Authors Notes: Guys, my nieces got me sick with covid again. I'm gonna have to start spraying those little plague rats down with Lysol whenever they come by to visit. It was rough being put down like that again but I think working on this chapter between naps and bowls of soup is what kept me sane. I'm not 100% happy with it (but am I ever? Lol) but with my pudding brain I'm pleased to have managed what I did.

I hope you all enjoy the new chapter and as always hope that it was well worth the wait.

.

In Randy's opinion Sundays had to be the best day to do his job. He had been working security for over a decade now, seven of those years spent happily here at Maverick. At this point in his carrier he figured that he had seen it all. From break-ins trying to steal sensitive info to protesters swarming the building decrying the evils of PMC groups, and even a few stalker cases from individuals that could not accept no for an answer.

He knew this job like the back of his hand. Such experience also came with the knowledge of which days happened to be the easiest with the least amount of effort. If asked he would readily admit that Sundays were by far his favorite day.

Many people were at home sleeping in or sleeping off the previous nights revelries, no trouble from that angle. Others were at religious services with plans to spend the rest of the day with their family and relaxing. The rest were enjoying their day off. On days like today Maverick headquarters was nearly deserted. The multitude of cameras that the security team would have to watch typically stayed blissfully empty.

The ease of the day did not mean that the man slacked off however. There was still the cleaning staff present, working away with earbuds in. There was also the odd agent or two down in the gyms or VR rooms working on their skills, and the occasional pencil pusher with go-getter attitudes still lingering about to keep a sharp eye on. In spite of the stragglers, sitting in the control room on a Sunday simply watching the screens showcasing the near empty building made for a peaceful shift. One that he had fought hard to secure for himself in his seniority.

"You've not been listening to a word I've been saying, haven't you?" His coworker Dorian groused to him from his station. Randy had been so lost in his thoughts he had forgotten to pretend that he was even listening to his co-workers endless stream words.

"Nope." He said, letting the last syllable pop. He lounged back in his seat and unscrewed the cap of his soda and took a large fizzy swig. "We're supposed to be working, not gossiping." He replaced the cap on his drink and returned it to its discreet place in the floor under the desk before returning to his lounging.

"Pfffff, yeah ok." Dorian scoffed, flicking a wad of paper his direction and missing his target by a wide margin. "Since when did you decide that you didn't care about what's the word around the office?"

"Since you decided to start repeating yourself. You've told me that one before man." Randy returned the favor of the paper ball by launching a rubber band and his coworker.

"Wait. Really?" Dorian paused mid-attempt to grab the projectile out of the air. He spared a glance to his screens before retrieving the item from under his chair.

"You told me that bit of hot gossip last month. Which I don't believe a word of by the way." Randy tossed out, taking his eyes off the screens briefly to shoot his coworker a thoroughly skeptical look before returning to watching.

For all their chatter and lighthearted play, neither one of them truly lost focus on their job. The tightened security procedures as of late had made everyone tense. One of their own being targeted was not exactly something Maverick took laying down. But, as Randy had learned early on in his carrier, one could not be on high alert all the time. That was a fast track to burnout. Better to keep the atmosphere light but vigilant.

"Alrighty then, how about this one…"

Randy tuned his partner's gossip whoring out in favor of focusing on scanning through the cameras once again. The halls, the departments, the elevators, all looked undisturbed and peaceful.

He was about to fish out another rubber band to launch at his coworkers unsuspecting head when Randy paused. He could have swore he saw something...a brief flicker out of the corner of his eye. Whenever he had turned to look properly there had been nothing on the screen displays. After several moments of hard looking he had chalked it up to his mind playing tricks on him. Sometimes if you stare at these screens for too long you will start seeing things that weren't there.

Ignoring the rubber band in favor of soothing his suspicions, he decided to investigate the odd occurrence. Closer inspection and even a rewind of several of the feeds had revealed nothing. The elevators, the halls, everything was serene and as it should be. The liminal strangeness of the normally busy halls reigned supreme on this quiet Sunday. Randy let it go and let himself be carried off by Dorian's nearly endless flow of chatter.

