The ‘heroes’ left New York city and found refuge in a safe house in Troy. Zoe, or KillSwitch, as she was known, along with her boyfriend, Cassius, guided the meta’s to a house in the country so they could regroup and lick their wounds. While there, Zoe was able to get some vital information about Roberto DiVine for the others. Discovering he was being held at Our Lady of Mercy hospital in New York on the burn unit word, the heroes decided to try and rescue their fallen comrade.

Obtaining a couple of other met-human’s along the way, they devised a plan with Killswitch’s help. Of course this meant returning to New York City and possibly being spotted and detained. Of course this didn’t deter the determined group from trying to do what they thought was best for Robert.

As they were making preparations for Roberts rescue they intercepted a transmission that let them know Robert was going to be moved to a maximum security detention center for meta-humans. Upon hearing this, the group decided to attempt the rescue, even though they knew it was risky.

When they arrived in New York, Tim and Takashi waited in the armored vehicle while Yelena, disguised as an intern for the burn unit went into the hospital with Cassius pretending to be a burn victim. It was while Yelena and Cassius were in the burn unit, getting ready to make a play for Robert that Robert suffered a heart attack. Or so they thought. In reality, it was a ploy by R.A.I.D. to draw the meta’s out of hiding and capture them while they transported Robert to the maximum security facility. Yelena caught on to what was happening when she saw a weapon sticking out of a ‘nurses’ uniform. Realizing they had walked into a hornets nest, she called for an abort of the mission. While trying to think f a way out of the mess they were in, Yelena and Cassius met Toril Njordhagen, known as Wraith, another meta.

With Toril’s help, Yelena and Cassius barely escaped by the skin of their teeth. When they met up with the ambulance they were going to use to transport Robert to the safe house with, Yelena discovered Shawn badly wounded and in the back of the rig but Fay, also known as Seige, had been captured. With Takashi behind the wheel now, they quickly left Our Lady of Mercy hospital with Toril with them.

As the ambulance carrying Yelena, Cassius, Shawn and Toril quicly left the area and started making is way out of the city, Toril told Yelena and Cassius about himself and his connection to Beacon. Yelena was able to put the pieces of a widely scattered puzzle together enough o realize Toril was sent to intercept the group on behalf of Beacon to get to Killswitch. Unbeknownst to Toril.

When the group pulled off the road to get a new game plan, Yelena and Cassius decided to go to a different place to protect Zoe. Takashi decided to go his own way, convinced his meta ability was more of a liability than an asset. Now, as Cassius, Shawn, Toril and Yelena head to Lake Canadaigua and an old lake house Cassius’ uncle owns, Beacon is tracking their every move from a covert helicopter thanks to a location transmitter located in Toril’s hand that was implanted without his knowledge.

In the meantime, Tim was able to draw attention away from the ambulance, but at the cost of destroying his own vehicle. All of his communication to Killswitch has been severed and he’s roaming the streets of New York unaware his friends have gone to another location. And his friends think the worst since his vehicle was destroyed and all communication was lost. Even as they hope for the best, they are certain he has fallen victim to R.A.I.D. as well.

What will become of Robert and Fay now that they have been secured at the Eastern R.A.I.D. Detention Center? Will Beacon get a hold of Zoe? Or will the others be able to protect her from Beacon’s clutches? Or will the hero’s be able to band together once more and make things right?

At the FBI impound garage, Jameson walked into the glass walled office and poured himself a cup of water from the cooler. Taking a deep drink he still couldn't stop playing the events over in his mind. He still believed that his plasma burst didn't destroy the assault vehicle and when Henkel entered the office with a look of disappointment on his face, Jameson already knew what he was going to say.

"He's not in there." Jameson guessed.

"How in the hell were you so certain?" Questioned Henkel as he slumped into a chair. "I mean, how in the hell did the guy get out of the car?"

"I think he's fast."



Henkel scowled and scoffed. "Well he'd have to be able to..."

"Stop time." Interjected Jameson, nodding his head. "I've ran things over a hundred times in my mind and that's the only plausible solution."

Jameson then dropped a file on the desk beside his partner.

"What's this?" Asked Henkel picking it up. Opening it he could see that it was a case file. "The Highwayman. What does this have to do with anything."

"Well, Lance Strauss has the ability to bend time and fold space around himself. He can't stop it, but he can slow it in order to move incredibly fast. I think the guy in that assault vehicle can do the same thing." Divulged Jameson.

