Tire Tracks and Spent Casings Chapter 7: Zero to Sixty in a New York Minute, a gunslinger girl fanfic

Tire Tracks and Spent Casings

A Gunslinger Girl Fanfic by MP5

Disclaimer: Gunslinger Girl is the property of Yu Aida. All trademarks featured herein are copyright their respective owners. Allison and Brian as well as other original characters herein are property of MP5 unless otherwise noted.

Kara Pagani and Michele Pagani are the property of Kiskaloo

Lucretia and Melanie are the property of ChaosKin640

Wes and Nat are the property of Alfisti from Cyborg Central forums/ Wraith11 on deviantArt

Diego Zhao/Rush copyright Chuck Dixon and DC Comics

Chapter 7: Zero to Sixty in a New York Minute

New York City

"Get down. We gotta stay out of sight."

Two figures in the shadow of a Manhattan alleyway ushered themselves behind a large metal dumpster as the wail of several sirens grew to a peak. Around ten NYPD Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptors screamed past on Madison Avenue heading southwest where a shootout had just occurred.

"How's the wound, Pietro?" asked one of them, a woman with short brown hair.

"Still hurts, Elenora, but I'll live." replied a man with black hair and stubble clutching his side.

"If we can dodge the cops and the mob, we can make it to my Zio's place in Bensonhurst. It's safe there, and we can re-establish contact with home. I really wish we didn't have to destroy our phones, but the damn GPS..."

"Why not get a burn phone, instead?" asked Pietro, trying to offer a simpler solution.

"No roaming allowed- can't make international calls with one." replied Elenora.

"How are we for money? We could take a cab to your uncle's place."

"First, we tend to your wounds and dump these clothes. And if possible, we'll try to take the subway. It's cheaper, we can blend in better, we won't be stuck in traffic, and there's inevitably one that runs to where we need to go. But we have to be careful, what happened at that warehouse probably increased police presence, not to mention those mafia guys are probably looking up and down for us."

"All right. Meds and clothes it is." agreed Pietro, pulling out his SIG-Sauer P226 and checking the magazine. "How are you for ammo? I still have a couple spare mags."

"Just two spare mags on my end. I don't want to have to use this if I can help it." replied Elenora, checking her sidearm as well.

"That's the spirit." replied Pietro, holstering his SIG. "I'm ready to move again and the pain isn't too bad. Let's go."

The two left the safety of the alleyway, leaving behind a few insignificant crimson drops behind them.

Social Welfare Agency Special Operations Section II, Rome

"Lorenzo, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't have to, but these are my two best people on the line, here." admitted Section One's Chief Draghi.

"Gabrielli and Fermi, right? The two you sent to snoop in my territory during the Elsa case?" replied Section Two Chief Pieri Lorenzo, bringing up some past unpleasantness.

"Yes, those two. I had them on an assignment tracking a source of American-made black market weapons going to the likes of Camorra and the Five Republics Faction, but they were compromised and Section One has lost contact with them. I have to ask your help because my section is understaffed as it is, and I know you have people who would be up to this task."

Lorenzo interlaced his fingers atop his desk as he regarded his Section One counterpart and rival. "All right, suppose I do you a favor here. Who exactly did you have in mind?"

"The fratello that was responsible for extracting Leonardo Rossini from Rivalba. I would like them to retrieve Fermi and Gabrielli from New York City. I think Rossini said they were the McDonnell Fratello."

Lorenzo thought about it for a moment or two. Sending in the McDonnells would not only have Draghi owe him as long as his two agents were returned safely, but they could also cement Thomas McDonnell as an ally and informant stateside, where there were a lot of links with organized crime from Italy. A source of information such as Thomas could aid them greatly. All that was left to do was convince Brian McDonnell to straighten things out with his cousin. The officer was undoubtedly a good cop, but the way he did things was less than by the book, and that could be exploited if he refused to cooperate.

"All right then, Draghi. I'll send the McDonnells to rescue your agents. But remember that you owe me now. I will expect your cooperation when I ask for it."

"Whatever you need, Lorenzo." replied Draghi almost grudgingly. "Just get my people back safely."

Draghi left the office quickly, and Lorenzo wasted no time in getting the ball rolling. "Jean," he said into his office phone after dialing up his second-in-command. "Get McDonnell into my office."

"So what was driving in a special-stage rally like?" asked Kara as she began field-stripping her FN F2000 at one of the picnic tables at the outdoor range. She and Allison had finished a bit of target practice and the two found time to talk while committing to the almost-religious maintenance process of their primary weapons.

"Oh man, it's even better than on TV!" gushed Allison excitedly as she started taking down her CTAR-21. "You're screaming through the forest at like maybe fifty to seventy miles an hour, blind corners all over the place and all you're going on is the pace notes which are read off like five seconds before you actually get to the turn, and when you do turn, you're almost always going sideways because you can't brake like you do on tarmac, and you also need to maintain high speed through the turn, so at least every other turn is a drift. It's just so intense, Kara, you really have to try it sometime, I swear!"

"Sounds like fun, but I like doing Regularity rallies with Michele. I always look forward to the Mille Miglia." replied Kara, cleaning the main operating mechanism of her F2000.

"I'm sure the Mille is nice, Kara, but you haven't lived until you do a special-stage rally. In fact, if Q-branch has fixed the Evo, we can probably still do a run through the practice course!"

Kara's face simply returned a nervous and sheepish smile before the two were interrupted by the sound of full-automatic gunfire from the range nearby. Their attention was focused on a lone boy dressed in blue mechanics'-style overalls firing an Israeli Military Industries Negev Light Machine Gun.

The boy, who appeared to be of middle eastern descent, held down the trigger on the LMG while he opened fire on his target in standing position, folding stock pressed well against his shoulder. Casings and plastic disintegrating links from the belt-fed weapon piled into a mound on his right as he continued firing, barrel rise apparently a non-issue with the weapon, which chattered away with 5.56x45mm NATO rounds at a rate of 1,000 rounds per minute. Surely enough, the belt that was fed into the weapon—composed exactly of 1,000 cartridges linked together—ran out after a full minute of non-stop firing. The barrel smoked as the boy set down his weapon and produced a small Apple MacBook as he typed rapidly into it with one hand entering data on the keyboard while his other arm supported the laptop itself. He hit a final keystroke before nodding and shutting the laptop closed, placing it back into a shoulder bag. He then took a small brush and swept his casings and disintegrating links into a small plastic bag. He then picked up the Negev and opened up the chamber to check for any rounds before safing the weapon and slinging it over his shoulder as he went back to the compound building, not noticing the two girls watching him. As he left, Allison and Kara got up from their seats to look at the target the boy had just shot up. They were amazed to find a tight grouping no larger than a fist in the center-of-mass in the human silhouette target downrange. A thousand rounds had gone into making this extremely precise grouping.

"He certainly can shoot." mused Allison. "He's got to be a cyborg if he can get a grouping like that on full auto and still chew through a 1000-round belt nonstop."

"Who is he, though?" wondered Kara.

"Beats me. Never seen him around here before." replied Allison. "Anyway, let's pack up. I have to talk to Lucretia about something that'll help me on future missions."

"YOU DID WHAT?" screamed Brian in response to the last sentence to come out of Chief Lorenzo's mouth. The Ulsterman was now out of his seat, which had toppled over when he suddenly stood up in a fit of emotion. Across from him, Lorenzo spoke again with the neutral calm he had begun the meeting with.

"Did it sound like I was mumbling, McDonnell?" asked Lorenzo rhetorically. "I said that after a few months after Allison's field trial in New York, we had sent Ferro, Jean, and Priscilla to have a talk with your cousin Thomas, and they have told him everything he needs to know."

"With all due respect, sir, what the bloody hell gave you the right to go behind my back and drop everything onto my cousin? What makes you think my family is worth involving?"

"Because he can serve a purpose, Brian. Because he is on the side of justice. Most importantly, because you got him involved. I was simply taking measures to prevent him from becoming a liability. Now sit down and let me continue before we waste more time."

Lorenzo went on to explain the disappearance of Fermi and Gabrielli in New York City and the urgency of recovering them. When he was finished, Brian finally piped in, anger still evident on his face, but focusing on the mission at hand.

"So where does my cousin come into this?" asked Brian.

"Well, as a police officer, he should no doubt have heard about this by now, and if he is following the instructions we have given him, he will no doubt have some measure of assistance available for us. Utilize that assistance as you see fit, but what matters is that you recover the Section One Agents Fermi and Gabrielli before local law enforcement or organized crime groups get ahold of them."

"Let me guess, me and Allison are to leave immediately?"

"Yes. Time is of the essence. Yuri has already been notified in Jennifer's stead and has a plane waiting at Pratica Di Mare while the Fitzgibbons Fratello are out on assignment. Consider yourself dismissed."

Brian stood up and turned on his heel to walk out the door.

"One more thing, Brian."

The elder member of the McDonnell Fratello turned to face the chief. "Yes?"

"You better learn how to keep a lid on that temper of yours and remember your place. I don't tolerate insubordination like what you've just shown me. I need professionals, McDonnell, not loose cannons. Now continue on your way."

"Yes, sir."

Brian exited the office and proceeded immediately towards the armory. Walking at a pace that matched his still-simmering anger and frustration, he soon found his way to a window reinforced with a steel grate and bulletproof glass and a doorbell built into the frame of the window which provided a view of multiple weapons racks where rifles, submachine guns, and other long guns were held. He rang the doorbell and a middle eastern boy answered the call, coming from the back of the armory still adorned with his protective leather apron and safety glasses.

"Buon Giorno, Mr. Brian. It is nice to see you today." greeted the boy. "Mission, or target practice?"

"Mission, Saladin. Short-notice and urgent. Diplomatic-marked, please."

"Of course, sir." the boy replied, disappearing for a few seconds. He came back to the window and opened a small door and tray beneath the counter, passing through a very large padded and lead-lined secured bag with clear markings that it had the designation of a diplomatic bag and was exempt from customs search.

"Your HK416 and Allison's Tavor as requested, plus twenty PMags and ten 7-round Kimber 1911 mags, two 300-round boxes Winchester 5.56 NATO ammunition, two 50-round boxes Fiocchi .45 ACP ammunition, plus cleaning kits and batteries for the electronic sights, as per usual. And just in case, there are also four M67 fragmentation grenades, four M84 Stun Grenades, and four AN M18 Smoke grenades included in one of the external pockets, the safety pins have been taped down to prevent accidental discharge during transport."

"Thanks, Saladin. I owe you."

"You owe me nothing, Mr. Brian. It is my job. I shall leave you to yours, then."

Brian waved farewell to the young boy before leaving to fetch his young charge and get his own personal effects.

Meanwhile, Allison had walked into a room whose door was marked 'Melanie-Lucretia', where she found a girl with black purple-streaked hair sitting in front of a comprehensive desktop computer setup. The girl had on a pair of Razer Barracuda HP-1 gaming headphones as she clicked a mouse rapidly and her left hand danced on the keyboard, clearly focused on the on-screen game, Starcraft II. Allison shifted the messenger bag hanging on her shoulder before tapping the girl to get her attention, which startled the girl, and with her attention diverted, things suddenly went in her opponent's favor onscreen as her units were quickly massacred.

"Dammit Allison! I'm on a Korean server!" the girl began to rage. "You have any idea what you just did? Those guys are as fast as I am, and I'm a cyborg. Look at it now, I'm getting owned, and it's all your fault!"

"Sorry, Lucy." replied Allison apologetically. "But right now, I've got a big job for you that requires your expertise and full attention. Something you can really sink your teeth into."

Lucretia forgot her anger for a second, intrigued by Allison's words. "All right, go on. What have you got for me?"