The phone to the security office shrilly sounded out, startling Randy and abruptly halting Dorian's recounting of the latest affair rumors of the accountants on the seventh floor. He reached for the phone but Dorian was quicker to pick up the receiver.

"Secur…"

The man didn't even have time to get his greeting out before the words died in his throat. Randy watched with growing alarm as Dorian paled and lunged for his radio. A quick glance at the cameras still displayed that same peaceful Sunday solitude that he had been so enjoying earlier. What was wrong? Where was the trouble? Randy could not help but feel a little bit betrayed by the deceptive calm as he heard his co-worker call for any agents on site available to respond.

A frantic knocking at the door nearly startled him out of his seat.

The video feed showing right outside the security office reveled that the one who was so desperately trying to get in was the pretty brunette receptionist that always greeted him with a special smile on the days their schedules lined up. She looked up at the camera with pleading eyes and went back to pounding on the door, casting fearful glances down the hall. Without hesitation Randy jumped up to answer the door.

"What's wrong? Is there something…" He began to ask before the door had a chance to fully open.

The loud sound shocked his ears, but it was a much smaller concern to the shock that coursed through the rest of him. He rocked back with the force of the impact, red blossoming forth from the gunshot point blank to the chest. Randy was frozen in place with his mind refusing to accept what had just happened.

The receptionist emotionlessly swept past him firing into the room. Randy didn't bother turning around. He couldn't. All he could do is stare down at his own chest at the sudden injury. Vaguely, as if coming from far away, he heard Dorian cry something out but another gunshot drowned out whatever the other man was trying to say.

The spell that had Randy transfixed on the red slowly ruining his good uniform was broken as the man suddenly found himself kneeling on the ground. He didn't recall dropping. There was no feeling of gravity tugging him down to his knees nor the feeling of impacting the floor. The ringing of his ears and the haze of confusion entangled his mind as he looked around for answers.

Swaying as his thoughts deepened in their haze of confusion, the security guard turned to ask his coworker why he was on the ground. He saw that Dorian was on the ground as well, crumpled in an awkward pile by his overturned chair. The question that Randy was trying to ask came out not as words but as a burbling red wheeze.

Standing beside the crumpled form of his coworker stood the pretty receptionist. Only now she didn't look so lovely with her bright smile replaced by a blank look that would be more fitting on a mannequin than a human. She had connected herself to the computer with a black cord that snaked up under her hair to her neck. Like the echos of a dream mostly forgotten upon waking, Randy distantly recognized the images on the screen as the system to bypass protocol and send the whole building into lock down.

He didn't feel the carpet of the security room floor against his cheek as he sagged the rest of the way down. The last thoughts the man had was wondering if she was messing with the power as well because the usually brightly lit security room was suddenly becoming awfully dark...

-0-0-0-

John could hardly hold the gun steady as his father crept down the hall trying one locked door after another. It was not because of the challenging way he was forced to aim over the man's shoulder or the awkward way he was being held. It was because try as he might the teen couldn't seem to stop his hands from shaking.

They trembled along with the rest of him and he was terrified that if he actually needed to fire then his aim would be completely off. Thankfully they were not trapped in here incomplete darkness. The halls were dimly lit by the emergency lighting but the eerie atmosphere made the situation even more tense to the already rattled teen.

The thought of those men, particularly that cyborg with the blank metal mask for a face, rounding the corner and finding them only fueled the terrified tremors. The hunk of metal felt cold and heavy in his hand and he wanted nothing more than to drop it and blindly hold onto his father while they escaped.

If they could escape that is.

With the power out the elevators were shut down and their pursuers stood between them and the stairs. John briefly entertained the notion of suggesting to his father about dropping out of another window, but he savagely pushed the thought away as soon as it had sprung forth. That free fall had been far worse than getting shot and he would gladly take a hit to the other leg than experience that primal terror of plummeting through the air again.

