Part 7
Author's Note: This is the first of two very long parts of the series, consequently this part took me forever to revise and therefore the next one will take forever as well.
Part 7 Flicker
Wearing three-inch heels can make your legs look incredibly sexy but they're murder for your feet. Marianne decided that she could no longer be a slave to fashion decided to be practical. Practical and nice were two very new words in Marianne's vocabulary. And she was shocked to learn that without heels, she was the exact same height as Broots. She wasn't the only one in shock, so was Broots. He had watched in awe as she tried her very first hamburger, and could hardly keep from bursting into peals of laughter as he had watched her wipe her tongue with her napkin. It was priceless, watching, the very look on her face, trying to keep dignified as she spit the contents out onto her tray. She threatened him then, in that murderous low voice of hers, something about "a head" rolling off. Marianne had somehow changed, while managing to maintain her black little heart in place.
It had taken a day or so, but Broots had worked his usual magic. He had tracked down the very room that Baby Parker was supposedly being held, though just what they were doing to him and why had proved elusive.
"You don't know just what condition you'll find your brother in." Broots had begun carefully.
"Are you sure that you really want to do this?"
Marianne's eyes had flashed angrily, understanding just where he was coming from, but irritated by his concern all the same.
"Of course." She snapped as she flung the blueprints that she had been studying back at him. She could feel a migraine coming on, and she was in no mood to deal with the inevitable pounding at the back of her head.
"Just worry about what condition you'll be in if you don't shut up."
***********************************
Sydney stood near his window, watching the wind pick up. It had been even lonelier now that his twisted little family had gone. All he knew that Raines and the sweepers had yet to find them.despite their efforts to shake the information out of him as best as they could. The truth was .he knew very little. The prospect of not knowing was eating his insides. He had desperately wanted help.Broots was so terrified he had jumped ship and Miss Parker.a shell of a woman in so much despair..
When the cell phone vibrated against the table, Sydney instantly knew who it was. It had been slipped into his pocket while he was at the market. utterly Jarod's style. Sydney leaned over the table and snapped the phone open.
"This is Sydney." He began in his smooth voice, waiting for a reply.
"Tell me everything you know about Project Veritas." Jarod began solemnly.
Sydney frowned as a flicker of memory passed along his face.
"Never heard of it." He replied firmly, as he sank into a nearby leather chair.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Jarod?" Sydney asked, "Are you still there?"
"I'm here." Jarod finally replied, sighing.
"What's wrong, Jarod? You sound worried." Sydney said suddenly, unable to mask his concern.
"There's a little boy being held in the centre as we speak. I don't know why or what. All I know is that he is tied with a project called Veritas and that I don't have much time. This is important Sydney. Help me find him."
As usual, Jarod didn't give Sydney a chance to reply. The very mention of Veritas had made Sydney's blood run cold. The dial tone rang loudly in his ear before he let go of the cell phone, letting it fall to the ground.
********************************************
She stared blankly at her gun, feeling the cold metal in her hand. This one had a pearl handle, one that she never used, and had always saved for a desperate occasion such as this. She had assumed the day would never come. The secret passageway had allowed her access to her home, unbeknownst to the centre parasites that now guarded it, as if it had never belonged to her, like it didn't belong to her still. She had quickly undressed as she pulled a leather bag off a nearby shelf. Black combat boots, black turtleneck and tight black pants, just the way she liked to dress. She was suddenly reminded of the hot summer she had spent in Japan. Her lover then had taught her how to shoot. With his arms wrapped taut around her waist, holding her upright as she had unloaded her gun again and again, the impact pushing her back.
"You will never be afraid again." He had whispered to her, tenderly brushing the blood away from her lip. She hadn't realized that she had bit down so hard. Things had seemed far simpler then, her whole life ahead of her. She could of chosen to do whatever she had damn well pleased. It was funny that she had returned to the very same place where her mother had been taken from her. She had sworn she would never return to that place so long as she lived. A sound in the next room made Marianne snap out of her thoughts and far too soon. Before she reached the door, it had swung open, and her attacker had already ambushed her, wrapping one arm around her neck and with his free hand, pulling down on her hair.
"So nice to see you, Miss Parker."
