Sparks, Flames, Embers

Chapter 7: Match

Day 6…

5:15pm

Thursday had turned out to be a lot like Monday and Tuesday. She spent the majority of her day going to classes, working on homework, and meeting classmates for projects, all the while dodging whoever was trying to Assassinate her. Monday, it had been Otto. Tuesday, it had been Rufus, and today, it had been Dottie.

After the third or fourth time being nearly splattered with green paint by the woman, she texted Jack: where the hell are you?

She only had to wait a few minutes in her huddled position behind the garbage and recycling bins before he replied.

Jack: I am at the store getting snacks. There is a game on tonight.

She didn't know how she could reply without sounding desperate so she sent exactly what she felt, minus any four letter words.

Peggy: Really?!

Jack: No.

Peggy: So basically instead of coordinating an ambush for her, you want to not give away your position so you can get a 2-for-1

Jack: if you really need your white knight, you could let me know where you are

Peggy: Ha! Nice try

Peggy: I don't need to be rescued. I can handle her. I just would rather it be sooner than later

Peggy: you're a lot easier to deal with

And because she just couldn't resist: I mean, you're just easy

She didn't wait for his reply, because now was her chance. A gaggle of foreign exchange students were heading out to the parking lot for an event trip. Much to their confusion, she slipped in among them using them as cover.

She had to part ways eventually though when she reached the section of the lot that Howard had said he parked the car that he was loaning her. Her phone dinged! with a message alert, but she ignored it as she tried to make sure the coast was clear.

She must not have done a very good job, because just as she reached the car, there was a sharp sting to her shoulder and then her ears heard the corresponding Splat! of paint striking and soiling her jacket.

She hastily unlocked Howard's car (a convertible, thank God the top was up) and scrambled in. She twisted her jacket around, careful to make sure that it did not stain the seat, and afraid that it was the fifth green stain from Dottie, as 5 wing shots equaled a kill.

It was blue though.

'Blue! That bloody bastard.'

She whipped out her phone to give him what for, only to see his previously unread message.

Jack: just for that…

Peggy thought about sending a rather nasty and rude retort, but one thing she had learned from her mother was that a lady caught more flies with honey than vinegar. She really did not want to keep dodging Dottie, especially tomorrow. She had plans for Jack tomorrow. And he was a lot more fun – not that she was going to tell him any of that.

So instead she sent: Did you at least get her too?

Jack: No, she's too well covered. But the night is still young.

Peggy thought about it. She could make sure to get her errands done before 8 o'clock and tell him when and where to expect her so that Dottie was ambushed. But too much forewarning and he might be able to plan ahead and ambush her too.

So instead, she decided to leak her plans just before she returned so both Dottie and he would have to scramble.

Now who could she have be her little bird?

~.~

8:02pm

For the first time that week, Peggy was at the Student Activity Center where the Council posted the day's results for each team and member.

She was not really interested. Rose and Jarvis had been keeping her apprised of their standing, but she was pleased to see that they were the only team with all five members not yet permanently eliminated and were neck and neck with a few others for the most acquired flags. She was almost just as pleased to see that Team Leviathan had been completely eliminated.

'Speaking of…' She glanced around the room and saw for herself that this was the first time Underwood was not there. Peggy didn't know whether to be relieved that the woman was not there to glare daggers at her or disappointed that she was denied the opportunity to gloat a little.

"Looking for me?"

"No," she replied coolly in response to the low male voice that practically purred in her ear. She didn't jump at his words, as she had known that Jack was making his way through the crowded room towards her. His swaggering strut was not at all that subtle. But she had not been expecting that warm gust of his breath that ghosted across her skin, nor her body's instant arousal response – the tingles, shivers, and hardening of her nipples. Oh yeah. She had it bad.

"No? You're just that aware of me, huh?" was his smug knowing reply.

She scowled and elbowed him less than gently in the gut so that he would not crowd her space so much. "No, you're about as stealthy as a Roman army general in his triumphal entry march – even when it is premature."

"Premature?" Jack scoffed. "Sweetheart, I got the elusive Miss Underwood. You didn't Assassinate, kill or get any kind of points today."

Oh and wasn't that just like Jack to take all the credit and glory? If she hadn't been willing to play bait, if she hadn't known how to have Rose leak the where and when of her return to campus, he would have gotten nada today as well too. The pompous prick.

She didn't say any of this of course. She didn't want him to know how well she orchestrated and manipulated him. Or the reason that she had not Assassinated anyone lately was because currently her target was Howard, her own keeper. All she did was shrug and point out diffidently, "Well, it really isn't about how many points I get, is it? My team stole another flag today, didn't they?"

They had. While everyone was watching her dance about dodging Underwood, Samberly and Rose had been able to ambush the Roxxon team's keeper (with the aid of the drone that Samberly and Howard had constructed together) and acquired the team's flag – a party favors confetti rocket.

