Second Guessing

by Heather


Standish heard Nathan talking to someone and was thankful for the distraction. Using the wall as a guide he gamefully struggled to his feet. He stumbled the few feet into the master bedroom. With a heavy hand against the wall he staggered into the bathroom crossed the cold tile floor and hunched over the toilet. Ezra then proceeded to lose breakfast, McDonalds and an inordinate amount of Jack Daniels black labeled whiskey.

Nathan heard the noise changed direction and closed the master bedroom door while he listened to Josiah. Jackson headed back into the living room turning on some end table lamps.

Josiah sat in his living room occasionally getting up to look in on Tanner. The young Texan slept oblivious to the world. Sanchez figured he had better call Nathan and see how the Chemist was fairing with the southerner. Standish could be an obstinate handful when drunk. It would be good for Nathan to learn patience, Josiah thought. He just hoped Ezra survived the lesson.

When Nathan had first barked into the phone Josiah knew it was good that he had called. He really wanted to continue the discussion he had tried to start earlier in the office. Now as he listened to Jackson try and calm himself, Josiah figured this was not the opportune time to try. Standish was behaving true to form.

Instead of discussing the relevant subject Sanchez skirted the issue and brought up the new case that crossed their desks only this morning. He had noticed that Jackson had not read the portfolio. Normally by this time he would have not only read and reread it but started his own cross references and double checking details. The aggressive tenacity that the EMT attacked new cases was now grossly lacking. The fighting between Chris and Vin and the events of the other day had unnerved the man and shook the foundation he had created for himself.

Josiah wanted to reach out and help him. He wanted to help Nathan regain his lost confidence. Now was not the time. Sanchez read the signs and redirected the intentions of his phone call.

+ + + + + + +

Buck Wilmington sat at his desk ignoring the work that had to be done. Instead he shot crinkled balls of paper into the waste basket across the room. With only an hour left in the work day and more than half the team gone there seemed little sense in working. JD leafed through the packet of papers Chris had handed out this morning. Watching the youngest member of the team Buck knew JD was not as absorbed as he appeared.

"What ya thinking kid?" Buck asked. This would all work out in the end. Chris did not stay mad for long. He would tell you once how he felt, tell you once how you better shape up and then that was it. You either did as told or took your walking papers. Larabee held no punches and did not beat around any bushes. He ran a straight line. He expected no less of his team.

They were an undisciplined lot to the undiscerning eye but at closer examination one would see tight run ship. Everyone had their personal playing field and a certain room for individuality. There were boundaries set by Chris and enforced by Chris that no one dare cross.

You were afforded one mistake. You were given one reprieve. Ezra was living proof. He used his one Mulligan right away when he first joined the team. Larabee gave him his second chance forcing the others to do so grudgingly as well. Wilmington was glad they had, Ezra was an invaluable member of the team. Buck hoped Ezra would not receive his walking papers in the morning.

Tanner might have crossed the line he sure did tote it pretty close on this last bust. That was probably the reason for all the arguing. For two men who hardly spoke more than a sentence in a day those two had been spouting off like two old crones in a knitting circle.

"Nuthin'" JD answered tossing the plastic bound pages on the toy cluttered desk.

"Don't worry kid, this'll blow over by tomorrow afternoon." Buck said confidently

"Yeah it's tomorrow morning I'm worried about." JD confided.

Buck turned his attention back to the imaginary game of basket ball he played. The damn kid was more astute than Buck gave him credit for.

+ + + + + + +

Chris sat in his office. He angrily glared at his screen saver not seeing it at all. What the hell was Tanner thinking? Twice in less than one week the wiry self assured Texan blatantly disobeyed regulations. How could Chris over look that and expect to keep the respect of his team. How could he not punish Tanner and have it not look like favoritism. Vin had to be aware of the position he forced Chris into taking.

And Standish? The damn fool knew he had no more chances left and there he goes out in the middle of the work day and gets drunk. Hell he even dragged Vin down with him. What was wrong with that man? How could Larabee turn a blind eye to such an obvious show of indifference and a flagrant display of disrespect.

Larabee had to discipline his two men. Tanner deserved a formal reprimand and Standish should get his butt canned.

Chris twisted and turned the pencil in his hand not acknowledging his movements until the pencil snapped.

