Peter knelt before the crucifix perched high above him. It was a ritual, something he always did before a show. He felt it was almost like good luck, like god would take notice of his art, and enhance it for the enjoyment of all. That's all he wanted from his music, to give others the feeling that he got every time the music pulsed through the speakers of a club. The rush. It flowed throw him like he was apart of it. It was almost addicting, like he needed it just to survive. Maybe that's why he did what he did.
His gaze turned up to look upon his lord, and he caught himself in mid doubt. He had seen many things in his travels with Shen, in his dealings with Keith, that sometimes made him wonder. He never doubted in his lord, or his god, but he wondered sometimes, how much the plan he thought there was had been altered by the emergence of other beings. He was grateful for the chance to be in the presence of such beings, and in a way help shape the world, but maybe sometimes he wondered if he would have been better of never knowing anything. Maybe that's why he did what he did.
Peter stood up, as the sounds of the busy cathedral of St. Paul's in downtown London hit him head on. He became aware of everyone around him again, and closing his eyes, he could almost see the layer of weaves about the cathedral, tracing the actions of everyone, and everything. Turning his eyes away from his lord, his thoughts returned to darker subjects though. Peter had exhausted his funds. He had lived the life of a partier, and a DJ, and as he was known to do, had blown all his money before he had been able to reinvest it into equipment that made his job possible. He had to borrow money to keep going, but what bank would loan money to a man who never stayed in one city for a long time.
Peter had taken it from a different source though, a source he wasn't very proud to have borrowed it from, and someone who was going to collect if they didn't get it back. Peter was late with the money again, late as in, almost a month. They wanted it back, all of it too, but Peter found himself caught in a hard place that he wasn't sure how to get out it. He thought about selling his car, but then again, it wasn't his to sell. It belonged to his father, and he knew his father wasn't prepared to bail him out of this jam. Peter and his father were never on good speaking terms, they had their arguments as father and son do, but this father never agreed with what his son did, so you could say that the car was a lovely parting gift to his son, as he threw him out the door, and out of his life.
Peter treaded softly down the main aisle, and then back to the main door, and through the door into the falling dusk of the winter night. It was cold out as he slowly climbed into his black Porsche. Starting the engine, it roared to life, and the climate control systems in the car began to kick in bringing warmth back into the German DJ's body. Taking off down the street his destination was the club he was playing at tonight, where his sister, and a good friend awaited him.
He parked in front of the club, and got out. It was still early, and he had a sound check to do, so getting into the building was fairly easy, there was no line. Upon entering into the dark room, lit by the lights from blue lights above, his eyes drifted over to a corner booth where his sister sat. Whenever he was in this hemisphere his sister would take time out from her studies at university to come to see him perform. He didn't think she was too much into the music, but it was nice to see family every now and then considering he didn't have a good deal left on speaking terms with him. Elizabeth was a somewhat attractive girl with long blonde hair usually suspended in a ponytail, and dull blue eyes that were almost grey. She looked the part of the scene though wearing a low cut top, and a short skirt. Her companion at the booth brought a quick smile to his face though. Keith was in town, deciding he needed to leave the states for a month or two, and do some good else where in the world. The Ranger meant more than friendship, he usually meant adventure too, and with Peter's current predicament, he meant backup too. Keith and Liz were chatting, and suddenly she smiled, and blushed. Peter's smile faded slightly as he considered what Keith might think about his sister. He wondered for a moment if he should be worried, but then again, he did teach the Ranger everything he knew, and even if he was an alien, Peter would just have to kick his ass if he got any funny ideas. Chuckling to himself, Peter walked over to the booth, and slid in next to his sister.
"Hey," she cried in a slightly stronger German accent than his.
"Hey," he replied softly, then extending his hand to Keith, he greeted him too. "Glad to see you."
"You too," replied Keith, smiling as he shook his teacher's hand. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Almost two years," replied Peter. "You do not write; you do not call."
"What can I say?" replied Keith. "I'm bad with those things; besides, I've been a little busy."
"Is it government work again, or the private sector?" quipped Peter.
"A little bit of both," said Keith with a smile.
"Why are you in Britain?" asked Peter curiously, as he signaled for the waitress.
"Needed to take a break from work, thought I'd see some of the world," replied Keith.
"Well glad to have you here," said Peter, then added as he looked at Elizabeth who had been fairly silent, "I didn't interrupt anything did I?"
