Midnight Blues
8. The Mark of the Beast
Tall grass swayed in the warm summer breeze as the sun shown down through the big puffy white clouds that floated across the bright blue sky. A large golden butterfly fluttered among the brightly colored wild flowers that dotted the field. Laughter floated on the breeze. A little girl ran happily through the tall grass laughing as a tall man chased after her, his eyes twinkling with merriment. He caught up to her, scooping her up into his arms and kissing her forehead tenderly.
"Come on, Faye, momma made us a big lunch and we're going to be late if we don't hurry!"
The little girl squealed with delight as her father lifted her onto his shoulders and began to jog towards a large white house perched on the crest of a low rising hill overlooking the sparkling blue bay on the other side. A woman in white wearing a wide brimmed straw hat to cover her flowing auburn hair stood by the gate and waited for the two to join her.
Laughing, the little girl ran to her mother's side, wrapping her tiny arms around the woman's slender waist and pressed her face against her stomach.
"I love you, Mamma."
The woman laughed softly. "I love you, too, my little Faye."
The sunlight wavered and darkness fell as the wind began to howl, tearing at the little girl as if possessed by demons. "Mamma!" the little girl screamed as she lost contact with her mother's arms. "Mamma!" Shadows fell over her in the darkness as the wind continued to scream across the grassy field.
"Faye!" Her father's voice was faint over the storm. "Faye where are you!" His voice faded away, torn from her by the raging winds.
"Papa!"
"Faye…"The little girl searched frantically about, tears streaming down her frightened face.
"Faye…""Papa?"
A hand touched her face, caressing her cheek gently. "Faye…wake up, Faye."
Her eyes fluttered open. She was lying on her back on a soft bed; candles flickered around the room casting a wavering light that did nothing to pierce the darkness gathering at the edges of the richly furnished room. The sound of laughter and many voices filtered faintly through the shadowed ceiling.
"Ungh…"
"Hush, my child," a voice whispered from beside her. "You've been unconscious for quite a while. It will take some time for your sedative to wear off completely."
"Uhn…ghh.." Faye struggled against her unresponsive body, her mind screaming, trapped inside its cage of flesh and bone, as her eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. The presence beside her shifted, leaning over her.
"Now, now," the smooth masculine voice said chidingly as if he were scolding a disobedient child. "Don't you worry. I won't start until you are in complete control of all your faculties." The hand traced the line of her jaw and slid down her neck coming to rest on her collarbone. "It is very important that you feel everything," he whispered against her ear. "It will give me so much pleasure to hear you scream…" Faye jerked involuntarily as his tongue flicked out to taste her neck.
"Ah good," the presence moved away from her. "It looks like we won't be waiting long."
Faye's mind whirled franticly as she tried move, but her body lay as still as the bed she had found herself on. There was a knock on the door somewhere off to her left; the sound of the door opening was followed and a hushed conversation, a feminine voice joining the first voice she had already begun to recognize.
The bed creaked as someone sat beside her on the soft covers. "It seems, my dear, that I have been missed upstairs." He sighed. "But I shall return to your side, my lovely Faye." Sanders' terribly beautiful face came into her line of sight as he leaned over her and caressed her cheek. He smiled. "Don't go wandering off while I'm gone." And then he was gone, chuckling to himself as he closed the door behind him, leaving Faye in the dimly lit room, alone and unable to move.
"Where the hell did they go!" Spike snarled punching the cement wall of the squat warehouse he and Jet had commandeered to use as their center of operations while they searched desperately for some sign of Faye or Sanders. "I should have grabbed him when I had the chance," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Spike, that wasn't part of the plan," Jet said gruffly as he tried to locate Faye's signal on his tracking systems.
"Look where the plan got us! Faye could be—"
"And if you'd jumped him while he was surrounded by all those people, what do you think would have happened?"
"They were alone in the box—"
"Do you really think that would have done you any good? He could have been armed. If you'd surprised him, who knows what he would have done when he was backed into a corner!"
Spike stood seething mutely as blood trickled from his clenched fist.
"The man is dangerous—"
"Yeah thanks for reminding me—"
"And you need to start treating him with the respect he deserves!" Jet shouted, his eyes burning in Spike's direction. "You're not the only one here worried about Faye, Spike," he said softly.
