Thank you for all the lovely reviews I've been getting. Not so much for some PMs I've had throughout the time I've been publishing this story. I've always been very happy to receive critiques, but please, can people learn the difference between constructive and destructive criticism. If you spot a plot hole or grammatical error, or if you want me to clarify something...brilliant - PM me! What I don't want is people contacting me to say you don't like a physical trait I've given a character, that you felt I was showing favouritism to one brother over another, that something has happened in the story that has offended you, that my writing style isn't American enough (if I've used an English word in error, tell me, but I can't do anything about my writing style), or that a chapter "didn't quite work for me".

Sorry to have to write this, but there was a delay in me posting and I went off the grid because I had to walk away and refuel. The last PM'd critique really knocked my confidence at a point in the story when I was so excited to post it up for you all. I took all the wind out of my sails and spoiled it. It stung. I'm usually laid back and thick skinned, but everyone has a limit (Flashpoint). I couldn't laugh it off any more. Sorry to moan, I hate moaning. Moaning makes me feel guilty.

That said, here's chapter 34. I hope you enjoy it. If you feel you'd like to review, please do. No pressure though. :-)


CHAPTER 34

Frank's awareness returned. He opened his eyes and viewed the Red-Headed Man's broad back as his carried the older Hardy Brother, an arm holding Frank easily in place across the back of the thighs. Frank gently swayed as the Red-Headed Man paced steadily along, the guy's physical strength more potent than Frank had appreciated. He felt the guy's muscles rhythmically ripple as he paced the ground; he'd give Joe a run for his money in the gym department.

Frank clenched his jaw which felt stiff, and realised a gag had been jammed in and tied into place. 'Dammit!' there would be no screams this time, and no way to verbalise, a colossal problem.

The side of Frank's face itched. Only when he watched his own blood drip away did he work out the cause of the irritation. The bullet wound still bled, just not as badly as when it had first happened, good news in a sea of bad. It seemed by grinding his fist in there, the Red-Headed Man had done Frank the favor of slowing the bleed.

The Red-Headed man took Frank to the front of a tree and unfurled him like a sack of coal. Frank hit the ground with a resounding thud and thrashed with eyes closed for a while recovering, his shoulder an agonising burn. When he eventually looked, the psychopath's eyes were on him, but as soon as Frank settled, the man lost interest and wordlessly strode off into the trees in the same direction they'd emerged.

The woman wasn't with them. Frank remembered how the man's head had tipped almost imperceptibly when she'd presented the memory stick containing the complete Pandora program, the only missing component being the code. It was obvious to Frank it had come as news to the Red-Headed Man. Something wasn't sitting right now, even more wrong than his current predicament, the atmosphere thick with intent.

He looked first one way and then the other, peered into the trees. He hoped he would see movement back there, torchlight or something, signs of people searching, but nothing. He laid his head down, trying hard not to let feelings of defeat win out.

He must have slipped into a semi-conscience daze as he suddenly woke to the sound of the Red-Headed Man returning. The man's unmistakable, heavy footfalls coming through the trees toward him. As the man emerged, Frank saw the woman accompanied him, but not in the true definition of the word, he was dragging her.

The woman's arms were behind her back, and from the ungainly way she tripped along, they were tied. The pitch of her voice rose higher as she debated with the psychopath. A one-sided conversation as the man used words only when absolutely necessarily, choosing action first.

"What do you mean, 'Why didn't I tell you'?" she asked. "Your job wasn't to worry about Pandora and her development; you agreed to trust that to me while you grabbed Nancy Drew and Frank Hardy for the code. After, you were going to leave with Hardy to do what you wanted with him. You need to remember and start to listen to me again!"

The Red-Headed Man turned her around and clumsily untied her wrists. The material came away and fluttered down. She started to thank him for freeing her, but he hadn't let go of her arm, had untied her with one hand. He pulled her around in front of him.

"You're hurting me!" she protested and tried to jerk away. "I don't know why you're so hot. You'll get your share of the pot the same as the rest of us!"

Her struggles didn't sway him; he wasn't about to relinquish his tight hold. He bought his other hand into play and began to roam through her pockets.

"I know you're angry because you were part of the original team, but things moved on…stop it!" She tried to push his hands away but he continued his search until his hand found the memory stick. He drew it out and turned it over in his fingers, inspecting it. She tried to snatch it back, but he pulled it out of range. He juggled it into his palm, folded his fingers and formed a fist.

