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The building didn't look like anything special, or sinister at all. Outside it was just another post modern building with lots of glass and solar panels set within well landscaped grounds that almost looked like a park.

Inside, it was techie's dream. High end computers that wouldn't be considered state of the art by the public for several years yet, clean open work environment without the cubicles you'd expect to see in a place where computer nerds worked, and people freely shared information among themselves.

All in all, it appeared to be a pretty good place to work.

But there were places, underground, and even on the surface, that most of the regular employees never saw, and rarely heard of other than in rumor.

And this was the place where Kevin Logan/Helene Hotchkiss had worked.

I couldn't access the computers in the secured areas, and to be honest not even in the regular work areas. Being a ghost, more or less, meant that their security had no effect on me, and I didn't effect it, but to access the data base I would have to go physical, which would have set off more alarms than I cared to think about.

Even if I had gone physical, I didn't have the time to get into the hidden systems, not even with the passwords and other codes without triggering the alarms thanks to the sophisticated computer scanning of the whole facility and recognition protocols for individual employees allowed in the restricted area.

And I didn't want to warn whoever was funding the hidden research that someone was on to them. But I knew of someone who could probably hack even the secure systems. I made a mental note to contact her once I was finished up in the place and see if she would do it.

That could be ticklish since she was firmly 'one of the good guys' and I had only been tentatively moved into the status of 'Not a real bad guy, but...'.

There was someone else I could ask for help from on this without getting all the Law and Order types worrying about ethics, but I hesitated to contact her, and Megan might help, but again I was leery of approaching her given her recent experiences with the bio-metal and chips that someone had made of it. I didn't want to dredge up more painful memories for her.

But I was pretty sure she'd want to be in on this one for the same reasons.

I wasn't going to contact her, though, until I had solid evidence someone else would back up.

I did hang around to see if I could find or hear anything else useful. Being a ghost does has its good points at times, you know.

“You shouldn't have left her alone that long, Hotchkiss.”

Helene's 'husband' grimaced and replied to the one who was berating him. “Mr. Clarke, she seemed to be under control and let's be honest, I couldn't take her everywhere with me. People would have gotten suspicious. I saw no hints that she was breaking the programming until I got home and found her in my office.”

“You should have noticed.” Clarke, a rather nondescript man with greying hair and a bit of a paunch despite the exercise he obviously did to stay in shape glared at his companion. “I don't need to tell you that our 'girls' are the biggest part of our funding for this project. When one slips the leash, it makes our clients wary. You should have seen the signs and acted accordingly.”

“There were no signs, dammit!” Hocthkiss shot back. “Helena was the perfect little traditional housewife. You know I brought her back for reinforcement twice. I don't know what went wrong this time.”

“Well there wasn't enough of her brain left to scan, so neither do we.” Clarke answered simply. “But you obviously failed to spot something. If you can't see such things maybe I need to find someone else to control the new girls and if you screw up again, you just might find yourself among them. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.” The man answered with fear evident in his posture and smell.

“We got this mess cleaned up for you, which is fortunate for you, but now we need to give a cover story for just why your loving, doting wife isn't around any longer.” Clarke mused. “Visiting her mother won't work, since we don't have someone to replace her right now. All the girls we have on hand are already paid for.

“We can manufacture evidence that you were fooling around on her and she finally just got fed up and left. I think that's the best we can do right now.”

I knew I should have called Kevin/Helena's suicide in. I cursed myself for that one, but continued watching while doing my best to contain the rage I felt welling up when I had it confirmed that not only had there been more unfortunates subjected and sold, but that more were in the making.

Being the avatar of a Fury, or Erinyes as the Greeks called them, wasn't easy at all. Especially since I was the avatar of the most violent and vindictive of the three. I wanted to lash out and kill both men in that office, painfully and slowly, but knew that if I did that, I'd have to work a lot harder to find and stop what they were doing. So I consciously cooled the not so slow boil I was at and kept paying attention.

“Go check on Mitsuko.” Clarke ordered. “Our client is getting impatient to have his new wife.”

“Yes, sir.” Hotchkiss answered and rose to leave the office.

“No more screw ups, Hotchkiss.” Clarke warned.

“There won't be, sir.”

Then and there, I decided there would be more 'screw ups'. As much as I wished to kill the guy, I also realized there were worse things than death. Kevin/Helena had experienced that, so had Dolores.

I was going to take these bastards down, hard. But some of them needed a taste of what they did to others.

Much as it shamed me, I was anticipating that happening.

“Make damned sure she's as submissive as our client wants.” Clarke softly said, the threat was clear in his tones.

Hotchkiss didn't answer, just left the office.

I followed him.

Mitsuko stared at her reflection in the mirror of the ornate vanity she had been given and repressed a shudder. The delicately featured, beautiful Asian face she looked at while she applied her makeup wasn't the one she had been used to seeing some time ago.

But dwelling on that, or even seeming to resist what had happened to the man she used to be, resulted in pain like most people couldn't imagine. She had no idea of how her jailors had managed to change her body and face, but she was all too aware of how they enforced her compliance.

