Superbullet

Part One: A Very Bad Day

"oes this belong to you?"

The man on Emma Henderson's front porch thrust a mass of squirming brown fur at her, causing Emma to yelp and back up from the screen door.

"I'm sorry," said the man. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"That's okay..." Emma glanced down to make sure the door was still locked. The man on the other side of it was a stranger. The dog he was holding was not.

"Oh, that's Scotty!" Emma almost opened the door to pet the dog, but then thought better of it. "He's belongs to that Wilson boy.. down the street there." She pointed at the house two lots down, on the opposite side of the street.

"Oh, good," said the stranger, turning to leave. "I'll take him over there, then. Thanks."

"Ummm, do I know you? Do you live around here?"

"No," the man turned back around. Emma couldn't see his eyes through his dark sunglasses, but she could feel them looking at her. She didn't like glasses like that. She didn't like men whose eyes she couldn't see. "I was just in the area... looking at that house for sale down there." The stranger pointed to the house at the end of the block, recently put up for sale by the owners. "Saw this little fella running around loose and figured I'd try to find his family."

"Oh, well that's very nice. That boy would just die if something happened to that puppy."

"Is that a fact..." The stranger smiled. It was a friendly smile... and Emma felt a twinge of guilt for her thoughts earlier. "I'd better hustle on over there, then. Nice meeting you!"

"Nice meeting you, too!" Emma waved at the stranger... then watched him walk across the street to the Wilson house. She made a mental note to call Phillys Wilson and ask her what SHE thought of their potential new neighbor. He seemed nice enough... in an odd sort of way.

Emma went back to the kitchen to finish breakfast.

"Who was that?" Bernie Henderson called from the bathroom. He opened the door slightly to listen.

"Scotty got loose again," Emma called back. "Some fella found him and was trying to bring him back."

"So why'd he come HERE!?"

"Oh, go back to what you were doing, you paranoid old fart!"

"I'm NOT old!" Bernie slammed the bathroom door, but then opened it up again a few seconds later. "Dog have his collar on?"

Emma thought for a moment.

"Yes," she said. "Why?"

"'Cause the tag has GOT the damned address on it! What... the guy couldn't READ or somethin? He illiterate? Eh?"

"Maybe he didn't think to look at the collar," Emma said in a crisp, annoyed tone. "Not everybody is as thorough as you, Bern... now shut the door."

"Uh-huh..." Bernie closed the bathroom door, and Emma went back to breakfast. "Sure..."

"ey, Jason, look at THIS one..." Ashley turned the newspaper around so that Jason could see it. Jason ignored it and continued scanning the increasing flow of pedestrians on the street. It was almost noon. The sidewalks weren't crowded yet, but they would soon be packed as the lunchtime rush went into full swing. Jason's eyes skipped rapidly from person to person, remaining fixed just long enough to examine each pedestrian's aura before moving on.

"Jason?"

"I'm working," Jason said curtly.

"Yeah... working on your third plate of lasagna." Ashley pointed at Jason's plate. Al's Italian Outdoors had the best lasagna on the planet, and an outdoor deck from which Jason and Ashley could keep their eye on the crowd. They also had a lunchtime businessman's buffet... which Jason had descended upon like a starving barbarian horde.

"Road trip to hell," Jason said without taking his eyes off the crowd. "Literally. Followed by a crazed doctor with a demonic sidekick and a Jason Brooks clone... and THEN we get arrested and spend three nights in jail. I think I've earned an appetite, don't you?"

"Well I hope you've earned a gym membership somewhere along the way, because if you keep eating like that, you're gonna need one."

"It's just lasagna."

"All those carbs?"

"Mmmmmm..." Jason said in a Homer Simpson voice. "Carrrrrrbs."

"Want me to get you some more?"

"No thanks; I'm good." Jason frowned at a man on the sidewalk walking in their direction. "But HE is not."

"Oh?" Ashley turned around and followed Jason's gaze. "Gray suit? Bad tie? Crappy hairpiece?"

"Yeah."

Ashley's eyes lost focus for a second... then:

"Lawyer."

"Hmmm, that explains the aura."

"Demonic?"

"No, just kind of... lawyer-ish."

"No demons?"

"No demons." Jason took another bite of lasagna. "No sign of the doctor. Yet."

"Okay, since you're busy, just listen to this one," Ashley turned the paper back around and found what she'd been trying to show Jason earlier. "Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, den, living room and... get this... indoor fitness area. You like? I wonder if that means a pool-"

"Too small."

"Small!? There's only four of us... and Donovan doesn't need his own room, so we'd have one to spare."

"I need an extra room for my hardware-"

"Like you need an entire room for your one laptop. C'mon, be real."

"Laptop. Two desktops. Server, CD-tower and networking equipment. Monitors. Laser Printer. Scanner-"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Geek."

"Donovan wants a room for some kind of library. Sebastian'll probably want a room to throw swords around in. And we need some kind of basement that I can convert into a shooting range. Six bedrooms. At least."

"Shooting range?"

"Yeah."

"What.... you need to PRACTICE all of a sudden?"

Jason shrugged and finished off his lasagna in two bites.

"Keep looking," he mumbled.

"Why is it MY job to find us a place? How come Donovan can't look?"

"Because Donovan can't turn the pages."

"Then why does he need a LIBRARY!?"

"You know... that's a damn good question."

An annoying, electronic warble sounded from the pocket of Jason's shirt. Jason retrieved a small earpiece from his pocket and nudged it into his left ear.

"Yo."

"nything?" Sebastian stood motionless at the edge of the rooftop, one foot propped up on the ledge, staring down at the blind alley below. Donovan Wilde stood beside him in a nearly identical pose... with a nearly identical expression of intense study on his slightly transparent face. There was no movement below, except for the stray cat that had wandered in to find a meal.

Sebastian didn't trust the cat, but there was no reason to kill it just yet. Unless Donovan said otherwise.

"Nothing yet," Jason replied. Sebastian held the cellphone to his ear with one hand while the other rested lightly on his sword. "You?"

Below, the stray cat sniffed the brick wall at the end of the alley... then quickly sprinted away as if startled.

Sebastian and Donovan both frowned in unison.

"Sebastian?" said Jason's voice over the phone.

"Nothing's come through here." Sebastian replied. "Are you sure there's nothing on the street?"

"Positive."

"What about the cars?" Donovan asked. "Demons can drive just as well as humans. Probably better..."

"Are you checking the cars?" said Sebastian.

"I said there's nothing here, didn't I? The only thing suspicious out here is the look me and Ashley are getting from this elderly couple in the corner. I think they think we're together."

"You are together," said Sebastian.

"No, TOGETHER together..."

...confused silence...

"Never mind."

"Keep looking." Sebastian started to hang up, but Jason interrupted him.

"Has it occurred to you that they know we're watching their front door? The demon you saw had to know you spotted it. Maybe he spread the word to all his buddies... this portal is closed until further notice."

"It isn't closed; it just hasn't been used. You felt it this morning-"

"Yeah, but that could have been the bean burrito I had for dinner."

"It's still here. I can feel it. Something is going to come through eventually... and I'll be here when it does."

"Oh, so now YOU'RE the one with the magic powers? When did that happen?"

"Just keep looking."

"Hey-" There was a brief conversation on the other side of the phone. "Ashley wants to know if you liked your linquini."

There was half-finished plate of pasta beside Sebastian's left boot. The rats and roaches hadn't found it yet.

"Had better," said Sebastian.

"You should have had the lasagna. Man, I'm tellin' you-"

Sebastian hung up and put the phone back into his pocket.

"Amazing he's lasted so long," Sebastian said after a moment.

"He's saved your life a time or two," Donovan replied. "For which I am grateful even if you aren't. I'm starting to think he's got what it takes."

"He should show it more often. He acts like a child; I still don't understand why you chose him."

"I didn't," Donovan said, taking his eyes off the alley below for the first time. He looked at his son. "The Gifts choose who wields them. If you had been there, there's no guarantee that... that they would have picked you over him."

"Over a decade of training. How does that make me less worthy than... some stranger?"

"The nature of the Gifts and how they pass on is... something Luther didn't get a chance to explain before he was taken. But I'm beginning to understand it more now. I don't know how... I just do. It isn't strength or skill or knowledge that determine the next Knight. Those are traits of the body and mind, and I think the Gifts look for something else. Something in the heart."

"Heart," Sebastian nearly growled the word. "You mean 'soul'."

"Maybe."

"So you're saying I can never be a Knight, because I don't have a soul."

