Author's Notes: This is based off Season 1 (1994) of the TV series Viper only, with the original depictions of Joe Astor, Frankie Waters, Julian Wilkes, and Sally Gerraro. I'm ignoring the other three seasons (see the end of the story for a more detailed summary of Season One). Viper belongs to Pet Fly productions (the car belongs to Dodge). References to the episodes "Pilot (parts 1 and 2)", "Once a Thief," "Past Tense," and "Scoop." All characters belong to Pet Fly with the exception of Aiko Chan (She's mine! All mine!). Pepto-Bismol belongs to Pepto-Bismol.

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A Look In The Mirror
Evil Overlady

- Prologue -

Joe tossed and turned in his sleep, ripping up sheets into massive bundles that threatened to entangle him. He grunted, eyes sliding back and forth wildly as he found himself caught in a nightmare. ...A nightmare that would never end.

"It's my life!"

His twin stood with him in the dim spotlight of an otherwise pitch black room, his hair long wavy and brown. He had chestnut eyes and a mustache and beard, and he wore a long black trench coat, reminding Astor a little of Bolo. "Your past life," came the voice exactly like his own. "You have a new life now, a life I never dreamed possible."

"But I had no choice!"

"Life is rough. Get over it."

Mid-length hair tossed. "You have no idea what it's like..."

"Which? To not have a past to haunt you or to have a second chance?"

"My past is haunting me! You're haunting me. You're like... like this huge crossword puzzle hanging over my head, and if I can't figure out Number One Across, I could get taken out by a sniper's bullet before I'd even know what hit me."

"So, I made a few enemies during my days with the Outfit. Can I help it if I'm a nice criminal. Besides, you're doing pretty well. You got the Viper, don't you?"

"If I hadn't, it'd be scrap by now or in Outfit hands. ...Why'd you become a criminal in the first place if you're gonna keep saving people's necks, anyway?"

Payton smiled. "You're thinking like Julian, Joe. You think I wanted to become a thief? I chose that line of work 'cause it paid and it generally didn't involve killing anyone. Getting involved with the Outfit was a mistake. I realize that now, but now we're out. Wasn't the best way to get out, I know, but we are out. And now you have a start on a new life. It's not the safest life." He smiled. "But when did we ever go for safe?"

"Stop talking about us like we're the same person. We're not."

"We are the same, Joe. We may have led different lives, but we wanted the same out of both of them, to help people. And one of these days you're going to have enough of this new life behind you that I won't matter anymore."

"But you do matter. All the people you knew, the sacrifices you made, and Mom."

Michael smiled sadly. "She'd be proud of you, Joe. I only wish the Viper Project had been started earlier so she could've seen us. A damn shame..." He shook his head and looked up. "Forget about me, Joe. There's nothing about me worth sharing with the world. I died stealing a satellite for the Outfit when I told myself the burglary before that would be the last job I'd do. I'm just a shadow."

"You made me who I am."

"You made yourself." He turned and faded into the dark, his trench coat trailing behind him. "You better answer that. It's probably important."

Turquoise-blue eyes frowned as he recognized the sing-song beeps of the phone.

Joe jerked awake, sitting up in bed as the phone continued to ring.

A shaky hand pushed sweaty mid-length ash blond hair from his face, and he threw off his blankets and walked uneasily into the other room in a white shirt and grey sweatpants, and hit a button on the keyboard. "Yeah?"

"Joe! You're never gonna believe this..."

"Frankie?" He blinked and glanced at his watch. "What time is it?"

"Time for me to be wishing I hadn't had breakfast."

"Slow down, Frankie. What happened?"

"It's Gerraro."

Blue eyes snapped awake. "What happened to Sally?"

"She found a body, Joe, and may I say... I am glad I don't work homicide. Anyway, she told me to tell you, the guy she found was an old acquaintance of yours..."

"You wanna be more specific?"

"It was Doctor Samuels, Joe."

"Doctor Samuels... Doctor Kenneth Samuels?"

"The one and only."

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A Look In The Mirror
Evil Overlady

- Chapter 1 -

Joe Astor maneuvered around some computer equipment lying on the floor of the power station, two cups of coffee gripped in the palms of his hands and handed one of them off to Lieutenant Gerraro.

"Thanks," she whispered, breathing into the cup, brown eyes glued to screen as Frankie and Julian browsed through her case files. "Construction workers found the black BMW off the side of the cliff, crumpled like tin foil," she continued. "It's been there for weeks."

"Okay... Can we skip the gory details?" Frankie whimpered, debating whether to take another sip of Joe's brew or put the mug down. After a moment he picked the former.

"There's nothing in here that says foul play was involved," Julian noted with a frown.

"It's assumed a homicide till we prove otherwise. Standard procedure."

"But you think it was," Joe finished, his thoughts elsewhere. He hated the doctor for what he did to him, erased his memories of being Michael Payton, but in the end he had offered Joe the opportunity to get those memories back. I never would've wanted this to happen to him.

"Well, come on, Astor. The guy was a former employee of the Quantimax Research Group. Needless to say, he was into some pretty heavy stuff."

