Blake awoke slowly, groggy at first, not remembering where he was. Then it returned: he was at a motel. He instinctively reached his hand under his pillow, felt the cold metal of one of his beretta 92's, and was reassured. He had hoped never to use the gun, but being on the run puts an end to many ideals.
He sat up, collecting his thoughts. First things first. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. It wasn't really nessecary, he thought as the picture was coming on the screen, he was almost 99% sure he had given the police the slip at the last train station, but still... The picture cam eup, and he nearly choked in disbelief. His picture, dating backa bout a year ago, covered the screen.
"And in other news, Blake Thomas, wanted for two counts of homicide, is believed to be in the town of..." The rest was lost on Blake. They were on to him. A number flashed on the screen. Shit, anybody who had seen him last night would give him away. He put on his two holsters, loaded his guns, threw his trenchcoat over it all in the space of 3 seconds and threw open the door, only to find himself looking straight down the barrel of a rifle.

The rifle pointing at blake soon flew to the left along with the police officer who had been holding it. Seconds later another shot fired and the officers partner hit the ground. "Blake Thomas. Two counts of homicide. You know you're going to get it for these two as well." As the words finished echoing a mass of blackness fell down in front of Blake from on the awning he stood under. The sound of leather clacking on the cement shot out like a third gunshot and caused the birds to fly from the trees in which they sat, as if they knew who had just appeared. "I've been studying you Blake, and you've impressed me." The black mass spun to reveal a man just a bit taller than blake with shoulder length black hair. A very pale man who anyone who had read a newspaper in the last three months would recognize. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you but, my name is Kevin Heyman. Now what do you say we get out of here before they send more pigs?" The mysterious "Kevin" grinned smugly and pointed to a black trans am with his right thumb over his shoulder.

"...Heyman..." Blake said, dumbstruck. Of course he had heard of him, with a few exceptions, Kevin Heyman was the target of the biggest manhunt in the history of the state. Blake suddenly realized he was tensed, still prepared to perform a ju-jitsu move to disarm a gunman. That was obviously no longer nessecary. It seemed Heyman was obviously offering to help him, but before he accepted...
"... Just one thing, before we go, understand that the first murder was a mistake... and the second... well... it was him or me... Let's go. Now."

"Gotcha kid!" Heyman turned knowing that there was a good chance he was about to be shot in the head from behind. But Kevin was always ready to take a chance. He ran forward towards his car and jumped in without looking back to see if Blake was following him. "Oh and just to tell you, when I blew up half of central park, it was a mistake." He flashed a quick grin and started the car.

Blake couldn't help wondering if he was making a mistake. He was offering to stay in the company of a terrorist. but as the saying went, beggars couldn't be choosers. He got in the passenger seat of Kevin's car.
"I'm not joking, it was a freak accident that that man died... and he did attack me first." It was true. He had been in a bar, minding his own business when a drunken teen attacked him. He had done a single palm blow, meant to stop his attack, to the kid's chest. It did stop his attack, it also stopped his heart. The media told their own version of the tale, not nearly as sympathetic... as for the second man... it turned out that both of them were in a gang, a particularily vengeful gang, another reason he was running...
Blake sat back and sighed. His life was in this probably mad man's hands. but it was better than jail.

"Well Mr.Thomas, it looks like we're both in the same boat, or car as it were." Kevin lit up a ciggarette. "You don't mind if I smoke do you?" Before blake could answer Heyman answered for him. "Of course you don't. Well my friend I'd like to let you in on a little secret. If we're caught we're both dead men, so we need to get out of this country, into south America or Africa or something."

Will woke up in his fancy hotel bed, in his fancy hotel room. Yeah, hotels were his home, because the truth was, he wasn't able to have one. He was a con-man, on the run from most likley the FBI, and some mind-less cops who didn't really threaten him.

Slowly he walked downstairs, with his head held high, as it usually was. He took a quick breath when he spotted two men showing their FBI Id's to the hotel manager. Jogging back up the stairs, and into his room, he grabbed the essentials and packed them frantically. Suddenly, his spine became ice as he heard the words, "FBI, please open this door."
He gazed around, and kept silent. "Dammit.." He whispered as quit as possible. The thought of jumping out the window was lingering in his mind, but it was a sure death.
He put on a white "working" shirt over his other t-shirt. He quickley messed up his hair, and threw his suitcase out the window, directing it into the bushes on the sides of the hotel.
"Oh..coming!" He said, faking an accent. He quickley opened the door, smiling inocently.

