Zing

Krycek flexed his new arm, a look of complete wonder and incredulity creasing his face. He didn't even bother with his usual facade of disinterested smugness as he witnessed the rebuilt tissue responding to his internal command just as if it were the arm he was born with.

"Holy shit!" Krycek's eyes were wide and he turned his new arm left and right, studying each little pore and hair. Not even a scar where his stump had ended; just a perfect, functioning, nano- constructed limb to replace the one he'd lost in Russia.

"How in the hell did you do this?" he asked, again not hiding his complete amazement.

The doctor stepped forward, taking the arm in her own hand to examine it as if it were a highly interesting medical specimen. Which it was. "The nanites simply read your genetic code and gave you exactly what they saw you should have. It's not perfected yet. Sometimes your arm may not respond exactly like you want it to, and we will need to keep very close watch on you, injecting you with updated programs as we develop them."

"Whatever you say!" Krycek replied, giving his new arm the same intense scrutiny the doctor gave it, both of them tilting their heads as they surveyed the incredible medical miracle.

"You know it's quite fortunate that you had your arm...amputated, Mr. Krycek. We might not have received the go-ahead to push this part of the nanotechnology research through. The group is so single-minded about the immunity work, you know." The doctor dropped his arm and made some notes on her chart.

Krycek flexed his forearm and marvelled at the play of muscle under flesh that had not existed just 24 hours previously. It was almost more startling to get it back so quickly than it was having it cut off by Russian vigilante peasants in the first place. But not quite.

When he had returned from Russia after suffering through weeks of fevers and substandard medical interventions, his handlers had transported him immediately to the medical research facility outside of D.C. He had been put into a sort of stasis for several months while the scientists had gone into overdrive working on the part of their nanotechnological research that involved limb self-replication and organ construction.

Krycek didn't remember anything except being carried, half- dazed, into the underground hospital, then waking up with a team of eight people in white lab coats gathered around him excitedly. When they had broken the news to him rather brusquely that his arm had been replaced, he'd gone into shock. After the medication kicked in, all of the doctors but one had finished scribbling furiously in their charts and departed, and he'd gotten his chance to ask a few of the multitude of questions pounding through his brain.

"Is this a prosthetic?"

"No, it's an arm."

"Did you attach some donor arm to me?"

"No, Mr. Krycek. Your arm replicated itself."

"What? How the fuck did that happen?"

"Nanotechnology, Mr. Krycek. Manufactured atoms took information from your DNA and built you a replacement limb."

"How long have I been asleep? How long did this take?"

"You've been asleep approximately 113 days. The procedure took only a few moments, and the arm took just under 13 hours to regenerate."

"The procedure?"

"It was simply a matter of injecting you once the research was completed and the nanites ready. We kept you in stasis for this, since we didn't know if your body would reject the foreign bodies. We were lucky and you showed no adverse reactions. Thirteen hours later, we examined you and found that the arm had finished constructing itself. We administered the stimulant and waited for you to return to consciousness. You know the rest."

Krycek wasn't sure he knew anything at this point. He was more than half sure that he was just having another one of those fever-dreams where he'd wake up, wrapped in a grimy blanket on the cold forest ground and find that his amputation nightmare was really just that. A nightmare. Waking up from those was worse than anything, because he would wake to the truth of his loss. He scanned the room, looking for the usual telltale signs that this was a dream, such as a string of dogs nonchalantly making their way through the door, or features from several of his previous residences blending together in an amalgamation of home decor.

Nope, no dogs. And he'd never lived in a stark white room with no windows and only one door, either. He felt his heart speed up and he was suddenly nauseous.

"Sick..." he gasped out, and the doctor grabbed a white bedpan with practiced efficiency and held it under Krycek's face. Of course, nothing but a bit of bile came up, due to the fact that Krycek had not eaten in months, but the doctor let him finish heaving, wiped his mouth, and settled him back into the pillows with cool detachment.

"You'll be given some liquids tonight, and in a day or two you should be on solid food," said the doctor, preparing to leave the room.

"Wait...how long do I have to stay here?"

