Rated M for violence and adult themes. Enjoy, guys. Big welcome to all my new readers, chapter views went through the roof over the weekend. Would love you guys to read and review, love hearing your thoughts.
Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Thirty-Three
Plunder is holed-up within a small portable office set up at the front entrance of the construction site. He doesn't even bother fleeing with half of the workers — although their hasty escape is probably more to do with their immigration status rather than their involvement in Plunder's latest scheme.
They find him seated within an ornate mahogany and leather chair. It doesn't quite fit with the decor of the temporary office structure, with it's faded paint and pock-marked walls. Plunder's eyebrows are raised, as if expecting their arrival. Elbows on the desk, fingers pinched into a steeple as he watches them file in.
"Welcome," he says smoothly. "Can I help you?"
Linka crosses her arms, leaning against the wall as Kwame descends upon Plunder, staring him down.
"Yes, I suspect you can," Kwame replies tersely. "Know anything about any nuclear warheads going missing from South Carolina?"
"No, not at all," he replies. "Why would I?"
"We have it on good authority you do," Wheeler says, dropping into the seat on the other side. He props his feet on the edge of the desk, crossing his ankles as he leans back. Plunder throws him a disapproving glare.
He sniffs. "And how did you come to that conclusion?"
"Paper trail has your name written all over it," Kwame says.
"You'll find nothing here," Plunder says. "Just a simple housing estate in progress. We have all the correct paperwork and building permits. Planning permission submitted last year. Everything's above board."
"Casa da Plunder," Wheeler mutters, and Linka watches as Gi turns away, stifling a wide grin. "Future residents expecting any bodies buried in the foundations?"
"No," Plunder snaps. "But who knows, there's always room for one, Pyro."
"So you wont mind us —"
"Yes, I do. Fuck off."
"Charming," Gi says under her breath.
"Whatever. You have no legal jurisdiction here. Just a bunch of snot-nosed kids running under my feet as per usual —"
"Well, if you were conducting your businesses in an ethical manner, we wouldn't need to keep having these conversations," Kwame says. "Three missiles transferred from a secured site. We —"
"Oh, I'm sure you'll waste months tracking them down," he says. "Good luck with that, I'll —"
"Frames are lookin' good," Wheeler interrupts, gesturing outside. Plunder stares at him, confused by the rapid change in direction. "Look pretty solid, actually."
"Why the hell would I want your opinion?"
"I dunno." He flashes Plunder a wide grin, tapping his finger ever-so-gently against his ring. "You know timber's highly flammable?"
The mask of indifference slips. A flicker of intense hatred crosses Plunder's face, but just for a moment. The haughty disposition returns just as quickly, and he and Kwame are soon back to their verbal sparring.
Linka turns away from the conversation, focusing on Ma-Ti. He's standing off to the side and hasn't said a word. Just watching the proceedings, thumbing his ring around his finger.
She glances out the small window and spots Argos Bleak striding across her line of site, barking orders and flailing his hands. Another stocky figure appears behind him and Linka's breath catches as Andrei Kroi shoulder-barges Bleak out of the way. She ducks away from the window, hoping the Ukrainian is not heading her way.
"You've got nothing on me. Anything else?"
Kwame frowns. "While we've got you here, a shipping container of automatic weapons disappeared off the manifest of a cargo ship last month. Know any —"
"Nope."
"Then you wont mind us checking things out?" Kwame says, folding his arms. "Since you have nothing to hide and all?"
"Again — fuck off," he replies. He grins suddenly as his eyes fall on Linka. "But if you're happy to compromise… I'm sure Kroi would be happy to escort your little blonde friend into our storage facility to look around. He'll be very thorough. Give her a good —"
Linka pales. Before she can reply, the chair Wheeler is seated within lurches loudly. The springs squeak as Wheeler extends his leg, casually knocking over an expensive-looking lamp with his sneaker. It falls to the floor, glass shattering.
"Whoops," he says through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off Plunder. "Foot slipped."
"No matter." Plunder shrugs, winking at Linka and she tears her gaze away, flushing. "There's nothing here."