Frank flinched intuitively, able to predict the Red-Headed Man's next move, even if the woman wasn't blessed with the same level of instinct. The man threw his arm and drove his fist forward, punched her in the head and snapped her neck back. He let her slump to the ground and swivelled thoughtfully to Frank. "Ever watched someone die?"

How do you respond to such a question? Even without the gag Frank would have been speechless.

Frank's situation felt bleak, his chances of survival less and less likely. He guessed he'd played his hand too soon, should've delayed longer, not tantalised the Red-Headman Man so quickly into punishing him. 'I'm dying out here tonight. This is happening. I'm going to be killed.' It was a strange feeling to know he'd already reached that stage in his young life and he could do nothing, nothing about it. It felt like falling and spinning out of control, seeing the ground coming up at a million miles an hour to body slam him out of existence. He'd taken one daring chance too many and fate had finally caught up and sunk its talons in.

The man still watched Frank in consideration, but then dipped and took Frank by the collar to lift and drag him until his back rested against a tree trunk.

All the jolting sent shockwaves of pain across Frank's shoulders and it took a while to recover with his head hung forward. Eventually he lifted his face to find the man still gazing. He reached behind Frank's head, untied the gag, removed and threw it to one side.

"Ever watched someone die?" he repeated. "Your darkness…has it ever watched someone die?"

Frank swallowed as scorching bile came up his throat, so unpleasant a sensation it took a while before Frank felt he could answer without hurling.

The Red-Headed Man patiently waited, enjoying the spectacle of Frank's mental struggle.

Frank eventually cleared his throat. "No Pal, can't say I have."

"See the light go from their eyes, seeing them give up, witnessing their spirit go. Absorbing. Your darkness will celebrate it." He went to the woman, lifted her and peered into her face. "I've never shown it to someone else." He carried her over to Frank and dropped her down next to him.

"Don't do this," Frank said to the man. God knew Frank didn't owe this woman loyalty or respect, the person who'd kidnapped, abused and terrorized his soul-mate, but he couldn't lie there in the shivering cold and allow murder to happen without at least trying something to save the woman. "I don't want to watch anyone die tonight…I don't want to…not tonight, not any—" his voice reduced to a whisper as his brain began to sink. His head grew heavy, dropped forward.

"Hey! HEY!" Fingers gripped his jaw, lifted his face up. "Frank, stay with me the fun's just starting!"

Frank's felt his cheek slapped repeatedly, each hit building in intensity until his adrenaline levels picked up and Frank focused on the Red-Headed Man's face again. The man didn't let go, his face really close.

"You ready to watch?"

"No."

"Not you, your darkness."

"Mine doesn't work like yours. I'm stronger than it is. Let her go. It's not as if she can howl to the cops. You've got Pandora, you don't need her."

"I agree," he searched Frank's eyes, looking for something behind them. "Call back your darkness."

"I won't do that."

"It'll make it stronger."

"I don't want it stronger!"

The man let go of his Frank's chin, and rocked back on his heels. For a moment, Frank thought he was going to get hit and recoiled, struck his head against the tree trunk. Instead, the man rose to his feet and returned to where he'd assaulted the woman. "You will." He paced around and dropped to scoop something out of the grass - the long piece of material that had bound the woman. He rolled one end around his fingers.

The woman stirred and muttered, coming out of her unconscious state. She moaned and pressed her hand to her face, rolled over and came eye-to-eye with Frank.

"Run," Frank whispered, "Get up and get out of here!" She frowned at him in confusion. "Listen to me, Lady. You're gonna die if you don't go!"

A level of comprehension reached, and her head rocketed around to look at the Red-Headed Man. She processed his intention and got up with a scramble, but wobbled and dropped onto her forearms. The man turned at the sound, but she got up and weaved away into the darkness, the sound of her crashing through the foliage meeting their ears.

The man set his jaw angrily. He ran at Frank, booted him, hauled him up by the scruff of the neck and threw him several feet. Then went off in pursuit of his prey.

He left Frank gasping. The man's boot had connected solidly with his unprotected ribcage, the unyielding tree trunk having offered no cushioning wherewithal. Frank pulled his legs up and tried to draw down oxygen into his lungs. He remembered his dad's advice not to panic, knew it wouldn't help. The pain finally reduced, air filled his chest, the fog cleared.

