Well...I had originally planned on getting out a chapter a month...annnnd that idea went Missing In Action after about a week; which was around the same time I finally had saved enough to buy an XBox One. Funny coincidence, ain't that? I tell you what, that little box is a time machine. You'll sit down after work on Friday, and next thing you know, it's Sunday evening. Luckily, I was able to resist that siren song and buckle down. Below is the result, written, typed and reviewed over the course of eight very late weeknights. It was actually really fun to write that much in such a short time, at such an obscene hour; it felt like being back in college! Oh, memories. Thank you so very much with your patience, I really appreciate it. Please, read and enjoy!


. . .

"Wake up in the mornin', feelin' like P-Diddy…Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, gonna hit this city…"

"Mornin' Josh." I was stirring my first coffee and checking in on Canti and Josh's progress. Josh was at his bank of computers, headphones on his ears, and was doing his best to help Canti crack the Scorpion bot's encryption. Josh had gone home, but Canti had stayed at his post the whole night through; although it was impossible to tell if he had made any progress.

"Hey Rig, what's new?" Josh pulled half his headphones up to free up an ear. "It's the same's before for me and Canti. This bot has some new sort of encryption we've never seen before, can't figure out its key…yaddah…yaddah…yaddah…" Josh's moodiness wasn't unusual. He gets cranky when something, especially a computer related problem, is stumping him.

"And that's why we keep you around." I looked in at Josh's computers and may as well have tried to read Egyptian hieroglyphics. "Do you think Canti can do it?"

"He's probably the only one that can; until we get around to inventing that quantum computer I keep asking about." He sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting his arms hang so his fingers were just off the floor. "It'll be a major pain, but if we can get just a peek at M-M's coding…we could begin taking their encryption programs apart. But…"

"But, what?"

"But why does it have to take sooooo looooonggggg?!" He picked up a loose bolt from the floor and side-armed it at the Scorpion. The bolt bounced off the Scorpion's back with a dull thunk, eliciting no response from the hunk of murderous metal. "C'mon already! Spill your guts, open up, talk dirty to me you naughty little…"

"Keep on keepin' on." I clapped Josh on the shoulder. "You'll get 'em, in time." Josh just grumbled, pulled his headphone down and went back to work; almost as machine-like as his blue-green counterpart. I turned to look out the Bay 1 door, and saw a black Chevy S-10 pulling into the lot.

"Rig, you're early." Tommy hopped out of his truck, holding his door open so Bolt could exit the passenger seat. "It's only seven, you usually don't roll in 'till eight. Is that Josh in there?" He looked in through the regular sized door, between the bay doors and the office. "He hasn't been here all night, has he?"

"No, got in early this morning; prob'bly 'bout six…I think." I followed Tommy and Bolt to the office, closing the door behind us. Tommy took his desk, I mine, and Bolt his station under Tommy's desk; his thumping tail sticking out was the only sign he was there.

"Huh, must've wanted to get an early crack at that bot's encryption." Tommy poured his own coffee, cream, no sugar. He took an orange prescription bottle out of his pocket, palmed two of the pills and downed them with coffee. "But that still doesn't explain why you're up so early." Tommy knows me too well. "What's up?"

"Nothin'…just felt like gettin' up early's all." I pretended to check our official Overwatch email, fortunately it was empty. This's one inbox where you don't want to see a new message.

"Rig…don't you 'nothin'' me." He swung his boots off his desk, stamping them flat to the floor. "You didn't sleep well, did you?"

"How'd you guess? Your crystal ball?"

"The bags under your eyes make you look like a raccoon, for starters." Then he indicated at my chest with his coffee mug. "And you put your shirt on inside out. So, what's up?"

"Damn it all…" I looked down, and so it was. "Oh…it's just a hodge-podge of…well…" I fiddled around for the right words while switching my shirt so the 'AK Operator's Union: Local 47' logo was properly displayed. "A hodge-podge of fuckery. And that's about how I feel."

"Is there…something I missed?" Tommy asked, eyebrows disappearing under the brim of his hat.

"Well, partly. Before you showed up last night, Haruko and Naota were bickerin' at each other almost as ferociously as they beat up on that bot. And Haruko, oh man Tommy, if you'd seen the look on her face, it was just like…murder. Like she was going to take Naota apart, starting from the toes and working her way up."

"That's certainly not good. But he's still alive, so what'd you do?"

"I managed, somehow, to talk them down. For a moment though, I thought I was gonna have to shoot her. A bot, shooting one of those, no problem. It's a hunk of metal, it'd be like shooting a pop can. But…"

"Rig, you must remember she's not human." Tommy reminded. "It sounds like a bastard of a thing to say, and it really is, but if that's the rationalization you've gotta use, then run with it."

"No, no. It's not that, I just didn't think I could pull it off, to be physically able to do it. I've prepared mentally as much as I can for what's gotta be done…just…"

"No confidence in your skills?" He suggested.

"Way to take the mystery out of everything, but yeah."

"That, is something you personally can't worry about. You got dumped into this job a month and a half ago, and have done just fine considering. Normally one of us'd have you tag along, kinda like an intern. That would've put you with either me, Shifty, or your Dad…what?" I must've made some sort of a face, or Tommy's mind-reading powers had grown stronger still.

"I guess it's finally starting to sink in; that he really is never coming back ever. We hadn't spoken for a year, he was always working anyway, always going off-planet."

"Let me say this much." Tommy was treading carefully, for his sake or mine, I could not tell. "Fathers can be both a source of pride and wisdom, and a source of maddening frustration. George and I are no exception, we've had some spats in the past that would probably make good footage for a COPS episode. Especially the student loans argument."

"But surely you've learned some life-lesson about paying your own way, or something?"

"No, not really. Just that I have to deal with things, move on and also that your Uncle is cheap."

"At least he's around."

"And there, I cannot help you." He admitted. Bolt, sensing the gloom and doom that threatened to sully the office, got up and placed his chin on my knee; staring up with those sad Labrador eyes.

"What's up Bolt?"

"Rrrrrooo…" He sighed, then there was a scratching and whining at the door. The handle turned down as Piddles: The Wonder Dog, let himself in. He joined Bolt, then tried to heave his overgrown butt into my lap. He still thinks he's a puppy.

"Piddles! No, Piddles, down! You can't sit here…gah! Gerroff me you lush!" Settled, he proudly sat panting, then decided to try and lick my face off.

"Looks like Piddles noticed you're having a bad morning." Tommy stated the obvious.

"Yep. Okay, okay, enough you fur-ball. I'm…" SCHLURRRP! "I'm fine…" SCHLURRRPP! "That's enough, that's enough! Down with you sir, down with you!" Piddles finally decided I was smiling enough and hopped down to sit with Bolt on the floor. "What did humans do to deserve dogs, I'll never know."

"Now you're thinking the really deep thoughts." Tommy, finished with his coffee, packed his lip, chewed and spat into the trashcan. In our shared bad habit, I did the same. P-thuh…P-tang! Hey, two points. "But, in all seriousness. I don't know what to say, or tell you. Your Dad, I don't understand why he was how he was, or why he did what he did. I don't know of any hidden, heartfelt letter explaining himself. You two didn't get along, and now he's gone…and that's about all we have to go on. There isn't a silver-bullet cliché line I can say that'll make it all better, or any sage advice to give. This'll be something you'll have to work through yourself."

"Your pep talks need work." Real inspiring huh?

"Hey, I love you enough to tell you the truth. The most hateful thing I could do is fill your ears with bullshit. So, with that dallop of happy-fuzzy's, feel better?"

"Eh, a little." I shrugged, still feeling like the best use of my day would be to crawl back into bed.

"Good, glad to hear it." Tommy checked the clock. "You make your report for last night yet? Don't put that off, or the Dogs will chase you down." He looked down at Bolt and Piddles: The Wonder Dog. "Well, it's almost eight. Naota'll be here soon and that woman too." He peeked out the window. "And right on cue, here they come."

"Ohhh…joy. What face shall I put on for them?" I hauled myself standing, rubbed my face, took off my hat to comb my hair with my fingers; gotta look somewhat put together.

"Your best one Jeff, the one that radiates bravery and confidence." He looked at me with a sad smile, probably wishing there was more he could do. "And, accent that with a winning grin, that'll really tie everything together."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I'm wearing mine right now. Hey." He put his hands on my shoulders, looking me over with narrowed eyes for any glaring signs of stress. "Whether you liked him or not, you, Jeff Carson, are born of good stock; the kind that has proven to be excellent agents. Don't be so hard on yourself, skill comes with time. Now, what's Overwatch's motto?"

"Ever vigilant, ever watchful, ever on guard and hidden in plain sight; We strive against every form of tyranny over the Hearts and Minds of Men."

"And when are we on call?"

"All day, every day."

"Every damn day, ah-men." He added his bit, finally dragging a chuckle and grin outta me. "Now go and be a pain in someone's ass, get in trouble, raise some hell!" With marching orders like that, who could do anything else but smile?

. . .

"Naota, Mizz Haruko! Mornin' to you both!" Rig greeted them, holding back Bolt and Piddles: The Wonder Dog, by their collars. "Bolt 'n' Piddles are happy to see you too!" They wagged their tails upon seeing Naota, but laid their ears back, tucked their tails and growled when they saw Haruko.

"RRRR...RRUUAAOOOF! RRR-AAAOOOOFF!" Piddles: The Wonder Dog made his displeasure with the alien woman perfectly clear.

"BRR-ARRKK!...RRRROO-RRRARR!" Bolt added for good measure.

"Bleagh!" Haruko stuck out her tongue, put her thumbs to her ears, crossed her eyes and made a retching sound that sent the dogs shuffling back into the office, snapping and snarling with fangs exposed. Once they were inside, Rig shut the office door, glared at Haruko, and spat tobacco.

"Th-puh. Y'know…Mizz Haruko, I told Naota this his first day, that our dogs are excellent judges of character…an' for someone who owes me a repaired runway, you're getting off to an awfully bad start."

"What? They growled, I growled back." She explained away, causing Naota to roll his eyes and hope that Rig didn't think less of him for his association with Haruko. "I was just communicating with them in their language."

"Whatever." Rig shook his head and looked at Naota with a face that demanded to know 'why haven't you strangled her yet?!' Or at least that's how he interpreted it.

"You'll have to excuse my, alien, acquaintance Rig." Naota got in this little dig, it wasn't often he was given an easy shot at her. "She's ignorant to customs of Earth; like tact, decency and manners."

"Noted." Rig dryly remarked and spat tobacco again. "Well, I h'ain't got anything for you two to do at the moment, it's been a long day already."

"That's good actually." Naota had slept on his thoughts from the evening and had some questions to ask. "Who all's here, I see Josh's truck, and Tommy's too."

"Mike and Johnny'll be here in a few, actually, here they come now." Two more trucks arrived, crunching to a halt in the final seconds of a tied race to be first to work. "Whattah yah wanna talk to us about?"

"I want to talk about how we can take the fight to Medical Mechanica." Rig seemed taken aback for a moment, Haruko as well. Both of them gave him a wide-eyed, surprised look as they processed his declaration.

"Now that…that right there…" Haruko said, already licking her chops in gleeful anticipation. "That's what I'm talkin' about."

