Good Cop...

Cooper recognized it and agreed. “A group of men with automatic rifles attacking a trailer park. The spin would be you don’t need that many automatic weapons for one man. Their intent was to enter the trailer park. But why would they do so?”

“They wanted the land for one of their underhanded projects,” Jackson added. Jackson had seen others use their Government position to turn things in the laws favor. If this meant his job, so be it. He had to answer to a young man’s mother and father.

Turning to Allison, Jackson asked, “Are you ready to play hardball?”

Several hours later...

Milo Castagnacci felt scared for the first time in his life. The moment his lawyer said that the case had been bumped up to a possible terrorist act his faith in jumping through a loophole in the justice system disappeared in an instant. Suddenly, his lawyer wasn't talking to him and then he was escorted to a new location that he had no idea was at.

All of this over one goddamn hitman.

He was now in an interrogation room of some sort. The one you'd see in a bad spy film when the good guy gets captured by the cat-stroking, bald, villain. Cliche, sure, but effective at intimidating Milo. He felt the cuffs on his wrist dig into his skin a little deeper and he winced.

"Look, I ain't no terrorist! Alright? This is a BIG misunderstanding. I'm just a businessman..." Milo stammered.

The one door in the room opened and he was surprised to see the Sheriff of Jackalope Crossing step inside. She wasn't wearing her typical uniform, instead she was sporting a sharp suit with pants. Very official-like, it screamed "fed."

"That why you were packing enough heat to start your own little war?" Allison asked in a dry tone.

"Shit, what the shit is this?" Milo asked, confused.

"Let's cut the crap, you're no more a 'businessman' than I am just a simple sheriff." Allison told him.

"You're a fed? Why are you looking after a dead end town if that's the case?" Milo asked.

"It's a front," Allison told him. "I work for the CIA, Castagnacci."

Milo's blood froze. "CIA??? Wait, wait, wait, I'm not some international terrorist here! I just run drugs and girls through Vegas! Small time stuff compared to what you try to catch!"

"Yet we caught you." Allison smirked. "Now you're going to answer for what you've done. But first, let me introduce you to my colleagues..."

The door opened again and in stepped Jackson and Coop.


“How many miners are we talking about?” Kelli asked. “Spirits are worse to deal with than aliens. You don’t always know they’re around.”

Hunter grinned. “And I suppose you knew right away that Carson was an alien?”

Kelli gave Hunter a look. He often got that look. She often got a look from him. The look usually meant, Wait til I get you alone!”

Hunter turned to Freddy, “It sounds like a job for our joint team. How do we stop them? Put the seal back together?”

The goon shook his head, "You can't just put it back together with putty, you idiots! I don't know how many miners were held back, but the way The Mayor kept talking about it, letting them out means major bad news for the town!"

"So then how do we stop them?" Freddy asked.

"You can't..." The goon said.

"Maybe Mayor Baker knows how?" Jessica proposed.

"It's already too late." The goon said. "The town is doomed!"

"Ain't the first time, slugger." Freddy said with a smirk as he brought his fist down on the goon, knocking him out cold. Freddy winced and nursed his throbbing hand. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to deck the thick-headed goon... "Alright, so we need to get back to town, asap." He looked to Jessica, who was still carrying her climbing equipment. "Let's tie this moron to his steering wheel and high-tail it back to Jackalope." He looked back at Hunter and Kelli. "Might want to call the others, let em know what's going down."

Almost instantly after Freddy said that, his phone rang. It was Gus. "Spider-sense tingling I imagine?" Freddy said with a smirk.

"Where are you guys?" Gus asked.

"At the mine your old buddy, Vargas, and his friends ditched that dead man's car a year back." Freddy said. "But right now I got to tell you, something big is..."

"Headed our way?" Gus finished. "I know, I can see it. You guys better get back to the town. I think we're in for a long night..."


"I need a crash cart in here!" Ira shouted as Simon went into convulsions. Some nurses and another doctor rushed into the room while the guard stepped back, overwhelmed by the chaos unfolding as the doctors worked like mad to keep their patient alive.

However, the heart monitor continued to drone on in that singular whine to let them know Simon's heart wasn't beating. Ira kicked a nearby chair in a fit of exaggerated anger.

"Time of death... 5:38 PM..." The other doctor declared. He looked to Ira. "What happened?"

"I don't know... He just..." Ira shook his head.

The cop stationed to guard the room looked in. "He dead?"

The doctor and nurses looked at the cop in silence. Ira slowly draped a sheet over Simon's body and sighed. "Looks like it. Let's get him down to the morgue, I want to do an autopsy and find out just what the hell happened."

It too an uncomfortable couple of minutes to get things squared away before Ira moved the body down to the morgue, but when he finally managed to get it down there he made sure no one was around when he produced a needle from his lab coat and injected it into Simon's heart.

There was a pause, then Simon shot up like someone had just goosed him.

"Fucking fuck! My chest feels like it got put through a goddamn dryer with a bunch of marbles!" Simon coughed and grasped at his chest. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

"You were given CPR and shocked several times," Ira said. "Had to look convincing."

"Fuck you, Ira." Simon wheezed. "My ribs are cracked."

"Yeah, I'll give you a shot of painkiller for that, you need to get moving. I've got a John Doe who doesn't look anywhere near you so the sooner you get out of dodge, the better. "Also got some clothes over there for you. Hope you like cats..."

Ira traded his hospital gown for the new set of clothes and looked to Ira. "Well, thanks. I guess..."

"What're you gonna do?" Ira asked.

"Maybe make my way south, lay low. I've got Castagnacci and now the law on my ass." Simon sighed. "Worst day ever..."

"Could be worse, you could be dead." Ira pointed out.

"Technically, I was." Simon tried chuckling but the pain in his ribs caused him to groan instead. "Shit. I could use some of that painkiller now..."

Ira gave him a shot and then handed him a bottle of pills. "For later. And keep your wound clean and change the bandages regularly."

"Alright, alright, mom." Simon rolled his eyes and took the pills from Ira.

"I trust you can get your own car from here? If I let you take mine it'd look bad." Ira pointed out.

"No problem." He sighed and thought for a moment. "Got a gun by any chance?"

"I figured you'd ask." Ira produced a Glock from beneath his coat and handed it to Ira. "Hopefully you won't need it."

"Thanks, doc. I owe ya one."

"We're even, as far as I'm concerned. Just get the hell out of here." Ira told him.

Moving was difficult with the hole in the leg, but not impossible. Moving fast was out of the question with the ribs, however. So Simon hobbled his way out of the back entrance to the hospital and down the street. He eventually found a old beater with no alarm parked in front of a dusty old house that he had no difficulty hot wiring. However, his destination wasn't for the interstate.

He was going to pay Leland Vaughan a visit...

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