"No kidding," he mumbled. "What exactly does Quantimax do?"

"Lots of creepy stuff in a bunch of long scientific words. ...Especially if it has to do with the brain. Whoo!" Frankie shook under the sports jacket like someone had put an ice cube to his neck.

"Dr. Samuels left Quantimax months ago, didn't he? Why would they want to kill him?"

"Nearest and dearest, Astor. And right now, that's our only lead."

"Unless it was the Outfit."

Sally lifted her head curiously. "Why do you say that?"

Damn! He'd said that out loud. He didn't need the Lieutenant knowing about his involvement in the Quantimax Research facility theft.

"Joe and I believe the Outfit had a hand in the Quantimax Research Group burglary," Julian interjected. "It's possible they might've tried to offer Dr. Samuels a job, and he turned it down with some... nasty results."

Gerraro accepted the scenario. "I'll look into it."

"In the meantime, I'll take the Viper out on patrol. Maybe there's still a warm trail out there." Joe jabbed a thumb the red car's direction.

"Actually, that wouldn't be a bad idea," Sally opted. "Quantimax is supposed to be getting a shipment of neurotoxins."

"Neurotoxins?" Frankie squeaked.

"Relax, Waters. They're the mild kind, for medical uses."

"That's it." Frankie planted his mostly empty cup firmly on the desk. "I don't want to hear the word 'brain' in any language for the next couple of decades."

Joe stifled a smile, noting Julian's lack of success in that department. "We'll keep a look out."

"Thanks." She eyed Frankie and Julian.

"Yeah, I know. Pick you up at eight," he recited in a whisper. "Boy, dead bodies don't faze you in the slightest, do they."

She stabbed a finger in his arm as she passed him. "Just remember you said that if you're late."

He raised an eyebrow as she brushed by him then turned to see both Frankie and Julian watching him like expectant listeners to a campside story. "What? She just wants a few tips on how to make Spaghetti Carbonara."

"Yeah, oodles of noodles. Just make sure you got your potholders handy, Joe. I don't wanna pick up after third degree burns, if ya know what I mean."

"You're a real friend, Frankie."

He raised his hands. "Hey, I'm just saying..."

"Stay in touch," Joe said to Julian, walking backwards towards the car.

"Like there's ever an alternative."

* * * * *

It's like deja vu all over again... Here he was tailing another Quantimax truck, not as a potential hijacker but as its protectorate, cruising along with the rest of the traffic in the red convertible, ready to change to Defender mode when the need arose.

He couldn't help his eyes jerking when he saw a yellow car pass him going the opposite way.

It's not Tim.

Tim Rackam had been some kid Michael Payton knew. The Outfit employed Tim to hijack an armored truck, the same armored truck Dr. Samuels had tried to talk Joe into stopping. It had contained a device the doctor invented and was willing to use to return Michael Payton's memories.

When Joe screwed up that job, he turned to the research facilities themselves, coincidentally leaving a door open for Tim to enter and try again to take the device himself.

Julian was right. It wasn't Joe. He didn't steal, and it was selfish of him, to use the inventions Julian poured sweat and blood to fight crime.

Joe shook his head. What kind of "nice guy" teaches a thirteen year old how to steal cars?

You don't know what it's like, Joe, came Payton's voice even as Joe was awake. The kid was going nowhere with his life. At least I got him off drugs.

You should've gotten him a high school education while you were at it! he snapped then growled to himself, shoving hair from his face with a gloved palm.

"You okay, Joe?"

"Peachy."

Brown skin creased. "Look... Joe. I'm sorry about Doctor Samuels. I know how much his research meant to you..."

"Look, I was wrong. You were right. Now, could we talk about this later? I'm following a truck full of chemicals that could scramble your brains."

"Yeah. Sure."

Joe sighed as Julian's eyes turned to other monitoring equipment.

Screeching tires caught Joe's attention, and he looked to the rearview mirror above him.

A black car wove from the left-hand lane to the right-hand lane, creeping up on Astor's tail.

"Heads up. Looks like we've got company."

"Sure he's after the truck?"

"Only one way to find out..."

Joe touched a finger to a button. Numbers dialed on a tiny screen, landing 3-7-5-9. The three dials flipped around to two monitors above a main one. Side view mirrors retracted, and a roof came up, enclosing Joe as red hexagonal tiles flipped to metal-gray, the windshield tinting brown. Headlights turned to creepy slits above a guard rail resembling two fangs.

The Viper spun, letting passers-by continue on their route before intersecting with the mysterious black car.

He caught the suspect off guard. The mystery driver burned rubber to slow himself down but only enough to veer left and pass Joe.

Joe threw the car into reverse and gave chase. "Julian. Either he's in an awful hurry to get to work, or he's our man."

"Just one?"

"Wouldn't be the first time..."

Julian shook his head. "I don't like it, Joe. It's like he wanted to get your attention."

"Well, what would you suggest? I let him go?"

"Just stay on your toes."

"I hear ya..."

Joe sped around the curve of the mountain road, just barely catching a glimpse of the red tail lights.

