Eddie grunted a little as he glanced around, then pulled Rey across the street behind him, following Chavo, who was beelining for a Burger King that had just opened. It wasn't Eddie's first choice, but he guessed it would do for now. When they reached the door, Chavo stopped and held it open for them, and Eddie and Rey hurried through, trying to catch their breath. Eddie glanced to his nephew, and spoke to him in Spanish, hoping it would help mask what they were up to. "(Is this far enough?)" he asked, pulling Rey in and fixing an arm around his shoulders to keep him nearby.

Chavo responded in kind. "(We're like, five blocks away. Even if they know we ran, they surely can't pinpoint this spot.)"

"(We won't attract too much attention, will we?)"

Chavo raised his eyebrows. "(Three world-famous Mexican wrestlers, one of whom is supposed to be dead and two of whom are AWOL from WWE, in the middle of a Canadian Burger King, out of breath from running up the street and carrying huge bags along with them? Oh and we're speaking completely the wrong language for this country. Oh no, we're perfectly fine, Eddie.)"

"(Right. Into the bathroom then.)" Eddie pulled Rey with him and headed for the men's restroom, making a note that fortunately, none of the jaded restaurant workers really seemed to be paying them much mind, and went to the handicap stall inside, waiting on Chavo to follow and come into the enlarged stall with him before pulling the door shut and locking it.

"(This is not how I thought I'd be spending today,)" Chavo said, leaning against the wall, putting one bag down and sliding down to sit on it, cramming himself into the corner of the stall.

"(It's just until the others save Cena and call us. We'll tell them to come pick us up and we can get on our way.)" Eddie took the other bag and scooted it over, sitting Rey down on it, then scooching over to sit next to him. "(You okay, Rey-Rey?)"

Rey nodded slowly, staring at the floor. "(They're not gonna let us get away from Hell, Eddie...)" he murmured softly. "(They're not going to let me out. You shouldn't have come...)"

"(Rey...you're out now,)" Eddie said. "(You're away from those monsters and they're not going to hurt you anymore.)"

Rey shook his head slowly. "(They'll hurt all of you if you keep fighting them, Eddie. I'm the one they want, they're calling for me. I heard him calling for me. And Kane...Kane'll get involved soon and you can't stop him.)"

"(I've fought Kane before and I've beaten him before. I'm not scared of him, and you don't have to be anymore, either.)" Eddie hugged him tightly. "(We just wait here until the others get done and come pick us up, and then we're moving on. Okay?)"

Rey didn't respond, but he leaned against Eddie, sighing softly. Eddie held onto him, looking over at Chavo, who squirmed a bit to get comfortable, then leaned back against the tiled wall silently. Eddie got comfortable as well, digging his new cell phone out of his pocket and looking at the time, wincing a little and putting it back in.

"(If we don't hear from them in an hour, we'll start trying to figure out something else, okay?)"

Chavo nodded in agreement. "(If they don't call us by then...we'll have to assume the worst.)"

( )

The black van was pulling around the side of the hotel, as though moving towards the back parking lot. The large man driving it was focused forward, while his counterpart and Dr. Krugman were in the back with the guy they'd snatched. Krugman had said the other ones in the group were going to try and rescue their friend, so he was trying to keep an eye out to see what was happening.

He could hear the doctor in the back, muttering something over and over in a low voice to their prisoner, who looked completely out of it. Krugman had pumped him full of the fluid he'd seen used on so many of the patients back at the hospital, and even though he wasn't quite sure what it did, it obviously had a major effect very quickly. When he glanced back at the captive, big and obviously powerful as he was, he already seemed as helpless as a baby, head lolling down against his chest except when Krugman grabbed hold of his chin and met his eyes to keep speaking to him. ...well, "met his eyes" maybe wasn't the right phrase, considering that the guy's eyes were rolling around in his head as though they weren't connected to anything, sometimes actually seeming to be looking somewhere but as often as not, vanishing back into his head.

He turned his gaze back to the driving, but just in time to see what looked like a chair fly down from the roof of the hotel and smash into the windshield, sending a spiderweb of cracks through it.

"Son of a bitch!" he snarled, slamming on the brakes. "I think they're attacking us."

"I knew they would..." Krugman said from behind. "Just keep going, you can still see through the windshield just fine."

He didn't, though, see what happened next coming, when there was a sudden loud crash, a denting inwards, and an cursing exclamation of pain from the roof of the van. The driver instinctively slammed the van into park as it happened. "What the fuck was that?" he grunted, starting to look backwards at the impression that had appeared in the roof-but as he did, the window beside his head smashed in, and he felt large hands grabbing him and dragging him through the window. That was the last thing he was aware of.

Batista looked up from the unconscious fellow, nodding to Josh, who was holding a leg from the bed he'd used to break out the window. He glanced up to see Jeff starting to scrape himself off the roof of the van...from where he'd landed after jumping off the roof of the hotel. "You okay, Jeff? You didn't have to go that far..."

