The cold autumn night air had set in on the outskirts of the city. It stung their lungs as they sharply inhaled in their breakneck run from the restaurant down the dark and slick city streets. Despite Cain's battered condition and his unusually frantic mental state he ignored the sharpness in his chest with each breath. The two panicked, shocked and horrified women straggling behind him were not as invulnerable to the cold night air's effect. The harsh air, combined with the cramping in their legs, caused them to slow. Gasping for breath, Cain's wife stopped in her tracks. She frantically panted and tried to regain her breath while waiting for her sister who had fallen even farther behind. Possessed and gripped by an encompassing fear and shock, all she could manage to do in this moment was scream the name of her husband to get him stop him, or at least to slow him down.

"Cain-" she attempted three times.

"CAIN," she finally bellowed.

She had never seen her husband like this. Reeling from what she'd just seen him do, he was now so cold, unflinching that it made her question the last ten minutes of her life. She'd never seen anyone, let alone Cain, exhibit such murderous intent, let alone act on it with such skill and practiced expertise. The cognitive shock was so intense that she was left frightened and confused not just in the moment, but it made her question her relationship with the man she married.

The gentle, loving, caring, easy-going jovial husband she'd known for years just savagely murdered two of the most dangerous individuals she had ever seen with a skill and ease that was unbelievable. What frightened her more was his ability to take the situation in stride, as if the magnitude of death they had witnessed was simply routine to him. The callus nature of his attitude was as puzzling as it was disturbing to her.

There in the darkened side streets of the sprawling urban landscape, Cain unexpectedly stopped short. Despite the horrific nature of what they'd just endured, he found his instincts still served him. The wet street now seemed as expansive as if they were standing on a flat and sprawling prairie. The training in him scanned the area, isolating each point of potential attack and ambush.

"Move to the side of the street and stay close to the parked cars," he growled emotionlessly in a tone that his wife had never heard him use before.

While he'd carefully orchestrated their exit, hiding their panicked egress from the three Triumvirate sedans that had brought him to the restaurant, he knew that despite his worlds colliding, that to survive, he would have to get distance from the cars who by now would be looking for him. The Monitor had undoubtedly seen the chaotic series of events unfold within the restaurant.

"CAIN!"

The anguished cry of his wife, sobbing his name cut through to his core. He turned swiftly and his gaze softened a bit. His wife had sunk to her knees. Her sister's sobbing form lay on the concrete a few feet behind her. His heart ached at the pain and suffering they now endured because he had walked into that restaurant. The dichotomy of his two worlds once again threatened to freeze him in his tracks, crippling his ability to make decisions or even function. Standing stock still for a split second, he realized that for their own safety he had to keep them moving or they would surely die.

"Cain, what the hell is going on," she said gasping.

Oddly, despite the impending danger of their situation he couldn't help but notice how elegantly her blond hair hung loosely around her beautifully chiseled face.

"Who were those- those people? You killed- They killed so many- So much blood, I- I can't" she babbled with the full mental shock of the situation seizing her mind.

She slowly sunk into a sobbing mass of confusion and horror there on the sidewalk, collapsing against the cold fender of a car.

"Look at me," he said gripping her shoulders.

Her supple frame melted within his grasp as she reacted by pushing herself away from the man she thought she knew before she saw him cut down two other human beings as if they were nothing.

"Raylene, look at me. We are in great danger. I need to you put your trust in me. I can get us out of here and make sure that we are safe, but I need you to do exactly as I tell you. You can't question me."

It seemed as if someone else was speaking his words as the instructions came out in a steady stream and single breath.

"They will be sending people after us. We have to get as far away from here as we can," his voice faltered as he stared into the doe eyes of his wife, as if he was corrupting an innocent, shattering her world with the fury and darkness of his own.

"What- what are you saying? Who is after us? What were you doing there at the restaurant and who were those people you killed? I- I can't even..." Raylene breathed, struggling with a sheer sense of surrealism as disbelief and denial of the situation seized control of her.

Tears began to stream down her face as she struggled to come to grips with her situation.

"I don't understand... I just don't understand... Who are you Cain? What are you," she demanded more forcefully looking at him as if it was for the first time.

Disturbingly, instead of her husband it was like a stranger was peering back and her through his eyes. She couldn't recognize the cold ferocity she saw in the depths of his gaze. She took in his blood-stained sword and scabbard, expensive Italian suit and bloodied face and hands which caused her to experience a toxic mixture of fear and disbelief before culminating into a new underlying feeling. Betrayal.

