Crossing Lines

An impending death sentence was a hell of a thing, especially when the prospect of a healing leg was likely to take longer than the amount of time left to live. But even that didn't stop Pops from putting his best foot forward. More so, he didn't want anyone else to have to suffer for his sake. He didn't know how he'd break the news; but he knew he'd have to eventually.

For now, he did exactly what he'd intended to do all along. Following his release from Vik's clinic after three days of careful observation and checkups, he gathered the crew together at the lockup, including V, and made it official; his time as the crew's leader, and as a merc altogether, had come to an end. He had a life worth living, and he intended on seeing that through, although what he didn't tell them was how little time he would have to accomplish it. He encouraged all of them to do the same; to plan on getting away from the merc life. He had watched too many of his friends die in this line of work, and he'd be damned if he managed to outlive anyone of his crew. He loved all of them like his own family.

So, as it goes, Phoenix Gray resigned himself to a quieter life and learning to live with a cane, having passed the mantle to Miz; Liv of course was a saint about the whole affair, just happy to finally have her cowboy all to herself, for what time they had left together. But like all things in Night City, nothing good is meant to last...

--

[Two months later - Mallagra & Manzanita, Rancho Coronado]

Bodies in black poured silently through the streets around the house, filling in the gaps and positioning themselves accordingly. Their steps were light as feathers, almost inaudible, and they moved with a regimented discipline against the dead of night. Save for the ambient noise from the adjacent highway, it was silent all around, but the unwanted guests were even quieter somehow...

Inside the house, Pops rested on his back on the bed with Liv fast asleep next to him. It was an adjustment trying to break the habit of wrapping herself around him at night for fear of exacerbating his leg as it tried to heal. He wouldn't have cared, really, seeing as the leg was the least of his worries, all things considered. If he had his choice, he'd rather go out in a fight than force others to watch him waste away. There was no sense in it, but this was the hand he'd been dealt.

Pops stirred to the sound of something outside; something unfamiliar. His eyes were alert and aware, cutting from side to side as he remained quiet and still, his hand carefully reaching for his revolver on the bedside table. His ears perked to the sound of pins pulled and charging handles ejected as he rolled over to protect Liv.

Oh shit!

The sounds of breaking glass echoed from every window as several cylindrical objects were thrown into the room. Right before a blinding flash and a concussive blast, Pops heard the front door kicked in, heavy boots approaching. He wrapped a startled Liv tighter in his arms as he tried to shield her. The ringing in their ears was enough to drive anyone insane, but Pops was still able to find his bearings as he turned back over and sat up, revolver at the ready. As the door flew off the hinges from a handheld battering ram, Pops prayed this was it as he fired as many shots as he could before another flash-bang blinded him and knocked him back.

As he fought to recover once again, he could see the bodies in black pulling Liv from the bed, and he forced himself up, hobbling as he tried to intercept. He was in no condition to fight, but that didn't stop him from trying before a barrage of rifle stocks assaulted his face and body. He was quickly overtaken and knocked to the ground; everything was a fuzzy blur, the pain from his leg clouding his judgment as his brain was fogged from strikes to his forehead and the base of his skull. He was fumbling on the floor, bleeding and drooling as he tried to pull himself together.

At last, he felt a hand grabbing his collar before a muffled voice called out, "Leave him! The woman's the objective! Let's fuckin' delta!"

He groaned and called for Liv as her screams pierced the veil of incapacitation. Before long, the pain in his leg consumed him and he passed out in a puddle of his own spit and blood mixed with dust and debris from the trashed room. As he lay limp and prostrate, his hand was still outstretched, reaching for Liv. But as quick as the bodies in black breached the home, they were already gone, disappearing into the night without a trace.

--

[Several hours later]

By now, the sun had risen over the east, blessing all of Rancho in its warmth. Dust still hung loose in the air of the invaded house. Pops was still out cold, but he could hear a rumbling of voices mixed with footsteps in the distant background. They were familiar, and yet felt so far away. He felt himself being pushed over onto his back before he came to, his eyes opening slowly. The first thing he saw was probably the most welcome sight he could have asked for in these circumstances.

Billy and Miz were kneeling down on either side, looking down at him with concerned eyes. He could feel Miz's hand stroking through his hair as she silently thanked... someone... that he was still alive. Billy's face was hardened, and Pops already knew why, but that didn't stop the pup from giving a slight smile as he said, "You're okay... we're here now..."

