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Chapter -6-

Communication Breakdown

December 4, 9:00 pm PST San Francisco, California ...

** Reno's dark eyes** lifted, staring up at the lights and signs outside of the old BPI nightclub complex. He curled his toes within his shoe and winced at the sharp pain of the small toe, second from the end. Nevada thought back to how he broke the toe, kicking something out of anger back at the house.

He drew in a deep breath then sighed in frustration from the pain. The light bulb from the other night healed right away. The wound sealed itself the night Abby Chase came by. The night his power manifested. But a broken bone seemed to mend slower than flesh.

He fished out a bottle of pain killers, Advil and Tylenol mixed together. It had no label. He stared at the bottle for a moment then frowned. He recalled Greg warning that Advil and Tylenol were against the rules in regards to mending bones.

He sighed, tucked the bottle back into his jacket pocket and looked back up at the nightclub ... his very first experience with an esoteric being. He didn't know it at the time, but now he saw things differently. Now things made sense. Now he needed to see the one other man he knew had an ability along with connections.

Memories flooded his mind. Up until the night he died on the rooftop of Pages Lost and walked away from it with the ability to throw lightning, the BPI Complex incident had been the weirdest case in his life.

He'd avoided the place for a long time. He wasn't too happy about coming back to the building's remains. Reno considered his newest 'phenomenon' and frowned. He looked back down the street where his car sat, stalled out, at the mouth of an alley. He grumbled about the starter being electric, took a deep breath and glanced back towards the old nightclub.

Reno walked towards the entrance with a slight limp. His foot throbbed with the sensation of pins and needles from testing his new healing ability. He wiggled his toes again, followed by a wince.

Reno approached the main entrance and took a moment to compose himself. Game time.

The ex-inspector pushed against the double doors but they didn't budge. He peered in through a glass window adjacent to the doorway.

Two men watched him from the stairs above his head. Reno saw them, and glanced up at the balcony. Their eyes were glued on him, leering. One of them leaned on a banister. The thug postured with an imposing demeanor.

Nevada knocked on the entrance of the once popular club. He glanced over his shoulder at the opening of an alley across the way, narrowed his eyes, then gazed back into the first story window. He paused and stole a quick look upwards. A second man leaned over the railing. Their eyes met.

Eddie.

Reno grit his teeth, recognizing the thug. 'Dammit. That guy? Shouldn't that jackass be dead by now, or something?'

The ex-con leaned over the side of the balcony, directly above the main entrance, mirroring his buddy. Eddie cleared his throat, creating a raspy, phlegmy sound. The thug offered a smile full of crooked golden teeth and said, "Yo cracka', what do you wont?"

Reno's head eased back. He glared up at Eddie. The ex-inspector stepped away from the entrance and narrowed his gaze. Silence.

Reno's thoughts turned to the club owner, someone he'd not seen in over a year. Did he really wanna go through all of this drama just to talk to this guy's boss? "Where is Trajen?"

"Trajen?"

Nevada sighed. "You know, Trajen; the surprisingly classy man who is surrounded by goons like the two up on the balcony right now. That Trajen."

Trajen's doorman came down the metal stairs, a grimace on his face. Eddie had a noticeable limp as well; his was faked and gave in to his gangbanger persona. He stopped adjacent to Nevada. They sized each other up.

Reno wondered if Eddie was mocking his own limp or was trying to look tough. He avoided eye contact, folded his arms and said, "I need to see Trajen. Now."

He flipped his wallet open. The light glinted off of a piece of metal he wedged into one of the folds. It was a replica of a real badge but Eddie didn't need to know that. Reno folded it back up, quickly shoving it into the pocket of his jacket.

"You know I used ta' be a..." Eddie trailed off, not one to out himself in regards to his shady past. "I was'a resident of LA. That shit don't scare me." Eddie faked a yawn at the badge.

"I'm not trying to scare you. I'm following procedure and identifying myself. I don't just uphold the law; I follow it, too. So ... Trajen?" Reno knew the guy's rap sheet. Eddie's ego grew three-fold since BPI shut down, due to the fact that he was making so much money off of dealing. Reno couldn't arrest him even if he wanted to.

"Trajen, huh?" Eddie grinned. "Everybody wonts ta see dat niggah - yet no one gets to."

Reno narrowed his gaze. "I hate that goddamn word. Now get him out here."

The man shook his head and moved towards Reno. His tan Timberland boots stopped about three feet in front of Nevada. "Whot's yo bid'ness?" he asked. His gold teeth caught a glint off a neon Miller Lite sign, which hung in the nearby window.

Reno balled his hands into fists. His knuckles turned white.

"You constipated? Or just retarded, cop?"

"I hate that goddamn word, too." Nevada narrowed his eyes and glanced at the neon beer sign. One of the glass tubes burst, causing a quick flash then it sputtered into darkness.

Eddie's attention jerked towards the busted neon sign in the window.

"I don't have time to fuck around, got it? Just tell him ... Reno Nevada wants to see him." The ex-Inspector glanced over his shoulder, furtively, checking the mouth of the alleyways across the street.

Ed's beady brown eyes shot back to Reno. "Whot's yo last name?" He flashed his toothy grin again, bent at the waist just a bit, and chuckled as if to show that he wasn't intimidated. "Awh shit, Fuzz, ho'dup a sec then. Ah'll call that fool," he said, his head shaking, still chuckling.

"Tell him it's Nevada. As in Reno - the place where I'm going to burry your corpse if you don't hurry it up."

Eddie raised his brows but remained otherwise unaffected. He cleared his throat to hide the incredulous expression caused by Reno's surprise threat.

"Today."

"Yeah, cop. Chill out, man." He turned his back and pulled out a small Ericsson Cellphone from the pocket of his jeans. Two or three rings later the phone connected to one of the two cellular phones that Trajen owned.

The man on the other end answered. Eddie cleared his throat. "What's the hap's? I'm down on Grant and I got a white bald fool named Reno Nevada wid' a badge." Eddie glanced back to Reno and smirked. "Uh-huh ... uh-huh." Eddie turned on the heel of his Timberland boots, then back, facing the cop again. "A'ite," he said, placing his hand over the phone for a moment. "He wonts to know what you wont?" He pulled his hand up from the microphone and adjusted the flat bill of his Giants hat.

