Notes: Yay!! FF.Net is up! It must be, if you're reading this right now.
I just got back from vacation with Kathryn in England, which was really
fun! I *love* England! There's just something about it, the feel of
it...but it's good to be home too.
Credits, as usual, go to Kathryn and Olivia.
Oh yeah, glad someone enjoyed the Batman reference. :) But no, he won't make an appearance. You can't have a cameo appearance with Batman, because once Batman gets into it, he doesn't get *out*, if ya know what I mean. ^_~ It's just that right now I can't have a crossover, it's just too late in the story.
Disclaimer: JCA belongs to KWB, Sony Productions, Jackie Chan--but, oh, you *knew* that already! Okay then--"1984" is by George Orwell. Yeah, there's a reference here (the title shoulda been a give-away) - if I made any mistake, please tell me. It's been a year since I read that book, so I don't remember it word-for-word. One more thing...Royal Flush Gang belongs to the Batman genre. Or Batman Beyond. Whichever.
Olivia- this one's for you, darling. ;)
THE DEMON WITHIN
Part Ten: Big Brother is Watching You
-A-
Hours earlier, when the night was still on, most of California was asleep. So no one noticed when out of an alley emerged the dazed man still in his pajamas, led by the abnormal shadow figure, the only sign of light being its seemingly glowing sword. Its unusual brightness had attracted Jackie's eyes several times, and each time he wished for one of his own. Then the thought would disappear only to resurface later on, and the cycle would start over again.
Jackie hardly felt the Shadowkha's cold, dead grip around his own lifeless wrist. His steps felt light, as if he were walking in a dream. Maybe he *was* dreaming. Now there was something to consider. Was it a good dream? Was he enjoying it? Yes, he decided finally. He was. There was nothing to worry about, nothing left to think of. This Shadowkha was holding *his* wrist, was leading *him* -- not the other way around. All he head to do was to trust, to submit, and everything else would be taken care of.
He tasted something sweet and sugary in his mouth: it was candy. What sort of candy, he wondered? He licked his lips. Peppermint? No. Chocolate? No. He didn't like those things as much as he liked... Caramel! That was it! Caramel was his favourite; it had been his favourite ever since he was ten years old and he'd first tasted a caramel apple. It was at some sort of a fair. Who had given it to him, again? Was it...? Well, what did it matter? That was the past, after all, and the past didn't exist. Only now existed, now with the caramel taste in his mouth and the gleam of the Shadowka's sword in his eyes.
Suddenly Jackie realised that they'd stopped, but his passive mind questioned it not. He was only vaguely aware when the door they stood before swung open and the Shadowkha guided him inside to meet someone sitting casually on the dusty couch.
Jackie gazed numbly at the white-haired man's demonic red eyes. The man stood. Jackie felt the Shadowkha's hand let go of his wrist, and his arms dropped limp by his side. He took one step forward. Then another. Baby steps - as if he were a small child only learning how to walk into his parent's arms. Closer and closer he went, until finally he could walk no farther without bumping into the taller man. And the taller man raised his hand and Jackie felt his fingers entangled in his jet-black hair, soft as a summer night breeze, gentle as if caring for something sacred and fragile as an angel. And he trailed his hand through Jackie's hair to the ends until it fell through his fingers and lay down again, and he proceeded down his face, down his forehead, over his eyes so that Jackie had to shut them, down his nose, lips, chin. His touch was so faint it was irresistible, so mysterious it was compelling; it sent shivers mixed with pain and pleasure running up and down Jackie's spine.
Through his closed eyes Jackie could see darkness but also something else, something that gave birth to warmth within him: he saw -- or sensed -- the man smiling. Not that his smile reflected more animosity and corruption and sadism than Jackie could ever fathom -- but simply that he smiled. And Jackie couldn't help but smile back, sweetly.
In his current state Jackie would find the voices of mortals -- whether they be Valmont or Finn, Jade or Uncle -- indistinct. But Shendu was not mortal, so Jackie could understand him perfectly: "Welcome home, Jackie Chan."
