Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ All I Have ❯ Stolen ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

: Stolen :

Andy rifled through his medical bag, feeling sluggish during morning patrol. Though their suits were outfitted with temperature control, the heat of New Park continued to irritate him, sweat running from his helmet covered brow and stinging his eyes. Plucking out an ice pack, he snapped that in half and meshed it with both hands, hearing both Powers brothers argue between each other over their next course. He then removed his helmet, slapped the ice pack atop of his head and resettled the protective covering, adjusting the straps to accommodate the newest addition. Radio traffic flitted in from his earpiece, and his watch told him it was nearly mid-afternoon.

With a heavy sigh, he settled down on the sidewalk in a low crouch, wanting to massage his feet. His thoughts were running amok, today, with a mixture of his studies and of Adam. He hated feeling this way; meeting someone new, developing a teenage crush on them, knowing it would go no where. He felt lonely all of a sudden, looking at his squadron and seeing them start separating the two brothers as pushes turned to shoves. Civilians took note, glancing at them with sideways stares, Aliens with their mixed features taking their time assessing the situation and tension levels amongst the uniformed soldiers that were supposed to protect the peace.

Jefferson, with his heavy mustache and squinty eyes, crouched down next to him. “Don't got any of them chill pills in there, do you?” he asked, his lower lip jutting out, full of chew. As he turned to spit, Andy shook his head.

“No such thing, Eric. Unfortunately. But I got these awesome tranqs in here that'll do the job just as quick. We can lay them behind the bus stop over there and continue on with patrol uninhibited.”

“I wanted some for myself, really,” Jefferson said with a sigh. “You kids are starting to get on my last nerve.”

“Even me?” Andy asked jokingly.

“You most of all, being so quiet and avoiding the situation rather than helping us disengage it.” Jefferson straightened, then walked over to pull Paul off of Ken, shouting for order. Barry, their lead, gave a shake of her head and went back to talking to a police-marked car that had pulled up to the sidewalk.

Kurt gave a low curse as Jefferson and Nathaniel started in on the argument, both brothers now behind two large men, shouting at each other. Civilians crowded around to watch, Barry now laughing with the cops as they traded jokes and words over everything but the situation.

Andy rose from his crouch, shifting his medical bag over his shoulders. Unlike the usual pack that the others carried, his was double the weight due to his position. There were some days where it didn't seem like too much trouble, but on days that dragged, such as this one, the weight was troublesome. He looked up at the skyline, towering buildings and air traffic diverting his attention from Ken's furious words, and Paul's mocking undertones. The smell of the ocean, combined with waste and the fumes of the shipyards made him wrinkle his nose. He turned to gaze over the crowded shore line, looking beyond the warehouses, docks and anchored ships. To the left were the slums, a minority ghetto with crowded apartment buildings, broken streets and kids that could pick a man blind if he wasn't paying attention.

He thought about Adam once more, wondering what the taller man was doing on his day off, and how long he'd been in love with his best friend. It was easy to tell for a man like Andy, who knew what it was like to hide such secrets.

Andy couldn't outright dislike Ian for that reason only; he didn't even know him. But he started to acknowledge disliking how someone like him could grab Adam's attention. Andy had accepted that his crush on Adam had festered the day after, and it was hard thinking beyond the subject. He wanted to find ways getting closer to the man, to have more of an excuse to get to know him. The thought of it made Andy think of how lonely and needy he was, wanting just a small taste of a man' notice. It had been ages since his last relationship, and that had been before he'd joined the Academy. He had been a teenager then. Younger than Sam. His last boyfriend had protested him joining, but Andy had been drawn to the medical field for Duncan Jones.

To hide his sexuality had been just as big a challenge as the physical fitness programs were. The military's view on homosexuality was consistently hateful, and he knew better than to explore his options secretly on the outside. He knew that if he chose to give into the cravings of the flesh, he'd find need to continue to cave in, ruining the hard-won control and suppression he'd learned over the years.

But he felt so lonely, so needy and so vulnerable now; finding that even if he crushed on another man here and there, he struggled for their attention in deprived ways. He often got to talking to them, going out of his way to see them everyday, treating them to a manly outing in the city, just to get close to them. On the side, he researched their past on the computer, Googling their every detail like an obsessive fan girl, as if they were some celebrity. His crushes and friendship usually died out when the man of interest was either transferred or if they made some remark on homosexuality.

Recognizing his pattern emerging with Adam, Andy felt himself start to feed on his feelings of neediness, causing him to want more time with the bigger man, to see him that day. It burned deep at his core, his lungs constricting with the very power of it.

