Episode 017 Previous Episode	Next Episode
“Who needs courage when you have a gun?” Professor Hubert J. Farnsworth, Futurama The sky was the color of a television tuned to a boring station. Everett leaned against the brick wall, his arms crossed as he stared up at the endless expanse of sky above him. The stars were absent from the featureless sky as the urban wind swept in between the cracks of the buildings and down along the city streets. Mesmerized by the textureless world above him, he stared at it as if pondering the universe. To his left, the music from Club Perdition oozed out like a foul stench. The lights from the partially-bustling club created shadows along the entire alley. He turned as Sydney came up next to him, popping open a soda bottle. “I got a question,” she said, tearing open a bag of peanut butter crackers. “Why did you pick these spots?” “Best coverage,” Everett said. “The Rose usually operates within a mile of this area. With everybody stationed where they are, if we pay attention, there’s almost no way we’ll miss him.” Sydney held a cracker between her teeth and adjusted her food. “Speaking of paying attention,” she said, getting out her cell phone. She flipped it open, the tones of an old Star Trek communicator echoing with it. “Red Leader to Gold Leader, come in Gold Leader.” “Am I Gold Leader?” Edgar asked as he waited in an alley between the two clubs. “I can’t remember?” “I think I’m Gold Leader,” Roland said as he looked down the multi-story side of the parking deck. “I remember Ledger called Skull Leader.” “Damn straight,” Ledger said, sitting on a stop out front of a forgotten-about housing project. He was about to say more when he noticed three Latin thugs approaching. “Hold up,” he said into the phone. As they came close enough into the light, he held up his sawed-off shotgun, the barrel aimed steadily in between the eyes of the lead goon. “Not tonight, boys,” he said. Giving them a few steps to back away, he went back to his phone. “I saw two guys from rival gangs shooting it out. It was kinda stupid. Neither one hit the other. They ran out of bullets.” “Yeah, I’ve seen a car speeding off, chased by the cops,” Roland reported as well. “Nothing unusual, I’d say. Except that the cops actually responded to a crime in this area of town. Aside from that, nothing’s been going on.” “Edgar?” Sydney asked. “Well, neither club seems too concerned about checking IDs,” he reported. “I’ll be damned if some of these girls aren’t underage. I bet a few of them are even high school girls.” “Don’t doubt it,” Roland remarked with a hint of sentimental concern. “Okay, keep alert and keep in touch,” Sydney said. “Out.” She turned to Everett as he dialed his phone. “Armand,” he said. “Hey, it’s Ev. See anything?” “Not really,” Armand said as he sat outside the Laundromat. “I’ve got two loads done already and my third’s going to be…” “Are you actually doing your clothes?” Everett exclaimed, causing Sydney to chuckle. “I’m not doing anything else,” he started to say. “Whoa, hold up,” he said quietly. He backed up around the edge of the building, disappearing into the subtle change of building fronts. Across the street, a young woman came sprinting out of the darkness. Her high heels clacking loudly, she ran as fast as she could. “Something’s going on,” Armand reported. As he spoke, two men turned the corner after her. Both running full tilt, they were quickly gaining on her. “HELP!!!” the woman screamed, exhaustion and terror in her voice. “HELP!!!” “There’s a woman,” Armand said frantically. “She’s being chased.” Everett was about to speak, but Sydney grabbed his phone. “Don’t do it, Armand,” she said. “But she’s…” he said just before the closer of the two thugs grabbed her hair. Yanking her backwards, he stopped her cold. Her feet went out ahead of her and she slammed painfully down onto the sidewalk. “Guys,” Armand whispered. The second man jumped down onto her legs, holding her. When she tried to scream, the first man holding down her arms pinned her mouth shut with his hand. She started to buck, fighting them, but the second man punched her hard in the stomach. Armand could hear the wet smack of flesh against flesh across the street. “Guys,” he whispered again. “Don’t do it,” Everett said. “The Rose.” “To hell with the Rose,” Armand said before flipping his phone closed. He reached into his trench coat and drew out his brand. The steel blade glinted in the low city light as Armand readied the weapon, preparing to attack. But before he could move, a red and black shadow descended on the two men.
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