+ + + + + + +

Jackson shut off the small phone and clicked it closed. He replaced it in his coat pocket. The talk with Josiah had calmed his nerves. Thankfully the older man had the foresight not to bring up the conversation they had started earlier in the day.

Nathan leaned back in the Lazy boy overstuffed reclining chair and closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths and sighed. Ezra's words echoing around in his head, 'you've got everything.' What did he have? He nearly got himself and Vin killed because he messed up. 'so you're not perfect...' He had to be perfect he had to be sharper had to strive harder to be a better agent. He expected it of himself, demanded it actually. Chris and the others deserved at least that much of him.

Jackson sat silently in the chair with his eyes closed. He still wore his winter parka. Sweat dotted his forehead and ran in tiny rivulets between his shoulder blades. Nathan let out another annoyed sigh and sat up. He shucked out of the coat. Jackson tossed it onto the couch. He noticed no pictures or paintings adorned the walls. Standish had some strange personal phobia about creating a homey atmosphere.

Nathan slowly slid from the chair and stood taking in the room with a new examining eye.

Three years and still no personal effects dotted the place. The furnishings were comfortable and the place physically warm but nothing welcoming about it. Jackson slowly made his way over to the stack of boxes that graced the far corner of the room. A layer of dust proof to the fact their owner had never rummaged through them, at least not recently. The boxes remained unlabeled. The tape was aged and yellowed and no longer bound the tops securely closed. Nathan hovered a hand over one in indecision. This was a gross invasion of privacy. Still Jackson knew nothing of the man who just brutally judged and taunted him. Standish manage to hit very close to the truths and insecurities that haunted Jackson. The southerner apparently knew Jackson better than Nathan did himself. The thought riled the Chemist. Standish came across as so self indulged yet apparently he had observed or learned enough about the other man to strike at him verbally.

He had 'everything' indeed. What did Nathan Jackson have that Ezra could not attain with a simple overseas phone call?

He separated the cardboard flaps. Photographs thrown haphazardly into a box. Nathan grimaced to himself peaked over his shoulder in the direction of the master bedroom and then turned back to the box.

He lifted a small modestly framed photo of a young man. Standish obviously. The green eyes and clear features were indisputable. He appeared a teen with a shy smirk holding a diploma. Jackson could see sadness in the young eyes. Probably graduating from some fancy high dollar prep school. The foolish Southerner could have chosen any college in the country to attend. Nathan did not know from which college or university the southerner had attained his degree or what degree he held, if any. The next color chrome featured a younger version of Standish sitting against a rock, a snow covered mountain range behind him. Again the shy half smile seemed forced. Ezra almost did not make the picture. Nathan wondered what mountain range graced the background. And who had such terrible aim with a camera?

The third photo surprised Jackson, it featured only a floppy eared yellow lab with its pink tongue hanging out. The fourth photo held the same dog and a truly happily grinning very young Ezra who hugged the dog with exuberance. Jackson actually smiled. Whoever took the picture must have been unsteady or lost their balance because the subject matter was not close to being centered. In fact they nearly missed Ezra and the dog.

Then he noticed the black cord. The black line ran at the bottom of the photograph across the rich green grass. It stood out against the yellow lab's front leg and stopped in the small fisted hand. Jackson stared at the off balanced picture. Standish had taken the picture himself.

Curious Jackson reviewed the first few and came to the same conclusion. He rummaged through the all the photos. The ones that featured Standish held him alone except for the occasional same yellow lab when he was a very young boy. Some held strangers in the background and few actually had someone else taking the picture (the obvious obstructing finger in the lens being the clue).

Nathan stared at the ten or so framed photos he had dug out and stared at them. In the oldest ones the black cord was visible. The young boy did not seem self conscious that he faced the world alone. A childish tooth gapped grin highlighted by dimples obscured any hint of loneliness. The yellow lab apparently was his companion and friend. The older pictures where the teeth had become permanent and the genuine smile transformed into mocking smirk, a defiance raged in the light green eyes. No one stood by his side.

Jackson replaced the pictures lost in his musings. Ezra thought Nathan had everything. Jackson had to concede he had a father who had loved him dearly and friends who would have and did pose in pictures with him when he was a kid. Well at least when they could afford film.

Jackson stretched and arched his back groaning as it popped. It was getting dark. The Denver winter days lost their light early. It was only five PM and it was already pitch black. He had better check on Standish.

