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I held on while they drove by a pair of really handy magnetic grapples. OK they're stupidly strong rare earth magnets that most people would have trouble lugging about, much less reposition once they've clamped on. I carry them in my, well it's been dubbed everything from the Justice-Mobile, WarWagon, SpookSter, and all sorts of other names besides. It's mine; me and a few friends built it for my special needs, and unlike all those gaudy comic book cars it actually blends in with day to day traffic, and it has room for most of my stuff so I can have handy things like magnets strong enough to grip an aluminum walled trailer while going at highway speeds.
 

We rode like that for, well, I'm not sure except it was awhile. I saw 'Now Entering Bugtussle' on the way so I guess we were still there when the truck stopped. By legal agreements I cannot quote anything anyone has said, because while I have the authority to make arrests and anything said after that point automatically goes on record and yea... I know I know. It can be a bit of a headache. The driver spoke with somebody else and they pulled further into the storage lot, presumably to the units they'd rented to put this stuff in.
 

I was just thankful they hadn't noticed me yet; because while I could have taken them all there it adds to credibility if they can't turn around and say '
This guy jumped us out of the blue. we were just moving inventory around.
' Granted I'm not sure if they would have thought that far ahead, but they had savvy enough to pull this off so I didn't want to risk their having faked work orders and delivery papers. I suppose one would wonder why they didn't just rent space in a traditional warehouse to complete the illusion if that were the case, but the thought hadn't crossed my mind till just now.
 

Once they'd parked and started unloading I pulled a GPS unit off my belt. This was one of those expensive ruggedized models that not only could take abuse, but could also, if connected to either an Internet connection or cell phone, transmit its current location. Handy if you don't want to speak, but you want someone else to know where you are. I'd done this trick a few times before so was pretty confident I could manage it under these conditions. While the trailer was being unloaded I'd taped a phone, pre-paid so there wouldn't be any sort of bill leading back to me, to the back then made a gentle underhand toss so the bundle would land on the unit block's roof. That would tip off a few friends I have with Winston PD that they might want to start looking here for missing goods.
 

I could have taken them right then, but I didn't see anything parked nearby, so if they didn't scatter on foot I had to work under the assumption they'd pile in the truck and either meet with others from their crew/set/whatever, or they'd return the truck to whatever rental place they'd gotten it from THEN scatter. I tend to carry two or three of those GPS gizmos and I keep a few phones. Look, I know. I could probably have gotten something that does what my McGuyvered homing devices do without involving duct tape. I just like using as many commonly available gadgets as possible. Never know when I'll come up against a bright bulb that can figure out who's buying all the customized swag.
 

Right. Good Guys know where the stolen goods are. I've put another tracking thingy on the truck itself, and if they're going somewhere private rather than a rental lot I would see just who else was involved. Pity that last part didn't work out so well. I was too busy trying to get a look at incoming traffic and got a face full of decorative gating and the last I saw of that truck or the people in it that night was of their taillights going down the road while I was peeling myself off the pavement.
 

Eh well. One of the many reasons I deal with the homing thingies is in case I get thrown off the trail and the boys in blue will have a few facts to string together. It’s just embarrassing when the throwing off is this literal.
 

After dusting myself off I took my phone out and called dad. He wanted to know how my first night out on my own went, good or bad. He'll give me merry hell about not paying attention, but not nearly the level of grief that my granddad might.
 

Not easy being the grandson of a legend, but it’s the only life I know. I suppose as a consolation things haven’t been a total wash, and in the event my judgment was off there would only be a minor embarrassment rather than a major fiasco.
 

Gotta love these new do-everything phones. I’m truck surfing while typing all this. Grateful I pulled my magnets off the truck when I got clonked, it made the process of getting back as easy as hopping on something headed the way I wanted to go and keep an eye out for my exit.
 

NEEDFUL THINGS.
 

 
I've just met with a friend in Winston PD, whom I will refer to as M to preserve their identity, and gotten back the Jerry-rigged tracking devices I'd left for them to find. While my assistance had given them leads to follow, and returned the stolen items, they've requested that my involvement remain indirect in the matter because of some visiting high ranking muckamuck's kid from out of state somehow being involved. Irritating they want me to use kid gloves, but I understand. Kid gets popped he's going to have Daddy Morebucks call in the high powered legal team that could get Freddy Felon or Marley Misdemeanor off on a technicality caused by me throwing him through a wall before hauling him in.
 

I've actually done that before to somebody that pulled a shotgun on me. It's actually quite therapeutic, and if done right you don't break nearly many bones in the perp as you would think.
 

M gave me what they came up with on both who rented the storage units and the truck. Winston's Finest had been explicitly told to Stay Away otherwise Bad Things will happen to their budget. However if they got tipped off by a dependable informant that has no official affiliation with the department followed up by a subtle but not too subtle hint that if nothing further is done an expose piece will be put through the late night circuit well, I'm sure Bad Things are still more likely than not, but at least this way it'll get delayed until after a solid case has been built and arrests made.
 

I got home from last night's doings about the time most people go to work in the morning. Right now it's close to what most people thing is lunch time. A friend of the family is going to show up tonight for some as-yet-not-known reason, and the people M wants me to check in on are from out of town.
 

What I need is time.
 

Thankfully I've got hours before Comrade Peter, yes That Comrade Peter, shows. I know it's more than most are willing to believe that my family's on good terms with the former Red Menace. Like I said before, to me it's just how things were. He's a nice guy, and even when he and granddad stood on opposing sides of the Iron Curtain they had self imposed rules and more than a little respect for each other. He helped train me when granddad got sick, taught me the simple joys that can help offset the heartache being 'unique' can bring, and he helped convince myfather that it was in my best interests to let me follow the path he least liked. I won't slight the man by being late in picking him up, especially since I'm pretty sure even though he's in his seventies he could probably knock me into next week.
 

