The green flag waves as the cars start their dance! This is continuing story of Rally Vincent and her beloved Shelby GT500 versus the blindingly quick Porsche 959! Please Enjoy this new presentation from the mind of the Knightewolfe.

Gunsmith Cats

Dancing with the 9-5-9

Chapter 3: Special Delivery Complete – Rally Gets Curious

The phone rang in a dark British Racing Green metallic Porsche 959 cruising well above the posted speed limit on the highway. The driver let it ring for a moment as he navigated around a group of slower moving vehicles before answering.

"Hello? Oh, it's you. You're nobody important. Yes, the job is done like I reported earlier. Have the payment deposited in the organizations accounts minus my cut. I'll pick it up tomorrow when I run by the office. No, I can't have a drink with you and the others tomorrow night. Got a hot date with a beautiful young socialite and I gotta make sure my Esperante is clean. Plus, I got to get my tuxedo out of the cleaners. Hehehehe, when you're me and have a bevy of attractive ladies vying for your attention, one must always attend to ones appearance, right? Eh, I dunno where my companion and I may end up. Might be her place, might be mine. Who knows? Then again, I might end up all by my lonesome tomorrow night after my date.", teased Marcus as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line sputter in frustration.

Changing lanes again to get around a slow moving caddy, Marcus glared at the offensive piece of crap and sped away. He grumbled to himself about how the head of GM should've killed off their luxury division forty years ago. Marcus considered Cadillac's to be over-priced baubles of inferior quality and worthless craftsmanship. He'd take any old Mercedes Benz, Jaguar, or Aston Martin over the caddy for a luxury conveyance. Hell he'd take a Lincoln-Mercury or a Chrysler-Plymouth over a caddy and he wasn't particularly fond of domestic cars. Though there were some exceptions. Bringing his attention back to the voice on his phone, Marcus chuckled at what he heard.

"So, the great Rally Vincent is making me her target. And she's calling in her father, the legendary Mr. V. I should be flattered but I'm starting to feel a sense of excitement here. I bet she doesn't realize that she's riding with the person who is a veritable gold mine of information on me. Oh well, she'll learn soon enough. Yes I know that the Alliance is scouting both Ms. Vincent and her father out for entrance into our organization. Have one of our observation teams start watching them but concentrate on Mr. V. for now. We'll approach him first. Give it about two months or so. Choose one of the board members to make the initial contact. The entrance of his daughter into our organization depends on how we handle him. I believe, and I think the council agrees, they both bring a lot to the table. With quite a few of our personnel overseas or retiring, we need to bring in new people. Dammit, you know I just got back from a security consulting and contract tour overseas. It was my third one in four years, asshole! Yeah, yeah, yeah, just start the process already. I know that you are senior to me in the hierarchy of the organization but I'm the asset on the ground and I'm going with my gut on this one. Now if you don't have anything else to add to this conversation, I'm hanging up.", harrumphed Marcus as he cut the connection.

Deciding to just turn off his satellite phone, Marcus did so and placed it in the armrest. He did not need his co-worker calling him again tonight. Turning up the volume of his radio, Marcus let the classical music roll over him and out the windows. Ah nothing felt better after a job than listening to classical music as he cruised down the road.

It was late when Riff-Raff pulled her Cobra into her driveway and activated the garage door opener. Glancing over at Rally as she covered her yawn with her hand, Riff chuckled. The last fifty or so miles had been rough, they were out of pastries, the truck stop coffee was hours old and weak to boot, and both of them had been fighting sleep as the adrenalin rush from their harried escape had dissipated. Riff had offered Rally one of her extra rooms but the bounty hunter had declined and said that she had enough energy to make it home.

Once her garage door was open and the light on, Riff-Raff pulled in. Heading over to her parking spot, Riff spotted the menacing presence of the Buff and knew that Bean had come over to wait for her return. Sure enough, as soon as she pulled into her spot and shut off the engine, Bean Bandit entered the garage from the door leading into her house. In his massive hands were two steaming cups of hot chocolate. Riff winced when she saw the frown she was expecting when Bean saw the damage to her car. Before he could speak, Riff reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips while grabbing one of the mugs from his hands.

"It happened after the transaction. A couple of crew wagons showed up and tried to keep us from getting away, we managed to evade the majority of the guys but one persistent bugger in a Mercedes kept up. With help from an unknown third party, we eluded the Benz. Last I saw of it, the Benz was spinning out of control. Rally says she saw a man who she thinks is a professional hitter helping out. I missed it but believe her. Tomorrow she's gonna talk to her dad about using his contacts to find this guy. I told her that we'd help anyway we can.", explained Riff between sips of the delectable cocoa.

