Things had been good since Lee had left the hospital. Things had been really good, but for a while now, Tarin had balked at letting Lee out of his sight for even the shortest amount of time. If she wanted to stay in, that was fine, he left to get her whatever she needed and brought it back happily. The problem was…Lee couldn’t stay locked up in their apartment like a prisoner for the rest of her life. It just wouldn’t do. Tarin didn’t want that, and he was sure that Lee didn’t want that.



The problem was. The police couldn’t figure out who had kidnapped her.



Lee knew the man, she’d described him and even given a name. Anton. The guy was out there somewhere, maybe taking more women. What if Lee hadn’t been the first? She definitely wasn’t going to be the last. Tarin respected the MRC, especially Detective Cervantes. But when someone was as good at disappearing as this guy had ended up being…there was only so much the police could do.



Members of a secret organization bent on world improvement who didn’t necessarily feel the need to follow all the rules, all the time, on the other hand…had a little more wiggle room. Tarin had made a call, met with Slate, and gotten the number of someone the young entrepreneur had employed in Romania. It was a good start, and something Lee was going to know nothing about.



Tarin had called the number and gotten a generic voice message, so after hanging up, calling back, and getting the same thing once more he left a message. It was a short message, simply seeking a meeting and dropping Slate’s name. Phone lines were easily traced, and messages left a trail. Tarin didn’t want that. Not at all. This had to happen silently and as off the books as humanly possible.



The meeting place was as non-descript as the phone message had been, a little pub on one of the darker side streets in Manhattan. Tarin waited with a beer, and every intention of buying his new associate one as well. The Dallas Cowboys hat he’d worn into the bar sat on the table, the marker to indicate him to the other man. Not everyone was a Cowboy’s fan, but Tarin liked the hat. Had he been any less serious about what was going on, he might have found the whole thing a little silly and over the top. Tarin was dead serious though. The only way he and Lee were going to truly get back to normal was if this Anton clown was off the streets for good. There was only one way that was going to happen. Tarin knew he had the means. Execution was the problem.

The Ranger normally didn't receive many calls, few had his number. So a call in in itself was surprising, but nowhere near as surprising as the message left, a few details and Slate's name mentioned. He couldn't ignore this call.

With as little information as there was the intent of the meeting could not be discerned. Granted, it was in a public place but caution was still warranted. As such he fired up the F650 and loaded a sidearm into both of his underarm holsters. A Sig P226 loaded with .357 Sig, his current gun of choice, and his new toy an FN Five-seveN loaded with 5.7x28mm. He was planning for the worst in hope of being surprised with a pleasant encounter. And to that end he would have his F650 turned tactical staging area nearby.

When the Ranger arrived at the pub he was to meet the man who called he slid in through the front door. He didn't want to bring attention to himself and he would prefer sizing up the caller before he was aware the Ranger was there. He scanned the pub and saw it, a Dallas Cowboys cap. He made his way around tables and people to approach the man. The man was turned away and the Ranger couldn't make the face, despite a nagging feeling he had seen this man somewhere. He took the seat next to the man, the noise of the pub masking the chair sliding, and spoke his hand slid into his jacket near the grip of the Sig under his left arm,

"Howdy friend, you..." The Ranger stopped and retracted his hand from his jacket, he now recognized the man."Tarin?! What's goin' on?" The question was not so much a question as to why he was here, but more of what the situation was that would have him using Slate's name and calling someone who Slate has used as an assassin.

Tarin didn’t have to wait long. Not at all. He hadn’t even gotten through a third of the beer he’d ordered when someone slipped into the chair beside him, and he was turned away, so the sight that greeted him when he turned was a surprise.

”Howdy friend, you…”

Tarin blinked, then blinked again, a tight smile spreading across his face as he recognized the man he’d met at a cross walk in the middle of the city. He was all for happenstance reunions…but he had a business meeting to attend to.

The man, Michael if Tarin was correct, asked what was going on and the Medium shrugged his shoulders, “Not a whole lot. Just waiting on a business meeting. How have you been?”

“Not a whole lot. Just waiting on a business meeting. How have you been?”

Tarin answered the question as if it was posed as a friendly greeting, not how the Ranger had intended it, and their past encounter seemed to lead him astray in his belief that the Ranger was not the man he was here to do business with.

"Oh I've been good. Jus' here t' meet a man about some business." The Ranger turned and caught a waitress, "Shiner Bock if ya have it, Lone Star if ya don't please." She nodded and continued on her way. The Ranger turned back to Tarin, "Maybe, you've seen him? Cowboy's hat an' all." He brought his right hand up as if he was holding the bill of a cap and then pointed at the cap on the table. And then to drive the point home, in a more serious tone added, "I'm yer business meetin'."