"You have a soul-"

"Not a whole one. The Gifts wouldn't have chosen me because I'm tainted..."

Sebastian was still looking down into the alley; but now he wasn't seeing it. The scene below became a blur of gray and red.

"...damaged."

"Sebastian, I don't know if what I said is true or not. It's just the feeling that I have-"

"The only thing I ever..." Sebastian began. He stopped, and didn't say anything else.

"Sebastian, are you all right?"

"Fine," Sebastian whispered. "I'm fine."

"ey, don't forget to cut the edges off my sandwich like I like 'em... you forgot last time!"

Emma leaned out of the kitchen and pointed a long, bony finger at her husband. Bernie was stretched out on the sofa, remote control clutched firmly in hand.

"Just because its YOUR day off, doesn't mean I have to slave for you!" said Emma. "I fixed you breakfast, now I got my own things to do!"

"That being said..." said Bernie. "DON'T forget to cut my sandwiches like I like 'em!"

"Oh, I'll cut 'em all right..."

A round of fierce chopping sounds emanated from the kitchen. When Emma emerged, she carried a plastic tray upon which the shredded remains of a baloney and cheese sandwich were carefully arranged. She dropped the tray on Bernie's lap.

"Eat up," she said before sitting down in her chair. "And stop flippin' the damn channels; find something to watch and leave it there."

"What's this!?" The sandwich on his plate had been sliced into pieces, each no bigger than his fingernail.

"You act like a baby, I figured I'd cut your food up like a baby's. You want me to chew it for you, too?"

"Ha! HA!" Bernie laughed sarcastically. "Very funny. Here I am, pulling dead bodies out of holes for the past four days, and I figure I could get a little appreciation from my wife on my day off! But noooo..."

"I appreciate you Bernie," said Emma. "Now shut up and eat your lunch."

"Hey," Bernie said between bites... each word Emma a perfect view of the food in his mouth. "I got a call from some reporter yesterday. Said he wants to do a story 'bout that cop me and Clyde found in that hole."

"Oh? I didn't know there WAS a story."

"Me neither," Bernie continued. "But this guy seems to think that-"

KEEK!

Something hit the window. Before Emma could turn to see what it was-

zzZZZIK!
SPLATCH-

Bernard Henderson's head split down the center and erupted in a volcanic fountain of red.

The image had barely registered on Emma's startled eyes when-

-kzzZZZIK!
SPLUTCH!

-Blood splattered the wall behind her. Emma's head snapped back with such force that the entire chair tumbled over backward and deposited her on the floor, where her shocked, wide, and very dead eyes continued to stare up at the ceiling...

"o what's the scaredest you've ever been?"

Officer Dean Lewis smiled at the question. He got it a lot... especially from the younger kids. He didn't mind answering it, even though he was technically supposed to stick to the agenda. He was here to talk about drug-awareness, not to entertain a classroom of 7th graders with tales of his not-so-daring exploits.

"Well, heh, heh..." he said. He flashed a charming smile at the teacher. She smiled back.

"Yeah!" a student in the back of the room blurted. "Did you see the demon dog!"

"No, I was on disability when all that happened," Lewis said. His finger rose unconsciously to the scar on his forehead, as if checking to see if it was still there. It was. "...but I saw something a lot scarier than that."

"REEALY?" A girl in the front gasped.

"Yeah. Wasn't too long before the whole dog thing. How many of you kids have been to the mall?"

They all raised their hands.

"Anybody remember that old sporting goods store that used to be out there? Not the one in the mall, but the big one out beside it."

"The place that blew up!" the loud kid in the back shouted, earning him a stern glance from the teacher.

"Thaaats, right," said Officer Lewis. "That's the one. I was there the night that happened; and I'll tell ya that's the most scared I've ever been in my life!"

"REEEALLY!" the cute girl in the front. "Policemen get scared, too!?"

"Yes we do. Let me tell you what happened-"

In the entire history of organized education, NO middle-school classroom has EVER been completely quiet. Someone was always whispering, or murmuring, or snoring, or scratching, or.... but at this historic moment, Ms. Jandrickson's 7th grade English class was stone silent.

It didn't last long.

A bolt of raucous laughter erupted from the classroom next door, spoiling the moment of suspense.

"-excuse me, Mr. Lewis," said the teacher. "I'll shut the door."

The teacher got up and, without taking her big brown eyes off of Lewis, reached out and pushed the door. It swung closed, but before it shut completely-

zzZZZIK!

"EEEK!" The girl in the front row... who was sitting closest to the door... jumped up and began waving her arms and screaming. "BEE! BEEEE! There's a BEEEEE-"

Everyone turned to look at her.

Officer Dean Lewis dropped suddenly to the floor.

The top of his skull rose in a beautiful arc just high enough to kiss the classroom's ceiling... then fell back to earth in a shower of red and gray chunks.

The terrified screams of thirty children and one teacher signaled an early, unscheduled end to the school day.

"oesn't matter if you're on death's door or turning cartwheels down main street, you're still on suspension!"

"Captain," Marilyn said calmly. Too calmly. "It's over. The whole thing with Phillips and the murder charge... that's over and done. Why-"

"Over since YESTERDAY, Dobbs! You've gotta give the smoke a chance to clear before you come barging back in demanding your badge back!"

"Smoke?" Dobbs wanted to jump out of her chair... but she didn't. "THERE IS NO &$@% SMOKE! The only smoke around here is the cloud of BULLSHIT your blowing at me right now!!"

"Dobbs..."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"And so am I. Look, if I could just snap my fingers and bring you back in, I'd do it."

"Why can't you? You're the captain."

"There's a lot of talk, Dobbs. A lot of questions from people a lot higher up the food chain than me. First they think you killed a guy... then he turns up alive. THEN he goes missing, and YOU turn up all buddy-buddy with a man you were investigating for murder-"

"We're not buddies."

"You spin some story that NOBODY in their right mind would believe... but then, miracle of miracles, they BELIEVE it! C'mon, Dobbs, this whole scenario stinks and you know it. Officially, and for a reason I have yet to understand, Internal Affairs is leaving it alone. But 'unofficially' they're watching you, me, and this entire department. YOU never had any friends over at IA, Dobbs... and now those non-friends are just waiting for you to screw up one more time."

"So?" said Dobbs. "F@$#K 'em."

"So the BEST thing for you to do, Dobbs, is..." Gavin took a deep breath. "You ever think about retiring, Dobbs?"

"WHAT?"

"Calm down. Calm down and listen to me for a minute. I want you back on the force more than anybody, but the reality is that you're tainted goods now. It would be better for everybody... especially you... if you-"

"Disappeared?"

"Yes."

"And do what?"

"Raise your daughter, for one. I know your ex has custody-"

"ONLY while I was locked up. I'm not locked up any more, and I'm picking her up this afternoon... as if that's any of your business."

"There's still the lawsuit. I think the court might be more inclined to see things your way if you... I dunno, did something a little less demanding."

"Like what? Serving hot-dogs to teenagers at football games? For minimum wage? Is THAT where you want to see me?"

"I'm just trying to get you to see this from all angles, Dobbs."

"See WHAT, exactly? Are you firing me?"

"No."

"You're just trying to convince me to leave on my own. That it?"

"Well... yes."

"And if I don't."

"You're still on suspension. And you probably will be for a while. The department just can't take the scrutiny of having you back so soon. Now, I shuffled the papers and your suspension is officially a 'medical leave'. You stay home and let that leg heal-"

"I already told you... I can get around just fine."

"On crutches. And you're SUPPOSED to be in a wheelchair. You can't be a cop on crutches, Dobbs."

"So that's the excuse you're using?"

"Yes, that's the excuse I'm using."

"Does it work for you, too? YOU got shot twice! Both shoulders blown straight to hell! You can't even raise your arms and YOU'RE back on the job, so how-"

"I'm not a detective. My job consists solely of making decisions... which I can still do just fine. Believe me, I'd MUCH rather be at home watching TV instead of here dealing with-"

zzZZZIK!

Captain Gavin jerked in his seat. Something splattered across Marilyn's face. Dobbs recoiled from the sudden wet warmth, hand reaching instinctively for the gun that... that she'd left in the car.

"Ca-" she began. Captain Gavin slumped forward in his chair. There was a hole in the wall behind him, and a matching one... ringed in blood... in the back of his skull. The exit wound was a lot less neat: The bloody wet chasm that had been Captain Gavin's face dropped mercifully out of sight as his head hit the desk.

