PING

Bridget rolled over in her bed and draped her arm across Mac's bare chest. The air horn woke her, as usual, at 5AM. She snuggled up to him for a moment as his eyes fluttered open. "Good morning." she said as their eyes met. He smiled at the sight of her lovely face as he stretched.

"Good morning, yerself." he replied. "We got time for a little breakfast?" he asked, his hand lazily travelling up and down her back. She grinned as she shook her head. He let his hand travel down to the swell of her ass, gave it a good squeeze, and sighed when she patted his chest before sliding out from under the wool blanket. He watched her nude form travel to the bathroom before closing it. He grunted as he sat on the edge of the bed. His muscles were pretty sore from using her. "No, that's not right. I didn't use her. We had sex." he thought, realizing there was a difference for the first time. He chuckled to himself as he started hearing the squeaky spring from the bathroom.

As he dressed himself, he kept looking at the door. "What am I doing?" he said to himself. "Why am I nervous..." he wondered as he wiped sweat from his palm. When the door opened and she emerged nude save for her bandana and a toothbrush hanging from her mouth, he felt his stomach flutter.

"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" Bridget asked after rinsing her mouth in the kitchen sink. He suddenly blushed, and scrambled to get his shirt buttoned. She approached her wardrobe and pulled out her last clean outfit: a tiny white tank top that just barely covered her breasts and little else, a tight black leather shorts with the usual access cuts, and her tanker boots.

"I ugh... sorry." he mumbled. His mind quickly solidified onto a course of action that couldn't explain as his mouth starting forming words faster than he could consciously control them. "Hey, I'd ugh.. I'd like to see you again." he said; cursing himself as he said them. She smiled warmly at him and shrugged.

"Why not? That was fun." Bridget replied. He stood, putting his hands in his pockets as he tried and failed to find the best way to say what he wanted to say.

"No, I mean yeah, but I meant..." he said. She turned to look at him. He was looking around nervously, unable to meet her lovely green eyes. "You wanna go out for a movie or somethin?" Bridget's eyes went wide.

"You're asking me on a date?" she said, flattered and amused by the offer. He fumbled with his keychain in his pocket.

"Yeah. Yeah like a date. Mamma keeps tellin' me to find a nice Catholic girl." he said with a nervous laugh. Bridget looked him up and down. He seemed nice enough, but she wasn't sure she'd have the time. She never did. She tilted her head, coming to a conclusion.

"I'm sorry, Malcolm; but I've got a ton of work to do and..."she said as his shoulders sank. He nodded quietly as he headed for the door. She felt terrible for rejecting him; but in truth he just wasn't her type.

"How about lunch, then. On me." he said. She smiled at his persistence.

"Well, you already know where the shop is. Swing by in a couple of days." she finally offered. His eyes lit up as a smile parted his face.

"Great! I know this great chili place that uses current year rations. Best chili in Diesel City." he said excitedly. She opened the door for him wordlessly, a slight grin on her lips. "Right. You gotta go. Hell, I gotta go!" he blurted out as he shuffled passed her. "Goodbye kiss?" he said, bracing himself against the doorframe.

"Not if you are going to ask every time." she purred. He took two deep breaths and leaned in to kiss her. Bridget insinuated her body against his and placed her hands on his chest as their lips and tongues entwined. She relaxed into the intimacy of the moment before firmly, but gently shoving him out of her apartment.

"I'll see ya' Wednesday!" he called back to her as he quickly ascended the steps. Bridget closed the door behind him, slightly confused as to how she was going to handle having a guy tripping over his feet over her. It was a sensation she was somewhat unfamiliar with. She knew how to handle men who wanted her body as every woman did; but Mac obviously wanted something else. He wanted her.

....................................................................

Elliot picked up an apple with his prosthetic hand and examined it. He tossed it in the air and caught it before placing it back on the fruit rack at the market before deciding on buying grapes instead. The old man rang him up as he peeled two US dollars from his money clip. The old man handed him his grapes.

"Anything else, Mr Stone?" he asked. The old man had a full head of stark white hair and bloodshot blue eyes. Elliot glanced to the front door before replying.

"Did the special item I ordered arrive yet?" he asked, tilting the thick wad of bills in his fingers idly. The old man swallowed hard.

