Frank headed for Armour Park, his 'angels' telling him that that was where Morgan was. It didn't take him long to find the park and he parked the SUV and non-chalantly walked into the park, nodding and smiling at people as he passed by them.

Finally, the 'angels' hummed loudly inside of his head as he neared a small grove trees. She was in there, he knew it.

Walking quietly now, he circled around, spottin her sitting at a picnic table. Coming up from behind her, laid his hand on her shoulder as he projected his mind into hers, keeping her quiet and calm. It was a struggle for her mind was strong but because he'd surprised her, he was able to make contact and take control, for how long he wasn't sure as she was a demon, so he worked quickly, guiding her back to the SUV. Once he had her inside, he took the piece of rope he already had inside the vehicle and tied her hands in front of her, making sure that noone saw what he was doing. Blood was beginning to drip from his nose and ears, his head beginning to pound.

Climbing into the driver's seat, he pulled out of the park, still retaining control, with the 'angels' help of course, keeping Morgan quiet and calm. Within 20 minutes, he was back at the abdandoned warehouse, hiding the SUV inside after unlocking the front lock. He then pulled Morgan out and guided her over to the cage. Untying the ropes binding her hands, he threw her into the cage, slamming the door shut before locking it with one of the padlocks. Then he released her from his mental control.

He laughed at her when she blinked her eyes, confused, then her eyes widened when she heard his laugh, fear shining brightly in her lavender eyes.

"Hello Morgan. Nice of you to join me. Do you like what I've done to accomodate you?"

Morgan said nothing, just looked around her, seeing that she was a 6x6 foot dog cage with a top to it, so that she couldn't climb out. He'd even bolted the bottom down so that she couldn't lift it and go under. She was trapped and at his mercy.

"Now, where is 'cowboy'? Why aren't you with him or he with you? Weren't you slutty enough for him?"

Morgan turns her gaze towards her father, fear no longer showing in her eyes.

"I left him, Daddy. He just wasn't my type."

Frank tsked at her, heading for the door.

"Well, that's too bad, but it makes no difference. I will leave you to your thoughts, Morgan. When I return, we will begin the redemption of your soul."

As he walked by a sheet covered table, he tossed the sheet off of it. Laying on the table was the board with the nails in it, the rope, carving knife, and pistol. The pistol he picked up and tucked into the ankle holster he had under his pants. He knew that she could see what was on the table and chuckled.

"These are just the beginning, demon."

His manical laughter sent chills up and down her spine as he walked out of the building, locking the door behind him. He went to a seedy motel down a few buildings, getting himself a room. He would sleep for a few hours, then go back around midnight and begin trying to save her soul before sending her to her maker.

Russel Goodleaf, the ex-superhero once known as Totem was awoken from his slumber by the sound of voices. He reluctantly rolled over to check the time, the glowing red digital clock on the bed side table read, 1:30am. "Don't these people ever sleep?", he wondered. He was curled up in one of the bottom bunks in the community sleeping area, a large room set up with bunk beds and foot lockers where visitors could stash their possessions. Yawning he lay back, pondering whether he should go see what all the commotion was about, but his thought quickly became dreams once more and the Haida man drifted back off to sleep.



Slate pulled is blue Cordoba up in front of the corner store and parked in the two hour zone. He stepped out of the car, pulling up his collar and squinting up at the darkening sky as he crossed over the street and headed round the next block. Joanne Keys, otherwise known as Silicone Surfer had lived in a five story apartment block in Bridgeport and Sigma had found his way into the shadowy alley behind it. He stared at the ladder of a rusted fire escape that hung fifteen feet above the ground then took a thorough scan of the windows and down the lane to make sure there were no on lookers, but one never could tell, especially during the day. Sigma, then moved with surprising speed, launching himself to the top of near by dumpster then in one smooth transition leaping high into the air catching the bottom rung with his foot while grasping hold of the ladder. The man then moved quickly, scampering up the fire escape to the fourth floor where he leaned down in front of the emergency exit, pulled some lock picks out of his pocket and deftly opened the padlock that was securing a chain around the door handle. Quietly slinking into the building, Slate found himself in the stairwell, just opposite the door to the fourth floor.

Slate didn't know why, but he found Bridgeport familiar. He still had little recollection of his past, but he believed that it was probably due to the fact that the neighbourhood was once predominantly Irish-American and had long suspected that was most likely his ancestry. Maybe he would try reading some gaelic later.

