Al was the first to hear them coming.  From behind the house he picked up the sounds of squealing tires from down the street.  That was followed by some heavy engine sounds that closed in rapidly from each end of the street.  Whatever they were, they had communication equipment.  The sounds of radio chatter from inside the approaching vehicles was clear to him.

Tom was the first to see them as the two marked cars screeched to a halt at the end of the driveway, blocking the larger vehicle from exiting.  The vehicles were four-wheeled like Fox's but these had an official look and feel to them, black and white with the word "Police" on the side.

Four men exited them quickly as two more vehicles arrived bringing the total to four.  The men wore black paramilitary uniforms with shiny metal badges on their chests.  They carried guns on thick leather utility belts.  All four focused like a laser on the men in the vehicle bay, hands on their sidearms.  The safety catches on the holsters had been released.

"Police!  Freeze!" two of them yelled.  "Drop the weapons!  Do it now!"

The man the Toms had been fighting relaxed instantly, a look of impatient frustration on his face as he let his baton clatter to the ground and put his hands on his head while eyeing Tom-with-the-sword ruefully.

"Damn," muttered every Tom softly. A sword and power drill clattered to the floor. "Damn, damn, damn..." they all said. He wondered what he needed to do to reverse the multiple-Tom effect. Was it a matter of will? He tested this theory, giving silent thanks to his brothers and wishing them back to wherever they'd come from.

It was an odd sensation.  He could feel it in all of his selves.  They were him and he was them and all was one, but wasn't.  And then it was again.  Where there had been four Toms there was now one. 

The cops understandably freaked out. Handguns were pulled from their holsters.

"Freeze!" the lead cop shouted.  "Freeze!" In case he hadn't been heard the first time.  He stalked up to Tom while his partner moved to cuff Tom's opponent.

"Where'd they go?" he asked forcefully, almost threateningly.

"Good question," Tom replied, staring back at the armed man before him. He'd had about enough of weapons being pointed at him, and just over-all-in-general being threatend, and the well of his patience had about run dry. "Who are you, and why are you here?" 

"I'm arresting you," the cop disdainfully said as if it should be obvious.  He seemed angry and on edge but overlay with decent self-control, as if trained.  "And I'm your worst nightmare if you make trouble, you understand?  Now turn around slow and put your hands on the fridge right now.  Let's go."

The official gestured with his weapon towards the large mechanical box-like appliance next to and a little behind Tom.  Before a response could form in Tom's head he caught his opponent's eyes trying hard to catch his own.  The man who had been trying to kick his ass only a minute ago had his hands shackled behind his back now by the other official.  He was looking intently at Tom with what might have been an annoying concern.  The man gave Tom a slight nod and mouthed the words, "Do it."

Tom ground his teeth together and glared thunderously at the man before him. You would be surprised at my nightmares, little man. You wouldn't last a moment... flashed across his mind, causing him to blink owlishly. He took a deep breath, then turned and marched off towards the box.

The cop resisted the urge to "help" Tom get up against the fridge.  He had complied and so better to get him handcuffed quickly, was the cop's thinking.  He cuffed one of Tom's outstretched hands before pulling it down to his lower back.  Its partner joined it there before that wrist was also bound and Tom found himself being turned around and led out of the vehicle bay.

As soon as Nine had seen the vehicle screech to a stop in the driveway, he stopped what he was doing and sat back on his haunches, scooting back towards the side wall of the vehicle bay, hoping that the new arrivals would consider him a beast and ignore him until they were done with the Toms and the intruders. It galled him to play the part, but it kept him a wildcard until he could see how this resolved itself.

He let his eyes idly wander around the room looking for something to use in case the Tom's decided to continue the melee.

"Shit," the cop doing the handcuffs said as he noticed the orangutan.  "Sarge, we're going to need Animal Control.  Check it out."

The officer leading Tom paused to look, and when he saw Nine he said, "Alright, let's get these two in the car pronto.  Then radio dispatch, tell them to get Bruce out here with his rifle."

