Faded Scars
By Camilla Sandman
Summary: Tragedy strikes Sydney, and it's a desperate fight for survival for most of the Rats and not all will make it. But those who survive – can they truly live again?
Disclaimer: I live in my own little delusional world where Frank, Rachel, Mick, Alex, Jack and the rest of the Water Rats actually belong to me. It's just a happy little dream, Hal, I'm not making any money on it. Won't you let me continue to live in it? Thanks
Author's Notes and Ramblings (with a fair bit of warnings):
The new and old cast get to mingle. Ain't I nice?
This isn't, however, a nice story.
Sometimes life is worse than fiction. I started this story weeks before the tragedy of the terrorist attacks on the US on September 11th 2001. Because my story deals with a somewhat similar situation, a fair warning is needed. I was not in any way inspired by those events, it's one of those very spooky coincidences. If you think it will disturb you, please do not read.
My heart goes out to all those affected by the tragedy.
In my story, hell breaks loose in Sydney. Pretty much literally. If you're faint hearted, you wanna head somewhere else pronto. There's violence, character deaths, some coarse language, bombs, car crashes and many other nasty things.
There is also a little bit of nice stuff and a lot of sex. If you don't wanna read steamy stuff, be careful around chapter four and avoid chapter nine altogether. I mean it. If you insist on reading these bits, take a cold shower and don't go bitching to me is if you feel your own love life is inadequate (I know mine is.. sigh).
Don't say you weren't warned.
In my universe, Lance ain't dead, Jack ain't dead, and Rachel ain't dead. Happy days. The events of the end eps of season six didn't happen either. Having your own universe is a mighty fun thing.. (Hey Mick, my place tonight? Hehe – my universe rules)
This story is over 42,000 words (excluding the author's notes and such). Yes, really. Plunge ahead on your own risk. If you wanna read it in one go, make sure you're sitting well, unhook the phone, have Kleenex within reach, as well as Tim Tams and brace yourself. It's a bumpy ride.
Some thanks are owned, as always
Jules – for some of the betareading, for bothering to listening to my rants about politics (especially with the whole Tampa mess), for helping with Sydney knowledge and just because
Sarah – for tapes, for agreeing with my views when I felt very alone in Australia, for helpful comments and lyrics and well, being the Beta From Hell! ;)
Suz – nag, nag, nag J
When something so terrible happens it's easy to believe in the evil of humankind. So this is dedicated to all those who gives us hope there is something good in us all. To the rescue workers and all those who came to help in the tragedies on September 11th– this is for you. May we all follow your examples and have courage, not hate in these frightening times
Yeah, I'm done rambling now. Let's get on with the story.. (drum roll, please)
II
Prologue
There was no strange and ominous silence, there was no music warning of danger, there was no telltale sign that could make you say, "look, something significant is about to happen."
It was just another Tuesday.
And it was pretty much like any other day in Sydney, a relatively clear sky with a few pecks of clouds here and there and a nice, warm sun. It was early in the morning, so the sun wasn't uncomfortably warm yet. A light morning fog had lifted, and there was simply nothing sinister and dark about the day. It could have been a beautiful day, the kind that makes you feel good for nothing in particular except being alive.
But when stories were told of this day years later, it was said to have been a dark and glum morning. Nobody could believe something so terrible could have happened on a nice, ordinary day. And in a way it was right. It had been a dark day. Only the weather had been nice.
It happened so suddenly no one quite understood what happened at first.
There was a loud bang from the Opera House, much like a firework going off. At first this seemed a logical explanation, and only a few people looked up. Then an orange-red flash came from the Harbour Bridge and the whole population of Sydney looked up in terror.
The second bang was deafening.
The bridge keeled over, metal screeching, sparks flying, flames eating at the train that had been halfway to the other side. With a sickening sound, much like a dying seal, the bridge ripped and the train fell.
And the people screamed as with one voice.
II
Chapter One
Monday morning came floating in with a soft breeze, rushing through the trees and the grass, stirring the water and pushing it against the shores. A few clouds moved lazily as the sun set them on fire, playing with colours more vividly than any painter ever could.
And with the wind came the Footloose, sailing into Sydney Harbour as smoothly as it had sailed out. Cutting through the waves, it had good speed.
The man behind the steering wheel was grinning madly, gazing at the familiar surroundings. Had he really be gone for years? It didn't feel like it. It felt more like mere hours, and yet forever. He had woken a few hours earlier, still anchored for the night, and felt a sudden insistent bang of homesickness.
