Thanks for the kind reviews (please keep em coming) and the message of support for my exams. I think I passed though if the fic suddenly gets ridiculously dark you'll know otherwise (not that it won't have its dark bits).
This chapter might be a little dull though it's necessary to set up some of the good stuff I've got coming up. As compensation I've got a decent action sequence in the next chapter for you.
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Terms and Abbreviations:
SD6:Short for HK MP5SD6, a version of the MP5 9mm sub machinegun with an integral silencer and telescopic but stock. Its whisper quiet firing make it a favorite among hostage rescue teams and counter terrorist units around the world.
Laser Microphone:Long range microphone that works by shining a laser on a surface, such as a window and measuring the vibrations.
GM:General Motors. The group that owns Pontiac, Chevrolet, Cadillac, Opel, Vauxhal, Holden, Saab and Hummer among many others.
Nations Cup Monaro: A n enduro race specific version of the Holden Monaro (sold in US as Pontiac GTO with a different grill), only 4 were built, this beast toppled Ferraris and Lamborghinis before they were all electronically neutered as nobody would race against them though even then they put up a tremendous fight
S.N.A.F.U:Situation Normal All F---ed Up
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The early morning cool breeze gently blew the clean forest air over Hurst's face. He closed his eyes, slowly inhaled, held his breath for a couple seconds then exhaled. Marvelous. He stood next to the black Pontiac GTO parked in the 'driveway' of wooden cabin. Hurst had to hand it to his older comrade, hiring a little known hunting lodge a few miles out of town was a brilliant idea. They were unlikely to be searched and the sound of gunfire wouldn't attract any attention should anyone here it.
Hurst was still clad in his usual attire opened the black sports car's boot revealing a small armory. He removed Web's Desert Eagle, a second magazine and a large paper target before closing the boot. He pegged the target up on the washing line and took a poison about fifteen feet (five meters) away. The boy took up a shooting position, exhaled, held his breath and fired. The defending roar of the hand cannon broke the calm of the forest. The all that could be herd was a mass of wildlife getting as far away form the gunshot as possible. A second equally defining gunshot momentarily drowned out the noise created by the retreating wildlife. Hurst waited for a couple seconds till the sound of retreating wildlife had completely died down before firing off a three round burst. The sound of angry footsteps against a wooden floor told Hurst that he'd woken Angela. The cabin door flew open revealing the very tired girl clad in pink pajamas who looked ready to kill.
"What the hell are you doing with that cannon?"
"Web asked me to do some custom work on the trigger mechanism. I'm just assessing its current state."
Web fired another three round burst, emptying the magazine and causing the slide to lock back.
"But why do you have to do it this early in the mourning? And how can I hang up the washing without getting shot"
Hurst almost dropped the gun
"It's eight AM and you've never hung up any washing in your life!"
"But I might some day!"
This caused Hurst to double over laughing until Angela's beautify aimed slipper flew threw the air and bounced off his head.
"Ouch!"
"It serves you bloody well right for waking me up at un-natural hours of the mourning and laughing at me"
"Un natural? Its 0830 most people have been up for hours. Anyway I had to do something to keep me occupied rather than going back to sleep."
"Why were you awake earlier?"
"I had to drop Web at the airport."
"You mean to tell me that you left me ALONE! What if some burglar decided to rob the place? Or worse?"
The feeling of impending doom caused Hurst to instinctively reloaded the gun, not that it would be any use as he'd never even consider firing on Angela, but these instincts that Web had drummed into the boy had saved his life on a few occasions so Hurst figured that he'd better listen to them.
"The place looked disserted, no car no signs of life. Who'd trek out to the middle of nowhere to rob some low rent hunting lodge? And it's not as if you didn't have your SD6 under the bed which would be enough to deal with any burglar."
"But what if THEY showed up?"
The fear was clearly present in her voice. Web picked up the slipper, handed it to Angela and put his arm around her. He did a commendable job of masking his own fear that 'they' might return
"We've talked about this already. Web and I hunted them down and made them pay for what they did back at the facility. If any of them still alive they're in hiding. The ledged surrounding Web had them all running scared. And besides, you're the only family we've got left, we'd never do anything that would put you at risk. If they ever did come back they won't live long enough to even get close to you. We'll make sure of it."
"But if they're not coming back, where did that Suit come from? And how did Terra wind up in it?"
"I don't know. Web's half way to Virginia by now. When he gets back, he'll have some answers for us. He'll even throw Fry and anyone else looking for us off our trail while he's there to buy us some time to work on Terra's predicament."
"But what can we do about that without Web?"
"On the way to the airport this mourning we devised a plan. We know there is a cure out there; we just have no way of administering it. You head inside and get dressed while I make us some breakfast and I'll tell you all about it"
After some thought on Robin's lecture, Beast Boy decided to turn Terra's cave into a shrine. He'd spent a few hours framing every photo and newspaper clipping he could find. After picking up some brass polish and some flowers the green teen journeyed to the cave. Unlike his previous trips, where sadness seemed to radiate from him, this time Beast Boy was more confused than anything else. It wasn't because eh was an idiot As his knowledge was sourced almost exclusively from TV and video games, Beast Boy found that it was easier to just let the others do the thinking, but in this case he wanted to be able to help Terra so badly that he was giving it everything he had.
