Chapter 8- Warzone: Hillwood

Arnold paced the subway platform nervously. Hours had passed since he'd talked to Rick and he was worried. Phoebe said that Bridget's left leg was broken in two places and wouldn't be walking anytime soon and Helga was down to her last couple of shells. On the surface above, he could hear the wailing of sirens and the sputtering of gunfire. The news said riots had broken out over the city.

"This is all my fault." He muttered.

He slumped against the wall and held his head in his hands.

"Bull." Gerald said.

He leaned over and put his hand on Arnold's shoulder. His clothes were torn, dirty and partly singed. Bridget's handgun was tucked into his pocket with the safety off just in case.

"You had nothing to do with this and you know it."

"Don't beat yourself up Arnold." Phoebe said.

"Oh let football head wallow in his own self misery." Helga said.

"Helga would it really kill you to be a little sensitive?" Gerald snapped.

"I think Arnold needs to take himself off the pedestal he puts himself on and join us down here in the real world." Helga said.

She crossed her arms and stared at Arnold angrily.

"It's always about you isn't it? Like the world seems to revolve around you, whenever something bad happens to someone it seems there's always you could have done to stop it. If that's true Arnold then why didn't you?"

Arnold said nothing. He just stared at the dirty floor of the platform. Helga sighed and kneeled down next to him.

"You can't save everyone Arnold. No matter how hard you try, there'll always be someone who falls through your fingers."

Arnold sighed.

"I know." He said quietly. "It's just… I hate feeling so useless."

"You're not useless Arnold." Helga said. "Don't let anyone ever tell you that."

Arnold looked up at her with a confused expression on his face, taken aback by the completely uncharacteristic thing Helga had said to him. Gerald cocked an eyebrow at her and Phoebe beamed at her. She turned a violent shade of red and stood back up.

"H-have you heard from that brother of yours yet football head?" She asked nervously.

"N-no. I'll try and call him." Arnold said.

He stood up and took Bridget's mini PDA out of his pocket. He scrolled down to "Ricky Baby" and pressed call. It rang for a moment then Rick's face appeared on the screen.

"Bridge?" He asked.

Arnold could hear the faint crack of gun fire in the background.

"No it's me." Arnold said.

"Hey Ricky Baby!" Gerald yelled behind him.

Rick looked confused.

"Wha- Oh! That, right."

"Where are you?" Arnold asked.

More gun fire.

"I'm- shit. Hold on."

Rick set the PDA down, stood up and fired his handgun at somebody, the spent casings clattering on the ground next to the PDA. Rick slid a new clip into his handgun and racked the slide back.

"Arnold? I gotta go; I'll be there in like ten-

More gun fire.

"Uh, make it twenty minutes."

The PDA went hissed and went black.

"Wow." Gerald said. "Glad he's on our side."

Rick nudged the PDA with his foot and turned it off. He took cover behind the car and stuck it back in his pocket. The gang members had him out numbered about ten to one. Their weapons were in poor quality and seemed to be jamming a lot, giving him the chance to open fire with his Glocks. But every time he took one down, two more popped up.

"Like cockroaches." Rick muttered.

The gunfire ceased as the gang members either reloaded or tried to unjam their guns. Rick broke cover and sprayed both clips from his Glocks into the car they had hidden behind, hitting the gas tank and nuking it. The car went up in a fireball, crisping the poor souls who hid behind it. Rick reloaded his guns and took off up the street before more could come to their aid. The city had gone to hell pretty quick, there were riots, looting and several cases of arson. The sky had turned red and the night air was filled with the sounds of gun shots and screams. He couldn't do anything about that though, the cops were on the hunt for him as well, being the "terrorist" responsible for it all.

That word has become so popular of late… He thought.

He turned the corner and jogged past a fire truck trying to put out an ice cream parlor before it completely burned down, which for some dark reason he thought to be funny. He passed an ambulance as a pair of paramedics lifted a stretcher into the back of it. Rick had grown up in warzones, which hardened him over the years, negating any feelings of remorse towards the dead and dying that peppered the city. He wasn't heartless; there was just nothing he could do for them. All he needed to worry about was his mission and making sure Arnold got to his parents, he didn't really care about Arnolds little friends. Gerald didn't really grasp onto the aim/shoot concept and Phoebe wouldn't shut up.

That Helga girls pretty cute though… Too bad she's hot for Arnold. He thought.

He hadn't said anything of course but he could see it in her footsteps and how she talked. When he first met her he was sure she was a cold bitch but now she's just annoying.

He turned the corner then immediately stepped back. A police barricade had been set up at the end of the street and right behind it; the entrance to the subway platform Arnold and the others were hiding.

Rick chuckled darkly to himself.

"Of course…"

He drew his Colts and walked up the street.

"There he is! Open fire!"

Arnold almost jumped out of his skin as the sound of automatic gunfire erupted on the street above.

"Where the fuck did he go?!" A voice called out.