Nathan flipped on most of the apartment lights forcing back the soft encroaching shadows of evening. He noticed the dented plaster, the poor ill disguised body print left by Standish's back and head. The head dent was just about Nathan's eye level. He would have to repair the damage or at least split the cost. Nathan groaned when he noticed the second one this one much deeper than the first. He had inadvertantly found the wall stud, that might have hurt. The third indentation Standish's head managed to create a hole in the thin walls. He would have Josiah come over this weekend and help him repair it. Ezra was going to be angry about the damage, but if the damn man just kept his mouth shut.

Jackson closed his eyes and dropped his head. Maybe Standish had a point or so Nathan conceded. It could explain why he got infuriated so quickly. The more the EMT thought about it the more it rang true. He felt angry all over again. Nathan grunted dismissing the thoughts and opened the door to the master bedroom.

He was surprised Ezra had not made it to the double bed. He checked the bathroom, "Ahh Ezra." Jackson leaned against the door frame in dejected silence.

There passed out in a disheveled mass on the floor was Standish. The foul remnants of dry heaves puddled in front of his flushed face. His dark brown hair matted itself against his forehead and neck heavy with sweat.

"Come on Ezra git up." Jackson kicked his feet. He received a low groan in return. Well at least he was alive. Tomorrow he would wish he wasn't.

"Come on Ez, lets git ya into bed." Jackson took a small hand towel and wiped thick stringy spit that clung to the undercover agents mouth and then dropped it on the floor in front of his face, letting it absorb the mess there.

"Lets go Ezra" Jackson man handled the smaller man into a sitting position and then wrestled him to buckling legs. The Chemist half carried half dragged the groggy agent to the bed. He dropped his burden down and lifted the dangling legs fully onto the mattress. He removed the winter boots and tie unbuttoning the top button of the white shirt. Nathan stared at the undercover agent shaking his head. The man was so foolish sometimes. Jackson tossed a spare quilt over the top of him.

"Sleep tight Ezra." Jackson said. He watched Standish for a moment and then turned to start in on the mess in the bathroom. Maybe he would just stay in the spare bed room tonight.


Josiah woke to the sound of the shower. Vin. Sanchez checked his watch it was only 530am and still pitch black outside. The large man contemplated just rolling over and going back to sleep. He feared, however, Tanner might slip out the door and head back to Purgatorio. With a groan and rubbing impatiently at his face Josiah slid from the bed. At least Nathan would get to sleep into a decent hour.

Sanchez turned on the coffee pot and shuttered at the early morning chill. It was times like these he wished he had a self timer on his coffee machine. Josiah settled down in a chair and waited for Tanner.

Vin woke up in a strange room. The headache and turbulent churning of his stomach prevented him from being to concerned. After a few minutes he recognized the room as belonging to Josiah.

Tanner lay quietly for a moment trying to discern why he was at Sanchez's apartment. Nothing came to mind immediately and then small snippets began to reveal themselves. Arguing with Chris, Inez's saloon, Ezra and some whiskey, then things became a little fuzzy. McDonalds and a horse played a role, but Tanner could not quite put his finger on it. How did he end up here?

Vin's unease grew exponentially with his headache. What had he gone and done? The sharpshooter mused silently for a few more minutes trying to piece together the events of the other day. This was solving nothing. He decided to grab a shower here and then head back to his place. Vin gained his feet and suddenly realized he was still dressed in his cloths from yesterday. This was not good, not good at all. What did he do?

Josiah had heard the shower shut off waited a few minutes before getting up and pouring coffee into two mugs. Sanchez was thankful that Vin's apartment had no hot water at the moment or the sharpshooter would have slid out this morning without Josiah realizing it. Sanchez looked up when Tanner walked down the narrow hallway dressed and towel drying his long hair.

Without saying a word Josiah handed him hot mug of coffee. "You might not like it. Won't dissolve any silverware but it's hot," Sanchez intoned softly. Vin merely nodded his head accepting the warm mug.

"You want some eggs?" Sanchez asked. He would have to wait and gauge Tanner's demeanor before he tried to jar loose what was going on between he and Chris.

"Yeah," Tanner answered softly. Gawd he could not remember enough to know whether or not to be embarrassed over his actions yesterday. Sanchez seemed amicable enough. Vin had to concede that did not indicate anything. The anthropologist really never reacted to much, only an act of God or some major calamity seemed to upset the older man. Vin took this to mean that nothing was broke that could not be fixed, a good sign in and of itself.

