37
The rest of the walk was a quiet one for obvious reasons, not a single word was shared between them. The quieted sound of their own footsteps filled their ears steadily, rhythmically as they sneaked for the entrance, the entrance that Ron told her about anyway. She remembered it too as she was dragged inside: a long, rusty catwalk over an enormous oil vat that led to some sort of parking lot. Her brain wasn't damaged after all; it wasn't something she simply dreamt up when Ron pushed open that heavy blast door.
Freedom was just up ahead, waiting for her in the small little parking lot, four rubber feet ready to burn, eager to haul her the hell out of Dodge.
"Here it is, KP." Ronald brushed off his hands on his pants. "Just like I told you."
"Somehow, I had a feeling you'd bring us here." She sighed. "I can't complain really, since someone left us another lovely Hummer to steal."
"Boy's Uzi going to be pissed when he finds out!" Ron smirked devilishly. "Not that he'll care about it anymore. Don't worry about taking Drazen down anymore, KP."
"And why's that?" she asked crassly. "Someone called it first?"
"Yep, something of that nature." He nodded. "In a short time, this place will be swarming with IDF and some serious firepower. So why don't we just blow this pop stand and watch the fireworks?"
"Sounds pretty grim, Ron." She noted.
"True," he nodded, "but after what we've been through, I could really give a damn anymore."
"Yep!" Rufus threw in his two pieces of copper.
"Even with the army on our side, Drazen's got one more trick up his sleeve!" she said. "And I think you know what I'm talking about."
"You mean…?"
"The siege weapon, Ron." She nodded. "It's complete!"
"Super…!" he rolled his eyes. "Just when we think we're out! Shouldn't we leave that for the bunker busters?"
"Nice idea, but it'll be long gone before the jets show up." She explained. "I saw that thing with my own eyesit's huge! Three huge cannons, each the size of half a football field! God only knows what kind of ammo those are supposed to shoot! Two flank the control tower while the other sits atop of it. The base of it is like a giant tank, with two treads on each sidekind of like that freak. Though it was shrouded pretty much in the shade, I happened to see a couple of turrets with two machine guns each: both heavy caliber, one bigger than the other. No reason to think that the stern doesn't have the same thing."
"Another needless weapon." Ron frowned.
"You're right, Ron." She nodded. "We'd ought to get out of here, but we should help Israel as much as we can, don't you agree?"
"Of course, KP." He nodded. "But how. From your description, it sounds almost impossible to completely destroy that thing even for us."
"Nothing's impossible for a Possible, Ron." She smirked. "You should know that by now. We don't have to destroy it per se."
"What do you mean then?" he asked.
"If we bring the house down on it." She explained simply. "Then we don't have to, and bury Drazen along with the rest of those crazies along with it. Besides, we won't have to worry about either side using this place for their own ends!"
"-Oy gevalt ishmer…! -" Ron sighed, putting a hand to his face, letting gravity take its time dragging it down.
"I'm trying to be fair, Ron." She said. "Despite your personal feelings, Ron, we came in as a neutral party and that's how we're going to stay!"
"You're neutral." He corrected. "Not me."
"Huh?" she blinked.
"Come on, KP." He sighed. "Let's get this over with. Nowhow do you suggest we trash this place?"
"I should have known…." She shook her head gently.
Despite his devil-may-care approach, he'd keep his heels buried into the ground when he set his mind on something, keeping them planted come Hell or high water. It was a waste of time to convince him otherwise really, kind of like her, come to think of it.
"Anyway-below us is a ridiculously large oil vat, right." Her flattened hand went up to the opposite shoulder, sweeping down gracefully to the rusty grating underfoot. Her foot tapped the grating twice. "See? Can't miss it really."
"Oh right…!" the blond nodded slowly, seemingly understandingly. "So?"
She blinked. Typical Ron all right; the special dyad between them was functioning once again.
"In simple words," she sighed, "ignite the oil, this whole place will come burning down. That's my conclusion from a plumbing standpoint. Judging by the power, this oil has to be circulated through the entire facility to several diesel generators at least."
