The wall spanning screen on the far wall of the board room of Blackforest Tactical, the private military company owned by Michael “The Ranger” Hunter operating out of New York City, hummed quietly as it presented a map of the greater New York City metropolitan area and was covered in colored dots. Each dot was colored red, blue, or green and had a series of alphanumeric marking next to each indicating a series of information associated with each. Red indicated murder, blue an abduction, and green a burglary.

Leaning against the head of the table in the room the Ranger studied the screen. It had taken weeks to search through connect all the listed events once he had noticed the pattern. He looked at the most recent point, a murder. It had been the event that led to locating the pattern. A man had been killed violently, in contrast to the others which had all been without any struggle. What the Ranger had gathered showed the man was a mutant with psychic powers. His heart had been crushed by a bare hand that bypassed his skin and ribcage entirely. His knuckles were busted from punching and 9mm casing were scattered across the scene. A psychic mutant had fought back physically. The Ranger surmised the attacker had been a psychic of equal power.

Those who had been alerted by the shooting and happened to stop to look, which is to say those who didn’t think it was someone with a hammer and those who didn’t skedaddle, gave a description of the assailants. The first was a tall man, with long black hair, who wore a white suit. The second was described as being in his early twenties, short blond hair, and of average height. The only distinguishing factor was his wearing a short sleeve shirt in December with no indication he was cold.

Using that data the Ranger worked backwards. First he found cases where eyewitnesses used descriptions matching the two men. From there he could see a list instances, most notably were burglaries of major pharmaceutical companies. Following that pattern he became aware of a likely third culprit. She was described as a young girl with golden pigtails and the strength of a freight train.

The three had started two years prior with the burglaries, they happened over the course of the year. Likely the idea was to not arouse as much public awareness by spreading them out so people had time to forget. About seven months into this the abductions started. Mutants at first, but eventually they began taking a few humans as well. Then the murders began. Arguably they were an extension of the burglaries. Criminal trespass and theft of property, only the property was the pituitary gland and adrenal glands of the occupant.

The data was good, and clearly showed a pattern, but it wasn’t enough. He was working off of news articles and other public data. He needed a good lead, and he knew were to get it.

”Time t' steal from New York’s finest.”

He pushed himself off the desk. If the police had noticed the pattern too it was a safe bet that the Federal government was involved in the investigation. Following September 11th fusion centers were established by the USDHS and USDoJ. They were designed to promote the sharing of information between City, State, and Federal law enforcement. Over 70 had been established and one of them happened to be in New York City, inside a NYPD station.

He made his way across the room and killed the lights as he walked out the doors. First he would stop by his office. He had a flash drive that had an executable that could be configured to search for and copy all data on a server related to its parameters. That ready he took his black resistol off the wall, slid on his leather jacket, and stepped out into the wintery streets of New York City.

A stop to the apartment was in order. The Ranger’s attire was too distinct, not many people went around New York looking like a cowboy and driving a souped-up Ford F-650. He changed to casual attire more suiting a Yankee, or at least someone from a larger city, jeans, tennis shoes, hoodie, aviators, gloves, and a baseball cap. The last three were more for function than fashion, his face on cameras and prints left around wouldn’t help him any. Thankfully it hadn’t snowed recently; this gave him an alternative form of transportation, his modified Suzuki Hayabusa known as a Turbobusa.

1 Police Plaza, NYPD headquarters and home of the fusion center in New York. A rather ugly building built back in the ‘70s in lower Manhattan, a tall square building with squares attached to it built out of red brick and windows. The Ranger parked his motorcycle a few blocks away and made his way up to the main entrance, opened the door and stepped inside.

First he had to get past security. He approached the front desk and held out a little laminated card that made it known he was a member of a ritzy neighborhood watch. The ID was completely legitimate; he had relieved the original owner of it months ago for just such an occasion. He had earlier that day made an appointment with one Officer Acevedo, in the department’s community outreach. The officer on duty matched the name to his list and waved him through. A pass through a metal detector and he was on his way to the elevator. Once on the elevator he stashed his shades in his pocket and removed the hat. Only the public areas in a police station are under surveillance, undercover police and informants don’t like their pictures taken. When he arrived at the correct floor he stashed the cap in the trash, left his hoodie on a chair, slid on a jacket he found on chair that said “POLICE” on the back, and picked up a file lying on desk and made his way around the offices to the door to the fusion center.