Even if he hadn't been opposed to the idea of going out another window it was no good. Every door that his father tried was steadfastly locked, leaving them out in the halls with no cover. It seemed like there was no running or hiding from these people.

John couldn't remember being more terrified. He wanted to go back in time and laugh at himself for ever being scared of the man with the ponytail, Sam. That tense encounter in the hall and elevator earlier today was laughable in the face of this and felt like a lifetime ago.

John had tucked himself in a corner during those rising tensions, memories of being taken and the resulting nightmares running through his mind. Looking back on it with new perspective Sam had been all snarky words and gentle force in getting him to come along. But these men...these men were out to kill.

Instead of ominous texts, these men came with no warning. Whenever the door to their living quarters had suddenly opened John had expected lunch, not gunfire. Thankfully their guard had reacted far quicker than John had. Shots were exchanged before the teen even had time to duck behind the nearest object available. He remembered the utter confusion at what was happening, not quite able to understand it. He never had a change to wrap his mind around it when a stray round found its way to him

Being shot hurt worse than anything that he had experenced before. Not even a broken arm had immediately dropped him like that. John hardly had time to stifle the sound that was ripped from him and to process that he had been shot before Dad had appeared out of nowhere and stole him away. Then there had been the drop out the window.

He shuddered at the memory, wondering if he was going to have a phobia of heights now. He felt his father hold onto him more tightly having felt the tremor that ran through the teen. Another shiver ran through him at the memory of what had happened when they had got back inside and the two cyborgs followed them in.

Dad had done it so easily. Grabbing the knife, avoiding being shot, and stabbing the men without a blink of hesitation. John thought about how badly his hands had shaken when he had taken up the gun when it seemed like Dad was about to lose. His stomach twisted at the memory of seeing the blood spray through the air from the cut throats. It clenched even harder at the memory of how Dad looked in that moment. It was almost like he was...happy.

The ill feeling didn't leave him even when he shoved the memory down and away to stay with the rest of his nightmares. In fact, John was beginning to feel positively nauseous.

He was jarred from his thoughts as Dad turned away sharply from yet another locked door. The teen tried not to wince at the pain in his leg at the motion and grit his teeth against the protesting of his stomach. It felt wrong to complain about such things when he could look down over Dad's shoulder and see the two bullet wounds he had sustained.

They were sluggishly bleeding coating the man's back in blood and soaking the back of his sweatpants. It would not be too much longer before their pursuers could track them from bloody footprints, assuming that they could even find a place to hide that is. From all of George and Sunny's chatter John knew that cyborgs had the ability to feel pain but his father acted like the damage never even existed. John wished that he could be that strong instead of being taken down so easily and rendered all but useless.

There was a sharp "Ha." as his father finally found a door that had not been shut all of the way and quickly slipped the both of them into the shelter of the room. It was another office just like the one they had earlier busted through the window to enter. The lights were out but there was plenty of sun coming in from the spaces between the thick window blinds to see by

As his father headed as far away from the door as the room would allow, the movement was starting to become all too much for the teen to handle.

"Dad." John swallowed, his aim at the closed door wavering. "Dad I think I'm gonna be sick."

The change in position as he was carefully sat down on the floor and the pain in his leg at the action sent his stomach on the path of no return. John hardly had time to register the gun being plucked from his grip and a small office trashcan being placed in his arms before the heaving started.

John did his best to expel the contents of his stomach quietly. The last thing he wanted to do was give away their newfound hiding spot. He had no idea if he succeeded at the task as the muffled quality that the world had taken on from the gunfire was only drowned out by the ringing in his ears. The bitter taste of bile made him choke and sputter despite his best efforts to suppress it. The teen felt a reassuring hand on his back rubbing at the overly tense muscles.

"Sorry." John managed to gasp out before suppressing another heave.

"It's the shock. It's nothing to be embarrassed about." His father said reassuringly. How could the man be so calm? "I did far worse after my first firefight, believe me. A little vomit is nothing. Best to just let it out and not fight it."

