Author's Note: I recently found out that Barbara Pyle (CP co-creator) confirmed that Wheeler's first name is James. So just thought I'd forewarn you that this name will be referred to within this chapter.

Guide You Home

Chapter Eight

Thick plumes of smoke started filling the administration building immediately, swirling gracefully despite the hurried movements of the people attempting to escape.

Chaos ensued as Plunder's staff vacated in the least orderly way possible: pushing and shoving one another in an attempt to reach the entrance doors. They staggered and weaved, reaching blindly for one another in desperation. Coughing and sharp cries punctuated the atmosphere as the employees finally reached the bottom level.

Their confusion was soon heightened by the fact that a vehicle lay smoldering in the foyer, surrounded by broken glass from the front windows. The sound had been enormous: first the glass shattering as the vehicle had impacted and torn through the foyer, then the explosion that followed.

The truck had come to rest wedged between the reception desk and the wall, flames and smoke still billowing from the cabin. The fire sprinkler system had kicked in within a minute of the explosion, adding to the fear and confusion as the employees found their way into the night-time air.

The sun had long since set. The only light source available was provided by the industrial floodlights bathing the airfield in a bright glow (and the vehicle still burning inside the main office).

A small crowd had gathered outside, including Looten Plunder who stood bellowing at the top of his lungs, his face red with fury.

"Fucking Planet brats!" Plunder spat, glaring in the direction of the smoking truck. His voice was hoarse from screaming as he looked around wildly, pushing past the frightened employees.

Anger and concern furrowed his brow as he considered the financial (and physical) implications to him and his company if this deal went south. Plunder had dealt with organized crime syndicates before. He was only too familiar with the consequences if an agreement wasn't kept.

The Italian Mafioso were not forgiving. An acquaintance of Plunder's had learnt this lesson the hard way. The knee-cappings of the past had given way to much crueler forms of control and intimidation. Plunder winced, combing his fingers through his hair with unsteady movement hands.

Plunder's one-time colleague had backed out of a deal with the Maglione famiglia at the last minute. The police had never found the body, but his testicles had been pinned to a dart board in the pool-room and there was blood all over the scene. The two family dogs were never located.

Plunder had always assumed they'd been given a decent feed before being set loose… or disposed off to hide the evidence.

The workers looked uneasy as Plunder gritted his teeth, shoving a middle-aged man out of his way as he pulled his cell phone from his trousers and stalked towards his vehicle. It was time to cut his losses and run.

Barbara Blight quickly stuffed her laptop and paperwork into her satchel while glancing around the room, checking to see if she had forgotten anything important. She tucked a wet clump of hair behind her ear, glaring at the sprinkler system and the steady stream of water it was producing.

The alarms were sounding and smoke was floating upwards but Blight had more pressing matters to deal with before she could leave. All her research and the machinery within her office was far too valuable to risk damage. She had ignored the bells and headed straight to her office to retrieve and safeguard her work.

The missile had been her pièce de résistance. Her masterpiece. She had finally stumbled across a temporary solution to her biggest problem: The Planeteers. Her lips curved into a smile as she stuffed inanimate objects from her desk into the pockets of her bag.

With further research, she hoped the radioactive kinks could be ironed out and the effects would become irreversible. Permanent.

Just think. A world without those eco-morons.

She sighed, pushing her wet hair off her face again. Her scar gleamed wetly as she peered out the window, her gaze falling on Plunder's familiar figure striding across the gravel tarmac below.

Blight looked away, directing her glance towards the missile.

But it was no longer there.

The scientist opened her mouth, an almost comical expression of confusion and shock. Her lips formed a round 'o' as she hurried over to where it had lay, dropping her laptop bag and falling to her knees to search frantically underneath the desk.

What the hell?

Panic was starting to set in as the doctor rose to her feet again. She launched herself towards the large filing cabinet, tossing random objects aside in her frantic attempt to locate the weapon.

Manilla folders and envelopes went flying in all directions as she muttered furiously to herself. One envelope skidded to a halt near the hallway, beside the figure of a man standing in the doorway, his face bathed in shadows.

"Looking for something, Blight?"

