Heroes The Breakaway Chapter 1-Sweet Home Chicago

Bug whirled through the air towards the agents as the megaphone flung backwards. He was hoping for a quick strike on the remaining three agents, but instead he himself was the victim of their incredible training. The tactical lights hit him in the eyes, and direct light was something he was always sensitive to. He dropped his punching arm and all three machine gun streams hit him directly. John would hear a howl of pain come from Bug that he had never heard before. It was obvious that the point blank attack by three sub machine guns was a little more than even Bug’s skin could handle. True, none of the bullets penetrated, but the pain which he still felt was enough to drop him to the pavement.

He hit the ground with a crunch and clutched his chest as he coughed, attempting to recover. His sweatshirt and tee shirt were shredded from the bullets and he got to his knees as quickly as he could, and was fully expecting a kick or fist or v-baton to hit him in the shoulder, but instead he felt static electricity build, and the screams of human voices in response to a flank attack. He looked up and saw the daper new comer whirling his cane, then the smashed weapons, and a swift kick to the mid section which also sent him flying. Bug grit his teeth, the RAID agent had struck but his back was to Bug, a critical mistake.

Bug leapt and hit the RAID agent so hard in the back there was a distinct, but muffled crunch as his spine snapped just under the shoulder blades. The man howled through his mask and hit the ground twitching from the impact, his lower body now a useless attachment.

Bug flipped him over, a small trickle of purple blood oozing form his lip and started smashing the man’s helmet with blow after blow from his fists. There was no sound coming from Bug’s mouth, nothing but a look of sheer anger and hatred. The first two shots smashed the mask, the third caved in the right side of the man’s face, the fourth shattered the orbital bone on the left side, the fifth cracked the skull, the sixth split his head in half, the seventh simply hit goo and cracked the asphalt behind the man’s head. Bug stopped, he stared down at the mush which was only seconds ago a man’s skull. He brought up his bloody fists and then the intensity in his face left as he turned to look at John.

John, who knew Bug better than anyone, could see it in the young alien’s face, he was instantly full of regret. Though Bug had always been a fighter, and always done what he needed to do, he had never taken a life. John was the only one that would know this, and he could see in Bug immediately that he was feeling repentant.

As the agent fired that plasma rifle, Gabriel's eyes widened, and, in a purely reactionary move, the tall man sprung backward and twisted his body to the right sharply. The beam did hit him, though, luckily, it caught his right shoulder, instead of hitting him full in the chest. The force of the beam threw off his trajectory, however, and sent him down to the pavement with a heavy thud. He groaned, his left hand rising to the offended shoulder. The fabric of his shirt had burned away, and the flesh beneath was an angry red, the muscle beneath spasming uncontrollably.

Hearing the RAID agent shifting his body, however, Gabriel knew he had to move. He grunted with pain and effort as he flipped onto his stomach, favoring his right arm, and, as he levelled his eyes to the agent, he noted another thing levelling, the plasma rifle. Gabriel knew he only had the barest of moments, staring into that dark, empty circle that would fire up with a blinding light not unlike his own. So, he burst forward again, roaring, and, conjured a sword of that blazing energy of his into his left hand. Taking a stumbling step toward the RAID agent, he swung the blade of light in a wide arc, cleaving the rifle's barrel in two.

He let his forward momentum carry him, allowing himself to fall on top of the agent. He drove his right elbow into the man's chest, pinning him, and brought his blade up to the his face, his eyes sparking up in that familiar vivid blue glow as he sneered downward. Unlike Bug, there was much death in Gabriel's background, a nice handful of it having come from his own hand while under the influence of his own father's cruel guidance.

"I've killed men since I was a teen, and though I'd greatly regret having to do it again, if it means getting my friends out of here safely, I assure you I'll do it... Can't you just leave us the Hell alone?"

John watched as Jasper moved ahead of him, the Irishman moved like a cat, his cane spinning out in front of him. The whole area was charged with electromagnetic energy.

