"Mr. Forsythe, sir?"

Remy languidly turned, his simple chair oiled to the point of total 
silence, and smiled towards Lieutenant Dougall through the computer 
screen. As the head of the Maccivelli Syndicate settled his hands 
delicately upon the chair's armrests, the Lieutenant noticed with some 
curiosity a brief glint between his boss's hands.

"Ah, yes, Lieutenant."

The way the space between Remy's hands glinted repeatedly, and in 
different places, but always in a straight, thin line, was 
disconcerting. However, it wouldn't have been wise for the Lieutenant 
to simply stare; he didn't want Mr. Forsythe to, even for a second, 
believe he wasn't attentive enough to be the man in charge of taking 
out the Black Pack.

So why wasn't he talking yet?

Perhaps Lord Forsythe was the type of man that was too patient for his 
own good. In fact, if patience were hard liquor, by all means, he 
would've been on the floor drunk. Plus, he's not the type of person 
that would go to the same chess space twice; he'd always moves his king 
to various different squares. Like for example, he might not be in that 
same chair again, all thanks to the government and the Black Pack 
trying to find him out. He'll probably be in another chair, in another 
building, in another state. And like a chess king, if he were to enter 
the checkmate zone, Game Over for the syndicate. Plus, he's always the 
type of person who likes to come on by for a visit, just to not only 
admire the scenery, but to make sure the syndicate doesn't fall asleep 
on the job.  

"I appreciate your letting me come to see you directly sir, the Black 
Pack hit our dock operations rather hard last night and it seems they 
took a large amount of money."

"Yes," Forsythe said dismissively, eyes not on Dougall at all but on 
the strange phenomenon occurring between his now-moving hands, "I 
heard. Do you have an explanation for this incident, Lieutenant?"

Strangely, Dougall was scared far more by the fact that Forsythe was 
not bothering to look directly at him than he would have been if the 
boss's eyes had been affixed on his own. Or rather, he thought this was 
true until Remy _did_ look up at him again, making direct eye contact 
for the first time. Any rumors he'd heard about the frightening power 
of the Demon were momentarily forgotten, wiped from his mind by those 
sad and amused eyes.

"I left the operation in very capable hands, a trusted man of mine,"

"Found beaten to death this morning." Forsythe's top Lieutenant 
interrupted with a smirk.

"Didn't you know that already, Dougall?" Remy asked, momentarily 
bringing his hands up and closer together, then snapping them apart 
again. The shiny line between them slackened and then tightened, going 
taut with another frightening glitter.

"I had heard he'd been captured, but," Dougall felt himself quaking in 
his shoes and wondered if they would soon be replaced by significantly 
heavier fare. "I,"

"Your orders are simple, Lieutenant Dougall." Whatever cheer had been 
in Remy's voice vanished completely. "Find and eliminate the Black 
Pack. A crew such as themselves, considering how...audaciously they've 
chosen to act...should not be too hard to track down. I expect you to 
kill every last one of them by the end of the week."

"Mr. Forsythe, sir, I,"

"Your shoes?"

"Sir?" 

"Snake skin, yes?" Remy asked as if reading his mind, lazily turning 
once again to face away from the panicked officer. "All snakes can 
swim, did you know that, Dougall?  I doubt, however, that even your 
footwear can save you from a very... wet... end if you don't complete 
the task I expect of you."

Dougall gulped. "I'll take care of them right away, sir, and I promise 
you, no more incidents like those at the docks!" Hurriedly he walked to 
the doors, trying to move with a measure of dignity but looking 
altogether terrified as he nearly galloped past Forsythe's sight.

The top Lieutenant made a disgusted sound after Dougall had gone. He 
liked Forsythe's plan to wear down the Pack while simultaneously 
clearing out the syndicate's incompetents, but that didn't make Dougall 
any less irritating, and his idiocy was hardly funny. Had he not known 
some of Forsythe's personality by now, he would have been surprised to 
hear the quiet man laughing.

"I think that little talk will speed up Lieutenant Dougall's efforts a 
bit." Remy said after his laughter had died down to a chuckle. He 
looked down once again at the line between his hands--silvery and 
razor-thin--and deftly, with a flick of his wrist, snared the tip of an 
errant pencil on his desk. Tugging his hands in opposite directions, he 
watched as the wood was neatly cut just above where the pencil became 
conical. The lost piece clattered on the floor. "Don't you think?"




 tHe bLacK pAcK 



  Day 5: High Speed Is Not A Toy.    



  by MtB; 7/22/2-7/25/2
  This Part: Lord Ryunson, intro by Bard-Kun. 




