Revision	5
Release	1

This is not based on any existing work, fictional or 
otherwise.  The characters portrayed are not based on any 
existing person I have met or expect to.  For any comments, 
please send them to me at Janson@brain-lag.com and I 
will try my best to get back to you with an answer.
--Ryan


- Behind the Shield -


	If Michael Bronstein were to be honest with 
himself, he’d feel silly.  A man, who had barely completed 
high school, now put in charge of an operation that 
involved dozens of industries.  It had been a needed boost 
to his self-confidence, though even he knew he was little 
more than a figurehead.  The gun strapped to his foot was 
the sole weapon he carried with him, the more visual pistol 
having been confiscated back at the security entrance.  
Bronstein had the authority to walk in without handing over 
anything, but it was best to let people like these think they 
were in control.
	Bronstein looked about him solemnly.  The 
bleached white walls of Alpha Nine were far from clean.  
Dirt was never the problem since none penetrated past the 
numerous decontamination rooms and bacteria were just as 
vulnerable as the lifeless dirt.  
The Earth Force Government kept projects 
involving genetic manipulation secret.  It was a necessary 
security precaution to maintain control of the population.  It 
was Special Services Captain Bronstein who was forced to 
evaluate these projects.  A position he was afraid would 
soon leave him much like the people he worked with.  
Killing a person was one thing, but this…
The sound of his every movement seemed amplified 
by the material surrounding him.  Bronstein felt awkward 
in the white encounter suit he had been provided, but then 
he always did.  He much preferred his black suit and tie to 
these bulky clothes and he was determined to spend as little 
time in the suit as possible.  Being in a genetics lab was 
reason enough to keep the encounter suit on until he was 
sure of his own safety.
	Bigger, faster and better was the way of the future.  
Labs like this one seemed to make it all possible.  Bronstein 
had witnessed many of these projects already.  Most 
involved some animal that was then modified to fit some 
purpose in the military.  It was both fascinating and 
sickening at the same time to see creations like that.  
Biotechnology was the key to the very future of warfare 
and that made it of great interest to Earth Force.
	“Doctor Wilkson, I hope you're about ready.”  His 
voice sounded muffled inside the airtight outfit, but one of 
the scientists in a similar outfit looked up and exaggerated a 
nod.  Bronstein could hardly wait.  He was anxious to be 
done and gone, escaping this place.
	“Captain, if you'd step this way.”  The chief 
geneticist led the way to another room.  Bronstein followed 
Wilkson, feeling his heart beat faster with anticipation.  He 
knew from reports that Alpha Nine dealt with large hunting 
cats.  They had been working with them for over a decade, 
and this particular project was nearly six years old.  Since 
most of the other facilities tended to rush their projects 
along to obtain better funding, Bronstein was both eager 
and worried about what could come of six years of steady 
research.
	“Have you got a live specimen to show me?”  
Bronstein's imagination was running wild with thoughts of 
what he would see.  Alpha Nine had kept him very much in 
the dark with this one.  Not one word had been said about 
what this project could be.  There hadn’t been so much as a 
hint even at this point.
	“Oh yes!  Yes indeed.”  Wilkson responded in an 
almost chipper way.  The man was taking great pleasure in 
prolonging Bronstein's anticipation but nevertheless 
seemed very pleased with his own work.  Bronstein 
fidgeted as he looked around the room they had entered.  It 
was an observation room not unlike many he had visited for 
other projects.  Computers and recording equipment lined 
the walls, to observe their experiments in every way 
possible.  As usual, the test chamber was separated from 
the monitoring room by a shatterproof glass shield.  
Bronstein leaned up close to the glass and tried to spot 
movement down below.  There was none to be had.  Alpha 
Nine wasn't willing to release their secret that easily.
	“Now Captain, I must explain the Angel Project in 
depth before I show it to you.”
	“Why's that?”  Bronstein looked away from the test 
chamber and back to the doctor.  Wilkson had removed his 
headpiece and was trying to smooth out his full head of 
white hair.  He looked as though he cared very little for his 
own appearance, probably spending too much time on his 
work and not on himself.
