Red Line

By Sweetprincipale

Martin drives.

The sky is blue, the grass green, shattered glass in front of fire looks like burning rainbows, and Martin drives the van. These are the facts of Rowdy life.

Fear is yummy, people can absolutely come into your world from another dimension, provided you have some water handy, and Blackwing is full of humans who are more monstrous than they, the freakish energy draining "vampires" can ever be. These are also facts of Rowdy life, facts that sound like fiction to the outside observer, the untrained ear.

So facts are perhaps, not entirely facts?

Amanda returns from the store, her punk half-shaved hair done up in a grungy purple bow that matches her smokey purple eyelids and the grape soda she tosses to Vogel. "Where're the guys? I got everyone what they asked for," Amanda rustles the heavy shopping bags triumphantly.

Vogel looks at her with a mildly blank expression, soda landing on the ground in front of him as he makes no move to catch it. "B-boss?" he tilts his head, and that's when Amanda can see the bright dot of blood on his neck. She notices now how he's sitting slumped across the open passenger door of the van, looking casual and relaxed to passersby, but not to her.

"No, no, no, they couldn't have. Not this time, not today," Amanda is glad it's Vogel left behind, not Gripps, because at least she can heft Vogel up and slip him into the passenger seat. "Blackwing? How many? How long ago? Why didn't you come get me? No, sorry, I know you would have if you could have," she rapid fires questions as she looks at his pupils. She wants to kiss his forehead and scream simultaneously.

"Martin said run," Vogel's voice sounds like he's going to cry. "They left me because I can- tell where they are, if they're not too far away."

"That's good! You can lead us to them," Amanda jumps in the driver's seat. She has to sit all the way forward on the very edge, her steel toed black boots barely able to reach the pedals. She fishes the spare keys out from under the seat, and as she bends, she gets whiff of him. Martin. A mix of leather, cigs, alcohol, and whatever deodorant he wears, something that smells like clean man and not much else. Pure, unadulterated Martin. She's just gotten that scent back in her nose, and she's not going to let them take it away again.

"Martin drives," Vogel's speech is slurred.

"Yep, and he will again, as soon as we've got him back," Amanda has no time to comfort right now, not verbally. She holds his shaking, cold hands, and wishes she had more control of her power. She could heal him. There's something pumped in him, and she could get it out. She could say a word, and her boys would all be home with her and all the scumbags of Blackwing would be dead. Very dead.

"Vogel, just use your nose, or whatever, and tell me how to get there. Right, left, straight, turn around. Okay? That's all you have to do."

"No," Vogel is trying to speak clearly. His eyes meet hers, so young, so scared, in so much pain. "Martin said we run. They left me behind 'cause I can take you to them. To Blackwing. Then you'll be in a cage, too, Boss. It's just a trap. They want all of us together so no one can rescue us from the outside."

"The Beast? Where's Rainbow?" Amanda suddenly demands, ignoring what Vogel said. It's noble to say, "Save yourselves," and she knows Martin doesn't think she needs saving, exactly. Heck, anyone and everyone needs saving from the human monsters in that place.

"They - there was smoke and darts. Sneaky this time. They thought you were with us. Rainbow was gassed unconscious right away. She's not- you know, human exactly. They grabbed her, thinking she was you. When they found out they didn't have you, that there was a second girl, they shoved me back out of their black van and left. See? Sneaky. Decoys."

"So, we'll be sneaky, too," Amanda pushes her foot down. The van grunts, grumbles and squeals to the red line.

"What are we doing?"

"Going to get our people back, trap or no trap. I'm going as fast as this hunk of metal will take us, so you'd better give me good directions, or I'll just put us through a brick wall at a hundred miles per hour," Amanda warns.

Vogel yelps, suddenly beginning to wake up as the speedometer bounces in the red, and Amanda's eyes aren't on the road. He's going to die like this. Martin wouldn't want that. "Left!" he screams and the van careens as ordered.

