The garage lights were off.  A spark from Stone's lighter sent scattered shadows scampering along stretched diagonals towards the corners and behind rolling tool boxes.  The flame, reflected in his lenses, caused the shadows to twitch and undulate for the few seconds it took to light his smoke.

There was a hanging work light with a switch on its cord tied to Stone's workbench.  He found the switch and flicked it, creating a small circular pool of light above the object of his efforts these past few months.

The frame, handlebars, seat, and flares from his hog gave the vehicle in the makeshift spotlight a familiar profile.  This bike, however, wasn't anything like what he'd ridden when he first arrived in Hudson City.  The engine was gone, replaced by something far more high-tech.  It had been taken apart, reengineered, and put back together onto a frame that hadn't been built to hold it.  It was a Frankenstein's monster of a motorcycle.

Under the work light, chrome from the rotary-style engine and pipes gleamed and the black leather high-back seat and saddlebags and black-painted tank curved menacingly about each other.  The hybrid Harley-hypercycle was possessed of a much meaner look and feel than either bike had shown before he'd chopped them up and put them together.  It was the kind of bike a passerby would see parked somewhere and think, My God, who rides that?

In short, it looked perfect.

But would it work?  He'd started it and let it idle for an hour while hooked up to the Cathedral garage's diagnostic control computer for the hypercycles without incident.  But he hadn't ridden it, not yet.  He'd come up with every excuse to avoid it but he'd run out of those and now there was only one thing left to do.

The smoke drifted up from his cigarette to create a hazy layer high up in the lighted area as he ran his hand along he soft leather of the seat.  He'd had a lot of time to think about what woudl happen when he finally had it working and rolled on out of here.  Was it apprehension that his monster might not work that kept him from jumping on and giving it a try, or was it the voice in his head that gnawed at his sense of comfort and told him that once it was done, that he should hit the road and head west and not stop until he hit ocean.

He could do it now, he thought.  Just get on, roll down the tunnel and out onto Front Street, and with the new engine he'd be in Ohio before he'd have to stop for gas.  He had some shit in his apartment but it wasn't anything he needed, just some clothes - most of which weren't his - and a music player.  It was nothing that couldn't be replaced.

He straddled the bike.  After a deep breath, he levelled it and stroked the starter with a well-practiced sweep of his foot, gunned the engine a few times, and smirked inside.  Push-button start, my ass, he thought with conviction.

Heatwave almost didn't enter the garage when she saw the small pool of light illuminating the lone occupant. She changed her mind as Stone's bike roared to life. If he was leaving there was no reason for her not to get her own bike ready. In the past few months since Stone had taught her to ride she had found it was a good way to forget about her cares, at least for awhile, and if there was ever a time she needed to forget it was now.

The light where Stone usually worked did little to banish the shadows in the rest of the large garage so she reached for the switch to turn on the overheads. The path to her bike took her past Stone where he sat astride the meanest looking bike she had ever seen and she gave him a nod. "That thing finally running?"

He looked down at the running motorcycle and then back up at her and deadpanned, "Is this a trick question?"

Flushing, Heatwave stammered. "I... I meant is it ready to go out on the road." Her initial embarrassment gave way to irritation and she added, "Forget I asked."

"Lighten up, Heat," Stone offered as he checked his gauges.  When he looked up again she was readying her hypercycle, or trying to.  She was pacing around with a lot of unnecessary movement - not her usual graceful self.

Fuck it, he thought, returning his attention to his console.  Not my problem.

A startled yelp drew Stone's attention back and he saw she had somehow managed to knock the hypercycle on its side. She was lifting it back up when she caught his eyes on her.

"What are you looking at?" The snapped question was nothing like her usual quiet self.

Stone's lenses stared at her for a moment but then just shook his head and sighed, and went back to monitoring his bike's gauges.  Not my problem. 

"What, no smart comment?" It was plain she was looking for a confrontation.

"Don't forget your helmet," he replied casually after a few moments, not bothering to look up from what he was doing.

"I don't need a helmet." She answered, finally climbing on the bike. It started with a smooth purr and she sat for a moment checking the gages, making sure everything was in order before taking it out.

