Page 9 of Hunter

  Episode 7

  Matters

  Light shown through to the large windows. The white room within the hospital made that light shine even brighter. While unusual, there was only one patient in the room.

  Jeff lay on the bed with his leg in a cast. A white-coated woman held a pair of scissors, very much intending on cutting the cast. He waited too long for it to come off. It had been three weeks since he broke his left leg in his encounter with Karns.

  The doctor looked at Jeff, "I hope this is the last time I'll see you, Mr. Hunter."

  Jeff replied, "I will guarantee that."

  The doctor glared at him, knowing what Jeff was meaning. "You better not be intending on doing anything dangerous," she said in a scolding manner, "Your last attempt at first aid set you back a week."

  "I assure you the last thing I want is to get injured again. But I can't exactly guarantee it, since my work is very dangerous."

  She growled, "As you have said a few times." She began to cut the cast open, moving slowly and carefully. "Although the leg is fully healed, I suggest not doing anything too strenuous for the next few weeks."

  Jeff said, mostly to alleviate the doctor's mind, "I'll keep that in mind."

  A voice echoed into the room. Across the hallway, a man yelled loudly. The half-closed door made it so that Jeff couldn't understand what it was about. He didn't care much about it. His interest at the moment was in getting back on his feet.

  The commotion was enough to grab the doctor's attention. She stopped cutting the cast halfway through. She put the scissors down and walked to the doorway. From there, she could see that the man was irate and possibly drunk.

  "I said I don't want to take any more of your crap!" the man yelled. He was angry. That anger was directed less toward the staff than towards other issues he had. But people were there and in his way.

  The doctor walked out, approaching the man. She tried to be calm in the face of the very angry man who seemed to be turning violent. "Sir, what's the problem?"

  The man swiftly turned to the doctor, yelling right into her face, "I'm sorry, was I being a bit TOO LOUD."

  She remained calm. "Yes, now if you..."

  The man interrupted her, "Calm down! Doesn't anyone know that saying that doesn't make the guy calm!"

  Jeff was trying to remove the cast himself, but found it was still stuck. He gave up removing it and chose to get off the bed. It was awkward walking directly on the cast, but he did so anyway. Moving to his jacket and other stuff he had on him, he removed the stun-pistol.

  The man twirled around and yelled to the crowd, "You want to know what I want, I want you all to...."

  A stun bolt flew right into the man. He collapsed onto the floor. The nurses raced to check to see if he was fine. The doctor was shocked, not ever seeing a weapon like that. Turning around, she saw Jeff holding the stun-pistol.

  The doctor yelled at Jeff, "What the hell was that?"

  "This is a piece of experimental technology I got my hands on."

  The doctor was not happy with the terminology. "Experimental?"

  "Relax, it's been well tested. He'll be out for about two hours." Jeff walked back into his room.

  The doctor turned back around to check on the new patient. The nurses nodded positively, wordlessly telling that he was find. "Anyone know who this guy is?"

  The nurse behind the counter, the one that was the first to be yelled at, answered, "That's Parker Jaden."

  The doctor recognized the name. Nodding in confirmation, she was now more solemn toward the unconscious man. One of the nurses had taken a stretcher and the entire group was now raising him up onto it.

  Jeff waited in the new patient room. It was nearly identical to the one he was in just a few hours before. It was the placement of the window, placed across the long wall, that made the lighting quite different.

  He was at the end of the bed while Parker slept soundly. Jeff had waited for the better part of an hour. The stun bolt had put the man under longer than Jeff expected.

  Looking up, he saw that Parker started to groggily wake up. The patient looked around his new surroundings, then saw Jeff. He wasn't surprised. Although he didn't exactly remember much before he was knocked out by the stun-pistol, this wasn't a new occurrence.

  "Where am I?"

  Jeff explained, "At the hospital. You had walked in to get some medicine, drunk."

  "I'm not surprised," he said, almost as if he was expecting it, "So how bad is it doctor?"

  "I'm not a doctor."

  He looked at Jeff more carefully. It was then he noticed that the man before him had no white coat, or anything else that identified him as a doctor. "Oh. Then why are you here?"

  "I'm an investigator. Doctor Harden recognized you from the news."

  "So you know what's going on with my life."

  Jeff shook his head negative. "Not really. I just got the jist of things from the doctor."

  That confused Parker, "You don't watch the news at all?"

  "Not really."

  He began his story, "My girlfriend, Riley Oakland, has been missing for several weeks now. They believe she's dead."

  "Is that what you think?"

  "I....yeah," He was about to say something else, something that held hope. But that hope dwindled quickly. "I was hoping she was alive. But...she always called. Never asked her to, she just made sure to always reassure me everything would be fine."

  "Now it isn't."

  Parker nodded, "Two days ago, the commissioner said the case has gone cold. Do you really think you can help."

  Jeff reassured the recovering man, "I'll try. I can't guarantee anything, but that's the risk I'll take."

  Jeff was inside the office section within the police station. This one was more structured, with more labeled doors and only one small room that had four desks. He had passed by a few large locker rooms, featuring more names then there were desks. The entire station looked retrofitted from an entirely different purpose.

  The lead detective was leading him to the files archives. Since this was a closed case, the detective has more latitude to give Jeff information. "Unfortunately, this was one of those cases that we got no leads to begin with."

  "You didn't find anything, at all?"

  The detective shook his head negative. "Nope. Trouble is, missing persons need to be found rather quickly. After around forty-eight hours, it becomes exponentially difficult to find a person. After a week...it goes down substantially. Several months it becomes impossible until we get a very good lead."

  He turned, taking a set of keys out in front of the locked door. Setting the right key in, he opened the door for Jeff. The two wandered in, further leading Jeff in the maze of archived case reports and evidence.

  Jeff asked, "So why do you think she's dead?"

  "You'll see when I get the files out."

  They arrived at their destination. It didn't look any different than the other boxes. It was labeled, "Oakland, Riley. Missing Person." The detective grabbed it while holding the boxes below to make sure they didn't spill over. He continued to hold the box while he opened the top and removed a set of pictures.

  "No one heard the gun shots. We found several bullet holes, though we never found the bullets themselves."

  The detective handed Jeff the pictures. He immediately shifted through them with quick glances. The first was of the door, left wide open. The next was a bullet hole that spider-webbed the glass. There was further pictures of both of those, each taken at different angles.

  Then came a picture of a floor - with a blot of blood on it. It had a ruler to show that it was far from just a drop, but was not where a body bled out.

  "You found blood," Jeff said to the officer.

  "Yes. The C.S.U. people said it was substantial, but not enough to kill a person. She might have bordered on unconsciousness, though more likely was just dizzy and experiencing various symptoms of shock."

  "So she was taken?"

  Detecti
ve tilted his head, "We can't be exactly sure, but that seems the most likely scenario."