Allison smiled and unzipped the messenger bag, dumping the contents onto the bottom bunk bed. Many several jewel-cased discs spilled onto the bedspread followed by a small handheld electronic device with an LCD display and a long wire leading out of it that ended in a peculiar-looking plug. Lucretia picked up a few of the discs, which were DVDs upon closer inspection. Each of them had a single name written on them.

"Audi... Alfa Romeo... Lancia... Toyota... Nissan... Mercedes-Benz... BMW... Fiat... Allison, these discs all have manufacturer's names on them. Care to tell me what this is about?"

"This is about unlocking the full potential out of almost any car I can get into. Those discs you have in your hand contain configurations for the majority of automobiles out there in dot-CFG form. Each configuration is designed to squeeze the maximum amount of horsepower out of a given engine via changes to the settings of a computer-based Engine Control Unit. For example, if I pick out say, a late-model BMW M5 and upload the new configuration to it, I can choose to have nothing but the full M Driving Mode 507 horsepower and sharper throttle response as soon as I fire up the engine, but more importantly, it jailbreaks the car from that pesky 155 mile per hour electronic speed limiter. Of course, that might pose some risk to the overall integrity of various components, but it's nice to have a higher top speed just in case."

"So in other words, automotive cheat codes." replied Lucretia, shuffling the discs.

"If you want to put it that way, yes."

Lucretia gave Allison a grin. "I like it."

"How much time am I looking at for this to get done, Lucy? Got an estimate?"

"Well, copying the .cfg files isn't going to be a problem, the computer can do that automatically. However, I still have to write the software for the handheld computer here—I've never seen this plug by the way, what's it for?"

"That plugs into a vehicle's On-Board Diagnostics port—OBDII, for short."

"Okay, well I'm going to have to play around with this to understand its workings a bit better, though I do see it has a USB port. All told, I'd say at least a month before you can start using this."

"That big a project, huh?" said Allison. "All right, I can live with that. What do I owe you? Some cash? Maybe some hardware?"

"Tempting, but no. Rather, I'd like to be owed a favor that I can call in when I feel the time is right. Is that reasonable enough to you?"

"As long as it's a reasonable favor to call in, Lucy. You've got yourself a deal."

Allison and Lucy shook hands to confirm their little transaction, and it was right at that moment Brian knocked on the door of the dorm room.

"Hello, Lucy." Brian greeted before turning to his younger sister. "Allison, pack a travel kit good for 24-48 hours and fire up the Delta. We've got a callout to New York, effective immediately."

"What for?"

"I'll tell you on the way to Pratica Di Mare, now move it."

Minutes later, Allison had her own personal effects packed into a duffel bag and both her and Brian were in Allison's Delta sprinting towards Pratica Di Mare airbase. In the passenger's seat, Brian unloaded his and Allison's sidearms before tucking them in the 'diplomatic bag' in the back.

"Brian, are you going to brief me, or not?" asked Allison, not taking her eyes off the road.

"Right. We're being sent on another rescue mission. Gabrielli and Fermi got themselves involved in a shootout while investigating some kind of black market weapons deal for Chief Draghi. All we know right now is that they were in Manhattan when they last contacted home base before destroying their phones so that they couldn't be tracked."

"And we're expected to find them? Needle in a haystack, much?"

"Actually, it might not be that difficult. We're going to meet with Cousin Tommy and see what he knows. He might even have assistance for us."

"Cousin Tommy?" asked Allison, a single eyebrow cocked in surprise. "What does he have to do with this mission? Is there something I should know, Brian?"

"We'll answer that question later, Allison. Right now, let's just get to the airbase and meet with Yuri. He's got a plane waiting to get us out of here."

"Okay..."

Allison shifted to a higher gear and pressed on down the Autostrada, the exhaust note of her Delta lingering in the air as it went along.

"Whiskey-Mike-Alpha Zero-One, you are cleared for takeoff on runway one, over."

"Copy, tower. Whiskey-Mike-Alpha Zero-One, taking off. Out."

Yuri increased throttle and disengaged the brakes, beginning the Ilyushin IL-76MD Warhawk Custom's takeoff roll down one of the runways on Pratica Di Mare airbase. The large cargo plane built up speed before the wings gained lift, bringing the aircraft into the sky, landing gears retracting into the fuselage as it took off into the sunset. Inside the cavernous cargo hold, Allison's Delta sat strapped in place towards the middle of the plane while Brian and Allison themselves sat belted down in jump seats close to the cockpit where Yuri and a female copilot of Hispanic descent controlled the aircraft and kept it on course as they got to altitude, where in a few hours, they would be met by one of Warhawk Military Aviation's U.S.-based refueling aircraft for a final fill-up of go-juice in order to complete their transatlantic flight.

"So what do I do now?" asked Allison, idly swinging her legs. Brian handed her a padded blindfold.

"You catch as much sleep as you can. Power down, conserve your energy, and set up your body clock for American time. You need to be awake and alert once we're on American soil."

"What about you, then?"

"I'm going to sleep, too. You cyborgs may find it optional. I used to be in the SAS—in my day, this was a recommended procedure and more often than not a luxury."

Brian slipped on his own blindfold and leaned back in his jumpseat, folding his arms across his chest as he prepared to doze off for the next several hours.

Not one to doubt Brian's sound advice, Allison also put on her padded blindfold and began to relax, smiling to herself as she leaned her head on Brian's shoulder and get some sleep, their light snoring drowned out by the low-frequency hum of the jet engines on either side of the large cargo aircraft.

Sometime later, Allison slowly felt herself being gently shaken awake. Reaching her thumb up to her padded blindfold, she pushed it up to find Brian standing in front of her.

"Good morning, sunshine."

"Mmf. What time is it, Brian?"

"Just past 5:30 A.M. Eastern U.S. Time. We're going to land in New York in about two hours or so."

"Then why'd you wake me up now?"

"Because I want to show you something cool. We're about to meet with an airborne tanker to refuel mid-flight."

"That's nice..." replied Allison, ready to nod off back to sleep. "But I think I'll pass and just get those two hours of sleep."

"Yuri also has some coffee ready. Black, with lots of sugar, just the way you like it."

"...All right. Let's go see this thing."

The two McDonnells made their way to the cockpit, where Yuri greeted them with plastic mugs of black coffee heavily laced with sugar. His copilot was at the controls keeping the aircraft level.

"You are both just in time." said Yuri in accented English. "Look up."

Allison and Brian glanced out the windshield. Allison's eyes widened further when a Boeing KC-135 Stratotanker passed overhead, the extended refueling boom jutting from the aft section of the fuselage coming into view and then looming in front of them. An American voice came over the radio to greet them.

"Whiskey-Mike-Alpha Zero-One, this is Cookie Five-Zero; come in, over."

"Cookie Five-Zero, Whiskey-Mike-Alpha Zero-One copies." replied Yuri. "Good morning, Jonathan, over."

"Same to you, Yuri. You and Margarita doing all right?"

"It's been a long flight from Rome, Jonathan." replied the woman currently in control of the IL-76. "We could use some topping off."

"You ready to take delivery, then?"

"Ready when you are, Jon."

"All right, extending the boom."

The two massive airplanes matched airspeed as the refueling boom from the KC-135 began to extend towards a receptacle on top of the IL-76's fuselage. The tip locked into the receptacle, and in the cockpit of the IL-76, an indicator light came on as the digital readout for the fuel began to climb in value. Margarita keyed her microphone as she grinned before moaning in a sultry voice.

"Ahhhhn, Que Rica! Mmm, no one does it like you, Jonathan!"

"Only the best for you, baby." replied Jonathan in a faux-macho voice resembling Patrick Warburton. For a moment, all was silent until Yuri, Margarita, Brian, and the crew of the KC-135 broke into laughter. Allison simply rolled her eyes with a small smile.

"Dios Mio, that was bad!" exclaimed Margarita when she finally regained composure, still grinning happily.

"That was the worst porn film ever." agreed Jonathan in jest. Yuri shook his head and turned to Brian and Allison.

"And now you see what transport pilots like us do for fun on long flight."

"You guys must get bored real easily, then." said Allison. "Sounds like what you guys need is an autopilot system and something to read."

"And miss staring at open sky for several hours?" asked Margarita mockingly. "I couldn't bear that!"

It was 7:30 A.M. Eastern U.S. Time when the IL-76 touched down at LaGuardia International Airport. At its slowest speed, it taxied off the runway towards an out-of-the-way hangar reserved for Warhawk Military Aviation aircraft. As they deplaned, a pair of Transportation Security Administration officials awaited them and ran their 'embassy' credentials as well as inspected their non-diplomatic luggage before subjecting them to rather thorough pat-downs, which Allison bristled at a little but put up with for the sake of less complications. The officials signed off on the two and stamped their passports and left the hangar. At this time, Allison's Delta was rolled out of the IL-76 onto the tarmac.

"All right, let's get rolling here." said Brian. "We have to go meet up with Cousin Tommy at the 42nd Precinct first and foremost."

"What address was that, again?" asked Allison, opening the door to her Delta and bringing up the SatNav unit.

"830 Washington Avenue, in the Bronx."

Allison made the necessary inputs, and after a moment or two, the route was displayed. "All right, I've got it up on the SatNav."

"You two take care, now." called Margarita from the ramp of the IL-76.

"You guys get some rest—thanks for flying us out." replied Brian.

Allison fired up the engine of the Delta as Brian eased himself into the front passenger's seat and strapped himself in. as he closed the door, Allison put the Delta into gear and drove out of the hangar to the nearest exit bringing them to the streets leading out of LaGuardia. As Allison fell in with New York City traffic just outside of airport, Brian noted that this was only her second time driving in America, and at that, a city where stop-and-go was the norm. However, with their many sundry bouts in and around Rome, Allison had become used to driving in city traffic, though the sound of idling diesel engines in her vicinity still made the hair on the back of her neck bristle with nervousness as she sought the quickest available escape route to get away from the source of the terrifying noise. At the moment, however, the majority of what Allison and her Delta had to deal with were a sea of New York cab drivers making pick-ups and drop-offs at the terminal, which was best described as organized chaos. Ahead of her and behind her, drivers aggressively competed for spots to let their passengers off or stop for new ones that were hailing them. The standard rules of civilized driving did not seem to apply here, and signaling intent to pull into a lane seemed optional as cab drivers cut each other off or went around one another aggressively, occasionally letting foul words and a middle finger fly to express their displeasure, and the sound of horns honking was regular enough to set a watch to. Through it all, Allison took the situation in stride, though at least once or twice, she honked her horn just to be part of the crowd.

Once she made her way to the highway, however, driving was a little less stressful as more space opened up allowing Allison to cruise at a brisk 70 miles per hour, keeping pace with the other cars around her that were also flouting the posted speed limit. The sound of a loud exhaust caught her attention as a glacier white 2004 Subaru Impreza WRX with a carbon fiber bonnet and boot lid came screaming in behind her at around 85 miles per hour. Recognizing the car immediately, a bit of jealousy welled up within Allison, feeling the need to defend her Delta's honor against this challenger as she moved over a lane and the WRX moved forward but kept pace with her. The two rally-bred cars stayed nose-and-nose, as if sizing one another up for a duel. Then, the passenger's side window on the WRX rolled down, prompting Allison to roll down her own window. Upon closer inspection, it was two young males around her age bracket who had taken interest in her car. Over the noise of the highway and their own engines, the young man in the passenger's seat holding a camcorder called out to Allison.

"Excuse me, is that a Lancia Delta HF Integrale?" called out the spiky-haired youth.

"Evoluzione II model!" replied Allison. "By the way, nice Impreza!"

"Thanks!" replied the driver.

"Hey, can you give us a fly-by and show off a little?" asked the young man with the camcorder.

"I have somewhere to get, is a rolling takeoff okay with you?" asked Allison in reply.