"No," said Elizabeth, "we were just talking about California."
"California?" asked Peter perplexed.
"Yeah," said Elizabeth, "remember father sent me there for a week last summer. I went out to San Francisco, and saw the Golden Gate Bridge. Keith just got back from there." The waitress came over, and he ordered a drink for himself, and Elizabeth, and offered for Keith, but he refused.
"So how was California?" he asked Keith.
"It was…" Keith stated, trailing off slightly as he tried to find the answer to the question, "…a learning experience." Peter regarded him curiously, but shook his head not really wanting to know what it meant.
"Well it should be a good show," said Peter. "I've put out a few new tracks in the last couple years, so it should be a little bit different than you remember it."
"Great," said Keith ready to just relax for a change. It wasn't too long ago that he left Brianna, and Nick behind, and now he felt like he needed a more comfortable change of pace.
"How is business?" inquired Peter further intruding into the Ranger's thoughts. "I understand things must be slower now than they were before."
"I keep busy," replied Keith softly.
"That reminds me," asked Elizabeth, "did you hear about the event in that private school upstate while you were there? They said that some para-military group went in, and tried to take everyone hostage."
"No," said Keith his attitude becoming a little more reserved. "I wasn't around for that."
Peter had known the Ranger long enough to know that he was lying, and probably completely in the thick of things as it were. A smile that went unnoticed by his sister crossed his face, and quickly he took a gulp of his drink that had arrived as Elizabeth had been talking. "Well if you'll excuse me. It's time for a sound check." Peter stood up, and quickly moved towards the backstage area. Taking one quick look back at the table he had left, he noticed that his sister, and his friend had picked up their conversation despite his parting. He wondered at the pairing for the moment, and wondered if the Ranger showed any true interest in his sister. Opening the back door to the stage, Peter stepped in.
"So, are you still in school?" asked Elizabeth, taking a small sip from her drink, and then setting it back on the table.
"I just finished high school," announced Keith, starring into her eyes. "I'm going to try and take some time off before I go any further."
"See the world?" asked Elizabeth finishing the thought for him.
"…or seeing a little more of it," he continued. "My work takes me to a whole bunch of different places."
"Your work?" asked Elizabeth, tilting her head to the side. "My brother never mentioned what you do." Her eyes were locked on him, with obvious interest. Keith could feel the emotion coming from her even without his latent telepathic abilities.
Keith realized that making mention about his 'profession' might have been a mistake though. "I guess you could say I'm in private security."
"Wow," she replied, "that's different. I haven't met anyone who worked in private security. Are you like a body guard or something?"
"Or something," said Keith with an added nervous laugh. "What about you? What do you do?"
"I'm a shoppe girl," she announced with a smile.
"Wow," said Keith. "Where at?"
"At a little store in my town," she replied. "My dad owns several of them, so I get to run one of them. When I'm not at university that is."
"Well at least you're your own boss," remarked Keith.
"Yeah," she said, though she knew otherwise. She looked off towards some of the other people moving into the club ready to hear Peter's set. She realized that this wasn't as going as well as she hoped, but then again she didn't know how poor Keith was at talking to women. "So are you seeing anyone?"
Keith was caught off guard by this question, and his eyes went wide to indicate it. He knew what the question meant, especially with the way Elizabeth was sort of pushing herself, but he didn't know how to answer it. "I um….I just got out of something. Something big."
"How long were you with her?" she asked, pushing the subject.
"Hard to say," Keith replied honestly. "It seemed like a lifetime."
"She must have been a lucky girl," replied Elizabeth softly. Keith looked at her coolly, but didn't respond.
Peter continued his odyssey back stage as he continued to look for the stage manager. He had passed the small storage closet that served as the green room, but still there was no sign. He couldn't help but notice that it was unusually quiet for an area that should be quiet busy, and wondered where all the staff was. There was a sound of feet shuffling, and then a loud noise from further down the hall. Peter could sense weaves in his mind, but couldn't see their source. Slowly he moved to where he had felt them come from. His footfalls echoed in the well lit narrow hallway, and it was just as he narrowed the corner that he began to wonder if something was amiss. Turning the corner he ran straight into a very large man of African descent. He was wearing a large black suit, with a black tie, and black shirt underneath. His head had been shaved, and based on his muscle structure, Peter was quite certain of the man's profession. With him were two other gentlemen clad in similar attire, but of European descent instead. The large black man was the only one to speak. "Mr. Archer would like to have a word with you." His voice was deep, and disturbing, almost like Michael Duncan Clark's voice.
