Chapter 4 – Just Hanging With Friends

Despite several traps, a major distraction, and the distinct possibility of infiltration by our enemies, life had to go on at the Raid. While cruising around the grounds, which was my habit, I got a call from Mary-Linda Conrad, the guidance counselor at Allan Trehearne Wellington High School, frequently called East High as bordered on the shadier side of town.

Mary-Linda, who’d been a counselor since I’d been there, was unknowingly the Wolf Pack’s eyes and ears for new recruits, but also our warning system when our kids got out of hand. She’d called me to tell me about a young man, named Dayne, who’d gotten into a fight with another student. Her concern was the fact that Dayne’s punches came with the rapidity of a machine gun. I reassured her that we would make sure he received discipline, but reminded her that the students who attended Timberwolf were special and needed that extra bit of space. In the end, she took my assurances, and showed me out of her office with that giddy smile and giggle, which earned her the nickname of “perky lady” when I was a student.

I’d parked my truck in the staff parking, in the rear of the building. It provided near perfect security for the teachers’ cars; problem was, it was also out of sight from passers by. I found a gang of punks waiting for me at the truck.

From the looks in their eyes, my sense of imminent danger pricked. When the leader of the gang took the first swing at me, it occurred to me I was alone, without the help of the rest of the Pack. I blocked the punch, putting a quick jab in his gut. It knocked him back, and his partners came after me. I managed to evade one of them with a roundhouse kick, but the other managed to get a grip on my arm. With a quick grab, I flipped him over my shoulder putting him on his back. Unfortunately, the other two thugs got a better grip on me than their friend did.

Struggling to break free, I tried to wrench myself from their clutches, to no avail. I put up a hell of a fight all the way to the rusting, beat up Econoline van parked in the last row, but by this point, they’d gotten sick of my fight and one of them took a piece of broken baseball bat, whacking me on the back of the head. Before I blacked out completely, I could vaguely remember crashing into the opposite side of the van, landing on my face with a small crunch underneath me.

Zack was starting to get worried. Tobey hadn’t come home last night. The blond Front Of House Manager had last seen his boyfriend at the spa last night dancing with Ms. Woods. In all the confusion with the kidnapping, handling the guests, and coordinating the cleanup and repairs, it had been a late night. As if that excitement hadn’t been enough, then of course there was meeting Nightwolf.

When the wolf had appeared, Zack felt like he was dreaming. And the god in blue and black actually spoke to him. The boy was in heaven. He had actually said he was “????” Zack’s secret crush had stepped out of the poster hidden in his office and into last nights dreams.

While he woke up missing Tobey, Zack secretly hoped for another meeting. But with the morning sun rising, he did too and began his day.

As he finished checking morning rounds, the resort’s gossip crossed his path.

“Two Socks!” he called.

The matronly gray haired head of House Keeping paused from helping put room 203 back together.

“Good morning dear,” she responded with a warm smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. It was always a joy to be around her. Zack kissed her on the right cheek.

“Two Socks, have you seen Tobey?”

TS might be geriatrically gifted, but she was still quick on her feet. Most people thought the woman went by TS to hide the fact her paycheck proclaimed her “Bessie”. They would be wrong. TS was her Wolf Pack name as one too many pairs of socks had been sent to her laundry only to return orphaned. Her name was more a prayer of the pack, as in, “Dear Lord, please let two socks return!”

TS took care of the pack like an overprotective grandparent. She had received the report of last night in the morning briefing email. She knew how much Tobey and Zack cared for each other and prepared to lie her butt off.

“I believe he is staying with Mr. Tepnapa,” the Irish lady fibbed. “He should be around either today or tomorrow depending on how much that nice director fellow needs him.” She made a mental note to have Calley shoot an email throwing a false trail off site.

The tall, hunky, fair- haired man hugged the diminutive woman and went back on his rounds. His jealous side kicked in a little at the thought of his boyfriend and Tepnapa together, but he knew Tobey would never cheat on him.

Of course both read the menus, but neither ordered take out.

Then the thoughts of Tobey were pushed out of his mind as resort business imposed itself once again…

Seth and Shawna sat under the oak tree at lunch and tried to catch a breather from the past two days.

“Been pretty tough lately,” Seth said, “I mean, trying to keep our head down, but also keep our eyes open for the ‘somebody’ who might’ve infiltrated us.”