The fusion center was simply an office with a set of servers and one terminal that was always locked. Luckily police didn’t much consider someone breaking into the police station itself and it was a simple enough lock to pick. All that is needed is a rake and tension tool, the pair could be anything as simple as a thin hair pin and screw driver or a precision made steel tool set. Items like the stems from a pair of sunglasses. Prepared in advance and you can be past the lock in seconds.

Once inside he shut the door quietly and sat down in front of the computer. Next he slid in the flash drive, ran the executable and watched folders open and shut as their files were transferred as fast as the hard drives would allow. He glanced back through the window in the door to see if anyone was coming, he knew he was running against the clock.

There was only so long before Officer Acevedo was aware his appointment was loose in the station. The Ranger suspected he wouldn’t have enough time to make it back out of the building, but he hoped he had enough time to clear this floor.

The computer made a quiet sound and the Ranger yanked out the flash drive, turned off the monitor and quietly left the fusion center. Just as he reached the elevator chaos broke loose. A buzz of radios and the stomping of feet erupted suddenly as the police in the building reacted to word of someone loose in the building. He rode the elevator down and when he stepped out into the lobby people were going everywhere. Their goal was to lock down the building and sweep each floor for him, if he could get out the front doors and to the street he was clear. So he started walking.

The cameras were pointed at the doors; he noticed that when he walked in, so long as he didn’t turn to face them his face would remain mostly obscured by the back of his head. The likelihood of another officer stopping him was not too high; he was wearing a jacket that identified him as one of them. Not to mention when dealing with a command structure like a police force people are unlikely to question orders from someone who appears in charge. The less experienced the officer, the more likely they would believe someone giving orders was in charge without further evidence.

”You two,” The Ranger began in a commanding tone pointing at a pair of young officers , ”watch the elevators, we don’t need him slipping into the lobby.” He turned to another officer, ”You stay at the desk, watch the cameras.” He then turned, pointed to four other officers. ”You, you, you, and you head to the West entrance; he might jump down to it through a window.” All of it coming out without a trace of his Texas accent.

He cleared the entrance and headed for the street. Officers were already setting up barricades to restrict traffic. He grabbed a cone and carried it out into the road. Set it down in the middle of a lane and disappeared into city.

The ride back to the apartment was rather uncomfortable. There may not have been snow on the ground, but that felt more like it was due to the lack of precipitation than anything. Not to mention, no matter how long he had lived there, New York just got too damn cold. Granted, anywhere North of, and including, Dallas was just too cold. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with yankees, they go crazy from the cold.

While riding he had a feeling that he was being watched. He never noticed anyone, but couldn’t shake the feeling. It wasn’t impossible for a tail to go unnoticed by him, but it was unlikely, but to be safe he took a meandering route around town on his way back. He may have also made a few maneuvers that while they could expose a tail also gave him a nice view of birds though windows.

He parked the bike and made his way upstairs. Once in he threw the police jacket over the couch, grabbed his laptop, and sat down to dig into what he recovered. He’d managed to recover gigs upon gigs of data. It would take days to read through it all, he would have to narrow down the information. He needed more information on the perpetrators. He’d start with eye witness accounts, it was the most likely to give a lead in hours.

The next morning the Ranger woke up. The laptop lay on the floor; he’d fallen asleep on the couch. He sat up rubbing his eyes and then glanced at the mess of papers on the table in front of him. He’d made notes from the accounts and organized them, roughly, into piles. One pile for each of the perpetrators.

The first perp was of average high, short blond hair, always dressed for summer, very military looking, and could walk through walls. Most accounts had described a blur, likely an effect of his power, moving through walls. A few had seen the man either before or after the effect. As confirmation he’d even found video footage of the blurred man, sadly he hadn’t found any photos or video of the man when he wasn’t blurred. This power to walk through objects marked him the best candidate for the murderer on the scene that would be their undoing. As ‘Blur’ was as good as any other name, he wrote it on a sticky note and put it on the pile.

The second was one of the most mentioned. A little girl with blond hair in pigtails. To all appearances she looked just like a little girl, described at times of skipping up to places even. What’s scary is she could swat reinforced metal security doors off hinges with a brush of her hand and bullets fell flat before hitting her. He wrote ‘Suzie Q’ on a sticky note, and then couldn’t get CCR out of his head.

