Sorry about taking so long for this chapter, but things have been absolutely out of control on my end of things. I can't promise that things will get done any quicker in the future, but I can say I will not give up on this series. Anyways, here's chapter two of my very M rated Knives. -Kyle Castorena

After the pair had disappeared, but before the blood had even dried, a Mercedes Benz pulls up to the scene of the accident. It's lone occupant, an elderly man with graying hair, stepped outside and scanned the carnage. He looked over the lumps of flesh that were once passengers inside the vehicle, and then quickly disregarded them without the slightest bit of interest. The man came right to the side of the corpse that was once Lucas, but was careful not to step in the puddle of blood that was still leaking from his back. He got as close as he could and peered at the wound, but it only took a few seconds until that too no longer held his interest.

There were footsteps traced with blood. A person from not to long ago stood right next to the dead and then walked away. From the shape of the print, the footwear must have been from a woman, platform boots if he was not mistaken. It looked as though she walked around in circles for a little bit, then began to walk away. The tracks ended just a couple feet away from a disembodied head. There were still drops that indicated which direction she made her exit. She hadn't left by car, but by motorcycle. Not as though that deduction made the slightest bit of difference, but the elderly man was proud his skills from his detective days hadn't dulled since he left the service from what seemed a life-time ago.

Rebecca del Rio didn't own a motorcycle, and she didn't have a motorcycle license either. There was a rare chance she stole the bike and somehow made an escape, but it was more likely she received aid. A Good Fucking Samaritan. That was the last thing he wanted to deal with. The elderly man produced a cell phone from his breast pocket and hit a speed dial.

"...Deputy Commissioner?" a voice gurgled after eight rings.

"Lucas is dead."

"What? Holy shit. Any sign of Rebecca?"

"Looks like she got away."

"Fuck. Containment?"

"Not a chance," the Deputy Commissioner grunted into his cell.

"Damnit! What are we going to do?"

"About the death? Nothing."

"But what if someone goes digging what he was into? They could find out about what we're doing!"

"Don't worry about that. Lucas was just a stupid street nigger. No one gives a damn what he was doing. This shit won't even make it to the newspaper."

"But he was an Afghanistan Vet…"

"Did you forget the Dishonorable Discharge? The army doesn't even want to the keep the record of his service. No one would be interested in his death. I'm more worried about what to do about Rebecca. If what's in those files gets out...I don't even want to think about it."

"But we can't just cancel the shipment, not this one."

"Yeah I know. This was the worse time for something like this to happen. If it had been any sooner or later, we could have covered our asses. Not to mention that Black's involved with this shipment. We can't piss that Clitless Bitch off."

The other side of the line remained silent, undoubtedly going over the repercussions in his mind.

"Anyways, if something new comes up I'll be sure to let you know."

After her eyes had completely adjusted to the darkness, Vivian found that it was not all that difficult to see the road without headlights. Undoubtedly wearing a tinted visor at night would help Grey's eyes adapt at a quicker pace. By now he must have had the sight of a cat. But all that aside, there was absolutely no explanation, that Vivian could think of, why this man would be waiting in the dead of night with a stealth motorcycle.

The pair traveled for what seemed like 45 minutes. Grey was leading them to the Los Angeles Downtown Industrial District down Alameda Street. Vivian has lived in Southern California for her entire life, and she knew this area just about as good as any. That is to say, she had no clue what went on down here. Truth was that this district was the hub of the food chains in So-Cal. It was the second largest produce market in the United States generating annual revenues of 2 billion. What business Grey had down here was anybody's guess.

Coming to a halt to what seemed like some random building, Grey hit the kickstand and headed for the door. It wasn't locked, and the man opened it with the greatest of ease. Vivian was on stand-by on the motorcycle, not willing to budge unless she received an explanation. Apparently she wasn't willing to trust him yet.

After taking a exaggerated deep breath, the man explained, "This is an abandoned warehouse. The company was sold off after the president died over ten years ago. The thing is, this building was purchased right before his death, and afterwards everyone pretty much forgot about it. However, it's still under lease until 2012. So for another eight years no one's going to touch this place." Once again, how Grey knew this was anyone's guess.

