All right. Well. ... I'm back.
Sorry it's been so long, but apparently, graduating High School is a big deal. Like, *shrugs* who knew?
Anyway, this will probably be the only post from me in a while, because seriously, I've been busy!
So, I'll reiterate my challenge again; please! Give Frankie some love! #GiveFrankieaChance How hard can it be to give a fictional character some room in your heart, huh?
Also, even though you've probably all skipped this part and gone straight to the "good stuff", I want to thank my reviewers. Seriously, you guys are the only reason I'm still doing this! Am I the only author who depends on her reviewers to assure her that yes, her story is worth reading and yes, keep writing it?! You guys are my motivation. Thanks. :)
And so, without further ado, here's what you've all been waiting for! (unless of course you weren't, in which case you may leave now if you've actually deigned to traverse this far into my realm ... man do I need sleep)
"Ah-well, here we are!" Face said it with a cheerfulness that felt false even to him. Despite the outdated car that they had arrived in, he and Murdock had gotten to City Hall rather quickly.
Murdock had been unusually quiet the whole time, leaving Face to keep up conversation alone, since anything was better than that dead silence. Now, however, the pilot spoke up quite abruptly, "Hey Faceman?"
"Hmm?" Face focused on parking with the lights off just down the street, so they wouldn't be too obvious. Naturally, that's when Murdock sprang the question on him.
"Do you think Frankie's dead?"
It was so candid; yet felt like a dead-weight that Face hadn't been prepared to catch, and he immediately fumbled the loaded question, "Eh- Murdock-" his best reassuring smile was plastering itself onto his face as he attempted to come up with as ambiguous an answer as possible; not wanting to consider the possibility in the least. He never got the chance though, as Murdock cut him off,
"No one on our team has ever died before."
"Murdock." Face spoke more sternly now, realizing that an ambiguous answer wasn't going to cut it. He was going to have to muddle through with the most optimistic outlook he could muster, "He's probably not dead. You know Frankie; he's pretty persistent." It still wasn't an answer, and Murdock's eyes went a little wider as he continued to speculate, building off of what Face had meant as a reassurance.
"Yeah, but he's also the youngest and least experienced." Suddenly the pilot surged forward, gripping Face by the collar as he spoke forcefully, "We're a team, we're supposed to look out for each other––especially Frankie! But we didn't. We forgot about him. We weren't as careful!"
Face had been struggling to get Murdock's white-knuckled grip off of him the entire time, and now he shoved as forcefully as he could, "It's not like we asked for him!"
Murdock flew back against the other side of the car as though he'd been burned, his eyes wild and disbelieving. Face panted slightly, and then his brain caught up with what he'd shouted. Instantly, he began to backpedal, "Murdock, I didn't mean-"
"Yes you did." The pilot cut him off with a hard tone and a frosty glare, "Yes you did. You meant that. You've been mad at Frankie since your car crashed and you know it." Murdock's voice rose suddenly and his eyes lit up with anger, "His betrayal just added the icing to your cake of HATE!"
Face had to think about that for a moment, and if his friend hadn't been so serious, he might have laughed, as it was, he found that he was holding his breath even as Murdock continued to shout, "YOU KNOW WHAT?!" Then he suddenly went silent and leaned forward, jerking the con-man in by his tie to hiss, "You know what?"
There was a silence that was long enough to be awkward, but short enough to not be long enough and Face blinked in anticipation, not sure whether or not he ought to fill it. Then it ended,
"Frankie didn't ask for us either. He was blackmailed by Stockwell, and you know how Stockwell is. I was mad at him for that too, but then he made up for it." Murdock leaned back, only holding Face's tie loosely now as his eyes took on a glassy look, "I didn't want his help, but he helped me anyway. He became a Nighthawk Commando and helped me get you guys out. He hired your lawyer. He did everything he could, ... and now he could be dead, 'cause we didn't."
Face didn't wait for the silence this time, "All right!" He said it loudly, jolting Murdock out of his reverie, his guilt and annoyance boiling over, "I get it! I'm sorry I didn't jump up to go shopping with him! I'm sorry I didn't babysit him better!"
There was the silence again. Murdock's eyes pinned Face, as though he were thinking, and then he spoke softly, "You don't mean that."
"Yes I do!" Face still couldn't understand Murdock sometimes, "You just said I did!"
"That's not what I said." Murdock had gone wide-eyed and serious. The look he had when he really needed you to listen.
Face sighed.
"Okay Murdock. What did you say?"
