HEROES Chapter 8

Tim rested his hand on the newly installed rails of the stall and gave then a hard shake. Then said "Well now pardner I reckon ya dun dun yurself proud thar. By thunder I do think yu'll make a rancher fur shur." he then gave Yelena a smile and addded "Tamarra we'll mosey over ta the Circle T an I'll have Michael fetch Slew Foot fur me. I reckon we awta find out what all the shootin was 'bout as well." It was then when he heard the sound of a vehicle aproaching, in the distance. Tim unholstered his two pistols, tossing one to Yelena, pointing to her, he then pointed to the loft, he raised two fingers to his eyes then made a sweeping motion with them. The signals for her to look around, they had used many many time in the past. His mind flashed back to the barn in Yugolslavia right after they had first met. Tim then approached the barn door cautiously. It was then that he heard Stuuby's familar drawl.

Yelena was sharing some time with Tim she hadn’t been able to share in a long time when the moment was interrupted by the sound of an approaching vehicle. Grabbing the gun tossed to her by Tim, Yelena nodded to his hand signal and moved through the barn like a tactical soldier looking for the enemy. Silently making her way to the loft, she positioned herself where she could see the outside through a crack in the loft door.

As she peered out the crack with the gun held up by her shoulder with both hands, she didn’t recognize the older man but the tall, muscular blond she recognized right away. With a quick audible signal that got Tim’s attention, she whispered loud enough for him to hear her.

”Is Wraith with some old man. What you want to do?”

This was Tim territory and she would wait to see how he wanted to handle the situation. Did he want to let anyone know they were there? Was he familiar with the old man? What the hell was Wraith doing there? Would things EVER get back to normal for them? What was normal anymore?

Devon reluctantly paused when Stubby raised his fist, the generic army signal for 'holding one's position'. At least that's how, the ex-special operative for Beacon interpreted it. Wraith never really cared to much for the military jargon. He thought it best though to simply comply, Stubby suddenly seemed on edge and had smoothly let the rifle slide off his shoulder and into his hands. Not a good sign and though Devon hadn't detected anything out of the ordinary he always held store in the 'sixth sense' that some people developed. Stubby, definitely displayed military training and they were usually the types that developed a heightened sense for danger, so Wraith prepared himself to act if necessary.


Stubby remained motionless. Only his sharp eyes in the shadow of his ball cap's brim scanned the area. He was facing, Yelena and it was near impossible to tell whether or not he had somehow detected her. In fact he had sensed something, but whatever it was could of just as soon been some little critter scurrying about, he trusted his instincts though. Stubby suddenly raised his rifle and fired a shot into the air and listened intently.

Devon jumped at the loud bang and frowned at the Texan, but he knew what he was doing. The shot would flush out any animals, but the Human kind would remain silent. The thunderous boom echoed across the arid land as both men strained the ears to detect the movement of any spooked animals. Personally, Devon was hoping he heard something. He sure as hell didn't want to get in the middle of a fire fight, 'but honestly would it come to that?', he pondered. Well, this was Texas.

The cry of a bird of prey caught Devon's attention. Glancing up, he saw what he thought might have been a sparrow hawk or something (he really wasn't sure what birds of prey were common in Texas) circling high over head. The same bird, that he was pretty sure had been flying around them since they parked the dune buggy. Stubby had taken note of the bird as well, but neither of them had thought much of it at the time, but just then, Devon remembered how Morgan was able to utilize the senses of animals. Was that bird spying on them? He couldn't be sure but no matter how paranoid he believed he was, Devon could not dismiss the fact that it was possible. If so, she knew where they were, but unless she managed to get her hands on an all terrain vehicle or a horse she wasn't going to get close. Devon even then began to calculate the possibility of Sasha or Morgan, who ever she was, obtaining a horse. He hadn't seen any corrals around the town of Arnett. She'd have to obtain one from a ranch somewhere and they were all a good distance away. If she went that route, he figured they'd at least have a couple of hours anyway before her arrival. Whether a person cut across the rugged country or went around it, one couldn't make much better time than that. So, if Tim was here, they'd have plenty of time to prepare, and if not, he and Stubby would most likely be long gone before then.


The sun was getting high as Sherrif Greer's Bronco came rolling to a stop beside the old barn across from the Timble's ranch house. Roy parked his truck then put in a call to dispatch letting them now what his situation was, then informing them that he was proceeding to investigate the premises. He then hung up the mic, and sighed. He sure hoped that Henery and Tim hadn't gotten got in a tussle with that FBI agent. It was then, just as he stepped out of the truck, that Greer spied the pick-up truck being driven by agent Mitchell, followed by Henery, who was drawing a horse behind his and strapped to it was a man!

Roy sauntered over and placed his hands on his hips. "What the hell is goin' on here, Henery?", he asked, the tone of his voice rising a few octaves.