Just as Jasper attacked the RAID men shooting at Bug, Bug was fighting for his life, he was down but not out as the bullets struck him tearing through his hooded sweatshirt. John could hear the small heroes howls of pain as the RAID guns found their marks. Bug got back to his feet and wiping some purple blood from his mouth he let loose on one off the RAID troopers, Bug pummeled the man with his bare hands. Wounded and enraged Bug had killed the agent, crushing his skull to a pulp.

Oh no... John could see the lost look in Bug's glittering pink eyes. The mechanic was rushing to his friends side when movement became somewhat difficult.

John could feel Jasper's power pulling him to the agents that the Irish meta had just zapped. The useless gun that the trooper held was now charged with a good amount of Jasper's magnetic power, it pulled at John's metal limbs. The mechanic shifted on his feet, putting his large mech leg forward, there was a loud 'kuh-chung!' as John engaged the large heavy duty anchor spike in his foot. The spike pierced deep into the concrete holding the mechanic in one spot.

John had only just brought his head up from looking down at his leg when he noticed the RAID trooper flying at him. The man was helplessly holding his weapon out in front of him as he rode the wave of magnetism right into John's metal limbs.

There was an obnoxious 'clank' as the agent collided with John. The mechanic looked down at his side, the man hung there like a ragdoll, he was still clutching the rifle.

LET GO DUMBASS! John barked as he eyed the man. The agent was still trying to pull the trigger of the trashed weapon as he dangled from John's large metal hand. John shook his arm violently trying to separate from the agent.

I SAID LET GO! The mechanic was tired of scrapping with these men and wanted to see to Bug, John brought his other hand down onto the man's head. John continued to bash the man until he released the rifle and rolled onto the ground. John's knuckles were oozing blood as he pounded at the man's helmet. As the man slid to the street John made an effort to pull the magnetized weapon from his arm, he could not do so yet but he was able to work the weapon into his metal hand and swinging it like a bat he struck the prone agent.

The RAID goon went flying, spinning head over heels as he whizzed overhead crashing onto a sidewalk breaking many bones in the process. John released the spike in his leg and was free to move again, he walked quickly to where Bug was, the long haired hero's hands were slick with the dead man's blood.

John was still a few paces from Bug but he attempted to ease his friend's mind. John knew that things would be different now, Bug had never killed before it was surely a dark day.

Take it easy buddy, it's over now. John said to Bug as he walked closer. Bug was staring straight ahead with a look of pure regret.

He woulda done the same to you Bug... The mechanic said knowing that there would be little comfort in these words.

It's what they do Bug, they hunt and kill people like us. John knelt down next to Bug and put his hand on his shoulder.

We gotta keep moving buddy, there still plenty of a$$holes with guns around here.
John gave a gentle tug on Bug's arm in an attempt to get his friend to move.

Jasper foolishly had not accounted for the third RAID agent and left himself prone. His feet had just touched down when the trooper laid into him with a full force rib cracking kick catching him just below the sternum. It was a paralyzing blow and as the man's heel dug into his chest, Jasper's vision tunneled and he flew helplessly backward like a rag doll, glancing off of a nearby wall and landing on the pavement in a crumpled heap.

The sound of his aluminum cane tumbling along the street reverberated in his ears as Jasper choked for air. Through his sandy mop of hair spilling before his eyes, he could see the agent mercilessly descending upon him with v-baton in hand and the young Irishman could only feebly raise his arm to protect himself from the first strike. A strike that never descended as the quick little man appeared behind the agent, followed by the sickening sound of snapping bones.

Clutching his chest while struggling to catch his breath, Jasper could only watch the brutal slaying of the RAID enforcer that occurred right before his eyes. He had witnessed such violent acts on the streets of Dublin before but it was something that he had never gotten used to and as a spray of blood wet his face he finally tore his eyes from the scene and looked away. Anger, rage even a sense of duty could release the beast in any man, Jasper had learned that much, but when a man wiped away the brain of a fallen foe with apathy, there was no more humanity left in them which was why Jasper was relieved to see remorse in the strange rosy eyes of his savior. How horrible what RAID had reduced them to and forced them to become and it had never been more apparent to the young man than in that moment why he remained in the shadows.