"It's not what I said––it's what you meant." The Pilot leaned in, either not noticing Face's eye roll, or just choosing to ignore it, "I-I think we were all a little angry when Stockwell blackmailed Frankie. It's not that we didn't like 'im, but we didn't want to- to ruin his life. That's why we fought just now––you an' me––not 'cause we hate Frankie, but because we- we like 'im."
"Murdock, I-" Face could see the shining in Murdock's eyes. The open look that meant he was scared.
"Face. Frankie annoys all of us sometimes––even me. But ... He's like the little brother we never had. The A-Team doesn't ever leave a member behind, ... and we did. What- ... what if-" Murdock paused, swallowing, "What if we're too late? Frankie didn't leave me at the beginning––what if we left him at the end?"
"Murdock, we didn't leave him." Face had calmed down enough to see that the pilot was right. "We're going to find him right now."
"But what if we're to late?"
Oh. Here was a question Face couldn't dodge. Logically, they really might be too late. He smiled nonetheless, determined to live up to his name, keep up his good face, "We won't be."
Face was good at telling lies, but that was the hardest one yet, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. It worked though, because Murdock nodded after a long, searching stare.
"Let's go find Shaaron." He got out, leaving a confused Face who was still trying to swallow the old mood. The con-man quickly understood though, rolling his eyes as he got out.
"We don't even know if she knows anything." Face sighed as he met up with Murdock at the double glass doors.
"That's why we're gonna find out." Murdock spoke optimistically––his previous reservations merely a shadow as his faced lit with a hopeful smile, "I mean, she probably saw somethin'."
"Probably." Face agreed absentmindedly, looking carefully through the doors and then back at Murdock, "But we're going to have to short out the power before we can find out where she is."
"Alarm system?" Murdock leaned in, taking his own long, careful look before pulling back, "It looks battery powered, Faceman, I don't think shorting out the power will work."
"Great." Face folded his arms, "Can nothing be easy?!"
"Why not just trip the alarm? We can be outta here before anyone finds us." Murdock suggested.
"I'll be holding you to that, Murdock." Face said after mulling it over for a long moment, and then stopped the pilot when he went to go in with him, "Ah-" Face held out the keys, "Have the car ready."
"Ready Freddie!" Came the reply as Murdock bounced back down the front steps.
As soon as Face opened the door, however, a loud wailing sound heralded his entrance. He blanched,"Ahh, great." Apparently this security system didn't just notify the police, but the neighbors too. Face broke into a run, cursing Murdock under his breath as he entered the main office and began going through the files, "What'dya wanna bet Hannibal and BA are still sitting there!" He slammed the first drawer closed even as he tore open the second one.
"Hands up, pal." A hard voice spoke from behind him, a dangerous quality in it that Face recognized well enough to obediently raise his hands, "Don't even think about moving!"
"Ahh-" Face turned around slowly with a painful smile, "This isn't what it looks like."
"There's nothin' else it could be, so you're lyin'." A security guard that must have weighed at least as much as BA stood before him with a pistol.
"Eh- allow me to explain ..." Face forced himself to look as innocent as possible, thinking of some creative names for Hannibal till his smile widened into a genuine one.
"BA," Hannibal pointed at the screen, "replay that last part."
"Hannibal––" BA obediently rewound, but brought his thick brows together as he watched his Colonel's unreadable face, "We ain't seen nothin'. What'chyou lookin' fo'?"
"I'm watching the faces of those slimeballs," Hannibal's eyes narrowed as he answered, "We know which one came in here, and we know which one the leader is––but I wanna know why they're doin' it."
"'S 'cuz their foo's." BA growled. Hannibal was right. The leader was obvious, since all of the others kept looking at him, and the guy who had messed with Shaaron's file––they'd had to go back two or three days to get that, but had found it. Really, there was little more they could get from it, but Hannibal hadn't stopped.
"Naw. No I think––I think they're volunteers."
"Volunteers?!" BA was disbelieving, and paused the feed, forcing Hannibal to look at him.
"Yeah." Hannibal's cigar was a stub compared with an hour earlier, and he puffed on it thoughtfully, "You can tell when they're doin' it just for money, or because they have to––they're sloppier; make more mistakes. Now, these guys aren't experts, but they're doing it real careful, which makes 'em volunteers."
"What's that mean?" BA had an idea what it might mean, but hoped he was wrong.
"Well––" Hannibal sighed, taking his cigar out as he fixed BA with one of his most serious faces, "It means that whether or not Frankie knew it, he's got enemies. Probably our enemies. Ones that are out to get us."
"An' now they got him." BA clenched his fists. Hannibal just nodded, putting his cigar back in his mouth and puffing slowly. "Hannibal." BA's eyes widened to a point that they didn't often reach, opening his face up to the fear that now clouded it.
"Hmm?" Hannibal paid little attention until BA asked his question.
