The previous day...
Sunday, May 28th, 2017
21:27 GMT-7 (04:27 GMT May 29th)
Vancouver, Canada
The Vancouver Ninja was in trouble.
If she did not die from her injuries, then Phosphor would gut her and ensure that she did die! She was out of bounds. She was out of contact. She was alone. She was hurt.
The gunfight had been extreme, and Concord had been forced to bug out, but she had become separated from Blackout, only to then receive three bullets into her back armour – one bullet had damaged her communications equipment while another had struck her on her left side, winding her, before the other had possibly broken a rib on her right side. A moment of inattention thanks to the pain and she had found herself on East Waterfront Road – a part of Vancouver which was off limits to vigilantes if they enjoyed living. The docks were a medium-high crime zone which policed itself and which was covered by an informal agreement where Concord stayed out, and those inside the zone kept their nefarious business out of the city. It was not the best deal, but it would have to do until Concord grew sufficiently powerful enough to take the fight into the docks.
Ninja Girl was scared. She knew that she had fucked up rather badly. Then she had found herself surrounded by eight men, all armed with automatic weapons. She had emptied the magazine on her Glock 19 Gen4 pistol, allowing her to break for it. But they had corralled her, away from safety and worked her deeper into the docks which made up the port. By the time she was clear of the men, she had received a burst of automatic gunfire into her left side causing excruciating pain. Then, as she had hidden herself amongst the thousands of steel cargo containers stacked five and six high, she had felt herself feeling very tired and she had weaved from side to side before she had then lost control of her motorcycle completely.
Then darkness had blissfully taken over.
Monday, May 29th
02:12 GMT-7 (09:12 GMT May 29th)
When Ninja Girl regained consciousness, she felt woozy, but then as she tried to move, she screamed out as a sharp pain shot through her torso.
"I wouldn't move, if I were you, but then I am not you, so move if you wish."
The accent was American, but not entirely; there was some Canadian in there, too. It was a young voice which immediately put Ninja Girl at ease. Then a thought struck her, and she reached up to her face. She still wore her gauntlet and her mask appeared to be in place.
"Your identity is your own, Vancouver Ninja," the voice stated, obviously knowing who she was.
"Where am I?" Ninja Girl asked, pleased to hear the rasp of the electronic voice unit disguising her voice.
"Safe from the men who are hunting you. I have been here for weeks and they never come here."
"Who are you?"
"Jasmine."
"Your name is Jasmine?"
"That's what I said," the voice replied testily.
Ninja Girl forced her eyes to open and she found herself staring into a set of hazel eyes. The girl was young, maybe ten years old and she had long dark blonde hair. As for herself, the vigilante was leaning against a steel bulkhead, her armour-clad legs outstretched before her.
"I think I've staunched the bleeding, but you lost a lot of blood – I'll see if I can find you some blood expander."
"Blood?"
"Yes, you were shot – I removed a bullet and cleaned up where a few more ripped open your skin. To be honest, you were incredibly lucky – your suit protected you from the worst of the strike."
As Ninja Girl looked downward, she saw that her combat suit had been unzipped to reveal her T-shirt which she wore over her sports bra. The left side of the T-shirt was torn and bloody. She could see where a field dressing had been applied to her left side a few inches above her left hip.
"My motorcycle – first aid kit, left pannier . . . you can release the pannier . . . but you need to..."
Ninja Girl explained how to remove the pannier and open it, without being blown up, just seconds before she passed out.
09:08 GMT-7 (16:08 GMT May 29th)
She felt better when she awoke after what turned out to be almost seven hours of sleep.
A brief look around saw that she was alone. She was still lying against the same steel bulkhead but her left arm had been pulled from her combat suit and a drip had been installed into a vein. The plastic tube and needle had been expertly taped with medical gauze. The opposite end of the plastic tube was attached to a half-litre PVC bag, the clear liquid gel within which was about a third gone. The PVC bag hung on a nail which had been driven into a length of wood which was, in turn, propped up against the same steel bulkhead which she was leaning against. She could see the pannier from her motorcycle a few feet away – it was open. The blood expander feeding into her vein was from the first aid kit carried in the pannier which contained critical items such as a complete intravenous treatment kit including various fluids – it was a PVC bag of Gelofusine which was currently keeping her alive, replacing the missing blood from her system.