The Sherrif just stared at the FBI agent as he drove by and parked the truck, then turned his attention to the man who was tied to the horse, his arms and legs bound in standard fashion one does with criminals.

"Its alright, stay put fur now Keep yur eye out , 'case they were fallad." Tim said to Yelena so only she could hear. He then rested the butt of his rifle on his hip and stepped out of the barn door. He left the barn door open slightly, incase he needed to dive back inside. "Yur gittin a might skidish in yur ole' age ain't ya Stubby? Whose yur pardnar thar?" Tim asked as he nodded towards Wraith.

Henery stepped down off his horse, dropping the riens of the second horse and walked over to Roy.
"Well now Roy this har fella." pointing to the man tired up on the horse "An a pardnar a his, abushed Fred and Lopez out along tha north fence. Looks like them two was fixin' ta sell em sum drugs thar in that pickem' up truck. One of them bastard took ta shootin' at me, reckon yu'll find him out thar next ta dusty crick, ifin the varmits don't cart him off." He looked at the Sheriff and said "Oh, this har is F.B. I. Agent Mitchell cum all the way down cher lookin fur some fella they call "The Wrangler". Seems he's got it in his head that Tim Rutherford is mixed up with this her "Wrangler" desporado some way. F.B.I. Agent Mitchell har's been pokin 'round cher fur a spell."

Morgan climbed back in to the camaro and sat there, rubbing her temples. The sharp pain was starting to fade, but her head still had a dull pounding rumbling through it from stretching her limits with the falcon. She reached back in the backseat and pulled out a water bottle from the small cooler she had sitting back there and opened it, taking a long drink. She knew that eventually the pain in her head would go completely and she would be able to function again, it was just waiting for that to happen. She rolled down the windows so that the breeze blowing could come through the car and laid her head back on the head rest of the seat. Closing her eyes, her thoughts began to drift, as she drifted off to a light sleep.

She was telling Allie good-bye and that she'd visit soon, standing next to her aunt and uncle on the reservation. Things had been quiet for some time now with Sasha/Frank and she was hoping that it would remain that way. She'd already begun to think about going to Texas and finding Tim. Her Aunt Jackie had been encouraging her to, seeing the look of longing that would cross her niece's face from time to time and she knew that she was thinking about the cowboy.

She drifted into the next day when she saw the camaro and soft top jeep and how excited she'd been. Then the attack, the insects bombarding the house, something taking control of her uncle's mind and forcing him to try to choke Jackie to leave Morgan alone for the fight. She watched as Jackie fought with her own mental ability to free her husband from Sasha/Frank's mind control only to lose sight on what was attacking the house.

Morgan saw herself in the dream running out of the house, only to see everyone running about, trying to protect themselves from the wasps, bees, biting flies and hornets that were suddenly everywhere. She saw the mutant standing on a small incline not far from the reservation perimeter and ran to it, using her own abilities to make it concentrate on something else and lose focus on her home. She sent buzzards, hawks, foxes and wolves to attack them only to see some of them cut down, the mutant drawing a pistol and shooting them while calling back the flying insects from the reservation to attack the animals and Morgan. She watched as animals fell to the bullets only to see a lone wolf leap at the mutant, it's jaws clamping down on the hand holding the gun. Blood was everywhere when Morgan got to the mutant, her knife drawn as she leapt at the mutant, tackling it. She saw herself straddling it, her knife at it's throat staring into it's eyes which were black as night. Suddenly, they turned blue, looking like her father's and the thing laughed at her right before she slit it's throat, blood splattering over her face, chest and arms.

Morgan woke with a start, staring out into the landscape through her windshield. She was shaking again, her breathing erratic as she tried to calm herself from the dream of what she'd done. She'd never killed like that in her whole life. Never had she felt the surge of adrenalin and the overwhelming urge to end someone's life as she did that day when she took Sasha/Frank's life. She wondered if Tim would even want to see her if he knew how she'd killed the mutant. She wanted to believe that he would believe that she'd done what had to be done in order to protect herself and her family, but she had killed with a coldness that she didn't know she possessed and it scared her. She was actually relieved to know that the thing was dead and actually glad that she'd been the one to kill it. So, what did that make her, she wondered. Heartless....without a soul? She didn't know.

Starting the car, she drove off the small hill she'd been sitting on and headed for town. She was going to buy an all terrain vehicle and go on out to the small cabin she'd seen Wraith and the older man go to through the falcon's eyes. She didn't want to wait to see if Wraith returned or if he would help her. She wanted to see Tim, find out if Wraith could or would help her and if Tim.....well, she could hope.

Stubby spun around and just as quickly as he readied his rifle, raised it high once more when recognized Tim.