And so he had waited for the first break of light to sail home, at long last.
Footsteps below told him his passenger was up, and his smile widened.
"Good morning, Rachel!" he declared happily without looking up.
"Hmm.." came the rather tired reply, "What are you doing up so bloody early, Frank?"
She walked up to him, her long hair whipping around her in the wind and he felt his heart light up at the mere sight of her. Her tanned skin glowed in the faint sunlight, and her hair looked almost golden after endless days in the sun had lightened it. Despite a tired look on her face, her eyes twinkled.
"We're almost home," he replied and her face broke into a faint smile. He knew who she was thinking of – her son, David Goldstein. The one person she had been most reluctant to leave behind, so much that she had initially turned down his offer to come with him. He had sailed off alone, almost turning back the first night when he thought he'd go crazy thinking about her. But he hadn't. He'd sailed on.
Then she had been stabbed in the line of duty. It still pained Frank to think about it, to think about how close he had come to bloody well losing her. It had been touch and go, she had been in a coma for weeks.
But she had lived, and a year later she had joined him. It had taken him quite a number of beers to get her to admit why and even then she had been elusive at best. From what he could figure, she had felt alienated from work and quite lost after her near death experience. Jack's name had come up a couple of times too.
And then she had kissed him to stop him from asking more questions. It was a rather effective strategy on her part, as he really couldn't think straight when her lips touched his.
Not that he was complaining or anything!
"What are you looking so smug about?"
"Nothing," he said as innocently as he could. She didn't buy it and gave him one of her infamous glares. He chuckled softly, lifting one arm and pulling her into a semi-embrace. She didn't resist, leaning against his chest as she watched the Harbour Bridge in the distance.
They were almost home indeed. In the back of her mind, a little worry was crawling up. She had been gone a long time. David had flown in to visit them in New Zealand, and he had seemed so much older. She was scared he was slipping away from her. Irrational fear, but still…
A shudder went through her, and she nuzzled her head under Frank's chin. She'd had to leave. It had been too much; the stabbing, Jack's insistent hovering around her, all those looks… The smell of death around her.
So she had run away.
Right into Frank's arms too, and she had a pretty good idea that was what he was smug about. The first morning after she had decided she couldn't keep her hands off him, he'd walked around looking so smug she had threatened to deck him several times, but he still had looked smug. So she had decided to just ignore it.
"Frank?"
"Don't make me wipe that smirk off your face."
"What smirk?"
"Holloway?"
"Yeah, Goldstein?"
"Just steer, will ya?"
II
Jack opened the door to the Sydney Water Police Headquarters and immediately groaned. Donna Janevski had him in her sight, and there was no escape. A quick look behind him revealed Helen on her way in, so his exit was cut off. He steeled himself.
"Yes, Donna?"
"Sophie called."
"Thank you, Donna," he muttered, and tried to make an escape.
No such luck.
"I wanted to ask you..."
'Here it comes,' his mind groaned and he mentally steeled himself again. Luckily, at that very moment Helen stepped in and gave Donna a hard glare.
"Shouldn't you be behind that front desk, Janevski?"
The young woman managed to hide a blush and scuttled off, leaving Jack to send Helen an affectionate look.
"You're a lifesaver."
"I know," Helen replied, patting him on the back. Walking up the stairs, he heard faint laughter, originating from the office. Mick and Alex had to be having a good time, he noted sourly.
And sure enough, as he entered Alex was laughing and Mick was grinning. Those two seemed to do that an awful lot, and quite frankly, it was annoying. This was supposed to be a serious working place. It didn't help that Alex was sitting on Mick's desk either, and the guy was enjoying the view. Her skirt was its usual short length, and Jack found himself involuntarily staring at her legs.
"Good morning Jack!" Mick declared happily, and Alex could barely suppress a giggle.
"What's so bloody funny?"
Both Mick and Alex shrugged, which made Jack even more sure it was something to do with him. Was everyone suddenly out to get him or something?
He dropped down on his chair, fighting an urge to turn around and walk out. Life seemed to be a never-ending source of frustration these days. He felt old, tired, and bloody annoyed. Alex kept on wanting to talk about the kiss that had never happened (to brush him off, he suspected) and bloody Mick still had a smile that could part the Red Sea.
"I hear you two are stuck on the Nemesis tomorrow," he remarked, making the two younger detectives groan.