They both helped him sit up as he found his strength and braced himself on his elbows as he surveyed the house. In the hallway, Max and Ky both were standing guard, weapons drawn, but they both had looks of relief as they locked eyes with their former fearless leader. Ky hadn't quite looked the same since that fateful talk with Vik, and every time they were around one another, he could feel his younger fly-boy friend bursting at the seams. But still, Pops had to give credit where it was due; Ky had honored the old man's request, and kept his mouth shut thus far about all of it. Pops knew it pained Ky to hide something that big from the only family he had left, and he respected the man more for it.

He shook his head, trying to break the last bits of the fog in his brain before Billy snapped him back to the present, "Pops... w-what happened?"

Pops took his time, trying to find his words with a low groan. The words were right there, he just couldn't force them out of his mouth, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it all. Liv was a civilian; so this had to be something to do with him. This was personal. As personal as Joe Miller's execution, this was intended to cause pain and wreak havoc. The anger welled up inside before Pops tried to force himself to his feet. He was wide awake now, the fire of righteous fury raging in his eyes. He took one step forward before his leg gave out; luckily Billy was able to catch him, helping him stand up straight as Miz grabbed his cane and offered it.

The old dog hated being waited on like this; he didn't want to be coddled, even if they didn't see it that way. He grunted as he placed the cane forward in line with his damaged leg, leaning into it as he pressed forward with his healthy leg. Rinse and repeat, but not quite riding a bicycle, Pops made his way out of the room as he spoke gently, "Operators raided in the middle o' the night. They were quick, quiet, and clean. I-I tried to fight 'em, but they took me out pretty quick... I heard one of 'em say Liv was the target, to jus' leave me for the coyotes."

None of this was helping, and he could tell by the look in Billy's eyes as his own clouded over, "S-Son, I'm... I'm sorry... I-I tried to—"

"No. You didn't start this", Billy reassured the only father-figure he'd ever known, "But we're going to fucking finish it."

Ky stepped into the larger space as Pops crashed down into a chair. After a few seconds, he asked, "Did you see any markings or anything?"

Pops centered the cane between his legs as he exhaled deeply and leaned forward with a shake of his head, "No... I was tryin' to fight 'em, but it was dark, and three flash-bangs had my cage rattled more 'an a little..."

Nobody could blame him, he looked like hell itself had worked him over, a trickle of dried blood running down the side of his face from the gash in his forehead. After several more seconds, he looked up to all the crew as he asked, "H-How did yo—"

Miz knelt down in front of him as she placed her hands on his, "Afterlife. V wouldn't say any more, but told us to come find you first, and then get there as soon as possible."

"Well, what're we waitin' for?!", Pops asked indignantly as he forced himself to his feet before his voice took on a resigned defeat, "...I-I might need a hand getting changed..."

Miz smirked as she placed a hand on Billy's chest before following Pops back into the room.

--

[One hour later - The Afterlife, South Watson]

There was no bounce in the crew's step today. There was nothing cool this time around about being called to the Afterlife. Miz had filled them in on the way over, but she'd never heard V sound so shaken up, even when half of her was blown up during the Lizzie's takeover. Something, or someone, had gotten to her, and the crew couldn't wait to find out what.

As Ky pulled into the parking lot from Palm View, their wish was granted in the form of three Militech-wrapped Chevillon SUVs with blacked-out windows parked neatly across the lot. Ky's hands instinctively wrapped tighter around the wheel as his jaw clenched. There were several heavily armed operators standing guard, one having stepped in the way of the crew's truck; his eyes flashed blue as he scanned back and forth before moving aside and waving them forward as he spoke to no one in particular, "Yeah, that's them... make sure they get through... solid copy."

They carefully navigated the lot, pulling to the opposite side of the three parked vehicles before stopping themselves. Ky killed the ignition, the vehicle falling silent as he looked to everyone. His face bore the same pained expression as it had for the last two months, and they were all starting to notice, although no one had made sense of it yet. After too long, he spoke, "No sudden moves... they hold all the cards."

All of the crew nodded in agreement as they piled out of the truck, one after the other. Much to Pops' chagrin and protest, Billy helped him out of the truck, making sure he was steady on the cane. There was nothing to laugh about here and now, but Miz had to smile nonetheless; Billy and Pops had grown even closer than before in the last two months. She knew something was up with her old man, but she couldn't place it. And if she were being perfectly honest, she was too afraid to ask at this point. But in his own words, he couldn't ever hide shit from her. All in time, she thought to herself.

