HEROES Chapter 7

Tim dropped his fork as he heard the sound of another shot from the Winnchester, jumped up and ran to the spare bedroom. "That ain't good, Yelena." he said from the bedroom as he hurridly slipped on his boots. Running out of the bedroom, putting on an old faded jean jacket and beatup old cowboy hat, he ran to the center of the living room. He lifted the worn rug revealing a trap door. Lifting the door to expose a set of stairs that led down to the cellar of the line shack.

Tim ran down the steps and grabbed an M&P-15 from the gun rack and an ammo box of clips. He made his way to the back of the cellar and pulled a stack of shelves out. As the shelves swung out he grabbed a lantern, lit it and ran down a passage way., that led to another large room. Inside the room was a tarp covered Jeep CJ-7. Tim pushed on what appeared to be a stone wall and it swung out to reveal the opening of a cave next to a dry river bed. He then turned and pulled the tarp off the jeep.

Yelena heard the shots as well then watched as Tim quickly left the table and ran into the bedroom. Following closely behind him, she tried to reason with him knowing it would be no good.

”Tim….you cannot go out there. What if it is trap? Government agent trying to lore you out of hiding? You cannot take chance. Is too dangerous!”

As he pulled the rug back and disappeared down the rabbit hole, she let out a frustrated groan and followed after him. As he began gathering weapons and ammo, so did she as she rattled off in Russian about this being a suicide mission but not letting him go alone since he couldn’t take care of himself properly without her being there.

As the tarp was pulled off the jeep, Yelena jumped into the passenger seat as she loaded a shotgun and a few hand guns then took the M&P-15 from Tim as he handed it to her when he jumped into the drivers seat and fired the Jeep up.

”I hope we not make big mistake doing this….but Henry needs help…”

The open topped, doorless jeep slid sideways across the dried river bed, the Tim righted it as the sped down the ravine. "Buckle up." Tim said calmly as the jeep jumped up out of the river bed and sped across the flat.

"Henery Timble, eh." Devon repeated, "I'll inform the Sherrif."

As Wraith nodded to the cowboy gusts of wind began to stir and swirl around him, then he leapt into the air and flew straight up into the sky, vanishing before Henery's eyes, like a ghost. It didn't make any more sense to try and attempt to conceal his gifts when the man had already seen so much.

Devon remained invisible and materialized when he was high enough that no one would take any notice of him screaming across the sky. Now that he had exposed himself to a total stranger, and an ornery one at that, the crime-fighter figured he should keep flying straight on to Lubbock. He had, though, told the man that he would inform this Sherrif Greer and he would keep his word.


Sherrif Greer, however, had already been notified. The FBI, unable to readily provide backup to their agent, had put out a call to all local law enforcement in the vicinity, and Greer was all there was.

"Well, shoot!" Exclaimed Roy as he listened to the dispatch call on his two way radio sitting in the middle of the table.

"What the hell is it, Roy?" Asked Stubby who recognized the serious expression that formed on his friend's face.

"Trouble." Answered the Sherrif as he put his hat on and quickly made for the door.

"I'll go get my shotgun." Said Stubby as he followed behind, ready to back up his friend.

"You stay put, Stubby. I'll handle this." Ordered Greer.

The Sherrif got into his squad car, turned on his lights and headed for the Timble's ranch. He hated ordering his friend to stay put, but Greer wasn't sure what he was up against. He was being called in to assist a federal agent in pursuit of two armed and dangerous suspects. He had pretty good idea who the agent was but Roy feared that the suspects just might by Henery and Tim. He prayed it wasn't, but who the hell else could it be? Damn, he sure wasn't looking forward to arresting his old friend.


Agent Mitchell brought Willard to a stop and tucked his phone back into his pocket. For moment he just leaned over the horn of his saddle and stared in disbelief at the scene before him. Somehow, Henery had caught up to truck and single handedly apprehended one of the suspects and shot the other. Dead, it seemed.

"My God, Henery." Exclaimed agent Mitchell, "Nice work."

Mitchell dismounted and pulling his horse along with him, checked out the contents of the truck. "Very nice work indeed." he complimented the cowboy then informed that he had just put a call in to his field office notifying them that the situation was under control. "I'll need to send them a full report tomorrow, so I'll need the names of the ranch hands who were murdered, then I'll notify the county coroner."

Mitchell took one more look at the truck load of drugs once more, shook his head and exhaled nervously. "You realize, Henery, that this load has to have a street value of about five hundred grand." the agent calculated. He then looked over at the cowboy with a worried expression, "Someone is going to be pissed as hell when this doesn't show up. They're going to want it back."

The agent was just now starting to realize the implications of their actions and his mind began to formulate a rather ugly scenario. He had no back-up, no team, it was just him and the 'roughrider'. He'd be damned though if this payload was going to hit the streets.

"Henery," Said the agent as he walked over and handed him Willard's reins, "I'm gonna drive the truck. You gotta place we can stash it? A safe place? I've gotta feeling that whoever these pieces of shit work for we'll coming for it. I'm alone here, Henery, and no offense to your local law enforcement but I don't think they're up for this fight. If you don't want to get involved, I'll understand, it's risky, people could get hurt. If that's the case then just point me in the right direction."

Ten miles southeast of Arnett, just outside the town of Ropesville was one of the roughest bars in Texas. Even the state troopers avoided the place which was considered a virtual black hole of crime. If someone got too close and pulled into the place they were considered as good as dead.