The agent looked at him, "Are you William Ranburg?"

Will stared at the man for a second, then replyed, "No..I am Jeff Vilensio. I'm cleaning this room, I think the person here is out.."

"May we look around the room?"

"Yes sir, do whatever!" He said cautiously.

In a split second, Will was out of the hotel and getting into his car before the FBI agents realized he had left..

Blake sucked in a breath. He knew he was in deep... but now that he was with Heyman... yeah, he was dead if he got caught. On the plus side, Heyman wanted him around, at least for the moment. hopefully he wasn't under the impression that Blake was some criminal mastermind, because he wasn't. Oh well, whatever happens... happens. In the meantime, he remembered his inalienable rights of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness. He sure as hell was not going to give those up without a fight. He turned to Kevin.
"...Ok, i'm in, so what now?"

"What now? Now I'm going to round up a few elite members who are being hunted by the government and we're going to pull off the greatest heist in American history, at which point we're giong to take off to Africa with our cash and live our lives as we like." Kevin took the last puff of his smoke and tossed it out of the window just as he turned into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn. He watched as Will passed by in his car. "SHIT! I'm late. Motherfucker! Hold on pal!" Kevin spun the steering wheel of his Transam wildly making a sharp U turn. He rolled down the windows of "Ther relic" as he called it and stuck his head out the window. "WILLIAM! WILLIAM RANBURG!" He turned back to Blake who was sitting in his passenger seat. 'YOU! Drive!" kevin let go of the wheel and took his foot off teh gas. As he did he climbed out onto the hood of the car and started waving his arms, attempting to get Will's attention.

Alex Chang was enjoying some time off in his penthouse apartment in Seattle. He was living big off his paycheck from captureing the most wanted man in South Korea. Girls, Cars, Luxury, Alex was takeing in all of Seattle, but he knew it wouldn't last long. Maybe for a couple months, four at the most, Alex could soak up a life of luxury, but sooner or later he would become restless. The feeling was already growing inside of him, the desire to be hunting another mark, the thrill of the chase, and the victory of the capture. Alex's wishes were granted when he checked his E-mail that morning. The address was only a mix of numbers on a public account, untraceable. The E-mail was..

From: 5752239@FreeNet.org
To: Hunter_Chang@SecureAccess.net
Subject: Job

William Ranburg
$500,000

Attatched was a picture of a man who didn't look like the usual lowlife scum of his hunts, he almost looked like a good kid, and the name of a city. Usually, Chang's instincts would tell him not to take such a vague case hunting such an innocent looking guy, but it was months since his last hunt and he was anxious. Alex left the money for his room on his bed and threw on his heavy dark brown trenchcoat. With a smile on his face Alex's midnight blue Mustang Cobra was driveing towards the city mentioned in the E-mail.

Just as Will was getting into his car he spotted the man running towards him. "What the hell do you want? Why the hell are you yelling me name?" He screamed, sweat trickling down his neck. The FBI agents were by now just ending the flight of stairs.
He stared at the man waving at him. "What?!" He said, stopping short, shaking while he tried to decide which way to turn.

((I deleted Dragon Warriors post..))

From the car, Blake watched Kevin in disbelief. Ranburg? William Ranburg? He was almost as wanted as Kevin was. Then he saw a flash of a nightmare: suited men, FBI probably, two of them, guns pointed at Ranburg.
"HEYMAN, RANBURG, GET DOWN!" He yelled this as he brought "the relic" around, giving him an angle to shoot as he drew his beretta...

"I don't have time to explain Ranburg but it's either me or the feds, so get in the back of the fucking car now!" Heyman ran forward and grabbed Will by the shirt, pushing him towards the car he looked to the door of the hotel. He pulled out his revolver and loaded the two chambers that were empty from the previous shots. "Ranburg, in the back, Thomas, out of my seat!" Kevin fired one bullet towards the FBI as they opened the glass door to the hotel, now running after the outlaw Ranburg. The shot shattered the door and as glass rained down upon the two well dressed men Kevin took off out of the parking lot.

