Next chapter, much more Tony Stark dialogue and such. Should be lots of fun.
I do realize I'm falling behind on my update schedule. My apologies, I realize this may have frustrated a few people, but I'm in college now, a shocking and unpleasant change after my summer vacation.
Oh, and on another note, I bought my first car. I got a 1996 Ford Explorer, Bronze, four door. I like it.
Anyway, to those people that reviewed; thank you very much. You know who you are, and I hope you know that your reviews mean very much and matter to me.
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Ten minutes later…
"So, he didn't put up any resistance?" Stark asked, glancing into the makeshift cell. The office had only one door and a full-length window, which offered no escape, unless the prisoner was suicidal. The door had a small glass pane set into it, which had been upgraded with wire mesh.
"Hasn't said a word, except asking for food and water." The guard replied. "The calculating type, you know?" Stark looked at the items spread out on the table.
"This is everything he was carrying?" He asked, looking over the objects. A handgun, a kevlar vest, a cell phone, safety glasses, earplugs, and a set of keys. The guard nodded. "Excellent. This'll be very helpful."
"Sir?" The guard asked hesitantly. "If he really is the Punisher's sidekick, why haven't we informed the police about him yet?"
"Were you an only child?" Tony asked suddenly, reading a sheet of paper.
"No, I had two younger siblings." The guard replied, unsure how the topics were related. "Why?"
"When you caught them doing something bad and wanted them to do something for you, did you tell on them, or tell them to do the something and then threaten to tell on them?" Tony asked, not looking up. The guard nodded his understanding.
"Don't worry, I know what to do," Stark told him, "I just have to do it right."
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Wesley straightened in the leather chair as the door handle turned. The heavy door swung open and in walked—
Tony Stark, the famous billionaire himself. Oh, great. I'm about to get sent away to some secret SHIELD prison or Ryker's Island. Wesley forced the emotion down and kept his expression bland. Tony had a manila folder in one hand, a glass of scotch in the other. Neither man spoke for several moments.
"I was expecting police," Wesley said, trying to keep his voice even, trying to hide his exhaustion and weakness.
"Police? Why would I call them?" Tony asked, sitting down, tossing the folder on the desktop. "It's not as if you committed a crime."
"I would have been shot if I had tried to leave." Wesley retorted. "So if I didn't commit a crime, why am I here?" Remember, anger is better than fear, but don't overdo it, his instructor had said. Be angry enough to push the situation where you need it to go but be fearful enough to avoid doing something stupid.
"For one, you deserve thanks for what you did here." Tony said. He rapped on the door. The guard opened it, and Tony stepped out briefly before returning with a package, which he handed to Wesley.
"Haha." Wesley said, reading the label on the box. "An armor vest. Very funny."
"It's worth eleven hundred new." Tony said, as if upset that Wesley didn't seem pleased. "Even if you don't like it, you could resell it and buy yourself a new gun."
"No, it's splendid." Wesley replied, standing and holding the box under his left arm. "I'll make sure to tell the press what a wonderful person you are. Now, if you don't mind…"
"Actually, there is one other matter." Tony said, as if just remembering. Wesley tossed the package down and collapsed back in the leather seat, sighing. "I need to know who is responsible for today's attack, why, and where they are. That, or I need to know how to contact the Punisher to find out from him."
"How would I know that?" Wesley said, raising his eyebrows as if shocked Tony would ask him. Stark groaned and rubbed his forehead.
"You obviously knew something was going down here today, you knew the Punisher would be here, and you were ready to leap into the fight," Tony rattled off the list. "I've actually got the security tapes right outside. You worked with the Punisher against the Yakuza without a second's hesitation. The two of you paused only to plan ahead before moving on and starting firefights."
"I served two years on the Navy." Wesley replied. "Military training. It keeps me ready. I thought that by working with him I might save lives." Tony shook his head, his patience evaporating rapidly.
"You're wasting my time." Stark told him. He glanced at his watch. "I've got a press conference to do. In half an hour I'll be back and we'll finish this. Either you tell me what I need to know and you walk out of here, or I turn you over to the Punisher Task Force of the NYPD and you can spend the next two years fighting legal battles. Trust me, they're much worse than gunfights." He turned and left the room without saying anything more.
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Wesley remained frozen for several minutes after Stark had left, feeling shredded. Broken fingers, arrogant playboys, police… Dear God, please just get me out of here. Another minutes ticked by, and he slowly began going through the drawers, looking for anything useful. The first drawer yielded pens, pencils, markers, a roll of scotch tape, and paperclips. The second had several packets of printer paper. Wesley grabbed the tape, several sheets of paper, and walked over to the door—more specifically, to the small window in the door…
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"You know it wasn't that kid's fault." Pepper said lightly, adjusting Stark's tie. "You saw the tapes. He did help and risk his life."
"I know." Tony said absently, thinking about other things. "What, you feel sorry for him?"
"Sure. Poor kid, probably brainwashed by that vigilante, or threatened into helping him." Pepper said, a sympathetic tone in her voice. Tony gave her a doubtful look, making her add the other half of her reasons for objecting. "And I think it could turn into a public relations nightmare. You see a tourist take up arms to help defend us against attackers and you practically kidnap him. Imagine that on Fox News or CNN."