She froze in front of the cabinet, her hand still resting against the top shelf. Blight pursed her lips as she quickly ran through a number of defensive tactics needed to exit the room without the need for hand-cuffs.

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am." She turned and glared defiantly at the figure in the doorway, already recognizing him from the security feed earlier in the day.

"What might that be?" Kwame enquired, his voice calm but with an edge of anger. He stepped forwards, leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest.

She smirked, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, you know. My latest experiment. But enough about that." She glanced at him, aware that he hadn't used his ring yet. She took that as a positive sign. "How are things with you and your crappy little super-hero club?"

Kwame narrowed his eyes. "I think you already know the answer to that, Blight," he snapped. "What have you done?"

She grinned at him, her teeth flashing in the moonlight. "Oh darling, your primitive little mind wouldn't be able to comprehend it…"

"Have you infected us with radiation?" Kwame's voice was harsh as he stepped forward again, closing the distance between them.

"Yeah," she drawled, clicking her tongue with amusement at his obvious concern. She stood defiantly, crossing her own arms and glaring back at the Planeteer. "Yeah, I have."

"What have you done? Why don't our rings work?"

Blight grinned. She may be psychotic, but she was first and foremost a scientist, and genuinely curious as to the full effect of her creation.

She sighed, inspecting her fingernails as she leaned against the desk. "MAL was able to isolate the chemical compound of your rings. It's amazing what concentrated gamma radiation can accomplish, wouldn't you say?"

"Is it dangerous to us?" Kwame took another step forward, his eyes not leaving her face.

"How the hell should I know?" she snapped, glancing around the room once again for the rocket launcher. "Where the hell is my machinery?"

"Is the radiation dangerous?" Kwame's voice shook with barely-contained malice and Dr Blight blinked, uncharacteristically nervous as she dropped eye contact with the earth Planeteer.

She rolled her eyes, but refused to meet his angry glare. "The short bursts I created were designed to cause molecular damage to the chemical compound of your rings. So if you're wondering if you'll drop dead of cancer in five years, my best guess would be no."

"That is not exactly comforting, Blight."

She shrugged, her eyes settling on a second figure who quietly stepped in through the doorway and was watching the scientist intently. "My heart bleeds for you," she spat back sarcastically. "Where's my rocket launcher?"

Kwame smiled, but the gesture didn't quite reach his eyes. "First things first, Blight. You and I have some things to discuss further."

"Hey, chrome dome."

Argos Bleak froze, his face twisting into a sneer as he immediately recognized the cheerful American accent.

"Wondering when you'd surface, Pyro," he said, turning and searching the building for the hidden voice. "I'm under the impression you're a little lacking in fire-power right now?"

"Nah, man; been over toasting marshmallows in what used to be your boss's office." Wheeler quipped, flattening himself against the corrugated shipping container.

Bleak grunted, unsure whether or not to believe him.

The American risked a glance through the side; the barred window giving him another view of the children locked inside.

He locked eyes with Amadia and winked. She smiled and nodded, whispering quietly to two of the older girls beside her, ready to act when needed.

Wheeler had taken his chance when Bleak had stepped outside to survey the commotion near the main office just after the explosion. He'd approached the container and given a low whistle, beckoning to the little girl in the school uniform he'd seen being mistreated by Bleak earlier.

She had stepped out of the shadows and approached him cautiously, gripping the bars and listening as he spoke in quiet, soothing tones.

Having seen her respond to her captors in English, he outlined what he needed from her and the older girls and she had turned and stepped away, relaying the plan to the others.

Frightened, dirty faces watched on passively as Amadia had returned after a moment, giving him the thumbs up sign. He sighed with relief. His plan was pretty basic, but all he needed was to buy more time. The authorities were on their way and it was the best course of action he could come up with.

He held his breath as Bleak slung his rifle over his shoulder, darting behind the same tractor he'd been hiding within earlier. Wheeler ducked away from the container as he nearly came into Bleak's line of sight

"Where are ya, you little shit," Bleak called out, his voice echoing sharply through the hanger. "Sludge has already got one of your little buddies tied…"

"Not any more, baldy," Wheeler taunted, grinning as Bleak muttered angrily under his breath. "I mean, shit. It's so hard to find good help these days, isn't it?"