The third perp was a tall man, conservatively put at six foot a lot. He had long black hair, a golden limdal ring on his eyes, always wore a very expensive looking white suit, and no eye witness accounts that lasted longer than him approaching. Literally no one who was near him remembers more than an approach or a retreat. He’d had to find video of the man to get a physical description. He wrote ‘String Bean’ on a sticky and stuck it on that pile.

Aside from physical descriptions and a better understanding of their powers, the Ranger only had one lead. There was an offhand mention about how Blur had maybe been seen before leaving the house of a man called “Freighter.” The Ranger knew him. Freighter, or Lawrence Garison, was a fence in northern New York City. He was by no means the top of the food chain, he was known for quickly moving property, but a run in with the police a few years back had slowed his rise to glory. He also fabricated identification, handled import/exports, and a laundry. Not money laundering, a real Laundromat. For clothing. It seemed the police had attempted to interview him, but he said nothing and they couldn’t get a warrant based on what they had.

Good thing the Ranger doesn’t need a warrant.

A change back to his square-toe cowboy boots and leather jacket was warranted. The Ranger had made an impression on the non-violent criminal underworld of New York City, his reputation wasn’t that well known but those who did knew not to mess around when a cowboy comes knocking. He grabbed his Resistol as he made his way out the door.

There was no need for a motorcycle now. Speed was always useful, but intimidation and a mobile tactical staging area are unparalleled. The Ranger climbed into and fired up ‘the Fordasaurus.’ A Ford F-650 with heavy modifications. The running boards were made from diesel tanks, a heavy black, diamond plate grill guard was affixed to the front, the rear bumper was replaced with a black diamond plate bumper, and the bed was covered with a camper. The exterior was painted black and it had a light bar up top. All lights, external and internal, were replaced with LED. A radio suite which included AM, FM, police scanner, and airband was installed. The third row of seats was replaced by diamond plate cases which held arms, ammunition, and other equipment. The rest of the interior was equipped for comfort. The bed was fixed with additional cases similarly equipped as the ones on the interior.

The vehicle was one he happened upon after his former car, a Dodge Charger painted up like the General Lee, was driven into a lingerie store by someone he had the misfortune of switching bodies with for a time. The F-650 was, liberated, from its former owner by the Ranger and subsequently equipped for his needs in such a vehicle.

New York traffic was always a pain. He’d once heard it said nobody drove because there was too much traffic. It had sounded absurd at the time, but when all you see is a sea of yellow cabbies it makes more sense. When in high traffic situations there are two schools of thought on how to successfully navigate through it. The first is to drive a small vehicle and slip into gaps to move around. The second, and clearly more effective, is to drive a larger or more intimidating vehicle and bully your way. Drivers will hold fast to the idea of right of way as prescribed by law up to the time a vehicle three times theirs is moving into their lane expecting them to yield. When driving, might makes right.

A half hour later the Fordasaurus pulled into a small parking lot between a few upscale apartment complexes. He reached into the console, drew out his Sig 226, and slid it into the front of his pants to conceal it. Then he climbed down out of the vehicle and over to Freighter’s apartment complex. He knew which room was his on the third floor. The front would have security people who would make it difficult, and the door would likely have an electronic lock. Both measures would make just waltzing in difficult. So he’d go in through the balcony.

He made his way to the nearest wall around the building and climbed up. It was only a little taller than himself so it wasn’t difficult. From there he jumped up and forward, grabbing onto the bar at the bottom of the little fence around the second floor balcony. He pulled himself up and onto the balcony. Then he moved to the edge of the balcony and jumped up to the next floor and over one room. Again he pulled himself up. One more jump over, but not up this time and he was on the balcony of Freighter’s apartment.

A quick check, the door wasn’t locked. Clearly Freighter didn’t expect company through a door on the third floor that lacked a ladder or stairs to reach. He drew his Sig in his, slid a suppressor out of his jacket pocket and screwed it on, he then held the Sig at a high ready in his right hand, and opened the door with his left.

The sound of a television could be heard through the doorway as the Ranger slid inside and quietly shut the door behind him. He glanced around, the television was in the living room, where he entered, but Freighter wasn’t. He brought his left hand up to the gun and slid into a modified isosceles stance as he turned to scan the entirety of the space. It was a little bigger than Lenna and his. The smell of something being cooked drew his attention toward where he though the kitchen was. It was the only hallway with light at the end.

