Several things happened at once.
Eddie watched in horror as the gun was leveled at his old partner's daughter and as though something suddenly snapped inside of him, he realized that he couldn't just stand by passively and let her be killed. As the gunman pulled the trigger, he drew his own weapon and with a mighty yell, took a flying leap at the girl, pushing her out of harm's way even as he squeezed the trigger. The gunman's shot passed harmlessly over their heads, but Eddie's was true, the bullet drilling a neat hole in the center of the gunman's chest, knocking him back against the wall. The gunman slid slowly to the floor, the gun falling from nerveless fingers as he stared in shock at the growing red stain on the front of his shirt seconds before his eye's rolled up into his head and he slumped over.
At the same time, Tony, hearing the shout, whirled around in time to see Eddie draw his gun and fired at the rogue FBI agent, hitting him as he sailed through the air. Eddie hit the floor with a groan, clutching a bloody hand to his right shoulder.
The other gunman started to fire his own weapon at the girl but was hindered as a body crashed into him, pushing his gun up and back as the weapon discharged, drilling a hole in the sliding glass door behind him. Ezra had instantly taken advantage of the distraction and leaped at the remaining thug, sending them both crashing through the weakened panel in a shower of glass. Ezra rolled off the man as soon as they hit the deck outside and vaulted over the railing, the fact that the man he had landed on was unconscious or worse barely registering in the back of his mind. He hit the ground running, sprinting for the tree line thirty yards from the house, intent only on drawing Tony and the other guards away from the house and his friends within.
Tony turned back in time to see the pair crash through the glass. He fired at the two, but missed, and, with a curse, veered around the table in pursuit. He paused in the doorway and seeing the agent running for the trees, let off another shot but missed. "After him!" he yelled to the guard who had been outside as he came running from the direction of the barn. The man changed direction and headed for the trees. Tony stepped through the door and jumped the steps to pick up the chase, ignoring the man lying on the deck in a puddle of blood.
Alex had crashed into the corner of the desk with a thud when Eddie pushed her, but managed to stay aright. She looked up in time to see Tony slip through the door and Eddie land at her feet. She started to stoop down to check on the man, but Randolph's shout of "What the h**l?" caused her to pause. She glanced up to see the two crime lords pushing through the front door and immediately ducked through the kitchen doorway, stooping down slightly as Bartinol let off a wild shot that hit the drywall above her head. She leaped up and slid across the kitchen table, knocking a chair to the floor as she landed on the other side and dove toward the laundry room without missing a beat. She stumbled down the short set of stairs just inside the room and hit the concrete floor painfully, but was up in an instant, slamming the door closed and jamming the board from the shelf above the washer under the handle before ducking out the door leading into the garage. She weaved through the clutter of car parts, tools, and other assorted machinery to the side entrance, slipping through to the outside and sprinting for the trees.
"D**n-it!" Randolph shouted as he made it to the kitchen doorway in time to see the laundry room door slam shut. He skirted the table and tried the handle, hitting the wood with his shoulder when the door refused to budge.
"Leave it!" Bartinol commanded when he saw that the barrier wasn't going to give. He jogged back into the living room. "This way!"
Randolph hit the door one last time in anger before turning to follow him back out the front, stepping over Buck's body on his way outside without a second glance at the fallen man.
* * * * * * *
Buck came to with a groan at the sound of the front door slamming closed, his head pounding and his stomach churning.
He started to roll over but an intense wave of pain pointed out the foolishness of that act and he stopped on his side, his head lying against the cool floor. His breath came in pants as he tried to figure out what was going on. He cracked one eye opened and peered blearily out across the wood floor.
Chris's ranch he realized. A case. Ezra and a girl—what was her name?—were in trouble. Chris and the others left for a bust, I stayed behind for protection. Heard something, went to see what it was—
A distant shot sounded outside and his eyes widened. He reached a shaky hand up to his head and winced as he touched the gash on the side of his head. "Oh h**l," he groaned, realizing what had happened and who had shot him.
He rolled
onto his stomach and paused a moment, waiting for the world to stop gyrating
before he pushed down on the floor with his hands and managed to lift his body
onto his hands and knees. He noticed his
gun lying just under the edge of the couch and reached down to pick it up
before grabbing onto the back of the seat and pulling himself to his feet. He waited a few more seconds before lifting
his head to scan the room.