Willis was overjoyed.

Normally, he wouldn't be particularly happy to find out there had been 
a massive shootout at the city's docks. Even if he possessed a love of 
the job that could be considered obsessive, he was never glad to see 
more corpses.

Well, not usually, anyway.

But when the shootout meant that Willis would have a living witness to 
interrogate--even if that witness was currently circling the drain in
ICU and Willis technically weren't supposed to be there--he was 
downright fucking jubilant. Granted, the witness wasn't supposed to 
have visitors, and probably couldn't talk anyway, and would be rather 
unenthusiastic to speak to any cops, but still, it was a _witness!_

The survivor had been in the remains of one of the trucks, buried 
beneath rubble. One of the rookies sent to sift through the ruins of 
what had apparently been a massive smuggling operation--drugs, weapons, 
the works--had ended up grabbing a destroyed hand as he tried to search 
the scene. That hand was attached to Willis' witness.

'Circling the drain'. As Willis stepped into the buzzing hospital room 
and got his first look at the prone man, he wondered if the drain had a 
garbage disposal. The guy looked like he'd already been through one.

"All right, pal," Willis said, moving to the bed and drumming his 
fingers on the patient's IV tower, "since you're probably not going to 
last much longer, I'll make this very, very quick. Your bosses aren't 
going to help you. They let you get turned into a Krispy Kritter by 
some rival syndicate and instead of trying to come and save you they 
let _us_ pick your remains out of the rubble."

The patient's agonized eyes stared up at Willis, and he struggled 
to work his charred jaw, a whisper of a curse passing his lips. 
Willis cut him off.

"Look. I don't care whom you were working for. Hell, I already have a 
pretty good guess. I just want to know who came in and ripped the shit 
out of your warehouse operation." He leaned in, grimacing at the stink 
of the man's ravaged flesh. "Give me a description, a name, anything. 
If you're still loyal to your bosses, then you can die with the 
knowledge we'll be closer to finding your enemies than you."

".... d." 

Beep.

The heart rate monitor's beeping, which Willis had been able to ignore 
as he'd entered the room, suddenly became far more insistent, the delay 
between beeps shortening more and more with each one. 

"D..."

Willis glanced worriedly at the monitor, then back down at the dying 
man.

Beep. Beep.

"What? What is it?"

Beep Beep.

"Dee...deeee..."

BeepBeep.

"Spit it the fuck out!"

BeepBeepBeepBeep

"Deem...."

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep

"...de..emonnnn.."

beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee---

Willis sighed and straightened as the man exhaled a final time, his 
rotten last breath adding to the smell of his flesh. Fuck. 
No names, no syndicates, no description, no details. It was nothing 
except one word, Demon. 

Willis almost didn't want to acknowledge what that meant. It was easy 
to tell himself the Demon was gone, that it must have been a pretender, 
like the repeat mugger they'd been getting reports of. But this was 
exactly the type of devastation the legendary Demon was known for.

No one knew where he'd been jailed, or even if the feds had let him 
live at all. The idea that Garrick Foster could be walking the streets 
again, armed and dangerous...it worried Willis. He had to get this 
information to O'Neil, and fast. On the plus side, maybe the name would 
get Cap to let Willis off the slasher case and pursue his hunches...

A doctor and nurse, along with one of the cops assigned to the docks, 
were approaching the room, attracted by the monitor's call. Rather than 
stay and explain his off-duty presence in a dead suspect's room to 
them, Willis decided he would make his exit quickly. Fortunately, the 
endless shriek of the heart rate monitor masked his hurried footsteps, 
and he was out of the hospital in minutes.

(End of Bard part) 


In speaking of Garrick Foster, he was riding along in a very sturdy 
motorcycle on the open road. 

"Hey Demon!" Alexander spoke through the transmitter on Garrick's phone 
as the Demon continued to ride along the wind. "How does the motorbike 
feel?"

"I love every second of it." The Demon smiled as he rode his bike 
across the open road with the wind embracing his helmet. "The only 
thing wrong with it so far are these insects, and the fact that I had 
to accept the name Gerry gave it." 



A few hours ago, we find the Demon facing to what would be one of his 
greatest battles known to man, and at the same time, one of the utmost 
tragic. Here, we tell of a very woeful tale of one of the battles that 
the Demon lost in his struggle to remain the nation's most dangerous 
criminal mind ever.  

