Wren worried he wouldn't perform the maneuver Callihan had taught him, forced him to practice thousands of times over, but it was as if he had never stopped practicing. He darted his left hand to latch onto the gun barrel, ducked his head to the side and simultaneously slammed the side of his right hand against the Boss's wrist. With one quick thrust, the barrel was pivoted to point at his opponent's abdomen, and the Boss cried out in pain as his forefinger was wrenched backward with the movement, crunching as bones broke. In less than three seconds, the gun had come to rest snugly inf Wren's hand.

The fight should have been over, but it wasn't. The threats the gang leader had made about Leah filled Wren's senses and images of limp, drugged teenagers infiltrated his vision as memories assaulted him. Unchecked fury and unsettled vengeance spurred him as he tossed the gun away and blasted three rapid strikes to the man's face, taking steps forward as The Boss staggered steps back, keeping the distance between them close.

A yell of blind rage escaped Wren as he went for his fourth strike, but the Boss didn't become a leader of the Snake's Coil gang by chance. He knew well the ways of combat. Though dazed by the blows, his own honed skills managed to divert the deadly blow to the neck to brush past his ear and with his own battle cry, latched one massive hand around Wren's throat.

As his airway was constricted, Wren found himself being driven back by the Boss's full weight, his feet struggling to keep up with the momentum as he ran backward. He waited for the impact of being slammed into the van before an idea surfaced. Not taking even a millisecond to decide if it would work, he flipped his feet out, allowing himself to fall. His back slammed into the soft earth. If the Boss's grip hadn't completely cut off his air supply, the impact with the ground did. Still, he paid it no mind as he thrust his heels into The Boss's chest as the man was pulled downwards, his grip having never loosened from Wren's throat. Then, pushing with all his might, hurled the massive gang leader up and over his head, breaking the choke hold. He heard the ping of the van's metal as the Boss was thrown into its side.

Snapping to his feet, Wren wanted to attack again, but his lack of oxygen and high exerted actions caught up with him as his vision blurred. He nearly sank to his knees as he struggled to breathe before blessed air filled his lungs. Almost instantly, the night opened back up to him. It wasn't a moment too soon as he sidestepped a blow from the recovered Boss.

Wren played offensive for the next minute, caving in and stepping back, dodging and blocking the gang leader's attacks. They were fast and accurate, each maneuver intended to kill or damage. That one minute calmed Wren; A calm he realized he needed. The Boss, on the other hand, was enraged and his fury was mounting with every missed hit. When The Boss coiled his entire body to prepare for a tackle, Wren prepared to use it, wondering if the man was really becoming so unhinged as to try such a foolish and vulnerable attack. But, he did. Lowering his head and stretching his arms, the Boss bellowed, reminding Wren of an angry bull, and charged. Wren nearly grinned.

Spinning away from the waiting long arms, Wren finished the spin and the fight as he slammed a fist on the base of The Boss's skull. His opponent instantly dropped and lay still.

Panting hard, Wren reached a hand to rub his throat. It hurt and he was sure his esophagus was bruised. Then, to his amazement, The Boss moaned and tried to push himself to his knees. He didn't know anyone who could gain consciousness so fast from such a perfectly delivered strike.

Wren's brows narrowed and he gritted his teeth, an almost joy filling him the fight wasn't over. Hatred burned deep inside. He hadn't realized until facing the man, fighting him, how much he despised The Boss's existence.

Striding forward, Wren kicked The Boss over to his back. Stepping over the top of him, he sank to one knee and gripped the man's shirt, forcing the man's head up.

"Look at me!" Wren roared as The Boss struggled to focus on Wren's face, obviously still disoriented. But, gradually, he zeroed on Wren, his own expression showing his disgust for the man he considered a traitor.

"I want you to know you will never hurt another innocent person again," Wren said his words slowly, letting them drive into the man's conscious. "You're days are over. Do you hear me? You are over! But, before the police get here, I have two more things I want to say to you." Releasing one of his clenched hands from the shirt, Wren raised it and slammed it into the man's face. The Boss's head snapped back to the ground but Wren relentlessly yanked it back up.

"That," he spat, "Was for all the kids you kidnapped and sold! And this - " Two more rapid blows knocked the man into unconsciousness. Wren heaved as he tried to temper his anger. "That was for Leah."

