A wave of heat rushed past his head, bringing him to the hellish awareness around him. All he could feel was heat as he fought with his weakened body for escape. He lay still, the faint scent of burning cloth causing his nose to twitch as its acrid smoke filled the air. In his chaotic surroundings, he felt an ironic sense of peace that further fought against his instinctive need to flee from danger. He realized he was holding his breath when his lungs began to burn and he inhaled sharply, his body instantly wracked with horrendous coughing as the smoke filled air rushed into the starved organs.

Limiting himself to small, forced breaths he became aware of a tremendous cacophony of pain that spread across his temples and settled into the middle of his forehead. The pain threatened to split his head apart and he raised a hand to his forehead only to have its path impeded by some unseen obstacle. He feared he had gone blind until he realized his eyes closed. The reddened orbs opened and and stared into the grey expanse, still unable to see anything through the haze of moisture laden, sensitive eyes. He felt a small amount of ease at not having any strong aversion to limited space as discarded pieces of crumpled and torn metal lay littered all around him, some close enough to press him into the small space he occupied.

Using his hands to maneuver out of his forced position, his eyes blinked away soot and ash that fell softly onto his face. He was able to move down a couple of inches before his feet brushed against something about which he feared hazarding a guess. The space had widened and he was able to turn over, protecting his face from the floating debris. Finding a more comfortable position proved a further advantage as the slow crawl through the heated darkness gave no sign of ending quickly.

He didn't know how much time had passed before a faint light appeared, causing a tunnel of blinding white light to lance into his weary eyes. He never put much faith in the stories of people returning from the dead and remembering a tunnel of light; but, a weak smile appeared when he thought of himself taking such a journey. He was almost to what appeared to be the source of the light when a figure partially blocked the opening causing shadows to play upon the surfaces around him. It seemed an all more realistic fate that a demon had appeared at the last moment to steal him away from the light and deposit him in his true, final resting place.

He laughed slightly and continued his trek, finding not the scorching, sulfuric pit of hell, but a dark night scented with a cool, sweet breeze that caused him to shiver. He closed his eyes as the weariness took over and felt strong arms catch his slack body, pulling it from the blinding entrapment. He didn't catch what they were saying as he felt himself being laid down on a flat surface where strong, soft fingers stroked his face, looking for injuries. His shoulder was throbbing, the burning pain quickly increasing and he shut down, operating on automatic. He offered no resistance as the sharp prick of a needle barely registered over the welcome numbness quickly shrouding everything in a fog of displacement. Tears fell onto his cheek and rolled down to the surface beneath him as he gave into oblivion.

A knock at the door woke him from his dark reverie and brought him to the awareness of tepid coffee held in a cup as white as the fingers clenched around its handle. "Enter," came the one worded reply. If whoever was disturbing him wished a dissertation, they could come by at a more agreeable hour.

The brass handle on the door turned and a small body entered, her short heels clicking against the cool, marble tile. Her creme colored shirt lay nestled under the honey gold of her jacket and skirt. He hid a small smile by looking at his watch. "Aren't you here early?"

"I have to be to keep up with you." She opened a small note pad and examined it as she walked toward him. "Brady will be here at half past eight to go over the McMash project. He has been working on that timing problem they were asking about. You have a meeting with them at ten. I scheduled your meeting with Foster for eleven thirty at Renaldo's."

Images of steaming, cheese covered dishes started a low grumble in his stomach and he knew he needed to eat something before he met with Brady.

"Now, don't forget, you have that doctor's appointment at two." He opened his mouth to speak,but was cut off by a forceful finger and a strong tone underlying the voice of his secretary. "Don't even try it. I already called your chauffeur and he will be here."

She handed him another cup, this one filled with fresh coffee and, he realized when he took a sip, a handsome amount of brandy. The young woman gathered her note pad and the used cup on her way back toward the double doors. As she reached for the handle, a deepened voice spoke from behind her back.

"You know, for what I pay you, I would think I could get a word in."

She looked back and smiled. "That's why you pay me, so you don't have to." She raised the cup in a mock salute and closed the door behind her.

The lone figure smiled around the cup and closed his eyes as the warm sensation of doctored coffee spread through his limbs and woke his brain completely out of its morning fog. He walked to his desk and sat in the quiet.

"Well, on with the rat race."

The blaring ring of the telephone woke the occupant of the bed with a fit of cursing and blind fumbling. A hand crept up from beneath the covers and jerked the phone beneath the warm, red fleece.

"What?!"

"Is that any way to greet your good pal?"

The blankets moved down an inch as a dark eye hazarded a peek at the clock. "What are you doing calling me at this hour? Its the middle of the night."

"Its 10:30 in the morning," the amused voice offered. He waited for some response of comprehension, but didn't receive one. "I need a favor."

"What kinda favor, George? You almost got me arrested last time."

"That was a small snafu. It wasn't that big a deal."

"Yeah? Tell you what. I ever do get arrested, you're going with me. And than you can explain it to your boyfriend as he scrubs your back."

The absence of sound from the other end gave him a chance to pull himself up. He pushed the pillows behind his back and pulled the covers to reveal a slight, bulging tummy and a smooth chest. His reached for the table lamp and pulled his hand back with a hiss as light filled the room with the crackle of static electricity.

"You okay?"

"Sure, now you worry about me. Hurry up and tell me what you want."

"I need you to get me into Hathridge."

The figure in the bed immediately sat up. "Are you crazy, that thing is protected from everything."

"How would you know?" He paused and chuckled when he didn't hear anything. "That's what I thought, you couldn't stay away. I bet you got in."

"Only partially, then some stupid watch dog program booted me out. I was just playing around. It was too long since I had a real challenge."

"I want you to get serious. You can crack anything."

"I don't know. The safe guards have got to be ten times stronger since then. I would need a password, access codes, ..."

"Don't you worry about that, I'll handle that part."

"There is no way you can get that info."

"Trust me."

"That is what you said last time."

"Have a little faith my friend. I'll call you later. Just think about it."

The click of the phone disconnecting was loud against the soft hum of the air conditioner. Too excited to sleep, the young man stood and started formulating his battle plan.