As quickly as his wounded body could carry him he made his way threw Florida Everglades as his pursuers gained on him with uncomfortable speed, the bullet wound too his right leg made things even more difficult as each footfall sent pain screaming threw his body, all of his training would have too be used too stay alive for another day. His body kept screaming 'stop, sit down and rest' while his determination to survive kept him running after all his family was in danger and they needed him.

Quickly he made a left turn and stooped down behind a large bush to avoid a patrol that had been following him for the past five days, although he wanted too run, stopping if only for a moment felt good. As the patrols past his position he sat back and breathed deeply, quickly he reached into his bag and retrieved a small canteen of water after taking a brief sip he jumped too his feet and began to run again until he eventually found a small back road, with a slight smile he looked around to analyse the current situation.

"No traffic, damn it!"

Quickly he pulled the small Glock 17 from his jacket and checked the magazine.

"Nine rounds left, good. Eight in pursuit one bullet each… perfect!"

As he stepped into the road a black 1973 Dodge Charger slammed into him sending him over the hood of the car cracking the windshield, the driver quickly slammed on his breaks and jumped out of the car and ran too the injured man as the passenger leaned out showing no concern.

"Got another run away Mikey?"

"Help me get him in the car Sam, lets see if we can get him too a doctor"

With a final breath of consciousness he looked up the driver and spoke before passing out.

"No Doctor… I need to get…"

His vision began too focus once more as he sat up and examined his surroundings what appeared too be a former warehouse clearly under a night club from the sounds below, fighting the pain rippling threw him, he stood and slowly made his way towards the window before a male voice made his head whip around.

"Good too see your awake, I had a pool running on how long you'd sleep. You owe me 100 Bucks by the way"

"What? How long?"

"About a day and a half"

His eyes widened as he looked at a clock on the far wall the time read 21:32, quickly adjusting himself he realised his time was running out faster then he could imagine. As he turned to exit the door opened as a tall man entered followed by a long dark haired woman, almost by instinct he reached around for his weapon not realising it had been taken from him.

"Looking for this? It's some serious shit you're carrying"

The tall man slapped down the fat old man, obviously he was in charge.

"Sam, let it go.. I'm Michael Weston and you are?"

"Leaving…"

With the young woman blocking his path too the door he could feel the familiar sensation of his fists tightening, the unknown men who took his child must have had help. They came too Miami for a reason, is this it?

"Where is Alison? Tell me or I'll take you apart!"

"What? I got no idea what your talking about Mister?…"

"Webb, just Webb"

The fat older man joined the others as this Michael sat in a rather clumsily patched up chair, slowly he handed him his gun, clip and bullets separately for the first time he had gotten close to this man and he was right, a washed up booze soaked man, perhaps a former marine or navy seal… either way it doesn't matter he would be the first too fall, the woman, a slight trace of an Irish accent, perhaps covered up to blend in. Could this be the safe house he's been looking for? The woman, by the way she moved could obviously fend for herself… British Army at best IRA at worst, now this Weston was a different story reading him was like reading hieroglyphs… difficult but not impossible. Definitely former FBI, NSA or even CIA, perhaps a kindred spirit.

Quickly he loaded a round into the chamber of his gun and sat facing this Weston guy.

"Alright Mr Weston, you've got my attention, who are you?"

"First who are you? We pulled a 9mm bullet from your leg, and a wound that shows it was their for about a day and a half, judging from the scar, you'd been running. We can help"

Webb laughed as he staggered too his feet and began too walk to the door, the booze soaked man stepped in front of him in some vain attempt too stop him, this sent Webb's blood boiling quickly he threw punches, kicks and blocked attacks before this Sam was on the ground, quickly he turned and dodged a fist as he expertly grabbed the woman her left arm and threw her into the wall before turning and grabbing Weston and pinning him too the wall, his fist ready too land the deadly blow, but this man was different he WAS like him, CIA by training.

"I'm gonna let you go now, stop me again, and I'll rip you in half!"

As he released his grip Weston dropped too the floor coughing before standing and calling too him.

"Webb… what ever is wrong, we can help you. Trust me"

"No Mister Weston, you can't I just proved that…"

Three hours later and still aching from the attack earlier Weston and his small team had tried too put together who the strange man was, Sam had gone too check in with a few of his old contacts as Michael and Fiona tried everything they could too find this Webb.

"I got nothing""Same, who is this guy Michael?"

"No idea, I've seen deep cover operatives… Hell I've been one, this guy is defiantly CIA trained, I've never seen anyone fight like that with a bullet in his leg…"

His sentence was cut short by the door opening, as Webb walked back into the room with blood dripping from his forehead, quickly Fiona stood and grabbed a clean cloth as Michael grabbed him before he fell, it wasn't long before once again the door opened and Sam entered carrying a large folder, perhaps too large for Michael's comfort.

"What've you got Sam?"

"Trouble…. All'right I hooked with a buddy of mine from… well I'd prepare not too say I told him about our mystery guest he said he'd look into it, ten minutes later he was dead"

"What?"

"That's not all, this guy has a block on his file so heavy it would weight down the world"

"But you found something right?"

"Yeah… Mikey this guy is bad news… Get him out of here now, every contact who looks into this guy ends up dead…"

"What?"

"Dead as in no longer breathing… pushing up daises… dead Mikey, but I got more"

"Am I gonna like it?"

"Nope… This Webb Character served in…."

"Sam, just say it!"

"Ahh too hell with it. Mikey, It's Jason Bourne"