"But they might hear and..." John spat the horrid tasting remnants out, "find us."

"They already know where we are."

The teen looked up at him in horror at the bluntly delivered statement. As if he didn't feel chilled enough those few words sent his blood running cold.

"What?" John asked in a raspy whisper.

"And if they don't they will soon. These walls have no shielding. We're gonna light right up on their Soliton Radar." The older man looked back to the door they had entered in from with a grim smile that gave John's already unsettled stomach a twist. "That's why I need you to listen close."

John pushed away the fouled trashcan and leaned in to hear better.

"With the building locked down we don't exactly have many places to run to. I don't know if there are more enemies out there or if it's just the two of them but with all the commotion and the building on lock down the alarm has definitely been raised amongst the agents here."

"Are they coming for us?" John asked, the thought of help on its way giving a sense of relief so strong it almost made him dizzy. That same relief was short lived upon seeing that with the unsettling look his father wore did not fade but intensified.

"As the situation stands, the agents won't find us before they do. You're not going to like this but time needs to be bought until that help can get to us. I'm going to go face them and try to buy us that time. You," He looked at John pointedly. "are going to stay here. If anyone comes through that door that isn't me, you shoot, you hear me. And then you get out of here. Understand?"

"But Dad…" John had several protests all fighting with one another to be spoken first. His father was already hurt and the other men had weapons. The teen had already seen that bullets were not very effective on the cyborg's armor. What could John accomplish by shooting other than stall it a moment? Then there was the fact that he couldn't get away, not like this. Walk? Maybe, but certainly not run. Each of the arguments he wanted to make failed to come forth leaving the teen sputtering helplessly.

"We don't have very many options here John. Besides, they want me, not you. But they've already proven that they are willing to hurt you to get to me. I can't let that happen...No matter if I win or lose, you should be safe. You are my main concern here."

"But Dad…" John protested much louder this time, alarm at the look on his fathers face sending a jolt through him. Returning the second gun to John, the man planted a quick kiss to the side of the teen's head and stood to leave.

"Remember: the normal man, center mass. The cyborg, try and aim for the joints or seams in the armor. You won't kill him, but you can at least slow him down enough for you to try and get away."

"Dad!" John tried to reach for him to desperately try to keep him from leaving but the older man had already slipped beyond his outstretched fingers. The teen watched him go, trying not to panic at the prospect of being left alone. His father gave him one last unreadable look before slipping out into the hall and closing the locked door behind him.

John stared at the closed door for several heartbeats, fighting the urge to panic all over again. With trembling hands he took up the firearm once more. Getting his good leg underneath him, he partially crawled, partially shuffled his way across the floor to sit behind one of the solid looking desks.

Peering over the top of the desk to watch the door carefully, John was greeted by a picture frame sitting unobtrusively beside the computer monitor. The picture presumably depicted the owner of said desk along with their family in a candid shot taken in a park. John felt a twinge of envy at the smiling faces all huddled up with one another. They didn't have to worry about their family being torn apart by madmen. They were all there together instead of some missing, some hiding, and the other going out to get into a losing fight in a play for some time.

In a flash of self pitying spite, John reached over and sat the picture face down with a sharp clack. He turned his attention back to the door and eyed it intently, halfway expecting it to burst open and more blank faced invaders come through. He also wished that his ears were not stunned because try as he might John could not hear anything that could be happening out there.

The teenager needn't have worried about not being able to hear what was going on as the unmistakable sounds of gunfire soon sounded out from the hall.

John immediately ducked down, taking shelter behind the desk. As best as he could tell, the shots could be heard from two distinct areas, each one making him flinch and duck further behind the desk. No doubt that it was Dad firing at those blank faced men.

A quick peek around the side of the desk reassured him that no one had entered. Recalling his fathers instructions, John pulled the nearby office chair close to him as something that he could use to pull himself up should he need to attempt to flee, and took aim at the door.