Reno ran his hands up over his hairless head. He pulled his fingertips down on his cheeks, trying to keep his temper in check. "I need some information. I think he could answer my questions." His eyes zeroed in on one of Eddie's tattoos then moved to a piece of colored clothing sticking out of the man's pocket.

The former cop recognized Eddie as a member of the Crips and reminded himself not to start any violence. He sighed and folded his arms again. "Trajen would be royally pissed off if he wasn't in the loop about something I discovered."

"A'ite, whatever." His lips thinned into a long, straight expression. He took a moment, and then stuck the blue and gray cellular in the direction of Nevada. "Then you jus' talk to him, y'self."

Reno stared at the cell phone for several seconds. He couldn't get his car to start back up and now he was supposed to use a phone? He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. 'All I have to do is concentrate.'

His right hand lifted, his index and middle finger fiddled against each other briefly, as if to somehow dispel static charge. Reno reached out, took hold of the phone and drew calm relaxed breaths. 'All right, so far ... so good,' he thought.

Eddie leaned back against the main entrance to the old club.

Pressure built against Reno's temples and he focused his mind to gain some form of control. He pressed the phone to his jaw. "Trajen?"

On the other end there was a soft chuckle. "Mr. Nevada?" The calm, well-spoken voice seemed laughable at first, considering Reno's situation. Trajen asked, "What would bring a man like yourself back to my doorstep?"

Reno stared at the trashy idiot with the gold teeth before turning around. He lowered his voice. Static filled the background, which had taken over the moment Reno touched the phone. "I need to know where I can find a guy who is rumored to distribute drugs as a front for his personal scientific operations."

Trajen grew quiet.

"Did I say something that bothered you?"

"Mr. Nevada, my return to San Francisco wasn't announced. I can't be sure if you showing up now, at my doorstep, is accidental fate or some sort of design. It seems odd that an ex-homicide detective would show up on the steps of my old club like old times."

"I see. Not sure what you mean by any of that, but I'm surprised you know about my employment status."

"I deal information. That's why you came to me, isn't it? So, you asked about a drug front and a scientist. Which one?"

Reno blinked. 'There's more than one in San Francisco?' he thought. He gently squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Aris Falcon." Nevada's head turned a bit, giving occasional glances behind him. He couldn't help but keep his eye on the man standing behind him. Police training? No, perhaps it was more the fact that Edward was just plain creepy.

Eddie glanced back up at his partner who came down the metal steps. He stood besides his friend. The gangster leaned over and muttered into his buddy's ear, "I hope he runs wid the phone. I wanna excuse ta whoop his ass."

On the other end of the cellphone, Trajen paced. "Aris Falcon ... Aris Falcon, hmm. I will find out for you. What is a phone number you can be reached at? After all, Reno, I owe you a tiny favor for turning that homicide at my club into a one-man investigative deal. It would have really hurt me, having a whole team there, right?"

Reno certainly didn't want to make it that easy for these low life losers to come breaking down his door. "I'll be back in a few days. I have to relocate some people who are close to me then I have to get myself together, because a lot of things have changed for me, lately. Things that only you would understand if you get my meaning. Things I doubted about you the last time we spoke."

"Oh?"

"Let's just say I'm less closed-minded than before. I'll be back to call you in a few days. Be sure to have something for me," he said. Hell, he was surprised none of these guys had tried to 'off' him yet. He kept his eyes on Eddie and the other guy.

Nevada thought back on the case from a year ago. Not that he learned much, other than the fact that Trajen and his staff would have killed him if he didn't pull strings to keep a simultaneous murder investigation at that club under wraps.

The club owner gave Reno the killer. In return, Nevada kept the rest of the feds away from the building, in exchange for them letting him live. That weekend, everyone smiled, nodded, complied with the law ... Reno kept himself alive, and other cops from getting too close to something that would have gotten any other less street-savvy officer killed. In the end, Reno solved the case.

Nearly invisible to the naked eye, a wisp of smoke rose from the cell phone. Trajen added, "Hm. Well, then. Sorry to hear you were let go. They shouldn't have put that in the paper, you were a good cop," he said. "We will speak soon, Mister Nevada." Trajen ended the connection from his end.

"That we will," Reno muttered, lowering the phone and closing the top. He turned to Eddie and tossed the cooked cell phone at him. The circuits had melted into goo inside the plastic shell.

Nevada's hands disappeared into his pockets, and he stepped back towards the curb, his head switching from left to right. Once it was clear, he moved across the street, back towards where he left his car parked.

Eddie lifted the phone then frowned. He thumbed the buttons but nothing happened. The doorman ground his teeth together, glaring at the ruined Ericsson. The gangster stared down at his phone, confused, then cut his gaze from the dead screen, back to the departing Reno. "What the hell...?" His eyes bounced back from the cop to his phone. He flipped the object over, and popped the tab on the back. The battery dropped to the ground. The label bubbled from heat. Eddie plucked the SIM card from the back of his phone, sneering. "That mudda fucka." He looked to his right hand man, grinding his teeth.

X

---

X

Fifteen minutes later...

** Reno** Nevada glanced over his shoulder. He sighed in frustration. His Monte Carlo's V6 hummed softly. In the rearview mirror, a motorcycle with a sidecar turned into the street at the end of the block. Its headlight was dark.

Some lady had been following him since he left the BPI Complex. From the way she acted, Reno assumed she was a cop who'd been tailing him since the incident at Lucy's Café.

She came out of a side-street alley a block down from where that idiot Eddie and his goon-buddy were hanging out. He noticed her watching him while on the phone with Trajen. Nevada frowned, trying not to grow frustrated.

Reno was running out of options that would get him in the clear. "Dammit, I need to lose this crazy chick."

He took another street and turned into an alley. It was blocked off with a brick wall up at the end. He pulled up close to the wall and shut off the engine and got out then locked the door.

With a sigh, Reno climbed up onto the hood. He bent his knees and leapt up. His feet skipped off the wall, unable to gain traction. He felt like he was running in place like a cartoon character, unable to boost himself upwards.

He struggled to pull himself to the top. His grunts echoed off the alley walls.

"You're out of shape," he told himself, tensing his upper body. "Bad cop; no donut for you, buddy." He took a deep breath. "Now get up over this wall, dammit," Reno added, throwing his right leg up to help pull himself over the brick wall.