That was when he noticed Eddie lying in the dining room doorway.
He stumbled over to the body and ungracefully dropped to his knees beside the man, reaching out to check for breathing. Realizing that the man was still alive, he looked around for something to use as a compress. Not finding anything within immediate reach, he pulled himself back up using the door facing as a support and headed for the kitchen. Though he was seeing double sets of stars, he was able to find the dish towel hanging on the handle of the stove and jerked it off as he turned to go back to the fallen man. Another distant shot caused him to pause and glance to the kitchen window in apprehension.
He was torn between wanting to go out and help Ezra and trying to save the life of the man in the dining room, but a low groan from the other room made the decision for him. With a curse, he turned from the window, towel in hand. He spied the cordless phone lying on the counter and grabbed it up as he pushed back into the dining room and dropped beside the fallen agent. The fog was slowly lifting from his brain, allowing him to gather his thoughts and form a plan of action. He quickly dialed the familiar number then balanced the phone on his shoulder as he reached down and pressed the towel against Eddie's shoulder firmly, eliciting another moan from the man.
Back in the Ram, Vin grabbed for the buzzing cell phone on the seat beside him and quickly punched the talk button. "Yeah?"
"Vin?" Buck asked, glancing up toward the broken door and the tree line beyond as another gunshot echoed across the valley.
"Buck?" Vin asked, glancing up to meet Chris's eye. He took note of the glint of relief that flashed through the older man's features before punching the speaker phone button.
"Are you all right?" Chris demanded.
"Yeah. Nothing more than a little knock to the head." Buck answered. He shifted his stance a little as the man underneath his hands groaned again and moved his leg, slowly coming to life. "It's all right," Buck soothed. "Stay calm. Everything's going to be alright."
"What's going on?" Vin's question brought his attention back to the phone.
"Randolph and Bartinol are here. Eddie's been shot, and I can see one man laying on the floor and another laying on the deck outside, but no one else is in the house," Buck peered through the glass to the body. "Eddie's still breathing and the one on the floor looks dead, but I can't tell from here if the other guy's alive or not. We could use a little help right about now, Pard," he commented through gritted teeth.
Chris gripped the steering wheel tightly as he pushed on the gas even harder, trying to squeeze more speed out of the huge vehicle. "We're on our way. We'll be there in five minutes." He looked over to where Vin was talking to JD on the radio. Vin held up his hand and flashed all five fingers twice. "The rest of the cavalry are about ten minutes behind us. Do you know if Ezra's alright?" he asked tersely.
"Don't know. I don't know what happened. I was out for a little while. I keep hearing shots in the distance. I'm assuming that means he's still moving, at least." I hope he thought silently, mentally crossing his fingers.
The exit for the interstate loomed ahead of them suddenly and Chris steered onto the ramp with a squeal of tires. He cut across to the fast lane in front of an eighteen wheeler, ignoring the blast of the air horn as he flicked his siren on while Vin reached into the glove box and set the light on the dash board. A wail in the distance caught Vin's attention and he glanced in the rearview mirror to see a state trooper careening up the highway a few hundred yards behind them. "Chris," he said to get the other man's attention.
Chris glanced over at his friend at the one word, and Vin jerked his head toward the back with a small smile. Chris looked in the rearview mirror and saw six patrol cars turning the curve behind them. "Hold on, Buck. Help's coming," he muttered as he turned his attention back to the road.
Buck adjusted the phone against his shoulder and tried to get more pressure on the wound beneath his hands. "I'll do what I can, Pard. Just get here." The phone started to slip and he reached up to grab it. "Listen, I've got my hands a little full right now. I'm going to have to get off the line."
"Okay. See ya soon." Vin punched the talk button and gripped the arm rest tighter as the next exit came into sight. Thirty seconds later, Chris was recklessly shooting down the ramp and onto the little highway that twisted up into the mountains where his ranch lay without even slowing down or looking into the mirrors to see if anyone was coming. All he cared about at the moment was getting to the ranch in time to keep from losing another person close to him. Please, he begged silently, let us get there in time.
