In what was, until recently, an abandoned warehouse, a pair of shiny black boots strode in front of an impressive line-up. The man wearing those boots, Commander Jason Fraser, was ready to start his official inspection and testing. He stepped back 20 paces from the line and began.

"Loki, zit (sit)! Braaf (good boy). Ralph, Loki's collar is shinier than your boots. Why is that?" The commander wasn't pleased to hear that Ralph shined his own boots while his nine-year old son shined Loki's collar. "Perhaps you should take a lesson from your son. I want to be able to see my reflection in your boots next time, Ralph, or your son will be standing in your place sooner than planned." The commander raised his hand to stop Ralph from even offering the standard affirmation of understanding and continued putting the team through their paces.

"Anubis, kom heir (come here)!"

Once Anubis took his position in front of the commander, his handler trotted 100 paces beyond them and suited up. The commander put Anubis through the most basic commands until his handler was ready. Then, he swung around to the right and ordered, "Anubis, halt politie. Halt politie (attack)!" Anubis raced toward his handler and subdued him with ease. His handler was very grateful for the protective gear he wore and relieved when Commander Fraser gave the order for Anubis to release and return.

"Excellent! He is truly the son of our beloved Odin, stolen by one from our own ranks - a traitor who will soon know his full punishment." The commander wondered if it were possible to issue a punishment more severe than already inflicted by the neo-Nazis, but he relished the opportunity to try.

He realized he'd failed to focus properly when he called out an order to the last dog in line.

"Jasmine, zit (sit)!" Wait a minute! What did I just say?" Jasmine?

There was a giggle from the line of handlers that snapped him back to the present.

"Sorry, daddy, but Jasmine and I have been training too and we wanted to show you!"

His shoulders relaxed and his gaze softened as he looked down to properly address his four-year old daughter.

"Cynthia, I am very proud of you and Jasmine, but you shouldn't be here right now. You are supposed to be working on your lessons." He returned to his proper stance and said, "Cynthia and Jasmine… you are dismissed! You better finish all your lessons today little missy or neither of you will get a treat!" He smiled widely as Cynthia marched away with Jasmine prancing proudly by her side.

He turned back to his men and realized that it would be pointless to continue with drills today. He dismissed them with notice that the next drill would be twice as long for the two-legged team members. As he watched them disband, he shook his head. Nothing undermines the seriousness of training more than four-year old with a toy Chihuahua.

So far, they had executed every mission without injuring a single civilian, which was quite a feat considering how many bullets were fired, so the training was proving to be a success. Thanks to their extensive recon, they also managed to hit the stores when they were very low in cash, so the store owner was not left in dire straits; plus, insurance would cover damages for the owners of the stores and buildings.

The commander was at a loss for why the Tall Man in a Suit had completely ignored them. For a guy with a reputation for showing-up precisely where and when needed, he was turning out to be quite a disappointment. They kept their targets within a small radius and fired a helluva lot of bullets. They needed the Tall Man to show up so they could force him to give up the location of Odin, the much-prized sire of the entire K-9 team, who had been lost when a militia member welched on a debt to a neo-Nazi group.

Commander Fraser couldn't help but chuckle as he thought about what had transpired to bring the militia to this desperate action. This whole situation feels almost like a soap opera! We're just missing a guy who comes back from the dead or an evil twin. He allowed himself to imagine, briefly, that the Tall Man was dead. Since that would leave them with no clue as to Odin's whereabouts, he decided not to think about that possibility. What if Odin has become soft during his time away from us? How are we going to get him back when the Tall Man won't show his face? He continued to ponder the situation for some time and wondered if they needed a new approach. Any discussion of that with the others would have to wait until after lunch as Cynthia had appeared to inform him that it was time to eat. It wouldn't be too long before he would discover that a new approach wasn't necessary. The militia's missions had captured the attention of someone who did not aim for the kneecaps.

"Boss, how long are we going to let these cowboys run unchecked? Sure, they haven't killed anybody, but with that firepower it's only a matter of time, don't you think?"

"We are going to let them run amok only until we find them," Elias said with a little more intensity than he intended. His lieutenant wasn't asking any questions that he hadn't already asked himself, but they were more annoying when someone else was asking. There was one question that he didn't mention to Scarface as they suffered from a difference of opinion on the subject: Where the hell is John? Even without loss of life, this didn't seem like something John would just ignore. Perhaps it's time to call my….

"Boss, they just struck again" bellowed Scarface. "This time the store owner wasn't so lucky."

"They killed him?" Elias asked with complete surprise.

"Not exactly, Boss. He got scared into a heart attack. He isn't doing so good."

Scarface could tell by the look on Elias's face that it was time to bow out of the room. The wheels were turning full speed and Elias was plotting his retaliation. Before he would fully commit to a plan, he made a call. No answer. He tried another number and was glad to hear the voice of his chess partner.

"Hello, Harold. How have you been?"

"Fine, Mr. Elias. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Finch asked apprehensively.

Elias smiled, nodded his head slightly and continued, "Alright Harold, we'll dispense with the small talk. What is going on with all these ostentatious robberies? Why hasn't John done anything to squash them?" Elias asked impatiently.

"Mr. Reese is …" Harold searched for the right word, "unavailable at this time." He rolled his eyes then closed them. Well that certainly wasn't the word I wanted.

"Unavailable?" Elias practically screeched into Finch's ear. "What, exactly, would it take to make him available for the task at hand, Harold?" It would take World War III to keep John from… Elias experienced a moment of panic. "Harold, is John…"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss Mr. Reese's status," Harold interjected quickly. "I am investigating the robberies. I will turn my information over to the authorities once I've located and identified them."

While Finch was speaking, Scarface had entered the room and nodded to Elias.

"That will not be necessary, Harold. I've just been informed that my men have located them. I'll be taking out this trash before the day is done," Elias advised Finch.

Before Finch could utter a protest, Elias said he looked forward to their next chess match and ended the call. Finch felt a chill go down his spine. He turned to Bear and said, "I think all hell is about to break loose. Mr. Reese is going to be so sorry he missed it." Wish I could be sorry for missing it too, he thought. Bear responded by perking his ears, licking his chops, and walking over to Finch with a gleam in his eyes. Finch huffed in amusement. "You seem very confident. Do you know something I don't?" Bear just blinked slowly and nudged Finch's hand to get the obligatory scratch behind the ears.