"Based upon past experience, we don't believe you," Gi says. "Those warheads are active. We've been asked to chase down their location as well as the launch codes. This could have massive implications, even for you. You're stupid if you don't think —"
"Spare me the lecture, brat," he sneers, leaning forward. "You don't think Blight has figured out a solution that will be mutually beneficial to us both? Blight's —"
"Blight's an idiot," Wheeler snaps. "You're just a pawn. She's using you."
"I have nothing to say to you god-damn planet punks," Plunder says dismissively, his voice a smooth drawl. "I answer to a higher god than your false blue idol."
Gi rolls her eyes. "Yeah. Money."
"So what?" he responds, tapping his fingers on the oak desk and reclining back in his chair. He regards the five Planeteers with a somewhat bored expression. He gestures towards them. "You, with your stupid fear-mongering and pathetic intentions. You're on the wrong side. There's a revolution coming. It's already started. You freaks will be begging —"
"God, can we gag him already?" Wheeler mutters. Linka watches as his foot slides ever-so-slowly towards an ivory statue and hovers beside it in a menacing fashion. Plunder eyes him nervously, sweat breaking out on his brow.
Plunder leans forward, snatching the idol and moving it out of Wheeler's reach. "The tide is turning, my friends. Change is coming. Best to wake up and smell the coffee."
"You mean the gunpowder? Or the blood left on the streets due to Blight's program?"
"Don't care. Not my problem."
"It's going to get worse," Gi warns. "SAIP is —"
"SAIP is merely a tool. Opens up a lot of doors. Grants opportunities. Just gotta have the balls to use it."
"See now you've given me a mental picture," Wheeler complains. He shifts in the chair, aiming his ring at the armrest and burning a small hole into the timber. Plunder's face is turning redder by the minute, a direct result of Wheeler's shameless vandalism.
"You have nothing to tie me to any of this." Plunder's eyes settle on Linka again. "No amount of digging from your little hacker will bring up my name in any SAIP-related transgressions. I'm squeaky-clean."
"We will stop it," Linka says softly. "Blight will not —"
"Silly little girl," he says softly, shaking his head. "She knows."
"What?"
"Blight knows you're working with them." He grins, leaning forward on his elbows and staring her down. "She's not a very happy mad scientist, if you catch my drift. Got a bone to pick with you, Blondie."
"I have not done anything," she begins, but her mouth is dry and goosebumps have broken out. "I —"
"Don't cross her," Plunder says. "She'll string you up by your toes and dance naked on your grave."
"Yeah, enough about your sex life, dude," Wheeler says, wrinkling his nose. "We really don't wanna —"
"Think you're funny, don't you, motor-mouth." Plunder's calm veneer is definitely slipping. "Won't be laughing when I'm laying back sipping manhattans on my own personal island while you little turds are —"
"Always had you pegged as a strawberry daiquiri kinda guy. Do they serve manhattans in prison?"
Plunder clenches his fists. "Cherries and all."
"There'll be a lot of overweight, balding inmates in minimum security lookin' to pop your cherry." Wheeler leans back, hands folded behind his neck and grinning widely. "You'll be in good company."
Linka can see veins practically standing out in Plunders forehead. "I'll never see the inside of a prison cell, you little —"
"Sure you will," Wheeler replies. "Look up the word ineptitude in the dictionary and your fat, ugly head will be front and centre. Only a matter of time, dickhead."
Plunder staggers to his feet, knocking his chair over. He strides across the room and bears down on Wheeler who's still seated. He barely flinches, returning Plunder's angry glare.
"I look forward to the day when I can —"
"Employ a personal stylist?" Wheeler replies coolly. Linka wraps her arms around herself, holding her breath and waiting for Plunder to explode. The fire Planeteer reaches out, flicking the lapel of Plunder's suit. "The 1970's called. They want their suit back."
Plunder narrows his eyes, jabbing Wheeler in the chest with his index finger. "One day, you're going to come to a sticky end, my friend."
"You have me quakin' in my boots, asshole."
Plunder steps back. He straightens, composing himself before turning and giving the Planeteers a dismissive wave. "We're done here."
He wrenches the door open and strides out, hurrying down the ramp. Gi and Kwame follow, continuing to pepper Plunder with questions and their voices soon fade, replaced by hammering and power tools being used in the distance.