The large black truck practically flew down the road in response, almost as if it could feel their urgency.
Buck let the phone clatter to the floor as he turned his attention to stopping anymore blood from escaping the man beneath him. Another couple of shots resounded and he looked up through the glass door in trepidation. He suddenly felt a weak grip on his arm and looked down into the pain-filled eyes of the rogue agent. "I-I c-couldn't let them k-kill her," the man gasped, writhing under the agony he was in.
"Shhh now," Buck soothed. "Just stay calm. You're gonna be alright."
Eddie's hand dropped back to the floor and he swallowed once before looking back up at the blurry features of the man leaning over him. "D-done enough to hurt her. H-had to end it h-here."
"I know, Pard, I know," Buck agreed, but the agent had passed out again.
One lone shot echoed across the valley, and Buck looked out the door toward the trees once again, fear clenching at his gut. The finality of the single discharge seemed to indicate that something had finished, but who was the victor?
* * * * * * *
Ezra ran flat out, weaving in and out of the trees as he tried desperately to gain ground over his pursuers. A bullet struck the tree beside him a split second after the sound of the shot, and he ducked to the side to avoid the shower of bark and splinters. Up ahead, he could hear the sound of the small creek that ran through Larabee's property, and he tried to form a picture in his mind of the layout of the land around him. Truth was, he could count on one hand the number of times he had been out to Larabee's ranch, and most of those had been in the house. The one time that he had ventured out into the wilds, as he had described it at the time, he had been in the company of Vin Tanner. They had spent a Saturday afternoon roaming the open fields, Vin on his big black and Ezra on the back of one of the horses that Chris boarded. While he had found the afternoon surprisingly enjoyable, they had covered a lot of ground, and he had left the navigation up to the tracker, being as he was no woodsman by any stretch of the imagination. As he raced down the muddy path, he found himself wishing he had paid closer attention to his surroundings during the ride.
The path turned a corner to run parallel to the water course. The creek bank lay five feet to his left and another six feet or so down, while the tree-studded slope rose steeply to his right. He glanced up the slope and noticed the stark-white shell of a lightening struck trunk rising above the other trees at the top of the rise—and a memory niggled at the back of his mind. He picked up his speed, scanning the hillside as he ran, searching for a particular object, and finally veering suddenly off the path when he found it. He quickly scrambled up the slippery slope, heedless of the mud that now caked his shoes and the lower half of his pants as he slid to his knees behind the large rock that hung over the path. He dug around in the soggy soil beside him with his hands, working to unearth one of the smaller stones before hunkering down in his hiding place, trying to catch his breath and get a glimpse of his pursuers. He strained to hear something, but the roar of the choked stream below drowned out all other sound.
Finally, the gunman came into view, his gun cocked and ready as he slowly picked his way down the path, searching for a sign of his prey. Ezra frowned when he saw that the man was alone—where had Vitalis gone? He had no time to wonder as he flattened himself alongside the rock and squeezed his natural weapon tightly, waiting for the gunman to come closer, to get into position—
With a rebel yell, Ezra launched himself off the rock and crashed into the gunman, knocking them both to the ground. The thug dropped the pistol as he hit the mud, sending it skittered off down the path. The man made it to his feet first, but Ezra swiveled his body around and swept the man's feet out from underneath him. They both came up together and squared off, Ezra with his rock, and the gunman with a large, knobby branch that he had found. The man raised the branch over his head and came at the agent with a yell, but Ezra ducked, allowing the weapon to pass over his head and crash into the tree behind him. He dove forward, wrapping his arms around the man's waist and again slamming him to the ground. They rolled down the path, getting dangerously close to the bank's edge before crashing into another rock jutting up out of the bank. The thug kicked free of his assailant and flung a handful of mud up into his face before scrambling to his feet to attack again.