Bean nodded as he handed Rally her own mug before stepping over to the Cobra and popping the hood. Coming back to where the two women waited, the Roadbuster wrapped his arms around his Speed Angel and told her that he'd pull the engine tomorrow for a teardown and possible rebuild to make sure it was okay.

"In the morning, I'll call Marcus to help me with pulling the engine. Once it's out, we can go over it with a fine tooth comb. Since he built it, Marcus may see something I might miss. If you have any errands to run tomorrow, take the LS7. I'll pick it up when I go pick up Marcus. Now, I want you to take off that gun and put it up. Then I want you to go to your room and take off your clothes before climbing into the bathtub where a hot bath is waiting for you. After that, you're going straight to bed. No passing go, no nocturnal activities, none of that! The both of you are exhausted. If I could, I'd hide Rally's keys to keep her from going home. Unfortunately, I know that she wouldn't appreciate it if I did. Riff, once you finish that hot cocoa your night is over. Now get moving! Don't make me have to carry you upstairs.", stated Bean in his no nonsense voice.

Riff grumbled at the actions of her fiancé in front of her friend but let the sudden flash of embarrassment and anger die down. No matter how much of a hardheaded asshole he was, Bean was right about how exhausted she was. Looking over at Rally, Riff saw the twinkle of amusement in her eyes that was tempered by the memories Riff knew Rally had of when she was dating the master courier. Savoring the last few sips of cocoa, Riff finished her cup and handed it to her fiancé before wishing Rally a good night and heading for the house to avail herself of the warm bath Bean had drawn for her.

Watching his fiancée as she climbed the stairs to the bedroom, Bean turned to his ex-girlfriend. He was about to speak but held his words when Rally held up her hand.

"You don't have to thank me Bean, she's my friend. Of course I was going to cover her tail during this run. With the amount of jewels in the chest and their price, it would've been foolish for her to make this run alone. One more thing before I go, Riff was correct when she told you what would have happened if you had been making the delivery. It wouldn't have been pretty. Now I need to be heading home so I can get some sleep as well. At least I can sleep late since my new employee; Michelle is opening the store tomorrow. If her son is feeling better, the midget will be there as well to give her a hand. Hopefully everything will run smoothly till I get there. I'll see you later Bean.", Rally said as she finished her cocoa and passed the mug back to the master courier.

Bean nodded gruffly before stepping back as Rally climbed into her dark grey Cobra II and started it up. Once it was idling, she returned her rifle and shotgun to their cases and put them in the trunk. Closing the trunk and climbing back in to the driver's seat, Rally waved at the Roadbuster before shifting her car into gear and exiting the garage. Once out in the driveway, Rally rolled her window down and waved at the giant of a man before pulling out into the street for the drive home. As she pulled off, she could see the garage light go out and the door come down. Sighing to herself, Rally wondered what could've been if she hadn't broken up with Bean Bandit. Though he was coarse, unapologetic, and didn't give a damn about much except for his cars and for getting the job done, he was also the sweetest man she had ever known and one of the best lovers she'd ever had. Although, she'd never had that much experience in that field anyway.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! Are all the good men taken? Shit this sucks!", groused Rally as she drove through the streets of her city.

When she arrived home, Rally pulled into her driveway and killed the engine. Sitting there in the silence, Rally wondered if she was ever going to find Mr. Right. Though her father hadn't hinted at grandchildren yet, Rally knew it was coming; probably within the next few years. Rally sighed as she reluctantly climbed out of her car. Going around to the trunk and retrieving her weapons cases, Rally returned to her car door and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat before closing and locking her car up. Walking up to her door with her keys in her hand, Rally kept up her vigilance. Though this was a quiet neighborhood, she still watched out for herself.

Upon entering the house after unlocking the door, Rally entered her kitchen. Seeing the plate of sandwiches and the note from Minnie May, she chuckled in amusement at the whimsical words of the former prostitute and avid bomber. Closing and relocking her door and resetting her alarm system, Rally headed for her gun safe. Dialing in the combination, she pulled open the heavy door. Opening the case and withdrawing her shotgun and rifle from within, she made sure both were unloaded before securing them in their respective slots. Once the rifle and shotgun were secured, Rally set the unused ammo on the shelf before closing the safe and spinning the dial to lock it up. Deciding to clean her 12 gauge in the morning, Rally headed for her bedroom. Entering her inner sanctum and turning on the light, she kicked off her shoes 'damn heels', she grumbled as she slipped out of her jacket and hung it on the door before removing her shoulder holster and hanging it on the bed post.