More gunfire with the occasional scream thrown in.

"Where-?"

"Up there!"

More gunfire and then… silence. Footsteps echoed on the stairs as a shadow appeared. Gerald's hands fluttered to the handgun as Helga pumped the shotgun.

"At ease kids." Rick said as he came down the stairs.

He holstered his handguns and held his hands up, his typical smug smile painted on his face like a Norman Rockwell painting. Helga lowered the shotguns with an annoyed sigh and Gerald saluted him. His smile widened as he walked over to them.

"You're not gonna let me live the nickname down are you?" Rick asked Gerald as he kneeled next to Bridget.

"Nope." Gerald grinned.

"Well now were even." Rick replied.

"Like he-

Rick ignored him.

"Bridge? Can you hear me?" He asked softly.

Bridget's eyes fluttered open slightly

"Rick?" she said quietly.

"No, I'm the grim reaper come to rake your soul to purgatory with all the unbaptized babies" He smiled.

"Asshole…" she muttered.

He laughed lightly and pulled a small syringe from his pocket.

"Where is she hurt?" He asked.

"Her left tibia and femur are broken." Phoebe said.

Rick nodded and stuck the small syringe in her leg.

"What is that stuff?" Phoebe asked, fascinated by the faint silvery glow.

"The new sensation that's sweeping the nation." Rick replied.

He injected the stuff into her, Bridget gasped and clasped onto his hand. Her leg shook violently as her bones snapped back into place.

"Yeah, that sounded like it hurt." Rick smiled softly.

He slowly helped Bridget to her feet. She wobbled on the spot then stood up straight. She sighed professionally as she regained her posture and snapped her fingers at Arnold and Gerald.

"Gun and PDA."

They both handed them to her at once. She stuck the pistol in her holster and punched in a number on her PDA.

"Johnson this is Bridget, clearance number 00-342-261. Have the calico ready for us at the air field within the hour."

She turned the PDA off and put it back into her utility belt. She drew her handgun and checked its ammo as Rick tossed her a few extra clips and handed Helga a new box of shells.

"Ready?" He asked.

"How bad is it up there?" Bridget asked.

"Pretty bad, seen worse." Rick shrugged.

"Let's go."

They left the subway and stepped out onto the street. Phoebe gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth as a chopper roared over head then went down on the next street over. The sky was still a violent shade of red and was choked with black smoke. What was once a police barricade was still smoldering in flames across the street.

"Yeah things are pretty bad…" Rick said.

"We have to get to the airport. I arranged for transport to take you out of the city and wherever you need to go."

More gunshots and screams.

"How do we do that?" Gerald asked.

Rick jogged over to the barricade and opened the driver's side door of a SWAT car.

"Keys are still here." He called. "These things can with stand any small arms fire. Should get us where we need to go."

They nodded and joined him inside. Rick and Bridget rode up front with the others in the back. Before they left, Rick looked around in the back of the SWAT car and handed Arnold a Beretta 92FS and Gerald a Five-seveN handgun.

"If you have to, use them." Rick said.

Before they could protest, Rick hopped out of the car and slammed the doors shut. He got into the front next to Bridget and turned the car on.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Let's go."

They traveled through the city as fast as the heavy car could go; most of the rioters ignored the giant machine, sticking to looting and burning. Every time they passed a blockade, Rick would turn on the siren and speed up as though he was rushing to be somewhere then slow back down when he turned the corner.

"So far so good." Gerald said.

Rick sighed.

Jinxed. He thought.

As he drove up the ramp that would take them to the Airport, a helicopter shined its searchlight on the SWAT van.

"Stop! In the name of the law!" A familiar voice boomed on a speaker in a mocking tone.

Rick looked out his window and saw the grinning face of Michael Totone.

"How come he gets a frickin' helicopter?" Rick asked.

He strapped his seat belt and told the others to hold on. He floored the accelerator and sped up the ramp as the machine gun on the chopper opened fire on them. Bridget grabbed a Desert Eagle off the dash board and opened fire on the chopper as Rick zigzagged through the crashed cars on the ramp.

"Keep it steady!" Bridget said.

"I'm trying!" Rick hollered as he swerved to avoid a flaming car.

"Use this, it's bigger!" Rick said handing her the Kalashnikov.

She pulled back the receiver and unfolded the stock. She aimed at the blades of the Chopper and fired in short controlled bursts.

"You okay back there?" Rick called.

"Oh yeah, why don't you come back and join us?" Helga said as she was thrown to the floor of the van. "It's a big old party back here!"

Rick turned to say something snarky then saw a M32 MGL grenade launcher hanging on a weapons rack.

"Actually…" Rick said.

"Take the wheel!" He said to Bridget.

"Wha-

Rick climbed out of the driver's seat and into the back with the others. He grabbed the grenade launcher and loaded it with Incendiary rounds. He slung it on his back and walked over to the back doors of the van.

"Wish me luck!" He smiled at the kids.