***********
A visit to Big Brother was definitely undesirable amongst many who knew of them, the Enforcers included. They had never actually come face-to-face with anyone from this particular crime industry, but living vicariously through rumours was enough.
According to these rumours, Big Brother consisted of some of the most wicked sociopath around the world. Acceptance in this network required absolute commitment to their own "government" called The Party, a Communist- like system that met thinking and individuality with harsh punishment. Members of Big Brother were said to have led vapid, robotic lives, tending to their duties without question -- the result of brainwashing, many suspected.
Aside from the above mentioned, this crime network was particularly creative. Its entire system stemmed from George Orwell's classic novel 1984, a book treated as the Bible amoung the group's members. Copies rested in each member's hands, read and re-read over and again. Although none of the Enforcers had ever read the book (especially Ratso), they each held a similar idea of what it was about.
Purely through English relations had Big Brother become a valuable asset to the Dark Hand and vice versa. But everything had changed, Finn now recalled, in nineteen-ninety when the Dark Hand moved to the United States of America, the promised land that ruled with democracy. At the drop of a hat Valmont had made the number one spot on Big Brother's hit list. This only made the Enforcers' visit yet more undesirable. So, less than enthusiastic at the prospect of getting killed, the Enforcers decided they would claim to be agents of the Royal Flush Gang, a one hundred per cent English organisation that hoped to one day dominate England's constitutional monarchy.
Officially Big Brother resided in London, but like most successful crime organisations it had cells all over the world, one conveniently being in San Francisco despite their obvious hatred toward the U.S. It took them two trains and three buses, but the Enforcers finally arrived at the shabby little deli on Cantebury Street. This time the sign read in bold red print "OPEN," and Finn went first with the other two following.
Finn allowed himself a look around, devoting every aspect of the corner store to memory. To the left was a stack of hostess products, and next to that were two running coffee pots, two containers of milk, packs of sugars and thin straws. On the opposite side was the clerk's counter (the clerk himself was absent), and beneath that were rows of candy. Farther down were the refrigerated beverages and cold cuts. All three of the Enforcers suddenly realised how hungry they were.
_Well, why not?_ Finn thought to himself. After all, they had to wait for the clerk anyway. He guessed his companions thought the same thing, because Ratso started for the cupcakes while Chow tended to the candy. Finn himself went for the chips, and all three fixed themselves coffee.
The Enforcers could hear the doorknob turn, and they looked toward the back of the room just in time to see the door open and the clerk emerge. He was serious-faced man, somewhere in his forties, with glossy hair and tanned skin. His white apron was filthy with various coloured stains, such as ketchup and mustard. This did not go well with his oddly tye-dyed shirt.
He made his way to behind the counter, eyes closely fixed on the Enforcers. The three of them felt him burning holes through them. Chow gulped, Ratso grew stiff, and Finn pretended to cough.
Tentatively Finn edged his way toward the counter and set down his chips and coffee. Although he didn't look up, he knew that the clerk never wavered his gaze as he rang up the cost on the cash register. Under normal circumstances Finn would hold out his gun and demand the clerk's money instead of paying, but decided against it since this was one of the hideouts of a very successful crime organisation. So he held out a ten dollar bill, collected his change and goodies, and stepped aside for Chow and Ratso to follow his example.
Save for the coffee they stuffed all their food into the duffel, which was now handled by Ratso. For a moment they were all still; Chow and Ratso turned to Finn in anticipation, but Finn was still deciding on what next move to make. He cleared his throat and stared down at his white boots, which were bemired along the edges. He scowled; he didn't appreciate sloppy apparel -- particularly *his* apparel. If he were an optimist, he would have realised that at least his bellbottoms were still intact, cuffed neatly over the top of shoes.
"May I help you?" Finn snapped out of his reverie at the sound of the clerk's heavily Arabic accented request. He looked up and blinked slowly at the clerk's skeptical and annoyed facade.