It wasn't hard to figure out which apartment had belonged to Silicone, room 406, at the end of the hall was still cordoned off with 'police line ribbons'. There was a rent notice on the door as well, as if the cops were going to pick up the tab for downed meta, "What a freakin asshole the land lord was.", thought Sigma as he picked lock and ducked cut through the plastic barrier.

The apartment looked just how he would have imagined it. Everything was well ordered yet drab, just like her room back at Green Street, everything painted and coloured in shades of grey. Only five minutes had elapsed and already Slate wanted to run out of the apartment screaming it was so depressing. How a woman with such a boisterously loud laugh would live in such a place was as much of a puzzle as the murder scene. There were scorch trails all over the living room and one long one that ran across the couch and partially onto the plasma t.v. screen. Sure enough he found the body outline in the kitchen where it appeared that she had fallen after being shot and had struck her head against the table. A large pool of dried blood had remained where her head had lied.

Sigma alerted by a faint noise behind him, whirled around his nickel plated 9mm M9 Beretta drawn before the tail of his coat had whipped behind him. The grey tabby, tensed and hissed then recognizing the man pawed at the gun. "Hey, Micro, thought they might have gotten you too." he said to the cat, then he resumed his investigation.

The apartment had already been picked over by police who had conducted a follow up investigation after RAID bagged their meta-human, but Slate did find something at the scene that he had found very interesting. On a scribble pad beside her phone, Silicone had been drawing the same picture over and over again. Sigma had often noticed that she doodled while in thought or on the phone, and the last thing she had been subconsciously sketching was a what appeared to be a pole with wings, at least that's all he could make out. Silicone was all left brain and had no artistic talent whatsoever so whatever she was attempting to draw wouldn't look anything like it was supposed to. He took the pad of paper thinking that somebody else might be able to understand it.

There was also something else that puzzled him and that was the amount of plasma scorches, enough to infer that there was a fire fight, but between whom? He found bullet holes in the wall that matched with the report of Silicone firing six rounds at the enforcers before they fried her which meant that she was not returning plasma fire. Something stank, and it wasn't Micro Chip's litter box. He would relay this information to Kekoa and the others and see what they thought and maybe together they could come up with some alternate theories.

Sigma, casually looked through the cupboards, sorting through boxes with his black gloved hands until he found the cat food. He then picked up the big grey tabby cat under an arm as he made his way out the door and down the stairwell. It was raining by the time, Slate hit the street and so he tucked Micro Chip into his coat and jogged to his car. Once inside he placed the cat on the seat next to him and stroked his whiskers playfully. "Don't worry. I'll take you back to the safe house. Silicone always said you liked it better there." he told him, then fired up the engine and pulled out onto the wet street.

After Yelena had introduced Tim, to the young asian man Tim said "Howdy pardnar." he extended his hand and shook the young man's hand. He then said to Yelena "Ya'al go ahead , I'll catch up ..... wanna get them vehicles secured. He set his bags, the 30-30 rifle and the sawed off shotgun down by the door and then walked back to the vehicles. He checked the Armoured vehicle and the Hummer for oil and filled them with fuel, he then checked Yelena's bike and filled it with fuel. After setting the alarms on the vehicles. When he reached the locked door, he knocked on it, the young asian man opened it again and motioned down the hall. "Thank ya thar pardnar." Tim said and walked down the hall.

While Tim went to check on the vehicles Yelena walked into the room Russel was in. Muttering a soft apology, she quickly found an unoccupied bunk on the opposite side of the room and decided to get some rest. The day at the motel hadn’t been exactly restful. With each car door slam and sound of voices outside, she and Tim had been up and peeking out the windows. Now that she was among others like her and in a safe house, she felt the weariness of her trip suddenly fall on her like a ton of bricks. In no time, she was sound asleep.

By 9 the same morning Yelena was back up and looking more rested than she had in a long time. The sleep she was able to get after arriving at the safe house had done her a world of good. After familiarizing herself with the place, she got a shower and rejoined the others that were now starting to show signs of life once more.

Giving Ayana a smile, she thanked the young woman again for her assistance the night before and when Kekoa came into the kitchen, she thanked him again as well. While she didn’t know these people, just knowing they were meta like her set her mind a little more at ease.

