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The rest of 'em decided to drop on us all at once. Luckily, I was able to get the crotch scratcher's name and the names of his buddies before they showed up. Then I stripped him naked and handcuffed him to a lamp post, took his weapons and ran like hell, tying a torn-off strip of his shirt around the wound on my arm as I ran.

I couldn't find my parents anywhere. Some of these bastards must've been keeping them busy. At least, I hoped it wasn't something even worse than that.

I had only a minute to look for them before the hunters appeared. The first sign of their presence was the sound of footsteps and a faint click behind me. I hit the pavement, boosted myself again and rolled to the side a split-second before a small rocket zipped through the space where I'd been standing.

It hit a truck parked a half-block away and blew it to hell. This wasn't the kind of explosion you see in movies--there wasn't that much fire, but the truck pretty much disintegrated and shrapnel perforated everything near it. I could actually see the shockwave spreading through the air like an expanding bubble before I ducked and threw my arms over my face. The sudden, sharp boom was deafening, the concussion knocked me flat, the debris tore the shit out of me. If I hadn't wrapped my wings around myself before the rocket hit the truck, they would've been shredded instead of sliced in a few dozen places, and if I hadn't been wearing my armor vest, I would've been well and truly hosed.

Goddamn maniacs.

I rolled behind another car and peeked under it. Saw five pairs of black boots marching toward me. I scooted over to look around the front end of the car and took note of the weapons they were carrying--one sniper rifle, two assault rifles, a mini-rocket launcher, and a shotgun with a drum magazine. Lovely.

They all had helmets with dark visors, so I couldn't see their faces. Brave hunters, hiding behind masks.

I ducked back out of sight--just as the guy with the shotgun opened up on the car I'd taken cover behind. The round punched clean through and exited maybe six inches from my head. I dodged just as he fired another shot through the car, then another and another. I avoided each shot, but another hit within inches of me each time I stopped moving. I was running out of cover--and as soon as I moved out from behind the car, I'd be torn apart by a hail of bullets and maybe a rocket or two.

Shit.

The next shot punched through the rear tire, nearly blowing it up in my face. I flung myself aside again--then an idea sank in, one that I should've thought of as soon as they started shooting. I stretched out on the ground, aimed under the car and put an armor-piercing round through the shotgun dude's ankle. He screamed and dropped, letting go of his gun and clutching his leg.

I took down one of the others the same way before the rest of them scattered.

One of them headed straight for me, screaming and firing his machine gun wildly.

I jumped up, grabbed the underside of the car and flipped it just as the guy got within range. He tried to jump out of the way, but wasn't fast enough--the car rolled over on him, pinning him under it, and a considerable number of his bones crunched. And goddamn, what a satisfying sound that was.

That left two of them still standing.

One of whom was the guy carrying the rocket launcher. He already had it aimed at me before I noticed him. I bolted before I even had a chance to panic. Another deafening bang as the car blew up, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the ground with the world spinning around me and a searing pain lancing through my left leg.

Everything went all hazy on me for what felt like several minutes, but was probably only a few seconds, since it wouldn't have taken much longer than that for them to pump a few dozen bullets into me.

I looked up, my vision clearing gradually, expecting to see the two assholes aiming their guns at me point-blank...but instead, I found my parents surrounding them, guns pointed at their heads. Mom-C glanced at me and her muzzle fell open and her glowing eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

Marvelous. If I was hurt that badly...

"Sorry we're late," Dad said without taking his eyes off the two men. "We ran into some of their buddies right after you left." Blood trickled from his nose and a bruise was forming on his cheek.

Mom-T looked at me and gasped. "Oh, shit!"

Dad risked a glance at me and his face turned pale.

I really didn't want to look at my leg--for all I knew, it could've been blown off completely, or mangled beyond all recognition--but I had to see how bad it was. So I gritted my teeth and pointed my eyes at my left thigh.

It wasn't as bad as I'd feared, but it was bad enough. A twisted piece of metal had lodged itself in my thigh. I couldn't tell how deep it had gone, but from the intensity of the pain, I wouldn't have been surprised if it was an inch from poking out the other side of my leg.

"Oh, fuck," I grunted. If the shrapnel was near any major arteries, one wrong movement could cause me to bleed to death.