First stop on my quick check through things is going to be at Lucy’s Bar and Grill. I'm hungry, and the guy that runs the place might be able to give me a better go-to on these people. I don't advise anyone else try the man. In his prime he probably could take me in a straight up fight. Just glad that he, granddad, his wife, and I had a long heart to heart over dinner one night. Not sure if he actually knows anything, and if not I'll have to suss these people out on my own. Don't like it because I just don't see any gang, especially a purely local one, stealing that much stuff without some sort of deal with one of the bigger fish. Then again I'll admit I'm new at this so probably don't quite understand how the criminal mind works.
 

WORDS FAIL ME.
 

 
Granddad’s Dead.
 

 
I.
 

 
Breath. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
 

 
Peter told me he wanted to give me the news personally instead of over the phone. The Funeral’s going to be next Friday after a week of national mourning. He’s asked me if I wanted to speak when they bring him to Washington for public services.
 

I’ve gotten calls from a few friends that know all those little details about my life I don’t generally share. I’m not fine. Dad’s told me it’s better off for everyone that the Old Man’s gone. He said people shouldn’t look to any single person as their savior.
 

We argued. Can’t think straight. Sorry.
 

If anyone needs me I’ll be beating up pimps and drug pushers. Maybe Mr. Patterson will start hitting his wife again. He does it tonight and I’m not sure if I can keep myself from killing him.
 

 
BRAWLING THE BLUES AWAY.
 

 
Nobody died because of me, though more than a few have broken bones and probably will have nightmares of what I did to them for the next decade. On the whole though things were slow. Maybe this is one of those moments where the whole nation stops and realizes just what happened is deeply historic and has to take a few moments to catch it’s collective breath. Maybe even if they don’t realize I’m the man’s grandson I’d more likely than not look up to him and as a result would be unpredictable if provoked right now.
 

Case in point I see a Slurp n’ Shop getting held up and one of the thugs sees me. He motions to the door and the guy holding up the register pushes the money they’d just stolen back to the kid working there, and dropped their guns before finding somewhere else to be. Usually they either put up some sort of fight, or try taking the money with them.
 

Peter showed up around midnight, in full uniform no less.
 

‘
Come. We will celebrate your Grandfather’s life by doing what he loved.’
 

I’m pretty sure the thick accent was a put-on, but even though the man’s old enough to retire to a quiet life wherever he pleases he still cuts an impressive figure, and he’s kept his Colors in pristine condition.
 

The night was slow, but there were places the two of us proved useful in keeping the peace. Underground fighting. Normally I turn a blind eye, especially when I know the people running the things enforce rules to limit how bloody they get. It’s the ones like we saw that involve weapons or ‘to the death’ that get my attention. No really I try a calm rational approach before things get messy to see if at least a few people will see sense and find somewhere else to be. There that night though we’d told them to either leave, or they would be made to leave, and we didn’t care which. Even with the sort of extraordinary healing, tolerances, strength, and such taking on a room full of testosterone junkies in a confined space isn’t what either of us would consider smart fighting.
 

Between the two of us we had the room cleared in maybe five minutes, possibly less. Normally I’d feel bad for anyone who I actually hurt. It’s generally better if I can incapacitate without permanently laming or otherwise compromising someone, but nobody would die because of our untidiness. Peter made calls both to Winston PD and to a few of the closer hospitals. Can’t be sure but I think Mercer Medical was closest, or maybe Julie Ann Memorial. Both were called before we left.
 

Before the night was over we hit a burning building, working with Winston’s Bravest so they could focus on the fire while we looked for anyone trapped inside. Of the people we helped direct out only one needed more than a quick pointer on which way was out and I let Peter carry him out while I made sure it hadn’t spread. Bless whoever invented those oxygen masks. That would have been far more difficult with people dying in the process if they hadn’t lent us a pair.
 

We called it a night after that. I was tired, Peter was exhausted, and we both had a flight to catch in a couple hours. M knows I’ll be gone, and though they and the rest of the department will miss me they understand.
 

Typing all this while on the way to the airport. Police escort, people lining the streets. There’s a good number of homemade banners and signs. You’d think I’d done something to deserve the attention. Not sure who told them, or why. Things won’t be quite the same when I get back, but I left my gear in good hands.
 

 
GUIDING LIGHTS.
 

 
It was all over pretty much every network. I will spare you with details you’re already familiar with. Perhaps he would have said he’d rather the national attention to the causes he championed and his want for people to come together on this grand a scale to have happened before he died, but I’m sure he would have been happy with the memorial service. All in all I feel it was done tastefully. Was actually somewhat caught off guard that so many from his old unit are gone.
 

The words I said were not quite the ones I wanted to say. They were true words spoken from the heart, but it was only part of what I wanted to say. So here goes with the rest of it.
 

His life has touched so many for so long that it’s hard to believe he’s gone. I grew up with this man and saw the flaws and failings that he tried to keep from the public eye and, I believe, everyone has tried to quietly dismiss as hearsay and black propaganda.
 

 
When I started dating he took me off to one side to give me The Talk. I suppose everyone gets this talk when they first figure out girls aren’t icky. Hold open doors and such. His Talk also went into things he Never Ever wanted me to do. One of these was dating ‘those kinds of people.’ I can already hear the uproar this will cause and ask everyone to just settle down. He had the greatest respect for people of any creed or color, far more than many from his generation were brought up to have. That upbringing was bigoted, backward, and even though he often rose above it there were some things that had been so ingrained in him that they were a part of him.