Note: Go to my profile. There is a section dedicated to this fanfiction. Read it please. Enjoy.
James walked down the drive toward the waiting minibus. There were a surprising number of people present. Because every CHERUB valued the few hours of recreation outside campus, there was always a queue for the numerous minibuses. However, that night was a Friday evening, and most Cherubs stayed on campus on a Friday night simply to unwind and socialize, and also to plan their activities after their Saturday morning lessons. No Cherub wanted to turn up to a lesson tired or drunk, especially on a Saturday because the Cherub teachers had developed a habit of picking Saturday mornings as the day to be very strict. For normal kids, Saturday mornings represented lazy mornings but for Cherubs they were the worst part of the week.
James stopped walking and frowned. No one had seen him yet. He could turn round and walk back to his room. He felt a twinge of wistfulness as he saw numerous Cherubs shouting and laughing, having fun. They seemed totally content with life. He saw Michael and Gabrielle, bodies as close as the law would allow when in public, having a conversation with Kerry, Bruce, Shakeel and the twins Callum and Connor. There was a girl standing with them that James had seen around campus but he didn't know her very well. Was she a new addition to the group? To the side a bit, he could see his sister Lauren with her best friend Bethany, Greg Rathbone a.k.a Rat and Andy Lagan, the kid he had punched a couple of years previously. Their minibus could be seen in the distance, coming closer. James let out a breath. Now or never.
He put his hands into his trouser pockets and made his way toward his friends. He felt weird. He didn't like it. These were his friends. If he didn't feel comfortable with them then who else was left for him in the world? CHERUB was his life, literally. These few teenagers made up the people most precious to him under the sun. He had grabbed a flat, straight beaked NY cap on his way out of his room. The beak was pulled over his eyes. His friends couldn't identify him from the clothes he was wearing since he used to wear jeans or trackies most of the time. He was only a few feet from them before Lauren recognised him.
"James!" Lauren shouted. "I was just about to call you, you're late."
James winced slightly. He was sure Lauren had shouted on purpose. "Sorry," he said softly. "I got held up with a few things." Maybe it was another side effect of his almost solitary lifestyle on campus but James had come to respect silence and calm. His Kendo and martial arts added to that too.
"James!" Bruce said with a smile on his face. "I didn't know you were coming."
"She emotionally blackmailed me," James replied gesturing toward Lauren. Bruce's smile grew.
"Why am I not surprised?" Bruce asked. "Listen mate, have you met my g- my new friend Cleo?" Bruce smoothly covered up his near slip of the tongue. James smiled inwardly. Cleo was of average height, slim, had black hair, hazel eyes, a long nose that was dotted with cute pale freckles, had a mouth with full lips and perfect white teeth.
"No, I don't believe I have." James extended his hand and Cleo shook it. She had a firm grip that was belied by her looks. James automatically found himself sizing her up as an opponent. She could be very dangerous. For fighters, especially agents, appearances helped as much as skill. "Is Cleo short from Cleopatra?" James asked. "Yiá sas. Me léne James Adams. Hérome yia tin gnorimía." Hello. My name is James Adams. Pleased to meet you.
Cleo's eyes lit up at James' fluent Greek. "Milás eliniká?" she asked excitedly. You speak Greek? Even though Cherubs studied languages, actually fluently mastering one to the point of sounding like it was your native tongue took years. Very few Cherubs managed it. It seemed, however, that James had managed it.
James laughed. "Mia glosa den ine pote arketi," he said with a smile. One language is never enough. Cleo smiled at that.
"It's finally good to meet you too, James," Cleo said. She had a very nice accent. She spoke fluent English with a hint of her Greek ancestry. James could understand why Bruce had gone for her. The way she spoke was sexy, to put it bluntly. James turned to Bruce and for a second there was a look of concentration on his face. James understood at once what was going on. The poor sod had been learning Greek to try and bag Cleo. He probably used the old "I need help studying" routine on her. It never fails, James thought.
"Since when did you speak Greek?" Bruce asked.
"A short while now," James answered vaguely with a non-committal shrug.
"Maybe you could have asked your friend James here for extra-tuition?" Cleo asked with a teasing smile. Bruce blushed slightly and looked away. James' smiled at Cleo and the two shared a knowing glance. By this time the minibus had arrived. James exchanged short greetings with the rest of his friends as they got on the minibus. Dana's death had finally become accepted fact and so James managed to find himself having normal conversations. As usual, Kerry's attitude toward him was quite cool, but not unfriendly. Seating down, he looked out of the window and thought back to the day a few months back when Bruce and Kerry had broken up.