"Uh, yeah," he faltered, shuffling his feet. No, now was *not* a good time to screw up. He'd made that promise to Hak Foo, and he would keep it. Clearing his throat once more he stealthily approached the clerk. He leaned close and whispered the password: "Ingsoc."
The clerk drew away and blinked, nonplused: quite a change from his serious, almost hostile expression moments before. Nevertheless, he resumed his previous attitude with a solid glare as he trudged to the back of the store where he'd recently come from. He paused at the threshold to turn slightly and nod, indicating the Enforcers to follow. The three glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed.
Up the stairs they went, with Finn in the lead and Ratso lagging behind in last place. The stairway was narrow, with bright white-washed walls and no railings; Finn did his best to bury the slight sensation of claustrophobia that threatened to burst within him.
After what seemed to be an eternity they finally reached the second level. The clerk strode onward towards the dark curtains at the end of the short corridor. He disappeared behind them, and after gulping hard, the Enforcers did the same.
For a moment all was dark. Then, suddenly, bright lights switched on from every direction, and the Enforcers shielded their eyes with their arms. What *was* this? Finn suddenly envied Chow for his shades. After blinking hard repeatedly, Finn managed, through squinted eyes, to peer beyond his protective arm. Vaguely he could make out a small bench in the center of the room, but nothing else.
"Sit," a voice commanded, as if on cue. It had the same deepness of the clerk's, but with a strong English accent. Too surprised and dazed to object, the Enforcers wandered over to the bench and sat. "He will be with you shortly."
"Who?" Ratso wondered aloud. But the only reply was the insidious silence.
Suddenly, Finn felt a giant rock of panic drop in his stomach, and he knew this was all a big mistake.
He leaped to his feet and raced over to where the curtains had been moments before. Now he could feel the edges of a door, but with the exception of a handle.
As his trembling hands fell to his side, Finn turned around slowly to face his companions. "You guys," he said in shaky whisper, "we're trapped."
-B-
"Trapped?" Chow jumped on his feet and ran over to Finn. "Trapped? What do you mean by that!--Finn?"
"Calm down," Finn said, noting the cadence of fear in his companion's voice, though his own wasn't much better. He turned away from Chow, whose wide eyes Finn could see hiding behind his orange shades. He didn't want to see those fearful eyes; he was having enough trouble controlling his own panic. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to continue in a subdued voice, but it sounded more angry than anything: "This whole thing, it was a trick. A trick! They're figured it out, they figured out who we are."
"How-how'd they do that?" Ratso asked.
"Well, we ain't English for one!" Chow snapped suddenly. "That should have been a dead give away!"
Ratso blinked. "Oh."
"We gotta get out of here," Finn said aloud. Being able to learn best by hearing, it often helped Finn to think out loud. He now had one idea -- and a rather risky idea at that -- that he did not hesitate to deploy; he could hear Chow's laboured breaths and Ratso's fearful moans.
And so after he took his last bite at his fingernail, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his pistol.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
So startled by the calm, feminine voice that Finn gasped and nearly dropped his gun. Catching it and taking deep breaths, he turned to face their mysterious visitor.
She was a girl of no more than seventeen, short, with a small but round tummy. Tied back in a ponytail were curly locks of ebony, which reached her shoulders. Cobalt eyes stared back at them, bright with mischief. She wore the customary uniform of Big Brother: blue overalls, a plain white shirt and worn shoes. On one strap there was a name tag that read, COMRADE OLIVIA.
Ratso whistled.
"The bullets," she started in her deep English accent, "will simply bounce off the door and strike you instead."
Clearly, as a follower of Big Brother, this person was up to no good. So Finn did the sensible thing: he pointed his gun, in case she were to try anything. "Who are *you*?" he said.
The girl smiled. "Can't you read the name tag?"
Finn rolled his eyes. "No kidding."
"Wow," Ratso muttered, eyes wide. "She's a real looker!"
"Shut *up*!" Chow and Finn ordered simultaneously.