"Where the hell are you taking me?" Yelled Will, as he spotted the agents chasing after them in a black car that gleamed as the sun shown down upon it.
Quickley, without even thinking, he grabbed a colt from his bag and opened the back window. He popped his head out and shot. It phased the agents, making them slow down temporarily, but that was all he was meaning to do anyway.

((DISCLAIMER: My character is extremly violent, dark, and most of things he does can offend people, he in no way represents my own reflections on how life should be lived. And the name "Christopher" is purely coincidental, it has nothing to do with "Christ"))

Christopher was a dark man, especially in the empty room of the split-level house he was sitting in. It was on the edge of a bed with ruffled sheets. Only sitting and breathing slowly, there was a young girl next to him, early 20s....she could've said something along the lines of "Where are you going to go now?"...but she couldn't, because Christopher had snapped her little neck into two, she became a liability? How? Because of her screaming as he fucked her. It could've waken the whole damn neighborhood. Oh, there was the notion of a small police radio on her waist...those cops would just pick up girls off the street to do their work, like scum would also do...it was disgusting. Rape, it wasn't something Christopher enjoyed, but probably the only way to describe the horrid act he had just committed. He had heard before from some person that rape steals the souls of the vitcims...

"Soul Stealer" Christopher.

Now he couldn't think of what to do, he shouted "FUCK YOU" into the radio a few minutes ago, even faint sirens could be heard...so the cops would be there any minute, so it wasn't enough to just sit and get caught....5 counts of homicide, 2 of manslaughter...Christopher wished that it was all a mixup...but the truth wasn't easy to miss, he was a bastard, murderer, "Soul Stealer", fucker, sure, you name it...but it was just so easy once that first time you kill, you're an outcast in the eyes of society, unacceptable behavior, they'd say...so why not just kill to end every other thing that bothered you once you did it once?

"OPENING THIS FUCKING DOOR!" a voice boomed from outside of the room, followed by two crushing blows that forced the wooden guard from it's post...the room was empty, save for the dead girl...curtains waved out of the recently opened window.

((Wow, I feel dirty just typing that....thanks a lot, Tom :( ))

Blake grabbed his second beretta and joined Will. Kevin's wild driving and the desperation of the situation undermined his usually excellent marksmanship, so he went with it and aimed by memory and leading his target, pointshooting. He had thirty shots between the two guns, he had to hit SOMETHING.

Kevin glanced into the rearview mirror to check out the feds as they trailed them. "Nice shootin blake, you got a tire, that oughta slow em down." Kevin punched the glove compartment with his right hand and it fell open. "Only way to get the damn hinge to work." he pulled out a small bottle of whiskey and tilted his head back as he chugged a few mouthfuls. "WOOHOO BOYS!" he tossed the bottle into the back. "Drink up Willy you're one of us now! Okay now, I guess it's time to explain to you who we are and what's gonna go down." Kevin flipped the sun visor downin front of his face and opened the small mirror so that he could look into Will's eyes as he spoke to him. 'I am Kevin Heyman, this here is Blake Thomas. I'm sure you know who we each are. Now, let me tell you that since you've now been seen in my company you will be killed on sight by any authoritarian person. Will my friend, you're about to embark upon a journey the likes of which will go down in history. Our little menagerie here will be recruiting every high profile criminal in the greater New york area for a major heist. My master plan is this, we are going to con, shoot, conive, and balst our way into FBI headquarters in Washington D.C. and remove the filing room from existence. That way not a single shred of our trails will be seen ever again. At which point we will all high tail ourselves to sunny Orlando Florida where my associates will board us onto a boat. That boat will take us from the united states to our new arranged homes in western Africa." Kevin had just revealed his great plan for the first time since he had devised it and figured he owed himself a drink. He reached into the back, grabbing the bottle of whiskey while Will sat in pure astonishment. He once again threw his head back and let the stinging liquid take it's toll on the back of his throat. "Well my dear William, are you in or are you dead?"

