I was trying not to cry as I stared out of my window at the house ahead of me, now only an almost empty husk, void of the family that once filled its walls. Yesterday was Jesse's funeral. Letty, Leon, and Dom had made a run for it the day that he was killed. All because a blond cop got too close. After Vince and Letty had gotten out of the hospital. Vince got caught, though. Mia was inconsolable. She and I hadn't really spoken after the funeral. I guess that was my fault, though. I haven't left my house for much since it happened. Sorry, Mia. I'm more lost than I've ever been. Even more lost than when Dom first invited me over to that party. I stay by you, and I'll suck the life right out of you. I moved away from the window, laying sprawled out on my bed. Maybe I should get some sleep. My body finally obeyed my thoughts for the first time in days, and my eyes closed.

The setting looked like everything had been artfully painted in watercolor, a girl staring out into the painted night sky. She wasn't real looking. A cartoon. She's blue... This must be my odd recurring dream again. But it doesn't seem like it's the same. The girl-me- is staring out of her window, tears sliding down her cheeks as she stares up at the stars. She looked down at the house across the street. Where light and warmth once radiated from it, it was now dark, little wisps of smoke coming through an open window would appear. Inside that house, there was a woman that once glowed with such fire. Her eyes once shined as bright as the sun. No longer. She was burned out, her form nothing more than ash and soot, her hair smoke billowing down her back. There is no light. Back across the street, the blue woman touches her hand to the window, watching frost collect against the pane. Her house had never been warm and welcoming. Her home had been across the road, but no more. If she went now, she'd doom her friend to be like her. Cold. Endlessly cold. So cold, it seemed no amount of heat and light and fire could warm her. It would only burn those fires out. The cold was like an like a disease. It broke people down and infected them until it felt like their insides were made of ice. Never to be warm again. Tears fell down her face and dropped to the floor, crystal drops of ice.


It was months later, and I still hadn't had the guts to talk to Mia. That was well and good, because she made no move to make contact with me, either. We saw each other every now and again, waving despite our arms being heavy laden with groceries. Though I ate much less these days. I probably looked sickly pale from the lack of sunlight. If it weren't for the fact I raced every weekend to keep the bills paid, I probably would be doing much worse. I had holed myself into a corner of my living room, reading some dull book or other. I say 'reading', but 'staring at' seems more fitting.

Sleep came in times few and far between, and didn't last long. A week after the funeral, I started having nightmares of the day Jesse died. I always woke up screaming.

I was brought from my blank musings from a knock at my door and I frowned. Mia? No. It was a dark skinned man with a burn scar spanning his entire left side of his face. I squinted into the bright sunshine to see him.

"Can I help you?" My voice was a bit raspy from disuse.

"Yes, the name is Augustus Gibbons." He flashed a badge. NSA... "Agent Gibbons will do. I just wanted to see if I could persuade you to be a help to your good ol' Uncle Sam?"

"If his is one of those things like Jehovah's witnesses, you got the wrong house. Wanna try again?" I sassed, while opening my door further. "Get in. You look like a cop, and I don't wanna be seen with you darkening my doorstep." He stepped inside.

"Miss Guerra, I assure you it's nothing like that. But you have certain skills that could be used-" I cut him off.

"Look, I've got too much shit on my plate to deal with yours, so you'll just have to find someone else. I waved him off.

"That's too bad. I was hoping this wouldn't have to get forceful." He frowned at me. I scoffed before I felt a little prick in my arm. I grabbed at it, pulling away what looked like a tranq of some sort.

"I have bills to pay..." I grumbled before hitting the floor. Before I went under, I heard his voice echoing in my consciousness.

"Don't worry. I'll be sure to lock the house down for you. I'll even leave a note."


Fuck, my head hurts. I lifted my head to see my blurry surroundings take shape into what looked like a diner. "What am I doing here?" I mumbled, still groggy.

"A couple 'a guys came in and dropped ya off. Looks like you could use some coffee." A waitress answered. I grunted at the information.

"Tea, please, if you have it." I managed through the splitting headache.

"Gotcha." She nodded. My eyes wandered around the diner before my eyes landed on a young man in a fine suit, reading 'Financial Times'. On a Sunday? My eyes noted the watch on his wrist. Cheap. I heard the click of heels and I looked down to see the waitress walking away in heels. I blinked in confusion before my cup was set in front of me by shaking hands. I eyed the 'waitress' skeptically.

"Everything okay?" I asked lowly. Her eyes flicked to the man sitting a few stools away from me before she looked back down.

