A/N: As always, thanks to those who found the time and sent me a review, I appreaciate it very much. Also to my great beta TangledPencils who added a scene to this chapter. Unfortunately, I caught her when she was leaving for the weekend, so she didn't have so much time for the last part of the chapter. All mistakes are mine, should there be any:-)
Anyway, here comes the action...
Fire and water
by Nicol Leoraine
Chapter 27
"Damn it to hell, what kind of an idiot boards up a door?" Kyle hissed in annoyance. He simply couldn't believe their escape had been thwarted so mundanely. Nick wasn't happy about it either, but he was too tired and achy to complain, all he could think of was that now he would have to walk up those stairs once again. He turned to retrace their steps, bumping his arm against the banister as he did so. A strangled curse fell from his lips as his right hand spasmed in response to a sharp stab of pain from his sliced arm, and he tried to awkwardly grab hold of the wound with a gun filled left hand. As the ache died down slightly, he realized they had a problem. He'd never been a good shot left handed, and the way he was feeling now, he doubted he'd be able to hit anything smaller than a tank if he tried. Quickly considering the options, he looked at Kyle assessingly.
"You ever used a gun before Kyle?" he asked.
Kyle ceased cursing at the boarded up doorway and looked at Nick.
"Yeah, I've got a 9mm at home. A friend of mine in the army taught me how to use it, and I do some target shooting at the range sometimes."
"Think you can handle this one?" Nick offered his gun to Kyle, praying he was making the right decision.
Kyle studied Nick in the light of the flashlight, noting the bloody wound on his arm, and the weariness that reflected from the CSI's eyes. Dropping his gaze to the offered gun, he slowly reached out and took it, hefting it for a moment before professionally checking the clip and the safety.
"I think so," he replied. "Can you manage the flashlight?"
Nodding in acceptance, Nick turned towards the stairs, holding the flashlight in his left hand, whilst he hugged his right arm close to his body.
'"Come on then, we'll have to go back up."
As they reached the first floor landing where they'd entered the stairwell, both men tried to be as silent as possible. Flicking the flashlight off and tucking it into his pocket, he motioned to Kyle to stay back but ready. He nodded in understanding and took up a position to cover Nick, who opened the door slightly only to jump back, the stifling heat and thick smoke pouring through the cracked door, causing them to gasp and cough and instantly reducing their ability to see each other. Nick automatically put a hand to his nose, but it wasn't much help. Closing the door, they backed away, struggling to clear their eyes and lungs of the clinging, stinging smoke. Their eyes met as they realized there was only one avenue left to them.
"Gotta go – up!" Nick managed to say before he started coughing again, eyes watering and all he could do was stumble blindly across the landing towards the steps leading to the next floor. He bumped into Kyle and almost fell, but the other man caught his arm and somehow Nick made it up to the second floor, not even sure how. His legs felt jittery and he was feeling dizzy, his throat was raw and he couldn't stop the urge to cough. The smoke lingering behind didn't help much, only to usher them out of the staircase and into the relatively smoke free but equally dangerous hall.
"What – now?" Kyle asked, his voice muffled yet to Nick it sounded too loud.
"Find the…fire escape…and hope…we get the hell out…before the Master," Nick gasped out, trying to stifle another coughing fit.
-xXxXx-
It was the confidence, the feeling of power over the others which made him reckless. He should've realized that his plans weren't working as they should the moment Jonah first disobeyed his orders, but he was so sure of himself that there was no way he would admit to himself that the biggest mistake was to bring Jonah into his plans.
He'd been a killer for several years now. Hell, he was killing before he even had the right to get a drink. Spending three years in a street gang tended to bring out the worst in people. He knifed two boys from another gang as easily as his father used to knife the deer on their hunts.
No pity. No guilt. Just the feeling of power. But he hadn't bragged about it and let another kid get all the credit. It was the luckiest decision in his life, seeing how he was arrested only a few weeks later for stealing a stupid car. But that wasn't the worst thing in his life either. Because he was given a choice…either spend the next few years in jail or join the army. It wasn't a hard choice and soon he found himself with a group of men - 'his unit' - with a target, a loaded gun and the order to kill. The feeling of power grew each time he pulled the trigger, each time a bullet found its target. He never missed.
When the 'war that wasn't a war' ended, he was back in the US, a grown and experienced man. He had a rank and a job and he was about to get a command of his own, when some idiotic member of his unit, a guy who was a second rate officer and wanting his own command, gave an official report saying that 'he enjoyed the killing just a little too much'. Then came the psychological reviews, the in depth look at all his files and someone digging into his past. It didn't take long before he was pulled off the command list and sent to some 'behind the desk job' where he wasn't a liability.