Relief floods through her. Wheeler gives her a small smile. He's sitting quietly; hair tousled across his forehead, and his blue eyes are watching the distant figures out the window.
"Yeah," he chuckles. "Don't think he likes me much."
"You took it too far," Linka said softly, still pale from the tense altercation. "Wheeler, I thought he was going to —"
"What choice do we have, babe?" He shrugs, leaning back in the chair again and glancing at Ma-Ti. "Ma-Ti needs to poke around his head. It's always me who draws the short straw."
"Wheeler, you have a natural talent for pissing people off," Ma-Ti says with a wry smile. "We do not even require a straw. You always get me the best results."
"There has to be a better way," Linka pleads. "Gaining access to Plunder's thoughts should not this —"
"Plunder lacks empathy. He has no moral compass. I cannot gain access unless he is annoyed or enraged. Wheeler never fails to get a reaction." Ma-Ti smiles. "The lamp was a nice touch, though."
"You liked that?" Wheeler grins, chuckling. "I improvised. Was it worth it? Did you get anything?"
"He knows nothing about the warheads, but the guns and ammunition are a whole other story. They're in Italy. He sold them to a man from Naples. A 'Mr Giordano'. Definitely a mafia connection."
"My work here is done." Wheeler cracks his knuckles and winks at Linka. "Whaddya say we high-tail it outta here before Loopy Looten sets the dogs on us."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Ma-Ti mutters.
Linka's eyes flick towards the window again. The job-sites opposite are still bustling despite the late hour. Electric saws, cement mixers. Pallets of bricks are being craned in and one of the slabs has a roof-frame being erected.
Amongst the employees remaining, she glimpses Kroi's figure again. Wide shoulders and heavily muscled, he's an intimidating figure. The workers are giving him a wide berth, as if expecting him to lash out at a moments notice.
"Guy needs to lay of the 'roids."
Ma-Ti has already left, and Wheeler is now behind her. She leans back against him and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing her affectionately.
"What are 'roys'?" she asks, turning and peering up at him curiously.
"Oh God, babe," he says, laughing. "Steroids. Kroi's poppin' em like skittles by the look of it. Also explains the rest of his… bad habits."
"Oh."
He rubs her shoulders, turning and guiding her towards the door. "C'mon."
They head out the screen door and down the ramp hand in hand, heading towards Gi and Ma-Ti who are already waiting by the Geo Cruiser. Dusk is truly upon them — shades of orange and pink are casting a pretty glow over the landscape.
Wheeler ducks inside to start the pre-flight checks and Ma-Ti follows, leaving the girls perched on the wing. Linka leans forward, swinging her legs idly as Gi turns to face her.
"Chinese?"
"Nyet. I feel like Thai."
Gi shrugs. "I think it's Kwame's turn to choose anyway."
"He always chooses Indian." Linka wrinkles her nose. "Too spicy for me."
"Sandwich?"
She nods, her eyes following Argos Bleak over by a flatbed truck. Bleak stands with his arms folded against his chest, shouldering the brunt of Plunder's anger. She can't hear the specifics of what is going down, but Plunder is furious about something.
He's up in Bleak's face, finger jabbing and they're practically nose to nose. Bleak isn't backing down, but he isn't engaging either. Just staring back sullenly at his employer as the verbal lashing continues.
She raises her eyebrows as Plunder finally shoves the mercenary and stalks away towards Kroi.
"Trouble in paradise?" The altercation hasn't passed Gi's attention either. "That was weird."
"Da," she replies.
Kwame is walking back towards them with a pissed-off expression on his face. He hauls himself up and ushers the girls inside.
"I am growing weary of all this," he mutters, dropping into the co-pilot seat beside Wheeler.
Linka takes her seat, clicking her belt into place and crossing her legs. As the Geo-Cruiser powers up, she glances out the window again, watching the back of Bleak's retreating figure — shoulders hunched and disappearing into one of the big rigs parked off site.
The tunnel was stifling. Unnaturally hot. Linka wiped sweat from her brow as she stumbled onward, using the roughened walls to guide her way through the darkness. A faint light was visible in the distance as they walked, the ground sloping downward in a steep manner.
