Two days had passed since they found out where the Indians went and Ryan was chomping at the bit to go after them. If it were up to him the military reserves and Agents would be walking north right now. Unfortunately he's not in charge so they've told him to wait for approval from Ottawa. The only plus he saw in that would be the use of helicopters.

So they sent him home to his apartment and told him to be patient which was not a word in his vocabulary. He played hours upon hours of video games, worked out with the weights and went a few rounds with the speed bag in the corner. The whole situation was irritating to him.

When the sun went down on the second night, Ryan put on his good outfit, black T-shirt, jeans with a knee length leather jacket and headed out into the city. His destination was The Den, a bar almost down town on Hastings Street. It was one of the darker bars that played heavy rock to metal type music. Ryan wasn't a fan but the bar served a purpose for him.

It was only ten o'clock but the place was already packed with people in leather and jeans dancing around, drinking and shouting at each other. Most of the people were heavily pierced, hair dyed different shades of colours, and had tattoos related to death on display. By comparison Ryan looked like an uptight suburbanite that took a wrong turn somewhere but he was also the only person there that had actually committed mass murder.

Ryan spotted who he was looking for at the bar sipping her beer. She was chatting with some skin-head with a swastika tattooed on the side of his head. Her name was Allison and she dressed in heeled boots, a tight black skirt that went just above her knees and a blouse that was all cleavage. Her dark hair was slicked back down to her ass.

Ryan moved up to the bar between Allison and the skinhead. He held up a small vial of cocaine. "How about you come hang out with me?"

Allison tilted her head and smiled. The skinhead had the opposite reaction. "Hey, the girl’s with someone."

"Yeah, how about you fuck off." Ryan made a suggestion, not a question.

"Or maybe I kick your ass."

"Yeah?" Ryan turned fully to the other and sized him up. The skin-head had more bulk and a few inches on him.

"Don't man, don't mess with this one." The Skinhead’s friend said from the other side of him.

"Yeah, listen to your friend." Ryan said and turned back to Allison.

"Hey buddy..." The Skinhead grabbed Ryan's shoulder to turn him around. Ryan grabbed Allison's beer bottle and spun around so it smashed over the guys' tattoo. Ryan dropped the remains of the bottle and started punching the other man until he was on the ground covered in blood. The skin-head curled up to protect his head.

Ryan stepped back and wiped his fists off as he noticed others in the area watching him. He smiled and turned back to Allison. "So?"

"Yeah."

Allison's apartment was on the fifth floor of a pay by the week building a few blocks away. It was a bedroom with a kitchen built into it while the living room was a chair and television in the corner. The place was a mess of clothes and papers. The walls had posters taped up and pamphlets pushing the white race.

The sex was like the rest of his night, fast and violent. Ryan wasn't there for companionship, he was there to get out his built up aggression and Allison was good for that. She loved it.

Afterwards she was spread out on the bed, as he got dressed while he looked over the pamphlets.

"We're getting there." Ryan chuckled as he pulled on his shirt.

"They've said that before," She said, rolling to look at him. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"When? When did they say that?" Ryan looked at her as she laid on her back again.

"Oh, a hundred years ago. British Columbia was on its way to being a whites only province. Laws were in place, they had rules so we could keep chinks out and Indians in their place." Allison sighed, "It must've been paradise."

Ryan crawled on the bed toward her, sucking on her nipple before he moved up to kiss her on the lips. "It will be again."

"Like I said." She said. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Ryan smirked, kissed her again and headed back to his own place.

Ryan stretched out on his bed but didn't fall asleep until two in the morning. He woke up when his phone rang three hours later.

The word from back east was 'go.'

Ryan knocked on the front door of Mark’s house a few hours later. This time he was dressed in more comfortable wear for the outdoors but still dark colours. He also held a carton with three cups of coffee on it. This he presented to Amanda when she answered the door. "I come bearing gifts."

"It's the weekend." Amanda said. She was in shorts and a blouse for working in the yard.

"Some things can't wait until Monday." Ryan stepped into the house. "Where's the big guy?"

"Kitchen." Amanda followed Ryan as he moved through the house. "Is it something big?"

"Oooh my dear," Ryan turned back to her. "We're about to fix all our problems today." He spun around again and went into the kitchen where Mark sat at the island eating a ham sandwich.

"Hey?" Mark said as he looked up.

"Come on guy, get dressed. We're going hunting." Ryan put the coffee in front of Mark, who looked to Amanda.

"It's the weekend, we don't schedule hunts on the weekend."

"We do when it's this big. We've got forty agents of our own, another fifty coming in from Edmonton, seven hundred reserves and we're all going up the river by boat. And I want you there up front. So get dressed, get your game face on and we'll hit the road."

"Alright." Mark agreed, standing up and wolfing the last of his food down.

"Hold on, no." Amanda stepped forward. "He's not ready to go out again. He's still healing."

"It's not going to be dangerous." Ryan stated.

"No, a bunch of armed men out in the bush hunting other armed men, that doesn't sound dangerous at all." Amanda gave Ryan a sarcastic look.

"See, this is why I'm not married."

"Yeah, this is the reason, darling." Amanda looked to Mark. "You're still not breathing right. I can hear it when you're sleeping."

"I'm fine," Mark raised his shirt. The bruising was purple and yellow now. "Fine enough to ride a boat."

Mark started for the living room as Amanda looked to Ryan, but he only shrugged back at her. Amanda followed Mark up stairs as Ryan picked at the food that was left on the counter while he waited.

He moved into the living room and wondered if he could pull off the life in the suburbs, a wife, kids, picket fence and maybe a dog. The more he thought about it though the more he was bored by the idea, being stuck in one place, sleeping with the same woman night after night. Even the thought of kids bugged him. He had two already and from what he saw of them he wouldn't have the patience.

Amanda came down the stairs with Mark behind her as she went up to Ryan. "You make sure he stays safe. I like the idea of him staying on the boat and mopping up after if he has to."

"No, he's safe. I'll watch his back." Ryan was wide eyed honest.

"And this is necessary?"

"Yes." Mark answered as he put on his jacket. "There's a psycho out there, and if we don't take him out he's going to keep trying to kill us. And whether I want to or not doesn't matter, this is what I have to be doing. So please, just...just let me go."

"Okay." Amanda agreed but like she had been shot. "Be safe."

"Thank-you," Mark kissed her but she gave him her cheek. He paused and nodded to Ryan. The two of them left the house and headed for the car.

"She's a bitch today?" Ryan said as he started the car.

"That's my wife." Mark put his foot down.

"I'm just saying, why are you letting her tell you what you can and can not do. That's messed up."

"Just drive the car." Mark settled in for the long drive.