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!" Exclaimed Henkel, "I gotta hand to you, in this crazy world, this makes perfect sense. So what now?"

Jameson couldn't believe it. Henkel was actually asking him what to do! "Well, I... didn't expect you were going to accept my theory so readily."

Henkel leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. "Hey, you got the ball now. You have two choices, throw it away or run with it."

Jameson smiled. "Well it's going to take a while for them to process the vehicle, and you can sure as shit bet they're not going come up with anything. Let's start going through all the unusual occurrences that have happened in the city since the crash. Maybe we'll get lucky."

Henkel sat up straight. "Maybe. You go ahead and get started I'm gonna call this in and let them know that we still have a fugitive meta-human on the loose."

The lake was black mirror of stars and not a stitch of wind stirred in the night to distort the picturesque scene. He wanted to just stay on the shore and take it in for a while, but Yelena wanted to make sure that the cabin was secure. The large man trailed behind her, noiselessly as he used his flying ability to lessen his weight as he crossed the old boards. He was known as Wraith for nothing, he was all about stealth and made sure he was silent even though he couldn't possibly see how anyone could have planned an ambush in such a remote location. How could anyone even know where they were?



On the other side of the lake the helicopter silently hovered in the sky and recorded every move that the three fugitives made on its powerful cameras. In the back, Surge watched the monitors and at one point was able to zoom in on them as they exited the ambulance and approached the cabin. He wanted to get a closer look at the woman, who from what he could tell didn't quite look the same as she had in the hospital, in fact she seemed taller and might not have even been the same person. Vacily, squinted his eyes and adjusted the levels of the night vision, then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he recognized her face.

"Sir. What is it?" Asked the co-pilot who noticed the look his commander's face.

Vacily quickly masked his expression. "It's nothing." He answered with a shake of his head then pretended to rub the sleep from his eyes, "Eyes are playing tricks on me." But they weren't, though he wished that they had been.

The last time he had seen her was in Siberia while working for the C.I.A. and masquerading as a Soviet officer stationed at the detention facility where the meta-humans had been housed. He thought she was dead, but there she was looking just the same, her beautiful face untouched by the ravages of time, while he had become an old man, despite his meta-human physique. Toril it seemed had weathered the years better than him as well, but then again Vacily was pushing eighty years, although he seemed to be a man in his late fifties. It was only due to some creative manipulation of his own records that he was able to maintain the illusion of a normal life span, but soon people would begin asking questions regardless.

"Sir. Thermal imaging reveals no other bodies in the cabin." The co-pilot informed him.

Vacily looked for himself and sure enough there was nobody else in the cabin. "She has to be underground." He surmised and immediately called in the task force he had on stand-by that was only an hour away. "There's a clearing about 400 yards to the north, I want you to land there.", he commanded.


Back at the cabin, Toril pulled a tarp of one of the couches and stretched out, but he couldn't sleep. He actually didn't see any point for him to stick around anymore accept to keep on eye on the boy, Shawn. Tomorrow, he would find out what their plans were then make the decision whether or not he would stay before he got too deep to pull himself out.

Driving down dirt roads with no head lights a caravan of three black humvee's entered the clearing where the helicopter had landed. They had been following the orders of their commanding officer and stayed an hour behind the ambulance.

Out of each vehicle emerged four soldiers fully outfitted for a night operation and as they assembled in the clearing , Surge exited the helicopter and stood before the marines. They all held their salutes until their commanding officer reciprocated the gesture.


"For those of you new to the operation, I am Colonel Petrovsky. On the other side of the lake is a cabin containing three hostels, two are meta-human and the third has not yet been confirmed." Vacily then proceeded to brief the marines on what they were up against and set, obtaining the mutant known as Killswitch as their main priority. "I do not want the targets harmed, but use necessary force to secure the cabin. Set all plasma weapons to stun." He commanded.

Vacily, commonly utilized marines by setting up 'black operations' to disguise the work they were performing for Beacon. The soldiers were completely unaware of Vacily's hidden agenda and believed that their targets were terrorists and a basic threat to society as they began to work their way around the shorter shore line and move towards the cabin. Outside they secured both entrances while the marines planned to bust in through the windows and surprise their marks. While the soldier's prepared for their entrance, the Captain, sabotaged the ambulance they arrived in under the advisement of the Colonel communicating with him via comm-link, to make sure they wouldn't be able to make any fast getaway.

"Hold your positions until I give the command." The colonel told all of the marines, then after waiting for a half hour or so,finally ordered the operation to commence.

