Hello friends! I am back with another story for this fandom! Sorry if you were excited I was gone for a while ;) I'm still having fun playing in the Spider-Man sandbox, but this story has been sitting on my browser for a while, and I just got the urge to start on it again and post it. It's basically finished, and it's gonna be a shorter story, probably only 8 thousand words or so. Still trying to get back into the groove of MacGyver, especially while I'm still on my Spider-Man high. I've got like, three other stories planned for the Spider-Man fandom as well, and school's about to start, so I'm just trying to get as much writing done as I can before Monday :P
Also, don't worry; if you are reading this and you're thinking I've abandoned my Spider-Man writing, fear not. I just missed the MacGyver fandom as well :)
Anyway, hope you guys like the story!
I do not own these characters, that privilege belongs to CBS :(
Mac crouched down, avoiding the hailstorm of bullets that rained over his head in the parking garage he'd gotten himself cornered in. He looked down at the little boy kneeling next to him; his hands were over his ears, trying to block out the loud gunfire, and his eyes were wide with fright. Mac frantically looked around, spotting things to help get them out of the situation they'd landed themselves in.
He tried reaching out to grab a length of rubber hosing, but a bullet ricocheted off the cement only a few inches from his hand, and he quickly pulled it back to behind the safety of the cement barrier.
There are literally things all around that could really help us get out of this, but they're all out in plain sight of the people with guns. They've got decent aim, and besides my desire to not get shot, I don't want to leave the kid here alone.
Mac heard a click and peeked around the corner just in time to see one of the men chasing them pull his arm back, a familiar-looking explosive device in his hand. Mac's eyes widened and he grabbed the kid around the waist, hoisting him up off the ground as he took off running. He heard the grenade fall to the ground behind them, and he pushed himself harder, trying to get as far away from the grenade as he-
A massive BOOM came from behind them, and he was thrown off his feet. He twisted in the air, trying to position himself under the young boy in his arms as before they landed. When they did land, Mac let out a pained "Oof."
On the positive side, I managed not to let the kid hit the ground. The only downfall to that was that I was the cushion the kid fell on.
Mac's head was swimming, but he forced himself to open his eyes and look around him, trying to see where all the gunmen were. His gaze fell to the little boy on his chest, and his heart rate spiked in panic. The boy's eyes were closed, and he had a small cut on his forehead that had a thin trickle of blood coming from it.
"No, no, come on," Mac muttered as he stuck his fingers against the kid's neck, completely forgetting about the men shooting at them for a moment. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he felt the strong, albeit fast pulse of his young ward.
Once he was sure the child was still alive, Mac turned his attention back to getting the two of them out of their current situation. His head was still pounding, but he spotted a wall that would provide a decent amount of cover. He scooped the unconscious child up in one of his arms and used his other arm to half-army crawl over to the wall, keeping as low to the ground as he could.
He finally reached the wall and crouched down, grateful that they hadn't been hit by any of the bullets fired their way. He'd felt a couple whizz over his head, but he'd simply quickened his pace until he reached shelter. As he set the boy down, he looked around and saw a rusty metal pipe. Ideas immediately began running through his brain, and he reached out for the piece of metal, but suddenly, another gun started firing from behind him. Mac ducked instinctively, pulling the young child in closer to him to use his own body as a shield. However, none of the bullets were hitting Mac, even though he could hear how close the new gunman was. He was about to take a look behind him, but someone spoke and paused him in his tracks.
"My my my," said the soft voice from behind. Mac recognized the voice immediately and whirled around. "You've definitely got yourself into a tight spot, haven't you MacGyver?"
"Murdoc?"
0-0-0
2 hours earlier
MacGyver climbed out of his car and shut the door, glancing at the spot Bozer's car was usually parked in. His roommate had taken off for the weekend to go back to Mission City, leaving Mac alone in the house. Bozer had offered to let Mac come, but the blond had said no. Yes, he was starting to get over his fear and guilt of going back home, but in all honesty, he just wanted a weekend free of stress. Jack had offered to come stay over for the few nights Bozer would be gone, but once again Mac had politely declined, saying he was looking forward to some time alone, where he could just work on different projects around the house that he'd been meaning to do.
Mac opened the front door and stepped in. The entire house was dark, but he knew the house like the back of his hand. Three steps in and on the left wall was the light switch panel, with three switches on it. The far left switch turned on the hallway light, the middle turned on the living room, and the one on the right was the one to turn on the porch light. He reached out for the middle switch as the door shut behind him, but when he flipped the switch, nothing happened.
"That's weird," Mac muttered, trying to quash the slightly queasy feeling rising in his chest. "Power outages happen," he muttered to himself. He wasn't sure why he was all jumpy over something so small, but he had a feeling that this wasn't a normal power outage. He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, but as his fingers brushed the device, there was a red glare that suddenly flared in his vision, making him blink rapidly to try and disperse the dots dancing in his vision.
As he was still trying to clear his eyesight, there was a click that Mac recognized immediately. The sound was that of the hammer of a gun being cocked, but what froze Mac in his place was the soft voice that spoke immediately after.