The Ranger quietly crept closer to the kitchen, crossed the doorway leading into it from where he was keeping himself back against the far wall. He moved slowly letting slices of the room beyond enter his vision at a time. Assuming his target was in the room, each slice he viewed increased the probability the target was in the following slice and limited where he could be attacked from, were he already made. A moment later his sights were lined up on Freighters back as he was at the stove, stirring something.

Freighter was of average height, black hair that was turning grey, and tan skin. His unofficial line of business availed him to the money to dress nice, but it must be his day off. He wore khaki pants and a plain white, button up shirt instead of a suit. He was cooking spaghetti in a pot and was stirring it when Ranger gently pressed the end of the suppressor against Freighter’s head and addressed him, ”Howdy, Lawrence.”

Lawrence went stiff as a board. He released the wooden spoon he was stirring with and it spun around, carried by the swirling water and noodles in the pot. The Ranger moved the gun back and dug the butt of it into his right side while reaching out and taking hold of the other man’s collar with his left hand. His body turned so that the gun, supported by his side, was aimed at Freighter but was on the far side of his body from him. ”We need t’ have a chat.” He tugged on the collar to direct the man.

“Alright, alright. W- Whatever you want.” Freighter replied, his voice was calmer than it had a right to be given the situation, but there was an unmistakeable shake to it.

”Dining room. Time fer a come t’ Jesus meetin’.” The Ranger directed him to the dining room. Then he guided him to a chair and forced him to sit before walking around so the man could see him.

“If you are here for someone else I can pay you more. “ A shot in the dark at why the Ranger was there. In response the Ranger drew out his phone and showed him a picture of String-bean.

”Who’s this.”

“Nobody,” He lied “I don’t know him. What does he have to do with me?”

”I think ya do know ‘im.” He slid the phone back into a pocket and pulled some zip ties out of another. ”One more chance. Who’s in the picture?”

“Look. He’s got nothing to do with me. I’ve never worked with him before. Honest.”

The Ranger sighed and kicked the man in the chest. The chair flipped over and Freighter sprawled across the floor behind it. The Ranger lay the gun on the table and with trained precision was atop the man tying his wrists back behind him and then ankles together. That done he set the man in another chair and tied him to it and then lay it on its back with the man looking up at the ceiling. ”Time t’ see the hard way.”

In the kitchen the Ranger found a large bottle of water. What is it with Yanks and bottled water? and a rag. He soaked the rag in the sink and went back to dining room. ”I heard Khalid Sheikh Mohammed lasted 20 seconds. Last chance.” He set the gallon of water on the table and held up the wet rag.

“I can’t!” Lawrence all but yelled, his eyes suddenly wide, “He’ll know!”

”Wrong answer.” The Ranger took hold of the water, removed the cap, planted the rag on the man’s face and began.

It wasn’t much longer before he broke.

“I don’t know his name, but I know where you can get it.” Lawrence gasped as the Ranger sat his chair back up. “The New York State Psychiatric Institute, there is an entire ward of his victims. It’s on the top floor.”

”That’s good. Now how ‘bout the business you did with him.” The Ranger replied taking hold of the mostly empty gallon jug of water and prompting Lawrence to almost flip his chair back over in fright.

“I worked with him at a warehouse in Lower Manhattan! He didn’t speak much, but he spoke about ‘the Rebuilder’ whatever that.”

”What did ya move for ‘im?”

“I brought in medical supplies and large amounts of various things. Do you have any idea how hard things like Iodine-131 are to find‽” At that the Ranger’s eyebrows went up. ¹³¹I was used in treating Thyroid cancer, but was also a cause of mutation. Not to mention a short half-life meaning it was some very hot stuff.

Lawrence went on to explain where the warehouse was, then prattled on about having to sneak all this in without local or Federal authorities catching on. The Ranger weighed his choices on how to proceed. First he could investigate this psychiatric ward. Second, he could investigate this warehouse. The second was most likely to lead him to his target, but the first could provide information on what he was most worried about. The psychic.

