13
"Well, well, well." Tara's blood chilled, the frosty tingle trickling from the top of her chest to the tips of her toes, at the call of the very man she thought she left long behind. "Welcome to God-given Israel."
The figure down the hall was gnarled, the folds and flaps of the sleek, black poncho shifting into other folds as he moved awkwardly. He was hunched over, a bulging arm set in some kind of restraint, as if it were in a sling, and it kept making small taps and rattles every time it touched his chest. A strange, whining creak came from a leg as he hobbled toward her.
"Ah." the hunchback looked her over with a strange, milky eye, shifting in its mangled socket, "now I remember that face. You're the one that troublesome Asian took pity on over a month ago. Grazed in the foot, am I right?"
Her throat tightened. She took a step back, her breathing shallow and heart quickening its pace, and she carefully moved her wedges in a proper stance, just like Yune showed her. The hood of the poncho dropped a bit.
"Yep," it bobbed, "there's that scar, right on the edge too."
Her toes curled into little fists and her fists tightened as it stepped closer.
"Hmm." it came out like a quiet, rumbling growl, "I remember that posture-- that stance! So when did Yune get out of lockdown, exactly?"
She narrowed her eyes, and the thing let out a laugh the shook her to the bones. It stood up as straight as possible, shifting its head back upon its bobbling shoulders. The black hood slipped off his head, falling to a flattened heap circling around his neck. --And her stance almost crumbled at the sight of that disgusting, twisted visage. The burns, the scars, the shrapnel; it was too much.
".All the better for me." She gazed at that sunken, scrambled eye squarely. and she wanted to keel over on her wobbly knees. "Now that I've personally buried that troublesome *shikse*, did good old Hershel send him out for me? Not that it matters to me much, but I think you'll make good Asian bait."
The good arm shifted underneath the black material, rattling a bit, starting from the side to his front. She pushed a lump back down her neck, clenching her fists tightly.
"Shia should be thanking you, saving his sorry candy-ass and all that." The scars smirked. "If you'll come with me, please."
"No.." she shook her head gently, never losing focus. much. "I won't!"
--With incredible speed, the disgusting man already had his fingers jammed into the top of her dress. She could feel the sticky leather of his gloves rub between her breasts, and he reared his metal head back--
--*THUNK!! *--
--And she could barely feel the carpet on her skin as a great, throbbing pain swelled in her crown. Something warm trickled down her forehead quickly, gently tracing the curves of her face, running down her pointy chin where it dripped upon the top of her chest. Her cringing eyes just managed to catch a runny patch of crimson atop them man's head, oozing down the tip of one of the large shards.
The scary man said simply, running a finger up the makeshift blade. He looked at the shining red strangely, curiously like a child.
"I just had these polished." He shook his strange head awkwardly, the sheer weight crowning his stubble forcing his neck to bob and weave in strange arcs. His boots made their first clomps toward her as his heavy head steadied upon that gnarled neck. "Not that it matters anyway."
--All the air, her breath escaped her as a quick and sudden force struck her in the side, turning her over onto her belly. Her dry eyes winced as the strong sore burnt through her torso, swelling painfully as her muscles struggled for precious air. His dirty, muddy boots touched down on opposite sides of her arm, and she felt the bones push into the bicep as he jammed it into the crook of his knee. Her wrist turned counter clockwise, pinky taking lead and her elbow locked uncomfortably.
"While we're on the subject of dear old Bin-Mok," he grunted, "I'd like to see how this little technique of his works."
--And words couldn't describe the pain, as it came out in a loud, discord of a cry.
***
"Yune," Kim said softly, "could you snap a shot of the group up there? It might come in handy sometime."
"Oh sure." the Asian rolled his dark eyes behind those almond slits, "let me just whip my good old digital camera out of my ass. I'm not sure anyone's told you, Kim, but I didn't pack anything of the sort."
"Just use the Kimmunicator." She said sharply, and her hands rummaged gently inside the leathery sack till her fingers touched upon hard, angled plastic. "You don't have to be an ass about it."
Its shell made a hollow *clomp* as she touched it upon the table, pushing it towards its glass encompassed centerpiece. Tan fingers took it into grasp, dark eyes running over it strangely.
"Just point the screen, and shoot." She said. "I'd like to get that girl in the frame too, find out who she is."
"That might be Bonnet's girlfriend, if I remember correctly." He shrugged gently. "I think her name's Robin, but don't bet the house on it."
"Don't worry." She said. "I won't."
Yune's good arm arced out from his body, handling her PDA as if it were a can of aerosol spray. A knuckle twitched, and the device let out a humming buzz and a little *click*, the very tip flickering a tiny dot of blinding white. The tablecloth rumpled and wrinkled, the PDA traced lopsided circles on the table as it spun toward her, half its shell teetering on the round edge.
It would have broke, if she didn't have the sense to snatch it up.
"Gee--thanks." she frowned, and she dropped it in her handbag.
"You're welcome." He sniggered. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm calling it a night."
"Me too." the nearby chair screeched gently--and Ron stood straight up, arms outstretched for a yawn. "Hope T's got some snacks up there, cause I'm hungry."
"Yep--yep!" the rodent nodded. "Food!"
--Her body trembled; her ears shrank at the terrible sound that erupted nearby, from out of the ballroom. It was a terrible sound, an earsplitting scream of pain as if a limb had been broken. The terrible band whipped their heads toward the rear, even the black girl paid it mind. The centerpiece shook--and Rufus hunched over on his bald, hind legs, shivering as if he'd been outside in the chilly cold. Yune dug into the flaps of his jacket, head trained toward the rear set of doors.
"Uh--" Ron's flat voice droned stupidly on, "what was that?"
"Sounded like T!" he frowned, his good arm flopping to his side like a dead limb. Bits of glass crunched as he eased the chair back, jumping to his feet with a pistol in hand. "Come on!"
The Asian jogged for the door as quietly as he could as the blond stumbled clumsily after, nearly tripping over a splintered leg of a chair with his little buddy hanging on literally by the seat of his pants. Carefully, she stepped quickly through the cumbersome field of broken glass, feeling every piece of it crunch through the thin soles of her shoes.
"Kim!" The blond gestured wildly over his hoarse whisper. "Hurry-- up!"
"Ron!" she hissed quietly, as she carefully glided around a splintered, upturned table. "In these pumps, this *is* hurrying!"
***
Deep down, Uzi discovered a new found enjoyment--a fulfillment that surged through him like lightning--as the *shikse* pummeled the carpet with her free hand, while he forced the useless one up from the crook of his leg. The sheer pain twisted on her delicate face, the blood oozing down those stunning curves, and the utter mockery of beauty was astonishing. He always wondered why Tristian enjoyed work as an interrogator, and finally he knew.
"Come on, wench!" he snickered. "Scream for me!"
He inched the twisted limb up a few centimeters, and the blonde let out a nice, delicious squeal.