Spike glared down at Jet where he sat on an overturned crate, his anger boiling just beneath the surface as he thought of what Sanders might be doing to Faye as they sat there doing nothing. His stomach clenched as his mind replayed the images of Sanders' victims, their blood spattered bodies twisted and torn, internal organs spread out horribly around them.
"We have to find her."
Jet scowled as he worked on the tracking device. "I'm working on it," he growled. "If you don't think I'm doing a good enough job, you do it."
The sound of cars whizzing by on the motorway nearby filled the silence like the rushing of a large river in the distance. "I'm going after them."
"You don't even know where they are! They could be anywhere!"
"Look, Jet," Spike growled. "He said he wanted to get a head start on the party. The party is at Tanaka's."
"Spike—"
"It's the only thing we've got!" Spike shouted. Jet sighed heavily and shook his head as Spike turned on his heel and stalked out of the dimly lit warehouse towards the Swordfish.
His anger drove him onwards as he leapt into his ship and shot up into the night sky, his eyes hard with determination as he flew towards the more upscale Tharsis neighborhoods where Yoichi Tanaka kept his considerable estate. The sprawling white building came into view within a few minutes, its beautiful roman columned façade lit by a series of bright spotlights that shown on it from the grounds.
The Swordfish plummeted towards the front drive of the manor, coming to a halt practically on top of the gleaming white stairs that led up to the house as several richly dressed guests dove out of the way. Spike leapt out of the ship and sprinted inside, drawing his gun as he entered.
Two men in black suits converged on him as he ran recklessly into the crowded foyer. Spike skidded to a halt as the two men leapt at him, the larger of the two tackling him to the floor as the other called for reinforcements. Spike dropped as the man hit him, slamming his feet square into the bigger man's chest and sending him crashing into a food-laden table behind him. Screaming erupted around them.
In the ensuing chaos Spike disappeared into the panicked crowd as several more men in black suits appeared on the premises and tried to shove their way through the terrified guests to reach him. Spike ran past a group of shocked women towards the interior of the house, shoving a light haired young man out of the way and sending him crashing to the floor, his tray of champagne classes shattering all around him.
Spike came to an abrupt stop when he reached a huge sweeping ballroom filled with hundreds of milling guests. His breath coming in sharp gasps, he scanned the room for any sign of Sanders or Faye, cursing when he did not see either of them.
Shouts from the direction in which he had come alerted him that the security had almost caught up with him. He hopped over the railing he had been clutching and landed lightly on the ballroom floor, startling a group of tastelessly dressed women into silence.
"Sorry, ladies," he grunted as he pushed through them roughly, their outraged cries falling on deaf ears as he dove into the sea of Mars' glitterati.
Spike muscled past a pair of powerfully built young men and came face to face with Timothy Sanders in the middle of the floor. He raised his gun. "Where is she?" he snarled.
Sanders' smiled cruelly as he looked down at Spike, his piercing blue eyes twinkled mercilessly.
"What did you do to her!"
Sanders' smile broadened. "Such emotion, such …passion," he breathed deeply as if taking some kind of sick pleasure in Spike's furry. The crowd surrounding the two men continued conversing, oblivious, as they faced off in their midst, completely unaware of the danger that hovered over them.
Spike felt a deadly calm come over him as he cocked his gun with a click. "Tell me where she is."
"Do put that away, Mr. Spiegel. You'll frighten the guests and I'm sure Mr. Tanaka would be very displeased if his birthday were ruined."
Spike's eyes narrowed as his anger faltered for an instant.
"My dear boy," Sanders chuckled. "Your reputation has quite preceded you."
Spike narrowed his eyes as he glared at Sanders, his mark never wavering. He smirked suddenly. "Well I'm flattered, really, Sanders, but right now, if you don't tell me where Faye is it'll be your brains they'll be scraping off of those lovely ladies standing behind you."
Sanders licked his fingers and smoothed his eyebrows as he regarded Spike calmly, a small smile curving his lips malevolently. In a flash he flicked his wrist in Spike's direction and darted back into the oblivious crowd. Spike hissed with pain as he clutched at the slim blade protruding from his shoulder, blood oozing from between his clenched fingers.
