"There's something wrong," Marty told Jared as headed towards Port Charles, New York, with his brother, Gilbert. "Something wrong with this whole affair."

"I have that same feeling," Jared nodded. "We have so many pieces of this puzzle, and some of them make no sense in the context of the overall picture. At least what little that we can see now. Somebody, apparently Faison and Helena Cassadine, have tried to eliminate some of their oldest foes, but we don't know why, for certain."

"That's part of it," Marty nodded. "But this isn't fitting together very well. We know that there's a strange formula that Tom Hardy was subjected to, and that it was apparently developed by Matthews' Medical Research. We've know that, and thanks to Connor, we'll be able to access whatever quantities of it are needed. For all intents and purposes, while it is still theoretically a threat, and you can say that about any number of illegal or legal substances in the wrong hands, we have that under control."

"I don't understand what it is that they think is so special about NETCo-what makes them think that their computers are so special. And, it's not as if what was going to be sent to those third world countries was so outrageously powerful. We saw what they were shipping-no big deal. Illegal, yes, but not earthshaking. WIN has access to so much more than this. It's small potatoes, when you come to think about it."

"But enough to bring this to our notice, and draw us into its web."

"Maybe that was the whole purpose," Gil injected, thoughtfully. "Maybe this has all just been bait."

"Look," Jared said, "I'll be the first to mention that Faison has found it difficult to do business since I've been on his trail..."

"But we have yet to figure out what he's up to," Marty grumbled. "I keep getting the feeling that he's clearing the way for something, or someone...."

"Lucky," Nikolas asked, turning to his brother. "You ever wonder what you're here for? I mean, for my entire life, I was brought up to believe that I was The Cassadine, that I'd be the head of a powerful family, that my life would make a difference on a world scale. Now, I find that it's all been one big cosmic joke, that I'm really just an average guy who got a better than average education in most everything, and an excellent one in snobbery."

"Go figure," Lucky answered. "For my whole life, I was brought up to believe that the Cassadines were out to get us, and if not them, then somebody else would try. And, for the most part, Dad was right. We've been chased around the world by any number of thugs, shot at, nearly blown up, kidnapped, and now held hostage by the Cassadines and some little short dude with a bad haircut. I've gotta tell you, man. This isn't my idea of the best way to spend my summer."

"Nor mine."

As they were talking, the door was opened, and a young man was thrust into the room, and the door immediately locked behind him.

"He's not a Spencer," Lucky told Nik. "You know him?"

"Never seen him before. He's not a Cassadine, either."

"I'm a Castle," P.J. told them, turning and kicking the door. "P.J. Castle. Where am I and what the hell am I doing here?"

Lucky and Nik exchanged understanding glances. "You're with us, and that's about all we can tell you. Did you see anything on your way in?"

"Just the guys who grabbed me, an older woman with a little girl, and some strange little guy..."

Helena rose in the darkness, and once again, took the tiny iron key from the carefully concealed compartment in the huge black onyx ring that she never removed. Creeping into her dressing room, she closed the door, and only after locking the door behind herself, did she turn on the light. She turned to the tall, teak armoire that stood to one side, and turned a knob on its front. Then, the carved gargoyle atop the piece of antique furniture opened its mouth and disgorged a small iron box which Helena took down, clutching it as if it were the Romanov jewels themselves. Sitting down at her dressing table, her hands shaking with excitement, she inserted the key, and carefully turned it. Helena reached into the box, and with the greatest of care, took out the papers which held secrets that only she knew about, secrets that only she dared acknowledge. Unfolding them, she whispered as she read in English the words that were written in Russian by the hand of the man she'd long ago learned was her true grandfather. "If I am killed by common assassins, and especially by my brothers the Russian peasants, you........have nothing to fear........But if I am murdered by Boyars, and if they shed my blood......Brothers will kill brothers, and they will kill each other and....there will be no nobles in the country."

"You knew, didn't you, Grandfather? You knew what they would do to you, and what would happen to them. You tried to warn them, but in the end, they killed you anyway." Unfolding another piece of paper, Helena read what had been printed nearly almost 90 years earlier, a confession made by her grandmother on the night of her death. Her daughter had written it down with a shaking hand, but it was signed by the woman whose deathbed confession was never forgiven by any priest. "I hereby swear that the father of my oldest daughter isn't my husband, but is Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin. He promised that through this child, this line, would come the salvation of our family, and of our country. He also made me swear not to reveal that my youngest daughter, known to us as Anna, is in reality Anastasia, Grand Duchess of Russia, until she was safe, but I am passing on these secrets now, as I am dying and they are yours to protect." The note was signed by her grandmother, and Helena clutched the papers tightly in her hand. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "The time is almost right, Grandfather and Grandmother. The truth was lost for a while, and Anastasia's son was gone from us for a while, but we found him, found his only daughter, and now, we have her children. The prophecy will be fulfilled in this generation, this I swear. The Cassadine, great grandson of Rasputin and Czar Nicholas II, and heir to all that the Cassadine name means and holds, will soon take his rightful place in the world."

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