"Oh, okay." Ron nodded. "And if they're still fueling up their siege weapon, this little oil fire could put their launch on a definite hold. But we're short of a lighter, KP. And I don't think that even the cars over there have one."
"They probably don't." She said.
Ron slipped his fingers into the pockets with the biggest bulk. The bulk then flattened, the cloth deflating back against his leg when his hand came out with the .357. It twirled awkwardly by the trigger guard by the finger, clumsily like a newcomer to gun slinging.
"Hell, at least I got your mom's gun right here." His wrist bucked, the rubber grip slipping into his loose grasp. "Several rounds to go with one shot down."
"One -shot- down…." She took in a shallow breath, the fumes sitting in her lungs momentarily before they heaved it out. "That could work!"
"What could?" he asked.
"Ron…." She said cagily. "You're going to have to shoot the vat."
"WHAT?" those chocolate eyes nearly popped out of his head. Heck, even she wasn't sure what the hell she was saying. "Have you LOST IT?"
"No other way, Ron." She said gravely. "I'm too worn out to shoot properly. You'll have to graze the brim of the vat to create a spark. Simple, huh?"
Ron's big eyes boggled predictably; he was speechless as his rat.
"Don't worry." She said coolly, ironically. "We'll do it -off- the catwalk, by the car."
"Kim, that's another 35 feet!" Ron exclaimed.
"Thankfully this vat is huge." She let her head down gently, eyes peering through the grating. The shifting crude sat at least twenty feet below her, churning gently to the thrum of machinery further below, the pool big and wide as the passageway. So big, so wide, so much sloshing crude that her guts began to twist. "Really huge…!"
"Really, -REALLY- huge…." Ron drew his glove down his face again. "There's no way this pistol can reach that far accurately!"
"I know." She nodded. "But every Hummer I saw had machine guns mounts. The one over yonder shouldn't be any different."
"Even if I do cause ignition," the boy protested, "we'll go up with this whole place!"
"We have to try, Ron!" she said. "I'll drive."
"Again…!" he sighed, eyes taking another lap around his head. "Are you sure you're up to it?"
"Yep." She shrugged. "Everything still's working, more or less, but at least you'll have a new toy to play with."
"Really?" he blinked. "What's that?"
Another exasperated sigh. "The turret, Ron."
The boy's eyes lit up predictably as though he had received his royalty check from Bueno Nacho all over again. At least Bonnie wasn't here to sour the moment.
"Me with an M60?" The boy grinned childishly. "Boo-yah!"
"Glad you like It." She nodded. "Let's get going"
"Not so fast, you two!" Called out a voice from beyond the catwalk, a deeper voice marred not by Semitic or Slavic intonation. It was deep, so smooth, and so soft on the ears that it ought to have belonged to a jazz playeran American jazz player at that. Ron trained the revolver down the catwalk. "I've got something to say."
"Who's there?" she called out. "Identify yourself!"
"Why me?" A taller man with snow-white hair stepped out from behind one of the vehicles. Thin pieces of metal reached out from his ears, tracing greatly around his tired eyes. A coat of white encased his tired blue scrubs loosely. Both arms where pulled around his back squarely. "I'm but a humble doctor. A poor, tired man who got dragged along for this picnic."
"A doctor, huh?" Ron thumbed the claw hammer. "Why do I have trouble believing that in this hellhole?"
"My apologies for this place being so… hectic." He sighed. "I've been monitoring your progress from the security office. You should be thankful that the grunts left it to me on their way out."
"So what?" she frowned. "You here to kill us then? Then do us a favor and spare us the psychobabble. It's really getting on my nerves!"
"Why would I do that?" he blinked those gray eyes gently. "Don't get me wrong, Ms. Possible, I am grateful for your assistance. Tank Man needed to be put down for good. I knew that even before I was given the task to "revive" him into that twisted monster you know and loathe. But I couldn't disobey the Major, not then anyway."