Padding across the room in stocking feet, skirt, and blouse Rally reached into her closet and pulled out her cleaning kit. Retrieving her CZ from her shoulder holster, Rally spread an old towel across her bed, ejected the full magazine and cleared the round in the chamber before started to disassemble her beloved pistol for cleaning. Half an hour later, Rally finished reassembling her pistol after giving it a good cleaning. Working the slide a bit to spread some of the oil around, Rally slipped in a full magazine and chambered the top round before decking the hammer and engaging the safety. Placing the loaded weapon in her nightstand where she could access it if necessary, the twenty-six year old beauty stripped off her remaining clothes before heading towards the bath. Changing her mind when she yawned, Rally went over to her dresser and grabbed one of the shirts she slept in before going over and turning off the light and returning to her bed. Climbing in and situating herself, Rally ran a hand under her pillow to check to see if her little .25 ACP was still where she'd placed it while cleaning her CZ. Feeling the familiar shape poking up under her pillow, Rally yawned again and switched off the lamp on her nightstand before letting her head fall to her pillow.

With her little pocket pistol under her pillow and the comforting smell of fresh gun oil in the air, Rally Irene Vincent was asleep mere seconds after her head hit the pillow.

It was nearing three o'clock in the afternoon when Rally was finally able to get away from the shop for a late lunch. Cruising over to the location for their meeting given to her by her father, the twenty-five year old enjoyed the visceral thrill demonstrated by the 460 cubic inch, three hundred and seventy-five horsepower beast of her beloved Shelby GT500 whenever she got generous with the throttle. Comfortably seated in her after market racing seat, Rally kept an eye out for the white and blue Shelby Super Snake she knew her father drove. Spotting the familiar vehicle, Rally chuckled as she again wondered what made her father request that particular paint scheme.

"Maybe he chose it because it is the opposite of the paint scheme of my Shelby GT500.", mused Rally as she pulled her 67 Shelby into the spot next to the Super Snake.

Shutting off her engine and adjusting her sunglasses, Rally extended one svelte, jeans-encased leg outside and climbed out from her vehicle in one smooth motion. Closing and locking the door of her most prized possession (after her 1st generation CZ75, of course), Rally glanced around. Seeing her father acknowledge her arrival with a wave of his hand from one of the cafe's outdoor tables, Rally waved back while giving her jacket a slight tug downward and rolling her shoulders to reseat her shoulder holster comfortably.

As she was making her way in her father's direction, Rally kept alert. With her situational awareness keeping her informed about the things going on around her, the bounty hunter entered the small cafe and set course for the outdoor patio table where her father sat underneath the tables' open sunshade. As she approached, her father rose from his seat and pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table. Nodding her appreciation, Rally gave her father a quick peck on the cheek before sitting down. Once down and comfortable, she allowed her father to push her chair in and waited for him to retake his own seat before starting the conversation.

"Good afternoon father. How are you doing today?", asked Rally as a waitress approached the table to take her order.

"I'm fine, thank you. How about you? I heard what happened last night, you alright?", replied Mr. V. as he took a sip from his glass.

Rally nodded while retrieving one of the sugar cookies from the plate in the middle of the table.

"That's good. News travels fast in our line of work. I found out about what happened fifteen minutes after you called me. Sounds like somebody spilled the beans about the meet. I heard that you acquitted yourself admirably when the fit hit the shan."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Everything happened after the transaction as Riff and I were leaving. By the time the gunmen arrived, Riff's client had already departed from the scene.".

The elder Vincent nodded and leaned back in his chair. Even though he wore his trademark sunglasses, Rally knew that her father was waiting for her to tell him about everything that happened from start to finish. Taking a sip of water from the provided glass, Rally launched into the story about the previous nights events. Though her recitation took over an hour, Rally's father sat back and listened to it all. He didn't interrupt except to ask for a few clarifications. When her tale was finished, Rally leaned back and gazed at her father while nibbling on the remnants of the deli sandwich the server had brought during the middle of her story.

