The Saint's hideout was not the only place in Stilwater the Masako had hit. Amber had showered at the gym, briefly washing away her anxiety, and was on her way to the club, (stopping at her apartment to change into a sequined mini dress, with a red purse slung over her shoulder) when she spotted the crowd of Masako vans outside. She halted at the corner, a lump forming in her throat. No! Not the club! She was caught between a rock and a hard place – she wanted to race inside, curious as to what all the fuss was about. But every instinct she had told her to turn around and go home. She knew better than to get involved. The Masako were Ultors finest security guards – their own army of lethal attack dogs. They made Robocop look tame.

She narrowed her eyes, glancing at the back door, surprised that they hadn't thought to enter through there instead. Having said that, it was fairly well concealed behind a dumpster and some shabby shrubs the owner had recently added. Amber's breathe hitched, as she found her feet inching toward the back door as was her routine for the passed three years. She swallowed, gently opening the door. It reminded her of the many times she snuck out from her dad's place, as she tentatively squeezed through the crack in the door, quiet as a mouse. The memory was tainted with bitterness. He wasn't much of a father, the way he'd stood there, silent, as her stepmom railed on her, when she discovered Amber liked cunt. Clutching her cross, and snarling at Amber in disgust, the way a priest might do in the presence of a vampire.

Sometimes she missed her dad. Other times she was glad for her independence, and despite hoping that he felt guilty for his inaction, and for siding with such an intolerant woman, she wished that one day she would have the goodness in her heart to forgive him. Something her stepmother could never understand. Perhaps Amber could learn to forgive her, too.

Peering through the darkness of the enclosed back room, Amber's eyes struggled at first, to adjust. She pried the door open a few more inches, allowing for some of the fading afternoon light to pierce through and expand her range of vision. Instantly, she regretted it. Clamping a hand to her mouth, her eyes bulging as she backed away. She yelped, as a vice-like grip locked her in black from behind. She panicked, bucking her legs in the air, attempting to stamp on her attacker's feet, all the while shrilling as loud as she could manage, as those same burly arms squeezed the air out of her. She shook and writhed, her vision a blur as a second attacker closed in from around the corner. The last thing she saw was a gloved fist smacking into her.

Meanwhile, Gat and Shaundi were hobbling through a maze of backstreets and underpasses, 'till they found themselves in the heart of Sommerset. Shaundi's ears were still ringing, and she was certain that she could taste blood in her mouth. Her nerves had been frazzled and strained to a point that was all-too familiar. Except when she'd been kidnapped by her ex, she didn't have the added fear of carrying a two hundred pound guy, bleeding out, and adamantly insisting that he didn't need a doctor. At least, that's what she thought he was saying, seeing as her hearing was still botched, the insides of her head buzzing like a swarm of angry wasps had laid their eggs between her ears. Dark clouds hung over Stilwater, as daylight began to dwindle. "I hope the gang're enjoying their lil vacation," Gat remarked, before collapsing onto the open road, and coughing up a few drops of blood.

Shaundi urged him to stand up. She didn't know what it was; fear, desperation, or sheer determination, but she would not abandon him. After hearing the stories of loss from all the other Saints, Shaundi didn't know if she could cope with such guilt, if she left him. If she could find them shelter, or nab a car, or call in for back-up... She tensed, groping down her shirt for her cell phone. It was in this frenzy that she missed the looming headlights of a pick-up truck. The driver skidded, accidentally honking his horn, as he steadied the vehicle, slowing down, before resting beside the two of them. He unrolled his window, blinking at their crumpled, bloody forms. The guy seemed middle-aged, his features hardened, and his skin tanned, no doubt from years spent out working in the hot sun. He wore a trucker cap over his sandy blond hair, and appeared to be wearing a stained flannel shirt. Ya standard redneck, it seemed. Yet his Scottish accent betrayed him "You folks need a ride somewhere?" He asked, whilst chewing on some tobacco. Shaundi's hearing was still muted, and she knew she didn't have much choice – calling for an ambulance would be near impossible. She knew the dangers of hitch-hiking, but she was desperate, and if push came to shove, she was certain she could take out this one guy, even in her weakened state.