"For the last time," Demon snarled at his little sister as he looked at 
the well-toned motorcycle. "WE ARE NOT NAMING IT... THE PINK PONY!" 
This was followed by the mention of a devastatingly horrifying name 
that sent chills down his spine even as he spoke it.

"Come on, brother!" Geraldine smiled as she latched onto Richmond's 
arm. "If it weren't for my charm, that bike would NOT be in our 
possession right now!" 

"And let's not forget my own expertise in this operation." Richmond 
patted his darling wife on the back as he smiled. 

"BULLSHIT!" Garrick barked out as he pointed his finger at Richmond. 
"Like you said, that bike was a present to me from you for a job well 
done!" Suddenly, Garrick lowered his head in shame. "Even though it was 
a fake." Then he raised his head high to the sky. "Therefore, we're 
naming it, NIGHTMARE!!" 

"Why would you want a geeky name like Nightmare?" Geraldine smiled as 
she stood by her husband's side. 

"Because Demons and Nightmares go hand to hand. Besides, Pink Pony is a 
name best reserved in children's books, and gay underground graphic 
novels." Demon chuckled a bit as he thought of Geraldine's name for the 
bike. "And besides..." Garrick indicated the jet-black fuselage of the 
vehicle beside him, its sleek, gleaming ebon finish.  "It is NOT 
pink... not by any stretch of the imagination." 

"Well... There's paint in the garage..." 

"NO." He crossed his arms. He later concluded his speech by saying the 
magic words, "So tell me something, are you a child?" 

"No." Geraldine frowned as she crossed her arms. 

"Are you gay?" Garrick smiled as he rained in on his little sister's 
parade. 

"No way in Hell!" Geraldine turned her head in disgust as Richmond 
covered his face in apparent embarrassment. A closer inspection might 
have revealed that he was softly chuckling in amusement.

"Then Nightmare it is!" Demon smiled as he placed his hand on the sleek 
black motorcycle. 

"HEY!!" Geraldine screamed as she shook her arms in frustration. 

"Easy there." Richmond calmed his wife with a back rub. "I know of a 
proper solution to our little... dilemma." Then he later spoke out the 
words that would cause a complete stir in no seconds flat. "A voting 
standoff! Whomever gets the most people in the Black Pack on the side 
of the contestants gets to name the bike."

"You're on!" Demon smiled, confident in his influence on the group. 

Geraldine smiled as she jumped in the air. "Already I'm ahead of you 
two to one, cause hubby's right beside me!" She cheerfully hugged his 
right arm as said husband nodded. 

"Fine then, I'll give you a hint on who's planning the next raid, and 
he's on my side, right Alexander?" Demon smiled as the giant African 
American nodded his head while putting his thumbs up. He didn't look 
too happy to be part of the whole process, but he was all too aware who 
the most dangerous person in the room presently was.

Besides, Garrick was right-Pink Pony was just too fruity. 

"Two to two, impressive." Richmond smiled as he looked at the person 
that would break the tie. "But you got a rather large problem that I 
sincerely believe you'll find... Chilling." 

"You wouldn't." Demon frowned slightly as he looked at Icy. 

She walked down the stairs, doing so in the pronounced, fluid flow that 
made her manner both seductive and forbidding.  Her hair danced as she 
walked on over to Geraldine's side. "I heard you were having an 
argument about a name for that bike." 

"Damn you, Icy." Demon snorted as he saw the teasing woman smile at 
him.

"But don't feel too bad." She walked on over to the Demon as she 
reached out, and kissed him on the lips for about two solid seconds. "I 
wanted to get that reaction on your face if you lost." She smiled. 

The Demon snarled at Icy as she walked back to Geraldine's side. He 
glared for a brief second, but would've gone longer if Alexander hadn't 
calmed him down with the following sage advice. "Cheer up man, you know 
the price of victory." 

"You got that right." The Demon smiled as looked at Geraldine. "Guess 
who's cooking dinner tonight." He turned around. 

"Well let's see, it's... HEY!!" Geraldine screamed as she stomped her 
foot down. 



Flash-forward to the present, The Demon is still riding the blazing, 
Pink Pony. 

"Damn, this day couldn't get any weirder." Garrick sighed a bit as 
several bikers suddenly rode right next to him. 

"Hey baby." The biker next to him purred a bit lecherously as he stared 
at the black motorcycle and it's rider. 