Josiah watched the younger man for a brief second. He knew the signs of a hangover. The stooped posture, rolled shoulders and lack of movement clearly herald the agony the sharpshooter suffered silently through. Tanner had one whopper of a hangover.

"You need some help?" Tanner asked quietly. Gawd it hurt just to talk.

"Nope," Sanchez answered turning to the refrigerator grabbing a dozen eggs. He peered over his shoulder at Tanner, "Aspirin's on the second shelf in the bathroom."

Vin nodded his thanks and shuffled back toward the small oasis.

Twenty minutes later with eggs resting in a queasy stomach Tanner had to finally ask, "What happen'd?" Josiah up to this point had not elucidated as to the events that brought Vin to such a miserable state and so far from his home.

Josiah peered over his coffee mug smiling. It had taken only forty minutes for Vin's curiosity to get the better of him. Sanchez wondered how long Standish would hold out.

"You and Brother Ezra decided to indulge in a little liquid R and R."

Vin wrinkled his brow trying to dredge up hazy memories. He definitely remembered being at Inez's saloon and could recall Ezra joining him a little later. Still the reason behind it still eluded him.

"We do anythin' stupid?" Tanner hated to ask the question but he needed to know if Chris and the others were going to rip his head off or not or if he still had a job when he went into the office. Or should he venture into the office at all.

Josiah let loose with a soft baritone chuckle as he stared pointedly at Tanner, "Well that all depends on your definition of stupid."

Vin held his tongue. He was in Josiah's home for a reason and had been the recipient of his hospitality.

Sanchez noticed the anxious silence. Vin had to be suffering because Josiah could easily see the consternation in the normally unflappable young man. "Well lets see," The older man began falling easily into the role of an older, wiser friend, "you had another argument with Chris and stormed out of the office."

Vin remembered that, but he would not have called 'storming out' as Josiah labeled it. Tanner believed he displayed more control than that, he was just determined.

"Then apparently went to the 'Saloon' and between you and Ezra polished off a bottle of Jack Daniels." Sanchez had learned that little detail after Buck and JD called last night. The dynamic duo had stopped at Inez's to get the 'skinny' on what happened there that afternoon. (Josiah shook his head sometimes JD's use of the English language was as convoluted as Ezra's)

"Ezra got'n an argument with Chris too?" Tanner asked. He hoped not, Chris had been in such a foul mood lately, mostly due to Tanner himself, that Ezra did not need to be aggravating their leader more.

Josiah's smile faded slightly. He felt somewhat responsible for the trouble Ezra now found himself in today. "No I sent Brother Ezra out after you," Sanchez softly intoned.

Tanner nodded at that, he had begun to recall bits and pieces of the conversation with the undercover agent.

Sanchez then related the rest of the tale chuckling when Tanner dropped his head onto the small kitchen table, with a groan, burying his head in his arms. Apparently Vin did not recall riding Stripe into the lobby of the Federal building.

Sanchez laughed softly and sipped at his coffee. He would let Tanner digest this information before Josiah decided to dig for the reasons behind all the tension between Chris and him.

A minute or so passed and Josiah feared the younger man might have drifted off to sleep. Sanchez took the plunge, jumping in with both feet in a manner that rivaled Buck.

"You want to tell me what's goin' on between you 'n Chris?" Sanchez asked his tone clearly indicating he would not take 'no' for an answer.

Tanner heard the subtle order disguised as a request. Vin lifted his forehead slightly off the table and stared bleary eyed at the older man across from him.

"Ahhh what the hell," Vin muttered. His head hurt the eggs threatened to come back up and he was most likely out of a job. Tanner had nothing left to lose.

Josiah watched the blood shot young man who slumped against the table across from him. More times than not Sanchez forgot just how young Tanner actually was. The others did too even Chris. Not that age was any excuse for the odd behavior that had been occurring in the last few days but it did explain allot. Sanchez leaned back in his chair ignoring the empty plate and cooling cup of coffee. Instead he stared at the young sharpshooter and listened.

Vin gazed at Josiah one more time trying to size up the man. He knew Sanchez was worthy of his trust and knew the older man would do everything in his power to help the team. Vin was well aware of the dedication Josiah had for the team. It nearly exceeded JD's faith in the group.

