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To Protect and Serve - Ch.3 Posted 3/15/2019


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15 hours ago, WrestlejockCT said:

Wow! Just....wow. That is THE most intense cliffhanger I've read in a long, long time. Great writing, Gym Predator!

 

12 hours ago, W0lven said:

The whole story is intense and really good! The predator coming out to play and make pay others was great - I guess now that an attempt on Gabriel was made, he's going to be murderous tho


Thanks all.   I have 7.3 already written actually.  The first rough draft of this wound up to be 39 pages BEFORE I ever started a single revision.  And my revisions tend to make chapters longer, not shorter.  So, the only way anyone would read it, or I could post it, was to split it in half.  But it is done.  And it made sense to split it on the cliffhanger - page 17 of the pre-revision draft, lol.

Hmmmm --- the Predator.  What to say about him.  I guess this is food for thought.  I am guessing that I have painted the picture enough of what's happening that you can anticipate why John would throw Gabriel away like that.  What exactly is going down.  Put yourself in that spot.  How would you feel?  What would you do in that moment?   Now, dump those feelings into John, and add to it a lifetime of training in a body like he has.  What would you be capable of?  Add to it one other emotion.  Fear.  What then?
 

Then look at Gabriel.  He has been changing too.  Maybe not physically like John, but he has been changing mentally and spiritually.  We know he is afraid of something.  Well two things.  He has said them already in the story.   What would you do if you were him in that moment?   They are both very much afraid, each a different aspect of fear perhaps, but fear nonetheless.

This next scene is the crux of the whole story.  I have been planning or mulling this one scene for over a year now.  And through circumstances well beyond my control (aka 2020) it had taken on dimensions I never anticipated.  I have let one person read what is now 7.3, and you're right.  It is intense.  VERY intense.  The trigger warnings are there for a reason.  But the question is an intense one too.   

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Trigger Warning:  Chapter 7- Part 3 contains instances of violence.  Some of these instances move into graphic depictions of criminal actions and serious injuries.  MEANING - this isn’t fap material, but it has to be here to keep the story on course.  Anyone who may be triggered by such depictions are warned that they are coming.  

Further, I will again caution that the lead character in this story is a detective sergeant in law enforcement who will be involved in these events.  No political commentary on any side is implied or allegory intended.  This is a work of fiction.  

Authors Notes:

  • I am including links to songs and images that will enhance the experience of reading the story.  Please feel free to follow the links.
  • Special thanks to SeaMusc for his kindness in allowing me to set this story in the same universe as several of his characters and borrowing them.  Please take a read of their story - The Impossible Discovery  to understand what happened 5 years before these events.

 


Chapter 7 - How Did You Love - Part 3 - Can I Be Your Superhero?


“I was an ordinary boy / Until I broke the rules, my life destroyed, my life destroyed" ~ Unknown Brain - "Superhero"


 

When it all fell apart, it started so innocently. So innocently… 

 

 It was nearly 11 pm when John and Gabriel left the restaurant, the last two of the group to leave.  They were very nearly the last customers to leave all together.  Both glass doors opened, with Gabriel easily passing through on one side.  John, on the other hand, had to do his usual twisting and bending to exit.  They were both laughing, deep in conversation, as they started walking toward the parking lot and John’s Jeep.

 

“My God, even I have not seen you scarf down that much.  Do you EVER get satisfied eating anymore?” Gabriel said in jest.

 

John put his massive mitt of a hand gently onto Gabriel’s neck and back and rubbed,  It was the best he could do given their difference in size, to walking with his arm around his lover’s  shoulder.  “Is THAT my fault?  You are the one who gave me this appetite.”  John was barely containing his laughter.

 

“I will admit - the thought did cross my mind to check the chef for a stroke when you ordered the entire menu.”

 

John feigned a half innocent smirk.  “But, but. Sushi are such small little th--”

 

The next moments were a blur. Just a few seconds. Thirty at best. Yet, those seconds seared themselves onto the mind of Gabriel York as surely as if they had been inscribed with a white hot branding iron.  Frame by frame, imprinted forever.  

 

Faster than Gabriel could see, almost faster than he could perceive with any of his senses, he felt John’s hand leave his back and spread across his chest.  Gabriel felt his shirt pull tight and then --- a sudden rush of strength he had never felt in his life as his feet left the ground.  Gabriel felt himself flying helplessly backwards as he was literally thrown away from John.  From walking happily to sailing through the sky took less than a second.  

 

The next thing he knew, Gabriel felt himself hit tolerably hard on a large pile of landscaping mulch in a parking lot divider - the better part of eight meters from where he had been.  He found himself laying on his back, looking up at the night sky. Gabriel began to raise up with the intention to ask what the hell happened.  But that flashed out of his mind as he heard three crisp, yet wet sounding snaps.  Snaps loud enough to echo around the parking lot, and almost at the same instant - a scream.  A blood curdling, nightmarish, male scream of agony.  Gabriel went white.  He had only heard such a high pitched wail once before in his life.  When John had been on the table being given his new augmented nervous system - and everything else that came with it.  That was a sound he would never forget that chilled him to the bone, that haunted his dreams still … except this time, the sound was wrong.  This was not that scream.  It was slightly different.  The pitch was wrong.  Instinctively Gabriel knew, whoever it was in such pain, it was not John….

 


 

John couldn't remember a moment in his life when he had been any happier than right here, right now.  The show was a thrill, sure, and he loved it.  He wanted more of it. But for all the ego-stroking and thrills of the stage and the cheers, there was only one place where he was truly happy, in the company of Gabriel York.  Watching his little guy in the audience tonight made it all worth it.  Eating with him, driving with him, sharing the smallest of things with him, and best of all cuddling in bed with him.  Sharing the beauties and thrills of this world with him.  One day, growing old with him, sitting in a rocking chair watching the sunset with him knowing they had both LIVED and LOVED to the full.  Leaving that restaurant, John couldn't imagine life without him.  He had been close to losing him once.  When he walked though those restaurant doors, watching the sexy little fuck laugh and smile, knowing they were going back to a bed right now for more bliss, he redoubled his vow to never lose him again. 

 

“I will admit - the thought did cross my mind to check the chef for a stroke when you ordered the entire menu.”  Gabriel replied.  

 

John almost bellowed laughing, but he stifled it, trying very hard to keep it in.  It was so true though.  John remembered the look on the chef's face when he saw eleven mountains of muscle come into his establishment and the realization that he was to feed them all.  Then, to hear each order piles of food only to be topped by his own order - "one of everything please."  The chef looked like he was going to need to shut down his entire business for days to physically recover.  It was so innocently hilarious that look.

 

John feigned one of his patented "who me" smirks and brought out his best oblivious voice.  “But, but. Sushi are such small little th--”

 

/Be Vigilant at All Times/  /Evaluate Potential Dangers/ Out of the corner of his eye, a glint of metal caught John's attention.  The mental warning klaxon went off as soon as his eyes focused and drank in the data.  Short, wiry man.  He moved like he had been through plenty of fights and the scars on his face left from punches agreed.  Experience taught him these guys were stronger than they looked.  Obvious homemade, prison quality tattoos. Hollow, outline teardrops from the left eye, a single filled teardrop at the right. 5150 on his bare arm.  ACAB and EWMN on the left and right hands, below clinched knuckles.  John focused even more.

 

/Assess the threat./  This was wrong.  All wrong. The guy was moving too fast, breathing too hard, eyes shifting too much.  Emotions were ramping up on his face - mentally conjuring "courage," he was working up to something, legs shifting faster, hint of starting to run.  Attack… and then John saw it again.  The glint of metal in the street lights. Saw the knife...

 

Something happened to John Declann in that moment. Something primitive deep in his brain kicked on.  Fight or flight processed in milliseconds.  

 

/Fight/

 

/Priority One - Secure Your Own Safety/  The unique biological machine John lived inside of fully engaged.  Adrenaline poured through his body.  Time slowed down, his perceptions expanded.  For the very first time since the procedure changed him, John Declann the man, Detective Declann the trained cop, and the Predator, all came on at once, fused, and worked in concert.  

 

/Priority Two - Safely Secure and Remove Civilians Where Possible./ John/Predator scanned the area. It was almost instinctual what to do when his eyes locked on the target. A big pile of fresh cedar chip mulch meant for landscaping. Some part of his neocortex saw the quadratic equation of position along a parabolic path, derivatives for velocity and acceleration.  Free body diagrams.  Non-inertial reference frames.  Gabriel's mass, acceleration due to gravity.  Atmospheric drag… It all went toward calculating one thing - the strength needed to get Gabriel there, clear of the threat.  It all calculated unconsciously, done in microseconds.  Conclusion - It was a distance yes, but doable without serious harm to Gabriel.  

 

John/Predator's hand took Gabriel by the shirt front and in a smooth motion, lifted.  He twisted himself slightly, aimed, and threw. The grown man felt no more heavy than a child's rubber ball as he left John’s hand, like pitching ping pong balls toward a bucket on Bozo Circus on TV as a kid.  He knew as soon as he saw Gabriel fly out of his hand, he would land exactly where he was aiming, safe.  Removed from danger. John/Predator was already turning back toward the attacker.  From that first glint that caught his attention until now had taken less than a second.  

 

/Assess The Threat/  John/Predator focused on the threat like a laser range finder.  He saw shock, fear at witnessing just what John had done.  Saw him in the first instances of starting to accept flight as the proper action.  Saw the legs and body of the attacker start to turn, but it was like watching in slow motion.  

