Okie dokie, here's Chapter 5. I like this one quite a bit. It gets a little more serious.

Anyway, please feel free to drop me a review. They're more motivational than you know, believe you me.

Enjoy!

"So why are you leading around the squirt?" HB asked me while we suited up in the back of our transpo. I holstered myself into my system of straps and buckles and belts before answering.

"He's actually your new 'liaison'." I said, using the proper term with more than a dash of impropriety. Nanny was more like it, "They figured you wouldn't want him, so I get to train him until you decide you do."

"Who's 'they'?" He asked me, though less than curious.

"Agent Clay, your father, Manning, and Sid herself." Abe answered succinctly for me, doing that thing he does.

"Thanks, Able." I switched into calling him by what I usually call him, "Basically everyone." I added in HB's direction. Just so he didn't misunderstand.

"It is nice to be on everybody's thoughts." He mused, throwing on his trench.

Minutes later, out little group was stomping down the corridors of some New York City museum. Library they called it? Whatever.

Clay, chief to the indians that were the brigade of agents, was giving the rundown in as important a voice as he could muster. Big monster; security dudes dead; don't know where it is at the moment; time to shoot something. Most of our work was a variation on this theme.

The Professor was actually present when we joined the scouting party, which wasn't particularly typical of him. The monster was apparently supposed to be in the room next to us, according to the intel that just came through. Blue started sensing. Red had an awkward moment with his dad. Myers looked like he might throw up or faint or some ghastly combination of the two. I was picking out some choice ammo. Nothing seemed abnormal... Abnormal for the BPRD, anyway.

"Here." HB said in my ear, a little gruff after the exchange with his father, placing some special rounds in my side jacket pocket, "Little baby versions of what I'm using. Watch your kid, but be careful."

"We can be careful when we're dead." I said indifferently, then quickly muttered something only he would hear: "But don't get dead, Red." His stone hand patted my back good-naturedly but with a massive force nonetheless. And then he was gone through the door.

"Aren't we going too?" Myers asked me as I shoved HB's special bullets into an empty clip.

"He always goes in first. Alone." I said, worry trying to eke its way into my voice, "Whatta guy, right?" I covered.

"He'll be fine. As always." Blue said to me, ever the perceptive one. I smiled for his sake before he started to hit his books and feed HB info over the com.

"Hey Sid, this thing's even uglier than that little dog following you around." HB's voice crackled in my ear. Must've just been my channel because no one else reacted, Myers especially.

"Cute." I said in sarcastic tones, but appreciative for the attempt at levity, "Now pay attention to what you're doing."

"Hey Choirboy." I said in Myers's direction. He stopped staring into space long enough to focus, "Don't go so far away." And just as I gave this advice, a huge shock rocked the door. Guns were unholstered all around us.

"I'm going around the back." I heard Myers say with an unexpected amount of conviction. I followed. It wasn't a terrible idea. The fire-stairs were deceptively quiet; as was HB's radio. I was fretting a little as we launched through the alarmed door and rounded a corner into the alley below where HB should have been. But he was actually there on the ground, getting his flesh arm gnawed on by what I assumed was the escaped creature.

"It is a lot uglier than you." Was my suddenly brain-dead response to the scene. Myers recovered fast and immediately started firing. I could only get off one shot to the thing's left eye before HB went into his irrational "I'm the hero, I don't need your help" mode.

"Sid, why'd you bring the kid here?" He was yelling, probably trying not to think about the physical pain he must be in.

"Oh shut up, Red." I said dismissively because I knew he didn't mean to be mean. Of course, in the split second I wasn't watching it, the thing had regenerated like the fucking Wolverine. It had jumped to higher ground, but stupidly made itself a better target. I loaded up HB's special kill-alls and snapped off the entire clip. The last bullet to strike came from the Samaritan; bright green gloop spilled from the entry wound as the monster fell over the edge of the wall.