"So, you're still alive."
The girl had returned.
"Jasmine, right?"
"Yes."
"You're good with this shit," Ninja Girl said, indicating the drip.
"Nothing much to it, really."
"Very sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"You unsure of yourself, are you?"
"No!" Ninja Girl replied indignantly.
"How did you get here, anyway?" the girl asked.
Ninja Girl grimaced.
"We . . . that is, Concord . . . we were going after a drug dealer. Turned out that the dealer was making a deal with another drug dealer. Unfortunately, we were seriously outnumbered – and outgunned. We did hold them off long enough for the deal to go south which was a success, I suppose."
"And?" Jasmine prompted.
"I got separated from Blackout, and then I got shot in the back . . . I kinda found myself in the docks – total accident. Then I was shot again, and I blacked out."
"As good a story as any, vigilante. You need to drink and eat."
Jasmine passed her masked visitor a half-litre bottle of water and two energy bars.
"Get that lot down you, now."
"Pushy bitch!"
Jasmine grinned and wandered off to the opposite side of the container. Ninja Girl obeyed instructions and she spent twenty minutes eating and drinking, before she began to feel really tired. She had never felt so worn out. Her side was aching, and her head began to swim. She found her eyes closing and then there was just blissful blackness.
Jasmine looked over at the sleeping vigilante for a moment before she lay down herself and closed her eyes.
14:08 GMT-7 (16:08 GMT May 29th)
Another five hours sleep saw the young vigilante awake feeling a little more human.
As she looked around, she saw Jasmine, curled up on a mattress, fast asleep. She forced herself to her feet, shedding her armoured top. They were in a steel container which had been sparsely decorated with a few rugs on the floor and some movie posters affixed to the walls with magnets – apparently, Jasmine enjoyed Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. As Ninja Girl moved slowly around, she grinned at the posters of Commando, Predator, and the first two Terminator movies.
"You look better," Jasmine pointed out as she sat up on her mattress.
"Thanks to you," Ninja Girl replied. "Er, I need to..."
"Behind that curtain at the end," Jasmine said.
Ninja Girl frowned as she moved slowly to the far end of the container to where she found a curtained-off area which held a camping toilet. On the floor beside it was a stack of toilet rolls.
"Nice!" the teenager hissed as she gingerly pushed down her armoured trousers and her boy shorts before sitting down.
With immense relief, she went about her duty before she redressed and made use of a pack of baby wipes on her hands and face.
"Thank you, Jasmine," Ninja Girl said as she looked at the panel on her left wrist. "Christ! I've been gone sixteen hours!"
"You can't call your team for help?" Jasmine asked as she too vanished behind the curtain.
"Comms are busted."
Ninja Girl pulled the comms unit off her utility belt and she sat back down, grimacing with the pain from her injuries and wishing that she could remove her mask.
..._...
On closer inspection, the comms unit was not just 'busted', it was severely damaged.
The bullet which had struck the unit had destroyed the SD card which was essential for the encrypted operation of the unit. That was not a major issue as a spare SD card was carried, however, there was a further problem; the SD slot was also damaged. Therefore, with the help of tools from her motorcycle pannier, the young vigilante began to investigate how she might fix the communications unit. Her motorcycle carried a tracker, as did she, but she knew that Concord would not venture in until they had proper intel on where their friend was located.
"So, Jasmine, what's your story? Where are your parents?"
"Killed 'em."
That simple statement shocked Ninja Girl and she said nothing for a few moments before her tired mind told her that she knew of some others who had done the very same. She had been appalled to hear about what Carrie was and how she had become what she was. Carrie had simply shrugged; it was a part of her life and something which could not be changed. Carrie had lost a third of her life to something abhorrent and downright horrible. Ninja Girl looked up at the poster of the 1987 movie.