"Well I'll be! Tim! Goddam its good ta see ya!" Stubby greeted as he walked up to his old friend to shake his hand. Gripping it hard he glanced at the rifle then stared into Rutherford's cold eyes, "Look's like I'm not the only one who's a might skittish, there pardner." he commented.

When Tim asked him who the guy was with him, Stubby immediately got suspicious. Devon had told him, that he and Tim had served together, although he wasn't too specific where and when, and red flags went up when Rutherford didn't recognize him.

"Ya sure ya don't know this guy?" Asked Stubby as he slowly turned around and leveled his rifle at Devon.

"Shit!" Was all that went through Devon's mind as he stared down the barrel of the gun. He was pretty sure Tim knew what his real name was, and that he had also changed it to Devon Gale when he got set up in Chicago.

"Calm down, Stubby." Said Devon, raising his hands, "We do know each other. It's just.... well... it's complicated."

The mud covered crime-fighter threw, Tim an imploring look and could only hope that he could provide some sort of an explanation to satisfy, Stubby.


Back at the Circle T...


"Fred and Loppy are dead?" Questioned Sheriff Greer in a state of disbelief, "Damn, Loppy owed me fifty bucks. Over by the north fence ya said?"

Roy took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Well, hell. I guess better call the coroner.", he figured;

Before that, though, he started walking toward the pick-up truck. Mitchell, was just getting out when the Sheriff strolled up to him. "Agent Mitchell. You're damn persistent, I'll give ya that."

Mitchell had remembered the song and dance that the Sheriff had gave him a few days ago and so there was no love lost between the two. The agent just ignored, Roy and flipped back the tarp that was covering the drugs.

"Holy shit!" Exclaimed Roy when he saw the load.

Without hesitation the Sheriff picked up one of the bags and flipped it over end for end to look at the bottom of it and there it was. Holding his finger on the small red symbol that looked like a small pitch fork, he showed it to the agent.

"That's Harley DeCamp's stamp." Roy informed him, "What are you doing with all this anyway? You wanna start a war?"

Mitchell wasn't phased. He had never heard of this man before, but by the expression on Roy's face, he figured this DeCamp was well connected. That alone made him worry. He was expecting some retaliation, but not the kind that the Sheriff's reaction depicted.

"We just can't give it back." Argued Mitchell, "Henery's going to help me stash it, then we'll work on bringing this DeCamp in."

Roy just glared at Henery. "And just where do you think is one of the first place's DeCamp's men are going to start hey?" He asked him, "DeCamp will tear this place apart. He'll tear everything apart until he gets his stuff back."

Mitchell couldn't believe the Sherrif was contemplating giving this drug dealer back his product but he did have a point when he mentioned that the Timble ranch would be one of the first places DeCamp's men would look.

"Well, he's not getting it back." Swore, Kaleb.

"Well now fur once me an F.B.I. Agent Mitchell, har agree on sumthin'. That thar rattle snake ain't gettin' his "Yoho" back." Henery said, then looked hard at Ray "I nev'r took ya fur a coward Ray. Makes me wunder ifin' all that coffee and Ginger's apple pie at "The Jack Rabbit" has softened ya up. Ifin' that rattle snake D'Camp ur any of his boys shows one hair of their ugly asses out cheer, ole Mogan's Funeral Parlor 'ill be doin' a land office buisness in scum bag specials." Henrey then walked over to the Sheriff's Bronco and opened the door. "Ifin' yea ain't got the gumption fur this Ray, I reckon ya best mozey back ta town."

____________________________________________________________________

The Circle T...


Roy turned to Henery, placed his hands on his hips and gave a loud sigh as he ran his fingers through his thinning hair before placing his hat back on his head. He had the look of a man carrying a tremendous burden and he was.

"Now, Henery, you know damn well I'm not one ta back down frum a fight but you know how many guns, DeCamp's got." He thumbed back toward the agent, "This guys got no back up. I got four, maybe five deputies if'n you count Stubby, so what you figure's gonna happen when DeCamp and his army 'a bikers storms inta town?"

The Sheriff stood his ground. He wasn't trying to be obstinate, but he believed he had a point. "I gotta be considerin' everybody's interest in this matter. A lotta people are gonna get caught in the cross fire if we take a stand, and if one kid get's hurt over this, it's on your head Timble. Think ya can live with that? I know I as sure can't."

By the end of his speech, Roy was fuming. Usually a calm man, he hated getting all riled up and he hated even more arguing with his friends.


Mitchell leaned back against the pick up, his arms folded across his chest. Roy was right, he didn't have any back-up. He figured the Sheriff was aware of that because he was responding to a support call, which meant there were absolutely no resources available right now. That was just great. He blamed RAID for that. The FBI had been struggling to make ends meet lately, there were a lot of budget cuts and the international agency was the main cause of it. Every year they got fatter while all other's agencies were forced to tighten their belts.