 	It occurred to Bronstein that since Wilkson had 
taken his helmet off, the room was probably safe.  He 
removed his own and breathed deeply, tasting the cool 
filtered air.  The metallic flavor it had was almost enough 
to convince Bronstein to seal the suit again, but the 
coolness of the open air was the deciding factor.  He was 
tired of sweating it out in an encounter suit.  His own black 
hair was damp from perspiration and now lay flat against 
the top of his skull.  The pale faced agent smiled coldly at 
the scientist, inviting the man to continue his presentation.
	“This project is unique, Captain.  If I show it to you, 
you will not hear a word I say.  We've perfected 
biotechnology.”
	“A lot of places say that,” he reminded Wilkson.  
The geneticist laughed out loud in the most unsettling 
manor at his remark.  Bronstein watched the elder 
geneticist carefully.  Wilkson was not a physically 
impressive man though he carried himself as if he were.  
He seemed to be thin and lanky even through his bulky 
encounter suit.
	“What you've seen so far is merely a primitive form 
of the art.  I assure you that what you'll see today will 
greatly interest Special Services and perhaps impress the 
whole of mankind.”
	“That good, huh?”  Bronstein glanced back at the 
test chamber uncertainly.  So far the lead-up had been 
enough to pique his curiosity, but he hoped he wouldn't be 
let down by the actual project.  “Go ahead doc.  Explain 
why Special Services should pay you another nine million.”  
Wilkson motioned for Bronstein to take a seat behind one 
of the computer terminals before sitting himself down at 
the next station.  Bronstein reluctantly sat down but hoped 
he wouldn't be waiting much longer.  Already this 
prolonged exposure to the scientist had begun to wear on 
his patience.
	“The Angel Project is something other facilities 
have only dreamed about.  My staff and I have been able to 
isolate and alter specific sequences in the DNA of our 
subject.  There are still some unexplored regions, but we 
can go into production with what we know.”
	“Production?  Now hold on, we haven't given you 
the okay on this yet.”  Wilkson grinned widely at Bronstein 
in a way that made his skin crawl - a rather impressive feat 
considering what was in the Special Services job 
description.  Bronstein suppressed a shudder by crossing 
his arms in not-so-feigned impatience.
	“You will.  You'll be begging me to go into 
production by the end of this meeting.”  Bronstein felt 
tempted to get up and leave right at that moment.  The 
arrogance of the bioengineer was beyond belief.  How 
could anybody be so confident that the project would be 
approved?
	“Continue.  My time is limited.”  Wilkson nodded 
and again started into his carefully prepared description 
without actually revealing anything.
	“Alpha Nine's Genetically Engineered Life form: 
ANGEL.  The Angels will be the next wave of soldiers.  
My creations are faster and stronger than any human 
being.”  Wilkson stopped to breathe and smile proudly.  
“We've created six in our lab so far.  I'm afraid one died in 
testing.  I'll show you the second in the series in a 
moment.”
	“Angel.  Cute.”  Bronstein muttered under his 
breath.  He was busy trying to imagine if this creature 
would look more human or cat-like.  He pictured a cat that 
looked similar to a cougar with a big red bow and a brass 
nametag with 'Angel' written on it.  Special Services would 
love that.  Bronstein knew that his own secretary had 
always wanted an office cat.  Silently, he chuckled under 
his breath.
	“We've been training Angel Two for five years.  
She’s different, fiercely independent.  She hates humans.”  
He smiled back at Bronstein as if it were something of a 
joke inside the lab.  “This one’s recuperation abilities have 
been greatly enhanced and her ability to take down prey is 
nothing short of spectacular.  Angel Two is the pride of the 
lab.”  Wilkson’s smile faded as he wearily looked at 
Bronstein.  “We've increased our security both inside and 
outside because of this project.  If word of this got out we'd 
have every religious fanatic and nut trying to shut us 
down.”
	“That all?”  Bronstein asked sarcastically.  
Obviously Wilkson was not one who believed in any sort of 
god.  He glanced into the test chamber again, trying to hide 
his disappointment.  It had been his experience that those 
who liked to blow their own horn had no reason to do so in 
the first place.  He expected Wilkson to follow suit.
	“I assure you Captain, it'll be worth the wait.”
	“I disagree.”  Bronstein, deciding it was time to 
force Wilkson's hand, stood up.  “I've got other places to 
be.  My kid has a baseball game he would like to go to and 
I'm going to miss it if I wait around much longer.”
