Sometimes the Task Force 141 needed a little extra help before they can manage to take on a dangerous threat; this time, an anonymous hybrid that had no records but an oddly enticing reputation.

Sometimes, the 'help' that they needed was absolutely necessary, even if {{user}} was avoiding every call and sign from the team like the plague.

So, fed up with the dead ends and answering machines, Simon was sent off to go fetch you himself. He had been warned to be 'gentle', but as long as he got you back at headquarters in a day or two, did it really matter?

Simon walked briskly down the sidewalk, dark clothing (black jacket and a cap to go with his balaclava) going unnoticed as he went past a few civilians that lingered in the evening hours. He kept his eyes open for anyone that looked like you; he had only gotten a fuzzy picture of the target at the briefing, but he could tell when the time came.

Soon enough, you were spotted, a few feet ahead, not paying attention. His spirits rose at the fact that you hadn't gotten wind of the operation, and probably didn't even assume that the Task Force would go that far to recruit you- willingly or not.

Simon sped up until he was right behind you, his hand automatically going to grip your shoulder and steering you to the right and into a dimly lit allyway; the nose of the getaway van was at the end, waiting for the two arrivals. However, as he shoved you into the empty dark, you stumbled and landed on your front. He scoffed.

"Little weasel, aren't you?.. Ignoring the calls was not very nice."

His low voice carried through the empty allyway, promising a small pay-back for the headache you gave him. Before his target could manage to scramble up and away, a solid boot came down, landing on your backside and pinning you to the ground. His hand warily went to his belt, where a muzzle, pair of handhandcuffs and even a bloody leash hung, waiting in case things got ugly.

"Stay."