"What are you gonna-

Rick kicked the doors open while the car was still moving and pulled himself onto the roof. He carefully pulled himself to his feet and took aim with the MGL. Michael spotted him and opened fire with the choppers machine gun. The huge caliber bullets sprayed around Rick like rain drops, the sweeping of the chopper causing them to miss. Rick aimed through the sights of the MGL and clicked his tongue.

"Later Shrek." He muttered.

He pulled the trigger and the grenade flew out of the barrel, hitting the top of the chopper and sending it spinning out of control. Inside the cock pit, Michael cursed, shoved the body of the choppers previous pilot out of the way and jumped out into the water under the ramp. The helicopter sputtered then crashed into the bridge about twenty yards ahead of the SWAT van, taking a large chunk of the bridge with it.

"Oh… crap."

Rick tossed the grenade launcher away and carefully maneuvered back into the interior of the van.

"What happened?" Arnold asked.

"An awesome explosion, I'll tell you about it later." Rick said.

He got back in front of the van next to Bridget who starred daggers at him.

"Rick, what the hell?" She fumed.

"I'm sorry, okay?!"

"Well hold on, things are going to get bumpy." Bridget snapped as she shifted gears.

"Children?" Rick called to them in the back. "You might wanna grab onto something things'll get… bumpy."

Phoebe squeaked and grabbed onto Gerald's shoulder and Helga subconsciously grabbed onto Arnolds hand and squeezed. Bridget floored the accelerator to the point where it almost snapped and the van rose into the air, flying over the gap of the bridge. Time seemed to slow down for everyone. Arnold could hear his heart beat slowly, then, he heard something beat in rhythm with his, slightly faster at first then slowed down and beat in unison. He felt the vibrations start in his hand then pulse throughout his body. He looked down and saw Helga's hand clutching onto his. He opened his mouth when suddenly, the van smashed onto the ground and screeched to a violent halt, throwing Arnold to the ground and pulling Helga on top of him. His eyes shot wide open as he felt her lips contact with his.

"That was WAY better than any theme park ride. Excellent driving babes." Rick said as he quickly got out of the van

Bridget scoffed at him and followed him out. The two of them opened the back door of the van and gasped, or in Rick's case, snorted at what they saw.

"Oh my…"

"Wow."

Helga felt her face go off like it had been lit on fire. She looked at them, back at Arnold who was in a daze, over to Phoebe who blushed and smiled, and then at Gerald who looked like he had just had an epiphany.

"Ew, get away me foot ball head!" She screamed.

She stuck her foot under Arnold and kicked him off of her and out of the SWAT car. Rick caught him and helped him to his feet as Helga got out of the back. She grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and made a move to punch him, her eyes burning with a mad fire.

"Don't ever touch me again you hear me?"

"Wha- what happened?" Arnold asked.

"Helga made you a man Arnold." Rick laughed.

The look Helga gave Rick would have shattered a mirror and turned the glass into dust but he didn't seem to notice. Bridget punched him in the shoulder to shut him up.

"As long as the car can still move, let's head to the airport." Bridget said.

Rick nodded and followed her back into the front of the SWAT van and Arnold and the others got into the back of the vehicle, Helga sitting as far away from Arnold as she could and glared at him the rest of the trip. Her face remained red and she tried to get her heart to stop beating. Awhile later, they pulled into the airport and drove to the last runway on the strip where what looked like a smaller version of a black hawk helicopter waited for them.

"Well, this has been fun." Rick said.

They got out of the SWAT car and greeted the pilot, a pretty woman about the same age as Bridget if not a little younger.

"Sure you won't come with us?" Rick asked Bridget.

"My place is here. I didn't realize FutureTech had such a grip on the city. I have to be here to watch over it." Bridget said.

"Johnson will take you where you need to go."

"Thanks for everything Bridget. It was great to see you again. I just wish it was under different circumstances."

"Me too." Bridget smiled.

She wrapped her arms around Arnold and hugged him good-bye.

"Arnold." She whispered. "Trust no one and listen to what Rick says. He may not look it but he's smart and you'll need him to help you find your parents and stop FTI from whatever they are planning."

"Thanks. I will." Arnold promised.

She released him and shook his hand.

"I hope we'll meet again." She smiled.

She turned to Rick, who smiled at her in the way that made her heart race and want to kick the crap out of him at the same time.

"You better come back in one piece you hear me?" She threatened.

"Yeah, yeah."

Arnold wasn't sure, but as he boarded the helicopter, he could have sworn he saw the two of them kiss, if only briefly. He sat down in a seat next to Gerald, across from Phoebe and Helga who continued to glare at him. Rick got in and sat down next to the pilot.

"Where to?" She asked.

"Mexico City." Rick said.

He reached into the jacket of his pocket and took out a small envelope. He reached inside and took out a photograph of the man who was his and Arnold's father, the woman who was Arnolds mother and a Hispanic man with a mustache and slight beard.

I'm coming for you… Rick thought.