"Sure!" the passenger replied, thumbing the 'record' button. "Okay, rolling!"

"See you guys around!" replied Allison, flirtatiously winking at the camera before blowing them a kiss and waving before giving the Delta more throttle and pulling away like a shot as her own window went up.

"Cute girl with a sweet ride? Match made in heaven, man." commented the Impreza's driver.

"There was another dude riding with her. I think she's taken, bro." replied the passenger.

"Damn."

As Allison changed lanes up ahead to take the exit to merge onto I-87 North, Brian chided her a little.

"You really shouldn't tease those American boys. It's not sporting."

"Would you rather I have raced them down the highway? I know how much you hate that sort of thing."

"Point. Anyway, I doubt getting pulled over would be the fastest way to see Cousin Tommy."

Half an hour later with some traffic, Allison and Brian arrived at the 42nd Precinct building in the Bronx where they had first gone for Allison's field trial. Once Allison found a place to park, Brian fed the meter for an hour as they exited the Delta and made their way inside 42nd Precinct, where they approached a uniformed female receptionist.

"Excuse me, we're here to see Detective McDonnell." Brian stated.

"Do you have an appointment with him?" asked the receptionist, not looking up to acknowledge Brian and Allison's presence.

"Uh... I was under the assumption he was expecting us?" replied Brian, sheepishly remembering that he had not called his cousin in advance.

"Sir, I can't allow you to see him without an appointment."

"Oh, they have an appointment with me."

All three looked up to see Thomas McDonnell leaning against the door jamb of his office. He was looking at Brian and Allison rather seriously.

"Brian, Allison, step into my office, please. Hayner, that will be all."

"Understood, Detective." replied the receptionist, going back to her computer. The McDonnells all stepped into Tommy's office upstairs as the detective shut the door behind them. Closing the blinds to the large glass window for the office, he then took his place behind his mahogany desk, folding his hands atop one another and leaning back in his seat.

"Well then, my favorite cousins from across the Atlantic!" began the American McDonnell rather jovially. "It's been a while—what, almost a year since I last saw you guys?"

"Year and a half." replied Brian uneasily.

"That long? Damn, and I forgot about Allison's Christmas and birthday presents..." replied Tommy sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Allison, I promise I'll make it up to you."

"That's okay, Cousin Tommy. It's not a big deal." Allison reassured.

"Well I'm glad you think so; at least, it's not as big a deal as to why I'm talking to you both." Tommy said, changing to a more serious tone. "Brian, about 10 months after you and Allison were last here, three people came into my office."

"Ferro, Jean and Priscilla, right?"

"Yes. And they told me some very interesting things about the agency you work for."

"Such as?"

"Well for starters, you're not a consultant. You're an operator and field agent. A 'handler', as they told me. Is that the truth?"

"...Yes."

Tommy then turned to Allison. "Allison, you know the people I'm talking about, correct?"

"Yes, Cousin Tommy."

Tommy sighed. "They... they told me Brian is your handler. Is that true?"

Allison leapt to her adoptive brother's defense. "Only if you put it in the terms that Jean would. I don't consider Brian my handler. To me, he is my partner and older brother. We watch each other's backs, Cousin Tommy. We place a lot of trust in each other, and I'm not expendable to him."

"Well on that note, I've been told there's more to you than what most people would think. In the terms that you're not 'normal'." said Tommy. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I can explain-" began Brian before Tommy held up his hand to stop him.

"No, Brian. Let Allison explain for herself."

"What that means is that I am, for lack of a better term, a cyborg." said Allison bluntly. "Underneath the surface of what you see, my body is completely different. My bones are now composed of extremely strong yet lightweight composite materials. I have a lot of artificial muscle tissue that makes me as strong as the most pumped-up bodybuilders, allowing me to lift objects on my own that would take several physically-fit people to move. In addition to my artificial skeleton, parts of my body are ballistically protected and I have a few built-in life support systems that allow me to function with full combat effectiveness even with injuries that by all accounts are life-threatening to most people. I can get shot in the chest or head with standard ammunition and still continue whatever mission I am assigned with an acceptable degree of efficiency. Do you want me to go on?"

"No... I think I get the idea. It's just a lot to take in, that's all." replied Tommy, massaging his temples. "Dare I ask what kind of missions you have to do?"

"It really depends, Cousin Tommy. I fall into a second generation category that has girls and boys in the older teen year age range. Those who are chronologically younger than us generally do a lot of combat, whereas my generation has more specialization in different fields ranging from surveillance and reconnaissance to quick and dirty direct action missions against a specific target." replied Allison.

"Direct Action... that's spook speak for assassination, if I ever heard it." said Tommy. "What's your specialty, then?"

Allison smiled proudly here. "Combat driving and mobile attack. My missions typically involve getting VIPs from point A to B safely, providing an escape route for other team members, pursuing fleeing subjects, recovering any team's vehicle left in the field, and stuff like that."

"That would explain your driving the last time I saw you."

"Not just my driving, but my marksmanship, too." added Allison. "I train with the steering wheel in one hand and a .45 in the other. How else was Carlos Santiago the only man alive when that Lexus of his finally came to a stop?"

"Point taken." replied Tommy with a weary look on his face. "Allison, please promise me you won't ever suffer from road rage."

"I promise, Cousin Tommy." replied Allison with a grin.

Brian then steered the conversation in a different direction. "Tommy, mate, I know this is a lot to take in, and there is probably a hell of a lot more questions you have. But right now, we came to you because my chief said you might have a way of helping us with finding two people who got into a toss-up with the Mafia and are probably now persons of interest at the least."

"I'm guessing this has to do with that shootout in Manhattan yesterday. You know those two personally?"

"Only in passing, Tommy. They work in the other section of my organization. We're being sent to get their arses out of the fire. Problem is, they haven't re-established contact, and they destroyed their phones to avoid being tracked via GPS. They obviously don't want to be found by the police, but we need to find them and get them out of here. Lorenzo said that if you were following his instructions, you'd already have a means of helping us out on this."

"You guys are in luck, then. I have a little somethin' somethin' for you guys..."

Tommy reached under his desk and pulled out a silver Zero Halliburton premium slimline attache case and placed it on his desk. Upon lining up the 3-digit combination, he slid the latch switch and opened the briefcase to reveal $10,000 dollars in cash.

"Uh Tommy, I appreciate the offer, but I have an expense account..."

"Don't be a wiseass, Brian." Tommy chided. "This is compensation for the fellow who'll be helping find your people. He's good at finding people who can't or don't want to be found very quickly and in less than 24 hours. Private investigator, very unlicensed, but he's the best there is if you're in a hurry."

"This bloke have a name?" asked Brian.

"His real name's Diego Zhao, but everyone who's met him calls him 'Rush'. You'll see why soon. I'm gonna set up a meet between you two and him at the Midnight Express Diner on Second Avenue over in Manhattan."

"Nothing like a neutral public location to set the mood." said Brian.

"Actually, it's because the two of you look like you could use coffee and something to eat." said Tommy. "You're both looking a little punked out from the flight over."

"Thanks for worrying about us, Cousin Tommy, but I don't think-" Allison said before her stomach growled audibly, causing her face to flush a bright red in embarrassment.

"Like I said, you should get something to eat." said Tommy with a smile. "He'll meet you in an hour and a half, that way you guys have some time to eat properly without rushing."

Brian turned to his younger sister. "Right then, Allison. Let's fire up the Quattro."

Allison looked at her older brother funny. "What?"

"-I mean, let's fire up the Delta. I'll be out shortly."

"For a moment there, I could've sworn you said 'Quattro'..." mumbled Allison as she spun her car keys on her finger while exiting the office. Brian stayed a little longer with his Cousin.

"Tommy, I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

"Why couldn't you just tell me, Brian? I would've kept my mouth shut. I was thinking that maybe you don't trust me."

"It's not that I don't trust you, Tommy. I just didn't want you to get too deeply involved."

"If you didn't want me to get involved, you wouldn't have come to me a year and a half ago willing to help with that little gang problem. Besides, I'm helping a good cause, aren't I? I'm more than willing to pass on information about Mafia activity as it might relate to the problems you guys are having in Italy if it means helping to stop terrorism in all its forms. For certain New Yorkers like me, the phrase 'never forget' takes on a certain meaning post 9/11."

"Tommy, you fight a different fight. You're dedicated to cleaning up the streets of gang crime, aren't you?"

"Brian, a lot has happened in the past year and a half. I'm going to be transferred to Organized Crime soon. Someone else is taking over for me from the gang crimes unit. As it is, I'll be in a better position to pass on any info I find out."

The two were interrupted by the sound of the Delta's horn being blown in the street in front of the precinct. It was time to go.

"We'll talk more when this is over, Tommy."

"I was hoping you'd say that. Now, get outta here."

"Enjoying your meal, Allie?" asked Brian.

"Brian, I'm having a medium-well Sirloin steak for breakfast. Of course I am enjoying my meal. Life is good right this moment. It's great, in fact." replied Allison.

Brian simply chuckled as he lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and had another sip while his younger sister carved another sliver of beef from her sirloin steak as they waited for 'Rush' at the Midnight Express Diner in Manhattan. The Delta was parked just outside the enclosed glass area where they sat, allowing Allison to keep an eye on her car as she ate. While online reviews for the establishment at which they currently ate rate the diner as merely average with stories of terrible service, that did not seem to be the case today as a blonde waitress no older than twenty-five approached their table with a carafe of fresh java in her hand.

"Is everything all right over here?" she asked with a smile.

"May I just say that the food here is absolutely wonderful and that it's the first decent meal I've had in the last 12 hours?" said Allison after she swallowed her forkful of food.

"Well thank you, miss, I'll be sure to pass on your compliments to the cook." replied the waitress jovially before turning to Brian. "More coffee, sir?"

"Please."

Brian put down his cup as the waitress poured more of the hot caffeinated beverage until the level reached the brim of the cup. Nodding his appreciation, Brian picked up the sugar container and poured a few teaspoons into his cup as the waitress moved off to tend to the other customers.

On the other side of the restaurant, the little bell attached to the main entrance chimed as someone pushed the door open. An Asian man with short black hair wearing an open black leather bomber jacket, black leather gloves, and black jeans with low-cut boots walked in, and his presence did not go unnoticed by Allison, who tapped the sole of Brian's foot with the toe of her own as she scarfed down the remnants of her breakfast. She motioned with her chin over to the door where the Asian man stood, and Brian guessed that this was the man they were waiting for. He waved him over, and the man walked over to their table and sat down with them.

" 'Rush', I presume?" said Brian.

"That's what they call me. And you guys must be Brian and Allison. Tommy sent me."

"Right then. Before we get rolling on this, let's have a little chat to bring you up to speed..."

Elsewhere, Pietro and Elenora were making their way to the subway in order to find the number 6 train, which they would take until they reached Bleecker Street, whereupon they would transfer to the D train, taking them to their destination in Bensonhurst. They had holed up during the night at a cheap hotel, giving the pair time to rest, recover, and at least try to alter their appearance. With the help of Elenora, some painkiller, and a wet towel to bite on, Pietro removed the slug that was still slightly embedded under his skin and quickly cleaned the wound before bandaging it up properly. A good night's rest helped him recover, but the area was still a little tender in the morning.

Now, the pair fell in step with the crowd around them, Pietro now clean-shaven in contrast to his usual semi-beard, and his hair was now brown instead of its usual black while Elenora was now a fiery redhead. The pair walked to the 86 St Subway entrance and descended the stairs to the station, stopping at the MTA Metrocard vending machines.

As they passed through the turnstile, following close behind were a pair of men in nondescript clothing and sunglasses. The two kept a distance from the Section 1 agents as they followed them to the platform. When they saw their targets stop at behind the yellow line before the tracks, they moved in, reaching under their jackets for concealed handguns.