A bead of sweat made its way to the corner of one eye, and Joe blinked it away, eyes widening as the side of the light-gray armored car met him square in the center of the road. "Oh, shi...!" He pulled hard on the steering wheel, turning the Viper to its side, but it wasn't good enough. The Viper crashed into the stalled armored car broadside.

"Joe!" Julian screamed, and the monitors snapped out.

Slowly, an ash blond head lifted from the steering wheel, blood trickling from a cut in his forehead.

Joe could hear the purr of an engine and looked up.

The black car sat there, its windows clear enough to see a woman toss him a smile before she sped off.

There was an eerie silence only interrupted by a hissing sound from the truck now with a gash in its side. The neurotoxins! There was a crack in the seal of the passenger door, and the gasses were leaking through.

Joe fought off the tingling sensation in his lips and coughed before he switched the Viper into reverse and moved carefully out of range of the gasses.

A gloved hand covered another cough. I have to help those people.

He reached for the door handle when suddenly the world grayed and fizzled like a TV screen. "Uh..."

He saw a passenger climb out of the armored truck, and he tried to will himself to go to his aid, but his muscles tensed up. He couldn't move. Something mechanical clicked in his ears, and he was out like a light.

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A Look In The Mirror
Evil Overlady

- Chapter 2 -

Julian found himself staring at screens of scrambled pictures, stiff fingers racing across the keyboard. "Joe!" he yelled into his headset. "Joe, are you all right? I'm reading a malfunction in the monitoring equipment."

* * * * *

Police sirens blared in Michael Payton's ears as he pushed the assigned black outfit car to its limits.

Wind whipped his eyes with no windshield to hold it at bay.

The wind in his ears drowned out the sirens, but he knew they had to be close. He just wondered how close.

The roadway looked clear.

He risked a glance over his shoulder.

Looking back, he found the backside of a city bus in his path.

He braced himself, expecting to crash into a stationary vehicle, but it wasn't stationary. He scraped along its side and veered sharply left, running up a cement wall until the car flipped over and the world blinked out.

"Joe..." a man's voice called. "Joe, the rescue units are closing in on your position..."

Moaning, Michael lifted his head from the steering wheel. "Joe?" he blinked.

Then, he heard the sirens. Not just police, though. A fire engine was also blowing its horn. And it was daylight not night. The car wasn't upside-down. It wasn't even the same car. "What the..."

"Joe!"

"I... I hear you." Whoever you are. "Nickels..." He put a hand to his temple. There was no headset. "What the hell is going on around here?"

"Nickels? Joe, Nickels has been in state prison for almost half a year. Are you sure it was him?"

"I'm not sure of anything..." Why does he keep calling me 'Joe'? Michael could hear the sirens closing in. "Look, I'll meetcha back at the garage. I need to get some heat off my tail..."

"The garage? You mean the Motor Pool?"

"Yeah. Right. The motor pool."

"Joe, are you all right? You sound... upset."

"I'll talk to you later!" he snapped. "Over and out." He pressed a button to sever the link; hesitated a second, wondering how he'd known which button it was. "I just need to find some answers first."

He pushed the stick into Drive and sped off, steering around some wrecked armor truck.

* * * * *

Lane Cassidy scribbled another signature with his new fountain pen for yet another charity that would improve his public image.

"A Miss Chan is here to see you, Mr. Cassidy," sounded his young secretary's voice from the speaker on his desk.

"Thank you, Fiona. Send her in."

One of the pair of wooden doors with their harpy eagle engravings opened, and a slender Chinese woman walked in, a blue jean jacket covering her short black dress. She crossed the room in knee high black leather boots, and Lane saw a NASCAR patch on her jacket.

"Miss Chan." He bowed his head. "Please, have a seat."

Brown eyes noted the chair a moment and she settled down, setting a black purse on her lap.

Lane stood. "Would you care for a drink?"

"No, thank you."

"I saw your little home video. You managed to match the Viper rather well, considering the Ex-Michael Payton was behind the wheel."

She shrugged. "He wasn't half bad for an amnesiac."

"And you didn't finish him."

Chestnut eyes leveled with him. "You said you wanted Astor's collaborators." She pulled a file from her purse and sawed away at hot-pink nails. "If one wants a pack of wolves, one leads them out into the open by wounding one of their own."

Lane pressed his hands firmly to the arms of her chair, leaning into her face. "I've spent three weeks setting all this up for you. That shipment of neurotoxins wasn't cheap."

"Neither am I."

Ice-blue eyes narrowed, but Lane said nothing.

"Look at it this way. Astor and his companions would never expect you to make such a sacrifice. We'll take them off guard. Tomorrow morning you'll have the Viper and its driver, and the Outfit will again have this city. Trust me."

"I better."

* * * * *

Frankie adjusted the headset uncomfortably, extending it to its limits to spare his well-kept hair as he stepped out of the 'Cuda. "Can I tell ya somethin'? I am not enjoying this. If Joe spots me-"

"Relax, Frankie. Something just doesn't feel right about the situation," sounded Julian's voice in his ears.

"Yeah. All right." He straightened his sports jacket. "But you owe me big time. ...Like an excuse to the Commander if I end up in the hospital again."