The two cops lead the two men towards the cars at the end of the ramp leading up from the street.  This placed them in proximity for a moment, during which the man who'd been trying to take Tom out with his baton turned his head and spoke in a quiet voice.

"Do what they tell you and you won't be harmed.  Resist and they'll hurt you or worse."

"You shut the fuck up," Tom's arresting officer barked out before Tom had a chance to reply.  "Put him in that one," he told his partner.

Tom and the other man were led to seperate vehicles.  The rear compartment in all of them looked to have been altered into a cage-like situation.  As Tom was being placed into the cage seat he heard the voice of his opponent from the other vehicle somewhere close behind him. 

"Until we meet again..."

The door was shut and Tom found himself alone, his arresting officer moving off to stand several feet away and talk into what looked like a communication device's microphone strapped to his shoulder.

Tom tried to get comfortable on the uncomfortable couch like contraption they'd put in the back of this transport - difficult, given the restraints on his hands. He considered what he'd been told by the man who'd moments earlier had been trying to capture him, and found in them irony. His words seemed to imply that whomever had sent him could negate or influence the control of this newest set of captors. He stared out the window, testing the restraints and finding thim up to the task.

Well old man, you got your peace and quiet at last he thought with a wry smile. He wondered who would be captured, and who would escape. He wondered what he'd say about this when the questions started. He wondered how he woudl recompense those who's dwelling he'd inhabited for their food, and whatever damage occured, and for the items taken.

And he wondered, for the umpteenth time, just who the hell he was. Who they all were. And who had done this to him. Round and round, like birds circling the sky over something furry and still on the ground went his thoughts on this particular topic.

Ah well. What will be, will be. And he had his brothers after all.

He smiled.

Nine watched the bustle of the new arrivals as they went about securing Tom and his opponent. By observation, he could tell these new arrivals were primarily concerned about safety. Especially they're own. They projected authority and used it to control a situation, the weapons at their side were no doubt deadly, a last but effective resort if their authority failed to resolve a situation.

Nine suspected that continuing the fight was a losing scenario, especially on his own. Flight was a possibility, but alone, there was likely little he could do, and these 'police' would not likely let an 'animal' loose in a residential area, so he would become hunted. Not a feeling he relished. That left distraction and diplomacy.

Nine stood, and knuckled his way carefully, maintaining a non-agressive posture, to the entrance of the vehicle bay. He sat down, keeping his hands and feet well within the sight of the suddenly apprehensive watcher, met his gaze and spoke. "There is no need to call for Bruthe and his rifle. Perhapth, if you care to lithen, I can explain what has happened here, with the hope that you would aid mythelf and my friends." 

The officer's mouth opened and closed, opened and closed.  He seemed to be suffering from some kind of shock, and was perhaps about to defecate in his trousers.

"D-Did...do you...talk?"

"Of courthe. As I thaid, If you care to lithen, I'll attempt to exthplain. You are the commander of these men? The Thargeant? My companionth and I could use your aid." Nine's tone was patient, as it was apparent he was dealing with a lesser intellect.

"S-S-Sarge... SARGE!!!"  The officer turned towards the heavier, mustachioed man back by the cars.  "SARGE!!  C'mere!"

The other officer came running up.  "I told you not to get too close to that thing.  Bruce'll be here in a minute."

"He... He..." the first officer's finger pointed shakily at Nine.  "He talks."

"Who talks?"

"The monkey."

"What?"

"He talks.  He fucking talks!"

The seargent looked down at Nine skeptically.

Nine met the man's skeptical gaze evenly. He smiled, not showing his teeth. "It's Orangutan, not monkey." He said simply. "I would hope, as a leader of men, you would be able to appreciate the dithtinction."

Now both men were giving him a look as though they might crap their pants, at least until the sergeant put his hand on his gun and started looking around quickly.

"Be sharp," he told his partner, "Someone's obviously throwing their voice or something."

