Mort waltzed into the building, admiring the lovely redecorating that the KKK had done to the place. Half of the walls were covered in splatters of red paint meant to be blood stains- Mort noted the paint can stuffed in a nearby dresser. The usual threatening messages were also drawn on the walls, like a small child had suddenly felt the urge to scribble LONG LIVE THE WHITE MAN before naptime. In fact, it seemed like they were trying too hard to get attention. Certainly the KKK was public, but they'd fallen out of favor in recent years- with good reason. Yet this particular group wanted to shout its hatred to the world, daring anyone to try and make it think rationally and treat other people like human beings.

Mort pulled out the Twin Scrolls, dusting the barrels off for good measure. It had only been a few hours since they had been fired- they were practically malnourished. Mort turned back to look once more out into the sunny streets. The beams shining through the shattered windows gave the only light in the entrance hall. Outside he could hear Spot resting obediently in the alley, scraping his back against the wall while waiting for his master to finish his work. The Twin Scrolls flashed as they adjusted to the darkness, lending their own eerie blue light to the scene.

Mort stepped forward cautiously. The infiltration was the most important part of a rescue mission- if you fumbled it up, not only would the enemy discover your presence, but the hostage was a goner for sure. You had to analyze the base from inside out like the enemy, think like the enemy, live and breathe and sneeze like the enemy- you had to be patient. Patience was the most important part of the most important of a rescue mission. You couldn't just go in, flailing your guns and shouting, "Hey, you! Let her go!" You had to be very patient, and very quiet…

"PRICK!!!" Mort heard shuffling from upstairs. Dammit, he thought, she figured it out. That girl was back and looking for vengeance- God knows how far away she was, but that voice carried for quite the distance. No telling what was in store for him when she caught up. Mort took a step back and grinned maliciously. All right then, time to do this the old-fashioned way. With a grand leap, he kicked down the door and flew up the stairs, the Twin Scrolls echoing gloriously through the faux-blood halls.

Meanwhile, Rosette burst ahead as Chrono collapsed behind her. She skidded as she spun around to shout at him.

"Chrono! Dammit, we need to move, or we're gonna lose the prick!" Chrono gasped for air as he tried to respond.

"What about… the hostage-" Already impatient, Rosette began dragging Chrono closer to the building- there were gunshots ringing out even now.

"Fuggedabout the hostage! That bastard sent us halfway across the city so he could get the reward for himself!" Ignoring the drunks beside the front entrance, Rosette kicked the door down with a satisfying crash. She nearly dropped Chrono at the site of the room- there was blood everywhere! She fought her stomach's urge to empty itself on the crimson-soaked room, and charged in screaming with a machine gun in one hand and petrified Chrono in the other. The asphyxiated boy sputtered as he spoke.

"You mean he's not with the Magdalene Order?" Rosette finally halted entirely, and let go her grip on Chrono's windpipe.

"You thought the Magdalene Order was one of a kind? We weren't even the first…" She turned to listen to the chaos upstairs. "Most likely he's on his own, but there are other groups, some even bigger than our Order." Chrono took the small time to refill his lungs, but just as he finished his first breath, he felt himself being lifted again- this time it felt a lot nicer, though that was probably just the lack of oxygen. Dreamily, he watched as Rosette stormed upstairs, ready to take on anything they could throw at her, ready to go in guns a-blazing, all for the sake of good. She turned the corner as she heard a voice boldly declare, "Hey, you! Let her go!" She sighed, and dropped Chrono again to have a better handle on her gun. Things were going to get interesting…

"Hey, you! Let her go!" Mort shouted at the hooded men surrounding Ms. Wilson as he waved his guns hopelessly. Unfortunately for him, they had pointy weapons, and lots of them. The odds weren't stacked in his favor; they had the hostage, they had more guns, and he was essentially a sitting duck. This was going to be interesting.

A crash from downstairs gave him a small glimpse of hope. Who knew, maybe the police had done their job and were sending a full squad to help assist him. It sounded like that many people down below. The thing was he only could hear one voice- crap, he recognized instantly. It was Sister Psycho and her funny-haired punching bag. Well, that might be even better. Mort turned back to the hooded men, and gave a big smile.

"Hey there, everybody. Hope I'm not too late for the ceremony!" He watched behind a forced grin as the Klansmen stared. "I'm Mort, I'm a, er, new member, just filed the paperwork yesterday." He cautiously took a step closer towards the circle. "And who is our, our subject today?" Ms. Wilson watched him with fearful eyes, as she struggled against the wooden chair she was bound to.

"Her name is of no importance…Mort." One of the Klansmen answered back, shaking his device dramatically- what looked like a couple of steak knives blended with a whip. All of the Klansmen had strange implements in their hands for whatever sick ceremony they had planned. "All that matters is that the girl is to die for her heinous crimes."

"Heinous, yeah, about that…" Before Mort could finish, Rosette leapt out from behind the corner and fired at the ceiling above them. The Klansmen, distracted by the nun's sudden appearance, turned away from Ms. Wilson. Mort seized the opportunity to grab her and pressed one of the Twin Scrolls against her head.

"Prick! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rosette forced the Klansmen to drop their weapons as she aimed her gun squarely at him. "Collecting my bounty. I need to eat too, if you don't mind." He backed up against the wall, bumping into a large window frame. "In truth, I don't think it's very fair you've got a gun pointed at my head." He whipped out his second Scroll and shot Rosette's gun out of her hands. "Problem solved." While Rosette gripped her hand, he whispered in his hostage's ear.

"Ms. Wilson, I just have one question." The girl's dark brilliant eyes darted back and forth as she tried to take in the whole scene. She was still stuck with a gag in her mouth, and so she could only respond with a frightened, "Mmf?" Mort leaned closer still as he grabbed the chair with both arms.

"Are you afraid of heights?"

"MMF?!" Mort picked up Ms. Wilson, chair and all, and in one fell swoop tossed her out the window of the third floor.