"Yeah. Fine." She bit out before turning away.

I blinked again, the gears in my head turning furiously. I lifted my cup, noting the three digits written down in shaky scrawl on a stray scrap of paper.

"Hey." I turned to the man speaking to me. "We gonna have a problem, huh?"

"Nah, no problem." I dismissed. He turned away from me to nod at the fancy suit before they jumped up and began shouting for nobody to move. The trucker actually pulled out a police issued piece. I couldn't help myself from rolling my eyes, taking a big gulp of my tea. Yuck, it's weak. And kinda lukewarm. I wrinkled my nose as I swallowed the swill.

"Get down!" The stockbroker tried to grab me, but I grabbed the salt shaker, quickly popping off the silver looking top before throwing the contents in his eyes and stomping down on his instep. I took his shot gun before turning to the trucker guy and walloping him across the face with my new weapon, effectively knocking him out. It probably only took a minute at most for everything to settle before I could hear clapping. I turned to see Gibbons grinning.

"Well done." He stood, amusement clear in his eyes. "Well done, Miss Guerra."

"Where the hell am I?" I growled.

"It doesn't look like a diner to you?" He asked. I snorted.

"Please. Sure, it looks like a diner, but the people aren't that great of actors." I pointed my confiscated gun to the man I had liberated it from. "Your stock broker? Why the hell is he reading the 'Financial Times' on a Sunday? I mean, sure, it's still plausible, but then he's got a nice suit like that, wearing a cheap ass Walmart watch. Anyone wearing a suit of that make while paying attention to the stock market isn't gonna wear something this cheap." I gestured to the knocked out guy at my feet. "Your stick up man is toting a frickin' police issued piece, not that that's impossible." I shrugged before pointing to the waitress. "But your waitress wearing heels? Not even the dumbest people I know would miss that."

He started to chuckle. "Very good." He seemed amused by something. I narrowed my eyes.

"Let's try this again. Where the hell am I? What the hell is going on here?" I glared coldly with my arms crossed.

"This was just a test. One you aced, of course." He answered.

"Her attitude is worse than the last one's." A guy strode up to me purposefully.

"Excuse me? ¿Quién coño te preguntó, imbécil?" I snarled. He glared.

"The attitude is what makes them." Gibbons chortled. "Let's wrap this up, take it to the next level."

"Whoa, whoa. There will be no next level." I held out my hands in the 'stop' gesture. "I ain't going anywhere with you people. And That tea was awful. I'm going home-" Another sting, this time just under my right breast. I tugged out another dart and groaned. "Shitty service, right there."

"Got wit, that one." I heard before everything faded out again.


"Fuckin' hell." I groused as I came to a second time. There were men all around me groaning in different stages of waking. Soldiers were further into the metal hub we had woken in.

"Looks like Princess is awake." A familiar timber registered in my mind before I looked up and choked in a rather undignified manner.

"Dom?" I all but whispered. My heart squeezed uncomfortably.

"Hey, what's a sweet thing like this doing here, anyway? Won't she just get eaten up?" That familiar voice didn't sooth me as he addressed the soldiers. It pissed me off. I pounced on him sending a fist into his eye, knocking him on his ass.

"Not Dom." I confirmed to his stupified form, shaking out my hand a bit. "I don't usually give in to the urge to punch him." I stomped away from him, well, as 'away' as one can in a plane.

"Damn. Not so sweet, huh, sweetness?" He grinned. The others were cracking up before the soldiers came forward, standing us in front of the drop ramp, and I felt my blood begin to pound as I heard the ramp lower while we were still air-borne over the other 'diner finalists' smart ass quips.

The soldiers were grinning at us as the others figured out what was happening.

"This ain't right." One of the guys started chanting. One of the soldiers popped the parachute, pulling the first guy out, but I knew we were all tied together.

"I live for this shit." 'Not Dom' declared before the rope jerked him out, too.

"Why me?" I groaned in lament before being pulled out by the rope, and I rolled to avoid collision with their still moving bodies. "Hate this bullshit." I grumbled to myself, watching the plane lift back up into the air and fly on.

"Whoo! Not bad!" I glanced up at 'Not Dom' who was acting like Christmas came early. "Let's do that again." I found myself smiling at his enthusiasm.I chuckled at his adorable reaction. I pulled myself to my feet. It was strange seeing Dom's face in such a childish expression. Dom always seemed to be burdened with responsibility even when he was happy. This guy didn't seem to know what responsibility was.


People. And they were running. From us. I frowned.

