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The drive to Fargo was abnormally quiet. Eric did not speak very much after what he had done to the innocent man he had shoved onto the road. He was not distraught, but sick of terrorizing everyone who hated him for all the wrong reasons. He knew no one would hate him as much if he was a lion or a monkey, but instead, he had to bear being a dragon while trying to run away, killing many people in his path.

Matt took necessary precautions in order not to attract attention thanks to their new car's condition. He rolled down the side windows to hide the broken glass, and tore the remains of the front windshield. The car itself was in a very bad shape as well; there were many marks and dents, the bumper was destroyed, the trunk hatch broke off, and the side-view mirrors were busted. It was not the most pleasant car to drive, but they could not risk another incident to simply acquire a better looking car.

Finally, after four hours of driving, the two made it to Fargo, North Dakota. The city was located on the extreme east side of the state, literally bordering nearby Michigan. While Eric was looking at the cityscape smoothly go by from the highway, Matt pondered over two things: where his friend lived, and how they would make it there without being detected. For one, he had not seen him for ten years, and had only come to visit him at his house once, so he knew it would become a challenge to find him. He would also need to trash his car somewhere, picking another one up legally. When entering the city, he recognized many buildings and signs from his past visit, however one of the roads stuck out from the others, ultimately making him head through it. Eric soon lost interest in the city itself and began to wonder where Matt was going.

"Hey, Matt; you've never really mentioned where we were going. Who's your friend?"

"Well, he's a very popular graphic designer and he's made many logos and projects for a few big companies. I met him in high school and we were good friends, but his parents decided to move here to the US. We stayed in touch on the internet and I've... been here before but, I can't seem to remember much about this place."

Eric chuckled. "What, you don't even know how to get there?"

"Erm, well, not really. I haven't been here for the past ten years, but I know I've been down this road before. It goes on for a little while and then heads into a residential area, I think. Either way, we aren't going anywhere without the passports, so we have no other choice but to look."

They continued to search for about a half an hour. After a while, Matt was completely brain dead. He knew he had no idea where he was, but he did not want to let his friend down. They had come much too far to turn back. He parked his car alongside a curb in the street to think. He did not speak; he simply thought and looked around, yet no memory of the place came to his mind. He could not understand how he could have forgotten so easily. In his view, Eric was most likely disappointed toward their progress, and it was his entire fault. He figured if he continued to trigger mistake after mistake, there was no point in him trying to help. He would probably end up making a huge error later, which would eventually lead to their capture. Too much responsibility was required, and too much care needed to be taken. He slammed his head against his wheel and clinched his teeth in frustration. Eric did not abandon his stare - it was obvious what he was mad about.

"Matt, it's no big deal if we can't find your friend", he reassured. "I'm sure we can just find someone else to make the passport."

"No, it's not that..." He was still against the wheel, looking at the dusty floor mat his feet laid on. "When I decided to help you, I had no idea it would be this hard. From the minute we met over at the wind farm, I was slammed with responsibilities - money management, transportation 'arrangements', planning, running, making sure you have food... it's too much." He lifted his head and looked out of the broken windshield in front of him, hands extended to the wheel for a few moments. He then sighed and placed his arm against his window, his head supported by it. He tried his best to fight back tears. "But I'm in this now, we can't go back, and I can't just leave you here. I just... I just don't want to make some sort of fault and let you down. Like what I'm fucking doing right now."

He furiously wiped some of his would-be tears away and looked out the window. "I have a confession to make. I hated my job at John Adams. After your incident with Bob Turner, I knew you would lead to trouble, which would have been a big change of scenery for me. After each break, I locked all of the classroom doors, in hope something would happen. So then, when the mob began to chase you during lunch, you had no choice but to come in my classroom to hide, since it was the only room unlocked."

"So, you almost had me killed, just so you could have a bit of adrenaline in your life?"

"When you put it that way, yeah. But don't get me wrong - I really want to help you out, but now I keep fucking everything up, unnecessarily risking your life, for example, to get a car."

Eric had no clue what to say. "I'm 17, Matt, not 12. I know you feel the need to protect me and make plans for me and all, but I can help as much as you. You don't have to do all the work. I mean, it's not like I wouldn't of had gotten this far without you."

Matt let out a small laugh. "You're kidding right? You probably would not even have made it to T-Bay if it wasn't for me." He brought his head back to his seat and shook his head. "Ah, it's not that hard. I guess I'm taking this a little too seriously. It's just funny because a few days ago I was your teacher, teaching you buggers stuff you'd forget the next semester." He started to grow a little happier again. "You know, I'm pretty happy I'm out of there. I really didn't like that job. I probably would have done much bet--"

Suddenly, a man appeared on Eric's side of the car. "Matt?"

"...Gerald?!", Matt yelled, eyes lighting up like fireworks. "Man, is that you?"

"You're damn right it's me!"

Matt quickly got out of the car and gave Gerald a high-five, before giving him a hug. The man had black hair, glasses, and was a little taller than Matt, but he seemed thin for his age.

"Man!", Gerald said. "What are you doing all the way down here?"

"Well, I sort of needed something from you. I was looking all over the place for you! Can't believe you just popped out of nowhere like that..."