	“Family first?  Good for you.  I didn't think you SS 
types had the time for family.  The project papers are in 
that folder.  You can take them to the game and then come 
back after you've read them.”  Bronstein looked over to the 
table where the folder sat.  The large yellow folder was 
several inches thick, crammed full of reports.  It would take 
him days to read all that.  Six years of research was 
supposed to be in there.
	Still, it beat sitting around in a biotech facility and 
he could do the work at home at his own pace.  Special 
Services wouldn't mind, and he'd get a bigger paycheck out 
of the deal.  He walked over to the table and lifted the 
folder carefully so as not to spill any of the papers.
	“Thank you, Dr. Wilkson.  I'll call you when I've 
finished with these.”  Bronstein opened the folder to the 
first page and froze where he stood.
	“Captain, I don't think you'll be so quick to leave.”  
The first page was a photograph of the Angel Project.  The 
damned geneticist had planted that first page for just such 
an occasion.  Bronstein couldn't think of a remark to the 
scientist's comment.  He couldn't move.  He couldn't even 
take his eyes off the photograph.  It pictured a young girl 
being floated in some kind of cylindrical tank filled with 
liquid.  The look of it haunted him.  The expression on her 
face was of unbelievable pain and agony.  What had these 
animals done to her?
	That’s when he noticed something more.  Her ears, 
they weren’t a normal set but longer and sharper, much 
more cat-like.  This was the fabled Alpha Nine project that 
had been so secret.  This couldn’t be real, Bronstein told 
himself.  The picture had to have been faked somehow.
	“I think you'd better show me the project.”  He 
whispered, unable to find his voice.
	“But I've not yet finished telling you about it.”  
Bronstein slowly raised his head so he could see Wilkson.  
The scientist had to be the most ruthless, sadistic person he 
had ever met.  He was smiling in such a revoltingly smug 
manner that Bronstein felt his stomach turn.  This lab had 
gone too far.  The scientists had stepped over the unwritten 
law.  Human beings were not to be touched in this manner.  
To try and manipulate our own genes was looked upon as 
blasphemy by many more than just ‘religious fanatics’ as 
Wilkson so fondly of called them.
	“You will show me now or I'll close Alpha Nine 
down permanently.”  The coldness of his voice surprised 
even himself.  Angel was going to have major 
repercussions down the line.  Civil uprisings and religious 
crusades had been started by less.  He doubted that this 
‘scientific breakthrough’ would be worth it.
Wilkson seemed to take the hint this time.  He 
began to nervously tap several commands into the 
computer he was sitting at.  Neither spoke until he had 
completed his task.
	“Okay, let her in.”  The geneticist spoke into a 
microphone and then stood up to look through the 
shatterproof glass into the test chamber.  Bronstein joined 
him.  In the chamber, a small door hissed open and a large 
dog entered the room.  Though it could easily tear into a 
human, it was a rather normal looking canine and nothing 
very interesting.  It nosed about as it entered the test 
chamber, sniffing at unfamiliar scents.
Before Bronstein could say anything about it, a 
second door on the far side of the chamber opened.  The 
dog rocked back and began to growl at whatever was in the 
second doorway.  Bronstein bit his tongue and tried to calm 
his heart, which had begun to pound with fright.  Not fear 
of what Wilkson was planning, but about what he would 
see.  Was it possible to do what that picture had said?
The second specimen of Angel stepped into the test 
chamber.  She was nearly human but visibly altered with 
ears that had grown out of her light brown hair to take on a 
passable feline appearance.  A slender tan colored tail 
swayed with irritation from behind her slender body.  She 
would have been remarkably beautiful if it wasn't for the 
changed features.  Her well-proportioned body still 
managed to be very attractive even with the additions.  But 
why had she been made that way?  Why did a genetically 
engineered soldier need such an appearance?
	“What the hell have you done!”  Bronstein hissed.  
There was no mistaking it; this creature had to have been 
human at one point.  The woman was dressed only in a 
light blue tank top and a darker colored pair of shorts.  It 
wasn’t much to protect her from the dog’s sharp teeth when 
it decided to do something more than growl threateningly at 
her from the far side of the chamber.  Bronstein was as 
much drawn to the sight as he was disgusted by it.  That 
realization scared him more than what he saw.