She did not recognize the cruel voice. She could smell the stench of his breath, laced with the malt liquor she had kept in the kitchen.
"Love what you did with the hair."
"Glad you like it." Marianne replied, as she slammed her head back, making contact with her attacker. She broke free and quickly spun around and deftly kicked the assailant in the neck. A low guttural sound escaped his lips as he sank to the ground. Marianne picked up his gun and noticed that that she had broken a nail.
" I hate it when that happens." She muttered as she tucked the gun into her belt.
She took off down the hallway and didn't have to wait long for another confrontation. She almost slammed into another oncoming sweeper. This one was smaller.with a nasty smile. He held up his gun and pointed it towards her. "Is that all you got?" Marianne asked, as she kicked the gun out of his hand. He rushed her, but Marianne was waiting for him. She cold cocked him hard. But the sweeper was not to be outdone. He was going down and he was taking her with him. Using his body weight, he knocked Marianne to the ground . and wasted no time in wrapping his hands firmly around her neck. A struggle ensued. Marianne was gasping for air and growing desperate, she didn't want to do this, and it wasn't ladylike. It took another three seconds to change her mind. She head butted him with all her might. It had caught him off guard for just a moment but that was all that she needed. She was back in control and brutally bashed the sweeper's head into the wall. Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity.she lifted herself off of him and reached over for her gun.
"Only two of you?" She said aloud, laughing bitterly as she straightened herself.
"You would think that the former head of security would warrant more."
She caught sight of herself in the mirror that hanging in the hallway. She lifted her fingers up to her face to touch the bruise that was forming on her cheek. She frowned and kicked her attacker once more, for good measure.
******************** Broots was close to panicking as he drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, wondering what was taking her so long for the millionth time. So much could go wrong. And having Debbie with them, there was so much more at stake. Why did I have to give in to Miss Parker? He wondered. She was gorgeous yes, but he couldn't help feeling like a pawn. He rubbed his balding head and wondered whether a beautiful woman was worth risking all the hair he had left. It was only a sudden distant roar that ripped Broots away from his worrisome thoughts. Broots instinctively sank lower into his seat, not realizing who was fast approaching on a motorcycle. The figure now stood next to the car, rapping on the window. She lifted her helmet and brushed her short blonde hair back away from her face. Icy blue eyes and a bruised cheek. "Broots!" She screamed.
"Today would be nice!"
Broots snapped to attention and started the car as Debbie stifled a small laugh.
"Does she always talk to you like that, daddy?" She asked.
Broots was too busy getting the car in gear to answer. Marianne was already down the road.
****************************************
It was a scent in the air that forced him to remember. It was a chapter in his life that he would have rather forgotten. He had convinced himself to be content with letting the rest of his years fade away with her, but that was before he heard that the old chairman had finally returned.
It was in her bed and in her arms that he let down his guard. He thought that she would understand; it had to be more then just an infatuation, more then just amazing sex. He was wrong.
"How can you love someone who hates you?!" He remembered Zoe screaming the night that he had packed his bags and left. He never looked back. He had cared for her deeply and was saddened by the fact that a man so scarred by his past was more then she could handle. She was jealous and he told her that she was being silly but she had every right to be. She had seen right through him, which was more then he ever gave her credit for. He was in love with the chairman's daughter. He wasn't being fair to her, wasn't being fair to himself. The truth was that his heart wasn't really his for giving; it already belonged to someone else.
He had wanted to see it for himself. He could never truly believe that the old man was dead until he saw his very grave. He had washed up on the shores of France. How could he not expect to see her again, the chairman's daughter, the one who's very existence he was so desperate to ignore. In his brashness he had gambled and he had lost. There was nothing more then pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move on. That was what he had expected, but he was an enigma, leading an enigmatic life. He was now on his way, playing the hero once more, but with the sinking feeling that this would be no ordinary rescue. ***************************************************
She held her breath, the palms of her hands laying flat against the wall that she was leaning on. She had to drive six hours, scale two fences and repel down an elevator shaft some hundred feet down just to get here. It was all in a day's work. She was exhausted and she didn't have the clearance to move any further.
"Ready." Came Broots distant voice through Marianne's earpiece. She officially had ten minutes to find her brother and get him out of there.
