Zino Bertran exhaled slowly, deliberately. He rolled back to the heels of his feet and put his head in his hands. Now that the moment of danger was gone, the adrenaline left him. He left cold and distant; emotions bubbled in the back of his mind, threatening to break through. Instead, he just felt tired. The agent let the tension he in his shoulders out, unaware he had been carrying it. Zino’s head pounded. ‘[color=eee0e5][i]Damn, I wish I had a cigarette…[/i][/color]’

His brows furrowed. As he sat back, something brushed his hand. Mr. Bertan picked up his gun and slid it into the holster. He lingered longer on the mask and the security I.D. Silently, his mouth formed words but dared not utter them out loud. ‘[color=eee0e5][i]Bureau of Extramundane Research and Mitigation.[/i][/color]’ He picked up the slim card and looked at it.

It was plastic, encased in clear laminate and attached to a retractable string and clip. ‘Department of Homeland Security’ and ‘Central Intelligence Agency’ was printed in large letters across the top followed by ‘B.E.R.M’ in smaller text. Zino rubbed the I.D. between his thumb and forefinger. His own face stared back at him--young and smiling. He hardly looked like the same person. His finger traced over the name: Zino G. Bertran. The agent looked up to the spot where Koda had once stood. '[i][color=eee0e5]Could I have done that? Could I have killed him?[/color][/i]'

[i]Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear her speak. It was as if all of the sound and saturation had been sucked away. A young woman looked up at him with round, pleading eyes. She was bound to a table with leather straps securing her arms, legs, and head. Something in him softened, and he gave a sincere and reassuring smile. His hand touched her forearm. She smiled back.[/i]

Zino nodded, answering his own question. 

[i]'Remains remanded for testing.'[/i]

He clipped the identification badge to his shirt and tucked the mask away. His lips were drawn in a tight line, looking tired and grim. Bertran could hear her crying echo in his head. "[color=eee0e5]Miss Stormy Jean,[/color]" he leaned forward again and cupped her cheek, "[color=eee0e5]You're probably going into shock. Listen, I--...[/color]" Zino stopped himself, frowning. She looked so vulnerable: tears pooled in her laugh-lines and streaked down her face; she had turned away from him, away from others; blood soaked her clothes and hair. Only her even breath gave him some hope for Stormy. 

[i]Her body had showed no signs of change. It had taken them weeks to find her remains, but they were pristine--warm, even. He looked over the notes from her autopsy, but there was no clear cause of death. They had succeeded, but at the cost of her life. Perhaps the strain of the journey was too great on her body, perhaps her unguided mind had simply snapped under whatever lay on the other side. He put his head on his desk and wept. Eventually, one of them would come back alive.[/i]

Mr. Bertran lifted Stormy off the ground. Her head rested against his shoulder, and his arms supported her under her back and knees. His face hardened as he turned to the rest of the group. Silvery eyes flicked over them, one by one. "[color=eee0e5]Lives are at stake. Our lives, their lives... We can't waste any more time.[/color]" He adjusted the woman in his arms but could not bring himself to ask for help. "[color=eee0e5]We [i]have[/i] to get to the Magician.[/color]"