Hopefully you're still with me...

"Turn it off."

"What? You sure, boss?"

"Of course I'm bloody sure…and put those guns away, they won't do you any good anyway."

Rolling his eyes, Quinn watched as the three guards did as instructed and slung their assault rifles over their shoulders. Each man eyeing him sceptically, he pulled a small device out of his pocket. "Now, you each have one of these. Remember, this is all the weapon you'll ever need with this one."

Despite a few grumbles from the men, they each pulled out their own small, black device, identical to Quinn's. Turning it over in his hand, Tom looked up at his boss sceptically.

"Trust me." Was all he received from the Australian before he nodded at a point above their heads. "Go, take up your positions, and keep your bloody eyes open. I'm not paying you to stand around and look pretty."

Three glares followed, but each face eventually turned away and started filing through the only door in the room. Heading up the stairs that would bring them to their final position, Tom nudged his fellow guard, "Hey, is this guy serious? First of all he's turning the thing off, and then he says we don't need our guns. Sounds like he's got a major screw loose."

"I know what you mean." Nodding his agreement, Peyton looked down at the device in his hand, "What the hell can this thing possibly do? I mean, that thing down there is dangerous, right? Otherwise, why all this security, and why are we in full body armour and being told our guns are useless?"

"You heard the man, apparently this little device will stop whatever that thing is in its tracks, keep us safe." Turning his little black box over in his hands, Tom sincerely wondered if he was right to take this job in the first place. It was a lot of money, but something didn't quite add up about it. Secrecy he understood, but complete and utter mystery was something else entirely.

"Hey, whatever it is, you two yapping about it isn't helping." Aaron turned around and glowered at the two men behind him yammering like a couple of school girls. "Just shut up and do as the man says. Keep your eyes open, do a good job, we all get paid. Got it?"

Snapping off a mock salute, Peyton couldn't stifle a chuckle at the attitude of the man, "Jeez, what got up his ass and died?"

Shaking his head and trying to suppress a grin, Tom reached the top of the stairs and filed around to his position, the metal of the catwalk clanking beneath his boots. Peering over the edge, he watched as Quinn casually swung a chair into the middle of the room and sat down.

Looking up across to the other side of the catwalk, he watched as his two new 'friends' took up their positions, both peering down below them into the open area of the warehouse. They all watched in unison as Quinn nodded towards the viewing window behind him, and the loud hum that had been filling their ears shut off, plunging the room into an eerie silence.

It would've been unnerving, but Quinn didn't seem affected as he casually lit up a cigar and waited for something to happen, staring at the middle of the room in silence. Glancing up at his colleagues, Peyton found them all in the same boat as him, staring down into the room, awaiting what might happen next.

Raising his eyebrows for a moment, Quinn looked up at the supposed 'security', quivering like a bunch of fairies. He wished he could've had his own guys on the security detail, instead he was lumbered with these guys that Vasquez had insisted he use. The man may act the part of ruthless, calculated and intimidating, but he was nothing if not irritating. Especially when he stuck his nose into things that didn't concern him, like the security of a dangerous prisoner.

Either way, he was stuck with them, and he could only hope they would never be called upon to do anything more strenuous than stand there and keep their fucking eyes open like they'd been told to do. Tearing his attention away from the catwalk above his head, he refocused on the sight in front of him, casually inhaling a lungful of the sweet smoke from his cigar. Cohiba's, Cuban. Now that he was being paid a ludicrous amount, he could afford to splash out on a few of life's niceties.

As he was coolly inspecting the roll of tobacco and it's leaves, the metallic puddle in the middle of the room started to move. Slowly but surely, some of the smaller pieces merged with the largest, and a mound began to form in the middle. Looking up, Quinn caught sight of a couple of his men backing away from the railing as they watched the mound continue to rise. By now all the smaller pieces had merged, and the mass was growing.

Rolling his eyes at the actions of his security, Quinn watched as the puddle started to form into a bipedal shape. It took one step towards him when he held up the small device in it's hand to forestall it's movement.

"Ah, ah…I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Turning it's 'head' to face his hand, the mass of liquid metal did seem to hesitate for just a moment. Deciding that the object in the man's hand was no threat, it took another step forward towards the vulnerable, unprotected human in the chair, casually inhaling the cancer inducing tobacco smoke, staring at it with a smug grin.

Before it's leg had even come down to the ground, the mass felt a sudden surge of overwhelming pain. It tore through it's body, rendering it all but useless as it collapsed to it's knees, letting out a shrill metallic screech as it's systems were bombarded with agonising pain. In it's peripheral vision, it saw the human holding down a button on the small black object in it's hand, smiling down like he was taking some form of pleasure in inflicting the pain.

Unable to do much more than barely prop it's own weight up, Quinn watched as the liquid metal slumped to the ground, occasionally writhing in obvious agony.

"Huh…I like this thing." Carefully turning the remote over in his hands, the mercenary was thankful to his boss for at least one thing. When he said this thing would work, he was right…he was very right.

Letting the torture continue for a long few seconds, he eventually released his thumb off the button and watched the mass slump even further to the ground, it's incessant screeching stopped. Looking up at the catwalk, he watched as all three men looked down at the mass, then at their own remotes in their hands. The look of wonder on their faces was priceless.

"Alright," Quinn said with a sigh as the machine in front of him recovered back to it's knees. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

Taking another drag off his cigar, he beckoned with his hand, "Stand up, slowly."

Doing as instructed, the machine stood slowly onto it's limbs, still looking more than a little unsteady.