"CAPTAIN!!"

"mmm, yummy." Ashley shoveled another plastic spoon-full of chocolate eclair into her mouth. "Maaaaan, I love chocolate."

"I noticed," said Jason.

"Hey, you said it... demon-hunting is a hungry business!"

"You're not hunting demons; you're looking for new digs, remember?"

"Well they got nothing in the paper."

"We've gotta find something... I'm not gonna work out of a hotel for the rest of my life. However long that is."

"I know I'm gonna regret this... but... we could all stay at my place."

"The trailer?"

"Just until we found-... uh-oh."

Ashley was looking at something behind Jason.

"What is it?" Jason said without turning to look.

"Reporter."

"Huh?"

Jason turned around.

A slightly overweight middle-aged man was winding his way through the small maze of tables toward them. He had a briefcase in one hand, and a mini-tape recorder in the other.

"Hello?" he called when he was still three tables away. "Hello, Mr. Brooks?"

"Should we leave?" asked Ashley.

"Probably," Jason stood up. The reporter redoubled his efforts to squeeze through the tables. When Jason turned, the reporter's chubby face appeared directly in front of his. Jason jerked backward, and the reporter leaned in, shoving the recorder at him-

"Are you Mr. Jason Broo-"

zzZZZIK!

Something zipped past Jason's ear-

CAK!

The left side of the reporter's head exploded. Blood and speeding chunks of flesh showered the table next to them as the reporter lurched to the side, dropped his briefcase and then collapsed on top of it.

Before the screams... before the panic... before the mad rush for the door...

...there was a brief instant in which the world seemed to just...stop. It lasted only a fraction of a second, but that tiny fragment of time was all it took-

Jason saw the man's head coming apart in front of him. Even before the body began to drop, Jason's hand was reaching for the .357 revolver tucked into the small of his back. His head turned away from the falling corpse, eyes following an invisible line through the air-

Jason's brain calculated the exact vector of the shot, reconstructing the bullet's path from peripheral memory... tracing it back to it's source...

Intersection. Dark blue pick-up truck. Tinted windows.

The world started moving again.

The truck's tires screeched as the vehicle spun around the corner and vanished down the connecting street.

The first person screamed.

Jason sprinted for the edge of the deck and sprang over the cheap wooden railing.

The second and third persons screamed.

The rest of the crowd joined in the rising chorus of terrified cries. Over forty people leapt from their chairs and tried to run for cover at the same time. Some dove under the cheap plastic tables. Others trampled each other trying to get inside.

"JASON!" Ashley shouted.

"CALM THESE PEOPLE DOWN BEFORE SOMEBODY ELSE DIES!" Jason replied. He ran out into traffic with his gun drawn, but the truck was just moving out of sight. He knew there was no way he could catch it. Jason snatched the cell-phone from his pocket and pushed the second button.

"What?" said Sebastian.

"BLUE TRUCK! TAKE IT DOWN! I WANT THE DRIVER ALI-"

Sebastian hung up.

"ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Hank howled along with the music blaring from the speakers. The stereo was brand new. The music was classic Metallica. The truck was 15mph over the speed limit on a small side street, but Hank didn't give a damn. The oversized subwoofers under the seats rumbled angrily and punched Hank in the buttocks with every drum-beat.

"HELL YEAH!" he shouted into the silence between the songs. As the next one began, Hank glanced at the speedometer. 15mph over had become 25... and the police station was around here somewhere. He thought about slowing down, but the next song started and his mind shifted to more important things, like which of his friends he was going to make jealous first-

He saw it out of the corner of his eye.

The small portion of his brain that was not completely immersed in Metallica identified it as a bird.

By the time he realized that it was too big and too fast to be a pigeon, his mind was already busy with the SECOND realization:

It was coming right for him.

"WHA-"

The shrieking protest of violated metal... the shattering of glass and the snapping of plastic... the high-pitched squeal of a grown man wetting his pants... all these merged into a single indescribable sound that Hank missed entirely. He knew... he KNEW... that he'd managed to turn the wheel at the last second and veer away from the WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?!!? He KNEW it, just as sure as he knew the name of the song playing on the stereo-

But then a long metal shaft tore through his hood at a 60-degree angle, skewered (and destroyed) his steering column, impaled the driver's seat mere inches short of Hank's testicles... and then continued on to pierce the expensive subwoofer on the floor, silencing it forever. The ruined steering column shorted out with a bright spark and brief puff of smoke. The short-circuit fried the electrical system just as the severed steering wheel came free in Hank's grasp and the truck's engine coughed... coughed again... and died.

The truck coasted out of control until Hank's startled reflexes brought his foot down on the brake. The truck started to spin, but managed to come to a halt before it could side-swipe the lamp post looming ahead of it.

Hank looked down at the medieval longsword that had just missed his manhood.

Then he heard the metallic rattling of someone coming down a fire escape. He followed the sound to its source.


"Oh, fu-"

Hank threw the driver's door open and scrambled free of the truck, but the sword protruding from the seat slowed him down. He felt it press against something delicate, and had to eaaaaaaase his way past it... heart pounding louder with every inch. When he was out, the maniac with the sword was already there.

"HELLLPPP!!"

Hank ran. He put his back to the approaching lunatic and sprinted for Main Street. Ahead, he saw someone else turning the corner and heading his way. He caught a glimpse of brown skin, and the glint of sunlight on a gun.

"HELP ME!" Hank shouted to his rescuer. "HEL-"

A black boot somehow found its way in between Hank's speeding feet. Hank pitched forward...

...but his head snapped back as something caught him from behind. By the hair.

"AAAA-"

The crazed lunatic with the sword yanked him backward and thrust him back toward the truck. Hank wouldn't have recognized a front-snap kick to the chin even if he HAD seen it coming. But he didn't. All he felt was several teeth shattering and the front left corner of his tongue flapping around in his mouth after he'd bitten it off.

Then his chest exploded. He'd never had broken ribs before, but a spinning side-kick remedied that quite easily... and it also threw Hank against the wall, where the sword-throwing maniac grabbed him by the neck and began... not to choke him... but to CRUSH his throat in his bare hand.

"...-K-..."

Hank's face turned blue, and his neck turned bright purple as the bruises radiated from Sebastian's fist.

"This the one?" said Sebastian.

The other man... the one with the gun... had arrived.

"Yeah. Let him breath."

Sebastian's fingers unwrapped themselves from Hank's throat. Hank collapsed across Sebastian's boots, gasping for enough breath to scream.

"...hhhh....hhhhh...hhhhh... pleeeeeease... take the truck!" Blood drooled out of Hank's mouth. "...hhhh....Just take it! PLEASE don't kill me! Pleee-heee-heee-heeeease!"

"You think we want the truck!?" said Jason.

"...hhhh...th...this is about Angellica, ain't it. Look... look, man, I SWEAR I didn't know she was 15! I SWEAR to GOD I didn't know! She said she as 19, man! PLEASE don't-"

"Shut up. And hold still."

Jason crouched down and extended his hand as if to grab Hank's shoulder... but his fingers stopped a few inches away.

"Hmmmmm...."

"What!" Hank tried to crawl away. "What are you doing!?" Sebastian grabbed him by the hair and dragged him closer to Jason's hand... then encouraged him to stay still with a gentle kick to the kidney.

"Uh-oh," said Jason. He stood up.

"What?"

"He didn't do it."

"Didn't do what?"

"There was a reporter back at the restaurant. Someone blew his head off. Sniper. Bullet came from this guy's truck."

"I didn't shoot nobody! I SWEAR!"

"He's telling the truth," said Jason. "He didn't do it. But..."

Jason walked over to the truck and looked in.

"...it HAD to be this truck. HAD to be. The bullet came..."

Jason looked more and more confused with every word.

"...uhhh... hmmm..."

"Is he a demon or not?" Sebastian snapped.

"No. Let him go."

Sebastian released his fist-full of Hank's hair. Hank didn't move. The wet stain on the concrete beneath him began to spread.

"Is that the guy!?" Ashley jogged toward them, out of breath and with a smudge of chocolate still decorating the corner of her mouth. "Is that the guy!?"

She looked at Hank...

"...that's not the guy."

"No," said Jason.

"If someone's been shot, let the police handle it," said Sebastian. "Its not our concern."

"It is if they were aiming for ME!" said Jason. "That guy was right in front of me when he got hit. That bullet was meant for MY head, not his."

"Then your sniper isn't a very good shot," said Sebastian. He leaned into Hank's truck and yanked his sword out of the ruined seat. Police sirens sounded nearby. They were getting closer. More sirens rose in the distance.

