The members of the Tool Shed rolled down 360 as a casual convoy. Cal's HMMV trailed Honey's Price-driven coupe in the late evening traffic, which was fairly heavy. They blended in with their fellow Texans and as they did so, perhaps had a thought or two about the people they had been enlisted to serve and protect.

The Alamo was still twenty minutes away when Benjamin Franklin, the team's handler, called into both vehicles simultaneously. His image appeared on the screen installed into the console dash of the two cars.

**Good evening,** he started, as if it was a social call and they hadn't just pulled off their first mission. **You'll be happy to know the Alamo's communications encryption is finally up and running, so we can have this chat. Status please?**

**Evenin' boss,** Cal chuckled. **Nice night for party. Bring on the surprise package. We'll be back at the barn in about 20 minutes.**

**Ah adore surprises. Well, the nice ones anyway,** Honey chirped from the coupe. **Price got the goods from the locker, slicker 'n cat shit on linoleum, as my crazy grandmama would say. It sure would be nice to grab a shower before the debriefin' -- they got those workin' yet?**

"I couldn't have done it without the hottest distraction I've ever followed," Price said with a wink to Honey. "Wouldn't mind a nice glass of Macallan when we roll into the Alamo," Price then said to Ben. "Neat, please. Not on the rocks. Is Sidewinder behind you, Falcon?"

**If not, we're bein' followed by a one eyed car standing on two wheels.Check in Sidewinder.**

**Present and accounted for.** Danny said, **I'm going to race ahead of you guys and get showered and cleaned up; I think something's growin' on me.** He kicked the throttle on his bike and shot between the lanes of traffic; then over to the right-hand lane -- using the shoulder as his personal passing lane. **See you back at the barn.**

Mike considered commenting on the evening’s events but decided to refrain. He wasn’t planning on being overly critical, but mistakes had been made, and they could have potentially compromised the mission, if not gotten someone killed.

And Momma Hardaway’s little boy Mikey isn’t about to lose another team, he thought. Not if I can help it. He realized he was frowning and took a deep breath, trying to will away the anxiety he felt.

Let it go, Mikey, he thought. They ain’t them, and them ain’t they. He’d been hard on this new batch, probably unnecessarily so. They were a good bunch, all things considered. They just needed to work together more, trust each other a bit more. Sometimes it was tough to remember that this team had just been cobbled together. They weren’t a unit yet, not by a long shot, but they had a lot of potential.

So he scribbled on a pad, sketching out ideas for new gadgets, or how to make existing ones better, and kept one eye on the screens and one ear on the bands and his thoughts to himself.

**Hey, don't use up all the hot water before Ah get there!** Honey called out as Danny sped off ahead of them.

**Easy there Sidewinder,** Cal warned. **It ain't over till it's over. Stay with us, stay sharp, and scout our return route.** He'd lost count of the number of times he'd taught young `butter bars' the folly assuming victory in a fire fight too quickly. Patience was often the most powerful weapon in a commander's arsenal. So powerful it could make a hash out of a superior force in a great hurry. Unfortunately, it also required you to be wrong about ten times before you got to be right, and damned few people (especially civilians and politicians) understood that minor fact.

**Scouting -- got it.** Danny changed gears and shot forward about 100 meters leaving the traffic-bound Hummer behind. **If I see anything, I'll let you know.** There was a hint of a smile on his face as he felt the bike race faster. Cal was like an old woman, he worried too much -- 'years of experience' or whatever. He reminded him of his step-dad.

Back in the Alamo, sitting in a semi-comfortable swivel chair in the office adjacent to the garage - he'd have to discuss funding for some proper furniture - Benjamin Franklin watched and listened to the team banter on the monitors arrayed upon the surfaceof the old metal desk which came with the chair. He couldn't help feeling somewhat reborn, and yet somehow so simultaneously pained. The warm prideful sensations of a young team coming together and sharing success on their first mission only served to dredge up memories of a previous team. The comparisons were naturally occurring and yet the overwhelming guilt at having them didn't stay away.

A beep from the Arlington PD database link on his laptop drew his attention and as he expanded the relevant window he made yet another silent vow to himself and whatever gods bothered to listen to such things that he'd never let it happen again. The alert had to do with a scan on the address scrawled on the matchbook Price had found which he'd begun as soon as he'd read it from Price's camera feed.