Pietro and Elenora bristled when they felt something poking their backs, mentally swearing when they realized they were being held at gunpoint in the midst of a crowd. One of the men behind them spoke, in English, just audibly enough for them to hear.

"No sudden movements. To the restrooms, both of yous."

With little choice in the matter, the two agents began to walk away from the platform, their minds racing to try and figure out a way, any way to get loose. Behind them, the Number 6 train blasted its horn as it came into the station, and with all the noise, Elenora and Pietro glanced at each other out without moving their heads and knew what they could try.

"NOW!"

The two whirled around on their captors and forced their pistols skyward as the thugs tried in vain to fire their weapons, whose rounds simply went into the ceiling as nearby New Yorkers began to scatter. Pietro managed to eject the magazine on his captor's Glock and kick it into the rushing crowd, leaving the man temporarily without ammunition. Elenora, meanwhile, managed to wrest her opponent's weapon from him and toss it onto the train tracks. Successfully managing to disarm their opponents, they disengaged and dashed for the number 6 train and dove inside just as the recorded voice announcing the closing of the doors came over the speakers.

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please."

A chime sounded twice as the doors closed, while on the platform, the mafia thug with the Glock stuffed a spare magazine into the grip of his pistol and released the slide, attempting to take more shots at his escaping prey before being taken down by NYPD officers. Aboard the train, Fermi and his partner sighed in relief as they departed the station, but both agreed to leave at the next stop. It was going to take longer to reach Elenora's uncle, after all.

"So two people, together. I see; looks like you guys have a valid reason for tagging along." said Rush after Brian explained the situation to him. More coffee had been ordered for the three in the duration, but their cups now sat nearly empty as they spoke.

"Judging by your car, I guess most of your jobs only have enough room for either your employer or whoever you're sent to pick up." said Brian, looking at the 2007 Pontiac Solstice GXP parked outside. "Why not a different vehicle?"

"Generally, my jobs take me places others can't go, and I mean that in the physical sense, as well. 'Sam' is designed uniquely for operating here in NYC."

Allison perked up when she heard the name. "You named your car, too?"

Rush looked at the brunette with a small smile that had a trace of melancholy in it. "Yes. She's named for someone who was very important to me. I take it you named your car as well?"

"Well, not the Lancia Delta out there, at least not yet. I've been so busy constantly tweaking her to run faster that I never stopped to think of a name, but I have an '85 Corolla GT-S with a twincharged MR2 engine named 'Megumi' that's built for drifting and a Mazdaspeed MX-5 named 'Shirley' back home."

"I can certainly understand the tweaking part. But seeing as you guys are working for an acronym-ized intelligence agency that I'm not supposed to know much about, I take it that Delta goes into some hairy situations. Bulletproofed?"

"Rated up to 7.62x54R, and I've got an X-net launcher to tangle up any pursuers." said Allison proudly. "What about 'Sam'?"

"Let's just say that she's got a lot of features you won't find in any showroom anywhere." said Rush with a smirk. "Shall we go?"

"As soon as I pay the bill." said Brian, picking up the receipt and heading to the cashier. Behind him, Rush and Allison left their seats and headed out the door to their respective vehicles as Brian caught up with the two drivers. As Rush turned on his Solstice, he heard chatter on the police scanner that was something of interest.

"All units near 86 St station, we have shots fired on the subway platform, be advised, two suspects from the Verino family have been apprehended, but two persons of interest are still missing, presumably at large. Description of missing persons are one white female with short-cropped red hair of slim build and about 5'5" wearing business casual attire; plus one white male with brown hair, tall build around 6 feet also wearing business casual attire. They were last seen fleeing the station aboard the Number 6 train. All units along this route be on the lookout for the two persons of interest, over."

Rush turned to Allison and Brian. "Think it might be them?"

"Probably." said Brian, thinking on his feet. "It could very well be that they tried to change their appearance but still were almost caught by the mob guys chasing them."

Brian's Blackberry Storm then vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message from Priscilla. He scanned it quickly before putting it away.

"News from back home?" asked Rush.

"More like some additional helpful information. Turns out Elenora has an uncle living in Bensonhurst. You know where that is, Rush?"

"That's all the way in Brooklyn. I know how the train gets there. They were probably going to take the number 6 all the way to Bleecker Street and transfer to the D train for a straight shot to Bensonhurst. We'll have to look along that route and see if we can catch up with them. Worse comes to worst, we find them in Bensonhurst where this uncle of hers is. Let's move. That was only two minutes' drive from here."

"Y-G-B-S-M." grumbled Allison, seemingly nonsensically, but Brian chuckled, knowing what the acronym stood for.

Allison and Brian swiftly entered the Delta and kicked off the engine, following Rush as he pulled away from the curb. As Rush began driving, he felt a strange sort of niggling presence in the back of his mind, but even though he checked his rearview mirror, he couldn't spot a tail of any sort save for Allison and Brian following closely behind him. But time and again, this gut feeling which he privately referred to as his 'mojo' was usually right about something sooner or later. It meant trouble that he would have to deal with in the future, but he had been in many tight spots before. A Wilson Combat Professional Model 9mm semi-automatic sat nestled in a concealed inside-the-waistband holster, and behind his seatback was something from his days with the FDNY.

In less than the estimated two minutes it took to travel several blocks to the subway station where the shooting had taken place. Several police cruisers with their 'gumball lights' flashing and strobing were parked alongside the curb as some curious New Yorkers milled about the scene. Brian and Allison scanned the crowd for anyone matching the description of the currently-disguised Section One pair, but to no avail. Rush pulled up next to Brian's window and spoke.

"There's not much chance of them being here anymore. Next stop is down the road at 77th and Lexington."

"All right, we'll follow you." said Allison, releasing the handbrake as Brian rolled his window up, Rush pulling out in front of them. For some reason, Rush felt his mojo tingling again. Perhaps what triggered it was the presence of a man with a cellphone on the street corner talking specifically about him.

"Yeah, I just saw him. He and some other people in a red car are heading towards 77 and Lexington. Get 'em before they can get there."

Up the road, Rush and the McDonnells just crossed 82nd street when two cargo vans and two large moving trucks suddenly boxed both vehicles in a moving diamond. Before Allison or Rush could react to the threats, the passenger vans' sliding doors opened and assault rifles were aimed at both cars. None of them fired, but Allison was already preparing to bring Brian out of the line of fire despite the bulletproofing in the windows of her Delta. In front of Rush, the front moving van's loading door opened, revealing a masked man with a posterboard. It simply read:

"I could take these bastards out if they start firing." said Allison, glancing around her vehicle. All she would need was her Kimber and one magazine to clear the way.

"I say we follow Rush's lead on this. Let's not have a shootout in the middle of the street." suggested Brian. Obeying her brother, Allison continued driving, following Rush and the vans towards Central Park. They were guided towards an area of the park that was suspiciously-deserted, until they noticed other men were guarding the area, careful to keep any prying eyes away from the vicinity. The group finally came to a stop in a tunnel under a concrete footbridge , where they were ordered to shut off their engines. The gunmen holding the three captive ordered them out at gunpoint, and neither Allison, Brian, or Rush made any sudden moves as they were patted down for any weapons, though as soon as the thugs found Rush's sidearm, one of them removed it from its holster and dangled it in the Asian man's face while clucking his tongue, as if scolding a child. A voice suddenly attracted Rush and the McDonnells' attention.

"Well well, if it isn't Rush- and he's brought some friends, I see!"

"And you are?" asked Rush, facing the short-haired newcomer in black suit and sunglasses.

"I guess my reputation fails to precede me. I'm Nick Verino." answered the young and arrogant man. "And what I'm here to do is... persuade you, shall we say, from going any further with your objective to find the rats who spied on our deal the other day."

"How do you even know that's what I'm trying to do?" asked Rush. "I could simply be out for a drive, for all you know."

"Hah! Get real, Rush. Someone's paying you money to keep these people from getting into trouble. Might it be these two here?" queried Verino.

"That's none of your damn business, Verino." replied Rush. "They're just people who happened to get caught up in your bullshit."

"I highly doubt that." said Verino dismissively, eyeing the aluminium briefcase in the backseat. "Hey, you. What's in the briefcase?" he barked at Brian.

"Well, it was Rush's payment for helping us, but if it's enough to get you gentlemen to leave us alone, we can work something out." said Brian calmly.

"And pray tell, how much are you paying him to help you?"

"Ten grand. You can count it yourself, if you wish."

Verino broke into derisive laughter. "Ten grand? Ha ha ha! Ten grand! That's a cheap price if I ever heard it! I'm afraid you're gonna need more than ten thousand measly dollars to bail you out of this jam, friend."

"Fair enough." Brian shot back. "We have more. Allison, get the rest of the money."

"Understood." Allison turned to the man aiming a MAC-10 at her head. "Excuse me, but do you mind? I need to get to the boot."

"The what?"

"The b- the trunk lid, sorry. I forgot you Americans don't speak the Queen's English."

"Ask me if I care, you limey bitch. Get a move on."

The thug nudged her in her side with the muzzle of his Ingram as she walked to the back of the Delta, opening the tailgate. She reached towards the blue Diplomatic bag and reached inside quickly before withdrawing her hand as a barely-audible click sounded and she turned around to face the thug behind her.

"Catch."

Unconsciously, the thug forgot about his gun to grab hold of the object suddenly tossed to him, giving Allison the precious little time necessary to withdraw her Kimber from its pocket in the bag, slide a magazine in, and chamber a round as she shoved the muzzle into the thug's chest and fired twice, dropping him as the primed smoke grenade rolled out of his hands and onto the walkway, spewing smoke all over the area. With the distraction, Brian freed himself of his captor with a punch to the throat, allowing him to escape as he ducked down the moment the area erupted in gunfire. For his part, Rush also was able to snatch back his Wilson Combat pistol and open up on the thugs in the immediate area, dropping them with the rounds he had in his loaded magazine. Back at the Delta, Brian grabbed the first available weapon he could grip from the diplomatic bag in the confusion of the smoke and pulled out Allison's Tavor Compact, slamming home a 30-round PMAG and locking in the first round as he started laying down fire, dispatching additional Verino family lackeys that came running towards the tunnel. As Allison started running out of ammunition in the magazine of her Kimber, she started firing one-handed as she reached into the diplomatic bag for more magazines, which were accidentally grabbed with the addition of Brian's Kimber Stainless as the spare magazines skittered onto the ground in front of her as the chaos of the gun battle continued. Soon, she was firing guns akimbo with no problems as Brian reloaded the Tavor. In a few seconds, the firefight was over, but Rush was now facing down Verino, who had a Glock aimed at his face. Rush's hand, though, was reaching behind the driver's seat of the Solstice.

"Doesn't matter that you dropped my men, Rush. I still have the drop on you."

"Well, in a second, I'll have the chop on you."

"What the-"

The sound of metal hitting stone was all the warning Brian and Allison had when they turned around to see Verino backed up against the tunnel wall, his Glock cut in half as Rush's old fireman ax barely avoided taking the mobster's head off.

"H-holy shit man, you nearly killed me!" stammered Verino.

"And I will unless you get your ass out of here." said Rush, pulling his ax away from the wall, giving Verino the prompt to run away. However, before he could exit the tunnel, his head was punched through by a .45ACP slug, and Rush whirled around to see Allison holding her emptied and smoking Kimber Custom TLE, having handed Brian's sidearm back to him.

"That wasn't necessary." said Rush, his voice laced with tension.

"Yes, it was." replied Brian. "This was supposed to be a quieter affair. No one aside from you and Tommy is supposed to know that me and Allison are here. If this Verino mob knows that another party is looking for Fermi and Gabrielli, they're going to step things up, making our job more difficult."