The crew walked together, Pops forming up the center as he led them for what would likely be the last time. The anger driving him almost made his limp indistinguishable, but it still hurt like hell, and he'd still fall flat on his face without the cane. He was careful to navigate the steps leading down, having to fight off both Billy and Ky from trying to help. To nobody's surprise, Emmerick was absent from his usual post; instead, two Militech operators in body armor and sunglasses stood at the ready on either side of the doors with slung Ajax rifles lock and loaded. From the looks on their faces, they were almost begging for the crew to make a wrong move. One of the operators spoke into the air, "Yeah boss, they're here... all five of 'em... copy that."

The second operator motioned them forward as the first called out to them, "Took ya damn long enough... they're waitin' for ya."

The doors slid open, but there was no music trailing out to greet them. Instead, only a quiet rumbling of the still-operational cooling systems for the former morgue in the background. Claire was nowhere to be found, probably still asleep or otherwise at home. And then it hit all of them like a freight train. Standing by the bar next to a truly disgusted and despondent Living Legend was none other than Colonel Michael Farris, a shit-eating grin plastered on his rugged face. His legs looked stronger than anyone remembered, no doubt due to having cybernetic replacements implanted after V blew out both of his kneecaps in the Dogtown tunnels. His new suit was a masterful mix of military dress and corpo business styles, paying tribute to both his promotion within the ranks and within the company itself. Life had smiled on Farris, despite all his indiscretions.

In a split second, Ky had his Omaha tech pistol drawn as he charged forward. Thankfully, despite all his hardship, Pops had a cooler head, nearly clothes-lining Ky with a strong arm as he turned and locked eyes. He subtly shook his head, and Ky could already hear the old man's voice inside his head, Neither time nor place, son..., and he was right. Ky exhaled as he holstered the iron back inside his waistband and took a step back. Farris didn't miss the chance to press the crew's buttons as he chuckled, "Hopefully that'll be the last time a weapon is drawn during this friendly chat..."

Now it was almost Ky's turn to talk Pops off the ledge, the fire in his eyes building up as he stared Farris down. The look on V's face held no secrets, and she barked at Farris, "Say what you came to say, then get the fuck out of my house... dig?"

"As you wish...", Farris looked to his right before giving a subtle nod and turning back to the crew, "I trust you all remember our fateful first encounter in the Badlands? Well, whatever purpose was divined from all of that seems to have come to fruition..."

All of the crew rolled their eyes as they stood in begrudged anticipation while Farris put on his little performance, "The wild-men that you encountered... it will probably come as no surprise to you that they were all once NUSA contractors. And as such, we have a kept a close eye on their activities... well, unfortunately, the time has come to clean house for this dirty little secret."

Miz had enough as she stepped up and fired back, "So just turn the whole place into a fuckin' glass crater... it's what you do best anyway. Why's it got to involve us?"

It was a pertinent question, but Farris had a well-rehearsed answer, "I'm under strict orders to keep any ties to Militech out of the equation... everything must be off-books, and there's hardly anyone in the city as effective as yo—"

"Get. To. The fuckin'. Point", Pops interjected, his hand twitching for an excuse to grab his iron and blow a hole eight inches wide in their unwanted guest.

Farris shrugged his eyebrows and continued, "We have your woman. You have thirty-six hours to complete this job. Your fixer has the details. Is that plain enough for you, nomad?"

Pops' eyes narrowed as a drop of sweat rolled down the side of his head. Billy stepped up next, "Proof of life, first."

"As you wish", Farris answered with a chuckle as he swiped up from a handheld cyberdeck to the many large and mounted flatscreen panels. The speakers kicked in, assaulting them from all directions with the sounds of a middle-aged woman crying and pleading; before their eyes, the screens flashed on with Liv chained to a chair and blindfolded. Billy's rage consumed him as he pushed forward before Miz's hand caught him in the chest as she turned to him. He gritted his teeth as he tried to contain himself. Pops' head just sunk further, his entire body trembling.

Finally, the screens flashed off, the speakers dead once more. Farris' face bore a twisted smile as he gave the crew a wide berth on his way out the door, "I'll leave you to it, my little minions... and remember, thirty-five hours and... fifty-eight minutes."

In less than a minute, Farris and his goons were gone from the Afterlife, not a single trace left behind as the doors slid shut. The crew looked to V, but she couldn't look any of them in the eyes. Her jaw was clenched, and there were tears in her eyes; she was furious. They knew she wasn't to blame, but it didn't make her feel any less like shit that she had to be the one to brief them. In one swift movement, she released all of her pent-up rage as she screamed and ripped one of the bar stools from it's floor-mounted fixture, spinning around and throwing it so hard that it crashed through and lodged itself into the metal and ceramic wall. After too long of silence, she looked to the crew with shame written on her face as her voice broke, "...I-I'm s-sorry..."

