Numb3rs: Crash

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

CHAPTER FOUR

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The fed's head snapped back then lolled forward. Giving the man a quick shake he confirmed that he'd knocked him out. Pushing him back with a satisfied smile he gave the seatbelt a quick jerk to lock it, holding the unconscious man upright. He was still determined now to dump the fed alive when they were finished with him but that didn't mean unhurt. He was getting some back for all the hits he'd taken from overzealous cops when he was growing up back home. Slamming the door he turned to find Mitch looking at him with a somewhat accusing expression.

"What? You getting soft on him?"

"No! Just, he's gonna be sick you keep doing that to him." Mitch knew what that was all about, he'd been pummelled a few times himself over the years and had experienced the consequences of being hit in the head and knocked out repeatedly over a short period.

"Just as long as he's not sick in the car what do I care?" Troy snapped. "Let's do this before he wakes up."

Following their usual pattern they cruised past the gas station to check it out. It was the typical set up, pumps out the front, LPG cylinder out the back away from the main building and the shop itself, small enough to not have a diner attached. There was no sign of life but the lights blazed brightly indicating it was open for business.

"No cars." Mitch reported. That was a little unusual, it looked like the attendant didn't have a car and there were no customers. His stomach rumbled but it wasn't what they were looking for so he continued reluctantly, "Go on to the next one?"

Troy gave that a few moments thought as the lights dwindled behind them. He braked and made a U-turn. "Stuff it. I'm hungry and we could do with some cash."

"What about gas?"

"Almost full." He'd already noted the gauge.

"I got the dude?"

"Nothin's changed."

Pulling in they eased to a stop next to one of the pumps. As they opened their doors they saw the attendant peer out at them through the window. Still partially hidden behind his door as the first one out, Troy gave a friendly wave and received one back. He suddenly realised that wearing the bullet-proof vests may not have been such a great idea, the young man would notice and react, probably locking the door against them. They'd been hitting enough gas stations around the area that he'd noticed the attendants starting to get jumpy. He'd already decided that it was time for them to move on and start elsewhere before they were busted. If they were to do this again they would need some jackets to hide the vests. Hissing at Mitch to wait he pretended to reach for something in the SUV until he saw the attendant look away.

"We gotta get to the door before he notices us." Troy instructed. "Ready?"

Getting into the spirit of things Mitch nodded. "Lock and load."

That brought a new grin to Troy's face as his mood lifted further. Some elements of the evening had not gone so well for them but the good parts were coming close to making up for it. Gun in hand he joined his partner in rushing the door. They made it just in time, the attendant peering back out as the pump hadn't started, obviously wondering what his potential customers were up to. Mitch was first in and moved immediately to secure the young man behind the counter, not giving him time to hit the lock or the alarm.

"Don't touch the alarm! Hands up! Don't move!"

Mitch had come a long way in the few months they'd been together, he'd taught his younger partner well. Adding the threat of his gun to Mitch's orders Troy was satisfied to see the attendant's expression turn to terror. Close up now he saw that the attendant was little more than a boy, perhaps seventeen years old at the most. The kid immediately flung his hands up into the air and backed away until brought up by the wall behind him.

Mitch moved around the counter and grabbed the kid by the shirt front as he aggressively shoved the gun under his chin. Dragging him out they moved a short distance into the store before the kid was roughly flung to the floor between some shelves. Standing over him Mitch kept the gun pointed at the kid's head as he cowered in a ball on the floor. They'd found that to be the best approach, give the attendant no time to do anything, get them away from any silent alarms and by being rough right at the start knock all thoughts of resistance out of their heads. It was getting easier every time.

For Troy that gave him an added benefit. With Mitch controlling the staff and customers he had the power to walk around like he owned the joint, taking or leaving whatever he wanted. He was the one in charge.

"Don't kill me. Don't kill me. Please don't kill me." The kid repeated over and over in terror.

"Shut up!" Mitch yelled harshly and the kid subsided, trembling.

Wasting no more time Troy opened the register and took out the measly takings, just over a hundred dollars by the look of it which meant they had to hit another gas station before they went too much further. They'd had to abandon their stuff back at their room and would need new gear; a hundred dollars wouldn't cut it. Maybe they could move up to something a little bigger now that they got the vests and the rifle. At the thought he suddenly realised they'd left the rifle out in the SUV. Smacking his forehead with his free hand he resolved to remember to bring it next time, it would help with the whole 'shock and awe' approach to front the next attendant, or better yet bank teller, with the military weapon.

Checking that his partner still had the kid under control he headed over to the food section, selecting several prepacked hotdogs from the fridge. Placing them in the microwave he dialled up the required time and waited for them to heat. Impatiently he watched the time tick down, this delay was not their normal deal and he was feeling antsy as the seconds stretched. At the same time he found himself hoping someone did come in so they could 'jack their car. The bell on the microwave caused him to jump and it was only the fact that his finger wasn't on the trigger that prevented his gun from going off. Grabbing at the hot food he scooped some sodas and water from the fridge and made for the door, Mitch's job was to hold the attendant until he got into their car and was ready to move.

As he reached the SUV he spared a quick moment to peer at their hostage, finding him still with his head hanging slackly. Exactly they way he'd expected to find him having hit the fed pretty hard and still able to feel the impact against his knuckles. Dumping the food on the centre console he started the SUV and pulled up next to the doors, tapping the horn briefly to get his partner's attention. He wasn't quite prepared for the loud noise but quickly remembered it was a cop car and should have expected the horn to have been modified. He saw Mitch bend briefly before making his way out, a parting threat to keep the kid's head down long enough for them to get up onto the road and away.