Dunne would sacrifice a life and limb to hold the team together and would do it with his usual unthinking enthusiasm. Nathan was the same way with but a little more conservative. Chris and Buck gave all they had to hold the others together and well Ezra he would convince you to sacrifice your limb for the team. Push come to shove though the southerner would come to their aid, but they would pay dearly for it in the end.

It was without much hesitation and unparalleled trust Vin opened up and discussed his opinion in the matter between he and Chris.

Josiah listened surprised at the depth of observation and kinship the young man possessed for the other six men. Sanchez held his comments. Tanner was a fiercely private and independent young man. He did not divulge information freely or in a whimsical manner. Knowing this made the strengthening bond of trust between the two agents stronger. When Vin finally finished speaking his soft Texan drawl slowly dying out in the morning hours, Josiah sat quietly not moving.

Tanner watched and waited. He laid everything on the table. His blue eyes scrutinized the older man in front of him. Josiah had listened intently to every word never once diverting his attention to the waking sounds of the city around them. Vin's hopes of understanding were founded in the slow meaningful repeated nods from Josiah.

Sanchez had to admit he had never thought of the bust and subsequent problems from Nathan's point of view. How could he have missed it? They all had, even Chris.

Jackson seemingly faced this dilemma all alone. Except there really was not a problem. It was all contrived in the second guessing ruminations of the supposed most confident of the group. Jackson, of all of them, had both feet planted firmly on the ground. He was part of the glue that held the others together. Nathan did not have JD's childish impulses or Buck's for that matter. He did not suffer from Chris's black moods. Nathan was more open and approachable than the silent tracker. Jackson did not exude the over indulged self confidence of the southerner. Of the seven, Nathan Jackson had to be the most level headed agreeable person of the group.

Vin's observation's were astounding. They had all missed it.

Josiah finally spoke, "Ezra know?"

"Yup," Tanner answered back nodding shallowly. His head was killing him.

Sanchez shut his eyes, no wonder Nathan nearly bit his head off last night. He sent up a silent prayer, hoping the mouthy southerner survived the night.


Nathan glanced at his watch again. Seven fifteen am, they had less than an hour to get to the office. Jackson hated being late. He stared down at the still sleeping southerner. Standish had ignored or was oblivious to the fact he no longer had a blanket. Jackson had pulled that off the bed ten minutes ago.

"Ezra get outta bed," Nathan repeated again. He slapped the slightly curled legs. Standish still slept in the suit he wore yesterday. His suit coat had twisted itself up around his shoulders pinning his arms back in an uncomfortable manner. One would have thought that would have been enough to rouse anyone awake. Nothing.

"Damn it Ezra get up." Jackson refused to shout but was not above raising his voice. He was tired. The barbed observations from the southerner last night had taken a seed in Nathan's conscious mind. He did not sleep well in the spare room. He had tossed and turned all night Ezra's accusations and torrid remarks had taken root and echoed through him restlessly.

Jackson did reduce himself to tweaking the undercover agents visible ear. This earned the desired result. A moan and some movement answered the sudden insult.

It was enough encouragement for Jackson to repeat it with a little more pressure. A thick garbled response softly rang out, "Go'way."

No flowery language, Jackson mused, must be too early for the five dollar vocabulary.

"Ezra git up you're gonna be late for work." Nathan explained. His patience with this man had hit an all time low early last night. As the evening progressed and sleep eluded him, Jackson began to develop an insight of his own. Though he blamed Ezra for his lack of sleep he also appreciated the bared honesty, even if it was a result of the alcohol.

"Nathan?" Green blood shot eyes squinted up at him and his features furrowed slightly. The curled body did not dare move. His stomach promised retribution for yesterday's mistreatment.

"Yeah now git up we're gonna be late." Nathan grabbed the lower legs of the groggy man and pulled them to the edge of the bed. The movement resulted in a moan.

"Whatta you doin' here?" Standish paused rubbing at this face wondering if it would be better if his head just fell off. "Better yet go 'way," he droled out. Gawd he had never felt this sick in all his life. A thick cottony film covered his teeth. His tongue was dry and seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"I ain't goin' away so just get your stubborn ass out of bed." Jackson grabbed the smaller southerner by the front of his suit coat and hauled him up into a sitting position.

"Oh gawd I'm gonna be sick," The alarm in the normally soft southern voice shot through Jackson like a bolt of electricity.