xxx
James held his metal fencing sword in his right hand. The one thing about being an agent was not to rely solely on one hand. James was naturally left-handed, but he had trained himself to be ambidextrous. At some points he actually forgot which hand was his natural one. James was wearing his Kendo armour, both because it was a requirement of training and because it would have been suicide not to. Usually when practising Kendo or Kenjutsu, wooden shinai and bokken were used – shinai for actual combat practise and bokken for learning and practising kata. This meant that experienced swordsmen and swordswomen could practise with their shinai and bokken without wearing the Kendo armour. But as usual Madame Takada, the CHERUB Martial Arts sensei, had thought of something to make training more sinister. The metal shinai and bokken used in Kenjutsu (Sword techniques) training were made from a cheap alloy of several metals that made the product very dense. The shinai James was currently holding, which should have weighed only a few hundred grams if it were wooden instead added an extra ten kilogram weight to James' sparring armour, armour which was called Bógu. The four metal staves of the shinai were tied together with thick leather bands that looked like they had seen better days. People would be surprised to find that these bands were only a few weeks old. James was a fencing fan of both eastern and western practises. He regularly came to the dojo to clash swords with a few of the other Kendoka or with Madame Takada herself. He practised western fencing with his fellow students in Kazakov's after- lessons class.
James brought his shinai above his head, his left hand moving up so that the pommel of the shinai touched lightly against his left palm. He suddenly gave a shout. As he did so, his left hand grasped the pommel firmly, his right foot stepped forward (in a motion that was similar to stamping and called fumikomi-ashi) and he swung down, using his wrists to give extra speed and strength to the blow. James' masked opponent blocked the blow and gave lightning fast riposte, which James barely managed to block. The fight continued like this, with James' attacks growing stronger and faster as James gained more confidence. After fifteen minutes of non-stop sparring, in which James and his opponent seemed to be gliding across the floor, their movements silent and the only noise being that of their clashing shinai, James' opponent moved in a blur that James was barely able to see. He found his hands empty as his shinai flew across the bamboo floor of the dojo and a moment later he felt a cold metal shinai resting against his collarbone. James' opponent moved a step back, allowing James to bow and concede defeat.
"You have improved since last week," Madame Takada said as she removed her mask. She spoke in Japanese because she knew James was fluent in the language. This had surprised her when she found out because she knew that Japanese was among the hardest of languages to learn. She knew people who had lived in Tokyo for years and still hadn't quite grasped it.
"Thank you, sensei," James replied. He bowed again and moved away from Madame Takada.
"Got your arse handed to you." James' mate Bruce said with a smile. "Again." James shrugged and walked past Bruce toward the changing rooms. Other Kendoka joined them as their much less intense sparring matches finished. James' reaction always amazed Bruce. James had always had a competitive streak in him, which had been very blatant when he joined CHERUB, and yet losing in these matches never seemed to bother him. Sure enough, Madame Takada had over half a century of martial arts skill and experience, but still he'd expected James to be put out a bit. Bruce followed James and together they took off their Bógu, put on their own clothes and replaced their Bógu in the wardrobe. Some unfortunate person would later be punished for some misdemeanour and told to clean them. It was never a pretty sight.
It was morning and lessons would begin in an hour. The boys made their way to the mess hall to get some breakfast. They sat down on a table, one of the few people in the mess hall.
"So what's up?" James asked.
"What do you mean?" Bruce answered with a confused expression on his face. James looked at him with an expression that said, "Cut the crap."
"I broke up with Kerry last night," Bruce finally said with a deflated sigh. James looked down at his food and started eating. Bruce would tell him everything when he felt like it.
"We had a fight," Bruce explained. "…About you." James stopped eating and looked up at his friend. "She started having a go about you and … I don't know. I guess I just snapped. I mean, you've apologized like a million times and you told her you don't expect you two to be best buds anymore, and me and Kerry were … you know, seemed to be finally getting down and dirty. She just exploded, which shocked me because it was the last thing I expected. I exploded back. After a few months together I'd thought she'd have forgotten about what happened between you two and moved on. I guess I was wrong." Bruce gave a little chuckle that had no amusement in it whatsoever.
"That was very noble of you," James remarked. "Noble, but stupid. You were about to get some and you decided to stick by me? I thought you knew better."
Bruce smiled and started picking at his food with a fork. "I know," he said. "I thought I knew better as well. But we would have broken up anyway. I think it's because we know each other too well. We're both each other's oldest friend. Takes away the magic when you know someone too well, I think."
"Sorry, mate," James said with true sincerity. He felt bad that his relationship with Bruce had caused Bruce to lose his first true girlfriend. James knew what Bruce was going through. To James, even when he started being a CHERUB, there always seemed to be a connection between Bruce and Kerry. He hadn't been surprised when they started going out. He'd felt jealous, even though he was going out with Dana. That kind of deep connection was rare. But he'd finally achieved his own deep link with Dana. He had been inconsolable when she'd died. Being an orphan with very few close friends, losing someone like Dana had been a devastating loss.
Bruce just shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
"I owe you a girl," James mused, trying to cheer Bruce up and make amends for his mistakes as well. "And I could help you to easily get one." Bruce blinked.
"I don't think many girls go for the scrawny look," he joked.
