Author's Notes: The following is "episode" 4 in my "A Look In The Mirror" series, which takes the Viper series starting in 1994 in a whole new direction, circumnavigating the syndicated series (partly because I've never seen it... or at least not much of it). But anyways, Viper and its original characters belong to Pet Fly (the car to Dodge) and this series and any characters I add belong to me, so if you want to use any of this for your own stories please ask first via e-mail (You can reach me at evil_overlady@excite.com ). I think that about covers everything. Enjoy!

Summary: Sally Gerraro has a dark past, one that endangers her career as a police lieutenant and her life unless Joe and the Viper team can help her before it's too late to save either...

~ * ~ *~ * ~

Grease
Evil Overlady

-Prologue-

A buxom blonde in revealing tight black leather strode across the headlights of the braked golden corvette into the center of the street before a navy-blue Toyota STX. Both cars rumbled.

Spike-heeled boots stabbed pavement and a crimson handkerchief hung from one hand.

A pink bubble popped before her lips and she chewed lazily, jingling cone-shaped earrings.

The scarf rose slowly high above her head, waited, and she karate-chopped the air.

The cars were off, screaming tires tearing up the pavement.

The blonde chewed a few more times and smiled.

Several blocks down, gold and blue cut a corner, scraping sidewalk.

Gold swerved at Blue. Blue moved with it like an elegant ballet.

Gold moved back, feigning defeat, then struck hard and fast, crumpling navy metal.

Blue squealed but met the attack, locking sides, pushing against each other.

They were approaching a streetlight at high speed, the lights flipping from green to gold.

An old brown Pinto was purring up the side road, oblivious to the danger.

Red glared.

Blue still pushed against Gold, fighting for supremacy and finally gaining road.

The Pinto pulled out.

Blue screeched to a long ear-shattering halt.

The old man in the pinto looked up and screamed.

Blue bumped it but no more. A female voice within cursed.

Gold sped off down to the finish line, the winner of tonight's illegal race.

The old man stared, face whiter than usual.

Brown hair tossed and a pair of fists abused the steering wheel.

Lieutenant Sally Gerraro had a lot to answer for...

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Grease
Evil Overlady

-Chapter 1-

"Billy, you use crystal clear mountain spring water. Anything less and you'll gum up the entire system. Capisce?" Frankie scolded beneath the hood of the patrol car. Brown eyes looked up. "Sally!"

Lieutenant Gerraro crossed her arms. "Waters," she returned, voice monotoned.

He cleared his throat. "Billy, why don't you go lend Nash a hand. I'll be back in a jiffy."

"Sure thing, Mister Waters." He left.

"New recruits," Frankie explained. "So what great fortune has granted me the honor of this visit?"

"I crashed my car."

"Oh." That stopped him a moment. "Well, you're in luck, my friend. It just so happens I hold the keys to an available patrol car in pristine condition. If you'll follow me..."

"How long with it take for you to fix my car?"

Frankie stopped in mid-turn. "Um... That depends. STX, right?"

"Right."

"Did you get a report?"

"Crumpled side, busted headlight. I think the wheel's jammed."

"Side-swiped, huh?"

"Yeah," came her response but no details.

"I say noontime tomorrow, best case scenario."

"Damn," she muttered. "By then it'll be too late..."

A thick eyebrow raised curiously.

"Thanks anyway, Waters." She turned away.

"Hey, Gerraro?" She turned back. "You okay?"

She smiled weakly. "Peachy." She paused. "Uh... Tell Joe I said, 'hi.'"

"You can tell him yourself. He's at..." He stopped, remembering their public surroundings. "I mean, he's with the kids."

"Thanks. I'll stop by."

"Hey, you want that spare car?"

"No, I'll take the bus."

"Okay." Frankie watched her worriedly.

* * *

The doorbell rang and Mara Wilkes opened the wooden door. "Sally!" the dark-skinned woman greeted.

Gerraro nodded formally. "Hello, Mrs. Wilkes. Is Joe around?"

"He's out back with Julian. Please, come in."

Gerraro stepped inside.

"Can I get you something to drink? I made a fresh batch of iced tea."

"Tea would be fine." She lifted a hand, remembering the bouquet of white and yellow daisies. "Oh. These are for you."

"Oh! You didn't have to..."

"Well, they're kinda for you and Julian. I was a little hard on him while he helped me update my computer system at work, but I didn't want to give the wrong impression..."