"We'd like to keep an eye on you for a week or so, get you back on a regular diet, make sure the technology doesn't have any serious bugs in it, then your employers have requested that you begin your next assignment." The doctor paused at the door, eyebrows raised, waiting to see if her patient had any more questions.

Krycek just nodded and sank back into the white pillows, returning his attention once more to his new limb, a small smile finally making its way across his face as he realized, though not without some lingering doubts, that this was probably not a dream. He didn't even hear it when the doctor left the room, the door closing softly behind her.

It had been a week, and Krycek was getting damned sick and tired of white. He vowed that the second he got out of that hospital he would never wear it or have it in his surroundings again by choice. Just the thought of white gave him a headache. Well, that is, until the nanites took it away.

Handy little sumbitches. His arm was working fine. Better than fine, actually. In fact, his whole body appeared to be experiencing a resurgence of health and youth. The technicians and medical staff had explained to him that he was to be their test subject for experiments to determine the extent of the regenerative capabilities of the technology. They explained that he need never feel pain for more than a few seconds, and that any injury, barring brain damage, could be repaired in a matter of hours, or in the cases of the most severe trauma, a few days. They theorized that even brain damage could be completely repaired, but the subject would then have to relearn what they'd lost. They said they'd be testing their theories as soon as they knew how the work on his arm had taken. That this was his next assignment, in fact.

Krycek didn't plan to stick around for that. He'd had more than enough of being the Syndicate's lab rat.

Every time the technicians hooked him up to the electrodes, he watched for his chance and stole bits and pieces of the paperwork, copied computer disks, and nabbed tasty-looking bits of wiring and circuitry. He'd slipped an injection gun into his pocket after faking a seizure and breaking two others, and he'd stolen a small supply of nanite serum just this morning before the day shift had come on.

He was ready to leave. Except for one thing. With the nanites in his system, he was at the mercy of whomever held his program. And while he had stolen enough information that he could control his own nanites, he knew they could as well. It was going to be a game of push me-pull you until he could figure out how to override their controls. But he couldn't afford to stay around here any longer. They had begun moving more equipment into his room, and he knew the tests were about to commence.

He reviewed the intel he'd gathered from the cute little nurse who volunteered to work double shifts a little too often for it to be coinicidence. Through his adoring accomplice, he knew when the security would be the most sparsely assigned, and when a delivery van would be at the south doors dropping off electronic components from an Asian shipment. He knew where they kept the strongest pharmaceuticals and had amassed quite an impressive stash, which he'd meticulously stored within his shaving kit accoutrements along with computer disks, components, and documents so that no one would be the wiser when they looked into his bag. They would just think he was vain and had an overly enthusiastic affinity for cosmetics. Krycek snorted. Sometimes being naturally pretty really had its advantages.

Like now, for instance, as the cute nurse in question stepped cautiously into his room, daring his eyes around nervously. Krycek smiled. He'd thought at first to use vulnerability and softness to get his little chicken to capitulate, but upon spending a few minutes with him had determined that a firm hand was much more likely to yeild the results he was after. He'd taken to leaving off the hospital pajamas provided for him, going about in only a pair of stark white boxers. It wasn't GQ, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

He had been pacing the room, brows drawn, when the nurse entered, carrying a small tray with paper cups arranged on it.

"Candyman!" he growled as he pounced. The nurse jumped and a few of the med cups fell over as the the tray lifted a few inches. Krycek very smoothly lifted it out of the nurse's hands and set it on the bed behind them, then grabbed a generous handful of dark blonde hair and yanked the boy's face in for a hard, bruising kiss.

The boy was immediately whimpering helplessly, his hands grabbing at Krycek's bare back frantically as his already-hard crotch ground against the chalk-white boxers pressed against it.

"Mmmm...did you know," Krycek said into the boy's mouth. "That these nanites..." he continued, biting the boy's plump, pink lips. "Allow me to have a boner..." he thrust his tongue deeply into the boy's mouth for punctuation, making the boy gag and writhe against him. "Any fucking time I want?" He continued to fuck the boy's mouth with his tongue, his right hand yanking the boy in by his left buttock roughly as his left hand squeezed the boy's rigid cock through his white nurse's uniform.