Regardless, Cain knew their window for escape was compressing. While no one he knew of in recent history had been in his position, he began to anticipate that the Monitor would be receiving instructions. Whatever they were, they would be swift, merciless and exacting. Cain had witnessed firsthand the Triumvirate's lack of tolerance for disrespect and betrayal as he had been the instrument of retribution and revenge on more than several occasions. He realized that he would have to get them moving. Emotional appeals explanations about the true dangers of their situation would take too long. Although it pained him, he reverted to a tactical frame of mind, burying feelings and emotions and controlled himself enough to accomplish the immediate objective. Their survival.

"Raylene," he said now more forcefully and coldly.

"Pick her up. We have to get off the street."

His wife sensed the drastic change in his demeanor. If he was cold, tactical and unrelenting before, he had somehow become even more so now. Staring at him in near disbelief, she couldn't even register what he was saying, leading her to question him once again.

"Cain, what are you involved in?"

Before she could finish the sentence, he sharply retorted, staring her directly in the face

"Raylene, get her moving. Now."

His voice almost faltered as he had never talked to his wife in such a manner. However, his hopes were realized as his stern demeanor and urgency forced her into motion. She stumbled over to her sobbing sister, picking her up, draping her arm around her neck. Cain was already in motion, making plans for their survival. With his wife and sister in tow, he paused in front of a European passenger sedan. Without hesitation, he smashed his fist through the driver's side window. The shattering of the glass seemed to echo as the silence from the two women signaled their disbelief as Cain set about his plan. Ignoring the shrieking echo of the car's alarm system, he opened the door and slipped into the driver's seat. Quickly withdrawing a small stiletto blade from the depths of his trench coat and using savage force, He ripped the ignition housing from the steering column. Unlocking the other doors, he motioned for his wife to get into the car.

In the distance he heard the shrill whaling sounds of sirens as the first of the patrol cars were dispatched to the restaurant. Judging just how quickly the police units responded, it was clear that they were notified not by standard means, but by a more sinister means. He had long suspected the reach of the Triumvirate and the Monitors was much greater than what was disclosed to his kind. He could feel their time growing shorter by the second, but he could never anticipate what was about to happen next.

Once he managed to get the stolen silver sedan moving, the night behind them was pierced by the xenon high intensity headlights of a luxury sedan, followed by the throaty roar of its engine and the squeal of tires. Ironically, the same sedan which brought Cain to the restaurant now bore down on them. Glancing in the mirror he saw his wife's head silhouetted in the eerie glow from the threatening car's headlamps. Without hesitation he shouted at her.

"Get your head down!"

Not even seconds later, Cain's wife was showered with the miniscule chunks of glass from effective gunfire that shattered the rear windshield. Her body and the body of her sister were violently pitched as the car found traction and lurched forward while Cain worked the gearshift with frantic confidence. The car spun into motion, but the light from the pursuer's headlights failed to wane. The entire frame of the car shuddered with a violent impact and Raylene knew at once what was happening. The car chasing them was attempting to run them off the road. The black sedan drove its forward bumper into the rear panel of their sliver automobile, attempting to destabilize Cain's control of the car and send it into an uncontrolled spin.

Through incredible foresight, luck, or through skill and experience, Cain turned the car into the skid, paralleling the Triumvirate sedan. Tires squealed and both automobiles shuddered as they sideswiped each other on the side streets of the restaurant's surrounding neighborhoods. The cars, taking up both lanes of the street now as they furiously fought to stay on the road, were side by side such that Cain could see into the windows of the black car. Although the windows were tinted, he saw a silhouette of the driver. The man swiveled his head towards Cain as he bent low over the steering wheel, bracing himself for an impact. As anticipated, the man swung his car in a predictable arc towards Cain's car.

The large black sedan's engine roared, and its larger more powerful frame would quickly overpower the car Cain was driving, sending it into the parked row of cars of to his right. The car whistled towards Cain like a lance, but sailed through empty air until it sparks flew and metal twisted as it smashed into the cars parked on the street. Cain had slammed his brakes, using the open space that intersection they had just sped through afforded him. He was able to further slow his speed by sending the car into a power slide. Tires squealed and the car trembled as it struggled to keep up with Cain's demands. His wife and her sister held on as tightly as they could, but the unpredictable motion of the car caused Raylene's sister to slam her head into the door's frame. She clutched her skull as blood began to seep through her fingers.