"You're one of them, right?"
Jasmine turned to see where her guest was looking, and she sighed.
"What would you know about that?" she challenged.
"I know what one is and how they came into being."
"Oh."
"Is that all you can say?"
"What else is there to say?" Jasmine responded with anger in her tone. "I lost a chunk of my childhood, so fucking what? Don't you dare feel sorry for me!"
Jasmine was angry, her eyes blazing. It was not the first time Ella had seen a Predator angry with life, but it was the first time that she had seen one so young. She had been told that Predators of all ages from eight upwards had been recovered which had been a shocking thing to learn. It was difficult to see the little girl before her as a psychotic assassin who was probably more highly skilled then she, the Vancouver Ninja, was.
"When the facility fell, I was cast out. I headed north from Colorado," Jasmine said, sitting down and speaking in a level, but forceful tone. "I have spent the past year stealing food. I was supposed to be more than just a petty thief – I thought that my training might actually give my life meaning . . . instead, I'm here, rotting away in this shithole in Canada. I don't know what to do. I am alone and there is nobody to give me instruction."
"Jasmine," Ninja Girl replied. "I will help you; I promise. If I get out of this, then you are coming with me. I know Predators and I know someone who can help you."
"You mean that?" Jasmine asked.
"I swear it."
Jasmine sat down on her mattress; her expression despondent.
"How have you survived, here, in the docks?"
"They leave me alone," Jasmine responded matter-of-factly. "Mostly. I kinda roughed one guy up and left him with a large scar on his right cheek. They think I'm a freak of nature . . . I suppose they're right."
"No, they are not right. From what I know, you did not exactly have a choice about what you are."
"Oh, there was a choice," Jasmine replied in a sarcastic tone. "Learn to kill or suffer a nine-millimetre-induced aneurysm."
"You're a damn Predator alright!" Ninja Girl grimaced. "You've got that sick sense of humour."
"You need help with that, Ninja Girl?" Jasmine asked with a grin as Ninja Girl struggled with the communications unit.
Ninja Girl scowled at Jasmine's use of her pet name.
"Can do."
19:24 GMT-7 (02:24 GMT May 30th)
It was early evening and Ninja Girl was getting tired and frustrated.
Despite being plied with plenty of water and energy bars, her wound was sapping her strength and despite numerous warnings from Jasmine, she pushed on, until... When ten-year-old Jasmine Summers returned from a short run around the block to check that all was clear, she found the Vancouver Ninja lying on the floor where she had fallen while working on the damaged communications unit.
"Fucking stubborn bitch!" Jasmine growled as she ran over to the older girl and dropped down beside her.
A quick examination showed that the vigilante had passed out. Jasmine quickly rolled her masked visitor over so that she could check the wound.
"Damn!"
There was a lot of blood – it looked like the sutures which she had inserted, earlier on that day, had come loose. Thankfully, Jasmine had no problem with the sight of blood – actually, she rather enjoyed the feel of it as well as the coppery smell which accompanied larger quantities of the stuff. Jasmine snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, before she pulled away the dressing and she plunged her fingers into the wound, searching for problems. Despite her tender age, Jasmine, like all Predators, learnt first aid to a high level as well as some minor surgical skills – enough to treat the minor wounds which they might encounter during a mission, just enough to allow a mission to be completed. Most Predators could remove a bullet and sew up the wound by the time they were a Phase 2 Predator.
Carefully, Jasmine cleaned the wound and she began to sew the skin back together again. The vigilante would have a scar, but that could not be helped. Her earlier sutures were not really suitable for the type of wound, but a quick rummage through the Concord first aid kit had produced a suturing kit.
Jasmine went to work.
..._...
Thirty minutes later, Jasmine snapped off the rubber gloves.
The work was not exactly perfect, but Jasmine was incredibly pleased with the results. After mopping up any blood, Jasmine had applied a fresh sterilised dressing to the wound and then taped it in place. Thankfully, apart from a brief moan of pain, the vigilante had not awoken during the minor surgery. However, the vigilante had talked in her sleep, specifically mentioning two names: Phosphor and Coyote. While Coyote meant nothing to Jasmine, the young girl had heard the other name before.