"Don't worry about it." Tony said calmly, checking himself over in a mirror. "I know what I'm doing, and I know the sort of guy I'm dealing with. It'll be fine."
"You're gambling a lot," Pepper warned. "You better be sure of this."
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"So we're in, now what?" Logan asked, picking a leaf out of his hair. "Is he wearing a homing beacon or something?" Jubilee was staring off into the crowds. They were heading towards one building, and most looked like press.
"Hello?" Logan repeated. Jubilee turned to look at him. "Now what, mastermind in training?"
"I don't know." She admitted, frustration in her voice. "He's here somewhere. Can you smell him out?" Logan rolled his eyes and sniffed a few times to appease her.
"I can smell ten brands of fast food, electronics, body odor, greases and oils, hot metal…" Logan didn't bother adding more to the list. "Wesley doesn't have a distinct odor like you. Tracking him like that would be tough unless you had something of his, like an article of clothing."
"Distinct odor?" Jubilee repeated, tugging at the pink sunglasses propped up just above her forehead. "You're saying I stink?"
"You smell like ozone and cinnamon gum." Logan said flatly. "Makes me think of some sort of human nuclear reactor. Wesley smells pretty normal, unlike you or that flamethrower kid at the school. We're going to have to look for him the old fashion way—with our eyes." Jubilee groaned, then took her cell phone out and punched in a number.
"No answer." She put it back in her pocket.
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Wesley gently tugged the shirt down, feeling pleasantly surprised as it easily slid over the new armor vest. He had watched a Stark Industries sale representative give a demonstration of their soft armor vests; the man had taken out a standard army issue M9 semi automatic pistol and unloaded thirty rounds of high velocity 9mm bullets into the armor without a single round punching through it—excellent quality.
Sorry Mr. Stark, I won't be here when you get back from your press conference, God willing, Wesley mused. He began searching for escape, methodically going over every section of the room. The ventilation shafts were too small. The door was too solid, and a guard was standing outside. The full-length window could probably be broken eventually, but he was five floors up and had no rope.
I have to leave the same way I came in, He decided. I have to get that guard to open the door. He peeled the paper off the window.
"Hey, buddy!" Wesley rapped on the glass. The guard turned around. "Open the door for me?" The guard snickered. Wesley changed his approach. "I will give you five thousand dollars to open the door."
"What do I look like, some flunky you can bribe?" The guard laughed. "You're stuck. Deal with it." Wesley promptly put the sheet of paper back.
A large, ornamental paperweight sat on the desk. It was a small glass sphere, with a clock inside, mounted on a little wooden base. Probably a gift for employees who reached the five-year mark. Wesley picked it up with his left hand and hurled it at the window. It bounced off with a loud crack. Wesley crouched, waiting to lunge when the door opened.
It didn't. Wesley let twenty seconds tick by before standing at grabbing at the chair---
Forget that. He examined the large bookcase, crammed full of volumes about taxes and regulations. He tugged on it, making it budge ever so slightly. Not secured! He slipped his hands behind the cabinet, trying to not aggravate his broken fingers much, and heaved.
BOOM! The bookcase crashed down onto the desk, making an earsplitting thunder.
The door flew open two seconds later, revealing the guard, his taser up and ready. Wesley paused for a moment, unsure of how to react to the weapon. The guard promptly aimed at his chest and fired, sending out two small probes…
Which impacted into his chest and did nothing. Wesley charged and body slammed the guard, sending him up against the wall. The man reacted like a textbook, pushing Wesley away and trying to draw his sidearm. Adrenaline surging, Wesley attacked, backhanding him in with his closed left fist, the knuckles hitting the guard in the upper cheek, using his wounded right hand to try to stop him from drawing his weapon. The guard smacked his swollen hand, sending electric vibes of pain through it, then drew the gun. Wesley abruptly headbashed the man, his forehead colliding with the guard's nose. The guard shied back, disoriented, blood streaming from his nostrils. Wesley stepped forward and elbowed him in the face, the firmly struck the back of his neck with the edge of his hand. The guard collapsed, the sudden pain and shock paralyzing him with fear.
"You broke my neck!" The man shrieked obscenities. "Oh, God, I'm paralyzed!" Wesley picked up the fallen sidearm and pistol-whipped him, finally knocking him out. One the man's belt was a security clearance card; Wesley took it, wondering if he'd need it to get out.
"Now for round… 2, of leaving Stark Industries…" He said to himself, staggering out the door and closing it behind him. Sprawled on the table where his possessions, and to his delight, several dvd's marked evidence. Must've been those security tapes Stark was talking about… He pocketed those and took the rest of his stuff back, leaving the used kevlar vest the Punisher had given him. The 92-AF pistol went into his belt, a round chambered with the safety on. Thanks to the handgun's design, all one had to do was draw the weapon and brush the safety off with his finger in an upward motion, very simple and easy.
