An instant later, Amy was beside him, her hands wrapping gently around his arm.
"Ryan. Please."
Her touch broke the spell, and he came back to himself. Shaken, he let his arms fall limply to dangle at his sides.
"What was that all about?" she asked quietly.
"First guy had a gun," he muttered. "Needed to protect my team."
"Hold on." She patted his arm before releasing him. Ryan wasn't sure if the gesture had been intended to calm him down, or to reassure the others that he was now back under control. "I'll go get it."
"Assaulting a police officer is already a felony, buster. Doing it with a deadly weapon..." Allowing the statement to trail off, she squatted down, placing herself face-level with the tall, skinny punk he'd indicated. "If you've really got a gun, I suggest you hand it over. I'll give it back on my way out."
Aware that the danger had yet to pass, Ryan tensed up again, ready to react if the fallen, dazed man did something stupid.
"Keith, give her the fucking gun already," Charlie yelled around a split lip that made him slur his words. "You trying to get yourself sent upstate for twenty-five to life?"
Grudgingly, moving as slowly as he dared, Keith complied. He placed the gun on the sidewalk, careful to keep the barrel pointed at himself, and then awkwardly pushed it towards Amy, who picked it up.
It was a classic Saturday night special: a nickel-plated, snub-nosed, crappy little .22 revolver.
The sight was so stereotypical that it nearly drew an inappropriate laugh out of him. A moment later, the feeling had passed, and he gave the gun another, harder look. You're not an Enforcer anymore, Ryan. You don't have a War-Form that can shrug off bullets. Even a crappy little .22 is enough to poke holes in us regular old humans.
"I trust you kept the transfer paperwork for this?" Amy asked, looking from Keith to Charlie.
Neither man met her eye.
Letting yourself get killed by some dipshit with a stolen peashooter after making it this far... man, that would be an embarrassing way to die.
"Come on," she said to Ryan, pushing open the door and waving for him to follow.
All eyes within were watching them as they entered. Apparently they'd made enough of a commotion outside to be heard over the blaring old-school jukebox shoved into the far corner.
The main floor of the bar was exactly as advertised: a seedy-looking pool hall that reeked of spilled beer, and of too many sweaty bodies packed into a confined space. With every step, Ryan could feel the tacky floor clinging to the plastic soles of his flip-flops. Grimacing, he resolved not to think too hard about what he might be walking through.
There were a lot of people in the room, he noted, and most of them could pass for brothers of the bikers they'd just finished dealing with. Some were giving him the sort of long, sizing-up looks that tended to precede a fight. Those glares he met evenly, matching them until they turned away.
Even so, he marked them as potential threats on his area map when they passed.
Just in case.
Several tables to one side were occupied by overdressed college-aged kids with the wide-eyed stares of boys and girls who'd come to the dangerous part of town in search of a cheap thrill. His eyes swept over the group, looking for Syd, but her figure wasn't among them.
No way I'd be able to miss that neon-blue hair, he thought. Where is she?
Ignoring the attention, Amy led them on a weaving path between the pool tables that were scattered haphazardly around the middle of the room. The patrons were careful to give them a wide berth.
As they passed, he heard someone drunkenly stage-whisper, "I think that guy does MMA. Didn't we see him in some pay-per-view last month?"
Ryan shook his head, knowing the truth of the matter. He might be capable of fighting, but he wasn't the team's fighter.
"They haven't seen you in your suit," he remarked to Amy.
She didn't give any sign that she'd heard him, although she did stand up a bit straighter.
Walking up to the bar, Amy waved to get the attention of the heavily-tattooed man on the other side.
"Evening, sergeant," the bartender said. His tone was casual, his expression laid-back, as if he was totally unaware of the fight that taken place outside. "What can I get for you? Happy hour just started, so beers are two for five –"
"No games, Barney. It's been a long day and I'm not in the mood." She put her palms flat on the stained wooden countertop and leaned forward. "Where's Syd?"
"Syd? Hmm..." Barney picked his teeth with a fingernail while pretending to consider the question. "Syd, Syd." He brushed off the finger, using his none-too-clean shirt as a rag, then shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, sergeant. No idea who that is. A friend of yours?"
Amy made a strangled noise of rage, and it was Ryan's turn to pull her back before she did anything ill-advised.
I think our good cop, bad cop routine still needs some work.
"Look," Ryan said reasonably, "you don't want us here, and we don't want to be here. What's the point of dragging this out? We know she's in here... somewhere..."
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He paused, considering, then consulted his map.
Shit.
"Change of plans," he said, pulling Amy away from the bar. "She isn't in the building anymore."
"What?" Amy had to jog to keep up with his wider stride. "Where did she go?"
"Back parking lot, and moving away from us. I don't know why she left, but we've got to hurry if we want to catch her."
Almost at a run, Ryan and Amy burst through the back doors together.
At the other end of the dimly-lit parking lot, Syd's petite silhouette could just barely be distinguished from the surrounding shadows. Tall figures stood on either side of her, hands roughly grasping her by the shoulders and wrists. She kicked and swore ferociously as they attempted to manhandle her into the open sliding door of a nearby white panel van.
Despite their differing complexions, one as sallow as the other was dark-skinned, the two men looked like they'd been assembled by the same factory. Both had matching crew cuts, blocky features, and broad shoulders that strained the jackets of their identical, cheap black suits.