Ratso fidgeted in embarrassment. "I was just sayin'..."
Olivia shook her head, smiling. The Enforcers stared in confusion. "You three," she pointed at them, "are really weird."
The Enforcers stared, dumbfounded.
"Right." Olivia shook her head again and cleared her throat. "Anyway...you wanna escape or what?"
The Enforcers stared, dumbfounded. Again.
"Hello?! Anybody home?!" She stood right up to them and waved her hands out before them. When that didn't work, she struck the one who seemed to be the leader, Finn. "Wake up, you!"
"OW!" And Finn's head went flying to the side as he heard the angry yells of his companions. In truth, the attack had taken him by surprise; for someone who looked so small, this girl could certainly hit! "Hey, *watch* it!" he snapped at her, rubbing his injured face. "*I'm* the one with the gun, you know."
"Ahh, indeed you are," Olivia smiled slyly, "but do you really want to kill your only chance of getting out of here?"
Staring, and then glancing at each other, the three considered this. At length Finn, now very suspicious, turned back to her: "How do we know this isn't a trick?"
"I don't think you have a choice."
_True,_ Finn thought to himself bitterly. _Very true._
Olivia was now walking towards the door, brushing past the Enforcers. "So shall we?"
Raising his finger, Finn started, "But that door doesn't have a--"
But Olivia cut him off by her own actions. She put her hand on the wall next to the door, and out it came, pushed back by a metal bar. A keypad emerged from the bit beneath her hand. After replacing her hand, she quickly typed in the password, and in an instant the process reversed and the door slid open. All that remained was the familiar black curtain.
"--handle," Finn finished dryly.
"Now I ask again," she said, holding back the curtain with her arm, that same sly grin on her face, "shall we?"
And the Enforcers, still dumbfounded with their eyes wide and their jaws slacked, could only nod.
~-~-~
*gasp!* Who is this Comrade Olivia? (Not a Mary Sue, I'll tell you that mcuh ^-^) What is her real purpose? Why is she helping the Enforcers? And what will happen to our beloved Jackinator? Stay tuned for part eleven of...The Demon Within! ::Da da duuuuuuum!::
Credits, as usual, go to Kathryn and Olivia.
Oh yeah, glad someone enjoyed the Batman reference. :) But no, he won't make an appearance. You can't have a cameo appearance with Batman, because once Batman gets into it, he doesn't get *out*, if ya know what I mean. ^_~ It's just that right now I can't have a crossover, it's just too late in the story.
Disclaimer: JCA belongs to KWB, Sony Productions, Jackie Chan--but, oh, you *knew* that already! Okay then--"1984" is by George Orwell. Yeah, there's a reference here (the title shoulda been a give-away) - if I made any mistake, please tell me. It's been a year since I read that book, so I don't remember it word-for-word. One more thing...Royal Flush Gang belongs to the Batman genre. Or Batman Beyond. Whichever.
Olivia- this one's for you, darling. ;)
THE DEMON WITHIN
Part Ten: Big Brother is Watching You
-A-
Hours earlier, when the night was still on, most of California was asleep. So no one noticed when out of an alley emerged the dazed man still in his pajamas, led by the abnormal shadow figure, the only sign of light being its seemingly glowing sword. Its unusual brightness had attracted Jackie's eyes several times, and each time he wished for one of his own. Then the thought would disappear only to resurface later on, and the cycle would start over again.
Jackie hardly felt the Shadowkha's cold, dead grip around his own lifeless wrist. His steps felt light, as if he were walking in a dream. Maybe he *was* dreaming. Now there was something to consider. Was it a good dream? Was he enjoying it? Yes, he decided finally. He was. There was nothing to worry about, nothing left to think of. This Shadowkha was holding *his* wrist, was leading *him* -- not the other way around. All he head to do was to trust, to submit, and everything else would be taken care of.
