The first day after training had an inauspicious start, with a long wait in a stark, featureless room that reminded Nat of the student lounge in the faculty basement. It was only missing a microwave and a nearby biology lab, permeating it with the odor of formaldehyde.  His chair was hard plastic, molded for the butt of some other man—some other species.  He tried not to fidget.  He didn't want to show Larry how uncomfortable he was, in case it was taken as a sign of nerves.

The big man slouched forward in the seat next to Nat.  He leaned with his elbows on the table, arms folded and biceps bulging out of his T-shirt.  The position emphasized his muscles and made his upper arms seem as big as his head—a head distinguished by the short bowl-cut hairdo that accentuated his Neanderthal brow.

Who the heck wears jeans and a t-shirt to work?  Someone needed to tell him he was at a prestigious corporation, not the gym at the mall.

Nat adjusted his suit jacket.  He knew the expensive blended wool signaled to others that he was an up and comer at the company.  It said: I'm ready to climb the ladder.  When he signed up, they had told him the sky was the limit for someone with enthusiasm and determination.  SBI was the perfect place for him.

Under his tie, his collar was sweaty.  They had been sitting in silence for too long.  He was already anxious about his first project, but having Larry involved with it made him worried.  What kind of mission were they being put on?  What the heck kind of assignment would require both Nat and an ape like Larry?

They had never met during training, which was suspicious.  When Carbone had introduced them, he had said, meet your fellow new recruit.  So where was Larry, when Nat was killing himself in the company's training program?  Had they given him some kind of pass?  Was he some exec's dimwitted son? 

While they were still shaking hands, Carbone ordered them to sit down, shut up, and wait for their new superior.  There was no chance to ask any questions.  If there was one thing drilled into him in the six months at SBI Security's instruction camp, it was obedience wasn't just expected; it was demanded.

So there they sat with Nat feeling more self-conscious by the minute.  Larry's bulk seemed to eat up the space.

Nat was no lightweight.  He went to the gym five times a week to craft a physique that was both attractive and powerful.  Every morning in the full-length mirror, he'd inspect his body and try to find areas he needed to work on.  The way his caramel skin pulled taut over the well-toned muscles filled him with pride.  But having Arnold-freaking-Schwarzenegger next to him made him feel puny and weak.

When the door finally opened, Nat bit back the words forming on his tongue.  It would have been so easy to put a premature end to his career with the phrase: "Well, it's about time."

Palmer strode in.  There were no introductions.  None were necessary.  Darren Palmer had given a few seminars on surveillance to the recruits.  It had been months since Nat had seen him, but he was immediately identifiable by his stern expression and the deep widow-peaks extending his forehead.

"Gentleman."  He held onto the back of the chair with his left hand instead of sitting down.  He exuded the look of a man too busy to spend time with a couple of chumps like them.  "Congratulations on passing the course.  Having been through it myself, I know how challenging it is.  Most people who attempt it fail.  But you two have succeeded and that makes you valuable assets of SBI Pharmaceuticals."  He paused to let this sink in. 

It was a similar spiel to what Nat had gotten at graduation: he was now a part of an elite organization; his duty was to serve SBI and its subsidiaries; the company was his family and he was their privileged son.  It had been rousing stuff when Carbone had said it from the podium.  Coming from Palmer, Nat felt like he was a newly purchased piece of machinery.

"You will be working on a very important undercover operation."  While Palmer spoke, he fished around his jacket pocket as though he were playing with marbles.  When he withdrew his fist, something was hidden inside. 

Palmer had clearly palmed something. Nat pondered the verbal irony—wait, can a pun be ironic?  He'd have to look that up when he got home.

"Larry Weiland."  Palmer flung a small object at the hulk.  Larry caught it from the air and stared down at a black thumb drive.  "Your new name is Bowman.  This is your cover.  Study it." 

"Nathaniel Massie.  You are now Miller."  Palmer flicked his hand and sent a USB key his way.

Nat almost fumbled it, but his fingertips saved him an embarrassing moment of scrambling to grab it as it bounced back across the tabletop.

Two weeks later, they were deployed to Arizona.  Nat's cover had him playing a research assistant, which was hardly a stretch.  It was the work he had done for three years while getting his masters.  Larry was a nurse.

Apparently, he had some medical experience as an orderly, which SBI had bolstered with a few months of nursing courses.  This revelation explained why they hadn't been in training together, but gave Nat no more respect for the big man.  He didn't know the particulars of Larry's former career but all he could picture was Larry working in a mental hospital, brutally dragging screaming patients into electroshock therapy.

Going over the mission plans, Nat's faith in SBI wavered.  How on Earth could a company, any company, get agents with false identities into such a secure government location?  But SBI had done it.  Their credentials were never questioned.

Maybe one day, when he was as powerful as Darren Palmer, Nat would learn what the trick was.