 

In the now warp speed processing of his adrenaline-fueled mind, John felt as much as thought:  /Fleeing. Felon. Imminent danger to human life./

 

/Fight/ 

 

The machine’s legs unleashed, and he took off running straight toward the man with the knife.  John had run before, allowing his enhanced legs to move without constraints, but never like this. He flew with a speed no human his size had any business moving. No one could have known, not even John/Predator, that he could cross tens of meters from a dead stop in two seconds, yet with two ticks of the clock, he had crossed a quarter of the parking lot.  He had simply willed it to be and it happened.

 

The attacker was totally unprepared for the freight train barreling toward him.  John/Predator was so fast, the man had barely had time to see him coming, to decide not to flee but to fight himself, and to begin to turn the knife into an attack position when John/Predator was on him. 

 

/Eliminate the Threat/ Seeing the knife so close, seeing it start to turn toward him, a cold rage gripped the muscle giant.  This tiny thing -- this insect wanted to attack him, attack Gabriel.  The micro-bastard wanted to take Gabriel from him.  But the bastard was so slow in its movements. Hopelessly slow.  John/Predator’s hand shot forward and grasped most of the attacker's right forearm.  Squeezing at full power, he twisted the attacker's wrist and forearm, rotating them around. He turned the arm until he forced the hand open, causing the knife to fall to the ground…. 

 

/Eliminate The Threat/  … And John/Predator kept turning.  

 

Through the rage, the sensation was strangely like snapping a bare, dry twig.  John/Predator felt his muscles the force dump in, felt its arm storing the tension, felt it quiver in his hand as it tried to resist, felt it warp, and felt it give in when it could no longer resist more power.  There was an almost simultaneous double snap, followed as quickly by another - a pop, sharp like a spark from dry wood in a fire.  Yet also wet, as a chef deboning a chicken carcass.  The bones of the forearm gave way and the elbow dislocated.  The attacker let go of a hellish, primal scream - pain, agony, fear, shock all rolled into one - but the sound barely registered to John/Predator.  Only one thing registered to him, /Eliminate the Threat/ to Gabriel.

 

John/Predator had not even released the mangled arm before he grasped the attacker around the throat, trapezius, and collarbone with his left hand and easily push-pressed up.  The small body sailed into the air as John/Predator lifted and extended his arm above his head, lofting the attacker in a fashion akin to setting a volleyball.  When John/Predator did release the broken arm, he instantaneously pulled back with his right hand and drove a palm strike straight into the center of the attacker's torso.  There was a further audible crunch of ribs breaking clean in half at the point of impact.  John/Predator allowed the momentum of both the vault and the follow through to work as physics dictated.  He released its neck, spiking the volleyball that was the attacker away from him.  

 

The attacker flew back so fast it almost split the air.  But even as that being who felt as light as a volleyball flew, John was running after.  He would /Eliminate the Threat./  He was white-hot blind fury of instinct and ice-cold harnessed rage of training simultaneously.  Attacking him, John knew he could handle, but anything toward Gabriel… THIS NOTHING HAD ENDANGERED GABRIEL.  Had tried to hurt him.  Had tried to take him away.  NO, the fury said.  Just no, the rage seconded in concert.

 

The attacker crashed shoulder and back first with a dull thud into the paved open parking lot in shock, gasping and barely conscious.  The momentum of the landing was so strong that the being rolled several times before coming to rest face down on the tarmac.  But, the rolling motion hadn't ceased before John/Predator was there on top again.

 

John/Predator’s hand reached for and half-encased a tiny rear thigh.  He twisted it tight, almost to the point of breaking. Using his grip to hold the limp form in place, he drove a knee into the lower back and pelvis before him full force - all of his over 400 pounds of weight driven by all the ungodly power his legs could generate.  It was nothing short of a sledgehammer blow.  There was another loud crack as John/Predator felt a hip twist free, dislocating, followed by the snap/pop of a hamstring ripping loose from its insertion.  In a frighteningly beautiful, fluid motion that his decades of martial arts training and enhanced flexibility allowed, John/Predator released the floundering leg and grabbed the back of the head.  The attacker’s head easily palmed, he pulled back, raising half of the body off of the ground, and drove it into the asphalt, heralded with a wet splash and crack of an eye orbit breaking, the eye inside compromised.

 

John/Predator released his grip on the head with a contemptuous flick, the momentum so strong it rolled the attacker over into the back.  The face was depressed, partially deformed.  Haggard breaths blew a fine mist of blood with each labored exhale.  But John/Predator didn't stop.  His fists struck time and again, and with each blow more and more dark mist flew from the mouth, coating the both of them in gore.

 

It was then that the fury in John/Predator saw the opportunity. 

 

 /Eliminate The Threat/  One giant paw grasped the bleeding thing by the neck and chin.  John/Predator’s brain calculated and rotated the unconscious head just so - to line up the strike.  To a man of ordinary strength,  it would have broken a nose and little more.  But HE was FAR beyond ordinary.  With the damage already done, it would drive bone fragments into the brain after the skull cracked.  The threat to Gabriel would be eliminated ...

 

A sound pierced the hot/cold fury/rage. A voice barely registered, perfectly audible, maybe even yelling, but it felt so far away.  So far, but familiar somehow… 

 

"John.  JOHN NO!!! NOOOOOOOOO…" John/Predator pulled his hand and arm back to deliver the final blow.  But as it reached its apex, a shadow fell over the head and shoulders he was aiming for.  John/Predator’s eyes registered something moving in front of him, in the way….

 


 

Gabriel raised himself to sitting and then to standing as his eyes grew WIDE.  The sight before him was both astounding and terrifying.  It made him - or any human - freeze in place, a deep instinct left behind from our prey ancestors when confronted with a predator.  A small, broken body, dead weight, obviously unconscious, being loomed over by some… some THING that looked simultaneously like his beloved boyfriend and some hypermasculine comic drawings of a gigantic, over-muscled humanoid cryptid.  He saw the small man's head being raised - no, half of his body being raised off the ground - with one hand and then rammed down into the pavement.

 

In that singular moment, the person John always said was inside Gabriel York came to the fore.  He ran … He ran so hard straight toward the two people. Ran as fast as his own trained runner's body could take him.  Ran to outrun the stalking, scythed, hooded spectre of shadow he could feel coming if he did not stop it. As he was closing the distance, horror and fear gripped him, as he saw John land blow after blow, each impact greeted with a fresh spray of dark liquid silhouetted against the street lamplight.  

 

Gabriel willed himself faster, willed the aches of his impact from John throwing him to vanish.  His legs screamed as they crossed the meters, but Gabriel would not listen.  He only listened to two words. Run harder.

 

Faster than he had ever run in his life, but slower than he wanted, Gabriel closed to within range of the enraged muscle giant and his prey.   Gabriel saw John's massive hand grasping at the tiny man’s chin and throat.  Saw him turning the head.  Saw him lining up his fist.  Something in Gabriel just knew - John would not stop until he had caved in the man's face.  Fury would not let him stop.  Fear would not let him stop.  Only one emotion might make him stop.

 

"John.  JOHN NO!!! NOOOOOOOOO…"  Gabriel screamed, trying to pierce the rage, to get through to the man he knew was inside that machine.  For a long time now, Gabriel had been afraid.  He had some small tastes of what John was really capable of.  But, now - in the moment, seeing it unleashed, for some reason, he was not afraid.  He was not afraid at all.  He was determined.  He had to stop it.  He could not let this happen.  HE WOULD NOT LET IT HAPPEN.

 

With most persons in this position, what Gabriel was going to do would never have worked.  The space between the weapon that was the fist and the target would be too close.  But for once, John being so massive made it possible, gave a sliver of weakness.  A way in.  There was enough space for Gabriel to make it.  And if he had to endure what that fist could do to him … the choice was made.

 

With all that he had, Gabriel launched himself into the air, diving head first like a runner taking a base, while trying to dodge a bullet from the pitcher aimed straight at him.  He vaulted across the broken man's head and shoulders, covering them with his own body.  “JOHN.  STOP.  NO!! PLEASE JOHN!!”

 


 

John/Predator’s fist -  palm open and cocked up, fingers braces -  launched.  Propelling that hand forward was power of a level that even he had never applied before to anything- on duty, in the gym, experimenting with what he could do in private.  Nowhere.  

 

/Eliminate the threat/  He saw the shadow, heard the voice, but it did not penetrate the rage -- at first.  But then something just as primal, just as instinctual, but even stronger than the Predator’s laser focused rage triggered deep in his mind.  It resolved, it cracked the rage just a bit.  It poured into his consciousness through the crack. Love.  Gabriel.  Oh My God. 

 

The machine tried his best to stop, but he couldn’t pull back the fist in time.  Only one thing left.  John/Predator shifted his entire body weight with everything he had left.  The fist never stopped its flight downward, but now that fist was off course.  Redirecting. Here it comes. 