"Hmm, I see. You're concerned about the mysterious shooter that you saw and want to see if I know anything. I'm beginning to see why you called me last night. From your description, you think this shooter is a pro. I agree with you on that point. His not flinching when you were firing Riff-Raff's Hi-Power at him reveals that this guy is either real good or has a death wish. Though I am in the middle of something right now and cannot devote my full time and resources to finding out more about this professional, I'll keep an ear out for any information involving the arrival of a new player in town and pass on anything I learn to you. I applaud the fact that in all the fuss you were able to catch a glimpse of the shooter. Although I think that if we do find him, before you run him in, you need to thank him for his assistance. The two of you might not have made it away from that Mercedes if it wasn't for him.", stated Mr. V as he clasped his hands together and leaned forward.

"I'll thank him for his assistance right before I slap my handcuffs on him and run him in.", growled Rally.

Mr. V. observed his daughter from behind his shades and had to smother a chuckle. He guessed that his little Irene was still resolving some inner issues she had about the engagement between Riff-Raff and Bean Bandit. Frowning a bit at a memory, Mr. V. remembered that the Roadbuster had been his daughters' first serious relationship and first lover. Though he didn't have anything against the man (Bean had saved his little princesses life on numerous occasions after all), Mr. V was a bit concerned and made a mental note to have a 'chat' with the younger man to find out his reasons for ending the relationship.

"But first I have to find out more information on this new organization that has entered the city. From what I hear, it's been around a long time but not as active. Now it seems to be spreading its wings and starting to have an affect on those who hide their actions from the light of day.", mused Mr. V as he watched Rally excuse herself to answer a phone call.

When his daughter returned to the table after ending her call, Mr. V banished his thoughts to another part of his mind and proceeded to sit back and converse with Rally on the goings on in her life. It had been awhile since the two of them had sat down and just talked about whatever came to mind. He realized that he enjoyed these talks with his daughter. It allowed him to see the strong woman she'd become in the years since her mother had been killed. Though he was grateful that Rally had many friends who loved her and would stand by her in any kind of situation, Mr. V was less than thrilled that Rally had gone into the field of bounty hunting. There were many times when he wondered how Rally managed bounty hunting and running her gun shop. He'd stopped by Gunsmith Cats on several occasions to check on Rally, help out a bit around the store, spend some time on the range, and occasionally observed as she taught a firearms class.

Sighing to himself as he listened to his daughter, Mr. V looked forward to the time when he could finally retire from the bounty hunting business and just be there in his daughters' life. He'd missed enough of her life as it was due to his pursuit of the bastards who'd murdered his beloved wife.

"I've missed too much of her life as it is. I want to be there for her in the future as a father should be."

Tuning back in to the conversation at hand, Mr. V. wondered about the future for both himself and his daughter.

While Rally and her father chatted over the remnants of their lunch, Marcus was in the midst of a hard fought racquetball competition between him and one of his contractor buddies from overseas.

"Awww, come on Hipshot, you can do better than that!", teased Marcus as he smashed the small ball of hard rubber up against the concrete wall in front of him.

"Hehehehe, give it a rest Speedy! This ain't the sandbox and we ain't at the company compound where our teams were during our last contract in the Sandbox with our fellow security contractors. As I recall, last time we played there, you were loosing until our game was interrupted by that RPG attack.", returned the shorter man dashing in front of Marcus to return his shot.

Marcus chuckled at the memory. His friend was right about the last time they'd played. After the interruption, their game had not been finished until a month or so later right before Joey 'Hipshot' Turner had finished up his contract and returned to the States. At the time, Marcus still had maybe two or three months left to go in his contract to protect executives visiting Iraq. In those last months, Marcus had been the senior team leader in charge of eight of his companies' protection teams. By that time, he'd been in several defensive firefights, had three vehicles blown out from under him and his team by IED's, and had spent several nights in the hospital recovering from injuries sustained in those explosions. In addition, Marcus had lost a few team members to the enemy in roadside ambushes.

Today, wearing a pair of workout shorts and no shirt, the twenty-six year old executive security consultant and contractor was aware of the scars on his body from his experiences. Everyday he woke up, before he lit his first cigarette of the day, Marcus thanked god for the level four Dragonskin body armor the company he worked for, Alliance Security Consultants, made mandatory for their consultants and contractors heading overseas to fulfill contracts.

Marcus returned the ball at a low angle where his opponent (also a security consultant for the same company) could not reach the ball to return it, thus icing his victory. Stepping over to shake his friend's hand, Marcus grabbed his towel and mopped up the sweat running down his torso as Joey tossed him a bottle of water after retrieving the ball.