  Jeff was curious by the wording of that. "Why can't you be sure?"

  "The problem is that we found no footprints, or fingerprints to indicate that other people were in the home. The door was not forced in, though the boyfriend did say that she didn't lock it during the daytime."

  "So you know she didn't leave by choice. What about her vehicles?"

  The detective simply replied, "Both left in the garage."

  "Both? She lived with someone?"

  The detective shook his head, "Nope. From what we learned, one was a casual vehicle, the other used for camping. She apparently was a writer that worked a lot in the outdoors."

  Continuing off that tangent, Jeff asked, "She wrote about the outdoors?"

  "Yup."

  He expected more, but decided to work with that. "So I doubt she made any enemies that way."

  "Well...that was one of the more unusual things about her. We couldn't ascertain where she earned most of her income."

  "Most?"

  "She got about fifteen-thousand dollars a year. But from our search of bank records, she got another forty from some other source. We couldn't determine from where."

  He knew what that meant, "You think it's from a suspicious source?"

  The detective's expression showed that wasn't entirely the case, "It was through a direct deposit. Not exactly the route a black marketer would take to pay someone."

  "So you didn't pursue it further."

  "Nope. I highly doubt that company would be involved, at least directly. No, the shooting has more in common with the street gangs. They usually don't go into that neighborhood. But if she got on one of their bad sides, they would have no bones about going out of their way."

  "Do you have a squad focused on those gangs?"

  "They stone-walled us, saying they found nothing. It's not uncommon of them. For them, the big picture is their goal."

  Jeff looked back down at the photos. "Is the house still open?"

  "It was cleared by C.S.U, but it hasn't been available for sale yet."

  Jeff handed the pictures back to the detective, who subsequently set them back into the box. "Though I doubt you missed anything, it's as good as any place to start. Thanks, detective."

  "If you come up with anything, I'm glad you helped. Just make sure you stay out of trouble."

  Jeff almost scoffed at the comment. He knew that would be difficult at best, considering his history as an investigator. "I'll try."

  The home was warm in appearance as Jeff walked through the open door. As always, he held his glasses. He didn't care much to look at the aesthetics of the house.

  Finding former location of the blot of blood was easy - there was a section of hardwood floor missing. It was in the hallway, where the outside light illuminated the area. Jeff looked at the windows, which had been taken out at that time. He could still tell exactly where everything was.

  Jeff gestured toward the windows, guessing that was where the bullet would have hit her. Using that trajectory, he looked at the wall. There was no hole. "The bullet must still be in her. Probably low caliber. But only a single bullet...means they aimed. They saw her and aimed."

  It wasn't a simple hit-and-run. But the open door concerned Jeff about the scenario.

  "If it was a simple sniper, then why is there no damage to the door? Did she run, or someone else get her?"

  Looking back, he saw that there was a glass door to the back. Walking there, he noted that the back yard wasn't very large. There was nothing of importance there, it was just pure green with grass. Jeff inspected the glass. There was several fingerprint smudges where she would open the door. "Wouldn't be surprising they checked these out already."

  Moving on, he walked down a small flight of stairs to a doorway. Opening it revealed the garage.

  There was two cars. Both were in very good condition, indicating she valued the otherwise normal vehicles.

  Jeff was curious about the smaller of the two. He used his glasses to scan, finding the interior structure too complex to view from such a wide angle. Moving closer, he checked to see if the door was open. Flicking the handle revealed that the door gave way with little resistance.

  Using his glasses, he first scanned the glove compartment. There was plenty of papers, but nothing suspicious. Next was the center compartment. He found what looked like a power adapter for the cigarette lighter.

  Then he shifted a bit, intending to push himself back up and out of the car. As soon as he got up, Jeff noticed something. It was under the car seat - a compartment. Searching for a short bit, he found one of the levers had a second connection. Pulling it up, he found the seat popped up.

  The compartment was empty. However, there was small signs of the contents it had held. A few flecks of white dust, not much but still visible, lay at the bottom.

  Jeff sighed, knowing what the dust exactly was. "Now I know why she was a target..."

  The newsroom was bright with the windows letting in the afternoon light. Looking back into the offices and production rooms, activity swirled all around. Jeff tried to call the police department, but all the officers were too busy to answer any questions. So he went to the next best place.

  Jeff walked up to the front desk. He directly asking the receptionist, "Can I talk to Rick Veritas?"

  The young man turned. It was apparent this wasn't his preferred occupation, but held to performing his duties. "Sure. Who are you?"

  "Jeffrey Hunter, a private investigator. I need to get some information on the local drug runners that you covered a year ago."

  He got up from his seat, "I'll get him for you."

  While he went to the offices, Jeff hovered around. He barely wondered half-way across the small waiting area before a man approached him. The thin man held out for a handshake. Jeff returned it quickly as he formally introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Rick. You wanted to know more about drug traffickers?"

  "Yeah, specifically on any rivalries they have."

  Rick showed all too well the scale of the problem that Jeff was asking about. "It's pretty serious. The Drug Task Force is up to their necks with various reports relating to all the gangs we have. Heck, I wasn't even the one who proposed the original story; it was Mary. But the way some of these gangs treat women...I don't even want even go down that route."

  "Unfortunately, I may have to. The person I'm looking into, was a woman possibly involved with one."

  "Well, in this city there's three major gangs," the writer explained, "The smaller ones float between them, making various alliances to survive. The Ragers would definitely not allow a woman in their ranks. The other two would, although they are certainly a minority."

  "What do these "Ragers" think of the women from the other gangs."

  "If they stayed within their own territories, they generally are ignored. If a man crosses, they're generally tortured and killed. For women," Rick gave a grim look, "They're the reason there's not many woman join the gangs."

  Jeff kept to a more analytical tone, "I take it that outright assassination is not their general M.O."

  "There hasn't been a single case of that by them, at least intentionally."

  "How about the other two, would they attack the other gangs?"

  "They do conspire occasionally against the Ragers, but the alliance doesn't last long." Then it hit the reporter what this conversation was really about. "Wait, you're investigating an assassination?"

  Jeff replied, "Possibly, can't say for certain yet."

  "When did this happen?"

  "A few weeks ago. It's some new information I found. If you're thinking of making this a story, stop right there. I don't want to say anything until I find out more."

  Rick nodded, folding his arms at the comment. "Alright. If you can relieve the gang problem, even if by a little bit, I'm glad I helped. After all, that's why I do this."

  Jeff nodded in approval, "And I'll thank you for that. G
ood day, Mr. Veritas." Jeff turned to the glass doorway, heading to his first lead.

  Jeff slowly walked around the city streets. He knew from the articles that this area was filled with various crime activity, including drug trade. The walls heavily supported that fact. Graffiti was almost randomly sprayed on all of the brick walls. If one could remove each layer of paint, it would have shown the history of the city district and its occupants.