The driver popped the locks, and Gat managed to haul himself to his feet, as the two clambered inside. The guy introduced himself as Miah, informing them "I'll be your taxi driver, tonight." Unfortunately it came as a muffled blur to her. Once he'd registered the chunk of metal stuck in Gat's side, his smile disappeared and he nodded.

"Emergency. Right." He ruffled around in his glove compartment.

"What're you doing?" Shaundi shrilled. She could tell her nerves were getting the better of her. She was growing worried about the pool of blood dripping from Gat's side – the mere sight of blood was enough to make her squeamish. It stood out against Gat's pale features. Without missing a beat Miah handed her a bundle of bandages.

"Press down. Use it to stop the bleeding." He said before firing up the engine again. Shaundi swallowed, shaking in shock.

"There's a... thing stuck inside him! Shouldn't we, y'know... get that out?" She asked. Without looking back, he replied.

"No time. Besides, you'll only do more harm than good by tearing that out for now." He then grabbed a water bottle and threw it into the back. "Here. Keep him hydrated. He looks like he lost alotta blood."

"Yeah," she breathed, her fumbling fingers unwinding the roll.

Gat glanced at her, his mind a blur as small slithers of consciousness filtered in and out. Sometimes he'd catch a glimpse out the window, and he'd see that creepy Rhianna bitch. Other times, he'd close his eyes and he'd see something even worse – Eesh's bloody neck stump, Jyunichi's sword glistening with her blood, the splatter dripping down her elegantly painted walls... It was these memories that kept him from fully passing out. He was still fighting. Just like he'd done during his previous brush with death. He tried to keep focused, occasionally providing semi-intelligible snarky commentary about Pierce and the Boss. Shaundi stretched out the bandage, but could barely stand to look at the mangled flesh, much keep herself from gagging as she leaned closer. Gat snatched the bandage away from her and slapped it against his wound, suppressing a groan, as the tender wound throbbed in protest. For the remainder of the journey, Gat stubbornly refused any help, other than the odd sip of water. Miah frowned, but instead focused on bypassing as much traffic as possible, which wasn't hard given his familiarity with far tougher terrain.

As her mind began to clear, Shaundi pulled out her phone and began flicking through her message box, and was surprised to find it empty. Her throat clenched – she hoped that none of her associates were caught in the crossfire. As she flicked through her contacts, she paused at the latest addition. That Tom guy. She hoped he'd gotten home alright. Maybe it was his dapper suit, or his gentle yet firm nature, but there was something about him she found unique. He seemed like... well, a gentleman. Or maybe it was just the novelty of possibly sleeping with a tall black guy that turned her on. Regardless, she wondered if he felt the same, if he might, perchance, be interested in her, too. As her adrenaline rush began to fade, and calm settled over her, she allowed herself to imagine what it'd be like to be held in those arms, safe and warm.

Tina was terrified. She'd heard the explosions all the way from campus earlier that day, and much like the rest of the students and staff alike, she'd been unsure if whether it'd be safest to evacuate the campus or head back to Sommerset. After a rather dull Media class, she was keen to use the violence as an excuse to cut the day short. And sure enough, once the initial scare had passed, and as the radio and news stations started blowing up about how this was a "controlled dispatch on the behalf of highly-trained vigilante group, specializing in apprehending public enemies and war criminals," the situation became clear. Someone was either out to bring down the Saints and / or Ultor. As far as Tina was concerned, both could go to hell.

When Tina eventually arrived back at her room, something didn't feel right. She couldn't quite tell until she felt hot breath on her neck. Her spine tingled, her lips parted, about to cry for help when a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, followed by a sharp pain in her leg. She felt tears in her eyes, overcome with fear and regret. Oh fuck... Why did my sister have to go and date a gangster? She remarked, before she sunk into the arms of her captor, a mysterious man in a suit, with a fedora hat, and cuffs, accented with strips of white.

The man barely acknowledged the camera directly facing him, instead keeping his head down, before hoisting Tina up onto his shoulders and carrying her down the stairs, and vaulting over the fencing, heading towards where a large grey van sat parked at the entrance. Within minutes the van was out of the University District, and heading south for Wardill airport.