As for Vancouver's Ninja, Jasmine was still trying to figure out what to do about her, but to while away the time, the youngster began fiddling with the communications unit.
Northern Vancouver
19:54 GMT-7 (02:54 GMT May 30th)
Safehouse Prime
To say that Dylan was worried was a major understatement.
The youth was doing everything that he could to regain contact with Ella. He sat staring at the same screen which he had been staring at for nigh on twenty-four hours without a break, often dozing off. The flashing dots, just two hundred yards apart, showed the location of Ella and her motorcycle. The battery powering the video cameras mounted on the Vancouver Ninja's motorcycle was almost depleted – not that it had showed much after the motorcycle had crashed – it was like something had been thrown over the machine. As for the Vancouver Ninja's own communications, they had gone offline during the initial evasion. Carrie and Jay had gone ballistic when they had found out that Ella had ventured into the docks.
"I will fucking skin her alive!" Carrie had exploded.
Then, almost twenty hours after the communications had gone offline, a loud beeping woke the dozing Dylan. At first the boy was confused, but then he jumped up, knocking his chair over in his excitement. He blundered out of the command centre and bellowed at the top of his voice.
"Ella's comms are back online!"
There was a lot of noise as Carrie and Dylan bolted up from their seats and ran for the command centre.
"Concord, please respond, over." A pause. "Concord, please respond, over."
The voice was alien, but it was coming over the Vancouver Ninja's encrypted voice circuit.
"Who is this?" Carrie demanded as she picked up a cordless headset.
"Identify!" came the response.
"This is Phosphor, now who the fuck are you?"
"Phosphor, huh? I won't say my name over this channel, but if you are who I think you are, you gave some of us a damn good show in the shower a few years back, not to mention that ridiculous lower haircut."
Carrie did not respond; she was shocked.
"What the fuck does that mean?" Dylan asked as Jay grinned.
"Carrie masturbated for a dare in front of twenty boys and girls," Jay explained, ignoring Carrie's pink cheeks. "Not to mention that she had shaved her pubes into some weird arrangement."
"I was thirteen!" Carrie tried.
"That girl on the comms is obviously a Predator," Jay finished.
"Can we trust her?" Dylan asked.
"Do we have a fucking choice?" Carrie growled before she pressed the radio button. "Is she alive?"
"Yes, but she needs surgery – I've done the best I can."
"Can we get in to extract her?"
"Negative – they'll cut you down, just like they did her."
"Are you safe?"
"For now."
"Okay, stay put and call in on the hour," Carrie responded. "Your codename is Valerian, got that? Valerian."
"I'm not hard of hearing, fuckwit!"
Carrie chuckled.
"Stay safe."
"Valerian out!"
"We need help," Carrie decided. "I'm hitting the panic button."
Jay nodded.
Tuesday, May 30th
The Docks
03:40 GMT-7 (10:40 GMT May 30th)
It was very dark when Ninja Girl awoke.
Carefully, she sat up and she groped around her waist until she found her flashlight. With a grimace, the girl stood up and she moved slowly towards the end of the container to pee.
"You're awake," came a voice out of the darkness. "Good – they're coming for us at dawn."
"What?"
"I fixed your comms gear – I spoke to some bitch called Phosphor."
"An apt description – I'd better check in."
The Vancouver Ninja sat back down on the floor of the container and she checked that her mask was connected to the comms unit. She hesitated for a moment before she pressed the transmit button.
"Concord, this is Vancouver Ninja, over."
"You fucking bitch!" came the angry response. "I am going to fucking gut you!"
It was Phosphor and she was understandably pissed at her.
"You okay?" came a calmer question.
"No," Ninja Girl replied honestly.
"We'll be there at oh-five-fifteen, and you had better be fucking ready!"
"Looking forward to it."
"The shit with you – Valerian, we're calling her – she knows the plan. Phosphor out!"