"See.?" he chuckled. "Was it really so hard?"
"Get off me." the words came out garbled and stressed through those pretty, trembling lips, "you *FREAK*!!"
"Now that's not very nice," he grunted as he moved the limb a bit more, "IS IT?"
The girl whimpered quietly, and she pushed her face to the carpet. Bits of crimson dripped onto the carpet in little drops, pooling on it in a little, flat circle.
"I'll take your silence as a yes." He nodded.
Something buzzed close, by his ear like the tiny wings of a housefly. He angled his head complementary to the ear, and up to the ceiling. A lone fly circled the electric lamp aimlessly, like its moth counterpart to the flame. After its possible third lap around the encasement, the tiny dot in the still air floated down the hall to the next lamp--
--"What the--?"
His grip on the girl loosened, and the girl tore away from his fingers the second their grip turned lax. There was that traitor, playing dumb as he gawked at him with big, frightened eyes in front of the door that hanged by a weakened hinge--
--But that didn't hold his attention enough as he saw a pistol trained on him with a steady hand, at the next set of doors up the hall. The eyes behind the average bore almond slits, dark eyes beaming the pure maliciousness of the man's resolve.
"YUNE!" he growled.
"Tara! RUN!" the Family traitor called--and he unleashed a small, copper dome at him with a small bang from the gun, a puff of smoke pluming out the barrel in a brief cloud. The air grabbed at him, tugged at his flesh as the bullet zipped by, smashing into the wall with a *crack*!
"Ah." that small remnant of feeling returned to his leg, "so that's your new wench's name. I should remember that."
His good arm reached across his body, scooping up the hem of his poncho as he bent at the waist. As he straightened his spine, he worked the poncho's hem over his left shoulder, packing the nylon tightly by his neck. Boy the look on the Asian's face was priceless; those tan, narrow slits were as wide as saucers while he hoisted the sling up and off his awkward head. The combat load fell to his side, taking his shoulder with it as his body fell at the waist like a bendy straw.
"Okay, Yune!" he snickered loudly, briefly. With fingers wrapped tightly around the carry handle, he hoisted the heavy gun up with a huff. "*You* RUN!"
--He nearly fell on his butt, and smoke clouded his eyes as the whole hallway disappeared behind a blinding, yellow veil of gunfire. Cordite polluted his nose and hot shells ran down the length of his leg. Like boulders, barely he could see thick chunks of rocky, white plaster tumbled onto the packed carpet, crumbling at the foot as his Mauser rounds pounded into the wall.
"KILL MY FAMILY, WILL YOU!?" he yelled at the top of his lungs.
***
Crumbs of soft white touched upon Yune's cheek, and he dove back into the hall for cover, taking the redhead down to the gold carpet with her. Plumes of smoky white swirled into the ballroom at the sound of falling chunks of wall, thundered over with the sound of machine gun fire and accented softly with the gentle tings of falling brass, colliding into each other on their way down to the floor.
"RON!" he called. "GET DOWN--!!"
He didn't have to say it twice, as he felt the boy's weight crash down upon him like a limp sack of potatoes, rolling off his back onto the carpet with a flop. His breath came out in a hollow grunt, his deafening ears barely twitching at it.
The smoky miasma of plaster overwhelmed them like the morning fogs of the Pacific, northwestern coasts. The terrible band had abandoned their instruments without a care; he saw the portly blond run out the broken doors just before the clouds encompassed them--
"RUN!!" that unmistakable squeal of that curly top strangely overpowered the gunfire, as if the maniac had ceased his assault instantly.
"*Uh*." the blond beside him breathed. "Is he dry yet?"
"I'm not done with you, Shia!" the punk exclaimed. "Get back here! Little punk."
"Guess that's a yes." Kim mumbled from underneath. "Get off me, Yune!"
"Bin-Mok!" that accented voice called to him boldly, as if the voice of God almighty had parted the vastness of the heavens and spoke to him directly.
"What.?" he grunted flatly, suspiciously.
"Oh. so you're still alive, after all." The punk said pompously. "Damn it."
"Would you have it either way?"
".Good question." The punk said with a mocking thought. "I've got to think about that."
"What do want?" he called loudly.
"Nihilism, my good man." The kid replied simply. "A pure and simple world of chaos and honor, where a man of my stature can finally be appreciated! What this slab of sand needs right now, if you ask me. But I'm not at liberty to talk about that."
"Don't give me that crap!" he barked.
"Easy there, Yune." the kid said smoothly. "I'm in charge here. Besides, you don't want to *worry* your girlfriend's head off, now would you? I must say she does have pretty head though. So serene. so gentle; it'd be a shame to ruin it. Would you still love her, even if she had a face as nasty as my dad's?"
"She's done nothing, Drazen!" he rolled his body off of Kim's, his legs tense and ready to hoist him up the instant his back pressed against the floor. His grip strangled the Daewoo, and it made a small staccato of clicks as he thumbed the claw hammer. The world shrank around him, compressing into nothing more than a series of long, winding moments where only he was the star. "Leave her out of it!"
"Or you'll what?" the kid challenged. He clenched his teeth together through his lips, tightening his throat around a convoy of profanities and insults. "Play Rambo?"
There was a moment of silence; so tense he could cut it with a kitchen knife.
"That's right." The punk said in calm, collected drawl. "She doesn't have to die needlessly, does she?"
His hand was slick with moisture, the gun slipping around inside his clammy palm. The cat clenched his tongue tighter.
"Y-Yune.!" the frail voice of his love grunted out. His heart quickened, and the grip on the gun softened at the mere sound of her. "Shoot him! Hear me.? SHOOT HIM!!"
"Be quiet, T!" he shouted. "Don't talk that way!"
"Forget about me--!" she yelled. "I'm dead anyway.!"
"T!!" his firm voice trembled at the thought.
"Well, I wouldn't say that just yet." The kid said indifferently. "I'm feeling a bit generous tonight, so I'm just going to let this kitten go back home to master. Cops are coming and *Shabbat's* tomorrow, you know."
"He's one to talk--" Ron said inwardly, bitterly, a finger wiggling in his ear like a stiff worm. His eyes popped open as the auburn capped a hand over the boy's wide mouth.
"I know your tricks, Yune!" the punk exclaimed. "Don't try any of them!"
"Fine.!" he spat.
"Keep that little kitty on a tight leash there, Yune." the kid said with a chuckling call. "She's a feisty little thing, isn't she?"
Something of his rattled, and there came a soft shifting as if a piece of cloth was being drawn across another. The awkward, muffled patting of footsteps and a steady creaking came in from the hallway, the volume a decrescendo. Nothing abnormal, nothing forced, and a small, creaking squeal from a hinge far away confirmed the punk's word. His lungs gladly let out a sigh of relief.
"All right." he breathed quietly. "I'm going to go look. You two keep quiet until I say."