Stone yanked the diagnostic umbilical from his engine and then in one fluid motion slipped his bike into gear and yanked the throttle to start it rolling forward.  As he passed the helmet rack he grabbed Heatwave's.  A moment later he was sitting next to her, silently holding out the skid lid to the petite raven-haired woman.

A long moment passed and the internal debate over whether to take the helmet or not was clear on Heatwave's face. With a look of annoyance totally unlike her she took it from him without a word and turned back to the gauges.

Stone sat there for a moment, watching her, seeing the signs.  Finally he said, "Ease off the gas.". 

He nodded slowly, and spoke firmly, quietly, buit without the attitude that usually edged his tone.  It was almost sympathetic. 

"You're going to want to burn out of here, but don't.  You'll only miss a skid or fishtail out and then you'll feel foolish on top of whatever else you got going on.  Take it easy.  Stay off the highway.  Don't get sucked into a long stretch of road.  That's a trip to avoid.  Working the grips and the gears will help get your mind somewhere else."

He leaned back into his seat and pulled out his smokes.  "Been there, done that."  There was regret, and memory, in those words, if perhaps not in the eyes which hid behind his lenses.

Surprised by Stone's lack of attitude and tone Heatwave searched his sunglass masked face trying to decide on a response. Stone's normally stoic manner had led her to believe he was incapable of regret and yet here he was as close to admitting it as possible without saying it in words. At any other time her heart might have gone out to him but for the moment she was too caught up in her own problems.

"A long stretch of road was exactly what I was thinking of finding." She took a long look at the biker, her face softening. "Why do you say I should avoid it?"

He finished lighting his smoke and snapped his lighter shut.  "A long stretch of road's like a bartender," he said without looking over.  "It'll just sit there and listen to you go on and on in your head until you're so wrapped up you do something random or stupid to break the funk - pull off and get drunk, get a tattoo, get into a fight."

He shook his head, looked down at his hand on his tank.  "It ain't easy, the long road."

With a shrug, Stone snapped himself back to his usual state like a stretched rubber band.  He looked over at Heatwave and studied her for a moment, dark lenses seeing her demons - whatever they were.  He could talk to her, help her.  He had experience with demons.  Sometimes just kicking it over with someone got the mind somewhere it could handle them.

Not.  My.  Problem.

"I'll see ya, Heat," he offered before yanking his throttle and rolling down the tunnel towards the street exit.

"I guess." Heatwave said, not sure whether to be happy or disappointed as Stone rode off. She had gotten a brief glimpse of a very different Stone than the one she was used to. One that matched the fleeting look she had of his deep brown eyes when Phase had stolen his sun glasses.

Quit worrying about Stone, you've got your own problems. She thought. Donning her helmet, she took off down the tunnel after Stone at a near reckless speed.

When she made the turn and shot up the ramp to Front Street, Stone was sitting there waiting for her at the large, open, discretely disguised garage door exit. 

"Where you going?" She heard him ask over her helmet speaker.

Heatwave gave serious thought to ignoring his question and just blowing past him on her way out. Instead she slowed her bike and answered. "I don't know. Out. Somewhere"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he replied.  Stone took a drag from the smoke hanging in his mouth and said, "Look, we're out here for the same reason.  I was thinking of maybe taking a day off, going down to A-C.  Wanna come?  If nothing else we can get drunk and lose some of this money Phi's throwing at us while not thinking about shit."

"I don't think Ms. DiSantiago would be happy about two of her team getting drunk and gambling." Heatwave answered. "Besides, I don't drink."

"Why the hell not?" Stone answered.

"I guess that's not entirely true. I do have a glass of wine on occasion." Heatwave shrugged. "I just never felt the need to get drunk before, and now..." Stone could not see her face through the visor but he could hear the pain in her voice. "Now, I don't think it would be a good idea."

"Why the hell not?" Stone persisted.

"You sure are nosy today." Her annoyed tone was nothing like anything Stone had heard from her before and there was an underlying something he could not quite put his finger on. Fear, anger, loathing, all three? It was impossible to tell

Heatwave revved the hypercycle's engine a couple of times before adding. "If you must know, I'm afraid I might hurt someone. Someone, who doesn't deserve it."

