Chapter 4

"Thanks for saving us back there," Gerard looked the man in the face. "We really owe you one."

"No thanks needed," the man said shortly, looking down and holding up a hand. His cigar was merely a stump now but his dirty cheeks pulled into a smirk. "Just doin' my job."

"I never knew being a bus driver could be so harrowing," Gerard remarked.

"Heh," the man placed his hand on Gerard's shoulder and said, "Listen, boys. It's a nasty mess out there and every man's gotta' be his own hero. The only advice I can give you is this: keep you boots tight, keep your gun close, and die with your mask on if you've got to." With that, the man pulled his goggles back over his eyes and patted them out the door. What Doc said would stay with Gerard for the rest of his life.

"Take this," he tossed something to Gerard who caught it midair. It was a small patch bearing a strange emblem of a fist and a star. "Wear this next to your heart and remember that the Embers of opposition burn on."

The driver of the bus resumed his place at the helm, saluted the men, and pulled a lever which closed the doors. With that, he was gone.

Gerard felt a twinge of sadness mix with a bitter helplessness when the Death Defyer pulled away and left them standing there in the shadow of the monstrous mega structure. He felt as if he was watching his sense of direction slowly drive away.

"Hello?"

A strange voice startled them from behind. Gerard whirled around and fumbled for his gun.

"Whoa there, Rangers, I ain't gonna' hurt ya'."

Before them stood a rather sexually ambiguous looking character whose face was hidden behind a shielded helmet. Sizing up his silver, spandex covered body, Gerard came to the conclusion that the person before them was clearly male. However, his voice carried a female quality that confused the hell out of him.

"The Doc asked me to get y'all inside…here," he lowered one of his raised hands cautiously so as not to spook the singer. He began unzipping his suit, just under his chin.

Gerard tensed, gripping his laser gun tightly with both hands. Safety: ON glowed red across the tiny digital screen just above his thumb. He mentally kicked himself for not spending any time familiarizing himself with the weapon before now and held his arm s so taught that his right elbow began to hyperflex slightly. The strange man unzipped his jumpsuit about six inches to reveal a small tattoo on his breast that was an identical copy of the fist and star on the patch Gerard had just received. Gerard relaxed a bit.

"Now, common' guys, let's go before they see us," the spandex-clad angled his head up as though he glanced towards the sky. He turned abruptly and beckoned them to follow him. Gerard dropped his gun to his side and exchanged a concerned look with his band members. Unable to think of any reason not to follow the strange man, he jumped into a jog behind him.

"Just a minute," Gerard protested after he was close enough for the man to hear. "Where are you taking us?"

"To Alta Plaza," he answered matter-of-factly without turning his head. They were running down a dirty alley beside the giant building.

"But…h-how did you -" Gerard stuttered, carefully watching his feet so he wouldn't lose his footing.

"Hey," the man quietly interrupted, ducking around a corner. "You guys wouldn't happen to have any product you'd be willing to trade, would you?" he asked in a hushed voice that sounded hollow coming from within his helmet. He itched his neck as he asked, giving away his tell – he was uncomfortable. Gerard could barely see the man in the shadow but shook his head, doubtful the man could see him through his dark visor. The man simply sighed in response and checked around the corner to see if anyone was following them. "Well, lemme' know if you fella's happen upon any Angel Dust in your travels… " he let out a single chuckle, then turned the corner.

It was dark and wet in the alley and a thick steam seemed to pour out of every crevasse; whether it be hissing out of some pipe or blowing out of an unseen vent, the place was filled with it. Along with steam, the alley was filled with an awful black slime that settled in puddles on the ground and made made every surface as slick as ice.

After another few minutes of running, they finally made it to a red, rusted door. The man they'd been following slid up his sleeve to reveal what looked like a thin bar code on his wrist and held it up to a laser scanner. A loud beep sounded and a blue light flashed above the door as several locking mechanisms within the door rattled open. Inside was another door.

"Identification number," an automated voice crackled as they approached the inner door. "Six, six, zero, three, eight, nine," the speaker recited as their masked companion pressed the corresponding numbers into an illuminated key pad. "Access granted. Welcome, Three Eight Nine." The door whooshed open.