Drinking some of the water, Marcus slipped the retaining strap of his racquet from his wrist before stepping over to where he'd dropped the padded racquet case and unzipping it so he could stow his racquet. Grabbing his T-shirt from his small workout bag, Marcus sat down against the wall to let his breathing return to normal. Joey sat down next to him and leaned against the wall with his towel draped over his head.

"I hear you're transferring in from the Jackson Branch? What brought up the move if you don't mind me asking?", questioned Marcus as he finished the bottle of water and stowed it in his bag.

"Yeah, the branch manager here needed to fill in a spot since one of our compatriots is retiring from the business. He figured that it would be easier to have somebody transfer in than to promote somebody to fill the spot. Plus, with a change in my priorities I figured a desk job will suit me just fine. I don't much fancy a return to the east for another contract. What about you?", asked Joey.

"Bah, boss heard that I'd been on three back to back to back contract runs in four years and felt that it was time for me to step back and let some of the other guys and gals go out on contract. I tried to get him to send me back out but he wasn't having it and kept me here. In addition, he made a change to my personnel file that restricts me from accepting a new contract to go back east for the foreseeable future. I was kind of grumpy at first but, in the end, I can understand why he did it. I was exhausted and almost burnt out. Going on contract after contract had affected my health a bit and before I accepted the job here, he ordered me on a two-month long vacation after I got out of the hospital. Hell, he even paid for the vacation and set up my itinerary for the trip. ", griped Marcus as he slipped his shirt on.

The older man nodded in agreement at the actions their employer took to give Marcus a break. Yeah, it was drastic and high-handed but what do you do to a man who showed as much promise as Marcus Miller. Joey, as a more senior member of the company, often heard what the higher level company executives were saying about various employees. A while back, he'd been present at a high-level company meeting as an aide to his branch manager where he'd heard that the bosses were considering several of the consultants for future high level positions in the company. His friend had been mentioned as a possible successor to ascend to the position of executive chairman several years in the future. Of course he couldn't say anything about it but Joey hoped that Marcus would ultimately become the head of the company when he finally retired from the operational field.

"Don't worry about it Marcus. Give it some time; you'll be back out in the field before you know it. Doing what you do best. Everything will balance out in the end. Just appreciate the break and concentrate on your work here.", stated Joey as he checked his watch and made preparations to stand up.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. That's what my branch manager says each time a contract negotiation comes up. And he catches me trying to sign up for it."

The older consultant snorted before retrieving his bag and heading for the locker room. Looking over his shoulder, Joey told Marcus that he'd see him later. He had to be somewhere in a few hours.

"Oh, what's up?", asked Marcus as he rose to his feet.

"I gotta go pick up my wife from the hospital. She was getting a check up."

"You got married?! Who in their right mind would marry you?", chuckled Marcus as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"You remember Boom-Boom Magee?"

"Yeah, one of our fellow team leaders out east; nicknamed 'Boom-Boom' because of the fact that she always carried a 12 gauge shotgun instead of a carbine like the rest of us out there. You married Her? If my memory doesn't fail me, she was one of the best leaders out there, even with her….peculiarities. She's here too? What's she doing now? Last I heard, she was due to become a branch manger somewhere."

Joey grimaced a bit as a sore muscle made itself known.

"Yeah, she's here. You're right she was supposed to become branch manager for one of the offices on the West Coast. However, her and I got together and one thing led to another. They yanked her promotion to branch manager and made her director or something or another. We got married after that and a few months later, I was transferred here. And before you ask, Boom-Boom's expecting our first kid. That's why she's getting a check-up."

Marcus felt his mouth hit the floor as he digested the news that Kira 'Boom-Boom' Magee, one of the most flamboyant and lively of all the team leaders in the sandbox for the company, had married Hipshot and now they were expecting their first child. Damn, what else has he missed in the past few months? Tuning back in to the conversation, Marcus heard his friend bring up something that Marcus would rather have remained forgotten.

"Oh yeah, Boom-Boom said not to worry about that night at the hotel during team stand down time. She knew that what happened between the two of you was only for that night. She thanks you for treating her with respect that night and greatly appreciates it. Boom-Boom also said you owe her five grand for the silk sheets y'all ruined but she won't hold it against you. Talk to you later Marcus.", Joey tossed over his shoulder as he entered the locker room to shower.

Marcus acknowledged the farewell with a wave of his hand as he thought back to the night in question. Shaking his head, the young man turned towards the bank of elevators. He'd catch the one up to the floor where his office was and use the shower there. Sifting through his memories, Marcus commented to himself.

"White silk sheets, black satin lingerie, and chocolate sauce don't mix. That did become a fun night though.", commented Marcus as the elevator doors closed behind him.

