((Beware, violence ahead.))

The garage, if it could be called that, was not a lot to look at. There was enough space to fit a few vehicles and spare parts but nothing more than the basic necessities. Rhys scanned them halfheartedly with his ECHO eye while Fiona paced.

The bandits could return at any moment but there was not a lot they could do about it. They were rats in a barrel, which as she liked to remind him was entirely his fault. He supposed she was right but in the last few weeks they'd started a campaign of jumping from one fire and into another, it was hardly a new experience. In fact, he still didn't think it was the worst part of their situation.

A metal clang rang out causing him to wince and he spun, narrowing his eyes at Fiona.

"Hey, there's a ladder here," she said, tapping her boot on the bottom rung again in case the first time hadn't been enough.

"Great."

"Uh, less sulking Rhys, more light."

He sighed, making his way over to her and lifting his cybernetic palm so that she could see properly. "Just... keep it down, okay? I don't want anyone coming to investigate."

"You're overreacting," she told him as she started to climb. She didn't go far. Her feet hit the walkway above and there was a long pause.

"Fiona? Anything up there?"

"Yep. Whole lot of boxes." She kicked one of them, rattling the contents. Rhys was beginning to suspect she was more than a little irritated. "Get up here."

"Why?"

"Because it's better than waiting around doing nothing. Maybe there's something useful in one of these."

"Like what?" he said with a hint of exasperation.

Fiona sighed. "I don't know. Look, you're the only flashlight I have so come on, light."

"It's nice to know," he muttered as he began to climb, "that my contribution is appreciated."

If Fiona heard him she gave no sign, she'd already parked herself down and was opening the nearest box. She shuffled over as Rhys made it onto the walkway, begrudgingly making room for him. He titled his cybernetic palm downward to illuminate the contents.

"Huh," said Fiona, picking up a clip and spinning it idly in her fingers.

"Who stores ammo in cardboard boxes?"

"These guys apparently," she said, dropping the clip carelessly and moving onto the next box. "Oh, there's a gun in this one."

"Oooh, that could be useful."

"Yeah, if you're planning to shoot your foot off. Look at this piece of crap, held together with spit and... and whatever that is." The spot she indicated to looked suspiciously like gum.

"Well it can probably shoot more than three bullets," he said.

She sent him a scowl. "Hey, there is nothing wrong with my gun. Besides, our best bet isn't getting into a shootout, we just need a quiet chance to slip away, no harm no foul." For a moment her expression shifted. "Hold up, Gortys is calling."

Fiona went quiet, hand pressed to her ear as she listened. She took a steadying breath. "Alright, you do what I told you, okay? You hide and we'll get to you as soon as we can, I promise."

Gortys must have responded because Fiona nodded as if satisfied, then let her hand drop.

Rhys doubted the news was good but still he had to ask. "What was it?"

"Someone's trying to get into the caravan. I told her to keep hidden but there's not a lot else we can do while we're stuck here." She let out a vague groan of disgust. "This has to be the worst rescue mission."

"Well, uh, there-there was mine," Rhys said eventually. He tried to make it lighthearted, to keep any bitterness from his tone, but it was a faltering attempt at best.

"Except that one never actually happened," she admitted. She had the curtesy to look away, tipping her head back to stare upward. She looked oddly grim, something he was unused to seeing. Oh she could look pissed, and she could look fierce, but she rarely looked... he couldn't find the words for it. A certain severity that had nothing to do with anger or determination. She blinked and the moment was lost. "The ceiling's much closer up here."

Rhys coughed. "Is that a... uh, metaphor, or am I-"

She grabbed his cybernetic arm, ignoring his protests as she angled it up. She came to a decision almost immediately. "Those panels look pretty loose, if you give me a boost I'm pretty sure I can reach them, we can climb out."

"And what good's that going to do?" he asked, wrestling his arm back. She let it go, attention elsewhere. She was grinning.

"I dunno, but we'll be on a roof."

This, apparently, was an improvement in her mind. Rhys wasn't so sure. Still, since he had no better plan himself he linked his hands together to form a foothold for her and she clambered up, hitting the ceiling panel with carefully controlled blows until it gave way. She nudged it aside and sudden blinding sunlight spilled into the garage.

He squinted. "How's the view?"

"Shhhh, keep it down," she said, voice hushed. She got her arms up and heaved herself out, carefully checking about. Once she seemed satisfied no one had noticed she lay down, stretching her arms down through the hole toward him. "Come on, I'll pull you up."

"Are you... sure you can do that?" he asked, regarding her skeptically.

She gave a wry smile. "I can't be any weaker than you."

"I am... not... that weak..." he said, with a halfhearted laugh. Fiona's face was mercilessly stoic.

"Just hurry it up," she told him, flapping a hand about as if he might have missed it.

Rhys extinguished the light of his cybernetic palm and took hold of her wrists, Fiona grabbing his in turn, pulling upward with all her might. She gave a grunt. "God, I forgot how heavy you are."

"Hey, you said you could do it so pull!" Rhys snapped back, feet dangling inches off the ground.

"I am pulling!"

"Well pull harder."