Blake holstered his berettas. He hadn't just nailed the tire, he'd also put a gaping hole in one of the fed's heads. He wasn't particularily pleased with himself either. But he was alive.
"Kevin," he said, "We need to get away from here, those fed's will have called for support, maybe even airborne. Also... we should get rifles, these guns won't go through a cop's vest, but most rifle ammunition will." He paused. "So, who's next in our little fraternity?" It was a lousy attempt at humor, but he desperately needed it at the moment.

((Here I come boys.. Better beware.))

:: On a bare stretch of highway stood a tall, curved figure in a pleated black miniskirt and tall, black leather boots. Straight blonde hair hung about her rounded face, and perfectly round dark sunglasses covered her eyes. A white shirt gleamed in the sunlight, tight across her bosom, covered by a worn jean jacket with the name "Loretta" stiched over the pocket. She waited.. a few cars screamed by her as she innocently stuck out her thumb.. but she was waiting for the one.. hidden under her coat, across her back were her knives.. the news that morning had told her all she needed to know. Three bad men, three VERY bad men, were headed towards her, and they're just who she needed to see. She grinned.. if it was night, the gleam of the moon just might have revealed fangs in her dark smile.. though bright red lipstick was delicately placed across her full, pouty lips, the seductive evil hung about her like the stale smell of cigarettes. Lizzie Gryphon, aka Maxine Cervione, Juila White, and Emma Grey, waited for her destiny to scream by her.. and be snared in her web.::

((If that's not a clue, I'm waiting for you to pick me up so I can join the ranks.))

Dirk layed upon the scratch and torn couch in some sleazy hotel off of some highway. He picked up a liquor bottle half way done and took another swig to get a bad taste out of his mouth. He sat up and groaned from his pounding headache which has sparked a few minutes ago. It must be from all the stress of him on the run. He could rememerb it clearly, they busted in on his place back in his old home and found bombs all over the place and several wallets he has stolen, Dirk was lucky to get away and fortuatis that it was night time and the cops were rookies. He had a feeling though that his luck was running out and wouldn't last him much longer....he had to stay on the move. He quickly vacated the hotel to continue to his destination, where was it that he had to go. Anywhere, it didn't matter

"I couldn't ask for better timing." SUddenly Heyman skid wildly to the side of the road where the blonde was standing. "You asked who was next Blake, this is who is next." He rolled down the window and looked out it, waving the young girl over. "lookin for a ride?"

::The would-be-fanged smile again.. she leaned in close as he stuck his head out, her cleavage playing peek-a-boo under the top of her crisp white shirt.::

You know I am, Kevin.. and your timing couldn't have been better. ::Her voice was low and vixenish.. the words rolled from her in a purr.:: Or would you prefer Mr. Heyman? ::A pout and a slight moan in her voice. She trailed one finger across the curve of his chin and cheek, then girlishly kissed her fingertip, as if wanting a taste of the man she had read so mucnh about. She sashayed to the back and popped the trunk, hips swinging to the inaudible saxaphone she lived her life by. The blues.. soft, sweet, mournful, with just a touch of sexuality.. That was part of her bait. She swung her hips back towards the car and into the backseat behind the driver. An expanse of creamy skin, smooth and seemingly never ending, invited touch as she crossed her legs and settled into the seat. No seatbelt. She pulled off the jean jacket and flung it to the floor, took the glasses and folded the arms, then clipped it over her shirt, right between her 38 Cs. Finally the fluttering blonde hair was pulled away to reveal dark hair finished with a cherry sheen. She pulled it from the tight mass around her head, and it fluttered over her breasts and shoulders.::

Nice to meet you, boys. Name's Lizzie. You may not have heard of me, but you might have heard one of my five other names. The only reason I'm joining is cause the Federal Bureau of Idiots finally ruled out suicide.. ::She affected a Southern air.:: Hope ya'll don't mind a lady attending the party.

