Part Three
***
"You psycho!" she screamed as soon as she'd gathered a breath. "Who the hell are you really?"
"Someone you would be wise not to cross," Entreri replied, dropping his slightly-hapless-refugee facade. "Now, on your life, hold the wheel steady."
Siobhan stared at him in horror, and he thought he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes, as if she had heard similar words before. Of course, he thought. She was beginning to understand the truth of him in her heart, even if her mind couldn't accept it yet.
Shakily she took the wheel, guiding it with just a touch of pressure as they flew around a curve in the road. Entreri deftly worked his AK-47 hunting rifle out from under his coat, careful not to jostle the steering wheel, and aimed it out the window at the pursuing cop car's tires. He took a shot and saw the car spin off the road as the car's left front tire was ripped to shreds. He took several more shots at the windshield, shattering the glass, before speeding away.
"Oh my God," Siobhan muttered to herself, over and over like a mantra.
Another cop car came careening up the road, sirens blaring. All other traffic had stopped to allow the police their chase. One officer was leaning out the window with a gun of his own, intent on shooting out the Celica's tires. Entreri took aim and shot him in the hand, and the gun went flying down the road.
"I cannot believe you are shooting cops," Siobhan said. "This is unreal. This just isn't happening."
Entreri calmly disabled the second cop car as he had done the first and propped the gun up for the moment, taking back the steering wheel. "I need a secure structure not very far from here, fairly secluded, preferably abandoned," he said, as coolly as if he were ordering a meal in a swanky restaurant. "Tell me you know of something that fits that description."
"Um..." Siobhan was searching her mind frantically.
"If you need any more prodding, imagine yourself being ripped apart in a hail of gunfire."
"The old button factory!" she shrieked. "It's on the outskirts of the city, in an industrial district that's mostly closed down now. Get off at the next exit, make a right."
"Good girl," Entreri said sarcastically. He got off the freeway and headed into a grimy, neglected section of the city. Several cop cars came out of side streets to converge on him, but he ran the blockade and kept going. He followed Siobhan's directions and arrived at the factory building with no less than six cop cars in pursuit, and a seventh adversary up in the sky, shining a bright light on him.
"They've got choppers," Siobhan gasped as he dragged her out of the car. "You'll never get away!"
"I already have," he said as the cop cars screeched to a halt. He pulled Siobhan in front of him and slipped his hands up underneath her arms, pinning them and driving the heel of one hand down on the back of her neck while holding a pistol to her head with the other.
"You asshole!" she screamed, her voice shrill with terror. She tried to fight, but the way he was restraining her, he could easily snap her neck if she struggled too fiercely.
The cops were standing with guns drawn, helpless to save her, as Entreri forced the door open with a backward kick and backpedaled inside, dragging her along with him.
***
Little light spilled in through the factory's boarded up windows, but Entreri was comfortable in the gloom. He had tried dialing his cell phone to return to Jarlaxle's tower, but the magical signal was weak. Right now there was nothing he could do but wait.
Siobhan sat quietly along the wall, watching him pace. He'd removed the coat and most of the guns. They had been fun, but Entreri preferred his dagger and sword for up-close, personal killings. The dagger he displayed openly, its jewels catching and throwing back the meager shafts of light.
"Who are you?" Siobhan said finally, after the minutes had stretched into an hour, and then two. Outside the cops kept a perimeter guard, though no one more qualified to handle the situation had yet arrived on the scene.
"Do you not know?" Entreri asked softly, drawing his dagger and crouching down in front of her. Her eyes widened as he ran a finger over the blade, drawing blood from a wound that closed up as quickly as it was made.
"I...what I think you are insinuating is logically impossible," she responded, her courage bolstered by that simple statement of fact.
"Would you like to see where I come from, so you might judge that from experience?" he asked.
"You mean go to Afghanistan?"
"I think you know better." Entreri glanced at his cell phone as it began to ring. He picked it up, and without bothering to listen to Jarlaxle's greeting, said, "We're on our way." Then he hung up.
"We? I thought you were giving me a choice in the matter?" Siobhan asked incredulously.
"I am," Entreri said slyly. "Your other choice is to walk out there and explain how a fully-grown adult male just `disappeared' from the premises, and how you were *not* an accomplice to that rather enterprising maneuver."
"You are an asshole," Siobhan told him again. "Can't you just knock me out and leave me here? I'll be unconscious; I won't have anything to answer for."
"I could," Entreri said, "but I won't. At least, not until after my associate has spoken with you."
Siobhan thought about that for a moment. "I've always wanted to see Waterdeep," she said finally, giving him a pointed look.
"Well, you're in luck," Entreri told her. "I can show you Waterdeep...I, ah, suppose it's the least I can do for putting you into this situation."
At least he had the grace to look halfway contrite. "Aside from beating me up?" Siobhan said. She could play the guilt card as well as any.