"Bloody Bush has to stop by on the day of the cricket game," Mick replied. "How did you manage to squirm out of it, Jack?"
"The wisdom that comes with age, Mick."
Mick only snickered, leaning back in his chair and accidentally, on purpose brushing his leg against Alex's. She pretended not to notice, but Jack sure as hell did.
Rolling his eyes, he decided not to comment. As he looked at the heap of paper on his desk, he had to fight an urge to throw it all out the window. Bloody hell. What he really wanted was a stiff drink, a quiet house and temporary amnesia so he could forget that Rachel Goldstein had disappeared out of his life two years ago.
The memory stabbed through his heart, ripping away pretence and all attempts of forgetting.
Two years since she had told him she couldn't stay, and that she wasn't sure when she would be back. He had angrily told her not to call, and she hadn't. He knew she had been with David as much as she could for a while, that much Helen had revealed, and then..
Rachel had left, and he had no idea where she was.
That wasn't quite true. He had an idea, but it was an idea he rather not think about too much.
He stared out of the window rather gloomingly, watching the boats circle underneath the Harbour Bridge.
This was gonna be a crappy day, he could tell.
At least tomorrow there would be the cricket game to enjoy (especially since Mick would miss it). And the feeling of impending doom simply didn't come.
But it should have.
II
The day came and went, and soon darkness embraced the city. And people smiled, because they had managed another Monday. Mondays were always hell. Tuesdays were better.
And at the Cutter bar, quite a crowd was gathering. There was Gavin, driving everyone nuts with baby pictures, but no one had the heart to tell him to stop. There was Matt and Lance, engaged in some drinking contest and eyeing the blonde at the bar. There was Donna, chatting Jack to death. There was Tommy, visiting from Brisbane and looking like he'd never left. There was Emma, chatting to newly recruited George, who was there to help out during the US President George Bush visit.
And then there was Mick and Alex and Jack.
Jack knew he was radiating bad mood, but he simply didn't care. Donna was tying to lighten him up, but she only managed to sour his mood further.
This day had been simply one annoyance after another. His car had been dented by that bloody creep of a teenage boy next door and repairs were going to cost a fortune and take forever. The most exciting incident all day had been a dog the Nemesis had rescued, and the ungrateful bastard had immediately peed on Jack.
What was next, bloody Frank Holloway showing up?
And of course, life couldn't resist showing just how ironic it could be.
"Well, well, well, Jack Christey."
'I just had to think that, didn't I?' Jack thought bitterly before turning around.
"Frank," he greeted less than enthusiastically, but his voice was drowned as the rest of the station got up, even those who didn't know Frank by sight knew his name well enough. The man was pretty much a living legend in the Water Police after all.
"Frank!" Gavin declared, getting unsteadily to his feet. Mick looked like the moon had fallen down. Jack managed to get out of the way before Frank was crowded, but of course, his beer remained on the table and there were too many people in the way for him to reach it.
He let out a frustrated sigh, deciding to head for bed and not emerge again until Tuesday was upon them.
The sight of the brunette walking in stopped him dead in his tracks.
God, she was beautiful. Tanned, and she'd let her hair grow fairly long. It didn't seem quite her though, somehow.
"Hey Jack," Rachel said quietly. She bit her lip, wondering what the hell to say.
"So you did go with him," Jack stated as flatly as he could. She shrugged her shoulders, gazing over to where Frank was surrounded by old and new faces.
"You didn't even call."
"I did. You hung up on me." Oh damn, he had. He'd been so drunk he had just slammed the phone down when he heard her voice, and the morning after he'd convinced himself he'd just dreamt the whole thing. Obviously he hadn't.
They stood in silence for a while, neither knowing quite what to say.
"Goldie!" Tommy called out, suddenly having spotted her too. She flashed an amazing smile, and with one final look at Jack, she walked over to the crowd.
Nope, this day simply couldn't get any worse.
II
A few hours later a rather drunken Mick and Alex stumbled into Mick's living room. The party at the Cutter bar had soon become a very loud and very drunk affair, and finally they had all been kicked out.
They were supposed to have gone to Frank's house to continue the festivities, but Mick had managed to forget the way, and so here they were instead.
Dropping onto the couch, Alex looked around and found it to be very much as the last time she had been there.
"Do you ever clean, Michael?"
"Nope."
"So what's the deal with Jack and Rachel?" she asked, accepting the drink Mick was handing her.
