(( July 29, 2013 ))

"Daddy no!"

Devon Goral pulled the trigger on his Ares Predator. The mighty report from the pistol sent shockwaves through reality, freezing time itself.

"I find this whole thing extremely distasteful," Sullivan Goral announced as he observed the scene. "That girl's life is hanging my the thinnest of strings."

"It's what I do," The Protector answered, emerging from the aether and standing beside his grandfather. "Although it's rare for things to come down to the wire like this. Not my proudest day, but sometimes it's unavoidable."

The two men stood there a moment, side-by-side, examining every detail of the tableau before them. Devon (the one with the gun) stood in a textbook shooting stance, his knees bent and his arms holding the Predator out before him. He sighted his shot down the barrel of the gun and the muzzle was alight with a brilliant flash of fire. Berto Ortega stood immediately behind the Protector (and probably a little too close to the action), arms raised up in the air and a look of terror contorting his face. Devon's own expression was calm and focused, his professionalism shining through despite the damage ? a bloody gash down the left side of his face and a welt forming on his chin.

Across from the two men stood Tadayoshi Okumiya, the assassin, his mouth wide open with teeth bared. He was in the middle of a vicious scream and sweat soaked his countenance. He also showed signs of the recent fight ? cuts and abrasions around both of his eyes and nose, and a jagged jawline where he lost several teeth. With his left arm he held onto his target ? Maria Napoli. He was in the process of lifting her off the ground with his superior strength ? holding her in front of him as a human shield. In his right hand he held a small hideaway revolver buried into the fleshy side of her throat.

Maria was a slight girl of only twelve years and perhaps seven stone, so she didn't do a very good job of blocking the larger assassin's frame ? yet from Devon's perspective she was a giant flailing windmill, blocking his shot with her every jerky movement. There was no telling how much more she would contort in the fraction of a second it would take the bullet to pass through the chamber of the Predator and cut through the few meters of air between the two men.

On any other day in Devon's professional career, this would have been a difficult shot. But this day was even worse. Several weeks ago, The Protector surgically removed the cybernetic computer that allowed him to accurately target his gun with a sight he could see in his field of vision. He drilled repeatedly since then to make sure he could still aim the gun and hit his target ? with (sometimes comically-) mixed results. This was only the second time since he'd had the computer removed that he found himself firing on a person. Last time he was lucky to hit his target (although nowhere near the intended point). This time, a miss meant that his protectee would be dead. Worse, a miss meant that he would be the one to kill his protectee.

Opposite the scene from where Devon and Sullivan stood hovered a figure cloaked in the shadows of time. Devon couldn't quite make the man out, but something about his well-dressed form seemed familiar.

"You chose a profession where you have innocent lives in your hands, Devon," Sullivan declared. "This day was the inevitable result of that decision."

Devon removed his sunglasses, studying his own face and looking for any sign of weakness or hesitation. "I've lost clients before. It's not easy and their faces stay with me every day. But this one ?" he paused, turning to look at Maria's face "?this one would kill me. She doesn't deserve to die like this."

Sullivan gestured toward the shadowy figure off in the distance. "Is that who he is? A client you lost and who now haunts you?"

Devon refocused his eyes but still he could not make out the man. "I'm not sure," he answered gravely. "I can't see that far."

"Right now you're supposed to be getting on a ship to come see me," Sullivan observed omnipresently. "How did you end up here?"

"I took one last job before my trip. I thought it would be an easy one."

"And instead one assassin is dead and another one will potentially kill your client and possibly you. Assuming you don't kill her first with that bullet."

"Like I said, not my proudest day." Devon slid his sunglasses back on his face, now wishing time would move forward. He couldn't stand being locked in this prison of a moment any longer.

"And yet some things are inevitable," Sullivan concluded, his expression equally detached.