Her hand met the small barrel of the revolver. Ron's arm succumbed to her torque, angling the gun to the floor. She was a little edgy when the boy replaced the hammer into the frame single-handedly.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm Doctor Phillip Levitt, MD of course." The man said calmly. "The Major's good doctor, and was once personal physician to his stepfather, Alexander"
She blinked.
"STEPFATHER?" Ron and she exclaimed mutually.
"While Uzi believes a little differently, you've heard me right." The doctor nodded. "I should know. I've been with the Drazen family since the beginning, since the patriarch's betrayal in the early seventies."
"What you talking 'bout, Doc?" Ron said.
"Your government had been after him since that time, but not anymore thanks to you two." The doc explained. "During his hit and run from the United States, he stumbled onto my doorstep back when I had a practice in Alaska, seriously wounded from a gun battle he and his gang had with a federal building. Going in like a suicide bomber wasn't a smart move.
"While I patched him up, he asked if I would accompany him. Being young and naïve didn't help, so desperate for the green. So here I stand before you, catering to his violent creation till he destroys us all. God, forgive me…."
The doctor put the pads of his fingers against his temples, rubbing them gently.
"If Uzi's not Drazen's son," Ron asked, "then who the hell is he? Does it have anything to do with that bizarre collection of photographs?"
"Indeed…." The doctor sighed. "I might as well tell you before I let you go.
"Before the Major's birth back in '85, three of Drazen's sons were born: Deutsche, Vasili, and Tristian." The doctor placed his arms behind his again. "Typically combined with foreign chromosomes at conception, just like with any other human on the planet, it would be safe to say that they are the real sons of Drazen. But Uzziel and Galil, they are different in such a way, a way that only 10 percent of the genes found within them are from Alexander."
"So that means…."
"Correct." The doctor nodded. "Technically, Uzi and Galil are not Drazen's biological children."
"Then who the hell is he?" Ron pressed.
"What is he…?" she asked.
"During December of '84, we were approached by the Israeli government a couple of years before the first uprising." The man continued. "They saw it coming! The Mossad saw the great potential of Drazen's children and they requested that we create one for a top secret 'initiative' of theirs. I don't think it's really hard to figure out what that is."
"The Victims of the Smiling Ass…." She said.
"What…?" Ron said incredulously.
"Counter-terrorist measures and operations by any means necessary, all disguised as a rogue militia." She said. "Fight fire with fire. A great idea on paper till your boy kept all the hand-me-downs for himself."
"It was more for deterrence's sake, but true in the long run." The doctor nodded. "With the Major's resolve coming to a head, Israel's 'Apollyon' project is a total disaster - a self-fulfilling prophecy! Brute force and the 95 percent reproduction of desired genetic material should not be the only criteria for a human being. It must also be beautiful, unique, and godlike just as when God blew into a pile of dirt, when dirt became a man. Don't you agree…?"
"Apollyon…?" she said.
"The destroyer…?" Ron followed suit.
"In late '84, Drazen, myself, and an… -eccentric- geneticist along with several influential parties initiated the development of a human child with the natural abilities of fighter, a soldier and an agent. Rage, joy, madness, nor lust: he would be a well-balanced masterpiece that the Israelis would see fit to entrust with the initiative. But we had hit a snag with the process: Drazen life of battle had left him sterile."
"No wonder he was always pissed." Ron chuckled softly.
"Ron, shut up!" she frowned.
"Yet we had nothing to worry about." Phil continued. "We could have always used surrogate seed with the old man's genetic code, but Drazen himself decided to take the opportunity to test genetic material he had acquired - through ME, of course - on loan from some spooks in BIS. In place of Drazen, I oversaw the procedure. I might as well have been his creator, and still Uzi doesn't know who I am."
"Who is the prime donor then?" she asked.
"'The Unknown', of course." He said.
"The Unknown…?" she blinked.
"You'll know soon enough." He shook his head. "I could tell you more, but we don't have the time for this. He's about to move out any minute now. If you wish to blow this place sky high, I suggest you do it now!"
"You know?" Ron said.
"Yes," the doctor said, "I was already here by the time you strolled in. I heard everything. If it's what you want, I won't stop you. But I have something better than your half-assed plan."