"What if we ship the drugs outta here." Mentioned Mitchell.

"They're still gonna, plough through our town lookin' for it." Roy interjected.

"Not if we advertise what we we're doing." Countered the agent with a sly smile.

"An ambush?" Figured Roy, "Boy, you're dumber than I figured."

"You got a better a idea?"

"Don't tell me what ta do in my own town, boy." Growled Roy.

____________________________________________________________________

Tim walked up to Wraith and stared at him coldy, then slapped him on the shoulder "Well now if it ain't Master Seargent Steve Devon. Retirmn't seems ta have treated ya right kindly Steve." He said as he patted Wraiths stomach and grinned. "Don't look like ya've missed any meals thar son."


Tim then turned to Stubby and said "Me an' ole Steve har seen some action tagether down in El Salvador and a few other places. Ain't we Master Seagent? Steve har's a Jarhead., never could get his sea legs though."

Devon was nervous as Tim approached, his cold stare sent chills up his spine. He honestly had no idea what to expect from Cowboy, the rogue meta was unpredictable and that combined with his unyielding sense of justice made him dangerous. Devon had no idea what side of the road he stood on with Rutherford and when he lashed out and slapped him on the shoulder, the big man actually jumped. He instantly relaxed when he turned to Stubby and began described to him their fictitious past. As Tim went on he nodded in agreement to everything he said, even holding his hand to his stomach and horribly acting the part of sea sickness for the last part of the story. Master Sergeant Steve Devon actually came across as being a bit of a dweeb, unfortunately Devon wasn't putting that on.

Devon smiled and tried to come up with something to reply with, but he just drew a blank. He knew very little about the military other than what he remembered from the few war movies he'd seen and somehow he figure that reciting lines from Platoon wasn't going to cut it. He'd never been to Central America, hell, he couldn't even speak a word of Spanish.


Stubby seemed to ease up and trust his friends story but something just didn't sit right with him about the whole situation. He didn't doubt that Tim and this man knew one another, but he had his doubts that the big man was a jar-head, he just didn't have the right personality. The name thing also confused him. First he was Steve, then he admitted his name was Devon, then it turned out his name actually was Steve Devon.

"Ooookay." Said Stubby as he slid his rifle back over his shoulder. He stepped closer to the two men, laughing a little as he reminisced about his own time in Central America. "Pura Vida Mae" he said to the Sergeant, "You ever tangle with any 'a those Ticos?"

Devon's eyes widened and flicked over to Tim for help. He had no idea what the hell, Stubby had just said or was alluding to, and the Texan knew it. 'Pura Vida Mae' basically translated to 'Pure LIfe Dude' and Ticos were what Costa Ricans commonly referred to themselves as. It was a common saying, or Dichos of Costa Rica, but also one that someone who spent some time in El Salvador would be familiar with.

Stubby followed Devon's eyes and faced Tim. If he had a plan to attempt to bail out the man he didn't give him chance to execute it. "Shoot!" I'm just messin' with ya." He said with a laugh, "Don't be tryin' ta throw a wide loop with a short rope there, Steve, or Devon, whatever yer name is, I don't really care how the two of ya knows the other, jus' that ye do." He rested his hand on Tim's shoulder, "Everyone's got secrets. Shoot! A bird in the hand causes a big mess, don't it? It's just good ta see ya again."

Devon was relieved. "It is Devon." He told Stubby apologetically, "Tim was just respecting my privacy, that's all."

Stubby nodded. He was appreciative of the truth, but didn't pry. He trusted Tim, and if Devon was a friend of his that was good enough.

"So how long ya stayin?" Stubby inquired.

"Not much gits past ya, does ii Stubby?" Tim said with a sly grin. "Well, now ole Devon thar ain't no Jarhead and him an' me have been in some scraps tagether. But, lets just say that was a police matter up north. As fur as how long I'ma stayin, ain't right shur, 'pends on what happens. ........ Stubby, I'd shur appreciate it, ifin' ya didn't let folks knowed I was around fur a spell. I hav'ta lay low fur a spell. Things got a little ugly up north and well ...... it'd just be best fur all concerned that folks didn't know I was around." Tim trusted Stubby, he had been a good friend ever since Tim had bought the ranch, been a pallbearer at Tim' wife and son's funeral. Stubby had stood by Tim's side through the dark days that followed, after he retired from the Dallas Police Department. In fact Stubby and Henery were about the only two men Tim truely trusted.

"Got my word, Tim." Said Stubby, acknowledging Tim's request for anonymity. "Course ya know I gotta let Roy in on it."

Roy, Stubby and Henery were thick as thieves and when they got to into what they referred to as their 'colorful debates' there wasn't much that didn't pass between them, so one way or another the Sheriff would learn that Rutheford had returned. Fortunately, Roy was as tight lipped as they came and he'd go out of his way to ensure Tim's privacy.