Oh...that's not good...

Ben rose quickly and walked out to the garage where the communications equipment had been set up. He picked up one of the linked headsets, pressed the buttons for the connection to APD dispatch, and waited for the operator to pick up. And waited...

He looked behind the console and saw the mass of wires coming out of an opening where an access panel had been removed. Some of them had been tagged and labeled. There was a sticky note with the exhortation DON'T TOUCH!! scribbled on it.

Sonova...!

With no heed to his neatness, the large black man threw the headset onto the console and dashed back to the office.

Ben's urgent tone cut through the chatter on all vehicles. **Mission change, everyone. The address on the matchbook Yankee recovered is that of an Arlington PD safehouse- specifically, the safehouse where our friend's children are being held.**

The computer screens on all three vehicles lit up with a street map showing the location of each of them and a blip off to the west representing 4024 Melear Drive.

**Alamo connections to APD are down. I can get to them eventually but it will take time to get a response. Get yourselves there immediately, as in right now. Use all means required.**

Throughout all their training, Benjamin constantly harped on the need to always be aware of what he referred to as their legal profile. Accomplishing mission objectives was critical and primary, but most problems frequently had more than one solution, and whenever possible care should be taken to avoid collateral damage or things that attracted unwanted attention from law enforcement. If the team did their jobs correctly, nobody should know they were involved. It was a point he made continuously, always stressing the "whenever possible" exception and adding that judgment and temperament were key skills that they all had to work on all the time.

For the members of the Tool Shed, to hear Franklin utter that last phrase was to understand exactly how critical their speed had become in the eyes of their handler.

Mike cleared his throat as he stuffed his notepad under the seat and gave his full attention to the computer in front of him. He started typing, attempting to pull up any satellite or other surveillance photos of the area. He also worked to verify Ben’s assessment of radio contact. If there was a signal, he planned on finding it.

Price understood. Honey had to grab at the roof of her car as Price suddenly downshifted and let off the gas, cutting their speed in half as he approached the low overpass ahead. Reflexes honed in training kicked in. Weapons were made hot and Price saw one out of three red lights lit up on his panel.

Better than nothing, and just what I need.

A flick of his thumb on the toggle jutting out the side of the shifter blew out the narrow grill above the sports car's thin front bumper. It shattered, being made of cellulose composite, and he rolled over it without danger as a reticle lit up on the windshield. A thumb graze on the toggle and the reticle slid to the right until Price squeezed the button on the shifter aligned with his index finger twice.

Bingo.

>FWOOOSSH-FWOOOSSHHHHH<

A pair of rockets traced grey lines of smoke from the car to the overpass guardrail.

BA-BOOOOOM!!

They impacted nearly on top of each other and the explosion lit up the night for miles on the flat terrain. Price yanked the emergency brake and turned hard, sending the car into a sideways slide. Nerves already wound tight, Honey screamed in response, well-manicured nails clawing for purchase on the dashboard. Before the car stopped he released the brake and jammed on the accelerator. The Cougar's rear wheels spun dramatically before it shot forward towards the impact point and the newly-made hole in the safety barrier.

"Hold on," he told Honey through grim-set lips.

"Little late for that, ain't it?" She shrieked, face pale under the irregular streetlights.

Price tried to hide the enthusiasm he felt as he committed himself to the upcoming act, but it was of no use. His blood was on fire as he became one with the car. His feet and hands were extensions of the controls, and he was alive again.

It was a gamble, he knew. Mike did say he was going to rebuild the suspension before he got to the weapons. Right? Price's fingers tightened on the steering wheel as the Cougar left Highway 360 and leapt into the open air above Ronald Reagan Memorial Drive. He pulled the shifter out of gear and the engine revved in a scream as it flew, and fell towards the highway below.

"Goddammit Price! This ain't funn-YYYYYYY!"

Don't land on a car...don't land on a car... "No, but it sure if fuckin' hot, ain't it," he said aloud while they were in mid-air.

The impact tossed both he and Honey in their seats, banging both their heads on the roof. The car veered hard both righ and lef tand the traffic around him scattered, stopped, and skid to avoid him and each other. He managed to maintain his grip on the steering wheel and finally smirked as he realized his gamble had been a good one. No tires had blown and the car seemed okay. Price quickly shifted into third and the Cougar charged forward. In no time he had top gear and they were racing westward towards the safe house.