“I was right, right?” Ken asked him, startling him out of his thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, he started rummaging through Andy's pack, causing the smaller man to stumble. “You heard it all. Fuckin' kid, he don't know what the fuck he's talking about!”

“I stopped listening a long time ago,” Andy muttered, jerking away. Ken dabbed at his bloody nose with his sleeve, gesturing for something to use. At six foot two, he was athletically built, a former basketball player in high school. Fast on his feet and even faster with reacting quickly with his rapid-fire submachine guns, Ken and his brother Paul were similar on most levels; they couldn't work without or with each other, making their teammates suffer because of their handicaps.

Andy tossed his gun strap over his shoulder, the material automatically tightening around his frame and securing the weapon against him, so that his hands were free to work. He then pulled out a small kit from his thigh pocket, withdrawing tissue and a tubular packet. “Sit down.”

Roughly, he attended to Ken's bloodied nose, while Paul taunted them from down the sidewalk, where he was standing with the others.

“That fool, he's such a fuckin' fool,” Ken said, shaking his head. With his tanned skin, dark brows, short-cropped dark blond hair and hook nose, Ken looked as if he'd emerged from some Texas dustbowl bar; evidence of past fights were permanently scarred into his face and hands. His brother looked almost similar, save his eyebrows were askew, thanks to Ken waxing them off while Paul had been passed out last year. “Thinkin' he's so smart. He's got no sense, no sense at all! The Chargers ain't got shit this year! Not on the `Boys…”

“You are fighting about football when the season hasn't even started yet,” Andy stated, pushing the packet up into his nose and squeezing. When Ken shifted uncomfortably, he held onto his hook nose with both fingers and shifted to prop the tissue up against his nostrils. “Breathe through your mouth.”

“It's not like—!”

“Both of you made fools of yourselves by fist-fighting over two teams that hadn't even made it to the `Bowl in over ten years.”

“Well…it's not like..it's like the matter of the thing, eh?” Ken said nasally, feeling his eyes water as the contents of the tube mended the damage from the inside. “Just the point of it all. Paul's being this dick. He's being such a dick.”

“How long have you known this?”

“Shut up, Murphy, you conceited asshole. Just because you don't have a brother, you cain't even begin to understand what it's like to just argue with someone that's close to you—!”

“Tilt your head back.”

“Can't even understand what we have, and you're all are stuck up `bout things—!”

“Shut up. Christ. Don't even try to fight with me over something as ridiculous as this, because I'm not even going to bother with it. Snot rocket,” Andy then instructed, leaving him with the tissue to handle that end, turning away to throw away the used packet.

Ken heaved a bloody snot rocket onto the sidewalk, using the tissue to clean up around his nose. Much to the disgust of the civilians that were now taking their leave, he stomped after him to at least toss the used tissue away.

“Heard you were hanging out at 58's place the other night,” Ken then said, pushing him out of the way to toss the tissue. “Why're you hangin' at that pussy palace?”

“Sam invited me.”

“You too good to hang out with your squad? We had a goin'-down that same night, and you deliberately chose to go somewhere else? Issat it?” Ken asked, looking down at him with a disgusted sneer to his lips. His brother joined him at that instant, identical faces peering down at him with similar expressions.

“That's it, brother. That's it, cuz he ain't hangin' out with us all the time,” Paul chimed in. “He's gotta lock himself up in the med building to pretend he's all in training, and on that note, why's he gotta train himself so much? He ain't good for his position, issat what they're saying?”

Andy rolled his eyes. “That's completely it. One day, I might just forget how to patch you up after a shoot-out.”

“Issat a threat?” Paul asked, leaning on his brother's shoulder. “I think he's threatening us, Ken.”

“I don't like it, either, but—hey, you stick to your trainin'. We stuck with you, you might as well as get all you can get,” Ken said with a frown, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

Andy gave a low snort, removing his helmet to remove the now warmed ice pack. Before he could, through, Paul reached out to knock a fist on top of his head. Andy winced as the ice pack crumbled against his skull, an uncomfortable sensation of cold spreading over his head. He reached up to remove the pack, frowning at the light blue jelly that had burst from the bag. He tossed it and ran a hand through his hair to remove the jelly that had spilt over his head.

“So, what was happening over there, anyway?” Paul asked Andy.

“We watched the fight. Tossed back a few. Got to know some of them.”

“Who was all there?” Ken asked, reaching out to swipe at the jelly as well.

“Everyone. There were a lot of people there. I didn't go around the room to learn everyone's names,” Andy then said, replacing his helmet and tightening the straps.

