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In their fully equipped black combat uniforms, Zack Allan and Sean Flynn waited on the word from Smith. Allan kept shivering for some reason.

"What's wrong?" Flynn asked. Allan's shaking about threatened to give away their position.

"I gotta take a leak."

"Then go."

"I don't wanna have you left here on your own."

"Don't worry about me Zack, I'd personally be more worried about my package exploding before you can empty it." Flynn took a quick look around, "Beside, this dust shipment probably won't be here by the time you get back."

"Are you sure?" Flynn stared back his friend. "OK, OK. I'm going."

Flynn watched as Allan left then scene, then twisted himself back to watch the perimeter for any sign of Deuce and his cronies.

"Well, well, well," a voice suddenly called out. "What do we have here?"

Flynn twisted around to see a metal bar smash across his face, then nothing but black.

In the darkness, Flynn struggled to break free of the wires binding him to the desk. A quick slap across the cheek quickly brought all his senses back to him.

A man with a Southern accent started speaking to at least three or four others. Flynn was usually good at calculating in the dark, but his attack had left him dizzy.

Deuce walked up and ripped the blindfold off Flynn's face. "Welcome to hell."

"You son of a bitch!" Flynn shouted. "I'll get you for this."

"Please, there's no need for such pleasantness around here." Deuce took a few steps back as a much larger bald man took his place, and nailed Flynn with several jabs to the stomach.

"What do you want from me?"

"I do not like people interfering with my importations, Mr. Flynn"

"Life's a bitch."

The bald man struck Flynn again in the stomach. "Open him up," Deuce ordered the others.

Four men held Flynn down as he struggled to free himself. The large bald man grabbed his head and opened his mouth up. Deuce returned to Flynn with a sachet. "Her we go, my little friend. A gift from the people on this station you've put away."

Deuce began pouring the contents of the sachet down Flynn's throat. Dust!

"AAAAGGGHH!!" Flynn screamed as loud as he could, until everything went dim and finally blinked out again.

"Are you sure about this, man?"

A long-haired man with a London accent and the large bald man carried Flynn's limp body through Brown Sector.

"Look. What problem do you have with this plan? We dump the body in Garibaldi's office while Deuce has him out on a call. We dump it there then leave, do you have a problem with this?"

"No, but he'll be awake soon. And mighty pissed when he figures out what happened to him."


The bald man pulled a small black stick out of his pocket, and placed it in the card receiver port. With a swooshing sound, the door to Security Central opened.

"Let's leave him here," the London guy said. "Garibaldi'll be back soon."

"Fine." The two dropped the unconscious carcass in the corner of the office, where the Security Chief was likely to see it when he returned from his wild goose chase.

"I hear him comin', man." The Londoner ran off, closely followed by his mate.

"Damned lurkers wasting my time with their--" Garibaldi's voice trailed off as he pushed in his ID card to get back to proper work.

When he entered his office, he saw Flynn out cold in the far corner. Garibaldi quickly ran over to assist Flynn.

"Come on, Flynn, snap out of it." Garibaldi slapped Flynn across the face, hoping to wake him from his slumber. Flynn's eyes slowly raised, and he was instantly fully alert. He grabbed Garibaldi on each arm, and unknowingly started a joy ride through his boss's mind.