* * *

Devon Goral stepped through the doors at MilTech, one of RhyDin's many defense contractors. The lobby was unnecessarily large in order to accommodate a decommissioned fighter jet, a tank, rows upon rows of bazookas and missile launchers of every shape and size, and other displays of modern military equipment. It all seemed like the worst kind of egomania to Devon and he paid the exhibit little attention. After being passed through security (requiring the surrender of his sidearm) he was escorted to the elevator and sent up to the twelfth floor.

Alberto Ortega met The Protector at the top of the elevator with a warm smile and a firm handshake. He quickly led Devon past his receptionist and into a large corner office. He was a high-level executive at the company, responsible for sales to various warring clients in a particular dimension far-flung from anywhere Devon had traveled.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Devon politely accepted. "Scotch on the rocks, please." He had no intention of taking more than a sip. He slipped out of his longcoat and draped it over the guest chair before sitting and crossing one leg comfortably over the other.

"What do you think of our facility?" Ortega asked as he poured the drink. "It just opened at the beginning of the year. We used to work out of a drab warehouse but business has been good." He offered over the drink before sitting down in a large leather-bound chair. "I only moved into this office two months ago and I'm still decorating."

Pictures on the wall of every method of killing lots of people: check. Models on the desk and bookshelves: check. Floor-to-ceiling window looking out on the RhyDin financial district: check. Everything you'd expect from a place like this.

"Looks good," Devon answered with a smile. He took a sip of the scotch and set it on a coaster to sweat.

"Well, let's get straight to business. You were very highly referred to me."

"About that, Mr. Ortega, I should clarify that I?"

"Berto. Please call me Berto."

Devon nodded. "Berto, I no longer have a large business with several employees. I am working solo currently and I'm not sure I'm the guy you're looking for."

"Devon," Berto explained, leaning forward, "you're exactly the guy I'm looking for. My needs are very personal and very simple. I don't need to hire a full-service bodyguard company and I don't want the attention. Nor do I want to get my company involved. Devon, you're exactly what I'm looking for."

The Protector leaned back a bit in the chair, pulling out a pad of paper to take notes. "Go on."

"In several weeks I am going to close on a deal to sell more than six hundred tanks to a client of ours in a faraway dimension. I believe that one of our competitors is trying to prevent the deal by coming after me personally."

Devon nodded, taking notes. "I assume you have an internal security team that deals with these things."

"We do, and they're great. I have 'round-the-clock protection for me, my wife, and our two children. The deal will be closed in a matter of weeks and I don't expect the danger to last for long."

"So how can I be of help?"

Berto changed his expression to look more serious, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Twelve years ago I had an ? indiscretion of a personal nature. Vanessa Napoli was my secretary at the time and there was a moment of weakness. Or several. The result was a daughter, Maria. The relationship ended amicably and my wife never found out about it. Vanessa died several years ago after a long battle with cancer. I support Maria financially and I see her as often as I can." He paused, trying to look for any reaction from Devon. There wasn't one and he continued. "I'm not a perfect man, Mr. Goral, but I try to be a good father to my daughter. Revealing the truth would devastate my wife and cause problems with my children. It is what it is."

Devon nodded. "So you need me to look after the safety of Maria without alerting your family or your corporate security to her existence."

"That is correct."

"Berto, you need to be aware that in two weeks I'm leaving town. I tried to warn you about this on the phone?"

"I believe I will only need you for two weeks. Maria attends a prestigious boarding school in a far-away place, she's only here for the summer. I'm confident that once she returns to school she will be safe. Plus my deal will be concluded shortly after Maria returns to school, so there will no longer be any risk to her."

"I see."

"Devon, I've studied you, and I know your reputation. I think you're the man for this job."

"How real is the risk?"

"Very real. My competitor has ties to organized crime and they've made attempts against other people at this company. They're not reckless, but I believe that if they find an opening they'll take it."

"And how likely is it they know about Maria?"

"That's the tough part. I've taken steps to keep my relationship with her a secret. Funds for her care are kept in a trust that Vanessa managed. After Vanessa's death I arranged for Vanessa's sister Juno to administer the trust. She's a potentially weak link ? bit of a ne'er-do-well with money problems. She barely even understands who I am or what I do and I don't think she'd betray her niece."