Interesting. Michael was there to meet someone for business too. Apparently this place was good for that sort of thing. Tarin was intrigued, and curious as to what sort of business another Texan could be up to in a place like this.

Michael ordered beer and Tarin approved, not that he’d have really expected anything less of someone who had proven to be as home grown Texan as his friend. The waitress left and Michael expanded a bit on the meeting he was supposed to be having. As it turned out he’d entered the bar looking for someone with a Cowboy’s hat.

2 and 2 tended to equal 4, but the situation seemed almost too surreal to be true. Michael pointed at the cap sitting on the table and spoke, and Tarin’s eyebrows rose.

”Small world.” he said dryly, taking a liberal sip of his beer to wash down the remainders of shock.

”Didn’t know you were in this kind of business.” He said, then again, he’d never asked. Their meeting had been brief, albeit pleasant. The Medium shrugged…taking the new development in stride, now that the initial surprise had passed. This was serious business.

”I’ll let you get your beer before we get into details.”

"Not sure what kind'a business you mean. Though, after droppin' Top's name I have a pretty good idea. And yeah, from time t' time if the ends justify it I do that kind'a business." The Ranger was willing to bet this was about assassination, but if his impression of Tarin was correct it would not be without justification.

Tarin decided to wait until the beer had arrived to share information. It wasn't too long before the waitress came along with a Lone Star. Sadly not enough places in New York had Shiner Bock. "Thank ya ma'am." He took the beer and took a swig before setting it down.

"Again I ask, what's goin' on?"

Tarin nodded his head as Michael spoke. Hearing Slate’s name was enough to be an indication of the type of work that needed doing. The Medium filed that way for future reference…Michael had done this work for Slate enough that the boss’ name was synonymous with a certain type of job. Interesting.

Moral compass was good here too. Michael didn’t simply ask for details…he pointed out that the end had to justify the means. Tarin was pretty sure his situation qualified…but still.

The waitress brought the beer, and Tarin nodded his head at the girl, she’d done a good job so far of staying far enough away to not intrude…but close enough to take orders.

She left…and Michael asked again. What was going on.

Tarin took a deep breath, a small drink, and spoke carefully.

”Several months ago….my wife was kidnapped.” he said, ”She was held for a long time…and it was pretty bad.”

Tarin paused, lips thinning as he spoke, ”I think we’re really lucky we got her back…it was an accident…and the police can’t find the guy.”

He stopped, shrugged, and took another drink. A sip really, ”He knew what he was doing. Had a whole set up. He’s probably done this before.”

One more pause.

”It shouldn’t happen again.”

This time Tarin answered the question as the Ranger had intended it be understood. His wife had been kidnapped, held for a prolonged period, and finally rescued by police. Apparently the rescue was accidental, most likely discovered while handling another crime. The man who did it was not apprehended, and it looked premeditated.

Assuming what Tarin said was true, and presently there was no reason to doubt him, the Ranger's services were indeed needed. Retribution in this case was wholly justified.

”It shouldn’t happen again.”

The Ranger drank some more of his beer before speaking."It sounds like this sonofabitch needs another hole in 'is head... I take it that is what you want. After what he's done he does not deserve due process, and as it wasn't a capital offense no punishment is enough." The Ranger drank some more before continuing. "The justice system is flawed, police handcuff themselves when investigatin' crimes an' their idea of justice is rehabilitation or incapacitation. Justice should be administered to such an extent that no one would dare commit such atrocities. The long arm of the law doesn't put enough in the ground, but when needed I have no problem with it."

"I need to know everythin' you know. Possible names or Aliases, location your wife was found, anythin'. I can handle it from there, the less ya know the better."

Ah. They were in agreement. Another hole in the head sounded like just the thing for the aptly titled sonofabitch who had taken Tarin’s wife. The medium leaned back in his seat and nodded his head at the things Ranger said. The police really did handcuff themselves with all their rules sometimes. Tarin wasn’t the type of man who usually thought of himself as above the law….but sometimes, a person had to take matters into their own hands.

Tarin nodded as Michael listed out the things he needed in order to complete the job that was being requested, “I can definitely do all of that except the last.” he said, voice quiet and deadly serious.

”I want in on this. I know I’m emotionally connected and all that jazz…but I also know a thing or two that could definitely help…and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. Not at all.”

Tarin seemed to approve of the Ranger's take on justice and said that he could do what was needed, except sitting back while the Ranger handled it.

”I want in on this. I know I’m emotionally connected and all that jazz…but I also know a thing or two that could definitely help…and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. Not at all.”

