The latino youth groaned, clutching his head, shook it and then looked over at the woman beside him yelling orders. At first the words made no sense, then he played them back in his mind and realized what they meant. Opening the door he got out and stood, circling the crashed vehicles, stopping only momentarily to kick some poor idiot in the face.

"Gotcha," he replied and followed.

As he hit the dock he pulled the pins on those last two grenades, ensuring that nobody would by following them from this dock at least. Any who tried would have to brave the gas to get at any of the boats moored there. Then he moved on towards the indicated boat, jumping smoothly onto the rear deck and then, at her direction, into the pilot's cabin.

"Watch it homes," Carlos said as he turned the key in the ignition, "Don't fall off the back of the boat now."

Gunning the engine, the prow immediately rose up into the air as the black and white police boat launched forwards. The aft simultaneously lowered, the rim of the deck almost hitting the water's surface as the boat launched itself up on the plane.

"Yo!" he proclaimed suddenly, "Beware Stilwater, the red tide is a coming in!"