"Go!" Mitch yelled as he jumped in.

Troy wasn't waiting, already peeling out and onto the highway, his acceleration closing Mitch's door. He turned left, heading back the way they'd just come, foot pressed flat to the floor in a showy getaway. It was another of their little tricks which worked really well at night time to throw any pursuit off their backs. A mile or so down the road he again made a U-turn and cruised back just under the speed limit, just a late night motorist completely innocent of any wrongdoing. Passing the gas station they looked in and could pick out the attendant standing at the counter, phone pressed to his ear.

"Yeah!" Mitch whooped as the lights disappeared behind them. It was always a rush, the whole reason he'd hooked up with Troy. He held up his hand and received the high-five he expected even if less enthusiastically than usual. "How much?"

"Lousy hundred."

It was pretty much their standard haul so Mitch wasn't too disappointed even if Troy seemed to be. The smell of the hotdogs, thick in the enclosed space, reminded him of more important things. "Food! I'm starved."

"Get mine out of the packet for me, will ya?" Troy asked as Mitch started to tear at one of the wrappers.

He took the offered hotdog and bit into it, finding it greasy and lousy as usual. Gas station heat-it-yourself food he didn't really like, much preferring proper food from a diner. Give him a fresh burger and fries any day. But he was hungry, their arrest had made them miss dinner and he was able to wolf down the first one and was ready for the second just as Mitch finished his. The sudden deep groan from behind them distracted both of them from the food.

The groan turned into sharp panting breaths and he realised that Mitch had been right; the fed was going to be sick. The last thing he wanted was the smell of vomit in the car. Swerving off the road he pulled up quickly.

"Get the door!"

Mitch was already moving having recognised the signs for himself, pulling open the back door and releasing the fed's seat belt. Troy got there just as Mitch helped their hostage out. As Troy grabbed the fed's other arm he realised that the man was still half out of it but aware enough to be sick. They helped him a few paces away from the truck before the fed stopped, bending over sharply and starting to retch.

"Ugh!" He commented, turning away and trying to breathe through his mouth as the fed lost his dinner. He made sure nothing splattered on his shoes. "That's disgusting."

"You shouldn't have hit him."

"Yeah? Well what else were we gonna do with him while we knocked that joint over?" He couldn't understand why his partner was being protective of the fed; perhaps he was still worried about him killing the man.

"I don't know. Something else. He's gonna slow us down like this."

The fed was dry retching now; back heaving as he was still trying to be sick with nothing left in his stomach. Troy released his grip and shoved him away towards his partner since he seemed to care for the damned fed. "Well you look after him then. Just don't take too long about it. We gotta keep moving."

"We should dump him." Mitch suggested. The fed had stopped retching and looked about ready to collapse, only remaining on his feet because he was being held up.

"No." That was not going to happen, having convinced himself that they needed to hold the fed for a while yet. If they weren't stopped by mid-morning they could get rid of him.

Giving up on holding the sagging man upright Mitch walked him back a few steps before he lowered the fed until he was sitting on the ground leaning back against the SUV's rear wheel. Mitch waved at his still open door. "I'll need some water for him then."

Carefully stepping around the remains of the fed's dinner Troy grabbed the bottle of water from the front passenger foot well where all the drinks had landed as he'd jumped into the SUV back at the gas station. A rag in the door pocket caught his eye and he grabbed that too.

"Clean him up. I don't want to smell it." He ordered, handing the items to Mitch as he went past. The fed was still leaning back against the wheel, but Troy could see he was now fully aware despite the closed eyes and not taking any notice of anything happening around him.

Climbing back up into the driver's seat as he waited he eyed one of the remaining hotdogs. His stomach still grumbled but he found he couldn't face eating at the moment, not after what he'd just seen and smelt. The fed was so not putting himself in his good books. The rush from the robbery shifted to anger as he reached down and retrieved a can of soda instead.

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If he'd thought he had a bad headache before he was wrong. That was his first thought as the pounding in his head made itself known as he regained consciousness. They hit a pothole and the resultant jerk made his head hurt even more. But that suddenly paled into insignificance as a thick smell assaulted him. The grease and general aroma suggested hot food and his stomach immediately rebelled, flipping over and punishing him with sudden sharp nausea. Keeping his eyes closed he fought to control his body, panting in short shallow breaths knowing that a deep breath would be followed by everything in his stomach coming back up.

Dimly he was aware of the car swerving to the right and pulling up sharply, the seat belt tightening in time to prevent him striking the seat in front of him. The door opening beside him he was immediately aware of, he desperately needed out. He tried to lunge for the door but was held back by the seat belt. He felt hands on him pushing him back then releasing the belt and pulling him out where a second set of hands took his other arm. Staggering a few steps away from the car he couldn't hold on any longer, bending over as the nausea got the better of him.

He was barely aware of voices as his stomach tried to follow his dinner, the painful spasms wracking his body when there was nothing left in him. Finally they eased as he felt himself being shoved sideways into the man on his right. Weak and with his head feeling two sizes too big and still threatening to fall off he sagged against his support as the voices continued. He tried to concentrate but the words remained a blur. Finally the man holding him lowered him to the ground, easing him back until he was leaning against a solid surface. Turning his head he tried to spit the taste out of his mouth and was finally able to decipher the words as Mitch asked his partner for water.

Now he could take deeper breaths and concentrated on his breathing as he waited for the much needed water. He also became more aware of his surroundings and was able to piece together the last few minutes. Shifting to give his trapped hands some space he tilted his head back against what had to be the side of a vehicle, there was no guarantee it was still his SUV, and tried to regain his strength, the cold, fresh air helping.

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