Raymond Archer was the man that Peter had been borrowing money from for sometime now. He had been late again, and Archer wasn't a man who tolerated tardiness. Peter knew exactly what this was about. "Can it wait til after the show? If I don't do it, than I won't have any of the money to pay him back."
The large black man seemed unmoved by Peter's story, and remained motionless in both movement, and expression. "Now." Peter was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't have the money which means he couldn't pay Archer back, which probably was only going to make Archer mad. He could try and fight his way out of this, but Archer would send more thugs after him, and as long as his sister was in town, she could be a target, and Archer would take retribution out on her. His best course of action would be to go with the man, and accept what ever fate was his, and hopefully that would protect Elizabeth.
Reluctantly Peter nodded, "Alright, lead the way." The large man stepped aside, so that Peter could pass, and as he did, the man came in behind him, so that he was completely surrounded in the back. There was no escaping this now, he was committed to what ever fate awaited him when he got to Archer's place. As they walked down the hall though, towards the back exit, he noticed the Stage Manager lying unconscious near the door. Apparently he had made the mistake of objecting to the trio's presence backstage. Peter only wondered if a similar fate awaited him. The back door opened, and there waiting for them was a dark van. The side door opened, and Peter jumped inside, along with the three guys. Immediately a gun was pointed at him from a man sitting in the passenger seat. He didn't say anything, but he also knew he didn't have too. Peter wasn't going anywhere.
Back in the bar, the conversation had died down between Elizabeth and Keith; as had the lights. Keith had ordered a drink, non-alcoholic of course, and sat in front of him, sweating a little bit from the ice. The two regarded each other nervously, because as previously mention, Keith just wasn't any good talking to women. He watched though, as other people wondered into the club, mostly couples, or groups of people. He watched how they interacted with each other, and how they moved about so naturally. For all that Keith had done, and the different kind of situations he had been in, he realized still that he had never really learned how to be someone his age, at least in a social aspect. True, he could handle most things that came his way, but he never learned how to just be a person. He felt that now most of all with the cute blonde in front of him, and the silence that filled the gap between the two. He felt like he should apologize, but before he got the chance, Elizabeth chimed in.
"Something's wrong," she said softly, her eyes looking towards the stage, and then back at the bar.
"Yeah," said Keith, "its just that I'm not very good talking to people for long periods of time. It's this thing I have."
"What?" she asked, noticing he was talking to her. Waving him off though she added, "No I mean with Peter, he should have been out by now."
"Oh," said Keith softly, and then turned around back to look at the bar behind him. He didn't see Peter, but what he did see was a very battered Stage Manager walking towards the bartender. Focusing intently on their conversation, and ignoring Elizabeth for the moment as she frantically tried to find her brother in the crowd of people, Keith gazed intently as the two men shared words. Clearly something had happened backstage, and since that was where Peter was heading last, Keith slowly got up, and headed over to the bar, "Hang out here for a moment."
Feeling a little more in his element, though it came with possible bad news of a friend Keith slowly made his way through the crowd to the where the Bartender, and the Stage Manager were conversing. Sitting down just inside earshot range, Keith could make out just a little of the conversation. The bartender was much more calm than the Stage Manager, and seemed to be the higher up of the two. His voice was rough though, with a thick British accent, "What do you want me to do? The Lories won't touch Archer."
"You have to do something," said the Stage Manager with more of a Welsh accent. "Besides they walked off with tonight's act."
"Well that's his own fault," replied the bartender. "Everyone knew he owed Archer money, so his boys came by to claim it. Look if he doesn't go on, he doesn't make any money. That's the deal with all the acts. Just get some of the sound equipment set up to play some regular music."
"What about the cover?" asked the manager. Keith stopped paying attention after that, because it was no longer important. He had thankfully caught the important part of the conversation, which was that Peter had been taken away by a group of guys that worked for this Archer character, apparently for debts that needed to be repaid. Elizabeth had come up beside him, seeing that the Ranger had apparently stumbled upon something.
"What's going on?" she asked curiously. "Is it about Peter?"
"Was Peter having financial trouble?" Keith asked her.
"I don't know," said Elizabeth. "He had some expensive habits, but always seemed to get by."
