Author's Note: Holy crap yes! I have returned, after a very long, long break... To be truthful, I got so fed up with this story I stopped working on it for months. But then I picked it back up and I'm happy to say that it's finally finished! Hooray! So hopefully there won't be any more huge gaps between posting.
I'll probably go back and tweak the last two chapters too, although nothing drastic will be changed. I just like tweaking...
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the SpongeBob characters. But the baddies are ALL mine. (evil grin)
Part Tres : The Storm Gathers
Dennis started. "Wh-what are you saying?"
"You know they never found the driver… the one responsible for Mindy's injuries? Well, it wasn't just some drunk. Someone wanted her dead."
He stared at her silently, then chuckled. "That's not possible."
She said nothing.
"Are you serious? You mean it was… would have been… murder? …you're kidding…"
"I wish I was. There's unrest in the city. Who knows why? Maybe since that madman, Plankton, tried to take over… maybe the people just don't want anyone in control, even someone as sweet and caring as Mindy."
Dennis swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn't go away. "How do you know?" he whispered.
Her eyes flicked to the ground. "Protect her, Dennis. Keep her safe, because this won't be the last time." And she turned and walked away, her shoes echoing down the hall.
Slowly he staggered back into the room. Mindy was saying goodbye to FOOLS. Suddenly he saw an image of her, all bloody again, a shot still ringing in his ears. His vision clouded and he leaned woozily against the wall.
"What's wrong?" Mindy snapped, as the remaining visitors closed the door. She rose up slightly, grimaced, and lay back down.
"Nothing… I just felt a little faint…"
"You're tired. Please go home. I'll be fine."
Tears sprang to his eyes. He wiped them away fruitlessly. Of course, there was no way to prove Jones's suspicions. It wasn't as if you could plan to run over someone. Or could you?
"Kalid will come soon," Mindy continued. "I wouldn't be alone. You deserve to rest."
He shook his head. "It's nothing, really. You should sleep."
"Dennis, you are wearing yourself out…"
"I'm fine…"
"I could make you. I am a princess, you know—"
"NO!" he cried. Mindy was taken aback. He breathed hard, a tight vise forming around his chest. "Protect her… keep her safe… this won't be the last time…" Maybe it was just paranoia of an old woman. Maybe not. He couldn't take that risk.
"What's going on?" piped a squeaky voice from the door. Mindy sighed as Kalid entered hesitantly.
"Dennis is just being stubborn again," she said. She smiled weakly. Dennis gave her a grateful smile, more with his eyes than his face. She sensed his relief and decided that if Dennis felt compelled to stay here, then let him.
---
The warehouse was dark and quiet. The only light was the curling orange amber of a cigarette—the only sound was the smoker, inhaling deeply. The near-silence only lasted another few seconds, when a harsh voice cut through the darkness.
"Put that thing away!" The cigarette was extinguished, stomped into the ground. "You'll smother both of us!"
The smoker made an irritated sound, which settled into a cough.
The two individuals—one a man in his late thirties, the other a young, very outspoken woman—sat tensely, waiting. The man, still aggravated over the loss of his cigarette, began picking at one of the buttons on the couch. The woman waited a minute, then punched him—hard—in the ribs.
"Neptune, woman—" he cried. He was silenced by another blow.
"Don't even say that name…" she growled through gritted teeth.
The man swore under his breath.
It was hard, just waiting.
In the dark.
Without a cigarette.
Their group, the Underground, had dispersed for nearly two weeks after the accident, each stewing in their own private thoughts. What an idiot. What was he thinking?
The idiot had contacted them yesterday, saying that it was safe to make it back. Keep the door open.
They'd keep it open all right. Then they'd lock it up tight and give him the beating of his life.
What an idiot.
But Cameron Willis, who was walking briskly down the street, his bandaged hands dug deep in his pockets, did not think he was idiotic. He was actually thinking that his plan had been brilliant.
He only regretted that the girl had lived.
Cam scowled, brushing his brown-blond hair out of his eyes. If anything, it was they who were the fools. Always talk, never action. His jaw tightened. He was the only one willing to take initiative, the only one willing to get the job done instead of sitting around in the dark, waiting for "just the right moment." Hmph. He hoped they had had a lovely two weeks. They weren't the ones who were spending their nights in cellars, in alleys, with bleeding hands from broken glass, having to get rid of the car, making their slow, painful way through the lonely streets. They were having it easy.