The doctor unfolded an arm from behind him and angled the hand behind the flap of his coat. Ron brought up the revolver instinctively, thumbing the hammer already. Then he had gently guide the claw back into the frame when Phil pulled out a block no bigger than bullion. It spun at her like the blades of a thresher when the man tossed it. In her hands only she saw a small electronic device pressed into a side.
"What's this?" Ron shot it a quizzical look.
"Let me guess," she nodded, "SEMTEX?"
"Exactly." The doctor nodded. "Also known as 'Terrorist C4': developed in Uzziel's homeland before the Velvet Divorce. Composed of RDX and PETN, it can devastate an area with at least twice the punch of TNT. Uzi had the timers waterproofed; so don't worry about getting it wet. Just be careful with it."
"How long can the timers be set?" Ron asked.
"30 minutes." The doc said. "But I don't think we have the time for that. 10-to-15 should be enough."
"Thanks." She tossed it gently to Ron, who easily slipped it into an open cargo pocket. "But, why are you helping us?"
"Guilt, I suppose." The doctor bowed his head, sighing. "To say I'm tired would be putting it lightly. All I wanted to do was help people; help them live life, help them long to see another day. But as always, bad things come out of good intentions: Communism, Totalitarianism, and Jihad. The Information Age is upon us, and yet how sad this age truly is. Famine, pestilence, wars and rumors of wars, and nation against nation; they are still among us, running rampant despite the advances in science and technology. We walked amongst the stars; the earth was blue but there was no god. Hopelessness, it is.
"This whole conflict. Israel against the world, the right to exist verse the right to return, so very important as a Jew myself, yet it feels so pointless after a time. Now, much like the Major, all I want is to see it end completely. Ragnarok isn't far behind at this rate."
"I guess so." She said. "But what are you going to do now? Give up? What good would that do anyone?"
"I know…." He shook his head. "I'm a coward. But at least I helped in my own special ways. Now you must use it before Uzziel destroys us all."
"'Ways'…?" Ron said rhetorically.
"Ask around if Drazen lets you." The doc said cryptically, beginning to turn on his heels. "Maybe Matt, for example. I don't know anymore!"
"Matt…?" She blinked.
"Just take care of demolishing this place. There's nothing else I can do. It's all up to you two: this country, this region, and the whole damn planet for that matter. Whatever happens within the next few hours will decide the course of history. If you fail, it will mean an all out nuclear exchange! Armageddon will be unleashed!"
"You're talking about the nuke!" Ron exclaimed.
"Yes," Phil said, "an enhanced radiation weapon deployed by the Israeli government for the purpose of eliminating the Major completely. A convoy under Lieutenant Bonnet captured it. I'm not a weapons scientist, but when detonated I know that organic material within ground zero and the blast radius will be exposed to lethal amounts of intense radiation - dust in an instant!"
"Shit!" Ron exclaimed. "Who'd make such an idiotic weapon?"
"Better ask your government." Phil shrugged. "They developed it, after all."
"Of course…." She sighed. "But he can't be serious about detonating it, can he?"
Phil turned on his heels completely.
"Oh yes, he is." The man said. "The Major's sick of this life, all right, sick of a life without meaning or purpose, with nothing but attempted executions from others. Since you couldn't kill him, he thinks he might as well kill everyone he can. Last I heard, your country had sent in a couple units to prevent any -certain- hassles for this afternoon's event."
"The Temple Mount!" Ron exclaimed.
"Yes, Drazen's gathering his troops to meet them." Phil said. "I told you everything that I could. You're going to have to deal with whatever surprises may come up on your own. I'm taking one of these vehicles. You can have the other. Both have machine guns so don't fret over it. But good luck to both of you; this is a dangerous one."
"Don't have to tell me twice." Ron said.
"This will be a face-off with your own mortality." Phil said. "Don't let the fear get to you. You give into the fear, the darkness comes."
"Right." She said. "And thank you."
"Of course." The doctor turned for one of the hummers. "I'm off now. I suggest you do the same!"