Inside, the bar wasn't much. Dark and permeated with the stench of stale beer and blood one would wonder why anyone, even the lowest of the low would want to spend any time in such a place. The answer was simple, though. It was the answer to just about all questions that were similar — money.


Rednecks was owned by a ruthless man by the name of Harley DeCamp. Born the bastard son of a junkie whore, he himself joked that he was conceived behind the eight ball, which wasn't very far from the truth. At the tender age of nine, he was already running drugs and had made his first kill; a boy six years his senior. It was rumored that he beat the teenager to death with his bare hands, laughing as he did so. Those that knew him, questioned his Humanity, convinced that a monster like him had to be a Meta, but no one knew what he was, nor did anyone have the guts to ask. It was said that one of his best friends once inferred that he might not be Human, and without hesitation, Harely wrung his old friend's neck right in the middle of the bar.

Harley sat at his private table in the back corner of the bar. A place where he could see everything coming. Blue smoke curled out from under the brim of his hat, obscuring his face as he played his game of solitaire. A few tables away, a group of his men, nervously watched the cloak, their eyes occasionally drifting over to Harley, as they anticipated their employers response to the mishap.

The shipment was already half of an hour late and all of the men sitting at the table were in one way or another responsible for appointing the men responsible for the drug-run. It was their asses if anything went wrong, and they were just about ready to kiss them good bye as clock ticked by another minute. Finally one, a big, burly man rose from his seat and walked over to DeCamp's table. Despite the silent, fearful protests of his companions the man walked toward his employer with no fear. He stood over the man and began to offer his sincere apology.

"Mr. DeCamp, sir. I jus' want ya ta know that —"

The man's words were cut short... literally. With blinding speed, DeCamp's arm flashed through the air. There was the flash of metal, then a crimson spray of blood erupted from the man's throat. As the big henchman reached up and futilely tried to close the gaping hole in his throat, Harely continued to sort the blood soaked cards spread out in front of him. He smiled at his progress, completely oblivious of the man dying at his feet and while the man still gurgled away finally acknowledge by peeking over the side of the table.

"Now, ya'll know better than ta interrupt my game, don' chya now?" he said.

The men at the table nodded and nervously answered with stuttering, 'yes's'.

DeCamp then slowly looked up and across at his lackeys. "I... want... my... shipment.." he said coldly.

Quickly the men stood up, grateful that DeCamp didn't choose to just kill them all right there. They each promised to bring back the drugs and realized that if they were not able to attain them, that they best just kill themselves as DeCamp surely would.


As they left the bar, Carnicero the toughest looking of them, nodded to a group of bikers who had been waiting. "Find them." he ordered, "Find them and kill them! And if they are already dead, kill the ones who have stolen from us!"

Tim brought the jeep to a slidding stop just below a ridge, stood up in the jeep and brought a pair of binoculars to his eyes. He watched as a man in a white shirt and tie and dress slacks slid into the cab of a old beatup pickup truck, as a cowboy lifted a man that was tied up into the back of the truck. Tim sqinted a little then recognized the cowboy as Henery Timble. Henery. Henery took the riens of a second horse in his hand nd climbed on his own horse. The man int the suit turned the truck around and began following Henery back towards The Circle T.

"Well 'ppears Henery's got everything in hand." Tim said as he sat back down. "What say we git on back an finish that thar fine breakfast. We gots some ranchin ta do." he said to Yelena as he back the jeep back down the draw.

It was time. Time to leave the reservation and Aunt Jackie. Morgan looked around the small house one last time and thought about what had happened these past weeks and how much she'd changed. She was no longer the young girl Tim Rutherford had almost run down months ago. She'd matured, she'd killed and she'd changed. Her lavender eyes were no longer their soft color of lilacs, instead they'd darkened to a deeper hue with a silver lining around the irises. She had absorbed the ability to call to insects after Sasha/Frank's death as well as the ability to sense other mutants. Although the latter was minute and she had little control of it. The insects were also a challenge and extremely difficult. She'd found that the 'brain' patterns were very different from those of animals and she used them as little as possible, despite her Aunt Jackie trying to get her to practice. She wanted nothing to do with what was once Sasha/Frank. She remembered back to what had happened, just after Allie had headed back to Chicago.

Allie had left with Morgan's blessings. Sasha/Frank had been quiet for quite some time and Allie needed to get back. She'd left on a Saturday and that Monday all hell had broken loose. Sasha/Frank had attacked her aunt and uncle's home with a vengeance, severely injuring her Uncle Sam. Morgan had led the mutant away from the reservation and up into the hills where a vicious battle had ensued. Hours later, Morgan returned to her Aunt Jackie the victor, but forever changed. Upon killing Sasha/Frank she'd absorbed the ability to control insects as well as sense other mutants, only she didn't know this yet. She walked into the house to find her aunt holding her uncle's head in her lap, crying. Her beloved uncle was dead. Days later, during an enraged grief stricken tirade, Morgan inadvertantly called a swarm of yellow jackets to the reservation. With Jackie's help, she was able to send them away but not before they'd attacked some of the people and children.

That had been 3 weeks ago and she knew that she had to leave before the people ran her aunt out as well for harboring her. She'd thought about where she would go as the days had passed and had thought long and hard about Tim and his offer for her to come out to his ranch. She wondered if he would be glad to see her, if he'd even thought about her. Sighing, she grabbed her backpack and walked out of the small house, thinking about Tim. She'd made the decision to head Arnette, Texas and try to find him. If he didn't want her there then she would leave and go elsewhere, but she knew that she had to try. The way things had ended between them had left an open hole inside of her and she needed to close it, one way or another. She had thought long and hard over the weeks on whether or not she should try and find Tim and finally had come to the conclusion that this was what she needed to do. For herself if nothing else. She was a survivor.