"Roy?" Questioned Devon.

"He's the Sheriff and my partner. We own the Jack Rabbit together."

Devon leaned back a bit, folded his arms across his chest and offered Tim an approving smile. His set up in this part of the world was impressive, he had all the right friends. He could now see why Rutherford had decided to return home to hide out.

Stubby started laughing then, musing to himself over the recent events. "Damn, thar Tim," he said thumbing toward Devon, "but this har city-boy has too much gumption to be a jar-head and a bloody chihuahua knows more Spanish. He sure can fight though. Three bikers come waltzing into the Jack. Ornery lookin' cuss's, like ol' Henery on a Sunday morning. They come lookin' for a couple a thar friends drivin' a blue pick-up; damn right rude about it too. I told 'em I didn't know nuthin' about it and that's when things got a might ugly. Bastard up and tossed me into a rack a plates without any provocation. That's when your friend damn near tore the arm off one the other bikers and punted him like a football in ta the other two, bowling them both down the aisle like a couple a pins. Never seen anythin' like it.... well not since ya, took them sleeze bags apart. You both sure do fight the same, I'll give ya that. That's why I trusted him from the start. Ya can tell a lot by the way a man fights. You two move like them thar, sooper haros, ya used to see on the evening news back in the day before RAID started censoring the crap outta everythin'."

Devon didn't say much. His eyes met Tim's as Stubby continued on with his story.

"Strangest thing happened then. When those leather wrapped douche-bags started to drag thar sorry asses up a swarm a scorpions came a crawlin' in through the door. I've never seen so many a the dang things and we beat our feet the hell outta there along with everyone else. That's when your friend startin' talkin' bout some devil girl that had wandered inta the place." Stubby then turned to Devon, "What the hell wuz your meanin' back thar, huh?"


Devon could tell that Tim was already putting it together, so all he had to do was verify what Cowboy was already thinking. "I think it was Sasha, but she looked like Morgan. I think she might already know where we are." his pale blue eyes flicked skyward for a moment, "We saw some hawk or something circling overhead, might have been a coincidence or maybe it was one of the girl's tricks."

Stubby was confused. He just stood there chewing on his lip staring at Tim, waiting for him to make sense out of what the big guy was talking about.

It didn't take Morgan long to find a small hunting shop that also sold ATVs. She'd learned how to drive one while back on the reservation with her aunt and uncle and had the proper license to prove it. She looked around and found one to her liking and size. It was camoflauged to match the terrain, but she knew Tim well enough to know that he'd see her coming regardless. Butterflies started up in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again, her nerves all but shot with everything that has had happened the past few months. The elderly man who helped her asked a lot of questions on what a little thing like her was going to do with an an ATV.

"I just want to see more of the Texas landscape and take pictures."

Her smile smoothed him over and he sold her the small machine, also telling her where she could park her camaro for a small fee to collect it later. She thanked him and assured him that when she returned she would come back to his store to check into getting a trailer or something to haul the ATV with. After parking her car, she walked back to the small shop and the elderly man pushed the ATV out for her. She got on, forgoing the helmet, although she tied it onto the bars on the back of the seat and left town, heading for the small cabin where she'd seen Wraith and the old man go to.

A couple of hours later, she was stopped on top of a hill, looking down at the cabin, her heart racing at the thought of how she would be received.

Yelena listened to everything that was being exchanged between the men outside and breathed a sigh of relief. Slipping the gun behind her and tucking it away, she walked down the steps of the loft and when she stepped onto the floor of the barn, she walked up behind Tim as she squinted and looked past him at the others.

"Well now. Looks like there's some company that's come a callin'. Y'all want some sweet tea or some water? We got both in the house. Sure be a shame to come all the way out here and not quench your thirst at least."

She had practiced with Kate for hours and had that Texas drawl down to an art now. Her smile was infectious, to say the least and she was dressed similarly to the way Kate dressed when she was working in the barn. She smiled at Stubby then looked at Wraith with that same smile but her eyes seemed to bore into him. She could have easily changed into another face but if this man Stubby was a friend f Tim's to the point where Tim could trust him with his privacy, tehn she had no reason to fear why she couldn't as well.

Standing beside Tim and looked up at him as she smiled.

"Why don't you introduce me to yer friends, Tim? Might come in handy for me to know who they are one day."

Tim, slipped his arm around Yelena's waist and smiled. "Sarha, this har fella with riflr on his hip is Stubby and the city fella thar is Devon." Tim said "An fellas this har is Miss Sarah Montgomery, she's a friend a mine from a spell back an' gonna be workin' the place with me. Ya know yur right Sarah, some sweet tea shur would taste good 'bout now. An I don't think right clear in the hot sun."

