankie said, getting up. “That’s all I need. I’ll go speak with Grant.” And with that, she was off, leaving the trip slightly confused, but none of them dwelling on this too much.

Grant sat in Faireborne’s office, sipping a glass of wine the director had poured for him, one that Maureen’s Grandfather had laid down several decades ago. He enjoyed it, but his distraction was keeping him from giving it his full attention. Will was brought up to speed on the investigation, although Agent’s Lynch and Carpenter were not present, as they were still engrossed in the documents from Serenity.

“I suspect he’s gone for good.” Grant said of the mysterious M. “Adam said he would vanish for days, and hadn’t seen him for several days by the time we arrived.”

Faireborne could see where Grant was headed with this.

“And if the patients being conditioned were released as a trial run, to test the killing potential they were trying to instill in them…”

“Then M was probably outside doing just that when we arrived, and is probably still out there right now. Now that Serenity is gone, he has no where to come back too, and I doubt he’s going to turn himself over to the authorities.”

“Well,” Faireborne began “It would be easier to make that determination if we had any idea of how the releases were conducted. Did the patients just come back on their own, or did they have handlers? What about tracking devices or transponders?”

Grant had no definitive answers.

“None of the staff that are talking were involved in the releases, as far as we can tell. Their superiors seems to be the ones who orchestrated that, and they’re still silent.”

“How the hell do we get any further?” Faireborne asked. “They’ve been charged, they have legal counsel, some of whom, I’ve told, quit, because of how uncooperative they’ve been, and they know there’s no way out. There must be some other way to get these people to talk.”

“I’m no expert in that area.” Grant said. “Maybe the patients know something; once they’ve calmed down we can begin speaking with them. There’s still the chance that Carpenter and Lynch will turn up something.”

“All we have now are strands, scraps.” Will said, pacing back and forth. “We still can’t form a coherent picture, and so many elements seem random and meaningless, making it that much more confusing.” He took a drink of wine, and gazed out the window at the street below.

“We know this was part of their brainwashing program, and they were trying to make killers. But how does the human meat figure in to it?” He asked. “We also need to identify who these patients are, who their families are, and see if any of them are complicit in this.”

“We’re going to get on that as soon as we can.” Grant said. “Frankie wants to take it slow with them, and I can’t blame her.” Will offered no objection to this, as he generally deferred to her in these situations.

“How often do we have to go through this?” Well asked. “We find one of their operations, break it up, beat them hell out of the Org for whatever it is they were doing, and then we think we’ve crippled them, but they come right back out of the ground like vermin. It’s like a damned insect infestation or something.” He sat his wine glass down on the desk, and took his seat. “The council is going to have a meeting on Friday. It would be sooner, but everyone is so spread around right now and dealing with other things that we can’t swing it any sooner. I want you there, and I want Lynch and Carpenter there, I don’t care how damned busy they are.” He said, half-jokingly. Grant smiled.

“Those guys gripe,” he began “but they love the official stuff. Makes them feel on top of the world.”

“Well, on top of the world or not, they’re damn fine agents, just like you and Jason are.” He said. “We’re knee deep in this mess right know, but don’t think your performance hasn’t gone unnoticed. It was pure chance you guys happened upon this, but you did good work all the same. Jason’s at Pine Hills helping with that Adam kid, and Agents Lynch and Carpenter have been going round the clock, holding themselves together through one horrific discovery after another; you guys are a credit to the F.B.I.”

Frankie walked down the hall of the ward, heading for a seclusion room that was currently occupied by a woman from Serenity. She checked her list, and she was one of the patients listed as being part of the fighting activities. She shook her head, unable to come to terms with how anyone could do such a thing to another human being, especially one in their care. She took her job seriously, and was always puzzled by the cruelty that had once dominated this profession, a cruelty that had been run out by efforts of her and Maureen Dawkins. She paced around in the hall a bit, wondering what to make of this, wondering if she could rehabilitate this patients or not. Regardless of the outcome, she would try, and even if she somehow knew she would fail, she would try anyway.

Agents Lynch and Carpenter sat in Café Au Lait, a chain of coffeehouses in the D.C. area that was well liked by both the professionals and the hipsters. Agent Ellis had told them to take the following day off and clear their minds, an offer they gladly accepted.

“So,” Agent Lynch began. “We’ve been talking about that trip to Paris for a while.” He said. “I think that after we finish with this case, there wouldn’t be anything else I would rather do.”

Agent Carpenter smiled at his partner in response, and sat down his latte.

“That sounds like a good idea.” He said, warmly. “I for one could use a vacation. But after what we found in that basement, I could do without a tour of the catacombs.” Agent Lynch began laughing, and his partner-followed suit.

“I think I like these.” Adam said, looking at the pair of Diesel shoes on his feet; they were yellow, and grey, with a very futuristic look to them. Jason thought they looked like the shoes Tidus wore in Final Fantasy 10. This was their first stop, and already things were going smoothly. Adam seemed a bit overly curious about things, but at a glance he wasn’t behaving any more strangely than anyone else. Jason was glad to see that he was doing so well, and wondered if this meant he would be able to recover and be integrated back in to society, despite what had occurred.

“Okay then.” Jason said. “We’ll get these.”

“But I don’t have any money.” Adam said, sheepishly.

“Jason can pay for it!” Jean said, grinning. “He’s rich!”

“You are?” Adam asked.

“No!” Jason said. “I mean, my parents are rich, but I’m not! I’m just an F.B.I. agent.”

“He also wants to make his own way in the world without help from them.” Jean explained.

“That’s an exaggeration.” Jason said, as they headed to the counter. After paying for the shoes, they stepped in to the outside court area of the mall, just as snow began falling.

“More snow!” Jean shouted. “We should wait until it gets really thick on the ground and then build a snow fort, and throw snowballs at yuppies!” She said excitedly.

“Let’s not, and say we didn’t.” Jason advised, leading them down the path towards the main building.

“Where else are we going?” Adam asked.

“The Diesel store, Urban Outfitters, the gap, the Hugo Boss store, oh, and I wanna sop at EB Games!” Jean said, glad to make this outing in to a complete one. “And lets go to that Italian joint over there, on the way out.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh.” Jason said, finding her exuberance bothersome. Adam walked alongside Jason, and slowly looped his arm underneath Jason’s, who looked to the boy. Adam was smiling, and looked very content; his eyes were bright and happy, brighter than a thousand suns and sparkling with a vast optimism that Jason found somewhat baffling, given what he had been through. He found Adam’s optimism refreshing, and his innocent demeanor cute. He began to think that Jean’s idea of playing matchmaker was a pretty good one after all. Jason looked around, at the falling snow, the glowing lights, the solar panels on the roof, the wind turbines in the distance, the airplanes overhead, the visual noise of the crowd, the colors blurring together, the shining store signs, the billboards advertising new companies amidst an economic book, and the society that crashed around it, like waves against a shore. Here he was again, in the midst of a society he had gone to great lengths to save years ago, with someone who he had rescued from the horror that sought to bring it all down. He felt a sense of closure on a chapter of his life, and that a new, better one was beginning. It seems that, at least on a personal level, the battle that began in the country in 1999 had ended, and the fires of hate that were set by those who hated modernity had been beaten back. Jason was content, and was eager to see what the future would bring.