"Holy shit, this is Columbia! Cocaine, man. The coke plants." One of the guys ran forward to collect leaves and I frowned in disdain.

'Not Dom' checked the truck left behind. "No keys." I sighed. Of course we wouldn't get that lucky...

"Of course not." I muttered. He eyed me for a moment as the other two were talking about the plants.

Jeeps and bikes and even a horse and rider were making their way to us.

"What is this? Another test?" One of the guys asked aloud.

"Let's go across the river, go!" The other two took off running while 'Not Dom' and I stayed behind.

"I'm ready to go home." I groused, and the bald man beside me eyed me strangely.

One of the men walked up to us, a grill covering his four top from teeth. 'Not Dom' spoke up. "Ya got us, I guess we fail this little test, huh?" Grill guy just smirked and knocked him in the head with his gun. This isn't a test. Not a controlled one, at least. He turned to me next, and gave me the same treatment. Fuck. That's gonna smart when I wake up.


"I am really starting to hate this whole getting knocked out situation." I winced as I came to. I was tied up, making the whole nausea inducing headache thing worse.

"Nice to see you, too, sweetness." 'Not Dom quipped. I looked at him, hanging from the hook in front of me.

"I'd say 'you too', but not in these circumstances." I grumbled. "And it ain't sweetness. It's Meridian." Just then, a short man walked in, long hair tied back and face scarred.

The boys started cackling. I could see this really pissed him off. I stayed quiet, waiting for an opening.

"Okay, funny guys, huh? Okay, I'll show you what we do to funny guys who get in our business." He unearthed a bloody machete from a table of tools.

"What, hog tie us and force us to listen to your bad accent?" 'Not Dom' cracked a joke, the others laughing.

"No, we cut off their Achilles tendons. Watch'em flop around like marionettes. Unless you have something to tell me. Something I need to know, huh?" The Columbian man waved the machete around 'Not Dom's' face.

"Okay.." He thought about it. "You're really short?" He wise-cracked. The man looked confused. The other two were howling with laughter and I shook my head in exasperation. We're as good as dead. One of the guys tried to say something, but it was muffled. "And he says you could use a haircut to update your style. Get off me." He tried to shrug off the hand that was holding onto his shirt. The guy glared at the closest guy on the ground.

"Shut up!" He snarled as he kicked him over.

"Hey, just two seconds ago you told us to talk, now you tell us to shut up? I don't mean to nitpick, but you're the worst at this torture thing." 'Not Dom' just could not shut his mouth.

"Yeah?" The interrogator queried before throwing a punch to the bald man's face, sending him twirling.

"You slap me again, I'm gonna throw you a beating." The Dom look alike informed the machete wielding man. He threw another punch, and he was twirling again. "I hope they're paying you extra for this." The man stopped him from spinning anymore by grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He waved the machete under his nose.

"Ya know what, funny guy? Maybe I should cut off your nose first. Funny guy..." He growled through gritted teeth.

"What's funny is, this actually smells like real blood." He met eyes with me in a mild panic.

"Uh-huh. I hope you like it. Cuz it's the last thing you're gonna smell." The Columbian man growled, winding his arm back to send it to the bald man's face. I kicked out quickly, taking the man's feet out from under him as 'Not Dom' kicked him away. The other bald guy on the ground began grappling with the machete man as 'Not Dom' pulled himself off the hook. My eyes widened at the muscles bunching under his shirt before he dropped to the floor and wrapped his restraints around the guy's throat before ramming his head into a metal beam. I winced before the warehouse we were in lit up with shots. Now the place was under attack. We just couldn't catch a break.

"This was the vacation I never wanted." I quipped, working on my restraints. 'Not Dom' turned me over and cut me loose. "Thanks."

"No prob, sweetness." I noticed the guy he was hefting about had fucked up his leg in the scuffle earlier. Shit, that's gonna slow us down.

"Move, it's every man for himself!" The dyed blond guy shoved me out of his way as he ran out into the open, toting a brick of cocaine.

"Idiot." I hissed his way.

"Come on." 'Not Dom' nudged me as he gestured out toward the plants. "Gotta run for cover." I nodded, following as closely as I could.

On the way, I found a dropped gun and checked the clip. Full. I slid into the foliage right behind the other two.

"I'm gonna get us outta here." 'Not Dom' said. "I'll get us something to ride out on."

"I'll come with you." They both turned to me looking like I grew a second head. "Look, there's three of us. Any of the big vehicles are already toast, or we'd group in smoke trying to get out of here in one. Our only chance is a few bikes. But you can't drive two at the same time." 'Not Dom' seemed to develop a sense of grudging respect in those moments, because he nodded slowly. I handed the gun to the injured man. "Use this if you get in trouble. Stay here."

