Fyedka watched in astonishment as the hot waitress from work performed some acrobatics he hadn't seen since his gymnastics teachers demonstrated for him as a child. He then watched as the helicopter bucked and shook against the conflict going on in and around it until he got the confirmation he needed. The young Russian's heart skipped a beat when he saw Yelena come plummeting down from the helicopter only to . . . change . . . from the natural beauty to something alien: blue and with some kind of texture on her skin that may have been scales or some kind of rough armor. Still, that only made him want to help more and he jumped out from behind the Dumpster, ready to sail towards her on a wave of shadows when he let out a sigh of relief to see the winged man catch her.

His handsome green eyes followed their path as they soared away from the fray and landed on a nearby rooftop. It was then Fyedka paused, assessing his own surroundings. The risk to the other two was now far less than that to himself and he immediately plunged the alley in darkness, shadow so thick even he couldn't see through it. Luckily, he'd slept in plenty of alleys like this one and was fairly certain he could figure out how to navigate through it. There was a fire escape much farther down where he could hide and not have to waste energy maintaining his shroud.

The thought of exposing himself made his heart skip beats, but these people obviously weren't on the feds' side. Regardless they were obviously alone against the Riggs Act Enforcers and if they were fighting, then so could he. No sense in leaving his own to fight by themselves.

He knew Yelena would recognize him... but he wasn't sure how the other guy would react to a stranger in their midst. So, perching by the fire escape in the blinding blackness, Fyedka paused, listening to the sounds of the Mutant Hunters as he always thought of them gathered back in their vans and drove off.

Bug watched as John made quick work of the window and followed him into the small reception room. As Bug looked around he heard a sad ring and turned to see John smashing the bell. With a half cocked smile he looked at John as he made his smart comment about them not being open.

They made their way down the hall and Bug caught the slight movement of the camera above them. He tapped John on the shoulder who stopped and looked down at him. He climbed up onto John's shoulders and looked directly into the lens. He flashed his crooked grin and then snapped the camera off it's mount but was careful not to sever the wires and the connection. He then crouched down and held the camera in front of John's face.

The big man grinned directly into the lens, took a long drag from his cigar and blew it over the glass. With that Bug crushed the camera in his hands and jumped off John's shoulders. He spoke in his tinny accent, "That should gets they's attention."

John and Bug shoved the double doors open and entered the warehouse area of the building. The warehouse was empty except for the old Cadillac, it was parked at the rear of the large open space. Near the car were two men in finely tailored suits. One of the men was small, around five feet tall he sat comfortably in a chair near the car. Standing next to him was a giant of a man, close to seven feet tall. The smaller, older man had graying hair and appeared to be in his 60s, the larger man seemed much younger. The small man was calmly smoking a cigarette as the giant glared at Bug and John.

"If you want your car back come and get it, grease monkey..." The little man snarled as Bug and John came closer.

The old man took another drag from his smoke, the giant next to him had balled up his fists ready for a fight.

John shot a look to Bug and kept moving towards the old man. The mechanic glared back at the giant as he walked, his mech leg loudly clanking along in the cavernous warehouse.

"Look gramps, I didn't get up this morning hoping to kick an old man's ass today but I...." John was cut short by a ferocious right hook from the old man. In one swift action the old man took off his Fedora style hat, set it gingerly on his chair and blasted MacManus right in the jaw. The mechanic stumbled backwards as if had been struck by a truck. John shot Bug a look of true surprise, these were no ordinary thugs. The old man came at John again landing a few jabs in the mechanic's ribs, each blow felt like a sledgehammer.

"Damn old man, you musta had yer Wheaties this morning..." John growled as he tried his best to dodge the old man's jabs.

"Whattta youse want me ta do Tic-Tac?" The giant asked of the old man.

"Get the little guy Frankie and twist his head off." The old man barked as the giant came at Bug.
Frankie was still wearing his hat as he rushed at Bug, the giant was all fury and no style has he lumbered towards Bug with his hands out in front of him like a drunken Frankenstein monster.

Frankie was freakishly strong and he fought dirty and like the old man he was a meta too. Frankie was a special kind of thug, he was dumb as a post but he could take a hit. The giant had a very dense molecular structure, hitting Frankie was like punching reinforced concrete or trying to dent structural steel. In addition to his dense structure Frankie never grew winded or weary of fighting, it seemed that the giant could go on forever.