When Russel came into the kitchen as well, Ayana introduced him to the shape shifter and after hearing he was looking for Morgan, Yelena blinked.

”Morgan was with us until couple of days ago. She left saying she had to find father and take care of him once and for all. I tried to talk her out of it. She is young and head strong, though. I worry about her. She still has much to learn and is still very naïve. I not hear from her since then. I hope she will contact me again.”

When Tim entered the kitchen now Yelena looked over at him and nodded.

”Tim knows more about her than I do. Perhaps he help you.”

Yelena introduced Russel to Tim and explained how Russel was looking for Morgan.

As Tim and Russel talked about Morgan, Yelena went to find Shawn knowing the young man was way out of his element in the strange new place. Finding him sitting on the edge of a bunk he decided to take shortly after they arrived, Yelena saw he remembered his way to the bathroom and had taken a shower. Sitting down beside him on the bed, she took his communicator and typed out a message for him to read.

--Hungry? I fix breakfast for you then take you around house again to learn where things are. Yes?--

Allie rose the next morning, heading for the Green Street safehouse to greet the new comers. She also needed to find out if there was anything extra that was needed. Pulling her mustand into the underground parking facility, she admired the hummer and repainted armor vehicle. Whoever did the job did a good one. She was impressed.

Heading up the stairs, she stepped into the kitchen, seeing Russell and some other man looking at the picture of Morgan and talking. She stands in front of them, clears her throat to get their attention and introduces herself to the stranger.

"Hi, I'm Allie Jameson. If there's anything you or your group needs, just let me know or let Ayana know and we'll get it for you."

As Tim shook her hand and introduced himself, he felt the heat coming from Allie's hand. She smiled at him, apologizing.

"Sorry, I get a little nervous when meeting new people and tend to heat up a little."

She turns to Russell, asking if he's had any luck finding Morgan when he fills her in on what Yelena had told him about her going after her psychotic father. Allie thinks for a minute, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"Do you have her aunt's number, she was the one who had you come looking for her. Maybe she could give you some more input or see something that would help. Other than that, I don't know what to tell you except that we will all help you find her."

Giving both men a 'see ya later' she headed upstairs where she found Yelena sitting on a bed next to a young man.

"Hi, I'm Allie Jameson."

Allie watched as Yelena typed something into a small box hanging around the boy's neck while introducing herself and Shawn, explaining that Shawn was blind and deaf and a meta. Allie was surprised by this, but accepted it nonetheless.

"Well, I'm just letting everyone know that if you need anything, anything at all, let me or Ayana know and we'll get it for you. Now, do you have any idea where this Zoe is? I'd like to meet her as well and see if there is anything electronic that she is going to need."

Morgan was terrified but proud of herself for not letting her father see it. This was not going as she had planned, but she would survive, somehow.

Sitting down on the cold floor, she opened her senses to what animals were around her, sensing rats, a few stray dogs, pigeons, a few cats, and some mice. Looking around, she took in her surroudnings, what she could see, her eyes resting on the table holding the rope, knives, and board with the 2 inche long nails pounded through it, a full inch of the nails sticking through on the other side. She shivered, thinking about what Frank was going to do with that.

She didn't know how long she had before he returned, so she laid down, getting as comfortable as she could and tried to rest, knowing she'd need her strength for what was coming.

Russel put down his toast and dusted the crumbs off his hand on to the plate as he stood up to greet the perky, dark haired woman. As was customary by most natives he didn't make a lot of eye contact and turned away from the city girl's invasive, anxious stare. "Good to meet you, Allie. Call me Totem." he told her, using his alias since he wasn't really sure he wanted these people knowing his real name, yet. The Bronze Devil had spoke of another resistance group in the city called, Umbra and no one could be sure just how far their network spread so he decided to stay on the down low until he got to know them better.

Totem shook his head when Allie asked if he had the phone number for Jackie Runningwolf. He lied of course, but he just didn't trust types like her. Corporate types spreading their money over everything, every red cent inscribed with their initials. He responded with a slight nod to her, 'see ya later', and resumed his conversation with Cowboy. He liked the man immensely, a no-nonsense, cut the bull-shit kind of guy that Totem knew he could trust.

"No offense, man. I didn't know she was your girl." Totem had begun when the topic of Morgan came up, "Her aunt had some sorta premonition about her, that she was in danger, and I never told anyone about this but the one that her aunt was worried about was her own father. Seems everyone around here knows that, even that one, Jameson." he said while thumbing to the direction she had flitted off to.