By the time the big man came over, Jasper's breath was returning and he was able to pull himself to a knee. He coughed hoarsely a few times as he placed his hat back on his head with his left hand and outstretched his right toward his cane, which bobbled and bounced along the pavement, pulled to it by an unseen force.

"Thank you. That'd be me right now if ya hadn't a stepped in. I'm in yer debt." He said to the odd looking man while gesturing to the dead RAID agent. Then seeing how distraught the man was for what he done added, "Dun wallow over that piece o'shit, lad. He forced your hand and couldn't back it up. St. Peter's probably tellin' him he was damn fool right now, if'n the bastard's not roastin' in hell."

Jasper then forced himself to his feet and responded to the large man. "I'm with ya. Lead the way."

John was still huffing and puffing when he turned to address Jasper.

You alright?. The big man asked.

You put yourself in the middle of this scrap, ya didn't have to, I appreciate it.

The mechanic went to put his cigar in his mouth only to discover that he had crushed it in the fighting, it hung limp and broken from his bloody left hand.

Son of a bitch! He grunted as he tossed it aside. He held his bruised hand out towards Jasper.

I'm John, John McManus.

'Didn't have to jump into the scrap...', Jasper would have never considered it and he cursed O'Mally for being right. The crime fighter had seen a lot in his eighty some years, or however old he was. Despite the guys aged, liver spotted skin, he still had somewhat of a build on him so it was hard to tell.

Surveying the causalities strewn about them, Jasper had a sense that it was all meant to be, as if his past had finally caught up with him in America. 'Only a matter of time', he figured and felt it was just as well that he teamed up with a pack when he appeared on RAID's radar.

He tucked his hand into McManus' giant mit, a wry smile forming on his pale face.

"A 'mick', eh? Well no one's perfect." He quipped at the big wrestler's heritage. Jasper had always felt one couldn't get much lower than a stinkin' gypsy Irishman from the slums and so always felt a little humour was entitled to him.

"The name's Jasper Flash, but back in Dublin the authorities started callin' me Ampere." The young man introduced, while noting the rough and calloused texture of the powerful hand that enveloped his. "I was hopin' 'Joy Buzzer' would'a stuck, but what can you do?"

Jasper then stood back and tipped his hat down slightly in greeting to the other two fighters. He'd never seen, meta's like them before, if in fact that's what they even were. He was beginning to have his doubts.

Bug felt the hand of his friend gently tugging on his arm and he turned to look at John. He nodded somberly and then looked back at the mush of what was once a head. He cleaned his hands off on the man’s uniform and then looking down he unclipped the man’s badge and stuck it in the pocket of his jeans as he stood up.

Bug’s shirt was absolutely shredded and he looked down at it with distain. Scanning the area he saw a smaller, though not as small as himself, RAID agent attempting to crawl out of the wreckage. Bug walked over, flipped him over and popped his helmet off. The man looked up, sheer terror in his eyes and he spoke with a shaky voice.

“Please… please don’t kill me. I have a family! Please!! I was just doing my job!”

Bug looked at the man, his soft pink eyes pulsing gently with his alien heartbeat. He grabbed the man by the scruff of the collar and brought him up so his mouth was next to the man’s ear. He started to whisper and the man’s face went quiet as he listened. After about 40 seconds he nodded as Bug pulled away and looked the man in the eye. Bug unclasped the man’s coat and slipped it off him gently, putting it on himself. Reaching down he unclipped the man’s badge and handed it to him, nodding silently. He turned to John and the others and only said two words in his strange, tinny accent.

“Let’s go.”

