Chapter 3

Detective Shroud looked over at Scott, intently, while Gina cried on the floor. "When you all came in here, you each grabbed shopping baskets, so you had no intention of staying." He began. "The glint of your dog tags told me you were military, and the fact that you checked your watch twice, before I got to you, says that you are meeting someone, presumably military as well." He clicked his tongue. "Since you won't be there on time, how long will it be, before they comm you?"

Scott clenched his eyes, then looked to the clock on the wall. "Twenty minutes." He said, begrudgingly.

Shroud looked at him closely, for a moment, then back to the large man, who nodded slightly. "You appear to be telling me the truth," He began, "there's no real need to lie about that anyhow. Shane, escort Ms. Collier to the highway." He ordered.

Shane grinned, snatching up the screaming girl and dragging her out. The next man entered, he was bald and fat. And his short stature made him resemble The Kingpin, from Marvel holos that Scott had watched. The man sat Tracy at the table, next to the detective.

"Identification scans say her name is Tracy Bonne, a relative of yours. I'll say your little sister?" He grinned, "And I would also say that the screaming Regina there was a friend of hers. Correct?" He asked looking over at her.

"Eat shit, asshole." Muttered a defiant Tracy.

"So it runs in the family!" He replied, laughing, before slapping her.

The blow felt like a brick had hit her, she started to feel fuzzy. How many guys are gonna beat up on me, today? She thought.

"Option One is simple, Scott. I'm going to wrap my hands around your sister's skinny neck, and slow-choke her to death, in front of you. That's just an outright threat, honestly." He said, chuckling. "Option Two: Tracy here, is something of a prodigy. Her school records prove it, along with the little robot fella shaking in the store room, right now. Like her friend, she is too strong-willed to break, but Wily could use an engineer of her caliber, regardless. There are always ways to physically force her to work for him, so we'll go with that."

After a moment, Scott questioned him, "What about Option Three?"

Shroud shook his head, "Not in this case, friend. She's either ours, or no one's. How many men are meeting you?"

Scott's jaw quivered, "I don't know, at least two." He said.

The detective glared at him, wrapping his hands around Tracy's neck. "Option One it is, Mr. Bonne." He began choking her, as she writhed, with her hands and feet bound. He gazed at Scott, as his sister gasp for air. "And we were doing so well." He stated.

Scott began to panic, "Stop! Stop! I really don't know! The team consists of three members, I've only spoken to one! The others may be dead!"

Shroud let go, leaving Tracy coughing. "Next time, Mr. Bonne," he said, coldly, "lead with the maximum number." He looked to his partner, "Take young Miss Bonne to my car, Greg. Then tell the others to set up a perimeter." Shroud looked to the clock, "Our guest, or guests, should be contacting Mr. Bonne soon. He will bring them here." He looked over at Scott, "Isn't that right, friend?"

Gina marched through the grass, as Shane held a shotgun to her back. All of her emotion had been shocked away from her, she couldn't cry anymore. "So, what do you get from all of this?" She asked. "I know you're not going to just let me go."

"Just keep walkin." He replied, in his deep, southern accent. "We'll be there soon enough." Shane lead on, mischievously.

She grimaced at the thought of what awaited her, ahead. "You don't have to do this." She said, with her voice shaking, as they approached the darkened corner of the overpass.

"Calm down, missy. Don't make a scene." He responded, calmly, looking around. He grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. She started to shake, as he shushed her, softly.

"I hope someone rips your fucking balls off, you sick prick." She said, through her teeth, tears falling.

He kept his hand on her shoulder, quietly, for a second. She could hear his steady breathing, hoping he wasn't doing what she was imagining, behind her. After a minute, he blurted out, "Okay, we're clear." There was a quick glittering of what appeared to be mirrors, in the shadows of the underpass.

She stood, bewildered, at the large transport truck in front of her, as her restraints were cut. She turned around to see a fit, baby-faced guy, with long, blood red hair. He wore a yellow eye-mask with white lenses, pulled up on his scalp, smiling at her.

"Sorry, Gina." He said, in a Jersey accent, "Couldn't break character, til we were clear of their range." He put out his hand, "Name's Gerard, Wraiths call me Helix, though."

She was still catatonic by the turn of events. "How did you...but what about...how..."

He smiled, grabbing her hands, "It's technology, the real Shane is dead. And don't worry about Scott and the others, this is business as usual with us."