Kimberly nodded, as did her blond friend behind her cupped hand. Quietly, he pushed himself up onto his feet, the slicked gun taking lead as he approached the door. His knees buckled, and he hunched at the waist as his folded legs carried him toward the doorframe. Smoothly he turned the corner--
--*BLAM! *--
--And a few more bits and pieces of plaster graced his clammy cheeks as the all-but-demolished wall exploded a mere inch away. Metal-head himself stood there proudly (for a hunchback), at the end of the hall a few feet away from the door ajar, his Baby Eagle breathing out a wispy ribbon of gray.
"Ah." the punk let out a soft chuckle, "that never gets old."
The hunchback turned awkwardly around on that creaking pole of a prosthetic, and he hobbled out the parted door without a thought. But the simple thought of another surprise clicked not like the Daewoo as it fell upon the carpet. Tara was bleeding badly, and though he couldn't have been sure, he swore his dry eyes caught the sight of crimson in her ears.
*Just hold on, T. * he thought repeatedly. *I'm coming! *
***
"*Aw*--!" a dull squawk came out from the back of Tara's mouth, her tight muscles flinching as her man wrapped the bandage tightly around her crown. "Easy, Yune!"
"Sorry," her heart fluttered weakly at the sight of his warm eyes, "but you need it badly."
"True," her features twisted gently as the man gave the tail of bandage a final tug, pulling it smoothly over her forehead before his teeth awkwardly graced it with a clamp, "but you don't have to pop my head like zit though."
"Sure don't." her body was stiff as it hopped a bit, as Yune took to her side upon the mattress rather roughly, plopping his lean form on the comforter as if it were a trampoline. "Your head's too pretty to be a zit."
"Thanks." her eyes rolled, "I think."
Her chest tingled at his touch, Yune drawing her left arm across her body by the hand. A corner pulled her lips into a tiny, warm smile as she turned on her side.
"How's the arm?" he asked gently.
"The joint feels a bit strange," she said softly, "but overall, it's fine."
"Yeah," he nodded, "it'll feel odd for a few minutes, but you should be in good shape."
"Should is the keyword." Her lips dropped naturally back into place.
"Yep."
"I'm sorry." The corners of her lips dropped into a small frown, and a dark shadow draped over her at the voice of the auburn. "But can I have your cuddle-buddy for a sec?"
She sighed as her eyes took a lap around. "Sure."
"Sorry, Tara," Her back met squarely against the soft comforter, and her legs seemed to drop a few inches as her man sat up and hopped off the bed, "but duty calls."
"I. know." Pain swelled at the fore of her crown as she hoisted her torso off of the bed, hunching at the waist. "*Uh*."
"Take it easy, T." the Asian said gently. "You've been through a lot this evening."
"Yeah." Slowly, she moved a foot to rest atop the opposite knee. "I know."
Her fingers worked the buckle on the ankle strap loose, the wedge dangling by the thick, crossed straps over her toes. With a simple dip by the ankle, the shoe tumbled to the plush carpet on its side, coming to rest by her other foot just as she brought it upon the other knee.
"Feet are killing me." She flopped onto the soft bed the second her other foot was free.
"Poor T." he said flatly.
"Indeed..." Kimberly said indifferently.
"Is this going to take long, Kim.?" he yawned. "I need my rest."
"Of course." The auburn said. "I won't take long."
"So what's up?"
"Hershel is paying us a visit tomorrow." Kim said flatly, her tone a soft growl at the name.
"Great." He said apathetically. "So?"
"She'll be here to give us a briefing and whatnot," the girl's voice was thick with reservation, "but."
"But what?"
"I'd like Tara to go back home."
Her eyes popped wide open. Her back was straighter than a board, and she pulled her trunk straight up.
"Huh.?" she blinked.
"You heard me right, Tara." The girl folded her arms, her emerald eyes gazing at her evenly. "I'd like you back at Middleton pronto."
"Why?" she protested. "What've I done?"
"You're a liability, Tara." The girl turned her head away. "Already you've got hurt. What if you end up dead because of this?"
Yune bowed his head, shaking it gently.
"I couldn't live with myself if that happened."
"B--But." she stuttered. "What about Yune? What will he do without me?" She hopped off of the bed, an ankle twisting oddly a bit as she stumbled over her own shoes. Her open arms took the lead as she hurried over to him, eyes brimming with a thin line of tears. She cupped her hands gently onto his shoulders. "Tell her, Yune. Tell her you need me! Please!"
Yune kept his eyes closed, his head angling away. "She's. right, Tara."
She blinked. "What.?"
His hand cupped around her waist, her hands slid down his shirt as he eased her back a step.
"I'm sorry, T." his head shook gently. "But she's right."
"But, Yune--!" the room around her seemed to move strangely, her head feeling so much heavier as the words sank in.
"T." he said softly, "Tara. I love you more than you can imagine, but. I can't risk you getting hurt because of this work. Uzi knows about us, and he'll exploit it anyway he can."
"But he'll kill you!" she protested.
"He'll kill both of us." He said. "Tara, please. just go home!"
"I don't want to--!"
"Tara!" Kimberly yelled loudly. "This is not a conversation! Do it!"
"FINE!" she yelled, crossing her arms tightly with her nose in the air. "If you want me home that badly, then I will!"
Her fists clenched, her body hunching over while her muscles twisted her visage into a mask of pure anger.
"But if he comes back in a body bag, YOU'LL BE SORRY!" she yelled.
"Tara, calm down--"
"NO!" a few drops slipped through her lids, her voice at the top of her lungs. "If he doesn't come back home, I'LL KILL YOU IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO, KIM! I SWEAR!"
Kim looked hurt--actually hurt, just by her advances to the back, her square gaze broken, shaken, as if her outburst had suddenly came out of the blue. How incredibly stupid, she thought. The girl shifted her quivering eyes away, onto Yune as he walked closer to her.
"Kim," he said softly, "could you give us a few minutes?"
"But--" the girl stuttered, "I didn't mean to--"
"Kim.!" he pressed.
"Right.." The auburn nodded. "My apologies."
The girl put one foot behind the other, and she spun on her feet as if she had served the military. Her hips rolled her out of the room, through the large doorframe as the Asian gently closed the door behind her. There was a little *click* as he thumbed the squared deadbolt.
--And she threw herself upon the boy's chest, snuggling into his firm trunk as soon as he turned around. A warm feeling flowed through her body, soothing her, as did the man's arm around her waist.
"What's going on, T?" he said. "Why are you so sad?"
"I don't want you to die!" she nestled her head into the valley between his muscles. "This land's dangerous! If the VSA don't kill you, someone else will--I know it!"
"Tara." he combed his fingers backward through her hair.
"Promise me. you won't die!" she cried. "Promise me!"
"T." he whispered, "you know I can't."