"All right, all right. Send me a bill."

"Count on it." He closed the door behind him and crept up along the wall of the old building. Pausing a moment to send a silent prayer that no one could see him, he poked his head around the doorway.

The Viper sat, still in Defender mode, in the center of the abandoned garage.

"Julian, I found the Viper." He made his way up to it, tracing a finger along its back.

"Okay, I'm reading structural damage on the passenger side."

"On it." He made his way around the car to find the bent and scraped hexagonal armor. "Would you poke out my eyes, Julian?! What d'Joe do? Run it up a brick wall?"

"How bad is it?"

"Well, actually, not that bad, considering some of the other things that nut's run into. Now, can I just take it home? I'm missing supper, you know."

"Not so fast. We still need to find Joe."

"Yeah, all right. No sense letting Gerraro have all the fun..."

A click sounded near his ears. "Don't move," came Joe's warning voice.

Frankie put a hand to his chest. "Jesus, Joe! You nearly gave me a heart attack...."

"I said, 'Don't move.'"

Deep brown eyebrows drew together, puzzled. "Joe?"

Fingers entangled themselves in his hair, and Joe removed the headset. "Who is this?" There was a pause.

"Joe, come on. It's me, Frankie. Put the gun away, okay?"

"Who sent you?"

"Sent me? Joe..."

Joe thrust Frankie into the Viper by the scruff of his neck. "Stop calling me 'Joe,'" he hissed.

"Yeah, okay..." Frankie exhaled. "I'm a flexible guy. What would you like to be called? Pick your poison. Not literally, mind you...."

"You first. Who are you working for?"

"The, uh, Metropolitan Police Department?"

"You're a cop?"

"Records officer." This was weird. "Look, Joe, if this is your idea of a joke - which I find strange coming from someone who's always seemed to me lacking a sense of humor..."

"Wait, wait... We know each other?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "We don't?"

Joe's grip loosened. "None of this is making any sense to me... Nickels is in the slammer? And what about Yuri? Andi? Connor?"

"Prison, prison, deceased. I thought you knew all this."

"I did. I mean, I must've... I mean, I don't know. Both of you seem familiar to me, but..."

"Seem familiar to you." Frankie risked a glance over his shoulder.

Screeching tires echoed in the alley nearby.

Blue eyes widened. "Into the car!" Joe yelled yanking Frankie off and dragging him around to the driver's side.

"Joe, what's going-?"

Joe shoved him across the driver's seat and slipped in himself just as machine gun fire erupted into the garage, bouncing off the bullet-proof coating of the car with high-pitched sproing's.

"Jesus!" Frankie screamed.

Joe turned the ignition noiselessly and threw the stick into Reverse, spinning tires as he flew out of the garage, hit Drive, and sped down the alley, blazing past the purple Barracuda.

"The 'Cuda!"

"I'll buy you another one," Joe snapped. "...Assuming I still can."

Frankie turned his gaze to the monitors. "Uh... They're gaining on us, Joe."

"How many?"

Frankie jabbed a finger at the monitors, showing an arial computer-game-like view of at least three cars.

Blue eyes darted across the roadway in front of him before turning to where Frankie was pointing. "Fancy..." he mumbled. Remembering the headset in his fingers, he pressed it into Frankie's hands. "Here. You can talk to your friend now. Where are we going?"

Frankie fumbled with the headset, dropping it down over his head, deciding to fix his hair later. "Julian, I got Joe. We're trying to make it back to the station-" He pulled on his seatbelt.

Joe shook his head. "Oh, no. I'm not going to any cop place."

"The power station, Joe." He turned back to Julian. "I think those neurotoxins must've crossed some circuits in his head. He doesn't seem to remember being Joe."

Clicking keys sounded from the other end as Julian chose to reserve his questions for later. "I just called in a disturbance. See if you can lose 'em on Market Street."

"Okay. Hold on." He turned to Joe. "You remember where Market Street is?"

Joe just flashed him a smile and pulled hard on the steering wheel, throwing Frankie against his window.

Face pressed against the cold glass, Frankie moaned, "Remind me to pick up some Pepto-Bismol on the way home..."

Two cars spun, colliding with one another, but one black one kept on them.

"He's good."

Slowly, Frankie straightened. "Holy cinder blocks... That's no average drive-by, Joe. I think that's..."

The black car gained road and rammed them.

"Definitely Aiko Chan!" Frankie managed to finish.

"Aiko?"

"Michael Payton's female counterpart, if you will."

Joe veered into the left lane and slammed on the brakes.

Frankie bumped his forehead on the dashboard and surfaced, palm to the bump that would eventually form. "Joe, what're you doing?!"

Joe was already spinning the steering wheel, pulling a 270 and cutting across the road into another side street while Aiko was still slowing enough to turn without flipping over.

"Sleek!"

"That won't hold her long. Where's this power station of yours? Left or right?"

"Left!"

They made a left onto Market Street and a swift right-hand turn into yet another alley and turned off the lights just as police cruisers sped past them, after Aiko.

Frankie breathed heavily for several minutes before turning to Joe. "Wow."