I checked the rest of my body for more wounds, holding my leg still, but found nothing serious.

"I'm calling an ambulance." Mom-T kept her eyes on the men in front of her, using her comlink implant to request the ambulance.

I made a note to myself to get one of those things someday.

"Did you find the one I cuffed to the lamp post?" I said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, no, not yet; we'll get him when we're done here. We did get the ones who ambushed us and another half-dozen on their way to back these douchebags up."

"Good." I looked around and found the two I'd wounded, unarmed and sitting on the curb and sporting pairs of shiny new handcuffs. Their helmets and armor were gone.

The one who was pinned under the car...well, I'll just say that I'm lucky I didn't get splattered with his bodily fluids when the car blew.

"An ambulance is on the way," Mom-T said, reaching out to slap the cuffs on one of the last two hunters. "I also called for backup to help haul these guys in."

The other man bolted.

I whipped my gun up, but she was on him before he got more than three steps. He took a swing at her and she blocked it, spun and pumped her right leg out. Bam! Face full of hoof. He landed on his shoulder blades and almost flipped over before gravity caught him.

"Nice one, Taura," Dad chuckled as the guy sprawled on the pavement.

"They never learn."

"Nope."

"We'd better make sure the other guy doesn't try to run." I popped the clip out of my gun, dug a magazine of mini-beanbag rounds from my pocket and shoved it in. "Besides, I owe him some payback just for trying to kill us. Better stand back." After my parents got clear of the hunter, I fired a round into his chest, knocking him off his feet. I wanted to stomp the shit out of him, but I couldn't risk moving my leg.

"Okay." Dad raised an eyebrow. "Now, if you wouldn't mind sitting the rest of this out and letting us take it from here?"

"Fine. But only until I'm patched up. I'm still gonna finish this."

Dad shook his head and grumbled, "Such a shame you're too old to ground."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, next time I date someone, I'll get him or her to spank me." I grinned.

Dad grimaced. "I'm gonna try to pretend I didn't hear that."

Mom-C giggled. "Just take it easy, kiddo. It's over for now--until you get out of surgery and get settled into a hospital room, at which time you'll need to give the cops and our boss a detailed report."

"Don't be surprised if the families of these dead idiots try to nail you for murder or sue you or some shit like that," Dad said. "That's why we'll need a thorough statement as soon as possible."

"Right." I sighed. As if it wasn't bad enough back when some chucklefuck would injure himself while burglarizing someone's house, then sue his victim--and win. But now, if I didn't play my cards right, I could be thrown into the slam for not letting these jackoffs kill me.

Glad I have something to look forward to.

#

The hospital food was ass. And they stuck me in a room with a guy who wouldn't turn his TV down to a reasonable volume level. I was trying to do some investigating with my phone/media sheet/handheld computer/decorative bracelet, but it was hard to concentrate when the guy next to me had an Airwolf marathon running at full blast on the Retro Channel. What a ridiculous show, even for one that's almost ninety years old. Maybe if someone would CG it up and fix the shitty FX, repetitive stock footage, and numerous continuity errors, maybe they'd have something worth watching.

Well, not likely. Each episode was the same thing over and over--the last five or ten minutes were always more repetitive than all the porno movies I've seen combined. And Jan Michael Vincent always looked like he was half asleep. Decent enough actor, but you could've blindfolded him with fucking dental floss.

Christ. I'm analyzing a silly show that was canceled before my dad was born. And I had the goddamn theme song stuck on infinite loop in my head all day.

Being stuck in the hospital really fucked up my feng shui.

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I got up, limped over to my roommate's bed and turned the volume down myself. He drew in a deep breath, presumably to tell me off, but then he looked up at me and all the color drained from his face. I flexed my pipes and snarled, and he kept his mouth shut. I returned to my bed and smiled. The sudden (relative) peace and quiet was pure bliss.

At least I was expected to be there only a couple of days, maybe three. The new nanotech treatment they'd used was repairing my injuries far faster than any previous techniques could have, but was still working slowly enough to keep the discomfort at a minimum. Still, sometimes I swore I could feel the things working...a tingle every now and then, a sudden itch, or occasionally a full-on jabbing pain. Mostly, though, it was like the sensation you get when a spider scurries across your arm, only it was deep inside my body.