"Stevie, watch the counter." he directed to the bag boy sweeping up spilled grain from a battered and leaking government burlap sack. He then nodded for Elliot to follow him into the attached storage room. Elliot followed wordlessly as they approached a large wooden crate labeled "Porridge-100lbs-1953" and "Inspected" with no "passed" stamp on it. The old man pried the top of the crate open with a crowbar and lifted it off. Inside sat a barely recognizable mass of twisted metal that had once been a Bombadier R.A.I.D system. He saw that it wasn't just a harness, but special boots, chest armor, braces, and heat resistant material as well. The word "Scrap" was spraypainted on the chassis. He grimaced. The Brits and Americans were absolutely fanatical about these systems; often losing a number of men to retrieve or destroy the units. He knew the handful they had captured had been immediately squirreled away in some SS research facility, never to be seen from again. This was the best he could hope for.

"Das ist Gut." he said as he handed the remainder of his money clip to the old man. "Have your man deliver it to this address." Elliot turned to walk away from the shop owner.

"Wait! What about my son?" the old man asked with a quiver in his voice. Elliot turned slowly, his inhuman eye staring into the clerk's. The man stepped back as Elliot ominously approached him. He sat his mouth in a stern grimace and did not speak for a long time.

Suddenly, a smile broke his face as he patted the old man hard on the shoulder. "Of course. A deal's a deal; as they say. He will be released from the labor camp and sent to Auschwitz for his exit processing; and your payment will be more than enough for his passage here."

"...And my granddaughter?" the old man asked with watery eyes. Elliot scoffed.

"You see, this is problem with you Americans, you always want more. Your little Cindy will be quite a bit more difficult to secure; so I will be needing to retain your services for some time. She has proven to be pleasingly fertile. Oh, you have three great grandchildren, by the way; all in the Youth program. Little Klaus is especially eager to liberate this country. Oh, you should see how he bashes and clangs his toy tanks and airplanes together. Congratulations; and good day."

Elliot left him there, tears rolling down his face. He hopped in his car, and began the long drive back to his comfortable home. The man's son was long dead, of course; but the news of his Granddaughter was true enough. They'd been captured on a sealiner leaving Sweden a number of years ago; and were just two of thousands of prisoners the Stadt kept for blackmailing people within Allied territory. Old Man Jansen, it turned out; used to run moonshine once he'd moved to America as a boy after the Great War; and in his youth and had quite a useful network of "reformed" criminals and smugglers to draw from.

Elliot pulled into his driveway, careful to avoid Aubrey who it seems couldn't peddle fast enough to evade his neighbor, Lee Templeton, from finally getting his hands on her. Lee held her squirming hips in place as he stroked himself to erection; the teen gritting her teeth and pushing on his wrists as he wedged himself between her pale legs. He thrusted forward hard and speared her young, tight body. Aubrey grimaced as Elliot approached them, casually popping grapes into his mouth.

"Lee." he said as way of greeting. The slightly balding, well dressed man craned his neck and shielded his eyes from the Sun.

"Oh, hey Elliot." he said as his cock slid in and out of the man's daughter. Aubrey pouted as he began roughly groping her still growing breasts through her floral dress.

"Aubrey. Be nice to Mr Templeton." Elliot cautioned. She let out an angry huff, but stopped struggling.

"Mom was right. This is gross." she said as she spread her legs wider for him. Elliot chuckled as he walked by. Cynthia was standing in the doorway sipping on a lemonade. He nodded once. She turned and walked with him into the den. Once there, he pulled out his transmitter and began his encoded message. Soon, Berlin would have a much better understanding of not only the R.A.I.D gear; and not a moment too soon...

..........................................................................

Special Agent Joe Moody sat in the back of a fake delivery truck with his equipment. His team had been canvassing a 20 square mile area for nearly 17 hours. He started questioning the wisdom of the service to not pair men and women on these listening assignments as Special Agent Brian Huerta was even looking good to him right now.

PING

Moody sat up, a single blip on his screen. He turned two knobs to focus in on the location. the blip was fading fast. "C'mon, c'mon... just one more...."

PING

"Yes!" he exclaimed. He stared at the new fading blip as Huerta scrambled to find the right map.

"Melville neighborhood. We got em' Joe." Huerta said with a clap of his hands. Moody, on the other hand; saw only more work. None of the women on his suspect's list lived anywhere close to there.

"Get yer hat. We're gonna have to pound the pavement on this one." Moody said; looking at hundreds of bars, stores, and theaters in the area. This wasn't going to be easy, unless they caught a lucky break.