Turning towards her, and away from the two men, he looked at her critically, deciding whether or not to induce a type of panic into her about her brother's whereabouts. However he decided that if he was going to 'help' Peter out, he was probably going to need her help. "It seems that Peter went off to see a man about some money that he owed him."
"What men? Who did he owe money too?" she asked him. She was confused by the information that Keith was giving her. If appeared to Keith that she really didn't know anything about this situation.
"I heard the name Archer tossed out," he told her. "Does is it ring a bell?"
She seemed to turn white for a moment, and then leaning against the bar, she folded her face into her hands. "Only if you mean Raymond Archer."
"So you've heard of him?" asked Keith.
"He is a crime boss in town," said Elizabeth softly. "But I do not know why Peter is mixed up with him." Then a sudden realization seemed to hit her all at once. "Unless that is how Peter has been making all his money to do what he does. He and Father don't see eye to eye, and he wouldn't borrow money from him. I just thought he was getting paid more, but I guess he was borrowing it all along."
"Do you think he can pay Archer back?" asked the Ranger as music began to flood into the house from the large speakers by the stage.
It had already become to loud to answer, so instead Elizabeth just shook her head. She looked towards the speakers with annoyed expression, and then motioned for the Ranger to follow her. She got up from the bar stool, and slowly walked away from him. The human male part of Keith had to watch her go for a few moments as he took in her backside, but shook himself out of it, and quickly caught up with her. They made their way through the crowd, and finally to the exit. "If Archer has Peter, than we're going to have to go to the police to alert them that he has been taken."
"No," said Keith. "The guys in there were arguing about that, they said the Police won't touch Archer. They had emerged from the building onto the dark London street where cars lined both sides of the street. Elizabeth turned away from him, obviously upset that there was little she could do to help her brother. "But we might be able to do something."
She turned to look at him critically, and raised an eyebrow, "What do you suggest?"
"Do you know where we can find Archer?" Keith asked her softly.
Crossing her arms, the critical look continued to remain on her face, "He has a bar in Leicester Square, or so I'm told."
"Well then let's go," Keith replied.
"Fine," she said, interested in what he had up his sleeve. She dug into her purse, and produced a set of keys, "we'll take Peter's car." Pressing the remote that was attached to keychain, the night became illuminated on the opposite side of the street as the blinkers, and side markers on a Black Porsche 911 flashed to indicate that the vehicle was now unlocked. Had Elizabeth not known that the look on the Ranger's face was caused by a car, she might have become slightly jealous.
"Can I drive?" he asked her innocently as they approached the car, his eyes still fixed on the sleek lines of the German vehicle.
"Can you drive a stick shift?" she asked him.
Keith appeared to be wounded right, right below his pride it seemed. The question was one of almost shock value to the would be hero, but instead of passing it off as that, he just smiled, and flicked his wrist. The keys shot from the girl's hands, tore through the hand, and into the air where an open palm of the boy's hand waited eagerly. "I have on occasion."
Elizabeth watched in shock as she saw what she considered to be impossible. The Ranger had done something she had never seen in her life except in motion pictures, and to be even more dramatic he threw in a good dose of wit. Her mouth closed though when she realized that much like the unusual talents her brother had displayed on occasion, that Keith to must have been of the same level to deal with her brother. "I guess I have no choice." She opened the door to the passenger side, as Keith opened the driver's door to the car, and both of them slid in at once. Adjusting the seat was no problem, and finding the ignition was a snap. Keith paused a moment before he turned the key, as his foot perched itself above the clutch. Soaking in the feeling of anticipation, he let it hang before finally, he turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Elizabeth watched entranced as the guy before her was so engrossed by the sound, and feeling of the car.
"I have seen many things in my life," the Ranger offered, "but this is probably one of the most serene."
"My brother is still in trouble," she reminded him, snapping him from his own trance.
"Oh," stuttered Keith, "right." Switching the headlamps on, and putting it into gear, Keith slowly pulled the car out of its parking space. The two of them were off to save her brother, but to any other onlooker it would be nothing else but a standard routine. A well off guy leaving the club with a pretty girl, and a Black Porsche shooting down the London street in the dead of night, its engine growling loudly, and its Xenon beams guiding its path, as it disappears into the darkness.