"Please, Yune!" the cloth ran down her face, the friction heating her the tip of her nose as she looked up at him. Never had his eyes looked so solemn before, not ever. "For me.?"
"Tara." he held her closer, and she could feel the faint thumping of his beating heart. Oh how it soothed her greatly. "I can't control what happens to me during my time here. I don't know the hour or the day when I'll finally go, but just remember this: as long as I love you, part of me will be with you always, and you with me. Though we maybe so far away, we'll never be so closer."
Tears touched the corners of her weak smile, his face so blurry and shifting through the watery veil. Tears never felt so good as she closed her eyes, snuggling her face back into his firm chest.
"Thank you, Yune." she lowered her head, enough so that her lips were free from his trunk.
"For what?" he asked.
"For. everything." She breathed. "You're a really great guy."
"I guess.." he said modestly.
"But Yune?"
"Yes?"
"You really need a better pinstripe." She giggled softly.
"*Uh*." she giggled harder at that sigh, "Yes, dear."
***
"*Ugh*--!" Hershel grunted aloud, into the speaker of her foldout cell phone. "No, Mr. Ambassador, I haven't had any word over who murdered your lawyer friend."
"What do you mean no word!?" the grump of an American exclaimed rather gruffly, like the bark of a big, working dog. "My friend is dead-- the ACLU is throwing a fit--and all you can say is 'no word'!?"
"Mr. Ambassador," her eyes rolled behind her narrowing brows, her voice a throaty sigh, "you're talking to the wrong person. I'm with the Mossad--not the police--as in it's--not--my--problem!"
"The *hell* it's your problem, Missy!" the grouch yelled. "If my government hasn't had enough problems with your fence and settlements, guess what kind of firestorm will happen once they know an American's been killed on the Israeli soil!"
"What's left of the soil, you mean!" she growled the retort. "After your Road--Map--to--Nowhere gets done with it!"
"I'm going to pretend you never said that!" the grump mumbled back. "You'd be wise ease off!"
"Oh yeah!?" her fist clenched tightly around the phone. Never had the stressed plastic sound so close before. "Who's going to make me? Your treacherous judiciaries! HA--! That's a laugh!"
"Don't test me, Missy!" he growled. "If those terrorists of yours had anything do with Dixie's murder, you can bet the US will touch down on your coasts--WITHOUT HESITATION! Do I make myself clear, Missy?"
"Clear as day, Mr. Ambassador." She flatly replied. "And Mr. Ambassador?"
"What?"
"My name's Ariel--not Missy!" she yelled.
"Your name could be Missy Elliot for all I care, you little--!"
The grouch had no time to finish his retort at all, as she closed her phone like a castanet. Yet there came a small something from out the receiver just before it clicked shut, possibly a curse, but her will to know dropped, as did her phone into her jacket pocket. The clock was ticking, and Uzi possibly hobbled to his next move already.
*Ugh! This diplomacy crap will be the end of me! *
"What was that... *ah*... about?" the auburn asked halfheartedly, yawning it out.
"Aw... didn't get enough sleep, did we?" she folded her arms, her neck angling her head as she let it drop. "Tough shit. We got work to do."
"Well, you don't have to be so mean about it!" the auburn's blond friend dropped in his two cents. He laid there on the bedspread, flat on his back with his bare arms angling his head up awkwardly. "We'll be happy to help. Be a little nicer, okay?"
"How can I be nicer!?" she threw her arms into the air. "Suicide bombers are blasting my country apart, the UN's riding up on its ass, the US government hopped on the bandwagon over a murder--and if that isn't just fine-and-dandy for normalcy--we've got a fighter jet lost in the Negev!"
"What?" the redhead sat up quickly, twisting at the waist towards her.
"Approximately 24 hours prior to your arrival, an IDF F-15 was shot down over the Negev desert." She explained. "The pilot was killed instantly. And we have no clue if either VSA or a Palestinian group fired the rocket. The guys back at headquarters are still compiling their BDA."
"Hmm." the auburn drew circles in the comforter, the emerald eyes bowing away from her, "why do I get the feeling there's more to this than a simple missile strike."
Her neck straightened her head, pulling it back upon her shoulders.
"The jet was carrying a payload."
"What kind of payload?" The girl looked up at her squarely. "Biological, Chemical."
She cringed at the girl's next word.
"Don't tell me nuclear!" she exclaimed.
"Even I don't know what the heck that plane was carrying." She shook her head. "My orders and details come from my superiors, and even their information comes from a cut-out."
"Great!" the girl's body twisted around on the bed, her straight legs dangling off of the bed like boards and she buried her face into her hands, hidden by the puff of her hair. "So we've got a potential nuke threat? Isn't this just one big cake walk?"
"Welcome to my world, Kimmie.!" she sighed.
"So what if we got another complication?" the blond sat up briefly, and the bedspread dragged toward the foot of the bed as he scooted toward it. With a little grunt, he hopped off of the bed. "We'll get through it."
"Easy for you to say." The girl cocked her head back--and her brow kinked at a faint jingle. "Where do you think you're going?"
She turned, and Ronald stood there naturally with a set of keys dangling in his hand. He turned 90 degrees, and walked for the black duffle by the closet.
"It's *Shabbat*, Kim." He bent at the knees, and his hand dipped into the wrinkly bag. It came out with a blue and white prayer shawl, complete with the ratty fringes. "The Sabbath day, and just as the good book says, I must keep it holy lest I die."
"I thought you were supposed to rest today." She pushed her chest up as her legs dipped further. "You know, hang around and do nothing."
"Exactly." The blond nodded. "And I can't think of a better way to rest than at the Wailing Wall down in Jerusalem."
Her brow kinked again, just as the brow was about to fall. "And. just how are you getting there?"
"Sadie, of course." He nodded. "How else?"
"Now hold up, Ron." The redhead pushed herself to her feet. "I know you're pretty much strict when it comes to your Jewish roots, but Tara's flying back home today come this afternoon. And just how do you expect she'll get to the airport?"
"Don't worry, KP." He waved a hand, and his knees bent while his other set of fingers dove back into the bag. "I'll send Sadie right back to you when she drops me off. She can pick me up before midnight."
"But Ron--"
"Let him go, Kim." She said. "If the S.A.D.I. doesn't show up in time, I'll take Ms. Stark myself."
"Pf." the girl rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself."
"Just be careful, Mr. Stoppable." She said. "Israel's had a surge of drug related crime in the past month. So do yourself a favor, and keep away from the checkpoints."
The boy nodded as his hand came out with a black yarmulke. He pressed it on his head carefully as he walked for the door, keys in hand with the shawl draped over his shoulder as if it were a towel. Hershel actually felt something as the boy twisted the knob, strolling out the door without a care. She couldn't place it; for something like a mere second, a peaceful bliss had eased her troubled mind, a peace she hadn't known for a long, long time.
"Glad to see someone keep the faith." she smiled weakly.