Eponine hunter was a professional. It was the only remaining title she believed she deserved. She had killed the "bought" officer with relatively little fuss. A few blood stains but no finger prints, no witnesses. She had studied his habits for weeks to pin point the prime to kill him. His room mate would not return from vacation for another week. He too would have gone on vacation. if he hadn't met his maker. That gave a week until he would be found. She was glad in her own way.
She had removed one more stain on society. Yet there was little satisfaction in peeling off the bloodied gloves and throwing them into a sewer.
After all the blood on her hands was not her fault, or at least not entirely her fault. She was trading blood for blood. His victims, her own victims blood, for his blood.
She continued walking down the city street without fear. Her picture had not yet made the papers, although some descriptions were very vivid. Most of the photos they had once had on file were destroyed in a "accident" It was convenient how many accidents were involved when it came to her records. The papers were calling her the heartless hunter. Eponine almost smiled at the thought. How very wrong they were after all, she had a heart. A wounded nearly dead heart, but that was nothing compared to those who were the real killers.
She stopped to admire her appearance in a store window. It still was strange to her. The program had changed her.
She was thin but with decent mussel to in-force her threats. Hers was a body built for stealth and quick but powerful reactions. She wore short black shorts and an obvious hip dagger sheath. Her black tank top was also revealing, and she wore two underarm gun holsters. She had little to hide, yet her long black trench coat did a decent job to prevent the panic of citizens. Her hair and her eyes however. well they stood out. The intense emotional and physical training she had done in the program.. well it changed her. Not to mention the experimental drugs. Her hair had prematurely gone gray. It was very long and she kept in a braid. They had long ago forced her to keep it short. Her current style reflected her rebellion. Her eyes.. well she was glad she had not died. Many others had. Her shattered ability to eat normal foods was mild in comparision. Not to mention her greatly reduced lifespan. She pushed the large mirror sunglasses back up into place. They were the sort of glasses you found on a hick soulth cop. well he was long past the point were he needed them.
She stuck out like a sore thumb. A large bleeding sore thumb. Yet she found the average person had a mind set of leave such sore thumbs alone. and deny their existence. She turned and began walking away from the city.

Blake couldn't help a slight stirring in his groin, despite his best efforts, as Lizzie entered and sat close to him. She had a dangerous, playful, mischevious aura around her (he found it erotic as hell), and would probably have tried to... get to know her under other circumstances. However, he didn't know how well she was... acquainted with Kevin, and he had the vague feeling that she would just as soon kill him as screw him. So he trusted his instincts and just smiled.
It was then that he noticed about ten men, standing in front of them on the road. With guns. and then, with a growing sense of dread, he noticed the bandannas... the two men he had killed... had both had bandannas like those...
He casually reached into his coat, grabbed two fresh mags, and yelled "GET DOWN," just as the first shots began to ring out...

(( thought we could use a real fight and not a skirmish like at my motel or a car chase for once.))

"Relax tiger, it's just me. Wanna smell my hand to be sure?" Kevin chuckled at his own joke but then suddenly turned grim as death. "Tiger, I need three .50 cal rifles. And I need you to stock me up for a couple of barretas, my colt, and something in a .35 for the lady."

"You're askin for some major stuff K. Luckily for you I'm a major time dealer." A scraggily little shape of a man was speaking to kevin, he had a middle eastern accent and his feet tapped with the motion of his speech making it seem as though he'd burst into song at any moment.

"Tiger, I don't want games. Give me the shit or I'm gonna fill you full of lead."

"Big words from a man who's asking me for help." Kevin pulled out his colt at this point, he pointed it directly at Tiger's temple.

"I'm not fucking around, give me the shit or you're losing your head, literally."

"Acting up for your lady friend hu-" His sentence was puncuated by a gunshot. Kevin had fired a warning to show he was serious, a warning straight through Tiger's ear lobe.

"Where's the stuff?"

"MOTHERFUCKER! WHAT IS YOUR PROBLE-" Kevin rose the gun again, this time pointing it directly between the freakish little man's eyes.

"Where is it?" tiger turned slowly and pointed crudely to a stack of boxes that were stashed in the alley. 'That's more like it." Kevin walked by him, all the time keeping his eyes on Tiger. He kicked the boxes and they spilled onto the ground, revealing stockpiles of artillery. Kevin grabed what he had asked for, as well as snub nose revolver. he tossed the black revolver to lizzie and motioned for her to follow him. "Oh and Tiger, we find out you spoke to the cops, and it won't be your ear lobe next time." Kevin tossed the new weaponry into the back of the family stationwagon he had just hijacked from the family he had taken hostage. His hair had settled into blondeness now and his face looked as if he had shaved everyday for the past two weeks. In essence he looked like a new man, no one would recognize him from old mug shots now.