It was a struggle to keep the sights aimed properly as the shaking in his hands had yet to subside. The longer the gunfire was exchanged in the halls beyond the worse the unsteadiness became. He took a moment to quickly run through some controlled breaths as he became aware that he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Before John could bring himself under control the halls fell eerily silent.

The door remained shut and he could hear no one approaching. There were no shadows cast from someones approach on the thin sliver of dim light from the bottom of the door. John stared hard at that small gap, both willing his father to return and dreading someone else crossing that threshold.

John let out a small gasp as there was a series of heavy thuds from out in the hall. Soon there was pounding footsteps of someone running. A shadow abruptly fell, passing by the door then was gone followed quickly by another shadow. Soon the unmistakable sounds of fighting out in the hall reached his stunned ears. The sounds had the teen subconsciously pulling himself up on his feet with the aid of the desk to watch the door hard.

His stomach began twisting again as he imagined what was happening out there. His father fighting alone, already hurt, and without any more bullets. John looked down at the weapon in his own hands, the one he had used to help out earlier.

Nearly involuntarily, John took a step forward at the overwhelming impulse to go out there and help his father once again. They would have never have made it out of that room with the two invaders from the window if John hadn't have taken action. What if, right now, a similar situation was unfolding except this time he wasn't there to help?

It was only the pain in his leg and the memory of the deathly serious look that Dad had given him when he had told John to stay put that had him remain in place. The pull between wanting to go help and being told to stay was absolutely unbearable.

It was only when the sounds of the scuffle in the halls ended with a choked off cry of rage that could have come from no one else but Dad was John's mind made up for him.

Shuffling past the supportive reach of the desk nearly had John buckling immediately in his attempts to walk. Thudding sounded out in the halls but at nowhere near the intensity of earlier. Even with his ringing ears John could tell that they were moving further away.

'They're taking him again.' The teen suddenly realized.

The chill that ran down John's spine seemed to numb his leg with its cold touch. The pain seemed a distant concern as he hobbled his way across the room in the face of what was happening. 'Not again.' the boy desperately thought as he forced his feet to move. Each step came faster than the previous one as he soon realized that he could hear nothing in the halls any longer.

John savagely brushed away the small part of his brain that protested his actions and insisted that he stay put just like he had been told. They were taking Dad. They were taking him away again and John was not about to hide in the dark and accept it. He already had to accept it once but never again. He didn't know what all he could do, but he had a soul deep feeling that there was no way that he would ever forgive himself if he didn't at least try.

Leaning heavily against the frame, John flung the door open and raised his weapon with a snarl that was part anger, part terrified grimace. An involuntary sigh of relief escaped him as there was no one immediately attacking him. A quick look about revealed a few dark spatters of blood on the floor. Also several paces down near an intersection in the hall lay the gun that John recognized as the one his father had stolen.

Hobbling the best he could in the hall with the wall as support, John desperately made his way to the intersection where the gun lay. The spent shells stood in stark contrast against the clean floors of the Maverick building but there were no further clues as to which way they had gone. Looking left and right John could not tell which way the invaders had taken Dad.

He strained his ears but could hear nothing over the persistent ringing and the furious pounding of his heart. He let out a growl of frustration that sounded more like a pleading whine. The creeping feelings of failure and the halt in his momentum gave his leg an opening to make its complaints well known. Another desperate sound escaped him, sounding more like a sob this time as he leaned against the wall.

Before he could fall to despair in his indecision another thud sounded out in the left hand hall. The sound was followed by the unmistakable voice of Dad letting out a rare swear. Heavily leaning against the wall for support, John took off in that direction as quickly as he could.

'Hold on Dad. I'm coming.' John thought as he took off in a limping run down the hall, gun at the ready.

The teen rounded rounded a corner, then another, and nearly fell as he abruptly came to a stop. There they were, right in front of him.