"Well, well, well." Tara's blood chilled, the frosty tingle trickling from the top of her chest to the tips of her toes, at the call of the very man she thought she left long behind. "Welcome to God-given Israel."
The figure down the hall was gnarled, the folds and flaps of the sleek, black poncho shifting into other folds as he moved awkwardly. He was hunched over, a bulging arm set in some kind of restraint, as if it were in a sling, and it kept making small taps and rattles every time it touched his chest. A strange, whining creak came from a leg as he hobbled toward her.
"Ah." the hunchback looked her over with a strange, milky eye, shifting in its mangled socket, "now I remember that face. You're the one that troublesome Asian took pity on over a month ago. Grazed in the foot, am I right?"
Her throat tightened. She took a step back, her breathing shallow and heart quickening its pace, and she carefully moved her wedges in a proper stance, just like Yune showed her. The hood of the poncho dropped a bit.
"Yep," it bobbed, "there's that scar, right on the edge too."
Her toes curled into little fists and her fists tightened as it stepped closer.
"Hmm." it came out like a quiet, rumbling growl, "I remember that posture-- that stance! So when did Yune get out of lockdown, exactly?"
She narrowed her eyes, and the thing let out a laugh the shook her to the bones. It stood up as straight as possible, shifting its head back upon its bobbling shoulders. The black hood slipped off his head, falling to a flattened heap circling around his neck. --And her stance almost crumbled at the sight of that disgusting, twisted visage. The burns, the scars, the shrapnel; it was too much.
".All the better for me." She gazed at that sunken, scrambled eye squarely. and she wanted to keel over on her wobbly knees. "Now that I've personally buried that troublesome *shikse*, did good old Hershel send him out for me? Not that it matters to me much, but I think you'll make good Asian bait."
The good arm shifted underneath the black material, rattling a bit, starting from the side to his front. She pushed a lump back down her neck, clenching her fists tightly.
"Shia should be thanking you, saving his sorry candy-ass and all that." The scars smirked. "If you'll come with me, please."
"No.." she shook her head gently, never losing focus. much. "I won't!"
--With incredible speed, the disgusting man already had his fingers jammed into the top of her dress. She could feel the sticky leather of his gloves rub between her breasts, and he reared his metal head back--
--*THUNK!! *--
--And she could barely feel the carpet on her skin as a great, throbbing pain swelled in her crown. Something warm trickled down her forehead quickly, gently tracing the curves of her face, running down her pointy chin where it dripped upon the top of her chest. Her cringing eyes just managed to catch a runny patch of crimson atop them man's head, oozing down the tip of one of the large shards.
The scary man said simply, running a finger up the makeshift blade. He looked at the shining red strangely, curiously like a child.
"I just had these polished." He shook his strange head awkwardly, the sheer weight crowning his stubble forcing his neck to bob and weave in strange arcs. His boots made their first clomps toward her as his heavy head steadied upon that gnarled neck. "Not that it matters anyway."
--All the air, her breath escaped her as a quick and sudden force struck her in the side, turning her over onto her belly. Her dry eyes winced as the strong sore burnt through her torso, swelling painfully as her muscles struggled for precious air. His dirty, muddy boots touched down on opposite sides of her arm, and she felt the bones push into the bicep as he jammed it into the crook of his knee. Her wrist turned counter clockwise, pinky taking lead and her elbow locked uncomfortably.
"While we're on the subject of dear old Bin-Mok," he grunted, "I'd like to see how this little technique of his works."
--And words couldn't describe the pain, as it came out in a loud, discord of a cry.
***
"Yune," Kim said softly, "could you snap a shot of the group up there? It might come in handy sometime."
"Oh sure." the Asian rolled his dark eyes behind those almond slits, "let me just whip my good old digital camera out of my ass. I'm not sure anyone's told you, Kim, but I didn't pack anything of the sort."
"Just use the Kimmunicator." She said sharply, and her hands rummaged gently inside the leathery sack till her fingers touched upon hard, angled plastic. "You don't have to be an ass about it."
Its shell made a hollow *clomp* as she touched it upon the table, pushing it towards its glass encompassed centerpiece. Tan fingers took it into grasp, dark eyes running over it strangely.
"Just point the screen, and shoot." She said. "I'd like to get that girl in the frame too, find out who she is."
"That might be Bonnet's girlfriend, if I remember correctly." He shrugged gently. "I think her name's Robin, but don't bet the house on it."
"Don't worry." She said. "I won't."
Yune's good arm arced out from his body, handling her PDA as if it were a can of aerosol spray. A knuckle twitched, and the device let out a humming buzz and a little *click*, the very tip flickering a tiny dot of blinding white. The tablecloth rumpled and wrinkled, the PDA traced lopsided circles on the table as it spun toward her, half its shell teetering on the round edge.
It would have broke, if she didn't have the sense to snatch it up.
"Gee--thanks." she frowned, and she dropped it in her handbag.
"You're welcome." He sniggered. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm calling it a night."
"Me too." the nearby chair screeched gently--and Ron stood straight up, arms outstretched for a yawn. "Hope T's got some snacks up there, cause I'm hungry."
"Yep--yep!" the rodent nodded. "Food!"
--Her body trembled; her ears shrank at the terrible sound that erupted nearby, from out of the ballroom. It was a terrible sound, an earsplitting scream of pain as if a limb had been broken. The terrible band whipped their heads toward the rear, even the black girl paid it mind. The centerpiece shook--and Rufus hunched over on his bald, hind legs, shivering as if he'd been outside in the chilly cold. Yune dug into the flaps of his jacket, head trained toward the rear set of doors.
"Uh--" Ron's flat voice droned stupidly on, "what was that?"
"Sounded like T!" he frowned, his good arm flopping to his side like a dead limb. Bits of glass crunched as he eased the chair back, jumping to his feet with a pistol in hand. "Come on!"
The Asian jogged for the door as quietly as he could as the blond stumbled clumsily after, nearly tripping over a splintered leg of a chair with his little buddy hanging on literally by the seat of his pants. Carefully, she stepped quickly through the cumbersome field of broken glass, feeling every piece of it crunch through the thin soles of her shoes.
"Kim!" The blond gestured wildly over his hoarse whisper. "Hurry-- up!"
"Ron!" she hissed quietly, as she carefully glided around a splintered, upturned table. "In these pumps, this *is* hurrying!"
***
Deep down, Uzi discovered a new found enjoyment--a fulfillment that surged through him like lightning--as the *shikse* pummeled the carpet with her free hand, while he forced the useless one up from the crook of his leg. The sheer pain twisted on her delicate face, the blood oozing down those stunning curves, and the utter mockery of beauty was astonishing. He always wondered why Tristian enjoyed work as an interrogator, and finally he knew.
"Come on, wench!" he snickered. "Scream for me!"
He inched the twisted limb up a few centimeters, and the blonde let out a nice, delicious squeal.