 

John/Predator’s hand slammed into the asphalt a few inches beyond Gabriel’s prone body.  The black tar and gravel conglomerate depressed, rippled, and cracked as John/Predator hit it, pressing a fist sized pit into the parking lot.  A massive electric wave of pain, the first true pain John had felt in months, roared from the hand, up his arm, and into his brain.  For the first time since John stopped talking in mid word when his instincts triggered, a sound escaped his lips - a deep, resonant yell as searing, thumping waves from his hand overtook him.  The force was so strong that even with his mass, his body partially rebounded off the pavement.  He pulled himself back to a sitting position, raising his fist up, shaking and trembling beyond his control.  He looked down to see Gabriel pleading with him, his upturned face sprayed with droplets of blood from the broken man’s wheezing.  Trails of wet were tracing down from his eyes through the red.  Gabriel was crying.  “JOHN STOP!!  PLEASE JOHN. NO MORE!”  John turned his head again to see the blood on his fist, looking down and seeing most of his body covered in it.  He turned back to see Gabriel and the thing -- no, the two men beneath him at his knees.  The cold rage across John’s face shattered.  The handsome man’s eyes grew wide.  Shock, terror, shame consumed him.  

 

John fumbled backwards hand over foot, roiling away from the two almost like a crab walking on sand - his eyes never leaving the scene he had wrought.  Anguish and guilt washed over him as realized what he had done.  John slowed to a stop several meters away as voluntary movement became harder and harder, the after effects of the adrenaline dump taking hold.  His whole body began to tremble and shake, his mouth agape, stuck in a silent scream.  All voluntary movement had ceased except his hand, fingers flexing open and closed in time with the slightly lessened pulses of pain.  But that pain was nothing compared to the pain springing from John’s heart and soul.  

 

What he had done?  What he had maybe already done…

 

Gabriel saw the change.  He had a chance to get through.  “JOHN.” Gabriel’s voice broke in open weeping. “COME BACK TO ME JOHN.  I AM GOING TO BE ALRIGHT.”  A sob and deep swallow made him pause just briefly.  “YOU WILL BE ALRIGHT, MY LOVE." Gabriel sobbed again but took a breath, fast, tried to compose himself a tiny bit.  He barely succeeded.  "YOU STAY RIGHT THERE, YOU HEAR ME?  DO NOT MOVE.  JUST BREATHE.  STAY THERE.”  John obeyed, but it wasn’t out of comprehension of Gabriel’s words.  He was more like an open computer program searching for a command, any command, to follow, and when he got one, he complied.

 

John seemed short-circuited, his augmented neurons stuck.  His single hand, covered in blood, still hanging in the air.  His eyes froze as he watched blankly …

 


 

“911… what is your emergency?”

 

“HELLO. YES.  Ahhhh… My name is Gabriel York.  I am a neurosurgeon at University Medical Center in Denver.  Ahhh… I need to report a severe physical assault.  Blunt force trauma to one of the people involved.  I am rendering aid to that person, but his injuries are extremely severe.  I need paramedics and a LifeLine helicopter to a trauma center immediately or this man is going to die.”

 

“Have you been hurt Doctor?  Are you alright?”

 

“I am fine. No injuries”

 

“Are you in any immediate danger Dr. York?  Is the person who assaulted you still nearby or has he fled?”

 

“I am rendering aid to the attacker.  The person who defended me is still here, but no one is in danger from him.  I need that response NOW!”

 

“Can you tell me your location? Where are you?”

 

“Uri Sushi near Fort Carson.  I’m not from here, I don’t know the street.”

 

“That’s close enough, Doctor.  I have EMS and police responding now.  Can you tell me any injuries you see?  Does he have a working airway?”

 

“I am working on an unobstructed airway now.  Damn… [A shout to someone standing nearby]  You.  Yes, you.  Go into the restaurant and get me the sharpest sushi knife the chef has, some saki, and some hard plastic tube or hose.  I do not care what it is just a hollow tube. [Pause] Well, you tell him unless he wants someone dead in his parking lot, he will get it to me now! [Back to the 911 operator].  Alright - injuries that I can see - crushed eye orbit structure on the right side, including frontal and maybe maxillary sinuses. Ruptured globe injury to the right eye.  Ahh… Sluggish pupillary response in the left eye.  Possible brain injury but I can’t be sure with the right side compromised like it is.  Not without some scans.  Numerous broken ribs with evidence of internal organ injuries and internal bleeding.  From the sounds, definitely a collapsed lung at least.  Displaced, closed, possibly comminuted fracture of the right radius and ulna with right elbow dislocation.  Fuck, fingertips already turning cyanotic.  Dislocated hip and probable pelvic fractures.  I do not know if there is vertebral compromise in the lower lumbar or sacral spine.  I know there is more, but that is what I see at the moment.”

 

“EMS is 5 minutes out.  Police will be there before that.  What do you look like so I can inform the responding officers?”

 

“Polo, jeans -- ah - fuck it.  I’ll be the one hunched over a broken body trying to save this man’s life.  [Addressing someone nearby]  Thank you.  I am going to be establishing an airway now.  Make sure those officers do not get in the way if they see me with a knife.”

 

“EMS is 4 minutes out.  I have a Lifeline helicopter with full staff leaving now.  They tell me ETA is 10 minutes.

 

"HEY SIRI.  CALL CODE 34."

 

"Doctor.  What was that?

 

"Calling Emergency Code 34"

 

"Gabriel what the - "

 

"No time, Jack.  An incident.  It's John.  I need an unclassified response team to this location on GPS tracker.  And I need you to call a Colonel Warren Dougherty, Air Force Military Police.  Use whatever authorization we need. Tell them I have nuclear launch codes and I am going to blow up the world if you have to.   But tell the Colonel it's John and I need him here.  Hey, 911.  I have an emergency battlefield type cricothyrotomy in place.  Breathing is still labored, but there.  He will need a chest tube thoracostomy to help inflate that lung to secure both the best I can.  JACK, I need him here now.  NOW JACK.  This is life and death.  For God's sake, don't let them shoot him. Please Jack, don't let them kill him."

 

"911?!? Gabriel, by all that’s holy-"

 

“NOW JACK. Colonel Warren Dougherty.”

 

“Doctor York, who are you talking to?”

 

"Not, now.  I can hear a siren.  I believe American police.  I am about to create an incision for a makeshift chest tube.  So please God, don't let them shoot me because I am cutting the man open with a sushi knife."

 

"Is the suspect - the other one - still there?"

 

"Yes, he is a few meters behind me sitting. They'll know who immediately.  They’ll be scared.  But don't hurt him.  He won't resist.  Please."

 

"Less than 30 seconds Doctor York.  EMS is two minutes."

“JOHN, JOHN THE POLICE ARE ALMOST HERE.  JUST DO WHAT THEY SAY. PLEASE JOHN, FOLLOW YOUR TRAIN--”

 

“OK, I have a makeshift chest tube inserted.  A lot of blood is draining.  This man is going to need blood and thoracic surgery as soon as possible.  Can you radio that to the trauma team?”

 

“Police reports he is pulling into the parking lot Doctor.  Just identify yourself. He knows you are there and should let you keep working.  EMS is two minutes out.  I will stay on the line until the police tell me the other suspect is in custody, you are safe, and EMS is there.  EMS will be able to put you into direct contact with the trauma flight team.  Is that OK?”

“Of course, just please, please, don’t hurt him.  His foot is getting cold.  I am going to have to try and reduce this hip somehow or he is going to lose the leg before they get to it, God help me.”

 

“As long as he complies, he will be taken into custody safely…”

 


 

John sat half illuminated, half in shadow, at the edge of a streetlamp.  His great body was shaking, looking like he was shivering in the warm June night, tears rolling down his face.  The only voluntary motion he seemed to have control over was his eyes, as they shifted back and forth between his bloody hands and watching Gabriel in the distance.  His body may have been frozen, but his mind … his mind was racing.  But, it was racing around in circles, coming to the same place over and over.  He might wander for a moment, detachedly observing the outside world. But, beyond the little man in front of him, the outside world meant next to nothing.  It was the question that mattered, the question he came back to again and again.   “What am I?” 

 

He would watch Gabriel - sometimes he could hear him talking to a 911 operator on the phone, while at the same time, moving at a speed he had never seen a doctor move.  Cutting precisely, putting in a tube, pulling on the broken arm, and in a way he could not fathom, watching in amazement as some of the twisted angles righted themselves.  John had always said Gabriel was the better part of him, the stronger part, the superior part - and there he was out there proving it.  And every moment he watched Gabriel he would feel smaller and smaller.  There he was - with a man who not five minutes ago was moving to attack him with a knife to hurt him or take his life - and now Gabriel was using the same tool to try and save that man.  TO SAVE HIM, not to harm.   He had never felt worthy of the little man, and now he knew, absolutely knew, he never would be. What was he compared to THAT kind of man? 

 

Then, as if to answer that, John’s eyes would shift down - down to see his hands, his legs, his chest.  Little spray spatters to smudged trails - blood covering them all.  It was so easy.  It was so fucking easy.  It was just instinct.  That man’s life felt so small.  So nothing.  It felt like the water bottles he flattened without even thinking.  He had very nearly crushed that life without even trying.  What was he compared to that little man a few meters away?  John knew - he knew he was nothing compared to that little doctor.  Everything he had prided himself on all his life, everything he thought he wanted to be, what he was trying to do - it was all washed away in an instant.  Part of him had always wanted to believe that he was doing something like Gabriel did, saving people.  He thought he was that first day he met Gabriel York, the day the small doctor handed him a business card after a man with a gun had chased him.  That day - John had stopped that man with a gun with barely a scratch to either of them.  Now, here he was - supposedly so much MORE - but killing or so close to killing that same threat that it didn’t matter.  So much more… but so much less.  What have I become?  “What am I?”  