"Office romance gone badly. She nearly died, and Jack nearly lost it. She left, he never got over it."
"That explains a great deal," she said thoughtfully, taking a sip and grimacing as she did.
"Don't you have anything better than this, Michael?"
"What, wine?"
She kicked his leg, and he laughed, dropping down on the couch next to her. Throwing a quick glance at him, she tried not to drool.
Of course she had to have one of the most attractive guys in the police service as her partner. With Jack being so distant lately, she had found herself more and more often in Mick's company. It almost felt like the first year she had been at the Water Police, when Mick had more and less been chasing her until they had agreed it was a bad idea.
And for the life of her, she couldn't remember why anymore.
Especially when he was smiling that damned smile and leaning forward.
He was going to kiss her, she realised.
She lifted her face to meet his kiss, and parted her lips willingly as he deepened it, exploring every inch of her mouth. Warmth mixed with the soft haze in her mind until..
"Alex?" Mick asked, pulling back.
Soft snoring answered him, and he smiled softly. Taking the blanket, her wrapped it affectionately around her and got up unsteadily.
There was always tomorrow. One of these days he would win her over.
II
The moon was high in the sky as Rachel walked into the kitchen where Frank was sitting, calmly sipping a beer.
"Did you manage to kick out the last one?"
She shook her head. "Nope. Emma and Tommy fell asleep on the couch."
"What, together?"
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Frank."
He smiled, feeling strangely happy, despite the fact that the house was a mess, and it would take forever to clean up and he hated to clean.. But it had been good to see them all again.. Well, not all of them. The news that Dave was dead had shaken him up more than he'd care to admit.
It wasn't that he had liked Dave that much, but the guy had been one of them. One of the gang. It felt unreal that he was gone.
"Too bad Jack had to leave early," Frank remarked after a moment's silence. She shifted a bit uncomfortably.
"What did he say?"
"Can we talk about something else, Frank?" she replied and grabbed the bottle he was holding and finishing it in one sip.
"That was my beer, woman!"
She smiled, walking towards him with a glimmer in her eyes. She was going to use that tactic again, he realised and it was the last coherent thought he had as she leaned in.
In the living room, the world was beginning to return to Tommy Tavita. Groaning, he wondered why his chest felt so heavy. Opening his eyes he realised it was because Emma was resting on top of him.
Glancing around, he found the living room to be empty. Well, empty wasn't exactly the right word, there had to be hundreds of bottles scattered around, and the place looked like it had been hit by a cyclone.
A cyclone called the Sydney Water Police. Tommy chuckled, and the movement caused Emma to shift somewhat. Her long hair was tickling his arm. He wondered just how foolish Mick had been to let this woman go.. Oh well, Mick's loss, someone else's gain.
The sound of glass hitting the floor made him look in the direction of the kitchen and his eyes widened.
"Em!" he whispered.
"Hmmm?"
"Look!"
"What?"
"Frank and Rachel are making out in the kitchen!"
"What!" Emma giggled, trying to suppress her laughter. It was rising in her throat, and her body shook with the effort to keep it bottled down.
Frank and Rachel were certainly going at it all right, with her sitting on the counter and him hungrily kissing her neck.
"Shiiiiiit!" Emma muttered, "Should we.. umm.." She looked down, realising she was lying on top of Tommy. A small blush crawled up her cheeks. Tommy just looked mildly amused, as she struggled to get off as silently as she could.
They tiptoed out, and started laughing hysterically as soon as they were outside, leaning on each other not to fall.
"What was that?" Rachel tore herself free from Frank's embrace.
"Emma and Tommy leaving."
"Shit," Rachel muttered, "Think they saw?"
"Yep," Frank grinned. The whole station would probably know soon, and he didn't mind one bit. Well, maybe, except for Jack.
He had seen Rachel and Jack at the Cutter bar, and it hadn't been a pleasant image. Frank hadn't liked it one bit. Sure, he was the one screwing Rachel, but what about her heart?
It had been an off-topic subject for the whole trip, and he had gone along with it as long as she stayed. He was willing to take whatever she had to offer, and so far it had pretty much been sex. That was fabulous enough, but.. He'd like to have her heart too, at least some part of it.
As she leaned back into his embrace, a sudden fear leaped into his mind. One thing was losing her when he had never had her. But now… It would both better and worse, and he didn't even know if he could really live through losing her anymore.
So he held her like there was no tomorrow.