"Don't worry," he assured her by way of apology. "I know how to make it look really bad without hurting you much." He stood up and stretched, checking his cell phone to make sure the magical properties were working correctly.
Siobhan laughed helplessly, the stress of the day finally catching up with her, and bit back a sarcastic but wholly inappropriate retort.
***
Later, Siobhan relaxed more comfortably in Jarlaxle's quarters while Entreri related his experiences to the dark elf. She could hear their voices clearly through the open door.
"Really, my _khal abbil_, you do seem to have a propensity for picking up cute redheads. Though your technique could use some work, I should say. Threats and kidnapping? That's at least four points off on style," Jarlaxle was saying.
"Would you be serious for once?" Entreri snapped.
"Would you be anything less than serious, ever?" countered Jarlaxle. "I've read the manuscript your friend brought with her, and I've decided I greatly overestimated the threat of this...Salvatore. Aside from a few slightly less-than-complimentary passages regarding the whole Shard debacle, his book presents a rather glowing and stylish portrayal of me. And you, my friend, turned out to be quite the hero!" The mercenary chuckled. "I do not see the need for drastic measures here."
"I do not like it," Entreri said stubbornly. "I intend to go back and finish this."
Siobhan got up and went to the door. "You can't kill R.A. Salvatore, you know," she said to Entreri. "He _invented_ you. If you kill him, you'll only live on in other peoples' crappy fanfics. You'll become so two-dimensional, you could turn sideways and disappear." That didn't seem to faze the assassin, so she went on, "You'll find yourself uttering the same ridiculous one-liners over and over, and doing stupid things like using `Drizzit Dudden' as an alias."
Entreri stared at her in disbelief. There was no way she could have possibly known about that.
Siobhan smiled and handed him her notebook. He flipped through the pages and shuddered; it was all in there.
"You are telling me I'm a fictional character?" he asked, playing along with the ridiculous notion.
She nodded. "The scene in the car tipped me off," she said. "When you were able to drive at speeds upwards of 120 miles per hour _and_ shoot a rifle with unerring accuracy, at the same time, without ever having done either one of those things before. No real person could do that."
"I think that's her very backhanded way of saying you're a really amazing guy," Jarlaxle interjected from the corner of the room, still poring over his picture on the cover of the Salvatore book.
"You were the one who wrote the story," Entreri protested, ignoring him.
Siobhan shrugged wearily; it had been a long day and an even longer night before that. "True," she said cryptically, "but I've only just read it."
***
THE END
***
"You psycho!" she screamed as soon as she'd gathered a breath. "Who the hell are you really?"
"Someone you would be wise not to cross," Entreri replied, dropping his slightly-hapless-refugee facade. "Now, on your life, hold the wheel steady."
Siobhan stared at him in horror, and he thought he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes, as if she had heard similar words before. Of course, he thought. She was beginning to understand the truth of him in her heart, even if her mind couldn't accept it yet.
Shakily she took the wheel, guiding it with just a touch of pressure as they flew around a curve in the road. Entreri deftly worked his AK-47 hunting rifle out from under his coat, careful not to jostle the steering wheel, and aimed it out the window at the pursuing cop car's tires. He took a shot and saw the car spin off the road as the car's left front tire was ripped to shreds. He took several more shots at the windshield, shattering the glass, before speeding away.
"Oh my God," Siobhan muttered to herself, over and over like a mantra.
Another cop car came careening up the road, sirens blaring. All other traffic had stopped to allow the police their chase. One officer was leaning out the window with a gun of his own, intent on shooting out the Celica's tires. Entreri took aim and shot him in the hand, and the gun went flying down the road.
"I cannot believe you are shooting cops," Siobhan said. "This is unreal. This just isn't happening."
Entreri calmly disabled the second cop car as he had done the first and propped the gun up for the moment, taking back the steering wheel. "I need a secure structure not very far from here, fairly secluded, preferably abandoned," he said, as coolly as if he were ordering a meal in a swanky restaurant. "Tell me you know of something that fits that description."
"Um..." Siobhan was searching her mind frantically.
"If you need any more prodding, imagine yourself being ripped apart in a hail of gunfire."
"The old button factory!" she shrieked. "It's on the outskirts of the city, in an industrial district that's mostly closed down now. Get off at the next exit, make a right."
"Good girl," Entreri said sarcastically. He got off the freeway and headed into a grimy, neglected section of the city. Several cop cars came out of side streets to converge on him, but he ran the blockade and kept going. He followed Siobhan's directions and arrived at the factory building with no less than six cop cars in pursuit, and a seventh adversary up in the sky, shining a bright light on him.
"They've got choppers," Siobhan gasped as he dragged her out of the car. "You'll never get away!"
"I already have," he said as the cop cars screeched to a halt. He pulled Siobhan in front of him and slipped his hands up underneath her arms, pinning them and driving the heel of one hand down on the back of her neck while holding a pistol to her head with the other.