After Yelena's familiar form emerged the from the barn and she was properly introduced, Stubby tipped his greasy ball cap to her, "Right pleased to meet ya, Miss Montgomery." and Devon followed suit with a polite nod and simple, "Hello."

Devon definitely remembered the Russian but respected her disguise. If their kind had any codes this was one of them, and he knew that in turn she would address him by his current alias while they were in front of those who simply did not need to know who they really were, for theirs and their own safety.

As, Sarah began to make her way toward the cabin, Stubby raised his voice, "Oh, none for me, please. I gotta get back. Promised, Ginger I'd be back by lunchtime and she can get right mean. I tell ya, that girl's got tongue enough for ten rows a' teeth, and she won't let up on me all afternoon if'n I walks in one minute past twelve."

Stubby leaned close to Tim, took his hand one more time and pulled him in close, "Rather watch 'er walk than eat fried chicken, hey?" He said in a low voice, then as he started chuckling playfully poked him in the ribs with his elbow. He then walked over to Devon and gave him a hard slap on the shoulder, "Well, 'Bull', you take care now and clean yer self up. Damn yer a sight!"


The old Texan's laugh could be heard trailing off in the distance as he vanished over the ridge, and when he was out of sight, Devon relaxed and stretched smile toward at Yelena. "It's good to see you again. Wish I could say that I was stopping by for a friendly visit, but trouble's brewing in Chicago."

Devon looked down at his muddy clothes and rubbed a hand across his dirty face. "Don't suppose you guys have a shower and a washing machine out here in the sticks?" The crime-fighter had a lot to tell them, about Chicago and why he was Texas, but first things first, he had to clean up.

"Yep, 'minds me a two wild cats in a gunny sack. You watch yur ass thar Stubby an tell Roy ta be right careful what he says. I hered tell thars a F.B.I agent pokin' round." Tim said to Stubby as he left.


Tim then turned to Wraith "We ain't got no wash machine but we do got a shower and indoor plumbin'. ....... Almost citified out har on the range." he said as the three friends walked towards the line shack. "So, ifin' Sasha has taken Morgan's appearance, that ain't good. I reckon we best be keepin' an eye on her fer a spell till we figure out what's goin on. ...... How'd ya end up down har, I hered sum crazy shit is goin down in Chicaga. Think R.A.I.D is behind it?"

Devon followed Yelena into the line-shack and while she headed toward the kitchen area, he and Tim hung out in the living room. The modest cabin was quite comfortable inside less rustic than he was expecting but the urban man was thankful for the small luxuries, like a nice soft sofa to sit down on.

Seeing that Yelena was still in ear shot Devon began to explain to both of them what was happening in Chicago. He described the plague, and that it was actually a signal being generated by UMBRA; triangulated towers that he and other members of the resistance had yet to locate. "We thought we were close at one point, but then we were attacked by this psycho hitman called, Grey Pyre. Took me, Sigma and Seizure to take him down, but he's locked away at the Green Street base now."

Devon then went to explain the serum. "My boss at Genomorph Labs was able to acquire a sample of the serum. I have all the data on it. We learned that it was created by a Doctor Ephraim Jacobson who works out of the College of Agricultural Sciences and Natural Resources in Lubbock." He then went on to describe how complex the serum was and that only it's maker could tell them what specifically it what do to a person, but one way or another Devon was betting on control or something like that.

"It's bad in Chicago, Tim." Devon finally admitted, "The signal generated plague causes deformities in Humans and over time they could lead to permanent conditions. The serum is working, but I am really worried that the drug itself is going to have an effect on the population as well. Its highly addictive, more so than heroine. I came here looking for you, because I might need some back up on this one. I'm not worried about Doctor Jacobson, but I do believe that he's working for R.A.I.D. I think that they are the one's behind this, working along with UMBRA if only to perpetuate people's hate for our kind."

While Tim and Yelena digested all that Wraith had told them, the big man uncomfortably stretched out in his mud covered clothes. Some pebbles of dried mud fell to the floor and immediately he offered to clean it up. As Devon rose to look for a broom and dust pan, which he figured he'd just carry around with him he then recalled another bit of information that Tim would be interested in. "Oh," he said, turning back "If you're wondering how I found ya, you're not going to believe this, but your FBI agent is staying at my hotel in Lubbock. The restaurant was packed this morning and the hostess stuck me at his table. How's that for coincidence, eh? He had all sorts of aerial maps of your property. He's been surveilling your land and the Timbles for a while now, but it looks like he's alone. His name is Kaleb Mitchell."

"Mitchell ya say, an his watchin' Kathy and Henery? Damn didn't want ta get them mixed up in this, they'r good people." Tim thought for a moment "Well Mr. FBI goes messin' with Henery and he'll think his got a hold of a pair of tornadas. He's onerier than I am and about twice as tough. ........ Ya all know I got yur back. ..... Why don't ya get them dirty duds off an take a shower. Thar oughta be sum duds 'round her that'll fit ya. Ain't got no Armini suits but thar ought be some jeans and shirts around. I thim ole "Slim left some stuff har might even be a pair as boots thatlr fit them gunboats you call feet."