"Nnngah..." replied the nurse, wasting precious air on the exclamation when he should have been drawing more in preparation for Krycek's next assault on his mouth.

Krycek knew the boy had already temporarily disabled the surveillance on his room before coming in, as always. After all, it would be the nurse, not Krycek, who was punished for playing.

Krycek let the boy's mouth go and worked his lips down the slender, pale throat, biting tiny little bits of the clean, sweet skin between his teeth, making the young, nubile body against his jerk with each sharp assault.

"Ohh...god..." the nurse moaned, baring his throat even more to give Krycek full access. "We...we only have...ten minutes before I'm expected back at the ssssssstation...." breathed the boy as Krycek unbuttoned the silly-looking white nurse-shirt and fastened those cruel teeth on one firm little pink nipple. "Nahhh!"

Krycek swirled his tongue around the throbbing little nub of sensitive flesh and spoke against the skin around it. "I'd better just fuck you then," he growled, already working at the boy's white slacks with his quick, efficient fingers. The boy just groaned, his fingers digging into the hard muscles of Krycek's flanks as Krycek yanked the white pants down to the nurse's mid-thighs and abruptly spun him around and tossed him up against one sparkling white wall. The nurse hit with a thud and a grunt and spread his legs as far apart as he could with his pants still around his thighs.

Krycek reached into the white jacket the nurse wore and pulled out a tiny sample-sized tube of KY jelly. He bit the boy on the back of the neck in approval, and the young, pale body against the wall arched back, craving more touch. Krycek stepped back and surveyed the scene for a moment, enjoying the appearance of the boy's peachy, soft, young ass, half-exposed by the tails of his shirt and the bottom hem of his jacket.

"Take the shirt off."

The boy immediately complied, nearly ripping the utility fabric in the process, and soon his slender, slightly muscled, pretty back was bare and twitching.

"Mmm..." Krycek couldn't help but moan a little in praise of the young form laid out on the wall before him. The boy really was a lovely little specimen. Pale, flawless skin, silky blonde hair cut short, a pretty, sharp, clean jaw line, and the nicest little bubble butt he'd seen in a long time. As a rule he liked his men a little more manly, a little more built and with a little more hair, but variety was, after all, the spice of life. And the boy's extreme responsiveness and utterly delicious desperation more than made up for his lack of masculinity. "How much time now?" he said low and breathy in the boy's ear.

"Sssseven mminutes..." gasped the boy, turning his wrist slightly where it was pressed against the wall by his face to check his watch, not daring to push back into the bare body just inches from his own.

Krycek smiled at the boy's control and decided to reward him before making him come hard all over the pristine wall. He bent down and flicked the tip of his tongue against the now-sweaty flesh of the boy's back, working his way down the slender expanse of pale skin. The boy was moaning now, arching back a little more into each touch of Krycek's tongue. Krycek placed his tongue in the gentle crevice of the boy's spine and dragged the underside of it down slowly.

The nurse gasped and let out a choked cry, and Krycek saw that he was trying hard not to rub his erection against the wall now. He laughed quietly and spread the boy's perfect ass cheeks with his hands, baring a tight, pink opening already fluttering with anticipation. He bent forward and sank his teeth into the firm flesh of the boy's right ass cheek and spoke with the skin still held firmly but gently between his teeth. "How long?"

"Suh...ssssix...." the boy gasped, trembling as the cold air brushed across his bared opening and Krycek left teeth marks in his ass.

Krycek opened his jaws and let the boy's ass go, and very, very lightly fluttered his hot, pointed tongue against the warm, clean, sweet little pucker of the boy's asshole.

"AHHH!!...God!" The boy's legs trembled and his nails dug through the white paint on the walls as Krycek continued to just barely tease him with the tip of his tongue. He would have stayed there longer, but by now they had only five minutes. He pulled his mouth away and held the boy's cheeks open with one hand, opening the small tube of KY with his teeth. He pushed the plastic tip of the tube gently into the slightly moist, clenching opening and squeezed, filling the tight channel with the slippery gel.