"So this guy doesn't have anything to do with it?" said Ashley. "Nothing at all?"

"No." Jason stood over Hank and stared down at him. "But you DID know she was only 15, didn't you."

"No, no, I-"

"Yes. You did."

"okay... okay, please-... please don't tell the cops!"

"I won't if you won't," said Jason. "Looks like you had a pretty bad accident. Might want to get yourself checked out. Might also want to stop cruising the high-schools, or my friend here might pay you another visit."

"O-o-okay, s-s-sure."

"I'll be back at the alley," Sebastian started back toward the fire escape.

"C'mon, Ashley," said Jason. "Let's see what we can find out from the police. Sounds like they..."

The police sirens screamed louder, and several patrol cars zoomed past them on the main street-

-heading AWAY from Al's Italian Outdoors.

"Jason... why aren't they stopping?"

"I-"

A second set of sirens howled a few streets away. A third siren sounded even further still. All of them were moving, but none of them were getting any closer.

A police helicopter flew over the street. It didn't land... or circle... or even slow down. It was going somewhere FAST.

More patrol cars raced down main street. They seemed to be following the first group of cars, but suddenly they veered away, heading in a completely different direction. Toward the school.

"Jason..." Ashley said slowly.

Two news helicopters crisscrossed in the sky overhead. A third followed a few seconds later.

"Jason?" Jason hadn't answered. His grim face was aimed at the sky.

The shrill warble of ambulance sirens began to blare all around them.

"...what's happening?"

"...illed today in a what police are calling a coordinated series of attacks, all timed to occur at the stroke of noon. Police are still withholding much of the information that they DO have, but a preliminary list of victims has been released to the press. Among the dead are two police officers. Precinct Captain Terrance Gavin was shot dead in his office while speaking with an as-yet unidentified person. Officer Dean Lewis was killed in a middle-school classroom in front of thirty children and their teacher, all of whom were severely traumatized by physically unharmed. Oddly enough, both officers had been injured in the line of duty in recent months, with Captain Gavin having been released from hospital care only yesterday. Also listed among the victims is Bethany Mills, whom you may remember from THIS story a few weeks ago:

"...came into my room and put his hands on me. I was asleep, but I woke up and saw him. I saw them both... two angels, they were. An old man and a little boy. The man... I could feel his hands inside my body, taking my cancer away. But it didn't hurt. It didn't hurt at all. The boy stood at the foot of my bed and watched. I think... I think he was keeping me calm while the other angel did God's work. I saw both their beautiful faces..."

"...Mills was one of almost a hundred 'miracle cures' experienced at local hospitals. Her terminal case of gastro-intestinal cancer vanished overnight, but it appears her rescue from certain death was only a brief respite, as she was shot dead in her back yard at exactly 12:01 this afternoon... an event witnessed by her two young grandchildren-"

"-My God, what is this world coming to!" Madan Patel pointed at the tiny television perched on the edge of the counter and turned to his nephew. "Are you seeing this!? Have you heard the news!?"

"I heard it in the car." Rafat yawned, walked around the counter, and plopped down in the chair behind his uncle's desk. "Terrible. This is what happens when people walk around with guns. Someone has one too many bad days, and they just snap-"

"This is more than just a someone!" Madan waggled a tan finger at his nephew. "Six people... all at the same time! And they even shoot the policeman IN HIS OFFICE! It took a lot of people to do this. This was planned, I tell you!"

"Great, that is ALL we need!" Rafat scowled. "MORE terrorism! More people blaming US for something we had nothing to do with-"

The lobby doors opened and a solitary figure struggled in. The weather outside was perfectly clear, but the man's yellowish hair was soaking wet, as were the collar and front of his light blue shirt. Dark sunglasses obscured the man's eyes, but the tight folds of skin peeking out from under the shades told of a deep, squinting, pained expression. He carried three bags... one was a metal briefcase clutched tightly in his right hand. The other was a simple backpack slung over one slightly-hunched shoulder. The third...

...was a long, rectangular case. Hard black plastic with metal trim. It had a heavy look about it. Heavy, and dangerous. It dangled precariously from the stranger's curled fingers, waiting for the slightest jolt or jostle to sent it tumbling to the floor.

The stranger paused in the doorway and eyed the two men behind the counter.

"Are you okay, sir?" Said Madan.

"Fine," the stranger replied. He approached the counter. His stride was quick, yet slightly unbalanced... more so than the odd assortment of bags he carried could account for. He walked... and looked... like a sick man who was trying very hard to look healthy. When he reached the counter, he placed the rectangular case on the floor beside him and reached into his pocket.

"Room..." His voice was a raspy croak. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time managing to sound human. "Room."

"Ahh, yes sir..." Madan shot a cautious glance at his nephew, then grabbed a key from the wall. "Will this be single occupancy or double-"

"Single," the stranger hissed. He cleared his throat once more, but didn't bother saying the word again.

"Very good." Madan placed the key on the counter with a hard 'click' that made the stranger jump... almost. "I will need to see your credit ca-"

"Cash."

The stranger tossed three twenty dollar bills onto the counter beside the key.

"Credit cards are the Mark of the Beast... haven't you boys heard?"

The stranger's lips flickered in a tentative smile.

"Yes, of course..." Madan beamed back at him. He quickly deposited the cash into the register-

Rafat appeared beside him and pushed the guest registry slowly across the counter, as if offering the stranger a plate of tainted food.

"Sign in, please." Rafat's smile wasn't nearly as genuine as Madan's.

"Mmmhmm."

The stranger signed the book. Rafat watched him, and Madan watched Rafat.

"Welcome to the Springs Inn, Mr. Smith," said Madan.

-Plap-

Madan and the stranger both looked down at the same time. A bright red circle of blood sat soaking into the guestbook's open page. A second crimson droplet hung from the tip of the stranger's nose.

"You're bleeding," said Rafat.

"Damn." The stranger snatched a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and pressed it to his nose. The handkerchief was white and crisp... still new. But it had been well used. Red and brown stains dotted the cloth. The red stains were fresh.

"Are you all right?" Madan repeated. "Do you want us to call a hospital for you?"

"No thanks." The stranger picked up his room key and stuffed into the pocket where his bloody handkerchief had been. Then he tucked the handkerchief in on top of it.

He reached down for his oblong case-

His hand found Rafat's fingers instead.

"What are you doing?" the stranger said sharply.

"Helping you with your bags, sir-"

"No. Thanks."

"No, I insist," said Rafat... ignoring Madan's wild-eyed gesturing. He grabbed the stranger's case-

The stranger grabbed Rafat's wrist and forced it away. The man was strong for someone who was so obviously sick.

"So do I," the man said sternly, giving Rafat's wrist a hard squeeze before releasing it.

"Fine." Rafat raised his hands in surrender and stepped back. "Just trying to help."

The stranger picked up the case. His fingers curled protectively around the plastic handle.

"What's in that thing, anyway?" said Rafat.

"Clarinet," the stranger replied. He started toward the elevator. Rafat turned to follow him... but only followed with his eyes. And mouth.

"Did you hear the news on your way into town, sir?"

"Yeah." The stranger pushed the elevator call button. "Why?"

"Terrible thing, yes?"

The stranger didn't reply. He just looked at the elevator doors and waited silently for them to open.

-PLAP-

A drop of blood landed on the floor near his expensive leather shoes.

"Terrible... wouldn't you say, sir?" Rafat said a little louder... and colder.

The elevator doors opened.

"I'd love to chat with you boys," the man said as he stepped into the elevator. "But I really need my rest."

"So early?" said Rafat. He started toward the elevator... his arm swinging out of Madan's reach just as the older man tried to grab him. "The day is still so young! Have you traveled a long way then?"

The stranger gave him a long, slow glance. Somewhere behind those dark sunglasses, a pair of cold eyes scowled-

-PLAP-

The elevator doors started closing.

"Give Osama my regards," said the stranger.

"Osama?! We're INDIAN, you racist bas-"

WHAP!

Madan slapped Rafat across the back of his skull just as the elevator doors met, shielding the stranger from further harassment.

"Why did you hit me!"

"Because you're antagonizing the customers!"

"Antagoni-"

"Carry his bags!? You haven't carried a bag in your LIFE! Why were you treating him in such a way!?"

"He's suspicious..." Rafat tried to whisper and shout at the same time, resulting in a wet hiss. He jerked his eyes toward the elevator. "I think we should call the police!"