"Nuh-uh..." Jeff muttered, sitting up and holding his side. "They didn't want to stop for the chair, so I improvised...shit that hurt..."

Morrison and Beth moved quickly to the back of the van, grabbing the doors and yanking them open, moving rapidly out of the way as a pair of gunshots rang out through the open door, but then went silent again. After another second, the second man, a veritable giant in a gray uniform, his black hair shaggy and hanging long into his dark blue eyes, stepped forward, staying just inside the back of the van, brandishing a metal rod. "All right," he said. "You best stay back. We got plenty of time and ammo in here to deal with all of you so just back off now!"

"Just give us our friend back and we'll leave you in peace," Josh said, coming around behind Morrison as Batista came around to flank Beth.

"You don't have anything to threaten us with, we have all the bargaining here!" the man said, leaning forward-just enough for Jeff, still sitting on top of the van, to lash down with one foot and kick him in the head. The man grunted, but grabbed as Jeff kicked again, getting hold of his leg and yanking him down, catching him in a half nelson and managing to pull both of Jeff's arms behind his back, gripping them with one arm and using the other to hang onto his hair, holding him at the back of the van so that his feet dangled off the ground even as he struggled to free himself.

"Let him go!" Morrison shouted, starting to move forward, but stopping when the man wrenched at Jeff's arms, making him squeal in pain.

"It's real simple here, folks..." the man growled. "Back the fuck off or both of your little buddies are gonna get broke."

Krugman joined the henchman at the door, holding the pistol carefully. "I don't think we have space for two in here, Alexander."

"Too bad..." The man smirked. "This one's prettier than the other one."

"And here I'd thought we'd rehabilitated you of those thoughts," Krugman mused quietly.

"Fuck you both!" Jeff spat, kicking and trying to work free.

"Just let him go, man," Morrison said, starting to step around the van's door, holding up both hands. "Just let him go, you don't need him, you've got the weapons, we don't. Put him down, we'll back off."

"Not without Cena, we won't!" Beth said. "Let them both go!"

Krugman aimed the pistol for Morrison, who froze, staring between it and Jeff, but holding his ground. "Hmm. We are all in a bit of a quandary then, aren't we? I am going to need to wipe all your minds at the very least, and yet the way you are pushing to hold onto what you have may be forcing my hand into a direction I am loathe to go."

"It's only a matter of time before someone calls the police to get involved in this and then you won't be able to hide what's going on anymore!" Batista shot back.

There was a moment of silence, and then, in a slightly bemused voice, Krugman responded. "You realize I could simply hold you at bay indefinitely with the threat of harm to your friends. And you also assume the police here would take your side of things. After all, we had to go to a great deal of effort to ensure our activities in this area would go unnoticed."

"You're lying! You couldn't have gotten to every police station within 100 miles or whatever you're trying to imply!"

"And why not? You've seen firsthand the enormous scale of what we were doing. We had three thousand subjects in the hospital, all in various states of experimentation, a perfect random cross-section of Americans. Do you think we would have gone through all the trouble to travel all over the country, faking deaths and taking away our subjects to bring here for our science, and not be absolutely certain to avoid any chance of being discovered by some wayward police officer?"

"Three thousand?" Josh gasped out loud.

"Of course. We worked round numbers. Estimated 300 million American citizens and used some very extensive notes and computations to take approximately every one hundred-thousandth person from an alphabetical list. A nearly flawless random assortment. If any of you had been a few spaces shy of where you were, it would have very easily been you there instead of Mr. Mysterio or any of the others." Krugman considered a moment, then chuckled almost merrily. "Mr. Mysterio himself wasn't originally part of the list, but...the gentleman ahead of him had already been killed in an accident before we could bring him in. We went to the next name and..." he chuckled again. "A practical celebrity. He was probably our most famous subject. Some of our workers actually tried to rebel over him. Amazing, the effects that fame can have...they didn't bat an eye over the other 2,999 human beings we took away, and that includes the children we had, but for him..."

"You're a sick son of a bitch," Batista said in a low voice. "You and everyone who willingly participated in this godawful event."

"That would include you, to a certain degree, my friend," Krugman continued. "All right, Alexander, put the young man down and get into the driver's seat. We should go on our way."

"I don't think I should, doc," Alexander said. "I think dropping him would open us up to another attack."

"You'll have to figure out a way to keep him restrained, then, or else he'll cause us more trouble than we can handle just now."

"Please..." Morrison said, starting to step forward but stopping when Krugman aimed the gun again. "Please, just let him go. You don't need him, you don't, we'll back off, we'll-,"

"Oh the hell with this!" Josh abruptly kicked the door of the van he was standing behind, slamming it shut hard enough to collide with Krugman and knock him backwards into the van. "Storm 'em!"