"That went well!" Ninja Girl mused as she reached for the top of her combat suit. "Okay, Valerian, read me in."
05:01 GMT-7 (12:01 GMT May 30th)
Most Concord operations had an even fifty-fifty chance of going to shit.
Technically, the operation had not actually kicked off, yet it had still gone to shit! The Dockers had found them. Right at that moment, the Vancouver Ninja was struggling to hide between two containers while the young Valerian was busy shredding Dockers with a P90 which the young girl had appropriated from the crashed motorcycle. It was time for a plan.
"What plan are we on?" Ninja Girl asked.
"That would be plan C, I think," Blackout responded as he accelerated up the ramp towards the checkpoint on Heatley Avenue.
The vehicle had never been used before as the need had never arisen, however, the armoured Ford F-150 Raptor, known as GRIZZLY, was now much more suitable than motorcycles. Ella, herself, had named the beast due to the throaty roar of the vehicle's turbo-charged six-cylinder engine. The vehicle was enormous and fitted with a winch as well as steel-reinforced bumpers front and rear plus gun stowage under the rear seat and alongside the front passenger.
Blackout was driving the monster and beside him, Coyote sat in the passenger seat, a SIG Sauer MPX sub-machinegun in his hands. It was his first mission out . . . since the abortive mission where he had frozen. Coyote braced himself as the truck smashed through the lowered barrier at the security shack. They could hear the chatter of automatic gunfire not far away and they were both desperate to get to their friend before anything bad happened to her. However, between them and Ninja Girl were the Dockers and they were armed with assault rifles.
It was a suicide mission, plain and simple, however, Concord had planned for that.
..._...
With a roar of rotor blades and the scream of a gas turbine, the Eurocopter EC120 appeared on the Dockers' right flank.
The light helicopter had had all the doors removed and a masked, armour-clad vigilante leaned out of the portside opening, armoured boots standing on the port skid. A safety line prevented Piranha from falling out of the helicopter. In the cockpit, Rampart steadied the helicopter, her flight helmet heads-up-display assisting with situational awareness of her surroundings. On the opposing starboard skid, Phosphor held the same weapon as Piranha, an FN Herstal Minimi Mk3 light machinegun in the L110A2 guise, firing rounds from a 100-round soft pouch.
The Dockers were caught totally unaware and they scattered as bodies began to fall. The shock factor was such that many of the Dockers forgot to fire upon the attacking helicopter as they ran from the devastating gunfire. There was another shock in store for the Dockers as they ran for safety. Not only did they have to avoid the disturbingly accurate gunfire of Valerian, they had to contend with an incoming SUV which funnelled them towards the perceived safety of several stacks of steel cargo containers. Only, as they approached, there was a massive explosion as the Vancouver Ninja's motorcycle exploded, destroying all Concord systems in the process, as well as taking down three men and injuring seven more with shrapnel.
The distraction was enough for Rampart to bring the rented helicopter down onto the concrete where Phosphor and Piranha dived out to assist Ninja Girl who was seriously struggling. Covering fire was provided by Valerian who was low on ammunition after nearly thirty minutes of fighting. However, two men had managed to circle around, and they came for the helicopter, raising their assault rifles as they aimed for the helmeted pilot. Rampart saw them coming and she drew her pistol, snapping off several rounds and dropping both men before she returned her hand to the cyclic and prepared for a rapid take off as Ninja Girl was shoved aboard and Valerian jumped into the co-pilot's seat, her P90 spitting out death right up to the final round.
"Go! Go! Go!" Phosphor bellowed once everyone was aboard.
Rampart increased speed to the turbine above their heads and she pulled up on the collective before diving for cover behind the myriad containers on the docks and heading east to make her escape. At the same time, GRIZZLY had turned around and was making for safety, bullets striking the armour-clad vehicle but having no effect.
"Ninja Girl is safe, repeat, Ninja Girl is safe!" Phosphor radioed to all. "At least until I get her to safety, then I'm gonna fucking kill her!"