"They've dug this out themselves."
Wheeler's voice was barely a whisper. He was tense — had barely said a word since they had departed the basement. Something didn't feel right. Walking into the black gaping hole of death was certainly enough to cause Linka undue anxiety, but there were a lot of details that weren't adding up.
Their journey so far had been far too easy.
"It is like a mining tunnel," she whispered, raising the flame and studying the etches and grooves surrounding them. "Why would they —?"
"Buried somethin' down here?" he said. "I … oh fuck!"
"What?" she gasped, flattening herself against the wall and raising her ring wildly.
"Tripped," his voice uttered quietly. "Sorry."
"I nearly set off a tornado," she hissed, rolling her eyes. "Did you notice that the noise and shaking happened after I used my ring both times?"
"Yeah," he said. "Don't think it's a coincidence."
"Do you think he's here?"
"Yeah," he said. "That's what I'm afraid of."
"Do you think Bl —"
Wheeler stopped, gripping her hand tighter. "Can you hear that?"
"I do not hear anything?"
"Wait, I —" He spun around and she was tugged along with him with a soft huff. "Someone's —"
A sudden rush of air passed by them. A groan. Scuffling noises and the sound of a struggle as Wheeler's hand was ripped forcibly from hers.
"Wheeler!" she cried, whirling around. A hand shot out of nowhere and gripped her wrist painfully but she wrenched herself free.
"Wind!"
She heard the thud as someone's body impacted upon the walls and slumped heavily to the ground. Something clattered to the floor by her feet. She crouched down, reaching around blindly as that awful noise echoed through the passage again, followed by more tremors beneath her feet. She fell onto her bottom, scuttling backwards until her back was against the wall.
Looking up, the light they'd been heading towards was partially blocked. Two shapes dragging a third shape away, and she instinctively knew that they now had Wheeler.
She moaned, blinking back tears. Terrified. Knowing that a showdown had always been inevitable, but not prepared in the least for what she assumed was coming.
She sensed another presence close by, but the adrenaline had kicked in and this time she was ready. A shape bore down on her and she launched a high-kick to the unsuspecting attacker legs. She heard the groan of pain and she used her ring again to send them flying through the air.
Heart in her mouth, Linka scrambled to her feet and stumbled onwards, unsteady due to the low rumble. Still unable to see but knowing Wheeler was restrained somewhere ahead.
The tunnel walls gained greater definition as the light came into view. A small lantern lay fixed in front of her at the end of the tunnel and there were three shapes illuminated in front of it's steady glow. They turned and lumbered off to the right, disappearing.
She stopped; hair plastered to her face and rooted to the spot, petrified by by what awaited her, but she forced herself onward — her fear for Wheeler's welfare overtaking everything else. She reached the lantern and slowed again, peeking around the corner the bulky shapes had disappeared towards.
A crater-like lair was evident within, burrowed out of the earth and the size of a small house. The heat was oppressive, like standing in front of a furnace on full blast. She stuck close to the walls, stepping carefully over rock and debris and perching herself on the edge of the cavity.
A narrow man-made walkway wrapped itself around the depression and she clenched her fist, spotting Wheeler perched precariously on the edge. He was struggling against his captors, each of them holding an arm. They jostled about; Wheeler's sneakers scuffing the dirt and coming uncomfortably close to the drop.
"So hard to find good help these days, isn't it?" The voice came from her left and she gasped as John Lambert stepped forward, giving her a mercurial wave. "Want something done, gotta do it yourself."
He dropped down into a sitting position and pushed himself off the edge. Lambert slid down swiftly, coming to a stop at the base of the crater. He motioned towards Wheeler's captors and they nodded in response.
Linka screamed as Wheeler was shoved off the edge. He toppled forward, tumbling head-first down the steep walls.
"Wind!"
She gathered him up before he hit the bottom, able to slow his downward momentum. Lambert watched his body slide to a stop. The earth shook again and he threw his hands out to maintain balance. Linka didn't hesitate — taking advantage of his distraction.
Using her ring, she took out Wheeler's captors still standing on the edge and jumped off the cliff-face, landing in a cloud of dust and debris courtesy of the mini tornado she'd landed herself with.