Jackie met her in the yard, holding the keys to the 2010 black Camaro that Allie had bought her before she'd left. She'd also left a hundred thousand dollars for Morgan as well as another hundred thousand for Jackie. Morgan smiled, thinking about her friend and how she loved to give people money when they needed it. "It's only money and I have plenty of it, so why shouldn't I share it with people who are in need. And you, honey, are in need of it right now." Those had been Allie's words to her before she'd left. The following morning, Morgan had woken up to her aunt hollering for her to come outside where the black Camaro was sitting with a bright red bow on top. A brand new soft top jeep was there as well for Jackie.

Jackie came towards her handing her the keys before pulling her into a tight hug. "I love you, Morgan and I don't blame you for Sam's death. You know this and don't forget it." Stepping back, her eyes shining with tears, Jackie kissed her cheek.

"Aunt Jackie, I know you don't blame me for Uncle Sam, but I do. And now.....well.....I've changed and the people see this. I love you so much. You've protected me and taught me. You've loved me unconditionally, but now I am a threat to you and our people. I will let you know where I am and that I'm okay. You have Allie's number if you need her and you have mine. I'll call you."

With her words, Morgan hugged her aunt tightly once more before climbing into the Camaro and leaving the reservation, heading south for Texas.

Once he had his bearings, Devon made a bee-line straight for Arnett. Screaming through the sky, a protective field of wind repelling any harmful particles that could harm his eyes, Wraith pushed it in order to reach the Sheriff as quickly as possible. A little under ten minutes later, the small town was in sight and turning invisible, Wraith landed behind the Jack Rabbit Gas Stop and Restaurant, materializing after he was confident it was safe.


Stubby was behind the counter when the tall out-of-towner entered the restaurant. Devon definitely didn't look local in fact he didn't even look, Texan by his standards.

"Hey there." he greeted with a friendly smile, "Com'on in mister. We don't bite. Well, I can't speak for Sherry here."

The bleached blonde waitress playfully scowled and gave Stubby a light slap across his back with her order booklet before she walked off to a table on the other side of the restaurant. Stubby just grinned mischievously as the stranger approached the counter.

Devon, scanned the establishment as he walked in. An impressive place for the middle of nowhere he thought. Outside were parked several long haul trucks, pick-ups, and some cars both with local and out of state plates. No doubt the man figured him for a traveller.

"Hi there." Replied Devon. "I'm looking for Sheriff Greer."

"Sheriff Greer?" Questioned Stubby, "Now how'd ya know he'd be round here, stranger?"

"Henery Timble, told me this is where'd he be." Answered Devon.

Stubby rubbed his stubbly chin and studied the man for a few moments before answering. "He's gawn."

"Where? I need to speak with him."

"'Bout what?"

Devon really didn't know quite how to respond to this man's nosy behaviour, but then he remembered that in these smaller towns people were always in each other's business. "Well, there was some trouble out at Mr. Timbles place."

"Uh huh.. What kinda trouble?" Inquired Stubby, curious what was going on out there that ruffled Roy's tail feathers so badly.

"I think I'd rather tell the Sheriff." Answered Devon.

That just plain agitated Stubby. "Look here boy, Henery's a friend of mine, now spill it."

A few other locals who had over heard their conversation had gathered round and suddenly, Devon felt like he was on trial.

"Henery's just fine." Said Devon to placate the small mob, then he thought up a quick story to explain how he came upon the man, "I got lost and came across, Henery after he had dealt with the men. He pointed me in the right direction and asked me to get the Sheriff."

Stubby was quiet. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at the big man, studying his features. There was a question on the tip of the man's tongue, but he just blurted out, "Okay." Then he explained that Greer received a call about twenty minutes ago and had already driven out to the Timble's ranch. "Should be pulling up the driveway 'bout now." Stubby figured.

"What?" Said Devon, "Why didn't you just tell me that at the start?"

Stubby laughed. "Well now, how in the hell am I supposed to know what the hell's goin' on then?"

Devon wasn't impressed and realizing how upset he seemed, Stubby reached across the counter and gave him a slug in the arm, a manly gesture of goodwill. "Cheer up, son. Shoot, you're wound tight. Sit down, an' let me buy you some breakfast."

"Sorry." Said Devon declining the offer, "I'm in kind of a hurry."

He wanted to get back to Lubbock and also every minute he stuck around Arnett, was one minute to time more that people might discover that he didn't drive into town.

"Sit down." Said Stubby with some force to his voice, "You tellin' me a man o' your size ain't hungry? You sit right down there at the counter. You ain't leavin' til you've tasted the Jack Rabbit's hash-browns."

Devon thought about making a break for it, but then he thought that maybe if he choked down some this guys, Jack Rabbit browns (which didn't sound too appetizing) he might tell him where he could find Tim. So, reluctantly he took a seat at the counter beside a couple old leathery faced rancher types.

A couple 'a cups of coffee later a platter filled with all the breakfast trimmings was set before him.

"Bun apa-teet." Said the man whom Devon learned was called Stubby as he loomed over him, waiting for that first bite.

In all due honesty, Devon didn't have one problem with the meal. In fact it was one of the best breakfasts he'd ever had, and when he told that to Stubby, the man beamed with pride.

"You see now. Ain't you glad ya stayed and set a spell?" Said Stubby.