Tom watched as Nine spoke to the men, and wondered what must be going through their minds. Their expressions told of shock and amazement, which wasn't a bad thing. Nine's presence and obvious difference from others of his kind would help lend credence to their story, short as it may be. The older man tried to get more comfortable as he watched the goings on, wondering how the others were handling this latest wrinkle in their story. 

Nine swallowed a chuckle. Obviously these men had a hard time adapting to situations outside their normal expectations. "I athure you that no one thpeakth for me, but me." He said jovially. "I can also athure you that the use of your weapon1ths is not required. Nor is Bruthe and his rifle. I wish only to attempt to explain, and theek your aid." 

"Sarge..."

"Don't listen, it's a trick."  The sergeant was studying the inside of the garage for the ventriloquist.

"But Sarge..."

"Monkeys can't talk, dammit!" The seargent yelled.  He grabbed at the blocky microphone on his shoulder.  "Bruce, Murray - what's your fucking twenty?"

Nine sighed heavily. "Thargeant. Look at my lipth. Surely, no ventriloquitht could make my lipth move in time with my thpeech as accurately as I am without phythically manipulating them. You mutht lithten to me, BlacKnight sent these men, " he indicated the downed men in black, "to capture mythelf and my friendth. You arrived as we were attempting to defend ourthelves. While we had wished to remain more ... circumthpect. It theems we have no choice but to athk for your athithtanthe."

**Murray, Bruce - can it wait?  I'm up in Keyport running an errand.** This from the sergeant's radio.

"Shit!"  The sergeant looked at Nine and all around and back at Nine.  "Ah...okay.  Okay.  If you're really a talking chimp then you must understand what I'm saying, right?"

"Obviouthly." Nine said simply. "Though I can tell you're not a very athtute observer." The last he stated softly, annoyance filling him at his species being consistently mis-identified.

"Fine," the cop said.  "You're under arrest.  Billy, cuff him," the sergeant said to his partner with a point at Nine.

"What?  Me cuff him?  You cuff him.  Chimps are like, five times as strong as humans."

"Oh, what are you?  Some kind of monkey expert?"

"I watch Animal Planet."

"He's just a little guy."

"Got big teeth though."

The sargent face-palmed himself and said to Nine in simple baby-speak, "You're not gonna give us any trouble, right?  You're a good little monkey?"  He pulled a zip-tie from his utility belt.  "Come here little monkey," he said in a pleasant sing-song.  "Hold up your hands to Mr. Policeman."

"Sarge, he's a monkey, not a two-year old."

"Will you shut the fuck up!" Murray demanded.  Turning back to Nine, he contnued, "Come here, Mr. Talking Monkey Man. Nobody wants to hurt you."

Nine rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Thargeant Murray, is it really nethethary to continue to thlander me? I am an Orangutan, a thpecies of Great Ape, not, a monkey or a chimp. I find the conthtant reference demeaning and offenthive. Binding my handth is pointleth as I pose no threat to you, your men or anyone elthe. I am willing to comply. If I feared harm, I would have fled when I had the chanthe. Will you allow me to plead our cathe or mutht we continue the charade?"

"A chimp is a great ape," Billy corrected.

The seargent hesitated in his cautious approach and stated simply, "This is officially the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

"Look, ah, okay," he said, standing straighter but still looking totally uncomfortable and out of his element.  He thought for a moment and then dug back in with a greater degree of certainty. 

"Procedure," he said to Billy.  "We're going to stick to procedure and everything's going to be fine."  Under his breath he added, "And maybe when the Area 51 boys come looking for Bonzo here, I'll get to keep my job."

"Animals are Animal Control's problem.  Billy, you keep an eye on Mr. Orangutan here.  You don't hurt him, you don't talk to him, you just watch him.  If he leaves, you follow him.  If it looks like he's going to hurt somebody you shoot him but otherwise you wait until Bruce gets here and then he can decide what he wants to do."

As he started walking back towards his car, the seargent pulled his radio close to his mouth again.  "Bruce, Murray, get your ass here right now or so help me I'm going to feed you to your kennel!"