The cyborg with the metal face plate held Dad close in a painful looking headlock. In the cyborgs other hand held a gun pressed tightly under his fathers jaw, forcing his chin high. Dad didn't seem to care much about the threat of the weapon at all as he still struggled to pry himself free and kick at his opponent. The business man stood off to the side, staying well away from thrashing feet.

The three men turned in unison to look at the teen's unexpected arrival in the hall. John quickly raised his weapon but was unsure where to aim.

The enraged look that his father wore morphed into one of shock and disbelief once he had spotted John.

"John! What the hell are you…" The cyborg held him more tightly against his renewed struggling. "Run!" The man shouted at him.

John was frozen with uncertainty. Running was not an option. He couldn't abandon Dad now, especially since he needed help. The way the cyborg had his father held close, John didn't think he could trust his aim enough even if his hands were not shaking. John swallowed hard and aimed at the average man as the only safe target that he could manage at the time.

"Let him go!" The teen commanded, the crack in his voice killing any authority that the words may have held. Tightening his finger against the smooth metal of the trigger, John tried to show that he was serious. "I mean it!"

"John get the fuck out of here!" The teen flinched at the anger in his father's voice. He had never heard Dad use that tone before even at his most frustrated, much less had it directed towards himself. But it was too late to back out of this now.

"I can't do that Dad." The teen fought hard to keep his voice steady against the fear and pain. "Let him go or I shoot!" The boy commanded again.

No emotion could be gleaned from the cyborg with the metal face plate, but judging by the almost bland expression on the normal man's face John's threats meant very little to them. The two invaders looked at him for several tense moments then turned in unison and continued their way around a corner as if he were not even there, his father in tow.

Through the hurt and terror John felt an incandescent flash of pure indignation. He knew that he was far from intimidating but to have them turn their backs on him and not take him seriously was enraging. The hit to his ego and the sight of that combat cyborg forcing his now unresisting father along was enough to override any sense of caution.

"Hey!" John shouted at the retreating group. The weapon in his hand no longer felt heavy and ominous. Perhaps it was the teen's rage at the situation but it now reminded him of an attack dog straining at it's leash, thirsting for violence. Here were the people that broke up his family. Here were the people still hurting his family. Only this time he had the chance to do something about it.

Adjusting his grip more tightly, John shuffled after the group hoping to manage a shot or two at their backs. Hopefully that distraction would allow Dad the chance to break free and take care of them just like they did with the other two guys. Then the two of them could get out of here together.

John reached the corner the small group had just rounded, weapon held at the ready and fully prepared to use it this time. What he didn't anticipate was an arm clothed in a white business shirt to shoot out from behind the corner and clamp onto his wrist like a vice and pull him forward.

In a blind panic at the unexpected attack, John fired off two quick rounds. One of the rounds came so close to business man's head that the teen could see the hair from his poorly done comb over be disturbed by the breeze of it. Before he had time to fire again the gun was ripped savagely from his grasp and his wrist released.

John recoiled instantly, trying to gain some distance between himself and his attacker. His attempts fell woefully short as his leg had finally had enough abuse and buckled from underneath him. He hit the tile floor hard with a yelp.

In vaguely familiar movements that seemed to flow gracefully, made all the more odd by the man's mundane appearance, John watched as he checked the clip and tucked the weapon into the pocket of his dress pants and then pulled a blade from his waistband.

A detached part of his mind recognized the knife as the one Dad had stolen and used. The memory of how cleanly it had cut through the necks of the two cyborgs overshadowed any resistance that sprung to mind. His bravado burnt out in the face of his helplessness, John could only watch in numb shock as the business man reached for him.

Instead of the cold bite of steel sinking into flesh, the man reached around with his free hand and grasped the back of John's collar. The teen choked as his shirt cut at his neck as he was unceremoniously hauled up to his feet by the unwavering intruder.

John was certain there were sounds of a struggle occurring down the hall. He was even positive his father was shouting something, probably to him. The words didn't reach him because all he could hear was the sounds of his terrified heartbeat. He gave an involuntary cry as he suddenly found himself in a firm, but a surprisingly painless headlock with the tip of the blade applied right under the side of his jaw.