Cain could hear the sirens closing in now as he spun the car in the opposite direction, keeping watch now for the black sedan as the driver attempted to excavate it from its resting place. The throaty growl of the pursuing sedan's engine and the wrenching sound of metal and plastic faded as Cain used his momentary advantage to increase the distance between him and his pursuers. Weaving in and out of traffic, the blare of horns, and the cold lights from the city would normally serve to keep him alert and focused. However, the deafening silence from his wife as she cradled her sister's limp and bleeding body was a schism in his mind. He pitched his head back over the seat to look her in the face to make sure that she was still alive. His cold eyes softened as she stared back at him. She was no longer crying, no longer fearful but resolved. Cain realized that her flight or fight instincts had taken over.

Again, all at once, a thousand thoughts flew into his mind, disrupting his ability to plan a strategy to escape this situation. As a highly capable enforcer assassin, a target's escape, evasion and survival were all elements that he was trained to thwart and overcome to achieve his objective. He knew just how hard they would be pursued. The tactical and trained part of his psyche realized that planning an escape for three individuals, two of which were frightened, injured and untrained, would be a near impossibility. Coupled with the fact that his emotions were forcing in distracting and tactically risky thoughts like trips to the hospital, appealing to law enforcement for help and turning his wife over to them, clouded his judgment. For the second time in recent memory, he felt panicked and indecisive. The feeling was horrifying to someone that normally spent their lives making black and white decisions. It was a moment of agonizing weakness, and he wasn't sure what to do.

Before he realized it, the chatter of submachine gun fire pierced the air. The sound of the rounds imbedding themselves in the body of their car echoed in his ears. He juked the sedan into the oncoming lane to shake them. His pursuer must have taken a cross street to intercept them once they freed their vehicle. He cursed himself for making such a stupid mistake as to continue driving along the same predictable route. The Monitor's sedan had caught up with them and was pouring fire at their vehicle. Cain frantically glanced behind them and was able to make out the pursuing sedan was only a few car lengths away from them. He was able look directly into the car's interior and could make out the driver well enough but had trouble ascertaining whether the Monitor was still in the car. He realized that if the smarmy agent was no longer present in the vehicle, then wherever he was, he was most likely constantly feeding information not only to the police, but to other Triumvirate about their location and movements.

"Raylene! Get as close to the front of the car as you can," he shouted back at his wife.

Running on a slimly formulated plan of action, he knew the first step would be to disable his immediate pursuers and determine the Monitor's position. He brought his foot down hard on the brake pedal and the car screeching to an abrupt halt right in front of the speeding black car. He steeled himself for impact, hoping that his plan would work.

Unable to stop, the Triumvirate driver barreled into the back of Cain's silver sedan. The momentum and frame of his car was so powerful that the wide-bodied luxury car pitched the smaller sedan's rear bumper into the air while its nose dipped low from the driver's attempt to brake. It served as a wedge, heaving the silver car up and over the black car's hood. The impact jarred the occupants of both cars. Screeching metal and shards of automobile parts, glass and spurts of various fluids shot free from the impact. Cain felt the sickening motion in the pit of his stomach as his car was shot into the air from behind, slowly pitching to the left and landing on its side. The car crumbled under its own weight as its full mass came down on the driver's side.

"We have to get her to a hospital Cain, she's... She's losing a lot of blood. I don't' think I can stop the bleeding," she said in a surprisingly even tone.

Cain responded coldly, despite the dire report from his wife.

"Are you hit?"

"What," she began, but Cain interrupted.

"Hurt, are you hurt at all, have you been shot?"

He was already in motion, not waiting for an answer as his sublimated killer instinct asserted itself. He realized that time was of the essence. His enemy was wounded but a wounded enemy was extremely dangerous and tenacious. Shaking off the dizziness from the accident, he forced open the bent frame of the door of the sedan, barely registering the gravelly and crunchy sound of his boots on the glass pebbles layering the accident scene. He deftly approached the black sedan and moved quickly to the driver's side. Slowing as he approached, Cain placed his hand on the hilt of his blade, preparing to draw his ceremonial sword, strangely now in his own service instead of at the behest of his masters.