Toril shook Tim's hand. "Thanks bud. I knew I could count on you." He then looked off toward the kitchen where Yelena was still quietly working away at making some iced tea and gave her a friendly nod.

It felt good to be among friends, not that Sigma wasn't good company, but Tim and Yelena knew him before he assumed the identity of Devon Gale and they simply felt like... home. Most of his life he had been surrounded by Meta-humans, but it had been a while since he had let himself trust any of them as much as he did these two.

Toril navigated his way to the bathroom by the way of Tim's pointing finger. Down the hall and to the left but before that he turned right into the last unoccupied guest room that appeared to serve as a outfitter's haven. Checking the closet and dresser drawers, he found lots of clothes that had been left behind or stored until the next hunt. Sure enough, this guy Slim that Tim had mentioned was a big man and Toril had found a suitable pair of his jeans and triple 'x' tall sized shirt which gave him more than enough room. The boots were a little wide in the toe, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and they fit well considering.

Carrying his new wardrobe he picked a towel out of the linen closet and entered into a rather ornate bathroom. Everything was made of wood, and whoever crafted it had done an exceptional job, a pleasing sight unlike the reflection in the mirror that stared back at him. Riding in that dune buggy had completely soiled his clothes. So much, for making his one change of clothes last. He should have known better.

The hot shower was rejuvenating. Toril felt like and looked like a new man as he fixed his hair in the steamy mirror and checked his look. Beaten jeans, worn work boots and red shirt. All he needed now was a tuque and his lumber jack look would be complete.

As he wandered out of the bathroom, carrying his soiled clothes, Toril called out to Tim, "I think I might be able to save these clothes. You gotta washboard? I think after a rinse off these shoes will be good as new."

Morgan didn't know how much time had passed as she sat upon the hill just looking at the cabin. The butterflies in her stomach didn't help any either. How would Tim react when he saw her? Would she be able to tell him what she'd done to Sasha/Frank? Would he even welcome her back? All of these things and more kept running through Morgan's mind. Finally, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The only way she was going to find out was to get her butt down there. She climbed onto the ATV and started it up, going slow down the hill so she didn't lose control and wind up flipping it. Once she was at the bottom, she picked up a little speed but not too much. After all, she was nervous about the encounter with Tim and was in no hurry to be rejected if that's what ended up happening.

After about fifteen or twenty minutes she was stopping in front of the cabin. She sat there, her lavender eyes looking around her before settling on the cabin again. Again she sighed, getting off of the ATV. She knew Tim well enough to know that he knew she was coming before she even got to the cabin. She knew she looked a little different, her hand raising up to the scar on the left side of her face, curving around her eye. Her eyes were darker now, sadder, harder and yet they softened whenever she thought or spoke about Tim and Yelena, but especially Tim. She was no longer the innocent girl from before......her father and Sasha had seen to that. Her hair was still long, thick, shiny and soft and her body had more curves now then before and more muscle. She fought back the tears that threatened to fall with the thought of Tim sending her away, knowing that tears would do nothing except give her a headache. She would have to accept whatever Tim decided. Little did she know, but they were suspicious that Sasha had killed her and was now able to look like her. But, this she didn't know. Had she'd known, she would be ready to prove that she was Morgan and not that schizoid freak.

Toril's call had fallen on deaf ears. Tim was in the living room preparing himself for some unwanted guests and it was only when he entered the fore-room that Toril heard the familiar sound of an ATV or perhaps a dirt-bike approaching. It definitely wasn't, Stubby's dune buggy, even the city boy could tell the difference.

"I take it your not expecting company?" Toril asked Tim.

Yelena busied herself in the kitchen making the tea for all of them. She heard Tim and Wraith talking and heard most of the conversation. What Wraith was telling Tim was really not much more than what she already knew, except for the incident that happened with Henery. But the news about Chicago hit her pretty hard. Seemed as though she and Tim got the hell out of that place just in time.

When she came into the room, she gave the Norwegian a small smile and offered him a glass of that tea she spoke of. He took the offered drink then headed off to the shower. As he washed the dirt off his body, Yelena spoke quietly to Tim discussing the incidences in Chicago.

”Perhaps is good thing we left city to come out here. I know things are bad there, but I not want to go back. I not want to get mixed up in anything other than tending livestock. I have had enough of dealing with bigoted, narrow minded people for my life. I sympathize with people there but….”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. She and Tim had been friends long enough to know where the other stood on any subject they spoke about and respected each other enough to honor their opinion. She knew Tim would do his own thing, as he always had. Just like her own self. But she also knew Tim would let her stay right where she was if that was her desire. Which it was.