Devon nodded. Actually he was. The animated Texan's infectious laugh and blatant honesty was refreshing. They'd exchanged a few details about one another, like his name and where he was from. Of course, Devon had little choice but use his alias, but at least Steven Moore's home city of Seattle was a half-truth, since he had actually lived there for a while. Two thirds of the way through his meal, Devon had almost forgotten why he had even come to Texas, then on one the TV's behind the counter the morning news came on and reminded him. The first story was of course about, Chicago. Apparently the the antidote provided by UMBRA was counter-acting their man-made plague, but now people were worried what was going to happen after they received their second, and final dose that would be covered by the government.

"Goddam! If those son's-a-bitches ever that tried that har, I'd give 'em both barrels." Cursed Stubby, "Can you believe this bullshit?" he directed at Steve.

Devon just complied with a nod. He really didn't know what to say, and thankfully, Stubby changed the channel to a sports network to watch the football highlights. Instantly his mood changed, and all Devon could think was that ignorance, truly was bliss. Not that Stubby wasn't in his right, to ignore the plight of everyone in Chicago. These were dark times, and R.A.I.D. had literally ripped the compassion out of people, even Devon found himself responding to the new coverage with a degree of apathy and was thankful when it turned off. As the highlights of last night's game were mulled over, Devon enjoyed the last few bites of his meal and thanked, Stubby. He then decided that it was a good time to inquire about Cowboy, and so he directed his question to the part-owner of the establishment.

"Hey, Stubby. I was wondering if a friend of mine was in town."

"Well who might they be?" Asked Stubby.

"He goes by the name of Rutherford."

Stubby grew quiet, and it was obvious that he was hiding something. "You say, you're a friend of his?"

Devon nodded. "Yeah, he told me he lived around here."

"Well," Stubby began, choosing his words carefully, "He does, but I haven't seen the man in years."

"Y'know where his place is though, right?" Inquired Wraith.

The man grew silent. Stubby was obviously rethinking his words and Devon could tell that he was protecting Tim by holding back the location of his ranch. Cowboy was lucky to have such good friends. Stubby turned away during his debate, then he stared back at the stranger, known as Steve. Devon thought he was about to let him know the location, but instead he looked over his shoulder at the three rough looking men who entered the restaurant.

The bikers had been in the area when the word was put out that Mr. DeCamp was looking for a lost shipment. The locals just stared at them nervously and it was obvious to Devon that the town's people probably had their run in's with these types before.

"We're lookin' for a couple of friend's of ours." Announced the shortest of the bikers, "They were driven' a blue pick-up truck. Any body seen them?"

This did not bode well. The three bikers wouldn't be content with any answer that didn't involve the whereabouts of their drugs. Unfortunately, no one at the Jack Rabbit had any idea what had transpired earlier that morning. That wouldn't matter much to the bikers though.

Nobody answered and so the bikers sauntered up to the counter and focused on the man in charge. "Where are they?" the speaker for the bikers asked once more.

"No idea what yer talkin 'bout, pal." Replied Stubby.

The older man, stared the biker right in the eye, not backin' down an inch and he didn't like his defiant attitude one bit. "Don't call me 'pal', you #$$%@ piece of @#$%!"

It was at that moment, that Devon looked over at the men, checking out what kind of weapons they were carrying, memorizing their locations.

"What the $%@# are you looking at?" Growled one of the bikers at the traveler sitting at the counter.

It was at that moment that, Devon caught Stubby's eyes and the older man immediately recognized the seriousness in his stare. His face then hardened and he didn't know why, but Stubby had a feeling that this muscular man could fight. The bikers had weapons though, and Stubby feared that if it came to blows, they'd beat, Steve to death. He'd seen it before.

"Look now. Why doesn't everyone just calm down." Said Stubby in an attempt to diffuse the situation, but the three bikers were definitely the 'hit first, talk later' kind of people.

The largest of the three, stepped up to the counter and reached across, driving the palm of his hand into Stubby's chest. The blow caught him flush and sent him flying backward into a rack of dishes. A stack of plates fell, shattering across the floor.

Devon stood up, his hands tightening into fists.

"Sit down man." Said one of the bikers, "Sit down, before we put you down!"

Morgan had taken her time driving to Arnett, Texas, making it a 4 day trip. She'd done a lot of thinking in those four days......a lot of self-searching. She almost missed the girl she'd been a few months ago when she'd first met Tim, but then again, she was weak then. She wasn't weak now and she never would be again if she had anything to say about it. She'd never told her Aunt Jackie what had happened up in the mountains the day she'd killed Sasha/Frank and she hoped she never would. She still had nightmares about that day. They were filled with blood and screams......human and animal alike. Shaking herself away from those memories, she concentrated on arriving into Arnett and finding the little motel outside of town to hole up in for a bit.

That was a week ago. She'd seen Wraith a couple of times but he hadn't recognized her as she was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap that was pulled down low. She'd also avoided the big man, making sure that he didn't see her. She just wasn't up to a confrontation right yet, even though she knew he wouldn't harm her, she just wasn't ready yet. She'd been asking around about Tim's ranch, but everyone had been tight-lipped so far, not wanting to tell her anything as they didn't know her. She understood this, but was becoming aggravated at the same time. She thought about using the animals around her but knew that that would do nothing more than waste time and energy on her part, so she refrained....for now.

