Hell was breaking loose elsewhere in the building.  Lana was happy that it was happening out of sight.  The scariest moment in her life had been earlier in the day when Blondie and Scar had shot real, live bullets at her back in the bank.  And what was happening in the floors above and below her sounded much worse.

The agent who had introduced himself James Bond style as [i]Roberts, Greg Roberts[/I] led her down the hall to and into the stairwell.  They cautiously descended three floors before Lana stopped short in the bend halfway between floors.  She called to Greg, "[i]Wait![/i]"

The Agent stopped. Lana tilted her head, listening.  Her eyes widened in shock as she hollered, "[i]Get back!"[/i]

She was too late.  The stairwell door suddenly burst open, slamming into the FBI agent.  Greg slammed against the wall, and a moment later the MIB-wannabes had him on his face with his hands secured behind him.  One of the attackers stood and swung his weapon up the stairs, then down, wanting to draw a bead on their real target but seeing no one else but the Agent.  

Lana had dropped to her haunches in the corner even before the MIBs got through the door.  They had no reason to believe that she was there.  Yet as the man with his knee to Greg's back was trying to get handcuffs on the Agent, the man standing swept around from behind his back an electronic device hanging from a shoulder strap.  He tapped a couple of buttons and began sweeping the device about, parallel to his pistol.  The man was staring at the unit's back side.  From her perspective, Lana couldn't see the little screen that was showing the results of the infrared detector.  

But she knew when he'd discovered her.  His expression showed that he saw something interesting.  Then his gaze and the aim of his weapon both rose to where Lana was crouched.

She panicked, threw her hands out, and screamed, "[i]STOP![/i]

*********

Two hours later, Lana smiled at disoriented man's stirrings.  As he opened his eyes, she told him, "You're safe."

Her lips widened even further at the ironic humor of her comment.  After all, FBI Special Agent Greg Roberts was supposed to have been saving Lana Reed, not the other way around.  But, he had, of course.  If the [i]troops[/i] at the other end of his radio call hadn't sprung into action, she would have been trapped in her condo when the men with the infrared detectors arrived.

Greg grimaced.  Lana told him, "Take it easy.  You probably have a concussion.  I had to--"

She stopped short of explaining what she'd done in the stairwell.  Lana had never talked about her abilities with [i]any[/i] one.  She was hesitant to do so.  But.  Greg [i]had[/i], in fact, kept up his end of their deal.  Well, for three of eight floors anyway.  So, with a smile, she decided he was owed at least three-eighths of the truth about her.

Lana helped Greg to sit up on the old ratty couch.  She handed him a bottle of water, looked about the dark, dingy space, and explained, "It's a needle room.  About fifteen blocks from my place.  It's where addicts come to fill their bodies with poison.  After dark--"

Again, Lana stopped short again.  She knew she didn't have to explain such activity to a Federal Agent.  Again Lana's lips spread in a smile.  She knew what question was going through Greg's head: how they got here. "I carried you here.  Through the basement.  Underground.  Alleys.  Even a sewer."

She lifted the end of the water bottle again, encouraging Greg to drink.  Lana studied him for a long moment.  She had kept her secrets secret for so long.  Telling them to him wasn't coming easily to her.  But.  It was coming.  "When I was little, my parents told me I was special.  They didn't know why I was the way I was.  They only knew I was.  They were very loving people, and they took great care to guide me in my [i]special-[/i]ness.  I was allowed to participate in so very many things.  And I was allowed to use my [i]enhanced abilities[/i] so long as I didn't draw undue attention."

Lana blushed a bit.  Greg and his Bureau investigators had identified her easily enough.  She had little doubt that they'd seen her long list of accomplishments.  She said with a bit of an embarrassed tone, "I, um.  I may have attracted a [i]little[/i] undue attention."

She diverted her gaze as the memories of her parents' passing returned to her.  She continued with a more solemn tone, "When I lost them, my parents, I lost something else, too.  Control.  I fell apart.  I started partying.  Drinking.  Drugs."

She glanced up for just a moment before looking away.  Greg was a very attractive man, just the kind she would have given herself to during one of her frequent clubbing nights.  She knew she shouldn't add this part, but the [i]devil[/i] inside her caused Lana to continue with, "Sex."

The siren of a police car zipping past the building interrupted her for a moment.  Lana looked back to the Agent and continued, "I lost control over something else, too.  My powers.  I ran into some money prob--"

She stopped, diverting her eyes again.  When she looked back up, she admitted, "No.  I didn't do it because I needed money.  Money was just an excuse.  I, um.  I started using my, let's call them [i]powers[/i] since I know that's what you're thinking, to steal.  It started small.  Just to see if I could do it.  I stole tips from café tables.  I'd sit next to men waiting for the subway, then take anything they took their hands off of.  Briefcases.  Cell phones.  Their coffee.  That got old after a while, and it wasn't getting me any real excitement."

Another passing police car interrupted Lana.  When she looked back, she said with almost a sense of pride, "So, I started robbing jewelry stores.  I would enter and find a seat somewhere out of sight of the security cameras.  I knew the sales people couldn't see me, but that the camera's could.  I'd wait for the store to close.  I'd rob it.  I'd camouflage again and wait for the police response.  Then, I'd sneak out at some point."

Lana wasn't surprised when Greg suddenly named one of the stores she'd robbed.  It didn't surprise her that he knew about the theft.

She pointed a finger out the dirty, cracked window from which the low light of the streets was reaching them.  "That was when the [i]men in black[/i] got on my trail."

Lana went on to explain that she'd missed a security camera and was seen on the recordings.  She'd gotten out, but so had her secret.  Soon enough, the mysterious men in the black SUVs were involved.  "I don't knorightw who they are, but they want me."

They chatted some more, and at one point Greg asked about what had happened the stairwell.  Lana looked away again before explaining, "Camouflage isn't my only power."

Lana stood, smirked devilishly, turned away, and looked about the room.  The light spilling in through the windows was illuminating a cloud of dust floating in the musty air.  She raised her right hand before her, rolled it into a fist, and [i]aimed[/i] it at an old wooden chair leaning against the wall.  Suddenly, a column shaped shock wave blasted through the hanging dust.  The chair exploded as if someone had hit it with a sledge hammer.  Little pieces rained down about the room as the dust swirled about the room.

Lana didn't immediately turn to face Greg.  She wasn't sure how he was going to react to what he'd seen.  And she wasn't sure how she was going to react to [i]his[/i] reaction.  "So.  That's how I got us out of the stairs."

She turned to face Greg finally.  "And.  Well, I carried you here over my shoulder here.  So.  That's how we got here, in case you hadn't figured that one out yet."