He rolled onto his back and listened to the sounds of footfalls. The eerie and empty nature of the night made even the smallest sound echo about the clearing. He found it impossible to pinpoint where the noises were coming from, and made it seem more than two pairs of legs were running. Seconds passed and it appeared the woman had made good her escape as only the Red-Headed Man could now be heard, muttering angry and empty threats. But then came a brief screech, like a wild animal caught in a snare.

Further thrashing, and Frank watched as the bushes swayed. The man's tall figure came through backwards followed by her. The twine encircling her throat and he pulled evenly on each end.

"Leave her alone!"

She pounded the man in the chest, kicked his shins, made distressed choking noises - tried everything to get him off, to save herself. She simply wasn't strong enough.

The Red-Headed Man levered her to Frank and went down on one knee so she was eased into Frank's eye-line.

"For God's sake!"

"Let your darkness watch," the Red-Headed Man ordered and moved his face close to hers, her movements trapped, totally dominated. The man watched vicariously through the vivid viewpoint of her petrified eyes.

"Stop!"

"If you don't want to watch, bring your darkness back!"

"NO!" Frank turned his head away repulsed, and fixed his gaze into the trees refusing to participate or cooperate. He didn't want to 'watch'. The terrible noises the woman made started to recede until eventually they stopped entirely. Frank saw one of her arms in his peripheral vision coming to rest on his torso. "Enthralling!" the man said, as the woman's limb lifted away.

Frank's attention was blessedly pulled away suddenly. He thought he saw something shift, a shadow or something and squinted into the trees, but…nothing. Instead, he disappointedly rolled his head back to watch the man carry the woman a few feet, and discard her on the grass.

The man swivelled to Frank and said, "Your turn." He walked over, and stood astride Frank's torso, one leg either side.

"Not your greatest plan," Frank quickly pointed out. "The memory stick's powerless without the code."

"Not as powerless as you."

"But you won't get the code from my dad if you kill me."

"I'll take it at source."

'Shit!' Frank tried scrabbling away, but had no mobility, too tied down and physically weak to make much headway. "But—"

"Done talking." The Red-Headed Man took the half step forward Frank had managed to put between them, and dropped his weight heavily onto the older Hardy Brother, pinned him hard to the ground. The man reached and spread his palm over Frank's face, splayed his fingers over the entire surface, squid like, and bore down.

Frank experienced a pushing, cloying and claustrophobic pressure which not only proved difficult to breathe through, but trapped any meaningful movement. The nature of it filled Frank with horror - being held down in such a way as mentally paralysing as physically debilitating. The man's hips slid gradually up Frank's torso and the man's weight bore down even more against Frank's face as he apparently leaned out over Frank's upper body. But suddenly the man sat back again and the hand went away.

Frank blinked up at the smiling man who displayed to him the cord he'd used as a gag. Frank went to speak, but the crushing claws returned to Frank's face to stifle him. "Done talking," the Red-Headed Man repeated in an almost whisper. The palm lifted again and the psychopath pulled the twine taut between his fingers and aimed it toward Frank's vulnerable throat, pressed the twine against Frank's Adam's apple.

"Don't!" Frank tensed. His brain erupted and threw all sorts of random ideas out there, trying to think of a worthwhile 'out'. "DON'T…If you—"

The man shushed him gently like a child. "Time to die."

Frank felt the cloth wrap around the back. Then a pause and Frank's breaths became stressed, before…the cord jerked, hard and sudden. Frank thrashed to try and dislodge the man and his hands, overcome by sheer panic, but nothing worked, he was too secured, too injured.

The man laughed at Frank's pathetic efforts, tightened cloth more.

Frank heard strange noises and realised they were coming from deep within his own throat, but not from his voice box, from somewhere unknown. His skull felt like a pressure keg building to explode.

Frank's head lifted off the ground as his eyes were pulled in closer to the Red-Headed Man's own orbs so the man could gaze even deeper, to silently observe and enjoy. His grin widened. "Good boy!" he breathed and impossibly tightened the ligature again, the cloth creaked with forced pressure. He tipped a fascinated head.

'Those eyes…those eyes! He's The Beast!' All color bled from Frank's vision as he started to blessedly slip mentally away, wasn't feeling so much anymore. The only thing left now in Frank's view, a pinprick of dead, hopeless blackness. 'Dad?-Joe?-Mom?-Dad?-Joe?-Mom?-Dad?-Joe?-Mom?-Dad?-Joe?' His brain repeated over and over again as his eyelids slid.