Martin isn't going in without a fight. Last time, they put a needle in his neck and he fought them off, until they put twenty in, until he was so drugged he couldn't hold his eyelids open and his glasses were missing. This time, he slumps like they got him after one little jab. Ha. It makes him feel tipsy and blurry, but he could still overpower them, if he wanted them to throw more poison at him. Same with Gripps and Cross, who have fought with him the longest, who can read his strategies while they're still forming in his brain. Vogel is actually the only one who hasn't had the practice, since he escaped the last time, so he's going wild, and they're gassing him and jabbing him and Martin can't cry out and tell him to fake that it's working. That'd throw the whole plan. The leader's head and heart are a heavy jumble. They couldn't fight off these guys and not create a commotion. And if that happened- Amanda would come out of the store down the block, and she'd be taken, too.

He couldn't let them get her. He could happily rot in that cage if Amanda's safety were guaranteed. But it wouldn't be. Blackwing had heard about her power by now, he guessed, and that meant she wouldn't be safe until they were all dust. Plan B.

The Rowdies would get their moment and they'd raise holy hell on the road, cause a crash if they had to, overpower every one of the goons and get out. Just had to wait for the right time, and wait for the drugs to wear off completely. Given their accelerated metabolisms, that might be in… five more minutes.

"Three minutes, 46 seconds," Gripps announces flatly.

"Thanks, brother," Martin whispers, eyes meeting Gripps', then Cross's

"They're awake, Priest," one man in full riot gear speaks into his shoulder com.

"Gas 'em back under, then," an impatient voice crackles.

"Can't in a moving vehicle, Sir. Contaminate the air and effect the agents."

"Hypodermics, then, Son! Project Incubus isn't anything you want brought into the facility when it's awake!"

"Two minutes and falling," Gripps tests out his restraints.

Martin finds he can move his elbows. But that's not the best tool. These fools gas 'em and drug 'em so they can't feed. Then they protect themselves in all sorts of kevlar and jackboots, acting like energy don't come out if the fabric's thick enough. Martin chuckles, a deep, low ominous chuckle that would make strong men flee for the exits. He smiles. In his box, there's a real shortage of exits.

"No need for needles, man," Cross lies beautifully, effortlessly. He always sounds crazy enough that people assume he's honest. "Can't- barely breathe."

"You cause lung function to cease, Osmond ain't gonna be to happy with you boys," Martin lets his head fall forward. All eyes down. They're looking at each other's feet. Wait to see the toe curl and the ball set, the stance that signals take off is about to occur.

"One minute forty," Gripps mouths, and only Martin and Cross can hear him.

"Straight on this road! Amanda! Slow down!"

"Not yet," Amanda weaves and tells the Universe that it needs to distract any cops, please. She'll pay it back. She has the apprentice wand. She has the power to look between dimensions and find the paranormal that needs to be united. She'll do it all and she'll stop complaining about it, if the Universe will keep the cops off her back while she speeds and drives like a crazy person- and if the Universe protects her little family.

"Ung," Rainbow sits up, and immediately curls into a ball.

"'S okay," Cross whispers to the frightened female.

"Sick head. Sick tummy," her croaky voice is pitiful.

The way Martin feels about Amanda, correction- used to feel, before it deepened- that's the way Gripps and Cross feel about their pretty little bird lady. She's tough and crazy, like them. The way she whimpers in pain and fear is threatening to destroy the whole plan. Play it cool, boys, he thinks as hard as he can.

"You better pull over," Gripps says. "She's going to hurl. Vomit everywhere! Rainbow vomit! On your shoes! In the seats! Not good!"

"Driver, halt," one goon in the back sighs and roughly grabs Rainbow by the elbows. Cross lets out a murderous bark that he turns into a cough.

"His lungs ain't workin' after that gas. You wanna get him some air? 'Fore he dies on you and you have to explain that one to Mr. Priest?" Martin suggests innocently.

The van is emptying nicely. Two guards are on Cross. One is on the very weak Rainbow. The driver, the shotgun guard, and four others are left, one on each side of him, one on each side of Gripps.