"You are not helping right now," she ground out, teeth clenched tight as she strained against his weight. Another few inches and he'd be able to grab the edge.

The rattle of the garage shutter sounded behind him. Fiona froze.

"Fiona!" he hissed. She snapped back to attention, leaning back as she attempted to lift him the last little bit. They weren't going to make it in time.

Fiona must have noticed. Her expression was apologetic. "Sorry Rhys," she said, and pried herself free. He dropped back down to the walkway in shock, barely able to keep his balance as he staggered. He had time to shoot a glare upward and catch her mouthing the word 'hide' before she shoved the ceiling panel back into place.

Leaving him in his own mess again. And he got it, he supposed, given everything he'd put her through, wished he could even say he accepted it, but it still stung. He thought he'd gone some way to mending those bridges... but maybe he'd just imagined it. The longer they stayed broken the more reasons she gave him to resent her back. It was like a horrid cycle. They'd never started as friends but now that whatever they'd built was crumbling he found himself missing it.

Crouching down amongst the boxes Rhys reminded himself that self-pity was not a very good survival tactic and quietly drew his stun baton.

A light flickered on, shredding the feeble shroud of shadows around him and making his cardboard cover all the more pathetic. It's fine, Rhys told himself with an edge of desperation, yeah, it's totally fine and they're not going to look up here.

The shutter ground to a halt. Footsteps, several of them, he found it hard to count. Three people? Four? ...more than four? He was just guessing, brows knit in a deep frown as he calculated his diminishing odds.

"See, it's like I told you," a voice said, "Brandon's ride. No Brandon. Means it's mine now."

"Why does it get to be yours?"

"Cos I found it!"

"I thought Larry found it."

The first voice paused for a moment. "Well Larry already drives, so I'm thinking he doesn't need two cars, right? Plus Larry's a piece of crap. No one likes Larry."

The second bandit gave a snort. "Eh, you got that right. Made fun of my boots the other day."

"Ain't nothing wrong with your boots."

"Exactly!"

A third voice broke into the conversation, distinctly more nasal. "What happened to Brandon?"

"Hell, how should I know? Probably face down in a ditch somewhere, who cares?"

"Just think that if someone killed him we might return the favor... can't let the other clans thinking we're soft."

"Fair enough," the second voice said. "We'll take a party out tomorrow, see anyone looks funny we'll teach them a lesson."

"Alright... I'll throw some extra ammo in, make it a good time." His feet hit the ladder and Rhys tensed.

"Whatever," the other bandit muttered, already distracted. "Hey you, don't touch that!"

The steady clank of boots on metal drew closer. Rhys knew there was no chance of staying hidden if the bandit made it up, but if he did anything to announce himself they'd all try to kill him anyway. He doubted they'd accept a peaceful surrender.

This was exactly the sort of time he needed Loader Bot to swoop in and save him, except he was... well, Rhys was ashamed to admit he had no idea where Loader Bot was, if he was even still... no, Loader Bot was fine. The last while had been... complicated. He'd lost track of more than one friend, but once he got out of this, once the whole Jack problem was gone... then he'd fix everything. He just needed to survive for now...

Not the best point to go off on a mental tangent. Crap. One way or another he was going to have to act, time was running short. He'd just have to take his chances.

Keeping as low as he could he crept closer to the edge. He was too anxious to breathe, even the faint sound sound of his clothing seemed too much. His knuckles were white, clenching the stun baton. Hey, no problem, he'd done this before right? His first day on Pandora had been a shootout. He was like a... a connoisseur of danger at this point. He could do this...

The bandit's head popped up over edge of the walkway. Rhys clicked the baton and jammed it right between his eyes. With a sudden burst of electricity the man went flying back, slamming into one of the vehicles below. A heavy silence filled the air followed by a moan of pain.

"...the hell?"

Well. Rhys was pretty sure they knew he was here now. This was a bad plan. This was a reeeally bad plan.

"So uh, if you'd all surrender now I-I'll go easy," he said, the effect somewhat spoiled by the way his voice insisted on breaking.

The sound of guns being reloaded reverberated through the garage and boots hit the ladder. He'd expected as much. He backed away from the ladder and, making a spontaneous decision, vaulted over the railing and down to the floor below.

It was a lot further down than he remembered. As he tried to push himself back to his feet he caught sight of a figure moving around the closest car. Snatching up the stun baton he rolled under the vehicle.

"You're dead meat, asshole!" Bullets sprayed the ground just behind him.

Scrabbling out the other side Rhys struck closest bandit, slamming him into the wall with the baton and turning toward the exit. Another bandit blocked his path, gun locked on his head. Rhys froze. He was too far away to hit with the stun baton, doubted he had time to drop and roll under the car.

Almost as if in slow motion a sigh sounded in his own skull. Gotta hand it to you kiddo, you've got a real knack for trouble. I mean, gees, I leave you alone for what... a day? And here you are, ha, fricken getting shot at by bandits! It's... it's practically a condition at this point.

Adrenaline overpowered any natural repulsion he felt. You could be a little more helpful right now, he sent back. His body was already moving though.