"Berto, even giving Juno the benefit of the doubt, she could slip up without even realizing she's putting your daughter at risk. You're right that she's a weak link."

Berto smiled sincerely, despite the difficult subject matter. "Devon, I'm glad I brought you in. I need you on this. I need you to protect my daughter."

The Protector remained hesitant. "And she leaves town in two weeks?"

Berto nodded. "That's all I need you for. And hopefully this is all for nothing. But I have to know that she's safe. That some sick bastard won't use her against me."

A pause. "There are rules. I'll need a lot of information from you and it's imperative that both Maria and her aunt follow my instructions to the letter."

"Of course. Maria is a smart girl. She's a teenager and her family situation has been hard on her, so of course there's some rebellion. But her idea of 'acting out' is smoking pot and going to a midnight poetry slam. She's better-read at her age than I am now or probably ever will be. And if she keeps to her studies, she'll be running this place long after I've destroyed my body with alcohol."

Devon merely smiled at the thought.

"Do you have any children, Devon?"

"I do not. Unfortunately my career doesn't allow for it." He left out the medical issues that prevented it or the marital problems that made any hope seem remote.

"My children make life living," Berto said with a wide smile. "I'd be lost without them. All of them." A pause, then he stood and extended a hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Devon also stood, shaking the man's hand. "I'll need to give you a price quote once I've had a chance to review the particulars; but yes, I believe we have a deal. I will keep your daughter safe."

"Thank you, Devon. Thank you for taking a great weight off my shoulders."

* * *

Devon turned his attention away from himself, the shooter, and looked over at Berto Ortega. The expression of horror on the man's face would give anyone chills. He was watching his daughter in the grasp of an assassin. He was faced with the very real and immediate possibility of her death. The Protector felt himself choking up in this moment. He had to prevent this from happening. He had to save her. He promised to keep her safe.

(( August 7, 2013 ))

Devon Goral fidgeted as he stood in line at the ticket counter. He looked like hell ? unshaven, his clothes wrinkled and his hair a mess. A bandage held the left side of his face together and a welt throbbed on his chin. He hadn't slept in two days.

"I wonder, Devon, are you more or less likely to have conversations with people who aren't really there if you are sleep deprived?"

Devon ignored the man.

"Your grandfather was an odd choice, seeing as your relationship is at-best strained. I was quite impressed at some of the advice and observations he was giving you about a world he'd never experienced and couldn't possibly understand."

Devon limped forward a few steps as the next customer made her way up to the desk. It was the middle of the day and Stars End Spaceport was alive with activity. No one seemed to notice the cloud that was hanging over Devon's head. His shoulders squared and he slumped a bit, having trouble staying awake. He longed to settle down on the transport and sleep this off.

"If you're going to have conversations with people in your head, you really should choose your wife over your grandfather or even me. I wonder what that says about your marriage."

"I've had plenty of conversations with her," Devon snapped gruffly.

The man was taken aback. He was still hard to see, faint and ethereal despite the brightly-lit concourse. Shadows seemed to consume his every feature. But there was no question as to his identity.

"Well I hope you're kinder to her than you have been to me. Anyone who puts up with your brooding deserves a bit more adoration."

The ticket agent summoned Devon forward. She was an older woman, perhaps in her mid-50s, with short red hair and a distinguished face. As she beheld The Protector she practically gasped. "Are you alright, sir?"

Devon nodded, sliding forward his ticket. She took his paperwork and tapped at her computer, still eyeing him suspiciously.

"You should see the other guy," his nebulous companion said with a grimace.

* * *

The RhyDin Arms was one of the city's less-prestigious lodging institutions. Located on the outskirts of town it was home to prostitutes and drug dealers. No one would think twice about a well-dressed man staying with two young women. The Protector purchased two adjacent rooms with cash and put women in one. He set up his operation in the other and set up cameras in the parking lot and around the building. He hired Bruno for the mission and the two of them worked eight hour shifts to protect Maria and Juno Napoli from the Yakuza.