It was around 12:30 in the morning and Marcus was in his garage doing some last minute tuning on the supercharged 2.7L Chrysler V-6 engine he'd installed in his 1993 Dodge Shelby Daytona in place of the 4-cylinder engine that had originally graced the engine bay. It had taken him several years to find an example of that particular engine and when he found it, he'd almost thrown a party. Behind Marcus, the radio filled the garage with the mellow sounds of contemporary classical music.

After his dinner date with an attractive-and extremely wealthy-socialite had ended (though not the way she'd wanted it to) on a favorable note, Marcus had declined the proffered cup of coffee the socialite had offered him while they were sitting in her study and had given his apologies for not staying longer by stating that he had to be at work early the next day and needed to get some sleep. The socialite had pouted a bit but ultimately accepted the fact that there wasn't going to be any of the hanky-panky she'd had planned for later. Marcus asked for and received a rain check on later activities after dropping a chaste kiss that promised more onto her waiting lips and exiting the house.

An hour after arriving home (unreasonably early for him), Marcus had parked his Panoz Esperante and was changing out of his dress clothes into something a bit more casual when received a call on his satellite phone. The person on the other end of the connection had been brief. Thirty seconds after answering, Marcus had hung up and headed down to his basement garage where, in addition to the aforementioned '93 Daytona, several other vehicles were parked.

Lifting his head up from the Daytona's engine bay, Marcus could see the rest of the cars he kept here. A Volvo S60R, two Volkswagen Corrado VR6's, a Toyota All-Trac Celica, a Chevy Beretta GTZ that was in the process of being sold, an S4 Lotus Turbo Esprit, and the Panoz Esperante he'd used for his date. At the dimly lit far engine of the garage, sitting low and menacing in the shadows that enhanced its fearsome visage was Marcus' beloved Porsche 959.

Finishing his tuning and wiping his hands on the micro-fiber towel to clean off the grease and oil, Marcus shifted his attention to the laptop monitor showing the new engine parameters on a split screen next to the previous parameters where Marcus had tinkered on the engine before. Nodding at the new figures being shown for horsepower and torque, he could see that tonight's work had netted him a net gain of thirty more horsepower and sixty pound feet of torque to the already well-built engine. Scrolling down the screen, the twenty-six year old saw that with the additional power, he needed to change his suspension settings and strengthen his brakes. Deciding to do a rough tune on the suspension tonight while on this assignment that had been dropped in his lap at the last minute, Marcus saved the new settings and exited the performance program. Opening another program dealing with the engine control unit, Marcus used the new figures to reconfigure his ECU for better performance, increased fuel efficiency, and a smoother power band across the board; improving and exponentially enhancing the fun factor for the driver.

Knowing that it may take a short bit while the processing unit worked its magic, Marcus walked through his garage to the always locked back door. Unlocking the door and shutting off the alarm system, he stepped out into the crisp night air and lit a cigarette. Exhaling smoke Marcus sat down on the hard concrete and leaned back against the door, not worrying about getting his shirt dirty. Once he was finished with his cigarette, Marcus was going to change shirts anyways. Thinking back on his day, Marcus relaxed as his mind sorted the memories of the day into a proper order. This moment of solitude was quite meditative and the young man allowed his mind to wander. Midway through his thoughts and nearing the end of a second cigarette, Marcus heard the chime of his cell-phone signifying that one of his contacts had sent him a text. Flipping open his phone, Marcus lifted an eyebrow as he accessed the short message:

"Be careful; Cops using new Challenger interceptors tonight. Just giving you a heads up! – Smoke.".

Now this was quite unexpected. Marcus racked his memory as he tried to remember the specs on the police interceptor versions of the new Dodge Challengers. When he recalled the specifications, he stroked his chin in thought. That 5.7 liter Hemi V8 was no joke although slightly underpowered to be pushing such a large car. Before he could think more on it, he received another text.

"Snotty says: cops ditched 5.7 liter hemi. Using either a 6.2 or 6.4 liter hemi backed by a six-speed with an LSD. Serious power; his estimate is 500+'. I concur. OBTW, no light bars on these plain wrappers. – Smoke.".

Marcus did not like the sound of that and expressed his displeasure in his usual way.

"Well, shit."

Sending a quick message back, Marcus checked the time. Finishing the cigarette and putting it out, he headed inside to see if his laptop had finished its work and to change clothes. He had someplace to be.

