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Author's Note: I'm SO sorry this took me so long! I've had carpal tunnel in both my wrists for three weeks, and I couldn't type or write. Then, when I finally got this done, I couldn't get on the site. So here it is, FINALLY-

-A figure dressed all in black has OC around the throat, and a gun trained on me.-

Thoughts are racing through my head a mile a minute, but not one of them is helpful. The man? Woman? ( I can't tell with the mask on) is too far away for me to kick the gun out of their hands, but too close for me to be able to dodge the bullets that'll be shot at me if I move closer. Tears of fear have started running down OC's face. I don't blame her. Whoever it is has a death grip on her throat. She's trying hard to remain calm though, and the look of controlled fear on her face tears at me. I've spent most of my life with that look on my face, but I'm willing to bet this is the first time she's ever been in real danger. She shouldn't have to be. I make up my mind. I heal quickly from bullet wounds, and it's not like it will be the first one I've ever had.

Forcing my mind into the kind of focus that I usually reserve for my missions, I move forward in a burst of speed. Whoever it is has really bad aim, but a bullet still grazes my shoulder as I land a hard kick to the figure's stomach. They topple backwards, dragging OC down with them, and dropping the gun. Shoving the gasping OC away, they spring to their feet and move into a fighting stance. Brief surprise flicks through my brain. Most people out here don't bother to learn how to fight, they just rely on however many guns they can carry, and let it go at that. That's a question to put away for later though.

The figure charges, aiming for my stomach. I grab their foot and twist it sending them sprawling for a moment before quickly regaining their balance. It's all the opportunity I need. I pivot on one foot and swing the other into their chest as they move into a defensive position a moment too slow. They try to use the momentum to recover with a backflip, but I jump and kick, knocking them to the floor again. This time I pounce, landing on their ribs and knocking the wind out of them.

I snatch away their mask, revealing long blond hair pulled back into a severe braid, and blue eyes filled with hate. Concentration flickers as recognition dawns, and Jondy makes a lunge for my throat. I grab her by her arms and twist, forcing her down again and flip her over, shoving a knee in her back. "What the hell are you doing here?" I hiss. How could Manticore have found me so soon?

"Coming after you baby sis." She sneers at me. An uneasy wave of fear runs through me, but I quench it and slap myself mentally. I have the upper hand here, not her. I should use it.

"After all the times I've kicked your ass, you really thought you could take me on by yourself?" I ask nastily. A flash of hurt crosses her eyes as I tread on sensitive ground, but is instantly replaced by sulky stoniness. Two months ago, or twenty minutes ago, I would never have rubbed it in her face that I was a better fighter than her, but that was before she had tried to destroy my new life. My happy life. I had forgiven her for fighting me when I escaped, but I wasn't sure I could ever forgive her for this, and it made it hurt all the more that there was no remnant of the closeness that we used to have. I stop thinking about that and look around for O.C. Another pang of hurt and loss goes through my heart. She's flattened herself against the opposite wall, and is watching me like she's never seen me before, eyes fearful and confused. I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Boo, could you bring me some rope or something?" Holding Jondy down like this is starting to hurt. The graze on my shoulder that I'd almost forgotten about is bleeding pretty badly, and stinging like a bitch.

She nods slowly and sidesteps out of the room. I look back at Jondy, tears threatening in the back of my eyes. I may have lost my first and best friend, all because Manticore doesn't want to lose one of its science projects. Original Cindy comes back and hands me the rope, not meeting my eyes. I bind it around. Jondy's wrists, anger and resentment bubbling at the girl with her face squashed against the floor. Lydecker should have known better than to send Jondy by herself though. I move her and get to work on her ankles. He knows she doesn't have a chance at beating me in a hand-to-hand fight. That's why she's never sent on anything except basic level recon and diversion missions. I finish my knots and bind my arm. The pieces come together. Recon. Diversions. SHIT!

I leap to my feet, making O.C. jump. How much did they see before they moved in? Enough to know where I live. Enough to know that I would never do anything that would put O.C. in danger. And they must have followed me. Where have I been in the last couple days? I've been here, and work, but attacking out of Jam Pony, or using the workers for hostages would bring them more exposure then they would want to risk. The image that flies through my head of Normal telling Lydecker that he and his men were trespassing on private property would bring tears of laughter to my eyes if I weren't scared to death. I've been to Crash, but that's a public place too. My heart stops dead. I've been to Logan's. Would they be interested in him? Of course they would. I've been there twice in the past 24 hours. I even did some leg work for him last night as a favor. Would they know who he was? I'm not going to wait to find out. I start for the door but turn back, uncertain. Jondy's rolled over so she can watch me icily. I shouldn't leave her alone, or with O.C., and if I turn her loose, she'll come back for me with help, if help's not already on their way. And O.C. shouldn't even be here anymore if Manticore thinks they can use her to hurt me. I bite my lip. I've got to check on Logan, warn him. I study Jondy, then O.C. who's still looking from Jondy to me in bewilderment, but with less fear. We're all pretty small. It would be a tight squeeze, but I think we'll all fit on my motorcycle. Jondy's not going to be too happy about it though. I stride over to her. She opens her mouth to speak for the first time in ten minutes, but I strike hard and fast before she gets a word out. Her body goes limp, unconscious. I pick her up, ignoring the stinging pain in my arm. O.C. is giving me the circus freak look again. She's going to want an explanation for all of this, but it's going to have to wait.

"Max, what-" She starts, but I cut her off with a shake of my head.

"I'll explain everything later, but right now unless you want another run in with another one of these people, you have to follow me." Please trust me. Please believe me. She studies me for a long minute.

"Boo, you and I gotta have a long heart to heart." She glances at Jondy. "But Original Cindy wanna get outta here first." She walks over to me, and follows me as I run down the stairs and out the building, and onto my bike, propping up the still unconsious Jondy between us.

I wip around corners and speed through the streets towards Foggle Towers, fighting a sickening sense of dread. If Manticore saw me do the leg work last night, they're going to find out what it was for, and Eyes Only has been on their hit list for a while. Please let me be in time. Please let him be okay. I can get him to safety if you just let me get there before Manticore. Please let me be in time. I have no idea who I'm addressing, but the repeating monologue circling through my head is all I can think about.

I pull up to Foggle Towers, and try to reassure myself. Nobody unusual is parked in the parking lot, that's a good thing. Still, I can't help but make sure. By the time the engine has died, I'm already halfway up the flight of stairs leading from the garage, completely ignoring O.C., who probably hasn't even gotten off the bike yet, and Jondy, who pitched forward at my abrupt stop and went flying over the front.

I don't have the patience to wait for the elevator right now, and instead dash up the stairs as fast as I can go. If I knock over old Mrs. Moreno, that's too bad for her. At Logan's door, I start to use my lockpicks out of habit, but there's no point, the door's already open. Hardly daring to breath, I fling open the door.

"Logan!" I almost scream. There's no answer. The whole apartment is eerily quiet. Maybe he just didn't hear me, I think desperately. Fat chance.

"Logan!" I start looking for him frantically. Not in his living room, or his office, or his bedroom, the only place left is… I run into the kitchen and instantly wish I hadn't. There's no Logan, but there are some half-washed dishes in the sink. And a shattered wine glass on the floor.

I know, I know, I'm leaving you with another cliff-hanger. Sorry about that, it's force of habit. I still can't type for long lengths of time, but I'm getting better every day, so you shouldn't have to wait so long this time. Hope you liked it!