  Jeff moved slowly to not give himself away. A scientist in this realm stuck out more than a nail on a board. And the common phrase involving those nails would apply here.

  There was whispering. It wasn't particularly soft, as though the two had no fear of being heard. Jeff dodged out of sight. He leaned around a corner to try to get a sight at the two men.

  They were young, would be attending college in another life. One was holding something in his hand: a white brick. Jeff could tell they weren't done, that the negotiation had yet to be complete.

  What he couldn't tell was the exact words. All he could hear was only the muffles that came around the brick wall.

  So Jeff waited and watched as much as he could. As one of the men turned and looked around for something suspicious, Jeff ducked backed into cover. While behind the wall, he had to use his glasses to guess when the search was done. There was little detail that he could see, but it would have to do until he could get a direct line of sight again.

  It took a long while, but Jeff waited until the dealer handed over the brick. Right after that, the two separated and headed opposite directions. Jeff slowly walked a bit further when he saw the receiver walk his direction.

  The man turned, not noticing Jeff since he was looking down the main street. Then he looked up, only seeing the flash of Jeff's stun-pistol. The dealer didn't notice a thing, continuing to walk down the street towards his destination. Jeff followed a short distance away. He tried to be as stealthy as possible, hoping not to be noticed.

  He continued following until the dealer turned into an old apartment building. From there, Jeff stayed back farther, using his glasses to keep track of where the man walked.

  The dealer walked up a short flight of stairs. It was only the second floor when he turned from the stairway to the nearby open door. Inside was his roommate, playing a videogame. He barely acknowledged his entrance, waving his hand before engrossing himself back into the game.

  Jeff kept up the pursuit, walking up the same stairway. He saw the door was mostly closed. A crack still showed the pacing dealer. Readying himself, Jeff removed his second stun-pistol. Tensing up, he watched where the two men were with his glasses. Then he charged in.

  With his left hand, he easily aimed at the standing dealer. Then his right aimed at the sitting gamer. Neither had much of a chance to react, the gamer barely dropped the controller when Jeff shot him.

  The dealer woke up. He immediately saw that his computer was across from him. Trying to get up, he quickly found himself strapped into the seat. Jeff towering next to him. "Good morning, Mr. Halberd."

  He yelled, "Who the hell are you?"

  "That isn't all that important."

  "It'll be important when my 'mate wakes up to kick your..."

  Jeff cut him off, "That's not happening. He'll be out for another three hours. I made sure of that. Anyway, you'll be answering my questions."

  Halberd laughed. "You are insane."

  "I doubt that. Anyway..." Jeff removed a picture, one cut from a newspaper article. It was of Riley Oakland. "I need to know if you have seen or heard of this woman."

  Halberd was still weird-ed out by this conversation. "You think I'll talk! Man, if you knew anything, you would know that we don't talk to cops. Ever."

  Jeff stood confidant that he'll succeed. "Well, I'm not a cop."

  Halberd scoffed at that notion, "Whatever."

  Jeff moved to the computer. Flicking the mouse revealed his plan. There was a e-mail, typed up and ready to be sent. "You really should set your e-mail not to remember your passwords. It really helped me make it look like you did talk."

  Now Halberd was worried. "Wait, you know what they'll do!"

  Jeff moved the mouse to where it was a simple click would send the e-mail. "Yeah. It's your choice. Plausible deniability, or..." Jeff hovered his finger over the mouse, slowly moving it in a very dramatic manner.

  Despite being very nervous that Jeff would go through on his threat, he kept his mouth shut. Even as it hovered lower and lower. It was mere inches from the mouse when he shouted, "They'll kill my brother!"

  Jeff stopped, looking directly at Halberd. The man's eyes spoke volumes of the anguish and pain that was at stake.

  "That's why. I'm in this for him."

  Jeff rhetorically asked, "You need the money?"

  "You think you know this part of town, you don't. No one gets out. If you don't join the Ragers, at best you'll die of starvation. It's better to stand with them. Leaving is a betrayal to everything we have!"

  Jeff stood over him, "So you think it's best just to join them."

  "What else would you do?"

  Jeff looked right into his eyes, "Fight. Do something to change things."

  "And wind up dead." Halberd had said in a more calm manner.

  Jeff replied, "You think you're just doing the best you can. But it isn't. I've seen it. I seen a man die because of his choices. I had to lie for him, for his children! Not because he was a good man, so then his children won't take the brunt of his mistakes. Do you want that? For your brother to go through the same thing as you!"

  Jeff walked back to the computer when Halberd spoke.

  He was calm, defeated. "It wasn't us. All the bosses asked around, to make sure the police didn't get up our butt. We kill, we do evil things. But we aren't idiots. We avoid high profile things like that."

  Jeff looked at him, with a little approval. He took the mouse, at first looking like he would go through with this threat. Instead he closed the program.

  Calmly, Jeff walked across to the other room. He returned with small length of a metal pipe. Halberd knew what it was for. Before the gang member could protest, Jeff swung it right into his face.

  Nose bloodied, Halberd yelled, "What the hell?"

  "As I said, plausible deniability," Jeff replied. He simply dropped the pipe. His hand drew behind him, summoning the stun-pistol.

  The gang member said to Jeff, "What if they still think I talked? How does that make you feel?"

  Jeff took on a grim look in his features. "Not good. But I've seen your rap sheet. Five assaults, one that led to the victim's death. I don't care who you're involved with, you have a choice. And you chose poorly.

  "For that, I can not forgive you. Not yet." Jeff lifted the stun pistol and shot Halberd in the chest.

  Jeff found the box of evidence. He was in the police department's evidence room, given permission by another officer to go through everything. It was unusual, but Jeff convinced the police officer that it was necessary.

  Setting the box on the ground, he shuffled through it. He was trying to find something. Papers were set aside. The short search came up empty. Covering it back up, he set it back to the designated spot.

  The detective passed by in the large room. He then saw that Jeff had set the box back. In his hands was another evidence box, but turned to face Jeff. "Did you need something?"

  Jeff shrugged, then decided to ask, "Did you find any GPS devices or smart phones at Riley's house?"

  The detective shook his head negative. "Nope. No cell phones at all, or any GPS'. Why do you ask?"

  Jeff sighed, "I was hoping to figure out where she went."

  "As in for her outdoor books?" the detective asked.

  "I was hoping more inside the city, but that may work as well."

  "Within the city? Didn't find anything." The detective thought about it for a second, trying to give an alternative answer. One came, "However, I'd talk to the boyfriend."

  Jeff nodded, "Yeah, because she always told him where she wa
s. I was hoping to avoid it."