Clenching his teeth as he yanked the blade from his shoulder he took off after Sanders, who had disappeared through a dark hallway at the far end of the great ballroom, outraged guests complaining loudly as he sprinted past them. Spike peered into the dim passage, his right hand slippery with blood as he clutched his gun tightly. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for any signs of life, but the passage way was long and empty with no places for anyone or anything to hide. He sprinted down the hallway, his steps echoing loudly.
The passage split into two directions, both cloaked in complete darkness. Spike strained his ears, listening for footsteps or breathing, anything that might give away the location of his quarry. Nothing. Spike cursed mentally. Silently, he pressed himself against the wall, willing his senses to sharpen. His eyes narrowed. With a sharp curse, he dropped to the stone floor as a dagger whizzed out of the blackness and thudded into the wall where he had been standing just moments before. In an instant he was up and running down the passage where the projectile had come from, heedless of the darkness that pressed in on him from all sides.
Faye grunted in pain as she landed on the hard rug covered floor with a muffled thump. It had taken what had felt like hours, but she had finally managed to lever herself off of the bed as her numb body slowly regained functionality. Exhausted, she slumped against the plush carpet, her face pressed against the soft fibers panting from the immense effort it had taken to get off the bed as her eyes searched the poorly lit room from her low vantage point.
No one had come into the room since Sanders had left. She had not heard him lock the door and assumed that he had not since she could not have tried to escape in her current condition. The muffled drone voices from above continued uninterrupted as she had lay on the floor, the sound of light music drifting down to her every so often. Panic began to rise in her. She must have been there for hours for so many guests to arrive at the celebration from the theatre. With a grunt she managed to force her arms to move as whatever it was that Sanders had used on her began to lose effect.
The door opened. She heard muffled footsteps as someone approached, a pair of gleaming white shoes coming to a halt before her face. White pants creased as the figure kneeled before her and she was lifted gently into a sitting position, strong arms encircling her waist and holding her against a chest clad all in white.
"My dear, dear Faye," Sanders whispered, cradling her head against his chest and rocking her gently. "Why must you always try to hide from me?'
Faye struggled to push him away, but only managed to move her arm feebly.
"I've been searching for you for so long. I almost had you, you know, but I was young and careless then, mistaking your lovely dark haired friend for you. You can't imagine how disappointed I was when I discovered my mistake."
Faye grunted through clenched teeth as she tried to move away from him. Sanders chuckled, resting his chin on the top of her head. "You don't know how much I will enjoy our little session together," he whispered as he slipped his long fingers through her hair.
"I want to show you something," Sanders said softly, reaching up and taking a small black case off of the bedside table. He opened it with a soft click and lifted the lid back revealing row upon row of various blades, some serrated, some wide, some narrow, sizes ranging from twelve inches of gleaming steel to tiny blades the size of a her pinky finger, all laid out neatly in black velvet beds and polished to perfection.
Sanders ran his fingers lovingly over the gleaming blades, his fingers pausing over one razor sharp implement or another, skimming the care worn handles with a lovers caress.
Panic flared inside her, threatening to smother all coherent thought. The urge to flee surged through her as she panted hoarsely against his chest unable to move. A tear trickled down her cheek and Faye gagged, her mind unable to focus, fear overriding all common sense.
"Mmh..fu..ngh…yu…you…"
Sanders lashed out at her, a stinging slap sending her crumpling to the floor, tears streaming from her eyes. "Stupid woman," he hissed, his eyes glittering hatefully. "You're just like her, just like all of them! All you see is a monster when instead you should be seeing a god! I could have given you everything and instead you spit in my face!" He lunged forward, grabbing her neck in his powerful grip.
"Perhaps," he whispered harshly, his lips curling back menacingly. "You would like a taste of what is to come." Faye swallowed convulsively as she stared up at him in terror. He licked his thumb and ran it along the length of the sharp blade. "Just a little cut," he whispered leaning over her. "To leave my mark." His warm breath sent shivers running down her spine.
A scream tore from her throat as the sharp blade cut into her skin, searing hot pain lancing through her body. Sanders moved with a surgeon's precision, taking his time as Faye panted harshly beneath him, her body twitching and jerking as he carved a tiny symbol into her neck.