II
Jack came home to an empty house. Slamming the door behind him, he groaned at the loud sound it made in his head.
Bloody Rachel Goldstein.
And bloody Frank Holloway.
He leaned his head against the cool brick wall, feeling the haze of alcohol lift slightly. He'd got the hell out of there as fast as he could, but the memory of her standing there, looking so damn…
He was still hung up on her.
"Shit!" he cursed, still leaning against the wall. He could remember every sound, every smell, and every movement as she had been stabbed. It was like a movie reel, a reel he couldn't control.
The doctors hadn't expected her to live. And he hadn't dared hope.
Angry, bitter and filled with a sense of revenge he had set out for the person who had done it, and nearly managed to screw up everything as he went along.
And then she had awoken from the coma miraculously, and he had felt like he had been given a second chance. He had stood by her, treading around her like she would break if he pressed her too far.
That, in retrospect, might not have been the best tactic. She had pulled back from him, further and further until she was out of reach no matter what he did.
"Shit!"
To his horror, he felt tears for in her eyes. Rachel might not have died, but he had lost her that day nevertheless.
II
Tuesday morning came in with such a soft wind it barely stirred a leaf. A light morning fog settled, drifting lazily around the Harbour. The sun rose slowly, drying off the light dew in the grass. Just any other day.
And yet not.
Sydney was preparing to greet the US President, for one thing. Showing off the best, as always, and hiding the worst. Canberra had done the same thing the day before, pretty successfully too.
And so the residents of Sydney prepared to smile for the camera.
Alex awoke to a splitting headache, and a terrible feeling she had done something stupid. Just what, she wasn't sure, and the way Mick was walking around and smiling made her even more unsure. But he said nothing, and she didn't ask.
And they set off to work in silence.
In another part of town, Helen and Tayler set off to the funeral of Helen's aunt. Helen didn't really want to go, but Tayler had insisted.
Jack set off to make sure his car was being fixed properly, feeling a desperate urge to focus on anything that didn't relate to a certain brunette. His car seemed as good a thing as any.
On the Harpy, Tommy was joking with Gavin and Emma, while Matt was on the Nemesis, waiting for the two detectives to arrive. Lance still had official sick leave (and everyone envied him).
And Jeff overslept, to his great annoyance, and decided to skip stopping by the Opera House. Unbeknownst to him, that saved his life.
On the Footloose, young David Goldstein was running on deck, looking taller and much more like Rachel than Frank remembered. The boy was growing up to be a heartbreaker.
"Where's Mum?" David finally stopped to ask.
"She needs to talk to your dad for a while," Frank explained, "So how about you and I go sailing?"
"Is it as fast as the police boat?" David asked hopefully.
"Let's find out…"
The fog lifted and the sun broke through.
II
The train rattled off and onto the Harbour Bridge. Glancing over at her aunt, Tayler gave her a small smile.
"I'm sure…"
Something went click.
"What…?" Tayler began, but her voice drowned in the roar of flames and as a bang so loud it tore into her ears and seemed to stab through her mind. She wanted to clutch her ears, but a sudden jerk threw her forwards and something hard and sharp greeted her.
The light flickered off.
The train fell.
Helen wasn't sure if she was screaming or not. All around her hundreds of voices screamed, and she simply could not make out hers among them. Her body was falling, falling and falling and falling and she tried to cling onto something, but the metal was too hot.
And then the water came at her and she remembered nothing more.
II
The Harpy was buzzing around Harbour Bridge, keeping an eye on the boats in the harbour. On such a sunny and nice day it was a lovely place to be, the sun reflecting in the brilliant blueness of the water.
Although the reason for the crew wearing sunglasses was more the night before than the sun.
"Hey Tommy?" Gavin called, "How did you sleep?"
"Shut up, Gavin," Tommy muttered, glancing over at Emma and trying not to giggle. If Gavin only knew…
Gavin grinned, interpreting their silence rather differently, his smile fading quickly as a sudden bang tore through the sounds of the water.
But before he could see where the sound came from, another, louder and nearer sound made him look up. At the Harbour Bridge.
Looking up, Tommy saw the metal bend and heard the bridge groan. And there were screams, screams that would haunt him until the day he died. They were screams of terror, of death and unimaginable pain.
"Oh my God.." Emma whispered in terror, her eyes wide.
And then the Bridge came rushing down at them.