"For your information," Garrick turned around as he smiled. "I'm no 
lady." He later shook his head as he growled a bit. "Damn little 
sister." 

"Hey, ya say you got a sister, right?" Another biker that's slightly 
larger and redheaded than the first biker, who's skinny and has a 
blonde Mohawk coming out of his head. "Is she hot?" 

"Even if she wasn't married, she wouldn't go out with a pig like you, 
even if you were the last lone biker on the planet." Garrick smiled. 

"Hey!" The first biker screamed as he bent over in the speed up 
position. "Nobody does that to the Howling Wheels gang!" 

"Let's get 'im,!"  The larger biker man agreed as he shot out his foot 
onto the gas pedal of the motorbike. With a vroom and hiss, the bikes 
sped off into the fray, trying to catch up with Garrick and his little 
black bike. 

"So," Garrick smiled as he saw the two bikers try to catch up with him. 
"They still think I'm a girl cause I'm having a girly name for a bike?" 
He took one of his hands off the handlebars and into his pocket, and in 
no time, got out Lady Bonnie. He shot one of the oncoming wheels of the 
portly biker as it skidded off the road. 

The other biker got out a chain and whirled it around his head like a 
lasso of some sort. 

Garrick placed Bonnie back in the pocket as he was switching hands to 
let Clyde have some fun. 

Just when Garrick was about to reached for Clyde, the biker shot out 
the chain, and wrapped around the hand of the Demon. Garrick didn't 
have the look of shock on his face, cause he knew the biker made a 
horrible mistake. He twisted his hand, grabbed the chain, and in about 
three seconds flat, violently leaned into the turn as he took the 
biker, literally, for a spin. 

The biker screamed as he held onto the chain with all of his might... 
Well actually, Garrick only formed a U-Turn as he tossed the biker into 
the direction of a huge yellow truck. It honked its horns as it saw the 
biker screaming towards it. The biker leapt out of his bike, shortly 
after he let go of the chain. 

The biker may have survived the landing onto the pavement of the road, 
but the same can't be said for his bike, which was accidentally munched 
up by the truck. 

Garrick placed his hands back on the steering bars and smiled as he 
departed the scene quickly. 

"Damn you freak!" The biker yelled as he got up. 

Garrick continued to ride his bike on the road as he looked all around 
him. Suddenly, he came face to face with more bikers, more unruly than 
the last two. Some of them larger and plumper than gas tanks, others 
are like toned down Alexanders, while the rest of them are as skinny as 
sticks, but they are as about as quick as cheetahs. 

The bikers suddenly charged toward Garrick as he sped up towards the 
upcoming melee. "Wonderful." Garrick spoke in a more sarcastic tone. 

The bikers surrounded him with chains whirling above their heads. The 
Demon knew he had to act fast; otherwise, his career trying to hunt 
Forsythe down would end today... And he doesn't want his end to be 
trucked up. 

Well fortunately for Garrick, he managed to find an opening between the 
truck and one of the bikers, and sped on through as he leaned on that 
turn. As he did so, he whapped a biker on the head with his fist, 
making sure no one followed him. 

The biker's hog tripped upwards, sending its rider flying across the 
road while screaming. 

"Damn that frigging psycho!" One biker screamed while he gave the order 
to pursue the Demon. 

The other bikers gave the Demon chase as he looked behind him. 
"Persistent pigs," Garrick snorted as he took out one of his twin guns 
and shot at them from behind. "Don't they know that I have better 
things to do than make road bacon?" He was shooting wildly while he 
spoke those lines. 

Some of the bikers were shot in the head, blood spurting out of their 
wounds, while others had their tires shot, and they flew right into the 
road while their bikes exploded. About five to six were defeated, while 
three more retreated. 

Was it Bonnie or Clyde, even Garrick can't possibly tell? Luckily, he 
placed it back in his pocket. "Smart move." The Demon smiled as he saw 
the other bikers retreat into the far side of the road. 



"All right Demon," Alexander spoke through the radio on Garrick's bike 
as it continued to speed alongside the road. "What did you do to tick 
those bikers off?"

The Demon smiled. "You really want to know?" 

"Hell yeah!" Alexander boomed as he continued speaking. "Still, those 
grease monkeys were nothing compared to you, man!" 

"Yes, they were nothing." Garrick continued to smile as he continued to 
step on the gas. "They'll be sending in the big boys pretty soon." 

"You didn't answer my question on what you did to piss them off." 
Alexander asked with a concerned tone. 