"Tell me about it..."

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A Look In The Mirror
Evil Overlady

- Chapter 3 -

Aiko spun the wheel and stomped on the gas, twisting out of the police cruisers' grasp and making several turns down the road.

"Damn it!" she cursed.

"Problem?" Cassidy poked.

"I lost him," she growled, her Japanese accent filtering through. "He took off with someone. I didn't see who."

"Not to worry. Plan B is in place."

Pink lips curved in a smile. You're mine, Astor...

* * * * *

"Aiko Chan," Frankie reported, flipping through files on a computer while Julian assessed the damage done to his car. "Shoplifting, grand larceny, jewelry theft... Boy, what a character. I'll bet my last bottle of motor oil, she was the one who crashed Joe into that brain-mixer on wheels."

"Not Nickels?"

"Nickels? The man's locked up more securely than the proverbial jailbird. Why you ask?"

"Eh. Joe mentioned him just before breaking off contact with me," Julian tossed.

"Yeah. Joe's been saying a lot of weird stuff lately." Frankie put a partly-melted bag of ice to his head. "And he drives a whole lot more recklessly than usual."

Julian put a pocket wrench onto a nearby tool cabinet, smiling. "And here I thought that was an impossibility."

"Oh, ha! Have you seen what he did to my head?" Frankie lifted the ice bag pointedly. "Lucky I was wearing a seat belt. Probably would've shot me through the windshield like a nuclear missile."

"You'll live."

"Yeah, I'll just say a crowbar fell on me in the garage." Frankie groaned, massaging the bruise.

"Where is Joe, by the way?"

Frankie just pointed. "Upstairs poking around. Didn't say for what, though. I'm not kidding, Julian. The guy was a real lone ranger out there. If I didn't know any better I'd say those mind-melding gasses did a real hack job on that gizmo in his head. I mean, call it what you will, Julian, but I think that whole grab a person's memories and store 'em on disk is just a tiny step into the realm of impossibility."

"What're you saying?" Julian frowned. "That Joe's somehow Michael Payton again?"

"Well, think about it, Julian. Joe tells me he doesn't remember us but he mentions everyone from the Vectrocom robbery? Doesn't that strike you as just a tad more than a reaction to a traumatic experience?"

"Dr. Samuels's methods were a little... less than legal, but why would he lie?"

"Maybe he didn't know he was lying. Didn't he say his memories were also tampered with? Maybe he didn't know what he did with Michael Payton's memories, and they're still in there and those brain toxins went and flipped the circuit breakers, if you will."

"Let's say you're right. How do we 'flip the circuit breakers' back?"

"That I don't know."

They eyed each other. "But Aiko might," they said in unison.

"I'm on it." Frankie twirled the chair back to the computer screen and danced fingers across the keyboard more vigorously.

"And while you're at it, see what you can pull up on Dr. Samuels. I'm gonna go check on Joe... Michael Payton. Whichever he might be."

"You sure you wanna do that, Julian? I mean, I know you and criminals don't get along..."

"I'll be fine, Frankie. There's still some part of him that's Joe. Why else would he pull you into the Viper instead of leaving you to be Swiss cheese?"

"Good point, but still... Be careful."

Julian gave him a nod and turned his wheelchair towards the elevator.

* * * * *

"Joe?"

"Over here," came a quiet voice.

Julian heard the quiet saxophones of the music "Where or When" playing on the stereo and followed his friend's voice to the bathroom, where he stood staring at a mirror, touching his face tentatively.

"What the hell happened to me?" he whispered.

"You hit an armored truck full of neurotoxins. I found a crack in the seal of the passenger door. I think you might've gotten exposed to them, and it gave you some sort of temporary amnesia."

He put a hand out. "I... I don't mean the armored truck. I mean, my eyes. They're blue. I... I'm supposed to have brown eyes. And my face..."

Julian lowered his head sadly as Frankie's and his fears came to light. "Look, Michael. I don't know how to tell you this..."

"Michael! You knew my name was Michael, but still you kept calling me 'Joe'? Who the hell is Joe, some undercover operator? Or maybe you and your Metropol friend are paying me to bring down my friends. Is that it?"

"No one's paying you, Joe - Michael. Would you just listen for a minute?"

Payton sneered but crossed his arms.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I... I hit a bus and flipped over." He closed his eyes. "Damn, I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt..."

"No one was hurt," Julian assured him, suddenly beginning to see the similarities and differences of Joe Astor and Michael Payton that had only been fragments before. "Except you. Metropol had you pronounced dead at the scene and took you to a hospital to be treated."

Michael looked at him puzzled. "The cops... helped me?"

"I wish I could say they did. Well, they did... in a way. They had a man named Dr. Samuels wipe out your memory and gave you a new identity as Joseph Payne Astor so you could drive the Viper." He pointed to the dining room windows that overlooked the makeshift garage below and continued quickly before Michael had a chance to tear his head off. "Long story short, you did find out who you were and the Outfit tried to talk you into stealing the car, and eventually you did, but not for them. You took it to fight them, Michael, and believe it or not you were the one who convinced us to help you."

"And that was all half a year ago?"

