S3, 04 Twix (FB) (May 10, 2016)

Corresponding text underneath each picture.

**4th April 2096: Present Day**

I was sat, slumped up against the cold wall of our tiny, draughty cell. Tracks was pacing at the opposite side, close to the door and Bowen, who it turned out was one of a set of identical twins, was sitting, propped up in the corner nearby.

We’d not been in here long. Less than an hour. After Amando had been thrown in here with us, his twin brother, the one who owned this facility, had done a little boasting and then left us here alone. Now I knew that Amando hadn’t double crossed me as I thought he had, I had helped him to get comfortable, but since then, nobody had said anything, so when Amando’s bruised-sounding voice came from the corner, I was quite surprised.

Amando: “Your questions. What were they?” he wheezed, his head lolling in the corner, his eyes closed.

Tank: “Huh?” With everything that had happened, I’d momentarily forgotten why I’d come here in the first place. “Oh! I came here looking for information. About a man called Zeth Stripe. Have you heard of him?”

Amando: “Can’t say I have.”

Tank: “No.” I confirmed, more to myself than him. “I was told to speak to ‘A. Bowen’, who runs this drugs factory. I suppose that’s your brother, isn’t it?”
Amando nodded.

Tank: “So you both have names starting with ‘A’?”
Amando again nodded.

Amando: “My brother is Armitage Bowen.”

I rolled my eyes.

Tank: “Figures.”

Tank: “I don’t suppose your brother is going to be up for a chat, is he?” I asked, rhetorically, but Amando shook his head anyway.

I *HAD* to get those answers from him though! If he knew Zeth, there was no way I was going to let him get away! I couldn’t lose this lead! It had taken so many months of searching, I wasn’t going to lose it now!

But at the moment, I was in no position of power at all.

Wait! That was it! Power!

The guards had taken my weapons, but nothing else! I yanked open my belt pouch and pulled out my comlink. I didn’t have the number for the authorities on Rerador, but I knew somebody who did.

Judas: “Hey Tank, what’s up?”

Tank: “Hey!” I replied in a hushed tone, in case there were any guards outside the door. “I’m in trouble, I need help!”

Judas: “What’s going on?”

Tank: “I’m on Rerador. A drug lord has me held captive and I have no way out. I need you to send the authorities to my co-ordinates!”

Judas: “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

Tank: “Thanks!”

I ended the link, but as I did so Amando started muttering in the corner.

Amando: “No, no, no!”

Tank: “What’s the matter?”

Amando: “The bombs. We’ll be long dead by the time anybody gets here.”

Tank: “What do you mean? Those men aren’t going to press the detonator on the bombs in their own factory, are they!”

Amando: “There is no detonator! They’re timed explosives!”

Tank: “WHAT?!” I asked, shocked. “Why the hell didn’t you say so before?”

Amando: “I have made my peace. I am going to die one way or another.”

Tank: “What, and you were just going to sit there and let me and Tracks get blown up too?!” I shouted as I leapt to my feet, but he didn’t seem phased. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

Amando: “Even if you somehow get out of this room, there are still the guards to get passed.”

Tank: “Tracks and I have been through worse. Tracks, get ready to shoot down the door.” I told him and he whirred an affirmative.

Amando: “You may try and I wish you luck.”

Tank: “How long have the bombs got left?”
Amando checked his wrist-watch.

Amando: “Approximately ten minutes.”

Tank: “SERIOUSLY?!” I shouted, angry that he’d left it so late before saying anything. “Okay, Tracks. Hit it!” I commanded and my robotic buddy’s shoulder minigun popped out and started shredding the area of the door where the lock mechanism would be. He turned it on the hinges and just a few seconds later, the whole thing went tumbling down into the corridor.

There were no guards waiting for us, but we could hear raised voices and footsteps. They’d clearly heard the shooting and were on their way. I just hoped we could get out of here in time.

I was about to set off, but paused in the doorway.

Tank: “Oh…. Scrim…” I cursed quietly. Tracks whirred questioningly. “We can’t leave yet. We have to find the other Bowen. I need to find out what he knows about Zeth.” Tracks screeched at me. “I know, I know! But he’s my only lead!”

Amando: “Please. Do not save my brother.” Amando pleaded. “He deserves to burn. Along with his beloved factory.”

Tank: “Why do you want to blow it up so badly?” I had to ask.

Amando: “We have never gotten on, my brother and I. He has always picked on me. He went down a dark path. One that led him here – to making and selling his own drugs. Drugs that make even more misery and dark paths for other innocent people to stumble down. It needs to be stopped. Please. Do *not* rescue him.” He repeated.

I thought about it for a split second. I hated to go against a dying man’s last wish, but I needed that man alive.

Tank: “I’m sorry.” I told him honestly. “Tracks, take point.” I commanded and with that, we set off, back into the facility.