They arrived back at the house fairly wuickly, taking a short cut to avoid the fire trucks and traffic around the blaze. Once they were safely inside Kevin stacked all the weaponry the crew had assembled into a neat pile in the den and walked into the basement. There sat the poor family he had taken into his own sort of custody. "hello again. I came down to see if you needed anything." The father spat at the ground.

"Oh how kind of you." His family recoiled in fear, expecting a gunshot to follow the remark. Instead it was met with what seemed to be acceptance.

"As I said, I apologize for my choice of houses, but nothing can be done about it. So please, allow me to take care of you in exchange for my group's lodgings."

"We dont' need a damn thing from scum like you!"

"Tell him daddy!" One of the children cried out. Her mother dove on her to protect her and silence her at once.

"I am far from scum, but you can view me as you like." With that Kevin turned back and walked up the stairs, barracading the door as he closed it. "Give me an hour, I'll have a plan by then." he flopped down in a lying position on the black leather couch in the den and closed his eyes.

(Jess' post)


::Lizzie looked out the window non-chalantly before ducking.:: Now who went and invited them? ::They opened fire on the car but Blake was already answering back. He was leaned over her firing out the window, and his body jolted slightly with each shot. Not the first time she'd been under a shaking man. Lizzie's skirt was hiked up over her panties, revealing black satin.:: Now have a care and save it for the honeymoon. ::She reached down and tweaked him, causing his weight to lift off her and most surely his aim to go sour. She only wished she could see the look frozen on his face. Lizzie slid carefully out from under him and took his seat in the middle, next to one of the other fellows she'd read about and seen on the TV. She fanned herself and put on an exasperated look.:: Tough being the only girl in a car full of hardened convicts. ::If she'd had a gun she would've followed Blake's example. But any firearm she'd handled wasn't hers and she was careful not leave prints. Kevin thankfully slamnmed the gas, but what sort of attacker wasn't prepared for a car chase sprinkled with gunfire?::

Gentleman better get your guns. We wouldn't want your spectacular careers to end so messily now do we?

Dirk continues down a dirt path road to mowhere. His head was still hurting and spinning from the liquor. He couldn't see 7 feet infront of him so he couldn't tell if he was heading back into the city or away from the city. He was starting to get thirsty again, and he had already drank all his alcohol, was he going to die out here.....no way Dirk is a survivor. He decided to wait for his head to regain balence, so he sat down by the side of the road, yet still managed to fall on his back. He began to get a weird feeling in his stomach when all of the sudden. *bllaaaaaah* he lost it right on the side of the road. That made him feel better and caused his head to stop twirling. He got back up and continued to walk on to anywhere away from the cops.

Kevin dropped down out of sight just as the first shots were fired and slammed his foot down on the gas. The car took off, flattening all but one of the gang members. "Damn it, I missed max points!" Kevin laughed. "Here we go! I can't miss one." He stopped the car and clicked on the radio, blasting "Dirty deeds" by ACDC. He kicked the drivers side door open and rolled out, firing his entire round at the last gang member, hitting him twice in the shins and twice in the throat. "CHA CHING! But I can't believe I missed two shots!" Kevin jumped back into the car and sped off down the highway. Just as he turned off at an exit he heard sirens screaming behind him, and a chopper above. "SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT! Thomas, MAGNUM NOW!"

::Disclaimer:: ( This Pat posting under Joe's name this one time until my "own name" is validated. I had wanted to post after Blake incountered the Gang but apparently i wasnt validated yet. This is meant to occur after that post, please insert it there, and than go to the present post, so as to allow me to easily join in and be in the car with the rest of you)

As the car screeched to a halt with Blake and company coming face to face with the gang, a masked man named Gerhalt, who was about 5"10", 150 was standing on the side of the street in an alleyway. The man was dressed in all black with a mask on that only showed his bright yellow eyes, and a streak of brown hair that was coming out the back of his head in a ponytail. The mysterious figure stood there watching the two sides fire on each other as he looked at his reflection in his double-edged Katana. Gerhalt tested the blade on the side of a building wall and sparks flew, he than ran out in the fray. Gerhalt ran towards the gang and viciously stabbed two of the members, who each fell to the ground with an ear-piering scream. Blake turned to run to the stopped car filled with the convicts when he took a bullet to the shoulder. Blood began to pour out, as Gerhalt continued to dash towards the vehicle gripping his arm and whincing in pain. He approached them and yelled to Blake. "Hey im hear to help you" as he hopped into the back of the car. The car's engine began to rev.