"Yes, half a year ago you yourself put Andi, Yuri, Nickels, and Connor in prison. Then, Connor later committed suicide."

He eyed him. "You expect me to believe all that?"

"Hey, Julian, guess what I found out?" Frankie's voice came some distance behind him. "While I was running a check on Aiko Chan, I accidentally cross-referenced her files to Dr. Samuels, when I found this... Michael Payton wasn't the first one to go through a miraculous criminal rehabilitation. According to the files, Dr. Samuels used his C.E.G. on over a dozen Outfit failures."

"Failures?" Julian frowned.

"Basically, it was a set up." He pressed a folder into Julian's hands. "Hi, Joe. You see, Michael Payton was the epitome of the good Samaritan. The only reason the Outfit kept him around was because of his skills, and when they found out he was getting too soft... Sayonara sucker."

"So, they let the police have him?" Julian flipped through the folder.

"Looks that way. A mark of stupidity on their part, though, I'd have to say. 'Cause if they'd known about the Viper Project..."

"That's why Townsend had that psycho in my group."

Frankie looked at Michael, puzzled. "Excuse me?"

"Congratulations, Frankie." Julian closed the folder. "Looks like you were right."

"Aren't I always?" He paused then noted Julian's motion to Michael.

"Frankie, meet Michael Payton."

"Poke out my eyes! I was right?!" Frankie slid back several feet.

Julian shook his head, trying not to laugh and handed the folder off to Michael.

Payton glanced at it. "Okay, so maybe you're both telling the truth. Certainly sounds a little bizarre to be a lie."

"You told him about the amnesia thing?" Frankie gasped.

"Can you imagine me not telling him?"

"Frankly, no."

Michael returned the folder. "But you still want something from me."

"Well, we gotta find this Aiko person so we can get you back to Joe Astor!" Then, he realized who he was talking to. "But then you probably don't want to be Joe again."

"You expect me to give up thirty years of memories for half a dozen months?"

Julian looked at him. "Those half a dozen months have been the most significant months in anybody's life. You helped get crooked cops and professional criminals alike off the street, cracked cold cases that might've never been solved. You helped people, Michael."

"Joe helped people." He turned away from them.

"Look, it wasn't two minutes ago you were telling me how you didn't mean to hit that bus. Did thirty years experience keep you from putting those people's lives in danger?"

"It was an Outfit job. I'm no longer part of the Outfit."

"But you're a part of this team. You made this team. Are you going to turn your back on that? Are you going to take another man's life into your hands? Your own?"

Michael looked at him.

The vid phone rang.

"That's your line, Michael."

Blue eyes looked icily at him, and Michael moved past them to pick it up.

"Incoming call," it read.

He pressed some keys on the remote.

An oriental woman appeared on the screen, smiling. "Ah... Joe Astor. So, Lane Cassidy was correct. You are working with Lieutenant Gerraro."

"What do you want?"

"Simple. I want your car. Meet me at that garage you shot out of, and we'll make the trade."

"And what if I don't want to trade?"

Pink lips curved in a smile. "Oh, don't be so naive, Astor. I know you would never let an innocent person pay for your crimes. Meet me in an hour, or you're going to find your Metropol friend in a dumpster. Oh, and Astor? No police." She severed the connection.

Slowly, Michael faced them.

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A Look In The Mirror
Evil Overlady

- Chapter 4 -

"This isn't my fight." Michael pulled on a deep chocolate trench coat and boarded his red motorcycle, tossing the hair from his face before pulling on his matching helmet.

"You can't just turn your back on this," Julian argued.

Michael looked at him. "Watch me."

"Damnit, Michael. Where're you going to go? Back to a life of crime? Back to the Outfit?"

"I was thinking Mexico."

"Oh, yeah. Mexico. Hey. While you're there, why don't you track down Claire Malloy. I'm sure there's someone out there who'd like to know that she's okay."

"How d'you know about Claire?"

"You think I didn't recognize that music you were playing? It was 'Where or When,' and a friend of yours, Frederick Lang, tried to use that tune to get to you when you were Joe Astor. Too bad it wasn't you... You probably would've saw that pitch from left field. Then, you wouldn't have helped Holly to get back her identity. But then, why am I surprised? You're willing to turn your back on Joe's friends."

"Joe's friend. Not mine."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what Joe said about you." Julian turned the wheel chair around and headed for a desk of monitors.

Michael watched him and saw the polished red viper, repaired and ready to go.

Michael's teeth ground in his mouth and thought back to that bus, but he could no longer recall what type of bus it was or what happened after he hit it.

He recognized Julian as a man whose wisdom surpassed his age, recalled him being some sort of family man, and the family was important to both of them. Michael lost his mother at a young age. All that was left were the streets and the people who equally suffered while the cops, while saying they wanted to help, were simply waiting for an excuse to be bribed.

"Oh, hell..." Michael pulled off his helmet.

* * * * *

Aiko waited on the catwalk of the garage, polishing her gun proudly.

"Mister Cassidy said to take him alive," her assigned companion warned.

"He didn't say in how many pieces..." She smiled.

The man sneered.