Nine sighed. So much for diplomacy. At least he wasn't confined at the moment. He nodded at Billy, "You are correct of courthe. Chimpanzees are a member of the great ape thpecies, I was letting my indignation get the better of me."  Nine watched him a moment, then moved into the garage, surveying the contents. As he moved, he spoke, his voice warm, slightly monotonous. "Billy? Is that your given name? It theemth thomewhat ... immature for an adult, but I am unfamiliar with your cuthtomth."

Billy didn't reply, he just looked on as Nine moved about the inside of the garage, clearly uncomfortable with having an ape talk to him. 

Nine sighed again, obviously the inhabitants of this place were not as adaptable as he thought. As his eyes wandered around the contents of the vehicle bay, a germ of an idea began to form. He turned to look at Billy, noticing the radio unit and how the piece at his shoulder was both speaker and transmitter. He also remembered a dish like device on the outside of the house, quite probably a satellite reception unit for the entertainment devices. His eyes found a junction box, near where he remembered seeing it.

A few other items completed the design. He shuffled over to a box, near the work bench. Amongst a bunch of toys, apparently ready for the discard pile, was an electronic device. On it was what appeared to be a microphone. He gathered the device in a long fingered hand and walked, upright, to a shelf nearby where what appeared to be a device design to convert radio waves into sound.

Nine gathered this device as well, and headed back to workbench, depositing his treasures there. He scooted a stool from another corner over to the workbench and paused to examine the first two components of his escape plan.

A quick examination of the casing showed metallic fasterners holding the plastic casing of both devices together, he casually reach out a long arm and snagged what appeared to be an appropriate tool, its long metal shaft had a wooden handle on one end and the other tapered to a point and was crossed. It fit perfectly into the slots on the back of the small fasteners.

He quickly exposed the guts of both devices, finding enough circuitry and wiring to easily create what he wanted. The hardest part was remaining un threatening so that Billy or Sargeant Murray didn't feel the need to intercede. His hands worked as if the had minds of their own while his mind seemed to segment, a portion of it, performing quickly the complex calculations necessary to bring the device to fruition. Another portion of his mind was scanning his memory of the interior for necessary parts. Obviously a powersource would be needed as neither device had any. He remembered seeing what appeared to be a charging port of some kind on a wall near the door.

He plugged a primitive soldering device into a wall outlet to allow it to heat up while he scooted off the stool and headed over to the charging port.

"Wha-What are you doing?" Billy inquired of Nine.

Nine quickly pulled the two power packs out of the charging unit, noting the voltage and amperage on their labels, just the thing he needed. He turned to Billy. "I'm building a hyperthonic pulthe emiter, designed to interfathe with the thatellite retheption dish and create a thonic feedback loop with the precise frequency and amplitude to interfere with neural impultheth." 

Nine smiled, and went back to the work bench, humming tunelessly to himself as he put actions to words.

Billy scratched his head and looked askance at Nine and then over to his sergeant, who was over by the cars on his radio.  He shook his head and resumed his watch on the odd primate.

Nine wasn't surprised at Billy's reaction to his statement of intent. He'd figured that neither of the men would believe him, they barely believed he was able to talk. The fools. At least it allowed him the freedom to work, unmolested. For the moment.

He quickly, yet efficiently, began assembling the device, the solder and iron filled the area over his head with a fine layer of smoke and the rest of the bay with an acrid odor.

A similar scene played out behind the house.  The official-looking paramilitary types circled around to the back yard, hands on their still-holstered guns.  When they saw the gun in the hand of the man between Ghost and Al, those guns leapt up to a ready-fire position, trained on that man.

"Police!  Drop the gun!  Do it!"

The man froze and then relaxed slowly.  His grip on the weapon slackened until it hung loosely from one finger.  He let it fall out to his side.

"Get on the ground, all of you!"

The man who had dropped his gun hadn't waited for the command.  He was already calmly on his way to his knees en route to lying face down in the thick, green grass.  His head turned away from the officers to smirk at Ghost before he came to rest.

