Jameson pulled up in front of the black Tahoe, blocking the alley to make sure the vehicle couldn't escape, then he and Henkel stepped out of their car and approached the man in the truck.

"Mr. Shepherd? FBI." Shouted Henkel. "We'd like to have a few words with you. Could you please step out of the vehicle." He asked as he held up his badge.

Tim heard the FBI agent idnetify himself and immediately recognized his face, as the agent in the tunnel in New York. He then saw Frank's arm move to the center of the cab and then he stepped out of Tahoe. Tim thought *Shit we gotta get out of here and quick* he then stayed crouched and moved back into the grocery store stockroom. Once inside, Tim stood up, slipped his weapons back into his shoulder holsters.

Henkel waited for the man to walk around to the front of the vehicle and Jameson was in position at the side of the Tahoe before he engaged him. "Mr. Frank Shepherd, I'm Special Agent Henkel and this is my partner, Special Agent Jameson. May I see your identification." He requested and while awaiting the document he continued, "We recovered a wrecked vehicle in your name just north of Catskill off of US Route 9W. It appeared to have skidded off the road and turned over a few times, we also found several rounds from gun fire embedded in the body. What can you tell us about that, Mr. Shepherd?"

Tim reached in his back pocket and took several folded bills. He unfolded them, pealed off a fifty dollar bill and handed hit to the stockboy. "Thank ya fur yur hep son, I'll see ta it she gits medical attention. Now ifin' that thar man comes back 'round har ya lay low and git the sheriff ta hep ya. The FBI is a talkin' ta him right now. Ya take care now son and watch yur back. Ya be shur and tell the Sheriff and them FBI agents what ya seen 'im do ta Morgan. Now ya go on an call tha Sheriff."

Tim then walked out of the storeroom and out to the Hummer. Glancing quickly towards the alley, he could see that one of the FBI agents was blocking Frank's view of the Hummer. Tim climbed in, shut the door and bulckled his seat belt. Starting the Hummer, Tim looked at Morgan. "Ya alright thar sweetheart? Ya jus' buckle up an' sit back wilst I git us the hell outa Tombstone. He leaned over and gave Morgan a kiss, headed north on US 4 outa Troy, as they reached the edge of Troy, they could hear the wail of sirens and a Rensselaerd County Sheriff vehicle sped past them headed for the grocery store. Tim then turned left onto NY7 and sped up headed for Hoosick Falls and the Vermont state line.

Grey curled into himself as the Boss's foot plowed into his stomach for the umpteenth time. Gasping and coughing, he rolled into a fetal position and groaned softly, as each impact seemed to ripple out through his entire body.

"I ask you to do one little thing and you show up telling me you got too f#*&ed up and lost him?!" In spite of himself, Grey out another pained grunt as the heel of Boss's boot slammed hard into the back of his head. Another punch slammed his face against the floor before he felt the man's sausage-like fingers dig into the roots of his loosely curly hair and pull his head up. Gasping, Grey squinted into the large man's eyes, gritting his teeth in pain. "Get your ass outta here and bring me this Wrangler freak, or you become RAID's problem. Got it?" If Grey was capable of replying, his boss didn't wait to find out. Thrusting his head down, he let Grey's forehead slam against the ground before he gave him a few more kicks in the side and stomach for good measure before he dropped something light on top of him before he and his lackeys strolled out of the office, slamming the door and leaving Grey to roll over in his own agony.

After a moment, he spat a few flecks of blood on the dirty floor and very slowly sat up. His muscles jerked painfully and he shouted "DICK!" before his eyes fell on the tattered newspaper the boss had apparently thrown at him on his way out. Stretching out painfully, he opened up the paper and squinted through the pounding in his head and his bruised face at the picture on the front. It would take another moment for his vision to clear and make out the words on the page. So this redneck-looking guy was the Wrangler. At least now he had a picture to go on.

Getting slowly to his feet, Grey took the newspaper with him as he uncontrollably muttered "redneck. Freak." Swinging the door open, he squinted in the harsh sunlight and made his way back to his apartment, limping slightly as his entire body throbbed. He had little patience to read the entire article word for word, but he managed to scan it enough to catch that he had been sighted up near Troy.

"Great..." Grey grumbled, letting his head drop, the paper dangling from his limp hand as he entered his apartment. Cursing his boss under his breath, he dropped the paper on the living room floor and collapsed on his couch. "F#$& this shit," he snarled to himself as he popped a few vicodin and leaned back, wincing a few times before he managed to relax and shut his eyes. Tomorrow. He'd go after this freak tomorrow.