John landed an uppercut that sent the old man back a few feet but it did not slow Tic-Tac down for long. The old man got back to his feet with amazing speed and came at John again landing a few of those sledgehammer punches. John was beginning to size up the old man, he seemed to have unnatural speed and strength. John caught a hold of the old man's fist as he swung at the mechanic. John's mech hand squeezed the small thug's hand like a vice, John slammed Tic-Tac down onto the floor. the old man was visibly shaken as he connected with the concrete.

"I could do this all day old man." John sneered as he slammed the small man onto the floor again.

The old man landed a stiff kick to John's groin, the mechanic let go of the little guy and struggled not to throw up from the nut shot.

"Me too, punk!" The old man said with a smile.

Gabriel let off a groan as Yelena moved to help him sit up. He felt the tackiness of his bloodied skin prying debris from the rooftop concrete and glanced down at that scraped flesh of his shoulder. It looked like he'd just gotten into a fight with a very pissed off and very thorough housecat who was in severe need of a nail clipping. It looked gnarly, but, it was mostly superficial, unlike the wound on his side, which was steadily flowing. Gabriel brushed off his arm as best he could with his opposite hand and then wiped the blood off on the leg of his pants. Grimacing slightly and taking slow, controlled breaths to keep his blood pressure down as best he could, he looked up at Yelena.

"Don't thank me until I improve on that landing bit. That could've gone a lot worse." He was serious about the last part, but, he offered up a warm smile in response to her thanks. "I'm a little frayed, but, I'll be okay."

He knew full well that they had to move, and allowed himself to accept the help to his feet from Yelena. The old man came and went, and Gabriel was well aware their escape time was going to be cut in half, at best. Sighing, he was about to answer her question about that blob of shadows, which he had noted, and was just as curious about, when she wandered off to the edge of the roof. He watched her peer over, then beckon him. Giving that bloddied arm another quick wipe down with his palm, he obliged, walking slowly until he got his balance under him again, and brushing his hand off on the thigh of his pants once more.

He glanced over the side and noted what Yelena was pointing out, then looked back to his Russian partner in crime. He narrowed his eyes slightly, studying her, like he often did as he sized people up, then a slow smile curled across his lips. Never a dull moment in the life of a meta, was there? He glanced down again, setting one bare foot, toes bloodied from scraping the concrete, on the roof's ledge.

"Well, I can't really argue an alternative to flying, that hasn't seemed to go well for either of us tonight..." He offered a short chuckle. "Question is, is it any safer down there? I'm not exactly the most inconspicuous person, and I can't change myself to blend in any better..."

He cut his gaze back over to Yelena, arching a single brow.

"Plus, now do we have some kind of shadow monster to deal with? Tell you the truth, I'd much rather deal with the agents... At least I know that they're stupid."

As Bug and John entered the warehouse Bug walked calmly beside his friend. At first he was curious as to why there were only two guys, but his curiosity was quickly replaced with suspicion. Two guys? No way, this was not going to be this easy. As John started speaking Bug kept pace with him and watched the giant of a man as Tic-Tac bantered with John. In what seemed like a blink the old man was on top of his friend and pounding the hell out of him. Bug was about to respond and jump in when he heard Tic-Tac give the order to attack and he turned at the sound of the lumbering giants footsteps.

He shifted quickly and dashed towards a massive metal support beam and Frankie turned awkwardly to pursue. Bug sprang off his feet, used his momentum to spin in the air and got his feet against the poll, allowing inertia to rebound him like a coiled spring and he shot off the poll smashing his fists into Frankie's midsection. It was like hitting a concrete wall, so much so that the man barely stepped back at the impact. As he was bouncing back Frankie grabbed him and started crushing his rib cage. Bug gasped as he felt the wind being squeezed from his lungs, he had made a mistake but one that was unpredictable but now he had to get out of this guys grasp.

He started bicycling his legs and Franky's grip slipped just enough that Bug was able to land a shot square to the nuts, Frankie howled and grit his teeth, loosening his grip just enough for Bug to get his arm out and smash the big man on the bridge of the nose. The one second of stars the giant saw was enough for Bug to drop to the floor and dash towards the car. Frankie grunted and lumbered towards Bug, "You're dead meat little Bug!"