 

John’s eyes shifted again out to Gabriel.  He had heard him talking to Jack on the phone.  Oh, Jack.  Jack was so, so wrong, John knew.  Sitting in his Jeep outside of their lab, Jack had said he was going to be the biggest, strongest, tallest person on earth, and that there was no one else on earth he could want to be those things -- to be this.  But he was wrong.  John knew.  He knew better than anyone ever could.  They were all so small. Human beings, real human beings, were all so small.  So fragile.  The tiniest of lights, a solitary birthday candle in the dark, so easy to extinguish in a million different ways.  But, John wasn’t, not anymore.  “What am I?” John knew.  Everyone was so small.  And he - John Declann - had been the smallest of them all before all of this.  And now, he was even less.  A monster, A machine.

 

John knew - that day, in the hospital a lifetime ago. If he had only known then what he knew now.  He would have rather spent a million years in that bed willing legs to move that never would and another million in a wheelchair, than one second walking but being this.  One second being this... this... inhuman thing was too long, if it cost a man his life unnecessarily in a fit of rage.  Someone he was sworn to protect, criminal or not.  The computer was right.  He was a subject.   John gazed at Gabriel, leaning over, putting a tube into the man’s side.  Gabriel had been right. He wasn't a man anymore.  He was an experiment.  That - that MAN out there was a giant.  John?  “What am I?”

 

He was hell's chief damned soul.

 

“JOHN, JOHN THE POLICE ARE ALMOST HERE.  JUST DO WHAT THEY SAY. PLEASE JOHN, FOLLOW YOUR TRAIN--”

 

John looked back at his hands - they were right.  Why they were so panicked that night in the Jeep.  John knew -  No one else on earth could be made into this. No one, never.  He … he must be alone. Isolated.  Where did he belong?  He deserved to be in a cage - a monument to when the wrong people were given power they should never have.   Or better yet… he deserved to be mangled, broken, and gone.  Eye for an eye.  What everyone says they want, be it in a courtroom or a picket line or any place in between.  There should be Justice…. 

 

“I’m sorry, Little One.  I have to go...” John silently wept as he descended into the hell of his own invention.  For the next few minutes, it was as if we were outside his body.  A spectator, even of his own thoughts.  In slow motion, just like before, waiting for it to come.  

 


 

John heard a siren approaching.  He began to evaluate it; after so many years, it was too habitual not to.  “Maybe a quarter of a mile away.  Approaching fast.  The sound’s off though.  Shifting lanes.  Not very steady either.  You don’t know where you’re going.  Christ, shut it off.  If you want to bullseye yourself for me, you are doing it.  Unsecured potential fatal assault.  Perp still on scene. Don’t have a clue what kind of weapon I am.  You’re drawing enough attention coming into an unknown that I could kill them all and snap your neck before you got out of your car.  Must be young.  Rookie. So easy to spot.  No wonder the cons think so little of us.” 

 

A lone cruiser pulled into the lot.  And inside -  John’s eyes shifted up, up to see a sight that brought an inaudible, but scornfully bitter laugh.  A laugh at the sight and a laugh at that person getting out who not so long ago was just like him.  “The kid must still be in goddamned diapers.  Barely a fucking puppy.”  And when the door opened - “Did I ever look that petrified when I was a rook?  Look at that. Fuck.  Eyes like a spotlighted deer.  Breathing like he is in a haunted house.  Well, kid, this time may be the only time in the history of law enforcement where you should be that scared.  And fucking more.  I am as close to hellspawn as you ever want to come.  If you only understood.  Well, shit, look at that, maybe you do understand.  Maybe you’re not still on mama’s tit.  I see your hands.  Pull it. That’s right.  Go on.  I could snap you in half before you take your next breath, and you know it.  Do it.  Eliminate the threat.  You’ll be doing the world a favor, and you’ll never even know just how big of one....”  

 

John heard the radio pop.  

 

“0947, code check.”

"Good Christ, he could kill me."

"0947 say again."

 

"That's right.  I could.  In a thousand different ways.  Assess … Go on …"  John’s shifted his eyes, his brutally cold, virtually lifeless gaze boring through the back of the puppy's skull.

 

The rook started moving.  He heard Gabriel shouting.  "OH MY GOD. NOOOOO!  PUT IT DOWN.  PUT THE GUN DOWN. HE WON'T HURT YOU.  911, HE ISN’T DOING ANYTHING. WHY--"

 

"Yes I will.  I swore I'd protect that very man with my life and I almost put a fist through his skull. If I will hurt him, I sure as fuck can hurt you.  I can pop your skull like a zit.  You’re scared shitless I will do just that.  Go on…

 

John heard a siren - EMS - coming from the north.  "Good boy, Angel.  Stay where you are.  Do what you were born to do.  The rook is only for me…"

 

"Beep, Beep, Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Officer in distress - 3300 block East Fountain Boulevard.  All area units respond.  Code 33 - Clear the Air.  Repeat.  Officer in distress - 3300 block East Fountain Boulevard.  Code 33.  All other traffic channel 6."

 

“At least he has a good one behind him.  The kid is in distress alright.  Won’t reply to his dispatch for a check.  Won’t check on Gabriel.  He hasn’t even given me a command.  He’s forgotten everything.  Just frozen.  I know where it ends.  It’s OK, kid.  You’ll be giving the best gift to that little giant over there anyone could ever give.  And to me too.  And when they watch the CC, no one will blame you.  Eliminate the threat - sigh … but you can’t.  You’re too scared even to do that.”

 

John heard sirens blaze to life surrounding him in the distance.  He would hear a voice on the radio as soon as he heard a new one.  

 

"0644, responding."

"0842, responding"

"0788, responding."

“0901, responding”

"K9 Unit 2, responding."

 

"Good.  Steady voices.  Maybe they will…"

 

They were approaching from all sides, fast.  Pursuit speeds.  It would not be long.  “Look away, Angel.  My Little One.  Don’t watch.  I’m so scared of what this could have been…”

 

"PUT THE FUCKING THING DOWN.  PLEASE.  JOHN.  PLEASE STAY STILL.  PLEASE…. PLEASE DON'T LET HIM TAKE YOU FROM ME.  DON'T YOU GO AWAY.  DON’T LEAVE ME PLEASE.  DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE."

 


 

For the first time in minutes, John moved.  He turned his head fully toward Gabriel.  He heard the scream of fear and the cracking, sobbing voice of crying begging him, saw terror walking across the littlest giant’s face.  But it wasn’t fear of the monster he had become.  It was the same fear that had plagued John for months, unspoken, what he had been hiding from.  The fear of the hell of being alone.  He was so alone in this growing giant shell.  Seeing the man he loved more than life itself in that moment so afraid of the same thing, it broke John’s heart.  The fatalism cracked, the desire to bring about life’s end.  He couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t.  Even after all he had seen, the littlest giant wanted to stay with him.  Didn’t want to be alone.  John blew out a small breath.  “OK, Angel.  I will try and stay for you.”

 

The closest siren snapped off.  John shifted slightly to see EMS barreling in, charging like a bat out of hell into danger as usual.  They stopped, and John could tell they were wrestling with a choice.  And against every rule they had about unsecured scenes … they jumped out, grabbed handfuls of containers and equipment and ran for Gabriel.  They started talking to him immediately.  John saw Gabriel’s attention on him waver.  John sent a silent thank you and wished he could hug those two paramedics at that moment.  Gabriel didn’t need to see what was about to happen...

 

John noted the police sirens snap off as they approached.  He gathered they must have collected each other as they came because four cruisers and an SUV-K9 unit barreled into the parking lot at the same time.  Three of the new men drew instantly, as soon as they exited their vehicle, taking cover behind their open doors, pointing their weapons at his center of mass.  The fourth hit his radio key.  “EDC, CS 0644, units on scene.  CS 0947 unharmed. Stand by.” 

 

“10-4, CS 0644. All alert units stand by.”

 

The speaking officer drew and joined the others aiming his weapon.  He was an older, rather skinny fellow with lieutenant bars.  He yelled out to John.  “GET DOWN. ON THE GROUND NOW!  ON YOUR STOMACH.  SPREAD YOUR ARMS NOW.”   Robotically slowly, still feeling partially detached from his own body, John spread his arms away, splayed his fingers open and in a smooth motion, turned to lay prone, spread eagled on the pavement.   John heard several sets of boots run up on either side of him.  He felt a set of knees implant onto the small of his back, and then there was an audible gasp of disbelief all around.   The officer was struggling to maintain balance as John’s breathing alone shifted the officer’s entire body weight up and down like he wasn’t even there.

 

Confusion ran through them.  They didn’t know what to do.  John was too big for anything they had been trained to do to take someone into custody.  John felt one wrist being roughly handled, his arm twisting in what would be painful for most people, but didn’t register to him in the slightest.  He felt the cool of handcuff tips touch his wrists and then pull away.  John knew what was wrong.  He had tried it himself in a bored moment on stakeout a couple of weeks ago - standard handcuffs would no longer fit.  His wrists were too thick with muscle, bone, and veins to fit him and still be able to close.

 

Autonomically, as if he were an FTO in a teaching moment, John’s voice rumbled, “Zip cuffs.”  

 

“SHUT UP!” greeted John’s words.  The voice was trying to sound confident and in command, but whichever one of them said it, John could hear the fear.  John forgave them the response.  With the sheer volume of hormones between them all, it was expected.  And since he had promised he would not leave Gabriel alone, he let it go.  Still, he smiled internally, as he felt the thin plastic and heard the zip of one, two, three, and then four crowd control zip restraints go into place.  They had an instinct he was beyond a normal person, where one pair was easily sufficient; so, they had used more.  It was a wise precaution, and John silently commended them for what looked like overkill.  John felt and heard them breathe slightly easier -- but just slightly.  They paused again, and John surmised they were thinking what he knew was the truth -  if John wanted, even 4 sets of zip cuffs could not have held him.