Not realizing how thin the wall was, he flopped over the other side, landing in a green recycling dumpster. Office stationary cushioned his unceremonious landing.

The top of the dumpster flopped shut. "Not again," Reno whispered with a sigh. Outside, he heard the sound of scuffling then a loud thump. The tailing officer landed on the hard plastic top of the dumpster and hopped off gracefully. Reno held his breath.

After a few minutes of waiting, he sat up in a pile of papers and bags of shredded documents. He eased the plastic lid open. A woman stood in silence at the end of the alleyway. She panned her gaze from left to right, staying far enough in the mouth of the alley to remain in the shadows. Reno carefully pulled himself over the lip of the dumpster and lowered himself to the asphalt. He walked with a light step, on the balls of his feet, careful not to make a sound.

Coming up behind her, he reached his left arm around her neck and cupped his palm over her mouth. His fingers came beneath her jaw at an angle, so she couldn't open her mouth. His palm stayed over her lips tightly.

His right arm came around her waist, pulling her back from the mouth of the alley, back towards the dumpster. She struggled, stomping on his foot. Oddly, the pain in his toe stopped. He couldn't be sure if it was from adrenaline or if it was because she re-broke the toe and it became aligned and instantly healed correctly.

Nevada spun her around and pushed her back up against the dumpster. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. "I'm a cop, lady; relax. I don't need you pulling out some defensive throws on me, because I've been through a lot. Just hold still, don't scream and tell me why in the hell you've been following me."

She huffed with indignation. "Following you?!" Her words were muffled against his palm.

"Yes, like an amateur."

Reno eased his left hand from her mouth. "Go ahead."

She spoke in an excited yet hushed voice, "I'm Special Agent Samantha Summers. Are you Ex-Inspector Reno Nevada?"

Nevada stepped back, reaching to stroke at the goatee on his chin. "Never heard of him," Reno fibbed, squinting to look her over. She had a nice figure to say the least.

"Did you just lie to me? I can't believe you just lied about who you are," she snapped, placing her fists on her hips. "You're a real son of a bitch, killing four men in public then telling me you're a cop, and then saying you've never heard of Reno Nevada. That name is on every police scanner up and down the West Coast."

Reno balked. Not because of her accusation, but because she called him out for lying when she, herself, was lying about following him, as well as her credentials.

"Don't give me that look, mister!"

"What the hell is your problem, lady? I wanted to know why you're following me and you're asking me if I'm Reno Nevada. This isn't how it works, 'Special Agent' Summers. You answer me, then if I like the answer, I reply to your next question."

She smirked, folding her arms across her chest. "And if you don't claim to like the answer, where do we go from there?"

"I keep asking until I get an answer I can be satisfied with," Reno mused, adding, "Then we move on to your turn. So, why in the hell are you following me, Samantha Summers?"

"You killed four men at a diner, methodically." She paused then continued, "You didn't have a gun. You simply threw one man into another and somehow both men are dead. Only one of them had been riddled with bullet holes. The other two appear dead but there was no sign of gunfire or weapons. There's one man with a broken neck. So you're either highly trained or your victim was unfortunate and broke it in the fall. My agency has identified you as Inspector Reno Nevada."

Reno tilted his head slightly. "Very nice answer. Agency, huh?" He grinned. "Yes, I'm Reno Nevada; I'm claiming self-defense but I didn't flee the scene. I had a personal circumstance to take care of, due to the nature of that attack. Okay, your turn; what's your question?"

"How did you do it?" Samantha stepped away from the dumpster he'd put her up against.

"I rushed into the fight so fast that it wound up shocking the hell out of him," he said, with a slight grin. Even in the dim lighting, she saw his Cheshire expression.

"Funny," she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"I thought so," Reno mused. He could tell by her expression that she must have thought he meant 'shocked' as in 'surprised' ... Reno didn't bother explaining the double meaning of his wordplay.

"How did you do it; I'm not satisfied with your answer," she told him, playing his game right back at him.

"Oh! You're funny, too! Neat," Reno noted casually. His smile faded.

Summers tilted her head, staring in his face. "Don't hate the player. Hate the rules and hate the game. So, how did you do it, Mister Nevada?"

Reno shook his head. He reached his hands up over the smooth flesh above his brows. "I used a high-power Taser. When I threw one man, it electrocuted another. The first man, before he was shot up, was zapped and the man whose head was introduced to the Buick was shocked, too."

"All right, I can buy that theory," she mused aloud. "I've never heard of it being employed in such a way, but perhaps if it's a Taser that's been modified, I can buy into that possibility."

"You can't Colombo me by pretending to assume things out loud and hope that I'll correct you. Nice try, though."

The agent folded her arms and said, "Your turn, Mister Reno Nevada. Nice name, by the way. What brings you to California, I wonder?"

"Hmm, you're going out of order. I may have to end the game if you keep breaking the rules," he said with a playful smirk. He wanted more information at this point, so he wasn't ready to end this investigation on some technicality just yet. "Have you ever heard of Aris Falcon?"

"No, I've never heard of her," Summers replied.

"Really," Reno chortled softly, "Aris Falcon isn't a 'her.' Aris Falcon is a genetics and bioengineering research development scientist. From what I understand, he's a real asshole, too. Did you leave a footprint in my hood, getting over that wall?"

She blinked, gawking at him. "No, of course not! What in the hell kind of question is that?"

"Good to hear and it's a perfectly acceptable question. As was yours just now; I love that Monte Carlo," Reno said. "Since that was your question, here's my next one: What does my profile tell you when I was identified?"

She ground her molars together. "I can't tell you that," she replied in a flat tone.

"Then this interview is over. I've got to go, anyhow," Reno told her.

Samantha reached to grab his arm. "You can't go, I have to arrest you!"

Reno rolled his eyes, reaching for her wrist with his other hand. He peeled her grip from his bicep.

She reached for her gun, unholstering it. She placed the muzzle against his chest.

"You've got to be kidding," Reno scoffed.

"The hell I am!"

The Inspector sighed. "Listen, lady ... you're an amateur. You're an AGENT, not a Special agent. An agent of what, I can only wonder ... Maybe you've been put on this case because you begged for street time and you don't know what my profile says in detail - why? I dunno. Maybe because you're taking the initiative on this case, starting tonight. One thing is for sure, though. You've not been briefed; you learned my name from the radio scanner."