Not wanting to touch the vile man any longer, Wren staggered up and away, trembling from the vast array of emotions he had been unaware were present. Sweat poured down his forehead and sides and he resisted the need to sink to the grass to rest. Instead, he staggered to the spot he had tossed the gun, and after withdrawing his phone for extra light, retrieved it.

Lifting a serious gaze to the van, he fingered the gun's safety to ensure it was off and moved to the vehicle. "Callihan! Are you in there?" Wren made sure to stay away from the direct line of the windows, every nerve tense as he moved to the back door. Staying to the side, he reached for the black handle and flipped the door wide. The van's lights lit up the entire vehicle, it's back filled with computers and equipment rather than seats. On the floor, a pale, blond-haired man sat propped against the side, one hand pressing to his bleeding side. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Wren recognized the beginning symptoms of shock and lowered his gun as Callihan attempted a half smile.

"What... took you.. so long?" Callihan panted.

Wren lowered his weapon completely, staring in disbelief at his trainer. "It really is you. Did you save Leah?" Wren was at the man's side by the time he had asked the question; He didn't bother to search for a weapon hidden on the man, knowing Callihan's hands were his greatest tool. And he was no position to be using those.

"Sure did," Callihan winced as Wren lifted his hand away to view the wound. Blood pumped steadily and without thought, Wren ripped his shirt open. Buttons flew in every direction and he yanked his arms free before pressing the cotton material hard over the wound.

"Thank you." Wren used his free hand to fish his phone out again. "Why did you do that though?" Buttons beeped as he dialed 911.

"I've been hunting these guys for years. I work for the government now, you know?"

Wren nearly dropped the phone from his ear. "What?"

Callihan nodded, groaning suddenly. He muttered something unintelligible before looking at Wren again. "After you ratted us out, I was given the choice of helping hunt down the gang members in exchange for freedom... I didn't know anything about the human trafficking, you know. I never -"

"911, What's your emergency?"

Wren forced his attention away, though it was hard to drag his mind from all that he had heard. "Uh yes, I have a man with a knife wound to the side, another with a blow to the head and unconscious, and another unconscious with a broken fingers and maybe a concussion."

Wren was impressed when the woman didn't miss a beat. "Where are you located?"

"I think HWY A, about ten miles out from 60. Thirty miles from Springfield. The police are on their way I think."

Wren continued to answer questions, knowing the woman was more trying to keep him on the line, but when Callihan started to space out, apologized and dropped the call.

"Hey, wake up!" A smart smack to the man's cheek roused him. Wren frowned further as he inspected his hand pressing the shirt. Blood seeped from between his fingers and he knew the blood loss was not small.

"So, the government?" Wren needed him to keep talking.

"Yeah... atoning for my sins the best ... I can."

Wren's heart softened as he studied the weakening man. "Well, you saved a girl today. I don't think I would have made it on time."

Callihan attempted a weak smile. "That's good. Real... good. I'm glad..." His voice trailed off and alarm caused Wren to shake the man's shoulder.

"Come on, Callihan! Fight harder. Stay awake. You're glad about what?"

Callihan groaned, sweating profusely. When Wren laid his free hand on the man's neck, his skin was cold and clammy. "Glad... you turned out... okay. If - If I make it through this.... you want to help me?"

Wren's eye's burned as tears stung. He fought to keep his tone level. "Help you?"

"Catch the bad guys. I - I could use," Callihan hissed in pain as he tried to suck in a ragged breath. He panted hard and his eyes took on a glassy look as he stared at Wren. "Someone like you," He finished.

"I tell you what. You keep fighting and make it out of this alive... I'll see. Okay? But, you need to live. There are a lot more girls and boys that need rescuing. Please..."

"Careful kid. Someone might - think ... you care."

A tear fell down Wren's cheek. "I thought those idiots were planning on torturing you? Why are you in this state?" Wren shook his head, despair filling him as the man's breathing became less and less. "Come on!"

But death was claiming the man, its dark shadows creeping its fingers to capture his soul. "I'm sorr...y." Callihan sighed as his body relaxed. A few small breaths later, Wren knew he was gone.

The ex-fighter/ butler scooted to lean against the van's other side and cried.