  The detective knew what Jeff was talking about. "Yeah, you don't want to give any false hope or impression. I've had more than a few cases where the original suspect turned out to be a victim. You just have to face him and make sure that he knows you don't know everything. Moreover, make sure he knows that you are trying."

  The radio beeped, notifying that someone was trying to communicate with the detective. He looked around, trying to find a place to put the box. Not finding anything, he wordlessly asked Jeff to hold it. Taking it, Jeff felt the heft of the box.

  The detective removed his radio and spoke into it. "Go ahead."

  It was the receptionist. "Since you're in the archives, can you find a Jeffrey Hunter. I have a Parker Jaden at the front desk asking for him."

  "Yeah, he's right in front of me. He'll be up there ASAP."

  "Thank you." The detective set his radio back. Taking the box once again, he said to Jeff, "Good luck, Mr. Hunter."

  "You too." Jeff left to the front desk.

  Parker was pacing around the waiting area. He was being impatient, even though he had to wait for answers for several weeks now.

  Then Jeff arrived. Parker drew his immediate attention to him. "Have you found anything?"

  The question was almost rushed, as though he couldn't wait for any answers. Jeff tried to calm that need. "Possibly, but I need to know a few things before telling you anything. The main thing, where did she go for her outdoor research."

  Parker was disappointed but answered anyway, "It was about thirty miles to the south of Baretts Park. It's along a hiking road. She went there as a "base of operation" of sorts."

  "All right. I'm not sure, but something might have happened there that caused the entire situation."

  Parker turned to a different thought. "I never read one of her books. Not until a week ago. She always loved the hikes, being surrounded by trees rather than brick and mortar. I never knew that. I always just took her out to eat in some fancy restaurant. We talked about all sorts of things, but I never really got to know her."

  "How long had you known each other." Jeff asked that, conveying this was more curiosity than part of his investigation.

  "Two years. I asked to go along, but she always said, "This is my thing." Should have been more insistent."

  "But she was still with you. I don't know if you should have been more involved, but I can still say she enjoyed your company. It doesn't take a wizard to tell you that."

  Parker nodded at the sympathetic comment. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Just do me a favor and tell me everything."

  Jeff honestly said, "I'll try."

  Parker had one last thought, this one related to the investigation. "If you need to go to her camping spot, I can give you a ride."

  "No, that's all right. I have a better means to get there anyway."

  Jeff was floating above the large forest. His way of getting to the site was using the Transport. Using his screen to look down onto the green landscape, he couldn't see many trails that led to the spot. Due to the large trees, the mapping feature didn't have an accurate map of all the trails. Jeff had to rely completely on the screen and GPS to figure out where Riley camped.

  Then he saw it. The camp site was a small, open space in the midst of other trees. Jeff looked around for a trail, but couldn't see one. "Off the beaten trail, but shouldn't be tough to get to...Presuming I can find a landing site."

  Jeff used the map to see if he could find a nearby space that could accommodate the Transport. Scrolling around, he found one quite a distance away. Looking up into the horizon, Jeff scoffed at the idea of that long of a hike. The day was getting too late for that.

  So Jeff had to come up with a different idea. Getting up, he went to the back and started going through some of the stuff. First, he found a long piece of rope. Then there was a problem: he had no idea what to tie it to.

  Looking around the cabin, it was all smooth with not much to tie to. Above there was handles that one could grab onto, but Jeff shook his head at the reliability (or lack thereof) of those. Then he looked at the front chairs. Going back to the pilot cabin, he ducked below the passenger seat. It was suspended by a round tube - perfect for the job.

  Jeff began wrapping the rope several times around. "One of the few things I really learned from Boy Scouts."

  Pulling it tight, Jeff completed the knot. He moved back to the controls. Shifting the levers, he lowered the Transport to just above the trees. His last action was to open the back ramp. Jeff walked onto the ramp and into the outdoors. Holding the rope, he was tepid in getting off the ramp. Carefully, he held a tight grip onto the rope.

  Finally off the ramp, he very slowly, very carefully, he slid down the rope. It took all too long, but he eventually released his grip a foot off the ground.

  The campsite appeared to be well used. Many holes indicated where tent stakes had been placed. But it wasn't whether this was a campsite that concerned Jeff - it was the ground. Jeff kneeled, looking for any evidence that Riley had used this location as part of the drug trade.

  Then Jeff heard a footstep, purposely loud.

  "What in the hell are you?"

  It was in a threatening tone. The middle-aged man certainly had more exotic ideas of what the Transport was and why Jeff was in it. Jeff turned, summoning and quickly aiming his stun-pistol at his ambusher. They faced each other, aiming their respective weapons.

  Jeff sighed, knowing this was one of the situations he didn't want to happen. He replied, "I'm not a "what.""

  "Then what is that?" He quickly pointed at the floating Transport.

  "That's called a Dimensional Transport. It allows me to travel to and from alternate worlds."

  "So, you're the first in for an invasion?"

  Jeff sighed, "No. I'm the only one. No invasion, no other strange sci-fi stories."

  The man stood firm. "How am I supposed to believe you. For all I know..."

  Jeff shot him mid-sentence. He was tired of explaining and knew how many circles they would go.

  It was several hours later. There was a fire nearby, right in front of Malard. He was slumped upon a log that Jeff had dragged over. Waking up, he found the fire warm. Remembering his encounter with Jeff, he expected to be tied up or restrained in some way. But his hands were just as free as before.

  Jeff tossed his wallet over to him. The detective was curious.

  "Sorry for knocking you out, but we both knew where that conversation was going, detective."

  "I guess you went through my wallet."

  "Yeah, and was wondering why one of the members of drug squad was here."

  Malard thought, the nodded toward Jeff. "You first."

  "All right. I invented the Transport."

  Malard was a bit surprised. "You built that?"

  "Well, me and a team of engineers and several other scientists. But yeah, I led that team. Until a man by the name of Nathaniel Karns tried to kill me and took another prototype. By the way, have you heard of him?"

  Malard shook his head negative.

  "Well, didn't hurt to ask. I've been chasing him for the past three months. The last three weeks unfortunately in a hospital healing from some wounds he gave me. On the fortunate end he had to do the same."

  "I doubt you're chasing him just because he tried to kill you."

  Jeff still didn't like explaining this part. "In the attempt to kill me, instead he killed my wife, Kara."

  Hearing that, Malard now sensed humanity in the man before him. "Oh. Sorry."

  Jeff moved on. "Between chasing him, I come across cases that I investigate."

  "I heard you met Ms. Oakland's boyfriend at the hospital. So what have you found out."

  "Only that she had compartment that would store various drugs in. I found someone in the Ragers that confirmed that they didn't attack her."

  That information surprised the detective. "Wow. How'd you do that."

  Jeff coyly said, "I figured a few methods of p
ersuasion."