The stunt done, he suffered the adrenaline rush with some quick breaths. Turning towards Honey, a wild-eyed Price revealed, "I have always wanted to do that!"

"Jesus Fucking Christ! You are a mother fucking whacked-out NUTJOB!" His beautiful passenger was obviously unable to process that much adrenalin with mere air moving through her lungs. Her pupils were dilated so widely there was no iris at all and her hands were shaking as if they were in the midst of an earthquake. Most of it, Price knew, was just that she had been out of control of what had just happened. That kind of thing frightened Honey Rose more than the actual stunt itself ever would -- not that she ever could have pulled it off.

Price watched her chest heave as she tried to gain some sense of control. There was no way he could have prepped her for what he had done. There was no way he could have prepped anyone.

Back on the highway, Cal and Mike watched as the evening traffic on 360 turned into cockroaches with the lights coming on. The eastbound exit ramp was just past the overpass and they could take it and go off-road to get to the westbound side of but Price's stunt had saved him maybe a good minute and a half, if not more. It was nuts, but effective - kind of like Price.

Sidewinder was approaching the exit ramp already.

Shit! Danny thought, checking out the noise Price was making behind him. That guy's fuckin' nuts.

He hit his front brakes, kicking the back of the bike off the road as he slowed on one wheel. Once he had lowered his speed enough, he pivoted the bike and dropped the back wheel. Hitting the gas again, he shot down the exit ramp. Danny pressed the latch to open the concealed driver's compartment on the bike and checked to see that he could easily draw and clear his Glock machine-pistol.

**Order's Cal?** He asked, turning onto the surface streets.

Yeah. It ain't over till its over, Cal thought to himself. The enemy plays too, and just got us to waste an evening while he was setting up shop. Okay...

**Sidewinder, get there and give us the goods on the place. Stay low and don't get caught. Yankee: Back door. I'll play target.

**Bowie, calm down. I've seen worse.** He gunned it and roared up the exit ramp. "Mike, now you get to earn your pay," he grinned as Eagle jumped the curb and broke out into the dirt, the electric whining like a screaming cat. "Get me a tactical map of that place and get APD on the line for Bowie." Cal flipped all the weapons systems into standby mode as the HMMV tore across the open ground, bouncing and jolting like a spring loaded tank.

”Already on it, boss man,” Mike said, still tapping at the keys—those he could hit with the HumVee bouncing like it was.. “Almost there…just about…got it. Sending.” A quick keystroke combo later and the tactical map of the target address and immediate area was available to the team. “Still working on the Alamo link.”

**Here comes the goddamned cavalry,** Cal broadcast. **Weapons free, people, but everybody remember: This is a likely hostage situation. Mark your targets.**

Still visibly upset, Honey reached for her purse, her gun, and the spare clips in that order.

"Ah'm not exactly dressed for this, you know," she muttered, kicking her platform heels off and reaching for her cowboy boots in the back. "A fur coat and a thong don't qualify as tactical gear, last Ah heard."

"Goddamn that was hot," he said and she could see the fire within him was ablaze. "And so are you," he added as he looked at her in the thong and coat. The blood coursed through him as the adrenaline buildup continued.

Price confused her. He'd confused her since the first time she'd met him and nothing he'd done since had changed that. "Just drive the car," Honey advised him, hands shaking so badly she could barely get her boots on. "Ah swear Ah don't know how you can even think that way, after a stunt like that."

Except she did know, and couldn't possibly think about it just then. **Rezin, Falcon -- what's our ETA?**

**Sidewinder, Eagle Two, six minutes. Eagle one, nine minutes.** Franklin paused and continued. **Keep your eyes out for a black and tan Intimidator. We believe that's the vehicle which hit our friend's shop. Good hunting.**

**Right, Ca -- Eag -- Fal -- whatever.** Danny had never been all that good with names anyway. He sped his bike into the neighborhood and began looking for bad guys. He cut the speed as he approached the house.

Sidewinder and Eagle Two arrived within fifteen seconds of each other. The Cougar and the cycle sat adjacent at the streetcorner where the small, low ranch house sat. There were lights on inside and otherwise the scene seemed placid and ordinary.