The Haida man took a sip of his coffee and gave Tim the photo of Morgan, taken before she ran away that depicted a much younger, fresh faced girl. "You can keep that. I won't be needing it. Seems she has some good people in her lives. That's important." he said, sharing his simple philosophy with the Texan, then he reached out and shook his hand once more, "The name's actually, Russel." he whispered, "I'm glad to meet you. I'd just rather use Totem." His eyes quickly scanned the faces of the strangers in the room, "I don't know these people. I don't know you, but you seem an honest man and you know how to dress." Russel kicked out a leg and let the heel of his western style boot hit the floor, then he smiled broadly at Tim.

"So you guys are from New York." Stated Totem, "I'm originally from, B.C., up in Canada. My people are the Haida, but the bastards tried to turn in me into RAID for a lousy reward. Can you believe that? My own people." revealed Totem with a bit of a laugh, "I live in Oregon now, but Chicago here, seems interesting. I like seeing the costumes again, although I imagine you're not much one for a mask, are you?" Russel assumed, his eyes narrowing on Tim.

"So what are your plans?" Asked Russel, "If you need help finding your girl, I'll ride along with you, just don't go calling me Tonto, it's Totem." He told him while putting on a serious face, then it widened once more into a warm broad smile.

Shawn's immediate response was to turn down Yelena's help, but as his hands raised to say just that, his intellect kicked in and the memories of the twists and turns came back to him. He visibly sank as he considered this before sighing and nodding in response. Before he could stand up, however, he felt a faint warmth enter the room and the vibration of Yelena talking to someone. Reading the device, Shawn learned that she was called Allie Jameson and essentially just checking in on them. The metas were coming out of the woodwork and all of them seemed to be bending over backwards for them. He'd had no idea that anyone out there even supported metas let alone that there were underground resistances building among a hidden meta community. Still, when he considered it, it made perfect sense and as he found himself up to his eyeballs in the movement, he could barely imagine what he would have done if he'd just stumbled upon this on his own.

At the same time, he still couldn't be sure if he'd fit in. He was certainly not the superhero type and a lot of these people: Yelena, Morgan, Toril, seemed very much the do-gooder type and that was just not Shawn's style. Shawn was in everything for himself, keeping his life interesting and, now, keeping his ass out of RAID's or Beacon's prisons as he continued to develop his powers. For now at least, as part of that goal, he'd need to do what he hated most: Accept help... frequently.

When Allie left and the temperature dropped just slightly. Shawn got to his feet and moved a head of Yelena until he got to the door. Standing relatively straight, even with his head slightly dropped, Shawn held out his hands and felt his way into the hallway, moving away from the bathroom and making it as clear as he could that he wanted only minimal help.
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As Allie continued through the halls, she would nearly walk straight into Kekoa as he drifted around a corner. Despite her sour response to him, he smiled almost naively.

"I heard you're looking for Zoe?" he said, "she's in the basement. I was headed there. Shall I act a guide?"

Tim shook the Native American's hand firmly "Right pleasure ta meet ya Totem, names Tim Rutherford, but the call me "Cowboy"., some call me worse than that." He said with a grin "Was borned in New York but after this RIGGS shit, I moved ta Texas, was an undercover cop fur the Dallas PD until ... well fur a while. Then moved ta my ranch in Arnett, Teexas. Mosied up ta New York fur a friend's burryin' when all hell broke loose. Been on the run ever since. Me an Yelena har we goes way back. .... Na ain't much fur that shit. I like fur the bad guys ta see whose gonna take em down. Ain't nothin' like a cold hard stare 'for ya send em ta hell." .....Tim stopped for a moment and thought. "Fur as Morgan goes, that be one head strong, mule headed, reckless young woman.......I ain't sure ya can call her my girl, aftur she took off the way she did. Don't be gittin me wrong, I like her right enough but damn she kin be more contankurus than a team of Mizzur mules. She's damn near the most stubborn woman I ever met."

"I'd be right proud ifin' wanted ta ride along with me Totem. Anybody that wares a pair a boots like that ain't bad in my book. An' I sees yur parcial to a yur coffe without frillin' it all up. Ain't nuttin' like a good cup of straight black range coffee."