Police sirens now permeated the air, and Rush had a decision to make. He placed his fireman's ax back into its storage place and reloaded his Wilson Combat Professional Model as he got into 'Sam' and started her up.

"I'll lead the police one way, you two go the other. We'll meet up somewhere once I've lost the cops."

"How will we stay in touch?" asked Brian. Rush tossed him a small and cheap prepaid mobile phone in response.

"I'll call you when I've gotten away. You guys wait a few minutes until you hear the sirens fade. Then leave in the other direction."

"Got it. See you later."

Rush placed the Pontiac Solstice into gear and peeled out of the tunnel at high speed. As the sound of the sirens began to fade to the other direction slightly, Brian turned to Allison.

"Well, we better deal with the bodies. The cargo vans should have plenty of room inside them."

"Got it. I'll make sure to get rid of any identification, as well." replied Allison, eagerly searching the pockets of the nearest body.

"I'm sure you will." quipped Brian, rolling his eyes as he set to work on other nearby bodies, starting with Nick Verino's.

With police sirens wailing in his ear, Rush poured the coal to Sam as the black two-seat roadster roared out of Central Park and onto West 59th Street, with several NYPD cruisers chasing after him. He shifted up a gear, the turbocharged 2.0L Ecotec engine under the hood shoving power to the rear wheels as he outpaced the squad cars chasing him. Weaving in and out of traffic earned him much angry honking from nearby civilians and certainly startled more than a few typical NYC pedestrians crossing the street despite the 'Don't Walk' signal. Reaching the intersection of 59th and 2nd Avenue, Rush tapped an icon on the console-mounted multi-function touch screen, and in the rear of the Solstice, a small panel slid back to reveal a pair of outlets shaped like the jets of a powerboat, out of which spewed extremely-viscous 10W-60 motor oil. The oil was dispensed for no more than a few seconds before Rush slid Sam's tail out to the left as he turned right onto 2nd Ave in a full opposite-lock drift. The police cars chasing him attempted to make the same turn, but were quickly spun out when they reached the surprise skidpad Rush had left behind. His herd of pursuers thinned, he hung a fast left on East 58th street, and then another left on the onramp for the Queensboro bridge. As soon as the turn straightened out, Rush floored the gas pedal, and Sam rocketed forward as he guided her through traffic, hurtling across the Queensboro Bridge at speeds quickly blowing past 70 miles per hour. Trying to make it to the Queens side of the bridge was going to be difficult, however, as Rush saw more NYPD cruisers in his rear-view mirror, apparently having called in reinforcements, and he could also see more red and blue flashing lights on the other side of the bridge, indicating a potential roadblock up ahead.

"New York's finest coming to play, Sam." said Rush to his vehicle. "Let's show them what we've got and prove you can take a hit."

Rush shifted up a gear and pinned the gas pedal to the firewall, the speedometer quickly reaching 100 miles per hour as he sped headlong into the roadblock up ahead. Police officers armed with AR-15 carbines and shotguns took aim as Rush approached. At twenty meters, they opened fire, aiming for his engine block, but each shot simply appeared to at best scratch the paint and cause a few spiderwebs in the glass of the vehicle.

"The hell is that thing made out of?" shouted one officer. "Fucking Unobtanium or some shit?"

At ten meters, officers began to scatter as Rush, ducking his head down, plowed Sam through a section of the roadblock, shoving a pair of Crown Victoria Police Interceptors that were twice the weight of his Solstice out of the way as he continued driving towards Queens. As the police got over their shock and began to continue chasing him, Rush heard the clatter of train wheels on tracks to his left and saw the R train breezing by as it passed Queensbridge Park. Seeing his chance to escape, Rush swung out to the right-most lane and timed the manner in which the support beams of the bridge breezed by before swinging Sam's nose 180 degrees and charged directly toward the concrete divider, pressing a button to activate dual full-automatic 12-gauge shotguns which let loose a torrent of FRAG-12 HE, 00 Buckshot, and Flechette rounds in a maelstrom of destruction that knocked a few barriers sideways, creating an ad-hoc jump, and even eating away some of the metal on the steel supports of the bridge. As the car caught air and squeezed through one of the widened gaps left by the shot-up bridge beams, four guides extended from the undercarriage as Rush and 'Sam' plowed through the protective chain-link fence and guardrails bordering the tracks and landed onto the rails, fully connecting when Rush lined up Sam straight with the tracks. The guides lifted Solstice off the ground as a busbar extended towards the third rail, providing power to the electric motors driving small wheels mounted in the guides. The police terminated the chase as they saw him slip away back towards Manhattan. As Rush went underground, he palmed the St. Christopher medallion hanging from his rearview mirror.

"Keep watching over me, Sam." said Rush. "This isn't over yet. Not by a long shot."

Back in Manhattan, Allison and Brian were already well away from Central Park even though they didn't hear any sirens approaching. The Delta cruised with the flow of traffic along Broadway, passing through the theater district with its many live stage performances being advertised everywhere they looked.

"Well, at least we got out of there without being seen by the police." noted Brian as the brakes were applied again. "Given, of course, that we took out time with the bodies."

"Glad we did." replied Allison, patting the bulge in the right front pocket of her jeans. "Those guys had a good fifteen grand, all told!"

"Yeah, well don't blame me if you get haunted by ghosts while you sleep." deadpanned Brian. "Vengeful spirits have issues with people looting their corpses."

"Please. I think I have more to worry about from the Guardia di Finanza than the ghosts of miffed mobsters." retorted Allison. Passing another theater from which music emanated, Allison took a glance at the advertised show.

"Thoroughly Modern Millie..."

Brian noted Allison's lingering look at the theater and the poster on the box office and smiled.

"Would you like to see a show when we're done here, Allison?"

"Well, we don't have to..." replied the younger McDonnell shyly. "Just kind of interested, that's all."

"Give it a think or two, Allison. Cousin Tommy wants to spend some time with us after we've sent Fermi and Gabrielli safely on their way."

"I see." noted Allison. "You think he's still upset that we never told him what we do in the first place?"

"I imagine he is. You didn't say it outright, but I think he already knows that if it comes to it, you'll die to protect me; That probably doesn't sit very well with him."

"Are you going to talk to him about it?" asked Allison, switching lanes.

"When this is all done, yes." Brian replied, staring ahead. Suddenly, the cheap prepaid flip phone that Rush gave them rang with its tinny default ringtone, and Brian picked it up immediately.

"McDonnell speaking."

"Where are the two of you?" asked the underworld finder.

"We're currently cruising past the Theater District on Broadway. You?"

"I'm on my way to The Garden. Meet me there."

"Wait, Rush-" began Brian, who was then cut off as the line went dead.

"I was gonna ask him what 'The Garden' was." groused the Irishman. "We're still a bunch of bloody tourists in this town."

"Well, let's see if he ends up at Madison Square Garden. Pretty sure that's what he means." replied Allison, fiddling with the GPS unit mounted on the left-most side of the windshield.

"That would make sense, wouldn't it?" said Brian sheepishly. "Couldn't even figure that out for myself..."

"Getting old, Brian. Your mind is starting to slip a little." quipped Allison with a playful smirk as her adoptive brother defended himself.

"Hey, I'm only thirty, and I look a lot younger than that. I want you to look at my face and tell me that I look like a thirty-year old."

As they were at a stoplight, Allison went ahead and complied with her handler's request and took a moment to study Brian's face. She noticed her handler had a very youthful look about him, as if he weren't all that much older than she. His lean, rather unblemished face showed little sign of age, at most a slight hint of stubble along his jawline. Unconsciously, she felt her face heat up the longer she stared at him, a strange feeling welling up in her stomach that was either indigestion or something much more. Her face reddened until she finally gave Brian an answer.

"Sorry, Brian. I want to say you do, but to tell you the truth, I don't think you look thirty." blurted out Allison, a serious blush on her face. "Besides, I can't lie to you. I feel a little sick just thinking about that."

Must be the conditioning kicking in, thought Brian. Yet when she told me to shut up and keep shooting back in Rivalba, nothing happened. Wonder what it takes to trigger a corrective reaction?

"Don't force yourself, lass." replied the elder McDonnell with a smile, ruffling his younger sister's hair. "Now if you'll indulge me vanity a little, how do you think I look?"

Allison blushed brightly again as the light turned green and she got with the flow of traffic. "I think you look... good."

"Do you think I look handsome?" teased the 'Belfast Bastard'.

"Y-yes..." answered Allison, positively red in the face. Brian laughed a little and rubbed Allison's right shoulder.

"Ha ha! Relax, Allison, relax. I'm just having a bit of fun with you, is all. All right then, let's get to Madison Square Garden."

5 minutes later, Allison pulled the Delta in behind Sam parked outside Brother Jimmy's Burger Shack across from the Madison Square Garden complex. The fratello walked into the restaurant to find Rush sitting down to a lunch of a bacon cheeseburger and tater tots. At this, Allison looked towards Brian, who gave her a silent nod, and the cyborg went to order lunch for the both of them as well. The Irishman, meanwhile, went to sit down with the unlicensed investigator.

"I see you gave the rozzers the slip." said Brian.

"I know the city better than they do. It was easy, when combined with Sam." replied Rush.

"Noticed a lot of scuff marks on her when Allison and I came in. You run into trouble?"

"Try a road block's worth of 12-gauge shotguns and AR-15 carbines."

Brian was stunned. "And all your car has to show for it is a few scuffs and scratches? What the bloody hell is the bodywork made of, and where can we get that for the Delta?"

"My own personal triple-layer polymer coating protects the bodywork and glass on Sam. I know it'll bounce away rifle, shotgun, and pistol rounds, but if I run into anti-tank weaponry, she's still nimble enough to dodge. I have yet to encounter anything above 7.62 NATO, though. Hope I don't have to."

At that point, Allison joined the men, having arrived with two meals similar to that which Rush was currently dining on. Brian took his basket and unwrapped his burger, looking at what had been piled on.

"Oh good, you got the works." Brian noted.

"A good burger should have all the fixings at least the first time out. You taught me that, Brian." replied Allison, popping a tater tot into her mouth and then smiling as she savored the taste.

As they got to eating, Allison asked Rush about their next move.

"So, do we go to Bensonhurst next?"

"From a strategic standpoint, that's the best idea to go with. However, we'll need to split up. You guys watch the address where your pals are going for any sign of them, I'll scour all the routes that lead to Bensonhurst, seeing as I know the city better." stated Rush.

"Sounds like a solid plan." replied Allison. "By the way, you have any trouble with the police?"

"Nothing Sam's bodywork and my driving couldn't deal with. And changing license plates certainly doesn't hurt."

Allison looked at 'Sam' outside and noticed that the license plate on the scuffed-up Pontiac Solstice had indeed changed from a vanity plate reading 'SAM' to a more befuddling '54AMM1'. Presumably, this plate had not yet been used by Rush.

The three ate in silence for a few moments as Allison looked at the Solstice parked in front of her Delta. Then, she turned to Rush with a question.

"Uh, Mr. Rush?"

"Yes?"

"Is there a story behind Sam, exactly?"

The question set off an awkward silence as Rush put down his burger and stared out the window a few seconds. Brian gently elbowed Allison, and as she turned to face him, he shook his head disapprovingly, prompting Allison to turn back to Rush.

"You know what, it's okay—if it's not something you want to talk about, you don't have to."

Rush turned back to Allison and waved his hand to clear her of any guilt. "It's fine; It's just that no one's really asked me about that seriously. To answer your question, yeah... Sam's got a history behind her..."

