Chapter, um . . . seven?
Disclaimer: once upon a time there was a really big company that made a really good TV show and all was good and such. Then they axed it and the masses cried out against it. But the big company could not be swayed and so the masses resorted to the lowest sort of revenge- Fan Fiction (*dum dum duuuuumm*). And the big company was annoyed and so they sued left right and centre. One of the masses was a girl who was very poor and also brutally used the characters in strange and twisted stories. Despite her poverty she made no money out of this . . . *trails off*
*Straightens and clears throat* Ehem, yes, what I'm trying to say is don't sue me.
Some time earlier . . .
Lyle strode triumphantly ahead of a team of sweepers. He could feel that this time was it. They'd found him.
There had been a brief disappointed pause in the chase when they had burst in on Marina but she had told them that Jarod had gone out to do some business. Lyle hadn't known to ask about Miss Parker so Marina hadn't said anything. She'd been too scared of the strange men in suits that had waved guns at her. But she lived in New York and had soon gotten over it.
Now Lyle and his team were seeking out the mob boss to enlist his help in catching Jarod.
*****************************
Also some time earlier . . .
The very person that Lyle was seeking was currently engaged in a long game of poker. The smoky room was full of his loyal gang members. There was a pile of chips in the middle of the table and all were concentrating on their cards when the group of black suited sweepers burst in, Lyle in the centre of them. All had their pistols trained on the gangsters.
In that instant, every person in the crowded room had drawn their own firearm. 'He's not here,' stated one of the sweepers. There was a lengthy pause as the two sides considered each other then Lyle grinned and lowered his own weapon. 'I apologise sir,' he said, trying to cool the situation, 'have you seen this man?' He pulled out a picture of Jarod.
In his turn the fat man sitting at the card table returned a grin and gestured to his men to lower their guns. 'Ah, Jarod. I've dealt with him. In about half an hour there will be bits of him all over down town Manhattan.'
'Where is he?' Asked Lyle, his smile fading. If Jarod died, it would be a significant loss to the Centre.
'What do you want with him?' Asked the gangster warily. Lyle sensed that he wanted Jarod to suffer.
'He has done something to displease those I work for. They want to see him locked in a small cage for a long time.' Lyle desperately hoped his ploy would work. They needed the man to tell them what he had done with the Pretender.
The gang leader smiled. It would be a fitting vengeance. And if the smarmy man didn't make it in time then he too would probably been blown to bits. 'He's in an abandoned hotel a few miles from here. "The fourth elephant."'
Lyle nodded his thanks and the sweepers bundled out of the room to close their lead on Jarod.
*****************************
Jarod yanked futilely against the handcuffs then just lay back and relaxed. 'No,' he protested weakly, feeling helpless. There was nothing he could do. He was handcuffed across the other side of the room. The rapidly ticking little red numbers were a solid and impersonal countdown to his death. Ten minutes and fifteen seconds and then no more pain. His head hurt so he lay down again. Then he remembered; Miss Parker would die now if he didn't do something.
A wave of panic overtook him. He loved her. He'd never realised it before but he would give anything to make her happy. He couldn't fail her. Not now.
'Miss Parker?' he mumbled softly. She didn't stir. 'Miss Parker, please wake up,' he begged her, louder. She stayed well and truly unconscious. With an effort he stumbled to his feet, the handcuffs sliding up the pole to allow him.
The lock of the handcuffs was beyond him; even with his set of picks the lock was jammed up, so he turned his attention to the copper gas pipe.
It was about half an inch in diameter and it was held into the solid concrete wall by strips of metal that had screws driven through them and into the wall.
He glanced back at the bomb- nine minutes and fifty-two seconds.
Sighing he braced himself then threw his entire weight against the handcuffs. They abruptly pulled him up short and it felt like his shoulder had been pulled out of its socket, but there was a groan from the gas pipe. Gritting his teeth he tried again. Red-hot agony went through his shoulder but the pipe began to bend away from the wall. Small flakes of concrete came away from the screws.