To anybody who hadn't taken down a fifteen-foot-tall monster gorilla a few hours earlier, they'd probably have looked pretty intimidating.
"Stop! Police!" Amy's shouted command startled the would-be kidnappers. Two pairs of eyes snapped up to meet the stubby barrel of her borrowed revolver. She'd fished her badge out from under her hoodie as she approached, allowing it to dangle from around her neck, and it glinted under the flickering yellow lights. "Get away from her, you creeps!"
The men froze, which allowed Syd to squirm out of their grip. Still cursing up a storm, the troublesome girl darted behind Amy. She was wearing the stolen Changer around her neck like it was some kind of fashion accessory, Ryan noted with annoyance.
If I wasn't standing in her way, I bet she'd have taken off running again.
"Hands where I can see them!"
Complying with the demand, both goons turned cautiously to face the policewoman, arms raised, open palms displayed to show they were empty.
"Take it easy, officer. I'm Special Agent Steinbach, NSA." The speaker indicated his companion with a jerk of his chin. "This is Special Agent Clark. I'm going to show you my ID, okay?"
Amy nodded warily, keeping the revolver trained on the suspicious pair. Making slow, deliberate movements, the man carefully drew a wallet-like leather holder from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, then flipped it open to reveal the gold badge within. Embossed over the center were the words NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY.
Whoa, Ryan thought. Just like on TV.
"Now stand aside. That girl is wanted for questioning in connection with an ongoing federal investigation –" Steinbach began.
"There's no number on your badge," Amy interrupted, her tone skeptical. She still hadn't lowered the gun. "What directorate are you with?"
"That's classified," Steinbach said.
"We don't have time to play twenty questions with you, officer," Clark added testily. "Put the gun away, unless you want to catch an obstruction of justice charge."
From behind Amy, a blinding white glare suddenly illuminated the scene. Syd, her back turned to the confrontation, had pulled out her cell phone and started recording. Harshly lit by the camera flash, her grinning face was displayed in the middle of the screen. Over her shoulder the two goons could be seen, standing transfixed like deer caught in a car's headlights.
"Hey hey, what's happening people? Sorry the stream started a little late, but Tuesday night ranked ladder is canceled, because..." She paused dramatically, panning the camera around in a half-circle. "...check it out, I'm being kidnapped by the secret police!"
The two men hesitated, exchanging an exasperated look.
"This is getting out of hand," Clark said. "We're supposed to be keeping a low profile here."
"That's why the department has lawyers and a press office," Steinbach responded. "Once we've got her in custody, they can make all this go away."
"But she's taking our pictures!"
"You're on livestream, actually," Syd noted smugly. "Say hi to the government agents, chat!"
"Turn that off right now!" Clark yelled.
"Or what, you'll arrest me?" She paused as her phone made a cash-register noise. "Ooh, thanks for the treasure chest, BigButt33! No, I swear, this isn't a prank, these guys said they're with the CIA or something."
"Alright, that's it –" The goon took a threatening step forward, only to be brought up short by the revolver jabbing into his sternum.
"Hey, wait a minute." Steinbach grabbed his partner by the arm, his body language suddenly tense. He pointed at Amy's waist, where her hoodie had ridden up enough to reveal the metallic belt she was wearing. "She's got one too. Look!"
Clark's eyes widened. "I'll be damned. Okay, lady, you're coming with us."
"Like hell she is," Ryan growled.
Up to that point he'd tried to avoid inserting himself into the already-messy situation, but enough was enough. Apparently more used to towering over others than being towered over themselves, both agents flinched back when he made his presence known.
Behind him, the glaring white light flicked off. A moment later came the sound of boots slapping on pavement, rapidly receding in the direction they'd come from.
Ah, dammit.
Left to her own devices, Amy's friend had pulled a runner.
Again.
Ryan gave the pair of agents a long-suffering look, which they returned. Before the situation could escalate any further, though, he held up a hand.
"Hold on," he said. "Something isn't right here."
A moment later, he realized what it was that had caught his attention. It was a cloudy, moonless night. Until Syd had switched her phone's camera on, he'd barely been able to see what was in front of his face...
...but now, the whole parking lot was bathed in a brilliant, wavering aquamarine glow.
He turned his head in the direction of the light, already knowing what he'd find. The others did the same a moment later.
CAUTION: Proximity alert! New contact approaching.
Classification of new contact is [Change Matrix].
The ominous message repeated as the distant tear in space disgorged one figure after another.
"That's a fucking portal!" Steinbach exclaimed, apparently having forgotten all about the policewoman who was still technically holding him at gunpoint. "Call in the backup teams, and get central on the line!"
"Let them go," Ryan said to Amy, starting at the entrance of the dark alley they'd last seen Syd running into. "We've got bigger problems."
Nodding, Amy lowered her gun. The two federal agents immediately bolted, sprinting towards their unmarked van and yelling to one another about containment protocols and staging perimeter boundaries.
His instincts screamed at him, warning that there would be dire consequences if he left armed potential hostiles alive behind him. With an effort, he pushed the deep-seated fears aside. This was real life, he reminded himself firmly, not some cruel Zorvax training exercise. They were human beings.
And, strange as it might have seemed just a minute ago, they were now apparently on the same side.
Shaking his head in bemusement, he pulled up his map, and then took off after Syd.
The girl had a lot of explaining to do.