The next few minutes were spent with Rush pouring out a chunk of his personal life and past. He told them of his past as a bike messenger named Diego Zhao (which helped him learn the geography of New York City), then as an FDNY Firefighter. He told the McDonnells of his past relationship with a woman named Maggie Flynn and her daughter, Samantha, and how he often took Samantha to school in the very same Pontiac Solstice parked out front, and how Samantha would joke about Rush simply hanging onto the car until she was old enough to drive. He revealed how one night, he and Maggie left Samantha with a babysitter for a night out on the town, only to find Maggie's apartment engulfed in flames upon their return. Rush also revealed the story of how he went into the fire with no equipment despite protests from the hook and ladder company on-scene, and how he had found Samantha hiding in a closet. They attempted to get back out, but as they made for the exits, the floor collapsed beneath them, and that was the end of it. When Rush came to, he was hooked up to oxygen, considered lucky to be alive. Samantha, however, had not been so fortuitous. In the months to follow, Rush would lose his job as well as Maggie, leaving him only with his skills and his car. He went underground, even in the literal sense, and eventually became the person to find if someone was lost and the clock was ticking.

When the story had ended, Allison and Brian were rendered speechless. Then, the young cyborg offered her condolences, unsure as to what else to do.

"Rush, I'm so sorry to hear about Samantha... I shouldn't have brought up something so personal."

"Don't worry about it." replied Rush. "Samantha's death is the reason I keep doing what I do. This job has people appeal to three things- my wallet, my heart, and my gut, in no order of importance. I make a living off of this job, but I don't always have to collect on a paycheck."

"You do pro bono work?" asked Brian.

"Sometimes." answered Rush. "Especially if it involves kids. But whatever the case, I never bring up money first."

"You're doing a job for a government, Rush. It's only right you get compensated somehow." replied Brian.

"Well, I better get back on the clock, then." finished Rush, crumpling his burger wrapper. "You guys head to the address; I'll search around en route in case they're not there yet."

"And we'll call if they're already there." said Allison.

Meanwhile, at 1795 78th Street in Bensonhurst, two elderly gentlemen and two younger men sat at a dining table playing poker, looking to outfox each other with the superior hand. A colorful stack of poker chips sat in their midst, all of them having gone 'all in'. After a tense few moments of staring one another down, the confident younger men went first.

"Two pairs." revealed a young man with two fours and two nines.

"Full house, read 'em and weep." said the other, showing three tens and two fives.

"You can't beat me, boys. Straight. Flush." retorted a balding, rotund and stocky man, laying down a 6,7,8,9, and 10 of clubs. All eyes the turned to the remaining man. "Got anything, Al?"

"Maybe." smiled the gradually-graying man across the table as he laid down his hand, revealing a 10, Jack, King, Queen, and Ace, all Diamonds. "Royal Flush."

The others at the table groaned in disappointment, all of them having been beaten as 84-year-old Alfonso Gabrielli raked in all the poker chips in the center of the table while the other men placed their cards in the middle to be shuffled by the man who had the straight flush.

"You know something, Al? I dunno how ya do it, but none of us can't win nothin' when we play poker with you. This shit's startin' to get old." complained 85-year old former mafia don Benito 'Beans' Bagnanno.

"Just be thankful you ain't playing for money, Beans. I'd-a cleaned you out a long time ago." retorted Alfonso. "Frankly, I'm surprised you still remember how to play. Ain't you got that old-timer's disease?"

"I ain't entirely gone, Al. From what I've noticed, I only start lapsing into Corsican when I haven't had a Fiadone in a long while."

"Boys?" called a twenty-something blonde woman from the kitchen. "The antipasto is ready!"

"We'll be right there, Trinity!" replied Beans before the doorbell suddenly rang.

"I'll get it, Beans. You and the boys go help your granddaughter."

Alfonso went to answer the door and looked into the peephole, surprised to find who was waiting on the other side- it was his favorite niece and a companion of hers, neither of whom he had expected to show up at his doorstep. Opening the door, he greeted the new visitors.

"Ciao, Zio Alfonso!" greeted the young woman.

"Elenora? My goodness, if it isn't my favorite niece!" cheered Alfonso in response, hugging his niece. "I see you changed your hair-And who's this young man with you?"

"Ah, Pleased to meet you, Signor Gabrielli. I'm Pietro Fermi- I work with Elenora." said the woman's partner, shaking the older man's hand.

"Who is it, Al?" called Beans from the kitchen.

"Make room for two more, Beans! My niece and her friend are paying me a visit!"

Turning back to Elenora and Pietro, the elder Gabrielli ushered the two Section One agents into his home.

"Come on in, you two. We're sitting down to the beginning of lunch." said Alfonso, letting Elenora and Pietro inside. Elenora immediately turned to her partner.

"You go sit down with my uncle and his friends. I think someone might need help in the kitchen."

"But-"

"Sit, Pietro. I'll help bring the food out."

Knowing better than to argue, Pietro went to join Alfonso and Beans at the table, feeling a bit useless. Alfonso, meanwhile, wasted no time introducing the young man he'd barely met to his friend.

"Beans, this is Pietro Fermi. He works with my niece, Elenora. Pietro, this is Benito 'Beans' Bagnanno, an old friend of mine, we go waaay back."

"Nice to meet you, Signor Bagnanno." greeted Pietro, shaking Beans' hand firmly, getting the same response in return.

"Signor? You must be from the old country, huh? Which part?" asked Beans.

"Rome, sir."

"Rome? Good place, nice and centralized, and you don't have to worry too much about getting mixed up with those Camorristas and Sicilians with the mob, or those Padanians from the north."

"Actually, we have to worry about the Padanians the most." replied Pietro. "Most of their attacks have increased in Rome."

"You government-types must have it rough." noted Beans, catching Pietro off guard.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb, ragazzo." said Beans. "I used to be a mafia don- you don't get there without knowing how to read people. As soon as I saw you walk in, I figured you were probably a cop or something."

"And I already know Elenora works a public security job, so I figured you probably do, as well." added Alfonso. "In fact, you're carrying when you really shouldn't be right now, aren't you?"

"Nothing escapes you, Signor Gabrielli." replied Pietro, flashing the SIG tucked into his waistband holster. "Sorry for bringing weapons into your home, but Elenora and I are currently in a bit of a jam."

"I had a feeling. Elenora rarely ever visits, but if she was going to, she usually calls ahead. I have a feeling you two are involved in something big."

"Got that right. We had to come here because we needed a safe place to make a call back to our chief and let him know we're alive."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the Verino Mob, would it?" asked Beans offhand.

"Actually it does... you've heard about them?"

"Bunch of upstarts looking to get in good with the heavy hitters back in Italy. Those scumbags deal in guns, Heroin, and human trafficking. I hear a lot of kids are involved in that last part—makes me sick, that they'd willingly do that stuff to children." spat Beans.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Trinity, Elenora, and Beans' younger companions were getting the plates ready for the antipasto while the main courses of lasagna and Ziti casserole baked towards their finished state.

"I don't believe we've met." said Trinity towards Elenora. "I'm Trinity Bagnanno. The fat old guy in the living room is my grandpa."

"Elenora Gabrielli. As you might guess, the other elder gentleman's my uncle." replied the Section One Agent, shaking Trinity's free hand with her own.

"Nice to meet you, Elenora! I noticed you have a bit of an accent. Are you from Italy?"

"Yes, actually. I wanted to surprise my uncle, but I didn't know he had guests over..."

"Don't worry about it, we cook too much for ourselves, anyway."

The two young women chatted as they continued setting up for lunch, and soon, the occupants of Alfonso Gabrielli's town house sat down to a nice meal.

It was about half an hour later when Allison and Brian arrived in the Delta at the address given to them by Priscilla's e-mail.

"Here it is. 1795 78th Street." said Brian, looking at the house.

"So what, do we just knock on the door and see if they're there?" asked Allison.

"We should establish contact, first. If they're not there, we don't want to raise any sort of suspicion. Let me talk to Priscilla real quick."

Brian found Priscilla on the contacts list of his Blackberry Storm and dialed the number immediately. Halfway across the world, it was around 5 in the afternoon when Priscilla picked up her office line.

"Meleori."

"Priscilla? Brian. Allison and I are at the address you provided, but we don't know definitively if Fermi and Gabrielli are there. We have one of Tommy's people working with us who knows the city better scouring all possible routes going into Bensonhurst to this very location, but since we're here, we need to go check. I don't want to do anything that might seem suspicious."

"Good news about that, Brian. Gabrielli made a call earlier to Draghi himself, and now they're expecting an Irishman and his little sister to show up in a red Lancia any time soon." replied Priscilla with a grin Brian could easily envision on the other end of the line.

"Excellent, Pris. Looks like we're knocking on the door, then."

Brian ended the call and motioned for Allison to lead the way, smiling as he gestured towards the house. The two exited the Delta and secured the car behind them as they walked up the stoop and right up to the door.

Inside, Trinity and Pietro had gone back into the kitchen to fetch the main course, leaving Elenora, Beans and his men, and Alfonso at the table. There was a knock at the door, prompting the female Section One agent to excuse herself from the table and go to the door. Looking through the window and then the peephole, she was surprised to find Brian and Allison at the doorstep less than an hour after her call.

"Well, you two are certainly here fast." said Elenora as she greeted the two.

"Dividing and conquering with the help of a local tends to expedite things. Just need to pay him, now." replied Brian. "We gotta call him up and let him know we're with you guys now."

"Can you trust this local? How do you know he's not working with the mob?" asked Elenora, ushering Brian and Allison inside.

"Three things- he comes recommended by my cousin, who while a police officer, has used his services before when red tape got in the way. Second, he helped us out of a jam in Central Park with the Verino mob when they got the drop on us while looking for you. Third, he led the cops away right afterwards using one hell of a modified Pontiac Solstice." explained Brian, as he and Allison walked with Elenora towards the dining room.

"A Pontiac Solstice? Son, you wouldn't be talking about a fellow named 'Rush', would you?" asked Beans, having overheard the third bit of Brian's explanation.

"Yes, actually. And you are-?"

"Oh, where are my manners?" said Elenora, starting to gesture to the men seated around the table. "Brian, this man you just spoke to is Mr. Benito Bagnanno. He's a friend of this man next to him, my uncle Alfonso. Zio Alfonso, Mr. Bagnanno, these two are some more of my co-workers, Brian McDonnell and his partner, Allison."

"Pleasure to meet you gentlemen." replied Brian, shaking hands with the two.

"Your accent-" noted Beans as Brian took his hand away. "You Irish?"

"Raised Northern Irish, but technically half-British, too." replied Brian. "Now, you know Rush, as well?"

"That I do." replied Beans. "He saved my life once. Kept me alive to turn state's on the Deluzzi family. That was more or less when I wanted out of the game... I was also starting to develop my 'old-timer's' problem at the time- I didn't reboot and start making sense until he managed to get me a fiadone. It's not such a big deal now, but every so often, it... it gets a little worse. That's why I'm still trying to remember what I can whenever I can."

" 'Old-timer's' disease?" asked Allison.

"He means Alzheimer's disease, Allison. Definitely one of the worse things out there to be afflicted with." explained Brian.

"Oh."

"Hey, don't you start feeling sorry for me, now." said Beans. "Besides, since you two are here, you might as well enjoy some lunch with us."

"That's right." added Alfonso. "The two of you dropped in right after the antipasto. How does Baked Ziti and Lasagna sound to you folks?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose." said Brian. "Actually, we just had burgers and tater tots over at Brother Jimmy's."

"Consider it an early dinner, then?" suggested Alfonso. "Besides, your partner there's looking a little thin in the skin."

"Whoa, no need to trouble yourself on my account!" said Allison, waving her hands in apology.

"Nonsense, there's plenty to go around; a growing girl like you needs to eat!"

Allison felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Brian nodding his assent.

"Go ahead, Allison. I still need to call Rush."

As Allison went to join the others at the dining table, Brian pulled out the prepaid phone Rush had given him and stepped out onto the stoop to make his call.