Tim, , made his way out of the alley behind the dinner, north on Prospect Parkway. Around Grand Army Plaza to Plaza Street, northeast across Underhill Avenue. Stopped at an ATM and withdrew nine hundred dollars from an account under an assumed name. Then walked north to Bergen Street. From there west to 926 Bergen Street, the Monte Moving and Storage Company. A three story brick building, Tim walked up to the steel door, pressed the buzzer and waited for the door to buz, then entered the office.

“Good evenin', the name's Tim Rutherford.” He said extending his hand to the old man sitting at a metal desk in an old wooden swivel chair.

The old man shook Tim’s hand firmly as he chewed on a cigar butt. “Whata can I doa for you Mister Rutherford.” The man said in broken English.

“I have an automobile stored here and I would like ta get it out.” Tim said as he reached in his wallet and removed a tattered claim ticket, handing it to the old man.

The old man looked at the ticket “Ah yes that nicea automobile. …….. “Vinny geta your assa up an go geta this autoamobile for this nice man.” The old man yelled. Vinny a young man of about eight-teen came around the corner of an ajoining room and laid a Playboy on the desk. The old man frowned and pointed his finger at Vinny.
“You a be a carful with a this autoamobile. I now wanna hear no squealing tires.”

“Alright Uncle Anthony.” Vinny said as he made his way out into the warehouse.

These a kids a these days ….. you gota tell them everything…an all they wanna do is a chase the girls and play that a loud musica.”

Tim smiled and said “Yes sir ya are right on the nickel thar. Ain’t like when I was growin’ up. My daddy had me workin’ ‘fore I finished grade school.”

They old man smiled as the deep throated rumble of the the black 1967 Ford Mustang GT could be heard just outside the office. Vinny got out and lovingly wiped the door handle of the Mustang off. He then walked into the office and said. “Mr. Rutherford I am going to miss that car. It has been a pleasure to keep it ready for you all these years. I started washing it and starting it once a week when I was only ten. The tags were changed last week and the registration is in the glove box, by the way.”

“Well Vinny I reckon I owe ya a thank ya fur takin’ such good care of it.” Tim said as he extended his hand to Vinny In his hand was three folded one-hundred dollar bills, which Tim slipped into Vinny’s hand. “And thank you Mr. Monte, it has been a pleasure doing business with you. Tim started out the side door of the office as Vinny opened the two steel doors facing the street.

Tim shook Mr. Monte’s hand again, turned and walked out the doorway.
Mr. Monte siad, as Tim left "You a watcha your ass now. I no wanna be reading about you."

Tim climbed into the Mustang, shut the door, fastened his racing harness and pulled slowly out onto Bergen Street and headed west.

The doors to the lake house was busted open and black clad figures holding plasma guns barreled into the house from both entrances, yelling at the top of their lungs.

“EVERYONE DOWN ON THE FLOOR NOW!”

Bright Mag lights shone in Cassius and Toril’s faces blinding them and freezing them where they sat or stood like deer caught in the high beams of an oncoming car. Cassius tried to make a dash for it but the black clad figures quickly caught him and zip tied his hands behind his back and helped him sit up against the edge of the couch with his legs stretched out and crossed before him.

The instant the doors were busted open, Yelena sprung from the bed and as the sound of rushing feet coming up the stairs filled her ears over the yelling downstairs, she knew she had precious few seconds. Morphing into a black ops specialist, she darted to the side of the door and waited for the first operative to enter the room. When the door was kicked open she made it look like she had already cleared the room in the masculine voice she used for her male illusions.



“ALL CLEAR”

The first operative in the room paused and looked at her. Trying to register the fact if this person was really a member of the group or not, the operative yelled at her.

“What’s the code word?!”

This was something Yelena was not prepared for and knew that who ever had sent these men had dealt with meta-humans before. Blinking, Yelena hesitated a second too long and the operative aimed his plasma gun at her.

“DOWN ON THE FLOOOR NOW!”

Yelena reacted out of sheer instinct then. Kicking out with her right foot, she knocked the operative’s gun out of his hands as it went flying across the room. Before the operative could do anything Yelena had placed several well placed hits and kicks to his body and one last one to his chin.

The next thing Yelena knew she felt a searing pain rip through her entire body and she screamed before dropping to her hands and knees. Her illusion of the black operative agent faded away and it was all she could do to keep the ‘normal’ illusion of her in tact. Even then a flicker of blue, scale like skin shimmered into view before quickly being hidden once more.



