The sirens sounded as the police surrounded an old abandoned parking structure, "Mike Pierce, this is the police! Come out, with your hands in the air!"
"It's too easy," Patriks said as he exited Horatio's Hummer, "It's too easy. It's-"
BOOM!
Horatio was slammed forward by the explosion, hitting the Hummer painfully. He heard ringing in his ears. Only ringing. High and loud. Painful. Hurting. The ringing.
Make it stop.
And then his lungs began to burn like he had breathed in capsicum. His nostrils burned. He coughed and retched and it made his lungs burn more. Just one thought made it through his mind.
Get out.
He struggled up to his feet and staggered away, anywhere but here. Get out, get out, get out!
Trev
Hollywood special effects guys like to gunpowder with a high sulfur content. It creates a large flame and with a small bang. Explosives with a high phosphorus content, however, have a lot of concussive force with a bright flash, which is why they are used in flash-bang grenades. The little amount in flash-bangs mean only a loud bang, however. Pack enough, and you get something that can take apart a city block. Or, confuse about forty police officers.
The CS gas was just icing on the cake.
We raced the Audi, the two idiots in the trunk, smashing through the first wave of cop cars and slamming the brakes, and yelled "Now!"
"Frowning Freddy," Patriks rasped, "He pulled a fuckin Frowning Freddy on me."
"What is," Horatio asked, in between breaths from a breathalyzer, "A Frowning Freddy?"
"Friedrich Guast was an arms dealer in Algiers," Patriks said, "Me and Pierce were working together. We hunted him. He hunted us. We lured him to a little shack on the outskirts of the capitol. He came personally. Blew explosives from behind him, capture him in the confusion and got away. My own fucking plan."
"H!" Eric said, "Where's Calleigh?"
"Has... she been... admitted..."
"No," he shook his head, "I checked."
Pattriks said it all in one word, "Crap."
Calleigh had been slowly coming too. At first, it was the vague feeling of pain between her eyes, along with nausea. She was only slightly aware of her hands and feet being bound to a chair. After what seemed like a while, she realized it was duct tape. And she heard whistling. Cheerful whistling.
Suddenly, the black bag over her head was yanked away. She blinked under the glare of a harsh light. She could only see what was about a foot in front of her. The rest was a maze of half shadows. He continued to whistle softly.
She could hear a figure rummage around, and the snap of latex gloves. On a small table the figure laid our pliers, a curved needle, some sort of thread, a vial, and a syringe. She couldn't see the label on the vial.
The figure stepped partially into the light, visible from the midriff down. He plunged the syringe into the vial, filling it with a small amount, flicking the very big needle to rid it of air bubbles.
"Let's begin," Micheal Pierce said cheerfully.
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