"How dare you...!"

"You probably heard the attack at Lucy's Café on your police scanner, over an hour ago, and wanted to get the gold medal," he continued, shaking his head. He sighed then told her, "You start hunting. You see the guy you think is responsible leaving the old BPI Nightclub, you know it's a seedy joint that burned down a while ago. Next, you get excited. Then you start tailing me and decide I must be the guy from the diner attack. Pulling your gun is nothing more than a threat because you never even turned your safety off. You have no idea how those men were killed because there is no way anyone had enough time to send you the information on it yet; no district autopsies have been performed, which means the city technically doesn't know if they were murdered or killed by a freak accident. Since I haven't had due process, I haven't been proven guilty. Instead, you want an admission of guilt from me, right now, which you think you've obtained loosely. Now what? Let's see ... You arrest me, I won't get a lawyer or a phone call because you're either an idiot or you're federal. Hell, you probably don't even recall how to properly recite Miranda Rights. Also, you probably do know of Aris Falcon because you glanced to the left briefly when I mentioned the name."

"I..."

"Finally, you're impressed that I know all of this but you're going to play dumb and feign stupidity so that control over your suspect isn't taken out of your hands. All you want is to prove something in the end because you're one of those people with distorted views on right and wrong. The difference, for you, is as contrast as black and white, day and night."

"Mr. Nevada, I..."

"All you know is that I've done something wrong and you're going to bring me to justice. In the end, my personal reasons for defending myself against four men aren't reason enough to make it 'right'. Therefore, I've fallen from white to black, because there are no shades of gray in the land of Law and Justice. Is there?"

"How dare..."

"Yeah, no. I've got you figured out, kid. For you, justice is a twisted religion but you never realized that getting into this would be getting you over your head. You're like a defense lawyer trying to defend your client, but you don't have any faith in the system so you're doing it half-heartedly and by your own rules. Jesus H. Christ, you're green behind the gills," Reno said. He drew quiet and folded his arms. Silence. He smiled. "Does it make you mad that I called you out on all that, having just met you and all?"

"You ... are a huge asshole," Samantha snapped. She pulled the trigger. It clicked but nothing happened, as her safety was still engaged. She pulled it again, then reached her thumb for the safety switch. "You Goddamn asshole," she repeated, pulling the trigger again. The gun clicked; her magazine was empty.

Reno's eyes widened, reflecting the dim illumination of waning luna that filtered in from above. "You were going to shoot me and didn't even realize your gun was empty? What kind of wannabe cop are you?"

Without reply, Summers reached behind herself and pulled out a clip from the utility compartment on the back of her gear belt. She slapped the magazine home, cocked the slide on the weapon and pointed it back at Reno who quickly realized he was dealing with an overly emotional woman.

"Will you just relax?!" Reno exclaimed, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Let's go out into the light for a moment, because maybe seeing my face will help you tell when I'm just chiding ya; let's go. Don't get defensive, just walk with me."

She allowed him to guide her towards the mouth of the alley until they were on a street corner. The road was lined with street lamps and an occasional car drove by at a leisurely pace.

"Who do you think you are?" she asked, poking him in the gut with the gun.

"Do you mind, newbie? In this country, guns kill more people on accident than they do when used with intent," Reno told her. "It's not exactly a statistic but I'm a Homicide cop, so don't argue with me."

"Yeah. It's the only thing I know about you. There's no real profile on you. Your office shredded all the files on you."

Nevada grimaced. "Sanders..."

Summers smiled and looked away. "I called your bluff and, to an extent, it worked. You did actually admit that you are Reno Nevada, after all. You did admit knowledge of four men being killed in the parking lot of Lucy's Café."

"Wow. You get a gold freaking star for that shit. Good job, ace."

"World wide, guns are used for hunting more than both intended and unintended human targets, combined," she said in a low tone.

"Wrong," Reno snapped. They both grew quiet. His facial expression changed once he could see her feminine visage in the lighting. He always had a soft side for a pretty girl with kind eyes. "If you really believe that, take a trip over to the Middle East. They sure don't hunt deer, rabbits or field mice with AK-47's."

His words caused her to frown thoughtfully, nodding in casual agreement. "I ... suppose you're right," she mused. The hammer was un-cocked and she lowered the weapon at a forty-five degree angle. It was a start, regardless. "I didn't hear about the parking lot brawl on a police scanner. I saw the whole fight from my binoculars. But while tailing you, I kept the police scanner on, where I heard your name mentioned."

"And you were watching ... why?" Reno couldn't help but frown. He was on the verge of feeling paranoid at this point.

She paused with a frown, about to admit that he was partially right. Finally, she just sucked it up and said, "I like to eat at Lucy's Café, Jim makes good food. Because the Police Scanner kinda reported that a dangerous felon who left the police department after being dismissed for disorderly conduct had snapped completely. You were described in detail, so I snuck out the back and started watching you from across the street. I sat in my car and then I saw those guys open fire on the place. You came out and ripped them into pieces. I don't have a profile, just a description and there's something interesting about you I can't put my finger on, so I followed you on a hunch, making a guess at your name."

"Good hunches ultimately help to make good cops," Reno mused to her surprise. Her face lit up just a bit at the roundabout compliment. "So are you here to arrest me for homicide? There's just one hole in your story ... you were outside with binoculars? Then you suddenly heard about me being released on the street from your police scanner and you dipped out the back of the diner? Okay, so ... you're here to arrest me, right?"

"Yes, I am," she told him, nodding slowly. "I know you're supposed to be an ex-homicide inspector, Reno Nevada but Law is Law. You can enter a plea of self-defense, after all. Either way, you have to come with me for questioning and processing. Law is Law," she repeated.

Reno shook his head slowly. "Not when it's manipulated by another power. I was suspended and fired because of someone telling the cops I was working on a case that I wasn't heavily perusing anymore. Miss Summers, this happened because I was told not to intervene. Low and behold, I was being kept from doing my job by this person and now it sounds like they might be behind my name suddenly being popular on the police scanner."

"If I bring you in, you'll be safe from being hunted down by more men with big guns," Samantha told him, adding, "We can sort this thing out and find real justice. I don't want you to lose your faith in the system. It works."