“Why not? You some kinda snob, or something? Too good to even get to know your fellow corpsmen?” Paul asked with a sneer, reaching out to push a shoulder.

“No, I didn't say that—”

“Nobody but his baby brother exists in his eyes,” Ken said with a snort, walking away.

“You my baby brother, but you ain't important to me! You're lucky you even get some of my attention!” Paul said, following after him, then whirling on a heel, pointing at Andy. “And he ain't even your real brother, anyway. Half don't count for shit in horseshoes.”

“Yeah. For real,” Andy said sarcastically, shaking his head at him.

“If he ain't by real blood, it don't even count. You shouldn't even be claiming him as that. You ain't nothing but cousins, anyway!”

“Yes, that's how it works. That's how it works when you have the same father. Idiot.”

“I ain't no fuckin' idiot! Don't you be callin' me an idiot!” Paul threatened, reaching out to grab him until a distress call came over their earpieces, causing all of them to still, pressing their fingertips over their ears to hear the exact details. Upon hearing the emergency tones for an Alien meltdown nearby, Barry called them to order, beginning the foot chase from her position on the sidewalk.

Because the need to see Adam was so overwhelming, Andy instead locked himself in the medical training room he was now comfortable with calling `home'. His hands were shaking as he activated the holographic mannequin, the lights automatically adjusting to the change. He took a deep breath, reaching out to rest them onto the table, trying to clear his head. It had been a long, exhausting day out on patrol, the fussy Alien forcing them into a game of hide-and-seek. By the time their backup showed up to give them some help, it was already late in the evening.

But the moment Andy closed the door of his room upon returning from patrol, he knew he'd cave into temptation to leave his home to stalk out the house that Adam shared with his roommates. He didn't want to be that guy that walked pass the object of his desire's house a hundred times a night, hoping for that moment in which Adam would catch him `just passing by'. He didn't want to be the guy that called, claiming he'd forgotten something there, just for the excuse of showing up. He didn't want to be that guy that obsessively stalked Adam's every detail, Googling him on his laptop before he could even get Adam to tell him personally.

He didn't want to be that guy, period.

He exhaled heavily, glaring at the hologram. With its shimmering features, it stared blankly beyond him. His mind wasn't on the texts that were waiting to be opened nearby, nor on the mannequin that would automatically run the last program he'd been situated with, but entirely on Adam. It frustrated him in that he felt this way.

He lifted his head, watching the mannequin shiver momentarily, startling him. He straightened away from the table and nearly felt his insides curdle at the sight of his thoughts come to life. Adam shut the door behind him, giving him a curious expression.

“I knocked,” he said. “You okay?”

Andy couldn't find his voice for several moments, feeling his throat clog with his startled words and excuses, his hands shaking so badly from being startled that he hid them behind him. Finally he was able to say, “Yeah, yeah, fine. Fine. It's—it's been a long—where's Sam? Is he alright…?”

“Oh, he's out with Larson. Some movie, something. You don't mind that I'm interrupting…? The resident here said you just showed up,” Adam said.

“It's—it's fine! I just—gathering my thoughts, it's been—um, it's fine. I didn't even start anything yet, I just—I just got here,” Andy stammered, turning to make a face away from Adam's sight, in disbelief over his own actions and over the very fact that Adam was right there in front of him.

Just as he did the first night Andy met him, he was still the tall, dark and striking man. It frustrated Andy just how aware of Adam he was. He walked around the table just to give them space, his palms sweaty as he finally wiped them against his scrubs.

“Too much caffeine?” Adam questioned, wary of Andy's frazzled state.

“Long day. I spent more time patching up the twins from each other, rather than…than anything done on the field,” Andy mumbled, counting off each incident on one hand. “They just can't leave each other alone.”

Adam studied him for a few moments, not moving away from the door. He examined the plain room, with only a shelf full of medical textbooks, field supplies and a shimmering hologram. He wondered how someone could spend hours in such isolation. He couldn't even hear the activity outside. The med building was a combination of an on-base hospital and training center for aspiring doctors and field responders, so the commotion he'd walked into earlier had left him confused, rethinking his decision in wandering such an area, thinking he'd only be in the way if he were only visiting a worker.

He touched the wall. “Normally, they make field medics work out in the open.”

“Oh, I graduated with honors in the program; I'm allowed certain privileges here and there,” Andy mumbled, wishing it were him that was being touched, and not the soundproof wall. To quell such thoughts, he picked at his short fingernails, his knees shaking behind the table. “I'm here so much, and the resident, she understands that I'm just—sometimes I volunteer downstairs, so it's not like I'm…well…I'm available if they need me.”

