CHAPTER I
AN ACT OF REVENGE
Note: The driver at the end of the chapter is NOT someone who you would know from
a House episode. He is a made up character. His past will be revealed in further chapters.
Thanks to House, they were shooting down the rain-stricken roads way too fast, breaking the speed limit, only to break several more laws once they arrived at their destination. Breaking an entry, robbery – the usual. And they all knew if they got caught, then House would certainly make sure they paid for what he told them to do. There was the typical atmosphere of "I don't want to do this" in the air of the small gray car.
The irony of their situation didn't hit him until then. He didn't want to do it, but for whatever reason, he still did. Why?
Without an imaginary answer, he pulled to a halt at a red light at an intersection. By know the rain was pouring down so hard that he could scarcely see the glow of the stoplight out his windshield. He couldn't hear the cars going by as thunder cracked across the sky, gradually becoming louder.
Dr. Robert Chase barely saw the light go green before slamming on the gas. Their latest patient had only hours to live if they couldn't come up with a diagnosis. Hopefully they could find something at the patient's house that could lead to an explanation. Everyone was stumped. House had quite agitatedly sent him and Thirteen to break in to the patient's home.
He stole a glance sideways at his mute passenger. She hadn't spoken a word since they had drove off and he was inwardly frustrated that he didn't know what was wrong.
"What road did he say the patient lived on again?" His Australian accent (to him he wasn't speaking an accent) echoed through the interior of the car. He knew exactly which road the house was on, but he longed for a conversation to take his mind from the dreadful silence.
Thirteen raised her head from where she had been laying it on the window, and glanced speculatively at Chase.
"Do you know what road we're on?"
He couldn't see the signs in between the flashes of lightning, the darkness, and the rain pouring down like buckets. In fact, only the dim reflection on his windshield told him the light was green as he approached another intersection.
"Well, I think we-" he broke off at terrifying roaring sound that definitely wasn't thunder.
The wheel seemed to be jerked out of his hands as he was hurled sideways, to his right, but his seat belt prevented him from falling in to the passenger's seat. Winded and temporarily blinded, he felt a searing pain in his left side and the world spun out of control.
Thirteen's head collided with the window and it shattered with her consciousness.
Chase was out only for seconds. He was hardly aware of what was going on, or what had just happened. His entire body ached, especially his side where the door had connected with him. Breathing was an effort. It took a moment for him to turn his head. He realized he was upside down, hanging from his seat belt. Wincing as he looked up, he froze when he saw Thirteen hanging upside down and limp from her seat belt, blood dripping from her hair.
"Thirteen?" He mumbled through blood dribbling down his mouth. He had smashed his face in to the steering wheel at one point. Her face looked so pale, she could have been dead.
Jesus. He closed his eyes for a moment, dizzy in his pain.
When his gaze opened, he thought he saw a dark shape emerge in front of him. Then he saw no more.
The traffic camera fuzzily recorded a large blue car slamming in to a small gray car and sending it spinning wildly out of control, rolling until it connected with a telephone pole. It recorded a man dressed in black running from the blue vehicle to the gray car. Lightning flashed. The camera stopped recording for at least 30 seconds. It came back just in time to see the assailant car drive off.
The driver of the large blue car glanced in his mirror every few seconds. He was making sure he hadn't been followed, especially by any police officers. He hadn't.
It was silent in his car. He felt fortunate for that. He hated noise.
He had stuck the two unconscious doctors in the back of his car. It wasn't a comfortable fit, for sure. He had nothing against either of them – but he had to get back at that... that monster.
Hate and anger burned in the pit of his stomache. He would make sure he paid.
By tomorrow morning... We'll see who is laughing now, Doctor House!