  Malard looked worried. "You didn't..." He implied the word torture.

  Jeff shook his head in denial. "No, not at all. Plus, that wouldn't work anyway. As I hear it, most would give false confessions anyway."

  "And that's why we have quite a few more problems with the Ragers."

  Jeff finished his report, "Beyond that, not much. Which is why I came here, to see if she made any transactions here."

  Malard informed, "She didn't."

  Jeff was curious over his certainty. "You knew I would be here."

  Malard nodded, "Didn't know you would come with that." He pointed at the Transport, still bright with some of the interior lights. "Even though we don't talk much with the other detectives, we still hear things here and there. When we heard you took up the case, we made sure to watch."

  Jeff got wind of something from him. "There's something more to this case; something you knew."

  Malard once again nodded. "It's no mistake this is unsolved. We made it so."

  Now was Jeff's turn to be surprised. "Why?"

  "Because, Riley Oakland is an undercover agent for us. She was still undercover when her home was attacked. All we know right now is that she was alive during that incident."

  "And now?"

  Malard shrugged, "She hasn't contacted us since."

  Jeff followed Malard into a dark corner of an apartment building. The detective was being mysterious. Jeff had followed him anyway. It wasn't his place to ask, especially if it was to get more information.

  A man hid in the shadows waiting for Malard. Staying in the shadows, he turned to Jeff, "Who is this, Malard?"

  "This is the guy investigating into Oakland."

  The agent whistled, "So this is the guy who tried to take on the Ragers. I'm impressed."

  Jeff said rhetorically, "Is that what you heard."

  "Well, I heard you didn't get a damn thing. But still, most of us in the Tigers really admire someone who was very up front in taking them on."

  Malard spoke up, "Any word on Oakland?"

  The undercover agent responded, "Nope. Nothing since our attack."

  Jeff deduced from that, "So it was you guys that attacked the home."

  "Had to do it myself," the agent said in a mannered tone.

  "You were the one who shot at Riley."

  The shadow agent shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't know she was an agent beforehand. Malard only told me after she went missing."

  Malard said, "So now that you two are caught up on one-another, any updates?"

  The agent shook his head, "Sorry, man. Lost track of her for a while. She got passed around a few times, a few too many people with connections."

  Without any gestures or emotion, Malard said, "Thanks anyway. Continue your work."

  "Will do. And you," the agent looked at Jeff, "Good luck. Better yet, good luck to anyone who gets in your way."

  Jeff said, in part not knowing any other response, "Thanks."

  Malard turned to leave, with Jeff following him out of the room. The undercover agent just stayed there until they were both out of view.

  Before they could get out of the building, Jeff asked the detective, "So do you have a contact for the last gang?"

  "Oakland was it. We have ways of contacting all our agents in case of emergency. Even there Oakland has gone dark. We would move in on it, but can't until we get more evidence, more to work with on the gang."

  Jeff saw the implication, what Malard was aiming at. It wasn't for Riley's safety. "So you won't move because you want to take the whole gang down first."

  "In essence, yes. If she's either dead or alive, showing ourselves would jeopardize our entire operation, possibly entrenching the gangs further."

  Jeff didn't like it. "You're just like him."

  Malard didn't get the reference, "Who?"

  "The Rager I interrogated. He was just like that. You want something done, then do it. Stop waiting and take your chance now."

  Malard grew a bit angry. He heard the same arguments before, "You think it's that simple! We can not make a single mistake!"

  Jeff pointed out, "You're making one right now. The longer you wait, the more they do entrench themselves. More over, more people get hurt; more people die." Jeff began to walk away from Malard, to his own direction.

  Malard yelled out, "Where do you think you'll go? You'll just stir up trouble if you take them on by yourself."

  Without looking back, Jeff said, "Then trouble it will be."

  Jeff followed another street thug, just like before. This man was cautious, more so than the one from the Ragers. Jeff had to stay farther back and keep his left hand armed.

  The drug dealer led him to an old house. But this time, instead of walking toward the abandoned house, he turned toward the tree. Up top was a tree house that someone built for their kids. Now it looked like a hiding place for the drug dealer.

  As the dealer got up to the top, he ducked into the small opening. Jeff had to stand nearby to evaluate his options. He scanned with the glasses, but was too far away to get any specific features.

  He moved closer. Caution was in his footsteps. He knew that this dealer could look out any moment and see him. The street had no other activity - he stuck out like a red flower amongst a sea of blue. But the gamble payed off. He saw with his scan-glasses there was a crack, large enough to stick his pistol in. Not enough to look through and have his pistol in at the same time, but it was enough for a plan.

  Then the dealer poked his head out, as though he was going to leave. He saw Jeff standing there. The two were looking each other in the eyes. With little hesitation, the dealer pulled out his gun and fired at Jeff. The shots were poorly aimed as Jeff shifted around and toward the tree house. Aiming more carefully, he fired the stun-pistol that he held.

  The dealer ducked into the tree house. Jeff heard him yelling, "What the hell!"

  Jeff ran up to the tree. Rather than climb, he launched the grappling beam into one of the higher branches. Raising himself up, he pushed himself awkwardly against another limb.

  Inside, the dealer was nervous. He was focused on the entrance, expecting Jeff to use that.

  Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. The stun-pistol was squeezing through the minor hole. He was about to aim at the gun when it fired. The first shot missed. The dealer panicked, trying to run out when the second hit him. His head landed inches away from the open air.

  Several hours later, Jeff had the dealer pinned against the tree. Since they were facing away from the road, they were mostly hidden. However, a curious onlooker would find them easily. Because of this, Jeff would occasionally poked his head up. He was more worried about the more violent onlookers.

  The dealer woke up seeing Jeff over him. He laughed, "So you're the guy everyone's talking about. Now I see why."

  Jeff said to him, "Yeah, and I take it you know why I'm here."

  "Not really. All I heard you were asking about some girl."

  Jeff could see the smug look on the dealer's face. He was almost taunting him. "You know. You know exactly what I'm asking."

  The dealer once again laughed, "Well, I was hoping to string this out a bit longer, but what the heck. Yes, I know about that Riley bitch. We also found out she was a cop, not too long after the Tiger's pathetic attack."

  The dealer was pretty much humoring himself, but Jeff was not amused. He saw this, turned a bit more serious. "Yeah, she still lives. She's a stubborn one, but we still like to know some things about her."

  Jeff knew something was up, "This is intentional, you giving me this information."

  "Glad you catch on. And guess what, she isn't your biggest problem.

  "It's the cops."

  Jeff heard the implication. "What do you mean?"

  The dealer was more smug than ever, "We figure that there would be more cops hiding in our midst. So, why not hit them where it hurts. No one would ever expect that. We all made sure that everyone would know, so you would know. A
ctually, it should be starting any minute."