“You sure you're okay? I could come back again another time…?”

“Oh, no! No, I don't—I mean, sorry. It's fine.” Andy gathered a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “So, what brings you over this way? Besides the titillating conversation?”

“I wouldn't say they're that,” Adam said, lifting an eyebrow. Andy was too frazzled over his own thoughts and feelings to realize that Adam had barely looked at him the entire time. “I…was passing by earlier. Sam mentioned you're here a lot. So I dropped in to see if this was true.”

“Yeah, I…I don't have a life,” Andy said with a chuckle. “I'm pretty boring.”

“I was wondering if Ken or Paul said anything to you today, about the fights.”

“They gave me a little crap for it. To be honest, I don't really search out their opinion concerning my personal life.”

“Paul was asking Neilson about it.”

“He would. He likes her. I mean, not exactly likes her likes her? But in that kindred spirit sort of scene. Only…I entirely doubt she'd like them in any way,” Andy said, brushing hair from his forehead.

“How long have you been grouped with them?” Adam asked out of curiosity, finally bringing himself to look at the other. He saw flattened helmet hair that was tinged blue, weary sunburned features and a wrinkle on the left side of a tired mouth. It bothered him how much he wanted to touch that wrinkle, to maybe smooth it away with his fingers or with his mouth. It made his stomach curdle at the intensity of his want. He looked down at the table again, very slowly reading the titles of the texts and forcing himself to think about them rather than engaging in the question once more.

“Not long. I only transferred because my other unit, 28, had been shifted around once the lead retired. I didn't have any preference, but if I had known Ken and Paul back then, I definitely wouldn't have chosen to work with them,” Andy muttered.

“There are compatibility tests to take…”

“This makes me think they're a bunch of crock, because I am definitely a person of—of, well, I don't act like them.”

“Well, there—”

“I don't think like them, I don't talk like them, I don't—I can't see what it is that makes them tick the way that they do, and—! Well, whatever. As long as I'm out there and not stuck in here,” Andy rationalized, pushing at his texts and watching them topple over.

Adam smiled at him, and coughed slightly. “Well, I was just going to say that some members are there to balance out other members. You and Jefferson are pretty mellow.”

“Just come right out and say it, Byrons. You think we're pussies. Mellow is a friendlier version of `pussy'.”

“Am I so judgmental?” Adam asked. “Maybe I don't think that way.”

“Maybe you're still hungover from the other night.”

“I rarely drink.”

“Well, I did,” Andy mumbled. “But I wasn't drunk.”

“Have you spoken to Jensen lately?”

“I haven't met him,” Andy said, looking up with a quizzical look. “Did he say something?”

Adam frowned, making Andy wonder what it was he was supposed to know or say. Shifting for the door, Adam shrugged. “Never mind. Well, I just thought I'd pop in for a minute. Wouldn't want to interrupt your studies.”

“Oh, it's…it's completely okay. I'm here too much, anyway, I just couldn't…I can't sleep right away, so…just thought I'd bore myself here,” Andy said, inwardly telling himself to shut up.

Adam gave him a careless wave and left, and Andy stared at the door, hearing his heart pounding. He exhaled heavily, sinking into the single stool next to the table and resting his head atop of his arms. He could still smell the cologne and musk that the other man left behind; his skin was burning for touch of some kind, need and want confusing his thoughts.

He started berating himself inwardly over his every word, wondering why he'd spoken so childishly, so out of control. Curling his hands into fists, he repeatedly bumped his head into his arms and wished he'd presented himself a little more better than he had.

The south end of New Park was owned, in essential terms, by the South Side. Run by Alien factions that were headed by Dost, a maniacal Alien that was known for his outrageous behavior and actions, the South Side was crawling with ardent activity. Not that Merrick, who ran the East Side of town, wasn't known for his entertainment offerings, but Dost catered to anybody who had a want, no matter how perverse they were. He also tended to run the prostitution side, which Merrick found messy and uncouth. As such, the South Side was known to be a little wilder than any other part of the city, due to the riff-raff that frequented it.

New Park City was run by those that could afford to pay off the councilmen and mayor, the higher-ups that kept the city running. Ran almost exclusively by the Underworld, an Alien-run state of affairs that knowingly dealt shady with on Earth and off-Earth dealings. Drugs, prostitution, arms dealing, assassinations and power plays; it all played between Merrick and Dost, the city but a playground for them. Commandingly corrupt but offering everything and anything to those that asked for it for a certain price; it was also convenient that Spaceport One, Earth's major port station, resided within the city for off-Earth travelers, bringing in revenue and support that no other city could provide.