I think this nanotech thing is in need of some fine-tuning. Or maybe I was just imagining it all. Knowing that thousands of tiny machines are crawling through your body might mess with your mind just a little.

Either way, all I could do was try to ignore it.

I returned to my investigation of Theron and his henchmen. He and his top-level cronies had gone to ground and both the cops and my parents' agency were searching for them, but they hadn't turned up yet.

Which was fine with me. Once I was released from the hospital, I wanted a shot at that bastard, myself.

However, the little hunting party, I learned when my parents dropped in to check on me, had spilled the beans on their entire operation.

"A few of them tried to protect the rest, but others couldn't answer our questions fast enough," Mom-C said with a predatory grin. "They gave us the names of everyone else involved, right down to the people who supplied them with weapons and armor and the chauffeurs who drove them to each site."

"Good," I said. "I hope this is the last time shit like this happens."

"We keep hoping the same thing, but it seems to start up again every few years." Mom-T sighed and shook her head. "I guess we're too tempting a challenge for this sort of people."

"Well," Dad said, slipping his arm around her waist, "a bunch of the so-called hunters were killed this time, so maybe now everyone else will find a new hobby."

"I hope so."

We talked for a few more minutes, then they had to get back to work. And so did I; I wanted to find out as much as I could about Theron's operations so I'd know where to look for him--his "business" partners and other associates, possible places he might hide, people he'd be most likely to go crawling to when he needed help. It wasn't long before I had a list of places to search once I got out of here.

Eventually, I started running into dead ends, so I decided to take a break. It was almost lunchtime, anyway, so I braced myself for another bland or downright nasty meal. And wished that I'd thought to ask my parents to smuggle in a few submarine sandwiches or maybe some large orders of crab puffs and mar far chicken.

Oh, well. If the food doesn't kill ya, it makes ya stronger.

#

The next day started off with some good news, for once. The nanobots were working their microscopic magic faster than the doctors had expected, and I was told that I would be able to go home that afternoon. They still wouldn't be finished for a day or so, but as long as I took it easy, there was no reason to keep me there. The nanobots would finish their job and then "pass themselves out of my body."

I didn't ask for clarification on that last part. As long as I didn't witness them oozing out from between my scales or find metallic flecks of dust in the toilet after taking a leak, I figured I could live with it.

My good mood lasted until the guy in the bed on my left tuned in to today's Retro Channel marathon--The A-Team. At least that show was kinda fun despite being so retarded. Still, it's one of those things I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that I've watched.

And, of course, the theme got stuck in my head immediately. But at least the guy didn't turn the volume all the way up like he had the previous day.

After finding nothing new in my investigation of Blake Theron, I gave up on it and decided to check my email. I replied to a few from my friends, then deleted the spam--mostly porn--that had piled up over the last few days. I'd learned long ago not to click any of the links in those things; some things should not be seen by anyone, and once your eyes are violated, those images can't be _un_seen. Besides, when I want to look at porn, I'm quite capable of finding it myself, thank you very much.

After that, I spent the next few hours playing around on the net. The site that kept my attention the longest was a forum where low-level employees vented their frustrations about customers and spineless managers. I've always had a fascination with the kinds of stories I found there, probably triggered by Dad's horror stories about his pizza-delivery days that I heard while growing up. I'd often suspected he was making all that stuff up--until I was old enough to get a job and start interacting with the public. Damn, was I wrong.

Reading those stories, hearing Dad's anecdotes, and having a few of my own experiences, convinced me that I'd never last long in retail or fast-food. I don't tolerate people treating me like shit, but when you're stuck working that kind of job, you have to stand there and take it or you get fired. I swore I'd never live like that, so as soon as I finished high school, I started doing freelance jobs like my moms did when they met Dad. Mostly muscle work, bodyguard gigs, moving heavy equipment, that sort of thing. The kinds of people I often dealt with were the same types that Dad had to put up with before he quit his pizza job, only these guys often carried guns and knives.