Two operative agents rushed her and while one kept his weapon trained on her, the others pushed his knee into the middle of her shoulders so he could draw her hands behind her back and zip tie them. As soon as Yelena felt the pressure of the knee between her shoulders, she tried to fight as hard as she could to stop what was happening. Of course the stunning from the plasma charge drained a good deal of her energy but she was still able to give them a little more difficulty then if she had laid there like a limp dish rag. And there was nothing wrong with her vocal chords as she spouted out several insults in Russian at the black clad agents.

Roughly pulled to her feet, the operatives forced her out of the room and down the steps. The whole way down the steps she fought back against them as best she could, making sure she used the cramp space of the stair way to her advantage only to have something hard shoved at her back to make her stumble forward.

It wasn’t until she reached the bottom of the steps that she saw Cassius and Toril seated on the floor against the sofa that she stopped fighting for a moment. Taking a quick head count of the agents in the house, she knew this was not a very large operation and when the full affects of the stunning wore off, she would be able to easily overtake these men with Toril and Cassius’ help. Right now, though, it was all she could do to walk on rubbery feeling legs and keep the illusion of her normal looking self in tact.

Forced to sit between Cassius and Toril on the floor, she glared at the operatives in the room with them. As one of them walked by, she tried to kick out at him to make him trip but she didn’t have the strength to lift her leg high enough to do it. Finally one of the men walked over to the door and called outside to someone sitting out there.

“Situation under control, Colonel. We have three in this room and there’s one under guard upstairs that appears to have suffered a head wound. He didn’t even wake up when we entered the place.”

Yelena could hear a voice outside but couldn’t make anything else out. Instead, she looked over at Cassius who was not the least bit happy. Even though he seemed completely relaxed and had a crooked grin on his face, she could tell by the way his temple pulsated he was seething.

As she heard foot steps on the creaking boards of the porch, she lowered her head to try and conceal her face with her hair the best she could. Who ever this was, she didn’t want them to see her in case they were looking to deport her – again.

As Tim Rutherford drove away in the '67 Mustang, his pursuers trailed behind struggling to find a lead, any lead that would give them some direction. Bleary eyed, Jameson took his eyes off of the monitor for a moment and leaned into his chair, stretching out his back. He had been searching through police dispatches for over three hours now and it was getting late and maybe he would have better luck with the reports that would be filled out the next day.



Jameson was just about to resume his searching when Henkel marched into the small field office looking optimistic.



"'J', you have to hear this." Henkel said exuberantly as he placed an mp3 player on the desk and hit play. What Jameson heard was a garbled recording of Rutherford's last transmission before the, 'M-ther He- Wrangler -n foot. AV destroyed. Ack-.'

Excited, Jameson played the recording over a few more times, listening to it very carefully, then whispered to himself, "Wrangler."

"This was intercepted near the site of the wreckage, after the explosion." Explained Henkel, "The specialists think that your plasma burst, must have disrupted his secure communication link and he wasn't aware of it. The guys cleaned it up as best they could. What they can tell —"

"He's Texan." Observed Jameson, interrupting his partner.

"Yeah," Agreed Henkel, "they could tell that and gave us a rough estimate on the direction he may have been headed."

Jameson was fervently searching back through the transcripts of the recent dispatches, a look in his eyes that drew the attention of his partner.

"What it is?" Asked Henkel.

Jameson held up his finger for a moment, then exclaimed, "Bingo!". He played the audio back of call that came from Prospect Heights. Apparently, a man with a Texan accent alerted two officers outside of a diner that there was a shooting a couple of blocks a way. The man didn't stick around but when the police arrived on the scene, they found two African American men shot up pretty bad. One was unconscious but the other was screaming in pain, both his knee caps had been shot off. Alone the information was not very incriminating but then Jameson pointed out the transcript of one of the officers who called in the description of the perpetrator. It seemed that the description provided by one of the victims matched the Texas man that had alerted the cops of the shooting.

"That's our guy." Stated Henkel.

Jameson agreed but he was curious of his behaviour. "Why would he alert the police of his own crime?"

Henkel who was already on the move shook his head. "Who cares." He said and headed out the door.

"Where are we going?" Inquired Jameson, grabbing his coat and running after his fast moving partner.

"I feel like a coffee. How about you? And I think I know just the diner."

-------------------------------

The unmarked FBI car pulled up in front the all night restaurant called the 'Chuck Down Diner'. Jameson just shook his head at the name. "So this is the place, hey?", he remarked.

Henkel nodded and stepped onto to the street where he stood surveying his surroundings.