"Trust me my friend," James said with a secret smile. "You're a smart Cherub, amazingly physically fit and quite cool. You consign yourself to obscurity too much. Strut your stuff mate and the women will be eating out of your hands."
xxx
The minibus dropped off the Cherubs in the city centre. It was just after six but the sky was already dark. The British weather was already in full swing. Up in the north of England it only got worse and so many people could be seen with hands under armpits or in gloves or in pockets or a combination of the three. Pockets by the armpits? There have been stranger ideas. James got out last and took in a breath of cold air. Freedom. James started following his friends as they made their way down the street. Despite the weather there was still a surprising amount of people about. But then again, Halloween was only a week away.
"What movie are we watching?" Michael asked.
"Me, Bethany, Rat and Andy are going to watch that new romantic comedy with Drew Barrymore in it," Lauren announced. James was pretty sure that Rat and Andy weren't very thrilled by that prospect. But then again, boys didn't go with girls into dark rooms to merely watch movies. These two had a game plan, just like any other boy worth his salt. For a second James thought about giving the two boys a little man-to-man chat but relented. Lauren wouldn't much appreciate that. But if he thought that things were getting out of hand … well, in an environment like CHERUB's it was very easy to accidentally break a few bones.
"Me and Michael were thinking of watching Atonement," Gabrielle said.
"Isn't that a book by Ian McEwan?" Cleo asked with curious eyes.
"Yep," Michael said nodding. "Gab lent it to me a few weeks ago. It's quite good. I just hope the movie's not a complete deviation like most of the movies these days. Enduring Love was quite good."
"I watched that," Cleo said with a smile. "I thought it was good too."
"Do you want to come watch Atonement?" Gabrielle asked.
"Please," Cleo said with a nod.
"Bruce? Kerry? James?" Michael asked. Michael was a solidly built guy and had a silent air about him. It always seemed to make him harder than he actually was. Make no mistake, he was a good fighter, but he was also quite gentle. But the thought of Michael Hendry getting into sappy British movies like Atonement and Enduring Love was too much to handle.
"No, thanks," Shakeel said with a slight grimace on his face. "Me and the twins are gonna go watch Die Hard 4."
"I'll come," Kerry said. "I liked the book for Atonement."
"Yeah, why not," Bruce said. It was at this point James realised that he was the only one left who hadn't given an opinion. He shrugged to indicate he didn't mind. The group was by now at the cinema. They got into the queue for the movie. Good British movies always attracted a crowd. After people found out the next James Bond was going to be in Enduring Love, the movie attracted quite a crowd. This movie had Keira Knightley and James McAvoy in it. It was great tribute to British movies. The guys bought their tickets with no problem but as James neared the counter, the revolving doors moved and a few teenagers walked in. They were all dressed in blue jeans, Fred Perry jackets and white trainers. Chavs. One of them moved toward the counter and pushed roughly past James and stood next to Kerry. He was quite handsome, in a rough sort of way.
"Hey," he said to her. "What movie are you watching?" Kerry blinked and turned to look at him. She smirked.
"You wouldn't like it," Kerry said. "It's a girly type movie." The guy shrugged and put his hand around Kerry's shoulder.
"I don't mind," he said with a cheeky smile and that particular accent all chavs seem to have.
"Yeah, whatever," Kerry said as she pulled his hand off. The guy smiled and bought four tickets, three for him and his two friends and one for Kerry. The woman gave him the tickets and then placed a "No Available" sign on top of the counter. The guy had just bought the last ones. Kerry looked at the ticket in her hand and smiled.
"Well, aren't you going to buy me popcorn?" The chav smiled and the two made their way to where all the confectionaries were. It was five minutes later when everyone was on their way to watch the movie that Bruce noticed something.
"Hey, where's James?" Bruce asked. They all looked around, and even went back to the entrance, but James was nowhere to be seen.
Xxx
James walked down the high street. Quite a few shops were open, all of them having some kind of supposedly scary Halloween paraphernalia. James sighed. He didn't feel like he belonged anymore. Society seemed so … passé. And yet James found himself craving it. He wanted to be out with friends and family, shopping and having fun. Tonight would have been that, except those three chavs turned up. He had seen the glint in that chav's eyes. He didn't want to be anywhere near when the shit hit the fan, as Eminem so eloquently put it. James found himself wondering farther from the city centre until he found himself in a quiet area interspersed with pubs. He saw one by the corner of a street, a blue neon sign pulsing softly. A blues bar. James headed toward it.
The bar, as expected, was thick with the smell of cigars, despite the fact that smoking inside public places was now against the law. James went as sat on a stool by the bar.
"What will you be having?" a thirty-something barmaid asked huskily as she eyed James up. She couldn't see much from under the cap but the kid seemed old enough. There was a hardness about him that made her uneasy.