. . .

Well, here was his moment. He had every member of G&R Fab and Cranes' undivided attention. Josh, Johnny and Mike sat on their computer chair and shop stools, each having a second morning smoke, the grey clouds wreathed around their heads. Rig and Tommy, surrounded by Bolt, Sam, Gus, and Piddles: The Wonder Dog, chewed and spat their tobacco from a low-boy trailer deck. George reclined in one of the many odd office chairs scattered around the shop, twisting a large ring on his right middle finger. Canti maintained his statuesque post, hard-wired to the Scorpion bot. Haruko, meanwhile, took a rolling creeper for her seat and lounged upon it while using the eraser end of a pencil to clean her ears. What an audience.

"O-okay. So…" He suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. It wasn't like him to make a show or deal of things, but this was an unavoidable subject. "So, you all know about Medical Mechanica, their robots, Haruko, and the portal in my head, so I won't bother going over that…are you guys really gonna take notes?" Johnny, Mike, Josh and Rig already had their notepads and pencils at the ready. "Actually, maybe that'll help. Anyway, long story short, I'm getting all kinds of tired with M-M's bullshit like that…" He pointed at the Scorpion bot behind everyone. "I don't like having this portal, robots trying to kill me, being stuck in some comic book day-dream or any of the side effects…" He eyeballed Haruko in his peripheral, but she was more preoccupied with reading the creeper's warning label to notice his comment. That or she really didn't care. "That come with it. I don't know what I can do about my situation, but I can't do nothing either. I mean, am I supposed to live the rest of my life walking on eggshells in permanent fear of, at any given moment, letting loose my own executioner? I want to, need to, fight back…but have no idea how. So if you have any ideas, now'd be a great time to share."

Somewhere in the farthest, deepest corner of the shop, a lone cricket chirped. Maybe he'd dropped too much on them at once? No, this declaration was nothing to revealing to revealing M-M the first time. His delivery could have used work, but seriously, not a single suggestion?

"Well…there's one thing you could try." Haruko threw in her two cents, her head lolling on her shoulders as her face filled with that smug smirk. "Have you considered surrendering? Failure's always an option."

"Okay, you're not allowed to make suggestions anymore." He pointed at her and she gave her best 'Hey, screw you, at least I contributed' look. "Anyone have any positive, helpful ideas?"

"Sorry bud, but none really come to mind." Johnny said. "I feel, we all do, for you, and you're a good kid who shouldn't have had this dropped on him. But…" He shrugged and lit up another cigarette. "…Fooo…there's not much the group of us can do besides try to keep you safe; play pure defense. I mean, M-M's, like you said, in some far off reaches of the galaxy. How are a bunch of goofy hicks like us s'posed to fight someone we can't even get to?"

"And don't ask me." Haruko broke Naota's ban on her speaking. "Even if the G.S.P.B. had a half-assed guess as to where M-M central is, they wouldn't tell us."

"Am I just screwed then?" He was starting to feel like a fool for even bringing the subject up. He'd woken up filled with fire and optimism; only to have it wither away in five minutes. "Is it hopeless?"

"Just because a solution hasn't freely presented itself, doesn't mean one doesn't exist." Mike advised, speaking for the first time in the discussion. "If solutions were easy to come by, we'd all be out of a job."

"Okay, there's that, I guess. Could we get the government involved or something?" He asked and was received with tired sighs. "What? That's out too? Isn't it like, their job to deal with this kind of stuff?"

"Naota, you're still fairly new to the U.S., so you don't know…" George explained. "But our, illustrious and enlightened government…" Naota didn't think a human's voice could sound that side of sarcastic; George's sarcasm was on a different level. "Can't even build a damn healthcare website that'll run longer than two hours without crashing. If you drop this bomb on them, and this's provided they listen to you, their brains will seize."

"And that's if you're lucky." Mike added. "If the military got wind that by bonking you on the head under the right conditions, you spawn massive, self-directed robots, they'd box you up and ship you off to Area 51 to farm your head until M-M comes in person to see where all their robots are disappearing off to. Not the path I'd want to take."

"Gotcha." So government back-up was a bust. On to the next question then, maybe he could make progress there. "Okay, next point. Four years ago, they attempted a takeover of Earth using one of their Irons. Have any of you heard of anything weird, like really weird, going on around the world, any Irons in the news?"

"No Irons…" Josh stroked his goatee in deep thought. "I'm always on the web, where news travels at light speed…however…"

"However…what?" George asked, but his tone suggested it was more of a warning than a question.

"However, there's been some weird going-ons at a few of the mines around here lately." Josh finished slowly, like he was seeking approval for each word.

"Miss Haruhara, if I may assume…" Tommy brought Haruko back into the discussion. Did anyone hear him say she wasn't allowed to talk anymore? "You are the resident expert on what Naota calls N.O. Could N.O. affect diagnostic or detection equipment in odd ways?"

"If it's not calibrated to account for it, isn't properly shielded or designed with N.O. in mind, absolutely." Haruko gave the most comprehensive, straightest and most honest answer he'd ever heard. In fact, he'd wished he had recorded it.

"That would explain it then…" Tommy mused in what Naota recognized as a clearly baited statement. Now, who would bite?

"Explains what?" Haruko cracked first.

"Roman's Mine of course." Tommy said, looking at Rig and George with that strange Carson gleam in his eyes…was there something Naota had missed? "I've heard tell over the CB that it's become the Mecca of the mysterious and macabre." He added in a deadened whisper, holding his audience on edge. "Disappearances, un-explainable and inexplicable accidents and events, surely worth a look. Especially since the rumors started when they sealed it off from public access."

"Wait, sealed-off from public access?" Rig turned to his cousin. "When did that happen?"

"Just this morning. Already the rumor mill's in full production."

"Why didn't I hear about that?"

"'Cause you didn't talk to the mailman, who'd heard from a Denny's waitress, who'd been texted by her B.F.F. Rose, who had been told by her boyfriend that his cousin's twice removed nephew's golf buddy, had been fired when the new management had taken over."

"Wait, wait…wait." Mike held up his hand, scanning his notebook. "Did you say 'thrice' removed cousin?"

"Tw-uh-ice removed." Tommy clarified.

"Gotcha. As you were."

"Guys, can we please stay on topic?" Naota tried to reel the G&R crew back into focus.

"I am on topic Cochise." Tommy turned back to him. "It seems to me that strange happenings follow you, wherever you are, and whether you will them or not. I know that the only way forward for you, Mister Nandaba, is to seek out strange events wherever they raise their heads, and face them front-forward. Does that make sense?"

"Nope." He actually grasped what Tommy was driving at, but wasn't overly thrilled about looking for trouble. 'Where did all my bravado go?' He asked himself. He couldn't lose his nerve now, especially in front of everyone. "Well, I kinda do. What's your suggestion, what're you getting at?"

"Start at Roman's Mine." Tommy said, taking Rig's notepad and scratched down the address, then ripped off the page and handed it to him. "That will set you upon your way."

"Thank you Tommy. Uh, Rig?"

"Yeeeessss?" Rig gave a Cheshire smile, obviously hoping to be invited along. Naota couldn't leave his friend behind; that would be too cruel. Naota didn't have much choice either, he still was waiting for his driver's license to arrive in the mail.

"Would you be willing to drive?"

"More than!" Rig hopped up from the trailer, spinning his keys around his thumb. "I'm ready to mount up when you are, we should go now while the day's young."

"Oh, a few last things before you rush off." It was George this time. "Be careful out there. We don't know these new owners like the old timers and regulars around here, so just go out, take a quick look around for now, then come straight back. Understand?" Naota nodded. "Good, I don't want to have to come and pick you up from the county jail. Lastly, Haruko. You will be going as well."

"I will?" She had been caught off guard, staring around the shop with a 'shoot me, I'm bored' look glazing her eyes. "Cool! So, when do we leave?"

"Now? Now's good for me…if that's okay." Naota asked, looking at George and Tommy for permission.

"Well, I was going to have you and Haruko start filling in that crater out back, but this seems a little more pressing." George thought it over. "You three are released from campus today, head on out whenever you are ready. You have the day, so be back before five at the latest…got that?"

"Yes George, and we'll keep you updated." Rig promised as they headed for his Bronco. "Wish us luck!"

"How far out is Roman's anyway? I haven't been there yet." Naota asked as he and Haruko helped Rig lift off the truck's bed cap and lay it on its blocks next to the carport. It was such a picturesque July day, taking the cap off and leaving the back of the truck's cab open to the breezes made perfect sense.

"It's about an hour north, the top end of the county on the far side of Black Moshannon Forest."

"So what's the deal with this Roman's anyway?" Haruko asked as she swung herself onto the rear bench seat that had replaced the twin jump seats, and sprawled out, boots hanging over the side of the truck.

"Well, interestin' story about that." Rig began as he started his Bronco and off they roared, to hopefully answer the questions Naota didn't even know to ask; those unsettling Unknown-Unknowns. Still, doing something sat better with him than just sitting.

. . .

"Tommy, what's the big idea?" George asked as the rest of the G&R crew watched Rig's truck turn onto the main road.

"Hmmm?" Tommy, preoccupied with his penknife and a pesky hangnail, half-heard.

"Putting the idea of running off to Roman's into their heads, going into who knows?"

"I'm advancing the plot…duh. Gotta give this train a little more coal to get it going. And besides…you're one to talk. You're the one that sent Haruko with them." Tommy pointed out. "I thought we had an updated kill or capture order? Or are we playing the long con on that one?"

"A very long con. We can't just jump her in the parking lot like she's a purse snatcher."

"We'd ALL get our asses kicked." Johnny said and everyone nodded in agreement. "Which makes me feel all the worse for Rig. I mean, will he really have to?"

"Yes, he does; and that's not up for debate." George said, hating himself for the order. "He's my nephew, my brother's son, and that means I cannot afford to be seen making exceptions."

"We can't even help him out?" Mike asked. "He's, I mean, I'm not much older, but he's just a kid."

"Can't believe I'm agreeing a little, but I started, unofficially, at his age." Tommy said. "That's some heavy shit to drop on him, with all he's already carrying. Man, I miss being sixteen…"

"Times were different when you were that age. Hell, I got started during the eighties at seventeen." Johnny recalled. "M-M was hardly on our radar, and we were more concerned with domestic threats."

"The Russians nuking us to Kingdom Come?" Josh asked, having only been a baby at the tail-end of the Cold War. "Really, that used to be our biggest problem?"

"The universe's gone mad." George sighed and all nodded solemnly in accord. "To answer your question, I figured a little extra 'muscle', with Rig and Naota, couldn't hurt. Haruko may be on our naughty list, but is still kinda-sorta on our side; and could prove herself to be useful, maybe even redeemable; well, maybe that's a stretch."

"There's just one problem that I've noticed." Mike caught everyone's attention. "Now, I know they bicker at each other, but considering their history, don't you think Naota and Haruko get along…y'know…a little too well? Like the fact they're willing to be in the same room?"

"What?" Tommy managed to only chuckle. "Just what are you insinuating, that they dig each other?"

"I dunno, just a, you know…just forget it." Mike threw up his hands in resignation.