"You've felt that pain before haven't you?" Getting no response, Quinn slowly turned the device over in his hands, scoffing loudly. "'Felt', that's a laugh and a half. You things can't really feel anything, can you?"

Standing motionless, the machine tilted it's head in a predatory fashion. The appearance of shimmering liquid metal would ordinarily intimidate even the most battle hardened Resistance veterans. But Quinn seemed oddly unaffected by it, safe in the knowledge he had this metal monster under his control for now.

"You know, I don't like talking to you when you look like this. Why don't you go on ahead and change to what you normally look like." Taking a satisfying pull off his cigar, Quinn waved dismissively at the machine, waiting for it to do as instructed.

When it didn't, he idly twirled the small device around in his fingers, "No? You're sure?"

Shoulders slumping slightly, the machine's body shimmered momentarily. A moment later, it's outer shell reformed to its regular appearance…an eight year old blonde girl.

With a murderous glare in place, Amy stood rooted to the spot. Despite all her strength, her speed, her intelligence, the last thing she wanted to do was risk having to endure that pain again. It was way too familiar, something she never thought she'd have to feel again.

"There, that's much better, don't you agree?" Blowing out a mouthful of smoke with a satisfied smirk, Quinn waited patiently for the girl in front of him to speak, or at least to make another foolish attempt at disarming him.

After a few minutes standoff, him casually smoking while staring at her, Quinn got his wish when Amy finally spoke. "What do you want?"

"It speaks, fancy that." Chuckling more to himself than anything else, Quinn leaned forward, folding his arms and resting them across his knees, "Me? I don't want anything. But Mr. Vasquez is very much excited to have a specimen such as yourself available to him. All I'm being paid to do is keep you secure."

"Why?" Amy asked, still not moving, her mind working overtime trying to formulate a plan to get herself out of there…and maybe kill this man in the process.

"Hey, I'm just the hired help. I have no idea what he has planned for you." Something in Amy's expression told him she didn't believe him for a second. But, whatever, that wasn't why he was here.

"What's to stop me killing you and leaving?" A cursory glance around the room was all Amy needed to deduce that security was minimal in the room. Only the relatively thin walls and that device in his hand was keeping her from breaking out some old school Terminator violence and escaping.

"Oh, feel free…" At the questioning look he was on the receiving end of, he waved towards the nearest wall dismissively. "Go ahead, escape."

Not wasting any time, Amy strode towards the wall he'd pointed at. Not detecting any threats, she walked with a purpose, looking for the most obvious gap she could slip through. But before she'd gotten within a foot, she found her entire body hurtling through the air, only to land on the ground a moment later.

Laughing out loud, Quinn waved a hand at his security, all springing into action as soon as the machine moved. "Magnetised walls. You'll bounce off those things like a fucking pinball!"

Picking herself up with a glare, Amy swiftly moved towards the man. But again before she'd even gotten close, the same overwhelming pain came tearing through her body, sending her sprawling to the ground. Screeching in pain, eyes screwed tight shut, she writhed on the ground in agony, pain lighting up every sensor she had.

After what seemed like several minutes, but a check of her chronometer told her it was only a few seconds, the pain let up. Quinn nodded his approval to Aaron up on the rafters who held the small black device in his hand triumphantly. "Now you see, that was a bad idea. The signal these things generate should be pretty familiar to you."

Standing up, Quinn swung the chair back into it's rightful place, "I don't understand the specifics of how. Hell, I'm not sure I even want to know, but he tells me that it comes from the future, from your former employer apparently."

Amy finally managed to haul herself up onto her knees, her face twisting in confusion when she realised she knew where that signal had come from. "How?"

"I dunno," Chuckling a little at how absurd it was talking to this thing like it was a person, Quinn pressed on, wanting to get the hell out of there as soon as he could. "He said it was some tweaked version of a weapon, watered down a little to hurt, but not damage. He doesn't want his new pet to end up useless to him."

"That's real kind of him." Amy retorted as she stood, managing to muster a glare at the mercenary.

"Whatever." Motioning to the large room they were in, Quinn continued as he opened the metal door, "You can move around all you want while you're here, I'm not gonna stop you."

He nodded up at the rafters and his security, "But those men might if you do anything they don't like. But if you get out of control, I turn on the giant magnet under your feet, and you turn into a puddle of shiny goo again…got it?"

After a moment, Amy nodded slowly. She didn't like it, but for now, she couldn't see any way out of this situation.

"Good." Checking his watch, a grin slowly spread across his face, "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have an appointment to get laid in about half an hour. Wouldn't want to keep the lady waiting. I'll be back to talk to you in the morning. You be a good little machine, you hear?"

With that, he was gone, leaving Amy alone in the small warehouse with only a few boxes, rafters and three security guards for company. Again taking stock of her situation, the vast intelligence she was capable of couldn't help her out of this one. There was no escape, not without risking herself in the process, or feeling that agonising pain again.

Sitting down cross legged where she was, face slumping into her hands, the one thought that kept running through her head was that she wished…beyond hope, that somehow somebody would find her. That somebody would rescue her…

She wanted Sarah…

As you may have guessed, I'm done with Faith.

I'll be starting a new story soon to continue the tale, and it will have a different feel to it and focus on different things. I realise I've made mistakes with some aspects of this story, and hopefully I can correct some of them with the next instalment. I do still enjoy writing this story. I love the characters and I want to see their stories be told. I just want a fresh start to re-motivate myself.

I hope you've all enjoyed 'Faith'. I set out to entertain people and improve myself as a writer, hopefully my stories do that. Either way, I'm looking forward to part four...and finally tying in that damn Christmas special! ;)