The large door to the van was opened, and Peter was forced out of it, nearly falling to his knees. Two large men stepped out beside him, and took a hold of his arms, pulling him back to his feet. His hands were now bound tight with cable ties, and they were out in front of him, where the two thugs escorting him could see them. The large black man stepped out of the van last, and then marched forward to open the door to the back entrance to the club. Once open, the two men shoved Peter forward, and entered the building behind their captive. The large black man was the last one to enter, and sealed the door behind them.
The hallway they had walked into was well lit, and the brightness of the bulbs bothered Peter's eyes for a moment. He squinted, and tried to raise his hands up to block the light, but did so in vain, remembering that they had been bound. The group marched forward with Peter in the lead, and when they came to a door, he was told to stop. One of the thugs stepped forward, and opened it. Inside was a dark room, with rows of wooden structures, with bottles resting on them. It took Peter a moment to realize that he was in a wine cellar, as he marched forward. The wooden structures seemed to be mostly for show, because in most places there were more modern devices used to store bottles of liquor and keep them at their normal temperature. His attention though was drawn more to the seat in front of him, that had the stereotypical single lamp hanging over it.
"Take a seat," said the large black man. Peter did as he was told too, and sat down. His bindings were cut, and his hands were free, but just for a moment, as slowly new bindings were attached not just to his hands, keeping his arms behind the chair, but also to his legs to the legs of the chair. He was effectively unable to move, and stuck with this situation he glared up at the large black man who only smiled at him.
"Should I be expecting Mister Archer at any point?" he asked daringly, to which he was rewarded with a punch to the stomach by the large black man. He doubled over as best as he could in his bindings, his head falling forward as the wind rushed out of him, and the pain tried to push him into a fetal position. Slowly though he regained his composure, and then forced his head back up, to stare at the black man. The larger man reared back, and then struck Peter in the face with the full might of his fist, causing Peter's head to swing to the side. He could taste the salty fluid of blood in his mouth as he slowly became aware of more than just the pain. Spitting out the blood from his mouth, which now began to form at the edges of his mouth, he looked back up at the man. "I guess that's a no."
"Actually," came a new voice from the darkness, very thick with a British accent, "the answer is yes." A middle aged man emerged from the shadows dressed in a fine suit. It was a dark blue, with a gold tie tucked neatly underneath. It revealed a large frame that seemed quite strong, but there was a little bit of a gut at the mid section. He was very clean shaven, but his eyes, and a scar on his cheek seemed to indicate a rougher past. His light hair though was still full, and not sporting any kind of grey which softened his harder appearance with a youthful flare. "Tsk tsk, why did it have to come to this."
"Well I was about to have your money, when your brute here pulled me out from a gig," explained Peter.
Archer looked at his employee, and then back at Peter as a small professional grin crossed his face. "Well Jacob seems to have a knack for being in the right place at the right time it seems. Still that doesn't rule out the fact, that you are quite overdue." He spoke softly, and slowly, almost as choosing his words subtly before continuing. "In my line of work…you can't just make exceptions for anyone you know. After all I consider myself a business men who treats…everyone…equally. So the question is what do I do now. The solution though is quite easy to reach because as you can imagine, you are not the first person to…default on a loan shall we say."
"So what your going to hold me ransom until my family pays you?" asked Peter, attempting to guess at what the crime lord was thinking. Archer looked at Peter, and then at Jacob, who launched another punch at Peter which again slammed into the side of his face.
"No," replied Archer, "I tend to think of this as a personal responsibility that you yourself must take on. We won't bring in your family, we will just settle this between ourselves…with blood." Jacob had delved into one of his pockets, and had retrieved something. At the mention of blood, Peter heard the quick rush of something moving, and looked to Jacob who now held a switchblade in his hand. "You see it's the twenty first century, and we can track the financial records of our clients to see if they have the ability to repay us, and what not, and looking into yours seems to reveal, you don't have that capacity, nor have you had it for some time. If you can't pay, what good are you to us?" He stared at Peter for several moments trying to gauge the man's reactions, but Peter, only glared back at him. Finally, bored with his little game, he looked and nodded at Jacob.
Outside the club, on the small streets surrounding Leicester Square, the loud roar of a German engine echoed from the dense crowding of building walls as the Black Porsche rolled up, and came to a stop in a designated Parking area. The engine hummed for several seconds before it went silent, and the lights dim. The doors opened, and Keith and Elizabeth stepped out from their respective seats, and took in their surrounding area. Keith looked over at Elizabeth, and asked, "Which way?"
