Chapter 8: Through the Knight

In the Viper's Outpost, Jack was in his room, making some phone calls. At the moment, he was talking to an old friend.

"Hey, Diamond? This's Hunter. Listen, how fast can you get the Snakes over to Viper's Outpost? It's a hot job, white-hot."

There was a pause.

"Remember what happened a few days ago, when the True Liberty Movement tried to take over my turf as the base? Yeah…they're at it again, but they're not gang wannabes…they're terrorists. And this time, they picked the wrong turf to snatch. Yeah, Night Gunner's other family, FLAG."

Jack winced as he heard distinct shouting on the other end. After all, FLAG and the gangs normally didn't mix, but on the other hand, the code of family was something that most of the LA gangs shared.

"Listen, Diamond. We're going to be helping a group of youngsters—that's right, I said youngsters. They're the kids of the FLAG staff that got snatched and they've got the brains and guts to go in. They're called Foundation's Youth, and the Black Dragons are gonna help them to storm the Movement's HQ and release the hostages. Plus, we'll get our revenge at the same time. I'd be happier if we've got backup from the Snakes."

There was another pause before Jack grinned. "Great. How long? Hmm, good. As soon as you get here, I'll give ya the low-down for your boys. And by the way, don't be surprised by one of the Youth's comrades."

Jack was about to sign off when he froze in place, listening to something. He then said, "I see…thanks for the 4-1-1. We'll be ready."

Once he hung up, he immediately called downstairs. "Hey Moe…send up Chuck and Angel."

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. A moment later, Chuck and a woman with close-cropped blonde hair and cold, blue eyes entered.

"I want you two to set up sentries tonight at the bar and next door. The Snakes are on their way, and they've told me that a trio of men are looking for our unique comrade. One's Mexican, one's black…and the other one I think you know. Michael Knight. If you see them, they're to be detained, then inform me immediately."

"With pleasure, boss," Angel replied.

"Break out the walkie-talkies."

A few minutes later, Jack walked over to the place where the Foundation's Youth were staying and found out from the landlord where Laura Mariz and Marissa were staying. Once he arrived at the room, he heard talking and knocked on the door.

"Who's there?" the Mexican girl asked.

"Jack Hunter. Got an update for ya."

A moment later, the door opened to show Marissa standing near it and Laura was walking towards the bathroom.

"What's going on, Jack?"

"Well, I got a hold of the backup, another gang that the Dragons are allies with, the Diamond Snakes. They'll be here in a few hours. After I fill the leader in on the plan…we'll be ready."

She nodded, then asked, "What time do we leave?"

"Five AM. We should be arriving at the enemy territory around dawn."

"We'll be ready, even if I have to drag them out of bed."

Jack laughed and said, "You leave the bed-dragging to me and get some rest. Oh…one other thing: We've got sentries out, in case we wind up with unexpected visitors."

"Thank you."

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It was well past sunset, closer to midnight, when a brown Cadillac pulled up at the Viper's Outpost. The driver, Michael, was thinking. He had gone to see the Diamond Snakes…and given quite the runaround. They had been on their way out when he had overheard one of the underlings say, "There's a phone call from Jack Hunter, boss. Says it's a white-hot job."

When they had exited, RC said that white-hot was the term used by the Diamond Snakes and the Black Dragons for "extremely urgent".

Now, Michael exited the vehicle and looked around the lot. Within a couple of minutes, he saw what he was looking for…a familiar black trans-Am, as well as 9 other familiar vehicles.

As he walked, he said quietly, "Kitt? You awake?"

The familiar red scanner light came to life, swishing back and forth.

"Michael?"

"So it's you, pal. What're you doing here?"

"We've secured allies for the upcoming mission. The children are resting while we wait for the last of the 'storming party', as the local leader puts it, to show up."

"Yeah, fine. Let's go."

"Go? Where?"

"We're getting out of here, pal."

"No. We're not going anywhere."

"Look, I know about your promise to protect Marissa, but what about protecting Devon and the others?"

"This is the best way to do all of the above. They're more capable than even I originally thought. Michael, as I said in the message, you're welcome to join us."

"Kitt, just who are you taking orders from, kids or me? You're my car, remember?"

"For this mission, I am under the command of Marissa Miles and Laura Mariz, Rissie's second-in-command."

"You're obeying two kids?"

"That's correct."

"Kitt, this nonsense has—" he started to say and took a hold of the door handle.

Right then, he heard the sound of metal clicking on metal and froze.

"Freeze, Knight!" an iron voice stated from behind him.

"Just what's going on!" he demanded.

"You're not a stupid man, you know what's going on. Now, hands off our comrade and on your head. Don't do anything funny and you won't get hurt." There was another metal click and the iron voice said, "Boss, we've got Knight. He tried to take Kitt, just as you suspected."

"I knew it. Good work, Chuck. Bring him upstairs. I want a word with our little visitor. Don't hurt him, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Mr. Knight…don't try anything funny, and we won't have any hard feelings."

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When the door to the upstairs room opened, Jack and Diamondhead were seated at the table, which was now littered with road maps, as well as a copy of a structure blueprint.

Chuck and Angel went into the room, the latter pushing Michael in.

"Well well," the balding man growled, "Michael Knight in the flesh. Saw you a few hours ago on my turf. I come to help my comrade and his men with a mission and here you turn up."

Jack turned to the others and said, "Angel, Chuck, get back to the sentries."