"Why? Because a sick man wanted to get his rest?!"

"He was acting strange... and I think he had a gun in that case! A very big one!"

"Rafat-"

"The case was heavy! It was a rifle, I think. A sniper rifle!!! This could be the guy-"

"This could be a man who doesn't like to leave his musical instruments in his car at night!"

"It isn't night yet! And that was a gun, I tell you!"

"Go to lunch, Rafat!" Madan snapped.

"I just CAME BACK from lunch!! It's YOUR turn to go to lunch!"

Madan frowned.

"Right..." he said. "You promise me you will not bother that man. AND you will not bother the police with foolishness!"

Rafat sighed.

"Promise!"

"I promise I won't bother him while you are gone."

"And the police?"

"I do nothing," Rafat raised his hands and walked back behind the counter. A bruise was beginning to form on the wrist that the stranger had grabbed. "I say nothing. Satisfied?"

"Good," With a stern nod, Madan walked out the door... pausing only to shout back: "Clean up while I'm gone. And don't touch my desk!"

A few seconds later, with Madan out of earshot but not yet out of the parking lot, Rafat walked over to the elevator and pulled a small paper napkin from his pocket. He knelt down and carefully placed it over the single drop of blood on the floor. When the paper had soaked up the blood, Rafat picked up the napkin by the corner and carried it back to Madan's desk. He found a piece of plastic to wrap the evidence in.

"No police," he said, watching the closed elevator doors with suspicion. He picked up the phone and looked away from the elevator just long enough to dial a local number from memory. He put the phone to his ear and waited.

On the third ring, someone answered.

"CrimeLabPatel!" The words came so quickly that they all ran together into a single unintelligible blur.

"It's me; Rafat," Rafat replied, in Hindu. "Can you keep a secret?"

"What kind of secret?" Rafat's cousin replied.

"Maybe one that could make us famous..."

"... ecause all HELL has broken loose in this city, and once again you're right in the MIDDLE OF IT!"

The person doing the shouting was Carver Holt... former chief investigator of a case that was now officially closed. He wore a tailored suit that had been made specifically for him two days ago... at a cost that was more than he could possibly afford on his salary.

The person being shouted AT was Marilyn Dobbs... who was about ten seconds away from wrapping her crutch around Holt's skull. Dobbs wore a man's police uniform that was several sizes too small in a few of the more obvious places. She wore it because the clothes she'd left home in were now evidence. And bloody.

"Holt?" she said. "I saw one of my best friends... and a good cop... get his FACE BLOWN OFF RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! You want a statement? I gave you a statement! You want evidence? All of the evidence is right there in Gavin's office! WHAT more do you WANT from me!?"

"Did you have a gun in that office, Dobbs?"

Marilyn met Holt's eyes.

"No," she said.

"Are you sure-"

"Did you FIND one?!"

"Things have a habit of disappearing around you, Dobbs. Guns. Bodies. Evidence. All kinds of things."

"The only gun in that office was the captain's and it had NOT been fired! The shot came from outside! Through the wall!"

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come!" Holt growled. The door opened, and a uniformed officer leaned in.

"Sir, we've got that information you wanted. So far, nothing's connecting the-"

"Then lets go over it, again! YOU stay right here, Dobbs! DON'T move!"

"Yes, sir."

Holt stormed out of his office... stopping only to slam the door... and accompanied the uniformed cop down the hall.

Five seconds later, the door opened again.

"Fancy meetin' you here, Dobbs."

"Royce!"

Detective James Royce closed the door gently behind him, and smiled at Dobbs.

"I would hug you, but-"

Royce's right arm ended in a bandage-covered stump below the elbow. Several fingers of his left hand were also wrapped in gauze, after having been surgically reattached. Royce held out his battered limbs in cruel mockery of a hug. Then he laughed.

Something about that laugh made Dobbs uneasy. Something about it reminded her of the LAST time she'd seen James Royce.

But that had never happened. No matter WHAT Brooks said... it just hadn't happened...

"Royce, I... I don't know what to say."

"Not your fault. I'm just glad I got out of there alive. See... they even drop a building on me and I just keep on ticking! I'm unstoppable! I'm a juggernaut!!! HA!"

"What are you doing here? Don't tell me they let you come back-"

"Same reason YOU are. Came to discuss my career options... or lack therof." Royce held out the stump of his arm. "...and I'm barely in the door when the man I'm here to see gets his head ventilated right in his own office. Guess its just not my day. Or his."

"He wasn't the only one," said Dobbs. "The body-count is at six now. Same story... bullets came out of nowhere. Nobody saw anything."

"Somebody saw something," said Royce. "Somebody always sees something. It's just a matter of finding 'em and gettin' 'em to talk."

"Well I was right here... right there in the room with him and I didn't see a damned thing. Captain's office doesn't even have any WINDOWS, for Gods' sake! That bullet came through a solid brick wall!"

"You think that's something... you know the couple that bought it out in the burbs? I heard the shot came through the window, took out the guy on his sofa, and then went THROUGH him catch the woman in her chair on the other side of the room. That's some fancy shooting, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah."

"I'd say it sounds kinda... familiar. Wouldn't you?"

"Familiar? As in the 'Jason Brooks' kinda familiar?"

"Ya gotta admit, your boyfriend's got the skill."

"So does David Copperfield. He a suspect, too? And he's not my boyfriend."

"David Copperfield wasn't sitting in a restaurant downtown six inches away from victim number 3. Or so I hear."

"Great," Dobbs sighed. "If Brooks is a suspect, then that means I'M a suspect. Again."

"Not really," said Royce. "A dozen people saw Brooks eating lasagna at the same as the other shootings. He ain't our guy... but that ain't to say he isn't mixed up in it some kind of way."

"So where's Brooks now?"

"He hauled ass when the bodies started falling... just like everybody else. Hasn't turned up yet."

"You know a lot for somebody who's not even supposed to be here."

"That's my job."

"Correction, that WAS your job. Mine, too."

"Still on suspension, eh?"

"The permanent kind, I think."

"Well, we'll see if we can take care of that."

"We who?"

"I got friends."

"I don't think I want to owe any favors to any of YOUR friends, Royce."

"Yeah, you probably don't. You get that girl of yours back home yet?"

"I'm supposed to be doing that now. But I'm here. Waiting."

"Go handle your business, Dobbs. Holt doesn't have any reason to hold you here... go do what you gotta do and let ME talk to him. You want me to slap him around a little bit for ya?"

"I wish..."

"I'll do it. Him AND that ex-husband of yours. You just say the word."

Dobbs chuckled.

"You sure know how to cheer a woman up, Royce."

"I aim to please."

"I think I will get out of here."

Marilyn stood up, positioned her crutches underneath her, and hobbled toward the door. Royce held it open for her, and Dobbs stopped in front of him.

"By the way," she said, scowling. "Somebody sent me flowers this morning. Delivered to my house."

"Oh yeah?" Royce said innocently. "Who?"

"Royce, You know I hate flowers."

"That's why I sent 'em." Royce's smile was uncomfortably wide. "Can't have you thinkin' I've gone all soft now, can I?"

"Well thanks," she said. "I guess."

"Do I get a kiss?"

"No, but I can break my foot off in your ass, if you'd like."

"Maybe later. Better get going."

"Right."

Dobbs hobbled down the hallway, leaving Royce behind. He watched her go...

"...'cause if anybody can draw Brooks out of whatever hole he's hiding in," Royce mumbled. "It's you."

he evening rush hour had been intense but brief. At the stroke of five, the office buildings disgorged their human contents, and people ran to their cars... zig-zagging through parking lots and sprinting for commuter busses.... hurrying home to their bolted doors and shuttered windows. Those without the benefit of either huddled in alleys and under bridges, as if the encroaching darkness were a talisman that could somehow protect them.... or turn them invisible... or, even better, make them disappear entirely. At least for a while.

Behind them, they left a ghost town. The sun's last rays had faded only a few minutes ago, but the concrete corridors of downtown Rock Springs were as empty as midnight.

Everything was quiet.

Marilyn Dobbs stood alone on the sidewalk.

The building behind her was not empty, but the buzz and hum of police headquarters was not a welcome sound. Not tonight. What had started as a mid-morning chat had turned into a murder and an all-day interrogation. Captain Gavin... the man who'd hired her, the man who had PERSONALLY invited her to join the Rock Springs PD... was dead. Not just dead... but the UGLY kind of dead that no person deserved... least of all, a cop. And ESPECIALLY not a cop sitting in his own office, minding his own business. Police headquarters was now a crime scene. And Dobbs wasn't invited.