The living arrangement started out tense and degraded from there. Maria and Juno got on each others' nerves about everything ??from the grocery list to ways to pass the time (Maria insists on music from up-and-coming bands that no one's ever heard of, Juno prefers reality television). When they got tired of taking out their frustrations on each other, they turned the animus on Devon. He took it and compartmentalized as best as he could. Even when he was off-duty he often was unable to sleep ??as much as Maria and Juno were uncertain of Devon, they hated Bruno and made his life miserable. Often Devon had to intervene to break up arguments or just take over again when it wasn't his shift. He became increasingly punchy and agitated and it certainly affected his ability to do his job.

The requirement that he keep them off the grid meant other complications, as well. Devon refused to tell Berto their location, although he checked in on a secure line periodically and allowed Maria to see him. Berto's security was also increased and he was kept a virtual prisoner by his corporate bodyguards. For Devon, the difficult arrangement meant that he could not take care of personal affairs for a period of two weeks. He couldn't see his dogs, and he couldn't start packing for his trip back home. But that was all minor compared to the life of a twelve-year-old girl.

The two weeks passed by uneventful, which is to say that there were no attempted assassinations. Devon grew increasingly detached, the hallucinations increasing in frequency and intensity. He had whole conversations with his grandfather and his wife about a variety of subjects just to keep his mind active. It got to the point that he started wondering if he was imagining actual conversations with actual people ? Maria, Juno, and Bruno.

And the whole time he felt haunted by someone else, the illusory figure that had been with him ever since ? well, he wasn't sure when it started, just that he'd been there for some time now. A few times the figure tried to speak to him but Devon couldn't hear the words. Besides, he didn't have room for yet another specter. He was a busy man.

* * *

Devon Goral and his merry band reached the final evening of the assignment without incident. Tomorrow morning, he would escort Maria to a secure location where Berto would meet them and take her to her boarding school. Devon then have about an hour to run home, throw some clothes into a suitcase, and get to the spaceport to go home and visit his convalescent grandfather. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

As had become common the last few days of their incarceration, Maria was in Devon's room studying ? her books spread out over the bed. She kept her music low so as not to disturb him (he told her she could have the volume at any level, but she was far too considerate for that), but Juno was not so thoughtful. They could hear the television next door blaring one of her reality shows, something about a woman choosing her soul mate from among a dozen men she's never met. Frequently they'd hear Juno screaming something supportive or dismissive at the various characters on the screen ? often "Oh, no you didn't!" or "You go, girl!" It was maddening.

Devon, meanwhile, sat in a chair. He was trying to write another letter to Zephyer, but the right words just weren't coming to him. He was agitated and sleep-deprived and everything he wrote made him sound angry at her. He wasn't angry at her. He balled up yet another piece of paper and tossed it into a wastebasket.

Maria glanced over. "Having trouble with your homework?" she asked with a smile.

Devon chuckled, then rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. Despite everything he'd put Maria through, despite the fact that an assassin was shot to death in front of her house, she was handling things fairly well and she remained good-natured. Sure, there had been a few arguments, but she always apologized to Devon afterwards. She had come to trust him, learned to understand that he really was looking after her best interest. After two weeks of living together in close quarters, they were finally starting to understand each other.

"Just trying to write a letter," he answered. He didn't want to get into the details, but it was important that he not mislead her.

"Do people still write letters?" She scrunched up her nose.

"I do. I'm a bit old-fashioned, I guess you could say."

Her turn to chuckle. She often poked fun at some of his anachronisms. They came from two very different worlds and it was often apparent.

"I hope I wasn't disturbing your work," he continued.

She shook her head, closing up her textbook. "I think I've absorbed as much as I can. I'm full. I think I'm ready for school."

"Oh yeah? Good."

"Or maybe I'll do some more work on the plane."

They both laughed. Typical Maria.