Jack yanked the car door open, ducking behind it as the bandit unloaded his magazine. As the clip went dry Jack dodged round, running straight for the bandit and seizing him the throat.

It felt too fast to follow. Rhys was simply dragged along, an unwilling passenger in his own head. Maybe that was for the best, he didn't know what he would have done, except maybe scream.

Jack flung the bandit against the other car. Rhys felt his grip begin to tighten. Slowly at first, more for satisfaction than anything, but with the cybernetic arm it was easy to exert the right pressure. The bandit kicked, hands clawing helplessly against Jack's grip. Rhys couldn't see the bandit's expression behind their mask but the way they shuddered made him feel sick. Jack was too busy to draw it out. It ended with a grisly crunch and he allowed the man to drop, stooping to pick up his pistol. He pulled a spare clip from the corpse and reloaded.

Take notes kitten, this is how it's supposed to be done.

Moving out from behind the second car he levelled the gun and fired five shots through the nearest bandit, tearing through his chest in a spray of blood, then immediately swivelling to hit the next target. Another down, falling like dominos. He was laughing. Of course he was. Nothing pleased Jack more than murder.

He shot the bandit who'd been climbing to the walkway in the leg. He toppled to the ground with a scream. Sobbing the man attempted to crawl away.

"Stop shooting! I surrender!"

"Well that just makes this so much easier for me now doesn't it?" crowed Jack, closing the distance between them at a leisurely pace. He aimed carefully and sent a bullet right through his head.

Man I never get bored of shooting those guys. Bandits, am I right?

He tossed the pistol aside, turning about as if to find something more interesting than the corpse splayed at his feet. Rhys felt as if he were in shock. He'd never get used to seeing this, no matter how many times... he knew it wasn't him but he could still remember the sensation of his hands around that bandits throat, squeezing... crushing... that had nearly been Fiona. If it hadn't been for August... he suppressed a mental shiver.

A shriek to his left. Jack barely managed to twist out the way as a buzz axe whizzed past his ear. He snorted, more amused than anything. Taking a couple of steps back to face the psycho he- paused.

And like a light flickering out Jack was gone.

Rhys took another step back, too stunned to do more than stare, the astonishment of suddenly finding himself in control again leaving him stupefied.

The psycho gave a howl of laughter. "It's time for the meat puppet!"

The manic tone of its voice shook him back to reality. With a yelp he threw himself backward, avoiding the second strike. He reached into his jacket for his stun baton but it was gone. Of course. Jack had dropped it like a toy he was bored with. Why the hell had he chosen this moment to disappear? Cursing to himself Rhys looked about wildly, eyes wide for anything he could use. The pistol Jack had abandoned wasn't far, lying out in the open.

He ran, the giggling psycho hot on his heels, panic bubbling in his veins.

If Jack could use a gun he could. It wasn't too hard. Just like fingerguns, point and kapow! Blam! ...oh god, oh god.

He pivoted and sped round the car, hoping to gain some distance between him and his pursuer. It seemed to have the right effect, and by the time the psycho had skidded, adjusted their trajectory and followed him, he was back the other side. He dived for the gun, fingers fumbling as he scooped it up. Turn and shoot. Easy.

Rhys spun to face the charging maniac and forced himself to squeeze the trigger. It clicked empty. His mouth hung agape in horror as the triumphant psycho swung the buzz axe down. He didn't have time to dodge. All Rhys could do was clench his eyes shut and prayed it would be over quick.

After a few trembling seconds it was not. No flash of searing pain. No bright light. Just the sound of his own shuddering breath, oddly loud in the cavernous space of the garage.

Cautiously he cracked an eye open. The psycho stood right in front of him, buzz axe held aloft, yet it didn't move. It was staring down. Rhys followed its gaze to the blue sword pointing from its chest.

"I-is that..." Rhys stuttered, not entirely sure what he was trying to say. The air behind the psycho shimmered and a familiar figure in a black and grey jumpsuit blinked into view. They pulled the sword free with one fluid motion, flicking the blood away as the pycho collapsed.

Rhys couldn't help himself. He let out the most awkward laugh of his life. A perfectly rational reaction to nearly dying he told himself, that was all. He was still holding the gun. Realizing this he let it slip from his fingers, clattering to the ground. He cleared his throat. "Wow, that was, er, that was... you have no idea how good it is to see a familiar face... mask... d-did I mention how cool you are?"

Zero cocked their head to the side. He couldn't read their expression and they didn't bother to flash him any clues. "Strange finding you now. It seems our paths cross again. But why are you here?"

Rhys scratched the back of his neck. "That's uh," he began, trying to work out what the assassin was thinking. There was nothing threatening about their body language, nothing more than usual anyway, but Rhys was only half sure. That was what make them so cool, really, that level of danger, mystery, that... damn, he was getting side track and staring like an idiot. He just wasn't used to meeting people like this. "It's a... long story," he finished lamely.

The assassin didn't move. "Huh."

((So, wow, sorry about the long wait, I'm not very good at keeping on top of my life, but I have places I want this to go. I love everyone who comments, I really hope you're enjoying this!))