“I know,” Shawna replied, “And Ty was telling Calley that Mr. Slagenweit hasn’t comeback from town yet. He’s starting to get worried.”

“You know Mike, he get’s talking with Ms. Conrad about something and they can go on for hours.”

“Yeah, but when there’s somebody here trying who’s helped the Fashionista kidnap two people, don’t you think he’d want to be here, finding this person out?”

“Sure. But you gotta remember, he still has to be the business man.”

“That’s true.”

It was at that moment, they saw Ty-Ohni running up the drive from the entrance, something clutched in his hand. It looked like a paper or an envelope of some kind. The teens saw the panic stricken look in the eyes of the Raid’s groundskeeper. They dashed up to him, lunch forgotten and Seth asked, “What is it Ty?”

“This,” he replied. He unfolded the piece of paper. Across it was written: “Three out of three. You lose!”

One word escaped Seth’s lips, a harsh whisper, “Shit!”

I opened my eyes to a somewhat welcome sight. Laying on my back, I could see the relived faces of Becky and JT watching over me. A smile broke on my face and I said in a light whisper, “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun! Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon…”

Becky laughed and said to JT, “He must be okay, he can still quote Shakespeare.”

I smiled as JT helped me to sit up, my head still aching from the blow to my head, and a sharp pain in my left wrist. I pulled my hand around to not only see the purple bruise welling, but the smashed face of my wristwatch. Shit, I thought, that meant no com-link and no tracking device. How ever the Pack was going to find us, it wasn’t going to happen though conventional means.

“Are you two all right?” I asked.

“We’re fine,” JT replied, “Better than fine, practically treated like royalty.”

I raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, wondering how he could consider his kidnapping all right. Yet, at the same time, I also wondered if maybe some small part of Adam wasn’t breaking through the Fashionista’s persona. Certainly possible, considering the people he’d kidnapped, but unlikely I thought.

The cell we were in, was entirely enclosed, no windows, and decorated in various, tasteful, shades of red. My morbid mind thought it might be for “red death,” but considering when the Fashionista’s cronies brought lunch in, I understood what JT meant. Not death, but degree of certain hospitality.

That hospitality didn't last long, I quickly discovered. Not long after the fillet mignon, the same goons who'd bagged me earlier appeared again.

They'd cleaned themselves up after our first encounter in the parking lot of East High. All wasted though if the opportunity arose again to attempt escape. The leader of the goon squad said, "Now that the pleasantry BS is done, you have an appointment with the Boss."

"What business could we have with him?" I asked.

"A time of reconciling accounts." he growled.

"And suppose we don't want to reconcile our accounts with your Boss?" I said. Out of the corners of my eye, I could see JT looking at me like I'd gone mad, while Becky looked a little scared. I held my breath a bit, trying to stifle that bit of nervousness.

"Well that is just to bad little man." The goon snarled bringing his 6' 4" height towering over the captive. "If da Boss has things to settle, They get settled." Moving with a speed that belied his stupidity, he grabbed Mike by the left arm and wrenched it nearly out of its socket as he twisted it behind his back.

The other burly henchmen maneuvered into place taking the hostages in hand. a dark skinned guard grabbed JT roughly by his biceps from behind and on simply stood over Becky and took her rather firmly by the right arm as she sat on the armchair.

"GREETINGS my distinguished guest!" In strode the Fashionista in a red silk smokers jacket with black dragons roaring on the sleeves and grasping his smoking wand in the left hand and struck a regal pose. "Please pardon the manhandling by these "and here he positively gushed "manly men!"

"Stuff it, Adam." I said, "What do you want from us? Ransom? You're not going to get it. And all these theatrics are getting you no where."

JT looked close to tears. "Adam why are you doing this? We love you!"

The Fashionista strode over to his former lover and caressed his cheek behold the man he had loved.

CRACK!

The blow came without warning staggering even the guard holding JT.

I looked away, seeing the absolute pain in JT's eyes.

A muffled sob sounded from the left side of the room where Becky had been sitting.

"LOVED ME?! LOVED ME!?!?! THE MAN I LOVED LEFT ME TO DIE!?!?!" The evil cackle made the guards shiver in dread

Any hope in my mind that JT could bring Adam back to the surface died in that moment.

"He didn't Adam!" I shouted, "I forced him out! If you're going to blame someone, blame me! Let these two go!"

The mastermind of malevolence skewered Mike with a withering stare.