"Well, I hope your intuition's wrong." Tommy said, tapping and twisting open his tobacco tin. "Because, if you're right, that'll be a problem that could fuck everything up."

"Wouldn't that be Situation Normal, All Fucked Up?" Josh, not fully grasping the gravity of what Tommy had said, laughed.

"No, it'd be much worse." George said. "Its things like that, that get people killed."

. . .

"Oh! Sir, you're early." The Aide, used to being the first to enter the Boardroom, jumped slightly seeing his boss. The Head was lounged deeply in his chair, a book open on his lap; with small marker tabs between pages and notes jotted in the margins.

"I had some spare time, and was a little impatient to see the footage from our Assassin unit." He noticed The Aide shifting his weight, unused to setting up the Boardroom with supervision. "Anyway, as you were. Just pretend I'm not here."

"Yes Sir, sorry Sir." The Aide busied himself booting up the computer for the projector and touchscreens around the table, and laying out the briefing packets he'd finalized that morning. As he worked around the table, he passed The Head, totally absorbed in his book.

"May I ask a question Sir?"

"I believe you just did, but I'll allow another."

"What book is that?" He nodded at the pages inscribed in a language foreign to him.

"It is called 'The Art of War', written by an Earthling named Sun Tzu; a fascinating work."

"Heh…" The Aide's eyes widened and his breath sucked in with a fearful gasp as he lit slip a derisive snort. "I'm terribly sorry, please forgive me!"

"No, no, it's alright. Are you surprised to find me reading something from Earth? I thought you would remember 'The Seven Pillars of Wisdom' I was working through?"

"Quite surprised. I mean, the scribbling of such a backwards and primitive species? Surely they do not compare to the works of The Temple? And where do you even get them?"

"Oh goodness no!" The Head dismissed the notion with a wave. "If you must know, I ask our Men in Black to bring me back these little souvenirs. My reasoning is because I find it insightful to look into the thoughts and musings of a species that's historically given us more than their fair share of headaches. Did you know…" The Head help up his book for The Aide to better see. "That this very book, is read by Earthen generals and leaders of state and industry, all across their globe, ally and sworn enemies alike?"

"I did not."

"Even their businessmen peruse it, for application to their cut-throat markets. If you want to better fight your enemy, you must understand him. You need to know his motivations, strategies, fears and beliefs; and there you find his weaknesses. Only listening to your own doctrine and dogma shackles you to an echo chamber of the same old ideas.

"If I didn't know it was you speaking those words, I would have thought them to be heresy." The Aide eyed the book like it was a coiled serpent; ready to strike and inject his mind with lies and evil thoughts.

"Come now, let's have none of this talk of heresy." The Head snapped his book shut. "There's no need, nor basis, for that kind of language…is there?"

"N-no Sir; my humblest apologies." The Aide stammered, unable to meet The Head's eyes.

"That's better. Now, the Council and Board will be here soon. Let's preview the notes so we are ready."

. . .

"Oh yer gonna love Roman's." It was indeed a picturesque day, improving my mood drastically. A forget-me-not blue sky, nary a cloud in it, the cap's off the truck to pull in that seventy-five and breezy weather, Jethro Tull's on the radio…can't beat it man, yah jest can't. "They're doing all kinds of work there. Strip, shaft mining like you've never seen, drilling for gas, but also open pit too."

"Open pit?" Naota'd been half following my rambling, half gazing wide-eyed out his window at the countryside flicking by, and half keeping an eye on the snoring Haruko sacked out on the backseat. She sure was a hard sleeper. "Is that the one where they just dig a deep hole, and keep going straight down?"

"Ha-ha-ha! Deep hole he says…oh, wait 'till you see. Take whatever you're thinking, cube it, double that, then add whatever a 'stupid' amount would be…annnd, that'll get you in the ball park."

"Really? That's one hell of a deep hole. Big enough to hold her ego?" He nodded back at Haruko.

"Ehh…lemme rephrase."

"So not that big, got it."

"Now you're catching on." Roman's was a good hour's drive north, but we finally arrived, only to find an Un-Welcome sign. "Closed to public…Employees of Mecha Mining only…Use of lethal force is authorized. What in the actual hell?" I was truly surprised, I hadn't expected this hostile of a reception; and we weren't even at the front gate. This was just a side-access road, a dirt path gouged through the trees by a bulldozer.

"Sooo…now what?" Naota asked, re-reading the obviously new sign bolted over the old one. And, Mecha Mining? Really? Really? Reallllllly subtle there Medical Mechanica. Pro tip: If you're gonna open a front organization, DO NOT put your initials in the name! That would've been like great-grandad going with Osceola Welding, O.W. for Overwatch. Oh well, makes our job that much easier.

"They're obviously bluffing Nao'." Haruko'd woken up and read the sign herself. "C'mon, let's go get our look!" She kicked the back of our seats. "Or are both of you boys just scared?"

"Hey, what's some fun without the risk of bodily harm?" Naota said, giving me permission to roll forward. We ignored the sign and headed on up the hill. Roman's sits in a wide, winding valley, so you have to go uphill, then downhill to get in. There are several access roads, which is typical, this was one of the smaller ones. I was hoping, and so far it was, it would be one of the lesser guarded ones. The whole drive had been an exercise in keeping calm and appearing all was normal. Tommy and George had essentially given us permission to go up to the lion's den and to have a look around for nuthin' in per-tic-u-lar when we got there. I didn't know the circumstances of my Dad's passing, but it very well could've been doing something exactly this dangerous; and stupid now that I reflect on it. Then again, sending three…well, two teens and whatever Haruko would be, should arouse less suspicion than a truck full of full grown men. Yep…that's us, three dumb, stupid kids out for a summer cruise, we took a wrong turn…yep. That's totally what we're gonna have to run with, 'cause I can't think of anything else believable. Oh Christ, this's really happening. God, Allah, Buddah, Shiva, Spaghetti Monster, if any of you are paying attention…please don't let this shit go sideways. Thank you, and ah-men.

. . .

'It's painful to even watch.' One of the Security Councilmen thought as they viewed the Scorpion-Bot's last, static-filled moments though its own cameras. They winced at every stab, groaned at every destroyed limb and howled when Haruko used a piece of steel rebar to savage its innards.

"Let it be over soon…let it be over soon…" The Director of the Assassination Division had turned translucent. Life seemed to be draining from him, out through his feet into a shameful puddle of embarrassment, failure and fear. The finals blows came, drawing anguished moans from the audience, and then the remaining battery gave an eye a few last moments of recording power. Three figures were seen arguing in the parking lot, but with no audio, their words were lost. A truck with a crane built into it pulled up, a group dismounted from its deck…then the signal was lost.

"…Sir. I can explain." The Assassin Director began, attempting to hack through the oppressive layers of silence smothering the room.

"That will not be necessary." The Head didn't look up from his touchscreen, using his stylus to jot down the last of his notes. "You, and your staff, are dismissed."

"I beg your pardon?!" Indignation and outrage replaced tepidness, egged on by the Assassination Director's pride. "You can't possibly expect to just, wave me and my department aside…"

"Are your ears as defective as your robots?" A vein ticked on The Head's bare scalp, a dire warning to all that didn't heed it. "I said, you are DISMISSED. Off with you!" Disgraced, the Assassination Director stormed out with his aides in tow. No one uttered a single sound, holding their breath while waiting for The Head to speak.

"Well, that was unfortunate." He dryly remarked. "Forgive me gentlemen, I did not intend to act so short in your presence. Now, this provides an excellent transition to our next set of options. Aide, if you could bring those slides up? Thank you. Now gentlemen, I would like to hear your thoughts…"

. . .

"Oh…now that can't good." Rig stopped just shy of a hill's crest and sat high in his seat. "Take a look."

"Nope. That isn't good at all." Naota leaned out his window, following the road half a mile forward through the forest. Almost obscured by the trees and the prolific rhododendron bushes, was a roadblock. Two jet black SUV's with smoked out windows barricaded the road. Patrolling around them were eight men. Each was swathed in black military fatigues, laden with armor plates on their shins, knees, thighs, chest, back, arms and shoulders. A smooth, form fitted helmet capped their heads, while their faces were hidden by respirators, balaclavas and black mirrored goggles. The equipment hanging from their vests and belts was similar to Rig's 3-Gun outfit, but much newer and their rifles were different. Instead of AK-47's, they toted FN SCAR-H rifles. Even from a distance, Naota felt a hollowness of fear open up in his stomach. These weren't rent-a-cops, hired guards or even private security contractors, and weren't there to scare off trespassers; not with the equipment they carried. These were soldiers.

"Hey, are they still bluffing?" He asked, looking back at Haruko. She was standing, elbows resting on the cab's roof while she borrowed Rig's binoculars.

"Meh. I've seen worse. They're just some weekend warriors with waaay too much tacti-cool crap and too little common sense." She scoffed, handing Rig his binoculars back.

"Those're FN SCAR Heavy models…" Rig peered through his binos. "They're carrying Five-Seven pistols too, those're really good at piercing soft body armor, and emptying your wallet. An' their get-up's not cheap either…Haruko's right on the tacti-cool." He appraised the soldier's equipment, then added: "Man, I wish I had money to buy half that stuff…"

"So what now what, Naota?" Haruko leaned down to look into the cab. "Gonna puss out and slink back home?"

"No! Don't be stupid." He scoffed and sounded a great deal more carefree than he felt. He was actually thinking they should've cut their losses at the Un-welcome sign and called it a day. But, he'd committed to this venture, and it was time to follow through. Nervous as he was, he was even more anxious at the chance for some semblance of an answer to his problems. He'd just have to trust Rig and Haruko, there was a terrifying thought, if something went wrong. 'And what's the worst that could…no, wait, wait…don't think that. You'll jinx yourself. Think optimistically.'

"Yo, Nao', daylight's burnin' man." Rig jarred him out of his thoughts. "We pressin' on or not?"

"Yeah, I mean, yes. Yes, we're pressing on."

"Okie-dokie." Rig began backing the Bronco up, down the hill.

"Uhm, the mine's that way…"

"I know." Rig pulled off between two trees and after pulling into a fold in the hillside, parked them fifty yards off the road; obscuring the truck behind a wall of mountain laurel. "But the only way we'd run that block's with a tank. We're gonna be on foot from here. Don't worry none, I've hunted out here a few times and know a way in. Follow me."

Through the wood they trekked, following and taking great care to step in Rig's boot prints. This was the farthest and, according to Rig, one of the oldest sections of Black Moshannon Forest. The canopy above filtered out the sun, shading the floor in a soft gloom. Only whispers of breeze managed to sift down, making the air feel close and every twig crack echoed like a rifle shot. Rig had spoken fondly and often of Black Moshannon and its trees so massive the three of them, hand-in-hand, wouldn't be able to encircle one. He's said he reveled in the stillness, peace and serenity they offered; where Nature welcomed him in its quiet embrace and kept the World at bay.

Naota didn't feel the same sentiments. A city dweller for most of his life, the woods still held a lingering sense of unease and hostility for him. It felt too quiet, every rustle rending the delicate hush. The air pressed in on him, its heaviness leaning on his shoulders. All the smells of rotting wood, leaves and other dead things was especially pungent to his unaccustomed nose, filling it with an odor of decay. When Rig described an escape to a paradise a world away, Naota likened it to trespassing, sneaking into an old library's forbidden section; intruding into a house where the house itself knew they weren't supposed to be there. Or…perhaps it was the paramilitary gunmen two hundred yards on his left…he wasn't completely sure.