They had surgically implanted some kind of chip at the base of her skull and in her spinal cord. A chip that could give pleasure if she acted correctly, or unimaginable, burning agony if she didn't. She had experienced enough of the pain. Though she hated what she had become — this submissive, demure, lovely Japanese woman, she hated the agony worse, and feared it. So she had become one of the 'good girls' to avoid more of it.

Mitsuko Armitage was already a wife, though she had never been officially married. But the people who had made her what she was showed her pictures of a wedding, with her in a bridal gown hanging on the arm of a man she knew was her husband no matter how that revolted her deep inside.

She had more than one picture of herself with that man, always holding or being held and looking so deceptively happy. Worse, she also had pictures of herself as a little girl, a teenager, and a young single woman. The were all in frames and displayed prominently in her rooms.

Knowing all of them were faked didn't change a thing.

Mitsuko Armitage had a history, a past life, and had false memories of being a girl at school in Nagasaki. She had come to think in Japanese most of the time, and using English, which now sounded harsh and all sharp cornered to her, took a bit of thought.

But she had been born in Ohio, and grew up speaking the language that now seemed so foreign. Made to be so cutely awkward with the customs of a country she had grown up in.

It was all so wrong, so horrible. Not only had they altered the body she had grown up in, they had altered everything else she had once taken for granted.

But she didn't dare resist. She craved death, but they wouldn't allow that, either.

She was the now the loving,very traditionally submissive wife of a rich American.

And could do nothing to fight that.

Inside she cried, because now she was a woman who had no choice but to be the thing her 'husband' wanted, screamed about that, and her lost self raged.

None of that made a bit of difference.

Having felt and experienced that from the delicately featured, Shapely young Asian woman I pulled out of her mind and wished to kill someone all over again. I had gone through something like she had, with the change of sex and ending up being beautiful in both my personas, and I was subject to someone's will, too. But I hadn't been forced to become sweet and submissive through burning, acidic pain in all my nerve endings. I hadn't been ripped from my old life and forced to take on another the way she had.

“I wish I could give you the death you want so much, Mitsuko.” I whispered. “In time I may be able to give that to you, but for now, I need you alive. I'm sorry.”

“Is someone there?” She questioned in a sweet, melodic and accented soprano.

I didn't answer, just withdrew so I could go somewhere else and cry.

Later, as my Deena self I reflected on what I'd learned and what had happened to me.

Yes, my human self was a prostitute, and a good one. But I hadn't been really forced into it. I knew, deep down that I could have changed that simply by taking a job as a waitress, receptionist, or junior secretary somewhere. I had the qualifications for all of those.

But the point is I'd had a choice.

Made it, and lived with it knowing that it had been my choice.

Helena, and Mitsuko hadn't had that luxury.

They'd been forced into the molds that shaped and defined them even though their souls were complete opposites of what they had become.

“Dammit!” I screamed into the air while throwing an inoffensive vase against the wall. More things got thrown and I kept cursing any deity that existed for awhile.

A pounding on my door stopped that, and I carefully looked at who was doing it through the peephole in the door. It was one of my neighbors, concern etched on his rugged face. “Deena?! Are you having problems with someone?”

“No.” I answered while opening the door and giving him, Hernanado, a weak smile. “I just got some really bad news and was venting. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you.”

“You sure, chica?” He questioned while examining me and the part of the apartment he could see. “Someone hurts you, hermana, I hurt them. Okay?”

I'm sure, Hernando.” I managed a smile. “Sorry for the noise, and no one is here but me.”

“Must have been bad news.” The man sighed, satisfied that I wasn't fighting with someone. “You need to talk, me and the wife will listen anytime.”

“Thank you.” I actually smiled and gave him a kiss on his scarred cheek. “I'm okay, just needed to get something out and here was the safest place to do that. I really am sorry I made you worry.”

“No Problemo, chica.” He grinned. “We all know the things you do around here and try to hide. Anytime you got trouble, you let me know.”

“I will.”

“Bueno.” he nodded then gave me a hug. “I leave you to whatever it is.”

I watched him return to the apartment across the hall and felt a surge of unsexual love.

Another difference there between me and poor Mitsuko and Helena. People actually cared about me as Deena. Those two, and others I didn't want to think about just then, didn't have even that.

“Hi Lena.” I announced myself once I'd appeared in her — office, computer room, or whatever?

The poor girl almost hit the ceiling that was a good ten feet above her head, and turned abruptly to see who had invaded her private space. Oh, she also had a rather large handgun in her hand and it was pointed right at me.

“Sorry I startled you.” I smiled then looked at the weapon in her hand. You don't need that with me. I'm not here to hurt you, you know.”

Would it do any good even if I used it?” She questioned while pushing a stray lock of her hair away from her face without lowering the pistol that was still pointed at me.

“It would hurt.” I admitted. But other than that, probably not.”

“You could have given me some warning, you know.” She said while lowering the weapon and carefully setting it back in the clips that held it under her desk. “You showing up out of nowhere is kind of, you know, scary as Hell.”