Bug barely looked at the newcomer, he wasn’t one for strangers. Even though this fellow had jumped into the fray and turned the balance way into their favor Bug would need considerable time before he would just welcome the man into their fold as quickly as John would. Bug knew this about John, and it never bothered him, it was just one of the ways that he and his mechanic friend were different.

Bug tapped John on his shoulder and pointed to a classic 1967 white Cadillac inside a mechanics garage across the street. He turned and looked at his old friend, a slight hint of a smile on his face. He knew John had a soft spot for classic Caddies, and if anyone could boost a car and drive them out of here, it was John. Bug himself hated cars, however given the situation and the faint sound of sirens in the distance he knew he had little choice in the matter of their escaping as quickly as possible.

John looked at the car parked in a fenced in area across the street, out in front of the garage was a White 1967 Cadillac Deville. John walked quickly to the gate of the tall chain link security fence that surrounded the garage. It was 8 feet high and topped with razor wire, the gate was padlocked with a large chunky masterlock. John palmed the padlock in his mech hand, he closed his fist around the device and it quickly fell apart, small metal pieces and tumblers fell to the ground.

John threw the gate open and walked inside to the car. He tried the door, of course it was locked.

Lord forgive me... The mechanic mumbled as he smashed out the driver side window and quickly opened the door. John slid behind the driver's seat and in a few short seconds had the car started, he put it in gear and drove out of the lot to where Bug Gabriel and Jasper where waiting.

The sounds of police sirens were getting louder as John put the soft top down on the old car. He did this out of respect for Bug, who could not abide traveling by automobile and John thought that having the top down might make the trip more tolerable for his friend.

More idiot cops'll be here any second fellas and this sweet thing has a full tank of gas. It'd be a shame if we didn't at least take her for a spin....

John sat behind the wheel of the old car grinning from ear to ear, he shot Jasper a serious look.

There's plenty of room Irish, choice is yours...

John looked down the street, flashing red and blue lights were coming close to the intersection, just across from the classic car shop.

Come on Bug, Gabe let's roll!...

John revved the engine loudly as his friends approached the car.

Jasper had kept his distance, debating whether or not to join up with the tight knit group of fugitives. For most part his life had been pretty normal since he came to America, of course now that was all going to change. He knew there was no going back the moment he assaulted a RAID officer, but it wasn't until he stood at the start of yet another endless road of running did it sink in.

McMannus' voice rumbled in harmony with the big block engine as he extended an invitation and as the flashing red's and blue's began to light up the battle scene, Jasper made up his mind right then and there. Straddling the door he landed in the back seat of the Caddy and tipped his hat to the 'mechanical' man.

Bug could see the look in his old friends eyes, John would hold onto this Cadillac for as long as possible. Bug nodded gently as the top dropped and jumped into the backseat. He was never much for cars, the feeling of moving so fast was nothing foreign to him, he could propel his body as fast as a car with no problems, but the feeling of sitting still while moving so fast combined with the rumble of the engine and the bumps in the road, it was something Bug had never gotten used to.

As John revved the engine Bug closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He could hear the sirens getting close and was prepared if necessary to respond should they need to, however given the events of the night he was hopping that they could just drive out of here, and put as much distance as possible between themselves and Chicago.

The man wasn't cracking. Gabriel scowled and let that glowing blade puff out in another burst of smoke. He kept the RAID agent pinned with his elbow, and used his now free hand to knock the man's helmet off. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at the agent, speaking through gritted teeth.

"Know that any one of us could have made your remaining life a living hell... but, we didn't. Now... Back off."

He gave the man a shove to the chest as he rose to his feet, slowly taking a few steps backward, before sprinting over to where John, Bug and Jasper had the car waiting. Gabriel then extended those glowing wings and lofted upward a bit, flapping his wings to stay about 5 feet off the ground as he addressed the trio.

"Get moving, I'll follow from the air and run interference if I have to!"

John watched as Gabriel eyed the RAID agent, a look of true fear was on the man's face. Gabriel let the man go, he slid to the ground, his mouth hanging open.