The sound of an ATV approaching caught every ones attention and as they shared glances, Tim and Yelena were already in motion. Each one holding the hand gun they had previously held, they were taking up defensive positions in the cabin and peering out the windows. Even as Toril asked about expecting company, they both shook their heads.

Close to each, Tim and Yelena, was another gun. Tim had a shotgun while Yelena had a rifle. There was no doubt to the answer of Toril’s question. As the ATV came to a stop and the young woman got off of it, Yelena furrowed her brows. Glancing over at Tim, she gave him a puzzled look. There was no doubt they knew who it was but Yelena was wondering what she was doing there. And who may have followed her. And what the hell they were going to do now.

Worst of all, Yelena knew that with each person from the outside that showed up, the more risk they took of being discovered by someone they didn’t want to find them. Like Morgan, for instance. With a few hand signals to Tim, Yelena let him know she was going to take the back of the place and make sure there wasn’t someone lurking about then stay hidden.

As she gathered up the rifle, she looked up at Toril and whispered softly.

”You staying here or coming with me?”

Without waiting for his answer, she walked silently to the back of the cabin to do her recon then seek out the hiding spot she knew Toril could occupy as well if he so chose to join her. The choice, of course, was up to him.

"Looks like we hit paydirt boys." Said the biker, grinning fiendishly. Following the girl had paid off.

Shaved bald and covered head to toe in a tapestry of prison tattoos, the hard looking biker passed the binoculars back to his colleagues and narrowed his eyes as he looked out toward the line shack. A scruffy looking man with a wad of gauze taped over one of his eyes snatched the binoculars away from another and squinted through the eye piece with his good eye.

"Gimme that ya idjet!" Growled the man beside him as he grabbed the binoculars away while threatening to back-hand his friend. Then looking through them, spied the dark haired girl on the ATV and the cabin she had pulled up in front. "Yeah, that's her alright." he verified, "She's the one. I tell ya, I'd never seen scorpions or vultures act like that before. It was f***ing unnatural. She's one a them I'm tellin' ya, Barr."

"Yeah, those f***ing birds clawed out my f***ing eye!" Added the other as pulled out his switch blade and flicked it open, "Now, I'm a gonna take hers."

The bald headed looked over his shoulder at the man who had addressed him. He, like his friend was covered with red swelling blotches all over his skin; the remnants of the scorpion stings they had endured.

"You see the guy that busted up, Checkers?" Asked Barr.

"No. Ain't seen that sum-bitch yet, but ya can't miss 'em. Big fella, looks like a f***ing Vikin' or sumthin', wuz dressed like a banker though."

Barr turned around and shook his head. They were getting soft. "You f***ers get plenty ta chew on, but it hardly ever bites back. These freaks are tough, so ya'll best be ready for a fight! Harley wants his shit back! Let's go git it!"

Behind the two mangled bikers, was a small troop of about twenty men and women mounted upon their steel steeds. The bikers had approached slowly and sporadically so as not to raise any dust or make noise and give away their position. All of them were seasoned fighters, armed to teeth and ready for blood. One of their own had been severely beaten and it was time for payback, but more importantly their leader was sure that dark haired girl had something to do with their missing shipment. Seemed to them, that some of these super-freaks had decided to muscle in on their territory and had intercepted the blue pick-up truck that was hauling their drugs. They aimed to get it back and make those that took it pay with their lives. Only the scorpion stung bandits were concerned about the girl, the rest of them could give a shit about her, but Barr sure wanted a piece of the the big guy that busted up Checkers.

Barr stepped onto his bike and raised his shotgun high and all behind him gripped their handles. He then kicked his chopper, started the engine and revving it loudly screamed, "Cutthroats!" The name of their particular gang before driving forward, expertly maneuvering his bike through the rough terrain. The entire gang starting the engines in unison sounded like thunder in the distance, but there wasn't a cloud in a sight, just the dust kicked up by the approaching armada that descended upon the like shack.


Toril was hesitant to follow. His borrowed clothes had not been purged of their minute metal pieces and the magnetic fields that they possessed no matter how minute would prevent his dematerialization. There was still a lot he could do, but being able to vanish at will was a major part of his arsenal. It was only one lone rider though, and if it was Sasha, he was pretty sure Tim alone could handle her.

"Wait up." he called, as he ran after Yelena. He found it difficult at first to be stealthy in the heavy work boots but he quickly adapted.

Creeping up behind, Chameleon he looked over her shoulder toward the front of the cabin and that's when the sound of thunder boomed in the distance.

Toril looked up into the blue sky, then at Yelena. "I don't think that's a storm on the horizon." he whispered to her, and indeed it wasn't. The bikers approach was slow across the rough country, but they were closing in from all directions.