"Just try to keep up, princess." He wise-cracked, trying to lighten the mood.

"As a racer, I'm more worried about leaving you in the dust." I threw over my shoulder as I kept low to the ground and scurried for better cover. 'Not Dom' followed behind me.

"A racer, huh?" He checked around us. "You any good?"

"I'd have to be. Can't get my bills paid without it. Not to mention, I have to keep up maintenance. Pixie Dust is only sweet to me if I'm sweet to her." He snorted. As we used a building as cover.

"Pixie Dust?" He looked down at me. "Why would you name your car that?"

"It's a long story, but the short version is, my nickname was Lost Boy for a while." I eyed some vehicles just as they ignited into flames. "Lost Boys cant fly without Pixie Dust."

"Cute." He commented. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." My eyes lit on a bike and I nudged him to point it out. "What's your name, anyway. I must have missed introductions."

"Xander Cage. But you can call me X. It's what all my friends call me." He gave me a passing grin as we made our way to the fallen bike. He pulled it up, kick starting it and straddling the seat. I hopped on the back and wrapped my arms around his middle. We took off. We were racing through the fields, when we passed another person on a bike before I jumped onto that one. Xader looked back in alarm, watching me usurp the rider with ease and throwing him off the bike as I steered the bike to follow Xander.

"Go! I'm following!" I called out, only a yard behind him.

"That was pretty cool, princess!" He shouted back. The helicopter started shooting our way, and I gunned the engine, pulling up just behind Xander. We were approaching a ramp. On a truck. I knew I was gonna have to jump with him. It was too late to divert my course. I felt air, and then, the cocaine in the truck made a huge powdery explosion behind us. We landed safely, my heart pounding in my ribcage.

We were racing along the fenced in area, praying there was a break, but there wasn't. There as, however, a mound of dirt that would get us air borne to glide through the wire fence on or sides. I followed his lead, trying to swallow my heart back down my throat.

We landed on high ground, and started looking for the other guy. He popped up, shouting and waving to get our attention. Bullets peppered his area and I glared at the man shooting down at him. Grill man. Xander jumped, doing one of his tricks to kick the guy in the face, knocking him off his perch. I jumped, still playing follow the leader as we landed back on the ground. If any of the team find out about this, I'm dead. Especially Dom. The heat was back on us as we raced past people, trying not to get shot. He paused, but I had already figured out what he was thinking. I sped past, him now hot on my heels, as we used an overturned car as a ramp to jump over the roof of a tin building. The shots behind us still didn't manage to hit us, but it hit the building. And there was something very flammable in it, because the damn thing blew under our feet. The section we were racing down stayed whole by some miracle, and we made it safely to the ground.

We saw the storm drain at the same time and turned our bikes over to slide into it. I was boxed in by him and his bike as he used himself as a shield. I gasped as the adrenalin started to wear off.

"Not bad for my first time riding a bike, if I do say so myself." I managed through giggles. He whipped his head back to me.

"Your first time? You gotta be shitting me! You ride like a pro!" He ogled me like I was a whole new creature. "Can't believe that was your first time on a dirt bike."

"No, that was my first time on any bike." I managed through my laughter. "I never learned how to ride a bike."

"Oh my god. And people say I'm crazy." He couldn't help the full blown smile he sent my way. I grinned back.

"Yeah, well... Let's go get your friend." I wriggled over his bike, keeping low. "Looks like the heat's died down."

"Yeah." He agreed.

We snuck through the foliage, hurrying to the injured man.

"We found some bikes." Xander started.

"Did you get hit?" I asked, checking the guy over. He sighed in exasperation, defeat on his visage. I frowned in confusion before turning to Xander to see us surrounded by camouflaged soldiers. "Fu-" They pounced on us, putting us back in restraints.


"Very good, you two." I looked up to see the man I'd been longing to knock on his ass.

"Hey, Frankenstein, let me outta these handcuffs so I can beat the shit outta you." Xander greeted.

"Mother fucker, you best believe I'll kick your ass if you come near me. Estúpido hijo de puta no sabe cómo tomar no como respuesta."

"No, I don't believe I do, Miss Guerra." He smiled at my hostility. "Now, you two did an excellent job creating an opening for the Columbian military."

"What?" Xander glared at Gibbons.