Mara touched her arm assuringly. "I'll pass it along." She pulled a vase from the cabinet and filled it with water. "Will you be staying for lunch?"

"No, I'm in kind of a rush. Just thought I'd drop by..." Gerraro turned, looking out the kitchen window.

Joe was in a sleeveless T-shirt, dripping with sweat. Something orange flew by him.

"Basketball?" Gerraro asked.

Gerraro heard tea and ice pour into a glass behind her.

"Julian thought he'd teach Joe a 'real' game." Mara laughed. "Men..."

Gerraro retrieved the glass. "Yeah..." She took a sip. "Mm... good. Thanks."

"You're welcome anytime."

Gerraro slid out of the kitchen and made her way outside.

* * *

"Three/six!" Joe called as the ball bounced back.

"Whatcha talking about? That's two/six!" Julian corrected.

Joe paused, collecting the ball. "Well, I thought..."

"Uh-huh..." Julian replied in that typical knowing tone. "Two/six."

Joe grumbled and tossed the ball to Julian. "Oh, cut me some slack, Julian. I haven't played this game before. ...That I can remember, anyhow."

"Excuses, excuses..."

"Am I interrupting anything?"

Joe turned. "Oh, hey, Sal!" He brushed sweaty hair from his forehead.

Sally tossed him a towel.

"Dad's just kicking Joe's butt," Ronnie supplied helpfully from the picnic table, drawing a picture.

Joe balled up the towel and raised it to throw it at Ronnie.

"Eek!" Ronnie blocked her face, accidentally coloring her arm with green marker.

Joe smiled. Revenge. He straightened the towel again.

"Just thought I'd stop by to see how you were doing," Sally explained.

"Great. We're doing great. Up for a game?" Joe gestured to the ball, which Julian twirled on one finger. "Show off..."

"Uh, no thanks."

"You can be on my team," Joe suggested. He watched Ronnie wet her fingers and rub at the mark on her arm and admitted, "It'd certainly help my image."

"I'm not dressed for it. Besides, I'm in a real hurry."

"What's the rush?"

"Personal. Can't a person have a personal problem?"

"Uh... Yeah, but..."

"Forget it. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"No problem," Julian answered.

Gerraro stalked back into the house.

"Gee whiz!" Julian exclaimed when she was gone. "What'd you say to her?"

Joe shook his head. "I wish I knew..." ...Yet something seemed off and slightly familiar about her behavior. "I better go talk with her." He passed the towel off to Julian.

"The consequences of giving a cat a bath come to mind," Julian noted aloud.

"I'll be careful. ...Thanks for the reminder. I think Shadow ran into a skunk last night."

Julian rolled his eyes.

Joe jogged through the house. "Hey, Sally, wait up!"

"Joe, I think she already-" Mara began.

Joe got to the front door and opened it. "Delia?"

The ex-commander of the police force stood before him in a trench coat. "Hi, Joe." She nodded. "Julian."

Joe glanced back as Julian rolled up to them.

"I hope I didn't come at a bad time."

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Grease
Evil Overlady

-Chapter 2-

"And you think these weapons are being sold here in Metro," Joe concluded, drinking out of a nearly-empty bottle of water, showered and changed into a loose gray sweater over a white T-shirt and black slacks.

"Without a doubt," Delia replied, holding the remote. "And rumor has it to a crooked cop."

"What does a crooked cop want with a shipment of weapons?" Julian wondered.

"Don't know, but if he's anything like Flagler it can't be good." Delia turned off the screen and faced Joe. "Our latest intel points to a transaction due to occur sometime in the next few hours under the Greystone Bridge. There's been some mention of a prize at the end of a race."

"Under Greystone Bridge? Probably street racing," Joe reasoned aloud.

Delia handed Joe a camera. "I need some good pictures for evidence. How you handle the rest is up to you guys."

Joe accepted the camera and eyed Julian. "Whatcha think?"

"Just twenty-four hours is all I'm asking. No bad guys. No high-speed chases. No wrecked cars. Is that so much?" Julian muttered, wheeling off to the kitchen.

Mara watched him go as she ran a dish towel through a clean glass.

Joe smiled. "He'll be fine. Just little too much of Mara's iced tea."

"Hey!" Mara slapped him on the arm with the towel.

"Ow."

Delia released the breath she was holding. "Thank you, Joe."

Mara returned to the kitchen with the glass and towel.

"Just using that car how it was meant to be used."

"Still... Metro wouldn't be the same without you two."