Ezra was frantically clawing at his face, trying to clear his eyes, when the other man hit him, sending them both down with a painful thud. The thug whipped the branch around and gripped it on either side of Ezra's throat, intending to choke him to death with it. Ezra grasped one-handed at the branch, trying to shove his fingers between the wood and his throat, struggling against his assailant to break free, but the gunman just adjusted his stance to each move his victim made, strengthening his grip as he slowly suffocated the life out of the agent. As the precious air was squeezed from his lungs, Ezra let go of the branch in one final act of desperation and viciously jabbed his elbow backwards into the gunman's stomach. The gunman bent forward from the blow, but didn't let go, so Ezra followed that move by quickly hooking his foot behind the man's left heel and jerking forward. They both tumbled backwards with a crash, the gunman letting go of the branch on his way down. Ezra landed on top of the man and slammed his head back onto the thug's face, breaking the man's nose in the process before rolling off of him.
The gunman howled with pain, his hands automatically flying to his face. He came to his knees with a mighty roar, ready to beat the smaller man before him to a bloody pulp—but Ezra was quicker. He rolled to his knees one beat ahead of the other man, and swung his fist—the one encasing the rock—as hard as he could, slamming it into the side of the gunman's head. The man toppled to the ground with a small cry, landing beside the agent and laying still. Breathing hard, Ezra bent over the fallen man to check for life, holding the bloody rock tightly in case of a surprise attack, but the man was truly down for the count. The undercover agent let the rock drop to the ground as he sat back with closed eyes, rubbing at his throat, trying to ease his breathing and erase the feel of the branch pressing into his skin. He struggled to his feet a moment later and used the unconscious man's own belt to bind him securely before digging through his pockets for more ammunition. He frowned when he only found one clip, but shoved it into his pants pocket anyway as he bent over to pick up the pistol. He glanced around before climbing up the slope in search of Vitalis.
He jogged cross country, heading back in the general direction of the ranch, grimacing as he realized just how far he had gone from the house. All was silent from that direction, and he hoped Alex and Buck were alright.
A few minutes later, he found himself on the edge of a small open meadow. He paused beside a tree and searched the dense woodland across the open field intently, trying to catch of glimpse of any danger, when a shot sounded alarmingly nearby. He dropped to the ground a split second before a bullet clipped the tree trunk right where his head had just been. He glanced up to catch a glimpse of movement in the trees on the other side of the field before he rolled into a crouch and scuttled deeper into the cover of the forest. He cautiously worked his way through the trees, heading for the general area that he had last seen his enemy.
A flash of color to his left caught his attention and he snapped off a shot in that direction as he dove to the right behind the cover of a small bush. A shot was fired in return, proving that he had missed his target. He moved down the slope, trying to circle around his enemy, straining to hear anything that would reveal the man's location. Where is Mr. Tanner when you need him? he wondered grimly to himself.
Just as he stepped out from behind a large oak, a bullet struck the tree, and he jerked himself backwards with a grunt. He pressed his back up against the trunk and flinched as two more shots peppered the foliage around him. He counted to three then swung out from behind his cover, firing three shots in the opposite direction before flinging himself down behind a fallen log to his right. Vitalis answered by sending two shots into the decaying mass.
Ezra rolled across the hill a little ways, bullets thunking into the ground behind him, before he came back to his feet, firing at his enemy, and dove behind a rock. He wound his way around the huge stone and paused for a moment, scanning the hillside behind him while trying to catch his breath. He quickly ejected the empty clip onto the ground and slammed the full one into place before glancing back up the slope for signs of his opponent. He grimaced as he realized that by being at the bottom of the small gully, he was at a distinct disadvantage.
Knowing that he had to move, he scanned the gully floor, looking for the next piece of cover. He glanced back up the hillside, and then, with a long slow exhale, he pushed away from the rock and leaped toward the root base of the huge, toppled tree several yards away, firing up the slope as he ran. Bullets zinged around him, but miraculously, he made it to the tree unscathed. He peered over the tree to see movement up the hill and fired several shots at Vitalis as the man moved to a parallel location further up the slope.
Their deadly game of cat and mouse continued for several minutes, with each pacing the other down the length of the gully, moving from cover to cover while taking potshots at each other, but finally the inevitable happened. Ezra slid into place over a small knoll into a tightly knit grove of pine trees ahead of a hail of bullets. He checked the clip in his gun and cursed when he found that he had only one shot left. He glanced back up the hill, but knew that Tony was in too good of a position. There was no way to work his way up the hill without having firepower to pin the man down. Ezra glanced around his protection, hoping for something to reveal itself, when he noticed the small sapling growing just to the left of the entrance. The grove was a good place of concealment, with the only easy access point being across the small knoll that he had just dove over. A wild idea hatched in the back of his brain, and he glanced from the tree to the hillside location of Vitalis back to the tree before grinning to himself.