"The system works until orders are coming from people like Krys Monroe," Reno muttered. "Like I said, Agent Summers: You're new and don't understand that there are underworld politics at work here. I want to help you make your first real bust so you have some experience and feel good and happy about your job but I can't be your first bust," Reno continued. He paused briefly then added, "Do yourself a favor and don't tell your superiors that you ran across me because it gets both of us in hot water."

"Are you kidding?" she groaned. "You're going to jail; you killed four men in front of Lucy's café, over an hour and a half ago!" She lifted the weapon and cocked the hammer back.

Reno sighed, not wanting to fight the nice lady with the good heart, who was only doing her job. She wasn't an enemy. She was the Good Cop type ... that is ... if she really was a cop. Reno couldn't decide. Half of what she said didn't make any sense. The barrel leveled with his face. He frowned.

"Are you actually a bounty hunter? No, wait, you aren't street savvy enough for that profession. Look, sweetheart, I'm going to be leaving now," Nevada said softly and slowly. "I'll even call your cell phone from a payphone when I know something ... if you give me your card."

"No, you're not going anywhere," Summers told him. "So just stop right there, Criminal."

"Are you serious?" Nevada balked, feeling insulted. "Are you really goddamn kidding me, lady? I know you're naïve but I've got to stop the headcheese in a triple homicide in Golden Gate Park. If I've gotta solve this case Dirty Harry style, so be it. The Justice System failed; I'm doing my job."

"You've murdered four men." Her rebuttal was surprisingly stoic. She tilted her head and added, "Once the city has done autopsies, matched the prints to the assault weapons and has real evidence to prove that you were acting in self-defense, you can leave and go about your merry way. However, even though I was a witness to it, I have to bring you in for holding, questioning and to get all of this pieced together."

Reno placed his palms on either side of her face, much to her surprise, and then leaned forward. He could feel the barrel against his chest but he continued to lean forward, until he kissed her forehead. "You're adorably sweet, Agent Samantha Summers, but I've got to hurry. Sitting in jail for a few days won't help me. I'm sorry, but I'll contact you. What agency?"

"I'm ... Interpol and I'm ... in training," she said, blushing fiercely. She gave him a sudden shove. "And you've got to go to jail, Inspector Nevada. I'll turn you in to Internal Affairs and then you can post bail instead of sitting. Now, do I have to handcuff you?"

"As much as I'd like for you to handcuff me," Reno chuckled softly, "I'll be seeing you around, Miss Samantha Summers." He started to walk down the block, heading towards the next alleyway so he could get back to his car. He shook his head and under his breath, chuckled, "Interpol my ass." Suddenly, Summers broke into a sprint, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

Samantha wasn't having it. "NO! You've broken the law and killed four men. If you had the ability to kill them with your bare hands, then you're using excessive force. You should have had the ability to incapacitate with that Taser you mentioned. Now hold still, I want to check to see if you're armed, then I want to take you back to my car!"

Reno raised his brows. He was on the verge of frustration with her but the amusing thing was, he was actually finding this entire situation somewhat comical.

"You're a hot cop chasing a bad-boy ex-detective renegade. Don't you see the satire in this?" he asked, turning to face her. "Don't you see how cliché this is? I mean come on; this is a bad television show of the week at best. And if that were the case, it would go something like this: I take pity on you and ask you to help me bring down Krys Monroe and Aris Falcon. You become the comedic screw up that everyone loves because you're hot, then at the very end, you prove yourself and save the day. Well, you know what?"

Her lower lip trembled, eyes wide. "...What?"

"I can handle it alone, lady. This guy is supposed to be the real deal, scary as hell. You'll get yourself killed and I'll feel guilty because this is the real world. And as far as fans of the cliché show, who want to see the main male and female protagonist hook up? It's not going to happen because Falcon murdered my fiancée and I've got to go and beat his ass for it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go."

"Don't make me shoot you," Summers warned, pinching her scarlet lips together in a thin line of threat.

"Would you please? Then I can go back to my girl. Else, we're finished here. Good night," Reno said, starting to grow impatient, quickly. To his surprise, she lifted the gun, keeping a rather relaxed stance and aiming for his head. He just kept walking, looking over his shoulder at her, half wondering if she was going to accidentally kill him. That's all he freakin' needed.

"I said stop. Freeze and lay upon the ground with your hands upon your head," she told him, adding, "Do it. Now."

"Shoot me or go away," Reno called over his shoulder in reply, turning towards the next intersection. Before he could disappear around the corner, she pulled the trigger. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the weapon discharge and his body reacted by fueling him with a sudden electrical surge of energy. The burst of the gunshot rang out and the bullet sped forward, slamming into his body.

Every cell in his body was charged by the charge of power and, in a freak of nature occurrence, his body reacted on the atomic level. Every atom in his body reacted the same way and he blinked in and out of reality for a fraction of a second. He heard the gunshot but he never felt the bullet. His eyes fluttered shut then opened once more...

The next thing Reno Nevada realized, he stood fifty feet away from the intersection, half way down the next block. He blinked twice and reached for his shoulder where the bullet was supposed to have hit him. "That should have spun me like a top." He glanced around. The bullet was lodged in a facing wall of a corner building, fifty feet behind him.

"What the...?" He looked back at her, further away. Reno decided he could think about his situation later. He thought about shouting at her again. Instead, he did the next thing to come to his mind. He ran.

He ran for his car up the block and around the corner in a nearby alley. Another gunshot rang out.

The dizzying incident happened again as if by some crazy instinctive freak accident. His body seemed to phase between the lines of linear reality, returning once more, after the bullet had passed through him, harmlessly. His eyes widened and her patted himself to make sure he was all in one piece.

Another gunshot.

He blinked and was suddenly another fifty feet away, down by the intersection of the next cross street. The bullet that she fired either passed Inspector Nevada or passed through him, striking the nearest parked automobile.

He heard a glass-shattering sound off to the side but, as disoriented as he was, he didn't know or care which side at this point.

A Ford car alarm began to chirp. Its lights flashed and Reno broke into a sprint once more, making a right into the next alley, to get at his car. She continued running after him but Agent Summers was well over hundred feet behind. He didn't know if he'd blinked. He didn't know if he blacked out for a moment. He didn't know if some sort of freak accident happened or if she just missed, or what the hell was going on. He counted his blessings ... and ran.

