A/N – Hey everyone. Well, I finally managed to crank out another segment to this silly story. My apologies for the delay, but I had other things to think about besides writing these last few weeks. This was also quickly edited, so I also apologize for the errors that are no doubt in there.

Ta, J.

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"Ranger!" Stephanie scrambled to get up off the floor, but the house gave a sudden heave, and she tumbled down toward the overflowing toilet. She cried out in disgust and horror as she rolled into the warm, sticky mess. It was like being submerged in porridge, only without the comfort factor.

God, she thought hysterically, this stink is never going to wash off! Then she saw Ranger, bleeding on her living room carpet, and decided she had nothing to complain about.

She got to her feet, took a step, and immediately fell down again. She tried three more times, unsuccessfully, to get on her feet. She finally gave up, and managed to half crawl, half slither out of the mess.

She was just regaining her footing when something fell into her hair. Something small and wriggly. Something alive. It was quickly joined by two other somethings. Things were falling all around her, making muted plopping sounds as they hit the floor.

She reached up into her hair, and pulled out a worm.

Slowly, she looked up toward the ceiling. It was covered in worms. It was a pink, writhing, seething mass of wormy flesh. It undulated and flowed like water. And the sound they made! – it was a not quite dry, not quite wet, slithering sound. It was the sound Ranger had heard before he had been shot.

It seemed she had a worm infestation after all. Darn Grandma Mazur for mentioning it – Bella must have cottoned on, and thought it was a good idea.

A worm fell on her forehead then. Realizing that standing around slack jawed underneath a ceiling full of worms wasn't something she wanted to do, she clamped her mouth shut, aimed her face toward the floor, and ran to Ranger.

He was still alive, and it looked like the bleeding was slowing down, but he was very pale. Clearly this wasn't just a scratch they were dealing with this time. He took in her bedraggled appearance, and his lips quirked briefly. "Only you, Babe," he said. His voice was slightly laboured.

"Don't talk," she told him. She blinked rapidly, trying not to cry.

He looked up to the ceiling, and winced. "You have a worm infestation."

"I said don't talk," she repeated. "What if a worm falls in your mouth?" She reached forward to put pressure on his wound, but drew back almost immediately. Her hands dripped with ick. "I'm afraid to touch you."

"Best you didn't," he said. "I don't - " He winced horribly. " – want to stink either."

She choked back a laugh, horrified that he would try to make a joke at a time like this. Ranger's sense of humour was, to put it mildly, a bit warped. She looked around for something to wipe her hands on, and finally settled on the carpet. The house immediately gave another rending shake. Worms rained down on them, pelting off their skin.

"Ugh!" she grunted. She ran her hands through her hair to dislodge the uninvited vermin, and instantly regretted it; food-sticky curls and gunk on hands didn't mix. It took several good tugs to get her fingers free. She rubbed them on her shirt, but that was no good either; there were worms stuck in whatever stuff she had just rolled in.

"Okay, Babe?"

"Sure." She eyed the floor nervously; a pinky-brown wave was moving toward them in a slow creep. She bounced helplessly on her knees, trying to keep panic at bay. "Are you okay? What can I do? God, Ranger, I don't know what to do." Okay, so the bouncing didn't help. In fact, it seemed to be bouncing the tears out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

"Just stay calm," he told her. "Everything - " He sucked in air. "- is okay." he finished.

"Don't be an idiot," she snapped. "Of course it isn't okay."

"My men will come," he told her. She could tell he was trying for a soothing tone, but his pain was getting the better of him, and it came out sounding strained.

She didn't doubt that his men would come, but she feared the Merry Men would be too late to help either one of them. By the time they got here, she and Ranger were going to be smothered by worms. Or Ranger would be dead from the gunshot wound.

She had to get him out of there. If only she could break the window. She looked briefly at Ranger's gun, lying by his side.

"Don't even think about it," he said.

"I could throw it through the window," she said. "It's heavy enough to break it."

"No."

"But - "

A sudden tapping noise made Steph jump five feet in the air. She looked at the front window, and saw Marge Shifton, her nosy neighbour from the across the road. She was standing in Stephanie's garden, her face pressed up against the glass. She held a pair of binoculars in one hand, and a cell phone in the other. A Beretta peeked out of the pocket of her robe.

"I saw someone trying to break through your front door!" she shouted. "I wrote down the license plate number of the car one of them drove away in. I came over to see if you wanted the plate for the... for the..." Her voice trailed off as she squinted at the ceiling. "Why is your roof moving?... Holy crap! Are those worms?"

Deciding there was no time for explanations, Stephanie shouted, "Call the police! And an ambulance!"

"I already called the cops," Marge said. "I've been calling them all day – told them a bunch of thugs were stealing Bella's furniture. Then tonight I caught two of them poking around in my bushes, waving gadgets and looking all sneaky."

"So are they coming?"

"Who? The thugs?"

"The cops!"