"We're in, boys," sighed the man. "Now, I don't know where you guys 'come from but, if you all go walkin' round Alta Plaza lookin' like that, you're gonna' get some unwanted attention directed your way...if you get what I mean," he warned as they entered the pitch blackness of the space within. It took Gerard several minutes for his eyes to adjust to the void they'd just entered but once they did, he realized they were in a large wear house. Strange masked workers buzzed about here and there, pushing huge pallets and crates. The front man suddenly felt mildly self conscious, standing there in the garb of his time. Confusion and obstinate refusal to accept the current state of affairs he's found himself in nipping at the corners of his mind, Gerard pushes it all aside and binds himself to the duty of protecting his band – no matter what. The answers behind the probability of their time travel will have to wait.

The man sighed again and put one hand on his hip. "I 'spose I'd only be doing half my job if I let you off here..." he admitted laboriously, seeming burdened by the four men before him.

"If you could get us into the Commercial District, we'd really appreciate it," Gerard said.

After a short silence, Frank added, "We're kinda' shooting in the dark here, if you haven't noticed..."

The man's helmet gave nothing away. He stood for a moment more, weighing the odds, then answered with a sigh. "Well, follow me."

Frank and Gerard shared a sideways glance, then took off again after the man.

As they wound their way through mile high pillars of bulk merchandise, the spandex-clad man began to babble loudly, much to the surprise of the men that followed him. It wasn't long before they realized, however, that he was merely adapting to a different type of cover. Whereas before, silence was necessary to remain undetected, now loud, frivolous speech was required in order to carry out a normal appearance. He spoke excitedly about fashion and news, never waiting for a response to his questions but instead, moving quickly onto different topics, like the weather. He lead them from pillar to pillar in an overall relaxed manner, stopping only occasionally to tilt his head back in search of surveillance cameras.

"The storms in Vegas have been brutal lately. I've heard the toxicity level of the air has risen considerably as a result of..." as he spoke, the man known as Three Eight Nine glanced casually over his shoulder. It was just then that an enormous spider dropped down from the ceiling, dangling from a single white thread. The creatures abdomen was the length of a man's foot and it's legs about four feet long. Gerard whipped out his gun.

"Don't... move..." he whispered, eyes growing large. He aimed the gun just over the man's shoulder.

"What the hell do you think y– " the man protested as he began turning towards Gerard but it was too late. The creature had latched onto the man with it's horrible, barbed legs and began to pull his wriggling body up the thread. Gerard pulled the trigger but the gun clicked. He remembered the safety was on and began pushing every button he could find on the handle of the gun. A tiny button behind the trigger changed the readout from ON to OFF. Only seconds had passed but the spider and it's howling pray were already swinging stories high in the air.

"Ahh! Get me down! Help me, HELP ME!" the man screamed, kicking his legs violently.

Gerard ran back a few steps and aimed his long-nosed laser gun skyward. Swearing under his breath, he cursed everything on God's green earth. The foreboding likelihood of him tagging Three Eight Nine with a fiery shot instead of the beast caused Gerard's head to spin. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to match the aim of his weapon with the constant left-right swing of his target.

As though the man's violent struggling had become too much for the arachnid to handle, it reared up in what could only be the most viscous attack position imaginable and bore it's ugly fangs. Two long teeth emerged from beneath the dark, hairy creature; glistening with venom.

A single straight, blue bolt erupted from Gerard's candy machine gun. Meeting the beast's bulbous abdomen with deadly accuracy, an explosion of whitish guts flew every which way. Three Eight Nine fell screaming to the top of one of the monstrous pillars of bulk merchandise.

Gerard could hardly believe it. He let out a long breath, unaware that he'd been keeping it in, and yielded to the enormous smile spreading across his face. Equally relieved as he was surprised, he ran to where his band stood at the base of the pillar.

"Wow, Gee. You hit it!" Ray exclaimed, reflecting Gerard's thoughts. He was covered with a reeking slim that caused Gerard to slow his approach considerably.

"Ew," he cringed at the sight of a gelatinous bit of spider guts clinging to the guitarists bouncing fro.

"I knew he would," Frank boasted, coming out from behind a large crate.

"Where's Mikey?" Gerard asked, suddenly alarmed. "Mikey!"

"He was here a minute ago..." Ray said, glancing around.

The sound of vomit hitting the concrete floor perked Gerard's ears. Then the sound of his brother retching behind the pillar. The three men rushed to his side.

"Mikey! Are you alright?" Gerard asked, voice filled with concern.

His brother knelt against the yellow plastic covering the huge pillar, one hand steadying himself. He too was coated in a nasty slime.

"Yuck..." he rasped feebly, lifting his pale face to his brother.

Gerard smiled and patted his shoulder with sympathy.