Her stomach growling, she rose from the bed in the small motel room and looked outside. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a morning glow to the Texan sky. Her dark lavender eyes took it in then turned away. She didn't have time to admire the beauty of it. Showering, dressing and packing her things, she piled into the black Camaro and headed out to get breakfast, pulling into the Jack Rabbit's parking lot. Getting out, she stretched her small, toned frame and pulled back her long hair into a pony tail. She was dressed all in black...hip hugging black jeans, tight black tank top, and black hiking boots. The scar on the left side of her face stood out white against the golden brown of her skin. She walked into the little restaurant and knew right away that she'd walked into something....something not good. She took in everything quickly, including Wraith sitting at a stool at the counter. A couple of bikers were standing at the counter and an older man was pulling himself away from the rack of now broken dishes.

Sighing, she raised her eyes to Wraith then back down again, but he would have noticed the lavender color. She then took a seat at a booth and picked up a menu, acting as if the situation didn't bother her one bit. The biker who'd shoved Stubby looked her up and down before turning back to the man behind the counter. Morgan held her head low, making sure that the rim of the baseball cap hid her eyes which were now glowing. "Call to the scorpions, demon!! Have them overrun the bastards!!" Morgan's eyes ceased glowing as she quickly looked around. It was her father's voice she'd heard inside of her head and if there was one thing she was still scared of, it was him. She felt the pull of wanting to use her new ability and do as the voice bid her, but she restrained herself, knowing that she didn't have enough control to keep the arachnids from attacking innocent bystanders. She was also wondering about the humming she'd felt run through her as she'd neared the truck stop. It was more intense now that she was inside the diner and was drawing her towards Wraith. She'd felt it before, in town when he was near her. "C'mon....have fun with it!!! Use your gift!!" This was Sasha's voice and again, Morgan looked around, this time she saw Wraith looking at her. She didn't know what to do. Suddenly, she was unsure again, but when it looked like the big biker was going to beat the man behind the counter she knew she couldn't just sit there.

Lowering her head, so that noone would see her eyes begin to glow, she called to the scorpions out in the desert. Not the big black ones, but the little pale ones. She could feel their resistance to her call as they were wanting to burrow into the little holes and sleep away the day but they came regardless. She directed them to the two bikers and only hoped that she could control them long enough to keep them from beating the older man to death and then call them off. She knew right when the first one breached the ventilation system and dropped down onto the smaller of the two bikers, right onto his shoulder. She heard him scream as the small arachnid grabbed the flesh on the side of his neck with a small pincer before stinging him. Two more came crawling in on the floor and headed for the bigger guy which he stomped on with his big boot. Then there were five more scorpions and the people inside the truck stop were beginning to panic, but the arachnids headed for the bigger biker, the smaller one having fled only to collapse right before his bike from the sting.

Morgan could feel herself losing control over the stinging creatures and quickly guided them back out of the truck stop before she lost full control. Her nose was bleeding a little from the strain of controling them and she quickly wiped the blood away, her eyes going back to normal.

Before the arrival of the scorpions the biker's were already in motion...

Devon looked down at the biker standing before him, unmoved by the man's threat, then his eyes shifted toward, Stubby who had quickly regained his balance. The older man, motioned for the big man to sit down and not raise a ruckus, but it was too late. The other biker had already laid a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to push him back down into his seat, but the vehement shove was like a feeble tap to the brawny meta-human. Fear and confusion then rushed across the man's face. The biker wasn't a large man, but he had some weight to him, and the big guy should have at least moved back a foot or two; enough to get lined up for the haymaker he had cocked. Instead it was like pushing against a wall. Next thing he knew, it felt like his arm was caught in a vice and struck with a sledgehammer. With impressive speed and accuracy, Devon had grasped the attacker's hand and twisted it, straightening out the biker's arm into a prone position. Then with hardly any movement of his body, brought his other hand into the man's elbow and snapped it with his arm strength alone. The biker screamed in pain and as he threw up his breakfast all over himself, Devon's right foot crunched into the man's chest, throwing his limp form into his two buddies behind him.

As the two locals who were sitting beside Devon, ducked down and covered their heads, Stubby just stared, trying to make sense of what just occurred. There had only been one other time in his life that he had seen a three move combination performed with such speed and precision, but the power behind the kick was incredible. The short snap kick, only a mere flex of one's leg with no real body weight behind it had raised it's target's body off the floor, and into and through two other men. It was inhuman.

As the two remaining bikers scrambled to their feet, Devon sighed. Time for the guns to come out he figured. He readied himself. Devon was about to breech the distance between he and his opponents before they drew when the bikers started to dance about like someone poured battery acid down their shorts. Odd. He then noticed that there were scorpions everywhere, which even he knew just wasn't your usual Texas occurrence. It did occur to him then that there was one person who could call and manipulate insects in such a manner, and the last time they met, they had fought. How and the hell did she end up here?

Devon recalled before the fight started that a young girl with dark hair, wearing a baseball cap had slipped into the restaurant behind the bikers. That had to have been her! Quickly, Devon straddled the counter and landed before, Stubby.

"God damn! What in the be-jeezuz is goin' on?" Asked Stubby.

"You gotta back way outta here?" Devon asked as he pushed the man into the kitchen and away from the stinging insects.

"This way." Said Stubby as he lead the way to the back door, pausing long enough to grab his shotgun and box of shells which he kept on shelf over one of the freezers.

Stubby ushered the kitchen staff out along with them. In the lot at the back of the building everyone else scattered, but Stubby and the man he knew only as Steve put their backs to the wall on either side of the back door and waited. Quickly then the Texan, started loading shells into his gun while he slung his questions at the stranger who he now believed was most likely an associate of Rutherford's.