His caution and instincts proved prudent as he found the driver was no longer trapped in the driver's seat. His eyes followed the trail of blood from the black sedan to the side of the road as he heard the click of a shot chambering. In a swift motion, he vaulted himself behind the hulk of the dead automobile as a spray of handgun fire attempted to cut him down. Characterizing the fire as erratic and desperate, he concluded the driver must have incurred significant injuries to waste handgun fire on a suppression tactic. Cain waited for the telltale sign that the man was changing his magazine. To his trained ears, the scraping of the clip's metal against the handle of the pistol was a shrill siren indicating to him that it was time to attack. Cain athletically vaulted the car and swiftly covered the distance between his sheltered position and his assailant. Landing deftly in front of the man, Cain swiftly ended his life with an eviscerating single stroke of his blade.

Assured in his death, and deriving an unusual satisfaction in taking his life, Cain approached the black sedan. Hours ago, it whisked him to do the Triumvirate's bidding. Now, a short time later, events beyond his control had conspired to force him to turn his back on everything he knew for the only thing that really mattered to him. He knew that he would have to kill the Monitor and attempt to find out what exactly the repercussions of his actions were.

The Monitor undoubtedly would have already reported his betrayal to the Triumvirate. Confirming the absence of the Monitor in the passenger compartment of the car, he tragically surmised that the Triumvirate's price for betrayal and disobedience would be swift, hard and fast. Not only would they attempt to wipe him out entirely as if he never existed, but they would also assuredly kill his loved ones. Recalling his conditioning, Triumvirate Swords were indoctrinated from their youth that attachments and relationships to others bred weakness and infirmity in the will to carry out their assignments. Family members, loved ones and acquaintances could be used as leverage against them. Looking over at the crumpled form of the car where his wife now lay, he thoroughly understood the reality and logic behind this mandate.

Cain bent low with his sword still drawn. Red streamers of blood trickled down the flat blade onto the concrete as he inspected the interior of the sedan. Spotting the Monitor's slate computer, he realized that the man had arranged for pickup prior to sending this car after him. As Cain reached for the device, he paused, sensing that the balance of his surroundings had changed. Hesitating for a split second, he tried to reach out with his awareness.

From a young age, Triumvirate Swords learn to control their awareness and extend the natural human perception of environment in ways that other martial arts and combat experts were not even aware of. Based on his training, Cain perceived his surroundings as a fluid environment in an almost liquid state. Just as with a pool of water, each person's actions and reactions caused eddies and disturbances in which could be interpreted as currents. While the currents were aftereffects of the motion, the perception allowed Swords to be aware of an individual's motion without relying on just one or two rudimentary senses. Presence, intent, motion and action could all be discerned without having to visibly see an opponent.

Utilizing this hidden skill, Cain felt the presence of someone powerful. While it was near impossible for anyone to approach him unnoticed, he nevertheless registered a silent form now stealthily positioning itself directly behind him. Unsettled more than fearful, Cain was still confident in his abilities as a combatant. Lashing out with an anger and rage that was normally absent from his usual controlled and measured attack patterns, the Sword of Cain whistled through empty space. Still crouching, Cain brought his blade up into a defensive position as he slowly stood. Glancing down the street back towards the silver sedan, he could see that his wife had now crawled from the wreckage of her car, spotting him immediately. Staggering before the backdrop of a pitch-black collection of wooded trees along the side of the street, she began to call Cain's name, but froze as if she saw something he couldn't. It was there again, like a splinter in his perception, almost a dead spot in his field of awareness. While he couldn't fully track its movements, he now knew it had changed positions and the person was behind him again, watching and studying him and his interaction with his wife.

Suddenly and without warning, his wife was interrupted mid-scream as she tried to blurt a warning.

"Cain, look out, there's someone-"

A gloved hand clapped over her mouth as it seemed the shadows themselves somehow moved to silence her. While he had been affected by the crash to a degree, he believed his senses and abilities had recovered to a point of capability that he should have sensed the approach of anyone this close. His wife was violently pulled, her screaming muffled as he now sensed motion behind him. Refusing to cry out, he instantly began to charge to her rescue until his own senses compelled him to stop short in the face of a grave threat. The cool air stung his lungs as the muffled screaming of his wife either stopped unexpectedly or got so far away that he could no longer hear them. The only thing preventing him from charging after her was the threat he registered as he realized his observer was no longer making an effort to hide himself. He knew that their hope likely was that he would blindly chase his wife and her abductor, thereby giving his pursuers a modicum of control over the situation to trap him as they saw fit. He turned now, slowly, not caring who or what he faced. Bottling and controlling his anger and determination, he took full stock of the mysteriously dark figure in front of him now. Encircling each other, the man positioned himself directly in front of the direction that his wife had abducted.