Being that it was an active section of town, their patrols through the South Side were usually filled with activity, and 58's night started quickly, as soon as they stepped off their ABAV. Because of their proximity in passing through the party district, Ian's amazing hearing had caught a disturbance, and had made the decision to investigate.

“I am famous. People know me. I don't need to listen to stuff like that,” Felicia Passage said snottily, and Adam did everything he could to suppress the rising need to slap that scowl off her face.

The underage socialite had her head cocked in one direction, one hand on her hip as she faced the six of them. Her Native American features were painted darkly to stand out in the club's black lights, her expensive dress a glossy white against her tanned skin. She was holding tightly onto something that looked as if it'd bite at any moment, so Adam had to assume it was a purse of some kind.

They stood in an alleyway outside a noisy and well-known club, where the bouncer had just refused her entry. Out on the main sidewalk, people were climbing in and out of the front entrance with drunken and loud gusto, police forces stationed outside to stop anything that Normals threw at them. The Aliens and Superhumans were most often sent to the back, where the Superhuman bouncer could handle them without the aid of the Normals. It was standard, in this section of town, to have completely different measures in order to protect the public.

“'Sides, if I go, I'll talk so much shit `bout this place, ain't nobody gonna go in to check it out!” she continued, opening the furry bag and withdrawing a cigarette.

“You are underage,” Adam stressed, reaching out and snatching the cig before she could light it. “Where are your fuckin' escorts?”

“Lost them,” she replied snottily, crossing her arms over her chest. She frowned at his size, straightening her broad shoulders and rising as high as she could with her height, trying to measure herself against him. Unable to stretch her five-two height to his six-five, she scowled. But then she started flexing her biceps to measure against his, Adam snatching his arm away so that she couldn't touch him. Satisfied with that, she pointed beyond the alley. “Go find them for me and tell them I'm out here.”

“I'm not your fuckin' servant!”

“Look, Felicia, it's against the law for places like this to serve against minors,” Ian said peaceably, pushing himself in front of Adam, subtly backing him away with his maneuvering. “If they're caught serving to you, they could be fined up the ass for it. If it comes down to it, the owners will talk to Merrick about it, and you know how he hates paying for your, ahem, mistakes.”

“I'm not asking for alcohol! I just wanna sit up there and watch what's goin' on! Rub elbows with the lot of `em, an' fuckin' remind them I'm one'ah them!”

“It's the point of the fuckin' thing!” Bridgette snarled, shoving both Adam and Ian aside. “NO MINORS ALLOWED. Get that through your stupid head!”

“You're chubby,” Felicia muttered, reaching out to poke her cheek. “You're on the shot, ain't'cha? Little speed will get that chub off your face if you'll let me sell it to you.”

Larson quickly intervened, pulling Bridgette back before the woman could lift her weapon against her. Felicia lifted a glossy lip in a sneer. As they stumbled away, Jensen tried his hand.

“Seriously, girl, out of all places on this street, you chose this dump? I mean, think about it; it's a South Side hangout,” he said, giving the alley way a frown. He jabbed a thumb at the bouncer, who was watching the entire thing. “Where all the skanks hang the last night of their movie shoots. Where the DJ plays the same thing every night. Where guys like Burke Ford get their kicks callin' lil girls disgusting names and raping boys in the back closet. You're too classy a dame to be caught here, being that you're from the East Side. When Merrick hears about this sort of thing, what's he going to say?”

“He's going to bitch me out, but it's not like I care—”

“What's that going to look like tomorrow morning, in the `loids?” Jensen continued. “Felicia Passage, visiting a place of South Side ill-repute, just because her uncle disapproves of it? Frankly, it looks bad on him, and will show Dost just how much control he has over you. Losing face in front of his rival, having tempted his precious niece over to the dark side of town just so she can get some kicks? What's that going to do to your uncle?”

Felicia lowered her arms to her sides, her lips spreading into a grin. She studied Jensen for a few moments. “You're good. Betcha could sweet-talk any good looking boy into bed with you!”

“Well, I'm not really into boys—!”

“What is with you and homos anyway?” Adam asked in a low mutter.

She then pointed at Jensen while looking at Adam. “If you'd only said that nice shit ta me, I'da listened to you much better! Steada makin' me all mad with your superiority complex! Yer sucha big man wit' a gun, ain'tcha? Why don't you let `im talk ya into snatchin' that pole outta yer high, tight ass?”

Before Adam could say or do anything, Ian intervened once more, holding out his arm. “Let's go. I'll find the others for you. You shouldn't be out here on your own, you know. We'll go around front and look for your car. You didn't walk here all alone, did you?”