"Yeah..." Joe watched Mara and Julian, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

* * *

Sally Gerraro pulled on driving gloves while the young brown-haired man beside her drove an old racing car down into the nearly dry river bed where a group of people and the gold corvette waited.

"They don't look too happy..." the young man noted.

"No, they don't," Sally exhaled. "Listen, Kevin, thanks for the wheels."

"Hey! No problem."

"But I want you to do something for me." She reached into her jean jacket for some money. "As soon as you drop me off, walk away. Take the bus home."

"Hey! No way, Grease!"

"Kevin, please. You're a good kid. I don't want to see you get mixed up in all this."

"But-"

"For little sister's sake."

Kevin swallowed his words and nodded, taking the money.

"Thank you."

They parked and got out.

A man about Sally's age had his arm around the shoulders of the blonde from last night. "Rematch, eh, Grease? Same game. New place."

"Hey, Grease can kick your slimy tail out of this world! You just watch it, old man!" Kevin yelled.

"Kevin, get outta here," Gerraro said.

The young man didn't move.

"Beat it!" she snapped.

"Yeah, yeah..." He tossed her the keys and sauntered off.

"You should put a leash on that Chihuahua of yours."

"Arf! Arf!" one of the gangsters mimicked.

Gerraro pointed the car keys at her competition. "This is for Melissa. I race you fairly and she gets her transplant, win or lose."

He grinned. "The deal's changed, Grease. My boys saw you take that crumpled blueberry of yours to the cops. You might've let something slip."

"You know me, Jamie. I keep my word. I just took the car there because I have connections. I'm no snitch."

Jamie gave their surroundings a once-over. "Well, I have to play it safe... You win, I help the girl and you get the weapons. I win, I get your car... and a copy of your resignation from the force, and you come and work for me."

"Those are not negotiable terms. It's the car for the weapons, the race for the girl, or no deal."

"In that case... It's been fun. C'mon, Fritz."

"Wait."

The gang leader eyed her.

"Win or lose, Melissa gets some of your bone marrow. Win, I get the weapons. Lose, you get my car and I resign. I'm not going to gamble a little girl's life in a game. So what'll it be?"

A smile crossed his lips. "You've got yourself a race."

Gerraro nodded.

"Let's do this, people!"

Shouts of glee rang through the crowd.

* * *

Sunlight glinted off a cherry-red convertible as it sat upon the Greystone Bridge behind the spectators.

Joe lowered his binoculars.

"Gerraro?"

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Grease
Evil Overlady

-Chapter 3-

"Woo-hoo!" someone screamed.

Gloved fingers clenched and unclenched around the steering wheel. Brown eyes jerked to Jamie as he revved his engine, taunting her.

Gerraro focused her gaze on the course before them. Down along one side of the mostly dried river, circle around the pilings of the other bridge, cut across along a narrow stretch of shallow water, and rush back to Fritz and the crowd.

Win or lose, Kevin's little sister was going to get the treatment she deserved.

Fritz crossed the line in front of them, characteristic red scarf in hand.

She raised it.

Gerraro heard tires screech and looked out the passenger window to find a red convertible coming down the riverbank.

"Joe?"

The flag dropped.

Gerraro floored it.

Old race car and gold corvette tore up riverbed while Joe descended into the ravine and followed.

"Damnit, Joe..."

Jamie looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at her.

She grinned and shrugged innocently.

Jamie looked suspicious but pushed the corvette harder, gaining road ahead of her.

Gerraro steered to give them some distance before the ramming could begin.

Gerraro's cell phone rang, startling her into losing ground.

She growled and sped up again, grabbing the phone and opening it to her ear. "Now's not a good time!" she yelled into the phone.

"Sally, stop the race," came Joe's voice.

"I can't."

She closed the phone on him. Wish you could understand, Joe...

* * *

"-than through a stupid- Sally?"

Joe groaned. Cut me off... "You always have to be so..."

Suddenly, he saw old city street in front of him with abandoned warehouses on either side.

The ex-crook blinked and shook his head.

The riverbed was back with the two racing cars in front of him.

"Great googlie-mooglie... I've gotta stop this race... unless I wanna end up like Michael Payton."

* * *

They were past the bridge and Gerraro found the shallow water.

There was only room enough for one car to cross, but neither of them were backing down.

She would need to cut quick and sharp to get ahead of him.

Gerraro slowed and yanked hard on the steering wheel.

Wheels squeaked, kicked up mud

Jamie slowed, much to her surprise.

Gerraro lost her traction. She'd cut the turn too sharp.

