"Open your eyes, Frankie." Almost on command, Frankie snapped awake and got a quick look at her surroundings. She was on the upper level of an empty warehouse, tied to a pole, and staring straight into the face of Dylan Lee. She thrust out at him, screaming muffled profanities and straining against her bonds.

Dylan arrogantly strutted up to her, put his hands above her head and said, "Well, now that's the Frankie Foster I remember! But it doesn't look like you're in any position to punch me out at the moment." Instead, Frankie did the next best thing--she kneed him right in the groin.

Dylan's eyes bulged in pain as his hands shot to his crotch. He groaned and staggered back as Frankie began to chuckle, the sound of which was quickly silenced as Dylan stalked up to her and slapped her across the face, screaming, "DO THAT AGAIN AND I'LL KILL YOU RIGHT HERE, YOU FUCKING CUNT!"

Frankie's eyes welled with tears as she recovered from the blow and stared, shocked, at Dylan. His eyes narrowed as he returned her gaze, crossed his arms and said, "Get comfortable, Frankie. You're not going anywhere for a while."

She hung her head, totally deflated. She started to hope and pray that somehow, her friends at Foster's would find her and put Dylan six feet under.

-------------------------------------

"Fuck!"

"John, please calm down!"

"FUCK!"

"No mas, John! No mas!"

"FUUUUCK!"

As John paced around the foyer screaming curses and breathing heavily, everyone tried to calm him down, to no avail. Wilt said, "John, don't beat yourself up over this! You'll get her back, and we'll help you!"

Hysterical, John screamed, "HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT, WILT? WHAT IF SHE'S ALREADY DEAD?"

"Don't think like that, John," Bloo said. "Frankie's more than alive, and rest assured, you'll beat Dylan into the ground and ride high with her in your arms!"

"That's real nice of ya, Bloo. Come up with it yourself?" Mac asked.

"Nah--heard it in a song somewhere."

Suddenly, Madame Foster entered the foyer and upon seeing her, everyone paled and began trembling.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Are you cold? I can turn the heat up."

John ran to her, put his hands on her shoulders and said, "Madame Foster, listen to me. We'll take care of this. Don't worry."

"Worry about what?"

"About this, Madame," Herriman said as he hopped towards his creator with the photo in hand. John cringed and looked away as she took a look at the photo and screamed, "FRANKIE! OH MY GOD, FRANKIE!" She whirled around and yanked John down to her level and screamed, "WHO DID THIS, JOHNNY?"

Shocked and surprised by her sudden burst of force, John stammered out, "Uh...Dylan...Dylan Lee."

"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS HE?"

"I don't know--that's what we're trying to find out." Just then, Mac managed to get the GPS working and said, "I think this might help." As he gave it to John, he stared at it to see that it was giving them Frankie's location--she was downtown at the old Rialto Hotel.

"Motherfucker..." John mumbled.

"What? What is it?"

"Mac, this is how he was able to find out where we were! The goddamn GPS unit! He must have put Frankie's cellphone into the database to get a bead on her...that's why he always showed up!"

"What shall we do, Master Jonathan?"

"I'll tell you what we'll do--EVERYONE ON THE BUS NOW!" He started for the garage and continued: "Let's go get her!"

"YEAH!" Wilt yelled as the group raced to the bus, nearly falling over one another in the process. They piled into the vehicle, John at the helm, and peeled off as soon as the garage door opened, with Bloo screaming their party line:

"DEATH TO DYLAN! FRANKIE IS OURS!"