The Ranger took another swig before divulging why Tarin must sit it out. "Yer willingness t' get yer hands dirty is irrelevant. This type of business is very delicate, make a move too bold and the target will dig in, move to slowly and the trail runs cold. I have experience in this field, hell my old job required me to do it for survival. If you accompany me yer lack of experience in clandestine operations could lead this endeavor to failure." He drank some more, using the pause to let the reason sink in, "I know ya want t' help, but you'd be dead weight and a lead foot for me in this."

Obviously Michael didn’t know as much about the Kabal as Tarin had assumed. The close connection to Slate had caused him to make a few assumptions, a few assumptions that has proven to be wrong. Tarin didn’t get mad about the things Michael said, it made sense with the information the other man was working with. Tarin didn’t look like the type that would be good at what they were going to be doing….and Michael was making his own assumptions.

Tarin nodded his head, “I understand where you’re coming from.” Tarin said calmly, taking another swig of beer. Flipping his lid and getting angry would simply prove Michael’s point that he wasn’t cut out for helping.

“Did you know I was in Romania too?” Tarin said, looking sideways. ”In the camps?”

He shrugged his shoulders, ”I wouldn’t say I’m exactly inexperienced in clandestine operations.” A pause so the information could sink in, then Tarin spoke again, ”Let me tag along in the beginning? If you don’t think I can handle myself when the time comes for real action, I’ll back off. You’ve got my word.”

Tarin said he understood where the Ranger was coming from. At first the Ranger thought that meant it was over, that Tarin was ceding the point, but on a second thought it was clear from his tone that he understood the reasoning but was still willing to dispute the point. And in an attempt at this he announced he was in Romania, presumably during during the mess that had Ranger sent there, and that he was in the camps.

The Ranger ventured a guess that Tarin must be close to Slate indeed as there was the understanding that, more or less, Slate would disavow any knowledge of the Ranger were he to be apprehended in Romania. Alternatively, it could be an assumption based on the fact Tarin acquired contact information for the Ranger from Slate and based on the skill set that one would assume Ranger would have to have if recommended for this mission coupled Slates recent endeavors in Romania would lead to the conclusion Ranger was involved.

Regardless of whether or not Tarin knew for sure Ranger was in Romania was irrelevant, Tarin was staking a claim for experience on the fact he was in Romania. That being the truth he must have some ability for such missions, and that being the case the Ranger was willing to entertain his request.

"Alright... But I ain't callin' you a cowboy 'til I see you ride." The Ranger finished the beer and set down the bottle."The place yer wife was found seems as good as any t' start."

”Fair enough.” Tarin said, when Michael pointed out that he was going to have to see a little something to believe that Tarin could handle himself in a tough situation. ”I wouldn’t expect anything less from a professional.” and apparently that’s what Michael was.

The display on the street the day Tarin had met the other Texan had been impressive, but it hadn’t indicated this level of skill. It really was a small world, and Tarin wondered just how deeply Michael’s ties to Slate ran. It would be something to ask the boss the next time they were together.

Michael finished his beer just a little before Tarin did and when he set it down, Tarin signaled the waitress to get the tab as the other man pointed out that the place Lee was kept would be a good place to start.

”I agree completely…I think the police have picked it over…but…” Tarin trailed off and shrugged. He didn’t want to bad mouth them, Detective Cervantes was a decent sort. There were some things though…that they could do. Tarin’s face took on a grim smile.

”I think there are probably a few eyewitnesses I want to talk to there.” Witnesses the police wouldn’t have been able to question.

”I agree completely…I think the police have picked it over…but…”

"From what you've said it seems like he's done it before an' if that's the case than the police aren't good enough.

”I think there are probably a few eyewitnesses I want to talk to there.”

"Once the check get's here let's get this show on the road. We should take my ride, from here out the cops are no longer on our side. My truck has no valid identification on it and is the perfect vehicle for these type of operations.."

Tarin nodded when Michael suggested that if Anton had done this before, the police obviously hadn’t done enough. It was one thing to knock them for things outside of their control, but for whatever reason a man as dangerous as Anton was still on the streets. Yes. It was most definitely time to take matters into their own hands.

Tarin was the one who had asked for help, and if Michael decided he could stick around, he was definitely going to let the other man take the lead. As much as he’d done in Columbia and Romania, Tarin wasn’t delusional. Working in New York City was an entirely different plane. They couldn’t leave after they’d wreaked havoc. This had to be done right.

Tarin couldn’t help but still be a little floored by the revelation that the guy he’d met on the street was so well versed in what they were about to do. It was fascinating, it was interesting, it was a little unbelievable. It was happening.

The waitress brought the check, and Tarin paid. He’d initiated the business meeting, it was only fair. Besides, Michael had offered to drive. In a vehicle that was apparently going to be more incognito than anything Tarin could provide.

”Sounds like a plan.” Tarin said. ”I know where we’re going.” Wow. Not what he’d expected…getting right down to business. Excellent.