So he left. For some time, he was trying to live the 'normal' life, but he could take it only for so long before the inner need for power returned. Then he started 'taking jobs'. First just one or two in a year, then more, it depended on how much of a stir the said job made. He took 'partners' only occasionally, when there were more victims. Then when the job was over, his partner would turn up dead somewhere…or not be found at all, the body decomposing on the bottom of some lake…all the evidence pointing to him. It was easy, sometimes even fun work to do, the Master thought as he reached the top of the stairs and continued a little more carefully down the hall on the second floor.
He thought Jonah would be easy to handle, mostly because the kid's dependence on the drugs. But he was wrong and now wasn't the time to correct his mistakes, too many cops around for that. When they'd finished with Kyle Anders and that nameless CSI (the Master had to grit his teeth at the mere thought that some damned scientist could put a hitch in his plans), he would get rid of Jonah and put this whole fiasco behind him. He didn't care anymore about the fourth victim, he knew it would be insane to try and go after the woman when every cop in the city had probably managed to make the connection between the first two murders. Now he had to concentrate on the present situation, which wasn't exactly ideal either.
Though there was no fire on this floor, the hall was filled with smoke. It came from the stairs and the Master had a feeling that maybe there could be some flames licking at the floor of the room right above where the fire started. He really wasn't sure if sending Jonah to the other staircase was a smart thing to do, but he thought that the CSI would feel the need to escape a little more strongly then the need to arrest the kid. If nothing else, Jonah could act as a good sheep dog and chase the target toward him. As if in response to his thoughts, he heard a cough. Even if the man was trying to stifle the sound, it was enough to give away his position and the Master smiled evilly. Pausing, he checked his gun and rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear the tears that welled up in reaction to the smoke. He was a shooter and even if his hand was steady, he still needed to see his target.
He hefted the flashlight he'd used earlier but didn't turn it on. He wanted to use the light to blind the victim so he could easily shoot. Somewhere in front of him the man tried to stifle another cough and the Master moved.
-xXxXx-
Nick knew that given the circumstances, he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. Not with the blood loss combined with whatever fumes were mixed with the smoke from the building's insulation catching on fire, it all made him dizzy and unsteady on his legs. Even leaning against the wall, it was hard for him to tell which way was up or down. Logically, they should've run for the nearest window and whether there was a fire escape or not, just got the hell out of the building, even if it meant jumping from the second storey. But Nick didn't feel like the sharpest pin in the box at the moment and he knew that somewhere ahead of him, there were two dangerous, armed men who were bent on killing them. So instead of running blindly toward them, Nick opted for the waiting game, hoping that his feeble attempts at stifling the coughing would act like the perfect bait.
Let the hunter come to the prey.
-xXxXx-
He could practically feel the man hiding in the corner, yet he still approached slowly. It was an effort to keep his coughing at bay, the smoke was catching up with him and making his throat constrict, while his lungs protested angrily at being forced to breathe it in without a chance to force some of the smoke out. It wasn't too bad yet and he still had control over his body…something that the person ahead of him was obviously losing.
Keeping his steps light, the Master approached, ready to attack, when the coughing stopped and he heard "Now!" echoing through the hall. He tensed, his finger on the trigger automatically squeezing when the light blinded him.
-xXxXx-
Their only chance was to take whoever was coming by surprise. Though their plan was simple, it wasn't foolproof. Nick realized it the moment he heard the bullet hit the wall only inches from his head and he leapt to the left, the light dangling in his healthy hand, while he yelled at Kyle.
"Shoot him!"
No sooner left the words his mouth then two more shots were fired, each from a different gun. Nick heard a pained yelp and he reflexively turned the flashlight toward its source, only to see Kyle groping at his useless shoulder that was bleeding freely from a bullet wound. The weapon he was holding earlier was now lying somewhere on the floor, out of reach. Nick turned, the light leaving Kyle's pained form before it could be used as a target and Nick more sensed than heard the movement. He knew that blinding the Master gave him only a few seconds and Kyle was very lucky, catching a bullet in his shoulder instead of his head, just as he knew that given a chance, the next bullet would most likely end up in a much deadlier place, probably Nick's own chest. So acting on pure instinct, Nick threw the flashlight at the figure before him, aiming for the gun.