"What's with all those damn scorpions? I've never seen the like, before. They went right for them thar bikers. Do you think they'll come after us?"

"I didn't feel like finding out?"

"Shoot! Gonna have to call me an exterminator I reckon." Said Stubby, a little more chipper now that he had his shotgun loaded and ready.

Devon laughed, but Stubby didn't get the joke.

"Look," Said Steve, "there was a young girl in there, dark hair, baseball cap. I can't explain it, but she's the reason those insects attacked your restaurant. Her name's, Sasha. She's bad news."

"Yeah. There's been a girl hanging round town. Pretty young thing, kinda skittish." Added Stubby.

"You see her, you use that thing."

"Now hold on a minute there, partner. I ain't gonna go and shoot some deranged girl on account of you tellin' me she's like Carrie or somethin'."

Devon understood how crazy it all sounded. He could only let the man trust his own eyes and decide upon that. "Suit yourself." he said, as he turned and checked the far corner of the building for any movement.

Stubby still wasn't sure what to make of all this. They hadn't stuck around to see what became of the bikers and neither of them were even sure what was happening inside the restaurant. All he knew was that, if those scorpions didn't sting those fella's to death, they were going to be spittin' nails.

"I'm going round to the front." Said Stubby, "You can fight Bee-al-zee-bub on your own time, right now, you can back me up with those fists a' fury a' yours. We gotta check up on those bikers. Now, are ya with me or not?"

Devon grimaced and nodded. He hated bugs in every shape and form and he wasn't prepared to expose himself by using his wind abilities in front of an entire town. He had already left the question of what he might be in the minds of all those who had witnessed him taking that biker apart. Any other displays of his abilities would instantly peg him as a Meta. Apparently, Sasha cared little about revealing what she was. The advantage of a criminal lifestyle, he guessed.

Stubby lead the way. He creeped along the side of the wall, peaked around the corner then proceeded to the front of the building. Devon followed closely behind, ever so often checking behind him and looking up at the roof, just in case.

"So did you serve with Tim?" Whispered Stubby.

Devon thought about the question. "Yeah, in a manner of speaking." He answered. If one considered crime-fighting as service, he was telling the truth.

"Figured. You move like that wild-cat. Tell ya what, how's about I drive ya over ta his place later. I don't think he's around, but at least then you'll know the way. How's that sound?"

"Thanks, Stubby. I'd really appreciate that."

When they neared the corner, Stubby, readied his shotgun and peered around the wall, checking out the gas pumps and beyond them the front of the restaurant.

What had she done? Morgan knew that she may have just exposed herself as a meta and mentally kicked herself. What in the hell was wrong with her? She hadn't wanted to use the scorpions, but the urge to do so along with the voices she heard had made it impossible to resist. She'd sent the scorpions away after Wraith and the others had fled the restaurant and headed towards the back. She knew that her nose only bled with the insects when she was overloading herself trying to control them. While the bikers gathered their wits about them, she slid out of the booth and out the front door. She headed for her camaro when she heard a shout. "GET HER!!!" Whirling around, her baseball cap went flying. She saw movement over by the corner of the truck stop and her lavender eyes met Wraith's blue ones. Her eyes saddened as she wondered what he would think of her now. She was pretty sure that the tall, blond man was Wraith....the man who had kept her alive at the Green Street Base. She'd caught glimpses of his face when he'd been alone in the infirmary, on the very rare occassion that he didn't wear his mask. She was sure that the blue eyes she was looking into now were the same. She reached up and felt her scar, knowing that he'd done what he could to make it as obsolete as possible. It would have been a lot worse if not for him. All of her scars would have been a lot worse if not for him.

Turning back around, she jumped into her camaro and revved up the engine. Her eyes glowing lavender, she called to some buzzards near-by to attack the bikers and hopefully drive them off from the truck stop.

Yelena squinted as she held her hand over her brow to see what was happening in the distance. She couldn’t see that well from where she was at so she had to rely on Tim. She tensed and was ready for the charge but when he sat back down and looked over at her grinning that boyish grin of his, she felt her whole body relax. Smiling more than she had in some time, she nodded.

”Dah…I still hungry and I hate to waist good food. And I very much want to start ranching with you.”



After Tim and Yelena put the jeep back, covered it up and went back up into the house, they finished their breakfast in peace and washed, dried and put the dishes away. Once that was done, Yelena took Tim out to the small barn to show Henry and Kate gave her a paint pony to use. She called the little mare Irena. The barn had fresh straw, fresh hay and some grain stored in a back corner for the horse to eat. Proud of what she’d done so far with the place, she beamed as she looked over at Tim.

”I have other stall cleaned out for you in case you ever show up and need place for horse. Henry brought planks so I could replace rotten stall. I think I did fairly good job considering I am not a man. What do you think?”

Tim would immediately see the twinkle in Yelena’s eyes and realize it was the first time he’d seen it since she returned to the states. She was more like her old self than she had been in a long time. Relaxed. Smiling. Joking. And talking.

'What the hell?' thought Devon as he watched the black Camaro peel away. He was pretty sure the young woman driving it was, Morgan, but she didn't have the ability to manipulate insects. Not unless...

"Get outta here, ya son's a bitches!" Roared Stubby as he blasted his shot gun over the heads of the bikers.

They flailed away and covered their heads in an attempt to protect their faces from the maniacal vultures that descended on them as if they were road kill but when they heard the shots began to move toward their bikes. Bleeding and nerve racked the two men abandoned their third man and took off out of town in the opposite direction of the black camaro. The buzzards pursued them to the limits of Arnett then seemed to lose their interest and fly away.