"Ohgodyesyesyes..." moaned the boy, pushing his ass back at Krycek desperately. "Hurry..."

Krycek smiled again and quickly pulled his boxers to just below his balls, baring his own hot, red erection. He slicked himself up, gasping silently as he fisted his cock a few times to get it thorougly lubed. He put the tip of it against that slippery little opening and leaned in, putting his lips to the boy's ear.

"Four minutes now," he growled. "Can you come for me?"

"Oh..ye..yes..." said the boy, obviously already damned close to losing it.

Krycek took the boy's soft earlobe between his teeth and bit down hard as he shoved himself in to the balls.

The boy cried out, his cheek mashed up against the plaster. Krycek pressed along his body full length as the boy stood on tiptoe to make himself the right height. Krycek took the boy's slim hips in a bruising grip. "Get yourself off against the wall," he rumbled, beginning to pump slowly.

The boy pressed forward, moaning, letting Krycek drive his body against the wall hard with each push of his cock into his body. He cried out with each impact, driving Krycek's own pleasure higher. Krycek fucked him harder, mashing the boy's cock between the boy's slim belly and the wall and then giving a little grind before pulling back. The boy's legs trembled as he strained to remain on tiptoe for Krycek's assault. Krycek leaned in hard, staying deep, and ground himself into the boy, tilting his hips to make contact with the boy's prostate while rubbing him against the wall in a continuous, swiveling press. Suddenly, Krycek felt the muscles of the boy's ass clamp down on his cock as the boy's body jerked and shuddered against the wall, his mouth wide open in a long, helpless cry as he spurted hot all over the previously spotless paint.

"Good...good..." Krycek groaned, feeling the boy beginning to slide down the wall. He gripped the boy harder and drove into him brutally, slamming the boy's body into the wall mindlessly now as he pursued his own orgasm. The boy took it, whimpering and grunting as the air was forced from his sated body again and again, until Krycek finally rammed in and stiffened, his mouth open in a silent gasp, his thighs trembling slightly as he came deep into the boy's body. "Uhhnnn..." he groaned, sliding out without preamble, knowing their time was up. He snapped the elastic of his waistband back up over his spent cock and helped the shaking nurse pull up his pants and get his shirt and jacket on, tucked in, and buttoned. Then he pulled him for a last deep kiss, swallowing the tiny, high whimpers this drew from the nurse's still breathless throat.

"Keys?" he said against the bruised, swollen mouth. The boy fished in his pants pocket and brought out a ring of keys, pressing it into Krycek's outstretched palm with trembling fingers. "Thanks, beautiful," Krycek said, giving him one last peck and stepping back to run his fingers through his hair. The boy just gave him a shaky smile before looking into the mirror to fix his own hair and shirt, licking Krycek's rough kisses from his lips repeatedly as he put himself back together. He began to walk out the door and Krycek spoke.

"Is all this for me?" he said, gesturing with his head to the tray of narcotics and other medications on his bed. He smiled as the boy blushed pink and picked up the forgotten tray.

"Nnno...just this one."

Krycek took the cup of pills offered, noting that there were three times his usual dose, and gave the boy another grin as the flustered young man made his way out the door. Krycek secured the meds in his faux-shaving kit before the cameras and mics came back on, then laid on his bed, back against the headboard, ankles crossed, waiting for 3 am to arrive.

Ten minutes before the minute hand hit the twelve, Krycek lifted up his mattress and pulled out the clothes the young nurse had procured for him. He quirked a brow at the fact that the black t- shirt was obviously a size too small. Sassy little bastard. He slipped the clothes on noiselessly, shrugging into the old, scuffed, faded, familiar leather jacket he'd asked the boy to track down for him. He'd been very grateful when it was returned. And the nurse had been very exhausted afterward.