"So are we going to head in?" Asked Jameson.

Henkel didn't respond, he just continued to look around so, Jameson just leaned against the car and waited.

"Christ!" Swore Henkel. "Don't these people believe in security cameras! Not one of these buildings has anything even remotely resembling a camera. What the hell is it, 1950 around here?"

"Com'on, I'll by you a coffee." Offered Jameson.

The agents sat up at the counter, where a short stocky man with a stained apron approached them. "What can I get fer ya?" He asked disdainfully knowing full well the men were some kind of law enforcement.

"Two coffees." Requested Henkel, then he flashed his badge. "Can I ask you a few questions.?"

The man shrugged his shoulders. "What ever, bub."

Henkel glanced over at Jameson who realized as well that they probably weren't going to get any answers.

"A man came in here, about four hours ago, with a thick Texan accent. Did he say or do anything that you might have remembered?"

The man shook his head.

"Did you see which way he went?" Questioned Jameson.

"My eyes are not too good anymore." Answered the man as he poured a couple of coffees. "That'll be two bucks."

Jameson paid the man. "Thanks." He looked over at Henkel, "So what now?"

Henkel scratched his head and took a sip of his coffee. "Not a %&#*ing clue, but I know we haven't seen the last of this Wrangler."

Toril had been waiting for Yelena to join them, he knew as well as she that it was going to take a group effort to escape. He had been thinking about Shawn, but considered that if they couldn't get to him, he would at least receive medical attention. He knew they wouldn't hurt him.

He made a quick assessment of the soldiers and knew that they were not Beacon operatives, in fact if he didn't know better he would swear that they acted more like soldiers. Judging by how quick they took down he and Cassius, he was betting they were Marines and that could only mean one thing — Surge.

As curious as Toril was to hear what his old friend had to say, he would rather speak to Vacily on equal terms rather than as his prisoner. He knew that their escape would be a difficult one. If in fact these guys were Marines there would be no pulling back punches or powers, they would all have to go full out.

Toril checked his hands that were bound behind his back. Using a plastic twist tie on him was their first mistake, if they had used normal steel hand cuffs they would have nullified his ability to dematerialize, but it seemed that someone was asleep at the wheel during their briefing.

Each of them had an operative behind them, with a plasma rifle at their backs, while the other three stood at ready awaiting the orders of their Captain while he communicated with the Colonel.

The Captain listened intently, nodded then gave a, "Yes, sir." He turned around and pointed to two of his men.

"Take the young man outside." He ordered and the two men immediately hauled Cassius to his feet and proceeded to take him out of the cabin. "Pagan and Chaos are on the way with two humvees, secure the young man in once of them."

The Captain then approached, Yelena and Toril. "Now. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Where is the meta-human known as Killswitch?"

Toril took a calming breath. It was now or never. Two more soldiers had just left with Cassius leaving five men to deal with and he knew the odds were not going to get any better.

The Captain became quickly agitated by their silence and charged up his plasma rifle. "Better speak up. 'Cause I God damn guarantee you're not gonna like the hard way."

In the blink of an eye, Toril vanished, but the soldiers had remembered enough about his meta-ability to know that electricity would still damage him in his wind form. The one behind Toril fired his plasma rifle in the open air and the burst struck the floor and ricocheted across the room. Toril had just managed to clear the path of the blast and in one rage filled attack send a blast of telekinetic force and winds that radiated out from his body, making him corporeal for that moment.

Just as the soldiers caught a glimpse of Toril floating along the ceiling above them, they and Yelena were struck by a force that knocked them off their feet, leaving them sprawled on the floor. Descending then, Toril could only blast the Captains rifle away from him with a concentrated jet of wind before he engaged the two soldiers that had been knocked to the other side of the room in hand to hand combat. Yelena would be forced to deal with three Marines with arms bound behind her back while Toril attempted to finish off the other two.

Momentarily disoriented the soldiers reached for their guns while they sluggishly scrambled to their feet. Only the Captain would be weaponless unless he drew his side arm or ran into the next room to retrieve his weapon. Yelena only had seconds before they armed themselves.

Tim saw the young woman dart out into the street, right in front of him, as his headlights illuminated her, and scoop up the small dog. He down shifted to first and slammed on the brakes, causing the custom black Mustang to slide sideways down the street, stopping two feet in front of her as the other dogs ran out into the street to create what looked like a shield around her.

Tim unbuckled his harness and jumped out of the car. “Damn nation gurl, ya tryin’ ta git yurself kilt or sumptu’ “ he said “Ya alright thar ma’am?”

