The parking lot was deserted. It was dark, making it difficult to see anything. Maes stepped out of his car with a briefcase in his hand. He wore all black, deciding that it would be appropriate for this evening. After all, bloodstains were difficult to remove. Walking towards a dim light above a doorway, he carefully scanned his peripherals and mentally checked where he hid his push knives. He looked at his watch. One minute to ten thirty. Everything had to be timed perfectly or his assignment would be fucked. Maes entered the warehouse. It was pitch black and smelled of stale wood and . . . Maes sniffed. Yes, this was the place.

"Nichols," Maes called in the dark.

There was the sound of a match striking and an orange glow of flame. A cigarette and gas lamp was lit. Nichols was sitting alone at a small desk. Maes cautiously walked to him.

"Show me," Maes said this time.

"I'm not showing you shit until I get the money."

Maes expected this, which was why he needed the ten grand. "Fine." He placed the briefcase on the small desk and opened it.

Nichols leafed through the stack of bills as he said, "I counted the money you gave me and it was all there," he took a quick glance at Maes, "lucky for you. I'm trusting that the twenty-five thousand is all here."

"It's there."

"Fabulous." The dealer took the last drag of his cigarette, stubbed it out on the desk and took the briefcase. He nodded his head to the side, indicating Maes to follow him to the left of the warehouse. They walked to a row of crates covered with a black tarp. The man pulled back the tarp on one of the crates, revealing hundreds of illegal firearms. The smell of gunpowder was very strong now. Pistols and rifles overflowed in the wooden box. They were the same kind that the rebels were caught with. "You're an anarchist, too, huh?" Nichols chuckled.

"Yes." This was a half-lie. He picked up a semi-automatic handgun. "Cartridges?"

"Right here." Nichols produced a box of bullets of a variety of sizes. Maes took his time to pick out the matching size. They would be here soon. He took out the magazine, filled it, then loaded the gun.

"Try it out," the dealer offered. "You want a target? We can go outside and I'll loan you a silencer."

Half of Maes' mouth tipped up in an evil smile. "No, thanks. You'll do just fine." He fired two shots into Nichols' legs.

Five men from behind other crates appeared and began shooting at Maes. He swiftly dodged the bullets and dove into the dark away from the lamp. Someone shot the lamp and all was black.

"Where is he? Where is he?" the men yelled at each other.

"Get him! Get him, you idiots!" screamed Nichols, crumpled on the ground. "Blow his fucking face off!"

The men shot randomly in the dark warehouse. Maes ran as far as he could from the crate of guns. Fools. One shot into that and we're all dead. He felt a bullet whiz past his head from behind. Shit! Come on, Farman, where are you? He spotted a flare from a gunshot and threw a dagger towards it. His aim was true. A man screamed in pain.

Just then, a military truck crashed through the warehouse with three other trucks following suit. The lights of the vehicles beamed onto the men. "Throw down your weapons!" an officer yelled. "This is the State Military! Throw down your fucking weapons and put your hands up!" Twelve soldiers had their guns pointed at every man. The men dropped their weapons, including Nichols, who was pathetically gripping his gun like a bouquet of flowers. The soldiers quickly and efficiently rounded up the criminals to load them into a van that was waiting outside.

"You!" Nichols yelled to Maes. "You fucking backstabber! I'm gonna to kill you!" He struggled to free himself from the soldiers. "Do you know who I am, bitch? That's right, you're a fucking dog of the military, you bitch! Hear that? You're all bitches! I'll kill you all! I know people. Fuck all of you!" He was face to face with Maes. "Fuck you!"

Maes smirked. "Have fun during the interrogation."

Nichols' face went white, then back to red. He continued to scream his string of curses until the van door was slammed in his face.

Farman rushed over to Maes. He saluted him before he said, "Major Hughes, I apologize for the delay."

"Don't worry about it. We finally nailed the bastards."

"You did it, sir. We only came as backup."

"Trust me, you were not just backup. You did good work, Officer Farman." Maes threw off the tarp on a crate and chucked his gun inside. "Now, let's get these firearms out of here. Have them taken to Central and I'll take care of the paper work"

"Yes, sir!" Farman was about to gather the crates, but Maes shouted for him. "Yes, sir?"

"There's something else I need you to do. It's an emergency." Maes handed him a piece of paper. "Make haste. I'll explain later."

He saluted his superior. "Yes, sir!"

Maes nodded his appreciation. He picked up the carelessly thrown briefcase and ran to his car. He tried to start the ignition twice. "Come on, come on, come on." Nothing. "Damn it," he cursed. Ironically, Maes was panicking more at this moment than when he was being shot at. The engine roared to life on the third try. Maes couldn't figure out why he was about to do what he was going to do, why he was feeling the way he felt. He floored the gas pedal as he sped to a little bar in the northern part of West City.

If pure anger could have a physical form, it would resemble Maes Hughes. He wanted to rip Gracia's family apart with his bare hands from limb to limb. He wanted to yell at Gracia for getting herself into this situation without a source of protection. Did she even think about the aftermath? What was she thinking? He took in the sight of a beaten Gracia on the kitchen floor and found that he was angry with himself the most because he should have stopped her.

Gracia couldn't tell if she was dreaming or awake. Was that really Mr. Hughes? Was she delusional? Maybe she was dreaming because didn't he have a drug dealing to go to? Or maybe he did it already. If she wasn't dreaming, why was he here? How could he possibly have known? He was looking at her and her heart was beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

"Gracia," Maes was about to go to her, but she cried, "Look out!"

Ned came running in and bear hugged Maes from behind, bulldozing him into the stove. Ned was large in all ways. He looked as though he was double the size of Maes. Maes shoved their bodies backwards and slammed Ned's back against a parallel counter. The corner hit Ned's spine in the wrong place. Pain shot through his body and he automatically released Maes. Maes elbowed Ned's face.

"Fuck!" Ned screamed. "You broke my fuckin' nose! Betty, who is this shit?"

"Gracia's husband," she answered in an accusing tone.

Ned's eyes widened in realization. "What the fuck?! That money is mine!"

"Shut up, Ned, he's not her real husband!" Betty screeched. "How could someone like him ever want to marry a stupid bitch like Gracia?" Maes walked over to her. "What are you doing?" She started to back up. "Get away from me! Don't you touch me! Pa-"

Maes grabbed her greasy face. "Don't you ever speak ill of my wife, you lame excuse of a female." He roughly shoved her away from him.

"Don't touch my sister!" Ned attempted the same move as before, but he was not fast enough this time. Maes swung around punched Ned in the nose again. While he was hunched over, Maes grabbed his hair and slammed his head against the counter. Ned fell down, unconscious. Maes turned around. Gracia's uncle was sitting behind Gracia, using her as a shield. He had a knife to her throat.

"I'll kill her! I swear I'll kill her! You're going to pay for this," her uncle sputtered, "I'm going to have you killed. You're going to be crying for your mother, wishing you were back in her cunt and never born!"

Maes saw that Gracia's uncle's hands were shaking from loss of blood. He wouldn't forgive himself if there were even one nick on her. "Gracia, close your eyes."

She obeyed immediately.

Maes threw a push knife faster than the uncle could blink. It hit him directly in the eye. Her uncle screamed and fell to the floor. "You bastard! You fucking bastard! I'm going to have you fucking murdered!"

Maes ran to Gracia and knelt down to pick her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Take me away," Gracia whispered.

"You got it, babe." Maes lifted her into his arms and carried her away from her nightmares forever.