"But Mike, don't you realize that I do blame you. You ruined everything." Turning his back on the men, he walked over and took Ms. Wood's free hand and drew it to his lips and kissed it with all the panache of an English lord.

Becky squirmed a bit with the gesture. I wanted to race over and break this up, but my struggles were subdued by the thugs holding me. Somehow, my strength seemed to be failing me.

There might've been something in that food we'd eaten, but I couldn't take the time to do a scientific analysis right now.

The kiss broke up. JT stared at Adam with a look of venom in his eyes, any pain he'd felt subsided.

Setting beside her on that armchair Adam pulled a stray hair from her eyes; eyes that were shimmering with tears.

"Leave her alone, Adam!" I shouted, voice going hoarse with the effort.

The Fashionista turned his head slowly leaving his eyes on the dark haired maven and spoke.

"Mr. Slagenweit. You should mind your manners and your tone. You brought us here and should you need to be, a lesson in manners can and will be taught." he spoke glacially

"Then let's get on with it," I growled, "And stop wasting my time."

I knew I was flirting with danger, but I didn't care

The goon behind him didn't seem to like that and bent him nearly in two by pushing his arm being restrained ever higher

With an exasperated sigh, The Fashionista got to his feet and flicked his ashes without care. "Sir, i am not taking with your tone. I had hoped to avoid the unpleasantries with Ms. Woods in the room, but alas that is not to be." Snapping his fingers on his right hand in the air, more bouncer wannabes entered the room. "Boys. Work 'em over and teach 'em some manners. Call me in a half hour or whenever the one with facial hair screams like a little baby.

And with that he sauntered out of the room and the guards advanced. The Fashionista reached the intersection of the hallway when a female wail echoed down the stone halls.

They started with Becky, and both JT and I fought as hard as we possibly could to break loose and tackle the goon hurting our favorite actress, Through this all, my mind ran between anger and trying to clear my thoughts to make contact with Fuzzy or Ty-Ohni.

Try as I might, nothing would come, just noise and static. The thoughts of the goon squad, JT, Becky, even Adam somewhere I thought all clouded together in one big stinking mess. Ty had told me I could make a mental link if I learned to clear my mind, but with all these emotions running together in a marathon, made that next to impossible.

This torment lasted for what I thought was an eternity, but was only a few moments, when they turned their attention to JT.

Grabbing the director by his legs and arms, two guards hauled him bodily from the room and took him away followed in the same manner by Mike. Becky they allowed the dignity of walking

Down and down they went on the flights of stairs. After six flights, they entered a cavernous room filled with all sorts of fun equipment. Fun that is if you were the Marquis de Sade.

The fair maiden was taken to the northern wall and shackled in place against the hard stone and kicked and fought as the guards secured her and turned their attention to what she hoped would be her rescuers.

Separated, the men were led to different arenas of misery. Strapped down face up on a long plank, JT's eyes grew wide and begin to wriggle with all his might. Above him hung the shape edged blade of death. Turning pale, he realized he was on a guillotine.

Michael would not fair so well. Metal bands placed around his wrists, the chains attached were hauled and forced him to stand on his tippy toes.

The guards grabbed him by the collar and as he gently swung, they ripped his shirt from his body exposing his back. He felt warmth from nearby and chuckling, the guards turned him towards the source... a fire bucket and several white hot pokers.

I couldn't remember the last time when I'd felt such a conflict of emotions... JT about to be guillotined, Becky in chains, and me about to be branded like a cattle before the slaughter. It was all like something out of a bad horror movie.

Sweat dripped down my face and chest. I felt the branding iron close to my back, heat rising into the air.

"Wait a moment, boys," the Fashionista said, coming into the room, "Not yet. He needs a working over before we fry him."

A momentary relief sprung in my mind, maybe under all that bling, Adam was still there, trying to break loose.

Dumbass, I thought, when the mottled fist wearing brass knuckles landed in the side of my face. There are days I hate it when my gut feelings come to pass.

The pounding sounded like a football being kicked around. In the distance, between the blows, I could hear Becky pleading with the thugs, trying to get them to stop. I held my tongue; trying to ignore the pain I was starting to feel, not wanting to give in.

"ADAM! ADAM; PLEASE!" Our Heroine pleaded. "Stop please you're gonna kill him!" Tears flowed down here creamy skin and reflected the fire light.

"But my dear - That is the whole idea!" The Fashionista's personality screamed Sepulveda Blvd. But he relished the grunts of pain. Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. "Oh Boys - You are forgetting someone," pointing to the struggling future headless one.