Al sank to his knees slowly, hands raised to show the newcomers he held no weapons.

"If you get the chance," Al whispered to Ghost, "kill him."

Ghost frowned, though whether at Al's comment or at the situation as whole it was difficult to tell. His eyes shifted from his recent opponent to the men in uniform. Whether by decree, by authority or by power, the uniformed men obviously commanded respect, even from their enemies. Simple logic dictated a "wait and see" approach. For now.

With exaggerated care the Asian slowly dropped to his knees and laid on the ground.

"Hands on your head," one of the cops barked at Al.  "Lie all the way down."

As soon as Al complied, the cop crouched with his knee in Al's back and pulled his right hand down to his lower back before fastening a metal shackle to that wrist.  He repeated the process until Al's hands were bound behind his back as he lay face-down in the grass.

"Just stay there, big guy, and don't move," the officer told him as he moved on to Ghost.  His partner was already performing the same procedure on the man who had the gun.

Ghost waited until the cop was almost upon him to flex his entire body. He moved like a spring uncoiling, going from fully supine to a fighting stance in one fluid motion. He smiled and moved.

With the cops focused on Ghost's sudden movement, Al tensed his arms and applied a little pressure to the cuffs.  The plan was to break them without being too obvious about it.  They didn't budge.  It took almost a full effort before the links binding the shackles together snapped.  The two officers were focused fully on the suddenly resurgent Asian and failed to notice.

The officers pulled black fighting sticks from their belts and surrounded Ghost, offering one clearly-worded directive.  "Get on the ground right now!"

Ghost was in a mood, but he pushed down his anger and frustration and focused on his opponents. Authority, definitely, but so far no indication of particular power or skill. He glanced from one to the other and back again, dropping into a ready stance.

"No." Ghost moved quickly, sliding into a crouch, his foot lashing out at the uniformed man who so recently cuffed his opponent, hoping for a quick takedown. He wasn't looking to kill these men. Not yet, anyway.

The officer pinwheeled sideways with a yelp and landed hard on his shoulder, dazed.

Al reached out and grabbed the fallen officer, who offered scant resistance, and pinned him to the ground.  "Good of you to join me.  Let's stay here and watch the master at work."

Ghost turned from the fallen man, perfectly happy to let Al hold him, and faced off against the other officer, his mind cataloging details of his opponent. Basic fighting stance, fighting stick, no serious training, additional armament on his belt. A quick takedown, then, before reinforcements arrived.

Ghost moved quickly, seeking to slide in under the other man's guard and deal a stunning blow.  His target had more time to prepare and used his stick to block.  Ghost found it child's play to change his approach in mid-attack and slipped a palm strike into the man's chest that drove the air from his lungs and a decent amount of spit from his mouth.  The cop staggered back a step and a half before falling backwards onto his rump, clutching at his chest.

From their spots by the front door and on the main stairway, NotBetty and Betty respectively heard the screeching arrival of the officers and their shouted commands.  Through the lace-covered side panels of the front doorway they could see some of them run around to the back of the house where Ghost and Al had gone. 

Standing by a sleeping, duct-taped Robert Fox, the two identical young women realized they had a scant minute before the newly-arrived officers entered the home and confronted them, too.

The quiet twin clutched her soft purple bag to her chest and looked desperately for a place to hide.  Finally after swinging her wild eyed gaze around, she scuttled towards the stairs that held the door to the room that she had visited with the Asian.  As she hurried up the stairs she grabbed Betty's hand and tugged at it, obviously not wanting to be alone.  Betty glanced back regretfully at Robert Fox, now certain that her fun with him was over, and followed her twin up the steps.

Sunlight filled the room as it shone in through the twin skylights and the large window set high in one wall.  Faint sounds of forceful, controlled shouting filtered up through the floor from the vehicle bay.  Otherwise the room was quiet if somewhat warmer than the rest of the house.

The quiet twin paced frantically in front of Betty, whimpering and clutching her soft velvet bag to her chest.  Finally she pegged her twin with the full force of her pathetic hazel eyes and spoke. "Help?  Help?"

