The news was still playing in the background. MCB Media Control loved the twenty-four-hour news cycle, because a ratings-desperate media was an easily steered media, and Media Control was still flogging the Franks-as-terrorist-on-the-loose story. Only now, beneath the big picture of Franks, were four smaller photos showing the three of them and Dwayne Myers.

“Not again . . .” Grant said.

“What’re you complaining about? At least the picture they keep using of you looks like a movie star headshot.”

“That’s because it is. They took it from my IMDB listing.”

“Screw you, Grant! Being in one horror movie doesn’t make you that cool! They used an MCB academy photo for me. I’m standing there with a rifle, looking like Lee Harvey Oswald,” Archer snapped. “Oswald!”

“Are you kidding? How do you think I feel? Look at me, Archer. I’m too pretty to go to prison.”

The stress was really starting to get to them. “Shit . . . I’m a federal agent. You know what happens to Feds in prison?” Archer stood up and began to pace back and forth. “And I’m skinny. At least you lift weights. I’ll be the skinny, easily-wrestled-down former cop. It’s like all of the worst things to be in prison.”

“Naw, you’d have to add child molester,” Grant said, but then he thought about it. “Knowing Stricken, being the spiteful bastard that he is, he’ll figure out some way to tack that on there too.”

Dying while fighting monsters was way less terrifying than the idea of being framed and going to prison. Archer hated to admit it, but he was freaking out. He really didn’t want to be sold for cartons of cigarettes.

“Guys, calm down,” Strayhorn urged. The rookie was propped up on one of the beds. Franks’ Elixir worked on him, but it didn’t seem to work nearly as fast. “Nobody’s going to prison. Stricken won’t risk us talking. If they take us alive, he’ll have us murdered as soon as we’re in custody.”

Surprisingly, that actually helped Archer calm himself. “Thanks, Rook.” Archer took a deep breath and sat back down. “Okay, so what do we do now?”

“We help Franks and we fight,” Grant said. “Or we run.”

“That’s bullshit,” Strayhorn shouted. “They killed my—”

“Keep it down. The walls are thin. I didn’t say we were going to run, I was just listing the options. I know they killed Myers. We were there.” They’d followed Myers and rushed in when they’d heard the call for help. “We’re in trouble only because we chose to be there.”

“Sorry,” Strayhorn said. “I know he asked a lot of you two.”