It was a crazy idea, but it might just work.
Besides, what did he have to lose?
* * * * * *
Vitalis hunkered down beside the maple tree, his eyes on the pine grove below him. He had Standish cornered, and he knew it. It was just a matter of time before he would be able to move in and finish him off. He grinned maliciously to himself.
Of course, no one said that Standish had to die quickly.
He had a personal score to settle with the agent who had made him look like a fool in the eyes of his employer, and Tony had every intention of making the man pay, and pay dearly.
He caught sight of movement at the edge of the small bank and frowned slightly to himself. What's he up to? he wondered.
"Vitalis!"
The sound of his name echoed through the woods, and Tony couldn't help but flinch at the unexpected sound. He frowned in confusion. What did that slippery snake think he was doing?
"Hey, Vitalis! I'm talking to you!"
"What do you want!" Tony finally yelled back.
"I have a proposition for you!"
Tony shook his head. "Like the one you offered my boss back in the hangar? I know better than that, Standish! No deal!" he answered brusquely.
"No, this is an offer of a different nature."
Tony considered the idea for a moment, then shrugged. The man would be dead soon. Why not hear him out? "I'm listening," he called out as he scanned the cove again, trying to see his prey.
"Have you ever read much of the history of the American western frontier?" came the answer.
"What?"
Now Tony was really confused. What did
history have to do with this situation?
"I must admit, I have found myself rather fascinated by the whole subject. Roaming cowboys, fast women, gentleman gamblers, infamous outlaws—the entire era has always been something of a romantic fancy of mine—a bit barbaric and crude, perhaps, but refreshing on the whole. I do believe I would have rather enjoyed the life of the wondering gambler—no strings, no attachments, no reason to rise at the crack of dawn. It would be a rather easy life, wouldn't it?"
"Get on with it!" Tony growled.
"Yes, well, I'm sure that even someone as illiterate as yourself would know the traditional manner of settling disputes in those days," Standish called back.
"What are you talking about?" Now Tony was really confused. What was this fool up to?
"Duals, my man! Up until modern times, the acceptable method of settling a disagreed was upon the field of honor! Of course, a southern gentlemen such as myself would prefer it to be performed in a much more refined manner with dualing pistols or swords, seconds, and the entire paraphernalia required for such an act, but seeing as how this is the wild west and not the grand old South, I suppose the deed should be completed in a much more appropriate style, no matter how uncouth it may be."
"What the h**l are you ranting about?" Tony yelled back in frustration and bewilderment.
"Shootouts! Surely you know what that is? Two men facing off in the dust of the street, high noon, the O.K. Corral?" Standish's answer had a decidedly annoyed tone to it. "It was the epitome of the wild west, dear sir, right along with the cowboys and Indians!"
"Y-you're wanting to have a shootout?" Tony couldn't help but chortle at the thought. "You're kidding, right?"
"I'm quite serious. Consider it a last request, of sorts. I'm enough of a realist to know that I cannot continue in our little game for much longer. I'm afraid I'm at a distinct disadvantage and have no hope of competing against you in this arena. And if I'm to die, I'd much prefer it to be in a blaze of glory."
Tony shook his head. Standish was truly insane. "You missed your chance at the blaze of glory thing. If you wanted that, you should have stayed in the hangar."
"Yes, well that was not the 'blaze' that I had in mind."
Tony snorted. "Why would I want to do that? It'd be easier to just wait you out up here."
"Ah, but surely you realize that Mr. Larabee is on his way. The longer this game continues the greater the chance of his arrival in time to come to my aid. I do believe that at that point, you yourself would be quite outnumbered. And at the very least, this method would prove to be entertaining."
Vitalis rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The man had a point. Larabee was probably on his way here now. The longer this went on, the greater the chances of getting captured. And he knew he could take the man. Besides, he had always dreamed as a boy of riding with Joaquin Murrieta or the James gang. It could prove to be fun—different at least.