Devon was never so studious, but other elements of her life reminded him of his. The loss of parents young in life and being sent to overachieving schools. He handled it by running away and becoming the exact opposite of what his grandparents wanted. She seemed to be adjusting better.

"Who's the letter to?" she inquired softly.

Devon glanced down, shame crossing over his face. He didn't answer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

He shook his head. "No, it's not you."

Maria hopped off the bed and walked over to the mini-fridge, producing a carton of milk. She poured herself a glass and took a sip, leaning back against the desk and watching him.

"It's a letter to my wife. I try to write to her every day, although as a practical matter I only manage three or four a week."

"Oh. Because you're on assignment? I never thought that while you were here with us, you'd be away from your family."

A particularly loud cheer came from Juno next door and Maria rolled her eyes. She was probably wishing she could be away from her family.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "I'm sorry that I'm keeping you away from your wife."

Devon shook his head. "I haven't seen her in several weeks. Well, months now." He frowned, realizing just how long it's been.

"Oh. I see."

Devon managed a reassuring smile. "It's okay."

Maria walked towards him, the glass of milk still in-hand. "My mom was always honest to me about my dad. She told me that they were never going to get married, that they would never be together. I got to see him regularly and I just figured that was normal. But as I got older I started to see how much it was hurting her." She paused, remembering. "She loved him. She wanted to be with him."

"That must have been very difficult for you."

Maria shrugged. "Maybe it was, on some level. But I'm not sure I understood my feelings at the time."

"You're only twelve, Maria. I wouldn't expect you to have a grasp on them even now."

She smirked at him, settling into the opposite chair. "Better than you think."

Devon held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay."

"I was a mistake, I know that," she continued with remarkable insight. "It kept my parents apart until my mom died. I'd have give anything to have them together. I still would."

Devon nodded. Her face told him that she meant those words with every ounce of her being.

"So what's keeping you and your wife apart?"

Devon glanced down, again the feeling of shame. "I'm not sure I can explain."

"You don't have to if you don't want."

A pause. "She and I are both very strong-willed. Sometimes it's a good combination, sometimes not. We both made mistakes. I made most of them."

"Do you miss her?"

He glanced back up. "Every day."

"My parents started seeing each other fifteen years ago. My mom died when I was nine. When I think that they spent twelve years in love with each other but unable to do anything about it ??well, it breaks my heart."

"Maria Napoli, you're one of the wisest people I've ever met," Devon said quietly. He meant it.

She smiled, then a little blush. "I'm sorry."

Devon tilted his head curiously. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

"It's none of my business. You and your wife, I mean."

"Really it's okay."

"What about your parents? Did they stay together?"

Devon felt an internal groan. This kid was managing to hit all the right buttons tonight.

"My parents passed away when I was five years old."

"Oh."

"I was raised by my grandparents," he continued, "who are still together. In fact, I'm going to visit them tomorrow."

"Do they live close?"

"Actually, no, very far away. Will take me a couple days to get there."

"What happened to your parents? Do you mind if I ask?"

Devon noticed that the shadowy figure was now standing behind Maria. He was trying to say something, but Devon couldn't make out what it was. He tried to ignore the presence but it was very nearly overpowering.

"They died in a car accident."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Devon."

He nodded and smiled. "Thank you. It was a very long time ago."

"Cancer and car accidents," she observed. "Sometimes the world really sucks."

Wisdom of a twelve-year-old.

"Yes, Maria, sometimes it does."

Maria yawned and rose from the chair. "I'm going to get ready for bed. I'll go next door."

"No, you stay here and take the room. My shift is about over and I'm going to switch with Bruno. He can just stay in his car outside."

"Where will you sleep?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

"In my car," he answered with a smile."

"Devon, this is your room. I'll go next door and ask Aunt Juno to shut off the TV."

"Nah, stay. Please. But you're right about the TV, I will ask her to lower the volume." He stood and made his way across the room.

"Devon?" she asked.

He turned. "Maria?"

A soft smile. "Thank you. For everything."

He nodded, turned, and left the motel room, locking the door behind.