Stone's mouth twisted slightly in a difference of opinion but he let it go.  "Then you can watch me drink," he offered.  "And if you change your mind at some point tonight you can get drunk and then take it out on me.  I'm fairly sure I deserve it for something."

"I guess I could use some company right now." She studied Stone from behind her visor. "Anyone ever tell you you're full of surprises? Thanks."

In reply, Stone just nodded a 'you're welcome' and let her lead them out onto the streets.

The pace she set was faster than Stone would have expected from the timid woman. On open stretches she pushed her skill to the limit, seemingly uncaring of any speed limits. Almost as if she were trying to run from something.

A couple of hours later, the attractive couple were pulling up in front of the main entrance of the Borgata.  Stone led them right up to the large automatic doors and parked his custom hypercycle on the curb. 

"Ummmm.... I don't think we're supposed to park here." Heatwave said over the helmet's radio.

"Trust me," Stone replied confidently as he climbed off of his bike.

"Excuse me, sir."  The words were polite but the tone wasn't.  The valet seeemd reluctant to confront a biker, but did his best. 

"You can't park here."

He didn't reply immediately.  Stone helped Heatwave off her bike and then, as he led her past the valet, said to him calmly, "Sure we can.  See?"  He gestured to their hypercycles with his thumb and moved into the casino.

For her part Heatwave just shrugged and gave the valet a sympathetic look. Once inside she could not help stopping and looking around. It was the first time she had ever been in a casino and while she had seen them on TV and in the movies the reality was not what she had expected. The sheer size alone was more than she had imagined.

"Now what?" She asked the biker.

"What's your game?" Stone replied.

"My game?" Heatwave asked confused. She was still looking around, trying to take in every sight and sound and barely seemed to remember Stone was there.

"Yeah, you know - blackjack, craps, roulette, pai gow..."

"I don't know. I've never been in a casino before." She turned to face Stone. "This was probably a bad idea. Coming here I mean. I've hardly ever been out of Hudson City, much less been to a place like this."

"Don't you think it's about time?" he asked her.  "Come on."

Stone led his teammate through a massive columned archway and out onto the casino floor.  A constant barrage of lights and sounds assaulted them from the decor, the slot machines standing in well-formed ranks, and the tables with their many patrons.  He stopped to look around and then moved towards the blackjack tables.

There were a bunch of tables at the end of the section that were stocked but inactive.  Stone sat down at one of those and signaled for Heatwave to do the same.

Heatwave took the seat next to him, trying to ignore the curious stares her costume was receiving. She was having second thoughts about the whole thing and wondering why she had agreed to come. The months she had been on the team had done much to ease her initial fear of the biker but she was still uneasy in his company. This has to be one of your worst ideas ever.

Still she was here and she might as well make the most of it. Leaning over toward Stone, she said in a low voice. "I don't know how to play."

"You'll learn as you go," the biker replied just as one of the floormen approached from the busy side of the pit.  "Hold that thought."

"Hi, can I help you two?" the floorman asked, trying to be polite.  He was older middle-aged with grey hair and a very nice brown suit.

"I'm Stone, this is Heatwave," Stone introduced as he handed a card to the floorman.  "I'm going to teach her how to play.  Can we get this table started?"

The floorman studied the card for a moment before replying, "Sure thing, just give me a minute, ok?"

He walked back to the pit and spoke to an important-looking man who was overseeing the pit.  Stone explained to his partner that this was the pit boss, and he ran the show.  The pit boss looked at the card and listened to the floorman and then just nodded nonchalantly without even looking over at the two Conquistadors.

"We'll have a dealer here in a second," the floorman told Stone as he handed back the card.  "Good luck," he added before rapping on the table with his knuckle and returning to the busy tables.

Heatwave watched it all without a word until the floorman had left. While waiting for the table to open she asked the biker, "What was the bit with the card about?"

"If you frequent a casino for long enough they give you one of those.  It's like a VIP thing," he explained.  "I don't need money, so I end up here a lot."

"You don't need money? How do you manage to pull that off?" Stone could tell she did not believe him.

In response, the biker just shrugged and replied, "I don't have to eat or sleep, don't need a place to live.  Hell, the Cathedral's the first actual residence I've had in six or seven years.  I got nobody to worry about except myself.  So why do I need money?"

