A grey Hummer zoomed out of the bustiling tourist trap that was Puerta Mibela. The roads weren't all that great - filled with potholes and debris from the hurricane - but the off-road capabilities of the Hummer that Phil'd found during Jason had more than served the team in getting around the island. Some backroads had been carved out in the meantime, which some of the other members took in getting to and from the Fish Factory, but Grissom Montag was in too much of a hurry now to worry about taking an indirect route.
A cigarette hung limply from the ex-mercenary's thin lips as his eyes narrowed, focusing on the road before him. The heavy strains of Our Lady Peace's "Superman's Dead" played over the stereo as Grissom nervously flicked his cigarette out the window and swerved around a fallen tree trunk that hadn't yet been removed from the road.
Grissom had tried dialing up Kit as he drove, but with the road conditions being what they were, he decided it'd be better to just concentrate on driving than trying to continually calling. No one was answering over at the complex anyway and it appeared that Kit's cell was switched off. If Montag knew anything, he knew it was futile to try to contact a man who didn't want to be found...
As he drove, Griss couldn't help but think about leaving Phil alone with those agents at the complex. "Not my problem," he muttered under his breath. "Phil brought this on 'imself, I reckon..."
Besides, he thought as he continued driving, I gotta find Kit for th' Doc. Could be trouble or what, I dunno, but I don't feel so bad about leavin' with two mercenaries there to protect th' place. Charley's not all that bad a fighter, either, given th' proper tools. No reason to upset y'self, Griss. You're doin' the right thing...
Grissom sighed as he saw Piper's station wagon parked in front of the Fish Factory. That meant MBL's financial advisor was here somewhere. Grissom turned the car off and slipped out of the front seat. One of his guns slowly materialized in the back of his pants. First rule of entering a building, he thought as he walked toward the front door, never go unprepared...
The first sound to hit Grissom's ears as he entered the Factory was that of a telephone ringing in the front office. Griss rushed in, sliding to the phone and picking up the receiver. "MBL Consulting," he answered. "This is Grissom. How can I direct your call?"
"Montag!" the relieved voice of Henry Quantos answered from the other extension. "Have you found Kit yet?"
"Not yet, Doc..." Griss answered, eying Piper's closed office door. "Course, I just got here, so there's really not much I have done..."
"Right..." Quantos replied. "Forgive me. Let me know how it goes..."
"Will do," Grissom answered. "Later, Doc..."
As Grissom placed the receiver back on the 'hook', he approached Kit's door, rapping lightly on the wooden surface as he came close. No reply. Griss' gun materialized in his right hand as his left slowly turned the doorknob... only to find the door locked.
"Damn," Griss swore, backing up a few feet, readying himself. Then, getting a small running start, the Sandcrawler landed a flying leap kick into the door, knocking the thing completely off it's hinges and onto the floor.
Griss heard a slight shriek and, as he looked up, he saw the huddled form of Kit Piper on the floor by his desk with his back to Montag. His body was shaking violently. "W-what... what n-now?" he stammered, his voice moist as though he'd been sobbing uncontrollably.
"Kit," Grissom said. The portly black man looked up at the mention of his name. His tear-flooded eyes widened in surprise and relief at the sight of Grissom, but the expression was short-lived, as the man once more broke down in tears.
"Aw, Kit..." Griss said, sliding his gun into his shorts and kneeling beside the blubbering mass of man. "What'd you do, mate?"