From that came a desire to fight back against all the assholes in the world and get rid of as many as possible. That led me to the Fugitive Retrieval Agency. I had the same instinctive distrust of authority figures that Dad has, I don't like taking orders from anyone, and I prefer to work on my own, so any sort of police job wasn't an option. Being a chaser, though, suited my needs quite nicely.

And my very first assignment could've gotten my brother and our parents killed. Christ. Talk about getting off to a hell of a start.

#

Finally, Dr. Harris told me that I was free to go. I leaped off the bed as soon as the words left his mouth and took off the pastel green gown they'd forced me to wear.

"Oh, be careful!" he said. "You'll need to take it easy for the next few days, just to be sure you're completely healed."

"No offense, Doc, but I can't stand to spend one more minute in this place." I limped over to the closet, grabbed my clothes and threw them on, and headed for the door without bothering to zip my vest up. I checked my pockets for my wallet and ID, turned the corner and focused my attention on the elevator at the end of the hall, ignoring the murmur of voices around me.

Until one voice, louder than the rest, caught my attention.

"No," a woman in one of the rooms on the left shouted as I strode past her door, "it's my pants! My pants make my crotch smell like tuna!"

I almost stopped in my tracks. I kind of stumbled, but kept going, limping faster and hoping someone would incinerate her gown and sheets and even the mattress after they released her. Eww!

I squeezed into the elevator, rode it to the main floor, and crossed the lobby so fast it could've caused a time warp. Outside, parked right in front of me, was my van. Mom-C leaned against it with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I thought about bringing flowers," she said with a roguish grin as she reached through the window and picked something up from the passenger seat, "but I figured you'd rather have this." She held out my gun.

"Thanks!" I grinned, took it and hugged her. "Where are...?"

"In the back." She slid the van's door open to reveal Dad and Mom-T. "Jack wanted to drive your battle wagon, but he couldn't see over the dashboard."

"Hey!" He laughed.

"Okay, he could see over it, but barely."

Dad made a farting sound with his lips and gave her a playful swat on the ass as she took the seat beside him. He and Mom-T hugged me and congratulated me on my escape from the hospital, then I slid in behind the wheel and started the engine.

"So," Mom-T said, "what now?"

"First, I need some real food. I'm still afraid the stuff I had to eat in there might turn my ass into a volcano."

She chuckled. "And after that?"

"Theron. Has he been found yet?"

"No." She looked away and sighed, already knowing what I was about to say.

"Good. He's mine." I shifted into first gear and rumbled across the parking lot.

"Don't you think you should give yourself time to heal first?" Dad said.

I sighed. "I'll give it a day. Maybe. Unless someone else finds him first." I glanced into the rearview mirror and met his gaze for a second. "If that happens, I want to be the first to know."

"Fine, one day," he muttered. "Take one day off to rest. Then...well, I guess we can't talk you out of it, so--"

"Damn right."

Silence for a few seconds. Then Mom-C leaned forward and tapped my shoulder.

"Actually, there's something that might keep you occupied for the next day or two."

"Oh? What's that?"

She grinned and winked. "It's a surprise."

#

They refused to tell me what the "surprise" was even though I pestered them throughout the ride to their house. The only hint Mom-C gave me was to warn me to eat lightly so I'd have room for dinner, and that I should have it at a specific restaurant at eight o'clock that night.

Oh, well. If they'd told me what it was, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?

After lunch I went home and made an honest effort to rest even though I was itching to hunt down the man responsible for the crap we'd just gone through. I took a quick shower, brewed some coffee and sat on my ass for the rest of the afternoon and watched TV until seven. Then I put on one of my nicest outfits, a low-cut black vest, matching shorts and calf-length boots. I'm not the kind of girl who dresses up often, and even when I do, I don't like to overdo it.

The only accessories I brought with me to the van were my gun--which I intended to leave under the seat, just in case--and my phone, which I switched to bracelet mode and locked around my right wrist. I tapped one of the pattern presets and its color morphed into a softly glowing ruby. Then I checked my reflection in the window one last time, brushed a few wayward strands of hair back into place, got in and hit the road.

The location of my surprise had valet parking, I noticed when I entered the lot. I passed the valets by and found my own parking space. I don't like the idea of someone else driving my baby. Not to mention the reaction that might be provoked if the valet happened to find my gun. But mostly, the thought of having someone else park my van, like some rich tool who had servants to do everything for her, made my skin crawl.