Next door, Juno had fallen asleep with the TV blaring. She was laying on the bed, on top of the comforter, a bottle of beer in her hands and dangerously close to tipping over. Devon crept over to the infernal machine and slowly lowered the volume. Despite his love of technology he never understood the television, finding it crude. That this woman watched nothing but so-called 'reality' programs was yet another indictment of her character.

Satisfied that the volume was now low enough to let Maria sleep, he started back towards the door, but something caught his eye. On the table next to the door was a shopping bag from a pharmacy. But not the pharmacy nearby, and not something he purchased on his most-recent shopping trip yesterday. He stepped over to it and glanced inside, noticing bottle of medication with Juno's name on the prescription label. The label was dated today.

Devon reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small hand-held radio. "Bruno, are you there?"

"Yeah, boss. Time for my shift?"

"Did you do a pharmacy run for Juno?" Devon asked.

"Pharmacy? Nah. You did the last grocery run yesterday."

"Bruno have a look around. Be on alert."

"Sure, boss."

Devon slipped the radio into his pocket and stepped over to Juno. He placed a hand on her arm and shook her awake. She popped up with a start, letting out a yell and spilling the beer all over the comforter. After a few seconds she started to yell at Devon for waking her but he held a finger to his mouth and she kept quiet.

"Juno, the prescription on the table out there. Where did it come from?"

She was clearly still a bit disoriented from how she was woken, her eyes glancing back and forth from the bag to him.

"Juno, that prescription was filled today. How did it get here?"

"It's my diabetes medicine," she slurred. She was drunk.

"Juno," he demanded more firmly, "Where did it come from?"

"I had it delivered."

Devon gaped. "You what?"

"Don't worry, I had them bring it to the office. I didn't tell them which room I was in. I went down to the office and picked it up a couple hours ago."

Cataclysmic scenarios began racing through his head. Just at that moment, the TV mercifully shut off. As did the lights. And everything else.

* * *

Devon sat quietly in the departure area. His transport would leave in just under an hour. He didn't really understand how interdimensional travel worked ? and he didn't care to. He knew that it was a long trip and that it would be emotionally draining. Not that he had any emotions left at this point. He also knew that it would likely be his last trip home.

"I don't understand why she would have her medicine delivered to the motel without checking with you first," Sullivan said.

"Apparently my fifty warnings about not telling anyone where we were went unheeded. It was the last day, she figured the danger had passed. That's assuming she ever took the danger seriously to begin with."

Sullivan shook his head. He turned away from the coroner's table to look at Okumiya ? still holding the gun to Maria's throat in the frozen tableau. The whole scene fit neatly in the spaceport departure area. None of the travelers walking about had any idea that they were stepping through a moment of time locked motionless in The Protector's mind.

"So I assume he cut the power," Sullivan concluded.

Devon nodded. "My only saving grace is that he was working alone. Too proud to call in backup. I had him outnumbered until Bruno went down."

Sullivan walked towards the frozen Devon, looking at the determination in his face. "Alright, let's finish the story."

* * *

Within seconds of the power shutting off the room practically exploded in chaos. Heavy machine gun fire raked through the windows at the front of the room, sending a shower of sparkling glass flying inward like thousands of tiny daggers. Devon turned his back and dived on top of Juno, pulling her with him and rolling them both down to the floor behind the bed. She was screaming, but her voice was lost in the sound of things breaking and shattering all around them. Devon landed on top of her as they both thudded to the floor, debris raining down on top of them.

The onslaught lasted perhaps thirty seconds but it seemed to go on forever. Devon waited patiently for his chance, praying to everything he held dear that Maria had enough street smarts to seek cover. Once the gun ran dry he lifted Juno off the ground and carried her into the bathroom, where he dumped her unceremoniously into the bath rub.

"Stay here!" he commanded. "Don't move until I come back for you!"

She was crying uncontrollably and was still disoriented and The Protector grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Do you understand what I am saying?"

Finally she nodded and he left her there, closing the bathroom door behind.