Vivian left the comfort of the bike and slowly accepted the man's invitation. On the inside it was just what one would expect from an abandoned warehouse, big and empty. Despite that it was currently June, inside the building it was as cold as a January morning. She said that she wanted to sleep, but was that even possible in this condition? The woman watched the man as he traveled not too far from the door and sat down leaning against a wall. He motioned to her to take a seat next to him. Grey couldn't be serious, could he?

"It'll be warmer if we sleep together." His words could have been easily misinterpreted, but the woman knew what he meant. Still, huddling up together for warmth wasn't going to help her sleep. The major problems was that she could be very comfortable sleeping like that, and that being that close to this man still left her a little edgy.

Vivian elected to lay down on the opposite side of the door, far away from the man. This would have been a much more comfortable position for the woman, as she had slept this way since the day she was born. Not counting the times she passed out drunk in other, more compromising, positions. She hadn't realized it before, but the floor was freezing. What the hell? Why was the floor so cold? Wasn't heat supposed to rise from the ground?

She rolled around a few times to get into a comfortable position, but this chill was too much for her to bare. As she was trifling around, her shoulder touched to wall. It was warm. The reason why it was so cold inside the warehouse, and warm outside was two. One, sunlight doesn't reach inside here as it does outside, and that heat is equally spread out through the wide building. Two, there are no sewage lines running underneath the building, but there are some outside under the street, incidentally right underneath where Grey parked his motorbike. Heat from human waste rises from the lines to the streets, thus adding another 5 or so degrees to the temperature. But the only thing Vivian understood was that the wall was warm.

So that's why he sat like that, Vivian thought. She pushed herself up and sat in the same position her companion had. Still, the woman was used to sleeping like this, but it was much better than lying on the cold floor. The cold air entering her lungs, the warmth applied through the wall, in actuality, it was very comfortable. It kind of felt like she was being smothered. It brought back memories of when she was a child. When it was January, and the air was cold, her and her sister would sleep together. That was back when their mother was still alive, and every once and awhile she would join them as well. Those were some of the best nights sleep she ever had.

Some warmth hit her face, and through her closed eyelids she began to see red. Vivian slowly opened her eyes and glanced at the warehouse. It was morning. Had she really fallen asleep so easily? Her body was heavy and was slow to rise to her feet. Something slid off her shoulder and hit the ground with a ground with a dull thud. It was the armored cape that Grey was wearing the day before. Was that the smothering feeling that she felt? Being courteous she tried picking up the article of clothing, but she quickly found that it was far too heavy for her to lift.

"What the hell?" She said to herself.

Well, if that was the case then there was nothing she could really do about it. Vivian turned to face Grey and wake him up, but she found that the man was nowhere to be seen. At some point this morning, or even last night, he had left her. Wasn't he supposed to be a bodyguard or something? Perhaps it would have been better this way. It wasn't that she didn't want to pay him, or that she didn't have the money, but at times he makes her feel both safe and scared at the same time.

Just as she had fortified her emotions to continue this journey alone, someone walked through a nearby door. It was a man, a man that she hadn't seen before. His black hair was slick back and a clean, handsome face shone dark features. He was too dark to be a Mexican, and he was too light to be Black. Perhaps he was from a Middle Eastern country. When the woman first laid eyes a stranger, the first thing she thought she would be was terrified, but there was something gentle in his eyes that made her feel comfort. Or maybe gentle was mistaken for sad.

"I went ahead and bought you some new clothes," the stranger said, for some reason. "I won't have you walking around with me like that."

The man was right. He was dressed in a rather expensive-looking ensemble. Suede boots, charcoal double pleat pants, and an long sleeved velvet shirt. It certainly would have been a shame if she had left with him tattered up as she was. Vivian better take his advice and change right away.

Before for she took the bag that was dangling from the man's grasp, she stopped herself. Who was this? The obvious question she should have asked herself somehow eluded her thought process until now.

"Who are you!?" she panted in a very befuddled tone.

The man stood there with a blank expression on his face. "Did you hit your head or something last night?" He through her the bag. "Look, just go to the office I just came out of. You can change in there."

