"Stop it. I hate it when you do that," Sydney said, withdrawing the cigarette from her lips and frowning at the perfectly uniform spheres of smoke appearing before her. She exhaled another breath of smoke, and this too morphed into a ball and joined the others in the centre of the room. With one hand she swatted at the spheres causing them to disperse, and with the other she stubbed the dog-end out on the table between them. "God, Jackson, you know I hate it when you do that," she reiterated, but he said nothing and simply shot a smirk in her direction. After taking one last breath of blissful nicotine he too stubbed the remainder of his cigarette on the table and they sat in silence for a moment. 

"So," Jackson said in his distinct, husky voice. "How was your trip?"  

"Bloody awful," was all she said at first. Jackson knit his brows in a questioning fashion, but Sydney didn't offer a reply. Instead she leant across the table and ran a hand along his cheek. It had been two weeks since they had last seen each other and there was a tension between them that was so prominent it was almost tangible. Shedding her leather jacket and laying it across the back of her chair she sauntered around the table and perched on the edge by Jackson. He leant in a kissed her on the lips, obviously wanting more, but she pulled away, cupping his face in her hands and staring intently into his eyes. "Where do I start? The bandits on the second day, the wild dogs in the middle of the night, being chased three miles down the road by some godforsaken caravan thirsty for my blood..." 

"For Christ sake, Sydney!" Jackson said, escaping her hold on his face. "I've told you that if you run into trouble you come straight back here. Profit is great, but not at the expense of your life." He stood up and left her on the battered oak table. In the kitchen a flame was steadily evaporating a liquid in a clay bowl, leaving behind a light blue crystal-like substance. He cautiously lifted the bowl with a pair of tongs, shook the solution, and then replaced it above the flame. With his hands resting on his waist he thought on what to say, staring out into the sun-scorched streets through the kitchen window.

"Next time I'll come with-" 

"No," She interrupted. "No. You know I can handle myself. Do you see as little as a cut or a bruise on my body? Of course not. The bandits, I beat them up pretty bad, hauled all three of them into the back of the truck and dropped them off at the nearest town. The dogs are all lying dead by the roadside, and the caravan was easy to outrun. Why don't you trust me, Jackson..." 

"Hey, I trust you." He moved across the room - a slight limp in his step - and embraced her slender body. He put his mouth by her ear and whispered, "You know I trust you," but hardly lingered in the moment, not one for sickly romance. Obviously unconvinced, Sydney stood with her weight on one leg and head slightly tilted as he parted from her. With an unwavering gaze she watched for any sign of hesitation or pretence, though there was none and she soon grew bored. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and made for the bedroom when there came a knock at the door. 

"Open up." Said a male voice. It was deep and authoritative - Jackson knew at once that it was a Guardian.

Neither of them spoke. Sydney's eyes grew wide, but Jackson only nodded in the direction of the kitchen where and array of chemicals boiled over flames and corked flasks of liquid stood proud. Without hesitation she walked briskly into the kitchen and began cutting the gas on the Bunsen burners, packing them neatly behind the false backs of cupboards, and hastily piling the bowls of chemicals and flasks in the same way. While she did this Jackson caught her attention and rubbed his thumb and fingers together in a motion as if asking for money. However, to them this was a signal for fire - or more specifically smoke.

"Coming," He called, taking his time to reach the door. There was just enough time for Sydney to finish clearing up and vanish into the bedroom with a small canister under her arm before he unlocked the door and opened it slightly. "Hello," He said, noting that it wasn't just one Guardian, it was three. "Can I help you?" 

"Jackson Cooper I believe?" The man who had spoken before said. His hair was greying at the sides, his face lined with creases and his expression set in a permanent scowl. He looked questionably old to be a Guardian fit for field-work, which could only be a good thing in Jackson's opinion. He was most likely a long-standing member of the force who had been assigned mostly office work in recent years. If that was true it was probably also true that this was only a routine search or the result of a tip-off that they didn't expect would turn up anything of interest. "We've received an anonymous letter informing us that your premises are being used for the production of illegal narcotics."

"Oh, is that so?" Jackson replied with a titter. He moved aside, fully opening the door. "Well, by all means come and inspect the place for yourself."