”Thanks for the help, Lawrence. “ He slapped him on the side of his arm. ”You’ve been a big help.” He flicked out his pocket knife and cut one of the other man’s arms free. Lawrence could get himself all the way free later. And he didn’t have to worry about the break in being reported, Lawrence didn’t need that much scrutiny from police in his house… Bad for business.

The suppressor pocketed in his jacket and the Sig stashed in his pants and the Ranger was out the front door. When he was back to the Fordasaurus he returned his hat to his head and made his way to the New York State Psychiatric Institute.

It was a short drive, he was already on that side of town. Parking was a chore though. There was a garage but it didn’t have a high enough clearance for his tank of a truck. Eventually he found a spot along the road and parallel parked his land bound battle ship. Technically he was in a parking spot, though traffic might beg to differ as it stuck out farther than all the little compact cars in front of and behind it. Serves them right for having such small spots up here.

Looking every bit the part of a stereotypical Texan, the Ranger walked through the doors of the institute. There wasn’t a metal detector, but there were cameras and no less than two security personnel could be seen. He made his way to the elevator, walking alongside someone in a coat that looked to belong there. His body language said he knew what he was doing so the man didn’t question him and his appearance from a distance to be with one of the doctors kept a receptionist from inquiring to his presence.

Once inside he made he rode the elevator to the top floor and stepped out into white walls and speckled, tile floor. It was as if they were trying to cure the mentally ill through homely aesthetics. He checked a map on a wall near the elevator. It detailed what was where on the floor. He didn’t know what it was called, but “victims of psychic assault” seemed his best bet.

He made his way down the hall to where the map had shown him… and he found a door locked and requiring an id be swiped. A minor setback. He wandered back down the hall and eventually came across an older gentleman in a lab coat. An ID badge hung at waist level. The Ranger approached him.

”Howdy, friend. Where can I find the bathroom?” That received a strange look from the man and he pointed down the hall. The Ranger looked, then slapped him on the side of his upper arm thanking the man and at the same time pocketed his ID. The man was momentarily stunned by the Ranger’s behavior but eventually walked off as the Ranger made his way to the bathroom.

Once he was sure the older man was gone he made his way back to the door and with the id he stole, let himself in. He entered a common area between the patient’s rooms. People wandered about in white outfits marking them as the aforementioned patients. He couldn’t see a doctor around so it was likely these patients were likely to become violent. Time to start.

He spent around a half hour talking to different patients, showing them pictures of the man trying to get any kind of information. There was the reference to the Rebuilder here and there, but nothing concrete to go on. A few mentioned someone being behind the throne, a couple spoke of a German, and one kept going on about the gold eyed parasite.

Finally he found a young woman that was both coherent and seemed to know something. “The tall man, he gets in your head. You see things, live things. He pretends to listen, but he really is the master.” She stated as she fiddled with her hair. “If you see too much he gives you a new life for a while. One like your life but worse, a dream life more real than your life.”

”Why did he do this t’ you?” The Ranger asked.

”I saw him, he was there the day my neighbor disappeared. I saw him approach and then nothing until the other life. It was horrible.” She wrapped her arms around her legs in the chair. Her tone was disconnected from her body language. She moved as if she was scarred at times and sometimes giddy, but her voice remained flat, disinterested.

There was a quick, solid sound as the door unlocked. The Ranger left the woman as she babbled on eerily. He heard the door shut as he slid to the edge of the door of the woman’s room and glanced out. There was a tall man with a black ponytail wearing a lab coat. He could only see his back as the man checked off a clipboard as he meandered about.

Slipping out of the room the Ranger made his way over to the man. If this man worked with the patients there then perhaps he could provide more information. Reaching out he gripped the man’s shoulder. ”Don’t turn. I only have questions then I’ll be gone.” The Ranger growled in an attempt to scare the man. In response the other man reached up and grabbed the Ranger’s wrist.

There was an odd sensation like something cold brushing across his skin and slowing up his arm. The Ranger recoiled at the sensation and the other man wheeled around to look at the Ranger through his glasses. The eyes were blue, almost grey, and had a golden ring around the iris. String Bean!

The Ranger drew his Sig and dug it into his side as he slid his right leg back. He brought his left arm up palm out while demanding with a voice of absolute authority, ”On the floor. Now!” At the distance he was at he didn’t want the man to be able to reach for his sidearm. At the same time String Bean took hold of a folding chair and swung it at him, WWE style. The Ranger brought back his left arm to block the chair. It bounced off and crashed to the floor. It had been more of a distraction than a real attack; String Bean used the chance to bail.