"That sounds lonely." Heatwave flushed. "I'm sorry, I know it's none of my business, forget I said anything."

None of my business, Stone repeated in his head.  Sure.

"Look..." Stone found himself in the unusual position of having to think about what he wanted to say to make sure his words matched.  "In the garage, you obviously had something on your mind.  You wanna talk about it?"

It was evident from the struggle on her face, Heatwave was torn between opening up to the biker and remaining silent. With a heavy sigh she answered, "Talking doesn't change things. I'm starting to think you have the right idea. No ties to anyone, no one to miss when they're gone..." Her voice broke and unshed tears glistened in her eyes. Looking off into the distance over his shoulder she continued. "I've been thinking joining the Conquistadors was a mistake."

Stone shrugged.  "How come?"

"I'm no hero, Stone. I made a promise and joining the Conquistadors seemed like the best way to keep it." Heatwave shrugged, "I'm no longer sure it can be kept."

"Oh... that," Stone said quietly, realizing what was bothering her so much.  "Yeah..."

"Well why the hell not?" he finally asked.  "What's changed?"

"That's just it, nothing's changed. I've been looking for answers for a year now and I still don't know any more than I did then." She looked into his sunglasses wishing she could see his eyes. The mirrored shades made it difficult to tell what he was thinking. "I'm sure you had better stuff to do today than listen to me feel sorry for myself."

The dealer arrived, a young, tiny Chinese woman, and started silently preparing a shoe.  Stone acknowledged her with a nod before dismissing Heatwave's last point.

"Don't worry about it.  Motorcycle club 101 - I've got your back and you've got mine.  You got shit to deal with, we deal with it together.  Solid?"

Heatwave shrugged noncommittally and pretended to take a great interest in the dealer's preparations. There was a war going on inside her between the part of her that wanted to believe Stone and the part of her that had been betrayed by her husband.

"That only works if it goes both ways." She finally said.

After a nod, Stone thought about it for a moment and suggested, "Maybe you're looking for the wrong answers.  Maybe looking for answers isn't what you should be doing."

With a furrowed brow Heatwave said, "I'm not sure I'm following you."

"You've been doing the same thing for a year and getting nowhere.  Maybe you ought to try something different."

"What would you do?" Heatwave asked.

"Depends," the biker answered immediately.  "Revenge can keep you warm at night, despite what some people say.  But...  most times it's just better to cut it loose.  Bad things happen to good people.  Accept it and move on."

"But that's me," he added.  "You have to think it through.  Let's say you find your answers.  Then what?  What if legal justice isn't an option?  You gonna kill someone to get some back?  Could you?  And then what?"

"I can't just let it go. Not after seeing my family, my children, burned alive." Her voice caught. "I won't let this happen to anyone else and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure it doesn't. After that I don't care what happens."

Stone nodded some more.  Her reaction was perfectly reasonable and understandable given the circumstances. 

"So what's your plan?"

"I thought that was obvious. Find whoever was responsible and take him out. I've been going out nearly every night to try to find someone who knows something." It was clear she had no idea how to conduct an investigation of that type.

"No, I mean after that.  Once you take him out, what's next?"

Heatwave shrugged. "I haven't made any plans beyond that."

"You should," Stone suggested.  "You're going to be busy.  There's some twelve thousand fire-related deaths every year in the USA.  I don't know how many of those are homicides or how many happen in Hudson City, but they happen.  You gonna stop all of them, too?"

Heatwave shook her head. "I can't plan for what happens after. I don't even know where I'll be after."

Stone sighed inwardly.  This woman had some major issues to work out before she was ready to move on.  And again, it wasn't really his problem.  He had plenty of problems of his own.

Stone drew a ten-three, Heatwave a King-five.  The dealer showed a six.

"Stay," Stone told her, then to Heatwave, "The dealer's got to hit a sixteen.  You should stay."

"Are you sure?" Heatwave frowned at the cards.

"Trust me," he replied.  "It's the smart play."

Heatwave studied his face then looked back at her cards. When she finally spoke Stone got the feeling she wasn't just talking about the game. "Alright." Then to herself, Just don't make me regret it.