Thirty minutes later, the muted burble of the newly tuned and supercharged six cylinder engine floated out into the night as Marcus left home.

In a local area parking lot, a blue on white Shelby Super Snake idled as the driver waited for his prey to appear. The enigmatic Mr. V sat observing the spontaneous car show going on around him and his car. To his right sat a matched pair of Lotus Evora S'. Behind him was a Chevy Corvette C3. Across from him was beautifully restored Plymouth Barracuda. Nearby were Mitsubishi 3000GT VR4's, Toyota Supras, Nissan 300, 350, and 370ZXes. This was a gear heads paradise with cars for every taste and stripe of life. Domestics, Imports, Exotics, they were all here.

And none of the drivers were the man he was searching for.

"Now I wish I had asked Rally to join me for this. It would've made finding this guy a helluva lot easier.", mused Mr. V. as he exited his car to wander around the lot and observe the area while waving off another curious car fanatic wanting to ask the ubiquitous question 'whaddya got under the hood?'.

Ambling around without a set destination, the bounty hunter gazed at the cars on display through his darkly tinted sunglasses. Asking questions he already knew the answers to in order to keep those he suspected knew his target oblivious to his true intentions punctuated by the odd inquiry about the man he was searching for. Piecing together the snippets of information he was able to acquire during his time acting like he was an automotive gawker; Mr. V., found out that his target, a young guy by the name of Marcus Miller, rarely showed up to this impromptu gatherings but when he did, he showed up in something unexpected. One helpful guy had enthused that last time Marcus (or as he called him 'Slick') had arrived, he'd shown up in a modified Chevy Beretta GTZ.

"And this is odd, why?", Mr. V. had asked.

"Shit man, it's odd because Slick absolutely hates any car from General Motors. So for him to show up in a Chevy was an eye-opener. Of course, after he arrived, Slick told everyone who was there that night that he was never going to drive a GM car again and put that GTZ up for sale on the spot. If he shows and you get the chance to talk to him about cars, don't bring up any vehicle associated with GM. If you do, he'll shut down so fast you won't believe it", the enthusiastic man had replied..

Later, Mr. V., found out that the hyped up young man had bought the car from Marcus and was paying on it a little at a time and had sent the last payment to Marcus earlier that week.

An hour later, on his fifth circuit of the lot (this time he was just looking), Mr. V., heard a commotion over in the vicinity of his car. Curious, he started in back in that direction wondering what was going on. Shortly after he started in that direction he was caught up in a surging crowd of people going the same way. Before he could tense up, the older man felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning his head to see who it was that was trying to get his attention while still moving with the crowd Mr. V saw that it was the young man from earlier. Arching a questioning eyebrow he waited for the explanation.

"Yo dude, I've been tryin' ta catch up wit ya! He's here, Slick is here! And ya wouldn't believe what he showed up in. He's parking over next to a bitchin' blue on white Shelby Super Snake. Everybody's goin' that way and nobody knows where the hell the owner of that Shelby is.", enthused the young man.

Upon hearing what the young driver had to say, Mister Vincent almost stopped.

"Here I had been strolling around in search of this guy and he ends up parking next to my car!", griped Mr. V. as he started to increase his pace.

"Oh fer the love of high octane!"

While Mister Vincent griped to himself, his target was chuckling at the irony of it all. Here he was driving a 1993 Dodge Shelby Daytona and one of the few parking spots left just happened to have a Shelby Super Snake sitting next to it. The cameras were already flashing and Marcus could hear the comments careening through out the gathering crowd. Leaning against the side of his car with his arms folded across his chest, Marcus could only shake his head at the mysterious ways the universe sometimes worked. It was pure symmetry at work

Answering another question about the work he'd done himself or had done, Marcus grinned. Life was good. Looking around at the crowd as they gazed at the pair of totally disparate Shelby's of two different generations, Marcus had to laugh. He wondered how his Shelby Daytona's supercharged 2.7 liter V6 would fair against the bruiser Shelby Super Snake and its 5.4 liter supercharged V8.

"He'd smoke me coming and going in the quarter. In the corners, I might have a slight edge. Depends on the driver.", commented Marcus to another onlooker who'd asked a related question.

"Hey Slick!", called a voice from the middle of the approaching crowd.

Marcus looked up and saw a friend and fellow courier approaching. Finishing the short conversation he was in, Marcus straightened up and saw his buddy Sam 'Snoops' Redmond. Extending his hand with a big smile on his face, Marcus accepted the handshake from Snoops and enjoyed the look of astonishment on his face.