"Na I ain't much fur the mask thang ....... I likes fur the bad guys ta see my eyes fur I send em ta hell. Like fur em ta know whose takin em out. Ain't nuthin like a cold hard stare. I ain't got a plan yet, figured I'd just wait an see ifin' she shows up taday ........ lessin' somebody comes up with a better one. I reckon I might take a look see around, get a lay of the land ifin' ya knowed what I mean? Yur welcome ta tag along ifin' ya gots a hankerin' ...... Just don't start callin me keemo sabe." Tim said with a broad grin.

Allie shook her head at Kekoa. Damn, if the man wasn't good looking, but she wasn't about ready to let him know that she thought that. She really did like him, but she wasn't use to his care-free attitude.

She followed him quietly, admiring his rear end with an appreciative gaze. Once they reached the basement, he opened the door for her, waggling his eyebrows at her. She couldn't stop the blush that heated her face, turning her eyes darker as she stormed past him.

Seeing Zoe sitting at a table littered with electronics, she approached the serious faced woman.

"You must be Zoe, I'm Allie Jameson. I just wanted to let you know that if there's anything you need let me or Ayana know and funds will be made available to you. We want you to be as comfortable as you can be here."

Allie smiled at the woman, instinctively knowing that she wouldn't get one in return. Turning, she looked at Kekoa, rolling her eyes at his lop sided grin.

As Totem smiled his dark grey eyes twinkled. He pondered the word which he knew was taken from the Tewa people in Arizona, which roughly translated to 'friend' or 'blood brother', the natives really didn't distinguish between the two. "Kemosabe." he said aloud, trying the word out and pondering whether this man was befitting of such a title. "You see the training room?" he said changing the subject, "There's even a shooting range for a couple of shooters. Not really my thing though... well, not anymore."

Totem got up and put his dishes in the dishwasher but retained his coffee cup which he refilled then walked over to Tim with the pot and topped off his mug. "There's a work room, with all sorts of crafting tools over there." he said motioning with his bottom lip to the eastern hallway. "Just down there, to the left then a quick right. All sorts of tools. I'm a woodworker myself. You?"

Totem placed the coffee pot back on the burner, leaned against the counter and sipped away at his third cup that morning.

"Thank ya Totem." Tim said as Russell filled his cup. "Ain't much ofa woodwurker, can fix what needs fixin', wittil' a tad ta pass the time. Firin' range ya say? ..... Smart ta keep yur aim up in ar line a work. ....... some folk jus won't lisin' ta reason ya know. ....... An them damned bleedin' heart judges an lawyers ain't never read the 'Eye fur and eye' part of the Bible I reckon. 'Stead they wanna tell ya how these crimmnal maniacs are damaged cause thar daddy didn't buy um a shiney new bike every Christmas..... their daddy didnm' gave em a swat on the ass with the palm of his hand when they daserved it or mamma sent them ta be without supper fur throwin' thar smashed tadders at lil' sistur. ...... A lit'l Texas justis' do a whole mess betar thun layin of some head doc's couch." ....... Tim then sat quietly drinking his coffee listening to the others talk.

The Meta-human resistance fighters from Troy, New York had at last arrived at what would be their new home for a while. The crafty old super-hero, Wraith had left a trail for his new companions to follow and with local RAID enforcers, the FBI and Beacon breathing down their necks it was a unanimous decision for a change of scenery and perhaps a little well earned rest and relaxation. Chicago was, however, already proving to be anything but leisurely and for some down right terrifying.

Frank Shepherd has finally caught up with his daughter, and Morgan who had left for Chicago ahead of the others won't be missed for another day when she had promised to call in check in with Yelena. Frank, now known as the Hunter, a special RAID operative working for Supervising Agent Birkshire plans on exorcising the demons from his daughter in his own manner. Will Morgan survive twelve hours alone with her maniacal Father?

The arrival of the Troy resistance group coincides with the death of the Green Street Base's controller. Silicone Surfer, who they all know now to be Joanne Keys, a Bridgeport resident, was believed to been killed when she opened fire on the RAID enforcers that raided her home. Sigma Slayer, who had taken it upon himself to investigate her murder isn't convinced that Silicone would reacted to armed enforcers as was reported and found some contradicting facts that he intends to share with the rest of the resistance.

A group of villains have also just escaped from a Meta-Detention Centre, accomplishing what was thought to be impossible due to the assistance of an exceptional hacker. Is there a connection between the death of Silicone Surfer and the recent break-out?