"This way," she replied, shutting the door, and heading off in a direction. Keith closed the door, and locked the car, and chased after at a steady jog until he came up beside her. She regarded him coolly, and then looked back at the way she was coming. "So what ideas do you have for when we get there?"
"Oh,"
said Keith non chantly, "I'm sure I'll think of something."
The two of them proceeded down one of the closed off side streets to
the square which was only for pedestrians. The square was still quite
full of people, even for this time of night, which seemed to shock
Keith a little. "I hadn't realized there would be this many
people about."
"We're almost there," she replied, not
hearing him, only focused on getting to her brother as quickly as
possible. She stopped, and Keith came up beside her, following her
gaze to the front of a bar which was decorated in neons, and other
forms of eye catching material. It came complete with a bouncer, and
a line waiting out front. "That's it right there. It's said
that Archer conducts business in the basement. There's a stairway
at the very entrance behind the door, but its often roped off, entry
is invitational only."
"Alright," said Keith, taking the lead, "follow me."
"Wait," she said, putting an arm out to stop him, "perhaps you should let me take the lead. Something tells me you haven't tried to get into a lot of clubs in your life." Keith frowned at her words, but allowed her the lead in any case, and again wasting no time, she began her march forward towards the club.
"She's trouble," muttered Keith under his breath as he followed after her. The two of them arrived in front of the club, and Keith tried his best to blend in as much as possible. The line wasn't that long, either because most of the people who wanted to get in did, or because those that couldn't didn't want to try. The line moved slowly though even for its size, and each moment wasted awaiting entry to club only seemed to provoke Elizabeth's frustration. Finally though the line moved forward, but was roped off, just before Keith and Elizabeth could get in.
"Haven't seen you around here before," said the bouncer, as he looked over both Elizabeth, and Keith. "You might as well try your luck somewhere else tonight." Keith could sense the boiling anger inside of Elizabeth, and was ready to take out the bouncer before she could say or do anything, but suddenly this overwhelming calm began to emanate from Elizabeth, and she flashed a smile at the bouncer.
"Well my friends keep talking about this place, and I just had to come check it out," she told him. "I'm sure though that when Raymond asks though, I can tell him that you guys were all full, and I couldn't go in." The bouncer folded his hands together, and stood erect, and looked over Elizabeth critically. For her part though, Elizabeth stood there like any young girl trying to gain entry into a club, albeit a little more confident than others. A coy smile though rested on her lips, and she knew that the bouncer was rolling over the idea in his head.
"You're a friend of Mister Archer?" he asked, bringing his hands up and folding his arms across his chest.
"Oh that's so formal," she said in response. "Raymond just said to come by and see him tonight, and I thought I'd take him up on it."
The bouncer let out a deep sigh, and then shook his head, "You do look like his type." Slowly his hand dropped to the rope, and pulled the securing mechanism loose, pulling the rope free, and allowing the two entry. Elizabeth smiled politely to the man, and Keith pressed forward, just shrugging at the larger man, as the two entered the rather loud, and smoky club.
A staircase leading to the lower levels was right in front of them, and as Keith stood upon the top step looking down, he could see that the staircase ended in a doorway. Elizabeth placed her hands on him, and leaned closely so that he could her, "He's probably being held in the basement somewhere."
Keith turned back towards her with a serious look upon his face, and nodded slightly. "This time, follow my lead."
"Hey, my way worked," she replied to him, as Keith broke from her contact, and slowly began to descend the stairs to the doorway. Waiting for Elizabeth to join him, and then turned to face the doorway. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense anything beyond the door so that he might know what he was getting himself into. The loud music though made it difficult for him to concentrate on the room beyond though, and he frowned with the failure of his results.
"Ready?" said Keith, turning to look at his female companion. For a moment he detected uncertainty in her mind, but she shrugged it off quickly, and nodded. Slowly Keith reached out and took a hold of the knob, and twisted it, pressing his weight against the door, and opening it inwards. As the door slowly opened he could see that it led to a small room with another door, and sitting on either side of it were two men, one of them reading a paper. He pressed in though, and as they took notice of him, they stood up. He moved to the center of the room with Elizabeth in tow, and as he did the door closed behind him, he found that there were four other gentlemen in the room as well, all standing in a circle around the two rescuers. Spinning in a complete circle Keith takes complete notice of them, and he wonders why they haven't moved on them let.