Devon's train of thought had been interrupted by Stubby's over zealous bon voyage and by the time the man lowered his hog-leg, Morgan was long gone. He wondered what she was doing here, but then the obvious answer came to him — Tim Rutherford. The two of them had gotten close and at some point it must of slipped out where is ranch was located, but as Devon found out, Arnett was just a speck on the hub of the wheel. Saying one's ranch was around Arnett meant that it could be anywhere in the general vicinity of thousands of acres of cattle and horse country. Not exactly a specific address by any stretch.

That must be what she was doing here, figured Devon, looking for Tim. Only, none of these good ol' boys were about to let the cat out of the bag. The people of Arnett, like Stubby, were loyal to their friend and wouldn't give up his location to just anyone... at least not without proving themselves. Fortunately, Devon had done just that.

"Wooooeeeee!" Exclaimed Stubby. His shot gun laid across his shoulder as he stood over the scorpion ridden, busted up body of the biker that didn't make it. The bloated body lay in the main aisle of the restaurant, dead from the toxins of the hundreds of scorpion stings the man received.

"What a way to go." Said Devon, grimacing at the sight.

Stubby's face was impassive and answered with a simple, "Yip." He had no compassion for gangsters and seeing one of them dead in the middle of the Jack Rabbit was actually an uplifting experience for him, but he knew it would be short lived.

"So what now?" Asked Devon.

Stubby sighed. He knew this was just the beginning. "Well, we'll git this piece a shit outta my place. Then I suppose we'll prepare for World War three."

Devon knew enough not to touch the body before the investigation but followed, Stubby's lead anyway. He bent down and grabbed the shoulders of the body with no hesitation, while Stubby took the legs.

"Y'know, scorpions don't do this." Stated Stubby as they carried the body outside. "You said that girl done this? How?"

Devon was sure how to respond. When he had made the statement he had expected he'd have been long gone before he'd have to explain himself. "Well... she's a Meta-human." he said honestly, after all what could he say?

"A Meta? Well, how bout that. Never seen one in the flesh before; and y' say she's dangerous, Steve."

"I don't know, Stubby, maybe, and the names not Steve, its Devon. Devon Gale."

Devon thought he'd rather come clean about his identity, especially since he had chosen to trust him.

"Figured as much." Said Stubby as they dropped the corpse in one of the vacant bays of the garage. He wiped his hand on his pants and shook Devon's hand, "Pleased ta meet ya. What say we go and see if that old coyote is around."

While Devon washed up, Stubby gave Sheriff Greer a call on his cell and let him know what had happened. He also mentioned, Devon but continued to use the alias he had originally been using, simply for deniability on Roy's part. Stubby figured it was best his friend didn't know the man's real name and he knew that Roy would agree with him.

After, Stubby collected Devon and he lead him to a garage behind the Jack Rabbit. He unlocked the door, flicked on the light and there in the middle of the fully stocked garage was a candy apple red, two seater dune buggy.


"Holy shit!" Was all Devon could say, throwing Stubby a curious look, "I sure didn't figure you for an adrenaline junkie."

Stubby grinned widely and hopped into the driver's seat with surprising spryness.

"Hey there son. You wanna grab that case over there, before you hop in." Stubby asked Devon.

Devon walked over grabbed the heavy black case and stepped into the passenger seat. He tucked the case into a rack at his feet and buckled himself in.

"Ya best be sinchin' those straps tight." Said Stubby in a most disconcerting manner. He then tossed Devon a pair of goggles, revved up the engine, hit the automatic door opener and drove straight out into the open steppe.

If Devon wasn't sure before, he was definitely sure now that he was in hillbilly hell. Stubby, took the most inaccessible route across country, hitting every jump he could along the way, laughing as he did so. The crime fighter had to admit that the man knew how to have a good time and not before long, Devon's usual reserved manner had caved in, revealing the boy that lurked in all men. Together their screams could be heard across the hilly steppes for at least a half mile as Stubby, launched the dune buggy over bluffs and through creek beds on their way to Rutherford's main ranch house.

Morgan watched Wraith and Stubby drive off in the dune buggy from the hill top where she'd driven to. She wanted to follow them but knew that with a dune buggy they would be taking a route her camaro wouldn't be able to follow. Sighing, she leaned up against the door and looked around. She was at a loss as to what to do. She'd exposed herself, something she hadn't intended on doing. But, she'd found something out about herself. Somehow....someway, Sasha/Frank's 'essense' was inside of her head, at least, that was the only conclusion she could come up with. It was bad enough that she'd absorbed some of their abilities, but to have to hear their voices out of the blue had to be the worst.

She looked down at her black hiking boots and kicked a rock, frustrated. The buzzards had worked and she was sure that Wraith had seen her, but he hadn't said anything. A part of her was grateful for that for she wasn't sure if she was ready to see anyone just yet. She'd been surprised when she'd seen him in town and after the humming she'd felt outside of the Jack Rabbit she was positive now that it was him she'd been sensing off and on since she'd arrived. Again, she sighed. It was something she'd found out her father could do, sense other metas and she wasn't happy that now she could. But, maybe it would come in handy if she could enhance it.

That was when she perked up, remembering everything her aunt had taught her. Her eyes glowing, she scanned the area for a bird of prey and located a peregrine falcon. Connecting with the bird, she instructed it to locate the red dune buggy and follow it. Her abilities with animals had grown by leaps and bounds since she'd left Chicago and she was about to find out just how far her reach was.