I caped my wings around my shoulders, ducked through the front door, and checked the ceiling before straightening up. This place had a nice, high ceiling; I wouldn't have to worry about thumping my head on it. The doorways were human-size, so I'd have to duck when I entered the dining room, but at least I wouldn't have to spend my whole time here bent over.

The guy behind the counter paled at the sight of me. I smiled and took my wallet out, showed him my ID and asked if a table was available.

"Oh, yes, your parents made a reservation this morning." He pressed a button under the counter and waved a hand at the dining area. "Your party is waiting. Roderick will walk you to your table."

"Ah. Thanks." My party? Huh...

A moment later, one of the waiters arrived and escorted me to a table at the far end of the room. Two people sat there, both human, one male and one female. I raised a brow ridge as they stood and smiled. The girl was around my age, had shoulder-length, red hair and a voluptuous figure wrapped in a gold blouse, red silk jacket and matching pants. The guy looked about the same age, was a little chunky and wore small, wire-frame glasses. His brown hair was tied into a ponytail, and he was wearing black cargo pants and--of all things--a Doctor Who T-shirt. He was cute as hell--and I had to give him points right off the bat for having a shirt with my favorite Doctor's face on it.

Suddenly, I recognized the girl. "Marissa?"

"That's me. Do people still call you Boiler?"

"Yeah." I grinned and shook her hand, and stammered as I tried to think of something to say. "I-I-I, uh...um, sorry--you're gorgeous! It's a little distracting."

She blushed and tucked her hair behind her left ear. "Thanks. You're looking pretty hot, yourself. And quite imposing. I think you've grown a few inches since high school."

"Probably. I haven't really been keeping track." I realized that I was still holding her hand, and let it go with a blush of my own.

"I'm afraid the only growing I've done is horizontally," the guy said with a sheepish grin.

I gave him a quick look-over and didn't recognize him at first. But based on what I was starting to suspect...

"Seth?" I guessed.

"Yep." He reached out to shake my hand, and again, my brain locked up and I kept my hand clamped onto his and grinned like a dumbass for a long moment before I recovered.

"I...uh, wow, it's really great to see you! I was just thinking about calling you yesterday."

"Your parents mentioned that, from what I heard." Marissa waved a hand at the third chair and I lowered myself carefully onto it, just in case my four hundred pounds of muscle proved to be too much for it. It creaked a bit, but held me up.

"My parents...?" My brow ridges shot upward. "Did they set this up?"

"Well, we share some mutual friends with them," Seth said as he and Marissa sat. "Otto and Shakira. One of your parents mentioned to them that you were thinking about getting in touch with us, and Shakira decided to play matchmaker."

"Oh." I winced. I don't like people stepping into my business, but in this case I didn't really mind. Still: "I hope they didn't pressure you into this."

"Nah." Marissa grinned. "As it happened, I'm available and didn't have anything else planned for the evening. And I have to admit that I was kind of intrigued by the idea."

"Same here." Seth picked up his glass of water and sipped. He blushed and cleared his throat. "Back in high school, I...well, I had a bit of a crush on you. I just didn't...well, you scared the crap out of me, so I never worked up the nerve to ask you out on a date."

"Really?" I grinned. "If only I'd known, I would've had the nerve to ask you out."

"Well, we can do a little catching up now." He waved his hand at his belly. "If you'd be willing to date a fatass like me, that is."

"Oh, you're not a fatass! You look fantastic." I caught myself staring at him and blushed. "If I'm not careful, I'm gonna start drooling."

He laughed and looked at the table.

Marissa looked him over and smiled. "You won't hear me complaining."

I laughed softly. Wow. If things went well tonight, it just might be the only thing that could distract me from that son of a bitch, Theron.

Still, given what happened the last time I had dinner with someone, I couldn't help worrying that something terrible might happen soon.

But an opportunity like this doesn't happen often, and I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't find out where this might go. So I decided to jump right in. If things did go all pear-shaped later, well, I wouldn't let it spoil the moment.

Which turned out to be the right choice, I discovered later; things were about to go sideways on me soon enough....