"Uh," said Elizabeth, "we're a little lost. We were kind of looking for the toilets."
The gentlemen said nothing in response, as Elizabeth laughed nervously behind Keith. Slowly Keith focused on the weaves around him, and could sense the calmness that the men were emitting, but knew that they were building energy with in them. It was very much a restless energy that was building. Keith spoke softly so that Elizabeth could hear him, "No matter what happens, don't move.
He waited, for what was going to happen next, and when it did it broke like a levee against the full force of the water behind him. One giant release of a weave, everything coming out at once. They moved towards them, all of them rushing forward at once no brandishing any weapons, just an attempt to subdue them without any major show of force beside muscle, and as they came towards the two, Keith spooled all his mental energy up. He waited until the last moment to release a blast of mental energy in the form of an orb, and doing so he forced all of them back in the direction they came from. The sound of dull thuds echoed throughout the room as their bodies slammed into the thick walls, and collapsed against the ground. Some were pushed into unconsciousness immediately, but seemed to have a groggy look on their face. Keith wasted no time at all, and immediately through a blast of mental energy at the door in front of him, forcing it ajar, and open. The sound of the door rocking off its hinges though made it sound like a bomb went off.
"How…?" she tried to ask, but Keith cut her off.
"No time," he replied, grabbing her by the hand, "let's go!"
Jacob's fist slammed into Peter's midsection again, and in vain, Peter attempted to double over in pain, but only managing to let his head hang in front of him as a sign of exhaustion. Another fist went across his face, and wretched his neck to one side. The blows were paced accordingly, to make the pain last as long as possible, so that Peter wouldn't pass out before Jacob could enjoy himself. For the first time since he had started his training with Shen, Peter cursed the stamina he had that often proved useful in a fight. It was the only thing keeping him awake, instead of unconscious, a place he desperately desired to be, but seemed still to elude his grasp.
Hanging his head in pain, he had given up trying to focus his vision on anything, it was all just a blur to him, nor could he hear anything except for a constant ringing within his own head, possibly the telltale sign of blood, but he could tell, barely, that something was a miss when the next blow didn't come. He had considered for a moment, that perhaps he had finally passed out, but instead, he wasn't so lucky, for there was still the sign of the constant ring. Slowly he lifted his head, and squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the figures in front of him, but he couldn't make any of them out. Instead he saw the forms of the two guards that had been beside him, moving out of the room, and in front of him, presently was but Jacob. Archer was no where in his blurry range of sight. Feeling that this was to his advantage, Peter let out a slight laugh, a smile spread across his mouth as he did, but he could feel Jacob turning his gaze back upon him, and slowly he knew what was to come next. Peter could still sense weaves.
Jacob reared back ready to strike Peter, but Peter wasn't going to let his beating proceed any further. Summoning up the last of his strength, he pushed with all the muscles in his calves so that he stood up, and as quickly as possible, swung his body and the chair completely around at Jacob. He was faster than Jacob though who had already been caught up in his rhythm to notice Peter's attack. The chair slammed into Jacob full on, and splintered into many different pieces, leaving Peter smarting from the attack, his bounds in disarray about his body. Jacob had fallen to the side, and was slowly recovering, but it looked to Peter as if his attack had done some damage, at least from what he could make out from the weaves. He tried to take a defensive position, but found that his bindings still made that difficult, and matters were further complicated when Archer produced a firearm.
Peter could only sense the weave of brandishing a weapon, but it was the click of the hammer being drawn back that took Peter's attention, and slowly he loosened up, realizing that he was no much for the weapon. It was at that moment though that a dull thud struck the door leading out to the room. All of the men turned towards the source of the noise, and sat for several moments in complete silence, listening for what could have been the origin of the disturbance. They did not have to wait long though. The door opened, seemingly of its own accord, and there in the doorway stood Keith, with one of Archer's thugs lying in the background. Archer reacted instantly and pointed his weapon at Keith, but Keith was seemingly ready, and sent a burst of mental energy at Archer's hand, knocking the weapon out of it. Peter reared back, and struck Archer across his cheek, not missing an opportunity to return the hospitality he had been shown prior.