She strode forward, ring outstretched and temper now boiling over but Lambert grinned. She halted, spotting the gun clutched in his hand that was now pressed against Wheeler's temple. She let out a shaky sigh, knowing how the situation had played out the last time a gun had been involved.
He shook his head slowly, still smiling. "Hello again."
Footsteps and voices above her. At least thirty people had filed in, taking position around the edge they'd just descended from. She swallowed the panic. The futility of her situation was apparent. The hopelessness.
If she was going down, she'd take as many of them with her as possible. She glanced around, searching for Captain Planet but there was no sign of his presence.
"You're a hard woman to track down," Lambert called, dropping to his knees and tightening his grip on Wheeler's neck. "Hot enough for ya?"
"Could be hotter," Linka called back, her voice sounding much stronger than she felt. "Is this your idea of thermal heating?"
Lambert shrugged. "No idea. Unexpected side effect."
"Of what?"
"Of the body we buried down here."
"Body?" Linka frowned, eyes scanning the area for evidence of a grave. She found nothing but dust and rocky outcrops dotting the crater.
"Yep. Body," he replied leisurely. "Mind you, this area started out a lot smaller. Rock has been melting away for the past couple of years, now. Not sure whether it's from him or the nuclear waste he was buried with."
"All right," she uttered nervously. Her eyes settled on Wheeler. He was bleeding from the forehead but staying quiet, wincing in pain.
Hand.
The voice startled her. It was clear as day.
"So we have a problem."
She swallowed again. "And what would that be?"
"I'm under strict instructions. Gotta bring you and your buddies to Nevada, but there's a little job I need you to do first…"
"Da," she said. "I know what you want."
Touch.
The voice again. She flinched, searching her surroundings but unable to identify the source.
"So how do you do it?" Lambert asked. "He was stuck here after you died. You're back now. You're the key. He needs wind. You'll obviously need to return him to the earth. Boss wants you all to then recombine your powers later on in Nevada."
"I do not know," she uttered softly. "I am as in the dark as you are."
The safety clicked off and Lambert shook his head, fingering the trigger. "Don't believe you."
"Your mad scientist killed me in this time and my element died with me. You are simply borrowing mine. We have never had our elements split in that way." She licked her lips nervously. "I am unsure…"
"Don't believe you," he repeated, tapping the muzzle of the gun against Wheeler's ear and finally addressing him. "And where the fuck have you been, Jake Wheeler? You disappeared off the face off the earth, apparently. Blight's very interested in what your movements have been over the past few years."
"Travellin' circus," Wheeler grunted, and Linka cried out as the barrel struck him across the forehead. He slumped forward and Linka let out a frightened moan.
She stepped forward but Lambert shook his head again. "Be smart. We've got your Earth buddy upstairs, already bagged and tagged for the journey to Vegas."
She closed her eyes, realising with dread they had Kwame. "I do not know how you expect me to—"
"Set the blue guy free. Return him to the earth… or wherever the fuck he's meant to go." He grinned. "We'll take care of the rest."
Find.
"Captain Planet would choose to return when he needed to. We had no input when it came to that," she pleaded, eyes still tracking the area for the disembodied voice. "Only then would our powers come back to us. I do not even —"
"Try."
She wiped her brow feeling the sweat pouring off her. "I don't… where was he buried?"
Lambert gestured towards the middle of the crater. Linka shook her head in confusion, seeing only a couple of raised mountains of bedrock. "I don't —"
"Losin' my patience, " he said threateningly. "Try."
Feel.
She shook her head slightly, dazed as she approached the center and raised her ring. Her feet scuffed through the crumbling earth and she halted near a rocky outcrop, jagged and protruding at an odd angle. She sighed heavily, clueless as to the process she was supposed to be undertaking.
In all honesty, she'd half expected her presence alone (and element) would have been enough to re-awaken him, if needed. If he was even here. But to her bitter disappointment, this was obviously not the case.
What Lambert was asking of her was unprecedented. If Cap could have returned, he already would have done so already. It occurred to her that maybe Captain Planet was gone. Past the point of saving, but she pushed the dire implications to the back of her mind.
She didn't know how to proceed, but Lambert wasn't in the mood to listen.