Marge looked irate. "Cops said they had enough of my calls – said they wouldn't come. And they said that if I called them again today, they'd book me on nuisance charges." She sniffed disdainfully. "Can you believe that? My taxes pay their salaries, and this is the thanks I get. I tell you, one day they'll ignore me, and I'll be murdered in my bed. Only then will they learn."

Stephanie wanted to cry in frustration. "Call them again," she said. "Ask to speak to Joe Morelli. Tell him I need his help."

Ranger didn't look impressed. "Babe."

"I know, I know! But what choice do we have?"

"We can wait – for my men," he grunted stubbornly.

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "Oh, for Pete's sake, Ranger."

"I was talking to Morelli," Marge interjected angrily. "He's the one who told me to bugger off."

She gaped at her neighbour. "Joe... won't help me?"

"Help you? What about me? First they steal your furniture, and then it's on to the old widow's house across the street! What do you need help for? You've already been cleaned out – all you can do now is wait for the insurance cheque."

"Call him back!" Stephanie shouted. "Tell him Stephanie needs help! Tell him I need an ambulance!"

"What for? You look alright to me. You know, except for all those worms in your hair, and all that shit on your clothes."

"Not for me! For him, goddamn it!" She gestured angrily at Ranger.

"Who?" Marge stood on tiptoe, nose, binoculars and phone pressed against the glass for balance. "Hey! That's that scary fellow you were chewing the lips off of this afternoon. He doesn't look so good."

Ranger made a pained sound that probably wasn't entirely brought on by the gunshot wound.

"You're right," Stephanie shouted, speaking slowly and succinctly. "Our phones are down – and we're trapped in the house. We need the police to come get us out. We would like to get out." The last was said through clenched teeth.

Clearly the urge to inform was stronger than her aversion to arrest, for Marge immediately let the binoculars fall around her neck before dialling 911. Two seconds later she was scowling at the Blackberry. "Damned piece of foreign Canadian shit," she shouted. "Battery's dead. I swear I just charged the thing." She shook it, as if hoping the physical motion would somehow recharge the battery.

Ranger and Stephanie looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Chances were good that Marge didn't forget to charge the phone. Their thoughts were confirmed when, a second later, foreboding laughter filled the house.

Marge paused in mid-shake. "What was that?" she asked.

There was no time to answer. From down the block, there came a sudden screech of tires, and the sound of several high powered engines red-lining as they barrelled down the street.

"Finally," Ranger said. He gave his head a mild shake. "Can you help me, Babe? I've got worms – trying to crawl – in my ears..."

While Stephanie fished the worms out for Ranger, five black SUVs came to a precision halt in front of her sidewalk. Within moments, the lawn was covered with what looked like a tactical unit. Men scaled the fence and rounded the house to secure the back yard, while others took up positions on the street, keeping the road clear of cars and onlookers.

"I think they're setting up base camp," Stephanie said, straining to see out the window past the sea of black. Something that looked like a tent was being erected over the front walk.

Ranger sighed a little; military efficiency wasn't always a blessing. "Where's Tank?"

The large man was already at the window. He assessed the scene indoors quickly, and looked none too pleased. "You gonna live?" he asked. He sounded offhand, but his expression was anything but.

"I'll be fine - if these worms - don't smother me first," Ranger replied.

Tank grunted. He pointed to Hal, and ordered him to get the front door open, and sent more men around the back to work on the back door. It was only then that he saw Marge standing next to him. She was clutching her gun, phone and flashlight to her chest in an uneasy way. He nodded to her, and said, "Ma'am." Marge squeaked, and immediately took off for her house, bathrobe flapping.

Lester wandered over then. He took one look at the ceiling, and whistled. "That old lady doesn't know when to quit," he said. He saw Stephanie and Ranger then, and his eyes widened. "What the hell happened? She shot you?!"

Despite his pain, Ranger looked dangerous. "Santos..."

"How long has he been down?" Tank asked Stephanie.

This annoyed Ranger even more. "I can answer – for myself."

"About five minutes," Stephanie replied, ignoring him.

"It's – just a scratch," he insisted. But his eyes closed, and stayed closed.

Stephanie looked down at him, and forgot what to say in response when she saw the pool of blood slowly spreading out from under him. "Ranger? Ranger!" She shook his shoulder, and got no response. She immediately looked at Tank, terrified. "He's – I think - "

Tank didn't say anything. Instead, he pushed Lester out of the way, thudded out of the garden, put his shoulder down, and charged the door. The already ravaged wood blew apart on impact. Tank stumbled into the house in a hail of splinters, promptly collided with the edge of the tub, and fell in. There was, surprisingly, water in the tub, though Stephanie had no idea how it had gotten there.

"What the fuck!" Tank, being so large, didn't really fit in the tub, but his head and shirt were well soaked. He extricated himself from the tub, and promptly slipped in the toilet mess, which by this point had meandered to the front hall.

By the time Tank got himself upright, the living room was packed with Rangeman employees. Stephanie found herself shoved out of the way as Bobby Brown knelt down beside Ranger, medic kit in hand. Ranger quickly disappeared from view as his men surrounded him.