"Is that what I think it is, Slick"

"If you're thinking it's a Dodge Shelby Daytona, then you'd be right. However if you think that I purposely parked next to the Super Snake, then you'd be wrong. There weren't that many spots left so I picked this one. Since it's close to the exit and I have a later engagement, it suits me just fine. Didn't know I'd be next to the snake until I'd pulled in and cut the engine. Ironic, huh?", returned Marcus.

"Ironic my ass, Slick that's just plain luck on your part; the gods of all things speedy are shining down on you! Dunno where the driver of the snake is though", commented Snoops as he looked around.

Both men turned at the sound of a cleared throat. Snoops looked back and remembered the older man who'd been looking for Slick. Scratching his head with a look of chagrin on his face, Snoops turned to face the approaching person.

"I'm sorry dude. Got caught up in seeing my buddy here and almost forgot you were looking for him. I'll introduce you… ah, I didn't catch your name.",

"No problem. He's your friend. I'll wait. Besides, my car is right there.", replied Mr. V. as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and deactivated the security system on his car.

The crowd went quiet as the lights on the Super Snake flashed twice and the system was disarmed with a chirp. There was a second of stunned silence then all hell broke loose as more cameras flashed, voices rose, and the air was blistered with questions. Oblivious to it all, the two men at the center of the conundrum gazed impassively at each other. Each was trying to discover the hidden strengths and weaknesses of the other while hiding his own from the opposing scrutiny.

For Mr. Vincent, seeing the younger man confirmed a lot of intelligence he'd been receiving lately about a special courier being called in for a special transport. For Marcus, it gave him a chance to observe the prospective new addition to the security consulting firm he worked for. Those who were in attendance when the two men met each other would later swear that there was a kind of energy crackling around both men as they stood there looking at each other: A harbinger of great change? Or was it an avatar of future troubles? No one knew for sure. But something was in the air; something…evil, foreboding, and not to be tampered with or named.

Only time would tell.

And there goes Chapter 3 as it speeds by at triple digit speeds. I think that it was about damn time that I finished this chapter, its been bugging me something fierce for awhile now. Can't figure out why though, I guess that I've been caught up in the new changes in my employment and my move to Metairie a few months back Oh well, 'mine is not the reason why, mine is but to write and fly'.

Now for the usual stuff, reviews and constructive criticism are okay. In fact, I want to hear from my readers about mistakes I've made or stuff I should have changed. One thing I want to admit up front is that I gooned it on describing Riff-Raff's Browning High Power big time earlier. I'd forgotten that a Browning High Power is a single action semi-automatic pistol not a double action/single action like Marcus' FNP40. To those who know fine firearms better than me and appreciate them on a whole other level, I do apologize from the bottom of my heart. I also humble apologize to those who believe that the High Power is the best 9mm handgun out there, I screwed the pooch on that one and it won't happen again. For the record, the Browning High Power is a damn good pistol. One of the best hammer-fired self-defense/duty pistols out there. In my opinion it ranks up there with the Glock as well as 'Old Slabsides' the Colt M1911. To clarify a point, Riff-Raff's High Power is a Mark II. I hope that clears stuff up and negates the fireside discussions which version is best. Needless to say, I'm not a firearms expert. I do say that I am a legal and responsible owner of my own handgun. And that's all I'm going to say on that subject. Any questions will be referred to my file 13 box.

On another topic, how many authors and readers are happy about FFN's new enforcement policy on certain rated stories? I'm not a big fan of it and as one of the older members of this site; I wonder why the admins again decided to go this route. I was a victim of one of their earlier purges of this enforcement policy and it cost me two well-liked stories I had posted here. I'm not about to beat a dead horse but I do hope that in the future the FFN administrators take a long, hard look at the policy and make some changes that will allow authors who've become victim of the purges to repost their stories. I also hope that FFN decides to return deleted stories to their authors so we can, if need be, either edit them to fit the policy or find some place else to post said stories. Now I'm not going to leave the site but I will see if any of my present stories adhere to the policy to keep them from being deleted.

Next chapter, Marcus goes on an important delivery and Rally starts to investigate her and Riff-Raff's guardian Sniper Angel. Will Marcus make his delivery against all that is arrayed against him? Will he outwit the fuzz only to fall prey to the infamous Mr. V.? Will Rally ever meet the mysterious benefactor? Or will things go to hell in a handbasket? Who knows, only those who can read minds.

Laters for now y'all!

Knightewolfe

Knightewolfe's Lair

9/12