Archer caught the blow unaware, and fell to the ground, as his ruffian, Jacob, charged Peter. The linebacker of a man, slammed full on into Peter, and the two tumbled to the floor, as Archer slowly regained his composure, delving his hands into his pockets. Keith entered the room swiftly, as Archer removed his hands from their coverings, and with them he produced a shiny pair of metal on either hand, both covering the knuckles. Archer charged forward with a swing to Keith's frame, and Keith swiftly dodged, and then again, as the crime nlord continued his attack. Finally, the Ranger erected a mental field in front of him, and waited for the blow he knew was coming. The crime lord slammed his fist dead into the center of the field, and the weapons he had brandished had turned against their master, causing him pain. Keith turned this field outwards, and pushed it away, and it not only slammed into Archer, but took him with it as it traveled across the room, and into the wall.
Jacob was the first to rise from the tackle, and proceeded to strike Peter across the face. He excepted his attack to come from blow, so he never heard the sound of heeled footsteps approaching, nor could he have anticipated the blow from the feminine foot that struck him dead in the face, as Elizabeth came to her brother's rescue. Peter had been pushed to the brink of exhaustion by his blows, but he rolled over, and on top of Jacob as he struck the floor beside him. Pulling him up by the collar, and struck the man dead in the face with a blow from his fist, and Jacob's head slammed into the cement floor, the resulting trauma, knocking the larger man out. Peter released his grasp on the man, and found himself surrounded in the arms of his sister's embrace, as she slowly pulled him from the floor. He found her strength a necessity for standing it seemed, and looked over towards his other rescuer who had pinned his captor against the wall.
Keith stood there, with his arms crossing, watching as Archer struggled to be free of the mental field holding him in place. His useless wriggling, almost seemed to amuse the Ranger to some extent, but as Peter joined him with his sister Elizabeth, he took a more serious tone, "What do you want to do with him?"
"Can you portal him to jail?" asked Peter half heartedly. His exhaustion was beginning to be felt, and he seemed short of breath.
"Maybe," said Keith, "but they'll just release him, since he hasn't been charged with a crime.
"Maybe somewhere just far away would do," said Peter, as he rested his head upon his sister's shoulder.
"He may come back for you," returned Keith. "What then?"
"I don't know," replied Peter truthfully, "what do you suggest?"
Keith released his hold on the man, and slowly Archer's body slid down the wall until his butt met the ground. He sat folded up, and unable to move as each breath was a struggle to remain alive. Keith looked at him curiously for a moment, before turning to answer his friend, "I think you should get out of London." A portal rift opened behind Peter, and slowly the energy began to swirl, and crackle inwards. Peter regarded it coolly for a moment, and then turned back to the Ranger. Keith looked at Elizabeth, and she seemed to appear as confused as Archer had but a moment ago. He couldn't tell her what was happening, that task would be left for Peter, the only thing he could do is tell Peter to take her with him, "Her too."
Peter looked down at the crime lord, and then back towards his sister. "I understand." He grabbed a hold of Elizabeth, and before she could object, or fight back, Peter was already in the portal, and her arm was halfway in. She looked back at Keith with a look of concern, but Keith only stared back at her with tired eyes. The two of them emerged on the other side of the portal in what looked to be another part of the city, not far from an underground station.
"What the hell was all of that about?" Elizabeth asked, practically screaming at her older brother. "Who is he, and how can he do that stuff?"
"That's a long story," said Peter starring at the ground solemnly, "but he'll get away on his own, don't worry about him."
"What's he going to do with Archer?" she asked.
"Nothing," said Peter, "that's why he sent us away."
"I don't understand," she replied. "He could just get rid of him, Archer is a monster, why doesn't he?"
"Because Archer is a human," replied Peter. "Keith doesn't take human lives…unless he has too. If he had banished him somewhere else, he would make more trouble for us later. As it is, he'll probably just cut his losses and move on."
"How can he do those things?" she asked her brother. "What is Keith?"
Peter's eyes had fallen upon the dome of St. Paul's where he had been earlier in the day. He could see it off in the distance, the lights below it illuminating it for all to see. He remembered the peace that being inside the church brought him, the simplicity that seemed to be woven throughout the world, just by staring at an object like the cross, and believing. The world beyond those walls were not as simple though, and this had been one of the more complex things he had to deal with. His sister had a right to know though, especially after everything she had just gone through. Pulling his eyes away from the dome, he turned to face her, and nodded towards her, as he started making his way towards the Underground entrance. "It all started in Pittsburgh…"