"Wind," she whispered, sending out a small gust. Willing him forward, focusing her power and her energy.
She didn't know what else to do.
The resulting dust settled but the tremors returned. The earth shook and Linka crashed to her knees, looking around wildly as a high-pitched keen rent the air. She sobbed, holding her hands over her ears as the ground cracked and fissured around her. A few onlookers above lost their footing and slipped and she watched their ungraceful descent, crashing to the crater floor and remaining still.
But the phenomenon soon subsided. Nothing had changed. No beams. No additional presences.
"What else can I do?" she cried, raising her eyes to Lambert's as more of Blight's museum dwellers began to join him. She remained where she was, hanging her head in defeat. She pushed her hair out of her face, pleading, trying to make him understand. "I don't know what else I can do!"
"Pity," he said softly. "Fine."
Her eyes swept over Wheeler as he was dragged to his feet by several pairs of hands. His eyes were wide open now, locked on something behind her. A hand was clamped over Wheeler's mouth as he was dragged away, screaming against Lambert's palm.
"Wheeler!" she cried.
He looked panicked, and Linka stumbled to her feet, sending another gust of wind towards them. They tumbled over like bowling pins and Wheeler's voice was suddenly clear as he bellowed a name at the top of his lungs — a name that caused her heart to twist and drop into the depths of her stomach.
She whirled around and hit what could only be described as a Ukranian brick wall. Crew cut, filthy and with a murderous glint in his eye, Andrei Kroi was several years older but infinitely more intimidating than she recalled in either her dreams, or her very first meeting with him at Blight's compound.
He'd lost some body-weight but his physique was still impressive, to say the least. Scar tissue dotted his face, and his neck and arms were covered in poorly-inked tattoos.
Kroi's hand gripped her wrist, wrenching it up over her head and causing her toes to momentarily leave the ground. The other hand grabbed her around the neck and she was flung to the ground in a cloud of dust. She could hear Wheeler screaming her name as she tried to claw Kroi's hand from her neck.
Linka shrieked, fighting back as her other arm was pinned above her head. She retaliated with the only limb still left at her disposal, launching her knee into his groin with devastating accuracy. Wriggling free, she kicked him in the ribs, noting with dismay that others were now approaching. She scuttled to her feet and ran, legs pumping.
Wheeler was no longer in her line of sight.
Contact.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" she cried out, eyes wide as she searched for the owner of the voice. "WHERE ARE YOU?"
Nothing was making sense. The voice was deep, but she had the sense that it was female in origin — which confused her even further.
Connect.
She dodged Kroi's lumbering form and streaked towards the center of the crater, sending a gust of wind towards two men approaching her with a large hessian bag. Her feet were suddenly kicked out from underneath her and she crashed to the ground, sobbing in pain.
Hands clawing the earth, she spotted the rocky outcrop and dragged herself towards it, desperate for something to latch onto. Something to anchor herself to.
Reach.
She choked, inhaling sediment into her lungs as Kroi's hands gripped her ankles. Another gust of wind gave her a few seconds reprieve as her fingertips reached for the jagged arrangement of rock. More tremors. Another unearthly scream echoing around her.
Now.
A coughing fit tore through her as she dragged herself forward, kicking and flailing in desperation but her attempts were thwarted. Kroi kept dragging her back.
She was drenched in perspiration. It was dripping down into her eyes and she blinked, unsure if the sweat was obscuring her vision — or that perhaps the smattering of rock she was holding onto for dear life showed a fist-sized globe insignia at the base.
That the jagged protrusions resembled limbs and perhaps the formation could be construed as someone lying in a foetal position. Turned to stone. Course and roughened. Abused and weakened, transformed into the pitiable state she saw before her.
Linka.
Finally she understood. A flare of hope pulsed through her. It was small, but it was tangible and she latched on to that hope with every fiber left of her being.
Now.
With a bellow of suppressed rage, she kicked away from Kroi and made a final lunge, slamming her hand over the globe insignia.
She screamed as the ground rumbled beneath her. Four bright lights escaped outwards and she was enveloped; first in crushing stone, followed by a thick, complete blackness.
A sensation of rapid decent.
And then nothing.