"Fuck you, Planet Punk."

"Aw, c'mon Bleak. I miss our little chats. We never talk any more."

"I'll give you something to talk about, ya tree huggin' hippy." Argos Bleak's movements were becoming more frenzied. He kicked a fuel container over in anger, his eyes scanning the surroundings for possible hiding places. "Come out and we'll talk man-to-man."

"Dude, I would but I just can't take you seriously with that moustache."

Bleak swore, slamming the rifle butt against the shipping container and causing the girls inside to cry out.

"I'm gonna beat you into next millennium when I find you, Pyro," Bleak roared.

"Next millennium?" Wheeler called, his voice taking on a slightly hysterical edge as he followed Bleak's movements around the hanger. "Here's hoping. It'd be an improvement on your wardrobe, idiot."

Bleak snarled as he stalked around the fuel barrels again, hunting for his prey. Wheeler caught a glimpse of the silver tangle of keys attached to his hip.

"Think you're pretty clever, don't ya?" he spat, appearing briefly within Wheeler's peripheral vision before disappearing again. "Plane's here. Think you can still stop us? I have a bullet here with your fucking name on it!"

"Check your cartridge, Bleak," Wheeler shouted back, steadying himself against the waves of dizziness that were returning. "You'll find yourself a little light on ammo, dickhead!"

Wheeler heard the sound of the rifle chamber clicking open. Bleak swore, tossing the rifle aside in anger and striding in Wheeler's direction.

Wheeler flattened himself against the side of the shipping container again. He gripped the rag securely in his shaking hands, adding more ether for good measure. Wheeler passed the rag through the bars of the window and small hands took it, squeezing his own in return. The American knew without a doubt that he didn't have a hope of subduing Bleak one-handed. He needed their help.

God, I hope this works.

"You know, I'm gonna enjoy dancing disco-style on your grave, red."

"You know, the seventies are over, disco-boy." His mouth was running on automatic now, a bundle of hysterical energy bubbling towards the surface. "But I hear the Village People are auditioning for new talent. You'd fit right in!"

He heard the shuffle of footsteps around the corner and he clenched his fists, steeling himself for what was about to come.

"Got ya," Bleak sneered, slamming Wheeler into the container and placing him in a headlock. The American felt the impact and gasped as Bleak wrenched his ring off and tossed it aside.

They struggled violently for several moments, dodging fists and kicks before the American moved on sheer desperation. He ducked down low and made a grab for the keys, fumbling and struggling to detach them from Bleak's belt loop.

Bleak immediately twisted away from the Planeteer and the keys fell from his grasp. Wheeler felt a knee impact hard upon his stomach and he yelped, doubling over as Bleak slammed his head against the container.

Bleak's hand closed around the American's throat and Wheeler felt Bleak's grip tighten. He gasped for air as Bleak closed the distance, shoving the back of his head into the container wall once again. Stars burst forth and his vision swayed and shimmered, dazed by the blow.

Bleak felt the American's body slump within his grip and he smirked, releasing his neck and resuming the headlock position, easily overpowering the fire Planeteer.

Bleak leaned forward, his lips curved into a smile as his breath whispered hot against Wheeler's ear.

"You and I have a date with a bullet, motor mouth."

Wheeler gasped as Bleak's arm tightened around his throat. His shoes skidded helplessly against the floor as he attempted to stand but Bleak held him securely.

"Radio tells me a little blonde has been found in the sand-dunes a few clicks north of here. I've got a date planned with her too…"

Wheeler's jaw tensed, his blue eyes fluttering open as his heart rate increased beyond belief. Bleak smirked, leaning closer. "Won't just be bullets entering her though, if you catch my drift. I'm gonna show her a real good time before she joins you."

Adrenaline surged through Wheeler's veins as his vision suddenly pulsed back to life in hot, red bursts. The American let out a roar and threw himself backwards, slamming Bleak backwards into the container. Bleak tipped over, coming to rest against the barred windows where watchful eyes waited, biding their time.

"Now!" Wheeler bellowed, pressing his weight back against Bleak with all the energy he could muster.

