This is set after Wordy leaves the team and Raf joins. Wordy has Parkinson, and, in this story, has joined Guns and Gangs. This is my first fanfic, so feel very free to criticize, as I can only get better. Just try to be nice! If you see any typos, grammatical errors, or something that a character does or says that isn't like them, please please please tell me. If you think this is too short, I'll try to make the next chapter longer.
I don't own Flashpoint, or any of the characters (sadly).
Thanks for reading, and enjoy!
(Shots of random buildings)
"Listen, sir, you don't have to do this!" Sgt. Greg Parker was leaning against a concrete pillar and nervously fingering his empty holster.
"Yes, I do!" shouted the perp, waving his gun around wildly. "He shot my friend! He shot Tyler!" His unconscious hostage groaned in his sleep, and the offender kicked the hostage's head. It limply rolled to the other side. The subject looked at the hostage, and slowly lowered his gun to his captive's temple. "He can't get away with this."
"Scorpio."
(That thing where a whole bunch of split-second pictures fly by and make you dizzy.) 5 Hours Earlier...
(Shots of random buildings)
"Hey boss, where's Sam?" Ed asked as he pulled his pants on in the locker room.
"I dunno, Ed. He hasn't called to report anything out of the ordinary," replied Greg from the sink. "I'm sure he's fine. I wouldn't worry, Eddie."
"Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right," admitted Ed. He turned to his pants zipper and started yanking on it.
Ed let up on the pants and blurted out, "It just seems odd that he's missing today, of all days."
"Why? What's today?" questioned Raf as he closed his locker and spun around to face Ed.
Ed turned and leaned on his partially open locker. "Well, officer Rousseau, today is Sam's anniversary."
"Anniversary?" Raf looked confused.
"Today is the day when Sam joined the SRU," clarified Greg.
"Really." Raf sat on one of the benches in the locker room. "Now, where did you say he was, again?"
"We don't exactly know," Ed replied hesitantly. He motioned for Raf to follow him, and started toward the shooting range. Raf shrugged to himself and followed Ed.
Greg waited until he was sure that the locker room was empty, and called Sam's phone. When he was sent directly to voicemail, he left a message and hung up. He wasn't sure whether he should be worried or not. After some more phone calls and a few texts, he decided that Sam would probably answer him, so he gave up and went to the briefing room to work on some paperwork.
As Greg was walking down the hall, he passed Spike, who was fiddling with Babycakes. Jules was standing behind him, handing him tools as he requested them.
"What's wrong with Babycakes?" asked Greg en passant.
"We don't know yet," answered Spike as he looked up. "She just quit working on me this morning."
"I saw that she was down and offered to help," Jules said, "but apparently I don't know enough about robots to do anything other than fetch equipment."
Greg nodded, and entered the briefing room. Just as he sat down, he heard Winnie's voice through the loudspeakers:
"Team Leaders and Sergeants, meet me at the desk, please," blared the speakers.
Greg made a frustrated sound and stood up.
"What is it, Winnie?" asked Greg as he joined Ed at the desk.
"Listen to this 911 call," Winnie replied. She reached over and pushed a button.
"I have one of your officers, SRU. Don't try to find me; I'll kill him if you do. I can see your every move. If he tells me the truth, I'll return him to you safe and sound. If he lies, well... let's just say it won't be good for him."
The tape made a rewinding sound and started again. Winnie slowly pushed the stop button. "Is everyone on Team One accounted for?"
"Ed, Raf, Spike, and Jules are all here," said Greg. "The only one who hasn't arrived yet is Sam."
"What about Team Two?" They made their way down to the bottom team. The only one who was missing was Sam.
"Boss, we have to go to Sam's apartment and check on him," Ed whispered to Greg. He nodded, and Ed half-walked, half-jogged in the general direction of the parking lot.
Greg watched him gallop off. He started when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered it quickly.
"Hey, boss," Sam said.
"Sam! Are you okay?" Greg asked urgently.
"Yeah, boss, I just slept through my alarm clock. I'm on my way."
Greg hung up and sighed. He pressed his palms against his eyes for a second, then texted Ed to tell him that Sam was okay.
When Sam got there, Team One gathered in the briefing room. Greg and Ed told everyone about the phone call. The common consensus was that it was just some wacko who decided to pull a prank on the SRU.
Just as they were about to leave the briefing room, Spike's phone rang. He looked up at Greg, who nodded.
Spike put it on speakerphone. "Hello?" he said into the receiver.
"Help... I'm... a hostage..." came the reply from the phone. Spike looked at Greg. Greg shook his head and shrugged.
"Need...help..."
Ed went pale. "Boss."
"What is it, Eddie?"
"Boss, that's... that's Wordy!"
"Wordy, buddy, are you okay?" asked Greg through the phone.
Wordy squirmed and tried to adjust his trembling, tied-up hands so he could hear through the phone better. "Yeah... duct tape... mouth... hard to speak..."
"I get that. Would it be more convenient to text us?" Wordy was sure that right about now Greg would be taking off his cap and pacing the room.
"Parkinson... stress... no sleep... there's no way... I'll be able to text." Besides, his hands were bound.
He and Greg talked a little bit more, and Wordy revealed, through chopped-up sentences, exactly what happened...
Wordy slammed the door behind him as he walked into his home. His wife and daughters were at a lock-in, and he had taken the opportunity to work late. He wandered to the kitchen to grab a beer and make a sandwich for a midnight dinner. After preparation of his meal, he flopped onto his couch and munched his snack as he watched the news. There had been an arrest by an undercover cop that put a huge dent in the illegal gun distribution in the city. He smiled as he watched the reporters talk about his spectacular takedown. He was the "undercover cop". He had managed to make an amazing arrest without his hands shaking even once.
He heard a noise in Claire's bedroom. He knew his family wasn't home; what could have made that sound? He grabbed his glock and crept down the hall. As he swung the bedroom door open, he raised his gun. The room was empty. Just as he was about to let his guard down, he got clonked on the back of the head, and everything went dark.
"Hey, do you think you could describe the room you're in for us?" Spike's voice dominated the speaker for a second. The duct tape on Wordy's mouth had fallen off due to all the talking, so he easily described his surroundings. He was in a small, metal room that looked a lot like the one Greg was found in when he had tried to rescue Hayley on his own. As a matter of fact, it had the same table with all the junk on it, the same wall structures, the same-
He heard a sound coming from the other side of the door, and turned to his phone. "Subject coming. I'll leave the phone on."
"All right, Wordy. Just hang tight. We've been triangulating this call. We'll find you, my friend."
Wordy lowered the phone just in time. The perpetrator sauntered in. He was dressed in all black. Black hoodie, black pants, black ski mask. He stroked the muzzle of the gun in his hand with the tip of his gloved finger. Wordy frowned as he realised that it was his glock. How dare this fellow steal Wordy's gun?
"Hello, 'friend'." sneered the man. He slowly stalked around his hostage, then stated laughing hysterically. When he returned to normal a few seconds later, Wordy looked at the man's features, then did a double-take. He recognised this guy! Just where had he seen him before...?
"Do I... know you?" groaned Wordy as he tried to sit up.
"Yes, I believe you do," answered the kidnapper. He slowly pulled the ski mask off, and Wordy gasped. Then all went black as the perp kicked Wordy square in the jaw.