"That was my idea, to use you as bait-" Xander threw his head into the guys face, breaking his nose. "Agh!" He cried. I rose up and stomped his knee, causing it to crunch. He whimpered and Xander and I were dropped to our knees by Gibbons.

"Pretty fast for an old timer." Xander complimented.

"Get up, you two. Let's talk." He kept a leisurely pace as we pulled ourselves to our feet to walk beside the scar faced man. Well, Xander was walking by him, and I was walking by Xander. "That really was excellent work. You both passed that test with flying colors. You both showed signs of ingenuity that I've never seen. You both adapt at rates that just aren't seen in our operatives, and your perceptiveness, endurance, and leadership skills are in sync with one another."

"Then give us medals." Xander shrugged it off.

"I'd rather give you both jobs." Gibbons interjected.

"Jobs? I don't know if you know this, but I don't exactly get along with law enforcement." Xander snorted.

"This is an opportunity for you two to repay ol' Uncle Sam for all those freedoms you enjoy. The job is simple. I just want you to meet some people and find out what you can about them."

"What kind of people?" Xander pulled me closer by the wrist. I frowned at the man in front of us and jerked free of him. Just because he looked like Dom and sounded like him, didn't give him the right to touch me unnecessarily.

"Dangerous, dirty, tattooed... Uncivilized. Your kind of people, essentially." My eyes shot up to meet half of Gibbons' face.

"My kinda people?" I asked. "My kind of people? You don't know anything of my kind of people!" I snarled.

"You know what my kind of people would say? Kiss my ass, Scarface." X said, glaring at the agent before us. Gibbons realized that we were both against the idea of helping him.

"Now see, this is usually the part where I pull out my gun and point it to your temples and ask politely. But neither of you strike me as the type to be afraid of death. That puts us in a bit of a quandary, doesn't it?" Gibbons inspected us both.

"Then I guess we can go home." I crossed my arms over my chest, holding eye contact.

"Yeah, I guess we can call it a day, then." Xander agreed.

"Not just yet." Gibbons corrected. He eyed Xander first. "You ever watch lions at the zoo? You can always tell which ones were captured from the look in their eyes. The wild cat." Xander looked uncomfortable, and I could feel myself bristling at the insinuation. "See, he remembers running across the plain. The thrill of the hunt-"

"We get it. You're saying you'll throw him in prison if you don't get him to do what you want. If you don't have something on him, you'll fabricate everything you need to put him away." I interjected. Xander seemed a bit shaken at the thought. I took a step forward to stare at the scarred man. "What kinda threats you got for me, huh? Prison doesn't scare me."

"Actually, I was going to say, you do this... You do this, and your friends can come home. All their records get erased. Not even a speeding ticket will be left. They'll be notified that they can come home. I can't dangle your freedom in front of you, but I can offer you theirs." Gibbons watched me as every word sank in. I could feel tears welling up.

"Dom can come home? Letty? Vince? Leon?" I stared off into space and realized something. "I'll do it. But on a few more stipulations. I get to write a note for them to find. And I don't care how you do it, but you keep my house as mine. I don't care if I'm presumed dead, if I want to come home, I want to be able to go back to that house. Got it?" I stared him down, though my small stature probably wasn't all that intimidating.

"You got it." He grinned. "Now, mister Cage. I can make all your little transgressions go away if you do me this small favor."

"You think, maybe I should be like you. All stand up for the stars and stripes. I bet that flag is a real comfort when you look in the mirror." Xander jibed.

"A small price I pay for putting foot to ass for my country." Gibbons got in his face.

"A country who's leaders let veterans who worked hard to protect their country go starving in the streets?" I questioned. "I'm going to do it for my family, but you should know that if you were to suddenly be no longer fit to serve, your country wouldn't give a damn about you." I gazed at him wit apathy. His eyes turned to me, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

"You might be right about that, miss Guerra. But at least I am trying to protect people when I can." He said before turning to watch a smoking building. "So what's it gonna be triple X? You gonna get on a plane, or is 'kiss my ass, Scarface' your final answer?" Xander seemed to be debating it.

"I'll do it." He said, finally.

"Great!" Gibbons turned around with a smile. "I'll get you on a plane as soon as I can. But miss Guerra will have to meet you there." I eyed him with suspicion. "She's got to get things prepared."


A few days later, four individuals were opening letters in parts of Central and South America, detailing their pardons. They all got in contact with their lawyers, finding the letters to be legit. One man picked up the phone to make a very important call.

"Hey, Mia. I'm coming home. Yeah. We got pardoned. Yeah. Yeah, I love you, too. See ya soon."