  Jeff ran. He didn't have the means to get there, not without using the Transport, but he had to get to the police station.

  The detective was just walking past the front desk. He faced the officer who was manning the desk, "I'm going to see about that accident on Trenton."

  The officer noticed something strange happening outside. Two cars pulled up on the other side of the street. Then another two. And another four.

  The detective turned, "What is happening...."

  That's when several of the car windows rolled down. All of the windows revealed a gun of various types and size. Then they fired.

  The detective ducked as glass shattered and walls crumbled as the attack began.

  Jeff continued to run. He looked around, finding empty cars that probably didn't run all that well. No one passed by, no one was there to help.

  He took out his remote, the one that opens and closes the Transport. "In case of emergency..." he said to himself.

  Pressing it, he heard it from the short distance. The unique hum of the Transport came alive. He turned into the unkempt, abandoned park. The Transport lie in the midst of trees, just hidden enough from casual view.

  He ran right into it, not even letting the ramp open completely. Jeff sat into the pilot's seat. Prepping the Transport, he spoke to himself, "Probably can't get this too close, but it'll be better than walking."

  The Transport powered up. Without doing the final checks, he raised the Transport above the trees.

  Getting up, the detective saw his location was exposed, as well as much of the front area. Staying low, he assessed the situation. From there he saw there was several officers behind the desks. The other way had opposing forces in even greater numbers.

  Removing his gun, he then crawled to the back. Bullets flew over him. As he got to the desk, he got up to quickly rotate around to the back. Turning to the officer next to him, he asked, "What do we got?"

  The officer popped up to fire, then popped back down to answer, "We got three cars on the way. Unfortunately, the others are in the garage. All other off-duties are getting readied in other stations 'cross town."

  "So, we have to hold for at least a few hours. How about them?"

  "Eight cars of at least four each - at least that the count I got. For the most part they seem to be enjoying firing their guns at us, though there's still a lot of them."

  Then an explosion ripped through the back of the building. More small pieces of debris fell around them. The radio boomed, "We got more of them coming in the back!"

  The detective heard this. He patted the officer on the back. "You think you can hold them off?"

  The officer nodded. "Yeah, I'll be able to hold them until reinforcements arrive."

  Raising up, the officer gave covering fire. The detective kept low as he ran back further into the police department.

  Jeff arrived in a war zone. It had been an hour since the battle started. The cars were being used as shields by several of the gang members. Jeff stood several yards away, where many other people had conjured to watch the mayhem. Often they would have to take cover away from stray bullets.

  Using his glasses, he assessed the situation. He noted that the battle had extended deep inside the station. Outside, the station walls had collapsed, making it strategically hard for the police inside to advance.

  On the other side of the street was several other police vehicles. These were where several other officers fought. However they were just as pinned down as those inside. Notably because one of the police cars had burned down. Jeff knew that these thugs had explosives on hand.

  He looked around. The only form of cover was a nearby trash bin. "Dang, probably can't get close."

  Then Jeff looked up from the mayhem. There was a small office building across the street. The second floor was perfect for a plan.

  Jeff ran across to the back of the building. The back entrance was nondescript but still easy to find. The building was shiny, as though it was heavily used and maintained.

  As he approached the door, Jeff found a problem: it was card-locked. His response to draw his stun-pistol. Pressing a few buttons on the side, he switched to an experimental setting. "Let's hope this works."

  He aimed the pistol at the door, then fired. The bolt hit it. Instead of breaking the door down, it violently jolted - staying upright.

  "Dang," Jeff yelled out.

  Then he looked at the card reader. He shot that; it broke though not severely damaged. This caused the door to open. Jeff looked at it curiously. "I guess they used cheaper door locks....At least I hope that's the case."

  Jeff ran into the building. There were throngs of people who had taken cover in the back of the building. He could see their faces as he passed by, but could do nothing for them at that moment.

  He ran up the well presented stairs. Once at the top, he turned down the hall and right to the room that he needed.

  No one else even dared to stand in the room. Stray bullets had flung themselves in. Jeff ignored the light hitting him from the bullets holes. As silently as possible, he flipped the locks and opened the windows.

  Aiming downward, he had the advantage. Taking out his second stun-pistol, he began firing upon the gang members. The random shots hit three of them. That got the attention of several opponents. They aimed their pistols and rifles up at their new rival. Ducking into the building, Jeff had to dive quite a ways into the room. Bullets ripped straight through the walls and into the ceiling.

  He said to himself, "Got the advantage, but it still won't be easy."

  The detective ran to the evidence room. The boxes littered across the floor with many of the racks that had fallen. There was two men that had taken refuge behind one such fallen rack. They fired as the detective got into position.

  He had to hide among other racks, a pile that wove a web rather than a consistent barrier. It was the best he got. He return fired through the web. The gang members ducked, but came back up just as the detective gave pause.

  The several loud booms came from a different direction. The gang members fell. From the shadows came Malard, holding a shotgun. The detective was relieved.

  "Glad you would join in," the detective sarcastically said to Malard.

  Malard put up a smug look on his face. "Well, this is both our problem, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, that's right," the detective agreed. "Anyway, let's stop standing here. They still have the armory."

  "Lead on!"

  The two exited the archives as swiftly as they came.

  Jeff spun to the window. He fired several shots at the thinning forces outside. There was now only a dozen remaining, but that dozen still proved worthy. Ducking back, he avoided more shots at him. Then a grenade crashed through another window.

  Jeff quickly ran to it and threw the grenade back into the streets below. It exploded mid-air. The gang members ducked, but appeared unharmed by the explosion.

  A level of frustration coursed through Jeff. "Damn, this will never end."

  Releasing a battery from one of his stun-pistols, he went to his pocket for another one. Shoving it back into the weapon, he looked back up. His glasses picked up many life signs coming his way.

  Commotion could be heard below, as the remaining gang members pointed down the open street. Jeff dared take a quick peek to see what was happening.

  The reinforcements had arrived.

  Several police cars full of armed officers exited the various vehicles, taking defensive positions.

  The gang members responded by ignoring Jeff and focusing on the newcomers. Jeff saw this opportunity.

  He holstered one of his stun-pistols. Leaning out, he launched the grappling beam up to gutter. Carefully climbing out (just as much for safety as stealth), he looked down at his landing site. It was between several of the gang members, all pointed in different directions. A tight grip held Jeff's remaining weapon.

  After a quick breath, Jeff jumped. He landed righ
t on target, though a bit hard on his legs. Quickly he fired his stun-pistol at the nearest foe. The others began to turn, but found the idea problematic. Two of them were hit by bullets from police officers.

  Jeff resumed the assault, firing at the remaining gang members. In no time, only one remained. He was about to surrender - had his hand in the air - when Jeff just shot him anyway.

