The Statistic

(A teenage girl ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time and is in urgent need of assistance. This is my first Equalizer fic-there's no romance, or fluffiness, none of that sappy stuff,LOL. I'm not even entirely sure this story will go anywhere, to be honest, but I grew up on The Equalizer-I guess you could call this my own little tribute to Robert McCall, and indeed, to the late Edward Woodward, who made the role so iconic.)

Chapter 1-Nicole

Nicole Baker had spent most of her young life being carted around from one foster home to another, having been abandoned outside a church when she was only two hours old.

When she was thirteen, she decided to run away from a system that she deemed an utter failure, and had been surviving on the streets ever since. Needless to say, nobody had sent out a search party for her. But then, she was a nobody...

Nicole was used to sleeping rough by now. She relied on kindly passers-by or sympathetic store owners (both of which were, admittedly, in fairly short supply in New York) for food, or, as a last resort, she stole from stores. She'd pretty much become a pro at the art of distraction at this point. She wasn't a BAD person-it was all a matter of survival.

She hadn't had much in the way of a formal education while in the care of the State, but had, from a young age, shown a natural aptitude for art, particularly portraits. She had a talent for drawing faces, every nuance and curve, every expression. She'd once dreamt of being a serious artist, but had realized by now that that was exactly what it was-a DREAM...

The warehouse was dark and dingy, and seemingly abandoned, when Nicole strolled in. It was a bit breezy, to say the least, but she had a sleeping bag with her, one she had 'obtained' from a sporting goods store about a month ago. It was a little grimy by now, obviously, but it wasn't like she had easy access to a washer-drier.

Completely lost in her thoughts, Nicole froze suddenly when she realized there were voices coming from only feet away. One seemed to be pleading for mercy, while the other was cold, raised in anger:

"...Please, just give me some more time! I promise you'll get every cent back-just gimme a couple more days!"

"...You've had all the time you're going to get. Nobody gives me the runaround."

Nicole knew she should turn and run, but she let her curiosity get the better of her, and slowly inched forward, until she could see the men more clearly. Even in the dim light, she could see a man kneeling on the ground, hands raised in supplication.

There were two men standing over him, both pointing guns in his direction. One man stood out-he was tall and thin, and his hair looked dark, but his most distinguishing feature was a crooked scar, that disfigured the right side of his face. He looked mean as hell. She was rooted to the spot, as the scarred man said casually, "Goodbye, Joey.", and the sudden burst of gunfire made her instinctivey clap her hands over her ears and cry out. And she didn't realize the grave mistake she'd made until she saw the men turn their focus from the now VERY dead man lying on the ground, to her.

Nicole was perhaps not as streetwise as she should have been, but she understood with dawning horror that she had just witnessed a murder. And these guys did NOT look happy about it. The man with the scar growled and stalked towards her, gun raised. In a lame attempt at humour, she quipped, "Sorry, guys, took a wrong turn-I guess this ISN'T the Hilton, huh?", then turned tail to run.

However, while Nicole was a very fast runner, even she couldn't outrun a bullet. She clearly heard the crack of the gunshot, and almost immediately after, felt an excruciatingly painful burning feeling in her left shoulder. She saw the blood, felt dizziness overwhelming her, and then, somewhere at a distance, the faint sound of sirens.

"There's cops out there, man, let's go! She's done anyway!"

Like smoke, the three men disappeared, leaving Nicole lying on the ground, her shoulder blazing with agony. Loss of blood and pain rendered her unable to stir for several moments, but she knew she had to get out of here before she bled out, or worse, those men came back to complete the job they'd thought was finished.

Stumbling outside clutching her wounded shoulder, blood seeping between her fingers, Nicole looked blearily around as people walked past her, either not seeing that she was injured, or choosing to ignore it. And there wasn't a cop car in sight, which meant those sirens had come from further away than she thought.

Spotting a phone booth nearby, she almost fell inside. She was on the verge of unconsciousness, and the pain was almost unbearable, the light beginning to fade. Picking up the receiver with trembling hands, she first dialled 911, then hung up before it even began to ring. She was a homeless kid, a statistic. She knew from experience that the cops would be of no help. They probably wouldn't believe her, or they might even blame her. But then, who could she turn to?

Nicole leaned against the door, feeling faint, her shoulder screaming, blood dripping onto the floor, and felt tears coming. She didn't want to die like this, alone and in pain, but there was no one else, there...

Quite by accident, her eyes fell on what looked like a newspaper cutting, taped to the far window of the booth. She had to squint to read it, shaking now:

*GOT A PROBLEM? ODDS AGAINST YOU? CALL THE EQUALIZER. 212-555-4200*

She had to grip the door to maintain her balance, then fumbled in her pocket with her right hand, and some loose change tumbled out, clattering to the floor. "Aw, crap." She muttered, teeth chattering, and then her knees gave way, and she slid down onto the floor. Slowly, using her legs, she hauled herself back to her feet, her vision wavering.

Using the last of her strength, she put a quarter in the coin slot, and punched out the number, and heard a dial tone on the other end. Then, a man's voice, in an accent that was definitely NOT a New Yorker's said, "McCall." Then, with obvious impatience when there was no reply, the disembodied voice snapped, "Hello? Hello!"

Sucking in a breath, Nicole whispered, "Please... help...", hoping he could hear her, before her world went black...

(Next chapter, McCall and Kostmayer to the rescue. Please R&R!)