He tasted something sweet and sugary in his mouth: it was candy. What sort of candy, he wondered? He licked his lips. Peppermint? No. Chocolate? No. He didn't like those things as much as he liked... Caramel! That was it! Caramel was his favourite; it had been his favourite ever since he was ten years old and he'd first tasted a caramel apple. It was at some sort of a fair. Who had given it to him, again? Was it...? Well, what did it matter? That was the past, after all, and the past didn't exist. Only now existed, now with the caramel taste in his mouth and the gleam of the Shadowka's sword in his eyes.
Suddenly Jackie realised that they'd stopped, but his passive mind questioned it not. He was only vaguely aware when the door they stood before swung open and the Shadowkha guided him inside to meet someone sitting casually on the dusty couch.
Jackie gazed numbly at the white-haired man's demonic red eyes. The man stood. Jackie felt the Shadowkha's hand let go of his wrist, and his arms dropped limp by his side. He took one step forward. Then another. Baby steps - as if he were a small child only learning how to walk into his parent's arms. Closer and closer he went, until finally he could walk no farther without bumping into the taller man. And the taller man raised his hand and Jackie felt his fingers entangled in his jet-black hair, soft as a summer night breeze, gentle as if caring for something sacred and fragile as an angel. And he trailed his hand through Jackie's hair to the ends until it fell through his fingers and lay down again, and he proceeded down his face, down his forehead, over his eyes so that Jackie had to shut them, down his nose, lips, chin. His touch was so faint it was irresistible, so mysterious it was compelling; it sent shivers mixed with pain and pleasure running up and down Jackie's spine.
Through his closed eyes Jackie could see darkness but also something else, something that gave birth to warmth within him: he saw -- or sensed -- the man smiling. Not that his smile reflected more animosity and corruption and sadism than Jackie could ever fathom -- but simply that he smiled. And Jackie couldn't help but smile back, sweetly.
In his current state Jackie would find the voices of mortals -- whether they be Valmont or Finn, Jade or Uncle -- indistinct. But Shendu was not mortal, so Jackie could understand him perfectly: "Welcome home, Jackie Chan."
***********
A visit to Big Brother was definitely undesirable amongst many who knew of them, the Enforcers included. They had never actually come face-to-face with anyone from this particular crime industry, but living vicariously through rumours was enough.
According to these rumours, Big Brother consisted of some of the most wicked sociopath around the world. Acceptance in this network required absolute commitment to their own "government" called The Party, a Communist- like system that met thinking and individuality with harsh punishment. Members of Big Brother were said to have led vapid, robotic lives, tending to their duties without question -- the result of brainwashing, many suspected.
Aside from the above mentioned, this crime network was particularly creative. Its entire system stemmed from George Orwell's classic novel 1984, a book treated as the Bible amoung the group's members. Copies rested in each member's hands, read and re-read over and again. Although none of the Enforcers had ever read the book (especially Ratso), they each held a similar idea of what it was about.
Purely through English relations had Big Brother become a valuable asset to the Dark Hand and vice versa. But everything had changed, Finn now recalled, in nineteen-ninety when the Dark Hand moved to the United States of America, the promised land that ruled with democracy. At the drop of a hat Valmont had made the number one spot on Big Brother's hit list. This only made the Enforcers' visit yet more undesirable. So, less than enthusiastic at the prospect of getting killed, the Enforcers decided they would claim to be agents of the Royal Flush Gang, a one hundred per cent English organisation that hoped to one day dominate England's constitutional monarchy.
Officially Big Brother resided in London, but like most successful crime organisations it had cells all over the world, one conveniently being in San Francisco despite their obvious hatred toward the U.S. It took them two trains and three buses, but the Enforcers finally arrived at the shabby little deli on Cantebury Street. This time the sign read in bold red print "OPEN," and Finn went first with the other two following.
Finn allowed himself a look around, devoting every aspect of the corner store to memory. To the left was a stack of hostess products, and next to that were two running coffee pots, two containers of milk, packs of sugars and thin straws. On the opposite side was the clerk's counter (the clerk himself was absent), and beneath that were rows of candy. Farther down were the refrigerated beverages and cold cuts. All three of the Enforcers suddenly realised how hungry they were.