The wheels slid out from under her and she rolled.

* * *

"Sally!" Joe screamed and slammed on the brakes.

The corvette stopped as well.

The race car rolled a few more times and landed upside-down.

Joe's blood ran cold.

The corvette's driver looked at him, face pale.

Joe thumbed the seatbelt and launched out of the car, running towards Gerraro. "Help me!" he yelled to the man.

The man didn't move.

"Help me, for goodness sakes!"

Police sirens blared on the wind.

Patrol cars were filing into the ravine.

Joe watched them then looked back.

The spectators scrambled for their cars and took off.

Blue eyes met hazel.

The man bolted, jumped back into the corvette, and sped away.

Joe wanted to ring his scrawny neck but shoved the idea to the back of his mind. He reached into the car to carefully undo Gerraro's seatbelt and scoop her into his arms.

He couldn't let them find her here, a good cop, one of the few Metro had.

He carried her to the Viper, strapped her in, and drove them out of there, faster than the police could catch up, full speed to the nearest hospital.

* * *

"She has a concussion," the nurse told him. "We'll keep her overnight for observation."

"Thank you," Joe said, holding a styrofoam cup of coffee.

Joe made his way back down the hall to Gerraro's room and found a young man, not too much older than Tim Rackam, holding her hand, whispering something inaudible.

Joe stepped into the room and cleared his throat.

The kid was on his feet and ready to run.

Joe opened his hands peacefully. "Whoa! Hold on. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Who are you?"

"Joe Astor. I'm a friend of Sally's."

"You're a cop?"

"No."

"Only friends Grease's got now are cops."

"Well, I'm an exception. It's a long story... Grease?"

He laughed and sat back down. "Sorry. Guess I've gotten so used to calling her that. I forget she tries to forget that part of her life."

"And what life is that?" Joe shut the door behind him and took a seat beside the kid.

"Street racing," was his response, as if that was obvious. "Sally was the best. That's why I call her 'Grease.' She just glides across the road..." He looked sadly at the unconscious lieutenant. "I knew I shouldn't have left her alone with Jamie and the gang. It's just like him to pull some crazy stunt to put ol' Grease in the hospital. He wouldn't help a sick little girl to save his soul."

Joe handed him the coffee. He needed it more than Joe. "A sick little girl?"

He took a sip, let the heat and caffeine fuel him. "Melissa, my sister. She's got Leukemia and the only way to help her is with a bone marrow transplant. Jamie's a match but he says he won't help her unless Grease proves to him that he's the best driver in all of Metro."

"The best, huh...?" Joe pondered aloud. "And if someone proves him wrong?"

"No one's better than Grease."

"No one has to be. They just have to be better than Jamie."

"You got someone in mind?"

"I just might... What's with the guns?"

The kid regarded him apprehensively.

"Heard about it on the street," Joe explained nonchalantly.

"Jamie's hoping to get in good with the Outfit by selling them the guns, but if Grease beat him the guns would be obsolete, so he's offered to turn 'em over if she won them, but she can't now."

"Don't be so sure. What's Jamie up to now?"

"He's set to meet some guys out somewhere in the old ironworks district on Maple Street. I don't remember the exact address but I can show you."

"No. You take care of your sister. She needs all the support she can get."

The kid nodded.

"I'll be back before you know it."

* * *

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Julian..."

"Chasing after criminals is one thing. Racing them is an entirely different matter!"

"How so?" Joe wondered.

"I second the notion," Frankie added. "You didn't see what happened to Gerraro's car. I had to replace the entire axle. Not to mention the side panel, the hood..."

"Frankie," Joe warned.

"Well, you get the picture." Frankie leaned against the monitoring equipment.

"Look, Julian, this Jamie character's about to sell a whole shipment of guns on the street. Racing him might be the only way to stop him."

"It's too dangerous. If the Viper should flip..."

"I'll morph before it does that."

"Even if you do manage to morph in time, all the sophisticated technology on the planet wouldn't stop you from being tossed about like a penny in a soda can."

"Joe, we're talking rock tumbler in the worst sense," Frankie added.

"Sally's in a hospital with a concussion and a broken arm because of him! If I don't stop him no one will..." Joe turned, accepting defeat, making his way to his motorcycle.

Julian and Frankie eyed one-another.

"Hey, Joe!" Julian yelled.

Joe turned and caught a racecar helmet, the same helmet he'd worn when he first test-drove the Viper.

Julian held up the rest of the uniform.