"Now you are mine," Sanders whispered on after a brief pause, letting her slump back onto the floor as she blacked out from the pain, his voice suddenly smooth and dark once more. "It seems that we will have to continue our little session later." He licked his fingers, smoothing his eyebrows as he regained his composure fully.
Spike slowed to a halt as he reached a fork in the dark passage. He turned back to look down the passage he had just come through, noting the gaping black openings to other passages that branched off into the dark labyrinth beneath the mansion. He cursed. Sanders could have ducked into any number of those passages and he wouldn't have noticed a thing in the darkness. Spike turned back to peer down the two dark passages on either side of him. Nothing, just like there had been nothing in the last passage, or the hallway before that, or the corridor before them both.
He started down the right passage and stopped. He turned and began to follow the other passage, stopping before he had gone ten paces and cursed furiously. In his headlong rush to catch his quarry he had allowed himself to become hopelessly lost in the maze of dark passages. Suddenly he had the strong feeling that he was just a rat in a maze being timed to see how long it would take him to reach the cheese at the end.
A thousand thoughts flooded his mind as he stood in the dark still clutching the blood-slicked Jericho in one hand. A scream shattered the oppressive silence like bomb, the hair on the back of Spike's neck rising as he whirled toward the chilling sound. The scream went on and on and on as he stood rooted to the spot, unable to block out the horrible sound of mortal agony. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.
"Faye!"
Without a second thought he sprinted down the hall towards the ragged voice, his heart beating furiously in his chest, his breath ragged as he flew around corners. The scream intensified for an instant and then cut off with frightening finality. Spike slid around a sharp corner and stopped dead in front of a large wooden door, the shadowy symbols of a dragon and a tiger barely visible on its finely lacquered surface.
The silence pressed in on him like a living thing seeking to smother him as he approached the door slowly. He put a hand on the door gun ready. The instant he touched the wooden surface, the scream began again, interrupted by short, bubbling, terror filled gasps. He jerked back as if he had been burned.
"No…" the voice rasped. "Please…No!"
Spike leaned heavily on the wall as he gagged, the sounds of death filtering through the thick wood of the door. His head spun nauseatingly as he listened, unable to move as the sounds of tearing flesh and bone, of blood splattering onto the floor, the walls, the ceiling reached him. He was too late. He slid down the wall, his head in his hands as images of Julia's falling body hitting the ground flashed before his closed eyes. He'd failed again, failed again to protect the one he—
"SPIKE!" The voice rose above the sounds of carnage like bell. His head snapped up.
In an instant he was up on his feet, a powerful kick sending the door crashing open as he leapt into the dimly let room his gun leveled and ready. He stopped, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. Faye was lying unconscious on the plush carpet, satiny black dress rumpled slightly, a trickle of blood running down her slim neck in stark contrast to her pale skin. His eyes fell upon a small recording device that sat on a table in the middle of the room emitting the sound of someone begging for mercy, the feeble voice all but a painful whisper.
Spike rushed to the bed as Faye began to stir. "Faye, Faye can you hear me? Faye!"
Her eyes fluttered open. "Spike?"
Spike felt relief flood over him as she whispered his name weakly. "Faye, listen to me," he said smoothing back her hair. "We're leaving, right now."
Faye shook her head. "Sanders…"
"Forget about Sanders, I'm going to get you—"
Faye's eyes widened as she grasped his jacket weakly, her breath wheezing as she struggled with her unresponsive body. "N…noo… S-Spike loo…ook—"
Spike froze as he felt the cold blade of a knife come to rest just under his chin.
"How quaint," a voice drawled from behind him. "Get up!" the voice barked, the knife digging into Spike's neck. A drop of blood dribbled down his neck and soaked into the collar of shirt, a small red stain blossoming on the white fabric. Spike stood slowly, his body relaxed.
"Turn around."
Spike turned, his eyes taking in the lay of the room, his arms at ease at his sides.
"Up against the wall."
Spike walked slowly over to the wall and leaned casually against it as Sanders continued to hold the knife to his throat. His eyes narrowed slightly as a woman walked through the door, a red dress hugging her figure as she stepped around an over turned footstool on the floor. Sanders smiled.