"Oh no ya don't," Nathan's panic nearly matched his determination as he half carried half dragged the less than cooperative agent into the bathroom. Jackson had already cleaned up last night he had no intention of repeating the nasty chore.

They made it to the porcelain receptacle just in time.

Josiah dialed Ezra's home phone. The automated machine answered. "Nathan you there pick up....Ey Nathan." Sanchez's voice rang out through the small speaker.

"You there? Josiah?" Jackson said leaning across the kitchen counter grabbing desperately for the phone.

"Morning Brother, how's it going over your way?" Josiah asked. He stared at Vin who dozed on the couch. They would be slightly late today.

"Well got Ezra in the shower." Jackson answered.

Sanchez checked his watch, seven twenty am, not bad Nathan could be persuasive if he needed too.

"He doin' all right?" Sanchez hated to admit it but he was worried about the southerner.

"Sick as dog."

Josiah noticed the light chuckle behind the statement. "Guess we'll see ya in the office."

"Sure, how's Vin?"

"Same as Brother Ezra."

The two men hung up their respective phones and faced the challenge of making their charges ready for the day.

Nathan took a side glance at the quiet man beside him. Standish leaned against the passenger door his head back against the head rest. He gave all appearances of sleeping except for the occasional delicate swallowing. Jackson tried to go easy on the gas and brakes avoiding any undo motion. The Ezra's light green complexion almost matched his eyes.

Josiah herded the battered rig through traffic. They hit every red light. Tanner did not seem to mind. He sought relief from his hangover by indulging his body with another short nap. The eggs had stayed down and the short sleep he caught before leaving Sanchez's apartment seemed to have done wonders for the hangover. Apparently he was going to repeat the tactic.

While both agents wove gently through traffic their phones rang. Jackson answered his and recognized Larabee's curt voice. Sanchez heard Buck on the other end of his line. Team eight was in a middle of a bust going sour. They needed back up and team seven was requested. Blue and white strobe lights began to flash in the grills of the respective vehicles and sirens wailed. The agents depressed accelerators as they drove confidently through the parting traffic. Their passengers sat more up right, bleary eyes blinked and weapons were checked and vests retrieved from the back seats. Hangovers were pushed back, thoughts of reprimands forgotten, adrenaline rushed into blood streams like water raging through a broken dam.

They lived for this kind of action.

The two vehicles arrived just behind Chris's black Dodge. Buck and JD were already there. Josiah, Nathan, Vin and Ezra jogged up to join the others. Larabee gave his two wayward agents a quick once over. They appeared.....functional.

Vin and Eza shot each other questionable but embarrassed glances. Both men wanted to slink off and collaborate and maybe between their two colander like memories piece together enough information for an adequate defense. Chris Larabee was going to kill them.

Larabee soon held the attention of all his men. In less than a few seconds they were heading toward Warehouse number 26. The seven men began to pair off.

The standoff between Team 8 and the gundealers had moved outside. Bullets had not started flying but tense voices rang out across the cluttered tarred loading bays. The large cargo doors of the warehouse was open revealing smooth seamless concrete. A black well polished SUV sat parked toward the proximal end near the open doors.

Larabee cursed. The others heard him over their head sets. Douglas Stone had himself pinned in a choke hold with a Gloc to his head. The dealer's gun hand was steady but his voice was not. There were suppose to be six men apart of the deal not including the two agents from team 8.

The Dealer, Jeff Graham was a dangerous individual who surrounded himself with a lethal cadre of ruthless men. This was a group the ATF department had been trying to bring down for sometime. Chris and his team had wanted a crack at them but had been bypassed do to their already full case load. Team 8 had the honors.

Team 8 was a formidable unit and the camaraderie between the two ATF groups was well known. They fought hard, worked hard and played hard together. Judge Travis always tried to keep the two separate, they were rowdy enough on their own. The two teams did not need to feed off each other's enthusiasm. Last time they did that, Inez's Saloon, had to be refurbished.

Josiah and Nathan split off from the group heading toward the East keeping as many players in view as possible. Buck and JD headed west seeking cover behind railroad shipping crates but able to observe the actions of their teammates and criminals. Vin took high ground finding the elevated cab of a loading crane adequate advantage to draw a beed on the foolish individual who held Douglas's life in his hands. Ezra slid off circling down the side of the building entering it and creeping up behind the SUV. Buck and JD a scant few dozen yards away from him.


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