The One With Whisky Eyes

My Mistaken Battle Cry, A Whimper

Did they hate the marked so much, they were now a part of that awful group?

Her soulmates!

The connection they shared was getting stronger each time Iris met a new identity within Kevin's body. It had come to the point that she was able to feel Barry's discomfort after realizing Iris had met the child among them. They had mentioned to her that her fear from the night she saw her father's note caused them discomfort, and the night she had experienced the vivid nightmares from her past had actually drawn Patricia in at a run.

She had no doubt they could feel her panic now.

The realization that she was not the only one affected helped to draw her back to the present a bit more, continuing to fan herself as she took deep, steadying breaths. The binder shook between her hands, but her fingers were clenched so tightly, there was no concern it would fall. Her vision steadily cleared, the fogginess receding from the edges of her sight while her laboured breathing began to normalize. Even though she had her bottle of water sitting on the desk, she didn't trust her hands to reach for it. She would probably end up wearing most of the water if she tried drinking now.

Her phone buzzed on her desk, causing an instinctual flinch, before she spotted the name.

Kevin Crumb.

The fact that they were calling using Kevin's cellphone showed the importance of the need to contact her. Otherwise, she would have gotten the alert for an email. Dropping the binder to the desktop, she scooped up her phone in both hands—one handed probably would have resulted in it hitting the floor and smashing.

"I'm alright," she assured immediately, not even bothering with a hello. She knew why they were calling. She pondered briefly in an attempt to remember who was supposed to be working. "I'm sorry, BT, did I interrupt your work?" She was sure the rough sound of her voice did nothing to assuage his concern.

"Screw work, work can wait. What happened, Doll? Felt like you were having a heart-attack." She could detect the slightest tremor in his voice. It made her heart clench, both with displeasure at her own panic episode causing them distress and because she knew she was cared for so deeply by someone—by many.

Leaning back in her chair, she used her shoulder to better support the phone as she tucked her ice-cold fingers between her thighs in an attempt to warm them. "I got a call. Jessica handed me the phone, I didn't even really register the private contact information before I answered it. The man said he worked for 'Mark Sans' and had a message from Howard. I hung up before he could continue."

BT swore on the other line. "Mark Sans, that's a name that group of psychos use, right?"

"Yes. And my father's name is Howard Mayfair."

"Iris," BT sighed, worry dripping from that one word. "Doll, you gotta call the cops. What's the name a' that guy who did your statement?"

"Montez," she answered quietly. The adrenaline was bleeding out of her system and leaving her body feeling like lead. "Officer Montez. He gave Barry his card, I don't think I have it-"

BT grunted. "One sec," he murmured, before shuffling came through the phone like static. "It's in our wallet." Much like the cellphone, it did not make much sense to have a different wallet for every alter—the cards for the bank account, ID and other important pieces of information were kept in one simple wallet. How it was carried varied person to person, but it made their lives easier when the credit cards or work ID weren't switching to a new wallet every day. "You got a pen?"

Iris looked to her desk. She had a pen and a stack of post-it notes. However, the tremor was still running down her arms; she doubted her hands would be any better if they were removed from where she was pinning them. "Yea, but I think I'm shaking too much right now. Give me another minute?"