And who said he had to play fair?
"Alright, Standish," he called out casually as he discarded the empty clip from his gun. "I'll give you your shootout."
In the grove of trees, Ezra leaned back against the bank and closed his eyes in relief. He wasn't sure if the man would go for it. "Thank you, Sir," he called out. "On the count of three, we both are to stand up and fire at one another. Agreed?"
Tony slammed the fresh clip home with a snap and grinned to himself.
If the fool wanted to make it this easy, he'd oblige him.
"Alright. On three. One!" he positioned himself more securely behind the tree, making sure that he was concealed from the pine grove.
"Two!" He took careful aim at the entrance to the thicket, where he knew Standish would rise.
Ezra closed his eyes and licked his lips. This is what he wanted. Vitalis had fallen for it. Now was the time to spring the trap. He tensed, ready to jump up, all the while praying that he had calculated this all right.
"Three!"
Tony watched as his prey suddenly showed himself with a wild yell, firing his weapon up the hill. The bullet struck the tree that Tony was concealed behind, and the gunman smiled evilly to himself as he took careful aim at the man below. He let out a string of shots and watched in satisfaction as the body jerked backwards and toppled out of sight.
He waited a few moments for any sign of movement, but seeing nothing, he slowly stood up and made his way down the bank. He paused at the entrance to the grove, peering into the dark interior, looking for any sign of a trap, but all he could see was the still form lying awkwardly on the bed of pine needles. He slowly stepped into the grove, keeping his eyes on the body.
Something wasn't right.
Wait a
minute—where was the blood?
He straightened and pulled the gun up, aiming square at the man's chest—when suddenly, he was attacked by something to the left!
Ezra lay on the ground, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he listened to the footsteps of his opponent drawing closer. He surreptitiously gripped the end of the shoe lace in his hand tighter, willing the other man to step into the right location. He looked up through slitted eyes as the light was blocked by a large form standing in the entrance.
Closer……..Closer……..There!
Ezra let the string go with a snap and watched as it whizzed around the trunk of the larger tree and released the little sapling that it was holding back against the ground. With a whoosh! the small tree snapped forward, coming at Vitalis from the side. Just as he had hoped, Tony whirled around to face this side attack, giving him a one-time shot which Ezra took full advantage of. He launched himself at the other man.
At the same time that Tony realized he was shooting at a tree, he felt the full weight of the agent slam into his back, and they hit the floor of the grove with a muffled grunt. Tony dropped the gun. He pushed the other man off of him, and they rolled to their feet with the gun caught between them. Tony dropped into a crouch and smiled in approval at his enemy. "Smart, Standish," he applauded. "Real smart. I guess you earned your reputation justly."
Ezra dropped into his own crouch and slowly began circling around the gun and his opponent. "I suppose," he shrugged.
"You know, you got me by surprise back there in the hangar, with that side kick," Tony continued conversationally. "But this time, I'm ready for you."
"Do tell," Ezra answered coolly.
"Those pretty-boy prep-school moves aren't going to help you now. I've got some moves of my own, and I didn't learn them in no fancy studio with no fancy sensei," Tony remarked. "I learned my skills the hard way—on the streets. It was kill or be killed, and I was determined I was going to be the winner."
"And here you are," Ezra smirked.
"Exactly," Tony smiled. "I'm going to tear you apart."
Ezra shrugged, offering the man the most smug, infuriating grin in his repertoire—the same grin that was guaranteed to send Larabee over the edge every time. "Then quit expounding on it and get on with the show," he taunted.
Tony's eyes narrowed, and with a low growl, he lunged at the smaller man. Ezra sprung at the same time and they met in the middle of the grove in a flurry of kicks and punches, the only sound that of fist and foot against skin and the grunts of the two combatants. They broke apart a minute later, breathing heavily and eyeing each other warily with more caution. Viatlis wiped at the blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. "Good," he nodded decisively. "You're pretty good, city boy."
Ezra didn't answer, wiping at his bloody nose instead as he kept a steady gaze on the man before him.
Tony rubbed his fingers on his pants before tensing for another spring. "But I'm better!" he yelled, kicking out at the other man.