John drove the Caddy to Gabe, Bug and jasper were already seated.

Suit yerself flyboy, jest be careful. John watched the winged hero take to the air with ease, anyone watching the skies on the southside of Chicago tonight would have some story to tell.

John turned to Jasper and Bug,
Time to go boys...
The mechanic dropped the pedal and the long old car flew down a side road, a few manic turns later John had left the scene of the fight and could not see any of Chicago's finest following.

Gabriel had a good wide view as he hovered above his friends, the cops had stopped at the intersection and were tending to the wounded RAID men. Ambulances and a large fire engine were arriving as well they pulled up next to the wrecked vehicles and began to treat the wounded and put the small fires out. Gabriels glowing eyes scanned the twilight Chicago skyline, in the distance the winged hero could see lights in the sky. Gabriel squinted in the fading light , yes there were lights, two military style fighter helicopters were approaching. The two airships were a half mile away, they were black in color and had very subtle identifiable markings. Gabriel hovered a second longer, now he could make out the markings : R.A.I.D. That was all, printed in white on the tails of the black helicopters.

The pilots saw the light that was Gabe, they made adjustments and set a course straight for the flying man.

Jasper was glad to get away from the scene of the crime and though he seemed calm on the outside his heart was still pounding out of his chest. He wasn't used to tangling with R.A.I.D. and they were a hell of a lot better trained than a typical cop and ten times as tenacious which was why he couldn't help looking over his should every few minute, expecting to see a fleet of black vehicles pursuing them.

Sitting in the middle of the massive back seat, Jasper leaned back and looked up into the night sky to occupy his mind. He watched the winged man, floating high above them like a neon-guardian-angel, drifting through the air. Too high for him he considered and besides it was far less of a strain to lounge in the back of a cadillac.

Glancing over to the passenger seat, Jasper couldn't help staring at the strange little man whose hair definitely wasn't hair, but appeared to be thick black cords that could move like appendages! Freaky and kind of creepy, he considered and now that he had a chance to get a good look at the man also noticed that his skin had a sheen to it, as if it were hard. It was also quite apparent that he wasn't enjoying the ride, of course he could have misread the guy's body language which he found a little alien.

The old Cadillac hummed as John kept the accelerator down, the mechanic blasted down side streets, rocketing past lazy traffic and yuppies on their cell phones. The big man seemed at ease behind the wheel, he held on to the steering wheel with one hand. He clicked the radio on, a Bruce Springsteen song came blasting through the old mono speakers.

Man that's a good old song! The mechanic yelped over the sound of the caddy's roaring engine. The mechanic flipped open the glove compartment, inside was a pack of cheap cigars.

The big man opened the pack and took one out and began chomping on it.
This is turning out to be a better day than I thought guys...

As 'Born to run' played loudly in the car John began to think of a good place for he and his friends to lie low, a place where they would be safe and off of RAID's radar, at least for a while.

John held the opened pack of cigars over his shoulder.
Fancy a smoke Irish?

John winked at Bug.
How about you buddy?
John knew Bug would decline but he offered anyway.

John cranked his neck around looking for a sign of Gabriel. John could no longer see the flying man in the crowded Chicago skyline, but he hoped his friend was close.

Jasper just smiled at the American as he delighted in old classic. The 'Boss' the yanks called him, not exactly his cup of tea, but the energy of the music was in keeping with the nights events.

When the big man presented the cigars, Jasper gladly took one. "Why thank-ya, John." he mentioned then leaned forward over the seat when he offered a light.

"Slaan-cheh", he said in the old tongue between puffs, then quickly translated, "Cheers, mate."

Looking back up into the night sky he could no longer see the winged man. He'd be alright, he convinced himself, then scanned the city streets trying to figure out where they were headed. Jasper hadn't been in the city long enough to find his way about easily, especially at night, but McManus seemed to know where he was going.