The padded tips of her crutches made no sounds as she hobbled her way to the visitor's parking lot on the east side of the building. Normally, there would be a uniformed officer stationed in the lot, keeping an eye on the vehicles... but cops were in short supply these days. Undeterred, Dobbs...

...stopped walking and waited. A black Ford Expedition sat parked on the opposite side of the street. She hadn't noticed it when she had first stepped outside... and that in itself made her suspicious. The fact that she'd seen it before made her even more uneasy.

The Expedition's engine revved. The SUV pulled out into the street and made a U-turn that almost took it up onto the sidewalk in front of her. The passenger door opened.

"Ever get the feeling you're being watched?" said Jason Brooks. He smiled at her from the driver's seat.

"Hi!" Ashley Ricks waved at her from the back. They were alone. The kid with the swords wasn't with them. Dobbs didn't know if that was good or bad. Probably bad.

"Why am I not surprised," Dobbs sighed.

"Get in."

"What... are you kidnapping me now? I thought we agreed to stay the hell away from each other-"

"You agreed. I just nodded. Get in; we gotta talk."

"You're not mixed up in this, are you Brooks?"

"...well..."

"God help me. You know, I should walk right in that building and-"

"And forget you ever saw us?" said Ashley. "'Cause that's whats gonna happen if you try."

Dobbs studied Ashley and, while the girl was still smiling, it was obvious that she wasn't kidding. Whatever THAT meant.

"Get in," Jason repeated. This time he added: "Please?"

Better judgement told Dobbs to run. But crutches and instinct held her in place long enough to reconsider. She waddled up to the door and pulled herself up onto the seat beside Jason. She closed the door and stashed her crutches in the back seat while Jason started driving.

"You find your doctor friend?" Dobbs asked.

"No sign," said Brooks. "But we'll find him. I SHOULD be looking for him right now, in fact... but when a man got his skull blown open in front of me, I figured there might be more pressing matters to tend to."

"Where are we going? I've got to pick up my daughter, so if you've got something to say-"

"We were hoping YOU would have something to say, seeing as how you're a witness-"

"Witness? How am I a witness?"

"You were in the room with your boss when he got hit. I'm no detective, but I think that qualifies you as a witness."

"That information wasn't released to the press. So how do you know about it?"

"It's hard to keep secrets from psychics," said Ashley.

"We know a lot of things," Jason added. "Me and Ashley have had a busy afternoon trying to find out who the hell tried to kill me. So far all we've got a is lot of scared people... and a lot of things that don't make sense. That's where you come in. We need access to the physical evidence-"

"No, this is where I DON'T come in. I'm not on the case. I'm not even a cop anymore. And even if I WAS, I wouldn't just march in and hand all the evidence over to you just because you asked."

"What do you mean you're not a cop?" said Jason, slightly confused. "They fired you!?"

"They might as well have. The captain was trying to get me to QUIT because the force doesn't want me around. Now that he's dead, I don't stand a chance of getting back in. I'm through. Done. Death by Permanent Suspension. If there was even a PRAYER of me being a cop again, I wouldn't have gotten into this car with you."

"Well you're very calm about it!" said Ashley.

"What am I going to do?" Dobbs pointed to her leg. "... run down the street, kicking people in the face? I just want to go home. I want to get my daughter... who I HOPE still remembers me... and go home. I'll be angry in a few weeks... when I can kick people."

"But you can still help us."

"No, I CAN'T! Weren't you listening? Even if I COULD, I wouldn't. And I CAN'T! And you still haven't told me how all of you are involved in this! I thought you were off killing demons or whatever."

"And that's exactly why I'm involved. Exactly why YOU should be involve whether you're a cop or not."

"And how does that crazy logic of yours work, exactly?"

"The victims are all connected."

"How? No, let me guess... they're all demons, right?"

"No. But they've all been within spitting distance of a few less-than-angelic entities."

"Two cops, a rescue worker and his wife, a cancer survivor and a reporter? How are..."

Dobbs' words trailed off as she answered her own question.

"Get it now? WE connected them. Your captain was front-and-center when my clone attacked the headquarters. Ditto for Lewis when I went up against Brite. The rescue worker was one of the ones who pulled Royce... YOUR partner... a demon... out of the rubble of the building Braxis torched. The woman was one of the few who actually saw Braxis and the kid at the hospital. She was gonna be on Oprah next month, I think. The reporter... hell, I think the reporter took that bullet because I moved at the last second. I stood up... he jumped in front of me... pow."

"Or maybe its all just random."

"You don't believe that."

"The rescue worker is a stretch, Brooks. You should leave the detective work to the pros."

"That's why we came to YOU."

"I'm not-"

"Besides... it's a stretch that fits. I do have another theory about your boss, though."

"And that is?"

"If a man is shooting through a wall, he's got to be using some kind of military grade hardware."

"Any number of assault rifles could shoot through brick. A 50cal, M33-"

"I'm not talking about the gun. I mean what he used to AIM the gun. Thermal imaging. According to Sebastian, that stuff is good for finding warm bodies, but not great for telling which body is which... especially if they're both human. Our guy may have been aiming at you, and just picked the wrong multicolored blob off of his screen. That would explain why he killed the rescue worker AND his wife; he couldn't tell which one was the target-"

"And there's the hole in your theory, right there" said Dobbs. "Snipers are strictly one-shot, one-kill. If there are two targets, you'd need two snipers. Otherwise, by the time you take aim at your second target, all hell has already broken loose. You think that woman just sat there and let him draw a bead on her? No, she was taken at the same time he was. Same bullet-"

"So why aren't YOU dead?" said Jason. "You were sitting across from him. A bullet that goes through a wall and a human skull isn't gonna just stop."

Marilyn didn't answer. She didn't KNOW the answer.

"Did they even FIND the bullet?" said Jason.

"I... don't know."

"That's what we need know if we're gonna figure-"

"You're not going to figure anything out. Not the way you're going. There are DOZENS of other people who saw you... or your clone... or Braxis... or any of the other weirdness you've gotten involved in. All of THEM are still alive."

"So far," said Jason. "But who says this is over? He missed me... and maybe you. He'll try again. Don't you want to stop him before we find out who ELSE is on his list?"

"I want to, but I can't," said Dobbs.

"You still know people in the department... some of the detectives. All you need to do is get Ashley close enough to read 'em, and maybe get us access to the evidence. We'll check out the crime scenes ourselves tonight. With a little more information, we'll have-"

"No, and no! And why are you people insisting that you NEED me!? You want to play your paranoid fantasy games, then do it BY YOURSELVES!"

"We will," said Jason. "We're doing the good-guys a favor, here... namely: you. We can walk into that building and take what we want, but I thought I'd try it the easy way first."

"There IS no 'easy way' with you, Brooks! If you're telling me you're gonna have your boy break into police headquarters and trash some more evidence, then go right ahead and DO it! You have my blessing... I can't help you OR stop you, so just do what you want! And let me out of this car!"

Dobbs was shouting now... for no apparent reason. Ashley leaned forward and tapped Jason on the shoulder. He looked back, and she shook her head solemnly.

"All right," said Brooks, holding out a piece of paper. "Here's my phone number in case you change-"

"I'm not changing my mind! I just want out!"

"We'll take you back to your car-"

"No, just stop right here and I'll walk."

"Maybe you didn't notice all the talk about a sniper-"

"Just stop. The damned. Car."

"Dobbs, you're on crutches!"

"STOP THE F#@!ING CAR!"

The Ford's tires screeched, and the vehicle jerked to a halt. The passenger door flew open. Dobbs eased herself out onto the sidewalk five blocks from the police station. Jason grabbed her crutches from the back and slipped his phone number under one of the pads as he handed them to her.

"I got to know a bit about you when I was a detective" Dobbs said. "I figure you're probably the kind of guy who'll want to follow me to make sure I get back to my car safely. Don't bother."

"But-"

"I never want to see either of you again. Ever..."

Jason watched her go.

"I don't get it," he said. "Cop or not, I figured she'd be jumping at the chance to get in on this. But she's walking away. Literally."

"She's hurt," Ashley replied.

"C'mon, her leg isn't even broken."

"Jason, can you BE any more clueless? Her life just got snatched out from under her and you're expecting her to be all business as usual. It doesn't happen that way. Geez, a guy died right in front of her a few hours ago!"

"Yeah, but I guess I thought she was... I dunno."