The Monte Carlo's engine fired to life and the rear wheels began to spin, pulling the car in reverse. He cut the wheel hard to the left while reaching to tug on the transmission shifter. Swiftly, Inspector Nevada pulled the car into drive, while using his other hand to throw the steering wheel back towards the right. He stomped on the accelerator.

The full-sized coupe lurched forward, arcing in a complete one-eighty. It sped past Agent Summers. She put two slugs into the side rear panel, just behind the backrest of the driver seat. She put another round into the trunk at an angle. Reno stomped on the brakes and mashed his finger on the driver-side window.

"What in the hell?! You're not supposed to shoot at fleeing cars in public; you could hit a fucking bystander! What's your problem, lady?!" he shouted in anger. "I'm serious! You could hit someone other than your target! If you're too emotional to do your goddamn job, you need to find another; I'm serious, Summers!"

She was taken aback, keeping her gun leveled at his car, approaching it carefully. "This some sort of ploy, cop? You trying to do another psychology stunt on me?" She took careful steps towards the car, keeping the weapon trained on the Monte Carlo. "Step out of the vehicle and lay flat face down, hands above your head, fingers interlocked!"

"Did you hear one word I just said to you? Do you KNOW how to do your job, newbie?" Reno snapped, glaring at her. In reply, she shifted her gun to the right, firing off another shot. The small, semi-triangular window behind the driver seat shattered and the bullet disappeared into the upholstery of the back seat.

"I SAID TO STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE," she shouted. She was getting angrier by the minute. "You think you can just shout at me? I don't need your ... your psychoanalytical bullshit about my tactics! Now get out!"

"You're crazy," Reno replied, flooring the accelerator. She shot two more rounds, one of which slammed into the backside of his trunk and another into his back bumper. He cut the wheel to the right, causing the back end to fishtail around, half carrying the vehicle around the corner. Nevada cut the wheel back to the left quickly, so that he didn't over turn, when something caught his eyes further up the road.

Two small orange flashes caused his heart to nearly stop. Assault rifle rounds ripped through the windshield with a third ripping a hole into his passenger-side rearview mirror. The car screeched to a halt.

He put it back into reverse, floored the gas pedal again and glanced over his shoulder. Reno cut it to the left, backing into the intersection quickly, getting the vehicle out of the line of assault rifle fire.

Another gunshot from Samantha Summers grazed the hood of the car. It continued into the bottom of the windshield, causing the glass to spider-web on the passenger-side.

"GODDAMMIT!" Reno shouted. He clenched the wheel in frustration, his patience now spent.

Summers approached, still about fifty yards up the block. To the left, two men with assault rifles were chewing up the front of the Monte Carlo.

Suddenly, the airbags deployed. The sharp punch of the airbag caught Reno hard, knocking him back against the seat. The dazed inspector shook his head, gasping for breath through the thick cloud of twenty-year-old dust that filled the automobile's passenger compartment.

Everything felt slow, muddled. He turned to the driver-side window and squinted in the distance. He saw Summers waving her hands and shouting. Her words went on deaf ears, all sound replaced by a ringing in his head.

He saw Agent Summers body language change dramatically. He assumed she heard the automatic rifle fire from down the road and around the corner. Reno felt palpable relief; he watched her dash for cover.

She headed towards a line of parked automobiles and knelt down behind a random pickup truck parked alongside the sidewalk curb. She paused for a moment then peered around the corner.

The two men with assault rifles approached the Monte Carlo. One of them filled the car's hood with more holes from a closer proximity. The engine sputtered. A loud knocking sound came from under the hood.

The gunman emptied the last of his clip into the car until the engine grew silent. The other gunman reloaded his weapon then pulled the slide. The first gunner followed suit, covered by his partner.

They surrounded the car on either side, trying to squint through the curtain airbags, which half-covered the window. "I don't see him in there!" one of them cried, angrily.

"Are you sure?" said the other, leaning down to look under the car. "Where the hell is he?! There's no way he had time to get out; find him!"

"You fuckin' find him, fat ass," said the first. They continued to argue but never stopped searching for the elusive Inspector Nevada. Reno was nowhere to be found. "Are you telling me he got away? Son of a bitch!" The first gunner shouted, kicking the driver-side rearview mirror completely off the door.

Almost out of nowhere, Reno came up behind the first man, kicking out the back of his knees. Reno wrapped his left arm around the first gunner's neck, using his right hand to reach around, grabbing for the M-16.

There was a struggle and the second gunner aimed his rifle overtop the car, firing off a few rounds. Reno shifted his weight, causing himself and the first gunman to drop to the ground, avoiding the loud gunshots. Reno ground his teeth together, trying to remind himself not to kill them.

'They were just hired thugs; they didn't even use rifle silencers for their guns.'

The second gunner knelt down and squeezed off a few rounds under the car, hitting and killing his partner.

Reno ground his molars together then ... he felt strange again. Displaced. Hot. Dazed. But he realized he was suddenly standing behind the second gunner, who was still crouched over on the Monte Carlo's passenger side.

With a swift kick, he caught the gunner across the jaw, causing the attacker's head to snap to the side. The man crashed to the ground, rolled over and tried to fire his weapon upwards. Somehow, he missed Reno. The inspector appeared to dart to the right in a flash of light. It happened with a mere thought.

Reno kicked the gun clean out of the man's arms, then brought his heel down on the man's neck. He cut his eyes up, saw Summers, then looked back down at the man beneath his shoe. He knew she'd hear him, so he decided to put a show on for her.

"What the hell is your beef with me?!" Reno screamed. There was a vein pressed against his forehead, looking as if he was about to burst from anger. A flash of light danced between his eyes, causing the gunner to gasp.

"You're some sort of freak; no one could have avoided us like that. Your airbags should have been shoved to the side for you to get out of your car," the man muttered so that only Reno could hear him.

"Are you working for Krys Monroe or Aris Falcon?!" Reno added pressure against the gunner's throat, causing the man to struggle. He reached for Reno's ankle in an attempt to lessen the pressure against his neck.

"Man, screw off, I don't know those names," said the fallen gunner.