"Well, come to my house, its right over there." He pointed at a house down the street. "The, uhh, greenish roof about eight houses away. Might as well bring your -- whoa." He gawked at the car Eric was in. "Nice car, man. I mean, I know you like _old_stuff, but this is a bit overboard."

"It's... a long story."

...

The house was very big. It had three floors and a basement; the first being the kitchen, lobby, living room and a bathroom interconnected into each other. The second was not very big, but it housed his immense office and another half bathroom. The third floor had a master bedroom and a full bathroom, with another two guest rooms at the end of the hall. All of the walls were lavished with paintings and designs, presumably homemade.

The small tour of the house left the two boys impressed and dumbfounded. They both had never been in such a beautiful house prior to that moment. They went back down the stairs onto the first floor and sat on one of the couches in the living room. "So, Matt." Gerald said. "What brings you all the way down here in Fargo?"

"Well, it's sort of complicated really. See, my student here, and I, well, we've hit a snag."

"Uhh, what type of snag?"

Matt cleared his throat, ill at ease. "Well, Gerald, this is, uhh, Eric."

A small moment of silence ensued. "Wait... you mean the--?"

"Let him finish, please", Eric interrupted, allowing Matt to continue.

Matt began to explain the situation they were in, without mentioning what went on before the car chase. He did not feel like going into detail, nor did he consider mentioning anything which would have supported the media's bias of a story - he made it as simple and straightforward as possible. But, as much as Eric wanted to believe he had managed to convince him, he still felt there was a lot of doubt in Gerald's mind.

"Alright, well, I see you've been through a lot", he stated, with an embarrassing laugh. "But, I don't see how I fit into this."

"Well, simply put, we need to get out of the country", Matt answered. Gerald was still quite puzzled over the answer. "And, in order to get out of the country, we need valid passports."

"Oh. I see where this is going. You want me to make you both a passport?" He got up with his hands halfway in the air. "I'm not getting into any illegal business. Sorry Matt, but I've built my entire 'empire' from scratch. It took eight years to get to where I am now, and I am not going to throw it all away to help a dragon escape the country, with something I frankly don't even know how to do! I mean, sure, I'm a great graphic artist - but a passport? No, sorry. It's not going to happen."

"Gerald, come on", Matt pleaded. "From an old pal. I really need you to do this for me. I know there is risk in you getting caught for this, but trust me, we'll take it and run. You'll never see us again, and they won't be able to link this to you in any way. I promise."

Gerald shook his head once more. "Look man, I know you're in a--"

"Gerald. Please."

Another large moment of silence. Matt's eyes were deadlocked onto Gerald, who was pacing around his chair in order to ease the stress of the situation. If he took it, he risked getting caught by the police, and being classified as an aid to a criminal. However, if he did not choose to help him, he was not sure what would happen. He began to think maybe it was all a lie, and the media was correct. On the other hand, if he had said no, they would have killed him because he knew too much. He was stuck, so he gave in.

"Ugh, alright." Matt showed a great deal of appreciation at this point, and Gerald leaned over his chair in discomfort of the situation. "I'll need an actual passport from the both of you though, because I have no clue how I'm doing this. I'll just... copy the old passport and paste new text with the security features, or something."

"Thanks a lot buddy. I owe you big time."

"Yeah, you do; 200$ to be exact. Each."

...

Benson was flying back home from Winnipeg, over to his central headquarters in Virginia. He had flown a lot in those past few days. Virginia to Thunder Bay was fine, but Winnipeg got him very tired. The grand majority of his squads were back in the United States, including the Echo squad, whom he was very impressed with.

The flight was about three hours long, which allowed him to have a well deserved nap; however, he received a phone call about two hours in. A stewardess came into his plane compartment to notify him of it, and, in a hazy-state, he went to the front of the plane to sit down and pick it up. Normally, he was not the type of person to wake up in the middle of a rest, but for someone to have contacted him during a flight, - and not being able to wait for it to land - it must have been important.

"Hello, Benson speaking."

"Hello there Benson", a loud voice said, which was just what Benson needed.

"Parker? Why are you calling me in a plane? I mean, I know you don't seem to like me very much, but please." He chuckled. "Give it a rest..."

"Enough with the act, let's get serious. I've got a lead which puts our two buddies in Fargo, ND. They're searching for a man there, or something; I'm not quite sure exactly, but if you could get your squads to--"

"Alan, Alan...", Benson interjected, followed by a beat. "You're a bit too late for that."

"What?", Alan asked, clearly unaware of what Tom was referring to. "What do you mean? This is pertinent information!"

"Alan; we've already sent almost all of our squads to surround that area. They're beginning a thorough investigation in about 4 hours from now. So please, let me sleep."

"What?! How did you get that information so fast? And I thought you were still in Winnipeg... Where are you flying to?"

"Langley."

"Oh - well could you just answer my question, please? We've spent days looking for their tracks and we've only just found this!"

Tom recalled the conversation he had with Xavier. "So easy to fool...", he thought. He looked out of his window and at the ground below before smiling. "Well, let's just say I had a little, 'help'."