Not waiting for an answer, she moved the chair up to where the high window was, and stood atop it, testing for a way to open it.  It slid up easily to let cool air from the outside pass into the room.  There was a thin screen acting as a barrier between her and the outside.

The impatient twin felt the riveted surface for a moment.  When her hands felt the metal frame, she began running her nimble fingers over it. looking for a catch or quiet way to remove it. "Help. Help."  She murmured the phrase again with urgency as she tried to find a way to gain purchase to the roof outside.

There were two pegs in the lower edges of the screen.  With deft little fingers NotBetty was able to pull them inward and release the screen.  It tumbled outward unexpectedly and fell to the ground some fifteen feet below.  There was no place for her to stand outside the window, no ledge.  It was just an opening high in the exterior wall.

With quiet care, NotBetty pulled the upper part of her body through the window and looked around.  She could hear the sounds of the strangers, and ducked back in just as two were walking underneath her window.  She turned briefly to regard her twin with eyes wide with uncertainty and fear, and then resumed her precarious position, half way in and half way out of the window.

After she was sure the black and whites were past, she dropped to the ground, trying to mimic the Asian's silent footfalls from earlier.  She landed safely and quietly in a low crouch.  The sounds of a ruckus came from behind the house.  Sounds of conversation came from the front.  Betty followed her twin through the window, though with less stealth, she stumble to her knees upon landing. 
 
Remembering exactly where her anchor went, the quiet twin moved towards the back of the house.  Staying close to the exterior walls, she snuck to the corner to take in the scene that she could hear unfolding.  Betty surveyed the scene and regarded her twin with bewilderment, "I thought your plan was to escape, not run right back into this fight."

Ghost had half a second to enjoy his easy victory before two more of the officers appeared at the gate in the fence leading to the front of the house.  These two took one look at what was going on and drew down on the scene, handguns raised and trained on the Asian.

"Freeze!"  They both shouted as they made a wary approach.  "Hands on your head, right now!  Do it!"  One went as far as to add, "Don't make me kill you, it's not worth it."

Meanwhile, quietly passing through the gate behind the officers was NotBetty, looking lost and not a little bit worried, and Betty who was looking a little perturbed.

"Help. Help." The anxious twin continued to murmur in reply to her twin. 

Betty scowled at the other blonde, "just shut up," she surveyed the area as she growled through clenched teeth, "how 'bout we NOT draw attention to ourselves."

Hearing the twins arrive, Al smiled and maintained his grip on the downed officer.  This should be fun.

Ghost turned slowly to face the two armed officers. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gauged distance, potential strikes and the odds of injury from their firearms.

"I'd ask you to surrender," he said, "But somehow I don't believe you'd take me up on the offer." He sighed, almost reluctantly. "We shall do this the hard way, then."

Ghost burst into motion. One moment he was standing still, the next he was running across the grass toward the officers...and closing fast.

Two guns fired simultaneously.  Ghost twisted in the air violently to avoid the shots and landed in a low, almost prone four-point stance.  The cops seemed more than a little surprised, more than enough to throw them off their focus.  Ghost leapt into the air and executed a perfect somersault before firing his legs out and down into the chest of the officer on the right.  The cop dropped like a sack of potatoes left out in the rain.

When he was done and he whirled on the second cop, the surprise on his opponent's face had become something else, something with a greater fear element, the eyes wavering in confusion.  Crouched in a ready stance, Ghost looked at his arms held in front of him saw what everyone else in the backyard could see, or rather, what they couldn't see.

He had become transparent.

Not Betty's anxiety went up several notches when the Asian disappeared.  She assumed that the weapons that these strangers had in their possession, must have somehow removed him from existence.  With surprising speed, she sprung from her sister's side and came up behind the shocked officer.  In one swift movement she forcefully grabbed the gun and twisted it and the hand holding it downward, towards her.  The move ended as she twisted the officer's gun and hand upside down, binding him, while ejecting the clip.  Her free hand came up seemingly of it's own accord and caught and then emptied the clip one-handed using her thumb.  Then she smoothly replaced the clip and assumed a fighting stance.