She extracted an old security card from her pocket. It had been Brigette's old security card and it was now activated. She slipped it into the appropriate slot at the door, and marveled silently as the green light flashed and the door swung open.
"Remind me to be nicer to you Broots" Marianne whispered, adjusting her earpiece as she slipped past through the door. What greeted her was a dark and low corridor. For a moment she stood in disbelief. She was unbelievably close.
She slowed as she reached her destination, taking in the view of the black and heavy door that separated her from him. She swung the door open, cursing under her breath as she went.
She knew that it was him the moment she saw him. It was unmistakable, dark brown hair closely cropped; he was dressed in simple official centre garb. Three years old and it was already apparent that he had been heavily drugged. His body rested on a small bed, eyes closed. Standing over him was Raines.
The old ghoul smiled as his eyes rested on her, wheezing slightly as he approached her.
Marianne was in disbelief. She couldn't fathom for a moment just what lay before her. Her hands shook as she pulled out her gun and raised it towards him.
"Just what hell have you done?" She hissed, as she tried to steady herself.
His thin lips broke into a smile once more. After a pause he answered dully.
"Nothing."
Marianne ignored him. She was already ripping plugs of the boy's body, scooping him up into her arms. Raines lurched forward, his voice taking an uglier tone.
"It would be wise if you forget about the boy and come with me." He grabbed her wrist with surprising strength.
"I am your father, Miss Parker," he continued, spitting out his words as if they disgusted him. "Whether you like it or not, a father knows what's best for his daughter."
Her heart pounding in her chest, Marianne suddenly became aware of another. It was her brother's steady yet faint heart, beating against her own.
"I refused to believe that I've come from something as despicable as you." She began, her voice suddenly calm, shaking her wrist free.
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Don't make me use force on my own daughter, Miss Parker." Raines laughed what was considered a laugh for him. It was a shallow passage of air that crackled as it passed his lips.
"With him?" Marianne began, as she motioned towards her brother. She aimed her gun at gun at Raines as she slowly backed away towards the door.
"You wouldn't dare."
She had just rushed out of the room in time to catch a glimpse of the sweepers in the hallway. With one arm wrapped tightly around her brother, she unloaded her gun, one, two, three times. She didn't wait to see what damage she had done. She dove towards the opening doors of a nearby elevator on her back, thudding her head against the wall. She saw the gun before she saw the sweeper holding it. Instinctively, she let off another pop. She heard the impact of the whizzing metal ripping through flesh, and the screams as the elevator doors closed. Gasping for air, she clutched her brother in her arms.
"Mama." He whispered weakly, his eyes remaining closed.
Marianne was relieved that he could speak.
"No sweetie, I'm not your mama. I'm your sister."
The boy made no reply. Marianne sighed.
"Broots." She whispered. "Get me out of here."
Marianne had already reached the woods before she had even come close to figuring out what to do. This wasn't part of the plan, only a desperate attempt to buy time. She could feel sweat running down her face as she heaved, the child hoisted on her hip, as she dragged herself along. She could hear the shouting and the sounds of alarm. It wouldn't be long before they would find her here, and she would just have to make sure that didn't happen. That was why the old Flemish man had been a sight for sore eyes.
"Sydney!" Marianne cried aloud, using the last bit of her strength to catch up to the figure walking along the dirt path.
Sydney paused and turned. He could barely hide his astonishment as he rushed towards her.
"Veritas. You found him." He cried.
Marianne never had the chance to respond, or to question. There was a searing pain in her back, lowering her to her knees as the expression in her eyes became frantic.
"Take the boy." She gasped, her free hand already searching for her wound. She let out a moan as she raised her bloodied hand to her eyes.
"Sydney. Take the boy. I've been shot." She demanded, more urgent then before.
"I can't leave you like this." Sydney's voice was becoming distant.
She felt a weight being taken off of her. Sydney was walking away with her brother. All of a sudden the child's eyes fluttered open, his gaze steadfast on hers. They were distinctly blue. Those are my eyes, Marianne thought. Why does that boy have my eyes? She asked herself, but she could no longer think, she was clouding over.
"Oh God." She whispered, her mind swimming.
"Run."