Pops leaned against his cane as he stepped forward, his vacant arm outstretched. V fell into him as he closed the arm around her and said, "This isn't on you... and you know it."

She knew he was right, but it was her own problem to sort out. They had more pressing matters to see to. She pulled herself together and called out to the crew collectively, "You'll understand if we forgo the usual routine... we're on the clock here."

The crew all nodded and gathered around as V's eyes flashed blue toward each of them and she continued, "This is the dossier directly from Farris himself. It's fairly straightforward... your target's one hundred kilometers down the 101, give or take, outside of old Los Alamos. Area's pretty much a wasteland at this point, and has been since the Red... anyway, primary target's a large encampment of what Farris refers to as the 'wild-men'. They want the whole camp eradicated. Not a one left alive."

Miz was already itching for a fight as she chimed in, "Sounds easy enough... what's the catch?"

V smirked as she chided her choomba, "Maybe you're forgetting what happened the last time you faced off with these feral fuckers all by yourself...?"

She had a point, and Miz blushed and looked down as she continued, "To your point, the catch is that these 'psychos seem to be in possession of some type of compute core, and Militech wants it back."

Ky scoffed, adding his own insight, "They can't just level the place because of that, and as far removed from sanity as these assholes might be, it's still blue-on-blue if it comes down to a protracted ground skirmish."

"Now, maybe I'm missin' a piece o' the puzzle here...", Pops shifted his weight with a wince, "How's it happen that we find ourselves on the other side of the Border without a mess o' holes in us..."

"Panam says hi, by the way", V flashed her teeth, to which Pops shook his head in protest, "No... I won't let 'er get any of this on 'em..."

"Yeah, Panam thought you might say that...", V chuckled as she patted Pops on the shoulder, "So she countered with, 'outsiders don't get to say what I do with my people'... and then she apologized."

A smile crept in on Pops' face as he looked down, a flush in his cheeks; it was good to have friends.

"Now... Farris gave you what you needed to get the job done, and nothing more", V scoffed as her eyes flashed blue again, "I'm giving you what you need to actually understand and make it out of this thing alive... courtesy of our boy Blue."

As always, Mr. Blue Eyes was a wealth of information at the best of times. According to the intel extrapolated over however long a period of time since the crew first entered the Badlands south of the Border, what they were dealing with was mass cyberpsychosis in the truest sense of the term.

Among other things, Michael Farris was responsible for overseeing research and development into real-world applications for captive AIs; that is, rogue AIs captured from beyond the 'Wall. And the heart of these operations resided in none other than the Los Angeles Metroplex. That alone explained the frequent trips back and forth for which Farris became an eventual target; and what's more, these weren't official Militech projects... Farris was reporting directly to Rosalind Myers. Her ambitions knew no bounds, and she'd cross any line put before her to keep the edge on her opponents.

In the case of the encampment the crew was being sent to destroy, they were originally a Militech convoy tasked with transporting a computing core discovered under Dogtown's long-abandoned Project Cynosure from Night City to Los Angeles. The computing core contained a live adaptive AI, in that it could learn and evolve; some might posit that it could even reproduce. From what Blue and his friends in high places were able to gather, this AI broke its containment, breaching the minds of the task force escorting it, and driving them mad in the middle of the Badlands. However, instead of just frying their synapses and moving on, this particular AI fancied itself a deity of a sort, driving its victims into a frenzied zombie state and creating a cult-like tribe of devout followers.

These once-human creatures would roam the Badlands, attacking innocent travelers, nomad caravans, and corpo convoys all the same; the intel painted three distinct possibilities: you were either raped to death and then eaten, or you were sold into the Badlands trafficking trade, OR if you were strong enough, you were subjected to the AI until your mind broke and you became one of the tribe. Either way, as Panam had once cautioned, save the last bullet for yourself...

All of the crew had similar looks of disgust as they scanned over the intel; it wasn't anything new to them, as they'd already faced this particular group before. But knowing the full story from top to bottom, and knowing the NUSA's hand in all of it, was enough to drive anyone to want to drop a suitcase nuke in the middle of Corpo Plaza. Unfortunately, a long-since dead rockerboy, and largely unwanted former resident in V's head, held the trademark on that particular style of anti-corpo warfare.

V cut the crew a break as she joked, "Man, it's been a while since I made five chooms look like that all at once..."

