Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

MARSHALL POV

I just got back to the office. My witless witness Rene freaked out when the neighbors in his apartment complex invited him to a get together. I thought it was a kind gesture. He thought it was a threat. I get it that his whole life has turned upside down, but he should be able to tell an invitation from a threat.

I did get something useful from my visit. The manager said there had been gang graffiti on the rear of the apartment. He knew I was some kind of law enforcement and I promised to look into it. Turns out it was a declaration of war between the Vipers and the Barrio Brats.

When I get back to the office my erstwhile partner isn't at her desk. She didn't have any witness visits scheduled.

"Stan. Where's Mary?"

Uh, she got a call from Ryland.

Ryland, Ryland. "Ryland Santos?"

That was not good. She shouldn't be going to see him alone. He's a former member of the Vipers and not opposed to violence. Mary's gun can't protect her from everything. That's my job.

"Yes, she said was going to that junkyard to bail him out of some problem with his boss."

Junkyard? Boss? Ryland works at a bakery. I know Stan trusts Mary but he should have known a meeting at a junkyard wasn't on the up and up.

"Stan," I yell. "Which junkyard?" If the one I think it is she's in trouble.

"I think it's the Junk Yard Boys one on Montgomery."

"Shit, Stan. That's ground zero for the latest gang war."

"Hold up Marshall." Stan is getting his gun and badge and has his phone plastered to his ear.

"I'm going with you. Albuquerque PD's gang task force says there has been chatter about that junkyard." Holstering his phone and checking his gun, Stan urged. "Let's go."

I drove and Stan hung on to the 'oh shit' bar as if his life depended on it. I know we were both reliving the last time Mary was shot. That wasn't going to happen again. Not on my watch. Or Stan's.

We're not exactly in stealth mode as I screech to a stop at the junkyard gates. They're open. Good. No dogs. Stan and I creep into the main yard, guns drawn. A bullet pings off the scrap metal and I crouch down. Mary is to my right, behind a stack of fenders.

I count shots and time my run when they should be reloading. I spot one of the gang members and shoot him while leaping to Mary's side.

Mary snaps around and aims at me, but doesn't shoot. "What in the hell are you doing here Doofus?" She returns to a crouch facing the shooters. "Not that I'm not happy to see you."

"Despite your fondest wish," I grind out never taking my eyes off the building, "and your firm belief, you are not invincible." I turn to check her and exhale, relieved. No blood. "Whatchya got?"

"Four shooters over there." She gestures to the building. "And at least two, maybe three, behind that trash compactor on steroids. They've been mostly shooting at each other. Gang war?"

"Yeah, Green Vipers vs. Barrio Brats."

She nods, understanding.

"Do they know you're here?"

"Oh yeah," she admits.

"Mare, what did you do?"

She shrugs and smirks coyly. "There used to be five and four?"

She bettered the odds, a little.

"What's your plan?" she asks. I know she's got bupkis, I'm the one with the plans. Then I hear the sirens. Stan is the man!

"Stan got backup." I rise to a half crouch, drawing a bead on a rooftop shooter. I shoot, watch him fall then push Mary to the ground, covering her with my body.

"What the fuck? Get off me."

When we hear the lockstep of SWAT, I poke my head up, following it with my badge. The SWAT leader comes over. "You all right?"

"Yeah. United States Marshals. No injuries." I tell him.

"Except for my squashed ribs." Mary grunts. "Move, Doofus!"

The take down was anti-climatic. Outgunned the gang bangers threw down their guns and surrendered. Mary and I scooted out of the junkyard not wanting to be identified. Stan eyed us.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yeah," Mary replies out of breath.

"Ryland?" he queries.

Mary mumbles "Fucker," too softly for Stan to hear. "He's not there."

"Think he did this as a joke?" Stan asks.

"Yeah, because I'm still laughing," she growls.

"I think Mr. Ryland needs a visit," Stan declares. "And the DOJ needs to be notified. No one," he stresses, "No one puts my Inspectors in the line of fire. No one!"

A/N: Many thanks to Meg. This has been a horrible awful not good day. Your review of Chap 18 of Sonn of Mann made it sunshine and roses. The IPS story numbers on ffnet have dipped below 1K. This story is to make those numbers go UP!