Pretending to be someone else every day for weeks was harder than Nat had imagined.  It was a constant struggle to be friendly and at the same time emotionally removed from the people he worked side by side with. Every time he began to grow close to anyone, Nat reminded himself that one day he would have to betray them.  He told himself that the Music Box was the freaking Island of Misfit Toys.  People like them didn't really matter—they would never drive the motor of the world.  They were too damaged and odd to ever warrant a significant position in society.  It wasn't anything personal; it was just Darwinism.

Nat was relieved when they finally got orders to execute the last stage of their mission.  He couldn't wait to get this job done and move on to the next big thing, with a feather in his cap and a fat bonus in his bank account.

The plan was simple enough—so simple even a mouth-breather like Larry could understand it.  SBI had Brain Aikman embedded for months, working on overriding the bunker's security systems.  He would ensure that they got into the target's cell without the alarm going off and prevent the elevator from going into lockdown, so they could get back to the surface.  SBI would send in a support team to clear a path from the outside.  Then all they had to do was walk out with the monster's corpse.

Getting the weapons in had proved to be only a minor challenge.  SBI had provided undetectable plastic guns produced on a 3D printer.  They had smuggled a few of the pieces in each day and security had been clueless.  Getting the bullets and firing pins in had been the tricky part. 

Nat hadn't been particularly happy about having to swallow them and then go through the messy retrieval process in the bunker's men's room.  But after Larry complained the first time, Nat made sure to show how little he was bothered by the task.

"Fuck," Larry had said. "I joined up so I wouldn't have to clean up shit anymore. Now those bastards have us digging around in it."

Nat cringed at the cursing. It was completely unprofessional. How could anyone be taken seriously talking like that? "I don't think it's so bad. But then, I do possess an exceptional amount of resolve and fortitude."

He just snorted at that. "Fortitude. Right. I bet you get off on that kind of sick stuff."

The constant putdowns were only one of the reasons it was hard to be partnered with Larry. There was also his short temper and unpredictable behavior to contend with.

Like when Larry killed Kelman.  The mission parameters allowed for as many casualties as needed to get the job done, but it was completely unnecessary to gun the guy down.  They could have easily restrained him.  But Kelman started asking questions and Larry got enraged and fired without thinking.

Blass was a different story.  Nat berated himself for not making that shot.  The mission was to terminate Project LARS as completely as possible.  If he had managed to eliminate the project lead, it would surely have led to some extra recognition.

Standing in the stupid airlock, he blundered around trying to load a new bullet into the pistol.  With the heavy gloves on, it felt like he was trying to thread a needle with his eyes crossed.  Whoever they had working on those 3D printers needed to figure out something better than a single-shot gun.

The round finally found the chamber and he slapped the barrel back into position.  Larry was staring at him.  He had probably been watching him the whole time as he struggled with the darn thing.  Nat held the pistol up to show him it was all set and then directed the big man's attention to the door.

It was beginning to open.  The mechanics moved it inch by painfully slow inch, and true to form, Larry lost his cool.  He'd never make it past grunt work.  Any delay seemed to spur him into a steroid-induced fury.

The door must have weighed at least a ton but the idiot actually tried to push the freaking thing open.  What the hell was the rush?  There was no advantage in speeding this thing along.  Until the security team upstairs was taken care of, they were stuck down here anyway.  Why exert yourself for nothing?

Except, it seemed to be working.  There was no way the guy was actually overpowering the hydraulics.  It must have just been Nat's imagination.

As the gap widened, the bedroom began to reveal itself.  The girly-girl look of the cage was eerie.  It was a reminder of the abomination they were about to face.  Nat hadn't gotten to see it for the monster it was, but it was just plain wrong that the creature disguised itself as a little girl.  And it was deeply unsettling that the DTAA treated it as though it actually were a human child.

The target was cowering on the other side of the room.  It seemed to be trying to take shelter in the doorway directly opposite them.  This was going to be easier than he had thought.  The phrase shooting fish in a barrel came to mind.

Nat raised his gun and took aim.  He wouldn't go for anything fancy.  The pistol had a tendency to veer toward the left and he'd have to compensate.  He'd take a safe shot at the center of its chest.  A nice, simple shot to take it down quickly. 

The explosion right next to his ear nearly made him misfire.  That freaking, stupid ape, Larry, had fired without even aiming.  That was no way to do it.  Besides this was supposed to be Nat's kill.

"What the heck do you think you're...?" He was about to lay into Larry and his incompetence when he realized something was very strange.  Not only had Larry missed, leaving nothing but a ding in the metal door, but the target seemed to have vanished.

Nat's mouth hung open tasting the stale, plasticized air of his hazmat suit.

A blur crossed in front of him.  He tried following it with his eyes but it was too fast.  Then the sound hit like a tsunami.

The hellish shriek was like nothing else on Earth.  It physically winded him.  His gun clattered to the floor as his fingers turned to rubber.  He clenched his eyes shut as though bracing himself against a strong wind.  Bile filled his throat and the fetid acid choked him.  There was an odd sensation of his mind separating from his body.  One seemed ready to rise; the other, ready to fall.