 

“SPREAD YOUR LEGS.  DO YOU HAVE ANY WEAPONS ON YOU? ANYTHING I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT?”  John heard one say, center and above him.  Must have been the one on his back.

 

John again replied robotically a reply he knew those three behind him never expected. “Right front pocket.”

 

John felt one of the officers kneel on each side of him and hands began to touch him, searching for weapons.  “Oh my God.” the one on the left said, the shock of what he was feeling forcing the comment from his mouth.  John's head was turned to the left, facing that one, and for the briefest of moments, he saw the face.  He didn’t have to make any more comments.  John knew what it was over as he felt the pat down slow down - a lot - and become much more deliberate than the general rote habit of the usual search.  Feeling the massive hard muscle under his tracksuit, the officer had to be very careful not to mistake biceps and traps with the hardness of a weapon.  

 

He felt the one on the right going a bit faster, carefully but quickly descending to where the right front pants pocket would be.  John felt the outline of a small, supple leather rectangle press into his flesh and then pull out.  The officer removed the wallet and opened it.

 

John heard fear replaced with a tone of voice that seemed to communicate … the officer suddenly preferred summary execution to what he just saw.  “Oh FUCK.”  he said.

 

John heard the officer with his badge key up his radio, “EDC, CS 0644.  Stand down Officer in Distress.  Scene secured. Suspect in custody.  10-5, Repeat. 10-5.  We need Air Force MP’s. One of their civilian officers is involved.  I have his credentials.  Repeat. 10-5, 10-2000 for Air Force Military Police. Over.”

 

“10-4, 0644. Stand Down Code 33. 10-5 Peterson Military Police,” came back across the radio.

 

The one who had radioed, spoke down to him.  “According to this you are Detective Kyle Brady, United States Air Force Police.  Is that correct?”

 

“Yes,” John replied curtly.

 

“Alright detective.  Then you understand that we must take you into custody on suspicion of a variety of possible criminal charges.  While I am not placing you under arrest at this time, you are being detained and held and may be subject to arrest at any time until final disposition of this altercation.  So, at this time, I will mirandize you.  

 

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.  Do you understand these rights as I have stated them to you?”

 

“Yes I do.”  John replied again emotionlessly.

 

“OK, let’s see if we can get him up.”

 

John droned in response again, “I doubt that you will be able to.” John knew full well they were not strong enough nor tall enough to stand him up without chaos.  And chaos in this situation was not what he needed if he intended to keep his promise to Gabriel.  “Now that you know who I am, if you are the lieutenant I saw when you entered the scene - - If you will let me, at your instruction, I will raise to a kneeling LAPD position.  If one of each of you could stand on my feet and the other hold my ankles, that would be helpful.  Then when you say, you can guide and I will stand.  I know that at least some of you will keep your weapons drawn toward me.  I will not resist.  Acceptable?” 

 

John heard the officers shifting.  He knew they knew they had little choice. If they didn’t the only option was to shoot him, and he was not resisting and was restrained.  And, he was also a sworn officer, a Fed, and the last thing they needed was an unnecessary tangle with the Feds.  “Alright.” came the reply from the voice John had come to know as 0644.  They shifted and John felt hands and bodyweight on his feet and ankles and leave his back.

 

“Raise up.”  John easily pivoted in a hamstring-glute raise.  He never twisted or shifted his entire upper body for a moment as his knees rotated, back perfectly flat, hips locked, sliding up into a kneeling position.  “Holy Shit…” one whispered, seeing the raw power on display.  

 

An officer each took John, as best as they could, around the biceps, though their little hands couldn’t even cover half of the ball of muscle.  John could sense too, even without seeing them, at best they were an inch or two taller than him when they were fully standing and he was kneeling.  John said again, “You might want to slide down to my forearms.  I might pull you off the ground holding me like that if I stand up.”  By this point, the cops robotically obeyed John as much as John obeyed them, and slid their hands to his mid-forearm.  

 

“Stand up.”  0644 said.  John easily rose to his feet and as he stood to his full height for the first time since their arrival, the tiny officers understood just how miniscule they were.  John really would have stood up with them hanging in the air, one on each arm if they had held him in the normal escort position.  As it was, one officer each maintained the forearm grip, while John felt the third gasp his bound wrists around the plastic restraints.  They turned him and John noted that the puppy and another officer were still pointing their service weapons at him, still petrified.  Even the K-9 braced harder as he saw the sheer scale of the man restrained.  Off to the right, Gabriel was working with the paramedics feverishly, running IV’s and dropping braces onto the attacker’s limp body.

 

John saw 0644 on his right wave off the other two and they returned their weapons to their holsters.  As the three led John past, the K-9 handler couldn’t help himself seeing the muscle giant within feet of him.  “Good God.  Any stupid fuck who took you on has to be insane … and deserves what he gets.”  Hearing that John slowed and turned his head to look down.  If John’s gaze alone could have killed, the cop would have dropped on the spot.  As it was, the cold fire and the sharpness of the cut from John’s eyes so frightened the handler that he reflexively stepped back and his K-9 partner dropped his head submissively and shuffled closer to the handler’s legs.  John allowed the faintest groan of disapproval to escape his lips.  But, as his blood began to rise, he could hear Gabriel in his mind - “Don’t leave me alone.”  At that, John released his stare and resumed his normal pace.

 

Getting John into a cruiser would be hopeless, they knew instantly.  It would take a contortionist and they wanted John secured as fast as they possibly could.  So, they directed him toward the K-9’s SUV, and with a bit of maneuvering, John was able to sit inside.  As they closed the door, John saw them visibly relax, as if each of them had been trying to carry John’s entire body weight on his shoulders and were released.  John saw 0644 walk up to the kid.  The cop in him knew what that conversation was going to be like, but John let it go.  Only 2 things mattered - two of those little flickering lights, one blazing bright as the sun and one almost extinguished, and they were both still out in that parking lot.  John shifted and looked around to see Gabriel with two paramedics wrenching the man’s twisted leg. He heard the sound of a helicopter rotor descending into an empty area of the parking lot.

  

***

 

“Good God, Doctor.  Combat Trach with a fucking sushi knife, chest drain, reduced two fractures like that.  I’ve done this for twenty years, and I have never seen anything like this before.  Most need full radiology to even begin to do what you did with kitchen tools.”  The flight surgeon said to Gabriel as they watched the flight paramedics secure the broken man for transit.  “There is no sane way he should survive, but I think he is going to. Because of you.”

 

Gabriel demurred, “Never discount what adrenaline can do.  Now, you have my contact.  If the man needs cranial surgery--”

 

“You know you can’t.  Not being involved in the incident.  But I will pass it on the sentiment.”

 

Gabriel nodded and patted his fellow on the shoulder.  “OK.  Go save him.”

 

“You already have.”  the flight surgeon replied, as he took his leave, boarding the large red/orange helicopter for Memorial Central Hospital.

 

Gabriel ducked his head, covering it with an arm as the rotors picked up pace to leave.  Immediately, he began for the SUV where John was.  But, he had not gotten to within 10 meters before one of the officers, the one Gabriel had guessed was the lead since he had lieutenant’s bars, stopped him.  “Doctor, we can’t allow you near the suspect.  Cop or not, he is still a suspect -”

 

Gabriel protested, nearly panicking, “You don’t understand.  He is my-”

 

The officer grasped Gabriel’s upper arm gently, but firmly.  The veteran understood well enough who this physician was to the suspect.  He had seen that look tens of thousands of times over his career.  It was always the same.  “I can’t Doctor.  I am sorry.  Right now I need you to come with me so that we can get an initial statement --”  

 

Just then, a blue lit writhing mass of plain black SUVs and cars with Air Force insignia flew into the parking lot.  With the precision of a top military team, the better part of a dozen men in suits poured from the black vehicles.  They spread in a well practiced tactical maneuver to secure the most ground in the least time.  Although they did not draw their weapons, there was little doubt at all that they would have in a moment, without any hesitation, no matter who was in the way of them securing their objective.  

 

One of the suited men moved quickly toward Gabriel and said to the lieutenant, “Officer, please step away from the doctor.  He is our responsibility.”

 

The lieutenant looked like he was going to shit a brick before Gabriel spoke up, “No, no, no.  It is OK.  I am fine.  You can stand down where I am concerned.” The large man seemed to ease a bit.  Gabriel turned to the scared shitless officer.  “I am sorry, but … well, under the circumstances, I think you will understand that one of these men will want to be with you when you take the statement.  Work related.  Not my choice.”  Gabriel said.  The officer turned around, and as Gabriel nodded, the large man pulled back his coat to reveal a federal law enforcement badge.  

 

“Doctor, I can appreciate that the locals need to take a statement if you have been involved as a victim in a crime, but we also need to see to your safety.  You have already been compromised here in the last few minutes.  This can be done much more securely as a military facility.” the large man said.

 

Gabriel replied, “I seriously doubt I am in any danger right now.  Not with all of you here.  Now, stand down.  I have been involved in a crime as a witness, yes, but I am OK.  You know your procedure.  Now do it.  Except - make sure the big man in the SUV isn’t taken away until a Colonel Dougherty with Air Force police gets here. He is one of Colonel Dougherty’s men and he saved my life.”