"Yes, sir," the woman answered and the two left, closing the door behind him.

"So, you're Jack Hunter. 16 and in command of the Black Dragons? Impressive," Michael remarked.

"Not quite as impressive as a younger leader and her group that came to me to form an alliance."

"Marissa Miles?"

"Yeah, the leader of Foundation's Youth. Now, Mr. Knight, sit down over here." Jack gestured to one of the bar stools.

Michael carefully nodded and sat down, then asked, "Jack, maybe you don't know all that's going on."

"That's where you're off base. We know exactly what happened, including that these youngsters are bound and determined to rescue their parents themselves. Our two gangs have a certain code that we follow: you mess with family, we mess with you. We've got some serious gripes with the True Liberty Movement, and they've already messed with Night Gunner's other family: FLAG."

"So you've got plenty of reason to go along with this."

"Yeah."

"Do you even have a plan?"

"Yes, though I have to admit, the original plan isn't mine. Laura, Becky Curtis and Kitt came up with it. With their permission, I shored up a couple weak spots. Diamondhead and I were just going over it now."

"Kitt…said that my guys and I are welcome to join if we wanted."

"Yes, and we're saying the same thing. Mr. Knight, we could use all the help we can get. That's why Diamondhead and his gang are here. If you cooperate with us, we can definitely put you in the action, right along with Foundation's Youth, the Black Dragons and the Diamond Snakes."

"Don't forget the cops," the oldest man grunted.

"Like I'm gonna forget another rare element to a storm."

Michael thought for a long moment, then asked, "Can I have a look at the plan?"

The two men looked at each other for a long moment, then Jack replied, "I don't see why not. Those three did a really good job. Here."

The trio spent half an hour going over the plan. At the end, Michael let out a surprised whistle.

"You're right, they did do a good job. I'm impressed."

Jack nodded, then asked, "Now…are you in, Knight, or out?"

Michael took a deep breath and thought for a long moment.

"Call me Michael, Jack….and count us in."

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Bonnie looked about her at the other hostages that were in the large room. The terrorists themselves were busy with several things, yet there were still a few watching over them.

Right then, most of the FLAG staff was sleeping, if in rather uncomfortable accommodations on the floor. Beside her, Devon was wrapped in his jacket, already fast asleep…and not the kind that was gas or drug-induced.

Bonnie, herself, couldn't sleep. She had tried, but was not able to. She couldn't see how the older man was able to.

She simply sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. If she couldn't sleep, she could at least rest her body…and be grateful that the terrorists were letting them do that. To Marco's mind, a sleeping hostage is one that won't get in your hair or be a hero.

"Gypsy…what is a Gypsy…" she heard beside her in a low mumble. When in sleep, Devon's British accent was thicker, but she could still understand him.

Is he dreaming about what was said earlier…?

A minute later, his body jerked twice and his breath came in a sharp gasp.

"Verona…? Little sister, what is a Gypsy? You know something, don't you? Tell me…"

Verona? But his sister died years ago. She's got nothing to do with it…doesn't she?

"N-no…you must be jesting…no…not me…I'm not…I'm an Englishman. I'm not a—no, it's not true! It's not true!"

Marco's head popped up and snapped in her direction.

"What's going on over there?"

"A nightmare," she replied.

"No, Verona, be quiet! I tell you, it's not true! I'm not…you're not…"

Bonnie shook him and said, "Devon, wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

The older man's eyes snapped open…and were filled with terror as well as something else.

"It's not true, I'm not a g—"

"Devon, this is Bonnie. Do you hear me? You're having a nightmare."

"B…Bonnie…?" he asked, his voice weak with pain and terror.

"Yes, it's me. You had a nightmare about your sister again…I thought those were over."

By then, Marco was standing beside them and he asked, "Verona?" He then peered suspiciously, "A sister named Verona?"

Devon looked at her, angry, but she replied, "You were yelling in your sleep."

He then nodded. "A horrible nightmare…about her and Gypsies."

The terrorist was listening closely. His face twisted into a look of hate as he grabbed the man by the shirt and pulled him up.

"I knew it!" he snapped, "I knew there was a vibe coming from here."

"What in blazes are you talking about?"

Instead of being semi-civil, he used his other hand to punch Devon in the stomach.

"Shut up, filth!"

"What's going on, Marco?" Torres asked, hurrying in from an adjoining room.

Marco had a sardonic grin on his face as he said, "We've just bagged ourselves a Gypsy, and you're not gonna believe who it is."

"Devon Miles?"

"You got it! The guys abroad mentioned something about Verona Miles' brother and that they want him especially."

Bonnie's face lost all color, and Devon went very pale, eyes wide.

"No," he whispered, "It's not true. I'm not…I'm not a--!"

"No use denying it, old baggage. Like I told you before, lady, Gypsies aren't real human beings. They didn't come from the same stuff as the rest of us…and this old man's one of 'em."

Both Bonnie and Devon said the same thing: "No."

"Devon was raised in London, was in the war—"

"My sister died seven years ago, an insane murder—"

"Shut up!" Marco roared, then said to the Englishman, "You're going. Now. You're heading for Mexico…you just won't live to experience it." There was a flash of hard steel that connected to Devon's head, and he slumped.

"Good work, Perez," Marco said relatively quietly, "Hand this…thing over to a few…compadres and then contact jefe Cortez. I have an early call to make."