Bug smirked and reached under the hood, popping the trunk and reaching down beside the interior wheel. He grabbed the big tire iron he knew was there and faked a movement towards Frankie who was now almost on top of him. Frankie responded by grasping towards the left and Bug spun leaping into the air towards Frankie's right. The sound of the tire iron rang out like a bell and when Bug landed he noticed that he had actually bent it on Frankie's skull. Surely that put the giant down. He turned and Frankie was standing there holding the side of his head where a tiny trickle of blood was coming out of a wound that looked no more threatening than a shaving nick, "Damn it little Bug, I haven' been cut in years."

Bug looked at the tire iron in confusion, that blow was enough to fell an elephant, or so he thought. He began to contemplate their situation. Over Frankie's shoulder he could see John getting jabbed and tapped by Tic-Tac's almost blinding fast punches and kicks. These two guys were almost their doppelgangers and of all the fights he had ever been in with John never once did they have to face something that was so close to fighting themselves.

Frankie swung downwards and Bug side stepped, the impact actually cracking the concrete floor. He shook his head in thanks that he managed to avoid that hit and he started moving backwards across the garage, putting some distance between Frankie and Tic-Tac. If these guys were accustomed to fighting with each other like he and John were he knew that keeping them apart would be an advantage, unfortunately it put he and John at a disadvantage as well, but with his speed he could close the gap to John a lot faster than Frankie could. Then it hit him, that was the trick, open the space, then close it and go for Tic-Tac together while Frankie tried to close in. He would be able to create 3 - 5 second windows that they could hit Tic-Tac together and perhaps find a crack in the armor. Bug moved as far back as he could, Frankie in pursuit knocking over massive pieces of equipment and his rage building. As he moved back he would occasionally leap in and tap Frankie with a shot to the head or the body, hits that were about like hitting a bus with a BB gun, but enough to distract the dummy until he could get enough space. He figured he could do this once, maybe twice before Tic-Tac caught on and adjusted his own tactics to counter them.

Every time John thought he was wearing the old man down, he would get back up again. Who was this tough old bastard? Being an old boxer himself John recognized the old fashioned fighting style and in a way he admired it.

"Nice hands gramps, you're footwork ain't bad either..." John said as he tried to keep ahead of Tic-Tac's unnaturally quick jabs and hooks.

"I don't see no reason to hold back, looks like someone already messed that face of yours up." The old man quipped as he danced around John at near blinding speed.

As John and Tic-Tac continued to exchange insults and punches John could see that Bug was leading Frankie away from him and the car. It was the old divide and conquer set up, a tactic Bug and John had relied on before to even the odds or at least to buy themselves more time.

Frankie swung at Bug cracking the concrete at his feet, the warehouse shook with the blow. John could see that Bug was not letting up on the giant thug who was still wearing his old fashioned Fedora hat and jacket. Bug bounced and jumped all around Frankie landing some good punches and kicks. John could see that Bug was getting about as far as he himself was... not very.

Tic-Tac was really working John's sides, the mechanic's ribs ached more with each blow. John was landing some fine shots of his own but Tic-Tac was much faster. For every 5 or 6 times the old man's punches punished John's ribs and gut the mechanic's punches were finding their mark once. John was nowhere near ready to give up but he knew his ribs would soon be broken, and the danger of a broken rib punching a hole in a lung was very real.

John swatted the small man away from him with a strong right and then put his weight on his mech leg springing into the air with a loud 'click'. John landed inches from Tic-Tac and slammed his big heavy leg onto the scrappy old man. Tic-Tac was on his belly, he squirmed ferociously to get out from under John's heavy metal boot. John pressed down with all his might between the shoulder blades of the old man, the motors of his leg whizzed and hummed as he did so.

John drew in a deep breath and looked out across the open area, Bug was way ahead of Frankie, the giant kept coming at the small hero, his anger building with each missed punch.

"Hold still ya little shit..." Frankie grumbled as Bug bobbed and weaved around.

John put his fingers to his mouth and let out a loud whistle. John still had the old man pinned...for now. The mechanic nodded at Bug, it was time to double up on these mutts and end this lop sided fight.

”It not take smart person to pull trigger of gun, Gabriel. But I see point. Is not going to be easy no matter what we do now. Either way, we have to be smarter than agents and shadow blob thing. And I not really wanting to separate. Last time we do that….”

