Tumbler and Kip had taken to walking at around one-thirty, the heat of the California sun too much to handle in the car. They had parked it up in a secure place, and Tumbler had pocketed his keys again, feeling better for eating and getting some coffee, kindly funded by his friend.

As they walked, their eyes searched for advertisements of potential cars for Kip, and as they passed each dealership, they casually glanced about. There wasn't much on offer.

When it hit two o'clock, the two walked by the pier, grateful for the breeze that was on offer there, and watched the cars go by every so often. People passed in couples and groups, throwing the two odd looks, as though they expected to be jumped any minute.

Tumbler looked out at the water, rested forward on a railing with his arms crossed, and listened to the pesky gulls as they passed overhead. Kip stood beside him, hands shoved pensively in his pockets, eyes glancing about as if the perfect purchase would pass him by any moment.

Needless to say, he would be disappointed.

"You planning to do this all day?" Tumbler asked of him, glancing back through narrowed eyes as the sun shone down on them warmly.

The breeze tugging at the hood of his sweater, Kip shrugged. "I guess not. I can't seem to find anything anyway."

"What about that Cadillac we found near Starbucks? That wasn't too expensive," Tumbler offered, finding his gaze wandering the waves searchingly.

Kip shrugged once again, lazily, tired and bored, and said, "Yeah, but I'm not sure I want a Cadillac, you know?"

"Oh, man, you're not sure about anything," Tumbler complained impatiently, hearing the screeching of a car from not too far away. He ignored it. Some people in Long Beach drove like maniacs... himself included at times.

"I know I want a car," Kip retorted confidently, "I just don't know what kind."

"Or what colour, year, size... any of that," Tumbler told him simply, without looking back at his friend.

Tumbler heard a car pull up behind them, and only half-turned when someone grabbed Kip around the scruff of his sweater. Tumbler went to help, met by a punch in the stomach that knocked the wind out of him. He and Kip were thrown forcefully inside a van, and he heard the door slam, and then looked up, finding a gun pointing at them. Tumbler immediately raised his hands, glancing to Kip in alarm. What the hell was going on?

"You Kip Raines?" one man asked, a large dark-skinned man with shadowy eyes and black hair. He was the one holding the gun. The man beside him had obviously bleached hair, and was staring intently, sitting on a low seat, his arms rested forward on his knees. There were two men in the front of the van, but it was hard to pick them out.

"Yeah," Kip replied with a quick nod. "What's this about? We didn't do anything." He looked to Tumbler, who kept quiet.

The second man glanced at Tumbler, and smiled a wry smile at the corner of his mouth. "You'll find out."

Their journey took no more than ten minutes, and before long, they found themselves being pushed out of the van outside of a large warehouse, people milling about here and there, watching them as they were directed to the front door. They stepped inside, the larger of the two men still pointing a gun on them.

Tumbler looked to Kip, and saw that his friend had already noticed the impressive -if somewhat small- collection of expensive cars dotted around, spaced out here and there by the odd motorbike.

They were led towards a metal staircase that wound up to a second floor room with the kind of glass that let you look out from the inside, but was impenetrable to the naked eye from the exterior. The kind of glass you see in detective movies. Tumbler walked behind Kip, and in front of the light-haired man who had hit him back at the pier. The guy had one hell of a right hook.

When at the top of the staircase, the larger man opened the door, and indicated that Kip and Tumbler go inside, which they did obediently, neither too keen on the idea of getting shot. That hadn't worked out too well for Toby, even if he was fine now. It wasn't appealing.

Once inside, the room was revealed as somewhat spartan, furnished only with a desk, three chairs and a coat rack, covered with an expensive cloth coat and a scarf. The scarf was collecting dust, but the coat was fresh and clean, and looked like the kind that cost an arm and a leg to get dry-cleaned.

A middle-aged man sat behind the wooden desk in a leather chair that squeaked slightly when he rocked in it. His hair was receding, and flecked with grey. His eyes were a dark menacing green, and bore through the two younger men almost instantaneously. He leaned forward on the desk, his elbows rested on the wood, and he smiled a cunning smile. He was dressed entirely in black.