"That's not the bet!" he protested.

"You're right. The charity prize is what matters though," she hastily interrupted, and then raising her voice slightly so that their eavesdroppers could catch every word, "But I have all day tomorrow to make sure that you are my slave for a week too. It is going to be so nice to have you take care of my dry cleaning and other such errands."

And then with a dismissive toss of her pretty dark locks, she spun on her heel and left. She hoped that their little drama had given Jarvis and Ana enough time to sneak Howard into her dorm for the night.

~A~

Day 7…

7:56am

Peggy: is your ride here yet?

Howard: not yet. She's running a little late

Peggy: how late?!

Howard: just a few minutes. Keep your panties on.

Howard: unless you go commando of course

Howard: do you?

Howard: out of curiosity, why do they call it going commando?

Peggy was saved from having to give a response to this inanity (or was it insanity?) by his next message: she's here.

The 'she' was his ride. The reason he needed one so badly was that this was the first time Howard had been on campus all week.

Howard was crap at paintball games. He could make the toys like the drones to help them. He could tinker with the Council-provided guns to improve their aim. But he could shoot for shit himself. And because he had the excellent ability to piss people off, from the start they all knew that almost everyone would be gunning for him – possibly in the hopes to shoot him in the gonads.

But despite all this, he had wanted to be part of their team. He wanted the money to go their cause, and he wanted to show that brains beats out brawn – 'the age of the geek, baby'.

So they had made good use of him – especially when their team's flag turned out to be a bottle of erotic lubricant called 'Midnight Oil'.

In a masterful stroke of psychological warfare (if she did say so herself), Peggy had encouraged Howard to stay off campus as much as possible. By doing so, they signaled to everyone that he was their keeper. For why else would he skip all of his classes? Thus, increasing his target value.

The one class he refused to skip was his lab class. Peggy suspected that it was partly to flirt with his lab partner Maria and partly to pick the brains of his professor for his latest invention. She wasn't going to complain though, because she was going to use his ridiculous get-out-of-being-shot plan as a diversion so that she could make it to her own class.

As soon as she had received Howard's text, she opened her old freshmen year roommate Colleen's bedroom window, climbed out, and began shimmying down the drainpipe.

Jack could wait all he liked for her at her fire escape.

Or he could waste his time searching for her through the mad mob of people trying to shoot Howard as soon as he made his dash out of their dorms (which they had had Angie 'accidentally' let it be known that he was there).

But he wasn't going to find her.

When she reached the bottom, Ana sent her a snapshot of Howard giving the two-finger salute to the frustrated crowd while he hid behind the voluptuous form of his savior – the twenty-something female campus security guard who was speeding him across campus to his lab class like she was 007 to his damsel-in-distress. No one was going to risk messing with her.

To Ana, she replied: only Howard

She was sitting in her seat, laptop out, waiting to take notes, when Jack rushed in, panting and out of breath. When he saw her, he scowled.

She did a little finger wave and smiled.

Their professor was in the middle of roll call, when her phone screen lit up.

Jack: I'll get you, my pretty. And your mangy mutt Starky too

Surreptitiously, she sent back: promises, promises

Mentally, she thought 'Oh but the plans I have for you'.

~.~

4:42pm

Just as Jack was exiting his last class of the day, he received a message alert, and he wondered at her sense of timing.

Peggy: I was bored waiting for you to make good on your promise, so…

It was another picture message. But not one of the titillating variety.

It was a snapshot of a silver paperweight that was a replica of some abstract artwork titled 'The Obelisk'. And it was sitting on the cafeteria table where she was contentedly munching on fish and chips.

Blast it. She had found Reinhardt. He was an elusive son-of-a-bitch from a rival fraternity. His team called themselves Hydra, and no one from the Sigma Sigma Rho frat, had been able to find him all week.

He was burning with curiosity to find out how she managed it, but his pride would not allow him to. So instead…

Jack: Be careful what you wish for

~.~

6:15pm

There was still no sign of Jack.

And that had her majorly worried.

Not that he would be successful at ambushing her. No, not at all.

But more so the fact, that he was no longer dancing to her tune. And she had plans, damn it.

So she stooped to fighting dirty.

~.~

6:32pm

Ding!

Jack silently cursed. He had forgotten to silence his phone, and his message alert had gotten him the attention of Mrs. Frye. He didn't need her noticing him in the general area of the roof access. Daniel had been banned from the library this week for his repeated unauthorized use, and she knew that he was Daniel's teammate in this 'wretched' game.

He let out a not so silent curse that earned him Mrs. Frye's evil eye.

Peggy's latest pic message was gloating, ominous, and erotic all rolled into one.