He flipped open his phone, turning it back on. You have 4 missed calls, the message displayed. Wesley didn't bother click on it, but he did contemplate calling his coworkers and asking for help. Chris, Jill, David… man, I wish you guys were here. He caught sight of himself of a window and debated finding a bathroom and cleaning up. No! Just get out of here! You can make paramedics think you're a wounded victim, just get out!
Ahead of him, the door had a glowing card reader next to it. Wesley ran the stolen card through the reader. The LED switched from red to green, and he pushed it open.
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"Do you want to call the mansion and see if he's there?" Logan asked, leaning against a car.
"He's not." Jubilee said matter-of-factly. "The Professor would've had him call me." She looked around a few times, thinking. "You know, for someone 'Who's the best at what he does' you're not being a help."
"This isn't my idea." Logan replied, looking amused. "Besides, this whole thing is great training for you. You're learning to formulate plans and… stuff." Jubilee's fingertips glowed briefly, but she resisted the urge to paft him.
"Fine, evil mastermind." Jubilee said. "Where would someone head for a tour?"
Logan finally contributed something helpful. "Probably over there." He pointed to a building. "See? No guard booth out front, and it's got great landscaping. Plus, it's towards the front of the little base. That's where tourists would go." Jubilee looked around.
"Great." She snapped. "I don't think we'll be able to walk there from here. There's another fence."
"Calm down, kid." Logan said, pointing at one structure, relaxed as ever. "We could probably go through that building."
"Then let's go!" She started moving, not waiting for the Canadian to follow.
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Wish I had set a webcam up, Wesley thought, smirking as he headed down the stairs. Escaped and stole the evidence. If only I could see the look on that smug jerk's face when he finds that out. He passed another floor, wondering why Stark couldn't have had him locked up on the ground level. With pizza. In an office with a shower. Below him, he could hear people walking up. He slowed his pace, getting ready to nod a greeting and step to the side. Two guards rounded the stairs, the one on the right slowing as…
It was HIM, the guard who had originally arrested him! The guard froze, staring at him in shock for a moment, before his hand moved for his pistol. The other guard hadn't noticed yet.
"Stop right there!" He ordered firmly, drawing his weapon. Wesley grabbed the railing with his left hand, jumped slightly, and drop-kicked the guards in the chests, knocking them backwards and sending them tumbling down half a dozen stairs. He rapidly jumped over their prone forms, avoiding their limbs, and charged down the stairs as fast as he could bolt. Eight stairs later the two had apparently recovered.
"This is Johnson in the northwest stairwell of Building C, pursing suspect headed towards ground level! Over!" Boots stomped above him. Wesley settled for the 2nd floor and hurled the door open, running down a long hallway. He didn't care about the police or the army, he'd get out of there somehow! He had to run, he had to lose them!
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Now armed with a candy bar and a soda, compliments of slightly-electrified vending machines, Jubilee walked rapidly and with energy, burying the small feeling of uncertainty that was creeping up on her. If Wesley suddenly rang up saying he was at a gunshop or at the school, she'd feel pretty stupid. Then again, he could be in a hospital somewhere… She looked around again, wondering if frying that lock to get them in was really a good idea.
A guard ran past her, his utility belt jingling. She glanced back at Logan, who looked mildly interested. They increased their pace, following. The hallway opened up into a small lobby, with excellent décor.
WHAM! A door to their right flew open and Wesley emerged, running flat-out towards the exit. Jubilee was overjoyed.
"Wesl—" The words caught in her throat as the door exploded outward and two guards ran out, chasing him. Logan suddenly came to life and charged forward, moving with surprising speed for someone who had been acting so lazy.
"Wesley!" Jubilee repeated. He turned around, surprise evident on his face as he noticed the two of them.
Logan reached the first guard, snagged by the arm, spun him around, and slugged him in the face. The man dropped, and the two other guards suddenly noticed that Logan was a participant. Jubilee hurled a glowing orb in front of the guard closest to Wesley. It exploded, turning into a miniature sun for a brief moment. Logan engaged the second guard and disabled him with frightening speed. The third guard's vision cleared… only to see Wesley aiming a 9mm handgun at his face.
"Don't shoot." The man pleaded, holding his hands up. "I've got kids!"
"If you chase me again," Wesley's voice sounded ragged, "I swear I'll kill you." Logan almost casually struck the man in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. Jubilee ran over and hugged Wesley.
"I knew you were here! I knew it!" She gasped. "I'm so glad you're all right!" Wesley returned the embrace, suddenly grinning.
Logan took a few long steps and shoved them both towards the doors, moving quickly. "Earth to Romeo and Juliet, there's probably more of those guys on the way!"
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Soft Armor: Flexible, light body armor such as kevlar vests. Will not stop rifle rounds unless multiple vests are layered. Usually worn by security guards, law enforcement, and the like. Soldiers usually wear soft armor upgraded with hard armor inserts, ceramic or steel plates.
Oh, and that karate chop the neck move? It's real. I was taught it by a black belt in Kenpo during one lesson. He said that you could strike the back of the attacker's neck, and if you did it with enough force, the resulting shock and pain could make the attacker believe you had broken his neck, which would paralyze him with fear. He said it had worked for him once in a fistfight.
Anyway, hope you liked it. Leave a review, please.