Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Chance had a buddy at the NYC fire department, Dwayne. His ticket into Manhattan despite the closed tunnels and bridges. Wearing the characteristic bunker gear of New York's bravest, complete with black helmet, he slowly rolled towards the deserted borough. Heavy rain was coming down and violent gusts of wind shook the mighty fire truck.
During his stint with the Old Man Chance had lived in the City for years. It truly was a place that never slept - the subway provided a constant droning noise level to begin with, and in addition to that there was the cacophonous sound of the never ending traffic where everybody seemed to be communicating by hooting the car horn... Not to mention the sidewalks, always packed with people.
Seeing the urban canyons of Manhattan now, bathed in apocalyptic rain, with no cars and no people... Chance usually wasn't very perceptive to that kind of atmosphere, but it was a creepy sight.
"Are you sure you want to go out there?", Dwayne asked as they reached the street corner Chance had named. "Communication is constantly in danger of breaking down. You'd be completely on your own..."
Chance could tell his friend was worried and the fireman in Dwayne, with its strong protective instinct, was probably screaming at him right now for letting a civilian walk on these streets in that weather. But he also knew what Chance was capable of, had witnessed it first hand, actually, and if anyone could make it through that storm alive, it was him.
"Our job is to save lives, you know... so whoever is out there that needs your help, we could take over for you...", Dwayne tried one more time nevertheless.
"You'll have your hands full enough tonight", Chance replied, shaking his head. "The buildings look deserted, but this borough is far from being truly evacuated. More than sixty percent of New York City's unsheltered homeless population have their home base in Manhattan. We're talking about thousands of people sleeping on the streets and in the subway system. Many of them suffering from serious mental illnesses or addiction disorders. They simply don't grasp what "hurricane" means. Don't think social services managed to get them all into the shelters..."
Dwayne nodded. This storm, just like any other natural disaster, was going to hit those worst who already had nothing. They were, inevitably, the most ill-prepared with little to no resources to fall back on. After tonight their lives, this could be said almost with certainty, would be even worse than before... if they managed to make it through.
Nevertheless Chance would have happily left the rescue of Ilsa and Connie to the police or the fire department - he had no ambition to reach hero status by facing that storm alone... and probably leaving his son fatherless. But they only had a vague idea of where Ilsa and Connie were held prisoner. Guerrero had been able to narrow it down to four adresses - they couldn't possibly send the authorities on a wild goose chase with that monster hurricane approaching... and no real proof that Ilsa was in Manhattan at all.
Except for the fact that their source would have never lied to a knife-wielding Guerrero, that is, but they could hardly refer to that as evidence in front of a police officer.
The thought of his son made Chance's heart heavy. There was always the possibility that a job would go south really badly, that somebody had the shot and took it. But this was different - he was taking a giant risk and had little to no options to balance out the odds with his skills and abilities. This was a hurricane he was getting in the ring with... everybody has limits. There was no denying it: This was a suicide mission.
For Ilsa, however, Guerrero would try to break down the gates of hell... he wasn't terribly outspoken about it, flowers, silly songs and butterflies in the stomach just weren't his thing, but be that as it may, to him Ilsa was "the one". Chance knew that feeling all too well. He'd do the same for Ames. Determination alone, however, wouldn't cut it this time. As capable as Guerrero was in a million things, this job required brute force, muscle... Guerrero was by no means a lightweight, but in this storm... the mere thought of losing both Ilsa and Guerrero sent more icy cold shivers down Chance's spine than a thousand Manhattans without people could have ever caused.
As much as he loved his son - his name was burning in his mind like a bonfire - Ash was safe and dry in San Francisco. Ilsa and Guerrero needed him now.
The fire truck came to a halt at the street corner from where Chance would start his search.
The pavement was already half an inch under water. The howling wind was driving it forward - in an hour a river would be running here, with waves crashing against the streetlamps and vortexes above the sewer covers. As Chance's feet hit the water the sky opened up for a brief moment and the moon came into view - a full moon.
Full moons only occur when the moon is on the opposite side of the earth with the sun in between, which happens about every twenty-nine days. Earth and moon don't just float around in space, independently from each other. There's a strong connection between them. The moon's gravitational pull influences earth's oceans. It moves their waters, which results in tides, high tides and low tides.
Back in his Junior days Chance once covered up the assassination of a Russian Mafia don by manipulating his watch while he was visiting a small island in the North Sea not far off the coast. He made it look as if the don had drowned in his car after getting caught by the onset of high tide on his way back to the mainland. Baptiste, still an apprentice back then, had shaken his head at Junior's meticulous ways, but he had learned from it, as his later work proved clearly and distinctly.
When the moon is full, the gravitational pull of moon and sun combine because they're both in one line with earth, thus making low tides even lower and high tides even higher. Add strong winds, say from a hurricane, to that mixture and you get flooding in coastal areas which usually remain dry.
Chance looked down the street, dimly lit by lighting, and pressed his lips together. New York, with its famous high rises, was not only built upward, into the sky, it was also built downward, two to three floors deep into the ground, sometimes even more. These floors, where usually all the important devices of a building - the electricity supply, the heating, the water supply - were housed, would fill up, if not from the heavy rain then from the ocean's waters. They'd be experiencing power outages soon. And fires, from short circuits.
He hoped the Pucci women were on a roof somewhere, but his gut told him to check the cellars first.
As he trudged towards the first building on his list he briefly, very briefly thought about Eva Khan and the painted dragons. What in the world had she gotten herself into?
But it really was just a fleeting thought. He definitely had more urgent problems to face right now.