Ky laughed as he quipped, "So after all of this, Farris is still doing Mommy Myers' bidding... still the good li'l lapdog?"

"And now they're looking to clean house", V continued with a nod, "Can't say I'm surprised. To Myers, people are tools... when they no longer server a purpose, she chucks 'em."

There wasn't anything else to really say on the current matter, but that didn't stop V from trying to give them all as much as she could, "Look, Panam's waiting for your call. Her people can be ready to move in as little as a few hours... but before you do anything..."

Everyone's eyes cut to V as she looked at Pops with a genuine worry, "...get your ass over to Vik and get that head wound looked at... please."

Pops nodded with a smile, "Thank you, V, for all you do... we'd be lost wit'out ya."

V gave another pat to his shoulder as she said firmly, "Thank me when you get back..."

--

[Fifteen minutes later - Vik's Clinic]

Stairs were apparently the order for the day, as Pops encountered his third flight on the way down from Urmland Street to clinic behind Misty's shop. As usual, she was an absolute angel, nothing less than a ray of sunshine. Vik on the other hand... suffice to say that Pops had seen entirely too much of him lately, and his 'ganic doctor friend, Doc Strong. Today, however, Strong was no where in sight, and no offense to him, but that was a minor miracle in Pops' mind. Both docs together were a force to be reckoned with, and he just didn't have the patience at the present moment.

Try as he might, though, he couldn't fault Vik's choom. Strong was an old boxer, and a trusted friend, and as far as Pops could tell, he was taking time away from his own merc crew in Dakota Smith's territory to check in and see to Pops' physical therapy personally. He had a good heart, and in the right place, and at the end of the day, Pops was glad to be in their care, even if he thought they were both wasting their time, all things considered.

Vik wasn't having it today either, as the first thing to pour out of him at the sight of Pops walking in with a busted-open forehead was, "Ah— God damnit, Phoenix!"

He crashed his tools down against a cleaned metal tray, letting his frustrations vent ever so slightly. Pops just stood in his doorway, leaning on the cane as he smirked, "Would ya love me if I was any other way, doc?"

"Siddown and tell me what the fuck happened...", Vik barked at the old man, thoroughly convinced this was some self-induced injury on account of him not following instructions. Pops stumbled his way over, taking a seat on a stool as his entire tone and mood shifted, "Militech raided the house last night... took Liv... holdin' her hostage."

Even behind the signature sunglasses, a blind man could see Vik's eyes opened wide in disbelief before he managed to muscle out, "I-I... Jesus, I'm sorry Phoenix."

Pops let go of a deep sigh as he leaned onto the table next to the stool, stroking his brow and careful to avoid the open wound, "Thanks, Vik... anyhow, V's threatenin' me under pain of unpleasantness to get my head situated before I go takin' care of business."

Vik chuckled as he went to work, inspecting the wound before reaching for a bottle of disinfectant; actually just rubbing alcohol, but it got the job done. He doused a large cotton ball held on the end of a pair of sponge forceps, instructing Pops to lean in as he adjusted a lamp went to work, cleaning the dried blood and dirt away from the open wound before he gave a brief warning. Using the untainted side of the cotton ball, he gently pressed in the gash, a dribble of the isopropyl pouring out and down Pops' face as he winced with one eye closed. That was the worst of it, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

As Vik grabbed for some surgical strips to hold the wound shut, he asked the pertinent question while motioning to Pops' chest, "Any movement on talking to... anyone... 'bout all this?"

"Miz knows something's up...", Pop smiled, "...but she won't ask me directly. I just can't make them suffer for my sake."

"You're a good man, Phoenix", Vik returned the smile, "But it's time you let someone else look after you. Don't let them miss out on saying something now they can't say later..."

Pops knew Vik was right, but he couldn't help himself, "Maybe... after this job, I'll sit 'em down and lay it all out."

Vik had a skeptical look on his face, "Got this itchy feeling that you don't plan on coming back, old timer..."

How does he always know?

Pops looked down at his own two feet before he brought his hand up on Vik's shoulder, "Thank you, old friend... for everything you've done for us..."

Vik tilted up Pops' head as he gently smoothed the adhesive strips with a sniffle and said, "It's been my pleasure, choom... w-we're all done here."

Pops squeezed gently before letting go as he stepped off the stool, "So... what do I owe ya...?"

"Get the fuck out of here...", Vik scoffed at the audacity as he pulled himself together, "...you can pay me when you get back."