"Aiii!" another man screamed from the office.

"Touch me again and you'll go permanently sterile!" Lieutenant Gerraro yelled.

"I'll sedate her again," her partner said turning.

"No," Aiko said quickly. "I have to show Joe Astor his friend's still among the living."

"At the cost of how many of my men? Astor's not going to show. I doubt that was who she was even phoning."

"Oh, he'll show. I've made certain of that...."

"Just so long as you do what you were paid to do."

"Oh, I will." She grinned. "Trust me."

"I trust you about as much as I trust the average lawyer."

She smiled.

The Viper roared into the garage in its Defender mode.

"Ah... Right on schedule." She pushed past Cassidy's man. "Excuse me. I have an exchange to make. Bring out the Lieutenant."

She descended down a spiral stair case. "You know that's one thing I like about you, Astor. You're always predictable."

"Where's Lieutenant Gerraro?"

She smiled and turned to the catwalk above her where three large men wrestled the police officer out as long as they could bare and then struggled to return her to the office. "Astor, when I get my hands on you! You stood me up!"

"Let her go. It's not her you want anyways. It's the Viper."

"Indeed it is." Brown eyes leveled with the vigilante, and she put out her hand. "The keys."

"Oh, no." He shook his head, pulling off his gloves. "I hand them over to you and you'll just take us both out."

"Why, Joe..." She pulled out her gun and held it on him. "Whatever would give you that impression?"

* * * * *

Julian watched Viper's fore view worriedly as he steered the probe around behind them. Man, Payton! I hope you know what you're doing...

He moved the probe up over the catwalk and over the roofless office where Gerraro struggled, bound to a wooden chair.

Just an adjustment of the laser beam and he would have her free.

* * * * *

"That wasn't part of the agreement," the man beside her warned.

"To hell with agreements."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Michael said as he saw the red and blue flashes of Metropol.

Sirens sounded. "This is the police! We have you surrounded! Drop your weapons and come out with your hands in the air!" sounded some man's voice from a megaphone.

"Damn you, Astor!"

Michael dove over the hood of the car, bullets ricocheting off the bullet-proofed vehicle after him.

Two more shots fired before Michael heard running and a car door open.

"Oh, no, you don't," he growled, sliding back over the hood to get in the driver's side and into the Viper as Aiko's black car squealed out of there.

He gave chase, following the opening she left in the police cruiser barricade.

To his surprise, the cops didn't follow. A couple of them, while out of sight of their captain actually appeared to be cheering him on.

What kind of life have I been leading?

The black car roared over a hill, and the Viper landed smoothly, easily catching up with the less-advanced vehicle.

I love this car... Michael smiled, and brought up a screen of options Julian had demonstrated in the short time they had in the power station.

"Tracker missile," he selected and fired.

The weapons pod on the left fired a missile with a cable attached. It punched through the trunk of the car and expanded the four barbs of the grappling hook upon impact.

* * * * *

Aiko jerked from the impact made to the Outfit car. Brown eyes turned downward to a screen flashing "Structural damage. Rear panel."

"So, you wanna play rough..."

Black gloved fingers flipped some switches.

* * * * *

A bolt of electricity shot along the line and into the Viper, shocking Michael.

He screamed, and the world blurred.

* * * * *

The Viper swerved from lane to lane, pulling the line taut, but Aiko floored it, dragging him along.

A purple Barracuda appeared in her path.

Aiko gasped and spun hard on the steering wheel.

The Viper flew past her, but the Barracuda came at her from the opposite direction at such a speed it sent her crashing through the cement railing.

"Aiiiiii!!!!" She covered her face with her jean jacket arms.

* * * * *

"Ohhh, no!!!" Frankie screamed as he found himself sandwiched between the Viper and a cement railing that hadn't done much good in containing the Outfit car.

Frankie watched as the car dangled, unable to exit either the driver's side nor the passenger side door.

* * * * *

Slowly, Aiko lowered her arms, seeing the dry river bed a couple of stories below her, but she was alive.

"Aiko," Astor's voice sounded from a speaker above her. "Sit tight. I'm going to try to reel you in. Don't move. Okay?"

"Like hell I'm just going to sit here." She pulled her grappling gun from her burglary belt and shuffled in the car for the best angle to get at a bridge piling.

* * * * *

Sweat trickled down Frankie's face. "Hurry it up, Michael," he breathed.

The Barracuda lurched forward toward the dangling car, and more railing crumbled away.

Nervous fingers picked up the headset. "Michael, you're not going to be able to pull her up with that tangled line. You should use another line."

"Joe would know what he was doing-"

The Viper purred and moved backward, easing off on the 'Cuda as he brought in the line.

"Uh..."

Frankie gulped and nodded once, easing the car back.

Several grueling seconds passed, and Michael Payton brought the car in safely with Frankie's Barracuda sitting in the center of the bridge away from any railings.

Frankie rolled down the window on the driver's side door and slipped out.

Michael tore through the contents of the Outfit car. "Nothing," he growled. "She bailed."

Frankie shrugged sadly. "Well, she is a thief."

"Yeah... Sorry 'bout the 'Cuda."

