Redemption Moon : Dedicated to Tonig and Allis who have added me to their Author Alert list. Okay okay, it may not be Favorite Authors but I'm happy all the same. And to Maki, a new reader ! Say hello to Maki everyone ! waves
Chapter 11 : Attempt
Three goddamned weeks ! He'd been living in this extravagant hellhole for three interminable weeks and there was no sign that he was going to see Schuldich anytime soon... not that he knew Schuldich's address or even his number if ever he was given a chance to contact him anyway. If he had then he'd have found him a long time ago.
No one seemed to be guarding the mansion's numerous antique telephones it seemed. They couldn't seem to care less who used those mystical appliances.
He couldn't wait to bail the hell out.
Sure he had gotten used to the everyday routine up to the point that he'd wake up at 4:00 every morning to get ready for the day ahead. He had even gotten used to not doing anything else but stand and stare at long periods at a time with nothing to amuse himself with but to listen to conversations and try to silently participate with them in his imagination.
Hot damn, he'd even gotten used to the cold shoulders pushed past him and the constant and never-ending taunts and threats from ever-jealous servants.
But one thing he still hadn't gotten used to was not seeing Schuldich. He wanted to see that smirking-laughing face and laugh along with him as they watched a game. He missed making fun of movies and throwing popcorn at the tube. Hell, he even missed the constant teasing and arguing they had over every tiny thing.
And tonight he was going to right that.
All those past nights spent in his albeit extravagantly great room (which, by the way, looked like it was especially furnished for him) alone, he pondered on a battle plan on how to escape and he'd spent days observing the layout of the property, and the way guards patrolled the area.
Finally he came up with the perfect plan. Or, at least a plan that gave him a fifty-fifty percent chance of escape – if he was optimistic. Realistically, it was about a twenty-eighty chance ... not – in his favor.
He was going to sneak past the night patrols with his sheer ability and agility. All the dogs loved him because he spent almost all of his free time (if he had any at all) playing with them, so he needn't worry about them thinking that he was an intruder and barking their heads off – or taking his head off. The only problem was that when they recognized him they'd probably drag their handlers to him to be petted and he couldn't have that. Then there were the guards with the automatic rifles and some of them were equipped with night-vision goggles, and other high-tech gadgets bound to make any techno freak floor his own jaw in wonder.
With all that in mind, you have to wonder what kind of paranoia gripped Crawford to put such security around him, or ... maybe the right question to ask is – what kind of enemies did he have ?
But somehow, and despite all that, he was confident that he'd get past the ground patrol, get past the first and secondary border with their tens of sentries and guard dogs and spotlights and perimeter fences and up the last boundary to freedom. He was confident of everything, after all, he hadn't been living in the streets for something close to a decade for nothing.
Dangerous but simple. He knew there were many ifs in the story but it was his only way out. And he'd rather die trying than not try at all.
Impatiently, he had waited for the day to end and was unusually nervous that night as he went up to his room.
He felt like a goddamned pansy damnit.
He selected a soft black shirt that was almost skin tight to avoid snagging on protruding nails or anything and a pair of black jeans.
The thing he noticed with his wardrobe was that everything was black, even the several pairs of sneakers that they provided. He supposed that it was a good thing. At least he wouldn't have to worry about being to visible. He smiled wryly.
Maybe they meant to compare him with 'Master' Crawford (he gagged at the name) who was always wearing white.
The Black Sheep and the White Wolf. He thought to himself.
He found that vaguely amusing.
Now he was just wasting his time in his room, waiting for the right moment to spring into action, musing over things.
Sure he wasn't treated too shabbily. Compared to the snide and cruel servants who never seemed to get enough of abusing him when their Master Crawford wasn't looking, Crawford was the god of kindness – not because he was but because he didn't seem to notice Ken's presence and that was a good thing compared to the inhumane treatment he'd been getting from the others with the exception of Farfarello who was a man after his master's attitude. Cold – like TV dinners or frozen turkey.
He struggled with his disdain for the man who had ordered his kidnapping – and his admiration for that very same man.
Crawford was definitely as tough as nails. He never physically hurt anyone – but he didn't have to. His attitude and his bearing was enough to make anyone back down a hundred feet underground ... and Ken liked that.