"Hello, MacGyver."
Mac's spine tingled as he recognized the voice. "Murdoc," he growled, having frozen completely in his tracks.
"You know, you really should upgrade your security system," Murdoc commented as he walked out of the shadows of the hallway. Mac could see the man barely from the light shining in from the street lamp outside. "I mean, anyone could just walk in," he said snidely.
"We did upgrade it after your first visit," Mac informed his unwanted guest in annoyance. "But let's face it, Murdoc. You're not 'just anyone'," he said, slowly reaching his hand for his pocket again. The blond was hoping to keep the psychopath distracted long enough to get Jack on the phone.
"Aw, you flatter me, Angus," Murdoc said in a playful tone. "I really wouldn't do that," the assassin added in a warning tone with hardly a beat between his previous statement as he saw Mac's hand twitching towards his phone. "That could end disastrously for you."
"Like it's not going to end that way anyway," Mac shot back.
"Now MacGyver. If I had wanted you dead, don't you think you'd be in a puddle of blood on the ground already instead of having this thrilling conversation with me?" Murdoc pointed out. Mac stopped for a second, realizing the hit man had a point.
"So...what, you stopped by for a cup of coffee with a dash of gunpowder?" Mac asked sarcastically. Murdoc didn't respond, but in the dim light, Mac thought he could see Murdoc's face tighten slightly. "What's going on, Murdoc?" Mac asked.
"I find myself...in...need of your help," Murdoc finally admitted, the last few words coming out as a forced growl. MacGyver sat there for a moment in slightly stunned silence, unsure of how to respond.
"You've got a strange way of asking for it," he finally said, referring to the gun Murdoc had trained on him.
"I need assurance that you're not going to arrest me before I put this away," Murdoc replied, his aim never once wavering.
"What makes you think I would agree to that?" MacGyver asked in a hard tone.
"Because I know that once I have your word on something, you won't go back on it," Murdoc reasoned.
"You're a wanted fugitive who escaped federal prison after trying to kill dozens of government agents, and you almost killed my best friend," Mac said heatedly. "I'm pretty sure that any promise I make about not bringing you in could be a complete lie."
"With anyone else, yes. Without a doubt," Murdoc agreed. "If Jack were to promise me that, I wouldn't believe him for a second. Matty Webber? Please. I'd sooner trust a great white shark."
"So what's different about me?"
"I know you, MacGyver. I know how you act, how you think, and I know that you do what is best for the greater good."
"Murdoc. Locking you away again would be for the greater good," Mac argued, though something in Murdoc's tone made him pause. It was bordering on...desperation? Mac was frustrated with himself; Murdoc was a killer and needed to be behind bars. There was no question about what Mac's actions should be, but the Phoenix agent found himself strangely intrigued by what Murdoc had to say.
"I would love to sit and debate with you about how dangerous I am, I really would," Murdoc said. "But unfortunately, this matter is of great importance to me."
That gave Mac even more pause. Murdoc didn't have anything of importance to him; the only thing that Mac knew that meant anything to the psychopath was the thrill he got when he carried out a hit. "Okay, you've got my attention," Mac said against his better judgement. "What's so important to you you'd risk coming to me for help?"
"I need your word, Angus," Murdoc said firmly, not willing to budge on that small part of the deal. MacGyver struggled with himself for a good thirty seconds; He knew what the right thing to do would be, but he also had this undeniable curiosity about what Murdoc could be so worked up about.
"Okay," Mac finally said slowly. "How about a compromise?" he offered. "I promise not to make any calls until I hear you out. You put the gun away and tell me what is going on, and then we decide where to go from there. Also, you need to turn my lights back on."
Murdoc studied the blond for a minute, then finally took in a deep breath. There was another click as the gun was uncocked, and Mac saw the hitman stick his gun back in its holster. "Why don't you go flip the switch?" Murdoc offered. "All I did was trip the breaker. It's an easy fix."
"No," Mac said firmly. "I don't trust you to not shoot me in the back, or strangle me from behind. You may trust my word to not call Jack or Matty, but I don't trust your word one bit."
Murdoc chuckled. "I'm impressed, Angus," he said. "Very well. I'll go turn the lights back on. But trust me when I say this: If you go back on your word and call anyone, I will not only make your death slow and painful, but it will be the same situation for whomever you do call."
"I get it," Mac said, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I'm not calling anyone."
MacGyver watched as Murdoc seemingly melted back into the darkness, and a minute later, the lights came back on. Thirty seconds after that, Murdoc appeared in Mac's hallway again.
"Okay," Mac said once the hitman entered again. "What could have possibly convinced you to come out of hiding besides killing me and my friends?"
Murdoc took a good, long look at the blond, as if trying to decide if it was really worth it to tell him what was going on. Finally the older man took a deep breath before looking Mac straight in the eyes.
"I need you to help me get my son back."
Hmm Hmmm... intrigued? Shall I keep going? :D