"You may remember my assistant Delilah?" He smirked at Spike as he glared at the woman. Faye stared in shock. Sanders went on, "But you must remember. I seem to recall your being particularly enamored of her when last you saw her."
Spike's mismatched russet eyes locked on Sanders' icy blues.
"Don't slight yourself, my dear boy. You wouldn't have been able to resist her charms if you'd wanted to." Spike glared at him mutely. "You see, Delilah was wearing a special brand of perfume, mine actually," he chuckled. "A special blend of enhanced pheromones meant to…excite… the sexual drive and create a bit of a distraction. Males are particularly sensitive to such stimulus." Spike's eyes flickered to Faye, her eyes wide with shock and pain as she recalled the scene on the balcony.
"Ah yes," Sanders laughed softly. "You would be in love with her, wouldn't you…" He smirked as he followed Spike's gaze. "Lovely little thing, isn't she?" he whispered conspiratorially. "I will enjoy tasting her blood when it has covered my hands—" Spike jerked, but was brought up short as the knife at his throat cut into him.
"Be very careful, boy," Sanders hissed. "It is foolish to anger a hungry dragon in his own lair." Spike narrowed his eyes.
Delilah retrieved the case of knives from the floor and set them on the table beside the bed. She tied Faye's wrists and ankles to the bed posts so that she was lying spread eagle on the bed and pulled out a long and wicked looking syringe and plunged it into Faye's neck with an almost gleeful smile at the scream that tore from Faye's throat. Spike's eyebrow twitched.
Pain shot through her entire being as the syringe was pulled from her body, the liquid that had been shot into her burning through her veins like fire. Faye gasped as her back arched up off the bed, her vision blurring. The pain cleared away the fog from her mind, tore away the invisible bonds holding her arms and legs from obeying her will and she arched against her bonds with a sharp hiss.
Spike stood against the wall, the wickedly curved knife held against his jugular, his face devoid of emotion. Sanders motioned Delilah to take his place and walked slowly toward the bed, selecting a long thin blade from the case on the table.
"You might be wondering how it is I have managed to accomplish all this," he said gesturing all around him. "But one has certain resources available when one has two syndicates at one's beck and call." Spike's eyes widened. "Oh you didn't know that? You surprise me, Mr. Spiegel. I thought you were more clever than that."
Sanders casually tested the sharpness of the blade against his thumb as he regarded Spike with cool blue eyes. He icked the blood from his thumb. "I think you're beginning to understand, my young friend, that you have gotten yourself into something much deeper than you thought, much more dangerous." He paused. "You're not afraid of dying, are you, Mr. Spiegel?"
Spike shrugged.
Sanders looked at him from under his eyebrows. "Well perhaps you should be," he said softly, his voice hanging darkly in the tension filled air.
Spike's eyes narrowed. In an instant he grabbed Delilah's arm, spun her around, wrenching her arm behind her back and held her knife to her own neck, his eyes remaining locked on Sanders'.
"That will not get you anywhere, I'm afraid," Sanders said placidly.
Delilah's eyes widened. "What!"
"She has been of use, but is of no great importance to me," Sanders gestured blandly as the frightened woman began to struggle in Spike's grasp.
Spike whipped the butt of his gun against the back of the woman's head, letting her drop unceremoniously to the ground with a thump. He leveled his gun at Sanders' head.
"And now?"
Sanders' smiled slightly. "A mere inconvenience," he replied, his hand flicking out. A knife flew past Spike's face, nicking his ear.
Spike snarled and fired a shot at Sanders but missed, his target having dropped out of the way. He lunged at the other man, aiming a kick at his head. Sanders ducked, his own long legs lashing out as Spike came at him, forcing him to leap out of the way of the low swipe. Spike slammed into a table, crashing to the ground amidst the shattered splinters of the once fine oak. Faye screamed as Sanders leapt for his knives and sent a pair whizzing in Spike's direction, the first thudding harmlessly into the wall, and the other biting deepl into Spike's side. He hissed in pain, firing off two shots, one missing Sanders by inches, slicing through the bond holding Faye's wrist, the other catching Sanders above the right knee and sending him crashing to the floor cursing fluently, his cool demeanor finally broken.