The boy had been unable to provide him with a weapon, no matter what Krycek had offered in trade. The best he'd been able to do was one mother of a huge large-bore needle full to the brim with sedative. Krycek secured his giant waterproof 'shaving kit' at his belt, laced up his boots (two-handedly!) and fit the barrel of the cold syringe snugly into his palm. He was ready.

He'd learned how to pick the lock on his room his first conscious night here, and he silently did so, stealing out into the half-lit hallway, making his way toward the sparsely-manned nurse's station. He knew that there would only be two nurse/guards on duty, and he knew their schedule by rote. One of them would be making bed checks on the west hallway, and the other one would be getting the early morning med cups filled.

He crept silently up to the station, seeing the one nurse with his back turned to Krycek, reaching into a cabinet for a tray. Krycek quietly used his keys to unlock the sliding window partition that separated the nurses from the patients, then slid it silently open along the previously-oiled track. Without a sound, he leapt up through the opening and landed in a crouch on the other side, a few feet behind the nurse. Smirking slightly, he lunged forward and sank the needle into the man's right buttock, depressing the plunger just one-quarter of the way down. There was enough sedative in there to drop four large men. This one slid down instantly, knocking the empty tray to the floor, tiny paper cups scattering over the shining linoleum.

Krycek had no doubt he'd been heard. He'd have to be very ready when the second nurse returned. He pushed the unconscious man into the supply pantry off the main station and picked up the tray, sweeping the cups into the pantry with him. He took the man's gun from his white leather hip holster and tucked it into the front of his jeans. He made his way to the door, still in his crouch, and waited for the slight jingle of keys that would signal the other nurse's imminent arrival.

"John?" The second nurse peered through the safety glass, looking for his partner. There was, of course, no answer. Krycek pressed himself up behind the file cabinet behind the door and waited for it to swing open. He let it get half-way ajar and then jumped forward, driving the door back into the man's face, cracking him in the nose. The nurse scrambled back, one hand going to his bleeding nose, the other going to the weapon at his hip.

Krycek positively grinned at the usefulness of having two arms once again as his left arm shot out and knocked the man's gun arm up just as the gun was pulled from its holster, and his right sank into the man's gut with a satisfying whump. The man doubled over and Krycek divested him of his weapon as well, slipping it into the back of his jeans before taking the syringe from his pocket and jabbing the nurse in the neck with it. The nurse fell to the floor and Krycek stepped back, capping the needle and tucking it back into his jacket pocket with a quiet sigh. He squatted and removed the huge ring of keys from the downed man's belt, hooking them with one finger jauntily. He now had free reign of this place. But he had to hurry, because the delivery van would only be outside for another ten minutes or so.

He'd been surprised to learn from his little blonde that the facility they were in really wasn't all that large. Two halls to the right was a storage area, and off that was a loading bay. He could easily avoid any other nurse's stations getting there, now that he had access keys. There would be one guard standing by the bay while another stood at the door to the main storage room. Not really a challenge except for the fact that he couldn't draw extra attention by shooting him. Silent thanks went out to his pretty little accomplice for setting the cameras to give him a thirty minute window free of video and audio surveillance.

He slipped through two locked doors and two hallways and pressed himself up against the wall just to the side of the storage room. He heard the two delivery people setting boxes down inside. He strained his hearing to pick up any sign of exactly where the armed guard was standing, not daring to take the chance of looking around the corner to find out. He picked out a bored sigh that stood apart from the sounds of light exertion that came from the delivery men. He smiled and waited for them to return to the truck.

As soon as he heard the distant sounds of boots clomping over the ramp, he raised the syringe in his hand and darted around the corner, using his previous audio-location to drive it squarely into the top of the guard's trapezius muscle before he even knew what hit him. The guard made a quiet, shocked sound of distress as his already-failing hands both wastefully closed around the large needle protruding from just to the side of his neck, leaving his weapon completely unattended. Krycek frowned at his unprofessionalism and took the gun, slipping it into his pocket. He gave the plunger a tap with his other hand, and the guard's hands fell away as he slumped to the floor.