	“Observe carefully.”  The utter calmness of 
Wilkson's voice shocked Bronstein even more.  He shot the 
scientist a condemning glance before resuming his watch of 
the dangerous spectacle.  The dog began to lunge at her but 
'Angel' moved with a speed that baffled the Special Service 
agent.  She literally jumped over the canine as it made its 
final leap for her, she rolled in flight and grabbed its neck 
with both hands while she was inverted.  Before Bronstein 
had a chance to exhale it was all over.  The dog lay on the 
floor with a broken neck and the biologically enhanced 
woman stared into the control room with an icy glare.  She 
wasn’t even breathing hard.
	Bronstein hardly noticed the look of utter hatred on 
her face.  His mind reeled with the endless possibilities of 
having commando units composed of such beings.  Nothing 
on Earth could stop them.  That fact alone made the project 
extremely dangerous, his conscience reminded him.  This 
was a sentient being that could think on its own.  How long 
would it be until one went rogue?  How many would die to 
stop it?  
How would the public react when word of her 
existence escaped?
	“What do you think, Captain?  Do we get the 
money?”  Wilkson asked as Bronstein leaned forward, 
closer to the protective glass, in the vain hope of a better 
look.  She was as real as he was.
	“No.”  He answered with more strength than he 
thought possible.  “It’s too dangerous to proceed on this 
level at present.  Perhaps in a few years…” Bronstein 
allowed his voice to drift off, knowing quite well that it’d 
be decades before a project like this could be deemed safe.  
Mankind simply wasn’t ready yet.  
	“No?”  Wilkson repeated in disbelief.
	“No.  I want this place shut down.  I’ll come back in 
a week and we’ll salvage what we can.”  Nobody in the 
outside world could know of the existence of Angel. 
Though the data obtained may survive, the actual creations 
would have to be destroyed.  He looked outside, back at the 
woman below.  The torture she had endured would soon be 
over, but it saddened him to think of how her life must have 
been.
	“I think I’m going to be sick.”  Bronstein muttered 
in a barely audible voice as he dropped back into his seat.
	“You will pay me the money, Captain Bronstein.”  
Wilkson told him with a cold but slightly shaken voice.  
The command was punctuated by the unmistakable sound 
of a weapon charging up.  The sound, a rising pitch hum, 
lasted only a second but that second seemed to drag on for 
an hour as far as Bronstein was concerned.  He knew what 
it was and as he turned his head to look back at Wilkson, he 
stared right into the muzzle of his own pulse pistol - the one 
the security team had confiscated back at the entrance.
	“How?”  Bronstein asked, forcing himself to remain 
calm.  There was nothing he could do.  Rushing to grab his 
concealed weapon would only be suicide.  If he wanted to 
return home he had to play it cool.  “Special Services won't 
pay that much.  If you think I personally can pay that then 
you've seriously overestimated my paycheck.”
	“Angel is my baby,” Wilkson responded anxiously 
as he pushed himself further forward across the table.  The 
tense jerking motion the geneticist made caused Bronstein 
to nervously lean back in his chair.  “You have to 
understand, I did this for her.”  Wilkson's hand holding 
Bronstein’s weapon was shaking visibly, which in turn 
made Bronstein nervous.  He didn't have the slightest clue 
why Wilkson was acting this way but this behavior went 
beyond the actions of a completely sane human being.  
Wilkson obviously wasn’t talking about the whole project, 
but just one of them.  This was even more confusing.
	“Doctor, I...  I don't understand.”  Was all he could 
say as he watched the shaking pistol.  The barrel was 
moving back and forth uncontrollably, sliding its aim 
across Bronstein’s chest with each short little pass.  It was 
only a matter of time before the aged fingers would twitch, 
squeezing the sensitive trigger.
	“I created them all, but I wanted her.  Don’t you 
understand?  She should have been mine, I--”
The sudden splintering of supposedly shatterproof 
glass forever stopped Wilkson's explanation.  A blur of 
gray steel flew across the room behind Wilkson's back, 
giving Bronstein a nearly clear view of the metal pipe that 
had been used to break through the shield.  Bronstein came 
alive in a flash of reflexes, instinctively dodging Wilkson’s 
gun by kicking over the computer table and diving to the 
floor.
	This attempt to avoid Wilkson's nervously held 
weapon had been pointless.  Wilkson had swung it away 
towards the breaking glass shield but had not fired.  
Bronstein carefully peered over his chair with his 
previously concealed pistol in his own hand and froze.  She 
was with them now, inside the room.  The tall feminine 
body of Angel stood only a few feet from the visibly 
shaken Wilkson.  Her left forearm streamed blood from 
where glass shards had sliced into her, but she obviously 
didn't care about her wound.  Instead she glared angrily at 
her creator.