"Large triple whiskey, on the rocks," James replied gruffly. "Large ice cubes if you have them please." The bar maid went and got his drink. Only a true connoisseur of whiskey would know to have large ice cubes as they melted slower than normal ice cubes. A kid couldn't possibly understand that. James got his drink and took a mouthful, swirled it around his mouth before swallowing.
"Nice," he commented. "Irish? Decade or so?"
The barmaid nodded and smiled. "You know your whiskey," she commented. James shrugged. He looked around the bar. As expected, lots of men and women were drinking separately and there was a shortage of pairs. Any couple with sense would have been at home or in a much more comfortable place.
"Can I have a cigar as well?" James asked. The barmaid hesitated momentarily before handing two over the counter. James gave her a fifty pound note and told her to keep the change in reserve. He had a feeling he would be sampling more of the bar's pleasures. The bar was really blue, pardon the pun. James felt like a bit of revelry. As usual, whiskey gave him a fire in his belly. He looked at the small stage by the west wall. There were a set of drums, a cello, a double bass, a piano, two guitars (one an acoustic six string and the other an electric twelve string), an amplifier, wah-wah pedals and a whole bunch of other small equipment that James saw could be used for sound distortion and reverb/delay.
James turned to the barmaid. "Why is no one using the stage?" he asked.
The barmaid shrugged. "We used to have a bunch of blues musicians come in and play some slow music. Really gave the place atmosphere. Now they're all drunks and smokers. Their own music depressed them. They're by that table in the back." James looked and was surprised by what he saw. He had always been open-minded when it came to music. That was why on his iTunes or Windows Media Player you could see Bob Marley next to Bow Wow next to Bullet for My Valentine next to Busta Rhymes, and so on. He knew those blues artists by that table. A decade or so ago they had been the leaders of the blues movement in Britain. They had been bringing blues back to the world. They really could have been the next Elvis Presley in terms of renown. Even in America, the birthplace of famous blues music, they had been known and respected.
"Is that Blind Dead McJones?" James asked, his surprise and awe evident.
The barmaid gave a throaty laugh. "Don't call him that. He hates it."
"Why?" James asked.
"It's an old story in this bar. That nickname was a joke between him and his mates when they were growing up. They used to mock blues music and all the depressing names the musicians seemed to have. He got stuck with Blind Dead McJones. When he got into blues music, really started to believe in it, he stopped using the nickname. But the papers did a little digging and by the time his first album was about to come out everyone knew it. He used the publicity and released all of his albums under that name. But he still hates it." James laughed. You'd never suspect things like this.
"Would it be alright if I played something?" James asked.
"Do you know how to play?" the barmaid asked suspiciously. James nodded. She shrugged. "Knock yourself out mate."
James smiled, took his glass of whiskey, cigar and ashtray to the stage. A few people looked at him but he ignored them. He placed his stuff on the piano top and sat down on a stool. He took up the twelve string guitar and put it in his lap. After looking around he found the right implement and removed the six G string. He turned it carefully and strummed it a bit to make sure it was just right. He carefully placed this aside and did the same thing to the acoustic. It stayed in his lap.
"Hi," James said to the small bar. He frowned, rummaged round the stage before he found the correct plug and switched on the equipment on the stage. He sat back down.
"Hi," he said again. This time the old microphone and speakers worked. "My name is James." No one said anything. They all just looked at him from drunken or depressed stupors, mostly a combination of the two. "I am a blues fan. I've written a couple instrumental pieces but I've never played them in public. It will be my birthday on Halloween so please, be nice." James smiled at the crowd. A few of them gave a harsh laugh. "I call this piece "Drifting". I wrote it just after my mum died and my half sister Lauren and I were orphaned. Her dad was a prick, to be blunt. He's in prison now, for child abuse. Back then I felt … lost, really. I felt like I was drifting through life without anyone but my sister to keep me moored safely. I wrote this piece as a tribute to her."
James started playing. Maybe it was the whiskey and the cigar, but he felt completely unafraid. He had only ever shown his musical talent to three people. his sister and Dana. It was a private thing he only shared with very close people. The third person had been his mum. James strummed softly but boldly, his hands hitting the wood of the guitar rhythmically, giving the song a unique quality. He didn't use a pick but after years of strumming like that, the skin on his fingers had hardened. Four minutes later, James finished. He used the beginning of the piece for the end as well, maybe symbolising his attachment to the old, to Lauren. He put the guitar aside and took a few sips of his whiskey. He put the glass away and looked at the silent crowd. They were all paying rapt attention, their own troubles momentarily forgotten.
"What else have you got?" James looked at the speaker. It was Blind Dead McJones.
"I only have one other instrumental piece, but it's nearly fifteen minutes long."
"Play it."
James shrugged and picked up the twelve string guitar. He strummed it experimentally. "I wrote this a couple of years ago. The shock of losing my mum had passed but I still felt lost. I wrote this as part of a set I called "Searching for Heritage". Most of the songs in that set are mainly environmental, mainly because my sister Lauren is an environmentalist herself and I wanted to make people online, where I publish my music on a website called AUTHEARTH under the name Durza II, but this one was the one piece that was truly personal to me. I call it "Ocean"."