Stopping for a moment Jarod tried to pry at the screws with his fingernails. He ripped and tore them before he angrily pulled at the pipe again. There was a high screeching sound and three of the connectors popped out of the wall. The screws tinkled to the floor. Where the handcuffs had pulled strongest the copped pipe had bent away from the wall.
Nine minutes and eight seconds.
Jarod ran his hand up and down the pipe. There was a join about shoulder level. He moved the handcuff chain up to that level and heaved. There was a faint hiss of escaping gas. Seizing the chain of the cuffs with his free hand to save his shoulder he threw himself backwards. And hit the floor with a thump. The pipe had given way and was spewing gas. He didn't care. Turning he dashed to Parker's side.
Eight minutes and thirty-five seconds.
Her head was turned to one side and closer to he could see the blood matted in her shining dark hair. It was oozing from the lump on the back of the head. 'Parker?' He asked, gingerly brushing the hair out of her face. She didn't answer but there was a faint rise in her chest.
Jarod took a deep breath. She was alive. Carefully, he rolled her into the recovery position. Leaning over her he couldn't think what to do for a second. Despite the blood she looked peaceful with her eyes closed- like she was just sleeping. Jarod hovered over her, not sure if she was OK or not. He could feel something fighting for his attention but he pushed it away. Carefully he checked for any broken ribs. After a moment he ascertained that her ribcage was sound.
Six minutes and twelve seconds.
The hissing of the gas pipe broke his reverie. The knowledge of the bomb swam back to the surface of his fuzzy thoughts. The panic returned and Jarod quickly tried to stand making the world spin again.
When it he felt he could walk without falling he stumbled over to the mass of wires and metal that squatted like an ugly electrical toad in the corner. The red, digital countdown numbers stated that he had five minutes and forty seconds to doomsday.
He looked at the explosive and swallowed hard. It was a lump of C4 about the size of a soccer ball. If it blew it would take out an area the size of a city block. Trying to stop his hands from shaking he carefully began to inspect the wiring.
It was a complicated bomb. He didn't know if he could do it in time but nor could he carry the unconscious Parker out of the blast zone in time. Besides, who knew how many people could be hurt if it went off.
Five minutes and twenty-eight seconds.
'Get your hands in the air Jarod.' Lyles voice rang out in the bare hotel foyer.
A shock ran through Jarod. They shouldn't be here yet. He thought. Then he realised that Lyle probably hadn't seen Parker yet. She was behind one of the pillars from the madman's perspective. Likewise, the bomb was behind Jarod's body for Lyle and the sweepers. Even as he realised all this, he didn't reply but kept working at the bomb, the handcuffs dangling from one wrist.
He heard footsteps move closer and the cold barrel of a gun was pressed to the back of his neck. 'Now's not a good time Lyle,' said Jarod with a cockiness he didn't feel, moving slightly to reveal the bomb he was working on.
'Shit.' Said Lyle. 'Is that what I think it is?'
'Yes, and if you don't get that gun away from me I'll kill us all.' Jarod didn't mean his threat but he was tired and he ached all over. It worked though. Lyle withdrew. He must have looked around then for he discovered Parker. 'Shit,' he swore again. 'What the hell did you do to her Jarod?' Asked Lyle, feeling suddenly protective of his sister.
Guilt bit Jarod hard and he hung his head, pausing his frantic work for a second. 'I let her come with me. I should have made her stay with Marina.' He sat there, feeling like the lowest scum for letting Parker get hurt.
Lyle looked at Jarod and realised that he had stopped working. He pulled his gun again and pointed it at Jarod. 'Right, don't stop for anything Jarod. I'm not getting blown up today.' Lyle ordered. He could see the red numbers. They said three minutes and sixteen seconds. And they were ticking fast.