Ezra saw it coming and twisted out of the way, swinging his elbow around to slam it in the small of Tony's back. His only answer was a grunt as the man fell to the ground. As soon as Tony landed, though, he pivoted on his hands and swept his legs around, knocking Ezra off of his feet. Ezra quickly rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a vicious kick to his ribs, letting it instead glance off his hip. They battled fiercely for several minutes, with Ezra holding his own despite the bruises he had sustained from the beating at the house and his battle at the creek, and Vitalis growing angrier by the minute. Both combatants were well versed in their art, and both were becoming thoroughly exhausted as the battle stretched out.
Suddenly, Vitalis decided to stack the deck—and pulled out his wicked-looking switchblade, coming at Ezra with a series of blazingly fast slices. It was all Ezra could do to avoid a serious injury, and he did incur a few superficial cuts on his arms and chest. He fought desperately to fend the other man off, searching for a chance to turn the tables back into his favor.
Then the inevitable happened, and Tony got in a lucky cut on Ezra's leg, causing it to buckle and sending Ezra crashing to the ground painfully. Tony stood back, watching in dark satisfaction as his opponent struggled to his knees, clutching at the copiously bleeding wound. "Well, Standish," he said with a grin, "this has been fun, but now it's time to end this." He flipped the knife around in his hand, blade down. "See you in h**l, agent," he sneered; then, with a mighty yell, he rushed at the smaller man, his arm raised, a hint of bloodlust glinting madly in his eyes.
Ezra looked up in time to see blade plunging directly toward his chest!
______________________________________________________________________________________
Yep, just when your heart has finally settled down from the last cliff hanger, I end with another one **grins evilly** I can't help myself! They're so fun to write!
I know, you can't believe how fast I'm updating this now. Actually, if things go well, I should be able to finish the rest this week and post the completed story by Friday. So check back soon for the final 2 chapters!
And, if I haven't said it enough, I have a huge THANK YOU for all those who have taken the time to submit reviews for this, and I'm so glad you like it! I hope I can wrap it all up well for you.
Concerning the blanked words:
I honestly struggled with that for a while in this, and went back and changed them several times. I know people cuss in real life (I've been guilty of a word or two in certain rare situations, to my chagrin), and I've had some tell me that they don't automatically assume that the author talks that way just because she writes them in. I know it won't make me a bad person and I know it's fiction; however, I finally came to the decision to blank them out because that was the way I felt most comfortable with. For one thing, I realized that I'd be highly embarrassed if certain people read the story with the cuss words written in, and I would have felt a bit ashamed because of it—for example: I'd have never wanted my mother to read it that way—if I ever decide to let her read it. I'm still thinking on that one. Right now, she doesn't even know I've written it. As for lord and hell, well, I was raised in a family where you don't use any reference to God as a swear word and it's part of my personal convictions not to. Hell's not too bad, either, in my opinion, but again, it goes back to would I want certain people that I respect thinking that I talked that way? And besides, I don't like hearing the words myself, nor reading them, especially when there's as many in a story as wound up in this fic.
As for it being better to leave them out than blank them, well, I don't feel that the boys would have reacted to the situations without a few choice words, and for me, they wouldn't have felt as smooth and in character as they do now. I've seen stories that had them using mild forms such as darn, and no offense to those writers, but that was a bit off to me. I agree that I probably should have just left them out, but that's how this fic flowed and I just don't think it would feel right to change it all now. Future fics won't have as much language (hopefully!)
So, to appease my conscience but at the same time, to keep the guys as men and in character as this particular story dictated, I compromised and blanked the words. I realize that it can be jarring, and I apologize, but that's the method that works best for me. If I were submitting this for publication, of course I would write them in or remove them completely, but as it is an amateur attempt at fan fiction, where things are a bit more relaxed, I have opted to do it this way. I have read others stories that do the same and it didn't really bother me too bad. I know that we all know what the words are, but like I said, it was a question of morals for me. I do thank you for mentioning it, and I have honestly considered your suggestion, but I think that it will stand as I have it now. I'm sorry if that makes it more difficult for you as a reader.
I do hope you can still enjoy the story, though!