James started playing. He had plugged in the amplifier, the distortion and reverb/delay instruments, the wah-wah pedals and of course the microphone was one. The twelve string guitar had a natural chorus effect but all these things helped. The first seven or so minutes of the piece were relatively slow, but coming into the eights minute James started to speed up, using his instruments more and more. The song built up to a crescendo, James shaking his head as all the emotions he had felt when he composed it came rushing back to him. This only leant the music more and more power. James suddenly slowed down, things calm again. For a minute or two he played sedately, and then he sped up again for half a minute before suddenly stopping. The piece was at an end. He placed the guitar aside and downed his whiskey. He looked at the audience. They were silent for a few seconds before they all suddenly exploded into applause. James smiled and thanked them. The barmaid came up to the stage with a tray filled with three large triple whiskeys on the rocks. James went and sat by the piano.
"Wanna jam?"
James looked round in surprise. It was Blind Dead McJones. He smiled and nodded.
xxx
The movies were over and the Cherubs who had gone to the cinema were outside.
"Where's James?" Lauren asked.
"Who's James?" Rob, the chav, asked. He had his arm around Kerry but she didn't pull it off. "Is he that geek I pushed out of the way?"
"My brother, yeah," Lauren said, sparing the chav a dirty look. Rob ignored it.
"Have you tried calling him?" Bruce asked. "Or texting him?"
Lauren nodded. "Yeah. He's not even answering his other phone."
"What other phone?" Kerry asked with furrowed brows.
"His emergency phone," Lauren replied absently. "He's got two mobiles, a normal one and one that only a few people know. He always answers that phone because he told me to only call it when I was in trouble. Bruce?"
Bruce shook his head. "Nothing," he said as he pulled his phone away from his ear.
"Never mind him," Rob said. "He can catch up with you later. Let's go bowling." It took a few more minutes but finally the large group went bowling.
Xxx
Three hours later, James walked back into the city centre, tipsy but still very much in control. It took a lot to get him drunk. He walked into a few shops, looking at what was on sale and even buying a few stuff. It was mainly Halloween stuff and some stuff for himself. After all, he hadn't spent any money for a long time so his coffers were quite full. He bought quite a few books on advanced electronics, some hardware and software, and spent a hundred quid on a catalogue that detailed all the breakthroughs and theories of the past year. As he walked toward the bowling arena, he noticed a crowd of people by a shopping centre. He made his way there and saw heavy police presence as well as a few ambulances.
"What's going on?" he asked another bystander.
"Some lunatics have taken the centre hostage," a fat middle aged woman said. A toddler was standing beside her. He had snot coming out of his nose but neither he nor his mother seemed to care. "The police are trying to talk them down but the guys are complete psychos! They have already shot one woman. The police are trying to get the woman released so she can get medical attention. The kidnappers are demanding money in exchange for the release of the woman within the next half an hour or it will be too late for the woman then. I heard a few SAS men were coming in from a compound near by but they won't be here for another hour."
"Cheers," James said faintly. He was thinking to himself. He had SAS training, more so than most Cherubs. Cherubs only went on SAS exercises when forced to. He had volunteered for a few years now. He had spent a year's worth of SAS training during his Cherub career, spending weeks at Hereford, Hagdyke, compounds in Welsh mountains and in down under Australia. He had even spent a whole month with retired SAS guys like Andy McNab and Chris Ryan studying modern warfare, counter-intelligence, interrogation and counter-interrogation techniques. He was thinking if he could save these people. It would be the perfect time to test some of his devices. He hesitated. This might be termed reckless and endangering CHERUB security. But he knew he could help those people in there. He sighed. He hated moral dilemmas.
xxx
James was crawling through a sewer. He knew there was no way to get past the security cordon so he'd opted for a more dubious route. In his right hand he held a battered old laptop he'd bought for thirty quid from a second hand shop. He'd taken off his clothes and bought cheap and baggy second hand ones; a pair of trackies, boots, an Arsenal FC t-shirt and a jacket with a hood. He checked the laptop. He had downloaded the GPS technology on his iPod onto the laptop. There was a map of the sewer systems and he could see a bleeping red dot that represented him. He was nearly there. He walked for a few minutes until he came up to his entry point. Above him would be the basement of a JJB. He climbed up the metal rungs and had to force the lid open very hard. No one was in sight. He climbed through and put the lid back on, hard. He wanted to disguise his tracks. He wouldn't be coming out this way.