But even then, or maybe, because of that he didn't want to stay at the Crawford mansion even a week longer. He was just too pissed with everyone else (with the exception of Farfarello that is, whom he somehow felt some kind of ... well ... weird affection from – if that was to be called affection that is. At least he talked to him – in a way ... in three or more syllables at a time which was more than the white-haired Irishman ever said to anyone else save of course his employer). And the fact that he might actually turn out to admire the Corporate Chairman even more. And that, of all things, was the most repulsive and sordid thing of all.
Anyway, he might just lose control over himself and beat all the servants to a pulp and he knew that no one, especially Mr. Crawford, was going to take too kindly to that.
He felt like his insides were being torn apart every time he saw someone dressed in those clean neat clothes and their haughty faces. It was an instinct he'd developed, he supposed.
I'd like to teach those pompous bastards a lesson or two. He thought snidely as he glanced once more at the overhead clock which read 12:06.
Everyone was probably asleep by then – well, probably Crawford was still awake, making vampiric homage to the god of the underworld or something.
But that wasn't Ken Hidaka's problem any longer.
In a few minutes, he'll be coasting on the road to freedom and find Schuldich ... assuming he'd find where he lived that is.
One thing he knew about himself was that he got a really screwed-up radar. He couldn't exactly tell North from South or what to do the moment he scaled the other side of the wall ... but then again, he'd worry about that later.
He grabbed the black coat he had tossed over a chair, and made his way out of his room, glad that the hallways were carpeted to muffle his footsteps.
He had mastered the way to the servants' door which led to the 'backyard' if you could call it that. And he'd just have to hightail his way to the less guarded area of the estate, the west corner.
Oh yes, you could say that he had a knack for observation.
He could almost taste freedom on his lips as he ran his tongue over them while making his way in the dark in a half-crouched run.
"So far so good." He muttered softly to himself as he sighted the wall he was supposed to scale.
He could glimpse the top of the wall amidst the shroud of greenery. This was the part where the trees were almost against it and it would be easy for him to climb. Also, there was a lot of shade there and if anyone happened to pass by, he would be virtually invisible behind a trunk or atop a branch.
He made his way cautiously, almost cursing the muffled shifting of the grass under his feet.
Every rustle sounded like the railing of a machine gun to him and he could feel his heart racing and his adrenaline pumping.
Within a few short hours ... maybe even minutes, he'd be back with Schuldich and that was something for him to look forward to.
Just a few more steps and he was out of there. He reached for the nearest branch and started to hoist himself up, he felt the fissures on the tree bark under his palm and fingers and felt an army of ants marching past and over his hand...
He froze when he heard a cacophony, crackling of brittle leaves in the air ...
His instinct rattled a deafening alarm. And adrenaline pumped in his veins even as he paused to gather more information about the situation he was in.
... only there was no breeze.
Nothing to cause them to move naturally besides contact.
Slowly, he turned his dilated eyes behind him, realizing or perhaps, just making sure for the first time that he was not alone.
He was surrounded by at least half a dozen men in patrol unit uniform. Thick black boots, suits, vests, gloves and berets, armed with automatic weapons and stun guns. They were armed enough to kick the crap out of a small platoon.
The same thing he had counted on to hide him from patrolling units was the same thing that hid them from his unsuspecting view.
The trees betrayed him, them and the shadows they guarded,
How did they find out ? How did they know that I was going tonight ?
The answers eluded him. But it didn't matter. He was going to get of there. There was no way that anyone could catch him in time before he jumps over that wall. He had the tree-climbing agility of an Amazon monkey.
He calculated the perfect moment as they were closing in on him. He didn't think that they'd shoot him ... they wouldn't ... would they ?
Hell, that didn't fucking matter now.
In a burst of speed, he climbed up from branch to branch with a speed that surprised even him.
He was almost at the top of the fifteen-foot wall.
" Stop, Ken."
His right hand faltered.
He knew that voice.
That voice was Brad Crawford's. And it took him a moment to realize that the man called him by his first name.
Ken.
He turned once more and met the cold cobalt eyes of the man standing several feet below him.
He looked so calm and placid down there amidst the men in black, Farfarello at his side, ever present and staring up with his single gold eye. With the shifting shades and shadows, the taller man almost looked like a movie villain, ready to fly up and snatch the unsuspecting victim.