"Goodness! You still have that?" Joe exclaimed.

Julian shrugged. "Wanna know my old security code?"

"No thanks." Joe approached and took the uniform.

Frankie lifted something light-pink and fuzzy. A lucky rabbit's foot.

"Frankie..."

"Humor me, Joe. That guy's gonna be smacking you like a potato-masher on wheels."

"A little hungry there, Frankie?" Joe remarked.

"Laugh now, but when you land in a bed next to Gerraro, don't say we didn't warn you."

"You guys really don't want me to do this."

"Should I answer that or just glare?" Frankie remarked.

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Grease
Evil Overlady

-Chapter 4-

Sally Gerraro stirred, felt unfamiliar bedding beneath her, jerked up.

"Easy! Easy!"

"Kevlar!" she breathed, recognizing Kevin Raines in the hospital lighting. "What's going on? How'd I end up here?"

"Just a minute." The young man jogged up to the doorway. "Nurse! She's awake!"

"How long have I been here? Where's Joe?"

"Most of the day," Kevlar answered and waited for the nurse.

"Kevlar?"

He drooped. "On his way to race Jamie."

"What?!" She tore the IV from her arm and raced to get to her feet.

"Sally, no!" He caught her as her knees buckled beneath her.

"He can't face Jamie. That noble self-sacrificing son of a..."

A doctor and a nurse walked in then hurried to Kevin's aid. "Miss Gerraro, you should be in bed," the male doctor said.

She grabbed a fistful of lab coat with her good hand. "You may be the one with the needle, pal, but call me 'miss' again and I swear I'll-"

"Sally!" Kevin snapped.

"Oh..." Gerraro put a hand to her pounding head and let them help her to the bed and replace the IV. "Ow! Watch it!"

"You should wait outside, young man," the nurse said.

"Yeah, all right."

"Kevin," Sally called. "Find my partner Kisko. Get him down to where you sent Joe, and tell him to bring as many units as he can with him and block it off!"

Kevin nodded to her and ran off.

Sally breathed a sigh of relief. "One of these days, Joe Astor, I'm kick your butt..."

* * *

Mr. Chapman, Lane Cassidy's head of security, approached the open crate of new weapons. Handguns, assault rifles, and miscellaneous arms. He picked up an assault rifle and checked it over.

"It's yours. All of it," Jamie told him, fondling Fritz.

The suited man didn't look up. "You beat Gerraro?"

"She's in the hospital."

Chapman looked up. "But?"

"What? She didn't complete the course. So what?"

"She had you, Jamie," Fritz scolded.

"Fritz!"

Chapman pointed the gun at them.

They froze.

Chapman tossed it back into the crate. "Mister Cassidy doesn't have time to waste with lowlifes. Perhaps, if you're fortunate another opportunity will arise."

"Hey! I worked good for this!"

"Weapons are easy. Talent is what he need in our organization."

"Talent like mine?" a new voice echoed in the parking garage.

Chapman turned, gun drawn. "Astor!"

Joe Astor leaned against his red car, illuminated by the headlights behind him, a helmet tucked under one arm. "I've got a bone to pick with you, Jamie. ...So to speak... You're gonna let a little kid die because of your arrogance, and you nearly killed a very good friend of mine. That makes me very agitated, and you don't want to see me when I'm agitated."

"Oh, yeah?! Well, whatcha gonna do about it, old man!"

Joe sneered at him. "Make you hurt. ...For starters."

Chapman noted the helmet. "Looks like you're ready for a race."

"I might be..."

Chapman turned to Jamie. "I'll make you a new proposition. Beat Joe Astor and you can have any position you want under Mister Cassidy."

Jamie's eyes sparkled with renewed interest. "You're on!" He turned to Joe. "Just you and me, pal! Up to Market and back."

"I know the rules." He pulled on his helmet.

"Get out there, Fritz, and set the line."

She clung to his arm. "Jamie, maybe you shouldn't. I've heard stories, you know, about a guy who drives a fancy armored car. What if that's him?"

"That rust bucket armored? You need new contact lenses, Fritz." He pulled out of her brace and pushed her ahead of him. "Now, get going!"

She grumbled. "One of these days you'll get yours, Jamie."

Jamie and Joe got into their respective cars and filed out of the parking garage onto the city street and on up to the corner.

Fritz stepped off the sidewalk, nervous. She eyed the red car's driver, but the combination of visor and nightfall made his face unreadable. Only their headlights shone.