  Several officers approached the barricade. One came up to Jeff while many of the others assessed the condition of the downed gang members. It was a SWAT officer, "We got four remaining inside."

  Jeff asked, "Which way did they enter?"

  "I heard from the back."

  Jeff suggested, "Then let's go around that way."

  "Just as I was thinking."

  The detective and Malard was side-by-side trying to get into the Armory. Shotgun blasts could be heard coming from the immediate doorway.

  Malard said, "Dang, how'd they get in into the vault?"

  More shotguns blasts came. Everyone avoided the doorway.

  Then Jeff and the SWAT officer came up behind them. "What's going on?"

  Malard informed, "Three men inside, got into the vault."

  The SWAT officer pulled out a grenade-like object. "I got an answer for that." Pulling the pin, he tossed it into the room. The grenade exploded into a huge flash, causing the gang members inside to scream out in blindness.

  Jeff spun in front of Malard, preventing him from going in first. He stood in the doorway and fired onto the gang members.

  With that, Jeff surveyed the scene. There was much damage along the walls of the station. Several bodies laid on the floor, some were gang members, others police officers and other staff.

  Jeff didn't like the sight.

  Jeff walked around with Malard next to him. There was a flurry of activity. Medics and firefighters frantically tended to the wounded. Only thirty minutes had past after the fire-fight and the clean-up was still in the initial phases.

  They passed by a makeshift jail, a large room that was locked and guarded by many officers.

  Malard admitted to Jeff, "You were right. Delaying things have caused more problems."

  "Don't beat yourself up over it." Then Jeff quoted, "We live in the best of all worlds." It meant that everyone made the best decision they could. It was strange saying it, since he was in parallel worlds that had varied decisions. Yet, it was something he found more and more true.

  "You of all people can not say that."

  Jeff shook his head, knowing the exact reason he could. "It doesn't work like that. Parallel universes work along string theory. They don't exist on splitting threads; they're all separate from one-another. You just live on one of those threads. Sometimes a few threads run parallel, until a certain point."

  "That still doesn't mean you weren't right."

  Jeff sighed. "All you did was loose the trees for the forest, not realizing the trees make up the forest. We all do that. It's unfortunate that it takes tragedies for us to realize that."

  A voice came from behind, "And you are right."

  Jeff turned around to find Parker standing in the wrecked offices. "I talked with the detective," he said to the two, "He told me that Riley was an undercover cop."

  Malard nodded. "Yeah, it's true. She was also ordered not to tell anyone. If anyone got wind...well..." He flapped his arms up, silently commenting about the entire scene.

  Parker asked, "So, is she alive?"

  Jeff affirmatively said, "Yes, she is. And we'll get her out."

  A bunch of men, including Jeff, the detective and Malard, circled around one of the few tables that remained in the police station. On that table was a map. A red circle were around the large apartment building that Riley was in. At this point in the planning, they were working entrances into the building.

  Malard informed the group, "There's four entrances, one for each side. Two of them are for emergencies, but considering the tenants, I doubt they're even on. By the way, how'd you get this information, Hunter?"

  Jeff said, "Surprisingly, one of the captured Tigers had a fear of sleep. My stun-pistol had a severe effect on him when I shot him during the fight."

  Malard, along with the others, found that fact curious. "Oh...kay...Anyway, We'll take them on from the back and east entrances. Mr. Hunter has volunteered to go solo at the west entrance."

  Detective looked up at Jeff, "You think you can do that alone?"

  Jeff replied, "Yes. Plus with two other teams going in, they'll be perfect to distract and thin any forces they have."

  Malard nodded. "And that's the plan. I doubt they expect Jeff to go alone with two other teams swarming in different directions."

  Parker joined in on the table's discussion. "How do you know where Riley is?"

  Jeff spoke up, showing that was one of their problems. "We don't. Not yet at least. Hopefully when they all move around, I'll be able to locate Riley."

  "Then what about me?" Parker insisted with that on being part of the operation.

  The detective said, "Can you operate the radios?"

  "Two years as an ambulance driver should be enough."

  "Good, cause we'll need to know what's happening."

  Malard looked up at group, "Everyone got the plan."

  The others nodded and spoke in affirmation.

  Malard ended by saying, "We're doing this to strike back at them. We're doing this for all those that died today defending this building, this home. More importantly, we're doing this for Riley Oakland, someone who is still alive and needs our help."

  Parker sat at a desk, surrounded by radio equipment. It was a makeshift setup, but it still worked. Rolling around in a swivel chair, Parker announced the call on the headset radio, "Everyone has given the green light. We're good to go!"

  The detective was standing at the door, fully geared for the assault. Upon hearing the order, he waved the rest of the two dozen officers to move inside. One man moved ahead, a large mallet in hand. Steadying himself in front of the door, he swung the mallet. One hit rumbled the door. Then the second broke down the barrier.

  Now the detective took lead, slowly moving into the dimly lit building.

  Now Malard did much the same with forces greater in number. Waving forward, he simply kicked in the unlocked door. The firefight started immediately. There was some yelling, the calls for alarm.

  From the nearest apartments came armed gang members. They haphazardly charging in with guns firing. The lead officers, Malard included, had blast shields preventing gunfire from hitting them. Gunfire from the officers easily took them down. More fire came from rooms further down the hall. The front blocks in the police squad crouched down and aim their shields in defense.

  Then some more fire came from the stairway down the hall. Malard yelled into his headset,

  "We got their attention and are holding position."

  Parker held his headset, making sure that he heard Malard over the other noise that was being transmitted. "OK, Anderson. Prime team has encountered hostiles and are holding position. What's your status?"

  The detective swung his shotgun around, still searching for any response from the gangs. The other officers were doing the same.

  He informed Parker, "We're pretty far in and haven't seen anyone. We're keeping on the look..."

  Gunfire from the back halted his sentence. He swung around to find a gang member fallen.

  Swinging back, there was now two more gang members. The detective held his gun for the expected gunfire, but it didn't come. Instead, they yelled out in alarm.

  The detective held his arm up, signaling a halt to their advance. Ordering his subordinates, "Let's get these two rooms secure. We'll be able to use those as cover."

  Redirecting himself back to the radio, "Never-mind. We got contact and are setting up a defense."

  Malard was still taking quite a bit with his shield. It was daunting being surrounded by gunfire, but he held firm. The man behind him had ducked below and aimed in another directio
n. More gang members were attacking from the side hall.

  One SWAT officer yelled, "How many of these guys are there?"

  Malard gave the best answer he had, "Last count was at least two hundred. There's at least a quarter of that in this building."

  The SWAT officer fired, narrowly missing the gang member who dared pop his head up. Malard looked forward, through the small windowed slit in the shield. Even that was becoming harder to see through as the shield was scared from gunfire.

  Malard spoke into the headset, "I think we got enough attention here. How's our wild-card?"