Now he had to worry about dispatching the delivery men, but that should be easy, considering they didn't appear to be armed and would both be loaded down with boxes of computer components. He needed to meet them halfway so they didn't have time to see the downed guard, and so that the other guard wouldn't be able to see him take them down. The fourth and final guard was the most dangerous, as that one would have heard the scuffle of the delivery men going down and would have his weapon drawn, ready for a fight. Krycek was prepared to use deadly force at that point, before jumping into the truck and careening his way through the chain link security gate.

The two men came down the hall right next to one another and he advanced on them swiftly. Their eyes widened but they didn't drop their burdens, just slowing as he reached them. Before they had the chance to ask who he was, he raised his gun and cracked it across one man's temple. The other man dropped his boxes as the first went down, but before he could run, Krycek grabbed him by the back of the neck and smacked him into the wall, felling him with little effort. He rifled the man's pocket while watching the corner, and pocketed the keys he found there, rising simultaneously into a shooter's stance.

Now came the hard part. His weapon was raised and ready as he waited for the last guard to round the corner. He knew he'd have a split second when he'd seen the guard and the guard hadn't seen him. He had to make it good. He wished for a silencer, knowing the gunshot would cut his escape window short instantly with its loud retort within these silent halls.

He heard the footfalls and aimed at the average level of a man's head. The guard came around the corner, gun drawn, but Krycek fired without hesitation, killing the man instantly and splattering the white wall with his blood and brains. He barely took the time to step around the growing pool of blood as he sprinted for the truck. He took the time to close up the back, then he leapt into the driver's seat and found the right key after three tries. He could see lights and hear alarms going on all around him. He recalled the layout of the hospital grounds in his mind and unhesitatingly floored the gas, spraying gravel as he fishtailed his way toward the main gate.

He hoped they would shoot at his form within the vehicle rather than at the gastanks or tires, and he slouched down in the seat as much as possible while still retaining his visibility. This was the moment of truth. He'd either make it through the gate alive or not. No hesitation, no second thoughts, just slam it, Alex, he told himself. And he did. The strong chainlink held for a moment as automatic gunfire erupted around him, and Krycek stopped breathing, feeling tiny squares of shattered glass sting him on the face and neck. Then the metal gave and the truck crashed through.

He was out but being pursued by a growing armada of nondescript cars and SUV's. Quickly, he reviewed his plan. The last three days in the hospital had been spent being injected with all manner of nanites and programs, in preparation for the testing to begin. In theory, Krycek should be able to survive just about anything short of getting shot in the head. He hoped to holy hell that the scientists knew as much as they thought they did about his regenerative capabilities. And he hoped that they would be intent enough on preserving their lab rat that they wouldn't use his programming to kill him rather than allow him to escape.

He was taking his chances on a lot of things, but seeing as how he'd burned his bridges with the Syndicate by choosing not to be their guinea pig, and burned his bridges with Mulder by making him think he was leaving him in Siberia, he didn't really see any alternative way of gaining his freedom.

It was that thought that kept his eyes closed and his foot pressed firmly to the floor as he ran the truck off the North Beach Haven 12th Street pier into the cold Atlantic waters. The truck hit the water with a bone-jarring impact that stunned Krycek momentarily, losing him precious seconds. Fortunately, his pursuers had shot out the driver's side window, so as the truck sank into the water, Krycek swam out through the frame. He took his jacket off underwater, securing it to his waist to make swimming easier. He did the same with his boots, tying them to his belt. Thus unencumbered, he cut through the water with long, efficient strokes, not heading for the shore but going parallel to the peninsula. He stayed under the water until his enhanced lungs were screaming and his body flagging, then chanced a moment of surface time.

The darkness was excellent cover as he silently recaptured his breath, watching as the cars pulled up on the pier, strong searchlights illuminating the area all around where the truck went down. As he treaded water, he felt the nanites already repairing the strained muscles, his strength and energy returning in a matter of seconds. With a smile, he turned his body away from all of the activity and continued swimming parallel to the shore for another three hours, stopping intermittently to catch his breath and let the nanites work.