Tbc
Author's Note: This is the first of two very long parts of the series, consequently this part took me forever to revise and therefore the next one will take forever as well.
Part 7 Flicker
Wearing three-inch heels can make your legs look incredibly sexy but they're murder for your feet. Marianne decided that she could no longer be a slave to fashion decided to be practical. Practical and nice were two very new words in Marianne's vocabulary. And she was shocked to learn that without heels, she was the exact same height as Broots. She wasn't the only one in shock, so was Broots. He had watched in awe as she tried her very first hamburger, and could hardly keep from bursting into peals of laughter as he had watched her wipe her tongue with her napkin. It was priceless, watching, the very look on her face, trying to keep dignified as she spit the contents out onto her tray. She threatened him then, in that murderous low voice of hers, something about "a head" rolling off. Marianne had somehow changed, while managing to maintain her black little heart in place.
It had taken a day or so, but Broots had worked his usual magic. He had tracked down the very room that Baby Parker was supposedly being held, though just what they were doing to him and why had proved elusive.
"You don't know just what condition you'll find your brother in." Broots had begun carefully.
"Are you sure that you really want to do this?"
Marianne's eyes had flashed angrily, understanding just where he was coming from, but irritated by his concern all the same.
"Of course." She snapped as she flung the blueprints that she had been studying back at him. She could feel a migraine coming on, and she was in no mood to deal with the inevitable pounding at the back of her head.
"Just worry about what condition you'll be in if you don't shut up."
***********************************
Sydney stood near his window, watching the wind pick up. It had been even lonelier now that his twisted little family had gone. All he knew that Raines and the sweepers had yet to find them.despite their efforts to shake the information out of him as best as they could. The truth was .he knew very little. The prospect of not knowing was eating his insides. He had desperately wanted help.Broots was so terrified he had jumped ship and Miss Parker.a shell of a woman in so much despair..
When the cell phone vibrated against the table, Sydney instantly knew who it was. It had been slipped into his pocket while he was at the market. utterly Jarod's style. Sydney leaned over the table and snapped the phone open.
"This is Sydney." He began in his smooth voice, waiting for a reply.
"Tell me everything you know about Project Veritas." Jarod began solemnly.
Sydney frowned as a flicker of memory passed along his face.
"Never heard of it." He replied firmly, as he sank into a nearby leather chair.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Jarod?" Sydney asked, "Are you still there?"
"I'm here." Jarod finally replied, sighing.
"What's wrong, Jarod? You sound worried." Sydney said suddenly, unable to mask his concern.
"There's a little boy being held in the centre as we speak. I don't know why or what. All I know is that he is tied with a project called Veritas and that I don't have much time. This is important Sydney. Help me find him."
As usual, Jarod didn't give Sydney a chance to reply. The very mention of Veritas had made Sydney's blood run cold. The dial tone rang loudly in his ear before he let go of the cell phone, letting it fall to the ground.
********************************************
She stared blankly at her gun, feeling the cold metal in her hand. This one had a pearl handle, one that she never used, and had always saved for a desperate occasion such as this. She had assumed the day would never come. The secret passageway had allowed her access to her home, unbeknownst to the centre parasites that now guarded it, as if it had never belonged to her, like it didn't belong to her still. She had quickly undressed as she pulled a leather bag off a nearby shelf. Black combat boots, black turtleneck and tight black pants, just the way she liked to dress. She was suddenly reminded of the hot summer she had spent in Japan. Her lover then had taught her how to shoot. With his arms wrapped taut around her waist, holding her upright as she had unloaded her gun again and again, the impact pushing her back.
"You will never be afraid again." He had whispered to her, tenderly brushing the blood away from her lip. She hadn't realized that she had bit down so hard. Things had seemed far simpler then, her whole life ahead of her. She could of chosen to do whatever she had damn well pleased. It was funny that she had returned to the very same place where her mother had been taken from her. She had sworn she would never return to that place so long as she lived. A sound in the next room made Marianne snap out of her thoughts and far too soon. Before she reached the door, it had swung open, and her attacker had already ambushed her, wrapping one arm around her neck and with his free hand, pulling down on her hair.
"So nice to see you, Miss Parker."