We’d only gotten a few rooms along before we encountered some resistance. Two thugs arrived in a doorway ahead of us and started firing on us. I dived for cover behind a cabinet while Tracks instantly mowed one down with his minigun.

Tank: “Leave him alive!” I shouted to him and his let off another round into the second thug’s leg. He cried out and toppled to the floor.

Knowing time was short I sprinted over to him and picked up his pistol.

Tank: “Where’s your boss?” I demanded, aiming his own gun at his face.

He whimpered but remained dumb.
I didn’t like violence, but I knew I was running out of time and I needed answers. I shot him in the foot. He screamed.

Tank: “WHERE IS YOUR BOSS?!” I shouted again and this time he pointed to a closed door on the other side of the room.

Tank: “Tracks.” I nodded with my head and we jogged over to the door the thug had indicated. I nodded my readiness to Tracks who then, in one powerful move, kicked down the door.

Together, we burst through, guns poised, ready to fire.

Inside we found ourselves in a small office that had clearly been built for the factory foreman back in it’s day. Now, Bowen sat at the desk and a handful of thugs stood guard.

They all began firing the second the door crashed down, but Track’s made light work of three very quickly. I dispatched another two in quick succession, leaving only one more to guard Bowen.

I used a filing cabinet for cover and took a couple of pot shots around the corner. On the third, I heard a cry and Tracks leapt from where he’d been crouching and a short burst from his minigun finished the thug off.

Tracks surveyed the scene and then nodded to me that the coast was clear.

I got up and trained my stolen gun on Bowen, who was sat, hands up, in his desk chair.

Tank: “Zeth Stripe!” I demanded. “What do you know about him!”

Bowen: “Who?” he asked, looking scared, but it was only an act. His hand flew to his lap and he brought up a pistol that looked awfully familiar – it was mine!

But he was too slow. Tracks fired a single round into his arm and sent the gun clattering away. I leapt towards him and whacked him in the face with the butt of my gun.

Tank: “STRIPE!” I bellowed, knowing how short on time we were. “Where is he?!” I shouted, the barrel of my gun centimetres away from his face. However, Tracks whirred urgently and I knew we had to go.

Tank: “Get up!” I shouted as he clutched his arm. “GET UP! You’re coming with us!” Tracks helped haul him to his feet while I quickly bent down and snatched up my pistol. Only the one of it though. As Tracks started shoving him towards the door, I took a quick glance under the desk to where he’d pulled this pistol and thankfully, there was my second one. I grabbed it and followed Tracks back through the doorway.

Tank: “Come on, move it!” I shouted as Tracks gave Bowen another shove to keep him moving.

Bowen: “Okay, okay!” he grunted, clutching his wounded arm.

We ushered the drug maker back through his own factory and along the way I caught glimpses of some of the bombs I had set earlier. Clearly the thugs hadn’t been smart enough to figure out what we’d been doing.

I hadn’t got a clue how long we had left, however, that question was answered when we reached the room in which Tracks and I had first met Amando.

We were halfway across the room, and could see the outside world through the door at the end of the corridor, when the ground shook and we heard the first detonations.

Tank: “Shit!” I cursed and we began to sprint.

Bowen: “What was tha…?”

His question was cut off as fire burst into the room behind us and heat scorched our backs.

The three of us screamed as we ran as fast as we could for the door. Fresh air rushed to greet us as we leapt through the open doorway and carried on as far away from the building as we could get. We stopped when we reached the Viper and turned to look back at the building that was now just a flaming shell.

Panting, I leant on my ship to get my breath back and Bowen fell to his knees, coughing from breathing in the smoke. Only Tracks, being mechanical, was unaffected.

Bowen: “You bastard!” he screamed suddenly and launched himself at me. He slammed me up against the Viper and was about to him me but Tracks yanked him away and he landed hard on the rocky ground.

Bowen: “The drugs!” he cried from the floor, as Tracks stood watch over him.

Tank: “All gone!” I confirmed and just then we heard the first wailing sirens of approaching emergency services. “Good timing…” I muttered, ignoring Bowen’s cries of anger.

Bowen: “Wait, where is my brother?” he asked and for the first time since getting outside, I remembered that Amando had still been in there.

Tank: “I’m sorry. He didn’t make it.” I told him.

Bowen: “What? No!”

Tank: “But it’s your fault. Your men beat him so badly he could barely move! He would never have made it out even if he’d tried!” I heard myself saying the words, but couldn’t help thinking that I was justifying it to myself, more than to him.

Bowen: “NO!” he screamed, actual tears on his face. “You bastard! You bastard!” he kept yelling at me, but his shouts began to fade away as he became overcome with exhaustion and just sat there sobbing.

The emergency craft touched down nearby and I waved to them to get their attention. They saw me and started to head over.