"There are a lot of you guys on the street; obviously there's a cache of idiots for hire. So you're expendable," Reno told him in a booming, angry voice. "One of you idiots will eventually talk. Since you're not my idiot, I've got to kill you to keep you from calling reinforcements. Nothing personal against you; my grudge is against Krys Monroe and her kooky-assed boss."

Reno, standing beside his Monte Carlo, pulled his left fist up in the air. The thug looked up, eyes wide, trying to see what Nevada had in his hand. Reno mashed his thumb in on a small object and the car's trunk popped open. "You shot my car to shit, but it seems the battery is still good."

Nevada dropped the keys on the ground, then reached into his trunk and pulled out a police issue shotgun. He pointed the barrel in the man's face. "Some cops don't load the gear they store in their trunk. Wanna call my bluff? Or do you want to tell me where I can find your boss? Don't worry, I won't rat you out."

"Fuck you, pig," said the injured gunman, bleeding from his mouth. He spit a loose tooth onto Reno's shoe. "You're not even a cop anymore. You're nothing more than a target of the week."

"Yeah?" Reno lifted the shotgun, pulling the trigger. Buckshot tore off the remaining mirror on the passenger side of his car, then he pointed the now-empty shotgun in the man's face, ready to bluff for real this time. "I'm so OCD about making both sides of my car match. Your friend is filled with holes. Wanna see how OCD I am about making you both match, or do you want to talk?"

"Jesus Christ, you're crazy!" exclaimed the gunner, ending on a gasp for air, feeling the sole push against his throat. The barrel of the empty shotgun came to rest on his forehead. The man could feel the warmth caused from its prior use. "We were hired by a man named George Zukis! Chill; he's a white guy with a beard who can be found once or twice a week at the Pages Lost Nightclub!"

Nevada rolled his eyes. "Zukis is dead. His buddies filled him full of holes in front of Lucy's Café. I know, he was my body shield," Reno said, shaking his head. "Now, tell the truth."

The thug shouted in protest, exclaiming, "I am! He survived because he was wearing class-two heavy armor. He also survived an electrocution. And he's got it out for you real bad! We just got the job less than half an hour ago!"

"HEAR THAT, Summers?" Reno shouted from behind the Monte Carlo, "I only killed three men. One of them survived. If you'd stayed on the scene, you'd know that already. I guess nobody told you, or they didn't put that part on the police scanner, huh? Guess they don't tell you everything, after all, huh?" He glanced back down at the gunner and said, "Sorry. That fake Interpol lady over there has been shooting at me before you guys showed up."

"Just let me go man, I told you what I know!" The attacker shouted loud enough for anyone in the area to hear.

"How do I know you're not going to go back there and report that I'm alive?" Reno said in the same flat, loud voice, as though mocking the gunman.

Then again, Reno felt the mock shouting had its purpose, knowing that the 'Agent' lady was in the vicinity. "What keeps you from going back to Pages Lost and talking to this George Zukis guy, personally? I nearly trashed the Pages Lost Night Club not very long ago. I am ready to burn the whole thing down. I can't let you go and tell them I'm coming for them."

"LOOK, man!" the gunner cried. "I make ten grand a job because it pays for my child support and my addictions! But ten grand isn't enough to die for! I'm going to leave town with the money I have. Just let me GO!" he pleaded.

Reno pulled his foot away from the man's neck, leaned down and snatched him up by his throat. The shotgun was thrown to the ground and he used both hands, forcing the man up against the remains of the Monte Carlo. "I loved that car, asshole," Nevada growled softly.

Suddenly, he had a flash of a premonition ... the last vestiges of the temporary gift bestowed by Abigail Chase, the gypsy girl.

In the momentary vision, Reno saw the gunman in Cancun Mexico, then in San Diego trying to work things out with his kid's mother, then as a forty year old, nervous about explaining sex to his kid before prom. Nevada narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on the man's collar.

"Head to Mexico and don't come back until you're ready to repair things and become a better father. You little shit head. If you ever mention my name again, I'll find you and kill you. When your fuckin' kid wants to go to the senior prom, suggest some fuckin' condoms and common-fuckin'-sense you little weasel. Now GO!" Reno gave the man a shove.

The gunner slumped over, besides the car, next to the shotgun. He glanced over at it then looked back at Reno, uncomprehendingly. After a short stare-down, the man picked himself up and started walking away without a word. He got to the end of the block and glanced over his shoulder for a moment.

"Hey, Lot's wife, I didn't say you could look back! Now GO!" Reno shouted, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. The ex-Inspector sighed in frustration. He knew he couldn't go around having a soft spot for every man he touched with his hands. No matter how warm and fuzzy the future of these men seemed, Reno knew that they were all dangerous. "I MEAN I WANT YOU TO START RUNNING!" he called down the block.

The fleeing gunman broke into a sprint, disappearing up the next intersection. Reno watched him go until he was completely out of sight.

A metallic sounding click caused Nevada's ears to perk. He felt the cold metal of a gun barrel against the nape of his neck. Nevada spun around, squinting in anger.

He seethed in frustration. Reno turn to Samantha Summers again. Before he could react to the sight of her, his mind turned to training. He brought his hand up instinctually, as if going for her neck. Once his brain registered her face, he froze.

Instead, he grabbed her wrist and another momentary vision filled his mind. This one was far different. He saw something that would make most people blush. He released her wrist. "I ... your gun is in my face, lady."

"You're coming with me," Summers replied. Reno lifted his hand again, using his palm to catch her wrist. He quickly forced her arm up into the air. The pistol fired into the night sky. Reno leaned forward, willing himself to calm down.

First Abby and now Samantha. He pushed the vision out of his mind to the best of his ability. Reno licked his lips then, calmly, told her, "I kept count, now you're out of bullets. How about we go our separate ways? I've had a long night and I really want to lie down and think this out." Until tonight, he never saw future visions, only past occurrences like the last person to touch a discarded murder weapon. It was confusing.

"Just turn yourself in," Samantha said in a way that was almost asking. "We can sort all of this out much better if you just come with me."

"You're a really attractive lady," Reno confided, adding, "But I have an agenda and you're not apart of it." He put his hands on her biceps and moved close, eye-to-eye, nearly nose to nose. She tensed. "So stop waving an empty weapon in my face, sweetheart."