Heavy machine gun fire resumed from outside, but it wasn't directed at the motel room. Devon reached for his radio but found that it had been crushed when he jumped on top of Juno. He drew his Ares Predator and made his way towards the front.

Bullets again began hitting the room and Devon dove behind the television stand. The TV itself exploded into a few thousand tiny pieces, raining chaos over him. The gunfire continued to rake over the motel room, destroying anything that the first attack left standing. Devon again waited, counting the seconds until the gun would run out of ammunition.

Noting the metal TV stand (very classy, RhyDin Arms), Devon readied his move. He holstered his weapon, predicted accurately when the weapon stopped, lifted the stand in the air, and charged out onto the outside walkway, holding the stand before him as a shield.

The stand was not bullet proof, of course, and Devon was immediately noticed by the assailant. But lacking time to reload his heavy machine gun, the attacker switched to a pistol and begin popping shots at Devon. The TV stand provided just enough cover for him to sidestep over to Maria's room and crash through the locked door. He felt a sharp pain in his side and knew he had been hit, but there was no time for that.

Maria's room had also been hit with heavy machine gun fire and was in tatters. He quickly located the girl sobbing behind the bed. She was unharmed but frightened out of her mind. As The Protector scooped her up into his arms the machine gun fire resumed ? but this time from a smaller caliber weapon. He had no choice but to shield her body with his, his Kevlar vest taking most of the hits that slammed into his back. As the room destructed around them he carried her into the bathroom and set her carefully into the bathtub. Bullets continued to breach the wall around her and he covered her with his longcoat. His eyes said all he needed ? or could ? as he instructed her to stay put and keep her head down. She was so afraid.

As was he.

With his protectee momentarily secured, Devon turned and crept back towards the front of the motel room, staying low. He drew his Predator and narrowed his eyes, ready to do battle. His body screamed out in pain from multiple bullet strikes (either around his armor or directly into it) but he shook that out of his mind. No time for pain.

Eventually The Protector reached the walkway outside of the room and he peeked over. The gunfire had stopped and the parking lot was suddenly alive with people evacuating their rooms, piling into their cars, and fleeing on top of screeching tires. He couldn't make out any sign of the shooter or Bruno. A jeep sat brazenly in the middle of the parking lot with a fifty caliber machine gun bolted to the top, empty ammo boxes scattered on all sides. No subtlety here.

Devon estimated that local security forces or bounty hunters would arrive in about ten minutes. He needed to last at least that long. Carefully he snuck back into Juno's room and could hear her crying from the bathroom. He didn't have time to make a visual ID.

Hearing the sound of a foot on glass he spun around, his gun leveled. To his surprise, there was Berto, standing in the doorway, his mouth agape. All color had drained from the man's face.

"What are you doing here? Where's are your bodyguards?" Devon demanded.

"I got your call. You said Maria was in danger and to get down here right away. I ditched my security."

Devon squared his jaw and charged out of the room. "I didn't call you." He pushed past his client and back towards Maria's room. Bruno was coming towards them down the walkway, his pistol in his hand. He had been hit and was bleeding from the arm.

"How many?" Devon asked.

"Just one. I jumped him but he got away from me and I lost him."

"Alright, I'm not waiting here any longer, this is a trap. Get Juno and we're leaving."

Just then, two bullets whizzed past Devon's arm and struck his colleague in the chest. Bruno didn't even see it coming and flew back in the air, crumpling on the walkway behind. Devon spun around, pushing Berto into Juno's room to get him out of danger. The Protector didn't get a look at the assassin before the man crashed into him, sending them both to the ground.

The two wrestled around on the pavement for a few seconds, each trying to grab for the Predator. Just as Devon was about to reach his gun the man pulled him away and slammed him into the railing ? almost sending him over the edge. Devon turned and connected with the man's face with a powerful punch, sending him staggering back. He charged back into the fray and the two pounded each other with fists in the face and arms. Devon managed a snap-kick and send the assassin back, only to return to the fight with a knife. The Protector dodged the first two swings but the third one caught him in the face, cutting a gash into his left cheek. Devon let out a grunt, stumbling back into the railing ??momentarily dazed.