"What? Superwoman? No such thing."

"Well, not ALL of us have the benefit of reading people's minds. I'd better give Sebastian the good news." Jason picked up the phone and pressed the speed-dial.

"I didn't have to read her mind," Ashley said as the phone rang. "Some stuff is just obvious. For people who pay attention."

"Whatever."

"Yes?" Sebastian's voice growled from the speaker.

"Hard way," said Jason.

There was a pause.

"...she's not going to help?"

"No. She's having a bad career day; we're in it by ourselves. Are you happy now?"

"Come and get me."

Sebastian hung up.

"...and who pissed in HIS Cheerios this morning?" said Jason.

"ell look who decided to show!"

Kevin H. Dobbs' dark, broad-shouldered, 6'3" frame hovered ominously in the doorway, blocking it completely. Marilyn could just see past him into the hotel room, but she couldn't squeeze past even if she tried-

-actually she COULD, but that would involve violence. Someone would probably lose a tooth or two. Maybe a trip to the hospital-

"We were expecting you... what... six? Eight hours ago?"

"Kevin," Marilyn's voice simmered in her throat. She leveled an evil gaze at her ex-husband. He stepped aside.

"WONDERFUL city you have here, Mary!" he said as she entered the palatial penthouse suite. It was more like an apartment than a hotel room... complete with kitchen, laundry room, and living area, and two bedrooms. All of which were immaculately clean, despite having been lived in for several days. Kevin Dobbs may have been a manipulative bastard... but he was a clean bastard. "A shooting in every borough!"

"This isn't New York, Kevin. Rock Springs doesn't have boroughs."

"No wonder you like this place so much," Kevin continued without even acknowledging that Marilyn had spoken. "SO much like home! All the explosions and killings... wonderful place to raise a child, I tell you."

"Kev?" A tall, thin twig of a woman... obviously a model... wandered in from the bedroom. Her face and nose had too many hard angles to be completely natural, and her bleached blonde hair hung about her neck in an asymmetrical, surreal style that must have cost a fortune. She was wearing Kevin's bathrobe, which seemed several hundred sizes too big. But even covered up, Marilyn could tell that the body underneath the robe was at least partially synthetic. "Is that... oh, hello!"

"Marilyn, meet Sissy."

"Sissy." Marilyn repeated the woman's name slowly. "Nice to meet you."

Sissy flashed a row of perfect white teeth. Dobbs stifled groan.

"And Sissy is...?" Marilyn began. "Victoria's Secret, or Frederick's of Hollywood?"

"I did runway for the Victoria's show last year!" Sissy squealed happily. "See, Kevvy, I TOLD you she'd recognize me!"

"Oh, I assure you Marilyn has never SEEN a fashion show in her life. Right Marilyn?"

"When they start making clothes for adults instead of pre-teen anorexics, I might give 'em a shot. Kevvy."

"Oh, they make plus-sizes now!" said Sissy... completely missing the fact that she'd been insulted.

"Where's my daughter?" Marilyn caught... but ignored... the fact that SHE had been insulted.

"You know, maybe its a bit late for her to be outside. She should stay here for the night and you can pick her up in the morning... how's that?"

"You agreed to hand her over today."

"Yes I did... eight hours ago. But now it's dark outside, and Alexis is finally sleep-"

"MOMMY!" Alexis Marie Dobbs... six years old and sporting a brand new pair of silk pajamas that Marilyn had never seen before... stampeded out of the second bedroom on a collision course with her mother. "YOU'RE ALIVE!"

"Huh-!?" Marilyn only had time for a confused grunt before Alexis wrapped herself around her good leg and squeezed hard enough to shut off her circulation.

"You're alive! You're alive!"

"Oh, isn't that sweet," said 'Sissy' "She misses her mommy."

Marilyn fixed Kevin with an angry stare.

"You let her watch the news, didn't you," she snarled.

"What? YOU let her watch the news all the time-"

"Not with stuff like THIS going on! Two cops died! And in case you haven't noticed, I'M a cop! Alexis, mommy's okay... nothing happened."

"Are you sure? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Go get your things; I'm taking you home."

Alexis scampered off to the bedroom.

Kevin took two steps back... out of crutch-swinging range.

"Why didn't you tell her I was okay?" Marilyn's clenched jaw transformed her words into a tight, strained hiss.

"Because I didn't KNOW you were okay. They released some names, but how was I supposed to know for sure? You people are always withholding things, and you said you were going to drop by headquarters on your way here. When we didn't hear from you... well, what was I supposed to do... lie to a child?"

"Yes! You were supposed to lie! Tell her I got caught in traffic! Tell her I had to work! Don't just let her imagination fly off... the child thought I was DEAD!"

"Nooo, she didn't," Kevin said softly, smiling. "It was probably just a nightmare."

"You, Kevin, are a nightmare. You're always playing your little mind-games. With me... with your family... and now with your own DAUGHTER!"

"Umm-" 'Sissy' decided to add something to the conversation-

"Shut up!" Marilyn snapped.

"Okay," Sissy peeped.

"Go help Alexis, baby." said Kevin.

"Yeah, okay." Sissy glided into the bedroom after Alexis.

"And ANOTHER thing-!"

"Oh, boy, here we go!"

"Did you HAVE to bring your new girlfriend with you?"

"Marilyn, I think I've been very gracious in NOT just taking Alexis back to New York. I stayed here, so she could be close to her mother... and so far, I have yet to hear a thank you. No, instead I get chastised for bringing a guest along? What is this?"

"You stayed here because I still have legal custody of Alexis. You take her out of town, I send your ass to jail! If it weren't for that, I'd be having this conversation with you on a cell-phone on my way to the airport! So, you want some gratitude? Here... HERE'S your gratitude!"

Dobbs held up a long, slender finger. The middle one.

"You know," said Kevin. "You're a very hard person to get along with, Mary. I think maybe it was the challenge... maybe that's what attracted me to you. See, me and Sissy were having this conversation earlier today and she was wondering what I ever saw in someone as crude and self-centered and-"

"Self-Centered? ME!?"

"Yes, you! Your life is always about what YOU want... regardless of what's best for other people."

"We've tried this game before, Kevin. You're not going to take your OWN faults and graft them onto me, like I'M the selfish ass. I'm not. YOU are."

"Oh, is that why you cheated on me with your partner?"

"Wha- Y-"

"Or was it your boss? Oh, that's right. It was both."

Dobbs trembled. Her eyes flared, and her fists tightened on her crutches. She didn't move.

Kevin went for the kill.

"I'll be the first to admit I've got my faults," he said with a slight chuckle... as if he were about to tell a joke. "I've got an ego... but then, I've got a lot to be egotistical about. Yes, I like to play little games sometimes, but that's all in fun. But YOU... YOU were screwed up long before I came along. You're so into being a cop that actually BEING one isn't good enough for you. You have to SLEEP with them, too! When it all boils down to it, THAT'S the reason we're not together anymore: I'm not a cop. I don't go out and get SHOT at every day, so I'm not man enough for you! But fortunately, that still left the ENTIRE NYPD to pass you around like a cheap-"

Dobbs moved suddenly. For a second, it looked as if her right crutch were about to come up off the floor and fly across the room... but Dobbs was just turning herself around to face the door.

"Where are you going!?" Kevin demanded, stepping on front of her. "I'm not finished-"

"I've never hit you," said Marilyn. She was looking at the floor. "I scream... I break things... but I've never in my put a finger on you. But if I stay in this room another second, so help me God... I'll be in the hallway."

"That's so typical," said Kevin. "You respond to everything with threats and violence... you can't even have a CONVERSATION without threatening to kill someone."

Dobbs sniffed, then looked up at him. She was crying.

"I'm sorry, okay? I did... some things I sh-shouldn't have, but that's no reason-"

"Yeah, I hear you did quite a FEW things..."

"Dammit, Kevin..." Dobbs swore without a bit of force in her voice. She tried to squeeze past her ex-husband, but ended up getting her crutches tangled. She started to fall, but he caught her. She regained her balance and pulled away sharply

"Don't touch me!"

"Maybe you should have said THAT to some of your buddies in New York."

...twisting the dagger...

Anger flared in Marilyn's chest, but it died just as quickly.

"New York is a big city, Marilyn," said Kevin. "Just because we split up, didn't mean you had to come all the way out here to avoid me. Unless, of course, it wasn't ME you were trying to get away from. You want to run from your mistakes? Go right ahead... but don't drag my daughter around behind you just because YOU never met a cop you couldn't say 'no' to."