A door openedand closed, the vehicle jiggled on its framework when the doctor climbed inside. The started whirred and the engine caught with a loud thrum, and soon the vehicle was guided out backwards. The trunk mooned her and the machine gun gazed at her coldly before Phil put it into gear, picking up speed as it rolled away from them and up the ramp, never to be seen again.
"'I suggest you do the SAME…!'" Ron quoted mockingly as he stuffed the gun into his cargos. "We've been trying to for the past HALF-HOUR! DAMN!"
"At least he gave us a leg-up, Ron." She frowned. "And the more we bitch, the more ground we'll have to make up! Let's just plant this stick and get out of here!"
"I heard that!" the volatile block slipped out of his pocket easily. The lump that the gun made against the cloth sank deeper. The device beeped like a cheap digital watch as he fingered the buttons. "Setting the timer for 13 minutes."
"13 minutes?" she blinked.
"Yeah." The mat of dirty blond swooshed in the thick air when he bobbed his head. "On a recipe when it calls for the timer to be set between such-and-such, I typically use the middle ground. It works fairly well, I must say."
"Says the Iron Chef." She sighed. "Hit start already. Go ahead and drop it in if you have to."
"Now comes the time for the secret ingredient." Ron said lively as he fingered the start button, holding it over the vat by a pinch. "You know what that means…? BOO-YAH!"
The block splashed into the oversized saucepan like a stick of butter, drowning in the crude like a cinderblock.
"Boo-yah!" Rufus squeaked, pumping a foreleg in the air dramatically.
"Come on," she said, "let's go!"
A sudden vibration caught her off guard, a trembling from underfoot on the rusty catwalk, resonating throughout the entire room. The room tilted as she dived for the paling while her body ached to fall oppositely, seizing that greasy pipe with both of her hands. Rufus let out a shriek, as did his master, stumbling over his own feet. They both would have enjoyed a nice bath Genghis style if it weren't for that single pipe of railing.
"WHOA…!" Ron exclaimed. "Who the hell - WHAT the hell was that?"
"Could it be…?" her voice came soft, collected despite the frenzied panic racing in her brain. Tank Man? It couldn't be! She'd done it in herself, and below her ears caught a sudden slush of crude! The freak was way too small, too weak to have caused it even with that talon! "No… it can't!"
"Can't what, KP?" With a huff, Ron pushed himself back upright. "That freak?"
"It couldn't have survived!" her feet found their way back under her again after a steady push to the railing. "I made sure of that!"
"Exactly." Ron replied.
"Yep-YEP!" the rat affirmed.
"Which means…!"
"The weapon!" she exclaimed. "They're ready for launch!"
Ron threw his head back, his boyish face twisted painfully in angst.
"These missions are so not EASY!" he cried.
"Cry later, Ron!" already, despite the soreness flaring, singing inside her, she was ahead of him by 10 feet. The pain practically drained off her. She was deaf to everything around, the clanging of her hurried feet against the grating ringing in her ears. Some of the steel crumbled away beneath her, plopping into the black nastiness below but she paid it no mind. "Let's jet!"
"Right behind you, Kim!" Ron called. "Let me get past these holes first!"
"Just hop, Ron!" she called back. "Think of it like Pitfall, now move!"
That sudden vibration rumbled through the room again, rattling the catwalk an old rope bridge. Pieces of it belly flopped onto the crude below right in front of her. She was sure a piece fell right in front of her before the section slipped out of sightand she was right when the toe of her boot sank into the hole left behind, dragging the rest of her down. Her nose crammed back into her face when she planted it firmly.
"Oh…!" she moaned. A little trickle managed to fall into the dimple on her lip, pooling warmly. The tips of her fingers came back slick with red. "My nose!"
"Play it like Pitfall Harry, huh…." Ron said smugly. "Yeah right…."
"Shut it, Ron." She growled. "Help me!"
Dust was brushed out of place, crumbling from the ceiling onto the walk, coating the grating thinly in a tiny little spot while most of it fell right through. Certainly the docking bay was beyond the flanking wall, but there was no reason that the weapon could have caused that nasty rumbling, even for its size
And it certainly wouldn't have caused the ceiling to warp, concaving largely in a single spot above the walkdirectly in front of her!