Ensconced in shadows created between orange cones of the overhead streetlights Cain could barely make out the details of the man's attire. He thought he spotted a sort of monotone gray and black body suit adorned with various hard point equipment harnesses. Most remarkable was the fact that his attire fused seamlessly into an ominously inexplicable mask which covered his head and obscured his face. The two continued to stalk each other like jungle predators. With each movement Cain could make out more details of the enemy's strange attire. His adversary wore goggles which reflected the eerie streetlight like orange saucers affixed to his head. They stood, evaluating each other, searching for different points of weakness and strength. Surprisingly enough, Cain found that the man's defenses were more than adequate. As he used his trained ability to assess an opponent, he reached deeper into the man, using observed subtleties in his movement, balance and breathing as queues to provide him with vital information. He found a much more complex adversary than he originally anticipated.

A stiff wind whipped between them, fluttering Cain's drab overcoat, revealing his sword which he had deftly palmed for an opening killing stroke. The mysterious ebony figure moved like lightning. Seemingly using the wind as a catalyst, he followed the gust directly towards Cain. In disbelief, he had no other recourse but to take a halting step backwards. His plan had been so swiftly interrupted that he had no choice but to immediately assume a defensive posture.

The man's speed was unparalleled as he unleashed a flurry of simple physical attacks against Cain. Able to block and stunt the attacks with his forearms, Cain waited for an opening to bring his sword through the man's defense. He continued to take a retreating path from the accident scene. With his muscles and bones aching from his savage battle with the other Swords at the restaurant, he found that he was unable to keep up with the man's speed. Cain exhaled sharply as the first of many blows began to penetrate his defenses. Efforts to put distance between them failed as he realized he was too drained to conduct any more acrobatics to vault himself away from his enemy. For the first time, he found himself fighting without any immediate plans for overcoming his foe or defense. Each counter he threw, each combination and pattern he used was summarily anticipated, blocked and returned. The Sword of Cain clattered to the pavement as the man now landed open palm strikes against Cain's limbs and joints. He simply could not gain an opening or upper hand, and he was losing strength and energy quickly.

His only remaining tactic was to place all he had into a single attack. One so powerful that even if the man was able to defend against it, the blow would at least buy him some time to recover. Turning the tables, Cain launched himself in towards his mysteriously powerful enemy, going low to pierce his defensive perimeter and allow him to deliver his assault. Opening his fists, he attempted to use the edges of his fingers like rigid daggers. The first strike in his combination hit and allowed him to solidly cut into the man's gut in an attempt to wind him while he continued with his other hand to slam an open palm into his exposed throat. His goal was to crush his larynx, robbing the man of the ability to catch his breath. This would give Cain the opportunity to overpower and slaughter the man like he deserved. Cain continued with his attack assured in his strategy.

However, his fist sailed through empty air as the man, with a minimum flourish of motion, twisted his shoulder back, dropping his head and neck out of Cain's reach. Seemingly unimpacted by a blow that would cripple most, the shadowy figure continued his motion, disengaging from Cain, spinning. He used his momentum to bring his elbow under Cain's jaw, followed by his other fist. The jolt almost immediately jarred Cain into unconsciousness. He never felt the second blow as he was lifted from his feet by the sheer force of the attack. He realized his gamble had failed as his vision slipped from him and darkness fell.

The ebony man stood, hovering over his victim to ensure that he was in fact down for good. He was intent on discerning any sign of motion to indicate that Cain was bluffing. As time passed and he realized that Cain was not going to rise again, he was oddly perplexed why he was clutching a painful burning sensation in his side and why he was breathing so heavily. Sharp piercing pain emanated from his side where Cain struck and increased along with his labored respiration. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head low as the pain increased unexpectedly. A disembodied voice rang out over the communications array imbedded within his mask.

"Are you alright?"

The voice cut through the pain-induced haze he was experiencing. He did not answer. As if in expectation of his silence, the voice continued.

"Well, this is quite unusual, don't you think? However did you let him get through your defenses," the voice questioned but after a quick pause of silence continued.

"The violent bastard managed to kill two of his own kind. No matter now I suppose," the voice pontificated and then turned cold.

"Code 616. Return with him and the woman. Dispose of the other one."

The masked man slowly rose, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side as behavioral programming asserted itself on a level that he was unaware of. He carried out the command without question or even a rudimentary awareness of purpose.