He had to assume these kidnappers had access to all of the CCTV cameras. He sat down on a bow filled with trainers and opened his laptop again. He connected his iPod using a USB lead. The screen on his iPod went black. A single white box was in the middle. James pressed the menu button three times, the fast forward twice; the pause/play three times and held the middle button for five seconds. The iPod's screen went black but the laptop's screen changed completely. He was now interfacing his iPod and all of its advanced software, courtesy of CHERUB. He took a few minutes to hack into the airwave frequency of the internet connection used by the chopping centre. It took a further ten minutes to hack into the CCTV control centre. Most centres had them now, what with all the terrorism going on. He now had a live feed of what was going on, which was all he could afford. Any more, like disbanding some of the cameras, would make the kidnappers paranoid and overreact. He studied what he saw for fifteen minutes before coming up with a plan. It was dodgy but it might just work.
He hacked into the frequencies again, but this time he connected to the PA system. He took out his mobile's earphones which had hands free on them and connected them to the laptop.
"This is Inspector Zhivago," he said in a foreign accent. "The money is on its way. But please, take care of the woman until it does. There is a medical kit inside the JJB store." He cut off and watched the CCTV. The kidnappers were arguing about what to do, but finally two of the five started toward the store. JJB was on the other side of the centre. It would take about five minutes of slow walking to get there and a further five to walk back with the heavy kit. That gave him a ten minute window to act. James quickly wiped his prints off the laptop before wiping the hard disk and then any other back up memory on the computer. He replaced all of his gear and started jogging toward the foyer, where all the hostages were being held. He purposefully staggered to the hand railing so that people would see him.
"Hey!" one of the kidnappers shouted. "Get down here!" James pretended to be high and scared. He turned round and made a run for it. As expected, one of the men came after him. That made three of them away from the hostages. The kidnappers were in contact with each other using walkie talkies. He knew he had perhaps a few minutes before the three had him cornered. He held his watch up to his face and started to fiddle with the timer. The sensors activated and the watch started buzzing as it detected all of the CCTV equipment trained on him. He kept on running. His watch suddenly stopped buzzing and he immediately stopped running. He looked around. He was just outside a medical supplies shop. He could see why there were no CCTV cameras here. The demonstrations of the equipment being sold would have shorted out the cameras. Medical equipment generated very powerful electromagnetic fields. He went into the shop, set up his plan and waited.
Five minutes later three pairs of footsteps came near.
"Where did the fucker go?" one voice growled.
"Oh man, I don't like this," another said.
"Stop your whining," a third said. "The money is nearly here. All five million pounds." James made a deliberate move. "Hey, I heard something!" The three made their way into the shop and started looking around. It took them only a minute to find James' curled up form.
"God," the first man growled. "This chav must be in high heaven." The other two laughed harshly and prodded James. The kid smelt of smoke and alcohol.
"Kids these days," the second man said. James put on a show of waking up.
"Where … where … am … I?" he stuttered.
"In hell," the first man growled and kicked James hard. James doubled over. "Now get up and come with us." As James groggily got up, he "accidentally" pushed the ON button for the machine he was propping himself against. The machine whirred and came to life.
"What the fuck!" the first voice growled just before the powerful electromagnet of the MRI was activated and every metal thing in the room was pulled toward it. The man had been carrying assault rifles with slings around their shoulders. They also had knives strapped onto their thighs. One of them had a heavy metal watch. James had taken off his. All this made the men sitting ducks. They were lifted off the ground and made the short journey to the hard and unforgiving metal shell of the MRI. They were knocked unconscious immediately. James didn't turn the machine off. It was all that was keeping these three occupied.
He ran back to the foyer, his watch back on. It took him longer as he tried to avoid being caught on camera. He didn't want to warn the remaining two that he was on his way. It took his ten minutes of navigating but he finally made it. He looked round the corner into the foyer. He nearly had to stop himself gasping. One of the men was standing a mere two feet away from him. The other was just by the hundred or so hostages, shouting into a phone. James knew he had just found out about the fake call from Inspector Zhivago. It was now or never. James stepped round the corner. He had been tinkering with his watch's winder and now he felt it softly come off. He pulled at it and it extended, twine glinting against the artificial lights from the ceiling. James pulled at the winder to get more twine and then suddenly put it round the man's neck and pulled back with both hands, hard. The man choked and dropped his assault rifle, which made a few of the hostages look round. James ignored them and concentrated on the job at hand. The man was strong and older than him, but James had the element of surprise. The man couldn't reach James and couldn't pull off such thin twine. It was a losing fight. It took a minute but finally the man was unconscious. James replaced his winder back into his watch, the twine going with it. He picked up the assault rifle.
The hostages had gone quiet now, watching his with disbelieving eyes. Could their rescuer be so young? They didn't dare make a sound. The leader was still on the phone.
"I want that money here in five minutes or ten children die!" the man shouted with finality before hanging up. He turned around to talk to his adjutant but froze when he saw the chav from earlier pointing a rifle at him, his stance relaxed and deadly. He looked down and saw his adjutant on the floor, unconscious. He looked back up.
"That was a mistake," he said softly.