The Vancouver Ninja grinned weakly as she heard the radio call before she slumped over in the back of the helicopter and passed out.
Northern Vancouver
07:00 GMT-7 (14:00 GMT May 30th)
Safehouse Prime
The trip back was much longer due to the need for ensuring that they were not being followed.
The helicopter had been 'dumped' but would be returned to the hirer in due course. All had returned to the safehouse, including the girl, Jasmine Summers. Naturally, the girl had been blindfolded and she had not seen anyone without a mask, except for one person.
"You did very well," Doctor Jennifer Staite said to the young girl who sat on the bed in the medical bay wrapped in a towel. "Thanks to you, the Vancouver Ninja will live to fight another day. Your medical skills are first-rate, Jasmine."
"Thanks – I did what I could."
"You're ten, right?"
"Yes."
"Did you know a young girl, a little older than you, called Stephanie?"
"Stephanie? Stephanie Walker?"
Jennifer nodded.
"I knew her; been over a year since I last saw her, though," Jasmine replied. "I would expect her to be dead, by now . . . she never could look after herself without getting into trouble."
Jennifer chuckled to herself.
..._...
"What are we going to do with you?"
Ella looked up at her friends and her parents – their expressions were a mixture of anger and happiness.
"I messed up; I'm sorry."
"Oh, you will be very sorry," Carrie responded.
"We're just glad that you're in one piece," Amelia Milligan said to her daughter.
Ella lay in her bed at the safehouse feeling very unwell but pleased that she was finally safe. She knew that because of her mistake, she would be out of action for a number of weeks putting more pressure on her friends.
"You behave, now," her father said as he kissed his daughter on the forehead.
"Thanks, Daddy," Ella replied.
"Get better, cousin, so I can kick your ass from one side of Vancouver to the fucking other!" Carrie smiled.
"Looking forward to it," Ella grinned rather sheepishly.
"Don't scare me again," Dylan said as he gave Ella a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you for coming for me," Ella replied as she felt her entire face heating up.
"Always," Dylan grinned as his own face began to heat up.
"Come on, guys," Jay said. "Let's leave Ella to rest."
12:04 GMT-7 (19:00 GMT May 30th)
Jasmine had slept for a few hours after having been medically examined.
She had also enjoyed her first proper hot shower in weeks, if not months. On top of that, she had brand new clothing to replace the stinking rags in which she had lived. The massive breakfast had not gone amiss, either. She had been kept in the medical bay, seeing no one other than the doctor, since her arrival almost six hours earlier. Then, the young girl received the shock of her life.
"Well, aren't you a sorry looking bitch!"
Jasmine's mind immediately recognised the voice, but she was not ready for who stood in the doorway of the medical bay.
"Ruth! Steph!"
Jasmine felt unbidden emotions welling up inside of her and she scrambled off the bed. She was not the only one crying as all three friends hugged.
"Dammit, Jasmine, it is so good to see you," Stephanie said.
"I can't believe that you two are still alive – especially you, Stephy."
"I can look after myself, you know!" Stephy replied somewhat indignantly.
"You should hear the shit she's gotten herself into without us to protect her," Ruth commented. "She's been shot by a sniper – she almost died. She's been blown up – she survived that. She's been . . . well, there's plenty of time to go through Stephy's fuck ups later," Ruth countered.
"I . . . no, there isn't time...," Stephy spluttered.
"Have you got boobs?" Jasmine asked Stephanie.
"So – I'm a girl," Stephanie replied.
"Ruth's are bigger, I think."
"Can't a girl grow boobs without the whole damn world worrying about them!" Stephanie growled.
"I think we touched a nerve, Jasmine," Ruth grinned.
"My life sucks!" Stephanie complained as she gave Jasmine another hug.
..._...
"What's going to happen to me?"
"That is up to you, Jasmine," Stephanie replied. "I have a family. Ruth has a family. What do you want out of life?"
"I don't want to be alone," Jasmine replied, somewhat forlornly.