“Of course I did! I'm not stupid enough to do that!”

Adam moved to kick her as she walked past, Ian shooting him a quelling look over her head.

Jensen grabbed his arm. “Don't be losing control over that kid. She ain't worth it, Byrons.”

“Get off me. Little brat. Fucking shithead needs a goddamn reality check! Not everyone's going to cater to her!” Adam muttered, jerking away from him. She and Ian disappeared around the corner of the building, and his blood continued to boil. Shaking his helmeted head, he said, “I hate rich kids! All of them think they're so damn privileged around here!”

“It was probably all just for show,” Sam piped up, having strayed to the shadows once the confrontation started, making sure that they weren't closed in by possible threats.

“What was just for show?” Adam asked impatiently, weapon at rest.

“Her act. I don't think she really wanted to go in there,” Sam said, giving him an uncertain look. “Usually, Superhuman that she is, she'd barge right in. The bouncer over there doesn't look like he'd be too much trouble for her.”

Jensen looked at Adam, frowning slightly. Adam looked at him with a shake of his head, turning to see if Ian had returned yet. Bridgette ventured forward, Larson adjusting his goggles with a `tsk'.

“That's normal behavior, throwing a fit like that. Something I'd expect from her, and Peters didn't think she was too distressed,” Larson said, squinting as he examined the information he received from Ian's suit. “Nah, he's completely happy. Wanna hear what he's saying to her?”

“NO!” Bridgette growled, Adam signaling for the traffic.

Listening to the sap that Ian was waxing onto Felicia, about her dress and how she should stay on the good side of the law, he rolled his eyes.

“Maybe we should hang out a bit?” Jensen said, giving them a frown. “Something don't seem all it looks. I'm feeling a little out of sort.”

“Maybe it's the fact that it's hot as hell out here?” Bridgette asked, shifting her collar. “C'mon, why isn't my suit cooling me down?”

“You're a hot momma is why!” Larson chirped, then quieted at the look Bridgette threw him. “Just kidding. Y'know. It was a compliment.”

“I am not a momma. Fucking brat, her and her stupid remarks on my size—I can't help being the size that I am! I fucking diet, I lose my muscle strength! Not all of us want to diet down to some anorexic rich bitch size—there are girls that like to fucking EAT!”

“Okay, okay!”

Adam looked at her, unable to repress a smile. “Are you? Anyway? On the shot?”

“Is that really any of your damn business, Byrons?”

“Neilson, you actually get lucky? Wow, that just…puts you way above us,” Larson said, holding a hand high in the air.

“Shut. Up. All of you. Before I use the butt of my gun on your teeth.”

“You should've been a dentist, girlfriend, with that enthusiasm,” Larson muttered, ducking away from her as she moved to follow through with her threat. Sam giggled, then quickly cleared his throat.

“I really think we should stick around,” Jensen said, touching his ear piece. “Make sure that girl gets to where she needs to be, Peters.”

At Ian's answering reply, Adam signaled for Larson to adjust the traffic so he wouldn't have to listen to anymore of Ian's mooning. “Look, we'll stick around the area if your psychic abilities are acting up. But there's been nothing on base that signals any sort of retribution motivation caused by Dost onto Merrick's living property. Dost has been playing nice for awhile, and Merrick's working to keep up the same incentive.”

“Yet, at least. This is the South Side, and East Side's mini-princess is using it as a stomping ground,” Sam said, furrowing his brow. “Either she's asking for trouble, or something's going to happen.”

“There you go. Use that extra sensory perception for knowledge,” Jensen said, tapping his helmet.

Adam frowned at Sam. “You really think so? You think something'll happen?”

“I'm just…I agree with Jensen. I agree that…I dunno, you see her partying and all that all around town? But why here on the South Side?”

“Whore is everywhere. Nothing's off-limits.”

“I heard that,” Ian reproached over their ear pieces. “Knock it off, guys. This place is crawling with paps. You don't want it getting out that we call people `whores'.”

Adam mimicked his words soundlessly, making Larson snicker.

“I saw that!”

“It's a good observation in theory,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But I'd rather not…”

He trailed off at the hand signs Larson was giving him, telling him that Jensen had faded from sight, using his suit's capabilities to fade into his surroundings. The stealth officer was going to do a perimeter check by foot and would report in later.

Continuing, Adam said, “But I'd rather not place any special care on that…person. Call in her uncle's forces and let's go.”