TBC . . . (or will it?)
Disclaimer: once upon a time there was a really big company that made a really good TV show and all was good and such. Then they axed it and the masses cried out against it. But the big company could not be swayed and so the masses resorted to the lowest sort of revenge- Fan Fiction (*dum dum duuuuumm*). And the big company was annoyed and so they sued left right and centre. One of the masses was a girl who was very poor and also brutally used the characters in strange and twisted stories. Despite her poverty she made no money out of this . . . *trails off*
*Straightens and clears throat* Ehem, yes, what I'm trying to say is don't sue me.
Some time earlier . . .
Lyle strode triumphantly ahead of a team of sweepers. He could feel that this time was it. They'd found him.
There had been a brief disappointed pause in the chase when they had burst in on Marina but she had told them that Jarod had gone out to do some business. Lyle hadn't known to ask about Miss Parker so Marina hadn't said anything. She'd been too scared of the strange men in suits that had waved guns at her. But she lived in New York and had soon gotten over it.
Now Lyle and his team were seeking out the mob boss to enlist his help in catching Jarod.
*****************************
Also some time earlier . . .
The very person that Lyle was seeking was currently engaged in a long game of poker. The smoky room was full of his loyal gang members. There was a pile of chips in the middle of the table and all were concentrating on their cards when the group of black suited sweepers burst in, Lyle in the centre of them. All had their pistols trained on the gangsters.
In that instant, every person in the crowded room had drawn their own firearm. 'He's not here,' stated one of the sweepers. There was a lengthy pause as the two sides considered each other then Lyle grinned and lowered his own weapon. 'I apologise sir,' he said, trying to cool the situation, 'have you seen this man?' He pulled out a picture of Jarod.
In his turn the fat man sitting at the card table returned a grin and gestured to his men to lower their guns. 'Ah, Jarod. I've dealt with him. In about half an hour there will be bits of him all over down town Manhattan.'
'Where is he?' Asked Lyle, his smile fading. If Jarod died, it would be a significant loss to the Centre.
'What do you want with him?' Asked the gangster warily. Lyle sensed that he wanted Jarod to suffer.
'He has done something to displease those I work for. They want to see him locked in a small cage for a long time.' Lyle desperately hoped his ploy would work. They needed the man to tell them what he had done with the Pretender.
The gang leader smiled. It would be a fitting vengeance. And if the smarmy man didn't make it in time then he too would probably been blown to bits. 'He's in an abandoned hotel a few miles from here. "The fourth elephant."'
Lyle nodded his thanks and the sweepers bundled out of the room to close their lead on Jarod.
*****************************
Jarod yanked futilely against the handcuffs then just lay back and relaxed. 'No,' he protested weakly, feeling helpless. There was nothing he could do. He was handcuffed across the other side of the room. The rapidly ticking little red numbers were a solid and impersonal countdown to his death. Ten minutes and fifteen seconds and then no more pain. His head hurt so he lay down again. Then he remembered; Miss Parker would die now if he didn't do something.
A wave of panic overtook him. He loved her. He'd never realised it before but he would give anything to make her happy. He couldn't fail her. Not now.
'Miss Parker?' he mumbled softly. She didn't stir. 'Miss Parker, please wake up,' he begged her, louder. She stayed well and truly unconscious. With an effort he stumbled to his feet, the handcuffs sliding up the pole to allow him.
The lock of the handcuffs was beyond him; even with his set of picks the lock was jammed up, so he turned his attention to the copper gas pipe.
It was about half an inch in diameter and it was held into the solid concrete wall by strips of metal that had screws driven through them and into the wall.
He glanced back at the bomb- nine minutes and fifty-two seconds.
Sighing he braced himself then threw his entire weight against the handcuffs. They abruptly pulled him up short and it felt like his shoulder had been pulled out of its socket, but there was a groan from the gas pipe. Gritting his teeth he tried again. Red-hot agony went through his shoulder but the pipe began to bend away from the wall. Small flakes of concrete came away from the screws.