String Bean slammed open the door and fled the ward, the Ranger pursued him reconcealing his pistol as he went. As he reached the door he looked out into the hall. String Bean was gone. He made his way down the hall. He found people in lab coats moving around, but no String Bean. A couple of the doctors headed his way looking at him funny. They were obviously heading to investigate the sound of chair slamming arm. Ranger brushed them aside, drawing a “Hey!” and “Hold up!” He ignored them.

The next few minutes were far from productive; String Bean didn’t jump out and yell boo and doctors were now staring at him as he went about. It was time to leave. The Ranger made his way down stairs and to the door where he’d entered. As he stepped outside there was a hand on his shoulder. The Ranger turned to see a security guard, “We need to ask you some questions, sir. You can come with me now or deal with the police when they get here.”

Being as they had already called the police, there was no reason to be diplomatic. During his time inside the sun had traveled across the sky and twilight had set in. The relative darkness gave him more options. The police had already been called so being diplomatic would accomplish nothing. The Ranger brought up his arm in capitulation and then slammed the man’s head into a car with his left arm.

The man sagged, made noises that sounded semi-conscious and the Ranger ran. Police response time was pitiful, they weren’t the immediate issue. He would need to flee from where those who could see him now and perhaps so his vehicle wasn’t made. His appearance could be passed off as some loon from the south in town. Everyone from tourists to the Naked Cowboy wore a ten-gallon in this city. They were rare, but not unheard of. He’d just have to retire it for the short term.

Thankfully the Ranger could run faster than traffic in New York seemed to move. He took off at a dead sprint, traveling at nearly 80 miles per hour.

That night the Ranger had strange dreams. He seemed to experience his entire career as a soldier over again, but an emphasis on the high stress situations. Times when he was surrounded by the enemy in a firefight, when he was escaping a non-permissive environment where the locals were trying to arrest him, and others far worse. He dreamt when he was younger and with his mother when a mugger jumped them in Houston. He even dreamt of his time spent as Lori.

The dreams were unnerving in how real they felt; almost they had literally just happened, too fresh. They haunted him all of the next day. That day not much was accomplished, he didn’t have the equipment on hand for a thorough investigation of the warehouse. It necessarily would have to wait.

Again he had the dreams the next night. Different events but the same theme played out. Times in his life where he felt rattled, uneasy, lost, or powerless were dug up and played in the theater of his mind.

When a few days had passed he had was needed; equipment to track the Iodine from the warehouse. An old buddy of his from his days in the service now worked for CBIST, chemical and biological intelligence support team, and had it shipped up to him. It had to be back within two days, this was all off the record.

The Ranger loaded it all into the Fordasaurus, some of it was wired into the vehicle. Radioiodine, ¹³¹I, has a half-life of just over eight days. Radioiodine has beta and gamma emissions and is used not just for medical purposes, but also as a radioactive tracer.

Gearing up the Ranger wore a different pair of cowboy boots; his hasty getaway had torn up the treadles leather sole of his Ariat boots and absolutely destroyed the wooden heel. He also left his resistol hung up. He’d need to leave it until things cooled down. Otherwise he still wore a leather jacket and had on a pair of gloves that covered all but his trigger finger.

Driving around the warehouse Freighter had directed him to; the Ranger noticed the vehicles parked around. They were around back in an attempt to hide them from view. Likely it was just thugs making sure the place wasn't hit by a rival or some other thugs looking for a quick buck so they could by M.

He parked the Fordasaurus at a neighboring warehouse and approached the warehouse. It was around three stories tall and made of metal. A long line of windows stretched across the top level , that was his way in. He could most likely siege the place and eliminate the men inside but he needed time to search around inside and he might need more than the 37 minute police response time in the area would avail him. All he carried with him was his side arm and other assorted light gear.

A ladder on the side of the building took him up to the roof. From there he moved across the roof to where the windows were below him with another, lower roof below. Lowering himself down from the roof he took hold of the ripples in the tin wall and with his power was able to clamp on hard enough that he could easily climb down without sliding on the smooth metal. When he was standing on the lower roof he looked at the windows, they were all locked but it was an older design like most in this part of the city. He put one hand under the window and lifted as he struck the lock, it popped out of place and the window opened. He slipped inside, shut and relocked the window, and escaped into the shadows of the warehouse. His entrance had made noise, it wouldn't be long before someone came to investigate.