	“You can't...  I made you...  I own you...”  Wilkson 
stammered, backing away slowly, trying to steady his 
shaking aim by placing a second hand on the pistol.  With 
lightning quick speed the bio-soldier snapped a kick that 
knocked the weapon from the geneticist's weaker hands.  
Bronstein blinked in surprise.  He had expected her to be 
loyal to her creator.
	“I will not be used.”  The being spoke in a deep 
growling voice that more than stated the visible anger 
towards her creator.  Wilkson held both of his hands in 
front of himself in a show of surrender and continued to 
back away.  The Angel stepped towards him menacingly.
	“I am not a toy for your fantasies.”  She growled 
again.  Bronstein silently scrambled back from behind his 
chair to more suitable cover behind the fallen table.  He 
pointed his weapon at the escaped creature but held his fire.  
He was intensely curious towards this being, more than he 
had been by her appearance or the speed and agility she had 
shown earlier.  They had only looked away from her for a 
moment and in that time she had been able to create this 
opportunity.  It was almost as if she had this planned out 
ahead of time.
	“She’s crazy!  Shoot her!”  Wilkson cried as he 
spotted Bronstein's weapon.  The Angel didn't care to look.  
Instead she leaped forward like a coiled spring, snatching 
the fragile looking man by the neck and lifting him high off 
the floor.
	Bronstein’s action was automatic, but wasn’t 
wanted.  He stood up and pointed his gun at her openly.
	“Hold it!”  He shouted across the room.  Even with 
this show of apparent control, he didn't feel very brave.  He 
knew he could get off at least two shots before she could 
reach him.  Two shots were more than enough, if he could 
actually hit her.  His confidence in his aim was what 
lowered his bravery to a mere bravado show of force.
	The Angel turned and looked at him with cool 
curiosity but completely without concern.  She pointed at 
him with her left hand, holding Wilkson dangling in the air 
with only her right.  A single drop of blood splashed on the 
floor from her slashed arm.  The wound had already begun 
to close.  Bronstein only watched her with increased 
attraction towards her.
	“How were you involved in my creation?”
	“Huh?”  Bronstein answered immediately, shocked 
by her questioning of him.  Deciding that there was no 
harm in being honest with the creature, he told her the 
truth.  “I wasn't.”
	Wilkson's labored breathing sounds became more 
frantic, sending waves of apprehension through Bronstein.  
He watched as the geneticist kicked and grabbed at the 
Angel with failing results.
	“Are you...  You going to kill him?  Kill Wilkson?”  
He stuttered as he looked into the geneticist's pleading 
eyes.  If he had not come prepared to kill Wilkson himself, 
he would have snapped and tried to free the man.  He 
needed to know more before he acted.  For someone who 
owed their entire existence to Wilkson, this Angel was 
acting dangerously unpredictable.
	“By human law his punishment should be death,” 
Angel responded, no longer growling but still sounding 
angry enough to scare him.
	“What is his crime?”  Bronstein asked as he tried to 
buy some time.  “I’m with Special Services and have 
authority to arrest him.”  Angel looked away from her 
victim back to Bronstein with an aggressive swing of her 
head.  She knew about Special Services, that he could tell 
by the recognition in her eyes.  He wondered vaguely what 
Wilkson had told her about the division, but quickly cleared 
such questions from his mind.
	“Confinement against my wishes.  Torture.  Sexual 
Assault.”  She breathed in heavily with barely contained 
rage.  “Rape.”  Bronstein found himself staring in disbelief 
at the geneticist.  Somehow he couldn’t picture it, nor did 
he want to.  He had suspected Wilkson to be a rather 
depraved man just from how he acted, but this?
Even worse than the thought of rape, was the 
inability to classify her as human.  As far as he knew their 
laws wouldn’t cover her.  As sick as the thought was, 
Bronstein knew she was a creation and nothing more.  
None of the charges would hold up once somebody pointed 
out that fact.  And if it went that far the public would know 
not long afterwards.  He couldn’t arrest Wilkson, but 
perhaps he could use this to buy her trust, gain enough time 
to think of a plan.
“Release him and I'll arrest him for those--”
	“No,” Angel interrupted while shaking her head.