“Better to stomp it out now, before it draws into something bigger,” Cooney said, lighting a cigar, appearing from seemingly no where. He had been monitoring the situation from afar, not wanting to be involved in the confrontation with the teen. “It is unusual for an East Sider such as herself to be around this area. She isn't intoxicated—yet. And she isn't registering for any drug use—yet. Let's keep that in mind, boys.”

“I'm not a boy,” Bridgette muttered.

“With that size, you are to me.”

“Go to Hell, Cooney, you useless fart.”

“How can I not treat you like a man, Neilson, when you talk to an elderly man, such as myself, like that? Honestly.”

“Clean your dentures, old man.”

As Cooney gave her a mock-shocked look, Sam looked at Larson. “Can't you tap into cell transmissions within a certain radius? Find any suspicious convos related to this area, or even to her?”

Larson furrowed his brow at him, but did so, squinting behind his goggles as stream after stream of conversations all around them filtered through his earpiece. Sam watched him for a moment, knowing that the telecommunications officer was also looking into the spread of connections on his goggle lenses. Adam rested against the wall, looking up at the light polluted sky and feeling annoyed as he wondered what Andy was doing.

Visiting him the night before had been uncharacteristic of him; it had been obvious Andy had been in the midst of something, and Adam was quite sure he'd been bothersome. While quite annoyed with himself by doing what he had, made angrier at himself for checking Andy out, torturing himself, really, he was relieved in that he had. Because seeing Andy in his scrubs had been something different. There was something entirely charming about the other man looking vulnerable in that dark maroon material, something that made him look civilian and not military. He had to wonder if he'd ever seen Andy in uniform before, and looked at Sam, who shared the field medic style.

The pack was designed differently from theirs; half loaded with their field essentials and crammed with more medical-style needs. Their helmet was shaped different, in a more oblong shape than dome, with wider goggles; their uniform colors were dark maroon than deep navy; their gun straps were more inclined to mold onto their form rather than swing loose like the others', to keep out of their way as they worked.

Adam imagined that Andy's tired eyes would stand out more, and his rounded chin would be clenched tightly by their helmet strap. The wrinkle on the side of his mouth would be more visible than his actual features.

He straightened away from the wall as Sam caught him looking over at him. “You know what you're doing,” he said distractedly.

“I just remember Peters doing the same thing that one time. When we found that informant on the north side?” Sam said, looking complimented.

“Not everything Peters does is the right thing,” Adam muttered, feeling annoyed as he looked at his watch, wondering how long Ian had to talk to the girl.

Bridgette rested an elbow onto Larson's shoulder, giving him a frown as she waited for some sign of his job completed. She couldn't even see his eyes, as the screen within his goggles obscured everything it covered. “If we find anything out, what happens next?”

“We work things through. Let's go, Peters, you fool,” Adam then said, touching his earpiece. “How long does it take for you to say goodbye to someone like that?”

Receiving no answer, he gave Cooney an annoyed look. The elder man tapped his cigar out with a shrug. “Don't give me that cross look, Byrons. Maybe he ain't been laid in a while. Why's he want to tap that club, anyway?”

“Don't even ask me. I've asked that. I haven't even got a straight answer. Being nice to that one, it's like…” Adam trailed off as voices in his earpiece ran through. Larson was connecting them all to his transmission, and hearing the jumble of conversations made his mind spin. He couldn't understand how Larson could handle the task of sorting through them all to hear key words.

Most of them trailed off until there were three sets of voices speaking, and Larson moved at that instant to isolate the only one that caught his attention. Upon hearing a chipper British voice commonly heard on the entertainment channels and various local news stations throughout New Park, Adam recognized one of Felicia's entourage as Dallas. The Alien, pink-skinned, pierced in multiple areas and had his hair bleached every other week was one of the Aliens that worked for Merrick. Skipping out on Merrick's fashion code by dabbling in punk accessories and old-style gangster ensembles that belonged in some black-and-white movie, Dallas was usually one of the three that hung around the teenager. Hearing him discuss how he'd somehow lost contact of his charge hours ago and was busy combing through her favorite haunts with a cheerful tone, it was obvious that he wasn't in any distress.

The distinct New-Jersey style accent that the other Mackian, Vegas, spoke with was practically vibrating with misery. He, too, was combing through her other favorite spots with no luck on finding her.

“It's weird,” Larson said, frowning. “Dallas is a class-5 telepath. Why does he need to look for her physically?”

“Something's up. Peters, bring that kid back here,” Cooney said, tucking his cigar back into its case for later use.

“Vegas sounds panicked, like usual,” Bridgette said, picturing the orange-skinned Mackian, who looked as if he popped ulcer pills like candy. “Like he's never done this before.”