  He heard Parker respond, "I'll send him right in."

  Jeff held his stun-pistol, ready at a moments notice. A buzz echoed in his ear. That was the call. He aimed the pistol at the door in front of him. "Going in now."

  With the looser door, he fired his stun-pistol. The blast plowed the door down. Peering in, he released the battery - the only shot it got due to the power setting. Shoving a new battery in, he entered the building.

  A hand remained on the scan-glasses. Jeff's first job inside was to look around and find where everyone, police and gang members alike, was at. Straight ahead was the main team. Most of the officers were inside, though there was still quite a few outside. Scanning further down, he saw the second team. They were well inside and fighting a dozen gang members down hall.

  Going up a level, he found that the numbers thinned greatly and were scattered. To the third floor, Jeff found a lead. There was a cluster of three people - one was sitting down while the other two were towering over.

  Jeff ran further into the building.

  The detective turned out of the doorway and fired his shotgun down the hall. One of the gang members was hit, but not badly. Turning back, he avoided incoming several shots.

  Parker came over the radio, "Jeff is in. Advance if you can."

  The detective nodded. Signaling his men forward, they nodded in affirmation.

  Simultaneously, everyone dived back into the hallway. An unsuspecting gang member was caught off-guard as he was quickly shot by the envigored force. The enforcers all calmly walked forward. Two gang members tried to fire at them, but was quickly shot at. Calls for reinforcement quickly came from the remaining gang members.

  Malard was having more difficulty moving forward. Gang members came from all sides, though the main force was concentrated down the hallway. The SWAT officer tried to fire more shots, but found his weapon empty. "I'm out."

  The undercover detective ordered, "Then switch with me." Malard set one arm down so he could retrieve his pistol. "On three. One...two...three!"

  In one quick motion, the SWAT officer grabbed the shield and the two switched positions. Malard proceeded to fire his pistol down the hallway. He kept up his concentration as bullets from behind flew over him.

  Jeff had found the elevators. Pressing a button, he found that it had worked. It took just a second to open. Getting in, Jeff pressed for the top floor.

  There were two gang members that had heard the ring as the elevator doors opened. Curious, in part because of the firefight, they looked inside.

  No one was in the elevator.

  They shrugged it off. Turning their back, Jeff quickly landed inside the elevator and fired the stun-pistol at one enemy then the other. Above him, the emergency hatch was open while his grappling beam was connected to the top of the elevator shaft. Releasing it, he moved forward.

  The hall was thinly populated. One gang member was guarding a corner, facing Jeff's direction. Jeff spotted him quickly, firing before he had the chance to react. He ran further in. Another corner was his destination. The door was open, so he took a peek inside.

  It was Riley on the ground, bruised in several places but she still held a look of defiance. She was cuffed to a radiator. Two gang members from towering over her with submachine guns.

  Jeff took out his second stun-pistol and readied his charge. Turning into the room, he didn't aim all that much. He just fired as many shots as he could, aiming high and at the two figures.

  One was able to turn but not able to fire when he was hit. The other had been caught completely off-guard. They both landed a foot away from undercover officer.

  Jeff ran over to Riley, who showed gratefulness for Jeff. "Glad you finally came. I wasn't expecting anyone, not since they found the text."

  "It took a while, but we figured out you were alive and needed help."

  Jeff took one of the guns from the fallen gang members. Aiming it at the radiator, he shot the cuff clean off. Riley, stiff from sitting for so long, stretched as she got up. Holding his hand to his ear, Jeff spoke to the radio. "This is Jeff. I got her, Parker. We're heading out."

  Riley had picked up a submachine gun when she noticed what Jeff said. "Wait, is that Parker Jaden on the radio?"

  "Yeah. He's helping us coordinate."

  Riley waved at Jeff, enthusiastic to speak to him. Jeff removed his headset and handed it over to her. Putting it on, she immediately spoke into it. "Parker?"

  The radio operator heard her voice and couldn't help but feel relief. "Is that you, Riley?"

  Riley reciprocated the feeling, "Yeah, it's me, kid."

  Parker laughed at the pet name. "It may be a bit cliche, but I'm glad to hear your voice."

  "Same here. I'm sorry I didn't say anything; that I worried you...

  "No need, babe. I'm proud, and will support you whatever you do. Just get back home."

  Riley nodded, "Alright. But first, I'm going to take out the rest of these bastards."

  Parker replied, "Then go and kick some ass."

  Riley got more energy from this than she had in weeks. Then she looked over to Jeff, who offered one of his stun-pistols.

  "This will be better if you really want to punish those men."

  Riley set the submachine gun down, then took the pistol. "What is it?"

  Jeff informed, "It'll just knock them out, not kill them."

  She smiled almost cruelly. "I like it."

  Malard now aimed forward, a new officer taking the place he was at. More gang members were down the main hall. Resistance had persisted to either side. Ducking down, he removed his clip. As he looked around, he tried to find his next, best target.

  "Shit!" A gang member had yelled.

  Gunfire erupted to the right, more than previously indicated. Malard looked and saw that the hallway was now flooded with police officers. They moved forward, aiming at the various rooms to make sure they were cleared.

  The detective was leading the charge. He converged right toward the main force. Standing up, he spoke to Malard as he shot into the opposite hall, "Glad to see you."

  "You too. Got a plan for these guys."

  The "guys" were a reference to the main enemy force. The detective quickly turned to look, then back to cover the other hall. "Just wait a second."

  Then more gunshots erupted in the main hallway. Several of the gang members now ran up the stairs, the only safe haven from the police raid.

  The gang members were yelling at each other. Verbal attempts were made to figure out what to do and who should do it. Then from their back came bolts of light. The gang turned to find Jeff and Riley, standing side by side.

  Some of them tried to fight them, but got caught between a rock and a hard place. Police had climbed the stairs and were firing upon them as well. Several more bolts downed the gang members, unable to hide from Jeff and Riley.

  Then it ended. It was sudden, almost unexpected. The battle was over. The remaining gang members had dropped their weapons with hands in the air in surrender.

  Riley, tired, handed Jeff's pistol back to him. The two walked down the stairs. It didn't take long before she was outside, surrounded by other proud officers.

  Back at the police station, a car pass by all the barricades and rubble. It stopped right where the door used to be; where Parker waited.

  The door opened, with a very weary Riley getting out. Her strength may have been waning, but she didn't
need to any encouragement. She walked calmly, almost too calm, to the man she loved. They embraced. Tears ran down both their eyes.

  "I'm sorry. I couldn't say anything, do anything..."

  Parker whispered to her, "I don't care. That doesn't matter, none of that matters."

  Jeff watched from the back of the car. It was the best sight he had seen in a long time. He watched as the clouds parted, showing bright sunlight of the ending day.