"You asshole!" she screamed, her voice shrill with terror. She tried to fight, but the way he was restraining her, he could easily snap her neck if she struggled too fiercely.
The cops were standing with guns drawn, helpless to save her, as Entreri forced the door open with a backward kick and backpedaled inside, dragging her along with him.
***
Little light spilled in through the factory's boarded up windows, but Entreri was comfortable in the gloom. He had tried dialing his cell phone to return to Jarlaxle's tower, but the magical signal was weak. Right now there was nothing he could do but wait.
Siobhan sat quietly along the wall, watching him pace. He'd removed the coat and most of the guns. They had been fun, but Entreri preferred his dagger and sword for up-close, personal killings. The dagger he displayed openly, its jewels catching and throwing back the meager shafts of light.
"Who are you?" Siobhan said finally, after the minutes had stretched into an hour, and then two. Outside the cops kept a perimeter guard, though no one more qualified to handle the situation had yet arrived on the scene.
"Do you not know?" Entreri asked softly, drawing his dagger and crouching down in front of her. Her eyes widened as he ran a finger over the blade, drawing blood from a wound that closed up as quickly as it was made.
"I...what I think you are insinuating is logically impossible," she responded, her courage bolstered by that simple statement of fact.
"Would you like to see where I come from, so you might judge that from experience?" he asked.
"You mean go to Afghanistan?"
"I think you know better." Entreri glanced at his cell phone as it began to ring. He picked it up, and without bothering to listen to Jarlaxle's greeting, said, "We're on our way." Then he hung up.
"We? I thought you were giving me a choice in the matter?" Siobhan asked incredulously.
"I am," Entreri said slyly. "Your other choice is to walk out there and explain how a fully-grown adult male just `disappeared' from the premises, and how you were *not* an accomplice to that rather enterprising maneuver."
"You are an asshole," Siobhan told him again. "Can't you just knock me out and leave me here? I'll be unconscious; I won't have anything to answer for."
"I could," Entreri said, "but I won't. At least, not until after my associate has spoken with you."
Siobhan thought about that for a moment. "I've always wanted to see Waterdeep," she said finally, giving him a pointed look.
"Well, you're in luck," Entreri told her. "I can show you Waterdeep...I, ah, suppose it's the least I can do for putting you into this situation."
At least he had the grace to look halfway contrite. "Aside from beating me up?" Siobhan said. She could play the guilt card as well as any.
"Don't worry," he assured her by way of apology. "I know how to make it look really bad without hurting you much." He stood up and stretched, checking his cell phone to make sure the magical properties were working correctly.
Siobhan laughed helplessly, the stress of the day finally catching up with her, and bit back a sarcastic but wholly inappropriate retort.
***
Later, Siobhan relaxed more comfortably in Jarlaxle's quarters while Entreri related his experiences to the dark elf. She could hear their voices clearly through the open door.
"Really, my _khal abbil_, you do seem to have a propensity for picking up cute redheads. Though your technique could use some work, I should say. Threats and kidnapping? That's at least four points off on style," Jarlaxle was saying.
"Would you be serious for once?" Entreri snapped.
"Would you be anything less than serious, ever?" countered Jarlaxle. "I've read the manuscript your friend brought with her, and I've decided I greatly overestimated the threat of this...Salvatore. Aside from a few slightly less-than-complimentary passages regarding the whole Shard debacle, his book presents a rather glowing and stylish portrayal of me. And you, my friend, turned out to be quite the hero!" The mercenary chuckled. "I do not see the need for drastic measures here."
"I do not like it," Entreri said stubbornly. "I intend to go back and finish this."
Siobhan got up and went to the door. "You can't kill R.A. Salvatore, you know," she said to Entreri. "He _invented_ you. If you kill him, you'll only live on in other peoples' crappy fanfics. You'll become so two-dimensional, you could turn sideways and disappear." That didn't seem to faze the assassin, so she went on, "You'll find yourself uttering the same ridiculous one-liners over and over, and doing stupid things like using `Drizzit Dudden' as an alias."
Entreri stared at her in disbelief. There was no way she could have possibly known about that.
Siobhan smiled and handed him her notebook. He flipped through the pages and shuddered; it was all in there.
"You are telling me I'm a fictional character?" he asked, playing along with the ridiculous notion.
She nodded. "The scene in the car tipped me off," she said. "When you were able to drive at speeds upwards of 120 miles per hour _and_ shoot a rifle with unerring accuracy, at the same time, without ever having done either one of those things before. No real person could do that."
"I think that's her very backhanded way of saying you're a really amazing guy," Jarlaxle interjected from the corner of the room, still poring over his picture on the cover of the Salvatore book.
"You were the one who wrote the story," Entreri protested, ignoring him.
Siobhan shrugged wearily; it had been a long day and an even longer night before that. "True," she said cryptically, "but I've only just read it."
***
THE END