(Great to have you Pat)

"Damn!" Blake yelled. That damned gang always picked the worst time to show up. They'd lost time, and it would cost them. Even now he heard to chopper. First he turned to Lizzie, "Are you ok?" he asked. She gave a small nod. Then, he remembered the newcomer. "Get in!" He yelled, "Hurry!" And then he went up front to Kevin to see what he could to help.

Police station:

Chase had cleverly disguised himself as one of the chopper pilots. when he had reached the chopper he was going to take he saw that there were two people already gfoing to search down kevin and the others. he ran and got into the chopper and knocked out the two pilots. he set his guitar case down on the passenger seat of the chopper and began to lift off. when he was safelky in the air the pilots began to wake up.

"wha...whats going on..." pilot num,ber one said.

"this is whats going on" chase said as he jammed a hunting knife in the pilots throat and pulling it out before shoving him out of the copter. the other one tried to radio for help but chase grabbed the radio wire and choked the man to death with it and shoved him out of the copter as well.he undressed out of his disguise to reveal a young man wearing a black tanktop and white camoflauge pants. "now heymen.....where are you" he said as he flew off looking for kevin.

::She laughed.:: Fine sweetheart, why wouldn't I be? But these boys are pissing me off. And you don't want to know what happens when boys piss me off. ::She grinned evilly. A new one popped into the back of the car. She leaned forward, in between the two front seats and cooed into Kevin's ear.::

We're gonna need a bigger car. ::She ran one nail across the back of his neck.:: Maybe something in green?

"Drive Kevin Drive!" Those comments were largely unnessecary, the prescense of a chopper was motivation enough for him to hit the gas. Blake couldn't really do much about the chopper, but there were also cars in pursuit, and not keeping their distance either. A big mistake. "Keep your heads down!" He yelled to the others. It was a miracle that none of them had been shot by the gang, he only could hope their luck didn't run out. He began to fire out the back window. The cops didn't hesitate to return fire as well. He had managed to take out one driver when suddenly he was thrown backwards. He looked down at his shoulder to see blood gushing from a wound. He had been hit, and he was losing blood, fast. He layed down with his upper torso propped up on a seat, and then blacked out.

::Blood gushed across her white shirt and all over her hands and arms.:: Now they've made me mad.. ::She lifted Blake. Lizzie pulled off her shirt, her bare breasts exposed for a moment as she wrapped the already blood-soaked shirt around his wound. She picked up her jean jacket and threw it over her shoulders, her chest streaked with red, hot blood. After buttoning one clasp across her breasts she grabbed Blake's guns. Using both hands she leaned out the side door and began firing. Her aim was almost impeccable. She shot out the front tires on the car directly behind them and took out the driver. Faces were her targets as she fired wildly without a single hint of remorse.::

::Her face was merely in a growl: Her eyes narrowed to menacing slivers and her teeth bared. The first car skidded and rolled, causing the other cars behind it to crash. The chopper would be a bit harder to deal with, but nevertheless she fired up, having rolled on her back. Her thighs rested in Blake's lap as she fired upward at the windows of the chopper. It tilted in the air and looked like it was losing control.. hopefully some bullets had reached the pilots. She threw Blake's guns down in the bottom of the car and took a look at the carnage behind her. The cars were a mass of fire and broken glass. The survivors were scampering away as fast as they could. She turned back to Blake.::

Shit he's bleeding everywhere. ::She started tearing the cloth from his shirt. She doubted he would mind. She had a bunch of other clothes in her bag anyhow.. She wound the cloth tightly around Blake's shoulder as best she could. In the middle of her task she stopped and laughed at her own irony.:: This might be the first time I ever helped a man who was bleeding. ::She slapped him lightly across the face.:: Blake.. Blake wake up. C'mon, you've gotta stay concious if you want to stay alive.. Anybody got any water?