The momentary relief from the physical pain was immediately replaced with a resurgence of emotional pain as the goons started pounding on JT. I kept thinking, "No! Stop! Don't" Anything to get them to stop, all to no avail.

Becky tried to turn from the terrible scene in front of her, but all she could do is close her eyes as the laughing guard beside her gruffly took hold of her hair and forced her head in the correct direction.

I tried again to establish a mental link with someone, anyone outside the chamber-- at this point, I didn't care who. Nothing! It was worse than trying to pick up your favorite program during a thunderstorm.

Another eternity passed. Looking at the bruises blossoming on JT's skin, I couldn't look anymore. I'd never wanted to bring this on my friends, never in a million years. I'd worked so hard not to involve my friends in the problems of the Pack, but try as I might, guess it wasn't meant to be.

"ENOUGH!"

When they stopped, I'd hoped that might be the end of it. That was before the knives came out.

The guards stood in mid swing. The Fashionista stood with his hand up. With gravity he walked towards the battered body of his former love.

A suffering gasp escaped JT's throat.

JT was sobbing and moaning from the beating that had been inflicted upon him. Looking Down on him, the Fashionista clucked and shook his mane of dish water blonde hair.

Looking over at Becky, he took Mike in at the same glance. "The day of the fire. I lost everything. My career, my love and my life. But nothing compared to the heartache of knowing my true love had moved on. But I think since my life died that day, Tepnapa's," He hurled the name like an insult, "Should end today. What do ya think?" And with a flourish he grabbed the rope attached to the blade.

"I always thought JT would like to be taller. Alas I guess that was not to be." Without any indication, The Fashionista yanked savagely and the blade fell.

Becky let out a shrill wail!

Every nerve in my body clenched in despair.

The blade fell towards the horrified man with a scrapping of metal to slam with a THUNK into the wooden barrier inches from JT's throat. The Fashionista let out a roar of laughter

I opened my eyes, which I'd squeezed shut with the impact, and saw where the blade had landed. I roared with anger, a new surge of strength to struggle against the restraints.

Becky knew if she had any type of weapon, Adam would be history. He was toying with them. And she had had enough.

"Adam, what the hell? You're toying with us. Well I have had enough of your sick games. Tell us what the hell happened that day. How the hell did you survive the inferno? It wiped out have of studio 8!" Her bosom was heaving at the anger burst forth from her.

Uncontrollable crying issued forth from the macabre contraption that held JT. He was being torn from the machine and thrown against the wall next to Becky and bound in similar fashion.

Between labored breaths, I said, "Wondered that myself, Adam."

The Fashionista had been concentrating on the ranting of Ms. Woods. Now he turned a stony look to the voice beside him. Mike knew all bets were off now.

There was a feral look to Adam's eyes that warned of danger. Danger that couldn't be avoided as the blade that had been up the red silk sleeve drove deep into Mike's side and in a moment that startled both the hostages and the guards, The Fashionista began savagely beating on the man hanging from the chains. Backhands; punches; spittle flying. This was something Adam, gentle Adam, could never had done.

"Why? WHY?!? YOU DARE TO ASK WHY!!!" The Fashionista shouted. The smell of the cigars he smoked now was rancid in my nostrils.

"Fashionista, sir?" a guard asked timidly.

"WHAT?! How dare you interrupt me?"

Becky and JT both wished the horrifying scene would vanish but it would take months.

The quivering guard spoke. "Sir you asked us to remind you not to kill them. You wanted to take your time and make them suffer, sir."

What little sanity was in him flowed back into the Fashionista's eyes.

"I'm not going to kill him, you frakking idiot!" Adam hissed, "But he is going to pay for what he's done. You wanted to know why, Mike, this is why!" He jabbed a finger at Becky, you took her away, you bastard!"

A long pause drifted between us. Eventually I said, "No. You're wrong, Adam. There was nothing at all between us."

Rage flushed in Adam's face.

His whistled through the air snapped Mike's head around as The Fashionista's blow landed.

"DON"T YOU FRAKKING LIE TO ME! I WAS THERE! I SAW YOU TWO!!!

Confusion reign on Mike's face and the bewilderment drew down on both hostages on the wall.