. . .

Haruko suddenly remembered that she hated forests, especially when they were as steeped in time and old memories as this one. It reminded her too much of home.

. . .

"Oof!" Naota had lost himself in the greens of rhododendrons, and walked straight into Rig's back. "What the…"

"Hush." Rig ordered in so fierce a whisper that even Haruko stopped. "Do. Not. Move." They had been climbing a long, increasingly steep hill, following a dried creek cut into the boulders and forest floor. Here it had narrowed considerably, only just ten feet across and as many deep; exposed tree roots on either side jutted out from the dirt. Rig inched forward, cautiously rolling his feet from heel to toe at each step. Looking down, he crouched and slid his left hand's fingers under some invisible object.

"What is it?" Naota asked, speaking so low he almost coughed.

"Tripwire." Rig took out his pocketknife and cut the line. "Almost didn' see it, damn nearsightedness. Knew I should've worn my glasses today…"

"What's it hooked to?" Haruko looked left and right on the ground. "I don't see anything…unless…of course." She looked up, along the bank of dirt above their heads.

"Yep, signal flare. See it?" Rig pointed for Naota. Secured to a tree's trunk, just above their peripheral, was a rocket type flare. This kind would fire with an explosive and deafening bang, soar above the trees, and then burst in a firework style display. "This crik's a natural choke point. They really don't want people comin' up here…"

"Which means they have something to hide." Haruko said, and Naota had to admit she was probably right.

"C'mon Rig, lead on." Rig took point again, Naota in the middle, and Haruko pulling security at the rear. Without incident they reached the hill's summit. A few yards ahead, it fell quickly away into the end of an abandoned strip mine; the edge of Roman's Mining Proper. They lay and burrowed into the tall grass growing along the ridge, to mask their silhouettes, and crawled the remaining distance to the cliff's edge. Feeling securely hidden in the foliage, they began taking in what was lain before them.

"See anything interesting yet?" Rig asked as Naota scanned with the binoculars. So far, everything seemed in order; compared to other mines he had visited. There were the usual main office buildings, smaller mobile offices at each dig site, worker barracks and mess halls, service buildings, supply depots, motor pools, maintenance bays, a small bustling city gouged and scraped into the rock; all normal. A few buildings, mixed in with the others, seemed brand new. Black uniformed soldiers guarded their entrances, and were the only ones going in or out of them. Also new were a series of steel frame towers, some with what appeared to be spotlights, dotting the complex. Meanwhile, trucks, loaders, bulldozers and equipment of all the usual kinds trundled along in boringly routine patterns. From this point, he could see, he was guessing, only a third of the total mine. The unseen portion was obscured by a bend in the valley and trees, mountains of coal and fill dirt. Just past those obstructions rose a column of billowing steam, a steady thick cloud emanating from the earth. Having never seen that phenomenon at any other mine, he wanted a better look at its source.

"Hey Rig, think we can follow this ridge, to the right, and get a look at where that steam's coming from?"

"Reckon so." Rig, opening and closing his eyes, squinting to overcome his nearsightedness, took back his binoculars. "Lemme look…remind me to ask for a new pair of eyes come Christmas…okay. It looks clear, I don't see any sniper scopes glinting." He, Naota hoped, joked. "Let's back up and march on." They faded back into the woods, then proceeded along the ridgeline. Up, down and around the boulders and rocky outcroppings they slunk, Haruko continuously looking back over her shoulder.

"See anything back there?" He asked as she stopped again, standing on a fallen tree for a better view.

"No…but I hear something…" Her ears visibly pricked up, twitching as they strained to capture any hint of sound. As they waited, even Naota began to hear what Haruko had probably heard for minutes: a revving and gunning pair of motors, rapidly growing closer…and closer…

"Hide!" Haruko hissed, leaping off the tree and shoving him towards Rig. "Find us a hole!"

"Down here!" Rig had found a small den dug by some animal, underneath a shale ledge. Rig slipped inside, then pulled Naota's feet down while Haruko shoved his shoulders, then followed him down. Jammed together, hardly daring to breathe, they watched through the foot high gap between dirt and rock. The first dirt bike zipped by, ridden by a black uniformed soldier; his rifle slung across his back. The second bike mounted the very rock they were using as cover, tires crunching loose shards of shale while the motor rattled and popped a rough idle. Over the engine, a radio crackled, prompting the rider to take off again, his motor fading away down the mountain.

"Close call." Haruko said, peeking out and watching the soldier as his disappeared into the trees. "They must be a roving patrol, they weren't actively looking for us."

"Well ain't that a relief?" Rig wriggled out of the den, then stepped up onto the boulder, craning his neck for a last look at the pair of riders. "Naota, whatever you wanna see, we'd better get there quickly. The longer we're here, the more likely those two, or their buddies, will corner us for a chat."

"Alright, I'll take lead then." Naota led the way, keeping an eye out for tripwires, and his ears for dirt bikes. Repositioned in the grasses of their new overlook, Naota accepted Rig's binoculars. The steam still roiled as thick as ever, flooding out of several massive openings in the mine. Scores of workers scurried about, bringing a ceaseless stream of materials down earthen ramps, disappearing into the mist. He strained his eyes but couldn't make out any source of the steam. This little foray was beginning to look like a bust, especially with the presence of the soldiers and random patrols. He was ready to hand Rig back his binoculars when Luck made its move. A heavy breeze kicked up and the sun flared as a cloud was pushed aside. The steam blew off, revealing the caverns hollowed out below the mine's surface, and what lay hidden within. It was only partially built, a half-way done skeleton frame, and over two miles away. But, Naota recognized it instantly; the flood of ice flashing through his veins, from head to toe and through his heart, confirmed it. In a remote, boondock Pennsylvanian coal mine, just an hour north of his house, a Medical Mechanica Iron was being built.

. . .

"I heartily agree." One of the Board Members said, swinging his glasses by an earhook. "We cannot continue wastefully throwing perfectly good Assassin Units at this Nandaba boy. It's a great shame, that cannot be disputed, that the robots have not succeeded despite the A-D's most faithful efforts."

"Which is why…" A senior Security Advisor, with his red and black, immaculately pressed, crisply starched uniform decked with medals and campaign ribbons, inserted himself into the discussion. "I have been advocating for the Council to approve the Marines to handle this affair. The operation would take all of two hours, and this whole mess will be as done in as Nandaba would be."

"May there come a day, the Priests willing…" Another Board member broke in, raising his left hand above his head with his palm facing the ceiling. "When I will no longer be forced to entertain the commando, fantasies of our local Jackboot Union! Let the Marines…handle it? Oh yes, let's apply the same subtlety and finesse of a tornado!"

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Well, for starters, we still have to locate Nandaba." The Case Officer, assigned to oversee the investigation into Naota, outlined. "And I fail to see how your Marines would manage that without alerting even the least mentally active Earthling as to what they were up to. But, if it's a real war you want, then by all means! Turn your men loose, and undo every scrap of progress we have made on Earth…"

"It is gutless suits like you, too squeamish and wrapped in your control-freak fetishes that…" The Marine Commander now spoke, his chest ballooned as he filled with raging hot air, ready to unload on this pitiful pencil-pusher.

"Gentlemen!" The Marine Commander made a slight whistle as he deflated at The Head's verbal thunderclap. "That, will be quite enough. From everyone. I understand everyone is frustrated in their own ways. But this is what happens when we are not adequately challenged on a regular basis. We become complacent such that minor inconveniences seem like end-all crises. Does that assessment sound like a fair one?" Heads around the table humbly nodded. Victims of their successes, the movers and shakers of Medical Mechanica had become settled in their routines as of late.

"Now, let's start over and review. Our Men in the field, on the scene so to speak, have been keeping us updated, and are reporting smooth progress. Construction is moving right along with our acquired foothold and the rich resources contained within, and our timeline is still holding. We accounted for little hiccups when our schedule was drawn up, you all remember." The Head gestured at the screen on the wall, showing the last flickering image of the Scorpion's camera. "Even the reappearance of Haruko Haruhara, accounted for. All that remains, is, for us…to…" The Head trailed off, his eyes narrowing to focus on something off to the side of the screen. "Stay the…huh."

"Sir?" The Aide tried to raise his boss's attention. "Sir, is something wrong?"

"Aide…b…back the video up please." The Head watched, along with a clueless and breath-holding Boardroom. "Alright, play…and…stop! Hold it!" He walked up to the screen, focusing on a white truck in the background. "Os…Oohsss…Auh-see…" He struggled to pronounce the words painted on the truck's door. "Oh-see-oh-lah…Mmmmilllsss. Oh-see, Oss-ee-oh-lah? O-see-oh-lah?"

"Is that what those symbols mean?" One of the Board members brought up a personalized clip of the video on his touchscreen. "What language is that? I can't make heads nor tails of it." His neighbor looked as well and shrugged.

"It's called English, on of Earth's many languages." The Head explained, starting on the next line of text. "Puh…Pennnn…sss…sil…vain-ia. Oh-see-oh-lah Mills, Penn-sil-vain-ia…hmmm…"

"Did you know he could read English?" One of the Security Councilmen whispered to his neighbor.

"I didn't even know it existed." Was whispered back.

"The state our operation is based in, is named…Pennsylvania, correct?" The Head asked, running a hand over his bald scalp while he tried to remember.

"It is." The Aide confirmed. "Shall I bring up the map?" The Head nodded and a satellite photograph of Pennsylvania splashed across the screen. An overlay of Roman's Mine and surrounding objectives dropped onto the map.

"Do we have a map with all the cities in this state labeled?"

"One moment…" The Aide hurriedly sifted through his files. "One moment…"

"Do, do we not have any maps with cities marked on them?" A Security Councilman asked with indignant disbelief.

"We do sir, just a moment please." A flustered Aide continued to search.

"We do have a labeled map…don't we?" The Head turned, looking at his assistant.

"Ah! Yes, here we are!" In the nick of time, he located the file, buried three subfolders deep. Cities, their borders and demographic information popped up, crowding the screen.

"Okay…okay…" The Head continued to graze his fingers across his scalp, a clouded memory nagging at him. "Aide, could you pass me your screen?" The Aide detached his screen from its docking station on the table and brought it over. The Head sifted the map to the side, brought up the Scorpion's video, and then shunted it to the side as well. Then he opened the Industrial's video footage.

"Sir, I mean no disrespect…" The Operation's Officer began. "But where are you going with this?"

"Found you." The Head paused the Industrial's video. "Now…" He equally spread all three displays across the screen. "What do all of these have in common?" The room was silent as the Board members, Security Councilmen and various Officers searched for similarities. Finding none, they all blankly stared at The Head for answers.

"No one? No one…at all? Really? Very well…" The Head took a laser pointer from his jacket. "First, the Industrial's film. This truck in the background, notice its door. The symbols upon it read: G&R Fabrication and Cranes, Osceola Mills P.A. And, this truck, in the Scorpion video, is the very same! And finally, this Osceola Mills…" He swung the laser's point to the map. "Is just south of our operation!"