A short time later a large man with a WASR-10 slung across his chest made his way up to the windows. He looked at all the windows and then called down that it was nothing. A quick look around and he was on his way back. The man's back turned the Ranger snuck up behind him and with practiced precision slid his arm around the man's neck and locked him into a choke-hold. Blood flow cut off to the brain the man was out in seconds, his throat cut off the attempt to warn his friends was stopped. The man's body fell limp and the Ranger drug the body off into a corner. Then he found a pallet with a stack of something on it held together with plastic strips. He cut off some of the plastic and used it to bind the man's arms and legs, then covered his mouth with a stretch of plastic wrapped over the mouth and tied behind his head. Not ideal, but it should do until he was done. Finally he removed the firing pin from the WASR, the only sure way to keep it from being used against him later.

The response to his entrance dealt with the Ranger surveyed the area. He was on a second level that overlooked the ground level with walkways and a few areas for storage. Across the building there was a ramp for a forklift and on his side was stairs. Looking down he could see four men sitting in the middle of the warehouse a small television playing on a table. Slow shift.

He'd need to make his way down to the ground level and draw the men away from each other to pick them off.

Down the stairs the Ranger went. His first goal was to kill the lights in the warehouse. From what he could see, any natural light would have to be filtered down to the ground level through the upper level he was just at. In essence killing the lights would radically darken the ground level despite the sun light beaming in through the windows.

Quietly moving along the walls the Ranger searched for and eventually located the fuse box for the warehouse. The case was locked. It would have been easy enough to pick, but were he to just flip the circuits off someone could easily flip them on. Instead he unclasped the sling holding his tomahawk and with one good swing severed the wires. There was a flash of electricity, the grip of the tomahawk protecting him, and then all the lights died at once.

Immediately cries of irritation and surprise rose up from the men in the middle of the industrial labyrinth. In the darkness he could easily see a glowing green light flare up somewhere past loaded pallets and shelves, later followed by flashlights coming on. Then, the Ranger's perception changed. There was a ripple in his vision and suddenly the darkness with a distant island of light was gone. The structure of his retinas had changed to allow him to see infrared light. Night vision. Certainly a major advantage in a situation such as this, except when it happened his eyes would shine like an animal's. Which itself had some advantages, namely, instilling fear.

His eyes adjusted, the Ranger went on the move. The severing of the cables made noise alerting the guards that it was likely someone had done it not just a random power outage. He made his way into the narrow passages.

He could hear the other men moving, they weren't trained for this kind of situation. Their footfalls were too loud and their lights telegraphed their movements.

Before long the Ranger had moved up behind one of the men. Quickly choked him out, tied him up, and was off. Soon he found another. The man was headed toward him. The Ranger hid behind a pallet and watched as the pool of light from the flashlight grew brighter. When it was evident the man was right around the corner he rounded it and struck the man in the throat with his palm so he couldn't call for help and then when he leaned forward to instinctively guard his neck the Ranger put his hands behind the man's head and drove it into his raising knee. The man went down. Two down, two to go.

The sound of the man dropping attracted a yell from another of the guards. The Ranger pulled back to a more secluded area between two pallets where he could watch for the man's arrival. When the man ran past him, the Ranger choked him out as well. One left.

And then there was a crash behind him. The Ranger wheeled round and saw the source of that eerie green light. The final guard had a pair of green blades comprised of some type of energy emanating from his forearms. He had sliced through a steel shelf and it's contents with ease to confront the Ranger, who could now be easily sen in the green light bathing the area.

A green energy blade slashed at the Ranger, he dove to one side just in time. The other man was exceptionally fast. The man swung again using the momentum from the last strike. Again the Ranger dodged it, the blade slid through a stack of ammo cans like a hot knife through butter. There was no indication that the blade melted its way through, it was as if all the atoms touched just decided to go it alone as the blade passed.

The Ranger raised his Sig to shoot his assailant, but had to dive to avoid another strike. Again the man tried to follow up, but this time the Ranger stopped the strike by throwing his tomahawk into the man. He recoiled as the blade sunk into his side.