That was about the answer Pops expected, and he nodded as he turned, dropping the cane with a crash as he waved and limped out the door. He left Vik alone in the clinic as the old 'doc sat down on the same stool and stretched out with a deep sigh...

God damnit, Phoenix... what're you playin' at?

--

[Thirty minutes later - Crew Lockup, Kennedy & Duzois]

Nobody was going to say anything for obvious reasons, but everyone gave each other significant glances at watching Pops try to navigate without a cane. He had a few near misses, but had mostly found his rhythm as he limped along, helping the crew check weapons and ready any equipment they'd need. Unfortunately, for a palms-up assault run like this, tac gear and body armor were the only practical choices, leaving Miz of all people feeling some kind of way as she fought to stay limber and flexible. She didn't like having her movement restricted, so she resorted to leaving off her vest for as long as she could.

Pops had snaked himself away from the rest to grab a smoke outside as he mulled over his choices for what was to come. It was getting harder to keep his head clear with an unbridled fury swarming his brain. His hands hadn't stopped shaking since they'd left Vik's, and he was even having trouble bringing a cigarette to his lips to take a drag. He was fighting to keep it together for the crew's sake, but everything together, all at once, had him overwhelmed in a way he'd never experienced.

And suddenly, like a heavy rain in a barren desert, all of his woes were washed away as Miz called out to him, "Talk to me Pops... please..."

He turned and found the light of his life staring up at him, her eyes clouded over with nothing but love and affection, and he opened his arms as she crashed into him and wrapped herself around him, "You haven't been the same since the MODUS job... and I c-can't take b-being left in the dark anymore... p-please tell me what's g-going on."

He could hear the pain in her breaking voice, and he held her close as he fought his own tears. He never wanted it to come to this, but he didn't have any other way out. In this singular moment, he found his strength as he whispered, "I-It's not just my leg... Ky found somethin' when he checked my bio-mons... and Vik confirmed it when I was gettin' fixed up."

He could feel Miz trembling as he continued, "I-I'm dyin', Em... lungs are shot."

There was an audible sniffle as she grabbed tighter, burying her face in his chest. He searched carefully for the words to keep going before she asked, "H-How long...?"

He admired her strength in facing it head on, though actually hearing himself say it out loud, the full weight of it all finally hit him as his voice broke, "S-Six months... maybe... I never wanted you or anyone else to have to shoulder this. I-It's my cross to bear."

Miz pulled away, her face hardened as she spoke through streaming tears, "N-Not your decision to m-make... I... G-God damnit!"

She fell into his arms again, venting her frustration through the sobs as she hit his chest with an open palm, "I-It wasn't s-supposed to b-be like this..."

Pops let his own tears fall as he took each hit in stride and held her as close as he could, "I-I know, Em... but we don't g-get to choose our t-time. W-When it's our time, i-it's our time..."

Miz finally wore herself out, her arms falling to her side as she continued to cry into his chest, "I-I love you..."

"I love you too, kiddo...", he whispered with a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, "These last nine years together... you've made me the proudest and happiest man alive... I-I couldn't ask for more."

Miz finally pulled away, looking her old man in the eye as she tried to sort it all out; you could almost hear the gears churning in her head before she put her hands up dismissively. She backed away before turning and rushing back inside, her entire body shaking as she blew past everyone in the main room and ran upstairs. It was only a few seconds before Pops heard the flick of a lighter as Billy joined him, lighting a fresh smoke, "It's bad, isn't it...? Whatever's been going on the past few months..."

Pops said nothing, but looked at the ground as he pulled Billy close with an arm around his shoulder, "Take care of her for me, pup... I couldn't ask for a better partner for her."

"Does Mom know...?", Billy asked, his voice faltering, to which Pops gave a deep sigh, "...she knows..."

Billy's bottom lip quivered before his composure broke, and he turned and embraced the only father he'd ever known. Pops gently rubbed his back as he looked past to Ky standing in the garage and wearing a sincere smile. Max showed up next to him, tears in her eyes as she tried to stand strong. As he and Pops locked eyes, the older merc nodded as if to say, "It's okay...", and Ky pulled Max aside and out of view.

Pops could hear their muffled voices conversing before Max cried out, her sobs echoing throughout the garage, followed by Ky's words of comfort. After a solid minute, Billy pulled away as he sniffed up hard and locked eyes. A half-smile crept in as he remembered what they were gearing up to do, and he asked, "One more for the road?"

His resilience caught Pops off-guard, prompting a chuckle as he nodded, "Yeah... let's go get our girl back..."

--