"Fools!" Sanders hissed, straightening with some difficulty as the leg of his white trousers turned red. "Do you think you can stop me! You are nothing!" He leaned down and kissed Faye harshly on the lips. "Until we meet again," he snarled, darting through the open door with his black case tucked beneath one arm.
Spike struggled to his feet, swaying slightly from loss of blood as he held one arm tightly over the bleeding wound in his side. Stumbling once, he managed to make it half way to the bed on which Faye lay and collapsed onto the floor, his breath coming shallowly.
"Spike! Spike are you all right!" Faye was nearly hysterical as she struggled with her remaining bonds. She leapt from the bed, falling upon his bleeding form. "Spike!"
"Get off… woman…" Spike grunted as she threatened to smother him. He looked blearily at his bloodstained shirt and flashed a weak lopsided grin. "Do I look all right?"
"Do you enjoy this!" she pealed away his blood soaked shirt and gasped. Spike hissed as she wrapped a piece of fabric torn from the hem of her dress around his middle, tying it off sharply.
Panic surged through her body as Spike's eyes fluttered shut. She leaned over him, clutching his face in her hands and leaving bloody streaks across his pale sweat slicked skin. "Spike! Spike don't you do this to me!"
His eyes opened slowly to regard her with a look of resignation. "Don't worry," he whispered and coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "I've been dead…for a long time…" he touched her cheek feebly. "My body just never…caught on to it…" His hand slipped from her cheek and fell to his chest, his eyes blinking slowly.
"SPIKE!" Faye grabbed his shoulders, shaking him roughly. "Spike open your eyes! You have to listen to me! You can't die, not again!"
His head lolled to the side. Faye frantically checked his pulse as tears poured from her eyes. It was there, painfully slow and dangerously weak.
Faye threw his arm over her shoulders, grunting as she struggled to lift his weight. Her mind spun as the shock of what was happening numbed her. She half carried, half dragged Spike through the door and looked down the dark hallway. Their plan had gone so smoothly until Sanders had turned it upside down on them, and now Spike was hurt, almost dead, and they were lost somewhere in the bowls of Tanaka's mansion.
She peered into the shadows. A dark trail of something wet and slippery disappeared into the darkness. Blood. With a grunt of effort, Faye dragged Spike's body after the trail of blood, pausing every now and then to catch her breath as his body weighed her down, thanking the powers that be that Spike was so lean.
The dark trail went on and on, twisting through the dark. It began to lessen gradually as Sadners' body must have begun to clot the blood flow. Faye cursed, her aching muscles screaming for rest as she dragged her unconscious burden along with her. The trail of blood ended.
Faye searched the floor for some sign, some drop, a bloody footprint a boot scuff, anything, but the stone tiles were completely bare. She slumped back against the wall, her arms no longer able to hold Spike's weight as she slid to the floor. She buried her face in her hands, Spike's blood smearing her features as tears of frustration and anger slid onto his bloodstained shirt.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, a chocking sob escaping her lips as she held his limp form in her arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…please, please don't leave me again…" She pushed his sweat-slicked hair out of his face, willing his deep russet eyes to open. "I need you," she whispered. "Please…"
The corner of Spike's mouth twitched minutely. "Don't…you……for..get….it…" he whispered so weakly she almost missed it, his pale lips barely moving.
Faye threw her arms around his broad shoulders and sobbed into his neck, pulling back sharply when he whimpered in pain. Her elbow cracked into the wall and she winced in pain.
"Don't you ever—" The wall swung outwards suddenly sending them falling back onto the floor where there had been solid wall only moments before.
Faye found herself staring up at a massive, brightly lit, unimaginably high domed ceiling. A huge white phoenix spread its wings across the arched ceiling defiantly, a red dragon hanging limply in its sharply clawed talons and a white tiger lying on its side in the snow at the mighty bird's feet, blood dripping onto the pristine whiteness that it lay upon.
Somebody screamed.
Hundreds of shocked faces turned and stared down at them as Faye began to sit up slowly, dried blood splattered all over her face and covering her arms, Spike a mess of blood and torn clothes. Shouts erupted from the far end of the enormous ballroom and Faye saw a flash of white shoving through the dense crowd. She didn't hesitate.