"What the HELL IS THAT?" Ron squealed.
The warped patch split with another bang, ragged slivers of steel, pipe and truss blossoming like a passionflower when knuckles punched straight through. So brown, so golden brown like a Thanksgiving turkey that she knew all to well what they belonged to. Soon her head found its way back just like Ron's, she felt her features twist the same way.
"NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN!"
The ceiling took a dump on her, sprinkling her mane with oily, nasty dust while the king shit plopped out of the frayed warp
"What THE?" Ron yelped.
Tank Man, that stubborn zit had grown, -really- grown, so gross and so fat that it wouldn't take a needle to burst. Its little rolling tray was nowhere to be seen, its metal claw gone from the shoulder, bone and raw meat glistening wetly in the light. Muscle had popped out of nowhere, so fat and tense that they pushed all the veins against his strange flesh. Skin was stretched to its limits, even so far as that it was torn in some places, thick purple muscles shining through the gooey red. Blood oozed down its bulbous pecks and fattened abdominal in thick rivers.
She wanted to hurl when it looked at her. Those eyes of hazel sheen were gone, never more as would the raven squawk. Two dead orbs stared back at her, clear as a milky glass of water from a school drinking fountain. The lower lids brimmed thickly with red, trickling down those lids, those tight cheeks, disappearing drop by drop behind the sharp belly of that broken jaw-blade. Its tongue slithered out like a serpent, long and swollen like an alligatorand the trickles were cut off sharply just above the cheekbones. It hissed at her coldly, eagerly, lustfully, and hungrily….
"I SAID YOU SHOULD'VE QUIT WHILE YOU'RE AHEAD!" Ron shouted. "GREEN GOOP PAVES THE WAY FOR A HUNDRED MILES OF BAD ROAD! DO YOU GET THAT, KP? BAD ROAD!"
"OH SHUT UP!" She hopped to her feet.
"THAT ZIT'S BLOCKING THE WALK!" Ron pointed. "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?"
"THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW!"
Tank Man - Super -Psycho- Tank Man let out a shout, a horrible beastly shout that caused the room to quake, to tremble fearfully. It was so much for some pieces of the roof, so to speak, pieces of truss and pipe fainting to the walk below, tumbling through to the black pool below, taking some rather sizeable pieces of grating with it.
"To hell with this!" Ron shouted. "Let's hightail itNOW!"
A light shined within Tank Man's mouth, a fiery, hot light that caused even the pink saliva at the tip of that monster tongue to bubble. It reared back its headand it took in a deep haggard breath that growled like a freak.
"DOWN!" she shouted.
Strength traveled into her forearms, and with a steady push her upper body was airborne. Twisting around at the waist, her hand snatched a hold of Ron's belt… and soon the boy found his body sprawling out next to her just as a thick shaft of heat lapped at back of her olive drab. Someone was going to be mad that his stuff was scorched, but it wasn't going to be her.
The door behind them had been blown closed when she took a peek over her shoulder. That huge, indestructible blast door was but a gooey shadow of its former self, pieces of it slipping through the walk in viscous globs while the door and the frame itself had merged together… permanently.
"So much for a way out!" She cursed. "Guess there's only one way left!"
"And what PRAYTELL is THAT?" Ron yelled.
"We're giving that freak a bath!" she pushed herself to her feet. "A nice long one!"
"What are you…?" those chocolate eyes crossed.
"When you hear the signal, RUN!" her lungs pressed out the foul breath. They took in a few shallow gasps as she worked what little oxygen there was down into her legs, feeling the pain and soreness slip off.
"What SIGNAL?" he demanded.
"Here it comes…!"
"WHAT?" Ron scrambled to his feet.
Pieces of grating gave way, splashing into the vat below, as she booked it for that ugly colossus in her path. Ron barely had the time to put the first foot in front of him by the time she cleared half the distance between him and the roadblock. A hint of sanity shined faintly in those dull, dead eyes as it brought up a massive fist - just as she hastily predicted.