It was of Peggy sandwiched between two cheerleaders, both of whom had white splatters across their chests, two to be exact. (He let out a little groan at the mental picture of her sighting down the barrel, carefully aiming at each of their breasts and…). And the pic's caption was: Gotcha

Shit. He didn't know which of those girls had had him as a target. But it didn't matter. She was coming for him.

~.~

7:31pm

Peggy: staking out my tea suppliers? Clever

Peggy: but unfortunately for you I am just as lucky with the campus guards as Howard is

Jack: lucky?

Jack: first cheerleaders, now guards. You do get around.

Peggy: Ew. No.

Peggy: they make great getaway drivers and spies tho

Peggy: I'll enjoy marking you as mine in pretty white paint

Her fantasy of smearing that paint all across his sweaty chest as he writhed underneath her was interrupted first by his response: not if Daniel marks you first

And then by a sharp sting as a paintball splattered against her shoulder – bruising her right shoulder just above her other one. Son-of-a-bloody-bitch.

She managed to duck behind a park bench and dodge the next shot, and the next when she made it to the relative safety of a tree.

She knew three things when she managed to make it to the next tree as well. One, Daniel was herding her. He was too good of a shot to keep missing her like this. Two, he was herding her towards the plaza outside the drama auditorium where the guards had told her that Jack had been loitering about for the past few hours (her favorite tea cart was there). And three, Daniel was not protecting Ramirez anymore.

Neither of the cheerleaders that she had shot this afternoon had had Jack. She didn't know who did. Neither had they had Ramirez, but they were roommates with one of the Council members, and they had seen the alert on her computer that Jack had completed the transfer of keeper-ship to Ramirez, which he had attempted to do earlier this week.

So in between dodging purposely half-assed potshots, she texted the rest of her team: bait taken. Operation Get Ricky is a go.

~.~

7:37.15 pm

Peggy found herself once more crouching behind some garbage bins.

But unlike the ones that she had taken refuge from when on the run from Dottie, these ones had been recently emptied, so with each jarring shot that Jack fired at her, the more they rattled and threatened to tip over.

She thought she was done for, as Jack had far better coverage behind the plaza's sundial which had much broader and certainly more unmovable base.

She knew she was done for though, when Jack's perfectly coiffed hair became marred by paint that was much darker than her own.

She tracked the angle of the shot and knew that from that trajectory it could only have come from a sniper on the auditorium roof. A sniper who had a perfect angle on her and all of her stolen and captured flags.

And she had no way of finding cover.

~.~

7:37.46 pm

One second, Jack was making those ridiculous trash cans dance. The next, his brains were rattling around the inside of his head and his hair dripping wet goo.

But the angle was all wrong. At least for him to be hit by Peggy.

Later, Jack would chalk up what he did to his head injury.

But all Jack knew in that moment, the moment that he realized that the bastard who had shot him was going to get Peggy too, he just knew that he could not let that happen. He had to get to her. He had to make sure she kept all her hard-won flags.

And so he found himself vaulting over the sun-dial, barreling into the trash cans, knocking Carter to the ground, and covering her with his body.

~.~

7:38.21 pm

And improbably, the way the trash cans fell offered more coverage from the sniper than they had when upright.

And while they lay there, panting and waiting for campus security to clear the bastard off the roof like they had been doing Daniel all week, Peggy looked up at him from beneath her dark lashes, her eyes wide with …some indiscernible emotion at least to him.

When there was a break in the shooting, she leaned up and kissed his cheek, whispering, "Thank you, Jack. I'll get the bloody – "

He yanked her back against him so hard that it knocked the breath out of her, hissing, "Stay the bloody hell down! Your vets matter more."

She stayed down, and she only moved when she dug out her phone.

And for some bizarre reason, this made him far happier than it should have. He didn't even get all that miffed when he learned from both her and Ramirez that Stark's Brit buddy, Daniel's bowling buddy, and that lab-rat Samberly had taken him out and captured their flag – a vial of grade A Hollywood fake blood.

"For someone who just lost a bet, you sure are smiling a lot."

He looked down at her and drawled, "Well, sweetheart, no matter which of us won, I am still guaranteed a romping good time."

"Oh, you have no idea," she promised huskily.

~A~

Saturday Morning

Jack woke stiff and sore and mostly for the right reasons.

Peggy had made good on her promises.

His wrists burned from the chafing he had gotten from her silver handcuffs.

His thighs and legs, from the rope she had used to demonstrate her skill with restraints.

His skin prickled still from where she did body shots off of him with Tequila, salt, and lime.

Or perhaps it was from where she smeared white paint all over his chest as she rode him into her completion again and again and again, while keeping him on perpetual edge until the very last.

Jack woke to find her gone. No rope, no Tequila, no handcuffs. No sign that she had ever been there other than the marks on his body.

Especially the white paint handprints and the smear that read MINE.