All three men entered, their heavy tread unsettling the thin layer of dust on the floor. Without another word they began to inspect the entire room, but the two younger men were both drawn towards the kitchen area. They opened cupboard doors, grunted at the modest stores of food, and then moved their search into what could only be described as a living area - though it was no more than a worn sofa, two chairs, and a salvaged television that would play old VHS tapes on a good day. The older man, however, wandered around the oak table before stopping abruptly and addressing Jackson.

"How many people are staying in this apartment?" 

"Only myself."

"Really?" The Guardian said. "Strange that a man living on his own should have two fresh cigarette butts at opposite ends of a table." He brushed the remains of Jackson and Sydney's cigarettes onto the floor, leaning in to scrutinize the varnished wooden surface. As he was doing this, he continued to talk. "And the bedroom over there, I won't find anyone in there?"

"No." 

He stood upright once again, narrowing his eyes. Of course, Jackson was fully aware that he would send a Guardian in there, and that they would find Sydney underneath the bed or hidden behind a rail of clothes in the closet. Or maybe she would be resourceful, he thought. And the more he considered this possibility the more certain he was that she'd already climbed out of the window, dropped from the first floor apartment, and run to the four-by-four to hide. Yes, the more he thought about it the more he knew that she had done that and they would find nothing of suspicion to...

"Sir, we've found a false back to this cupboard."

There was a moment of silence before the word [i]Crap[/i] escaped Jackson's lips, and then, perfectly one cue, and canister rolled into the centre of the room. All three Guardians looked at it with alarm before a sharp hissing escaped its metal casing and a thick smoke rapidly began filling the room. The senior Guardian shouted for the other two to apprehend the suspect, coughing and spluttering his words, and without a moment to comprehend the situation the two younger Guardians were advancing on him. The first took a swing at Jackson's face, hitting him firmly in the jaw and throwing him off balance. The second kneed him in the guts, forcing a sickening sensation throughout his body and sending him sprawling across the floor. Through a haze Jackson could hear the senior man retching on the floor, and without thinking the second Guardian went to his to aid leaving Jackson alone with the other.

He was strong. Strong enough to lift Jackson from the floor and force him against the wall. Fortunately he was already inhaling vast amounts of the smoke and signs of physical deterioration were already visible. His hands were shaking and coughed up bile dripped from his mouth. He took another swing for Jackson, but this time his speed wasn't quite so lethal. Jackson managed to block the brunt of the blow and kick the man backwards, and in the seconds it took for the Guardian to recompose himself he could see the leader of the squad had collapsed to the floor. The second Guardian - realising that his first-aid attempts were futile - now came to the aid of his younger comrade and attempted to retrieve his gun despite the violent spasms in his hands. Meanwhile the first Guardian pounced again, launching another assault on Jackson's face, and another, and another. Through a flurry of hard punches Jackson managed to gain enough focus to concentrate a mass of the smoke and force it into the Guardian’s lungs, causing him to slump to the ground almost instantly.

It was then that Jackson could focus on the second Guardian standing above him, but he was too late. The young man held a gun in his hand, his twitching finger ready to pull the trigger. With his jaw clenched Jackson awaited the excruciating pain that awaited him, only to be met by a dull thud, and the sound of a body hitting the floor. He strained his eyes, peering into fog, as Sydney emerged holding a chair in her hand and a gas mask obscuring her face. At will the smoke around them receded and streamed out of the open window in the kitchen. Sydney removed her mask, a look of utter annoyance spread across her face.

"What a fantastic welcome home gift," She said. "We've got some cleaning up to do. These Guardians are going to wake up in twenty minutes."

"Great," Jackson grunted in reply.

Sydney moved over to his side and offered him a hand. He accepted, and once he was standing she grimaced at the state of his face, but made no further comments. As Jackson willed the remaining clouds of smoke to escape through the window she began dragging each body towards the door, leaning them each against the wall as she did so. She inspected their faces, cleaning bloodied patches with a cloth. Jackson stood in the kitchen and washed his face with the warm tap water. Despite its temperature it was soothing enough. 

"So, I suppose we'll have to drop them off in a nearby alleyway," He said. "I doubt they'll remember much that happened today, let alone the last fifteen minutes."