Suddenly, there came a tug, the cord slid free, and whipped Frank in the cheek. His eyes shot open and he heaved in a massive breath, followed by a series of short but deep gasps and then had a coughing fit.

"Nothing so simple," hissed the Red-Headed Man, now holding him easily by the shirt front.

The first influx of oxygen felt to Frank as though he'd burst through water into fresh air after being under for too long. It hurt his chest as much as his throat.

The Red-Headed man dropped the cord and shoved Frank's head down into the soft ground again with his palm over his face. He didn't leave his clawed limb there for as long this time, just long enough to make some sort of point, then let go to allow Frank to hack and taste phlegmy blood.

The psychopath chuckled and got off to move to Frank's feet and lift his ankles to rest them on his knees. He got so far as to take hold of the knot of the rope binding Frank's legs when a loud rustling came from the bushes.

Frank switched his watery gaze to watch Joe charge through into the clearing with his Glock out. His had his left forearm under and supporting his gun hand, and gripped his heavy, metal flashlight. He moved swiftly on a fast and aggressive interception course. "Get away from him, you SICK mother!" Joe yelled. "MOVE!" He jammed the gun into the Red-Head man's forehead, making sure the flashlight blinded him. "I said MOVE!"

The Red-Headed Man's eyes looked through the light beam straight at Joe. He lifted his hands away from Frank's ankles, raised his palms…and smiled, delighted.

Frank hadn't missed that look. 'No—!' He wanted to shout a warning to his brother, but knew any interruption, any break in Joe's concentration could prove, quite literally, fatal. The Red-Headed Man would take any and all advantages offered.

"MOVE," Joe repeated and pushed his weapon forward so the Glock pushed the man's head back.

'Be so careful, Bro…so so careful.'

Frank felt the man standing up, but half out of the crouch, he kneed Frank's leg's up so they came down solidly and impacted the ground. It sent a vibrating rush of pain to his shoulder and he emitted an involuntary yelp. 'Don't look Joe, don't look at me!'

Joe glanced down.

The Red-Headed Man's hand shot up, grabbed onto the flashlight and kept going. Because Joe's arm rested on top of the torch, it also went on the upward trajectory, along with the weapon. Joe squeezed the trigger mechanically and the Glock discharged and scared several birds who flew up, twittering in panic. The recoil caused Joe's hand to separate from his left and the man caught the gun and Joe's fingers in his other palm in a vice-like grip. Joe had no choice but to let go of the flashlight in order to partially release himself.

The Red-Headed Man put a move on him - coiled himself up Joe's gun arm to the shoulder and used his hand and body weight to lever Joe until he arched back, unbalanced. He trapped Joe's weapon hand into his armpit, rendering the gun redundant. Joe's other arm swung out to stabilize himself, but he wasn't going to plummet as the Red-Headed Man moved to plant his leg, and Joe's back came down onto it. The man's face loomed in. "Hello again." He brought the flashlight back into play to slam it into Joe's head, the collision of skull and metal a sickening cacophony. The beam of the torch in the darkness made it seem like a lightsabre attack.

Joe swung his left arm haphazardly to defend himself, but the second hit came in so quickly his fist failed to do more than flail the air. The flashlight went out, the second hit having broken the bulb and glass lens. The Red-Headed Man's leg moved, Joe dropped. Once on the ground, several more blows ensured Joe incapacitation and removed his threat.

"ENOUGH!" Frank ordered. "You win, okay?"

The Red-Headed Man stretched upright. "No." He hauled Joe up by his jacket, dragged him a few feet and tossed him down. He checked out Joe's position and pulled him more into Frank's eye-line. "Joe's an 'act now, think later' kind of a man?" He returned to pace around searching. "Should've reined the impulse in." He pick something up and showed it to Frank - Joe's gun. "Too late now." He grinned and ran his tongue over his top teeth.

"No! NO! Don't, not that," Frank pleaded. "He had nothing to do with Pandora, it's all on me."

"I don't care."

"Please!"

"I...don't...care."

The man's body turning away as he looked at the weapon. He gave Frank another perfunctory and predatory sneer and put one leg either side of Joe to hunker. He opened Joe's mouth and slowly slid the gun in. "Say goodbye to your brother."

"Don't do it! DON'T…PLEASE!"

The man straightened his arm, smiled, and pulled back on the trigger.

"NO!"