The cop, clearly stunned at this point, watched NotBetty open-mouthed for a few moments before asking furtively, "Who are you people?"

The odd twin glowered at the officer and stated a demand.  "I want man back."

Al stood, slowly, smiling at the officer.  "That is an extremely good question."  He crouched down next to the cuffed man still prone and whispered.  "You move, you die.  It's that simple."

"Bloody idiots," the man mumbled angrily.  "You're out of your mind, do you know that?"

"Do shut up.  Technically, you moved.  But I'm feeling generous."

The cop bolted like a deer, one minute standing, the next sprinting for the gate he'd arrived through.  He yelled, "Sarge!  Call SWAT!  Sarge!" as he ran.

Out by the garage, Billy watched Nine with growing alarm.  "Um, Sarge?  It looks like he's building something."

Over by the cars, Sergeant Murray moved the radio mike he was using away from his mouth long enough to answer back, "Just make sure he doesn't go anywhere.  Bruce is on his way."

Two cops came out the front door.  "We got one male, thirties," one called over to the sergeant, "unconscious and nonresponsive, probably drugs.  Looks like he's been interrogated.  Better call an EMT."

The sergeant nodded and the two officers took a relaxed position by the front door to talk.

Nine put the finishing touches on his hypersonic pulse emitter by connecting the two power sources. He sat back on his haunches and admired his work. What sat on the work bench before him looked like nothing more than a random conglomeration of electronic and plastic parts. Nine sighed, it lacked the aesthetic component of a more finished piece and he felt it was certainly not one of his best efforts, though what those were in all honesty he didn't know. It would function, despite it's appearance, and would most assuredly only work the one time, but he estimated it's effects to last somewhere between five to ten minutes. Certainly long enough to allow them to escape, if he could get the rest to act precipitiously.

The only true snag was that it was an indiscriminate device. Anyone near enough to an active radio reception device would be affected. In maximizing it's potential affect on these police persons, he'd had to boost the power output, thus making sure his compatriots were also in the effect zone.

He could only hope that what made them unique, would protect them from the neural interruption. He slid off the chair and gathered his ungainly creation in his long arms. He waddled to the junction box he'd noted earlier. A few quick twists of the fasteners exposed the inner workings. He examined the jumbled mass of wires and connections before locating the single broadcast line. He undid the line, pulled out as much slack wire as he could, then hefted the device into place, attaching the line to a waiting receptacle.

Looking back towards the rear of the house he said simply, "Al, you might want to cover your earth." He counted slowly to five then powered on the device.

In the garden, Al did as Nine had suggested, much to the confusion of those around him.

Sound...the most terrible combination imaginable of glass breaking, fingernails on chalkboard, and someone crushing a parakeet under their boot.  It was loud to the point of painful insanity.  It was mind-shattering.

The cop who had run for the gate tripped over his own feet and slammed right into it, only to rebound backwards down onto the lawn where his body twisted from the intense aural assault.  Groans came from the cops on the ground and the other man who had surendered to them.  Even with his hands clamped firmly over his ears, Al's head throbbed from the sound's impact.  Ghost, Betty, and NotBetty felt their teeth rattle in their sockets.

Out front, Nine watched impassively as Billy, Murray, and the two cops by the front door grabbed their heads and spun to the ground in writing heaps.  Several windows on the officials' ground cars shattered and the ape realized that Tom and the leader of the other group were being assaulted in their vehicular prisons.  A passerby driving another ground car, a larger one like the one in which the assault team had arrived, swerved and struck the retaining wall across the street from the driveway.  The driver, a woman, was already unconscious when her vehicle stopped.

When Nine cut power to his improvised weapon, all of the police officers were unconscious.  Everyone was, save his little band. 

In the back seat of the sergeant's car, Tom lazed groggily and tried to understand what had just happened.  Understanding was not coming easy and only gave him a headache in the aftermath of that wicked sound.