"So someone's knows about Terra's past and wants to cover it up. Whoever this is did a god job of hiding it by… by doing whatever Robin said they did. Why does someone want to hide her past? Ok, this sounds like a conspiracy, there's a lot of those in The X Files so let's look to that. What did Terra do that somebody doesn't want known? She shot JFK! No, she couldn't have… he was shot by a guy. What about aliens? They're involved in all the really good conspiracies. Could she have something to do with Area 51? That's it! Robin said that sighting was in Nevada and everyone knows that Area 51 is in the Nevada desert! I'm such an idiot! All this thinking is getting nowhere and making my head hurt!"
He was so occupied in his attempt at rational thought that he failed to notice that he was being watched. To his credit, this was being done very professionally, however were he not so preoccupied, even in his human form he might have recognized at least one of the three familiar scents.
None of those familiar scents belonged to Hurst, this was owing to the fact that he was one step ahead and already waiting for Beast Boy in a well concealed position with a clear view of the entrance to Terra's cave. Of course this piece of knowledge has cost both Him and Web a few hours with a spotting scope and a laser microphone. There was no need to risk bugging Titans Tower as the heavy use of glass in its design. However Hurst was stiff as anything after lying in the awkward position required to get a clean view of his side of the tower without being spotted. This time he was making up for it. The fifteen year old wore a pair of navy blue slacks, a graphite colored shirt with the collar undone and a pair of hi powered binoculars hanging from his neck. His black leather jacket was resting beside him on the passenger seat covering his pistol. Hurst had resolved not to leave the comfort of the GTO's red leather seats and climate control air-conditioning.
Hurst was particularly proud of the GTO. A few months ago it was just a stock 2006 model, which isn't exactly a slug. But Hurst had extensively worked on it turning it into an absolute beast. It also didn't hurt rescuing a GM executive's daughter from a bunch of armatures holding her to ransom. In addition to their standard fee, 10 of the ransom, the guy threw in a Chevrolet LS7 427 cubic inch V8 (a slight fraction over 7.0 litres), not that the stock LS2 V8 isn't somewhat of a monster in it's own right but it's bigger brother's torque curve is something that many rev heads would kill for, and that's BEFORE Hurst re built it and added the PWR supercharger, intercooler and performance radiator. All this power was channeled to the rear wheels threw a Hollinger six speed racing gear box to get as much of this power to the road as possible. The massive AP Racing breaks made light work of stopping this beast. When it came to griping and cornering, custom suspension system copied off the Nations Cup Monaro, OZ Racing 18" magnesium alloy racing wheels and the intermediate Dunlop Control Tires out the GTO on a league that rivaled many purpose built race cars. For the business end of things ceramic amour plating was added around the boot and fuel tank. Not only did this give the GTO superb weight distribution but even though few people could hit something moving that fast, Web and Hurst didn't like the idea of a stray round getting to the ammo and creating a decent sized crater. The final touch was the electronic launch control system to reliably and consistently give the car the perfect take off every time. Apart from being very handy when it came to getaways, it crowned the GTO the supreme lord of traffic light grand prix.
A smile lit Hurst's face as a black and purple clad, green headed figure approached the mouth of the cave.
"That's right fuzz-ball, you just head right on in there."
Beast Boy entered the cave as if he'd herd the instructions. Hurst Grinned. Usually when Web said something was going to be a piece of cake that usually meant that they, Hurst in particular, were in for some S.N.A.F.U. though for once it looked like Web was right. That was until about 30 seconds later when the three people who were following Beast Boy regrouped near the mouth of the cave. Although Hurst had never seen them before, he didn't need the binoculars to tell they were trouble.
"I said just head on into the cave! I definitely DID NOT tell you to get your green butt followed!"
Hurst brought the binoculars to bear with his left hand while reaching for the Colt with his right. Following his natural instincts, Hurst started checking out the apparent leader of the group. He decided that the leader must be to be the slim, well shaped female member of the group. After 'diligently observing' her for a good twenty seconds, it occurred to Hurst that the bizarre clothing and hairdo color were probably bad signs.
Hurst's binoculars veered to the left focusing on the short, bald kid clad in green. Physically he didn't look like much of a threat though the electronic goggles on his head looked military grade and the backpack appeared to have some grenades strapped to the side.
The real worry was the big guy. The guy was definitely serious trouble and whilst Hurst was quite accomplished at hand to hand combat, as Aqualad had found out the hard way, he didn't like his chances against somebody that big. Fortunately, Web and Hurst happened to have a tried and true solution for serious trouble: Surprise and firepower.
Hurst got out of the car, stuffed his Colt into the back of his pants and went to the boot. He couldn't help grinning as he removed the accessorized Barrett M468 carbine from the boot and extended the telescopic stock. It had a forward assault grip on the under barrel accessory rail and an ITL MARS reflexive sight on the top. Hurst pulled back the cocking handle to examine the chamber while marveling at the rifle's smooth action prior to releasing the cocking handle. Next he removed two 28 round magazines strapped together and inserted the end of one into the magazine well. As a precaution he grabbed another two similarly taped magazines and stuck them in his right pocket. He doubted he's need all 100 rounds (you always leave three rounds out of the magazine so the springs don't wear out) but it couldn't hurt to bring extra. At least it couldn't hurt Hurst. Ordinarily he'd have been thrilled at the chance to cut loose with his favorite rifle but Angela's presents in the potential combat zone scared him to death. He also would have been thinking about ways to avoid killing the aggressors but Hurst would gun them down without a second thought if it meant less risk to Angela. He knew that Web would do the same thing. The boy racked the cocking handle then slammed the forward bolt assist with the heel of his palm.
"Hang on Angela, I'm coming."