His foot takes the runner's crouch. Gripps' already wild eyes go buggy.

He wants to howl, but he has to keep it in his head.

Amanda floors it. She hears the howl as clear as she hears the punk rock blaring from the speakers. "Martin!" she hollers.

"Where?" Vogel peers out the windshield.

"Tell me!" But Amanda knows he's straight ahead. "I'm coming, we're coming…"

Martin roared as blue and green energy streamed out of the guards beside Gripps, while Gripps got the ones flanking him. The driver, already pulled over, turned around in his seat, pistol aimed. Gripps shoulder chucked one of the now half-conscious guards into the line of fire. Hope that bulletproof vest works.

"Out!" Martin ordered, and they stumbled, watching Cross draining the three guards on the side of the deserted highway, and eagerly pitching in.

He stops because he can hear her scream. "Martin!"

He has to turn and look, his heart all tangled in chains of dread, because if they got her- well then, his plan didn't work. They should have fought harder to begin with. But he can't see her. "Drummer?" he breathes.

The dimensions have lines, think blue and black lines that separate them. They're in the same dimension. A red thread holds them together. She can hear his soft whisper. There are only four people in the world who call her Drummer. Only one who says it like it's the closing to a prayer.

"There!" Vogel screams and points as an old auxiliary road comes into view. "Down there, so close I can smell them! Aw, man, there's stuff goin' down!"

"Good. Lunch!" Amanda takes a bump too hard and the van is airborne.

The Universe drops it on the jerk who has the muzzle of his gun aiming at Rainbow's head, just as Rainbow pukes and Cross uses his own body to knock her out of the way. Her pants are ripped by the fender, but she's alive and well. "Tummy feels better!" she proclaims. "Clothes are mess!"

Martin has his hands bound in steel, and he can't snap out of the big cuffs without a little help. He hugs her with his chest and his head, burying his cheek in her hair as her fingers press into his neck, his arms, as if making sure all of him is there.

"Thanks," he whispers.

Amanda's eyes are shiny with relief. "You guys did all the work."

"We left you somethin' to snack on in the front seat," Martin nods to Vogel, who looks elated and guilty at the same time.

"She wouldn't run," Vogel hisses on his way to finish off the last remaining guard.

"We were gonna make our way out, as you can see," Martin explains.

"I'm just providing a timely getaway," Amanda explains in return.

"You drove the van? Martin never lets anyone else drive!" Cross looks momentarily indignant.

"Let me get the bolt cutters," Amanda rolls her eyes.

Amanda frees Martin, Martin frees Cross and Gripps. The guards are comatose. Martin is uncertain if they'll ever fully recover. "Agent 35? Come in. Shoulda been her by now," Priest's voice sighs resignedly on the com. "Not a patient man," his voice is a warning singsong.

Martin and Amanda have the same idea. They share a glance, and Martin rips the com out of the kevlar vest as easily as tearing tissue paper. "We ain't comin' in, Priest."

"Well, well. Martin. How's the family?"

"Pissed off," Amanda interjects.

"Ah, is that Ms. Brotzman? I was so hopin' you could join us, my dear."

Amanda's fingers go tingly. Martin sniffs suddenly, his eyes wide. "Drummer-" he queries- but too late, something is happening.

Amanda is possessed. She doesn't know how else to describe it. There's a ditch a few yards away from the vans on this deserted backstretch of highway, and her eyes are fixed, dilated and the pupils are misbehaving.

"Boys! On deck!" Martin roughly calls as he follows Drummer to the ditch, to watch her hold the com in one hand and plunge her clenched fist into the dirty water.

Priest knows Blackwing is a secure facility, but ever since his face was sliced in half, he's been doubling and tripling his personal security measures. His office is essentially a bunker, a panic room. There's no way on earth that a fist could or should shoot up from his water bottle, snag his collar, and drag him gasping, filthy, and wet into an unfriendly circle of four energy vampires. Four men who hate him, and the woman who he stole them from… twice. And some other strange creature, covered in vomit.