Grey seemed a much different person than from the night before. Not only in his appearance, but in his mannerism as well. Last night, when he talked to her, he always faced away and had a somewhat gentle, warm tone. Now he was looking at her dead in the eyes and speaking to her as if she were a child.

Vivian picked the bag from the ground and stomped off, "Fine, whatever!"

"I'm going to add that to my expenses!" he shouted before she was outside of earshot.

Slamming the door and pretending to ignore that comment, Vivian practically ripped off her already torn blouse and threw it in a waste bucket that was too her side. It was then that she stopped to analyze her new surroundings. This was the office room that Grey had done whatever before she woke up. There was an expensive oak desk with a flat screen monitor which undoubtedly must have been hooked up to a computer. Opposite that was a couch, which should could of undoubtedly used for a bed the night before.

"Why didn't you tell me there was a couch in here!?" the woman yelled through the door.

"Because it's mine," Grey objected.

"So you make me sleep on the floor while you get the couch!? That's not very bodyguard of you!"

"I don't sleep. Anyways, could you hurry it up? I'm getting hungry."

What was the expression on his face when he said "I don't sleep?" Was he lying or honestly telling the truth? Vivian had always been proud of being able to tell if a person was lying, but it required that she be looking at their face.

A reflection of light caught her attention. There was an open door behind the desk that led to a bathroom. Vivian entered and turned on the light. Nothing was really special, it was just normal with a toilet and shower. A mirror above the sink reflected a messy image of a woman who had spent the past 24 hours running for her life. The woman sighed at how terrible she looked. Opening the shower curtain she saw there would be everything she would need to freshen up.

"I'm gonna take a shower!" she shouted.

"What!? Hurry the hell up! I'm really hungry!"

As if that was going to make the woman move any quicker. "Why don't you just pick something up at Jack-in-the-Box?" Vivian couldn't tell if he responded as she just turned on the water.

Though Grey had managed to produce some new clothes for her, there didn't seem to be any underwear. She would have to use the same ones that she had on now. There wasn't much she could do about, nor could she really complain. Grey didn't have to do this for her. Hell, he could have just rode off in that alley at washed his hands of this whole affair. Why did even bother to offer the woman aid? Could she just blurt out such a question, or should she just shut up and graciously accept his assistance?

It gave her a fright when she stepped into the shower, mainly because she hadn't noticed it before when she was looking for shampoo and conditioner. There was hair stuck in the drain that would eventually clog the shower. After the water ran for a little while, it started to go down the drain. Grey must have already taken a shower too. But the hair, it wasn't from a shave, which he had undoubtedly done before she woke. He must have given himself a trim as well. Doing such things must have taken quite a bit of time, just how long was he up before the woman awoke?

After Vivian was confident that she was clean, the woman dried herself off as best she could. There was no blow-dryer, so her hair would have to be tied back in a pony-tail. She hadn't done that since junior high. When Vivian dressed herself, the clothes made her look like an office worker. It wasn't stylish at all, and made her look very plain. Yet, this made her feel as though she were a professional. Though she wasn't quite used to looking this way, it wasn't all that bad.

When the woman exited the office, she found the man tapping his foot impatiently as he leaned against the exit. She must have been in the shower at least 20 minutes, had he been waiting like this the whole time?

"Come on," Grey spoke, "I'm hungry."

The man didn't wait for the woman to give any kind of response and walked outside. She thought it would have been nice to give a comment on how she looked, that would have been the courteous thing to do. It would appear that such expectations would be wasted on this man.

Vivian stepped outside to have an no suspecting scene before her. Grey was starting up his motorcycle, but it wasn't the same one that they had rode last night. From all appearances, this one appeared to be normal. The phantom bike that had used last night had somehow disappeared and no traces remained. Something was very strange. It was as though this Grey, and the Grey from last night were two completely different people.

In less than 20 minutes they arrived at a Gas Station's that the man seemed very familiar with. The woman that greeted them also seemed to recognize Grey as her expression got just a little bit brighter when she did so. This place was also mixed together with a mini-restaurant of sorts. There was an obvious kitchen that could be seen from the counter, but it appeared that the cook himself also took the orders. This was an obvious "mom and pop" sort of establishment, and Vivian was sort of taken back by it. However, when she saw Grey order enthusiastically, she was compelled to do the same.