The Demon chuckled. "All right, I'll answer your question." Then he 
took a slight breath, and exhaled as he begun his story. "Besides 
blowing them off, it all started way back at a local hangout..."



In between the hours of Garrick's current position, and the duel 
between him and Geraldine, there was a small tavern. And not just any 
tavern, it was made for a select group of bikers. 

Several biker gangs, different costumes and purposes. The only 
similarity between them is their goal. That goal is to become the one 
gang that would become rulers of the road, Forsythe or not. On the 
other hand, some bikers prefer to be solo bikers, not caring about the 
on coming gang war. 

The only recognizable gang in the area is The Howling Wheels, who bore 
the mark of a burning tire with head of a coyote on it. Their specialty 
is theft of other people's motorcycles by beating up the original 
driver, and marking it their own. This makes The Howling Wheels a gang 
not to be taken lightly, but there are worser gangs. And their rivals 
are somewhere in the same bar. 

However, there was going to be an incident that none of them will be 
able to recognize. Yet. 

"Who are you?" A young diminutive man in a leather jacket screamed out 
as his greasy brown hair with a silver lining in the middle jumped. 

"They call you The Weasel, right?" Garrick loomed over the young man as 
he cracked his knuckles very softly inside the bathroom stall. 

"What's it to ya?" The Weasel snarled, as he was about to pull a knife 
out. He was about to rush towards the Demon, but the arm of Garrick 
Foster grabbed that appendage, and forced Weasel to let it go. The 
Weasel was dead scared after that attack. 

"Information, and I'm not the type of person you'd want to say, 'I 
don't know what you're talking about' to." The Demon smiled as he 
continued holding The Weasel's grasp. "Cause frankly, the last bit of 
info I got points directly to YOU." 

"So, Fat Louis squealed, eh?" Weasel smiled a bit as he laughed in 
complete mirth. "I can't decide to congratulate you for offing blubber 
butt, or mourning him. Either way, it's you and me man!" 

"Enough talk!" Garrick shook The Weasel as his patience level goes down 
the drain. "You have information on Forsythe's plans, and I want them, 
in a mixture of please, AND NOW!!" 

"Okay, okay, sheesh, don't get your head in a knot." The Weasel cleared 
his throat, and as he did so, he let out a breath that was followed by 
this. "You know about the riot going down in the city?" 

"I don't need any more clues right now." The Demon continued to shake 
him as the Weasel was interrupted. 

"All right all right," The Weasel screamed out as he was shaken still. 
"The weapons needed for the riot are in the old toy factory several 
miles from here." 

"That's all I needed to know." The Demon threw the Weasel down as he 
stormed out of the bathroom while he left the diminutive roadie on the 
bathroom stall. 

The Weasel breathed a sigh of relief as he passed out, with his head 
suddenly plunged into the toilet. 



Back to the present time, the Demon is still riding on the motorcycle 
his allies 'borrowed' from one of their raids. 

"The old toy factory eh?" Alexander smiled as he spoke through the 
transmitter. 

"You got it." The Demon smiled as he saw the city in his sights. 

"According to these reports," Alexander spoke as he looked on his 
computer. "It's probably abandoned for some time due to some defects in 
all the toys. It was scheduled for demolition, but for some strange 
reason, the demolitionists never made it, nor did the Police try to 
stop, whatever's keeping them from tearing that place down." 

"Must be Forsythe's handiwork." The Demon laughed as he continued to 
ride his motorcycle towards the city. "Very well, we'll have a look." 



Hours later...

The factory was one of the largest buildings outside of town. Lord 
knows what kind of toys were inside, nor were there any mention of this 
place other than a trivia question, but this factory and it's contents 
inside are definitely going for demolition. 

"Are you sure this is the place?" The Demon smiled as he watched the 
factory in the distance. 

"I'm positive!" Alexander spoke as he watched his computer inside the 
truck they had from another raid. "The damn weapons have to be in 
there, plus it's the only abandoned toy factory in the district!" 

"Well if it isn't, it's not your fault for leading me in the wrong 
direction." The Demon smiled as he got out his trusted twin guns, and 
got out of the truck. 

"You be careful man." Alexander spoke as he witnessed the computer 
screen boot up. 

"Don't worry." The Demon smiled as he tossed Alexander an object that 
looked like a walkie-talkie. "If I get in trouble, I'll contact you 
through this communicator." 

"And if I get in trouble," Alexander smiled as he punched one of his 
open hands with his other one. "I've handled uglier security." 