"S-sir, I can explain…" The Case Officer knew he had best come up with an excuse, a good one, and quickly. He was realizing his team's efforts had been relegated null in a matter of minutes, and that he was in serious trouble.

"Your failure will be addressed later." The Head held up a hand to silence the Case Officer, then pointed to The Aide. "The important thing is we know, roughly, where Naota could be. Have a Courier brought up." He handed The Aide his touchscreen back.

"I will put in a request." The Aide brought up the menu as the rest of the room dissolved into separate discussions of the newest revelation.

"No, use the direct line." The Head said, already penning his message.

"You…want the Courier, now, Sir?" The Aide glanced around at all the others present. Summoning a Courier to a packed Boardroom was not a violation of any rule, but simply just wasn't done. There were too many potential security risks, even though all gathered were the most fiercely loyal members of Medical Mechanica.

"No, I want one five minutes ago." The Head snapped, forcing his hand to slow and produce text legible enough for the computer in the Intelligence Office to read. "Now! Yes, dammit, NOW!"

. . .

"Naota…hello? Say something…" I had looked over to see a pair of ghosts, vaguely Naota and Haruko shaped. Their eyesight, better than mine, had picked up something beyond my vision, and had rendered them dumb. "C'mon man, you look like you've died inside." He kept his eyes glued to the binos, so I looked over to Haruko for a second opinion. She wasn't sayin' much neither, turned the far side of pale. Most telling on her was the look of pure hate she was sporting. Four years running from Medical Mechanica is plenty of time to cultivate a sizeable grudge.

""Here…have a look." Naota handed over my binos, still staring forward. Okay, lemme see what all the fuss's 'bout…adjust some focus…oh. OOOoooohhhhhh…well. That's…excuse me, I need a moment.

. . .

And we're back, we apologize for those technical difficulties just a moment ago, but I had to go and check to make sure I hadn't shit myself. Up 'till that morning, everything'd been, with the obvious exceptions of Mr. Dahl and Mr. Roman, along the lines of a hypothetical or mental exercise. Now, it was all too real. Obscured by steam and hidden from our satellites by the cavern above it, was the beginnings of a Medical Mechanica Iron. And, even worse, I know right, there was no telling how much of the mine they'd hollowed out. The whole damn mountain could've been honeycombed for all I knew. On a side note, 'fore I forget…God, Allah, Buddha, Shiva, even you Flyin' Spaghetti Monster. We talked about this guys. I specifically stated no Medical Mechanica, no Irons, no Men in Black, no nothin', at the very least not on my planet. Yet, here we are. Get it together.

"One of you two mind sayin' something?!" I gave Naota a shove in the ribs. "Hey!"

"Ow!" That was enough to get him back this side of reality. "Rig, you, you ah, remember that Medical Mechanica I told you about?"

"Rings a bell."

"Well, that's what looks a helluva lot like one of their Irons. Annnnnnd…that's all I got."

"Oookay. Mizz Haruko, care to add anything?"

"No, not really." She'd picked up the binos, scanning the entire facility, probably trying to memorize every detail she could. Actually, I know she was, because I was too. From our hill, there were four visibly guarded entrances, at least fifty soldiers in my immediate vision (which ain't sayin' much) two brick buildings that looked like small blockhouses, a perimeter of watch towers…neat little set-up. This was only the first dig site of a dozen or so on Roman's property. Uh-huh. Yeah, let that sink in for a moment.

"Hmmm…whoooo…are you?" Haruko'd spotted something, rather, someone, of interest. "And where are you going?"

"Whatcha got? Lemme see?" She passed over the binos. "What am I looking for?"

"About a mile out to our eleven o'clock. Blue and white car with a really stupid looking spoiler on the back. They painted flames around the wheel-wells if that helps…the driver must be the biggest douche…" Hold up. Blue and white car. Stupid-ass six foot wide spoiler on a five foot wide car. Wheel flames. No…it couldn't be. "He's stopping at a guard house." Haruko still had eyes on even without binos. I picked out the white an' blue 2006 Honda Civic out of the brown, black and grey dirt and rocks. It had obviously made it through the security of the first gate, and now was being ushered into the garage of sorts, next to the blockhouse. The garage door closed behind the car, hiding it and its driver from view. Damn, no visual; but then again, how many '06 Honda Civics bomb 'round my neck of the woods? Not a whole lot.

"I know that car." Come along with me, let's see where this train of thought takes us.

"You do?" Naota asked, staring at the guardhouse like he was hoping to spontaneously develop x-ray vision. "Whose is it?"

"Dude named Craig Kauffman, lives up on the Hill, east Philipsburg."

"That's the neighborhood by the high school right?"

"That's the spot, his favorite hunting ground, from what I've heard."

"What's that mean? You know what, not important. Do you think he know what that is?" He nodded at the Iron, shrouded in steam again.

"Well, if he doesn't, he's gonna." Haruko remarked as the Civic emerged from the garage, then followed a truck down into the Earth, and then the Craig-mobile was gone. "Wait a minute, how long have we been here?"

"'Bout…" I checked my watch and realized to my horror we'd been in the same spot for a good twenty minutes. It was well past time to leave. "Twenty minutes."

"We need to leave, now." Even though she'd been disavowed, First Class Space Patrol Officer Haruko had not forgotten any of her training. I packed up my binos and we stood up in the grass to leave. As we did, I heard two sounds. The first was that pair of dirt bikes, rapidly closing on our position. The second was a thunderous buzzing of a zzzZZZWWWHHOOOOOFFFF!, followed closely by the CRACK! of a sniper's rifle firing. That's right sports fans, we'd just been shot at; the bullet passing first faster than the speed of sound, and the rifle's report catching up a second later. Well, that was a new experience, never'd been actually shot at before, and holy shit-balls it's terrifying! If you have weak cardio, have a sniper put a round above your head! THAT'LL git your heart pumpin'! It was now officially past time to go.

Haruko and I seized Naota, one to each arm, good thing he was on the skinnier side, and whisked him and our butts back down the mountain. We had gotten out of the sniper's sights, I hoped, but his buddies were fast approaching. ZZZ-WHIP!...SMACK!...FFWWWIIIPP!...BANG! BANG! BANG! And there they were, right on cue. I risked a look back, seeing two soldiers dismounted from their bikes and slowly edging their way down the hill, firing their rifles at the same time. I yelled to Haruko and Naota that if we got separated, to head for the truck or the road, whichever was closest. I was personally hoping for the truck outright, just repeating that over and over in my head. As long as we can get to the truck…just let me get Naota to the truck…

. . .

Things certainly had not gone according to plan, to understate. Naota had expected an uneventful hike through the forest, a quick look at Roman's Mine, snap a few pictures on their phones, and be back to the shop by lunchtime. Yes, a quaint and unremarkable start to his Wednesday. Instead, he was being half-pulled, half-dragged, half-carried like a sack of potatoes, down a rocky mountain, getting yanked from boulder to boulder as Rig and Haruko leaped erratically to provide a poor trio of targets to the soldiers behind them. Oh, did he forget to mention the soldiers, and the gunfire?!" At Rig's 3-Gun course, he'd always worn earmuffs or plugs, so the unobstructed reports of the rifles rang deafeningly in his ears; the only thing he could hear was a dull ringing. A round even grazed past his ear, rendering that side of his head temporarily deaf. Despite the flying lead, they were making good progress, the shots getting further away and less frequent. Then they had a bad landing.

Leaping from easily ten feet, they landed hard, then the solidity under their feet gave way. The boulder tipped forward, dumping them another ten feet to the forest floor. Haruko went left, sliding down the hill on her backside and popping up a few feet later as if she'd planned it. Naota and Rig didn't fare as well, tumbling fifty more feet end over end before painfully coming to an instant stop against a tree.

"Rig?! Haruko?!" Scattered by their fall and incoming rounds, the others were nowhere in sight. The roar of a pack of dirt bikes sounded the arrival of reinforcements, the first two soldiers had called for their friends. He rolled to his feet and took off, following the paths of least resistance to put as much distance behind him as possible. Never in his life had he been so terrified, even with the events of four years ago factored in. His heart had moved from his chest to begin chirping madly in his throat, he couldn't seem to get enough air, his lungs painfully stretched against his ribs; all while the world flashed by in a flurry of green.

Down to his left, a narrow fissure in the ground appeared in the form of a two foot wide crack. He slipped into the hole, landing in the small stream at the bottom. Forcing his breath to slow, he squatted in the soggy darkness, blinking up at the narrow strip of light. A black shadow stopped halfway across the gap, wafting gasoline fumes from its dirt bike's exhaust. The soldier's armor vest straps and uniform creaked as he rotated in his seat, breathing deep rasps through his respirator. A burst of gunfire drew his attention and he shifted into gear and roared away. Naota slowly clawed his way up the fissure's wall, inching his head above ground by degrees. A quick look around, he thought he resembled a groundhog peering out of its burrow, showed only the fading soldier's back. His black uniform disappeared, the sound of his engine headed towards another series of shots; off in the direction Haruko had disappeared.

"Sounds like she's giving them a hard time." He hauled himself out of the fissure, struck by how suddenly quiet everything had gotten again, after the chaos of just moments ago. His heart and breathing had calmed, but his blood still sang in his ringing ears. Seeing no sign of soldiers, Rig nor Haruko, he figured the best thing to do was make his way back to the truck; quietly. Every step forward now sounded like a stomp, every stick cracking a rifle shot. Rig's Bronco couldn't be too far, right? After a tense walk, flinching at every crackling leaf, he caught a sliver of orange between the trees. He crept forward, holding at the edge of the clearing Rig had parked in. And, sure's shit…there was a soldier guarding it, peering through the driver's side door. Of freaking course. He squatted on his heels, wondering what to do and reviewing his options. While he pondered, an SUV rumbled by on the main road, headed towards the mine and the far off blaring of an alarm. If that alarm was any harbinger, the hills would soon be swarming with trigger-happy soldiers.

'Where the hell're Rig and Haruko?!' He looked around the opposite sides of the clearing and saw no familiar figures. 'And Rig would have taken the keys with him…I hope he didn't drop them.' Cr-ack. A stick snapped behind him.

"Don't scare me like that!" He hissed as Rig crouched next to him, his hat precariously perched on his head, and his jeans coated in mud. "What happened to you? Seen Haruko anywhere?"

"I fell into a sinkhole, and no, I haven't." Rig admitted, watching the solider in front of them. "Is he the only one?"

"As far as I can tell. Should we wait for Haruko…or is that a good idea…bad idea?"

"Well, they're probably gonna start circling back here, since they haven't found you an' me…" Bah-bah-bah-boooommm…a far off SCAR fired a short burst, followed by a piercing scream that turned their stomachs in on themselves. Whatever was happening in that end of the woods was far from decent and humane. "An' Haruko's giving them heartburn, they'll assume we're headed for the truck. We'll look for her on the road."

"That'll have to work, I guess…" He trailed off, unsure how to get past the solider. He was shorter in stature, perhaps only five foot, five inches at best. Now that Naota got a good look, he realized the armor plates made the soldier look a lot stronger than he actually was; the uniform certainly was designed to appear intimidating. (And boy, did it work!) But that didn't mean the soldier couldn't still kill them both with his bare hands; he certainly looked capable of just that. Whatever he and Rig were going to do, it'd take both of them to pull it off, and it'd have to be done quickly and quietly.