Finally, he was completely away from the scene of his escape, and he had not yet felt any ill effects due to the nanites in his body. Contrarily, they'd allowed him superhuman stamina and strength as he'd swum the entire length of the peninsula and across the short stretch of water to the shore of Mystic Island. Evidently his handlers had thus far elected not to activate his programming in a way detrimental to his well-being. But he knew he needed to get himself a palm pilot to activate the programming for his own system, so that if they did choose to start zapping him, he could immediately override their efforts with his own.

He dragged himself up out of the water, inhaling sharply at the bite of the cold night air. The nanites immediately went to work raising his body temperature to counteract the atmospheric chill, and within a few moments he was comfortably warm. He slipped into his jacket and boots, water pooling on the asphalt as he raked his fingers through dripping hair, getting his bearings.

It was still early morning, and the working class were opening loading bays, pulling out in trucks, and filling up parking lots.

Krycek needed money.

Yes, he was an accomplished thief, but he didn't want to have to go around stealing the things he needed. It would be just his luck to get picked up for shoplifting after escaping the shadow government's secret medical experimentation facility. So what he needed was to score enough cash to fund his needs adequately. He ran through his hierarchy of needs.

Food. Starvation was the one thing the nanites had no defense against. Cells simply did not work without fuel.

A palm pilot. He needed to get that as soon as humanly possible in order to get total control over his own programming, and for that he needed money. His eyes scanned the parking lot as he waited for the morning shift of workers to busy themselves behind closed doors.

By the time the parking lots were full and silent, his clothes were dry on his body. He made his way to the far edges of the lot, well away from the large office building he'd chosen, and began the process of selecting his ride. He had nothing with which to pick any car door's lock, but his hotwiring skills were better than the ones of Nicholas Cage in that stupid car movie. So he chose a nice little black BMW and picked up a rock from the landscaping.

Naturally, as soon as the rock had shattered the glass of the driver's side window, an extremely annoying car alarm went off. Krycek grinned as he reached inside and unlocked the door, sliding his way across the seat, brushing the bits of glass from the leather upholstery. The alarm sounded exactly like so many that every office worker heard every day and did nothing in response to. Today was no different, and he bent to his task and brought the car to smoothly purring life. He drove out of the parking lot, scooping change out of the seat divider, scanning the area for the golden arches.

"Three thousand dollars."

"Yeah."

"That's a brand-new fucking BMW with a thousand miles on it."

"Yeah, it's a real beaut'. Got the pink for it?"

Krycek glared, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Wordlessly, he held out his hand for the money, staring a hole into his chopshop proprietor's forehead as the bills were laid on his palm.

"Pleasure doin' business with ya."

Krycek squinted and pushed the wad of bills into his pocket. He was sad to lose the tasty little Beemer, but he needed to get his ass to a Comp USA post-haste, and he needed to have a pocket full of cash when he got there. So he'd have to get himself across town on the most invisible transportation in the country. He strode down the block to wait for the bus.

He didn't even wait until he was outside of the store before sliding the little data disc into the palmtop computer. As the teenaged boy tried to look bored while craning his neck to see what Krycek was doing, he booted up the program for his nanites and entered in the codes that he knew would give him control over his own body. Once he'd finished entering the correct sequences, the list of choices came up. Of course, there were no words, only numbers, but Krycek had spent a week memorizing the meaning of every single one, and as he looked down the column of figures, it was like reading an anatomy textbook.

He needed to test his control. But he had no wounds to heal, no imperfections to perfect. He shrugged and punched in number 9.

He gasped loudly, his lashes fluttering, as his cock immediately filled with blood, pressing urgently and uncomfortably against the ocean water-stiffened cotton of his jeans. He panted heavily, dialing down the intensity, as a very not-bored college kid looked on, eyes wide. Krycek blinked rapidly, gaining control over his breathing, then glanced up and caught the boy's rapt gaze.

"S'gonna be all the rage," he said breathily, then winked and tucked the palmtop into his jacket pocket. He was now in control of his own body, in possession of enough serum to infect three other people as well as the programming to control it, and had a couple of thousand dollars in his pocket to boot.

Things were definitely looking up for Alex Krycek.