	“I have to arrest him if what you say is true,” he 
told her, tensing in anticipation of an attack.  She continued 
to stare at him coldly as Wilkson sputtered for oxygen.  
There couldn't be much more life in the old man.  His 
movements had dulled to near limpness.  In seconds it 
would be too late.  He would be the only remaining target.
	“Run,” she told Bronstein with an almost predatory 
sound in her voice.  For a moment he stood there, about 
ready to protest, seeing Wilkson dangling in one hand on 
the verge of death, realizing that he hadn't been able to 
score well on the firing range in three years, understanding 
only partly what Angel was capable of.  Years of intense 
training to prevent panic dissipated in seconds.
Michael Bronstein ran.
	Reaching the hallway he threw his clumsy weapon 
away and focused entirely on sprinting through the 
corridors.  He was only dimly aware of sirens declaring a 
potential hazard inside the facility.  He pushed past 
security, geneticists and anybody else that got in the way as 
he ran for the exit.  He kept imagining that the Angel was 
behind him, hunting him down.  His own imagination and 
heavy breathing began to give him hallucinations of her 
steadily gaining on him.
 
	“And then?”  Assistant Director Bennett's 
unforgiving voice came from behind the desk piled high 
with papers and disks.  Bronstein lifted his cup of coffee 
with a shaking hand and took a noisy sip from the mug 
before unsteadily setting it down on the arm of the chair he 
sat on.  He was exhausted, tired and frightened.  A nervous 
wreck waiting to be put out of his misery.
	“Approximately ten minutes after my escape from 
the building, Alpha Nine exploded,” Bronstein answered 
with a waver in his voice that he couldn't hope to hide.  
“No survivors have turned up in the past fourteen hours.  
Any potential threat the project posed to Earth Force has 
been effectively eliminated.”
	“Hmmm,” was the only reply Bennett offered at 
first.  Nervously, Bronstein took another noisy slurp of his 
coffee.  He had been up the entire night, waiting and 
worrying.  “A shame.”
	The silence that followed seemed to be a test, one 
that he knew he couldn’t pass.  With his nerves this frayed 
he couldn’t just sit patiently while his report was reviewed.  
Instead he opted to use the moment to settle the other 
matter that had drawn him to the Assistant Director this 
morning.
	“Sir, I'd also like to submit my request for a 
transfer.”  Bronstein spoke as he handed a partially 
crumpled paper to his supervisor.  The Assistant Director 
carefully accepted the paper, flattened it on his desk and 
began to skim through it.  He reached the basic summary of 
the paper in only a few moments of silence.
	“To a desk job?”  Bennett's eyebrows raised in an 
unexpected visual response to the written request.  To 
Bennett this request came as a total surprise, considering 
that previous attempts to get Bronstein to a desk job had 
met with months of complaints.
	“Yes sir.”
	“Are you going to be all right, Captain?”  It was a 
simple question that should have had a simple answer.  
Unfortunately the answer wasn't available to Bronstein in 
his present frame of mind.  He gave the Assistant Director a 
reluctant nod, which both knew was an 'I don't know.'
	“I'd like for you to see a psychiatrist about this.  I'll 
see what I can do about your request.  Dismissed, Captain.”  
Bronstein nodded again without feeling any relief at being 
dismissed.  He rose slowly and began to move across the 
office, not quite keeping all of his coffee in the mug.  Some 
of the hot liquid ran over his hand and dripped to the carpet 
leaving large dark stains in the gray fabric.  He hardly 
noticed.
	“Michael.”  Bronstein stopped and looked back at 
his supervisor with a blank and exhausted stare, but 
surprised at the use of his first name.  “Do you think she 
survived?”  It had been a pretty big explosion.  Half the city 
block had been leveled by the shockwave that destroyed the 
Alpha Nine facility.  The few employees that had survived, 
had left the building just prior to the explosion and hadn't 
been related to the project at all.  Upon investigation it 
turned out that none of them even knew what an Angel 
looked like, even if they had heard of it.
	“I hope not.”
	His behavior belied his answer.  Only four of the 
five bodies had been recovered, still remaining in their cells 
at the time of the explosion.  Though nobody had seen the 
last Angel escape, he knew deep down that she had.  He 
also suspected that it had been she who had set off the 
explosion.  She was the best of the six prototypes, Wilkson 
had said.  And now she was out there, somewhere.