"Okay, here's what I'm thinkin'." Rig had an idea, and Naota was all still ringing ears. "We'll take him together. You'll tackle him at his knees, and keep his legs pinned so he can't stand up on us. I'll go for his head."

"You're not going to kill him are you?" Even with being shot at and chased down the mountain, he still balked at the idea of his helping snuff out a life.

"Just gonna put him to sleep." Rig assured. "Ready?"

"No. Are you sure we have to do this?"

"Do yah wanna wait 'round for his buddies to show up when they come to tow my truck? I'm sure if we'd explain it right, they'd let us skip right on out of here…or shoot us. Fifty-fifty."

"Fair enough." Now watching the area where the last gunfire had come from, the soldier's back was to them. They left the cover of the trees and approached as quickly as they dared. Ten feet they had closed to, close enough to hear the soldier breathing through his respirator, the jingle of his single-point sling against his rifle, the creak of his pistol's holster strapped to his leg. Rig held up three fingers, put one down, then two, then they attacked. Naota dove straight for the back of the soldier's knees, table-topping him so that he landed flat on his back with a heavy Ooph! Rig meanwhile snaked his arms around the soldier's neck, snapped them together, and then kicked both his feet off the ground to use his weight to help Naota slam their target into the dirt even harder. With his right arm cradling the soldier's neck at his elbow, and using his left to push the soldier's head forward, Rig was quickly cutting off the supply of air of the soldier's lungs. It was an agonizing process. All Naota could do was keep his arms wrapped around those lurching, wriggling legs, trying to throw him off and gain some traction to stand up. Naota rolled so he lay atop the soldier's legs, using his weight to better pin them down. As he did, the struggles lessened; Rig was succeeding in his bid to cut blood off to the soldier's brain. The convulsions grew smaller and smaller until the soldier went limp, passed out for want of blood and air. They hurriedly distanced themselves from the unconscious figure, forgoing the doors and just climbing in through the open back of the cab. Rig started up and stood on the gas, showering the soldier with dirt as they left him behind. The road was mercifully clear and only when they had gone half a mile down the paved road did Rig slam on the brakes.

"Oh fuck…oh fuck…oh fuck…" Rig panted, leaning his head on the steering wheel. "Did we really just do that, did that really just happen?!"

"Shit Rig, I think it did; or this's a really bad dream." Naota had balled his hands into fists, clenching his jeans to keep his hands, fingers and body from quaking. Adrenaline surged through him, rattling him with jitters while the reality of what had just transpired set in. Medical Mechanica was not only back on Earth, but practically in his backyard, its soldiers had opened fire on them with no warning, he'd just help strangle someone to unconsciousness, and Haruko was still missing in action.

"Hey boys, miss me?!"

"GAAHHH!" Both of them jumped, whacking their heads on the roof as Haruko swung herself into the bed and then plopped down on the backseat. She stretched out into a lazy lounge, shaking tousled hair from her face; a lush cat on its pillow. "What's with you two? You both look like death; stressed much?" She wiped her hand across her mouth and chin, trying to rub off a dried black liquid; it had even gotten into her mouth and stained her teeth, especially her front and canines.

"We just got shot at!" Naota failed to keep his voice down. "We nearly died, M-M's here, and I helped knock a guy out! So excuse me if I seem a little stressed! And is that blood?!"

"What he said!" Rig voiced his support while nervously glancing in the mirrors every other second and put the Bronco in gear. "What happened to you? We all got split up when that boulder shifted under us; and yeah, is that blood?"

"We heard a lot of shots over where you went." Naota turned around in his seat, watching Haruko lick specks of the black marks off her teeth. "You didn't get hurt or anything? How'd you get away?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know…" She gave a cavernous yawn, the cat was showing off its fangs, and continued picking at her teeth. "I made things a little too personal for them, and they decided it would be best to leave me alone."

"You…you BIT one of them?!"

"Hardly! It was just a little nibble…" She half-smiled, staring at him with half lidded eyes, licking her chops like she was hungry enough for a Naota-sized snack after (probably) eating an M-M, soldier. "And I know a few other tricks too. Maybe I'll teach you some of them when we get home…"

"I'll pass, no thank you!" He turned back around, glancing at the speedometer as he did. "Whoa! Rig, dude, slow down! Take it easy!" Rig, his left knuckles white on the wheel, and his right hand grasping the shifting lever in a death grip, was pushing his Bronco towards the north side of eighty miles an hour. "Slow down, you're gonna get us pulled over or wrecked!"

"Heh?! What? Oh shit!" Rig took his foot off the gas, bringing them back to fifty five. "Wheewww…thanks man."

"Are you okay?" Rig did not look okay. His pupils had dilated, his breathing was shaky and quick, face drained of color and his hands had a noticeable tremor. Naota knew he looked exactly the same, if not worse, but Rig was driving, so he had to be together.

"Yeah, yeah. Just, never been shot at before; really's screwin' with my head. Holy-Christ-on-a-cracker that was messed up! Who opens up without so much's a warning?! And you, how're you so chill?!" He glanced up at Haruko in the rearview mirror.

"Eh, it's not so bad, once you're used to it." Haruko made a lukewarm attempt at consolation. "You've been shot at once, it may's well be a thousand times."

"I don't think I want to get used to getting shot at." Naota said. It wasn't like he was forseeing any major wars on his horizon. "Getting shot at once is one time too many."

"Sooo…we're not going back to the mine then?" Haruko sounded genuinely disappointed.

"Not anytime soon, that's for daaaammmn sure." Rig answered as they approached the southern edge of Black Moshannon Forest, almost out of the woods. "Not for a loooooong time…"

"Then what is your great idea then?"

"Go home, clock out for lunch an' have me a blessed goddamn nap." Rig almost managed a smile back at Haruko in the mirror. "Sound good?"

"You know, that actually sounds perfect." Naota said, keeping a nervous eye on his door's mirror. So far, no black SUV's or dirt bikes had been following them. But, just because he couldn't see them, didn't mean they weren't there. "Should we at least talk to George and Tommy first though?"

"Oh…shit. Well, yeah, of course, I guess…" Rig sighed like he was the polar opposite of thrilled at the prospect. "That's gonna be fun. They're just gonna love hearing about this…"

. . .

"Didja get 'em?"

"Hmm? Did we get whom?"

"You know, whoever your guys were shooting at." Craig gave his head a toss, shaking his hair out of his face. "I roll up and two minutes later, there's a small war goin' down just over the hill."

"Oh, that. I wouldn't worry myself about it, if I were you." The Man in Black smiled. As he reassured Craig, a squad of soldiers hustled by, carrying one of their comrades on a stretcher. His throat and half his face were swathed in black stained bandages, and an emergency respirator was strapped over his mouth. Groaning madly in pain, he clenched a stretcher bearer's hand in his, gurgling and coughing with a fluid, wet sound; blood was in his throat.

"And I wouldn't worry myself about that either, if I were me, right?" Craig guessed as the squad headed for the medical wing.

"You catch on very quickly, such an astute young man." The Man in Black complimented. He said his goodbyes to one of Medical Mechanica's engineers, tasked with constructing the latest generation of Irons, and joined Craig. "Now, your next, and main focus, is follow-through."

"Follow-through?"

"Yes, it's not enough to…oh, what's that vile phrase you're fond of? Hit it, and quit it?"

"Oh yeah, now you're speakin' my language!" Craig laughed, following The Man in Black as he conducted an inspection of the Iron. Craig, an office desk jockey, couldn't name even half the tools or machines whirring around him. All he knew was that there existed a small town, operating on, around, inside and under what had been Roman's Mine. "So now it's time for Round Two?"

"Precisely." The Man withdrew a list from his coat. "Your work with Mr. Dahl was commendable…"

"Hey, you go big or go the hell home!" Craig spread his arms wide, grinning from ear to ear. "Gotta show these old hard-asses who the new Alpha dogs are on the block."

"Indeed, and the Molotov Cocktails were a signature touch." The Man unfolded the list, half listening and half reading.

"The fires of passion always burn hottest." Craig explained. "Passion's key, power too, gotta be fiery; chicks dig that shit yah know."

"On Earth they do?" The Man in Black was making revisions to his list. "Your brother Cole did mention you consider yourself a ladies man, an expert if you will."

"Expert? Thanks Cole for patronizing me. No man, I'm no expert, I'm The Master." He dug his phone out of his pocket and opened the contacts list. "Check it. Fifty…three contacts, all of my harem."

"Harem?" The Man in Black looked up to raise an eyebrow. He was willing to entertain the fantasies of his allies, but only within reason.

"Fuck yeah. All these girls I'm workin' in some way. Some I've just started hittin' up with the ole Craig know-how, others I've gotten to pledge their pussies for my personal use only. Hell, I even know different babes for my different moods." He turned to show The Man in Black, who was undergoing a great exercise in restraint, the filthy tip of a dirty iceberg composed of naughty selfies and screenshotted snapchats. "This one's a dominatrix type, this one's the opposite, super submissive and into ropes and chains, this little minx is obsessed with butt stuff, did you know that you can…"

"I think I have a handle on the subject."

"Oh, I almost forgot the best part. I have a schedule mapped out too, so I don't get bored with the same girl. And the best part is, if you stay gone for a few days, they'll blow your phone up beggin' to blow you! Haha, get it?"

"Craig, if I could…?"

"That and if one of 'em's in a pissy mood or is on the rag, I've got a backup or two…"

"Mr. Kauffman!" The Man in Black snapped and Craig dropped his phone in surprise. "That will be quite enough."

"Sorry dude, eh, Sir." Craig picked up his phone and, after piously dusting it off, returned it to his pocket.

"Do I have your undivided attention?" The Man in Black asked and Craig nodded. "Good. Now, this list is your set of new orders. Read them, memorize them, then burn them. Am I clear?"

"Mmm…yep, yep, I can handle this no problem." Craig read his marching orders, then crumpled them up and shoved them into his pocket. "Well, if that's all, I've got places to go, things to see, people to do…"

"There is one last thing. Let's walk and talk." The Man in Black put his arm across Craig's shoulders, guiding him through the chaotic harmony of the Iron's partially built inner workings, and back to his car. "A little piece of advice, man-to-man. You mentioned earlier those fires of passion. It would behoove you to temper those flames and not let them shine so brightly. Why, you ask? Well, I shall tell you. It's because…" The reached Craig's car, and The Man in Black stood back to address Craig while looking him square in the eye. "Naughty little boys that play with fire get burned; and you'll be next if you're not careful."

. . .

"Sooooo…how'd it go?" Mike spotted us first, lifting up the hood on his welding mask. "Not good huh?"

"How'd you guess?" I lay on the wooden deck of the lowboy trailer G&R was working on in Bay 1, and stared at the rafters. Natoa collapsed with a heavy sigh into one of our many rolling chairs while Haruko meekly settled onto a shop stool.

"Well, you look like death…" Mike started, interrupted by Haruko's 'toldja so!' Continuing on…"And Naota looks like he's gonna hurl." Mike shut his welder off and moved to wave his hand over my face. "Hey, anyone alive in there?"