"See.?" he chuckled. "Was it really so hard?"
"Get off me." the words came out garbled and stressed through those pretty, trembling lips, "you *FREAK*!!"
"Now that's not very nice," he grunted as he moved the limb a bit more, "IS IT?"
The girl whimpered quietly, and she pushed her face to the carpet. Bits of crimson dripped onto the carpet in little drops, pooling on it in a little, flat circle.
"I'll take your silence as a yes." He nodded.
Something buzzed close, by his ear like the tiny wings of a housefly. He angled his head complementary to the ear, and up to the ceiling. A lone fly circled the electric lamp aimlessly, like its moth counterpart to the flame. After its possible third lap around the encasement, the tiny dot in the still air floated down the hall to the next lamp--
--"What the--?"
His grip on the girl loosened, and the girl tore away from his fingers the second their grip turned lax. There was that traitor, playing dumb as he gawked at him with big, frightened eyes in front of the door that hanged by a weakened hinge--
--But that didn't hold his attention enough as he saw a pistol trained on him with a steady hand, at the next set of doors up the hall. The eyes behind the average bore almond slits, dark eyes beaming the pure maliciousness of the man's resolve.
"YUNE!" he growled.
"Tara! RUN!" the Family traitor called--and he unleashed a small, copper dome at him with a small bang from the gun, a puff of smoke pluming out the barrel in a brief cloud. The air grabbed at him, tugged at his flesh as the bullet zipped by, smashing into the wall with a *crack*!
"Ah." that small remnant of feeling returned to his leg, "so that's your new wench's name. I should remember that."
His good arm reached across his body, scooping up the hem of his poncho as he bent at the waist. As he straightened his spine, he worked the poncho's hem over his left shoulder, packing the nylon tightly by his neck. Boy the look on the Asian's face was priceless; those tan, narrow slits were as wide as saucers while he hoisted the sling up and off his awkward head. The combat load fell to his side, taking his shoulder with it as his body fell at the waist like a bendy straw.
"Okay, Yune!" he snickered loudly, briefly. With fingers wrapped tightly around the carry handle, he hoisted the heavy gun up with a huff. "*You* RUN!"
--He nearly fell on his butt, and smoke clouded his eyes as the whole hallway disappeared behind a blinding, yellow veil of gunfire. Cordite polluted his nose and hot shells ran down the length of his leg. Like boulders, barely he could see thick chunks of rocky, white plaster tumbled onto the packed carpet, crumbling at the foot as his Mauser rounds pounded into the wall.
"KILL MY FAMILY, WILL YOU!?" he yelled at the top of his lungs.
***
Crumbs of soft white touched upon Yune's cheek, and he dove back into the hall for cover, taking the redhead down to the gold carpet with her. Plumes of smoky white swirled into the ballroom at the sound of falling chunks of wall, thundered over with the sound of machine gun fire and accented softly with the gentle tings of falling brass, colliding into each other on their way down to the floor.
"RON!" he called. "GET DOWN--!!"
He didn't have to say it twice, as he felt the boy's weight crash down upon him like a limp sack of potatoes, rolling off his back onto the carpet with a flop. His breath came out in a hollow grunt, his deafening ears barely twitching at it.
The smoky miasma of plaster overwhelmed them like the morning fogs of the Pacific, northwestern coasts. The terrible band had abandoned their instruments without a care; he saw the portly blond run out the broken doors just before the clouds encompassed them--
"RUN!!" that unmistakable squeal of that curly top strangely overpowered the gunfire, as if the maniac had ceased his assault instantly.
"*Uh*." the blond beside him breathed. "Is he dry yet?"
"I'm not done with you, Shia!" the punk exclaimed. "Get back here! Little punk."
"Guess that's a yes." Kim mumbled from underneath. "Get off me, Yune!"
"Bin-Mok!" that accented voice called to him boldly, as if the voice of God almighty had parted the vastness of the heavens and spoke to him directly.
"What.?" he grunted flatly, suspiciously.
"Oh. so you're still alive, after all." The punk said pompously. "Damn it."
"Would you have it either way?"
".Good question." The punk said with a mocking thought. "I've got to think about that."
"What do want?" he called loudly.
"Nihilism, my good man." The kid replied simply. "A pure and simple world of chaos and honor, where a man of my stature can finally be appreciated! What this slab of sand needs right now, if you ask me. But I'm not at liberty to talk about that."
"Don't give me that crap!" he barked.
"Easy there, Yune." the kid said smoothly. "I'm in charge here. Besides, you don't want to *worry* your girlfriend's head off, now would you? I must say she does have pretty head though. So serene. so gentle; it'd be a shame to ruin it. Would you still love her, even if she had a face as nasty as my dad's?"
"She's done nothing, Drazen!" he rolled his body off of Kim's, his legs tense and ready to hoist him up the instant his back pressed against the floor. His grip strangled the Daewoo, and it made a small staccato of clicks as he thumbed the claw hammer. The world shrank around him, compressing into nothing more than a series of long, winding moments where only he was the star. "Leave her out of it!"
"Or you'll what?" the kid challenged. He clenched his teeth together through his lips, tightening his throat around a convoy of profanities and insults. "Play Rambo?"
There was a moment of silence; so tense he could cut it with a kitchen knife.
"That's right." The punk said in calm, collected drawl. "She doesn't have to die needlessly, does she?"
His hand was slick with moisture, the gun slipping around inside his clammy palm. The cat clenched his tongue tighter.
"Y-Yune.!" the frail voice of his love grunted out. His heart quickened, and the grip on the gun softened at the mere sound of her. "Shoot him! Hear me.? SHOOT HIM!!"
"Be quiet, T!" he shouted. "Don't talk that way!"
"Forget about me--!" she yelled. "I'm dead anyway.!"
"T!!" his firm voice trembled at the thought.
"Well, I wouldn't say that just yet." The kid said indifferently. "I'm feeling a bit generous tonight, so I'm just going to let this kitten go back home to master. Cops are coming and *Shabbat's* tomorrow, you know."
"He's one to talk--" Ron said inwardly, bitterly, a finger wiggling in his ear like a stiff worm. His eyes popped open as the auburn capped a hand over the boy's wide mouth.
"I know your tricks, Yune!" the punk exclaimed. "Don't try any of them!"
"Fine.!" he spat.
"Keep that little kitty on a tight leash there, Yune." the kid said with a chuckling call. "She's a feisty little thing, isn't she?"
Something of his rattled, and there came a soft shifting as if a piece of cloth was being drawn across another. The awkward, muffled patting of footsteps and a steady creaking came in from the hallway, the volume a decrescendo. Nothing abnormal, nothing forced, and a small, creaking squeal from a hinge far away confirmed the punk's word. His lungs gladly let out a sigh of relief.
"All right." he breathed quietly. "I'm going to go look. You two keep quiet until I say."