 

“Colonel Warren Dougherty?” the large suited agent asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

A nod of understanding crossed the big man’s face.  “I know the colonel, Doctor.  Won’t be a problem.”

 

Gabriel sighed as he turned back to the lieutenant.  “OK.  Ugh.  Again, I apologize.  But, if you do not mind, could you not take the man you have in custody away from here until the Air Force officer gets here?  These fellows can be a bit touchy about that sort of thing, and there is no need for that.  Is back at the curb there OK?”  The officer nodded and together with the large suited man, they escorted Gabriel to the sidewalk.

 

(To be continued in Chapter 7 Part 4)

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Authors Notes:

  • I am including links to songs and images that will enhance the experience of reading the story.  Please feel free to follow the links.
  • Special thanks to SeaMusc for his kindness in allowing me to set this story in the same universe as several of his characters and borrowing them.  Please take a read of their story - The Impossible Discovery  to understand what happened 5 years before these events.

Chapter 7 - How Did You Love - Part 4 - Send Me an Angel


“Hear This Voice from Deep Inside/ It’s the Call of Your Heart/ Close Your Eyes and You Will Find / The Way out of the Dark” ~ Scorpion - "Send Me an Angel"


 

Three Hours Later

 

Colonel Dougherty approached the young NCO MP.  “I think the locals are about done here.  When they are, you are free to return to post.  But remember you and your team are all under direct orders from me. You will only discuss this with me and me alone.  Any inquiry from a superior officer, you will direct to me.  Other than directing someone of superior rank to me, you will not discuss this evening or anything you have seen or heard with anyone.  Goes for your team too.  You may consider the incident classified.  Understood?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” the sergeant said.

 

“Dismissed.”  the colonel said.  The sergeant saluted and Doughtery returned it before turning around and walking toward his personal SUV.  John and Gabriel sat in the back seat. Gabriel was holding John’s left hand, and Dougherty could tell, John was in very little mood for talking with anyone.  It seemed like hell to get anything out of him other than “yes” or “no.”  Though less than when he had first arrived at the scene, the tears from the massive man who was already his best agent had never stopped.  Right now, for all of John’s mammoth size and the power and strength that went with it, it was the small doctor who was being strong enough for both of them.  And seeing what he had seen on that video - Dougherty was not about to allow the one person that seemed to be comforting John and holding him together leave his side.  

 

The moment he got there, Dougherty was shocked at the NSA response team.  They almost never took this kind of overt action.  WAY too many questions with them operating inside US borders.  Even more was the queasy feeling in his stomach that he got when he saw that the team was nominally taking orders from Gabriel.  Dougherty wondered what the fuck John had gotten involved in, but that question was one for later.  Much, much later.  Between the two of them, Dougherty and Gabriel were able to convince the suits to leave the young doctor with MPs as security, and left the scene.  

 

As soon as the response team was gone, Dougherty placed a call to the Colorado Springs Chief of Detectives, a personal friend.  The detective and his partner came to the scene, took charge, and remanded custody of John from the local police to Dougherty.  John had to stay in his SUV, but he was able to remove the plastic restraints.  Dougherty did ask John if he could remove them himself.  John confirmed that he could, but given the situation, that kind of display could alarm the other officers.  Doughrety agreed, and had the bond cut.   

 

In the intervening three hours, the detectives, Dougherty, and the local cops collected everything they could lay their hands on.  So far, all of the evidence collected, including the knife and the attacker’s personal effects at the hospital, his vehicle which they had located, the CCTV footage covering the parking lot, and the scant statements of the few people who had watched some portion of what happened, all confirmed Gabriel’s retelling of the events.  They even collected John and Gabriel’s clothes, allowing them to change into clothes that they had in the bags for their trip.  Everything was supporting Gabriel’s contention of self-defense, despite what the injuries looked like.  

 

But, there were a few things he HAD to ask John about from the evidence they’d found so far.  Whether John wanted to talk or not right now, there was little choice in the matter.  Dougherty approached the open door.  “Gabriel, can I talk with John for a moment?”

 

Gabriel nodded and was about to leave when John closed his left hand holding Gabriel’s a little harder.  His voice was still cold, distant, robotic.  “Let him stay.  There is not much he doesn’t know about anyway, Warren.”

 

“John, did you violate-”

 

“No, but there is very little you could ever hide from Gabriel.  He is really good like that.  Besides-”  John looked to Gabriel.

 

Gabriel spoke up, his eyes never leaving John’s. “Colonel, I take it you noted the response team and their interactions with me.  Run my name through one of your military computer programs sometime and I think you will understand to some degree what John and I are not allowed to talk about here.”  Gabriel then looked at the colonel, eyes pleading, saying what his mouth could not.

 

Dougherty nodded.  The message was not lost on him.  Dougherty knew a classified operation when he saw one.  Which meant there was a lot more to Gabriel York than met the eye.  More questions for later.  “OK.  Then, John, I need you to look at something for me.  We have identified the man who tried to attack you.  Stupid ass actually had his legit ID and cell phone in his vehicle.  We found it a block from here.” Dougherty put on a pair of gloves and took the cell phone from an evidence bag.  “I am going to run through these phone numbers on the recent calls log.  Tell me if there are any that look familiar.”

 

Dougherty held the phone out, and John glanced down.  He didn’t have to scroll past the first page.  The color drained from John’s face as his eyes lit with the fire of rage.  John’s voice became incredibly cold.  “Don’t go on.  Third from the top.”  Dougherty had to latch onto his combat training not to take a step back seeing and hearing this.  Seeing John enraged on video was one thing.  But it was a whole other experience to feel it and see it with your own eyes.  It made you feel … small.  Something he might have imagined the Bible writers having felt being in the presence of avenging angels.

 

John growled deeply.  “Colonel, get my business phone. It was in the Jeep in the glove box.”  Dougherty excused himself a moment and returned with another evidence bag containing a familiar cell.  

 

“Contacts list.  Last name - H.”  John said, his voice dropped to almost a whisper.  Dougherty moved to the H’s and stopped.  He saw it too.  An exact match.  The entry was for Jeff Heath.

 

Dougherty blew out a low whistle.  “God Dammit.  John, it makes sense though.  The ID came back a match from our DEA guys and the locals.  He is a street level drug dealer, gangs, a long list of mostly misdemeanor crimes.  Suspect in a murder but local police could never prove it.  Spent as much time in prison as out in his adult life all told.  But there is some evidence that he is associated with the steroid ring.  Our trace of contacts from weeks ago suggest he is a financial end point, taking orders, taking money, but not distributing in any meaningful way.  The perfect expendable asset if you want a hitman...  

 

“John, I guess this is confirmation.  We can’t be sure, but we have to go on the assumption that--”

 

“They know who I am.” John interrupted.  

 

From the tone and the body language of the big man, both Dougherty and Gabriel understood the anger.  He was not angry at anyone right now but himself.  Dougherty immediately tried to assuage that guilt a bit.  “I doubt that they know the name John Declann.  We have been far too careful for that.  But, we have to assume they know Kyle Brady is investigating some portion of the operation.”

 

Gabriel spoke up, asking a question he was very afraid he already knew the answer to.  “Then what happened tonight was not random?”

 

John’s lips pursed, and he swallowed hard.  “Fuck.  FUCK.  FUCK!!”  John’s voice roared so loud it felt like it shook the very vehicle he was sitting in.  He calmed slightly regaining composure as he went on. “No, it wasn’t random at all, Angel.”  John tried to take a couple of breaths before he continued.  “Look at the time of the call.  Recognize it?  This was just after he ran from the show this afternoon…”  

 

John grasped Gabriel’s hand hard, as again a single large tear welled up and fell.  “God, Angel.  They are almost certainly targeting you now. The guys are too high profile in bodybuilding and not involved in any real way.  And me, well, too many questions.  It’s what… what I have felt in my gut this whole time since I first saw him that I could not put my finger on.  This was getting back, revenge for--”

 

“John, no.  This isn’t your fault.”  Gabriel said as he squeezed John’s hand with all the strength he could muster.

 

“Is there something that happened that I do not know about?” Dougherty asked.

 

“Yes, Colonel.  It didn’t seem like much at the time, but … Christ.  I do not think they know who I am exactly, but we have to assume they do or soon will.  Fuck me and my goddamned ego.”  John spat out.

 

“Then, we have to move now.  Within 48 hours.”  Dougherty paused and swallowed hard.  “John, I have to ask.  I need you on this.  You more than anyone else in this operation, you KNOW it all.  I can pull enough strings to keep you off of administrative leave long enough to get this done.  You can’t have an active part now, obviously, but I need you to coordinate.  Making sure our people are where they need to be in Colorado and Wyoming.”

 

John lowered his head and nodded.  “I understand.  But, Colonel, they know their jobs already.  They can do this without me.”

 

Dougherty sighed.  “Alright, John.  Will you at least sleep on it? Under the circumstances, you need a few hours.  Call me when you wake up.”  John nodded, agreeing to at least call.  “Gabriel, can you take him home?  Get some sleep.  Do not leave your house without permission until he calls me tomorrow.  I think you have the most capable escort in the US government already.  I do not want to have to post someone that is just going to draw more attention, and I trust you if you give me your word that you will not leave or let him leave.”

 

Gabriel was resolute.  “You have my word, Colonel.”