He turned and walked to his car, reached in through a broken window and withdrew a blazer then gave it a shake. Glass and dust came off the fabric. He turned about, leaving his car behind, and drew the blazer over his shoulders then walked down the road.

She lowered her hand, pointing the pistol at him from behind, then sighed. Her eyes dropped to the slide, which was cocked back on the weapon; a sign it was empty. She threw it to the ground, picked up the shotgun from the asphalt, pumped the handle then squeezing the trigger. It clicked; empty. She looked down at the weapon and gawked, coming to realize that he never intended to kill the other gunman with it. She threw the empty shotgun to the ground, and balled her hands into fists.

He was getting away and she felt helpless. She began walking after him.

Meanwhile, Reno's mind raced. He knew he needed to figure some things out, lay low and keep his eyes open. He wanted nothing more than to put the pieces together. It was time to make progress. It was time to figure out a way to stay on the case without endangering his life and the lives of people he trusted. Most importantly, it was time to do some research.

"That was impressive," came a voice to his left. Reno glanced around then stepped into the alley.

"You," he said. "Karla, right?"

"Oh you remembered. You get points." The succubus places her hands upon her hips. A small animal the size of a ferret perked up, sitting on her shoulder.

Upon closer examination, Reno saw a foxtail and vulpine features - ears, jaw and snout. He stared at it for a moment. He decided it had to be some sort of exotic pet, fitting into her eccentric personality archetype. "So, uh, you saw that mess I just made?"

"I also saw you teleport. That isn't an easy one to learn."

"No, no, I was just fast."

Karla giggled softly. "I'll say! I'm sorry about your car but maybe you're going about this all wrong. You can't have people watching you and keeping tabs. You can't have people know your identity. You really should come stay with me and Fox Parker."

"I need to find Abby and Topaz before Falcon kills them. You should stay away from me before you wind up dead."

Karla beamed with delight. "I'm a demon with a healthy sexual appetite, remember? Say, you look really tired, babe."

"You've got that effect on me," he groused.

"I do, don't I?" she giggled. "Seriously, though, it's from expending all that electricity to teleport. You'll burn yourself out, Ten Watt. C'mon, I have a boat. Keep your lightning away from it, though, Sparky, or I'll throw yer ass overboard. It's brand new and it's all mine. So, you in or what?"

"I'm exhausted. I'm not exactly happy about this bullshit electricity thing."

"Oh, Reno, don't be such an _Ohm-_ophobe."

He looked up and to the right. "Christ. Anyway, is it far?"

She patted his cheek and smiled. "No dear. Close your eyes, click your heals together and say, 'I'm Karla's Gilligan,' three times. By then, we'll be there. It's that simple."

"Actually, I _need_to find Topaz Parker and Abby Chase. Just drop me off at my friend Wilfred's place."

"Oh relax! I promise they're fine. You have my word. Now close your eyes, Mister Clean, and keep them shut until I say otherwise. Blipping across the skyline will probably make you sick. It messes with your equilibrium. Hurry up before..."

"Oh my GOD, it's you!"

Kuda stood up on Karla's shoulder. His nose twitched furiously, sniffing at the interloper.

"It's me!" Karla brought her hand up to the fox familiar and ran her nails over his head-fur, scritching gently between his ears. She turned towards Samantha Summers and smiled. "...What's me, dear?"

"You're the woman from that night in the alley!"

"Uhm, refresh my memory?"

Summers looked at Reno then back at Karla and said, "You were with a well-dressed man; not Nevada, here."

"Oh. Possibly Donovan Loupe."

"I was in the alley and a man pushed me up against the wall, trying to..." She trailed off, glanced at Reno again, then lowered her voice. "You got me out of a very bad situation. I'm sorry I ran. I should have stayed and thanked you. I was ashamed."

"Well, dear, no need for shame. I put that creepy douchebag in his place."

Reno tilted his head. "A sexual savant like you goes around punishing rapists? I thought you'd pin them down and eat their ... chi or something."

"No, Reno. I know what it's like. Before my feeding needs manifested. Going after thugs is cathartic. Oh, look at that - big word. Go me." She cut her eyes back to Samantha and said, "Sweetie, you're welcome." Her eyes shifted back to Reno. "I like that. 'Sexual Savant.' But it doesn't really describe me very well. I need to feed but I'm not classy enough for that kind of title. You should see how rambunctious I get after a lay."

Summers looked Karla over, raking her contact-covered eyes over the sex demon's figure. "What's your name? What do you want with Nevada?"

Karla smiled. "Look, I wish I could stay and chat but I'm here to collect Reno. Stay safe!" Karla put her hand on Reno's shoulder then said, "Two to beam out, Scotty! Energize!" and, suddenly, both Karla and Reno vanished.

Samantha looked around with wide eyes then reached her hand forward, passing her fingers through where they'd been standing seconds prior. She turned about but saw no sign of them. Summers stepped back out of the alley, hurried to the next closest one and gazed down it. Empty. "Damn it!" No sign of anyone in any direction. She stomped her foot then tromped back the way she came, towards her car.

From a rooftop above, Reno watched Summers and shook his head. "She's a real firecracker. The girl means well but she rushes to conclusions and gets emotional."

"Pretty girl. Why don't you smooth things out with her and find out what she knows?"

"Just ... could you give me a lift to my friend's house?"

"Oh fine. Whatever. C'mon, Top Cop. Let's get you home before your car turns into a pumpkin and you turn into a hag."

Reno turned and looked down the block. He stared at the Monte Carlo in the distance and sighed. "My brother, my fiancée, my job, my TV, and now my car. It's all coming unglued."

"You'll bounce back, Top Cop. I have faith in you. After all, you've got new friends, new abilities, new responsibilities. For everything you've lost, you're gaining something new. Chin up, buttercup." Karla placed her hand on his shoulder. "You'll have to tell me how to get there. You, uh..." she smiled. "You want me to help you sleep again?"

Kuda slumped to her shoulder, ears lowered. The little animal sighed through his nose.

"I..." He rubbed the side of his head. "We can't let this become a regular thing after tonight." He nodded in the general direction of Wilfred's place. "It's that way."

"I'm a succubus. Attachment isn't in my nature, babe." She gave his shoulder a squeeze. They disappeared from the rooftop.

---

Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/636920