Yay for me! I'm finally done with my bedroom, painting and everything, and it looks awesome! Now that I'm done with that, you would think that I have more time to write, but I don't. What with school coming and everything, ugh!

Well I won't bore you with my boring AN, I'll get to the story. Just a quick note, updates might not be coming as frequently in the next few weeks, I don't know how much I'm going to have to do or how much time I'll be able to find to write, but I WILL get this story finished!

And that other story that I was writing? I had the first three chapters (at least) written, and then my dad goes and reinstalls windows again (without telling me) and now they're all gone. So I have to restart with that story, which I don't think I'll do until I'm done with this one.

Ok, enough of me....on with the story...

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Under the Radar - chapter four - getaway

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He continued down the road, never once looking back.

The police must have been there by now, and going back meant being questioned.

The throbbing pain in his arm from where he had been stabbed started to ease, but his arm was also going numb.

He pulled into the parking lot of a gas station and wiped as much blood away as he could and walked inside.

Quickly, he grabbed a bottle of vodka, a gauze pad, and an ace bandage.

He paid for the items and hurried to his car, opening the bottle with his teeth on the trip from the building to the vehicle.

Careful not to cause any more pain, he pulled the sleeve of his arm up as far as it would go and poured some of the vodka onto the wound and took a large gulp of the burning liquid, wincing when it hit his arm.

He let it drip for a few seconds before hastily putting the gauze pad on and then continuing to wrap the cloth bandage around it.

He walked to the trunk of his car. He threw the bottle in and grabbed a heavy black trench coat, carefully sliding both of his arms in before hopping back in the front seat and starting the car.

He drove to the next rest stop and pulled up by a row of pay phones.

The only other people there were a few truckers quietly talking in between their trucks and a young woman that appeared to be waiting for somebody.

Nobody was near the phones.

He quickly walked over and picked one up, dialing a number that he knew by heart.

"CIA headquarters." An elderly woman said, the front secretary.

Margret, Chandler smiled. She was a sweet old lady that had worked there for over 40 years. The last time Chandler had been here, he had offered to take her out to lunch and she had shared her entire life story, quite an amazing one it was.

He didn't have time to be nice right now though.

"Upstairs." Chandler replied, knowing fully well that she knew what he meant.

She didn't say anything, all that could be heard was another few rings before any words were said.

"Code in." The computerized voice stated.

"0921."

Another beep and a man's voice came on the line.

"Chandler where--"

"David, my name is David Kleft." Chandler was firm in using the code name he had received during his first day of training back when he was a teenager. The name was sterile and meant that no connections could be traced back to anybody he was related to, or any information about him.

"I'm sorry, yes David, where have you been? You were supposed to be here an hour ago! We have people waiting, you know."

"What the hell is going on?" Chandler yelled, determined to find out why he had almost been killed in his own home less than two hours ago.

"What, David, what are you talking about? I should be asking you that."

"This morning at my house, just as I was leaving, a man broke in and tried to kill, assassinate, me. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that he was late breaking in and couldn't catch me before I got up. Who was he, Pat ?"

"David, I swear, I have no idea who he is! Why would we send somebody after you, you know better than that. We wouldn't send somebody out in--." Pat cut himself off, realizing that he was just digging himself into a hole. "David, I have no knowledge of anything to do with this. Just come down here and we'll get this all sorted out." Pat finished softly.

"Oh no, I'm not coming down there. It could be a trap. Honestly, how stupid do you really think I am? You trained me for christ's sake. Remeber, Pat. Everybody is a suspect. Everybody." With that he hung up the phone and got back in the car, staring at nothing for a few minutes before starting it.

He had to go back, he had to warn them.

Before it was too late.

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Seven hours later and he was back in New York, back home.

He quickly got a cab and headed back to the apartments.

He rushed up the stairs and went to change his clothes before he went off to find everybody else.

Joey was sitting in front of the TV, just as he had expected, and jumped when he opened the door.

"Chandler? What are you doing back so early? I thought you weren't coming back until Sunday night, it's Saturday morning." Joey stood up and shut the TV off.

"I'm aware of that Joe, thanks." Chandler didn't bother answering his questions and hurried into his room before Joey could say anything else.

"What's going on, where are your bags? Why are you so rushed? Why--"

"Joey!" Chandler threw his door open, his chest bare, only a pair of jeans covering his bottom half. "Stop asking so many damn questions!" He threw a t-shirt over his head and walked to wards the bathroom to check on his shoulder wound. "Just, go see where everybody else is and get them over to Monica's apartment, I'll be there in half an hour."

Joey was shocked at Chandler's outburst, he had never heard him yell before, he never even raised his voice when he was mad.

He obediently backed away from Chandler and walked out of the apartment without another word.

Chandler sighed and rested his head on the mirror in front of him, he never meant to yell at Joey, he just couldn't waste anytime, and they all needed to understand this.

He was taking one of the biggest risks in his life, but it was for a good cause.

Yea, a good cause. It's always for a good cause. Chandler thought to himself and laughed, continuing to put a new bandage on his arm before heading back to his room.

He grabbed a clean pair of socks and put a pair of tennis shoes on.

He walked into the kitchen, grabbing two aspirin and swallowing them without water.

He put on a more him navy blue jacket and stuffed his keys in his pocket, he had another phone call to make.

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to be continued....

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I would write more if I had the time, I swear! But I've got to get up really early tomorrow and I don't think you guys want to wait any longer for this chapter. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up sooner and I'll try to make it longer. I know I say that every time, but I'll actually try this time. Only if you review though! Please Review!

Seriously, nine reviews is just sad and it makes me wonder if you guys really do like this story or not.