 

The two got out of Dougherty’s SUV and began to make their way toward John’s Jeep.  But as they left, Dougherty reached out and touched Gabriel’s shoulder.  Gabriel turned around.  “Doctor York, I know this is asking a lot of you.  But I need him.  I need his mind in the game.  This just will not work without him in this short of a time frame.  He is too involved.  Too much rests on him.  And, you know him better than anyone alive I think.”  Dougherty looked almost like a father, thinking back.  “I once told John he was the best cop I ever met.  Even if he doesn’t think he is, especially now,  I still do.... And you are… well.  Just take care of him?”

 

Gabriel’s voice broke as it always did when his heart considered the man named John Declann.  “He means more to me than you can ever know.  I will ALWAYS take care of him.”  Dougherty nodded and patted Gabriel on the shoulder.  He gave the doctor the Jeep keys, and a bag containing John’s phones and ID.  

 

Gabriel took his place in the driver’s seat beside John.  And after a long minute of adjusting the seat for someone his size, Gabriel reached out and patted John’s enormous quad.  “Are you ready, my love?”  John nodded.  Then it struck Gabriel.  In all of the time, all of the confusion, he was so distracted he never thought to ask.  “John, did the paramedics look at your hurt hand?  Any first aid?”

 

John shook his head.  “No.  It doesn’t even really hurt anymore. Haven’t thought about it in a while.”  Gabriel held out his hands in that universal sign of doctors saying “Gimme.”  John understood and knew he would not win; so, he placed his right hand into Gabriel’s.

 

Gabriel glanced at the hand then up at John then back at the hand.  He looked out into the parking lot, saw the fist-sized cracked depression in the asphalt.  Then he looked at the hand again, turning it, manipulating each finger, testing it as he would for any patient.  

 

He tried his best to hide his reaction, but didn’t do very well.  As he spoke Gabriel's voice grew more and more quiet.  "Move your fingers for me, John."  John complied.  "Make a fist.  Any pain?"  John absently shook his head no.  

 

Gabriel tried his best to appear to be quiet because he was concentrating, but in truth, he was stunned to silence.  He had expected to see broken fingers, cracked bones, boxer's knuckle, some kind of injury at least -- but there was nothing but a couple of minor scratches.  No swelling, no bruising, not even evidence of a small cracked metacarpal that a normal person wouldn't feel unless really maneuvered by an expert like himself. There was no nothing.  It was as if an injury had never happened, yet there was the inch deep broken depression in the parking lot that said otherwise.  

 

Incredulous, moving that hand, Gabriel began to understand the full extent of what he had created, what he had done to John, as tidbits of John’s behavior and comments he had made for months but never connected finally fell into place.

 

Adaptation.  That was the single word answer for what was happening to John.  Adaptation.  His new nervous system pushing him to adapt.  Denser, tougher muscle fibers, harder bones, getting stronger, thicker, more flexible, more agile.  Adapting to ANY stimulus so he could overcome that stimulus … ANY STIMULUS that injured John’s body so that he would not be hurt again.  

 

As Gabriel cranked the Jeep and drove, the import hit him.  It wasn't just John's muscles and bones getting better and faster.  His ability to heal - healing system-wide micro tears from working out everyday was teaching his body to heal faster and faster.  Healing EVERYWHERE faster and faster.  Gabriel knew from his basic physiology.  The body is a supremely lazy thing.  A cardinal rule is that the body would adapt itself so that it needs to do less in the long run.  Any weightlifter knew, any runner, any cyclist.  Over time, the body makes itself stronger, thicker, harder so that it is able to do something without as much pain or exertion as before.  And when it did need to heal, less damage overall meant that it healed faster so that it could be lazy and conserve energy in the long run.  Bench pressing 135 pounds may make you sore as hell one day, but in a few weeks, you have to do it 10 times to get the same level or soreness.  Then 20, then 30 or 40.  By then, that single press that used to require days to heal, requires no time at all.  

 

Gabriel knew that John would stop growing when he couldn't challenge his body to get stronger anymore, when he no longer had to adapt and could just cruise like that single 135 lb bench press that took no effort.  But in the meantime … adapting. 

 

The next thought struck Gabriel’s mind with a force every bit as strong as John’s punches a few hours ago. Everything the augmented nervous system touched would adapt to prevent injury or overcome injury faster.  Not just muscles.  Eyes, ears, nose.  Every sensory organ.  Even his brain...

 

What had John seen that made him react the way he did?  Pace of movement, breathing speed and depth, where the attacker’s eyes were looking… they had to be such small movements and so many meters away. Yet, he wasn’t just seeing it.  He was seeing it well enough to correctly read emotional states and predict what people would do seeing it.  Seeing people across many feet of an auditorium in the dark and with blinding spotlights in your face.  It all should have been imperceptible.  But … it wasn’t.  Who sees how fast someone is breathing, the rise and fall of a heart rate through chest and shirt at so many feet distant?  John has said he saw all these things.   And not just in the attacker but in the cops. He heard their emotional states over the radio.  Heard distant sirens long before Gabriel did.  John could surmise what lane someone was in or if they were lost just from the sound of the driving without even seeing the road.  How could his reflexes be getting so much sharper and faster that the attacker seemed to be moving in slow motion unless…  Was his vision adapting?  Hearing?  Where would it stop?  

 

When John couldn't force micro tears into his muscles for growth anymore - When the muscles and bones were so strong that he wasn’t challenged anymore, what would his vision and hearing and smell and taste be like?  With that kind of man … no that kind of demigod …. would there be anything that could really damage him?  

 

John wouldn't be impervious to ALL damage. The skin would still cut.  Big enough trauma he would still be hurt, still die. Nobody could withstand a nuclear bomb or a missile or something.  Accidents like falling from a hundred foot cliff.  Nothing was indestructible.  But, traumas he had been exposed to enough that he could survive and adapt would be just like that used-to-be heavy bench press that was now less than a warm-up.  Things that would have hurt before, he would shrug off just like a warm up.  Anything blunt force - a punch, a hammer, maybe even a knife - with a normal human’s strength driving it eventually he could withstand.  Fuck, maybe even a low caliber, low velocity bullet.  When this was done, John’s muscles may as well be living Kevlar body armor.  And there was more.  With better sight and hearing and reflexes and flexibility, could John just out think any danger? 

 

How fast and completely could John think now?  Not only gathering more information through his senses but retaining more and processing it faster?  Was he even growing more intelligent with a bigger, faster brain?  John was keeping up with him and Jack a few weeks ago … but he shouldn't have been.  He didn't have the background in his studies, the practical experience of the researchers, the data, that's part of why he hadn't been really listening.  When they first figured out John was growing, he needed the scientists to put it into basic terms.  Two months later - and they didn’t need to anymore.  John was keeping up, understanding cutting edge genetics in basic terms that wasn't even in the published journals yet with no more education in the subject than undergraduate biology.  It shouldn't be possible, unless…. The conclusion was inescapable.

 

"Oh God…" Gabriel's bosses. The military.  Classified, black ops projects.  Not just a bigger, stronger soldier, but also faster, more agile, able to see more, hear more.  Even more intelligent.  To see order in the chaos of a battlefield.  Anticipate what the enemy would do just from his breathing and where he was looking...  If they found out, the military would kill for this.  Kill anyone, do anything to get the process.  And they would find out. This night had been one big calling card for them.  They will be coming.

 


 

The first light of dawn broke into John’s bedroom, but neither Gabriel nor John had slept at all.  They just lay there, sitting propped up against the headboard, hour after hour, holding each other.  John, desperately cradling the littlest giant who still held his heart in the palm of his hand, and Gabriel, despite everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, feeling safe from the world tight in the arms of his man.  They were trying everything they could to recapture one of those moments when the world was gone except for their love.  But it wasn’t working, each man lost in his own mind, wishing the presence of the other could exorcise what they were feeling.  

 

Gabriel was slowly rubbing John’s right pec his head resting on the left one, all of John still covered in contest spray tan.  And once every few minutes, Gabriel still felt a single tear roll down onto the crown of his head, slowly coursing from the amazing eyes of the man who was finally learning the full consequences of what Jack had said.  Coming to terms with just how fundamentally he was and was not quite human anymore.  

 

In that moment of first light, Gabriel knew.  He knew what he needed to do.  What they had to do, while there was still time.  John needed to be John one more time.  It was the only way - as horrible as Gabriel’s initial reaction had been weeks ago to it … it was the only way.  John needed to save a life, one he had intended to save for a long time.  To prove to himself, even if it took something … drastic, that John Declann was the man Gabriel York saw, that Warren Dougherty saw, that everyone saw, except for him.  Gabriel looked up and wiped a slightly brown stained tear from the giant.  

 

“John?” 

 

“Yes, Angel.” John replied, still staring off into space. 

 

“Do it John. Do what you need to do.”  

 

“Do what?”  

 

“Heath, John.  Do it.  You not only have my permission.  You have my FULL support. I want you to do it.” 

 

John snapped into the here and now.  He gently took Gabriel and moved him to his left, so that he could roll over to lay on his side to face him properly.  The look in John’s eyes seemed to be fifty emotions at once.  

 

“Angel are you sure?  After what I did, what I could do, especially to him...”  

 

John paused as he moved back into memory, his dominating Heath so expertly, crushing him down so… John’s voice fell into a private shame, a private shame that Gabriel needed to know.  He needed to know all he is capable of.  It was a memory he loved, felt such SATISFACTION about, but now ...  