"That'll be 11.50."

Grey glanced at Vivian, waiting patiently. Apparently he wanted his client to cover this expense as well. With a grunt she pulled a credit card from her jacket pocket and paid with that. Something caught her guardian's attention and he studied the woman very carefully. Noticing this, Vivian felt the urge to explain herself.

"Oh, this is my sister's card. Dad took mine when I went overboard last month, so I took hers when she wasn't looking."

A ringing phone wakes a man sleeping with his wife in their bed. He is an older looking man with graying hair. His wife, who was many years younger than he, wasn't awakened by the chime. With a groggy voice he picks up the receiver.

"Yes?" he answers.

"Rebecca's just used her card," this was the same voice which he spoke to the night before.

"Really? Where is she?"

"A gas station off Osborne road."

"I understand. Send two off OUR men down there."

"Understood," and with that, the call was over.

"You haven't asked what's in the briefcase," Vivian commented in between bites of her breakfast burrito.

"It doesn't really matter does it?" Grey retorted. "My job doesn't require me to know everything, I just need to protect you. Drugs, drug money, embarrassing photos of some elected official, it just doesn't really matter to me. But than again, if it was money, and it was part of my payment, then it would hold as much value as your life."

A boom echoes through the store when Vivian slams her palms against the table. "It isn't anything unimportant like that!" she shouts.

Grey kept an indifferent expression on his face. "Alright then. It's obvious you want to tell me, so spill it."

With a determined voice, "You don't even care, do you? I'm not going to tell you."

"Then why bring it up in the first place?" After taking a drink of his water, "So tell me, where do you want to go?"

Vivian suddenly froze, as if she didn't already have a destination in mind. There was a slightly long, awkward pause, and afterwards she said, "I want to go somewhere I can access the internet."

Just as those words escaped her mouth, an LAPD police cruiser could be seen from the window. It parked next to the man's motorcycle. Two men were visible inside. The passenger was speaking over his cell phone instead of over the radio. Grey closely watched this scene, but choose to speak nothing to his companion.

"I see her," the officer spoke over his phone. "She's there with a man." There was a pause as he listened to his orders, "Just the girl? All right, no problem." He pushed the "End" button.

"Just the girl?" the driver asked.

"Yeah. Deputy Director wanted just the girl. So let's wait until they get to a more secluded place before we bring her in."

"Got it."

"Are you listening to me?" Vivian shouted at the man as he glared out the window.

"Yes, I understand." Grey had, in fact, been listening. "I doubt you have a library card," and the sudden change of expression proved that she didn't, "so I'll take you to an internet café. Since you don't have you own, they should have some you could use. Are you done with that?"

Vivian hadn't finished all her burrito, but she didn't want to give that man the satisfaction of the last bites of her meal. She threw it away even though it was clear he wanted it. "I'm done. Let's go."

Clearly agitated, but without letting the expression slip onto his face, Grey cleared the table and closely exited behind her, waving to the young woman behind the counter on his way out. As he stepped into the outside world, his eyes briefly made contact with the police officers who had parked next to his bike. Vivian too noticed the cops, and made the mental note to buckle the helmet in front of them. When she turned to her escort, she noticed that he already had his over his head, hiding his face. She remembered him placing the tinted visor next to him where he sat, but had since forgot about it. When exactly had he placed that over his face?

Vivian could feel the eyes of those two men as they began to speed off. No, speed off wasn't the right word, as Grey took a slower pace then normally had done. It seemed even someone such as he was mindful of the authorities. But that feeling didn't leave her bones even after they had gone a few blocks. With her hands around the man's waist, she twisted her body to see behind her. That cruiser was following them. Just when they turned own a particularly quiet street, the lights started to flash and the man immediately pulled over.

"What did we do?" the woman wondered as she stepped off the bike and pulled off her helmet. Both men exited the Crown Victoria and approached the woman and rider. "May we help…" Vivian began to speak, but then some unexpected event occurred.