Leaving the end of that sentence open as they both knew what it was. Hell, they were both still getting used to each other again because of it. God how she hated being in this sort of situation. If only they could somehow find a place they could escape to and find a little peace and quiet without having to look over their shoulder. There were a few places left in the world they could do that and all of them third world countries that sought to use the metas for their own gain. Mostly war lords who wanted to gain power and rule their countries. And Yelena didn’t like that much and she knew damn well Gabriel and the others wouldn’t sell themselves like that either.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, she brought her gold eyes to Gabriel’s glowing blue and saw the way he was studying her. He knew she was thinking of something other than what was happening at the moment and she looked away for a moment. Her friend had only one trait she didn’t like and that was intuition. He seemed to know where he mind wondered from time to time and it made her wonder what else he may know about her.

Finally looking back at him, she sighed heavily and reverted to her native language knowing the more exhausted and pissed off she became; the harder her English was to understand.

”I will not leave your side this time, Gabriel. Whatever you decide we should do, I will be with you until we cannot fight against them anymore. And if we make it out of this, I promise we will find a way to get back up with John and Bug.”

It was her last stand. She’d had enough and Gabriel could see by the look in her eyes she was tired of all of this. And as he narrowed his glowing eyes at her he would see the conviction clear to her soul she meant every word she said to him. Not that she ever said anything she didn’t really mean. But there was something different in her eyes now. Something he hadn’t seen before and it was, to say the least, disturbing. As though he knew she would either make it out of this or die trying.

From over Yelean’s left shoulder, back in the direction of the church, Gabriel would see a darkness that was out of place. While the hour was late at night (or early in the morning), darkened alley’s and streets weren’t uncommon, but there was something decidedly deeper about the darkness coming from the alley near the church. What was it?

Bug heard John's whistle and he spun on his heel, he grabbed a large wrench that was on a table where a car was being stripped and turned to look square at Frankie. The large man's face was red with anger and he was off balance due to his anger at having to chase Bug all over the garage. With one spring off a support beam Bug dashed and faked high so Frankie would bring his hands up but then went low and smashed Frankie's shin with the wrench as hard as he could swing it. Frankie howled in anger and pain as the wrench made contact with his leg. He tripped forward and into the vehicle that was half stripped and got caught up in the interior of the raw components. Bug continued his short run across the warehouse and with a leap was soaring through the air, about 6 feet off the ground on a direct trajectory towards Tic-Tac's head, the wrench lifted high above his head. John could see by the look on Bug's face that his normal policy of not killing the bad guys but leaving them tied up for the cops had been waylaid and he was going for the skull smash that would put Tic-Tac out of this fight permanently.

Bug normally had a more compassionate approach to fighting crime than John, sure people occasionally died but typically it was not by Bug's own hand. When it came to Meta's using their abilities to harm others however there were those times that John had seen him ratchet up his response and actually put one out for good.

Bug was beginning his descent and his eyes were glowing red instead of their normal pink, the large wrench was whistling as he began to swing...


))E, I am gonna let you call damage in case you want to do something here ((

Everything Yelena thought was the truth. Gabriel wasn't going to be someone's tool for war. He was starting to uncover the truth of his past, most of which was still a complete blur to him. He grew up, or so he thought, under the tutelage of a wisened old Native American Chief, and, while that still might have some truth in his actual past, as far as he knew, that was all an engineered memory. It was hard to tell what was true and what was false anymore, and his seclusion certainly didn't help that. One thing he was certain of, though, Yelena was real. She was right here in front of him. She bled like he did, she faced the same evils he did.

Yelena, Bug and John, along with the other Metas that he fought alongside, they were real. As far as Gabriel was concerned, there was no more past. There was only what was in front of him, and only what came next. Considering he couldn't control what was coming next, he needed to focus on what was right in front of him. He studied Yelena's eyes a split second longer, then nodded.

"I don't know about you, Yelena, but, these little scratches mean nothing to me." The wound at his side throbbed and ached, but, the bleeding had been slowing a bit. He'd just have to be careful.

Glancing around, he peered over the edge of the roof again, then stepped back, his gaze flicking over Yelena's shoulder to that oddly inky blackness. That was a strange amount of darkness, especially in the city, and it was concerning, but, it had an interesting draw also, didn't it? Taking a slow breath, he turned his eyes back to Yelena. As he did so, that tanned flesh lightened, lightened, until that Spark, that glowing white energy, literally shone from his pores, turning him into a walking alabaster statue with a radiant glow.

"I guess I haven't forgotten all of my tricks after all." He flashed her a grin the same color as his now glowing flesh. "Shall we see what's lurking in the dark down there?"

Yelena watched Gabriel. Like her he was thinking of other things. When he looked at her again and he told her the scratches meant nothing, she knew he wasn’t going to give up that easily either. She let go the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding waiting for him to make a decision.

