What can I say, STONE? If I can't go with my original plan, I gotta come up with the next best thing.

ROY'S SUV: STREETS OF LOS ANGELES

The son of the great Agent Rustle was driving, Keaton riding shotgun. Sullivan and Quintanez looked at each other while in the back.

Sullivan: "How the hell can those two be getting along, especially after Sam laid Rustle out like that?"

Quintanez: "I get it, Diane. Remember the compound in San Fran? Sam's not a cold-blooded killer, and the fact that this country is under attack by an army of terrorists...it fuckin' scares him. The fact that he has to go up against willing-to-die-for-their-shit motherfuckers like these again: Roy knows how Sammy feels, but he had to do something to snap him out of it."

Sullivan: "So, he played punching bag?"

Quintanez nodded.

Sullivan: "Why are we not driving Rustle to a hospital right now, Miguel?"

Quintanez smirked. Roy looked back at Keaton's comrades.

Roy: "If he wanted to hurt me, he would've hit me a lot harder. Kinda wish he hadn't held back. It'd make for a good fight between him and T.C."

STREETS OF ORLANDO

Spade and Jones had parachuted on top of an old building from their aerial transport, taking out sentries before even touching down. Jones decided to take the stairs while Spade took the scenic route. He took a running leap over the ledge, preparing his backup parachute and his Mateba Autorevolver. Red-dot aim on, the .454 Casull-chambered revolver spat at thugs posted at windows with their AKs and M16s. Jones made things easier for him, taking out tangos with headshots from dual .50 AE Desert Eagles.

As Spade lined up a shot at an unsuspecting extremist, another managed to catch him in the parachute. Spade quickly turned his attention to the thug firing wildly at him and decapitated him with a .454 as he struggled to maintain control of his parachute while dropping fast. Eventually, Spade landed in a full dumpster with a loud 'smash'. While he was trying to recover from the impact, he heard the gunshots cease. Jones must've finished up.

Then a body came flying out of a broken window, its head impacting on the concrete below. Ouch. Talk about some serious hurt.

Minutes later, Jones came walking out, a few cuts and scrapes on his face and his body armor taking a bit of damage. Spade crawled out of the dumpster, clutching his ribs.

"We should be making our exit," said Jones as he noticed Spade, hoisting him over his shoulder and running for it back to a black van that had been parked there and waiting for them for three days.

Rose opened her eyes, seeing a bald black man hovering abover her, trying to wake her up.

"I just saw the strangest thing..."

"Yeah, it's me," said Ty, who had finally revealed himself as Judgment. "Now come on, we gotta relay this to Spade."

Rose finally got up. Her and Ty made their way out of the building and to a black and gold motorcycle. Rose hopped on, locking her arms around Tyrone's waist as he started up the bike and peeled out. The weaponsmith pressed a button on the Bluetooth in his left ear. Moments later:

"Ahhh...Ty, where the fuck are you? You haven't returned any of my calls."

"You made it then, boss?" asked Ty. "Good, because we've got some shit you won't believe."

"Who's 'we?'" asked Spade.

Rose suddenly took the piece out of Ty's ear and put it in her own.

"Dami?"

"Rose?"

"You sound like you're hurt..."

"Falling fifteen feet into a dumpster can do that to you," Spade replied. "Luckily, my new partner here is driving. Say hi, Luther."

Jones grunted as he drove.

"Anyway, Ty has information he needs to pass along to you."

"Tell him to meet me at the usual," Spade replied, before disconnecting the line.