"Kip Raines and Tumbler, I presume," the man said, and his voice carried a hint of sarcasm and just a touch of menace. He glanced between the two, and raised his eyebrows.

Kip nodded.

The man smiled, and stood from the desk, pacing around it, and taking to glancing out of the window down at the warehouse below. "My name is Lyle Shepherd."

Tumbler held back the urge to speak, knowing he could be less than subtle with his insults, and that would probably earn him another punch or even a bullet, neither of which he really wanted right now. He kept his mouth shut, and simply watched and listened.

"I've heard of you, in case you hadn't guessed," the man said with a slight laugh that carried across the room. "I've heard about what you can do."

"If you're referring to boosting cars," Kip began cautiously, "then I think you mean 'used to do'. We don't do that anymore."

He turned to them, hands in his pockets, and cocked his head ever so slightly, narrowing his eyes. "Is that right?"

Tumbler didn't even have time to react when the strong hand latched tightly around his neck and threw him against the wall, locking around his throat immediately after, the other hand of the light-haired man gripping the front of his shirt, pinning him.

Kip went to help his friend, but stopped immediately when the gun was pointed at him. The man identified as Lyle Shepherd stared expectantly at him, and waited.

Tumbler choked slightly, and gritted his teeth, trying to pry the strong hand off of his neck without success. He tried kicking out, striking the man twice, finding nothing happened. The man didn't budge, simply held him tightly, seemingly entertained.

"Let him go," Kip said calmly, his voice shaking nevertheless, looking pleadingly to Shepherd. He shifted nervously on his feet, and glanced back over at Tumbler, who closed his eyes tight, and continued trying to pull the man off of him.

Shepherd didn't speak, just stood silently, watching.

"Please," Kip attempted, taking a step towards Shepherd, "we don't steal cars anymore. We can't help you, whatever it is you want, you're wrong. We don't boost now."

"You're living honest," Shepherd said blandly, glancing to the floor, an expression of boredom on his face. "Is that right?"

"That's right," Kip confirmed, even as Tumbler choked again. "Come on, let him go."

There was a long silence, where the only noise was that of the cars outside and the sounds of Tumbler struggling to get free and breathe.

Kip stared pleadingly at Shepherd, and Shepherd stared right back at Kip.

"You're not living honest," Shepherd said to him, "not anymore."

"W... what?" Kip mumbled, not quite sure what he should say, if anything. He didn't really understand. He looked to his friend momentarily, and then back to Shepherd.

"You work for me now," Shepherd continued, "and you do what I say, when I say."

Kip shook his head. He had tried so hard to get out of the life he had foolishly chosen some years back, and didn't want to revert to it again. He didn't want that for him and his friends. They were living honestly, earning a living -if somewhat sparingly- and getting on fine. Until now, it seemed.

"If you don't work for me," Shepherd began, moving across the room to stare out of the other window casually, standing right next to the man who was choking Tumbler, giving them a nonchalant glance, "then he dies."

Tumbler tried to protest, but couldn't form the words, fighting for oxygen, and failing.

Kip was falling into panic now, and trying his best to hide it. "Don't make me do this."

"What's it going to be, Mr. Raines?" Shepherd queried, turning to regard him, looking to the two men at the side of the wall. "Your 'honest' life... or his survival?" He indicated Tumbler with a nod of the head, and raised his eyebrows. "Your choice."

Another prolonged silence, where Kip thought frantically over his options, his mind refusing to take in what was happening.

"You can live with boosting cars, Mr. Raines," Shepherd pushed, voice lower, eyes staring at Tumbler now, watching the younger man struggle to get free, "but can you live with his death on your conscience?"

Kip shook his head vehemently, and then nodded twice. "Okay, okay... alright, I'll do whatever you want. Just let him go, okay?"

Shepherd smiled triumphantly, and patted the light-haired man on the shoulder once. He instantly released Tumbler from the choking grip, and let the younger man collapse against the wall, gasping for air, before he slowly sank to the floor, coughing. Kip stayed where he was, not sure what moving would provoke from the gun-wielding man behind him.

"Now," Shepherd eased, "listen up. Here's what I want from you."