_Well, why not?_ Finn thought to himself. After all, they had to wait for the clerk anyway. He guessed his companions thought the same thing, because Ratso started for the cupcakes while Chow tended to the candy. Finn himself went for the chips, and all three fixed themselves coffee.
The Enforcers could hear the doorknob turn, and they looked toward the back of the room just in time to see the door open and the clerk emerge. He was serious-faced man, somewhere in his forties, with glossy hair and tanned skin. His white apron was filthy with various coloured stains, such as ketchup and mustard. This did not go well with his oddly tye-dyed shirt.
He made his way to behind the counter, eyes closely fixed on the Enforcers. The three of them felt him burning holes through them. Chow gulped, Ratso grew stiff, and Finn pretended to cough.
Tentatively Finn edged his way toward the counter and set down his chips and coffee. Although he didn't look up, he knew that the clerk never wavered his gaze as he rang up the cost on the cash register. Under normal circumstances Finn would hold out his gun and demand the clerk's money instead of paying, but decided against it since this was one of the hideouts of a very successful crime organisation. So he held out a ten dollar bill, collected his change and goodies, and stepped aside for Chow and Ratso to follow his example.
Save for the coffee they stuffed all their food into the duffel, which was now handled by Ratso. For a moment they were all still; Chow and Ratso turned to Finn in anticipation, but Finn was still deciding on what next move to make. He cleared his throat and stared down at his white boots, which were bemired along the edges. He scowled; he didn't appreciate sloppy apparel -- particularly *his* apparel. If he were an optimist, he would have realised that at least his bellbottoms were still intact, cuffed neatly over the top of shoes.
"May I help you?" Finn snapped out of his reverie at the sound of the clerk's heavily Arabic accented request. He looked up and blinked slowly at the clerk's skeptical and annoyed facade.
"Uh, yeah," he faltered, shuffling his feet. No, now was *not* a good time to screw up. He'd made that promise to Hak Foo, and he would keep it. Clearing his throat once more he stealthily approached the clerk. He leaned close and whispered the password: "Ingsoc."
The clerk drew away and blinked, nonplused: quite a change from his serious, almost hostile expression moments before. Nevertheless, he resumed his previous attitude with a solid glare as he trudged to the back of the store where he'd recently come from. He paused at the threshold to turn slightly and nod, indicating the Enforcers to follow. The three glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed.
Up the stairs they went, with Finn in the lead and Ratso lagging behind in last place. The stairway was narrow, with bright white-washed walls and no railings; Finn did his best to bury the slight sensation of claustrophobia that threatened to burst within him.
After what seemed to be an eternity they finally reached the second level. The clerk strode onward towards the dark curtains at the end of the short corridor. He disappeared behind them, and after gulping hard, the Enforcers did the same.
For a moment all was dark. Then, suddenly, bright lights switched on from every direction, and the Enforcers shielded their eyes with their arms. What *was* this? Finn suddenly envied Chow for his shades. After blinking hard repeatedly, Finn managed, through squinted eyes, to peer beyond his protective arm. Vaguely he could make out a small bench in the center of the room, but nothing else.
"Sit," a voice commanded, as if on cue. It had the same deepness of the clerk's, but with a strong English accent. Too surprised and dazed to object, the Enforcers wandered over to the bench and sat. "He will be with you shortly."
"Who?" Ratso wondered aloud. But the only reply was the insidious silence.
Suddenly, Finn felt a giant rock of panic drop in his stomach, and he knew this was all a big mistake.
He leaped to his feet and raced over to where the curtains had been moments before. Now he could feel the edges of a door, but with the exception of a handle.
As his trembling hands fell to his side, Finn turned around slowly to face his companions. "You guys," he said in shaky whisper, "we're trapped."
-B-
"Trapped?" Chow jumped on his feet and ran over to Finn. "Trapped? What do you mean by that!--Finn?"
