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Funeral of a Friend

"We'll find them," Maggie said, breaking into Max's train of thought. He had just dropped a handful of dirt onto the casket and was remembering a time on the subway that had brought a hint of a smile to his lips and water to his eyes.

Max looked from the hole in the ground to Maggie; tears stung his eyes like a foreign substance. He could see that she was taking this harder than he had thought.

"We'll hunt every last one of them," Maggie went on in a very cold and distant voice. She stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. She didn't look at the casket in the ground, just the headstone.

"And what are we going to do when we find them?" Max asked. This was a side of Maggie that Max rarely saw; a look of determination, hatred and murderous intent burning in her eyes. At the moment she was like a mother bear who had lost a cub and she was going to get violent.

"Exterminate each and every one of them," Maggie said; her eyes were cold as a lunar sea. "First we'll make them pay."

"I'm in," Frank said. "We knew what we were getting into in this secret war, that there would be casualties. This one hits close to home."

"Count me in too," Goner added. He stepped forward and picked up a handful of dirt and dropped it onto the casket.

"Let's do this," Angst said morosely. She stepped away from the open grave and faced the gang.

Maggie was about to say something but Max's cellphone went off and she glanced to him. Max fished his phone out of his pocket and answered it before the second chime could kick in.

"Yes," was all he said into the phone.

They stood there and watched Max on the phone. They knew it was a vital call; who else calls during a time like this.

"Okay, just give us time to get ready," he said into the phone. And then flipped it shut and turned to his compatriots. "That was the Professor. He got a lead on the Architects' assassins."