"None of us do," Ruth confirmed. "First off, you are going to come back to Chicago with us. You will be given somewhere to live and time to consider what you want."
"Okay. Now, I have a question for you, Stephanie."
"Go ahead," Stephanie replied, conscious of the use of her full first name.
"What are you two involved in?"
"Come again?" Stephanie asked, despite knowing exactly what her friend was on about.
"This is a safehouse which I would guess belongs to Concord. Neither of you was escorted in here – nor do I see any evidence of blindfolds. I get involved with the rescue of a Concord vigilante and then you two show up. Are you a secret vigilante, Stephanie?"
"I could tell you but then I would have to shoot you," Stephanie grinned. "Why don't I let my mother explain."
"Who's your mother, Hit Girl?" Jasmine asked sarcastically with a laugh.
"Hello, Jasmine," an American accent said as a young woman with blonde hair entered the room. "My name is Mindy Lizewski and I am Stephanie's long-suffering mother."
"Hi," Jasmine replied.
"I also go by another name," Mindy said coldly, her green eyes boring deep into Jasmine's own hazel eyes.
Jasmine saw a deep darkness in those green eyes. She saw death. She saw sadness. She saw a cold desolate hell. It was not new to the girl; she had seen something similar in her friends' eyes – it was fairly standard in a Predator, but nothing like as severe as what she could see in those green eyes.
"Hello, Hit Girl," Jasmine said coolly. "I was supposed to kill you, whenever I met you, but considering you've taken on Psyche as your daughter, I think you've been punished enough."
Mindy laughed out loud as did Ruth while Stephanie simply scowled at the blatant put down.
..._...
Jasmine found herself being led out of the medical bay and deeper into the safehouse – without a blindfold.
"You tell anybody about what you see or hear, and she will kill you and me, understand?" Stephanie assured her friend.
"I kinda figured that," Jasmine replied. "You vouched for me?"
"I did."
"Thanks, it actually feels like I may have a chance at a future which was a lot more than I had just yesterday morning."
Jasmine was led down a corridor and into a room with three beds in it. One of the beds was occupied.
"Jasmine, this is Ella, otherwise known as the Vancouver Ninja," Mindy announced.
Ella smiled at Jasmine.
"Thank you for saving my life, Jasmine."
"You needed help," Jasmine muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "Besides, I got plenty of practice with Stephanie, back in the day."
"I am so beginning to hate you," Stephanie muttered as Ruth giggled.
Leaving Ella to rest, Jasmine next found herself in a large open area with couches and chairs.
"A drink, Jasmine?"
"Thank you, Carrie – a Coke, please."
"You remember me," Carrie commented as she handed over the cold can direct from the fridge.
"Yes, I do – no hard feelings, I hope," Jasmine said, offering her hand.
"None at all, Jasmine," Carrie replied, shaking the younger girl's hand. "This is Jay and Dylan."
"Oh, yes, I remember Jay – he'd always get stiff when Carrie was nearby," Jasmine grinned.
Dylan laughed out loud as Carrie and Jay both blushed pink.
That evening
18:45 GMT-7 (01:45 GMT May 31st)
Safehouse Prime
"Good luck, Jasmine," Carrie offered.
"Stay safe," Ella added. "Maybe we'll see you again."
"I'd like that," Jasmine admitted.
"Let's go," Mindy directed. "Keep up the good work, Carrie."
Carrie grinned and nodded in response.
..._...
Forty minutes later, Jasmine was wide-eyed as she boarded the most amazing aircraft she had ever seen.
"This way, Jasmine," the flight attendant said. "My name is Amy, please select any seat. Hello, Stephanie, please take your seat and belt up. Lucy, Willow, Ruth, please take your seats."
Jasmine and Ruth giggled as Stephanie grinned sheepishly as she sat down and belted up.
"Amy is not Stephanie's biggest fan," Lucy explained.
"Not a surprise," Jasmine reported dryly. "Stephanie has a knack for pissing people off."
"I do not!"
"What did I say, Miss Lizewski?" Amy enquired. "Don't make me go find the Duct Tape . . . welcome aboard, Mrs Lizewski, Mrs Staite; we will take off momentarily."