Minutes later, inside the factory, there were various machines that 
stopped running. They once served to process toys of all kinds, shapes 
and sizes. Now they were a haven of cobwebs and diverse ants. 

Strewing the rest of the factory is an assortment of boxes. There were 
boxes, which held a good amount of action figures, dolls, and other 
toys for young and old. 

However, in Garrick's case, when he flew through the door while still 
freewheeling on his motorbike, didn't exactly care for any type of toy. 
Geraldine would, when she and Richmond finally have kids, but not the 
older brother. He leaped off his bike, and as he did, it skidded 
against the wall, and exploded. While it did just that, Garrick landed 
on his feet, and twirled his guns in hand. He later got up to stroke 
his head back, while saying the phrase... "Sweet Dreams, Pink Pony." 
He breathed a sigh of relief as he spoke once again. "Still, there be 
too many horse lovers in the world to call you such." 

"Glad you could make it to the party." A voice was heard after Garrick 
was looking around the factory with his guns pointed all around him. 

"Show yourself!" Garrick shouted as he continued to point his guns 
every which way he could. 

The owner of that voice revealed it to be a man dressed in a heavy grey 
jacket, and has really bad blonde hair. He also wore goofy glasses as 
well as a look that might impress the ladies. "How do you do? My name 
is Troy Bikku, the new owner of this factory." 

"Enough of the introductory crap." The Demon pointed his guns at Troy 
as he glared at the shady quarterly ringleader of the getup. "Where are 
the weapons?" 

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about the weapons right now." Troy smiled as he 
looked behind the Demon as he showed his toothy grin. "Cause they will 
entertain you." 

"They?" The Demon smiled as he suddenly heard a loud thud on the floor 
below him. The thud grew louder, and fiercer, as the Demon looked down, 
and shot below him. Garrick chuckled as he sets his eyes back on Troy. 
"You'll have to do better than that." 

Before the Demon could finish, the floorboards cracked open, revealing 
leaping syndicate soldiers, armed with knifes. They were dressed in 
black outfits, aligned with night vision goggles in their eyes. 

One soldier threw a knife at the Demon just when he turned around to 
face the minion, but unfortunately for the knife wielder, Garrick 
caught the knife, and tossed it back to him. The knife went through the 
soldier's torso as he violently jerked to the floor. 

The other soldiers pulled out their guns as they aimed at the Demon. 
Before they could get a decent shot, Garrick picked up the corpse of 
the knife wielder, and used him as a shield to absorb the bullets. 

The others were too shocked to shoot up their ally as they ran out of 
ammo. 

The Demon tossed the corpse to one soldier while he sucker punched 
another right in the face. He suddenly began to shoot at the others 
while they reloaded their guns with his own. If this took place in the 
Wild West, by all means, Garrick would be the sharpest shooter in town. 

Troy was just shocked to see such prowess, but not for long. He pulled 
a nearby lever to release several marionettes. And not just 
marionettes, they were clowns with a very satanic grin, and armed with 
swords. And these are NOT the type of clowns you'd want to invite to 
children's parties. 

One clown marionette swung its sword while Garrick ducked and uppercuts 
the puppet and gets behind it just when the other clown swung his. It 
accidentally stabbed the first marionette as Garrick took the sword 
away. He looked at the strings of the marionettes as he dodged another 
assault. He tossed the sword at the strings holding the marionettes 
together, and cutted them down. 

The marionettes fell one by one as Garrick slices the strings with the 
swords he obtained. "This is where Forsythe keeps his weapons for his 
riot?" The Demon laughed as he looked at the toys and weapons all 
around him. "You're pathetic!" 

"I've just begun!" Troy smiled as he pushed a button on his control 
panel. Activated were several dolls dressed in blue skirts, having 
curled up blonde hair, and very adorable looking eyes. 

"Mama." One doll spoke as it was activated. 

"Please, you can do better than this." The Demon chuckled as he stared 
at the dolls. 

"Mama." Another doll spoke as it was activated while opening and 
closing its eyelids. It suddenly pulled out an object from under its 
skirt. It was no doubt, a machine gun. 

The Demon rolled away as the dolls pulled out and shot their machine 
guns at him. Fortunately for the Demon, the dolls can only shoot 
straight, and he's completely out of their range. 

Troy wasn't too thrilled about seeing that, so he twisted a knob that 
allowed the dolls to turn around while firing their guns. 