II
The Footloose leaped through the waters, merrily, almost like the ship itself was grinning. David certainly was, although complaining it wasn't quite as fast as the police boat. But what it lacked in speed, it had in movements, each wave releasing a new sky of water falling on the young boy.
"Frank?" the twelve year old suddenly called out.
"Yeah?"
"Why are there fireworks on the Harbour Bridge?"
Looking behind him, Frank saw flames erupting from the Harbour Bridge and he nearly lost hold of the wheel as shock pulsed through his body.
"Bloody hell!" he declared.
"You shouldn't say that," David said accusingly, but Frank didn't hear. All he heard was the terrible groan as the bridge tore in several pieces. It was like a string being snapped. Suddenly there was nothing keeping it up.
The sun glimmered off the top of the train as it fell with the bridge.
And the wave came at them.
II
Traffic was moving slowly, and Jonathon used the occasion to do his second favourite thing in the world; argue.
"Be reasonable, Jonathon!" Rachel complained, knowing that was the one thing her ex was incapable of. And surely enough, he was shaking his head as the lights finally changed and the cars sped forward.
"Rachel, you're not.."
There was two loud explosions, one merely seconds after the other. Rachel had a second to glance out the window, and see smoke from the Opera House. And the Harbour Bridge. Her heart stopped and all she could do was stare.
"God…" Jonathon muttered.
And suddenly the car before them stopped, and they slammed into it. The front window immediately shattered, and she covered her face from the splinters. She felt Jonathon's body slam into hers as the car went around. Something sharp scraped against her skin and her head was ringing.
The car rolled at least twice, and landed the right way up, knocking her head into the ceiling. She felt her seatbelt cut into her hips as it kept her from going out the front window as the car jerked violently when another car slammed into their from behind.
Next to her, Jonathon fell over the steering wheel, blood pouring from a wound in his head.
And when she finally looked up to where the bridge once had been, half of it was missing.
Then there was another sharp jolt as a car from the other direction came right at them.
And Rachel didn't even have time to scream as they went around again.
II
Jeff watched his fish swim around, drizzling fish food into the water. It was a moment of peace in between all the running back and forth and sneak listening to the cricket game. He knew the rest of the gang was doing it to, and he graciously pretended not to notice.
Bloody Bush had the worst timing. Besides, Americans had no sense for real sport. Football with padding.. Meh!
The glass shook only slightly at the first bang, but violently as the louder, second bang echoed through the city, powerful enough to wake even the dead.
Jeff saw the explosions mirrored in the glass, and even as he turned, he knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.
The flames played over his face as he turned, his mouth falling open. He stepped up to the window without thinking, as if he could reach the doomed people on the bridge and help.
George came running in, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw what was happening.
"Holy shit..."
They could only watch helplessly as hundreds of people were plummeting to their deaths.
II
"This is boring!" Mick complained, glancing over at Alex.
"What, watching an historical meeting?"
"I never liked history in school," he countered, and she smiled somewhat, but her attention stayed on the Opera House and the commotion in front of it.
She and Mick were standing on the Nemesis, watching the crowds watching US President George Bush and Prime Minister John Howard. The two were flashing bright smiles, she could tell even from the boat, being all "Australia and America, best buddies."
She threw a quick glance behind them, where several boats were circling. Why exactly the Water Police had to be there, when military and special police was practically swarming all over, she wasn't quite sure.
It wasn't like anything was gonna happen, well, except her partner getting bored to death.
"Truth or dare?" he suddenly asked.
"What?"
"Truth or dare," he repeated, "Come on Alex, you've seen the prime minister suck up before."
She sent him a glare, but he only smiled innocently.
"If I say dare, is it gonna be something indecent?"
His smile grew, and she felt her own lips begin to form a smile against her own will. God, that man had a catching smile.
"Truth," she declared, and she could practically hear him pout. "Fine. Dare then."
The bang ripped through their grins, years of training causing them to snap to attention within seconds. It was a sound every soldier knew, and the reaction was immediate. Even as Mick and Alex looked over to the Opera House, the boats next to the Nemesis were already in movement.
"What the fuck?" Mick muttered, staring at the Opera House where flames were erupting and people were screaming and running.
'A bomb' his mind concluded, but even as the situation began to sink in, there was another loud bang, this time from the Harbour Bridge.
It was like watching a movie. Half the train was lifted into the air, flames roaring and people screaming as it started to fall again.
The bridge keeled over. And within seconds, it tore it several pieces, as several more explosions went off.
And the Bridge fell.