If there was anyone who had suffered the most because of Neptune's reign, it was Cam. Shouldn't he be the one who dealt the vengeful blows on the whole royal family?
There was a bright spark to his eye, a dark lust for revenge. He curled his sore fingers, imagining them curled around her pale throat…
He uncurled them quickly. He shook his head. Too risky. When she died, it would be very fast, so fast that no one would know… no one could suspect.
Warehouse D-119 appeared in view. Without fully realizing it, he let out a sigh of relief. The grungy walls with smoke-blackened corners would have sent any normal person hurrying past, but to him it was familiar, a welcome haven. It was safe, at least. They'd be waiting for him, with congratulatory handshakes and words of praise. Maybe they'd finally see that things could only happen with action.
Smiling, he pushed open the door.
It was dark, but then, it always was. He groped in the half-light streaming from the doorway until he found a kerosene lamp. He twisted it on. It burned happily.
He turned. A nervous gulp rose from his throat.
They didn't look happy.
"What the heck was that?" said Celesa. Her spiky black hair was swept across her face. He could see the angry knit of one eyebrow and the delicate turn of her mouth. Her face was growing redder by the minute.
Cam held up his hands. "Hey! I trudge through crud-infested streets for days and this is how I'm greeted?" His voice was annoyingly high. Not a good sign. He raised his eyebrows, trying to calm down. But Celesa's wrath was… actually pretty scary.
She strode over to him, glaring. Despite the fact that she was several inches shorter than him, he found himself cowering away. She jabbed a long, manicured finger into his chest.
"You slime! Do you know how close you came to ruining everything? We've talked about this…"
Fury rose within him. "That's just it! You talk, Celesa! You never act!"
"We're going to act, Cam. We've been planning this for months. Now they're going to be suspicious. You know what your little stunt will mean? It'll mean heightened security… press coverage… recovery time for Mindy... That's time we can't afford to spend! Don't you see? If we get behind schedule, the whole thing might never go through! The doctor was furious!"
"Well, let him be. I was doing what you wanted us to do!"
"Cam! You know as well as I do that what you did wasn't about us! It was about you! It was a selfish mistake that may very well ruin everything!"
Cam smiled. "You're repeating yourself, dear."
She growled. The smoker raised his eyebrows but remained quiet. Best to stay out of this.
"Look," said Cam, grabbing her wrists. "Here's what I'm saying. Let's just stake them out for a while. We'll see if they even suspect anything. As far as I know, they'll think it was only an accident. Does that reassure you?"
"No." She shot him an icy glare. He pulled her into his chest.
"I don't regret what I did, Celesa. If Mindy had died, it would have eliminated a lot of problems for us. It would have created a distraction… just big enough for us to finish the job. But she didn't. We have to follow through with what we've—I've—started…"
She pushed away from him. Her eyes remained hard, but her shoulders were slumped in defeat.
"Whatever, Cam. Nothing I can say to you is sufficient to describe your... lack of intelligence… You just messed up bad. But there isn't anything we can do…" She sighed, and then turned to the other man. "Spread the word that we're going to keep a close eye on the princess. Then we'll decide what to do next."
The smoker nodded, taking a long whiff out of his new cigarette. "Will do."
---
In a quiet, dark room in the heart of Bikini Bottom, an evil mastermind stroked the shell of a white purebred snail. The snail meowed in irritation.
"Oh, quiet, Leeny..." growled its owner. "Soon everything will fall into place... I'll have my revenge and the kingdom will crumble under my feet!"
"I wouldn't count on that..." came a sardonic voice. A computer rolled its way into view, its screen flickering with every carefully pronounced word. "It seems to me that you crumble under everyone else's feet..." The computer laughed at its, or more precisely, her joke.
"Karen..." Dr. Peter Lankton said testily. "Isn't it time for your upgrade?"
The computer looked sheepish. "Yes, Your Majesty," it said with thick sarcasm.
Dr. Lankton flicked on a monitor, watching as his henchmen bickered amongst themselves in a godforsaken warehouse. He laughed, long and loud and maniacally. "It won't matter in the end..." he said cryptically. "I'll have my way no matter what those fools decide." He patted Leeny on the eye, much to her irritation, and let out another laugh, for good measure.