As he peered over the edge then looked back at her, she saw him glance over her shoulder at something then start to change. The bright light that he emitted was almost blinding and it hurt her eyes to look at him directly. Picking her hand up to shield her eyes from the brightness, she saw that grin and knew he’d found something.

When he mentioned the dark down below, she turned to see what he was looking at and saw the inky blackness coming from an alley near the church. Enemy or ally, it was time to find out. Whatever it was, they were about to find out for certain.

”Da….let’s see if we are hunted or hunters.”

After a few minutes, Fyedka decided he had better relax or else risk draining himself completely of energy. Taking a deep breath, Fyedka let the inky blackness fade back into his surroundings and felt his body seem to settle into itself, as if he'd been holding a heavy object for a while. Turning away from the street, he looked off in the direction the other Meta had flown with Yelena.

When he turned back, he was met with what at first appeared to be a blackened silhouette with the vague shape of a face. As he jumped back, he found it was that much worse: A black clad Riggs Act enforcer with his gun pointed menacingly at Fyedka. The young man froze, his green eyes going wide. As the horrible icy chill fell over him, he began to wonder if his heart was still beating at all or if his soul had been ejected from his body.

"Meta! Identify yourself now!" the officer snapped authoritatively at him. Fyedka could see other dark figures gathering around the opening of the alley around the dark van that had been parked right outside of it. He could hear the clicks of other weapons snapping at the ready and mentally cursed himself out for being stupid. He'd filled an alley with a black shroud in daylight and didn't even think to check before just dropping his one cloak of protection. Now, not only had he drawn attention to his location, but he'd just ratted himself out as the cause.

Slowly, Fyedka raised his hands in defense and tried to think of something stalling to say while he reached out to the darkness around him one more time. This time, he'd have to be more careful, but the officers were getting impatient.

"Identify yourself, now!" the original demanded again. Meanwhile, the shadows began to swell and darken in the crevices of the alley.

"Calm down, guys," said Fyedka, "I'm not a Meta, alright? I was wondering what the darkness was too. There must be one down here..." He began to slowly turn away from them but immediately stopped when the RAID Agents brandished their weapons and warned him not to move. Fyedka's heart jumped and images of Mikhail's face twisted in his mind. He tried to keep the panic from his face as he turned carefully back to them. "Okay, okay..." he said, then felt a wave of relief as he felt that weight settle in on his concentration, "but you guys may want to be careful. You don't know what else is down here..."

As he said this, the shadows rose up around him and Fyedka jumped backwards, all but disappearing into darkened miasma that stretched and warped around him. The RAID agents seem to freeze, their dark masks turning upward to meet the pairs of red eyes that popped out from the shadows like so many night creatures waking from their daytime slumber. Their long, thin arms stretched tendril like fingers out towards the agents and grabbed hold of their weapons.

Backing farther away, Fyedka splayed his fingers and moved like a puppet master, letting his shadowy golems snatch the guns from them. He knew there were too many of them. The young man just hoped that their shock would let him get away. Unfortunately, they were highly trained and Fyedka only managed to bash the closest one in his helmeted head before they all seemed to get their bearings. Like a swarm, they stormed into alley into the darkness. Fyedka quickly backed up and moved his golems to swipe and snatch at them, but fear had jolted him and his aim was messy. Stumbling backwards, Fyedka began moving quickly and as quietly as he could farther into the alley, pulling shadows into the mass and making it bigger. The bigger it was, though, the more exhausting. Worst of all, both Fyedka and the RAID agents knew the alley was a dead end.

As he backed up against the brick wall and flattened his thin body, he managed to get two of the golems to pick up an agent each. At first, he tried slamming them together, but the helmets were strong and this only seemed to piss them off. They each drew back up pistols and began firing wildly, some in his direction. Fyedka blinked and tried to press himself flatter against the wall until he finally resorted to having the golems slam their victims into the cement until they stopped flailing. It wasn't until they were lying still on the concrete beneath the golems that he felt the sting in his cheek. Hand shaking slightly, Fyedka touched the searing skin to feel the harsh burn going from his cheek bone just beneath his right eye to halfway to his jaw.

At least it was just a graze, he thought, still, he needed to somehow get out of here stealthily. There was no way he was going to win this on his own.