The dealer flipped a nine and then dealt herself a Jack for a total of twenty-five, a bust.  She cleared the cards and started to pay out on both players' bets.

"I'm thinking about leaving," Stone let out with no preamble. 

"Why?" She asked simply, afraid if she said too much he would clam up. Him saying anything at all was a shock.

"I can't hack it," he admitted.  He wasn't one to open up to anyone like this, but it was somehow easier knowing that she was working through her own share of shit.  He needed a sounding board and on this topic Nemesis wasn't the best choice.

"I'm not a team player," he said.  It sounded like a lame excuse in his own ears, but it was as close as he could describe.  "Never have been.  It's like..."  He grunted.  "I can't explain it.  Like, if I don't get the hell out of here soon I'm going to drown, or something."

He had a nine-eight showing against the dealer's nine and stuck.

"You could have fooled me about being a team player." Heatwave said picking up her cards. A seven and a jack. She chewed her lower lip in thought before finally deciding to stay. "I never would have learned to ride if it hadn't been for you."

"I've taught a hundred people to ride, Heat."  He replaced his bet after the dealer flipped a King and took his money.  "I'm just not comfortable with... long term relationships, I guess."

Heatwave frowned as she watched the dealer collect her money. "What's the minimum I can bet?" She asked Stone.

"Twenty five dollars," the dealer replied, pointing to a little green card in the corner of the table with the table parameters spelled out.

"So, if you're not a team player what made you decide to join in the first place?" She asked after placing her chips.

With a shrug, Stone replied, "Nemesis and I go way back.  I was passing through the week before New Years and he asked me to help him out, said he needed someone to watch his back.  Didn't trust the D's, surprise, surprise.  I knew at the time it wasn't my thing but I let him talk me into it anyway."

"Hindsight is 20-20," he added, raking in his win off a blackjack.

"From what I've heard, he's right not to trust them." Heatwave watched apprehensively as the dealer revealed her cards. The dealer had an eight showing and when she flipped over the nine Heatwave let out the breath she had been holding with a sigh. Seventeen to her eighteen. "And we can all use someone we trust at our backs."

"True enough," Stone replied as he replaced his bet.  "I doubt I'll be missed, though," he countered.  "Phi's paying me crazy money, for what?  To run around town looking for trouble?  Not like we're finding any, so what's the point?"

"I'd miss you." Heatwave said quietly. "I don't have many friends."

Stone let that pass without comment for a few hands.  This was exactly what he was talking about.  He didn't have hardly any friends at all, and he liked it that way.  There was no bullshit, no constricting feelings, no expectations to get shit on - no misplaced trust.

"You're better off," he finally said.  "I've had friends.  They're often overrated."

After having lost two hands in a row, Heatwave had stopped playing and was now watching Stone. "You're right, they are. That's what makes the ones who aren't all the more important."

"Yeah, maybe,"  Stone was intentionally ambivalent - he didn't want to hear it - but also momentarily distracted by a pair of aces.  He split them, doubled down on each, and drew a Jack and a King - dueling blackjacks versus the dealer's seventeen.  After he got paid, he picked up his chips.

"Know when to quit, Heat," he said.  "Sometimes the smart play is just to walk away."

"I wish you had told me that before I was broke." Heatwave said with a false cheerfulness, deliberately misinterpreting Stone's meaning. So much for having each other's back. Despite her efforts her disappointment was clear on her face.

Stone was good at reading people, and he read her pretty well.  The fact was, he liked her - not in a want-to-get-in-her-pants kind of way, although he'd never throw her out of bed, but more in a little sister type of way.

"Cheer up," he said.  "Worse comes to worst, you can come with me."  He deadpanned, "Sooner or later my cuddly charm will wear you down."  Then he winked without smiling.

Heatwave shook her head. "I'd rather be on my own. Then I don't have to worry about the person who's supposed to have my back just taking off." She hadn't meant for the words to come out as bitter as they did but it was too late to take them back. Rather than try she headed for the casino's entrance.

Stone watched her go, not stunned and perhaps not put out, but certainly annoyed at the comment and at himself.  He should have known better than to open his damn mouth.  Fuck it - he did know better.

Not my problem.  Asshole.