Several arms shot out of the window, wrapping around Bleak's neck and clutching tightly to his shoulders. Bleak loosened his grip on the American as he struggled to disengage himself from the twisting limbs trying to hold him in place. Bleak's eyes widened as a damp cloth was placed over his mouth, unaware that the moment of distraction had cost him dearly.

Wheeler fumbled to retrieve the keys, absorbing the desperate kicks and blows from Bleak who was still trying to fight off the girls. The American wrenched free of him, noting Bleak's movements were slowing down, his body beginning to sag. Bleak staggered away, wiping his face against the back of his hand as the drug started impacting upon his movements. His legs were sluggish and he fell, his brain failing to engage his limbs properly.

Wheeler staggered towards him, retrieving Bleak's rifle from the ground and swinging it with all his might. Argos Bleak crashed to the floor, out cold.

The American tossed the rifle aside, grabbing hold of a fuel canister to steady himself. Wheeler took several deep breaths, biting back the sudden urge to purge his stomach. He finally rounded the front gate of the container, dropping to his knees as he met Amadia's determined face pressed up against the bars. He tried several keys but found that his hands were shaking too much, and he was unable to focus on the lock.

"You're gonna' have to do it hon," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "I can't see."

Amadia nodded, grabbing the keys and trying each one until she found the mechanism clicked into place. Wheeler crawled aside, coughing as the gate swung open. The girls filed out in a somewhat orderly fashion, the only hiccup occurring when one of the younger children tripped and fell. She was swiftly picked up and pulled along with the others.

"We hide?" Amadia asked, crouching down in front of Wheeler's prone body. He nodded, too exhausted to open his eyes.

"Split up and hide, but don't go too far. There's people coming to help you, okay?" Wheeler propped himself up against the gate, his chin lolling against his chest as he fought the temptation to sleep. Amadia nodded again, relaying the message to three of the older captives. They filed away into the night, some glancing back at Wheeler with equal measures of concern and relief.

Wheeler, are you all right?

The American's eyes fluttered open as he gritted his teeth. He was in agony, his head and arm radiating the worst pain he'd ever experienced. Raising his ring to his head took all the energy he could muster.

"Not really, man," he said. "No."

Wheeler, I'm tracking the rescue operation. They're surrounding the airfield, the military passed by me about 10 minutes ago. They wont be long. Where are the girls?

Wheeler straightened his back, readjusting his position in a vain attempt to make himself more comfortable.

"They're out. They're hiding…" He trailed off suddenly, slurring his words again now as he struggled to form his thoughts in a cohesive manner. "Have you found her? Bleak said something…"

I've caught a lift to Segou, I'm picking up snippets from people, random thoughts but I'm sure Linka has been spotted. I can't confirm anything, my friend. I simply do not know her condition. You'll know as soon as I do, I promise.

Wheeler broke off the connection. He glanced upwards, seeing a blurry figure streaking through the hangar doors and screeching to a halt.

"Oh my God," the figure gasped. He coughed, his blue eyes watering as Gi launched herself in his direction. She dropped to her knees and skidded towards him. "Oh my God, Wheeler."

Soft hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him downwards, cradling his head in her lap. "Don't go to sleep, James. Can you hear me?"

Gi supported his neck with one hand and brushed the hair out of his eyes with the other, leaning over him worriedly. Wheeler was deathly pale, his chest rising and falling too slow for Gi's liking. She patted his cheek, trying to keep him conscious.

"Kwame," she called, spotting the Earth Planeteer enter the hangar carrying a small child on his hip, and with Amadia by his side. "He's here!"

Kwame's face remained stoic as he approached the pair. He dropped tiredly to the ground beside Wheeler. He kept a firm hold of the child in his arms, her arms clasped around his neck in a panicky grip. Kwame placed his other hand on Wheeler's chest, as if to seek confirmation that he was still with them.

After a moment's hesitation, Amadia joined them on the concrete floor and together they sat, looking out at the approaching lights and sirens on the distant horizon.

Okay, you know how I like a slow burn. One character has been missing through most of this fic. You'll find out her fate in the next chapter. I promise! Read and review, guys!

Anyone catch the 25th anniversary of CP at Comic Con New York last week? It was pretty cool!