The assassin pressed the attack but Berto charged at him, grabbing his arm and twisting it with great force until the knife slipped from his grasp and clattered over the edge of the walkway down to the parking lot below.

"You would come after a man's daughter!" Berto shouted. "Your problem is with me, you come after me!"

The assassin elbowed Berto in the face, sending him staggering back. He then drew a small hideaway revolver from a leg holster and pursued his target.

"Daddy, no!" came a shout from inside the nearby motel room, causing everyone to turn. Maria had left her safe place and was watching in horror as an assassin was preparing to murder her father in front of her.

Devon, finally regaining his focus, scooped up his Ares Predator from the pavement and fired but the shot went wide. The assassin ducked into the hotel room and grabbed Maria before she could retreat. He plunged the revolver into her neck, turning to face Berto and Devon. He bared his teeth and howled as Devon moved into the room. Berto ran up behind Devon, a look of anguish flooding his face as he watched his daughter moments from potentially losing her life.

Devon had only a split second to save both of their lives. He planted his feet, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The mighty report from the pistol sent shockwaves through reality, freezing time itself.

* * *

"Why didn't the assassin kill Berto when he had the chance?" Sullivan asked.

"He may not have known who he was. In my experience, assassins are given a specific target and not a lot of background. This guy was there to kill Maria, not Berto."

Sullivan approached the motionless scene. "So why not kill Maria the moment he saw her? He had a chance."

"The whole thing only took a few seconds. And maybe he thought he could still get out of this alive. I don't know. I never had the chance to ask him."

"Poor girl."

Devon frowned. "Aye, poor girl."

* * *

The Predator's bullet cut through through the air effortlessly and cut through Tadayoshi Okumiya's head like a hot bullet through butter. The force of the hit knocked him away from Maria, his gun flying out of his hand and landing safely on the floor. Maria screamed as blood spilled over her but she was unharmed. When it counted, Devon Goral did not miss.

Berto Ortega cried out in joy. He did not have a chance to embrace his daughter, however. Just as he took a step towards her, an assassin's bullet tore through his chest from behind. The bullet passed through him and struck Devon in the thigh, catching him by surprise mere moments after shooting Okumiya.

Berto and Devon both went down. Maria screamed.

* * *

"A different assassin," Sullivan concluded gravely. "They lured Berto to the motel once they found out she was there and killed him."

The Protector nodded slowly. "I knew he was at risk the moment he showed up. But I couldn't do it all. I couldn't protect Maria, Juno, and Berto."

The tableau faded away, leaving them alone in the spaceport terminal. Everything else, both real and imagined, seemed to fade away.

"Devon, this must be very hard for you," Sullivan acknowledged. "I can't possibly imagine."

Devon just hung his head. He kept hearing Maria's voice calling out to her father. Daddy, no! He promised to keep her safe, and instead she watched her father die.

"What will happen to the girl?" the shadowy figure asked from the next seat over.

"Her tuition is paid for," Devon answered. "She'll get to go to school and hopefully she'll be able to keep her head together. I told her she could call on me if she ever needs anything. And she has her aunt, hopefully Juno will get her head on straight after all of this."

For a moment the three men floated there in silence. Devon was overwhelmed with grief and guilt and exhaustion.

Daddy, no!

"The same thing you said when you saw your mother and me in the car," the figure pointed out. "That day when you were taken from us."

"At least he had us," Sullivan observed. "He wasn't alone."

"He felt alone," the figure countered. "He didn't belong in your world."

"Your world got you killed. At least with us he stayed safe."

"Enough!" Devon shouted. "Damn you specters!"

The two men paused their argument, staring at his outburst in surprise. Devon awkwardly stood up from his seat ? he could barely stand and the bullet wound in his thigh ached. Slowly he regarded each of them in turn, his grandfather and his father, before walking away from them both.