"Put the gun down," James replied just as softly. The man hesitated as he looked at James. This kid was what, sixteen? He didn't have it in him to kill someone. He took a chance and started to raise his rifle. James fired. The leader's assault rifle buckles in the leader's hands as James' shot hit it in the butt. The leader froze.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked. "We could make a deal. I'll give you a share of the money, if you like."
"I'm nobody," James replied. He smiled as he thought of the story of Odysseus and Polyphemus. Odysseus had taunted a blinded Polyphemus by calling himself nobody. This guy had no idea who he was, not even what he looked like, and yet he was losing control of the situation. "And I don't make deal with a man who's prepared to kill innocent bystanders. You're way too crude for my tastes."
"How dare you!?" the man shouted as he brought his assault rifle up. James shot him in the shoulder and once again the man's rifle hung loose around his neck, by its straps. The man gave a cry but he was determined. He used his left hand to try and point the weapon at a toddler. James shot him in the other shoulder, and then in both thighs.
"You're a slow learner, aren't you?" James asked. The hostages sat there, dazed, before one man realised that they were now free. He jumped up, punched the downed leader and took his assault rifle.
"Put that down, sir," James said firmly. The man was highly emotional and showed no signs of stopping. James shot him in the right shoulder. Everyone stopped and looked at James. The emotional man dropped the gun, his face white.
"Can you all please make an orderly exit," James instructed. The hostages needed no telling twice. As they stampeded toward the door, James dropped his assault rifle. He had taken some leather gloves from a shop and now he discarded them. Busy as they were trying to get to freedom, none of the hostages noticed their saviour amongst them. From then on it was easy for James to give the slip to the police. Five minutes later he was in a public toilet. He went into a cubicle and retrieved the black bin liner with all his stuff. He changed, put on his cover clothes into the bin liner and put them in a bin as he made his way toward where the CHERUB minibus would pick them up. He smiled. The first field testing of his gadgets had gone well. And he'd become a hero as well. Not bad for a night's work.
xxx
"Wanna come for a drink?" Rob asked Kerry.
"Sure," Kerry answered. "Any of you want on?" Kerry got her orders before Rob and she went to the counter to buy some.
"So how old are you?" Rob asked.
Kerry raised an eyebrow. "You stuck your tongue down my throat and you don't even know how old I am? I could have you done for paedophilia." Rob laughed and turned to pay for their drinks.
"I'm fifteen," Kerry answered.
"Just turned sixteen," the guy said with a smile. He turned to Kerry, put his hand around her neck and the two started snogging. After a minute the two slowly separated. "Want to go outside?" he asked.
"…Sure," Kerry said. "But we'd better be back quick with the drinks." Rob took her by the hand and led her out the back. They were in a dark alley, but it wasn't intimidating. Rob had her up against the wall and the two were snogging like there was no tomorrow.
"Hey, leave some for us," a voice said. Rob and Kerry broke off. Kerry looked and saw Rob's mates. Rob suddenly had her in a strong, vice like grip. Kerry knew she was in deep trouble. She couldn't break out of Rob's joint lock, which meant Rob must have some kind of combat training. Rob's two friends advanced on Kerry. One of them undid his belt.
"Looks like I'm losing my virginity tonight," he smiled. Rob and the other two laughed. Kerry started to scream but Rob slapped her, hard.
"Make this easier," he spat harshly. Kerry had to fight tears.
xxx
"Hey, where are our drinks?" Lauren asked. She looked around but couldn't see the Kerry or Rob. She saw Rob's two friends slipping out of a back door.
"Rob and Kerry went to get them," Gabrielle said. She looked at her watch. "We should be leaving now. The minibuses will be here soon."
"OK," Michael said and got up. "Let's go separate those two loves birds." With various amounts of groaning, the Cherubs got up and followed the path Rob's friends had taken. As they spilled into the alley, the sight before them left the Cherubs speechless. Kerry's jacket was off, her top torn, showing a pink bra strap. Rob and his friends turned to look at them.
"Fuck off," he said menacingly. The Cherubs tensed. "Don't try anything funny or the chink gets it," Rob added as he took out a switch blade. It was a shoddy piece of work, but at the end of the day it could still kill Kerry. The Cherubs knew it.
"Leave Kerry alone!" Gabrielle screamed. Michael had to hold her back.
"And miss the fun? I don't think so." Rob and his friends chuckled.
"How can you do that to a woman?" Michael asked with obvious disgust.
"Like this," Rob said and licked Kerry's cheek. Lauren and the younger Cherubs shuddered.
"Let her go before I knock all the teeth out of your mouth, mate," Bruce said, his eyes cold. Rob and his friends looked at his with hate. They didn't appreciate being mocked like that.
"Or what, scrawny?" Rob's friend Paul said. "What are you going to do?" Bruce took a step forward but Cleo held him back.
"Please, Bruce," she said. "They'll hurt Kerry."
Paul appraised Cleo. "Come here," he said, his thoughts evident by his smile. Cleo hesitated before slowly walking forward.