Before she could answer three young Hispanic men stepped out of an alley and approached Tim and the young woman.

“Say homey, nice ride.....I think you should give me the keys and that bitch too.” one of them said

A second one circled around behind Tim and said “Yah homes you do that and maybe we let you go. After you gives us your money.”

Tim turned around and stood between the gang bangers and the young woman.

“Well now reckon you boys had outta just go on home ta yur momma now, fur somebody gits hurt.” Tim said as he reached in his jacket and pulled out the two forty caliber semi automatics in the time it took to blink. He then said to the young woman “Come on ma’am lets mosey over ta the car and ya get in and fasten yur seatbelt. Whilst these hombres get on the ground and kiss the concrete.”

One of the young men took a defiant step towards Tim as he started to reach behind him. Tim placed two shots in the young man’s groin. Then pointed the pistols at the other two men., aiming between their eyes “I said git on the ground peckerwoods.”

They immediately fell to the ground as the young woman walked to the car and slid in the passengers seat. Tim reached down and grabbed the gun the wounded Hispanic had in his belt. Tim stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket then as he walked by the two men on the ground he shot them one each in the ankle. Walked calmly to the drivers side of the car, slid in the seat, shut the door, slipped the hoodlums gun out of his belt, tossed it in the back seat and fastened his safety harness. As he started to drive off two middle aged men, who had been standing in the doorways of their row houses, waved at Tim and gave him a thumbs up, then walked down their steps and over to the three wounded hoodlums. They each gave one of them a kick in the head and drug them into the alley.

Tim started the car and said “The name’s Tim Rutherford ma’am I reckon it best if we skidaddle outa here fur the cops show up an start askin’ lots a awkward questions. Where a headed ma'am?” Then he and the young woman drove on down Bergan, when the young woman didn't answer, Tim turned left on sixth Ave and headed north to Atlantic Ave. He then turned left onto Atlantic Avenue and drove west to Boerum Place and Adams Street turned right and headed northwest across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Tim, glanced quickly over at Morgan and said "Shucks Miss Shephard, ya don't owe me a thang. I'm goin upstate ta Troy and yur most welcome ta ride along fur as long as ya have a hankerin' ta. I have a couple of horses boarded up thar that I needs ta attend ta." Tim gave Morgan a warm smile and returned his attention to driving thru the streets of lower Manhattan.

"Yep I sur did Miss Morgan and right purdy they are." Tim said "Ya hungry Miss Morgan? I knowd a right good all night grill up the road a piece. Friend of mine owns it, makes the best damned burgers and fries in the city, we can git somethin to carry out if ya like."

Henkel was nearly finished his coffee when his PDA went off and knew who it was right away by the ring tone. Jameson recognized the haunting tones of the Rolling Stones' 'Paint it Black' and new it was his ex-wife calling.

"Yeah." Answered Simon not bothering to inform her of the time or that he was in the middle of a case, it never seemed to matter anyway.



Jameson tried not pay any attention to the dialog but it was difficult not to be amused by Henkel's mono-syllabic responses and get caught up in trying to predict when he would simply hang up.

Henkel was beginning to glaze over as he listened to his wife belly ache about how his daughter was turning out for the fifth time this week and how it was all because he was never around. Thankfully another call came in and he regretfully told the mother of his children that he had no choice but to take the call.

"Thank you, Jesus!" Henkel exclaimed as he checked his message. His eyes widened and he sprang out of his seat. "Let's roll, Jameson."

Henkel got into the passenger side and tossed the keys to Jameson. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Bergen Street and step on it."

By the time, Henkel and Jameson had reached their destination the last ambulance containing one of the Hispanic gangsters was pulling away and the cops had just finished taking their statements. They walked up to one of he officers and flashed their badges.

"So what happened here officer?" Asked Henkel.

The officer explained what he and his partner encountered when he came on the scene, but they had showed up long after the perp had left and when asked about his statements the officer just shook his head regrettably.

"They're not saying nothin' agent Henkel. You have to understand, what this guy did was a favor to these people. They put up with these parasites every night and they're not going to say shit about anyone who stands up to them." Explained the cop.

"Thank you, officer." Mentioned Henkel, then turning back to his partner he just shook his head. "What the hell is going on, Jameson?" He exclaimed, "We're supposed to be the good guys, not this vigilante." Henkel sighed, then checked the time. "We'll check into a motel around here and wait and see if anything else happens tonight."