Kimberly nodded, as did her blond friend behind her cupped hand. Quietly, he pushed himself up onto his feet, the slicked gun taking lead as he approached the door. His knees buckled, and he hunched at the waist as his folded legs carried him toward the doorframe. Smoothly he turned the corner--
--*BLAM! *--
--And a few more bits and pieces of plaster graced his clammy cheeks as the all-but-demolished wall exploded a mere inch away. Metal-head himself stood there proudly (for a hunchback), at the end of the hall a few feet away from the door ajar, his Baby Eagle breathing out a wispy ribbon of gray.
"Ah." the punk let out a soft chuckle, "that never gets old."
The hunchback turned awkwardly around on that creaking pole of a prosthetic, and he hobbled out the parted door without a thought. But the simple thought of another surprise clicked not like the Daewoo as it fell upon the carpet. Tara was bleeding badly, and though he couldn't have been sure, he swore his dry eyes caught the sight of crimson in her ears.
*Just hold on, T. * he thought repeatedly. *I'm coming! *
***
"*Aw*--!" a dull squawk came out from the back of Tara's mouth, her tight muscles flinching as her man wrapped the bandage tightly around her crown. "Easy, Yune!"
"Sorry," her heart fluttered weakly at the sight of his warm eyes, "but you need it badly."
"True," her features twisted gently as the man gave the tail of bandage a final tug, pulling it smoothly over her forehead before his teeth awkwardly graced it with a clamp, "but you don't have to pop my head like zit though."
"Sure don't." her body was stiff as it hopped a bit, as Yune took to her side upon the mattress rather roughly, plopping his lean form on the comforter as if it were a trampoline. "Your head's too pretty to be a zit."
"Thanks." her eyes rolled, "I think."
Her chest tingled at his touch, Yune drawing her left arm across her body by the hand. A corner pulled her lips into a tiny, warm smile as she turned on her side.
"How's the arm?" he asked gently.
"The joint feels a bit strange," she said softly, "but overall, it's fine."
"Yeah," he nodded, "it'll feel odd for a few minutes, but you should be in good shape."
"Should is the keyword." Her lips dropped naturally back into place.
"Yep."
"I'm sorry." The corners of her lips dropped into a small frown, and a dark shadow draped over her at the voice of the auburn. "But can I have your cuddle-buddy for a sec?"
She sighed as her eyes took a lap around. "Sure."
"Sorry, Tara," Her back met squarely against the soft comforter, and her legs seemed to drop a few inches as her man sat up and hopped off the bed, "but duty calls."
"I. know." Pain swelled at the fore of her crown as she hoisted her torso off of the bed, hunching at the waist. "*Uh*."
"Take it easy, T." the Asian said gently. "You've been through a lot this evening."
"Yeah." Slowly, she moved a foot to rest atop the opposite knee. "I know."
Her fingers worked the buckle on the ankle strap loose, the wedge dangling by the thick, crossed straps over her toes. With a simple dip by the ankle, the shoe tumbled to the plush carpet on its side, coming to rest by her other foot just as she brought it upon the other knee.
"Feet are killing me." She flopped onto the soft bed the second her other foot was free.
"Poor T." he said flatly.
"Indeed..." Kimberly said indifferently.
"Is this going to take long, Kim.?" he yawned. "I need my rest."
"Of course." The auburn said. "I won't take long."
"So what's up?"
"Hershel is paying us a visit tomorrow." Kim said flatly, her tone a soft growl at the name.
"Great." He said apathetically. "So?"
"She'll be here to give us a briefing and whatnot," the girl's voice was thick with reservation, "but."
"But what?"
"I'd like Tara to go back home."
Her eyes popped wide open. Her back was straighter than a board, and she pulled her trunk straight up.
"Huh.?" she blinked.
"You heard me right, Tara." The girl folded her arms, her emerald eyes gazing at her evenly. "I'd like you back at Middleton pronto."
"Why?" she protested. "What've I done?"
"You're a liability, Tara." The girl turned her head away. "Already you've got hurt. What if you end up dead because of this?"
Yune bowed his head, shaking it gently.
"I couldn't live with myself if that happened."
"B--But." she stuttered. "What about Yune? What will he do without me?" She hopped off of the bed, an ankle twisting oddly a bit as she stumbled over her own shoes. Her open arms took the lead as she hurried over to him, eyes brimming with a thin line of tears. She cupped her hands gently onto his shoulders. "Tell her, Yune. Tell her you need me! Please!"
Yune kept his eyes closed, his head angling away. "She's. right, Tara."
She blinked. "What.?"
His hand cupped around her waist, her hands slid down his shirt as he eased her back a step.
"I'm sorry, T." his head shook gently. "But she's right."
"But, Yune--!" the room around her seemed to move strangely, her head feeling so much heavier as the words sank in.
"T." he said softly, "Tara. I love you more than you can imagine, but. I can't risk you getting hurt because of this work. Uzi knows about us, and he'll exploit it anyway he can."
"But he'll kill you!" she protested.
"He'll kill both of us." He said. "Tara, please. just go home!"
"I don't want to--!"
"Tara!" Kimberly yelled loudly. "This is not a conversation! Do it!"
"FINE!" she yelled, crossing her arms tightly with her nose in the air. "If you want me home that badly, then I will!"
Her fists clenched, her body hunching over while her muscles twisted her visage into a mask of pure anger.
"But if he comes back in a body bag, YOU'LL BE SORRY!" she yelled.
"Tara, calm down--"
"NO!" a few drops slipped through her lids, her voice at the top of her lungs. "If he doesn't come back home, I'LL KILL YOU IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO, KIM! I SWEAR!"
Kim looked hurt--actually hurt, just by her advances to the back, her square gaze broken, shaken, as if her outburst had suddenly came out of the blue. How incredibly stupid, she thought. The girl shifted her quivering eyes away, onto Yune as he walked closer to her.
"Kim," he said softly, "could you give us a few minutes?"
"But--" the girl stuttered, "I didn't mean to--"
"Kim.!" he pressed.
"Right.." The auburn nodded. "My apologies."
The girl put one foot behind the other, and she spun on her feet as if she had served the military. Her hips rolled her out of the room, through the large doorframe as the Asian gently closed the door behind her. There was a little *click* as he thumbed the squared deadbolt.
--And she threw herself upon the boy's chest, snuggling into his firm trunk as soon as he turned around. A warm feeling flowed through her body, soothing her, as did the man's arm around her waist.
"What's going on, T?" he said. "Why are you so sad?"
"I don't want you to die!" she nestled her head into the valley between his muscles. "This land's dangerous! If the VSA don't kill you, someone else will--I know it!"
"Tara." he combed his fingers backward through her hair.
"Promise me. you won't die!" she cried. "Promise me!"
"T." he whispered, "you know I can't."