John kept the pedal down as he drove to a more industrial part of town, abandoned factory buildings and warehouses passed by as they drove. John drove into a large building, the large garage bay door was missing making it easy to pull the white Cadillac inside and out of sight.

John drove a little deeper into the large building and finally stopped the car.

The mechanic stepped out of the car, it's shock absorbers groaned as the weight of the big man lifted from the old car.

"Jasper, this is one of many places me and bug used to hide out at times, it ain't much but it keeps the rain off yer head..."
John walked around the open area, he pulled a few old milk crates together for seats. For himself John dragged a crushed steel drum over, a milk crate just wasn't gonna do it for the mechanic.

"I figure we oughta keep outta sight for at least a few hours, RAID will be everywhere looking for us, they won't give it up this time...especially with what happened with Bug and all."

John looked tired as he lit his cigar again.

"This is a good spot to hide out, if the Feds find this place there is a system of underground tunnels that lead to the riverside from here. Those mutts won't get the drop on us again, I ain't gonna let them lock me up again. You know, this last time was the third time they snatched me up? They arrested me back home in Jersey for the first time 6 years ago, then after the Riggs act and then last month. I'll be damned if I go with them again..."

John let this thought trail off, after a moment he spoke to Jasper.

"You ever tangled with RAID before Irish?"

Jasper straddled the crate set out for him with an exuberance that only youth could provide. He pulled out a flashy lighter and re-lit what remained of the cigar, took a long pull then leaned back, crossing on leg over the other as if he were relaxing in some high class lounge. He agreed with the plan. Best to lay low a while and throw the dogs of the scent, he knew the drill well.

"Never crossed RAID before." Jasper admitted, "Always figured it best to keep me wee arse outta there business. Back home they are far and few between, y'know? Usually dealt with common coppers. America, however, is grand on every level and RAID is the peacock. Seems they wanna show somethin' to the world and unfortunately the world is sittin' back and watchin' the example they set. If they kill off the remaining few us, other countries will follow suit. It will be a blood bath."

Jasper took another drag on the cigar and let out a long trail of blue smoke into the air as he scanned the ceiling then the rest of the warehouse. "This is a nice place you got here. I've done me time in such, but when it comes to prison I've never done any time. Lucky I guess." he mentioned then smiled, "But you're probably wonderin' why I'd come to the land of RAID, eh? It's a long and complicated story, but the short version is I over stayed me welcome in Dublin and the land lord has a long reach." he explained, then raised his arms out, "So 'ere I am."

The Irish meta, snapped his fingers and small electrical display flashed momentarily. "The police named me Ampere and it just caught on, but those from the street know me as Joy Buzzer. Back in the day, that was the extent of me ability, but then things changed. I became stronger and life became more complicated."

"Like I said Jasper, me an' Bug have used this hideout before, in the past other Metas have crashed here too, we have told a small number of 'em about this place. I don't turn any of our kind away if they need a hand up, I ain't no saint or anything but they are welcome to crash with us at this dump if they want."

John gathered up some odds and end to make a small fire in the drafty warehouse. The big man also went and grabbed some canned goods from a hidden stash place.

"It looks like beans and franks fer supper Jasper..." John smiled as he squeezed the cans open with his mech hand.

After a few minutes the small fire was going strong and the feast was warming on it.

"You got any family back home Irish? Ma or Pop or anything like that?"

John poked at the fire with a piece of scrap rebar he had scrounged up.

Jasper happily accepted a tin plate and cutlery from the big 'meta'. It didn't take long for the hobo's fare to warm and when John gestured for him to dig in the Irishman was quick to do so. He was famished. Using his electrical abilities took a heavy toll on his batteries — literally.

"Me parents were killed when as a boy." he answered as he chewed down a mouthful of beans and slice of banger and automatically, whether or not John showed sympathy he was quick to add, "I do not remember it, anyway, I'm no different than the other fifty thousand or so, Irish bastards. Casualties of violence, raised by the system, bla, bla, bla... You know how it goes? Been on the streets since I was twelve after I lit me drunk foster father up like christmas tree. I had warned him but I didn'a plan on it happenin', the wanker backed me up near an outlet and well, it was the last time he ever hit me, if'n ya can picture it."