He could already feel the beginning fatigue setting in. Carefully, he tried to slip around back the way he came, closing the shadows in on the agents as he went. Still, they were spread almost entirely down the length of the alley and the shadows were beginning to fade and lose form as his energy quickly drained. No sooner did he try to slip by the end, moving away from the darkest part of the shadows that one of the agents saw him and lunged forward. The agent shouted to his comrades and had Fyedka around the neck and pinned to the wall so fast he didn't even have time to take in a shocked gasp.

Writhing against the grip, Fyedka clawed at the hands on his throat and tried to shout, but all that came out was a pitiful choking whimper. Black armored agents emerged from the shadows like piranhas, back up pistols aimed at him. Fyedka tried to control the golems and managed to knock several of the agents to the ground, but the grip only tightened around his neck. He felt something begin to close off and his vision began to gray. Now the panic began to settle in and the last of his energy quickly drained. The golems melted away and the shadows seemed to splatter away from their mass and back into their natural places. There, helpless against the wall, Fyedka let out another pained whimper and kicked desperately at the armored agent holding him. His shoes just bounced off of him in vain and so all he could find left to do was pray for a miracle.

(TEXAS nine months prior)
Tim took one last glance over his shoulder at the closing door of the barn, twisted the throttle on the modified Sporster and sped down the dirt road just as the sun was setting in the west. A half mile from the RED NECK BAR, he pulled off the road and pushed the Harley into a grove of trees. Tim removed two small athletic duffle bags from the saddle bags of the motorcyle as the moonless darkness deepened. In the darkness he quietly and cautiously approached the RED NECK.
Outside were parked two dozen chopper motorcycles, Tim crawled across to a dumpster beside the building, looked around, then moved to the small space betwee the dumpster and the building. He set the duffle bags down and opened them. From one he removed a dozen blocks of C-4 plastik explosive, a dozen blasting caps and a roll of detenator cord. The Red Neck Bar was a concrete block and wood frame structure built three feet off the ground on concrete block pillars. Tim scooted on his back under the building and placed the C-4 blocks on the pillars, inserted the blasting caps and attached the detenator cord. He could hear loud music, raised voices and the general sounds of a tavern in full swing. Crawling out from under the building, he returned to the dumpster. There from his duffle bags he removed two Claymore anti personel mined.
Tim made his way around the back of the building to the back door, where he placed one of the mines and the bottom of the three steps leading up to the back door, he then quietly opened the screen door and attached the trip wire to the handle of the back door. Tim then moved to the front of the building where he cautiously did the placed the second Claymore at the foot of the front steps. He then retrieved his duffle bags and squat ran twenty yards into the parking lot, stood, reached behind his back and slid his sawed off twelve gauge out of its scabard.
"This one is for you my Stubby old friend." Tim muttered to himself, then pointed the barrel in the air and let off two rounds and shouted "DE CAMP!!!!!! HEY DE CAMP YA YELLA BELLIED POLE CAT!!!! YA GONNA STAY HIDIN' BEHIND YUR MA'MAS APRON UR YA GONNA COME OUT AN HAVE A LOOK SEE WHO TOOK YUR YA HO AN BURNED IT WITH THE REST OF THE GARBAGE!!!!!!!"

It was as if someone had switched the radio off, the bar became silent. Two minutes clicked by and nothing, slowly the door opened and De Camp, red faced, fist clinching, opened the front door and tepped out on the stoop. In his right hand was a double barreled sawed of shotgun. Tim could see rapid movement behind DeCamp.

"MOTHER***** ... I'M GONNA SKIN YA THEN GUT YA AN HANG YUR CARCASS ON A FENCE PORT!!!!!" DeCamp yelled, as he took another step down the steps.

"I don' figur it that away asshole, Ya remember Stubby? Well now this har is fur my friend." Tim said calmly, lowered his shotgun fired at DeCamp's right knee, who stumbeled down the last step, tripping the Claymore, just as Tim dove for the ground and pressed the detenator switch for the C-4 Blocks, the entire Red Neck Barraised off the blocks, then exploded in a ball of fire. Tim was showered with debris and dirt. He stood up and slowly made his way back to his motorcycle, kick started it and pulled out onto the road. In the distance he could hear the sound of sirens. "Well now Timmy boy looks like ya can't go home just yet. Seems ya have stirred up another hornets nest. Yekon it's north fur us, back ta New York, last place they be lookin fur me, I reckon." Tim,thought to himself as he pulled out on the road, headed west, past what was once The Red Neck Bar then turned north.