"Please, Yune!" the cloth ran down her face, the friction heating her the tip of her nose as she looked up at him. Never had his eyes looked so solemn before, not ever. "For me.?"
"Tara." he held her closer, and she could feel the faint thumping of his beating heart. Oh how it soothed her greatly. "I can't control what happens to me during my time here. I don't know the hour or the day when I'll finally go, but just remember this: as long as I love you, part of me will be with you always, and you with me. Though we maybe so far away, we'll never be so closer."
Tears touched the corners of her weak smile, his face so blurry and shifting through the watery veil. Tears never felt so good as she closed her eyes, snuggling her face back into his firm chest.
"Thank you, Yune." she lowered her head, enough so that her lips were free from his trunk.
"For what?" he asked.
"For. everything." She breathed. "You're a really great guy."
"I guess.." he said modestly.
"But Yune?"
"Yes?"
"You really need a better pinstripe." She giggled softly.
"*Uh*." she giggled harder at that sigh, "Yes, dear."
***
"*Ugh*--!" Hershel grunted aloud, into the speaker of her foldout cell phone. "No, Mr. Ambassador, I haven't had any word over who murdered your lawyer friend."
"What do you mean no word!?" the grump of an American exclaimed rather gruffly, like the bark of a big, working dog. "My friend is dead-- the ACLU is throwing a fit--and all you can say is 'no word'!?"
"Mr. Ambassador," her eyes rolled behind her narrowing brows, her voice a throaty sigh, "you're talking to the wrong person. I'm with the Mossad--not the police--as in it's--not--my--problem!"
"The *hell* it's your problem, Missy!" the grouch yelled. "If my government hasn't had enough problems with your fence and settlements, guess what kind of firestorm will happen once they know an American's been killed on the Israeli soil!"
"What's left of the soil, you mean!" she growled the retort. "After your Road--Map--to--Nowhere gets done with it!"
"I'm going to pretend you never said that!" the grump mumbled back. "You'd be wise ease off!"
"Oh yeah!?" her fist clenched tightly around the phone. Never had the stressed plastic sound so close before. "Who's going to make me? Your treacherous judiciaries! HA--! That's a laugh!"
"Don't test me, Missy!" he growled. "If those terrorists of yours had anything do with Dixie's murder, you can bet the US will touch down on your coasts--WITHOUT HESITATION! Do I make myself clear, Missy?"
"Clear as day, Mr. Ambassador." She flatly replied. "And Mr. Ambassador?"
"What?"
"My name's Ariel--not Missy!" she yelled.
"Your name could be Missy Elliot for all I care, you little--!"
The grouch had no time to finish his retort at all, as she closed her phone like a castanet. Yet there came a small something from out the receiver just before it clicked shut, possibly a curse, but her will to know dropped, as did her phone into her jacket pocket. The clock was ticking, and Uzi possibly hobbled to his next move already.
*Ugh! This diplomacy crap will be the end of me! *
"What was that... *ah*... about?" the auburn asked halfheartedly, yawning it out.
"Aw... didn't get enough sleep, did we?" she folded her arms, her neck angling her head as she let it drop. "Tough shit. We got work to do."
"Well, you don't have to be so mean about it!" the auburn's blond friend dropped in his two cents. He laid there on the bedspread, flat on his back with his bare arms angling his head up awkwardly. "We'll be happy to help. Be a little nicer, okay?"
"How can I be nicer!?" she threw her arms into the air. "Suicide bombers are blasting my country apart, the UN's riding up on its ass, the US government hopped on the bandwagon over a murder--and if that isn't just fine-and-dandy for normalcy--we've got a fighter jet lost in the Negev!"
"What?" the redhead sat up quickly, twisting at the waist towards her.
"Approximately 24 hours prior to your arrival, an IDF F-15 was shot down over the Negev desert." She explained. "The pilot was killed instantly. And we have no clue if either VSA or a Palestinian group fired the rocket. The guys back at headquarters are still compiling their BDA."
"Hmm." the auburn drew circles in the comforter, the emerald eyes bowing away from her, "why do I get the feeling there's more to this than a simple missile strike."
Her neck straightened her head, pulling it back upon her shoulders.
"The jet was carrying a payload."
"What kind of payload?" The girl looked up at her squarely. "Biological, Chemical."
She cringed at the girl's next word.
"Don't tell me nuclear!" she exclaimed.
"Even I don't know what the heck that plane was carrying." She shook her head. "My orders and details come from my superiors, and even their information comes from a cut-out."
"Great!" the girl's body twisted around on the bed, her straight legs dangling off of the bed like boards and she buried her face into her hands, hidden by the puff of her hair. "So we've got a potential nuke threat? Isn't this just one big cake walk?"
"Welcome to my world, Kimmie.!" she sighed.
"So what if we got another complication?" the blond sat up briefly, and the bedspread dragged toward the foot of the bed as he scooted toward it. With a little grunt, he hopped off of the bed. "We'll get through it."
"Easy for you to say." The girl cocked her head back--and her brow kinked at a faint jingle. "Where do you think you're going?"
She turned, and Ronald stood there naturally with a set of keys dangling in his hand. He turned 90 degrees, and walked for the black duffle by the closet.
"It's *Shabbat*, Kim." He bent at the knees, and his hand dipped into the wrinkly bag. It came out with a blue and white prayer shawl, complete with the ratty fringes. "The Sabbath day, and just as the good book says, I must keep it holy lest I die."
"I thought you were supposed to rest today." She pushed her chest up as her legs dipped further. "You know, hang around and do nothing."
"Exactly." The blond nodded. "And I can't think of a better way to rest than at the Wailing Wall down in Jerusalem."
Her brow kinked again, just as the brow was about to fall. "And. just how are you getting there?"
"Sadie, of course." He nodded. "How else?"
"Now hold up, Ron." The redhead pushed herself to her feet. "I know you're pretty much strict when it comes to your Jewish roots, but Tara's flying back home today come this afternoon. And just how do you expect she'll get to the airport?"
"Don't worry, KP." He waved a hand, and his knees bent while his other set of fingers dove back into the bag. "I'll send Sadie right back to you when she drops me off. She can pick me up before midnight."
"But Ron--"
"Let him go, Kim." She said. "If the S.A.D.I. doesn't show up in time, I'll take Ms. Stark myself."
"Pf." the girl rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself."
"Just be careful, Mr. Stoppable." She said. "Israel's had a surge of drug related crime in the past month. So do yourself a favor, and keep away from the checkpoints."
The boy nodded as his hand came out with a black yarmulke. He pressed it on his head carefully as he walked for the door, keys in hand with the shawl draped over his shoulder as if it were a towel. Hershel actually felt something as the boy twisted the knob, strolling out the door without a care. She couldn't place it; for something like a mere second, a peaceful bliss had eased her troubled mind, a peace she hadn't known for a long, long time.
"Glad to see someone keep the faith." she smiled weakly.