Grey remembered seeing the blurry image of man, and the movements of the car sending sharp pains through his body with every bump and turn. "You're going to be fine, man." the driver's voice boomed in his ears as he pushed a pill into his mouth which Grey instinctively swallowed then all went dark once more. The next thing he remembered were the pulsing flashes of street lights on the backs of his eyelids, and the voice announcing, "We're hear, man. Take it easy."

Grey woke up, slivers of sunlight shining through the black out blinds, illuminating the green carpet of the motel room. He tried to rise and was gently pushed back down by a hand with black finger nails. A familiar face then came into view, "Hey, Grey." Greeted a young man with multi-coloured hair, multiple body piercings, wearing a black leather suit of a gothic nature.

Grey recognized the young man as Scavenger, I guy he used to run with a while back. A good guy to keep at your side, because he'd most likely stick you in the back if given the chance. Oddly enough, however, he apparently saved Pyre's life. His ribs had been bandaged and wounds redressed and Grey could tell that Scav had been feeding him pain killers, since he felt like he could run a marathon.

"You're probably hungry." Mentioned the gothic punk as he put on a long black leather trench coat and started to the door, "There's a Subway not too far away, I'll pick you up a twelve inch, and when I get back I'll fill you in on the details. Don't go anywhere." he said while making what might be perceived as a smile forming on his sullen face. His voice was effeminate at times, and his mannerisms languid. Smoothly the man, that Grey also knew as Stefan Rook, glided to the door and disappeared into the brightness of day.

Yelena let Shawn lead the way and only when he got to a point where he clearly couldn’t find his way out, she offered assistance then. After a quick breakfast, they duo were off once more learning the ins and outs of the house. Making sure she gave the young man his space so he could navigate his way through the new safe house, Yelena familiarized herself with it as well. It was important to her to make sure she got to know the safe house like the back of her hand. It could mean the difference between life and death one day.

Seeing Russel and Tim strike up a conversation with each other as she and Shaw ate breakfast, she was glad to see the Texan make some sort of connection with the Haida. There seemed to be more in common between the two than they both realized at first. Of course the main thing they had in common was Morgan.

A few hours later, Shawn was fairly comfortable he could navigate through the corridors of the safe house without any further assistance from Yelena and the shape shifter agreed. Of course she would keep an eye on him just in case. It actually felt good to be able to just sit down for a few minutes and not have to worry about checking to see if the coast was clear.

As she sat on an over stuffed couch in the main, common room of the safe house, Yelena thought about the last time she was able to sit down on a couch. She, Toril and Cassius were on the run from Vicily’s madness. Reaching up to touch her shoulder, she could still feel the wound. While it was healed for the most part, the area around it was still tender in some places while others she could feel nothing.

If it hadn’t been for Toril and Cassius and later Tim she would have died on that lake. She owed them both her life and that was something she didn’t take lightly. During her recuperation in Troy, Yelena vowed she would do what ever she could to repay all of them.

And speaking of Toril. Where exactly was the big Norwegian? Yelena thought for sure she’d see him by now. Taking out the cell phone she carried, she pressed the call button, highlighted his number then pressed the call button again. Hopefully he would answer again and she could let him know they were settled in and thank him for his help once more.

As Scavenger left, Grey took a moment to focus his weary mind on where he was before digging back into haze to try to figure out how he got here. A few broken flashes came back to him of the forest, of birds, of car rides, and a dulled, faraway voice. With a groan, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His joints cracked and his muscles felt so stiff he began to wonder how long he had been out for. With a cautious stretch, Grey got to his feet and limped around the tiny motel room, glancing tentatively in the mirror.

He would have gasped at what he saw if he hadn't been expecting worse. His hair was disheveled but still remained in its usual ponytail, fly-aways framing his face. Both eyes were black but nowhere near as swollen as he had remembered and his vision was relatively clear. The only remnants of just how much he had been bleeding were the dark stains that still scarred his clothing. His face was otherwise clean save for the Band-Aids that Scavenger must have put over the cuts.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the familiar orange bottle and rattled it with disdain. There were only 3 little blue pills left and he certainly didn't have much in the way of money. It wouldn't have surprise Grey much to find that his boss has cleaned out his bank account.

Sighing, Grey limped back to the bed and lay gingerly on it, not taking any chances with his cracked ribs, and waited for his friend to return.