“It's an act,” Jensen said, reappearing next to them. “It's all an act. Them boys across the way, in the NPC Banking offices look rather frazzled. Extra security at ground level. Plus, it looks like Dost's men are crawling all over on the block away from us, looking all agitated.”

“Merrick's setting up an attack. But why the bank?” Cooney asked aloud, studying his squad. “He's got gazillions all over the universe. He doesn't need to rob no bank.”

“Unless Dost's got something else stashed there,” Adam said, furrowing his brows. “Bring up the blueprints on that building, Lars. Give it to me.”

“Righty-o.”

Adam adjusted his goggles over his eyes, and waited for the information to stream in. While it did, a blazing blue print that adjusted to his eyesight, he adjusted to the change, his mind slightly disoriented by the close up of information. Once he adjusted, he began surveying the overall building, looking for unexplained hallways and doorways.

“Five floors in all,” he murmured to himself. “Three basements. A connecting door on the third basement level to the Fast-Trac on the east side. There's even living-style quarters on the top floor for the executives. There's a bridge way that'll connect the fourth floor to the adjoining building next to it. What is that?”

“Parking garage slash strip mall,” Jensen answered. “It wasn't always a NPC Bank. It was formally a hotel.”

“Why…why remodel a hotel into a banking office? It doesn't make sense.”

“They added their adjustments after it was bought,” Cooney said. “It passed all code inspections.”

“Wait, why do I question such things? This is Dost's territory, he probably has it rigged in some way,” Adam then said on a sigh. “Didn't he buy that bank?”

“He owns NPC Banking, and Merrick owns Quality California Banking,” Cooney said.

“I've tapped into their security feeds, via base's Net-Comm,” Larson said. “They're all over the place, weapons at ready. I've called for backup, and the high lieutenant's monitoring the situation. They'll patch in with orders as soon as the situation's examined.”

All of them looked up as Ian reappeared at the mouth of the alley, looking confused. The teenager at his side looked calm, her black-caked eyes squinting at them with some studious expression.

“What's going on?” Ian asked, gesturing at her to wait nearby. “Why the traffic?”

“We're leaning toward Red,” Adam explained, frowning at him. “Haven't you been listening?”

“I figured you were getting tired of our conversation, so I signed off,” Ian admitted.

Adam frowned at Larson for even following the order, the t.o. officer shrugging sheepishly. Cooney snorted.

“Basically, something's up. We're just going to wait around until it happens, or until we get another clue,” Adam said, signaling for the teenager. “Talk to her. Find out why she left her escorts.”

“I can hear you,” Felicia muttered as she adjusted her high heels. “Frankly, I got tired and pissed at being mothered. I wanted some space. Is that so hard to ask for? Space?”

“You want space, and you want to find it in some crowded club.”

“Adam, lay off.” Ian gave him a look. With a roll of his eyes, Adam turned away, to glare down the other end of the alley and resist reacting to the smirk Felicia threw at his back. “Look, Felicia…you might want to call them. They're distressed. It's a bad place to be alone, and they're, we're concerned.”

Felicia grinned at the rumbles of denial from three of the soldiers around her. But she whipped out her cellphone and dialed a number. Turning away from them she hollered an unnecessary hail and the squad heard Dallas' answering hail, their conversation now on three-way that was easily heard.

Vegas scolded her for running away again while Dallas asked her why she was hanging out with a bunch of soldiers without him present.

Ian looked at Adam, hands on top of his helmet. “What's this all about, anyway?”

“We just thought that—”

“We found necessary reason to believe that there is a situation boiling next door,” Cooney said, jabbing a thumb in that direction. “We will be sticking around to monitor it.”

“Won't that be Recon's job?” Ian asked, frowning. “We're just basic grunts.”

“Recon will be dispatched shortly,” Larson reported, glancing at Felicia. “Should we evacuate certain civilians, sir?”

“Evacuate certain civilians to a safe net outside the perimeter, where her escorts could meet her,” Cooney said, adjusting his uniform. “Neilson, Hill, Peters, Jensen—come with me. Edwards and Byrons, take her down the way.”

“Wait, maybe I should—” Ian interjected, shooting Adam a worried look.

“Leave the jailbait alone. She'll be fine with those two, as fine as she could be if she were with you,” Cooney ordered, gesturing for them to follow him. With a reluctant look at the teen, Ian turned and walked with them.

Adam turned to look at Felicia, who hung up her phone with a snap. “You're with me now, kid. And nobody's going to hold me back.”

“Excellent. Been wanting to trade tips on how you get them guns,” she said, slipping her high heels on and walking off, Larson following her reluctantly after shooting Adam a frown.