His fingers found a handgrip and he hoisted himself up, his sneaker finding sure footing on a slender branch he had just moved up on.
He wasn't about to stop for anyone.
Certainly not for Brad Crawford.
" I said stop, Ken. You're gambling with your life." The voice was a chilly and as threatening as ever. But Ken didn't really care.
It didn't matter that they'd probably shoot him with their submachine guns. He felt like a gambling man at that moment.
He had to tiptoe to reach the next branch, and before he knew it, he was slipping on some dead bark, the tree felt like shedding its skin right at that damned moment.
He heard the synchronized cocking of hand-held weapons below him and there were now only two possibilities. One, that his body would hit ground and snap in two like a twig, cracking every single bone worth breaking ... or two, that in mid-air, the 'soldiers' would feel like having fun and test their guns on him and cause his riddled body to bounce like a rag doll.
Either way, he'd be dead meat. Figuratively and literally.
He felt himself falling, the air was pawing at his skin, his hair, his clothes ... only managing to swallow a gasp.
Luckily, his sore hand managed to find something to hang onto and he continued upward with more gusto, ignoring the pain shooting through his arm in which he seemed to have pulled a tendon or two, never taking time to think why the hell no one was shooting several rounds into him.
Goddamnit, just one more. I'm almost there. The summit was almost in his reach. The edge looked so gloriously close.
He strained, feeling several pairs of eyes watching his progress and yet doing nothing about it.
He heard rustling from below but didn't look down. Not when he was so near.
He heard a spit. A muffled one. He wouldn't have heard it if his sense of hearing wasn't as keen as it was.
And then felt a sting on his neck. The sort of sting you'd feel when a fire ant bites.
Suddenly his world was spinning crazily on its axle; twirling around like a mad whirligig.
He expected to feel the rushing ground impacting his body soon ... and he tensed. His body assuming an instinctive fetal position for limbs to protect vital organs from being damaged too much.
But that wouldn't matter either.
Because by the time he reached the net they held steadily in their hands, Ken Hidaka, the young rogue who had just attempted at escape, was already unconscious.
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RedemptionMoon : I have a lot to say, and yet nothing that makes sense. goes away laughing manically Whoa ! This chapter is kinda long wouldn't you say ? So please make it rewarding for me and review !
Tryster : Lol, yeah it is kinda ironic isn't it ? But then again, we'll soon find out that Crawford really is kinda obsessed with a certain someone than he lets on.
Whisper Reilman : Yeah ! Go Supportinator ! -- . -- Well, it sounds kinda weird – LOL but I like it ! . Well, this was a little better than a payphone isn't it (not that he knew Schuldich's number anyway) too bad it failed miserably. I mean MISERABLY.
Mariki : Er ... I guess I did get it wrong again – not that I ever got it right. And no, I'm not offended or annoyed or anything but the truth is, I don't really mind who the er ... cough seme and the uke are. All that's important in my book is that this is a cough nervously dare I say it ? A love story ! runs away
Maki : Why hello there ! Yes, a BradxKen , and a SchuldichxKen ... maybe an AyaxKen too somewhere down the line. Please continue your support. bows
Wai – Aki : You didn't ? Funny, I expected you all to wind up snoring in my face... or at least not reviewing. But I'm glad you guys did. You know how much that picks me up. Cut the cold act huh ? wink We'll just have to wait and see... one of my favorite parts are just a few chapters away.
Misura : You DID ? ish dumbfounded Like I said to Aki, I expected you guys to be bored, and didn't at all think you'd like it – much less 'LOVE' it. My Fair Lady ? Heard of it, but never watched it. What's it about ?
Schu : LOL I'm glad that when you got to borrow a friend's computer you thought of reviewing. Thank you !!! glomps And yes, the purpose of that loooong chapter and as I said again and again – in my opinion a boring one was to establish what happened to Ken on a daily basis. I couldn't have him living at Crawford's manor as a servant without a routine and I wanted you guys to find out what it is.
Tonig : Hullo ! . laughs yes, it's AU and probably the job openings do not fit the characters but I wanted to make it a little bit more interesting. Please continue your support ! bows
Allis : It's okay, I don't mind delays as long as people RnR ! . Thanks, I'm glad you do. I agree, 4:30 in the morning is the best time to sleep. bowwow