"Funny choice of words…"

"What do you mean?"

"We got shot at, that's all." Naota was doing his best 'Thousand Yard Stare' out the bay door, all of his short life flashing before his eyes, or is that me projecting? Well, let's not get into that anyway, there's nothing good there.

"WHAT?!" Johnny's head appeared from under the opposite end of the trailer, he'd been working on the taillights. "Why, did anyone get hurt?" He worked himself out from under the trailer. Seeing we weren't drowning in blood, he sighed in relief. "I'm getting Tommy and George."

"Oh, no, you don't have to…" Too late. Johnny was already out the door and around the corner to the office. "Well, Naota, Haruko. Prepare to get a talkin'-to."

"Pfffft. What do I care?" Haruko didn't seem phased in the least. "I just work here, and barely at that. 'Sides, I think you're in the most trouble."

"Jeff, office." George ordered, leaning around the door. Dragging myself, to the gallows it felt, I followed him.

"Be right back. Weld up a coffin for me." I waved to Naota, Johnny, Mike and Haruko, and once in the office, took a seat on the couch. George and Tommy were behind their desks, Tommy halfway through that month's Maxim, and George checking our email. After a painful silence, I had to say something. "Well gentlemen, this's been wonderfully productive. Send a copy of the transcript to my secretary, and we'll be in touch." I started to get up, but George waved me back down.

"You're not in trouble, don't worry." Well thank G.A.B.S and the F.S.M for that. "We just want to know what happened, Johnny said you got shot at? Are you sure everyone's okay? That's what's most important here."

"We're all fine, unless you count a pair of shit filled skivvies. Yeah, we got shot at, a lot. There's a small army hanging out around Roman's, and they're very well equipped, incredibly well trained; Medical Mechanica's finest. The only reason we made it back at all is because we got insanely lucky. I'd guess these are Marine level troops, they've even got SCAR rifle money."

"SCAR rifles? Shiiiit…" Tommy and George looked at each other, then around the office. "And here we are with barely AK-47 money. Okay, so what'd you see?"

"A whole lot of what I didn't want to. M-M's dug into Roman's deeper than Alice in a rabbit hole. They've got the entire site hollowed out, and…goddamn it…"

"An Iron." George knew what had me tongue tied. "That's…just…"

"Fuck." Tommy summed up the mood. For a moment, we just sat, bumps on a log; staring at each other. That morning was the day we had hoped would never come. The Man in Black, as terrifying as his kind could be, paled in comparison to the Medical Mechanica cancer growing just up the road. Without needing to say anything, the three of us knew that from that moment forward, G&R Fabrication and Cranes of Osceola Mills, Pennsylvania, was at war.

. . .

Craig had memorized his new orders on the drive back to Philipsburg. His next step was to burn them, to prevent the list from falling into enemy hands; whoever that could possibly be was enough to make Craig laugh. The local police department had been bought and paid for with envelopes of cash, doled out to the dying coal country's lawmen from The Man in Black's briefcase. The Sheriff's Department had jumped on board with their own illicit bonus checks, and the promise of ruling their counties like barons when Medical Mechanica took charge. With Cole's influence, the State Trooper garrison had pledged themselves as the future enforcers of their new overlord's will; encouraged by the spreading of a fortune's worth of crisp one hundred dollar bills. So with a blue and brown uniformed force in public, and a black-clad army in the shadows, who in the hell did he, the Stud-meister himself, Craig Kauffman, have to worry about?

Still, he should probably burn the orders just to be safe. He dug around his car, looking for an old lighter. He'd given up cigarillos and taken up vaping, evidenced by the empty cylinders in cup holders. Distracted by his search, he hadn't noticed the light change. The cars behind him impatiently honked and he scratched off across the intersection into downtown. He decided the odds were in his favor that no one would randomly pick up an odd balled up piece of paper and actually read it. Craig picked the first alleyway he saw and tossed his orders out the window. Had he glanced back, he would've seen the small dog dozing in the alley. But his phone's ringing promised a hot date, so onward he drove.

. . .

As Craig cruised away, Gus sat up, stretched, scratched an ear and yawned. He'd been walking one of his many beats in Philipsburg, watching, looking and listening; a four legged furry spy operating in plain sight. After all, who would suspect the little black walking carpet with the red collar, the terror to ankles everywhere? Gus sniffed out and found Craig's orders, sneezing with ear flopping shakes as his nose took in Axe body spray, pink lemonade vaporizer fumes and even the moisturizer Craig had slathered on his hands. But what snagged Gus's attention was the Stench, the reek of a Man in Black. It infested the paper, standing up the fur on the nape of his neck and sending a shudder through him from nose to tail. Whatever this paper was, it had to be important. Begrudgingly, getting a too personal taste of cocoa butter lotion, Gus picked up the orders in his mouth and began his walk home.

. . .

"That was fast." Haruko's ears picked up the office door opening, then clicking shut. "So how much trouble are you in?"

"None, actually. But I appreciate the concern." Rig grinned at Haruko, then looked at Naota. "George an' Tommy are talking over 'tential legal routes, excessive force and all that. What I wanna know, is what you, good sir, wanna do 'bout today."

"What I want to do?" One of Naota's most despised things was happening, he was being put on the spot. Johnny, Mike, and now Josh too, Rig and Haruko, were all staring at him, waiting for a response. That feeling of 'why me?' crept up, but he ignored it; his inner monologue was becoming too whiny for his taste lately. He waffled back and forth, mostly wanting to be away from the pressing eyes. But if there was one over-riding factor of his aversion to attention, it was his stubbornness. He'd started looking into Roman's, he'd brought Haruko and Rig into this, and now that M-M was undoubtedly involved, he was going to see this through.

"Here's what I'm thinking. We can't go to the police because they'd never believe us, and even if they did, word would get out and start a panic, or M-M would find out and, I dunno, blow up the planet or something."

"Well, that's not exactly…" Haruko began, but thought better of it. "Eh, never mind, you don't wanna know. You were saying?"

"Gee whiz, thanks. Anyway, we have to keep this as quiet as possible, tell as few people as possible."

"No prob', this conversation doesn't leave the shop." Rig agreed, looking more at Haruko than him. If Rig wasn't wary of Haruko before, he certainly was now after their run-in with M-M soldiers. "But what do we actually do? That's what I wanna know."

"That…we'll have to figure out as we go."

"If I may…" Johnny offered his opinion. "I'd look into Craig Kauffman. From what you've told me, he's obviously buddy-buddy with those M-M guys, and surely knows something."

"Alright…how to go about that?" Naota's mind conjured up images of Spy VS Spy, bugs and listening devices, phone taps and eavesdropping. "We can't just walk up to him and say 'Hey, can I ask you about the guys you're hanging out with at Roman's? You know, the ones that want to take over the world? What's up with that?' Or…I mean…can we do that?"

"Blackmail" Haruko let the word slither from her lips with relish. "It works every time. Everyone's got deep secrets, stuff they couldn't bear being brought to the light…" She slowly gave Rig a sleazy, knowing wink, causing him to become suddenly and very interested in his boots. "Trust me Naota, I'm kinda an expert at dirty secrets. We dig up Craig's, he'll spill his guts, and then some."

. . .

"Gus! Gussy-gus-gus! Where have you been?" Rita only half-scolded as Gus wiped his paws on the mat. "Not hanging around with Bolt, I can tell, you don't reek. That dog's a skunk magnet." She opened the door to let him in, and noticed the paper ball in his mouth. "What's this, a present for me?"

"Brrr-uff!" He laid it at her feet, then slumped to the floor on his back, exhausted from his day.

"You don't say…" Rita un-crumpled the paper, quickly read it, then looked down at Gus. "You stay right here. I'll fix you a treat in a minute, but Georgie needs to see this." She crossed the lot to the shop, letting herself into the office. George and Tommy were in the middle of a conference call with Mr. Welshman, so she waited for them to finish.

"No Mr. Welshman, we are most certainly not fuckin' kidding you." George said. "This's really happening."

"Then we'd better get a move on then, hadn't we?" Mr. Welshman asked in his usual gruff.

"Yes, and we need to get started yesterday." Tommy said. "Call up your guys, the foremen and supervisors, and the workers that expressed interest. George and I are going to directly talk to them."

"You're really? Can you, do that? Doesn't that violate your cover or rules or something?"

"The rules have changed, Mr. Welshman."

"Guess they have. Right then, how's 'bout the usual day, usual time and place?"

"We'll be there." George confirmed and hung up. "Yes, m'dearest? Thanks for being patient. What's that?"

"Look what the dog dragged in." Rita handed over the paper. Tommy and George leaned in to read. "Gus just got in, carrying this."

'Where did Gus get this?"

"Downtown P-Burg today. He said Craig Kauffman threw it out his car's window. Is it bad…how bad is it?"

"It's bad enough."

. . .

Blackmail. Such a foul word, malicious and biting as it rolled off the tongue. It made perfect sense Haruko was only too willing to use it. Her choice of language found her and Naota a week removed, following Craig Kauffman around town in his daily routines; they had become a pair of stalking shadows. After a retelling of events for George and Tommy, and explaining this was something he had to follow up on, he was given permission to venture off campus. But not without stipulations of course.

He was to check in with Rig, Tommy and George every half hour and update them on where he was, and what he was doing. Second, he wasn't allowed to venture out alone, which in all fairness made sense. Rig couldn't go along because Craig knew him, the Kauffman's hated anyone remotely resembling a Carson, and their entire effort could be undone by one recognized face. Instead, he was observing Craig with Haruko; which burned at him the worst kind of way. She'd behaved thus far though, keeping her usual gloating and teases to a tolerable level. So much so, he wondered if something might be wrong with her.

"Hey, you alive over there?" He looked over, across the truck's bench seat, to see she was half-asleep, leaning back against her door. Their vehicle was an unmarked G&R work truck, toolboxes mounted on either side of the bed, a 'nineteen-eighty…somethin' man, I dunno, least the thing runs' according to Rig. "Wake up, you can't be sleeping now. We're on the clock!"

"Snnxxx…N'wha'?" She blinked and shook her head. "I wasn't sleeping. I was, meditating, realigning my chakras."

"Is there a snoring chakra? Or is that part of the realignment chant?" It had been an up and down week with her. While they had been making good progress on Craig, the home front wasn't doing as well. Kamon had come home Friday to catch her ransacking the fridge, cold chicken in one hand, an open beer in the other and a bag of chips clenched in her teeth. Naota was helping Rig do maintenance on the Ought Too, and heard the ruckus from Rig's house. After the dust settled, Kamon began asking how, and most importantly why, Haruko was in their kitchen. After hearing Naota's version of things, Kamon went to George to 'discuss the matter, and maybe see if another occupant would violate their lease.' Things must have worked out because Haruko was allowed to stay, catching up with Kamon and Shingekuni in the kitchen. Although, this time around, his Dad and Gramps acted slightly more reserved around Haruko; slightly. His Dad was still his Dad after all.

"I will have you know…"

"No you won't. You won't have me know shit." He laughed, seeing what he could get away with.

"What?" She did a double-take. "Is that…sass, I'm hearing?"

