"I think we should hit this section of the mountains" Rodney whispered to who I can only assume was Brittock.

"I agree."

"Making plans without me?" I mumbled, voice groggy from sleep. I sat up in my sleeping bag and looked at them.

"That is just... pathetic" Rodney said after staring at me for a second.

"Why?" I asked. I looked down and saw the polyester worm that was my body.

"You are a mess" Brittock commented.

"Am not" I pouted, pulling the sleeping bag over my face and laying back down.

"Your hair resembles a... rats nest" Rodney continued to tease.

"Whatever" I snapped and rolled to my stomach. I inched slowly toward them and the map, eventually making it to a standing position that allowed me to hop the last few feet. "Which section?"

"No. I can't talk to you like this, get out of there" Rodney poked my sleeping bag with his finger.

"Fine" I grumbled. After I cleaned up, the boys explained the plan and we packed our gear up and headed out. I started off in the front with Brittock, but quickly grew bored and meandered my way to the back with Rodney.

"You bring nothing but distraction and strife with you" Rodney said when he heard my shaky footsteps.

"I'm not an atomic bomb" I retorted, offended at his implications.

"No, I think I prefer those. What do you need?"

"Someone to talk to, I'm bored" I hesitantly plopped down, dangling my feet off the edge of the truck like Rodney's.

"You should be scouting" he said, handing me a set of binoculars.

"Like I'm going to see something before you do, Master Predator" which was true, his heightened senses and grim determination made him an excellent hunter/tracker.

"Still-" but Rodney was cut off when an explosion blew the humvee sideways, flipping us over repeatedly. I was thrown from the truck, which proceeded to roll over me on it's speedy course. My entire body crushed, I lie in a pool of my own blood, fighting to stay conscious and failing.

The last thing I saw was Rodney's unmoving body laying feet from me, out of the path of the rolling vehicle.

_____________________

"Ugh" I groaned, moving my arm an inch. I was sore. I had never been so terribly injured that I was sore after healing. My skin was red and blistered from a sunburn that couldn't heal because of the continued exposure.

"Ro- Rodney?" I mumbled with cracked lips, ripping open my eyes to search for the place that I had last seen him. The sun, which had been bright in the sky when we crashed, was now setting. I crawled to my hands and knees and made my way to my red haired friend. Feeling for his pulse, I found it slow and steady, telling me he was just unconscious.

I turned toward the direction the truck had rolled and stood up, searching the horizon for the vehicle. In the distance was the humvee, smoking and crumbled, looking worse for wear. I jog/limped my way to truck, hoping that I would find Brittock unharmed in the wreckage.

But I wasn't that lucky.

I grabbed Brittock's heavy body by his arms and tried to drag his lifeless form from the humvee.

"Come on" I mumbled sadly, testing his pulse to find none.

I splayed my fingers across his chest and looked into his eyes, which were so much less beautiful compared to their usual intensity. His hair was bloody from several gashes and a large dent.

"Wake up" I whispered, caressing hair. I knew that the tears in my eyes were pointless because this just meant he was awake in The Penthouse, healthy and angry as hell.

"What's this then?" a voice said in the distance, standing over Rodney's body. I jumped at the sound of voices and ran, leaving Brittock's body to hide behind the flipped truck. The black man nudged him and continued, "Don't we know this bloke? The one with the saucy bit for a daughter."

"Lunkfield" the other one, a tall, garish looking man with salt and pepper hair, grunted.

"So he's the one been killing our men. How do you like a kiss from my Bessie" the stupid, cockney idiot said, stroking the bazooka in his hand fondly.

"Yeah, not much of a killer now! But where's the truck with the other two duckies" I squatted down quickly as both men scanned the horizon looking for my hiding place. I quickly skittered to the back of the humvee and searched for Brittock's best friend.

Finding the large black case, I dragged it back out of the back, trying my best to stay out of sight.

Unlocking the case clasps, I pulled out the M21 rifle and prepared to quickly stand and set myself up to take one kill shot. When I heard approaching steps, I stood up, placing the rifle on the side of the humvee and lining up a quick shot. I hit the cockney bastard in between the eyes, killing him instantly. Before I could reload, the other man pulled his hand gun and shot me in the chest. I fell backward with the impact, leaving the rifle resting on the truck. I felt my body push the bullet out of my skin, but it was too late, the man came sprinting around the car, firearm raised. He was not taking any chances.

Upon seeing me alive, he shot me again. I rolled over just in time to catch the bullet in my shoulder.

"Stop moving you little bitch" he growled, squeezing the trigger.

"Straff!" Rodney roared right before he tackled the man opposite me to the ground. They rolled around, throwing punches. Rodney had Straff pinned to the ground by the throat, choking the life out of him, until Straff grabbed a knife from his clothing and stabbed Rodney in the stomach, dragging the blade up and practically gutting him.

"No!" I yelled, jumping on Straff as soon as he pushed Rodney off. He pinned me to the ground and punched me three times before movement from Rodney grabbed his attention.

Pulling me backwards, Straff held me close to his body, holding the same knife to my throat that he used to cut Rodney.

"Don't move Lunkfield" Straff threatened.

"Dr-Drop her" Rodney gasped, holding his stomach closed.

"You've lost Lunkfield. You always lose. You lost your daughter and now you're losing yourself. I am surprised, I figured you would have died by now. Probably don't have many lives left huh? That was Malt's last life your little bitch friend here took" he spat, clenching my hair tightly and exposing my neck.

Rodney made eye contact with me, telling me everything I needed to know, especially when I saw my weapons belt on his waist.

"I'm sorry" Rodney said, showing true sorrow in his eyes.

I nodded while Straff said, "I'm not. Your daughter was worth it, I'm sure Malt would agree. She was perfect, all twenty versions."

I slid my leg behind me and flung my body backward, throwing the two of us backwards. Straff instinctively cut my throat, which healed relatively quickly, but my twelve inch Bowie knife that Rodney shoved through my heart and into Straff's with his body weight did not.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry" Rodney mumbled over and over again as he weakly tried to reach up and remove the knife, but his wounded body would have none of it. His last bit of energy had been used in the kill strike to Straff... and me.

"It's ok" I whispered before I closed my eyes. Seems like this happens a lot...