Then the realization hit me like one of the blows I'd just experienced, Adam could no longer distinguish reality. We were there, that day, filming a thriller with a touch of romance, my first foray into the world of acting... Becky was light years beyond me, who was nothing more than an enthusiastic amateur compared to her, but somehow my performance won JT over and he wanted me for this scene.

The call of "again with more feeling" echoed across the sound stage

The icy look had returned to the Fashionista's eyes. As he wiped off the blood on the knife in Mike's hair, he led them down a journey of Memory Lane.

"Again with feeling!' JT had said." His voice was hypnotic pulling the hostages in.

Then Becky walked in and rushed into your arms and I knew it was you who had destroyed everything JT and I were building. It caused my blood to boil searing through my veins kinda like this."

Everyone had been enraptured by the story and no one noticed the Fashionista pick up the white hot branding iron until it began crackling against the bare flesh of Mike's torso.

The shock and pain of the iron against my skin was like a thousand knives being plunged into my body at once. The scream of anguish broke out of my lips before I could even think about holding it back.

At the same time, in the little part of my subconscious, I felt a twinge which might have been a break through of the mental static. I was in no state to know, either way.

All I knew is that two inches of burning steel was being driven into my side with all the force of a rampaging rhino.

The Fashionista pulled back the branding iron admiring the fresh "F" now a fixed to his victim's left rib cage.

While verbal chaos and struggling reigned supreme, there was nothing but the three of them. The Fashionista. Michael. And the Pain.

The smell of boiling blood and burned flesh permeated the air.

Again the brand cooked the man's flesh as the Fashionista jabbed it against his side.

My head had dropped, but rose again with the jab. If I was coherent, I might have worried about whiplash. But all I knew was pain. Burning, searing, pain! God, I pleaded, make it stop! Just make it stop!

Over and over the mantra, just kept repeating like a broken record in my head. Except for a small moment, which could have been an eon, I called out, Help me!

Above the roar of confusion between the screams of pain and terror was the raw unadulterated laughter of pure joy. The Evil contained in the form of handsomeness reveled in the pain he was causing taking a pause; he turned and reheated the brand.

A croak managed to escape my throat, a whisper, "....stop, Adam.... please.... stop...."

The blonde hair hung into his eyes as he tilted his head and gauged the scarred visage in front of him. "Stop? Do you want to know what happened that day Mike?"

"...anything... just... just..."

The grinchy grin blossomed on his face. "Well here is what happened that day, my old friend. Better yet let me SHOW YOU!" Pulling the brand and its mate out of the fire, the Fashionista jammed both against Mike's damaged rib cage as hard as he could!

Across the county, deep in the recesses of the Wolfpack's Den, the Medical Ward walls reverberated with an unholy inhuman howl of pain as Tobey sat upright and fell from the gurney. Ripping away his shirt as the sound of pounding footsteps echoed in the halls, Tobias ran his hands against heat of the 5 Fs that had burned into his skin.

Ty and Calley were the first people Tobey saw through teary eyes as they helped him onto the bed.

Darren slid to a stop at the front of the bed and crossed himself. "What in bloody hell?" he whispered.

I struggled to get out what I had felt as I felt my healing powers kick in.

I was racked with sobs. The pain coursed through me and it wouldn't stop. I had no idea where it began and no idea how to make it end.

All I could do is was howl in agony as fresh burns appeared.

Calley, panicked, hit an intercom, and said in a frenzied rush, "Ty, get in here!"

Ty heard Calley's frightened call and with Seth and Shawna trying desperately to keep up, dashed into the woods near the secret entrance to the Den. He'd only heard that tone of voice from Calley on a couple of occasions and knew something was really bad if she used it.

"What is it?" he asked in his familiar boom, upon entering the medical ward.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!"

I thrashed around in the bed - anything to get away from the pain.

"I see," Ty replied, seeing the agonized expression on Tobey's face.

"What the frak is going on?!" Darren demanded.

Tears streamed down Tobey's face as Seth entered the Infirmary and Shawna instinctively moved to Tobey's side and began applying her skills. Confused as more wounds appeared she looked at Ty, "This isn't normal. Something is not right here."

"Ain't that the truth of the almighty!" Darren replied, "So do you know what it is?"

Unexpressionless, Ty said, "Mike. It must be."

"What?!" Calley whispered. He can't be doing this. He doesn't have that type of power!"

Cana walked over to a corner and collapsed in a chair his head down. They could hear muttering from him. Cana didn't know what else to do. The only power he could invoke at this point that would be of any help was prayer.