"Eh... No problem. I'll probably scream about it later, like when my life stops flashing before my eyes." He lifted a hand. "Hey, how'd you know my middle initial, anyway?"

He smiled. "Think I'd ever forget the ol' 'Franklin X. Waters, department motor pool'?" he said in his best imitation of Frankie.

"Joe?!"

"Last time I checked. You're welcome." He paused. "Someone mind telling me how I ended up on this bridge?"

Frankie beamed with joy, the wrecked 'Cuda and lost suspect thrust into the back of his mind. The Viper's driver was back!

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A Look In The Mirror
Evil Overlady

- Epilogue -

Joe massaged the purring black kitten in his hands he'd so long ago acquired during that incident with Michael Payton's wife.

Wife, wow. He never could get it to sink in.

"Medical examiner's report came in," Julian reported, leaning on the back of a chair from his seat in the wheelchair. "It wasn't Doctor Samuels in the car. We think it might've been some homeless guy dressed to look like him. Metropol's still trying to identify him."

"So, Doctor Samuels's is still out there, and somehow this Aiko Chan just staged the murder to get my attention."

"Looks that way."

"Figures..."

"There's no way to know whether or not she knew you'd flip to Michael Payton."

"I wouldn't rule it out."

Julian cleared his throat. "Anyways, I think Gerraro's going to forgive you. In fact, she expressed how surprised she was that criminal mischief Michael Payton was willing to risk life and limb to save her."

"Yeah? Well, she's not the only one in awe."

"Look, Joe." His name came out hesitant on Julian's lips. "I owe you an apology."

Joe turned to him, surprised. "You owe me? Julian, I wrecked the Viper. Not to mention Frankie's car... Gerraro's date... At least I didn't hurt your kids."

Julian laughed softly.

"What's so funny?"

"You." He wheeled out from behind the chair to face him more directly. "Michael Payton wasn't like Connor, Joe. He wasn't like anyone I - even Frankie - encountered. ...Except one man, you."

Joe sighed. "Sometimes, I wonder..."

Julian's smile turned to a look of concern and sympathy, but he said nothing.

The kitten meowed at him.

"So you don't remember anything after hitting the Quantimax truck?" Julian inquired.

He shrugged. "Not really, no. The next thing I knew Frankie was in trouble and Miss Chan was hanging off the cable. It wasn't till Frankie found out it was me that it hit me that something was off." He stroked the cat again. "You suppose she got what she came for?"

"If she didn't, I imagine we'll see her again."

"That's a scary thought." He eyed Julian. "So... ah... Michael say anything about me?"

"He said you were a do-gooder and insane for messing with the Outfit, but - and I quote - 'He got himself some pretty rad wheels there, so I guess that counts for something.'"

For the first time, Joe laughed. "Nothing else, huh? Nothing about where I was born or what friends I had or how many others out there have an axe to grind with me?"

"Nope. Nadda."

He turned away sadly. "So, he's gone. Just another look in the mirror."

"Delia's willing to talk to some doctors to get that chip deactivated. 'Just say the word,' she said."

"She has every right to feel guilty for what she let them do to me." Joe looked at Julian again. "But I don't think I'm ready to have some doctors poking around up there. They might miss, you know. Besides..." He stood up, scooping up the kitten and looking out the window of the dining area to the level below where the Viper sat. "Michael Payton didn't make me the man I am, the Viper's driver."

Julian caught up with him.

"I made myself."

He found a faint reflection in the glass and smiled.

The End

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Viper (Season One) Summary: The story begins approximately six years into the future in a city run by a powerful criminal organization called "the Outfit." Julian Wilkes invents an experimental police vehicle called the Viper to fight them. There's just one problem. The car lacks a driver. So enters Joe Astor. Joe was once Michael Payton, a thief and the best driver the Outfit's ever turned out, until a greedy councilman with nothing but the thought of running for mayor on his mind has some doctors give him a technologically-induced amnesia. They alter his appearance and give him a new identity as a police officer. However, the Outfit soon finds out who Joe Astor really is and reveal to him the dark secret in an attempt to employ him to stop this potential threat to their operations. Joe, torn between the man he was and the man he'd become, eventually sides with the car; and when the Outfit pays city officials to trash the project, Joe, with the help of Franklin X. Waters (a car lover from the Metropol motor pool) and a reluctant Julian Wilkes liberates the car to fight crime as it was meant to...

Other characters:
Delia Thorne, briefly mentioned in this story, once worked for Metropol and was the one who authorized Joe's induced amnesia. She's always felt guilty about it. Later on, she joins a group called "The Consortium," a kind of anti-Outfit organization that occasionally employs the Viper team.
Lieutenant Sally Gerraro used to be Detective Sally Gerraro until she got promoted in the series. The team helped her put away a couple of criminals, including exposing a few crooked cops she didn't know about.
Mister Townsend was a major player in the Outfit. We never find out what happens to him. Mister Lane Cassidy appears to have replaced him. To everyone else, Lane Cassidy is a charity guy, but as Delia has said, "He is as crooked as they come."

If you have any questions or comments, feel free to e-mail me.