Stopping for a moment Jarod tried to pry at the screws with his fingernails. He ripped and tore them before he angrily pulled at the pipe again. There was a high screeching sound and three of the connectors popped out of the wall. The screws tinkled to the floor. Where the handcuffs had pulled strongest the copped pipe had bent away from the wall.
Nine minutes and eight seconds.
Jarod ran his hand up and down the pipe. There was a join about shoulder level. He moved the handcuff chain up to that level and heaved. There was a faint hiss of escaping gas. Seizing the chain of the cuffs with his free hand to save his shoulder he threw himself backwards. And hit the floor with a thump. The pipe had given way and was spewing gas. He didn't care. Turning he dashed to Parker's side.
Eight minutes and thirty-five seconds.
Her head was turned to one side and closer to he could see the blood matted in her shining dark hair. It was oozing from the lump on the back of the head. 'Parker?' He asked, gingerly brushing the hair out of her face. She didn't answer but there was a faint rise in her chest.
Jarod took a deep breath. She was alive. Carefully, he rolled her into the recovery position. Leaning over her he couldn't think what to do for a second. Despite the blood she looked peaceful with her eyes closed- like she was just sleeping. Jarod hovered over her, not sure if she was OK or not. He could feel something fighting for his attention but he pushed it away. Carefully he checked for any broken ribs. After a moment he ascertained that her ribcage was sound.
Six minutes and twelve seconds.
The hissing of the gas pipe broke his reverie. The knowledge of the bomb swam back to the surface of his fuzzy thoughts. The panic returned and Jarod quickly tried to stand making the world spin again.
When it he felt he could walk without falling he stumbled over to the mass of wires and metal that squatted like an ugly electrical toad in the corner. The red, digital countdown numbers stated that he had five minutes and forty seconds to doomsday.
He looked at the explosive and swallowed hard. It was a lump of C4 about the size of a soccer ball. If it blew it would take out an area the size of a city block. Trying to stop his hands from shaking he carefully began to inspect the wiring.
It was a complicated bomb. He didn't know if he could do it in time but nor could he carry the unconscious Parker out of the blast zone in time. Besides, who knew how many people could be hurt if it went off.
Five minutes and twenty-eight seconds.
'Get your hands in the air Jarod.' Lyles voice rang out in the bare hotel foyer.
A shock ran through Jarod. They shouldn't be here yet. He thought. Then he realised that Lyle probably hadn't seen Parker yet. She was behind one of the pillars from the madman's perspective. Likewise, the bomb was behind Jarod's body for Lyle and the sweepers. Even as he realised all this, he didn't reply but kept working at the bomb, the handcuffs dangling from one wrist.
He heard footsteps move closer and the cold barrel of a gun was pressed to the back of his neck. 'Now's not a good time Lyle,' said Jarod with a cockiness he didn't feel, moving slightly to reveal the bomb he was working on.
'Shit.' Said Lyle. 'Is that what I think it is?'
'Yes, and if you don't get that gun away from me I'll kill us all.' Jarod didn't mean his threat but he was tired and he ached all over. It worked though. Lyle withdrew. He must have looked around then for he discovered Parker. 'Shit,' he swore again. 'What the hell did you do to her Jarod?' Asked Lyle, feeling suddenly protective of his sister.
Guilt bit Jarod hard and he hung his head, pausing his frantic work for a second. 'I let her come with me. I should have made her stay with Marina.' He sat there, feeling like the lowest scum for letting Parker get hurt.
Lyle looked at Jarod and realised that he had stopped working. He pulled his gun again and pointed it at Jarod. 'Right, don't stop for anything Jarod. I'm not getting blown up today.' Lyle ordered. He could see the red numbers. They said three minutes and sixteen seconds. And they were ticking fast.
TBC . . . (or will it?)