"He doesn't," Ty said, "Not as far as I've been able to tell. The problem is that Mike's abilities were never recognized early enough and many may still develop. Still, I have never seen this before."

"We have to stop this before he kills Tobey!" Calley pleaded.

"ADAM PLEASE PLEASE I AM BEG--NOOOO AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH!"

They looked at each other. Darren was the first to speak. "Tobey - Adam isn't here mate."

Tobey screamed again as another F appeared on his cheek

Ty stepped to the opposite side, his aura beginning to glow about him. He laid one of his great palms on Tobey's forehead, and said, calmly, but forcefully, "Tobey, block the pain from your mind. Take my strength and block the pain."

"AAAAHhhhhh" The tension started to fade from his face.

"Ty? Calley?" The pain disappeared from his eyes. Shawna kept working. "Oh dear god" as tears welled up. "He's killing him. I saw Adam's face. It isn't him anymore. We have to hurry. Where is Mike?"

Ty fell back, breathing heavy from the effort. Seth stood, and said in a pained whisper, "Mike is gone. The Fashionista has him."

Darren looked up as Luna entered. "What about his comm unit?

Calley said, "It went dark over two hours ago, I don't know how long..."

Luna's face was etched with concern. "How are we to find him then?"

"We will find him," Ty said, recovering himself, "We must find him. If this is any indication, he doesn't have much time."

Fuzzy strode into the room, looking forlorn.

Tobey just lay back on the bed. "Somebody ask the fur ball. Maybe he knows how to find him?"

Ty looked at Fuzzy and said, mentally, Can you find him?

I believe so, the wolf replied. It will be difficult to pinpoint precisely, but I have confidence I can.

Ty said aloud, "Then you must."

"What's the verdict mate? Can 'e or can't? Mike doesn't have all bloomin' day!"

Tobey reached up a hand. "Easy there Darren. Ty if you and Fuzzy can get me a general location I can jump you there. Then we can get a better fix."

Ty nodded. He strode over to where Fuzzy stood, dropped to one knee and looked the wolf straight in the eye. Their minds linked in a moment, and Fuzzy reached for Mike's mind.

The images which flowed behind Ty's eye were like a camera running at warp speed through a maze of city streets, zigzagging this way and that, into the shady side of town, coming up on an abandoned club on Gold Mine Drive.

Ty broke the link, and said, "I have it. The Palisades Club."

"I hate that frakin' street," Tobey grumbled as he threw back the covers and waved off the protesters trying to force him back down. "Mike doesn't have time for this. Between Shawna and myself, I am pretty much up to operational strength. Seth, Ty get geared up. Fuzzy stick close. Darren get the gear necessary. Calley I want you coordinating with Two Socks. Lock down this resort and do it yesterday. We don't need any other problems while most of this is going down." Placing a shaky hand on the bed, Tobey steadied himself. "Shawna - you stay here in CNC with Calley. Someone call in Ookami. Luna you have the resort to guard and look after. We may be on lock down but you ladies know how to rock this place when needed." He looked around and saw the people moving except Shawna.

Looking down at himself, the scars were already disappearing from his skin. "Let's hope they fade this fast from Mike. Aw dammit!" Shawna looked concerned. "What? What is it?"

With a bit of a smile, Tobey held up the remains of his top. "This was my favorite pair of scrubs. Well at least it wasn't the hospital gowns. Be right back." In a flash Tobey vanished and wisped back into being in his guise as Nightwolf.

Ty and Cana met them in CNC. "Calley - double trackers on all of us. Get the cops ready to roll." He looked around at his team and they wore the expressions that they were out for blood.

"Here's the game plan. No rules. No mercy. Everyone comes home. If possible grab the Fashionista but do not do any permanent damage. Questions?"

"When do we get started?" Cana asked.

"Right now. Calley we set?"

"Yep." She continued to type commands into the computer and set the resort in order.

"Good. Take care ladies. Gents: Back to back please. Ty place your hand on Cana's and mine shoulders. Cana put a hand on my shoulder and hold Ty's hand. I got Fuzzy." Kneeling down in front of him I asked "Ready Furball?" He just licked my face and we assumed our positions.

"You might want to close your eyes," I told the strike team. Addressing the look of concerning the women folk's faces, "Don’t worry ladies. We'll bring them home." And with a splash of light we were gone.

Back in the Lair of Madness, through the excruciation and humiliation, a tiny smile creased Mike's weary face.