Morrison lunged forward, grabbing the guy holding Jeff and yanking him out, while Josh yanked the van door back open for Batista and Beth to jump in and go after Krugman, with the sound of blows falling and bodies colliding into van walls. Alexander stumbled but managed to stay on his feet, still clutching hard at Jeff's hair, trying to keep him between himself and Morrison. "Stay back," Alexander warned, walking backwards, even though Morrison stalked his every step.

"Keep it up and I'll shove your foot up your own ass," Morrison growled, stalking after the guy. "Let go of him and walk away and you'll live through this with a minimum of dismemberment. If I don't maul you, as soon as the others are finished with your doctor buddy, they'll sure as shit help me."

The man narrowed his eyes, glaring at Morrison a moment, but abruptly released Jeff's arms and shoved him forward into Morrison, in the same motion, ripping his hand through Jeff's hair and making his hostage scream in pain as a chunk of blue locks were pulled free, remaining in Alexander's hand. Morrison caught Jeff and glared as Alexander, grinning wickedly, ran the strands of hair under his nose. "Keeping this for a souvenir, so I know what to look for later!" he smirked, before turning on his heel and running towards the street.

"You motherfucker!" Morrison shouted, starting to try and go after him, but Jeff grabbed hold of his wrist.

"Let him go, Johnny. He's just some fucked-up flunky. We'll never see him again." Jeff winced, rubbing the spot on his head where the hair had been pulled out. "This has not been my morning."

"Are you okay? Jesus, you bounced off the roof of a van and then that-,"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Jeff glanced towards the van, where the noises of the fight finally died down, as Josh stood at the back and watched through the open door. "More than I can say for the dude in there."

They headed over to join Josh, then had to step back as Batista tossed the battered doctor out and onto the pavement. "Good move, Josh," he said with a nod.

"I was tired of the monologue." Josh peered in. "How's Cena?"

Batista winced, turning to where Beth was crouched in front of their friend, unfastening the belts holding him into the chair. "Not good. They've drugged him and it looked like they beat on him a little bit before we got here."

"He's still alive, but he's really out of it," Beth said, as the last belt came free, and she caught him as he slumped forward. "Let's get him out of here and go find Eddie and Chavo and Rey, fast."

Batista turned his head at the sound of several sirens in the distance. "Yeah, especially since we've been doing all this shooting and fighting in fucking public without giving it a second thought."

"Oh shit." Beth grunted, starting to haul Cena forward, but Batista turned and grabbed him, tossing him over a shoulder.

"Grab our things out of the room fast, I'll load him up and get the van started." Batista turned and hurried for the white van as the others bolted for the room. He opened the door of the van, clambering in with Cena over his shoulder and laying him across the seats, then turning and climbing into the driver's seat, fumbling around for the keys before locating them in the sun visor, jamming them into the ignition and cranking the engine. "Hurry up!"

Josh, Morrison, and Beth burst through the door of the hotel room, each carrying a couple of their duffel bags, while Jeff, carrying the last few shopping bags, pulled the door shut behind him and ran after, each of them climbing into the van and slamming the door. Batista immediately pushed the gears into place and pressed the pedal to the floor, peeling out of the parking lot as the sirens became loud enough for them to hear even through the closed windows.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Josh was muttering, actually sinking down into his seat as though to hide better, but just before the sirens sounded as though they were in the parking lot with them, Batista was on the street and moving down it, the cop cars whipping by on the adjacent street, apparently none the wiser of the white van containing the very people they were seeking.

"Do you think he meant it when he said the cops were in on this?" Jeff asked, still rubbing the back of his head.

"I don't know, but I don't want to risk it, either." Batista, winced. "Someone call Eddie or Chavo's cell phone and figure out where they are, tell them to be ready to get in the car fast because I don't want to stop if I can help it. We'd never outrun police cars in this thing."

Morrison and Josh pawed through some of the bags before locating one of the phones, Josh opening it to start dialing, as Beth slipped out of her seat and scooted onto the floor, moving next to Cena to turn his head so his face wasn't in the seat. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked, looking towards Batista. "What did they give him?"

"I don't know. Probably that same red shit they use for the brainwashing. It can really fuck a person up."

"Brainwashing...do you think they did anything to him? Is he gonna be all right?"

"I don't know. I don't think they did. They didn't have him drugged very long if he was able to yell for us to take Rey away during that phone call. He'll probably throw up a while and wake up completely paranoid for a bit, but he'll probably be fine as soon as it's out of his system."

Beth winced slightly, reaching up to lightly stroke Cena's face, even as Morrison called out.

"Got hold of Eddie. They're at a Burger King a couple of streets over, they'll meet us out front."

"Good." Batista made a quick turn, glancing in the rear view mirror to be sure no police were following them. "Then we get the fuck out of here before we get caught. We have to do something to make those guys back off us and fast."

"So what would that be?" Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.

Batista sighed softly, shaking his head. "Fucked if I know, man."