"I said I was sorry..." Marilyn whined. She swooned on her crutches, looking as if she were about to fall again. "What more to you want?"

"Want? I want the court to recognize the mistake it made when they gave Alexis to YOU. You were born to be a cop, Marilyn... there's nothing wrong with that, but you have no perspective! No containment! You let being a cop contaminate your entire psyche! It CONSUMES you... and ruins everything around you! Its' almost like you're ADDICTED to violence, and being a cop is the only legal way you can get your FIX! And THIS is the woman they give a child to?"

"...she's my daughter, too..."

And that was all she could say. The vicious onslaught of truth had left Marilyn weak and reeling. She wiped her tears on her arm and tried to stop crying... but couldn't.

"Is that going to be your line for the judge? Somehow, I don't think that'll pull much weight. But maybe if you cry a little for him-"

"Why are you doing this to me!? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?"

"You think I'm doing this? No... YOU did this to yourself. You did it a long time ago."

Realizing that she had made a complete crying fool of herself in front of her mortal enemy, Marilyn finally managed to stand up straight and stop the flood of water cascading down her face.

"You can't hurt me," she said, almost defiantly.

"Looks like I just did."

"Hope you got a good look, because it won't happen again. You... caught me with my guard down."

"You? Guard down? Well, I guess there's a first time for everything-"

"The man who hired me was killed today. My boss. Right in front of me."

"Oh." said Kevin. He paused. "Were you sleeping with him-?"

"My GOD, Kevin, don't you ever stop!"

"You never did. You were a cop then... and you're STILL a cop now. Why would anything be different?"

"For your information, I'm not a cop any more."

Kevin was quiet for a long few seconds. The shock had shut him down... temporarily.

"You quit?" he said. Then immediately: "No, you'd never quit. They fire you?"

"Not officially," Dobbs said, stiffening a little more. "I'm on suspension until I decide I want to serve hamburgers for a living. So I guess things ARE different now. So much for your theory."

"Well. That's... interesting."

"That all you got to say? 'Interesting'? My life's coming apart and its just 'interesting' to you?"

"Yes. You? Not a cop? ...you'll either snap completely... or suddenly transform into a normal, well-adjusted human being. Be interesting to see which one. My money's on the first. Heh... I'm halfway tempted to drop the custody suit and just wait for you to self-destruct."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you."

"Oh, I'd love it."

"You'll be disappointed."

"Oh, I don't think so. After all... history is on my side."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means. There's too much of your family inside you."

"My family has-"

"I MET your family. Lunatics... all of 'em. That brother of yours? Jesus H. Christ, what... was he BORN on SPEED?! And you're just like him!"

"Don't-"

"-Only with you, its a different kind of drug. A legal one. So what are you gonna do now that you can't get it? Cold Turkey? Just sit around and watch TV? FINALLY spend some time with your daughter? No, I don't think so. You're just not that kind of man, Marilyn. You'll be climbing the walls in days. Maybe even sooner than that. Its already eating at you. I can see it-"

"Ummm..." Kevin's girlfriend 'Sissy' interrupted them. She gently pulled the bedroom door closed behind her as she entered the living room. "I knew you guys were talking, so I told her to lay down. She fell asleep."

Kevin chuckled, as if he were about to say something cruel. If he was, he changed his mind.

"Let her stay the night, Marilyn. She'll still be here in the morning... I promise. And you know I always keep my promises."

"She's coming with me-"

"I know you, Marilyn. I know you're in no condition to deal with a child right now. But if you really want to take her, then let's go wake her up..."

Kevin started walking toward the bedroom.

"Wait-" said Dobbs.

Kevin stopped and turned around.

"I, uhhh..." Dobbs stuttered. "If she's asleep, then... I'll just..."

"She'll be fine," said Kevin. "Promise."

"Tell her-"

"I'll tell her you had to work." Again, Kevin looked as if he was about to say something else. He didn't.

"First thing in the morning," said Dobbs. She intentionally did not say goodbye to either of the people smiling at her from the penthouse living room. She merely escorted herself to the door... and took care not to slam it on her way out.

"Is she all right?" said Sissy after the door 'clicked' shut.

"No," said Kevin, a sudden deep seriousness in his voice. "Not even close."

y the time she reached the parking deck, she was crying. She couldn't believe she'd let him get to her again... but then, it wasn't really about him. Kevin had a knack for making the truth as cruel and painful as possible, and tonight had been no exception.

She was a mess. She had screwed up in New York. She had made mistakes... bad one. Not because she didn't know better, but because...

...because Kevin Dobbs was right. Being a cop had spilled over into the rest of her life and destroyed everything. And now she didn't even have THAT.

Marilyn found her car where she'd left it. She got in, started the engine, and then sat there. Thinking. About nothing.

And then, about Alexis. The court was going to take her away. Kevin would say that she was safer with HIM. That she wasn't fit to be a mother. Was he right? Wasn't he ALWAYS right? He was going to win, and she knew it.

And what would that leave HER with?

Memories of a job that she used to have?... of when she used to make a difference?

She was making a hell of a difference right NOW, wasn't she? Gavin had been murdered. And instead of doing the job she was born to do, on the ONE case that mattered probably more than any of the others... here she was sitting in a car, crying.

"My life is coming apart," she said, searching her pockets for...

...what WAS she looking for?

Her fix. Her drug.

Her phone.

She dialed the number on the scrap of paper she'd found earlier.

"Yo," said the male voice on the other end.

"Brooks," said Dobbs. "It's me. Still need my help?"

he bed was hard and uncomfortable... but it was clean. At least, it SMELLED clean. But at this point, it really didn't matter. It could have been a bed of nails for all he cared.

The stranger sat up reluctantly. He realized that he'd fallen asleep still wearing his clothes. He also realized that he'd bled all over his shirt. Dried blood clung to his mouth and chin like paint.

"Nice," he said, pulling off his shirt and tossing it into a corner. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The blood was still slightly sticky. "Reeeeal nice."

Grunting, the stranger got up and went to the bathroom. He returned with a clean face and a dirty rag, which he was using to dab at the corners of his nostrils. He grabbed the aluminum briefcase and tossed it onto the bed. Then he sat down beside it.

Inside the briefcase was a small laptop computer, a cellular phone, a stack of assorted papers, a .45 semiautomatic, and a pack of chewing gum.

The stranger folded two sticks of gum into his mouth. The sugary lump quickly counteracted the taste of blood.

Then he plugged the laptop into the cellphone and turned both devices on.

The computer booted, and announced that he had 1 new email message. Before he click on it, a window opened on the bottom corner of the screen:

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM:
CONTACT1

CONTACT1:  Where are you?   You are late.

AOD: I'm here.   Fell asleep.

CONTACT1:  Your professionalism leaves much to be 
desired.   Do not miss a contact time again.



AOD:  Or what?  You won't pay me?  



CONTACT1: You joke.  But you haven't been paid yet.



AOD:  What is this?   I did five.  You owe me five.  
That's the deal.



CONTACT1:  Mistakes were made.   Questions need 
to be answered.



AOD:  Mistakes?   What mistakes?



CONTACT1:  Six killings.   One of them was unauthorized-



AOD:  You aren't paying for it, so what does it matter?  
The wife was acting suspicious, so I took her out, too.   
She would have talked.  But don't worry... that one's a 
freebie.



CONTACT1:  Why is Brooks still alive?



AOD:  He wasn't my target.



CONTACT1:   Yes, he is. 



AOD:  Not today, he wasn't.  
I had no idea he was 
going to be there.  



CONTACT1:  You wasted the opportunity. 



AOD:  I don't believe in opportunity.  
I call my shots ahead of time.   
Just because Brooks was there 
doesn't mean I'm going to take him 
when I'm not ready.   
You wanted the reporter gone... he's gone.   
Pay me.



CONTACT1:  When will Brooks be taken?



AOD:  Why?  I thought I was going to be 
left alone to do this my way?



CONTACT1:  He is dangerous.



AOD:   So am I.   So are you.   
Everybody's dangerous... 
especially when they haven't been paid.



CONTACT1:  5 Million dollars is being deposited into 
your account.



AOD:  Get the next deposit ready.   
Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.



CONTACT1:  Who will you take?



AOD:  My way, remember?   No questions.



CONTACT1:  The clients would like to know who is 
next.



AOD:  Tell the clients to watch the noon news 
like everybody else.   
If they liked what they saw today... 
...they're gonna love tomorrow.

copyright 2005 by Dark Icon Entertainment