"They won't even see it coming..."
---
White, smoky tendrils of fog floated through the town. The yellow sun cast flickers of light on them, making rainbows of red, orange, and gold. The setting was peaceful, full of promise and hope. And indeed, it seemed like a hopeful day.
The nurse tied a balloon on Mindy's wheelchair. Mindy sighed and flicked her hospital wristband absently. She had strongly objected to the wheelchair; it wasn't like she couldn't move, but no one listened to her. At least she wouldn't be confined to it for long.
Dennis leaned over, nervously checking to make sure the chair hadn't been tampered with. What if it happened again here, in front of all these people? There was a terrific throng outside the hospital doors, ready to shower congratulations and get-well-soons on the princess. Surely they wouldn't dare… he decided if there was any proof to Jones's suspicions, they would. If they would try to hurt an innocent girl… He gritted his teeth and gripped the handles of the chair. The sooner they got out of here, the better.
The doors opened, and the balloon bounced from the top of the doorframe. A raucous cheer erupted from the crowd. Joyous freckled faces of young children cried, "Long live Princess Mindy!" while their parents scolded them for leaning too far over the flimsy ropes that had been put up. A few roses flew out, and Mindy caught one with her good arm, smiling. Dennis gawked at the mass of people, his legs leaden as he walked down the sidewalk to an awaiting carriage. He could see Kalid at the end of the line, struggling to open the carriage doors. He turned again to the crowd. A few young teenage boys eyed him contemptuously as he fought back a grin. Photographers fought their way to the front, their cameras flashing in a blinding assault of light. Off to the side, their faces unsmiling, stood a group of four individuals, watching the small procession with blank eyes. He shivered and couldn't have been more relieved when they reached the carriage.
Gently, he lifted Mindy out of the chair and into the carriage. She gave him a small frown, but it was gone in an instant as she leaned out the window and gave one last wave. The crowd cheered louder, their faces bright with glee. Dennis cast a nervous glance at the unsmiling faces. Their expressions never changed. Two of them, one a man and one a woman, wore long leather trench coats, their faces almost totally hidden by upturned collars. The other two wore dark sunglasses and baggy pants. Perfect for hiding a weapon, he thought, a cold sweat breaking over him. His own knives were concealed, at Mindy's request. It might not sit so well with the audience if he were carrying blades in full view. He wanted to protest that visible weapons would discourage any assassins, but he wasn't about to worry her unnecessarily. And he wasn't sure if there was a legitimate reason for his concern. Now he instinctively groped for his knife, but it was hidden and out-of-reach.
He shut the carriage door and walked around to the other side, his heart hammering. All he could see of the crowd were those same four. One lit a cigarette, blew once, and ground it into the dust. In one move, they turned and walked away toward a couple of motorcycles. The one with the cigarette suddenly stopped, turning slowly in the direction of the carriage. Dennis couldn't move, his mind empty with fear. The man faced him full on, cold eyes boring into Dennis's.
Why is he staring at me? Dennis wondered fleetingly. The man continued to stare, unblinking. Then his eyes crinkled with a smirk and he hurried away.
"Dennis, what are you waiting for? Get in!" piped Mindy, her face more bright and alert than it had been in all those long three weeks. It seemed as though she fed off the attention of her subjects. He dashed in, slamming the door behind him. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to mask his fright.
Mindy rested a hand on his shoulder. "That's okay, Dennis. You get used to the crowds after a while." He tried to smile. He waited till his heart stopped beating quite so fast before he spoke.
"Yes, it's quite overwhelming. I don't see how you do it." Surreptitiously, he reached into his boot and unfastened a knife. He gripped it in the palm of his hand, his fear abating slightly. With a means of defense, he was in control.
"Just don't exhaust yourself," Kalid said to Mindy over his shoulder. He twisted back around in the driver's seat, whipping the reins across the seahorses' backs. The carriage bolted forward. Dennis looked out the window. No sign of that group.
"I won't!" Mindy said dismissively.
"You have to know your limits, Mindy," said a voice right next to Dennis's ear. Neptune sat in the back seat, an imperious smile on his face. Dennis was uncomfortably aware that, from the back, the king could see all. Neptune stared at Dennis a little smugly. He and the king weren't exactly on the best of terms.