"Let Kerry go," she said. She had underestimated how fast the boys could move though because in the next instant she found Paul's iron grip around her wrist. She tried to pull away but he was simply stronger than her.
"Two girls equal twice the fun," Rob grinned as he started to back away from the Cherubs.
"Indeed." Rob stopped in shock as he heard the voice come from only a metre behind him. He turned around in panic and found that kid from earlier, James, looking at him with a calm expression. Rob's expression turned into derision.
"Fuck off or your chinky girlfriend gets it!"
"There is no need to be racist," James said as if telling a toddler off. Rob didn't appreciate it one bit. He pressed the switch blade to Kerry's neck. James suddenly blurred forward and Rob cried out as his nose was broken. His grip on Kerry slackened even as his grip on his switch blade tightened. The brain had prioritized which action was more valuable for self-preservation. Kerry, even in her panicked state, managed to take advantage and slip away. Paul's grip on Cleo didn't slacken, but he was distracted and that was all Bruce needed. A few key hits and Paul was on the ground with a broken wrist.
"I hate people like you," James said conversationally. Carrier bags were around his feet and so he moved forward to give himself space. He looked at the Cherubs. "Go. I'll take care of this."
"We can't leave you with these lunatics," Michael protested.
"We should go," Bruce said to Michael. "We can file a report later, once Kerry and Cleo have been looked at."
"I'm not leaving James," Lauren said firmly. James shrugged and turned back to Rob.
"As I was saying, I hate people like you. You take what you want from society, which is alright for some, I guess," James said. "But the problem is you lack finesse, subtlety. There are so many things you could have done to convince Kerry here to go with you. Wouldn't it have been more satisfying if she came of her free will? But you just couldn't keep it in your trousers long enough to be patient."
"James, what are you saying?" Lauren demanded angrily.
"I always knew he was a weirdo," Bethany commented.
James shrugged. "Sociopaths get off on it. I'm just talking basic psychology. I recognised Rob's face at the cinema. He was in the newspapers a few months ago. He raped five girls from his school but all he got for it was community service and a parole officer. He's a classic sociopath. He disregards other people's suffering. I'm guessing his two friends just came along for the ride."
"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Gabrielle demanded as she consoled Kerry.
James blinked and then shrugged. "To be honest I didn't think Kerry would be stupid enough to get into such a situation after only meeting the guy. And of course there were all of you. Also, I might have forgotten," James added as an afterthought.
"Forgotten!" Gabrielle exploded.
"Why didn't you answer your mobiles?" Lauren asked. James blinked.
"I turned them off. I was … busy."
"Doing what?" Gabrielle demanded. James shrugged in a non-committal way. Gabrielle started screaming at him but Bruce forestalled her.
"Kerry is alright, and so is Cleo. That's what matters. This is none of James' fault, remember that. If he hadn't come Kerry and Cleo would be up shit's creek." That shut Gabrielle up.
"Having said that," James said, "Can we please go to the minibuses?"
"OK," Gabrielle said. "Come on Kerry, let's go." Gabrielle led Kerry away and Bruce supported Cleo.
"I'll catch up," James said. He turned to the three chavs, one who had been just standing there, hoping against hope not to be noticed. James smiled evilly.
"I don't like people who hurt my friends," James said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to make an example out of you."
xxx
Twenty minutes later James arrived at the minibus. Theirs was the last one. Gabrielle was comforting Kerry whilst Cleo's head was resting against Bruce's shoulder. Michael was reporting to the driver, a CHERUB white shirt who had come back to help work with the Winter Competitions.
"Ah, James," the guy said. His name was Mike. "Michael just told me what happened. What took you so long?"
"I had to finish up some shopping," James replied, holding up his carrier bags. Mike raised an eyebrow.
"Shopping while your friends were still in shock?"
"There was nothing I could do about it so … yeah, I went shopping." Mike opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a shout. James turned round and saw Blind Dead McJones running toward him.
"I've been looking all over town for you, kid!" McJones gasped. "I wanted to thank you. You gave me an idea for my new album! Heritage! It's genius!"
"Glad I could help," James said. "But I don't think you looked for me just to thank me."
"No," McJones said. He got out a card. "If you ever feel like playing professionally, give me a call. You have talent kid." James blinked and took the card.
"Thanks," he said.
"No problem," McJones said. "Oh, and Celia asked me to give you this." Celia was the barmaid. McJones handed him a wrapped object in a carrier bag. "She said you'd like it, whatever it is. Your music got the business booming. More customers are coming and amateur musicians will be playing every night."
"Glad I could help," James said.
"Anyways, kid, gotta go," McJones said. He shook James' hand and walked away. James shook his head, put his carrier bags in the storage compartment and got into the minibus, ignoring all the stares he was getting. He put on his earphones and started listening to his iPod. Bob Marley. Sun Is Shining. James smiled at the irony.
"Sun is shining, weather is sweat, yeah," James sang softly to himself, "Make you wanna move your dancing feet now, To the rescue, here I am…"