Frank's explanation held about as much water as a thimble and Henkel had a feeling this guy was trouble. Call it extinct or perhaps just common sense, since Henkel knew that bear encounters in the state of New York were rare at the best of times.

Catching a subtle cue from his partner, Jameson slowly reached into his jacket and unclipped the snap on his holster, letting his hand hover over his sidearm.

Henkel was a big man, well trained in self defense and didn't feel it necessary at this point to draw his weapon but he did sense that this man could get hostile in a hurry so he was on guard. "Did this bear happen to shoot .40 caliber rounds into your vehicle as well, Mr. Shepherd?" Queried the Agent, "We also found shells from a .45 caliber pistol in the cab of your truck. Do you own a gun, Mr. Shepherd?"

Jameson sensing that the situation was becoming more intense drew his pistol and clicked off the safety, keeping the weapon in a ready position in case the suspect tried to make a break for it.

When Jameson heard the police sirens, he assumed somebody must have called the cops on them, but as he looked to the nearby door through which the local cops might enter the alley he caught sight of the blood. Outside of the back door of the grocery store, only ten feet away he spotted a blood trail. "We've got blood, Simon." He alerted his partner as he raised his weapon at Frank.

Henkel immediately followed suit, drew his side arm and aimed it at Frank Shepherd. "On the ground now!" he commanded.

In a darkened office Colonel Petrovsky sat alone, illuminated by the glow of a large flat screen monitor while watching the latest news on CNN.COM. He studied the events that were worthy of being revealed to an audience of sheep and laughed at how quickly the world could turn. He had her! He had Killswitch within his grasp and had allowed his sentimentality for a woman steal away his opportunity to change the planet. Touching his scarred face he bowed his head in shame for believing that she would have seen anything but a monster and clenching his fist in anger the monitor suddenly went black. Vaciliy did not move but remained he was, allowing himself to fade into the shadows, that place that one day he would never return from.



Toril had hoped Cassius would have been able to come up with an escape plan off the top of his head, but when the kid seemed to draw a blank he knew that it would be best if they kept moving. Leaving, Yelena with Cassius, Toril crept up to the only door beyond the barred gateway and tried his key card. The door's lock set off a green light and the old super-hero poked his head out to check if there were any more guards. On the other side of the door was only a hallway running, what Toril could tell would be north to south.

Returning to Cassius he relieved him of Yelena, carried her through the doorway and then they headed northward into the unknown.

"I have no idea where this goes." Toril admitted to Cassius, "I hope we don't run into any more marines."

They walked until they came to a fork; one passage went right the other left, so by a simple deduction, Toril chose to go left, toward a door that read 'Sector 6'.

"Remember don't fire that gun unless it's absolutely necessary." Toril warned Cassius, "We have to remain as silent as possible."

Tim glanced in the rearview mirrors, then over at Morgan .... "Nope this ain't, I can't risk tha safety of tha safe house, right now. Were headed ta Vermont. I wanna draw anybody on our trail away from Zoe and Sean. We'll circle round and come in tha back way, afta' we get you fixed up an' loose any hound dawgs on ar asses." Tim said then added with a smile. "Now I don' wanna hear none of that I'm sarry shit or I'm too much of a burden crap. This har is just SOP. I am jus follain' my trainin' sweetheart. I think tha first aide kit is still in the back, Why don' ya get them cuts cleaned up an' poar some of that peroxicide on tha thar bullet graze." Tim reached over and patted Morgan on the thigh as the Hummer sped north east on NY7. Tim reached up and turned on the police scanner, police radio and the red and blue flashing grill and rear lights. As they crossed the New York / Vermont sate line, Tim pressed a button on the console. The license plate electronically changed to a Vermont State Police Vehicle Number "230"

"Frank Shepherd. We are placing you under arrest for your suspected involvement with a wanted felon. Please place your arms behind your back and remain facing the ground." Ordered Henkel.



While Special Agents Henkel and Jameson dealt with Frank Shepherd five black Suburban SUV's sped out of town on New York Route 7 in pursuit of Tim's Hummer. They were too far behind, for the ex-cop to see them but the RAID agents were on his tail, following his every move. In the second vehicle and familiar man sat in the passenger seat.



"Special Agent Birkshire, satellite imagery is coming in crystal clear. We have the Hummer in our sites." Announced a RAID enforcer from the back of the vehicle which was set up like a mini-surveillance room, with seats running down the middle of the specially designed area.



Blake Birkshire pulled his eyes off of the file he was reviewing on the 'Wrangler'. "Good work." he said, "Keep us apprised of his position, enforcer." He then returned to studying the FBI case file and compared it to another RAID file, titled, 'Cowboy'. "We have to get this one." He stated to all within vehicle.