"Calm down," Finn said, noting the cadence of fear in his companion's voice, though his own wasn't much better. He turned away from Chow, whose wide eyes Finn could see hiding behind his orange shades. He didn't want to see those fearful eyes; he was having enough trouble controlling his own panic. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to continue in a subdued voice, but it sounded more angry than anything: "This whole thing, it was a trick. A trick! They're figured it out, they figured out who we are."
"How-how'd they do that?" Ratso asked.
"Well, we ain't English for one!" Chow snapped suddenly. "That should have been a dead give away!"
Ratso blinked. "Oh."
"We gotta get out of here," Finn said aloud. Being able to learn best by hearing, it often helped Finn to think out loud. He now had one idea -- and a rather risky idea at that -- that he did not hesitate to deploy; he could hear Chow's laboured breaths and Ratso's fearful moans.
And so after he took his last bite at his fingernail, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his pistol.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
So startled by the calm, feminine voice that Finn gasped and nearly dropped his gun. Catching it and taking deep breaths, he turned to face their mysterious visitor.
She was a girl of no more than seventeen, short, with a small but round tummy. Tied back in a ponytail were curly locks of ebony, which reached her shoulders. Cobalt eyes stared back at them, bright with mischief. She wore the customary uniform of Big Brother: blue overalls, a plain white shirt and worn shoes. On one strap there was a name tag that read, COMRADE OLIVIA.
Ratso whistled.
"The bullets," she started in her deep English accent, "will simply bounce off the door and strike you instead."
Clearly, as a follower of Big Brother, this person was up to no good. So Finn did the sensible thing: he pointed his gun, in case she were to try anything. "Who are *you*?" he said.
The girl smiled. "Can't you read the name tag?"
Finn rolled his eyes. "No kidding."
"Wow," Ratso muttered, eyes wide. "She's a real looker!"
"Shut *up*!" Chow and Finn ordered simultaneously.
Ratso fidgeted in embarrassment. "I was just sayin'..."
Olivia shook her head, smiling. The Enforcers stared in confusion. "You three," she pointed at them, "are really weird."
The Enforcers stared, dumbfounded.
"Right." Olivia shook her head again and cleared her throat. "Anyway...you wanna escape or what?"
The Enforcers stared, dumbfounded. Again.
"Hello?! Anybody home?!" She stood right up to them and waved her hands out before them. When that didn't work, she struck the one who seemed to be the leader, Finn. "Wake up, you!"
"OW!" And Finn's head went flying to the side as he heard the angry yells of his companions. In truth, the attack had taken him by surprise; for someone who looked so small, this girl could certainly hit! "Hey, *watch* it!" he snapped at her, rubbing his injured face. "*I'm* the one with the gun, you know."
"Ahh, indeed you are," Olivia smiled slyly, "but do you really want to kill your only chance of getting out of here?"
Staring, and then glancing at each other, the three considered this. At length Finn, now very suspicious, turned back to her: "How do we know this isn't a trick?"
"I don't think you have a choice."
_True,_ Finn thought to himself bitterly. _Very true._
Olivia was now walking towards the door, brushing past the Enforcers. "So shall we?"
Raising his finger, Finn started, "But that door doesn't have a--"
But Olivia cut him off by her own actions. She put her hand on the wall next to the door, and out it came, pushed back by a metal bar. A keypad emerged from the bit beneath her hand. After replacing her hand, she quickly typed in the password, and in an instant the process reversed and the door slid open. All that remained was the familiar black curtain.
"--handle," Finn finished dryly.
"Now I ask again," she said, holding back the curtain with her arm, that same sly grin on her face, "shall we?"
And the Enforcers, still dumbfounded with their eyes wide and their jaws slacked, could only nod.
~-~-~
*gasp!* Who is this Comrade Olivia? (Not a Mary Sue, I'll tell you that mcuh ^-^) What is her real purpose? Why is she helping the Enforcers? And what will happen to our beloved Jackinator? Stay tuned for part eleven of...The Demon Within! ::Da da duuuuuuum!::