"What if Frankie's dead?"
"Now, BA-" Hannibal jumped in quickly.
Too quickly.
There was a soothing quality to his voice that spoke of lies and BA wasn't having it, "What if they killed 'im, Hannibal?"
There was a long, drawn out silence, and then the Colonel sighed, taking out his cigar stub once again as he looked right at BA, "Well, what do you think?"
BA didn't have to think, "Then we make 'em pay!"
Hannibal just nodded thoughtfully once more as he absently turned his cigar, leaving BA to contemplate the silence alone. The silence didn't last much longer though, as it was shattered quite suddenly when Murdock slammed the door open and pranced in with a damp folder and a smug look. "We got the info!" He seemed excited, contrasting greatly with Face, who trudged in right behind him, furious.
And soaking wet.
"Don't ask!"
"Why you all wet, man?!" BA exclaimed, ignoring the command.
"'Cause I tripped the fire alarm and helped us escape from City Hall." Murdock handed the folder to Hannibal, who grinned,
"Nice."
"I was the one driving too." The pilot added, tossing a glare in BA's direction, the earlier slight against his ability to drive unforgotten.
"Shut up, foo'!" BA pronounced, immediately annoyed, "What's it say, Hannibal?"
"She lives pretty close." Face huffed, answering for the Colonel, "We'll meet you there." He then grabbed Murdock, heading resignedly out the door.
"Okay, BA." Hannibal finally looked up, "Shut that thing off for good."
BA did so gladly, ruining the system so that they couldn't be traced, "Where's she live?"
"Just about four blocks from here." Hannibal answered as he closed the folder, and watched with a slight upturn to his lips as BA finished methodically destroying the rest of the systems. BA finally turned, his hands clenching,
"All righ'. Le's go make 'em pay."
Frankie was tired. Sleep, however, wasn't an option. Oozy and Nasally came in periodically to ask him where the team was, and they did it often enough that the had never really had the chance to drift off. Since he was sure he probably had a concussion, he had to wonder if it was a good thing.
On the plus side, they'd only taken the knife to him one more time since last time. So now he had a cut ear, hand and knee. And he'd really liked those pants ...
The blood made his clothes stick to him much like the blindfold had, and he dreaded when they'd have to be removed. The blood from his left knee had also soaked into his sock and shoe. He hadn't had the time to wash it off, even though they'd let him use the bathroom several times (thankfully). They only ever let him take so long.
The first time they'd finally let him into the bathroom, he'd only been able to stare at his reflection. Boy, did he look awful. He'd used the water to wash off some of his neck, but really, it only smeared it around a little, and he'd ended up looking worse than before. He had a huge gash in his forehead, and the blood had dried both above and underneath his eye, whereas the area that had been his blindfold was clean. He would have washed it off, but it was still ridiculously tender, and he really didn't want to wake the monster headache back up.
His hair had fallen almost completely free of the tie and the gel that had been holding it back, so he'd taken the rest of it out, letting it fall strange and free. That had been his second time in the bathroom. His first time had consisted of not only using it for emptying his bladder, but also his stomach, leaving him pale and shaking.
His wrists, by this time, were red and tender, swiftly on the way to becoming raw. He'd had to tear a piece of his sleeve off and wrap it around his hand haphazardly, doing the same with his pants and his knee, because––quite frankly––he was losing a lot of blood. His ear, on the other hand, he didn't touch, unable to get a good look at it in the dirty mirror and afraid he would make it start throbbing hard again.
In a way, the bathroom became his safe haven. He could have privacy, along with time to think. The best part about it, however, was the window. All the way up on the eight foot wall, there was a dirty, stained window. Mold was growing on it, and spiderwebs covered it, but truly, it was the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen. It let in natural light that let him know he wasn't alone, there was a full moon shining down on him from out there, and it gave him hope.
It also gave him an idea.
Frankie knew that he couldn't spend forever waiting for his team. At this rate, he'd crack first, and he knew it. So did Oozy and Nasally. That was why he had to act fast. He tried not to ask for too many bathroom breaks, knowing that they'd get suspicious, but in his head, he began planning when he'd do it. He knew he'd have to do it when they least expected him to. He'd also need more time to do it, but the only time they gave him more time was when he needed it. The only time he needed it was when he'd been freshly hurt ...
Wonderful.
Wow. So. That turned out way more intense and important than I had planned ... in a good way! It's not like I'm making this up as I go or- or anything! *looks guiltily to the ground* Okay fine. So I'm improvising. So what?!
Remember, improv comes from the word improve. :)
Thanks for reading and stuff, I'll get another one up soon, and hopefully we'll finally get some action!