“Sorry.” I actually was, since I could have gotten in contact through Deena's email, though I was still hesitant to do that. The only one in world who knew about my alter-self was Kyle, and him I trusted in a way that is difficult to describe. Okay, I was probably in love with the guy. Weird, really weird, since I'd only been this girl I was, or both of them, for less than a year. “I'll email you first next time, I just didn't think this time around.”

“Ahhh.” She shrugged and grinned. “Doesn't matter now since you're here, but a little advance notice would be nice next time around. Then I might not be in danger of shooting things I'd rather not, you know?”

“I'll email you in the future.” I promised.

“So I need to look for something from Spectre.com?”

“No.” I actually laughed at that one, though the idea was intriguing. I'd have to think about that one for awhile, though. “I'm trusting you with something here that only one other person knows right now, but if you get a message from this source, it will be from me. Can you keep that to yourself?”

“Well, duh!” She grimaced. “I get tips and information from all kinds of 'anonymous' sources and I have things on my system that keep them anonymous no matter how hard someone looks. You know who my Dad is. I got his intelligence out of the genetic mix and my Mom's looks, thank goodness. So believe me when I say there's no one better with computers or the Net than me.”

I nodded. Lena's last name was Luthor. Yes, that Luthor. If she said it about her computer skills, I believed it.

“Now,” She actually grinned at me. “What name should I look for when you contact me?”

“SexyDeena.” I told her with a little sigh then added. “My alter ego is a very good and well paid prostitute, much as that pained me in the beginning.”

I saw the flash of understanding on her face but was quickly swallowed with amusement that she tried hard to hide. “Okaaay. I gather from the way you said it there, that you used to be a guy?”

“Yup.” I shrugged. “The entity that chose me seems to have a really warped sense of humor.”

“No shit.” She answered then gave me a concerned look. “Doris used to be a guy, too. It's hard for her a lot of times. How are you holding up with that?”

“I am what I am.” I shrugged. “It was tough at first, and still is off and on, but I deal with it. My neighbors, and the people in the neighborhood where I live in and work love Deena.”

“And?” Lena questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, the sex is good.” I shot back half angrily, then had to chuckle. “The body does rule the mind, Lena, and Deena, me, is working that way to make money for an education that will get her out of that kind of life. She's in university and is a business major.”

“Good for you.” Lena smiled and moved up to actually hug me. That was a shock. The only person who had done that before was Kyle. “I know you aren't the villain that the police want everyone to think you are, by the way. I've been following your — exploits, since you first visited us.”

“I am a bad guy by the current rules.” I pointed out.

“You're justice, Deena.” She answered. “Not law.”

“The name is Diana in this form.” I told her.

“The Huntress.” She nodded and grinned. “Appropriate. I take it that what drives you, brought you back from the dead is something involving the ancient Greeks? The name hints at that, after all.”

“A Fury.” I confirmed. This girl was way to smart to be safe Being around if she wanted to did information out, for most people.

“Which one?

“Tisiphone.” I said with a wince.

“Ahh, the violent, really vengeful one.”

“Yeah, so now you know why I'm the way I am at times.”

“Understood.” Lena gave me a little smile. “Does anyone else know all this about you? Besides Tisiphone, I mean.”

“Not all of it.”

“Okay.” She said then got that 'business' look on her face. “So why did you come and what do you want me to do?”

“I need you do dig around in this database.” I answered, while handing her a paper with the information on it. “I can't get to it because if I went physical enough to do it, it would set off all kinds of alarms, so be careful while you're digging.”

“Pfft!” she grinned. “I can get into any database, and let me tell you it's tough not to do that on some of the financial networks, but I'm already rich. I do finance some of Doris' and my needs that way right now, but I always put it back later. Besides, I can get in, get the information, and not even the security administrators there will know I've done it.”

“This one is really dangerous.” I told her.

“So what does it involve?”

“Bio-metal, chips.” I answered. “And this bunch is much further along than the ones who got Dolores.”

“Oh, shit, I thought you said that was done.”

I thought it was.” I said quietly. “But I was wrong, and I'm going to put an end to it if I can. I just need your help to find what they do, how they do it, and if you can, get me a list of their victims.”

“You got it.” Lena nodded, then gave me a long, careful look. “Megan needs to know about this, she would want to be in on it.”

“Yes, she would.” I nodded. “But I need facts, and for her to hear it from someone she trusts.”

“I'll take care of that.” Lena assured me.

“That's all I ask.”

“I'll be in touch.” She told me then grinned. “And don't stay such a stranger. I'm your friend, Diana, Deena, or whoever else you are or were. I just wanted you to know that.”

I couldn't answer that one, just nodded.

Now I had two people who knew about me, and my alter-ego.

I trusted both of them.

“Good bye, for now.” I moved forward and gave her a hug. “And thank you.”

“I'll be in touch, soon.” She assured me.

Whether that was with the information I wanted, or for other things didn't matter just then.

I went somewhere else to think about what had just happened.