On the other end of the line, Rush had just proceeded onto the Brooklyn Bridge when his in-dash console displayed that he was receiving a call.

"You've got Rush."

"Rush, it's Brian. We found our people at the address. Wanna come on over and wrap this up?"

"I'll be there soonest."

"By the way, an old friend of yours is here. Older bloke by the name of 'Beans' Bagnanno? Sound familiar?"

"Very familiar. How's he doing? He speaking Corsican?"

"English, mate. He seems to be doing well. Why not stop by for a little and catch up?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

Brian ended the call and clasped the clamshell phone shut, turning around to head inside. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up, and he whirled around, reaching for his Kimber as he scanned for any threats. Seeing none, however, he shook off any strange feelings and retreated inside the house, unaware of a black Cadillac Catera inconspicuously parked at the corner up the street with someone standing at one of its windows.

"See? That's the place where I saw those two go!" said a nervous, skinny man to the men inside the Cadillac.

"You did pretty good, Joey. Here's somethin' fer yer troubles." replied the driver, handing the man a fifty-dollar bill. The skinny man ran off, and the driver turned to his passenger.

"Call the boys. We're gonna end this shit tonight."

Back inside the house, Brian found Allison talking to Beans as they dug into the Baked Ziti dished out onto their plates, oozing with mozzarella cheese and chock full of Italian sausage. Brian saw Pietro just as he sat down, Elenora's partner nodding at the Irishman, who gave him a small wave. The young blonde sitting next to Pietro, however, caught his eye, and Brian sat down across from her as he introduced himself.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met. I'm Brian McDonnell, I work with Elenora and Pietro." greeted Brian.

"Nice to meet you, Brian! I'm Trinity Bagnanno. The older man talking with that girl there is my grandfather."

"Pleased to meet you, Trinity. And I must say, Mr. Bagnanno should be proud to have such a lovely granddaughter." complimented the Irishman with a smile.

As they started chatting amicably, at the other end of the table, Beans shot a wary glance at Brian as Allison talked with him about Rush.

"Say- is your partner hitting on my granddaughter?"

"He's just being friendly- though I will admit it makes me a bit jealous to see him talking to other women. You might say he's my 'heterosexual life partner', hehe!" joked Allison, trying to steer Beans' attention back to the subject at hand. "Anyway, we were talking about Rush?"

"Oh, right. Anyhow, while I told Rush that I don't like the way he drives, he and that car of his saved my ass. It's bulletproof, fast, and the damn kid seems to have taken a page from James Bond."

That caught Allison's interest. "Really? What exactly does that mean?"

"Well, not only is his car nigh-indestructible even though it has an open top all the time, but when we were being chased along Luquer Street by some Deluzzi thugs, that tricky bastard deployed a goddamn oil slick to lose them."

"No way! An oil slick dispenser? What else does he have?"

"I don't know, kid- that was all I saw him use. But I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he has missile launchers or machine guns in the damn thing."

"That settles it- I'm asking him what's under the hood when he gets here."

"How'd you learn about him, anyway?"

Allison thought carefully before answering. "My partner has a cousin in the NYPD's 42nd precinct. Apparently, the man has worked with Rush before. We stopped in his office, he called up Rush for us, and it went from there."

"Well, until you guys are safely at an airport, stick with him. He'll keep you all safe."

"Is your partner's cousin Tommy McDonnell, by any chance?" asked Alfonso, taking a forkful of Lasagna.

"Yeah... You know him?"

"Know him? I was his Little League Coach until the age of twelve, and then I was his baseball coach in high school. We go back a ways. Good kid. How's he doing nowadays?"

"He's doing well; getting ready to transfer over to the Organized Crime Unit."

"Shit, I better make myself scarce, then!" said Beans before chuckling- the old man was already out of the business of being a mobster, and just wanted to spend the rest of his days doting on his granddaughter and the rest of her family and playing cards with Alfonso.

Suddenly, everyone's attention was drawn by the sound of engines racing on the street in front of their house and the screech of tires. Allison's eyes saw two black Chevrolet Express vans come to a halt outside, the side doors sliding open and the unmistakable silhouette of Kalashnikov AKM assault rifles, having just enough time to warn everyone.

"DOWN!"

Everyone at the table dropped to the floor as automatic weapons fire came bursting into the living room, shattering the windows, ripping the curtains and blinds, and shattering anything unfortunate enough to be porcelain or glass and in the path of the incoming rounds. Their interrupted meals now littered the floor as the heavy oak dining table splintered but held when a few incoming rifle rounds impacted on the surface. As a pause in the firing happened, Beans' men got to a knee, drew their Glocks, and started returning fire. Allison and Brian also drew their Kimbers and took them off safety as Elenora and Pietro drew their own weapons and moved to spirit off Alfonso, Beans, and Trinity to a safer location in the house. However, Alfonso had other plans. Doing a textbook infantry low crawl on his belly under the line of fire, he made his way towards a section of wall in his house next to a closet and gave it a good thump with his fist, bringing down a hidden weapon cache mounted on a false wall panel that swung down. Weapons found on the tray included an M1 Garand, an M2 Carbine, an M14 Battle Rifle, an M3A1 'Grease Gun', a Winchester Model 12 Shotgun, a Colt M1911A1, and an M1918 BAR Light Machine Gun. To even things up, all the weapons came with plenty of spare ammunition- at least 150 rounds of spare ammunition were available for each weapon, with the exception of the Model 12, which just had a large pouch full of 12-gauge shells, and the Colt, which had five spare magazines. Beans saw the weapons and shouted to his friend over the gunfire.

"Hey Al! Where the hell did all that iron come from?"

"Good ol' Uncle Sam takes care of his Misguided Children!" replied Alfonso as he took down the Garand and loaded the first of several 8-round en-bloc clips, laying down the bandolier in front of him. As he made his weapon ready, Beans' bodyguards reloaded and stayed down, and then the din stopped as Brian motioned to Allison to reload and wait. They saw the shadows of more hostiles approaching the door, and Alfonso quickly fed 6 shotshells into the Model 12 before sliding it and the pouch of spare shells over to Allison and the M3 plus its spare magazines over to Brian. Beans' men quickly grabbed the remaining M14 and M1911A1.

"You guys know how to use those, right?" asked Alfonso.

"Yes, but why?" asked Brian, loading a 30-round magazine. Across from him, Allison placed her Kimber on the floor and aimed the Winchester at the front door, which was now under attack by feet and gunshots. It was holding, but only for a few seconds more.

"If you have heavier firepower, use it if you can. Those Kimbers you two have are nice, but you're gonna end up using all your ammo before you finish them all off. Besides, what I've given you is a proper gun."

"No offense, sir, but I used an MP5 when I was in the SAS for a reason."

The door began to start buckling, and Alfonso, Allison, Beans' men, and Brian all focused on the door again, Alfonso training his M1 Garand on the door.

"Now then... I'll show these mafia punks why you don't fuck with a Jarhead who landed at Inchon..."

The front door finally gave way, Verino thugs streaming inside the house, where they were promptly greeted by a hail of 9mm Parabellum, .45ACP, 00 buckshot, 7.62 NATO, and .30-06 ammunition. Alfonso quickly worked his way through the 8-round clip, which flew out with a distinct ping as he reloaded his Garand the moment the spent clip flew out the top, the bolt slamming itself home as he re-shouldered the weapon. Fire came pouring in from the front again as more thugs tried making their way inside through the broken windows as well as the door, but like before, Allison, Brian, the Bagnanno men, and Alfonso fatally bathed them with lead for their efforts. Allison, having slam-fired the Winchester to empty, opened the still-filled shotshell pouch to reload.

"Allison, check the back. Mr. Gabrielli and I have the front covered—you two, go check on your boss." Brian ordered to Allison and Beans' men.

"Cover us, then?" asked Allison.

"I got you covered on three, kid." said Alfonso, now readying the BAR. "One... Two... Three!"

Brian and Alfonso popped up from behind cover, rattling off prolonged bursts from their weapons as Beans' men went upstairs while Allison picked up her Kimber and went around to the backdoor, where she spotted more Verino thugs trying to enter the residence as she looked through the kitchen window. Training the Winchester on them, she racked the pump, garnering their attention, and then let loose a shell into their group at head level, killing one of them and sending a few more tumbling backwards as she continued firing into the small group. Rushing out the back door, Allison followed the small concrete walkway towards the alley leading to the street, finding a perfect bottleneck to set up and start plugging away as if she were shooting fish in a barrel. Each man who attempted to make his way up was met with a shotgun blast to the face, and six men met their end this way before Allison had to reload, giving some thugs time to return fire and advance. A single 9mm bullet winged Allison's right shoulder, which was of no consequence as she continued shooting. As the firefight dragged on, Allison started to wonder where Rush was when the roar of an engine preceded the sight of a Verino thug being tossed into the air as he was rammed by Sam, and as Allison knew, where Sam was, Rush was right there with her.

Inside the house, Brian watched as Sam plowed into a group of thugs; the ones trying to enter the house now focused their fire on Rush and Sam, giving Brian and Alfonso ample opportunity to destroy their distracted adversaries from behind, which they did with swift brutality.

The two stopped firing, listening for any more activity. It sounded like things were all clear. Brian called out, just to be sure.

"Pietro, Elenora! Where are you guys, and are you okay?"

"We're fine upstairs, Brian!" answered Elenora. "Mr. Bagnanno, his men, and Trinity are okay, as well!"

"I'll go find Allison." said Brian, placing the Grease Gun back on the weapon rack. Kimber drawn, he went out the backdoor and down the walkway to the alley, where he spotted Allison looking towards the street. Being careful not to sneak up on her, he got her attention.

"You all right?"

Allison turned her head first, though her body tensed and gripped the shotgun in her hands. Upon seeing it was Brian, she relaxed and gave her reply.

"Aside from a flesh wound in the shoulder, I'm okay- nothing some spray bandage can't patch up."

Brian nodded in acknowledgment. "Let's get to the Delta, then. Pretty sure we have a can in there."

"Everyone inside okay?" asked Allison, walking towards the street.

"You're pretty much the only one on our side with any holes in them, Allison." said Brian.

"Makes me unique!" joked Allison, causing Brian to shake his head. As they walked into the street, Rush got out of his Solstice, Wilson Combat pistol in hand.

"Sorry I'm late. You guys all right?"

"We're fine, and Allison just has a flesh wound we're about to deal with using some spray bandage."

"You found your friends?"

"Yes, they're still in the house right now. We'll get Allison patched up and then bugger off to LaGuardia."

"I'll keep the engine running. I have a feeling this isn't the end of the bullets flying, yet."

"All right. I'll head inside. Allison- tend to that wound."

With a nod, Allison went to the Delta, which miraculously had not been hit during the shootout scant minutes ago. Brian went inside to check on the occupants of Alfonso Gabrielli's home. Upon entering the living room, he happened to catch Alfonso hanging up the phone as he spoke to Beans and Elenora.

"I got off the phone with Tommy- he's sending his people over here to secure the scene."

"You must know my cousin." said Brian. "Then you're in good hands, Mr. Gabrielli. But Allison and I have to leave with Pietro and your niece. Things aren't safe here anymore. Not for them."

"Kid, make sure you stick with Rush." said Beans. "Until you get Al's niece and her partner aboard a one-way trip to Italy, they're in it deep, and those Verino guys are pretty damn hacked off at them. You do what Rush says, they'll make it out of the Big Apple in one piece."

"I understand, Mister Bagnanno. And that's precisely why we have to go, now."

A few moments later, Brian, Pietro, and Elenora were out the door, having said goodbye to their hosts. Outside, Allison was finishing her chat with Rush, who was handing her a folded-up slip of paper.

"What's this?" asked Allison.