-xXxXx-
Even as the Master squeezed the trigger he knew the shot was off, but he didn't really mind, somehow he knew his real target wasn't the one blinding him with light, but someone hiding in the shadow, someone who also held a gun. There was only one place said person could be and the master took aim and fired again. He was rewarded by a pained yelp and for a second the person holding the light turned, showing him his victim. He could've shot him in that simple moment, but the light went away and the figure fell back into darkness.
Then he was distracted by the sudden movement of the beam and the trajectory it took, his finger once again squeezing the trigger aiming for the light, only to realize a little too late that it wasn't held by a person. The flashlight bounced off his arm and in the next second he felt something big collide into his midsection, pinning him to the wall. The gun was knocked out of his hand and he was left, unarmed, to fight.
-xXxXx-
Disobeying an order or not, there was no way Jonah could get past the fire and continue down the dark hall. It wasn't as much the flames itself, but the smoke. It was heavy and choking and Jonah had the feeling he would suffocate if he should stay one more minute in that damned hall. He had to go up, where there was still breathable air, where the heat wasn't making him feel like a scorched chicken. To hell with the master and his orders... he still knew that sending him after those two men was a crazy idea, after all, the CSI guy had a gun and all Jonah was armed with was a stupid knife. No match to the bullets. So waiting a minute until the master's figure vanished from the stairs, Jonah turned from the fire and slowly followed him up. Maybe if he will do, the Master won't even know he disobeyed him. Or maybe he will just be too occupied with his 'victim' that he won't see Jonah slipping away through the closest window. At least, that was the plan when Jonah entered the hall on the second floor.
Of course, plans never came out as they were supposed to and Jonah found himself in the footsteps of his master, following the same cough, caught on the same pawn. He should've tried to open some door and slip into a room, then out of the window, but some inner voice warned him that making any noise right now would mean a bullet. The master wasn't counting on Jonah following him, so with all probability he would think Jonah was just one of his targets. Not wanting to risk it, Jonah followed, keeping several yards behind the older man. That was why no one saw him when the flashlight was turned on and it's beam blinded the master. Jonah stood frozen in place, momentarily stunned, and equally surprised. Then there were shots fired and Jonah had to duck, crouching and pushing against the wall, as if trying to vanish in it. When the light sailed through the air and landed on the floor, shining at the opposite wall but not showing anything, Jonah heard the scuffle of the fight. Pained grunts and hollow thuds when someone hit the wall.
There was no shooting though, no gun waving blindly around and threatening to fire a hole into his heart. The fear that was binding him until now fell off and Jonah stood, slowly approaching the scuffle ahead of him, the knife held in ready. He felt someone's blood in the air, mixed with the thick smell of the smoke and his heart beat faster. He knew the master was winning, knew it by the painful grunts that belonged to the other man. And then it suddenly occurred to him that he could maybe pass the struggling duo and finish off the third man that was hiding in the room behind them. Maybe then the master would finally accept him as a partner in crime more than just some 'slave' who would obey any command. For that moment, Jonah thought that maybe he could even get to see the next day from some fancy hotel room, rather then from the inside of a jail, or the morgue. But plans never come out as they were planned.
Jonah managed to take only few steps when he heard the change in the fight, when the sound of falling fists changed into a more sinister sound of a grunted gasp and a body being showed. He took a step ahead and stumbled with a startled cry when a body landed on him, sending them both to the ground. The world tilted and went totally dark for a second when Jonah landed, his head hitting the hard floor with a thud while the person that knocked him down stayed unmoving, laying on top of Jonah like a dead weight it was. It took several seconds for Jonah to recover enough to realize that something warm was staining his shirt and pants. The heavy smell let him know it was blood, but he wasn't sure if it was his or not. The feeling of pain didn't come though and Jonah moved, trying to get the body off of him, when he noticed the knife wasn't in his hand anymore. He felt for it, half panicking, remembering the master's words about losing it, then his hand bumped into something and Jonah went still. Slowly touching the thing, he knew it was his knife. What made him gasp was the fact it was securely embedded in someone's back, up to it's tilt.
Once he knew that the blood wasn't his own, Jonah pushed the body off of him with some disgust. It fell without a sound which was enough of a sign that it was truly dead. Now that he established that fact, Jonah became hurtfully aware of the gasps coming from ahead. He heard movement and saw the forgotten flashlight being picked up, then trained first at him, then at the corpse. He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to adjust, and by then the gasps turned into rasping breath with an occasional cough. Not really wanting to see but knowing who was laying there dead, Jonah turned and looked.
TBC
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