There was a lot of activity which she was hard pressed to see. "Get that stretcher in here!" she heard Brown shout. She caught a glimpse of him shoving a large padded bandage under Ranger's back. "Call ahead to emerg – tell them we'll be there in five minutes."

"Ranger!" She tried to break through the wall of black, but couldn't. And he didn't answer. When she finally saw him, as he was being loaded onto a stretcher, she saw that he was unconscious. His men handed him around the tub; two men immediately ran him to one of the larger vehicles, and slid him inside. Tank crawled in beside him. All the other men in the house gingerly stepped around the puddle of ooze, and stood on the lawn to watch the vehicle speed away.

Stephanie tried to follow the others, but was stopped by Bobby. "Are you alright?" he asked her. He gently pushed her face up and to one side, and frowned at the bruises around her neck. He also wrinkled his nose a little, and she was sure it wasn't because her injuries disgusted him.

"Is Ranger going to be okay?" she demanded.

Bobby didn't answer her. "Let's get you out of here, okay? Ranger asked me to look you over, make sure you were okay."

She sighed a little in relief – so he had been conscious enough to speak to Bobby. That was good news. "I want to go to the hospital."

He looked surprised. "Are you that badly hurt?"

"Not for me! I want to be with Ranger!"

"Whoa, honey!" Bobby said, grabbing her. "Slow down!"

"No! I've got to be with him! I - !"

Her words became a screech of horror and disgust when all the worms on the ceiling and walls fell down upon them.

It hurt to be hit by so many worms all at once; it was like being hit with water, and the force of the creatures pushed them both down onto their knees. Stephanie raised her hands to shield her head and neck, amazed at how long the worms continued to fall. Surely there weren't this many worms on her ceiling! But it was a good ten seconds before the deluge slowed down to a random smattering. She gingerly lifted her head, and was shocked to find she was almost buried in her crouched position. She stood up quickly, and began brushing herself off frantically.

"What the FUCK!" Bobby hollered. He danced from one foot to the other, knee deep in worms. He swiped at his hair madly, trying to get the critters out. "Awww, fuck fuck fuck!"

The eerie silence was suddenly filled with laughter. Stephanie panicked; but it wasn't Bella. A crowd of Merry Men stood in the doorway, laughing at them. At first shocked at the injured state of their boss, they were more than happy to find sudden levity, and they were taking advantage of Bobby and Stephanie's misfortune. The only one who didn't look amused was Hal; he stood there, the pry bar still in his hands, his face turning green.

"You are such a pussy, Brown," someone commented. "It's just a bunch of bitty worms."

Bobby was wading his way to the door. "They're fucking slimy!" he shouted. "Someone get a hose!" His foot met the ooze from the toilet, hidden under the worms, and he fell down, disappearing completely under the invertebrates.

Stephanie, angered at the guffaws this display produced, stepped forward to help Bobby to his feet. He came up spluttering, spitting out worms. "Gross! Eew! They taste and smell like... old lady!"

This was met with great hilarity. "I didn't know you were familiar with the taste of old lady!" came an anonymous comment, though it sounded suspiciously like Lester. There was more laughter, and some groans.

Steph wasn't laughing. Bobby was right; the worms smelt like an old lady's perfume and body odour. And they were a bit slimy. Or maybe they had just picked up some residue off the floor around the tub.

The two of them stepped carefully, but between the toilet offering and the spilt water from the bathtub, they were on unsteady ground. Stephanie slipped and fell to one knee, crying out. At the sound of her voice, the men forgot they still had a job to do, and immediately sprang into action.

She smiled in relief as she reached for their outstretched hands. But before one man could step across the threshold, a face suddenly appeared. It loomed at them, filling the entire doorway. It was skeletal, tattered flesh and muscle dripping from its cheekbones, eye sockets empty and dark. Its jaw fell open, and it screamed in Bella's voice, "GET OUT!"

The sight of ten large and burly men falling over themselves to get away would have been amusing under different circumstances. As it was, it wasn't very funny to Stephanie, especially when she saw most of them were jumping into their vehicles and speeding away. "No! Come back here!" Stephanie shouted at them.

The skull turned on her. Stephanie immediately blanched, and fell back on her butt. Beside her, she heard Bobby inhale sharply, and mutter, "Sweet Jesus."

"You get out, too," the skull said. A moment later, Bobby was moving through the air as if being carried by invisible hands. The skull moved out of the doorway, and Bobby was thrown out, like a drunk from an old west saloon.

Stephanie frantically crawled toward the door, intent on getting out before she too was pitched out onto the sidewalk. But a pair of thin legs covered in support hose suddenly appeared before her, blocking her way.

She looked up. Bella stood over her, smiling. She held a club in her hand. It looked like what Fred used to clonk dinosaurs with on the Flintstones.

"You aren't going anywhere," she told her. And before Stephanie could offer any kind of protest, the club came down on her head, and it was lights out.