Luckily, the Demon managed to find a lone grenade in one of the boxes 
near him. Before the arc was complete, he pulled out the pin using his 
mouth, and threw it at the dolls. Before the bullets could even touch 
Garrick, the dolls exploded when they were contacted with the grenade. 
"Maaa...Maaaaaahhhh..." A doll gurgled as it was blown to bits. 

"Hmph!" The Demon smiled as he witnessed the dolls exploding before his 
eyes. "Never did like playing with dolls." 

Troy was furious beyond comprehension. "Okay, if that's how you want to 
play, FINE!!" He pushed a button, which revealed a very large box. With 
a few tussles later, some metallic hand busted out of the box. The 
Demon was rather surprised to see what came out of that cardboard box. 

It was a large robot, usually seen in many an action flicks. It stands 
as a large, ten-foot monstrosity that had one eye, and two large robot 
arms. It was standing on two legs that were usually used in the field 
of construction. "Hope you like the design." Troy smiled as he 
unleashed the giant robot. "This is the Combat Robot Army Prototype, 
the only fully built robot in existence based on a toy so far."

"In other words, it's crap." The Demon chuckled a bit as he looked at 
the robot. 

"Say what you want about it!" Troy screamed out as he pushed the 
button. The robot hummed to life as it stretched out its hands. "Once 
the testing phase is successful, Forsythe will build a whole army of 
robots just like this one! And you're the perfect guinea pig!" 

"That's nice, but I'm not in the mood to squeal just yet!" The Demon 
pulled out his twin guns, and fired them at the robot. For some strange 
reason, the bullets just bounced off the robot. 

"Did I mention the robot is bullet proof?" Troy laughed as he looked at 
the robot unharmed by the bullets. "Face it, you're toast, Demon!!" 
Troy smirked as he pressed a button, which allowed the hands of the 
robot to fire several rounds of machine gun. 

The Demon hid behind one of the steel machines as the robot fired the 
machine guns out of its hands. He got out his transmitter, which he 
talked into, "All right Alexander, I got an idea..." 

After a while, with so many shells of bullets on the ground, Alexander 
responded with the phrase, "You got it, Demon!" 

"Do you give up?" Troy smiled as he got Garrick cornered with the 
robot. 

The Demon got out, and placed his hands over his head. "All right, I 
give up." Suddenly, a truck busted itself through the main door, and it 
slammed right into the robot's side. "Playing cat and mouse with you!" 
The Demon smiled as he ran toward some stairs. 

"Damn you Demon!!" Troy screamed out as he sent more minions to impede 
Garrick's progress.

Elsewhere, Alexander has problems of his own when confronting the giant 
robot. The mechanism placed its hands on the truck, and tried to lift 
it. "Man, I've seen better toasters." Alexander spoke as he faced the 
robot. 

Back on the railings, Garrick was punching and kicking every minion he 
came across while dodging various punches, slashes and kicks from his 
enemies. Most of them were knocked off the railings, and some were 
seriously hurt from landing on the heavy machinery. 

Alexander pulled out his set of guns and from the left window of the 
truck; he shot at the robots sensory function on its head. The robot 
was forced to put the truck down while a few seconds later; it clutched 
its head in pain. Even though the truck took some minor damage from the 
impact, Alexander had no injury on him. 

"What?" Troy screamed out as he saw the sensory functions get into 
static mode. "That does it, no more Mr. Nice," 

Before he could finish, Garrick kicked the door open, and rushed 
towards Troy. 

"GAAH!" Troy was freaked out when he saw the Demon lift him up by the 
trench coat. 

"Listen, Troy..." The Demon growled as he started down the diminutive 
mans throat like a hawk to a mouse. "I finished playing your game, now 
we're gonna play mine." 

"What is it?" Troy shook as he was strangled, and just when he was 
about to push a button, the Demon shifted him over away from the 
control area. 

"It's called," Garrick smiled as he grinned in a most intimidating 
manner. "Give the Demon Some Information About Forsythe, Or Suffer!" 

"All right, all right, since you've been such a good boy entertaining 
me with that battle," Troy smiled as he suddenly spilled the beans on 
what he was really up to. 

After a while, the Demon responded with the most disturbingly tragic 
"No..." ever produced, so far. He then suddenly rushed on over to pick 
up Troy as he shook him. "Why didn't you tell me before that it was 
another setup?" 