Fritz pulled out her red scarf, untangled it with sweaty hands. "Jamie..." she pleaded.

"Raise it, Fritz!"

"There's something you should know first," Astor said.

"And what's that?"

"The winner gets to have whatever he wants from the loser."

Jamie laugh. "What makes you so confident?"

"Are those acceptable terms?"

"Hell, yeah!"

"Good. I'll see you on the other side." He screeched off.

"Hey!" Jamie took off after him.

Fritz sighed and dropped the linen as an afterthought.

* * *

Red and gold raced down the abandoned city streets, red way ahead of gold.

Joe smiled to himself and lowered his speed, giving his competition a chance to come even with him. Jamie then inched forward.

"Think hot stuff, huh?" Joe muttered. "Let's build a little confidence here..."

The corvette swerved toward him.

Joe moved with it, avoiding contact.

"Wanna play rough, now? Okay... Let's take it up a notch..." He pushed the accelerator.

An inch. Another few inches. Joe was a full car ahead of the corvette now.

"Okay..." Joe exhaled.

A chocolate-colored pinto popped out from the side street.

Lightning-quick reflexes and the Viper's hair-trigger steering column allowed him to swerve and miss the bystander with a wide arc.

Joe looked over his shoulder. "Car's the same color as the paint chips Frankie pulled out of Gerraro's bumper. Julian, put a tab on that guy. I've got a suspicion..."

* * *

At the power station, Frankie tapped away at the keys of one of their computers while Julian relayed the information he was picking up via satellite.

"Your hunch is right on the money," Frankie reported. "Guy's wanted on several counts of fraud."

"Likely indeed," Frankie replied. "According to this, he's Jamie's uncle."

"I'll pass the information on to dispatch," Julian told them.

"Ha!" Frankie and Julian cried in unison.

Julian smiled.

* * *

They were ascending up a hill, Jamie still behind Joe but very slowly catching up.

Joe licked his lips. "And now comes the tricky part..."

Frankie squeaked. "No way, Joe! Not even you! A U-Turn on a hill? You gotta be nuts!"

"I'll make it."

"Joe," sounded Julian worriedly.

"I can do it."

"Joe!" came their voices in unison.

Joe hit a switch. 3-7-5-9. Monitors flipped, emerged. The roof ascended. The car turned silver.

The Defender climbed the hill, slowed just a tad, made the turn, came down the hill, foot off the accelerator, other foot on the clutch. He let momentum carry him.

Jamie watched him shoot by in awe and spun his car around prematurely, nearly losing his traction but regaining control.

They reached the foot of the hill, and Joe was on the accelerator again, letting Jamie trail him once again.

"Woohoo!" Frankie screamed.

Joe smiled but it soon became a grimace. He was shaking, unable to even sweat. A stunt like that could've broken his neck.

Joe hit the button again. The top retracted. Extra monitors disappeared. It was a regular red car again.

They roared across the finish line, the blonde swinging her handkerchief wildly and screaming with delight.

Joe made a one-eighty and faced the corvette as it came in.

"You... you cheated." Jamie stepped out.

"I gave you more than enough opportunities to make up for it."

The blonde turned to the gang leader. "Jamie, he won."

Chapman shrugged. "Better luck next time." He motioned to the rest of his men, and they departed.

"Whatever I want," Joe reminded him.

"Yeah..." Jamie lowered his head solemnly. "Yeah."

"The guns stay here for the police, and you and I are driving to the hospital to say hello to Melissa Raines and her doctors. And you will help her, or so help me..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll help."

"Good. Now, get in your car. And this time you can lead."

"C'mon, Fritz. No sense being here when the cops show."

They got into the corvette and drove off.

Joe followed.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Grease
Evil Overlady

-Epilogue-

Police swarmed the abandoned warehouse district, collecting whatever punks had decided to try their luck at retrieving the shipment of weapons, and they weren't few in number.

Kisko whistled when he saw the scene Gerraro had somehow known to direct him to.

"I swear to you! I'm telling the truth!" an old man yelled, handcuffed and being hauled away. "It was a car that changed shape and color! Red one minute and gray the next!"

Kisko turned his gaze to the slowly lightening sky as a gold car sped down a distant road followed by a red one.

Kisko smiled. He seemed to recall some mention of a Metropol project involving some sort of high-tech pursuit vehicle. His partner had once taken an interest in it. Official records said it was destroyed.

Now, he wondered what sort of dark secrets his fiery partner kept hidden from the world at large...