The teen could not fully suppress the sound of pain that escaped him as his captor forced him to move forward and put weight on his injured leg. From down the hall John heard his name shouted out. He numbly realized that he had never heard what Dad sounded like frightened before now.

John nearly managed to draw blood on the point of the knife as he flinched violently when the man holding him suddenly spoke.

"Cooperate and the boy will be released unharmed."

John had expected the voice to sound forceful, unhinged perhaps given the terrifying way he had attacked out of nowhere and had nearly took a round to the head without so much as flinching. Instead the words were spoken calmly although John thought he detected an undercurrent of annoyance.

He didn't know what was worse, an aggressive demand for obedience or the fact that their desperate struggle to escape was so pitiable that it was just a mere irritation.

"Let him go." His father practically growled out. "He's injured and not a threat. He's got nothing to do with all of this. It's me you want."

"Indeed it is. The child will ensure your cooperation. Provided that the both of you cease fighting." The tip of the blade digging in made his point quite clear. John could not help the little involuntary gasp that escaped him at the increased pressure. He cast a pleading glance over at his father, looking for a sign for what he should do.

John was not certain he had ever seen someone so angry in his life. Dad's normally blue eyes were doing a freaky red glowing thing. The teen didn't care that he had once been told that it was sign of intense focus from a cyborg, it looked like a glow of pure hatred from where he stood.

"You'll let him go." Dad stared at the man intensely. It was a statement, not a question.

"I will." Was the sure reply. And the funny thing was, John actually believed him. He couldn't put a finger on it. Perhaps it was the way man held him without causing anymore pain than he could have. Or perhaps the boy didn't think someone as ruthlessly direct as this would want to waste his time with lies. Wrong or right, they would find out shortly if the man was true to his word.

With no further fight or words, father and son were forced against their will down the empty halls.

John managed to grit his teeth through the pain and not make a sound as they moved along, but only just barely. Thankfully the man holding him had no issue with the teen holding onto the arm around his neck for support. He didn't think he could manage to hobble along at the pace they were going without putting his weight on something.

The small group stopped in front of the elevators that he and Dad had intended to escape down earlier. John's jaw dropped with equal parts surprise and indignation as he saw the machine light up brightly and become functional even though all else was on emergency power. He didn't have time to dwell upon the unfairness of it all as the two of them were pulled inside.

"Push the button for the ground floor." The man holding him commanded as they stood closest to the control panel. John reached out a shaking hand and did as he was told. The elevator began to descend, bringing them closer and closer to a fate that everyone here at Maverick had worked so hard for so long to prevent.

John tried not to let the fear show on his face even though the man holding him fast could no doubt feel the tremors that was running through him. On the dully reflective surface of the elevator doors the teen tried to meet his father's eyes, but the man would not look his way. Dad stood stiffly in his captors grasp with the most seething venomous expression John had seen on a person. It stung to know that some of that look was for him.

Eventually John could not take it any more.

"I'm sorry Dad." The softly spoken words might as well have been a shout with the way it shattered the brittle silence of the elevator. "I tried."

"Why didn't you stay where I told you to?" With the lowly hissed question his father glanced at him briefly then returned to glaring straight ahead. "You knew better. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I couldn't lose you again." John confessed brokenly. The teen didn't get a reply back but he watched through the doors as the sound of his brokenhearted honesty melted some of the harshness from his father's face.

If John wasn't already looking at their reflections on the metal he would have missed it. As it was he blamed the tears blurring his vision and causing him to see things until it appeared again.

Emotion.

The man holding him fought to keep a frown from his face. It was not a particularly noticeable look, more like someone trying to keep a moment of discomfort private. Although in comparison to the blank almost mannequin like expression that the man had been wearing the entire time it was striking. The look was gone as quickly as it came but it was enough to distract John from fear and tears in wonderment of what it could have meant.