Mindy winked at Stephanie who simply glared down at the table, ignoring the giggling coming from Ruth and Jasmine who were both seated across from her.
The following morning...
Wednesday, May 31st, 2017
08:00 GMT-6 (14:00 GMT May 31st)
Glenview
Chicago, USA
Jasmine had slept like a log, in a proper bed.
The flight from Vancouver had been amazing and she had quite literally stuffed her face with the most amazing cheeseburger which had been the absolute best she had tasted in years – if not ever. The flight had allowed her to catch up with Ruth and Stephanie, where she had been astounded to hear about Ruth's brush with pirates, not to mention Stephanie's brush with just about everything. All joking aside, Jasmine had been close to tears as she had heard about Stephanie's time in hospital, after being shot. Initially, the girl had been dubious about her future, but she knew that she could trust Stephanie and Ruth, however, the fun on the flight back – even with the dreaded Lucy and Hit Girl – had been awesome. Jasmine had missed much of the drive from the airport to her temporary home, and she could barely remember climbing a sweeping staircase before falling into bed.
It was only in the morning that Jasmine found she had shared a bed with Stephanie. As for Stephanie, she appeared from the bathroom having just showered. After a brief exchange of 'Morning!', Jasmine was amused to watch Stephanie fiddle with a bra before pulling on her knickers and then a blouse and a...
"I never thought I'd see the bloody day!" Jasmine exclaimed. "Stephanie in a fucking skirt!"
"She only wears it because of Tommy," a voice from the door stated.
"Jasmine, meet my annoying little sister, Anne-Marie."
"Hi, Jasmine."
"Who's Tommy?" Jasmine asked.
"Nobody!" Stephanie announced quickly, leaping for Anne-Marie, and clamping a hand over the nine-year-old girl's mouth.
"Tommy's my sister's boyfriend," another voice announced.
"They like to snog," yet another voice added.
"Fuck!" Stephanie growled. "These are my brat brothers, Jamie and Danny. Annoying siblings, this is Jasmine."
"Hello," Jasmine said with a wave.
"Jamie's a Predator but the twins are slightly more normal," Stephanie advised.
"Not by much," Jamie quipped, ignoring Anne-Marie's scowl.
"You all off to school, then?" Jasmine asked.
"Yep," Jamie replied. "We still have three weeks left. Mum says you're with her, today."
Jasmine winced.
"You'll be safe," Stephanie grinned. "Probably..."
..._...
Jasmine actually felt quite worried once the other children had left.
As she sat on a couch in the living room, beside a sweet ginger cat, and with three large dogs at her feet, she found herself seemingly alone. That did not last long as she soon found herself with company. Jasmine looked up to see Mindy Lizewski enter the room. Two of the three dogs perked up while the cat simply meowed.
"You okay, Jasmine?"
"A little nervous, I think."
"I am not about to hurt you, in any way, I promise. However, I just want to talk, and maybe see what you can do."
"What do you want to know?"
"I understand that you fought well on the docks. I also understand that you survived for quite a while on your own. Do you still have a lust for fighting? Do you want to fight again? Do you want a normal life?"
"Thanks," Jasmine replied. "It was the first time I've used a firearm in quite a while, but it felt good . . . and those men deserved to die. Do I want a normal life? Yes, I do – it's obviously working for Steph and her brother . . . they both seem okay going to school and living a normal life. But..."
"No buts," Mindy interrupted. "We can find you a home with people who understand your needs, who understand what you have gone through. From this moment on, you will never be alone – unless that is what you want. You are in full control of your life from this moment on. You choose when to kill. You choose when to fight. You choose when to do fuck all."
"Can I go back to Canada? I like what they do up there and I'd like to be a part of that – if they'd have me..."
"Considering you saved the life of one of them, I don't see them saying no. You've also proven that you can fight, too. I have an idea of which family will take you in, too. For now, let's go shopping; you need some more clothes."
Jasmine grinned happily.