"Brace yourself!" she called.
The fist came down upon the walk, punching through it completely as the whole structure rattled like it were on Parkinson's Disease. She caught a leg up on the thing's pudgy fingers before a section gave way, flipping over the freak completely! Her legs hurried her the moment the thick boot soles hit the walk. A bit of relief swelled in her chest when she found herself on that hard, unwavering slab of concrete. The boy flung himself at it, planting his face on it just as the walk withdrew itself.
In an explosion of rusty, nasty metal, the catwalk gave way, tearing itself apart under Tank Man's immense weight. Clean shards and slivers cut through the air, shining together in a glinting vapor before they disappeared below the brim of the vat. The vat let out a hollow -BANG- when it was touched by the far half of the walk, tearing itself away from the oozy door only to fall to unknown depths below. The half nearby simply dived into the nasty drink like a straw
"Bye, bye…!" she waved mockingly.
And Tank Man was on its way to Hell, treating itself to a nice relaxing bath. Opening its terrible mouth, that little light inside flickering violently, it let out a final obnoxious scream before the liquid blackness swirled inside. That little flame was finally out, drowned seemingly by the blackness while its strange head was overwhelmed by it. Yet the thing defied its demise with its final ounce of strength, shooting its pudgy hand out of the crudeand it stood there! Frozen in time and coated with oil, the darkness eagerly swallowed it up again.
"Drowned in a vat of oil." She stated. "A fitting end for that little zit, don't you think?"
Ron slapped at his face with both gloves, wiping the dirt and grime off his face. His little buddy helped clean him off, swathing the crown with his tongue like a cat. Though as soon as the red was off his crown, it blossomed right back out again, trickling down his crown slowly.
"Man, that HURT!" he whined.
"Did it now?" her brow kinked.
"Try planting your face after a full sprint, then come and talk to me!" Ron growled. "Oh…!"
"Hope you don't like what you taste, Rufus." She said. "One leech was bad enough!"
"Nope-nope!" he shook his little head violently. "No leech! -Blah…! -"
"Good." She nodded.
Slowly, Ron pushed himself to his feet, hands skittering all over his body, dusting himself off. He finished with the typical sweep of his hands from his abdominal to the meat of his quadriceps, and a final dust of his gloves. His dirty blond mat waved at her swiftly when he shook his head. Rufus scampered his way back into his burrow, satisfied with a job done though his master's crown shined wetly with red still.
"You're still bleeding, you know." She said.
"Go figure." He shrugged. "I'll put a bandage on it later. We got to get out of here!"
"Heard that!" she said, and already she was on her way for the Hummer's driver's side. The door clunked open effortlessly, and she slipped right inside. Thin pieces of metal brushed against her leg, jangling. "Hop in!"
Ron didn't need to be told twice as he went for the back seats. With a twisting pinch, the vehicle fired up with a hearty thrum, her back rumbling gently with the engine block. Her door found its way back into the frame with her help, rocking the vehicle a bit just as Ron guided his door back inside. She could feel him easily shift around in the back.
"How's it look?" he asked as she put it into reverse.
"Full tank!" she said. "Oil, gas, brakes, practically everything! And you?"
She heard a loud -clack- from behind-and-above her.
"Locked and loaded!" Ron said. "We shouldn't have to worry about spray-and-pray today! We got some serious chains - even a couple rocket propelled grenades to spare!"
"Just use them wisely!" she backed out easily from the parking space, slapping it into drive when the ramp rolled just above the horizon of the hood. "Make them last! No pit stops on this road trip! Just hold onto your butt and don't get sick!"
"Where are we going anyway?" he asked.
"Away from here, and let the cavalry take over!" She feathered pressure on the accelerator. The ramp was upon them quickly, and soon she felt herself press a little deeper into the seat. "That's for sure! Any suggestions?"
"Actually, I do!" He replied. "Jerusalem, by the old city walls at a fancy apartment complex. Yune and Tara should be waiting for us there!"
"You got it!"