Jasper told the story of killing his step father as one recapped the highlights of the work week. There was no remorse, there were no deep seeded regrets, just a memory.

"Damn fine meal, John!" Jasper complimented as he continued to chow down, he then looked across the flickering fire at the big man. So large and imposing was his frame that it turned the rustic scene medieval; the powerful warrior resting after the battle.

"Ya got any family, John?" he asked, probing the the large man's impassive features, "Were ye born here?"

John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand to answer Jasper's question.

"Nah, not me Irish I got no family left. My pop died more than ten years ago of a bad ticker and my mother died a year later. I think she did not want to go on without him...anyway it's just me."

John shoveled more of the beans and franks in his mouth.

"I don't have my folks around anymore but I got good friends, you know people like us. Me and Bug been raising hell off and on for years. You're gonna laugh but I used to work for the government. I met a lot of good people when I worked for Uncle Sam, names you might recognize like Cowboy, Babyface, Chameleon, Di Vine, Shaman and a lot of other 'heroes'. Some of them are locked up, some are on the run, and a few are dead..."

John chewed his dinner, his eyes were fixed o the small fire.

Jasper leaned forward to stretch his back out and placed his empty dish on the ground. When he heard that John used to work for the government, he indeed laugh but only because he just couldn't see him taking orders from any of those stiff pencil necks.

"The government, really, you?" Commented Jasper with a shake of his head, "Must'a been back when the agencies actually gave a shit about the world."

When John mentioned the other meta's he only recognized a few of the names. "I've ne'er heard of this Cowboy before but there's been a guy called the Wrangler stirring up trouble from here ta New York. Maybe they're related. I've also come across a few stories about Chameleon, but I've never met her, probably wouldn'a know 'er even if I saw her, since she's able to look like anyone she wants ta anyhow."

Jasper drew his coat closed. The night air had a bit of chill and it was more noticeable with a full belly. Reaching out his hands to warm them before the fire, the young fugitive wondered what the next move would be. John seemed pretty rugged, hell if one looked up the word you'd probably find his picture beside it, he figured. There was definitely no question about where he'd sleep, which Jasper figured was, where ever the hell he wanted, still he had a bed waiting for him and a safe one.

"I know we're shakin' the wolves off of our tails and all." mentioned the Irishman, "But, I've got a place South Side, in the Back o' the Yards. Mind ya, it's a few streets over from Hell and next door to Death but I guarantee ya that no pig, be they blue or black like RAID are goin' ta find it. If'n ya dun gotta place to put yer head down for a spell, you're welcome to it, that is if ya feel its safe and all. I've never messed with RAID before, so I could be talkin' out me arse."

The night air had grown crisp and downright biting, stinging Fyedka Romanov's pale arms with the slightest breeze. Hugging his arms close to his body, he rubbed them vigorously and tried to ignore the painful stabs of hunger as his stomach seemed determined to digest his spine. Breathing deeply, Fyedka let out a sigh in a puff of white steam that floated out in front of him along a heavier breeze that wrapped his jet black ponytail around his neck and blew the stray locks into his face. Squeezing his jade-colored eyes shut, he stumbled blindly into the warehouse district, letting himself run straight into a wall.

When the wind passed, he opened them again and stood straight glanced around, pushing the black fly-aways from his face. All around him, the air seemed to ting against the aluminum siding of the endless rows of warehouses faintly glowing in the light. Normally the view would have been inviting, but to Fyedka it felt like a dead end, like a sad confirmation that he would be going yet another day without managing to glean any food. It was as though he had exhausted the city. He'd only barely managed to escape from the cops earlier that day for trying to steal from a Dumpster behind a restaurant in an alley that was apparently empty save for himself and the cop. The lunatic with the shotgun hidden behind the counter at the convenience store had been enough to chase Fyedka away from that entire neighborhood for at least that month if he had anything to say about it. He'd never realized a package of crackers could be considered such contraband.