"That would be the chemical recipe for the triple-layer polymer coating that I use with Sam." replied Rush. "Apply that to your Delta there, and you should have fairly decent protection without adding too much weight."

"But—I can't take this!"

"Yes, you can—and you should. Look, I don't really have an idea of what line of work you do, nor do I really want to know. But I can see that you've trained to get into sketchy situations. Think of this recipe as insurance. Besides, you'll need every card you can possibly play when everything goes sideways."

"I... I don't know how to thank you, Rush."

"You can thank me by using that recipe wisely—and not letting it fall into the wrong hands."

"I won't let you down, Rush!"

"Good to hear."

Brian, Pietro, and Elenora descended the stoop stairs and went into the street.

"We ready to go?" asked Brian.

"Sam's ready, I'm ready." replied Rush.

"I'll fire up the Delta." added Allison, going to the red hot hatch. She was about to turn the key when her ears picked up the thrum of helicopter rotor blades that was growing louder with each second. She focused on her task again and turned the ignition key, resulting in a momentary whir of the starter before the Lancia roared to life.

"Get in!"

Pietro and Elenora piled into the backseat of the Delta as Brian took his place up front after stopping at the rear of the Delta to grab his HK416 and a few spare magazines out of the 'diplomatic bag', seating a magazine and chambering a round. Before they could leave, Beans came out onto the stoop with his men, Trinity, and Alfonso.

"Rush!" Beans called to the Asian man.

"Mr. Bagnanno?"

"Take good care of our friends!"

"I will, sir."

With Rush in front of them, the two cars escaped the scene as police sirens wailed in the distance. Rush knew the most direct route was to take the highway. Normally, it would take thirty minutes, but with the way they were driving, Rush was hoping they would make it in fifteen—and without running into trouble.

As the two-car convoy pulled onto the eastbound side of the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, Rush felt the familiar tingle at the back of his head, and he checked his rearview mirror. Scanning the cars behind him and the McDonnells' Delta, he caught sight of a gray Mercedes-Benz E320 keeping a certain distance behind them. Two lanes over was a blue BMW 528i. Both were completely occupied by four grown male adults—and as he saw when one of them moved, they were armed with assault rifles. Rush quickly dialed up the phone he had given Brian.

"What's up, Rush?" asked Brian upon picking up.

"We've got company. The blue Beemer and the gray Merc behind you. They're holding their distance, but they're armed."

"Damn. Should I get ready for a firefight?" These words were not lost on Allison, Elenora, and Pietro, their attention grabbed by Brian's response.

"No. You get ready to floor it all the way to LaGuardia if there's any shooting. Sam and I will run interference. Use your weapons only as a last resort. I think having the police involved in your particular case will only complicate things further." replied Rush."

"What about you, Rush?"

"What about me?"

"How do you intend to fight these tossers?"

"Like I said before—Sam has a few tricks under the hood. Deadly tricks. Now get ready to go—they're making their move."

As Rush ended the call, the BMW and Mercedes-Benz began accelerating towards them. Allison reached for her Kimber, but Brian stopped her.

"I'm sure you heard Rush on the phone. We run, not fight in this scenario. Concentrate on losing these bastards through traffic—but watch out for the old bill."

"Yes, Brian."

As the BMW and the Benz caught up, the windows rolled down and muzzles were pointed out the window, instinctively causing Elenora and Pietro to duck down in the rear seat. Allison waited a beat before shifting up and slamming the gas pedal to the firewall, causing the Delta to leap forward as Rush simultaneously moved out of the way and dropped back between the two cars full of gunmen. He pulled the wheel left to get behind the Mercedes-Benz first and opened fire with the dual automatic shotguns, which quickly tore the sedan and its occupants to shreds, the car slewing to the left into the Jersey barrier and coming to a grinding halt. The men in the BMW accelerated, their attention partly on Rush, partly on the Delta that was getting away. Rifle fire began pinging off of Sam's bodywork once again as he accelerated and aimed for the left-rear corner of the BMW, forcing the sedan into a slide—the classic PIT maneuver, as it were. As the blue BMW spun, Rush opened up with the dual 12-gauges again, broadsiding the left side of the car at close range, creating shrapnel out of the bodywork which cut into the men inside. The BMW began to roll over violently, and Rush guided Sam out from behind the crashing BMW and accelerated past to go and re-join the McDonnells who had sprinted down the road when the shooting began.

Further up the Expressway, Allison had settled into a high-speed cruise of around eighty miles per hour, fairly certain they were out of danger, at least for the time being.

"Well, Rush told us to run... hope he's all right." said Allison.

"I'm confident he is. But nonetheless, getting to LaGuardia is our priority."

Allison was about to say something when she heard the thrum of helicopter blades once again—and as she looked in her rearview mirror, her eyes widened to spot a red Eurocopter AS350 bearing down on them with a door gunner wielding an M240 Light Machine Gun.

"Y-G-B-S-M! Mr. Pietro, Ms. Elenora, get down and hang on!"

Allison increased throttle once again as the precious cargo in the back ducked their heads down below the line of fire as the door gunner in the AS350 began shooting, bullets chewing small bits out of the asphalt. Allison began taking a serpentine pattern trying to avoid the incoming rounds, which worked until a few of them began scoring hits on the Delta's bodywork. She accelerated again in a straight line to try and escape the helicopter, but its higher speed allowed the shooter to keep up with them.

"Dammit, how do I shake this guy?" yelled Allison over the din.

"Keep driving, Allie! Just focus on getting to LaGuardia!" replied Brian, holding back the urge to open fire on the helicopter—he still had to save his ammunition as a last resort.

500 feet back, Rush was closing the distance between himself and the McDonnells when he saw the helicopter clearly chasing them. With his forward-firing shotguns unable to be independently aimed upwards, he would have to find a means of either getting Sam to launch upwards at an angle that he could attack from, or somehow goad the helicopter into focusing on him and getting it to stop or hover. Shifting into sixth gear, he floored the gas pedal to catch up with the Delta ahead, and as he caught up to the fast-moving AS350, he drew his Wilson Combat and started taking potshots at the helicopter just to get the attention of those onboard. Sure enough, the attacking mafia helicopter rotated so that the door gunner could bring his M240 to bear on himself and Sam. Rush swerved out of the door gunner's firing vectors and searched around for a way to finally end the madness. Seeing none, he did the last thing anyone would do—he brought Sam to a complete halt. The helicopter also slowed and began to hover as Rush ducked down the moment the door gunner resumed firing, Sam's bodywork taking a serious beating from the incoming rounds. Rush took hold of a small joystick near the handbrake and launched a miniature version of Sam—affectionately called 'Little Sammi'-from the bottom of the car, and a solid-fuel rocket motor propelled the little car forward. As soon as he saw it pass under the fuselage of the helicopter, he thumbed the button on top of the joystick, detonating the R/C car's built-in plastic explosives. The force of the explosion rocked the helicopter, sending it tumbling backwards, the tail rotor scraping the outside concrete barrier of the expressway, damaging it and causing the aircraft to spin violently before collapsing onto the pavement and exploding in a ball of fire. Rush emerged from under the dashboard, dusted himself off, and placed Sam into gear, driving off after the McDonnells.

Allison had seen it all in her rearview mirror and was awestruck. "I don't know what Rush did," said Allison, "But that was a hell of a boom."

"I certainly hope that's the end of that particular excitement." said Brian. "We need to get these two out of the country sharpish."

Rush blew by and went into their lane, and Allison accordingly kept pace with the man's black Solstice all the way to LaGuardia. Somehow, they managed not to attract the attention of New York's finest or the highway patrol despite racing down the highway with the speedometer needle hovering close to ninety miles an hour.

Upon pulling into the Warhawk Military Aviation hangar some twenty minutes later, Allison let her Delta's turbo spin down as Elenora and Pietro got out of the backseat, incredulous that the ride was over and they were in one piece. Rush pulled up next to them as Brian got out and went to the back of the Delta and retrieved the briefcase with the $10,000 in cash. He handed it over to Rush and shook the man's hand.

"Thanks for getting us here in one piece. This would have been a much more difficult mission without you."

"You're welcome." replied Rush. "And please pass on my thanks to Tommy."

"Will do."

Meanwhile, Allison was trying to find Yuri and Margarita, and she eventually found them napping on the bench seats of the IL-76 they flew in on.

"Uh, guys?" asked Allison softly.

Margarita stirred to answer while Yuri still snored away. Rubbing her eyes, she saw Allison and became more alert.

"What's up, Allison? Did you finish your mission?"

"More or less. You guys get enough rest? We need to get Mr. Fermi and Ms. Gabrielli out of the country ASAP."

"We're not ready to leave yet, Allison. However, we have another crew from Australia getting ready to make a flight to Italy. If you and Brian aren't going back yet, but the other two have to get going, I recommend sticking them on that flight."

"Who are the pilots?"

"Ask around for 'Wes and Nat'. They're flying out a G650 after transporting some VIPs from earlier in the week."

Two new voices joined the conversation. "You talking 'bout us, Marge?" asked an Australian accent from behind Allison. She turned around to see a black-haired male pilot with rectangular glasses and a brown-haired female co-pilot whose hair was tied in a ponytail; both wearing the standard Olive Drab flightsuit typical of Warhawk Military Aviation's pilots.

"That I am, Wes." replied Margarita, addressing the male of the pair. "Brian and Allison don't seem to be planning on going home right this minute, but the people they were sent in to find are. You mind taking the other two with you back to Pratica di Mare?"

"Did the boss say if that was all right?" asked Nat.

"Well, the boss is currently on a mission with 'the kids', so she's not exactly available for comment. However, she did leave Yuri and I the contact info for the SWA guys in charge of this op, so let me give them a call..."

About a minute later, Margarita was finishing off a quick chat with Priscilla as Wes and Nat started winding down their pre-flight checks.

"All right, you two." said Margarita from the ramp of the IL-76. "They'll be expecting the Section 1 folks onboard. How long til wheels up?"

"Not long, about ten minutes, maybe." answered Wes.

"Tell 'em they're welcome aboard, though." added Nat.

Before Elenora and Pietro boarded the G650, they bid a farewell to Brian and Allison.

"Thanks for coming to get us out." said Elenora.

"See you back in Italy." added Pietro.

"Likewise." replied Brian. "You guys have a safe flight."

A few minutes later, Allison and Brian watched as Nat and Wes climbed aboard, powering up the G650, its Rolls-Royce turbofans shrieking with life as they began taxiing out of the hangar towards the runway. They stayed a little longer, watching the G650 take off into the blue afternoon sky before turning away to decide their next move.

"So what now? It seems like we brought all that firepower for nothing." said Allison, remembering that the diplomatic bag was still laden down with ammunition and explosives.

"Well, we need to finish patching things up with Cousin Tommy- we haven't finished our little talk. But after that, I say we take a little time to enjoy New York. I might catch hell for it when I get back, but you did well today, and you should be rewarded accordingly."

Allison's eyes lit up at her older brother's praise. "You really mean that, Brian?"

"Of course. In fact, I was thinking that maybe after finishing our talk with Cousin Tommy, we can go see that musical you were interested in-'Thoroughly Modern Millie', I believe it was?"

Allison quickly wrapped Brian in a powerful hug. "Brian, you're the coolest older brother ever!"

"Right." said Brian, trying to hug Allison back, lightly tapping her shoulder as a signal to ease her grip. "Now what do you say to finding us another car? The Delta's probably a little hot, and I don't think we'll involve ourselves in any shooting from here on out. Any ideas as to what you'd like to drive?"

Allison saw a Mini Cooper Convertible past the airport fence as it drove towards the terminal and settled upon that.

"I've always wanted to give a Mini Cooper a try..."

"I'll make sure to get the S version if the John Cooper Works version isn't available."

"You know me too well, Brian."

"I wouldn't be much of an older brother if I didn't."