There was little time for the teen to think it over as they quickly reached the ground floor. John didn't know what he expected to see when the elevator doors opened but it certainly was not several guns pointed his way. Three Maverick agents were ready for them as they disembarked.

"Let them go! Now!" The lead agent barked out.

"Drop your weapons or the kid dies." John's captor replied immediately, the steel in his voice leaving no room for compromise for the men before them. John was convinced that he had seen some of them before on guard rotation but he was far more preoccupied by the tip of the blade slowly pressing into his neck and threatening to break skin than trying to put names to faces.

"Listen to him." That was Dad as he and the cyborg exited the elevator. "He said that if we cooperate John gets released."

"Raiden…" The leader wavered before lowering his gun and finally placing it on the floor. A few heartbeats later the other two followed suit. "You really don't believe that, do you?"

"Not like I have much of a choice." His father bit out before being marched down the hall by his captor. John really didn't like the sympathetic looks the other three men were shooting him.

"Don't follow us." His captor commanded before dragging John off in the same direction.

John tried to think of something he could do, anything he could do, but he could not seem to get his limbs to obey his commands. He thought about struggling to pull the arm with the knife away from him. About trying to kick and squirm free enough for the three men behind them to be able to take action without worrying about his throat being cut. But in the end all he could do was numbly allow himself to be hauled along down the halls until they reached their destination of the blackened parking garage.

The cyborg taking his father was several paces ahead. As soon as John and his captor had stepped into the garage, the knife briefly parted ways with his throat as the man reached behind them and closed the door. The ominous click of the door locking and cutting them off from any help was almost like a death knell.

In the cool area blanketed in darkness except for the sparse yellow lights on the concrete columns, John began to give into despair. Dad was going to be taken away again and he was completely helpless to do anything about it. And he had no idea what was going to happen to himself.

Was he going to be released or taken along to ensure Dad wouldn't fight anymore? Or once they had his father secure would they just leave him bleeding out on the concrete in the dark? The hopelessness of the situation numbed him to the point that even tears seemed to have abandoned him.

Abruptly all hell broke loose.

The first thing John registered was the side of his face becoming drenched. The knife threatening to break skin suddenly was no longer there. Reflexively looking towards the source of the wet, he saw the white clad arm fall away into the darkness. The twisting of the knife as it fell away reflected back the emergency lights, glinting in slow motion.

The teen was still trying to comprehend what he had seen when the next thing he knew was the grip around him was ripped away. The force of the action sent him tumbling to the ground. While John might have been confused about what was happening and what he had just witnessed, he knew an opportunity when he saw one.

The teen rolled with the motion until he hit a wheel and quickly scurried underneath the vehicle. As he did so the deafening sound of gunfire echoed harshly in the underground parking garage. From his position on the ground with the scent of motor oil and copper threatening to choke him, John tried his best to see what was happening out there.

At first he thought Dad had broke free and was fighting the men off again. That notion was shattered as he barely saw the pale color of his fathers bare feet some distance away, the man being pulled by the other cyborg. Instead, near the vehicle that John was hiding under there was a new pair of legs visible. The newcomer in boots and jeans stepped over the motionless body of the dress shirt man then charged off out of John's line of sight.

Scuffling mixed with the clash of metal against metal echoed out in the strange acoustics of the garage. Shadows danced along the concrete floor, the yellow of the emergency lights shining along with an unexpected red flashing light. There was a sizable thud that John could feel vibrate through the solid floor. A split second later there was a muted explosion that sounded what the teen could only describe as...splashy.

John shifted around to try and peer around a wheel at what was happening out there. His good sense was telling him to stay tucked away, that what was going on out there he wanted nothing to do with, and this time he listened to that sense. The panicky feeling of needing to hide away intensified exponentially as there was the sound of someone running in his direction.

John had no time at all to attempt to retreat further back away from whatever was out there when suddenly there was someone peering underneath the vehicle he was hiding under. The faint red glow of artificial eyes locked onto where he was nestled in the shadows instantly, killing any hope of staying hidden away in the darkness...