 

“Angel, what I WILL do to him.  You don’t know what I did to him before he ever tried to touch you, and I LOVED it.  Now ... the way this set met off… I hate what I did last night.  But with him … Will I LOVE this.... What if I … and I love it? And I know I will, for what he did to you, for what he did to her, for what he used to do to me...” John’s great body began to tremble again, and tears flowed as he told the man he loved, who he feared so much would walk away and leave him alone, what he had done every day since that day with Heath in the gym.  What he had done after.  Every thought, every pleasure.  All of it.

 

John was shaking again as he finished.  “Angel, I do not know what you think that I am, but… I broke a man last night without even trying.  And I have been breaking a man by trying - and ….” John let out a sob, “... LOVING it.  I am a monster… ”

 

Gabriel’s eyes began to mist as he saw the pain again rise up in John’s haunted gaze as he fell silent.  “Shhhhhh….” Gabriel said, pouring all the comfort and truth of his feelings into that one quiet moment.  

 

“John, there are real monsters in this world.  We have both seen them. And, I, my love, I have seen monsters even you have never seen.   You are going to take care of so many of them the day after tomorrow.” Gabriel began to openly cry, “But, John.  I want you to listen to me and if you never believe one word I ever say to you again, believe this one thing.  You are not a monster, John Declann.” Gabriel’s voice shook with a conviction as deep and strong as the titan he lay next too.  “YOU ARE NOT.  

 

“From what you have told me and what I have seen… John, one particular monster has trapped someone innocent who needs to be freed.  Freed even sooner than two days from now.

 

“Make her free John.  Save her.  Do what you do best, my love.  Save people.”  Gabriel reached out to John’s chest and lay his tiny hand on the thick muscle armor there.  “Because no matter what happens, when you come home after it's done, I still know who is in here.  I KNOW THIS HEART.  I know how you love, John, and I know who you love.  

 

“So, do it.  You are no monster.  In every way that matters, ANY way that matters, you are still human.  You are still my hero.  And I will always love you.”  Gabriel moved his hand to John’s far cheek.  “You call me Angel.  You know - Gabriel foretold the birth of two people.  One was Jesus.  The other was named ... John.  Go be the guardian angel I know you are, John.  And no more tears.” Gabriel moved up, slid closer, and kissed slowly, meticulously, every millimeter of the trail of light skin that traced out where tears of pain had been flowing.  To John, it felt as if with each light kiss, with each small trace of salted pain Gabriel lifted away, his soul was restored.  Gabriel York was saving his life again.  Every single time John needed an Angel, Gabriel York was always there.  John took his thumb and forefinger and moved Gabriel’s mouth to his own, and once more the passion of their entwined souls made them free. 


 

Gabriel wanted this to go on forever, but after a couple of minutes, he pulled back.  John looked at him, quizzically, wondering if he had done something wrong.  But Gabriel allayed those fears with a gentle smile.  “If you are going to do this babe, we need to get started.  Both of us.”

 

John sighed, knowing Gabriel was right.  “Damn.  OK, first thing I need to do is get this tan off.”  At that, Gabriel impishly giggled and rolled out of bed.  He came close to skipping to the travel bag he had taken to Colorado Springs.  John pulled himself across the bed, genuinely curious as this sudden change.  Gabriel said, digging, “What is it your American boy scouts say, ‘Be Prepared.’”  Gabriel stood up and turned looking like he had just found the gold at the end of the rainbow.  Gabriel had before him a loofa sponge on what looked to be several wooden meter sticks wrapped in masking tape.  John’s tearful face seemed to lighten and then erupted into a belly laugh so hard he was holding his sides.  

 

John got out of bed, and sure enough, Gabriel could just reach the top of his neck with the improvised back brush.  John looked down.  “God, I love you.” Laughter again mixed with the remains of tears as they walked into the bathroom...  

 


 

A simple ring tone sounded from an older model cell phone.  A click of a button and a deep, almost primal, voice sounded.  A voice with such depth and power that it could cause anyone who heard it to resonate to its intensity.

 

“Yes. Who is this?” 

 

In the background, another voice, not quite as deep but richer, almost hypnotic, the voice of a Greek God, sounded.  “Don’t worry. I know who it is.”

 

The resonant voice was replaced by the Greek God’s over the line.  “Hello, little man.  It’s been quite a while. You know I didn’t give you this number for a simple social call, so may I assume ….”

 

A much more normal, higher baritone voice spoke opposite the Greek God on the line.  “Hello Dr. Collins.  It has been a while, yes.  What now, five years?  Since I last saw you, I have moved up in the world, you might say.  Not that prison guard you knew anymore, but … I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it.  

 

“I think you will agree, this is worth the call.  Something happened in Colorado Springs, Colorado last night.   I am sure you will find some reference on the news to an incident there.  It is being played off as a random attempted mugging.  That much is true, but… the rest. It is like what happened at the prison.  What I saw.  Dr. Collins the man who did this is … is like … is like ...”

 

“May I assume that he is …. out of the ordinary … ” 

 

“You might say that.  Dr. Collins, I think I know the man who did it.  He is Air Force Civilian Police, every bit of 7 feet tall, and I would not hazard a guess as to how much he weighs and he is built like … well he won the Southern Colorado Armed Forces Bodybuilding Show a couple of hours before the incident.  It is all over the bodybuilding internet apparently.  So, you can see that for yourself, but....  

 

“Skye, when I knew this man, he was shorter than me and 160 pounds at best.”

 

The godly voice dropped almost an octave, becoming deadly serious.  “Are you sure?”

 

“Not 100%.  But as certain as I can be.  The name he competed under, that name I do not know.  But, in the police documents I saw before they were sealed, that name is.  It is the same name as the man I knew.  And although he looks very different physically overall …  In his face, there are hints.  He is more refined, jaw more square, even looks younger, but it is him, if you know who you are looking at.  

 

“Dr. Collins if it is him … Whatever he is mixed up in to have this kind of change and the documents sealed on a military judge’s order...  He is a good man at his core.  He may need your help before this is over.  I passed on a phone number to you once five ago to help you.  It may be time for me to pass on that phone number again.  But, I will leave that decision to do that in your hands.”

 

“Thank you, little man.  If this indeed pans out, I will consider our favors to be repaid in full.”

 

“No need Dr. Collins.  Whatever I see that may interest you.  Whoever … well, you know my reasons, and this will in no way repay that, favors or anything else not withstanding.”

 

The godly voice replied in a bit of a knowing tone.  “Then I would be in your debt, and I think you know I pay my debts.”

 

“I do, Sir.  But I will leave that for another time.  The name in the sealed report is John Declann.  When I knew him he was a deputy sheriff in Boulder, Colorado.  Given your talents, I believe you can find whatever else you need from there, and I do not want to compromise you four further by staying on the line.  But if I can help, do not hesitate to ask.”

 

“If needed.  Good night, little man.”

 

“Good night Doctor.”

 

The line clicked dead.

 

***

 

On a large computer screen in his office, Collins had CCTV footage playing - the sealed footage from security cameras at the sushi restaurant in Colorado Springs.  To the side of that, Facebook and Instagram posts of the winner of that bodybuilding show were displayed.  “He is enormous,” Collins thought.  “And that ‘laughable’ fight is almost otherworldly to see.  The big man was damned fast, efficient, and brutal.  And his strength is getting closer to me and Will… He works in the right environment.  But he could be just well trained, that one in a billion outlier from the norm that crops up in human evolution ....  

 

Collins stopped the CCTV film dead and zoomed in to one side of this Declann.  He focused on a much smaller man.  Black hair, almost petite but still lightly athletic frame, and the face… “Holy shit.  Gabriel York.  That British sonofabitch….”  Collins whispered under his breath.  The wheels began to turn in Collins mind.  Old papers he had read in the academic journals when he was working on his own research.  The class in advanced genetics and neurophysiology he took from York in his last semester of medical school.  If there were anyone who could wander into the discovery on his own… Collins picked up his cell phone and left his office.  He needed to make a call, but first, he needed to tell the others …

 

Collins raised his voice to a summons.  “Will…”

 


 

BOOM.   BOOM.  BOOM.  BOOM.

 

An ungodly loud knock at the door startled Brenda Heath.  She sighed.  Only one group ever knocked that loud.  No.  Oh God, not now, she thought.  Not when she looked like this.  She quickly got up and looked at her face in the mirror next to the door.  The swelling was down, but the bruises - the bruises were still deep and visible.  She wanted to scream in despair.  Jeff would … if she didn’t answer, and it was one of his people.  But she had been forbidden to be seen like this and he would ....  She sucked back tears as she opened the door…

 

“Hel--” her voice trailed off.  The petite woman looked up and up, up what seemed like over two feet above her even to see a face.  In front of her was the biggest man she had ever seen.  Moreover he was perhaps the hottest man she has ever seen.  Nothing like the usual creeps--

 

“I’m … I’m sorry, but Jeff isn’t here right now.” spilled quickly and nervously out of her mouth.  “He will not get off and be home until ten or so tonight.”

 

The giant man didn’t look at her like the others did.  He looked so -- so kind, she thought.  The deepest, yet richest voice she had ever heard in her life resonated through her soul as he spoke with such concern and caring.  “I know Brenda.  I know.  That is why I am here.”  He opened his credential and showed his badge.  

 

His real identification.  His real badge.  His real name.

 

“Brenda, we have met before a number of times, though you will not remember me.  Me like this anyway.  

 

“My name is John Declann.  And I need to talk to you…”

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