He was shuddering so fiercely he wasn't even sure when the noise ended.  It echoed in his head long after it stopped.

A lifetime of learning and years of training were erased.  His brain consisted of only one thought: get out—get out now!

He leaped for the door but his legs didn't follow him.  The signal from his head never got there.  He sprawled out onto the floor, his nose bouncing off the plastic mask and his teeth crashing against the hard tile.

Clamoring to get to his feet, he saw it.  It was impossible.  It wasn't a full moon.  It was barely past sunset.  It couldn't be happening, but there it was.  The gosh-darn beast stood on top of the bed snarling down at him.  From Nat's lowly perspective, it looked twelve feet tall.  It went against reality.  It wasn't an animal but something patched together from a lunatic's nightmares and bad acid trips.  Even the fur on the freaking thing looked deadly, like fibrous razors bristling down its back.  Its eyes sucked him in and left him quaking in despair.

Larry seemed less affected. He raised his pistol.  The muzzle was four feet from the thing's head—an impossible shot to miss.  Once again, there was not a moment of hesitation.  His gun fired with a click. 

The dolt hadn't reloaded.

The creature's bared its teeth in what looked like a smile—like the dratted thing was laughing at Larry.  Then, it was on him.  It's massive maw wrapped around his forearm. 

In training, Nat had learned to fend off guard dogs in a padded suit.  For a moment, it looked just like that as Larry pitted his brute strength against the horrible creature.  But the hazmat suit provided no protection.  First, the blood started seeping out around the thing's mouth, then the bones snapped.  Larry frantically beat against its head with his free fist, his mouth opened wide with pain.

Nat looked away and clawed his way to the door.  With his belly pressed flat, he squirmed his way to the portal's chamber, his ears filled with his partner's screams.

When he was completely across the threshold, Nat dragged himself to his feet and hit the button to seal the portal.

In the princess bedroom, Larry was crab crawling backward, while the beast slowly, patiently, stalked him.  His right hand was gone.  The yellow of the suit ended abruptly in a deep burgundy stain. 

Nausea hit Nat as he frantically pressed the button, praying it would make the door move faster.

Larry stopped his sluggish movement and faced the wolf.  His hand clamped down on Nat's pistol and he brought it up and fired in one swift motion.

Orange flames created a burning afterimage in Nat's eyes.  He blinked it away and when he looked back, the monster was on top of Larry, unharmed.  How the heck could he have missed?  Larry had his problems but he wasn't that lousy a shot.  Had the monster jumped over the bullet to land on its prey?

By some miracle, the big man had stopped the wolf with a hand against its throat.  He kept the drooling maw of teeth at bay, inches from his face.  The creature emitted a low growl, which seemed to set a vibration through the room.

The door's progress blocked the scene from view.  Nat had no interest in watching Larry get torn apart, but he was unable to stop himself from limping over to the door's porthole window to see.

Through some sheer force of will and strength, Larry pushed the beast off of him and flung it onto its side.  It didn't seem possible that he could fend off that ferocious monster.  But perhaps it was?  Scientifically, the mass of the creature couldn't be any different than that of the girl.  Which meant, his partner outweighed it three times over.

The wolf spun and was immediately on its feet but it didn't pounce.  Larry took the opportunity to scramble up and dash for the portal.

"Stop the door," he screamed.

The wolf didn't advance.  It even took a step back, as though to give Nat a chance to rescue Larry.

The thing wants me to open the door.  Nat's frantic mind screeched at the realization, Holy bejeezus, it wants both of us.

Larry thrust his hand into the gap and tried to pull it open just as he had tried to push it earlier.  Whether he was capable of moving it or not, once the door's sensor detected an obstacle, it would stop and begin to reverse.

Nat backed up and kicked Larry's fingers.

"You son-of-a-bitch," Larry cursed.  "I'm going to fucking kill you."

His foot lashed out again but the handheld firm.  With one last effort, Nat slammed his heel against the glove and the hand pulled back.  A giant breath burst out of him as the space became too narrow for the big man to try again.  Larry and the wolf were trapped on the other side of two-thousand pounds of steel.

Larry's face pressed against the porthole with rage.  He tore off his hood and yelled a torrent of profanity.  Then, his screams turned into one long wail of agony as the wolf dragged him backward into its lair.

Nat slid to the floor in relief and exhaustion.  A weak smile even rose to his face.  He was safe.  He would at least make it out of here alive.  His career may be over but he could deal with the failure of the mission later.  Maybe he'd be able to blame it all on Larry.

His relief evaporated when a buzzer and a red warning light came on inside of the chamber.

***

Author's note: Okay, so this was a long one. I know I broke a major rule of writing by switching to a character introduced in the last quarter of the book but it was the way I wanted to portray this scene, so I went with it. It also gave me the opportunity to fill in some of the unknown aspects of SBI's attack.

What did you think? Would you have preferred to have gotten this from Amy's perspective? Did getting a look at the other side of the plan clear things up or was it redundant?