As the team began to load the SUV for the evening’s patrol, Sara trailed after Art, wanting to know if he’d completed the work on his weapon.  Like Casper the Ghost, she lingered at his elbow.  “Art, you’re not getting in the car until you show me something substantial, and I’m talking like a firearm or a weapon of mass destruction.”  She could be annoyingly persistent, following him from room to room.  His efforts to assuage her anxiety fell on deaf ears.  “You’re the brain of this team, Art.”  Sincere in her delivery, Sara stood blocking his entry into the garage area, hands on her hips.  “You have to prove you have something that impresses everyone with its badassery.”  The guys had been snickering between themselves, taking her words out of context.  Sometimes in her doggedness, she missed the innuendos.<br/><br/>Shaking his head, but realizing nothing was going to move forward, Art presented a nondescript carry-on bag.  Unzipping it slowly, he drew out a clunky pair of weathered boxing gloves with extensions like umbilical cords leading from them to a utility belt.  He cinched the belt around his hips before slipping the gloves on and securing the velcro at the wrists.  Watching him, Bobby cleared his throat remembering an earlier conversation.  “I recall mentioning Iron Man when we were talking about devices,” He began, “but I didn’t think you would take my idea seriously.”<br/><br/>Art feigned a hurt expression as he looked at his longtime friend, “I always take what you say seriously.”  Slowly explaining his thought process, starting from Bobbi’s comment, the inventor took them through the development stages.  “Basically, my gloves are an extension of powerful UV rays or laser.  When I want to attack, I make a punching motion in that direction and my target will be bathed in UV.”  Shrugging he smiled, absentmindedly brushing dark hair out of his eyes and looking towards Sara. “I’d show you here and now, but it’ll leave you temporarily blind and we really need to test them on an infected subject.”<br/><br/>She came over and inspected the gloves, scrutinizing the half-dollar discs lodged in the palms of each.  “It’s in the palms so in case a bloodsucker gets too close,” Art playfully punched out, tapping her lightly on the nose.  Scowling, Sara wasn’t sold.  “We still work in pairs.  I don’t care how antagonistic they might be, I’m not leaving your side.  No more solo activities.”  Commanding everyone check their wireless headsets and sync their watches.  “Remember, we’re trying to test these on a Reaper.  If standard vamps die in the process, we’ve killed two birds with one stone.”  Bobby and his partner took the front seats, leaving Sara and Art to finish loading into the back.<br/><br/>Buckling himself in, Sam shared an idea.  “What about we find a regular bloodsucker and just trail it?”  He leaned on the armrest and making eye contact with the pair in the back, “If Reapers prefer their blood, eventually our target will get jacked by a Reaper or find more of his buddies to hunker down with for the night.  If we’re lucky perhaps we’ll uncover a nest. In either case, we’ll have a successful night of hunting.”  Bobby rested his hands on the steering wheel, ruminating on the game plan.  Art suggested they grab more snacks, predicting a long evening ahead.