Shivering and trying hard to keep his teeth from chattering, Fyedka turned his head away from a light rush of cold wind and did his best to pretend he had a thick sweater on instead of a threadbare t-shirt. The wind seemed to be penetrate every pinhole that might have been in his shirt, rushing up the sleeves and inflating his pants through the holes where his knees were completely exposed. At the same time, his eyes darted around at the warehouses, looking for the one with an open door or a cracked entry, or even an opened or broken window. As he walked, a hacking cough shook him, echoing over the warehouses and making him freeze like a rat caught in the open. He listened intently for any sign of movement indicating anything bigger than a leaf. When the area remained silent, he sighed in relief and continued on, turning down another row and walking along side of buildings, keeping himself away from the cold aura that always seemed to radiate from metal.

Suddenly, the scent of food hit him like a brick. Stopping abruptly, Fyedka's eyes went wide and he sniffed the air, as though unsure if he were really detecting anything or if he were simply hallucinating. He was too far from any restaurant that would be open and there certainly weren't any houses nearby with pies cooking on open windowsills. There was no doubt about it, though. Someone was cooking and from the smell of it, they were only a little better off than himself. Taking in the scent, Fyedka's stomach whined and snarled, suddenly feeling as though it was being stabbed with so many pins and gone flat. The sudden realization of how hungry he really was seemed to drag him down and he almost fell over trying to remember the last time he'd eaten anything bigger than a free sample of a bread crust from a sandwich store.

Moving cautiously towards it, Fyedka followed the scent with silent footsteps. As the smell became stronger, so did the sound of voices, at least two. A gruff sounding one grumbled out into the air followed by a much younger one that sounded a little too upbeat considering circumstances. Creeping into the shadows, Fyedka flattened himself against another warehouse and peeked around the side. Directly across from him sat an enormous man with a set of very off-putting prosthetics on his hand and leg. With him a smaller, younger looking one, and a little weirdo with the wildest dreadlocks Fyedka had ever seen. None of them looked to Fyedka as though they had been on the streets very long, save for maybe the one with the dreadlocks who looked more like he recently escaped from somewhere. While the younger one seemed friendly enough, the other two were enough to keep Fyedka at a distance. He watched cautiously, carefully considering if he should approach them while gazing longingly at the fire between them.

"I'm up fer anything Jasper, I thought Gabriel would have caught up with us by now but maybe he ran into..."

The mechanic stopped short, he coulda sworn he saw someone walking just beyond the small fire, someone who moved as quiet as a cat.

John watched the shadows just beyond their makeshift dining area.

"Jasper, did you just see?..."

John's instincts told him it was probably one of the many homeless people that lived in the surrounding buildings. A small part of him hoped that it was Gabriel returning from flying the unfriendly skies.

"Come on out, I saw you, come on out or I'll come and get ya."

John looked to the canned food that was warming near the fire.

"We got food to share, why don't you come and have some..."

John took a step towards where he had seen movement in the long shadows of the old warehouse, the motors in his leg clicked and whined as he moved, the sound echoed loudly throughout building.

Jasper did not move, but John noticed that his hand was now resting on his cane and the mechanic could here that familiar hum of electricity as he channeled power into it. He was ready to provide a ranged attack if necessary, but the big man quickly assessed that what ever was moving out there in the shadows wasn't RAID.

The Irishman looked over his shoulder. From under the brim of his hat he peered into the darkness searching for their mysterious guest, but could see nothing.

"I'd be listenin' to me large friend." Jasper shouted in his heavy Irish accent, "We're in no mood fer hide n' seek, com'on out and introduce yerself."

Jasper kept his eyes and the cybernetic mechanic scanning the dark corners that would conceal a man.