Troy chuckled. "I want to piss you off before I take you to Hell with 
me!" He laughed as his trench coat was opened. It revealed something 
truly disturbing. "Ever hear of, 'This message will self destruct in, X 
seconds?' I'm sure you have." He wore a time bomb on his chest as it 
counted down the seconds. "If I can't succeed in Forsythe's business, 
then neither will you trying to make him sleep with the maggots!" 

"FUCK!!" The Demon screamed as he threw Troy at the wall. He leaped 
through the window as the bomb ticked down. He landed on the ground as 
he ran back towards the truck. 

"Yo Demon!" Alexander smiled as he saw Garrick enter his truck. "Did 
you get the info we needed?" 

"I'll tell you later, just get out of here!" The Demon yelled as he 
closed the back doors of the truck. 

Alexander nodded and shifted the gears in reverse and stepped on the 
gas. As the truck went outside the factory, the bomb exploded, sending 
Troy and anything within the blast radius into the fiery depths of Hell 
itself.  

Luckily, the truck wasn't in such peril as it went outside of the 
factory walls, and went back on the road. Alexander shifted the gears 
to forward, and once again, stepped on the gas as they left the area 
quickly before any firemen showed up. 

"Another fucking set up?" Alexander spoke as he drove his truck back to 
the hideout, which is in a few miles away from where they were. 

"You got it." Garrick smirked as he crossed his legs in the back. "Ol' 
Forsythe's been toying with us these past few weeks, and it's time to 
show Remy Four Eyes what it means to mess with us." 

"But we don't know where the little fucker is!" Alexander spoke as he 
continued driving. 

"That's okay." The Demon smiled as he twirled one of his guns in his 
hand. "When all fails, we'll do something to bring Forsythe to us. I 
don't know how, but we'll think of something. You'll see." 



Author's Notes: 

Damn. Between all sorts of meetings and school, not to mention some 
video games I wanted to play, and a recent injury I am trying to cope 
with, it's pretty hard to make a long chapter in a time like this. 

Well fear not everyone, after a few discussions with Mads and 
Apprentice about ideas and information; I managed to pull through with 
creating this part. Many thanks to them.

Also, I would like to thank Bard for letting me use his part. Whether I 
got permission to use it or not, I can't let a good part go to waste. 
And it's got a few adjustments, courtesy of Mads. 

To my prereaders, I would like to thank Jex and Mads for doing so, and 
let's not forget Lawrence Chu for giving me an extension. Thank you 
everyone who did so. 

Oh, and about that giant robot, well it was modeled after a toy, 
obviously. Nothing else about it. 



"In other news," The newscaster spoke as she revealed a visual on what 
appears to be chaos in the downtown square area. "A major riot is going 
on, as officials try to fight back against a major outbreak of riots." 

There were guns firing all over as several members of the SWAT team 
blocked it with their shields. They fired back at the rioters while the 
civilians reloaded. "Safety off, men!" The commanding officer ordered 
his men while they did so. "Ready, FIRE!!" The commander barked as his 
soldiers lifted their shields, and started firing their guns. 

Eventually, some of the rioting citizens brought forth flamethrowers, 
and other stolen bazookas. Where they got them was several trucks 
handing them out to the civilians who needed some action. 

Some officers were burning while others were blown to bits by the 
rockets. 

"Retreat!" The SWAT officer yelled as he called out to his remaining 
army. "All personnel pull back!" 

"Damn man!" Alexander slammed his fist on the table as he watched the 
television set. "Forsythe was trying to get us away from that! We gotta 
do something!" 

"No can do." The Demon smiled as he witnessed something else on the 
television screen. "Cause frankly, that's not my style." 

The news reporter smiled as she saw the same thing behind her. 
"Fortunately, the army is here just in the neck of time to help the 
officials fight off the rioters." 

"Plus, why blow our cover in a time like this?" The Demon smiled as he 
witnessed something else entering the fray. 

"Come on!" It was Willis, who was indeed a part of the action as he 
shot like a complete maniac at various rioters as they fell to the 
ground. "I got free tickets to Hell for all you bad guys in the city 
today!" He flipped out of the way and shot again, all in the while 
dodging bullets like he didn't have a second chance on the force, and 
wanted to make his superiors proud. 

"Shit." Alexander was amazed to see Willis fight like that against the 
rioters as he sat down on the chair. "I never knew Willis fought like 
that before." 

"That's the beauty of not getting involved with everything that doesn't 
concern you." The Demon smiled as he continued to watch the television. 
"Besides, we had enough excitement for one day, don't you agree?" 

"Amen, Demon!" Alexander agreed as they high fived while still 
continuing to watch the television.