Still wearing his helmet, Grey kicked off his motorcycle and leapt over the woman. Vivian was cast in his shadow for just a brief moment before his feet tapped the ground and took to an immediate dash towards the officers. The first cop was caught completely unaware as the rider's fist pounded him from below right on the chin. The second tried to pull the gun from his side, but was caught at the elbow. Grey lightly kicked the man's ankle and flipped the body as if it were as light as a pillow. That other cop landed hard on his pack and was met with a powerful stomp on his chest. The helmeted rider stood with his foot on the officer as if to pin him in a professional wrestling match. It was only a couple seconds, but in that time Grey had managed to dispatch both police officers.

It took the woman quite a few moments to respond from the unbelievable scene she had just witnessed. "Why did you do that!?" she shouted.

"Quite!" he fired right back.

Grey inched closer to the first unconscious man's sidearm. His pistol was a Glock 21 .45 ACP. After examining the second man, there was the same gun, Glock 21. The helmeted rider commented something under his breath and headed for his motorcycle. Vivian stood frozen in the middle of the road as the man passed her by. For a second it appeared that he was going to leave her behind, but then shouted:

"Hey! We got to get out of here!"

"W-why did you do that!?" she repeated her question from before. "They were cops..."

"They weren't cops! Now get on!"

For some reason, at this time, she believed him as if that little of explanation was good enough for her. She rushed to her seat and they took off. Grey took some seemingly random turns and ended up in some alley where there didn't seem to be another living soul present. The driver stepped off his bike and motioned for the woman to do the same. He pulled a wrench from underneath the seat and began to work on the license plate.

It was then that Vivian's reasoning began to kick in, "How do you know they weren't real cops?"

Grey was taking off his license plate. "There was a couple things that tipped them off: they didn't follow proper procedure; their shoes were too expensive; stuff like that." Underneath the original plate, there was a second one with a different number. He switched the pair and began to tighten the bolts. "There were two main things though: One, I didn't do anything wrong. This bike's registration's legit and I didn't break any traffic laws. And two, both men are carrying Glocks."

Something was a bit off, "Wait, I remember seeing that on the news last year. The police chief had a big press event and everything. All cops were supposed to switch from the Beretta."

"They weren't supposed to, but they could. Try to give a cop a new and better gun, and all you'll get are gripes. That's especially true with the LAPD. No other police department has more leeway with their choice of firearms, and most of them choose the Beretta 92. To see two officers with the Glock 21 would be extremely rare. Maybe if they were kids but..." Grey didn't have to add that in no way were they both just fresh from the Academy.

Grey finished with the plate swap and then leaned against his bike, "That shouldn't be your biggest worry."

Vivian was a bit taken back. "Fake cops aren't my biggest worry?" When she said it out loud, she realized, "Wait, why are fake cops after me? And how did they know where I was?"

Grey nodded as that was the question she should be asking. "My guess is because of you using that card," meaning her sister's credit card. "But then if that's the case, then the real question should be, 'Who is able to trace credit cards and send fake cops to pick you up?' Vivian, just who are after you?"

"I-I'm not sure," was her honest answer.

"Then it seems I need to see the briefcase after all. Show it to me," he demanded, reaching for the container.

"No!" Vivian shouted and instinctively pulled away. "You don't get to see what's in here!"

"Stop acting like that! I need to know what's in there!"

"And what about you!" Vivian's cries made the man back off. "You ride that motorcycle like a racer, you have no problem killing people, you spend the night hiding in some warehouse, and you can tell a fake cop at just a glance. What I need to know is just who the hell you are!"

For the first time the woman watched an emotional response in his face. "It doesn't matter who I am. The only thing that matters is that I said I would protect you." It was difficult to identify which particular emotion that was. "I need to know what's in there so I can have an idea of who we are dealing with."

Realizing that she was in an advantageous position, Vivian would push her opinions, "You still can't tell me? Then I don't trust you. Just take me where I want to go and don't ask any questions."

"Understood," Grey said without any hesitation.

It was now she realized what emotion was on his face: it was pain.