There were only three policemen and as they got closer to us, I heard one speaking into a comlink calling for fire teams to assist ASAP.

Tank: “Thank you!” I greeted as they reached us. “This man ran the drugs lab here, but I need to take him to…”

Policeman: “You have the right to remain silent.” He started, interrupting me. But he wasn’t speaking to Bowen, as I’d expected. Instead he was addressing me. “Please turn around slowly and put your hands behind your head.”

Tank: “What?!” I asked incredulously. Even Tracks whirred in confusion. “Seriously?!”

Behind the officer attempting to arrest me, I saw another put a set of binders on Bowen and realised that we must all be getting arrested.

Tank: “Look, there’s been a mistake.”

Policeman: “I’m sure there has, but I don’t want to hear about it. Now turn around, or get put down!” he said firmly.

I groaned and did as I was told.

Tank: “I don’t believe this!” I muttered as I was read my rights and had my hands placed in binders.

**Elsewhere…**

Jaws pushed on each of the heavy, metal doors and they swung shut, sealing up the prisoner transport truck and locking inside two more escaped convicts who had been on the run since the Shift.

He turned back to where Hammerstrike was in the middle of a conversation with Ranger and moved over to them. A few feet away, Darkblade was silently reading through some notes on a datapad.

Hammerstrike: “…but did you see the look on his face?!” he laughed and Ranger smirked in return.

Ranger: “I did.” He confirmed. “Wasn’t as good as when I just appeared behind him though.”

The pair’s laughter was interrupted by Wolfhide arriving. He glided in on his wing pack and touched down a few meters off. As he made his way over to the group, his mechanical wings folded in on themselves and retreated into his backpack.

Ranger: “Those never get old.” He commented, jealously. “Sure I can’t have a go?”

Wolfhide: “No.” he put bluntly.

Ranger: “Pleeeeease?” he begged, half-jokingly. He’d asked numerous times before and knew it pissed the older man off.

Wolfhide: “Save it.” He snarled. “What’s next?”

At that point, Darkblade made his way over and joined them, still looking at his pad.

Darkblade: “Our next target is back on Qoter.” He announced, finally looking up.

Wolfhide: “Name?”

Darkblade: “Samuel Rostenkowski. He was spotted the other day at Antillio Spaceport.”

Ranger: “What was he in for?” he asked, referring to the crime that he’d been put in jail for in the first place.

Darkblade: “Fraud. No biggie, but it’s another ticked off the list.”

Wolfhide: “Yeah, about this list of yours…” he began and Ranger rolled his eyes. Wolfhide and Darkblade didn’t exactly get on very well and it was pretty obvious to everyone, even Colonel Ramson back at base, that Wolfhide felt he should be squad leader.

Wolfhide: “Exactly how many people are on it? If we’re meant to be working time off our sentence… I mean, there’s gonna have to be a lot of names on there for me to work any decent amount of time off mine!”

Darkblade: “Plenty.” He replied simply and in an even tone.

Wolfhide: “Give me that ‘pad!” he demanded and moved on Darkblade. He tried grabbing the datapad from his hands but Darkblade was too quick and blocked him. Wolfhide gave the squad leader a shove, but he struck out and easily knocked Wolfhide backwards.

But while he was distracted by Wolfhide’s attack, Hammerstrike nimbly snatched the list from Darkblade.

Darkblade: “Hey!” he shouted but Hammerstrike had skittered away to the other side of the group and was already skim reading through the list.

Hammerstrike: “Wow. He ain’t kiddin’! There’s loads’a names on here!” he confirmed.

Wolfhide: “Give me that.” He demanded, snatching it in turn away from Hammerstrike and began to read.

Darkblade stood in silent anger, watching on, but decided not to do anything.

Wolfhide continued reading for a few moments but then his eyes widened.

Wolfhide: “Oh-ho! Rockwell!” he snarled, seeing Tank’s name on the list. “Mr. Goody-two-shoes is an escaped convict! And living under a false name!” he grinned menacingly.

Being a list of prisoners who escaped during the Shift, Tank was listed as Frank Foster. However, as the Imperium had had dealings with him since then and knew him also as Chain Rockwell, both names were down on the list.

Wolfhide: “Well, Mr. Foster. We’re coming for you and when we do, I’ve got a score to settle with you.” He snarled, and absent-mindedly put a hand to his golden eye-patch.

Darkblade: “Yeah?” he growled, snatching back the datapad. “Well get in line. Rockwell’s mine…”

**BONUS PICTURES**

The basic set for the cell.

The set for the run-in.

An alternative image for them running from the explosion.

The set for the Beta Squad scene.

As my series is going to be jumping around though time, I will include a date on each episode and add it to the timeline at the end of each episode so that you can follow it.

TIMELINE