"Tracking bullet. Smart man." I said a little breathlessly as we climbed over it ourselves, Myers right behind.

"Hey Choirboy, you're on crowd control." I shouted hurriedly when I noticed that we were headed right for a street fair. I just assumed he would know I meant for him to keep the sheep away from the runaway train that was my partner. The trouble only really happened when we were crossing the road and Myers got swiped by an SUV, spinning to the asphalt in a heap. I couldn't pull him up fast enough. But thank the maker for HB and that glorious stone arm of his.

"Red means stop." He somehow had the time to be clever before slamming down on the van to send it into a perfect flip over us. He then grabbed me up and, once he was sure traffic was stopped, told Myers to stay there.

"Admit it, you just can't help but get me alone." I said with a shaky but teasing tone.

"I just don't need you-" He grunted momentarily as he pushed aside a metal grate stained with the tracking material, "-trying to protect your kid when you should just be shooting those pistols."

"Yeah yeah. The veritable one-trick pony." I said flippantly as we climbed down into what would either be a sewer or the subway.

We were in luck, it was the subway. Well, we were in luck until the next train rolled by. Which of course was right away.

HB quickly shoved me against the cold cement wall with no more than, "Suck it in, Sweetness." He was fairly resilient and would get around it some other way. My ammo rattled inside my pockets, and my beloved guns made terrible jostling noises as the cars roared by; but it was gone and passed in a matter of moments. I found HB farther up the track, flat on his back.

"Suck it up, Red Hot." I said, trying to keep up the banter as he noticed his scorched horns, "You file them all the time anyway". I wanted to help pull him up, but "Sammy" was on top of us before I could even give it a go.

One of them pushed me away from the tussle right away, and I found myself with only minor bruising from the force; I pulled out my favored gun even though I knew it would be hard to aim. Sammy slobbering up HB's face with something like mucus was my chance. I took a quick shot at its spine to distract it long enough for HB to grab the electrified third rail and singe the thing to oblivion.

"I'm fireproof, you're not." He said after standing, coolly lighting a cigar off his flaming fingers, "And neither are you, so watch your step."

"Fireproof and now thankfully cleaned of that slime." I ignored his advice and walked over.

"Hurts to be beautiful, doesn't it." He said casually, looking down at me as I dabbed a cottonball at the cut on his forehead. I had the tiniest of first aid kits in one of my numerous jacket pockets. And now also the tiniest of blushes gracing my scraped cheeks.

"Hey Myers." HB said over the com, surprisingly allowing me to continue patching him up, "How's the arm?"

Myers, though sounding a little frazzled, said he was fine. Then, "Where are you?"

"With your mother hen of a handler." He said. I still continued to fix him up though, stubbornly. "You think you can make it back all right without her pretty head to guide you? Sid and I are going out to celebrate."

Myers started to make a flustered appeal for us to come back or to at least take him along, but HB and I turned off our locators right on cue.

I was pretty thrilled to get away. HB swiped a six-pack from an unwitting costumed couple and we cracked two open immediately. I was about to ask where to, when I realized where we were and where this alley would eventually lead us. Stopping in my tracks, HB turned to face me with the best look of feigned innocence that handsome face can put on.

"Of course, I should have assumed the 'Sid and I' really meant 'you', and 'going out to celebrate' meant 'going to moon over Liz Sherman, so Sid can just go get white-girl-wasted at some skeezy bar by herself.'" I wasn't even going to try to hide the accusing tone from my obvious accusation. And HB wasn't able to stop from looking guilty, maybe even slightly ashamed, because I was right.

"It doesn't have to be a skeezy bar." He unsuccessfully tried to make me smile, "You aren't going to tell Myers, are you Sid?" He had either the gall, the balls, or the sheer stupidity to ask me.

"No, Red, I'm not." I answered, a little quiet now, "Because you're my friend. I'm just not sure I'm yours."

And as I stalked off away from the dumb red monkey, I couldn't be sure about the implications of the loaded word "yours".