"I thought you should come to us this time," Amanda smiles icily.

"No mercy," Martin announces. He looks at Amanda. She won't like this.

She remembers Vogel's broken hand. She remembers him kneeling across from her in the Wendimoor woods, certain he was about to die, and giving her a weak smile. She remembers feeling the freezing blackness of Martin's cell, feeling Gripps' mind panicking, sensing Cross's desperate, painful hunger. She remembers a hail of bullets coming at them as they cowered in a bathtub, unarmed. Priest had been the one holding the gun.

She remembers her boys aren't the only ones he's done this to, there are sweet innocent people like Dirk. There are bystanders like Rainbow. There are dozens of families ripped in pieces because of this human excrement. "Only what's fair, Martin," Amanda whispers.

Martin's jaw works and he shakes his head, a growl of protest. Then Amanda meets Martin's eyes. "Has he ever shown mercy?" she asks simply.

"No," a resounding chorus.

"Then no mercy is fair."

To their credit, they don't kill him. They leave him alive. But he's not Priest anymore. He's someone who used to know his own name. Who used to work for Blackwing. He's reduced to the same neural functions as an amoeba, and if he ever recovers, it will be many, many years from now.

"Wow, Boss. That was sneaky," Vogel breaks the solemn silence as they walk away from the pile of motionless bodies. " Bringing him outta Blackwing instead of us going in to stomp that jerk! I bet no one even knows he's missing!"

"We'd still better move," Martin climbs in the driver's seat. Amanda takes the passenger's spot. There's a brief moment as they pause, Vogel, Gripps, and Cross are getting the Beast clean clothes and bagging up the dirty ones, and using a thinner wire cutter to get the bracelets of the cuffs off of each wrist. Martin will worry about his after everyone else has been seen to.

"You drove, huh?"

"Vogel was in no shape to," Amanda explains quickly.

"Mhm. Well, you got it here in one piece, at the right moment, too," he hesitates. "Drummer…"

"Yes?" she answers too quickly.

"I thought I could hear you-"

"I heard you, too!" she leans over to him suddenly, hugging him hard, unable to stop herself from shaking. "I told you I was coming."

"I believed you," Martin hugs her back, one arm sliding around her shoulders.

"I know you said to run-"

"So they wouldn't get you. Not 'cause I didn't think you could save us. I know you can."

"You save me, too." Her fingers slide around the metal of the cuff, and she's listening to the Universe, she's hearing a wise old voice that tells her she can control the reality of her world by forcing the reality of her mind over it. And suddenly- the steel is silk, a thin red line, wrapped around his arm, spooling gently around her finger.

"Clever, Drummer," he whistles and looks at her with stunned awe in his eyes, a look that is very hard for the jaded man to produce.

"Every town we go in," Amanda says this idea like it's been waiting to come out for years, but it has just now cemented into words, "I want to do what I just did. Spring someone innocent. Pull someone else bad. Keep moving. Keep them guessing. I know the Universe has other jobs for us to do, and Dirk wants help sometimes. This would be side work. Part of - part of the Rowdy Three Legacy. Messing shit up and saving people."

"Part of our legacy," Martin corrects and puts the van in gear as the troop topples in the back. "You're one of us, you know that."

She knows she's adopted by them, she's part of the tight knit unit, but she was never a "project", her level of involvement with Blackwing will always be less, no matter how long they're together. "Yeah, but I mean, I never had to go through what you went through, I never had to-"

"Drummer. You're one of us. Come on, now," he meets her eyes with a serious grin, but a saucy twinkle in his eyes. "I mean, you drove the van."

She smiles.

"We're in! Let's get away from this place as fast as we can!" Gripps demands, thumping on the panels in the back. Whoops and more thuds show it's a shared sentiment.

"Done!" Martin agrees. He and Amanda are still holding hands, clumsily tangled together in a loop of silk, as he puts his scuffed black boot on the pedal and sends the van screaming to the red line, one more time.