Author's Note: Haha, I posted my History homework. Whoops! My bad, but here's the original chapter. Thanks to the people who told me

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Chapter Eleven: Gun
The next morning, the two grabbed some breakfast at a McDonald Drive-Thru, then headed to Headquarters.

"So what's the plan?" Sabrina asked, ignoring the fact that Casey was there too.

"Well. Casey has to go in, because out of the three of us, Emma only knows her. And I think that Michael wants revenge on Casey. So in order for him to come forward, Casey has to go in," Derek said, his mind thinking of a plan.

He didn't want Casey to go in and possibly get hurt, but there was no other solution for Emma to recognize them.

"And then we'll just have to go with the flow after that."

Sabrina handed Derek and Casey each a bullet-proof vest, and they pulled it on; Sabrina put one on too.

"Casey, you'll have to somehow get close to Emma without Michael noticing. Slip this cloth under her shirt," Derek said, handing Casey a thick cloth.

Casey nodded.

Derek got the directions to 246 Rundown Drive, and the three filed into Derek's car, Casey in the backseat.

"What kind of place is this?" Casey asked, as they drove down a street that was worse than Michael's so-called house.

"Dumpster?" Derek said, as he tried to find house number 246.

Derek pulled to a stop at a brown house.

"Okay. Sabrina, you're gonna stay outside. I have a smaller version of our walkie-talkies, and the talk button is taped down, so you should hear what's going on. If it gets bad, call for back-up. Here are the keys. Drive around in circles," Derek said, handing his partner his car keys.

Sabrina took them, and moved to sit in the driver's seat, "Do you have your gun?"

"Yeah. It's in my jacket," Derek nodded, patting the place where his gun was.

"Gun?" Casey squeaked.

"I won't be killing you, Case. Now let's go," Derek said, taking her hand, as they walked up the half-broken stairs that led to the door.

Derek took a look inside the window by the door, to see beer bottles all over the place.

"We're gonna see if there's another way in," Derek whispered quietly, leading her around the house.

"What's wrong with the front door?" Casey asked softly.

"Judging by the number of glass bottles, the door will hit something," he said, then crouched down, and peaked through a dusty glass window at the basement.

"This one should do," Derek said, pulling the window out of its frame slowly.

"How do you do that?" Casey asked, as Derek placed the glass beside them.

"You live and learn," Derek said, then cutting the net open.

"Wow, who would have thought Derek Venturi the king of his high school would know these things," Casey teased.

"Mhm," Derek said, pulling out the final piece of glass, and setting it aside, "I'll go first, see if it's safe."

Derek took out a mini flashlight and shone the light inside.

Then he put the handle of the flashlight in his mouth, his teeth biting into it; then slowly crawled inside.

"Come inside, it's safe. It's a long drop, but I'll catch you," Derek said, a minute after.

Casey, who was clearly frightened, slowly crawled inside, and accidentally tripping.

She fell into Derek's arms, "Are you okay?"

Derek helped her stand back up.

"Yeah," Casey replied.

Derek stuffed the small flashlight, in his pocket.

And the two of them slowly crept out of the room.

But leaving that room, they entered another.

The room that held Emma, and where Michael, and his friends were.

Emma was still wearing her pink princess pyjamas, but they were stained red.

Michael was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a large black t-shirt, a gun beside him..

His two friends, which were probably his back-up, were wearing black tightly fitted shirts, and black cargo pants.

They both had a gun somewhere; friend number one had a gun in hand, and the other friend had a gun in his back pocket.

"Ah, Casey. My dear Casey. Welcome home."

"Mummy!" Emma shrieked.

"Shut up, little bitch," Michael said, pointing his gun at her, and Emma shut up.

Derek was eyeing the two people behind Michael.

They were all wearing bullet-proof vests, including Michael.

Friend number one was chubby with a moustache with hair as long as Casey's, and was tossing the gun up and down.

Friend number two was skinny with no facial hair, and was bald.

"Why are you gonna kill my daughter?" Casey asked softly.

"Why not? It's not like she's my daughter," Michael snorted.

"But before I kill her, you can go give her a hug or whatever," Michael waved at her.

Casey quickly rushed to her daughter's side.

Michael turned his attention to Derek, who was still sizing up Moustache and Bald-ie.

"And who are you?" Michael asked nicely and a fake smile, walking towards him, his friends following.

"Derek," Derek said, not saying his last name that was the same as Emma's.

"And why are you here?" Michael asked, spinning his gun around his finger.

Derek could see out of the corner of his eye, that Casey was quickly shoving the cloth in Emma's shirt, telling Emma that everything was going to be okay.

Derek shrugged.

"You're wearing a bullet-proof vest. You're a cop, aren't you?" Michael asked.

"You're wearing one too. Are you a cop?" Derek smart-talked in a bored tone.

Michael snorted, "Yeah right."

Casey carried Emma over, "What's going on?"

"Oh, hey sweetie," Michael said, "We should get ready for the celebration."

"Why are you killing my daughter? So what if she's not your's," Casey said.

"Casey Casey Casey. Remember how you dumped me because Emma didn't like me."

"She didn't like you because you abused her," Casey shot back.

"So? I hit you, did you hate me?"

"Yeah. I do hate you."

"And do I care if you hate me? Actually, I had planned on hunting down the father instead of killing the girl. But no one told me. Your parents didn't know, was told you got drunk and slept with some random guy," Michael said.

Derek kept a straight face, knowing that his parents had known who the father was.

"I asked Emma, and the poor baby doesn't even know who her father is," Michael cooed.

"What if I tell you now?" Casey said.

"Well then you'd be free to go," Michael said, fake smile plastered over his face.

'Bullshit,' Derek thought.

"Swear on your gun," Casey said.

"I swear on my gun," Michael repeated.

"Him."

Michael looked at Derek, who's face was emotionless.

"You know, she does look like you," Michael observed with a smile.

Derek blinked, unfazed.

Michael raised his gun, and pointed it at his head.

With a real smile at his lips, Michael slowly pulled the trigger.