Stubby pulled the dune buggy up in front of a rather quaint looking home and at first glance it was plainly obvious that it had not been occupied for some time.

"Weeeeoooo! What a ride!" Hollered Stubby, "How'dya like that?"

Devon shook the dirt out of his hair and slowly peeled back his goggles. His face, his clothes, everything was covered with mud and dust. His only change of clothes... trashed. Until they hit the first creek, Devon honestly hadn't considered the dirt factor when traveling in a vehicle which was essentially a frame with wheels.

Stubby tried not to laugh, but he couldn't contain himself. "Damn, you're a sight!", he commented as Devon, uncomfortably pulled himself out of the buggy. "If'n ya weren't so big I lend ya some of my clothes when we get back."

Devon stared down at his attire with a defeated expression, then back up a Stubby and smiled. "What a ride.", he repeated, prompting the old Texan to give another yip as he slapped his leg.

"So this is, Tim's place, eh?" Said Devon as he walked toward the veranda, "It's nice. Not exactly the kind of place I pictured him living in. It's rather quaint."

Wraith scanned the ground for any signs of activity, but he honestly wasn't much of a woodsman, and the FBI agents who had previously been there had been sure to cover their tracks. Even, Stubby, who'd been hunting since he was a boy couldn't tell if anyone had been there recently.

Devon stepped up on to the porch and took a peek into one of the windows. He placed his face against the window and cupped his hands round his eyes to block light and also hide the glow of his eyes. He used his specialized vision to see through the darkness and so absolutely nothing that would have suggested that anyone was inside. Devon turned around and looked off to the horizon and came to terms that his trip to Arnett had been all for not.

"Is there any other place where Tim might hide out, around here?" Devon asked Stubby, just to cover his bases before he gave up the ghost.

Stubby nodded. "There's a line shack over yonder." he mentioned, thumbing toward the wind break. Beyond the line of trees were some hills, and beyond that, Devon figured was the cabin.

Devon looked the trees at the rugged land and shook his head. "How in the hell do people every make it out here?"

Stubby just laughed. "Well thar city boy, there are these things called four by four's." He jabbed, holding up four fingers on each of his hands as he said the words. "A bike'll make it too, if'n the rider knows what he's doin'."

Devon just smiled at Stubby's sly remark. He was mainly curious, because the car that the woman who looked like Morgan was driving had a pretty low clearance. There's no way it would make it out here, which was good to know. He had no idea if that was Morgan or not. She had demonstrated an ability that her doppleganger used and that was a bad sign to the scientist. There was only one way, Morgan could have developed the ability and that was by somehow amalgamating with the creature, a scenario that Wraith had hoped Morgan would have avoided. He could not dispute the fact that something dark lingered in Morgan's eyes and figured it was best to avoid her for now. If he had to fight her, Wraith knew he probably have no choice but to use his meta-abilities and he wanted to avoid exposing himself if possible.

"Well let's get on over there." Said Stubby, "I want ta get back in time for lunch."

The going was rough, but the dune buggy easily handled the rugged terrain. Not before long, they could see the roof of the cabin, and both Stubby and Devon noticed the wisp of smoke rising up from the chimney.

"Well how's about that." Remarked Stubby, raising his voice over the noise of the buggy's loud engine.

Devon acknowledged with a small nod and signaled to cut the engine. Stubby complied, and parked the buggy on a ridge from which one could just make out the roof of the cabin beyond the hill. The older man didn't question the city slicker's instincts in this case. If whoever was in the cabin, wasn't Tim, then they'd get the jump on them and if it was, Rutherford then it was best to approach on foot and not spook the man.

Devon made a feeble attempt to brush off some of the dirt that was caked onto this clothing. The only place that wasn't covered with dust and dirt was the outline left by the goggles which he tossed into the buggy. While the tall man attempted to make himself look more presentable for some reason, Stubby fished out the black case he had asked Devon to pack and opened it. Inside where the pieces of a high powered rifle, which he slipped together and loaded like a pro. One again just another sign that he was in hillbilly hell, Devon thought.

"Okay, let's roll." Commanded Stubby as he slung the rifle over his shoulder.

The gun was more for show than anything, but Stubby wouldn't hesitate to use it if he really had to. Chances are, though, if it wasn't Tim, it was most likely just some good ol' boy borrowing the place for a spell. They'd know soon enough. The hike took them a little under seven minutes and Stubby and Devon emerged out of the brush definitely looking like two men who had been out dune-bugging or dirt-biking, except neither man was really wearing the proper attire, especially Devon.

"Hello!" Called out Stubby, "Anybody in thar?"

Morgan's head was splitting and she was sweating by the time she ended her connection with the falcon, but she now knew where Wraith and the other man had gone. Hopefully it was Tim's place, but she wasn't sure and her car sure in the hell wasn't going to get her out there. She wondered if she should just wait now that the bikers were gone and see if Wraith returned then approach him. She wondered if he could help her disconnect with Sasha/Frank. She hadn't known that by killing the meta the way she had it would cause her to absorb the thing's abilities and now it seemed some of it's essence as well. To her, that meant that she now truly carried a darkness inside of her, a darkness she didn't want. If Wraith couldn't help her though, then she would have to learn how to resist it.

She decided to wait for now...wait for Wraith to return to the Jack Rabbit. She would approach him then and hope for the best. Maybe he would help her locate Tim if he hadn't found him already.