**ETA two minutes, Eagle One,** Franklin reported.

After a moment's silence, a somewhat calmer Honey said, **Well, okay. You wanted us here, we're here. Now what? Do we grab the kids and run? Or do we set up an ambush for the other guys? What's our purpose here, Bowie?**

Danny took the moment to shrug off the nasty coat he had been wearing. He wished he had thrown a change of clothes into either the Hummer or Price's car. He looked over at Honey and decided that she was probably thinking the same thing. He wished he had some body armor or even his riding jacket; as it was, he was out here with nothing more than a nasty t-shirt and pair of rudely-worn work pants.

He looked over to Honey and he felt bad for her current state of (un)dress. "I'd offer you the shirt of my back, babe ... if it didn't smell like the sewer." He was kidding, but she could tell that his heart was in the right place. "If things get ugly, remember to keep some metal between you and the people shooting." He seemed less surly and back to his good-natured self. "That's a safety tip ... straight from Cal."

"Ah'll try to remember that," she replied drily, or the closest she could get to that considering her hands were still shaking a little in the aftermath. Action would help, but...

**If all clear, surveil until APD arrives. Then tail them to the alternate safehouse.** Franklin paused before asking, **Eagle Two, what is your weapons status?**

As Call and Mike rolled off the highway and onto 157 north, they spotted trouble ahead. Running west out of the Parks Mall complex, crossing 157, was the black and tan Intimidator. A deep purple Hotshot was right on it's tail as they moved through the intersection and towards Melear Drive. Cal noticed the turret on the station wagon's roof was tracking left and right, as if the operator was working it out prior to a fight. The long, luxury Hotshot looked like it was outfitted for the arena with flamethrowers mouted left, right, and center. Both were armored and both were running dark, with their lights out.

**Looks like incoming,** Cal said over the radio as he reached down and fired up the HMMV's weapons systems. **Black and tan Intimidator and a purple Hotshot., running dark. Eagle 2 you're gonna have to play blocker, keep e'm away from the damned house.. Sidewinder, you and I are gonna try to keep 'em confused and busy. Come in from the side and 'em right hit after me. If they choose to chase us, good. If they wanna get to the house, we make 'em pay. We want 'em stopped. I could care less about dead.**

"Kid, you got Bowie his damned APD link yet?" He was looking ahead as he talked. He needed the right place to pull this stunt off. A good impromptu deflated or barricaded position for the HMMV with enough running room that Danny could use the bike's speed to best advantage.

Mike spared a moment to offer a semblance of a scowl. “Who you callin’ kid, you old coot?” he said, not unkindly. He tapped a few more keys and sighed heavily. “I got nothin’,” he drawled. “Jammed, broken or just plain not payin’ attention.” He shrugged.

Honey looked over at Price and muted her mic. "We really just gonna sit here and wait for the apes to show up? That sucks as a plan, Price. Come up with a better one for me."

"I dunno, Honey," Price replied after he muted his mic as well. "You didn't seem to enjoy my last improv nearly as much as I did." He flashed her a quick grin and unmuted his mic. "Falcon, how bout we play a little catch me if you can with those two incoming?"

**You just read my mind, Yankee,** Cal grinned. **So be ready to move. But let's make sure they wanna play, first. Cuz if it was me, I'd make a run for the target and not be side tracked by the fire.**

Mike leaned back in the chair and turned to Cal. “You want me on the gun, chief, or maybe the wheel?” He shrugged with one shoulder. “Can’t have yer full attention on both, and I can do either one well enough.”

"You're gonna drive here in a minute," he replied. "But first, when I tell yah to, I want you to fire the rockets. Then things are gonna get interesting," he grinned at Mike. The old man's gray eyes were brighter than Mike had ever seen 'em. He was actually enjoying this. **Sidewinder. Update me. How far out are you?**

Mike gave a curt nod and turned in his chair to access the firing mechanisms for the rockets. This was one of the ‘several’ surprises Cal had alluded to when they first met, and while Mike had a good idea of the Hummer’s capabilities, he had yet to take a full inventory. He was very much looking forward to that day.

ooc: GM, can Price gauge these guys driving skills from what he is seeing so far?

ooc: Bump