Blake came to groggily, feeling weak. His senses were vague at best, eyes still closed. He remebered shooting and getting shot, then blacking out. He heard a distant voice "...wake up. C'mon, you gotta stay conscious if you want to stay alive..." He heard the voice, but all he wanted to do was sleep... Still, he understood the voice. He couldn't go to sleep again, he wouldn't wake up again if he did. Slowly he opened his eyes, saw Lizzie above him. He gave her a weak smile.
"I'm with you... I'll try to slow my heart rate, slow the bleeding..." Even as he said it he began to meditate. It was known fact that meditation could effect mood, even your vital signs. He focused on a serene pool, and felt the flow of blood from his wound slow...

::She looked at him.:: How is he a murderer? He's just not cold.. ::She pressed harder on his wound. The blood was slowing down, but this wound was still going to require stitches and a way to get the bullet out. She checked his back. No exit wound. Yeah, it was still in there.. :: Kevin you're gonna have to pull off at the next hospital.. I've got a plan. ::She started wiping dried blood off herself and her hands turned white again.:: We bring him into the emergency room, I'll disguise myself as his wife. We were walking along in the park when he was shot by a passing car... I'll smudge up his face and hopefully they won't recognize him.. In the meantime ditch this heap and find us a better one. Punch it Kevin!

"Only one problem with that one hun." He was being a touch Chauvanistic "but every damn person in this state knows my face. Excuse me for a second." He leaned out the window and shot three shots at the chopper, atempting to hit the gas tank but to no avail. "What you have to learn is t hat we're all dangerous men, but so far i've not seen anything that would suggest any of us being cold hearted at all." He flashed a smile quickly. "Now hold on for a moment." He slammed the steering wheel to the right, and pushed his foot harder on the gas, bringing the old car onto a dirt road which he flew down at a tremendous speed. "And if you learn one thing from me, learn this, I've ALWAYS got a plan! Now everyone, get ready to jump out of the car." He made another sharp left, crashing into a tree. Kevin dove from the drivers side door as soon as the car had stopped.

Gerhalt who had been sitting in the back was in a state of confusion and starting to fear for himself and the others. It was obvious that it was going to be damn near impossible to escape the helicopters that Lizzie didnt end up taking out and his shoulder was still gushing blood. The fact that Blake had got shot in the shoulder too wasnt reassuring at all, it just made Gerhalt have flash backs to his injury. Gerhalt who began to feel useless as he couldnt shoot at a thing in this pursuit due to the fact that he weilded a Katana and not gun. He began to feel isolated from the others. Lizzie continued to tighten the shirt on Blakes arm as much as possible. Gerhalt tried to reassure Blake " You and me buddy, were gonna be ok, just you watch, im hear for ya. We may be completely different but we do have one thing in common. Ha...cough..ha." Gerhalt's arm really began to throb. "Lizzie your idea is perfect for Blake but what about me, i would never pass as your kid if your going to have to end up being Blake's wife in this hospital scheme." Gerhalt looked around Kevin and the rest were firing on the pursitors and Gerhalt began to feel a little better as he watched some men fall down, a metal bullet nawing threw their heads. No matter what happened from this point on, Gerhalt knew only two things. He needed his shoulder to stop bleeding, and he needed to get himself a bereta.

Shit I didn't even know you were hurt.. but we all might be if Kevin's gonna throw us out of the car. ::She braced herself.. Kevin veered towards a tree. She kicked open the door and grabbed Blake's shoulders.. Right before impact she threw him out and dove. The others went out the other side. The car slammed into the tree breaking the trunk and completely totalling the car. Lizzie rolled and came to a stop in the dirt. Her bag was flung from the trunk and she picked herself up and snatched it. She tossed Will a red tee shirt.::

Patch the other one up. Kevin what now? Where's your plan? ::She pulled a flowered blouse from the bag, and a long green skirt. She wiped more streaks of dried blood off her chest and changed the jean jacket for the blouse. She swapped skirts and suddenly she was a modest, bohemian redhead. She tied a kerchief around her head and stood up, dragging Blake to his feet.:: Now what, leader boy?