Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
As a child Chance had experienced numerous moments of utter helplessness. Literally overpowered and outmuscled by the adults of the violent world he had been born into, he found himself on the receiving end of other people's wrath and cruelty multiple times.
As a teenager, after an incident that left scars he could still detect on his body whenever he took a shower, he swore to himself never to become that defenseless and at somebody's mercy ever again. He started lashing out at his tormentors and bucked every restraint, both literally and figuratively, that people attempted to put on him.
That was pretty much the state the Old Man found him in. Joubert treated him like a rough diamond – he taught him his trade, let him in on all the secrets that distinguish a thug with a gun from a real pro… and he, step by step, changed his attitude towards getting caught and apprehended.
While Junior in the very beginning employed a rather Bonnie-and-Clyde-like attitude that preferred death to captivity, the Old Man taught him to accept restrictive conditions for the time being and proactively use the period of forced immobility for planning ahead and making the most of the situation.
"Sometimes getting caught is the best thing that can happen to you", he told him. "Unless your attackers are explicitly out to kill you, it can be the strategically best thing to allow capture. Captives are usually brought to the center of activity – what better place to start a retaliation campaign from?" Chance had pretty much followed that advice when Guerrero had been framed for murder in Alabama.
"Not to mention the fact that your target more often than not can be found there, too." They had gotten to Ilsa's friend, Susan Connors, that way when she had been caught in the clutches of Miguel Cervantes.
"You can also divert your attackers' attention by giving yourself up – for example from a partner who can sneak away unseen and get help." He had used that strategy during the fiasco at Henry Claypool's house, to protect Ilsa.
Something inside of Chance still protested every time he dropped his weapon, turned around and let himself be tied up, be it by law enforcement, rebel troops or triple frontier thugs. But he had learned to ignore that little voice, had learned controlling the instincts that told him to fight to the last breath and accept momentary helplessness, knowing that he would somehow find a way out of this mess.
The day his son became hostage in the course of a bank robbery gone wrong, however, the little voice was screaming at him at the top of its lungs. The feeling of utter helplessness seemed to strangle him like noose around his neck.
And there was no escape.
No amount of violence, firepower, aggression or shrewdness could change the fact that he was trapped in an airplane two hours away from San Francisco while his only child was in the hands of extremely oddly behaving, heavily armed hostage takers.
He was more caught than he had ever been in his entire life.
"This is not the time for a guilt trip, bro." Guerrero sat down in front of him after Chance had finally stopped pacing.
"Ash's situation has nothing to do with what you're doing right now or ever did in your past. Wrong place, wrong time, and that's it. A damn coincidence."
Chance looked at his friend and knew he was getting lectured for a reason. Guerrero wasn't the type for unwelcome advice.
"Spit it out already", Chance told him.
"One of the snitches talked. Name came up. B. Brax."
For a moment it seemed to Chance as if the plane was stopping in midair. Then it seemed to suddenly drop several hundred feet, tailspinning towards the ground.
B. Brax. The multiple murderer and notorious criminal they had freed from prison in the course of the ordeal with Emma… in an attempt to save her severely damaged career she had tried to con them… they had seen through her devious scheme, but G. Brax, B.'s big brother, had outmaneuvered them and they had had to let B. run. Afterwards they had shipped Emma off to Canada, where she was hopefully raising her kid in peace…
Thinking about Emma and her child, a baby girl, as Guerrero had informed them a while ago, safe and sound out of harm's way, while his son… Chance's stomach churned with sudden anger and frustration.
"How can you look me in the face and seriously tell me this is not my fault?", he hissed at Guerrero.
"Cut the crap, dude", Guerrero shot back, face a mask of stone. "We don't know yet what Brax is up to, but it's definitely not the money. Don't think it's a good idea to…"
An incoming call via satellite telephone interrupted him. "Junior, we've got to act. B. Brax is behind this." Joubert's gravelly voice, more serious than he had heard him in a long time.
"And for once we're agreeing on something", Guerrero nodded.
"Indeed we do." Ilsa came walking from behind and sat down in the chair next to Chance. "Mr. Joubert, I presume?"
She and the Old Man hardly ever talked. He gave her the creeps.
"Any suggestions, Mrs. Pucci?"
Winston and Ames silently joined the others.
"In my opinion having the bank stormed by an elite military unit specializing in this kind of situations is our only option. The more time we give Brax the more likely he's going to use it to our disadvantage", Ilsa told Joubert.
A hint of a smile flashed over Guerrero's face.
They're flying in right now, but so far their involvement is not cleared by the authorities in San Francisco", Ilsa continued. "I've managed to circumvent the Mayor in the chain of command and am in direct contact with the governor now. Unfortunately the promise of a very generous donation didn't do much to move him in the right direction… but maybe with a little extra pressure…?"
The smile on Guerrero's face grew.
"So you want dirt on him", Joubert concluded. "Not bad, Mrs. Pucci, not bad at all… Call the governor again in fifteen minutes."
Winston and Ames were both staring at Ilsa, open mouthed.
Ilsa gave them a quizzical look.
"We've turned you into a monster", Ames sputtered.
"Take that as a compliment." Chance reached out and patted Ilsa's upper arm. The plan was good… and with Joubert on board, too… Guerrero was right, this was not the time to brood… adrenaline surged through his body.
"Erm… Joubert?" Winston took a deep breath. He hardly ever addressed the Old Man directly. Too many unresolved issues between them.
"I might know a thing or two about the governor that could change his mind in less than fifteen minutes."
Chance looked from one member of his crew to the other, then glanced at the phone… and allowed himself a hopeful thought.
Together they had pulled off the most incredible shit.
They'd get Ash out.