"Mmm…could be. Whatcha gonna do 'bout it? Gimme a noogie? A time out? Spank me?" Hey, if she was always wanting to play the teasing game, it was only fair to return fire.

"Don't…don't give me ideas…" She warned, pointing with a finger that nearly poked his nose. "I might not be able to stop myself."

"Uh-huh, because you're the epitome of personal restraint…oh, look who finally came up for air." Craig, after spending the past five hours in a trailer parked in one of Chester Hill's mobile home parks, emerged. For being in league to whatever extent, with M-M, Craig was an easy man to find. His car, already distinguishable with its distinctive appearance, also broadcast a trackable series of booms from a set of sub-woofers that rattled windows. Hearing Naota's preliminary report, Rig agreed and added that 'That prick's always stuck out like an un-hammered nail.'

Craig himself was as unique and flashy as his set of wheels. Tall at six foot even, he seemed longer with a borderline gangly surfer's beach body. Sandy blonde hair hung to his nose, ensuring he had to toss his head to the side every ten seconds just to see; at least when his hair wasn't contained under a 'Tapout' snapback hat. Polo's and low-cut t-shirts were his favorite stile, as were longer cut plaid patterned shorts loosely held up by a fraying canvas belt; all while Sperry Topsiders covered his feet. Just by watching him, Naota already knew Craig to be a textbook, certifiable even, Douche-canoe. During the past week, he'd visited no less than eleven different girls of various ages, all glaringly younger than his 20 years. This was the third such visit he'd made that day, and it wasn't even dinnertime.

"I'll spot him this much, the guy's got stamina." Haruko remarked as Craig started his car, shaking trailers with his engine's revving and blasting bass. "Most dudes would've been crying uncle by now."

"Uh-huh…not sure if that's a blessing, or a curse." Naota half listened as he took notes. Time, date, location, address, description of the area, contact and any other details that stuck out. He glanced down at his notepad to review:

· 1630 hours, Wednesday

· 300 Hill Street, Chester Hill, Sunny Slope Park

· Contact female, est. 16. Blonde, slim, clothes skimpy.

· Appears to be romantic partner

· Time spent: Five hours and

"Five minutes now…" Naota checked his watch as the couple swapped spit on the sidewalk, leaned on Craig's car. This goodbye was dragging annoyingly long, causing him to look around for anything else to stare at besides the attempted tonsil removal.

"Annnnnd…got you. Smile, you're on Candid Camera." Haruko snapped a picture with the camera Josh had loaned them; after deleting half the photos he had on it, mentioning something about a comic convention. "Hey, what're you looking away for?" She'd noticed his attention was directed at a very interesting uhm…uh…tree…

"It's been seven minutes now, not like I'm gonna miss anything I haven't seen."

"C'mon, it's a free, live-action show! Pay attention, maybe you'll learn something." She reached over and palmed the top of his head, turning it forward. "Notice how he's alternating between her lips, chin, annnd neck. Variety's very important. Oh! Now this's…"

"Duly noted, thank you." Naota pulled his head free from her claw-like nails and turned to look out his window, face burning crimson. "Truly…fascinating…shoot me…"

"Awww, they're done." Haruko pouted as Craig revved his car again, this girlfriend in particular waving goodbye from her front porch. He took off in a squeal of rubber and cloud of dust, honking as he went. "Start us up, don't want to lose him!" Naota started up the truck, the radio clicking on as the motor turned over.

"…was a sweet little diddy, courtesy of yours truly, your buddy Beau! This's my Beat's Buffet, and have I got a selection for you! Next is one for those out on a lazy summer drive, just cruisin' 'round and up to no good. Let's give a shout-out to the fellows that cooked this one up, The George Baker Selection. Get it while it's hot, enjoy!"

"Five, three-five, three-five, three-five, five-three, three-fivvvee…five an' three-five, three-five, three-five, three-five, three-fivvveeeee…five-an'-three…" Naota called out the tabs while the bass thumped along, nudging his head to bob along with the beat.

*Yeaaaahhh…Lookin' back, on the track, for a little greeeen bag…

Got to fiiinnnd, just the kind, for loosin' my mind…

Outta sight, in the night…outta sight in the day-aayy-hayy…

Lookin' back, on the track, gonna do it my way…

Outta sight! In the night! Outta sight in the daaay-haay!

Lookin' back, on the track, gonna do it my way!

Look back!

"Oh-three, five an' three-five, three-five, three-five, five-three, three-fiivvvee…five an' three-five, three-five, three-five, three-five, three-five…Ahhh!" Haruko took up the bass part as well, adding her own voice to the song.

"You know this one?" He asked, tailing Craig as he headed north across the Red Moshannon River and into Philipsburg. "I thought it'd be too low-key for someone's high-speed as you?"

"Are you kidding?" She gestured at the radio, while moving her fingers along an invisible fretboard. "This was one of the first tunes I learned on that Rickenbacker. Always love a good bass line, especially right at the intro."

"You know it's a good one when you can tell which song it is by the first few notes." He agreed, pulling over to wait for Craig to come back around. Trying to catch anyone that might be following him, Craig was in the habit of ducking into residential lots, making four left or right turns, then getting back to the road he was originally on. It would have been a great tactic, if Rig hadn't warned Naota about it, and how the best way to avoid it was to immediately stop. Two minutes later, the Craig-Cruiser emerged and continued north; unknowingly with Naota and Haruko five cars back.

Lookin' for some happiness, but there is only loneliness to fiiiiiinnnnnd…

Jump to the leeeeft, turn to the right! Lookin' upstairs, lookin' behhhiinnnnd!

Yeeaahh…

"When did you start learning to play?" He asked, maybe this would be a chance to actually learn something about her.

"Mmm…'bout…six-ish I guess." She couldn't quite settle on a number. "Maybe five at the earliest, definitely seven by the latest. Yeah, six….and a half?"

"Let's say six and a quarter. So why did you start, always dreamed of being a rockstar diva? Parents get you started?"

"Kinda both. There's a lot of musicians in the Haruhara history, bit of a tradition really."

"Cool, cool…I'm really the only musical one. Dad's been known to lay down some karaoke; his voice's his instrument I guess. Any famous players in that Haruhara band, anyone I'd know?"

"No, no one you'd know. Ours is, music of a…different, kind." She kinda-sorta-half explained. "I don't know how to explain it, involves some really deep shit, y'know?"

"I don't know, but sure. Maybe you could play some?" He nodded at the double-necked guitar between them, propped half on the seat and half on her lap. Ever since the Scorpion and being used as target practice, Haruko had declared she was never leaving the guitar out of arm's reach ever again. He initially wanted to argue, to say how out of place she'd be with a double necked guitar slung across her back and how many weird looks they'd get; then decided there were much worse things Haruko could do in public. So in the truck it rode. "C'mon, play me a bit. Is there a song or songs you family's passed down?"

"There's a few. But my guitar's not plugged into anything." She excused, holding up the body for him to inspect. "See? No cable. Nothin'. Nada."

"Know what I'm hearing? I'm hearing nothing but excuses…" He jibed, speeding up to beat the yellow light and not get stuck at the intersection. Now Craig had circled back, headed for the Water Street Mobile Homes, down by the north side of the river. This was an interesting deviation, they had yet to follow him down this particular route. "Excusing yourself away…"

"Well you either play it right, or you don't play it at all." She defended. "I'm not going to do some half-assed, acoustic version. I need some amplification man!"

"Alright, fine, fine. Maybe if you talk nice to Rig, we can use the stereo in his basement."

"Stereo? In Rig's basement? And I'm only finding out now…because…?"

"Just didn't think to mention it." Craig had pulled into the driveway of the trailer closest to the river; at the very back of the park. Naota secured them a spot in the front office's parking lot that still maintained a full view of the trailer's door. Craig walked up to the door and hammered on its tin sheathing, all while texting away on his phone. The door opened and Craig stepped in, immediately closing it behind him.

"And now, we sit." Haruko summed up the situation.

"Yeeeep."

"And now, we wait."

"Yeeeep."

"For who knows how long."

"Uh-huh."

"All…alone."

"Uh-h…what?"

"There's all kinds of ways to pass the time…" Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, beckoning him to slide across the seat to her side.

"Goddamn it Craig, hurry the hell up!"

. . .

"Hey Craig, how's it hangin'?"

"Long, loose and full of juice!" Craig cackled, shutting the door behind him. "How's it goin' with you Clyde?"

"It's…well, it's going. The Man stopped by earlier, left a little surprise for you."

"Well then let's have it!" Craig followed Clyde through the kitchen and into the living room. On the coffee table was a wooden crate, stamped with black letters: U.S. ARMY ORDNANCE DEPT. "Oooohhh…I haven't gotten under the skirt yet, and I already love her."

"Don't open it here, pyro." Clyde ordered. "I don't want you torching my place."

"Oh, lighten up."

"Go fuck yourself man."

"Way ahead of you." Craig undid the crate's latch, opening it to see four rows of four cardboard tubes; sixteen green cylinders. He pulled one out, popping the top and shaking free a bright red can. Inscribed on its side in bold, black letters was its designation: AN-M14 INCEN. TH3

"Hey, what'd I just say?"

"Bro…I think my birthday just came early." Craig spun the can by the ring attached to its pin, then hooked it by its spoon onto his belt. "Check it, I'm two more of these and an M60 away from being Rambo."

"Whatever. Just get them out of here before you blow the place up or burn it down." Clyde sighed, then remembered something important. "You burned your orders right?"

"Yeah, of course." Craig had already forgotten. He replaced the can and its tube back into the crate. "I'm a responsible, grown-ass man, unlike some people." He picked up the crate and made ready to leave. "Hey, I'm just fuckin' with you man, you know that."

"I know, what're brothers for right?!" Clyde's rumbling laugh filled the trailer.

"Take it easy, see you Sunday at Cole's." Craig got the door cracked and used his shoulder to get it the rest of the way.

"Hey Craig…you have fun with those, you damn firebug."

"Oh, Brotatoe-chip…" Craig looked down at the crate in his arms like it was his firstborn child and fondly patted its lid. "I will. Don't you worry."

. . .


*Songs

*George Baker Selection - Little Green Bag

I had used Little Green Bag in the first version of this story, and couldn't leave it out this time around. With Naota and Haruko both being bass players, and the song having such a memorable opening bass line, it HAD to stay in. One thing I want to start expanding on Haruko's past and her own story. What shaped her? What were her influences? Where and how did she grow up? What made her battier than a belfry? You know, the important questions.

Oh, so you've met Craig Kauffman? He's a real treat, ain't he? Douche-canoe indeed. Just you wait, we ain't done with his philandering yet.

I'm really enjoying scenes with Medical Mechanica's Board of Directors and Security Council. Since we have no background on them, I get to write them pretty much however I dern well want; which's pretty dern cool. Especially when I can expand on their own world/society in the background, and little power struggles and petty differences between them. It makes them feel more...real, to me anyway.

Annnnd, that's that, for now. I'm gonna head out, the NASCAR race's on; they're racing in Texas tonight. However, it's raining there so the race's been delayed. So please, keep me entertained in the meantime with your reviews, and any suggestions, comments and what-not in the PM. Thank you again for bearing with my distractions, and of course, thank you for reading!