Seizing the opportunity, the Ranger took hold of a shelf with his now free hand and as his power augmented his strength, bitch slapped the man with steel shelf that dumped boxes as it was wheeled around. The blades cut through the shelf, but it did no good. The shelf still struck him and drove him into another shelf which toppled backward behind him.

Weighing his options as the man freed himself from the shelf sandwich, the Ranger raised his gun, and fired.

If anyone heard the gunshot, they might call the police. Depends how neighborly they're feeling. It was best to air on the side of caution. He policed his brass and set to work.

Radio-iodine goes through beta decay, the isotope fires off positrons, an antimatter particle, which when they interact with an electron cause an annihilation event which results in two gamma rays traveling in opposite directions. This allows for it to be used as a tracer. All that was needed was a device that used X-Ray diffraction. Essentially when the gamma rays interact with non-radioactive material they produce fluorescent x-rays which can be used to identify the radioactive material present.

Larger than a Geiger counter, but smaller than a laptop, the device was cumbersome to use by hand, but not impossible nor did it negatively impact function. The ranger powered his portable XRD instrument and quickly confirmed there was radio-iodine here. The geniuses had hardly shielded the stuff. Well at least tracing it would be easy enough.

The Ranger retrieved his tomahawk and left the warehouse, through a back door. He fired up the Fordasaurus, turned on the much larger, much more sensitive, XRD instrument he wired into the vehicle and pulled out onto the road. The radiation as his guide.

Through the city the Ranger drove, his eyes checking the readout to make sure he was traveling the correct direction. As he drove he realized he was heading to a much more run down and destitute part of the city. The culprits were likely hiding their activities behind the already high crime rates of poor areas of the city.

After a couple hours of driving across the city the instrument was finally showing truly promising information. Likely he was within a few blocks of wherever they were hoarding the radio-iodine. It was then that he finally noticed his tail.

A small grey car that looked innocent enough by itself. It would never stand out, except the Ranger had seen it one too many times. It was why the past few days he'd felt like he was being watched.

The Ranger immediately wheeled the car around, a car horn blared as he nearly ran over some Prius, and stomped on the gas pedal. The pursuing car tried to get out of the way, but the driver reacted too slow and the Fordasaurus plowed into the side of the other vehicle. The momentum of the massive SUV took the other car for a ride, eventually stopping several yards later. The Ranger jumped out of the truck and approached the other car, glancing at the damage to his four wheeled titan. The grill guard had done its job, the damage to anything vital to the car was miniscule at best. The other car, not so much.

Ripping the passenger side door off , and throwing it behind him, the Ranger looked inside. There was no one. "Shi-" The Ranger wheeled around in time for a fist to drive into his gut.

A few staggered steps away and the Ranger was ready to go. Bringing his fists to bear he got a good look at his assailant. It was Blur. "You know, I really liked that car." Blur commented before throwing a punch. The Ranger brought an arm up to block but it just went through it and struck the side of his head. "Sorry about that, here try again." Again Blur threw a punch, but this time the Ranger ducked away and threw his own punch. His hand passed right through Blur causing no damage. "Oh, that tickles!"

Another dodged strike from Blur and the Ranger gained some distance. He knew Blur could move fast enough to phase through objects, it was how he was able to break into places and steal equipment. It was unlikely a fast moving object would have any better shot, but it was worth a try. He drew his Sig, moved to where a brick wall was behind his target, and fired. It phased passed right through, but it did stop Blur for a moment. "Nice try, but you can't hurt me. Nothing physical can touch me if I don't want it to."

The Ranger used this time to reach a door to the Fordasaurus and pull out a stun gun. "You can't run, you just got here... and who would drive me home. You totaled my ride after all." The Ranger could hear his steps as he ran up behind him. The Ranged whirled about when Blur was right behind him and fired up the stun gun as he drive it toward Blur.

Blur tried to phase through it, but when his torso went through the electrodes the electricity arcing across them didn't seem to care how fast he was moving. "I wasn't plannin' on leavin'."

Blur shrieked as he visibly phased in and out, his control of his muscles clearly obstructed. After a few seconds the Ranger cut it off and immediately punched the man. He wasn't ready for it and the blow knocked him off his feet.

Again electricity arced across the electrodes of the stun gun as the Ranger took a step forward. "Time t' talk."