It was Gunthar's stories that filled her mind now. He was a staunch believer in telekinetic powers, extra sensory perception, out of body experiences, astral projection, all the powers of the mind beyond the body. Gunthar explained once how he would have recurring dreams of falling; sometimes from an airplane, sometimes from a building, but always falling. Just as his body struck whatever surface he was falling toward, he would awake to find that he had really fallen. He explained that the human mind, while in REM sleep was more open to the hidden powers it possessed. His fear of falling was so great that the anxiety he would feel was strong enough to trigger a telekinetic event—on his own body. When he woke from a dream of falling, the telekinesis was disrupted and he would fall back into his bed.

Connelly had never experienced such a thing, but was now beginning to wonder. As a scientist, she was always interested in exploring new frontiers, but mental powers seemed more in the realm of the paranormal than scientific. It was a subject of hot debate that summer, but she hadn't given much thought since.

Connelly sat up in bed and rubbed her warm hands across her forehead. They felt greasy. She stood and wandered over to the small bathroom attached to the meek quarters provided her by the GEC. The bathroom was small, like the bedroom, but it was functional and modern. She turned on the faucet and let the stainless steel basin fill with cold water. Once full, she plunged her face beneath the water and counted to thirty. She felt the remaining clouds in her mind vanish and her thoughts become clear.

Water poured from Connelly's cheeks as she pulled her face up and glanced in the mirror. She looked tired. Three months of intense training will do that, she thought. The rest of the team, with the exception of Jen Choi and Captain Harris, looked just as tired and beaten as she did.  As the water dripped away from her eyelids, a wisp of motion caught her attention. The shower curtain behind her had moved ever so slightly, as though a gust of wind had swept through the room, but there were no windows open and her door was locked.

Or was it? Connelly couldn't remember.

Connelly turned to inspect the shower, but before she could even raise her hand to the curtain, it burst open and a figure, dressed in black, stood inside the shower stall.

Staring wide eyed, Connelly was confused and bewildered. Peterson, dressed like a Navy Seal, was standing inside her shower, gazing into her eyes and flashing his perfect smile.

"What the hell are you doing?" Connelly said.