In an instant she was up and running, her high-heeled shoes forgotten long ago in the candle lit room, Spike's bloody Jericho in her hands. Screams erupted all around her as she shoved heedlessly through the crowd, her eyes fixed on Sanders' back as she ducked past shocked people. He broke free of the assemblage and sprinted for the door, his black case clutched in one hand.
Faye skidded to a halt and took aim. The ballroom exploded with shrieks and screams and terrified yells as gunshots ripped through the shocked silence, panicked guests began to run in an attempt to save their own lives. Someone knocked her to the floor as they shoved past in an attempt to reach the door. It was a stampede.
Faye struggled to her feet, pushing against the erratic stream of screaming people. She had to get back to Spike. She couldn't leave him. She wouldn't leave him!
Jet grumbled to himself as he sat in the dark warehouse, glaring at the little screen before him. It had been over an hour since Spike had disappeared and there had been no sign of him of any kind since as Jet had labored over the tracking device trying to locate Faye's signal. Spike's signal had disappeared shortly after he had gone leaving Jet completely at a loss.
He scratched his head. Something was off about the whole situation. He could have understood if Sanders had somehow managed to block Faye's signal, but for Spike's to disappear as well…that was a whole different problem.
The little light on his com began to flash, beeping urgently. Jet frowned as he turned it on, not recognizing the signal as either Spike's or Faye's.
"Jet? Jet!" An older man with a thinning hairline of dark gray hairs stared urgently back up at him through the tiny screen. "Jet! You have to get—there's been—"
"Whoa, whoa slow down, Bob. What's going on?"
"Jet, you old dog, why don't you answer your damn com!" The man scowled furiously.
"Now I know you didn't call just to bitch at me for not returning your messages."
"There's something big going on at Tanaka's! We've got reports of gunfire and we don't know how many, if any fatalities have been sustained. Why the hell aren't you there!"
Jet glared at the screen. "Why the hell aren't you there, Bob! You've got the whole of ISSP at your disposal. You can't expect me to believe that a little gunfire is too much for you boys to handle these days!"
"We can't, Jet. Believe me, there's too much politics surrounding this one. It goes a lot deeper than you think. Sanders is there."
"Sanders!" Jet cursed violently. "I'll be there in ten minutes," he growled
The city flashed below him in a blur of blinking lights as Jet soared towards Tanaka's mansion. He cursed himself for staying behind, for not listening to Spike when he had gone after Faye. Tanaka's had been part of the original plan in the first place, but he had balked when Faye had been abducted, not wanting to go on a wild goose chase and waste valuable time looking for her in the wrong direction.
The enormous white building loomed out of the night, its many-pillared façade gleaming in the light cast by the moon and the stars and the spotlights hidden in the grounds. Jet frowned when he saw the Swordfish parked, tilted at an awkward angle, half on, half off of the front stairs. The Hammerhead settled gently beside its red cohort, coming to rest with an easy thump.
Jet leapt from the cockpit and made his way hurriedly into the vast open double doors leading into the house. The foyer was empty. He cast a suspicious glance around as he drew his gun. Silently, he made his way through the empty halls, all of his senses at full alert.
"Where the hell is everyone?" he muttered to himself.
He rounded a corner and found himself suddenly on the threshold of a wide, open, sweeping ballroom, packed to the breaking with people, all staring silently at something in the corner, some with glasses poised at their lips, others frozen mid gesture, seemingly having forgotten their limbs. Jet squinted trying to see what it was everyone was looking at, but whatever it was, was low to the ground and obscured by the wall of living flesh.
There was a flash of movement in the corner of his eye, and Jet turned just in time to see Sanders shove a richly dressed elderly woman out of his way as he struggled through the stunned throng. Jet cursed as he took aim at Sanders, but was unable to get a clean shot through the guests, unwilling to risk innocent life, no matter how much they may have deserved it under other circumstances.
Sanders broke free of the crowd and Jet cocked his gun. The entire room erupted in screams and Jet flinched, his first shot ricocheting off the black case clutched in his target's arms. He cursed and fired off two more rounds before a stampede of panicked guests bore down on him, sweeping him back and away in a tide of terror and fear.