She did not recognize the cruel voice. She could smell the stench of his breath, laced with the malt liquor she had kept in the kitchen.
"Love what you did with the hair."
"Glad you like it." Marianne replied, as she slammed her head back, making contact with her attacker. She broke free and quickly spun around and deftly kicked the assailant in the neck. A low guttural sound escaped his lips as he sank to the ground. Marianne picked up his gun and noticed that that she had broken a nail.
" I hate it when that happens." She muttered as she tucked the gun into her belt.
She took off down the hallway and didn't have to wait long for another confrontation. She almost slammed into another oncoming sweeper. This one was smaller.with a nasty smile. He held up his gun and pointed it towards her. "Is that all you got?" Marianne asked, as she kicked the gun out of his hand. He rushed her, but Marianne was waiting for him. She cold cocked him hard. But the sweeper was not to be outdone. He was going down and he was taking her with him. Using his body weight, he knocked Marianne to the ground . and wasted no time in wrapping his hands firmly around her neck. A struggle ensued. Marianne was gasping for air and growing desperate, she didn't want to do this, and it wasn't ladylike. It took another three seconds to change her mind. She head butted him with all her might. It had caught him off guard for just a moment but that was all that she needed. She was back in control and brutally bashed the sweeper's head into the wall. Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity.she lifted herself off of him and reached over for her gun.
"Only two of you?" She said aloud, laughing bitterly as she straightened herself.
"You would think that the former head of security would warrant more."
She caught sight of herself in the mirror that hanging in the hallway. She lifted her fingers up to her face to touch the bruise that was forming on her cheek. She frowned and kicked her attacker once more, for good measure.
******************** Broots was close to panicking as he drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, wondering what was taking her so long for the millionth time. So much could go wrong. And having Debbie with them, there was so much more at stake. Why did I have to give in to Miss Parker? He wondered. She was gorgeous yes, but he couldn't help feeling like a pawn. He rubbed his balding head and wondered whether a beautiful woman was worth risking all the hair he had left. It was only a sudden distant roar that ripped Broots away from his worrisome thoughts. Broots instinctively sank lower into his seat, not realizing who was fast approaching on a motorcycle. The figure now stood next to the car, rapping on the window. She lifted her helmet and brushed her short blonde hair back away from her face. Icy blue eyes and a bruised cheek. "Broots!" She screamed.
"Today would be nice!"
Broots snapped to attention and started the car as Debbie stifled a small laugh.
"Does she always talk to you like that, daddy?" She asked.
Broots was too busy getting the car in gear to answer. Marianne was already down the road.
****************************************
It was a scent in the air that forced him to remember. It was a chapter in his life that he would have rather forgotten. He had convinced himself to be content with letting the rest of his years fade away with her, but that was before he heard that the old chairman had finally returned.
It was in her bed and in her arms that he let down his guard. He thought that she would understand; it had to be more then just an infatuation, more then just amazing sex. He was wrong.
"How can you love someone who hates you?!" He remembered Zoe screaming the night that he had packed his bags and left. He never looked back. He had cared for her deeply and was saddened by the fact that a man so scarred by his past was more then she could handle. She was jealous and he told her that she was being silly but she had every right to be. She had seen right through him, which was more then he ever gave her credit for. He was in love with the chairman's daughter. He wasn't being fair to her, wasn't being fair to himself. The truth was that his heart wasn't really his for giving; it already belonged to someone else.
He had wanted to see it for himself. He could never truly believe that the old man was dead until he saw his very grave. He had washed up on the shores of France. How could he not expect to see her again, the chairman's daughter, the one who's very existence he was so desperate to ignore. In his brashness he had gambled and he had lost. There was nothing more then pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move on. That was what he had expected, but he was an enigma, leading an enigmatic life. He was now on his way, playing the hero once more, but with the sinking feeling that this would be no ordinary rescue. ***************************************************
She held her breath, the palms of her hands laying flat against the wall that she was leaning on. She had to drive six hours, scale two fences and repel down an elevator shaft some hundred feet down just to get here. It was all in a day's work. She was exhausted and she didn't have the clearance to move any further.
"Ready." Came Broots distant voice through Marianne's earpiece. She officially had ten minutes to find her brother and get him out of there.