"I do," Mindy said quickly. "And I'm a long way from exceeding them... You look pale, Dennis. Do you have a phobia of crowds?"
"No," he said curtly. His hands were shaking.
"Of course. Assassins… they aren't afraid of anything," Neptune scoffed. Dennis tightened his grip on the knife. It wasn't as though he would actually use it, but it usually helped still his anger.
"Dad-dy…" Mindy said, trying to laugh it off. But the tension was still there.
But I am afraid, he thought to himself through gritted teeth. I'm afraid that no matter what I do, it won't be enough, enough to save her, enough to make up for all my sins, enough to win your stupid approval…
"So are you going to the concert with us tomorrow, Dennis?" Mindy asked.
"I don't know. Are you sure you'll feel up to it?"
Another frown crossed her face. "I'll be fine."
"Yeah…" he said, his annoyance at her growing. "Just a day after you've been released from the hospital for life-threatening injuries, 'you'll be fine'!"
There was an icy silence. Dennis could fairly hear Neptune's glee at Mindy's displeasure with him.
"I told you… I'll be fine."
They arrived at the palace. Neptune and Mindy disembarked while Dennis and Kalid remained in the carriage. Dennis ran his thumb along the blade of the knife, testing its point. Kalid saw it and stiffened, eyes wide.
"Do you ever have any problems with security?" Dennis asked abruptly, eyes never leaving the knife. Kalid stretched the collar of his uniform, his black hair already curled with sweat.
"How do you mean?"
"Suppose someone meant harm to a member of the royal family. Have precautions been taken to prevent it?"
Kalid raised himself up to his full height, and from his position in the driver's seat he was actually taller than Dennis.
"Sir, if you are the one who intends harm…"
Dennis laughed stiffly and pocketed the knife.
"You get nervous too easy, Squire. You know I would never… That's not the point of my asking. It's just… I wondered if there is that danger…"
Kalid relaxed slightly. "My apologies. Yes, of course there is…" Suddenly the squire's eyes went wide, as though he had just remembered something. "B-but you cannot speak to Mindy about your concerns."
"Surely she knows there's a chance…"
"Just don't. It's a touchy subject." Kalid paused. "But I don't think there's extreme danger right now. You saw the crowd. If there was a great unrest, then we'd have to be worried."
Dennis frowned, remembering the picture Jones had painted. "What if there's just one person... or a few... that are unhappy? It only takes one shot."
Kalid gave him a you-would-know look. Dennis was feeling slightly lightheaded just talking about it.
"You would have to talk to the Council about that then," Kalid said, his lips pursed. "However, it is nearly impossible to get an audience. But I'd watch your step, Dennis. Too many questions to the wrong people and you'll find yourself in hot water."
Dennis clambered out of the carriage and Kalid roared off to the stables.
"Doesn't anyone care about her?" he muttered. Wearily, he got his bike and headed home.
He was loath to admit he needed money, but it was evident when viewing his rundown apartment on the outskirts of town. He wasn't taking on anymore "jobs", that was for sure, but he could find no other way to make a living. None of the jobs he'd looked at in town agreed with him. His cash was dwindling, however, and he needed to come up with money soon.
He inserted a key in the lock, thinking. Hey, exactly how had Jones known all that? Unless she was just a little off… No, she had looked sane. But how? Unless…
He left the thought unfinished as he opened the door. The light clicked on and he could see a white sheet of paper fluttering from his bedroom door. He lunged for it, ripping the note off its tape and reading it with increasing panic.
'Dennis,
I'm afraid for Mindy. The time draws near. Please believe me when I say the danger is real. Don't let her out of your sight. Stay close by and be prepared. For her sake, don't take this lightly. My sources are reliable…'
It was signed Jones.
Trying to remain calm, he fingered the note, thinking. How had the note come to be there? Was that important? Just how did she know all this anyway?
He closed his eyes, sorting through the few facts he had. Can I trust her? Is she some kind of spy? Or does she know firsthand? She's like eighty years old, for Atlantis' sake! Through the doubt and bewilderment, however, one thought rang the loudest.
Mindy…
His hands went clammy and his throat grew dry. Dread squeezed around his heart. Mindy…
No…no…no! His mind echoed again and again.
He wouldn't let it happen. Whatever it took, he couldn't let it happen.