She stood, wanting to hug him, out of relief. But could only manage an awkward "Okay."

Scott and Detective Shroud looked at each other, silently, for a few minutes. "When are you gonna bring in Danica?" Scott asked, "What are her options?"

Shroud was disinterested, "Her option is the same as yours, she's U.S. Army. Sorry to disappoint, but the game's over." He answered, waiting for the comms to chime. He noticed Scott glance at the clock, again. "Why did you do that?" He said, suddenly.

"What?" Scott asked.

Shroud stepped forward, "You looked at the clock. You know what's going to happen, why keep checking the time?" He asked. As Scott simply shook his head, confused. Shroud began to shake his head with him, "No, no, no. You're not even sweating. You don't appear morose about your friends' fates. Something's not right." He pulled a curved knife, and put it to Scott's throat, "Tell me! Now!"

Out in the store, the mercenaries patrolled, waiting for visitors of any kind. A door in the front slowly opened, releasing a pissed off German Shepherd. The dog covered ground quickly, ripping the throat of one of the thugs, while the others shuffled at the sound. The men closed in, on the paper aisle, to see Rush, ravaging another victim. They raised their guns, frightened, when their limbs began to fall from their bodies, unexplained. They died, confused and afraid.

Greg was escorting Tracy to the black SUV, parked in the loading area, when he was thrown against the wall. The equally large figure rushed him, driving his forearm into his neck. Greg grabbed his throat by instinct, as the massive burst of pressure crushed his ribcage onto his lungs.

Tracy had fallen to the ground, covering her head, when the large stranger grabbed her arm. "There's been a change of plans." The muscular black man said, from under his riot helmet.

"Who the f..." She started.

"Ripple." He said, bluntly. "I'm with your brother, now let's go."

Shroud turned his head, as there was a quick, shortened yelp, from outside the door. Scott used the opportunity to shift his body weight, turning the chair over. The door exploded inward, staggering the Detective, who didn't hesitate to dash forward with all of his might. The open air fluttered as he struck it with his shoulder, before bolting out across the stock room.

"Vapor, he's getting away!" Scott yelled, from the floor.

The wavy outline stood up, and uncloaked, revealing an athletic figure covered in a grey exosuit, with a light blue stripe down the center. He wore a blank, full-face and head helmet, that shined a red glow where the mouth should be. "We don't have time for him, we need to leave." Vapor said, through his suit's speakers. He pulled an eighteen-inch short-saber, cutting the restraints from the chair.

Scott jumped up, grabbing his red jacket, throwing it on. "Where's Danica and the others?" He asked.

"They're with the Wraiths, in the parking lot." He replied, tossing over the pistol that belonged to Danica's, now headless, captor.

The two made their way through the front door, where the large transport revealed itself. It was big enough to fit the eight of them, plus a dog and servbot. Vapor's helmet opened and retracted, as they hopped in. He was a bald man, in his late twenties, with a long goatee and a facial scar that extended from his forehead, around to his chin.

Glitch was a battle-hardened, thirty-eight year old man, originally British Spec-Ops. He had short, jet-black hair, that always seemed to be slicked back. "Grab a seat on the benches, lads. We got places ta be." He said from the driver's seat, smoking a cigarette. He smiled, "Good ta see things 'aven't changed wit Break gettin tied up an all." The men shared a laugh, as they drove off. Scott smiled and shook his head.

"Break?" Tracy asked, quietly.

Scott shrugged and whispered, "Long story."

"Sorry bout the mess, back there." Glitch told them, "Helix 'ere, was already in town an commed me bout overhearin' some bumpkin talkin bout settin traps in shops. I told 'im ta follow the bloke, an decided we'd all meet there." He took a drag of his cigarette, "Figured they'd be taken care of before you guys got there. Turns out they were operatives for Wily. Fuckin' luck, right?"

Helix slapped Scott's shoulder, "That was some pretty good acting in there, man. I was almost convinced myself." He said.

Scott looked over at him, "If you hadn't flickered your real face to me, I may have told him the truth."

Vapor shrugged, "Wouldn't have mattered. There was nothing his group of halfwits could have done against us. They were poorly trained, to say the least."

"What do we do next?" Danica asked.

Glitch kept his eyes on the road, "We go home an eat. It's been a long day." He responded, coolly.