She extracted an old security card from her pocket. It had been Brigette's old security card and it was now activated. She slipped it into the appropriate slot at the door, and marveled silently as the green light flashed and the door swung open.
"Remind me to be nicer to you Broots" Marianne whispered, adjusting her earpiece as she slipped past through the door. What greeted her was a dark and low corridor. For a moment she stood in disbelief. She was unbelievably close.
She slowed as she reached her destination, taking in the view of the black and heavy door that separated her from him. She swung the door open, cursing under her breath as she went.
She knew that it was him the moment she saw him. It was unmistakable, dark brown hair closely cropped; he was dressed in simple official centre garb. Three years old and it was already apparent that he had been heavily drugged. His body rested on a small bed, eyes closed. Standing over him was Raines.
The old ghoul smiled as his eyes rested on her, wheezing slightly as he approached her.
Marianne was in disbelief. She couldn't fathom for a moment just what lay before her. Her hands shook as she pulled out her gun and raised it towards him.
"Just what hell have you done?" She hissed, as she tried to steady herself.
His thin lips broke into a smile once more. After a pause he answered dully.
"Nothing."
Marianne ignored him. She was already ripping plugs of the boy's body, scooping him up into her arms. Raines lurched forward, his voice taking an uglier tone.
"It would be wise if you forget about the boy and come with me." He grabbed her wrist with surprising strength.
"I am your father, Miss Parker," he continued, spitting out his words as if they disgusted him. "Whether you like it or not, a father knows what's best for his daughter."
Her heart pounding in her chest, Marianne suddenly became aware of another. It was her brother's steady yet faint heart, beating against her own.
"I refused to believe that I've come from something as despicable as you." She began, her voice suddenly calm, shaking her wrist free.
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Don't make me use force on my own daughter, Miss Parker." Raines laughed what was considered a laugh for him. It was a shallow passage of air that crackled as it passed his lips.
"With him?" Marianne began, as she motioned towards her brother. She aimed her gun at gun at Raines as she slowly backed away towards the door.
"You wouldn't dare."
She had just rushed out of the room in time to catch a glimpse of the sweepers in the hallway. With one arm wrapped tightly around her brother, she unloaded her gun, one, two, three times. She didn't wait to see what damage she had done. She dove towards the opening doors of a nearby elevator on her back, thudding her head against the wall. She saw the gun before she saw the sweeper holding it. Instinctively, she let off another pop. She heard the impact of the whizzing metal ripping through flesh, and the screams as the elevator doors closed. Gasping for air, she clutched her brother in her arms.
"Mama." He whispered weakly, his eyes remaining closed.
Marianne was relieved that he could speak.
"No sweetie, I'm not your mama. I'm your sister."
The boy made no reply. Marianne sighed.
"Broots." She whispered. "Get me out of here."
Marianne had already reached the woods before she had even come close to figuring out what to do. This wasn't part of the plan, only a desperate attempt to buy time. She could feel sweat running down her face as she heaved, the child hoisted on her hip, as she dragged herself along. She could hear the shouting and the sounds of alarm. It wouldn't be long before they would find her here, and she would just have to make sure that didn't happen. That was why the old Flemish man had been a sight for sore eyes.
"Sydney!" Marianne cried aloud, using the last bit of her strength to catch up to the figure walking along the dirt path.
Sydney paused and turned. He could barely hide his astonishment as he rushed towards her.
"Veritas. You found him." He cried.
Marianne never had the chance to respond, or to question. There was a searing pain in her back, lowering her to her knees as the expression in her eyes became frantic.
"Take the boy." She gasped, her free hand already searching for her wound. She let out a moan as she raised her bloodied hand to her eyes.
"Sydney. Take the boy. I've been shot." She demanded, more urgent then before.
"I can't leave you like this." Sydney's voice was becoming distant.
She felt a weight being taken off of her. Sydney was walking away with her brother. All of a sudden the child's eyes fluttered open, his gaze steadfast on hers. They were distinctly blue. Those are my eyes, Marianne thought. Why does that boy have my eyes? She asked herself, but she could no longer think, she was clouding over.
"Oh God." She whispered, her mind swimming.
"Run."
Tbc